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sincerelyneo · 6 months

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touch tank | l.hc

“he's so pretty when he goes down on me, gold-skinned eager baby”

💿now playing: touch tank by quinnie

❯ summary: Hyuck just can’t understand it. Why don’t you want to sit on his face?

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut

❯ words: 3.0k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, oral sex (fem receiving), face sitting, nipple play, male masturbation, brief hair pulling, mention of death as a joke, reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan always being pussy drunk agenda

“What’s the big deal?”

Your boyfriend asks the question nonchalantly - as though you’re being completely unreasonable - which in some capacity maybe you are. But it’s not your fault. He may call it unreasonable, you would call it being cautious.

“Well for starters I’m not particularly keen on the idea of me suffocating you,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Hyuck doesn’t listen - that’s not true - he’s hearing you but he thinks your excuses are ridiculous. You can tell by the way he’s still trying to kiss the skin on your neck down to the centre of your chest, and teasing the neckline of your tank lower until the edge is resting along the tops of your breasts.

“You won’t suffocate me,” he promises, shifting down to nuzzle further underneath your shirt until the tip of his nose nudges your nipple, which has already hardened from just a few of his kisses. You shiver, gasping when his lips catch on your skin.

“Considering how wet I make you, I’d be more likely to drown than suffocate baby,” he teases, his smirk visible just before his mouth opens around your nipple.

He sucks gently, ever so sweetly, just light enough to make you whine. When he talks again, it’s right against your skin.

“And now that I’m thinking about it, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go, and I think it would be kinda hot to have that on my headstone.”

You scoff out a laugh, “you’re unbelievable.”

This time you feel his smile on your nipple right before he bites down softly, making your head fall back.

You know what he’s doing - he’s good at this - making you feel so fucking amazing that your mind goes foggy. So, you squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head, and try to regain your focus on the situation at hand.

“What if I fall over?” You protest.

The rebuttal sounds weak - even to you. And when Hyuck slips his arm around your waist and pulls until you settle onto your side; you know it sounds weak to him too.

He starts to suck another gentle kiss over your nipple before trailing down over your belly, pushing your top up in contrast to the lower he goes. You squirm when his lips touch your bare stomach, clenching your thighs together tightly to try and dull the throbbing that’s started in your clit.

“You won’t,” he replies, slowly. “It’s just like riding my dick, and you know how to do that pretty damn well.”

Your voice betrays you, and you whimper under your breath before you can even think to hold it back. When you look down at Hyuck, he’s smiling lazily at you, like he knows he’s already won.

“But that’s different,” you insist, keeping your legs closed tight when his fingers try to sneak between them. “Your dick is supposed to get wet when we have sex. That’s the whole point.”

“Who says my tongue doesn’t want that either?” He murmurs, curving his spine down to kiss along the band of your panties. You groan - half in frustration and half in arousal - when he succeeds in stroking a fingertip against your clit; he circles it lightly, using as much room as you allow him.

“C’mon,” he tries again, voice pitched low and inviting. He drags his lips down to where his fingers are and starts kissing there instead, increasingly persistent, nuzzling up against your clit through your panties until you give in and open your legs for him. When you try to tilt your body to lie on your back again, Hyuck hooks his arm around your thigh and pulls you towards him instead, “Not like that, baby, over me, c’mon.”

“Hyuck,” you whine; you reach down to get a grip on his hair, hiding your face in your now bent elbow.

He doesn’t bother with removing the barrier of panties just yet, sucking with enough pressure for you to feel it through them. You move your hips against his mouth in tiny motions, pushing forward against his lips, and you know you're already fucking soaking, you can feel it if you shift in just the right direction to meet his mouth.

Only seconds pass before Hyuck pulls you closer again, this time slowly rolling himself onto his back as well, but you resist swinging your outer leg over to straddle his face like he wants, digging your nails into his scalp instead.

Hissing at the pain, Hyuck arches his neck to lick along the crease of your thigh. He loses his patience, curling his fingers around your panties and tugging them down, “At least let me see you, yeah?”

You flush at just the thought of him being so close to you and paying so much attention, like he always does. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s pulling your underwear off your legs, and tossing them down at your feet.

He kisses the inside of your thigh and the line of your hip before settling firmly on his back, looking up at you hopefully. You groan again, fully out of frustration this time, and irritably pull his hair. “You’re not giving up then?”

“Nope,” he says. He looks more aroused than he usually does by now, his chest rising with his heavier breaths. “God loves a trier.”

“Wish he didn’t,” you mumble.

You bring both hands up to your face and push your hair away from your forehead, clenching your thighs again before shifting up onto your knees, watching Hyuck’s eyes move down between your legs as you settle over his face.

He isn’t subtle, spreading you with his thumbs and looking over you. Your muscles clench on their own when you think about what he might see. He swears quietly to himself, and you wonder if it’s visible how wet you already are or if he’ll have to feel it to find out.

“C’mere, babe,” he says, keeping you open, still watching between your legs. He looks up to your face when you squirm, “can’t reach, I wanna taste you.”

“God, shut up.”

You lean forward, putting all your weight on your hands that are braced against the mattress, and slowly spread your thighs wider, muscles shaking already. Hyuck moves his hands to your hips and helps you ease down, leaning up to meet you at first, tongue already waiting to press flat against your clit. You gasp in surprise and jerk your hips forward before drawing up again, away from his mouth, but he tightens his grip on you.

“Shh, c’mon,” he says, easy and coaxing, “relax and c’mere.”

You tense as he pulls you back down to his mouth, but he gives you warning this time, turning his head to let his lips trail along the inside of your thigh before slowly making his way between your legs again, kissing your clit gently. It’s easier this time, and you try to let yourself relax.

The position just feels dirty to you, your breasts hanging heavy where you’re bent forward, nipples brushing against your top. Hyuck’s hands soothing on your body, sliding from your hips up your sides and back down, and you let yourself moan quietly when he gives your clit another soft lick.

“Yeah, that’s better,” he murmurs; you echo him, a quiet yeah that sounds more pleading than you expect.

He hooks his fingers around where your hips bend into your thighs, lowering his head back to the mattress to encourage you to drop down even more. You feel flushed and hot along nearly your entire body, especially right between your legs when you give in and inch down further, seeking out his tongue again. With your head hanging down, it’s hard to look anywhere but his face; he looks back, fitting his lips around your clit when you reach his mouth. He sucks softly, tilting his head back more, and the first touch of his chin against your cunt makes you blush deeper.

For his part, Hyuck just sighs against you and closes his eyes, flexing his fingers on your hips and slipping his tongue over your clit while it’s inside his mouth. You gasp and dig your nails into the mattress, tempted to move a hand down to hold onto his hair. But you need both hands for balance, keeping yourself relaxed while Hyuck pulls you down closer to him with gentle little tugs.

Honestly, it feels nothing at all like riding his cock; with his cock, you know then that you can bear down with as much weight as you like, know that he’ll push right back up and meet you. Like this, you’re shaky and unsure of how heavily you can settle down over his mouth, and he’s hardly giving you a chance to think it through. He keeps his tongue flat against you but slides it down from your clit until he can push the tip inside your cunt just enough to tease. You moan softly and try to roll your hips forward, wanting something deep enough to clench around, but Hyuck holds you still.

“Like that?” He asks, and you groan, squirming down against his lips when he kisses you there, thumbs going back to holding you open so he can lick inside.

You know you don’t need to answer his question - he knows your body better than you do - but you reply anyway with a strangled curse, shifting your hips to grind against the flat of his tongue now that his hands can’t hold you still. He moans softly against you, trailing off into a hum as he sucks a kiss over your clit.

“Keep doing that,” he mumbles, words vibrating against you, “move like that, make yourself cum.”

Your breath leaves you in a rush and you bend closer to the mattress, elbows going momentarily weak.

You pant; sounding desperate as you obey him. He starts sliding his hands from your hips up your stomach and under your top to give you free rein of your movements.

It’s hotter than you expected it to be, moving to rub your clit against Hyuck’s tongue. He reaches up far enough to pinch both your nipples between his fingers, just tight enough that there’s a tug when you roll your hips forward, shoulders pulling back. When you push forward far enough to get the tip of his tongue nestled inside you, you can feel his nose nudging your clit; you stay like that for a moment, rocking down against the pointed end of his tongue before you give in, whining.

“In me, put it in me deeper.”

Hyuck groans louder against you now, pinching your nipples tighter. “So fuckin’ wet,” he murmurs, tilting his head back and slipping his tongue inside as deep as it’ll let him go.

“Keep your hands there,” you instruct, and he pinches again as a reply, gentler this time. Ignoring any leftover uncertainty, you straighten your back to sit up and free your hands, immediately cradling his head.

You can feel his heavy breaths against you every time he pulls his tongue back to lick his lips. It becomes easier to take control of the situation. You find, Hyuck doesn’t seem to protest when he’s like this, licking over and inside with eagerness each time you urge yourself closer to his mouth.

The slow climb to your orgasm starts when he forgets your earlier request and heads back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a slick sound that’s loud. You let your head tilt back into the feeling, the ends of your hair tickling the curve of your spine.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe, not even sure if he hears you over his own encouraging hums. The vibrations are subtle but just enough for you to rock into, twisting your fingers tight into his hair and holding on as you move to keep his head in place.

Using Hyuck’s mouth to actually work yourself up to cumming is much more like riding his cock. The motions feel the same: thighs flexing, hips tilting for the best angle, fighting to keep your balance. It might even be better than riding him, with the firm suction and Hyuck’s soft tongue, knowing that he’s conserving his breaths for you, wanting to make you cum more than he wants anything else at the moment.

His hands have strayed down at your ribs, fingers digging in to hold onto you like you’re holding onto him, and his steadying grip along with the constant pull on your clit is what makes you finally lose it.

You let yourself groan out loud when it first hits, grinding down hard into his mouth, trusting him to know how much you can take while you ride it out. It becomes too intense in seconds, your sensitivity ramping up so quickly that you can’t keep up with it, but Hyuck pulls his mouth away as soon as you whimper, dragging his nails down your sides.

“Fuck,” he groans. He works one arm under your thigh to reach for his dick, and you feel his shoulder shaking underneath you right away.

You’re panting, still hovering over his mouth; he’s wet down to his chin, lips parted and slick. It’s a bit of a rush to look down at him and watch his eyes open to find yours, dropping back down between your legs while he touches himself.

You smile hazily, “Think you liked that more than I did, and I’m the one that came.”

“I might’ve,” he agrees, his voice tight.

Wanting to give him a show, you release your grip on his hair to touch yourself, fingers slipping down until you inch one inside, deeper and more solid than Hyuck’s tongue was, but jolting from the sensitivity. You’re close enough to his face that your knuckles brush his damp chin, and he tucks his head down to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Don’t tease me,” he says.

“Who’s teasing?” You ask, as playful as you can sound with your breath still panting fast.

Your original hesitance about the position isn’t even at the back of your mind now, not with Hyuck’s chest heaving under your weight and his eyes flicking fast over your body like he isn’t sure where to look.

“You could let me taste again,” he tries, tilting his head to the side to rub his face up against your inner thigh. You feel his arm move quicker, like just the idea is helping bring him off. It’s not an idea you oppose, judging from the small burst of arousal you feel when he kisses your skin and licks between breaths.

“That good, is it?”

You take in another one of your fingers and let them sink deeper, still sensitive enough to draw a gasp. Hyuck doesn’t respond, just keeps his hand moving and looks up at your face, barely starting to tremble the closer he gets.

When you slip your fingers out, you re-tighten your grip on his hair. His eyes are losing focus, but still trying to stay open to watch you. The sheen on his lips still glistens, so you drag your fingertip along his bottom lip and only get halfway across his mouth before he opens to suck them inside. He finally stops delaying the inevitable and shuts his eyes.

You hardly ever see your boyfriend like this, his body language edging on desperate. His cock is flushed darkest at the head and nearly as wet as you are, a little pool of pre-cum gathers on his stomach. The hand not jerking himself now is gripping your thigh tightly enough to leave indentations around his fingertips, and his toes are curled in on themselves; his whole body is wound so tightly, muscles straining.

He keeps sucking at your fingers sharply, letting them muffle any noises he makes.

“Didn’t know you’d like this so much,” you say, “next time I’ll turn around so I can suck your cock too.”

Much like before, just the idea is enough for Hyuck; he freezes just as his orgasm starts, then moans around your fingers, mouth going slack even as his hand keeps working fast. You hook your fingers gently over the bottom set of his teeth and rub your thumb over his jaw.

Just as you’re about to contort yourself enough to lean down and kiss him, you feel a hot splash against your back and you gasp, even as Hyuck’s eyes stay closed tightly.

“Oh my god,” you say, dragging your fingers from his mouth and over his chin, waiting until he opens his eyes to continue. “If you got cum on my shirt, I take back my offer.”

Hyuck’s laugh leaves him before he can help it, more of a giggle with little power behind it. “Payback,” he pants, “for being so difficult.”

“I was thinking of you in my protests,” you argue.

He ignores you. “Well for someone who didn’t wanna come up here like this you sure don’t seem to wanna move now.”

“That’s because, I know when I move we’re going to have to clean up. Also I’m in a position of power like this.”

Attempting to use that supposed position of power, you rise to your knees and finally pull off your top completely, dropping it unceremoniously on Hyuck’s head before letting out a giggle of your own.

“Speaking of which, you can do laundry today,” you say.

“Only if you let me fuck you on the washing machine,” he counters, mimicking your tone. He makes no move to pull the cloth from his face.

“Hyuck!” You snap; he shrugs animatedly, making up for the lack of visible facial expression. After a beat, you relent, “I suppose those vibrations probably would be nice.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream hard hours #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct scenarios #kpop smut #nct imagines

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steviewashere · 1 month

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Baby Blanket

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abandonment (as I think that's what it would technically be even if Steve is an adult at this point) Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Sick Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has a Complicated Relationship With His Mom, Baby Blanket, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Loves Him So Bad, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Sad Steve Harrington, Cuddling & Snuggling For @steddieangstyaugust Day 15 Prompt: Childhood (apologies that I'm late, but this idea hit me very last minute on the 15th, oops!) Also, I didn't mean to describe Linus's (from Peanuts/Charlie Brown) blanket, but I sorta did?

🌡️—————🌡️ He’s careful about inserting the thermometer into Steve’s mouth. Even as the aforementioned guy coughs around it, jostling the little glass thing, nearly knocking it straight back down to the floor. But he’s prepared to keep it from crashing this time. No way is he going out to the store—again—to replace the damn thing.

“Breathe slow through your nose, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, demanding lightly. “I know it’s hard to do right now, but we won’t get an accurate reading if you spit this thing out.” He cups his palms under Steve’s chin just in case, all too riled at the thought of having to be the catcher on the field. But it just ends up being a precautionary thing—as Steve, though rolling his eyes, does exactly what he’s told.

It’s a slow going process. The mercury inside working up, up, up as the time ticks away. A minute passes and Eddie knows that Steve is suppressing coughs. His eyes have gone watery and his cheeks, already flushed, glow a deeper and brighter terrible red. There’s got to be a huge wad of snot stuck half past and around the block in his right nostril, the feeble attempts at sucking in air are just that—feeble. And the deepest tell to Steve’s state is the awful, wet, raspy rattling croaking from his chest.

Inwardly, Eddie raises his fist at whatever god allowed the creation of the flu virus. And he shakes that fist for causing that damn virus to spread.

His watch beeps, two minutes up. And he gently pries the thermometer from Steve’s overly moist mouth, unlocking the hacking of his lungs, and the spray of his spit, and the miserable attempts to cover it all up with his elbow. Not like that would do anything, Eddie bitterly thinks, I already had this shit last week.

103 degrees Fahrenheit.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters. He sets the thermometer onto the coffee table. Reaches out for Steve’s shoulders and forces him back down onto his right side—half flopped already on the sofa, just needs to get his legs tucked back underneath him. And he pets a shaking hand over the exposed, goosepimpled, and overheated skin of Steve’s bicep. Usually, this muscle tank he’s got going on would be hot, but now it’s just…bleh. “Listen,” Eddie whispers, “if your fever doesn’t break by tomorrow morning, I have to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Steve gives a weak whine. Eyes closed, mouth twisted, shivering. “I don’t wanna,” he petulantly protests; but that’s not going to work on Eddie. Not this time, at least.

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, “I know, baby. But I’m serious this time. You’ve already been sick a while longer than I have. And you’re shaking like a leaf. And though you finally were able to keep down some crackers and soup—and water, thank god—you’ve barely had anything to eat. I’m just”—he sighs—“I’m worried, Steve. I’m worried this is something more than just the average flu.”

Another weak little sound, this time something like a sniffle. And when Eddie gets a clear look at Steve’s face, no longer buried into the soft throw pillow under his head, his heart begins to fracture. Tears streak Steve’s already ruddy, terribly warm cheeks. And his lips are quivering. And his eyebrows are quirked in an uncomfortable twist.

And Eddie hates this.

“Baby?” He calls to Steve.

“S-sorry,” Steve chokes out, “I don’t feel good.”

He brings his hand off of Steve’s bicep, instead cupping the back of his head. “Okay,” he softly says, “you don’t need to be sorry, baby. But thank you for telling me how you’re feeling. Can you tell me what doesn’t feel good? Maybe I can help fix it?”

For a long moment, Steve doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gets the last of his tears out of his system, lets Eddie hold him along his greasy hair, and continues to shiver through his whole body. Finally, he whispers, “Can you stay and…can you cuddle with me?” He doesn’t look Eddie in the eyes when he requests it. Doesn’t dare drag his sight off the loose threads of the throw pillows, strings that Eddie promised he would sew back straight when they were both feeling better. Steve takes another raspy, deep breath that physically pains Eddie to even hear. And then he tacks on, softer than before, “My mom used to when she still loved…” He sighs.

There’s not much to say to that, other than Eddie immediately and already agreeing. Because a cuddle with his boyfriend is as easy as breathing air for him. But they still haven’t touched on the sore subject that is Steve’s parents. Or Steve’s childhood, for that matter.

It’s not like there’s much reason to. Not when they’ve got a life outside of Hawkins now and have their own apartment and Steve hasn’t spoken to either of his parents in roughly three whole years. Not when they’ve learned to take responsibility for each other—both in the duty of making sure the other is safe and healthy, and in the sense that without the other, one of them just wouldn’t be. And it’s never time to talk about Steve’s parents when all they’ve done is push him aside, leave him second best to their work and social lives, and when they finally paid attention—they realized that having a certain type of kid (a word that they don’t repeat, an f word) hindered all the “work” they’ve done for the family they have.

Not that they’re family.

But they tried to act like one at some point.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, “let’s get you to our room, okay? You want me to get anything else before I slip into bed with you?”

Again, Steve takes a moment of silence. Then, “I stole one of my mom’s blankets when we moved in here. It’s in the hall closet. Can I have that?”

“Yes, baby. What’s the pattern on it?”

Quietly, Steve answers, “My baby blanket. The blue one. It has my name embroidered on it.”

“I’ll grab it, I promise. Now, let me get you to bed and I’ll be with you in just a second.”

He easily and carefully picks Steve up from the couch. Not exactly light, but not heavy either. And shuffles the two of them down the hallway to their bedroom. Tucks Steve under just the top sheet, no comforter. Pushes hair away from his forehead and back behind his ear. Leaves a little kiss to his right cheek, the heat radiating onto Eddie’s lips.

Then, Eddie grabs what he needs: an ice pack from the freezer, a cold bottle of water, the container of cough syrup, and some Tylenol. It’s the baby blanket that’s harder to get. Not because it’s buried in the back of the closet. And not because it’s simply not there.

But it’s the way it lays between Eddie’s hands that really gets him.

It’s a pale blue. Something close to periwinkle. Has a light layer of fuzz and lint, as if it’s hardly been washed over the years. Too precious of cargo to run through the washing machine, and too hard to take away for a hand wash when Steve probably needed it all the time. The edges are frayed—strings loose, some of the stitching completely missing, a few tears that would never be sewn up to the original corner it’s meant to be. There’s a couple small stains on it, most likely from being dragged or even dropped in dirt. In the bottom right corner of the fabric is a name embroidered in off-white floss: Steve. Though, upon closer inspection, it appears one of the letters is missing. The only thing left in its wake is the shadow of what should’ve been an ’N.’ Like maybe it had been altered at some point.

The size of the thing pulls at Eddie’s heart strings, too.

Not a big one—like the quilt his mama made when he had turned three, though it wouldn’t fully cover him until he was ten (when she wouldn’t see him use it, but he tries hard not to think of that. Tries.). It’s not medium, either. No, this baby blanket is the perfect size for a baby; a newborn baby.

Underneath Eddie’s right index finger, he feels a soft tag on the back of the blanket. And when he flips it over, he spots exactly that. A tag. Not with care instructions like some of those store bought blankets—pre-determined with a name. No, it’s a screwy kind of tag. Made from obvious silk, scrap fabric, off-white, too, but yellowing from old age. And in a black, inky scrawl, it reads:

‘For you, my little prince. For my heart. I love you always. -Mommy’

And he didn’t want to cry, but he’s close to bursting with the need to. So, he shoves that little bit of emotion back inside, puts the blanket in the crook of his left elbow, and carries his haul back to their bedroom. Where he finds Steve in the same position: curled up on his left side, hands tucked under his chin, legs bent and ankles crossed, the top sheet pulled all the way up to his wrists, eyes glazed and looking at the empty left spot of the mattress where Eddie should be.

He puts the ice pack on the back of Steve’s neck, even if he’s met with a slight hiss and a half-assed wriggle away. But, thankfully, the fight can be put off because Steve stops trying to get away. To that, Eddie internally relieves a sigh. Twists the cap off of the bottle of water, but places it on Steve’s bedside table for him to reach later. The cough syrup and Tylenol go to Eddie’s table. But the baby blanket goes immediately to Steve, who takes it with quick, healthy movements.

Eddie can only lay himself under the top sheet, melting and softening at the sight of Steve bringing the blanket up close to his face, tucking one of the torn and frayed edges to his bottom lip. He runs the old fabric on his dry mouth, almost like he’s smearing kisses along the thing.

“Thank you,” Steve tiredly breathes.

Laying on his right side, Eddie has full access to Steve from where he is. He reaches out a gentle hand to the side of his boyfriend’s face, caresses his skin tenderly, and then pulls him close between his shoulder blades. Not quite tucked into Eddie’s warmth, but enough that they could share body heat. But he does tangle their legs together, just to give them contact, just to satiate some of what Steve needs.

Steve scoots even closer, though. Closer than how they should lay considering he’s got a temperature that nearly warrants a hospital visit. But Eddie lets him lay his head on his shoulder. Lets him puff warm air onto his neck. Lets him take.

“Eds?”

He hums questioningly.

A hard, yet slow intake of breath. “I miss my mom,” Steve admits quietly. So quietly, Eddie almost doesn’t hear him. But he does. Damnit, he does. “She’s not a bad person. She’s not…she’s not what my dad made her to be.”

“I know,” Eddie can only say, “I know, Stevie.”

“She love—s me.”

Eddie throws his left arm over Steve’s waist, brushes his hand over the small of Steve’s back. “Yeah?” He asks softly.

“Mhm,” Steve answers, “I know it.” Eddie can just feel the tickle of the baby blanket brush him. Like it’s being pulled even closer. “She made this for me. And she…she used to tell me stories. And she took care of me when I was sick.”

He has to bite his tongue, even as his fingers betray him—as they squeeze Steve at the utterance of those words. Because he knows better than to point out the ‘was’ in those sentences. He knows better than to make a point that Steve’s mom hasn’t even bothered to try and keep contact. Even when she was given a phone number—“For emergencies,” so Steve had said.

Though, that makes Eddie wonder if it was for emergencies at all.

Makes him wonder if it really meant, “Call me every once in a while. Don’t be a stranger.”

He can’t tell Steve, delirious and sick and sad Steve, that his mom is effectively a stranger now. Can’t do that. Can’t be the one to tell him that his mom is basically dead. And the evidence of that is her absence.

He can’t do that.

“Oh, she loves you so much, baby,” he lies.

Steve nods. His hair scraping the underside of Eddie’s jaw, dirty and heavy and prickly. “She does,” he agrees. Then, he goes silent again. His fingers running over the blanket, feet rustling under the top sheet, skin on skin, nasally breaths through a stuffed up nose.

“Doesn’t she?” Steve asks later, quiet and low. Unsure.

🌡️—————🌡️

#steddieangstyaugust #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #sick fic #sick steve harrington

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prettylittledollswork · 2 months

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Hello!! I have a request for you!

Malleus x fem reader where he takes her to Briar Valley and he shows her different rooms in the castle until they stumble upon an empty ballroom. As reader is looking around she subconsciously starts humming and Malleus takes her hands and starts waltzing with her!!!!

You’re wonderful! Feel free to ignore this if you so choose!

This sounds awesome 🙏 i tried to keep it a drabble or so since i’m going through writers block. not my gif btw! okay this turned out WAY longer than i had expected… it was going to be a short drabble but became a short 1 shot. also, 2 posts within an day? what the flip!

Midnight Waltz - Malleus Draconia x Reader one shot!

extra tags: pre-established relationship, mentions of reader being not as strong as Malleus, rushed a bit too, overall fluff and adorable malleus coming your way!! (he’s a bit of a yapper in this one… not proofread, might have a grammar mistake or two) but of oc! malleus (mb..) reader is yuu, comes from Earth, i couldn’t help myself😞 gn! reader but reader does dance the female counterpart to a waltz(?) don’t know what it’s called but malleus takes the lead with a hand on your hip and another on your hand. over usage of as, i’m sorry i love the word. Enjoy!!!

Malleus was ecstatic—no, beyond ecstatic! when you agreed to visit his castle and his home in Briar Valley. He was nervous, unsure if you were going to like it or not. He wanted to teleport you there but first decided to show you around the town, so he decided on a carriage. It was going to be a long drive, you thought to yourself.

“This was one of my favorite places to visit when I was younger; I snuck off a lot out of the palace.” You could see a slight, dumb smile plastered on his face. You listened along, enjoying the lively view. You could truly see the light in his eyes, figuratively and physically.

By the time you arrived, it was pretty dark already, but neither yours nor Malleus’s excitement faded. Therefore, you two decided to explore it, whether it was extremely dark or not. He first wanted to make sure, though; after all, you were so weak. Compared to him,.

“Are you sure you don’t need a nap? We can do it tomorrow.” Malleus suggested, worried about your health as it was the top priority, well, to him at least. You simply nodded, ecstatic to look around.

He waited for the carriage to come to a full stop, with a butler opening the carriage door as he stepped out, and then dismissed the butler. He put his hand out, smiling at you and gesturing for you to take it. You smile back at him, taking it as he waits for you to get off. With your hand in his, he uses his other to point to a few key, important parts of the structure.

“That is a three-headed gargoyle; it was added here to protect the castle gates.” He smiles, leading you deeper inside. “Where do you want to look first?” Malleus breaks the silence, staring at you as you stare at the magnificent structure. It was just like a Gothic-victorian-style cathedral back on Earth. You stare back, “Let’s explore your favorite spots first!” He smiles at your response, almost as if he were proud.

Malleus continues leading you in, showing you around, and suddenly, you find yourself in the middle of a ballroom. You had caught a glimpse of it, and it gave such a There was such an enchanting vibe that you just felt compelled to go. You hummed to yourself, a tune you didn’t know. Wait, why were you humming? And a tune you didn’t know?

It was dark, the only form of light being a large window that seemed to suck in the moonlight and enchant the middle of the room, right where you were dancing. It felt as if you were possessed, in a good way. You smiled, staring at Malleus with his hair flowing gracefully, just like his moves in the ballroom. You were glad he took the initiative. You both get more confident step by step, beat by beat, with the dance concluding with a graceful spin and you stepping back as both you and him stoop down out of respect.

“I never knew you knew such an old folk dance.” The green-eyed fae chuckles, “I didn’t.” You respond as both you and him walk as he concludes his tour. He doesn’t question it, maybe too tired to; he simply smiles. Deciding not to question the wonders of the world.

#malleus x yuu #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland #disney twst

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 9

He just can't give up.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, slight Angst, personal insecurities, SFW but kook is naked the entire time help, [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

When Jungkook emerges from the bathroom, you’re already dressed in at least a pair of panties and a shirt of his that’s way too big for you.

He however doesn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry to put on any clothes, as he marches back into the bedroom naked, no shame at all while his hand rubs a towel over his damp hair. “Jungkook-” you say, and he hums a reply to you, shaking some water out of his ear before he turns to you, tattooed skin distracting you for a moment before you find your thoughts again. “-I... Really love you, you know. But I’m still mad.” You shrug, making his face morph into one of urgency, as he watches you sigh and get up to open the dresser. “I’m going to have a weekend with the girls to-” You start, but his eyes fall open in shock, blood running cold.

Shit.

“No!” He whines, like a wounded animal almost, making you frown at him. “I mean- babe please, I already had to spend one whole night without you-” He complains weakly, unable to really prevent you from getting out clothes for yourself as you pack an overnight bag that’s pink in colour. “-please-”

“Jungkook just give me that.” You say, looking at him as he takes out one of your sweaters again. “I don’t want to lash out at you just because I’m still riled up from the shit that happened these past few weeks.” You say, referring to past outbursts that had been common- and that hurt him, you know that. You’ve got a pretty bad temper, you’re aware of this, and you’ve been trying hard to control it especially with him, because the words that sometimes tend to slip through your lips aren’t the truth at all-, they’re just meant to hurt, nothing else.

And hurt they do, because you know him well, and know what his weak spots are.

But Jungkook isn’t someone you want to hurt- you actually want to avoid that at all cost, but with the pressure of the past stress he’s put you throught just as much as he’d had to carry it, you’re very aware of the fact that you might just end up scolding and yelling at him for things he’s got no control over. And you don’t want that. You hate feeling annoyed by him.

But for Jungkook, this is absolutely horrible. You can’t leave, not this weekend at least. He’s just blasted half his money on his bank account out for the plane tickets, and the Airbnb is booked and currently being prepared for the two of you. If you leave now, everything would’ve been for nothing.

“No, you don’t get it- you can’t leave...” He complains, as you roll your eyes, closing the closet to instead venture into the bathroom to pack your skincare into a small bag. “-baby are you listening to me?” He urges, but you just shrug.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like dancing to the song you’re singing right now..” You just mumble, and suddenly, he becomes serious-

Before he walks out the bedroom, out of sight.

“Jungkook?” You call out, but you don’t get a reply at all- so you just can’t help but walk out the bedroom to see what the hell your naked boyfriend could be doing right now, just to find him right in front of the front door, sitting to block it, arms crossed just like his legs. “Jeon Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing?” You ask, looking at him in disbelief.

“You’re not leaving.” He says, staring ahead of himself, determined as ever while some water drops from the slightly curled ends of his dark hair. He must be freezing his ass off- quite literally- and you just can’t help but worry.

“Jungkook please, the floor is cold as fuck-” You whine, walking towards him to try and pull him up by his arm- but he’s not moving, his weight preventing you from even getting him to remotely get up. “Jungk-”

“Say you’ll stay then.” He looks up at you, goosebumps already rising on his forearms.

“I already told them I’d come along this weekend, I’m going to be back Sunday evening!” You complain. “You’re being-”

“You can just tell them your boyfriend is taking you to an expensive as fuck holiday trip.” He says, looking you straight in the eyes. “That it was a surprise, that you didn’t know.” Jungkook offers, and you frown again.

“Jungkook you know I can’t lie!” You whine, pulling at his arm again, but his hand moves now to hold your wrist, catching your attention.

“Who said it’s a lie?” He asks, and from his tone of voice to the look on his face, you know he’s serious.

“...Jungkook, what the fuck?” You almost whisper out. “Why? And how would you even pay for that-” You argue, sitting down on your knees next to him now, completely caught off guard.

“With overtime.” He shrugs. “Side jobs. And some weird assets I made for some indie-game I doubt will ever be released to be honest.” He explains.

“So you didn’t ignore me because you were seeing someone else... but, hold on.” You shake your head. “You constantly went out with the boys though?” You argue, and at that, he seems to become visibly a bit bashful.

Shy even.

“No, that was...” He plays with his lip ring. “...I took on a nightshift job at the bar we went to with your dad last year. You know, the one where that guy fell off his chair and cleared the whole table in the process?” He chuckles, looking down at his knees.

“...” You look at him for a good moment, silently, before your shoulders relax. “Oh Jungkook... why?” You coo, finally realizing why he was always so extremely burned out, and why he smelled of alcohol and cigarettes every night he came home.

“I.. That's the thing. I can’t tell you yet- but I will.” He urges, moving a bit to face you. “If you don’t go with the girls, but me instead.” He tells you, eyes anxiously jumping from one of yours to the other as he waits for your answer. And after a moment, you nod.

“Okay.” You tell him, before you move to smack his thigh, and stand up,-

“But put on some pants first, idiot!

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

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wooahaes · 11 months

Text

sturdy leaves

pairing: non-idol!dino x gn!reader

genre: fluff + established relationship au. reader (+ seungkwan) is an elementary school teacher.

word count: 0.8k~

warnings: reader is referred to as 'pretty' once (due to the look on their face).

daisy's notes: m... men... being loving........ collapses onto ground.

Chan sat on the ground with you, sitting on a blanket because the cold autumn ground was awful to sit on, and realized just how much he loved you. When you’d turned down his offer to go out this morning because you had work to do… He’d merely offered to come keep you company. He had listened to the soft hum you let out, phone pressed warmly against his ear, and waited. He waved away Seungkwan before he could tease him for the sappy expression on his face, and made his way toward the kitchen.

“I’m collecting leaves for my kids arts and crafts projects this week,” you’d said after a moment. “It’s not exactly fun work. It’s kinda cold out, too—”

“I’ll do it!” He had said immediately, “I’ll come help you.”

Seungkwan had muttered something about how whipped Chan was for you. Chan merely ignored him this time. Normally, it’d make him bicker: at least I’m dating someone! which would be met with at least I get to see them every day, because Seungkwan never let Chan live without knowing that the two of you wouldn’t have met without him. But Chan disappeared into his room, immediately bundling up. You’d told him to come to the park to find leaves with you, and he was there as fast as he could.

He’d leaned against you a little, sorting through a pile of leaves you’d swept up together. Chan liked to watch how careful you were in picking out leaves for your elementary school students. He’d tried to be picky, too: nothing too small, or too limp, or too broken, or too… well, weak? The ones that were perfect for stepping on because they crumbled immediately with that beautiful crunch. They needed to be sturdy, and Chan had already broken a few while searching through.

“So… What are you doing with them?”

“Making little ghosts,” you hummed. “We’ll paint them white together and draw on little faces.”

It sounded cute. “Is that all?”

You dropped another golden leaf into your bag. “Seungkwan’s making the owls for our class, too. And I think we’re going to have them trace leaves, too, for this watercolor art thing.” You paused after a moment. “You could come by after school and see.”

He smiled a little to himself. “Really?”

“The kids are so creative, y’know,” you already had this fond, sweet smile on your face that Chan longed to kiss. There was always something so tender in your voice whenever you talked about your students. Sure, you had your complaints sometimes, but you (and Seungkwan: Chan saw that same spark in him, too) loved your job wholeheartedly. “I always like doing crafts with them,” you said. “We get to teach them about the seasons and leaves changing… and create some cute things for the classroom, too.”

Sometimes… Chan wished that he was the one teaching alongside you. But honestly, he was glad you and Seungkwan had each other to fall back onto. Chan liked being outside of that world, always right there to give you an escape from all of it. He’d helped you grade multiple choice tests and quizzes before, always happy to press a sticker onto them whenever applicable. Hell, he liked buying you more stickers to use on your students’ work. There was something so endearing about how happy you’d get, always thrilled to see that he’d been thinking about you. But he was glad to exist outside of the world itself, happy to talk to you about whatever project was going on at his own work—you’d always said you liked hearing about other adult problems after spending so many hours with kids and your fellow teachers.

“I’d love to,” Chan said after a moment. “I like seeing what the kids make.”

“You don’t have to lie,” you teased. “You like seeing me.”

He chuckled, “I love seeing you. I like seeing the craft-things. There’s a difference.”

You leaned in to steal a quick kiss. “I know,” you hummed. “I just like to hear you say it.”

Only for you to pull away from him the moment you heard a kid’s voice yell out in recognition, one of your students having spotted you while out with her dad. She’s already taken off running toward you, and you rose to greet her. The man immediately grew flustered as he scooped her into his arms, promptly apologizing to you—she was excitable, and there was something else about how you were one of her favorite teachers ever.

Chan just smiled to himself as he watched you crouch down a little, talking politely to your student while showing her one of the leaves you’d collected. “Isn’t it pretty?”Yeah. That kind look on your face was pretty. And Chan would sneak a picture of it whenever he could, just so he could commit it entirely to memory.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @weird-bookworm

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #dino x you #dino x reader #dino fluff #dino imagines #lee chan x reader #lee chan x you #lee chan fluff #lee chan imagines #wooahaes.fall23

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ohtomatotome · 7 months

Text

It's You. You're My Kink.

Recipient: @kokorokai as part of the ‘My Ikémen Valentine' Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary

Characters: (Ikemen Prince) Clavis Lelouch and MC/Emma. Established relationship

Recipient’s Request: 🌶 NSFW content with a dominant Clavis

Premise: He knows she knows his weakness is alcohol and his fetish is her thighs. But he doesn't know her weaknesses, fetishes, kinks, or fantasies. It's time to force some sexy secrets out of his lovely lover. Written from Clavis’s PoV.

Content Tags: consensual, soft dom, cunnilingus, sensory play, blindfold, light bondage/restraints, ropes, temperature play, spanking/impact play, anal toys, dildo, vibrators, ball gag, orgasm control, edging, begging, praise.

Word count: 7,500

Author's Notes are at the end of the story.

TITLE: It's You. You're My Kink.

Emma unwrapped the gift box and took out a skein of lavender shibari rope and leather wrist restraints. There was a pause as she held them in her hands before giving me a dubious glance.

Oh? Already wary, are we? Heh, heh.

“I’d make a guess that you are inviting me to be your ‘lovely accomplice’ in setting up traps, but … Clavis, this … is not your usual rope for traps. And this.” She dangled the cuff from her fingers, “isn’t usually part of your traps, either. I’d hope, anyway?!?” A strained giggle, paired with her eyebrows pulled up together in confusion made an exquisite reaction.

Ah, well, let me spell it out so she’s not taken unawares when the fun begins tomorrow.

“What’s that? You say you would love to enjoy some alone time with your handsome prince? And you give your consent for some kinky fun? Oh, Emma, I’m so happy you decided to accept my invitation!”

I noticed her eyes widened at the mention of ‘kinky’. Oh ho.

My meaningful gaze bore down on her and I gave her my most wicked smirk.

“Oh! Oh, that’s what this is about? Clavis, your ruses and … gifts always make me second-guess myself. At first I thought it had to do with something sexy, but that’s not usually your style to be so obvious, so I was stumped.” This time, Emma’s giggle was adorably genuine.

The smirk still firmly in place, I waited a moment for her to continue. For her to give the answer I was certain of. For her to say ‘yes’.

But she only just looked at me, mild amusement on her face and nothing else coming out of her pretty mouth.

Well.

I cleared my throat, “Aaaaand, my lovely lover? What is your answer? Do you give me your consent to try all manner of delicious deviant deeds this weekend?”

At this, her perfect cheeks turned a ripe shade of strawberry pink.

Hm, yes that’s more like it.

She asked, “...all manner? Like what?”

Just as I was about to open my mouth and give her a most ambiguous answer, she hurriedly spoke again.

“Nevermind! I don’t think I want to know ahead of time. I trust you. Yes, darling, you have my consent for … kinky things.” Her hesitation towards the end came with downcast eyes and even redder cheeks.

Excellent, excellent.

I clapped my hands once in triumph, crowing, “Wonderful! You can leave all the travel preparations to me. All you need to do is pack your own bag.”

I leaned forward so my face filled her view, and pitched my voice lower and with seriousness, without a trace of my usual flamboyance, “Listen closely.”

She stiffened at this unfamiliar tone, curious eyes never once leaving mine.

“This is what you will pack: 4 pairs of panties and bras, your most comfortable robe, and the new corset you will find in your bottom dresser drawer. That is all. You don’t need anything else to wear on this trip. Nod if you understand.”

Emma hesitated, looking as if she had a question to ask, but then nodded. A timid smile was creeping across her lips.

I wanted very much to kiss it off her face, and then keep kissing her until we were both breathless.

Instead, I kept my composure and merely said, “Good girl. Be ready to go in the morning. Good night, and sweet dreams. I love you.”

After a kiss to her forehead – mm-hmm, her hair smelled heavenly – I stood up to leave.

“Uh- um, good night, darling. I love you, too.”

I closed the door and inhaled deeply. Why did no one warn me that practicing dominance meant that you also were to be exercising extreme self-control on yourself?? Augh!

I had seen a heated glimmer in her eyes, something I’m sure was not there before I gave her her packing orders.

Good. Good.

The experiment was off to a smashing start. I had intended to begin the kink level low, even before we reached my manor. This first part was intended to dictate her actions. By commanding what she must pack, my words and presence would continue to be with her as she is packing. She’ll be thinking about me all night and morning, long before she even sees me in the carriage. Every time she looks at her suitcase, she’ll be reminded of my strong tone of voice.

I wonder if she liked that experience tonight?

Emma liked it. Liked it very, very much. She sat on the sofa for a good long while, savoring the intimidating and arousing aura that Clavis had directed at her. It was so new!

When she finally pulled out the corset he had mentioned, she swallowed hard. This wasn’t a pretty lace and satin thing of lingerie. It was leather, well-stitched and expertly made for durability and comfort. It was an elegant shade of lilac, with an almost pearlescent sheen. Beautiful, actually. There were buckles and straps, metal eyelets and rings attached at various places that had nothing to do with the closures.

Now that she looked at it with a critical eye, the row of three black and gold straps across the front mimicked Clavis’s short uniform coat. She bit back a chuckle at her fiance's audacity before setting to work with packing only the essentials he had mentioned, all the while her imagination filled with images of him.

“Stand here. Don’t move from this spot.”

We had reached my manor without incident, and I immediately went to work on my experiment to discover Emma’s hidden kinks. I removed my white overcoat, boots, and scabbard, placing them on the bench by the bedroom door. Watching her as I loosened the buttons of my lilac jacket and returned in a slow stroll, I noticed she was clutching nervously at her skirt. But she never took a step.

“Should I take off my clothes, too?” Her question was touched with anxiety.

“No,” I cooed, “You only need to do what I tell you to. For right now, place your feet a little further apart so you have better balance. Yes, like that. Well done.”

I delivered my praise with a light caress to her temple. I was pleased to see the glow of warmth was back in her exquisite eyes. My bunny must be liking this already. I wonder what is going on inside that brilliant mind of hers right now?

I slid the dark violet cravat off my collar and stepped around behind her. Silently, I tied it around her head as a blindfold. Only when I was certain it was secure and she couldn’t see, did I lean in close to her ear to whisper huskily, “First: a little sensory deprivation to heighten your other senses.”

She flinched at my nearness, but relaxed soon enough. Next it was time for the wrist cuffs. These were a thing of beauty, crafted by the same skilled leather worker who built Emma’s custom corset. They were made of white leather with padding on the inside and edges, adjustable buckle, and reinforced D-rings. Expertly designed to my specifications.

I gracefully slid my palm down from her shoulder to her wrist, stopping there to encircle her delicate wrist within my thumb and forefinger. Just a moment, just long enough to give her a hint of what was coming. I put one cuff on that wrist, tightening the strap until it was almost flush to her skin. “Tell me: Is that too tight?”

She shook her head. I saw it, but this wouldn’t do. Had she forgotten already?

I tapped her lips with my gloved finger. “Use your words, darling. You must answer out loud when I ask you a question. Now try again: Is this too tight?”

“No. …sir.” The second word was added with apprehension, as if she wasn’t sure she should use the term or not.

Sir?

Hm. I certainly didn’t order her to call me that. Had she read such things in her romance novels? I didn’t want her thinking of those fictional men when I’m right here. Hm. Hmmmm. No. No, I didn’t like it. She needed to call me by my name, dammit.

I held her chin with my thumb to get her attention. “Listen closely: You are to call me Clavis. Not ‘sir’, not ‘master’, not anything else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Clavis,” her answer was confident now.

Good. Very good.

I let go of her chin and put on the other wrist cuff, then snapped the rings of both cuffs together so her hands were bound in the front. She still would have the use of her hands. The object of the cuffs was to give her a small taste of being restrained while I tease the rest of her body.

The next thing was a ball gag. I had made sure to choose the most breathable, most comfortable one intended for beginners. Despite those precautions, I was still worried she might find this item repulsive. Positioning it in front of her mouth, but still an inch away, I warned her, “I have something to put in your mouth. It’s meant to stay there and keep you from talking. If you don’t like how it feels, use the non-verbal sign on tapping me twice to remove it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Clavis.” My lovely fiance opened her mouth obediently.

Such a glorious sight. I wanted to fall to my knees and weep with joy.

But no. No. I must continue to be the one in control.

The Dom.

Right. Back to work.

I set the ball inside her mouth, ordering her to bite down slightly to hold it while I fastened the strap on the side of her head. I waited a moment while watching her face for any signs of discomfort or revulsion. There came none. Just placid trust and patience.

Oh, my sweet, sweet Emma. Well done. Very good. You're being so good for me.

This deserved a reward … which just happened to also be a test. I stepped close to her side, my chest touching her shoulder. My arms encircled her waist to hold her upright as my mouth came a hair-breadth away from her ear. I sighed softly, letting the warm air waft before I assaulted the shell of the ear with kisses, toothy nibbles, and noisy sucking. I didn’t let up until she was fully squirming and seemed unsteady on her feet. But not once did she safe-tap me to stop.

“Ah, your ear is so sensitive now, hm?” I whispered before flicking my tongue out to tickle her ear lobe.

She jerked her head away in surprise, but my arms kept her balanced. I chuckled breathily as her face relaxed and leaned towards me once again. I kissed her cheek, down her jaw, and the side of her neck.

Emma’s muted breathing grew heavier the lower my lips went. Where her blouse collar began I sucked and nipped to leave a splendid mark. I admired it a moment before moving my hands; one to grip the hair at the base of her neck, the other to slowly snake across her stomach and down, traveling over the waistband of her skirt.

I could feel her quiver under my touch, but still she stayed in place. Oh, I’m so proud of you, my sweetest. My hand fisted in her luscious tresses and pulled gently back and to the side so as to expose more of her pure neck to me. I gave a quick peck to the shell of her ear before trailing kisses down her neck again, this time focusing on the erogenous zone where the neck meets the shoulder.

Meanwhile, my other hand continued its journey downward over the beautiful swell of her abdomen, palming her pelvic mound. I pushed the tips of my fingers into the crevice at the apex of her thighs. This earned a shudder from her and a gasp muffled by the ball gag.

So delightful. So trusting. So mine. I love her more than words can say.

I glided my hand upwards to her bound wrists, holding them. My other hand had let go of her hair to settle at the small of her back.

Humming my approval, I pressed a little kiss to her cheek, “You did so well, darling. Such a good girl for me. Now, let’s make you more comfortable, hm?”

After removing the gag, cuffs, and blindfold, I led her to sit on the edge of the bed. She was flushed, but her eyes were bright with delight and curiosity as I knelt in front of her. My hands rubbed back and forth across the tops of her thighs, ruching up the fabric of her skirt.

“Tell me: How did you like the blindfold? The gag? The wrist cuffs?”

Each question was delivered with as calm a voice as I could muster, even though I was bursting at the seams with excitement to know if anything had her galloping with arousal.

She paused before answering, as if she wasn’t expecting to be reviewed on her experience. I smiled and narrowed my eyes.

“Come, come. I’m not looking for an in-depth analysis. Just let me know if any one thing in particular stood out as a favorite.”

Recognition lit her face, as if she had just come up with an answer. As she took a breath to reply, I began unbuttoning her blouse. This action stopped her before any words came out.

Heh, heh. I LOVE to keep her on her toes!

“Don’t mind me, darling. Simply multi-tasking while you talk. Go ahead, now. You were about to say the part you liked the best?” I flashed her an innocent smile, and began to kiss the notch of her throat, eager to keep kissing the skin I exposed while I continued unbuttoning.

She raised an eyebrow in skepticism, but spoke anyway, “I liked it when you gave me orders.”

I was in the process of leaning in to kiss the swell of her breast when this admission caught me by surprise.

Ah!

Darling… ah, my lovely lover. Now it is YOU who have shocked me. Of all the kinky equipment, it was the commands that turned you on the most?

I smiled into her skin as I sucked her nipple into my mouth, earning a responsive jolt and gasp from her. Oh, does she even know how much that answer pleases me?

I pulled away and nodded as sedately as I could, trying not to show how much her reply affected me. “Hm, I see. Thank you for the feedback, dearest. Now, let us continue the experiment, shall we?”

She quirked her eyebrow once more, but I offered no explanation as I finished undressing her and ordered her to lie face-down on the bed. I ran a knuckle lightly over her shoulder blades, murmuring “good girl” as she got comfortable.

The second set of implements were intended to expose her to various temperatures and sensations. I was most interested in the last part of this section: impact play. Would my bunny enjoy being spanked, I wonder?

Over the next few minutes, I subjected her unblemished skin to an ice cube melting over the curve of her buttocks, melted wax dripped down her spine, feathers tickling her rib cage, softest cashmere rubbing up the backs of her creamy thighs, and rubberized mitts dagging over her hips. All the while, I gave her orders to either be silent, or be vocal. To either keep still or to wriggle and writhe.

During the use of the equipment, one of the commands I gave her was to “respond as honestly as you can, however you wish.”

And what was her adorable answer? “No, please, Clavis. Tell me what to do, what to say. Please?”

I couldn’t help but grin broadly at that, glad she could not see how thrilled I was at her plea. Of course I never let her know my joy. Instead, I bent down so my lips were next to her ear, and she twitched from hearing my threatening tone so close to her, “What’s this? Disobedience? Are you telling me what to do?”

She was quick to shake her head, uttering “Nuh-uh. No. I just … I, um… Sorry? I’ll do my best.”

I straightened up and patted her head proudly. “That’s a good girl.”

It was so cute seeing this new side of her! It seemed as if she was truly enjoying herself in this role.

We continued, eventually getting to the impact play portion. I propped her hips up on several pillows so her gorgeous ass was raised high, perfectly poised for my hand.

I noticed a slight glistening of liquid at the lips between her legs.

Hm. Nice. I hadn’t even touched her there yet.

I hadn’t warned her what was coming next. As I was rummaging through my case for the leather paddle, she ventured a timid question, “Clavis? Are you going to fuck me now? Is that why you stacked all these pillows under me?”

“So soon? Oh, no. Not yet, my lovely. Before we can get to that, we have so many more experiments to try.” I saturated my voice with wicked pleasure.

Her head dropped to the mattress, letting out a groan of immense disappointment.

I chuckled, “Oh, don’t sound so discouraged. I thought you were having fun. But …” I paused, inflecting my next words with dramatic self-pity, “... if you’re getting annoyed with me and wish to stop and go back to your books, I’ll understand.”

Emma snorted with amusement. I could sense the frustrated eye-roll she was giving me. “No. ….Ugh, no. Don’t – “ she huffed, pausing a second as if she needed to recollect her submissive act. “PLEASE don’t stop, Clavis. Please?”

I was more than happy to oblige her eager entreaty. She was scrumptious when she acted like this: wanton for me to fill her, but pliant enough to go along with my schemes. I was rock-hard already, my already tight white pants made all the tighter.

“Mm-hm, you asked so nicely. I suppose I could continue.” I rested my gloved hand on her soft bottom, to hint at what was coming. “This next part may be a little intense, darling. So please remember to use the safe-word if you need me to stop. Okay?”

She meekly answered, “Yes, Clavis, I understand.”

“That’s my girl.” I began slowly tapping her butt cheeks lightly, alternating randomly between sides. Then increased the tempo. Then the force, just a bit.

Her ass was slightly pink. Like a peach. Mmmm… so juicy, I could take a bite of that velvety flesh. Fuuuuuck, I want her now.

No.

Not yet.

I removed my gloves and ran my hands soothingly over the skin, reveling in the warmth and softness, trying to rein myself in.

She hadn’t made a sound until my bare palm met her skin – that’s when Emma gave a happy fluttering sigh, like the releasing of doves.

Oh, my sparkling jewel. My beautiful bride-to-be. My everything. How can one exhale from you do such things to my soul?

I took a deep breath and pulled my hand back, aiming for the next series of spankings. Each got progressively harder and closer to her center, near her lips. Droplets of clear nectar dotted the pillows beneath her. It coated my hand more and more as I slapped her pussy. But still she only moaned. She gave no signs of pain or reaching her limit. Marvelous.

I stopped to wipe my sticky hand on a towel, rewarding her with a low-pitched “You’re such a good girl for me. Now, I’ll need you to count each spank, okay? Can you do that for me?”

There was an immediate nod and “Yes, Clavis!”

Again, my domineering posing was protected by her not seeing the big smile I wore. Honestly, I don’t think she had ever been this complaint before. And she seemed so happy to be in this role!

I decided to leave that pondering for a later time, as there was a perky red ass waiting to be slapped right now. I picked up the paddle, and slowly sounded out several hits to the globe of her cheeks, sweeping upwards to channel the force away. She counted as each one turned her skin darker, making it glow with heat.

I stopped my motions, using the cashmere to soothe her inflamed ass and offer a change in sensation.

“Very, very good, dearest.” I picked up an ice cube as I asked, “Now, time for more feedback. Which of these experiences did you like best?”

As if to remind her of where we started, I slid the ice over her buttocks to cool them down. She gasped and shrieked almost in the same breath, jerking her hips at the cold sensation. I kept the ice moving quickly, so as to disperse as much healing coolness as possible. It melted within seconds.

God, her cheeks were red and taut like a ripe plum. She looked good enough to eat.

Ah … That was an excellent idea.

It might be slightly ahead of schedule, but I needed to do SOMETHING to clean up that rivulet running down her inner thigh before it completely drenched the pillows.

She hadn’t answered my question yet.

Hm.

I knelt on the bed behind her and between her legs, gently spreading her thighs with my hands, getting ready to tease her entrance with my tongue as soon as she started speaking.

“Tsk, tsk, I asked a question. You need to answer. Now.”

Emma began, “Well, I re–EEEE! Ah, mmmm!”

I had lapped ravenously at her juices, rejoicing at the lewd sounds it made. And at her own vocal additions, too, of course. I loved her squeals, her moans, her gasps, her groans.

I pulled away just long enough to give her a warning, the hungry growl in my voice not intentional, “Answer, Emma,” before diving back in to finish cleaning her up.

I could get drunk on how she tasted, how she smelled. The musky fragrance filled my lungs. How much longer could I hold out before needing to have her?

She managed to eek out a few words, no semblance of formal sentence structure to be found. Something along the lines of, “Commands. You, your touch. With orderssss. ….f-force me. Love spanking. Pleeeeease, please…. More, more control.”

Those were the words I was able to make out between the whines.

Hm.

She wants to be controlled more? That fit well into my next set of plans.

I petted her hair fondly as I gave her time to come down from the stimulation. “Very well, my lovely fiance. You’ve done so well for me. I think you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

She turned her head my way and dared a glance up. I knelt next to the bed so she wouldn’t have to strain her neck to see me. Her face was beet-red, eyes moist and dreamy, a sleepy smile on her lips. She had caught her breath by now.

“I am. Oh, I am, Clavis. But …” She bit her lip, eyes sliding away from mine.

I knew that look. I LOVED that look. She wanted something, but was feeling foolish for asking. I wanted to pull the truth out of her. Tease it gently, unravel it thread by thread until her innermost wishes were laid bare, safe and vulnerable in my hands.

I began to stroke her hair again, and her eyelids immediately fell shut in contentment. Soft as a summer breeze, I asked “But what, my love? You must tell me, or I’ll never know.”

Her relaxed features twisted suddenly in annoyance, eyes no longer moony but now flashing with sparks. I stopped petting her, doing my best to keep a look of total innocence on my face.

Of course I knew what she wanted.

I wanted it, too.

But not yet.

…Not. Yet.

“Clavis. I want you to make love to me. You already know; I said it before. Please? Don’t … don’t make me ask for it again.”

“Ohhhh, that. Hm,” my tone was non-committal, teasing. I leaned in to kiss her temple, smiling where she couldn’t see me. “Don't worry, I will satisfy you completely. In due time, in due time. But before that can happen, there are just a few more experiences I need you to have, and then review.”

I was being an absolute villain. I was pushing the bounds of her patience.

Would she angrily stomp out of here, cursing my name?

Or would she remain, but grow sullen and cold to my touches?

A plaintive whine left her throat, surprising me. Emma's gaze smoldered, the fiery frustration giving way to a simmering desire. And there was something else in her face … was it uncertainty? She reached out to grip my wrist, a silent request.

What was this about? Was she unwell after all? For a moment, my mask slipped. Concern pinched my brows. My voice was naked, forgetting to dress up in neither dominance nor feigned innocence, “Emma? Are you really okay with continuing?”

She must have sensed my seriousness, because she squeezed my wrist in reassurance before letting go as she nodded. “Yes, truly. I’m sorry if I made you worry. I only whined because … because I am so SO ready for you, and I don’t want to wait any longer. But most of all, I don’t want to beg. And it … it feels like you are pushing me to the brink in hopes of making me beg, like I’m some dog,” her pretty mouth turned down in disgust, “Is that what you are doing? Please, be honest, just this once, no tricks. What is your aim in all these sexy experiments?”

Ah.

So this is something new I have learned about her. Fascinating.

“Sweetest. Darling. I admit I am trying to find out your limits for certain things, but not the boundary you’d cross for begging. My aim, hm? I promise I’ll tell you when all the tests are done. So you keep your pleas unspoken, I do not want you to beg. I only want your honest reactions. I won’t leave you unfulfilled.”

“Promise? I feel like you’re teasing me much more than usual.” A pout began to form on her luscious lips.

“I promise.” I brushed a damp strand of hair behind her ear and pressed another kiss to her temple before standing up. “Now, let’s have you sit up so I can put one little thing on you before you lie on your back.”

My goodness, what a glorious sight.

Was there any man on this earth as lucky as me, to be blessed with seeing his lovely lover trussed up, spread out, and waiting in complete trust? I stood back to take in the full view, and swallowed hard.

I had taken great delight in lacing her up in the custom-made corset, seeing the leather pulling taut against her breasts. Her wrists were back in the cuffs, attached to the headboard. One leg was bent at the knee, pulled back as far to her torso as was comfortable, and then bound in that position with the lavender rope. Her other leg was restrained at a similar angle in a white leather straps to match her cuffs (a gentleman makes sure his lady’s accessories always match), clipped to the rings in the side of her corset.

It was an uncoordinated sort of look, more slap-dash than I had originally planned. Also, I was irked at not getting to try out the nipple clamps, but they wouldn’t work at the same time as having her wear the corset.

Was I rushing the schedule?

Perhaps.

Was I loading up all the implements and toys in one go, instead of one at a time like I had originally planned?

Maybe.

Was it because I was hanging on to my self-control by a thread?

Yes.

Yes, absolutely.

I had been straining at the front of my trousers so tightly that I decided to remove them and everything else I was wearing.

“Comfortable, darling?” I asked as I walked around to the head of the bed once more. Emma eyed my erection greedily, licking her lips.

But she only said, “Yes, Clavis.”

Her voice was sweetly obedient. The sound of it made me proud enough to crow from the rooftops.

“Then let’s begin our last set of experiences. You asked for me to be even more controlling, so that’s exactly what I’ll be doing. Don’t forget to use the safe-word if you need to. Do keep in mind that I will be asking for feedback. So try to keep track of how everything I do makes you feel.”

I kissed her full on the mouth quickly – too quickly so she wouldn’t have time to reciprocate – then gave her a cheeky wink before strolling to the foot of the bed, where I had a tray waiting with lube and various toys, plugs, dildos, and vibrators.

Choices, choices.

Where to start?

I looked adoringly at the two holes presented to me: one inviting and glistening, the other shy and puckered closed. Hidden at the top of this sight was the precious little rosebud that led to the high-pitched squeals I loved so much.

Deciding to start out slow with minimal invasion, I lubed up the tiny anal probe vibrator and smeared a dollop at the entrance of her ass. I felt her shiver at the touch, yet I pushed in slowly, slowly with the tip of my finger until it was finally granted at admittance. Emma gasped. I slid the probe in next to my finger until it was all the way in where it needed to be. Then I moved my finger in and out slowly a few times to help that area relax, to get her familiar with the sensation.

When I pulled my finger out, I pressed a lubed-up anal plug to the entrance until it sunk in. There came a tiny groan from my lady love. The facets of the princess-cut amethyst at the end of the plug caught the light and twinkled at me. I couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction at the view. I decided right at that moment to buy her matching amethyst earrings made with the same exact cut. It would be our own little private joke when she wears them in public.

“Turning it on, my dove,” I crooned a warning before toggling the switch on the probe.

“Huh? Turning wha–aaAHH!” Her hips jolted off the bed as soon as the vibrator went to work in her pert little asshole.

Miniscule moans were uttered from the head of the bed as I began to prepare the next toy: a dildo with a harness that connected to her corset rings to keep in place, so it wouldn’t get pushed out in her exertion. It was needed since my hands would be busy elsewhere. No lube was needed for this one; she was already wet enough to have a pool gathering on the purple towel underneath her. I rubbed the head and shaft along her folds, coating it in her essence.

This earned an audible inhale from her; does she know how her sounds drive me mad with lust?

I pushed it in slowly, letting her adjust to the size. It was another custom-designed item, made especially for tonight. She hadn’t seen this dildo before, but if she had there would have been recognition in the length and girth, even the slight angle. Of course it was a product of my ego. But if she was going to have anything inside her besides me, then I wanted to be like me in every way possible.

Once it was in all the way up to the hilt, I pulled it out at a lazy drag asking, “Still feeling fine, sweetest?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed while wiggling her hips to bring back some friction. The restraints of leather and rope made this futile effort extremely entertaining. I gave her what she wanted: I thrust the toy in and out repeatedly at her favorite pace. The languid moans rose in frequency and pitch.

God, she was magnificent.

I. Needed. Her. Now.

I held onto my sanity long enough to thrust it in one last time before attaching it to the harness. A questioning whine came from her throat as she saw me move to the side of the bed with the tray. From her vantage point, she wouldn’t be able to see the vibrators I was going to use.

Okay, time to get into the role, Clavis.

You can do this.

This is the last big hurrah. Time to finish things up exactly how she’d like. With complete control.

I wonder: when she asked me to take more control, did she have any premonition that I’d be ending the experiment with edging and orgasm control?

I began to tease her clit with the lowest setting on the most gentle toy. Switched over to a powerful wand for an intense but short time. Then switched to an intermediate one, moving all the way through the speeds, gauging her reactions. I was careful to keep an ear to her breathing while watching the telltale signs of her hips.

All the while I was changing the toys to keep her on her toes, I was issuing commands. Things like: countdown from 5, stay silent, moan loudly, scream my name (that one was fun), keep still, don’t you dare cum yet, etc.

Each time she obeyed, I rewarded her with a “good girl” and a deep kiss. Sometimes I just kissed her through the exquisite trials of a particular vibrator. Other times I slowly massaged her sensitive bundle of nerves with my thumb, sometimes my tongue. I lavished attention on that treasure until her chest was heaving with exertion and the breathing was ragged.

I had lost count of the times I brought her almost up the edge and then brought her back down.

I moved all the vibrators aside and sat on the edge of the bed so she could see my face.

This goddess, this angel, was mine. Completely mine.

Sweat-soaked face, eyes glazed over with lust, lips dry from panting, hair a total mess.

She had never been lovelier.

And never once did she beg. No plea of “Just let me cum!” There had been plenty of cursing and saying my name as if it was a curse itself. Lots of delicious moaning, gasping, squealing, and sighing. But no begging.

Amazing. My Emma was simply amazing.

I let her catch her breath before I reached out to cup her cheek and ask, “Now, if you please, I would like some feed-”

…”CLAVIS.” Her hoarse voice was serious. As were her eyes.

I stopped talking immediately, my attention entirely on what she thought was important enough to interrupt our review. My elegant eyebrows lifted in silent inquiry.

“No feedback,” was all she said.

I echoed her, asking “No feedback?”

“No feedback,” she repeated.

“Care to elaborate, dearest?” I cooed while stroking the side of her face with my thumb.

“No.”

I started to panic a little. She hadn’t used the safe-word, so I had thought she was enjoying being endlessly edged to hell and back. Had I been wrong? Had I missed a cue? Did I hurt her, and she was just being brave? Was she angry with me?

Something resembling concern must have made it through my mask of dominance, for she sighed and added, “I’m not injured or sore. Maybe a little overstimulated. But I’m fine. I would have used the safeword if I had been unsure about continuing. So don’t look so worried, Clavis.”

Ah.

…okay.

I was flummoxed as to what made her so taciturn all of a sudden.

“You want your feedback, don’t you? Then you’ll get it. But only after you satisfy me.” That severe expression held no room for compromise.

I loved seeing her so serious. She was breathtaking. How I loved her!

As my lips began to curl into a pleased smile, she cut in with a demand of her own: “Fuck me, Clavis. Now.”

My smile froze.

Great heavens, she was irresistible like this.

I felt compelled to obey, even though I had been the one issuing commands all day. I attempted to remain smooth and masterful as I lowered my face within inches of hers.

Feigning nonchalance, I said, “I suppose I could make a compromise, since my lovely fiance is so desperate for me.”

She rolled her eyes, quirking her mouth into a wry expression. “Well, get on with it. I’m … I am – ugh, Clavis, don’t you … ?“

I forstalled her fumbling words by pressing a kiss to those pouting lips, giving her time to gather her words. Would she beg, I wonder?

At last she mumbled, “I need you. Don’t you … need me, too? Or is this teasing torture all you want?” Those tender eyes slid away from mine, downcast.

Arrows. To the heart. A barrage of steel-tipped bolts lodged in my chest, stealing my breath.

Oh, my precious. Had I made you doubt my desire for you?

She hadn’t begged or bargained after all. She hadn’t needed to. Not that I ever wanted her to. That hadn’t been my goal.

My goal.

Oh.

In the delicious taunting and torment, I had almost lost sight of why I started all this.

I wanted to find out her secret kinks, her guilty pleasures.

Sighing an apology, I hurriedly kissed her lips. “No, no, my sweetheart, my dove, my everything. Of course I need you. I’m sorry. The –”

–” then why –” she began.

I immediately rushed in with the explanation she deserved, – “because I wanted to discover what set you aflame. You already know I’m crazy about your thighs. And well, everything about you, truly. And you know all my weaknesses. You know how to drive me wild. I feel at your mercy every time we are in bed. I … I simply had to find at least one of your fetishes, a kink, a secret touch or toy that made you lose yourself to me the way I feel helpless around you.”

There.

I had come clean.

I feared she would laugh, even though I knew my darling would never ridicule me when I was laid vulnerable to her like this.

And yet.

I was scared anyway.

I felt more naked than I actually was. Like my chest was open, heart exposed.

“Ohhhh. Clavis.” Her sympathetic sigh was balm to my nerves. My name on her lips was full of love and acceptance. Not a scrap of judgment or mocking was present.

She began to reach her hands to me, forgetful of their bondage. The clanking metal of the cuffs’ links jangled me out of my self-pity, reminding me to school my features into something less pathetic.

“Let’s get you out of these, hm? I think the sexy experiment is over. It yielded no results.” I attempted to sound like my usual self as I unclasped the leather restraints from the headboard.

“You’re wrong, honey. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.” The sultry smile on her face grew.

I simply blinked at her while I undid the buckles to free her wrists.

Emma continued, “Perhaps the feedback wasn’t what you expected. But I could have told you what you wanted to know without going to all the trouble.”

Hmmm?? What was this?

She bit her lip slyly before adding, “Not that I didn’t like the, um, experiments. It was a fun and new experience with you.”

I kept silent, but nodded to encourage her to continue. What was she going to divulge?

I moved to the foot of the bed to undo the ropes on one leg and the leather straps on the other as she spoke.

“None of those toys or equipment were something that unlocked a new deviant side of myself. There was no one particular place you touched or action you did that wasn’t more special or spicy than the others. But there was one constant throughout the entire adventure that kept me aroused more than anything else.”

After I tossed the rope and restraints to the floor, I noticed the imprints left behind. Little lines indented her supple skin. My fingers traced them gently, lovingly. Her thighs were like a canvas for the rope patterns. I was relieved to see there were no angry red marks. I kissed the trail of criss-crossing marks, reveling in the softness of her glorious legs.

She paused, as if waiting for me to give her my full attention. I rose from my worship of the world’s most perfect thighs and asked, “Oh? You’re giving me feedback after all? Lucky me. Do go on,” I purred as my palms glided from her hips to her knees.

“It was how you acted. You were still Clavis. The Clavis I love. But you were also … more. Different. It was the domineering act you put on. The way you commanded me to do or not do something. I loved submitting to your orders. I … I enjoyed putting myself completely in your control. Because I trust you. And because it felt exhilarating to be at the whims of a man who usually is out of control.”

She giggled, giving me a knowing look. It was the truth. I didn’t interrupt her to say she was wrong.

Emma went on, “You are chaos incarnate, sweetie. Your political plans are masterful, but your outward attitude is so flippant, so unpredictable, that nobody realizes how dastardly clever you truly are. But today you behaved differently. You were so sure of yourself. Sure of what reactions you wanted to pull out of me. And that was what put me into a frenzy more than anything. It was seeing you execute whatever plan you had in mind, and entrusting myself to your care. Because I love you and I know you would never hurt me.”

My mouth had gone dry and I realized at some point my hands had stopped their trek across her sumptuous legs.

The full impact of what she said was still hitting me: None of the bondage gear or implements or sensation tricks I used were effective at uncovering a new kink.

It had been me! And her! It had been the Dom/sub roleplay that had been at the heart of her arousal this whole time.

I almost laughed out of sheer exhaustion at realizing that we hadn’t needed any of the periphery, not a single whip or blindfold or toy.

All we needed was the two of us.

“It’s you. You’re my kink.” Her sheepish words echoed my thoughts. “There’s your feedback. Now. Ahem. Clavis, I believe you were FINALLY about to fuck me, right?”

“One hundred percent correct, my lovely lover. But first let’s get this off you. I don’t want anything between us.” I made fast work of the buckles on the front of her corset.

Taking into account how tired and sensitive she was from all my previous ministrations that day, I didn’t over-exert our love-making. That first time, at least. The rest of the weekend was full of intense, laborious exercise in bed. I gave in to every one of her whims and requests.

On our final afternoon in the manor, Emma slid off of me, panting, before she caught her breath enough to speak her mind. It somehow flowed from the conversation we had had on that very first day of the experiment.

“No one gives you enough credit for all the effort and intellect. You keep your brainpower too well hidden, and it frustrates me that people don’t appreciate how smart and resourceful you are. Do you know how it feels to have everyone think I love a fool? How it feels to have everyone look at my husband-to-be like he’s just some weird idiot, instead of the intelligent and caring and amazing man he is inside? Do you? I don’t think you do, sweetie. It’s infuriating. And you never correct them!”

“Heh. And neither will you. Ever. I prefer it that way. And you know why.”

She did. And it set my heart aflame to know that she understood my wiles and reasons, yet still got angry on my behalf.

Oh, darling. I don’t deserve you.

Knowing that she adored my hard work and brains was enough to spark a dozen new ideas for the next time we had a weekend away.

She loved my cunning. And my cunnilingus. I would put both to work next time, along with that domineering side that drove her wild.

I grinned wickedly.

She saw it, and responded with a wicked smile of her own. “Uh-oh, what does THAT look mean? You look positively villainous… I love it.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

AUTHOR’S NOTES:

😏 I’m curious to see what the readers think their safe-word is? Comment or reblog with your idea! I can’t wait to see what you guess! Hee hee!!! 😘

I don't usually write in first-person PoV. But for some reason when I started this, Clavis INSISTED he be the one to speak. The words must come from his mouth and not from a disinterested observer. Pfft. Okay, pal. Man, he can be pushy. And he's SO GOOD at getting his way!!

Kokoro! Bryn had mentioned you said “It’s Valentine’s Day, I want them to fuck!” 😏🤣 LOLOLOL And here I realized by the time the D/s scenario had wrapped up, Clavis still hadn’t DONE THE DEED. 😳🥹 Ack! I’m sorry! 🙈🙃😅 It was implied that they did, indeed, fuck several times during their weekend away. But I didn’t have time to write it all out. I’m sure the scenes would be far more delicious and steamy in your imagination than I could put them into words. So please visualize to your heart’s content! 😈😉

48 notes · View notes

hanasnx · 2 years

Text

comfort

NOTES: this was stuck in my head like you wouldn’t believe. i’m still trying to find han’s voice & this was my way of practicing. i have been watching a lot of clips of harrison ford when he was young from movies like american graffiti & i just spiraled | this is lowkey based off of a scene from a movie called “the other woman” i think | look it’s my first han piece WARNINGS: like i said, han being insensitive. like not even really angst tbh, established relationship, size difference, gender neutral reader, han doesn’t know how to apologize in the healthiest way i guess but he sure tries. so hurt/comfort??? angst/fluff?? please im a smut writer. this is not my expertise

Sometimes HAN SOLO doesn’t realize how harsh he comes off. He’s such a sweetheart when he wants to be, but there are the weak occasions when he’s so painfully blunt that it pierces you. Especially because you care so much about what he thinks.

Perhaps it was one of his famous tongue-in-cheek moments, his specific brand of humor— that if you’re not careful enough, will go right over your head— but you’d already had such a difficult day. Things had gone wrong left and right, and unknowingly, your lover only exacerbated it.

You tune back in to the conversation, just in time to hear him say: “… maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass long enough, you’d realize Feng Shui’s bullshit.”

There’s a deep lurch inside of you, that tugs at your heartstrings and tears well in your eyes. Silence that causes him to glance at you only to return to his work at the wires hanging from an open panel in the wall of the Falcon. “It’s a waste of time.” he adds, as if his opinion needs more evidence to back himself up.

The tools you held for him feel cold and heavy, and you clutch them to focus on something else other than crying. Your breath quickens as you form your next words. “That’s… you know—“ Hot tears spill down your cheeks, and in your frustration you throw down his apparatus with a clatter. The noise alerts him, as well as the possibility they’d land on his feet, flinching; he lays his bewildered eyes on you, intent to see for himself what exactly your problem is. Your voice twists, heightening in pitch, throat aching from choking back a sob. “I don’t make fun of your things, but as soon as I have something—“

“—Baby, baby—” he’s swift to comfort, soothing you with his voice, and reaching out for you with his large hands, resting on your upper arms.

“—I like Feng Shui it teaches you to make the most use of your space—“ you speak over him defensively, afraid if you didn’t blurt it out that you’d cry too hard to finish what you had to say.

“—Sweetheart, listen,” Finally your eyes meet his as he cups your face, collecting your streamline of tears on the meat of his thumbs, soft lips pecking yours to coo and pacify you to reticence. Suddenly you’re aware of how predictable you are to him as he draws you into his chest— disregarding your uncertain resistance— wrapping his thick arms around you. His chin sits atop your head. “I’m sorry, kid, I didn’t mean it.”

As much as you want to fight it out, find an excuse to release your pent up anger, you relax as you always do, breathing in his scent. An apology is not a gift you hear regularly from Han. Once again, he seamlessly comforts you. Brings you back from the edge. You fist his shirt, sniffling softly, and once he’s sure you’ve accepted him, his warm body curls around you, stooping to press you as close as possible, so his cheek lays on your forehead.

As easy as lulling a baby to sleep, he rocks you in place, swaying you right into complacency, and you let go of your argument. “You’re right about it, you’re right. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” he murmurs.

You sniff, and guide him from you; since you’ve calmed down, he gingerly releases you.

Tilting his head at you, he brings his hand up from your back to wipe the wetness of your crying with his knuckles. Dabbing under each eye gently, and flicks your chin up so you look at him.

Cautiously, as if afraid he’d set you off again, he peers at you through his brows. “You okay, kid? We good?”

You press your lips together and nod, raking a hand through your hair to get it out of your face, eyes falling to the floor in shame. So he inclines to catch your gaze, he’s not going to let you get away with that. “I wanna hear you say it, princess.”

“Yes, yes. I’m good, we’re good. It, uh, just got away from me, is all.” you toss at him, convictionless, hoping to get along with it.

Searching for the truth, he idles, eyes boring into yours. A good natured pat onto your upper arm and he retracts from you fully to return to his work. “Alright. Hand me that wrench, will ya?”

#indy: drabbles #ch: han #han solo drabble #han solo x reader #han solo imagine #reader insert #han solo fanfiction #hurt/comfort #han solo angst #han solo fluff #angst #fluff

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corellianhounds · 6 months

Text

“Kill Your Darlings” to Streamline Your Story

Criticism of “The Gathering Storm” in The Book of Boba Fett

Word Count: 1,643

—

I mentioned here that “Kill your darlings” is editing advice that means to cut out something you as the writer really enjoy in a story in order to make the story stronger. If cutting something out makes your story better by clarifying something, narrowing the focus, reinforcing character or plot objectives, bettering the pacing, raising the stakes, or by clearing up valuable space wasted on something we don’t need to see, cut it out.

I think TBoBF suffered from a lot of weak writing choices, and in order to streamline the story a bit some of those characters, visual elements, scenes, or chunks of the script have to go. There’s too much “stuff” happening but not a lot of story, and the script itself isn’t all that interesting to listen to in the first place; a lot of lines just state the obvious or are clichéd and overdone jokes, and there is also a lot of exposition given in monologues vs the audience seeing the story play out for itself.

In a show with only seven episodes, they don’t have time to dwell on anything that doesn’t directly add to Boba’s main plot or character arc, the parts of the world he is operating in, and the other main characters relevant to that story. Though there are other examples, I think a concise example of one of the biggest wastes of space is episode 4, “The Gathering Storm.” Three-fourths of that episode is a loooong long flashback to Boba’s team-up with Fennec, which doesn’t tell us anything new about the characters or the world. The things the flashback tells us are:

Fennec Shand was brought back to life aided by cybernetics (Which was established in a few lines of dialogue in “The Tragedy” of season 2 of The Mandalorian)

Boba formed a partnership with Fennec Shand (Which was established in “The Tragedy” of season 2 of The Mandalorian)

Boba got his ship back (Which was established in “The Tragedy” of season 2 of The Mandalorian)

Boba was searching for his armor (Which was not only foreshadowed in a three second wordless scene in “The Marshal” in season 2 of The Mandalorian, but was established and resolved in “The Tragedy” of the same season)

Boba and Fennec took over Jabba’s Palace (Which was not only more effectively conveyed in a two minute credits scene of the previous season of The Mandalorian, but are also the establishing circumstances of the show we are currently watching)

You see what I’m getting at?

The audience already knows cybernetics exist in this world, and that they are relatively quick, effective, and easily accessible. There is also zero tension in seeing a character come back to life in a flashback when we are watching a show where that character is already alive, and whose presence was also established in a previous season. We don’t need to see Boba get his ship back because we as the audience know Boba Fett is a capable person, so him simply showing back up in a previous season with it doesn’t really have us scratching our heads as to how it was achieved. We don’t learn anything new about his and Fennec’s relationship since we can already tell Fennec doesn’t have a problem working for him and he already treats her as his equal and partner. We don’t need to see the layout of the palace, we don’t need to see them defeating a couple of nobody droids, we don’t really need to see Boba bonding with the bantha, we don’t need the cybernetic mod-parlor, and tbh we don’t really need to see him destroy the Sarlacc.

The only new information the flashback provides is that Boba used the ship to get revenge on the Nikto speederbike gang he thinks killed the Tuskens. In my opinion, the Niktos should have been cut out entirely and more importantly, the Tuskens should have still been alive up until the episode where Cad Bane reveals himself to Boba, and Bane then makes a comment to the effect of “It sure would be a shame if something happened to those closest to you,” which makes Boba realize his tribe could be in danger. That puts the action in the present and presents a physical and emotional obstacle for Boba to overcome.

Boba immediately flies out to either warn them or verify for himself if they are in danger, leaving the Palace defense weakened to the point the Pykes or whoever they hire can attack while Boba is away. They don’t even have to deceive him and cast blame elsewhere, having already murdered the tribe to get back at him and send a message. He already has beef with the Pykes, and they are using this attack against what he holds most dear as their means of weakening, if not destroying him. Get him out of the palace, divide and conquer his defenses while he’s gone, and cause a serious emotional blow to Boba right when they are on the precipice of war, making him emotionally unstable and more likely to be reckless or distracted as a result of the provocation, thus easier to defeat.

They can also be gambling on that anger being enough to push Boba over the edge and have him resort back to his more ruthless past self as a killer, gunning down anybody who would stand in his way on his warpath back to the Pykes, which breaks down the reputation he’s been trying to build being a leader based on having people’s respect, not fear. Then he would have nobody backing him up and he truly would be fighting alone.

Going back to Boba and Fennec, anything they wanted to explore concerning their character dynamics should have been done in the present timeline. Don’t tell the audience “These two are on good terms” and then have zero conflict OR growth between them— Show the audience how these characters interact within the conflicts presented and how their relationship develops in the present.

Something they could have done to strengthen Boba’s character, develop his relationship with Fennec, and consolidate extraneous characters and scenes into stronger ones is if Boba had been the one to save Fennec’s life directly. Cut out the cybernetic mod-parlor and have Boba recognize Shand and drag her back to his own base of operations he established after leaving the Tuskens. Show me Boba doing the work patching her up, Fennec gasping back to life and demanding to know what happened and where she is, and now you’ve given her character a reason to feel even more indebted to his service.

You can then go two ways with their relationship, either with a sense of friendship and camaraderie, both with similar pasts as hunters for hire and both barely escaping the brink of death, OR give them just a bit of conflict and tension, Fennec not liking the fact she feels indebted to Boba for saving her life, and now being forced into a sedentary life that puts her at risk of enemies being more readily able to find her.

Then we can move forward in the present with a number of different possibilities. Fennec should have been serving in the background undercover instead of the foreground anyway, keeping her role as a stealth expert going and adhering to her demand that Boba keep her presence a secret for her own safety and discretion. You could have Fennec resentful of the fact she has to rely on Boba to modify her cybernetics, making her feel further indebted to him while also giving her a weakness she has reason to keep hidden from others. Fennec is not someone who likes to rely on people, a character trait that is paralleled in Boba. All of that would have given her more depth and meat to her role, providing a solid objective for what that character wants within this story. (As the show stands right now, Fennec is static without her own character arc or change throughout the show. She’s more of a yes-man to Boba, a capable character who can accomplish what the plot needs to happen, but not really that interesting to follow on her own because Fennec is established to be content to go along with whatever. She does cool stuff, but it’s more like watching an action figure and less like seeing a character develop.)

Making Boba responsible for saving Fennec also means we could have had his relationship with Cobb Vanth come full circle at the end; instead of simply providing the bacta to heal Vanth, the end of the season should have been Boba personally being the one to fulfill the debt he feels toward the people of Mos Pelgo and the marshal by tending to the marshal himself.

Vanth was Mos Pelgo’s primary defense, he was shot by Boba’s primary emotional and physical antagonist, and he was mortally wounded because he no longer had his biggest defensive advantage: the very armor Boba now has back in his possession that the marshal gave up to Mando in season 2. Cad Bane went out to Mos Pelgo after the people there were contacted as backup for Boba’s conflict, and the people of Mos Pelgo showed up in the fight at the end because of their marshal, not because of Fett. Their presence meant Fett was able to succeed however, and Fett is also not someone who likes being indebted to people. Him doing the actual work the cyberneticist was there for at the end would have further reinforced Fett being somebody now who helps the people who could not or cannot defend themselves. It directs the story’s focus back to him and cuts out extraneous side characters and gives these characters’ relationships a lot more weight, actually threading these individuals together while simultaneously reinforcing Boba Fett as a capable, resourceful, interesting, and meaningful character.

#The Book of Boba Fett #Boba Fett #Fennec Shand #Cobb Vanth #hounds speaks #TBoBF crit #storytelling

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marvelouslizzie · 2 years

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better then I imagined | matt murdock x jennifer walters | one shot

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Jennifer Walters

Word Count: 1.2K

Synopsis: Matt and Jen try something new, and Jen isn't a brat for the first time. It's hard at first, but Matt teaches Jen that patience is a virtue.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, dom!Matt Murdock, sub!Jen Walters, established relationship, light bratting, teasing, fingering, unprotected rough sex

A/N: All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission. Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated.

Jen has no idea how she ended up in this situation. She lays on her stomach with a pillow under her. She feels wholly exposed, but it’s not because of the nakedness. It’s because her ass is entirely on display, but Matt can’t see this. Not directly. Not in detail. He can’t see how much the pillow raises her lower body. How it exposes her asshole and her pussy. Instead, he’s too busy pouring down the lubricant. So much of it. The dampness between her ass cheeks feels bizarre. Like it shouldn’t be there, but before she can make sense of it, another feeling takes over. The lubricant is slipping down slowly. It’s painfully slow, but it still doesn’t take long to reach the right places. From her ass to her center, slowly making its way to the clitoris. She takes a deep breath trying to calm herself down, yet it doesn’t help. The way the lubricant is slipping everywhere is all she can feel, all she can focus on. Instinctively, she moves her hips a little, trying to get a bit of friction, but all she feels is the cold air.

“Don’t move.” Matt’s voice is firm. His hand moves to her back, pushing her a bit down to the pillow, just to limit her movement. “Not yet.”

He’s doing absolutely nothing, except pouring more lubricant and trying to keep her still. Yet, Jen feels unbelievably turned on. She has no idea if it’s the wet feeling or Matt. Maybe both, she thinks.

“How long am I going to wait like this?” It comes out unintentionally bratty.

“As long as I see fit.”

“Maybe I should touch myself instead of waiting for the mood to strike.”

“No. You won’t do that.” He talks like he knows that for a fact. Like he already saw what happened in their future and Jen touching herself is not on the card.

“Why is that?”

Instead of answering, Matt moves his hands closer to her lower body, fingertips lightly touching her inner thighs. Jen takes a sharp breath while he moves his hands slowly and reaches the lips. She has no idea how his touch could be this light. It feels like a feather moving to her most sensitive parts.

“Because if you move, I won’t be touching you like this.”

“I- I need more than this.”

“I know and you will get it. If…”

“If?” Jen quickly asks. She has no patience left.

“If you listen and do what I say.”

“Which is…”

“For you to stay still.”

“Okay.” Jen’s response comes out a little weak.

“I couldn’t hear.” She knows it’s not true. She knows he can hear everything. Including how many breaths their neighbors took at the last minute.

“Liar.”

“This attitude won’t benefit you, Jen.”

“I know you can hear a random guy pouring a glass of water right now. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear me.”

“Okay.” He stops for a second. “I wanna hear you say it louder. How is that?”

“Okay.” She gulps. “I will do whatever you say.”

Matt hums, satisfied with her response. His fingers start to move again. Still slow, but it’s definitely better than nothing. Jen sighs with relief and Matt smiles. His fingertips move up and down, occasionally rubbing her clit. Every time she feels his touch there, she takes a deep breath. The anticipation is building in her stomach, in her muscles. While he keeps moving his fingers the same way, Jen involuntarily tries to feel more of his touch.

“Jen.” That’s all he says. Only her name, but she freezes.

“I’m sorry.” The response comes instantly and Jen doesn’t understand how he managed to make her get this mindset. Normally, she would be a brat even more, but now… she just wanted him to continue whatever he wants to do to her.

Her apology is enough for Matt. He continues to graze over her sensitive flesh and his slight movement gets a low moan out of her. She wants so much more than what he is giving her. Her body is craving his touch and as if he felt her need, he pushes one finger inside her.

“Oh!”

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes!” She answers so quickly while he keeps moving his finger inside and out. Just one finger, but after all that teasing, it feels so good to feel something inside her.

His pace is slow and steady. So it doesn’t take long for Jen to crave more, and the steady pace turns into torture. She wants to say something, but the need he created inside her keeps her on the edge. She lets out a frustrated breath and Matt takes the hint. Quickly but carefully he pushes the second finger inside her and Jen moans loudly.

“You are doing such a good job.” His praise is unexpected, but Jen welcomes it. It gives her the courage to finally speak.

“I need more.” It comes out like begging and it surprises Jen. Her own voice is so raspy and low.

“Since you are being such a good girl…” Matt considers her request. “Third finger or me?”

“You.”

“Very well.”

All Jen hears is the clink of a metal. That’s him, unbuckling his belt. Soon it’s followed by the sound of unzipping and then she hears him pushing down his pants.

Matt grabs himself and aligns his cock right at her center. He can already hear Jen's anticipation, the blood rushing, and the change in her breathing.

“Take a deep breath,” Matt advises and she immediately listens.

He moves the head of his cock a little, teasing her for one last time. Then he pushes inside her, in one swift movement. In a second, he’s completely inside, and Jen feels overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. A loud sound escapes her, but she has no idea if it’s a moan or a yelp.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks and she hears a little bit of concern in his voice.

“I am. Don’t worry."

“Are you sure?”

“Just move. Please.”

It’s Matt’s turn to obey. He doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t hesitate. It’s not slow anymore. It’s not steady. It’s needy and sloppy. Jen hears his low moans and smiles. Finally, she thinks. Finally, we are even. He quickly picks up the speed and their moans and loud breaths fill the room. Jen's body trembles with the impact of the approaching orgasm.

“I’m close,” Matt says right after feeling her.

“Me too.” She takes a deep breath. “Harder, please.”

His response is slamming himself inside her. The noise that comes out of Jen’s lips isn’t human. She cries out of pleasure and he just wants to hear it again. He pushes himself inside her once again and hears the same response. This new rough pace takes them to climax together. The pleasure is overwhelming, especially for Jen. All that teasing pays off when she cries out his name, gripping what’s near her. Matt’s fingers grab Jen’s hips, his nails digging into her skin while he spills inside her. He keeps moving slowly, riding out their orgasm together.

When they are both done, Matt falls on top of Jen, still inside her. They both continue to feel the orgasm running through their blood. He moves his head a little and leaves a kiss on her neck, rubbing his nose against her skin.

“Was it like you imagined?” Matt whispers in her ear.

“It was better than I imagined.”

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nebulacollege · 1 year

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is it perchance too early to ask who is fucking who... and maybe some notes/'headcanons' about these relationships? (it's your own ocs so they're not headcanons but idk how else to really express what I mean!)

That’s a good question, but such a difficult one... Nothing is certain and I’m not sure how well I’m going to follow what’s going to be written in this reply, so please forgive me!

I’d love to give you a Ryu’s more classical reply with headcanons, but even describing everything in more details takes so much time lol so this answer is just more detailed notes of their relationship.

One thing is sure though: the story is a harem story, and Edmund is the bottom bitch lol so the ships are: Niall/Edmund, Ned/Edmund, and Liam/Edmund. Let’s start with Niall.

Edmund doesn’t like Niall because he’s a fake ass bitch. He has a strong suspicion that Niall isn’t as perfect as he tries to make it look like, even though he doesn’t have any proofs. His popularity is annoying to him, and people who fall for it (like almost the entire school) seem dumb to Edmund - there is no way someone can be so perfect by using honest means.

Niall doesn’t like the fact that Edmund dislikes him so openly, so he tries to act twice as nice to him just to prove him wrong. That’s what he wants people to think. In fact, he’s quite annoyed by this attitude, so his extra attention to Edmund is also done out of spite – he knows how much Edmund dislikes being the centre of attention. Niall gets on his nerves while also looking like a helping hand to a lonely loser in the eyes of others.

So, Niall is bothering him from time to time under the disguise of caring for him, and Edmund wants nothing to do with him while being more open about his disdain.

Not very romantic, right? Their “love story” would depend on something that I’d rather not spoil, but this core basis would remain even if they start dating. Maybe their hate would become stronger, so they’ll have nice love-hate relationship, with the only love between them being passionate sex lol

Next is Ned/Edmund... They have the least thought out relationship, because I hope to write them as the story goes. They depend heavily on it, so there is no pre-established bias like with Niall, so it’s all vague, but their love is the closes one to resemble... well, love.

Ned is someone who is used to depend on a strong/weak division in his life, both in physical aspect and in terms of skills and personality traits. So to him, Edmund, who is quite lacking in all of those aspects, seems underwhelming at best and not very notable. However, this is the first time in his life when he might start thinking that all of this is kind of cute... only after talking enough times with Edmund and gaining sympathy for him.

Edmund has similar bias, but definitely not such a strong one – he’s going to get warmer much faster, and his idea of Ned being a dumb jock is going to disappear into thin air after a couple of conversations. As the chart suggests, he’ll think Ned is cute.

The thing is, when Ned does something, he does it on a big scale. So his love is also going to be extremely passionate, obsessive and... scary. The longer he’s in love, the more intense he and his feelings get. Even if Edmund loves him in return, Ned is overwhelming and doesn’t really listen to him all that well because of his controlling nature.

Liam is his own planet and Edmund is just “lucky” enough to stick around. Since Liam doesn’t like other people all that much, Edmund became his chosen friend by accident. I think Liam would mix their friendship and his sympathy for Edmund into this weird cocktail when they’re not dating, as Liam doesn’t care about dating, but Edmund would still get all the playful flirting (which he has already partially received when they were just friends) and enjoy the special treatment of “now everyone is suffering but you”.

Edmund, on the other hand, can’t tell what Liam is thinking at all, so him agreeing or disagreeing to certain things still can end in something entirely unpredictable. Liam doesn’t listen to him properly anyway. Liam’s physical touches feel very nice, but I think that Edmund’s mind, as well as his heart and his feelings towards Liam, would be a mess.

#nc replies #edmund weyton #ned stafford #liam vernetti #niall mccarthy

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dundunny · 2 years

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Gotham Knights

I’m still finishing up Batgirl’s story, but I beat Gotham Knights. I inevitably compare it to the Arkham series, especially considering it’s the same studio that did Arkham Origins, but really it should be its own standalone.

Let me start off by saying it’s not a bad game. The battle system is much smoother than Arkham’s, and there’s quite a bit of variety between the characters, whether it’s Batgirl’s devastating, hard-hitting blows, Red Hood’s instant-kill headshots, Robin’s ability to sneak and take down an area group of enemies before the battle even starts, or Nightwing’s flowing acrobatics. Everyone is well-rounded and I never felt that any character was the weak, useless one. It just depends on your playing style.

I’ve stated before my love is in the environments, and I like Gotham here. The map is on the borderline of being too big, but the developers managed to keep each neighborhood unique with enough landmarks that you’re usually pretty good on mentally figuring out your location. The area around Wayne Industries vs. Robinson Park vs. the industrial area around the Cauldron allows me to subconsciously tell where I am and the general direction of where I have to go. It’s equally fun to climb and jump over the rooftops as it is to drive through the streets with the motorcycle.

The story is solid and pays good homage to the Court of Owls introduction in the comics, although there are some flaws. Like, we’re arresting Kane? For what? We’ve already established the Court gets whomever they want out on appeal. And Judge Moreno may be willing to sign the warrant, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be the presiding judge for the trial. So that whole section of the plot was silly. However other than that, it’s great to see the team come together to try and figure out Batman’s last case. The maze scene in particular is quite poignant. It really portrays Dick and Tim’s insecurities well, and Jason’s fears of being a monster, and I nearly cried with Barbara when I played Montoya’s call to HQ that Gordon got shot.

And it’s nice to see the Batfam act like human beings to each other for once. Batman’s video recordings where he describes his inner feelings, fears, and joys is something you rarely see in the comics nowadays. (Major shout out to Batman’s VA Michael Antanakos. He’s not Conroy, but his crooning voice was very pleasant to hear.) Jason is in therapy and taking steps to move forward. Tim adores his siblings and likes hanging out with them. Barbara and Dick, although broken up, maintain a strong relationship. Particularly post game, if you just sit in the Belfry and listen to the conversations, you can tell they’re moving forward.

However I need to address the biggest problem: There aren’t enough villains, and to compensate for that the developers made the game repetitious. This game has Mr. Freeze, Clayface, Harley Quinn, and Talia al-Ghul, and you fight the first two twice. Let’s compare that to Arkham Knight, where you fight Azrael, Harley Quinn, Penguin, Deathstroke, Firefly, Deacon Blackfire, Hush, Professor Pyg, Two Face, Nyssa al-Ghul, Mad Hatter, Killer Croc, and Black Mask. And you also had very involved plots with the Riddler, Man-Bat, and Mr. Freeze. You’re so busy juggling all these enemies and subplots that there isn’t any reason to fight regular criminals out on the street. Not only does Gotham Knights require you to fight these random criminals over and over, 90% of the sidequests are basically grind quests. Oh what does Montoya need? For me to break up a criminal deal at the same parking lot I’ve broken up six criminal deals in the past? All right, time to make it a seventh. That’s not interesting. You know what is interesting? Boarding a blimp-prison after hearing Killer Croc got out, only to discover they’re hanging prisoners in cages on the ceiling. Or duking it out with the Mad Hatter in this crazy book wonderland. Or the visceral horror and feeling physically sick when you walk in on Professor Pyg and discovering what he was doing to all those people.

DLC was super lame too. Literally it’s just the same six rooms repeated for twenty-five levels with the same enemies until you get to the bottom and meet Starro. I was excited to fight him, but really it’s just fighting massive group of regular enemies, whom you’ve already beaten just to get here, as you escort Starro to prison. That example I gave in the previous paragraph about the blimp-prison? That was Arkham Knight DLC. Yeah, they definitely could’ve done better.

Besides that, I think one of the best parts of the Arkham series was overhearing conversations from the criminals in the streets. They were so funny and I would stop what I was doing just to listen to completion. Gotham Knights had potential considering this was the first game with normal civilians wandering around, but everything is just one-line quips. They need to get those writers from Arkham back. They definitely worked on Origins, so what happened?

With all my complaints I did enjoy it; after all I played it four times just to see all the cutscenes with each character. The main story is relatively short, I’d give it maybe ten hours, and including sidequests maybe fifteen to twenty. So if you’d like to have a pleasant weekend or two, I’d say try it. And honestly it’s worth it for this scene:

youtube

One question though: Was that lapdog alive, or was she petting a taxidermy?

#gotham knights #batman #nightwing #red hood #robin #batgirl

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stunie · 3 months

Note

Zevie listen just hear me out for a second:

Wind breaker boys discover their gf works in a maid cafe

What do we think do we see the vision

UMEMIYA HAJIME X F!READER! — nsfw ﾉ explicit smut + established relationship ﾉ anon i love your vision ﾉ all the bofurin boys are crushing a lil. very nasty surprise at the end!

Umemiya Hajime’s girlfriend works at a maid cafe.

It caught everyone by surprise the very first time he mentioned visiting it together. A lot of confused stares, a lot of questions about if that’s okay for him to do, because doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Would you be okay knowing the fact that your boyfriend frequents a maid cafe this often? He practically lives there at this point. Umemiya can be found there nearly every day of the week, and he’s always going around telling them about how there’s only one girl he wants to serve him.

They don’t understand until the chirpy sound of your voice fills their ears and they register the sight of you, greeting them with a soft smile and a handful of menus. It had been Umemiya’s idea to come here with everybody, finally introduce them to ‘his favorite girl’ and you to the friends he’s spoken so much about.

Sakura and Nirei are the first ones to break into a furious blush, and the others are stiffening, hands clenching into nervous fists. Even Suo’s eyes are a little wider, curious gaze taking in the sight of you— because oh, you looked so pretty in that outfit. Hiragi seemed to be the only one who already knew about your occupation, but even he’s clenching his jaw when you’re calling him ‘master’ in such a sweet voice.

The meal they shared together was nothing short of tense. Kaji’s ripping through lollipop after lollipop, teeth crunching down against the hard candy because the feeling of your tits brushing against his shoulder for just a brief moment when you leaned over to point to an item on the menu is absolutely consuming him. It won’t leave his mind. Hiragi and Sugishita have gone completely silent, eyes glued to their food as they eat in stiff and awkward movements.

This was their leader’s girlfriend.

And they know that. But they can’t help it.

Umemiya seems completely oblivious to the change in the air, bursting into laughter when Sakura chokes out a piece of food when your hand trails along his shoulder to ask him how everything is tasting. The word ‘taste’ rolled off your tongue just a little too sweetly for him, and that was his last straw. The rest of the meal goes just like that, all of Bofurin’s former students stiffening and sucking in a breath when you check on them, eyes desperately darting around to avoid glueing onto your figure.

It’s not until much later when the cafe is closed for the night that Umemiya does anything else. You’re bent over the same table you served him at just a couple hours earlier, all lights off besides the street lamps faintly illuminating the inside of the cafe.

“I’m so proud of you,” he coos into the shell of your ear, pushing your dress up and balling it around your waist, letting him push his bulge against the swell of your ass. “You did so well.”

The way your cheeks heat up at the praise is almost pathetic, hips swaying back and forth to grind against your master. “P-please,” you stammer. “Please take it out now.”

He smiles, and if you were facing him, you’d probably think the way the lights cast a shadow over his features was a little unsettling. “Mmmm, this?” He presses the vibrator with the tip of his finger, pushing it a little deeper into your drooling cunt, his cock twitching in his pants when you cry out loudly, thighs wildly trembling from the overstimulation.

A weak nod is all you’re able to give him, because it’s taken everything out of you to stay composed the entire day, after all.

“Of course i can, love,” he soothes. “You did so well for me after all. I wouldn’t have been able to tell something like this was inside you the entire time.”

He’s lowering himself onto his knees, head level with your ass as he leans in close to pull out the toy— painfully slow. He takes note of the way your cunt is practically swollen, soaked to the core and you’re shaking so hard, but he knows you’re okay.

You’re always his good girl, always so perfect for him. And the way your walls are instinctively clenching around the vibrator to fight him pulling it out of you is proof of that.

Just the way he’s taught you.

The vibrator falls to the floor with a loud buzz, and you whine when you feel his load finally drip out of your cunt, the plugged cum from earlier events spilling lewdly onto the floor and down the sides of your thighs.

“Ahh,” he clicks his tongue a bit. “I really filled you up too much earlier, didn’t I? Sorry, that’s a lot. I was in a rush.”

Your face burns, mind racing from earlier today, when he had you split open on his cock, strong arms holding your body up against the wall as he rammed himself into you over and over. It ended with him dumping his load deep inside you, plugging it up with a vibrator and a cheerful reminder that he would be visiting you later today to finish it up.

“It’s okay. I’ll get it all out of you, okay?”

Umemiya’s hands come to grip your hips tightly, holding you flush against his aching cock. “This is gonna be your reward since I’m so proud of you.”

#wind breaker smut #wind breaker x reader #umemiya hajime smut #umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #windbreaker smut #windbreaker x reader #umemiya smut #eviewrites #🦢— mail !

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steddiesupportgroup · 2 years

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A season 5 steddie fantasy I’ve been rolling around in my head for days now under the cut

Let’s say we live in a perfect world where wonderful queer coded characters get together how we want them to for a minute- my dream steddie progression would be for them to get closer and more flirty over the course of vol 2, because things are crazy and they need something to break the tension. They both survive, beaten and bruised but alive. Definitely have some “shared trauma,” if you know what I mean

And then season 5 comes and we’re all thinking maybe they’ll flirt some more, have a couple longing glances and lingering touches. At first they seem like normal friends, close but not that close. And then the moment the scene cuts away from the group to just to two of them, Eddie slams Steve up against the wall of an empty bathroom at the bar he plays his shows at. They kiss like they’ve been teaching each other how, grabbing at clothes and hair like they can’t get enough and it’s revealed: they’ve been dating in secret since vecna was destroyed. Those shared looks and shoulder touches throughout the rest of it aren’t because they want to be together but aren’t; it’s for reassurance and to let the other know that they’ll get through it together.

I’m also imagining them having to split up for a little while, both super reluctant, but Eddie kisses Steve’s knuckles and says with all the affection and confidence he can muster, “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Stevie.”

And they LIVE.

#sorry if this doesn’t make sense I’ve had a headache all day #listen I’m just so weak for established relationships you already know #I love fics where they get together but I’m not very good at writing it myself #steddie #steve x eddie #st4 #steddie headcanons

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clubatsumu · 2 years

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saw ur requests were open and wanted to maybe request smth w tsukishima or atsumu, like established relationship and (i'm searching but can't find the right word for it) boring? but like in a familiar and comforting way if you get what i mean? 😭 like yk that feeling u get sometimes where u feel like ur life is stuck at like this one point and u feel a weird need to have it be Exciting and Fun and Fast Paced! i forget often that you don't need to be constantly progressing to be satisfied

im so sorry this request got kind of rambly pls interpret this however u would like :)

(+i'm glad you're back on tumblr <3)

atsumu turns 29 and suddenly he’s domesticated. like an animal — he’d insist on tiger, but all his bravado really amounts to is the waddle of a fattened beagle.

you take home Fattened Beagle (literal) in question one day and Fattened Beagle (man) slams the door in your face with a look of disgust and an emphatic, solid, “no.”

you rap your fist on the door. your door. your door that is used in your house with your name on the lease. “but i already named him!”

“i’m not takin’ care of a dog!” atsumu replies from behind the wood and screen. “nothin’ good comes outta takin’ care of a dog.”

“oh, but i take care of you!”

that earns you a look at his face because he comes out to open his mouth. and before he can say anything, you bust out laughing. that sours his expression even more. you adjust Fattened Beagle in your hands, cradling it like a baby, presenting it like a prize — which it is. you smile, and then blink slowly, knowing he is weak and you are winning. “he was yaga-san’s. his name is haru.”

atsumu scoffs. “what a stupid name.”

you cover the beagle’s ears, which are large, you think with wonder. they’re large and flappy and floppy — like wings without any aeronautical structure. “don’t listen to the grumpy man, haru-chan.”

“you never call me atsumu-chan.”

oh, what a kid.

you kick the back of his knee. “because you’re not sweet.”

it proves difficult. you have to bend your ankle at a degree that pushes your foot back up your leg, then you have to go on your tiptoes because more than he’s tall, there’s also a two-step difference between the inside of the house and outside of it. atsumu yelps and trips a bit, genuinely -- not as an act -- and it’s all worth it.

“stop comparing me to the dog,” he grumbles.

“stop living in my house for free.”

“we’re married.”

you’re sure you’ll be greeted by a sock on the floor when you enter the house. a sock with a lost pair. everytime you ask him where the other one is, he shrugs like he isn’t the one responsible for where his feet go, why they aren’t going to places together. you let out a large sigh. “everyday i am reminded.”

atsumu is more disoriented than usual. he points at the dog. “how old is…”

you adjust him in your arms. “he’s two.”

he takes haru-chan from you, sensing your strained shoulders. he finally, finally let’s you in the house. and there is the sock. you bend to pick it up and toss it in the laundry room. “what did i tell you about --”

“i’ve always wanted a dog.” he cuts loudly, knowing where you’re about to go.

as planned, you lose your original train of thought. you nod, starting to smile again, forgetting all about the sock and starting to get excited because he’ll say yes to the dog. you haven’t even told yaga-san you’d take him for good, just out for a walk, knowing there’s a chance atsumu might say no. but if he says yes, you won’t complain. “i heard something along those lines as well.”

“you could have asked me before so we could’a picked one together.”

“i did.” you blink slowly, making your eyes large and innocent. “last night.”

“i was drunk," he deadpans.

“and you told me to get anythin’ i wanted, because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. light and joy and happiness. darlin’! i would give you the sun if you asked for it!” you cough something raspy out of your throat. atsumu is unamused. you shake your head, leaning closer. “what did rin feed you last night?”

“no clue. something dark and fruity and disgusting. like we were still college students and shit.”

you scrunch your nose. “ew. how’d you get home?”

“cab. it was midnight and i didn’t want to wake you.”

“but you did.” it was hard not to wake up when the front door all but slammed on its frame. atsumu is a large man by anyone’s standards, and a large man stumbling up the steps isn’t exactly inspiring confidence when it’s dark out and past midnight.

so you grabbed your bat, and there he was in all his blond glory, smiling like a stupid idiot, ears red from the cold, in the hallway outside your room, murmuring declarations of love.

“i didn’t want you to drive out.” he tells you now. now that you can take a better look at him, he does look like he had a rough night. his sweatpants are hanging low on his hips, his shirt crumpled. his eyes are red and he looks pale. “anyway, this is what i get for going to suna’s birthday party. a stinky-ass dog. jesus.” he sniffs its belly, and haru-chan stays still. “ya ever heard of body spray? probably not. come on. out. let’s try to make you smell less like shit.”

“we’re takin’ the dog back to the pound.” he says later that night. he didn’t talk to you the whole day, even after you made him hangover soup, but you guessed that was just an aftereffect of everything related to Suna Rintaro’s Big Birthday Bash. but maybe not. you blink, looking at him from the bathroom mirror as he leans on the door behind you. “huh?” you effectively stop brushing your teeth. this is… a surprise.

“yeah. final.” he says in that clipped tone he seems to get on when he's pissed off or inside his head.

“oh.” your brows furrow. was he menstruating? because last you saw him, we was gushing over the dog -- practically drooling more than it was. how did it turn around this quickly? “um. okay.”

he leaves.

atsumu comes back a second later, stomping. “don’t think of wallowing.”

the fuck was he on?

he can be a little bitch all he wants, but really? really, you can do it better.

“i’m not,” you deny, starting to get pissed at the attitude, putting the cap back on your toothbrush with more force than necessary. “who said i was?” you move past him and out of the bathroom, and out of the bedroom in easy steps.

he follows you down the stairs. “where are ya goin’?”

“away from you.” you let the door slam as you go the the makeshift playpen he set up for the haru-chan in the garage.

“quit wallowing.”

“i’m not. i’m taking the dog back to the pound. like you said. final.” you stomp like he did. there is, admittedly, a fair amount of stomping in your house. annoyance starts from your gut and spreads to your spine, and now it is thrumming through your veins like a steady dose of adrenaline.

“quit bein' that way.”

“you quit being that way.” you swivel on your heels. “you’ve been mean to me all day. what’s wrong with you?”

“i didn’t want the dog.”

he could have started with that this morning. but he was grudgingly happy, you saw, so maybe this is about another thing entirely. “you’ve been with the dog all day!”

“well...”

“i got the dog for you ‘cause i knew you had one when you were a kid. osamu told me you loved dogs -- so i wondered -- sorry if i thought wrong--”

“you weren’t wrong.”

“we weren’t even supposed to keep him overnight. i had to text yaga-san to let me keep him for a bit longer because i’d told him i’d just take him out for a walk. but then you went off and bathed him and played with him all day, so of course i decided to just tell you tomorrow that the dog isn’t actually ours yet because you’re having a shit enough day as it is.”

you swear, the look on atsumu's face cannot be drawn or captured. it was pure distress and devasatation, curling the ends of his lips and drooping his ears. “so haru-chan isn’t really ours?”

you almost scratch your head in frustration. “i thought you wanted him back in the pound?”

“you brought home a dog that isn’t ours?” he repeats.

“i thought you’d turn him away if you really didn’t want him. but he was supposed to be a present if you did. so do you?”

“do i what?”

“want the dog.”

“no.” he answers.

you open your palms, gesturing at the dog he's cradling to his chest as it starts to bark at the commotion. “then give me the dog so i can give him back.”

“no.” he replies.

you gape. “what is going on with you?”

late -- later, he comes inside the room with silent steps, and you shuffle closer to your end of the bed. atsumu's footsteps aren’t the only ones there. he brought the beagle to your bedroom. the bed dips with a familiar weight along with something small and skittish, laying beside your back, between you and atsumu.

“i can’t hold my drinks anymore.” he says into the room, knowing you’re probably awake. probably. most likely.

okay, but what does it have to do with the dog?

“you never have.” you grumble.

“yeah, but... it’s -- rin’s still the same as he used to be. no care in the world. a fuckin’ airhead if there was one." he continues, “the younger players in the mix were all there... i’m getting closer to retirement.”

there it is. the real reason rears its head, sprouting from a mouth you wanted to punch so much earlier. all the fight and the annoyance flushes out of your body at hearing the word retirement, because no one said that word around atsumu the same way no one said the word fuck around a baby.

still -- you knew what you were dealing with when you married atsumu, all moods and barbs and blundering words. you love him for his sincerity, for his candor, for everything really. and putting up with you isn't an easy task either, you know all too well, but atsumu does it with genuine pleasure.

even if you saw him take his fears out on the dog, it's scary to realize you still love him the same. you love him differently than when you first met, and you know you'll love him differently ten years from now, but the only thing that's sure is that there will never come a day when you don't love atsumu.

and so, in the spirit of love, you forgive him even if his apology doesn't come in the form of a sorry.

“aren’t there forty year olds in your team?” you try.

“they’re all almost seven feet, so they can play until they’re eighty, probably. me? i can’t do that, babe. i need to be the fastest one on that court and i’ll be a whole lot slower soon. i can feel it. my legs'll be slower than my brain, my sets'll all turn to shit --”

“hey.”

“‘s true.”

“when do you plan on retiring? and you have a plan for it when it comes, i know.”

“never, i hoped. i was twenty-three when i last thought about it. six years flew by like nothin'. and i do have a plan, believe me, i just didn’t think i’d ever reach a point where i’d need it.”

the admittance settles between the two of you like an uncomfortable weight.

“and?” you prompt, knowing there's still something he hasn't said.

“i like it here.” he tells you. he looks at you as he does it, head turning on the pillow. you aren't quite sure what he means, so your brows furrow as you reply, “i’d hope so.”

“no, i mean — i’m satisfied here. with ya." he swallows. "if someone wanted me to pick between this and stayin’ twenty-three and invinsible forever, i’d pick this over and over again without blinkin’. and it’s scary, because my job -- it revolves around bein’ young enough and fast enough and -- this...”

it cleaves your chest, what he says. it makes it squeeze in a way only atsumu has the power to do.

“i know.” you nod. “i know.”

“the dog was the icing on the cake. i thought it last night, but this morning? when you were holdin' it? i swear i felt... like something's changed. something's been changing. and ya know how i am with that. i like this dog too much.” haru-chan sleeps between you. "and i always thought people who had dogs are... settled, ya know. secure. 's why i never got any in the past. who'd feed it at away games? what if it forgets my face?"

you let out a half-hearted smile. “i knew you liked it.”

“you mad?” he asks.

“no. you still have a few years left in you.”

“yeah. but -- if i’m not playing on that court, what am i really?”

the end of the sentence comes out so meek, so low, it hurts you so much, drives a dagger into your chest and twists so slowly that tears spring at the corner of your eyes. and to think you were pissed as hell at him earlier, stomping on floors and banging doors. but then again, that seems to be a language the two of you have no problem sharing, and the end always leads to resolution.

you move closer to him, squishing the dog closer in the caged parenthesis of him and you, and atsumu's arm reaches out as a fingertip skims where your hair meets your temple. this is nice. quiet is nice. and sometimes, you've learned, nothing matters outside the parenthesis.

you met atsumu when you were young. he was a loudmouthed prick with a bad dye-job and you were the only person who was as much of an asshole as he was. and the years spanning in between, somehow, someway, after working and re-working and growing up and growing some more, the two of you ended up in this two storey house in a town twenty minutes away from the city, with a nice breeze and south facing windows in the kitchen, and a backyard that's big enough for a dog, and maybe, just maybe, a couple of kids.

a house of boring people. people who, six years ago, would have made you look at each other with an identical curl in the bridge of your noses.

you and atsumu thrived by jabbing at each other best you can, verbal pinches and pricks, but sometimes, you remember atsumu is a man with a heart of gold, something so soft that you want to protect it with everything you are.

you get those people now. you know he does too. and something in that acceptance was the change that was so slow and gradual he was talking about, that when you try to pinpoint where everything shifted, you'd have to pick at the whole timeline.

“what are you without volleyball?" you say softly. everything will change again too, once he retires, but that's for later. "well. a pain in my ass is one. if you're worrying about what to do, you can always fix the shed. wash the dog. and i like that you don’t have to be so far away half the year anymore. i miss you when you're not around, you know. and you can admit you like taking things slow, and then you can quit the full throttle mode you’ve been operating at your whole life, because i can see that it’s tiring you out now. you can take things slow, and i'll still be here, however you need me, and you'll figure it out like you always do with everything.”

you swallow a lump in your throat, palm brushing haru-chan's fur as atsumu's palm brushes your hair.

“you can be just atsumu. not musubi’s sexy setter — god, i hate that nickname. i hate it so much, tsumu.” you laugh.

"'course you would," he replies, and you can hear a bit of ease in his voice that wasn't there earlier.

you swallow, looking him in the eyes. you see yourself there, in the same place, ten, twenty, fifty years from now, and you find that it doesn't bother you at all, the banality of it, the predicatbility of how it'll go. the thought of you loving him as long as you can fills you with so much comfort.

“my atsumu. you’ve always been my atsumu. it won’t be anything different at all.”

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader

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