#minor procedure but still

[saddestspaghetti]

Really thought I was going to get my tube taken out today but instead I'm being scheduled for surgery lol

[scourgeblooms]

commander ⇾ wayfinder

[south-sea]

provided nothing else goes catastrophically wrong, i am officially back in business ✌️

[music-for-them-asses]

I just found out I have to be at the surgery center tmrw at 6:30 am to check in 😭😭😭😭 and my procedure is at 8. And only liquids for 24 hours after that 💀

[genderqueerdykes]

i love when intersex people try to talk about our issues people try to hit us with a "that doesn't count, that would be like 0.01% of the population you're talking about," ahh response, which I have personally received several times at this point.

everyone loves to be confident to pull some bullshit statistic out of their ass to be dismissive, but it's funny because they never do a second of research. the United Nations Human Rights Office estimates 1.7% of the population are born intersex:

even if the numbers were any lower, it would still be worth talking about intersex issues. any amount of people with these experiences are worth representing and discussing. we should not have to be invisible because our conditions are so stigmatized that many of us receive "Corrective" procedures just after birth, during childhood, or puberty. so many of us are swept under the rug, that's part of the reason why the statistics vary depending on which area is reporting the statistics.

you can't weaponize how marginalized someone is against them. if we fight for people with the most specific gender identities that can't be easily explained in one or two words, we must include intersex people. if we include people who use unique pronouns not seen in current common vernacular, we must support intersex people. if we support other queer minorities, we must support intersex people.

it's not an option. you can act like we are a statistic on a page, a number you can't possibly fathom in your mind, but we are all around you. everywhere. existing in real time. we are not fossils. we are not extinct.

you don't have the pleasure of ignoring us anymore. intersex rights are human rights, and sometimes, they're queer rights, too.

[gloamses]

you know, there are plenty of kids getting dental veneers. I’m trying to look up studies on the regret rate of dental veneers, for anybody, whether adults or minors, and if they exist it’s impossible to find them because the marketing around cosmetic dentistry is so aggressive. they may not exist at all, idk. but there are huge numbers of anecdotal accounts of people experiencing terrible regret over veneers. are there studies on this? veneers are permanent. I mean, not exactly, you pay thousands to get them and then they wear down in 10-15 years whereupon you have to pay thousands to replace them again. but you can’t un-get veneers. you can’t undo filing your teeth down to get them put in. things going wrong with your teeth is a quality of life disaster, vastly under-acknowledged in healthcare and especially US healthcare, so if you regret your veneers and you’re stuck with them, you could be really miserable. yet, again, the marketing is aggressive and I know people who have had dentists recommend they get veneers for things like minor staining. weirdly no widespread moral panic or attempts at legislation over this

[nanaslutt]

Distractions (zayne x reader)

ʚ cont: fem reader, teasing, nipple play, dry humping, dirty talk, no acc smut but lots of tension and grinding heh

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Thinking about sitting on Zayne's lap while he tells you about his day, his hands relaxed on your thighs, strong thumbs rubbing soothing circles on against your. Your hands are lazily hanging behind his shoulders, arms stretched out on his neck. And you're trying so hard to listen to what he's saying, but he just had to opt out of wearing a shirt after his shower, the impressive muscles of his chest and abdomen on full display for you.

So you nod your head, picking up his words and mumbling out little, "mhmm"'s ever so often so he doesn't stop talking about the cardiac procedure he performed today. You draw your arms back, placing your hands on his shoulders, feeling the indents of his muscles along them, memorizing the feeling of his body subconsciously. 

Zayne hasn't caught on to your touches yet, so used to having your hands on him. He tips his head up a bit and lets his eyes wander to a painting hanging behind the TV as he retells his story, recalling how it all went down while trying to word it in a way that was understandable to non-prestigious, brilliant babies. 

You lick your bottom lip as you drag your hands lower now, slowly sliding down the slopes of his chest, running your soft fingers across his prominent collarbones. Zayne looked back to you now, a little more aware of your movements, but not enough to see through your distraction and pick up on how you were caressing him intentionally. You shifted your weight a bit, scooting up on his thighs as you let your eyes drop down to your hands which were getting even lower still.

Zayne's words came to a small, barely noticeable pause when you dragged them lower, over the top set of his abdominal muscles just under his pecs. The doctor knew about your love of physical touch, so he tried to refrain from calling you out as he continued speaking, clearing his throat before starting up again. 

Pulling back your hands from his body entirely, you let your eyes find his, which were once again looking behind you at the painting as he found his words. You smiled to yourself as you angled your hands a bit upward from where they last were, placing them on his chest directly, your palms covering his nipples. You let your hands drag ever so lightly down his chest, your fingers just beginning to touch his nipples when suddenly your movement was being restricted. Before you were pulled away, you swore you felt Zayne's body jerk under yours, a small gasp leaving his lips at the soft touch.

You stilled, your arms tensing as you peeked up to find Zayne looking down at you, his breathing a little more ragged as he held your wrists in his large hands. Not a hard grip, but tight enough that you wouldn't be able to wiggle out. "Continue with your story, doctor." You insisted, tilting your head to the side and giving him a small, innocent smile. 

Zayne looked down at his chest before he found your eyes once more. It was then that you noticed something you didn't before. "It seems like someone is a bit too distracted to listen to my story." He said quietly, his eyes looking more lidded and dazed than before. You rocked back a bit, finding that familiar hardness under your ass, making your own breathing pick up.

"Why did you ask about my day if you weren't even going to listen?" He whispered, keeping your hands restrained as he leaned forward, his face suddenly much closer to yours, making you hyperaware of his movements. You writhed again on top of him, a movement that make Zayne suck in a sharp breath through his teeth, followed by a shaky exhale. 

"If you were bored, you should've told me." He said again, placing your hands back against his chest, his hands still around your wrist. You gave his chest a squeeze, making little circles on his pecs with your fingers, using what little mobility you had. "I would've welcomed a more interesting series of events after my shower if talking was too boring for you," Zayne said, his heart pounding quickly against his ribs, shaking your hand that splayed over it.

"I wasn't bored. Your tits just looked a little lonely." You joked, biting your lip in a smile as you gave his chest a couple of squeezes. In an instant, you were on your back against the length of the couch, your legs forced around Zayne's hips as he pushed his pelvis flush with yours. Your hands were pinned down against the cushion next to your head, as you squeezed your hands together, looking up at him while heaving air into your lungs.

"They aren't, "tits" and I'm more observant than you think. Especially when it comes to you." Zayne said, emphasizing his words with a slow but firm push of his hips, pressing himself fully against where you wanted him the most. You sucked in a desperate breath, something between a gasp and a whine before he pulled back, releasing some of that friction between your legs that you were already starting to miss.

Zayne smiled before he leaned down close to you, his breath tickling your ear as he pressed his lips against the shell of it. "You wanted something more like this? Didnt you?" He teased, rolling his hips against you again. You were unable to fight back the whine that left your lips as he repeated the same movement a few more times, his hands tightening against your wrist as he listened to the sounds that left your throat, making his brain feel like mush.

"Tell me what you really want, and I might just give it to you," he whispered again, this time biting the shell of your ear after his words left him, making you whine and squeeze your legs around him. Zayne groaned into your ear, his hips stuttering as you forced him to press against you tighter. "Zayne... I want you." You whispered, feeling blood rush to your face. Zayne rolled his hips harder as if praising you for speaking up, but it wasn't enough. 

Swallowing your pride you bit your lip before you leaned your head up and licked a stripe up his neck, ending in a kiss. Zayne's mouth opened as a shaky gasp left his lips. "Fuck me, doctor, please. I need it." You whispered, kissing a trail down his neck. Zayne sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and breathed heavily through his nose, feeling his cock twitch against you before you pulled back, leaning your head back against the couch.

"So you can tell me what you want?" Zayne responded, releasing your hands before he sat up, sliding his hands under your shirt. You let him pull your top off, your tits already falling out of your bra from how he had jostled your around. You looked like a hot mess already as you lay breathing heavily under him, your legs wrapped around his waist. Zayne reached a single hand forward and found your nipple that had spilled from your shirt. 

He pressed against it first before he started rubbing the bud in circles, feeling it harden under his hand. "Good girl." He praised, pinching the sensitive bud and making you squeeze your eyes shut. "Thats it. I'll take care of you. Such a good girl."

[dark-moonlust]

Lust Beneath the Waves PART 3

Pairing: Kraken x f!mermaid reader

Summary: the time comes for you to lay the Kraken’s eggs.

Warnings: MINORS DON’T INTERACT, 18+!!!, explicit tentacle smut, inaccurate egg preg and birthing procedure, slightly non con at some point, exhibitionism, nipple suckers, Kraken has two 🍆, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

This is the full one-shot. It was posted first on Patreon as my patrons get early access Happy reading!!

Find PART 2 here.

The sea was calm, all kinds of ocean creatures swimming around you, a little hesitant of the Kraken monster beside you. Still, they watched from the distance, curious and interested in both of you. Your Kraken mate had ensured everyone knew you were his mate and swollen with his spawn. You were the most famous couple underwater. Kraken took great pleasure at the rumors, relentlessly pleasuring you with his cocks, letting all the sea witness your love and compatibility.

Thanks to those frequent public claimings, the ocean creatures weren’t so afraid of him anymore. True, the Kraken still instilled fear but they also saw him in a new light since he was so tender and passionate toward his mermaid mate.

Suppressing your tired groans, you swam beside your mate, kicking your legs and moving your arms. Despite being filled to the brim with his eggs, you were eager to get some exercise. The last stages of your pregnancy left you feeling clumsy and ungainly and you couldn’t stand not doing anything. The Kraken’s tentacles were all around your body, a reminder that in case you got tired, he was there for you. But each gentle stroke of his tentacles made your belly tighten in arousal, your pussy, too.

Desire hit you, fast and hard and all thoughts of exercising took a different turn.

Floating closer to his massive floating body, you sought the warmth of his embrace. The Kraken sensed your shift in mood, his slimy tendrils coiling around your smaller frame, roaming over your body and caressing your egg bump. His tentacles became more insistent, circling your plump breasts, latching their suckers on your sensitive leaking nipples. You moaned softly, legs opening on their own volition. The tentacles snaked around your thighs, keeping them open as he pulled you against him.

“Kraken, please,” you said, your voice filled with longing.

“Do you need me, little mate?” he drawled, his two cock-like appendages tracing the curve of your bum. “Need me in your soaked pussy and tight little ass?”

You nodded, wiggling your waist to get some more friction. “Need you so much.”

A low rumble and his cock lined up with your holes. One thick cock brushed against the folds of your pussy while the other prodded the tight bud of your ass. You clutched his huge face as best as you could, moaning in anticipation. He rubbed his lubricated cockheads over your holes and pressed inside with a slow but deep thrust. The cocks filled you to the hilt, the dual penetration making you see stars.

“Oh… yes, right there…” you breathed heavily.

He stayed inside you, waiting for you to adjust to the stretch and depth. Face scrunched up in pleasure, you writhed in his embrace, rocking against the throbbing dicks inside you. A low chuckle escaped him as he started fucking you whole latching his suckers onto your breasts, their grip intensifying as they found your nipples, drawing out your milk.

“Mhn—more,” you demanded loudly.

The Kraken obliged all too willingly, lifting your pregnant form up and down on his monstrous cocks. His tentacles were all around you, caressing your belly and every other tender spot of yours. He increased the rhythm, each thrust making your full breasts bounce. You clung to him, whispering little love words, your fingers digging into his thick skin.

You were so close, so close—

A sudden, sharp pain cancelled the rush of pleasure.

You gasped painfully and your mate immediately stilled inside you.

“Did I hurt you, little one?” His eyes met yours with worry.

“Agn—you didn’t,” you gasped, contractions rippling through your stomach. “I think… I think the eggs are coming.”

With a deep grunt, he resumed fucking inside you, his cocks laved in your arousal as he pumped in and out of your holes. You cried out, uncomfortable and anxious. You tried to push him away but his firm grip held you immobile. It was strange and scary because despite the fear of the coming labor, your body seemed willing to succumb to your carnal desires.

“St—stop!” you whimpered, pain and pleasure coursing through you.

Yet he kept going, and you had no choice but to accept him inside your depths, pushing back against the cocks in your pussy and ass.

“Trust me, little one. We must finish this first,” he said, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

“Can’t!” you whined as his tentacles fondled and pressed your swollen belly.

“You will trust me mate. I shall help you with the birth of our eggs,” he said but this time his voice was strict, demanding your obedience.

Biting down your whimpers, you decided to trust him. The Kraken doubled his thrusts, his cocks delving deep inside you, spurting a cold liquid that had your toes curling in the air. This wasn’t his release, this was different. You clung to him as you were filled to bursting, the cool liquid coating your insides.

“What’s… what’s that?” you managed to ask.

“It’s my birthing liquid, it will help you lay the eggs.”

“It’s too much!”

“You can bear it, little mate. A little more.”

It wasn’t a little more. More like gallons more.

You thrashed and tried to evade him but his tentacles secured you to him strongly as he pumped and pumped that vicious liquid inside you. You were overcome with worry and anxiety. This was your first birth and your mate was fucking a strange substance into you.

“Shh… calm your thoughts,” he said just in time. “I am here. I shall help you through this.”

“I’m so scared. What do I have to do?”

“Once I fill you up, I need you to cum hard and good around my cocks.”

“Hnn… can’t… feels so strange…” you groaned as the contractions grew stronger, but surprisingly, so did the pleasure.

Tentacles fondled your swollen belly as his cocks slammed in and out of your holes in a rapid pace. Your belly had rounded even more with the liquid inside you and you cried out, sobbing breathlessly as you were attacked by pleasure and pain. His suckers nursed your nipples aggressively, the sensations overwhelming, especially when the tip of one tentacle started flicking your clit.

“Cum for me, my love,” he drawled, his eyes fixed on you with need. “Let me feel your pretty holes clenching around me.”

Bliss flew through you and even if you didn’t want to, you trembled in a blindsiding orgasm, your walls clenching and unclenching around the cocks pounding your depths. Your vision faded for a few moments, especially when your mate followed moments later, releasing with a defeating roar. He thrust both cocks to the hilt inside you and bathed your insides in his seed. It was so much, you couldn’t take it all and most of it overflowed your poor holes.

“Mnhhh!” you convulsed, breathing steadily despite the tentacles fucking your holes.

“That’s it, good mate,” he rasped in your mind. “Take it all.”

He continued to fuck you, prolonging your orgasm until you were trembling and spent. Your moans reverberated through the waters.

Rumors had already spread like wildfire; the Kraken’s mermaid was about to lay his eggs and all kinds of creatures had gathered to witness the special moment.

Unbothered by those watching you, your mate slowly pulled out, his appendages withdrawing from your body with wet squelching sounds. The moment his cocks left you, the contractions returned with full force.

“The eggs are moving!” you cried out as the eggs shifted inside you. It wasn’t so painful, more like incredibly uncomfortable since you were filled in both holes.

“Yes, you are about to birth our offspring, my mate,” he drawled lovingly. “I want you to push, my love. Push our offspring out of your cunt and ass. I’ve got you.”

The Kraken positioned you on all fours before him, his powerful appendages restricting your body with ease. He then arranged his tentacles to open your holes to ease the descend of the eggs. Two tentacles gently parted the folds of your cunt, while another two spread the rim of your ass, exposing your fluttering rosebud to any onlooker. The liquid he had filled you with had worked its magic and was helping the eggs exit your body. The eggs were visible, stretching the rims of each hole as they prepared to emerge.

“Yes”, the Kraken said. “I can see the eggs. Push, mate. Push!”

Clenching your muscles, you pushed with all your might, feeling the heaviness and pressure of the eggs. Your mate helped, slipping his tentacles inside your holes and clutching each egg and helping them exit. The stretch was immense, but one by one, the eggs popped from your holes along with the liquid he’d pumped inside you. The Kraken hugged each egg in his slimes, keeping them warm and safe.

“Good job. I’m so proud of you, mate,” the Kraken said, his tentacles wiping away the tears from your eyes. “You’re doing so well. Just a little more, my love.”

You only hummed, distracted by the pressure of each egg. So far you’d expelled three eggs from each hole. Your ass and pussy felt impossibly full and stretched, each contraction bringing waves of pain and relief. It didn’t help that his suckers kept suckling your tender nipples and the rest of his tentacles prodded your belly, guiding the eggs down.

Finally, the last batch of eggs made their descend, your holes dribbling with Kraken cum and his birthing liquid. The Kraken caught each egg, his tentacles protecting their tender shells. Relieved and panting, you collapsed against your mate, utterly exhausted. You could barely hear the cheers of the onlookers at the birth of the Kraken’s offspring. Your mate ignored them too, his focus solely on you. He floated away, his tentacles enveloping you in a gentle embrace while his suckers remained at your oversensitive nipples, absorbing your milk.

“M… mate, it’s too much,” you muttered as the suckers swallowed down your milk.

���I need to keep suckling your pretty buds. I’m absorbing your milk and transferring it to our eggs,” he explained. “Bear it for me, little mate. It is the only source of nutrition for our eggs.”

“Very well…” you trailed off, the health of the eggs mattering more than anything for you.

“Are you feeling alright, little one? Your pussy and asshole?”

“I feel a little sore,” you admitted shyly. The birth had been intense but not as painful or horrible as you’d envisioned. You were thankful to your mate and his constant presence. You couldn’t have done it without him.

“Allow me. I’ll make it all better,” he said, moving you so you were straddling his huge body. Two small tentacles wiggled inside your cunt and ass, causing you to wince. Then you sighed, feeling the sweet warmth of his magic healing you. In a few seconds, you were filled with tingling warmth, feeling healthier than you’d ever been.

“Thank you,” you said softly, all the pain and discomfort melting away. “Can I see our eggs?”

“There they are,” he said proudly as he presented them to you. The eggs were small, incredibly small, just the size of your palms with iridescent shells. Your mate cradled them protectively, his tentacles forming little cots.

“They’re so tiny and cute!” you said, your heart filled with joy. You could see the little wiggling babies through the transparent shells and couldn’t wait for the eggs to hatch. “When will they hatch?”

“In a few days,” he answered. “Once they’ve had enough of your milk.”

“Hmm… so your suckers will be permanently latched to my nipples?” you asked, your body tingling all over.

“I’m afraid so, my love.“

You grinned. “Not than you needed much reason to fondle my breasts.”

“I can’t deny that I love your tits just as any other part of you, my little mermaid,” he whispered, pride and possessiveness in his voice. “You have made me so proud. Our offspring are safe and you are stronger and more magnificent than ever.”

“Thank you, my love,” you said just as lovingly. “I can’t wait to meet our little ones.”

“Soon, we shall meet them soon. Rest now, my mate,” he whispered. “I will take us home."

Did you enjoy? If yes, show some love any way you can. It would make me smile so big 🖤

[gwaindrifter]

fuck

[jamminvroomvroom]

ruined.

LN x fem!reader - 4k celebration

based on this request!

in which, why wouldn’t they fall in love?

back with another celebration request! thank u anon, love this one sm! so tempted to make something longer form outta this one omg... lemme know what you think of this, hugs hugs hugs

i had to reupload this! sorry if you already interacted :(

songs to set the mood: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas, you are in love by taylor swift, sofia by clairo, till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas

warnings: 18+!! minors go away dni!! smut, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, voyeurism? kinda? friends to lovers, mutual pining

3.4k words

“i bring gifts!” you call out, throwing the keys on the side. you shuffle your feet against the doormat, awkwardly balancing the bottle of wine you hold in one hand and the box of pizza in the other. it doesn’t help that you feel like the michelin man, bundled up in a jacket and a scarf. you kick off your boots, leaving them haphazardly in the hallway.

“in the kitchen.” lando shouts back, and you trudge towards the sound of his voice, sliding around in your fluffy socks.

“i hate all of those stupid little cars that everyone in monaco seems to drive.” you tut, sliding the pizza box across the counter, the bottle of wine clinking against the granite.

“even my jolly?” lando pouts. he’s waiting with two wine glasses, even though you’ll drink most of the merlot while he scrunches his nose up in distaste, but this is routine, standard procedure.

“i do miss the jolly, to be fair.” you give him that much, grinning playfully.

five minutes later, your coat and scarf are long forgotten, slung over one of the high chairs that line his breakfast bar. you’re in the living room, sprawled on one end of the couch, him on the other. your feet rest in his lap and the pizza box rests across your knees. some series you’ve been trying to watch for weeks is playing on netflix, but you aren’t really paying much attention.

“so, you’re telling me,” you pause to take another bite of pizza, swallowing between giggles, “you’re telling me that you heard oscar through the wall?” you choke.

“yeah, i’m telling you! little oscar is definitely not… little, from what i heard.” he cackles. “and then afterwards, bless them, they were all dishevelled and he would not make eye contact with me.” lando explains, both of you a mess of giggles.

“oscar piastri, what a minx.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“as if that’s what i needed, by the way! the dry spell was not helped by whatever him and lily were getting at.”

“dry spell? you? don’t lie to me, norris.” you kick him gently.

“what? i’m serious! start of the season has been so busy, haven’t had time to… get busy.” he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“welcome to my world, you prick.” you tease, kicking him again. you catch his ribs as you do, knowing full well you’ve hit the prime tickle spot.

“what’s your excuse?”

“excuse you, i’m a busy gal! we can’t all be famous jet-setting f1 drivers.” you feign offence, and he grins toothily.

“i meant,” he starts, speaking slowly as if you’re stupid, and for a third time, you kick him, a tad harder than the last two times. “you’re a catch, how are you not getting laid?”

you pray he can’t see the way you’ve gone pink.

truthfully, he’s the damn reason. how can any man live up to the one and only lando norris? how can anyone compare to your best friend? world famous, beautiful, down right hilarious, beautiful!

lando’s the guy that picks up the pieces every time some loser breaks your heart. he’s the guy who’s key you keep on your overflowing keychain, the guy who buys duplicates of the skincare products you use, so you can keep them at his place - you still laugh every time you remember the first time he tried to pronounce salicylic acid. he’s basically your guy, but after 10 years of friendship, you’re not willing to tell him that.

“just… not.” you shrug, tucking your hair behind your ear. he hums in response, sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but he drops it.

you sink three glasses of red, the pizza box is on the floor, and your eyes are drooping, heavy.

“bedtime for you, methinks.” lando whispers, gently shifting your feet from his lap. you frown, missing his touch already. you make grabby hands at him, too comfy to move on your own. “want me to carry you?” you nod lazily, a smile stretching across your face.

he slides one hand under your legs, the other under your back, and hoists you up. he holds you close to his chest, your head resting against his heart, so close that you can hear the soft thrum that keeps him warm.

“thank you.” you murmur as he places you softly on your- his guest bed.

“anytime, honey.” he smiles down at you. he thinks you’re so pretty like this, so sleepy and cosy. he fights the demons that tell him to crawl into the empty space beside you. “there’s some water here, sleep well, love.” he walks away, reaching the door when:

“love you.” you coo. he shivers. you always say it, and he always says it back, but lately, it pains him.

“yeah. love you too.”

lando pulls the door to quietly, leaning against the wood for a moment trying to compose himself.

-

it’s been an hour, and you’re sobered up, wide awake in the dark.

you try to fall asleep, really, you do, but your mind is moving a thousands miles an hour, and all you can think about is his dry spell. your dry spell.

how can you sleep when you know he’s on the other side of the wall, as needy as you are for a warm body. you also know that you’ve soaked through your underwear. you’re wildly uncomfortable, restless, desperate for a sweet release, whether that be of sleep, or something else.

you can’t ask him, it would be a step too far, despite how torturously close you already are. so instead, you drive yourself insane with the thought of him; the image of him, head thrown back, slick and sweaty, cock hard in his hand.

what’s the harm in helping yourself out?

you’re throbbing, hot all over. you lose the war with yourself and your hand trails shamelessly down your body. you’re so sensitive that you’re instantly stifling moans, hand slapped over your mouth. you can’t get the earlier image out of your head, and you pray he’s on the other side of the wall thinking about you. you’re desperate, bucking your hips into your hand, aching for a release. you wish your hands were lando’s, big and rough, toying with every quivering part of you.

you have an idea, a twisted one, the kind that almost sends you over the edge. what would happen if you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, if you tore your hand away and cried out like you wanted to? every shred of rationality leaves your needy body.

you’re whining, clear as day. your resist calling out his name as your high builds, tweaking your clit between your fingers. you’re so dangerously close, hovering right on the edge. that’s when you hear it.

on the other side of the wall, your vision of lando has become a reality. your faint whines through the wall have him rock hard, fucking his own hand. he wishes it could be yours, and with the way you’re crying out, he doesn’t think you’d oblige to sitting on his lap, wet and pretty, and letting him sink his cock nice and deep.

but he can’t cross that line. not with you. it doesn’t matter how badly he wants you, how he’d go to the ends of the earth for you. one night wasn’t worth ten years of friendship, washed down the drain.

his hand speeds up, his head thrown back, at the same time as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. you fingers curl, hitting deep when you hear a throaty groan sounding from the other side of the wall.

you’d think a millionaire would have thicker walls.

he hears the exact moment you cum, a noticeable change in your sounds. they’ve gone up an octave, breathless, and before he can even register, he’s spurting thick white ribbons that land hotly on his skin.

you clean yourselves up, rooms apart but the same exact things running through your minds.

i just got off to the sound of my best friend.

-

you nibble the crusts of your toast. the kitchen is quiet, painfully so, and the air is still.

lando has his back to you, making you another cup of coffee. he’s forgone a shirt and you try your absolute best to ignore the warm glow of his skin. he looks radiant. you know why; orgasms can do that.

“lando-“

“we don’t need to talk about it, honey.”

“um, i was just gonna tell you that you’re burning your toast.” you snicker.

“oh, fuck.” he slides along the floor to the toaster, burning his fingers on blackened bread.

when he turns to you, he’s tinged red, grinning bashfully.

“moving on.”

“i need to get home but dinner later? i won’t stay the night.” you wink. you crave the normalcy that once was, the light, teasing nature of your friendship.

“i’ll cook.” he’s still blushing.

“ooh, on second thought.” you suck air through your teeth, pulling a face.

“get outta here.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

-

dinner was… well, it was edible.

he made spaghetti and some kind of sauce, one that you couldn’t quite work out the contents of but it was good enough.

“thanks, lan.” you smile softly, helping him clear the few plates off the table.

“anytime, honey.” he replies.

you’re standing at the sink, placing the cutlery down when you feel him behind you. you spin around, instantly regretting it, because you’re caged in. he’s leaning up to reach into a cupboard, frozen. so, so close. his panicked breath fans your face and you can feel the heat of his body.

you lean in, because why wouldn’t you? and so does he, so, so close. your hand that rests on the edge of the sinks moves so that you can reach out and cup his disgustingly perfect face but then-

a knife that had been hovering between the counter and plunging into the soapy hot water gets nudged over the edge by your clumsy hand and clatters against into the bowl.

the irritating noise springs you both back to reality and he jumps away like an orange cat. you grimace at the awkward tension, and he scratches the back of his neck. and then you’re laughing, hard, and of course he joins in because this situation is utterly ridiculous and your laugh is so beautifully contagious.

“oh my god, what is wrong with us?” you wheeze through the laughter, leaning back against the counter.

“last night was… insane. and now everything feels weird so, let’s just go back to basics.” lando smiles gracefully. you nod.

“that sounds absolutely perfect.”

“netflix?”

“and chill?” you chime in sarcastically. he glares at you. “couldn’t help it.” you hold your hands up in faux surrender.

-

you don’t know when you fall asleep, but you conk out, head lulling against his shoulder when you do.

he haunts your dreams, fingers thick between your thighs while you whimper his name. you must be out of it, so deep in your slumber that it takes lando a good few coos of your name to draw you out of it.

when your eyes shoot open, he’s looking down at you, a single curl falling over his forehead, taunting you.

“you dreaming of me?” he grins, something in his eyes that snaps you out of your grogginess.

“wh-why?” you splutter, sitting up. he’s still so close to you, coy smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips,

“kept making these little sounds, panting my name. got me thinking.”

“about what?” you whisper.

“how much i wanted to pin you to that bed last night and make you cry for me.”

“is this gonna ruin us?” your voice trembles with a unique blend of fear and anticipation.

“after last night? baby, we’re already ruined.”

his lips meet yours, tentative for just a brief second, and then it’s passionate, warm, lightning. his hands are firm on your body, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s no other option but to clamber into his lap. your hands find his hair, tugging wildly until his curls are a disheveled mess, pulled every which way.

“you’re so beautiful. want to tell you all the time but-“ lando mumbles into your mouth, urgent and hushed.

“but friends don’t do that.” you cut him off.

he pulls away from you, his nose bumping yours. his eyes are so blue today, sparkly.

“i think we’re more than that.” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “i think we have been for a while.”

“yeah.” you pant. “yeah we have. yeah.” your eyes dart between his and his kiss swollen lips.

and then you’re licking into his mouth, sighing at the relief. he paws at your waist, warm hands sliding under your jumper, gliding over your hips and up, up, up, until he’s dragging the material over you head and tossing it carelessly to the side. he kisses over your collarbone, licking and nipping while his hands smooth over your bra. he plucks at the fasten, and you relax as it snaps open, and the straps slide over your shoulders.

“is this okay, angel?” he whispers.

“perfect.”

his thumbs trace over the curve of your breasts, teasing your nipples gently, enough to send shockwaves through your body. you’re subconsciously grinding down on him, dragging your hips over his crotch, mouth dropping open when you hear the way his breath catches in his throat.

“driving me insane, honey.” he gulps, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “need to get inside of you.”

“hurry up then.” you sound desperate to your ears, delicious to his.

“do you know how hard it was to stay in my room last night? when i could hear you making those pretty little noises? you’re so bad.” he tuts, lifting you off of his lap and laying you back against the couch.

nimble fingers undo your jeans and you jolt as he slides them down your thighs, intimate touches on intimate skin. you lace your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, and you moan into his open mouth when his fingers trail beneath your underwear.

lando dips his fingers between your folds, groaning as soon as he feels where your wetness has pooled in your panties. you’re intoxicating, he thinks, and he’s starving for you. he pries his hand from between your legs, lapping at his soaked digits. his eyes fall shut, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks.

your taste sparks something within him, and he wriggles onto his belly, resting in between your thighs. he toys with your panties, just for a second, and he can’t help but latch on. he laves his tongue over the growing wet patch, eyes fluttering shut. he drags your underwear to the side, lapping over your cunt messily.

“taste so good.” he slurs into your pussy, depraved and ravenous. you buck your hips, the sensation of his words sending rumbles of vibrations to every one of your nerve endings.

you writhe against the plush couch, sinking deeper between the cushions as he fucks his tongue deeper and deeper, burrowing his face as far between your thighs as he can go.

“lando, ‘m so close.” you gasp, tugging hard at his curls, taking your nails across his scalp. he whimpers, whimpers, at the sensation and that’s enough to finish you off.

he keeps going, kitten licking you through your orgasm and you pant, nothing but white behind your squeezed shut eyes. you have you drag him away, overstimulated and twitching against the silvery grey fabric of the sofa.

“fuck.” you laugh, breathless.

“good?” he smirks.

“shut up and come here.” you make grabby hands at him, and he clambers over you, smiling wide, his lips coated shiny and red.

“you’re pretty.” he coos, licking his lips clean.

“so are you.” you whisper.

he collapses on top of you, urgently slotting his lips over yours. he slides his hands all over your frame, memorising every dip and curve, while your hands find the waistband of his joggers. you push the material down his hips gently tracing his hip bone; he shudders at the graze, kicking the fabric away and wrapping his hand around his cock.

you glance down, taking in the sight before you. he’s thick in his own hand, red and slick already, as he runs his hand over himself.

“you want me?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.

“please.” you whine, reaching to replace his hand, but he bats you away.

“patience, baby. wanted you like this for so long, you can wait a few seconds.” he scolds, condescendingly.

you don’t get a chance to talk back, because he’s sliding inside of you, nice and slow. your eyes roll back at the delectable stretch, he’s bigger than you’ve had in a while, and you hum lowly. he kisses over your throat and you can hear his shaky breath fanning your ear. you’re fluttering around him, adjusting to him with small circles of your hips.

“do something.” you beg, hushed and breathless.

“you think you can take it?” lando taunts, but you can hear the way his voice waivers as your walls spasm around him.

“can you?” you whisper, giving as good as you get. something inside of him snaps and pride kicks in, because before you can even truly gloat, he’s barrelling into you.

you cling onto his shoulders greedily, digging your fingertips in to whatever part of him you can get hold of. he thrusts so deep, all the way in, before dragging fully out, leaving you aching for him to fill you up again. he’s going quick enough that you can’t really complain, but slow enough to tease, to drive you insane beneath him. it feels too good to hurry him up, he knows what he’s doing and you want to take it, feel him like this. you’re quivering, his cock hitting every single spot that makes you tick and you think you can die happy now that you’ve had him.

“i’m so close.” you warn, overstimulated from your first orgasm. he ups his pace, just enough to send you spiralling, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you let go, your legs kicking out.

it’s too much when you open your eyes and find him staring down at you, sleepy and sweaty. he’s gorgeous like this, pupils blown, bronze skin glistening in the low light. he feels the way you throb around him, still buried so deep.

“not done with you yet, angel. c’mere.” lando sits back, pulling your limp body along with him until your right back where you started, sprawled over his lap.

he’s so close to his own release, pained and restless, and you can feel the head rubbing against your clit. even in your state of pure exhaustion, you can’t help but grind down against him, and he lifts your hips enough for you to sink down on him.

your sounds of pleasure ricochet off of one another’s, animalistic contentment spilling from between two sets of equally swollen lips. you’re so full like this, rocking tiredly, backwards and forwards.

“just like that, baby. just like that.” he’s breathing heavily, brows furrowed. his head tips back, neck thick and flexed, and you’re thrown back into the deep end of your fantasy.

“oh my god.” you choke, tears of satisfaction building. “lando!” you cry, meeting his shallow thrusts. he’s guiding your hips up and down, just enough to hammer against that special spot that makes you whine his name.

“cum for me, baby, last one. know you can do it pretty girl.” the praise knocks the last bits of air out of you and you collapse forwards into his arms. he holds you tight, groaning sweet nothings and your name like a prayer, right in your ear.

“you’re definitely staying tonight.” lando laughs softly, coming down. you think back to your earlier refusal, grinning lazily.

“guest room?” you joke, kissing his shoulder.

he pulls you back so that he can look at you, cupping your face.

“you’re never staying in that room ever again.”

he kisses you, then. soft. warm. home.

it’s natural, everything you’ve been missing, and somehow the only thing you’ve been missing in your relationship with him. he already gave you everything you could ever need, tonight was the cherry on top.

“are we gonna be okay?” you whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. fear pools in your belly.

“i hope so. ‘cause i’m never letting you go now.”

-

i feel so warm inside hehe

-

taglist

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lemme know if you wanna be added or removed :)

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 + 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

characters: vox, val, alastor, lucifer warnings: implied smut in some; 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink (+ papi for val), toxic relationships, pet/master dynamic (for alastor), reader is a bit of a brat with vox, implied drugging the night before (val), praise + pet names, fem!reader, reader is carried in val’s words: 2.7k

₊˚⊹ 𝐯𝐨𝐱 ⊹˚₊

You love mornings with your Daddy—truly, you do; love waking up next to him, slow and soft as his fingertips outline your features; love eating breakfast with him, feet kicking back and forth on one of the barstools as he prepares something simple for the two of you, know that he had to pull teeth to get the mornings off of work so he could spend them with you, getting you ready for the day and seeing you off—but there is one part, right at the very end, that you absolutely despise. 

Like everything with Vox, dental hygiene is a meticulous procedure, a rigorous routine with a set of immutable steps to be followed in the exact order Vox has laid them out in—carved into concrete, set in stone.

And, like everything else with Vox, no one knows how to perform them correctly except for him.

Still, it isn’t like you ever make it easy for him.

What else could he expect from his little troublemaker, really?

“Open up.” 

A thumb and a forefinger clamp down on the hinges of your jaw, palm wreathed around your chin, and squeeze, popping your mouth open with practiced efficiency.

“Daddy,” the word comes out as a stringy whine, slightly garbled, face crumpling in petulance. “Dun wanna.” 

Jerking a little in his grasp, you try to pull away from the advancing toothbrush slathered with translucent teal gel, and Vox clicks his tongue. 

“And I don’t care,” he says simply, fingers flexing in warning. “Good little girls need to brush their teeth—especially if they’ve eaten two bowls of sugary cereal for breakfast.” 

“But—”

Vox pulls back, face flattened into something serious. “Do you want cavities eating holes in your teeth?” 

“No—”

“Didn’t think so. Now hold still and let Daddy do this for you, yeah?” 

A groan vibrates on the back of your tongue, but your body goes pliant in his grasp, chin leaning into his pillowy palm.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs to himself, a small smug smile on his face.

Warmth blossoms in your chest, swells your lungs and stretches your ribs as you droop a little more beneath his praise and he chuckles, a fond little melody playing on his tongue, grip tightening infinitesimally. 

And he’s so precise with it all, maneuvers painstakingly perfect as he tilts your head one way, then the other, sure to scrub each tooth thoroughly, bristles scouring in little circular motions as he cleanses.

“Aaaah,” he hums, mimicking the action as he pries his mouth open wider, another praise falling from his lips as you instantly obey, allowing him to reach the molars at the very back of your mouth—brushing on top, on either side, behind, then on top again. 

“Tongue out.” 

Another whine sticks in your throat, brows pushing together and crinkling your forehead, open mouth downturned in a frown with a slight shake of your head, struggling against his hold.

“Come, now,” Vox chastises, but his voice is hard, fortified with a subtle threat. “You were doing so well for me—don’t start acting up, Daddy’s almost done.” 

His gaze holds yours steadily, a single eyebrow raising in question—are you really going to test me?—and you cave, again.

Reluctantly, your tongue unfurls from your mouth, face still scrunched in irritation as he scrapes the bristles across the muscle, working up a healthy lather, refusing to cease until that telltale disgruntled whine claws at your throat, evoking another one of those patronizing little chuckles.

“Alright, alright,” he’s pacifying as he tips a glass to your lips, a palm cupped protectively beneath your chin. “Rinse.” 

And, Christ, he loves how fucking obedient you are, even as the urge to misbehave bubbles behind your ribs, lips set in a deep pout as you follow his instructions, swishing a mouthful of water between your cheeks, waiting perfect and patient for his next order. 

“Spit.”

Oh, so compliant, so disciplined you are as you instantly spew blue liquid down the drain, a fierce sense of pride, of ownership, igniting deep within his soul, blazing bright and hot and strong, reflected in the amplified glowing of his eyes.

Your features are still scrunched up in a cute little pout, glaring at him through your lashes, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” A thumb runs along your forehead, attempting to iron out the crease between your brows in a gentle caress.

“It was awful.” 

“Fucking brat.” 

And he just can’t help but laugh out the word, the sting the insult should bring instantly negated by the tender affection it’s smothered in, turned soft and melty on his tongue.

No, you never make such endeavours painless for him, but you do always make them interesting, and for that, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

₊˚⊹ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐨 ⊹˚₊

It’s late in the afternoon when Val decides it’s time to get up, deep crimson light spilling through the narrow gaps in his thick curtains and painting thin, long strokes across the shag carpet.

He doesn’t bother formally waking you as two of his hands scoop you from the nest of silk and cradle you to his body, chuckling out a coo as you automatically snuggle into his chest, legs latching around his waist. 

The haze of sleep still hangs heavy in your skull, a soft protest grumbled into his skin as he carries you somewhere, lids staying firmly glued shut, body beginning to melt into his again as the bliss of unconsciousness entices you with promises of whimsical dreams and relief from your aching muscles. 

Cold marble stings your bare thighs suddenly, forcing a small jolt through your form, a soft hiss exhaled from between your teeth.

“I know, I know, it’s cold,” Val pacifies, his voice a pleasant fog curling around your cheeks as he leans around you, tinkering with something.  

“Papi,” you whimper, reaching blindly for him, lethargic head falling forward, forehead pressed tightly to his sternum.

“Mmm, I’m here,” he murmurs distractedly, two of his hands still wrapped firmly around your hips as the other set busy themselves with uncapping a tube of toothpaste.

“Wanna go back to bed,” you slur out in a whine, nose nuzzling into his chest, fruitlessly looking for a place to rest your head, dense drowsiness curling the edges of your mind.

“But it’s time to get up, princesa,” he chides gently, a finger tracing the curve of your cheek. “You’ve been asleep for fourteen hours.” 

“M’still tired.” 

A hum of contemplation vibrates at the back of his tongue as a hand twines around your jaw, examining your face this way, then that, before tilting your chin up.

“Maybe I gave you a little too much last night,” he muses to himself through a dark snicker. “It’s kinda cute that you’re still this fucked up, though. Can’t even open your eyes for me, can you?” 

And you try, really, you do, attempting to heft your leaden lids, features screwing up cutely with the immense effort, and Val coos again, as if your intoxication is so pathetically precious—poor little girl can barely handle her Daddy’s drugs! How sweet.

“Well, that’s okay,” he purrs, first pair of hands slipping further beneath his dress shirt—a makeshift nightgown, his favourite nightgown on you—and tugging you closer to the counter’s edge. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything; Papi will do it for you.” 

A sound of indignation sticks in your throat as you finally pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light of the bathroom, bleary gaze fixed on the sparkly pink toothbrush in one of his hands, face rumpling into a pout. 

Your lips press into a tight, firm line, sealing your mouth against the rapidly advancing utensil as your eyes slip shut again, weighted with narcotic-laced exhaustion, head shaking in messy little motions.

“C’mon, be co-operative,” the points of his nails dig into your skin, hard enough to leave superficial indents—a warning. “Don’t upset Daddy this early in the day, baby.” 

Wrenching your eyes open again, your nose twitches with a sniffle, chin beginning to quiver.

“But—But—Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to,” he says, but his voice trembles with the effort to stay calm, to stay pleasant. “Your mouth is very dirty from last night, and it needs to be cleaned.”

A thick torrent of tears rush to cloud your vision, sudden and stinging, a hiccup stuttering your chest. The hand curved around your jaw tightens, yanking your face toward his own, foreheads knocking together.

“Now, open, before I make you open.”

Your jaw falls slack, a slave to his orders, unable to disobey a direct demand from its owner, and Val purrs, something wicked unravelling on his face, smile stretched sharp and sleazy from edge to edge, the glow in his eyes flaring with your instant compliance.

“Good girl.”

₊˚⊹ 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ⊹˚₊

Alastor, you’ve come to learn, has a plethora of odd regimes; stringently scheduled customs that are non-negotiable, that extend to you, including brushing your teeth. 

It’s become routine, now—habitual, as most things with Alastor are—and your days no longer feel right without it; weird, off, incomplete. 

Because it’s become something of a comfort; something so simple, yet so intimate, something calming and rewarding, something to look forward to—a moment shared between the two of you, twice a day, once at the beginning, and once at the end. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you try tell him, the first time he insists on doing it, trying desperately to look over your shoulder as he ushers you into his ensuite.

“Nonsense!” he waves a hand in dismissal. “It isn’t a problem at all. Now, sit.” 

“Alastor—”

“Sit.” 

With a tiny frown, you perch gingerly on the edge of the bathtub, fingers curling around the rim.

“I’m serious,” you murmur, teeth nibbling superficially at the skin of your lip, wary eyes watching as he flits with practiced ease around the bathroom, a twinge of confusion settling in your chest, something akin to shame sitting thick and bitter on the back of your tongue. “I can do it myself…” 

“I know you can,” he replies simply, focused on depositing a strip of white toothpaste on your toothbrush. 

“Then…” you blink up at him, watching him advance with wide eyes, shoulders shrinking as he blankets you in his shadow. “Why are you doing it for me?” 

Irritation twitches at the edges of his grin, Alastor exhaling a controlled sigh.

“Because,” he begins, keeping his voice light, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb. “A good Master takes proper care of his pet.” 

His grip strengthens, tilting your face up further, his form looming over your own as you sit, vulnerable and exposed, beneath his touch. Crimson eyes glow as they scour your face, his back bent at an uncomfortable angle as he practically curls around you, the scent of earth and cedar tinged with copper wafting across your face with his calm, even breaths. 

“Besides,” he continues, voice dropped an octave lower, his nose nearly nudging yours. “I couldn’t possibly trust you to do it adequately.” 

A cruel little chuckle plays on his tongue, as if the mere thought itself is preposterous, the sound stinging as it seeps into your cheeks, hot and full of spikes. 

“Now, open.” 

Instantly, your mouth falls agape, and Alastor’s smile stretches infinitesimally wider, a sharp glint flaring in his eyes.

“A good owner maintains their pet’s hygiene,” he explains as he works, gaze fixed intently on his actions, cleansing with a meticulous sort of vigilance. “Bathes them, grooms them, dresses them—performs all of the basic necessities a pet needs to appear presentable.”

His hand shifts slightly, angling your head to the side, and you follow easily, malleable in his grasp, his smile shimmering. 

“And I pride myself on taking very good care the things that belong to me.”

And, really, he does. Because Alastor doesn’t just brush your teeth with rigorous care, conscientiously certain to cleanse every dip and gap; he flosses them, too, with gentle hands and painstaking precision, then ensures you’ve rinsed with germ-killing, enamel-strengthening mouthwash for exactly forty-five seconds, counting uniformly and observing with large, unblinking eyes as you adhere to his every instruction, cheeks bulging with burning liquid, eyes squinting from the intensity, but never daring to blink, to glance away, to stop at all. 

“Look at you,” he purrs after you’ve spit down the drain, gazing back up at him with a sort of desperate devotion—demented, devious, damned to his hell—syrupy condescension dripping from his teeth. “So well behaved for me, aren’t you?”  

A palm cups your jaw, his thumb running across your cheek in rhythmic strokes, the tip of his claw caressing your skin with just enough pressure to leave behind shallow scratches. 

“What, hoping Master will give you a treat for being so obedient?” 

“No, Sir,” you whimper out, voice gone dreamy as you nuzzle into his hand. “You taking such good care of me is more than enough.” 

Something sinister oozes into his face, something that contorts his smile and corrodes his eyes, leaving behind nothing but raw hunger, like he’s about to devour you whole, pops of static fizzing thickly in his voice. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

₊˚⊹ 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 ⊹˚₊

Everything hurts, muscles stiff and aching and full of sand, your motions clumsy and cumbersome as you attempt to brush your teeth, joints creaking with every slight shift.

Fatigue blurs the edges of your eyes, your vision fading out of focus again, mind gone fuzzy as you try your best to concentrate on your movements—up, down, all around, repeat—features screwing up in a wince as you catch the harsh bristles on your gums, again. 

“You’re making a bit of a mess, sleepyhead,” Lucifer’s tender chuckle pulls you from your foggy stupor, a quiet hum vibrating in your throat as you look over at him in question, the gesture lethargic and delayed. 

“You’ve got some—Here,” he says softly, hands curling around your shoulders and turning you to face him, then tilting your chin up. “May I?”

Another affirmative sounds on the back of your tongue and Lucifer uses his thumb to carefully clean the foaming paste collecting at the corners of your mouth, then catching a slow dribble streaming down your chin with a deft knuckle. 

A frown mars his face, his forehead creasing beneath the strain, his other hand stroking your shoulder as worried eyes search your face, slow and careful.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart?” he asks. “You’re really struggling to brush your teeth.”

“Jus—really tired,” you mumble through the bubbles in your mouth, Lucifer skillfully catching another trickle of watery paste, concern tugging at the corners of his lips, frown deepening.

“Do you want me to do it for you?” 

Sleepy eyes blink up at him, slow and sluggish, your hazy mind taking a moment to process the question.

“Mhmm,” you finally nod, hand loosening the instant his fingers skim yours, allowing him to gently uncurl your grip from around the base of your toothbrush, his own effortlessly taking its place. 

“Alright, alright, Daddy will help you,” he’s pacifying in a murmur, but his gaze has turned melty, glow dimmed and pupils gaping, lids heavy with love. “Poor thing…Last night was a long night for you, huh?” 

“S’a lot,” you confirm in a messy mumble, lids drooping heavily with the weight of exhaustion.

“Yeah?” his thumb rubs loving little circles into your jaw as he works, gaze trained on his task. “Was Daddy a little too rough with you?” 

The question is uttered out tenderly, full of sympathy and care, his brow furrowing as his eyes flit back to yours, searching for veracity in your pupils.

“Maybe I should be a bit gentler next—”

“No!” you cough around the refusal, puffy lids snapping open suddenly, the unexpected vehemency causing Lucifer to flinch.

“No?” he laughs, and it’s warm with affection, his features, hard with worry, mollifying beneath fondness, amorous amusement twinkling daintily in his eyes. 

“No,” you whine out with a tiny pout, head shaking a little in his grasp. “Please.”

“Okay,” the pad of his thumb runs along your cheek, his stare trailing after it. “If nothing else, at least Daddy will always be there to take care of you the morning after.”

[vigilantsera]

Transitioning on Ravnica: A Guide

Introduction

Ravnica, the city of guilds. Of all the planes on which to be trans, it is perhaps the one with the widest variety of options on how to transition. Indeed, each of the guilds seems to have their own preferred method by which their members (or guildless with enough coin) can become their true selves. But if transitioning is your aim, or if you are unaffiliated and seeking guidance, which guild should you join? We walk through the most common process each guild’s members use to transition below:

The Azorius Senate

Widely considered the most boring of the guilds to transition with, the process for the Azorius Senate does indeed largely consist of filing a large number of forms. In some jurisdictions, assessments by mind-mages are required to assess if the applicant is ‘truly in need of gender correction’, though these practices have been made unnecessary in most districts as of now.

Most applicants hoping to change their gender with the senate will find themselves having to file the needed forms multiple times to correct minor procedural errors, paying additional filing fees and correction fines each time (the Azorius often give the Orzhov a run for their money in this department). As such, the speed and smoothness of the transition process with the Azorius is in many regards a matter of the skill of the applicant (or their assistant, hired or otherwise) in navigating the endless bureaucracy of the senate.

However, transitioning with the Azorius does have several upsides, contrary to the popular view of them being the worst guild to transition with. For one, the forms by which one applies to revise their gender double as forms by which to amend any unwanted element of one’s body, and if one knows the proper procedure, one can sculpt their ideal body using their process down to precise elements. This is a far cry from most of the other guilds, where one’s post-transition body will often be quite similar to their old one or have a somewhat random element to how it turns out.

Furthermore, though the process of obtaining, correctly filling out, and waiting for the forms to be filed does often take months, once approval is obtained, the actual process of ‘correction of applicant’s misaligned bodily attributes’ is performed instantaneously via magical decree.

House Dimir

The Dimir are perhaps the most efficient and effective at changing one’s gender of all the guilds. They have mastered countless methods of shaping one’s appearance – illusory, transformative, temporary, permanent, magical, alchemical, and countless more besides. Though their methods were devised originally largely for the purpose of disguising oneself, they know quite well that there are those who seek them for personal reasons more than professional ones.

It is even rumored that for those of the genderfluid persuasion, or who simply enjoy flexibility of expression, that they possess methods to transform someone of any origin into a shapeshifter capable of near-instantly rearranging one’s body precisely and at will.

If they have such skill and magic, why then are they not the definitive go-to for all trans Ravnicans? Well, the answer is quite simply that the Dimir are loathe to part with their secrets, and even more loathe to surrender something of value for less than its worth. They will use their methods to allow those outside their guild to transition, to be certain… if the one who seeks their favor can pay the price.

Over the centuries, countless guild secrets have been surrendered, and many an aspiring trans person conscripted into spy work and other clandestine missions in exchange for the Dimir’s gifts of transformation. Interestingly, it is thought by some that this may be at least partially responsible for the fact that each guild has developed their own paths to transition – so that those seeking to realize their gender have options besides betraying their home guilds to the Dimir. Still, the speed and comprehensiveness of the Dimir’s methods still draw in the curious even in this more enlightened modern age….

The Cult of Rakdos

Known by many as the ‘murder clown orgy’ cult, the Rakdos of course have more than a few ways to change one’s gender. The two most widely known and commonly used will be described here.

First is the way most commonly seen by those outside the cult’s membership, as it is a frequent ‘party trick’ of sorts at their gatherings. This method involves ‘cursing’ someone to shift into the form of the greatest sexual fantasy of another linked person. Though the ‘safe’ version of this spell links the cursed to a specific other person, other variants link the cursed’s appearance shift to the most amorous person viewing them at the moment, the last person to touch them, or the person in the world most attracted to them.

This can involve the ‘cursed’ person’s gender to shift if the fantasy of the linked person is of someone of a different sex than them. Normally, this curse is intended to be temporary, used for a wild night of debauchery and nothing more, but permanent variations exist, and aside from that the curse seems to have a habit of ‘sticking’ to people who enjoy the new bodies it thrusts them into.

Like most things the Rakdos create, while this ‘curse’ is not seen as such by many who it is cast upon, it obviously has a lot of potential for misuse, and even when used ‘properly’, can sometimes shift not just the physical body but the actual gender identity of the cursed, causing them to see themselves as the gender of the body they have been made to inhabit, even if they were happy with their body before. As such, this curse is best used with caution, though given where it comes from, it almost never is.

The second most common method of transition is largely reserved for actual cult members and is quite a bit different than the curse described above. This form of transition is done via an enchanted ritual dagger, and most commonly performed in a fittingly ritualistic fashion. The person who wishes to change themselves is restrained on a table while a cultist wielding the enchanted dagger asks them to renounce the aspects of their body they wish to be rid of. Though commonly performed with an audience (as voyeurism is quite prevalent among the Rakdos), it can and is often done in a more intimate one on one setting.

In any case, the process is quite gruesome on the surface. The enchanted dagger is used to carve away the unwanted parts of the body, literally slicing off genitals, secondary sex characteristics, and carving into the skin where changes are to be made. Though intensely painful, the enchantment on the dagger is that of healing, and as the flesh is parted, it regenerates swiftly into the form of the desired sex. A severed penis will grow a fully healthy and functional vagina in its place, sliced off breasts will reform into a masculine chest, cuts along the face will soften or harden the flesh as it regrows, and the like. A sublime torment that ends in a newly idealized form, born in a ritual of blood.

The Gruul Clans

The Gruul clans, despite their reputation as uncivilized barbarians, by and large have fairly enlightened views on gender. Many in the clans see gender as what it is – a societal construct, and laugh in the face of gender norms and the rigid views many others have on the subject.

As such, quite a few in the clans transition socially only, not feeling the need to change anything about their bodies to feel confident that they are the gender they feel.

That said, for those Gruul who do desire to change themselves physically to match their gender identity, options exist. Perhaps the most common is going to clan shamans who prepare alchemical treatments from herbs, which change the body over the course of a few months. This is essentially the same treatment commonly used by the Selesnya, despite the specifics of the preparations varying somewhat.

The other method some clans use is the trial of the true form. Using a spirit-calling spell, shamans transform an aspirant into a being closer to the spirit seen as closest to them. Typically, this is some sort of animal or beast. Though temporary, when one reverts to their original form after the trial is completed, aspects of their ‘true form’ remain – often animalistic features, but for trans people, this commonly includes a full (or at least partial) transition of their sex characteristics in line with their true gender.

The Selesnya Conclave

The Selesnya take a very open and accepting view to gender and encourage those in the conclave to explore their presentation and meditate on what they desire even from a fairly young age. Those who decide they wish to change their bodies in alignment with their thoughts are given one of a wide variety of herbal alchemical concoctions which, when taken over the course of a few months, alters the body towards different sex characteristics.

Those undergoing this process are not simply given the way to change their bodies, however, and the Selesnya place a large emphasis on the social aspect of transition as well. Those in the conclave who transition commonly find themselves a mentor who will guide them on how to socialize as their new gender.

Though the Selesnya are very free with their resources to physically transition, their attitudes also interestingly lead to their ranks containing many who choose to transition solely through social means, or in only minor physical ways. Conclave members often ask the pronouns of those they meet, and are somewhat famous among other guilds for their members using a wide variety of neopronouns rarely seen in the other guilds, especially not in as large of numbers.

Overall, the Selesnya are one of the guilds most freely accepting of trans people, and are a common choice for guildless, as they offer their herbal remedies and guidance freely to any who come to them. The subtle price of course, is having to listen to their recruitment pitch to join their guild, but despite general social pressure, they don’t make any more insistent demands of those who transition with them.

The Orzhov Syndicate

Syndicate members in high standing often have the money to pursue transition through other guilds that meet their specific needs. The services of both the Dimir and Azorius are popular, as both are efficient, customizable experiences whose main issues are access and money, both of which the Orzhov elite have in spades.

That said, there are two methods of transition unique to the Orzhov, though they are unpopular among the elite for reasons that will become clear.

The first is through so-called ‘total possession’. Though the Orzhov deal frequently with ghosts and possession is a rather common occurrence, total possession is a more involved affair. This involves a ghost completely taking over a person’s mind and going so far as to reshape their body as well. Most commonly, they reshape their host into the form the ghost had in life (though often somewhat idealized). This can of course can be a fairly drastic change when the host is a different gender than the ghost.

Now, obviously this is an ineffective method of transition as long as the ghost remains in control, but using it as a method of transition involves allowing the ghost to reach full possession, to reshape the body into the desired form, and then to exercise them. As this involves the host losing control of their body for some time, not getting much if any control over their final form (unless they called a specific ghost whose living form they wished to look like) and then relying on an outside exorcist, it is considered a risky method of transition at best.

The other method of Orzhov-specific transition is known as ‘soul reshaping’. If someone has given their soul over in debt to another, that new holder of the soul, if they know the right spells, can reshape the soul of the one they hold in thrall to whatever they want. This can be extreme – often being used to make the subject’s mind pliable and obedient and to twist their body into a thrull or other pitiable being.

However, it is certainly possible that a kind soul-holder might reshape someone’s soul so that it fits more with what they view themselves as, with their body soon following suit. In cases where a trans person’s soul is held this way, their soul is usually already ‘shaped’ closer to their desired gender anyway (in such a way as a soul can be said to have a shape) and thus the actual effort needed on the soul-holder’s part is minimal.

Like total possession, the fact that this method of transition requires surrendering oneself fully to another makes it all but unheard of among those with other options, but it is a frequent dream of the highly indebted and the desperate.

The Izzet League

The Izzet league is famous for their odd experiments and outlandish inventions, which might lead one to believe that they’d have a wide range of options for those seeking to change their gender. And in a way, that’s not entirely wrong. But the thing to remember is that it is the Simic Combine who focus more on the biological side of experimentation, meaning that options within the Izzet tend to be less varied than one might expect.

Now, given the highly individualized and experimental nature of the league’s countless inventors and mages, likely there are a dizzying array of unique and one-off devices capable of altering one’s body to fit their gender identity. However, we will focus here on the two methods most commonly found that can perform this effect – both of which are quite effective, so long as you don’t care about remaining humanoid.

The first method is the ‘weird’ method. Weirds are ooze-like elemental creations, and the Izzet are (usually) quite good at making them. Transferring one’s mind into a weird, whose body can then be fluidly reshaped to fit whatever gender presentation one desires, is a well-trodden field of Izzet research, which isn’t to say it doesn’t often go wrong in unpredictable ways, but that’s true of basically anything the Izzet work on.

Similarly in the field of mind transfer, uploading one’s consciousness into a robotic construct body, while not extremely popular, is also a burgeoning field of Izzet research. One could sculpt their own ideal construct body in advance this way, and then live out their life outside of humanity, upgrading or changing things as desired.

The Golgari Swarm

The swarm are an interesting situation when it comes to transition resources. As the guild in charge of handling Ravnica’s trash and refuse, they often come across the methods to cobble together close-enough facsimiles of the methods that every other guild uses in their transition methods and rituals, and it is through these second-hand acquisitions that many members of the swarm make their transitions.

The swarm’s primary unique method of transition comes from specially grown fungi. Similar to the herbal transition methods of the Gruul or Selesnya, these fungi alter one’s physical body towards another gender expression. However, unlike those methods which produce a gradual change across several months, the fungi of the Golgari take effect after just a few doses. This rapid shift is accompanied by intense pain and vivid hallucinations, though those who utilize this method often say that they see both the pain and the visions as important steps not just towards a body they can feel more comfortable in, but towards self-acceptance and the abandonment of fears over not ‘truly’ being their desired gender.

The other method of transition within the swarm is through the sting of the shifter wasp. A single sting from this creature causes a total shift of sexual characteristics over a single agonizing day. The wasps are rare however, and the pain is not always survivable, making this a method seen as dangerous and undesirable. It is also one of the few on Ravnica that is commonly inflicted on the unwary and unwilling. Fortunately, there are many ways to alter one’s body back to what it originally was if one finds oneself transitioned against their will.

The Boros Legion

The Boros are perhaps one of the least interested in the process of transition. They aren’t against it, per se, and it is legion policy to treat all as they wish to be treated, a policy actually enforced and with harsh punishments for violation to boot.

That said, legionaries seeking transition often go outside the guild to obtain the transition services of another guild, something the Boros do allow, if not openly encourage. That said, there is an ‘official’ method of transition within the guild, but due to the legion’s practical, militaristic focus, it is quite specific and comes with certain requirements, to which it owes its relative unpopularity.

Despite being egalitarian in their overall forces, official Boros transition resources are split into two distinct paths for female to male and male to female. There is no official Boros resource for nonbinary members, who typically just seek the services of another guild.

Legionnaires who wish to transition from female to male within the Boros go to minotaur program. This program involves drinking a volatile potion brewed from minotaur blood and bottled lightning which transforms one into a male minotaur. As a side effect, the drinker often goes temporarily berserk, but this is a known side-effect and usually well-handled. The potion is somewhat difficult to make, and as a result, those who take this method of transition are typically conscripted into a specialized unit for a period of time as ‘compensation’ for their use of the potion.

The process for legionnaires wishing to transition for male to female also involves a transformation, but this time and even more drastic one. Only a few legionnaires every year are eligible for this process, an honor often reserved only for the most elite and successful soldiers. The process involves being turned into an angel – and, as some know, the angels of the Boros are all clones of the original angel, Razia. As a result, the transformation necessarily involves taking on the physical characteristics of a female, red-haired angel, rippling with muscles and infused with powerful magic.

Like the minotaur program, the transformation into an angel (often referred to as ‘ascension’) can come with mental side-effects though in this case they tend to be more severe, with new angels often finding their mindset shifting to become more practical, focused, and emotionally detached, save for the emotions needed for battle.

The exact process used for ascension is a closely guarded Boros secret, but it is known that it is fairly extensive – certainly much more than the potion required for becoming a minotaur. Persistent rumors, likely spread by the Dimir, say that the hopeful ascendant’s body is slowly burned away by holy flame and remade by the songs of existing angels. Though new angels are sworn to secrecy on the process, their defensiveness over accusations towards the process working that way seem to imply it is at the very least, close to the truth.

The Simic Combine

The Simic Combine is famous for their bioengineering, and of course, this means that altering a body to fit one’s desired gender is trivial for them.

The combine see transition as something desirable, and many in the Simic transition just to see what its like even if its not a deeply held desire of theirs. Transitioning with the Simic often comes with other body modifications (or 'upgrades' as they more commonly refer to them) and so most trans people in the Simic are also sporting gills, claws, and any number of other exotic features in addition to their new gender expression.

Ironically, despite their well-honed mastery of the art of transition and the stunning array of ‘extras’ they have on offer, the Simic are rarely sought out as a path to transition by those outside the guild, as they have a bad habit of including ‘unwanted additions’ in the form of experimental biogenetic alterations to those outside their guild. That said, those who seek to transcend not only their gender but their humanity often see the Simic as their saviors, and the Simic certainly has no shortage of members willing to perform changes for free to those willing to participate in a few experiments along the way.

[nikkento-writes]

Rub You the Right Way - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.7k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – oral sex (cunnilingus, fellatio, 69 position), mutual masturbation, face-riding, face-fucking, use of sex toys, cum eating, multiple orgasms

Summary: You can’t stop thinking about your adorably sweet and shy next-door neighbor, especially after your very eventful night with him just two days ago. Lucky for you, Choso can’t stop thinking about you either.

Author’s Notes: I initially planned for this to be a one-shot, but I love the dynamic of these two awkward dorks so much that I turned this into a three-part mini series! I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Two days following your risqué rendezvous with Choso, you find yourself standing in front of his door once again, a tad nervous to knock. It’s Sunday night, just past dinnertime, and you finally finished all the extra work you had taken home with you for the weekend. With hours spent pouring over documents, straining your eyes at a computer screen, all you want is to relax. And based on Friday night’s festivities, your shy and surprisingly sexy neighbor can help you with that.

You’re not here explicitly expecting sex. Sure, maybe you’re hoping for it to some extent. It was incredibly hot, so much so that you’ve masturbated yourself to sleep every night since, replaying it in over and over in your head. The fucked-out gaze in his eyes as he watched you play with yourself. His mouth pressed deliciously to your cunt, sucking and slurping on your swollen clit. That huge fucking cock deep down your throat. Most of all, you adore that swoon worthy smile of his as he caressed your cheek, thanking you oh-so-sweetly. What you really want is companionship, to be wrapped in his big, strong arms, so warm and comforting around you, completely at peace in the world. His lips soft, kisses careful, hands gentle on your body, like he truly cherishes you. You want that again. You want it all the time.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you knock, holding your breath in anticipation. Yuji is the one to answer, equally as surprised as you. He says your name, staring at you curiously. “Is everything okay?”

Of course he’s reacting this way; you’ve never visited, especially not at an odd hour like this. You didn’t even consider that his little brother would be here, even though he’s here basically all the time. You dumb idiot! Thinking quickly, you spit out the most generic and phony response that comes to mind. “Can I borrow some sugar?” Sugar? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?

He doesn’t seem fazed by the bizarre request, though you sense he doesn’t buy it, given the twitch in his lip, hiding his smirk. Still, Yuji, much like his brother, has a kind heart, so he plays along. “Hey bro,” he calls out, looking to his right.

Choso walks over from the kitchen, his eyes widening upon seeing you. He utters your name quietly, soap dripping from the gloves on his hands, in the middle of washing dishes.

“She wants some sugar.” Yuji has a cheeky grin on his face. “Think you can spare her some?”

Choso swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing apprehensively in his throat. “Sugar?” he repeats, an uncertain tone in his voice.

“Yeah,” you confirm, giving him an innocent smile. “I’m trying to bake some chocolate chip cookies and I have everything except sugar. So silly of me, right?” You’re not baking anything, but you can’t take it back now, not with Choso’s full attention on you.

He nods with a serious expression on his face, holding his arms up like a surgeon who just finished a procedure, suds slowly dripping down his forearms. “How much do you need?”

“Just a cup. That’s all the recipe calls for. It’s a batch of a dozen, so I really don’t need much.” There is no recipe, the lie keeps getting more and more elaborate, your voice getting squeakier and less convincing every second you speak. You really can’t help yourself when you’re put on the spot like this. Why must you be so goddamn awkward?!

He nods once more before disappearing back into the kitchen to retrieve the sugar you actually don’t need. Yuji continues to grin at you. “Choso bakes a lot, so he’s always got ingredients on hand.”

You’re relieved to change the subject in a slightly different direction. “His cookies are always so yummy.” All of the times Yuji has hand-delivered his brother’s wonderful treats to you flash in your head, making you smile.

“He’s a real sorcerer in the kitchen.” Yuji leans in a bit closer, voice softer now for only you to hear. “You know, he’d be more than happy to teach you a few of his recipes, if you want. He’s shy at first, but he is a really great guy.”

You give him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, he is.” It touches your heart how highly Yuji speaks of his older brother. Under the guise of cooking lessons, he’s implying that he wants the two of you to be together, as friends, cordial neighbors, possibly even potential lovers. Maybe he doesn’t want his brother to be so lonely anymore. 

Choso returns, two zipped plastic bags in his hands. “If you’re baking chocolate chip cookies, you’ll need brown sugar too. So, I packed you both, just in case,” he explains, dropping them into your open palms.

You accept, too shy to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the newly acquired goods. “Thank you, Choso. I really appreciate it.”

He bows, stiff and formal, while Yuji waves. “You sure you don’t want any more of Choso’s sugar? He’s got plenty to give!” he adds, definitely trying to instigate.

Turning on your heel to retreat into your apartment, you squeak, “I’m good, thank you!” without sparing them another glance. In the safety of your home, you lean against the door, burying your face in your hands. so embarrassed at what just transpired, mentally beating yourself up for being so ridiculous. With all this extra sugar so graciously given by Choso, you end up baking cookies, pretending for your own sake that this was part of the plan all along.   

~~~

Choso sits on the couch, hugging his knees, staring blankly at the empty TV in front of him. He’s muttering the word “sugar” over and over to himself, mind racing with all kinds of ridiculous thoughts. Two days after the most amazing night of his life and all you want is sugar. Sugar! And for cookies? Cookies for who?! He’s completely aware that you’ve been busy with work, but he can’t stop his insecurities from rattling him. The two of you didn’t really discuss the status of your relationship.  For all he knows, you could have hated the entire experience all together. Though, he has a hard time believing that, not with the way you looked at him, so full of warmth and adoration, even with his cock throbbing inside your mouth…

He physically shakes his head to rid the impure thoughts, the same ones that he’s touched himself to since that night. His vast collection of toys are no match to the real thing, to you. And he may never get to feel that ever again. Because you’re disgusted by him. You hate him. It’s all over between you two before it even began.

Whelp, back to freaking out.

“Choso?” Yuji’s voice finally snaps him out of his trance. His younger brother approaches him carefully, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answers, unconvincingly.

Yuji raises his brow. “You sure? You’ve been sitting here, mumbling ‘sugar’ for the past fifteen minutes.”

Fuck! He heard that? Choso blushes, embarrassed to have been caught in such a sorry state. He stutters, making a poor attempt at explaining himself. “Well, you see…I’ve been…I have a…I think that – ”

Yuji laughs, taking a seat beside him. “If you want to talk to her, just do it! I already put in a good word for you,” he says with a wink, giving him a playful nudge.

Choso gapes at him. “You…what?”

He beams, pleased with himself. “Yeah, I said you could teach her a few things in the kitchen and I think she’s interested! I mean, she did want your sugar, if you know what I mean.” More nudging and ribbing while Choso buries his face into his hands, horrified. “She’s really nice and super easy to talk to. I’m sure the two of you can become really good friends.”

Friends. Sweet baby Yuji doesn’t even know the half of it. Choso sighs, finally straying from the path of an existential crisis. “I just don’t want to make a fool of myself,” he says quietly. 

Yuji puts his arm around him, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “You won’t, I promise you. Just be yourself.”

He meets his gaze, giving him a half-hearted smile, genuinely feeling a bit better after that little pep talk. They watch a movie together, temporarily taking Choso’s mind off the whole ordeal. He tries not to think about you or the cookies you’re currently baking, or that he’s totally jealous of this new imaginary love rival of his that will be the recipient of said cookies.

Yuji leaves at eleven to catch one of the last busses back to his university. Choso decides that he’s sick of sulking around and tormenting himself with outrageous theories. He puts on his best sweats and fixes his hair so that slightly less strands are sticking out from his poofy buns. Back straight, chest puffed out, and all the confidence he can muster, he marches next door, determined to tell you exactly how he’s feeling.

~~~

You’re sitting at the kitchen table in a bathrobe, having just finished eating one of your  freshly baked cookies. You decided during your shower to finally give one of your newer gadgets a try, a sleekly designed vibrating dildo made from the softest silicone material you can imagine. The toy and a bottle of lube are set up on the nightstand beside your bed, ready to use along with the memory of riding Choso’s gorgeous face. While you wish you were actually with him instead, your efforts from earlier didn’t go the way you were hoping. This will have to do for now, at least until you gather the guts to approach him again.

Just as you’re about to retire into the bedroom, there’s a knock on your door. To your surprise, Choso stands before you, stiff and very obviously nervous. “Hi,” he says, giving you an awkward wave that you find absolutely adorable.

You smile, opening the door wider for him to enter. “Hi. Come in.”

He shuffles through, pausing at the kitchen table to observe the plate of cookies you made with the sugar he gave you. “So…cookies,” he mutters.

You bite your lip anxiously. “Yeah, cookies.”

There’s a heavy pause, the both of you trying to find the right words to say to one another. You decide to be honest with him, but it comes out the same time he asks you the question that’s been gnawing on his mind all night.

“I want be with you.”

“Who are they for?”

You stare at each other, confused. Taking a step towards him, you explain, “I came over to see if you wanted to hang out, but I chickened out when I saw your brother. I made up some dumb excuse, hence the request for sugar. I ended up baking cookies anyways to make myself feel better.”

His expression softens, sighing in relief. “I freaked out not being able to see you all weekend. And when you came over asking for sugar, I got jealous that you were baking for somebody else.” He rubs the back of his neck timidly, a small grin on his face. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

Another step and you’re close enough to touch him, but you don’t. “Not at all. I’m the one who came up with the lamest lie ever. Your brother probably thinks I’m a weirdo.”

He chuckles. “He definitely doesn’t.”

You’re only an inch apart now, enough to feel his body heat. “I meant what I said. I want to be with you.”

His eyes wander to your chest, your robe loose and barely clinging to you. He swallows hard and you can tell that he’s losing his composure too. “You do?”

“I do.” You peer up at him with a smile, wanting so badly to hug him, to kiss him.

His voice is quiet, but the surest you’ve ever heard it. “I want to be with you too.”

Your chest swells with happiness, ready to burst and shoot out confetti all over his pretty face. He’s staring at your lips now, licking his own when he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You grin at him, tugging at the collar of his sweater to pull him towards you, pressing your mouth to his. He holds you in a warm embrace, kissing you gently, one hand on your lower back, the other spread across the nape of your neck. “You taste so good,” he whispers, sucking on your bottom lip.

“That’s because I just ate a cookie,” you giggle, nuzzling your nose to his.

“Nah,” he smirks, licking into your mouth. “You taste good everywhere.”

You let out a moan, leading him straight into your bedroom where you untie the knot of your robe, revealing your bare body. He slides the rest off, watching you lie on the bed, legs spread wide, pussy on display for him. His kisses start at your ankles, then slowly up your legs, where he sucks on the plush skin of your inner thighs. You let him ravish you, toes curling in pleasure with his tongue flat on your clit, lapping you up hungrily. “Choso,” you whine his name, gripping onto his hair, bucking against his face to feel him even deeper.

He hums into your skin, his lips puckered tight around you, tongue flicking your sensitive bud. He looks up at you, enjoying your fucked-out expression. Something beside you captures his attention for a moment, distracting him. “What is that?”

You’re too caught up in the pleasure that you don’t register what he’s asking you until he pulls off to investigate, laser focused on the object on your nightstand. You quickly grab it from him, horrified when you realize what he’s so fixated on: the dildo. “It’s just one of my toys. I thought we wouldn’t hang out tonight, so I…” your voice trails off, noticing the intensity in his gaze. Hot, flustered, and not keen on elaborating any further, you comment, “Anyways, I’ll just put this away now – ”

He stops you. “No. Don’t. Don’t put it away.”

“Don’t…?”

A little too Intrigued, he scooches closer to you, studying the device in your hand. “Can you show me how you use it?”

You’ve already demonstrated the vibrator for him. For some reason, you’re shy to show him this. Maybe it’s because of how intimate it feels to have something inside you, to be probed, penetrated, filled. But as he looks at you so sweetly, eyes filled with genuine curiosity, you find yourself giving in. “Okay,” you oblige hesitantly, reaching for the lube bottle, your entire body tingling. You pump a small drop of it on the tip, using your fingers to coat the rest on.

He watches you, mouth hanging open, drool leaking from one side of his lips, mesmerized by the way you rub it up and down your cunt, teasing yourself with it. “What do you think about when you use it?”

You giggle, pressing the toy to your clit. “Do you really have to ask?”

“You think about me?” The surprise in his voice is endearing; he has no clue the effect he has on you, how badly you want him, how incredibly fucking hot he is.

“Of course I do,” you answer, gaining some of your confidence back. You pull him towards you, kissing him fervently, sliding the tip to your entrance, slick with arousal. “Look at what you do to me.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, growing erection bulging in his sweatpants, eyes glazed over as he ogles your wet cunt. “Fuck.”

“Like what you see?” you goad him, readjusting your grip on the base so that your thumb is set on the button.

He nods, kissing you along your neck, then up to your ear, his voice a sultry whisper. “I want you to squirt all over it. Want to lick it up and make you come again and again and again on my tongue.”

“Oh fuck, Choso. So nasty,” you moan, easing it inside you, pussy gradually adjusting to the size. You bite your lip at the tight fit; it’s been a while since you’ve used this, and even longer since you've been penetrated by anything, or anyone. “So tight.”

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” His genuine concern is too cute. He’s too cute.

You give him a reassuring smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s just been a while since I…y’know.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He grazes your forehead with his lips, giving you a soft peck. “I don’t want you to be in any pain.”

You grin wider, finding him so adorably sincere and sweet. “I’m sure, Choso.” With the dildo nestled comfortably inside you, you reach for his hand, resting it on the base. “Can you fuck me with it? Please?”

This spurs him on, a guttural groan escaping him, eyes wide and pupils dilated, completely captivated by you. You cup his cheek, tracing his upper lip with your thumb. He opens his mouth, chasing any taste of you on his tongue. “You’ll really let me?”

You gaze down at his lap, a small spot of precum leaking through his grey sweats. “Only if you stroke yourself while you do it.”

Choso is feverishly turned on right now, face flushed, his entire body scorching hot, cock throbbing in his pants. Your fingers brush his navel on your way to his waistband and he nearly combusts just thinking about your fist wrapped around his shaft, stroking him. He shimmies out of his bottoms, shrugging them off from his ankles until he’s naked from the waist down, rock hard erection flopping against his abdomen.

“Big boy,” you tease him, nipping at his ear lobe, drooling at the sight of him. “You’d fill me up so good.”

“God, I want to so bad,” he grunts, stroking himself with his left hand as his right fucks you with the dildo. Even without the vibration on, it feels amazing, the way he flicks his wrist, pumping the toy in and out of you. He times his thrusts to match the pace in which he strokes himself, wishing he was inside you instead. But he resists the temptation, knowing there’s all the time in the world to explore each other. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just the two of you, enjoying one another at whatever pace feels right. 

Wanting to check out all of the features this toy offers, he pushes the button, causing it to vibrate inside you. You gasp at the sudden sensation, squirming as he ramps it up two more levels, sliding it even deeper to stimulate your g-spot. It doesn’t take much longer for you to come like this, buzzing inside and out with ecstasy, the toy absolutely soaked down the base with lube and your slick. He pulls it out of you, tossing the dildo aside to marvel at the mess you made. Before he can make his next move, you roll over on top of him, straddling his lap to rub your wet pussy along his shaft. You rock yourself on him, sleek folds gliding up and down his cock so smoothly, just one move and he’d been in heaven.

He’s a stuttering nervous wreck when he asks, “Should we…should we try it, baby?” He knows the two of you shouldn’t; despite all that’s happened in just the past two days, this is a big and monumental step, especially for him, a borderline shut-in with intimacy issues that shouldn’t be resolved from a rash decision. But if you want it, he’s more than willing to give it to you. That’s just the kind of guy Choso is, putting others before himself.

Luckily for him, you see that. You see him. “Not yet,” you say, caressing his face. “We’ll wait until we’re both ready, okay? There’s no need to rush.”

He smiles, releasing the breath he didn’t realize he was holding waiting for your response. “Are you sure?”

You kiss him softly. “I really like you, Choso. I don’t want to mess this up by going too fast.”

“Me too,” he kisses you back, nearly in tears at how perfectly this is going. “I really like you, too.”

He wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing you passionately while you grind yourself on him until the both of you come, out-of-breath, sweaty, and in total bliss. His cum pools on his abdomen, some of it dripping down the side of his stomach onto the sheets below you. You relax on top of him, spent and satiated, but your little rest doesn’t last for long as he lifts you up by the hips, wiggling down the bed so that his face is pressed to your cunt, mouth eagerly lapping at your clit. “Just a little more, sweetie. Just a little more for me,” he urges you, unrelenting and determined to fulfill his promise from earlier. Want to lick it up and make you come again and again and again on my tongue.

So you let him, moaning his name wantonly with his lips puckered around you, drinking every drop of you up until he’s had his fill, which is three more orgasms later. He starts stroking himself on the last one, a big smile on his shiny swollen lips as he kisses your clit. You whimper his name for the umpteenth time tonight, hips stiff from constantly grinding against him. Still, you think you could go longer, you want to, despite how exhausted you are. And while you know there’s more to look forward to with Choso, you don’t want this to end. You pull of him, readjusting yourself so that you’re facing the other way, in the perfect position to suck his cock. He growls beneath you, sloppily eating you out while you deep-throat him, hungry for his cum.

~~~

The two of you finally settle down for the night, cuddled in new blankets and bedsheets to replace the ones soaked with the aftermath of tonight’s lovemaking. Choso spoons you from behind, his face nuzzled to the nape of your neck, inhaling your comforting scent. He rubs your belly soothingly, voice a soft whisper on your skin. “Are you feeling okay?”

You smile, turning around to face him, snuggling into his chest. “I told you, I feel amazing. You don’t have to keep worrying.”

He kisses your forehead. “I just want to make sure you’re not sick of me yet.”

This time, you can’t help but laugh. “That’s impossible.” You listen to his heartbeat carefully, trying to memorize the steady rhythm of it. “I can’t get enough of you.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Beginning at the quarry and heavily following the series

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, poorly written smut, masturbation, allusions to abortion, medical blood draw, vomiting, allusions to suicide, minor canonical character death, child injury, pregnancy complications, illness, medical procedures, graphic descriptions of childbirth

A/N: The series will heavily follow the timeline and events of the show but there will be additional non-canonical events/injuries/etc.

Chapter Moodboards by @dannyo000: Pg 1, Pg 2

Summary: Daryl met you while hunting to feed the group he saddled himself with at the quarry. It was just sex, no strings attached. Until it wasn’t. Strangers to friends to lovers. A bit of slow burn and angst.

•Chapter 1

•Chapter 2

•Chapter 3

•Chapter 4

•Chapter 5

•Chapter 6

•Chapter 7

•Chapter 8

•Chapter 9

•Chapter 10

•Chapter 11

•Chapter 12

•Chapter 13

•Chapter 14

•Chapter 15

•Chapter 16

•Chapter 17

•Chapter 18

•Chapter 19

•Chapter 20

•Chapter 21

•Chapter 22

•Chapter 23

•Chapter 24

•Chapter 25

•Chapter 26

•Chapter 27

•Chapter 28

•Chapter 29

•Chapter 30

•Chapter 31

•Chapter 32

•Chapter 33

•Chapter 34……in progress

Gorgeous moodboard by the amazing @dustbunniess ❤️

Beautiful fanart by a lovely (my favorite) anon 🩵

[goldyke]

LAP Bands should be illegal

This post is going to deal with medical fatphobia, weight loss surgery, coercion, emetophobia, food issues, disordered eating, and just all around bad shit. But it’s important.

Shortly after I reached adulthood, I was coerced into weight loss surgery. I weighed about 250 pounds and was considered morbidly obese.

The Lap Band is a disgrace to the medical profession and is just another example of how the medical profession does not care about the lives of fat people.

To preface this: the surgery works. I lost 70 pounds and people treated me differently and I hated them all for it.

The Lap Band made my life miserable. When it was filled, I could not eat until noon without getting stuck. Even then, getting stuck was always a risk. There was a strict diet to follow and you were supposed to be safe from that if you followed it. On top of that, there were rules for how you ate. One standard I saw was not to eat in bites larger than your fingernail. Can you see yourself doing that for a week, let alone years and years?

Getting stuck is a horror you can't imagine. The food lodges in the top of your stomach, blocking off your system. You continue to produce saliva and swallow it down. Slowly, the mucous in your saliva builds up. It feels like you're drowning. Eventually, you have to essentially throw it all up. A disgusting experience (and a mortifying one if you're in public.) The saliva is thick and ropy. This experience is often called "sliming" on the forums.

I became frightened of eating in public. In a way, I became frightened of food altogether. I knew something had to give the day I reacted to someone biting a hamburger in a tv show the way a regular person would react to a killer jumping out in a horror movie. I developed the disgusting and unhealthy habit of chewing and spitting out food. I completely lost my enjoyment of many foods I had previously enjoyed because of how problematic they were (I can no longer enjoy a chicken thigh for example.) I stopped eating meals and began grazing. I developed eating habits worse than the ones that "made me fat"

After 3 years, I had the band emptied of fluid, which significantly decreased, but did not stop, these problems. I regained the weight, and found it didn't bother me. (Along the way I discovered that my discomfort with my body had never been weight related)

I had my band removed after 6.5 years earlier this year. I am in a support group on facebook for victims of this malpractice. There are 5.6 thousand members, each with their own horror stories. Some of them cannot get the band removed because insurance will not cover the procedure, though they happily covered the band's placement. Some have tried to go through with removal but have had surgeons try to coerce them into getting a different weight-loss surgery instead of just removing it. Many have long-term damage from the band eroding the walls of their stomach or esophagus, or from the band adhering to multiple organs. Many of them had the band for 12-14 years, before removal because none of our doctors told us it needs to be removed within 10.

Many practices no longer perform Lap Band surgery and now believe it is unethical. The surgeon who removed my band still performs this surgery regularly.

A study performed in 2011 with 151 lap band patients, found that 22% of patients experienced minor complications and 39% experienced major complications. The person who coerced me into surgery actually experienced major complications and needed an emergency removal.

I experienced no serious complications. Everything I described above is considered normal. And It still drastically lowered my quality of life.

I don't know why I'm sharing this or who I'm sharing it for, but here I am. If you know anyone considering the lap band surgery, don't let them go through with it without knowing the truth. And please be kinder to your body than the medical profession wants you to be.

[pucksandpower]

Under the Influence

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc knows three things (1) wisdom teeth have nothing to do with being wise (2) his face looks like a chipmunk and (3) he really really really loves his girlfriend

Warnings: mention of minor medical procedure

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. Bleary eyed, you reach for it and squint at the screen. 37 missed calls and too many texts to count, all from Charles.

It’s the big day — your boyfriend is finally getting his wisdom teeth removed this morning. You had wanted to go with him to the oral surgeon but Charles insisted he would be fine on his own.

Clearly, that was not the case.

The phone starts vibrating again and you swipe to answer. Before you can even say hello, Charles’ slurred voice comes through the speaker. “Ma choupinette! I misssss you!” He draws out the last word for several seconds. You stifle a laugh at how loopy he sounds from the painkillers.

“Hi, my love. How are you feeling?” You ask gently.

You hear some shuffling on his end of the line.

“I feel ... so good! I can’t feel my face though. Is it still there?” More shuffling noises. “Yep, still here! Wow, my cheeks are soooo big and fluffy now!” He descends into a fit of giggles.

You grin and shake your head. Your poor Charles is definitely still under the influence of the drugs. “I’m glad you’re not in any pain. Are you home already?”

“Yep! Safe and sound in my bed. But it’s so lonely without you here. You should come over and cuddle me!” His words come out muffled, no doubt because his mouth is still numb.

You glance at the clock — it’s still relatively early in the morning. “I would love to but I have a few things to take care of first. I’ll come by this afternoon to check on you though, okay?”

Charles lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fiiiiiine. Hey, did you know you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole world? And you’re so nice too! I’m the luckiest ...” He trails off into incomprehensible mumbling.

You have to press your hand to your mouth to hold in your laughter. Anesthetized Charles is even more adorable than regular Charles. “Thank you, my love. You’re very kind. Now get some rest, I’ll see you soon.”

“Okayyyy, bye bye gorgeous!” Charles singsongs before hanging up. Still chuckling, you set your phone down to start getting ready for the day. Your productivity is short lived however, as your phone immediately starts buzzing again.

Charles is calling you back.

With a mix of amusement and exasperation, you answer the call. Before you can ask what’s wrong, Charles’ cheerful voice exclaims, “I forgot to tell you I love you!”

You can’t help but laugh out loud this time. “I love you too, Charles.”

“Yay!” He cheers. In the background, you hear a woman’s voice telling Charles to stay in bed and get some rest. It must be his mother looking after him. Thank goodness for her help today.

You talk Charles into hanging up and leaving you be for now. As entertaining as loopy Charles is, you do need to run some errands. You eventually make it out the door and head into town. While perusing the aisles of the grocery store, your phone buzzes again. Expecting it to be Charles, you don’t even look at the screen before answering with an amused, “Yes, my love?”

Instead of your boyfriend’s sleepy voice, you hear numerous screams and squeals on the other end. Before you can ask what’s happening, the chaos turns into a bunch of people chanting “Say it again! Say it again! Say it again!”

Your stomach drops. You pull the phone away to look at the screen. Sure enough, Charles is broadcasting on Instagram Live and waving at an alarmingly large crowd of fans gathered below his apartment. Dreading what you’re about to witness, you bring the phone back to your ear. The chanting continues until Charles finally obliges.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I love you sooooo much! You’re the bestest, most bootiful, charming girl in the whole universe and I love you more than racing!” His confession is met with deafening squeals from his adoring devotees. You stand frozen in the cheese aisle, one hand clutching your grocery basket, cheeks flaming red. This is not exactly how you hoped your relationship would go public.

Charles is still slurring sluggishly into the phone, rambling on about how perfect and wonderful you are. You try to get a word in edgewise to stop him but his fans keep egging him on.

“Charles, honey, maybe you should get off Live and rest ...” you attempt feebly.

He gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you my girlfriend? Y/N? Is that you?”

You sigh, resigned to your fate. “Yes Charles, it’s me.”

The screams somehow increase in volume at this admission. Charles laughs with delight. “Guys, this is my girlfriend! Isn’t she the coolest? I’m the luckiest guy ever!”

Despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but melt a little at his ear-to-ear grin and heart eyes on the screen. He looks utterly smitten, even in his disoriented, post-op state. His fans seem to be eating it up too, flooding the comments with things like “My life won’t be complete until someone looks at me the way that Charles looks at Y/N” and “Charles is boyfriend of the year!”

You spend the next 15 minutes gently trying to persuade Charles to end the livestream and rest to no avail. He is having far too much fun gushing about you and interacting with his followers. You field a few questions from curious fans, keeping your answers light to avoid revealing too much. It’s clear they are enthralled by this lovestruck version of the normally private Ferrari driver.

Finally, after Charles has told the story of your first date no less than five times, his mother comes to your rescue. She appears on camera and tenderly tells Charles the “show” is over and he needs to sleep. He pouts adorably but allows her to tuck him back into bed and take away his phone. Just before the Live ends, he blows a loopy kiss to the camera and says “Love you, mon chouchou!” The fans go wild in the chat before the feed cuts out.

You slump against your shopping cart in relief. Your phone is already flooded with texts from friends and family who saw the Instagram fiasco. You shoot off some quick reassurances that you’re both fine and it was just the medication talking. Bagging the rest of your abandoned groceries, you check out as fast as possible. There’s somewhere you need to be right now.

Twenty minutes later you’re knocking on the door of Charles’ apartment. His mother opens it with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry about earlier dear, the anesthesia made him a bit out of it as I’m sure you noticed.”

Charles perks up when you enter his bedroom. “You came!” He mumbles happily, making grabby hands at you. You settle onto the bed next to him and he immediately nuzzles into you like an affectionate kitten. His mother slips out to give you two some privacy.

You run your fingers soothingly through his hair. “How are you feeling now, my love?”

“Mmm ... sleepy. And really happy you’re here." He smiles dopily up at you. “Did I do something silly earlier? I don’t really remember.”

You debate downplaying it but figure he’ll find out eventually when the internet explodes. “You may have repeatedly declared your undying love for me on an Instagram Live ...” you say sheepishly.

Charles’ eyes go wide. “No way, really? Wow ...” He blinks slowly, processing this new information. A sly grin spreads across his swollen face. “Well it’s true. I meant every word.”

You kiss his forehead tenderly. “I know you did. Now get some more rest, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Charles looks up at you adoringly. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you more,” you boop him on the nose.

He giggles. “No way. I love you more-er.”

“Impossible. I love you most,” you insist.

“Nuh-uh,” Charles protests. “I love you most-est.”

You laugh at his stubborn persistence. “Alright, you win. Now close your eyes.”

Charles snuggles impossibly closer into your side and soon his breathing evens out as he drifts back to sleep. You brush a few curls off his forehead and whisper “I love you most-est-est.”

You make sure the blankets are wrapped securely around him and shake your head affectionately at your adorable, clueless boyfriend. Today certainly didn’t go as expected but you wouldn’t trade your Charles for anything in the world.