#or an imitation i’m not certain

[dozydawn]

[dirtbra1n]

I’m feeling regular today Whos going to answer for this

[earthtooz]

…u mentioned rin. what do u think about unofficial bf rin seeing u in another guy’s jacket cs when u asked him for his he said he’s too cold to give it to u.

the itoshi rin writer within me coming alive for seven be like...

gn!reader who is the assistant manager for rin's team, pro!player itoshi rin, playful y/n, situationship between rin and reader, rin is jealous bc this is how i celebrate the end of an itoshi rin drought in the manga, unedited + apologies for bad writing

A hand slaps down on the table in front of you, the harsh sound of skin meeting wood softened only by a mere jersey. The sudden interruption rips you from the paperwork you had been assigned at the start of the day, ripped from the world of sporting brand deals and competition contracts by a certain grump you have the pleasure of dealing with. 

“Put this on.” Itoshi Rin demands, cold voice rocky with conflict.

“What?” You ask, mind dazed and eyes sore from reading so many words. 

“Put this on.” Rin seethes through his teeth, practically waving his jersey in your face. 

“Why?”

“Because you need it.” 

“Not anymore, I’m not. Isagi gave me his jacket.”

“I can see that. That’s why you should put. This. On.” 

“Hey, you were the one that was cold!” You counter, capping your pen and pointing it at him. “Remember? You were like ‘why didn’t you bring your own, you idiot. Warm-ups haven’t started yet, so I can’t give it to you’.” 

It irks him how you imitate him with a sneer that he swears he doesn’t have, or how you deadpan your tone to match his, but what irks him even more is the fact that you’re wearing Isagi’s jersey instead of his. Rin has half a mind to burn it instead of returning it to the dark-haired when he gets his hand on it.

“Just- just take it!” He demands, pushing his neatly-folded jersey even closer to you.

“Don’t want it anymore,” you resist, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “People are gonna get the wrong idea.”

“And that is?”

“That we’re romantically involved,” you tease and Rin swears he feels his eye twitch. Sometimes he asks himself why, that out of all people, you were the one to capture his heart. You’re playful, understanding, and maybe a little too cunning for his own good, but he can’t find it himself to want you to change, and that is when he knew love-dipped arrows had struck him through the heart.

Accepting love’s toxins is why Rin finds himself completely exasperated, staring you down; the physical manifestation of everything he adores and simultaneously drives him crazy. After months of denying his feelings for you, and this is what he gets in return?

“Why would those idiots get ‘the wrong idea’?” He asks, deciding to play into your hands.

“Being seen in public with each other is a big step, y'know, especially if I’m wearing your jersey.”

“What the- so why can you wear Isagi’s jersey?”

You tap your pen against the table at a metronomic pace. “Because Isagi and I are just friends!”

Itoshi Rin can feel a migraine materialising. “I don’t care anymore, just, put this on already.”

“Your teammates may begin to speculate.”

“They’ve seen us kiss, what is there to ‘speculate’?” the athlete asks.

“We’ve never held hands in front of them, though,” you contest. “Me wearing this is kind of like you asking me to be your partner so-”

“So put on the damn jersey!”

With a hidden smile, you finally accept his gift, holding onto the soft fabric with a delicate grip. After months of dancing around being an ‘official’ or ‘unofficial’ couple, triumph settles in your stomach when you pull the collar of his jersey over your head. The expensive smell of his cologne invades your senses, distracting you from the satisfied look in his teal gaze.

A hand finds yours and effortlessly pulls you out of your office chair to be almost chest-to-chest with Itoshi Rin. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, snatching Isagi’s jersey as he drags you to the pitch, never letting you stray one inch from him.

He wants his teammates to get the 'wrong' idea, after all.

wrong idea as in you are romantically evolved, you're welcome xx

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[procrastiel]

My highlights from The Assembly:

Was John Taylor from Duran Duran your first ever crush? “Yes, he absolutely was.” Michael thought he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, man or woman. And he tried to imitate his hairdo (didn’t work out though, because Michael’s hair is really curly and John’s is straight).

He’s not brave enough to go on Strictly because he thinks he’s not a good dancer.

How does it feel to be dating someone that is only 5 years older than your daughter? “Both of us were quite surprised when we got together, it wasn’t something we were looking for. I haven’t dated anyone who is much younger than me but you meet who you meet. We were both very aware how people might respond, and that it would be difficult and challenging, but ultimately we felt that it was worth it, because of how we felt about each other. And now we have two beautiful children together. We’re really, really happy. I am aware that I am a much older father, and it does worry me, and makes me concerned, and makes me sad thinking about the time that I won’t have with them. But if you find someone who brings you happiness and you make them happy you gotta go for that. So that’s what we decided to do, and I’m so happy we did because we have this wonderful family now.”

The next question (asked by the same girl) was: Who is the rudest celebrity? “Have you heard of a man called David Tennant? He was Doctor Who. Doctor rude! No he’s very nice. Someone will occur to me and I’ll let you know. (pause) Jennifer Laurence was very cheeky! She is very cheeky.”

How tall are you? “I’d like to be 5”11 but I’m closer to 5”10.”

He likes Dylan Thomas, even though he doesn’t understand all of his poetry.

He cries probably every day. And it’s totally fine to feel things deeply and get emotional about things.

His favourite Disney film is Moana. And that’s Mabli’s favourite movie at the moment, too. She watches it about twice a day.

He’s worried that AI will take his job away, and that it will change everything, not just actors and writers. And that by the time we will want to put a stop to certain things it’ll be too late.

His favourite food is Egg and chips. Only enhanced by ham.

He loves going by train.

If he could replace 2 people of the royal family he’d take away Andrew & Camilla and replace them with Joe Lycett & David Attenborough. Or Tom Jones as the Prince of Wales!

If he could play the Doctor or the Master, he’d like to play the Master and play opposite David Tennant as the Doctor.

His biggest fear is being alone. And it’s also what he worries about the most for other people.

Hot or cold? He does like winter and snow. ❄️

Walk us through the before, during and after of the kiss with David Tennant: reading the script he thought “that’s gonna be a big deal”. They didn’t really talk about it and just went for it. Everyone was quite moved by the scene, all the people around them, so they knew it had gone quite well. And now they never talk about it. (He said that last bit with a smile.)

5 OF THE INTERVIEWERS SANG HERE COMES THE SUN FOR HIM AND EVERYONE JOINED IN AT THE END 😍 Michael had tears in his eyes

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Downed

A/N: I got the cut scene of Astarion imitating Halsin in the middle of drafting a drabble, and this is the result. Please enjoy. Tags: Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Half-drow!Reader, gender neutral reader, BG3, TDU!Reader, BG3 Astarion WARNINGS: hallucinations, canon-typical violence. Summary: You get hit by a fear spell while in the Underdark and hallucinate shadows in anticipation of fighting the Shadow Curse, Astarion is angry and it's all Halsin's fault. Apparently.

Word count: 1.6k+

(GIF Credit to @iplann)

All Astarion remembered was seeing you go down. 

It was an ambush by two rogue Duergar as you crept through the Underdark. Originally, the pair of you had been on an unimportant quest for you to retrieve some bioluminescent mushrooms to make lanterns; Astarion doesn’t understand the appeal but is also unable to say no to any of your requests. 

He regrets being a pushover at that moment, as it’s landed you both in this one.

After you fell, he had lunged across the field and sunk his teeth into the neck of the Duergar casting spells. He refuses to provide the sorcerer a painless death by draining, instead tearing at the flesh with his teeth. A sick gurgling echoes through the grassy hollow you’d been attacked in, and Astarion releases the dwarf. He stumbles for a moment, clutching at the missing area of flesh on his neck before falling face first into the grass. 

The other blue-skinned creature freezes at the realization they're fighting a vampire, and Astarion wastes exactly zero time thrusting a rapier directly into her heart.

The vampire instantly changes pace from attack to healing as he dashes towards you and leaves the bodies behind. You’re laid out a few metres away, curled into the fetal position and muttering nonsensical words into the humid air. A putrid green film coats your armor, and Astarion wrinkles his nose at the spell. 

“Tav, can you hear me?”

Your eyes find him, familiar but distant and darting about all over the cavern. Astarion recognizes the after effects of a Fear spell, and the Ray of Sickness’ grotesque slime. He was fairly certain the sorcerer had struck you with a bout of sickness while you were paralyzed by fear, hallucinating figures of great evil and unstoppable power. 

“...’starion?” 

“Fortunately for you, yes.” He quips, trying not to let his voice quiver. “If only I was a Cleric.”

Your eyes search his face, landing quickly on his mouth. Astarion freezes as you tense. “V-Vampire.”

His first instinct is to frown, concealing his fangs from your warped mental state. “All the better to keep you safe. Now come on, we need to make haste back to camp so our resident Cleric-”

You clutch at his collar, a wheeze escaping you. Your frenzied eyes have moved away from his fangs to something in the distance, apparently deciding he was less of a threat. “It’s coming. ‘Starion, please, please, get me out of here.”

Astarion recognizes the delusional panic lacing your voice and chooses to hush you softly instead of turning around. He’s determined not to feed the plague gnawing at your mind, and not to let it invade his. You’re the first thing that’s motivated him, loved him for two centuries and he is terrified to see you in such a state. Every other wound has been bandaged or healed shortly thereafter by Shadowheart, but this is different. He couldn’t cover this with gauze, and nothing in his repertoire includes healing of the mind. Rest and comfort will be the best cure for you. 

“It’s a spell, darling.” He coaxes you into looking back at him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

There’s no stopping the feral gleam in your gaze and Astarion knows you need to get somewhere safe to rest, to be rid of this ailment. He ignores the stink of your gear and scoops you into his arms, immediately angered by the tremors wracking your body. Your arms wrap tight around his statuesque neck and shoulders. 

“They’re everywhere.” You whimper into his collar, pointing towards the Duergar’s bodies. 

Curiosity gets the best of him. “What’s everywhere?” 

“The sh-shadows.” You manage, fingers swiping through half-dried blood on his face. “They’re coming.”

Astarion curses Halsin under his breath. The camp’s talks of making it through the Shadow-Cursed lands had been a hot topic as of late, brought to them by Halsin’s tales of suffocating darkness and misery. It was true you had to navigate through them, but Astarion had his own qualms with wasting their time trying to fix it in order to please the Druid. Especially since said Druid had been eyeing you up as if he were starving each time you saunter across camp.

“There’s too many of your glowing mushrooms here to be any threatening shadows, dear.”

Astarion trudges further into the hollow, finding a small secluded cove to one side. It’s as if the Gods were anticipating someone making a camp out of it - the small opening is no more than a metre wide, and damp lichen hangs in wisps from overhead. Fungi of numerous colors and brightness glow around you both, and there’s a moment of worry that they've stumbled into a transportation circle. The last thing he needs is to be unwittingly thrust to the surface in the Hag’s putrid swamp or a Gnoll’s den. A few fleeting taps with his toes stir no magic in the foliage, and Astarion feels comfortable enough to set you down.

He digs through both your backpacks for supplies, coming up with two bedrolls and enough wood to stack for a half-ass campfire. It takes only a couple minutes  to get your outer layer of clothes off and your body settled on a bedroll before Astarion moves onto the fire. 

Dancing flames have your rapt attention when they spring up from the wood. “No shadows.”

The child-like tone you carry in your confusion tugs at Astarion’s dead heart. “Correct, my sweet. No shadows here. Just a vampire and a very, very confused monk.”

You seem to settle in between bouts of coughing. Astarion sheds his armor to lessen the smell of sickness and looks through his pack once again, coming up empty for any elixir to remedy your fear. He instead stands to peek out of your makeshift camp, confident that as you settle your condition may improve. 

“N-No!” You burst out into a fit as the vampire moves away, one hand clutching his boot. “You can’t leave me here.”

Any intention of looking out is forgotten as you begin to cry. Astarion hushes you like a scared animal, pulling the bed rolls together and joining you on the floor. He indulges you in a rare moment of gentility, pulling you into his side and whispering into your hair. These moments back at camp are rare, saved for when your mates are asleep or out of sight. 

It isn’t until you pull away from the crook of his neck that he notices your eyes are sharper, no longer darting about or hazed over with artificial fear. Despite this, tears still leak from them. 

“Tav? Are you all right?”

You sniff softly. “I’m so tired, Astarion. And I feel terrified… like something’s watching me. But something in me knows it’s not real.”

He nods, tongue running along his fangs. “Damned sorcerer that ambushed us struck you with a Fear spell.”

“I had a dream that we were near Moonrise Towers.” You flounder for a moment, “There were shadows everywhere.” 

“Not a dream, I’m afraid. More a hallucination than anything.” Astarion explains, “A real drag to bring along after the fight, you were.”

His teasing is welcome, chasing away the worst tendrils of darkness licking at your mind. “Cheeky… But I’ve never taken the blow from a Fear spell before. This is awful.”

Astarion can tell your mind is still fearful despite breaking through the confusion, parasite reaching out to his in flashes of white hot panic and terror. Your heart is racing, the ever-so-tempting vein in your neck throbbing in sync. It’s a juxtaposition against your determined face, trying so hard to remain strong. 

“Afraid so… I’ll be speaking with Halsin about his persistence in this shadow curse solution. No need for it to plague you like this. Especially seeing as we haven’t even trudged our way through the Underdark yet.” Astarion’s voice is sharp and surprisingly protective. 

“Astarion, I do feel obligated-”

“You should feel obligated to do nothing. You already play peacemaker for these morons, no need for them to dump all their hopes and dreams on you. Especially when your mind uses them to terrify you.”

A weak chuckle escapes you, and your fingers toy with the fabric of his undershirt. “I think the effects of the spell were to blame for my terror.”

“The effects of the spell are determined by the worries in your mind. In other words, the man of the forest can take them all elsewhere.”

You snort at his distaste towards Halsin, as it’s not the first time you’ve noticed. 

A particularly loud drip of water somewhere in the hollow causes you to jolt into Astarion, adrenaline still coursing like fire through your body. “Gods. How long am I going to feel like a mouse?”

Astarion grips you a little tighter, “Until you rest, most likely.”

“Are you going to meditate?” You ask, curling into his side. 

“I’ll be keeping watch. You need to sleep. Heal your mind from this wretched curse.” Astarion’s words are a little too aggressive, his own nervous mind still concerned for your wellbeing above all else. 

You’re familiar with the tone, and can only smile softly at the vampire’s inability to express concern without placing blame. Perhaps all this talk of a Shadow Curse had caused you to be plagued by such figures in the depths of the spell, but you don’t place blame on Halsin. 

Though, you were certain Astarion would never see it that way. 

He’s taken a moment to relax now, laying on his back with an arm behind his head. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked over his. Astarion’s other hand traces patterns onto yours, lazy circles that lull your mind into a quiet sense of security. The terror subsides ever so slowly, intensity halved while lying in his arms. 

“Astarion?”

“Hm?” 

“I’m okay, you know.”

A huff answers, and a brief rush of words. “I’m still blaming the Druid.”

“Of course you are.”

_______________________________________

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Masterlist | Send me ideas

[extrashortshorts]

So there’s this thing rats can do called Boggling which basically makes it look like their eyes are about to pop out of their skull. It’s usually when the rat is comfortable and content.

… I mean you already know where I am going with this, thanks to your au I now can’t stop thinking about Rat Shanks boggling and everyone being mildly to wildly disturbed because his eyes just pop out like. 👀 👀 . Some real looney tunes stuff.

Roger making a young Shanks laugh and then freaking because “Oh fuuuuck I broke my boy.” . Mihawk just budging away slowly from a tipsy and affectionate Shanks who’s eyes look like they are positively vibrating. Kid Luffy trying to imitate his idol having to be told “LUFFY NO.” In very certain terms because doing that pre Gumgum just spells disaster. The person most used to this would probably be Buggy, since they grew up together and he witnessed Shanks doing that several times. Doesn’t mean he likes it tough. “….Stop that.” “I can’t help it. I’m so happy.” “You look like you’re about to pop, dirty rat!” “I’m just so happy to hang out with you.” “STOP!” “I like hanging out with you so mu-“”GODDAMN DON’T TRY TO DO IT HARDER YOU’RE SO GROSS!”

There’s just so many species misunderstandings and silly moments I can think about and it tickles me pink.

Phhhwhwhwhhh-👀 his staring is tooo obvious

[thefawnfallacy]

The way that Hannibal and Will are never referred to as being queer is interesting. It’s not like sexuality never comes up, it does, predominantly with Margot who openly admits to being lesbian and talks about it often as a part of her character but I think that the way sexuality is framed is another mask.

Margot openly wants to kill her brother, so her sexuality is on display, she is a character that the viewer can “see”. The audience knows that Hannibal is queer — he doesn’t say it but it is shown through numerous other characters, predominantly through Will. Will is the filter in which the viewer “sees” Hannibal and so we know and acknowledge that he is a queer character.

Will is the blurriest and this is interesting in a variety of ways to me. Why does the viewer never have a clear sense of sexuality from Will? To start, Will is an unreliable narrator, we cannot explicitly trust the truth of what Will tells us about anything because it’s always just slightly shifted. He doesn’t victimise himself but he does elevate himself, just slightly, based on his current concept of morality. He was guilty when he killed Hobbes so we see him as guilty and unsteady, he was righteous when he killed Tier, so we see him through a lens of righteousness. No-one else can see him clearly and therefore, neither can we. He is not hidden in plain sight the same way as Hannibal and in doing so, makes himself very confusing to properly understand while also being exceedingly easy to pick apart.

Will is multifaceted and shifts the way he’s perceived a number of times throughout the series, while always giving the impression that he is completely unaware of it.

(side note: this doesn’t properly fit but I think it’s worth mentioning the “Will Graham is not a lesbian” line because there’s an undertone of stubborn curiosity there — is Will Graham a lesbian? Hannibal doesn’t know and Margot is quite smug about it, but that’s more gender based than anything).

Because of the ability to “chameleon” himself for any situation, he leaves a lot open to interpretation. Will Graham could be queer, he could be straight, he could a lot of things. It’s also worth noting that Will Graham experiences attraction in very different ways when it comes to men vs women based on the characters we see. With Matthew (and I’m using the definition of attraction very loosely here) as well as Hannibal, he is incredibly manipulative, like he can’t imagine being genuine with these men in the biblical sense but with Alana he is more open to being perceived and received a certain way. Molly is a more hollow imitation of Alana — he acts the way he thinks love should be but it’s hollow.

Hannibal, of course, is a curious show of attraction. He expresses a wide range of emotions towards him but never stereotypical feelings, if anything, he seems to take a sharp left when it comes to Hannibal but at the same time, he is very obviously more gentle and honest with him, like he’s trying to “show”the viewer what’s underneath. (meaning he does carry about Hannibal, we know he does, he simply shows a wrestling with these emotions that often come across as more violent or unrefined).

*this is just my interpretation, please don’t take it as gospel 🙂.

[nouearth]

servicing justice: superman [1]

pairing ; kal-el / clark kent / superman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 2144. series ; servicing justice. genre ; smut. rating ; m. warnings ; bigdick!superman. blowjob. gloryhole. handjob. mouth-fucking. oral (reader giving). sexworker!reader. note ; yeah, okay. maybe i've been watching too much of a certain video genre, ahem. but i hope you guys enjoy my first smut! it's been a WHILE since i've written one, so i know it's rusty, HAHA. looks-wise, i mostly had maws's superman in mind (because the art style is so good and so himbo), but feel free to imagine it with any superman!

it isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. you’ve been kneeling on the floor for quite some time now, waiting for your assigned client. your palms begin to sweat to a minimal but uncomfortable degree. did i fuck up already? you ask yourself as your mind clouds with questions, doubts, and even judgement regarding this new job.

“jesus, what did i get myself into…” you recall the long process it took for you to end up here. the intensive (and ridiculously long) process of reading and signing multiple forms and documents almost had you backing out of this opportunity. though looking back at it, it was understandable since it’s quite unheard of to be… a sex worker for superheroes.

for an incredible pay, your privacy will essentially be stripped away starting from today. all phone messages, calls, and social media activities will be monitored during your venture as a sex worker, and that post-graduate life was not going to pay itself. for the most part, so far everything seemed… great? being driven to work by a chauffeur, having your own personal room and health coverage provided, and most importantly… eating free lunch was not bad at all.

or maybe you’re just naïve.

all you had to do was kneel and suck a few superhumans off. as the newbie, you were told that you’ll be starting on gloryhole duty due to privacy reasons; at least until you built enough camaraderie. though, you didn’t even mind since there would certainly be less strain on your body.

you couldn’t help but snicker at the mere thought of an entire league of superheroes holding a meeting regarding this subject matter. especially since almost everyone in the world, including you, holds these superheroes in such high regard.

“meeting is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow! until then, please help yourself to some delicious food trucks from outer spac-“ your humorous imitation of a noble superhero is silenced when you hear the door opening. within your private booth, all that blocks you from meeting your approaching client is another door with a hole cut through.

your curiosity is piqued when you catch a sight of the man’s physique through the hole. plaid shirt and jeans aside, and assuming he had to underdress, he’s huge. maybe because you’re kneeling right now, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been near a superhero before, but you couldn’t help but be in awe at the size of the man. your eyes complete a full body scan by the time he approaches the door and before you could say something, he does.

“sorry i was late-“ a gentle voice echoes behind the door. contrary to his soft voice, the man’s large hands work aggressively at his belt, unlooping the leather with impatience yet eagerness as he anticipates the mouth that’s been waiting for his arrival. “there was this whole thing with this cat in this tree and then this school bus got hijacked- not my best day, unfortunately.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. sounds like a stressful day, yeah?” your voice is compassionate. you felt bad for the unnamed superhero and a part of you wanted to continue the conversation further, but your job isn’t to listen to their feelings. it’s to pleasure.

“yeah…” a huge sigh of relief expels from the man’s dry throat when he pulls his pants down. frustration stains another one of your client’s sigh, clearly troubled by the restrictive fabric guarding his erection. you watch with parted lips as he couldn’t help but give himself a needy stroke through his tight briefs, fondling his balls then beelining his palm to the very plump tip of his cock. your own cock hardens at this scene, and you find yourself doing the very same. mimicking his impatient hand to tend to the sensitive pressure below, you tiptoe the fine line between frustration and pleasure as your tightening pants and briefs define what it means to be an absolute nuisance. “very stressful.”

it doesn’t take much time before you’re faceful of cock and somehow, you manage to salivate more than you did a minute ago. the man’s throbbing erection is brimmed with thick pre-cum, stress practically leaving his body with every drip. it’s a heavenly sight that’s enough to make you stick your tongue out just in time to catch the substance into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. the salty taste always catches you off-guard yet at the same time, it puts you under a spell. a tantalizing spell that commands you to drag your warm tongue over and back the underside of his thick shaft, completely avoiding the plump glans to have his cock leak even more… stress.

the taste of his musk drives your palm further into your erection, palming at whatever you could as you preoccupy yourself with teasing the man. you almost felt bad for him. contrary to his build, his whimpers are… so small, so weak. you notice his hands grip over the top of the barrier, and it turns you on upon realizing how this supposed hero could become so fragile at the simple taunt of your tongue.

“please…” the superhero whimpers out, needlessly fucking the air in hopes of granting his cock some type of friction. you’re amazed, and a little proud, by how much pre-cum he’s been leaking by now, and it all goes right onto your tongue. the wet muscle follows the natural curve of his cock to meet up with the wet and plump head. his hips buckle into the barrier and feeling it shake, you keep him steady by wrapping your hand around his shaft. you’re addicted at this point. addicted to the salty taste of his pre-cum as your tongue licks and explores into the slit of his cock, while at the same time, your hand works at his large cock in slow, but steady strokes.

“oh christ-“ he breathes out, repeating the same two words under his shaky breath as you continue to pleasure him with your tongue and hand. after a few licks, you pull away to give your tongue a break. in doing so, your grip tightens around his shaft to pace your strokes quicker. when you find a moment where your wrist needs a break, you let your client catch his breath. his cock throbbing more and more with every passing second when your tongue and hand aren’t exploring him, and you bask in the sight of it. you believe you deserve a medal at this point. not for doing a great job (though, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched), but for having control. you haven’t even sucked him off yet, but you’re content on remaining just like this for a while longer. though, that wouldn’t be fair for the superhero.

before he could whimper out another plea, your warm mouth finally wraps around the head of his cock and your ears perk at the sound of his low moan almost instantly. your hand returns to its rightful position around the lower base of his penis as you cycle your tongue over the glans, satisfying your need to taste his musk once more. seconds later, your hand lets go when you push your head farther, taking in an inch more of the hero’s cock. your knees dig into the floor as you push your head more and more, stretching your mouth with his cock until you feel yourself gagging.

“fuck.” you sniffle out when you pull back. perhaps you were challenging yourself too hard. you think to yourself as you catch your breath, using the remaining moment to sloppily jerk him off with your saliva. part of you wanted to challenge yourself to deepthroat him, impress your client on the first day. but you already know you wouldn’t be able to take it… at least, for now.

“you could hurt someone with this, y’know?” for some reason, you thought you needed to crack a joke as if there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. maybe you just wanted to hear him talk again. his voice is warm and inviting, somewhat fitting for a superhero or even a television host as the moment you hear his voice again, you felt safe.

“i have before- oh god.” you lube up his cock with your spit as you continue to jerk him off, refraining yourself from fucking his slit with your tongue again to concentrate on his words. “which is why i don’t do this much- sex and stuff… it’s all troublesome, really.”

“yeah?” and just when you talked yourself out of challenging yourself, you feel the competitive spark ignite inside of you again. “well, i guess you just have to find the right one. could be anyone, even people you just met.” you try to play it nonchalantly, hoping that double-handing his wet cock would distract him.

he was beyond speechless at this point, moans drawn out by means of your sloppy strokes. you swear you can hear his heartbeat behind the barrier when you lean your head closer to suck him off again. you moan along with him, drawing out every breath of yours as you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock every time you come down. your hand twists and strokes the remaining few inches that isn’t violated by your tongue and mouth, following your mouth like a reel as your intent to make him cum is fervent more than ever.

it hurts. your mouth hurts by how large your client is and tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself back from gagging. but you don’t stop yourself because you’ll know it’ll be worth it. your endeavor to please him to the fullest has you drowning out his groans into white noise and you can barely register the fact that you’ve been on paused for a while now. you find yourself in a closer position than before, where your mouth is open, lips fully pressed around the carved hole as the superhero fucks into your mouth, fucks into your gags like you’re his personal flesh light. you didn’t care how dirty you looked, how you had saliva and spittle dripping out from the corners of your mouth and onto the floor. who would see? and you didn’t care that you were too preoccupied to touch your dick right now, because you know you’ll be thinking about this very moment for the rest of your life. and right now, you didn’t know if you wanted to be covered in his cum or to have your mouth be filled with it.

remaining in this position, you glance your teary eyes up at his grip over the barrier again. the strength in his grasp forms small cracks in the material of the barrier and that was the sign you knew you fulfilled your sense of purpose.

“christ, i’m going to come-“ your eyes shut again and you breathe through your noise, bracing for impact. he pushes his cock down your throat and hits that sore spot one last time before unloading his cum into your mouth with a stifled groan. warm, hot seed quickly fills you up and you pull your head back an inch to fully enclose your lips around his cock, ensuring none escape your lips.

in a heartbeat, you swallowed it all. his warm cum coats the back of your throat like medicine and you moan around his cock at the taste, intoxicated. you made sure to lick every inch of his cock clean, calmly slurping any saliva and cum that threatens to leave your mouth as you pull back up with a soft pop, swallowing the remaining remnants of his stress away.

“t-thank you. i needed that…” he pulls his softening cock out, careful in avoiding the hole as he was still sensitive. “did you need a tissue or anything? i think i have one somewhere…” you can hear him rummage through what you can only assume would be his bag and you find it charming, a quiet laugh leaving your swollen lips as you lean back onto your elbows to take a breather and stretch your legs out.

“no, no. i’m okay. i, uh, don’t think i wasted a drop.” you proudly brag, only for him to respond with a shy chuckle. you watch him tidy himself through the hole from a leaned back view, occasionally tilting your head in various angles to see if you could catch a glimpse on who the mysterious superhero is, but the barrier remains an obstruction to your view.

“well then, i… uh… thank you for your service.” he covers up the silence with another laugh and you join in, re-adjusting his pants and belt before turning his back towards you and heading out the booth. “i’ll try not to be late next time.”

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[rineptune]

differently.

summary: angel dust catches the attention of an esteemed monarch from lust ring.

warnings: explicit dialogue and description, foul language, references to drugs, sex, and alcohol, please be mindful of the content you consume.

a/n: this is how my oc (yve) meets angel dust after ep 8, but you could imagine this as yn bcs it isn’t too detailed aside from the fact that yn (reader) is a hybrid between a scorpion and dragon demon. if this gets a certain amount of notes i might make a part 2 idk

“what got dollface runnin’ around like a headless goose so early in the morning?”

“oh! a friend of hers is visiting, and i heard he’s the baddest boy,” niffty giggles, tracing her finger on a freshly honed kitchen knife she got from the kitchen. distracted by the enthusiasm for the arrival of the “baddest boy,” angel dust took the opening to discreetly pry the utensil from her hand and placed it by the shelf.

angel dust yawns, taking a seat on the lounge chair. “charlie’s friend’s comin’?”

“not just my friend, you guys!” charlie tells them in a haste, “my bestest friend— we go way back; ever since we were in diapers.”

“bestest isn’t really word used, babe.”

angel dust passively shrugged, turning to vaggie. “and have you ever met charlie’s ‘bestest friend’ before?”

“no, but he does call and listen to her ramblings weekly,” vaggie answered. “and i heard he helped fund the hotel’s initial renovations when charlie inherited the mansion from her parents.”

“oh? we talkin’ rich sugar daddy here?”

“is money the only thing that you heard?”

“mm, maybe,” angel dust replied.

•

it’s not until later, past lunchtime, that their show-and-tell activity was disrupted by the new guest.

“oh, yeah~ daddy!”

“and this is my favorite episode of my ‘interrogation turned ravage session’ series because it’s the last one we had to do for the whole franchise,” angel dust shared with a toothy grin. “my co-star’s dick was average at best, but he did the stamina, which made up for his lackin’ technique.”

“that’s a very nice insight, angel,” charlie smiles awkwardly, cowering behind the decorative pillow.

“can we, uhm, have the next presenter, please?”

“can’t we just turn the tv off?” vaggie rolls her eyes.

“hm. ‘interrogation turned ravage session?’ that series won an award for longest screentime per episode, if i recall,” a new voice says, eliciting a surprised scream from charlie as she jumped into her girlfriend’s arms.

“who the fuck are you?” husk rose from his seat.

there you stood, indifferent to their semi-shocked and confused gasps and murmurs.

“my apologies for suddenly entering your hotel without notice, lie-lie—” you bowed slightly. “you weren’t answering your phone nor heard our knocking on your front door.”

your eyes met his, though they didn’t linger too long because charlie almost tackled you to the ground.

angel dust is left stunned.

satan, who is this?

“yn! you’re late; we thought you weren’t coming!”

“the train got delayed at the border, but all is well as i’m already here, hm?”

introductions went like a breeze, and now it was angel dust’s turn to be greeted by you. he had to admit that you had the sex appeal. it’s only natural that he had to flirt with you.

“and this is angel dust! one of our guests,” charlie says.

“nice to meet you, handsome,” angel dust greets, imitating a claw with his hands as he lets out a soft, seductive growl.

“i’m thrilled to meet you in person, angel dust.”

you took his hand—delicately and with absolute care, if he may add—placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. the gesture sends a flurry of butterflies coursing throughout his whole body, rendering him speechless and flabbergasted for seconds.

“i— uh, yeah, nice to meet ya. fan of my work?” angel dust recalls how you mentioned his series won an award— and not just any reward— the lust-stringed award that was usually reserved for media made from lust ring.

he just so happened to win the award because of the landslide of votes this year.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “if i were to be honest, i had no clue what your name was until now, but i only heard of your published shows through my secretary.”

“oh,” angel dust smiled awkwardly. “shame.”

“ah, my apologies if this puts an awkward tension between us.”

“it’s fine, not everyone recognizes a star from this side of the pentagram,” he tells you, relaxing back on the couch.

charlie and the others were gone by now, possibly giving the two a moment as they went to their separate businesses.

“what’re you doin’ here anyways?”

“i just wanted to pay lie-lie a visit,” you answered. “she was insistent that i travel from divine downtown to pentagram to meet you.”

“me?” angel dust perks up a bit.

“all of you here in the hotel, i’m sorry if i didn’t make it clear.”

embarrassment creeps at the back of the conversation, and angel dust wishes that it wasn’t this awkward because dear satan, this demon was hot as fuck, but he’s far too polite and nonchalant to have come from lust ring.

but he thinks something is about to come of this.

something new.

something different.

someone tell me how to continue this bcs i only have a vague idea in my head lol

[tragedy-of-commons]

bare (my soul)

kaeya x gn!reader | wc: ~550

tags/warnings: domestic fluff w kaeya's baggage, he's soggy

notes: i love him

“Kaeya, this is egregious.”

You gesture wildly at his barren walls and the desolate living space more fitting of a Favonius jail cell than a home (or so you complained moments earlier).

“Shatter my heart into pieces, why don’t you?” he sighs, then pokes your side in jest. You’re just too adorable not to play around with - even when you’re critiquing his admittedly subpar interior design skills. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on moving in with me?”

“Only because I’m generous enough to consider proximity to your workplace,” you grumble, trying in vain to balance three boxes of your things in your arms at once. “If you had moved in with me, you’d probably have to run a marathon everyday to captain your non-existent cavalry.” Kaeya plucks the top box from your stack, revealing your unimpressed face to him. He grins. “Careful. If you keep saying things like that, I just might think you like me.”

You move to set your boxes down on the floor beside his boring, singular sofa. “I could wax poetic all day about my love for you–” “Oh, I’m dying to hear it, sweetheart–” “–But we seriously need to do something about your.. lifestyle.” You imitate a pompous noble, splaying the back of your hand across your forehead in distress.

Kaeya Alberich has heard many complaints about his lifestyle. Sometimes it’s in the form of Jean criticizing the way he handles certain intel, or the way he ostensibly slacks on the job. Other times, it’s in the form of rumors that he’s especially privy to; Captain Kaeya who loves his drink a little too much, or Captain Kaeya who uses underhanded methods to deal with threats to Mondstadt.

“We’re going furniture shopping at your earliest convenience!” you beam.

Yet you’re just referring to his apartment. What a miracle you are.

He sets the box he stole earlier down, humming thoughtfully. “Is it truly that horrid here?” (It is. He steps out every chance he gets, preferring a noisy tavern or your former place over whatever husk of a building Kaeya Alberich calls “home” these days.) “Yes. Minimalists shall never be forgiven.” “Well, I’d hate to be in your bad books.” Not once do you let him slip away during the unpacking process, practically shoving your trinkets and knickknacks into his hands for him to “make the call” about where they should live. You also sneak into his closet to try and scare him, but the jingle of one of his ornate belts catching on your person gives you away. He throws the doors open with a flourish. When you pout about him being no fun, he just slides in there with you, clicking his tongue and simpering about how you’re such a troublemaker. It’s quiet and you squint through the slits of the closet door at the surrounding bedroom. “Kaeya, I know what’s been missing!” you whisper-yell at him, head knocking against a hanging cape. 

You, he wants to say, It’s always been you. What comes out instead is your voice, effectively cutting him off. “An ugly vase!”

He can get behind that too. Maybe one day he’ll show his full hand, lay out every card, and wait for the swinging axe to take off his head - and maybe you’ll just pull him along to haggle with antique dealers in the name of ironic decoration. “You read my mind, sweetheart.”

[cybsoo2]

soo-bunny

╰┈➤ synopsis — Soobin is the shy bunny you’ve recently adopted. When a storm suddenly strikes, he admits he’s scared to sleep alone. 

╰┈➤ pairing —yandere!bunny-hybrid!soobin x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 1.5k

╰┈➤ content warning — slight guilt tripping. discomfort. nothing much. bros just clingy.

Soobin sits beside you, just like he has every dinner since the day you adopted him. He’s slightly lopsided, leaning into your side with his head hiding in your hair. You both eat an easy meal, too tired from a long work day to make anything from scratch. You stuff your face with food, eager to give into exhaustion already. 

Soobin seems content just to watch you. He eats slowly, letting out a sigh every time he has to slightly shift his position in order to grab another spoonful of soup. He feels warm amongst this cold winter chill. Although, this heat isn’t from the hot meal, but rather the blush you bring to his cheeks. His whole body is burning up, he wouldn’t doubt that if you felt his forehead you’d assume he was feverish. 

Outside your comforting and cozy apartment, the rain continues to run. A storm begins to brew, shooting thunderbolts and lightning strikes from the sky. Every time the thunder sounds, Soobin jumps up from his seat. And with every blazing flash from the sky, he can feel the electricity burn through his body.  He feels the growing fear flutter in his stomach, so he puts down his spoon. Afraid to spill his sickness if he takes another bite. With his hands free, he wraps them around you. Resting his head just below your jaw. His mouth brushes against the bottom of your ear and he mumbles out a quiet question. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Huh? Where is this coming from?” You tilt your head in curious confusion.

“The storm,” He glances over at the window, a cold chill covers his body. He whips his head back to you and continues on with his sentence. “It’s too scary and I don’t want to sleep alone.” He looks down at your lap, slightly shy to be confessing his cowardice. 

The thought of snuggling up to the timid hybrid is not one you’re ever imagined. Your relationship still raw with awkward moments and clumsy conversations. Of course, it isn’t that the big bunny hasn’t clinged to your side every second of every day, but this situation feels different. Much more imitate and impulsive than you’d like. So you stall your answer by taking hold of his trembling hands. You let out a somber sigh and Soobin knows exactly what your answer will be.

He feels a rising panic rush through him. His hands grow cold and clammy. Heart thumping so fast it threatens to break through his bones. Downcast crystals cling to his eyelashes as he blinks back his tears. A sad sniffle slips past him. Already feeling exposed, he stops fighting his fear and turns to look at you. “Please…. Please, please, please. I don’t want to be alone.” 

“... Soobin, I’m not so sure I’m comfortable sleeping with you.” 

“At least let me stay in your room! Please, I’ll sleep in a chair, or even on the floor! Just don’t leave me alone.” His words are rushed, hurrying to spit out anything to make you stay. He peers up at you through his hair, waiting patiently for your reply. He can see every emotion that crosses your features, anxiety, affection, and a little bit of guilt. 

“Well, I guess that would be okay. But I can’t have you sleeping on a chair, that would be just cruel. You can help me set up the air mattress.” You stand up from your seat and direct him to follow. Instantly, he springs up and stumbles on after you. When he catches up to where you stand in front of the closet, he grabs your sleeve and slumps down against you. His head sits on your shoulder, watching you grab the mattress and a mix of blankets. 

You nudge him with your arm and he stares at you with ready eyes. “Hold this for me.” You hand him the mattress while you balance a bundle of blankets. You walk to the bedroom with the heavy weight of a certain bunny against your back. You sit criss-cross on the carpet of your bedroom. Soobin copies you, sitting so close that your knees knock into each other. While you unfold the blankets, he works on blowing up the mattress. 

When you’re both finished, you stand up and stretch. Sleep is beginning to drag you down and a small yawn escapes you. “You tired?” You rub your tired eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. Soobin only hums in response, letting you know he’s ready to go to bed because you are. “Okay, well I’m gonna get into my pajamas and brush my teeth, you should do the same.” He hums again in response and walks off to go get his sleep clothes.

When he walks back into the bedroom, he’s ready to pass out onto the pillows. Then he sees you from the corner of his eye, still washing up and getting ready to sleep, so he walks your way. He doesn’t talk, just sinks into silence. He watches you brush your teeth. Some foam drips down the side of your mouth and he’s quick to wipe it away. He kills time by toying with the stray stings of your sleep shorts. Tying and untying them, even tethering them to strings of his pajama pants.

You finish faster than he expected. Your routine only taking 9 minutes and 22 seconds in total (he counted). The two of you slowly shuffle out of the bathroom. You wander over to where you’ll rest, and crawl under the covers. Of course, this is after taking the time to untie the thread that keeps you connected. You lay down on your bed and snuggle deep into the pillow, all the while Soobin does the same. You shut your eyes and begin your search for the Sandman. 

30 minutes later and the storm still continues its terror. The night sky swims in shades of blue. Black bleeds into the room, holding everything hostage in its dark embrace. You welcome the weather into your arms. The air is just cool enough to sleep comfortably, and the rain is a relaxing melody. 

You’re seconds away from drifting off to sleep when you hear muffled noises next to you. 

“Soobin?... You okay?” Your soft spoken words instantly stop the sniffles. A stilled silence fills the room before you sit up to see him for yourself. You prop yourself up one elbow and peer across the room. He blinks back at you in the dark. The moon shines light on the tears that streak his skin. Hair pulled every which way as if he needed something to hold on to. 

At the sorry sight of him sobbing in the dark, your stubbornness seems to fade away. It only takes a simple wave of your hand, beckoning him to join you on the bed, before he’s swiftly stumbling over to you. He crawls across the bed and lays down on your left side. You let him get settled first before you lay back down. You help him with his struggle in the sheets, pulling the blankets over him and gently pushing his head onto the pillow.

When you drop down onto the bed, you keep a distance at first. However, it doesn’t last long as seconds later Soobin is impatiently tugging you towards him. He shuffles and squirms under the sheets, trying to get you as close as possible. When he settles into a pleasant position, he’s plastered up against your back. His head lays between your shoulder blades. So close you can feel the small breaths he sucks in. His body still shakes with the remenates of fear. He tightens his hold, hugging you like a teddy bear. Two arms wrap around your waist. One hand on your hip while the other frantically searches for your hand to hold. 

Your heart leaps into your throat, breath hitching at his boldness. Having a warm body to keep you company in bed is something you haven’t had in a long time. All of your senses are overloaded with information. Hyper-aware of the heat he emits, how subtly he smells of sugar, and how suffocating the silence sounds. You try to create some space between you, but Soobin lets out a muffled whine and rests more of his weight on top of you. He hooks one leg over your hip and relaxes when you stop your squirming. 

The storm still rages on well into the night. Yet, Soobin sleeps soundly with his sweet savior right by his side. He doesn’t budge when lightning burns through the black air, or even when strikes of thunder shake the building. The only sign that he’s still alive is from the way his tail twitches and he lets out a frustrated huff when you shift slightly too far. 

You don’t sleep for a single second. Too tense under his touch and heart fluttering too fast. When you wake you have no doubt that this night will never be forgotten.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[callmegkiddo]

Can you do a Bayverse of the Transformers reacting to their S/O being flexible and able to pop their bones and bend their back to an unhuman position while standing? I’m like this and I want to see their reaction

Optimus Prime: The noble Autobot leader would look at you with concern first and then with curiosity. "Are you certain that's comfortable? I was not aware that human anatomy could achieve such positions." He'd be careful, though; he's aware humans are still resilient, but around bots like him, please be careful. You want to avoid giving the Prime a spark attack.

Bumblebee: The young bot would probably be fascinated and impressed. He might try to imitate some of your movements, though his frame doesn't allow the same flexibility. "Whoa-- Incredible--! Can you-- teach me-- how to do that?" He'll be super excited to learn but will grow concerned if he hears any of your joints pop. Little bee boy loves his human, okay?

Ironhide: The tough weapons specialist might raise an optic ridge and give a gruff chuckle, amused and impressed with your talent. "Well, I'll be. You, humans, are real helm-turners... Just be careful not to break anything, alright?" He'll drag you Ratchet if he hears a single POP from your bones or joints. No exceptions. He's a rugged bot who still views humans as fragile unless they're soldiers like Lennox.

Ratchet: The Autobot medic would be unamused at first, intrigued sure, humans and their biology and abilities never cease to surprise him. But he'll also get pretty concerned for your well-being. "That can't be good for your joints. Be careful, if you feel any discomfort, let me know. I can't fix a broken human, you know." He's dragging you to Sims for 'repairs' if you sprain something. You are scaring this old bot.

Megatron: The dark leader would likely be more intrigued than concerned. "Fascinating. Your species is more adaptable than I thought. Perhaps there are some useful applications for such flexibility." With your smaller size and flexibility, he'll use you as his little scout. To him, the possibilities are endless when spying on the Autobots. But unfortunately, your safety is also a concern to him. So he has Soundwave send Ravage from time to time to accompany you.

Starscream: The ambitious Seeker might smirk and make a sarcastic comment. "Well, well, aren't you a contortionist? Just be grateful you don't have to transform into a jet-like me. That'd be a real pain." He'd joke you can fold in his cockpit like a piece of paper. He's pretty amused with your talent, and despite his cold and aggressive nature, he's careful to make sure you don't pull a muscle. He knows what it's like.

Soundwave: The silent and analytical Decepticon would observe your movements, stoic and quiet as ever. His visor might flicker slightly, indicating a level of interest. He might even record your unique abilities for future reference. It intrigues him how easily you can bend around like that. It reminds him of Ravage in a way. He will pick you up and place you on his shoulder if you tire yourself out because of it.

(Note: Sorry these requests took so fucking long. I wanted to clear out my inbox)

[tumbleweed-run]

Puppet On a String

(18+, Explicit) Kinktober 2023 Day 14 Selfcest/Cloning

“He’s a bit like a doll,” Gale said looking over at you. 

You were focused on him, well another him. 

“ A puppet?” You offered, hand straying to the necklace you wore. 

Real Gale’s head cocked to the side in consideration before giving a short nod. “Yes, I suppose so.” 

The puppet just stood there in the center of your bedroom and blinked. You hadn’t activated control yet so this very accurate puppet Gale was more or less a lifeless toy. 

You’d met a version of him back in the Shadowlands, one that beckoned you to a clearing and to Gale. It had piqued your interest that night, he’d been corporeal in a way that most mirror images weren’t. But you’d forgotten about him for some time, other things taking precedence. 

After about the tenth question regarding this puppet, Gale had offered to create him. It was more than an incantation, something requiring numerous ingredients to create the shell. You could now appreciate the work Gale had put into him while on the road, all an effort to make that night special. 

The form wasn’t permanent, Gale assumed he’d last about a day unless dismissed. He also couldn’t withstand much in the way of damage, that didn’t matter tonight. Because as soon as Gale had offered to recreate him your mind had turned down a far less academic road. Which Gale had, of course, realized. 

What he didn’t realize was that the reason you wanted to control the puppet was for a far more depraved reason than desiring a two-person threesome. You’d get to that. 

“He’s very accurate,” you mused taking the time to appreciate that little fact. 

The puppet was conjured naked (which explained why he’d worn Gale’s armor that night) and was very accurate in all ways. Gale seemed amused by your reaction. He was also the only one in the room with any clothes on. You’d stripped and climbed onto the bed not long after the puppet was made. 

“So I just repeat the incantation and I’ll be in control of him?” You wanted to be certain.

“One must think in directives but yes,” Gale agreed, but he paused, “Are you sure you don’t wish me to control it?”

You shook your head, “I’m very certain of what I want.”

Your wizard had the sense of mind to look concerned.

You repeated the incantation as Gale had taught you and almost immediately you felt the link. It was not unlike the link the tadpoles had formed between you and the others, this felt more like being linked to emptiness. 

All you had to think was about walking and he did. You were impressed, you’d assumed it would be clumsy like other magical creations but he did a very passable job of imitating Gale. Or maybe that was because your mind had given the puppet that knowledge. It was a strange thought and one you didn’t wish to focus on right now. 

The puppet came to a stop before Gale once more. 

“Shall we start?” Gale asked looking to you. 

You nodded but the puppet didn’t move. 

Gale glanced between the two of you for a moment. “Dear, what exactly did you have in mind?” His voice had risen. 

You did your very best to adapt a wide-eyed pleading look, which was admittedly difficult given how turned on you were getting. With great joy you realized the puppet was doing the same. “I was thinking,” you drawled, “I could watch.”

Gale swallowed harshly. You didn’t know how to read the flush crawling across his skin, he didn’t seem angry though. 

“Do you really think me that conceited?” He asked sounding offended. 

Immediately, you shook your head. “No, it’s not you,” you reminded him rising up on your knees, about to go to him, “It’s me, I control him. So it would just be us, like normal.”

“This is very not normal,” Gale asserted. 

“Is it really any different than when you pleasure yourself?”

“Yes.” Gale was very firm in that belief apparently. 

You pouted. “I want to watch you fuck yourself,” you did your best to make it sound like the most normal request. 

Gale froze and you breathed.

“If I say yes,” he began. 

“Oh please,” you begged. 

“If I say yes, you cannot breathe a word to anyone.” 

“I will keep this locked in my head forever,” you promised. 

Vaguely, you realized Gale was giving in rather quickly. Too quickly. It occurred to you, not for the first time, that this may not be the first time he’d considered fucking himself with this puppet. Or maybe it hadn’t been him those other times, maybe he’d created puppets of someone else. 

Either way, his quick consideration left you with a million questions.  

“He doesn’t feel,” Gale reminded you, “I had considered trying to find a way to give sensation feedback to the controller, but I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Now you were certain he’d at least considered this. 

“He can speak though,” He continued unaware you were on to him, “try.”

You drew on the experience from your former parasite. 

“Hello.” The puppet spoke. 

“Oh,” you said breathlessly, “I can do a lot with this.”

Gale, again, had the sense of mind to appear a bit alarmed by your reactions. You grinned at him, wickedly. 

The puppet reached forward and place a hand on Gale’s hip, fingers holding on loosely to the material of his shirt that hung there. 

“Are you sure?” The puppet spoke. 

Gale was enraptured by the puppet now, eyes skating over its form. Then he nodded, licking his lips as he did. You smiled, and the puppet did as well. Wizards and their egos. 

Gale was unusually passive as the puppet removed his shirt. Not resistant just not participating as you’d hoped. 

“Touch me,” the puppet said, and delighted you realized his intonation changed at your whim. 

Gale’s eyes dashed to yours. You pouted rather dramatically, very careful to not transfer this to the puppet. Gale reached out and resting his hand against the puppet’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it was certainly enough for you to continue. He was pliant as the puppet pulled down his pants, instead of letting them fall to the floor he knelt, guiding them the whole way. 

Gale’s brain may have been unsure, but already his cock was interested. 

The puppet remained kneeling, though he braced his hands on Gale’s thighs, looking up at him. 

Your breath was stolen for a moment, immensely distracted by the tableau in front of you.

Slowly, giving Gale all the time in the world to back out, the puppet leaned towards his cock. When Gale didn’t object, the puppet pulled him into it’s mouth. Gale moaned, his head dropping back. This part would be a little tricky, you realized, normally, this was done by sensation. Not knowledge. 

“I need you to help here,” you warned him, “don’t hold back.”

Gale nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did. 

The puppet began working it’s tongue. Gale moaned, a hand immediately coming up to thread through it’s hair. His hair. 

You drew on every memory where you’d been in the puppet’s place. It seemed enough because Gale was moaning freely. The brief glimpses you caught of his cock when the puppet pulled back confirmed he was completely hard now. 

“This is very, very wrong,” Gale groaned, in contrast to his words though, his grip in the puppet’s hair had tightened. 

You saw an opportunity. 

The puppet pulled back. “Fuck my mouth?” it pleaded, turning overly familiar puppy dog eyes upwards. 

Gale looked down, eyes blown wide before looking to you. “Is that… is that how I sound?” he was torn between the two of you.

You laughed, “yes and no. But,” you supplied helpfully, “that is how you look.”

Gale swore but gripped his cock. He led it back to the puppet who eagerly swallowed it down. Both of Gale’s hand went to it’s hair though he paused. You worked hard to remember the feeling of your own throat when you went pliant below someone. Subconsciously your own muscles did just that. It worked, it seemed, because Gale slowly began thrusting into the puppet’s mouth. 

As you watched Gale fuck his own mouth, you slid your hand between your thighs. Unsurprisingly, you were wet, you had been just at the idea of this little venture. But to see it actually come to life was lighting things within you that could not be normal. 

You’d never been normal. 

Gingerly you began rubbing your clit, careful not to lose focus on the puppet’s controls. You moaned, and then the puppet did. Gale followed, enjoying whatever sensation the sound had brought on. He was fucking into the puppet’s mouth far rougher than he’d ever dared to do to yours. 

You rolled your flattened tongue, imagining the weight of Gale’s cock on it. Gale cursed under his breath, hips slamming into it in a way that would have damaged a real person. 

You were thrilled to see him this uncontrolled. 

“I dont…” Gale began, and immediately, the puppet stopped it’s ministrations with it’s mouth. “I don’t want to come in his mouth,” Gale continued after taking a moment to catch his breath. 

“Do you want to fuck me, or him?” You asked breathlessly. 

“You, always,” Gale answered pulling away from the puppet. 

Quickly, you straightened your legs, and then he was there. Gale’s fingers found your center before he’d even gotten onto the bed. One digit immediately slid into you. 

“You’re so wet,” He said sliding his finger in and out of you, you whined, falling back onto your elbows. “There is so much wrong with us,” Gale said softly before adding a second finger. 

You smiled, happy he hadn’t singled you out in the wrongness of this situation. Instead, it was the two of you together, as it would always be. You moved the puppet behind him, taking care for it to walk noisily so as not to take Gale off guard. 

“Oil on his fingers,” you directed, the puppet lifted it’s hand.

Gale pivoted slightly and then there was as sheen across the puppet’s fingers, dripping down it’s palm. 

“You inside me first” you directed breathlessly.

Gale grabbed your hips and dragged you further down the bed. In the same motion, he slid into you. You moaned. Locking your legs around Gale’s thigh you shook your head in an effort to focus. The puppet inched forward a little and when Gale’s head dropped down into your shoulder you knew you’d been successful. 

For a beat the slick sounds in the room came from only the puppet as he worked his oiled finger into Gale. You felt when he hit home, Gale’s cock twitching inside you. A short time later Gale began to move inside you finally. Almost immediately he was fucking you hard, no doubt slamming his hips back onto the puppet’s fingers. 

You moaned at the thought, desperately wishing you could see. Gradually it became difficult to focus both on the puppet and your own arousal building as Gale fucked into you. 

“Fuck,” You moaned, hand gripping his shoulder as your head fell back onto the bed, “I can’t keep-” 

Whatever else you wanted to say was lost as Gale grabbed your leg to pull it up, thrusting into you deeper now. 

“Let go,” Gale ground out through his teeth. 

And you did. You came with a yell hips snapping up to meet Gale’s. He followed not long after, spilling into you with a groan, head buried into your shoulder. 

As you came back to yourself, you moved the puppet away. Gale keened into your skin as the puppet pulled his fingers from him. You reached up and pulled the necklace from around your neck, it dragged through your sweat-slick skin. 

“I would not be opposed to doing that again,” you said breathily. 

Gale, the real one, groaned. 

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Kara: Good morning! Tristen: Hey-.. you’re extra cheerful today. Kara: Well..! [Kara draped herself over Tristen’s shoulder, whispering to him excitedly for a moment before sliding into her own chair, grinning from ear to ear] Tristen: Really? [Sergio slapped his newspaper, cursing his terrible hearing] Sergio: No whispering at the table! [Kara giggled mischievously as her father chastised her] Kara: I am a grown woman, papa! I do as I please. Xanto: [imitating his father] My roof, my rules. [Tristen swallowed a smirk as Giorgia yelled at her incorrigible children in Tartosan, something about not annoying their father before he finished his coffee] Xanto: Are you coming to the beach today? Tristen: Eh-… Giorgia: You go! Tristen: I guess so-.. isn’t it a bit cold? Xanto: Nah, it’s the first day of spring. Kara: We celebrate! Giorgia: You cannot ignore your work, Xan. Xanto: I think I’m coming down with something… [Xanto groaned and clutched his stomach dramatically] Sergio: Tch, useless boy. Xanto: Rude. Giorgia: You go to work first! Xanto: I took the day off, relax! Tristen made himself useful and cleared the table in silence, though Sergio’s bellowing laughter soon put him at ease. He never knew whether they were joking or arguing once the bickering reached a certain crescendo; but their passion was always palpable, good or bad, and Tristen often wished he could express himself half as well as the Ossani’s…

[icyharrington]

Smuttylicious fic where eddie is obsessed with people hearing you fuck 😁. He loves to give multiple orgasms and overstim you have you screaming and begging for him so everyone can hear he tends to do it on the groups vacation getaways 💦💦💦

okeeee so i just wrote a lil smut based on this ask, basically this exact concept, w/ the reader and eddie on a camping trip w argyle, jonathan, nancy, steve, and robin heehee lol hopefully y'all like :3 it's not much and honestly i feel like my writing has been lacking recently so im srrryyyy if it sucks but yea !!!

contains: dom!eddie, overstimulation, public sex kink (sort of?), exhibitionism, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk

wc: 1.3k

Eddie Munson is a nymphomaniac- you’re certain of it. There’s never a moment he doesn’t want your skin on his, his rough hands in a perpetual state of exploration. He’s insatiable, always willing to go for another round, his energy never depleting when it comes to pleasing you. 

He’s never been one to be discrete about his passions, and that includes his insatiable hunger for you; he shamelessly feels up your ass while you’re out together, reaching up under your tiny skirt to pull at the lace of your thong, and sometimes he’ll put his arm around you just to grope at your chest, grinning when you jump and shoot him a pointed glare. 

Even when you’re out with friends, he doesn’t pause his hormonal antics- partially due to his lack of impulse control, but also because he wants everyone to see that you’re his, see the way your cheeks go red and you start to squirm under his wordless command. It’s a constant, subtle possessiveness he exudes, and although it’s somewhat embarrassing to be blatantly objectified in front of other people, you also find it painfully sexy. 

Sometimes he’ll shamelessly smack your ass or make suggestive comments (one time at Steve's, he’d tossed his lighter on the ground in front of you, jeering, “why don’t you go bend over and get that for me, hon?”), smirking whenever you narrow your eyes or give him a playful shove in retaliation.

“Yeeesh, get a room!”, Steve always says, palm colliding against his forehead with comedic exasperation as the rest of the gang nods along in solemn agreement, though to Eddie, the jokes are nothing but fuel for his perverted little fire. 

When you, Eddie, Steve, Argyle, Jonathan, Robin, and Nancy had first come up with the plan for a camping trip, Robin had cast Eddie a stern look, her eyes dropping to examine his hand on the underside of your ass cheek. “Y’know, I have half a mind to propose that (y/n) and Eddie sleep in separate tents. Do you guys really wanna be kept up all night listening to straight people sex?”

“Oh god,” Steve had murmured, rubbing circles on his temples at the thought. “Remember the night we got trashed and you guys all slept over my place?” 

“How could I forget?” Robin griped back, before letting out a string of obnoxious ooooohhhhh fucccckkkkkkk, Edddddiiiiieeeeeee’s, not actually sounding too far off in her imitation of you.

The interaction had made you blush, avoiding the eyes of your friends who were probably visualizing you, naked, being pounded into brainless pornstar-moaning oblivion. Eddie, on the other hand, had only flashed the group a devilish grin. “Oh, just wait. This time I’m gonna make her cum ten times instead of just five.”

And he wasn’t kidding, though unlike everybody else, you hadn’t believed that he was. 

He hadn’t wasted any time, once everybody returned to their tents for the night, all comfortably sleepy and stoned and drunk; within seconds he was nipping at your neck, taking fistfuls of your curves in his big hands, squeezing hard enough to leave fingerprints, and like always, you just couldn’t bear to stop him. 

Now you’re spread out in front of him, garments discarded in careless heaps across your modest-sized tent, leaving you on display; his head is between your thighs with only his round eyes visible, glinting mischievously as they observe your vulnerable state.

You stopped being able to form cohesive thoughts about three orgasms ago, and it doesn’t seem that he has any plans on letting up soon, his tongue dipping in and out of your folds, fucking you with it. He’s ravenous, with his hands keeping your legs planted firmly apart so you’re unable to interfere. 

You grip his hair, which is knotted and unkempt, your head lolling back against your padded sleeping bag. “Eddie… please, Eddie…”

“Please what, sweetheart? Hmm?” He slides two fingers inside your slick entrance easily, flushed lips wrapping around your clit to suck harshly at it. He loves it when you’re incoherent for him, your sentences fragmented and unfinished, rendered completely stupid. 

“P-please Eddie. Need a break…” you tug at his hair with urgency, trying and failing to move your hips away from him. “S’too much.”

“But baby,” Eddie murmurs against your cunt, the bass of his words reverberating throughout the rest of your sweat-soaked body. “You taste so fuckin' good.”

A broken moan sounds out from your parted lips, and you’re unsure if you even really want him to stop. Sure, you’re overstimulated and sensitive, with every touch from Eddie magnified a thousand times over, but there's just something so fucking addicting about the way he touches you. 

“Edddieee…Eddie, I don’t want them all to hear me,” you persist, frowning as you realize how much teasing you’re going to endure tomorrow; he’s been going at it for over an hour now, making you mindlessly scream and beg and whimper as you grind desperately on his face- it’d be a miracle if nobody at the campsite heard you by now.

“But why not, babe?” Eddie questions, between purposeful licks at your oversensitive clit. “You sound so fuckin’ hot. I bet you’ve got all the guys so hard right now. Probably stroking their dicks as we speak.”

“Eddie,” you gasp as he applies intense suction to your defenseless clit, increasing the pace of his fingers as they fuck you. “F-fuck, Eddie!” 

He trails his free hand up to palm at your heaving tits, tweaking and tugging your peaked nipples until they sting. “I bet Robin likes hearing you too. Wonder if she’d ever wanna join us some time?” 

He’s so unabashedly filthy, and it turns you on more than you’d care to admit; you lick your lips, breath lodging in your throat when Eddie raises one of your legs to hoist over his lean shoulder.  “E-eddie, please.” 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. You let everybody know who that pussy belongs to,” he grins, curling his fingers inside of you. “That feel good, hmm?”

“Y-yes, Eddie,” you choke out, hoarse and gravelly, your resolve completely undone. “So fucking good…”

“Know it’s a lot for you, baby. You’re being such a good girl, yeah?” he hums his praise affectionately, maintaining contact with your clit, which he proceeds to swirl his tongue against. “You can gimme a few more orgasms, can’t you, sweetheart?” 

“I- I think so…” you murmur, your eyes fluttering as you teeter at the brink of climax, your thighs trembling as they wrap snugly around your lover. 

He poises a brow, lifting his head a bit so you can see the arousal glinting crudely on his chin. Tilting his head, he gives you a disapproving, “You think?” 

You know from his expression to correct yourself, stirring your hips back and forth to gain a bit of traction now that he’s stilled his fingers inside of you. “I-I know I can give you more orgasms, Eddie. I will.” 

You know that you’ve just sealed your fate with the declaration, but you’ve accepted it; he jerks you forward, diving back into your heat as his fingers curve within the narrow walls of your pussy, making sharp contact with your g-spot.

You cry out, writhing your hips as he pounds into you fast, each thrust of his fingers angled with well-learned precision.  “That’s my girl. C’mon, I know you can be louder than that.” 

He’s such a fucking asshole, encouraging you to humiliate yourself further, but you’re too whipped to do anything but comply. Tossing your head back, you call out his name over and over, voice pitched and whiny and surely loud enough for all of Hawkins to hear. 

He doesn’t stop, but he does take a brief moment to meet your eyes, a smile detectable even with his features partially obscured. 

“Thaaaat’s my girl.” 

[softmaki]

a taken risk

summary; whilst luis was out, your boyfriend convinced you to giving him oral despite your fears of a certain someone returning and catching you.

w/c: 1.3k

c/w; gn reader (if there’s any gendered terms that slipped by lmk please!!), oral (m. receiving), facefucking, extremely tiny powerplay, some degradation + praise, one (1) singular whimper from leon, caught at the end. if I missed any tell me :)

a/n; no mention of y/n!! extremely poorly written, I’m so so sorry for that </3. I did have fun whilst doing this but I’m also sorry for any impending cringe/secondhand embarrassment. ending can pretty much be open; if you want to react a certain way you’re free to imagine it or maybe you’d even like luis to join!

“leon, we can’t,” you hiss. your brows furrow as you make eye contact with your boyfriend. “luis will be coming back inside at any moment, do you seriously want to risk it?”

he hums briefly, almost seemingly in thought until he follows it up with a smirk directed your way all too quick. and you know very well from previous experience what that expression meant.

“you can’t be serious,” you groan, crossing your arms. your hand finds it’s way to press slightly at your temple for a split second before grunting at his antics and walking towards him.

“made up your mind, doll?”, he teases. he leans back in his chair and turns his body to face you, moving his right hand to rest on his thigh whilst leaving his left on the table.

this is by far not an unfamiliar situation to you. what is, however, is the possibility of someone being able to walk in on you two so easily and catch full sight. and you suppose you should feel upset at the thought of getting caught, though you only find it strangely enticing.

you kneel down in front of leon and your arms quickly raise up to fumble with his buckle, feeling the familiar leather under you fingers and sighing to yourself. in your rush to get to his dick you find yourself struggling with the belt an uncharacteristic amount.

“slow down, doll. ‘m not going anywhere.”

you roll your eyes as you look up at him and give him an unamused stare, quickly focusing back on his belt. he chuckles at your dismissal but bites back a groan as you successfully manage to tug open his belt and zipper and palm him roughly.

“mm, i guess so. but i’d rather not have someone walking in on us, y’know?”

he gives you a lazy grin, finding amusement in your justifiable fear, though also harbouring a knowing glint in his eye that just screams ‘i know the idea of getting caught is turning you on’.

you huff at him before tugging down his boxers just enough to free him from his confinements yet you quickly get to work. your hand wraps firmly around his shaft as you start to give him some slow pumps, licking your lips at the sight. you admire the sight as you feel his warm skin beneath your fingers, and you find the pretty shade of pink that his tip has turned awfully pretty.

he releases a sigh of pleasure, so faint your ears barely pick up on it. you smile slyly at him before looking up to lock eyes with him. your hand doesn’t stop it’s rhythm, instead running your fingertip around his slit and rubbing some of the oozing precum down his shaft, subtly picking up in pace as his hooded eyes lock onto you.

“weren’t you the one insisting we hurry up, sweetheart? what happened to that, huh?”

“who knows,” you giggle, furrowing your brows briefly to imitate an innocent expression on your face. “maybe i’ve decided to take my time. is that so bad, mr. kennedy?”

he opens his mouth to retort something, yet he’s caught slightly off-guard as soon as he feels a wet warmth on his cock for a brief moment. you repeat the action, your tongue jutting out ever so slightly to lick at his slit and tease him as you lap up the salty and bitter fluid, rewarding you with a deep hum in the process. you feel somewhat bad though for going slow, so you give him a few preparatory kisses along his shaft along with a few more pumps before gently resting his tip on your tongue. you keep your eye contact with him going, and he whispers something below his breath before letting his right hand reach down to tug your hair up so he can hold it tightly in his hand.

you know what’s about to come next, and as you don’t want him to win in this imaginary competition, you bob your head down suddenly. you only reach about half way down, not because that’s your limit, but because you still don’t want him to get what he yearned for so soon. even if it meant taking longer than you would’ve liked. you keep your hand wrapped around his base and you give him a firm squeeze as you lift your head up.

yet you don’t fully lift your head. his tip is now resting at the back of your tongue and you can feel his hand now gaining control over you. the hair he tightly holds in his fist provides ample support in him tugging your head back to hold it in place as he slowly starts to thrust up into your mouth.

you lock eyes with him for the third or so time tonight and you let him thrust as deep as he’d like. your hands have moved to rest on either side of you on his thighs, grip tightening as his pace picked up.

“just like that, huh. relinquished all your control like that,” he moans. “what a fuckin’ whore.”

you try to retort something, though it’s proving futile as he currently has reign over your mouth. the chair squeaks below him as his thrusts pick up in vigour, and you can start to feel him reaching the back of your throat and the feeling of his balls slapping against your chin is noted somewhere deep down in your brain.

“mmf!”, you manage to get out. the vibrations of your pitiful attempt at speech on his dick left him gasping for air for a second, though he soon regains himself and tightens his grip on your hair further.

a mix of your saliva and his precum started leaking out of the corner of your mouth, and unbeknownst to you his heart soared at the sight. his pretty partner on their knees, his dick in their throat as they drool around him. a true sight for sore eyes if it was up to him.

you quickly realised the effect both your attempted speech and believably outward appearance had on him so you started moaning around his dick more, now also flattening your tongue against him and hollowing your cheeks to provide him with more suction. as according to some plan, his thrusts picked up further in pace, which is something you didn’t even know was possible at the moment. what was shocking though, was the small whimper that left his throat.

his tempo hiccups slightly, though he stabilises himself and releases a deep moan. whether it was an attempt to cover up the whimper or a genuine outlet of his pleasure, you wouldn’t know. either way, between the ways his rhythm started becoming erratic, the longer and louder moans, his head falling back and his eyes screwing shut as he panted, you knew he was reaching his climax.

“fuckin’ slut. look at you, so pretty with my dick shoved down your throat,” he spews. “bet you want my cum down your throat too, huh.”

you couldn’t nod as he held your head tightly in place, so you release a particularly loud hum around him in response. he groans once again, and a smirk covers his handsome face as his pace starts becoming more twitchy.

only a minute or two after that does he actually release, his hand shoving your head down until your nose is buried into his neatly trimmed hair and you can feel his warm cum fill your throat as he releases a particularly long moan of relief. his grip on your hair finally loosens, and you splutter around him trying to contain all of the fluid.

it’s also at this time that the door swings wide open. your eyes widen as you look above the table between you and the door and see luis standing in the doorway, bewildered. leon’s release was far too much for you to hold it all in, and some ends up spilling out of the corners of your mouth, trickling down your chin. leon seems indifferent, his left hand that remained at rest on the table waving up in some half-assed attempt at a wave to luis.

“guess i’ve interrupted something important then, eh?”

a/n; I’m apologising again. not proofread properly either and for him being a bit ooc D: