#preferably without you removing them from your body

[beastyeastfreak]

PLEASE SILENT SALT HEADCANONS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS, LITERALLY ANYTHING SMUT YANDERE FLUFF IDC..

YEAAAAAAH

im doing something short because im busy with my j*b and lowkey demotivated #savemefromhell

The first half will be regular headcanons and the second will be nsfw

Cw and tags: Romantic, silent salt has a cool horse, theyre kinda a typical knight, nsfw, souljam play, clothed sex, GN! Reader, both reader and ssc have ambiguous genitalia

Written before the silent salt update, purely speculative, watch all of this become inaccurate once theyre out

Normal headcanons

🗡️ - Silent salt is a being of solitude, after whatever occured which caused them to become a beast they became the furthest from the group. They inwardly dislike their fellow beasts, the second they see fit to not be around them, they will take the first chance to leave. Their land is as quiet as they are, it echoes with focus and loneliness. Whenever you arrive, witnessing a land dark and barren, you are loud. It doesn’t matter if you are quiet as a mouse, you are loud.

🗡️ - However you manage to even get Silent Salt to willingly stay in your presence is a mystery. Though trying to get them to save you in order to get closer is fruitless, one a light of Solidarity they now would rather be a bystander or the cause of the issue. So what would attract silent salt? A common goal, a similar attitude, or battle prowess that can withstand their own. Despite now disliking the thought of standing as one unit, if you can prove them wrong and stand with them or help them in some way, they may just try to find out more about you.

🗡️ - Their other interests may include, strangely enough, music. Just because it’s a land of silence doesn’t mean you cant listen to a good playlist sometimes. If you want to do be around them, go on a patrol with them. They wont talk but they love to hear you speak while you both ride on their horse together. It gives them the opportunity to be close with you without seeming like theyre returning to their ways.

🗡️ - I think theres no cookie beneath that armor in the sense they lost their ability to connect with others. Whether that represents physically and there is no true cookie body beneath the metal and just a living suit of armor or there is one, they dont want to be seen. Being seen allows another to see themselves in them, to connect, to feel for them. They want to be seen as a machine, unfeeling and cold. But when they hold you and place their helm against you, you feel the warmth, you know a soul remains just deep within.

🗡️ - They definitely try to kiss you, emphasizing try. They either forget they have a helmet on and get caught up in the moment or simply cannot remove the helmet/their head is the helmet and you have to kiss that. Either way, kissing them earns their heart quickly because it shows you don’t mind it and still see them for them. They make up for not being able to do things like that with gifts. Anything from roses from the garden of delights to foods from the farthest kingdom, they will get for you.

Nsfw headcanons below

🗡️ - BOTTOM next question. After years of isolation they would prefer you take the lead, also i doubt they got around much even before they turned. That being said they are very pent up but are always quietly handling it, so when you come around its a huge change to them. They don’t say anything, but you know when they’re ready, they make it pretty clear through body language. This isn’t to say they wont take control, they’re strong and they’d want to use that strength in bed at least once.

🗡️ - Whatever genitalia they have, i dont think matters. If you believe in the ‘just a living suit of armor’ theory like me your next bet is the souljam. They’ll invite you onto their lap after a drawn out fight, slumped slightly. Under the guise of taking care of them, you run your hands over them while whispering lovely little words against their helmet. They flinch as you run over their souljam located around their mid chest with plates of armor molded around it. What sounds like a night breeze wafting through a creaky metal roof is the only way to describe the noise made, their back arching towards you.

🗡️ - While you caress and press along the crystal in repeating motions their souljam, their hands will explore along you, maybe accidentally ripping your clothes a bit but eventually reaching into groping. They’ll enjoy it if you talk them through it, but if they’re in control they’ll try to keep you quiet. Fingers grabbing against your sex while they stand from behind, edging when they feel like it. Their other hand, still armored, rests on your mouth to keep you shut up. Especially funner if you’re in a place with thin walls or where someone could hear.

[timeflow]

jumps out of a large cake to surprise you. hi terezi timeflow happy birthday :0)

yaaaay thanks mabel :33 can I eat the cake pieces that are stuck to you please

[wonustars]

Your Cat Loves You (Ft. Norbert)

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 pairing: kim mingyu x f. reader 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 genre: fluff, smut (R: 18+ mdni) 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 wordcount: 2.8k

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃summary: you and mingyu finally have a moment to yourselves, or so you thought... 𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃 tags/smut warnings: the way of the house husband couple, husband!mingyu, wife!reader, norbert is a silly little menace, dom!mingyu, brat-ish!reader, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dryhumping, facefucking, big dick!mingyu. 𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃note: part 1 of the winter event is dedicated to @onlymingyus, ily sm marsie pie ♡! thank you to my two beta-readers! @ylangelegy and @junkissed, ily boaf what the flip!! special thanks to @cheolism and @wooahaeproductions for helping me w brainstorming ideas as well! i missed writing this couple so i hope you all enjoy hehe. lmk what you think of this one thru a reblog or a comment! see u in the next installment! - anna ♡

𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃event masterpost

“I'm horny,” you pout as you place the book you’re reading down on the bedside table. 

Mingyu walks out of the connected bathroom, towel slung around his waist, eyes wide, staring at the way your figure lays sensually along the mattress. 

You’re turned onto your stomach, his large t-shirt draped over your body, the curve of your ass peeking through the bottom hem. Mingyu’s mouth runs dry, contemplating a response to your outcry of desperation. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he shrugs. 

The aforementioned towel is thrown across your bedroom with unbridled abandonment. Jumping onto the bed, he grabs your hips, turning you around as he straddles your torso. 

Calloused hands grasp onto your wrists, pinning them above your head. Mingyu dives in without much afterthought, connecting his plump lips onto yours. Raw and unashamed, there's vigour behind his actions, swallowing your lustful moans in the process. 

Unfortunately for you, there’s an abrupt pause. Mingyu pulls away from you, a frown along his swollen lips. 

“Where’s Norbert?” 

“I want your cock inside me and you’re busy thinking about the cat?” You roll your eyes, huffing out with annoyance. 

“I don’t want him seeing us,” Mingyu mumbles before standing up to check the door. 

A disgruntled groan leaves your lips. Leave it up to your husband to worry about the cat in the most compromising of situations. In other circumstances, this would’ve endeared you, but your body has been brimming with sexual tension. A tension that only Mingyu can resolve.

“Last time I checked he was sleeping in his room,” you sigh, sitting up to admire the dragon tattoo on Mingyu’s back. 

You never get tired of the black ink that adorns his skin, eyeing the way it creeps up onto his shoulders. It’s like a sweet treat every time. 

He peeks into the hallway and nods shortly after being met with the still air outside your room. No cat ready to scratch at his chest or steal his spot on your bed. As soon as he has confirmation that Norbert isn’t looming in the shadows of the long hallway, he rushes to lock the door before flopping back onto the mattress. 

Sitting against the headboard, he pulls you onto his lap, the unamused expression on your face vanishes as you feel his rock-hard length against your bare cunt. Mingyu’s groans are guttural as you hump himself along his member. Wet and ready for him to finally take you. 

“You done being paranoid?” your question comes out breathless as you continue to stimulate the nerves between your thighs. 

“Uhuh,” Mingyu mumbles. 

Large hands travel under the hem of your shirt, rubbing and squeezing your flesh before he reaches your tits. Full in his hands, he pulls the fabric till it hits your chin, perked nipples placing him in a trance. Mingyu's mind swirls as he tweaks each one between his fingers, your breath becoming ragged as his pace starts to quicken. 

The shirt you’re wearing becomes a nuisance quickly after, even though he enjoys seeing you in his clothes, Mingyu prefers when you’re wearing nothing at all. Removing the tee from your body, he drinks in your figure. 

“Fuck, this pussy is always soaking,” Mingyu mutters, eyes glued to where your bodies are connected. 

“Been trying to get to you fuck me all day,” you whimper. 

He chuckles at your desperation. Even though only two of you live in this large house, alongside your gremlin of a cat, Mingyu has found it hard to get you moaning underneath him for about a week. 

Norbert had been the number one culprit as to why you and Mingyu haven’t been able to fool around for the past few days. It started with your cat barging into your room right before anything other than a few innocent pecks were exchanged between the two of you. 

You don’t know how he’s learnt to turn door knobs, but his curiosity had been never-ending since you and Mingyu made things official. Then he started to drag Mingyu’s clothes into his litterbox. 

Neither of you knew what had caused Norbert’s spur of rebellious attitude, but you’ve slowly learned how to deal with it. Now the door to Mingyu’s closet remains locked, and you also make it a habit to lock the bedroom door each night as well. 

The sexual frustration between you and Mingyu had become so palpable that you’ve woken up to his morning wood four out of seven times this week. There have been a few blowjobs and hand stuff here and there, but you haven’t had his dick inside you for what feels like an eternity. You’re almost convinced that your cunt has forgotten what it feels like to be filled by him. 

In all honesty, you just miss the way his cum would spurt inside you every night. 

For the first time in a while, Norbert wasn’t needy for your attention, and you’d be damned to not take the opportunity while it was still in front of you. 

“God I need it so bad,” you whine. 

Nuzzling into Mingyu’s neck, your hips continue to sway back and forth, the slick between your thighs starting to coat your legs and his pelvis. 

“It’s been too fucking long,” Mingyu hums, hands tracing the curve of your ass. 

Moaning into his skin, you feel his palms squeeze the flesh with an iron grip. Forcing the fat to shake with the force of his touch. His free hand still groping your left tit. 

Mingyu almost blacks out, your hole catching his tip with each move you make. He can’t have you on top any longer. Thoughts of using you like his own personal sex doll rampage violently, his fully hard length starting to leak precum with your increasing pace. 

“Think you can take me without any prep?” he asks, and your legs visibly shake at his words. 

“I-I don’t know, probably not, you’re fucking massive.” 

A laugh bubbles up from his throat; he’s never fucked you without at least stretching you out first. But the thought is too tempting to not try at least once. 

“Willing to try for me, baby?” He whispers in your ear. 

“Mhm, I’ll do anything. Just need you inside me,” you whimper. 

“That’s my girl.” 

A hard slap comes down onto your ass, the skin stinging in a way that's both painful but so delicious at the same time. Your mouth almost waters at how good he feels against you, and he barely even touches you. 

“I’ll give it to you. But—” Mingyu starts but you cut him off. 

“But?” your pitch raises, not liking how he’s continuing to drag out the foreplay. 

“But you suck me off first.” 

“Fuck, really? That's it? Can't we do that after? I need you now,” you continue to whine, pretending like your walls aren't gushing at the idea. 

It doesn’t hurt to act spoiled once in a while. 

“You’re gonna suck me off or I’m not fucking you tonight.” Mingyu’s voice is stern. You can’t help but hide the smirk on your face. 

The pout on your lips is instantaneous. You need to see how far you can take the brat persona before Mingyu’s fed up. Hopefully, it leads to him flipping you over and fucking you into the next universe.

“But don’t you wanna fuck me now? It’s been too long,” you sigh, halting your movements to rub your hands against his muscular chest.

Your fingertips flow with appreciation for the hard muscle under your touch, his nipples erect as you swipe over them briefly. 

Mingyu’s eyebrows scrunch together, jaw slack as you continue to feel him up. Moving over to his biceps you give them a squeeze before peppering kisses along his collarbones then at the base of his neck. 

Entranced by your touch, Mingyu almost loses focus on who's really in control here. Almost. 

Throwing you off his lap, he stands at the edge of the bed. His cock bobs from how stiff he’s gotten from a bit of rubbing. Tip red and angry, the veins along his shaft almost look like they’re about to burst from all your teasing. 

“On your knees. Now.” He tells you, tone unwavering. 

With a defeated huff, you gingerly move towards the end of the bed. Your knees cause the mattress to dip, your hips in the air, giving him a little show of your ass. Mingyu’s jaw clenches, trying his best not to fold from seeing your body in such compromising angles. 

“Like this baby?” You look up at him as you prop yourself up with your elbows. 

“Good girl. Stay put for me, yeah?” 

You smile at his words of affirmation, one hand against the sheets while your other hand grips his length. There’s something about his dominating aura that radiates off of him when you’re about to blow him, it’s addicting. 

Placing his cock against your cheek, your eyes become doe-like as you stare up at him through your lashes.  

“See how big you are?” you mumble, the tip almost hitting your lashes as it’s pressed to the side of your face. 

“Fuck me…” Mingyu drawls out, unable to comprehend how sexy you look in this angle. 

Fisting your hair in his hands, he’s had enough of your attitude. Your jaw opens as if it's second nature, tongue shooting out, waiting for him to use your mouth like a fleshlight. He taps the tip against your tongue before tracing it around your pink lips. You look like an absolute dream. 

Without a second left to waste, he shoves the entirety of himself into your warm mouth, fucking it until your throat restricts and your gag reflex emerges. Groaning from above you, Mingyu continues to push your head up and down the length of his pulsating cock, relishing in the warmth that envelopes him. The heat sears into his veins, culminating before it spreads throughout his limbs. 

“Yeah, keep taking this cock,” Mingyu groans, fingers tightening around the strands of hair in his grasp. “Bet you love getting your mouth fucked, huh?” 

You moan in response to the filth spilling from his mouth. With furrowed eyebrows, you do your best to breathe through your nose in an attempt to keep yourself from gagging further. 

Mingyu’s thrusts slow down, not wanting to bust a nut until he’s inside that sopping cunt of yours. You know he’s saving the best for last as he removes himself from your mouth with an audible pop. 

“Turn around.” He grunts, but you don’t move. 

As you catch your breath, Mingyu tsks at your reluctance to do what he asks of you. Slapping your cheek, he wakes you from your cock drunk trance. 

“What did I say? You were begging for me to be inside you less than ten minutes ago,” He laments. 

“I’m tired. You do it,” your smile hidden. 

He’s right where you want him. 

You continue to lay there, waiting for him to give up and take matters into his own hands. Without missing a beat, he grapples you until your ass is up in the air. The view of your glistening folds welcoming him as if he’s carved out a special place for his cock inside you. The familiar sheen of your arousal and puffed-up clit greet his length as you wiggle your hips for him. 

The smack of skin resounds against the walls of your room, your pussy clenching around nothing as Mingyu continues to hit your cunt until the juices gush past your entrance. 

“Holy fu-uck,” you choke out, face slamming into the mattress. 

Hands clutched onto the sheets, your eyes squeeze shut as you feel Mingyu’s tip tracing around your hole. Smearing the wetness seeping from your folds before you hear him spit onto your leaking pussy. 

“Hmph, shit!” you squeak, the heat of his spit dripping down the expanse of your sex. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Mingyu praises you before plunging his cock into your awaiting warmth. 

The stretch is nearing unbearable, and the pain of his cock filling you almost causes you to pass out. But it’s satisfying all at the same time. He’s only halfway in, but your breath labours, chest heaving as you continue to take what he gives you. 

“So tight, you’re squeezing me like crazy,” Mingyu gasps, vision turning white as he continues to force himself inside you. Your moans increase in pitch as Mingyu bottoms out. Filling your walls till the hilt of his cock is pressed up right against your ass cheeks. Warm palms grope at your skin, slapping and squishing the flesh till handprints begin to appear. 

“G-gyu, please I need you to move. Fuck, I could cum right now,” you whine, squeezing his length involuntarily from how unprepared you are to take him. 

He agrees to your request without another word. Pulling back till only the tip of his cock is left only to ram his hips back into you. The sound of skin on skin hitting one another fills the room. Mingyu’s speed is steady as he thrusts in and out of you. 

The moans you let out almost sound as if you’re in pain, but it’s the complete opposite. Pleasure courses through your veins until you feel it in your toes, you’re a-dick-ted to the feeling of having him inside you. 

“You wanna cum? Show me how much you deserve to cum on this cock, baby,” Mingyu speaks through strained groans. 

Relishing in your wetness, he knows he’s about to fill you with his seed. His balls retract with each movement he makes, he can only wish to stay inside you forever. 

Without anything stopping you, your pussy convulses around him as you orgasm. The breath is knocked out of your chest, your fingers still wound tightly around the threads of your bedsheets. 

“I fucking love you, baby,” Mingyu practically wheezes, moving his hand to push your head further into your sheets. 

The flood of semen fills your walls, so much so that it dribbles past your entrance and onto both his dick and the bed beneath you. There’s so much, and it’s like his climax is never ending, cum continuing to shoot itself into your needy cunt.

Panting, you allow yourself to flop unceremoniously onto the bed. Tired and finally ready for bed, you wait for Mingyu to dislodge himself from you. A whimper leaves your lips as he finally unsheaths his softening member from your heat. His touch is as soft as a mouse, he pushes the hair out of your eyes before kissing your temple. 

“You did so good, baby. I’m gonna clean you up okay?” 

“Okay, baby,” you whisper. 

Unsure of how many seconds have passed, Mingyu comes back with a warm cloth. He wipes you and himself clean before moving you so that you’re lying on the bed properly. 

“We needed that,” he says in hushed chuckles. 

“I agree,” you laugh along with him. 

Right as you’re about to close your eyes, the door creaks open. The small shadow of your cat catches the candle's light by the TV stand. The pitter-patter of Norbert's paws fills the once-quiet room. 

Turning to Mingyu, your expression is evident that you’re ready to scold him for not locking the door. But before you can get a word in he’s already defending his case. 

“I promise, baby, I locked the door. I'm serious, please don’t kill me.” Mingyu pleads, hiding himself in your bare chest. 

“Kim Mingyu. If you locked the door, then Norbert wouldn’t be here right now,” you explain. 

Mingyu sighs, his warm breath leaving goosebumps against your skin. And he continues to swear that he really did lock the door, and even checked thrice to make sure it was secure. 

Norbert meows out, hopping onto the bed before scratching into Mingyu’s back. 

“What the fuck! Ow!” He yelps, Norbert’s claws continuing to paw at him. 

Defeated, Mingyu moves away from you. The pout on his lips accentuates as he’s forced to sleep beside your demon cat. Norbert’s scratching ceases at his surrender, moving into his rightful spot between you and Mingyu. 

Purring with satisfaction, the pleased cat purrs against you, nose nuzzling into your side. 

“Goodnight baby,” you murmur. 

The blanket is pulled up to your chest, your body facing the small cat perched at your left side. His eyes were round yet also filled with knowing. As if he did have the capability to somehow unlock the door to your bedroom from the outside. Knowing Mingyu’s forgetfulness, you decide that it’s simply not possible. 

“Goodnight,” Mingyu replies wistfully, but you send him a pointed look. 

“I’m talking to Norbert, Gyu.” 

“Whatever.” he huffs at your unamused expression, before attempting to inch closer to you. 

Norbert hisses at Mingyu’s sudden movements before snuggling closer to you. 

“Goodnight Norbert,” Mingyu sneers but pets the feline with affection despite his attitude. 

Norbert meows in return, tapping Mingyu’s cheek with his paw before settling into a deep sleep. 

Kim Mingyu - 0 

Norbert - 1

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 a/n: thank you for reading! please leave a reblog or comment if u enjoyed this little bonus scene! if you'd like to be notified when i post the next one send me an ask or fill out the taglist form located in the winter event masterpost! talk to u soon! - anna ♡

[dcxdpdabbles]

Does Menace Danny have a favorite pastime?

Clark is reassigned against his will to cover another story about the Waynes. This time, Perry had to fight tooth and nail to get a exclusive interview with the eldest Wayne child, and if Clark messed it up, he could kiss any dreams of writing on the front page goodbye.

Despite the difficulty in securing it, it was a simple piece. If anything, it was less journalism and more tabloid gossip since the topic of the article was going to be Fenton-Wayne's hobbies and the Meet the Star theme.

Perry wanted Clark to dig further and find out if the young man was willing to give any details away about his new Heir Apparent status or his love life. He didn't fulfill out state it, but Clark could read between the lines.

He wouldn't pry because Clark hated gossip on a good day, and trying to trick a child into giving him gossip to make money off made him down right evil.

Perry was just going to have to be disappointed that Clark was too boring to get his meaning. It helped that Bruce Wayne was unwilling to let any other reporter cover the stroy, so Perry couldn't send one of his less straight lace reporters.

"You're back." The voice is low, nearly a whisper but with a steel that has every hair on Clark's body raise. Its not the sound of someone cowering, but rather someone about to pounce a victim.

He whips around to find Daniel Fenton-Wayne standing in the ajar door, staring at him with a tense bleak set of blue eyes. They don't quite glow, but they stand out in the darkness surrounding the boy and give the impression of spotting a predator waiting to attack in the long grass.

Clark has always been told his eyes were unnaturally blue, thats why he hid them behind such tick glasses design to make him appear as bug eyed as possible.

If people noticed the strangeness of his irises, they would just dismiss it to his glasses, magnifying his eyes.

He almost wants to share the tip with Fenton-Wayne but holds back. "Yes. I'm going to be doing your interview today. It's good to see you again."

"Bruce won't be joining us." The boy states, not moving closer. Half his face is hidden by the shadows, and were Clark a regular human, he wouldn't have been able to make out his moving lips. "It's will be just us."

"If you prefer to have your guardian or another trusted adult present for the interview, I don't mind coming back at a later date." Clark offers instantly watching the boy's face twitch. He attemps a disarming smile, but it only causes Fenton-Wayne's expression to flatter into an impassive one that rings warning bells in Clark's head.

"No. I can handle being alone. Can you?" The boy tilts his head slightly "Follow me."

Clark scrambles after the child, grabbing his bag. He has to pretend to stumble into a low table since the boy hadn't bothered to turn on the lights of the windowless hallway. They go further into Wayne Manor at a brisk fast pace without a word, though. Clark notices Fenton-Wayne glancing at him every once in awhile over his shoulder.

"Bruce said you were going to write about teenager hobbies and wanted to ask me questions about mine," the boy says in that same near whisper speech.

The pair stop before a large door without warning. It stands out for the green fairy lights hung on the doorframes, painting the hallway in an errie glow.

Clark's mind jumps to horror moives, especially with the light disoriented instrumental music playing that he can hear through the thick double doors. Against sense, he grows a little uneasy as Fenton-Wayne's large blue eyes train on his face, looking horrifyingly more blue in the green light the boy is bathed in.

"Um yes thats right." Clark coughs, shifting his feet. "I- what do you do for fun?"

"I make dolls of my classmates." Fenton-Wayne rasps,"and then I set them on fire."

Oh.

" I made one of you." The boy continues hand on the door handle. He starts to turn it slowly, but not once does he remove his gaze from Clark's, pinning him in place with his intense stare. "It can cry."

Oh.

Clark throws a wild look at the door, almost unsure if he wants the boy to open it. "W-why would you make a doll of me?"

Fenton Wayne's smile is more of a baring of teeth as he finally pushes the heavy door open. The wood groans heavily as it swings open, echoing around the sound of Clark's heartbeat in his ears. When it swings open, it reveals an equally dark room, but this one has a projector throwing a spectacular display of the Milky Way swirling on the ceiling.

Drapes were strung all over the room, and small twinkling purple lights were woven behind the clothes of a few, creating a path to a lone circular table in the center.

Unlike the door's green glow, these lights bathe the room in various blues and purples, drawing Clark's eyes to the dolls on the wall-to-wall shelves. They seemed made of yarn, with detailed clothes and sweet little smiles. Clark would almost call them cute if it weren't for the fact that he could see a replica of himself sitting on the shelves and a very telling voice box sewn into it once he activates his e-ray vision.

"Amigurumi," Fenton-Wayne remarks, making his way to the Clark doll. He gently lifts it up from the shelf, stopping to adjust a display next to it.

Clark is horrified to realize that the display is a replica of a class photo, complete with little bleachers and a sign declaring the year and school name. The twenty dolls are organized in the same positions as the life models shown in the frame photo next to them.

"What?"

"It's the type of doll I make—amigurumi. My hobby is crocheting amigurumi figures, and this little guy is you," Fenton-Wayne said, pressing the little button on the box. In an instant, the room fills with weeping interrupted by broken breathing, as if the doll were choking on its tears.

"That's the sound you'll make when I set you on fire for sleeping with my Dad." Fenton-Wayne places the doll on the center table, admiring it like a proud father. He then reaches under the table and pulls out a deck of cards, shuffling them without a care that the Clark-Doll has fallen silent. "I also dabble in cartomancy, with the help of ghost cards. Would you like to learn how you die? I'm hoping it has something to do with flames."

Clark gets his article, but when Perry complains about not having any gossip-worthy material, he slams the sobbing doll on his desk and then leans in to demand time off. His boss grants it the moment Clark starts retelling his fortune-telling session.

Perry also grew uneasy when Clark pressed the play option on his tape recorder, and Fenton-Wayne's raspy whisper blares in the otherwise silent office. "Clockwork's tower upside down, Pandora's box ripped open, and the three of Pariah Dark's artifacts. Do you see the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep? It means you will likely succumb to fatal wounds. Pity, it doesn't look like fire will be the cause. Now I'll never know if the crying audio was close to the real thing."

As Clark heads home to enjoy his paid time off, he wonders again how someone as dizzy and well-meaning as Mr. Wyane could wind up with a creepy little kid like Fenton-Wayne.

[ghwostcult]

Hobbies

Paring: Max Verstappen x reader Summary: Max gets bord while on race breaks, and decides to pick up new hobbies. Some are better than others

You’d been dating Max for almost a year now, and it had been great. From lazy morning sleep-ins to late-night dinner dates, you loved all of it. But your favorite parts of the year weren’t the planned outings or romantic getaways. They were the random little things Max did.

Take last week, for example. You’d come home from a long day at work, carrying a bag of McDonald's. You knew Max wasn’t supposed to be eating that kind of food because of his diet.

Not that either of you cared, as long as his nutritionist didn’t find out. It had become a quiet, monthly tradition between the two of you. But when you walked through the door expecting to see your boyfriend, you were instead greeted by a massive toy car racetrack taking over the living room. Max was sitting in the middle of it, commentating like it was the next Formula 1 Grand Prix.

“Who’s winning?” you asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And for the two of you, it was. These little moments were some of your most treasured memories. No matter how long you’d been together, you were always discovering these small, weird, wonderful things about each other.

You were used to coming home and finding Max mid-obsession. There was the week he became addicted to building flat packs. You gained three shelves, a chest of drawers, and six bookshelves from that phase. All of which remained mostly empty since neither of you owned enough stuff to fill them.

But this week had taken a turn you never expected.

With a rare week off from racing, Max had decided to try his hand at crocheting. He was not as good as he thought.

The first thing he made was supposed to be a blanket. And, to be fair, it looked like a blanket. If that blanket had been through fifty years of wear and tear. Still, you didn’t say a word. You just smiled and congratulated him because of the way he looked at you. Like a kid proudly showing off a school project. Someone else could break the news to him. Not you.

Today, though, had rendered you completely speechless.

You walked in, once again holding a bag of greasy food you had both been craving. Max met you at the door with his hands out, and you passed the bag to him without a thought. You kicked off your shoes and removed your jacket. But when you walked into the living room, you stopped.

The couch. It was rainbow. A couch cover, clearly crocheted, had been draped over the whole thing like a technicolor explosion.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, staring directly at it.

Max glanced at you, then back at the couch. “I prefer creative, but whatever works for you.”

He sat down proudly on the rainbow monstrosity, patting the spot next to him and placing the bag of food on the coffee table. You shook your head but joined him anyway.

Immediately, he pulled you into his side. Your body fit against his perfectly. A familiar comfort settled between you without needing a single word. A random movie played in the background as you took your first bite of food.

“You really need a new hobby,” you mumbled through a mouthful of burger.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes full of amusement. “Yeah. I’m thinking ceramics.” He looked down at you with a soft smile. His eyes were filled with nothing but love. <3

[jiminiepabov]

Why you didn't enter void yet?𐙚₊˚⊹♡

This my first post about void in this account

(DISCLAMIER:post is made with my experience, my assumption and my opinion+long post ahead+i will change the aesthetic of this post soon)

Do as I say. Take a deep breathe. Stop worrying. Relax. Do or eat something that makes your mind relaxed and happy. Now read this post.

Doing favorite method or just affriming whether by lying down or sitting up and everything goes nice . And all of sudden you wonder "why I'm NOT in void yet?" Or "Am I close to void?" If this is you, you’re doing totally opposite of what you should do. You are not entering void state, you’re inducing it which means you should presist by affriming or just being that you're already in the void. You don't wonder why you’re NOT in void yet? Or whether you’re close to it or not. You need not to affrim until you’re mind collapse just don't ask yourself why you’re NOT in void yet? or am I close to void? and similar stuffs like can I able to enter void?, am I doing anything wrong? You don't need to stress, just affrim/do your method/embody the state of void. Don't wonder whether you’re close to void or why you’re NOT in void yet because you're the void.

While having symptoms why you guys focus on them? Why are you chasing them? Why are you keeping them as a goal to enter void? Why are focusing on it like it is a VIP? When you feel symptoms you feel like you're almost there but why you didn't enter void? Your job is to affriming/do your method/embodying the state not to chase. Whenever you chase for symptom, the void state starts to run away from you(the void is you). If you’re having symptoms just let it happen. If it was intense relax your body and please control your mind, please baby control mind.

Don't wait for symptoms. Please listen to me don't wait for symptoms, if you’re looking for it you never gonna have it. And if don't have symptoms it's okay you gonna enter void state because symptoms are NOT MANDATORY. I entered void state for the first time without having symptoms. If I can then you can too my love.

You waking up in bed knowing that you didn't enter void state and started to complain that you didn't enter void for whole day robotically. Then you need to work on your self concept baby. Hear me out! You need work on self concept because you're affirming that you didn't enter void state for a long time and you're tired of it. To work on your self concept just be aware of your thoughts and affrim that you're master void and you can use your favorite affrimations ml.

Your creating your own subconscious blockages, they are not real but you're making it real. If you want to remove it just simply decide it. Yes, that's it. If you don't want to do it I prefer you guys to physch-k or hypnosis. Don't know what blockages are here some example:-

Creating an assumption that you can't able to enter void state.

Creating an assumption that you can't able to enter void again after you did once.

Creating an assumption that everyone can't enter void state.

Ect.......

Do you think that void is something higher than you? Or Are you begging to enter the void? ml you’re putting void on pedestal instead of you babe. It is simple to take it off. Just simplify the void. Ex:- Void is just state so, you can able enter it whenever you want or void is just body asleep mind awake state. You can simplify as much as you can. It really helps so, simplify it. It doesn’t matter It is real or not ml.

Procrastinating to enter void. Whenever you Procrastinate you must do a task, like drinking soy sauce. Ect.... If that doesn't work for you talk to yourself, ask yourself why are you Procrastinating. And convince yourself to not procrastinate any more dear.

Desperate to enter void. Just think it, void is just a state then why are you desperating. Having dead line, know that you're void and you can enter whenever you want.

If you force yourself to enter void, it creates anxiety and stress but not way to void. Do you sleep by forcing yourself? No, right. The same goes for void, just let it happen don't force yourself.

If you have suicidal mentality you need to know that your in control, you don't need to stress out. You create everything so please be patient ml. Don't do anything wrong.

Assumption creates reality so, presist in a assumption you're master at void.

Hope this post helps you. If you have any doubts my asks is open for you dear. Don't mind if this post have grammars mistakes or looks like shit because I wrote post while watching a match.

Go enter void state rn my love<333

Signing off

~𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓮𝓹𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓿

[moonselune]

Some of the chars (Wyll, Minthara, Lae'zel, Astarion, Halsin) watching the char sleep beside them, in their tents, and realizing that, no matter the circumstances of how, they want them to be their for the rest of both of their lives. Astarion grappling with the fact that, they *probably* won't be. (I romanced him as a Druid, bc Druid's can unlock eternal life at a certain level. I like to think they'd do that for him. Maybe have Astarion see research for it? Idk or not-)

OOoooOOooo I adore this prompt thank you so much for sending it in!

Minthara:

The Underdark was far behind you now, replaced by the open hush of a moonlit glade. Crickets sang softly beyond the sheltering trees, and a breeze stirred the leaves like whispered secrets. The campfire had long since dimmed to embers, its glow casting flickers of warm orange across the canvas of your tent, painting slow-moving shadows against the fabric.

You were already asleep beside her, your breathing steady, your face relaxed in a way she rarely saw when the world wasn’t quiet. And gods, she was watching you again. She always did when the night fell silent and there were no battles to fight, no enemies to anticipate — only time. Time and you.

Minthara lay on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other hovering uncertainly close to yours. Her eyes tracked the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair curled slightly at the nape of your neck, the faintest smile pulling at your lips — had you dreamed of her?

She hoped so.

She hated how soft her heart had become in your presence. No, not soft. That word was weakness, and she had carved herself from stronger stone than that. She was still the same Minthara who had once knelt before Lolth’s altar and cast blood for power. Still the same commander who had crossed blades with gods and monsters alike.

But you… you had undone her with no blade, no magic. Just kindness. Patience. That maddening smile that made her feel like she belonged in a world that didn’t spit on her for existing.

She breathed in slowly, careful not to wake you. A part of her wanted to run. That part always did — that instinct, ancient and feral, that told her this kind of peace was a trap. That it couldn’t last. That loving you like this — completely, devastatingly — would only end in ruin. In loss.

But another part of her, the one that dared to believe in after, in tomorrow, clung to the way your hand had found hers even in sleep. How you’d whispered, once, after a particularly bloody day: "Let’s find somewhere quiet when this is over. Just us. No gods. No war."

She hadn’t answered you then. She’d pretended she didn’t hear.

Now, watching you sleep in a tent far removed from war camps and strategy tables, that silence gnawed at her. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to build a life in the sunlight — or under it, if you preferred. She’d plant things with you, although she claimed to hate dirt under her nails. She’d ride spiders again if you asked, and maybe, just maybe, she’d learn to laugh without biting her tongue first.

Minthara reached forward, slow, reverent, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. You murmured something unintelligible in your sleep and shifted closer.

“I am hopeless,” she whispered into the hush. Her voice barely made a sound. “Utterly, tragically in love with you.”

The words tasted strange. Not sour, but unfamiliar, like wine she hadn’t dared sample until now.

“I would give up the Underdark,” she said, her lips near your ear now, barely touching skin. “The politics, the power, the fear. I would give it all up, if it meant I could wake beside you like this until I am dust and shadow.”

You stirred again, brow furrowing faintly. She stilled, waiting — but you only sighed, eyes never opening, and turned into her warmth.

Minthara closed her eyes then, finally letting herself press close. Your bodies aligned easily, like they’d done this a thousand times. She tucked her forehead against your shoulder, one hand splaying across your chest.

She would never say those things aloud while you were awake — not yet. But tonight, she let herself pretend.

Let herself want.

Let herself love.

Lae'zel:

Night had fallen over the camp, and silence blanketed the world. The kind of quiet that was neither tense nor dead, but peaceful — a rarity in your shared journey across this unforgiving land. The fire outside crackled low, casting a warm flickering glow through the thin fabric of the tent. The night was cool, but not cold, and your steady breathing beside her was a soft lullaby Lae’zel had come to rely on far more than she’d ever admit aloud.

She lay on her back, still, eyes fixed on the shadowy ceiling of the tent. You were tucked in beside her, your head nestled into the crook of her shoulder, one arm lazily thrown across her abdomen. The rhythm of your breath, the heat of your body — it all felt impossibly natural now. So natural, in fact, that it frightened her in ways that not even the most grotesque of battlefield horrors ever had.

You, mortal and soft in ways Gith would call weak, had become the only constant in her life. And she had no idea what to do with that.

Lae’zel had been raised to reject sentiment, to crush it under heel like so much ash. Love was weakness. Attachment? A tether. And yet here you were — anchor, thorn, salvation. You had seen her through blood and fire and fury. You had watched her scream, rage, break — and never once flinched. You challenged her. You softened her, when she didn’t want to be softened. You taught her, in small, infuriating ways, that not all strength comes from pain.

And now, you slept against her like it meant nothing. Like it was just something you did. As if this — your head rising and falling with her every breath — hadn’t become the only truth she wanted to cling to.

Her gaze dropped down to you. Moonlight painted a faint silver over your features. You looked peaceful. Unburdened. There was something almost infuriating about how easy it seemed for you. She had faced death without blinking. Had slain mind flayers, fought impossible odds, and yet this — this quiet, vulnerable feeling of wanting to stay by your side forever — was the thing that made her heart race.

Her arm curled instinctively around your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer. You shifted in your sleep, nestling deeper into her with a contented hum that made something twist inside her.

“I should not want this,” she whispered, low and sharp, more to herself than to you. “I should not want you.”

And yet she did. Fiercely. Without logic or apology.

It wasn’t just desire — that she had felt before. It wasn’t even comfort, though you gave her that in ways she never expected. It was need. A longing not born of weakness, but of revelation. She didn’t want to conquer you. She didn’t want to possess you. She wanted to stand beside you. To be chosen by you, again and again, long after this war was over and the skies had cleared.

She wanted to wake like this a thousand times — ten thousand — until her bones turned to dust.

Lae’zel closed her eyes, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, light and reverent. Her voice was barely a breath:

“I would fight every star in the sky to keep this. To keep you.”

You stirred slightly, murmuring her name — a mumble from the depths of dreaming — and her breath caught.

She was hopelessly in love with you.

And for once, she didn’t want to run from it.

Astarion:

The moonlight filtered through the trees in thin silvery slats, pooling over your sleeping form with a kind of reverence that made Astarion still.

You lay curled toward him, one arm tucked under your cheek, the other resting where your hand had found his in sleep. Your fingers were lightly wrapped around his, warm and gentle, and it made something in his chest ache — something vast and unfamiliar.

Astarion hadn’t moved in hours.

He didn’t need to, of course — stillness came easily to a creature like him. But this time, it wasn’t necessity that kept him motionless. It was fear. Wonder. Love.

Gods, that word still felt ridiculous in his head. Like some girlish fantasy whispered behind fans at noble dinner parties. Love — for him — had always been a lie. A tool. A performance. But here, in this quiet moment, with the night wrapping around you both like a secret — he felt it. Truly, deeply. Bone-deep.

He watched the way your brow furrowed slightly as you dreamed, how your lashes fluttered with whatever stories played behind your closed eyes. You trusted him — implicitly, foolishly, completely. Even now, so vulnerable, you were wrapped around him like he was home. Like he was safe.

He was not safe. He had never been safe. But you made him want to be.

Astarion tilted his head slightly, studying your face with a sort of gentle desperation. You were mortal. So tragically, cruelly, heartbreakingly mortal. Time would carve lines into your face. Grey your hair. Still your breath. One day — gods, the thought made his throat tighten — one day, you would be gone.

And he? He would remain.

He had scoffed at the notion of forever before. What was eternity but a gilded cage without power? But now… now he wanted it. Not just the eternity, but you in it. The thought of centuries without you beside him — without your warmth, your touch, your infuriating stubbornness and your breathtaking kindness — was unbearable.

Maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be that way.

His eyes drifted to the soft pulse at your throat. The blood beneath. The life. He could give you forever. It would be different, yes. A darker path. But a path you could walk together. If anyone could do it, if anyone could make something good and whole out of the monstrous… it was you.

You shifted slightly in your sleep, and your hand tightened around his fingers. Astarion exhaled — sharp and silent — and brought your joined hands up to his lips. He kissed your knuckles with a reverence he didn’t know he possessed.

“You are the cruelest thing the gods have ever given me,” he murmured against your skin. “And I love you for it.”

There it was. Said aloud. No masks. No coyness. Just truth.

He loved you.

He wanted you — for the next sunrise, and every one after. For the glittering eternity ahead. Not because he needed to survive. But because, against all odds, you made eternity something worth wanting.

And maybe, someday, you'd want it too.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he would hold your hand. Watch you breathe. Press a kiss to your temple and whisper into the dark:

“I’ll find a way to keep you. Always.”

Wyll:

The fire outside the tent had long since dwindled to glowing embers, casting only the faintest warmth into the night air. In the stillness of the camp, with the soft hum of crickets just beyond the canvas walls and the distant rustle of wind through trees, Wyll lay wide awake. You were curled beside him, breathing softly, one arm draped across his chest like it had always belonged there.

He hadn’t moved in what felt like hours. Not because he couldn’t — his limbs were warm and restless beneath your touch — but because he wouldn’t. He didn’t dare.

There was a certain kind of magic in this moment. Not the kind found in spellbooks or arcane circles, but something quieter, more dangerous in its subtlety. The kind of magic that made a man believe he could belong to someone, that he could be seen and still chosen.

You made him feel like Wyll again — not the Blade of Frontiers, not the devil’s bargain, not the smiling folk hero of ballads and embellished tales. Just him. And that was terrifying in a way demons never could be.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of your face in the dim firelight. Your cheek rested against his shoulder, your breath warm against his skin. Every so often, your fingers twitched where they lay, as if dreaming of some far-off adventure.

He exhaled slowly. Controlled. Careful. But inside, his thoughts were unraveling.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered to no one, or perhaps to the gods, or the stars, or himself.

He hadn't meant to fall this deeply. Not with everything else. Not with the weight of his past decisions shadowing every step, not with his future still tangled in uncertain paths. But love had never asked permission. It had crept in like dawn breaking over a battlefield — steady, radiant, impossible to ignore.

It was in the way you argued with him when you thought he was being too noble. The way you held him when the nightmares clawed into his sleep. The way you looked at him — not like he was a legend or a burden or a mistake — but like he was yours.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and let his hand rest gently over yours on his chest. Your heartbeat was a soft rhythm against him, grounding him more than any sword in hand ever had.

“I’d give up the sword,” he murmured quietly. “I’d give up the name, the stories, the flame and fury… if it meant waking beside you like this every morning for the rest of my life.”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word. It was a truth too heavy to carry and too beautiful to leave unspoken.

But you didn’t stir. You didn’t hear him. Maybe it was better that way — maybe the words were just for tonight. Just for him. Or maybe one day he would find the courage to say them while you were awake. He hoped so.

Because under any circumstance, under any curse, bargain, title, or battle, he knew it now: you were the only thing he would choose again and again, without hesitation.

Wyll tightened his arm around you, ever so slightly, and pressed a gentle kiss into your hair.

“I’m yours,” he whispered. “For however long you’ll have me.”

And with that, he finally allowed himself to close his eyes — heart full, soul quiet — as the world outside held its breath.

Halsin:

The forest around the camp was still. Not dead — never dead — but settled, at peace. The nocturnal song of crickets hummed low, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and damp earth through the air. A few embers from the campfire still flickered, their glow reaching faintly into the tent where the two of you lay together. The world had quieted, and yet Halsin could not sleep.

You were pressed against him, your face buried against his bare chest, one leg slung lazily over his hip. His arms were wrapped around you in a loose but protective hold, as if even now some part of him feared you might slip away. Your skin was warm against his, your breathing steady and soft — a rhythm that soothed him like the pulse of the wild heart of the world.

But there was no peace in his own.

Halsin had known many things in his long life. He had loved before, in fleeting ways — the kind that flicker briefly and are then reclaimed by time and change. He had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, felt the breath of centuries pass like seasons. He had found solace in solitude, strength in service to nature, and purpose in healing what others broke.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

He stared at the tent ceiling, brow furrowed in thought, the warmth of your body beneath his hands grounding him more than any root or tree ever had. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, the slight sound you made when you exhaled, the way your fingers would occasionally twitch in dreams. Every little detail — your scent, the feel of your hair against his collarbone, the subtle ways you leaned into him even in sleep — was seared into him. Permanently.

You had come into his life like spring after a long and bitter winter. Slowly at first. Gently. But now that you were here, he couldn’t remember how the world felt without you in it. You had taught him laughter again — not the kind he shared with comrades or companions, but something deep and simple and sacred. You had taught him patience, and longing, and quiet joy.

And it terrified him.

Because the truth settled in him like a mountain root — steady, unmovable, impossible to deny.

He loved you.

Not in the fleeting, passing way of desire or companionship. He loved you like the forest loves the sun — essential and eternal. He loved you in the way trees bend toward the light without understanding why. Instinctively. Irrevocably.

“Nature will take what it will,” he whispered to himself, voice hushed and low. “But still I would defy it, if it meant keeping you.”

He tightened his grip around you slightly, burying his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply. The scent of you made his chest ache. He had lived so long in balance with the natural world, following its flow, surrendering to its whims. But for the first time in his life, he felt the pull of something that made him want to dig in his heels. To fight fate. To hold onto something selfishly.

You murmured his name in your sleep, barely audible. A sound filled with trust, soft and safe.

It undid him.

“I would give it all up,” he whispered. “The title. The grove. The calling. If it meant I could stay by your side when the leaves fall and the earth grows cold.”

The wind shifted outside, rustling the leaves in soft, conspiratorial laughter. But inside the tent, he was still — a man rooted not to the land, but to you.

You stirred, blinking sleepily, and looked up at him. Your voice was thick with drowsiness as you murmured, “Halsin? You’re still awake?”

He smiled — gently, achingly — and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Yes,” he said, voice deep and low. “Just watching the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.”

Omg this is just what I needed after a shitty day at work, this makes me feel nice and warm inside. Hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[nerdygirlramblings]

Meghan Trainor's "Wrap Me Up" has me feeling some kinda way

poly!141 x fem!reader

"We'll be home by Christmas Eve," John sighs. It's been a long mission, made even harder being away from you at the holidays.

"Oh, John," your voice catches. You will not let him know you're about to cry. You take a deep breath and put as much love as you can into your reply. "That's the best gift I could ask for."

Half a world away, he smiles at his phone.

~~~

Two weeks later and you receive word from base the boys landed safely, and Johnny textes when they leave so you wouldn't be spooked when they troop through the door. That gives you a 40 minute window to make sure the gift you arranged is wrapped and under the tree.

You'd ordered takeaway from everyone's favorite kebab place. You know they would have preferred home cooking, and if it weren't so close to Christmas, you would have had a whole roast going for them, but you put effort into their gift and want it to be perfect.

You dash to the bathroom, arranging your hair to highlight the big red bow. Your makeup is understated, a barely there, natural glow accentuated with some gold glitter near your eyes.

Finally, you pull on the lingerie set you'd bought just for this. Red and lacy with ribbons holding most of it together. You'd practiced putting it on a few times already, making sure you could secure everything. As you tie the final bow, the one that held your breasts in, you dust more glitter across your collar and cleavage.

You are already wet, and the boys won't be here for another fifteen minutes.

You know how to take care of your boys, and this present was going to be as much for you as for them. You hadn't had a good orgasm the whole time they were gone. Even the toys they'd gifted you, molded from their cocks, weren't enough. Yes, they'd been together and thus not in so much of a dry spell as you, but you also knew quickies on cots and hand-jobs in the field were a far cry from what they wanted. What they craved. What they deserved.

A nice night at home, fucking, cuddling, and reconnecting would make everyone feel better.

You hear gravel crunch in the drive and lay yourself out on the area rug in the living room, white lights twinkling in the spruce behind you and a fire crackling behind the grate. You're grateful the house has a slight entryway with a wall hiding their Christmas surprise from immediate view. As a final touch, you turn on the radio low to some traditional holiday music.

The door opens and you hear bodies shuffle in, thuds as they drop their gear and remove their boots.

"Bonnie!" Johnny calls, tired but you hear the relief in his voice too, "We're home! Where are ye?"

You pitch your voice to carry over the music. "I'm in the living room." You watch their shadows move, and then there's a body in the doorway. It's Simon, his face bare in the safety of your home, searching for you and effectively blocking the others from seeing anything yet. He doesn't think to look at the floor, so you lightly say, "Happy Christmas, Si."

His eyes snap to you, and you watch the change come over him. He goes from weary to energetic in an instant. "Why isn' this a nice present," he says as he stalks to you. Kyle and Johnny follow him in and track his movement, clocking you immediately.

"God, doll," Kyle sighs. "What a sight you are." He too has a spring in his step you're sure was not there a moment ago.

Johnny moves so fast he's on his knees next to you before Simon reaches you. He stretches a hand out to pull the end of the ribbon across your chest, but you smack it away. When he pours, you simply say, "This is a present for everyone. No opening it without John."

"Oi, Cap! Get cher arse in here!" he bellows. Kyle and Simon are fully in the room, kneeling like Johnny, hungry, revenant looks on their faces. They haven't tried untying anything, but their hands twitch. You can tell they'd like nothing better than to pull open the bows and ribbons and lay you bare.

John finally comes in, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Until he finally pulls himself into the moment and sees you on the floor. His back straightens, shoulders unfurling. He stands larger in his frame. There is pure want in how he looks at you.

"Welcome home, Captain. Happy Christmas," you say, smile stretching wide. He starts walking as you continue. "You boys have been so good, I thought we could start with presents first this year."

John shoulders his way past the others, taking a space immediately in front of you. The others shuffle around to give him space and access.

"You said our return was the best gift you could ask for. Well, you're the best gift we could ever get." He leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one hand on your head and the other going to the bow Johnny tried to undo.

The others take it as permission to finally unwrap their present.

main masterlist

[juletheghoul]

The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to. 

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs. 

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing. 

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers. 

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes. 

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores. 

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it. 

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome. 

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company. 

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean. 

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off. 

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms. 

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born. 

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh. 

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly. 

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own. 

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you. 

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now. 

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts. 

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him. 

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to their s/o wearing mobility aids

When I said I was prioritizing the illnesses I had, I didn’t expect the hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, but here we are. For those who don’t know what it is: it’s a genetic condition that affects the ligaments, making them longer and/or looser, which cause problems over time. In my case, it affects my legs, so I’ll write about those. As always, if you want to read more of my work, you can click on the coloured texts! here the Tumblr masterlist, and here are the first two chapters of Everytime it Rains.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

He’s well-versed in what to do and not do, being around two people with a similar condition (though he’ll never call it a "disease" out loud for fear of making anyone uncomfortable).

His help is as subtle as possible: he’ll grab your backpack, shoulder bag, or anything else you’re carrying to keep you from overexerting yourself.

During walks, he’s the one who’ll suddenly mention it’s getting cold, too hot, or that he just remembered something, as soon as he senses you’re getting tired, assuming your fatigue is worse than his.

The first time you said, “I’ll pass, my knees are about to bend” he didn’t realize they bent backwards, and when he saw what that actually meant, he went pale.

He felt guilty about his reaction for at least a week.

Viktor:

Tell him something he doesn’t know.

He’s the one who’ll comment, “Where’s your brace?” if he sees you with bare legs and no aid, maybe tapping your foot lightly with his cane to emphasize his disapproval.

On the bad days—when fatigue, cold, or any external factor makes both of your legs useless—you end up helping each other out, spending most of the time on the couch with pillows under his knees and your legs draped over his.

If you have to do something alone while he’s busy, he’ll ask Jayce to accompany you, ensuring you don’t overdo it without realizing.

Ekko:

Honestly, he couldn’t care less. I mean, it’s not a big problem for him

The first time he saw your knees bend weirdly and too much, he just said, “Ouch.”

Other than that, there are hoverboards! If your legs stop cooperating at some point in the day, he’ll just have you balance seated on the hoverboard, saying it’s a gentleman’s duty to escort such an attractive lad/lady around.

He doesn’t ask what you want or need; he just does it, whether it’s bringing you food or removing your knee brace to let your skin breathe.

If he’s going to be away from the house for a while, he leaves a few things ready for you, like water bottles, so you don’t have to strain yourself carrying them up the stairs on your own.

When he sees you’re worn out, he’ll ask if you want a massage, using some body butter to improve circulation, relieve stress, and keep your skin elastic.

Vander:

His first instinct would be to carry you, but since that’s sweet yet sometimes awkward, you both agree that at night ‘it’s a man’s right to carry his wife/husband to bed, disability or not’.

He doesn’t know exactly how to help, so aside from asking if you need anything—like grabbing your aids, bringing them to you, or helping you put them on—he won’t push, knowing you’ll ask for help if you need it.

If you need to go upstairs, he’ll always walk behind you so that if your knees give out, he can catch you and avoid disaster.

At least two rectangular pillows appear in every useful room so you can place them under your knees. The problem is that you forget about them most of the time, so they’re not much help—at least until he comes along, lifts your legs, and places them in a more comfortable position.

"My legs hurt."

"Oh no, I’m sorry, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut them off," he jokes with a mock-serious expression, bursting into laughter when you swat at him in response.

Silco (old man):

Some things you could do on your own but feel more intimate when done together. That’s why you often trot into his office with the fabric sleeve and brace in hand, handing them to him, and he gives you his shimmer syringe in return.

There’s no specific reason beyond the mental closeness and vulnerability of the act.

“Too tight?” will always be his question, even though he knows by now how to adjust it perfectly and doesn’t need to ask.

When you’re together, he’s the one to carefully remove it, stroking your leg while lost in thought.

He never sends anyone to assist you; instead, he asks if you think it would be better to have someone accompany you, making sure you reassure him if you insist you can manage alone.

Silco (Young Man):

Zaun isn’t exactly suitable for crutches or unsteady footing, so as soon as you let him know about your condition, he feels even more compelled to improve the city (or at the very least, smooth out the streets).

He’ll ask questions—few but direct—to understand what it is and how he should act.

If you drop something, he’ll be quick but subtle about picking it up and putting it somewhere easier for you to reach.

“Do you want to go home?” is the question he’ll ask you most often, even if it’s just with a look, despite you explaining multiple times that you’ll let him know if you can’t keep going.

But he knows you push yourself beyond your limits, so he worries.

At night, he’s made it a small ritual to massage your legs when you stretch them out in bed, and it actually helps relieve the tension.

Jinx:

“I can make you a mechanical one.”

When you explain what the condition is and that you don’t need a replacement leg but help for the ones you have, she starts carrying around a notebook, taking notes on the “flaws” of your aid to make you a custom version better suited to your daily life and body.

“I’ll do it!” is her go-to response for anything you need to do that she thinks takes too much effort. She doesn’t even ask; she just throws herself into it with so much enthusiasm it becomes amusing after a while.

You don’t have many intact knee braces or aids left, because according to her, they were “boring,” and she’s customized them—though they still work pretty well.

Even if she won’t admit it, she’s become even more protective of you. For example, if someone bumps into you in the street, she’s ready to jump to your defense immediately.

Vi:

She doesn’t really know how to react or respond because of how versatile the condition is. How does she figure out which days your legs won’t work and which ones they will? Or when they’ll start hurting before it’s too late?

You two agree on a small code: you tap her hand or shoulder three times rhythmically when you start to feel fatigued so that if you’re in public or with company, you don’t have to announce it to everyone if you don’t want to. She’ll immediately understand.

She’s a little scared of doing the wrong thing. She doesn’t know how to handle it and, even though she tries not to, she starts to perceive you as more fragile, moving with a fear of accidentally hurting you.

But she learns over time. She’ll simply ask more often if you need anything when she’s going to the kitchen or the store.

And when you’re cuddling, she’ll pull your legs onto hers.

Caitlyn:

She asks you to explain the condition to her—what you can and can’t do and how she can help.

She’s the ultimate advocate for your aid.

If you skip wearing it one morning because you don’t feel like it or the pain hasn’t started yet, you can bet she’ll notice and say something.

Sure, it can be a bit annoying, but considering it’s a degenerative condition, you know she’s right, so you can’t really get mad at her.

If you’re just not in the mood, she’ll put it on for you herself, with such care that you start to wonder if there’s an instruction manual she got that you didn’t.

Beyond that, she’s not overbearing. She trusts that you’ll communicate when you don’t feel like doing something, and she doesn’t presume to know your limits better than you do.

Mel:

It’s not too much of a problem, considering most of your activities together don’t involve much walking or moving due to her work.

That doesn’t stop her from taking an interest, though. At least once a week, she’ll ask you how your legs are

If they hurt, if you need different support or more comfortable shoes, or if you just need a footrest or a cushion—she’s ready and ensures everything you might need is on hand. If she can’t get it herself, she’ll send someone.

During dinners, she privately asks whoever is in charge of arranging things to provide you with a footrest and an extra cushion on your chair. If you tell her it’s unnecessary, her response will be, “Can’t I spoil my partner a little?”

She knows you’ll let her know if you’re having issues, but she takes all the necessary precautions to ensure no problems arise in the first place.

Sevika:

Again, tell her something she doesn’t know.

The difference between your legs and her arm—besides the fact that yours are still intact—is that they require less messy and time-consuming maintenance than hers. So not only does she not mind helping, but she hardly even notices.

She won’t ask if you need anything unless you say so or show explicit signs of struggling. It’s a deliberate choice to avoid making you feel like she thinks you’re not independent or capable.

On the couch or in bed, she’ll have you rest your legs on hers and prop you up with cushions behind your back, making sure you’re fully supported.

[limerlove]

mostly sfw, gf!abby.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who cooks for you when you’re having a particular rough day. entering your shared home with tears in your eyes, a tremble to your hands you can’t quite shake. she’s there to center you from the madness going on in your brain. stopping at the grocery store on the way home and getting all the necessary measures to make one part of your day much easier.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who gives you reassuring back rubs at the end of day. her arms are so strong, so comforting, and all you want is to let them swallow you in welcomed safety. you love how it feels to be held by her. there’s not a thing in the world that can touch you when she’s holding you. it’s when you feel the most loved; being held by her.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who reaffirms when you’re not feeling the best. it’s a love language you understand and abby speaks it fluently. at the end of the day, even if hers has been draining, your girlfriend with a heart made of glistening-gold just wants you to know how much she will always love you. the bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand is certainly the cherry on top.

with a blinding light reaching her sky-blue eyes, her temple nudging with yours, as if you are her very own cathedral she finds sweet solace in. abby’s promise coats her tongue as she saturates you with tethered bliss. playfully she asks — need me to kick someone ass? and you almost take her up on the offer. as abby has before, she’s there to reassure you. “today wasn’t great but tomorrow will be better. and even if it isn’t, you always have me. my love is cemented, so intertwined with you, couldn’t remove it if i tried. not even with these big muscles.”

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who is a huge book nerd. abby would buy novels she believes you would like. any books apart of her collection she already owns she would grab a sticky note and letting the ink spill over as she marks particular parts of the novel you would like. and she wouldn’t be the girl you loved without giving you reasons why. each notation feels deeper, another intimate part of her uncovered. before abby got so bold she would not so subtly bring it up while you cuddled into her frame, the two of you seconds from slumber.

read it to me then, abs. i prefer your voice over mine, soothes me.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who travels for work, when she’s away, it’s the most difficult. the nights are a spear to your soul. abby tends to be an early riser, helps her feel more prepared, so she’s been falling asleep before the sunsets. pure exhaustion taking over her body, droopy eyes unable to keep fighting as her raspy voice whispers goodnight babygirl, i love you and she’s dead to the world. deeply, abby sinks into a dreamless sleep and immediately, you miss her. even if she’s only a few hours away, nights without her are ones wasted. so…you leave a voicemail. a small gift that you know will make her smile.

6:30 am.

abby: i love you and your sleepy voice telling me how much you love me ♡ ps. you better be sleeping right now, you sent that at four am.

𓍼ོ ၴႅၴ gf!abby who take care of you the minute she’s back. a week had been long enough and all she wants is to make her beautiful, fucking-perfect girlfriend feel just as good. sweet as strawberries, her favorite fruit to eat, she takes everything you have to offer her. when you spill on her tongue, a reward she’s been thinking about for weeks, nothing has ever felt as good as this. as golden as you.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Centaur Riding Class (part 2)

Monstertober 2024 - day 28 [ Greek Mythology ] by @/ozzgin

[ part 1 ]

[ m!centaur (+ fem!centaur) x fem!reader ]

a/n: the second part! the male centaur won, but because there were a couple of fem thirsty comments (and i really like the girl centaur) she will make a little cameo here too :3 content: nsfw, wlw, fingering, squirting, p in v, belly bulge, creampie

You scratch the back of your head. "You both seem amazing... I can't..."

Luckily your friend recognizes the signs of your anxiety edging you. "Oh, I know her taste, she would love to be with the handsome gentleman over there."

You stutter incoherently, not actually disagreeing, but mostly feeling utterly embarrassed. Your friend almost tosses you toward the black-haired centaur and he gracefully catches you by your arm bowing down all the way to the line where his human torso stops and horse body starts. "She has good taste," he winks and you can hear the red-haired centaur chuckle. "I think you and I need to get somewhere more private."

With a teasing wave your friend sees you off.

As soon as you walk around the corner, the centaur stops you by gently pulling you by the shoulder. As soon as you turn towards him, he tilts your head up. "Are you disappointed? Trust me, you won't regret my company one bit, sweet human."

You look into his beautiful eyes and let him brush your lower lip with his thumb. "No, of course not." You barely stop yourself from taking his finger into your mouth.

"Good." His expression dims into a more serious one. "Also, just to make sure, you do know this is actually a brothel?"

"Oh thank god!" Your sigh of relief makes your companion flinch. "I was scared I was actually going to ride you. That sounded terrifying."

With an intense but amused shock, the man in front of you laughs. "Well, that wasn't reaction I expected. But I'm glad. Would you like to take a shower together or would you prefer to clean privately?"

You look at his massive body and imagine his shiny hair glistening from water. Soaping his back and stomach, muscles and shoulders and neck. And then his hands... You shake your head quickly - it was too much to even daydream about it right now. "I would rather bathe alone."

He nods, with a sly smirk, and you could swear he looked at your crotch as if he sensed your wetness. He leads you in front of a door to a huge bathroom and bends down. He lifts you with his arms, more massive than any that ever held you, and whispers into your ear: "I know humans prefer to bathe more frequently than us. Centaurs enjoy the natural smells, the musk, all the juices. Your aroma is delicious and I would love to mount you immediately, but your comfort is important to me." His husky voice makes you shiver. Is it too late to change your mind?

You enter the large bathroom and find an empty stall to remove your clothes. You take a towel and pull the curtain - only to meet an equally naked red-haired centaur. She bites her lip. "Well isn't this my lucky day. Let's shower together, beautiful."

She leads you into a huge shower stall, big enough to fit both of you. The broad showerhead sprays you with light droplets and you can enjoy watching them slide down her muscles. She flexes with almost a childish expression. "I can carry you with one arm, human! Wanna see?" And she swoops you onto her massive bicep. You always forget that centaurs are significantly larger than people. And a lot stronger. You blush feeling your naked ass rubbing against her firm muscle.

"If you kiss me, I'll make you squirt around my fingers until you count to 100."

You blink in surprise, but she doesn't let you answer. She bites your lower lip and easily slides into your cunt. You start counting. Somewhere around 53, you lose track, your arms desperately clutching around her neck while she curls her fingers against your g-spot. "Fuck... Fuck... Fuuuuuck...." you moan without breath right into her mouth.

She pulls her fingers out and a jet of your squirt splashes against her tits. "Good girl. Let's get you ready for your date."

You mutually soap and rinse each other, and she helps you into a silky robe. "Next time, you're mine," she winks at you, and escorts you down the hall. "Your stallion awaits you."

And he truly is - naked - looking through the window while rubbing his plump lips. His dark brown skin is covered in tiny black curls all over his chest down to his navel. Below navel there is a horse chest, of course, and you can't help but look for his exposed sheath between his hind legs. You swallow imagining what is hiding behind it.

His smile is radiant as he walks toward you. "I'm glad you had fun showering." He circles around you, the sound of his hooves echoing through the bedroom. "Quite a bit of fun it would seem. Which really pleases me since you do smell divine now."

He stops behind you and pushes his hands underneath your robe. His fingers are so gentle, feather-light, until he finds you breasts and squeezes them. His palms are hot against your nipples. He kneels behind you before his lips end up on your neck, igniting all the nerves under your skin. The hair on your body stands up, almost vibrating. "What a delicate creatures you humans are." He takes a bite just underneath your jaw. "I can't wait to mount you."

Completely dazed from his caresses, with eyes closed, you fly and float until he takes your arm and kisses your wrist again. "Hold this for me, beautiful."

You are on the contraption you saw centaur-human couples use for intercourses. You are on your back, legs spread and laying on something soft with your hips wedged. You need to hold two handles which actually help you adjust your body. Centaur's front hooves are on both sides of your arms, but he's kneeling, his stomach slightly pushing against your chest. "Have you ever been with a stallion?"

The way he asked you that, above you, low and hungry, stimulated a throb into your bundle of nerves. "No."

"Perfect..." he purrs, and a slippery mass slides against your thighs. "I love being the first. I love setting the bar high for all the lovers that will take your hole after me. You will never be the same, beautiful. I will stretch you so much that only centaur cocks will be able to satisfy you."

You whimper, slightly intimidated and look down at his phallus emerging between your legs. It is so long, and leaking all over your stomach. "Fuck. It's huge."

"Don't worry. I'll go easy. I'm a professional after all."

And he truly is. He only grinds at first, rubbing his preputial ring against your folds. He listens to your pants, feeling your heartbeat and slows down or speeds up until you're a shivering and drooling mess. He doesn't let you orgasm. "Yes, beautiful. You need to be lubricated for me and my cock. I want to push it inside you all the way."

He is breathing heavily, rocking his body until slowly - very slowly - he pushes his tip inside you. You've never been stretched that much, it's so intense and you grab the handles to readjust your body on the contraption. "That's right," he pants. "Aaah... Make yourself comfortable... You will stay there until I'm finished, human."

Again, he listens to your moans and whimpers as signals when to push harder or pull out. You hardly feel any pain and you truly are surprised to see your stomach moving. His cock is so deep inside you can feel it through your navel. "Oh fuck! It's so... so deep..."

"That's right. I'm almost completely in... And you are so perfectly tight! And now I'll fuck you until you burn from pleasure."

Everything after that is a blur. You remember coming once, shaking as if a fever overpowered you, screaming. You think you orgasmed at least once more? And you remember how your stomach inflated when he ejaculated and filled you with his hot seed. You do not remember how he carefully untied your from the contraption and carried you into the bed, blissfully happy, your pussy overflowing from his semen. Maybe he kissed your clammy forehead, maybe not. But you remember having the sweetest dreams about riding centaurs that night.

[14dayswithyou]

💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

[leighsartworks216]

on my knees begging please i beg you dragon sylus mating rituals. does he have a knot? how about heats and how they deal with it aaaa

I have been thinking about this for days and uhh I had way more to say about this than I thought 💀 smut smut smut below the cut

I think his mating rituals would be more birdlike than anything else. He makes a huge nest, working tirelessly until it's to your exact liking. Even if you try to just say "it's fine" or not complain, he's going to nitpick until he's sure it's absolutely perfect

Then he has you stand at the center. His wings raise and spread in grand gestures and patterns, chin up, chest puffed as he circles around you. It's almost predatory, showing how strong and desirable he is. All the while, he makes these sort of rumbling chittering noises in his chest and throat, almost like a mating call. He wants your eyes on him. If you glance away, he growls his discontent and tries harder to keep your gaze on him. Round and round you he goes, until you relax, until you're ready. Until you reach out, accepting his display, to pull him into you

He prefers if you aren't undressed beforehand - which isn't common amongst his kin, actually. He just relishes the undressing so much. Loves slipping your clothes off your shoulders and pressing wet kisses to the exposed skin. Kneeling down and kissing your stomach and thighs as he removes your pants and underwear. Loves watching your expression as he presses his nose into your crotch, nuzzling the skin and hair, inhaling your scent, smelling just how ready for him you are

When he stands again, he presses his forehead to yours, claws hands holding your body like the most precious treasure. Stares deep into your eyes, chest rising and falling with eager breaths, his desire barely contained within himself

He lays you down in the nest, hands cradling your body to make it as soft as possible. His nose nuzzling into your neck, licking, smelling, tasting your skin as his wings shudder above, hanging over your bodies in giant arcs. Also unusual for his kin - he takes his time

He kisses his way down your body. Drags his sharp teeth so delicately over your delicate skin. Crawls his way down your body. Has to stop himself from actually biting. He groans in delight when he reaches your core, breathing you in as he looks up at you with heavy lidded eyes, dark with lust, as he lolls his tongue out and drags it up the length of your sex. The sounds you make - oh they drive him wild. His claws dig into the nesting material below as he makes out with your heat, sucking and licking and letting your arousal coat his tongue so deliciously. His eyes roll if you grab his hair, or hells his horns, to guide him, control him, use him. His hips grinding into the nest, his cock slowly unsheathing itself as he listens to your moans and gasps, and as your arousal consumes his senses

I know reptiles have hemipenes, so a reptilian dragon should too, but god dammit I just love knots so much. I imagine his dick is long and thick. The head is pointed, and the length is ribbed or maybe even a little spiky. And at the base, of course, is a beautiful knot

You don't get to cum on his tongue, despite how much he wants to taste it, slurp it up and drink it all down. His instincts won't let him, won't allow you to finish without him inside you, breeding you. He pulls away with a growl and crawls back up to you, rubbing his face against yours, cheek to cheek, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. His cock rubbing over your sex, measuring himself against your belly

He never bullies his way in. He can't, not without hurting you, his precious human. Clawed hangs grab your legs and push them back, spread them to make enough room for his hips, sharp nails pressing as gently as he can into the flesh of your thighs. He murmurs quiet reassurances and praise, encouraging you to hold on, bite down on him if you must, push him away if it's too much

It's a slow stretch. He aligns his tip and nudges in slightly, stilling when he hears you gasp. He doesn't move until you give him some sign that he can. He kisses your neck and behind your ear as he works you open, distracting you, telling you how perfect his little human mate is for him. His wings lower down around you both, shielding you, caging you in, trapping the heat radiating between your bodies. Inch by inch, he pushes into you, until he's down to the hilt, to the bulge of his knot pressing against you

He'll wait forever for you. Wait an eternity for you to adjust. For as much as this ritual is for breeding, it's also a unity between him and his mate, a showing of his bond with you. It's a ritual of trust and patience, care and desire. An oath to each other

When you finally tell him to move, he slowly pulls out and slowly pushes back in, gradually building up to a rhythm. More and more losing his sanity as your heat sucks him in, as your hole squelches around him, as he smells your desire increase tenfold. Finally, he kisses you on the mouth, hard and claiming and sharing the taste of you on his tongue

His stamina and endurance are outrageous. You cum multiple times before he's even close. He may slow down when he feels you clench around him, crying out his name, clawing into his shoulders and back, but the sensation is more likely to drive him wilder, fucking deeper into you with a possessive growl and adoring praise

When he's close, you can tell. He pistons into you like a madman, pressing his weight onto you, completely enveloping you in his presence as his tail whips around. He stops kissing you to mouth your shoulder, leaving wet, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses there as he chases his peak. When his hips stutter, he finds the prime spot on your neck, where it meets your shoulder, and he bites down. He tries not to be too rough, but when he presses his hips forcefully against yours, working his knot into your tight hole, he can't help biting harder, leaving a mark that will last and drawing blood

When he cums, it's so much. His knot pressing into you, plugging you up as he fills you to the brim and beyond, rocking his hips slightly to milk himself into you. He moans around your skin, this low, guttural sound of satisfaction. Moans even more if you grab his hair or trail your fingers along his neck

Once his cock is spent, twitching in the flooded heat of your hole, he finally releases your skin. He licks over it delicately, breaths shaky as he kisses over the imprints of his teeth, whispering how much he adores you, how you're his, how he would kill anyone else who dares to lay eyes on his mate. If you bite him in return, marking him as yours in return, his hips buck helplessly into you, desperate to fill you but too spent to do so. You both lay there together, holding each other, until he softens enough to pull his knot out of you. He crawls with heavy movements back down your body to lick clean what spills out

I think heats are less structured than a regular mating ritual. Mating rituals are rituals, there's a process, there's steps to follow, there's calm. But heats? Oh boy, he is feral

You both know when they come, since they follow a cycle. And you know to be ready for it when it does. You are pampered to the nines the night before, with fresh fruit and meats and soft touches and kisses

But the night of, you're wrecked

His eyes seem to glow red when it hits. He wastes no time capturing you, pressing you down wherever you are to expose you to him. His nails are sharp and dig into your skin; his grip bruising. Like this, he's more likely than not to take you from behind. Pressing his entire weight against your back and immediately biting down on your neck to hold you in place as he shoves his cock inside of you. It's ruthless, and can be painful. He's only aware enough to stop if you cry out in pain, pulling himself back and tearing himself away until it passes or you seek him out yourself

He fucks you without abandon. Growls if you squirm or wriggle, holding you down even more, biting down harder. These ruts don't last as long as a mating ritual. He goes faster, seeks out his own release above all else in a haze of need, until he finally cums. Fucks his knot into you and still tries thrusting without pulling it out to ensure he's fucked you thoroughly, filled you completely

When he's spent, his whole weight presses down on you. His chest heaves against your back as he lazily licks up the blood from his bite. He waits longer before he pulls out of you, and growls when his cum spills out, like he needs more than anything for it to stay inside of you. His claws grab your ass to keep you stable as he licks away the excess, burrowing his long tongue deep into your hole to taste your arousal mixing with his seed

He's usually still semi-beastly for the rest of the night, but he still recognizes you as his mate, so he makes sure you're comfortable. Cuddles you by laying on top of you and licks all your bruises and scratches, until you both drift off to properly care for each other in the aftermath of the next day

OKAY THIS WENT ON WAY LONGER THAN I NEEDED IT TO I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR AN HOUR AND ITS ALMOST MIDNIGHT AND I HAVE TO SPEND THE ENTIRE DAY CLEANING AND PACKING AHHH

[innerfare]

Going Down On You - Part 4

Summary: how they go down on you

Characters: Katakuri, Marco, Kaidou, Killer, Heat

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, Kaidou is drunk (as usual)

——— 

Katakuri: 

There are two versions of this man: the brutal, serious, and fearsome general who never shows his face, and your husband. Though it took a long while for his walls to come down, they didn’t come down slowly. Rather, they crashed and burned, and the first time you saw his face, you also learned he had a voracious appetite, his desire to taste your cunt stronger even than his craving for his favorite donuts. 

“The tastiest treat in all of Totto Land, and it’s all mine.”  

You quickly become his merienda. He’ll create a mochi shrine to hide the two of you away and pull your bare cunt onto his face, lapping happily at your folds, humming as he does. He fully expects you to be available to him, particularly in trying times, as he needs the taste of you to fully recharge. He becomes extremely annoyed if anyone interrupts the two of you during his afternoon, resorting to brute force if anyone disturbs him. 

He prefers to lay on his back, thus the need for such privacy, as he would rather die than allow anyone to know how vulnerable he is at this time. Worse still, he’s sweet, kissing your cunt between licks, only tongue fucking you for a few seconds at a time before he’s licking up your juices and kissing your clit, every pet name and sweet nothing in the book spilling from his lips as he indulges in you. 

“Better than donuts, my sweet little wife’s pussy.” 

Marco: 

He’s normally so relaxed and calm, always in control without having to assert dominance as it rolls off him so naturally. He doesn’t want to be a Warlord, doesn’t want to be an Emperor, just wants to go with the flow and have some adventures with his family. But when he gets your panties off, he goes a little feral. Sure, he’s methodical in the way he starts with your lips, spends time on your nipples, and kisses his way down your body until he’s lapping at your cunt, but he’s also an animal about it. 

His nails dig into your thighs as he pries them apart. He grips you so hard you’ll have bruises in a few hours. And he’s merciless in tonguing you, working as many orgasms out of you until you’re begging him to stop, and when he does stop, it’s only to fuck you because tasting you makes him rock hard, the sort of hard that won’t simply go away unless you’re there to do something about it. 

He’s been known to tie you up so he can work in peace without having to hold your legs and arms down, freeing up his fingers to twist your nipples or massage your precious g-spot, but the thing is, he almost never ties you up in bed. If he ties you up, it’s going to be in his office or another location that’s private but where you run the risk of being discovered. The guys all know what that bundle of rope in his office is for, but none of them are brave enough to say anything. 

Kaidou: 

Kaidou often gets drunk and demands your presence, ordering you to strip down for him while he watches in begrudging approval. When you’re naked, he’ll tell you to do things like turn around and bend over so he can enjoy the view, sometimes making you stay that way for several minutes. When he’s especially drunk, though, he doesn’t bother going through all of that, just ripping the kimono straight from your body. 

“Do you wear clothes just to inconvenience me?” 

And when he’s decided he can’t hold back his appetite any longer, he’ll grab you in both of his massive hands and hold you where he wants you, burying his face in your cunt while he grunts like the beast he is. He enjoys the size difference, gets off to the sight of his massive tongue running through your folds. 

“This is worth living for, my favorite girl’s pussy.” 

Sometimes, he gets so drunk he forgets to dismiss his men and attendants. Sure, they all scurry off once you either remove or he rips your kimono off, scampering out of the room for fear of retribution should their emperor realize they’ve seen his favorite girl naked, but everyone knows what he does to you on those drunken nights. If they haven’t seen him strip you without warning, they’ve at least heard your whimpers and whines echoing from his chambers while he growls at you to stay still. 

Killer: 

It’s not often that the mask comes off, but when it does, it’s always in the dark of night, usually in his cabin when it’s just the two of you, and he always goes down on you. He doesn’t ever give you any warning, saying aloud that he’s going to take the mask off putting pressure on his shoulders to perform a certain way, so it always comes as a surprise when you feel his bare cheek pressed against your abdomen as he kisses his way down your body. 

“Our secret,” he mutters, turned on by just how much the two of you know about each other that nobody else does. 

He goes slow, savoring every last second of the intimate moment. He spends so much time sucking on your nipples you almost cum from that alone, whimpering as he refuses to finger you while he works. He moves slowly down your abdomen and nuzzles your thighs for a long few moments, so taken by the feel of your soft skin against his cheek he considers leaving his mask off permanently. 

“That’s my girl, so fucking soft.” 

When he finally starts prodding your hole with his tongue, working it inside you, he’s moaning as loud as you are. He always starts by tongue fucking you, eager to taste you while stretching you, and when he thinks you’re ready for his big fingers, he moves his tongue to your clit, going back to your hole every thirty seconds or so to lick up your juices. He’ll work several orgasms out of you that way. 

Heat: 

Actually so gentle when you finally reach a point where you trust him enough to let him between your legs. He takes this privilege very seriously and is worried he might do something to mess it up. After all, everyone has always told him what a monster he is, and sometimes, he really is a monster, so gaining access to your most sensitive area truly does make him a little fearful he’ll upset and even hurt you. 

“You won’t regret it,” he says in your ear, voice almost a whisper. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.” 

He lays you down and gingerly pushes your legs apart, slowly but surely, and it takes him a minute to lean in because he’s so overwhelmed that you trusted him enough to let him do this to you. And that’s all while your panties are still on. He can see the wet spot, can see the outline of your cunt- he just knows your pussy is so perfect- and his mouth waters as he realizes he’s the one who gets to taste it. 

Something about pulling your panties off feels a little overwhelming, so he gently pushes them to the side, breathless at the sight of your glistening pussy. His tongue slithers from between his lips and pokes nervously at your folds. You end up reaching down and holding your panties to the side and your outer lips apart for him as he gently tongues your cunt. He slowly increases the pressure until he’s devouring you, the most lewd sounds surely drifting under the door and into the hallway. After you’re finished, he’ll nuzzle your inner thigh a bit. You two wind up staying in that position for a while as he basks in your presence. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[chelseeebe]

the weirdo next door

18+. mdni. smut. weirdo pervy neighbour eddie pls don’t read if it’s not your thing🫢

day five of spooky week! your neighbour is a creep but why do you kind of like it?

a/n: kinda short lil blurb tonight because seven fics is a lot for my pea brain

₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚.

it was no secret that the guy in the apartment across from you was a bit of a creep. 

he wasn’t exactly slick with his peeping, nor did he really care. you’d often catch him gazing gormless out of his window and into yours. 

he was cute, in a freaky sort of way. 

he’s staring now, mouth hung open as you creep in from your night out. still dressed in the tight pink corset and bunny ears, a pervs dream, no doubt. 

some days you’d entertain it, putting on an extravagant show before the pulling the curtain shut, leaving the rest to his strange imagination.

but tonight the alcohol is coursing through your veins, clouding your better judgement, making you do things you’d never ever do. 

you start first with your boots, bending over to unzip and kick them off, holding eye contact as your fingers trailed back up to your thighs, lifting the hem of your skirt ever-so-slightly.

his shoulders tense, his hand twitching to touch something, to touch you. 

the corset comes next, popping the clasps one by one, relishing in the way that even from across buildings, you could see his chest rapidly rise and fall. fingers now creeping over to his sweatpants and the bulge now forming. 

you turn before it’s completely off, tossing the corset or the ground before slipping into a t-shirt. his eyes are wide when you spin back around, hand now dipped under the waistband of his sweatpants. 

it’s truly disgusting. anybody of sane mind would call the cops or beat his ass, but you loved it. took great pleasure in getting a man you’d never met to cum without ever once touching you. 

you shimmy out of the skirt, stepping out of the fabric only to bend down, revealing your sheer choice of panties to him, folding the skirt ridiculously slow. 

he’s harshly biting down onto his lip, fist pumping slow through the fabric of his sweats, jaw slack as you’re sure noises are spilling out. 

you sit on the edge of the bed, illuminated by the orange glow of your lamp, making intense eye contact with the weirdo next door. creeping your hand upwards to your shirt, slipping under to graze over your waist, landing on your breast with a soft grope. 

he’s not ashamed, rigorously fisting his dick with heavy-lidded eyes and a soft bite to his lip. you want him to touch you, to crawl over to your building and break his way inside. 

your other hand moves downward, over your panties as your legs fall apart, half-heartedly rubbing your aching clit with a soft huff. he’s still watching intently, closer to the window than before. 

your eyes droop shut as your head lulls backwards, the intensity of your pleasure only growing with every circle of your fingers. “oh.. fuck,” slipping your fingers into your soaked underwear, desperate for something more. 

the pleasure between your thighs sends your body reeling, leaning back against the mattress with your fingers running circles around your clit. eyes flickering open to find the room opposite barren, dark and quiet. 

he’s gone. 

stopping you in your tracks, encapsulated in the sudden lonely darkness. removing your hand from your thighs, the heat of embarrassment creeping onto your cheeks right the way up to the tips of your ears. 

deciding that crawling into bed to hide would be far better than ever facing that window again. the curtain would simply have to stay closed forevermore. 

quickly pulling the blanket up and over your exposed body, stomach twisting in utter shame. maybe this was too far for him? much preferring to watch in silence than have you perform for him.

it’s silent, the tick of your clock echoes from the kitchen only to be interrupted by a scuffle outside the door, snapping your scarlet face in the direction of the noise. 

the door clicks open, spiking your heartbeat as it creaks. 

whatever it is, it’s inside. feeling their way around your dark apartment, trying to find you.

footsteps trundle up the hall, slow and heavy. stopping just before your bedroom door. 

your heart leaps into your mouth when the handle turns downward, eerily opening like there was nothing or no one on the other side.

the dark figure appears in your eyesight with a heaving chest and an obvious bulge in his pants.

it’s not a monster, it’s him.

the boy from the window now lurking in your doorway, inching toward the bed, his hands twitching by his sides, grabbing at the fabric of his sweatpants.

“you keep the key under your doormat,” he shrugs, as if this were the most nonchalant meeting in the world. 

the creases in your sheets. the missing panties and misplaced bras all made sense now. 

you wet your parched lips, breathless almost as you regain enough courage to speak

“hi.”