#rendering clothes is next time

[triccina]

The morning routine in the workshop :3

[missescalientee]

Late to post but this is my first art of 2025!! I made this starting at about 1 am ending at about 4 am, didn't have the energy for the bg but the rendering is p accurate for the scene XD

I need to continue this story and practicing backgrounds, but yeah this is a way future scene from my fic

It's still on Movie 1 but we're getting there lol

Anyway here's to an amazing 2025!!

[beelzehug]

no hate to supergiant but their design for apollo is so off it actually makes me a little mad. i amgoing to redesign him.

[quarterlifekitty]

Cw: cum eating lol

Goddess!Reader as a forgotten deity— a small temple hidden in a cave, completely overgrown with vines and moss. The marble of the flooring is cracked and split with the dripping water and the roots of the overgrowth. There is a statue of you— life sized, not grand or impressive. The skylight of the cave bathes it in sun and moonlight as the days go by.

Warrior!König who finds your little shrine and is enchanted. He has always felt like an outsider— that he has never belonged, and never looked at with familiarity. Maybe it’s his loneliness getting to him, but he feels warmth in the gaze of the statue. You’re a beautiful figure. Despite the state of the place, he feels at home. He doesn’t have much— but he clears some vines and dust off of the offering altar and leaves a fig and a handful of oats.

In his next battle, he finds some uncanny things happening around him. He’ll be dueling an enemy, when a stray beam of light will move in just the right way to blind him for a moment, allowing König to land the killing blow. He’s about to be struck from behind with his assailant’s sword catches in the scabbard for just a moment— long enough for König to turn and fend him off. Could this be his offering at work?

He comes back. This time with an orange, and a gold piece. He gives himself a few moments to admire your form— your breasts perfect, your smile gentle and content. He uses his sword to clear a bit more debris— enough to leave you more clearly visible.

He continues to excel. Not through any supernatural strength, but due to these small strokes of luck finding him at the perfect moment. His sword striking at just the right angle to land in the chip of his enemy’s weapon, cracking it in the fault and rendering it useless. One of his arrows manages to pierce through one target and into another.

He becomes your single worshipper— and the most devoted. He brings fruits, coin, fresh cloth, milk…. And his visits become longer. He lets his hands linger when he touches the cool marble of your statue. He’s taken in a moment of weakness— infatuated with the one figure that seems to care for him— and he touches himself to your image, spilling his seed across your altar— against the red grapes he’d brought for you.

König falls asleep looking at your form. There is no plaque nor writing in your temple— he doesn’t even know your name. When he wakes, the pedestal holding your statue is empty, but he feels a warmth curled into his side, looking down to see you finishing the last of a stem of grapes.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, nsfw, morally grey reader

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about your loser colleague… He’s the nerdiest guy, and he’s got the biggest, fattest crush on you—and it makes him utterly blind to all your tricks and how you manipulate him to do your work around the office like your own personal errand boy.

You’re not mean. You swear it! You’re not mean—you know it’s wrong of you to enjoy and abuse his attention like this without any intention of ever reciprocating it! Of course, you know it’s awful of you to string him along, never telling him you’re not into him like that, that he’s wasting his time on you, that he should move on. You’re a nice girl! You promise! Of course, if he were to actually confess, you’d tell him the truth at once! You’d let him down easy. But as it stands right now, he hasn’t asked—and so it’s innocent—both his unworded crush and your unspoken flattery. Sure, it might be a little narcissistic, but it’s not a crime for a girl to bask in attention!

Do you lead him on? Mh… well… not exactly. You’re being nice, is all. Sure, some might call what you do flirting back, but you act that way with plenty of people, not just him. If he reads into it, that’s on him. Right?

Okay, fine, so you’re a little mean. So what? Is it really so wrong of you to play with him just a little bit? No. Or… at least not entirely. Think about it—in a way, you’re making his day with your little tricks. How you return his long longing stares with your own lingering looks and coy smiles—taking him outside with you to smoke during your break, talking to him in giggles over small inside jokes you’ve developed between just the two of you, applying your lipgloss all exaggeratingly as they do in the movies, borrowing his jacket when it gets too cold for you in your inappropriate tops, squeezing your arms tightly over your chest, making your tits squish up to meet him and his shameful leer.

Truly, adults shouldn't act this way—but you just can’t help yourself!

And it’s not as if he isn’t equally guilty! Looking at you like that! It’s not as if you don’t know exactly what perverted little thoughts go tumbling through his head—picturing you naked in compromising positions, probably playing with your image like a toy doll, dressing you up in kinky clothes to fit all his dirty fantasies, making you say all sorts of vile things for him.

You’re both awful! So it’s fine. A quid pro quo, as they call it. A tit for tat if you’re nasty.

And honestly, a nerdy guy like him should know better. A pretty girl like you—popular and a sweetheart, to top it all off—he can’t seriously believe he has an actual chance, can he? Of course not—that would make him delusional. You’re not torturing him. In any case, he’s torturing himself!

And you seriously think he might just keep it up forever.

But you might be going too far this time—laying it on too thick—stretching him too thin—asking him to drive you home after an office party, giggling and all but moaning all your words in the passenger seat next to him, wearing nothing but a short little black slip, no bra, no nothing except for a pair of strappy little heals. 

“Oh! What a night—these shoes are killing me!” you sigh while taking them both off as he drives. Even in your drunk state, you can see the way his hands tighten around the wheel and how he shifts all uncomfortably in his seat, breathing thickly—it makes you smile.

You throw your head back in relief once they’re both off—chest jutting forth as you rub your thighs together. And he swallows thickly—jaw clenched so tight, he couldn’t say anything even if he had anything to say. But you know he doesn’t—you, with your milky skin on display, have rendered him speechless. 

Your smile curls at the corners, and you know it’s cruel, but you have absolutely no idea how to reel it in anymore. He makes you feel like an untouchable goddess being worshipped—makes you want to laugh as he bows his head in the dirt and prays to you with all he has.

Oh, the poor boy, you’ve got him wound so tightly around your little finger—you don’t even know how to release him anymore. You’re both in way too deep, it’s getting hard for either of you to think clearly anymore.

“I’ll follow you in—just to make sure you get to bed safely,” he offers once stopping outside your place. And lost to the wine in your bloodstream, you haven’t the slightest little hang-up over how he knows your address without having asked.

Completely oblivious, you keep floating on cloud nine, smiling while murmuring, “What a nice guy~ How ‘bout you carry me up the steps as well—” 

You’d meant it as a tease, but he takes it in all manners of seriousness, rounding the car, opening your door, and then scooping you up before your bare feet even have the chance of meeting the pavement below—but you don’t complain.

Only cheering, “Oh~” 

It’s surprising, maybe even a little bit impressive. He’s tall, but he looks more lean than anything—like an overgrown boy—a far cry from a rugged man of strength, but here he is, acting just so, carrying you like a princess—with ease, you might add. But you suppose it’s been hard for you to tell his true build from beneath those big, cozy sweaters he always wears. Resting on it now, you can tell his chest is actually quite firm.

“I didn’t know you were so strong~" You keep flirting, paying no mind to how his hands grope into your exposed skin—you can allow him that much. Otherwise, feeling too swept up in your own feminine guiles—aroused by your sheer seductiveness—hot and bothered and thinking you’re going to touch yourself to yourself tonight and laugh about how you have the poor office loser waiting on you, hands and knees.

You find your keys in your clutch and unlock the door from the cradle of his arms—before you’re carried inside like a queen, all the way to your bedroom, where he lays you down gently on your bed. 

You sigh happily at the soft, nice embrace—feeling successful while melting into the cakey mattress—all but ready to find your vibe and ride the high.  That is, until feeling a certain pair of hands start undressing you.

“Hey—what’re you doing?” you jolt, gripping your dress in a panic—looking shock-eyed into his round ones.

“Just making you comfortable,” he says softly, looking a little bit like a kicked pup—making your nerves return calm. 

Oh, of course, he is—you can’t blame a guy for trying. However, there are limits to what’s allowed in this little game of yours. And you think that’s crossing one.

“Thanks, but…” You chuckle—faking being shy while batting your lashes. “That wouldn’t be appropriate. You see—” Voice sultry as you admit, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

How you have the gall to keep teasing him is beyond you, and so you keep blaming it all on liquid courage—otherwise, certain the devil is making you do it.

“Thanks for taking me home, though.”

You smile before turning to rest on your side, facing away from where he stands by your bedside with hope in his poor eyes—oh, you almost feel bad—if only your well-fed ego weren’t already making you feel on top of the world. 

“You can leave the key beneath the welcome matt. Drive safely. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Eyes closed in bliss while grinning from ear to ear, you’ve come to terms with your terrible nature and have found the perfect way of sleeping at night despite it. Your poor colleague, so hopelessly infatuated with you and such a sucker for it—making you relive your mean girl queen bee school days all over again.

It’s the drink! You swear! It makes you feel all types of demonic—wanting to play with your favorite toy—see just how far you can take it before making him break. But, as always, one should be careful what one wishes for.

“You know…” A dark voice occupies your bedroom. From behind you. You’d thought he’d left already—gone out to his car to beat his blue-balled cock to his fantasy of you, but no. 

“Playing hard to get is one thing…” he continues. “Being a stuck-up bitch is another.”

You try to whip around, but it’s too late by then.

“You’ve had your fun with me. It’s time I have my fun with you.”

Nothing could have prepared you for his sudden change—the moment when all your teasing and tricks finally made him snap! 

He’s on top of your back. Straddling you—a heavy hand in your hair, pushing your face back down into the soft mattress below, while the other hand picks your dress up, pulling over your butt and leaving it exposed.

“Hey! What are you—” You try to make him calm down—to stop—but it’s as though nothing you say has any impact—or, no—instead, it has the complete opposite effect of what you want.

A sharp feeling blossoms across your ass cheek. It takes a moment before you realize he’d hit you—spanked you.

His grip on your hair tightens, pulls your face up to meet him where he leans down to your ear—voice venom-laced and shy of unhinged, “You’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, haven’t you? Teasing and toying with me—thinking I’ll just sit back and take it.”

His hand digs between your thighs—slipping through despite how you mend them shut—now dragging his fingers through your puffy slit, forcing two inside your tightly needy hole, uncaring to the cry it reaps from you.

“I’m the one who made your pussy wet like this, so it’s only right I have my way with it.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Nanami, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kageyama ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[anqelically]

THE MOMENT THEY WANTED TO MARRY YOU

FEATURING. sanemi shinazugawa, giyuu tomioka, obanai iguro & mitsuri kanroji

WARNINGS. gn!reader, fluff, comfort, hcs in drabble form, reader and iguro are naked (no nsfw), hints to iguro’s past

NAVI | KNY MASTERLIST

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA realized he wanted to marry you one day when he came home late at night to find you asleep at the dining table, apparently waiting for him. after the loss of most of his family, the shinazugawa brothers had moved into your home after you offered. you lost your mother to an illness not too long after, making it only you three who inhabited the tiny home.

you always cared for sanemi, and sanemi had always cared for you. so when you learned of his nightly activities, it worried you. sometimes he’d come home with torn clothes, and other days sanemi returned with fresh wounds. if you hadn’t fallen asleep by then, you’d dress his wounds tenderly. it wasn’t any better after joining the demon slayer corps.

the thought of him putting himself in danger like that gnawed at your stomach the first few weeks. but then time passed, and you no longer feared as much. there was always a possibility of losing sanemi, but he proved himself to be strong, both physically and in drive. though, you always prayed for his safety.

your upper body leaned on the low table, chest rising and falling as sanemi approached. the meal you set for him had grown cold a long time ago, but he’ll eat it regardless. first, the boy was going to carry you to your futon. though, the sight of a sleeping genya, whose head rested on your thigh, made him pause.

in his sleep, the young boy clung to your figure. and it was no wonder you only supported your head on the table with one arm, the other one rested on genya’s back. it must’ve been uncomfortable for you, yet you remained in that position for hours, awake or not.

the first one sanemi carried to their respective futon was genya. he was much heavier than before, the older boy thought. he was glad that genya was growing properly, especially with how much you fed him. the black-haired boy loved your cooking so much he almost always ate nearly half of it.

sanemi eventually carried your slouched form to your futon. he set you down gently before placing your blanket over the lower half of your body. you got warm easily, so sanemi knew it would be best to not cover you completely.

the moonlight shone on your sleeping figure as sanemi brushed your stray hairs away from your face. his eyes traveled from you to the cold plate on the table. always so caring, you were. his gaze then landed on genya, who you always treated as your own brother.

sanemi, despite the many things he has yet to comprehend, was sure of one thing— his love for you. the two of you were still teenagers, but he was sure of his feelings. as his fingers traveled from your forehead to your cheek, cupping your face lightly, there was only a single thought that occupied his mind.

one day, in a world free of demons, he’d take your hand and ask you to be his.

it was when you were crying in his arms that GIYUU TOMIOKA knew that he wanted your hand in marriage. although he was skilled, he was rendered unconscious during a mission after slaying two demons with tricky demon blood arts. although he was only unconscious from night till the next afternoon, you couldn’t help but worry.

you were no demon slayer, so the thought of your partner being bedridden had scared you. you rushed to his bedside when giyuu’s crow informed you of his state. and as you sat by his sleeping form, the little butterfly estate girls told you that although he was littered with cuts, none of them were deep.

part of you always believed that giyuu was invincible. even though you knew he was the highest rank in the demon slayer corps, he never came home with worrying injuries. a few small cuts here and there were all treated by you before the two of you fell into bed.

seeing giyuu’s bare torso covered in white patches reminded you that giyuu was not invincible, and even someone skilled like him was vulnerable to injury.

compared to the corps members that already died before giyuu was assigned the mission, he was barely harmed. but since you didn’t see it that way, he saw the tears that brimmed your eyes after he woke up. your hug was gentle as if you’d hurt him if you squeezed him tight.

giyuu snaked his arms around your waist as you cried and told him how you worried for him. your words, even your tears alone spoke volumes about how much you cared for him. the black-haired man held you tighter, knowing that he cared for you just as much, and one day hoped to show you by proposing with a ring fit only for you.

you and OBANAI IGURO were lying bare in bed the moment he realized he wanted to marry you. it was late at night and the two of you had your limbs tangled together underneath a thick blanket, skin-to-skin for half an hour in near darkness. the muted moonlight that shone through the shoji door was only enough to outline the other’s figure.

obanai’s skin burned beneath your smooth fingers, the gentle touch scorching his very being. you always had that effect on him, especially when he was most vulnerable to you, when he was bare.

your fingers brushed the skin of his cheeks, lightly touching the part of his face that he always kept bandaged up. your fingers ran over the bumpy skin once more before you cupped his cheeks, pressing your forehead to his.

there were a few nights you’d spend like this. though, it was always so dark. you wanted to see your lover in full, but knowing how he felt about it, you never forced him to. after all, it had taken you some time to get used to the reminder of your own past; the large scar that ran from your chest to your belly button.

you laid your head back onto your pillow before you asked him if it was okay to light up a candle although you expected him to politely decline. instead, he hesitated before saying you could. after you asked once more to be sure, the black-haired man decided to light the candle for you.

his face, illuminated by the candlelight, turned towards you. obanai watched as you crawled towards him and sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. you told him that his beauty never failed to make you awe as he snaked his hands onto your hips.

you smiled at him lovingly before you laid your head in the crook of his neck, finding comfort in your position. he tucked back a piece of your hair before resting his cheek atop your head. obanai thought someone as tainted as him didn’t deserve such love from you, someone so pure. however, you wandered into his arms with no argument, embracing his being. obanai was sure that when the time was right, he’d marry you under your favorite cherry blossom tree.

the two of you were having brunch when MITSURI KANROJI realized she wanted to marry you one day. being the absolute bundle of joy she was, mitsuri was excited about the brunch the two of you planned days before. you’d be coming over to her estate, so the woman made sure to have lots of food prepared.

you arrived at mitsuri’s estate earlier than planned with a tray of sakura mochi you made just for her. although she ushered you to the dining room while she rushed the rest of her cooking and baking outside, you couldn’t help but wonder what was taking her so long. and when you realized it was because mitsuri was running all over the place to pay attention to everything she was cooking at once, you opted to help her.

you smiled at the love hashira, telling her she didn’t have to do all of this by herself, especially since she was providing for their meal. with a blossoming pink dusted across her cheeks, mitsuri thanked you and the two of you finished soon enough.

with everything set on the table, the two of you dug in. mitsuri babbled about her recent adventures like always, and you listened with a small smile on your face. from the moment you met, mitsuri was always so bright. the happiness she had always oozed out of her being and spread onto you, though you’ve never minded it.

while you found yourself lost in admiring her, another blush made its way onto mitsuri’s cheeks. your fond stare nearly made her heart melt when she noticed it. setting down her bowl, she felt her heart race against her chest as a certain thought crossed her mind.

you seemed to have caught yourself and quickly coughed before eating some of the fluffy pancakes she had made, commenting on how good they tasted. mitsuri giggled before she grinned endearingly. if you got married one day, then maybe the happiness of sharing a single meal would continue forever. truthfully, she wished that day would come soon.

NOTE. i was so into sanemi’s coming up with the other 3’s was a bit difficult 😓 sorry it’s a bit ooc (imo) this is my warm up dw

—requests are open + join my taglist !

@aureatchi @soleelia

[goatgoesmbe]

Sugardaddy!Price

...

Being John Price's sidechick

Where he's already married.

And you're just his second choice.

plz trust the plot yall

Well you shouldn't really expect anything more with him in the first place when you agreed to be his sugar baby.

But with how he treated you, how could you not?

He made sure all your wants were met and more. Most of the time you didn't even need to ask, he would just know somehow. Boxes of designer clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry at your doorsteps.

That gruff voice of his sounded gentle when he spoke to you, causing butterflies to flutter in your belly. Low timbre that made your core purr whenever he whispered sinful things in your ear as he encapsulated you with pure pleasure. And even when his tone was more tender, uttering something innocent like simply asking about your day- it would still get you to squeeze your thighs together.

His touches made your skin blister, sent shivers down your spine, leaving you breathless. You could still feel them when he was not around, it made you shiver. Longing for more. For him.

You glanced at the ring on his finger, one he didn't even bother to take off when he first approached you.

Does he treat the missus at home the same way?

It was your own fault really, you put yourself in this situation. You should have said that you were not interested at that time. You should feel horrible- a voice at the back of your mind said.

You didn't know what were you thinking.

Well.. you didn't think, that's the problem.

But how could you? With his smile rendering your brain useless, wired neurons malfunctioning when he sets his eyes on you.

Sometimes when he thought you were still asleep, you caught him smiling at his phone. Some other times, he unconsciously fidgeted with said ring.

Seemed like he had a good thing going on with the missus, why did he come to you then?

Men, you sighed. The hypocrite that you are, snuggling to his hairy chest.

...

John wasn't the first one who took interest in you that night.

It was one of his beloved, Kyle, who squeezed his hand under the table to get his attention before pointing at you with his chin.

John saw that look in his eyes, and the others. He looked around and noticed Simon and Johnny stopped exchanging spit to look at you too.

Pretty thing that you are. With your tight little dress and sweet-looking face, looking innocent yet so sinful effortlessly.

They want you.

But of course, they couldn't just waltz over all at once. They didn't know your preference yet, what you would be comfortable with.

They were in it for a long run after all, not just a quick fuck. Til death do us part.

John was the leader, in and out of of their job. He was also the most experienced, even if Kyle argued he was the most charming of them all. Johnny was too eager, and Simon was.. Simon.

And so John made his move.

A tempting bait that you bit without a second thought.

He gave the updates of his progress with you to the others. Sending candid pictures, and even recording of your sweet moans that he took without you knowing.

...

Kissing the top of your head when you snuggled to him, he smiled when he saw the eagerness of his partners in the groupchat.

He expected you wouldn't escape their grasp now that you've bonded with him.

It's about time for you to meet the others after all.

Next

[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ CAUGHT RED HANDED PART 2

જ⁀➴ The LADS guys catch you masturbating.

ﾉ including: Zayne

ﾉ cw: afab!reader, no pronouns used, masturbation, getting caught, oral (reader receiving), mentions of fingering, consent king Zayne, petname "Darling"

ﾉ wordcount: 1.1k

ﾉ info: As feared, i escalated with the headcanons. Rafayel and Sylus follow next week! ﾉ Requests are OPEN!

-> Xavier

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

✶࿐ Zayne

♡ You had clear orders from Doctor Zayne; Rest for a few days, eat meals regularly, hydrate and take your meds. He wouldn't need to tell you that he expected to hear from you at least twice a day, you'd blow up his phone like you usually would when you were injured and bored.

♡ Today however you spent your day sleeping, bathing and binge watching your latest tv-show, you completely forgot that time and space exist and that a certain doctor would grow worried if he wouldn't hear from you and how well you listened to his orders.

♡ Out of nowhere the mood hit you and your hand slowly traveled over your thighs, teasing yourself by touching yourself close to your core, but never quite where you needed it.

♡ By the time you finally peeled off your clothes, you were dripping wet, the teasing made you even needier than you already were, your panties drenched with your arousal.

♡ Carelessly, you tossed them to the floor and propped your feet up on the living room table, your thighs spread wide and your folds glistened with arousal.

♡ Your fingers danced over your folds before gently rubbing circles over your clit until your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled.

♡ Time didn't exist anymore in this moment, the sounds from your TV slowly faded into the background and the pleasure overwhelmed you to the point where you didn't hear your phone vibrate or the knocks on your door.

♡ Zayne grew worried after hearing nothing from you all day, so he decided to go past your place to cook a nice meal for you and to make sure you were looking after yourself.

♡ When you didn't react to messages or the rather loud knocks he grew concerned. What if you fell and couldn't get up? Pressing his ear against the door didn't make things better.

♡ All he heard were whines, whimpers and the occasional groan, which let his mind run wild. Did you fall and hit your head on the kitchen counter? Were you in pain and couldn't call for help?

♡ He decided that he had enough, swiftly typing in the code to your apartment, but the view was everything but a half dead person, rendered helpless and possibly bleeding on the floor.

♡ Zayne couldn't help but let his eyes wander for just a second, but the grocery bags already slipped out of his hands, only to land on the floor with a loud thud.

♡ Your eyes flew open at the noise and you instinctively closed your legs and reached for a couch pillow to shield your nakedness from the intruder, your eyes widening in utter shock when it was Zayne.

♡ He tried to be respectful, his eyes trained on your face despite having seen your body in different states of undress before. But this was different. He was Doctor Zayne in these past instances - and you certainly weren't touching yourself then either.

♡ His eyes looked colder than usual, hungry, needy and it was hard to miss how every muscle in his body tensed up with restraint.

♡ “Don't,” a single word slipped from his lips as if it was an order, but he didn't move an inch, leaving you the choice if you disregard his orders as usual or if you will follow them for once.

♡ Your tight grip on the pillow loosened, fingers almost going slack which made the pillow slip down enough to reveal the valley of your breasts. With a rather helpless look you looked up at the man from your seated position and nodded your head - giving him consent.

♡ Zayne almost missed the slight movement of your head but your body language grew less offensive and more desperate with each passing second.

♡ “I should scold you for making me worry,” he breathed out as he stalked over to the couch where you sat, which made you feel like prey under his intense gaze.

♡ “You can also help me instead,” your voice was breathy from how close you were and it was as if every last bit of restraint left Zayne with your words.

♡ The usually reserved man dropped to his knees between your legs and kissed along your inner thighs all the way to your mound.

♡ “Tell me to stop,” again, it sounded more like an order but you knew what he meant. He wanted to respect you, to keep you at a certain distance and not cross this line but at the same time he needed you like his lungs needed oxygen to breathe.

♡ You simply shook your head and ran your hand through his soft, dark hair. You shouldn't let him, but you've been fantasizing about him all day already, imagining his hands playing with your pussy instead of your own.

♡ “What if I don't want you to stop?” You ask simply and you could swear that you saw the corners of his lips curl into the smallest smirk known to mankind.

♡ “When will you ever listen to me, darling?” He sounded defeated as his breath fanned over your exposed pussy before he closed the small distance.

♡ A relieved sigh left your lips when Zayne’s tongue dragged through your folds in a zigzag motion and his eyes rolled back the moment your juices melted on his tongue.

♡ Your hand reached down again to thread your fingers through his hair, gently pulling on the fine strands which made him eat you out with more fervor, if that was even possible.

♡ “Eyes on me,” another order he breathed out the moment you closed your eyes in pure bliss, forcing yourself to look back down at the handsome man between your thighs.

♡ You didn't expect your fantasy to come true when you started to touch yourself to his image - the thought of getting caught by him was your biggest fear, but you realized it was nowhere near as scary when it actually happened.

♡ Watching Zayne slowly losing his composure to the point where he was eating you out like a man starved was enough to have you whimpering his name, slowly panting like a bitch in heat from how good he made you feel.

♡ “Come for me, darling,” his thumb replaced his tongue momentarily while he spoke, not wanting to rob you of this pleasure before diving back in to suckle at your bundle of nerves.

♡ This was an order you would definitely listen to… not like you had any other choice as the knot in your stomach already tightened, ready to snap at any moment.

[kingkaisen]

CRUEL — Satoru G.

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: He screwed up. He knew he was going to die soon. Desperate to hear your voice just one last time, Satoru decides to call you.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only || heavy angst, character death, descriptions of blood and injuries, brief mention of smut, canonverse, friends to lovers…

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2K

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: (Spoiler warning) just to clarify, this does not follow the way Gojo died in the manga!

As Satoru Gojo stared at the bright stars in the night sky, a sad smile formed on his blood-coated, dry lips.

This death was cruel.

Not just the nature of it — his internal organs scrambled to hell, holes decorating his body, or rather, what was left of it, leaving him no choice but to lay in a pool of his own blood that turned the back of his messy white hair crimson red — but the one thing Satoru often silently prayed to a god for, to the universe, to whoever was listening, was to not die alone. Please.

But no one was around. Even the uncut grass surrounding him that would serve as his place of death was void of insects.

How cruel.

It was his fault.

A team of the strongest special-grade curses and curse users he had ever seen ambushed him in what was clearly a thoroughly planned attack. After all, they couldn’t beat him with their own strength and power. Satoru Gojo was the strongest for a reason. But they knew about his weakness: you, his best friend.

One of the curse users started spouting off personal information they had gathered about you. Your full name. Your address. They even bothered to mention how you’d often go to the grocery store every Thursday evening.

Next came the threats — the brutal, unspeakable death they wanted to subject you to.

Satoru should have known better than to lose his temper. He knew — he knew — those bastards just wanted to get him all riled up, but his better instincts fled his exhausted brain and nothing was left except burning rage.

Adrenaline worked in his favor at first. He killed them all.

But he was careless with his own life, leaving himself open to attack. And now, here he was, paying the ultimate price. Dying, and dying alone.

Cruel.

Satoru didn’t understand why he was searching around for his phone at first, patting his ripped, wet clothes. The thing was bound to be broken or soaked in his own blood by now, rendering it useless, but it was worth a shot.

Pulling it out of his right pocket made him all too aware that most of his right leg was missing. But he couldn’t think about that right now. His final thoughts wouldn’t be centered around great concern over his own body, or rather, what was left of it. They would be centered around you.

His blurry blue eyes stared at the cracked phone screen he held above his face. His finger clicked the power button, and when he saw that dull screen flicker to life, he figured that perhaps, in some sick twisted way, his prayers had been answered.

Trying to find your contact was pure hell. He could hardly see, which pissed him off greatly, because he wanted to soak in every photographed detail of the picture you and him took at the Cherry Blossom Festival last spring that served as his home and lock screen.

It would be his last time seeing that bright smile of yours. It would be his last time remembering the sweet treats you both shared. He’d always let you have the last bite.

“Why didn’t I kiss her that day?” Satoru thought. “Why haven’t I kissed her at all? What the hell is wrong with me?”

A tear rolled down Satoru’s bruised cheek. The thought of dying without having kissed you was unbearable. He had found himself in the perfect First Kiss Scenarios several times but chickened out at the last minute, thinking that he had time . . . time to build up the courage to ask you to be his. To turn a friendship into something greater.

But it was too late now.

It wasn’t fair.

He couldn’t die yet, he couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Not when he hadn’t yet told you he was in love with you. Not when his lips haven’t touched your soft ones in a deep, passionate kiss. He imagined it quite often. Pulling you close, his hands either on your waist or cradling your breathtaking face. The kiss would last until your lungs burned from a lack of significant air, or until both of your unwavering urges to smile interrupted it.

He hadn’t touched your body beyond the regular, friendly ‘hey, how are you?’ hugs and your cuddling sessions on the couch during monthly movie nights. What would it have been like? To have your warm figure underneath him, your faces inches apart, as you moaned his name softly?

Perhaps, having sex with you would spell the difference between hooking up with someone versus making love, because when he closed his eyes at night and imagined your first time together, those sinful thoughts were lust-filled, that much was true, but at its core, they were romantic. He vividly pictured the sight of your stunning eyes. Holding your hand during. Running a warm bubble bath for you afterward. All of those little, heart-warming things; he imagined it more than the sex itself.

But it was too late now.

It wasn’t fair.

At the very least, he hoped he could hear your voice one last time. You truly loved to ramble. Hearing you go on, on, and on about whatever crossed your mind was one of the circumstances that made him fall for you, as it always made his heart skip a beat.

Now, he wanted to hear you go on, on, and on about whatever crossed your mind as his heart started to give out.

Satoru dialed your number, pressed the speaker button, and rested his phone on his slow-rising chest. He waited. After a couple of rings, your voice, filled with blissful unawareness, came through his phone.

“Damn it, ‘Toru. Your phone call made me lose my game,” you said playfully. “What’s up?”

“Sorry.” Satoru’s voice was hoarse. Lower than usual. Lacking its usual enthusiastic tone.

“You okay?” You asked worriedly.

“I’m fine . . . just woke up from a nap . . . is all.”

“At this hour? It’s almost time for bed!” You paused. Satoru could hear you sip something — must’ve been another cup of that new, flavored tea you purchased last week and raved about on a daily basis, he guessed.

Continuing on, you said, “Well, anyway, if you want some company, you could come over and spend the night. You were coming over tomorrow for dinner anyway.”

“I won’t be able to make it.” A string of blood slipped from Satoru’s mouth as he spoke.

“Oh, well, no worries. You’re still coming tomorrow then, right? I got everything we need to try to make noodles from scratch. You wouldn’t believe how long the line was at the grocery store today. This lady tried to cut in front of me, claiming she had ice cream or something, and I was like, boo-fucking-hoo, I have ice cream too. I let her cut in front of me though ‘cause she handed me five dollars. That’s just how long the line was. People were paying other people to get in front of them. Let that sink in. Crazy, right?”

That was right. It was Thursday. Your favorite shopping day. If Satoru had the energy, he’d smile at the thought of you strolling around a store, smiling happily at the sight of your favorite snacks being on sale.

“Tell me more about . . . about your day,” Satoru asked weakly. He wanted to hear your voice. He had to hear you ramble to him, just one last time. God, he loved it more than anything.

“Hmm,” you shuffled around a bit. “Well, I didn’t do much. Aside from grocery shopping, I spent some time playing that game I told you about, walking around town, um, that’s about it I think. Oh! I found this cute shop selling mochi! I bought you some. It was a brand-new shop too. It still smells like fresh paint in there. The owner was nice as well. There was this other place selling lemon milk, which sounds kinda gross, but it’s basically just creamy lemonade I think, but I could be wrong. I think I’ll let you waste your money and try it before I do, just in case it’s disgusting. But yeah, that was my day. How was yours?”

“I’ve had better days. I don’t really . . .”

Satoru was cut off by his own choking. He coughed, then coughed again, coating his chin with that crimson-red fluid.

“‘Toru? Are you sure you’re okay? Are you sick or something? Is that why you took a nap?”

“Don’t you worry about me,” Satoru whispered.

He wasn’t certain you heard him at first, as you were quiet for a brief moment.

“No, no, I’m gonna worry about you. I’m always gonna worry about you,” you said. This time, it was Satoru’s turn to meet your words with silence.

“‘Toru?” You called out.

He tried to speak. He wanted to. But he could only cough and choke. Choke and cough.

“Okay, I’m on my way to your house. You sound horrible, like when someone’s drinking water and it goes down the wrong pipe, you know?”

“I’m not home,” Satoru responded.

“Where are you then?”

He could hear the worry in your voice.

“Satoru, where the hell are you? What’s going on?”

He coughed. More crimson-red.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m checking your location. You’re scaring me right now.” You paused for a moment, and when you spoke again, your voice was distant. Satoru gathered that you had put him on speaker as you checked your phone for his whereabouts. “You’re . . . it looks like you’re in the middle of nowhere. I’m on my way. What exactly happened? Were you walking to the store or something and passed out? When I get there, you’re going straight to the ER, I don’t care if you just have a small cold-”

“I’ll be dead by the time you get here, sweetie.”

The silence that followed his words snapped his slow-beating heart into pieces, because just as his heart was shattered, your world was as well, and he couldn’t stand being the reason for your suffering.

Another tear fell from his blue eyes, splattering onto the grass below him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so . . . sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe-” Satoru coughed again.

“You’re messing with me, right? This is some sort of prank or-or sick joke?” Your shaky voice softened. “Right?”

Satoru stared at the luminous stars above. They reminded him of you. Bright and pretty.

“Look up. The stars are bright and pretty like my sweetie,” he once said to you amidst a late-night walk.

You gave him a goofy grin that matched his own, swatting at the hand he pinched your cheek with. “Stop it, that’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard. And it doesn’t even rhyme.”

“Yeah it does, depending on how you say the word pretty. I’m the poet-in-the-making here.”

“It doesn’t rhyme, you fool.”

The corner of Satoru’s lips twitched as if his soul wanted him to smile at the memory. But he refused to waste his dwindling strength on smiling. He needed his strength for something else right now: to tell his sweetie the truth.

Because, damn it all, he refused to die without you knowing how he truly felt about you. It was the best he could do, seeing as he would never, ever get the chance to kiss you.

How cruel.

“Listen . . . I know we’re just friends, but . . . I’m in love with you. I wish I told you sooner, sweetie. But I kept it to myself ‘cause . . . I didn’t wanna fall in love with you. Loving someone means having someone you could lose, and the thought of losing you killed me . . . I couldn’t handle it. But now, there’s nothing about you that I don’t love. You don’t know what your smile does to me. And I could listen to you talk for hours, nonstop. I’m pretty sure I already have. I love hearing your awful jokes, and hearing you sing, even when you’re out of tune. It still sounds perfect . . . to me. I love the little frown you make when you can’t make decisions . . . the way your eyebrows would pinch together . . . then you’d always a-ask me. What milk to buy . . . if you should mop first or do laundry first . . . what to have for lunch. God, you’re just so-” Satoru coughed. Crimson red.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I know you never believe me when I tell you that, but you are. My eyes weren’t prepared to handle the sight of your pretty face the first time we met. I had a headache for three days. Three days. I swear it’s the truth. That’s just how gorgeous you are to me. And I wish I could see you one last time. No . . . no I wish . . . I wish I could’ve kissed you. I’ll never get the chance now, not in this life at least. I don’t know h-how any of this . . . afterlife mess works, but I hope . . . I’ll get to see you again. I really . . . I really . . . I re . . .”

His words were becoming incomprehensible. His eyelids felt heavy. The twinkling stars above seemed less like stars, but blobs of fuzzy light.

“Satoru? Please, keep talking. I need you to keep talking,” you said.

He could hear the rumbling engine of your car through the phone.

“. . . Trying,” Satoru mumbled, though uttering that word? It took more energy than it should have.

“This can’t be happening. Not you, ‘Toru, not you. I can’t lose you. I-I won’t be able to handle it . . . I can’t handle it.”

He heard you sniffle as you started to cry. He could imagine the tears streaming down the soft cheeks he wanted to stroke and kiss so desperately.

“Satoru?” You called out urgently when he didn’t respond.

“I’m here,” he whispered, but the words that rolled off of his red tongue were so low, you couldn’t hear him. He wanted to scream it, but he couldn’t speak above that pathetic whisper so easily carried away by the brisk wind.

How cruel.

“Come on, Satoru! Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me,” you cried. “Please don’t die, don’t do this to me . . .”

Satoru closed his eyes — an act that wasn’t of his own choosing.

It felt as if he was falling asleep. Falling asleep while floating in a pool or lake. But, in reality, he was dying in a pool of his own blood.

—

“‘Toru!”

The loud shout of his name made his eyes snap open.

Just how much time had passed?

He wasn’t staring at the stars above, but at you, his sweetie. Your face was right above his.

His breathing sped up. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of you, and more and more uncountable tears fell from his eyes. The sight of you alone was quite literally taking his breath away.

“Oh my god. I found you,” you fell to your knees in the blood-soaked grass, pulling his head in your lap as gently as you could. “The ambulance is right behind me. They can fix this, right?”

“You’re . . . here,” Satoru whispered. You leaned down, turning your head to the side until your ear was practically pressed against his lips, trying to hear his barely audible words. “I won’t . . . die . . . alone.”

“That’s right. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” you sniffled. You turned your head, your eyes staring at his lips.

You kissed them without a thought. Damn the blood, damn it all — this was not how you wanted your first kiss with your best friend to go, but you knew from his confession that it was his dying wish. You could feel Satoru use his little energy to kiss you back with as much passion as a dying man could. Your tears splattered against his cheeks.

When you pulled away and moved back a smidge, your face only an inch away from his, you whispered, “And I love you too. Do you hear me?”

His messy white hair — no, it was practically red now, crimson red — shifted as he nodded weakly, his hair tickling your face.

“Can you . . .” Satoru paused. You turned your head yet again, almost ear to lip. He tried to speak once more. “Can you . . . talk to me?”

“About what?”

“Anything,” he coughed. His blood sprayed across your cheek and nose. Crimson red. “Hurry. Sweetie, please hurry.”

His eyelids were getting heavy. Call it a feeling from his impaired gut, but he gathered that when his eyes closed this time, they wouldn’t open again. The faint sirens he heard in the distance couldn’t save him.

All he wanted now was to hear his sweetie ramble on, on, and on.

“Do you remember when we-we went on that trip to the beach together a few years ago?” You stroked his forehead with your trembling fingers, staring into his glassy eyes. “That stupid seagull took my sandwich, and you tried to avenge me, but the seagull won that fight. I’ve never seen someone run away from something so fast in my life. Remember that? You, um, bought me a new sandwich afterward and spent our entire beach trip trying to fight a bird. You wouldn’t hurt it for real, even though you could have. You’re too kind for that, even if it did yank your hair at one point. You probably didn’t get a chance to notice how beautiful that beach was, though. So vast and blue. I couldn’t help but imagine what it would have felt like to get married there. When I had that thought at the time, the only person I could imagine as the groom was you. That’s when I knew I was in love with my best friend. I knew that I’d . . . life . . . you . . .”

Satoru could no longer understand the final words you would ever say to him. He couldn’t hear you anymore.

His eyes closed. He couldn’t see you anymore.

The last thing he felt was your hand shaking his shoulder as if trying to awaken him from death itself, but as his chest rose and fell one last time, he couldn’t feel you anymore either.

How cruel.

♡ — @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @thequeenofcurses @he11okitty-mari @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @ellaumbrella1 @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @deadrevenge @koikohib @http-bell

[amalasdraws]

https://www.tumblr.com/bigmammallama5/732632789726478336?source=share do you have any tips on how to detect ai and deepfakes?

Good question and I'm gonna be honest, it's not always easy and it will only get harder and harder. I'm just an artist who has spent their personal time to dive into this topic and study images. I'm still learning and there is a lot I don't know. But let me show what I know. This will be long, but I will make a summary at the end! So far, even with ai having become better and better there are still almost always some things wrong with an image, and they all have a very specific look to them. So let me try to show you some and point out some of them.

As we all know, a biggest struggle ai had were hands. And even though here and there we still see messed up hands, I say "had", because the hands is actual a good example on how ai is improving and will only get better. Still, looking at pictures that show more hands is always worth it, because somewhere in the back there will be most likely at least one messed up hand.

Another issue a lot of ai still has is hair though!

It's very obvious still in many ai "drawings" and in those otherwise well rendered portraits. Hair starts to blend with the ears a lot, or with the clothes.

There is also often this very odd look between something too sharp and way too blurry

There is often a very specific texture to the hair. I actually do not know the artistic or specific name for it. I can only describe it as this weird sharp feeling that makes it look oddly pixely, and then you have areas where it's very blurry. And the kind of loops and almost flame like looking hair we see in the last pic out of the three here is also something very common with ai.

As an artist I know we make mistakes too! The way I draw hair is flawed too! But it's not only that it's flawed here, but it's following always the same pattern and falls into the same issues over and over again, no matter who is "creating" the image. Those flame like loops are a common one, next to the odd blends and weird sharp and blurry textures.

But ai is getting better, and we not only have "art" and something that tries to be a drawing/painting, but photos too.

A lot of those "photos" have a very specific texture and look to them! Again, it's not always the mistakes, but the very specific optic too. A lot of the images are oddly smooth, too rendered, with always blurry backgrounds. And when you look closer at the background you will see the mistakes! The crowd behind Jesus is a hot mess once you look closer. Bob Marley's hair has the same issue than I described before. Lincoln is surrounded by people with messed up hands and don't even get me started on the faces behind Caesar.

So a lot of ai images look alright on a first and quick glance, but as more time you spend with them, as more mistakes you will notice. The wehre is Waldo of ai horror.

And those "photos" shared here are still very obvious. Not just the mistakes and messed up details but the very specific aesthetic too.

Those images get better and better and as less details you have, as less mistakes you have!

With photos like this it becomes harder and harder. There are not many details and no hands. Not many mistakes can be made. Also the very obvious plastic looking smoothness isn't so much here anymore. It kinda still is...but differently. And always the blurry background!! Sometimes the hair is still a giveaway. Collars and clothe straps are also often still a giveaway upon close look. As is jewelry. Earrings will be different and necklaces often don't go all the way around, just end, or blend with the hair or clothes.

Often details on jewelry is also blurry and not shown properly. This is a trick with many details. With jewelry, batches, hair, ears, text. So it's often blurred out and not shown properly because ai doesn't know what to really show here.

It's often really just the small details and when we scroll down quickly we will miss them. Like the wedding ring on the middle finger, the pens on top of a closed pocket, the batches that are always blurry, messed up faces that blend with a blurry background.

And sometimes it's so subtle that I could only really tell that right is the ai image in comparison to the real photo on the left. The real photo shows hands clearly and even when things are blurred out it doesn't feel that it's done to hide things. The ai image on the right hides the hands. There is also a very dead look in the eyes :D

And here I could only tell because the text in the back doesn't make sense. Even blurred out we should be able to make out something here

And after seeing a lot of ai images I recognize the kind of blurred out bg in combination with a very smooth and well rendered foreground/characters.

And here the only giveaway is a closer look at the backgrounds as well

To summarize it:

Ai and fake news rely on a fast living world. We are being bombarded with tons of information and messages daily and we scroll past quickly. But the best tool, for now, in detecting ai is taking our time! Those images get better and better but so far there are still always some things off!! Especially in the background!

Hair. Often weirdly smoothed out and oddly sharp at the same time

Hair often blends with the ears or the clothes

Details are blurred out.

Jewelry doesn't match (example earrings). Details on metal often blurred out and never shown. Necklaces blend with hair or the clothes, and don't go around the neck.

Background is always blurred out.

In this blurred mess there are often hidden very messed up faces and/or hands.

A very specific smooth and yet too sharp/too rendered aesthetic combines with an always blurry bg.

Text, especialyl in the background, is not legible and doesn't make sense.

Backgrounds are often (so far) the dead giveaway. Somewhere in the back things become muddled and messed up. This shows also very well in ai decor/architecture. There will be odd lines that don't align or align too well. Curtain poles that end in the furniture, a plant that is behind a lamp suddenly having leaves in front of the lamp. As longer you look as more you will notice.

Conclusion:

Take your time with images! Sit with them! Especially when it's framed as important and political news. Is it ai and propaganda, or did it really happen? Don't fall for the quick buzz and outrage! Some things are obvious right away but with others you have to take your time. And it's time you have! If you are still unsure if a pic is real or not, do some research on top. Image reverse search. Can you find it anywhere else? Are other news outlets sharing it? Does the image/message make sense? For example there is now a deepfake of Bella Hadid voicing support for Israel. Ask yourself, does this make sense? If it feels out of line compared to previous behavior, do some research! Media literacy is not just as being able to recognize a fake or real right away, but being able to do research. To question things! Don't just take every post online for face value. Even when shared by a mutual you trust. They might have been tricked!

There are so many information online and it's great to have access to so information, but it's also difficult to wade through all of it. Media and truth are a weapon and it's being twisted and bend used to manipulate. Always has! But ai and so many people being able to post and share things, it becomes bigger and bigger and more dangerous. So don't just take everything that is handed to you and share it further no questions asked. Media literacy and being able to think for ourselves and do the research is important!! And as research becomes harder and harder, as sources are being messed up with ai and other fake news, it's even more important to sit with the images and study them. See the flaws, the mistakes. Compare it to other news and images.

This got long, and I started to ramble at the end. Sorry But I hope this helped

[nerdygirlramblings]

They've got me in a chokehold

Elder Stigr walks off, and you watch his long, angry strides quickly close the distance between him and the rest of your village, leaving you and your gods standing with the shrines. From the corner of your eye you watch his Jon walks over to his shrine placing his hand on the curved blade of the altar. "This is beautifully rendered," he says, voice low and full of tenderness.

You know you cannot stare at the ground but it feels too dangerous to meet anyone's eyes. You flick your gaze to Jon briefly before looking out across the village. "I did my best to ensure the altars and shrines looked as they had."

A rustle of cloth and warm breath on your neck reminds you to keep better track of where each of these men are. Your people do not know who they truly are, but you cannot let yourself forget that these are gods in human form.

There's a lilt to the cadence of the voice in your ear. "Your offerings woke us, and we wanted to come thank you." Light touches on your lower back and you can't resist the shover that accompanies them. Jon is still at his altar and Si to one side. You think it's Tav behind you, hand resting possessively.

Your suspicion is confirmed moments later when Gaz steps into your line of sight and lifts one hand tenderly in his. Placing a kiss along your knuckles, he murmurs quietly, "Your daily prayers and the prayers and offerings of your people have restored our strength." It's echoes of words that chased you from dreams of them. Somehow hearing it outside your dreams is both threat and promise.

As he speaks Jon turns to you, hand still resting on his altar. "What I said at last night's feast is true. Word of your work and the miracle it brought to your people is spreading. Other villages have begun to worship us again in their own ways." He runs a hand gently over the curved blades again and looks at the other alters. "None has established shrines quite as nice as these, but that may be yet to come."

Your gaze glances between them, unsure where to look until a rough hand gently grabs your chin, tilts you to face Si. "We've come to repay what you've done and claim the life you've promised."

You inhale sharply, hand to your chest. It feels as though all the air in your lungs is gone. The sounds of chatter, of the birds, the trees, animals in the field have all ceased. The sunlight, which moments ago was causing beads of sweat to roll down your skin, feels dimmer. Cooler. As though something has pulled the life from where you stand.

Jon clears his throat and looks at Si. "Yes. But in due time. And not as you may think." He looks over at you. "There used to be 141 of us. Your ancient pantheons had deities far and wide. Because of you, we four remain, but there are others whose restoration would prove just as beneficial for your people."

John explains how your next step as seer needs to be to help revive some more of these ancient gods. Apparently the tome where you found the original ritual was only one of a larger set. Like these ancient gods, those additional tones have been lost. But Jon describes these other gods: the twinned goddesses Las and Wel, who protect women and children; Fra, who guards hearth and home; Lex, who carries messages; and paired gods Ale and Rudi, who protect travelers.

Jon explains what you need to ask the elders for, how to construct the shrines, what to offer and when. "Ask for a little at a time. Push too fast and your people will lose faith. If you can wake the others, I promise your people will flourish."

Tav's hand has stayed a heavy weight on your back this whole time. As Jon makes his proclamation, Tav's grip tightens and his voice is gruff when he says, "As you restore them, as the 141 return, we can reclaim our palace on Fjall Gothar."

"And that palace will need its queen," Gaz says warmly.

more

series masterlist | main masterlist

[dottowos]

audite me.

synopsis: You make the mistake of telling Dottore how much his voice affects you. He’s eager to test the limits of that.

includes: dottore w/ fem! reader

notes: Dottore makes you come with just his voice alone. Established relationship, voice kink, reader is blindfolded, bondage (he straps you to the examination table), no actual penetration (yet), dirty talk, praise, he just watches you and talks the whole time, brief mention of the segments fucking you, brief mention of consensual filming, reader uses no pronouns. Minors DNI.

In the midst of everything that went on in your life, Dottore’s voice was always there at the end of the day.

It was there to add to your joy when you were happy. It was there to comfort you and cut through your bad thoughts when you were sad. It was there to steady you and calm you down when you were angry. Even if you two were just having a normal conversation, his voice and words always made your heart flip in some way.

More specifically, his voice rendered you especially defenseless when you two were intimate. He could range from smooth and cooing when he was praising you, or perhaps low and rough when he was being mean, even to a high, cocky laugh if he desired to watch you struggle. It drove you crazy in a good kind of way.

The topic came up in conversation one day - the conversation being about sex. Although it was definitely quite embarrassing for you to discuss such a thing, especially when Dottore had a straight and unaffected face the whole time, the scholar required it for research. (The research being how he can make it more pleasurable the next time, how to make you come even more, if he can make you even more far gone… and of course any discomforts.) Regardless, you decided to offhandedly mention it.

“I think you should talk some more,” you offered as a suggestion. Although Dottore certainly didn’t shy away from talking while fucking you, oftentimes he let your incoherent babbling and lewd noises speak for itself.

“Is that so?” The scholar made sure to write that down as he hummed in interest. 

“Of course! I love listening to you,” you smiled, both of you well aware of when you’d listen to his tangents, especially back in the Akademiya. He always got embarrassed when you paid attention so wholeheartedly. 

“I see. How else does my voice make you feel?” You couldn’t see it, but he already had a devious plan in motion.

“Well… you know. Good!” You tried to keep your answer short because you didn’t want to verbally admit how much it affected you sometimes.

“Just good?” Dottore questioned. “I would think it would have much more of an impact if you’re bold enough to tell me.” With that, he swiftly got up from his seat and loomed over where you were sitting not too far away, with a crooked smile. “Now, I would appreciate it if you didn’t withhold any crucial details. I wonder, does my voice provide merely mental stimulation or does it extend to your body as well? Is it affecting you right now?” Your mouth opened and closed, struggling to form a response from how close he was.

“I g-guess I feel a bit tingly,” you ended up admitting, hoping he’d finally drop his teasing. Dottore pulled back with a chuckle, and you just barely let out a sigh of relief before he suddenly picked you up in his arms and started walking toward the middle of the room.

“Hey!” You squirmed in his grip but he simply patted your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“Relax,” Dottore purred. “I just want to run a test on you,” he said as if it was no big deal. “Don’t worry. I have a feeling you’ll enjoy this very much.” Although you had reason to doubt his words considering his past experiments on you, you didn’t protest much when the Harbinger laid you down on the cool examination table. But then suddenly, with the press of a button, restraints appeared to cuff your arms and legs to the table - you didn’t even know that was a feature. As quickly as that happened, the doctor began pulling off your clothes and leaving you bare, save for your underwear.

“What are you going to do?” You gasped as you tried to move around, but of course, the restraints were strong enough to mostly hinder that.

“Relax,” he repeated himself again, smiling as he patted your head. “I won’t do anything,” he stated, which obviously sounded like a lie - he was especially hands-on when it came to you.

“Huh…?” You watched as Dottore shuffled around in the drawers for something, and then produced a silky blindfold.

“This should help to strengthen your other senses,” he remarked, tying it around your eyes so your vision went dark. Now, you could only hear the clicking of his shoes as he walked away, and then returned, the sound of something dropping against another nearby table. His notes, perhaps? But before you could question him, Dottore finally spoke.

“As I said, I won’t do anything to you,” he began, starting to walk again. This time, however, you imagined he was pacing around you, eyes boring into your nude body. “I won’t touch you. And as for you… you won’t need to do anything either. You will stay there until I am satisfied.”

“Okay…”

“Are you still confused, beloved?” He chuckled, and then you could hear tapping quite close to you, presumably his fingers drumming against the table. “Today’s experiment will serve to not only indulge your desire, but also to see how much I can make your pretty pussy drip without any physical stimulation. I believe it will be quite fascinating,” you could practically hear the smile in his tone. But you, on the other hand, were very much now wiggling in a fruitless attempt to escape.

“I can’t do that! That- that’s too much!” As much as you loved his voice, not having his fingers or cock to go with it would be torturous.

“You can take it,” he reassured you, although you were pretty sure you could not, in fact, take it. “I’m not even fucking you. Surely you can handle this? Or perhaps I’ve underestimated my own power,” he commented, wondering if he’d discovered another thing to hold over your head. Some more click-clicks and scribbling against paper followed, before he spoke again.

“What to start with…” Dottore said to himself as he observed your trembling form. “The basics, I suppose.” The man walked back to you before he noticed the slight damp spot on your underwear. “Or perhaps that won’t be necessary. You seem to already be worked up. Tell me, what else should I say? Your input is very much needed and appreciated in this experiment as well.” You tried to control your racing heart and force out some words. At this point, it was better to go along with him than to deny his whims.

“Please, anything… or just tease me,” you said honestly, which made your lover contemplate for a few moments.

“But I thought you hated it when I teased you? Or was that just a lie?” You swallowed deeply and remained silent, your head fuzzy with only his voice, as your vision was completely dark, when suddenly you felt a puff of air near your ear and his voice so close to you. “I expect an answer,” Dottore demanded.

“No! I mean, yes and no at the same time,” you quickly tried to defend yourself but you didn’t have much of a good argument.

“I see… I see. That leaves me to question what times you were secretly fond of my teasing. Was it the time I kept making you come on my tongue and fingers, refusing to give you my cock? I do remember you begging me to stop and hurry up. Did you like that, love?” His deep voice and words had your chest twitching, struggling to maintain composure.

“Or maybe it’s the opposite. Did you enjoy when I properly fucked you and wouldn’t let you come on my cock? I recall you being so tearful, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you liked it.” You sniffed and eventually, you could feel tears bubbling at the corner of your eyes. Adding to his words, you could hear him pacing around you, like how a predator would circle its prey. An astute comparison, considering how he was devouring you right now. Dottore just kept listing off dirty things, watching as you cried and flailed against the restraints, trying so hard to get some kind of pleasure but failing.

“Ah, but I know one thing for sure. You’re enjoying it right now, aren’t you?” He hummed as he eyed your soaked underwear. “After all, my eyes do not deceive me.” With great precision, he quickly slipped your underwear down without touching your skin, revealing your sopping cunt. You couldn’t help but whimper, wishing his skin was against yours.  

“Please,” you choked out, a sincere plea for him to finally touch you. You waited for him to at least wipe your tears away with his fingers, but he never did. If anything, he was probably standing over you with a sick smile.

“Hmm… if I knew you were so sensitive to my voice, I would have taken some more measures. Ah, maybe I should borrow your Kamera. Yes, that would do, wouldn’t it? Recording some lines for you to touch yourself to… telling you what to do even when I’m not there… I wonder, would you listen to me or get too carried away?” Dottore laughed at the notion of you delaying your orgasm as his recorded voice ordered, simply because you were so good for him and would never want to disappoint him, even when he wasn’t there. 

“And perhaps I should get you to record yourself as well? To see whether you deserve a punishment or not?” The restraints made you unable to squeeze your thighs together, but they still allowed you to buck your hips into the air, grinding against only the air, much to your dismay. 

“Oh? You seem to favor that, don’t you?” Dottore seemed pleased with your response before his tone dropped. “But now that I think about it, even if I did provide you with that solution… would you even utilize it? You’d prefer to go to one of my segments to satisfy yourself, wouldn’t you? You’d rather be drilled by their cocks instead of waiting for me. Dirty thing,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

At this point, your cunt was aching and dripping with need, your back arching and flattening, your body twisting around for something, anything, loud pants and sighs coming from your lips. His voice was all that occupied your mind, his promises leaving you needy.

“Tell me, what vivid images are you picturing right now?” At Dottore’s question, you could briefly hear the rustling and unbuckling of something, but you weren’t sure what it was.

“I… I…”

“Go on now. This is beneficial for both of us.” Dottore began languidly stroking himself, wondering what was going on in that usually intelligent mind of yours, now pliable to his desires.

“Zandik, need you now, n-need you to…” your words died on your tongue, the growing feeling between your legs rendering your words impossible.

“Hmm… I’m not sure whether to consider this a success as your mind already seems to be gone, or a failure since I’m unable to collect more evidence. A pity. If I had to guess, however, I suppose you’re thinking about being my cumdump, yes? Seeing as that is what always happens,” Dottore said matter-of-factly, noticing how your breathing was rapidly speeding up. 

“Now, what would you prefer? Should I keep you tied up? And should I use your mouth or cunt first? But it does seem that your pussy is tired of being neglected,” he mused in false pity, watching as you wildly bucked your hips. “Yes, I’ll fill you up nice and full, and then have you clean me up like a good pet. That sounds good, doesn’t-” Before Dottore could finish his words, your flurry of incoherent words interrupted him as your juices splattered onto the examination table, your shaking legs and gasping adding further confirmation to what just happened.

“…You actually came. I must admit, even I didn’t expect that. Excellent, my dear, excellent. You truly never cease to amaze me,” Dottore praised you, his compliment swimming dumbly around in your mind. 

Your restraints and blindfold were soon removed, but your body was too tired to move around anyway. Dottore stroked your thighs gently in an effort to calm you down, but your mind was so filled with his voice that you barely noticed that the tip of his cock was now rubbing against your pussy.

“Now, darling, why don’t I fill you up with something more… substantial?”

[wileys-russo]

blurb idea! maybe mila gets into readers makeup and heels and clothes ? i'm thinking she's gotten herself a red lipstick and had fun 😂

a little red lipstick II l.williamson

part of the milaverse a little red lipstick II l.williamson

"-and it is my turn to pay next time less!" you warned your best friend who grinned as she shut off her engine in your driveway. "snooze you lose." the blonde teased, the two of you returning from a much needed spa day which the footballer had paid for before you could even blink.

"consider it your gift for giving me the most adorable god daughter in the world." the striker winked, locking her car as you made your way up to the front door, not even grabbing your house keys out before it swung open.

"mama you're back! and you brought aunty lessi!" mila cheered happily, charging forward as you were rendered a little speechless by her appearance, alessia scooping her up as the two of you

"i see someone has gotten into her mama's makeup!" alessia didn't even try to hide her amusement at the sight of the very colourful four year old in her arms. "and heels! but can't run in em." mila huffed with a scowl.

"bubba where did you-why did you-" you grabbed her face in your hands, eyes scanning the somewhat clown like makeup slapped across her eyes, cheeks and lips.

"wanna be like you mama! a very pretty girl." mila beamed poking at your own cheeks. "someones been listening to leah." alessia smirked, quickly putting your daughter down after the unimpressed glare shot her way.

"come look at my art! did you and mummy a special picture." the two of you lurched forward unexpectantly as mila grabbed a hand each and tugged you both down the hallway.

though the moment you stepped inside your bedroom, the somewhat adorable innocence of your daughter playing dress up fell dead in the water.

"oo and that is aunty lessi's cue to leave! mil i will come and pick you up for our special aquarium date tomorrow...if you live to see it." alessia mumbled the last part, ducking down to kiss your daughters cheek and not even wasting her breath addressing you as your entire focus was trained to your once cream white wall.

"bye aunty lessi! love you!" mila called after the striker who was down the hall and out the door in a millisecond, clueless to your emotions as you stared in disbelief at the wall.

"mila. wheres mummy?" you asked calmly, jaw clenched and exhaling slowly through your nostrils, eyes still locked on the patterns scribbled in bright red lipsticks all over the once clean wall.

"playing her games and yelling at aunty gee! oh mummy said a bad word, a lot of bad words." mila relayed as you inhaled deeply, very slowly lowering yourself down to be at her level.

"mila. bubba what you did to the wall? was very naughty. when you want to draw you have your coloring books and your pens, you only use those, and never ever on a wall and especially not with mamas makeup. do you understand?" you spoke calmly but firmly, your stomach flipping at the immediate way the four year olds face fell and her bottom lip began to quiver.

"i'm sorry!" you almost fell backwards as tiny limbs locked around your neck in a steel tight hug. "i know. but what happens when we're naughty mil?" you gently wrenched her arms off you as much as it killed you to do so, using your thumb to wipe away the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

"timeout?" "timeout." you confirmed with a nod, standing back up and offering the tiny blonde your hand, preparing yourself for a tantrum but to both your surprise and relief it never came, mila taking your hand and allowing you to lead her away to the timeout corner.

"you're four years old, so four minutes. you stay sitting here with your bum on the floor and your back on the wall and you do not move until mama comes back and gets you, okay?" you reminded, mila nodding with a little half sob and sniffle, and again it took all of your willpower not to just crumble and scoop her back up.

but you knew you couldn't or else she'd never learn right from wrong, so with a countdown set on your phone you left her be, stomping away instead to go and strangle your wife who sure enough was exactly where you thought she'd be.

"leah catherine!" you yelled, almost kicking in the half open door to her office as the blonde didn't even flinch, back to you and clunky dyson headphones covering her ears, fifa loaded on the monitor in front of her as she sat with her feet up on her desk.

but that ignorance didn't last more than a few seconds once you'd burst in, headphones yanked right off her as the girl let out a yell of surprise, chair toppling over as your wife went thumping to the ground.

"babe what the fuck!" leah groaned clutching her side where the arm of the chair had dug in, scrambling for the controller which you swiftly kicked out of the way.

"i'm in the middle of a game!" leah whined, mouth forming an o at the way you stepped forward and yanked the chord out from the console sending everything black.

"where is our daughter leah?" "she's playing dress up! now why the hell did you-" "where is she playing leah?"

but finally glancing up and seeing the all too familiar look in your eyes your wife fell silent. "i'm beginning to think i'm in trouble." the blonde smiled nervously as she sat up and you laughed bitterly.

"oh that is not even the half of it leah!" but before you could really launch head first into the colossal lecture lingering on the tip of your tongue the timer for mila's timeout went.

"up. on your feet. come with me right now!"

scrambling and falling over herself in her haste your wife scurried after you as you stomped out of the office and back down the hall, coming to a stop back in front of your very somber looking four year old.

"aw bubba why are you crying what hap-" "leah!"

at the hiss of her voice your wife froze, looking back and meeting your sharp warning glare she retreated from where she'd been surging forward to wrap mila in a hug and stood awkwardly behind you instead.

"now, why did you have to go to timeout mila?" you asked softly, crouching down in front of your daughter who sniffled. "cause i did a naughty thing." mila wiped her nose on the collar of her shirt leaving a bright orange foundation stain that had you wincing at the thought of the work it would take to be rid of it.

"what was that?" "drew on the walls with mamas makeup."

"sorry you what-" with another harsh glare from you leah fell silent again, rocking back and forth on her feet with a guilty expression in her features, the pieces of the puzzle now slowly slotting together in her head.

"mama i'm really really really sorry." "i know you are baby, come here." with that you opened your arms and engulfed your daughter in a hug, her legs wrapping around you as you stood and picked her up with you.

"now. you and mama are gonna go clean up that pretty little face of yours bubba, and then we're gonna go get pizza for dinner-" the downtrodden look was wiped right off her face at those words, your wives too though that wouldn't last long.

"-and mummy is going to stay here by herself, have plain toast for dinner and clean the bedroom wall so she doesn't have to sleep on the sofa tonight!"

[lc-holy]

Here's a summary of the latest information we have on Miraculous special episodes and season 6.

(Please be respectful in the comments and tags on this post or create your own).

Special episodes:

- I think you already know, but the special London episode will be broadcast on October 5 on Disney channel France at 9:00 a.m. (French time).

A trailer has been released on the official Miraculous Ladybug France Youtube channel. A second trailer was released at the TFOU press conference. (video available on TF1Pro).

-The Tokyo special is currently in production, and will feature 3d and 2d animation.

-Thomas replied to someone who asked about a spin-off of the Paris special with Shadybug and Clawnoir: “If all goes well, it should become a comic book series.”

Season 6:

-The season 6 trailer was also broadcast during TFOU's press conference, it's the same trailer shown in June at Annecy. And they've added a few new sequences at the end of the trailer.

(The trailer probably contains some unfinished animation.)

-The September issue of Licensing Magazine still announces Season 6 for the end of 2024, but with no further details.

For those wondering why there's an animation change in season 6, here's what Thomas answered on Twitter:

-"It was necessary as the assets we had didn’t work anymore with newer maya versions. We needed to switch to something that will last at least for the next ten years."

-"There's a big improvement in the design, which I've been waiting for, and a big improvement in the animation, which goes beyond what I'd hoped for. It's only in terms of rendering that we still have a few technical issues to sort out, but there too, it will be much more beautiful."

For those wondering why Adrien doesn't have any new clothes in season 6, Thomas replies: "Very good question, you'll understand."

One last thing:

Even if you don't like the new animation, don't harass the writers, don't harass the animators, don't harass the new animation studio, don't harass Zag etc...

Be respectful of all the people who work hard on the series. Be patient and wait to see the final result. And even if you don't like the end result, at least give yourself time to get used to it.

[nina-ya]

Synopsis: Stuck in a snowstorm, you and Law have to resort to sharing body heat to stay warm. Who knew an act of survival could turn so sexual? Pairing: Law x AFAB reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, Hand job, cunnilingus, law is a piece of shit and ruins your clothes • ficmas masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

The snowstorm raged outside, the howling winds battering against the walls of the abandoned cabin as though the elements themselves sought to break through and terrorize you. Through the warped slats of the wooden walls, the cold spilled in. Snow piled against the single-paned windows, rendering any view into the outside world useless. 

Inside the cabin wasn't much better– empty and run down, save for a broken chair, an upturned table, and a rotting woodpile too damp to be of any use. You and Law were in what seemed to be the common area, breaths fogging the air, and the absence of any heat source made every second a test of endurance. Law sat cross-legged on the rough wooden floor, leaning back against the warped planks of the wall, and you were across from him, crouched with an air of grim determination as you furiously rubbed two sticks together in a vain attempt to coax a spark into existence. 

“You know,” Law drawled, his voice tinged with amusement despite his ever-growing coldness, “if sheer stubbornness could start a fire, you’d have the place burning down by now.”

You shot him a glare, blowing a strand of hair from your face as you worked the sticks together with renewed vigor. “Well, unless you have a better idea, Mr. Genius, let me work my magic.”

Law didn’t respond immediately, his gaze darting around the cabin as though searching for a solution to their predicament in the shadows of the corners. Then, without a word, he gestured for you to sit beside him with a tap to the space on the ground next to him. 

You hesitated, glancing back at the desolate room once more, but the persistent chill and his expression boring into you left you with no other choice. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself and shuffled over, lowering yourself beside him and pressing your side against him. The warmth from him was a near-instant relief, though far from enough to chase away the cold.

“It’s freezing,” you murmured, tucking your hands under your arms for extra warmth. 

Law shrugged off his coat and draped it over both of your shoulders as he stated as practically as ever, “Body heat. It’s the most efficient way to conserve warmth.”

With that, he shifted closer, his side pressing right up against yours, his heat steadily seeping into your frozen skin. You couldn't stop the shivers that racked your body, the icy tendrils of winter coiling tighter around you. 

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt and pressing against the warm skin of his abdomen. He jumped under your touch, immediately jerking away from your touch. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, his voice more a growl than a question. 

Your lips curled into a playful grin, the chill momentarily forgotten in the face of his reaction. “I already told you, it's freezing,” you started with a mock serious tone, fingers pressing against his warm skin again. “And you’re so warm.”

Each time he tried to evade you, you followed, your hands persistent as you darted around his attempts to push you back. He was rapidly shifting backward from you when something caught on an uneven floorboard, sending his feet flying in the air and his back hitting the ground with a thud. Before he could recover, you were on him, straddling his hips with a triumphant laugh. 

With a soft, playful laugh you leaned down, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Got you.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, one of your hands snaked lower, sliding beneath the waistband of his pants, feeling the warmth of his pulse beneath your fingers. Law’s body tensed, his breath a sharp hiss as you closed your fingers around him slowly as if savoring the moment. His cock was already stiff and oh so impossibly warm against the cold air of the cabin. 

“See?” you said, voice low and teasing as you squeezed lightly. “So warn…”

Law’s breath hitched, his head tipping back against the wooden floorboards with a dull thud. He muttered a curse under his breath, his hands reflexively gripping your thighs in a futile attempt to ground himself. His body arched subtly into your touch, his jaw clenching as a soft groan spilled past his lips. 

“Fuck… So cold…” he muttered, voice strained. Your icy touch sent sharp, electric jolts through his nerves, intensifying the feelings your hand around his cock brung out. You stroked him slowly, drinking in the way his hips jerked involuntarily as you teased him. 

“I can find a way to keep you warm,” you murmured, your voice teasing and soft. You shifted, leaning down so your lips hovered over his, your breath ghosting against him. “Do you like it?” you whispered, your tone dripping with playful intent as you gave him another slow, deliberate squeeze. 

His response was immediate, his hands tightened on your thighs, nails digging lightly into your fleece-lined leggings. “You’re a menace,” he rasped, but the words lacked bite, his gaze locked onto yours with a mix of frustration and undeniable need. He couldn’t help but roll his hips into your hand to chase the friction, his inhale sharp and shaky. “You’re torturing me,” he breathes out, his tone less accusatory and more pleading, a desperate edge woven into each syllable. One of his hands left your thighs, opting to grab your wrist and guide you. “Don't stop…” 

And you didn’t. Your strokes quickened, the slick guide of your hand drawing him closer to the edge with every movement. His body tensed beneath you, his muscles taut and trembling, as his breathing slipped into broken moans. The hand on your wrist tightened, guiding your movements more frantically as his need overtook him. 

“I’m–” the words barely left his lips before his release hit, a shuddering cry breaking free as his body arched into you. His cock pulsed in your grasp as ropes of cum spilled over your hand and up, some splattering against your cheek, sticky and warm. You froze for a moment before laughing softly as you looked down at him. 

“Messy,” you murmured, your tone dripping with amusement as you brought your hand to your mouth. Your tongue flicked out to clean your fingers, your eyes never leaving his. The sight of your tongue wrapping around each of your digits sucking and savoring his essence drew a groan from Law as the hand on your thigh flexed against you. 

His hands planted firmly on your hips, sliding you up across his abdomen with ease. You yelped at the sudden motion, and before you knew it, he was guiding you until you hovered right over his face. 

“Law--” your thoughts were cut off as he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your leggings, gripping until–rrrrrip. You gasped at both the cold air kissing your slick cunt and the sheer audacity of him to rip your clothes without an ounce of remorse or hesitation. 

You opened your mouth to yell at him, but your words dissolved into a whimper as his cold nose brushed against your slick core, turning you to jelly. “Relax,” he huffed out. His icy lips ghosted over your folds and your hips attempted to jerk away from his touch, but his hands kept you firmly in place. 

His tongue suddenly darted out, a hot, deft stroke that had you wailing out. His hands tightened on your hips, keeping you anchored to his face as he devoured you like a man starved. You squirmed against him as he drove you to the brink of madness with every stroke of his tongue. He groaned into you, the vibration sending your mind into a tizzy. 

“L-Law,” you stuttered, your voice shaky as you reached for something to ground yourself, fingers lacing through his dark hair. He only responded with a growl, his tongue flicking over your clit before sucking it. You cried out, your hips bucking into his face.

He teased and tormented, alternating between soft, teasing flicks, and firm, deliberate strokes that sent bolts of electricity slamming right into your core. The wet sounds of his mouth working against you filled the space, each sound a sinful melody.

Your thighs trembled, and you began to rock against his face, your juices smearing across his lips and chin. He hummed in approval, the vibrations pulling a shuddering moan from your chest. His hands guided your movements, helping you chase your pleasure with a feral sort of need as if he couldn’t bear for you to pull away for even a second. 

The pleasure was consuming you, your mind hazy and unfocused as you chased that blinding peak. But then, through that haze, a faint sound reached your ears. Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to look over your shoulder. Your eyes were met with one of Law’s hands wrapped tight around his leaking cock, stroking himself with a brutal intensity. His slicked hand moved in time with his eager might, the sight devastatingly obscene. 

A breathless laugh escaped you, though it was half swallowed by a moan. “You’re so–” you began, voice trembling, “needy.” 

Before you could say more, his tongue dragged a precise stroke over your clit, the pressure timed with a slow stroke of his hand. Your words dissolved into a broken cry as your body arched sharply, the tension inside you coiling impossibly tight.

He didn’t let up for even a moment, his mouth relentless as he alternated between consuming you whole with broad strokes and zeroing in on that sweet, sensitive spot that left you gasping for air. 

Your body shuddered violently as the black snake of pleasure coiled around you, threatening to end you with its venomous bite. Your hips rocked with desperation, grinding against his mouth, every motion perfectly in sync with the steady pull of his hand on his cock. “Oh, fuck. I’m gonna--” 

And then the snake finally sunk its teeth into you, its venom shooting right through your veins as an overwhelming pleasure ripped right through you. Your back arched as the waves of bliss crested and crashed through you, your vision blurring  as you clung to the world around you, your body trembling and shaking uncontrollably.

At that exact moment, Law grunted, his release hitting with equal force, the pulse of his cock in his hand matching the spasms of your cunt. His honey spilled over his fingers and dripped onto his stomach as he groaned deeply into your sensitive folds.

And as you both trembled from the aftermath, Law licked you clean, savoring every drop of your essence, tasting you and making you jerk and whine out from the sensitivity of your recent orgasm.  

When you finally managed to slide off him, the motion was slow, your body fatigued. And as you pulled away, a thin string of your shared fluids stretched between your bodies, fragile but stubborn, until it snapped with a soft pop. 

You collapsed beside him, breathless, your body flushed and spent. It was only until now that you were able to take a good look at him, the way his lips and chin glistened with your juices, the way his chest heaved with each breath, the way his hand was still resting on his softening cock, coated in the remnants of his own pleasure. 

Neither of you could speak, and neither of you wanted to. There was no need for words when the atmosphere around you was still sizzling with the raw intimacy of the moment. However, that bliss ended quickly as you remembered his earlier stunt of ripping your leggings. And as you perched yourself up on your elbows, face snapping to his with an expression that radiated irritation, he just sighed, knowing what was to come. Instead of thinking of excuses or remedies, he spent those few seconds of tensioned silence thinking of the quickest route to your thighs in order to keep your mind once again occupied with the thoughts of his mouth and fingers instead. 

[virginreprise]

✧ ˚ 　 · 　 　 . B L U E M O O N ✩ M O T E L

jackson!joel miller x reader ✧˖ * °

✧. ┊ ddlg dynamics, smut, fluff, edging, mean and soft joel, so basically joel, squirting, daddy kink, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, established relationship, just more of my depravity pretty much

✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° words: 3.9k

─── ⋆⋅. AO3 .⋅⋆ ──

“C’mon, baby, don’t cry.” 

There’s a hand down your face, another dancing along the skin of your stomach and pressing against the flesh—calming the heaving breaths that come with the tears. 

Both legs are shaking with the exertion, your lips trembling as you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to tip yourself over the edge. To finally give yourself relief from the nauseatingly painful ache that leaks between your legs—seeping into the crevasses of your brain and rendering yourself a dumb, whimpering mess at the faux sympathy and shaking determination of the object of your desecration. 

“Joel,” you whisper, throat too sore from where his cock had been inside it previously to open your mouth more than an inch. “D-daddy.” 

“Shhhh, babydoll, s’okay.” 

Through your blurred eyes, you can see his smirk, the undeniable pride that lingers in the pits of every bruise on his body; every scar that disappears when he has you so desperate. 

“It’s not,” you manage to whine. “Daddy, please, it hurts.” 

All he does is laugh, kissing uncharacteristically softly along your body—a distinct difference from the harsh treatment of your poor, abused cunt he had been toying with for the past hour. Sweat was glistening along your skin, naked as the day you were born save for the frilly little socks on your feet he had insisted you keep on in case your toes were to become cold. Couldn’t have that. 

No, Joel’s little angel baby could not have cold feet. That level of discomfort was far too much for the man to allow. It was perfectly fine to have your clit rubbed raw and swollen, however. That was a pain you needed for your own peace of mind. 

“I know it does,” he muttered with little sympathy, thumb running over your nipple—a jolt at the sensation and Joel’s smirk widening at the discovery. “Oh, honey, you’re so sensitive, ain’t ya?” 

You peel your eyes open to scowl at him, the condition he’s worked you up to making you so irritable you could hardly care if he was disappointed in your attitude. 

“Yes!” you whine, hand clawing at his shirt—the object of your desires hovering above you, still fully clothed whilst you lay naked and sweating. “Daddy, please, I haven’t been bad!” 

It was the truth. Joel knew it too. You’d been his perfect girl all these weeks he’d been busy helping control the dangerous amount of infected that had been hoarding the mountains surrounding Jackson. Long days and late nights, a tired and consequently irritable Joel coming home to a sweet and obedient you that didn’t cry, barely even flinched when he snapped at you that time you’d been rambling about your day and he wasn’t in the mood to find it endearing. You’d just quietly apologised and then crawled onto the floor to take your place at his feet—arm wrapping around his leg and face nuzzling into his thigh. 

He’d apologised the next morning and kissed you all over, more forgiving than he was now: hovered over you and pulling away every time you felt the coil tighten and threaten to snap. 

“I know you have,” he said matter-of-factly. “And daddy’s very proud of you but this isn’t a punishment, baby. I’m rewardin’ you.”

“No you’re not-” 

“Hey, now,” he scolded, gripping the hands that fisted at his shirt, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and pushing them against your chest; holding you hostage as he explained himself. “Don’t interrupt me or I ain’t ever lettin’ you finish.” 

You pouted, still defiant as ever but decided forgivingly to hear him out, mumbling a half-hearted apology and letting him speak. 

“I ain’t tryna make you feel bad, baby, daddy would never wanna do that to you. ‘Specially with how good you’ve been and I know it don’t feel too good right now but the payoff is gonna be somethin’ special, I promise you.” The grip of your wrists began to loosen at your quizzical brow, the contempt replaced with confusion. 

“But how-”

“Shh, honey.” He shook his head softly, bringing your hands to his lips and placing kisses along the knuckles. “You have to trust me. You do trust me, don’t ya?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, never one to deny the notion that you trusted him implicitly—he had your whole life and, despite his questioning, he would never doubt your devotion. 

“Then just let daddy take care of you, okay?” he mumbled against your collarbone, fingers sliding along your skin to nestle between your thighs again, stroking and pinching at your poor cunt once more—clit twitching as he played you with the expert precision that years of experience had gifted to him. Those goddamn hands that had your cheeks heating every time they touched softly along your skin; the most innocent of caresses sending you blazing hot. Skin marred. 

Heaving breaths came from your chest when he slipped his fingers inside your wet hole, slick running down your legs and creating a damp spot on the sheets. A stain that you would apologise for and he would clean, promising you that he didn’t care. That this house was as much yours as it was his now. 

It had been a quick transition: the way you began to permeate his space. Angel hairbrush on his dresser, panties hanging from the corner of the headboard and the smell of roses lingering in the bathroom steam. He kept you locked in the house that echoed deafeningly before you came traipsing through the front door—the adoration he had for you growing until there was nothing left except the sweltering, burning love that sparked the wood walls and encouraged the smoke that threatened to flame. 

You loved him; that much you knew. You loved the way that he took care of you, understood the grievances and the strife, understood the need to let go of yourself, to revert to that childlike personality you had lost years before you should’ve. The stunted childhood—lost to the corners of your nostalgic memory of what it was to be carefree. He let you not care. There was no responsibility, there in his arms. Your head was not full with the thoughts that came so dark in those hours of solitude that kept the blood pumping and your heart screaming. 

All you had to do was be loved by him; he made it so easy with the way he spoke to you. The way he loved you. 

“That’s my good girl.” The praise was dragged from him by a choked moan, his fingers curling, thumb playing with your clit and lips along your neck—bruising and marking. Time, as a moving thing, slowly began to soften his paranoia, and those blooming purple splotches along your neck and breasts, nipped along your thighs, were something to be proud of. Something that he looked at from the corner of his eye, smiling softly into his drink when Annie from the bakery worried over you—thinking naively that the marks were injuries from patrols you had been banned from long ago. Smouldering from afar as you tried to explain and then cowering when he would see Tommy’s disproving glare and Maria’s distaste grow stronger than usual. 

Marks that he created again in the sweat of his bed, with you whining and begging him for release. 

“Please, Daddy,” you sniffled, stomach tightening again—so easy to build you up after he’d deprived you so many times already. “Can’t take much more…” 

“Oh, my little girl.” There was a certain lilt to his tone as he cooed, an intentional quickening of his fingers that told you, even in your blissed-out state, that this was not the time. That he would pull away as soon as he felt you clamping around him and panting in the wake of your desperation. 

“Daddy,” you cried again, tears streaming into your temples, trailing along your scalp and making you shiver with the contrasting cooling of your blazing hot skin. “P-please don't.” 

“Don’t what, baby?” You groaned at his question, sobs falling at his laugh. “C’mon, angel, tell Daddy what you want. Don’t leave me wonderin’.” 

Your words were coming out in unintelligible babbles as the fire raged deep in your belly, spreading to your hips and forcing them to buck as they burnt—blisters appearing along your skin as you tried to ask him if you could come, tried to tell him how much you needed it, contemplating uttering that fateful word from your lips that guaranteed your safety. Cry in his arms for a bit and then smile as he softened and gave you exactly what you wanted.  

“C-come, Daddy,” you managed to whimper, ready to scream when he replied. 

“Say again, honey. Didn’t quite catch that.” 

You gripped at the sheets, sweating all over, feet too hot with the socks adorning them and cried into the pillows as he pushed you right to the edge of the cliff, holding you gracefully over the lip, keeping you teetering—stomach spinning. You begged him to let you go, to kick your legs out from under you and let you feel the sweet release. 

“Need to come, p-p-please.” For a moment, you thought you had him, clit tingling, palms sweating, chest heaving, ready to finally jump, and then as quickly as the hope had come, it was squandered as he pulled his hand away from your legs, and began shushing your cries—sobs fully encapsulating you as he took you in his arms and kissed over your face. 

“Breathe, angel, it’s okay,” he murmured into your hair, careful not to press his full weight into you as he pulled your chest to his and kissed the tip of your nose, each cheek, your forehead and then your lips—a choreographed worship that had become the biggest comfort to you in the times where he denied you everything you wanted. 

“Daddy…” you said through the sobs. “Why?”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, dodging your question with no grace and all brute force. “It’ll be worth it, babygirl, I promise. Daddy promises, yeah?” 

You shook your head defiantly, expressing as best as you could your irritation with him—a mood that he would let slide for now because he knew fully that you didn’t deserve what he was inflicting on you. You had been so good, the bestest of girls for him whilst he battled the long days and harsh conditions—staying as sweet as possible and knowing him well enough that being a brat purely because he wasn’t giving you enough attention, was not one of the ways to make him feel better. 

You had been good—his perfect girl. You deserved to come as many times as you comfortably could, and you deserved his love and affection—the softest of touches and the sweetest of nothings. 

But, he needed an outlet. He needed somewhere to put all the irritation and the gruelling mental battles—all the way inside you. He needed to punish you for his own peace of mind but still give you the sweet reward he was hoping to pull from you. 

“Listen to me,” he said sternly, looking you straight in your bleary eyes as you clung to the broad expanse of his back, adding to the maps of scars along the muscle with the unconscious press of your nails into his skin. “Daddy isn’t being mean, baby. I promise. I need you to trust me on this one and if you don’t, you tell me, okay? You know I ain’t gonna be mad.” 

And just like that Joel was there. Joel Miller, who treated everyone he cared about like they were fine china, was shining into the hedonism that darkened the bedroom. It softened your resolve, blessed by the beauty of every complexity that made up the man above you. So you nodded, the harshness of his eyes disappearing, the hint of a smile crossing his wrinkled brow and a promise sealed as he kissed you. 

“Okay,” you murmured, pussy still on fire, eyes still flaming with adoration and depraved desire. “I trust you.” 

The smile you got was an expression reserved only for these moments, times when he wasn’t being the stubborn, stoic man that you used to be so terrified of. The softness that he kept just for you—a woman that had captured him completely and made him feel revitalised by the innocence of your youth and the genuineness of your affections. 

A woman that he would watch squirm under the heat of his beckoning fingers as they slipped inside you once more, a determination in his eyes that smouldered and flickered until you were shuddering against the feeling—hips bucking into his hand, eyes fluttering closed as the tears pressed into your hairline, lingering in the corners of your eyes and spilling when your legs began to shake. 

“Daddy,” you whined, unable to think of anything but that goddamn word—the name that had completely changed your life on the barren plains of a cracked America, the solace of his arms and the comfort of the wondrous space he had provided for you. The safety. 

“Lean into it, babydoll,” he murmured over the squelch coming from in between your legs. “Relax for me…breathe.” 

His words soothed the burns, salve of his love stinging along the blisters and you let out a sharp exhale, chest slowing to a steady in and out. You braced yourself with a hand on his clothed back, whining at the feeling of fabric against his shoulders and trailing your fingers towards the hem of his shirt and tugging. 

The emptiness you felt when he pulled his fingers from you to rip his shirt from his body was almost unbearable, mumbling a high-pitched beg as your ears rang and your head went fuzzy. If you were just a little more conscious, you would’ve smiled at the unbelievable way he seemed to read you, his fingers slipping and thrusting as soon as the cotton hit the floor and his skin was against yours. 

“Better?” he muttered against your skin, a short laugh falling from his lips when you nodded eagerly and pulled him closer to you—desperate to feel him against you. You always were. You knew you were in trouble when he fucked you with his clothes on, the man knowing how much you adored feeling the heat of him against you, sweat against sweat, bodies completely entangled. You craved it. You breathed it. You devoted your life to the feeling of his body pressed against you and his forehead against yours as he breathed in every expelled depravity. 

It was building there again, clamping around his fingers, slick dripping and eyes squeezing shut as he pressed kisses all over your face—wherever his lips could reach. Devotion squeezed inside the domination, an overpowering feeling overcoming you as he began intentionally stroking at that damned spot inside you that he found with the same precision he killed—bloodied hands blooming inside you, scraping against the sponge and pressing his free palm against your stomach. 

The added pressure, the thumb against your clit had your brain ascending to euphoria, madness clawing at you as you tugged him closer; whimpering and shaking. 

“There we go,” he said proudly. “We found it, huh? I can feel you squeezing me. Gonna cut off my damn circulation.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cried pathetically, only recognising the scolding tone of his voice and not the jest that it was meant to be taken as, your hazy mind distracting you from yourself—pulling your body from its resting place and draping you amongst the clouds in heaven. A paradisiacal lunacy overcoming the sensibilities and leaving you in his hold. Trusting completely. 

“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl. Just focus on that feeling for me,” he requested, fingers still stroking, feeling still growing and transitioning. Something new. “It feel different?” he asked as if he were reading your thoughts. Half the time you believed that he really could see inside your mind and when you muttered a broken ‘yes,’ he nodded along with you, muttering praises that were laced with a fascination with your body’s workings—the mechanisms that brought you to such a brink. 

“Feels like-,” you heaved, moans deepening, fingers digging into his shoulders, marring the skin with sensual flagellation and scarring him with your love and desperation. 

“Like you’re gonna pee?” He finished for you and you nodded in confirmation, his fingers working double time now, pressing against your stomach as this foreign feeling brewed inside you—indescribably terrifying and equally enthralling. 

“D-don’t…can’t,” you babbled and a reassuring kiss was placed to the tip of your nose. 

“It’s okay, baby, just lean into it. Let yourself feel it, you ain’t gonna piss on me, I promise.” 

His strokes were so intentional, each swipe built to make you feel something so beautifully incandescent and sinful. His hand was flat against your stomach, his fingers guiding your hips upwards as he reached deep inside you, pulling cries from your mouth you had never heard before, thankful for the thickness of the walls and the security of his comforting words as he took everything from you. Swallowed every moan, every tear, every devotional that echoed along the four walls, seeped into the crevasses of the mattress and stained the sheets with a connection that could not be scrubbed from the fabric. 

“Feels- Daddy, it feels-”

“I know, honey, I know.” 

You begin to shake, thighs twitching and head spinning. Fingers scissoring inside you, a shit-eating grin on his face that you could only just make out through your tear-streaked vision and a gust of wind passing through your hair, sending it flying into the night as you reach the edge of the sea cliff and gazed at the crashing waves. 

It happened quicker than expected, more sudden than even Joel had anticipated when you begin to seize and go hurtling over the edge, gushing around his fingers, feeling the wetness spray all over him—all over the sheets that become soaked with the essence of you. 

“Fuck,” Joel whispered, enamoured with the way you arch and sing for him, trying to keep his own arousal at bay as you cry in his arms. “There we go,” he murmurs, coming back to himself as he feels you clinging to him; needing him close to you. “That's my precious girl…exactly what daddy wanted.” 

You’re jerking and writhing when he finally pulls away, dragging the slickness up through your folds, your legs closing around his hand when he brushes against your clit. 

“N-n-no, daddy,” you beg. “No more.” 

He laughs at the juxtaposition, the exhaustion that had replaced your desperation to come, the sensations that had overcome you: leaving you braindead. A state that he knew should not be taken lightly. 

“Oh, my baby,” he muttered. “You were perfect.” 

Your eyes were slow to open, his praise basking you in a light glow, illuminating the depths of your soul and replacing the broken pieces that he had just left strewn across the bed. 

“What…” you breathed out, legs squeezing together and a light moan gracing the room at the oversensitivity. “What did I just do?” 

“You just squirted, honey. Been wantin’ to try that with ya for a while now.” He said it so casually, like he hadn’t just given you an orgasm that rivalled every other release you’d had in your life—coerced by an hour of edging and begging; your body exploding into a diabolical rapture that replayed in your mind as he stroked your hair from your face. “Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.” 

You just whined in response, tugging him as close as possible, letting him rest on his side of the bed and pull you on top of him. You clung to him like he was your life source, breaths still steadying, cunt still tingling and three mumbled words on your lips that had been uttered so many times now you could hardly even remember your life before you adored him so ardently. 

“Love you, Daddy.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, happy with his hands all over you and his chest against yours. “Missed you so much.” 

He knew what you were referring to, he knew that you had needed his undivided attention—edged or not—for some time now. He hadn’t been as good to you as he’d wanted to be, quick fucks slowly replacing the languid strokes by the fireplace and the whispered words of devotion against the wall; it had been tough on the both of you. All those hours spent in the snow;  ugly, malnourished, infected lunging for him when he took a wrong step, fighting with all his might to survive. For you and the prospects that clouded your union. 

“I know, babygirl, I missed you too,” he confessed, pressing his cheek into the side of your head, lips pressing feather-light into your hair and his arms tight around your waist. He would not let you go. Could not bear it if you were to slip from his hold. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere now. You know I’ve got the next few weeks off. Gonna spend all of it with my girl. Gonna keep you fucked and fed, how bout that.” 

You giggled and shook your head, squeezing him tight and pulling your face from your hiding place to look him in the eyes. 

“Sounds perfect, Daddy.” 

He looked up at you, eyes scanning your face with a smile that lightened his old features, your hands cupping his cheeks and smoothing along the wrinkles around his eyes. And he let you touch him, let you admire his pretty eyes and strong jaw. All man and not mild. Strong and sturdy. Looking to protect you from the horrors that he daredn’t speak of, from the judgements of others until he’d convinced you that keeping you locked away was normal. That your contributions to the community was keeping him happy. 

A beat, silence permeating the tranquility and then you: managing to fluster the Adonis that lay underneath you. 

“You’re so handsome, Daddy,” you muttered. “The most handsome daddy ever.” 

Joel stared with poorly contained adoration, a smile playing at his lips, a glint in his eyes as he mirrored your movements and took your face in his hands. Thumbs stroked your cheekbones, playing at the softness of your lips and then trailing down the bridge of your nose. 

“And you’re the prettiest little babydoll I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “My bestest girl.” 

Your cheeks grew hot, his praise and compliments that came far too often, always leaving you a grinning, sweating mess and you hid yourself in his chest, feeling the vibrations of his laugh as you rested your ear against his heartbeat and brought your thumb to your lips. 

You’d stay there forever if you could, naked, not afraid of the consequences of your vulnerability. Just completely safe in his arms, loved by a man who was so full of care he was bursting at the seams with a desire to protect someone. To protect you. And with a mumbled “I love you,” on his lips, a squeeze of your waist as he rolled onto his side, taking you with him, you understand what it felt like to be loved completely. To have every semblance of your being desired and wanted. 

If he ever left, you would have no idea how to reconcile the grief—how to cope with the loss of someone who gave you everything. 

So, you lay there and didn’t think about the next time he’d be on patrol. You lay there, in his arms, not thinking of the possibilities. He promised he would always come back to you. 

He would always come back.

© virginreprise

i have no idea what this is. i'm so tired i can't even be bothered to write this note. i wrote this in the past few hours and its now five in the fucking morning and i can barely see. please appreciate my effort.