#the way that makes the words flow most

[not-poignant]

Question! You juggle so many projects at once, and I think that's awesome. Do you have any advice for how you stay motivated (and/or organized) to work on so many different things? If I'm inspired by something, I want to focus on That Thing and Only That Thing — I have a really hard time pulling my brain away to work on other projects.

I'm wondering if a schedule would help? How do you even set your schedule?

This is a lot of questions packed into one ask, I realize — I guess I'm just in awe of your NaNoWriMo progress (you are insane (affectionate)) and want to pick your brain about your process a little.

Hope you have a lovely day!

Honestly anon, we all have our ways of writing, and it's best if you stick to what actually works for you instead of forcing yourself to do something different.

I'd recommend looking into some of the coaching / videos / podcasts by Becca Syme. A lot of it is simply based around accepting who you are, instead of forcing yourself to write like other people. Part of that is finding your strengths, but some of it is simply...being like 'okay, I'm like this as a writer.'

I don't write lots of projects because I taught myself to, but because I love doing it. I write more when I work on more projects. If I forced myself to only focus on one thing I'd feel stifled and held back, I'd write slower, and I actually think my writing would be muddier and less good.

Other people do best and write fastest when they're focusing on only one project at a time.

And which kind of person you are anon is something you'll figure out over time. Though it sounds like you might already know.

If you wanted to try working on multiple projects, I'd look at adding just one more into the rotation and seeing how it feels. Does it make you write more? Does it make you want to write more? Is it pulling focus? Is it making you lose inspiration on the other story? It's not so much a scheduling issue as it is simply...which one gets the words out?

The goal isn't to become like me as a writer, just like my goal isn't to become like other writers. The goal is to get your words out in the way that works best for you. If that's slowly, that's amazing. If that's fast, that's great, and while there are techniques you can try, it should always be with a view to respecting your organic process.

Many writers quit, or burnout, as soon as they stop respecting that process, or when they start feeling ashamed of their natural process and put pressure on themselves to do it another way.

Also I'll be honest, I'm working on too many projects right now and even though I'm loving it, I know it's too many. Like, I've deprioritised Underline the Red for my own sanity, and I am actually really looking forward to clearing a couple of stories from the schedule so I can focus on other things. About 3-4 stories is my sweet spot.

I don't exactly 'stay organised' anon. I actively want to work on all of these stories. And tonally they're all different, so if I feel like something more wholesome, or something darker, or something more pornographic, I have options. I do have a monthly kind of idea of what I should be working on (i.e. based on the upcoming schedule), but I can only really do that thanks to ADHD meds and I'm cautious of recommending techniques that I personally can only access and make use of because medication has fixed some of my executive dysfunction issues. If you're playing with any kind of unmedicated ADHD, there are tools that won't be as useful without tangible medical or therapeutic support. D:

I set my writing schedule via a mix of the writing that makes me money, alongside extra writing that I enjoy that doesn't make me money. Ideally I enjoy all of it and it's all fun. But the stuff that makes me money has to come first, because of like...life reasons. Idk where you're at professionally, or even if you want to do this professionally, and that would profoundly influence how I'd even suggest scheduling. If you don't have to schedule your writing, don't do it! If you don't have to make decisions like this, then don't make them!

Also, if I hated any of these stories, I'd put the story on hiatus. I don't believe in writing stuff I hate or resent writing. I know other people can make themselves do this and I'm glad that works for them, but I can't do it and I just...yeah. I have to love the story and enjoy it and not resent it to see it through, it's probably why there's so much drama happening all the time, and angst, I'm keeping my dumb hurt/comfort brain engaged lmao.

Never underestimate the power of also just 'I've been doing this for 10 years and I'm very practiced at stuff that other people will only learn with years of practice.' Some of this stuff doesn't have shortcuts, it just had a lot of time and 5 million words sunk into it. When I first started writing on AO3 I wrote one story at a time (though I did quickly become bored of that and moved to two). I wasn't making money. I didn't have a schedule for 9 years. I didn't want one.

The things I've learned... my wordcounts are reliable because I've just had a lot of practice writing. Unfortunately there's no trick to that, beyond sitting down and writing. The more you do, the more you learn about your own process and respect it, the more you write the stories you love, the better you'll get. And I've had times where I've burnt out, times where I've needed long breaks, times where I pushed too hard or forced myself to be like other writers and ended up wondering if I'd quit.

I want to give you easy answers, but the easiest one I have is - which way of writing brings you the most joy? Which way makes the words flow? Is it just one story at a time? That's great - that's your way. That might change in time, but don't force it to. You can experiment like a scientist and try different things, but be compassionate and accepting of whatever your innate way of doing things is.

I struggled so much with the fact that serials is just my way in a world of novelists. I cannot tell you how much misery it has brought me, trying to force myself to be a dedicated novelist when I always just wanted to write sequential stories live. And I really thought I was doing things wrong and you know, other authors thought I was doing things wrong.

It turned out I wasn't, but self-acceptance of my own methods and style went a long way in that process.

You might not like this response anon, and I apologise for not actually just lining up a schedule for you to try (I don't listen to my own schedules), but...it's okay to be someone who works on one story at a time. Or two stories only. I actually think it's awesome, and my writer-friend in my writer's group whose work I've been helping beta for years is a 'single project at a time' writer and a *rewriter* (no one wishes they could change their process as much as rewriters imho) and her writing is amazing. Like, incredibly good. (That's Stephanie Gunn by the way, for anyone who wants to read some cool science fiction / gothic fantasy).

So that's her process, and it's an amazing one, because it creates the writing that it does. Whatever your natural process is, anon, it's okay to write that way, trust me.

[qbebou]

ok not to be like he’s just like me fr…. but chayanne is just like me fr…..

i’m also the oldest child with one younger sibling who needed a lot more care when we were kids and therefore was deprived of certain needs in favor of my brother. i also had a parent that was missing a lot and depended almost solely on my dad. obviously tallulah needs more help than chay, with her asthma and lesser fighting skills, not to mention she had only been playing minecraft for like a month? or two before wilbur found her. and chay knows that! he knows that she needs more help than he does he knows he’ll do anything for her he knows he has to be the strongest to protect her. my brother and i are only a year apart but i was forced to grow up very very quickly bc i was on my own a lot as a kid while my brother was sick. phil doesn’t worry abt chay when he runs off bc he doesn’t need to, chay can take care of himself. hell, he took care of all the eggs when they first left. but at the same time, it’s comforting to know ur parent is looking out for u even when u don’t need it. phil’s not a smothering parent, he’s attentive, but not smothering. but let’s be real he can also be emotionally constipated LMAO but that leads to situations like the argument and frustration between chay and tallulah when dapper was kidnapped. in his defense, he’s never been a parent before and had 2 children thrust upon him to raise on his own. he didn’t have a lot of time to adjust to parenthood like ppl in real life do, he suddenly had 2 children who had their own thoughts and opinions and emotional needs, he didn’t get the time it takes to LEARN abt how to provide that specific care and while some ppl have that innate knowledge there is a lot of learning and navigating when it comes to emotional vulnerability and regulation esp when it comes to children who are figuring it out as well. i feel for chay when he thinks he needs to be the strongest. i feel for chay when he had to make the decision to gather the eggs and leave. i feel for chay when he had to take blame for bad things happening. and i feel for chay when he realized tallulah doesn’t need him as much anymore. my brother and i are both adults now and we had a …… tumultuous relationship as teenagers for reasons that were both our own and caused by problems outside our control. but i still remember exactly how devastating it was the moment i realized that he was fine on his own. that he didn’t need me anymore. and it caused a rift between us; on my end bc i was frustrated and felt tossed aside and on his end bc he NEEDED to be independent to keep growing. i see so much of myself in chay and i desperately wish he and tallulah had a better mediator for their argument, or at least someone who could truly understand why they were so upset. i don’t think phil clocked that tallulah was so upset and adamant abt looking for dapper bc it was just her dapper and ramon surviving on their own. just bc phil didn’t witness it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen and it doesn’t mean that they don’t have a much tighter relationship than they had before purgatory. and when chayanne said everyone was blaming him for the decisions he made phil was quick to tell him that no one was blaming him but also phil doesn’t know that! he doesn’t know if any blame was put on chayanne when it was just the eggs together. chayanne made the decision for the eggs to run and they trusted him bc he’s the oldest and he’s strong and he can be a leader but by running he also put the eggs thru a lot of pain and fear that they may not have gone thru if they stayed with their parents. and even if the eggs didn’t explicitly say that they blamed chayanne im sure he blamed himself for every little thing that went wrong. we’ve already seen him open up a tiny bit abt how he was questioning his decision to leave. but phil told him that chay made the best decision he could have given the information he had at the time which is true! but when ur the oldest and everyone is looking to u, all of the responsibility lies on ur shoulders. chayanne has been carrying SO much weight on his shoulders for so long it breaks my heart.

[disdaidal]

Sometimes I really kind of envy you native English speakers who make writing and posting fics seem so fucking easy. With near perfect grammar and hardly any typos. Or those of you who are capable of writing & updating your fics whenever the muse hits you just right... and not like, once in six months. Actually, try two years lol.

Whereas me, a non-native speaker, who occasionally struggles even with basic English grammar:

I'm fine. Totally.

[doodlebloo]

Hello dashboard I am looking for a beta reader (preferably a mutual!!!) Fair warning I'd need you to beta around 23k words which I know is long :( But if you're interested I would be more than willing to beta read something of yours in return!

[noxtivagus]

IDENTITY CRISIS WOOOO

[vynegar]

help i have such Opinions on translation now

[moved-to-void-kissed]

Ah yes, the classic ask game! /pos

💬 & "apprehensive" for Aqua, please! - @edencantstopfallininlove

Hehe, thank you for this! I definitely have something in mind for this emotion, so thank you kindly for it!~

(source: this post by queenieboo22)

send me 💬 and a character (and optional bonus emotion) and I’ll give you a line my self-insert would say if in a canon interaction with them - "I.. I suppose what I worried about for so long was whether you would truly want to be with me. Whether you would truly want me to be with you, as well. With what you have told me of how your Master taught you and Terra, I can't help but shake the impression that.. you would have merely struck me down as if I were any other creature of darkness, had we first crossed paths in circumstances where you were stronger. I, for my part, am still so enraged at the man who did all this to you and to the people you cared about. And so I will do everything I can in order to destroy him, and to do so at your side. But.. that’s only if you want me there with you. And.. I can’t say I wouldn’t understand if you were to say that you didn’t. The idea of it still worries me, but I know that it could be a possibility..”

I hope that that was alright! Thank you very much again for sending this in ^-^

[maccreadysbaby]

Some of my favorite words and phrases to describe a character in pain

coiling (up in a ball, in on themselves, against something, etc)

panting (there’s a slew of adjectives you can put after this, my favorites are shakily, weakly, etc)

keeling over (synonyms are words like collapsing, which is equally as good but overused in media)

trembling/shivering (additional adjectives could be violently, uncontrollably, etc)

sobbing (weeping is a synonym but i’ve never liked that word. also love using sob by itself, as a noun, like “he let out a quiet sob”)

whimpering (love hitting the wips with this word when a character is weak, especially when the pain is subsiding. also love using it for nightmares/attacks and things like that)

clinging (to someone or something, maybe even to themselves or their own clothes)

writhing/thrashing (maybe someone’s holding them down, or maybe they’re in bed alone)

crying (not actual tears. cry as in a shrill, sudden shout)

dazed (usually after the pain has subsided, or when adrenaline is still flowing)

wincing (probably overused but i love this word. synonym could be grimacing)

doubling-over (kinda close to keeling over but they don’t actually hit the ground, just kinda fold in on themselves)

heaving (i like to use it for describing the way someone’s breathing, ex. “heaving breaths” but can also be used for the nasty stuff like dry heaving or vomiting)

gasping/sucking/drawing in a breath (or any other words and phrases that mean a sharp intake of breath, that shite is gold)

murmuring/muttering/whispering (or other quiet forms of speaking after enduring intense pain)

hiccuping/spluttering/sniffling (words that generally imply crying without saying crying. the word crying is used so much it kinda loses its appeal, that’s why i like to mix other words like these in)

stuttering (or other general terms that show an impaired ability to speak — when someone’s in intense pain, it gets hard to talk)

staggering/stumbling (there is a difference between pain that makes you not want to stand, and pain that makes it impossible to stand. explore that!)

recoiling/shrinking away (from either the threat or someone trying to help)

pleading/begging (again, to the threat, someone trying to help, or just begging the pain to stop)

Feel free to add your favorites or most used in the comments/reblogs!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i crumble completely when you cry ; suguru geto

synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

word count; 6.2k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33

a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me

you’re cold.

little shivers run through your body, down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. the heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt. a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and you manage a weak jolt.

dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path, little petals glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.

it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact; 

you don’t have an umbrella.

at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes feel uncomfortable, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead of you.

you let out a shuddering breath. 

gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite the dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.

you just couldn’t stay there.

some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.

so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green. 

(he put it there just for you.)

maybe you weren’t thinking at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between — it only adds to the sting of his cold voice still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.

you were just worried. is that so awful? 

(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)

a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated and undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary. 

it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, was enough to make your eyes a little glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone makes you feel like you’ve done nothing right in your life.

so you left. because that was all you could do. 

sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing. 

(all the more pathetic.)

so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —

but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does. 

another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless. 

you want to go home.

it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.

you’re just too tired to argue anymore.

he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.

but he just brushed you off.

and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.

suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.

but then he grew frustrated.

”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.” ”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].” ”but — you just look so tired —” ”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”

(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)

and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden. 

pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.

pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.

god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while. 

your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel — 

while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples. 

and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.

for a second, you hesitate.

maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —

but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.

and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.

you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away. 

almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.

and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.

(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)

not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.

you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.

and then he’s walking away again. 

crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.

it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen… 

another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.

but he didn’t even give you that.

that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle. 

for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything. 

you don’t have to think about him at all. 

(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)

— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.

a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.

once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —

worry.

(ah.)

before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.

”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”

suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.

and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.

it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.

you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”

the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.

(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)

as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper. 

he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…

he could only feel guilty.

and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back. 

and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.

(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)

suguru waited. that was all he could do. 

he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.

so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed. 

and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.

like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.

it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —

and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother. 

suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.

(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)

so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…

he failed at maintaining his composure.

he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.

”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”

”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”

suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —

but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad. 

”… okay. got it.”

perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.

”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.

but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.

”tea would be great, thank you.”

you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go. 

he swallows thickly.

(that’s that, then.)

tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.

suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.

caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.

only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.

you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric. 

seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.

”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”

”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.

the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need. 

with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.

(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.

it breaks his heart, a little bit.)

a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.

suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.

finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.

”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”

your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.

here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.

with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort. 

(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)

”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”

the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.

”no. i want to talk about it properly.”

at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.

communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.

and you do, too.

so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.

(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)

suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.

”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.

you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.

”and i realized that you were right.”

…

you blink. once, then twice.

hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.

he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited. 

so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.

”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”

suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.

”i’m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology. 

and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.

suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective. 

and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.

suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you. 

and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?

”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.

and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”

and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.

”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”

you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.

to let you take care of him.

suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say. 

so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.

”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”

and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.

but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.

”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”

(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —

how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)

you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart. 

”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks. 

”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”

you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.

”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,” he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”

you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.

”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.

a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms. 

”then i will.”

for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink. 

oh. 

you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.

it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.

and you want that more than anything. 

so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.

it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.

and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.

how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…

suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.

”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

that certainly gets your attention.

”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”

suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.

”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”

hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.

and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.

before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.

”you sleeping, baby?”

you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.

”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”

your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.

but for now, you need to get some rest.

allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.

a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.

you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.

[the-californicationist]

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk. 

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity. 

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words. 

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death. 

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile, 

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it. 

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box. 

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you. 

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled. 

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff. 

“Fuck me!” He shouted. 

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped, 

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder. 

“You alright?” You asked him. 

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale. 

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry. 

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together. 

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs. 

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered. 

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand. 

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours. 

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations. 

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply. 

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it. 

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment, 

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you. 

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

[chososdiscordkitten]

pairing: Gojo x afab!reader content: no use of y/n or pronouns, NO PLOT JUST PORN, BREEDING KINK, mentions of PREGNANCY and BABY TRAPPING, unestablished relationship, gojo is such a tease, dirty talk, doggy, teasing, fingering, oral (f receiving) , he eats it from the back, eye contact, cervix kissing (?), multiple orgasms, gaslighting (?), Gojo doesn't know when to shut the fuck up, no after care sowy word count: 3.3k

(a.n) wrote this cause i couldnt stop thinking abt the 'plap plap plap get pregnant get pregnant' meme lol also have y'all noticed I have a thing for cream pies lol? wrote this listening to 'Martillazo- Dani Flow'

MDNI

What you had with Satoru wasn't a ‘relationship’ in his words. It wasn't dating, or a situationship. He just liked you, he liked being around you.

And most of all, he liked fucking you. But recently he had been toying around with the idea of one day telling him this arrangement wasn’t enough anymore.

And knowing Satoru, he wouldn't ask you for anything more serious. Not because he didn't want it too, but he didn't want to seem weak in front of you. Especially in front of you.

And I mean how humiliating would that be? The strongest asking you for a relationship? The mere thought made him cringe.

But he didn't like thinking that way, he didn't like thinking of you finding someone else that can give you a real relationship.

So Satoru tried to think of ways to make you his, and only his. Ways that didn't involve him confessing his feelings. Marking you up with hickeys on your breasts, bite marks on your shoulders.

Eventually finishing inside of you every single time. The sight of your cunt leaking his cum made something deep inside of him flip.

Now the sole purpose of having sex; for him, was to fuck his own seed into you. Over and over again. Secretly hoping that one day you'd present him with a positive stick.

Sad look on your face as though you were expecting him to act negatively. Asking him what you were supposed to do now. Only for him to hug you close and tell you he'd take care of you. Holding your face to his chest as you let out silent tears.

A smile creeping onto his face knowing that if that day ever came, that's how he would make you his forever.

Not once did he ever express these thoughts to you, but the first time he fucked you raw, you asked him if he had anything. Satoru gave you an over excited grin with a quiet mumble, “Nope.” before sliding inside of you.

Eventually you started noticing his incessant need to always finish inside of you. Even if you were sucking him off, he'd tell you to stop right before he'd finish. Not wanting to waste a single drop. But you never stopped to ask why, letting him fill you up anytime he wanted.

You should've known something was wrong when he backed you against a corner the second he saw you, a sinister smile on his lips as he traced his hand down your side.

That very morning Satoru came to the conclusion that he had to fill you up anytime he had the chance to. Hoping that maybe this time it'll happen.

“I missed you~” he hummed, Taking his hand and guiding your thighs to open the slightest bit. Pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips, confusion adorning your face as you kissed him back.

“I just saw you yesterday.” You smiled, pulling away from him. Taking your bottom lip into your teeth as you felt his hand caress your bare thigh.

“I knowww-” he hummed, tracing his hand down in between your thighs till he felt the warmth radiating from you. Taking his fingers and pressing them against your clothed cunt. You huffed out quietly at the pressure, looking into his eyes and feeling warmth brush against your nose.

Letting out a small giggle when he felt how messy your panties were. “I haven't even done anything yet-” he smiled, blue eyes staring holes through yours. “And you're already this wet for me?” he hummed, tracing his fingers beneath the band of your panties. Y

ou looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, letting out a small sigh when he circled his middle and ring finger at your entrance. Seeing you writhe beneath him, “Satoru-” you whined, knowing if you didn’t say something he'd just keep teasing.

“I think you missed me too.” he smiled, sliding his middle finger inside of you slowly, gasping when he felt your cunt pulse around him. 

The back of your hand pressed against your mouth so you wouldn't make too much noise. “Don't be that way-” he hummed, taking your hand from your face and seeing your eyebrows pinch together, slipping his middle finger out slowly, pressing it to his ring finger and slowly sliding himself back inside.

“I did-” You exhaled, the curl his fingers took making you close your eyes. “I missed you.” you gasped, feeling his fingers press against the spot that made you rise to your tiptoes. This made Satoru giggle,

“Oh? But didn’t you just see me yesterday?” he mocked you, the edge of his palm pressing against your clit as you huffed at his words. His long fingers pumping inside of you, too slow for your tastes.

Whining a forced “Please” as you felt his palm tease your throbbing clit. He smiled looking at your expression, knowing you were getting to the pinnacle he wanted you at. Slowly pulling his fingers out of you, smile on his lips as he watched the disappointed look on your face form.

Leaning in and pressing a wet kiss onto your blushed lips. You were hesitant to kiss him back, but you did. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his tongue inside your mouth, swirling against your own tongue as he hummed.

Satoru’s eyes half lidded, watching you submit to him as your hand found their way to the side of his face, the other on his bicep. Gripping onto him as though your life depended on it, this only made Satoru smile against you. Pulling from your lips and trailing his hands up your oversized t-shirt. Making direct contact with the upper part of your hips. Groaning against you as his fingers felt slight goosebumps form at his trailing touches.

Placing a wet kiss onto the corner of your mouth, peppering kisses towards your ear. Licking a long stripe onto the shell of your ear that made you squirm.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you all day.” he whispered, his breath making you shift against the wall. He took your hand into his, slowly guiding it to feel his strained cock in his pants. Feeling it slightly twitch against your touch, he let out a low groan as your grip on his print tightened.

You smiled with a quiet huff, “Then do it-” you teased. This only egged Satoru on. His hand tight against your hip as he flipped you over quickly, your chest now pressed against the wall. You pushed your ass out against his hips. Your hand grazing the print his cock left in his pants. Leaning to your ear almost groaning when he felt your fingers graze past his caged tip.

Letting out a smiley gasp, “See how you have me?” he purred into your ear, making you move your hips against him. 

You whined feeling his hand roam from your hip onto the plump of your ass. Rubbing the clothed skin lovingly, “So pretty for me.” he smiled, hooking his fingers onto the sides of your panties and sliding them to your knees.

Back arched and your hands now on the wall to brace for what's coming to you, “Put it inside-” you whined, grinding your bare bottom against his clothed cock in hopes he'd hurry up a little.

“Oh? You need me that badly?” he teased, making you turn your head slightly to look at him. You let out a needy ‘Mhm’ as his eyes widened at the sight of your face. “I know- I know.” he cooed, seeing how flushed your face was.

“When have I ever failed you, hmm?” he asked you, already knowing the answer. Taking his hand and undoing his belt, shoving his black briefs down and wincing when the tip of his flushed cock hit the air. Spreading your cheeks slightly, inhaling through clenched teeth as he saw your cunt glimmer.

Taking the two fingers that were inside of you previously and sliding them down your core. Shivering against his teasing touch. Letting out a low whine when you felt the tips of his pale fingers brush against your clit. His mouth slack jawed as he saw how slick you really were. 

The mere sight of you made him fall to his knees. Almost in prayer as he came eye to eye with your pulsating cunt with a small gasp. Taking both of his hands and placing them on your ass. You squirmed, feeling his breath against your cunt, pressing yourself closer to the wall when you felt his tongue lick at your hole.

You moaned his name which only made him push his nose further into your cunt. His tongue slowly lapped against your clit as you squirmed.

Taking one of the hands that was on your ass and trailing it down to the back of your thigh. Taking his thumb and rubbing light circles against your clit, drawing his tongue back to your hole as he worked you.

The feeling made you gasp sharply, Satoru’s eyes started to roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your cunt pulsing around his tongue. Throwing yourself back onto his face slightly.

His tongue wasn't enough, you needed all of him inside. Groaning against your cunt as he felt his cock start to leak, the sounds you were making made his head feel dizzy.

Your eyes screwed shut, frustrated whines leaving your lips as you arched your back even more. You felt yourself start to get back to the feeling he ripped away from you moments earlier.

“Satoru-” you whined, feeling his grip on your ass tighten. “M’close-” you whimpered, cheek against the wall and feeling him smile against you.

His thumb quickening against your clit makes you gasp, muttering a quiet “Right there-” as you felt yourself come undone with a shivering moan. Satoru greedily slurped at the wetness that slipped out of your cunt, you let out a small opened mouth pant at the feeling. 

Placing a small kiss to your cunt before standing again, cock laid against your lower back as he lifted the hem of his jacket throwing it off along with his shirt.

Taking his lip between his teeth, sliding his hands from your ass up your back. Rubbing slowly up your back beneath your shirt as you shifted against him. “Impatient aren't you?” he smiled, taking his hands and guiding you to take your shirt off. Tossing it aside and he saw your exposed back.

“Need you inside ‘Toru-” you whined, feeling his hands trail up your back and land on your shoulders. Placing a wet kiss onto your nape before his hands trailed to your jaw. Leaning over and pulling your head back, seeing your eyes lock with his.

'Tsk tsk tsk’ he smiled “Naughty, naughty.” he cooed when he saw you let out a small whine. Knowing as much as you'd tell him to shut up, you liked hearing his unnecessary comments. Taking one of his hands and grasping it around his cock.

Trailing his hand to rest below your chin, pulling you back further. Smiling before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Lining himself up with you cunt, pursing his lips as he looked at you, lips parted with small pleads falling from your lips.

Pressing the tip of his weeping cock against your entrance, pinching his eyebrows together and inhaling. Letting his jaw fall at the feeling. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile when he saw you close your mouth and see a small grin on your lips.

Sucking in air through pursed lips when he felt your cunt suck him in, “You're so greedy~” he hummed, making your lips part and scanning his features. Sadistic blue eyes staring into yours as he pulled himself out of you slowly.

That stupid smirk not leaving his lips before thrusting into you again, this time only rougher. Making you clench around him, gaining a groan from his lips. His hand letting go of your jaw and holding your hips as he slowly dragged himself out of you. Your hands back onto the wall as you heard him let out low groans behind you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside of you.

Closing his eyes and throwing his head back, mouth open as he let out loud groans. His hands guiding you back onto him like you were some toy. The sounds he was making made you reach one of your hands back to grasp his. “Fuckkk” he moaned, feeling you squeeze around him. 

The side of your face pressed against the wall harshly, feeling Satoru quicken his pace. Hissing through clenched teeth, almost like you felt him in your throat. Eyes screwed shut as you fucked yourself back onto him. This made Satoru stop his thrusts, his hands easing their grip on your hips.

Looking down with half lidded eyes, seeing you fuck yourself onto his cock. Seeing how your ass stuttered against his hips. “My god-” he huffed, seeing how desperate you looked bouncing off of him.

He leaned over, hunched over your back before whispering in your ear. “Lemme cum inside of you, yeah?” He smiled, huffing against your ear as he thrusted into you. You only nodded your head ‘yes’, hearing him let out a stifled laugh.

“I wanna hear you say it~” he purred, making you clench around his cock.

“Satoru-” you moaned against the wall, making his hips speed up against you. “Please come inside-” you whined, hearing him let out a shaky breath against your ear.

Knees trembling as he straightened his back and thrusted into you quicker. Feeling his weeping tip kiss your cervix, “You're so deep ‘Toru-” You moaned, feeling the grip on your hips tighten, hearing a breathless laugh leave him.

Quickly snapping his hips into you, pushing you further into the wall as you let out a loud whine. Hearing him mumble something but not being able to comprehend what it was. His cock drilling into you as your eyes squeezed shut.

Satoru pulled out once more shaky hips struggling to push back into you. Feeling his tip twitch inside of you. Warm liquid trickling inside of you as he groaned loudly. His pants now around his ankles along with his briefs.

 “Again.” he whispered. Making you furrow your eyebrows at how his cock was still hard inside of you. Starting to thrust inside of you again, his thrusts were more sloppy as you moaned.

“Toru-” you whined, hearing his heavy breathing behind you, hands pulling you back onto him as he started raising your hips slightly. Standing on your tip toes as he took the hand that was on yours and raised it. Pressing it against the wall. Fingers intertwined as he thrusted inside of you, being able to hear just how messy your cunt was getting.

His hand on your ass making red marks form on it from how hard he was gripping onto you. “Wait-” you whined, feeling his chin rest against your shoulder. Thrusting inside of you at a new angle. Not being able to see it but you knew his face had a dopey smile plastered onto it.

“That doesn't sound like a safe word~” he purred, his cock brushing past your sweet spot quickly making you let out a small whine.

“Right there-” you gasped, being able to feel his tip now nudging into the spot that made you moan uncontrollably. Squeezing your cunt around his cock, making him let out a drawn out whine right next to your ear.

Feeling yourself come undone on his cock. It didn't take long for Satoru to come again, lazy hips thrusting into you as his chest heaved. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple as he looked at his hand that engulfed yours, pinned to the wall and seeing how your fingers intertwined with his. He let out a huff, moaning a string of ‘I’m cumming’ into your ear. Slow thrusts as he felt a shiver run down his spine. 

Satoru took a second to catch his breath, taking the hand that was on your ass and placing it to the side of your face. Lifting his chin from your shoulder and looking into your eyes. Seeing his flushed face, lips parted as he leaned in to kiss you. Sloppy tongue in your mouth as you felt his hips start to move again.

Opening your eyes mid kiss in surprise. Seeing him looking at you with half lidded eyes. Swapping spit with him, making it drip from the side of your mouth. He pulled away, straightening his back. Dropping your hand from the wall and landing it on your ass. His lip trembled between his teeth.

Thrusting into you slowly, but making sure to get as deep as he could. Satoru’s incoherent mumbling made your ears hurt trying to understand him.

Feeling his hips press against you everytime he thrusted, but his teasing words were no longer in the air. A few whimpers and whines followed by the quiet whispers he said to himself.

You called him through a whine, not hearing him respond or halt his movements. You looked back to him, calves burning from being on your tiptoes. Seeing how focused his face was, so focused he didn't even notice you looking at him. Your eyes locked on his lips.

Blurry vision attempting to focus on what he was saying through your moans. Trying to make out what he was saying over and over again. ‘Get’ you heard, feeling him thrust into you quicker. His eyes glued to the sight of your cunt sucking him in, a ring of white at the base of his cock.

You squint your eyes trying to focus on what he was saying. Finding it difficult to hear through the steady sound of your ass plapping against his hips.

‘Get pregnant.’

Your eyes widened when you heard his words clearly now. Furrowing your eyebrows when you realized he had been mumbling this whole time.

You turned your head back around, small gasps leaving your lips as he sped up. Now being able to hear the string of the demand from his lips clearly. You closed your eyes, holding back the whines that threatened to leave your throat.

Feeling his hips stutter against you. Satoru screwed his eyes shut and threw his head back. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the overstimulation against the tip of his cock.

A low groan leaving his throat as he came inside of you one last time. Feeling his knees weaken as he panted. You were gasping for air. Feeling how full your cunt suddenly felt. Satoru sighed, feeling his cock finally softening inside of you. Wishing he could stay inside of you to keep all of what he pumped inside of you. 

Your brace on the wall eased, slowly easing yourself down from the tip of your toes. Satoru’s forehead resting at the back of your head as he caught his breath. Closing his eyes and sighing. Leaning down to press a gentle kiss onto your shoulder.

Wincing as he slowly pulled himself out of you. Hoping nothing oozed out of your cunt. You turned yourself slightly, looking up to see his flushed face. Eyebrows furrowed as you contemplated asking him.

“Am I crazy or did I hear you saying ‘get pregnant’?” You questioned, seeing his face drop quickly before smiling again.

“No idea what you're talking about.” He grinned, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Looking into your eyes as though he wasn't lying right now.

“But if you want me to- all you have to do is ask~” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your lips. Your eyebrows stayed furrowed as you mentally questioned if you did hear him say those two words.

-

pt 2 here

every time I think to write something short it always ends up being longer than 1k words. what is wrong with me. also I am a big fan of the whole topic of Gojo into breeding. started this at 5:35 pm- finished at 11:50 pm. nonstop. I need to be put in a cage

[sirenscriptures]

princess treatment - mw2 men

✧ synopsis: men who secretly (or not so secretly) live for treating you like royalty. even in the most mundane or difficult of times, you are their personal sanctuary.

۶♡ৎ featuring: johnny “soap” mactavish, simon “ghost” riley, captain john price, alejandro vargas, and könig.

before you read: female reader, sub reader, lots and lots of body worship, praise, soft sex, a little dacryphilia if u squint, breeding, cockwarming, cunnilingus, hair pulling, fingering, mirror sex, use of pet/endearment names.

۶♡ৎ johnny “soap” mactavish ۶♡ৎ

✧ if there’s a man who is never ashamed to spoil you in any way he can, it’s johnny. ever since you two made it official he was all over the idea of showing you off and spoiling you to no end.

✧ outside of combat and missions, you can bet he dedicates so much of his time to you–his sweet girl.

✧ god help you if he comes home from a longer mission. you will not be able to pry him away from you for days. it’s not like you mind at all, though. his kisses are everything you wanted, so weighted and passionate, and he’s not even fully through the threshold of the front door when he first sees you again.

✧ his hands are already nestled in your hair, pressing your back against the wall as his tongue slips into your mouth. with his warm breath tickling your mouth, you can’t help but let out one of the sweetest whimpers he’s ever heard. god, it never fully occurred to him how much he loved to make you whine for him.

✧ “oh banphrionsa…” he murmurs, lips moving down to your sensitive neck. “i missed you.”

✧ “i missed you, too…” you stammer out feebly, the heat rising within your cheeks. your already flustered expression sparks a familiar fire within him as he moves you into his arms, carrying you towards your shared bedroom.

✧ it doesn’t take much to get you both out of your clothes, yet johnny still can’t get over how good you look. every time he gets to see you like this, it doesn’t matter how many times, he still gets so excited over it.

✧ “shit, baby…” he murmurs, peppering kisses on your upper body as he climbs on top of you. “you make me so crazy, y’know that?”

✧ nodding, you can’t help but give him that flirty smile that he loves so much. his lips crash onto yours again, tongue relishing the taste of your mouth. meanwhile, his hands are admiring your bare body as if you’re a rare jewel.

✧ even when just kissing you, it’s clear soap adores you in every way possible. it’s evident in the way he touches, kisses, and fucks you. he never wastes a single moment with you, and is always making sure you know just how special you are.

✧ even in between thrusts, his hands and words always ensure you’re reminded that you’re his special girl—his princess. the feeling of him stretching out your walls as he continually praises you is enough to draw you to tears—from both overstimulation and emotion.

✧ when he can tell you’re close to an orgasm, he pulls you closer into him even more, thrusts going deeper and deeper each moment. “i love you so much, sweetheart.” he groans, seed sputtering inside of you as your back arches against his chest, the sweetest moans flowing from your lips as you finish along with him.

۶♡ৎ simon “ghost” riley ۶♡ৎ

✧ for someone so reserved as simon, it was no surprise how much he valued your time alone together.

✧ in the past, he really preferred to be by himself when he had the time to spare. he always felt most himself when he wasn’t around too many people. but over time, it became natural that you were with him in these moments that brought him great peace.

✧ but past all things missions and duty, he deeply cherished when he got to be home alone with you. that way, he felt completely devoted to treating you the way you always deserved: like royalty.

✧ well, his version of royalty in this sense was a bit different than the conventional meaning of the term. but, in true simon fashion, it was quite fitting. and plus, he knew you loved it.

✧ the way he held you so perfectly in front of the mirror, hands caressing your body as his cock plunged in and out of you, he made sure you felt within every inch that you were all his.

✧ with your walls fluttering around him, you made it so much harder for him to hold back. simon knew you felt the same, the way your breaths depleted to mere shudders, your eyes glazing over with the faintest hint of tears.

✧ gently, his hand cupped under your chin, making you stare at your delicate frame against his broad chest. “now, now, sweet girl…” he purrs, breath tingling on your neck.

✧ “i can’t have you breaking on me now, can i?” his slightly raspy tone is loving, yet teasing you at the same time as a calloused thumb swipes away a tear streaking down your cheek. simon has always hated seeing you cry, but when he can make you cry from pure pleasure, you can bet that makes him feel on top of the world.

✧ “i need you to see how pretty you are, love.” you don’t even have to see his full face to feel his smirk against you. not even his full coverage mask could hide that from you on his best day.

✧ there is a sense of pride in his gaze as he looks at you through your reflection. with his hand under your chin, your expression is absolutely priceless. your glassed-over, desperate eyes practically plead for more, and your kiss-swollen lips are still as irresistible as ever. he can’t hide how proud he is that he’s made a mess of you–his sweet girl.

✧ “there you are, princess.” he teases, watching you stare at yourself in a daze. his thrusts are slow in and out of you as a free hand rubs and pinches at your nipples. your head falls back onto his shoulder, another broken moan falling from your agape mouth. simon feels you clenching around him again, the feeling earning a growl from him.

✧ but still, his thrusts remain tender and slow, ensuring you feel every part of him. as much as he’d love to ravage you with rough, fast thrusts, he loves your reactions to his deep, slow pace far too much in this moment. plus, this was all about your pleasure.

✧ it isn’t long before his warm seed is ribboning inside you, eventually dribbling down your quivering thighs as your orgasm joins with his own. your noises are so sweet, something he can never get enough of. and the look of you is enough to make him fall in love with you thousands of times over.

✧ he smiles at you, lips colliding messily with yours, admiring how warm your face is as he holds you. “you did so well for me,” he murmurs, breathing in your comforting scent. “my pretty girl.”

۶♡ৎ john price ۶♡ৎ

✧ believe it or not, captain price could be quite the romantic type. though, as a man with such a stoic position as a captain, that side never got much of a chance to reveal itself. unless, of course, he was alone with his favorite woman in the world…

✧ getting to see him in such a rare position felt so special to you. he was so sweet and gentle with you, it always found a way to make you swoon. and you bet price adored having that effect over you.

✧ the fact his mere touch could make you melt beneath him was enthralling, and definitely made him want more. of course, what better way to do that than to spoil you, right? after all, that was his favorite thing to do when he had his time with you.

✧ but it was his absolute favorite when he could be in between your legs, and he could stay there for hours. the feeling of you squirming beneath him had so many ways of making him feral for you, and he knew you loved it when he got to that point.

✧ while his tongue swirled over your sensitive clit, he could feel your hips bucking into his face ever so slightly, your noises growing louder each moment. you could hardly contain yourself any longer, and price adored every second of it.

✧ every few minutes, he would lay sweet kisses over your folds, fingers teasing your entrance from time to time. “sweetheart, you have no idea the things you do to me…” he breathes out, suckling at the sensitive bud again.

✧ your back starts to arch at his words, hands gripping tightly at the sheets. price lets out a satisfied chuckle as his fingers finally push inside your wetness. the feeling of your walls is just as he expects: heavenly. you’re so warm and welcoming to his fingers, it's almost hard for him not to push himself into you as a whole right then and there.

✧ “close already, yeah?” he teases, mouth still working at you, his fingers doing the same. the look in your eye confirms that for him, making his blood rush with excitement as your bottom lip hooks beneath your teeth.

✧ he smirks at you from between your legs. “well, allow me to help with that, angel.” price let his fingers curl inside of you towards your sweet spot, earning a strangled cry from you, your back arching even more.

✧ as his tongue slithered about your wetness, he marveled at the way you tightened around his fingers, especially when you released yourself. you sounded so sweet, and he couldn’t deny he wanted more of that from you.

✧ his lips finally met with yours, pulling your body close to his again. though, he was nowhere near done with you, he knew he wanted to admire you in this pleasure-filled haze just a bit more…

۶♡ৎ alejandro vargas ۶♡ৎ

✧ despite his roughened, at times crass exterior, alejandro had no problem showing his soft, vulnerable side to you and only you. he seldom ever let that gentle side slip outwards in front of just anybody, so you considered yourself lucky to have grown this close to him.

✧ besides, nothing could ever beat having those hypnotic dark eyes and that charming smile of his directed at you, and only you.

✧ but there was something about that certain…look you gave him in these moments that filled him with an endless desire to please you and spoil your body in so many different ways. it was that sweet, almost innocent look with a small lip bite that could make him fold you over in a matter of seconds.

✧ one thing about alejandro is that he preferred when he could take his time with you. he was the last one who wanted a quickie or something short. if he was going to pleasure his love, he was going to make sure you felt it.

✧ so when he has you sprawled out on the bed, cockwarming him as he caresses every inch of you, he can’t help but tease you just a bit from time to time. your whole body responds to him so perfectly, it’s too good of an opportunity to pass up. can you really blame him?

✧ “ale…” you mewl out shakily, the feeling of his lips on your neck nearly pushing you over the edge. he smirks at you, hands continuing to massage your breasts. “hmm?” he hums against your skin, still leaving pretty marks all over you.

✧ you can barely even form words in this state. “mmmh, need you…” you stagger, breath hitching as his tongue starts to swirl around your protruding nipple.

✧ “you need to use your words, mi vida.” he presses a kiss to your neck again, taking you by the chin gently so he can stare at you properly. “what do you need from me?”

✧ alejandro’s gaze is soft yet still commanding, easily sending a shiver down your back. you take a breath, cupping his face in your hand. “i…need you to fuck me, please.” you manage, that sweet look that drove him feral still in your eyes.

✧ his lips press messily against you, a hand wrapping around your neck now. “que educada, princesa.” he chuckles, admiring how you tremble beneath him as he starts to move.

✧ his growls only add to your pleasure as he pushes deep inside you, your walls responding with a warm clench, making his grip on your hips tighter. you can feel your orgasm growing closer, moans growing shaky and incoherent.

✧ listening to his name fall so shattered from your lips pushed him over the edge, cum spilling into you as he watched in awe as your legs trembled and you clenched around him a final time.

✧ between warm, breathless kisses, he smiles at you again. “you’re so good to me, amor.” he says, pulling you close to his chest.

۶♡ৎ könig ۶♡ৎ

✧ in all honesty, könig has no idea how he got so lucky to have you. you were everything and more he could’ve ever asked for in a woman.

✧ even though he was far from inexperienced in the world of relationships and intimacy, you had a way of making him feel like it was the first time in every moment he got to spend with you.

✧ but some of his favorite moments came from when he got to spoil you. it didn’t matter if it was taking a lazy day where you stayed home or in bed for hours in the late morning, or if he was taking you out to one of your favorite places, as long as he was in your company, he was more than content.

✧ but if he had to pick an absolute favorite pastime with you… it had to be when he was able to worship you from head to toe.

✧ there was something so enthralling for both of you, having such a large man, in nothing but his boxers, on his knees in front of you, kissing every single inch of you as you sat on the bed, staring down in admiration.

✧ könig’s gentle expression as he looks up at you still has the power to give you butterflies even after being together for so long. the closer his mouth gets to the fabric of your underwear, he gives you a look until you eventually nod, making his lips spread into a smile.

✧ peeling the fabric to the side, his tongue swirls over your wetness. your back arches in response, head falling back as you let a moan escape. hearing you in this state drives him even further, pulling you by your hips against his face.

✧ even when you’re trembling, he continues. your moans have broken down to shaky sobs as he tonguefucks you, his growls vibrating against you. he can’t get enough of your taste, even when you’ve already come for him.

✧ eventually, he pulls away, licking his lips before kissing a trail up your stomach. his eyes stare into yours lovingly, fingers running through your hair.

✧ “you did so well, meine liebe.” he praises, kissing your neck before smirking. “but i’m nowhere near done with you.”

“banphrionsa” = princess, “mi vida” = my life, “que educada, princesa.” = how polite, princess. “meine liebe” = my love.

written by sirenscriptures. do not repost on any other website. do not translate, copy, or use.

[shaisuki]

sukuna is rather entertained. fascinated even.

how his two cocks buried inside you and rearranging your guts didn't even make a dent in your round stomach. he should be seeing the two of his cock head bulging in your belly but it wasn't. all he can do is press one of his palms to feel the ridge of his cock inside you.

the king of curses had been existing in a long time for fucking concubines and women who presented themselves. afraid of what he is capable of but they all end up the same. crushed by his raw strength and left bleeding for him to consume. he grew tired of those women. the same stature and build. where his nails can scrape the bones out of their flesh and his cocks can pierce their flat stomachs while he fucks them mercilessly. he should have fucked you sooner when you came in his temple with the concubines gathered for a drop of his attention.

sharp nails digging in your supple flesh. amused at the layered pouch of a belly you carry and it jiggles and rolls like waves while he roughly shoves his two inhumane cocks inside your sopping, fat pussy.

the loud squelch of your juices leaking in his cocks mixed with his own cum that he dumped inside your womb added the intensity of the carnal desire he have for you.

his soft, pliant, little concubine. of course, you would be little for him no matter how big you perceived yourself. as if sukuna would care for that. a hole is a hole no matter who owns it and simply you have the best pussy and the body for a king like him.

too fascinated and engrossed with his new discovery that he didn't give attention to what you look like. you would be a an another pretty face for him but only he look at your face when he hears the tiniest of moans being suppressed and did he was blessed with the most softer features a woman can have. your round cheeks stained by the stray tears rolling from your misty eyes and your lips forming into a pout.

“look me in the eyes, woman.” he orders and you were quick to follow him. afraid of the consequences and sukuna can see the tears clumping at your lashes and the desperate suppression of your moans wanting to spill at the rough thrusts of his heavy cocks inside you.

“s—sukuna-sama~” the words slips out of your mouth out of the blue and when you realized your mistake, you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the imminent death that is about to come to you.

the way his name careless flows out of your mouth and your tight cunt squeezing around his cocks spurred him to drill his cocks deeper inside to you. kissing your cervix deeply that it almost protrudes the opening of your womb that is about to take his load again.

there wasn't blood came bursting from your body and only the droplets of blood from his earlier assault had stayed and you were still intact. you almost sighed from relief if it wasn't the continuous movements of his hips and the heavy balls slapping your ass preventing you to feel an ounce of relief.

you almost squealed when his lower arms grabs the sides of your chest. hoisting you easily in a sitting position with his cocks still impaled to your abused cunt. one of his upper arms is used as resting place for his jaw. red eyes moving up and down. watching as his cum trickles in his cocks and your round belly coils like spring from him thrusting his hips up and down. the mouth in his stomach licks it lips before the mouth in his face had done the same thing. amused and his boredom quenched temporarily. you were afraid and never been this aroused when the words came from him.

“tell me, woman.” he began, almost smirking before it breaks out into a full one. “can my cocks be seen in this flesh of yours if i gave you my brat?”

[ghosts-cyphera]

pornstar! ghost who buys u cute little underwear sets for every scene u do together ?? he says it doesn’t mean anything but in reality he spent hours trying to pick out the nicest colours n fit for u <33

18+; mdni / suggestive fluff / pornstar!ghost x fem!reader; masterlist here ♡

ghost's foot drummed against the ground as he studied the boutique from the street. the window displays were decorated with flower arrangements and expensive-looking cotton clouds, among which golden hangers displayed the most intricate sets of lingerie he had ever seen.

fitting for you.

you, who he knew—no matter what kind of a scene you were shooting—liked to feel beautiful on set. beautiful just to be adored and worshipped: to be made love to, or beautiful to be turned messy: to be fucked and made to feel used. that touch of something pure was always there when you showed up for work, day after day with a sparkle in your eyes.

with a warm chuckle, ghost stepped inside. 

everything about the boutique reminded him of a candy store. the colors, the details, and even the scent of something sweet were all tugging the corners of his lips into a warm smile.

he was utterly out of his comfort zone, but fuck, did it also make him feel all sorts of fucking thrilled. 

you’d love the place to bits.

“shopping with a special someone in mind?” 

the words flowed from the tongue of a sales assistant: a twinkly-eyed woman whose arms spread in a greeting as she closed the distance to him. “a partner, perhaps?”

bloody hell.

“oh, no—err—,” ghost cursed under his breath as he let out a deep laugh. “just a friend, really.”

“that’s one lucky friend right there,” she chuckled. “we carry a wide range of sizes and models for all body types, but if there’s any chance that you’d happen to know their measurements, that would—“

“yeah. of course. yeah, I’ve got—,” his finger slid into the pocket of his jacket, and he pulled out a neatly folded note that he handed to the assistant with a grin. “I—err—asked her stylist.”

“your friend is in the show business, is she?” the assistant mused as she unfolded the paper—a touch of warm amusement on her features as her eyes scanned the handwriting. “perfect. I see that they’ve included everything we need for finding the—,” she paused, her brows rising as a bright smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “you really did come prepared, huh?”

“yeah, I’ve got val to thank for that,” he let out a laugh as his gaze traveled across the store. everything about the space screamed luxury, from the velvet couches to the tall windows and the complimentary champagne that the assistant—nila, she introduced herself—was now offering him.

yet with a shake of his head and a polite smile ghost declined the drink, all due to the spark of curiosity prickling under his skin.

while he was not usually a man to display his feelings and emotions publicly, as his feet now led him towards a stand in the middle of the store, he knew there was no use in trying to bite down his smile. 

for on a round stand, surrounding a tall flower-arrangement, half a dozen sets of lingerie were gently placed: each of them damn near handcrafted to you.

their colors, cuts, and details were all you.

“seems like something’s stood out," nila’s voice was warm as she stepped to him.

“she’ll call me a bloody stalker for knowing her this damn well, but these—,” ghost let out a warm chuckle as he nodded his head, “yeah. she’d feel fuckin’ beautiful in these.”

“you really do know her,” she peered up at him, much in the same way that he was used to with other women. yet what came to her, in her eyes was nothing but genuine curiosity: warmth not towards ghost, but towards you. “she’s really lucky to have someone like that.”

“it’s really fuckin’ me who’s gotten lucky,” despite the whisper of a smile on his features, with his words his voice dipped ever so slightly. “she’s the best thing I’ve ever—,” he wet his lips with a chuckle. “it’s the way she makes you feel seen. special. like you—“ he shook his head. “fuckin’ hell do I know. never really been good with words.”

“if even a fraction of that glimmer in your eyes is visible when you look at her—,” nila arched an amused brow. “believe me, she knows.”

“rather she didn’t.”

“stuck on that stage, huh?”

ghost grinned, wetting his lips as a touch of warmth rose to play on his cheeks. “alright, enough of that, yeah? back to the—,” he gestured towards the stand with a chuckle, “fuckin’ lingerie, eh?”

the next two hours flew by on wings as ghost gathered a selection of pieces for you. each one was carefully picked not only to bring attention to all those things he knew you loved about yourself but also all those small parts that you were still learning to embrace. all of it—he hoped—to help you see yourself in the way that he saw you.

nothing short of perfect.

“the last one,” nila smiled as her fingers finished tying off one last satin bow: one just as perfect as the previous dozen had been. “and we’re all done.”

ghost wet his lips with a chuckle as he reached for the gift box. “is it weird to suddenly feel fuckin' nervous?”

“a little,” she smiled. “you really don't need to worry,” she arched a carefully amused brow, “ghost.”

his gaze found hers, his brows furrowing slightly. “you know who—“

“from the moment you walked in.” nila’s laugh was soft as she leaned against the counter: her amusement now reflecting back on the features of ghost.

“and so, you know who these are for, eh?"

“it’s just a wild guess, really.” her grin turned into a careful smile. “she’s beautiful. don’t—,” she shook her head. “don’t let her go.”

“fan of hers?”

“sexual awakening of sorts.”

“fuckin’ understandable,” ghost’s laugh was breathless as he pushed off the counter, his hands now filled with gift bags. “thank you, eh? for all your help.”

“of course,” she beamed—only for her eyes to widen with a sudden realization. “hold up! I almost forgot—“ she reached over the counter to wrap her fingers around the note of measurements scribbled down by valeria. 

“believe me,” nila laughed as she slipped it into the pocket of ghost’s jacket. “you don’t want to lose it.”

it was not until he had made his way home that he finally fished out the folded paper: the one that did not only include the measurements of your bust, hips, and waist. scribbled at the bottom was also an additional message, accompanied by a small hand-drawn picture.

on the off chance that one of these days you’ll go and admit just how down bad you are for her. – V

a measurement, and next to it, a drawing of a ring.

fuckin’ hell.

ghost blinked his eyes shut with his laugh, deep and warm.

for now, the small pile of gift-wrapped boxes would have to do, yet as he walked to his bookshelf and slid the note between the pages of his favorite book… 

that’s when he promised himself to never lose that small paper, and with it, the reminder to hold onto you, too.

a/n: aah my wee cheeks are literally cramping from how brightly I smiled when writing this, haha. too cute? nah, we don’t know her. love you all! / pornstar!ghost masterlist / my inbox is still so very open for all your thoughts about him. 💌

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

“Show, Don’t Tell”…But This Time Someone Explains It

If you’ve ever been on the hunt for writing advice, you've definitely seen the phrase “Show, Don’t Tell.”

Writeblr coughs up these three words on the daily; it’s often considered the “Golden Rule” of writing. However, many posts don't provide an in-depth explanation about what this "Golden Rule" means (This is most likely to save time, and under the assumption that viewers are already informed).

More dangerously, some posts fail to explain that “Show, Don’t Tell” occasionally doesn’t apply in certain contexts, toeing a dangerous line by issuing a blanket statement to every writing situation. 

The thing to take away from this is: “Show, Don’t Tell” is an essential tool for more immersive writing, but don't feel like a bad writer if you can’t make it work in every scenario (or if you can’t get the hang of it!)

1. What Does "Show, Don't Tell" Even Mean?

“Show, Don’t Tell” is a writing technique in which the narrative or a character’s feelings are related through sensory details rather than exposition. Instead of telling the reader what is happening, the reader infers what is happening due to the clues they’ve been shown.

EXAMPLE 1:

Telling: The room was very cold. Showing: She shivered as she stepped into the room, her breath steaming in the air.

EXAMPLE 2:

Telling: He was furious. Showing: He grabbed the nearest book and hurled it against the wall, his teeth bared and his eyes blazing.

EXAMPLE 3 ("SHOW, DON'T TELL" DOESN'T HAVE TO MEAN "WRITE A LOT MORE")

Telling: The room hadn't been lived in for a very long time. Showing: She shoved the door open with a spray of dust.

Although the “showing” sentences don’t explicitly state how the characters felt, you as the reader use context clues to form an interpretation; it provides information in an indirect way, rather than a direct one.

Because of this, “Show, Don’t Tell” is an incredibly immersive way to write; readers formulate conclusions alongside the characters, as if they were experiencing the story for themselves instead of spectating. 

As you have probably guessed, “showing” can require a lot more words (as well as patience and effort). It’s a skill that has to be practiced and improved, so don’t feel discouraged if you have trouble getting it on the first try!

2. How Do I Use “Show, Don’t Tell” ?

There are no foolproof parameters about where you “show” and not “tell" or vice versa; it’s more of a writing habit that you develop rather than something that you selectively decide to employ.

In actuality, most stories are a blend of both showing and telling, and more experienced writers instinctively switch between one and another to cater to their narrative needs. You need to find a good balance of both in order to create a narrative that is both immersive and engaging.

i. Help When Your Writing Feels Bare-Bones/Soulless/Boring

Your writing is just not what you’ve pictured in your head, no matter how much you do it over. Conversations are stilted. The characters are flat. The sentences don’t flow as well as they do in the books you've read. What’s missing?

It’s possibly because you’ve been “telling” your audience everything and not “showing”! If a reader's mind is not exercised (i.e. they're being "spoon-fed" all of the details), your writing may feel boring or uninspired!

Instead of saying that a room was old and dingy, maybe describe the peeling wallpaper. The cobwebs in the corners. The smell of dust and old mothballs. Write down what you see in your mind's eye, and allow your audience to formulate their own interpretations from that. (Scroll for a more in-depth explanation on HOW to develop this skill!)

ii. Add More Depth and Emotion to Your Scenes

Because "Show, Don't Tell" is a more immersive way of writing, a reader is going to feel the narrative beats of your story a lot more deeply when this rule is utilized.

Describing how a character has fallen to their knees sobbing and tearing our their hair is going to strike a reader's heart more than saying: "They were devastated."

Describing blood trickling through a character's fingers and staining their clothes will seem more dire than saying: "They were gravely wounded."

iii. Understand that Sometimes Telling Can Fit Your Story Better

Telling can be a great way to show your characters' personalities, especially when it comes to first-person or narrator-driven stories. Below, I've listed a few examples; however, this list isn't exclusive or comprehensive!

Initial Impressions and Character Opinions

If a character describes someone's outfit as "gaudy" or a room as "absolutely disgusting," it can pack more of a punch about their initial impression, rather than describing the way that they react (and can save you some words!). In addition, it can provide some interesting juxtaposition (i.e. when a character describes a dog as "hideous" despite telling their friend it looks cute).

2. Tone and Reader Opinions

Piggybacking off of the first point, you can "tell, not show" when you want to be certain about how a reader is supposed to feel about something. "Showing" revolves around readers drawing their own conclusions, so if you want to make sure that every reader draws the same conclusion, "telling" can be more useful! For example, if you describe a character's outfit as being a turquoise jacket with zebra-patterned pants, some readers may be like "Ok yeah a 2010 Justice-core girlie is slaying!" But if you want the outfit to come across as badly arranged, using a "telling" word like "ridiculous" or "gaudy" can help set the stage.

3. Pacing

"Show, don't tell" can often take more words; after all, describing a character's reaction is more complicated than stating how they're feeling. If your story calls for readers to be focused more on the action than the details, such as a fight or chase scene, sometimes "telling" can serve you better than "showing." A lot of writers have dedicated themselves to the rule "tell action, show emotion," but don't feel like you have to restrict yourself to one or the other.

iv. ABOVE ALL ELSE: Getting Words on the Page is More Important!

If you’re stuck on a section of your story and just can’t find it in yourself to write poetic, flowing prose, getting words on the paper is more important than writing something that’s “good.” If you want to be able to come back and fix it later, put your writing in brackets that you can Ctrl + F later.

Keeping your momentum is the hardest part of writing. Don't sacrifice your inspiration in favor of following rules!

3. How Can I Get Better at “Show, Don’t Tell”?

i. Use the Five Senses, and Immerse Yourself!

Imagine you’re the protagonist, standing in the scene that you have just created. Think of the setting. What are things about the space that you’d notice, if you were the one in your character’s shoes?

Smell? Hear? See? Touch? Taste?

Sight and sound are the senses that writers most often use, but don’t discount the importance of smell and taste! Smell is the most evocative sense, triggering memories and emotions the moment someone walks into the room and has registered what is going on inside—don’t take it for granted. And even if your character isn’t eating, there are some things that can be “tasted” in the air.

EXAMPLE:

TELLING: She walked into the room and felt disgusted. It smelled, and it was dirty and slightly creepy. She wished she could leave. SHOWING: She shuffled into the room, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a suspicious stain on the carpet. The blankets on the bed were moth-bitten and yellowed, and the flowery wallpaper had peeled in places to reveal a layer of blood-red paint beneath…like torn cuticles. The stench of cigarettes and mildew permeated the air. “How long are we staying here again?” she asked, flinching as the door squealed shut. 

The “showing” excerpt gives more of an idea about how the room looks, and how the protagonist perceives it. However, something briefer may be more suited for writers who are not looking to break the momentum in their story. (I.e. if the character was CHASED into this room and doesn’t have time to take in the details.)

ii. Study Movies and TV Shows: Think like a Storyteller, Not Just a Writer

Movies and TV shows quite literally HAVE TO "show, and not tell." This is because there is often no inner monologue or narrator telling the viewers what's happening. As a filmmaker, you need to use your limited time wisely, and make sure that the audience is engaged.

Think about how boring it would be if a movie consisted solely of a character monologuing about what they think and feel, rather than having the actor ACT what they feel.

(Tangent, but there’s also been controversy that this exposition/“telling” mindset in current screenwriting marks a downfall of media literacy. Examples include the new Percy Jackson and Avatar: The Last Airbender remakes that have been criticized for info-dumping dialogue instead of “showing.”)

If you find it easy to envision things in your head, imagine how your scene would look in a movie. What is the lighting like? What are the subtle expressions flitting across the actors' faces, letting you know just how they're feeling? Is there any droning background noise that sets the tone-- like traffic outside, rain, or an air conditioner?

How do the actors convey things that can't be experienced through a screen, like smell and taste?

Write exactly what you see in your mind's eye, instead of explaining it with a degree of separation to your readers.

iii. Listen to Music

I find that because music evokes emotion, it helps you write with more passion—feelings instead of facts! It’s also slightly distracting, so if you’re writing while caught up in the music, it might free you from the rigid boundaries you’ve put in place for yourself.

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental writing playlists!

iv. Practice, Practice, Practice! And Take Inspiration from Others!

“Show Don’t Tell” is the core of an immersive scene, and requires tons of writing skills cultivated through repeated exposure. Like I said before, more experienced writers instinctively switch between showing and telling as they write— but it’s a muscle that needs to be constantly exercised!

If I haven’t written in a while and need to get back into the flow of things, I take a look at a writing prompt, and try cultivating a scene that is as immersive as possible! Working on your “Show, Don’t Tell” skills by practicing writing short, fun one-shots can be much less restrictive than a lengthier work.

In addition, get some inspiration and study from reading the works of others, whether it be a fanfiction or published novel!

If you need some extra help, feel free to check out my Master List of Writing Tips and Advice, which features links to all of my best posts, each of them categorized !

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[norrussell]

Lipstick Stamps | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: none, just pure fluff

“Ready soon, love?” Lando peeked his head in your shared bedroom.

You glanced up from your vanity table and smiled at him. “Almost there, I just need a few more minutes. Could you help me zip up my dress, though?”

You turned around, the ocean blue fabric flowing against your skin as Lando made his way towards you. His strong hands gently pulled the zipper up, the sound echoing through the room.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “You look stunning, as always.” and kissed the back of your neck.

You blushed at his words and turned to face him. “Thank you. I just need to apply my lipstick and then we can get going.”

Lando watched in awe as you carefully applied the ruby red lipstick, a color that went along with your dress perfectly. His heart swelled with pride, knowing he was the luckiest man alive to have you by his side. As you capped the lipstick and set it down, you caught his soft gaze in the mirror that made your heart flutter.

“Shall we?” Lando offered his arm to you with a charming smile.

“Wait, I need to blot the excess off first,”

“Want me to get you a tissue?” he asked, his hand already reaching for the box.

“No, come here,” you replied, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. Lando’s eyes slightly widened in surprise when you leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to his right cheek, leaving a perfect imprint of red. He stilled for a moment, his heart pounding as he savored the sweet touch of your lips on his skin.

You pulled back, looked into his eyes and leaned back in to do the same to his left cheek. He closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh, feeling a rush of love for you surge through his veins. But you weren’t done yet. You planted a kiss on his temple, making your way to his forehead and stamping it all over with quick little kisses, each one a promise of love and affection.

Your lips descended to the right side of his face and peppered all over, until there was no spot left unkissed. Lando burst into giggles, his face growing even more pink than your blush, and squirmed between your hands, making it a bit hard to continue your rain of kisses on him.

But you persisted, marking his chin, his jaw, and finally finished with a boop on his nose, your laughter mingling with his until you both were breathless from the joy of the moment. You let go of his face and took a step back to admire your work and the beautiful man standing before you covered in your lipstick kisses, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with adoration.

Lando couldn't help but break into a wide grin, his heart bursting with love for you. He was completely captivated by your playful affection and the way you showered him with kisses, each one a testament to the deep connection you shared.

"There,” you said, snaking your arms around his neck, satisfied. “Now we can go.”

“You forgot the most important one,” before you could react, he wrapped his arms around your waist and captured your lips in a savoring kiss that spoke volumes. You melted into each other’s embrace, forgetting about the world and everything else until only the two of you existed.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your hearts beating as one. Lando rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips. “Now we can go,” he whispered, his voice filled with warmth. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“And you love it,” you teased, leaning into his touch. “Now, let’s not keep our dinner reservation waiting.”

Hand in hand, you both made your way out of the bedroom and into the night, where the stars above seemed to twinkle just a little bit brighter as if they were celebrating the love that radiated between you and Lando.