#this does not begin to scratch the surface

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[talk of real-life and in-narrative anti-foster/adopted child sentiments, violent ableism, and child abuse/neglect/homicide cw, as well as mentions of racism.]

i think probably the biggest reason ivan's narrative makes me so goddamn angry is that not only was it hateful toward foster/adopted kids and disabled ND kids; it tries to take the intersection of those two, which gets children neglected, violently abused, and Straight Up Fucking Murdered at sky-high rates even compared to NT foster/adopted kids, and spin it as privilege. a novelty adoption by an explicitly abusive parent, no less.

and to make it even worse, they repeatedly and explicitly try to use his body type to go 'well i mean technically he's a kid but he LOOKS like an adult because he's Big and Threatening, so we're just gonna ignore that and judge him by adult standards.' which, for one thing, hi that is an extremely racist idea to perpetuate, even when you try to trojan horse it by applying it to white kid characters. fuck outta here with that. but it's also vile because 'big scary brutish violent neurodivergent boy who can't be meaningfully controlled through anything but more violence' is--surprise!--a piece of rhetoric that results in violence toward neurodivergent kids, autistic ones in particular. guess the fuck what ivan is coded as. 🙃

like. i cannot overstate that kids like ivan are at enormously high risk for severe abuse and outright murder. they do not get privilege handed to them on a silver platter, and they certainly don't get to lord it over the '''real''' children in the family. and it's fucking sinister that the authors try to make you sympathize and side with the '''real''' child in this scenario, who is constantly spouting off exactly the ideas that get foster/adopted kids killed, by making him the Good Nice One and ivan the Evil Mean One, and contriving a situation where there's on any level a power imbalance in ivan's favor.

fuck these books, man. how are these writers' arms even long enough to punch down that far.

[jmrothwell]

...

[lucilleslore]

i need to hear ur thoughts on touch starved coryo omg

i have way too much fun doing these <3

✮⋆˙

➸ okay coryo isn’t the type of touch starved where they internally start freaking out and get embarrassed with physical touch but more so he just becomes absolutely obsessed with it and won’t stop thinking about how much he misses your hands on him and then will literally do anything to get you to touch him!!

➸ i could really see him at the beginning like faking illness or injuries just to have you fussing all over him. he’s that DRAMATIC and that PROUD he won’t just ask you for affection.

➸ once coryo admits to himself how much he’s come to crave your touch he becomes really into pda which honestly surprises you. it’s never anything extreme - he does have an image to keep up - but he likes to keep a hand on you at all times. loves to hold you by the back of your neck as he speaks to you. loves it when you entwine your fingers with his. especially loves when you try and push some of his hair back.

➸ could see him liking being little spoon i’m sorry -

➸ used to always pin your hands down when he was fucking you but now literally goes feral if you so much as scratch his back. eats you out just so he can feel your nails scrape over his scalp. his pretty eyes literally flutter closed at the sensation and you have to pretend you can’t see him grinding into the mattress.

➸ becomes super possessive over who you touch/who touches you. 100% gives you the silent treatment when you have no clue why he’s angry like why don’t you realise you are HIS?? only he should get to touch you. then proceeds to blow up and bend you over the nearest surface.

➸ coryo can be cruel and whenever you get a bit needy he’d love to dole out punishments of sorts where he ties your hands back and forbids you to touch him. he loves the way you pout your lips and the grumpy little whines you let out but let’s face it once he’s about to cum he unbinds you and physically shudders when your fingers slip into his hair.

➸ omg but imagine peacekeeper!coryo seeking out the barracks bunny and you think he just wants to fuck you but he just lies himself down in your arms because he’s so stressed ( being a villain is hard ) and lonely and missing his family - I CAN’T - and you’d sing him songs from the district and tickle his back until he sleeps. would probably threaten you in the morning though not to tell anyone.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem Headcanons

Meet your (6) monster boyfriends!

Since the story will take a while to unfold, I decided to speed things up and properly introduce you to the characters. A little time skip to Reader becoming an onmyōji herself and renewing the bonds with the yokai men, this time at their request. They cannot bear the thought of separating from their darling and since she has reneged her life as a regular human being, someone has to keep her company. And so the days are spent exorcising evil spirits both in modern and feudal Japan, with a pack of demons following close behind.

[Main story] [Character Guide]

Content: female reader, monster smut, NSFW, obsessive behavior, reader is a monster hoe again but feigns mild reluctance

Kiritsubo

Kiritsubo is your very first yokai encounter and he almost immediately falls for you. He's always been at the receiving end of his master's wrath for not being able to use his powers, so much that even after Nakamaro’s ‘death’ he couldn’t sleep without being plagued by horrid nightmares. His back is covered in thick scars from the frequent punishments. You first begun to suspect his background when you jumped in to protect him from an incoming blow and he froze in terror, unable to look up and awaiting the anticipated discipline.

Needles to say that when he learns you're not like the previous onmyōji he becomes extremely clingy and needy. He can only rest if you're next to him and will often hug you for reassurance. You've shared a bed before there was any hint of romance, simply because he found your presence so soothing. That's not to say he relies on you for everything. In fact, he unlocks his nearly unmatched abilities purely out of his desire to protect you. He’s found his purpose in serving you, someone who showed him kindness when he needed it most.

As you go out into the world, he begins to question his exact feelings for you. An example of his intense musings: he's asked you, perplexed, whether he can kiss you like the people he's seen on the street. He's spent his entire life being trained by Abe no Nakamaro, so he struggles to understand how relationships work. He will be utterly oblivious to other people flirting with him (it happens every now and then, he is a handsome demon after all), but simultaneously worry that everyone is out to have you. He’s already very salty about the other yokai joining your side and will frequently remind them he was the first to accept you.

When you complete your transition as an onmyōji, the priestess warns you that you may no longer partake in any kind of bonding with your fellow humans. Kiritsubo, seated next to you, responds almost instantly with eyes sparkling in excitement: "Well, that doesn’t extend to yokai, does it? I can still make you my wife.”

Kiritsubo is very clumsy when being intimate with you for the first time, but it doesn’t take long for him to become rather addicted to the feeling. You often have to scold him to behave and in return he’ll be pouting and fidgeting until you finally give in to his pleading gaze. He’s very vocal and touchy and will leave you covered in scratches from all the pulling. Towards the end he’s a drooling mess, mumbling about how much he loves you and begging you to never, ever leave him.

Murasaki

Murasaki is very cold and sarcastic on the surface, but you soon realize he is the most caring and responsible of the group, always looking out for everyone and trying to keep them out of trouble. In fewer words, he's almost like a tsundere mother hen (he won't hesitate to put you in a headlock if you mention it, though). He goes along with your wishes and will politely listen to anything you tell him, but to others he remains stoic and even rude. You’re sometimes reminded of the preferential treatment when witnessing his aggressive way of dealing with his suitors, shooing them away with the utmost disgusted scowl.

“Huh? Why can’t I be nicer to others? Bold of you to assume my tolerance is not, in fact, a limited resource spent entirely on dealing with you.”

He's been your guardian from the day you met him. He taught you how to use a sword and how to properly cast spells and seems to have a solution for all your troubles. When you introduced the yokai to the modern world you assumed he'd struggle to adapt, but he was extremely quick to learn and is, to this day, accumulating knowledge at a dizzying pace. One wouldn't be able to tell him apart from a regular city dweller. Murasaki is the concrete definition of a jack of all trades, excelling in whatever he sets his mind on.

Given his status and skills, the other yokai have always been rather jealous of him, including Kiritsubo. Ironically enough, by the time Murasaki accepted his infatuation towards you, you'd already gotten close to Kiritsubo. Which resulted in a lot of unexplained jealous bouts from a yokai too prideful to admit he loves you just as much. (You eventually get him to confess and reach the agreement to distribute the wealth among workers.)

He will occasionally be in a good enough mood to share with Kiritsubo, but it frequently results in a bizarre competition between them as you awkwardly squirm underneath, overstimulated. More often he prefers to pull you aside after you've done the deed with another yokai and aggressively fuck you as a way to assert his dominance. "Oh, was he that good? Then why are you moaning much louder now?" He'll demand with a firm grasp around your throat. Sadly his extreme competitiveness extends to this area as well.

Suma

Among the yokai, Suma is the most easygoing one despite his intimidating appearance. Most evenings he’ll have a drink in hand, eager to chitchat and ramble by the campfire, with his relaxed laughter resounding across the place. He is very loud and blunt and will often need to be reminded of the colossal power imbalance between him and regular humans and demons. Although after accidentally dislocating your shoulder (he was terribly amused by your joke and gave you a friendly pat), he’s gotten much better at adjusting the amount of force he uses, especially with you.

You’ve only witnessed him serious on two occasions: first one is a recurring event, when he’s training alone. When you’re together, he’s always in a merry mood, letting you try out moves and spells on him and frequently praising you even after failures. His whole demeanor changes when he’s by himself, swinging the spear with a calculated, focused gaze that remains unperturbed until the end of his session. The second case is when you get hurt. Now, he does encourage you to fight, and your confidence in battle is what caused him to fall head over heels in love with you. He will immediately put a stop to it, however, if the opponent ends up harming you. Seeing your lips curl in pain is enough to set him off and send him into a full blown rage.

Suma is destructive in all the ways you can think of. Given his massive size, as much as he’d love to, having his way with you is not something that can happen spontaneously. Borrowing his powers can of course help your frail body to not immediately tear apart, but depending on how much self control he has (or lack of), you might end up needing urgent healing from Sakaki. Suma will be extremely apologetic for nearly fucking you to death, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. A more common approach is riding his hand, as one or two fingers are enough to make you dizzy. He’ll be satisfied just hearing your needy whimpers. He also adores watching you whenever you give him handjobs as your little, delicate hands struggle to hold onto him. You’re insignificant compared to him and yet you persevere, feisty and horny. His precious, tiny warrior.

Yuugiri

Yuugiri is by nature a manipulative, masterful liar, so it comes as no surprise that you had a hard time trusting him in the beginning. His habit of teasing you certainly didn’t help, as you could never tell whether he’s serious about something or not. Perhaps the greatest irony is that even when he tries to be honest, it comes out crooked. Such is the fate of a deceiving demon, although most people are only familiar with fox spirits. On his end, he loves that you’re so transparent and obvious, even occasionally naive. And so it took a lot of awkward pleading to convince you to renew a binding contract with him, given everyone was suspecting him of ulterior motives.

For Yuugiri, being part of such contract is the most vulnerable offering he could've given you as proof of his love. As your souls become connected, you can perceive his feelings in ways otherwise impossible to achieve. He willingly allowed you to be able to read his heart, and thankfully it worked. It was his last, desperate resort to get you to understand his affections. Do you finally see the earnest adoration he harbors for you?

He is the best choice if you're looking for a best friend to gossip with. He enjoys listening to your stories and pays great attention to every detail. He's also frighteningly vengeful, especially when it involves you. So if you ever complain about someone to him, know that he will remember it forever and will make sure to continuously get back at the offender in the worst possible ways and will only stop when you tell him to.

Now listen, I’m about to be quite crass but it is what it is: as a serpent demon he has a long, forked tongue and let’s just say everyone in the household can tell if he’s eating you out because it will be loud. It will be followed by the walk of shame, when you eventually have to come out of the room red-faced and sore-legged, with Yuugiri donning a devilish grin for the rest of the day. You always swear to keep it in next time, but within moments you’re tightly gripping onto his horns, mumbling his name in a feverish, drunken haze. Naturally, he can read you like an open book and this truth stands for more intimate matters as well. Leave it to Yuugiri to know what his darling likes best.

Sekiya

Sekiya has been fascinated with you from the moment you stepped into the ancient Tomb. To see the anxious, quiet Kiritsubo happily wag his tail after you and the stern, irritable Murasaki readily at your service…It was a sight most unfamiliar to him and he wondered how a mere human like you managed to whip them into this kind of submission. He refused to believe you’d be stronger than Abe no Nakamaro himself, yet after the battle - from which you emerged victorious - it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn’t fear or obedience coming from the two yokai companions. Just honest, unadulterated love. He felt his chest tighten with envy, all the resentment of being sealed in with an evil, hateful sorcerer finally erupting its way to the surface.

So when you offered him and Sakaki to join you (“What else is left to do among these ruins?”), he couldn’t agree fast enough. To think he, too, could be spoiled with the affections of someone like you. On the other hand, Sekiya is an insecure, nervous wreck of an overthinker and he felt like he couldn’t offer anything worthy in return. He’s a demon that casts barriers. Nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t have Murasaki’s genius, or Kiritsubo’s raw power, or Suma’s brute strength…What use could you possibly find in him? Hence the constant need for reassurance. He will need you to pull him out of his melancholy every now and then, just a small nudge from the savior he so worships.

It’s an extremely rare occurrence, but Sekiya can get cheeky if his ego is stroked properly. So, for example, he’ll take advantage of the fact you’re both alone in the modern world and show you the handy usage of his barriers: a crowded intersection overflowing with people, and yet no one can see him greedily thrusting into you right in the middle of everything. It’s the high of sprawling you out in public without actually being seen. It’s also one of the reasons you no longer take him furniture shopping. Last time you asked him to help you pick a new table from Ikea and were confused by his requirement of it being “high enough”. Before you could ask for further explanations, the immediate vicinity started twirling into a blur and his heavy arm bent you over the surface. “Let me demonstrate”, he purred in your ear. Sure, no one saw you dripping with his cum, nonetheless scanning the items with your clenched legs and deep crimson face was humiliating enough.

Sakaki

Despite his gift to heal and revive, Sakaki is a terribly miserable demon, often plagued by gloom and death. He is especially receptive to negative emotions, and given your souls are connected, he is the first to detect any change in your mood. (You had to learn to block out the persistent throb of jealousy that tugs at your heart whenever the yokai is particularly insecure.) He takes great pride in the fact that he can understand your sadness better than anyone. The second you feel down, he’ll be right behind you: “Worry not, we shall suffer together. Such is the fate of lovers.”

The first time he joined you back into the modern world, you’ve perhaps mistakenly introduced him to classic literature you assumed he’d like. He indeed became infatuated with authors like Poe, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Shelley, Hoffmann. For the first time in his long life, Sakaki felt understood, and you’re glad to have played a role in his new interest. Yet you can’t help the shivers running down your spine whenever you become the target of his overflowing, renewed inspiration. Grim, ghastly paintings, deplorably obsessive poems…You’ve unleashed an authentic Romantic poet whose only muse is you.

He’s a master of eerie awkwardness, more so now that he has access to modern entertainment. You were excited when he asked you out on a picnic date, only to discover you’ve been taken to a foggy graveyard. He enthusiastically explained his choice: you can scout burial plots in case one of you dies (he’ll die with you, no worries), it is a stunning reminder that his love for you is eternal, and you might even find potential names if you ever want children. Another time, when you rented a boat during a sunny day at the lake, he cheerfully wondered how you’d look if you were to drown (still as beautiful as ever, he’s certain). Ah, but he does not dwell on dark things only. He recently took you to see the famous Cirque du Soleil and he was equally mesmerized by all the light and colors. It was Corteo: the story of a funeral cortège for a clown.

Sakaki does not like sharing and prefers to hang out with you alone, without the other demons. In fact, he’ll spend the day holed up in his room, writing or painting, or go out on lone walks if he knows you’re messing around with someone. He’d rather not hear anything that would cause him turmoil. The only exception is Sekiya, as they spent decades in isolation together within the sealed Tomb, and they both share a similar lack of confidence. In this case he won’t mind laying you on him and offering the above position to his friend, or casually joining your fun if he sees you together with Sekiya.

[headspace-hotel]

One of the things that struck me about Robin Wall Kimmerer's perspective when I was reading Braiding Sweetgrass was the way the ethical obligation to life she discussed contrasted with the colonizer's culture.

It is increasingly popular to find it inherently unethical and exploitative to kill animals for food or to farm them for animal products, and instead eat and wear "plant-based" things. This is an impulse toward ethical treatment of non-human living things.

But this way of seeing animals as "lives" and behaving accordingly, depends on seeing plants as non-lives. Asking whether we have ethical obligations toward plants is so absurd, it's dismissed as trolling.

I've known many people who farmed or hunted animals who had a great reverence for their lives. Some people would think that this is not genuine and that it is never morally acceptable to take a life for your own use.

Kimmerer discusses Indigenous use of animals. But when a tree needs to be cut down or a plant uprooted, there is the same vivid awareness that a life is being taken, that the plant's life is A Life.

Now I'm troubled by the dismissal of plants as providing total freedom from guilt and moral responsibility among many people and organizations who see animal life as deeply sacred. Plant based products are cruelty-free alternatives to animal products and plant-based diets mean nothing had to die for your meal.

I understand not wanting to support cruel industries or being uncomfortable with eating animals, but the more I learn about plants, the less I believe that all animals have something all plants lack, that means we have moral obligations toward animals and not toward plants.

Plants are incredibly unlike us, but they respond to their environments, they communicate with other plants, and they engage in behaviors. Objection to potential plant intelligence and sentience (ability to feel) is more cultural than scientific; we are just only beginning to scratch the surface of the inner world of plants. What if we have to respect plants as life? What does respect mean then, if we have to explore the idea that it doesn't necessarily contradict taking life?

[lustfulslxt]

Ruin Me - Chris Sturniolo

summary : chris accidentally sends y/n a text meant for nate, ultimately fessing his desire for her. y/n takes action into her own hands.

warnings : swearing, smut, slight daddy kink

a/n : based off of these texts

—

The silence feels incredibly loud as she stares down at her phone with her jaw dropped. She can’t even count how many times she’s reread the last few messages she’s received from Chris, who’s only just a story below her.

She has been spending the past few nights over at the triplets’ house, which is a common occurrence, seeing as her and Chris are best friends. She never once thought her presence was anything of a burden for any of them. Her mind immediately ran with the worst with Chris’ first few messages.

However, as she continuously reads the last couple over and over, she can feel a foreign feeling building inside her. A feeling she’s never felt for Chris until now, or more so one that she’s kept beneath the surface in favor of their friendship.

The longer she takes to respond, the more anxious she makes herself. She’s conflicted. Does she go downstairs? Does she text him back? Does she set boundaries?

Her decision is made when she finds herself subconsciously making her way down the stairs leading to his room, fully ready to give in to temptation.

As she stands outside his door, her heart and mind are racing. Is she really doing this? Before she can talk herself out of it, her fist is knocking on the wooden door.

On the other side, Chris is frozen looking at his phone. Read 10:56 PM. It’s currently 11:10 PM. His nerves are bubbling and anxiety is brewing in his stomach. He can’t help but feel like he ruined everything.

As soon as he hears knocking on his door, his face drains of color. He can only assume it’s Y/N. With slight hesitation, he makes his way over and opens the door.

“Hi.” She whispers with a small smile.

“Hi.” He breathes, then continues, “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or anything along those lines. We can just forget I ever said anything.”

“Can I come in?” She asks, ignoring his statements.

He opens his mouth, only is at a loss for words, and opts for opening the door wider for entry. She strolls in, stopping in the middle of the room, and turns back to face him. He slowly shuts the door, his heart rapidly pounding in his chest, unsure of which direction their conversation will go.

“So-“ He begins, only to pause because he’s waiting on her to say something.

“Do you talk about me often?” She asks.

He stammers, “W-what?”

“You said you meant to send that to Nate.” She reminds him, “Do you do that often?”

His cheeks grow hot as he scratches the back of his head. “Um, kind of. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Can I see?” She asks him, eyebrows raising.

His eyes widen, his lips curving inwards. “I-I’d rather you not.”

All she does is nod, standing there in silence.

“I’m sorry I made things awkward.” He groans, tossing his head back at his own stupidity.

She walks over to his bed and sits on it, kicking her feet. He only watches her, attempting to get a feel for what she’s thinking. Usually, he can read her through and through, but he’s much too nervous right now to even comprehend anything other than the fact that he’s screwed things up.

“Boy, stop standing there and come sit down.” She rolls her eyes.

He quickly shuffles over to the bed, sitting next to her, but makes sure to leave at least a foot gap between them. She glances at the space and rolls her eyes once more, sliding over until their bodies are aligned side by side.

“Can you please say something?” Chris asks, eyes wide. “I’m like freaking out over here and you’re not saying a single word. Let me know what’s up.”

“I wanna see what you say about me.” She repeats, nodding towards his phone beside them. “Either that, or the pictures that I know you have.”

“Y/N, come on!” He whines.

“Okay, fine.” She shrugs, standing up to leave.

He quickly wraps his hand around her wrist, tugging her back to the bed. As soon as she’s seated, his fingers are working on his phone, reluctantly pulling up what she wants to see.

He gives her a nervous glance, only receiving a pointed look from her. Taking a deep breath, he slowly gives the phone to her, which she eagerly takes.

As she scrolls through his camera roll, her mouth slowly falls open. At this point, Chris is pacing in front of her, his breath seemingly caught in his throat.

His phone is completely loaded with numerous pictures of her. Some are just selfies of them together, her alone. Others are random off guards that one would take of their best friend. Then, there are the not so normal ones.

Y/N looks up at Chris, causing him to halt his movement under her stare. He turns to her with a sheepish look on his face, and she can’t help but smirk a bit.

“Out with it.” He rolls his eyes, laying his hand out as if indicating for her to speak her mind.

“You’re a little freak.” She giggles.

He chokes on his saliva, as her response was unexpected. “Okay, can we move past this now?”

“No.”

“No?” He repeats, his face falling.

She shakes her head with a hum, “I could’ve swore you said you want me convulsing under you?”

She goes to pull her phone out to show him the messages when he quickly steps forward, stopping her from pulling up the facts to prove her statement. His hands are holding hers in place, their eyes locking.

It feels as if everything around them stopped, like they’re the only two things that exist. Their breaths become uneven due to their close proximity. Their heartbeats racing to become one. In this moment, nothing else matters.

Y/N swiftly tosses her phone aside and grabs a fistful of his shirt, yanking him down onto her. Their lips meet for the first time ever, finally crossing that forbidden threshold.

Relief floods through Chris, soon being replaced by excitement and desire. He’s been longing for this moment for what seems like forever. The feeling is surreal, he can’t help but put everything into their kiss. Y/N feels almost content, like this is that one thing she’s been missing in life.

Their kiss soon escalates, growing hot and needy, the two of them desperate for one another. Chris places one of his hands on her neck, softly gripping it, his other hand setting on the bed beside her head. Y/N runs her hands up his torso, wrapping them around his neck and moving them into his hair.

Chris quickly breaks away, “I want this, you, more than anything, but I don’t want to ruin anything between us.”

Y/N’s face flushes a rosy color as she stares up at him. Her hand meets his cheek, softly caressing it as she admires his beauty. She leans into him, planting multiple soft open mouthed kisses on his lips. She places one more, deep and passionate, savoring the taste of him on her tongue, and pulls away, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.

“Ruin me.”

Those two simple words went straight through Chris, traveling all the way down to his dick. It begins throbbing with need, hardening beneath his pants. He stares into her eyes for another second before slamming his mouth on hers, yearning for all of her, and gladly accepting everything she’s offering.

His grip around her neck tightens, pulling her impossibly closer as their kiss grows hungry. Their tongues meet in a wet and sloppy frenzy, tangling together in an intricate way. Heavy breathing fills the air, along with the smacking of their lips.

Desperate for more, Y/N bucks her hips up into his, the feeling of his erection digging into her core, eliciting a moan from her mouth. Chris’ eyes damn near roll to the back of his head from the sound she makes, and he’s determined to hear more of it.

His mouth pulls away from hers, strings of saliva keeping them connected. He begins kissing down her jaw, his tongue gliding between his lips. He travels lower and nips at her neck, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake. He breathes her in, becoming intoxicated by her sweet scent. The smell of her peach shampoo and her vanilla body wash consume his senses, causing his mouth to water. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, sucking and biting on it, bruising it by the time he pulls away.

Y/N is left breathless beneath him, her mind foggy with lust. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest and she’s sure he can feel it too. Her hands stay tangled in his hair, holding him flush against her as he works her neck. Her skin is burning with desire and she’s never been so pleased with her impulsive decisions the way that she is right now.

Chris’ hands slip under her shirt, running up her abdomen. She feels like she’s on fire beneath his touch. His hands make their way over her bra, harshly squeezing her breasts, pulling another moan from her throat. He’s practically getting drunk off of her sounds, soaking in every little whimper and whine that falls from her lips.

He pulls back from her, swiftly removing his shirt, his chain dangling around his neck. Y/N sits up to remove hers, with his eager assistance. His hands go behind her back, unbuckling her bra, letting her shake it off her arms. He quickly flips her over so she’s bent over the side of bed.

Leaning over her, his erection presses into the back of her thigh, causing her to moan in anticipation. He moves her hair to the side and presses his lips against the back of her neck, causing goosebumps to form on her skin. She’s barely holding it together with the way his entire being consumes her. She’s relishing in the way his mouth feels on her, the way his hands caress her, the way his needy cock is pressed so hard into her, desperate to be buried inside her sopping core.

Chris continues working down her back, his tongue gliding over her smooth skin, nibbling on it every which way as he goes lower and lower. His fingers hook into the waistband of her bottoms, swiftly pulling them down, along with her panties. He tugs them further, until he’s able to pull them completely off and discard them to the side.

He pauses, taking in the way her glistening pussy peaks from between her thighs. Her plump ass looks so squeezable and he just wants to lose himself in her. His hands engulf her cheeks, kneading with the perfect amount of pressure, slowly pulling them apart as he massages them in circles. He can see her lips opening, exposing her entrance, as he does so, causing him to groan in satisfaction.

“Can’t wait to feel you around me.” He hums, spreading her legs apart to see more of her.

She only lets out a whine as the cool air meets her hot center. Her hands grip the sheets beneath her as her pussy clenches around nothing. Chris admires her desperation from behind, a proud smirk pulling to his lips.

He leans down and sinks his teeth into the plush skin of her ass, eliciting a pleased moan from her. His tongue slides between his teeth, soothing the sharp pain. Peppering wet kisses along the fat, he brings his hand to her inner thigh, slowly trailing upwards towards her core.

“D-don’t tease.” Y/N whines, pushing herself back into him.

“Shh, gonna make you feel so good.” He mumbles against her ass.

He latches his mouth on the plump tissue, sucking down and biting it, leaving purple and red bruises. His fingers slither up against her pussy, sliding along her folds, pulling another lewd moan from her.

He gathers her juices with every swipe of his fingers, leaving her legs damn near trembling. She’s never needed something like the way she’s needing him, tears almost pricking in her eyes from her desperation. Finally, he presses two fingers into her entrance, a long moan falling from her lips from the way he fills her.

“So fucking wet for me.” He groans, bringing his face closer to her heat.

His tongue flicks over her outer folds, her arousal coating his tongue, causing him to hum at the delightful taste. Pulling his fingers out, he replacing them with his tongue. Continuous moans leave Y/N’s mouth as she indulges in the way he devours her.

His hands grip her ass, spreading it as he dives in deeper. His tongue slides down to her clit, lathering it with his saliva. His nose presses against her entrance and he can’t help but breathe in her natural scent, his cock throbbing from pleasant smell.

“F-fuck, so good.” She cries out, pressing her face into the mattress.

Licking all of her juices up, he sucks her folds before pulling back, leaving her breathless, whiny, and dissatisfied.

“Can’t wait any longer, baby.” He breathes, “Need to feel your sweet little pussy squeezing my cock.”

He pulls at the drawstring of his sweats, loosening them enough to pull them and his boxers down. His dick springs out, bouncing up against his abdomen. He hisses from the cool air, eager to feel the wet warmth her pussy provides. He grabs the base of his member, pumping it a few times, before swiping it in her folds to lubricate it, and aligning it with her entrance.

He slowly sinks into her, moans emitting from both of their mouths. She squeezes her eyes shut from the slight pain as he bottoms out, filling her up entirely. His hands tightly grip her hips, throwing his head back from the sensation her soft walls provide.

“So tight.” He grunts, slowly pumping in and out of her. “God, I knew you’d feel good, but this is unreal.”

Y/N moans from the feeling of him fucking into her, along with his naughty words. She can’t help but clench around him, pushing back into him further.

Chris picks up the pace, his pelvis slamming into her ass as he buries himself in her. The sound of their skin slapping fills the room, their pants and moans adding onto it.

His hand travels up her back, wrapping around her hair, yanking her head back. He uses it as leverage to speed up his thrusts, digging deeper into her core. His tip repeatedly kisses her cervix, pulling loud pornographic moans from her mouth.

Her face contorts in pleasure, her body ridden with euphoria as he fucks into her so good. He leans over her, his bare chest firmly pressed against her back. His hand wraps around her chin, pulling her head back as he looks down at her, admiring how fucked out she looks. Drool falls from her mouth, her eyes rolling back as he digs deep.

“Mmm. You love being fucked like this, don’t you?” He groans into her ear.

She cries out in broken moans with every thrust, “Y-yes, yes. You feel so good, so so good daddy.”

His pace falters at the name that fell from her lips, taken aback by her sudden use of it. It ignites something animalistic in him, causing him to thrust deeper and harder. He lets her head fall back into the mattress, pressing both of his hands into her back as he drills into her.

Tears fall from her eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, she could practically feel him in her stomach. Their bodies glisten with perspiration, their skin sticking together everything they connect.

“Fuck, so good. This pussy was made for me, no?” He grunts as he continues pounding into her.

Y/N’s mind is hazy with bliss, unable to form a single word in response to his question, only giving him loud moans that fuel his ego and bring him closer to his release.

“I asked you-” He starts, rough strokes in between his words. “-a question.”

“Nghh. Y-you, just for you.” She forces out through her moans.

“Oh, I know it, baby. All for me.” He moans, “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

The building knot in her stomach tightens before snapping, bringing on her orgasm. Her legs tremble beneath him as she clenches around him, her juices pouring out of her and coating his dick, producing a squelching sound as he pumps in and out of her.

“Such a dirty girl.” He pants.

Hips sputter and his pace grows sloppy and erratic, his release sneaking up on him. His hands grip her ass, squeezing it as he moves it up and down against him. His stomach tightens, his thighs slightly shaking as his hot cum spurts out, painting her inner walls. Both of them moaning from the feelings, he stills his movements after a few more pumps.

He slowly pulls out, wincing from the feelings and collapses right next to her. She turns her head to look at him, her face flushed red and her damp hair sticking to her forehead.

“Still look as good as ever.” He smiles at her, pulling her hair from her face.

“You owe me $50.” She breathes, matching his smile.

He stares at her in shock, “Wait, what?!”

“Plan B, dummy.” She giggles.

“Hm. Now it’s dummy, two minutes ago it was daddy.” He teases.

—

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @mattsfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・792 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・felix x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, lots of kissing (again), a lil suggestive towards the end, inspired by his pictures from paris, which i am just. SOOOOOO normal about

“Careful, my love,” Felix murmurs, his huff of laughter tickling the side of your neck when he loops a wary arm around your waist. You first feel your weight lifting off the metal railing of the double-decker bus, then the taut warmth of your boyfriend’s chest as you’re pulled against it.

When you lift your eyes to look at Felix, you have to squint against the sun—or maybe it’s him that’s making it so hard to see, wisps of blonde hair framing his face like freshly spun gold, flawless features illuminated so gloriously that he looks like an exhibit in the Louvre come alive.

“What was that for?” You ask with a furrowed brow, and Felix doesn’t reply right away, suddenly captivated by your newfound proximity.

His gaze darts to your lips; the rest of him follows. You perceive a delicate finger under your chin, a deliberate angle of his head, a tensing of his hand where it slides over your hip. And then he’s kissing you, so sweetly that you’re reminded of whipped cream, his mouth melting your pout to a defenseless smile. 

“You looked like—you were gonna—drop your phone.” These words are woven between three last pecks, the first placed to your lips, the second and third to each of your cheeks. Then Felix pulls away, only far enough for you to spot the teasing smile on his face. “Or fall off the bus. Neither outcome would’ve been ideal.”

“Did I really?” You giggle. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Yes. Or, I think so. I can’t remember anymore.” The tip of his nose bumps against yours lightly, affectionately, and you think your knees would’ve given at his next words if you weren’t literally wrapped in his arms. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

As you lift a hand to trace the contours of his jaw, to bring your fingers around the curve of his nape, you’re beginning to think they had a point, dubbing Paris the City of Love. You swear that his eyes have never been browner; that his freckles have never been so numerous; that you’ve never been as utterly and hopelessly beguiled with Lee Felix as you are right here, right now.

An idea surfaces—suddenly, surely. “Let me take pictures of you.”

A surprised chuckle rises to his throat. “Why?”

“Just trust me, baby.” And he does, with everything in him.

You untangle yourself from his embrace and settle into a seat on the other side of the bus. The next minutes are spent with him adopting various poses and postures before your lens, your fingers toying with the different lighting and focus settings as you attempt to capture him within the world of your screen—ironic, considering he’s a world in himself. The only one that matters; the only one that ever will.

When you’re finally finished, Felix is already motioning for you to return to his side, not wanting you out of his reach for a second longer than you absolutely need to be. You settle in Felix’s lap once you’re close enough—your legs hanging off the side of his seat, your temple leaning against his forehead—and the way his arms circle so readily and securely around your stomach feels like a cushioned fall.

“Tell me now?” He hums, planting a soft kiss to your cheek.

You heartbeat is in your ears as you start to flip through your camera roll. The pictures are perfect. He’s perfect. The princely man in the foreground of each puts even the stunning Parisian weather to shame.

“I wanted you to see yourself the way I do,” you whisper. “And only then would you really understand the meaning of that word, in its purest and brightest form.”

Felix feels his eyes widen; his breath catch in his throat. You hear the scratch of his interrupted inhale, and you're almost nervous when you turn to meet his eyes, despite your love feeling like it’s spanned lifetimes by now. And you know by his darkened gaze and flushed cheeks that he knows just which word you’re referring to.

Then, Felix closes the distance between the two of you again, but this kiss is completely devoid of the last one’s gentleness, open-mouthed, positively scalding, and intensely loving. Your lips sting a bit where his crash; your scalp tingles where he rakes a hand through your hair; your back shivers where the vibrations of his voice travel, his words nearly growled against your mouth.

“I love you,” he breathes.

Your palm comes to rest upon his chest, and the way his every heartbeat moulds to your touch is nothing short of classical.

“I love you more, beautiful.”

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 (open): @astraystayyh @like-a-diamondinthesky @fire-08

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[moonstruckme]

spencer reid holding hands 4 the first time : ( 've been rewatching cm and i miss my boy sm : (( you're most recent peter fic is so sweet btw im absolutely obssessed!!!!! love you bunches

Thank you sweetheart <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 665 words

You and Spencer have had a very…tentative beginning to your relationship. Normally, when you think of a first date, you’re worried about how much the other person expects. (Will they want to kiss you? Will they want more? What if you don’t want to? How do you say no without making it awkward?) With Spencer, there’s been none of that. You’re on date three, and he’s kept completely to himself the entire time. When you met up earlier in the week he’d let a hand hover near your elbow when you nearly tripped over a curb, but you’d barely felt the whisper of his skin against yours before he was putting it back in his pocket, the danger having passed. 

You’ve always thought that you’d prefer to take things slow, and Spencer seems that way too, but now you’re itching for something more. Just something tangible to show that you like him, that he likes you too, that you’re not just going on these dates for no reason at all. 

So, bold thing that you are, you let your hand hang in the empty space between you as you walk. An offering. 

The first time Spencer’s knuckles brush across yours, knobby and skimming, he almost stops talking. He’s been saying something about Alexander Pope and Eliza Haywood (and you’re doing your best to follow along, honest), but he falters mid-sentence, his hand stuttering in its movement. 

“And, uh, actually,” Spencer goes on, getting his verbal feet back under him, “it was only in the late twentieth century that her works started surfacing in academia…” 

You nod along but don’t move your hand, letting Spencer’s graze past it again. This time, you lean into the touch, pushing your knuckles into his almost imperceptibly. And this time, Spencer’s hand doesn’t continue along its trajectory. He lets it rest alongside yours, your skin brushing up against each other’s with the movement of your walking. After a few seconds, his pinkie teases yours. 

You bite back a smile, crooking your pinkie so it hooks around his. Spencer moves his hand, and for a second your heart drops, but he’s only bringing it to the inside of yours, interlacing your fingers loosely. 

“Is this okay with you?” he asks, careful and to-the-point. 

“Yeah.” You look up at him sheepishly, wriggling your fingers in his to get them closer. “I’ve been wanting to do this.” 

“Me too,” Spencer says quietly. Your heart balloons until you’re sure it’s about to float off and take you with it. 

His palm is rougher than you’d expected. Spencer comes off as such an academic, sometimes you can forget that he’s in the literal FBI. He handles guns and had to go through training, and you can feel it in the light scratch of his calluses against your palm. Slender fingers stretch over your knuckles, deft and capable. His touch sends a pleasant tingling all the way up from your hand into your buzzing brain. 

“Sorry,” you say softly. 

Spencer looks confused. His thumb runs the length of yours, a thoughtless movement or a soothing touch, it doesn’t matter. If he does it again, you’ll puddle down onto the pavement for sure. 

“What are you sorry for?” he asks. 

“I sort of interrupted you.” 

A little smile teases the dimple in his cheek. “I don’t mind.” 

You give his hand a gentle tug, feeling brazen. It cracks something open in him, and his smile comes out for real, the familiarity between you suddenly so natural. 

“Tell me about Eliza Haywood,” you urge. “Did Pope just hate her because she was a woman?” 

“That was definitely a big part of it,” Spencer allows, and his voice seems to go back into the conversation while his face stays somewhere else. He’s still wearing that smile, eyes squinted just slightly like he’s having some trouble figuring you out and it might be his new favorite game. “But also it had a lot to do with the perception of novels…”

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 13]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Words: 5.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The base of your skull pounds as you try to keep focus on the things going on around you. It is almost impossible, as you just want to close your eyes and block out everything. 

You had woken up with a stiffness in your neck and shoulders that had quickly spiraled into the beginnings of a migraine. You hadn't had one since you were pregnant and now that you had a toddler, spending the day in bed and hiding under covers was not an option.

The gods seem to have smiled down on you, though. It is Saturday, which means it is Daddy Daughter Date Day and Matt is more than happy to keep Minnie’s attention on him. You don't have to watch her like a hawk. You can just sit and wait until your ibuprofen kicks in. 

If it ever does. 

You know drinking water will probably help, so you shakily reach for your glass.

Beside you, your daughter is none the wiser to your distress. Last night, a new toy arrived in the mail, and she was insistent it must be brought to lunch so she could show her Daddy and play with him. It is a friendship bracelet making kit - the type that has beads of all different shapes and colors - and it is a hit. Minnie and Matt have been making each other bracelets as you wait for your food.

“Can you please find me another ‘O’?” the nearly perfect man across from you asks your sweet toddler. “Like in ‘Octopus’.”

“‘O’ for octopus!” Mouse quickly confirms. She sets down her string of multi-color shapes and pulls the little box of beads closer to her. She picks up the discs that have letters on them, proudly showing off her ability to identify them by stating what each letter is until she finds the one, she's looking for. Once it is found, it is carefully passed across the table. “‘O’ for octopus!”

You have not been paying attention to the letters Matt has been collecting and thus have no clue what he intends to spell, but you're guessing it won't matter much to your daughter. She's going to be thrilled either way. You have a hunch that the feeling is mutual with Matt - whatever Minnie gives him, he'll proudly wear. Right now, the bracelet in her hands is a mixture of pink hearts with purple and yellow plain beads. There isn't a method to the madness beyond that. 

Your table falls back into silence. Mouse is enthralled with her task of threading and Matt is equally quiet. You think he is aware of your headache, as he's been soft spoken since you met up and hasn't been trying to make your little one laugh and squeal with glee. You're incredibly thankful for that. 

You resist the urge to close your eyes and instead find a scratch on the table's surface to stare blankly at and wait for time to pass. Hands pass through your field of vision to collect different beads and you hear farther-daughter talking, but you don't process any of it. All you know is the pain creeping around your skull. You are aware of how your eyes sit in your head and it is a very weird, unsettling feeling that helps nothing. 

You pray this outing has enough stimulation for Minnie, so that when you go home, she'll go down for a nap easily and you can join her.

You don't know how long you sit there, spacing out while the world moves on without you, but eventually Linda drops your plates in front of you. You fall into autopilot, saying, “Thank you, Miss Linda” in chorus with Matt and Minnie. After a quick cooing over how sweet your little family is, the waitress leaves you be, and you turn your focus to your daughter's plate.

It's chicken strips and french fries today and you know she needs her ketchup and mustard. Before you can start to reach for the bottles at the end of the table, Matt is already taking them and addressing Mouse, “You like it with more mustard than ketchup, right?”

“More mustard!” She happily replies as she lays her napkin across her lap. 

You watch with slightly parted lips as he starts squeezing the condiments onto her plate. You aren't used to anyone taking over this responsibility and you don't know how to react - it is nice to have the help and to see he's learned so much about Minnie's habits, but your mind can't help but chastise you for letting him do this menial task. You know he's her father, but it feels like something you should be doing.

Of course, you are the only one having conflicting feelings. They are having a good time - Matt makes two piles of sauces and Minnie instantly starts swirling them together with her food, a big grin on her face. You try to offer a smile back, but you don't know how sincere it is. Your head hurts so much, and your anxiety is spiking.

You are shaken from your daze when Matt says your name. You look up to see his head tilted just slightly, the slightest frown on his face. Guilt courses through you.

“You sure you don't want any coffee? The caffeine should help with,” he motions to his head, and it just confirms for you that he is always hyper aware of everything, and that Minnie must be too. 

You need to get your act together. You can't just zone out because you don't feel well - you're a parent and you are out in public. You can't just dump all your responsibilities onto Matt because he is here now. 

You shake your head, even if it makes you dizzy, “No, I'll be okay.” 

The truth is the idea of coffee makes your stomach turn. You don't want anything that tastes too strongly, which is why you have opted for a Cobb salad for lunch. 

The man across from you gives you a doubtful look. To keep him from worrying over you, you stab a piece of tomato and eat it. It tastes like nothing and that is fine for you. This earns a frown, but the gods smile on you again and your daughter causes a distraction by starting to play with her food. 

Mouse picks up a chicken strip and begins to make it hop around the plate before dunking it into her now orange mixture. “Oh no, you're all messy now,” she says to herself, “I gotta clean you.” She then proceeds to lick the sauce away with exaggerated sounds. Matt makes a face of pure disgust. 

“Sweetie, what are you doing?”

“I'm a kitty!” is her proud response before repeating the process. 

You know this game well but it's the first time he has experienced it. He knows you allow her to play with her food as long as she's not messy and actually eats it, but you can tell he wants to ask her not to. You are open to him making suggestions and asking Minnie to do things, and he knows that, and you wonder what direction he will take. You can see the wheels turning in his head. 

“I thought you were a mouse,” is what he goes with. 

That stops Minnie dead in her tracks. She considers this statement, a pout forming, before bringing her chicken strip to her mouth and beginning to nibble at it - like a mouse with a piece of cheese.  

The rest of the meal is subdued. You manage to eat a third of your salad through sheer force of will - having an empty stomach will only make things worse - and Mouse only needs her face wiped a handful of times. It feels like the minutes crawl by before Linda is back at your table to take away plates and hand over the check.

Packing up is quick and easy. There are no loose beads on the table, so you just need to snap the case shut and store it into your bag, along with anything else that was brought out for Minnie’s needs. As you do this, Matt finishes off both bracelets by tying the ends together and once he is done, you stop what you're doing to watch the exchange.

He returns the bracelet Minnie made for him to her and she hugs it to her chest.

“Daddy, yous gotta put out your hand. I have something for you,” she says like it is any sort of surprise. 

But of course, Matt plays along. He does as he is told, holding out the hand not holding the bracelet he made, “You got something for me?” 

Very delicately, like it's going to break, Mouse places the bracelet into his palm. Only when she is fully sitting in her seat again does he begin to run his thumb over the beads, feeling what she made for him. His lips twitch up into a smile before he starts to bite his lip. You've learned this means he's trying to not get overly emotional, and you completely understand. 

Having Minnie’s love is the only thing keeping you going some days and you've cried multiple times when she's given you something she's made for you. 

“I love it,” he whispers, his voice breaking a tiny bit. “Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

You and Minnie watch as he slips the bracelet on, and it settles next to his watch. The bright colors stand out against his muted palette, but you doubt he cares about that. Your daughter absolutely beams when he holds up his wrist to show off his new piece of jewelry.

“You're welcome, Daddy! Do you have a present for me?” Mouse asks, jutting her hands out, palms up.

You can't help but huff in amusement, even if your headache is making you feel cold and detached. You know she isn't being greedy or rude, she's simply an eager toddler. You can't fault her for that. 

Oh, so carefully, Matt sets the bracelet into her waiting hands and once you finally realize what he wrote out on it, your heart clenches at the sweetness. The bracelet is mostly made up of lettered beads, with the words separated by different colored hearts. Minnie quickly brings it right up to her face to inspect it and instantly starts trying to figure out the mystery in front of her.

“D-A-D-D-Y,” she spells out loud, “L-O-V-E-S. Y.O.U.” Her little brow wrinkles up at the words and you wait to see if she needs help figuring them out. They aren't unknown to her, but it's usually a flip of a coin if she can connect the dots. The only word you are confident she recognizes is her name. 

She spells it again, then tries her best to sound it out, “Duh..Ahh duh duh…why. Duh-ah-du- Daddy! It says Daddy!”

You rub her back, silently trying to communicate how proud of her you are, “That's right, it says Daddy. Do you know the other words?” 

While she considers her answer, you look at Matt. 

He hasn't shaved in a few days. It emphasizes his good looks, and you can see the hints of red - and grey - in his grown-out scruff. His charming and sweet appearance is only enhanced by his heart - you didn't know someone could be so full of love. He radiates it when he's around Minnie and it's like he can't help but pour all of his affection into her and he can't believe how much of it is returned.

You wonder if you were put on Earth to give him Minnie - and you wouldn't mind if you were. It would give you some sort of purpose. 

“Mommy,” your precious angel says, thrusting the bracelet into your face, “you read it.”

You feel your face heat up - and throb - at the way Matt turns to you. Your insides pang and you can't help but feel like you're ruining this moment for him. You clear your throat, and tell Minnie, “It says ‘Daddy loves you.’”

Her eyes go wide, and she gasps like it is breaking news, “Daddy loves me?” 

“Daddy loves you,” Matt instantly confirms, “always and forever. And you'll have this to remind you.”

The sentiment stirs so much in you, and you let your headache push it all away and instead of getting emotional, you help Mouse put on her new bracelet. She rips her arm away from you as soon as she can to mimic her Daddy and holds up her wrist to show off her bracelet. 

“I love Daddy, too!” 

The little anxiety and self-doubt demon stirs in your chest. You love to see them bond, but you can't help but yearn for your daughter to shout she loves you, too, and you want your own bracelet. You know, you know, you are going to be overflowing with bracelets soon enough, but these ones are special. They have meaning and memories and -

And you remind yourself you can't do this in public, especially not around Minnie. You can't ruin their good time - if you haven't already. 

Instead, you gently pat her back and ask, “What do you say to Daddy for the gift?”

“Thank you, Daddy!”

“You're very welcome, Mouse.”

Your daughter looks at her new piece of jewelry in amazement, turning her wrist so she can see all angles. With her distracted, you move to finish packing up by going to get the stroller, and by the time you have it popped open and your bag secured in the under pocket, Matt and Minnie are joining you by the doorway. Your little one needs no help buckling herself in and you can tell how happy she is by the way she kicks her feet. 

As you get in position to start pushing the stroller, Matt steps to stand beside you so you can guide him as you walk. He waits until you leave the diner to address you.

“We don't need to go to the park,” he says in a soft voice. 

You are shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, “It’s fine, Matt. It's just a headache.” It isn't just a headache - your medicine hasn't kicked in and your head is just pulsing, but you will survive.

He very gently squeezes your elbow, saying your name, “you know I can tell that isn't true. You should be -”

“FROGGY!”

Minnie’s excited scream drowns out whatever he was going to push for. 

On the corner ahead of you, waiting at the crosswalk are Foggy and Karen. They look like they are on a shopping trip - both carrying bags from different boutiques. They turn in unison towards you and Foggy breaks into the biggest smile once he spies your little group.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite little buddy! And her charming and beautiful parents. Wait,” he looks to Karen and gasps, eyes getting comically big, “is this the famous Saturday brunch?” He whirls around dramatically and points to Matt, like he is accusing him, “You're going to the park.”

“We're going to the park,” he confirms, his own grin starting to form at the antics and at the same time, Minnie exclaims, “we're gonna watch the duckies!”

“They are going to watch the duckies, Karen. Do you know what that does to my heart?” Foggy asks as he puts his hand on his chest. Karen shakes her head fondly and completely ignores him to address you.

“We've heard so many stories about the ducks. He gloats every Monday.”

Matt actually pouts at the statement, and you are reminded of a chastised puppy, “I don't gloat.”

“You gloat,” his friends say at the same time.

Minnie, of course, picks up quickly on the new word and kicks her feet as she giggles, “Daddy goats!”

A thought barely crosses your mind before the words are leaving your lips, “You should come with us.”

You can practically feel Matt's initial disapproval of the offer - not from selfishness but from you refusing to acknowledge your headache - but with how both Minnie and Foggy light up, you don't think he'll voice it. And you are right - he gives your arm a light squeeze as he agrees without any disdain, “The more the merrier.”

“I don't think this is an offer we can refuse,” Karen says, nudging Foggy with her elbow. “How can we say no to that face?”

You can't see Minnie’s face from behind her stroller, but you can picture her pleading little face. She has all of you wrapped around her little finger and you suspect she might start crying if they say no. 

“To the park we go!” Foggy declares, “and with perfect timing because the light just turned green.”

You let yourself tune out as you start to walk again. Foggy is animatedly telling Matt and Minnie about his quest to find his girlfriend the perfect birthday gift. Apparently, her preferred brand of hand lotion has been discontinued and nothing else is good enough. It is sweet to hear him being so concerned about her needs and wants. He's the type of partner you used to dream about - before you realized that would never be in the cards for you - someone who listens to what you say and doesn't treat you like a glorified maid. 

You only had two ‘serious’ relationships in your twenties and both had left you feeling worthless and unloved. You spent most of your time commuting to them and taking care of their needs only to be tossed aside when someone worth their time came along. 

You were the type to stay at home and do the laundry, raise the children - be out of sight and out of mind. You didn't get taken out on fancy dates. No one tried to woo you. 

No one went out of their way to buy you a gift. 

In fact, you don't remember the last time you even celebrated your birthday. Some of your coworkers sent you Happy Birthday emails last year - only because the first one is sent out company wide and you are pretty sure it's automated. 

You are fine with it, though. It's not like you celebrated such things as a kid, so you have nothing to miss. You are happy Foggy has someone he so clearly adores, and you hope, when Minnie grows up, she'll find someone like him. 

Soon enough, you're at the park and making your way to your designated spot. Despite it being a warm and sunny day, things are relatively empty, and you are thankful there are no older children shouting or causing a ruckus. You just want to sit down. 

You can hear Minnie unbuckling herself before you roll to a stop and there is a whirl of motion as you park. She's on the grass before you know it, scurrying like her namesake to get the picnic blanket out of its pocket and spread out. As you wait for her to finish setting up and Karen admires what a nice area you’ve picked, you realize Matt not only still has his hand on your bicep, but his thumb has been gently rubbing in a small circle. 

Your heart stutters in your chest and you don't know why he's doing such a thing and now that you're aware of it, it's all you can focus on. Your entire body feels like it is on fire - from his touch, from the situation, from your headache - and you fear making a complete idiot of yourself. Foggy and Karen are here, and you don't want to embarrass Matt. 

“Mommy, I need my sunnies!” Your perfect little distraction says from the other side of the stroller and it's the excuse you need to pull away from Matt. You kneel and rummage in your bag until you find the pink Barbie glasses and hand them over to your daughter, then take the time to pull yours out as well. 

By the time you get them on and lock the stroller, everyone else is on the blanket. You situate yourself beside Minnie and tell yourself you need to pay attention as she enthusiastically begins to point out ducks to Foggy and Karen. 

“That's Moose, he's mean!” She describes to her new friends, while grabbing Matt's hand so she can turn him in the right direction. You aren't sure if he really needs it - you haven't sat down and spoken about his needs since the revelation about his and Minnie’s senses. You make note to do that.

You listen to the back and forth about your daughter's favorite duck characters and story lines, trying to desperately be in the moment. The warm sun feels good on your skin, and you yearn to just flop over and close your eyes. The tension and pain seem to only be increasing. This may turn into a full-blown migraine. 

As you start to mentally debate taking more ibuprofen, Minnie cuts herself off from describing how Moose is a food thief and whips her head towards the street, eyes going big. It very much reminds you of a dog that has caught the scent of a prey animal. 

Foggy snorts with laughter at your daughter's expression, “Oh my God, she's just like Matt. What do you hear, girl? Is Timmy in a well?”

That has you wondering how often Matt gets his attention drawn away by something only he can sense and how many times Foggy has made that joke to him. 

You don't get a chance to ask, because Mouse is turning her big begging eyes on you now, “Mommy, it's the ice cream man! Can we get ice cream? Please, please, please, please?” She is practically vibrating with desire, and you are not going to deny her anything. 

“You can get a small ice cream,” you tell her, like it's a compromise. “You don't want your tummy to hurt later.”

She lets out a shriek of joy and scrambles up. To everyone's amusement, she starts digging through your bag for your wallet, and once she finds it, runs it back to you, held over her head like it's a prize. She practically crashes into you, the biggest smile on her face, and you do a scoop and turn maneuver to sit her in your lap. 

“Would you like any ice cream?” you ask the three friends sitting with you, not wanting anyone to feel excluded.

Foggy pushes himself up into standing before you finish getting the words out of your mouth, “Of course we want ice cream, what kind of question is that? Do I look like I say no to ice cream?”

“Oh, a cone does sound really good,” Karen muses beside you. 

“Then ice cream it is,” Matt declares, getting up as well. “My treat,” he adds much to your dismay. You don't get to protest, as he barrels on, holding his free hand out to Minnie, “Want to lead the way, sweetheart?”

Your daughter practically leaps up to grab onto her Daddy, demanding, “Carry me!”

“Minnie!” You quickly chastise, shame running through you. She knows better than to jump and climb on people, but you are beginning to fear Matt may become her new jungle gym. No one else shares this worry, least of all Matt, who simply gives into his daughter's will and swings her up onto his hip with a laugh. She clings to his neck and shoulder, and because she is sweet as pie, plants a big kiss on his cheek. 

Everything happens so fast that you are still sitting on the blanket with Karen, and you don't even think of standing before Foggy is looking down at you and Karen, “What flavor do you want?”

“I'm feeling chocolate,” the strawberry blonde hums, tapping her index finger on her chin. 

The shame and anxiety demon is growing in your throat at the implication you and Karen will stay while the men and your daughter fetch dessert. You want to say that you can pay and that you can go get it - that they should spend the time relaxing - but the darkness in your mind screams that if you say anything other than ‘vanilla’, you're going to ruin everything. Minnie's fun will stop, and Matt's friends are going to judge you, and thus him, and you can't do that. 

So, you croak out your preference and hope Matt's super senses are too focused on his daughter to notice you are two steps away from a breakdown.

“One chocolate, one vanilla, coming right up,” Foggy says so cheerfully and you wonder if he is always like this, or if it is an act for Minnie. You honestly can't tell, especially when he turns his attention to your little one, “Okay, Lassie, where's the ice cream truck?”

Matt and Karen laugh at the reference, and you force a smile because it is a cute joke. Minnie points over her Daddy's shoulder towards the road and directs, “That way!”

Matt, managing to keep a straight face, purposely turns to face the river and takes a step towards it, “this way?”

“No, Daddy! Other way!”

“Ah,” he pivots to his left, so he is facing the bushes that border the edge of the park, “This way.” 

Mouse dissolves into giggles, hiding her face against his neck and Matt gets the sweetest, dopiest smile on his face - like this is the best moment of his life. It makes your heart sing to see them play and tease and you wish so desperately you weren't in agony so you could actually enjoy it. 

Your daughter must say something to Matt, as he lets out a loud barking laugh before kissing the top of her head, “Okay, okay, we won't miss the ice cream. Fog, would you be so kind?” He motions to the sidewalk with the hand holding his cane and there must be an understanding, as the blonde man holds out his arm for Matt to take. The cane is expertly folded up and the two men and your daughter start walking towards the road. It doesn't take more than a few steps for all of them to start laughing again. 

You and Karen watch as they disappear down the sidewalk. The woman beside you is smiling softly, clearly enjoying the show that is Matt with Minnie. You hope you are smiling as well and not looking like some sort of summer Grinch. 

“You know,” Karen says a few moments after they turn around a corner and go out of sight, “I don't remember the last time I saw him smile so much.” 

You turn your attention to her, ducking your head just slightly, “she adores him.”

“And he adores her,” she quickly confirms. “And you.” You doubt that but know better than to try to argue. It doesn't matter, anyways, because she doesn't give you room to, continuing on, “He's been through a lot - not just his childhood but recently, too. I was really scared for him. We thought…we thought we lost him.” Your heart clenches tightly at the conversation. Karen switches from a soft smile to biting her lips and looking like she might start crying at the memories she's bringing up inside herself. “He's a good man but, truth be told, he's an idiot sometimes. He thought he was alone. That he had to be alone.”

You are lucky you are wearing your glasses because you can't bring yourself to look at Karen. It hurts to hear her talk about Matt in that way. You haven't had this sort of conversation with him - everything has been so surface level or about Minnie. You clear your throat and ask, “What about you and Foggy? You all seem very close.”

Karen laughs a little sadly, then tucks some hair behind her ear, “He and Foggy weren't talking. It was all…complicated. But it's better now. We're all good. Or we are working in it.” She takes a breath, and you see her look up, and you think she's smiling at you, “The point is he's…I don't worry anymore. You came into his life, and it is like you knocked some sense into him. He was never good at taking care of himself and now, he puts in the effort. He doesn't want to disappoint you. He wants to be a good dad.”

Her words confuse you - Matt seems very put together - he's a lawyer with amazing accomplishments under his belt. She must be talking about his personal life and fear trickles into your system. Was he an alcoholic or a drug user? As long as it was all behind him, you can't judge him for it. You know people have spotty pasts and even good people have rough times - and that doesn't make them any less of a good person. You'd be a hypocrite if you did think less of him because you've had your own share of troubles. 

You want Karen to know that. You start to pick at the hem of your jeans, so you have something to do with your hands while your mind free-fall. “He's a good dad,” you start slowly. “He's amazing with Minnie. He's so attentive and understanding and I love watching them play. I'm still getting used to the whole…” you lower your voice, just in case, “super-senses thing, but he's been helpful in explaining things. I’m just glad he wants to be in her life.”

“Are hers as good as his?” She asks and you can feel her leaning towards you. You don't know the answer to that, as Matt hasn't exactly explained in detail what he is able to do, but you do know Minnie has abilities you didn't know were possible. 

You shrug in response, “I'm not sure, but…I don't hear or see an ice cream truck, so.”

She laughs at that, then you fall back into a silence. You can tell she wants to ask more, but you aren't sure why she hesitates. You are grateful for it, though, and behind your glasses, you close your eyes. The back of your skull is throbbing and part of it has curled around to your left ear. You resist the urge to try to massage it away and instead try to stretch, letting your chin touch your collar bone. You focus on breathing through your nose, hoping it will magically make things more tolerable. 

Your mind feels like sludge, and you start wondering how long it will take until Minnie is worn out. You usually end up spending about an hour and a half at the park, enjoying the sun and ducks, and you've only just gotten here. You have no idea if it will go quicker or slower with more people for Mouse to interact with. Usually, she stays in your lap, hiding away from people, but she very obliviously loves Foggy. You think it is because he's good with children - Matt told you he has a big extended family. She had opened up to him very quickly once she realized he is Matt's best friend. Best friend is an important word to a toddler, apparently.

“It isn't just Minnie,” Karen says suddenly, bringing you back to reality. You frown at her, not understanding what she's talking about. Had you missed part of the conversation?

“It isn't just Minnie,” she repeats, “it's you, too.”

You feel like a lost lamb. Your brain hasn't caught up with what is going on and all you can do is gawk at the woman beside you.

“Me…?” You question and she nods. 

“You make him happy, too.”

You don't understand why she's telling you that or what it has to do with anything. You get you've made Matt happy by bringing Minnie into his life. The only response you can think to give is a simple, “I'm glad.” 

You can feel Karen examining you, but you refuse to meet her gaze. You don't think that was the right thing to say, but it is all you have. You are glad bringing Minnie into Matt's life has made him happy and seemingly changed things for the better for him. You want him to have a good life. 

In the corner of your eye, you see Karen reach out and you brace yourself as she puts her hand on your shoulder. She says your name, then gently questions, “Are you doing alright? You look pale.”

You force yourself to smile and give a dismissive shake of your head, “Just a little headache. I took some ibuprofen; it just hasn't kicked in yet.”

She quickly drops her hand, humming in sympathy, “I get that. I have some Motrin in my purse, if you need something stronger.” 

“Oh, no, I'll be okay,” you promise. 

You'll have to be okay. Minnie and Matt will be back from getting ice cream any minute and you will need to go into Mom-mode to make sure your daughter doesn't make an absolute mess of herself. Then, you'll need to keep an eye on her while you remain at the park for however long, because you will never forgive yourself if you give any indication to Matt's friends that you're not a suitable parent. 

You just need to take a deep breath and make sure you don't space out again. 

You'll be fine.

After all, it is just a headache.

Tags:

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[rockstvrdotcom]

It's 💅anon again!!!!

Can you pls do a s/o who like to bite or mark their partner/mate a lot??? (NSFW or SFW all fine)

With EJ, Masky and Hoodie pls 🥺🥺🥺

ej, masky, and hoodie with a s/o that likes to bite

ej, masky, hoodie x reader (nsfw but mostly sfw in there)

HI NONNIEEE!! the first work u asked for is otw!! i just decided to post this one first because the other is longer lol

tw/cw: marking/biting (duhhh), nsfw, guys theres gore in the photos so beware, fem reader, mentions of blood, scratching, cigarette burns on skin/clothes, spanking, slapping, slight somnophilia kink

EYELESS JACK

you like to mark him:

at first he was reluctant, he thought his skin was already ruined enough at it was. you assured him that it's fine, and that he's the most handsome boy you've ever laid your eyes on. (you both cringed at that but he lowk loved it cos hes canonically insecure abt his skin)

once you did it the first time.. this man could not get enough. literally begged you to do it over and over again. he's obsessed with it. you almost got tired of it (you could never tho)

loves when you leave little kitten licks on the mark; he loves the feeling so much like he could just eat you

loves when your on top of him as you give him hickeys— especially when your sitting on top of him and your hips are grinding against his.

lets out really silent whimpers as you mark him, so silent you don't even hear them most of the time. but when you're near his throat, you can faintly hear them.

gets hard so easily from you biting/marking him.

obsessed with when you have lipstick on and leave little lipstick stains on his cheeks or really any part of his body.

...loves when you mark him near the base of his cock— whether its lipstick stains or his hickeys. he just loves seeing the marks as he jerks off when your not around him. (yall im going to hell)

he likes to mark you:

after he begins to mark you he does not stop. sucks on the skin until its a dark purple/green.

sometimes he even likes to bite through the skin and lick up the blood— if you're okay with it of course.

gets really turned on when you let him break skin, usually ends up in him bending you over the nearest surface and fucking you silly. the blood gets him so riled up.

whenever you both are not busy he constantly has his teeth in your neck; not all the time but often. sometimes he'll just sneak up behind you and take a bite like you're some sort of snack.

he likes to mark you around your collarbone and neck; makes you wear v necks around the mansion so people can see the piece of art he created on your neck.

he was really gentle with it at first— asking you if it hurt or if you were ok. he has a higher pain tolerance than normal he has a hard time knowing the limits, but when you tell him it's ok and tell him you want more? he just can't help himself.

if he's marking you and you both have nothing to do it usually always ends up in him dicking you down. this mans sex drive is HIGH

asks you to sit on his lap any chance he gets and let him mark you.

guys this man is just so obsessed with marking—  gn.

MASKY

you like to mark him:

masky n tim are very different.. tim is such a sweetie pie but masky is a whole 'nother thing. but lets talk about masky

this man.. he's so down bad for you marking him like the second you asked he started rushing you to come over here and start sucking on his neck.

all that and he still won't ever take off his mask— but maybe he'll lift it just enough for you to leave lipstick stains and hickeys down his jawline.

i don't even know whether he prefers the lipstick stains or hickeys. he loves when you break skin though, he's just so into it and it gets him so hot n sweaty.

also obsessed with the way you leave scratch marks down his back when he pounds into you, likes looking at them in the mirror and how they burn in the shower

when you're leaving marks around his neck you can really smell the earthy/woody scent he has.. and a faint smell of cigarettes' on him.

likes when you mark him as hes smoking a cig; two of his favorite things at the same time? sign him up

has to have some sort of grip on your thighs while you mark him, he's obsessed with your thighs.

it js makes him so horny when you have your teeth sunken down into his skin.

wants you to leave lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt or hoodie.. idk man he js loves it.

he likes to mark you

oh boy

he lifts up his mask just enough so he can bite you and taste your skin.

thighs. leaves scratches, bites, kisses all over your thighs. he just can't stop man.

begs you to let him mark you all the time, even though it lowk humiliates him.

"please, pretty. i wan' everyone to know your mine."

leaves scratch marks all over your ass and back, idk he's just obsessed with it.

the whole marking thing rlly plays into his obsession with letting everybody know your his. he's really possesive.

this one might be a lil.. yk. but if you're okay with it and let him, he likes to leave cigarette burns on your thighs. something about stubbing out a cigarette 0n you just does something to him. or he likes leaving cigarette burns on your clothes that you don't mind being ruined.

the way he marks you is just so diverse, you don't know whats next, a bite or??

also likes to spank you or js see your ass red.. seeing the pretty light red shade on your ass does something to him. when you guys are fucking he'll grip/spank your ass hard, he likes seeing his hand prints on your ass.

HOODIE

you like to mark him

when it comes to marking, hoodie and brian are relatively similar but hoodies way more kinky w/ it.

hoodie does not hesitate to do it in public. begs you to mark him all over while you guys are in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of people around.

wants you to leave them in the most noticeable places like his neck and jaw.

he just wants you all over him honestly. he wants you ontop of him littering his chest with kisses and hickies. hes so obsessed with you marking him and you can smell the strong but faint smell of cologne on him (idk how that works dont ask me)

looks down his shirt randomly just to see the marks you left on him.

every time he sees one fading he asks you to do it again.

just like ej he likes when you leave marks near the base of his dick, it just adds to the pleasure when the forming hickey is throbbing while you're sucking him off.

he likes to mark you

doesn't stop once he starts.

hes kinda a sadist tbh

doesn't do anything like cigarette burns like masky. but likes to take a smoke while you mark him. he doesn't smoke often though.

hickeys and lipstick stains are his favorite. slapping you and seeing the red slowly creep onto your face tops all of that + bruises aswell.

doesn't slap you just to inflict pain; surprisingly. he just wants to see the red marks on your pretty 'lil face

takes pictures of the marks he left on you with his camera and jerks off to them later.

praises you but also degrades you at the same time as he marks you.

"fuck, you're my cute lil' slut aren't you? so adorable with my hickeys all over her."

grips at your thighs hard while you guys are fucking; hard enough to leave dark bruises. he admires then while you sit on his lap later on.

speaking of sitting on his lap,, he loves when you're sitting ontop of him or you're on your knees infront of him as he lightly slaps you on the face, just enough to leave his handprint.

also likes spanking your ass and leaving bruises on it

squeezes your ass later to hear you wince in slight pain.

marks you while your sleeping and likes to see your reaction when you wake up

kisses the marks he leaves on you

[ddejavvu]

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader

summary: you think anakin's scar is sexy // based on this post and the line, "during heated moments of course, when you dig your nails into his face as he prompts you to 'give me another one, baby. cut me open, make me bleed.'"

cw: smut, minors dni. blood/gore (she scratches him and draws blood), don't like don't read.

Sex with Anakin is a bloody thing; the rush of it through your ears and the tang of it on your tongue as your spit runs hot. Though it mainly stays beneath your skin, rising to the surface to splotch you purple here and there, it occasionally surfaces due to the harsh bite of Anakin's teeth.

He's latched onto your shoulder now, some base instinct he doesn't bother to combat. He grunts against your skin as he ruts into you, teeth digging sharply into your skin. He hasn't broken it, but he will if he clamps down harder, and there's no telling what he'll do.

"Fuck, Anakin," You wince at the pain that's boiling your blood, sending shockwaves of its heat to your core, "Be- be careful, you're gonna leave a- mm! - a scar."

He exhales through his nose; you feel the breath against your shoulder.

His pace doesn't slow, but his teeth unlatch from your shoulder, leaving strings of spit behind, and his lips press there lazily.

"You and scars," He hums thoughtfully, almost amusedly, "You fuckin' love 'em, don't you?"

"Hm?" Is all you can manage as Anakin latches to your jaw now, his lip a tight, sucking ring.

"You love my fucking scar," He accuses, licking a hot stripe of saliva up your jawline and over your cheek. It puts the aforementioned scar in your view, and you admire the way it cuts jaggedly close to his eye.

He's right; it's hot.

"I do," You breathe, really more of a moan as Anakin's dick prods deep into your sensitive cunt, "I- It's so pretty, Ani."

"Yeah?" He asks, breath hitting your face, "Give me another one, then."

"What?"

"Give me another one," He repeats, breaking the bruising seal that his hand has had over your hip since he'd first laid over you. He lifts his hand to take your own, bringing it up to his face and setting it over his eye. Your nails rest gently against his tan skin, and his breath shudders when he exhales over your mouth.

"Dig your fucking nails into me, baby. Give me another scar- cut me open and make me fucking bleed."

"Anakin!" You protest, momentarily horrified, "I- I can't do that! I can't hurt you!"

"You can," He urges- no, begs, his hips snapping faster and faster into yours as he smashes your hand to his face, feeling the bite of your nails, "Do it, baby, fucking- fucking do it, give me another scar!"

"Anakin-"

"Do it!"

You let the heat of the moment seize you, and, though all five of your nails dig into his skin, one breaks through. You scrape your middle finger so harshly against his eyebrow that it draws blood, a crimson streak that lays lopsided and not quite parallel against his now-healed scar.

The burning pain that accompanies your nail's sharp edge is enough to push Anakin over the edge, and you feel yourself succumbing to your own orgasm as he begins to fuck his way through his inside of your spasming cunt. When the height of it takes him he nudges your hand out of the way and rubs his face against yours, leaving you with a gory smear of blood against your own eyebrow.

Something about it makes you sob; not sadness or anger, but perhaps sheer viscerality. Anakin's blood on your face feels cosmically binding, wrought from the edge of your nail at his heated insistence. He feels the shake of your chest as he collapses above you, his dick still inside of you though it softens now that he's spent.

"Shit," Is all he can offer, and you agree.

"Does it hurt?" You ask curiously, knowing that an apology will be dismissed; he'd begged for it, after all.

"A bit," He shrugs, eyes shut despite the crimson stain just left of them, "I've had worse."

"It'll scar," You note, perhaps stating the obvious but acknowledging it now for the first time.

"Yeah. Now I've got double the sex appeal," Anakin nods absentmindedly against your chest, more focused on regaining his breath, "And every time you see it you'll think of how you gave it to me."

[2-dsimp]

☀️ Random Adonis headcannons ☀️

Pt2 Adonis post dump

===|0====|0|=====|0|0

Yandere Hero who is an absolute prick. Now that you know him for who he really is he doesn’t need to fake a smile or be the gentleman social media portrays him to be. When in reality he’s a little shit that’s hellbent on ruining your life just for fun.

Yandere Hero who never misses out on a chance to play mean pranks on you in his free time to make your life difficult. He’s like a sour patch kid without a sweet side, one instance he dedicated his time to place all your important work on the ceiling. Yes the ceiling. He can merge any object through any surface himself included.

And he’ll enjoy watching you struggling to pull it out as you scream profanities at him. To be honest he finds it entertaining seeing a weakling like you squaring up at him. As if you could put a singular tiny scratch on his body. So he just he leans back against a wall antagonizing you with a evil smirk.

Yandere Hero who’ll constantly try to make you mad since he finds your spitfire attitude fascinating and very attractive. And begins to troll you by acting like a typical house cat. As he swats your computer away just as you were about to submit your paperwork final.

Or even sabotages your cooking as he decides not to turn off the oven when your pizza is burning while you’re still in the bathroom. He’ll even blatantly ignore you when you’re calling for him and would only appear once you stopped. To find you struggling with the task you were gonna ask him to do for you. Then have the audacity to say

“Why didn’t you call for me? I could’ve easily did that for you dove”

Yandere Hero who’ll always do the bare minimum when he’s out on patrol, just so he can see you again when he clocks out. It was just no fun without his precious toy as he easily apprehends villains. Torturing them to get some kind of enjoyment like he usually does, but nonetheless even when covered in their blood he still feels empty.

Sighing to himself, he leaves the poor criminals mangled body in a dumpster without an ounce of remorse. Every since you came into his life it’s like without you only pure boredom awaits him.

[gh0stswh0re]

today's thots 😏: you have been begging ghost to tell you his name for days now. he does it while eating you out.

a/n: literally wrote this in 20 mins, fully aware it kinda sucks

he has you sprawled across his bed, your legs freely hanging over the edge. he is kneeling beside you, his hands holding your hips in place, the rough surface of his gloves ever so slightly scratching your soft, delicate skin, his half-masked face buried between your thighs, which are littered with hickeys and bite marks. he's hungrily lapping at your arousal, shamelessly delving his tongue inside you.

a quiet whimper of annoyance, of protest, leaves your lips when he releases the hold of his right hand on your hip, and removes his mouth from your needy, dripping cunt. he brings his fingers to his wet lips, catching the fabric of his glove between his teeth, quickly pulling it off and throwing it away, leaving it forgotten laying somewhere on the ground. his focus shifts back to you immediately - he inserts two of his thick, long fingers inside you. he begins flicking his tongue at your clit, while his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you so deliciously, so perfectly.

occasionally, he completely changes his movement – he lazily curls his fingers inside you, (a pathetic, half-assed attempt to stretch you even more), and simultaneously removes his tongue to gently suck on the swollen, sensitive nub.

you are far beyond the point of hiding your moans in embarrassment. your mind simply too foggy to process anything but the lewd, wet noises filling the room, the sinister, overbearing, pleasure.

he feels you clenching around his fingers, he hears every breath that catches in your throat and he pays full fucking attention to each and every one of your pretty moans that grow carelessly loud, animalistic, and primal. he notices your muscles tensing up, as your body shakes and your hips involuntarily jerk forward – he groans at the sudden contact.

you, though, are simply too far gone to realize any of this, too needy and eager for your sweet release, far too wrecked and broken to form any thought at all.

he removes his dominant hand from your warm cunt, which is pleading even for the smallest touch, the slightest friction feels heavenly. he quickly and messily wipes the wetness off on the side of his clothed thigh. never removing his hot, sloppy mouth in the process - he continues to swallow the sweetness of your arousal, every fucking bit of it, as if his life depends on it, as if all the oxygen was sucked out of his body, your being replacing the air that he inhales, the air that he would die without.

And then he … taps your thigh twice, as if to draw any crumb of attention left in that scrambled pretty mind of yours towards him. your chest feels heavy, and that impossibly sharp warmth in your abdomen threatens to spill all over your body, … yet you manage to shoot open your half-lidded eyes.

he's dragging his index finger across your thigh, barely touching the surface of your skin. it's a shape? a letter? the repeated movement confirms it, S – I. what kind of sadistic mind game is the cocky bastard playing now? and most importantly why is he doing it now when you are so -

he continues his merciless assault, - M

your back arches, legs trembling, - O

the control over your own body begins to slip away from you, both intoxicating and terrifying to experience. you physically feel the fiery pleasure inside you threatening to spill all over the edge - N

''Simon?-'' it's a god-given miracle that you gained enough composure to repeat the word, the name, out loud.

the last thing you feel, right before the pure euphoria spreads through your body and mind, is him smiling against you.

[ozzgin]

heya...!!!! Sweetypie 🍓🥧🧁.... It's me again, i want to make a request again...if you don't mind 😃.

Can you make a request regarding creepypasta with ticci tobby and eyelash Jack .Previous request for a creepypasta

Most certainly! Though my drafts are a mess so I’m no longer sure what the previous request refers to. ;-; Hopefully this is close to what you pictured.

Yandere! Creepypasta x Reader

Featuring Ticci-Toby and Eyeless Jack and a clueless reader that caught their attention. TW: dubious consent, gore and violence

Ticci-Toby

Oh, he really can’t explain it but you’ve tied his heart into a knot. His chest is tight and it’s almost as if his lungs struggle to get enough oxygen. You seem kind and he can’t help but daydream that he’s the subject to your friendly gestures. He feels like a spoiled child, drinking up every drop of affection, tipsy with delight. If only those doll eyes of yours looked at him.

He’s hesitant to approach you because his moods are so unpredictable. He’d love to shower you in adoration and spend the rest of his life protecting you from any threats. Then comes his rage and he’s tempted to scratch your face off for smiling to anyone else but him. Why are you trying so hard for other people? No one appreciates you as much as he does, (Y/N). Is his attention not enough? Does he need to hold your gaze in by force?

Suffice to say that Ticci-Toby can be extremely jealous and possessive well before you’re even aware of his existence. Unlike Eyeless Jack, however, he is very open about his displays of love and doesn’t wait too long to introduce himself. His impulsive desires take over any consideration he’s had regarding your safety in front of his mood swings. He can worry about it when it actually happens. Now matter the anger, he’d never hurt his darling, would he? It’s the others that will have to pay.

If he’s feeling particularly hyperactive he will begin parroting his reasons for your fated romance and why you were meant to be. If anxiety equates in, the narrations turn into regurgitated, repetitive questions stemming out of insecurity. Are you really certain you haven’t gotten tired of him? Truly, without a doubt? Perhaps you were thinking of leaving him? The interrogations culminate in desperate begging for reassurance. Please let him know you’ll never, ever abandon him. Otherwise he will have to guarantee it himself one way or another.

Eyeless Jack

You happened to be the next victim on his list. The creature stood above your sleeping form in absolute silence. You barely shuffled at the sudden coldness from the edge of the scalpel coming into contact with your abdomen. The blade, however, remained still on the surface. The hollow sockets were fixated on your unconscious face, seemingly deep in consideration.

He can’t quite pinpoint a reasoning to it, but your presence has caught his interest. On the bright side, you get to keep your kidney. The only caveat is that you now have a rather dedicated admirer with a less orthodox approach to his growing crush.

Jack primarily enjoys watching you from afar and leaves only vague hints of his presence. Which, of course, depends on your definition of vague. At first you didn’t make the connection between the people wronging you in your daily life and the mysterious packages you’d receive in the mail containing frozen raw organs. You had assumed some neighbor might’ve gotten some subscription for their dog and messed up the address. As the news piled up, often involving these particular people as abruptly missing, your suspicions increased. Especially after noticing that none of your neighbors seem to have pets. And then the love notes started and you nearly threw up next to your mailbox.

Jack is fidgeting like a schoolgirl upon seeing your reaction to his confessions. Could you be that overwhelmed by his love? It wasn’t a big deal, really. He’s just doing what he’s best at. He’s just glad to ease your life by erasing the factors that upset you. You don’t have to worry about returning his favors. Humans come with two kidneys for a reason, after all. They were made for sharing.

Now that he’s gotten his answer, he can confidently approach you. He can’t wait to get his claws on you. You look stunning from a distance, too, but nothing compares to actually feeling you. Hearing your whimpers of shy protest, sensing the increased pulse tumultuously running through your veins, observing your pupils contract in mild…fear? No, most likely just excitement. His spiraling black eyes (or rather, lack of) devour your presence with anatomical curiosity. If he’s careful enough, he might even play with you a little. He’ll be extra careful with his darling.

[pathetichimbos]

How would tommy be like during sex? rough or soft mb in between?

I have many thoughts. So many. I don't really mention a gender but the pp goes into something. what you decide that is is between you and god

Well, to start it off, we all know Thomas is a big man. 6'5, wide set shoulders, big tummy and just all around a big stature.

He's naturally strong from growing up on a farm and working at the slaughterhouse, especially given that he walks back and forth a lot.

And he knows it.

This is something I could write a whole essay on, but I'll keep it short for the sake of this post and it's primary objective: A lot of people think Thomas is unaware. They think he doesn't understand basic things, like in The Beginning, after the slaughterhouse is shut down and Jess has to kick Thomas out, resorting to insulting him after Thomas won't leave, a lot of people assume it's because his mind can't grasp the fact that it's shut down, but it just isn't true. Thomas is very aware, and he's a very intelligent man. No, he may not be able to read all that well, and math confuses and frustrates him, but he's not an idiot.

All this to say that Thomas isn't this dumb jock that doesn't understand his own strength, he's very aware of how strong he is. He's spent his entire life on a farm, and if you've ever spent a lot of time around animals, you know that you have to know how to control yourself and your strength to protect the animals and yourself from getting hurt.

He's a gentle man, with a kind heart. And this carries over to sex, with several other factors as well.

See, the thing is, considering the time frame and everything, it's safe to assume Thomas never got the sex talk. He knows that sex happens between two people, he knows that babies come from sex, and he knows that it's sinful to have sex outside of marriage, but that's really it. He has no other frame of reference.

Considering this, and his own self repulsion due to his skin disease and seclusion from his peers, I honestly believe that Thomas is probably pseudo-asexual.

I say pseudo because I don't think Thomas is actually asexual. I think he has those urges and thoughts, but pushed them away in his own form of repulsion due to his self hatred and the shameful aspect his mother projected onto him.

It's very likely that Thomas does in fact have sexual feelings, and most of his "experience", if you could call it that, probably came from media. When someone of particular attractiveness came on the TV, like the local weather woman, or the sultry voice of the unseen radio man crackled through, it gave him an itch he couldn't scratch.

He would feel ashamed at these thoughts, because not only was the feeling such a sinful act in his mind, but he also believed he was too worthless to deserve anything like that. After all, those feelings are reserved for people who are married and love each other, and he doesn't believe he can ever be one of those people.

At some point or another it gets to be too much though, and he eventually caves and starts taking matters into his own hands, but the guilt and shame that comes afterwards makes it a very rare occasion.

So, given all this, we can finally move onto answer the original question of how Thomas is during sex.

Given that Thomas doesn't really know what sex is, he doesn't ever make any moves himself. He doesn't know how, all he knows is that sex is meant for marriage.

But as the two of you date and become closer, it gets harder and harder to avoid the topic. Sure, he's been attracted to the people on TV and in the magazines, but this is different. You're really real, and you're really here, and you really like him too. All of those shameful feelings he's spent his life trying to push away rush to the surface everytime you touch him in any intimate way.

But he won't change his mind on waiting until marriage, he has way too many pent up issues to get past that. The two of you fool around, sure, (which leads to you realizing just how little he really knows, and to talking him about it all), but that never really moves past desperate, through the clothes humping, and the occasion wandering hands when that just isn't enough.

When that time finally comes, though, he's riddled with anxiety.

It takes a lot of soft words and easing before it actually happens.

He stays still for a long time after he first bottoms out, and he's trying not to hold you too tightly. He's overwhelmed with the emotions running through him, and you can feel his tears from where his face is buried in your shoulder.

When he finally does move, it's awkward, and bumpy, and there's no real rhythm. He's just desperately moving, holding you tightly. He's very loud, moaning and whining against you. He finishes way too quickly to give you a chance, but he's got a lifetime to make up for, so it definitely doesn't end there.

Skipping ahead a bit, Thomas gets a lot more comfortable (and better) with sex. I think overall, he prefers the slow and lazy. He doesn't like to rush things, he prefers taking your time and enjoying it.

But, he's honestly pretty moldable. He forms into whatever you prefer, he just enjoys being with you more than anything. He'll be as rough or as soft as you'd like, you just have to direct him on what to do.

Anyways, now that we've taken six detours, it looks like we've finally reached our destination. I hope y'all enjoyed, and feel free to send in more asks like this.

Thank you <33

[pettyprocrastination]

Silent Treatment

Word count: 941

Warnings: angst, lack of communication within a relationship, that's about it? Anyways silent treatment is bad communicate with those you love this is purely for fiction purposes don't do this in real relationships.

An: wrote this on my freewrite for a word sprint whole heavily sick on the couch (still am🤧) so if there are any major spelling or formatting errors blame my Samsung and the tumblr app.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

If there's one thing Simon Riley can't stand it's the silent treatment.

He's used to anger. Knows it well and knows his own. Something nasty and rotten that boils inside of him, festering until he can extract it from his veins through the catharsis of violence under the command of his captain or splitting his knuckles open in an empty gym late in the night.

A man who spent his childhood fed insults and violence at the hand of his father has no qualms with a belly full of rage.

But oh, your silence all but starves him.

It isn't passive aggressive avoidance. There's no tight lipped smile as you insist everything is fine when the truth is standing before you both, because that'd give him plausible deniability. There'd still be that surface level communication no matter how empty it rang.

You offer him something so much worse.

Absolutely nothing.

At first, he's content to roll his eyes and let you stew. You want to act like a petulant little child? Fine by him. You can't beat Ghost at a game of solitude, he'll win every fucking time, sweetheart.

But then you slip by him in the hall, turning your shoulder to avoid his own brawny frame when before you would reach your hand out by just a millimeter so your fingertips would graze his own if only for a second.

By Christ, you might as well have backhanded him.

It makes him feel something ugly knotted deep in his chest. His body begins to itch down to the very bone when days past and you've yet to speak or for fuck's sake acknowledge him in anyway.

It's stupid and immature and childish.

YOU are stupid and immature and childish.

He's content to simply sit in his own silence and be done with it. He's left men and women for less than a passive aggressive attempt at an apology.

But while you slide into your stoic silence like a hot bath after an exhausting day, Simon singes his skin down to the bone on his. 

Perhaps it's ironic. That a man called "Ghost" is so uncomfortable with his own silence being gifted back to him that he turns to mild annoyances to gain a reaction from you.

Knocking your shoulder as you pass by one another, looming over you to grab something off of a shelf, entirely invading your personal space when it's unnecessary to press his body to yours in some hope of a twitch, a sigh, anything for you to show him that you're still in there aside from a closed mouth and empty eyes.

He'll find himself scratching at his scalp until the skin is raw and his fingers are tinted red.

Scream at him. Insult him. Hit him. Use him. All that is familiar territory.

Anything but silence.

When you return back to your apartment and find the entire place overwhelmed with the stench of cigarettes, he hopes it's the catalyst. That was your cardinal rule afterall, no smoking inside. One he could only get away with after he's fucked you to exhaustion and you're too comfortable to lift your head from his chest to scold him for indulging his self-destrictive habits in your own bed.

The pack is three quarters finished by the time you get home, the cigarette between his fingers is all but crushed flat as he watches you slip off your shoes and take soft steps towards him until you stand between his knees.

A myriad of comments sit behind his teeth, ready to be spit in your face. Wanting to ask if youre done with your childish charade and gotten it all out of your system, or maybe you've finally cracked because youre so lonely you can't help but come to him for a proper fuck because nobody will make you feel like he does.

But he says none of it. Simon Riley simply waits, and stares at you with tired eyes like a discarded shelter dog.

"I'm tired, Simon."

Your voice, my God had he missed it so much, sounds almost raw to his ears. A rasp to it that makes him wonder if you'd been crying.

Beneath the guilt, a sick part of him, just big enough to whisper above his conscience, feels a satisfaction in knowing he matters enough for you to shed tears in his name.

"I know."

"I don't like this. I don't like feeling like-" your words die in your throat as your face begins to scrunch up, forcing the whine in the back of your mouth to halt so you can uphold the facade of strength and resilience you told yourself you would on the car ride over here.

But then you look down and see the tired eyes of the man you don't know what to call to you and feel yourself wanting nothing more than to crumble in his arms.

“I know.”

A scarred hand gently grasps your thigh, slowly guiding you closer until you fold into his lap. Your own hands rise to cup his face, savoring the way he leans into your touch.

"We can't keep doing this."

"I know."

Despite his lack of words, you hear him perfectly.

You know he'll say sorry. He knows you'll say it as well. He'll tell you he's going to try and you'll accept it.

He knows he'll fuck it up again. As do you.

But now, as you tuck your face into the crook of his shoulder and pretend to not feel him shake and tremble in your arms, he vows to himself to make sure he never drives you to silence again.