#varis disapproves

[ghoul-haunted]

honestly we would not be here re: cullen if I did not read hellblazer at 13

[unproduciblesmackdown]

fr brian is so funny for his whole deal being like remarkable nervousness & that he ends up dragged along with the two jokes pranks horror drama menaces that are brooke & zeke who are ricocheting around while brian is head in hands bringing the “pleeease let this be a normal field trip.” and of course shoutout to how every character has their own unbroken chaos going on, brooke & zeke especially, not only their Both pulling antics & liking to joke around & indulge in horror but like, that they do also have this constant siblingesque tendency in their dynamic to like on a dime go into [throwing a notebook at the other’s head flipping them off kicking biting] teasing to exasperated mode for a whole ten seconds before then both immediately being back on task, regular mode, like And Anyways. & brian naturally does not jump right into this sort of rapport, but shoutout to his like natural beleagueredness allowing him to still occupy a niche here & be outright going Oh No with brooke about zeke Getting A Zeke Idea. everyone’s trading off in being the most elevated person in any given moment is fun, this is just How It Is, and i really enjoy again how scenes operate where like, again, everyone has their own thread of chaos consistently winding (or unraveling. whichever you want) and the way the writing jumps between these simultaneous & overlapping goings on and the characters naturally do as well is lively & humorous. i also love this scene where brooke & zeke are both ruminating hard but somewhat separately despite having an exchange, while brian enters just fully preoccupied with the trial of having paint on himself & his just openly inserting himself into this exchange by being like do you think it’s permanent :( and that despite zeke likewise being so preoccupied as to miss an entire remark of brooke’s or else simply fail to give any response indicating otherwise, he happens to immediately reply to brian’s paint tragedy on its terms. that tina then comes by and has half her understudy buddy moment (she also actually calls brooke in another scene) with some pointed critical remarks towards brooke, only for brian to Also just totally in stride ask her about the paint, to which she also gives a seemingly earnest & matter of fact response about it lmao. and brian just being so absolutely beset by things like getting paint on himself, and the way the books are written with the vivacious characters & inherent comedic type framework alongside the horror and the humorous voice of the actual author coming through in addition to the pov narration involving bonus funny asides about everything all really gets me, and brian being a ghost also and knowing it and being so down to earth like, this play sabotage mystery is also entirely relevant to him, all the more so as the person who exists for this role very literally, and he’s just totally consumed by being bothered by getting paint on himself and worrying about it. it keeps Especially making me laugh like getting a bit teared up about it, but i think the entire book is Like That in both the very dry inherent humor and how these tiny moments of idiosyncratic flair that Could be stripped out are not, and there’s all these little momentary two line aside exchanges or internal remarks that add some damn texture and give everyone both more Character and Presence and sort of unfiltered “i’m like eleven”ness than if everyone was always sitting quietly while the Important part of a scene unfolds uninterrupted, but instead everyone can both be very absorbed with different things while also being able to spontaneously bounce off of someone else’s preoccupation for a moment. and things are just fun and funny. and i suspect that say, having been a theatre & horror appreciating oft intensely preoccupied but also bound to spontaneously ricochet off of goings on kid, i enjoy everyone bringing that energy here lmao. but i also enjoyed goosebumps books as a kid & i had a whole kick out of reading this one now, in a straightforward way even though i hardly could have the straightforward [i’m reading this as an elementary schooler] style of experience. you go r.l. stine. i could not give a single direct quote from the “the ghost next door” book but i’m already humored by the entire back and forth that is the narrator again befriending this new guy but she suspects something’s up with him such as that he might be the ghost next door, while he keeps being all the more suspicious in turn when she’s most suspicious, just this back and forth of it. and it’s again all the funnier that in fact the narrator is the ghost, unknowingly this time. and there’s also like this shadow self who keeps lurking ominously & perhaps tries to kill the friend to take his place in the living world or something and i remember that in fact coming across as ominous and intense when eleven. but it’s also intense anyways b/c our narrator unknownst to herself and thus us did in fact die partway through. like, brian only tried to take someone’s place in a living world theatrical production, at least, however he has to keep falling to his doom, sorry man. he’s fine though i guess. and in the meantime he was like oh my godddd paint on my clothes oh my god why do i let you two drag me into scary situations i don’t like horror we’re gonna get in trouble stop talking about ghosts aaaagh. and then he gamely goes along anyways despite needing to complain, thank you hero. bolstering everyone else’s nerves b/c they’re trying to cheer you up

[luna-azzurra]

Body language cheat sheet for writers

As a writer, understanding and incorporating body language into your storytelling can greatly enhance your characters and their interactions. Here's a cheat sheet to help you describe body language effectively:

Facial Expressions:

* Raised eyebrows: Surprise, disbelief, or curiosity.

* Furrowed brow: Concentration, confusion, or frustration.

* Smiling: Happiness, amusement, or friendliness.

* Frowning: Disapproval, sadness, or concern.

* Lip biting: Nervousness, anticipation, or tension.

Eye Movements:

* Eye contact: Confidence, interest, or honesty.

* Avoiding eye contact: Shyness, guilt, or deception.

* Narrowed eyes: Suspicion, skepticism, or concentration.

* Wide eyes: Shock, fear, or surprise.

* Rolling eyes: Exasperation, annoyance, or disbelief.

Gestures:

* Crossing arms: Defensiveness, disagreement, or discomfort.

* Nervous fidgeting: Anxiety, restlessness, or impatience.

* Pointing: Assertiveness, emphasis, or accusation.

* Open palms: Honesty, openness, or sincerity.

* Hand on chin: Deep thought, contemplation, or evaluation.

Posture and Movement:

* Slumped shoulders: Defeat, sadness, or fatigue.

* Upright posture: Confidence, attentiveness, or authority.

* Pacing: Restlessness, agitation, or contemplation.

* Tapping foot: Impatience, annoyance, or frustration.

* Leaning in: Interest, engagement, or curiosity.

Touch:

* Hugging: Affection, comfort, or warmth.

* Handshake: Greeting, introduction, or agreement.

* Patting on the back: Encouragement, praise, or camaraderie.

* Clenched fists: Anger, determination, or frustration.

* Brushing hair behind the ear: Nervousness, coyness, or flirtation.

Mirroring:

* When two characters unconsciously mimic each other's body language, it indicates rapport, connection, or empathy.

Nodding:

* A subtle nod can convey agreement, understanding, or encouragement.

Crossed legs:

* Crossed legs can indicate relaxation or a casual, nonchalant attitude.

Tapping fingers:

* Impatience, anticipation, or nervousness can be expressed through rhythmic finger tapping.

Hand on the chest:

* Placing a hand on the chest can convey sincerity, empathy, or a heartfelt emotion.

- Tilting the head:

* Tilting the head to the side can suggest curiosity, attentiveness, or interest.

Rubbing the temples:

* Rubbing the temples can indicate stress, fatigue, or a headache.

Chin stroking:

* Stroking the chin while in thought can portray contemplation, decision-making, or intellectual curiosity.

Arms crossed behind the back:

* This posture can indicate authority, confidence, or a composed demeanor.

Tilted body posture:

* Leaning slightly towards someone can suggest interest, attraction, or engagement in a conversation.

Biting nails:

* Nail-biting can reveal anxiety, nervousness, or tension.

Foot tapping:

* Rapid or impatient foot tapping can show agitation, restlessness, or eagerness.

Squinting:

* Squinting the eyes can signal suspicion, doubt, or an attempt to focus on something.

Shifting weight from foot to foot:

* Shifting weight can imply discomfort, unease, or anticipation.

Covering the mouth while speaking:

* This gesture can indicate hesitation, embarrassment, or the desire to hide something.

Remember that body language can vary across different cultures and individuals, so consider your character's background and personality while describing their movements. Additionally, body language is best used in combination with dialogue and internal thoughts to create a more nuanced portrayal of your characters.

Happy writing!

[incognit0slut]

Since hearing Streets by Doja cat (silhouette remix) I always thought if I ever had the chance to striptease for someone, that would definitely need to be the song playing in the background, the rhythm is so sensual. So can I request a smut with Spencer centered around this song?

Love your blog and tiktok edits, and congrats for reaching 3k! You deserve it!

tysm lovely hope you enjoy this🫶 (wc) 3.1k!

warnings: (MINORS DNI!) Reader is a stripper, lap dance, pantyjob, a lot of grinding lol

Play our fantasies

The FBI agent visiting your workplace wants more from you than answers to his questions.

…we play our fantasies out in real life ways…

"THE FBI IS WAITING FOR YOU," your boss said the moment you stepped down from the stage, his voice a low murmur amidst the pulsating beats of the club. Your clients varied from politicians to well-known celebrities, but you never had the chance to entertain an authority before.

Your boss rolled his eyes as he gripped your arm, navigating you to the VIP lounge. "He's not here for that."

"Oh?"

"He's here to ask some questions," Teddy explained as he released his hold, motioning you to follow him. "Said he wanted to know about one of your regulars."

"My regulars? Who?"

He gave you a sideway glance as you both strode to the back area of the club. "Dennis."

You raised an eyebrow. "Dennis Meade?" You asked. "That lawyer? He hasn't even been here for over a month."

Your boss shrugged. "Maybe that's why the FBI is looking for him, only god knows where he is."

"It's always those quiet ones, huh?" You jested, your heels clacking on the marble floor. You stopped for a moment when you passed a wall that was covered with mirrors, fixing your hair through the reflection. When your boss noticed he was walking alone, he turned around and gave you a disapproved look.

"He's only here to ask you questions."

"I know." You smiled, delicately smearing off the subtle lipstick mark that had smudged over your lip line from the dance routine you performed on the pole earlier. Satisfied with how you looked, you made your way back to Teddy.

"Is he cute?" You asked playfully.

"Y/n."

"I thought we weren't supposed to use our real names on the clock."

He sighed, the ambient lighting casting a soft glow on his exasperated expression as you both continued to walk down the hallway, the distant thump of music reverberating through the walls.

"Angel," he pressed sarcastically, emphasizing your stage name. "Doctor Spencer Reid is keeping his identity discreet, so don't attract any attention to him."

"Doctor?" You mused. "Thought he was a cop."

"FBI agent," he corrected.

"Tomato, Tomahto." You finally stopped at the entrance of the VIP area, a line of doors covered in drapes separating each private space. "Which one is he in?"

"Corner left at the end." He gave you a pointed look. "It's better to stay with him according to your usual private session, lessen any suspicion."

You smirked. Spending half an hour in a room with an authority sounded intriguing. Teddy rolled his eyes as he saw the look you gave him. "No funny business, Angel."

"Of course not, Teddy," you assured him, giving him the most innocent smile you could muster.

He shook his head and took a step back. "You're trouble."

With a playful wink, you pushed open the door to the VIP area and stepped into the dimly lit space. The ambiance shifted from the bustling energy of the club to a more intimate setting. The smell of burning wax filled your nose in the form of vanilla-scented candles as you made your way to the corner suite.

A man stood in the middle of the room, his scrutinizing eyes scanning the small platform in the corner with a pole planted on top of it, but as he heard your footsteps, he turned around and met your gaze.

Your eyes slowly assessed him. His features were sharp, his gaze piercing, and an air of confidence surrounded him. There was something magnetic about his presence, an unexpected allure that contradicted the stereotypical image of an FBI agent. You were never this close to an FBI agent before, but were they supposed to be this attractive?

As the door closed behind you, the muffled sounds of the club outside were replaced by a peculiar intimacy. Especially when his eyes roamed your body, taking in the lingerie top barely covering your breasts and the thin silk panties you chose to wear today.

"You must be Angel," he greeted, watching you intently. The dim light accentuated the subtle nuances of his expression.

"And you must be Doctor Spencer Reid," you replied, injecting a subtle hint of playfulness into your tone. "What brings the FBI to our humble abode?"

"Spencer, please." His lips then curved into a faint smile. "I'm here on official business. There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you."

"About Dennis Meade, I presume?"

His eyebrows raised slightly, acknowledging your astuteness. "You're well-informed."

"It's part of the job," you responded with a casual shrug. You took a moment to assess the situation before nodding towards the plush seating. "You should take a seat, Dr. Reid."

He did as he was told, but his eyes went wide when he noticed you stepping onto the platform instead of following him. "What are you doing?"

"I was told you didn't want your identity to be known," you said as you gripped the pole. "There are cameras everywhere; I'd say it would seem suspicious for the security to see I'm only talking when I should be working."

He watched as you started to move around the pole, your movements deliberate and gracefully controlled. The ambient lighting cast a subtle glow, creating a surreal atmosphere within the room. The pulsating music from the club outside, its tune slow and seductive, provided an unexpected rhythm in the closed space.

"This way, it seems like just another part of the show," you continued as you swayed your hips seductively. "Now, what did you want to discuss about Dennis?"

Spencer's gaze followed your every move and you watched as his tongue flickered along his bottom lips. "We believe he might be involved in something that requires our attention."

You leaned back, arching your back in a sultry pose. "Dennis hasn't been around here for a while. Why the sudden interest?"

"It's not the first time he's come under our radar," Spencer explained, his tone measured. "We're trying to locate him to gather more information."

"I can't say I know much about him," you replied. "There wasn't anything particularly noteworthy about him, at least not that I'm aware of."

Spencer absorbed the information, his expression thoughtful. But it was hard to keep his mind on the case he was supposed to be investigating when your moves became more daring as you leaned down, actuating your luscious hips that were barely covered with that thin string of fabric covering your sex. Then his mouth dried up as you turned around in front of him and fully bent over, exposing the delicious curve of your ass.

He tried to steady his breathing. "Any peculiar behavior… conversations, or associations you might recall might help."

You twirled around the pole again, a moment of contemplation before you spoke. "He kept to himself mostly. No unusual conversations that stood out. As for associations, he didn't seem to have any close ties with the regulars here. Just a quiet guy who enjoyed the performances."

"Especially yours?"

"Well, who wouldn't?" you teased, your gaze locking with his. "I do put on quite a show."

You threw your head back as you moved again and god, it was criminally sensual, the way you danced, unlike anything Spencer had ever seen before. He couldn't put into words the allure you possessed. When you ran a hand over your skin, dipping into every curve, he was unable to hold back any longer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. 

"It seems that way," he murmured, his voice dangerously low as he leaned back in his seat.

His jaw then slacked open, heavy breaths being ragged out as he got a better look at you when you started to approach him. Your hair shone under the lights, red-painted lips ghosting upon your lips as you straddled his lap. You leaned into him, placing a knee on each side of his thigh to press into the thick, leather chair. 

"Is this also part of the show?" he softly asked.

You chuckled, the sound low and sultry, matching the tempo of the music. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't." The palm of your hands slid over his arms, sending warmth along his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. "Depends on what you want it to be, Dr. Reid."

You swore you could see his muscles tense when your fingers glided over his shoulder, and with a sharp inhale, his head fell against the seating. He was even more handsome up close. He had soft skin, a sharp jaw covered with a soft stubble, and brown-colored eyes that shone underneath the fluorescent lights.

His breath caught as you moved in closer, the distance between you diminishing rapidly. The proximity between you two grew more intense, and his initial purpose of discussing the case became a distant memory. 

Your lips hovered close to his ear as you whispered, "Do you want me to continue?"

Spencer's mind raced as he struggled to maintain composure. The unexpected turn of events left him breathless, his professional facade gradually giving way to your seduction. It was as if his fantasies were playing out right before his eyes. Having you perched on his lap, the intimate proximity, the charged atmosphere—all of it seemed to align with his imagination.

Then a low, almost invisible, "Yes," escaped his lips.

The single word carried a weight that hung in the air as if the room itself was holding its breath. It was enough of an answer as you slowly lowered your hips. Your thighs parted for him, and you pressed your center against him, letting out a low gasp when you felt how hard he already was.

It shouldn't have surprised you, after all, it was the usual reaction to every man you had to entertain. Maybe it was the unfamiliar setting that had you growing hot; to be on someone's lap who was a high authority, someone who was here for work, someone who wasn't even paying for your time. Yet you couldn't help it, especially when his hands found your hips, urging you to move.

You obeyed, beginning to press your aching cunt against his bulge, rocking your hips softly back and forth. As you do, your silk panties slid over his pants, earning a hiss from his parted lips. You couldn't help but smirk as your palms pressed to his shoulders, offering stability as your hips rolled against his body.

You felt the warmth flooding between your thighs as you grind your folds against him, earning a few twitches of his hips in return. You would normally call in security if any of your clients touched you inappropriately. The club patrons could touch, but there was a policy of grabbing, holding, or leaving marks. 

And what Spencer was doing surpassed all the rules. One, he wasn't even a client, and two, you would be in trouble if you were caught enjoying this. Your job was to entertain people, not be entertained. Yet you were far too gone to think of the consequences. The fear of getting caught still weighed on your mind, but with your throbbing clit pressing to him as you rode him, the worries diminished faster than they could build.

You couldn’t deny the bliss that filled your body. Grinding against him had you lost in the moment, legs beginning to quiver as his fingers pressed into your hips harder, head falling back, curses pouring from his lips. His nails began to press to your flesh and it should have inflicted you pain, but instead, you were even more drawn to him that you reached for his belt.

"May I?" You whispered, eyes locking with his. He wasn't sure it was the wisest idea to submit to whatever plan you had in mind, but he found himself nodding, and a few moments later you were already busy undoing his pants.

Your fingers hook into the band of his briefs next, urging the fabric down with assistance from him as his hardened cock spring free. He bit down on his bottom lip, anticipating your every move a second before your fingers wrapped around his girth. Slipping your grip to his swollen, reddened tip, a hiss spilled from his parted lips, and then your palm slid back down his length as his hips pushed forward into your grasp.

"That—" He struggled to say, too focused on the way you dragged your palm up and down his length. "That feels good."

This earned you a smile. He felt thick and warm in your grip and your eyes instantly took in the sight; of his hard cock pulsing in your hand, of his brow creasing as you continued your movements. You watched as his tongue swiped over his lips again when your other hand reached for your panties, slipping the silk to the side, enough to ease his cock between your folds before adjusting the fabric back in its place.

You both let out a gasp at the feeling of him pressed to your flesh, trapped by the tight fabric holding him in place. You nearly lost your mind just as he did the moment you began to rock your hips once again. Juices dripping from your center made it effortless to slip back and forth over his cock, and with your arousal coating his flesh on the underside, and your silk panties caressing him on the other, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He held you in place as his hips met yours frantically. God, you were such a dream; Spencer couldn't believe this was happening. You were such a fantasy. Every moan escaping your lips seemed to cast a spell that held him captive. It was wrong of him to fully enjoy this, yet he couldn't help but be mesmerized by you.

The way you moved along his throbbing cock was such a sight to see. Or the way your head fell back as you satisfied yourself, your jaw slacking as you looked at him through hooded eyes. Your soft whimpers begin to flood his ears, and it urged him to give you more as he told you how fucking good you felt, how fucking wet you were, and how fucking beautiful you looked, even with your hair sticking onto your face from all the sweat.

Fingers brushed loose strands of hair from your eyes and it took so much of your self-control not to kiss him. Kissing your clients was another one of the policies, and it was something you shouldn't even consider of breaking, so instead you focused on the growing heat that stretched along your core.

Your hips increased their pace, rolling against him to offer the both of you relief, your clit swelling with a need for release as you felt his cock pulsing between your wet folds.

Your thighs began to shake around him, giving him the courage to pump his hips a few times, catching you off guard. Gasping, you arched your back, continuing to move your hips over his, using him to find release as his cock rested between your folds and the fabric of your silk panties. You felt yourself growing hot, needy, aroused, dripping along his length, making the sensation all the more electrifying.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your entire body trembling. “I-I’m gonna come.” 

“Come,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “Come on my cock, Angel. Let me feel you.” 

His words sent a rush of electricity through your body, out to every tingling limb and curled toe, and there was nothing you could do but lose the last shred of control you were holding onto. Your moans poured from your lips louder than before, but you had a hard time caring as the bliss swelled within you. 

You called out his name, again and again between desperate whimpers and gasps, thighs tightening around him as you rode out your orgasm, not slowing your pace until the wave washed over you.

When you relaxed against him, he took hold of your body, wrapping his arms around you as he began to thrust from below, fucking himself between your soaked folds and silk panties. After a few moments, you grew completely weak, allowing him to take control, allowing him to hold onto you, allowing him to use you to get off until the moment a sharp inhale filled your ears.

Thick ropes of white spilled from the hem of your panties, soaking through the fabric and coating your flesh. His breath stalled for a moment before he released another exhale, head falling back as his hips attempted to keep thrusting, yet he lost all momentum as the pleasure took hold of him.

You sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, surprised by the way his hands brush delicately over your hips, skimming across your lower back in a soothing motion. "What time do you get off tonight?"

You met his gaze. "Late, as usual," you replied, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "Why do you ask?"

Spencer hesitated for a moment before answering, his hands still tracing soothing patterns on your back. 

"I was thinking... maybe we could continue this later," he admitted, his voice a low murmur. "In a more private setting."

You raised your eyebrows. "Is that part of the investigation, Dr. Reid?"

"It could be," A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Or maybe I'm far from done with you."

“Oh?” Thoroughly amused, you hummed. "Is that so?"

He nodded and looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "Tell me what time you get off."

It wasn't a question anymore; it was a demand, and a shiver ran down your spine. 

God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to taste him, no, you needed to taste him. You had never craved someone as much as you did now. Maybe it was the unmistakable glint in his eye or the way he spoke to you then that had you caving in, or maybe it was the thought of his cock buried deep inside your cunt that your answer slipped off your tongue without much thought. 

It was too easy for you to tell him what time your shift ended when all you wanted was for him to fuck you senselessly.

"I finish at two," you quickly responded. 

Spencer's half-lidded eyes seemed to darken, his features betraying a hunger that mirrored your own desires. "Meet me at the back exit at two, then."

A coy smile played on your lips as you met his intense gaze. Honestly, you would let him fuck you right there and then, but you had to be patient. Time couldn't move faster than you wished. 

[k4vehrtz]

⸻ YOURS, MINES, OURS

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! nanami k. / m! reader

warnings — mentions of blood due to a minor injury, soft -> mean -> soft dom! nanamin, cucking ergo exhibition bc kuna def wants to fuck you, possessive! nanami, crybaby! vessel! reader, use and variations of the word slut, established dom/sub dynamic, hole inspection, light masochism, dacryphilia, shower sex, minor daddy / sir k., implied age gap n zero prep . ✦ . wc — 1.5k . ✦ . notes — less of a fic more of a lengthy thirst bc i'm still sick but i really wanted to deliver somethin for you guys so forgive me this once 💔 happy holidays 🎄

it’s 6:15 p.m. when nanami wanders into your garden, still clad in his work attire. the first two buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie hanging loosely around his collar, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. he’s somewhere in between tired and exhausted; dark circles rimming his almost sunken eyes but he’s not quite ready to pass out yet. he won’t give in to the heaviness of his eyes until he sees you.

and he does see you — you’re crouched in a corner, knees buried in a miniature mountain of soil, completely and utterly enthralled by the flowers in front of you.

orchids. a dark pink in the centre, although their petals are a light pink that fades into a pink-stained white colour. they vary in intensity but altogether, they’re beautiful and pink.

“they’re resilient little things, aren’t they?” he muses, his voice thick with drowsiness. which catches you entirely off-guard and has you flinching away, scraping the palm of your hand on a nearby rose bush in the process.

you wince, brows pulled together and lips jutting forward in a pout. nanami feels his heart drop, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach instantaneously.

“fuck,” he curses, a rough edge to his voice, “i’m sorry my love,” as he crouches beside you, cradling your injured hand in his much bigger, warmer palms. it’s not nearly as bad as it seemed at first; a singular scrape stretching across the expanse of your palm. but nanami does his due diligence, wiping away what little blood had appeared with his handkerchief.

“i should’ve made my—” he stops himself mid-sentence and lowers his gaze, arching a brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. “…presence known” he continues, staring pointedly at the tent in your shorts.

warmth creeps up your throat, spreading across the bridge of your nose to either cheek and the tips of your ears as you promptly cross your legs. to which nanami presses his lips together, blowing air through his nostrils.

“that — ” he starts, grimacing, “that must be uncomfortable,” as he takes a seat on the dirt floor of the greenhouse and pulls you into his lap. and you open your mouth to protest against it; he’s going to ruin his favourite slacks. but he presses a long, thick finger to your lips before you can get a word out.

he clicks his tongue, his tone morphing from the saccharine sweetness that you’re used to. nanami isn’t, by any means, harsh with you but his near-silent disapproval is enough to have you curling into yourself.

“i’m sorry,” the words tumble past your glossy lips before you even process them. and nanami responds immediately: “i’m sorry who?” his voice becomes more and more like a rumble as tiredness continues to pull at his sore muscles. but you humour him anyway, “i’m sorry sir,” which earns you a much more content-sounding rumble from the elder man.

“that’s my boy — now let’s get you taken care of inside where it’s warmer.”

skin–to–skin; nanami’s pressed firmly against you and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. cold fingers instinctively go to the curves and contours of his muscled torso; tracing the outline of it all while you chew on your lower lip. it’s hard to tell who’s more enamoured by the other but if you had to think about it (like really hard) you’d say nanami is.

“what are you thinking so hard about silly boy?”

your nose crinkles and a muscle in nanami’s jaw twitches at the sound of the third voice. it’s nothing like the silky-smooth voice that makes your heart flip-flop in your chest. but it has its appeal and is welcomed nevertheless.

“‘kuna i’m not —” you try but he interjects: “liar.” and you have half the mind to argue with him but nanami clears his throat, thick finger curling beneath your chin so that you’re made to meet his gaze.

he’s staring down at you, warm water from the shower overhead dripping from the edges of his hair. his gaze intent as he pushes you against the cold tiles on the wall. there’s a stark contrast between the two temperatures; one that makes goosebumps appear on your skin and provides a twisted sense of pleasure. but that too is welcomed.

“none of that,” and he clicks his tongue again, his distaste for the mouth that had appeared on the back of your palm as clear as day. sukuna, though, grits his teeth and you can’t help but think to yourself that the only thing they have in common is their distaste for each other.

“your blind devotion to a man who could never satiate you is beyond my comprehension,” sukuna smirks, “a slut like you needs a real man to fuck them right.”

a slut.

an onslaught of tears blurs your vision and nanami leans in, warm breath fanning your face. then he sucks in another breath, taking in the floral scent of your shampoo, before exhaling slowly. “did you hear that baby? ‘kuna thinks you’re a slut.” he whispers, emphasizing the nickname in the most condescending way he could. and you nod quietly, obediently in response. staring up at him with those big, innocent eyes of yours that looks the prettiest when it’s wet with unshed tears.

“i know my boy’s got a greedy hole on him,” he continues matter–of–factly, “i mean look at his cock, started leaking back in the greenhouse ‘cause of my voice and now it’s fully hard because you called him a slut.”  completely unbothered by the quiet whimper you let out. 

and silence — sukuna doesn’t say anything, lips pulled into a tight line. but this does little to discourage nanami who spins you around so that you’re pressed against the tiles, sensitive pecs to glazed clay and your back to him. then he’s pulling your legs apart, spreading your cheeks so that your winking hole is exposed to him.

“in fact, let’s both look at this slutty hole that i fill with my cum as often as i like because, if i recall correctly, you’re resigned to watching.”

quiet whimpers that bounce off of the tiles turn into sultry mewls. he’s being so mean, his voice dropping by an octave or two, and it makes your cock throb. he’s crouching behind you so that he’s at eye–level with your hole and you can’t help but gasp when a thick finger is pressed against it. then he pushes it in, it’s dry and it burns but it’s (like everything else) welcomed without complaint.

“do you see that?” nanami asks, it’s a rhetorical question and even then, not directed at you whatsoever but you find yourself nodding along to whatever he says anyway. “the way it winks at me? that’s because it missed me and the way that it stretches and clenches around me? that’s because i’m the only one who can touch him like this.”

 sultry mewls turn into pornographic sobs. the way that he describes everything has your stomach in knots. it’s no longer a want but rather a need. you need him inside of you but he’s taught you better than this — you need to use your words to get what you want.

so, you do, voice breathy as you try to form words in between needy cries. salty tears trickling down your warm cheeks as you string a sentence together. “i need you,” you croak, glancing over your shoulder at him, lips quivering.

and he coos at the sight of you, removing his finger before standing upright and cupping your cheeks. “that’s right, look at daddy, only i can make you feel better, hm?” to which you nod in response and his smile widens, “where do you need me, my love? show daddy.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you nod again — immediately spreading yourself wide open with your fingers. presenting yourself like this to him, tears and all, is second nature to you. it comes naturally which he thoroughly enjoys.

and nanami groans at the sight of your hole as if it’s his first time seeing you like this and within seconds, he’s aligning the angry tip with your entrance. he brings his lips to your ears, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending warmth to your crotch. “it’s going to hurt a little,” he warns, leaning forward to press gentle kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he pushes himself inside.

he was right, it does hurt. it hurts like a bitch and it takes some time for you to adjust. nanami’s just so big; he makes you feel so full. but after he bottoms out and slowly finds his rhythm you know you’re a goner. pain and pleasure — you don’t know where one ends and the other begins but it feels good nevertheless.

you’re content babbling as he pistons his hips, balls colliding with the curve of your ass every time he thrusts into you. it’s all you need and all it takes for your cock to begin spurting ropes of cum as he assaults your prostate.

[icarusredwings]

What things smell like according to Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine. A series of smell based headcanons. Do with these whatever you want :)

People:

Ororo: burnt marshmellows, rain, chunky chocolate chip cookies, protien shakes, spansih rice, chillies, and cocoa butter. She always smells great.

Scott: cucumber shampoo, the remaints of a bonfire the next day, fresh dry cleaning, axe shower gel, lavender sheets

Jean: caramel latte, lavender sheets, vanilla spiced chai, books, mint ice cream, fruit smoothies, stinky hair product, lemon poppy seed muffins, sassafras

Hank: Books, sanatizer, various chemicals, a very specifc fur dander, kinda musky but in a 'im covered in fur and sweaty' kind of way.

Rouge: "Dolly Parton", brick and concrete dust, cherry blossoms body spray, freshly engraved wood, strawberries and milk conditioner, spicy gaucamole and freshly sizzled sausages.

Gambit: tv static, a fresh deck of cards at the casino, spicy jumbo, gin, lime jello, hair gel, "suprisingly good actually"

Kurt: brimstone, smoke from franckinsense, myrrh, a less smelling dander then hank, Holy chrism oil (olive oil and Balsam made by catholic priests), metal, and blue raspberry. Fur/ beard pomade sometimes for special ocassions.

Morph: even when changed he can smell is sandlewood shampoo, he smells like how "Jack Outta smell", latex, pine and cedar, clear nail polish, "that ugly quilt that your grandma kept on the back of her couch that was the warmest, softest thing you've ever slept with."

Charles: Old man fart, metal, chalk, shoe polish, nutmeg, wool, "a trusting hug", books, mahogany, expensive champagne.

Laura: "teen spirit", a shitty cheap "girl power" deodorant that doesn't do well hiding the sweat, apples and peaches, kinda woodsy.

Wade: Cancer, gun smoke, citrus dish soap, blood, oranges, taco sauce, infected skin once in awhile, red dye 40, slight over cooked and crispy apple pie, sugary cereal

Puppins: wet dog, dog dander, oatmeal senstive skin puppy shampoo, chicken, "the dirtest trash she can find to roll in on her walk"

Althea: Old lady, way too strong perfumes, butter biscuits, tea, peppermint candies, more cocaine, "baby powder", lanvender linens, cotton and daisy's Landry detergent.

Feelings/emotions:

Big/serious lies: smell like Gasoline and salty sand near the sea.

Small fibs/playful/ teasing lies: smell like Anise

Lies with decent intentions/are bent truths: smell like honey

Those two are easily mixed up.

Innocent (the person truly believes it. Ex. A child saying dinos are real) truth: smells like thick vanilla creamer.

Filling, whole truths (the person knows for a fact its a truth) smells: like fresh baked rolls/buns

Cancer smells vary like: urine, nail polish remover, some people have a pungent semi sweet smell like rotting fruit, and tar is another smell, depending on which part of the body. If already in late stages, one can smell like cadavers. Even spicy almost.

Pregnant people vary in scent but he can smell the rise of different hormones: Some hormones sweeter then other. If you asked him he would say cinnamon or dying roses. If you're later in your term the scents are more soft like lotion or custard. Lemon ussually.

Serotonin; cheese, lemon cakes, fruity, a bit light, and flakey like a pastry. Marshmellow fluff.

Dopamine; sweet fresh coffee, doritos(?), cocaine. Don't ask why he knows what cocaine smells like. He was alive during coke cocaine.

Endorphins; Sweaty Sex, mint, dark chocolate, violets, chemicals, varies by persons pheromones

Oxytocin; "playful cherries", freshly washed cotton pillows, the warmth of a bath, skin on skin hugs, strawberries

Joy/relaxation/relief: Jasmine, vanilla sugar cookies, fresh soup.

Anger/disapproval/hurt: smoke, the back end of a cigarette, spicy curry, iron, blood, "spoiled raw chicken left out too long"

Fear/excitment/anxiousness: Adrenaline smells like oil, paint, salty pretzels almost.

Tears: Oceans, lillies, fresh water lakes

[ddejavvu]

I need anakin to bend me in half, my legs over his shoulders with his hands intertwined above my head to hold me in place and rabbit fuck me until he fills me up with his seed and holds me upside so not a drop spills then do it all over again the next morning. and then pulls up my panties, pats my clothed pussy and tells me to go on with my day with all his cum snug inside me🧎‍♀️

keep the anakin thoughts coming please <3 just like he'd keep me comi- [gunshots]

this post is 18+, minors dni.

the part about- the- the part about... patting it. like a little reward. please i'm convulsing i need him so carnally

he spends a fair amount of time in the morning loving on you, because he's been touch/love deprived all his life and he's enamored with the concept of just being with you. But he's like a leech, and more often than not, when he gets his hands on you, he's gonna latch on and suck and take take take take take from you, so having your knees over his shoulders just becomes a regular morning routine for the two of you.

it's really very casual, too. that's not to say it lacks passion, because anakin is passion in human form, and it would be impossible for him to do anything without an underlying current of it running through his veins like scorching oil, fueling his every move. but it's routine, it's usual, it's expected.

all he has to do is tilt his head up, chin pointed towards the bedpost, and you know to wrap your hands around it and hold on for dear life. he doesn't even need to say it anymore, but sometimes a sleep-thickened, groggy 'bedpost' will fill the anticipatory silence that your blearily buzzing bodies exude.

he is a pussy !! eater !! if you're not already slick and wet and begging for his cock from whatever varying degree of foreplay he'd managed in his freshly awake state, he parts your thighs with an easy wedge of his hands and buries his face in your cunt to say good morning. he probably talks to it too, squishing his nose up against the underside of the hood of your clit and offering a murmured 'morning' to your pussy. he likes when it elicits a response, a shudder of your spine, a fluttering clench around the slack ring of his lips, and he's more than happy to tongue-fuck you open in preparation for his cock. he's rutting it against the bed, ignoring the squished discomfort in search of stimulation that you can give him so much better.

he eats you out the same way he kisses you; a confident, probing tongue and a lot of spit. so much, in fact, that you can't tell what of the foamy residue he sucks up and spits back out onto your cunt is your own juices, or his. but it's wet, disgustingly so, and it's enough lubrication to aid in his master plan.

once you're sufficiently wet and ready, he doesn't hold back. he's been grinding against the stiff mattress for too long to take it slow, once the crown of his cock breaches your eager hole he's blacking out and going all in. his hips start at a jackrabbit's pace instantly and don't slow until he's pulling out of you, a relentless rhythm that you're always woefully unprepared for in the early morning.

you always cry out things like 'ah! anakin!' or 'easy- gentle! please, ani' you sob with tears brimming in your sleepy eyes as you grip at his cheeks, trying to tame whatever wild beast has him in its clutches while your cunt sucks him in, 'easy, baby, please.'

you're lucky you can use your hands, too. because he used to restrain them with the force, something that anakin knows obi-wan would be satisfyingly disapproving of if he ever found out. but once you'd learned to keep them around the headboard, you'd been permitted to hold them there yourself, and you can get away with touching his face or clawing at his back. as long as you don't use them to shift your weight somewhere, or touch your clit, or anything that he can handle. your legs burn as he's thrown them over his shoulders but don't move them, he wants them there.

anakin's a voracious kisser, licking your mouth out and providing it with an abundance of saliva and the residue of your own wetness. it's another hole he can fuck, his tongue prodding at the suction of your throat like his dick does to your cunt. he likes making you gag on it, sticking his tongue so far down your throat that you choke. all the while his drool is leaking into your mouth, pooling and swirling obscenely with your own, and making his cock twitch inside of your sloppy cunt.

he's very vocal during sex, but sometimes the morning sleepiness still has its clutches on him, and he's not very verbal. typically, though, he's grunting and groaning at every thrust, his mouth squelching as his tongue slides wetly against your own and his pornographic growls flowing straight down your throat and to your core.

He always holds himself back from cumming until after you have, maybe because he revels in how sensitive you get while he's still pumping his cock into you like you haven't just finished and spasmed around him. he usually spills warm, thick loads of cum into you not long after you work through your own orgasm, the feeling of your climax pushing him to his own.

but he doesn't slump down onto you, he doesn't roll over, he doesn't go fetch a washcloth, no. he slides his strong hands under your hips, one flesh and one durasteel, and lifts your hips off of the mattress, folding your stomach in half and keeping your cunt elevated.

His seed spills obscenely from its clutches but he prods at it with sloppy, haphazard fingers and licks them clean once it's no longer spilling outside of you. he wants it to sink into you, he wants it to take and be trapped in your cunt for the entire day. he knows gravity isn't on his side in that wish, but he dips down to nudge and kiss it between your puffy lips, tasting it on his tongue as he pushes it further into your sex.

when he's satisfied with its placement, he takes your underwear, sliding it over your ankles and hiking it up to your waist. it takes a little maneuvering to secure it under your ass, but once it's there he pats over your now-clothed, still filthy pussy, offering up an appreciative, 'good job, angel'. you can't tell if he's talking to you or your pussy but your brain is simultaneously exhausted and on fire at the same time, so you let him get up and shower for the morning while you recover beneath the bedsheets. when he leaves for his duties he drops a kiss to your lips, much more chaste and quick than it had been before, and tells you to have a good day, pretty girl.'

and that's it.

like he hadn't just fucked you raw and rough into the mattress. like your hands don't have imprints of the bedpost on them.

'have a good day, pretty girl.'

[girlgenius1111]

just let go: chapter 4

Misa finally get her turn with you. Jenni is kind enough to share. Alexia doesn't enjoy not being the center of attention.

18+

warnings: strap on use. double penetration. anal. praise & degradation. dom / sub dynamics. orgasm delay / control. breeding kink. [i think that's it?]

haven't yet thanked everyone for sending in their very DETAILED requests. i truly appreciate it, it makes m job so much easier. also thank you to @vixwritesagain for giving me good ideas and generally being an Orgy Inspiration™

-----

Alexia's hands bat away Misa's own as she attempted to secure the harness to the younger woman's waist. It was an enticing sight, significantly more enticing than it should have been; the blonde's long fingers expertly tightening the straps over the goalkeeper's powerful thighs. As soon as Ale was done, Jenni was directing everyone where she wanted them. This was her show and everyone knew it, although there were varying degrees of defiance in all of you.

"Misa, niña bonita, lay on the bed." The striker turned her attention in your direction. "You, amor, on top of her, ass in the air."

Jenni barely gave her girlfriend a glance as she gave the blonde her instructions.

"Ale, there," Jenni instructed, nodding to the side of the bed not currently occupied by you and Misa, a fair distance away from anyone else. It was clear that Jenni had no intention for Alexia to participate in the next thing she was planning. You bit back a smirk, watching the blonde fold her arms, pouting slightly. Alexia caught your look anyway, and turned her glare towards you. Hastily you leaned down, pressing your lips to Misa's, quickly getting lost in the kiss, and forgetting about the blonde woman sitting a few feet from you.

Jenni wasn't paying attention to her girlfriend either, as she positioned herself behind you, hands just finding your back before she was interrupted.

"Jenni."

The forward still paid no attention to her girlfriend, stroking softly at your back.

"Jenni," Alexia called again, more insistently, and definitely more whiny this time. You and Misa broke apart, watching as, slowly, Jenni turned her head to face her girlfriend.

"What do you want, needy girl?"

Alexia's face grew red, not enjoying the extra attention, as she glared at the striker. "If you are in her ass, and Misa is in her pussy, where am I supposed to be?"

"Not everything needs to include you, amor. You just sit there and watch, yes?"

Alexia made a disapproving noise, sitting up more as if to move closer to the three of you. A single raised eyebrow from Jenni had her frozen in her tracks.

"Everyone else has watched, bonita. Are you going to be good and take your turn? Or are you going to be a brat, and make me punish you in front of our guests?"

Alexia scowled but sat back down on the bed. She was within touching distance of you and Misa, something you were sure she would take advantage of, once Jenni's attention was properly occupied.

"Listo?" Jenni asked, her hands beginning to spread you apart.

You nodded eagerly, jolting when you felt a lubed finger pressing against you. It slid in easily, as Jenni had already had it in before, and you exhaled happily, resting your head on Misa's collarbone.

"Misa, inside." Jenni instructed, and this time, you moaned in surprise when the goalkeeper obeyed, sliding into you all at once, her lips finding your pulse point, and sucking gently. She began to move right away, calloused hands lifting your hips, before bringing them back down.

Jenni stopped her though, shushing you softly as she pressed another finger into you.

"No, let her feel you inside her. Let her get used to it, before we fuck her wide open."

You looked down at Misa pleadingly, but the brunette had a smirk etched across her face, one you were sure Jenni was matching. Misa's hands held your hips down on her cock, as the forward worked your other hole open. Her fingers were long, reaching deep inside of you. Misa's strap was a stretch to begin with, one you would have struggled to take if you weren't so wet. Jenni's fingers were a lot, too, but it only felt good. Until a third finger teased over your rim, and you shifted, whining deep in your throat.

"You can take three." Jenni encouraged.

Until this point, the keeper had been content to watch you as you took Jenni's fingers, but she was getting impatient. Her hips bucked unconsciously, and you arched your back more, a sharp breath escaping your mouth.

"Not yet, Misa. Just let her sit on your cock. It makes her so desperate, so needy." Jenni's mocking tone made you blush, her words only making it worse. It was a good kind of humiliation, the kind that made you crave more. "We need her wet if we're going to fuck her at the same time."

It was this reminder that made Misa relent, and she settled for tugging your face away from her neck and pulling you into a kiss. She could feel it every time Jenni pressed deeper into you, feel the little breaths and sighs you let out into her mouth. Your tongue tangled with the goalkeepers, her mouth moving rhythmically against yours as you tried to relax your muscles, allowing Jenni in further.

"How do you feel, bonita?" Jenni asked, the hand that was not stretching you open running up and down your back soothingly.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily. "Full."

"Full? No, not full yet. Alexia, grab my strap." 

The ease with which the blonde did as her girlfriend asked would have been highly suspicious, if only anyone was paying attention to her. All three of you were rather preoccupied, though, Misa holding you down on top of her strap, Jenni working 3 fingers inside of you. 

Jenni was rather startled, then, when Alexia didn’t just hand her the strap. Instead, she took the initiative to yank Jenni back away from you, capturing her in a messy, wet kiss. The forward was a willful person, but there wasn’t anyone on this earth strong enough to deny Alexia when she was handling them so roughly. You whined when Jenni’s fingers left you, but she paid no mind, keeping her attention on the pliant blonde pressed against her. 

The midfielder’s hands secured the harness and dildo around Jenni’s hips, not needing to see what she was doing to get it on exactly right. The brunette broke the kiss after a minute smiling wolfishly at her girlfriend as she took the lube out of the blonde’s outstretched hand, and began to work it over her cock. 

“Back to your spot, mi amor,” She instructed. Alexia only frowned, shaking her head. 

“No.” She murmured, leaning back in towards Jenni’s face. 

“No?” Jenni asked dangerously, leaning away from Alexia as she raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend’s defiance. 

Something on the other woman's face stopped her from reacting like she normally would, and Jenni didn’t protest when Alexia moved to kneel behind her, wrapping her strong arms around the forward’s lean figure. If Alexia was ignoring Jenni’s specific instructions, it was clear that the midfielder needed the contact badly, and though normally strict with her girl, Jenni was not one to deny her something that she needed. 

Still, Jenni paid Alexia very little mind as she turned her attention back to you, though she did tilt her neck just slightly, allowing her girlfriend better access to leave soft kisses on the skin there. 

Misa had taken full advantage of Jenni’s distraction, very carefully working herself in and out of you, stopping when the forward turned her attention back in your direction. You were pliant in Misa’s arms, content to rest your head in the crook of her neck. That is, until you felt the blunt head of Jenni’s strap pressing against your hole. 

You’d never taken 2 before. You’d taken fingers and a strap, yes, but this was an entirely different beast to conquer, and Jenni knew that very well. You would have been nervous, if there was any room for it. Squished between Jenni and Misa, though, and feeling one of Alexia’s hands splayed across your back from behind her girlfriend, you weren’t anything but excited. 

You were already stretched wide open on Misa, truly dripping all over her, and Jenni hadn’t switched to the strap until she was absolutely sure you could take it. The stretch would burn, but you could, and would, take it. 

“You want me, bonita? Misa stuffing your cunt full is not enough? You need me to fill you up too?” Jenni cooed, pressing the head into you, just barely. Jenni wouldn’t ever risk your comfort, she would take it slow until you begged her to speed up. You could only groan deep in your throat at her words, and Misa exhaled sharply at the sound. It was taking everything in her not to grind up into you. 

“I asked you a question, cariño,” Jenni murmured, pressed in an inch further, though her nails raked down your back warningly. You shivered at the touch, struggling to find your voice. 

“Need you too, J, need you both,” you managed, the words a soft mumble against Misa’s neck. 

Jenni’s teasing didn’t relent. “Where do you need me, huh?” She pressed in more, enough that you were beginning to really feel it, feel both women inside of you. Her hands gripped your hips now, and the slight movements she was directing had you clenching around Misa’s strap. 

“In my ass, Jenni, please,” you whimpered. At this, Jenni pushed herself all the way in, to the base, groaning herself at the sight in front of her. 

“Tan apretada,” the forward said through gritted teeth, her head falling back onto Alexia’s shoulder, even as her cock stayed buried deep in you. 

“Fuck, jesus,” you cried, hands gripping onto Misa’s sides. 

“Shh, you can take it,” the keeper reassured, very tentatively fucking up into you, smiling to herself when you let out a keening whine, one that was unmistakably expressing your pleasure.  

Jenni and Misa kept very different rhythms inside of you, but it didn’t matter, you felt your orgasm building within you. Jenni’s was a slow rock, never pulling out too far before pushing back in. It wasn’t the action of the fucking that made it good, it was the stretch, the burn, the feeling of being so fucking full. Misa’s pace was steady, though, quickening every minute that you fell apart on top of her. 

Everyone was very focused on their roles, the room quiet except for the wet slide of both cocks in and out of you, all three of you breathing hard enough for it to be audible. One person, though, was not very busy. Alexia’s chin was resting on Jenni’s shoulder, and she was watching, as her girlfriend had instructed. Alexia could tell you were getting close, unsurprisingly, by the way your legs were trembling on each side of Misa, and the soft, quiet whines that were just barely escaping your mouth. 

“Cariño,” she sang softly, her voice a soft lull washing over you. You hummed in acknowledgement, and Alexia smirked at the sound. “Are you close bebita?” 

“Mmm hmm,” you replied. You were, and the feeling was almost entirely overwhelming. If an orgasm was a wave, this felt like a tsunami was about to wash over you, and you already felt your body beginning to tremble and jerk uncontrollably. 

“You going to come for us? Make a mess? Already dripping all over Misa’s pretty legs, I bet you feel so good, huh?” Alexia and Jenni had a way of speaking to you that made you fold completely. Even if you hadn’t already been close, Ale’s words would have pushed you there. 

The alternating thrusts in each of your holes grew faster, harder, until a loud smack was sounding every half second as each girl pressed into you more aggressively. You were so close, the feeling threatening to swallow you whole, when Jenni moved her hand from your hip, threading her fingers through your hair and tugging hard. 

“Jen- god, I’m gonna come,” you moaned. Misa’s lips attached themselves to your neck, unable to help herself as she took in the absolutely dazed look on your face, eyes half shut, tears leaking out of the corners. 

“Come, amorcita, I want to see you come for me,” Jenni rasped, and she’d barely finished talking before you were screaming her name, words almost unintelligible as your body shuddered. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything more than hold tightly as you tried to breathe through it. Jenni and Misa stilled deep inside of you as you tightened down on them, until they could barely move. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried, nails digging into Misa under you as you grinded down softly on her, working yourself through potentially the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced. It was so much, too much, two cocks filling you completely. 

“Jen, out,” you gasped, needing the stimulation to ease if you were going to be able to go again anytime soon. 

Jenni listened instantly, delicately pulling out of you. Once she was no longer pressed against your ass, your legs gave out from under you, Misa’s cock slipping out as you collapsed completely down on top of her. 

“So fucking good for us, tan bonita, tan perfecta,” Misa whispered, her voice softer than you’d ever heard it. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, securely holding your trembling body to hers. The post orgasm bliss quickly took over, and you turned your slightly as your head cleared a bit, at the sound of a familiar whine from next to you. 

Jenni had moved quickly, getting her girlfriend flat on her back and settling in between her legs before you’d really even noticed. Ale looked completely gone, head thrown back into the pillows as she breathed hard, fingers laced in Jenni’s hair. It was, perhaps, this sight that somehow made your aching cunt ache in a different way. 

You needed more. You weren’t sure how, but you needed it, deep inside you. You needed Misa to fuck you like she normally did, not in the slightly held back way she’d just done. You needed Misa, your Misa, who made you come until you thought you might explode. Misa had never been one to deny you either, and you turned back towards her, resting your chin on her chest, waiting to speak until her brown eyes met yours, tearing away from the encapsulating sight next to you. 

“M, I need you to fuck me,” you told her, watching as a familiar smirk tugged at her lips. 

“You sure you are ready?” She asked, soft Misa poking out, for just a moment. 

“I’m ready, please baby, I need you so bad,”

Misa had you under her on your stomach within a second, yanking your hips until your ass was high in the air, face pressed into the mattress below you. 

“Just fucked you full, and you already need more? Fucking slut, just for us.” Misa said roughly. She knew what you liked, and knew what you could take, and you weren’t surprised at all when Misa lined herself up, thrusting into you all at once. It coaxed a long, drawn out moan from you, still so sensitive from before, the sensation still a perfect one. 

Misa fucked exactly how she looked like she fucked. Hard, fast, hands grasping at handfuls of your ass, muscular thighs working herself inside of you at a truly athletic pace. Everything around you was forgotten, Alexia’s cries and the sound of Jenni’s tongue lapping against her girlfriend fading away until it was just you and Misa. 

“C-close,” you warned. It didn’t even occur to you to be embarrassed at how fast they were making you finish, the pleasure forcing every coherent thought from your head. 

“No,” Misa growled, speeding up. With every thrust she was grinding into you, the pressure perfect on her clit. She’d been worked up for a while, and the sight of you underneath her, hands gripping the bed sheets as if your life depended on it was getting her so very close. “No, you come with me. You come when I fill that pussy up,” 

“Misa, I’m gonna,” you said, tensing every muscle in your body in an effort to hold off like she wanted. 

“No. Not until you beg for it.” 

You knew exactly what she was asking for. 

“Fill me up, Misa, please baby, I need you to fill me up,” you were practically shouting, voice scratchy from the strain on your throat, but it was precisely what Misa wanted to hear. 

“Come, fucking come for me, mi zorrita perfecta,” 

With one last thrust into you, Misa grinded in hard, sending her over the edge at the same time as you. The keeper collapsed on top of you, her orgasm ending significantly before yours did. The force of it had you practically convulsing under her, having entirely lost the ability to form multi-word sentences, you repeated Misa’s name like it was the only word you knew, the only word you’d ever need to know. Your skin was sticky with sweat under Misa’s, but she didn’t care as she pulled out, rolling you gently onto your side, and settling herself directly on top of you. 

“Mi buena niña, tan perfecta para mi,” she whispered, enjoying the soft whimpers still working their way out of your mouth. It took her a minute to remember that you both were not, in fact, alone in the room. She was past the point of embarrassment, though, the other two women seeing far more of her than she’d ever thought she’d allow. Carefully, as not to jostle your quivering body, Misa twisted her head to find Jenni resting her head on Alexia’s stomach, satisfied smiles adorning both of their faces. Alexia looked properly fucked out, and Misa wondered briefly how she’d missed what must have been a loud performance from the midfielder. You were done, very clearly so, eyes half shut under the comforting weight of your brunette, cheeks flushed, an incredibly content and relaxed expression on your face. Alexia, too, looked content to never move again, her hands resting possessively on Jenni’s back. 

Jenni, however, was looking at Misa with a glint in her eye, one that Misa had only seen once; right before Jenni was about to fuck you open. There was still a thick tension in the room, one that you and Alexia clearly were no longer feeling, but one that rippled between the forward and the goalkeeper all the same. Jenni wasn’t done with Misa, not even close. 

-----

🙃 one more to go.

[solbaby7]

I Dare You

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings:prolly some typos, kinda douchebag!cass but very minimal, sexual tension, swearing, mentions of drinking, (literally have any of you ever gone bull riding before? bc that shit is not for the weak)

summary: Cassian doesn’t think you’re capable of letting your hair down to have some fun. I dare you to prove him wrong.

—

Someone must’ve laced your drink.

They had to have.

It was the only logical explanation for the unusual feelings beginning to churn knots in your gut the longer you took in the handsome planes of Cassian’s face.

Usually, it was easier to overlook when you were sober, too off-put by his demeaning comments and endless sexual innuendos to truly focus on the sharp cut of his jaw or the stubble that resided there. The tempting plush of his bottom lip captures your focus, its glistening from the cheap beer overflowing his cup and the foreign thought of what they would felt like pressed against your own evades your senses.

You blame it on the ambiance.

This place was no Rita’s, not nearly as cozy or tucked away but something about the clubs hypnotic hues of rich purples and soft blues casting over Cassian’s cheeks had your head slowly tilting to the side in silent appreciation.

Had he always had that dimple when he smiled?

“Truth or dare?” Mor yells over the thumping music, effectively breaking you free from your trance and stealing your attention. A bright grin is plastered across her face induced by the empty shot glasses on the table before her.

Your head shakes on instinct, not nearly as prone to letting loose as the rest of the Inner Circle. The outfit alone was far enough out of your comfort zone as is, allowing Mor and Feyre to use you like a baby doll; curling your hair and applying makeup over excited giggles and shared bottles of bubbly. The borrowed fabric sticks to you like second skin, its halter neckline more comfortable than you’d care to admit and the cool breeze of passerby’s on your exposed back is welcome. The tight bodice blends seamlessly into the flowy skirt that tickles the middle of your thighs, showing off more leg than you usually cared to bare but it had looked too nice against your figure to complain. “I don’t really—“

“Don’t even bother,” Cassian interjects, a beer clutched in one hand while the other rested lazily on the back of the booth. “She always says no.”

“That’s not true.”

It was.

You blamed it on their High Lord’s inability to complete his paperwork and file them properly afterwards. When you’d first arrived, there had been centuries worth of paperwork strewn about his storage room in no true order with the subjects varying from treaties and common laws on trade routes to pages worth of detailed documentation dividing up ownership of land. Blueprints for potential and current properties with box after box of receipts kept to keep track of the billing it took to run such a place—much less a whole city.

Simply put, you’d been stuck in work-mode; refusing casual outings and generous offerings of chilled bottles shared over dinner for months until you’d finally made a dent sizable enough to satisfy you. There’s no point in bothering to explain any of that to Cassian though, biting your words over the rim of your glass and the burn on your tongue is soothed by the sweet mixer. “Oh really?” He goads, a cocky glint in golden eyes as he leans forward, shoulders straining in the dark cotton of his shirt . “Answer her then, truth or dare?”

There’s a long pause—one long enough for Rhysand to clear his throat, fully prepared to diffuse the situation but your voice cuts through before he can. “Dare.” It’s spoken stronger than you feel and you muster up the courage to meet his eye as if you hadn’t just been gobbling up the miles of endless muscle packed onto his body.

“I dare you to let loose for once in your boring little life.” Feyre scoffs her disapproval at his wording, a hand smacking at Cassian’s arm but he doesn’t react as if he can even feel it. He’s utterly fixated on you, body language lax and still somehow emitting such a domineering presence it makes your feet shift in high heels. “Unless you’re too prude to even let your hair down?”

A brow arches and you ignore the burn creeping up your neck at the looks your friends are sharing, clearly having a mental conversation on who was going to have to intervene this time. Saving them the trouble, you comply. “Fine.” You’re too occupied in chugging the remnants of your drink to notice the surprised expression crossing the General’s face. He doesn’t miss you though, witnessing a mischievous darkness clouding your eye before you rise from the booth and squeeze through the endless sea of bodies.

“I don’t understand your problem with her,” Mor grumbles with distaste, a hand outstretching for the latest round of drinks being provided by the waiter. “She’s nice.”

“She’s boring,” Cassian promptly retorts, eyes sifting over the crowd in search for a flash of your dusky red dress but it’s nowhere to be found. His spine straightens ever so slightly, the grip on his glass tightening in his silent surveillance for you. “When you said you were hiring a female who’d be around so often that she’d be living with us, I hoped she’d be more…eventful.”

“Is that truly your reasoning, brother?” Rhys drawls out playfully, tugging his mate in closer to his side. A glass of whiskey is in his free hand, tilting the bottom of it tauntingly in Cassian’s direction as he pretends to ponder. “Or maybe it’s because you keep antagonizing her in hopes that she’ll notice you and yet she barely gives you anything back in return? Her passiveness must eat you up at night.”

It earns the High Lord a few laughs and even Azriel can’t hide the amused upturn of his mouth at Cassian’s expense but the Lord of Bloodshed can’t even begin to be bothered with that.

Not when his sights finally land on that sinful shade of red gripping at the curves contained within them. Cassian can’t even hear his family anymore, eardrums tuning out everything that wasn’t you as he watches the way you lean in towards one of the nicely dressed workers with a smile. The exchange is quick but Cassian doesn’t miss a thing, noting the challenging quirk of the males brow and he leads you behind a thick curtain that sectioned off a portion of the bar he hadn’t even noticed until now.

Words can’t describe the way losing his visual on you makes his skin itch, wings twitching with his irritation and the tense line of his shoulders doesn’t release for even a second. A plethora of thoughts plague Cassian’s mind. Surely you hadn’t taken his jest as an invitation to go be with some other male? Even if it would’ve been well within your right it was the furthest from his intentions.

“Run out of witty remarks?” Rhysand prods further, voice full of humor but there’s a hint of serious questioning lingering in his eye. “Or have I stunned you to complete silence?”

Feyre catches on quicker than her counterpart, following Cassian’s line of sight, watching as the same curtains you’d disappeared behind starts beginning to rise, a thundering chime ringing through the bar. “I don’t think it’s you who has him speechless.”

The others follow her gaze and quiet fascination sets root when more space is revealed. Situated right in the middle of the newly revealed stage is what seems to be the magical apparition of a fake bull, complete with horns and a nose that huffed out smoke. It’s one hell of a spectacle that has the inebriated crowd cheering with joy at the promise of such extravagant entertainment. “Trouble is in the house tonight. Let’s welcome her warmly.” The male announces, guiding you into the light and spinning you around for all to take in.

Cassian’s teeth grit together, disturbingly aware of every eye and muttered comment directed your way and his fingers twitch for the familiar weight of his sword. “No way...” He whispers in complete disbelief as you approach the bull with a practiced ease, hoisting yourself on its back with the swipe of your leg.

The motion is fluid, thighs shifting to get situated and the new position hikes up the hem of your dress. All the bare skin that is revealed makes his mouth water, elbows leaning against the table to brace himself.

Your gaze finds Cassian’s easily in the crowd, a devious smirk forms in the corner of your mouth and the wink you send his way has his cock twitching to life in his breeches.

Music flows through the space—a sensual tempo with a bass so deep it rattles the very blood in your body. There’s no explaining why you find such a comfort in it but you submit to the numbness it provides anyway, relishing in the absence of thought as you melt into the beat.

One hand latches securely around the saddle and the well-dressed employee begins his skilled control of the bull. It’s a slow rock, movements mechanical and jerky but you make it look graceful—hips shifting back and forth over and over as the speed increases. You barely look up, too caught up in synchronizing your body with the music, spurred on by the generous cheers from the other drunken fae with energy to burn and coins to spend.

Faster and faster the bull rocks, spinning you from left to right but your remain saddled in place, core strong and thighs braced for the chaotic jostling. Haughty whistles cut through the crowd when the bull abruptly tips forward, shifting the fabrics of your dress until you were face down, ass up and flashing the lacy boy shorts you had on underneath. “Come on,” You whine prettily to the male in control of the mechanism, hair spilling to one side of your face and a pretty blush fans across your cheeks at the salacious exposure. “That all you got?”

“Hold on tight.”

You’re grateful for obtaining the good sense it takes to heed the warning because in an instant the bull is jerking back to life, spinning and rocking in an attempt to shake you off. Jubilant laughter pelts free, hair blowing in the wind and dress flashing more of the soft skin that Cassian was just dying to get his fill of.

He’s been bested—that much the Commander can admit but it doesn’t feel like a loss when you feed his filthy fantasies without even trying. The roll of your waist will surely plague his dreams but the effortlessly seductive glint in your eye will haunt him to his dying breath.

It doesn’t dissipate. Not even when you finally tap out, easing yourself down on shaky legs and shuffle back to the shared booth with a breathy huff.

A peachy sheen has overtaken your cheeks at the bewildered stares your friends give you for your performance but the mess of your curls splaying around your shoulders has Cassian’s heart racing when imagining the others ways he could put you in such a state.

The others watch in complete silence as you steal the beer right from Cassian’s hands, cool condensation dripping down your fingers but you pay it no mind. “It seems that I am plenty of fun to be around,” He watches the slow roll of your throat as you swallow, unable to look away. “But that’s usually reserved for after hours.”

Cassian’s gaze darkens under the implication, lids heavy with desire. “Noted.”

[love-bitesx]

ugh think of like just jamming out to music (like upbeat rap/hip-hop) and hobie just being like wtf got you so happy and u give him one of ur earbuds and he can't help but jam with u (let's be honest here tho he'd try to pretend like it sucked ass just to mess with u). I just love this man♡⁠♡

also i love ur writing so much it makes me wanna cry (but happy tears) thank youuu!!!

: ̗̀➛ STUBBORN. hobie brown x reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

thank u angel for the kind words !! ur amazing, thank u for the req!!

“what you smilin’ at, darlin'?” hobie looked down at you, slipping his warm hand into yours as he sat beside you.

it wasn’t uncommon for him to tuck you into his side, swinging you both onto the top of a bridge, building or any structure that overlooked london – it was one of your favourite things to do. take in the sights of the prepossessing skyline, cozy with your lover above the crowds and anguish of the city below. hobie would relish in seeing you so peaceful.

he was sat next to you, legs dangling off the edge, playing with your fingers, guitar discarded on the concrete behind you, though he would usually play for you when you were both alone.

cross-legged, you sat with your phone in your lap, one earbud in, the other dangling across your chest, blasting a new playlist you’d constructed. you’d been absentmindedly bobbing your head to the beat, a minute hum sounding in your throat.

“oh, uh,” you read aloud the song name and artist, too distracted to see hobie’s look of disapproval, “do you wanna listen?”

looking up at him, you caught his rather annoying what-do-you-think expression, to which you rolled your eyes.

“don’t be so stubborn,” you picked up the second earbud with your free hand and offered it to him, smiling when he reluctantly took it. he knew the music you listen to was incredibly varied, often a wide range of artists he’d never heard of. your music collection at home was eclectic, and he was almost convinced you had a song for any scenario possible.

sighing, he popped the earbud in, being met immediately with an unfamiliar melody.

“‘the fuck is this?” he muttered, a displeased expression etched onto his face. if you didn’t know him so well, you’d almost be offended, but you just smirked to yourself and continued playing the song.

a minute or two pass and you’re humming the tune again, tapping your fingers against the back of his hand. turning your gaze to him, you almost cheered at the sight you were met with.

looking down, hobie sat with his eyes closed, his head bobbing along to the beat. he almost looked impressed. smiling, the innocence of the moment warmed your heart. he was in his own world, peaceful and gentle, his hand in your lap tapping along with you. you knew he’d like the song, that’s why you put it on.

“see!” you squealed with excitement, squeezing his fingers, his eyes shooting open, “i knew you’d like it!”

he didn’t even answer at first, just huffed and turned his head from you. he didn’t wanna see your beaming, satisfied smile, knowing you’d read him like a book.

“it was alright, i guess.”

giddy, you squeezed his hand tight and cuddled into his arm, the feeling of his cuffs not even phasing you as the excitement flooded, and he was fighting battles not to turn and tease you for it.

finally turning back to look at you, you had your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped up in his, your legs swinging mindlessly off the concrete ledge. leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, earning a tiny content sigh from you.

“what else do you ‘ave on there?”

[finniestoncrane]

do you think you could write something where the reader is taking a shower and captain boomerang steals their panties and jerks off in them and the reader catches him and thinks its hot?

Violations

General!Boomer x GN!Reader, word count: 1k hello yes please are you kidding me this is literally? a dream come true for me lmao i want him to gross up my everything ;-; request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: privacy invasion, panty theft, cum, voyeurism, he pisses but not in a kinky way to anyone but me lmaooo

With Digger, there was a complete disregard for your personal space that you found foul, annoying, and, annoyingly so, deeply romantic. It was like he had a need to be near you, constantly at your heels, arms always around you, hands forever touching and grabbing and groping. It could be endearing, sometimes. You wondered how much of it was loneliness, the kind that he would deem too emotional and vulnerable to bother discussing. Most of it, though, you assumed was down to his incessant need for anything physical. And still, some of it, was likely down to how much he liked you, how much he enjoyed your presence and company, and though he wouldn't admit it, how much he might even love you.

Even so, there were plenty of times when a bit of privacy really would have been preferable, in fact, expected. For example, when you were taking a shower, and the last thing you wanted to hear was George Harkness, sighing in relief as a strong, steady stream of piss splashing into the toilet.

"Aaaaaaah!"

"George!"

"Yeah, babe! Just me!"

You tutted to yourself, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of the shower running. Standing at the toilet, admiring himself in the mirror, Digger shook off his cock and pulled up his grey sweatpants before making his way to the shower.

"I know it's you, idiot! Why are you in here?"

He pulled back the shower curtain quickly, taking a long look at you, his piercing green eyes taking you in from top to bottom and back again before he spoke.

"I had to piss. Problem with that?"

As he let his lascivious gaze fall back over your body, you looked to the hand that held the curtain.

"Can you really not be without me for more than ten minutes?"

He grinned wide, eyes glinting as he silently adored you, not quite willing to admit how much he enjoyed just having you nearby.

"And did you even wash your hands?"

George let go of the shower curtain, holding it aside with his shoulder as he brought his hands to his face and sniffed them. He grimaced a little, then shrugged with a nonchalant pout.

"It'll be fine!"

Something seemed to catch his attention as he brushed you off, and before you knew it he was retreating behind the curtain and rushing out of the room.

"Take your time, babe! I'll be fine without you for a bit longer. Have a luxurious wash, I'll dirty you up again once you're done."

You couldn't see him, but you could almost feel his wink as the bathroom door closed. Your thoughts quickly returned to the shower, only briefly wondering what he could be up to before realising that pondering over the many and varied options opened you up to the opposite of relaxation. And back in the bedroom, Digger was definitely getting up to something he thought you might disapprove of.

From the floor of the bathroom, he'd snatched up a pair of your panties from the pile of dirty clothes you'd shed before starting to wash. He brought them to his large, crooked nose, burying his face in them as he inhaled deeply, allowing himself to fall back onto the mattress with them still held to his face by his palms.

Lifting his shirt up, he ran his fingers through the thick body hair that covered his chest and stomach, allowing his fingers to graze softly over his stiff nipples, only stopping when he realised his mischievous giggle might be overheard by you in the shower even over the running water.

Shifting down the front of his sweatpants, Digger let his cock bounce free, clenching and tensing his muscles to watch it twitch, hissing at his arousal at his own erection. With the front of the underwear against the flat of his palm, he gripped his length and began stroking. The soft fabric felt pleasant against his shaft, making him shiver as it skimmed over his sensitive, flushed head.

He teased himself, closer to the edge as he delighted in this slightly filthy act. Stealing your underwear. Using it to get himself off. Maybe he wouldn't just toss them in the laundry when he was done. Maybe he could put them back in the pile on the floor, let you discover what he'd left in them on your own. Or maybe he could hold them up as you entered the bedroom. Watch you slip them on, wearing just them on your otherwise naked body, dripping, hot, his cum sticky, slightly cool against your freshly clean lips as you pulled the underwer up against you.

The thought of your body, tainted by him, watching you squirm as you got used to the feeling of his slick against yours, got him to the edge, muttering and moaning as he felt himself reaching the climax.

"Fuck yeah... dirty... little cunt... you like that... fuck..."

"George!"

Eyes wide he looked up to you, before they closed involuntarily as he felt his body tense, his cock erupting as hot, white ropes of his cum spilled onto his hand and his abdomen. When he'd finally finished, gasping or air, a lopsided, but self-satisfied grin spreading across his lips, he looked back over at you.

"You good, babe?"

Taking in the view, you noted your underwear, still in his hand, his fingers curled around them, digits and fabric coated in his seed. Your stomach flipped, hard to define whether it was excitement and arousal or disgust at yourself for what you were about to say.

"Toss those over, I need something to wear."

Throwing his head back into the pillow, he let out a deep chuckle and threw the underwear towards you. You could feel the damp in your hand, smell his scent as you brought them closer to you. As clean as you were, you wanted to feel dirty, wanted to feel him on you, keep him with you all day. The perfect accessory.

[yuyinesque]

everyone stfu rn — black!inumaki headcanons, right? now imagine him communicating in soul food instead of japanese cuisine. i have a new list for him. us niggas must follow said list.

greens — okay/or his way of agreeing or affirming.

canned greens — its like “okaaay…” but more disappointing; it gives “ight nigga…”

okra — no/or his way of disagreeing or disapproving.

macaroni — him expressing uncertainty; the tone and context varies.

banana pudding — this depends on context. it could express excitement or apprehension. either way he may or may not be attempting to quickly grab someone’s attention.

sweet potato — him expressing genuine satisfaction; this is less in an excitable way and more-so content.

chitlins — sorta like a curse word; aahhh CHITLINS (like shit or fuck; normally expresses defeat, shock, or annoyance, but could be humorous on some occasions).

chicken — look out/keep an eye out; this could mean in a literal sense or simply “stay safe” or “walk good”, but in that context he would likely utilize “fried chicken”.

potato salad — are you alright/you good? … usually in a concerned tone.

candy, yams? — “nigga, what?” (LMFAOOOOOO).

watermelon — i’m fond of you/i love you. if he says “watermelon seed”, he’s likely expressing it in a more romantic sense rather an a casual, platonic sense.

& fufu — fufu is a LAUGH! like fufuufufufuu; it’s how he giggles!

i’m still coming up with more; y’all come help me. feel free to reblog/comment ideas, or perhaps make your own hcs based on your own cultural foods <3.

[anam-mana]

Tips for “Good-Aligned” Astarion Romance/Approval

I see a lot of people saying they find it difficult to romance Astarion on more good-aligned play throughs (though bg3 doesn’t have an alignment system but you all get my drift).

I was able to do so fairly easily, on my first play through as a goody two shoes (or as much so as a Dark Urge can get) and I noticed some things that may have made it easier to do without sacrificing any in character goody-two-shoes decisions.

And this is the biggest one. Be nice to him, and be incredibly patient with him. Even though he occasionally expresses disgust with you acting “sweet”, overall being a saccharine ball of love to him wins you way more points than you’ll lose by being kind. He values positive personal interaction way more than he values agreeing with your decisions,

He does actually approve of some good decisions: petting owl bears and feeding an urchin in Baldur’s Gate being some examples. And more than that, he REALLY approves of tricking your way into peaceful resolutions, to the point where I have gotten many inspiration dice from him simply for avoiding conflicts. Also, any time you have a chance to support someone’s free will, do it. He varies from not having an opinion to approving in most of these cases. So really lean into those good actions he tends to approve of, though I admit they usually are later in the game.

Sometimes he’ll disapprove of the steps you take to make it to a good choice, but approve of the outcome. This applies to things like the hag quest, where you can lose approval but win it back at the conclusion, or through the non-violent path with the Orthon where he disapproves if the peaceful conversation but approves way more of the outcome than he ever disapproved of the conversation.

Be willing to disagree with him, and challenge him, even when it does get you disapproval, because, frankly, the push and very interesting unique dialogue he has with goody-two-shoes PC’s he’s in love with can be fascinating and informative, even if it means running into some bumps here and there.

Remember that this is just some tips for people who find the prospect of keeping Astarion approval high on a good play through daunting or challenging. I know I see a lot of memes and such that make it appear that only evil and/or grey characters can really get into this romance when I’ve seen firsthand that it is just as cool and possible with even the goodest of beans, so I wanted to share. But it is not, IN ANY WAY, meant to be a guide on how one should romance him. There are multiple paths to romance that can be played differently to create very custom PC/Companion ship dynamics in this game, and I encourage you to explore whichever narratives will be the most fun or fulfilling to you personally.

[zapreportsblog]

How would (any twilight character) react to reader having a tongue piercing?

Oooh a reaction :) how wonderful so ima do the Cullen family for this one

Edward Cullen :

Edward Cullen might express concern or disapproval since he tends to be protective of those he cares about. He would likely worry about the potential risks or discomfort associated with tongue piercings. However, his reaction would ultimately depend on the dynamics of their relationship and how open they are to discussing such matters.

Esme Cullen :

Esme Cullen would likely react with her characteristic warmth and acceptance. She might inquire about (y/n)'s decision and show genuine interest in their feelings. Her response would likely be supportive, emphasizing that (y/n) should make choices that make them happy while also ensuring their well-being.

Carlisle Cullen :

Carlisle Cullen would likely react with an open-minded and understanding demeanor. He's known for his calm and rational approach. He might express curiosity about (y/n)'s decision and inquire about their reasons. While he might have some concerns about potential health or safety issues, he would likely focus on having an open and respectful conversation to ensure that (y/n) is making choices they're comfortable with.

Emmett Cullen :

Emmett Cullen would probably have a playful and light-hearted reaction to (y/n) having a tongue piercing. He might tease them in a good-natured way, cracking jokes and making fun comments. However, deep down, he would likely be supportive of their decision and respect their choices. His reaction would likely involve a mix of humor and camaraderie.

Rosalie Hale :

Rosalie Hale might have a more skeptical or critical reaction to (y/n) having a tongue piercing. She's known for her strong opinions and can be protective of those she cares about. She might express concerns about the potential risks or question the motivation behind the decision. However, her reaction could vary depending on her relationship with (y/n) and whether she's willing to have an open conversation about it.

Alice Cullen :

Alice Cullen would likely react with curiosity and excitement about (y/n) having a tongue piercing. She has a fun and adventurous personality, so she might see it as a unique and interesting choice. She might even playfully imagine how it could impact their future decisions. Overall, her reaction would likely be positive and open-minded, focusing on (y/n)'s individuality and expressing her support for their choices.

Jasper Hale :

Jasper Hale might have a more reserved and thoughtful reaction to (y/n) having a tongue piercing. Given his empathetic nature, he might be attuned to any discomfort or unease that (y/n) might feel due to the piercing. He could be concerned about their well-being and might offer calming and reassuring words. Jasper's response would likely reflect his consideration for (y/n)'s emotions and his desire to ensure their comfort.

[paperstorm]

Just something hits so good about how Tyler belongs only to Carlos. Owen doesn't call him that. I semi-head-canon that Gwyn did but canonically she doesn't really, she called him Tyler Kennedy! in that disapproving mom way where she's middle-naming him but she never called him just Tyler. Carlos found out what TK stands for a week into knowing him and he decided he was gonna earn the right to call him Tyler and he did and no one else has ever gotten that. Others get varying pieces of TK but only Carlos gets Tyler.

[wlwanakin]

hi keaton! thoughts on anakin and obi-wan’s relationship if anakin left the order for padmé and the kids? the mess and fallout is so interesting to me and no one ever talks about it

i’ve been thinking abt this a LOT bc i chronically keep writing stuff where obi-wan and anakin don’t talk anymore lol and a falling out feels like such an inevitability with most “fix it” scenarios that people just straight up don’t consider?? and i do find that annoying. any scenario where anakin leaves the order for padmé (and the twins) would cause a rift (of varying size, depending on the circumstances) and i don’t think it’s an unfixable one but i do think that to get to that idealistic uncle obi-wan point everyone loves it’d take years and a lot of working through things and a lot of Talking About It, which obi-wan is generally not super fond of as he processes approximately one emotion a year, so it’d be a laborious process and he is not going to be attending the twins’ first birthday party.

throughout the war obi-wan is aware of anakin and padmé’s relationship and he’s fine letting them have it, and honestly i think that might make things worse if anakin found out bc it’s instance #2517485857 of obi-wan refusing to vocalize support for him, and also would not soften the general disapproval for anakin Choosing To Leave. and that is a bit explosive! as most things are with anakin really. bc obi-wan did let anakin have that but he is also extremely steadfast in his belief that anakin Needs the jedi, that they’re his family etc and obviously there’s the responsibility aspect of it all and i’m sure he’d make that known and that’s gotta be an infuriating thing to hear from someone you’ve always yearned for familial affection from but never gotten a sufficient amount of it from. and i do think anakin’s rots novel mindset of “my wife and kids are my family, not you guys” would cross over, along with the resentment buildup, and…well! they certainly wouldn’t be parting amicably.

i think the specifics of how long the fallout lasts, how severe it is etc really depends on the specifics of the scenario. like if we’re talking an au where the clone war is still raging there’s a much bigger sense of abandoning duty and i think it’s also harder to process the moral ills of your closely held religion when you’re smack in the middle of them and you kinda have to push all your growing disillusionment aside and keep clocking into The War every day and i think that might lead to a worse and longer-lasting relationship rift, just because too much shit is happening at once and no one has processed anything and why would they wanna process more things. a peacetime scenario would probably fare only slightly better, though i think how much better highly depends on how obvious the moral rot of the order becomes to obi-wan due to whatever circumstances led into ambiguous happy au, and frankly if he doesn’t let himself process his own disillusionment then anakin’s is going to continue to be incomprehensible and that disconnect will continue to make his perception be “you abandoned your religious moral obligation” which is not gonna fare well!! obviously!!! especially if obi-wan’s loyalty to the order remains to such a degree that he expects the twins to be brought to the temple.

in General i think anakin leaving would leave to an explosive fight where obi-wan tries to talk him out of it, and maybe they do stay in contact in whatever strained limited way they can or maybe they don’t but it can’t really be The Same. they do love each other and i do think that deep down they want each other in their lives and that is the main reason i don’t think a fallout between them would be permanent but like i said at the start it would be laborious to get to a point where they’re actually close again. they have to Communicate Their Feelings, they have to close decades old wounds, obi-wan has to admit his wrongs and express affection in a way that is actually remotely normal, anakin has to actually sit down and process things that happened to him, entire worldviews must come into question, like it’s not really gonna be fun for either of them (esp for obi-wan). and i really think this is the kind of thing that has to take years bc anakin needs time to heal from his Everything and obi-wan needs time to come to terms with the fact that hey maybe his worldview was not correct? maybe the order he gave his life to is not entirely noble? and neither of these things are things that come easy. and while those things are happening it’d probably be better for them to not talk bc any talking they do would probably be incredibly unkind lmao