#I was like no effing way man

[platypusisnotonfire]

How many calories is it reasonable to burn in a day (extra calories, like above your base metabolic rate)???

I’m PRETTY sure my watch is glitching cuz it used to show something normal like 200 normally up to like 900 on a busy day

Then I didn’t wear it for a few years and now it’s giving me daily readings of like 1000-3000 on a busy day.

There’s no way I burnt 3000 calories in a single day right? This thing is broken.

#my only explanation is that I used to work at a library #but now I’m a gymnastics coach #and it’s very much not like a school gym coach standing the the side with a clipboard #I am very much demonstrating moves and form and spotting athletes by catching and holding them in mid air #moving 100lb mats around all day #etc #but STILL #3000 sounds physically impossible #calories #one particularly long 10hr workday the watch was telling me I needed to eat like 4800 calories to break even #I was like no effing way man #1. that’s got to be wrong 2. how could I consume that much I would have to eat an entire cow #I think I ate like 1400 lol and that’s a lot for me #if this isn’t a glitch this could explain why I’m losing mad amount of weight lately #but like #it’s got to be a glitch #fitness watch #maybe the thing is just too old and is losing functionality

[simmerandcry]

I need Matt/Jen content asap it’s all I can think about

#the way that man was lost for words when he was leaving the bar????? have you ever seen Matt Murdock like that???? #i want to DROWN in them #the man is also so effing hot I cannot #matt murdock x jennifer walters #she hulk spoilers #she hulk #she-hulk spoilers #matt murdock #jennifer walters #daredevil x she hulk

[fideidefenswhore]

Sorry for bothering you but I would like to know ,what is your interpretation of Elizabeth ,Edward and Mary’s relantionship? I heard a lot of stuff and I wanna know your opinion

Also ,the quote about you picking Anne for a girl’s night ,in which book it is ?

Aaah, errrm...again, I might update this in more detail later, because I have a lot of thoughts on this. (He said, before going Full Meta Pretentious)

And you are never bothering me. Sometimes I have spoons, and sometimes I don't.

Broad strokes:

Mary had conditional affection for her siblings so long as she did not see them as a threat, and so long as they were not significantly empowered. So, this is why she seems to have had more tenderness towards Edward while he was Prince rather than King, why she seems to have not had affection for Elizabeth until she was disempowered in 1536 (and then, lost it, once Elizabeth was her own heir and very beloved by the people).

She was also holding, as one of the Acts during her reign makes clear, the belief that they were bastards, and she was not. So she always felt an inherent superiority towards them that's underlying the affection...it's a sort of patronizing affection, really. It's not less authentic for being so, just more complex. There's also the likelihood that this has been nurtured by her faction, who seems to have held a long bitterness towards the memory of AB in the existence of Elizabeth, to the literal death-- among Margaret Pole's last words were an exhortation for those in attendance to her execution to pray for the lives and souls of the King, Prince Edward, and Princess Mary...Elizabeth was omitted. Did she believe she was not the King's daughter, or was this an implication that Edward & Mary were the only 'legitimate' children? Had Fitzroy been alive during this time, we could maybe better understand her intent behind this, had he been omitted as well, unfortunately we don't know.

Edward believed himself superior to both his sisters, but seems to have been more patronizing towards Mary, despite being the younger, even before becoming King. There's not an equivalent letter about Elizabeth to the one he wrote about Mary, where he's scolding her for dancing so much and such. But, he's in-waiting to becoming the most important man in the kingdom (arguably, he is that, as his father is the past, and he's the future), and has been told that it's his place to be the moral standard and instruct his future subjects. This is all part and parcel of that, although one wonders if there's some insecurity underlying all this, because Edward was very intelligent, and he wouldn't have been unaware that much of Catholic Europe believed Mary was legitimate.

Elizabeth he's closer to in age, Elizabeth he's brought up with, Elizabeth he's educated alongside. Elizabeth was always more conformable than Mary, and seems to have genuinely revered him both as Prince and as King. So, Edward's affection for Elizabeth was probably less complex than his for Mary (which turned mainly to resentment). On the other hand, he did eventually write her out of the succession, which is where the superiority comes in (although we don't know if he would have done so in any context...had Elizabeth married a Protestant, had Elizabeth had a/ child/ren by 1553-- specifically and 'better', a son-- I think it's entirely plausible he would have made her, at the least, regent to her child in his will).

Onto Elizabeth...Elizabeth believed herself Mary's superior insofar as intellect, and perhaps even her equal or better, insofar as birth. She might have believed that by the terms of her father's Succession Act (one condition of which was, Mary would maintain the Henrician settlement insofar as the Anglican Church-- something Mary reversed), she was entitled to the throne. Mary was both her persecutor and savior: she arrested her, but she also released her. She then tried to place many conditions upon her freedom, including marriage to men of Mary and Philip's choice, not Elizabeth's. Ultimately, she did not disinherit her, and Elizabeth's transfer to power was as smooth as it was, in large part, because Mary relented and maintained her as heir.

They were also all (although not equally) bonded through being motherless, and being completely orphaned at the same time, also, although at very different stages in their lives. Mary is the only one that truly had any memory of her own mother, was this something they envied? Edward was the only one that truly had the memory of his mother openly honored and revered, was this something his sisters envied? For Elizabeth and Edward, it's another bonding point, although probably not ever one made explicit, or actually discussed: they're off-center, they are only half of what they 'should' or 'would' have been, because half of what made them is no longer there. Did they have this sense that neither could escape, of an absent filial imprint, of the palimpsest of what was there before, desperately searching fresh ink? Of absent or unfulfilled identity, of absent maternal protection?

What do you do when your father is your god? How do you comprehend your world when he's not there anymore?

|

That's from an interview of both Julia Fox & John Guy, about their dually authored book, Hunting the Falcon. The quote is about AB, although personally if I said it, it would apply to Anne of Cleves, as well.

#redrosesandcharmingsouls #but yeah mary had a much firmer sense of her mother. it was undeniably tragic that she was separated from her at fourteen #on the other hand; fourteen was the age of maturity then. so technically she had known her mother as both a child and an adult #smth neither edward or elizabeth really had in the same way #also: albeit edward was in a very different situation #he didn't have a younger brother as arthur did #the kingdom was literally without a prince besides very briefly henry nyp for nearly thirty years #but this is part of why i sort of am always like...lol. #@ basically the idea that arthur tudor was perfect and would reign over a comparative utopia as king #arthur was also told he was the most important man in the kingdom since he was a literal infant. #i am sure he could sometimes be an asshole. he just didn't live long enough for us to be able to point to anything specific #whereas hviii was told this at what. eleven? #and we see what happened there. so like. jesus effing christ #at the pastelification of every single arthur tudor lives AU #imagine how TIRED we are......

[pagesofkenna]

trying to explain the connection between Outer Wilds and Disco Elyisum, two mystery-solving video games that have completely f'ed me over, emotionally, in these last two years, and I think it is:

Outer Wilds is a game that does a very BIG thing, with a BIG thing to say, that seems too big to name but i can describe it. i could describe the conclusion i reached, the feelings i had, the path through the mystery, and it wouldn't hit as hard as experiencing it firsthand but i believe you would at least understand what the big thing is and why it if effecting

Disco Elysium is a game that does a very small and very specific thing, with a small but important thing to say, and i could tell you what it is but i couldn't describe it. i couldn't make it sound nearly as weighty as it actually feels. i could tell you the mystery and how we went about solving it, i could tell you what my takeaway was, and at best you'd be like 'ok, cool detective story'. i couldn't do any better

#not to be all esoteric about this but like. thats the thing about art man #im a very direct and literal person i prefer a story that just tells me what it is over poetic imagery description silliness #but sometimes... the most direct way to bring someone to the point youre trying to make or the place youre trying to show them #is through the artwork. and it takes SO much effing work! #i dont have that kinda patience! thats why i prefer editing over writing! #but like. the 'message' of OW isn't any pithy one-line moral i could give. its the whole experience #its like. you could say the punchline of the joke but it would never be funny if you didnt do the work of the setup #except instead of a joke its me sobbing at the end of DiscEl because i solved a murder

[wantitmore]

.

#i cant ever imagine working as an ef won journalist... like imagine interviewing all of these out of touch people #news flash sports dont exist in a vacuum. who gets to be there and who cannot be is political in itself. simply the act of sports journ #is political too #very clique-ish industry. stuck in their racist archaic ways. 😹 #and actually writing 300-500 words on what a rich rectangular has-been of a man thinks is political or not. must be excruciating but also.. #maybe stop giving more platforms to these dickheads? especially if they make no sense at all

[abraxos-the-phantom]

Practiced Suffering

a/n: i'm in a mood

tw: mentions of gun violence and school in relation to each other; vague mention of a previously encountered situation regarding another teacher and student (though not necessarily involving affairs of any kind) reader's descretion is advised

Yan Fenglang realized very early on that the meaning of pain, the meaning of suffering, was very different here than what she remembered.

Here, pain was hurt. Here, pain meant being hit - being slapped - being stabbed. Here, pain was a tangible thing usually caused by something or someone else. Here the suffering of society only so far extended into the higher ups, the people who decided on what is to be done and how to get it done. The people who held and managed resources and held the duty of ownership.

Here, reputation was key - yet not in the way Yan Fenglang knew. There was no presence of anonymity, no concept of personas in the way that she knew. The delicate dance of society and propriety was a much less complex version to the one she knew.

For a woman born into a time where words meant more than their definitions, for a woman born into a day and age where mental fortitude is a valued strength, it almost seemed rather mundane.

"Work Hard. Play Hard."

She always felt the saying infuriating. The meaning made sense, good hard work always made for a more satisfying rest, yet in her world 'hard' could often be confused with 'suffering'. Hard meant dealing with unreasonable customers. Hard meant taking the abuse of superiors for fear of losing income and therefore safety. Hard meant struggling to decide the line between helpful and unhealthy.

Work hard play hard.

Even if she couldn't see, she needed to fire.

Even if she couldn't read, she needed to learn.

Even if she struggled to breathe, she needed to run.

She did. Even if it meant suffering.

What choice did she have? It was the way of her world, it is the way to survive. Suffering is a fact.

Until it wasn't.

In another life, Yan Fenglang cracked. In another life, Yan Fenglang would have raged to the heights of suffering and pain unlike never before seen, for this world has not yet seen a suffering so well endured. This world held no concept of the fragile mind hastily patched by platitudes of the well-meaning; this world was one of physical labor still.

Yan Fenglang's world was one of mind games and mental facilities. Yan Fenglang's world was one where a single income was calculated and split, Yan Fenglang's world was a massive test in patience and control. A constant battle of necessity vs. want to a scale beyond comprehension. Yan Fenglang knew exactly the thing to say to get something or to get out of it, she had undergone training of how to talk down the frantic and the crazed, the ones with little else left to tether their fragile sanities.

She was a teacher of her world, so she knew how to organize bunkers. She knew how to train children to hide in small spaces and not make a sound, she knew how to explain to a child how disguise their presence with the blood of another. She knew the exact words to coach a child on how to best deal with a gunshot. She knew how easy it was to never realize you had been shot in the first place.

She knew how to file a police report against a fellow professor.

She knew to backup incriminating evidence.

She went to the gym only because she needed enough strength to pull a great amount of weight with little to no issue. She knew a lot of things.

Her world was not easy, and neither was the one she found herself in. But sometimes, sometimes she was happy she was no longer where she was.

Sometimes, she was glad she died and escaped it.

#i have thoughts #specifically on the difference between stimulus in mdzs and this world SQQ and Airplane and YFL came from #they both have their issues of course #but it keeps me up at night realizing that YFL only knew how to take over Sect Leadership because it would be pretty close #to managing your own house #SQQ too #might not be a good teacher #but the man knew how to fake it well enough #and also the fact that YFL would have been an American Teacher #cus the crap we can go through here is...different #not worse or better #just different #like imagine if YFL met OG!JGY or JGS #they may be nice #but so are people who are not sometimes #I'm just saying some people have a vibe and YFL could absolutely sense rancid manipulator like an blood hound #now remember that YFL has also been trained in lockdowns #can you imagine how effed up it would be to realize the thing she tells kids out of some vaugely forgotten habit became useful #during the burning of lotus pier #can you imagine the realization that she's disaster prepared only because her world was a little worse in some ways #can you imagine how infuriated she would be at the Wen Massacre with everything she knows about genocide #again - only because she knows it can get even bigger and worse than it was already #she would crack hard #she would just break mentally #maybe even worse than WWX #cus at least he might think its the worse it's gonna get #not YFL tho #she knows it can get worse #and the fact that she wouldn't really be able to do anything would make her crack so badly #add in identity crisis on top of all that shit

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hiiii!!! Babes wow I’m so IN LOVE with the way you write soft Miguel!!! It’s the cutest effing shiz 🥹 I go very weak in the knees for a big grumpy indifferent man that is so dang painfully soft for their girl it’s such a huge turn on for my heart 😩 I also came to share that I’ve been imagining Miguel overhearing reader talk about how she’s never had a secret admirer and then a few days later she finds a red rose w/a lil note addressed to her. From a distance Miguel & Jess watch as she parades her lil rose around the others all smiley and Jess asks if he’s gonna tell her and he murmurs “let her have her little admirer” Like that mans got it baaad 😮‍💨

hiii!! omg stop it, that’s so fucking sweet!! thank you! and me too!! I love mean cold grumpy men that have a soft spot for their girl, like embarrassing soft and mushy for her!! it’s my weakness😩 that is the cutest idea. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

secret admirer

miguel o’hara x f reader

wc: 722

part 2 -> here

You were never usually one to receive spontaneous gifts from others, rarely one to have a secret admirer, so when you walk into your office and see a singular red rose with a small envelope attached, your stomach immediately somersaulted. 

A few days prior, you and Peter were talking about gifts and what he should get MJ for their upcoming anniversary, and then the subject of secret admirers arose. You mentioned how you've never been on the receiving end of those small romantic gestures and how you wished and hoped you could be at some point. To you, it was a simple flyaway comment, but based on Peter's solemn reaction, you couldn't help but think that he felt guilty.

You did ponder if Peter left it for you as a sympathy gift, but the red rose was a tell-tell sign that he didn't. So now, you couldn't help but wonder who gave you the flower. Who knew the passcode for your door? Who knew about your whereabouts? All these questions span in your mind as you walk into your office.

You reach for the rose, bringing the flower to your nose, softly breathing in its fragrant scent as you pick up the envelope. You place the flower down and glance around your office, looking through the windows to see if anyone's watching. Once you know it's clear, you open the paper and pull out the small note. 

' I heard you've never had a secret admirer before,

I'm glad to be your first. 

Spider-Man '

Even though it's tagged Spider-Man, it could be anyone. Literally anybody. Hundreds, if not thousands, of possibilities. But the one spider that first came to mind was Peter. You wanted to tell him about the strange coincidence and share your happiness about the situation. So you flag him down, rose and note in your hand as you search through HQ for him.

You finally spot him in the cafeteria with Jess and Miguel, talking over food and coffee. You hesitantly make your way over with a smile as you subtly wave over to him. 

"Sorry- sorry, do you mind if I borrow Peter real quick?" you ask, glancing between them all.

"Sure," Miguel softly smiles as he looks you up and down, noticing the rose in your hand. 

"Thank you, we won't be long. Hurry- come on," you say, tugging Peter's arm. 

"Alright, alright," he huffs, taking a final bite of his burger before placing it down. "What's so urgent anyway?" he grumbles, trudging after you as he adjusts Mayday in the Björn.

"You know how I mentioned the other day- about the secret admirer thing...?" you start, looking at him eagerly. "Well, look what I just found," you smile, showing off your rose and note. "I went into my office, and- and it was just sitting there, for me. A rose for me!" you excitedly gush, smiling widely. 

"No way?" he says, his joyful tone matching yours. "Let me see the note,"

As he reads through the letter, you glance around the cafeteria, your gaze honing in on Jess and Miguel, who were not so subtly staring at you. Suspicions rise when you notice them whisper to each other, heads together as if they're in cahoots.

"Hey Peter, can you do me a favour?" you ask, slyly leaning forward.

"Sure, what's up?"

"This might be really wrong, but I need you to do something for me. I need you to eavesdrop, please?" you say sweetly, hoping to mask the morally wrong favour you were asking.

"Seriously?" 

"Yes, please. And do it quick. Miguel and Jess- hurry,"

"Shut up then, so I can listen," he shushes you, chuckling.

He's quiet for a few moments, a slow smile creeping on his face as he listens in on their conversation. 

"What are they saying? Tell me," you ask, eyes keen as they dart around the room.

"I can't tell you..." he grins, shaking his head. 

"Why? Why not?" you playfully hound, gesturing with your hands. "Come on, please?"

"God, he's gonna kill me," he mutters. "All I heard was the end part... Jess said, 'Are you gonna tell her about the rose?' and then Miguel said, 'Let her have her little admirer. She needs it,' okay? That's all I heard,"

Your smile widens. 

The rose, it was from Miguel?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse

[ghostarii]

GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact. #hsr blade smut #hsr ren

[adhdvane]

0(:3　)～ =͟͟͞͞(’､3)_ヽ)＿ i wanted to see how far i could get on a galleon raid without using elixirs. the absolute danger...

honestly it wouldn’t have been as bad if i hadn’t FRCKED UP TWICE AND HIT FIGHT WITH THE WRONG GUARD SETTINGS. first time i ACCIDENTALLY ONLY HIT GUARD ON MYSELF instead of everyone (except seven who had an unchallenged) so Fryer and  Maya took big hits they really didn’t need. The second time I HIT GUARD WHEN NO ONE SHOULD HAVE BEEN GUARDING BC A WAS A NON-ATTACK SPECIAL AND IF I HADN’T GUARDED FRERY WOULD HAVE GOTTEN HIS SACRED SWORDS BACK AND COULD HAVE DISPELLED THE PLAIN DMG RUBBLE BUFF GALLEON GOT. honestly thought i was done when i fucked that up. but i made a choice to have maya sub all the plain dmg one turn to herself as a sacrifice so i could get judgement revived frery out for one last dispel chance and then prayed to rnjesus that the plain dmg spreads out okay and seven doesn’t get shit on completely (bc he had some real low hp for a while bc of that) (as much as i love to see seven get the shit kicked out of him... he was apparently the dps mvp of this fight). tbh tia and katz really did help pull it together at the end, katz healing boost and charge bar consumption = healing + tia’s delay and Sky-Rending Lament were live savers wwwww, the dmg output when down but survivability went up...

#sammy liveblogs about granblue #sammy be quiet #sammy no #THE FACT SEOFON EVEN HAS 24K HP THERE AT THE END IS A MIRACLE BC THAT MAN GOT DOWN TO LIKE 6K HP AND I WAS LIKE #HE'S GUNNA DIE AND IM GUNNA BE SCREWED BC NO ONE IS GUNNA BE ABLE TO BUILD CHARGE BAR #to be fair seofon did the most damage bc he got to fckin ougi 20 times arguably had to guard the least #him and i both never died and i beat him out in normal attack dmg #ACTUALLY BASED ON THE MATH #his average ougi was about ~1mil more than mine #and he ougied 7 more times than me #and our difference is about ~7mil #so tbh we're pretty even on dps rate bc it's probably mostly just i had to guard more than he did #and he has self instant ca skill #yeah if i look at raid data from yggy hl and alexia #his dp is just a little below mine #and yggy data from before the 5* there was a larger disparity #so the 5* put him closer to having dps comparable to me using rb #i mean IF MAYA STAYS ALIVE SHE FCKING MAKES US ALL LOOK LIKE WEENIES #she just didnt make it all the way through the galleon raid lol #which is partially my fault bc she probably could have lasted longer if i hadNT EFFED THE EFF UP TWICE #long post #dont mind me im just rambling sdkjfhskdfs

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

the way Pearl instantly slammed down her "check out Marina she's so ***ing AWESOME" line so fast and it's the smoothest verse she spits in the rap battle-

she was SO READY to gush about Marina she was SO THERE for the chance and when it came she didn't even have to THINK

her going from casual barely-worth-my-time roasts and boasts (talking over Frye's turn like she isn't even there) to 'did you just call marina an imaginary friend?? YO ARE YOU CRAZY SHES AMAZING'

and THEN instead of getting defensive or pissed at Frye's 'oh so she's your groupie' jab she just turns hype man literally goes AS IF! LISTEN TO THIS! before bowing out so Marina can freeze Shiver solid by cheerfully taking every passive aggressive compliment from Shiver with a smile, a hearts eyes emoji, and an uno reverse card

Shiver: "Your voice is so haunting (possibly in a bad way) must be nice for your fans (implying it isn't so nice for anyone else)"

Marina, mimicking Shiver's singing: "You're far too kind! (i see you insulting me on the sly) Love your vibe! (that's very cute~) I can learn so much from your style! (i'll give you a taste of your own medicine if you want me to~)"

Shiver: "You remind me of my neighbor's daughter- (grow up) what do they say? Octo see octo do? (stop copying me)"

Marina: "Glad you approve- (im rubber you're glue) your praise has left me moved (not saying what KIND of moved tho). Thanks to your notes (you decide if i mean your feedback or your actual ability to hit musical notes) I'll find my own groove! (you're not actually worth copying for real~)"

Shiver: "Oh, look at the time. Isn't it getting late? (if you keep acting like a kid im going to treat you like one)"

Marina: "Not at all! I could go on like this all night long. (what do you mean? im having so much fun right now!) (oh but is this hard for you? ...do YOU need a break...?)"

and then Pearl barges in with a HOW'S THAT? YOU HAD ENOUGH YET??????

like kudos to Shiver and Frye for laying out some slick jabs, but they were working as two solo acts and didn't have a power couple combo move to counter Pearlina's with m(_ _)m ....they spent the whole time on offensive defense, trying to inflict some deep lyrical cuts while Pearl and Marina were happily tossing out hooks and reeling in fresh lines as they floated high up above on their dumb little rainbow cloud together

legit Pearl's only real reaction to Frye is her going <3 <3 <3 at Marina, and Marina not even treating Shiver as someone she needs to fight with while Shiver repeatedly tries poking at her, which Pearl sees and just effing LOVES ....amazing.......

no matter who you think rapped better, it's pretty clear which pair had the most fun and got the most kicks out of this (the wives)

WHICH IS EVEN FUNNIER BC IT'S HONEST TO COD JUST FRYE BURSTING INTO OFF THE HOOK'S GREEN ROOM AND YELLING AT THEM FOR DARING TO HAVE A CONCERT IN HER TOWN ONLY TO GET SMACKED IN THE FACE BY A RAINBOW LASER BEAM OF GAY MUSIC I LOVE IT XD

#splatoon 3 #pearlina #pearl houzuki #marina ida #off the hook #frye onaga #shiver hohojiro #suffer no fools....

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

Okay everyone in the cod fandom thirsting over mw characters, it’s time to introduce u mfs to the black ops world cuz honestly I’m tired of the lack of appreciation and fanfics (mostly fanfics) these people get.

Lemme introduce you to some of the main baes

This mf right here is a grade a ASSHOLE but it’s why we love him. Honestly if you love effed up relationships and angst you should read some of the bell x adler fics going on. Bell is YOU. It’s the customisable character in Cold War who Russell Adler brainwashed and it’s a whole thing and it’s toxic af to pair them but I fuggin loveeee itttt (second pic posted by @adlerboi)

Alex Mason <3333 my wifey for lifey

He was brainwashed by the Soviet’s and he’s our fave lil mentally scarred old man. Seriously tho it’s criminal the lack of love this guy gets he is so handsome

Ahhh mr frank Woods. Asshole but not in the same way Russell adler is. He’s the kinda guy who would act annoyed when you ask him to hold your drink but would protect that mf with his LIFE. Would treat you right but it’s a whole ‘dick to everyone else but sweet as pie to you’ kinda vibe yk?

Miss Helen Park. Honestly we should hate her. She manipulated and brainwashed us alongside adler but would I kiss her on the lips? Maybe possibly yes. Nuff said

The CRIMINALLY underrated navy seals commander david mason. Yes he’s alex masons son yes we keep it in the family here. He has some mental scars like his father but honestly who doesn’t?! Handsome as fuck, and so kind and respectful <3 I luv him

So please guys I beg you!! Play black ops 1, 2 and Cold War so we can get some love for these guys!!

If you like the sound of it please read this fic about adler x bell omg my heart

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader smut #soap x you #captain john price #captain johnathan price #captain john mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x reader #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #modern warfare #modern warefare ii #call of duty #cod x you #cod x reader #141 x reader #task force 141 #black ops cold war #black ops 2 #russell adler #alex mason #david mason #frank woods #helen park

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

The Time of A Coffee

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: It’s only you and Dean for the hunt. Sharing a motel room is not the best, but it’s a must, so you sleep in the same room as Dean for the first time. But Dean is a man of routine, and he cannot function without his coffee. Fed up with how long it takes him, you act like a brat to piss him off, only… Dean has no patience in the morning. Especially when you walk naked in front of him.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Smut, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, overstimulation, masturbation, shower masturbation, use of sex toys, teasing, grumpy Dean

Square: Coffee for @mfbingo​

A/n: I got this idea while looking at the gif below... Enjoy! Feedbacks are appreciated!!

It wasn't the first time you went hunting. The world of monsters invaded your life a few years ago, but it was only recently that you moved into the bunker with the Winchesters. It was more convenient to live in the lair where hundreds of pages of information on all the kinds of monsters that existed were located. Besides, it was the most secure place in the world.

It was your first time hunting alone with Dean, though.

The eldest Winchester didn't seem to appreciate your presence in what he called his home, and you never quite understood why. Except for the few times you passed by him in the hallways on your way to a room, the bunker was so big you hardly ever saw him.

Sam was still injured from the last hunt, so Dean flatly refused to take him with him. However, Sam refused to allow Dean to hunt alone. And if his brother couldn't go with him, there was only you left.

“Don’t think I’ll protect you kiddo,” Dean told you the moment you got into the impala. “We’re going together but I work solo.”

Of course, his attitude had frustrated you badly. You just wanted to get it over with. By the time you arrived in the city where the supernatural event was happening and rented a seedy motel room for the two of you, it was already late. It was impossible to begin the investigations until the next morning.

The night passed without incident. Each of you had their own bed and you turned your back on the green-eyed hunter, hoping to find sleep, but the frustration rising inside you throughout the night made sure you wouldn’t get any rest. The incomprehension of his attitude towards you haunted you, why did he have to act like this? Hunting alone was dangerous, that was why Sam always preferred to go in teams of two or three, and if necessary, the person left at the bunker could do research or answer the phone pretending to be an FBI boss. Dean should be grateful you were there and put up with his attitude.

The sun seeping through the half-open curtains was what woke you up the next day. Yawning, you stretched your arms above your head and kicked the blanket out of the way, forgetting for a few seconds where you were and with whom. A growl echoed next to you and it was enough to completely wake you up, bringing with the hoarse sound chills to your lower stomach that you wish you hadn't had. Especially for the man who seemed to hate your presence so much.

Turning your head to the side, you encountered a sight you never thought you'd get the chance to see.

His hair was disheveled on his head. Half-open eyes stared at the ceiling, the light probably strong to his retinas. His large hands rubbed his eyelids, like it could help him see better, and his tongue moistened his dry lips. A new growl echoed the first as he rotated his previously half-sided body so he was fully sprawled on his back. And in this position, the blankets shifted and a tent was formed.

The heat rose to your face so quickly, you thought for a moment the blankets of the bed were still on your body. A hundred degrees crashed down on you and headed directly between your legs, the space growing hotter and hotter as you watched the man lay in bed next to you. Still half asleep, Dean hadn't noticed you waking up. He groaned again, and you hated the effect his hoarse voice had on your body, in addition to the sight of his morning wood unraveling the structure of the blanket.

Dean then moved. Sitting up, he put his legs on the side of the mattress so he was now back to you. Before he got up, you half-closed your eyes to pretend to be asleep but you could still see what was going on. After a few seconds of sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean finally got up.

His walk was very slow, like he was purposely giving you plenty of time to watch the tent in his loose pajama pants rise and fall slightly with each step. You swallowed dryly as you watched him walk to the bathroom, the door closing behind him the last thing you saw. Then the sound of the water being turned on in the shower hit your ears, and you could safely open your eyes.

“God.”

It was your turn to sit up in bed and rub your eyes. A hand in your hair, you stared at your thighs trying to understand what had just happened and why it had had such an effect on you.

"I so need to get laid," you mumbled to yourself as you stood up. You had to go out for some fresh air, it was a pressing need. With the shower occupied, you couldn't wash away those lewd thoughts running through your mind and refresh your feverish body with the help of freezing cold water. But maybe the fresh morning air would help you in this case. Picking up the first clothes you found, you grabbed your wallet and hurried out of the room.

Once outside, you walked to the nearest cafe. A good, strong coffee would be perfect to put your ideas back in place. And a coffee for Dean might make him a little friendlier, who knows? Once you had both drinks, you were about to return to the motel when a sign caught your eye. It was still early, but if you believed the person who had just entered, the store was open.

The feeling of warmth spread once again between your legs. There was no way you would make it without some relief. And it wasn't your fingers that would satisfy you, certainly not with the next few days you had to spend with the source of this discomfort.

Gathering up your courage, you crossed the street and went to the store.

About twenty minutes was all it took you to get two coffees and your little personal present. And yet, when you returned, you were greeted by a gun pointed at your head.

“Where the hell have you been!” Dean exclaimed the moment he recognized you, his gun now pointed to the ground. The hunter growled and walked back into the bedroom, leaving the door open for you to follow.

Fuck, if he could stop growling, maybe the heat would stop soaking your inner thighs!

"I went for coffee," you rolled your eyes as you set the cup holder down on the table. Noticing Dean's back to you, you rush to your bag to put your other purchase in, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But obviously, the hunter had to put his nose everywhere.

“Oh and what’s this you’re hiding?”

"Pads," you jerked your head around, answering his question very quickly. “What, do you prefer I bleed all over your car?” Of course you were lying. Since you took the pill, you no longer had your periods. But menstruation had always put men off and you hoped that was enough for Dean not to go through your things to verify your statements.

“Ew.” Obviously. Dean walked over to the table, totally disinterested in your bag, to grab one of the two coffees.

"That's mine," you rushed to pick up your cup. After a “whatever” perfectly gestured with only his eyebrows, Dean took his drink and went to sit on the edge of his bed to sip it slowly. A sigh of appreciation broke the silence after his first sip, and you didn't think anything could be worse than his growls.

But that sound in any other context sounded dirty. You were lucky to hold your coffee firmly in your hands.

“Alright, so, for the case,” you began as you sat down at the table. The computer Sam had lent you for the hunt was there, so you slid it towards you and opened it. But before you could add anything, out of the corner of your eye you could see Dean raise a hand. Putting your full attention on him, you watched as he pointed to his coffee and then raised his hand again, palm facing you, signaling you to slow down.

Coffee above all.

It was your turn to growl. All you wanted was to finish the hunt as soon as you could, or at least make the day go by as quickly as possible. Chances were Dean would hit the nearest bar in the evening for a beer and a girl or two. And so, you would finally have some alone time with your purchase.

You fucking brought him a coffee. And that was how he thanked you? Besides, now that you thought about it, the hunter never thanked you.

Your frustration grew.

In the end, and much to your dismay, Dean didn't go to the bar that night. No, he decided it was more interesting to spend the evening in the motel room in front of the television with two or three open beers around him. Not only could you not use the object you had bought in the morning, but you also had to endure Dean's presence that only made you feel more warm. The frustration was so intense, it felt like you were about to explode. So, although you had already taken a shower that morning, you went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.

Once in the safety of the bathroom, you removed your clothes and entered the bathtub. You smiled as you took the detachable shower head in your hands and sat down on the cold ceramic tile. Once the temperature was perfect, you directed the shower head between your thighs.

Your hand pressed against your mouth immediately as pleasure slammed into you from all sides. The frustration of the day was so accumulated in your lower body that you felt yourself twitch around nothing, your pussy begging to be filled as quickly as possible. But both of your hands were busy, one holding the shower head and the other making sure you didn't make any noise, and you didn't trust yourself enough to be quiet.

The thin jet was like hundreds of tiny needles attacking your clit. And if you moved the shower head from left to right, it felt even better. So much pressure built up, you were on the edge of your orgasm continuously. It was burning, building up, over and over, your back arching in the tub as your hips chased the jet like a hungry animal.

It felt so good, so hot, like your pussy was on fire. Everything was on fire, and yet, something was still missing, it wasn't enough to reach your climax. Desperate, and needing it badly, you took the risk. Your hand clasped over your mouth left its post and you hurried, knowing full well that biting your lip wouldn't be enough for long.

Only two fingers were enough. As simple as that. Feeling full was enough for your orgasm to shatter you into little chunks of pleasure and an all too loud moan left your mouth, but as the pleasure lasted, as your body shook and as you saw stars, you didn't care about the sounds you made.

Once your high was over, you had to quickly divert the spray from your now far too sensitive intimacy. It was immediately after that knocking was heard against the door.

“Y/n, you’re okay? I heard you scream!”

Hearing his voice after cumming only brought back that desire and the uncomfortable feeling of being too horny. Your pussy clenched around nothing and you swallowed hard, the thought of getting caught way too exciting for you.

“Yeah! I just slipped and almost fell, that's all!”

You hoped your voice didn't shake while speaking. Because your body was still trembling with the aftermath of your release.

"Clumsy," you heard from the other side of the door, and then footsteps moving away.

Fuck, that was close.

-

The next day was almost exactly like the day before. You woke up before Dean after a far too realistic dream that left you with an unpleasant aftertaste.

Dream that consisted of Dean ordering you to get off on his thigh. Fuck, you could still feel the material of his pants rubbing your thighs to the point of burning. Needless to say, you woke up with overpowering sexual frustration. And Dean waking up next to you, a new tent in the covers and lots of grunts…

This time, you got up before the hunter. Going past him to get to the bathroom was harder than you thought, the temptation to look in his direction was spellbinding… only a quick glance at this tent, just to see and imagine how big he was… And how perfectly his length would stretch your core, filling you up so much you would cum with only him entering you…

You failed. Near the bathroom door, you glanced at Dean.

The tent was the first thing you looked at. Then, your gaze went up on the body under the blanket until it met green eyes firmly staring back. A half-smile tugged the hunter's lips as you quickly entered the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

Heat exploded in your face.

There was always the possibility of using the shower to relieve yourself a little, like the previous day. But all it took was one sound for Dean to know. And slipping in the shower two days in a row was unlikely to happen to give that as an excuse again.

You just stepped into the shower, your wet hair sticking to your body when you realized you hadn't brought your shampoo with you.

"Damn it," you wrapped a towel around your body and opened the door without thinking. “Forgot my shampoo-”

You never stopped so suddenly. So much that you almost lost your balance.

A new magnificent view was offered to you.

Still lying on his bed and under the covers, Dean was in the middle of… taking care of his morning problem. And even though his gestures were hidden under the blanket, your brain was filling in the holes. The tent was in motion, animated by a hand rising and falling rapidly on the very hard tower. Small moans were in motion all around the room, and surprisingly, despite his irreplaceable hunting instincts, it took several seconds for Dean to notice your presence.

But unlike you, if your presence bothered him, he didn't show it.

“Well, go ahead, take your shampoo,” Dean pointed to your bag with his chin. The tent had stopped moving, but now it was his burning gaze on you that was the problem.

His eyes traveled up and down your body a couple of times, his head tilting to the side as he put himself into a sitting position. Dean didn't speak more, he just watched. That was enough to turn you on so much, if you hadn't been soaked by the shower, drops of water falling around you from your hair, you would have felt your inner thighs completely drenched with your arousal.

He wanted to play this kind of game? Perfect. You were fed up with his attitude and the feelings his presence gave you. You were tired of feeling constantly turned on and ruining your underwear with your arousal. He was about to get a taste of his own medicine. 

Walking in front of him, you bore his gaze into yours until you were near your bed. There, you leaned over to access your bag, purposely not bending your knees. The towel was very short and you knew you were flashing Dean enough for him to have a very nice view of your naked intimacy and your asscheeks. Excitement shook your hands as you grabbed what you needed. His gaze burned your skin, so you straightened up and stalked back to the bathroom. Once near the door, you turned back to Dean and with a simple movement of your arm, untied your towel that fell to the floor. But before he could get an eyeful of your naked body, you backed into the bathroom and closed the door.

Your breathing was rapid at what you had just done. You only hoped your little show would leave him in a similar state to yours… Frustrated. Excited.

You were about to celebrate your small victory when a sound echoed from the other side of the door. A sound you knew all too well, that vibration you desperately craved for the past few days

Opening the door abruptly, you immediately froze at seeing Dean right in front of you. He was so close his body heat engulfed your person. Also… There was something pressing against your lower stomach, something you didn't have to look at to know what it was.

“You left your bag open," Dean mumbled in that hoarse voice you loved so much. He raised his hand and in it, you recognized your purchase from the night before. His thumb pushed the button up, then down, the dildo shaking in all directions as it turned on and off.

“Yeah, so? You take so much time drinking your coffee. I have time to cum 3 times before you’re even ready.”

Talking back to Dean while you were completely naked, with him holding your sex toy, clearly as excited as you and with the way he was looking at you like an animal in front of its prey… It probably wasn't the best idea. Dean raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to you again. Now his torso was pressed against your chest, your wet skin leaving dark stains on the gray fabric of his t-shirt. His cock still trapped in his pants pressed against your stomach, a wave of heat attacking you as you felt how hard he was. Raising your head to maintain eye contact, even your breath was lost in the remnants of desire as you gazed into his green eyes.

Feverish was a weak word to describe the way he looked at you.

"Three times, you're sure?" Dean cocked his head to the side.

"Yeah," you replied haughtily, your head tilting the other way. His face was so close your noses brushed and your breaths became one. The excitement was now in full play.

It was heavy. It was hot.

“Let’s see that, shall we?”

You were sure he was about to kiss you, so you closed your eyes. Big mistake. The next moment, you were handcuffed against the headboard of Dean's bed, your arms above your head, his personal smell invading your senses.

But the scent was nothing compared to the sight.

The hunter had captured his prey and was pacing in front of the bed, your dildo in his hands, carefully detailing it as if it were a weapon he intended to use against you.

“Three times. Okay. I'll get the coffee first, just to be fair.” Only his eyes moved as Dean detailed you with a smirk to see your reaction. Then, he knelt on the bed and invited you to open your legs. Hypnotized by his actions, you let him, watching his every move as if he was going to jump on you any moment. “Relax for me please…” Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax as Dean thrusted the toy inside you. As he handled it well with his warm hands, the silicone was no longer cold and entered easily into you. A moan immediately escaped your mouth as the toy burned your entrance, filling you to perfection. Dean pushed the toy into you until the space that meant to be against your clit was in its position.

It was fully inside of you.

You had taken this toy for this reason, precisely. Not only did the dildo vibrate, but the space that rested on your clitoris… had a suction mechanism.

Dean turned the toy on to its lowest setting and immediately, your body tensed up all over. Your head lolled back and moans after moans escaped your mouth, your legs shaking and your arms tugging at the handcuffs. You clenched your thighs, trying to position the toy in the spot that would make you cum immediately, not giving a damn about how desperate you looked.

Opening your eyes, you met Dean's gaze. He was watching again, not saying anything, observing your body's reactions to the toy that was stimulating you, and seeing him looking at you that way… It had the same effect as if you had turned the toy on to its strongest setting. It didn't even have to be positioned at the spot that could make you cum easily.

The orgasm exploded between your thighs in a high pitched, surprised moan.

Your body started shaking and your legs tightened around the toy to be sure it stayed in place. It was so good, you ended completely exhausted and out of breath. Now very sensitive, your clitoris still trembling, you were about to cum again when suddenly, strong hands spread your thighs apart and the buzzing stopped completely.

"That's one and I don't even have my coffee yet," Dean grinned, his eyes fixed on your chest moving up and down quickly, your breasts jiggling with your every breath. "You're already so wet..." Even your inner thighs were sensitive, you noticed when Dean ran one of his hands against that part of your body to see how wet you were.

"Please," you tugged on your handcuffs, wiggling your hips for him to put the toy back on. You had never experienced such a good and powerful orgasm and you wanted more.

“So greedy. That was one. Now, I'm gonna get my coffee. See how many times you can cum again while I drink it.”

And that bastard left you like that. Tied to the bed, naked, still soaking wet from your shower with a toy deep inside you, on the verge of a second orgasm and the promise of more. “Don't leave me here! Winchester!” You yelled at him, but Dean was already gone.

Once alone, you sighed and took the time to understand the situation. Fuck, he was going to watch you get consumed by that toy that had the ability to make you cum in just seconds… And the thought of him watching you turned you on so much, only thinking about it made you throb around the dildo. And if you shifted just a little, you could feel it moving inside you and it felt so good, not enough to make you cum, but enough to satisfy your needs while waiting for Dean to return.

Your eyes were closed when Dean came back, your hips moving in circles to feel something, small moans escaping your lips every time the toy brushed your g spot. You didn't hear the hunter enter, you only knew he was there when the vibrations attacked you again.

A high-pitched scream broke your throat as the sensation washed over you. Your eyes snapped open and you looked at Dean. He had his coffee in his hand, the other between your thighs holding the toy in place inside you.

“Oh fuck, oh God!” Your back arched under the sudden onslaught. And if that wasn't enough, Dean turned up the intensity of the toy. If you hadn't been tied down, you would have reached out to grab something, anything, but all you could do was pull on your cuffs and move around. To try to escape the suction, or to put it in the place that was going to make you explode? You didn’t know. But it was so hot, so good, it was burning, and when you opened your eyes to see what Dean was doing, you could see him sitting on your bed, his cup of coffee in his hands. He was slowly sipping his drink as he watched you writhe with pleasure in his bed, and again...

The fact that he is looking at you made you cum.

“That’s two, and I’m not even halfway through my coffee.”

His hoarse voice made you cum again. Then it was his laugh.

You lost count of how many times you came. Every time you thought it was over, that Dean had finally finished his coffee and was going to take the toy away from you, a new orgasm attacked you. And Dean wasn’t helping by increasing the intensity. Everytime. Until the toy was maxed out.

"Please, please, oh god stop, stop, I can't, I can't!" You were crying now. You were so overstimulated that your orgasms were now torn out from you almost painfully, your body so exhausted you were coming quietly. Each orgasm lasted longer and sent thorns of pleasure for long seconds. Like you were cumming continuously. 

"I'm done with my coffee," Dean said, finally turning off the dildo. Your body immediately softened, only small spasms running through your limbs made you moved. Your muscles were so tense it took you a moment to remember how to use them.  Dean pulled the dildo out of your entrance and you moaned sadly at the feeling of emptiness. "You're sure you wanted me to stop it? Look at that, the toy is soaked, oh…” you glanced tiredly at Dean to see him place the toy down on the bed and put his attention between your thighs. “Son of a bitch, you soaked my bed, it’s so wet…”

His growl, the one that had gotten you in this situation, rang in your ears again. You came so much you were exhausted, and yet, your hole throbbed at the thought of Dean filling you up. You wanted him to growl against your ear as his cock moved in and out of your abused cunt.

“Please, Dean, please,” you spread your thighs, now too far gone to care what you looked like.

Dean didn't care either, because it only took him a few moments to take off his clothes and be on top of you. You hadn't noticed until now, but the warmth of his body informed you how cold you were. “I got you sweetheart…”

He must have been in as much of a hurry as you, because Dean didn't even wait to enter you. Since he had undressed quickly and you had trouble keeping your eyes open, you could barely get an eyeful of his length. You knew he was big, but yet, it was a surprised moan that escaped your lips as he entered you until he was comfortably settled in your channel. To say he was big was almost too sweet to describe his girth. “God, you’re so wet… Fuck… Oh fuck…”

As you wished, his growls tickled your ear and you clenched around him. It only made him groan louder.

You were both impatient. So immediately after entering you, Dean started moving. It was fast, it was rough, and as soon as Dean untied the handcuffs, your hands went to his back, that you scratched and marked with your nails.

“Oh fuck, do that again,” Dean begged, thrusting slower but deeper. Exhausted from all your orgasms, you moaned lazily and dug your nails into his back. The accumulation of your wetness created obscene and embarrassing sounds, but made his movements so easy that Dean could go any way he liked. As rough, hard or fast as he wanted. And you were taking it all in, constantly feeling yourself on the verge of another orgasm.

But that orgasm was different.

As it was about to hit you head-on, Dean pulled his face back enough to look at you. You gazed into his eyes and time seemed to stop.

It was like after all the stimulation, you finally saw who made you feel this good. It wasn’t only the toy that made you cum. It was seeing him there, seeing him in control.

It was Dean. 

You moved your hands to cup his cheek and finally put your lips against his.

It was a rising orgasm. Higher and higher, burning your insides, exploding in small sparks of pleasure and spasms. Moans and grunts mixed together and when you entered your tongue in his mouth to deepen the kiss, you could feel him twitch inside you. Dean buried himself as much as possible, so deep, you could feel his cock brush against your cervix. And despite how wet you were, you felt his seed fill you up.

Once Dean came inside you, you stayed like that for a while, just kissing. The passion in his movements, how he kissed you and touched you after fucking surprised you, you would have thought that was all he wanted, sex, but you weren't complaining and kissed him until you ran out of breath.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped. “You have no idea how bad I wanted this.”

"What?" You stroked his shoulders, not really understanding where he was going with this. You put your confusion on the little high cloud of pleasure you were still floating on. “I… I thought you hated me.”

"I didn't hate you," Dean brushed a lock out of your forehead softly. It had to be the sweetest gesture he had for you since you knew him. “I hated how bad I wanted you all for myself. You seemed so close to Sam, I thought you two were a thing.”

“But Sam is with Eileen,” you frowned with a smile, understanding now why he was always so grumpy whenever you were near him or his brother. “You’re a dumbass, Winchester.”

“I know.” His gaze softened. It was also the first time you saw that side of him. The caring, sweet Dean. “So, how about I help you clean up in the shower? I think you need to cool down… Or warm up… And get clean, even if you’re still wet…”

At the thought of the shower, you clenched around him. Dean didn’t know why, but he was smart, he would figure it out soon enough. “Please.”

Supernatural Tag List: @cryptichobbit @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @siospins2 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #supernatural dean fanfiction #supernatural dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural dean smut #supernatural dean winchester smut #supernatural dean x reader smut #supernatural dean x you #supernatural dean x reader #supernatural dean x y/n #f!reader #dean x f!reader #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean smut #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfic dean #spn fanfic dean smut #supernatural smut

[hyewka]

dominating..ceo soobin….dominating CEO SOOBIN!!!

using his tie as bondage ..haha im normal about this haha..but hear me out!!!!! hes a total nepo baby, getting the ceo position because of his father. different than his older brother in the sense that he thinks following in the steps of his father is his duty, none of that sense of “carrying tradition” translates well to his work though bcs he effing fucks up virtually everything that he touches. terrible at his job (nobody really tells him though) that his father has to literally hire someone to take it upon themselves to make the right decisions..so basically he has his CEO title for show. terrible at negotiation but not at asserting his dominance in the work space lol has the face of steel, not cracking a smile at any formal work events (not everyone knows hes playing with the cuffs of his stupidly expensive suit behind his back).

networking networking..networking!!! you approached mr. choi for networking. like everybody else. being friends with your ceo is unlikely, but being friendly with him would give you some perks. itd be hard though, considering the reputation he holds (cold, aloof, distant…bleh). with your simple black dress paired with pearl accessories to compliment it and your glass of wine in hand, you walk up to the rigid man by the weirdly empty bar. soobin is…awkward, really awkward. stumbles around his words when he offers a longer response to you, definitely is unprofessional with the way he just cant hide the blush on his cheeks and the fact that he even mildly finds you attractive. okay so change of plans, you’re flirting with your boss. harmless fun, everyones sort of drunk and in their own world with their plus ones anyway. “what department do you work in?”

“mm, you’re quite a curious guy.” you hide the amused smile managing to break through at seeing how his eyes widen, looking like his brains working at hundreds of miles per hour, “i’m in marketing.”

“oh, i hope you don’t take this the wrong way—sorry if you feel uncomfortable with so many questions.”

“i don’t mind them, keep asking.” you were definitely crossing an invisible territory with the way you bat your lashes at him, swirling your drink, pushing your tits up..just a bit.

himbo soobin getting more tipsy by the minute, he definitely becomes a little loose, a lot more confident with his words, though more susceptible to your teasing remarks, getting flustered every time you decide to slur your voice and actually hold eye contact.

now imagine you end up pushing soobin in a bathroom definitely not meant to fit two, at the party where hundreds of your coworkers are present, and giving him a fucking …handjob. “the bathroom?” he whispers, shocked at his whereabouts. you don’t pay him much mind as you hurriedly unbuckle his jeans, “raise your hands.” you order.

when you realize he didn’t listen to you, you take it upon yourself to take untie his tie, to which he audibly complains, “wait no—my outfitttt..”

“do you want to get like, the handjob of your life or are you going to keep being a whiny bitch?”

you’re not sure where the surge of confidence comes from (considering he could fire you with the snap of his fingers), but it shuts him up. using his expensive tie to keep his hands restrained, arms up high while you play with the himbos dick, haha…im gonna pass because the way hed be sooo whiny, whimpers slipping through but even more so when you experiment with dirty talk to see how he reacts—trying an insult about his work ethic, and how everyone sees him as incompetent, destined to throw the company to the ground..oh yup, there it is, his dick’s reacting. beads of precum’s dribbling down his tip, and you coo having found what he likes. “mr. choi likes getting degraded? imagine if your subordinates found out…”

“don’t—don’t tell anybody..please” its barely a whisper through the gasps you pull out of him every sudden speed up on his girth, but you could pick up on it.

you could’ve reassured him that you won’t, his secrets safe with you, pathetic ceo who likes to be dominated by a woman?!?!! scandalous!!! you obviously wouldn’t tell anybody, and you’ll make sure to clear that up after this but…having some fun wouldn’t hurt. not when you’re already giving your boss a fucking handjob. “my mouths tight shut… if you follow through. no cumming unless i say so.”

#soobin has a ​degradation kink #its canon or whatever #🌷. rana thoughts #txt hard hours #sub!idol #soobin smut

[srbachchan]

DAY 5948

Jalsa, Mumbai May 31-June 1, 2024 Fri/Sat 12:14 AM

🪔 ,

June 01 .. birthday greetings to Ef Barun Sen .. and Ef Manish Singh Rajpoot .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

Belated birthday greetings to Ef Amit Agrawal from Seattle USA 🇺🇸 .. for May 31 .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

..

and all the wishes for the birthdays from the Ef family .. love ❤️

so each day is a learning .. what I learnt today stays .. and is replicated to others , and in particular family and the dear ..

I learn today ..

aaahh .. never mind ..

it be not of interest or importance to share to the other .. there is ever the reason for it .. and it be that , better to get the sharing of another that is greatly more proficient and valued than what you may have picked up .. and that is and has been the practice, at least for me .. I may be of the opinion that my learning could be of value to another .. but what if his or her learning is sufficiently more interesting than mine .. to assume that yours is the best is my fallacy .. and fear in many ways .. to be put down is an embarrassment .. ever .. you think you know all but there are millions of others better than you .. you m ay be the strongest physical presence in your environ, until you turn a corner on the street and discover that there are several others stronger than you .. your boast goes to roast .. !!

so ..

come to me .. yes , come .. but -

wait .. wait .. wait .. !!

I am never the best ..

and wait .. wait .. waaaiiittttt .. could be the utterance from AAA in film coming out of an Easter egg , giberiging :

'the whole country of the system is juxtapositioned by the haemoglobin in the atmosphere .. !!'

but it was just ad. libbed at the recording by me .. not making any sense .. Manmohan Ji just allowed me to say any junk at my request .. just so it looks like a proficient English speaking Anthony, when indeed he is not .. and merely just rattling off some BUMFF .. !

AND ..

AND ..

AND ..

you shall be surprised and shocked as am I , that it was mere junk spoken by me .. but the Ef Bushra on a research of the film Amar Akbar Anthony by the interview given by Man ji to an English journalist or writer found this :

The song ‘My name is Anthony Gonsalves’ begins with these lines spoken by Anthony when he emerges from the Easter egg – “You see, the whole country of the system is juxtapositioned by the hemoglobin in the atmosphere because you are a sophisticated rhetorician intoxicated by the exuberance of your own verbosity.” It is an almost exact quotation from a speech in the Parliament of the United Kingdom given by British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli in 1878. Disraeli (who was referring to William Ewart Gladstone) used the word “inebriated” rather than “intoxicated.”

wooooaaaahhhh !!! 😳

AND .. hang on ..

I had some days ago either a letter or a WhatsApp message from a cinema fan and a very proficient scientist, I think from the US, an Indian doing research on space , that the words :

'juxtapositioned by the haemoglobin in the atmosphere'

is a scientific fact .. that indeed there is this factor and a reality, scientifically proven, of 'haemoglobin in the atmosphere, being juxtapositioned,' or something like this .. and his purpose of writing to me was ..

how did mr B know of this fact years before it was researched ..

🤣

🤣

🤣

NO NO NO sir .. I knew nothing .. they were just funny sounding words that were invented at the time of the song recording live by me, spontaneously, without any pre prep or meaning, and enacted in the song , my name is Anthony Gonsalves ... !!!!

OHHH .. BABY .. !!!

I must search that mail or letter .. to give the correct interpretation of this scientist ..

so where did we start today ..?

aaah yes .. learning ..

told you .. never a dull day ..🤨

Love night and dreams 😴

Amitabh Bachchan

... such a common phenomena 👆🏼 in the days of the cassette generation

🤣

[catsfor2]

out west (ellie x reader)

warnings: guns/firearms

a/n: howdy guys. not sure if this is what everyone was picturing but this was SO MUCH FUN to write ☺️😋☺️. i definitely do not think they used the word “daddy” in the wild west but i wanted to use it soooo😩😩😩😩also here are the random bits of western slang i used (taradiddles - lies, rumours. sage hen - woman, lady. ‘at sea’ - scared/confused. bellyache - worry. flannel mouth - shithead politician basically) im sorry if i effed this up 0_0 -j

His oversized poncho was black. So was the bandanna covering his mouth, and the large hat hiding his eyes. His revolver, resting like a small child in his gloved hand, stares you down mercilessly.

The figure looked of a ghost. A silent, lifeless bundle of fabrics, rippling in the wind. No face. No skin. No humanity.

And he matched the description of the poster exactly.

“No—no, please, my—my Daddy, he’s the sheriff! It’s more trouble than I’m worth, I’m tellin’ you, please!” You beg, eyes beginning to water and voice already panicked.

He says nothing, boot-clad feet pounding the wood floor carelessly as he walks towards you.

“If you do this he’ll find you! He won’t stop until he finds you! Please don’t!”

It was like talking to a pile of bricks.

The outlaw continues to charge ahead, wordlessly, and you find yourself desperately trying to see where his eyes would land under his hat. He approaches, big and brooding, until you’re face to face with that soulless bandana and downright trembling.

“I—I’d make a real good wife, really, I’ve learned all the—the sewin’, the cookin’ and—and ranchin’! I know it all I promise! It’d be a waste!” You plea, knowing it’s a last resort, knowing this man does not care.

In an instant, his hands clutch your shoulders and forcibly shove you to the side and out of his way, sending you stumbling. His attention lands and focuses on the wall that was behind you.

The poster?

Suddenly, his arm thrusts out and snatches it, like the crack of a whip, before frantically tearing the paper into tiny little pieces.

You watch as they all float down to the floor, feathery and weightless.

You see the brim of his hat turn to you first, and then his head, slowly, like he’s noticing your presence for the first time.

The hand not holding his revolver rises calmly, loosening the edges of his bandanna just a touch. He clears his throat.

“Girl like you knows how to ranch?”

Your eyes almost pop out of your head.

“You’re—”

“Sorry, these damn posters—always…writin’ up taradiddles. Got people thinkin’ I’m some madman, when really,” a finger flicks the rim of the hat, flipping it off of his head and into his grasp. “I’m no man at all.”

You feel yourself reeling, barely able to understand his words, or, her words. The hat had covered up her blue eyes, almost oceanic in color. The bandanna, hiding her soft thin lips. Basically criminal, all the fabric denying you sight of her face.

She went against almost everything Daddy had taught you. It was as terrifying as it was alluring.

“Well you look a bit at sea, darlin’. Why so scared?” She asks, placing her revolver in its holster and walking a bit closer to you.

“I—I don’t get how,”

“How? How what? How a sage hen can shoot? I can tell you right now I cut a cleaner whistle than your Daddy.” She grins, palm now itching closer to her weapon.

“No I—I believe you, it’s alright. Please don’t bring that back out.” You rush, the fear starting to sink back into you.

“Oh, honey, I don’t hunt the good ones. You’ve nothin’ to be scared of,” She assures you, her hand reaching out and feeling some of your hair. “now that sheriff Daddy of yours? Can’t say the same for him.”

You pause, hands balling into fists.

“You know what? My Daddy told me all about you and what you’ve done. I wouldn’t be speakin' so kindly of yourself.” You bite, slightly catching the gunslinger off guard with your tone.

“Oh, did he? Well your Daddy clearly don’t know me too well,” she rebukes, gesturing to the torn pieces of poster under her boots. “do you always believe everythin’ Daddy says?”

“Of course not—”

“I bet Daddy told you that storks bring the babies, right? Did he tell you that?”

“When I was young, but—”

“I bet he also told you about marriage then? One man and one woman?”

You stop talking.

What was wrong about that? Isn’t that how marriage is?

“Most of all, I bet he done told you all about the perfect husband you’re gonna get. Some flannel mouth he works with. Daddy’s girl only gets the best, right? That what he say?”

“I—” You turn your head, a little defeated. “I ain’t marryin’ no flannel mouth,”

“Oh yeah? That’s what’ll happen if you keep listenin’ to Daddy.”

“You don’t know jack. Just a crazy woman with a shootin’ iron. You won’t ever find a husband, I know it.” You spit, not even really believing your own words.

She laughs, rather abruptly, hands rested in the loops of her gun holster.

“Got no bellyaches about that, darlin’. I promise you.” She says knowingly, eyes unwilling to break their gaze from you.

You don’t quite understand what she means by it, especially the way she’s grinning, so you say nothing. Her eyes watch you darkly, following your movements and sending messages you can't translate.

Before she can speak, you remember.

“Oh—my Daddy’s gonna be back soon. I don’t want you to be here when he does.” You tell her, glancing at the doorway behind the both of you.

“I won’t be.”

“Alright—will…will I see you again?”

“Oh sweetheart, you want to?” She questions, starting to re-tie the black bandanna around her mouth.

You blush, sweetly, and the outlaw basks in it. She takes her hat back off, kisses it gently, and places it in your hands.

Her head moves to your neck, barely getting close enough to your ear and whispering faintly.

“Tell Daddy it’s from a suitor, yeah?”

Your cheeks heat, sheerly from how close she is, but also at her words, which feel so much dirtier than they should be to you.

Following that, her leather-covered hands grab your face, and she places a warm kiss on your cheek through the bandanna.

Only lightly could you feel the outline of her lips in the fabric, and it sets you on fire nonetheless.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unsure of how to respond and dizzy with excitement.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warns, voice a bit muffled. She pulls down the bandanna one last time, and with a wink, tells you,

“I’ll be back for my hat.”

#ellie fic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #lesbian #ellie williams #tlou part 2 #ellie williams fic #tlou fic #tlou #catsfor2

[lovelyiida]

mha guys reacting to seeing you in your wedding dress.

INCLUDES: BAKUGO KATSUKI, EJIRO KIRISHIMA, SHOTO TODOROKI, IZUKU MIDORIYA

WARNINGS: PURE EFFING FLUFF

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 0.5K

BAKUGO KATSUKI

I can easily envision this man seeing you walk down the aisle and saying to himself: don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry-

then he sees you let down a single tear...boom, he's done.

he lets out a deep sigh and his hand flies straight to his face to cover the tears streaming down his face.

as you complete your walk down the aisle, his hand still covering his face as he stifles out sobs of happiness

you frown and place your hand on top of his, softly pulling it away to show his face all teary-eyed and puffy.

"you can cry around me, Katsuki" you smiled at him.

"I know baby, I'm just so fuckin' happy."

EJIRO KIRISHIMA

this man is just so happy to see you in your dress walking down the aisle.

"wow"

"holy shit"

"I can't believe this!"

"beautiful"

Kirishima was giddy with every step you took down the aisle, flowers in hand and a smile on your lips.

your soon-to-be husband was absolutely adorable, the way how he couldn't keep his hands in place. constantly combing through his hair, placing them over his mouth, or over his head.

he was in a blissful state of shock.

especially when you finally reached him, as soon as you stepped up towards him his hands stuck to your waist for the rest of the ceremony.

the way he cutely muttered, "hey Mrs. Kirishima."

and the way you giggled "hi," back.

god, this was the best day of his life.

SHOTO TODOROKI

I think the whole ceremony was a dream for him.

he couldn't process the present moment until the ceremony was complete.

the both of you left in your "just got married!" vehicle and decided to head to the beach to finally celebrate your marriage alone.

he saw the way your dress flowed elegantly in the wind.

the way the sunset hits your face, your dress sparkled as your laughter became a constant siren in his mind.

the both of you stayed until nightfall.

sitting in the car, huddled up with a spare blanket. he looks at you sleeping on his chest, he couldn't believe that he was finally married to you.

he was so glad to have you.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

this man is literally crying BUCKETS OF RAIN

he just can't believe it, let the poor man process this in his own ways guys.

he's standing here today, about to marry the woman of his dreams.

tears pouring down his face, cheeks red and puffy, he's just full-on sobbing like a two-year-old.

the way your dress moved with you so perfectly, you were so perfect.

he wasn't even crying about the present moment, he was crying about all the moments after the ceremony.

like when you'll have children, how the both of you will watch them grow old, how he'll watch you grow old with him.

he wanted every single moment with you to last forever

and today was the start of his forever.

ngl, this was cute as shit and had my delusions going LMAO.

I know this was short, but finals!!!

⎯ lovelyiida ♥︎

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha imagines #bnha insert #mha #my hero academia #mha headcanons #mha x you #bnha headcanons #mha x reader #mha shouto todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #mha todoroki #mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha kirishima #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha kirishima #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #shoto todoroki #bakugo katsuki #ejiro kirishima #kirishima x you #bakugo x you #deku x reader #mha deku #bnha deku