#I've been bed bound and bored

[silkysquidz]

More Ship sketches!!!

I'm enjoying just using references and inserting Voodoo Doll and Scarecrow~

#digital art #fanart #jonathan crane #dc oc #voodoo doll #dc fanart #dc #btas scarecrow #BTNA Scarecrow #Ship Art #Voodoo Doll x Scarecrow #Sketches #I've been bed bound and bored #Why am I like this

[m0nsterqzzz]

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination. 

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand. 

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.” 

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.” 

“Always?” 

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!” 

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #fluff #valentines day #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #cats #don't call my bitch the lightning theif percy! #what was that ending? #11 days late lol #valentines gifts #valentines day fic

[a-fools-circus]

Salacious Want

Papa II/f!Reader

Desc: after confessing to Secondo how you've spent your time alone, he makes sure you know that the only person allowed to touch you is him Word Count: 6.3k Tags/Warnings: bondage, bdsm, impact play, degredation, edging/orgasm delay/denial, rough sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, choking, dom/sub, ownership, creampie, aftercare, bc aftercare is important and i want to showcase that i think Secondo fits the duality of being both a rough dom and a tender loving dom, please note that there is one moment when the reader claims to be overwhelmed, but every moment of sex beforehand and afterwards is consensual with both participants willing

this was originally intended to be a fic for Kinktober. obviously that didn't end up working out, BUT i still wanted to write this bc i liked the idea, and i've yet to give Secondo some love so here it is ! this ended up being very fun to write and way longer than intended so i think it's a win. Secondo stans i'm starting to understand you. enjoy babes <3

also available to read on ao3 here

Minors DNI/NSFW below the cut

It was only a few hours ago when you were sat in the shadowed corner of the confession booth. The only thing separating your figure from Secondo’s was the wooden lattice in the center. 

Secondo had been preoccupied with his responsibilities all day. It wasn’t his fault—the workload came with his status as Papa. You didn’t blame him for it, and he was adamant to remind you that he would rather spend his time with you. But you were left on your own. You had to sate your desires—by yourself—in private whenever you had the time. It was boring after the second or third time. Your own touch wasn’t nearly the same as his. 

You knew the risks that came with teasing him (most of which would come from him), but the opportunity presented itself perfectly when you realized that he would be hosting confession. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to do something to coerce him, to convince him to focus on you instead. Taunting him with the knowledge that he missed out on your pleasure seemed like the perfect way to rile him up. 

Armed with your knowledge, you taunted him from your shadowed corner of the booth, detailing every aspect of your indulgence. Every sound you made, every fantasy that crossed your mind, every part of yourself that you touched—it all came forward in your own kind of confession. 

Secondo was good at appearing disinterested. Annoyingly good. You could get on your knees and beg for an hour straight, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He knew he could make you do whatever he wanted when you were desperate to be touched, and he used it to his advantage often.

But his silence from the other side of the confessional was more than feigned disinterest. You could practically feel the disapproval radiating through the lattice, somehow knowing he was staring with that stern gaze he only gave you. He was most intimidating when he was silent, but it was even more nerve-wracking not to be able to see his reaction. 

You made it worse by reminding him of his responsibilities; he had to continue carrying out the rest of confession for the following Siblings. You made your way out, leaving him to stew in his frustration as he was forced to ignore the aching arousal between his legs. That was the nail in the coffin. 

Once time granted him respite from his duties, he wasted no time finding you. 

Now you were sat on your knees on his bed, bent over with your face in his silken sheets. You were completely bare except for the collar around your neck and the restraints that bound your arms behind your back. You were placed near the edge of the bed, instructed to “keep your ass in the air and stay still.” 

You couldn’t see Secondo, but you could sense his steely gaze scanning every inch of your body as he stood behind you. There was no doubt he could see how wet you were; after what felt like hours of sitting here bound, you were getting desperate. 

The click of his shoes on the hardwood floor is the only sound in the room. Every echo of the sound makes you throb, your holes clenching around nothing. You’re sure that sight is obvious to him, too. But he says nothing as he looks over your restrained body. The anticipation in the air is thick, heavy on your mind as you wait for him to do or say something—anything. 

After what felt like an hour of staring, he finally reached a hand out to brush over your thigh. The cool texture of his leather glove surprises you. Secondo’s touch is featherlight, barely grazing your body as it slowly trails inward. His pace is maddening, and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

The trail of his hand stops when his fingers hover daringly close to the spot he knows you need him most. The space beside you on the mattress sinks as his knee comes to rest there. Secondo leans over you, still barely touching your skin. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” Your senses heighten as the sound of his voice finally caresses your eardrums. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him. 

He’d discarded his regalia at this point, now wearing only the black turtleneck and dress pants he sported underneath. Just the sight of him made you want to pounce on him and make up for lost time. But you contained your impulses, humoring his demands as the threat of his dominance made you ache.

You swallow hard. The face paint he hadn’t bothered to clean off only made him look more intimidating. “You,” you whisper back to him. “You, Papa.”

“Mm. Bene…” His husky-toned affirmation almost makes you whine. “Then why did you touch it without permission?”

Secondo’s words catch you off guard at first. You start to speak, a tiny squeak leaving your mouth, but the words fail to form. You look away in embarrassment. Your eyes catch on the obvious bulge that strains against the front of his pants.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging firmly until your shoulders rise off of the mattress. Secondo leans in further, his breath warm against your ear. The scent of patchouli and tobacco floods your nostrils. “You will answer when I ask you a question, yes?” He growls, the sound of his voice rumbling in your ears.

You swallow hard, eyes fluttering shut at the pain on your scalp. “Yes, Papa—”

“Look at me.” You do exactly as he says, your body thrumming with desire as your eyes flicker up to meet his. “Why did you touch yourself without Papa’s permission?”

“Because, I…I was desperate, Papa.” Your heart pounds in your chest at your confession. Judging by the way he scoffs, you assume your response isn’t satisfactory. 

“Desperate?” Secondo echoes. You nod in agreement. “What, desperate to make yourself cum just so you can tell me what a disobedient, needy whore you are?” The leather of his gloves squeaks as Secondo tightens his grip.

The degrading term sends a surge of arousal through you. The sensation is only heightened by his grip on your hair. “No, no, Papa…I…I just wanted to be touched. I really, really needed it.”

“Oh, is that it, piccolina? You just needed to be touched?” You nod fervently, humming a small “mm-hmm” in reply despite the blatant mockery in his tone. “Perhaps I should remind you how you taunted me, then. The way you told me how hot and wet you were when you fucked yourself? How you came so quickly by your own hand?”

Secondo punctuates his annoyance with another firm tug on your hair. You whine, hissing slightly at the soreness in your neck. “I…I didn’t mean it, Papa,” you manage to choke out. “I just…wanted you to know how much I missed you…How much I need you.”

“It sounds to me that the only thing you ‘need’ is a lesson in restraint, sì?”

A whine rumbles in your throat at his suggestion. You want to fight back, to argue and prove your point, but that would only garner more punishment. You nod in response before realizing your muteness is unsatisfactory. “Yes, Papa.”

Secondo releases your hair and you fall forward, your face planting into the sheets. He rises off of the bed to return to his place behind you. His hands run teasingly over your body with gentle brushes that give you goosebumps. A shiver runs down your spine as his hands move further down. 

You barely feel two of his fingers glide through your slit, your wet arousal gathering on his digits. You don’t know when he removed his glove, but you relish in the warmth of his bare hand instead of the cool leather. Your hips roll towards his touch in an attempt to gain any of the friction he seems to deny you. Your wrists twist in their restraints. His fingers spread you open to reveal your entrance. 

“Look how wet you are,” he taunts. The leash attached to your collar rustles before being pulled taut. Your head jerks back, your shoulders lifting off of the bed as your back arches. You can feel Secondo’s cock—hard and straining against his pants—as he presses against you. “Open.” You hear him growl. 

The demand sends a wave of heat through you. You comply, but you’re barely able to part your lips before his hand moves away from your cunt and his fingers force their way down your throat. You fight off the urge to choke in order to remain obediently willing. 

“You wished to show me how much you needed me, sì?” You nod, humming around his fingers. “Show me, then. Take my hand like you would take my cock.”

You eagerly heed Secondo’s words. Your mouth sucks and licks his fingers with enthusiasm, savoring the taste of your own arousal as it coats your tongue. You ignore the way your body aches from the awkward position he’s contorted you in. Saliva seeps from your lips and dribbles down your chin, escaping you as you swirl your tongue around his digits the same way you do with his cock. 

“Greedy little mouth…” Secondo growls as he watches you intently. His hand stays firmly enveloped in your mouth as he presses his body against yours. You groan around his fingers when you feel his cock press against your ass. “Look at you, drooling all over yourself, pretending my cock is down your throat. You look so desperate.”

You shift on the bed, trying to clench your legs together in a desperate attempt for friction at the sound of his degrading tone. Secondo notices immediately. His hand slides out of your mouth, not caring that strands of saliva spill from your wet lips, and delivers a harsh smack to the swell of your ass. The sound echoes in the room. The sudden sting makes you cry out, your eyes widening in surprise. 

A firm tug on the leash makes you choke momentarily. “Keep your legs spread,” Secondo growls, his hand reaching down to tug at your thigh and force your legs apart while the other pulls the leash taut. “If you can’t be good, you aren’t getting touched.”

Your hands tug at their restraints, fists clenching with frustration. “I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I’ll be good, I promise. Please touch me, please.” Your words come out in a flurry, rushed and desperate, as you pant for breath.

Secondo’s hand releases the leash, allowing you to fall forward again. His hand immediately snakes around your waist to land on the space between your thighs. Saliva-wettened fingers land on your clit and swirl in agonizingly slow circles. Your breath catches in your throat, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. Your hips jerk into his hand as a silent encouragement. 

Another sudden spank takes your breath away. His hand stops its movements and you whine. “Stay still. You’ll only take what I give you, sì?”

You nod, sighing dejectedly. “Yes, Papa.”

It takes all of your strength to keep your hips in place and resist the urge to grind into his hand when he continues to swirl his fingers. Your thighs tense and your mouth falls open with whimpers and moans. 

Secondo barely increases his pace at the sound of your pleasure. Your hands ball into fists in their restraints, a low groan ripping from your throat. You curse, desperately using every ounce of control to keep your hips still.

“Mia piccola puttana…she can be good when she wants to be, hmm?” He tilts his head, watching your pleasure-contorted features. His hand speeds up slightly and you gasp.

“Yes…Papa…Fuck…”

“She likes it, doesn’t she?”

“Yes…Yes, Papa, I like it…” Warmth pools in your abdomen, winding tighter with each swirl of his fingers. Your thighs begin to shake as you lose the battle of staying still. Your hips thrust desperately forward, eager to hit the orgasm that lingers so close to fruition. “Please, Papa. It feels so good…fuck..!”

Secondo pulls his hand away mere seconds before the warmth spills over. You cry out, a high-pitched whine ripping from your throat as your orgasm slowly dissipates. Your hips buck forward as if trying to chase his touch.

“Why did you—?”

“You don’t deserve to cum yet.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument no matter how badly you want to. “Poverina…you did not think I would give you what you want that easily, did you?” Your lips part to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. “Such a greedy whore…you made yourself cum and you think you deserve it by my hand?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again, I promise.” You whine, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea. The roll of your hips is slow as you feel the outline of his rigid length through his pants.

Another harsh slap comes down on the swell of your ass. You gasp, the sting coursing through you and halting your movements. “Now you think you deserve my cock?” Secondo’s grip digs into the skin of your hips as he accuses you, his grasp so tight you can almost feel the bruises begin to form.

“No, no, Papa. I don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” He taunts. His hand massages the red handprint blooming on your ass, soothing the lingering sting. “Are you going to start being good for Papa?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Bene…” He gropes your ass, the tight grip making the welts forming on your skin sting. “Now be a good girl and ask for it. Nicely.”

“Please, Papa…I want you to touch me. Please touch me.”

Secondo scoffs at your plea. “Now I know you can beg better than that.”

A whine builds in your throat, but you swallow hard to contain it. “Please, please, please, Papa. Please touch me. I need it so fucking bad.” You pant. “I need you. I need your touch. Please.”

Without warning, two fingers push past your entrance and stretch you open. You gasp at the sensation, cursing as Secondo pumps his fingers at an unrelenting pace that gives you no time to adjust or savor the feeling. Your nails dig into your palms as you whine at each thrust of his hand. 

“Fuck! Yes, yes…” You cry out, your cunt throbbing around his fingers. “Thank you, Papa. Fuck me…”

Secondo’s other hand holds you in place, gripping your hip so tight you think it’ll leave bruises. His fingers curl, searching for that sweet spot that’ll leave you crying out. As soon as he hits it, you curse in a loud gasp, your back arching to push your hips into his touch. He massages the spot with each pump of his hand, sending waves of pleasure through you that make your toes curl.

“Fuck, Papa! Yes, yes, yes. Right there. Right there.” Your moans fill the room, your cries reverberating off the ornate walls. Each plea is louder than the last. Your arms tug at their restraints, your hands flexing, desperate to hold on to something, anything.

Secondo groans, his voice husky. “Desperate whore, all worked up by my hand. You love it, don’t you?” You nod and mutter a small “mm-hmm”, too overwhelmed with his pace to form a proper response. “Fottuta troia,” he growls, taking a fistful of your hair and tugging until your shoulders lift off the bed. He leans over you, his fingers still pumping with their unwaveringly strong pace. “You answer your Papa, sì?”

You wince, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure that courses through you. “Yes, Papa. I…fuck—I’m sorry, Papa,” you manage to squeak out between moans.

“Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good my hand feels.”

“It feels…so fucking good, Papa,” you whine. Your words aren’t enough, evident by the way he tugs on your hair again for encouragement. His lack of response has you on edge. “You fuck me so good. I-I love the way your hand feels in my pussy.”

The tight grip on your hair is unrelenting. The awkward position you’re held in makes your back sore, but the pleasure granted to you overrides any discomfort. Warmth builds in your abdomen yet again, swirling and coiling with the need for release. Your thighs tense, your walls tightening around his fingers as your pants grow quick and loud.

“Oh, fuck…I’m…P-please…” Your voice quivers as you beg. “Please, Papa, can I cum this time?”

Secondo nuzzles against your neck, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. “Oh, dolcezza,” his words seem sweet, but you recognize the mocking in his tone. “Asking like that, you almost have me convinced.” His fingers pull out of you, a wet, squelching noise accompanying their retreat. “Almost.”

The whine that escapes you is even louder, even more desperate than before. “No, Papa…why did you…” You stammer and whine, unable to form a complete sentence. You almost feel like you could cry as the coil of warmth slowly dissipates. He releases your hair, a grunt escaping you as you fall forward onto the mattress and he moves away. “Please touch me again, I can’t…I need to cum.” Your hips roll in the air, desperate for some form of contact.

“You need it?” You hear him echo, almost as if he’s mocking your plea.

You nod your head and hum a small “mm-hmm” with a whine. “Yes, Papa, I need it. I need to cum so fucking bad.” You shiver when you feel his fingertips reconnect with your heat for just a moment, barely grazing over your folds. “Please, just keep fucking me. I was so close, I—”

Secondo cuts you off with a harsh spank, the sound echoing in the room. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, dragging you backward until your ass is flush against his body. And his achingly hard cock that strains behind his pants.

“Greedy whore thinks she deserves to cum already…” He mutters as his hands trace the swell of your ass.

“No…no, Papa, I didn’t mean that…” You pant, your breath heavy. “I just…fuck, I want it so bad. Please…”

He goes silent as his hands continue to trace gently over your skin. The silence heightens both your nerves and your desperation. Finally, his gruff voice breaks the silence. “Tell me again, cara: who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Papa.”

“Bene.” He presses his body more firmly against you. A quiet whimper escapes your lips at the feeling of his cock so close yet trapped beneath layers. “This pussy is mine. Mine to use and fuck whenever I feel like it.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Say it.”

“My…my pussy is yours, Papa. Yours to use, yours to fuck.” You swear you feel his cock throb behind his pants.

His torso presses against your restrained wrists as Secondo leans over you. If you weren’t so afraid of being punished and denied any longer, you’d grab ahold of his shirt and tug him closer. His hands move to your hips, where his nails dig into your skin. “You cum when I tell you to. When I decide you deserve it.” His voice is a sultry whisper, like a smooth velvet that wraps around your senses. It makes you want to forget about your own desires. 

You nod, sighing at his words. “Yes, Papa.”

“If you pull another stunt like that—taunting me with your impatience—I’ll tie you up and make sure you don’t cum for hours. Do you understand?”

The thought makes you shiver in a mixture of arousal and fear. You swallow hard, nodding your head again. “Y-yes Papa…”

“Are you going to be good for Papa?” His hips roll against you, and while the friction isn’t stimulating for you, it makes you gasp nonetheless. 

“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, Papa. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“No more touching yourself without Papa’s permission, sì?”

“Yes, Papa.”

His hands squeeze your hips, but the gesture is more playful than painful. “Molto bene.”

Secondo ruts against you, dragging the bulge in his pants along the curve of your ass. He groans before moving to grind against your slick heat. The wetness of your arousal seeps through and stains the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 

One of his hands slides up the arch of your back, avoiding your restrained wrists and caressing your spine. “You want Papa’s cock, sì?” 

“Yes. Yes…please, Papa,” you whine breathlessly.

His other hand trails down your hip and over the swell of your ass before groping you firmly. His grasp is rough, making the welts that have formed from his spanks sting. “Beg for it, puttana.”

You sigh in frustration at his words. “Please, Papa. Please put your cock in me.” You fight with every ounce of restraint to keep your hips still. You want nothing more than to rub and bounce your ass against him, to hear him groan and curse at the friction. But you know doing so would earn you another punishment. “I want it—I need it—so fucking bad. Please, please.”

Secondo leans away from your body. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yearning harder for him. “She needs it, she says…” You hear him mock you as the faint sound of a zipper catches your attention. 

You groan at the familiar feeling of his cock as the rigid and warm flesh lands on your ass. Secondo wraps one hand around the base, his other hand gripping your hip as he guides his cock to the space between your legs. He barely brushes against you, only allowing enough contact to cover himself in your slick arousal. The light friction makes you whine.

It’s not until you feel the head of his cock rub against your swollen, neglected clit that you stop whining and start panting. It’s even harder to stay still, especially when his pace is so languidly slow. 

Your toes curl with strain. “Papa, please…I can’t…I can’t wait anymore…”

Another harsh spank comes down on your ass, making you hiss. “You can, and you will.” He growls. “Be good.” He continues the light and gentle grinding, his hands moving to rest on your ass and spread you open for his viewing pleasure. “Sathanas,” he curses, the sound making you throb and clench around nothing, which he certainly notices. “Così bagnato per me...you are a desperate little whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Papa.” Your nails dig into your palms as your body tenses in anticipation. “Please give it to me.”

He slides his cock along your folds, moving back and forth in long, sensual strokes. He pulls back to guide the head of his cock to sit at your entrance and grazes it teasingly, never pushing forward with enough force to enter you. You know he’s savoring the way you whimper and squirm. You groan, the sound turning into a whine.

“Please, Papa…” Your voice is breathless at this point, so desperate you could cry. “Please, please, I can’t wait anym—Ah!”

You’re cut off by his sudden, forceful thrust forward as he buries himself inside you with one movement. The stretch of your walls stings, making you hiss and curse. Your wrists tug at their restraints and your thighs go tense as he immediately starts a rough and unrelenting pace, giving you no time to acclimate to his intrusion.

Each thrust is met with one of your loud and desperate moans. Secondo runs his hands over the curve of your hips, his thumbs rubbing gently over your skin in a manner that completely opposes his rough movements. He groans, the sound sending heat to your core, and you feel him lean over your body. 

The leash suddenly goes taut. Your head is lifted off of the mattress, strangling your moans as they leave your mouth. “This is what you wanted, sì?” He growls into your ear, punctuating his question with a set of firm thrusts. “To be fucked hard and rough like the whore you are?”

“Yes! Fuck…fuck, yes…” You cry out, voice strained against the collar around your throat. “Thank you, Papa, thank you…Lucifer below, it feels…so good…”

He leans back and pulls the leash with him. His free hand holds your hip tight, his grip strong enough to make you ache. He groans, cursing something in Italian under his breath, before spanking you again. Your walls flutter around him at the pain. “Dillo di nuovo. Tell Papa how good his cock feels.” His voice is low and rough, practically a growl, as he pounds into you.

“Your cock feels so fucking good, Papa…” Your eyes flutter shut as your head becomes light. Your moans and whines are guttural, choked out by your collar. “I love it…I love the way you fuck me…Don’t stop, Papa.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on it, puttana.” Secondo punctuates the word with a particularly rough thrust, making you cry out with a strangled moan. “You’re going to cum for me—when I tell you to.”

The room fills with sounds of your pleasure; moans and cries leaving your lips and the repeated, quick slapping of skin against skin. His own groans hit your ears and excite you further. He pounds into you with a relentless rhythm, quick and hard thrusts that make your body tremble under him.

“Papa…I’m gonna—fuck…” You feel your thighs shake, unsteady as the warmth in your abdomen tightens.

“Not yet.” He snaps back. He tugs on the leash again, making your head lighter as air escapes your lungs. “Solo un’altro po…”

It’s almost impossible to hold on any longer. The heat that swirls in your abdomen coils tighter and tighter with each thrust, the impending release crescendoing with no sign of stopping. All you can choke out is a quiet, strained “please” in between his powerful thrusts. 

Secondo groans at your tight and wet heat, the sound turning into a slight chuckle that reverberates in your ear as he leans in. “Poverina…you need it, don’t you?” His voice is light and sweet despite the mockery in his tone. You nod before muttering a small “yes, Papa” in return. “Cum for me, tesoro. Cum on Papa’s cock.” He growls in your ear, his pace never wavering.

It takes only a few more of his rough thrusts to send you over the edge. The sound that leaves you is one you didn’t know you could make: a loud and guttural moan built up from constant denial that spills involuntarily from your lips. Your entire body tenses and trembles underneath him as waves of pleasure make you throb and clench around him. His pace never changes, working you through the high until your muscles go lax. 

His thrusts slow down until they become slow rolls of his hips against your weak body. He releases the leash, letting your head fall against the mattress with a soft thud. His hands trail over your breasts as he leans to place a small, gentle kiss on your back between your shoulder blades. 

“I’ve never heard you make those pretty sounds before.” He mutters against your skin. His hands knead your chest as he continues to roll his hips against you languidly.

A weak smile forms on your face. “I…I told you I was desperate,” you pant between heavy breaths. You groan with each of his thrusts, the leisurely pace doing nothing to soothe the overstimulation. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for—ah—letting me cum…”

His hands trail down your body, his touch tracing your curves before returning to your hips as he leans back. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dolcezza.”

You barely process his words before he pounds into you again. He wastes no time finding another intense and rough rhythm. Your body tenses as the overstimulation makes you whine, your hands balling into fists as they tug at their restraints. You cry out, your body shaking under the power of his thrusts.

“Fuck, Papa! Shit, shit, shit…”

Secondo’s deep groans fill the air, complimented by the wet sounds of sex. “Merda. I didn’t think you could get any tighter.” One of his hands lands on the small of your back, purposefully avoiding your bound wrists.

Every thrust sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, surges of overstimulating ecstasy that course through every inch of your body. It’s an overwhelming sensation, making every muscle tense and every moan and whimper more desperate than the last. Your noises only spur him on, each pathetic sound met with a powerful thrust that makes you whine louder. 

“Papa…fuck, I can’t…it’s too much…” Your knuckles turn white as you ball your hands into fists. The overstimulation hurts, but the pain only adds to the pleasure he gives you. You trust him enough to know he’d drop everything if you were genuinely hurt. But right now, he knew you had no interest in stopping.

The leash suddenly goes taut, your head lifting off of the mattress again at his sudden tug. He spanks you again, your cry strangled by his sharp tug on the leash. “Fucking take it,” you hear him growl. Another spank makes you whine. “You’ll take my cock until I’m done with you, puttana.”

You groan at his words, your back arching into his thrusts. “Y-yes, P-Papa…”

His thrusts turn sharp and quick as he ruts against you. It’s primal and needy—almost animalistic—the way he moves. Each slap of his hips against your ass makes you hiss, the welts left from his hand stinging at every movement. Your body remains tense, every drag of his cock along your walls causing you to clench around him.

“Così fottutamente buono...questa figa è perfetta, tesoro…” You can barely hear his low, husky voice over the sound of skin meeting skin. Secondo tugs again on the leash, making you groan as your head jerks back. He leans down until his breath hits your ear. “You’re going to cum again for me, dolcezza.” His tone is clear—his words are a command, not a suggestion. “I want to feel this pussy milk my cock.”

The vulgarity in his words makes you whine. “Yeah…yes, Papa—fuck, I wanna milk your cock dry.”

“Sì, that’s what you want, giusto? You want Papa to cum in you and fill you up?” He growls in your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, Papa, I want your cum…Please, pump me full.” You strain to speak against the tight collar, but your plea is loud and desperate. 

You can hear his breathing growing heavier. You can tell he’s getting close. He shoves his cock as deep as he can as his thrusts turn into forceful rolls of his hips as he grinds against you. The friction makes the marks on your ass sting. 

Secondo’s free hand snakes around the curve of your hips, wasting no time finding your swollen and aching clit. His fingers swirl in time with each movement of his hips. The rhythmic pace between his deep penetration and the delicious friction of his hand makes you writhe under him. 

You curse, your hips jerking wildly into his hand and against his hips, too overstimulated to find a rhythm. “Papa…Papa..!” You cry out and whine as your eyes screw shut. 

He knows exactly how to make you tremble, all of the movements that send you closer to the edge and make you melt under his touch. The repeated clenching of your cunt makes him groan and curse. 

“Fuck, Papa! I’m gonna…Sathanas, I’m gonna cum again, shit…” You feel your thighs shake and tremble, every muscle in your body tensed as the heat in your abdomen returns, mounting to a high.

Secondo pants, tugging on the leash again. “Dai, dai…cum for me, cum for Papa.”

The dual pleasure leaves you unable to resist, the sensations overwhelming your body. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the last. Your body shakes and your moans turn into whines as the pleasure leaves you overwhelmed. You don’t even notice the few tears that escape as you writhe and tremble. He works you through the high, his hand swirling perfectly against your sensitive core to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He only removes his hand once your whines turn to hisses. 

The continuous, rough movements enacted on your overwhelmed body borders on pain. But you know he’s close, evident by his heavy breathing and groans as he pounds into you with the last of his strength. His grip is tight on your hip as the other hand holds your leash taut to keep your body in place.

With one final powerful thrust, Secondo stills as he spills himself into you. You feel every kick and pulse of his cock as he fills you. He groans, growling something in Italian, but you’re too far gone to comprehend it. He releases his grip on the leash, allowing your head to fall to the mattress.

Your body goes lax as he pulls out of you. Both of you grunt at the sensation. A wet squelch fills the air as you whine at the emptiness, too accustomed to his presence despite how overwhelming it feels. Your hips fall flat on the bed as you pant for breath and groan at the soreness in your back. 

A wave of relief courses through you as your wrists are released from their restraints. The ache in your shoulders is painfully evident now that you can move freely. You roll onto your side, blinking heavily as you look up to see Secondo’s face. 

His paint is smeared in various places, streaked by beads of sweat. His chest heaves with his own heavy breaths. You get the urge to scold him for exerting himself at his age.

He leans over you, reaching down to unfasten the collar around your neck. You instinctively tilt your head to make the process easier. You sigh when the garment is removed, allowing your skin to breathe and give your neck a break. Your eyes are heavy as you watch him place the collar and restraints on the nightstand with care. 

Secondo leans down again, running a hand through your hair. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Un momento, bella,” he mutters against your skin before leaning away.

You watch as he walks in the direction of the adjoining bathroom before he disappears past the doorway. A small smile graces your face. It was easy to get intimidated by him, by his steely gaze and guarded demeanor, but he showed you a tenderness that no one else could match. 

It was never as evident as it is in these moments. When he walks back into the room with a damp washcloth in his hand, your heart swells. He always takes the time to treat you so gently after sex, especially when it’s rough. 

He cleans you carefully, running the washcloth over your flushed skin. He moves you with a sense of care and worship, like you’ll shatter beneath his touch if he isn’t careful. The warmth of the wet fabric is soothing, making you sigh with each stroke. He occasionally leans down to place kisses along your skin.

Once you’re clean, he lays the cloth on the nightstand. You know he’ll retrieve it later, probably after you’ve drifted off to sleep. He guides you to lay against the pillows, helping you move in your sore state. You groan at the aching pain in your body—the sting of your ass, the soreness in your shoulders, the aching of your back. He runs a hand over your thigh, fingers barely grazing your skin as his touch trails over the swell of your ass. 

“You’re still red,” Secondo remarks. You feel the slight tingle of discomfort, your skin warm from the welts that have formed. “You must still be sore.”

You can hear the concern in voice, almost as if he regrets what he did. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

You smile at him, at his worry. “Yes, I’m sure.” You extend an arm towards him, beckoning him closer with your hand. “Now come here. I want you to lay with me.”

“Oh, is that right?” He teases. Despite his sarcastic tone, he’s already kicking off his shoes. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes. It is. You need your rest too, old man.”

You hear him scoff before he climbs onto the bed and situates himself beside you. “‘Old man’, huh?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your back is flush against his chest. He’s careful to keep distance between your hips so as not to irritate your welted skin. “Stai attento, mia cara. You wouldn’t want another punishment so soon, would you,”

You giggle at his words, laying your hand atop his arm and pulling him closer. You groan as you settle against the bed, attempting to allow your aching body to relax. You feel his arm move away from your waist. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb massaging firm circles into your sore muscles. The gesture makes you smile, your head turning back to look at him.

“You don’t have to do that, Papa.”

“Oh, of course I do,” he responds, his hand working towards your shoulder blades. His lips brush over your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Mia piccola bellezza was so good for her Papa. She deserves to be taken care of.” His lips land on your neck, trailing kisses down to your shoulder. “You’re always so good for Papa,” he mutters between kisses.

He leans in to kiss you, and you turn to meet his movement. The gesture sends sparks through you. You smile against his lips, pressing into his kiss and relishing in the warmth that blooms in your chest. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep after that. You laid there, allowing him to tend and care for you however he felt necessary. Not every touch was meant to massage or tend to your sore muscles, but you didn’t care. Just having his hands on your body was enough. 

This was how he showed his love to you, and you found nothing but comfort and security in his arms.

#surprise ! i posted #crazy i know #clown's stuff #papa emeritus ii #papa ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa x reader #the band ghost smut #the band ghost #ghost bc

[thewertsearch]

JADE: hello! JADE: ummmmmm JADE: jade? JADE: can you talk? JADESPRITE: i…

Well, this is a first, isn't it?

A Dream Self is never meant to converse with its realsona. After all, there's only supposed to be one person in the equation. For hundreds of pages, I've been wondering what would happen if one was prototyped - and the answer seems to be that the Jade equation now contains two souls, not one. They're two independent incarnations of Jade, coexisting in the same space for the first time ever.

How similar are they, I wonder? Presumably Jadesprite's memory cuts off after the end of Descend, so she's essentially a version of Jade from hours in the past. From now on, they'll continue to diverge from each other as they experience different lives. Just like with Dave and Davesprite, these girls are now siblings, not 'sonas.

JADESPRITE: what did you do…

...uh oh.

In all my excitement, I forgot about a rather important facet of this situation.

JADESPRITE: WHAT DID YOU DO??????

Jadesprite's a First Guardian now.

This isn't something any human is prepared to handle. It's godhood, but not the safe, Sburb-approved kind that comes from a Quest Bed. It's raw, unfiltered power, knowledge beyond comprehension, and absolute control of distance itself.

What does that do to a person?

We've been playing fast and loose with Sburb's rules for too long.

Eventually, we were bound to cross a couple of wires that should never have been allowed to touch.

Looks like Gamzee's getting bored. At least we know he survives until the end of the countdown...

...wait. That's not paint, is it? That's Gamzee's blood.

What the hell's going on in the future?

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s109 #3213

[lunarfleur]

Promise ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Tagging: @hiyaitssans @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @ggucafe

Warnings: low-key toxic relationship

A/N: inspired by Promise by Laufey. There’s some translated Spanish in here (not from Google Translate) so please lmk if anything of it is wrong 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is x gender neutral reader!

I made a promise

To distance myself

“Baby, don’t you dare do this to me.”

You stood out like a sore thumb in his bedroom, his hoodie hanging loosely from your body. Your hands sat limp at your sides, watching Miles’s expression change.

“Miles, this…isn’t working.”

“What? We been working perfectly fine.”

His eyes bore into you, giving a silent plea. You watched as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, the same eyes you’ve grown to love.

But he knew you were right. He was so busy all the time, doing things that were beyond dangerous. He’d flake out on dates constantly. Some days, you’d wake in his bedroom at 3:00 am, completely alone.

“I’ll be better,” he always said.

“I’m sorry Miles.”

“But-but I love you, you know I do.”

“I know, Miles. This just isn’t right.”

“No me dejes, please.”

(Don’t leave me, please.)

“I’ll see you soon.”

Took a flight, through aurora skies

Honestly, I didn't think about how we didn't say goodbye

Just see you very soon

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

——————————————————————————

“Miles, man, how you doin?”

So I didn't call you

For sixteen long days

Miles didn’t answer. For a little over 2 weeks, he did nothing but stare at his ceiling. His bed, somehow, still smelled like you. There was a hoodie draped over his desk chair, the same one you wore when you left him.

He wasn’t upset with you. No matter how much he ignored it, he still knew he was ruining it, ruining you. Someone was bound to get hurt. More than anything, he was glad it was him.

And I should get a cigarette

For so much restraint

No matter how long I resist temptation

I will always lose

It was for the better, right?

In the 8 months you had been dating, you always somehow managed to end up missing Miles more than you could love him. Too many nights, you woke up alone. Too many of your texts had been left on read. No matter how many times he came back, he always left again.

You still had his hoodie, his favorite one. It no longer smelled like him, was no longer warm like him. It was nothing more than a reminder of everything you did, and everything Miles couldn’t do.

So, it was for the better, right?

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

Yet, you couldn’t forget about the nights he’d come back to you. Sneaking in through your window, trying his hardest not to wake you as he slipped into your bed.

Every time he held you, it was tight and close and warm. Every time he kissed you, it was sweet and loving. So many nights, you sat in his lap, kissing the night away until neither of you could breath.

“I’m yours, amor.”

I've done the math

There's no solution

We'll never last

Why can't I let go of this?

——————————————————————————

So I broke my promise

“Hi, Miles.”

I called you last night

“Y/N?”

I shouldn't have, I wouldn't have

“Hi.”

If it weren't for the sight of a boy

“What-what is it?”

Who looked just like you

“I’m sorry, really.”

“It’s alright. You deserved better.”

“But I-”

“Don’t. It’s ‘aight. You should be out there, living your life. It ain’t fair the way I made you worry about me.”

“I can’t stop, though. Funny as it is, I’d rather live my life worrying with you than not worry at all without you.”

Standing out on Melrose Avenue

“Volver conmigo. Please, I swear I’ll be better this time.”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

“Miles, those 8 months were-”

“Awful. I know.”

“You said you’d be better. You never were. How do I know you’re not just gonna break the promise again.”

“Cause, before, I guess I didn’t realize how much I had to lose.”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

It was all for the better. Right?

#Spotify #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #atsv #across the spider verse #laufey #promise by laufey #x gender neutral reader

[genericpuff]

Hi! Maybe this is a difficult question with no answer, but as a fan of Rekindled who might want to start their own comic, what do you suggest to avoid burnout? Do you start wiht writting the script right away, you doodle a bit,..? Thanks for reading, I love how you draw big noses, makes me more comfy with mine!

no fr my dark secret is that i've been experiencing burnout with my main original project that I've spent the last decade working on for literally a year now. this isn't the first long hiatus i've taken, the longest one i've ever been on has lasted two years, and it's undoubtedly not the last i'll experience because the lump of salt and fat and tissue that is my brain often overworks itself into exhaustion like a big dummy

rekindled has been my reprieve from the burnout. it has been my vacation from years of working on the same project, meeting the same deadlines, drawing the same characters, over and over and over again since before i was in college.

if there's anything working on rekindled has made clear to me, it's that i'm still capable of drawing comics. the comic-making isn't the problem. it's just that when you work on the same project for years and trap yourself in an uphill battle, eventually your climbing gear is bound to break.

if there's another thing that rekindled has opened my eyes to, it's the insanity that i put myself through prior to rekindled that led to my burnout in the first place.

i get people telling me that they couldn't imagine doing what i do, that even before i had my assistant helping me out, i was still able to put out 30-40 panel updates every week.

but before that, i was putting out 70-90 panel episodes of my original work. every week. full color. full spread action scenes. no assistant. very little financial gain aside from a couple patrons on patreon and one dedicated viewer on twitch, which i was also streaming on 2-3 times a week.

and now that i've been working on rekindled and even finding myself often crunched for time with that, i have zero clue, no idea, a complete lack of comprehension of how i pulled off 70-90 panels a week for months on end. there's a reason it resulted in burnout and i know that now. this comparison is not for the sake of a flex - this comparison is to make it clear that much of what i do isn't the norm and isn't exactly a healthy standard. case in point, i sneezed while sweeping up yesterday morning and it caused a muscle strain in my lower back/hips and i've been working out of my bed since, i'm in a lot of pain and it might mean i don't make any money this week if it's not better by the time i have to do my appointments at my day job on thursday. my need to create my personal passion projects is often at odds with my bad habits of not taking care of myself 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。

when it comes to tackling burnout, your guess is as good as mine. really it just comes down to rest. when burnout - real, true burnout - hits, it's not just "man i'm bored of working on this", it's "i can't even think of looking at this thing let alone working on it", it's basically akin to depression and it's an awful thing that i wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy (even with Rachel, I don't want to psychoanalyze her mental health but it does seem like she's possibly been experiencing burnout with LO for years now and that really sucks for her if that's true). so the solution is just as complicated as the cause, it's not something that you can just rest from for a week and come back from, it takes real long-term healing.

when I found my way out of that 2 year hiatus, it was in spring of 2019 and I decided to just work on a random comic page that wasn't even in the comic I was working on. and then suddenly it was like a switch flicked back into the on position and i didn't even finish what i was working on, i just went back to my original project and i kept working on it until it was finally finished at the end of 2021. as suddenly and randomly as it had set in, it was gone. but i can't just do the same thing this time, it just doesn't work that way.

that said, through all this, i've learned that my need to create is not restricted to any one tangible thing, i'm not doomed or designed to stick with the same words, the same faces, the same ideas until the end of time. while i do try to keep up healthy routines for myself to ensure i'm looking out for my future self and their deadlines and their upload schedules, sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. and in my case, the heart wanted to take a break from the self-reflective psychological analysis dark fantasy weebo stuff and just draw some pink and blue characters a little less ugly. the self-reflective weebo shit will still be there when i'm done with the pink and blue stuff, and i'll surely have loads of new things to unpack through it once i return.

there are still times when i'm working on rekindled and i'm feeling the creeping hand of my routine destruction digging its claws into my back. the reality is that 30-40 panels is still a lot for someone like myself who's doing this entirely for free, but my definition of normal for a while was so insanely inhumane that even what's still considered a lot by most people's standards feels sane and normal to me after what i put myself through.

i've learned to be more gentle with myself, and to loosen my own expectations of what i'm capable of to ensure i don't do anything like that to myself, by myself, again. i give myself room to create without expectations or the pressure of eyes watching when i can, and i remind myself that even if burnout rears its head again, and again, and again, the will to create is not gone. it's just tired, and resting, and growing, and healing as i am.

anyways that turned into a self-reflective essay post, to answer your question about making stuff ahead of time, i find that's more helpful with just like, planning out a structured story (so you don't write yourself into a corner) but whether or not it helps with burnout kind of depends. because it can just as also easily be the cause of the problem because constantly seeing the stuff you wanna be drawing so far away can be just as much of a morale killer as a motivator. some of the stuff i'm super psyched to write and draw with time gate is years away and that timeline grows longer the more the burnout goes on which makes the struggle feel even more overwhelming and pointless and defeating. so plan ahead, but keep it all within your means if you can. i find what works for me is planning out just general beat-to-beat plot structures (to ensure i at least have a plot skeleton going on so i know where i'm going) then i leave the finer details to when the actual episode i've planned gets closer to fruition and i can get myself in the headspace to write it fully.

also remember that just because you're really excited and motivated to work on your comic doesn't mean you should work yourself into exhaustion - it's a good thing if you're going through the mundane of your daily routine and the whole time you're hyped af to work on your hobby/personal project/etc. because that's what will keep you moving forward, so don't spend all that hype in one place by working and working and working until you're exhausted, because that hype is REALLY hard to get back after you've spent it all.

long post over! hope that helps! best of luck in your projects! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

#also aaah thank you for the nose compliment haha #i love drawing different kinds of noses <3 #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything #self post

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Dynasty of Flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon’s firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth. 

Aemond being uptight af and Aegon being the most adorable wingman. Some lighthearted sibling banter??

Warnings: Incest (duh), swearing.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,

Part 4

When night came and supper was over and done with, Aegon visited Aemond's chamber's before he could make himself scarce and busy himself with his nightly endeavours into the city. Aegon and his younger brother had never been close as children but after the loss of Aemond's eye, the older boy had become a touch closer to him. They wouldn’t say they were the best of friends; but they were brothers, bound by blood and they seemed to have developed a certain understanding of being there to aid the other if there ever was a need for it.

"Brother!" Aegon pushed opened the door and waltzed in, not bothering to knock. He'd formed quite a habit of doing this; It was a habit that Aemond found most annoying.

"I truly appreciate you knocking and awaiting my permission for you to enter" the younger boy nonchalantly spoke, not lifting his gaze from his book. Aemond was rather serious about his studies and was engrossed in penning down his thoughts about the histories of his ancestors to discuss with the maester during his next lesson.

"Our Y/N is back at court, and you are spending the evening with your nose stuck in these books instead of between her legs" Aegon plopped himself on the bed, avoiding the twisted look on Aemond's face as a reaction to his vulgarity "Tis not your face that makes you undesirable, it is your boring disposition"

Aemond heaved a sigh at his brother's subtle attempt at providing assurance that Aemond's condition did not contribute to him never being able to court someone. In all honesty, Aemond knew his appearance made him frightening, the cruel whispers and harsh rumours were not a secret to him; Yet, he did not argue with Aegon over it, he wasn’t in the mood to do so.

"Don't you have some catching up to do in your lessons of High Valyrian?" Aemond raised a brow, maintaining his stoic expression. Aegon simply scoffed in response.

"That is not the matter of importance" he added "Helaena and I had supper along with Y/N, she mentioned your disinterest in her arrival"

"That is far from the truth" it was Aemond now who scoffed "I am rather pleased to be reacquainted with her"

"And how have you made it evident?"

"Pardon?"

"How have you shown her that you are joyous to have her back at your side?" Aegon repeated "from what I've heard, you barely uttered two words at a time. If this is how you think you are going to win over a lady, I'm afraid you will die alone like-"

"Win over? I'm not trying to compete with anyone for her hand" Aemond made a face, interrupting Aegon's rant.

"That's exactly what I'm saying brother, you aren’t trying" Aegon face palmed "Do you want to be the bloke applauding with the rest of the crowds when she kisses her husband in the sept? No, exactly"

Aemond raised a brow when his brother did not even let him answer that question. The younger prince had never thought much about the prospect of marrying her because he felt it was an obvious occurrence. Aegon had taken Helaena as wife and Aemond would take Y/N. Even after the fight with Jace and Luke, he did not seem to have doubts about it; Who else would a dragon, like herself, take to husband? He had never taken any romantic interest toward her, it was simply his knowledge of what duties he would have to perform; including a marriage to the princess Y/N, who fortunately was also his close companion.

"I do not have to worry about it" Aemond once again turned toward his books, dipping his quill into the tiny glass pot of ink "though not formally announced, Y/N is going to be betrothed to me-"

"Is that why you are so negligent? Gods there is no guarantee of your betrothal to her. And we both know Y/N wishes to find a loving match, not some noble who is obligated to marry her" Aegon was disappointed that Aemond was taking this opportunity of her return to court for granted based on some baseless assumption.

"Yes I do recall her mentioning her long list of requirements if she were to wed anyone but that was when we were children" Aemond reminded with a stern tone "the reality is that we have no say in who we marry. It is a duty and I'm sure a smart lady such as herself, is not still blinded by her childish delusions"

"Then need I break you out of your delusions that have you believing that you are the only eligible candidate for her hand?" the older boy snapped "There is Cregan Stark, Willem Blackwood, Dalton Greyjoy. should I go on?"

"Why does it bother you so?" Aemond was a touch annoyed at the mention of other lords who Aegon had claimed to have an equal chance at wedding Y/N "what if I do not care if I wed her or not"

Lies. Aemond did not understand why he was aggravated by the thought of someone else taking Y/N as wife, but nonetheless, he was clenching his jaw with annoyance.

"You do not fool me" Aegon chuckled "You may have even managed to trick yourself into thinking that you no not care for Y/N but I can see, clear as day, that you fancy her"

"Fuck off" Aemond unintentionally pressed the quill rather harshly against the parchment, causing it to snap and leave an ugly inkblot "look what you just did!"

"Me?" Aegon cried out defensivly "the quill is in your hand you twat!"

"Get out" Aemond snapped. He was rather particular about his notes and did not like even a hint of untidinesses within the pages of his book.

"Gladly, you aren’t exactly a joy to talk to anyway" Aegon childishly stuck out his tongue and Aemond reacted to it by ripping out the page with the inkblot, crumpling it and throwing it straight at his older brother "Oh and if you’re done sulking at the sincerity of my words, be a good friend and meet Y/N in the library like you promised"

Aemond tilted his head in confusion.

"I never promised her anything"

"Well I did, on your behalf" Aegon beamed proudly "oh don’t give me that look. You are going to that library and spending the evening with her"

Aemond rolled his eye. He shut his book, rather aggressively before he rose from his chair and Aegon too immediately stood up.

"Out" Aemond once again commanded.

"Out" Aegon mimicked him and quickly rushed out the door before Aemond could throw something else at him; and by the look Aemond gave him, it most certainly wouldn’t be something as light as a crumpled ball of paper.

Aemond was surprised to find the library rather dimply lit as opposed to how bright it used to be around this hour. Furthermore, it was quiet, except for the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace and the distant sound of light footsteps.

Aemond cleared his throat before he walked past some shelves, in hopes of finding where Y/N might be. He wanted to call out her name, or perhaps in this case, address her formally by her title since they were in the presence of others as well but he did not act on it. He did not want to disturb any of the other maesters who were reading though he was a bit unsure as to why they did not light all the candles in the room and instead left the place looking borderline dark.

"Aemond"

The boy turned toward the direction from which the voice came and saw Y/N's head peaking out from behind one of the many and large shelves. Aemond held his hands behind his back as he took took long strides toward her.

"How nice of you to agree to see me princess" He gave her a curt nod "I take it Aegon told you?"

"I know you did not ask for me to come see you here at this hour and that it was Aegon who set this up" the girl chuckled and Aemond gazed at her inquisitively "From what I've gathered through your letters you'd written to me all these years, you do not like visiting the library after supper since it is the time most of the maesters are found here, reading some old scrolls"

Aemond grinned at her sharpness and he felt a warm feeling in his chest at the thought of her remembering such a small detail about him that he had maybe mention barely once or twice ages ago.

"Speaking of, the library does seem rather vacant" He mentioned. It was quiet and if there were any maesters present, they most certainly did not shush the princess and the loudness of her voice.

"Because it is" she smiled up at him "I know you like reading in the library only when it is empty. So, I requested for the maesters to leave the library to myself for the evening. I am sure you will hear them muttering swears directed at me on the morrow"

Like hell they will, Aemond thought. He was rather protective of her and it was no secret that the prince did not tolerate any ill words against the princess. The whispers surrounding himself he could withstand but a word against his childhood friend and he would immediately snap.

"So, you wish to read?" he asked and Y/N almost giggled at how uptight and awkward he seemed.

"If we aren’t going to talk, I suppose reading is what we could settle for instead" she turned around to reach up and grab one of the books from the shelves, a book she was eyeing only moments before she caught sight of Aemond.

The prince walked closer and tried to help grab the book for her instead, failing to foresee the position in which he would entrap her. As he stretched him arm toward the high shelf, he leaned forward and his body pressed up against Y/N's back, his fingers gently grazing her's before her hand dropped. She turned slightly and the tip of her nose brushed against his jaw. Aemond suddenly was aware of how close they both were and he just froze, his one arm, still outstretched and now gripping at the wooden shelf-board.

"You've barely spoken to me the whole time I've been here" Y/N blurted out, her voice almost a whisper "what's changed?"

"So much" Aemond replied with a slight nod of his head, still quite unable to move.

Y/N scoffed at him when he once again responded to her with a vague choice and limited amount of words.

"I won't be here at the keep forever, Aemond" she looked up at him, not fully turning around; not at all caring that their bodies were still pressed together "all those instances of you writing to me that you miss me, it means nothing when you make it so obvious that you never did. I do not want you writing to me all over again about how you long for my company at court when you make no effort to converse while I am here. Do not complain to me later when you find out you missed your chance"

"Missed my chance?" Aemond asked.

"Once I am betrothed, you can’t-"

"We are to be betrothed" the prince stated as a matter-of-factly.

"When was this decided?" the girl scoffed again as she looked up at him in utter confusion "you have never asked for permission to court me let alone asking for my hand"

"I did not have to ask" he responded in the same tone as before "It is common knowledge that I would take you as my wife"

"Did you just assume we would be wed indefinitely? Did it never occur to you that our families are not the closest" Y/N snapped at him "and furthermore did you think I would agree to wed someone who doesn’t seem to want to so much as talk to his betrothed?"

"You would marry someone based on the number of words they speak to you instead of the happy life they would give you? Perhaps you ought to marry a parrot then" Aemond rolled his eye, trying his best to not sound rude but he knew he sounded nothing too nice when he said that "forgive me, I did not intend to offend but you must know that marriage is a duty-"

"Oh so you would marry me solely out of duty" Y/N chuckled mockingly. She most certainly did not like the way Aemond was describing his reasoning behind a possible marriage to her "let me save you the trouble. I do not want to marry a man who thinks he's merely fulfilling some obligation by taking me as his wife. There, now you need not be so cold toward me. I formally free you from your 'duty' of having to wed me, if that was ever even discussed in secret and kept from me"

And with that, Y/N pushed him away and stormed out. She did not hate the notion of marrying Aemond, he was of course her closest friend when they were little. And over the years, she thought they were still close since they wrote to each other a lot. But now that Aemond told her that marriage is a duty, she concluded that the only reason behind his frequent letters was only to form a marriage alliance. She wondered if Rhaenyra and her kepa were aware of this supposed notion of the both of them being betrothed, though she mildly doubted it given the tension between both their families. Yet, if it was something discussed, maybe to form some sort of peace between both parties, she would be very upset that no one bothered telling her.

Meanwhile Aemond grunted in annoyance and slammed his fist down on the wooden surface. He did not mean to sound so rude. He did miss her and did want to talk to her like how they used to as kids but over the years he had turned into this rather closed-off person who never spoke too much and when he did, his tone was always icy and sharp. He also regretted bringing up the topic of marriage since he knew it was never officially discussed and it was solely based on his assumptions.

Heaving a long sigh, he retreated to his own chambers. He wanted to go after Y/N and apologies but he knew he would only mess things up further. So instead, he decided to resort to writing her an apology. Aemond was rather good with words when it came to penning them down instead of having to say them aloud.

He knew if he did not fix this now, he could forget ever receiving any letters from her when she would depart beck to Dragonstone.

Grabbing a new quill from the drawer at his desk, he began to write:

"Ñuha dōna Y/N..."

"My sweet Y/N..."

taglist: @ladybug0095 @sahvlren @bunny24sstuff

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #hotd #house of the dragon #tom bennett #world on fire #aemond #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond headcanons #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #daemon targaryen #daemon smut #aegon targaryen #aegon smut

[zaidthefeederist]

Giving in to gluttony : A fit to fat story (part 1)

We were both at the gym after work just like most days. This is where we first met. I saw you on the squat rack and was enamored by your beauty (and the perfect ass you had definitely helped). I approached you and we went on a date and had been dating since then. Though we both were fitness freaks (i still am) there's a part of me i haven't told you about. A part of me that would rather have you tied up in my bed sporting a fat belly so big it hangs to your knees. I've kept it in check for as long as i can, you had only gained 10 pounds in our 4 months together and a lot of that has been muscle definition since we started working out. Today however, it all changes. One faithful injury changes everything.

"This….freaking….sucks" I say grumpy as I sit next to you in the car. We just came back from the first aid room. I look at my leg and shake my head "no lifting, no cardio…and no rock climbing for 6 months?!" I cross my arms and sigh "That also means I really have to watch what I eat…else I end up like one of those fat girls at the gym" The other day we had been making jokes about a chubby girl that was struggling to do basic cardio

"god i know baby, its not fair at all. Not having you at the gym is going to make me lose all my motivation, not to mention who else will i make fun of the fatties with" i look to you after we both laugh to ourselves.."dont worry though babe. ill take good care of you, You know i've been making myself a better and better cook. Ill make sure your diet goes exactly according to plan.." i say as i keep my hand on your toned thigh, giving it a rub and feeling ecstatic and the though of having a home bound girlfriend for 6 whole months.

**2 weeks later**

"im so bored" I sigh before taking another cookie that you made me. "Im usually at the gym right now" Another cookie goes into my stomach. I dont seem to notice the little bit of pudge that was pressing on to my waistband when I sat down like this. You had noticed that I did a lot of "boredom eating"…and recently…I had also started snacking when I was stressed or feeling a little down.

"Im done babe!" i yell, having baked another batch of cookies. The last 2 weeks have been heavenly. Turns out when liz is left to her own devices with nothing else to do, she becomes rather peckish. Its nothing insane yet but she'll never say no to a little treat every now and then. With the absence of the gym and with me making sure to always make every meal of hers just a bit more heavy, she's managed to maintain her weight at 140 pounds albeit with a major bonus. If before she was toned and slightly muscular, now shes lost her definition and is even developing a little pudge. I see her belly pressing against her waistband as she snacks on one of the cookies i made her and see it press further and further against the band as she makes the tray of cookies magically disappear.

You always made sure to take the plates away or split it in multiple portions, so I had no idea how much I was actually eating in a day. after finishing the third tray of cookies that day you see I am rubbing my belly…I was getting full and I hadn't even eaten a meal! "My tummy is a bit upset" I say as I rub it. "better drink something" I grab the glass of soda that you had brought me. I drink all of it in one go. "I can't believe this is actually sugar free" I say surprised "it tastes like one of those cheap soda's that is super b-BRUUAUUAUAAAAAAAAAP-ad " I look wide eyed and cover my mouth with a blush "s-sorry!"

"Haha that was pretty cool!" i say immediately so as to not make you think i dislike it. I cant let you know that youve given me a hard on with that deep nasty belch, at least not yet. "I don't mind babe" i say as i nuzzle in right next to you on the bed. "in fact if anything it lets me know you really enjoyed whatever i made for you so no need to apologize." i say as i keep my hand on your bloated stuffed belly, giving it a good rub. "I guess you reallly loved those cookies huh, hehe"

"I-I do" I say blushing as you rub my belly…it felt good, but it also made me a bit aware of the fact that I was softer now. "I mean…its just not very lady like to burp like that right?" I smile as you roll your eyes at me "BRUUAAAAP…ooohhff but it does make my tummy feel better"

I moan to myself making sure you don't hear me. "I'm glad you like them" i reply, both to your answer and to that big burp you let out. We spend a few more minutes like this with me rubbing your rounded gut, making you get used to the feeling, making you love my hands on your tummy, making you know i like those un-lady like burps. Im slowly easing your mind into its new state. The state of pure gluttony. Before i get up from bed i decide to try one more thing, i grab your belly and give it a hard pinch and lean up next to your ear "You were a good girl today, keep eating like this and soon you'll be like those fatties at the gym". I whispered it and said it in a teasing tone, but i could tell by your breathing…it did its job. My eyes go wide and my face goes dark red. Did he really just say that?…Is he making a joke?…why do I like him teasing and humiliating me?! I look down and my heart beats even faster, judging by the bulge in your pants…you really liked seeing me like this. "w-what?….a-are you trying to make me fat?" I ask in a soft voice. You just smile, gently kiss my belly before squeezing it again and leave with the empty plates…Am I really going to get fat?

#feedee belly #feedee encouragement #feeding kink #feedee piggy #stuffed feedee #girl burp #fat belly #belly expansion #fit to fat #force fed #manipulation #feedee girl #wg text #teasing #chubby #feederist #short story #feedee story

[luminiscented]

can you believe there’s no Zane smut out there? what if you wrote one? /j unless…?

Doing good

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Summary: Zane comes back to you after a tough day. He decides to pamper you extra today.

Type: Oneshot

Pair: Zane x fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut/NSFW, spanking, begging, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, NO BETAAA

A/n: Hi anon!! Sorry for the delay, I've been having trouble with my new schedule since I'm at school from 14 to 20,,

Zane walked back into his bedroom, the nindroid letting out small huffs of frustration after the rough day he had. That had taken a toll on him. It was visible. Especially obvious to you who was rolling around in his bed nude, a small booklet in your delicate hands. The master of Ice walked in to the sight of your round butt sticking out while you flipped the pages, and he couldn't be happier to get a bit of motivation and a chance to do good for once today. At the sound of the door, you turned around on your back, your thighs spreading and revealing your gentle heat as you smiled welcomingly. The book dropped from your hands as he gently leaned down to kiss you, running his cold hands along your spine and waist as he nuzzled his nose against yours and he kissed you.

""Mm..hello.." You muttered against his lips as he rubbed his nose against yours.

"Hello, beautiful." He whispered before he gave you another sweet kiss, his thumb gently rubbing your inner thigh as his head went slightly down to nip at your neck. His hands moved back up, his fingers pressing onto your lower back.

"You want me to rub your back?" Zane asked as he saw the satisfied smile on your plump lips from the pressure on your tense muscles. You didn't waste a second in your silent answer, turning on your stomach and placing your head on top of your arms. You groaned quietly as your boyfriend started massaging the tension out of your back, your soft skin shining under the dim light and each one of the dimples on your waist seeming prettier every second you layed like this - thighs spread to let him get closer, ass sticking out, spine perfectly bend, the small chub of fat on your lower back begging to be rubbed and kissed...you were the woman of his dreams, a warm soft woman, in perfect contrast to him.

The nindroid kept going on with his tender rubs and massages as he leaned down to kiss your shoulders occasionally, his crotch rubbing against your ass.

When you think about it, this was the first time you and Zane got the bounty to yourselves in so long. And something clicked in his brain, in his system. He wanted to surprise you, to get you more exited. You never complained about the soft lovemaking and the gentle touches, but even he knew that it was bound to get boring someday. Who knows, maybe he was needier today, or you were just touchier, but he wanted something more thrilling than the weekly gentle vanilla fucking you two did, not that he would use such a word.

With a shaky move of his hands he lifted your hips up, his fingers finding your heat and slipping in cautiously, waiting to hear a reaction before going further. You spread your thighs further for him, your back arching a bit more as you felt him going in knuckles deep. You shifted, the pillow muffling the soft moan that came out of your mouth.

"Can you rub that place? You know, that one?" You teased sweetly, trying to ease him into the whole thing. Zane started scissoring you, spreading you, circling your entrance, before plunging in gently again. A soft whine came out of your lips as he rubbed your g-spot with precision, as he added pressure, as he dared to press with his short fingernails as he pulled out to rub your clit. You wanted to cum all over his fingers already, you were almost there, almost..your cunt was dripping all over his digits, small droplets were falling down your thighs before he pulled them away. You whined in shock as you got denied for the first time in your relationship.

"Quiet." He mumbled, his hand pressing your head against the mattress gently. You felt another wave of heat go through your lower half. You exhaled shakily as your flower got only wetter from the change in his attitude. You heard the rustling of his gi falling down his body and soon enough you felt Zane's cock teasing you, rubbing against your wet folds, pushing the tip only enough to spread them. He teased your tight hold with the tip, rubbing it and stretching it, making you really crave him as his hands held onto your waist, force enough to leave bruises.

Zane thought for a moment before giving your ass a soft slap. "Well?" He asked in a silky voice, his tember already making you drool at the thought of him taking you like that.

"Please.."

"Please what?"

"Please stuff me..."

He gave you another slap on the ass as he took the belt of his gi, wrapping it around your wrists behind your back before he leaned in to press a kiss onto your shoulder. His hand found your head, pressing down with gentle force, rubbing your lower lip with his middle finger as he pushed in slowly. His hand landed on your ass as he went all the way in. His hips started moving against yours, his lips spread to let out laboured breaths and small shy grunts as he pounded into you. Your hands gripped the belt they were tied with as you panted, moaned and groaned in ecstasy at his pressision, as his length massaged your insides perfectly to send you into an orgasm. Zane pulled out and slammed himself back in, listening to your pleads and the broken sounds of his name as he gripped your hair.

"I need to... please, I need..to..." You whimpered, his thrusts cutting you off each time. His hand slapped you again and again, skin jiggling under his touch as he felt you finish around his cock, you sweet sugar syrup coating him and making him reach his peak as well, filling you up with his transfluids before pulling away and watching it drip from you.

"Was..that good..?" The nindroid panted.

"T'was fucking great.." You groaned quietly as you rolled over.

He did good for once today.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #lego ninjago masters of spinjitzu #ninjago x reader #zane julien #ninjago zane x reader #zane x reader #ninjago zane #zane ninjago

[adastra121]

Touchstarved x The Amazing Devil

Since I use a bunch of The Amazing Devil songs on my Touchstarved OC playlists, I decided to match them to each of the main LIs. They're mostly the romantic songs, I highlighted the words that made me think of the characters.

Kuras= “Inkpot Gods.” Fighting god for the one you love. Walking a lonely path. The wild feeling of breaking free from the fate you thought you were bound to, the one you believed you deserved. Rewriting tragedy into redemption.

“Oh, what? These, these aren't tears. It's just the rain that wasn't brave enough to fall.”

“And what you see is not the dark, It’s just the gods upturning ink pots 'cause they know what you’ll become.”

"And to those gods, I will speak bluntly 'We've an accord, if you ever touch or harm him Please, rest assured that you might not fear a man But to me, by the end, you'll kneel and plea. 'Cause I'm more than what they all told me to be.'"

"And I wish that I could take their hand, But where I'm going is for me and me alone."

"If I don't make it back from where I've gone, Just know I loved you all along."

Leander= “Fair.” Mostly just vibes. Maybe it’s the gentle guitar, the autumnal sound. A space of solace, so achingly and heartwarmingly normal. The hint of insecurity and bitterness toward the world. The charming awkwardness and humour. I don’t know, this song sounds like Leander's giving you a hug. XD

"And he, he curses at the world For leaving him behind, and he's falling out of touch And they are stronger than he's ever been, he knows."

"And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all Like petals in a storm."

"And calm throughout his melodrama They will turn and say, 'Dear heart, it's me, it's me. You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not.'"

"'How unfair, how unfair,' they'll sing As they dance across the darling rooftop wreck."

Vere= “That Unwanted Animal.” It’s either feral in a horny way or horny in a feral way. I don’t know which. Both, maybe? I imagine this is what it’d be like if Vere devoured you.

"And as you grip me like an animal that you're about to spear 'Be good to me,' I whisper."

"I'm the touch you crave, I'm the plans that you made, But fuck all your plans, I'm bored! ‘And can't you hear that scratching?’ I ask your eyes."

"And we fall into each other, the scratching grows so loud Because that unwanted animal wants nothing more than to get out… Oh, and you rip my ribcage open and devour what's truly yours."

"'Be good to me,' I beg of him. And he replies, 'No, no, not I.'"

Ais= “Ruin.” The wreckage after a storm. The strength and the fight inside you that has helped you survive until now being the very thing that destroys what matters to you. Ill-timed jokes. Unspoken regrets. Second chances among the ruin. Also the bird sounds throughout, because, you know. Sparrow. Hehe.

"Our mortar was your laughter And you hurled curses at the land. We didn't talk, we made universes Out of bitten lips and broken hands." This is basically the summary of Ais's scenes in the demo

Mhin= “Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious.” Not belonging, but desperately wanting to. Screaming silence and yearning to be heard. Chance meetings with someone else on the outside looking in. Being outsiders together. Oh, and there’s a cat.

"And I know I won't be long 'Cause I know I don't belong."

"As all my steps too far keep telling me 'This is who you are,' I should go home. I'm not lonely. I just like being on my own."

"Now I'm lying on a bed full of coats Trying desperately to cope. When you open up the door, say something stupid like 'You're lying on some coats,' I say, I know."

#I changed up some of the lyrics to be gender-neutral so they'd fit the mc #raise your hand if you would fight god for kuras — I don't know if we have to in his route #just. I'm prepared to. #I don't know why kuras strikes me as the kind of person to confess his love right before doing something self-sacrificing #“inkpot gods” hits pretty hard with an unnamed!mc actually #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved leander #touchstarved vere #touchstarved ais #touchstarved mhin #red spring studio #the amazing devil #character themes #sort of #song recommendation #I wanted to post this earlier but Tumblr ate it so #let's try this again

[mushiewrites]

Sleepy Experiments

It is officially lee!George week! :D I'm so excited I finally got to do something like this - I've had this idea since @fluffallamaful did an incredible lee!Dream MONTH last June, and truthfully I've wanted to do this since last August but....better late than never, right? 😇 I also wanna just thank @awkwardtickleetoo for helping me with everything - prompts, ideas, proof reading, etc. Cal is literally there for me always and Im so grateful for him, he truly is my lil knight ):

day 1 - soft tickles / prompts found here!

(lee!George / ler!Dream : 3.8K words)

“Dream! Stohop!” George was met with yet another poke to his side, jerking his body to the left to escape Dream’s finger. He let out a sigh in fake frustration, fully aware that Dream was bound to become bored as they’d been attempting to nap with no success for a little while now. George had almost drifted to sleep multiple times, but every single time he did, he was met with a poke from the restless blonde boy.

“George! I cahan’t!” The elder couldn’t help but giggle at the mocking as Dream leaned his cheek against his right palm, elbow propped onto the bed beside him while he wiggled his free pointer finger in the air in front of George’s face to tease him. The brunette quickly swatted it away, making Dream let out a huff of amused air through his nose before making a move to poke George again. “Just a little!”

“Nohoho! Leave mehehe alone!” 

“Come on, Georgie, please? I promise I’ll be reaaaaally gentle. And maybe it’ll help me sleep!” Dream stuck out his bottom lip as far as it would go as he held out his words, the pout matching the puppy dog eyes he was using to melt the Brit. George let his head fall back onto the pillow beneath him, letting out a groan and bringing his right arm up to cover his eyes to prevent him from seeing how closely Dream was focusing on him. 

“I- I mean- why? Just- …ugh, fine.” George winced when Dream let out a squeal of excitement, dropping his arm back against the blankets and cracking an eye open to see Dream quickly push himself into a kneeling position beside him. “You have to be so gentle though, Dream! I mean it! One wrong move and you’re done.”

“I promise to be so gentle!” The blonde smiled at the warning, tapping George’s thigh twice before continuing. “Do you mind turning over for me, George?” 

George felt his cheeks fill with warmth, nodding his head with a quiet whine as he adjusted himself to lay on his tummy. He felt the familiar weight of the younger boy settling on the back of his thighs, jumping slightly when Dream hooked two fingers under his shirt and began revealing the pale skin beneath it. He felt goosebumps spread across the expanse of his back as the cool air blanketed every inch of it, making him squirm slightly with a shiver and growling at Dream when he giggled at the involuntary movement. 

“Do you really have to lift my shirt up for this?” His voice was more high pitched than he expected it to be and swallowed thickly, looking over his shoulder at Dream and coughing slightly to adjust it back to the normal tone. “I mean, it seems a bit excessive.” 

Dream let out a scoff at the passive protest, tilting his head slightly to the right when he saw the tips of George’s ears turning a light pink. He chuckled as he continued to slowly drag the black T-shirt up until it was sitting just below the bottom of his shoulder blades. George felt the fabric glide lightly across his skin when Dream released his grip, making him squirm briefly at the soft tickly feeling. 

“Oh George, if that bothered you, how are you gonna handle the actual tickles?” Dream cooed, smiling as the smaller boy began to squirm a little more at the thought of the soft tickles that awaited him. Dream swiped a pointer finger just below both his shoulder blades and chuckled when the smaller boy screeched, pushing his face into the pillow and muffling a nervous giggle that he couldn’t keep in any longer.

“Wahatch it! I can stop this right now, you know!” George threatened as he adjusted his arms, folding them underneath the pillow before laying his head back down against the soft fabric. 

“What?! No! Please don’t!” The tone of his voice sent a small dagger into George’s chest, melting him instantly. He knew that Dream was fully joking, but the fake hurt in the younger’s voice made George want to let Dream tickle him forever.

“I…I won’t,” He sighed in defeat. “Just…be careful, okay?” 

George was met with a small chuckle in response, giggling himself when he felt Dream’s fingers touch down just under his shoulder blades and wiggle lightly against the warm skin there. He twisted his fists up into the pillowcase, squeezing the fabric between his fingers in an attempt to keep his arms raised.

Dream continued to softly skitter his fingers over George’s back, spreading his hands further apart to trail up and down the sides of his spine. He arched into the bed as Dream’s right pointer finger traced back up his spine and between his shoulder blades, giggling harder and kicking his feet against the covers a few times to relieve some of the tickly energy that was coursing through his body.

“You’re cute when you’re all squirmy like this.” The blonde stated, no teasing tone to be found in his voice. This only further proved to fluster George as his face grew hotter, making him turn to fully bury his face into the pillow. 

“Shuhut up!” George’s giggles were quickly morphed to cackles as Dream used both pointer fingers to walk under his shirt, scratching lightly at the sides of his armpits and following George whichever way he twisted. 

“It’s the truth! What am I supposed to do, lie to you?” Dream giggled from his spot on George’s thighs, flattening his palms and dragging them slowly down before spidering his fingers along the boy’s lower back. The brunette jumped in surprise at the sudden tickling, giggling harder and visibly struggling more and more the longer Dream focused there.

“Ahaha, please! I- Dreheheam! Gehehentle, plehease!” 

“Thihis is gentle! I’m not sure I could get any more gentle if I tried!” Despite his rebuttal, Dream pressed his palms down again into the pink skin of George’s lower back and began rubbing to help soothe the tingly feeling. 

“Thahahank you!” George’s laughter was slowly calming down, the pitch raised into tiny squeaks but becoming less frequent as the time passed. Dream felt his own cheeks filling with heat at the reply, rarely experiencing that level of politeness from the Brit. He leaned his body slightly to the left  to look at George, feeling his stomach fill with butterflies at how wide his smile was, and how happy he looked with his eyes squeezed and nose scrunched. 

“Anything for you, my little prince.” He was met with a high pitched whine followed by chirpy giggles, making Dream’s tiny grin grow into a full blown toothy grin.

After sitting back on George’s thighs again, adjusting himself to balance comfortably, Dream used his pointer and middle fingers from both hands and slowly walked them up George’s back, pressing in and wiggling slightly as they continued their journey from his lower back to just under his shoulder blades once more.

“I didn’t realize how sensitive your back was, Georgie. And here I am, just thinking I was the only one cursed with this weakness!” He continued to speak as he made little swirls with his fingers on the sides of George’s back, careful to not tickle too much over his back ribs in fear of disturbing the smaller boy’s state of sleepy bliss he was caught in. “I hope you know I’ll remember this.” 

“Whahahatever!” The brunette exclaimed, wiggling slightly as the soft tickling continued under his shirt and around his shoulder blades. He scrunched his shoulders up as high as they would go, shaking his head back and forth as tickly circles were drawn around the sensitive bones of his upper back, hugging the pillow as tightly as he could as a source of comfort.

The younger boy hummed in response, a smile clear in the tone as he removed his hands from under the shirt and made his way back down to the dimples of George’s back, tracing and skittering all ten of his fingers as he went. As much as he loved the sound of George’s cackling, squealing and giggling, he didn’t want to tire the boy out too soon. After another minute of gentle tickles around the sides of his lower back, Dream flattened his palms again and began to rub the entirety of George’s back, helping to calm him and work him through the giggles that continued to pour from him. 

Dream eventually made his way to George’s shoulders, helping relax them back down from being pressed up against his ears. He used his hands to squeeze the muscles there every few seconds, giving George a gentle massage as his giggles slowly dissolved. The blonde noticed how small George looked beneath him, his hands completely engulfing his shoulders and making Dream let out a chuckle at how tiny he actually was. George let out a contented sigh, ignoring the giggle and turning his head to lay his cheek on the blankets comfortably, closing his eyes just moments later. George could feel himself drifting off to sleep when suddenly his eyes shot open, Dream’s hands having moved closer to his neck and sending a horribly tickly sensation to his nerves. 

“Wait, whahat?! Nohoho!” The elder scrunched his shoulders up and attempted to block the sensitive muscle where his shoulders and base of his neck met, clearly surprised at how much it affected him. 

“Awh, what’s wrong, sweetheart, does someone have a sensitive neck?” 

“You knohohow I do!” 

The brunette buried his head into the blankets below him once again as he let out a squeal, feeling Dream’s fingers walking up the sides of his neck until he was directly under his ears on both sides. He began to gently flutter his fingers in the hypersensitive area, giggling to himself when George’s laughter rose in pitch until it was nothing but bright chirps and loud squeaks. 

“Listen to you, George! You’re like a little bird!” The older boy groaned through his giggles at the comment, not knowing whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. He didn’t have much time to dwell on that though as a tiny raspberry was suddenly placed below his right ear, making him screech and attempt to bring up his shoulder again. Unfortunately for George, Dream’s chin blocked it and another small raspberry was placed in the same spot. 

“NAHAHA P-PLEHEASE! G-Gehehentle, Dream!” 

The skitters against his skin turned into gentle rubs, taming George’s giggles almost instantly and allowing him to relax back into the touch.

“I know, I know. I just can’t help myself, George. You’re too cute when you get all scrunchy.” Dream giggled at his own words as he watched George melt into the blankets beneath him. He moved his pointer fingers to swipe at the shell of George’s ear to hear him squeal again before rubbing the ghost tickles out immediately after the action. 

“W-Well, you’re ahahan idiot!” 

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot. So that makes up for it, right?” 

George could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice and refused to answer out of spite, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing the stupid remark had made me smile, too. After a few more minutes of Dream soothingly rubbing over George’s shoulders, he tapped on the smaller boy’s back a few times to get his attention. 

“Is it okay if you turn onto your back for me? I wanna try something else.” The blonde was met with a small whine in response, but lifted himself slightly off of George’s thighs when Dream felt him begin to turn over anyway. Dream’s grin only grew when George flashed him a death glare, watching as he flopped himself down onto his back with an eye roll. 

“There. Happy?” 

Dream raised an eyebrow at the question as he looked George’s torso up and down, shaking his head slightly in disapproval as he lowered himself back onto George’s thighs. His eyes were glued to George’s shirt, which had fallen back down to cover his tummy as the smaller boy maneuvered himself just seconds before.

“I would be, but you messed up your shirt! Now I have to pull it up again.” Dream sighed in feigned annoyance. He made sure to meet George’s gaze as he slowly began to push his shirt up once again, this time stopping at the middle of his ribs and dragging his fingers down his sides once he was satisfied with the amount of tummy exposed. The brunette writhed with a high pitched giggle at the tracing on his sides, bringing his hands up to hide his face out of embarrassment. 

Dream slowly skittered his fingers lightly over George’s lower tummy, feeling the smaller boy squirm a little more than he had been as he kicked his feet pathetically against the bed behind him. The blonde used his pointer fingers to continue to trace up and down the sides of George’s tummy, listening to the many different types of giggles it produced while George continued to squirm. The elder did his best to try and allow the tickling, stopping his hands every time they moved from his face to try and grab Dream’s hands on instinct. 

“Do you know you scrunch your nose sometimes when you laugh?” Dream commented nonchalantly, making the blush from George’s cheeks spread to the tips of his ears and down the front of his neck. 

“I dohohn’t!” 

“And you blush like crazy. Right now you’re like a little rose, your cheeks are so red! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! My little blushy baby.”

“SHUT UHUHP!” George removed his hands from the safety of his own face and lunged forward, trying his best to clamp them over Dream’s mouth but squealing when his wrists were scooped up into one of the blonde’s big hands instead. 

“Oh, you want me to tickle your palms? You could’ve just asked, gorgeous!” Dream brought his chin down and began to lightly drag his beard over George’s palms, making him break out into bright cackles as he threw his head back. 

“N-Nahaha please! Nohohot there!” 

Dream knew that George had extremely sensitive palms, but also knew they worked incredibly well as melt spots when done correctly. Dream continued to slowly drag his chin back and forth over George’s hands until he felt the small fingers relax against his own cheeks, smiling and letting George press his fingers into them as he giggled along with the elder. 

“Dreheheam!” 

The blonde could tell that George was getting embarrassed, giggling quietly as he watched him squeeze his eyes shut while he attempted to hide his face into one of his shoulders. Dream decided to take pity on him, smile wide as he pulled back slightly to stop the tickling. 

“Okahay, okay. I guess I’m done experimenting....” Dream spoke with fake disappointment as moved his chin from its place hovering over George’s hands, holding them in his own and using both of thumbs to rub against George’s to help calm him. 

“Thahahank God.” He dropped his head back down against the pillow as he closed his eyes with a contented sigh, intending on allowing the rest of the giggles to run their course while he attempted to relax again. Dream raised an eyebrow at that, taking it as a small challenge and smirking when a new plan formed in his head.

“But actually, you know what? Maybe not!” Dream spoke suddenly, fingers releasing George’s hands and allowing both of his own to fall down to rest on the tops of his thighs.

“Wahahait, why?!” George felt a slight panic at the idea of more tickles after everything he’d already been put through, bringing his hands back to himself and crossing both arms over his torso for protection.

“I just realized I never got your poor little feet! How could I forget them, they need just as much attention as the rest of you, don’t they?”

“What?! Nohoho! We- We’re supposed tohoho be nahahapping!” George was quick to protest, launching his hands forward and gripping onto Dream’s wrists as tight as he could to keep him in place. Dream’s grin grew wider at that reaction, getting the desired results and deciding to continue the teasing.

“I could even do that thing you like so much!” Dream flashed him a smile as he ignored George’s words, only interested in continuing the topic he had introduced. George knew by asking he would only get more flustered, but he was too curious and too stubborn to allow Dream to get away with gatekeeping whatever thought he was currently having at his own expense. 

“...What thing…?” He was hesitant, his voice wavering when the question finally spilled out moments later. The blonde giggled brightly at that, pulling at his arms a little to feel that George still had a tight grasp on them.

“Well,” Dream began to explain, shrugging his shoulders as he thought for a moment before continuing. “You know that thing. The shoe thing! The one where I take one off and leave one on?”

“Dre- NMM HMM?!” George opened his mouth to speak, but Dream was quick to break out of the smaller boy’s grip, placing a hand over his mouth to muffle the protests as he continued. 

“To be gentle, of course! Not for any other reason. And then I’d take the one sock off, too. And I’d leave the other foot alone, still protected. Isn’t that nice of me, only focusing on one foot instead of two?”

George let go of the wrist he still was holding and grabbed the hand over his mouth, pulling it off and flinging it away from himself as far as Dream would let it go. He quickly brought his arms up and flung them over his face once again as he felt his cheeks grow hotter by the second. George was shaking his head quickly, not saying anything verbally out of fear his voice would sound small and weak from how flustered he was.

“You can relax, I’m just teasing. That’s a little too intense for you for it to be considered gentle, isn’t it, sweetheart? You’re just too ticklish and too flustered, huh?” 

“What?! Dream, just- whahatever, shut up!” George whined behind his arms, letting out a small hiccup in surprise when Dream gripped his elbows and lowered his arms to reveal his face. He opened his eyes and was met with bright green ones staring back, rolling his own and pushing at Dream’s chest to move him back slightly.

“Alrihight, angel, I’m done tormenting you…for now.” The blonde adjusted himself from straddling George’s thighs to kneeling next to him again, this time pressing his knees against George’s side in an attempt to stay connected. 

“More like forever.” George made a move to sit up as he mumbled under his breath, pushing himself up onto his elbows only to fall back against the bed suddenly when he felt rapid squeezes digging into his inner thighs. He let out a wail and thrashed around frantically, his legs kicking out and arms flailing in every direction. 

“NAHAHAHA! D-DREHEHEHEAM NOHOHO!” One of George’s hands gripped tightly into the comforter below him, pulling at it and trying his best to keep his arms to himself in an attempt to save himself from slapping Dream and making the tickling far worse than it already was.

The pinching stopped as quickly as it had started, allowing George to take in deep gulps of air as he continued to laugh himself silly. He pressed his knees together as he turned to the left side, curling in on himself and bringing a hand down to wedge between his inner thighs in an attempt to tame the ghost tickles that were still flowing throughout his legs. His free hand was covering the side of his face that was visible to Dream, attempting to keep the blonde from seeing George’s rapidly growing blush.

“I’m sorry, but I had to! You were getting cocky with me,” The blonde giggled, stretching his left arm out and placing it on the smaller boy’s arm and rubbing it soothingly to try and help calm his nerves. He let out a bright giggle when George jolted at the sudden touch, clearly anticipating more tickles. Dream moved his hand up George’s arm and into the older boy’s hair, gently ruffling it. “But it was only for a second! I promise I’m done now, baby.”

“Ohohonly a second?! It’s my thighs, Dreheheam! You know how they are!” George rolled his eyes as he moved his hand to reveal his face, barely meeting Dream’s gaze. He felt a chill run down his spine as soon as the words passed his lips, noticing the flame they ignited in Dream’s eyes as he stared down at him with a smirk.

“Oh yeah? Do I know how they are, Georgie?” The brunette squirmed at the words, moving to cover his face once again to hide himself from Dream.

“Yes!” George spat back in annoyance, feeling his face heat up once again at the teasing tone in the younger boy’s voice. George felt the bed dip and suddenly he felt lips against the shell of his ear, barely grazing it and causing him to yelp. He made a move to cover the spot with his hand instead, but Dream had anticipated this and was quick to lightly grip George’s wrist, keeping it where it was against his blushy cheek.

“Hmmm…maybe I do. But don’t worry! We can explore that another day, just to make sure I really know,” Dream purred into his ear, making George let out a high pitched whine from the sudden closeness of the blonde. “Preferably on a day where I’m feeling particularly cruel. Does that sound good, kitten?”

Dream released his grip on the tiny wrist in his hand, chuckling when the brunette scrambled to sit up while the blonde made a move to crawl to the edge of the bed. George could do nothing but watch with wide eyes as the younger boy stood up, making his way towards the door with a mischievous look on his face; like he was immediately planning George’s demise. 

“W-What about our nap?” 

“How could I possibly sleep now when I have, like, ten different ideas on how to absolutely wreck you floating around in my head? I’ll nap later.” Dream turned around one last time to flash him a teasy smile before exiting the bedroom and disappearing down the hallway, leaving George bright faced and breathless, anxiously sitting with the many questions that swirled through his mind of what Dream could possibly do to further tear him into ticklish little shreds.

#lee!george #ler!dream #YAAAAY ITS FINALLY HERE #this took forever to write but......i think im happy with it #this also may have been heavily aimed at a certain talented puppy we all know and love and adore #i waited until cal read this to post it bc i wanted to see his reaction and let me tell u #cutest hecking thing i stg #lets also thank cal for coming up with prompts with me and listening to me whine about this for months on end #and thank u to llama for doing the lee!dream event and giving me this idea in the first place!!! #and my bb mouse for reading this a few times during the writing process to tell me if it flows or not!!!!! #and summer for absolutely hyping the shit out of this #i will cry tbh i love my frens so much im just so excited ): #and thank u literally everyone who participates or interacts or reads or just silently lurks #like.......this is so cool what to hecc #mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff #mushies lee!george week

[thecameronchronicles]

Vanilla

TW: smut. Dom!Rafe. Language. 

SUMMARY: Rafe sets out to prove a point. 

WORD COUNT: 1500

REQUESTED

Hi ur writing is FUCKING PHENOMENAL. 

I have an idea:

Rafe overhears his gf talking to the girls about how their sex life is a little vanilla and so he fixes that👀🫡🫣 

💗🤩🏃🏻‍♀️💨

*THANK YOU SO MUCH! HOPE YOU LIKE IT!*

Vanilla 

"Rafe-" You questioned him solely by his name alone as he had led you from the steps of Tannyhill to his room, your body appreciated in such a way you had longed for up until now. Every single kiss was deepened and touch seemed longer as he made you breathless long before the door closed at your back. 

"Rafe-" 

"Shut up." Your eyes flashed widely in his direction. 

"Rafe..." You were allowed to say his name one last time before he took a harsh grip to your jaw. 

"I heard everything you said to your little friends...." He removed his shirt, your eyes magnetized to his muscles as they contracted effortlessly to every motion he made, "Vanilla...hmph?" He asked, drawing his belt from his hips in one swift sweep as you swallowed hard, eyes ablaze with lust. 

"I've only been 'vanilla' because I didn't want to scare you...because I didn't want to be too much...because trust me, baby...every single one of my depraved thoughts have you bent and broken in a way that having anything vanilla would be a vacation-a relief. But you're bored with that? Then let me show you everything else but 'vanilla'-" You were turned to the door, hands forced above your head, wrists bound by his belt, as he used the tail left by the leather to keep them above your head, as his second hand pulled your hair far and quick enough to make you gasp. 

"And just remember...YOU wanted this." He smacked your ass. "Get on your knees on the bed. Don't say a fucking word." He interrupted himself as you obeyed, excitedly eager to obey as you waited on the edge of the bed, just as he requested, nothing but ambition on the forefront. 

"You didn't understand. Turn away." He directed as you obeyed, "Wider-" He explained while then reaching between your legs and to that belt, pulling it tight until you were forced with your forehead against the bed and your ass remaining in the air. 

"Don't believe me? My sheets always smell like you...Sweat. Sex. And cum. My favorite scents from you..." He was quick to continue his thoughts as you tried to fathom this change in him. Unsure if you revelled in it or were more frightened by it. 

"I DO appreciate you saying I'm the biggest you've had...because we both know even just on your back, nobody has ever fucked you like me..." 

"Mmmhmm.." You agreed, feeling the need to validate him while also trying to keep obeying him. But this simple response would send another slap to your ass. 

"Ankles together." He demanded as you felt the bed suddenly shift behind you. 

"You deserve a reward for being so honest with them. But you make one sound and I'll give you a reason to whine every time you try to sit..." Before you could fathom his words in any context, you felt his tongue between your folds. Your lips retracted immediately as you gripped to the sheets beneath you to the best you could with the binds forced to remain. A scissored part of his fingers widened you to him, his tongue supplying torturous circuits throughout your clit and sex, drawing every nerve to his command, as he smirked to how you trembled. 

"You're desperate to get fucked, is that it? All this time I've been too sweet with you?" He smacked your ass again, your eyes screwing shut as you nodded. 

"Then I hope you know what you're in for baby. Not even the prettiest of pleas are gonna stop me tonight." He warned. "So I hope you got enough romance before, baby. Because tonight..." He forced you to his face him, on your knees, as his hand was deceptively sweet at your cheek, only to finalize in a harsh grip through a makeshift ponytail made from your hair. 

"I'm gonna be as rough and hard as I've always wanted. You're gonna cry and beg. You're gonna hate me." He leaned down, his second hand tracing your bottom lip. 

"And when you realize you're too sore to walk...maybe even talk, you'll choke out a thank you...But right now...You're gonna choke on me." The button of his shorts was removed as he dropped the fabric to his ankles and held you at the erect curve of his cock, waiting for you to begin. 

"I know you were just being honest. But I'm gonna make you wish it WAS only vanilla after this..." He threatened, forcing you to take him to the extent of your throat. A violent gag made him grin as tears were immediate in your eyes. 

"Don't close them. I want you to see just how 'vanilla' this is-" He shot, your obedience instant as he lowered to kiss you, needing to validate his care for one final moment. 

"Better pay attention from now on baby...never know who's listening." He continued to use your throat as an outlet. 

"Just the tip!" He finally ordered. "Slowly-" But you wandered farther than this. Well aware where it was he was the most sensitive. The space beneath his cock, one dripping with your drool, would be met with your tongue as his hips flexed into you. 

"Fuck! You know JUST what to do, don't you baby? Too bad you can't listen..." He pulled you over his lap. A series of spanks and fingerings would pull you to an edge, only for you to be withdrawn. The rise and fall of ecstasy at the cusp of your patience had only inflame your desperations as you spoke his name in whimpers to showcase this. But through each strike of your skin or pistoning of his digits curving and stretching inside of you, you welcomed the torment as it exhilarated you in contrast to what you had been accustomed to. You loved how he was in prior instances, soft and smooth, his words silenced for the actions validating how he desired you. But this was a new level of want and need. So much so that there wasn't a section of your body he hadn't struck or gripped as he bent you as promised. Tears and pleas echoing behind desperate breaths as you ached and trembled before being set over him in a straddle. 

Your ass was raw from the strikes he had repressed until now. 

"I knew you'd take me so well, baby...But now you need to make me come. Those fucking moans and all that begging is making me need it...so give it to me-" 

"Please...my hands...untie me." But he would only set himself between your arms as you were guided to veil his cock inside of you. 

"I've made you come three times at least, so I know you're wet enough to fuck me hard. And I'm expecting you to. No fucking excuses. No pity. Show me you deserve my cum, baby, yeah?" You would be prompted to begin, his fingers guiding you for only a moment before you took the lead. 

"That's fucking it! That's my good girl, riding my cock like a whore...but you're good for me...so good..." 

"Yes!" He gripped the back of your neck, rooting you in place. 

"You think THIS is vanilla?" He asked with a hand coming to your throat, "You like being choked, dirty girl? Clenching me even harder, desperate thing-" 

"Rafe!" 

"You're so greedy...You've come in almost every position I can put you in with your hands like this and you STILL want more?" 

"Yes!" 

"Then fucking take it-" He grunted, rooting up in to you before a deep French kiss would bring you to guide against his mouth. 

"THIS vanilla for you? Raw ass? Teary eyes? Sore pussy? Hmmm?" 

"More..." 

"So fucking greedy-" He spun you onto your back, reaching behind his neck to drive your hands above your head before he wrapped the tail around thr headboard and pulled it tightly. 

"Let them hear you. Let them hear what 'vanilla' sex with Rafe Cameron feels like." 

"Fuck!" You chorused, his hand to your clit making you desperate beneath your tremors as he scoffed. 

"Making me come like this..." 

"Yes! Please come!" 

"I'm gonna come because I've fucking earned it. Because this pussy is the best fucking shit I've ever had. But you EVER embarrass me like that again, and you'll only ever be used for me. You think you're sore now?" He scoffed. 

"Please. I'm sorry." 

"Show me how much. Prove to them just what you want...what I'm giving you..." He clenched his teeth. 

"I've already proven my point." He nodded as you clenched around him with purpose to do so before feeling him tense over you. Hours spent pounding into you, drawing sweat and pleas from your lips, and you were left beneath him just as he promised. 

"What do you say now since I was nice enough to teach you a lesson, baby?" 

"Thank you." He nodded. 

"Good girl." 

Taglist: Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @belcalis9503

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

NCT Spooky Season [Day 6]

Spectral Lover

TW: Ghosts, Mentions of a Murder (via Shotgun) Genre: Romance Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 0.8K Prompt: They had an unjust death, and now they haunt the house their reincarnated lover lives in

[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Yesterday] | [Tomorrow] | [Part 2] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: Spooky season is officially here! And since I skipped 20 days of NCT for Christmas last year, what the hell, why not do spooky season instead? Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

Things have been so... boring.

Taeyong laid down in the middle of the bedroom floor, the room was devoid of anything, really, just some old floorboards and peeling wallpaper, but nothing of note. His belongings from decades ago were long moved out and sold, leaving behind this empty shell of a room. His soul was bound to this house, cursed to never move on with the nature of his death, and blessed to never bother anyone because of it.

Until today, that is. He heard the front door open, what with its creaky hinges and its partially falling-off knocker. This new owner would be like the last one, probably. He'd move a few things around, get them spooked out, and watch them move away. He didn't want trouble, he just wanted peace. He could hear the movers bringing things in and placing them on the floors, he could hear people moving up and down the old stairs and through the hallways.

Boring. Taeyong would go scare them off later, but for now he'll stay here. Then he saw the bedroom door open.

"Alright, this is the main bedroom," the mover walks in first and the new owner after. And, as soon as he saw who it was, he sat up.

"Oh, it's a lovely room," you pushed back the peeling wallpaper as if smoothening it out would set it in place. "Definitely a fixer-upper, though," you looked around, and Taeyong felt his heart stop.

Look at you, living, breathing, and reincarnated. Due to the suddenness of his death and the unfairness of it all, his soul was held back here and tied to this location forever, and the worst part of it all was seeing how you grieved, how you lived in this house alone for such a long time that he prayed that someone would come along and give you the strength to heal and that they did.

And here you were again, decades later, young and bright-eyed just how he remembered you.

"We'll go ahead and bring in your bedroom items, (Y/N), let us know if you need anything else," the mover signals his employees to come in and they start setting up your bed and dressers.

"You know, (Y/N)," one of the employers chimed, "no one stays past a year in this house," he says.

"Is that so?"

"Place is haunted, you see?"

"Really now? That's exciting," you look around again.

"Yeah, poor bloke got shot point blank here," the mover points at the wall. "Murdered cold and by his own shotgun, crazy," the mover shakes his head.

"Oh, that poor man," you frowned. "And he haunts this place?"

"Allegedly," the other mover huffs after placing the nightstand down. He brushes his hands together. "I think that's the last of it, boss."

"Did you need any assistance with anything else, (Y/N)? The boss asks. You shake your head and pat one of the boxes.

"I think I've got it from here, thank you!" You walked the movers out and, after a few minutes, you returned to the room. "Alright... I'll just unpack the bedsheets for now, and a few things so I can shower," you spoke to yourself and pulled the necessary items out. Meanwhile, Taeyong watched your movements. You placed the boxes in a way that they were in the vicinity of where its contents would be stored or displayed and you moved around in a way that just seemed so free. And slowly he felt himself falling in love again. That bitterness he felt for what he thought was eternity was slowly melting away with each tune you sang.

Then, after all was said and done, you tucked yourself into bed, and Taeyong waited until you were truly asleep before he opened the first box.

~

When you woke up the next morning you were almost scared. All of your boxes had been folded up neatly in a corner of the room and all of your items unpacked and placed into their intended areas, you were more impressed than you were scared.

In fact, Taeyong was putting the last touches on the kitchen when he heard you running down, and he was quick to drop the kettle on the floor so as to stay hidden, but when you walked into the kitchen you seemed to be looking right at him.

"A ghost... huh?" You asked absently. "Well... I suppose I don't mind a roommate," you grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Ghost, and I look forward to getting to know you a little more."

And, slowly, Taeyong felt his chest grow lighter, as if you were now helping him lift that weight. Then, you rubbed your eyes and walked toward him.

"Strange... maybe I need to sleep more, I thought I saw a shadow," you wondered aloud. Then, you walked away and back upstairs.

Did you see him? That would be the first time ever that any of the owners even saw a glimpse but that should be impossible with this curse. He can interact with things around him but no one would be ever to see him and yet, somehow, you did, even if it was just a shadow, you saw him.

Maybe you were the key to helping him move on?

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[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

Susan Kay's 'Phantom' Read: Part VII (Raoul)

Well here we are. I've finally reached the conclusion of this hateful, hateful journey. I've now officially read Phantom, and I feel the worse for it.

But I suppose this ending is the best I could possibly have hoped for, since Kay was so fucking determined to kill Erik EVEN THOUGH she was in no way beholden to the canon.

I'm just going to re-cap because I honestly don't have the energy to feel much about this anymore. (Do beware, though things get really fucked up here and I'm very blunt about it, so enter at your own peril)

I'll say, I don't like the narrative framing in this section. I think it would have been far more effective if Kay hadn't put it UP TOP Raoul and Christine's son Charles is actually Erik and Christine's son Charles. In a perhaps divine twist of irony, Raoul named the kid, completely unaware that he'd accidentally named the boy after his paternal grandfather. Very cute Susan.

Anyway Raoul recalls the conclusion of Erik's and Christine's story as he returns to the Palais Garnier to attend the Opera with 'his' son. Of course they take Box 5.

We discover that true to canon Erik releases Raoul and Nadir from the torture chamber (though the passage of time here more closely resembles that of the Lon Chaney film than the book). Moved by Christine's kiss Erik sends them on their way etc etc we know the story.

Except that he first grills Raoul on whether he'll be able to provide for Christine, saying:

"Now don't be stiff-necked and proud, boy! You're only twenty, you've not entered your majority yet, and I would prefer to give you whatever you need rather than see my child marry a pauperized aristocrat!"

So let's re-cap:

Christine looks exactly like Erik mother

Erik desires Christine with a barely controllable lust

Erik also refers to Christine as his child

................................

This is a level of incestuous pretzel logic that I think even V.C. Andrews would look askance at.

Well Madeleine, I guess you were right all along huh?

Now of course in Leroux's final lair, Erik does take Christine's hand and place it in Raoul's. Symbolically he gives her away in an act of selflessness. The fatherly undertones are there.

But Kay decided to take the subtext and actually make it conscious in Erik's mind. What puts this beyond the pale is

1) HE WANTED TO FUCK CHRISTINE BECAUSE SHE LOOKED LIKE HIS MOMMY

2) what happens next

Because rather than giving Christine his ring and asking her to return with it to bury him after he's died, Erik asks Christine to return with an invitation to her wedding to Raoul for him to keep, apologising that he won't be at the service to give her away (every day we stray a little further from His glory...).

When Christine makes it clear that she intends to keep this promise, Raoul says that if she goes back to see Erik, there won't be a wedding.

Christine goes back. And Christine marries Erik, who is so close to death that he's bed-bound. (After ransacking his lair, of course.) But apparently not so near death that he can't get it up for Christine before he drops off the twig.

Nadir, by the way, put him in Christine's room, which is furnished with Madeleine's bed. So he's presumably still in that bed when he and Christine consummated their marriage (and that definitely happened). Again. IS THE BED CARVED LIKE A SWAN????

We're then treated to Raoul giving us all the boring details about how Christine was never really the same again, but they were still pretty happy all the same, how hard her pregnancy was, how the baby had to be delivered by C-section but both Christine and the kid survived, though Christine couldn't have any more kids and how Raoul raised a child that was obviously not his, but doesn't regret it and loves the boy. Charles grows up to be an absolutely spanking gorgeous musical prodigy and Christine dies of cancer when he's sixteen, finally to reunite with her true love in the afterlife while Charles carries the legacy of Erik's genius through Raoul's family name, never knowing who his true father was.

Now, in the immortal words of Waddsworth, from Clue:

We're going to stack the bodies in the cellar, leave quietly one at a time, and pretend that none of this has ever happened.

Masterpost

#phantom of the opera #poto #commentary on 'phantom' #susan kay phantom #phantom susan kay

[thepaintedlady00]

Chapter 10 Preview

Okay y'all, I've made a decision. I'm gonna give you all the beginning of chapter 10, BUT this will be the ONLY sneak peek/preview (I'll still release the title and maybe a quote or two). Chapter 10 is going to be a big boy, maybe the longest chapter to date and it's literally so full of important stuff and big reveals I'm not gonna risk spoiling too much because I'm SO excited and proud of how it's turning out and want you all to get to read it and be as excited and shit as I am!

So here you go! Enjoy! 😊💖

When Dream entered the library he felt lighter than he had in decades. He felt whole, as did his realm and everything was as it should be. Lucienne greeted him politely, pulling out the books she'd picked out and fixing her glasses on her face.

"What have you found?" He asked looking down at the slightly dusty pile.

"I'm not sure," she admitted with a sigh. "When you gave me the name of our lady I looked high and low attempting to locate anything about her here in The Dreaming. As you predicted, nothing."

He nodded. "She does not dream, so it is unlikely we'll find her here."

Lucienne glanced at the book in her hands and held it out to him. "Last night, shortly after the two of you… returned to the palace I found this on my desk."

The book was bound in multicolored threads, glistening in the light as it moved. Penelope Barlow carved into the front. His finger traced over the letters. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know, my lord." His librarian admitted. He moved to open it when she cleared her throat. "Sir, if I may…"

"What is it, Lucienne?"

"I read what was in the book, sir, to be certain it was our lady. What you find will no doubt distress you. And I only wish to remind you that The Dreaming is still weak and in need of you more than ever."

"Lucienne," he interrupted.

She sighed. "It appears… It seems one of your siblings was involved in our lady being severed from The Dreaming."

His chest burned and he moved to open the book again, but just as his fingers curled around the edge he felt a blinding pain pierce his head. Dreams vision swam, the pain so great he had to steady himself against the table. Lucienne gripped his arm, her startled voice incoherent in his ears. When it vanished along with the heartbeat he'd been feeling beside his own he dropped the book. "Penelope!"

Teleporting to his room the fear turned into all out panic at the sight of the bed in disarray and her bag of trinkets on the ground, the small objects scattered across the floor. He couldn't breathe. The room filled with shadows as his fear gave way to anger. Luciennes warning swirled in his mind. One of his siblings was behind this, and once he found out which one nothing short of his lady's return and their cries for mercy would satisfy him.

***

This was getting ridiculous. They stared down at me with their wide grin unfaltering. "As lovely as you look down there, Petal, I think you should get up."

"You," I said. "You were at the bar that night."

Their hand pressed to their chest as they looked away faking a bashful reaction. "Oh, how very flattering this is! The Lady of The Dreaming recognizes little old me."

"Who are you?" I chose to ask instead of attempting to retaliate against their obvious teasing.

"I am all that you Desire."

Desire. "You're one of Morpheus' siblings."

They shrugged. "But of course."

"Why are all of you so obsessed with dragging me places?" I demanded lifting myself up off the floor.

Desire looked confused, the first genuine emotion I'd seen from them. "I didnt bring you here, Petal."

"What?"

They rolled their eyes. "You don't catch on very quick, do you?"

I'd forgotten how easily they got bored and how rude they were. "What do you mean you didn't bring me here?"

"I did nothing." They said, "Here I was, walking the halls of my realm and then poof a little flower tumbles into my path. You brought yourself here. It's what you do after all."

"What I do?" "Yes, Weavers are notorious party crashers." They smiled. "Though none before did so as frequently or as elegantly as you."

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[tumbleweedtech]

Fringilla x Roche

Rated: E (Now on ao3!)

Fringilla sighed. She had done many things for the Lodge over the years. Seduction, spying, murder. While Ban Ard may look down on Aretuza's body modifications, even those crusty old men were fallible enough to fall for carefully trained whims of a sorceress.

But she didn't know why Sheala wanted more information about some filthy squirrels. And she really didn't know why this grubby, aging commander was apparently the way to get the most up to date and accurate information on their leadership. What made it worse was the man just wouldn't talk - none of her usual tricks worked, so she resorted to simple seduction.

It was boring, listening to him grunt and she covered a wince by moaning as he twisted her nipples inelegantly. The man fucked like he had been given a battle maneuver to follow.

He was a siege engine, rubbing his still mostly soft cock against her cunt. His balls slapped lazily against her ass, and he smelled of days old sweat. The face he was making was unpleasant, and apparently he'd never learned how to put his mouth to proper use.

How was she ever going to get him to talk? His grimace as he pawed at her was tiring, so she pushed him away, pressing his hands above his head until he gripped the heavy curtains that surrounded the bed. Fringilla fondled his cock, half hard and clearly having trouble getting into the groove of tonight's expectations. She straddled him, finding herself pleased to watch his hands flex as he stared at her breasts. "You know, I've fucked some of your friends, Commander." He didn't appear to like his rank in bed, having frowned and complained before. Call him Vernon, he insisted. She would not.

Phillipa was always better at faking affection. Fringilla found she had other priorities at the moment as she fiddled with the chain she'd made him keep on. It hung long and heavy now that it wasn't held in place by the small fasteners on his gambeson.

It was ugly, like him. She picked up the medallion with the lilies, as she ground her hips against his cock, just hard enough that it was a pleasing sensation that sparked pleasure through her core. Perhaps the man wasn't entirely useless? Fringilla raked her nails down his chest as she sought her own pleasure, arching her back and fully aware she made a beautiful sight. "Geralt spent months with me. We fucked on every surface of my chambers, and plenty other places." She watched his face, as he listened to her words, uncertain where she was going with this. "Do you know what I was surprised, and quite delighted to find he enjoyed?" His eyes finally stopped watching the rhythmic bounce of her breasts as she'd caught his curiosity. "He wanted me to fuck him. Right up the ass, with this beautifully carved phallus. He loved it if you pulled his hair and called him pretty. What about you, Commander? Would you like it if I bent you over that desk and fucked the stupid out of you?" There was no mistaking the way his eyes darkened at the idea. "It makes me wonder, if those witchers got up to the same thing we did in Aretuza. You pile a bunch of hormonal teenagers together in a dormitory, there's bound to be a little experimentation. What about you, Commander? When did you discover how nice it was to have a nice thick cock shoved up your arse?" He flushed, "They frown on fraternization within ranks." "Ah. So no blue stripe orgies, then. What a shame. Is that why Foltest's dog chases squirrel tail so keenly, then?" The commander flinched full bodied, then. A hit. Perfect.

"You do, don't you? Do you have a favourite? I personally detest rape, Commander. Are you that sort of man, who takes more than he should in spoils of war?" He moved fast, and gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. "Never."

"But you do have a favourite?" She petted his chest, flicking gently at his nipples, dragging her nails gently down his sides before he relaxed enough that she could shift her hips subtly. "Those elven women are beautiful. Small hands - have you ever had an entire fist up your ass? Incredible experience. Or do you prefer just a standard flesh and blood cock? I've heard those elves tend to run a bit small, I'm not sure how satisfying that would be." His face twisted, and was clearly done listening to her talk as he shoved a hand between them, his thumb pressed the wrong side of too hard, making her hiss and flinch back. Had this man ever fucked a cunt before? He was clumsy and rough, and - ah. "What's his name, Commander? This one you'd have fuck you. Do you dream of it, when you're sleeping in the forest?" She leaned close, and whispered in his ear, pitching her voice lower. "Do you wonder what he looks like under his armor? Or have you seen him? Have you spied on him, sneaky and silent, as he washed? Maybe he caught you. Maybe he held you down, and called you the filthy dog you are. Would he fuck you? Or would you fuck him?" His grip was near painful on her hips, but he was lost in the fantasy as he quickly grew to not a shameful size in hardness. She was pleased to have prepared before gracing him with her presence. So many men she'd been sent to seduce treated an asshole no different than a cunt, attempting to just shove the cock in. She'd planned on playing at pain if he seemed into it, but his dick was covered in her own dampness and leaking quite heavily... If she broke the fantasy now to fetch the oil she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold it again, so she pressed forward, curving her hips and reaching back to guide him. "Fuck me like you'd fuck him, Commander. I won't break. Maybe I'll leave your bed, covered in your cum and go find him and fuck him too. Does he even like dick?" She did her best not to hiss as the head of his cock pressed against her asshole, breaching slowly. It was more slick than she'd expected but she still privately lamented the lack of oil. Her knees were starting to get sore, however, so it was time to hurry things up. "Maybe he's laughed at you, so slow to get it hard. Even while you slavered over my tits you were soft. Does he call you names, or does he call you Commander? Maybe you're nothing but a son of a bitch-"

She couldn't stifle the gasp of pain as he yanked her down, shoving his hard cock fully inside. "Whore. He calls me the son of a whore." He punctuated every word with another bruising, driving thrust, and Fringilla knew she'd feel this coupling for days after, but the pain eased fast as he pummeled her. There was no angle for her own pleasure here, but she'd finally gotten him talking so she dragged her nails up into his hair and pulled. "So fuck him, you whoreson. Scream his name, then. Maybe he'll hear you and come running. Would he save you from me? Or would he join us? Have you ever done that, Vernon?"

His hips stuttered as she dropped her voice into a sultry whisper. Geralt had liked "secrets" too. Men were so predictable. "I've taken two cocks at once before. It's delectable. Would you rather him fuck my cunt as you were buried deep in my ass? You would feel his dick inside me," She pressed her fingers against his stomach, feeling his muscles flex. "like this. Not touching. But stroking, so close" He groaned, and she thumbed at his nipples, twisting and plucking them gently as she continued telling him secrets he desperately wanted to hear. "Or maybe, he would want to fuck my asshole too. He could get the lubricant off the desk. And he could slide right in next to you. It'd be like he was fucking you directly, his spend mixed with yours, his dick right against yours. Call him, Vernon. We could fuck him together, right now. Maybe he'd even let you fuck him after. Maybe he'd call your name in bed." She ground into him, raked her nails down her chest as hard as she could, and cried out in as deep a register as she could manage "VERNON" It was more than he could handle, and he threw his head back, shouting startlingly loud, "Iorveth!" as his hips stuttered and he spent deep inside her. They panted, and he hissed as she shifted off of him, his soft cock now overstimulated, but he made no move to fetch a cloth. She wanted to be surprised at how thoughtless a lover he was, but he simply rose, ambled to the chamber pot to piss, dropped the ugly chain on the bedside table and promptly fell asleep. Fringilla sighed. She'd intended to rest the night here, but that was clearly not happening. So she finished pissing and cleaning herself before she dressed and silently padded out. She had a squirrel to find, that was apparently named Iorveth. He likely had the information Sheala wanted, and if Fringilla was lucky, she wouldn't have to fuck it out of him.

#Fuck Haters Write More Fic #Fringilla x Roche #The Witcher 3 #Book Fringilla my beloved #Rating: E