#and many fucking columns are written by readers

[glompcat]

Reminder that most anti-intellectual posts are part of antisemitic bs.

Honestly and truly a large reason why I have a bug up my ass about the way people talk about newspapers online is if you look further in the notes of any given post bashing papers the unmasked antisemitism shows up pretty fast.

#here's a funny fact about the subscription price of both the new york times and the washington post #it works out to 20 cents a day #which as you know was considered a fair rate DECADES ago for a single physical paper #THAT is the greed you are so upset with #a subscription rate of $1 a week - and yes they let you share subscriptions #ffs #also again headlines are not indicative of contents they are essentially clickbait to entice people to read #and many fucking columns are written by readers #nyt modern love for example is NEVER by journalists it is sent in stories by readers #And every single indivdual post I am responding to in these tags? #had blatant naked antisemitism going on in the notes #the most recent one I saw - about a modern love article #had people tracking down the reader who submitted the story's instagram to ID if she was Jewish #only they were all using the k word to describe her in that 'hunt' as they described it #please fucking notice that you are spreading that sort of vile shit omfg #she doesn't even work for the times that column is ALWAYS by random readers and is being used as the example of why all journalists suck #and also antisemites are tracking down her social media to mock her #because she wrote up her break up and sent it in to a column specifically for sharing relationship stories? #fucking hell YOU DON'T LIKE SILLY RELATIONSHIP STORIES DON'T READ THE RELATIONSHIP STORY COLUMN #I don't fucking read the NYT myself anymore but I wouldn't fucking go to a fucking specific topic column written by readers #and point to it as proof that all journalists - as one of the people in the notes professed - should be shot

[joelsgreys]

strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

#tw daddy kink #tw: daddy kink #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[yuutx]

ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 . . (𝒪𝒦𝒦𝒪𝒯𝒮𝒰 𝒴𝒰𝒰𝒯𝒜)

okkotsu yūta x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ spitting in ur mouth ﾉ slight yandere ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ praise kink ﾉ hair pulling ﾉ slight choking ﾉ possessiveness ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི ᴗ͈ ˕ ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀིა

wanted 2 write 4 my sweetheart, yūta . . i cant believe i havent even written 4 him yet or even gushed about him, he is my babyboy ive missed him s' much . . shame on u miss athena, u forgot about yūta ! ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

Yuuta's eyes fluttered shut as he relished, savored the feeling of being inside you. He could never get enough of the pleasurable, heavenly sensation of your velvety walls wrapping tightly around him, your warm heat greedily swallowing his throbbing cock. No matter how many time's you had called him a pervert, teased him, Yuuta knew you were just as bad. Because after all, there was no way anyone could be so needy, so insatiable. Not without the sinful desires that plagued the both of you. You were both hopeless, desperate for each other. The more he thought about it, the more he realized the both of you were completely and utterly lost to each other, completely helpless in the throes of passion.

Foggy and delirious with pleasure, Yuuta could barely keep his eyes open. The only thing keeping him grounded was the feeling of his cock being buried to the hilt inside of you, the tip of his head bumping up against the very end of you. A shudder went down his spine, the sound of his balls smacking against your plump ass filling his ears. His head lolled to the side, his cheek resting against the side of your breast, his nose buried in the crook of your neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your skin, his tongue darting out, licking the salty sweat that had accumulated on your flesh. He let out a pleased hum, the hand resting on your hip reaching up, cupping the side of your face. His long, slender fingers traced the outline of your cheekbone, his thumb gently brushing across the top of your skin. He could feel the way his own skin stuck to yours, his chest pressed flush up against yours. With every thrust of his hips, he could feel the way your breasts bounced, the hardened buds rubbing against his own nipples. A shiver travelled down his spine, the tip of his tongue sliding over the side of your jaw.

"A-ah.. Fuck.." He gasped, his breath fanning across the side of your face. The hand resting on the side of your face reached around, gripping the back of your neck. His fingers tangled in the loose strands of your hair, tugging at the roots. Your eyes squeezed shut, a loud moan escaping your lips. He groaned as he felt the way you clenched around him, the languid, leisurely pace of his thrusts slowly picking up. "Ca-Can't get enough of y-you.. Never.. Enough.." He whispered, his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear. "F-feels so fucking g-good.. God, I-I can't.. can't think straight.." He continued, his words spilling out incoherently. He was intoxicated, drowning in the blissful sensations that only you could give him. "Y-you make me feel.. So fucking good.. So g-good.. Such a g-good girl.." He mumbled, his hot breath fanning over the side of your face, his words sending a wave of euphoria straight to your core. A shaky whimper escaped your lips, your back arching into him, the mounds of your chest pressing further into his own. Yuuta's grip on the back of your neck tightened, his hand sliding down to your throat. His thumb rubbed across the column of your neck, then traced the outline of your collarbones.

"You're a-all mine.." He whispered, his words coming out slurred, his thrusts speeding up, his cock throbbing inside you. "A-all mine.. Nobody else can.. Can fuck you like me.. I-I'll fucking kill any man who touches you.." He groaned, his forehead resting on your shoulder. His breath was hot and heavy against the side of your neck, his hips rocking into you. "Fuck, baby.. I-I don't know what I'd do without you.." He mumbled, his voice trailing off, his thoughts a jumbled mess of lust and love. "I-I just want you to be mine forever.. Forever.. Just want you to stay by my side.. Fuck, baby, 'm gonna lose it.." He stammered, his thrusts growing erratic, his cock twitching inside you. "P-please.. Please tell me.. Tell me you're mine.. Only mine.." He whined, his grip on the back of your neck tightening. You could feel the way your lungs struggled to fill with oxygen, the air in the room thin. His words were like honey, sweet and intoxicating, flowing through your veins. It was as if your bodies were one, melting together into a heated, burning pool of sex. Every thrust of his hips had you spiraling closer and closer to the edge, his cock hitting all the right spots. His words, his pleas, his desperate, pathetic moans, had you falling deeper and deeper into the pit of pleasure, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"O-only yours, Y-yuuta.. 'm all yours, sweetie.. I'm all yours.." You managed to choke out, your vision blurry. A soft whimper escaped your lips, a strangled moan escaping his own. He let out a shaky sigh of relief, his doughy lips pressing against yours, his tongue darting out, sliding across the seam of your mouth, forcing its way inside. He moaned as his tongue explored the warm cavern of your mouth, his hips snapping forward, the tip of his head slamming into the entrance of your cervix. He pulled away from the heated kiss for a moment, his hand moving to the bottom of your chin, his fingers gripping the underside of your jaw, keeping your mouth open. You watched him through glazed eyes, his tongue sticking out, a trail of saliva oozing out, drooling into the open space of your mouth. You felt the warmth of his spit hit the back of your throat, a small amount dribbling down the corner of your lips, a whimper eliciting from you as you swallowed the substance. "Mine.." He mumbled, his eyes glued to the side of your face. "F-fuck.."

His thrusts grew sloppier, his movements stuttering, his impending release growing nearer and nearer, his high begging to overcome him. "Fuck.. I-I'm gonna cum.. I'm gonna.. F-fuck.. Y-you want it? You want my cum, baby?" Muffled moans spilled from your mouth, your body moving on its own accord, your hips grinding against his own, desperately seeking the release that was so close for you too. "Y-yes! Pleasepleaseplease.. Yuuta.. Please, please fill me up.." You begged, your silky cunt clenching around his pulsating cock. "G-gonna cum, baby.." He breathed out, his forehead resting on the crook of your neck. "Gonna give my baby what she wants.." His fingers trembled, the muscles in his arms tensing as he held you in place, the hand wrapped around your throat slowly making its way upwards. He placed two fingers on the top of your head, pushing your head back into the mattress. He moved his hips forward, his length reaching the very end of you, his cock twitching as it spurted thick, creamy ropes of his seed inside you. Your eyes rolled back, a pornographic moan escaping your lips, your mouth agape. Your legs shook as you felt his warm, milky liquid fill you to the brim, his hips lazily moving back and forth, milking himself dry, syncing his movements with the way your pussy spasmed around him, your orgasm overtaking you.

"F-fuck.. Yuuta.." You cried, his lips pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. He let out a soft groan, the feeling of his seed overflowing inside you, seeping out from where the both of you were connected. Your thighs twitched as you felt the mixture of your fluids leaking from your hole, his cum spilling out, oozing down the backs of your legs, soaking the sheets below. "That's a good girl.." He murmured, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. "So full.." He whispered, his cock pulsating inside you. "Full of my essence.. Now no one can have you.. No one can take you from me.. Not when you're dripping with my seed.." His hand slid down the front of your body, his palm pressing against the soft flesh of your lower abdomen, a small, satisfied hum escaping his lips as he felt the way his semen was trapped deep inside you. "Now you have no choice.. No choice but to stay by my side.."

#୧ ‧₊˚ ☆ athena's creations ! #yuuta okkotsu #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #okkotsu yuuta x you #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta smut #yuuta x you #yuuta smut #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk drabbles #yuuta drabble

[greenishghostey]

It's Fantasy, babe

Pairing: Eddie Muson x fem!reader

Summary: You decide to indulge in a fun fantasy with your boyfriend: Eddie, sneaking into your room and cumming inside you.

Warnings: This fic contains graphic 18+ content. Please do not engage with you are underage! Unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough but with lots of love, established relationship, fingering, fluffy smut, Eddie cannot shut up ever, enthusiastic consent, Eddie just trying rock your world as best he can

A/N: This is the first smut I've ever written and I promise I tried my best. The idea had been rolling around in my head for a while so I bit the bullet and just tried it. DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

///

The discussion between you and Eddie had been a long time coming. You’d found a particularly filthy romance novel about a princess and her noble knight. They’d shared a night together rolling around in her royal quarters, and he came in her until she was dripping, full and shaking. He had snuck into her rooms after the castle fell asleep, embraced her in her soft, flowing nightgown and showed her heaven and hell simultaneously.

You wanted that too. You wanted to be the princess. You wanted Eddie to push your legs back, knees to your ears and fuck his cum into your cunt as many times as he wanted to - possibly even making love to you at the same time. You weren’t going to be too picky. You wanted your soft pastel blue bedsheets to be stained and sticky under your ass as he. Just. Kept. Going.

Eddie had jumped at your request for him to sneak in on Friday night after your parents fell asleep. They’d had busy weeks at work. They wouldn’t be stirring until at least 10 am the next morning.

And that was how you found yourself under the gorgeous weight of Eddie’s naked form. He was smiling down with immeasurable happiness. He was so warm and solid and beautiful. Dreamy was the word that came to your mind. So dreamy, so pretty, and all yours.

His thick, calloused fingers were deep in your soaked cunt, massaging and stretching your puffy walls. Eddie always did this thing with his middle and ring finger, crooking them up to push you to the edge of orgasm and keep you there for a while. You said he only did it to show off his guitarist fingering skills; he said he did it because he just loved you that much.

“Gotta get you ready for me, princess. You wanted a long night, and you’re gonna get it.” He teased before licking a long, fat stripe up the column of your neck. “God, babe, I’m gonna slip right in. She missed meeee.” Eddie chuckled as you gripped his fingers and wiggled your hips. He had to appreciate that his being a little goofy during sex still got you squirming. 

“Eddie,” you whined, groping your tits and gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes, “Hurry. Up.” You moved to knot your fingers in his shaggy hair, now grinding desperately on his fingers - one of his rings bumping against your clit and fuck. You came with a muffled moan, Eddie having quickly silenced you in a deep kiss. He made sure that his tongue tasted every pretty noise you were making for him.

Eddie’s chest heaved as he pulled away. Like it was agony.

He ran the head of his swollen cock up and down your hole, pressing the tip in ever so slightly to have you claw at his forearms. You were going to draw blood from the bats, but, shit, it felt phenomenal. Nothing got his blood running hotter than seeing his lady all desperate. Craving, yearning, maybe even a little feral, much like himself.

“My girl wants it so bad, huh? My dick, my cum, me. Fuuuck, I love you.” He groaned, continuing to push his angry tip in and out of your cunt. He liked the tease of sex with you. The raw feeling of pushing both of you to the point of nearly mauling each other.

“Ed - Eddie, come on, please. I need you. I’ll ask so nicely if you want. Just-“ your pleas and begging were cut short by the glorious stretch of Eddie’s cock as he seated himself fully inside. It usually took some time for him to get in fully, but he was right; he slid right into the hot, sticky bliss. Your head slammed back into your fluffy pillows, and you had to bite your hand to contain the urge to scream. After two years of being together, he was still just so big. Fucking perfect, but still big. It would be best if you guys had done this at his place. Sure, the entire trailer park would find out that the Munson boy was getting his dick wet, but you would be able to be loud. However, the fantasy required your soft double bed and floral bedspread - your “chambers” that he would sneak into. 

The pace that was set immediately was brutal, like animals, like in the book. Yes, God, yes. It was all skin slapping skin and the obscene squelch of fucking without any barriers. Eddie leant down to press his forehead to yours so he could pant, whine and grunt into your mouth. He was so considerate when he was at your place and knew you guys had be quiet - well, quieter.

“You’re so so tight, baby. Is this what you wanted?” he whispered, hot breath fanning across your burning cheeks, “raw and fucking filthy in your nice, cosy bedroom, yeah?” He laughed breathily and moulded his full lips to yours. The slam of his hips never faltered as he grabbed and rubbed your waist - still maintaining a level of tenderness while splitting you open on his cock. He was chasing his orgasm with more desperation than usual. You made it clear that you would need to be leaking and creamy to fulfil this fun little fantasy, and who was he to deny the princess her requests? You’d been so damn polite when asking him for this too. 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh, Eds,” you murmured, pulling away from the searing kiss by literal millimetres. Legs wrapping around him and feet digging into his ass, he wasn’t going as deep as he could, and that needed to be changed. You could feel yourself gushing with every hard thrust, dangling on the precipice of cumming.

“Would never laugh at you. I’m having the time of my goddamn life here.” He sighed, a wide beaming smile spreading across his sweat-covered face. He was glowing under the light of your bedside lamp. Wow. Eddie’s big hands moved from your waist to the backs of your thighs. Yes, yes, yes, he hiked your legs up and back until you were folded in half. If you wanted deeper, then he was going to go as deep as physically possible. Eddie needed you to feel him in your fucking stomach.

Never in your life had you been so thankful for getting rid of your old spring mattress. Because the force behind Eddie’s thrusting was insane. He prided himself on having impressive stamina that only seemed to come out when he was inside you - quite frankly, Eddie never wanted to leave your cunt. That was especially the case now, with your toes accidentally tangling in his hair. “Oops, sorry,” you muttered, breaking away from your sex-induced haze to angle your feet differently. It would have been awkward, but this was with Eddie. Awkward was never even part of the conversation.

“You could kick me in the head right now, and I’d say thanks, don’t worry.” Eddie giggled, running a thumb over your sweaty cheek. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable for what he had planned - it might be a little risky, but it would be worth it. You reached up to fix the hair you’d messed up with your feet and giggled, but Eddie’s face showed that he was deep in thought about something. Before you could ask if anything was wrong, he spoke, “What’s on the other side of that wall?” He nodded his head towards the wall behind your metal-barred headboard.

“Linen closet, why?” you asked, the gears in your head turning quickly and figuring out his plan. He was calculating risk; you were so proud of him.

“And how far away is your parents' room?” 

“Other end of the hall.” Your breathing had moved onto panting now. The headboard had already started to knock against the wall a little, but Eddie was about to make it a whole lot worse. 

“Perfect. Hold these pretty legs back for me, please?” He was grinning like a horny maniac. You did as he asked almost a bit too quickly, holding your legs back and as wide as you could get them in your current position. “Atta girl. First load’s gotta be an extra special experience, right?” One of Eddie’s hands got a strong grip on your headboard while the other moved to flick and massage your clit in tight little circles. You whined at the contact, knowing that your fantasy was about to reach the first of several climaxes.

Eddie started up his almost punishing pace again. But this time, he had more leverage to force his cock into you and mould your walls to the shape of him. The squelch of fucking was somehow even louder than before. Now mixed with the sloppy sound of Eddie playing with your clit and grunting like an animal in heat. You weren’t much better with your whining and mewling. Reaching up to hold his ecstasy-coloured face as best you could.

“Aw, she’s all sensitive and weepy for me, isn’t she, babe?” Eddie groaned straight into your ear. Your legs had started to shake from just how deep you could feel his cock as it pounded into your g-spot. The reply he got from you was a sniffled nod and your big wet eyes staring up into his. “You wanna beg for it? I think you wanna beg for me to fill you up.” Fuck, he was so right. You hated when he was right.

“I-I need you to cum, Eds. I wanna feel it so fucking bad,” you hiccuped; it felt like you were on the verge of crying from how deliciously overwhelmed you were. “I’ve been good.” Eddie’s gaze snapped down to meet yours, and the look on his face was beautiful. His big eyes widened, and his jaw was slack as he whined at your comment. You had been such a good girl for him. You always were.

That did it. Eddie slammed into you with a few more, and his rhythm was pretty much gone by that point. When he came, he silenced his guttural wail by biting down on your shoulder hard. Normally, you would have scolded him for leaving a mark, but right now? It made the whole experience so much better as you came with him. 

The two of you stayed together, panting, for a while after that. Eddie didn’t want to pull out of you until he absolutely had to, and you relished in feeling his sweaty weight press you into the mattress. The intimacy for the moment was your favourite. For all that Eddie tried to make the world believe that he was mean and scary, he was far from it. He was practically purring as you ran your fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp - a big dorky smile on his face and everything. 

Eddie untangled himself from your body and sat up, scraping his hair out of his hair and fanning himself. The demon head on his chest was staring at you like it was proud. Bastard. Before you could form words to ask if Eddie needed water or anything, he flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your ass up, back arching all pretty how he liked it. He stared at his cum oozing from your cunt in fascination. Yeah, you guys were going to be doing this again.

“Good for round two, sweetheart?” Eddie chirped, giving your ass a sharp smack. You whimpered and nodded - words wouldn’t be possible for the rest of the night; you could feel it in the throb of your clit. 

#my writing #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #fic #fluff #smut #i hope this doesn't suck TOO much

[neverinadream]

Painting Every Inch Of You As Mine

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Summary: With you, Christian gets to do all the things he's only dreamed about.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: I Wanna Be Your Slave - Måneskin

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, nsfw, all smut and no plot, pre-established relationship, dom!christian, sub!reader, the reader has a nipple piercing, pet names (baby, princess, good girl...), praise kink, degradation kink, reader is called a cocktease, mentions of oral sex, begging, overstimulation, breast play, masturbation, titty fuck, oral (male receiving), fingering, cum play, not edited....i think that's it

Notes: this is your final warning, this all porn and no plot. also, this features something that i have surprisingly never written before so if it sounds clumsy that's why. the first few paragraphs came from an idea me and @thoseboysinblue discussed many many months ago and this has blossomed into something entirely different. but if you want to read that original idea it can be found here 😉 anyway, here's some smut, you filthy whores. feedback is always appreciated

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"Shit-!” Christian curses under his breath, pressing his free hand against the shower tiles to keep himself steady. His grunts are mixed in with the sound of the shower, the warm water running down the back of his neck warming him up each time he shivered from squeezing his hand tighter or flicking his thumb over the slit. “Just like that,” he pants, his forearm flexing as he strokes from root to tip, his rhythm switching between fast and needy and soft and slow. His hand jerked a little faster, his bottom lip detaching from his top lip as your name sat heavily on his tongue. "Yes, Y/N," he groans, his cock pulsing at the sound of your name, "just like that-make me come."

Curse your boss for calling you in for an early morning meeting, he thinks to himself, wishing you were here to stroke him to release, and not discussing your next project.

In his head, he pictured you pressed against the shower door, the cold glass soothing your nipples, that were sore from being pinched and nipped at by him. The column of your neck had been marked with fresh hickies he knew you would have a hard time trying to hide from your friends/colleagues. His hand would've gotten tangled in your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to look up at him as he took you from behind, his free hand grabbing a handful of your ass as his hips slammed against it.

"You know they put locks on these doors for a reason, right?"

His whole body goes tense as your voice carries over the sound of the shower, his head snapping over his shoulder to see your head peeking around the bathroom door. You move your eyes from the brunette curls sticking flat to his forehead down to the tight muscles in his back and his round ass.

He watches the grin form on your lips. "Nice bum, by the way."

"Well, it's a good thing only my girlfriend has the only other keys to my apartment," Christian replies, his strokes switching to a lazy rhythm. The palm of his hands rolls over the crown and he shudders a groan, a new wave of pleasure flooding his body as you drop your eyes to watch. He knew he could get off on watching you play with yourself, but never thought about what it would do to him if the roles were reversed. "I thought you had a meeting?" He changes the subject, snapping your eyes back up to his flushed face.

"It lasted all of five minutes," you mumble your reply, your focus gravitating once more to the hand pumping up and down.

He smirks at you, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. "My eyes are up here, baby."

You bite your lip. "But your cock is prettier."

He straightens his back and turns to face the glass door. His hand doesn't leave his body and stays moving at the same pace. You see his mouth move but you don't register the words that leave, your focus shifting to the way his muscles and veins ripple in his forearm on each stroke.

"Y/N?"

His voice rips your eyes away, the heat in your chest travelling up your neck to your face as you see the furnace burning inside his eyes.

"Why do you still have your clothes on."

Innocence washes over your features. "Because I was waiting for you to tell me to take them off."

A groan cuts his chuckle short, his hand wrapping around the tip and squeezing it the same way you would before taking him into your mouth. His eyes close for a moment, cock twitching in his palm as he allows himself to think about the warmth of your mouth. The reaction you would tease out of him each time you took him into the back of your throat, your nose brushing up against the smattering of hair that led up to his toned stomach.

"Take them off," he demands, eyes opening to meet yours, their colour darkened by lust, "all of them. I don't want there to be a single scrap of clothing left on your body."

One by one, your clothes drop to the bathroom floor, Christian's eyes scorching your skin as more of your body is exposed to him. His eyes snag on your hard nipples, his eyes nearly rolling out of his skull as you drift your fingers delicately over the pebbled nubs. He licks his lips, imagining their taste in his mouth, and remembering the feeling of metal on his tongue whenever he flicked his tongue over the heart-shaped piercing.

Heat surges through your body as his eyes flare at the spot between your legs, to where your fingers had slowly drifted. His hand stops, squeezing tight around the base, and you smile, knowing that tension in his jaw was him trying to stave off from coming at the sight of you brushing a finger through your wet folds.

You whimper, more wetness flooding onto your finger as you continue to stroke it over your pussy. "What's next?" You ask, waiting for his next instruction.

He nods to the bathroom counters. "Go sit down."

You take a couple of steps and lift yourself onto the counter. A quiet gasp shudders from your lips, the white marble was cold against your bare skin, and your fingers curl around the edge as you anticipated his next move.

"Look at me, princess."

Your gaze snaps to those delicious pools of honey, captivated by the heat that simmered inside. There was no mistaking whose you were when he looked at you like that.

"Spread your legs," he mumbles his next order, reaching blindly behind him to turn the shower off. His cock stands to attention against his stomach, the thick girth and round, smooth head making you squeeze your thighs together, as he steps out. "Show me," he adds, hands splayed across your thighs, pushing them open, "I want to see it all."

His eyes dip to your pussy, licking his lips at its wetness, making you squirm under his hard gaze. His right hand gravitates towards the apex of your thigh, his thumb teasingly reaching out to brush around the outside of your pussy. A whimper spills from your lips, thankful that he was finally touching you, but annoyed that he was nowhere near where you needed him most.

"Christian-"

"She's such a cocktease," he talks over you, lightly dusting his fingers over your folds, reveling in the wetness that pooled on their tips, "even like this she's begging for me. Just like the rest of you. It's all just begging to be fucked."

Your chest deflates as he removes his hand, but your eyes watch hungrily as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, groaning as he licks them clean.

"And these," he groans, his gaze snags once more on your tits, the shade of your nipples tattoed permanently in his head, "do you know how beautiful these things are?" Large hands roam your chest, watching the way your tits would squish together and bounce back into place, moulding perfectly to how he desired them. "Fucking incredible," he mumbles, pulling his left hand away and dipping his head to flick his tongue across your nipple.

You groan, arching your back, feeling his tongue trace over the shape of the metal bar pierced through it.

"Think you should get this one done," he tweaks your right nipple, rolling it between his thumb and finger, his cock twitching as you whimper for him to do it again, "have the matching set."

You smile. "Yeah?"

He nods, the left corner of his mouth lifting to show a small smile. "Yeah." He flicks his tongue over your nipple and pinches the other. "My treat."

"Some boyfriends get their girlfriends flowers, but not mine," you giggle, dusting light kisses along his stubble, "mine gets me nipple piercings."

"It's not the only thing we could get pierced," he replies, sliding his hand along her thigh. His gaze drops to between your legs. "She's pretty now, but just think how pretty she could be." He smooths his thumb over your clit, your body jolting at his touch. "Let me make her prettier, baby."

"I think she always looks her prettiest when she's covered in your cum."

You listen to him groan, reaching for his cock and slowly stroking your hand over the head. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, unable to find his words as you keep touching him. Shuffling to the edge, you reach below and cup his balls, massaging them in your hand. Your mouth attacks his neck, licking away the drops of water that still clung to his warm skin. Your free hand wraps around his shaft, lazily pumping him, working in conjunction with the other.

"I think all of me looks prettier when I'm covered in your cum," you correct yourself, breaking away from his neck, and purring in his ear.

"O-On your knees." He lowers you to your feet, the slight bit of desperation in his voice making you giggle. You obliged, running your hands over his thighs, and licking your lips as you stare up at him. Just seeing him like this, standing tall and proud, had you drooling. "You can have that later," he chuckles, brushing his thumb lovingly over her cheek, "first, I want to fuck these perfect tits."

You eagerly nod, excitement flooding your veins at the anticipation of trying something new; it felt like butterflies were swarming your belly.

He holds out his hand. "Spit." You obliged, watching him work it over the head. "Now, tip your head back," he taps his finger against your chin, "wouldn't want to accidentally spit on your face." He quirks his eyebrow, running his thumb over your bottom lip, his head tilted to the side like his internal thoughts were disagreeing with the words he had just spoken.

"Are you gonna spit on my tits, or do I have to grab the lube?" You ask, cocking your head to the side, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smirk.

His eyes flare. "Ask me again."

You sit a little higher on your knees, your chest angled for his viewing. "Please, Christian," you soften your voice, absently licking your lips, "please, would you spit on my tits?"

More excitement licks through your veins feeling his cock on your chest, your breasts pressed around it, the smooth surface of his thick head teasing the drool to form in the corners of your mouth. Through your lashes, you look up and smile. His face is fixed with concentration, his tongue darting across his bottom lip, before trapping it between his teeth, snuffing out the groan begging to escape.

You let a fresh trail of spit drop onto his head and squeezed your tits tighter around him. "Like that?" You flick your gaze back up at him, a new wave of arousal making your thighs slick as you press them together, liking how he tipped his head back and clenched his eyes shut.

A loud moan erupts from his lips, shooting straight from the back of his throat as he bucks his hips into you. "Fuck," he curses, fingers splayed out on top of your head, their tips curling each time his cock would twitch. "Can't believe you've never let me done this before today."

You bite your lip. "Thought about fucking them, have you?"

"Ever since I saw you wearing that tiny daisy-patterned bikini," he confesses, with another loud moan.

"Whatever happened to that bikini?"

He chuckles dryly. "I think I tore one of the straps trying to get it off you." His head tips back and his eyes clench shut, his thrusts slowing down to stop himself from busting too early. "Yeah," he laughs again, "I remember you having to go back outside with one of my shirts on."

You hum, heat trickling up your neck, leaving your face feeling flushed. "Wes still hasn't forgiven you for 'violating' his 'innocent' best friend."

"He'll live," he mumbles, increasing his speed, unable to stave off the inevitable for much longer. He lets out another guttural moan, his fingers pressing hard into your hair, pushing your head down. "Fuck-! Yes, keep doing that!" He grunts, eyes rolling back as he feels your tongue sliding against his head. You grin at the praise, and press your tits as tight as you can, jerking them up and down to match his thrusts. "That's-! Yes-! Good girl," he speaks in broken sentences, "fuck me back-!"

"That's it, baby!" You encourage, peering up at him through your lashes, watching him succumb to pleasure. Your voice draws his attention downwards, another moan leaving his lips as you both maintain eye contact. The once pools of amber darken to swirls of bitter chocolate as he sits on the edge of climax. "Do it, Christian!" You nod, ignoring the burn in your arms as you take over, his thrusts becoming lazy and then stopping altogether. "I got you," you whisper softly, "just let go and come for me."

His cock throbs against your chest, the first few shots of cum landing on your chest with a loud moan of your name. A stray shot of cum lands on your chin, just missing your mouth, and Christian groans at the sight. You keep going, milking every last drop from his cock, until he's stroking the top of your head and pulling himself away.

"How do I look?" You angle your chest, giving him a better view of the mess he had left.

"Beautiful," he replies, giving you his hand and helping you to your feet, "like you're all mine." He swipes his thumb across your chin and wipes it over your mouth, covering it with the stray shot of his cum that had landed there. "Gotta make sure every inch of you is mine," he mumbles, leaning back and looking at you, a mischievous glint swirling in his eyes.

"You're a freak, Christian," you tease, darting your tongue out to taste what he had left there.

"That's all your doing, baby," he feigns his defense, spreading his fingers through the cum on your chest, as his other arm loops around your waist. You shiver in his hold, your bottom lips catching between your teeth, liking the way it feels as he paints your nipples with his cum. "I was a simple man before I met you," he continues, swapping to do the same to your other nipple, "now I get to do things I've only dreamt about."

You quirk your eyebrows. "Like what?"

"Come on," he quickly kisses you, licking his lips as he pulls away, tasting what was left of himself on your mouth, "let's take this elsewhere."

In his bedroom, you giggle as his hand lands against your ass, softly slapping the right cheek as you climb onto his bed.

"I need you," you whimper, reaching for his cock, pumping it in your hand. You grin as his softened form starts to harden against your palm. "Looks like you've still got a little bit left in you," you wink, licking your lips.

"Easy," Christian hisses as you take him into your mouth, feeling him harden on your tongue. You pull off, slurping on the tip, leaving behind spit that you work messily up and down his shaft. "It's sensitive, baby," he chuckles, cupping your chin and bending to kiss you. His tongue licks away the drool from your bottom lip before getting lost inside your mouth, tangling together with yours, the two of you moaning desperately into each other's mouth.

"I love it when you get this messy for me," he murmurs, stroking his hand over the back of your head. He winces as you wrap your lips once more around him, his cock twitching on your tongue as the warmth of your mouth hugs him. "Slower, baby," he whimpers, giving a soft tug to your hair.

You look up at him through your lashes and oblige, sucking on the tip at a slower, almost lazy, pace.

"And I love it when you bend over like this," he continues, your moans vibrating around his shaft as he leans forward, grasping a handful of your ass sticking up in the air, "means I can play with your cunt as you choke on my cock." He hooks his free hand under your chin, pulling you off him and forcing your attention his way. "Want me to touch you, baby?"

You nod, licking your messy lips. "Yes, please," you beg, shaking your ass from side to side, enticing him to touch.

He chuckles, dancing his first finger over your pussy. "Good girl for remembering your manners," he praises, sliding his fingers through your folds, getting it wet before bringing it back to your entrance, "now be good and show me how pretty this pussy looks taking my fingers."

He watches in the bedroom mirror as you take his first finger, your pussy stretching to take more as a second joins. He couldn't take his eyes away from your reflection. He would groan, watching you bob your head in his lap, swallowing him into the back of your throat, matching his pace as he sank his fingers into you. And his cock would throb each time he withdrew his fingers to see it, your weeping hole, dripping for his attention.

"Like that, baby?" You answer with a moan, the vibrations jerking his hips forward, notching his tip against the back of her throat. He groans as she gags, more spit drooling down his shaft and dripping off her chin. "Feels good, yeah?"

"Tastes good too," you giggle, sticking your tongue out and tapping him against it.

A soft blush changes the colour of his cheeks. "You like how I taste, huh?" You nod, swirling your tongue around the tip, making sure to flick it along the slit. "Bet you taste better than me," he mumbles, removing his fingers, pressing them to your mouth, with an order to clean. "See?" He hums, pulling back his fingers and guiding you onto your stomach.

A deep breath travels up the length of his throat, turning into a sigh as he kneels on either side of your thighs. His hands are all over you, sliding up your thighs, touching your sides and squeezing your hips. He grabs the globes of your ass, pulling them apart to find a place to settle his cock, groaning as they press around him, mimicking that same feeling of your tits pressed around his cock. Feeling the thickness of his length pushing up against your bare ass, you look up and watch in the mirror, your gaze fixed on Christian tipping his head back, his Adam's apple violently bobbing as he continues to groan.

"If you want to fuck my ass, all you have to do is ask," you tease, watching him crawl over you, his hands pressing into the sheets on either side of your shoulders.

He kisses your shoulder, sucking on the base of your neck. "Not today," he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into her hair, "still too sensitive for that." He switches to the other shoulder and repeats himself, giving you matching hickies. "God, you really did a number on me in that bathroom, baby," he groans, shifting his weight onto one hand and slapping your ass with the other.

"So, punish me."

You feel his grin press into the back of your ear, his tongue darting out to teasingly lick your lobe. "You want me to punish you?" He asks, balancing his weight across both hands. Heavy breaths tickle the back of your neck, and you shudder as he dips to press a kiss in the centre of your shoulder. "Tell me how I should punish my naughty girl then."

"Don't let me cum."

He grins, catching your eyes in the mirror, his lips grazing the top of your head. "Be careful what you wish for, princess."

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Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

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#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

[arceespinkgun]

Slowly getting deeper into my reread of MTMTE and man, issue #34 feels like the worst. Not the most incomprehensible or with the most poorly-written dialogue or whatever, but from a thematic standpoint I feel like what it was trying to convey is the most disgusting out of the issues so far. I do remember people being pissed about the character death in this issue, but I feel like it's a lot worse than that, and that it's so bad it ought to be dissected. Rant below the cut:

Okay, so there is some of the usual dumb bullshit and writing oversights that I keep seeing, like how did nobody notice Vos was missing his face until they found it on the floor? Why did First Aid just let Trailcutter start to donate all that energon when he's just said it was a huge risk and that it was a bad idea? Sure, it's Trailcutter's choice, but he didn't even say anything? Was there really a possibility that Rung would sign-off on what's essentially a lobotomy? That seems OOC based on how he's been characterized so far. That message in the flashback over the intercom—does JRo think people say the quiet part out loud to that blatant a degree? And how contrived was it that nobody noticed the electric chair in that pile of stuff and that Kaon just happened to be there to kill Trailcutter?

But all of those are minor issues that pale in comparison to the overall themes here. Trailcutter is demonstrating a belief in the sanctity of life by putting himself at risk to save Vos. This is something I feel like is sorely lacking among the Autobot faction in this continuity and JRo's work especially—a break from horrific war crimes and shit is a relief. Then Trailcutter gets immediately punished for it in a horrifically gruesome way, getting his "brain" and "spinal column" ripped out. Already, I don't like what that's implying from a narrative standpoint.

Then in flashbacks, we see a young Megatron talking to Terminus and then nearly being lobotomized, escaping due to a technicality. I hate this. First of all, JRo tries to sell us on Megatron being sympathetic by suggesting that he was 100% pacifistic and it was Terminus who told him there's only room for one guy at the top and to use his fists and all that. This is stupid for many reasons, not the least of which that this is totally pulled out of JRo's ass and doesn't fit with any previous portrayal of the character, but also, it's a cheap trick and stupid because violent revolution against an oppressive system is not something inherently unsympathetic.

More importantly, though, I hate that these flashbacks are here at all. What JRo is clearly doing is trying to deflect a potential reader response of, "Holy shit, the people who are essentially the Decepticon police force that Megatron personally trained just killed a nice, innocent guy! He needs to answer for this!" by showing us how much trauma Megatron went through in his past. Even aside from the fact that I don't personally care what trauma a guy who committed genocide and ran prison camps etc. experienced in his past, it's not relevant to the horrible thing that happened to Trailcutter in the present!

Even worse, JRo pulled this only like... a few issues after Megatron messed with Trailcutter's mind without his consent and it was portrayed as a joke! It was portrayed as both a joke and a favor because Trailcutter was an alcoholic! Trailcutter even pointed out that he had "rights" in that moment and Megatron explicitly ignored him... as did a huge number of witnesses! So with that context, choosing the issue in which Trailcutter is brutally murdered by the DJD to show Megatron's mind being altered as a traumatic, serious, life-altering event is so fucking gross.

Inconsistent characterization (of which Megatron in this series seems especially affected by, as do Cyclonus and Rodimus so far) also doesn't help, since again, just a couple of issues ago Megatron both said he "trained" the DJD to be "thorough" and that they are "the greatest monsters" of all. It's like JRo can't decide how accountable Megatron is for anything, or just picks an interpretation scene-by-scene based on whatever he wants him to say.

I feel like it's especially bad from an extrinsic perspective, since Megatron is one of the franchise's most prominent characters. In no way was he lacking in any sort of exposure. But you know who is underappreciated? Trailbreaker, a funny, sweet guy with a really cool ability, whose original bio seems to position him as a self-conscious disabled person. He was on the Ark and yet gets almost no attention. And not only did this series really do his design dirty (they took away his dark face and cute stripes!) but it also did this to him?!

Because I read this series back when it came out, I remember that Megatron eventually uses Trailcutter's forcefield ability against the DJD in a later issue. In another context, that might be nice poetic justice. But instead, I feel like it comes across as disrespectful to the guy's memory and like literally stealing from him and using him because of everything I've pointed out. Worse, it became yet another way to make Megatron look "cooler" because I remember that other characters pointed out that you can't just use someone else's power like that, and Ravage is like, well it's because Megatron's just so special, if anybody could figure out a way it would be him. Terrible.

#JRo's work has such horrid messaging and I feel like on Tumblr especially it's often looked at uncritically #Or like... critically but just barely like about only minor things #but it shouldn't just be left unaddressed when it was this egregious a lot of the time! #transformers idw #Trailcutter #Trailbreaker #Megatron #my analysis #negative

[iepurasdepraf]

I'm posting something, I know....shocking. The first part of likely many. No warnings as of yet. Gender Neutral Reader and Jonathan Crane. No specific one, just my version of him. Well, one of my versions of him. I hope you enjoy.

How did you get talked into this? How did you get here? Playing with the slowly warming steel of an industrial chain from the privacy gate you had to unlock on your way up the drive. Between the jangle of the chain between your fingers and the fight to keep your supper down from the greasy spoon diner you had taken a pit stop at you were in a strange state of near prayer, the links serving as the beads of your impromptu rosary. The only other sound besides the none too gentle roar of the old pickup you were sat in was the constant gnawing of your driver on a splintered toothpick. The mint taste was probably completely leached out by now. You had to wonder how he wasn’t getting splinters in his tongue and gums, but it seemed to help with his anxiety so who were you to wonder too much about it?

The remaining headlight of the Ford cut through the pitch black that had been suddenly dropped on you both like two kittens trapped under a moving box. The smog and light pollution from Gotham choking out the night sky. No stars. No moon. Even the few miles you were outside of her. Sometimes there would be a reflector or two on the edge of the old once gravel now near entirely dirt road and you could catch a glimpse of the silver crowns glinting as they sat atop his crooked greyed teeth in the scant glances you dared to take of him. There wasn’t a pattern to what had been either capped or entirely removed and replaced. The contents of his mouth were like if God threw dice in his mouth and they’d been left where they lay. You’d never seen anyone with grey teeth like his, but it didn’t seem like something polite to ask about. You didn’t want to make him anymore self-conscious than he already was.

How in the hell did you talk HIM into this? Never mind you getting there. That made sense. Sometimes you just got obsessed with stupid shit and did something impulsive. Ending up going ghost hunting wasn’t the most out of pocket thing one could do. But him? How had you talked Jonathan Crane into tagging along? Really, there hadn’t been too much talking him into anything. You’d mentioned it off hand as a way to prove once and for all to him specifically that ghosts were real. You’d written him an email, asking him for his professional opinion on ghosts. Why not, right? It couldn’t have really be his email address you found on that forum page. You hadn’t expected him to even get it, let alone read it and reply. He was the fucking Scarecrow! Who knew why he did. He wasn’t giving any answers. Maybe there simply wasn’t anything else to do in Arkham. Maybe he had just been in a silly goofy mood.

‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’ That simple reply had led to a twice weekly back and forth for months via messenger and email. And it hadn’t taken long for you to grow to enjoy the electronic head butting. Looking forward to that little green dot appearing next to his profile on your friend’s list, that giddy ping of the messenger, of the email notification. Every Monday and Friday, like clockwork. He got an hour on the computer and you two would go back and forth nearly without blinking so as to not waste the milliseconds until his hour was up. If your day was ruined and, God forbid, you happened to miss his message you’d have a small book of an email impatiently waiting on you, no doubt chastising you for your poor time management in the subject column.

Then one day you got a happy little ping on a Wednesday. No one else messaged you that way so it could only be one person. “I’m being released.” Your first phone call with him was breathless and near entirely stammered while he hardly said a thing. He was being released early for good behavior. Seems the model inmate act he’d put on for those precious hours of computer time had paid off in spades. So here he was, ankle monitor and all, next to you in his old hunk of junk pickup that he’d given you the money to get out of the impound for him the day of his release. The day you’d met in person for the very first time. The day you agreed to prove ghosts were real to him while you drove him to his group home while he clutched all his remaining worldly possessions in a brown paper bag. He had nothing and you’d wanted to give him a reason to wake up in the morning. You’d wanted to make sure he knew he had a friend. Good lord, where had that gotten you? After the adrenaline wore off you were left drenched in sweat and maybe some tears alone in your apartment after you’d gotten an Uber back not knowing if you’d wake up in the morning or what because you’d never actually thought about what you were saying. It never occurred to you he’d get out. That he’d want to actually meet you.

You shiver and snap out of your mental oubliette, getting Crane’s attention on accident. “You alright, pumpkin?” His voice was low and wispy. Nearly hadn’t heard the question over the truck at all. He was making a point to speak gently. Likely so he didn’t spook you, ironically. You’d looked him up on Youtube. Listened to some of his old interviews and lectures. You knew how he sounded and the way he’d always spoken to you wasn’t what he sounded like. Not even slightly. You weren’t entirely sure if the softer tone was worse or better for your frayed nerves.

“Yeah!” You assured with a quick smile “Just zoned out.” His eyebrows arched slightly. “Saw you shiver. Not too cold, are you?” You shake your head “No, no, no. I’m okay. I promise.” He gives you a glance of a look then his eyes are back on the road. Hming slightly before saying “Alright.” and not pressing further. You actually were freezing, but this was the first time he’d been able to enjoy ac in God knows how long so you weren’t about to take that from him, especially after looking into Arkham on your own and seeing how completely miserable it was.

As you tried not to let your mind dwell on him calling you pumpkin you went back to fiddling with the chain. It was harder than it should have been because he’d said it all soft and sweet. No. Stop that right now. You’re not a hybristophiliac. He’d taught you that word. That’s what he thought you were before he read the “funny little email” you’d written. Didn’t help you’d titled it ‘I could use your expertise’. Probably should have ‘I’m here to argue’ or ‘How can you believe in aliens, but not ghosts?’ Well. You wouldn’t have known to name it that at the time, but-

“We’re here.”

You jolted and apparently you weren’t just there, but you’d been there for a while because the truck was off and he was just sitting there looking at you with his hands folded neatly over his tummy. Amused. So deeply amused by you and wherever your head was that obviously wasn’t beside him. He didn’t ask again if you were alright. He just waited quietly to see what you’d do next. Like a cat watching a fish in a bowl or at least that’s how it felt. You could nearly make out those hazel eyes in the darkness of the cab of the truck, even with their color tainted by the glow of the dashboard lights.

“Ah..hm.” You let go of the chain and let it clank to the floorboard with it’s padlock to put your hand on the slightly out of place handle “Let’s get this bread!” You…fucking idiot. Why did you say that? What’s wrong with you? He didn’t react at all which didn’t make it worse, but didn’t make it better either. What did make it worse was when you went to push the door open it only opened slightly with a loud shunk. Leaving you sitting there for a minute with wide eyes. You looked back at him and gave a nervous laugh then started jiggling the handle, but it wouldn’t open anymore than it was. Fuck. Then you had the second fright of your life when his long-fingered hand slowly crept into your peripheral vision. You might have yelped. You did. Don’t pretend you didn’t, especially to yourself. You’ll look crazy.

He eased into your space, closer than he’d ever been before. A few locks on his auburn hair spilling onto your shoulder because as lithe as he was naturally, he was still reaching across the cab of a large truck. Crane took hold of the lock latch and plucked it up, unlocking the door for you, then sat back. Making a little motion with his hand for you to go on. “Aha, ah…thank you.” You hurried out of the car knowing if you lived long enough, you’d be thinking about every second of that dorkass event with shame that would keep you up for years to come. The night couldn’t get worse…

Could it?

#you x jonathan crane #Jonathan Crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #you x scarecrow #//.mywriting.//

[summer-of-bones]

❓FAQ❓

❓Summer of Bones? Papyly? Sansgust? What??? Summer of Bones is the name for the combined events of Papyly and Sansgust, so all the information can be found in a single place instead of having to check out different accounts. Papyly is a Papyrus-centric event taking place in July, where participants choose a prompt from a bingo card to write for. The more they write, the more tickets they can earn, which they'll be able to exchange for a chance to win a prize. Sansgust is basically the same event as Papyly, but centered around Sans and taking place in August. Check out our About page here! 👉😎💀😎

❓What kind of prompts are there? We have 100 prompts in total and there is enough variation that all the participants should find one they'll enjoy writing for. Some are fluffy, other naughty, and we also have angsty ones. Popular tropes, a single word, detailed or very broad, we can assure you that you will get inspired!!!

❓Which ships are allowed? What if I'm not interested in any ship? For Papyly: Papcest, Papyrus/Reader, Papyrus/OC, solo Papyrus, or Papyrus' platonic relationship with his friends. The focus of the fic should be Papyrus. For Sansgust: Sanscest, Sans/Reader, Sans/OC, solo Sans, or Sans' platonic relationship with his friends. The focus of the fic should be Sans. AU versions of Papyrus and Sans are more than welcome!!

❓So no fontcest? No Sansby? Papgore? There are other events and ship weeks dedicated to or that allow other popular ships (fontcest, Papby, Sanster, etc…), and we would like this event to focus on showing love to the allowed ships mentioned above, so not this time, no!

❓If the event is 18+, does that mean that I must write NSFW content? Absolutely not! The event is 18+ because we mods aren't comfortable hosting an event with minors present, but that doesn't mean that we don't enjoy gen or SFW fics! So you can write SFW, NSFW, or even dark and fucked up fics during the event! Whatever the rating you choose to write for, just remember to tag everything accordingly!

❓I'm not good with words and I don't write, can I still join the event? Unfortunately, the discord server will only be open to participants at this time, but feel free to follow our accounts to get updates and see reblogs of the participants' works! We also have 2 dedicated AO3 collections for both Papyly and Sansgust, so you will be able to easily find the fics written for the event, as well as past entries!

❓What do you mean by 'bingo card'? On top of earning tickets by simply writing a fic according to the prompt they've chosen, participants will also get a bonus ticket each time a row or a column on the bingo card (where all the prompts are written) gets completed! So this is a collaborative effort to complete the whole bingo card!

❓How do tickets works? Each time you write and post a fic that fits the prompt you've chosen, you will earn tickets. The number of tickets you get depends on how many words you wrote. These tickets will be used in a raffle at the end of the event (see below). You can also get bonus tickets, but shh!! Those are secret!🔑

❓Raffle??? At the end of the event, the mods will calculate how many tickets each participant has earned, and then participants will be asked how they want to distribute their ticket into several 'pots'. There is one pot for every contributor who will offer a prize. Once all the tickets are distributed to all the pots, we will stimply hold a normal raffle with a wheel of fortune for each pot. Participants cannot win several prizes, so we will ask any participant whose name has been drawn multiple times to pick which prize they want. We will then pick another winner for the unchosen pot.

❓Who's in charge of the event? At the moment we have a team of 5 mods, Cognito, LB and MsMK (who were already mods for the event last year), and Mage and Skelebunny, our 2 new additions. On top of the mod team, we have 3 Reading mods ('rods') who will help us read ALL the fics participants will come up with during the event: Anjel, Ryu and Tomato. Please do direct all your questions regarding the organization of the event to the regular mods and not the rods! Find more about our mods here! 👉🫶

❓When you say that you are going to ID check participants, what does that entail? Do we have to send an ID somewhere? I don't really want to show my face... ID checking participants means that a mod will look at an official, valid ID to check if the participant is indeed 18+. The ID can be a state identification card, passport, driver's license, etc... anything that shows a date of birth. Any other sensible information (face, name, address, etc...) can be blurred or hidden, and once the mod has checked your ID, you'll be allowed to delete the picture from the convo on discord. All ID checking will be done through DMs with a mod (don't be afraid to request to be ID checked by a specific mod that you are comfortable with!), NOT in the event's server.

🖋️This FAQ is subject to updates 🖋️

#Summer of Bones #UT fandom event #Papyly #Sansgust

[mxpothos]

Drawn To Each Other: Chapter 1

Summary: 

"Crap, sorry, I'm going to be late getting back to the office. I'd better get going." She looked up at him and gave a shy smile. "Thank you, again. I think I needed to hear that today." Steven felt his heart flip over in his chest.

"O'course, I'm glad to have helped."

She started to walk away slowly and gave Steven a small wave.

"Well, have a good day, Steven. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" she said hopefully.

Steven felt his heart fly up into his throat.

Pairing: Steven Grant/Original Female Character, Steven Grant/Reader Word Count: 3k Rating: General, future chapters will be 18+ Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Eventual Romance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut

Notes: This is intended to be a reader-esque fic written in the third person. I had thought about posting alternate versions of this story using different pronouns for the main character (he/him, they/them etc)? If anyone has interest in that please let me know! 

Read Chapter 2  here

To: T, Jess <[email protected]> From: Management <[email protected]> Subject: data audit Attachments: DataCleanUpReport.xls

Jess,

Please see the attached document with the results of our data audit for last month. The items noted in column G need to be corrected to the items listed in column H. These corrections need to be input into the system by the end of the week. Please advise once complete.

Sincerely, Management

“Really? Again? Thanks a fucking lot” Jess huffed while slouching back into her desk chair. She was sick of leadership offloading their busywork onto her. It felt like everyone else in the department was assigned to some interesting project or another, except her. Nope, Jess was left to tidy up other people’s mistakes and deal with the drudgery nobody wanted to do.

Jess could feel a snarky reply itching its way out of her. She opted to lock her computer and depart for lunch before she did any damage. It was days like today that she was glad her office was behind-the-times enough to still have cubicles, so no one could see the agitation in her movements. Every other company Jess had worked for embraced the “open office” mentality. Being elbow to elbow with your coworkers without a sliver of privacy quickly made a bad mood so much worse.

Jess yanked her bag out of her desk drawer, and grabbed her umbrella for good measure. It was always rainy this time of year in London. She finally felt her shoulders start to relax as she walked out of the building’s front doors. She stopped at a kebab shop down the street to get a doner wrap, and wolfed it down during the rest of her walk.

Her office was only a few blocks away from the famed British Museum, and Jess had taken to spending her lunch breaks there a few times a week. Doing so had several perks -

1) It was free

2) It was relaxing and educational

And, most importantly,

3) It was the last place any of her coworkers would ever go during lunch.

Jess had recently started bringing her sketchbook along to practice drawing the many sculptures, statues, or even other visitors. It helped her feel more human, being surrounded by art and artifacts while practicing an art herself. Being an office drone will wear you down if you don’t fight it somehow.  

Today seemed to be a bit busier than usual. There were throngs of people crowding the information desk as Jess walked inside. She had hoped to grab a museum map to keep on hand, but didn’t feel like contending with the horde of people. Jess cut around the crowd and walked towards her usual corner of the museum. She had been working her way through the many Ancient Greece and Rome rooms for the last few weeks. Today, she felt like something different.

Jess paused at a sign listing the exhibits in this wing.

“Assyrian sculpture… Egyptian sculpture…hmm that sounds about perfect” she muttered to herself.

It was much calmer in the Egyptian sculpture exhibits. Maybe a dozen or so people were spread throughout the interconnected rooms. Jess took in the gorgeous statues as she slowly walked through, waiting for one to catch her eye as today’s sketch subject. She noticed there was a gift shop to her right. She glanced over and scanned the front of the counter, hoping to see a stack of museum maps like the information desk had.

“Oh, ah hello there! Can I help you?”

Jess turned to see the source of the, rather cheerful, query. The museum employee standing behind the counter looked up at her eagerly, dark wavy hair falling above his brow as he leaned over the register. Jess blinked, and finally realized she hadn’t responded to him yet.

“Oh um no, no thank you, just looking!” she stuttered out. “Well… actually, I was wondering if you had any of the exhibit maps here? I meant to grab one up front but there was such a big crowd. I know I can just pull it up on my phone… but, I prefer to have a physical copy, you know?”

Jess mentally kicked herself as she over-explained to this man who certainly didn’t care why she wanted a map.

“Ah, I’m afraid we don’t keep any of the maps or pamphlets back here," the man said in an apologetic tone.

"That's fine, no worries! Just wanted to check." Jess reassured him.

"Pretty stupid not to, now that you mention it eh? I should say something to my boss. Those would be more useful than half the stuff back here, like all these jelly scorpions. I mean what does that have to do with Egyptian history? Honestly I -”

The man cut himself off and shook his head, eyes closed.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get going on a rant there” He looked at her again with an embarrassed smile.

Jess gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile.

"Not at all, I mean I can't say I disagree with you. Though, admittedly, those hippos over there are pretty cute" she nodded to a pile of hippo plush toys and chuckled.  

"Well, technically, those are the goddess Taweret.” The man said with a teasing glance, “But, yeah, I s'pose they are cute. I think she would approve of them, actually.”

He paused for a moment before looking back at Jess.

“Right! So, er, no maps unfortunately. But I’d be happy to help direct you myself! I know this museum backwards and forwards by now.”

Jess chuckled softly. “Sure, I didn’t really have anything specific in mind. I like to come here on my lunch breaks and sketch the artifacts. I’ve been through most of the Greek and Roman exhibits, so I decided to come through here today.”

The man instantly perked up with excitement at hearing this.

“That’s just lovely! Well there’s loads to see and draw here. Over there is the sculpture of King Ramses the second, and down here we have -”

As the man animatedly explained what and where seemingly every artifact in the exhibit was, Jess took a moment to properly observe him. He wore a simple gray jacket over a slightly rumpled but brightly patterned shirt. A nametag on the front jacket pocket revealed his name was Steven. He was very handsome for a gift shop worker, with striking features and an attractive build obscured by his frenetic energy and ordinary clothing. Dark circles under his warm brown eyes hinted at some unseen stress in his life, but you would never guess it otherwise. He spoke with more passion than Jess could ever remember having in her own workplace.

“- and of course you simply MUST see the Rosetta Stone down there. Although, ha, I s’pose it wouldn’t be much for drawing would it?”

He suddenly looked bashful again, glancing back at Jess.

“It's just a big old block with some writing on it, innit?” He chuckled hesitantly “But… it did allow us to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs. So, er, it’s a rather useful big old block I’d say.”

He looked down at the counter and fiddled with some of the merchandise, the confidence he’d shown just moments ago seemed to evaporate.

“Well, er, I’ll let you get to it then.” He suddenly reverted to customer service mode, “Is there anything else I can help you with, miss?”

Jess flashed her best you’re-doing-great-sweetie smile at him.

“No, thank you, I really appreciate your recommendations.” She remembered less than half of what he’d told her, but his enthusiasm was incredibly charming.

He smiled back at her shyly “Always glad to help. Have a great day, miss.”

Jess started to walk away but thought better of it. Before she could think it through, she found herself turning back to the gift shop clerk.

“If you’re still here when I’m done, I can show you whatever I end up sketching. If you like…”

She surprised him as much as she did herself. He perked back up and grinned at her.

“I'd love that! I won’t be going anywhere ‘til closing tonight, so, you know where to find me -” He paused for half a beat “- right here. Yep.” He chuckled timidly.

“Great! Well, I’ll see you later - “

Jess pointedly glanced at his nametag again.

“- Steven.”

She gave him another warm smile and turned on her heel down the hall. She did not see Steven gazing after her with a flustered grin on his face.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Steven watched her walk away and waited for his heart rate to go back to normal. It was several minutes before he realized he still had a goofy smile plastered on his face, replaying the interaction in his head.

He made a mental note to ask for her name when she came back. Then, he felt a small lurch in his stomach at his next thought.

If she comes back.

Of course, he was getting ahead of himself. She was just being kind to him. He'd spoken with hundreds, if not thousands, of museum visitors since working here. None of those interactions went beyond surface level. None of those people would remember him or think about him once they stepped away from the gift shop counter. There was no reason to expect this time would be any different, right?

No, this was just an unusually pleasant interaction with an unusually pleasant patron. Nothing more. At the very least, it had brightened his day significantly.

And… it was the closest to anything resembling flirting he had experienced in ages.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Jess meandered through the exhibits and settled in front of a row of lion goddess statues. The plaque indicated they were representations of the goddess Sekhmet, and were likely commissioned by King Amenhotep III.

There was no bench so Jess sat on the floor. She pulled out her sketchbook and pencils, and looked up at the artifacts in front of her. She started out with a rough impression of the four statues together. Then she moved on to more detailed sketches of one statue's lion head, and then her hands resting on her lap. She captured the damaged sections as well as the skillful carvings in the stone.

Her mind wandered, not for the first time, to the sense of awe at being surrounded by works that were carved thousands of years ago. How many hands had touched these statues? How many people had played a part in their creation? Had gazed upon them where they once stood in Egypt? And then, how many had helped steal them away from their homeland to be put on display in a stuffy museum in England? Had they heard the bombs falling during the blitz? These Sekhmet statues had literally seen kingdoms, empires, rise and fall. The stories they might tell.

Jess checked the time on her phone.

Crap, better start heading back to the office.

She put a few finishing touches on her sketch and packed up to leave. Without thinking, she automatically started heading towards the museum entrance. Then she remembered her conversation with the gift shop clerk - Steven.

"Shit…" she hissed under her breath.

Why did I say I'd show him my sketches? I'm such a dork. He was probably just humoring me.

Still, she didn't want to leave him hanging. He'd seemed genuinely interested in seeing what she drew. And besides, if she was going to keep coming here she didn't want to make things awkward with any of the staff.

She walked back towards the gift shop, slightly hoping there would be a line of customers to give her an excuse to leave.

Jess rounded the corner into the gift shop area. There was Steven sitting behind the counter, not a customer in sight. Great.

Steven did an absurdly comical double take as Jess walked over. He stood up so quickly that he sent a pile of sticker packs flying across the counter.

"Oh, hey, you're back! Er, I mean, did you find everything you were looking for today?"

Jess couldn't help giggling in amusement. She had never seen someone look so weirdly cute while stumbling over themselves. She also couldn't remember the last time someone had such a reaction to her entering a room. It was a heady feeling.

"Yeah! I ended up settling on the row of Sekhmet statues around the corner there."

She tried to make eye contact with Steven as she spoke, but found herself unable to hold it for long. He gazed at her with such a rapt look on his face, hanging on her every word. Jess felt a blush creep up her neck, and made a show of digging her sketchbook out of her bag as an excuse to look away. Much to her relief, Steven quickly filled the space left by her silence.

"Lovely choice. Those Sekhmets are some of my favorites. Really interesting, Amenhotep was apparently obsessed with her. He commissioned hundreds of those statues and put them bloody everywhere, even in his tomb. I believe the ones in the museum here were originally from Thebes? Or was it Karnak?" Steven furrowed his brow and looked up towards the ceiling while searching his memory. After a beat he looked back at Jess and the sketchbook in her hands.

"D-did you find them to be good drawing subjects, then?" Steven fidgeted his hands together.

"I did, they're so beautiful. Even with the wear and damage. Um, if you wanted to see…" Jess half heartedly gestured towards her sketchbook.

"Please, absolutely!" Steven answered a little too quickly.

Jess looked down, trying to hide her growing blush. She opened to the pages she had sketched today and put the book down on the counter, rotating it to face Steven. He bent over to examine them, careful not to touch the sketches themselves.

"Brilliant, these are just brilliant, wow." Steven said in a low voice, shaking his head with a grin. "Someone here is hogging all the creative talent, - "

He looked up to lock eyes with Jess, and gestured towards her,

"- you." He chuckled self consciously.

If Jess wasn't blushing before she certainly was now.

"That's really sweet of you to say. They're just simple sketches." Jess thumbed the strap of her bag and looked at her sketchbook sitting on the counter. "I'm not a real artist or anything… it's just something I like to do in my free time. "

"No way, you're really talented! These are gorgeous. They're not just life-like but they feel… alive, like you captured a spirit hidden in the stone itself."

Jess looked up to meet Steven's gaze as he continued.

"There's something special here. I see those statues every day… but, looking at what you've drawn, it feels like I'm seeing them in a new way."

Steven paused and held Jess's gaze. Jess couldn't tell if she wanted to hug him or just burst out crying from his unexpectedly thoughtful compliment. The best she could muster was a small, quiet -

"...thank you. Really. You're… you're very kind." She gave him an embarrassed smile.

Steven beamed back at her.

"I mean, I'm no artist myself. I'm just a gift shop clerk, what do I know? But I think these are brilliant and that you're very talented."

He handed the sketchbook back to Jess. She got a glance of her watch as she put it back in her bag.

"Crap, sorry, I'm going to be late getting back to the office. I'd better get going." She looked up at him and gave a shy smile. "Thank you, again. I think I needed to hear that today."

Steven felt his heart flip over in his chest.

"O'course, I-I'm glad to have helped."

Jess started to walk away slowly and gave Steven a small wave.

"Well, have a good day, Steven. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" she said hopefully.

Steven felt his heart fly up into his throat.

"Sure! I'll be exactly right here, again. Well, unless my boss puts me on inventory, but hopefully not." He chuckled nervously and waved back to her. Then he remembered his mental note from earlier.

"Wait, ah, miss, d'you mind my asking what your name is?"

"Oh, right, not at all! It's Jess."

"Jess, lovely to meet you. I'm Steven, with a V." He pointed to his nametag.

To her continued embarrassment, Jess heard herself giggle in response.

"Lovely to meet you too, Steven with a V. See you tomorrow."

She turned and walked out of the exhibit towards the exit. It felt like there was an electric current humming through her body. She couldn't stop smiling to herself the whole walk back to the office.

Jess got back to her cubicle and settled into her desk chair with a sigh.

Steven with a V.

She was already looking forward to tomorrow’s lunch break.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Steven watched Jess walk away and collapsed back into his chair behind the counter.

He looked at the glass encased artifact sitting opposite the gift shop.

"Tell me that really just happened, please?"

His reflection in the glass crossed its arms and laughed

Oh yeah bud, that definitely just happened.

"D’you think she'll actually come back tomorrow? Do you think she'll actually want to see me again? I mean…" Steven trailed off with a sigh.

She came back today didn't she? I think she might.

"Well, hopefully I don't make an ass of myself again." Steven sighed and sank deeper into the chair.

His reflection uncrossed his arms and took a few steps forward.

Hey, despite all odds I think you actually did pretty good back there. She seemed to like you! Try not to worry about it. If it's meant to be, it'll come naturally. And… at the very least, I think you made her day by complimenting her art. That counts for something.

Steven smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Marc."

Any time, Steven.

______

Chapter 2

#moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #steven grant x original female character #steven grant x ofc #steven grant/original female character #steven grant/ofc #steven grant x f!reader #drawn to each other

[dankusner]

Now that Cat Marnell has left her post as beauty editor at xoJane—where, as the site's "beauty and health director" she infamously chronicled the intimate and more fucked-up details of her life like her drug abuse, mental health, and strained relationships—readers are wondering: What Will Happen Next?

After all, the bread and butter of Jane Pratt's site has been first-person, experienced-based essays, with interoffice activities and conversations between staffers providing fodder for posts that read like reality TV (one source told us that Pratt has been pitching a show about the office).

The more compelling, dramatic episodes revolved around Marnell's addiction and her brief absence due to employer-mandated rehab—sometimes written by Marnell's coworkers.

But weren't those her stories to tell? She seems to think so.

I spoke to Marnell the day her departure from xoJane appeared in Page Six. It quoted her as saying:

Look, I couldn't spend another summer meeting deadlines behind a computer at night when I could be on the rooftop of Le Bain looking for shooting stars and smoking angel dust with my friends and writing a book, which is what I'm doing next.

While Marnell doesn't deny her drug use, she attributes her exit to "creative unhappiness."

Having honed her editing skills at Condé Nast—as an intern at Teen Vogue and later, a beauty editor at Lucky—Marnell seems to prefer print to online media.

"I love magazines," she gushes.

In the spirit of her professional pedigree, Marnell firmly believes in some diehard women's magazine conventions, telling me, "Beauty is supposed to be aspirational."

It's a philosophy by which she lives her life.

"I threw up everyday because I was afraid of getting fat," she declares, without any hint of shame, referring to when she took a break from stimulants during her recent stint in outpatient rehab.

Even if she recognized how aspirational beauty has fucked her up, she wouldn't care.

She hated being referred to as a "lady blogger," and she's made no bones about vocalizing her distaste for the genre's earnestness or its body-positivity focus, nor is she a fan of the "gross out" stories that have become the hallmark of many women's interests' sites.

I'm not some girly blogger that's part of a sugar and spice and everything nice community, okay? I hate that. I hate that on principle.

That last quote was from one of her beauty columns for xoJane that was ostensibly about perfume, but was actually an essay outlining her aforementioned "creative unhappiness" and how it, coupled with her drug use, was affecting her behavior in the office.

She illustrated her self-proclaimed "bitchiness" by detailing a fight she got in with the site's managing editor Emily McCombs, whom she made cry.

It lifted the curtain and gave readers that inclusive feel for which Jane Pratt's publications have always strived, but have never achieved so effectively.

Watching—or rather, reading—events unfold became irresistible.

About six weeks later, a New York profile on Marnell revealed that SAY Media, xoJane's parent company, mandated that she take disability leave to attend outpatient rehab.

Her absence from the site was noticeable.

(According to SAY, she was the most-read writer on staff.)

Technically, Marnell's choice—or coercion—to seek treatment was nobody's business.

But the personal nature of the workplace at xoJane had become the business.

It seemed like it made sense to address the matter on the site.

In a piece titled, "On Dealing with Active Addicts," posted 11 days after the New York profile came out, McCombs name-checked Marnell in the dek ("This is only a little bit about Cat"), but wrote mostly about her own experience of working with an addict.

But she also shared a private phone conversation she'd had with Marnell just before she'd decided to accept the offer of treatment.

One source told us that Marnell was furious and had not given her permission for such a post.

When I pressed her about the issue, Marnell only said, "I wanted it to be completely quiet."

She's full of contradictions, though.

McCombs told me that it was Marnell's idea.

"When Cat's New York magazine feature came out, she suggested that we might want to capitalize on its traffic by having a staff member write a 'brutally honest' article about what it's like to work with an addict.

In response to that request, I wrote a draft that was more explicitly about Cat and the difficulties of working with her when she was using.

She was hurt when she read it and so we didn't run it."

I read some of the unpublished piece.

It was nasty—shockingly so.

An entire paragraph was dedicated to describing, in great detail, Marnell's physical unattractiveness and smeared makeup.

It was undoubtedly mortifying for a beauty editor to read.

McCombs reworked it, made it less about Marnell and published it.

"I didn't ask her permission to run the 'Dealing with Active Addicts' piece, but she didn't ask my permission to write about events in the office either."

Therein lies the problem with creating a group narrative amongst writers.

Who owns the material?

McCombs often writes about her own sobriety for xoJane.

When I questioned her about the ethics of being in AA and publicly discussing another person's addiction she said, "I would never, ever have told anyone about Cat going to rehab, but once she had already announced it in New York and on her Twitter, I didn't see any problem referencing it."

The back and forth made for some compelling reading, but the danger in relying so heavily on a cult of personality for material is that the lines become blurred on what's fair game for personal show-and-tell.

In an email, Marnell told me, "'Fair game' is not really how one would expect a managing editor would view an employee on disability for addiction but I had been behaving badly and I do respect her honesty—disconcerting as it is to this day."

Because Marnell's exploits had become almost synonymous with xoJane, it appeared that Pratt was forced to address the end of Marnell's employment in what came off as her own version of the site's popular feature "It Happened to Me", and was at once self-aware and self-absorbed:

I know there has been some radio silence on my end with regard to the whole issue ever since she got back from her time off. I wrote a draft for you of what happened in the last week at xoJane and it was roundly and rightfully trashed here internally.

It had heavy paragraphs in it like this:

Right now, Cat is tweeting from Soho House and I am feeling the sadness of everyone I've ever known whose use of drugs/food/sex/whatever habit limited their abilities (or desires) to fulfill their potential. From my dad, who was left on the side of the road to die and left my step-mom to clear out the s and m equipment (should s & m always have an ampersand? seems so) from under his bed and the box of wine from the shelf in the artists' colony room where he was staying, to so many others I've believed and believed in.

Oy, said my publicist.

Oy, indeed. At this point, the business model is not unlike a snake eating its own tail.

Not that I'm saying that Pratt is a snake.

In fact, Marnell only had lovely things to say about how much she respects her former boss.

"I love Jane. We have a special Duke parents blond prep school magazine-y bond and we are both very skinny naturally."

It will be interesting to see where xoJane goes from here.

With the identity of the site wrapped up so tightly in the identity of its staffers and their relationships with one another, there is clearly an endless font of stories to tell. Who has the right to tell them, however, is much murkier.

Drugs more fun than work [Page Six] Cat's Gone [xoJane] Cat Marnell on Jane Pratt, Her Book, and Splitting From xoJane.com [New York]

"Between you and me," writes Cat Marnell in the book proposal which netted her a $500,000 advance from Simon & Schuster, "half the time I feel very little remorse. AND I have a massive ego, if I really think about it."

In her proposal, which was leaked to us, Marnell details her life so far.

In case you haven't been keeping up with New York, the , the Wall Street Journal, Page Six, or any of the other media outlets that enjoy a good young-woman-in-peril story, Cat Marnell is an ex-Lucky staffer, an ex-XOJane.com health editor, an ex-Vice columnist, and a self-described glamorous drug addict. Spoiler alert: she came from an unhappy home.

The proposal is divided into two sections: a 35-page "outline" of the book, which tells the story of Marnell's life so far, and a 38-page essay that appears to be a sample chapter. ("Appears to be" because it has no title, no clear relationship to the outline, and begins with an epigraph from the poet Chard DeNiord, whose name Marnell misspells. Organization, like proofreading, is hardly Marnell's strong suit.)

Marnell begins the outline with a section called, appropriately, "Beginnings."

It details her childhood in Bethesda, Maryland, and her relationship with her psychiatrist dad ("a rage-filled narcissist to us but an upstanding conservative Republican and Washingtonian magazine 'Best Psychiatrist' to everyone else") and therapist mom ("a diabetic, anorexic…an emotional vacant lot, 95 lbs. all the time with dead eyes.")

Her childhood sounds like a monied, WASP-y kind of hell: domestic violence, a father screaming "Real silver doesn't go in the dishwasher," and filet mignon in a Frank Lloyd Wright-designed house.

Marnell mentions the family dining table cost $5,000.

"All I've ever wanted my whole life," she says, "was a way to escape and get numb."

At 15, Marnell is sent away to boarding school in Massachusetts:

I went right for the hottest, richest, most popular senior and was blowing him in his car in three weeks flat.

Social climbing through sex has always been one of my specialties.

I don't fuck for love, I fuck to put my name on any given particular New York map.

I lost my virginity to a hockey player on a bathmat during a weekend hotel party at the Royal Sonesta Hotel in Boston.

Then I slept squished on a bed with three dudes.

The next day I caught a ride to Cape Cod from school acquaintances and slept alone on the beach.

Prep school is insane!

So insane, in fact, that Marnell ends up getting kicked out:

Senior year was more of the same.

I bought ecstasy in bulk from legendary teen drug lord Sketchy Ralph, and sold it to underclassmen at an AIDS Day Awareness dance.

I was kicked out — "asked to leave," as they say — a month before graduation, over three months pregnant with the student government president's baby.

At the time of my dismissal, I had the top GPA in the class (tied with the German genius Marcus, natch) and was Tatania [sic] in "A Midsummer Night's Dream." […]

Oh yes, and that pregnancy?

Turns out I'd let it go to the second trimester and had to have a violent, no-anesthesia abortion in a ghetto clinic somewhere in the District, where I shook, wept, and sobbed in agony on a table.

My mother accompanied me and in the "recovery room" said very little — she is not a nurturer, that one! — but did hand me a bottle of Xanax prescribed to me by my father, a prescription written in advance that I didn't ask for.

And that, my friends, was how I was introduced to my good friend benzodiazepines, a family of pills I have taken daily nearly every day of my life since.

When she moves to New York to attend the New School, Marnell's parents pay her rent and give her "about $1000 bucks in the bank every month to spend on whatever I pleased," which naturally allows her drug problems to worsen.

"I was doing Adderall and coke and a little heroin still of course, but I was in the city, the great love of my life, and I was part of it, and I spent many years like this fantastically in love with myself," Marnell writes. "I used sex, drugs, nightlife and men, and I let them use me. We were all together, snorting up life like a line."

Marnell does everything she can to get drugs.

Though her father stops prescribing her Adderall when she turns 24, she had no trouble "doctor-shopping" for new scripts.

Scripts for everything: amphetamines, benzos, sleeping pills, anti-narcolepsy medications.

I started visiting plastic surgeons to book fake nose jobs and things, because when you book a surgery you get your painkiller scripts written in advance to fill pre-surgery.

Then I would cancel the nose jobs. Easy!

The proposal is also stuffed with blind items.

A particularly compelling one is regarding "the son of one of the most famous living Democrats," who was an acquaintance of Marnell's from the period after she left prep school and was finishing high school in D.C. Allow Marnell to explain:

I sat with the politician's son in a parked Oldsmobile crushing beers and taking mushrooms with him and my boyfriend on dark secluded streets with the Secret Service parked behind us, watching, watching.

Later, at her 18th birthday party:

The son of the famous unnameable politician was there too; the secret service camped outside out hotel suite door. We binged on every drug and no one cared; no one got in any trouble.

Any guesses?

Marnell brags about her dishonesty in college — "I was a non-fiction writing major, and I turned in the same pieces over and over again to all my different professors and never got caught" — and her ease in finding a job as an assistant beauty editor at Lucky after graduation.

Marnell outlines how she manipulates coworkers, doctors, and friends into enabling her addictions.

At Condé Nast, she has her interns fill her prescriptions for her.

She goes to rehab ($1000/day for 30 days; dad pays), relapses, dates a heroin addict, goes to a mental hospital.

Throughout the proposal, Marnell displays an obsession with weight.

She sizes up and catalogs the body size of virtually every woman mentioned, and chronicles her own dwindling weight with something like pride.

Marnell's interest in drugs is broad and catholic.

Here's Marnell on taking anti-psychotics, which are "easy to score from psychiatrists" because they're not narcotics:

"I always welcomed any feeling that legitimate mental illness was finally overtaking me (it's never stuck, alas), for this would explain my bad states and also protect my pills, my pills, my pills."

Marnell seems to want very badly to be seen as a victim — of her parents' emotional distance, of their preference for expressing care in the form of pharmaceutical prescriptions, of her user boyfriends.

But her proposal describes her being afforded the kinds of second, third, and fourth chances that most people don't get.

Coworkers cover for her when she can't even bring herself to write "200 words, say, on the new spring lipstick shades."

Frankly, Marnell gets the kinds of first chances people not of her background are rarely offered.

Her bosses defend her to higher-ups.

Media companies she works for — Condé Nast, Say Media, and Vice — pay for her stints in rehab and hospital care.

Even as Marnell remains the type of person who stops to apply "some sort of gooey red raspberry mask" to her face when she wakes at 9:37 on the morning of a very important 10 AM meeting, for which she is completely unprepared.

Drug abuse, says Marnell, starts to turn her skin "no-joke Nixon-vs.-Kennedy green."

"To be clear," writes Marnell at the end of her outline, "this book is not a recovery memoir."

She intends to write about her "ambivalence" about drugs, which she still uses.

"Addiction is a glittering disease as much as it is a devastating one. Rehabs and healthy daylight life have bored me to death every time I've tried them. I've spent the last fifteen years feeling, alternately, like I was drowning in addiction or that the black magic of drugs and being high was literally my life force, making me perform better than everybody else. And so I keep using (or do I? — stay tuned; I don't even know myself)."

The proposal closes with a glamour shot of Marnell and the words:

I will write a New York Times #1 Bestseller. Swag!

#Youtube

[roscoerieux]

Entry 001: The Courteous degenerate

These illustrious and dreamy pages have been an unwavering companion throughout the last decade. They've been a haven where both my vices and virtues dance freely, have spirited discussions and dine to the fluctuation of my wellbeing.

Posting these entries have no goal, no desired outcome. It'd be appropriate to call these entries an online archive of sporadic thoughts that may resonate with some, and annoy others.

There are many wise conclusions that have come to fruition in this very place just as the many writers have arrived at, before me.

I've read the stories, seen the characters, and the many lives to pattern my life after. But it is a new dawn, and a new experience that is all my own.

So who am I to become? And what shall this life entail?

Is it a dangerous life, brimming with drugs, sex and money. Or perhaps merely a dream of such a life, written in the prose of a man, distant from the danger.

I don't believe I was ever one to stray too far from the dangers of the world. There is truly a homely essence about them. The dealers and degenerates, the violent and conflicted, there's an honesty there that I appreciate, and respect.

Many men and women who preach safety, tend to swim in pools of opulence, and hardly wear their souls upon their face. They hide it, even from themselves, shameful in their debaucherous acts, no matter how abundant.

Why do you think sex workers are still employed? Politicians and shit.

The nature of the wealthy is not far from the decrepit. The only difference is they do it a little more blatantly.

***

My roots are far from luxurious. I come not from wealth, nor extreme poverty, though the middle end of the latter.  The sacrifices of some have permitted me tools that I wield to speak with you, and tools I use to find this hidden path, buried in an empty page I'm yet to write.

A diagram that paints the infinite path, woven into the fabric of my DNA, that takes me from bedroom ponderer to visionary artist.

Of course I say money is not the goal, but I'd be kidding myself, the readers and listeners if I said the thought was not in the room. It is not the focus, but a blurred character in the background.

Dare I say the second desire is a bit more polarising - The freedom in debauchery. Again, I'd be kidding myself if I said I don't dream of self expression and a higher consciousness. Of soul quenching fucks and spiritual awakenings.

I suppose I justify myself in saying that such desires are not to the detriment of anyone. More a collective debauchery, of degenerate poets, and intellectual muses. Women of power and Men of wisdom dining to the words and sounds of beauty.

As of the late the cities seem to be overrun with far more gremlins than usual. I've seen the gutters of a foreign city, and strolled the marble columns of nowhere. And still the beings I've seen lately have remained rather conventional.

Where are they, these debaucherous clans of courteous degenerates? Where are they hiding? And where may I find them?

#desire #debauchery #70s #literature #opulence #vices and virtues

[jackdaw-kraai]

Jack! I need urgent assistance!

Why the fuck is it so hard to make a realistic fictional language?!

I have literally scoured the deepest, darkest places of the internet to try and understand how to make my own fictional language that is important to story but I just don’t get it.

I have watched behind the scenes Star Trek, Game of Thrones, and Avatar to try and understand how they came up with such beautiful and articulate languages but once again, came up empty, it’s like trying to explain physics to a donkey AKA me.

Can you help me? And if you can, please explain it to me like I am a dumb toddler trying to learn how to write my name for the first time?

Oof. Now, there's many conlang guides out there, but they're all for people who actually like conlanging and I, dear reader, do not. I hate conlanging, I suck at it, and analytic grammar is a consistent foe of mine that I cannot beat. But, conlanging is one of the best ways to introduce a whole heaping helping of realism to your setting as well as getting you to really think about how said setting works as you need to figure out what would have an individual word and why. Now that'll make sense in a moment, I promise.

But first...

Jack's Quick 'n Dirty Guide To Conlangs For If You Hate Conlanging

Step One: sounds.

Sounds (ha!) easy right? Weeeeeell... yes and no. Now, the easy part is making the sounds, really. Just start babbling in a way that you want your conlang to sound like and get going! Sing a bit, put on whatever accent you want, really have some fun with it until it sounds right. You got that? Good, now note that down in plain text as best as you can. Do whatever makes sense to you, but make sure you know exactly how to pronounce the sound once you've annotated it so you can reproduce it later, trust me on this one. But now comes the hard part.

Step Two: IPA

If you don't know what IPA is, bless your heart you innocent soul, you're about to learn something that will make you lose a bit of innocence today. IPA stands for the International Phonetic Alphabet and it can annotate the exact pronunciation of any words in any language in the world. If you've ever had a dictionary in front of you and you see that little section underneath the word where it's written again but like, with upside down Es and symbols that look like æ and đ and even ɮ? Congrats, you know what IPA looks like. Now, this thing was designed by some very clever people with an eye for thoroughness but not for practicality. See, it can notate every pronunciation there is, but boy oh boy, will it not make that easy for you. Read up on it anyway, learn how to use it, pull out an afternoon for it, you're gonna need it. IPA Chart is a good website that will help you out here, it's an interactive version of the IPA alphabet with short pronunciation sound clips attached to each symbol. Done all that? Good. Now we get to the really bitchy part.

Step Three: notate every funny sound you made down in IPA

Yes, every single one. Pull up an excel spreadsheet, notate the plain text in one column, a pronunciation in the second, and leave a third open for later. Notate every single word as best as you can, and make sure to save your work. This is gonna be long work, this is gonna be tedious work, and it's gonna be necessary work. You won't like it, you won't have fun, but future you will thank you and you would do anything for that bitch so get notating until you get to

Step Four: What does anything even mean????

Finally, some fun again. Now we get to the part where you get to assign meaning to each sound you've produced. Remember how I advised you to sing a little song? Yeah? Excellent. A quick and easy way to get a bunch of words sorted is to write a roughly similar song in a language that does exist and one you preferably understand already, and use that as a "guide" of what each word is "supposed" to mean. Make your own rosetta stone! Give yourself a break, trust me, it's much easier this way. And don't be afraid to get creative. See one sound or syllable you used a lot? Great, that can be a pronoun or an article or something else that's often used in a language.

Example: I liked the word "ra" a lot, so that's the word for "I" in Karilaa. From there I picked a few other words I liked and roughly hashed out the following

Ra = I

Ta = You

Su = We

Vu = They

Easy, good, simple. I don't bother with gender because fuck gender, but if you want it, go for it champ, now's the time. And you know what else I noticed while doing this? I was using "ra" and "ta" a lot in the last syllables of words, so I figured out how tenses work in my language as well in one fell swoop and made them affixes to verbs.

Really, there are no rules, so make them up to suit whatever aesthetic you want your language to have, but make sure to write everything down. No exceptions. Everything has to be written down.

Step Five: Rinse and repeat

Congrats, you now have some basics of a language! You can basically use and reuse this recipe to get More Language of the language you already have and guess what! Now you already have some language so you won't have to start from scratch! It's like a sourdough starter! Now ain't that neat. Now, if you do this and keep meticulous notes like I told you to you'll essentially be building up your own dictionary as you go, ready to consult for all your future conlanging needs.

Now, is this how good conlangers do it? No! Hell no! Absolutely not! But I'm not a good conlanger, and if you want this guide, neither are you. I'm sorry, but I'd rather you hear it from me than them when they invoke J.R.R. Tolkien's ghost to roast you. This is a guide for people who want a conlang but suck at conlanging. This is a guide for people who can't do it all neat and according to the rules but need to brute force a bitch in order to get some practical results for immediate use.

Now go forth and create!

#jack rambles #writing #writing tips #the guides verse #guides verse #conlang #conlanging #worldbuilding

[tteokdoroki]

all the love in the world | k.bakugou.

⇝ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

⇝ word count: 5.1K

⇝ rating: 18+, mature.

⇝ genre: pro hero!au, engaged!au, fluff and smut.

⇝ summary: as hard to believe as it may seem, bakugou lives for time off, where the days begin with him waking up by your side and  end with him falling asleep right next to you, while he thinks of all the ways he can love you during the hours in between.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! fluffy domestic bakugou ( i think this needed a warning okay? ), smut ( characters aged up to 20s ), soft morning sex, fingering ( female recieving ), dry humping, light!praise, heavy!breeding kink, switch!reader, dom!bakugou.

⇝ author’s note(s): hellooo my loves ! as a celebration of me reaching 100+ followers, i bring you my very first written imagine !! i love the idea of domestic baku so i hope you enoy reading as i did writing !! special thanks to @ozzy-bozzy​ for the teddy bear bracelets idea hehe

⇝ masterlist | requests

katsuki bakugou considered himself to be a very lucky person.

when he was younger he’d been blessed by a powerful quirk which only lead him to exceed his classmates back in U.A. he’d graduated said school’s hero course top of his class, even if he’d failed his provisionals the first time round— nothing could stop him from becoming the best.

so when the hot headed blonde bagged the role of side kick at a top hero agency and then launched himself to the highest points in the hero charts as a pro later on, katsuki felt like all of his dreams had come true.

that was until, he’d proposed to you.

you were katsuki’s final dream, for him to wait for you at the end of the aisle— your watery smile just for him. 

that’s the vision he saw in his sleep. when you had said yes to him, the night you got engaged under the stars and amongst the roses, it was then that the explosive hero had realised how lucky he truly was.

he had loved you for a long time, katsuki had— he almost couldn’t remember the time when he hadn’t. in the time that you’d spent together; soft gazes and lingering touches, you’d taught him a lot and he’d learned through your tolerance and generosity, something that had rubbed off on him, something he’d so desperately needed to cool down his hot demeanour.

he was grateful for a lot of things, all of the things you’d taught him— but mostly the entirety of you. while you’d always said that neither of you completed each other and only made one another better, bakugou knew that his life would be complete with you in it forever.

 he knew  from the moment you’d pinned him down underneath you during training back in high school— that he was going to make you his wife someday.

“jesus katsu, why’re you up s’early? it’s supposed to be our day off,” you mumble into your silk sheets; his scent sewn into your pillows. katsuki likes the orange silk that lines your bed; mostly because of the colour and partly because other fabrics irritate his skin. with sleepy eyes, you blink up at the blonde and catch him staring mid act. like always, bakugou looks away with a heated blush and paws it away from his cheeks. “whatcha lookin’ at dummy?”

one of kastuki’s favourite things is the way you look when you first wake up, groggily rubbing the sleep away from your eyes with a pout on your lips as the sun hits your face just right— creating a halo effect around you, like you’re his guardian angel…but he wouldn’t ever admit that to you, at least not until his wedding vows. “it’s the only time i get to look at you without hearin’ the dumb shit that comes out your mouth, woman.” katsuki grumbles back, finally meeting your eyes again.  

he can clearly see the love glittering your irises and the faint smile that plays teasingly on your lips as if you know that he’s joking. unwillingly; bakugou feels himself mirror the grin that you bare and a happy warmth then spreads across his chest.

“we still have the whole day ahead for you to ogle me like that katsuki bakugou,” you hum sweetly, the tail end of your words falling into a light giggle. the ash blonde feels his heart flutter just from the sound; a candied melody to his ears that he could never get tired of hearing. 

reaching over your shoulder, katsuki uses his warm hands to roll you over onto his awaiting lap. 

your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as the sheets fall from your body to reveal yourself in one of his shirts with an old merch design and your fingers weave their way into his pretty blonde hair. 

now that you’re in his lap; the pro hero can see the smirk making its way into your face as you look down at him lovingly. “seems like you were doing more than just looking baby…”

your hips grind down against your lover’s now prominent erection that sits hidden in his dark sweats— earning a slight gasp from the man himself. “s-shut up, dumbass…” bakugou growls through gritted teeth while you move above him. 

his words stay lodged in his throat, he wants to tell you that you’re always on his mind no matter what he’s doing or looking at but instead they die down as he drops his head to your neck, leaving sweet kisses along the column of it.

early morning love making with you was what katsuki bakugou considered one of his many blessings. he loves being this close to you— feeling every dip in your skin and kissing every mark on your body, his lips work their way up from your jawline to your chin and finally attempting to land a solid kiss to your own lips.

“nuh, katsu—“ your breathless whine fills the air, sending shivers down the spine of the man below you. he moves up to kiss you again, gripping your hips tightly while your movements begin to sync. “no, morning…morning breath…”

bakugou huffs, hand finding the back of your head to tilt it down into a soft liplock— contrasting with the harshness of his earlier movements. “fuck morning breath, i haven’t made love to you properly in a fucking week so let me kiss you. fuck.” usually, katsuki would have added his salty pet name of ‘shitty woman’ to the tail end of his phrases but he bites his tongue, saving it for later.

you give into your fiancé then, falling in love with the way his lips meld against yours so passionately all over again. fingers that belong to bakugou dance underneath your shirt, finding you bare within the fabric. one hand slips between your plush thighs, smoothly rubbing circles into your swelling clit ever so gently.

your breath hitches as katsuki traps you under his touch, playing with your folds as they begin to grow slick and form a wet patch on his deep grey sweats, making him groan. 

the explosive pro pushes two of his digits past your entrance, curling them and watching with sparkling scarlet eyes as your mouth hangs open in of the prettiest moans katsuki’s ever heard— his mouth falls open with you while your head tilts back, exposing your sweat glimmering skin to the sun’s rays. “feel good baby? yeah, you like that?” he mumbles condescendingly, slowly pumping them inside of you. “yeah you do,  yeah you fuckin’ do.”

“yeah, katsu...more…” a  breathless moan escapes you with every thrust of bakugou’s hot fingers, the cheeky bastard setting off small scale explosions to stimulate you from within. he’s hot, the heat from his body filling the space between you and spreading right down to your glistening mound— causing slick to gush from your tiny abused hole. 

you can feel his cock pulse beneath you with every twist of his fingers to reach that spongy pleasure spot deep within your leaking hot walls.

katsuki’s thick fingers stretch open your tiny hole, making your mouth water at the thought of his weighty cock being the next thing press into you but your raging thoughts are swiftly interrupted by your fiancé— who pulls from you completely and sucks the two fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of your sweet nectar.

katsuki keeps his vermillion eyes locked on you, the lewd action making saliva pool on your tongue. his own pink muscle darts out to wet his lips, no doubt spreading the taste of you across them before making a move to kiss you. 

the pro is quickly stopped, your hands that once roamed his bare back and messed hair, now pinning his own above his head.

bakugou is a strong man, he wouldn’t have been a top hero if he wasn’t— he trained constantly and sparred often with his fellow heroes but he doesn’t resist when you grip his wrists in your free hand, releasing his hard cock from it’s restraints before it slaps against his well toned stomach.

milky precum leaks against his warm skin, while you prepare yourself to mount him. the pair of you let out a groan in unison as you sink down on the hero’s thick length— as if the tensions and stresses of the week have melted away just him being sheathed inside of you.

“mnnn, so fuckin’ tight baby, gonna need to fuck you open again…”

bakugou’s voice is low and gravelly from the early morning, just how you like as his hips roll up into yours— further pushing his fat cock into you. his tip barely grazes your cervix  as you set the pace, lifting yourself up and down to bounce on your lover’s length. 

the way you feel inside, your soft velvety walls and gushing pussy make him buck up into you with more fever, as his own symphony of moans and weightless gasps dance through your ears. “yeah? take this pussy katsuki…m-make it yours,” you sigh, grip on his wrists loosening to the point where you set him free.  the blonde’s hands immediately move to grip your ass tightly— smirking at you lazily while the pads of his fingers sink into your flesh.

you look beautiful to him, bouncing on his cock and dripping all over his pelvis under the early morning sun, the way the gold lights up your hazy lust filled eyes.  

the fire of desire burns brightly in the depths of katsuki’s stomach, love finds its way into each of his thrusts from then on— mind clouding with the desire to fill you up so good with his love as the leaking  head of his thick girth drags against your walls, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. “that’s right yn baby…fuck that cock, fuck yeah baby,” he whispers brokenly to you, chest rising and falling desperately while sweat beads on his hairline. “love you, love you s’much...”

bakugou watches your gaze on him soften at his confession, the words he doesn’t say often but shows you everyday still hanging in the thick, warm air.  “i love you katsu, p-please,” your erratic thrusts slow to somewhat of a passionate grind, two lovers pressed hotly against one another as the sounds of your moans twist with that of skin on skin.

knot in your stomach tightening, katsuki can feel your release creeping on you from the way you clench around him at every plunge deep inside your sweet hole. strong arms wrap around you, katsuki noticing how you shake from pleasure above him while he brings you down onto loving thrusts as if to draw you closer. 

“gonna cum!”

your fiancé nods into your neck, rubbing smooth circles over your back as he pulls out of your heat completely and earns a needy whine from you. your hole spasms around nothing, right on the edge of release before bakugou forces his girth back into your accepting pushing. “cum for me angel, right on this cock,” he pants, holding you close while he rocks into you. “i've got you baby, let it all out…”

“mph, baku-! oh !”

hips stilling above his, you scratch and claw at any part of bakugou’s skin that you can— shaking as your release splashes against him, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head and white spots dancing across your vision. the tightness of your heat drives the pro right over the edge, hot ropes of thick cum painting your insides white as his release reaches your womb.

the pair of you lay still, catching your breath as you collapse forward on your lover’s chest. while your breathing slows, katsuki rubs warming circles into your back to help calm you down— only smiling softly when you look up at him with clear, affectionate eyes. “did so good for me yn, fuckin’ love it when you take my cock like that first thing in the morning,” his words are soft on his usually sharp tongue, bakugou smoothing a thumb over your cheek while using a forefinger to tilt your head up into a sweet kiss

“always and only for you, my love,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut at the simple gesture even after you pull away. “and if you keep cummin’ in me like that katsuki ‘m gonna end up pregnant one of these days…”

bakugou smirks, pressing smaller kisses all over your face to make you giggle. you smile and greedily accept each one, loving the these tender moments between yourself and your fiancé.  “maybe that’s the fucking point, dumbass,”  he quips, biting on your cheek after landing a kiss there. “trying to put a shitty little brat in you.”

despite the small bite to his words, a blush still manages to creep its way onto katsuki’s face as you lay your head down on his chest with a smack to his waist. the ash blonde means every word and you know it too, he can tell by the knowing smile and slight gleam in your eye.

you fall back asleep not long after bakugou cleans you up.

he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy counting every mark and bite he’d left on you as he tenderly wiped between your thighs and massaged over your skin. 

but he loved how cute you looked when curled up on his chest more, your hand clings to bakugou’s shoulder as if to check he’s still there even in your sleep— giving the hero ample opportunity to play with the ‘teddy bear’ bracelet thats cuffed to your wrist. you’d made it for one of your anniversaries; matching the ‘grizzly bear’ one on his own.

prying himself from your arms is no easy task for katsuki, your grip on him like an adorable iron vice or a child with a teddy bear. after setting himself free, the ash blonde with the crimson eyes heads down to the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of you— it was some what of a routine on your days off together, you always got the munchies after sex and bakugou knew just how to soothe your roaring appetite.

as he worked with the eggs and other breakfast ingredients, katsuki thought back to how much you praised him for his skills in the kitchen— he knew how much you loved his cooking and he would do anything to see you smile.

“god katsuki, i might have to start taking more days off it means i get to see my grizzly bear in the kitchen like this,” you hum from place leaning against the door frame. 

your fiancé turns round to face you with a light smirk, glimmering eyes inviting you further into the room. the explosive pro holds the sizzling pan he’d taken off the stove high above your head as you cuddle into his side, breathing in his warm caramel scent.

katsuki clicks his tongue, staring down at you fondly. “tell that to the fucking villains who fuck up the city every other day, maybe then we’d have more time to relax.” he counters, pulling a sweet chuckle from your sweet lips.

“if we start handing out your cooking, they’ll probably start turning themselves in!” you tease your lover back, swiping a bit of the pancakes from the pan above your head. katsuki grumbles and pats your ass indulgently— the supple skin peaking out from under the shirt that’s found it’s way back over your form. it’s a silent scold for eating before he’s fixed you a plate of all your favourites.

as usual bakugou pulls out your chair at the table, pressing his lips to your hairline before putting your steaming plate in front of you. your mouth waters while katsuki takes his seat opposite you with rolling eyes as he watches you tuck in to your breakfast. 

the entirety of your meal is filled with lingering gazes and hums of delight while you eat, almost as if you’re back on your first date ( bakugou spent half of the time watching you eat rather than doing so himself, but he just wanted to see if you liked the place ). 

leaning over the table to wipe syrup from your chin, the blonde smirks— quiet words falling calmly from his lips. “what do you want to do today, sweetheart?”

the birds chirps lovingly outside of your window, dancing under the sunshine— they remind you of your early mentor and often patrol partner hawks, who you needed to remember to invite to dinner soon. 

the weather is nice today and that gives you an idea. “let’s go out,” your eyes sparkle with a million dreams, each one bakugou wants to live out with you. “to the park with the roses, the pink ones where you—“

“where i proposed, got it,” katsuki smiles, the fond memory catching the tail end of his words. “i hear they introduced some new blooms too.”

you mirror his expression; stabbing your fork through a strawberry in the bowl of fresh fruit your lover had prepared for you. you hold the fork out to his lips and watch amusedly as he chomps the fruit from its place. “care to escort me, lover bear?”

“who else is going to? dumbass.”

“miss nightsky ! will ya sign my bag!”

“that’s a nice bag sweet one, you sure i can sign it?”

katsuki loves the way you are with kids, even though you’re a massive child yourself.

the pair of you decided to walk to the park; since the nice weather held up and it wasn’t too far from your private neighbourhood— even though it took a little longer to get there than expected. 

not that either of you minded, but many curious fans stopped to talk and ask for pictures; some even asked for autographs which you happily gave them. while the mighty ground zero was slightly grumbly about it, he adored how kind and patient you were with everyone you met no matter how old they were.

his vermillion eyes, though brownish looking under golden light, sparkle as you ruffle the little kid’s hair and wave politely to their awaiting parents. bakugou wants to have kids with you one day. 

it was something he hadn’t really thought about until recently, he knew it would be difficult, with both of you reaching the heights of your careers and the pair of you were still very private about your relationship as well, with word of your recent engagement already slipping into the tabloids.

there was no doubt that they’d speculate about your marriage too, no matter how private you kept it. keeping a child secret would be even harder. 

and yet; the thought of you holding a baby…his baby would, on some nights lull him to sleep.

you squeal like a little girl when the ash blonde stops to buy you an ice cream from a van by the entrance of the park; he can’t stand how much you love mint chocolate chip but buys you a towering double scoop anyways.  “how do you even eat that toothpastey shit?” bakugou grumbles, finishing off his orange popsicle as you walk into the flower garden.

“says the one who likes orange, you have no taste katsuki bakugou.” you chide but take his freehand nonetheless. the explosive pro’s thumb brushes over the back of your hand while you make your way through and he can’t help but pluck one of the pretty blooms from the bushes to tuck behind your ear.

you scold him for taking the flowers but your smile betrays you as katsuki dips you for a honeyed kiss on the lips. 

he’s never one for PDA but this was your spot, here just last year bakugou had sunk to his knees in front of you with an expensive diamond ring you were eyeing months before ( you would never say anything but katsuki always picked up on these things ). 

he would also never admit it, but his hand shook with every word that passed his lips and you were sure he had been crying harder than you were while he slipped a ring on your finger.

your secret kisses and tangled limbs hiding deep in the rose bushes are soon completely soaked by an onslaught of unexpected rain.

you shriek at the rain while katsuki grabs your hand, free arms thrown over your heads as you make a dash from the flower garden and head for the main streets in order to catch a bus.

the pair of you giggle as you stumble onto the vehicle, ringing out your drenched clothes and wiping at your wet faces as it heads home. bakugou pulls you into his arms, head resting atop yours to draw you closer— the heat from his quirk allows him to keep you warm and you get a load full of his sugary scent as well ( not that you mind ).

you stay like that on through the rustling traffic, cuddling like a cat to your heated fiancé but a tug on the bottom of bakugou’s wet shirt captures your attention. the pair of you look down to catch the innocent eyes belonging to a darling little girl. “u-uh h-hi mister gwound zewo!” the little one stumbles through her words and in the corner of your eyes you can spot the girl’s mother and give her a reassuring grin.

bakugou’s gaze softens at the curly haired girl and releases you to crouch down to her level despite the shaking bus.  his hand still holds onto yours though. 

he ruffles her hair with his free hand, making your heart warm— there was a side of katsuki the public never really got to see, where the hotheaded pro could be tender and quiet and often quite reserved. 

the media got a kick out of playing on the ash blonde’s explosive nature but moments like this let the real bakugou shine through.

“hey there kiddo, whatcha’ got there?” katsuki mumbles delicatley, noticing the girl hiding something behind her back.

“tisswue! for my favouwite hewo!” the little one says, gingerly holding it out to the blonde’s wet face for him to use. bakugou taps his cheek and cleans closer to let the little girl wipe his face with a tiny chubby hand. they chatter for the rest of the ride home— the girl bashfully twirling her hair around her fingers as katsuki compliments her quirk.

leaning your head on katsuki’s soused shoulder while you walk home, you look up at him with an adoring expression, wondering what he’d be like with a little girl of your own. “that was quiet adorable mister ground zero, you stole my hear away!” you tease, kissing your linked hands.

“yeah? well don’t get used to it shitty woman.” he says through gritted teeth and marches you both through the rain to get you home but the blush on his face tells you otherwise. if you ever had a daughter, you could only imagine what he’d be like with her.

katsuki heads straight for the shower when you get in, leaving you to pick a movie and order takeout as you’d discussed on the way home.

it was a regular routine for you both on nights off; you always picked the movie because if you left it up to your fiancé you’d end up watching some boring documentary on all might or cooking ( he was a closeted nerd at heart ). 

you settle on a cheesy romcom that you’ve seen about a hundred times because for one;  it’s your favourite and two, you’ll never get tired of seeing bakugou cry towards the end of the movie.

“take out should be here in twenty!” you call to your lover, when he passes by you to enter your living room.

“got it, now go wash up before you catch a cold, stupid—“ the ends of katsuki’s words are cut off by your stream of giggles, bouncing off your cream coloured walls. your ash blonde fiancé has half a mind to curse you out for slapping his ass through his fresh set of sweat pants but rolls his eyes nonetheless. 

he finishes pulling his tank top over his head while heading deeper into the room, not wanting to answer the door without one ( as much as your regular delivery driver would like that ).

while in the shower, you manage to scrub away stains of the rain and soreness from the day— washing over sweet love marks from katsuki with pride. a temporary reminder of his eternal love for you and you only. 

there’s already a change of clothes waiting for you when you step out of the shower; one of his old shirts and a set of boxers that you slip into comfortably. your nostrils are filled with nothing but the alluring scent of burning sugar, the traces left by bakugou himself.

he’s already munching on a box of tempura by the time you’ve headed back downstairs, crimson eyes light up when they land on you and you make a dive for the couch— rolling into katsuki’s side. “did you tip the delivery driver?” you ask, watching as your fiancé dips a piece of the food into some sauce before he holds it up to your lips.

“damn right i did, i didn’t wanna though…they kept staring at my arms,” bakugou revels in the way you laugh around the piece of food he pushes into your mouth. you chew with a grateful smile, the look of amusement never leaving your pretty face. “whatcha laughin’ at dumbass?”

“i think you forget how much the public loves your arms, ground zero.”

as soon as you press play on the movie, time seems to fly away from you both— the air is filled with streams of laughter and moments where you swipe from one another’s plates, picking on one another fondly. somehow by the time the film reaches it’s climax the food has been devoured and you’ve ended up huddling into bakugou’s chest. 

fingers laced with yours, bakugou twirls the diamond engagement ring you have on, around your finger, smiling at the precious reminder that you’re to be his forever and always.  “where do you think we’ll be in the future?” you question quietly, nuzzling into your fiancé’s side.

“married, of course.” crimson eyes find yours in the dimly lit room, almost rolling annoyance as if your question is the dumbest thing in the world. in response, you lean up and squish the explosive pro’s cheeks together and beam up at him while he scowls at you.

“stupid, you know that’s not what i meant,” the words despite harsh, leave your lips dreamily and a contented expression crosses your face. “i see us with kids, in a house much bigger than this one and a backyard that stretches for miles and miles—“ your words die warmly in your throat, figuring that you’ve gotten slightly carried away with the fanticies you’ve made for yourself and katsuki. 

in your mind, you can’t help but conjour up a litter of tiny bakugou’s running around a plush green garden— maybe a little dog too and your heart swells in your chest at the idea.

the hot head squeezes your hand, resurfacing you from your sea of thoughts. “you want kids? with me?” his voice is barely above a whisper, all of his vulnerabilities splayed out in the tone as he looks at you warmly.

“a whole family with you, as many as you want.”

suddenly, bakugou has you flipped onto your back and pinned underneath his muscular frame. 

his warm breath fans across your face making your eyes fall heavy with adoration. “four.” the blonde grunts, swooping down to brush his lips gently across yours, not quite kissing you much to your dismay. “i want four of those snotty little gremlins with you, maybe have the fifth by accident and then we’ll get a big fucking house for them to destroy—“

“f-five kids katsu?” you gasp out your words at katsuki starts to press increasingly harsh kisses to your jawline, settling on your neck while he licks over bites he’d left earlier today. 

bakugou murmurs something about ‘you said as many as i want’ before he’s growling at your hands that find their way into his blonde locks, tugging on them tightly as pleasure overwhelms your senses. 

he hums against your sweet skin, finding his place between your legs at the same time as his thoughts take him away from you. he’d love to see you pregnant, so full of his love and his children.

the movie is long forgotten by now as lust settles in every corner of the room. hands push beneath your shirt, groping and massaging your breasts to pull all sorts of sounds from you. 

bakugou forces a knee between your thighs, finally capturing your lips in a hungry and heated kiss— his tongue slips in your mouth after he pinches your thigh, fighting yours in a passionate dance for dominance. “gonna fuck a shitty little brat into you, yn,” katsuki almost whines as he pulls away from your inviting lips to press your foreheads together. you look gorgeous beneath him, flustered with swollen lips from each of your rough kisses and there’s no doubt in his mind you’re thinking the same about him. “gonna fill you up so good, gonna make pretty babies with you, hah?”

“ka-katsuki!” you can’t help but mewl at his breathless sinful words while you fist at his tank top. everything is hot, burning hot and you grind up into him with a newfound desperation, the friction against his hardening length sending your eyes rolling with ecstasy.. “we’re not even— mmm god, right there— we’re not even married yet!”

“gonna be at some point, why waste time fucking trying? not when i can cum in you and give you one right fucking now—“  bakugou moans heavily into your ear, diving back into a sloppy kiss as he fumbles around with the string of his sweatpants. 

you’re whimpering out for him, pulling the blonde into a lustful trance while you make a move to kick off your underwear when the sound of shattering glass pierces through the bubble of horniness you’ve both created. “shit.”

you both freeze and your matching gazes drop to the floor; a rapidly growing stain of red wine spilling onto the carpet under the coffee table your take out was on. 

the fluffy white rug had been a housewarming gift that katsuki begrudgingly accepted from your old school friend and fellow pro, izuku midoriya— so the sight of the now ruined rug makes you both burst out into harmonious laughter. you’re sure the number one wouldn’t mind. it’d make a great wedding story too.

you focus your eyes back on katsuki, cupping his face as that same love filled smile from earlier returns to your face. ”let’s start trying tomorrow, then?”

“tomorrow it is.” bakugou grins back, dotting your hairline with sweet pecks before cuddling into you.

baby making can wait for now, he supposes, for with another day off— he has all the time and all the love in the world to give to you.

#tteokdoroki #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha fanfic #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha x you #mha #mha fanfic #mha smut #mha fluff #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou headcanons #bakugou smut #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou angst #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you

[americxn]

car sex with colin 0.0

like u guys are partners (in a secret relationship) on their way to interview a witness at their home but reader/colin gets horny and wants a quickie in the car backseat or drivers seat ;) and then them trying to fix themselves up after because they still had to go interview someone and the interviwee is slightly suspicious abt them just having finished and u both play it off HAHAH

Sex Drive

There are so many amazing fics that follow this prompt so I just wanted to mention a few and share idea credits. I would 100% recommend reading their works as they are such amazing writers: @divinerulerluvr @undeadcortez (if you have already written a fic similar to this idea, please let me know and I’ll credit you!)

wordcount: 2.6k warnings: NSFW, masturbation, penetration, car sex/public-ish sex, swearing

“Do you have the address-” the words fell short on your lips as your partner ignited the ignition, one of his hands settling on the back of your seat as his torso twisted, one hand manipulating the wheel with his palm. “Yeah, I do.” He mumbled in concentrated confirmation as he manoeuvred the car backwards, looking over his shoulder before straightening, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the carpark. You swallowed. “Sorry, yeah I have the address.” He confirmed again, clearer this time. “Okay.” You said in quiet response, turning back to stare at the road. You heard Colin shift as he took a glance over at you. “And what’s up with you?” You looked back at him, the view of his pronounced jawline as his head turned back to the road kindling the small spark of sexual excitement that the simple action of him reversing the car had triggered within you. “Have I told you about the reverse thing?” He took a quick, amused glance to you at your words, his lips tugging into a little smirk. “Oh yeah... don’t drool on my leather.”  His playful response made you smirk and you sighed, turning away to look out of the window, your palm rising to cup your chin. “That won’t be the only thing I’m drooling on.”  Colin’s eyes widened as he glanced back over at you, your words catching him completely off guard. “Jesus, y/n, you’re bold.”  “No, I’m wet.” His mouth dropped open slightly at your fast response; he regained his composure quickly, clearing his throat softly as she shifted in his seat, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel.

You laughed softly, your own responses having taken you somewhat by surprise. Colin’s jaw worked as he stole another glance at you. His foot pressed further into the accelerating, the car panting enthusiastically as he spurred the engine on, glancing at the time displayed on the dash. “What are you doing?” You asked with an excited smile as he pushed the car to go slightly faster. “We have twenty five minutes to get to the house, and after those comments I’ll be fucked if I have to wait any longer to have my way with you.” Your smile melted into a smirk as you surveyed his tense shoulders, the way his dark eyes flicked continuously from the road to the small time display above the radio. “I like that energy, Zabel.” You muttered, pushing yourself further up into your seat, your head leaning against the headrest as you admired his side profile, your tongue running softy along your lower lip in anticipation of what was to come.  “What? You’re just going to watch me?” You lifted your head at his sudden statement, looking at him questioningly. “We don’t have much time, baby,” he began in a lilting tone, one of his hands dropping from the wheel and snaking to your thigh. His use of ‘baby’ sent a jolt through you, both of excitement and of the familiar sense of forbidden longing that accompanied your secret relationship. You continued to survey him as his hand began to curve down the inside of your upper thigh, heat building at the apex of your legs as his warm palm travelled closer and closer to your cunt. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours before I can fuck you.” His darkly spoken words sent a shiver through you; Colin wasn’t usually the type to tease verbally, to use his words to coax arousal from you, but when he did, it drove you fucking insane. “Now who’s bold?” You responded weakly, all of your focus narrowing in on his hand as it stilled on the inside of your thigh, his eyes still transfixed on the road ahead as his fingertips brushed against your clothed centre. The single light touch made you weak, your pussy heating from within your clothes, so much so that you were sure that Colin could feel it. “And how do you suppose that I do that?”  “Well I’m busy driving, which is apparently a turn on enough for you. Make yourself moan.” His hand retracted from your thigh with his words, the withdrawal of his warm palm against you registering as a physical loss; his touch fuelled your arousal. You were moving before his hand settled back on the steering wheel, lifting up your hips to pull your leggings down to your thighs. You wasted no time in beginning to work yourself, sliding down in your seat as far as the seatbelt would allow and bringing up your knees, your heels rested on the edge of Colin’s clean leather seat before delving one hand into your panties. Your head fell back as your fingers found contact with your cunt, your fingertips trailing down between your folds to your entrance and to the wetness gathered there, which you collected on your fingers before swirling it around on your clit, your eyes never once leaving Colin’s face as you visualised that it was his fingers pleasing you in place of your own. He stole frequent glances at you as you set a steady pace on your clit, working two of your fingertips against yourself with feverish need, wanting nothing more than for Colin to pull over the car and attend to you himself. The hand that you had gripped into the leather of the car seat reached over to Colin’s own thigh, his eyes flicking down briefly to bore into yours as you ran the tips of your fingers across his clothed leg, brushing against the hardness that awaited your there, straining against the snug material of his work pants. The column of his throat was pronounced as he rested his head against the seat when you settled your palm over his erection, a small noise emanating from the back of his throat as you began to work him through his clothes. You broke the pace and pressure with which you swirled your fingers over your clit to trail them down to your entrance, pushing them inside of yourself with a small relieved groan. Colin’s head snapped to you as you began to slowly ease your fingers in and out of yourself, your teeth biting down harshly on your lower lip. The car slowed, a red light coming into view as the car rolled to a complete stop before it. Colin spared a mere second to wrench the handbrake up before reaching over to undo your seatbelt, his own stretching as he leaned over, taking your hips and spinning you on your seat so that your ass was facing him and your head was propped up at an awkward angle against the bottom on the window. He released you with a glance at the light, which was still red, before reaching for your leggings and tugging them further down your legs, taking your panties with them. You were left breathless, hunched up in your seat with your neck forced upright by the door of the car and your knees almost to your chest, a single bead of your wetness running from your pussy to your ass, your cunt completely exposed to Colin as he straightened, hurriedly putting the car into drive and pulling away just as the light turned green.  Your fingers closed around your ankles and Colin made a harsh turn, his mounting impatience evident in the hard set of his jaw; his impatience only grew when he glanced back at you after straightening the car, your eyes large as you silently pleaded with him to touch you from your awkward position on the seat, your pussy wet and winking as it pulsed, desperate for more attention. With another need-filled glance, Colin lifted one hand from the steering wheel, running the tips of his fingers through the wetness smeared across your cunt before pushing his own digits inside of you.  With his attention back on the road, Colin drove both you and the car, steering your pleasure up a steady incline with his fingers whilst maintaining smooth control of the vehicle. You forced your hips to open wider, pushing your knees outwards and pressing yourself into his fingers, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive clit as you bucked against him. Colin’s own mouth parted in arousal as your small moans began to fill the car, Colin reaching spots within you that your own fingers couldn’t stimulate. His concentration on the road lapsed, the feel of your slick walls clenching in need around his fingers taking the final remnants of his control as he sloppily pulled into the neighbourhood of the resident you were to interview in approximately ten minutes time. Colin was quick to locate the house you were needed at, slowing to drive slightly past the house to the small alleyway between it and its next door neighbour. He spun the wheel, throwing the car into the slim alley, his fingers having maintained a steady, deep thrusting into you, drawing the moans that he was so desperate to hear from your goosebump covered body. You groaned his name as he yanked the handbrake on, not even bothering to take the car out of gear before wrenching the key from the ignition and discarding it on the dashboard. You watched, eyes gleaming with frustrated sexual want as he ripped his seatbelt off his body, clumsily rising to his knees in the confines of the car and hurriedly fumbling with his belt. His fingers never once faltered, curling and twisting within you as he readied himself, pulling his painfully engorged cock from the confines of his pants and alining himself with your entrance. One of his hands slammed into the car door beside his head as the other helped to lead his cock into you, the purple head slowly pushing into your entrance and opening you up fully as he slid all the way in. The two of you groaned simultaneously as he bottom out inside of you, his face hovering above yours, his eyes dark and gleaming with sexual desire. With his first thrust within you, his other hand joined the one above your head, his fingers gripping onto the small ledge of the window as he set his pace hard and rough. From your position, you could feel every inch of him as he withdrew himself, only to slam into you, again and again, each thrust adding to the release beginning to gather along your spine, shutting out every other sense and thought beyond where he met you, touched you. “It’s a shame we don’t have more time.” Colin ground out from above you, his words tight as they squeezed through his gritted teeth. “I could fuck you like this for hours.” You nodded eagerly, your mouth parted in building ecstasy, the car rocking back and forth with the force of Colin’s driving strokes in and out of you.  The relief of finally being able to bury himself into you had Colin’s own release chasing after him, his pleasure building and building, your wide eyes boring into his, the gleam of undiluted sexual gratification shining there doing unspeakable things to his stomach, adding to the tight knot of bliss growing within his lower abdomen.  Colin’s hot breaths caused a thin layer of fog to gather on the window, his fingertips marring the cloud as he repositioned once of his hands on the window, cutting through the condensation and leaving a handprint on the glass. You clenched around him, your inner walls pulsing, begging him for more as your orgasm neared. Colin’s mouth parted, his eyes drifting shut as you reached up, gripping onto the front of his shirt as you toppled over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you in waves of pleasant heat. At your cry of release, Colin fell after you, spilling into you with a deep groan, his upper body crashing down onto you as his arms gave way. Your fingers moved to tangle in the short strand of hair at the nape of his neck, Colin’s face burying into the crook on your shoulder, his breath coming out in hot puffs against your skin as your pussy milked him thoroughly, accepting the thick ropes of cum that he poured into you. He was shaking, you both were, clutching onto one another in the confined space of the car as you brought each other down from your high, the rocking of the car having stopped, replaced by your harsh breathing as you recovered, Colin’s scent potent in his close proximity.

You grimaced as you sat down on the couch in the tidy living room you and Colin now occupied, perching on the edge primly as the woman you now had to interview took her own seat on the opposite couch. The wetness smeared between your thighs was unbelievably distracting, a slick reminder of the pleasure that you were still very much coming down from. You hadn’t had time to clean yourself up and, and you sat, your eyes began to feel heavy with blissful satisfaction.  You glanced over at Colin as he, too, sat, the front of his shirt uncharacteristically ruffled, your earlier grip on it having caused the material to crease. Running your fingers self consciously through your hair once more in a last attempt to smooth any stray strands, you turned back to the woman awaiting questioning. “Sorry for being late.” You apologise, filling the silence of the living room. The woman offered you a small smile, her hands clasped together on top of her legs. “It’s no bother.” She responded pleasantly, taking a glance between you and Colin, at the close proximity with which you had naturally sat beside each other. You shifted under her curious scrutiny, regretting it immediately as your thighs slid against each other uncomfortably. Your cunt was only just cooling off, the trip from the car to his house too short to douse the heat still rippling through your gut. “It is windy outside today?” She asked, a genuine look of question on her face as she beheld the tousled hair that you both sported. You took an awkward glance at Colin, unsure of what to say. “Oh, erm, a little bit.” He answered tensely. You forced the corners of your mouth downwards as a smile strained to curved your lips upwards. “Oh, that’s shame.” The lady mused quietly, taking a glance out of the large bay window that looked out to her front lawn and the street beyond. “I was supposed to be heading outside later on.” You reigned in your growing amusement, glancing with her out of the window; the sky was cloudless, the leaves on the bushes and trees in the front lawn unruffled. Colin grimaced. “Anyway, we just have a few questions we would like to ask you. You’re not in  any trouble or anything, don’t worry.” You explained warmly, eager to change the topic of conversation. She looked at you, taking another glance to your partner before meeting your stare once more. “Of course.” She began. “I won’t keep you too long. It would seem that you perhaps have other things to be getting on with.” You tensed at her words, at the subtle emphasis she applied to the word ‘things’. Beside you, Colin let out a quiet, passing laugh before delving into his first question, the woman’s eyes alight with amusement as she took once last glance at you before directing all of her attention to Colin and the question he had just presented her with.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved (if you want to be added or removed, just let me know <3)

#mare of easttown #mare of easttown hbo #evan peters mare of easttown #mare of easttown fanfiction #colin zabel mare of easttown #colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #colin x reader smut #colin zabel smut #colin zabel x reader smut #evan peters colin zabel #evan peters fandom #evan peters ahs #evan peters smut #evan peters x reader #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters x reader smut #american horror story #ahs #ahs evan peters #ahs fandom

[radicallyred]

Denim

I’ve never written for Loki before and it has been about six years since I last wrote any sort of character x reader fic. 

This was fun. Let me know if you like it. My inbox is open for requests, questions, comments, concerns, accusations and/or threats. 

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: besides smut and some mild cursing, none 

Your back hit the mattress gently, your boyfriend looming over you. 

Your hands move up to cradle Loki’s sharp face, your eyes meeting his stormy blues. Lowering himself so there is an elbow on either side of your face, his long fingers trace the contours of your face. 

“You look absolutely stunning, darling.” He murmurs huskily into the dip between your collarbones, pushing your jacket off before gently sliding a thin strap of your tank top down your shoulder, mouthing hungrily at the naked skin. 

Your hands begin to wander, untucking his dress shirt and beginning to unbutton it, your tongue laving at his neck. Nosing at his face, you successfully get him to turn his head and capture your lips with his own. 

You could kiss Loki all day and never tire of it. His tongue does things that you never knew a tongue could do, his hands wander teasingly, teetering on the edge of torture and pleasure. The weight of his body against yours is always grounding and rewarding whenever your hips roll into each other’s. 

Somewhere in your train of thought, Loki had undone your strapless bra and rolled it down your body, tossing it carelessly to the side. He gently sits you up, your legs falling to either side of his hips, and removes your tank top, leaving you completely naked from the waist up. You take this moment to reconnect your lips and busy yourself with removing his shirt before he growls, biting your bottom lip as he lays you back down. He drags his body down to your chest, peppering kisses across your collarbones, down to swirl his tongue around each of your nipples.

“Ooh, please do that again.” You moan, a hand falling to grip his hair. Loki just smirks, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“No no. Just a stop.” You groan, head falling back. You wait for the expectant touch of his fingers at your waistline, but feel nothing. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking questioningly at Loki. 

He’s staring at your denim shorts with a confused frown on his face. You mirror the emotion as your look down at the offending article. You’re wearing a pair of dark cutoffs with a button-fly that accentuates both your ass and the curve of your hips—the whole reason you wore them to your date with the God in the first place—when realization hits you. 

The button-fly. 

Looking down, Loki has successfully popped the top two buttons of your shorts and was seemingly stuck on the next one, a cute little v forming between his eyebrows as he tugged at the fabric. 

“Need a little help there?” You ask around a chuckle. 

“Why do you have so many buttons?” He quips, meeting your eyes. “Do you realize how inconvenient this is for me? I could be devouring you right now but here I am battling with denim.” You huff out a laugh and hook your legs around his thighs so you can flip him over and sit on his hips. 

“Now you know how it feels when you wear leather pants and your armor.” You murmur, fingers popping each button slowly, teasing the God beneath you. 

“I thought you like it when I wear leather,” Loki huffs impatiently, moving his hands to rest on your hips, his thumbs dipping into the growing opening of your shorts. 

“Oh, I do.” You assure him, rising just enough to shimmy your shorts down to your ass, wrapping your arms around his neck to encourage him to flip you. “Just takes forever to get to the good part.” He flips you easily, ridding you of your shorts and panties in the process. He takes your lips in a bruising kiss again, hands dipping lower to explore your nakedness. With no preamble, two long fingers enter your folds, punching a surprised moan from your lips. 

“L-Loki,” you moan, hands scrambling to reach the button of his pants, a task proving to be difficult as Loki adds his thumb to your clit and works a dark bite into the expanse between your neck and shoulder. Succeeding, finally, in your task, you push his pants down to his thighs with your hands before lifting your legs to push them the rest of the way down. He chuckles against your jaw now, licking at it as he kicks them to the side. 

You can really feel how aroused he is now. Though his impressive length is still concealed by gray briefs, it is not any less daunting where he’s grinding it into your hip. 

“Loki please,” you whimper against his lips, hips jumping at his ministrations. “C’mon, please, I need you.” Loki growls against your throat, increasing the speed of his fingers. It’s impossible not to hold on any longer as his lips find that sensitive spot behind your ear, nipping it as he breathes,

“You have me.” 

You tip over the edge, eyes screwed shut and breath coming in uneven pants. His fingers have stilled inside you, but his thumb is still moving in teasing circles on your clitoris. 

You whine, using one hand to push his hand away from your pelvis. He grins wolfishly and drags his finger to his lips, tongue swirling around the digits, his pupils dilating at your taste. 

“You, my love, are most delicious.” He rasps, releasing his fingers with a satisfying pop. 

Your head tilts back to look at Loki better, where he sits on his haunches, one hand still splayed on your lower stomach like he’s afraid you will disappear if he isn’t touching you. You lay back, reaching your hands to dip into the waistband of his underwear. 

“Glad you got a snack. Are you going to fuck me or...?” Loki’s eyes darken as you slip your hand into his briefs to grip his erection, losing your train of thought. Loki surprises you by shucking off his underwear and lining his cock up with your entrance. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Loki huffs against your lips as he slides into the hilt. He drags his lips trailing up your jaw, breath ghosting over your cheekbones. 

“You want me to ravish you? Drive into you hard?” His hips thrust hard at the last word, a deep moan escapes his mouth when your hands scramble for purchase in his hair and pull just as he slams forward. 

“Or do you want me to take my time? Drag out each little moan and whimper that leaves your pretty little mouth?” He is moving tantalizingly slow now, his hot breath coming in pants against your cheek. “I have no problem staying here all day—oh, Norns— I have no problem drawing you close to the edge, never letting you tumble over it.” 

He picks his thrusts back up when you clench around his cock. You are rendered speechless as he hits that spot deep inside of you. 

“Tell me what you want.” He huffs against your lips. You hook your feet around his waist, heels digging into his firm ass. 

“Take me now, love me later.” You say driving your hips to meet his thrusts. Loki growls and goes absolutely feral, teeth digging into your shoulder. He ruts into you with enough force that you can hear the headboard slam into the wall with each thrust. Your nails dig into Loki’s muscular back, leaving raised marks in their wake. He leans his mouth down to suck at one of your nipples, effectively making your back arch. 

“Say my name.” He gasps. 

“Loki.” You moan, sneaking a hand down to rub at your clit. 

“Say it again.” He is thrusting with abandonment now, no meaningful rhythm as he chases his orgasm. 

“Loki!” You yell. He buries his face in your neck as his orgasm rushes through him, spilling hotly into you. He takes a moment to recover, still twitching inside of you, before he slides out and knocks your hand away. He says nothing, just gives you a devilish grin before attaching those sinful lips to your most sensitive part. 

“Oh shit!” You cry, jumping at the suddenness of his actions. Your fingers have once again found their way to his hair, tugging gently as he mouths at your sex. His tongue sliding over your clit, down to your opening, circling it a few times before it finally dives in. He repeats this only three times before you clench your thighs around his head and come hard, pussy throbbing around Loki’s wet tongue. 

He cleans you up—with his tongue, of course— and slides up your body to rest on your chest. He’s still laying on his stomach, arms folded beneath his chin, an amused gleam in his eyes. You can still feel his hardness, undoubtedly ready for another round, but neither of you pay any mind. You pet at his hair soothingly, dragging your manicured fingers through his silky, raven locks. 

He shifts up suddenly, settling more between your knees. 

“I love you.” He says reverently, pressing a barely there kiss to the column of your throat before he drops to your side, tugging you into his embrace. 

“And I love you,” You say nuzzling into his chest, inhaling deeply his incredible scent. It is quiet, peaceful, for a moment as Loki runs fingers up your arm before curling them into your hair. 

“For the record,” He hums. “I can both take you and love you at the same time. These things are not mutually exclusive.” You chuff, rolling so you are face to face. 

“I know. Wanna know what you can’t do?” His eyebrows quirk in confusion. 

“What, pray tell, would that be?” You grin at the God beneath you and press a kiss to his pouting lips. 

“Take off denim shorts.” Your laughter drowns out his groan of dissent. 

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #i love one (1) man #smut #loki imagine #loki (mcu) #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #i forgot how to tag #loki deserves to be happy

[mandoalorian]

For some reason I really need to read Maxwell fucking reader in their luxurious walk in closet that’s basically a room of fuckable surfaces.

Blinding Lights [Maxwell Lord x F! Reader] SMUT

Warnings: 18+ smut, f recieving oral, fingering (guys it’s so intense i’m obsessed okay), cunningless, squirting, over stimulation, orgasm denial,  unprotected p in v,  pre-established relationship, soft Max but rough sex.

Word count: 3100>

Author’s Note: This is honestly one of my favourite smuts I’ve written in a long time. I’m proud of the detail (is that weird?) and I just hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, reblogs are appreciated. <3

Masterlist

Maxwell’s mouth was insistent, that much wasn’t a surprise. He always kissed you as if it was out of desperation. Hot and passionate -- like it might be his last chance kissing you forever. He savoured every moment, the taste of your tongue and the way your soft lips fit perfectly against his. You could faintly taste the vanilla lip balm he was wearing and couldn’t contain the wanton moan that escaped your throat when his big hands began caressing your body. They finally settled on your hips, and he dug his ring glad fingers into the soft skin there, offering you a playful squeeze.

When you squirmed beneath him, he chuckled, feeling a familiar heat flood his body. He nudged the curve of his nose against yours when you broke away from the kiss, but once he was satisfied that you had caught your breath, his lips came crashing down onto yours again. Maxwell took a few steps forward, pushing you into his walk-in closet and propping you against one of the shelves. He’d thought about this -- a lot.

You pulled away from his mouth once more and looked around, taking a second to process that you were no longer in his bedroom, but in his walk-in closet. It was enormous, and absolutely extensive in size. There was no reason, absolutely no reason whatsoever, for Maxwell to have this many power suits. Each one had been pressed and ironed perfectly before getting hung up. It was colour coordinated, but make no mistake, it looked like a rainbow. Racks on racks of shirts and ties and pocket squares, waistcoats, belts and suspenders, a display of cufflinks -- it honestly looked like a department store.

“Are you okay?” Maxwell asked, resting his forehead against yours. 

You fixed your gaze back onto his lust blown brown eyes and smiled. “I’m perfect,” you reassured him, and your heart swelled with joy as you watched his face light up. “I can’t believe we’ve been together for a year and I’ve never seen your closet.”

Maxwell dramatically cleared the shelf behind you of his shoes and knocked them all the ground. It didn’t go quite as smoothly as he imagined. It was something he’d seen in a movie once. He cleared his throat before finally speaking.

“Yeah,” he shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. So you hadn’t seen his closet… so what? He’d shown you everything else. You’d literally travelled the world with him -- and you were fixating on the fact you’ve never seen his closet. To him, it wasn’t a big deal. But to you, it just showed that your boyfriend still somehow managed to be an enigma. You weren’t mad or upset, if anything, you found it endearing. In a way, it was nice that you were still finding things out about Max, even though you’d already known him for so long. “But I’ve wanted to fuck you in here since I first brought you home.” Maxwell grumbled in admittance, leaning in to pepper kisses along your neck and down your collarbone.

He needily tugged on the hem of your dress, making it clear that he wanted it gone. You pulled the thin material over your head and dropped it to the ground.

“So perfect,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to caress as his chaste kisses deepened down to the valley of your breasts. You felt his free hand snake behind you as he fiddled with the clasp that held your bra together. “May I?”

“Yes,” you breathed out needily, and within a second, your bra was gone. Now just in your panties, you nodded in the direction of your boyfriend. “Your turn.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes but couldn’t escape his grin as excitement filled him. You loved seeing him smile. Not that fake, forced television smile -- but his real, genuine smile. You knew it was real because he had this little dimple in the left of his cheek that always popped out. You felt so lucky that you were one of the only ones that got to see him like this. You were one of the only people who could make him smile -- and make his heart blossom with so much love and adoration. To Maxwell, you were truly a figment of perfection. He was an esteemed, intimidating businessman. But you were like an angel; soft and delicate. You made him a better person without even trying.

It took him a little longer to undress -- discarding the jacket, and then the tie, and then his suspenders, and then unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. The second he was shirtless, you did what you always did. You reached out and wrapped your arms around him, relishing in the heat of his broad and tan chest. You nuzzled your head into him and he began to softly smooth out your hair.

“I love you so much.” he uttered softly, pressing a kiss into your hair. His stomach erupted into butterflies when he felt you smile against his skin.

“I love you too.” you sighed into admittance.

When you pulled away, he cupped your face and his thumb brushed the height of your cheekbone. You were half expecting another deep kiss, but his lips barely brushed against yours.

“Get up.” He ordered, pointing at the shelf he’d just cleared of his shoes. You turned around in surprise but followed his demand, hopping up and sitting on the shelf. Your feet were dangling off the edge. You were only a few inches from the ground, but it truly felt like you were sitting on a cloud.

He adored your body and he made sure you knew it. He spent a few minutes gawking, and if it was anyone else, you would’ve felt uncomfortable. But you were so madly in love with Max Lord, you let him look for as long as he wanted. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to get shirtless, as he had an air of insecurity about his body, but the two of you trusted each other one hundred percent and being around Max (and Max being around you) gave you both a significant boost of confidence. 

“You’re so amazing.” Max breathed out, shaking his head incredulously and clasping his hands together in awe. It almost looked like he was praying.

You tossed your head back and Max felt his cock jump in his tailored pants at the way you exposed the column of your neck, just for him. “Stop,” you groaned. You were glad your head was thrown back so Max couldn’t see the flush of heat that crossed your cheeks. “You always say that.”

“But it’s true!” he exclaimed before taking a step forward and bringing his hand to your neck, giving it an experimental squeeze. 

“Max please,” you whimpered, crossing your legs together as you felt the arousal pool in your panties.

“Please what?” he asked, his warm breath fanning over your ear lobe.

“You know.” you drawled out as his hand cradled your breast again. He dropped his hand down to your stomach and let it linger just above the hem of your lace panties.

“I want you to say it.” he hissed, making your cunt clench around nothing. Gods -- you needed him. 

“I want you to fuck me.” You gasped out, and a wicked smirk crossed Max’s lips. His eyes were almost black at this point, and his dark blonde hair that was once perfectly styled, was now disheveled, with little waves falling out of place.

A small hum of acknowledgement left his lips as he rubbed his middle finger and index finger over the material of your panties. Max grunted at the feel of your clit through the lace material.

“You’re already so wet and I’ve barely even touched you,” Max praised, bringing his finger up to the bright closet lights and revelling in how your arousal glistened on his digit.

You needily rubbed your knee against his erection and he groaned, hating how confined he felt in the fitted suit pants. You loved to hear him. The noises he made during sex were sweet like honey and they turned you on so much. “I have to taste you.” Max announced finally, dropping to his knees and pulling your panties down.

He threw them haphazardly to the floor, in a puddle amongst yours and his other garments of discarded clothes. Just the vision of him on his knees between your legs was enough to drive you crazy. It was like he was worshipping you. Max softly began to palm at your knees as he spread you open. He leaned in, pressing hot, wet kisses into the softness of your inner thighs where it felt like cream.

The curve of his nose nudged against your clit and you tried holding back a cry as a jolt of pleasure ran through your core. He was taking his time, making you wait -- ever the tease. You brought your hands down to the back of his head and let your fingers tangle in his soft locks of hair. You gently pushed his face further into your core, hoping he’d get the message.

It was like he read your mind. He licked a hot stripe between your folds and the simple movement had you already seeing stars. You bundled his hair up into a fist and waited for him to lap at you again. Though this time, he changed his technique. He blessed you with short and fast kitten licks, and everytime he skillfully maneuvered his tongue over your bundle of nerves, you felt yourself near climax.

“Oh Max,” you moaned, not even realising the way your legs had clamped around his head. The wet noises that echoed through the confines of the box shaped closet were obscene, and you might have once been embarrassed, but quite frankly, in this moment, you had other things on your mind.

The tip of his tongue began to flick in and out your entrance and you let go of his hair at the sudden intrusion. You cried out, having no reason to care about how loud you were being. It was just you and him. “Oh fuck Max.” 

His tongue increased speed, faster and faster, and it felt like your body was about to fall off a cliff and into a tingling sea of ecstasy. But he suddenly pulled off you when he sensed how close you were, denying you of an orgasm and leaving you a heaving panting mess. 

You wanted to smack him. You wanted to get your revenge. How could he do this? You were so close. You were so close to cumming, literally just from his tongue. When you finally gained the energy to open your eyes, you’d mentally prepared yourself to say something but you were greeted with the image of Max and his pretty puppy dog eyes blinking up at you. And immediately all your thoughts were lost. His lips were shining with your wetness and curled up into a smile.

“You know I’m just preparing you for what’s to come, right?” He quizzed, raising his eyebrows. Okay, he had a point.

“Could’a still let me cum.” you grumbled, pouting your lips to sign your disapproval of the unfair nature of his game.

Max furrowed his eyebrows together and frowned. “Baby, what have I taught you?” He asked, and when you didn’t answer, he sighed. “To be patient.”

His gaze didn’t leave yours once, but still, he managed to bring his thick, ring clad finger back down to your core and push it deep inside of you. He didn’t take it slow, like the softness in his eyes might’ve implied. He thrusted his index finger as deep as he could and immediately located the special sweet spot inside of you -- the one he had memorised so carefully. 

Instead of adopting his usual routine, he did something that took you by surprise. He didn’t remove his finger, it wasn’t an ‘in-and-out’ type of thing. He scraped the tip of the digit against your g-spot, his finger curling inside of you as he did so.  It was ethereal. You’d truly never felt an intensity quite like it, and he wouldn’t stop. It was rapid and hard and the sensation you felt was blinding. The pleasure burned through your body like wildfire, and it didn’t take long at all before you had completely submitted to him. You couldn’t take anything in, you couldn’t process his actions anymore, it was too overwhelming. Overbearing too, but in the best way imaginable. He was stimulating you persistently, and no matter how much your thighs shaked or your cunt clenched around his finger, he just kept going. 

Somewhere down the line, your eyes had snapped shut.

“Look at me,” Maxwell growled. You whimpered and squirmed, pretending like you didn’t hear him. To be fair, his voice was just an echo in the background, your feelings of how good this felt were at the forefront of your mind and Gods, why had he never tried this before? “Look at me or I stop.” He warned.

You didn’t know if he’d actually stop, but you knew for a fact you didn’t want to risk it. So it took all your might, but you managed to open your eyes, your gaze pleading with him, begging him to keep going.

And he did.

Had you cum yet? Surely you had. It felt like you’d cum a thousand times over, your body aching and tired. When he brought the thumb of his free hand to your clit and began to circle it, you wanted to scream. Maybe you did, you didn’t even know anymore. You couldn’t see clearly, everything was just like white noise.

That was it. That was the final straw. The lower portion of your body was a spasming mess and you had completely lost all focus. There was no going back. Until, his finger doubled out of you, lightning fast, as bolts of pleasure zapped through your body.

“Holy shit!” Max hissed, his eyes wide as he took in the sight before him.

You still weren’t entirely sure what was going on, until you felt… wet? Wetter than before. Significantly wetter than before. 

“Oh fuck baby,” Max whispered, and you managed to catch a blurred glimpse of his face before he plunged his finger back inside of you. His face looked wet too. “You’re perfect. So perfect.” he praised.

“Wh-- what-- wh--” you could barely even find words as he continued to finger you. Despite his actions being slow this time, the overstimulation was killing.

“You squirted, princess.” Max smiled proudly, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“I-- what-- I did-- what--” You were still in disbelief. So that’s… that’s what that was. It felt like a molten hot tornado ripping through your body -- and you’d never felt anything like it before but there wasn’t a chance you’d trade the feeling for the world.  “I’ve never done that before.” you confessed, relishing in your post-orgasm haze.

“I’m glad I could make you do it then.” Max said before removing his finger and placing it on his tongue, moaning at the taste of you.

He gave you about a minute as you came down from your high, and as you did so, he unbuckled his belt, pulled it through the loops of his pants and got completely naked in front of you. You were still on cloud nine when you felt the bulbous tip of his cock press against your core.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Max whispered, leaning over your body and nibbling at the skin of your neck. “Just like you wanted, okay? And I’m not going to be gentle.”

Well, at least he warned you.

He thrusted deep inside of you, his movements relentless. You clenched around him, desperate to milk him for all he had. It was amazing, the feeling of every ridge and vein of his cock rub against your walls. He was going to make you cum again, you were sure of it, and you knew it was going to be soon.

The way his length throbbed and twitched inside of you -- you knew he was close too. You were so insanely wet from squirting, you could even feel your juices drip down the curve of your ass. You couldn’t imagine the mess you made, probably sitting in a puddle of your own arousal right now. 

You wished the moment would last forever, but he rested his head in the crook between your neck and shoulder and bit down on you. “Gonna cum.” he gasped, fucking you even harder. Faster. Deeper. You were a shaking mess.

“Cum inside of me, Maxie.” you begged, tugging on his locks of hair and giving him just enough motivation to let go.

“Almost there.” He groaned before gasping out as his salty seed spurted inside of you, roping your walls filling you up.

He stayed inside of you until he softened, hugging you tight and kissing you softly. “I love you so much, so so much.” He’d confess in between kisses. “Never leave me. Please never leave me. I love you too much.”

You could feel his heartbeat against your own as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I’m never leaving you Maxie, I promise.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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