#the body razor i have just sucks

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + dressing you in white

character: alastor warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, heavy pet/master dynamic, toxic relationship (condescension), blood + blood eating, slight gore, fem!reader words: 1.8k

alastor exclusively dresses you, his precious little pet, in white—white linen dresses, white silk pjs, white cotton undies—and you’ve finally figured out why.

“Alright, uh,” Charlie’s finger flicks the worn cardboard spinner in her hands, watching as the arrow lands on a splotch of colour. “Right hand, red!”

You’re in the parlour when it happens—a sudden, sharp pain that sears through your ribs as you bend over, a reactive hiss spit from between gritted teeth. 

“Whats’a matter?” Angel teases, panting slightly. “Too short to reach your colour?” 

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Angel’s long limbs easily twist to obey the most recent order, both of his right hands finding red circles on the crinkled plastic mat.

“No, I just—”

“Holy shit!” his gasp cuts you off, all amusement eradicated from his face, dissolved by concerned shock. “You’re bleeding!” 

“What?” 

Glimpsing down at your body, your eyes are drawn toward the rapidly developing blot of scarlet, steadily seeping through white linen—a gruesome petal, irregular edges spreading, slow but ceaseless, eating away at the fabric.

A gurgle of disquiet sounds from the couch, voices tangling together, dulled to your ears as your gaze finds your Master’s. 

But he doesn’t meet your stare. 

Unblinking crimson eyes are focused on the flowering patch of blood, beginning to mottle as specks bloom around it. His chest rises and falls with even little huffs of air, ebony pupils gnawing at his irises as they devour the sight, his fingers twitching on his knee. Your gaze drifts back to the smeared blemish, the softest whimper dripping from your lips.

It’s beautiful. 

Alastor was right; your blood does look ravishing against the crisp bright fabric—stark but artful, a miniature abstract piece being painted in real time as the substance transudes the linen, created by your body and his, together. 

Now you understand; there is a reason why Alastor always dresses you in white. Especially when the abrasions he leaves have a nasty tendency to split and spill out. 

Entranced, your fingers press around the sensitive flesh, feeling the open wound hollowed by your dress and staining your skin with a glittering crimson, a sharp breath sucked through the gaps of your teeth, flashes of speared agony radiating through the surrounding flesh.

Your sound of pain seems to snap Alastor from his revere, blinking twice as he comes back to himself, smile stretching wider with something sinister, worming between razored teeth.

“All right,” Alastor’s saying as he stands from the couch, bravado ringing strong and clear and firm over the chatter. “I’ll take care of this.” 

“Are you sure? That looks, uh—”

“Why is she bleeding in the first place?” 

“Alastor, maybe we should—”

“Come, pet.” Alastor disregards the chorus of concerned comments without sparing them a glance, holding an arm out to you in invitation.

Then you’re scampering to his side, instant, instinctive, allowing him to curve around you protectively, guiding you away from a collection of worried faces with a palm plastered over the injury. 

“I told you not to play,” Alastor admonishes in a singsong while he guides you through the threshold of his bedroom

Leaning into him, you nestle your cheek against his ribs, catlike, hiding the blurry disappointment nipping at your eyes.

“But I wanted to.” 

“You should’ve known better,” he chides, but his voice is tender, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder as he ushers you into his bathroom, depositing you on the rim of the clawfoot tub. “Your injuries are not fully healed yet.” 

Your injuries are never fully healed, you want to point out. He is constantly engraving new cuts, scrapes, slashes, bites into you; there is never a moment where your body is not stained with Alastor in some way.

“I thought they’d be okay,” you say instead, forehead scrunched in petulance. 

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Who knew a game of Twister could be so strenuous,” you mutter to yourself, bottom lip wavering on the edge of a pout. 

He snorts out a titter, mean and scoffing as his fingers pick through the first aid kit. “For such a smart little girl, you can be really stupid sometimes, can’t you?”

“What?”

But he refuses to elaborate, continuing on as if you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Clearly, Master cannot allow you to make decisions for yourself,” he teases, but his tone holds a twinge of sincerity, a vow of certainty. 

This is the last time you’ll be making a decision on your own for a long time. 

“Arms up.” 

Immediately, you comply, arms held straight over your head, Alastor’s hands curling in the hem of your dress and pulling it from your body in one swift, fluid motion. 

It stings, the linen of the dress ripped harshly from the steadily weeping wound it had been clinging to, a yelp cracking in your throat. 

A halfhearted hush falls from your Master’s lips as he carefully drapes the soiled dress over the rim of the tub, taking a moment to admire the stain. A finger traces around the blotch almost affectionately, a tender sigh exhaled out his nose. Then his palms are finding your legs, pushing them apart and sinking to his knees, wedging himself between your spread thighs. 

“All right, let Master see,” he murmurs, shoulders hunched a little as he becomes eye level with the gash, your spine straightening to present the tear to him. 

Hesitant fingers prod at the surrounding flesh, now smeared with dried blood, inspecting the damage. 

“You ripped open every single stitch,” Alastor chuckles quietly, his fingers tugging at the bordering skin and watching with macabre awe as the wound gapes open beneath the pressure, a thick torrent of blood oozing out. 

A whine that sounds suspiciously close to his title sticks in your throat, half-stifled by your clenched teeth, and he looks up at you, sadistic amusement glimmering in his eyes. 

“Does that hurt, sweetheart?” His fingertips press down on the tender flesh, now slick with blood, and shove together, completely sealing the wound, another cascade of crimson spilling past the seam. 

“Master!” you cry out, fingers clamping over his shoulders to steady yourself, nails scraping against cotton. 

 The force of his touch increases, claws nearly sinking into the torn slash. “Answer my question.”

“Yes!” you choke out, head nodding in quick little motions. “Yes, it hurts.” 

A soft hum vibrates at the back of his throat, sharp teeth hidden behind a wide, close-lipped smile. Leaning forward, he plants his tarnished hands on your thighs for stability, then runs his nose along the top of the cut, inhaling one deep breath, his entire ribcage expanding as his chest swells with it. 

He stops, holds the scent in his lungs for a moment, lets it ferment into something sick and foul, lets it steep in the tissues and infuses them with you, before finally exhaling, the rush of air frigid against the bleeding gash.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into the blood. “So fucking delicious.”

Tongue unfurling from his mouth, he traces, slow and cautious, around the edges of the wound with the tip, turning rusted blood watery and faded, grotesque streaks painted across your flesh. A noise claws at his throat, desperate to get out as he shoves it back down, tongue flattening over the slit and dragging, measured and meticulous, slick muscle soaking up the percolating blood.

“Alastor,” you nearly moan, dainty fingers curling around his antlers, the sudden touch evoking a growl from deep within his chest. 

“Let your Owner clean it,” he spits against the injury, lips brushing it again, voice muffled by your skin. 

And so, you do—because you’re nothing if not an obedient little pet girlfriend for your Owner, back arching as you press your ribs into his mouth, offering yourself up to him.

He laves over the laceration three more times, glazing it in a protective layer of his saliva, glimmering in the light with each of your shallow breaths. 

“Better,” he breathes, the word nothing more than a wisp of air against the wet cut, chills skittering across your flesh. 

“Th-Thank you, Master,” you whisper, fingers tugging on his antlers a little, desperate to get him closer. “I—It felt nice.” 

Crimson eyes flick up, his gaze veiled by heavy lids as he laps at his lips, cleaning them of excess blood, some of it streaked along his chin. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful he looks coloured in strokes of you. 

Hips twitching a little, your thighs tense around his torso, and he looks down again, eyes honing in on the drenched lace between your legs, panties molding to your cunt and accentuating every dip, every bump, every contour. 

He chuckles at the sight—something dark, something decadent, something demeaning melting on his tongue. 

“Well,” he pants softly to himself, pride tweaking the edges of his smile. “Would you look at that.” 

A finger traces the outline of your cunt—over your hood, along your lips, circling your hole and just barely pressing into it, watching with a morbid fascination the way it flutters against his finger, delicate material dipping, trying to siphon his finger into you.

“You would like that, you nasty little girl.” 

But he’s aroused, too, his cock straining eagerly against his trousers, a direct result of your sweet blood still tinging his tongue, your precious yelps of pain still ringing in his ears. Saliva pools in the dips of your mouth as you stare at it, thighs flexing on either side of him again, another gush of warmth flooding the apex of your legs. 

“Master, you’re—” you begin in a stringy, needy whine, swallowing thickly. “You—You’re…Can we…” 

“Can we what?” 

A knuckle finds your chin, drawing your eyes back to his, a thumb gripping the point, inhibiting you from fleeing his invasive stare. 

“Come now, it’s rude not to finish your sentence.” 

Pricks of embarrassment erupt across your face, eyes teetering on a wince as you force the stubborn words from your tongue, question trembling.

“Can we fuck?” 

Crimson searches your face, pupils pulsing with a vile sort of voracity, consuming his irises bit by bit as he contemplates. His gaze is cutting, slicing into you as it torturously pulls apart your features and examines them one by one. 

And you—you let him, open and willing and vulnerable and raw as you bear your soul to him, as you rip yourself open for him, as your fingers dig through meat and blood and bone to get to your core, offering it to him wholeheartedly. 

“Perhaps,” he finally responds, reaching for his surgical needle and thread. “I’m going to re-stitch this now,” he tells you, voice a touch huskier than before. “If you are well behaved as I tend to the wound—no squirming, no complaining—I might just give you what you want.” 

His stare holds your own, an eyebrow raising, imbued with inquiry. 

Are you ready to play? 

Oh, he isn’t going to make it easy for you, but you’re up for the challenge. 

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #tw:blood

[astaroth1357]

So. As something of a connoisseur of depictions of the 7 Deadly Sins in media, I was just mulling over FMAB and thought, “I don’t know if anyone as crossed this over with OM before, but that would actually be kinda fire though.”

Like, imagine each of the brothers with the destructive powers of their respective Homunculi.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer coming off as the most normal at first, until MC catches how his shadow bends and curves to avoid harsh light. They swear they sometimes hear him chuckling in the dark corners of the House, but they never actually find him anything there when they check. Red eyes reveal themselves in unlit rooms and follow them through the halls, all the while they keep wondering how he always seems to know where they are whenever he's away…

Mammon hardening his skin to be tougher than diamond, then using it to reinforce his claws and smoothly cut a perfect circle into glass display case. Him letting himself get punched when things don’t matter, but instantly hardening his cheek to break the assailant's hand whenever he starts getting serious. Or literally using his body to protect MC from harm as their first man and loyal shield.

Leviathan having a MASSIVE aquatic beast form that he shoves into a normal sized body, making him feel even more distant to others. Using transformations to regularly make himself look like his favorite anime characters/idols since he can’t stand the thought of looking at his true form. Yet, he still has that conservation of mass going, so he can simultaneously look like a 12 year-old girl and kick a car down the street like a soccerball.

Satan using his gifted sight to become an absolute force of nature. Not just a mere brute, but a sophisticated and effective killing machine with the wit and reflexes to mow down entire armies before breaking a sweat. Never blinded by fury, but harnessing his rage behind every inescapable strike. Him silently vowing that any threat to MC or his family will barely get to finish a thought before he's cut them down with precision and grace.

Asmodeus mostly using his extending nails for glorious manicures, but not being afraid to pierce the heart or lungs of anyone he doesn’t much like. He hears an incubus talking shit from a few tables down and stabs a hole through the jerk's skull while never looking away from his milkshake. His fights with Mammon getting 1000 times more destructive as his razor sharp claws bounce off his brother's skin and dig into the walls and furniture. The only thing he hates about them are how long it takes to scrub the blood off his nails afterwards.

*silently contemplates the possibility of Beel ripping himself in half to reveal a nightmarish second “stomach” capable of sucking anything into a blood-filled pocket dimension of which there is no light, hope, or escape* … Okay, moving on.

And of course, for those unaware FMAB Sloth could run at like the speed of sound which was threatening because he was also a behemoth. However, Belphie probably weights 125 pounds when wet, so… I admittedly get a giggle at the idea of him giving Lucifer a speed-of-light drop kick from across the House. That is probably all he would use it for, too. Him just getting those horns out and going into ramming speed… What a menace

Bonus: Wonder what kind of alchemist Solomon would be? 🤔

#speedster belphie sounds so goofy #you actually expect him to run?? please #and i would kill to see satan take on a tank with just a sword #AND WIN #ill get my attraction to dangerous people #checked out eventually #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me headcanons #obey me belphegor #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemis brotherhood #obey me what ifs #obey me crossover

[heizlut]

Breeding kink with Razor

this is so fitting for him, i love it! i’m adjusting his speech pattern slightly just so it flows a little better, hope you don’t mind❤️

Instincts

cw: public sex, breeding, biting/marking, ovulation, mentions of pregnancy

tags: switch fem!reader, switch!razor, he’s literally 18 so scroll away if you have an issue xoxo💋

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎

You and Razor had a bit of an odd relationship. He came across you months ago, spying behind a tree in Wolvendom when you made your first appearance there. He was wary of you, not sure if you were friendly or there to hunt the wolves he called family. Once he saw you were only there for the wolfhook each time you came, he started to gain the courage to get closer.

In truth, you had started going there because you had heard about him through the Knights of Favonius and wanted to see him for yourself. You knew he was watching, but you didn't want to startle him, so each time you came you only gathered some wolfhook and went on your way. Each day was the same routine, until one day he approached you, still a little wary of you, "...Nice?"

Those were his first words to you. Your eyes landed on him and you smiled brightly, "I am." You were captured by the way he looked; toned muscles, scars across his body and face, long thick silver hair, and crimson eyes. He was better than you had imagined, even if his manner of speech was a little strange. After letting Razor smell your neck, he smiled at you telling you that you smelled like a flower.

Every quirk he had was so cute to you. Weeks passed and each day you would visit Razor, getting to know each other and he grew to trust you immensely. You even had been helping him speak in more proper sentences, although that was still a work in progress. You would be a fool to miss the way his gaze lingered on you and the way he would get as close to you as he could without outright being on top of you.

You looked to him, only to see Razor had already been staring at you. He tilted his head a little as you studied each other in silence. You were the first one to break it, "Do you want to be with me?" The look of confusion on his face made you giggle, "Am with you now, no?" How cute and innocent he was... You shook your head still laughing, "I mean romantically."

Razor's eyebrows scrunched as he repeated the word back to you, clearly unsure of what it meant. You didn't think words would help you out with this, so you reached up and turned his face to yours, pressing a kiss to his lips. He knew what you meant now as he melted into the kiss. Ever since then, you two were inseparable. Which bring us to the present.

The sun was setting, low in the sky, when you made your way to your usual spot. Before you could even call out to him, Razor pounced on you, knocking you both to the ground and making you squeal, "Razor wha-" Your words are cut off when you feel something hard press against your core and his nose lightly grazing your skin as he takes in your scent, "You smell...Different. Good..."

Your cheeks immediately heat up. You were ovulating and he could smell it. Did he even know what that meant? Razor's nose trails down your body til it reaches your cunt, his nose pressing against your clothed clit, making you suck in a breath. He nudges it again, then his eyes flick up to yours, "Here. New good smell... I want more." He doesn't wait for your response before he starts tugging down your pants.

"Razor wait! We're outside... What if someone comes?", your voice came out a little breathy, feeling an aching need at your center. Razor tilts his head, "Why care? No one comes." He was right. People usually avoided coming to Wolvendom. Besides, you were more needy and sensitive than usual because of your ovulation. You just wanted to be filled. You end up lifting your hips slightly to help Razor who continued to tug at your pants.

The warm breeze brushing against your exposed pussy made your scent even more potent to him. Razor immediately begins lapping at your cunt, drawing a sweet moan from within you. The way his tongue circled your clit and lapped at your arousal made you tug his hair. He practically growls when you do so, not wanting to separate himself from something so new and delicious, so he latches on to it. Razor’s lips suck your clit into his mouth while his tongue continues it’s lashings. Your head falls back against the soft grass as you come undone on his tongue.

The taste was even more divine than it smelled, making him continue and overstimulate you. Your legs shake hard and you tug his hair hard with a soft cry of his name. Razor glances up at you curiously but annoyed you wanted to pull him from this. His mouth open and tongue still against your clit. “Come here…” your voice is shaky as you try to get him to listen. Thankfully, he finally does, crawling up and caging you in with his body, “Why? Wasn’t finished…” You roll your hips up making your bare cunt grind against his bulge, “I want you inside me.”

Razor lets out a deep groan as you grind up into him, “What in where? Help..” You knew he was legitimately clueless but him asking you to be so specific sparked something inside of you. It turned you on. “I need your cock in my pussy. Fill me up. Breed me.” Those last two words did it. Oh he knew what that meant alright. Razor fumbles with his pants, wanting to free his throbbing length. You almost laugh at how hard he’s trying and you take over. Catching him off guard, you roll the both of you over, you now caging him in. You smirk when he looks up at you with surprise, “Let me do it.”

Razor almost pouts but stops the minute your hand wraps around his cock, his eyes goes wide at the new sensation and at a loss for words. He has so many questions but they’d have to wait because now your were slowly sinking yourself down onto his dick. He grips onto your hips as though you would disappear from him any second and his eyes almost roll back, “Good…. So good…”

Once you were fully seated on top of him, you begin to move slowly. You grind against him and then begin to move yourself, letting his cock drag in and out of your walls at a brutally slow pace. Every time his cock went back in to the hilt, Razor felt he was going insane. So much so that now he flipped the position yet again, leaning down to lick at your neck, and he growls, “Too slow.” Before you can even ask what he means, he begins thrusting inside your tight wet cunt as if this would be the first and last time he ever got to fuck you. You cry out, digging your nails into his scarred back, your legs wrapping around his toned waist to keep him close.

The growls and grunts that fall from Razor’s lips sound so primal, as if he’s just running in instinct at this point. And he really truly is. Every since he smelled that delicious scent, his instincts were telling him he needed to fuck you so full of his cum and make you swell with his children. The sounds coming from both of you and from the way his balls slapped against your ass and the way your pussy squelched with each hard thrust was so incredibly lewd. Razor leans back down to your neck, biting hard enough to break skin as he growls once more, “Mine.” This brings you completely over the edge, your sweet pussy pulsating around his cock as you cum.

It’s not long til Razor follow suit. He latches onto the mark he gave you, letting out a muffled, husky groan as he fills you with his potent load. The way his cock throbs inside of you makes you feel overstimulated for the second time that day. Razor stays still for a moment, not wanting to pull out. Not wanting to be done. He wanted to see your breasts grow bigger and your stomach swell. He wanted to make you his for life. The thought alone makes his cock begin to harden inside of you once more and he looks into your eyes, “Again.”

⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓃦⚡︎

a/n: this makes me want to write knotting/omegaverse fics😭

#razor smut #razor x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin razor #genshin impact razor

[beskarandblasters]

Uncut

Inexperienced!Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: This is inspired by this beautiful art by @immarocketman!! My friend @theywhowriteandknowthings also wrote a drabble based on this art piece as well! Banners and dividers are by @saradika 🤍

Summary: You give Din his first blowjob and he’s insecure about a little secret he’s been keeping.

Word count: 950

Warnings: no physical description used for Reader (but they are able-bodied), porn with little plot, uncircumcised!Din, shy!Din, oral sex (M receiving), body worship, pet names (baby for Din, cyar’ika for you), cum eating, no use of y/n

You’re lying in the small cot of the Razor Crest pressed up against Din. He’s opted to be the little spoon tonight, one of your arms slung around his waist. He’s wearing his full armor, cape and all (but minus his weapons), and it has you thinking… How is he comfortable under all that? Not to mention it’s a warm night tonight.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Aren’t you hot under there?”

“…A little.”

“We could sleep naked tonight.”

He’s silent for a moment as if he’s pondering his decision.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” you add.

“Okay,” he says with a shaky breath.

“You can take your helmet off, too. We’ve pretty much decided to take on a riduurok the next time we’re with the covert,” you say softly.

He nods and you remove your arm from his waist so he can get undressed. You’ve seen him helmetless only a handful of times since deciding to be his riduur. He rises from the cot and takes off his helmet, a worried look painting his face. Poor thing.

You sit up at the edge of the cot and watch him with concerned eyes. You’ve only been intimate with Din a few times, usually in the dark with all of his armor on. This is new territory for both of you. But there’s no doubt in your mind he’s beautiful.

He takes off his gloves and starts removing his armor piece by piece. Once he’s down to just his flight suit and his boots he stops, however.

“What is it, baby?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Anything,” you reassure him, grabbing his hands.

“I’m… I’m uncut.”

“Okay.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it?”

“Well, I-”

“Has someone been… rude about it in the past?”

“Well, no. No one’s ever been… down there before.”

“You’ve never had your cock sucked before?”

“…No.”

“Undress and switch places with me.”

“Cyar’ika, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you reassure him.

He nods, unzips his flight suit, and kicks off his boots, all with the same uneasy look on his face. You stand so he can sit at the edge of the cot, sitting with a side stance and his thighs spread apart. This is the first time you’ve seen his cock in the light and it’s beautiful just like you thought it would be. It makes sense a Mandalorian would be uncut. What made him so nervous about telling you that?

You sink to the floor and rest on your knees, kissing along his groin, practically everywhere but his cock. Goosebumps prick his skin in the wake of your lips, followed by a shiver up his spine. His cock is growing harder as you work your way across his groin, the pre-cum gathering at the head of his cock.

One hand cups his balls while the other wraps around the base of his cock. You look at him and his eyes are fixed on you, still wearing the nervous expression on his face. How cute.

“Relax, baby,” you tell him, right before you slip your tongue in between his foreskin and the head of his cock. He grows even wetter and slicker when you do that, letting out a muffled Mando’a curse word as you swirl your tongue around slowly. His hands caress each side of your face, but so lightly as if he’s hesitant and wondering if that’s okay to do. You move the hand cupping his balls and rest it atop his hand, stroking his skin with your thumb to let him know it’s okay, all while maintaining eye contact.

He nods and closes his eyes as you pick up the pace, returning your hand back to his balls and cupping them lightly. Your tongue circles his head faster and faster until you finally take his length in your mouth, moving your head up and down. You feel his foreskin following the motions of your head inside your mouth against your tongue and cheeks. The feeling is too good. He lets out a mangled moan and he’s back to looking at you again, looking like an angel underneath him as you suck his cock. Soon enough, his entire cock and your hand are completely soaked in a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum. The motions are smooth and you’re moving effortlessly, mouth and hand sliding up and down on his cock, bringing him closer to the edge. His balls tense up in your hand and his cock twitches against your tongue. He’s going to cum soon.

“Cyar’ika, I’m going to-”

You let out a long hum, letting him know it’s okay to cum and sending a vibration up his shaft. The floodgates open and his grip on your head tightens as he cums. His head is thrown back in pleasure, letting out a long string of moans and whimpers as he cuts down your throat. You swallow all of it, feeling proud that you gave him his first blowjob and made him feel this good.

Once you’ve swallowed all of his release you take him out of your mouth and rest back on your heels. He catches his breath and looks down at you, your saliva and his cum dripping down your chin.

“Kriff, I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“You’re sorry?!” you say, rising from the floor and sitting beside him.

You kiss him, hard and passionate before pulling back and saying, “You should’ve let me do that a long time ago.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course, baby.”

His face contorts into a small, bashful smirk. You pull him into you, kissing his temple and whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

He melts into your touch. He normally doesn’t feel that way about himself but tonight, he believes you.

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #star wars smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #din djarin fanfiction

[loveshotzz]

I hope I’m not late for request this🥹:

[inside one muses’s office] with AIRWIY!Steve? And reader give him his first blowjob?🥹

So this one got a little out of hand, but 🥺 I love him and he deserves the best head in the world if you ask me. Thank you for your request! 💕 I hope you like it!

older!steve x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ age gap, new established relationship, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, smidge of size kink, smidge of daddy kink, finger sucking, swallowing.

wc: 2.8k

A/N: This request is apart of my completed series All I Really Want Is You, but can be read as a stand alone. For those that read the series this takes place shortly after chapter ten.

It was supposed to be a nice lunch in his office on your day off. You weren’t supposed to be giving him elevator eyes from the other side of his desk while he complained to you about his day. But no one had warned you about what middle of the work day Steve looked like. Not quite as dishievied as the end of it when he’s checking his mail, but not put together like when you see him leave his house through your bedroom window when the sun is barely touching the sky. More importantly, you didn’t know about the glasses.

The thin silver frames sit perched on the end of his nose with hair that looks like he just started running his hands through it. The slicked back style it began the day in still sticks to some of his auburn locks while the rest develop a crazed mind of their own. He had popped open the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, revealing a matching tank top underneath and the beginnings of the soft dark thatch of hair that covers his chest. His sleeves are rolled up to the middle of his forearms, and the tan he still has left over from the last few days of summer makes his skin look bronzed. The scruff that lines his jaw is thicker today than he’d usually allow too, but that’s because he’d forgotten his razor in your bathroom the last night he slept over. 

God, he was handsome. 

“Wrapping up at the end of a season, especially one where we didn’t make it to the finals has been nightmare, honey.” He rubs his eyes from under his glasses leaning back in his seat. 

He was stressed too.

The leather squeaks with his movements, and your gaze finds its way to his newly revealed waist. His black dress slacks are pulled tight over his thighs, and the silver buckle of his belt gleams when it hits the sun spilling in from his office windows. 

“Just one more week till your vacation,” you remind him gently, your fingers playing with the hem of the sundress and you catch the way his eyes track your movements, wetting his lips.

“One more week till I get to have you all for myself.” He counters, making you giddy at the thought of your first trip together to New York, “enough about my day though. Let me get a better look at this pretty dress you’re wearin’, is it new?” 

There’s heat flickering behind his gaze when he gestures for you to stand in front of him, something a little mischievous in his grin that makes your skin buzz.

“Yeah, I got it at Lost Girls after work the other day. I’d been looking at it for a while through the window, thought I’d do something nice for myself.” Your nerves make you ramble as you get up, but Steve thinks it’s cute. He thinks everything you do is cute.

“It’s really, really nice baby,” he praises when you get in front of him letting his eyes roam all the ways it hugs your curves just right, like it was made custom for your body and his slacks get a little tighter. “You look so beautiful, give me a little twirl.”

Your face burns like it’s the middle of June at his request, and the golden emerald of his eyes get darker from behind his lenses. The air around you both turns electric when your already short hem flutters out around the tops of your thighs, spinning around twice for him, just enough to give a glimpse of the red lace that hugs your ass cheeks underneath. 

“You gonna be wearing this tonight when I pick you up for dinner?” He asks with big hands reaching out for you, begging you to get closer.

“I didn’t know we had plans tonight.” You giggle letting your wedges carry you to the space he made for you between his legs. The cedar and spice of his cologne envelopes your senses when you get close enough for his hands to find the back of your thighs pulling you to him with a squeal.

The whites of his teeth show when he looks up at you with a smile that steals your breath away, squeezing at the soft dough under his palms.

“What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t show you off any chance I got?” The pads of his thumbs swipe against the hem of the lace that meets at the curve of your ass, butterflies in your stomach because you’ll never get used to hearing him say that.

“Yeah, I’ll wear it, handsome.” You agree, making him hum in approval. 

He lets you run your fingers through the soft silk of his hair, silver strands showing themselves to you in a mess of dirty blonde and auburn as you scratch along his scalp. Steve groans at the feeling and it goes straight to your core, his long fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs, leaning his forehead against the soft pudge of your tummy with his eyes closed.

“Fuck,” He mumbles against you, the wheels on his chair roll him closer as his hands grip higher, warm palms finding the dough of your buttcheeks when you scratch at the nape of his neck. 

You watch the way his shoulders slump, the muscles in his body finally starting to unwind from your touch. You want to unwind him more.

“Steve?” His name comes out in just above a whisper, your nerves threatening to get the best of you. 

“Hmm?” He hums in response, too lost in the feeling of your nails dragging over his scalp.

“Let me take care of you.” Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you tug a little at his roots asking him to meet your gaze. 

“Honey,” It doesn’t sound like a protest, and it doesn’t feel like it either when his nails dig half crescent moons into the backs of your thighs, staring up at you with wide eyes.

You remember the empty hallways on your way up. Everyone was gone for the season, including Richard.

“You’ve been working so hard, you deserve it.” You cup the side of his face, your body buzzing when he leans into your touch. “Will you let me?”

“I - “ Wetting his lips, Steve glances at the door before bringing his attention back to you, “yeah, okay, shit, yeah.”

You hold his heavy lidded gaze with a confidence he’s never seen before as you drop to your knees, the nails that were just in his hair dragging along his thighs and it sends him reeling. He doesn’t know how long you’ve thought about this.

The carpet is rough on your freshly lotioned skin, the bottom hem of your dress pulling up over the tops of your thighs. Leaning back in his chair, the new angle gives him the perfect view down the deep heart shaped neckline of your dress. The necklace he got you on your first date shimmers just above the swell of your breasts and it makes his cock press into the metal of his zipper. He wishes he could take a picture of you right now.

“You want this baby?” His voice comes out gruff when he asks, the gold inside his eyes darkening to something almost black as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You have no idea, just how bad I want it … daddy.” Looking up at him through thick lashes, you punch the air out of his lungs in a low exhale through his nose when you don’t hesitate to start working at the silver of his belt buckle.

“Fuck, you can’t say - ” He huffs out exasperated, contemplating taking a half day so he can spend the rest of it in bed with you. 

Leather squeaks underneath him when he lifts his hips to help you tug his pants down. The hard outline of him strains against his briefs, mouth watering when you notice the darkened spot where he’s already leaking into the black cotton. More confident now, your palms find purchase on the tops of his hairy thighs, leaning forward you let heat of your breath make him twitch, earning a low groan when your lips trail like a ghost behind it.

“Can’t say what?” Your tone drips innocence, your bottom lip tugging down against the covered head of his cock before lifting your gaze with a mischievous smirk, relishing in the sharp inhale he takes through his teeth. 

“I think you’re gonna kill me.” He almost laughs, running a hand over his face. Pushing up his glasses in the process he settles his heavy gaze on you with a lazy grin as they slide down the slope of his nose.

You hum, glossed lips twisting at the corners as you hook your fingers in the elastic of his briefs, giving them a gentle pull to signal what you want. Steve gives it to you without any hesitation, the full weight of his cock slapping against his stomach making your thighs press at the thought of being stretched by it. The pink tip swipes against the hem of his button up that sits rucked up at his belly button and you don’t think you’ll ever be immune to just how big and pretty he is.

“That wouldn’t be very nice of me huh?” you tease looking up at him with a pout.

“Nuh-uh” He mumbles, face crumpling a little watching your fingers try to wrap around the base of him, the tips of them just barely meeting on the other side. The grip he has on the armrest of his chair, stretches his skin so tight the whites of his knuckles start to show.

“And, I wanna be nice,” he feels like velvet in your hand, the pad of your thumb tracing the large vein that runs up the side, before swiping over his sensitive head. You collect what he’s already given to you with enough pressure to make his toes curl inside his wingtip dress shoes.  

Leaning forward, you slowly let your tongue run the length of him, feeling the way he twitches against the muscle before paying extra attention to what’s weeping for you, swirling your tongue around the tip. Salty and little sweet from the way he drinks his coffee in the morning, you hum pleased when he hits your taste buds. 

“God, honey.”

You don’t give him any warning when you wrap your lips around him, a greedy tongue flattening along the underside. Gagging when he hits the back of your throat, you still try to open up just a little more, your hand keeping up with what you can’t reach.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve’s jaw goes slack, eyelids growing too heavy to keep open at the heat of your mouth enveloping him. His head pushes further into his chair while he fights to keep his hands from flying to the back of yours.

Scooting closer, you feel him spread his legs even more, and your hand that’s not wrapped around the base of his cock, slides down his thigh. The blunt ends of your nails dragging through the rough curls that cover it.

“That’s - that’s so - shit, you’re making me feel so fucking good.” He grunts, finally working up enough strength to pry his eyes open to get a look at what he’s dreamed of a million times alone in the shower. “Always so good to me baby.”

You moan at his words, the praise drowning out the dull throb in your knees from the hard floor, and your throat opens up just a little more, the tip of your nose a ghost against his thick happy trail.

“You like that?” The tone he uses is deep, like someone laced the honey it’s always had for you with cinnamon. “You like when I tell you how good you are?”

Hollowing out your cheeks, you suck even harder, the wetness between your legs only getting worse when he lets out a strangled groan. You slowly work up the length of his cock with tight lips, before releasing him with a loud ‘pop’. For a second Steve thinks he might add more to the shining mess that covers your face, spit still connecting your chin to his sensitive head. 

You drag your teeth over your swollen bottom lip, his dark eyes tracking the movement when it pops back into place, twitching in your hand that hasn’t stopped pumping him. He thinks he likes this better than your gloss. You nod in response with a smile and he can’t believe is a little shy. 

Leaning forward, he wipes your chin with his thumb before tracing where your teeth just were with the pad of it. His eyes darken even more when your mouth opens, strawberry lips wrapping around him with no hesitation.

Yeah, you’re going to kill him. 

“Fuck, look at you,” He pushes down on your tongue, watching the way your thighs press under your dress sucking on the digit with the same force. “I’m so lucky.”

You moan around him, the motions of your wrist getting faster, and the urge to taste him becomes unbearable. With a gentle scrap of your teeth you let go of his thumb, pushing up on your knees to beg for a kiss. The wheels of his chair clink against the hinges when he eagerly accepts your request, one of his hands finding the back of your neck pulling you closer to lick into your mouth without a second thought. 

Your teeth scrape together, tongues battling for dominance while the stubble that lines his jaw threatens to rub your skin raw, but you don’t care. The inside of your thighs start to get sticky and the large vein that runs up the side of his cock pulses against your palm with the need for your attention. It’s the only thing that can get you to pull away from his lips that won’t stop devouring yours.  

It’s with new determination that you take him back into the heat of his mouth, doing your best to take him deeper down your throat than before. He moans your name loud enough that you’re sure anyone in this part of the building would hear if they were actually in their offices. He lets a big hand find the back of your head this time, while both of yours find the tops of his thighs. 

Your cheeks hollow again while your tongue wraps around as much as you can get, more spit, more slick to bob in rhythm with the thrusts of his hips. The tip of him catches at the back of your throat, and the way it squeezes his head when your reflex hits makes his toes curl, fingers burying themselves in your hair to keep you there.

“Oh, that’s - that’s it- take the whole thing. Shit. You’re gonna make me cum baby. Just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop. Good girl, good girl.” 

Each snap of his hips gets as desperate as his babbling, like he’s completely forgotten he’s still at work. One of your hands leaves his thigh to cup his balls that have been screaming for attention since the moment you walked into his office in that dress. Rolling them in your palm is the final touch that makes his vision go white behind his eyes, body tensing and face going slack just like his jaw. 

“Baby, baby, baby.”

Twitching, he spills hot down the back of your throat and you try to swallow as much of it as you can before it dribbles down your chin, dripping onto your chest. His full weight falls back onto his chair, the wheels it’s on moving just enough to have him slide half soft from the warm velvet of your mouth. He tasted even better than you’d imagined, promising yourself you were going to do this again to him after dinner. 

Chest heaving, a breathy laugh escapes him, and the hand that was buried in your hair runs through his before his eyes open up back to their normal golden brown. His cheeks flush pink when he gets a look at the mess he made of you, and it only deepens when you collect the spend that found its way to the swell of your breasts with the pads of your fingers before sucking them clean.

“I think I’m gonna take a half day.”

#my writing #all i really want is you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #older!steve harrington #older!steve

[pandorxxx]

Sleeping beauty

Lo’ak (19) x Avatar fem reader (19)

Warnings: somnophilla, intense orgasms, cursing, p in v, choking, creampie

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

Lo’ak crept in like a thief in the night, walking towards your lifeless avatar body. He kneeled down beside your cot, caressing your arm.

“My sweet, y/n. You’re so beautiful when you sleep.” He whispered, tracing your body up and down. He looked around, ensuring that no one was watching. He pulled the sheet back, climbing on top of you. He bent down to your neck, kissing it softly as he fondled your breasts. He slid down your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses before reaching your loincloth. He gently pulled it down, unwrapping it from around your ankles.

He sat up, admiring your half naked body. He slowly pulled your legs back to reveal your glistening cunt. He licked his lips before bending down to French kiss it, sucking on your clit. He sat up, eyeing you lustfully as he untied his loincloth. He threw it to the side before lining himself up with your entrance, sliding into you slowly. He bit his lip, trying his best to suppress his moans, but he couldn’t help it.

“Mhmm shit!” He strained, pulling your leg onto his shoulder as he thrusted into you deeply. He kissed your ankle, looking down at your, still unconscious body…and nothing. He almost forgot that you were an avatar, lifeless without your consciousness.

Back at the lab

“I’ll take you tomorrow. You’ve got to get out of this lab.” Neteyam chuckled, watching you work on your computer. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Neteyam, I’m busy. Hallelujah mountains next week, I promise.” You spoke soullessly, razor focused on your computer. All of the sudden, your computer was slammed shut, and you were whipped around to face him.

“I said tomorrow.” Neteyam spoke, eyeing you up and down before meeting your eyes again. Now, all you could focus on was him. You traced his entire body before looking back into his eyes. You nodded wildly, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Smart choice.” He smiled, kissing your lips before standing up straight. You blushed, turning your seat back around to your desk.

“Now if you would excuse me, I have to go sleep next to my lifeless girlfriends body tonight.” He smiled sarcastically, walking towards the door.

“I’ll be up when you get there, neteyam.” You chuckled, fanning him away as you leaned back in your chair.

“Ah Yes! that is what you always say. Then I find you sleep at your desk the next morning.” He replied, walking out of the door.

“ILL BE THERE! I PROMISE!” You shouted, watching him close the door behind him. You fell into deep thought for a moment:

Was I really neglecting Neteyam? That’s definitely not my intention. I’m just busy, he understands that right?

You sighed, rubbing your hands through your hair before standing. You walked over to the linking station, queuing up the transformation.

You opened the top, laying down before shutting it. You took a deep breath before closing your eyes, as you felt your mind travel to your avatar.

As your mind shifted to your avatar, you could feel your surroundings changing; the smells, the textures, the air. Your ears twitched when you heard faint moans, and grunts. You could feel a familiar sensation in your lower abdomen. Your eyes finally shot opened to an unbelievable scene.

“Hey, baby. You’re finally up!” Lo’ak muttered breathlessly as he rolled his hips into yours slowly, watching your consciousness pour into your body. You shot up, trying to push him off of you, but he pinned you back down by your neck.

“w-what the fuck are y-ughhh you doing?” You whined, unfortunately feeling your orgasm slowly approaching. He speed up the pace, hitting your sweetspot with each stroke.

“I’m fucking you, duh?!” He smiled sarcastically, licking his lips before kissing your leg again, maintaining eye contact. You threw your head back, involuntarily submitting to his touch. You tried to push him back with the little energy you had, but he was fucking you too good.

“Lo’ak! neteyam will be back any second.” You moaned, turning away from his gaze. He grabbed your neck tighter, turning you towards him.

“You don’t wanna look me in the eyes? Huh? Afraid you might fall in love?” He asked, tilting his head at you before reaching down to plant wet kisses on your neck.

“Fuck, lo’ak! Im serious! He’s on the way.” You whined, nudging his head to get him to sit up. He hissed loudly, sitting up to meet your nervous gaze.

“I’ll be quick, y/n! So you can go back to your perfect little boyfriend like you’re not seconds away from squirting off the strength of ME.” He growled, rolling his eyes as he rolled his hips into yours once more, making your legs twitch.

“yeah yeah, whatever! Just don’t stop!” You moaned, grabbing his broad arm. You bit your lip, swirling your hips into his, feeling your orgasm coming.

“Lo’ak, I-I’m almost there!” You shouted shamelessly, earning a shocked look from lo’ak. His eyes widened, covering your mouth quickly.

“Woah woahhh, what the fuck? Shut up! Are you stupid?” He joked, keeping his hand over your mouth to muffle your screams. He watched your eyes roll back as you started to spazz in his grasp. You whimpered in his hand, cumming all over his cock.

“Ahhh fuck, you keep clenching around me like that and I’m gonna fill you up.” He groaned, rutting into you as he chased his orgasm. You nodded frantically wrapping your tail around his thigh. He looked up at you through his eyebrows.

“Y/n, no! Are you fucking crazy?” He yelled quietly, throwing his head back as he felt his peek nearing. You yanked your leg off of his shoulder, wrapping both of your legs around his torso, pulling him closer to you. His eyes widened at the realization that he was stuck.

“Y/n, stop fucking around. I-I’m almost there, shitttt!” He laid his head on your chest as you wrapped your arms around him, scratching his back up as you chased your second orgasm.

“Lo’akkkk!” You whined loudly, eyes rolling back as your legs started shaking. He rolled his eyes, placing his hand on your mouth again.

“Bro, hush! I know it’s good and all, but-” He chuckled, but was quickly cut off by you spazzing harder than last time. He watched your spit slip through the cracks of his fingers as it dripped down your chin. You were going cross eyed as your whole body shook uncontrollably.

“Goddamn…” Lo’ak muttered, watching you seize under him. He was shocked that he had you feeling this way. He thrusted into you slowly, letting you ride out your high. You finally came to, eyes wide as you tried desperately to catch your breath.

“Was that your first time cumming like that? Neteyam could never make you feel this good.” Lo’ak grunted, thrusting into you relentlessly as he felt his orgasm approaching again.

“Shit, w-where do you want it?” He asked, contorting his face in pleasure. He looked into your desperate eyes, shaking his head all knowingly.

“Y/n…come on! Don’t make this hard for me.” He pouted jokingly, pushing your damp hair out of your face. You gripped his arm tightly, rolling your hips into his again.

“Shittt, stop that!” He strained, smacking your hand away. You clenched around him repeatedly, smiling into his hand.

“Y/N!” was all he could say before painting your walls with his seed. He convulsed, falling into your arms as you both tried catching your breath.

“And I thought I was crazy…” lo’ak panted, pulling out of you slowly, taking his hand from across your mouth. You gasped loudly, licking the spit from around your lips. He watched you in awe, slapping his tip on your sticky cunt.

“We gotta do this more often. How do you feel about that, mama?” He glared at you, rubbing his cock in between your sensitive folds. You sat up on your elbows, solely focusing on his cock.

“Mhmm!” you bit your lip, nodding your head frantically. He shot you a sadistic grin, getting off the cot to put his loincloth back on. You quickly found your loincloth, tying it around your hips as well. He looked back to see you wrapping yourself in the sheet, watching his every move. He bit his lip, winking at you before walking towards the door.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing Neteyam sprint around the corner. Neteyam stopped, shooting lo’ak a confused look. You shut your eyes instantly, pretending to be sound asleep.

“h-hey lo’ak. Is something wrong?” He asked confused, looking at him and then back at your sleeping body under the sheets. Lo’ak looked back at you, almost bursting out in laughter as he watched you fake sleep to save your own ass.

“Uhh no, I was just looking for my dagger. Mom said that it might be in here, but I’m not seeing it. I was sure to be quiet, so I wouldn’t wake her.” Lo’ak explained, gesturing softly. Neteyam shook his head, smiling at his younger brother.

“Baby bro, you have GOT to stop losing your weapons!” Neteyam chuckled, slapping his hand on lo’aks shoulder. Lo’ak sighed in relief, laughing along with his brother. Neteyam shot his head back at you, watching you sleep soundly.

“Did she move at all?” Neteyam asked, walking over to you. Lo’ak thought back to about 5 minutes ago; how he gave you 2 body shaking orgasms. He smiled to himself before speaking.

“Not an inch, bro.”

Last story of the week, and this might be my favorite one. Had to make it funny😂. As always, I love y’all to death, and I’ll see y’all soon!!❤️🫶🏽🫶🏽

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam headcanons #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x reader #avatar headcanons #jake smut #neteyam smut #jake sully #loak smut #loak sully #loak x y/n #jake x y/n #jake headcanons #jake x reader #avatar jake #avatar neteyam

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Love Sucks VI. The Kiss

Vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

He’s just a gloomy, little guy.

The Masterlist 🩸

It had taken Steve a long time to garner control over his new body, his teeth. The razor sharp canines that cut and sliced his gums when he was hungry, when he was tired, angry, overwhelmed. It took time to learn how they worked, how to conceal them, how to override the reaction, to keep them hidden under his lips. Months, years, maybe centuries - Steve had forgotten.

But eventually, it became a little easier and they didn’t hurt as much and Steve stopped cutting himself on them, sliced fingers a thing of the past. But Steve had never kissed someone, not like this, not with them.

Not dead.

He’d know you for months now, the time ticking over like a new kind of season, one he felt like he hadn’t seen in so long. You were like summer, warm and soft and sweet and achingly pretty. You smelled like honey, like citrus groves in the sun, like the melancholy scent of sunscreen rubbed on freckled shoulders, like chlorine and pool days. Steve thought he’d never loved someone as much as he loved you.

He wanted to show you. He wanted to do more than bring you pocketfuls of flowers, he wanted to more than hold your hand. He didn’t want to hurt you though. So when you say on your knees in the middle of your bed one day, just as summer turned into fall, your eyes earnest and shy, Steve wasn’t sure what to do. You were leaning in close, lashes fluttering, nose almost brushing his own and Steve forgot all about the book in his lap.

He gulped, swallowed thickly and clumsily and his mouth watered at the sight of you so close. He could see the tiny marks upon your skin, freckles and silver scars, a blemish you’d tried to cover with a little concealer, the shine of your lip balm on your mouth. He could smell the citrus groves on you, sunscreen swapped out for a cocoa butter lotion, like cinnamon and oranges.

His fangs split his gums, tongue tasting like pennies - just for a second - and he groaned, backing away from you until his shoulders hit the wall and he was shying into the corner. Steve saw the hurt in your eyes, the rejection shining there. He groaned again, this time much more frustrated than before. He licked at his gums, shuddering at the catch of his fangs. More blood, a drip, drip, drip.

“It’s not— it’s not you, it’s not like that—”

You sniffed, waving a hand between the two of you, between your watery eyes and his feeble words. “It’s okay, Steve, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“I want to kiss you,” Steve blurted, his words fumbling, desperate. “I do. I want to kiss you. A lot.” He swallowed again, metal going down his throat, iron on his tongue. He pointed to his teeth, a fingernail napping against one, white and sharp. “I just don’t know how.”

You smiled, relieved, the sting of rejection fading the same way the sun did. “Let’s talk about it then, yeah?”

It’s how you ended up on the boy’s lap, as innocent as the position could be. Your bedroom was darker now, a faint glow from your lamp casting Steve’s skin in a pink-peach glow. He looked more alive than he’d ever felt. His hands were chaste, curling around the tops of your knees and he nodded as you moved a little closer, your nose brushing his and Steve held his breath in anticipation. His fangs cut a little more, stretching from his gums until they ached and he was sure the pain would only lessen if he got his lips on you.

A peck. That’s all it was. A quick, two second press of your lips against his own, closed mouthed and fleeting.

Steve could taste fireworks, he was sure of it. Colour and smoke and fire and glitter. Maybe it was in his chest, maybe something inside of him had burst. Maybe it had given him a new heartbeat.

“Okay?” You asked, your word barely a breath and you’d pulled back enough to glance down at Steve through your lashes, your own heart racing and you were sure the boy would hear it. “Was that okay?”

Steve nodded furiously, unable to hide the excitement in his eyes, the faint lilac-rose flush on his cheeks. His gums were stinging but he moved his hands from your knees to your waist, squeezing there. “Mhm,” he hummed. “Keep going.”

So you grinned and leaned in again, lips brushing his again, once, twice, bottom lip grazing over his top and Steve let out a gasp, a sigh. He parted his lips, eager to taste you a little more and you hissed when one fang caught you. Just a little, just slightly, no more than a drag but Steve froze.

You shook your head, desperate to keep kissing him, to keep feeling him. You let your hands cradle his face, fingers tracing along his jaw and you murmured sweet nothings, soft nonsense that you hoped would calm the boy. “No, no, hey, it’s okay. Steve? I’m fine.”

You let Steve drag his head back, only just, his wide and panicked eyes scanning your face, your mouth. No blood. No cuts. He blew out the breath he’d been holding, squeezed at your waist again.

“Again?”

The boy nodded.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington blurb #Steve harrington oneshot #vampire!steve

[phonydiaries]

In the Heat of Battle - P x Reader

Requested by @amethyst-huntress

Notes: The premise of this fic was requested by Amethyst-Huntress and I started absolutely foaming at the mouth at the idea, so huge thank-you’s are in order for that nugget of inspiration. Unfortunately, same as last time, I have still barely progressed through the game thanks to my lack of patience and skill, so please forgive that both of my fics take place extremely early in playthrough. Other than that, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!

— 

Where is that damn puppet? You think to yourself, teeth gritted at the deadly inconvenience standing in front of you. 

In the dark and the rain and the constant buzzing noise of Krat, you admit it's easy to get turned around. Even traveling with a companion -in your case, with Gepetto’s puppet- it’s easy to lose track of which gloomy alleys you’d already traversed. Even standing back to back, nudging each other with your elbows, even checking in every so often,“You still with me?” It was easy to get lost. But now, standing face to face with a candelabra wielding automaton and a rabid mechanical dog, you’re  not feeling very generous towards your puppet companion. He’s probably searching for you in a frenzy at this very moment. 

Ha.

Fat load of good it does you. 

The automaton winds up and its eyes flash red across your face. Target locked. The candelabra comes crashing towards your head, but it's met instantly with the clanging cold steel of your sword. The automaton stumbles backwards. Its head cocks unnaturally to the side and you hear something whir, as if in frustration, beneath its face. It winds up again to strike you, but you’re quick and clever; you land a blow in the dead center of the loathsome thing's torso. A sick crunch of metal echoes as you draw the sword out of the brand new gaping cavity in its chest. The automaton sinks to its knees. You look down your nose at it, satisfied at your own skill. The enemy looks to be shutting down, but in a quick, almost desperate motion, its hand shoots towards your foot, grasping wildly. It's cold fingers close around your ankle, but you quickly stamp it out with your free foot. The automaton lets out a weak mechanical wheeze as its hand is crushed beneath your boot. For good measure, you take the hilt of your sword in both hands and slam the base through the miserable things forehead. It crackles, then collapses finally on the ground. You smile darkly at its now lifeless shell. Perhaps a little early. 

A sharp bark cuts through the air and your head snaps to attention. Shit. You forgot about the damn dog. Before you have the chance to raise your sword again, the dog lunges at you. Razor sharp teeth clang dissonantly together and the sound ripples against the glistening walls of the alley. In an instant, you’re knocked to the wet, muddy ground; the iron paws of the mutt are already upon your chest. The mongrel snarls mere centimeters from your face, black oily fluid spilling from its mouth as if salivating. You groan and struggle beneath its weight but regain your grip on your sword just in time to catch its rabid jaw. The dog bites down on your blade, thrashing its head to either side. You strain against its unnatural strength, attempting to pull your weapon free. In one fell swoop you’ll rip it free and decapitate this fucking thing. Your fingers curl tighter around your hilt, you ready a strike, suck in one sharp breath and then-

You freeze.

A second blade appears, glinting in the gaslight, right between your eyes. Thick black fluid goes splattering across your face. The mutt goes limp, its full weight crushing your lower torso. A gasp is pushed from your lungs and you roll to the side, quickly shoving the robotic corpse away from your body. You kneel, palms pushing into the slick ground. Your heart is thundering beneath your shirt as you swallow frigid air hard and fast. When you finally catch a breath, you turn your head towards the owner of the blade; Pinocchio, your companion. He wipes the rapier against his trousers, cleaning the sludge from its razor sharp surface. You huff, blowing matted wet bangs out of your face. 

“I had that under control.” You say sharply. P cocks an eyebrow at you, unconvinced. You feel your face burn in annoyance. “I did!” You insist, “Had you given me just one more minute I would’ve been fine. And probably less covered in this.” You jab your weapon in his direction, flecking dark oil across his shirt. He shoots you a slightly apologetic smile. 

He knows you can handle yourself, he does. He just worries. You can’t blame him; you do the same thing. You’ve gotten quite close on these arduous journeys, saving each other's skins more times than either of you can count. As you wipe the sludge from your face, P extends his hand to you and begrudgingly you take it. Swiftly, he helps you to your feet. His eyes flicker up and down your face, narrowing on your cheek. He licks the thumb of his legion hand and streaks it across your cheek, lifting the remnants of black. You scrunch your nose up at him.

“Eugh- enough-” You whine, swatting the hand away. “Where did you run off to anyways?” 

Pinocchio’s legion arm gestures behind his head. You squint through the darkness at the distant yellow lights of Hotel Krat up ahead. You grimace. It’s further still than you thought. “I don’t suppose you found some kind of underground shortcut?” P shakes his head apologetically. You both sigh, knowing you’ve got plenty of dangers yet to face before you’re given any time to rest. These days spent traveling have taken their toll on your bodies, but you’re at least grateful to have a friend in the gloom of Cerasani Alley. Your sword slides neatly into your belt as you walk ahead of Pinocchio. “Back to it then.” 

As the two of you push forward, you notice a concerted effort on your companions' part to stick close to your side. At any strange noise or eerie shadow, P reaches for your hand. You squeeze back in reassurance that all is well. A bit unnecessary? Sure. But you don’t fight it. It’s much preferred to losing the poor boy again. 

Drawing closer to your destination with only a few minor scuffles to slow you down, you reach a dilapidated fairgrounds. Sickly yellow light bulbs buzz overhead and cast an ominous glow across the entire scene. A ghostly music box melody plinks and permeates the air. You look to P quizzically. 

“You’re sure this is the right way?”

P takes in his surroundings and gives you a curt nod. You grimace in reply. This decrepit place gives you the creeps.

Together you silently weave through wooden cutouts of circus performers, checking carefully for hidden enemies. It's suspiciously quiet, save for the phantasmal carnival music that grows louder as you approach an iron gate. Another barrier. Excellent. 

“P?” You step aside and gesture to the locked gate. Pinocchio smiles slyly at you, boyishly pleased that there’s still a few things you can’t do without him. You want to roll your eyes, but you watch reluctantly impressed, as deep violet energy crackles around his fist. In one swift swing, he punches through the gate and leaves a smoking crater where the lock once sat. He shoots you a sharp smile, satisfied with himself. 

And then you feel something. A great mechanical thud rippling beneath your feet. Your heads snap in unison towards the source and your eyes go wide at the sight of the staggering monster in front of you. At least 3 times your size looms the Parade Master, constructed of decaying parts and craquelured paint. Its massive fist alone is as wide as your body, and sways heavily at its side. 

You unsheathe your blade, and its weight sinks your shoulders. It's not ideal for speed you admit, but the vindication after landing those obliterating killing blows to your enemies is unbeatable. Keeping your eyes locked on target, you whistle to catch Pinocchio’s attention. You started doing this early on. Whistles were a good line of nonverbal communication when you couldn’t afford a glance in each other's direction. 

“Flank him?” You suggest. Pinocchio whistles quick and sharp in agreement. Your fingers tighten around the great sword and your chest thrums with anticipation. You jut your chin in the direction of your common enemy. “After you.” 

Without looking, you know his brows are furrowed together in deep focus. You can perfectly visualize the way he lures the puppet away, his steps meticulously timed and graceful. As you wind your way behind the thing, you hear the clang of P’s rapier against tarnished metal. Your enemy rears its arm back, and you follow suit striking its vulnerable back with a satisfying SHUK! You yank the blade out of its now damaged shell and catch the briefest glance at your companion and oh. Oh. The way he looks at you. 

With fascination?

Admiration?

It’s something greater, deeper than that. Your heart skips. But you shake yourself out of distraction, startled at the sound of your own voice calling out. Your lips move before your mind has time to catch up. 

“MOVE!” 

Exactly as you shout it, P dodges a strike from the Parade Master. The brute’s fist lands in the brick pavement, blowing a hole through it instantaneously. You gulp at the thought of your companion lying there instead, crushed. Your skin goes cold. 

No. Never.

Knowing neither of you can afford another lapse in attention, you suck in one long loud whistle between your teeth. The Parade Master whips itself around to face you. Two huge lamp-like eyes glow sickly in your direction. This was intentional. You can distract for now and give your ally a moment to catch his breath. You ready both hands on your weapon and take a step back. The monster lurches forward, its steps accompanied by a horrid clanking sound. 

“Get over here you fucking rust bucket…” You mutter grimly under your breath as the space between you and the looming threat of death shrinks. You breathe deeply and steel yourself, heels digging into stone. You watch carefully as the puppet rushes towards you, arms swinging wildly. Just when the behemoth is about to crush you beneath its huge frame, you duck between its legs and emerge from behind. There’s just enough time to land a solid blow. P’s rapier crosses with your greatsword, both your weapons plunging into the deteriorated creatures back. 

“This one’s mine, P.” You snap, pulling your blade from its fresh wound. 

“Mine.” P parrots with a smirk, retrieving his rapier as well. Being a man of so few words, you can't help feeling amused even given the circumstances. This is good. The beast is growing weaker. If you can both keep level heads this will all be over soon, you think to yourself. 

At least until your enemy decapitates itself. 

Your jaw drops as the Parade Master rips its own head from its massive shoulders. It wields its shiny new weapon like an enormous mace and swings it your way. It makes contact with the ground, and the impact alone is enough to shake your balance. You dive to the side, narrowly avoiding collision with the wall. You struggle to recalibrate, to size up the situation while keeping yourself out of the range of attack. You hear P whistle pointedly across the arena, waiting on your instruction. Your mind races for a plan and comes up blank. 

“Hold on!” You shout, “Just- Just hold on, I’ll think of something.” You’ll have to if you want to leave this place in one piece. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. All you can think to do is attack. And you do; your blade leaves white hot gash marks on the enemy, but it hardly seems to be enough against such a terrible and towering foe. You’ve angered it now, and it’s in a total frenzy. The Parade Master swings its massive head in your direction again and you raise your sword to block it. Half a second too late. 

As your weapons collide, the impact sends you to the ground. You gasp at the sharp pain that shoots through your skull. There’s a ringing in your ears and a soft dark edge to your vision. You struggle against unconsciousness and fight to keep yourself upright. Things are moving slow; trails of light obscure the events unfolding in front of you. 

You comprehend something catching the Parade Masters' attention, you watch the goliath wind up, you hear something cry out, and then hear nothing at all. A sick feeling churns in the pit of your stomach and bile rises in your throat. Something’s wrong. You search the scene frantically for your ally. Your line of sight flickers from the Parade Masters head to the ground slick with rain. Your throat tightens. With his face turned to the ground, his eyes fighting to stay open, lies Pinocchio. His rapier skitters across the stone, coming to a sudden halt beneath the foot of the Parade Master. 

Something flashes through you, anger, grief, adrenaline; whatever it is, it propels you forward. Your weapon is suddenly weightless as you skid between the monstrous puppet and your companion. The head of the Parade Master collides with your sword and the sound echoes through the arena with an arresting ring. You breathe hard in disbelief of your own courage. Your teeth are bared and your furrowed brow is sticky with sweat. 

“Don’t. Touch him.” You command, and you swear even your mindless enemy hears it. A deep guttural sound is forced from the very bottom of your lungs as you thrust your weapon through the center of the automaton's body. It doesn’t die, but you hear something inside it break, and the creature slows significantly as if becoming too heavy for its own armature. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder. P looks like absolute hell, covered in grime, barely staggering to his feet. Your chest tightens at his condition, but he’s alive. 

Alive. It’s enough. 

The enemy screams in frustration, rippling orange flames and black smoke billow from the place its head once sat. You stare at the hilt of your great sword, still lodged in its heart. 

“P, your sword-” You start, but your ally is already on it, your strategic minds miraculously attuned. He sends the rapier sailing -now free of the parade masters foot- towards your open hand. It whips past your head and slides perfectly into your grasp. With what's left of the enemy in your sights, you take a running start. 

Time seems to slow; the taste of victory teases you. Your head is about to collide with the hulking hunk of metal just as you raise your boot and dig its heel into the hilt of your great sword. Its placement serves as a stepping stone, and you scale the furious beast. You clamber up its torso towards its shoulders and feel heat radiating from the inside. It burns your hands, which grip the edge of the cavernous socket of its missing head. The monster thrashes beneath you like a wild bull, desperate to throw you off. You tighten your grip, the white hot metal searing your palm. You force yourself to ignore the pain as you raise the rapier and plunge one final devastating blow into the blazing cavity. You feel the rapier obliterate whatever mechanism kept the Parade Master alive, and it crumbles finally beneath you. 

Atop the shoulders of your freshly slaughtered enemy, you fall forward with a deafening CRASH. Your body tumbles to the ground. Your grip on the rapier goes slack. Exhaustion ripples through you, and you surrender to its sweet embrace. 

You hadn’t even realized you’d lost consciousness until your eyes flutter open, met by the stunning blue gaze of your companion mere inches from your face. For a moment you forget yourself, the urge to sink into his arms is so tempting. But your pride wins out and you scramble into an upright position, barely awake. Pinocchio lets out a sigh of relief and you see his shoulders relax. Had he been just as terrified as you were at the prospect of losing him? Did that same dread sit in the pit of his stomach? 

Your head swims with what-ifs, but you have no energy to find their answers. With strength that you’re shocked to still possess, you throw your arms around the puppet. Your fingers clutch the wet fabric of his shirt as if he might disappear the moment you let go. His body tenses at first, then melts under your touch. You feel his head settle between your neck and shoulder, solid and secure. Silently breathing in the smell of him feels like waves of relief crashing over your head. 

You wish the journey could end here in the peace and quiet of this embrace, but you feel him begin to pull away and your heart sinks. Face to face with you, his eyes search for signs of damage, for something to mend. His hands find yours and you hiss involuntarily. His eyebrows knit together in concern. You try not to grimace. 

“It’s nothing.” you promise, “Burned my hand, that's all.”

P looks down at your hand and cradles it gently in his own. With painstaking care, he lifts it to his mouth and places a feather-light kiss in your palm, then on each of your scraped and bleeding knuckles. He looks up at you through those thick raven-wing lashes and you notice a trace of your blood left on his lips. The sight makes your head swim and it takes the entirety of your willpower not to catch his mouth with yours. Your posture stiffens as you try to regain your composure. 

“Well it’s not far now, is it?” You ask, deflecting back to the mission at hand. “There will be plenty of time to patch each other up at the hotel. Right?” You offer, already stupidly aching for the return of Pinocchio’s delicate touch. He blinks a few times, as if he were struggling to focus himself. But he nods enthusiastically. You feel a smile creep across your lips. 

As you leave the destroyed fairgrounds behind, you let your good hand slip into that of your companion. The two of you venture forth, certain to never lose track of the other again. 

— 

If you read this and enjoy it please let me know! Seeing your positive comments and tags absolutely warms my heart and motivates me to keep writing. Thank you so much to those of you who took the time to leave me some kind words on my last fic <3

#this was so fucking fun to write #lies of p #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #hurt/comfort #lop #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p fanfic #pinocchio x you #lies of p x reader #my writing

[flwrboi]

backstage. ࿏

♡° pairing. . .  choi san x male reader

♡° genre. . . smut

♡° summary. . .  just good ole fashion, desperate, needy post-concert sex with san because he was just too much while performing for you to keep it in your pants. fully intentional on his end.

♡° includes. . . bottom!reader, idol!san, public sex, grinding, finger sucking, slight orgasm prolonging, unprotected sex (dont irl!!)

♡° wc. . . 2.6k

°A/N. . . this really came out of no where,, i just saw so many more concert clips coming out and i just needed to so badly because he is frustratingly sexy. hope you enjoyyy

san was hot.

so fucking hot.

and you absolutely hated him for it.

from the way his gorgeous bronze skin radiated under the stage lights and his razor sharp jaw flexed as he danced, his perfectly styled hair never seen out of place, to his devilishly sexy grin and the newfound bulging biceps that were proudly on display in the slim fit tank top he was dedicated to wearing every show.

ateez was only 15 minutes into their setlist and you were already fighting every urge to palm your throbbing dick under your jeans in front of the busy staff.

you received a number of privileges as the boyfriend, as did all of ateez's partners, such as your backstage access and first hand look at how the idol life was ran behind the scenes.

as a collective, ateez tried to not let too many of their current significant others backstage at one time in order to not disrupt the staff, who were very obviously annoyed by your presence. but you'd be lying if you said that kept a handful of you from swarming together towards the end of each show, horny and ready to jump your mens' bones as soon as they finished their final bow.

but alas, it was just you today - san's ridiculously aroused boyfriend with no company to distract him from holding back moans every time san thrusted his hips towards the crowd.

you probably wouldn't have been so bothered already if san hadn't approached you right before taking the stage, dressed in his black bomb-bag styled crop top, revealing just a teasing amount of his chiseled abs.

as expected, he refused to go on stage without his favorite tradition of a pre-show make out. however this time, it was something about the way he was wantonly moaning into your mouth that had a heat igniting your core faster than usual. the vibrations being sent through your body and into the cool steel beams you were pressed against had your pants tightening in no time. just when he had finally rocked his hips into yours, giving your hardened member pleasurable friction, it all to ended too soon as mingi interrupted to rush his bandmate on stage.

as he was being dragged away, san simply shrugged in your direction, smirking at your desperate expression. he flashed you a wink, along with his familiar i'll make it up to you look.

you were definitely gonna hold him to it.

and now here you were, pupils dilating with lust as you watched the monitor zoom in on san licking his teeth agonizingly slow while staring into the camera. he offered another one of his shit eating grins, and you almost came in your own pants untouched, disguising a breathy whimper with a cough.

you considered sneaking off to the restroom to rub one out so you could at least focus on the concert, but you felt paralyzed, unable to move or take your eyes off of the whorishly sexy choi san.

you needed him in a way that felt more torturous than ever before, but there was nothing you could do besides wait it out.

it was a grueling couple of hours - your cheeks so hot throughout the duration of the show that you actually thought you might melt. you could only handle one more of san's seductive eye rolls or the unbuttoning of his shirt before you finally gave in and went off to satisfy yourself.

but as all storms pass, you saw light at the end of the tunnel as you noticed the concert was finally ending. the boys offered the roaring crowd a bow and began to wave as they fled the stage.

you watched stagnantly as the guys ducked away into their dressing room, before bursting in there yourself.

immediately you spotted san, whose eyes were covered by his black cap as his head was thrown back - gulping down a bottle of water. his protruding adams apple teased you as it bobbed, covered in a reflective sheen of sweat that had you squirming in place. you cleared your throat at the door way, all eight of their heads turning towards you.

as soon as san saw you, he smiled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. he could instantly read your mood - knowing you all too well to miss how needy of a state you were in.

"hey baby," he spoke casually, nearly cut off as you rushed up to him and smashed your lips into his.

you sighed as you felt his plush lips envelope yours in a warm embrace, the need you felt causing him to taste even better than you remember. when he pulled back to disconnect your lips, your hands stopped him in place so you could continue laying a fury of kisses to his lips and honestly anything else your mouth could reach. you felt him smirking at the desperate act, along with the dramatic groans of his members behind him.

you could hear wooyoung grumbling something about how you two needed to get a room as san shuffled you back towards the door, holding you back by the shoulders to pause your insatiable actions. you couldn't even bring yourself to be embarrassed in front of the other members like you usually were. the only thoughts running through your head were the feeling of san finally touching your body, and his somehow still prominent cologne taking over your senses.

"relax babe," he cooed as he shut the dressing room door behind him when you both finally exited. "someone missed me, huh."

"oh my god, san. i need you, please." you shamelessly begged, knees feeling weak as his eyes bore down into yours. "somewhere, anywhere, just now. please."

he felt your hands shakily claw against his exposed, muscular collarbones, and you felt the vibration as he groaned. to no one's surprised, he was growing aroused at how pliant you were becoming for him.

before you knew it your back was pressed firmly to a different door, inside of a room you were too dizzy to even analyze as san's lips worked passionately against yours. his large hand laid flat next to your head against the door while you kissed him back with even more fervor, moaning when you let go of his neck to feel along the flexed muscles of his arm.

"so fucking needy for me, hm?" san mumbled against your lips as his free hand traveled up your shirt.

the coolness of his hand sent goosebumps along your body as he gripped your torso - both from the chill and from the excitement of his thumb grazing one of your nipples.

before you could respond, san dipped down to sink his teeth into the sensitive spot of your neck, causing you to moan loudly and nearly fall to your knees.

san immediately returned to your mouth, slipping his tongue inside to muffle your sounds while continuing to devour you whole.

"shhh, don't want everyone to know what i'm doing to you in here, right?" he warned. you could only whine in response, and he chuckled, the low sound causing your cock to harden beyond belief.

san continued to feed you sloppy, opened-mouth kisses, his tongue laving over yours only making you feel weaker. your ravaging hands hastily pushed the black cap off of his head to rake your fingers through his damp raven locks. he pushed his toned body fully against yours, and was most likely the only thing that kept you from dropping to the floor.

san seemed to pick up on the intensity of your erection as ground your hips forward, grazing his own bulge. he hissed at the pleasure, looking down before cocking an eyebrow up at you.

you usually loved san's smile, but you could only squirm whenever you saw it in this context, knowing damn well how much advantage he had over you.

"oh someone's really missed me."

he surged forward to place another searing kiss to your lips before gripping both of your cheeks between with his thumb and index finger, forcing your head to the side as he licked a slow stripe up your jaw while grinding his hardened cock over yours once more.

again, you almost spilled in your own jeans.

"san, san-" you could only repeat his name in a feeble tone.

your boyfriend knew you were begging for more without even needing to say much else, and it was boosting his ego through the roof. he must've also felt you shaking, your poor hands trembling as they needily roamed the patches of his sculpted body that his tank top allowed to be exposed.

your hands dipped underneath his shirt, not minding the sweat one bit as you felt the rippling of his muscles as you attached your mouth to san's neck, sucking salaciously on the thickness of his column as if he were the best thing you'd ever tasted - because he was.

the deep groan that he released in your ear only egged you on, taking the liberty to lick up his own neck before attacking his jaw, nipping to your heart's desires. you wondered how his skin could still be so supple after such a long concert, but he was constantly blowing your mind in all sorts of ways. this fucker really was perfect.

"prince, if you don't stop, i'm gonna have to fuck you right on that couch."

your dick twitched in your pants at his comment, hoping it was a promise rather than a threat. you had been so wrapped up in the phenomenon that was choi san that you hadn't even noticed there was a couch in the lowly dimmed room.

you lifted a leg to wrap around his waist, pressing your bulges together tighter, making you both dizzy. then, taking his earlobe inbetween your teeth, you suckled on it gently before releasing it with a pop.

"god, i don't think i want anything more than that."

the innocence, yet desperation in your feeble tone caused san to snap. within seconds his hands firmly grasped both of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up in his hold while attacking your mouth with his with much more intensity as he walked you over to the old leather couch and plopped you down on it.

san rose up to quickly strip himself of his tank top, hardly giving you time to ogle as his firm abs and chest before you teeth were clashing once more. you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming pace of his lips as he popped open your button-up shirt, yanking it off of your body.

without missing a beat, the black haired idol shimmied down your body, your loud pants turning to whimpers as he tugged one of your nipples between his teeth. he lathered your exposed nub with the warm wetness of his mouth, his cheeks dimpling at the action. he then tapped his fingers against your lips, you latching on to them without hesitation. obediently sucking his digits and swirling your pink muscle around them, you groaned at the slightly salty satisfaction.

san withdrew his fingers from your mouth once they were nice and coated, and began sucking on your other neglected nipple as his wet fingers went on to tweak the previous.

you were writhing underneath him, just like he liked it, not letting up on you until he found it necessary. when you finally felt him come to a stop, you almost whined out of discontent until you heard the sound of his belt buckle clicking.

shooting your eyes open, you observed as san swiftly removed his pants, aiding you in removing yours as well.

"oh my, look at all of this." san hummed once your jeans were discarded, eyes darkening upon seeing the wet patch of precum on your boxers. "did i do that, babe?"

"please san, just fuck me." was all you could manage, hands reaching out to grab him.

he lowered himself into your embrace happily, loving how your hands smoothed down his naked body while he rid you both of your underwear.

"you've been so patient, love. i'm so proud of you. turn around for me." your boyfriend spoke in a firm but sweet tone, hands helping you adjust yourself with your ass in the air.

thankfully, these little excursions of yours were nothing new, so you were practically already prepped for him. still, san didn't fail to knead both of your smooth ass cheeks in his hands, holding them steadily as he leaned down to lick a fat strip over your entrance for good measure.

you called out in pleasure, gripping the sofa arm for stability.

"mmm, taste extra good when needy for me," san groaned. "ready for me, baby?"

"yes, always ready."

when san bottomed out in you in one long, smooth stroke, you felt your soul practically project from your body.

it was like this everytime, without fail. the entirety of san's girth gliding inside of you, slowly working you open with languid, repetitive strokes was all you needed to tame the hormonal beast that raged inside you.

san's dancers hips never faltered once as he would rhythmically pull out and push into you, hitting that perfect spot in rapid succession. both of his hands held your hips as his strong thighs kept his solid rocking motions sailing.

throwing his head back, san lost his own motive of keeping quiet when he felt how tightly your hole sucked him in. it was hard for him to not lose his sanity with you, when your body consistently responded to him so beautifully.

he finally came back when he heard a meek "babe, i-i'm so close" from your tender lips. quickly, he pulled out of you. not out of punishment, but it didn't cease the frustrated whimpers from you any less. san readjusted hismelf to sit upright against the couch cushion, deliciously spreading his legs for just enough room for you to fit on his lap.

he helped you hover over him, a floodgate of arousal filling his eyes as he watched you bite your bottom lip while sinking back down on to him. you grabbed san's shoulders as you started to tremble once more, rocking back and forth on his lap before you begun to bounce, feeling the stretch at a new angle.

san returned to placing searing kisses on the center of your throat, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. you knew he was reaching his high as well when you felt his hips start stuttering.

"baby, come with me." he whispered, releasing a breathy moan as he thrusted his hips upwards to meet yours.

that was all you needed to hear before rolling your hips forward one more time, feeling the rigid pleasure of his abs as you released your milky liquids all over his chest. you felt him paint the inside of your walls shortly after, a synchronous moan emitting from the both of you.

plopping forward into his embrace, you shakily placed kisses along his shoulder and neck, running your hands through his hair once more as san wrapped his strong arms around you. too satisfied to worry about the stickiness between you too.

"shit, baby. i love you. you were so good, thanks for waiting." he panted, hints of his usual cheerful tone returning to his voice.

"anytime, babe. but god, never make me wait that long again." you replied, exchanging giggles between the two of you.

you suddenly heard a choir of foot steps quickly approaching the nearby door, both of you slightly tensing. neither of you had it in you to move, however, fully fucked and blissed out while enjoying each others embrace.

it was fine, the door was locked.

hopefully.

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

#ateez smut #ateez x male reader #kpop x male reader #ateez hard hours #san x male reader #kpop smut #ateez fanfic #kpop fanfic #male reader smut #kpop male reader #san smut #ateez x reader #san x reader #choi san #kpop lgbtq #kpop imagines #kpop x reader

[ghouljams]

i see your ‘fleshlight in your face’ and raise you ‘that he just came in’ for that multisexual threesome proto-experience

He's got one of those half body sex dolls, the kind that are basically just a flesh light with two holes. So it's got a nice ass and a cute tummy for him to rut his big stupid cock against. Which he does. Frequently. Specially ordered in your skin tone too, so that when he forces your face down against its silicone cunt he can coo, "It's like you're twins Schatz."

König leans all his weight on his hands, holding your shoulders down against the bed painfully, making sure that your mouth is buried between the doll's "legs" as he fucks into you hard. He just loves to see you like this, moaning and squealing into a plastic cunt while he pounds the real one. When you do finally get enough wits about you to drag your tongue over your "twin" it's almost like the real thing. A little too soft, too much give, too much of that "fresh waxed" feeling. No razor bumps or growing hair under your tongue when you lick broad stripes over the sex doll. But there is a taste there, distinctly not plastic, a taste you're all too familiar with.

"That's it Schatzi, clean her up nice for me," König grunts. You struggle to split your mind between holding your hips up and sliding your tongue into the silicone sex doll. Your knees slide against the sheets, your back forcibly arched just by the slam of König's hips, your hips held up because they have to be. He keeps hitting something deep and achingly tingly inside of you, like he's toying with your clit from the wrong side. It makes it hard to do more than roll your eyes back. Still, you lick some of his come out of the toy and suck on its molded clit as a reward for yourself.

Some fingers grabbing your hair, or thighs closing tight around your ears would be wonderful, but the best you get is König's hand pushing the back of your head, keeping you right where he wants you. The laugh he lets drip over your skin when you swallow down his spend, and continue licking it out of his toy is sinful. It makes shame and heat wash over you, a low chuckle that tells you everything you need to know.

More than just your twin in color, König sees you as the same thing. A fleshlight with an extra hole for him to take advantage of, and a tongue to clean up with afterwards.

#cod x reader #x reader #König x reader #könig cod #König call of duty #könig mw2 #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig smut #cod konig #mdni #oh boy 10 am time to post filth

[aka-indulgence]

So... me and @llamagoddessofficial have been cooking up an au for a while... let me show you our hmf!Sans :> (Horror Mafiafell Sans)

You're a waitress working at a bar/restaurant, and a certain skeleton has been coming back again and again. You can't help but wonder... why?

---

“He’s all yours, babe.”

You look up from notes on the wall. You’d like to ask ‘who?’ but both you and Lisa know there was no use. You already knew who it was. You didn’t even have to look out the circular window to check. You just stare at Lisa helplessly.

“Really?” You try, “can’t you just… a bit longer?”

Your words come out a perfect mess. Lisa understands anyway.

“Look… I don’t know how to tell you this (Y/n),” She puts a hand on her hip, “you know I can’t go back out there to him.”

“But…!”

You bite your lip. You know she’s telling the truth. You wish you could tell her to suck it up and go back there, no matter how scared she was but… you’re not taking chances with the current patron sitting in the corner of the bar. No one would.

For Lisa’s… and everyone’s sake, you’re not going to see what he might do if you sent her out to tell him that you won’t be serving him tonight.

You sigh, and take a peek through the window. Though elusive nowadays, it was unmistakable who the man- the skeleton in question was.

Sans was built like a tank, his form hunched over the table. Even sitting on the wide, plush red sofa, he looked like a giant, dwarfing the table and chairs like they were playsets. Monsters were already bigger than humans in general but him… he grew bigger than he used to- at least from what you’ve heard. Not like you knew the mob boss years and years ago before he got his infamous skull injury, and the blown eye in his left socket that was soaked in the blood of those who had crossed him. His mouth was set in a frown, filled with razor sharp teeth- one of which was golden.

The same scary face you saw shrouded in shadows in the alleyway, a sharp bone gripped in his large hand, dripping red.

You fled that night, not quite believing what you’d saw. That you’d just saw a skeleton kill a guy in the back of the restaurant? That it was the mob boss Sans?! He didn’t chase you then, and you hoped that’d be the end of it but then… he showed up to the bar as a patron one night.

You were almost certain then, that he had come to kill you. Especially when your dear friend Lisa had so helpfully told you that he’d asked for you in particular.

“her…” his bony finger had pointed at you. She DID tried to save you, to err on mistake- which one did you mean sir?

But every time you moved, his phalange followed. There was no mistaking who he was asking for.

You remember her panicked voice.

“He asked for you! Specifically!”

“W… huh? Why’d he ask for me? Can… are you sure-”

“YES! And I don’t know WHY!”

As reluctant as you were, you still went to serve him. You asked for his order while your grip on your pencil and notepad got slippery as your palms got sweaty. He took his time ordering, perusing through the menu with great attention, while you were praying that your legs didn’t looks as shaky as they felt. You’d never rush him, of course, even if you hadn’t seen him towering over a dead body.

You took his order, served it (stuttering), and… then he left.

… And came back. Again, and again. Every time, he’d ask for you to serve him. He always stares when you weren’t at his table (and actually, when you were at his table too). You could feel that red eye staring a hole into your back from behind. It was unnerving.

It’s a wonder why a man of his infamy would choose a bar like this. You’ve seen your fair share of criminals in this job- it was an alright-sized bar, and not exactly in the best place in town. You’ve learnt to turn the other cheek whenever they were around (and you were sure you didn’t realize just how many of the patrons were gangsters), pretend you were blind to their… occupation.

None of them had been as scary as Sans, though. In fact, his presence alone was enough to drive away most petty criminals.

This place was nothing special. It’s a wonder why he’d choose this place out of all places, especially for a guy who doesn’t like being seen much.

… Ok, that was a lie. Everyone working knew that he was here for you. But that didn’t explain the why.

It was clear to you now that he wasn’t coming here to kill you for witnessing… what you witnessed (Why was a man like Sans doing in that nothing alleyway anyway?). But if not for that then… why did he keep coming, to keep asking for you? Maybe he had… business around here and he liked the place enough to keep coming?

Whatever it was, he was here for a reason and you just… don’t get it.

You don’t get why he wants you to be the one serving him every time he was around, but you did anyway. It’s been a couple of nights now, but you can’t say you’ve become less nervous over time.

After a small inner pep talk to yourself and wringing your hands, you push open the door, walking into the dining area. There isn’t a lot of people inside, a common occurrence whenever Sans visited. Even if it had been busy before, some people would hurriedly finish up whatever they were doing, paying all at once and leaving. You’ve even seen someone stop before finishing their meal. The rest that stayed sat uncomfortably, trying their best to ignore the menacing air that the skeleton brought with him everywhere he’d go.

It didn’t work, of course. A presence like that wasn’t you could easily ignore.

(You wish you could ignore him.)

You smile awkwardly as you walk to his table, setting his drink down. At least you had a little bit of your work cut out for you, with Lisa taking his drink order. His eye zeroed in on you as soon as he noticed you, and though you’ve been taught it’s rude to not make eye contact, with him it felt like looking him in the eye would be the wrong thing to do.

“Is there anything else you’d like?” you ask, your voice sweet and soft as ever, hiding the sound of your beating heart.

He stares.

He always stares.

You see his pupil dilate a little, then he opens his mouth.

“want…”

Sans was a man of few words. He only said his order, and nothing else. It kept your meetings with him brief- even when it looked like he wanted to say something else, he wouldn’t.

This time, he spaces off for a moment, eye looking away from you. You watch his brows draw together, pinched as he concentrates on a thought. You wish you knew what he was thinking of, especially when his frown starts to peel back into a snarl, like he was angry.

You definitely weren’t expecting a hand around your waist, snatching you a second later.

You squeaked, notepad and pencil clattering to the floor, bumping against his sturdy chest. Everyone heard and turned to look, and as soon as they saw tiny you, sitting on the giant’s lap, practically all of them pointedly turned away. You wish they were still looking now- you were pleading with your eyes, help me I don’t think I’m supposed to be here!

He pushes you here and there, so that you’re sat more comfortably on his lap. Your mind goes blank, your body freezes. You could feel his chest expanding and contracting as he breathes. He sounds much calmer now that you were on his lap. Your breaths are shallow, and stop completely when you feel one arm wrap around your middle, like a restraint. His free hand raises, calling for Lisa, who you’ve just noticed is watching from the corner, clutching her apron, as clueless as you are. She approaches, trying to keep her eyes on the skeleton instead of you.

“... burgers.” he says, simply. She nods, and gives you a glance.

You furrow your brows, and you want to hiss Lisa help me! But as soon as she sees your expression she turns around, avoiding eye contact. You could almost hear her say sorry babe, can’t help you there!

You almost call out to her when a hand lands on your head. You go stiff, and after you take a quick peek at him, you look straight ahead. The monster’s phalanges start petting you, slowly, sinking into your hair, scratching your scalp. Sans let’s out a long breath, brushing your hair. A shiver runs down your neck.

… Well. I think I’ll be here for a while…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on the lap of a giant skeleton was certainly an experience. You tried distracting yourself, but it was impossible when you could feel every time Sans breathed. There was nothing you could do but sit there, playing with your apron until it was a crumpled mess, sweating a puddle onto your uniform… and maybe onto Sans’ expensive suit. You couldn’t relax, even though taking away big scary skeleton aside, he was comfortable to sit on, and he was warm… and smelled of rain and embers of a dying cigar.

He ate carefully, always leaning forward (squishing you against his chest) when he took a bite of his burger, making sure the crumbs wouldn’t fall on the top of your head, wiping his hands and his mouth before he leaned back. You could feel him sighing, and since he was the only thing you could notice, it felt like this was the most relaxed he’s ever been while in the bar, his breathing slow. Apparently he really liked your hair, with how his claws kept carding through it, even while he was eating. When his hands were clean, he’d let his hands wander all over you- but nothing untoward. You could feel him tilting his skull forward to look at you, while he thumbed your cheek, and his other hand roamed around your waist and belly. Though you were nervous, you could feel when he rubbed your thigh that it didn’t feel particularly… heated.

He sighs, and you feel the pressure of his skull on the top of your head. It took everything in you not to hunch over and avoid it. You screw your eyes shut when you feel him turn his skull, and it felt like he was… rubbing his cheek on you? Like he was snuggling you? Is… is that what he’s doing?

You’re not sure and your nerves are too frayed to call it that.

He didn’t stop after he finished either, his plate clean. He was still there- and subsequently, you stayed sitting on his lap- even after they closed the bar. It was just him now. Your coworkers kept the lights on just for him, and even most of them have gone.

He’s leaning back on the cushions, and he brought both his arms around you to pull you plush against his chest, almost tucked into his neck. You wondered if this was what a teddy bear would feel like, being hugged.

The bartender was cleaning up in the kitchen. It was just you and him in the dining area.

You swallowed… wondering what he wants to do. It’s past closing, late at night, just the two of you, and his hands were still (gently) rubbing you. They haven’t gone anywhere private but- what if he wanted to? … What if he wasn’t here to kill you but.. wanted you to… you don’t know, service him or something? Did he have unsavory requests for you?

You think that thought might’ve scared you even more than the thought of him killing you.

You startle when he grunts eventually, like he’s addressing you. A giant hand cups your cheeks and against your will they turn pink. Even though you were frightened, even if his touches were unsexual they still felt… intimate.

You squeak for the second time that night when both his hands pick you up, and sets you down on the sofa. You feel a ball form in your throat when he stands up and turns to you, thoughts running with all sorts of ‘what-ifs’. He takes your hand, opening it up, and then…

And then he places a thick wad of cash in it.

“... thank you.” He says, quiet.

You stare at the stack of paper on top of your hand, blinking once, before turning to the skeleton, jumping in your seat.

He was gone, just like that.

He was always quiet, wasn’t he?

You sit there dumbfounded, for what felt like minutes, your lips parted, money still sitting innocently in your hand. You think no one can blame you when the only thing you said after you sat there in silence was a very emphatic “... Huh?”

#cw: blood #cw: murder #only mentioned though #the rest is... kinda soft hjsdf #hes just spooky #sans x reader #aka writing #hmf!sans #i know theres probably a lot of horror+mafia+fell out there jus #this is my (and llama's) rendition #heehe

[cinnamonest]

Can we talk about boobs? 👀 like im wondering if the boys are crazy over em or not since it's like... both intimate and perverted at the same time or one or either

Like it can also be super embarrassing for the reader when she's getting the life sucked out of her tits for like... minutes on end?? Just trying to pry these virgin boys off. It's also not "pleasurable" for either party in the sense that it gets you to climax (unless perhaps we're talking about Albedo who is insane), but if you're a horny yan boy you might not care

The Albedo slander I can't— but you're right he can and will get you to cum from nothing but sucking on your tits, no matter how many tries and experimentation with various substances it takes. Which you find laughable, mockingly tell him that he as an academic should know women don't work like that… until he makes it happen and you eat your words, somehow. It's equally humiliating for you as it is amusing for him… the sly you were saying? as you lay there shivering and panting makes you all flustered, turning your face away to bury into the pillow.

But hear me out — the animal boy club, most of them at least, have a predisposition to titty affinity.

Gorou and Tighnari experience this the most strongly. Stronger primal mammalian instincts mean he has a much stronger drive than a normal human man to very specifically be drawn to indicators of fertility and suitableness for reproduction and healthy offspring. Regardless of size, your breasts automatically send off all the right signals when he lays eyes on them — milk for the offspring, a good breedable mate… it's torturous that they're right there yet human social conventions demand he can't do anything.

Animals don't really have a sense of shame in that regard, so there's less natural inhibition holding him back, he has to make an active effort to remind himself that he can't just walk right up to you and sniff at you, press his face into your chest… the thought of how embarrassing it would be in hindsight is all that's holding him back.

Once things develop, though, and he has you behind closed doors and available, he can't keep his mouth off of them. It feels natural, instinctive, popping your nipple into his mouth and suckling like that for ages — he could keep going forever if you didn't stop him eventually.

The downside of this is that you have to remind them to be careful… it turns out they both have some rather pointy teeth. Dogs have more rounded teeth, but still a powerful biting force that you have to watch out for, whereas fox teeth are much sharper. He's being careful, promise! It's just very easy to get lost in the bliss of the moment and maybe start to nibble a bit too hard, making you jolt and squeal… except the high-pitched sound and the feeling of struggling against him mimics a little prey animal fighting back, and that triggers a whole new set of instincts, now you have much worse problems as you're getting bitten everywhere else, jaw locking down to hold you still as he ruts into you.

Razor has the exact inverse going on. Sure, he's technically not any more naturally inclined towards it than an average human, but his upbringing has long since wired the proclivity into his head. Thing is, with she-wolves, theirs swell outward from the body only once they're pregnant, so for him, seeing human breasts, which are constantly in a state of being pronounced from the rest of the body, might as well be a perpetual onslaught of blatantly provocative imagery.

Unlike the other two, though, he has the exact opposite degree of inhibition. He got the whole “personal space” talk already once or twice, he just… forgets.

However, unfortunately, by the time you meet him, no one has given him the “inappropriate staring” talk yet, so the moment you're introduced by the knights, you see his eyes widen, his head tilts slightly downward, his gaze fixates, and… stays there. No shame, no attempt to conceal what he's looking at, mouth slightly ajar in a dumbstruck stupor. You pause in confusion when he slowly reaches his hand up and out, fingers stretched out as if to grab something, only to be stopped at the last second by one of the knights who spotted the incoming social disaster just in time, grabbing him by the wrist and trying to change the subject with an awkward laugh.

Once he has you to himself, though, he develops a fixation with them. He will come up to you and just sort of… plant his face in the middle, like recharging energy, nuzzling and, to your dismay, sometimes trying to chomp down on them, which you have to actively discourage. During your naps in the sun, you often find yourself waking up to the sudden sucking sensation — and he’s relentless about it too, latching on firmly and refusing to let go. He’s a bit disappointed to learn that no milk comes out, though, at least not yet.

Xiao is the exception to this natural affinity — avians don’t nurse, so it’s a bit of a foreign concept… but the human form is still drawn to it. Except he’s more fond of them for softness, so once he’s more comfortable with touch (which does take a while), he tends to use them as a pillow, opting to rest his head on them for long periods of time. It’s comforting in a way that he can’t really articulate, it just makes him feel at ease.

And then there’s the staring — he’s more accustomed to human norms and social etiquette than Razor, he just sort of… gets distracted for a moment. You just bend forward in just the right way, or perhaps take a bouncing step or come down a flight of stairs, and it just grabs his attention to such an extent that there’s a solid few seconds where he’s left dumbstruck and completely captivated, trailing off anything he was saying, just staring downward in a slack-jawed daze… until you wave your hand in front of his face and he snaps out of it, going fully red in the face. You say you don’t mind, but that only serves to make him more embarrassed…

#.x #.rz #.gr #.tnr

[beskarandblasters]

Good Girls Are Quiet

aka riding the hilt of Din’s vibro-blade like there’s no tomorrow

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: I just want to preface this by saying this is filthy. That is all.

Summary: At the Outlander Club on Coruscant, you try to help Din capture a bounty. But when the bounty makes a move what on belongs to Din, that just won’t do. Din takes you a sleazy motel after and shows you just who you belong to.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), takes place when Din is an apostate, bounty gets handsy with you, possessive!Din, light canon typical violence, brat taming, reader gets “punished”, rough oral sex (M receiving), slapping, cum eating, nipple play, knife kink, riding the hilt of Din’s vibro-blade, daddy kink, helmet comes off, spitting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, use of Mando’a words (cyar’ika = sweetheart), pet names (good girl), no use of y/n

The loud music in the Outlander Club vibrates your entire body, and the smoke hanging in the air fills your lungs. Kriff, this sucks. But it was your idea to help Din distract this bounty. You’re wearing a scantily clad dress, moving through the crowd, and scanning the room for your target; a human male named Colo. You took a good look at his bounty poster before heading inside the club but you’re still going to have to be vigilant. This place is packed and he could easily slip away without you or Din noticing. 

Din’s hanging out off towards the wall to not draw too much attention to himself. He tends to do that everywhere he goes so that’s why you offered to help. And just as your eyes land on the bar, you spot Colo, sitting alone and sipping on revnog.

Now you can set your plan into motion. It’s time to flirt. 

You walk up beside him, resting an elbow on the bar and looking around with wide eyes like you’re lost or something. He notices you out of the corner of his eye and turns towards you.

“You come here often?” he asks, mouth curling into a smirk.

“No,” you say, making your voice a higher pitch, “What about you?”

“I’m a regular, baby. How about I buy you a drink and show you what’s good?

“I think I have an idea about what’s good here,” you wink, internally cringing at yourself.

Maker, please be over soon.

“Oh, really?” he says, picking up what you’re unfortunately putting down. 

He leans forward and rests his hand on your hip, slowly inching towards your ass and squeezing it.

“How about you tell me what that is?”

You open your mouth to respond but before you can, Colo is against the bar with Din pressing his vibro-blade against his neck. It all happened in a blur. The second the hand cupped your ass Din was on the move. 

“Hands off,” he growls. 

But before the fight progresses any further the bartender shouts, “Take that outside! Now!”

You’re frozen, unsure of what to do next until Din grabs your hand and physically drags you out of there. You still can’t grasp how fast all of that happened, keeping your eyes averted to the floor to avoid the stares of the club-goers before stepping outside. 

And now here you are, silently walking the streets of the lower levels. You know Din is fuming underneath his helmet but… What does he have to be mad at you for? You were just trying to help. 

“Din?” you say softly, looking up at him. The neon lights reflect off his armor and you can’t deny he looks sexy right now, especially when he’s mad. You looove to get under his skin even more. You know he likes it when you act like a brat. He can deny it all he wants but you know it’s true.

He doesn’t answer you so you continue.

“I don’t get why you’re mad. I was just trying to help,” you say matter-of-factly, folding your arms and pushing your breasts together. They threaten to spill over the low-cut neckline of your dress. And that’s when he can’t take it anymore. He grabs your hand again and drags you down the street, but he’s going in the opposite direction of the docking yard where the Razor Crest is parked.

“Where are we going?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at the direction you should be going. 

“To teach you a lesson,” he growls, stopping at what looks like a motel, a sleazy one at that. The neon sign is broken, only a few letters lit and one of them flickering. You can’t even read what it says. He pulls you by the hand inside, and the interior is even more abysmal than the exterior. Seedy characters lurk in the shadows of the lobby, staring at you and Din while he drags you to the front desk. You’re so stunned by his actions. Din never does stuff like this. He prefers to sleep in the comfort of the Crest where he’s in control of his surroundings. Not left at the mercy of whatever goes on at night in this sleazy motel.

You don’t question it when he gets a room for tonight, anxious to see where the night takes you. 

“Room one hundred and three. Down the hallway on your right.”

He takes the room key from the front desk worker and heads down the hallway, the lights flickering above you. He stops at a door, unlocks it, and shoves you inside. As soon as the door is closed he presses you up against it, bringing his helmet by your ear.

“Do you know why you need to be punished?” he growls, a hand sliding up your waist.

“...No.”

“Really?” he says with a low chuckle, “Maybe I need to help you remember.”

He grabs you by the waist and drags you over to the bed, setting you down on the edge. He stands in front of you, the bulge in his flight suit directly in your face. He grabs your chin, angles your face up towards his visor, and says, “Now, cyar’ika. Tell me why you’re getting punished.”

You try to look at the bulge that’s so close to your face by moving your head slightly. But he grips your chin tighter and teases you, “Nope. Eyes up here, slut.”

“For… for flirting with that guy at the club.”

“That’s right. I think you need to be reminded about who you belong to.”

You gulp and the hand not holding your chin pulls his cock free from his flight suit. 

“Be a good girl and suck my cock,” he says, pulling you towards his groin. You open your mouth wide and keep your tongue flat, taking his length in your mouth. He thrusts back into you, forcing his cock down your through as far as it’ll go. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes but you keep going, trying your best to be a good girl for him. His hands move to either side of your face as you bob your head up and down. 

You look up at him and his visor is fixed on you, watching his cock moving in and out of your mouth.

“You like sucking daddy’s cock?” he says, slapping you across the face. 

You moan in response, sending vibrations down his length. He curses under his breath and slams into you harder. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore he cums down the back of your throat, holding your head flush against his groin. 

“Take all of daddy’s cum like a good girl,” he commands, wiping away a tear on your cheek. 

He finally releases your head and you catch your breath. Wiping away the cum leaking from your lips you ask, “My turn?”

“Not quite,” he teases, reaching forward and pulling the comforter off the bed. You watch as he grabs his vibro-blade from his boot, activating it and plunging it through the mattress. You let out a gasp, in shock that he just ruined this motel’s mattress. 

“Din, what did you-”

“You can sit on that,” he says sternly.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You look at the blade vibrating inside the mattress and gulp before stripping your clothes and getting on the bed. You straddle the hilt of the vibro-blade, hovering over it. He moves behind you, reaching forward and cupping his hand under your mouth. 

“Spit,” he commands.

You do as you’re told, spitting into the palm of the glove. He rubs your saliva on the hilt, lubricating it for you to sit on. You take a deep breath and lower yourself on it, feeling the vibrations throughout your core. 

“Fuck yourself on it,” he says, hand returning to your chin. 

You rock your hips back and forth, just as Din’s other hand caresses the outline of your breast. He pinches your nipple between his fingertips eliciting a loud moan from you. The hand on your chin clamps down on your mouth. 

“Good girls are quiet,” he reminds you. 

You nod and let out a soft whimper, continue to fuck yourself on the hilt. 

“You have to cum on this first. Show me you’re worthy of daddy’s cock,” he continues, growling directly in your ear. He releases your mouth to take off his helmet and set it on the bed. He grabs your chin and angles your head up to face him. You catch a glimpse of him, his curls matted and his skin glistening with a layer of sweat. There’s a truly dark and primal look in his eye, watching as you writhe against him.

“Open,” he commands. 

You open wide and stick your tongue out, just as he spits directly into your mouth. Just for him to clamp it shut again and return his hand over it, making you stay quiet. 

With one last grind of your hips, the hilt is buried even deeper into you, and you can’t hold on any longer. You whimper against his gloved hand, trying to signal you’re gonna cum soon. You’re worried that if you don’t ask for permission somehow he’ll deny you your release. 

“Gonna cum?” he says, amusement in his voice. 

You whimper some more and nod incessantly. 

“Soak it.”

You cum around the hilt, your walls fluttering around the vibrating metal. You feel your wetness seep out of you, running down your thighs and onto the sheets. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, slowly releasing your nipple from his fingertips. He removes his hand from your mouth and pushes you forward so you’re on your hands and knees. The hilt slips out of you as you stick your ass up in the air for him, getting ready to take his cock. 

Din hooks his hands on your hips, aligning himself with your soaking wet cunt. He thrusts into you in one clean motion, cursing under his breath before pounding into you unforgivingly. 

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you moan out.

“Who?”

“I belong to you, daddy!” you cry out. 

“Good girl, that’s right. Daddy owns this cunt, huh?”

“Yes, daddy. It’s all yours!” you cry out again, just as he slams into you with the most force he’s used so far. You cum around his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him. He cums inside you with his cock pressed right up against your cervix, letting out a guttural moan. He pulls out of you when he’s done and you fall forward, collapsing onto the bed. The vibro-blade is still impaled in the mattress. He pulls it out and deactivates it, leaning forward and hovering over you.

“Do you understand why you were punished now?”

“Yes, daddy,” you sigh. 

“You had a big night, mesh’la. Get some rest,” he says softly, lying down beside you and rubbing your back. 

Just before sleep overtakes you, you whisper, “I don’t know… Maybe I need to act up again.”

“Oh there’s no maybe,” he chuckles, “You’ll act up again. But that just means I have to keep reminding you that you’re mine.”

“Sounds good to me,” you whisper, drifting off to sleep under Din’s touch. 

-

You wake up the next morning and get ready to check out of the motel room, weirdly missing it already. But just as you turn to leave the building, one of the housekeeping employees stops Din.

“Sir?”

Oh, this is definitely about the mattress.

You both turn around to face the worker, an older woman who seems nice enough. She continues, “I don’t want to know how exactly the mattress was damaged. But we can’t let you leave until you pay a fee.”

“Okay…” Din says awkwardly.

She leads you to the front desk and lets the employee stationed there handle the transaction. The woman whispers something in the other employee’s ear. You can only catch bits and pieces of what she said but definitely something about a weird stain on the mattress by the puncture mark. You look over at Din, who's staring directly at you. You’re sure he’s shooting daggers with his eyes under the helmet. Yeah, you’re definitely not coming back here again.

The woman sets off down the hallway to finish cleaning the mess you and Din made, just as the front desk employee says, “That’ll be six hundred credits.”

Six hundred credits.

Din grabs credits from his pocket and hastily sets them on the counter before grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the motel.

As soon as you’re back out on the street he says, “See what happens when you act up?”

“You’re the one who stabbed the bed,” you say, folding your arms.

“You're going to end up costing me a fortune,” he sighs.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” you tease.

He doesn’t deny it, of course.

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[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

These Nimona headcanons are kinda angsty cause I’m bored

I think it’s a genuine shock for Ambrosius when he finally realizes he gets to make his own choices

Sometimes it’s small things like choosing to grow his hair out and stop bleaching it and what he eats that day

And sometimes it’s bigger things like what he’s going to do with the privilege he was born with and what he wants to do with the rest of his life 

He was probably raised to believe that his voice and his body weren’t his own and all of his choices should benefit his family

And because of that he kind of has a little bit of an identity crisis 

One night Bal woke up to the sound of an electric razor and he went to go check it out cause he assumed Nimona was experimenting with their hair at 3 am again 

He was kind of shocked to find Nimona shaving Ambrosius’ hair while he sat crying in the bathtub 

But he didn’t question it he just sat next to him and held his hand while he went through a lot of complicated emotions 

I feel like it takes a while for Bal to stop acting like he’s on the run

When situations get stressful he’ll eat like he’s rationing 

If there is a controversial time in the kingdom he’ll leave the house with his cloak even when it’s 100 degrees outside 

It took him a long time to get back into his hobbies because he wanted to keep his belongings small and portable 

And it takes a lot of time and even more help to finally recognize those habits and break them

And it’s made twice as hard because Nimona has the same habits and will subconsciously fall into them 

Which sucks because after being on the run for so long all she wants to do is settle down for a very long time 

The trio also has massive trust and abandonment issues 

It takes a long time for Nimona to trust anyone that isn't Bal or Ambrosius   

If he does let someone in and they betray him he doesn't even think about giving them a second chance 

But it always hits him hard and it takes him a while to recover 

Bal is very wary of maternal figures in his life

He also doesn’t trust anyone from the institute/nobles as far as he can throw them (except Ambrosius obvi)

Ambrosius also has that same distrust and every time he goes to work he acts like he’s walking on eggshells

But he knows he has to be there to fix the problems his ancestors caused 

But their trust issues are nothing compared to their abandonment issues 

The first couple of months living together were tricky

Because they all have abandonment issues but they’re also very independent people

After a while they all figured out it was best to communicate where they are most times 

Even if it’s incredibly mundane and feels stupid to announce to a group of people “I’m going to work” when they leave for the day

It just put the rest of them at ease

So Nimona will leave notes before they go on their little solo trips

And Bal will call if he’s going to pick up supplies and won't be in the lab for a while

Ambrosius will text them to say he’s caught in another meeting so they’ll just have to eat dinner without him

Even with these steps they all have their bad days and sometimes those bad days sync up

Mostly on anniversaries of big events like the knighting ceremony, or the day the wall fell

And on those days they decide to take care of themselves and each other by sitting in the living room all cuddled up and watching stupid movies to cheer them up

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #if I start thinking about the fact that Ambrosius was raised like a child celebrity and probably had no bodily autonomy I'll start crying #they all make me so sad #because they're so sad #who let my babies be sad

[comradekatara]

okay, so I did just spend the entire day watching NATLA. I had no choice but to watch this all in one sitting with my friends because I knew that if I attempted to watch it alone, or in increments, I would simply never get past episode 1. and I was right. it, of course, sucked so bad. I intend to write an actual, articulate review of the show as a whole when I have time, but for now, here is a list of the notes I jotted down on my phone (including some quotes from my friends as we watched), cinema sins style (pluses indicate details I actually liked, however minuses are far more frequent; points I considered especially significant are bolded).

– NO COLON to signify the central tension of the entire show!!!

Episode 1:

+ Love Aang’s eyebrows, just a very cute kid in general

+ opening fight scene kind of serves

– Sozin does NOT

– This clunky exposition is so strange considering they clearly already assume we are familiar with the entire show

– What’s going on with Kyoshi (ie, where is Roku)

– Where is Katara narrating????

– Hideous fonts

+ AANG SO CUTE <3 (he’s giving Dewey!)

– He can just fucking fly without his glider I guess?

– Airbenders saying wow at airbending (ding!)

– Aang’s uggs

– Sky bison…… L (update: I lowkey came around on Appa, but only bc Momo was so fucking busted he looked incredible by contrast)

– Gyatso’s mustache L (update: many such cases going forward)

– What’s going on with the accents???

– Aang cannot fucking act for shit I’m so sorry to this adorable baby boy

– Depicting a literal genocide as an action scene. Fucking awful

– Aang actually trying to head back during the storm defeats the whole point of the whole inciting incident of his entire arc????

+ Waterbending Avatar State sequence in the storm actually looks cool

– I hate White Sokka

– I hate shein Katara

– They do NOT act like siblings

– I hate White Sokka

– Where is Katara I miss you baby girl

– ZUKO’S SCAR IS AWFUL

– Katara has no agency or passion or rage or emotion whatsoever?!!?!?

– Acting is SO BAD

+ Clunky exposition works for Zuko because he does have a propensity for monologuing all his intentions

– Sokka, however, does NOT

– How can Sokka be “the last man” of the Southern Water Tribe if there are like. Dozens of other guys only ever so slightly younger than him just standing around.

– Kanna just saying Katara’s monologue because Katara is a nothing

– WHY DO FIREBENDERS KEEP ATTACKING AT NIGHT

– Clunky ass exposition “he had to grow up fast” give me a fucking break

– Who the fuck is this white guy

– Katara has no motivations at all?? She’s just chopped liver I guess

– The cadence of every actor is so bad

– They can’t decide whether they want to be the cartoon or their own thing and instead they’re just nothing

Episode 2:

– KANNA JUST GIVES HER THE SCROLL?!?!? KATARA DOESNT GET TO SHOPLIFT. OR DO ANYTHING

– MILF ALERT!!!!

– I hate you straight nepobaby suki

– She’s so fucking weird

– White Sokka has a bad face and a good body. He should have a strikingly beautiful face and a scrawny, malnourished body. L

– Aang being afraid to airbend makes no sense

– Where is Sokka’s fucking Kyoshi Warrior feminization!!!!

– Sexist ass show

– STOP IT KYOSHI STOOOOPPPPP #NotMyKyoshi

Episode 3:

– This one rebel leader guy is giving Katara more than Katara

– Why are the colors so bland

– Sokka being scientifically minded makes no sense bc that trait (which, um, is actually quite crucial to his character) hasn’t actually been established at all up until this point (or retained beyond this one episode)

– This guy is giving jock who happens to be good at engineering, when Sokka should be a NERD who HAPPENS to be good at FIGHTING

– Azula and Mai are NOT GIVING

– Azula should present as sure of herself and incredibly poised. It’s actual crucial to reflecting how she has been shaped by abuse

– And Mai should be razor sharp (both physically and figuratively) and not give a fuck about any of this!!!

+ Katara hitting herself in the face was funny

– Redemption for beautiful Jet (my friend: “I love seeing a beautiful man die”)

– Freedom Fighters are GIVINGGG

– How can Kya “watch the sun rise every day” if they literally live in the South Pole

– They don’t understand Sokka’s daddy issues AT ALL. The simple fact that he’s actually communicating them is egregious

– The first time Katara actually gets angry is for Jet. But not even for the right reasons.

– The first exchange that Katara and Sokka have that makes any sense is in ep THREE (of 8)

– “Sokka was right. You are the bad guy.” WHO WROTE THIS 😭😭

– Jet is only going after the corrupt and collaborators…. So, um… he’s literally right???

+ The fight between Aang and Zuko is actually SO GOOD and understands their dynamic (sidenote: they’re the only kids who are actually giving their original characters at all)

+ Aang reading Zuko’s diary is so fucking funny

+ I love you Danny Pudi <3

Episode 4:

+ I love the interior of Bumi’s palace. Statues of Flopsy

– Omashu is in India now I guess and also everyone in the world lives here

– Bumi’s hat!?!?

+ The nomads sound like Fleet Foxes

– Katara and Sokka are literally switching roles in this tunnel

+ This one Earth Kingdom soldier is really serving.

– The fact that he’s ostensibly framed as in the wrong here though is INSANE

– Zuko is supposed to be ten here 😭 that’s a grown ass man with a BA in Econ

– Sokka’s necklace is plastic

– Katara and Sokka being like “we never used to fight at home” ……. WTF!?!?

– KATARA WOULD NEVER SAY THAT TO SOKKA SHE WOULD BEAT HIS ASS INTO THE GROUND EVEN IF HE WAS RIGHT

– Adults keep being so mean to Aang :((

+ Zuko’s hair is great

+ I like that Bumi gave Aang his bison whistle(?)

– Bumi’s anger is….interesting

Episode 5:

– Canonically 13 year old Zuko is also a grown ass man

– “How was I supposed to know she was a Fire Nation soldier” ummmmmm maybe due to your INSTINCTS and CONSTANT PARANOIA

– They keep alluding to escapades offscreen without actually depicting any of their grounded bonding moments so we have no reason to care about any of these characters whatsoever or their relationships with one another

– Sokka good with kids and names??? Preposterous

– Zuko kinda gay asf

– Zuko calling someone an idiot and Sokka never once does . Sounds fake

– Oppressed peoples are just a mouthpiece for oppression instead of real human beings

– Instragram ass makeup

– Aang isn’t having any fun

– Aang feels like he has no agency whatsoever because he only ever does what the adults around him tell him to do and never does anything of his own accord. Let him have a sillygoofy time!!!

– Constant clunky exposition and no understanding of its own narrative… it’s truly like if ATLA … was LOK.

+ JUUUUNE

– Hitting on Iroh for #feminism

– “I always thought I was spiritually attuned. I don’t know how he got in here though” is actually so Katara. Finally an actual Katara moment

– Wan Shi Tong goofy asf Guardians of Ga’Hoole ass CGI monstrosity

– What is with Sokka’s fucking white people references (all you need is love, bye bye birdie, etc). White devil I need him dead

– Sexy Kitsune for the furries

– Fox accuses him of making jokes to deflect “What? I don’t do that” WELL. HE DOESNT IN THIS VERSION!!! (Alluding to a character trait that they don’t actually depict is crazy. He literally says everything he’s feeling at all times in this and barely ever says anything witty. It’s like they’re TAUNTING us.)

– Kya sounds like she’s from the Upper East Side

– Why won’t they let Katara DO anything!!!

– Too economical with their storytelling leads to no real depth whatsoever

– Putting Katara’s flashback in Book 1 undermines the whole point of TSR

– I HATE YOU WHITE HAKODA

– If Sokka is so bad at ice dodging in this then why did they give him the mark of the wise ??????? None of this scene makes sense

– Why is Sokka CRYING (he doesn’t DO that)

– Koh looks so bad

– Aang doesn’t actually know how to fight Koh he’s just such a wooden actor that he happens to get away with it

– First Roku mention????? Lmfao

– Gyatso talking to Aang is so wack but at least he’s being nice to him

Episode 6 (aka the best episode by far):

+ Zuko just drawing an eye on the page is so real actually

– Azula’s flames aren’t even blue

– And she’s not mysterious or imposing at all!

– I HATE the makeup in the show

– The pacing is AWFUL and STUPID, no consideration as to WHY information is revealed when it is narratively/thematically

+ Okay he’s really giving Zuko lmfao

+ Ken Leung has made Zhao feel like a real person (but no one else is doing that ???)

– Low-budget fantasy C-dramas have costumes one million times better than this.

– What is with Iroh’s obsession with boats

– Quirked up old man Roku

– Zuko flashbacks don’t read as significant because his scar is nothing and he’s the same age

+ Aang and Zhao scene is great

+ I’d follow Zhao into battle

– Other friend: “This is the best episode so far and it’s because Katara and Sokka aren’t in it”

+ Blue Spirit mask actually looks like a theater mask

+ Using the original Blue Spirit theme!!

+ This episode actually slays

– Their commentary on narrativization is solely relegated to Zhao and no one else gets to participate in this thematic conversation, not even KATARA

+ I love the sassy gay scribe

+ LADDERS SCENEEEEE

+ Zuko canonically having good handwriting is so real

+ Aang and Zuko conversation is great

– Why does Aang keep assuming Zuko is compassionate and wounded when he hasn’t displayed any compassion, remorse, or pain

– Iroh stepping into the Agni Kai goes against his whole character

+ Ozai kind of rules tho

– WHY IS ZUKO ACTIVELY FIGHTING OZAI!!!!!!!!

– Zuko’s backstory makes no sense

+ Zuko’s thotty little collarbone

– Ozai’s scene here undermines the whole point of Zuko’s banishment

– Such bad dialogue it’s crazy

– How do the 41st division not know why they’ve been on this boat for the past 3 years when every piece of dialogue in this show is otherwise expository as fuck

– What’s the point of Gyatso leaving. They don’t explain it at all

Episode 7:

– The NWT is so grey and underwhelming. My favorite location in the whole show. Can’t have shit in Netflixworld.

– BECAUSE AANG JUST HAS VISIONS OF THE FUTURE NOW I GUESS

– PAKKU AND YUE LOOK SOOOOO BAD

– Yue looks like a Euphoria character in a party city wig

– This isn’t how Azula fights!!!

– I hate what they’re doing with Azula so bad

– Mai sucks too

– Their journey doesn’t feel earned at all because they didn’t hang out or learn anything or do shit

– Why is Yue in the kitchens if she’s a princess

– And why is she WATERBENDING

– Why isn’t she repressed!!!!! She shouldn’t BE “ordinary”

– Why is Sokka explaining his duties!!!! He doesn’t SAY SHIT!

– Why isn’t the guy playing Hahn playing Sokka and vice versa (I’m so fucking serious)

– YUE’S A FOX????? WHAT

– All the offscreen battles where we’re supposed to assume character development actually happened. Sure.

– Hahn being nice and respectful to Sokka makes no sense

– MILF Yugoda! (How would she know Kanna. Update: I guess that doesn’t even matter here )

– THEY DONT UNDERSTAND YUE OR HAHN OR WHAT PATRIARCHY IS. AT ALL

– Kuruk is too serious and Roku is too playful. It should be the reverse. Playing into racist tropes :/

– His eyes are way too blue I’m sorry to this man

– They all look like they know what iPhones are.

– Yue is so annoying . L

– This whole Yue Sokka scene is the most annoying thing I’ve ever fucking seen in my life. And entirely antithetical to their whole deal

– “My friends” this “my friends” that, except they never actually hang out. They just keep calling each other friends but they never actually show it in a believable way.

– They want to be edgy but they actually never fucking shut up about the power of friendship like we are all five years old. I think when they said they were “appealing to a Game of Thrones audience” what they really meant was just that they are also bad, incredibly misogynistic writers who depict sensitive topics without any care or nuance.

– I actually like the Fire Nation boats

– Zhao is working with Azula??? She wouldn’t KILL THE MOON

– Azula would never ask Ozai to do things she would wait for his command at all times!!!

– Since when is Sokka wise and emotionally mature enough to hold this conversation with Katara, and why isn’t Katara being impulsive. This fight is so planned out; all the excitement is lost.

– Her completely blank expression as Pakku humiliates her. I hate you SHEIN KATARA!!!!!!

– This fight is so dull and lame whereas in the original that fight scene literally changed my life as a kid????? #NotMyKatara

– “The Legend of Aang” EW

– Why isn’t Aang waterbending at all. Book 1: “talking about water in completely abstract, hypothetical terms”

Episode 8:

– Iroh telling Zuko how to break into the North Pole is undermining the one moment where he actually demonstrates his intelligence as an independent person

– Stupid ass liberal feminism I hate you

– So they are sexist but also not. Makes sense

– What the fuck is with this moon backstory shit. Who needed that

– Zhao going to the Fire Temple instead of Wan Shi Tong’s Library for info on the moon completely undermines the point about the role of knowledge in imperialist conquest

– Kuruk looks like a Star Wars force ghost

+ THEY KILLED MOMO (kind of made me laugh a lot, so… points for that I guess)

– But they could only feature him for all of five seconds bc they don’t have the budget to constantly animate his mangy rat ass

– Why is Yue helping MOMO instead of ACTUAL HUMAN BEINGS

– They want me to believe that White Sokka has compassion for that little rat when I simply do not believe that this man cares for anyone or anything or even has a soul.

+ Zuko and Aang’s situationship/chemistry is crazy. They’re both kind of slaying actually

– That said, the kid who plays Aang is not a very good actor, he’s just adorable and has big ears and a Dewey voice. And the kid who plays Zuko has the easiest acting job in the show because Zuko is actually so over the top and dramatic that overacting feels authentic to this one character in particular (and no one else).

– Bending fights look stupid and feel thematically insignificant

– This red filter looks so bad

– Why do they keep dragging out fast paced scenes to explain everything so that they’re now boring af

– Hahn is just……. Okay go off woke feminist king. Sure. Why not

– All the exposition is so clunky and slow and undermining the actual point of the scene

– Not only is this not visually interesting, it also doesn’t translate tonally, and the primary actors can’t pull it off

– So NOW Iroh kills Zhao. Okay

– Zhao wouldn’t respect a teenage girl this much, even if she is the princess

– Koizilla looks bad :(

– RIP Ken Leung the Cunt Slayer. 5ever in our hearts </3

+ It’s actually so funny that Ken Leung apparently didn’t even know what he was auditioning for because he was by far the best actor in this show and nearly singlehandedly redeemed it. I love this guy so much.

– Me: “This isn’t a show. This is a farcical simulacrum of real art.” Friend, far more concisely: “This is a fucking joke.”

– Katara and Sokka barely even seem like they care about each other. Look at how they massacred by boy (and girl)

– Yue and Sokka alluding to fucking offscreen WOULD be a slay if they weren’t both annoying as fuck…

– Oh so NOW Katara talks Aang down from the Avatar State. Yeah. I buy that.

– “You’re not just the Avatar you’re my family” really? Because you’ve barely even talked

– The sequencing and pacing of the Siege of the Noth was nonsensical.

– “My daughter always made her own choices” NO SHE FUCKING DIDNT!!!!! THE WHOLE POINT OF HER CHARACTER. WAS THAT SHE COULDN’T!!! Shallow fucking libfem bullshit they MASSACRED my girl!!!!!!

– Why is Arnook comforting Sokka when Sokka should be comforting HIM

– Also Sokka would never express his insecurities to Arnook in the first place. NOT MY REPRESSED KING????

– Why is Sokka giving emotional support and Katara giving tactical support -_-

– They really think that “Gotta let go of the past to have a future” is such a fucking smart line they used it twice

– Conquering Omashu wasn’t a STRATEGY it just happened CONCURRENTLY because their imperialist regime is incredibly powerful … This show doesn’t understand its own politics at all.

– Azula has no poise or swag smh

– Aang doesn’t even know about Sozin’s comet because Roku didn’t tell him…

– It’s crazy that a show written in the 2020s is actually SO MUCH more sexist than a show written in the 2000s.

– TDLR; I hate you capitalism, I hate you Netflix, I hate you White Sokka, I hate you SHEIN Katara, I hate you heterosexual nepobaby Suki, I hate you girlboss Yue, I hate you visibly insecure Azula, I hate you whatever is going on with Mai, I hate you CGI Momo, I hate you wack ass pacing, I hate you clunky, idiotic dialogue, I hate you complete and utter lack of consideration into what made this show great in the first place, I love you Danny Pudi, I love you Ken Leung.

Which, in fairness, is all pretty much exactly what I expected this show would be. But at least actually watching it did indeed verify all my assumptions (although what they did to Katara specifically was even worse than what I had assumed, dear god), so I will be writing up a more in-depth review soon so that I can actually try to unpack why this show is such a dumpster fire, and how that reflects larger trends in media. But for now, all I can say is, I can’t believe I sat through 8 hours of this fucking garbage knowing it would be bad and it was. I’ve been saying this show would suck ass since the second it was announced, and yet it somehow managed to still prove worse than even my incredibly pessimistic expectations. A soulless, shallow, offensive work of profit that cannot even attempt to justify its own existence. I need to kill White Sokka with hammers.

#natla #‘’spoilers’’ under the cut #lmfao #in the immortal words of bloodbenderz: ‘it was bad’

[depravitycentral]

Haikyuu Dick Headcannons Pt. 3

Ft. the Seijoh men (Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Issei Matsukawa, Takahiro Hanamaki, Kentarou Kyoutani, Yuutarou Kindaichi, Akira Kunimi)

Tw: implied yandere, implications of stalking, lots of talk about cum, masturbation, oral, praise, a sprinkle of degradation, PSA Oikawa cries during sex, very slight misogyny in Kunimi's, fem reader, MDNI

Tooru’s cock is, just like the rest of him, pretty. It’s pale, slender, rigidly straight with a perfectly shaped bulbous tip that always makes this lewd schmuck noise when he pulls out of you. As he gets closer to coming his tip gets a little pink, but it’s nothing compared to the flush sitting high on his cheeks, or the rosy red of his lips. He’s got a single vein that runs along his underside, so it doesn’t marr the smooth appearance but still gives you that extra bit of stimulation when he’s fucking you. It’s just an overall outstanding cock, and he knows it, too - he’s confident in his body in general, but this is particularly true in the context of his penis. He takes good care of himself, shaving and making sure to use expensive oils and lotions to minimize any ingrown hairs or razor burns. He even uses a special genital cologne, just to make sure he smells good too. (The scent is one he thinks you’d like - he’d brought you to a perfumery one time as a joke because he thought seeing you scrunch your nose at some of the smellier ones was entertaining, but he’d been keeping note of which ones you’d found agreeable when he shoved them at you.) He’s not terribly sensitive - particularly when you’re sucking him off, because while it feels amazing to have your lips wrapped around him, he’s gotten enough head through his life that he’s just jaded and too used to it to find it especially pleasurable. But being inside you? That’s a different story - he hasn’t actually fucked that many women, and as a result the moment he slips inside you for the first time he’s gasping, his eyes blowing wide and this strangled, vulnerable little noise coming from his throat. He still takes a while to come, but he’ll gasp and murmur praise in your ear the entire time he’s thrusting into you, because you just feel so good and warm and tight. 

He’s a shooter, and it makes this perfect, porn-worthy little arc as he throws his head back and moans your name. He doesn’t produce much in terms of volume, but it’s pretty runny, so it’ll often feel like there’s more there than there really is. His cum is very smooth; there’s no lumps or globs, and when he rubs it against your skin (because he likes seeing you covered in it, and he claims it’s good for your skin - rich in nutrients and makes you glow) it almost feels like a thin lotion. When he comes his whole body freezes up, every muscle going taut and tensing up as the pleasure overwhelms him. He’s still for a moment, but after the first initial wave he’s suddenly moving like a madman, his hips bobbing and thrusting wildly and unpredictably, desperate to get any last bit of pleasure they possibly can. He’s always clutching onto you, too, like he needs to ground himself or else he’ll get carried away by the pleasure. (This often leads to finger shaped bruises appearing on your hips and ass, sometimes even your breasts, and while he’s apologetic about it, he doesn’t feel bad.) He makes this high, airy sort of moan when he’s coming, and his eyes always shut tightly, his thin brows scrunching together and his mouth morphing into a sort of grimace. He looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not - it feels so, so very good, and he’s just trying to stop himself from moaning something stupid or crying. (He does cry sometimes, if the sex is particularly emotionally charged - the first time you tell him you love him gets him sobbing as he bends your knees up to your chin, plugging you full with his cock, and kissing you the whole time, whispering to you in a strained, broken moan I love you I love you I love you, fuck tell me you love me again-)

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you’re simply good for him, taking his cock and letting him do as he pleases with you. He likes when you’re receptive to his touches, and ideally you’d be spread out before him on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your fingers alternating between running through his brown locks and scratching down his back when you’re getting close. He likes the way your cunt flutters around him, your walls rubbing him and massaging his length in a way that makes him breathless, and sometimes his arms even go a bit weak and he nearly falls down on top of you because you just feel too damn good. He likes when you thrust your hips in time with his, trying to get him in deeper and feel him to a much fuller extent. It makes him feel wanted, like he’s doing a good job of pleasuring you, and if you moan? Tooru’s gone, burying his face into your neck and moving from the languid, sensual pace he’d been fucking you at to a more purposeful, calculated one, aiming for that spot he knows you love with every snap of his hips. He especially likes it when you come on his cock - the way you clench down on him makes him light headed, and sometimes - when your orgasm is powerful enough - you squeeze him hard enough to force him out of your cunt, his cock still swollen and throbbing, your slick coating him while he watches you fall apart below him. He likes the way you spasm around him, and more often than not it lulls him into his own orgasm, spurting cum into you and gasping your name with his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple. He just really, really likes when you willingly pull him closer and encourage him to fuck you deeper; it’s a surefire way to get him breathless and crying out your name.

He’s solidly five and a half inches, with dark hairs framing his base and naval. It’s the perfect shape, with a slight curve upwards that hits you just right when he’s got you spread out on your back, bulbous tip ramming into that spot over and over again. It’s incredibly easy to arouse him - his cock’s got a mind of its own, and often there’s blood rushing south from the slightest things, like you licking your lips (he can’t not imagine how they’d look around his length) or mindlessly playing with your fingers (they’d look so small against him, running along his chest and gripping around his cock; he bets you couldn’t even touch your fingers when you grip him). He gets hard embarrassingly quickly, and stays hard, even if he desperately tries to get rid of it. This causes quite a few awkward moments when he’s around you, and he tries to wear baggier pants whenever there’s a chance you might be present - just because every encounter with you more often than not leads to him popping a boner at least twice. He’s moderately sensitive, and particularly likes when you give his tip and base attention at the same time. He likes when you suckle at the head and lap your tongue up and down his slit, all while your fingers massage and grope at the juncture between his shaft and his pelvis. It makes him shudder, eyebrows drawing together, and gets his hips bucking forward slightly. Especially if you rub at the spot right above where his balls and shaft meet - it makes him actually growl. 

His cum is thick and pretty bitter, landing on your tongue and leaving a residue like thick oil. The taste is hard to get out of your mouth, unfortunately, and when you tell Hajime this he’ll immediately feel guilty for how much he likes to finish down your throat. After that, every time you suck him off he’ll come on your face - he justifies it as being less invasive of your wishes, and because it seems to actually be good for your skin. (One time you’d had a nasty pimple, and after a spurt of his cum landed on it, the next morning it disappeared.) It’s okay, though, because his favorite place to come is actually on you, specifically on your pussy. He likes pulling out at the last minute and finishing himself off, watching as cum dribbles onto your pretty lips, making an absolute mess out of you and leaving you all sticky and warm. He’ll run his fingers through it sometimes, staring with this look of awe, intensely enough that you’ll get embarrassed. His ultimate, though, is when your spread your lips for him, exposing your quivering, swollen little hole, and he comes all over that - it’s dirty, taboo, and it makes his possessive urges towards you calm down a bit because now you’re marked as his, and anyone else can see the globs of his cum that are pressed up right against your most sensitive, intimate area. Of course, though, if you want him to come inside, he’ll never say no. He’s a gasper, his breath always getting caught when he’s fucking you. When he first shoves himself inside, he’s gasping lowly and biting his lip, trying to control himself and hold back the orgasm that’s already dangerously close. He’s not too terribly vocal for the most part, but when he gets close to coming he’s stuttering out your name, each syllable punctuated with a grunt and a gasp, until eventually he’s coming, his eyes blowing wide and a strained slur of your name falling from his lips. He stares the whole time, unwilling to look away, and it’s not until the oversensitivity overwhelms him that he lets the moment end.

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s giving himself a pussy job, using - of course - you. In general, he’s utterly fascinated by your cunt - he’s always staring at it, and although he’s certainly no virgin, there’s something about your folds, specifically, that makes him salivate. He’s always trying to rut his cock against you, obsessed with the feeling of the most intimate part of you touching the most intimate part of him, and he wants nothing more than to have you spread out before him, your eyes blown wide and legs spread for him, pretty body on display for him as he fists his cock. He wants to run his tip through your folds, to collect all your slick and wetness at his head, watching the way it mixes with his own pre, leaving him a sticky, wet mess that shines and gleans in the light. He’ll grip himself at the base, harshly exhaling as he runs himself slowly, so damn slowly, up and up, letting himself dip deeper inside every few centimeters, just enough to tease both him and you. He’ll run himself all the up to your clit, muttering out a curse as his tip draws circles against your little nub, his slit feeling so sensitive and needy that it makes him crazy. When he’s doing this, he tends to murmur your name a lot, growls of how pretty you look, amazed comments of how you’re already so wet for him, and curses of how fucking tiny your little pussy are always slipping past his lips. He’s amazed by how he can possibly fit inside you - you look so small and tight, and his cock looks much too big in comparison, and the idea of stretching you out gets him gulping, his cock visibly throbbing. Eventually he’ll cave and shove himself in, apologizing through grunts that he just can’t hold himself back anymore, that he can’t keep teasing himself, that he needs to be inside you and feeling how warm and wet and perfect you are. He’ll come very quickly after doing this - it only takes a few minutes, and soon he’s groaning your name and spilling inside of you, spurts of hot, thick cum plugging you up while he breathes in your scent and basks in you.

He’s a tall man, and his cock reflects that - it’s long, easily six and a half inches, hanging so heavily between his legs that even when he’s fully hard, swollen and practically begging to sink itself inside of you, it’s only standing at about 120 degrees, too weighed down by it’s own size to fully stand up. He’s not especially thick, but he’s veiny, with the raised skin criss-crossing and feeling perfect when they rub up against your spongy, sensitive walls. He’s not too terribly sensitive, but he likes steady, consistent pleasure stimulation, like a constant pace when he’s fucking you, or when you bob your head steadily, tongue lapping at his underside with fervor. His tip is always a darker shade than the rest of his shaft, the color matching his balls, and Issei particularly likes when you pay attention to those two areas. He’s extremely sensitive when it comes to any sort of stimulation to his balls, and the moment that your fingers brush them or your tongue flicks at them, he’s groaning, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tells you to do that again, angel, fuck just like that. He likes when you suck on them, trying to fit as much of each one into your mouth as you can, and just the sight of your lips wrapped around one while you suck and thumb at his tip with your hand makes his head spin, his orgasm drawing closer and closer at an alarming rate. He has a thing for making you kneel below him, and he really likes to be the one standing over you - there’s something about the power dynamic that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life, and when you look up at him all sultry and dirty like that, it takes everything in him to not force your lips apart and fuck your throat like an animal. (And sometimes, the urge is too strong - you’re left with a bruised throat and a hoarse voice, but everytime you talk to him like that it makes his expression darken, his cock growing hard once more and soon you’ll find yourself bent over the nearest surface, ass cheeks on display while he breaths hard and nudges his tip at your hole, determined to give you a bruised cunt to match your throat.)

His cum is thick too, but sometimes the consistency can be a little strange. It tends to glob up a bit, and because he dribbles when he comes, this can sometimes result in little spurts oozing out of his tip. The volume of cum is quite high, and because of this, when he comes inside you, you can really only describe it as him stuffing you full. (He’s seen your tummy swell before when he’s creampied you - you don’t really believe him, but he swears your stomach got bigger. And just the thought of that - that he stuffed you full enough to stretch that little pussy of yours out - is enough to get him growling and sucking dark hickeys into your neck, his possessiveness shooting through the roof.) He’s not especially vocal in bed, normally preferring to stay quiet and just listen to you, but as he gets closer his breathing starts getting really heavy, pants coming from his lips that sound more and more labored the closer his orgasm looms. Right before it hits, he’ll close his eyes and groan, the sound low and full of timber, making a shiver roll up your spine because it sounds so primal, like some sort of animal. And when he’s actually coming, he’ll groan again - except this time, it sounds vaguely like your name, the last syllable sounding upturned as the pleasure makes his mind scramble. His hips will slow down to nearly a stop when he’s coming, because he tends to get oversensitive really easily and he needs a moment to catch his breath. His eyes are closed the whole time, eyebrows scrunching together and looking a bit like it hurts, but the way his thighs tremble and the way his jaw goes slack tells you just how good you’ve made him feel. He prefers coming inside you, but as long as his cum gets inside of you somehow, whether that be in your cunt or down your throat, he doesn’t really mind. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when he’s on his back, and you’re perched with your cunt over his face and your mouth over his cock. He’s a fan of the classic 69 position, because while it isn’t the most sexually satisfying option, there’s something that he finds really endearing about the idea of pleasuring each other equally. He loves the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and the combination of that plus getting to taste your cute little pussy leaves him light headed and aroused enough to throw you down onto the bed. He likes to get on his back and give you a look, hoping you’ll understand what he wants without him having to articulate it, but if you don’t seem to get the message he’ll grab you and manhandle you on top of him, a hand gently pushing your face down to rub against his cock while his tongue slips between your folds. He’ll admit that the position is a little distracting, because it can be hard to focus on pleasing you when you’re doing such a good job of pleasing him, but he’s normally able to stave off his orgasm long enough to get you falling apart on top of him. He’ll aim for your clit and will sometimes bring a finger up to gently rub and curl against your walls, anything to get you shaking and moaning his name. (Plus, if he gets you wet enough, your slick will actually drip down onto his face - he fucking loves this, because it feels like you’re showering him with evidence of how well he’s touching you, coating his face with your slick because you want him to know that what he’s doing is enough.) He likes the way you gasp and struggle to stay consistent around him when he’s touching you like this, and feeling your fingers tremble as they stroke him and squeeze at his balls makes him sigh and buck his hips slightly. If he gets close, however, and feels like he can’t hold off any longer, his free hand will come down and hold your head in place while he thrusts up into your mouth, balls slapping against your nose as he fucks your face to his heart’s content. He just likes the intimacy of this position, and you’ll find yourself in it very often - especially towards the beginning of your ‘relationship’.

He’s just barely over five inches, but he’s pretty thick. It’s girthy, and when you first see it, the first thing you think of is how the hell he’s going to fit something that wide inside of you. It’s always a pink rosy color, even when he’s not hard, and although he’s embarrassed at first, he actually really likes having domestic moments with you where you see his cock both erect and flaccid - it makes him feel closer to you. (Plus, it normally only takes mere moments for it to go from soft to hard when you’re involved, which is what tends to happen nine times out of ten.) He doesn’t do a very good job of grooming himself, and takes pretty much no time to actually shave or trim or anything of the sort. It’s a bit of a mess down there, but he showers often so it all smells good and is clean. He doesn’t want you to shave or trim either - he firmly believes sex should be natural, and he wants to see you as you are, not as you present yourself. He’s decently sensitive, and while he’s got a bit of experience, he can get overwhelmed pretty easily when he’s inside you. He twitches a lot, especially once he’s settled between your walls - you can feel him moving inside you, bobbing and spasming as he gets closer to his orgasm, and sometimes his whole body shakes in time with them. It’s nice, actually, because it makes it easy to identify what kind of dirty talk gets to him - the moment you let any sort of praise slip past your tongue, he’s twitching and throbbing inside of you, acting as encouragement to get you saying more, to tell him that he feels good and that he’s gonna make me come ‘Hiro, please please please! (Begging normally gets him throbbing, too.)

He shoots, and there’s quite a bit of force behind the stream - it feels like the perfect amount of pressure in a shower, and he’ll always force himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch the way it spurts out of him and lands in ropes on your pretty body. His cum actually tastes surprisingly sweet, given how poor his diet is. It’s on the saltier side, but it’s nothing too outrageous. (You told him that once and he made some joke about how it would make the perfect replacement for that salt shaker that always seems to run out. You didn’t find the joke particularly funny, but the thought lingers in his mind for a while, and suddenly he can’t stop imagining the way you’d look actually eating his cum, not even in a sexual context. The thought makes him flush and have to clear his throat, but he can’t deny the allure.) This is great news for you, because Takahiro loves to come in your mouth. There’s something so dirty about seeing his cum dripping from the corners of your lips, down your chin, your pretty pink tongue coming out to lick it all up - and oh, if you hum or moan at the taste? He’ll melt, a few droplets of whatever remaining cum his body can scrounge up landing on your face without any warning. He’s a moaner, and while it embarrasses him, his voice always gets high when he gets close to coming, sounding less like moaning and more like whining and whimpering. He’ll always try to bury his face in whatever surface is closest by, though he tends to prefer your breasts or the small of your back, whichever is accessible. The moment he’s actually coming, though, he’ll  always pull back to watch, because even being a fully grown adult man, he’s still in awe of how your body just seems to affect his, almost like you’re pulling the cum out of him with how hard he orgasms. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you ride him. He’s not necessarily lazy in bed, but he likes to watch you and let you do most of the work until he needs to step in. He’ll lay back with his head on some pillows and let you straddle him, your cute tummy and pretty tits on display as you slowly slide down onto him. He likes when you grind a bit on him first, your folds rubbing and massaging against his length, and if you watch his tip you’ll see a copious amount of precum oozing out, showcasing his steadily growing desperation to get inside you. Once you slip him past your tight entrance and he bottoms out inside you, he’ll sigh and pinch at your hips, his voice cocky as he tells you to get on with it baby, wanna feel you bouncing on me like a good little slut. It’s uncharacteristic, with how most of his tendencies in the bedroom tend to air on the more submissive side, but the moment you’re actually moving? Well, all traces of cockiness and dominance are gone - he’s gripping onto your thighs for dear life, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce and jiggle, maybe even smacking against your ribcage if they’re big enough. He likes the way he’s able to get deeper inside you like this, the penetration going further and making you cry out his name because you just feel so damn full. He’ll stare and watch you, his cheeks bright red, unable to focus on anything except your body and the way his orgasm is drawing nearer and nearer, and eventually he’ll get close enough that he needs to take control. He’ll sit up and wrap his arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest and maybe even a nipple in his mouth as he moves you up and down like some glorified sex doll. He’ll control your body fully, his own hips snapping up to meet yours in a crazed chase of his orgasm, until finally it hits, and he’s moaning your name and his balls are pulsing against your ass as warm cum floods you. He likes the vulnerability of this position, the way he can be touching so much of you at once, and because he gets to see all of you, even the parts of you that you try to hide in other positions. (Like that cute stomach of yours or the fat of your thighs.) You just look sexy, and the way you pulse and clench down onto him like a fucking vice when you reach your own high only spurs him on, desperation for round two and three and four hitting him like a truck.

He’s a little under five inches, but he’s mean with it. He doesn’t have much experience, but he’s nursed a small porn addiction for most of his life, and although he knows porn isn’t realistic, he can’t help but fuck into you with reckless abandon every time he’s got you naked in front of him. He’s not too terribly thick, but he’s veiny, to the point where he almost looks like those veiny dildos you can get online. His tip is extremely sensitive - swiping your thumb across his slit or squeezing at the head makes him splutter, his cheeks turning bright red as his hips jerk forward. It’s easy to turn him on, because he’s really bad at hiding when he’s aroused. Seeing you in anything form fitting will make him feel hot and have him alternating between averting his eyes and staring at every inch of you, but the real nail in the coffin for him is when you touch him in falsely innocent ways. Place a palm to his chest and smile at him and he’s immediately hard, or run your hand over his hair and he’s practically panting, unable to stop imagining the way you’d grip at his hair and beg him for more when he’s got his face between your legs. He gets hard easily, but he’s normally able to make it go away pretty easily too, but his face stays this rich red color and he gets more skittish around you than normal, so you’ll be able to tell ninety percent of the time. He’s actually pretty meticulous about upkeep - he’s not clean shaven but the hair is very short, perfectly trimmed so that you have unrestricted access to everything below his belt. He does this both because it makes him feel cleaner, and also because he wants to be as enticing to you as possible so that you’ll be more inclined to touch him. He’d gotten drunk one night in his early twenties and decreed that he’d be getting his dick pierced, and a buddy had gotten it on video, and he wouldn’t let his pride be wounded, so now he’s got a Prince Albert piercing on his tip. It hurt like hell, but he really likes the way it feels inside you - it makes him more sensitive, he thinks, and you always seem to squirm when you feel the cold metal, the extra stimulation making you moan and clench even harder around him. 

His cum is thick and there’s a lot of it. It doesn’t taste great, and the first time you tasted it you couldn’t help but grimace slightly. Kentarou noticed, and while he didn’t say anything about it, he’s been trying to alter his diet to include more foods he’s read help sweeten the taste of cum. He prefers to finish on your body rather than in you, but he’ll never not finish inside you if that’s what you want. Really, if you ask him to finish anywhere specific, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, excited that you want it. He just likes the way you look with it smeared across your skin - again, that porn addiction has left him with a bit of an objectification kink, and while he doesn’t view you as simply a toy for him to fuck, there’s something that quells his possessiveness towards you when he’s covering you with his seed. He tries to avoid coming in your mouth though, just because he doesn’t want to see you grimace like that again. When he’s fucking you, he doesn’t usually say much, but he isn’t super quiet - he grunts a lot, always sounding a little bit like he’s in pain, and he keeps his eyes tightly closed for much of it. He’ll mutter your name under his breath, too, but it’s quiet enough that unless his mouth is close to your ear you won’t be able to distinguish what he’s saying. But as he gets closer to coming, those grunts turn more into growls, and right as he’s on the edge, he’s literally growling your name, along with slurred fuck’s and yeah’s and too damn tight’s. He’s not too expressive, but if his orgasm is particularly powerful he’ll end up sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder - not enough to break the skin or hurt, but enough to leave a mark when he pulls away, and enough to muffle the moan that bubbles up in the back of his throat. His whole body tremors when he’s coming, everything from his fingertips to his toes trembling and shaking slightly, the force of his orgasm nearly blowing him away. It takes him a long time to actually finish coming once it starts, too - he comes so much that it just never seems to end, him emptying into you for easily twenty seconds before the last few drops finally come out. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take your time and just absolutely worship his cock. He’s never been embarrassed of his body or anything, but he likes the idea of being soft with you, and while he’s just a bit too awkward to take the time and worship your body, he likes when you do it to him. (It’s not that he doesn’t want to worship yours - he does, absolutely, more than you could ever understand. But putting himself into that position where you’re watching his every move and judging him, letting him explore and pleasure you and do whatever he wants with you makes him nervous, the pressure settling on his shoulders to do well making him chicken out at the last second. But when it’s you worshiping him, he can just sit back and watch, letting you do your magic until he’s eventually gasping your name and getting cum all over himself as you fist him and press kisses against his thighs.) It feels like such an intimate moment, and it helps convince him that you actually like him, that you’re actually returning the love he’s so frantically forcing onto you. He wants you to keep eye contact the whole time, looking up at him from your place on your knees, his own body seated in a chair with his legs spread so you have easier access. He wants you to kiss every inch of him, your soft lips pressing against his thigh, balls, cock, navel, everything you can reach. He wants you to pump slowly, telling him how warm he feels in your hands, how he’s so big and makes you feel so good, the compliments flowing off your tongue like sugar and making his face turn bright red. He wants you to suckle on his tip and lick along his slit, teasing him with not quite enough pressure, telling him how good it feels when he brushes against that certain spot inside you that makes you see stars. He wants you to squeeze and touch his balls, telling him how these always make you feel so full, they fill me up so well, Kentarou, I love it when you come in me. He just wants you to praise him and touch him all softly and slowly, showing him that you really love him. Give him hope that his one-sided feelings might be more reciprocated than he seems to think.

It’s solidly five inches, and curves very slightly to the left. He’s confident enough with it, but Yuutarou finds himself wishing he was just a bit longer, just a bit thicker, just a bit more. He spends a lot of time looking at himself in the mirror, and especially once his feelings for you form, he’s always idly wondering what you’d think of him. It’s a pale color, and when he gets hard it turns a gradient of pink down to his tip, where it’s flushed and always swollen within seconds of blood rushing south. He keeps himself clean shaven because he doesn’t want you to be grossed out when he eventually has you in front of him, naked and yearning for his touch. He wants everything to be clean and attractive and perfect, because the first time he gets to touch you and fuck you, everything has to go perfectly. He’s decently sensitive, and he especially likes it when you pay attention to his base. Gripping him there and idly squeezing while you talk to him will make him breathless and light headed, his voice strained and tight when you ask him if he’s wanting to fuck me? Do you want that, Yuutarou? Do you want to make me a mess on your cock? You’re so dirty when you talk to him like that, but it drives him crazy - and when you grip him tighter and tighter and tighter, it only furthers the feeling. He likes it, too, because your hand almost acts as a sort of cock ring, barring him from accidentally coming much too early - something that’s happened often when he was still left to his own devices with only the thought of you and his pillow to work with. 

His cum is watery and there’s not a huge amount of it. He comes pretty easily, all things considered, but he has a decently short recovery time, and if the worst case scenario occurs (he comes before you), he’s immediately getting onto his stomach and diving between your legs, tongue eagerly working at your clit and his fingers slipping past your swollen folds to curl and rub at you until you’re moaning and clutching onto the pillow under your head. He’ll let himself calm down, and within five minutes he’s normally able to get hard again, and while this time he’ll likely be shooting a blank, he will keep fucking you until you come for him - and this time he’ll have his thumb working at your sensitive little clit the whole time, his pride out the window because he needs you to come, dammit. When he comes he makes this weird little half-shout half-groan, the sound loud and a little bit jarring. He tries to keep quiet for the most part during sex, because no matter how many times you try to tell him that you like his noises, he’s too embarrassed to freely let them out. Besides, he’d rather hear you anyways. But when he’s getting close, he does tend to start blabbering, his voice slurred and the words coming out so quickly that they’re hard to understand. He’s trying to get every thought out in those last few seconds before he comes, because he has all these compliments and sweet nothings that come to mind when he’s fucking you, but he’s too engrossed in the moment and nervous to actually say them, so he waits until the last moment and all you can hear is y’so tight ‘n good, ‘m gonna come in you, fuck let me come, y’so pretty when you’re drippin’ with me and fuck fuck fuck, here it comes take it take it take it-! He writhes when he comes, unable to stay still, his muscles flexing and relaxing over and over again, leaving him to shake on top of you and then promptly collapse onto you. He’s exhausted after he comes, but he’s still attentive to your needs, and even if he’s on the edge of passing out, he’ll make sure to get his fingers stuffed inside you and his lips on your nipples, absolutely anything to guarantee you’re feeling good. 

His favorite way for you to touch him is when you take control. He’s always a little doubtful of his own abilities, nervous that he’ll do something that you don’t like, even though you aren’t the first girl he’s slept with. He’s just a bit paranoid that he’ll make a mistake and eliminate any form of attraction you feel for him, and so he likes it best when you take the wheel, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, leaning down to kiss him and suck hickies into his neck. He likes when you grind on him, your hips moving against his in circles, your very thin panties (that he’d picked out, with a red face, the last time he’d visited a lingerie shop, having bought a few sets for you after learning your panty and bra size) rubbing up against his boxers, the navy material already stained a darker blue with a copious amount of precum. He wants you to move his hands for him, your grinding never stopping as you situate his large palms against your breasts (already bare, your - his - t-shirt haven’t been discarded across the room), squeezing over his hands to encourage him. He wants you to slowly sink down on him, before setting up a brutal pace, bouncing on top of him with reckless abandon while you smile down at him and hold eye contact. He wants you to move his hands to grope at your ass, while you reach behind you to play with his balls, squeezing lightly and feeling the way he tenses up and warbles your name. He wants you to suddenly switch your positioning, so that you’re facing away from him, your ass exposed to his prying eyes while you roll your hips again, the new angle making access to squeezing his thighs easier. He just wants you to manhandle him, really, because while he may be well over six feet tall and is finishing up his collegiate studies, he’s nothing more than putty in your hands, eager to do anything and everything you want.

He’s roughly five inches, with a moderate girth. Overall, he’s thoroughly average - tufts of brown, curly hair sit at his base and a vein or two decorates his shaft, which slims out a bit as it extends, ending in a round, mushroom-shaped tip that’s always covered by pretty, pink foreskin. He produces a lot of precum, to the point where once you get your hands on him, you’ll be surprised to feel that it’s almost like he’s already slicked himself up with lube. There’s just so much of it - but that’s because once Akira gets hard, he stays hard. No matter how hard he tries to distract himself or will away his erection, it takes at least fifteen minutes for it to go away. Even after he comes, he stays hard for a while - he gets oversensitive very easily, so he’ll try to swat your hand away if you reach for it when it’s still coming down after his release, but secretly he hopes you’ll reach for it again because he’ll begrudgingly let it happen the second time, content and pleased that you want to keep touching him. He stays hard, but actually takes him quite a bit to get hard - even with you, the woman he finds so sexually arousing and desirable that it makes him sick sometimes, he has to have a good mix of stimulation and thoughts to get him ready to go. Generally, if you want to get his cock swelling up and turning a deep pink color, kiss his neck and palm over his crotch, whispering his name in the most sultry voice you can manage, maybe even flicking even lightly biting his earlobe as you whisper into it. He’s not too sensitive, and because of this he tends to last a long time in bed, to the point where if he’s really concentrated and you’re in the right mood, he’ll get you to orgasm at least three times before he gets close. He doesn’t groom himself all that much, figuring that if you really have a problem with it you’ll let him know, and while he keeps everything clean and sanitary, sometimes you end up with a bit of hair in your mouth when you’re sucking him off. 

He doesn’t produce a huge amount of cum, but it’s decent tasting, enough so that you genuinely don’t mind swallowing it. This is good news, because Akira really, really likes when you give him head. His favorite place to come is definitely your mouth, and the feeling of your lips and tongue against him are often the quickest way to get him to orgasm. He’s a fan of pushing himself as deeply into your mouth as he can and then releasing, so that all of it goes directly down your throat, because he likes the idea of his cum being in you, even more than just in your cunt. He’s also satisfied with pulling back and coming all over your face, because while it isn’t quite as satisfying as finishing in your mouth, there’s still something lewd and dirty about it, especially if you open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. He’s pretty quiet in bed, mostly just breathing hard or muttering commands under his breath - they’re never too harsh, just things like keep going or say that again. But when he comes, he takes this long, harsh inhale - it’s not quite a gasp, but it sounds too uneven and heavy to be a normal breath. He’s not one to moan too much naturally, but he tries to push down any sort of noise if possible because he doesn’t want to turn you off in case you don’t like it - even if you try to reassure him, he doesn’t really believe you, and he’ll still do the long-inhale-thing rather than let out the little whimper he really needs to. His whole body jerks when he comes, and this normally ends up lodging him even deeper into whatever hole he’s buried in, which adds extra stimulation to his already sensitive cock, making him hiss and grit his teeth. His face gets red as he gets close, too, and it’s a telltale sign that he’s feeling good when his cheeks start blooming pink, all the way down to his neck and over his collarbones. He gets sweaty, too, exertion and holding back any sounds taking a lot of effort, and often his bangs will get stuck to his forehead.

Akira’s favorite way for you to touch him is when you take his cock into your mouth. There’s something about the power dynamic that gets to him, because while he doesn’t inherently view himself as any better than you (he may not show it, but he worships the ground you walk on, if all the stalking and tedious collecting of your information are anything to consider), something just feels right when you’re suckling on him like that, your pretty eyes sparkling up at him through your lashes and tears pricking at your lash line every time you take him just a bit too far down your throat. There’s something endearing about the way that you take him so well, relaxing your throat and bobbing your head over and over, and he especially loves it when you get messy. He likes your spit to be everywhere, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls, dribbling down your chin, just getting everything wet and sticky. He likes the sight of you pulling back and panting hard, a thin strand of saliva and precum connecting his tip to your lip, the sight making him gulp and clutch onto the corner of the chair he’s seated in so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He likes the way your lips are so soft against him, how your tongue is wet and warm and so very dexterous, licking around his tip and dipping in against his slit. He just likes the way you give him so much attention when you’re using your mouth; it makes him feel special and pleased that all your time and effort is going into him, to please him and make him feel good. And if you were to reach down between your legs, your fingers playing with your clit while you bob your head and use your other hand to lightly grope at his balls? Well, hopefully you take getting your throat fucked as well as you do bobbing your head, because the mere sight will have him losing control and needing to fuck something, and your pretty little face is the nearest thing. 

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