#her backside was drawn perfectly
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bro not the fact that the first thing yuji saw of yuki was her ass 😭🖐️ TALL WOMAN WITH BIG ASS
#jjk episode 22#jjk season two#yuji itadori#choso kamo#yuki tsukumo#jjk anime#jjk latest episode#yuji#yuki#tall woman with big ass#gaahhhh yuji be fr that's a life for battle going there boy#her backside was drawn perfectly#I know this is for yuji ayyyyyy#i love chosoyuki#yuki is kinda hot so yuji stand in line
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"Not Too Old For Me"
Paring: Parents Bestfriend!Lee know x Bottom Reader
Genre: Smut
Summary: Y/n arrives at her family's vacation home for winter break to find a surprise in their pool.
More: Masterlist
A/n: I just finished my Yeonjun x Bottom Fan!Reader fic. I'll post it later today when I'm less busy.
The crisp winter air nipped at Y/n's nose as she stepped out of the car, her breath forming tiny clouds in front of her face. She stretched her arms overhead, feeling the familiar weight of her luggage dig into her shoulders. The warm vacation home, nestled at the foot of the snow-capped mountains, beckoned her with its inviting glow. She glanced around, taking in the serene winter landscape before her. It was just like she remembered.
But what she didn't remember was her parents inviting one of their friends, Lee Minho, to stay with them for the holidays. As she unloaded her suitcase onto the porch, she couldn't help but wonder why they'd done such a thing. It wasn't as if they were close friends or anything.
Shrugging it off, she made her way inside, removing her coat and boots by the door. The warmth of the house enveloped her like a comforting embrace, driving away the last traces of the cold air. She could hear laughter coming from the living room, where her parents were having a glass of wine with Minho. He was a tall, handsome man in his mid-thirties, with a charming smile and an air of confidence that seemed to draw people to him.
With a sigh, Y/n headed upstairs to her room to unpack. She glanced out the window as she passed by and caught a glimpse of Minho, his muscles glistening with water as he stepped out of the pool. Her heart skipped a beat as he turned around, revealing his perfectly toned backside. Suddenly, she felt a strange thrill coursing through her veins. This was going to be an interesting vacation indeed.
After putting away her clothes, she slipped into a revealing black swimsuit and made her way downstairs. The backyard was huge, with a pool and plenty of lounge chairs scattered around. As she stepped into the pool, the cool water enveloped her body, making her gasp. It felt so refreshing after being cooped up inside for so long. She swam a few laps, enjoying the freedom of the water, before deciding to lie down on one of the loungers to soak up some sun.
A few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Minho emerging from the house. He was still shirtless, his chest glistening with droplets of water. He smiled at her, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth. "Hey, Y/n. Mind if I join you?" he asked, sitting down in the lounger next to hers.
She felt a rush of heat spread through her body at his proximity. "Uh, no, I guess not," she managed to reply, her voice sounding a little shaky. He leaned closer to her, his arm brushing against hers, and the air between them seemed to crackle with electricity. For a moment, she considered trying to seduce him, to see where things might go. But then she remembered her parents would be gone for two days, leaving them alone together…and that thought sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her.
Minho must have sensed her nervousness, because he smiled reassuringly and patted her leg. "It's okay, I won't bite. Relax and enjoy the sun." As he spoke, his hand lingered on her thigh, sending tingles up her spine. She could feel her heart racing and her breath coming faster. This was dangerous territory, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She wanted to explore where this attraction was leading.
The next few hours passed in a haze of swimming and flirting. Y/n's parents had already left to get Y/n's sister from boarding school. They talked about everything from movies to travel, and Y/n couldn't help but feel drawn to him. His eyes were piercing and intense, and when he smiled at her, it felt like the sun had come out from behind a cloud. They even shared a few intimate moments, their bodies pressed tightly together as they kissed beneath the warm summer sun.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the pool and the surrounding landscape, Minho suggested they move inside. He led her through the house and into the Minho's bedroom, where they collapsed onto the bed, their bodies still wet from the pool. "Y/n, are you sure you want to do this. I'm twice your age. Aren't I too old for you?"
Y/n looks at Minho and says "I'm sure. You are not too old for me." He began to kiss her neck, his lips trailing Lower and Lower, while his hands explored her body, caressing and teasing. She arched her back, wanting more, needing him to touch her.He pulled away for a moment, his eyes meeting hers. "Do you trust me?" he whispered. She nodded, her heart racing. He smiled, his hand moving Lower still, until it was cupping her bare breast. He squeezed gently, rolling her nipple between his fingers. She let out a moan, her hips pressing against his hand. He leaned in, taking her nipple into his mouth, sucking softly as his other hand moved Lower still, slipping between her legs. She cried out as he found her already wet, her body trembling with desire.
His fingers moved in a rhythm that was both familiar and new, as if he knew exactly how to touch her, how to make her lose control. She arched her back off the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders as she came undone beneath his touch. She could feel the heat rising within her, spreading through her body like wildfire. He continued to stroke her, his fingers moving faster and faster, until she felt a second, even more intense orgasm building deep inside her.
As she neared the brink, he pulled his fingers away, leaving her aching for more. "You're so wet, Y/n," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. He rolled onto his knees, positioning himself between her spread legs. She gasped as she felt the head of his erection pressing against her entrance. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and intense, and slowly, carefully, he pushed inside. She cried out as he filled her, the sensation of being so completely joined with him overwhelming her senses.
He began to move, his hips meeting hers in a rhythm that was both gentle and demanding. He leaned down, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking as he thrust deeper. She arched her back, moaning loudly as their bodies moved together, the sounds of their passion echoing through the room.
As they became lost in the sensation of being joined, the last vestiges of daylight faded away, replaced by the warm glow of the lamps. The air in the room seemed to hum with anticipation as they explored each other's bodies, their movements growing more urgent and intense. Minho's thrusts became deeper, harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to control the building urgency within him.
Y/n arched her back, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she met his every stroke. She felt herself getting closer, the pressure building inside her, demanding release. With a cry that seemed to come from the depths of her soul, she came, her body convulsing beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over her. Minho followed close behind, his eyes squeezed shut, his back arching as he emptied himself deep inside her.
They lay tangled together on the bed, their breath coming in ragged gasps, their hearts racing. Minho rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. "That was… incredible," he murmured, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Y/n couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment spread through her.
"I've never… I've never felt anything like that before," she confessed, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss before replying, "Neither have I." They lay there for several long moments, lost in the afterglow of their passion, the world around them fading away as they basked in the glow of their connection.
As their breathing began to steady, Minho propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down at her. "Do you want to take a shower?" he asked, running a finger lightly down her cheek. She nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He smiled reassuringly, then rolled off the bed and onto his feet. He extended a hand to help her up, and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
The walk to the bathroom was a surreal experience as if they were in a bubble, the world around them fading away. He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was just right, then helped her step under the spray. The warm water cascaded down over them, washing away the sweat and the traces of their passion.
#bangchansdirty-slut#lee minho#lee know#minho x reader#lee know x reader#minho x reader smut#lee know x reader smut#lee know smut#lee minho smut#minho smut#lee minho x reader#lee minho x reader smut#stray kids#stray kids fic#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids minho#stray kids lee know
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Ch 18: — and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.
Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?
This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.
This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.
Professionally edited by @editing-by-night
Halsin's gift gets put to use.
Read on AO3.
Masterlist.
Together with Halsin’s gift there was a leatherwork harness and a bottle of oil. Ban bit her lip, holding the items in her hands as Astarion stripped off the rest of his clothing.
“I did bathe in the hope you’d be agreeable to this,” he said excitedly, tossing his underwear onto the pile with the rest of his clothes. He scanned her face, saw her nervousness, and frowned.
“We don’t have to,” Astarion ventured, “If this isn’t something you want, then just say the word.”
“Have you ever done - what am I saying? Of course you have.” Ban fidgeted. “Is this… is this something you think you might like?” she asked instead.
His ears reddened again. “Yes. It could be enjoyable, in theory, but I haven’t done it with anyone I genuinely wanted. It will be as new for me as it is for you, in the ways that matter most.”
“Then why not bring it up before?” She looked at the wooden cock on the bed. It wasn’t too large, but Halsin had made the phallus curved.
“Ban.” Another look of impatience crossed Astarion’s features. “I know you’re flustered, but think a little. When in the last, gods, year, have we had time to consider things like this? Half the time we were trying to survive out there, and the other half we-”
Another sigh. “You know.”
She nodded. Fair enough. Ban set the bottle down, picking up the cock instead. She silently threaded it through the harness, careful not to scratch the protective coating on the wood, then looked back to her husband.
“I don’t know how to do this. Don’t be disappointed if I don’t perform well.” Ban held the cock gingerly in her hands, nervousness evident in her face.
“I have enough experience for the both of us, trust me,” Astarion said, eyes softening, “And it’s you. You never have to do anything as a performance to make me feel good. You just have to be you.”
Astarion’s pulse thrummed with excitement as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ban peel off her clothes and step into the harness, securing it around her hips. “Grab that chair, love, and bring it here.” He gestured in front of him.
She did as asked then sat down, fidgeting a little apprehensively. They faced each other, knees touching. The bottle of oil sat beside Astarion, unstoppered and ready for use.
He drew his legs up, the soles of his feet flat on the bed, offering his backside to her. He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows to watch her, torn between equal parts anticipation and worry.
Will she be alright, doing this for me? What if she doesn’t really want to do this-
That line of thought evaporated as firm, strong hands wrapped around each ass cheek, spreading him open.
“Pretty,” Ban crooned, her tone perfectly even. He was a perfect shade of pink, clean and begging to be fucked.
Astarion raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that all you’re going to s-”
His remark cut off in a choked moan as she leaned forward and her tongue made contact with his entrance. Her first lick was hesitant, but hearing his response gave her more courage. The next passes of her tongue were more insistent, tracing slow, drawn out circles.
“Gods, Ban. That’s wonderful, but ah- you could go faster.”
Astarion stared at Ban unblinkingly; the sight was one he thought he’d remember for the rest of eternity. His hands dug into the sheets, cock twitching in anticipation.
“I could,” she conceded, lifting her head to meet his gaze, “But do I want to?”
He looked delectable, spread open for her like this. His ears were the pinkest she’d ever seen them, his cock already beginning to moisten at the tip.
“Ban.” He glowered. “I thought you said you had no experience in this. You ought to let me lead.”
Even as the words left him he knew he was powerless. He’d do anything to feel her tongue again.
“No experience at all,” she agreed, “But when it comes to you? I’m a quick study. Now, stay still.” With that she leaned back in, tongue laving all over his entrance enthusiastically. She traced another slow, firm circle, then plunged her tongue inside.
The moan that escaped him was exquisite, high-pitched and dripping with need.
Ban smirked, her fingers digging into the flesh of his ass to spread his cheeks further apart. Pressing her face flush against his entrance, she thrust her tongue in and out before retreating to lavish him with languid laps. She could feel him trying to rock his hips against her mouth, and she pulled away.
“I’m warning you, Astarion. Behave.”
He whimpered, forcing himself to still. He watched his cock throb, watched the drop of precum glint with the movement.
She resumed her ministrations, her tongue slowly spreading him open. Satisfied, she drew back.
“Perfect,” she cooed at him, “You know that, don’t you?” She reached for the bottle of oil, pouring some onto her palm.
It took him a moment to register her words; he opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a strangled gasp as her oiled finger slowly slipped inside of him.
She was enjoying exploring a new part of his body, enjoyed even more how much he was enjoying it. The tightness and gentle suction tugging on her index finger was oddly arousing. She pressed carefully on, watching him intently for signs of distress. She could see his cockhead gleaming with precum, his thighs twitching, his chest heaving. He was so responsive, so beautiful.
His eyes locked onto her face “More,” Astarion gasped out, his voice heavy with need, “Please.”
She smiled softly at him, slowly adding a second finger. She gently stretched him, moving deeper with a slow, measured pace she knew would drive him near to madness.
“Faster,” he hissed, “I’m not some godsdamned virgin-”
The fingers inside him curled, and he lost what little coherence he had left. His face went blank in shock as he realized she’d found his spot, and then the pleasure of it overtook him. He moaned so desperately it was nearly a sob. His back arched as his head fell back and his grip on the sheets tightened so suddenly he nearly tore through them.
Ban couldn’t remember a time he’d ever looked more lovely. She curled her fingers again, pleased with the sight of him writhing under her touch, his cock twitching, sweat beginning to bead on his pearlescent skin. She paused for a moment, hesitating.
“Was that okay, Astarion? Tell me what you want.”
He lifted his head to look at her, nodding fervently, not trusting himself to speak.
He took a deep breath to steady himself. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready. Just keep… keep doing that for now.”
She nodded, giving him a soft kiss on his inner thigh. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
A quiet whimper was his only reply.
Her fingers resumed, working him open with a gentleness that set his heart ablaze with love. It took a little longer than it could have, but he wasn’t complaining. He savored the feel of her inside him, stretching him open, making sure he was ready and not in pain. Loving him.
Astarion enjoyed her exploration with a patience he didn’t normally possess, unwilling to hurry her along, no matter how eager he was for the next step. He could feel the tenderness in her touch, her concern for his pleasure, and that was everything. He relaxed further, his tightness slowly ebbing with the overwhelming buildup of pleasure and desire.
Finally, he was so keen to be filled he couldn’t stand it.
“Ban. It’s time.”
A soft chuckle escaped Ban as she drew her fingers out, kissing his thigh again. She watched as he reached for the prestidigitation scroll Halsin had included with his gift, casting it over her while she repositioned herself. She leaned back on the chair, feeling cleaner than she had since they’d left the palace, waiting until his eyes were on her. Pouring more oil into her palms, she made a show of generously spreading the oil over the shaft of the wooden cock, eyes locked onto his.
“Come ride me then, Astarion,” she crooned, her lips curving in a teasing smile.
He got up a little clumsily, cock bobbing as he straddled her lap. She grasped his hips, guiding him while he slowly lowered himself onto her.
As he sank down, his weight pressed the base of the wooden cock harder against her; she instinctively rolled her hips up to meet him, earning his grunt of pleasure.
Astarion settled, shifting a little to get comfortable. The cock spreading him felt pleasant, the feeling of being full almost too much, but oh so welcome. He rested his hands on her shoulders, meeting her gaze. His eyes were lust-blown, curls sweat-damp and glued to his forehead.
Ban’s grip on his waist tightened, holding him firmly in place. Slowly, methodically, she began to thrust, fucking him gently.
The mewl that escaped him was completely involuntary. He wanted more, needed more, and so he began to move his hips, angling himself into her thrusts. With every movement the cock inside him hit his spot; he pleasured himself on it eagerly, rocking back and forth. His untouched cock shone, twitching, begging for stimulation, the ache only adding to his pleasure. His gliding sped up, his heart racing, his arousal slowly approaching its peak.
Ban leaned forward to press her forehead against his. She could feel his breaths as he panted, desperately chasing his release.
“Close?” she murmured, her hands moving from his waist to his thighs, massaging lightly.
He nodded, his hips rocking faster; she closed the gap between them to kiss him.
He took her hand and placed it over his chest. “Feel,” he whispered, “For you. Only you.”
As delirious with lust as he was, the love he felt for her was even more overwhelming, each emotion feeding and intensifying the other in a dizzying spiral that left him breathless.
Ban felt the frantic beating of his heart as his hips rocked again and again. His rhythm slowly became erratic, and his eyes closed.
She considered how to heighten his pleasure further, then softly caressed the head of his cock.
Astarion whined, his body writhing at the bolt of pleasure that shot through him, the sensation almost pushing him over the edge.
“Not yet,” she warned, “You’ll have to beg me for it.” She ran her finger over his tip, spreading his precum in slow circles, but doing nothing more.
She could feel him throbbing, wonderfully hard and hot against her fingers; she knew it wouldn’t be long at all.
He attempted to glare at her, but only managed a pout. He gave up, expression changing to one of wanton, desperate need.
“Please, Ban. Let me come.”
She didn’t need to be asked twice. Ban captured his lips, wrapping her hand around his neglected, aching cock.
It did, indeed, not take long at all. She stroked him a few times and he plummeted over the edge into bliss. He shivered head to toe, lips opening in a noiseless gasp; his head flew back and he arched into her. His legs spasmed; she quickly steadied him with her free hand, gently holding his back as he came undone.
She continued stroking him, milking every drop of come until it was just shy of too much and he shuddered.
When he finally opened his eyes again, she lifted her stained hand to her mouth, sucking each finger methodically, gazing at him adoringly.
“You…” Astarion shook his head. He looked down; seeing both their bodies streaked with his spend sent another shiver of satisfaction racing through him. After such an intense experience, he didn’t quite have his vocabulary back yet. Instead he gave her a quick kiss.
He slowly raised himself up off the wooden cock, gingerly taking a seat on the bed. Ban stood, removing the harness before joining him.
The moment she was in bed he pulled her close.
“Would you want something for yourself too?” he asked. He would gladly reciprocate, but he was feeling exhausted.
She shook her head, smiling softly at him. “Tonight was for you and I enjoyed giving it to you. That’s enough for me.”
He planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, “It… it helped.”
He felt valued, knowing that she did this for his pleasure; that she cared enough to attempt it for him. She had been so gentle and attentive. It was exactly what he’d needed.
Ban hummed, her own eyes drifting shut. “I love you.”
As challenging as things had been, she was grateful to be here with him; to be trusted with this side of him. Being given that trust…it aided in assuaging her lingering doubts.
“I love you too,” he mumbled as he slipped into trance.
She stayed conscious for a few more moments more, her head on his chest, listening to his heart slow as he rested.
Forever, she mused, wouldn’t be so bad after all.
#astarion#astarion baldurs gate#baldurs gate astarion#astarion x tav#astarion fic#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#astarion x mc#astarion x female oc#astarion x f!tav#astarion x female tav#ascended astarion x tav#astarion ascended#ascendant astarion#vampire ascendant#ascended astarion#astarion angst#astarion fanfiction#astarion fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fic
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overblot! Riddle nonconning you in front of Ace and Deuce while going on about how this is the only thing a magicless nobody is good for 👍🏼
Omg yes,,,,,,,,
(cw: yandere, gender neutral, nsfw, non-con, humiliation/degradation, public sex)
Amidst a ruined, debris-ridden rose maze, a monster looms. No one dares stray close, lest they find themselves maimed and sent to the grave, and so they can only watch helplessly from the safety of overturned chairs, tables, and uprooted rose trees. The scene was once serene, an almost-perfect Unbirthday. Now it is desolate and bleak, a nightmarish reality that leaves thick, discomforting silence blanketing the grounds.
Riddle casts a grotesquely bone-chilling shadow, and his appearance mirrors that of a creature torn from the pages of a classic horror; that's the only way to describe him: cruel and cold, all sharp, vicious edges and thorns, dripping blot. He's on the verge of a supernova, toeing the line of life and death, a monstrous mage who has reached the consequences of a culmination of excessive magic, spilled over into bitter negativity. The aura that clings to him is, in a word, utterly terrifying.
And you're right there in his shadow, a fragile, caged thing bent down on your hands and knees. Your fingers curl into the grass, tearing clumps. No one dares to speak up, to demand he release you, to fight for your safety and dignity. Hopelessly collared, Ace and Deuce, your closest companions in all of this mess, look on in horror even though they don't mean to.
It's like a tragedy spun right before their eyes. They want to look away, but they can't. It's morbidly ensorcelling.
"Observe!" Riddle's voice booms, commanding absolute obedience and attention. His pallid hips press against your ass while clawed hands dig into your hips, holding you perfectly still. Blood is drawn; it seeps beneath his sharpened nails, leaving painful indents. You feel filthy and fearful, cut down to something small and insignificant and weak. Droplets of blot speckle your backside each time he shifts. It's warm like candle wax, but it doesn't burn.
The betrayal does, though—stains through to your very soul.
You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes of drifting off elsewhere. Anywhere that isn't here, speared on his cock for all to see, forced into the grass like you're bowing apologetically before the Queen and her card soldiers.
"You lack the key capabilities all mages must possess, and yet you thought it wise to challenge my rules? Here? When my word is law?" He barks out a laugh, sickly amused. Scarlet eyes narrow with disdain. "Perhaps you're as slovenly as you are disobedient. As expected of a disrespectful, magic-less fool who knows nothing! Absolutely nothing of the order I so carefully uphold!"
He pulls back, seething through grit teeth, and snaps his hips forwards. You collapse on shaky arms, gasping in pain.
It hurts more than heartbreak, more than a bruise, more than a slap. Tears spot your lash line, threatening to fall with one more well-aimed, brutal thrust. Spidery fingers dance along your waist, tracing a line towards your neck. He grips your chin and forces you to look upon a crowd of terrified faces, all ogling with bated breath. Ace is watching and so is Deuce, albeit through the cracks in his hands.
"What did you hope to achieve—to prove—by defying me?" he demands, his grip a deadly vise. "That I could be in the wrong? That all I've worked tirelessly for, all that I've done, is wrong?"
"Riddle..." You wince in your futile attempt to pull away. "Riddle, please... I... I'm sorry, but please... You're hurting me..."
He turns your head towards him, eyes ablaze with a furious tempest, and he leans closer, pinning you with startling ease. His cock presses up against your insides, enveloped tightly in your walls, and you shudder through the discomfort and the agony. A single claw traces dangerously close to your jugular.
"Speak up if you have something to say!"
"It hurts!" You gasp again, outright sobbing now. "It hurts! Please..."
"It's a punishment," he sneers, glaring disapprovingly. "It's meant to impart a lesson—one learned through pain. If you understand this, stop sniveling and respond appropriately."
You're not sure which is worse: humiliation at the hands of someone you considered a friendly acquaintance or the fact that, no matter how villainous he may be, you only wish for him to return to himself. You'd never wish this fate on anyone, but maybe it's your too-big heart that makes it impossible to hate him. You don't hate him. You can't.
And perhaps that's the worst part of all this.
You hang your head, defeated and devoid of hope. "Yes, Dorm Leader..."
And so he teaches you and all those who witness the devastating spectacle a lesson neither will ever forget.
Red is passionate and fiery, a reflection of roses and redamancy. But it is not a pleasant color. Not anymore. Not in the aftermath.
Red is the color of Riddle and Heartslabyul and blood and pain and anger. And every time you spy the slowly healing marks from that day, you feel it all over you. Red everywhere, inside and out. Externally, you may heal with all matter of magical cures, but internally it's not an easy fix.
So red is no longer a comfortable color. You wish you could look upon it and admire it for what it is: a color. But that proves impossible, for a color that is so highly revered as pretty does not evoke pretty feelings for you.
#twisted chit chat#n/sfw#yandere twst#tw: noncon#i need to replay book 1 because i often forget just how severe riddle was in the build-up to his overblot#could you imagine being the only female in the dorm and he regularly subjects you to pussy inspections#just to make sure you're not sleeping around with his students.......#ace and deuce are like 'man this dorm SUCKS'#but then you turn to them like 'does your housewarden stick his fingers inside you every day? no? then stop complaining'#they all have it bad at heartslabyul T_T and trey and cater provide no help whatsoever just a semi-sympathetic 'sorry guys :/'#you don't even want to think about what it might be like in another dorm if you transferred ;;;;
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Have a little Silen Fah fluff for your Sunday! :)
The wind whipped through the grey sky. The trees wildly tossed their heads. Even the house creaked and shuddered in the face of nature’s fury. But, safely wrapped in a fluffy blue wool blanket, Llevarta couldn’t feel cozier. She sipped her tea and turned another page of her book - an old ratty creature with no cover left, which Drackio said he’d found at a secondhand shop in Vluni Olinfah. Books were expensive - someone had had to painstakingly hand-copy it from the original manuscript, and they’d even drawn some pictures - so Llevarta didn’t care about the shape it was in.
Besides, the book was still perfectly usable. It was full of recipes and gardening advice, and interspersed with a handful of little personal anecdotes about the author’s life, as a farmer’s wife in Kohneta. Kohneta was a little-known and even less-visited place, on the “backside” of the Mervaen tis Ornaru. Most Jelturen didn’t even know it existed. She certainly hadn’t, until Drackio had brought her the book. But he’d guessed - correctly - that it would be up her alley. They lived in a very similar situation, here in their cabin in the woods, far from civilization.
They had to, really. Nobody would have approved of their marriage….
There was a gentle pit, pit, pit, on the thatched roof, that quickly became faster and louder as the cloudy sky broke open and released the rain. This house was small, and Llevarta could hear everything, as clearly as if she’d been sitting out in it. But it was a sturdy little building that didn’t let any wind or wet inside.
“Thank the Grandparents for houses,” Llevarta thought as she took another sip of tea. “This wouldn’t be very fun in a tent.”
The wind and the rain whirled about the house. The book pages fluttered. The little child in her womb gave her a gentle nudge, to remind her they were there. Slowly, the smell of the bread she’d put in the wood oven crept through the house. Soon her beloved would be home, and they could enjoy this coziness together.
What a lovely life.
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Kinktober submission:
Vouyerism ; masturbation 18+
She knew damn well who he was; she'd seen him while he was in Alexandria's little prison for so long. He'd been in there for a long time before Nina had even arrived at the community, ragged and desperate. They had been reluctant to take her in and help, and these years later she understood. She understood what strangers had done to them. She had heard what Negan had done.
Still. Who hadn't done regrettable things? Who hadn't gone crazy and devolved into their most primal state of humanity? Maybe being in a peaceful, relatively safe place skewed her judgment, but she wasn't afraid of him. It didn't hurt that he was hotter than hell itself; a temptation she wouldn't mind burning herself on.
So, one sultry summer evening as he worked alone weeding the garden outside her window, Nina found herself wondering what it would be like to bring Negan in and fuck him into a coma. She had to wonder which of them would beg for mercy first and decided it would be a long, delicious competition between them.
As he slipped out of his long sleeve shirt to reveal a wiry strength she had not entirely expected. After all, he was only let out of that cell so often even now. Granted, gardening was a physical chore, but he must spend a great deal of his time working out to stay strong. She wondered what else he did all alone in the dark, smiling at the thought of him lying on the mattress, lonely and bored, his hand slipping down into his pants to wake his cock up and rub one out - and who he might think of while he did.
He must've felt her eyes on him because he turned to look and met her gaze with those dark eyes that seemed to see right into a person's thoughts. The little smile he gave her added to that suspicion and made Nina's skin feel flush.
She hadn't planned on playing games with him, but when the opportunity presented itself she couldn't resist. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it up and over her head. She tossed it aside and saw that she had his undivided attention.
She cupped her breasts through the worn pink lace that hid very little of her small but perfectly shaped breasts. Her nipples hardened almost before her fingers grazed them, as if his gaze alone were enough.
Negan stopped what he had been pretending to do and watched, his lips parting slightly as he did. He licked his lower lip slowly as he watched and Nina imagined what it would feel like, that hot wet tongue tracing circles around her nipples, as she did exactly that with her fingers.
She slipped out of the lacy bra, emboldened by his interest. The breeze through the open window was sensual as it caressed her naked skin and blew her hair back from her face. Negan smiled at her, a full, cheeky grin that made her grow wet just because he had given it to her. He smiled like that at her, he liked what he saw and wanted her to know.
Nina moved out of view for a moment, and she hoped he didn't leave, but she couldn't remove her jeans gracefully and didn't want to ruin the show. When she stepped back into view, Negan had returned to gardening, but his eye was drawn back when he saw movement once again. Nina, now dressed only in a pair of pink lace panties, turned slowly and bent as if to pick something up off the floor.
She glanced back over her shoulder at him, and Negan nodded. He definitely liked what he saw. Sitting on the foot of her bed, Nina spread her legs and slid her hand into her panties, her eyes locked with his as her fingers found the swollen little nub and began to flick lightly at it.
Negan leaned on his hoe and watched admiringly. As she watched, he moved one long-fingered hand down to the front of his pants to adjust the obvious hard-on pressing against his zipper. Nina licked her lips at him and smiled. She wished she could taste his salty cock, but this was somehow more fun.
She rocked back on her backside and slid the panties off, sitting upright once more with her legs spread wide so he could see every bit of her and he shook his head at her to say she was torturing him in the most wonderful way. His hand was in his pocket now and she knew his hard cock was in his hand. A rush of wet heat flooded her and she bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud. She used her fingers to open herself even further, then slowly slid two fingers up inside herself slowly, savoring the way she could feel the touch on her skin in ways a faster, harder touch would forego. Her eye closed and she shivered at the feeling. When she opened her eyes Negan had looked away - glancing around to see if anyone else was around and might see the condition of his tented pants. No one was nearby and he looked back at her again.
She was too aroused to stop now, reaching under her mattress to withdraw a small, red tube shaped item - Negan's eyes narrowed slightly and then his head fell back slightly, his eyes wide as he continued to watch.
Nina turned on the vibrator, something she did frugally these days. Batteries were hard to come by, but desperate times called for desperate measures and she was quickly becoming desperate to come.
She touched the bullet vibrator to her aching clit and her legs closed around it reflexively. Her whole body reacted as she leaned forward, her tits thrust out and her head fell back. She wasn't looking at Negan anymore but certain he was watching every second of this. She sat up on her knees and put the toy between her heels before rocking back onto it and beginning to ride it as she imagined it were him.
She began to rub her clit in tight, firm circles and when her orgasm broke, she sat up on her knees so he saw the way she tightened so much that her arousal squirted out and down her legs.
Satisfied and smiling, she looked back to see the way he stared.
"Dirty, DIRTY girl!" He mouthed with that smile of his. Nina sauntered toward the window, winking at him as she casually dropped her panties out onto the grass before she pulled the shade down.
Negan was grinning as he walked casually her way to pick them up and place them in his pocket.
"Thank you, darlin'," he whispered in a hoarse, gravelly voice through the still open window before he walked away whistling happily.
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✤ — Universe: Seeker
✤ — Concept: The seelie is a companion he didn't know he'd learn to appreciate and grow fond of outside their spontaneous agreement.
Finding the time to journey through the nation of Mondstadt and continuing his research about understated introspective matters doesn't have to be mutually exclusive in his little accord with the seelie.
It doesn't take much other than proper adjustments—and if the Alchemist is going to be truthful, he'll say that he finds the situation rather comforting.
[Name]'s been nothing but a curious seelie, like a child who's just born into the world. Though he knows this to not be the case.
Unless she passed when she was a child, of course, and had little time to uncover the world.
Albedo's been feeling inquisitive and wishes to gain answers about his new companion, but the lack of literal verbal communication proceeds to be a restriction.
He's limited to closed-ended questions and so far has found out that [Name] has in fact, been roaming Teyvat for centuries. It had been complicated to decipher the jingles and sways, but he also miraculously found out that she was stuck in Inazuma a few months ago.
That, and plenty of other trivial things such as her favorite color, if she can perfectly understand him, and if she has a corporeal form.
As of the moment, Albedo is thinking of other ways to satiate his curiosity. Letting his mind whir and his hand fly across the paper, pencil in hand.
Today's little journey finds them atop Starsnatch Cliff.
[Name] has been flying somewhere nearby, looking for any clues about the person—the Alchemist still doesn't know who—she's looking for.
So as she goes about her mission, he decides to fill in his sketchbook that's recently drawn with sketches of the seelie in question.
He's conducted experiments—with approval, of course!—but all he's done so far is to change her color from [c] to red. She blended immaculately well with the warming seelies.
That resulted in a game of hide-and-seek, where Albedo had to talk to other seelies to try and find out if they'll respond the way [Name] does.
He doesn't think he'll forget the time he thought he found her what with the constant circling of the seelie around him, but turns out it had been a different one.
[Name] flew out from nowhere, still the color of a kindled flame, resounding nonstop jingles as though she's panicking. It's an amusing thing to see; a seelie chasing away another seelie.
“Were you afraid that I'll leave with a different one?”
With the mad chimes in response, the Alchemist realized that his companion can feel and process emotions. Much like any human.
And, much like any human, [Name] shows one trait that is common to people—but not much for a homunculus such as him.
Albedo stops drawing when he feels something soft, almost breezy, sensation snuggling onto his side. When he tilts his head, he sees [Name] nestling at his backside, echoing a chime at a regular interval.
That trait being endearing.
Or perhaps [Name]'s just a cuddle bug, as Klee cheerfully commented once when she was attacked with endless snuggling.
When perceived from a different angle, however, it may imply that before becoming a seelie, [Name] is someone who constantly finds the need to rely on someone.
Maybe that someone is who she's searching for?
The sound of constant jingles—the cadence he learned to be of content—incites him to look once more, finding his hand already open for the seelie to further cuddle into.
Her faintly translucent form overlays a tint of [c] on the whiteness of his sketchpad and he hums, mind ambling elsewhere again as [Name] makes herself comfortable beside him.
Perhaps they are, but until they are found, he'll savor this fleeting companionship he grew to be pleasant of.
a/n: mm i wonder who MC could be searching for.. :'))
@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021
#m-seeker#albedo x reader#albedo fluff#genshin fluff#genshin x reader#i swear if these tags aint working i-
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Superboy Vol 1 #136
We've seen the sole appearance of Mammoth Mutt, and now it's time for the sole appearance of the other inflatable canine hero of the S.P.C.A. - Mammoth Miss.
Five issues after Mutt's coming and going in the comic, the story 'Decoy of the Doom Statues!' reveals that he wasn't the only one with such a similar spherical power. During a bout of training amongst members, his former girlfriend Mammoth Miss steps in as the newest member. She wears the the S.P.C.A. uniform of a blue suit with black neck, belt and boots in addition to a white cape, compared to Mutt's blue limbless body suit with white markings.
The new member demonstrates her ability by inflating herself greatly and floating upwards, nowhere near the same gargantuan extent as her partner, but still grows around twice her height with a firmly round body outsizing everyone else. Her cape noticeably stirs up from her bobbing in midair, while she's moored in place by the elastic tail of Top Dog. The limbs stick out retaining the same proportions as normal. From the view of her first two panels comparing her different forms, we can take it that her inflated form would be too wide by the door she enters normally. (Pic 1)
We later see her putting her air powers to use by inflating a gift Krypto got for the Patrol, a series of cat-shaped balloons, filling them up on command due to having 'plenty of air to spare'. The level of roundness on Miss's body isn't the same as that of in the previous scene; while there she was perfectly round, here she looks less so, generally solid but with a clear divide of bulging fat from her belly, back and rear against the belt fitting across this abundantly bloated body. It's a clear and cute indication that her figure's shape undergoes noticeable changes from spending that collected air to fill up the balloons. (Pic 2)
Later on, Mammoth Miss is last seen using her powers to observe and relay the activity of the Black Cats accessing the hollow head of on of the S.P.C.A. memorial statues. She's described as 'floating balloon-like in the air', cape flapping in her position, body positioned so that we see the back of her, displaying the broad back and full rear all rounded into one great curve, her legs looking to be further apart than in the prior scenes. However, there's a couple of colouring issues packed in this swollen sight. The most obvious is her fur colour, it's meant to be dark brown but instead left white. A subtle one is that the blue of her right leg's suit, mostly obscured by her enormous backside, is also left white. And finally, while the tail is drawn, it's been given the wrong colour, made blue with her suit and just about sticking out against the bum. (Pic 3)
And that's Mammoth Miss's only appearance in comics. It's a nice display of inflation powers, one for the sake of demonstrating, then to inflate many balloons quickly and effectively, and for detecting and relaying important informatin for the rest of her team for the good guys to win.
The next corpulent canine to float around in DC that we'l look at will be the most well-known and recurring, the Mammoth Mutt of the Krypto the Superdog show.
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The Zone of Interest (2023, United Kingdom/Poland)
Over the last decade, English director Jonathan Glazer questioned whether it was appropriate for him to make a Holocaust movie from a Nazi perspective. Glazer, who comes from a Jewish family in north London, said that his family never spoke about the Holocaust at home, but it nevertheless loomed over their lives. His late father, when learning about Glazer’s decision to adapt Martin Amis’ novel The Zone of Interest, expressed disapproval. Yet Glazer forged ahead, his vision now complete.
I am no expert in the area of Holocaust cinema (of which there is a growing and always-controversial history) and do not profess to be a specialist of the Holocaust or Nazism. Nevertheless, I do believe it is possible to make a moral Holocaust narrative film from a Nazi point of view. Does Glazer succeed in doing so? That is a question that still perplexes me, and I am not sure if I can provide any satisfying answer. Given Glazer’s moral agonizing while making and within the visuals of this film, I am not sure if he knows either. So while I will still attempt to engage with the morality of The Zone of Interest (which, by many accounts, resembles little of Amis’ novel), this write-up’s premise will concentrate on two of the film’s goals as stated by Glazer himself.
The first is to immerse the viewer into the psychologies of Auschwitz concentration camp commandant Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel; Rudolf Höss was the longest-serving commandant of the camp) and his wife, Hedwig (Sandra Hüller), and understand how their mindset is similar to how the viewer compartmentalizes modern-day atrocities. In these respects, Glazer succeeds. Just. Secondly, Glazer, “wanted to remove the artifice of filmmaking” in order to make as natural a film as he could, so that the audience can pay stricter attention to what is occurring on-screen. This is where The Zone of Interest falters.
It is 1943 in Nazi-occupied Poland. The Höss family lives in an estate just outside the walls of Auschwitz. Some days, the five children and their parents spend a lazy outing at a nearby riverbend, swimming and enjoying nature. At home, the Höss parents shield their children from the ugliness of the Second World War and the mass human suffering occurring just beyond the walls of the camp next door. Hedwig’s perfectly manicured garden, replete with flowers for decoration and herbs for cooking, is her escape – a world without wants. A small pool in the spacious backyard provides the children plenty of swim time. On a clear day, we can see the smoke stacks of an approaching train in the distance, soon to drop off its passengers to a place worse than hell itself. At night, Auschwitz’s crematorium spews an unearthly red – piercing the sky and sneaking past the drawn curtains of the Höss estate. And at all hours, we hear gunfire and screaming emanating from inside the camp.
Never do cinematographer Łukasz Żal’s (2014’s Ida, 2018’s Cold War) cameras show any glimpses of life within Auschwitz’s walls. None of the human suffering wrought by the Nazis appears directly in the film. We have a fleeting glimpse, obscured by foliage and for purposes unclear, of chained prisoners walking outside the camp’s walls under military escort. In another moment in the Höss household, a female prisoner comes to Rudolf Höss’ office for what is presumed to be forced sex; we never see or hear from her again, as we witness him wash his genitals (filmed from his backside) after their encounter. The particulars of what the Nazis did to the inmates of Auschwitz and the other concentration camps is for another film, Glazer says, a self-admission that he cannot hope to capture that suffering in narrative or documentary form. The decision not to show any Holocaust cinema has precedent, as seen in Claude Lanzmann’s documentary Shoah (1985, France) – largely seen as the 566-minute magnum opus of Holocaust cinema.
Instead, Glazer is more interested in something that has become a cliché in all writings on The Zone of Interest – what philosopher Hannah Arendt deemed the “banality of evil” – in order to allow modern audiences understand their own complicity in contemporary atrocities. Writing on the 1960 trial of Adolf Eichmann (one of the crucial facilitators of the Holocaust) in Israel, Arendt’s definition of the “banality of evil” stemmed from her subject’s lack of ideological fanaticism towards Jews, coupled with his inclination towards professional progression if it meant not having to think critically about any moral issues tied to said progression.
Arendt’s definition of the “banality of evil” has been controversial ever since the publication of 1963’s Eichmann in Jerusalem – a common accusation that Arendt was trying to diminish the severity of Eichmann’s guilt (she was not). Controversies aside, The Zone of Interest, on a cinematic surface, adopts that same “banality of evil”. The Höss parents never engage in explicit anti-Semitic language or refer to Auschwitz’s inmates as subhuman. Though Rudolf washes his genitals after the presumed sexual encounter with the prisoner and Hedwig seems uneasy when going through the luxury clothes of incarcerated/deceased camp inmates, life otherwise appears normal. In a scene where Rudolf is meeting with a private contractor on a more efficient crematorium system, both Rudolf and the contractor speak not with genocidal terms, nor carefully-worded innuendos. Instead, their meeting covers only the mechanics of the proposed system, in numbers and cold engineering efficiency. Without the historical context of The Zone of Interest, that discussion might eerily fit in a plain industrial meeting (not so much a later meeting with other concentration camp commandants as they discuss an imminent influx of Hungarian Jews to their camps).
To what lengths can a person accept the rationalizations of a leadership bent on the mass slaughter of innocent people on an industrial scale? Similarly, how does one reckon with their ostensibly peaceful existence when that peace is made possible only by revolting violence just a stone’s throw away? For these questions, we never receive any answers from anybody in the Höss family or their associates depicted within this film or from history itself. They live life without examining themselves, with no hints of regrets.
With the Höss parents not providing potential answers, it then turns to the viewer to ask themselves those same questions. I do not wish to come off as a youth-basher, but younger (American) viewers will need additional context for this film, if generational rates of Holocaust denialism are to be believed. For the rest of us, can we imagine ourselves turning a blind eye or going about our daily lives knowing that our happiness rests on the oppression, subjugation, or mass murder of a people? What do you share, personally, with Rudolf and Hedwig Höss? Does The Zone of Interest, in reaction to popular Hollywood Holocaust dramas of the 1990s and 2000s (see: 1993’s Schindler’s List, 2002’s The Pianist), paint the Holocaust as a non-unique event? This is a provocative work from a filmmaker who, in the absence of a grander narrative or intentional moralizing in his work, turns all of the introspection onto the audience. Beyond that, the film in and of itself is ideologically hollow.
The other half of Jonathan Glazer’s aims for The Zone of Interest was to create a film with minimal cinematic artifice. Łukasz Żal’s unobtrusive compositions and mostly-still camera certainly help in this regard, but too often some of the interior shots of the Höss household appear as if they are coming from the corners of the room, like anachronistic security camera footage. Most anachronistic of all are the black-and-white scenes in night vision for exterior shots of a young girl leaving apples around workplaces at Auschwitz. How jarring that the most humanistic moments of The Zone of Interest appear in the most visually artificial scenes of the film. The use of a night vision camera broke whatever hold The Zone of Interest had on me, cinematically. It comes off as a needless artistic flourish, as if to impress a captive audience.
Worst of all is Mica Levi’s horrific and unlistenable score. The score, for the ten to fifteen minutes it plays (hardly a score given a 106-minute runtime), is an atonal howler that shares a close relationship with the sound mix* – to the point where numerous other film critics have conflated the two. If Glazer is attempting to dissociate his film from the artifices of cinema, I cannot think of a better encapsulation of how quickly he fails than with this collaboration with Levi. In a time when many directors are telling their composers that they do not want noticeable music (in most instances, a fundamental misunderstanding about the dramatic and emotional capabilities of film music), Levi’s score is inescapable. Its heavy sonic distortions; complete dismissal of any familiar intonation (one of Levi’s primary influences is experimental composer Harry Partch, whose music obliterates the familiar seven pitches of a diatonic scale in favor of a 43-tone scale with uneven intervals); and bizarre use of electronically-manipulated choral screaming (a kitschy musical decision that borders on the insensitive and tasteless) might perfectly set the tone for some viewers. For myself – especially the scenes shot in night vision and the moment the screen fades to red – it was a discordant distraction that, again, only served to take me out of the movie.
The best film scores have several disparate but heavily interdependent and coequal qualities: they empower, but not overtake, the comedic/dramatic and emotional power of a movie and its narrative (if a narrative is present); they should typify exemplary musicianship (in composition and performance); and the viewer should be able to hear the music. Levi and Glazer share the failure on the the first two aspects. It is only on this third aspect that Mica Levi’s work truly contributes to The Zone of Interest – a film that would be better treated without a score.
The Zone of Interest raises pertinent questions of culpability and human responsibility in reckoning with humanity at its worst. There are moments in here – mostly scenes in which the reality of the Holocaust leaves its terrible shadow over the Höss family, moments where you expect them to possibly recoil from what they are doing – that stick with me, and haunt my ruminations over how I rationalize living in a society built on violence. Crucially, The Zone of Interest is not unique in inspiring such thoughts in a person, as some are suggesting. Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon (2023) and Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave (2013) also provoked a similar introspection in me – these films depict two episodes within the context of the two original sins of my home nation. And though neither of those films centralize the goodness of others (far from it), if one looks close enough, one can find the banality of good (amid more naturalistic filmmaking).
In the end, Jonathan Glazer’s treatment of The Zone of Interest buckles underneath the weight of his promise to forego the conventions of art cinema. His objectives conflict with the artistic trappings – in its cinematography, music, sound mix, and an intellectual remove from human nature that I am unsure is appropriate for this subject matter – found within. It leaves his promise utterly broken.
My rating: 5/10
^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog. Half-points are always rounded down.
* You hear nearly everything in this film. Sometimes, a little too perfectly. There are several moments in The Zone of Interest in which you hear the screams of Auschwitz’s prisoners or gunshots and they sound as if they are far too close to the Höss household than they should be. It reminded me, to paraphrase Larry Mantle on the December 15, 2023 episode of FilmWeek, of stage plays using off-stage tapes to play sounds for activities ostensibly not occurring "on stage". While that might work in a stage play, that is not the sort of comparison I wish to be making when writing on a film.
For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.
#The Zone of Interest#Jonathan Glazer#Christian Friedel#Sandra Hüller#Ralph Herforth#Daniel Holzberg#Sascha Maaz#Martin Amis#Łukasz Żal#Paul Watts#Mica Levi#Tarn Willers#Johnnie Burn#A24#31 Days of Oscar#My Movie Odyssey
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So with persephones "dread queen" outfit finally here (despite us already seeing it before) I had a thought - so rs designed persephone to typically dress as a bride (so in white a lot) which is usually used to symbolize innocence and purity as well and now when she is the "dread queen" a queen yes, but dread perhaps implying shes now fully embracing her "dark side"? And wearing an all black outfit.... Is rs trying to use color theory here and reinforce white outfits = good and black = bad?? Or at least ones inner darkness or something? Cause that's... Not great.
Also idk if youve read the current chapter but Why is Persephone naked? Before getting her outfit. Did we need yet another shot of her naked backside? And the almost gratuitous shots of her eating the pomegranate seemed to be framed so Persephone looks hot while doing it what with the juice running down her chin....
Honestly I don't fully mind the outfit symbolism.. mine main problem is like... why do her boobs look so fake. Like damn you expect a feminist comic to draw boobs correctly. Most of the time you can write off the perfectly round, push together, and pushed up boobs on them just wearing a bra under their clothes but with this... I mean their just out there.
Like her boobs just look so weird?? like I wouldn't be surprised if this was like a horny anime or something but again this is suppose to be a "feminist" comic why can't the boobs be drawn even a bit normally.
Like unless Persephone has a magic invisible bra there are no way this dress could keep her tits like that. Like as someone with the big titties™ this dress would never work and just immediately the boobs would fall out.
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oc-tober day 1 - "home"
♤ kiki wakes up early.
♤ 507 words
♤ prompt from @oc-tober2023
♤ i challenged myself to do a no dialogue piece for this one since i always rely so heavily on character interaction and i think it went ok :))
Kiki rose from her bed.
She stretched out her arms above her head as she sat up, her lavender comforter falling to her lap. The artificial window showed sunlight, but she knew it had to be too early for that.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she looked to her side. Kidd was still there. Kidd was a dirtied old fellow who'd been everywhere Kiki had, a gift from her favorite cousin for her fourth birthday. Grey stripes covered the little cat, small enough to fit in a pocket, eyes of black plastic that reflected the light in a way that made them look like they'd had highlights drawn in.
She lifted him into her arms and tucked him into the pocket of her pajama pants, beige, covered in little bears and smelling like the closet they'd been pulled out of when she'd arrived. She left his head poking out to make sure she'd never lose sight of him. She was an anxious child, undeniably, from the way she was brought up. Kidd would be taken from her sometimes as punishment - she would wake up without her only true comfort in her home beside her and find out later that it was because she'd missed the fact that her math homework had a backside or that she didn't eat enough of her dinner.
She walked on her toes out the door and descended the stairs down the hall to the first floor of the building, then popped her head out the front door. Sure enough, the fireflies were still out. The sun hadn't yet risen.
The girl found a strange charm in the confusing world she'd found herself in. A world where trees were made of polygons and where one could access a black void just neighboring where they worked, a world where time was read in symbols and nobody could seem to remember quite what the cashier at White Castle looked like. Finding beauty in the horror of it all helped her cope - she had died, after all, and couldn't remember how. It had been a week since then, and already, she had forced tears so many times that she found it hard to tell whether she was really crying. That was her job. To present a story, to make whoever was next on the King's list pity her. She didn't dare question the consequences if she refused.
If "home" could simply be defined as a place one lives, this would have been it. And she thought about that as she looked up at the sky, perfectly-shaped clouds gliding past, holding up Kidd as if he could watch the stars glimmer with her. This didn't feel quite like home, not yet. But she didn't truly know home, and she never had. Home always felt too far away. Something she could try to visualize but had no hope of reaching.
Whatever. Whether she liked it or not, she told herself, this was home now.
And she'd just have to get used to it.
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❝ all those modifications and your stamina is still shit. i would get a refund , seems like a waste of both money and hardware. ❞ sitting on the trunk of his car she hooks her legs around his waist , reeling him in like the catch of the day , closing what little distance there was between them. she hates everything about night city , the climate , the people , the politics -- it was a prison made of steel and concrete. a nightmare for her yet the perfect hunting ground for those with appetites that could never be sated. monsters of all varieties hiding in plain sight. even the outskirts ( more wasteland than anything else ) felt suffocating , but she endures it for him.
“It ain’t my stamina”, he says, although his breath is coming hard, chest heaving as the bloodied scratches upon it close over. He would worry about the exposure to the setting sun, but the cocktail of drugs boosting his natural regeneration have been pumping for hours, directly into his spine. It has allowed him a resistance to the burning, fading daylight that may otherwise have incinerated him. Lira may have a distaste for bodily modification, but this in the least he thinks they can agree on is a welcome addition.
“It’s you”, his panting slows, normalizes as he runs his hands up her naked thighs, clasping around her backside and enjoying the firm roundness. Perfectly pointed titanium teeth dig into his bottom lip drawing pinpricks of blood that course down his face. In no time at all he is ready again.
Stamina be damned, his recovery is still more than adequate.
Here at the outer edges of Westbrook, high up on the hill with nothing but open sky and luxury villas around, them they are as close to alone as one might be in Night City. It was smart to steal the Aerondight, it’s curved chassis fits them comfortably, the angle even aiding their repetitious fucking. The only distraction pulling away from this perfect moment is the corpse of the driver starting to stink. He had consumed most of the unfortunate, but was distracted by the beauty of his lover coated in crimson. As always, her partaking in his own viscous feeding habits had driven his lust for her. To watch her enjoy (or at least participate in) the consumption of human meat awoke a bestial need locked away for no other than her. The very reimagining has him near ready to burst
It really is her fault.
It may have served him well to more adequately learn that pleasure was able to be drawn out, luxuriated in. Severen races to every precipice, climbs every summit only seeking the next peak.
Watching the orange rays of dying light dance off her luminous hair, highlight her pallid skin in a sunset glow, he can hardly contain his desire. Least of all when he knows for certain she is not yet worn out herself. The desperate man leans up to brace his teeth upon her nipple, lapping his tongue against the sensitive tip. If there is anything he takes his time doing, it is worshiping her body, her form, though his devotion goes much deeper.
Her scent, indescribably worldly, of the earth, the very core of nature itself. Wild forests, green and vibrant, decaying leaves, fragrant at the end of their life. Her eyes reflecting the greenery from which she was birthed, golden hue perhaps stolen from the moon itself.
Otherworldly, yet more apart of it than those that populate it so profusely; one of the few still worthy to tread upon its scarred surface. How one such as her has come to love him he cannot fathom, and does not dare to question.
Palms that are one of the few untouched elements of his awkwardly cybernetic body roam over her stomach, flattened now, though within once grew their child. A creature who now roams the skies freely.
They course around to her back, pulling her even closer to shut out any gap that may exist between them, that is, beside the one thing that stiffly presses upon them both. He kisses and nips at the underside of her chin admiring the way the fading light reflects off the scar and down the long neck whose ivory skin had only just faded away the previous bruises of his affections. He reaffirms his claim, biting in to taste of her invigorating ichor, so much grander than the swill he had sated himself with hours earlier. She is life (and death) to him, and it fortifies him in a way that no amount of metal can. Body more than rejuvenated, strengthen not just in the flesh but something akin to the spirit itself.
She can give this all to him, a strength beyond the measure of his own supernatural ability.
Despite the natural boon it grants, he is reticent to be without the addition of his modifications now. Enhancements that were once a fantasy are achievable, make him more the monster he became trapped in the dark world. Now he is free from the confines of shadow, a prowler amongst the sheep at any time of day. They even celebrate his heinous prowess. The denizens of the city feeding off the experience of his destruction of them, fueling both his appetite and his ego. Praising his savagery and delighting in the abhorrence of his nature.
He was made for such things.
But not she.
She remains a pure force of nature, even amongst the dredges of filth. Unspoiled by their tyranny of the land, though she takes equal pleasure in doling out punishment for their blasphemy.
Lira’s temptations do not lie where his do, her flesh is not limited as his own is.
This is evident after his mouth is awash in the refreshment that he craves more than anything else, cleansing his palette from the pollution that chokes the life from the world.
Severen pulls at her hips, hoping to bury his twitching erection within her, just another greedy creature looking to reap from the earth’s bountiful treasures. But unlike most he does earnestly love her.
A worshipful affection that is the last true piece of him left. Through all he might manipulate and change, all the evolution that may occur, what is constant is this. Severen loves Lira with a human heart that is full of only her.
All encompassing, inexorably committed for eternity to her side.
His patience depletes just as quickly as any other time, touching her in all her favored places, snaking his hands through her wild curls, burying his face into her fragrant tresses. He grows desperate to have her, fiendish to have again what he can never seem to have enough of. An appetite just as insatiable as the one he has for blood.
“Spark”, he moans into her bare chest, clasping at her waist, doing his damndest to last.
She stills him with a growl, denting him into the metal as she pushes him back. She forcefully slows him to a stop, then takes control of all motion. Binding him down with only her hands. Severen smiles in delight, an ecstasy at watching her roll her hips atop him.
He groans loudly, clearing his mind to focus only on her. The sound of her breath, the feel of her warmth, inside and out. He must have been doing something right because he can hear her begin to hitch, grinding down harder to press her clit into his pelvis as he fills her. Lira’s nails tear at him as she finds her orgasm, taking it first before he might shift or ruin her moment. Severen would not dare to spoil this moment for her, he has been trained well.
If for nothing else, for the pleasure it gives to him in return.
By the time she comes to a stop he is ready to finish. Clutching at her hips once more he thrusts up into her only managing a handful of times before a dark precipice clouds his mind.
A series a deep snarls claw out of his throat as he reaches a climax of release. Although he was an unnatural being, he had limitations himself.
“I th-think I’m spent” he groans as she dismount from him, finding only her own wetness and what he had left inside her previously. She has truly drained him dry. Their activities have left him hungry again, and near exhausted; despite his instance that the chrome implanted in him provided substantial gains.
Lira seems unimpressed, perhaps for show, or truly just enjoying proving his efforts to “modernize” useless in comparison to her. He would already have admitted such.
He can’t help but find her natural god-like abilities alluring. Attracted to her ineffable power as much as her physical beauty. She lies back languorously as darkness covers the land. It is almost possible to pick out a few stars in the light blurred sky. If Severen were to admit any fault of this new world it would be its obfuscation of the night. He does miss real dark.
As they gaze at the heavens he reaches out to clasp her hand, no intention to crowd his heart's spark, even though he is ever eager to be close to her. They move close.Folding into one another, trying to find comfort on the rigid body of metal.
It grows too cumbersome, and they decide to go elsewhere.
Severen says he knows of a nice place up the hill. It even has a pool. Lira looks none too impressed to be inside a human domicile. But it is further away from the ever lively city of night. Tossing the previous owner out of the vehicle they climb in and they take the short trip up to the cabana of a rich and famous dweller.
Ready for a change in scenery in which to recuperate.
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“Oh man. That guy is so far gone on you, Kate,” Luca teased, busting her eyeing the very pert backside of the man who just kissed her breathless as he walked away. “He’s so, so gone.”
She flushed, ducking her head to hide the burn across her cheeks with her dark hair. “I don’t know,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. In spite of it, her chest filled with warmth because Luca wasn’t far wrong. If Rourke really wasn’t as fond of her as he seemed, then he was one hell of an actor. “Maybe.”
Luca met her gaze, eyebrows up and grinning madly.
“Oh, like you can talk,” she huffed back pointedly, trying to shift the conversation back to Luca’s favourite subject in an effort to hide her own embarassment. “Ryan made goo goo eyes at you all night at dinner.”
“That’s because I was giving him a handie under the table,” Luca quipped back dismissively. They both laughed even as Kate’s cheeks went pinker at the thought. Luca’s lack of shame lately was sometimes surprising. Kate didn’t recall him having such an open attitude to sex, but she supposed the pilot had a lot to do with that.
It seemed there was something in the water here, or maybe it was just the magnetic pull of the O’Riain bloodline that was changing her opinions too. Because lately, she had looked at herself in the mirror and seen a woman she didn’t recognize. Someone who was bruised beautifully with perfectly shaped love bites, swollen lips and a heavy lidded gaze because she had been turned completely boneless by a pair of incredibly talented hands.
Now, she was missing those hands. Already craving his lips. Rourke had slipped between her legs early in the morning - long before the sky turned orange – to claim her. Shifting her legs over his shoulders and huffing warm breath and soft kisses along her core until he had drawn her out of sleep. And then, when she had been fully awake, he’d started on her in earnest- lapping, sucking, fucking her with his tongue until she could barely take anymore and she pulled him up to find his face shiny and wet from her juices.
It was filthy but she loved to grip his hair and kiss the taste of herself from his mouth.
“Katie,” he had groaned and the sound was music to her ears. “My girl...”
“I need you,” she’d whispered back and that was all it took for Rourke to snap and lose all control. He’d fucked her so hard she saw stars, her throat became hoarse from screaming and her body ached from trying to force him as deep as possible. Luca had whispered to her once, eyes alight over cups of Devonshire tea in the local village teahouse during one of their exploratory ventures beyond the estate, of how it felt like he couldn’t ever get enough, couldn’t ever feel close enough. Like he could crack open Ryan’s chest and crawl inside and he would still crave more, that he was restless and unsettled unless they were joined.
She understood that need now. That fierce desire to meld into the other person. She wanted it so badly with Rourke and every step he took away from her felt like physical pain.
She was in love with him. That much was clear. Even not knowing what he did, what he was other than a vague unease when she saw him slip into the dark and return with bruised knuckles and blood on his boots. That alone should terrify her but she knew she was nothing but safe in his arms.
She looked towards the door he had disappeared through and Luca gave her a knowing smirk.
“Go,” he said easily. “If you hurry, you’ll catch him before he makes it out of the gate.”
Kate didn’t need to be told twice.
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Online Shopping Part 2
‘Alexia smirked at you as her head dipped between your legs licking a strip up your drenched…’
You quickly closed the tumblr app as the coach came to a stop outside Hampden Park Stadium.
“Oye y/n/n are you looking at lingerie again you look a bit flushed?” Jenni teased as the team started standing up in order to depart the coach.
“You going to dress up for me y/n?” Mapi Leon shouted from a few rows in front which quickly earned her an elbow to the ribs by Leila Ouahabi who was stood next to her frowning.
“I’m joking, dios mío!” Mapi replied in earnest trying to convince the taller woman.
Mapi was pushed down the aisle by her team mates who were eager to leave the bus.
Ona slapped you lightly on the back as she passed you a smile plastered on her face.
You hung back letting the others leave, Alexia, who had been sitting in the row behind you had a smirk on her face as she paused to look at you.
“So are you?” She asked stepping closer.
You gulped, reading fan fiction about herself and Alexia had not been a good idea when she was surrounded by other people.
“Am I what?” You replied confused by what she was asking.
Alexia’s mouth was suddenly next to your ear and she nipped your ear lobe.
“Drenched?” She asked, being the last two on the bus she brought her hand up squeezed your breast.
You didn’t respond, you couldn’t respond. No matter how many times you had fucked the instant arousal from just being near Alexia clouded your mind.
“Always be aware of what people can see from behind you y/n/n!” She whispered before hoisting her kit bag up her shoulder and walking down the aisle, she paused at the end realising your weren’t behind her.
“Are you coming?” She winked before defending the steps.
You signed, grabbing your own kit bag and made your way to the exit.
“I wish.”
———————————————-
You lined the ball up perfectly on the spot, taking a deep breathe you take a few steps backwards.
Alexia had drawn a foul in the box, this was your chance you help Spain take the lead.
You aimed for the top bin and struck the ball perfectly, Scotland’s goalkeeper Alexander dove the wrong way and you heard the swooshing of the net.
Alexia was on you in seconds, her legs wrapped around your waist as She kissed your forehead cheering. Your team mates surrounded you, each hugged your shoulder as Alexia was still in your arms.
“You should probably get down now Ale you whispered to her. Alexia blushed not realising she had been clinging to you.
The match continued 1-0, you took a few knocks from the Scottish players, you spotted a loose pass from Weir and run top speed towards it only to feel impact in the small of your back, you struggled to stop yourself, you managed to jumped over the ball but stumbled clattering into the perimeter advertising.
The sound the crowd made was like as if they had collectively taken in a sharp breath. Worryingly you felt nothing until you wiped away what you assumed to be sweat from your forehead.
That’s when you caught sight of the blood on your hands, across the pitch you could see the medics scrambling to get to you, next to you Mapi was pushing the small Scottish player Cuthbert to one side to get to you. One look at you and her face paled, she turned abruptly and shoved Cuthbert backwards until she tumbled onto her backside.
It was as the crowd was leaving, the sound was getting further away.
Then Alexia appeared in front of you, cradling your face in her hands.
“Stay awake y/n, for Christ sake just stay awake please baby.”
In an effort to stop her from being covered in the blood that seemed to spurt liberally from your head you grabbed her forearm, thus covering her in blood anyway.
Was everyone leaving? Why was it so quiet?
“Baby.” You were sure that was Alexia’s voice but you couldn’t tell, your head hurt and you felt so tired you could barely keep your eyes open. So you let them close.
The beeping noise was coming closer.
You were not physically there, you knew that, you were not physically anywhere but your mind was. As the beeping noise got closer and closer you could hear voices. It sounded like you were underwater. Focusing on the voices trying to decipher what they were saying you had blocked out the beeping until it was so close it felt as if it was beside you.
You jerked awake, your body shuddering as if falling in your sleep.
“Y/n!”
“Get a doctor.”
“She’s awake, what do we do she’s awake.”
“She’s not Frankensteins Monster Mapi we get a doctor.”
With sheer willpower you opened your eyes. Red shirts crowded the room, it was bewildering.
Everyone continued talking over one another, until a stern voice called out.
“Right everyone out, I need to see my patient.” The Glaswegian insisted. A stern looking women with greying hair and wiry glasses perched on the end of her nose. She couldn’t have more than 5 foot in height but the chatter died down.
You wanted to call out but your throat was dry and constricted. You coughed, thankfully the Doctor brought a beaker with a straw to your lips.
“Thank you.” You managed to get out.
The Doctor ushered your team mates out of the room.
“Ale.” You sounded desperate, you knew that but you needed to know she was there.
“I’m here y/n.” Alexia grabbed your hand. Her eyes were red.
“You’ve been crying?” You asked concerned for the older woman.
“Well aye Miss y/ln you gave your team mates quite a fright and they to my other patients might I add. Are they always this loud?”
Alexia hung her head shaking it in amusement, you giggled which caused your Captain to make eye contact with you.
“So y/n.” The Doctor caught your attention ad she stood at the foot of your hospital bed with your medical notes in her hands.
“Do you remember what happened?” The Doctor probed.
You thought back, your memories seemed jumbled and hard to pin down.
Alexia looked at you worried.
“No.” You admitted.
“You came in with a subdural hematoma, a concussion. MRI showed no cranial bleeds. We’ve surtured the head wound, you may have some scarring to the area of impact other than that I am going to have the nurses monitor you for the next hour and then my dear you are free to go.”
“What about flying home?” Alexia asked earnestly.
“I cannot see any reason at this moment however if y/n’s symptoms change or worsen we will need to reevaluate.”
The Doctor scribbled some notes on the paperwork before returning it to the slot at the end of the bed.
“Nice to meet you both, even if you beat us.” The Doctor chuckled leaving the room.
You looked at Alexia, she looked exhausted, she was still covered in grass stains, and, you suddenly noticed blood.
“Ale what happened are you ok?” You asked nodding your head at the blood on her arms.
Alexia stood up, she practically climbed on the bed to hug you.
“It’s not my blood.” She said pressing kisses over your face, she stopped near your mouth looking at you for permission.
You caught her lips with your own, it was a soft kiss.
You pulled back, looking into her eyes.
“You’re not going to hurt me.” You comforted her. She met your lips again this time with more aggression.
“I was so worried.” She said breaking for air before kissing you again.
“There was so much blood.” Her tongue run along your bottom lip.
“I don’t wanna just be casual anymore.” She breathed. You didn’t respond causing her to stop kissing you. Your eyes were closed, scared if you opened them she would see everything, the emotions, the feelings you had for her.
“Y/n?” She asked, about to get off the bed.
You grabbed her waist practically pulling her on top of you.
“I don’t want to be casual either.” You admitted, finally opening your eyes.
“I know we said no feelings but I fucked up.” You maintained eye contact, it was now or never.
Alexia sighed playing with your fingers.
“I fucked up too.”
You smiled and leaned in for another kiss.
“Well that’s the strangest way I’ve ever heard two people say I love you.”
Alexia pulled back so quickly she practically fell off the bed.
You would have been offended had it not been for the apologetic look on her face and the way she sat back down next to you on the bed gently stroking your hair.
“I was about to ask why Ale was calling you baby earlier but no need.” Mapi grinned.
Your team mates crowded the door, some craning their necks to see what was going on.
“What happened I can’t see.” Marta’s voice carried over from the back of the cluster of women in the doorway.
“We found out who y/n was modelling the lingerie for.” Mapi shouted in response.
Alexia blushed and hid her face in your neck.
“I knew something was going on!” Jenni cheered, she climbed onto the bed the other side of you.
“I’m not going to do the best friend thing and threaten you y/n because we all know if we threw hands I would own you.” She paused smirking at Ale. “And not in the way Ale probably does.
Alexia’s arm shot out to slap Jenni on the arm.
“Ouch, y/n is she always like this?” She laughed.
You relaxed into Alexia’s arms.
“Only in the bedroom.” You winked.
#alexiaimagine#espwnt#womens football#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso#la reina#laroja#imagine#alexiaputellas#alexiaxreader#scownt#spain women#womens soccer
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— “SHARING IS CARING + DABI/TOUYA TODOROKI.” ft. shoto todoroki.
author’s note(s): i havent written in days bc ive been working on other things but here’s this bc i am a whore. btw reader and shoto are third years/18 in this so hold onto your wigs lol.
warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut, dark content, dub-con, manipulation, cheating, choking, breath play, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyerism kinda, corruption!kink, virginity loss, degradation. characters aged up to 18. fem!reader.
touya todoroki has always been better than his brothers, at everything. praised from a young age for his powerful abilities, handsome face and charming smile— touya is the todoroki family’s prized gem. the favourite, prodigy son. the one who always gets what he wants. of course, until precious shoto todoroki arrives.
shoto, the undeniably gorgeous boy with dual chrome eyes and hair to match— an aloofness about him that draws everyone in, especially at school where he excels and wears himself at the top of his class in U.A academy. now; he’s everyone’s favourite boy, endeavour’s, his mother’s and yours. you, the sweet and innocent little girl who lives about two blocks away. the whole neighbourhood knows who you are, the apples of your cheeks stretched into a darling smile, that’s sometimes etched with an air of shyness when someone compliments you on how pretty you are.
you have doe eyes that watch shoto with such awe because you’re so impressed by what he can do, because you love how kindly he treats you and how he protects you from hungry stares belonging to others. touya finds your innocence annoying; the first time his younger brother brings you for dinner. the way you stutter over your words when speaking with rei or enji and how hide behind shoto whenever the eldest enters the room.
but you’re nice to look at, he can see why his pest of a younger sibling keeps you around. does shoto realise how far your skirt rides up over your ass whenever you bend over? how your thighs resembling pillows spill over the tops of your school socks? and how your lips are always so bitten and cherry red— everything about you is so fuckable.
and like i said, touya todoroki always gets what he wants.
“i’m better than him, aren’t i sweetness? you like the way this cock fucks you. c’mon, tell me how good i make you feel.”
touya doesn’t really need an answer, especially when it’s unlikely that he’ll get one from you. pretty little girl, sweet ass up in the air and raw from the onslaught of spanks he’d given you earlier. your cunt shines with a slickness he so proudly knows that he’s caused and your hole puckers around nothing— so eager to be filled by the eldest todoroki’s cock. “t-touya, need you. p-please...” you babble, clawing at his black linen sheets, already stained with nectar from your leaky cunny.
oh you’re so good, so nice for him when you’re fucked dumb and on the edge of frustration— you say just what he wants to hear, so eager to please that you’d beg him for days if it meant you’d get your pussy abused and used. “that’s right little girl, you need me, right? ‘cause lil sho can’t take you the way i do. you need me to show you what it’s like to feel good.”
touya lives for the way your hips jump back from just his dirty words alone, clit pushing deliciously against the tip of his length— you’re so cute when you want it. when you wanna be fucked by an older, more experienced dick. you know that touya has what shoto doesn’t. you know you can always rely on him to make you cum when shoto can’t.
any decent older brother would feel bad for taking advantage of his sibling’s girl, but touya has a point to prove. he’ll always be the better todoroki, he knows that, especially when his burning cock sinks into your tight hole— the one that welcomes him into your velvet walls, so perfectly carved into the shape of him.
a drawn out and gargled whine bubbles in the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes roll so far back into your head touya would have thought you’d passed out, it wouldn’t have been the first time either.
oh no, he remembers the way he’d made your fleshy thighs quiver and your meek voice turn to screams when he’d taken you in the bathroom across the hall from shoto’s bedroom the first time you stayed the night. or the time that he’d cornered you in the kitchen while you made a study snack for you and your boyfriend, carelessly flipping your skirt up and creaming in your virgin cunt until all you could say were mindlessly repeats of his name. touya. his name always sounded so pretty against jumbled words that slid across your tongue.
that one time in the kitchen, touya had sent you back to shoto’s room with your pink lace panties full of his pungent seed and had listened to shoto fuck it deeper inside of you later that night when you let the younger take you for the first time. touya wonders if his little brother truly believes he was lucky enough to take your virginity or if he knows how much of a whore you are for the eldest, white haired sibling. possession flares in his chest at the very thought, making him plunge himself into the deepest parts of you while you quiver like a little bitch below him.
his piercings drag up and down your gummy walls, friction causing you to drool amongst the pillows that you drown in. touya’s large hand pushes down on the small of your back, shaping your body into an uncomfortable arch— you whimper but don’t complain. taking his dick like you should, accepting him like you should. his balls, oh so heavy with cum, slap against your cheeks while your juices paint his tummy from how much you leak and the lewd sounds fill the air so loud, there’s no doubt poor little shoto todoroki can hear it through the walls.
“sweetness, you’re so bad— sneaking off to let your boyfriend’s big brother make you scream. you’re just a slut for the todoroki dick...aren’t ya? you’d probably let nat in on it too...” touya slurs, drooling at the way your backside bounces with every slam of his hips into you.
“n-no-! no... ‘m not a slut...not a—!” you squeal pathetically, barely able to finish your sentence as touya shoves your face into the sheets harshly— deep chuckle reverberating in his chest as he presses it to your sweaty back.
you still yourself, taking all what he gives to you even if it means you can barely breathe. the eldest todoroki lifts a hand to knock on the thin walls separating him from his little brother; words coming out as breathless as he thrusts into you deeper, harder, faster— abusing your barely prepped hole. “ya’hear that sho, yur lil angel’s not as innocent as you think; she’d let all of us fuck her if we asked nicely...” the way he speaks about you is mean; it could make you cry but all you do in response is clamp down on the man above you and suck him in deeper, selfishly just like he’d taught you. he smirks with pride at how much your cunt lives for him, at how his little brother is getting the show of his life time— probably jerking off to the sounds of his girl getting railed but someone who isn’t him.
touya’s hips stutter and he cums inside you with a shout, thick ropes of his hot seed spraying against your walls and seeping between your puffy folds. ringed fingers find your clit, drawing circles into them until you tip over the edge and tumble into your own release, clamping down so hard that you draw blanks from your boyfriend’s older brother. the way you twitch after touya’s emptied himself inside you, letting him press down on the sweet bulge at your tummy so his cum leaks out— almost makes him want to brush the hair away from your face and kiss you, but he remains objective— treating you as proof that he will always be the superior sibling.
when he’s pulled out of you and helped you to shaky legs to leave— he watched the regret wash over your innocent features like it always does when he’s made a woman out of you. “tell my little brother i said; sharing is caring, sweetness.” touya asks of you oh-so-kindly, revelling in the way your bottom trembles and a fresh set of tears well in your bambi eyes.
what? he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to make you cry, but that would defeat the purpose if he was telling the truth.
#tteokdoroki#cw dubcon#bnha dabi#dabi#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha smut#mha x you#mha x reader#mha smut#dabi x reader#dabi x you#dabi x female reader#dabi smut#dabi imagine#dabi scenarios#dabi headcanons#dabi drabble#dabi fanfic#dabi fic#dabi angst#dabi hcs#touya todoroki#touya todoroki x reader#touya todoroki smut#bnha dabi smut#shoto todoroki#shoto todoroki smut#todoroki smut#todoroki x reader
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WIP Game: sleepy smut 🥺🥺🥺
wip game || open
nsfw under the cut
“Good mornin’” he said, burying his face into the back of her neck.
“You’re poking me,” she mumbled.
“Not my fault,” he mumbled into her hair, “you’re too sexy.”
She weakly slapped his hand, but ultimately didn’t do too much to reprimand his morning dirty talk, still too deep in the grasp of sleep to care much.
“Dreamt about your last night,” he murmured.
“A good dream?” She asked.
“Yeah,” he growled into her ear, “real good.”
He gripped onto her hip before giving a firm thrust into her backside, letting her feel his erection through his boxers and eliciting a squeak from her. In response, she began to grind against him, which was rewarded with a long, drawn-out moan, before he slipped a hand between her thighs, running his fingers across the sensitive skin and giving it a quick squeeze.
Lucy let out a whine as he teased her, aching for his contact, but that only spurred him on more. Fingers trailed up and down her inner thigh before lightly brushing over the inner seam of her shorts causing her to buck at his touch.
Natsu would have been perfectly content to continue touching her like that, but before he knew it, he found himself shoved on his back as Lucy shuffled out of her shorts and began to straddle him.
“Look who’s impatient today,” he teased, resting his arms behind his head as he took in the view.
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