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ibettertakethisoffshelby · 1 year

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cw: m*mmy kink, use of "baby girl" for reader (sex neutral)

minors dni

no thoughts just Hitch coming closer and closer until her mouth is right up against your ear, hands lovingly placed on your shoulders, she almost whispers

"What do you need?"

you can't even talk, you place your hands on her back and hope the desperation in your eyes gives you away

"Do you need some love?"

you're choking up, you try to nod, but it comes out looking like a lagging robot

she just smiles- "Is that what you need? You need a bit of loving?"

all you can manage is some choked squeaks and a face like the bottom emoji

she hasn't ever brought this next idea up before, but she wants to see if her hunch is right

she decides to take the risk, and either ruin the moment or take things to a new level

she brings her mouth closer to your ear-

"...do you need mommy to take care of you?"

you're awestruck.

yes.

that's exactly what you need.

you manage to nod emphatically, while squeaking and moving to fully hug her

she reciprocates, bringing her waist to yours and rocking you back and forth

"Can you use your words, baby? Tell me what you want."

"M... mommy... please... take good care of me... I... I need it... I need you, Mommy... wanna be your perfect little baby girl..."

she gives you the sweetest gentlest kiss on the lips

"I would love to."

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gangstagandalf · 1 year

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Don’t give me the anti venom, thanks. I’m perfectly contempt with this snake bite. 🐍

Come! Join me in the thirst trap!!!

(All characters aged up and well into adulthood)

#sebastian sallow #sebastian x mc #ominis x sebastian #okay but drawing this made me feel things #ominis x sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #thirst trap #slytherin #slytherclaw #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts houses #late night doodles #enjoy #bon appetit

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misc-obeyme · 2 months

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First of all, I’m pretty sure I’d give both my legs to hear Barbatos call me his sacrificial lamb. Like can you imagine him saying it to you just before he goes down on you?

Second, who is this taste tester?? My top guesses are Diavolo, Little D No 2, and Solomon. I would’ve said Luke but let’s be real, Barb loves him too much to make him a test subject. He’d have Luke be a taste tester for something he knows is delicious.

And lastly… “I jest.” I just know that if I spent any time with this man, I would end up talking exactly like him. I’d be saying that instead of “just kidding” to one of the bros and they’d just be like you’re spending too much time with Barbatos again. And I’d say no you’re wrong I’m never spending enough time with Barbatos 😡

#oh nothing just Barb thirsting as usual #I don’t even remember what this chat is from #I just found the screenshot in my camera roll lol #eta: I looked it up & it's from the UR card Believer :)#late night nonsense posting #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me barbatos #om barbatos #misc naughty times #misc rambles

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sallowsswan · 11 days

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Any of them could call me their little whore or slut and I would GLADLY take it as the biggest compliment.

#slytherin boys #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #late night thirst post #nothing to see here lmao

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marimayscarlett · 3 months

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Hiiii! Since you also appreciate Richard's fabulous hands, I wanted to drop you a small gift. 🙌

An ode to the hands so massive, beefy, masculine and strong but also extraordinarily delicate, elegant, refined and feminine that Richard has. 👌The duality of this man!

Let us pray. 🙏

Hoooooo boy. Ok, alright. I opened and closed this ask for about 15 times already, most of the time looking like this:

I love the fact that you can clearly see that those are the hands of a man and yet they have a feminine allure to them. They're strong looking and massive, like you said kind of beefy and don't get me started on his fingers. They're thick and sturdy (just a wonderful thickness and strength for various activities...like pressing keys on a keyboard for his DJ Daddy Kruspe performance, what did you think 🤨) and yet look so graceful and elegant when they're wandering over the neck of his guitar or play with his rings...

[gif sources: x, x]

In conclusion: thank you Näd for assassinating me with this lovely ask 🤍 I will now lay down to think about things. For a while.

#lord almighty #screaming crying barking. the usual #rammstein #richard kruspe #rzk #ask #that playing with his rings. that should be m- *gunshots*#thirst posting late at night what a classic

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astrum-aetherium · 10 months

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being invited on a nightly drive in the pouring rain by henry winter, with the obvious implication of something more — ending up struggling to catch breath and retain your sanity as you ride him in the driver’s seat in some remote place far off the road, straddling his lap and having his large, veined hands encase you tenderly and guide you down his length with additional support. lots of panting, breathiness, sweating — in combination with the icy downpour outside, the car windows fog up, and the scene has been set. he’s impossibly deep, and you whine for him to take over, but he merely slows you down and requests you to continue taking it without complaint, though at a calmer pace. you do — it’s wicked.

#henry winter x reader #henry winter smut #henry winter thirst #god i really need this #late night indulgent thoughts #may ms tartt forgive me but it’s sort of her fault for writing such a hot character oops #henry winter imagine

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kookieswan · 2 years

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hiii!! can I request jungkook and reader trying out cockwarming and jk absolutely loving it and now has to do it every night to stay close to y/n? or something like that lol

Not me trying to figure out what positions would work best for this lmao. Warning for nsfw /18+ content ahead!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s become habit at this point. If there’s enough time for it, Jungkook has you sitting pretty on his cock. It doesn’t matter when it is, if it’s possible then it’s probably happening; you can’t complain.

Most of the time it’s later at night after you’ve both arrived home from work, tired and ready to relax. It’s not long before both of you are stripped down on the couch, Jungkook maneuvering you to lay on your side in front of him, pussy spread around his half hard dick. It’s not really about fucking, not most of the time.

“Comfy baby?” Surprisingly, you are. Feeling him inside you, being so close to one another had become one of your favorite things. It’s intimate, not quite like sex but close enough. You nod whitely to him, eating it up as his strong arms wrap around you snuggly, your naked back pressing against his bare front.

“Good, wanna be close to you.” And he is, skin to skin, practically wrapped up in each other. It’s probably not possible for you to melt any further into him. What is possible though is for you to drift off, warm and safe in his arms.

“Sleep well baby…”

#late night thoughts #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook thrist #bts x you #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts smut #bts thirst

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queenlucythevaliant · 1 month

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Northern Lights

I heard a voice that cried, “Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!”

Who knows what to call the lonely exhilaration of gazing out into a bright Northern sky? Who can name it?

Jill could.

It was the same feeling that came to her at the teetering edge of a cliff at the end of the world. The same feeling as when she said her goodbyes to Puddleglum and Scrubb before they freed the prince. It was the same feeling that engulfed her now, sitting in the professor’s library with a volume of poetry before her.

The wild northern wastes were well named: utterly wild, perfectly desolate, and terribly Northern.

It was lonely there and often cold, but the sky was an endless whorl of gales and gray clouds. The stones were indigo under the pale winter sunlight, and at sunset they glowed a soft gold, as though lit from within. The gorges and moors lay before her, and Jill loved them for their vastness and their distance. Little grew in that country, but that which did was full of vigor. The grass was short and coarse. Every tree was victorious.

On a still, deep breathing winter night, Jill lay on her back beneath a covering sky. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it until her tears began to blind her. Yet even then, she still couldn’t look away.

She felt bigger here in the wastes, like the landscape. Stronger, wider. The further she walked, the more she felt herself stretch out. One of these days, maybe, she would catch hold of herself at the edge and tug, and Jill Pole would open up clear as the Northern sky.

And through the misty air passed the mournful cry of sunward sailing cranes.

The thing that surprised Jill most about the battle with the serpent was this: there wasn’t any yelling. Always, it seemed, whenever she read stories about people fighting with swords, the combatants would let loose some guttural yell before their blows fell. They would scream and writhe in pain as they died. They would shout instructions to their fellows, “Look out!” or “Hit him there!” But the whole affair with the serpent passed with very little noise.

The poison-green coil constricted around the prince; he raised his arms and got clear, struck the serpent hard, and then Scrubb and Puddleglum dispatched the creature with heavy, hacking blows. The monster died writhing, but not screaming. And then it was over.

The thing that surprised Jill most about the moments before battle was, of course, the noise. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She couldn’t stop listening to her own breathing. Every footstep rang out like a gong, and any words exchanged rang with a kind of finality that made them sound louder than anything.

“You are of high courage,” Rilian told her when it was over.

Yet the thing in Jill’s chest just then didn’t feel like courage. It was a deep breath, a plunge, and a release. It was loud and quiet all at once, till she was standing, blinking in the night air as snowballs whizzed round her, and maybe that was something like courage after all.

And now, there was a stirring in her chest as she reread the words on the page. Sing no more / O ye bards of the North / Of Vikings and of Jarls! / Of the days of the Eld / preserve the freedom only / nor the deeds of blood!

She thought of grief. Of freedom.

The lonely ache in her belly grew stronger. She felt herself uplifted into the huge regions of sky that were just beyond those cliffs, weightless as the breath beneath her buoyed her up, further, further…

When she saw Caspian up close, Jill thought that he looked like the sort of person who was meant to live in a castle. A silly thought, perhaps, since she knew he was a king– only she wasn’t thinking of Cair Paravel. No, Jill was picturing the ruins of an old British castle she’d visited once on holiday. She still remembered how the stonework had loomed over her, all towering arches and crumbling walls. That was where Caspian seemed to belong. He had an air of ancient tragedy about him.

When Rilian disappeared, all things had wept but one. The serpent coiled beneath the earth and flicked its forked tongue, spewing poison.

Now, the king half rose to bless his son. He whispered a few words as he caressed Rilian’s cheek, words meant only for those beloved ears. Jill saw Caspian’s lips move and wondered what a man like that could possibly say, when time ran so short.

They laid him in his ship, with horse and harness, as on a funeral pyre. Odin placed a ring upon his finger, and whispered in his ear.

Jill furtively took Myths of the Northmen and held it up to the professor with a question in her eyes. She was still shy around him and Miss Plummer, though she wished she wasn’t.

“Would you like to take that with you?”

“...Please.”

It takes a certain kind of person to be exhilarated by the heights. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.

They walked to the train station with an autumn wind blowing hard, and though Jill couldn’t fathom why, she turned and saw Lucy grinning, fierce and joyful– grinning and reaching a hand out towards her friend.

Jill reached back and grabbed it. “What will you do, once we’re back in Narnia?” she asked.

The wind blew harder. The feeling of anticipation grew and grew, until it felt so big that she couldn’t dream of containing it. And there was Lucy, holding Jill’s hand and laughing like it was easy.

Preserve the freedom only, not the deeds of blood!

The second time Jill went to Narnia, she found herself not at its edge, but at its end.

The thing about the Norse apocalypse is: it feels believable. It doesn’t reach beyond earth’s horizon to pull down hope beyond hope. It’s only the kind of courage that hopeless humans have: you are going to die, so you might as well die bravely.

They found the last king of Narnia bound to a tree. His eyes were faintly red from crying, and his wrists and ankles red from the coarseness of his fetters.

In the Norse myths, Loki broke free of his fetters at the end of the world. He escaped to the helm of a ship made from the fingernails of the dead.

The last king of Narnia fell forward onto the ground when Eustace cut his bonds. Jill crouched down beside him and watched as he rubbed feeling back into his legs. He wasn’t so much older than her, she thought. Jill was sixteen years old; the last king of Narnia could not be older than twenty-two.

In the myths, the gods were ancient, hewn from the bodies of giants old as the earth.

Jill put out a hand and helped the last king of Narnia to his feet. Not for the last time, she shivered. Something deep inside her (deeper than her chest, than her heart, than the marrow of her bones, deep as her soul, deeper) was singing an elegy and she didn’t know why, or how, or where it had come from. The king clutching her hand, who could have been her older brother, would have no heir.

Yet when he asked, “Will you come with me?” Jill could only smile.

“Of course,” she said. “It’s you we’ve come to help.”

And the voice forever cried, "Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!"

“This really is Narnia at last,” murmured Jill. The springtime wood had little in common with the wintry lands she had traveled the last time she was here– but it awakened the same feelings of Northernness in her chest.

Their party may as well have been the only people in the world, for how isolated their little wooden path seemed. Yet it wasn’t lonely, really, cocooned in all that green with the wind in the leaves and the primroses nodding and blue of the sky peeking through above.

Jewel told stories about what ordinary life was like when there was peace here. As he spoke, Jill could almost hear the trees' voices speaking out of the living past, whispering, stay, stay. She was caught up to a great height, looking down across a rich, lovely plain full of woods and waters and cornfields, which spread away and away till it got thin and misty from distance.

“Oh Jewel–” Jill said with a dreamy sigh, “wouldn’t it be lovely if Narnia just went on and on– like what you say it has been?”

She needn’t be a queen, as Susan and Lucy had been, but Jill would’ve liked to stay. She would've liked it all to stay, if it could. She might have been a woodmaid in a place like this: with the turn of the seasons, the swaying trees, swords into plowshares. Oh, if only she could stay!

Ahead, the last king of Narnia was softly singing a marching song. Jill tilted her head back and let warm shafts of sun caress her face.

I saw the pallid corpse of the dead sun borne through the Northern sky.

“So,” said the last king of Narnia, “Narnia is no more.”

He tried to send them back. Jill shook her head. It was very loud and very quiet. “No, no, no, we won’t. I don’t care what you say. We’re going to stick by you whatever happens, aren’t we Eustace?”

They couldn’t go back anyway. Neither would they flee, not south across the mountains nor North into the great wide wastes. No, they would stay. They slept in a holly grove on the edge of ruin, waiting for the bonfires to light.

Jill slept fitfully, but in between she dreamed. She was high up in the air, buffeted by clouds and pierced by shafts of silver sunlight.

They all died, in the myths. Jill knew that. It seemed beautiful and brave when she read it in her book, tucked away safe in the Professor’s library. It was terrifying now– and yet it was beautiful and brave still.

The dogs came bounding up, every one of them, running up to the king and his men with their tails wagging. One of them leapt at Jill and licked her face, tongue roughly lapping up the sweat and tears that had dried on her cheeks.

“Show us how to help, show us how, how, how!” the dogs were barking, almost ebullient in their enthusiasm. Jill bit back a sob. How lovely, she thought. How terribly beautiful. How dreadfully brave.

So perish the old Gods!

The white rock gleamed like a moon in the darkness when Jill finally reached it. She ran back to it alone, her hands shaking, while her friends stayed forward with their gleaming swords and Jewel’s indigo horn.

The while rock gleamed like the moon. Jill’s first shot flew wide and landed in the soft grass. But she had another arrow on her string the next instant. It was speed that mattered, not aim. Speed, and turning aside when she cried, so as not to drip tears on her bowstring.

The white rock gleamed. In the myths, a wolf devoured the moon. Peter’s wolf, slain many thousand years ago in this world, opened his jaw wide and darkness fell over everything.

Her next arrow found its mark. After that, she lost track. She pulled, and she prayed that her hands kept still another minute.

The unique thing–maybe the appealing thing–about the Norse myths, was that they told men to serve gods who were admittedly fighting with their backs to the wall and would certainly be defeated in the end. Jill let loose another arrow, felt the white rock at her back, and she knew that the clawing fear–beauty–bravery deep in her gut was the same feeling that she felt on the heights. The same feeling, but a different face. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.

“I feel in my bones,” said Poggin, “that we shall all, one by one, pass through that dark door before morning. I can think of a hundred deaths that I would rather have died.”

“It is indeed a grim door,” said Tirian. “It is more like a mouth.”

“Oh, can’t we do anything to stop it,” said Jill. Better to be dashed to the ground than it was to be devoured.

“Nay, fair friend,” said Jewel. “It may be for us the door to Aslan’s country and we sup at his table tonight.”

A hand tangled itself in her hair and started to pull. Jill braced herself hard, for a moment, until her strength gave out. She was standing on the edge of a high, Northern cliff. She took another step, and fell.

Perhaps when the moment comes, our bite will prove better than our howls. If not, we shall have to confess that two millennia of Christianity have not yet brought us to the level of the Stoics and Vikings. For the worst (according to the flesh) that a Christian need face is to die in Christ and rise in Christ; some were content to die, and not to rise, with Father Odin.

The world inside the stable was beautiful. It made Jill’s chest ache in all the loveliest ways.

Build it again, O ye bards, fairer than before!

#okayyyy so #i've been down the tolkien/lewis/norse mythology rabbit hole lately #it's a lot #but i've been picking at this piece in my head for a while now #which is more a rhapsody than anything else #but another for my narnia/classic lit sequence of pieces #the quotes are mostly pulled from Longfellow's Tegners Drapa translation #which Jack discusses in Surprised by Joy as one of the works that inspired feelings of joy and 'Northernness' in his boyhood #there's also a Weight of Glory quote in there #(paraphrased)#and one from the intro to Joy Gresham's book on the 10 Commandments that Jack wrote #(that's that last passage in italics)#i'm not really sure i was trying to make a point with this so much as just. explore that feeling of northernness #bc really northernness is two things #it's joy and exhileration brought on by beauty #and it's that beautiful hopeless courage when faced with unwinnable battles #and i love how intertwined those two things are for lewis #and let's be honest for me too #so that's what this is #hope it holds together okay #narnia #chapter one #night under narnia #dying of thirst #pontifications and creations #leah stories

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bakubunny · 6 months

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look i just want to be nanami’s icky bbg for one day. track me down n use me. just once.

#sorry i’ll shut up #late night shitposting #shitpost #i’d also take kiri but we already know that #tw dark content #yandere #yandere nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami thirst #yandere jjk #bunny talks

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absolute-flaming-trash · 1 year

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Mahito is the type to play with your sanity.

The type that makes you wonder if you really left your closet door slightly ajar. Your first instinct wouldn't be to check inside, it would be to fully close it - completely ignorant to what, or really who, is now inside.

You were sure you closed the kitchen window a minute ago... or were you?

Little things that you wouldn't question for more than a minute, and he'd just keep ramping it up until the coincidences become too much. Until the little mistakes "you" make happen too often.

It doesn't matter where you stay or where you go. The game will only stop when he wants it to, and not a minute before.

It's fun to watch you break down and question every menial thing you do.

Are you losing your mind? He sure hopes so.

It will be interesting to see what finally does it. What he ends up doing that really makes your mind shatter.

Because picking up the pieces will be just as fun.

#riri writes #Mahito #Mahito x Reader #tw yandere #tw stalking #tw mindbreak #late nights with riri #thirsts #I guess

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