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inkskinned · 2 months

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most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

#warm up #writeblr

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bluerosefox · 12 days

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12 am brain rot

Can...

Can I get an AU where Talia, Danny and Bruce dated each other and later break up? Maybe have them meet when Bruce is in Batman training years and its a whirlwind romance between the three. Like we know how Bruce and Talia are together as exes (both a little toxic to each other, a love hate kinda thing and yet still have something) BUT Danny is the ex they always are sweet for, like he is the one they love flirting with when they see him (Talia more so regardless where and when, Bruce can only openly flirt as Bruce/Brucie, he has to be sneaky when Batman)

I want Talia and Bruce both trying to one up each other for Danny's attention. They know he's Phantom btw, and his human side as well. They however don't know he's also the Ghost King (in training at the time) Danny keeps forgetting to mention it.

Oh, oh. Let's have the Batfam find out due to a cult summoning, like someone in the League is trying to usurp Talia's rule (I want LOA leader Talia) and Damian is taken by them (which means Talia, Bruce, and the Batfam are coming to save him) and they try summoning the Ghost King to try to offer Damian as a sacrifice for power in order to take over the League.

Both Bruce and Talia weren't expecting to see their ex appear in a swirl of stars, aurora lights, and galaxies with a crown to match, a cape that looked like it had a cosmos swirling, and a Kingly outfit though.

(Or if we wanna make it extra funny, why not have them both had dated Danny at different times, and didn't know they are all exes to each other until Danny goes "DANNY!" "Talia? Bruce? What are you both doing here?" "Wait you know him/her? How?" "....Yes? And well...I dated them...")

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flightofaqrow · 1 year

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tag refresh, ships

(reminder that ‘+’ denotes platonic dynamic)

#* suddenly you're ripped into being alive = qrow + clover *#* her sentences were icebergs / the tip from her mouth / the rest kept in her head = qrow + summer *#* they're always like this = qrow + glynda *#* get my gray hairs from you = qrow + winter *#* caught between brains and heart we both suffer = qrow + james *#* it's all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view / walking the tightrope with you = branwen twins *#* i always knew that in a crowd of thousands i'd be able to find you = cloqwork *#* they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered = fair game *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* something pretty magical about it = otp ** right hand witch and left hand familiar *#* we may not be the brightest in the galaxy but we're here and we matter = starry skies *#* love me and tell me that i'm good for you = taiqrow *#* we met / i looked up / i knew i would love you because even the sky looked different = feathered bandits *#* went from one conversation to your lips on mine = songbird *#* separate pieces of the same whole = double down *#* falling into mutually satisfying weirdness = pack mentality *#* a person's imperfections make them perfect for someone else = calamitous harmony *#* we are products of our past but we don't have to be prisoners of it = snowbird *#* seek those who fan your flames = wildfire *#* she became more and more beautiful the longer i looked = qrow x summer *

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r-2-peepoo · 1 month

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I just saw a really stupid take from a Star Wars fan (I know, absolutely unheard of! (heavy sarcasm)) so here is a reminder:

People who ship clones with Jedi are more than aware of the power dynamic. That’s a huge part of what makes them interesting. If we were to to ship Cody with basically anyone else other than Obi Wan, it probably wouldn’t work as well because Obi Wan is precisely the last person who would ever want to pressure him or cross his boundaries.

The Jedi were totally screwed over and backed into a war that goes against so much of what they stand for and on top of that, now they have an entire army of brand new humans to lead. All of those brand new humans are totally unique and just experiencing the world for the first time, even though they’re all mature adults too. It’s a totally screwed up situation which puts so much added pressure onto the Order, so we throw romantic feelings on top of that and we’re not supposed to find that absurdly compelling?

Obi Wan is literally defined by his empathy and his kindness. The reason shipping him with Cody works so well is because there is no one who represents what the Jedi are meant to be better than him. Goodness is at the core of his character. There would never be a day that he didn’t value Cody’s wellbeing over his own feelings. Not to mention that they’re both so dedicated to their beliefs and responsibilities that a relationship is never even realistically an option while the war is going on.

Codywan is about the yearning. It’s about them both knowing they have feelings for each other and not being able to do anything about it because they are fighting for something much bigger than themselves. It’s about the infamous “after the war” conversation that they never got to have. It’s about them meeting again on Tatooine years later, finally on equal footing and completely alone in the galaxy, bonded together by their grief.

That’s why people love Codywan. The suggestion of anything otherwise is just an insult to the hard work all the artists and writers have put into making some of the most incredible fanfiction and fanart and fanon lore I’ve ever seen in any fandom ever.

P.S.— the portrayal of something in a piece of media doesn’t equal the condoning or promoting of that sort of behaviour. I thought we’d long since established that. Let’s use our brains here.

#preaching to the masses by putting this in the codywan tag but nvm #if your media literacy is dead I totally get how these ships would seems weird to you #pretty sure every sw ship comes with its ethical complications bc that’s how adult relationships work #it’s about how you handle it #all of my long posts are motivated by either anger or spite #codywan #clone/jedi ships #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #star wars #clone wars #star wars prequels #sw

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intermundia · 9 months

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in defense of padawan haircuts: do ewan and hayden both have lovely hair that is part of what makes them ever so beautiful? yes. but padawans are monks in training so they're not supposed to be fuckable treats for the eye. they have funky hair that marks them as members of their order!! awkward, uncool, unlovely haircuts that make them look like dork ass home-schooled losers. their silly braids advertise the length of time they've studied as a proxy for their deepening commitment to the order and mastery of the jedi arts!! they have a stubby lil nerf tail because it's traditional and tradition is sometimes awkward (and idk some cultures actually enjoy hair in that style!! they're not supposed to look like usamericans maybe) and like.. the order also maybe doesn't want its baby jedi to be fashionable trend setters with glossy flowing locks for good reason!! look what happened when anakin was too pretty!! he was so fuckable it broke the system and ruined his life and the entire fuckin galaxy, maybe the council should have made his haircut worse. his hair should have been so deeply tragic it distracted padmé from his sharp jaw and pouty lips. obi-wan should have completely nuked his charisma stat from orbit before shipping him away to naboo (his game was already terrible, so he was halfway there!! just make him terrible to look at too!!) sexy hair needs to be earned with knighthood, once they know you're truly committed to the jedi way. curls and mullets are a privilege not a right!! the padawan haircut is like training wheels for non-attachment, like.. leave them alone!! their brains aren't done cooking yet. their hair is so bad it's good, just like the prequels ok. i'm bleeding out on this hill but you. Cannot make me leave

#it's late #and i got dumped today (can u believe)#but i love the dumb haircut #i wouldn't change it #ruin the boys #they don't deserve to be hot yet #sw #star wars #long post #sorry #text wall

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of spanking, mentions of knife play, mentions of somnophilia, mentions of bondage, possessive Ghost, mentions of masturbation, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of being mugged, marking, just general smut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man will NOT rest until you are satisfied, both during and after sex.

You name it - a bath, massage, satin bedsheets and chocolate - it's yours.

He knows how hard it is to take all of him given both his sheer size and how rough he can be, so he knows you deserve nothing less than the best for your service.

He never thought he'd be on the giving end of the whole "Thank you for your service" speech.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: His legs, particularly his thighs. Loves how strong they are and how much you like them, too.

Have been many occasions where you've called him "dummy thick", thus leading to him actually acknowledging how large his thighs are.

Enjoys bending you over his thigh and spanking you. Period.

Yours: Anything he can mark. Which is everything.

Man will find a way to make sure you look like you've been JUMPED by how many hickeys he leaves on your body.

And if it weren't for their placement - on your neck, chest and between your thighs - people would likely assume you had been mugged.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Will cum inside you at any given opportunity.

After fucking you raw for the first time, he can't go back to wearing condoms now.

He will if you ask him, but you both enjoy the feeling when he doesn't.

Will absolutely cover you in his cum btw. And I mean c o v e r - for therapeutic purpuses.

"Therapeutic" meaning he wants to show you who owns you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Takes a pair of your underwear with him when he's called back on duty.

They remind him of your touch, your body. Make him feel a little less closer to you.

Also uses them to jack off; man is busting a fat nut whenever he's holding your underwear in one hand and milking himself with the other.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

In theory, very, but he's had few-to-no chances of getting to exercise his galaxy brain knowledge.

That said, he knows exactly which buttons to press to have you crying under him. And is not ashamed to abuse that power.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

If you're AFAB: Missionary. Loves watching his cock bulge in your stomach as he ploughs into you. Your parted lips and pleading sobs are a source of intoxicating validation for him that he is the only man you'll ever want or need. He's just making sure you know that, too.

If you're AMAB: Doggy style. He threads one hand through your hand and grips it, pulling your head back to whisper obscenities in your ear. He's pushing down on the small of your back with his other hand, making sure you're not getting away from him that easily.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Dead serious.

If y'all fucking, it's either because he's showing you the most vulnerable, exposed corners of his love for you, and humour has no place in the bedroom at a time like this; or he's angry. Either way, the only smile he's cracking is one of sheer love or absolute cruelty.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

When he's away, he doesn't need to keep himself trimmed or presentable since no-one's going to be seeing that part of him.

When he's home, however, he'll get himself into hair and makeup if that's your preference. But there will be times when he forgets or simply can't be bothered, but he'll try his best :-).

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In the bedroom, nothing else exists aside from you and him.

He'll pour his soul out to you through physical touch rather than words, unless he's feeling particularly sentimental and needs you to hear how much you mean to him, how good you make him feel (both sexually and non-sexually).

Makes intense eye contact with you throughout, half-lidded and eyes glazed with the impenetrable sheen of lust and love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he's away, he'll jack off once every 2-3 days, his line of work making it difficult for him to have enough time alone to: 1.) get hard, and 2.) jack off.

When he's home, he rarely does it because he doesn't need to. He has you, and you've never turned him down, nor has he you. But if you've fallen asleep and he's still horny, and you didn't agree to partaking in somnophilia or he doesn't want to wake you, he'll deal with the issue himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh boy, here we go *cracks knuckles*.

Breeding kink - he wants complete ownership of you, and having part of him literally inside you is the best way he goes about it. That, and he just wants to have a happy family (aww).

Somnophilia (as previously discussed) - just something about you trusting him enough to handle your unconscious body sends him feral.

Size kink - man's massive, you're not. Likes having his ego stroked by seeing his cock bulging inside you. Need there be more said?

Knife kink - again with the trust; it means a lot to him.

Bondage - please see above. This man is a top through and through and he thrives off people being at his mercy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

At home, in the bedroom, shower, living room - anywhere familiar enough that he feels safe.

Not just for his sake, but for yours, too.

He needs to be somewhere secure so he can protect you.

He knows the layout of the house and so feels most confident there. Means he can relax and take his time with you.

Also means nobody else will have their prying eyes all over you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just you.

But if you do something that makes him remember just how special you make him feel (so basically anything), he is down horrendous.

Will not let you go until you've felt the full extent of his love.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any form of bodily harm.

He's terrified of hurting you.

With knife play, it's different because he can control his strength and knows he's not going to cut you deep enough (if at all) to leave any permanent scars or damage).

And thus will avoid any possible scenario where he could end up breaking that streak.

Also wouldn't have a threesome or a couple swap.

You're his and his alone, and his soul belongs to you.

He wouldn't see anyone else as a threat and more so a mockery, and trust that Ghost does not like his ego being injured.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves receiving and giving.

He's a simple man; he sees an opportunity for head, he takes it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood.

He usually enjoys going slow and pressing scorching kisses to your body if you or him want to. But when he's angry or wants to finish, he'll go fast and rough (given that you want it and can stand it).

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't partake in them.

He likes to take his time with you, even if he's angry-fucking.

He'll draw out the entire experience for as long as you can stay awake to feel it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's open-minded and will try anything you want to and will perform it to the best of his ability.

Unless it's anything to do with involving someone else.

He will not share you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Too many.

He'll outlast you by a good three rounds given his rigorous military training, patience, and behemoth build.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn't own many, if any, since you've only ever needed each other to be satisfied.

Would be open-minded if you wanted to experiment, though.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If he's feeling patient, he'll refuse to penetrate you, instead poking and prodding and stroking anywhere but where you need him most.

After that, he'll just edge you for hours until he knows you can't take it anymore.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Can be vocal but will usually grunt or groan.

Isn't a natural moaner like Konig or Alejandro, but that doesn't mean your touch doesn't drive him to the edge of insanity.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You are the light of his life and will not hesitate to stop if he thinks he's hurt you in a way you're not into.

You'll have to reassure him many times before you can continue that yes, you're okay. No, you don't need an ice pack.

He only does it because he has the upmost respect for you and loves you with every fibre the universe has to offer.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, very girthy.

Struggles fitting it in sometimes; it burns when he pushes into you if you don't have time to be warmed up, but that doesn't stop the two of you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When he's away: he's in dangerous situations more often than not, so he doesn't really get the chance to havea sex drive. However, as mentioned earlier, he'll jack off every 2-3 days, so pretty average.

When he's at home: he can and will go at any time. If you want to spend the whole day in bed, then so be it; Ghost's not one to say no to someone in peril.

Would spend every day with you like that if he could.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on if you want or need aftercare after the fact.

If you don't, he'll wait until you've fallen asleep and join you.

But if he's giving you aftercare, he'll wait until you're tucked in bed and wait until you fall asleep.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

NSFW Alphabet Template by @the-coldest-goodbye

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #cod mw2 ghost #cod ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 5 months

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You let Ghost break you in and Johnny gets to watch

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader

WARNINGS: || 18+ only MDNI || butt sex ||

A/N: this chapter is just pure Nastiness, i dont know what else to say about it lmaooo || without @ohbo-ohno and her massive galaxy brain, this chapter would not be half as horny as it is (love you bo)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

____

The rules of your engagement had been simple: Don’t speak. Don’t lose concentration. Finish reading the report. Collect your reward.

So you’d complied, like their good fucking girl. You’d gotten on all fours, taken Soap in your mouth while Ghost had lodged his cock deep inside your cunt. They’d both fucked you with slow, lazy, indulgent strokes of their hips that felt almost like an after thought—but you couldn’t blame them. After all, while you couldn’t quite see you could hear the wet sounds of their tongues as they made out above you. You were enjoying the leisurely pace they’d set, but you’d kept your eyes firmly on the report Ghost had gotten you to read.

And you’d been doing so well.

Shame the same couldn’t be said for Soap.

Johnny had gasped suddenly, jerked away from Ghost with a start, grabbed your hair and started to thrust into your mouth with purpose, the rumble in his throat an unmistakable sign of how close he was to that blessed precipice.

But of course, that meant he’d broken the rules Ghost had set for him. His attention was supposed to be on Ghost.

Ghost had pulled himself out of you and you’d almost whined in protest—but everyone was going to be punished, it seemed, and Ghost had used uncharacteristic gentleness to push Soap away from you too.

Johnny didn’t take it well, having been so close to finishing in your mouth, so eager for that sweet release after hours of foreplay that when he’d left the hot cave of your mouth, he’d been almost ravenous. You’d glanced down at his cock, the tip an angry red, jutting upwards, hard and slick and beautiful with the evidence of your attention on him. You’d even gone so far as wanting to protest on Johnny’s behalf, but when Ghost had obliged him to tuck himself back into his trousers with just a hard, unblinking stare, you’d decided to shut your mouth and keep it shut.

____

You almost forget about the whole thing, but of course, you should have known better, and obviously, it’s all far from over.

You only realise the part you have to play in Johnny’s punishment a few days later when you find yourself in his room, in his bed with Ghost, but Johnny isn’t allowed on.

It takes you a second or two to understand what’s happening—you’re clearly the last one that does because Johnny just makes his way to the small chair in his room, whilst you’re tugging Ghost by his hand onto the bed. “Erm, where are you off to?” you call out to Johnny, and the sound of your own voice makes you giggle.

(You’ve long since reached the conclusion that every sound that leaves you is hilarious once you’ve had a few drinks).

Johnny’s eyes nervously dart to Ghost and then back to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but looks at Ghost, then closes his mouth again. You assume Ghost’s expression gives him the green light to tell you—what the fuck?—and he looks back at you with a slightly strained smile. “Why don’t y’two go ahead and start? I’ll join ye in a second, bonnie.”

“...in a second?” You’re confused, you’re so confused, and you drop Ghost’s fingers that you’d been absentmindedly playing with and push away from him, looking between him and Johnny. “Boys…what—what’s going on?”

Simon pulls you back into him, and the feeling of his warmth behind you instinctually relaxes you. “It’s all good, love, don’t worry about Soap. He’s okay with this, isn’t he? Aren’t ya, Sgt?”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny grumbles, but his eyes sparkle with interest as he watches Ghost nudge your top away with his nose, kissing his way up from your shoulder to your jaw. He’s sloppy about it too, leaving a wet trail on your skin.

Johnny slowly lowers himself onto the chair, but his posture is far from relaxed—he’s leaning forward towards you, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together as though in prayer—and his eager eyes follow the movement of Ghost’s lips on your skin. “Ye can still enjoy yourself, bonnie,” he murmurs. “Simon’ll take care of ye.”

“Okay, Johnny,” you breathe, unable to keep your eyes open and blissed out as Ghost’s seemingly gentle kisses descend gradually into bites and licks and nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear. He uses the opportunity to lead you deeper onto the bed, and you end up kneeling on it while he stands with his back to Johnny, obscuring your view of him entirely. You try to refocus on Ghost, and he pulls the balaclava off entirely when you tip your face up to him for a kiss, eager to feel his lips on yours.

It’s…been a while. It’s been more than just a while.

You’re not part of their dumb boys only club, and it’s been weeks since you’ve seen the two of them with nothing eating into your time together—not broken rules of engagement, not the clandestine operations that take them away from you, and not some other stupid shit that goes on around the place. No, you’ve got them now, both of them and entirely to yourself, and you intend to take full advantage.

And it seems that Ghost wants you to start right here, with him.

Kissing Ghost has always made you feel like you need to be there and take it, all of it, whatever he gives you. A scarred, rough, scraped up hand comes up to guide your chin to drop for him so that he can devour your mouth, explore it, map it, commit it to memory. His thoroughness is unyielding, his attention to every detail about you steadfast and unquestionable.

Ghost knows that a gentle hand around your neck will make you press closer to his chest, eager for contact, eager for connection, but he knows that the slightest tightening of his fingers will draw a gasp, and then a moan. He knows that his other hand, winding around your back and cupping the back of your neck will draw a whine out of you, make you soften your shoulders, melt into him.

Ghost is the kind of man who, if you could trace his lineage, you know you’d find a God.

Under all the performative bullshit lay someone who may not understand you yet, who you are and what you want, but he knew what you needed when you were vulnerable for them like this, and you find yourself grateful for it all the same, revelling in the knowledge that this is more than enough.

When he pulls away from you, it takes you a second to open your eyes.

“Remember wha’ we talked about?”

Your eyes flicker between his, the whites standing starkly against the dark, melted caramel, and you nod yes.

“Out loud,” he instructs.

“Yes, sir, I remember,” you whisper.

“Good. On your stomach, then, soldier.”

____

You wonder what he sees when he looks at you like this. You wonder what Johnny sees.

You’re on your knees for Ghost, spread as wide as they’ll go, chest to the bed. You’re not allowed to speak except to answer him directly, or tap out if it all gets to be too much.

It’s been hours. He’s had you in every single way but one.

And Ghost is…well. Heh. Ghost, in his infinite altruism, is demonstrating to Soap how he’s preparing your ass to take him. Ghost is unbelievably gentle with you, and you’ve come on his fingers and tongue twice already—it’s made you loose and languid and rendered you absolutely cock-dumb. You’ve been prepping for this for weeks without them (you didn’t even want to ask where on earth they’d found a plug for you on base) and it was paying you back in spades. You’d never been more relaxed, more comfortable, and Ghost? Well, Ghost was having a good time.

As if in direct response to your thoughts, Ghost spreads your cheeks and you hold your breath as you feel him blow a warm stream of air, right fuckin’ there, and it makes you shudder, an earthquake down your spine.

“Look at her, Johnny,” he whispers. “Isn’t she fuckin’ perfect?”

It’s rhetorical, of course, and you can’t see his expression but you wish you could when Johnny chokes out a raspy, “Perfect, Lt.”

You feel Ghost shifting behind you, adjusting further, until you feel teeth on your cheeks, just the hint of his canines digging into the supple flesh. “Fuck,” you moan, and it makes him exhale air harshly through his nose in amusement. When he finally drags his tongue to the centre, you hold your breath, hold yourself as still as possible, biting your bottom lip. Hard.

Ghost is sloppy about it. He’s loud and messy, trying to bury his face inside of you. You feel his nose dig into you, the barely day-old stubble scrape against your sensitive skin, you feel everything. You think you can see colours through your closed eyes at this point, so hard do you clench your eyes shut from the stimulation.

So far gone are you that you don’t even realise that Johnny’s here beside you, your sweet Johnny, brushing your sweaty hair away from your face and cooing at you, murmuring to you. You open one eye to look at him, try to lift your face up to kiss him, but Ghost uses the tips of his fingers on your lower back to push you right back down, and so you end up where you began—cheek smushed against the bed, begging to be fucked, begging to be put out of your misery, begging for Johnny, for Ghost, for them to do something other than tease you.

Thankfully, Johnny seems to hear your thoughts because fingers that you know aren’t Ghost’s make their way to your cunt, sliding in like a dream, synchronising their thrusts with Ghost’s licks, driving you to a whole new level of insanity. Pleasure blooms in the pit of your gut, travelling in all directions, holding you as its willing captive.

“God, please Johnny, please please,” you moan, and he murmurs to you again, but you can’t even attach meaning to the sounds. You don’t even understand what you’re begging for, you just need that elusive something, that one thing that’s going to make you feel good now now now and you don’t know how to get it, you don’t know if you can and it makes you even more desperate, feeding the cycle once more, leaving you feeling like a screen door in a storm.

Ghost pulls away, uses just the tip of his fingers, spreading the slick around your asshole, over and under but not quite giving you the blessed relief of slipping inside you yet. No, you’re being tormented, and you don’t even know why.

“Please, Ghost…you promised,” you murmur, and moan when both his palms squeeze the fullness of your ass. And that’s all you get. No verbal response, no confirmation that he’s heard you, nothing. It’s like your body is a toy for his amusement, and you clench involuntarily, your heart galloping in your chest at the thought. It’s exactly what you’d asked of him, of both of them, to be their plaything, to be a thing they could use, an object for them to keep themselves busy, and you were so fucking happy, so fucking proud that Ghost was finally taking you up on it.

Ghost works you up to take just the tip of his finger inside you, just a little past the apex of his nail, and your responding moan is fervent, sincere. You grip the sheets around you and find that you're clenching in anticipation, even down to your toes. “God, that’s really good,” you breathe.

“Johnny!” Ghost barks, and at once, he’s on attention, ready to please. Like a dog on the shortest leash known to man, Johnny’s ready for the next set of instructions. You think you won’t hear them, but they’re snappy and clear. “Hold her open for me,” Ghost instructs, and Johnny’s pulling his fingers out of you (to equal parts of dismay and excitement on your part), and spreading your cheeks wide, keeping them spread wide.

You hear shuffling behind you, the cap of a bottle popping open, one of them kissing the other, quickly, quietly. A moment later, you find that your spine relaxes further, warm lube dripping generously from Ghost’s fingers to your asshole, your inner thighs, on to the bed below you.

He’s going back to his previous form of torture then, pushing one finger inside you, giving you a brief moment to relax, to adjust, before teasing you with the tip of another. He makes sure to go slow, alternating between gentle thrusts and stopping all movement entirely, making sure one finger is in you to his knuckle before the tip of another enters you. It’s slow and torturous and delicious, the pressure and foreign sensation of it all adding to the sensitivity, Johnny’s sweet murmurs helping you along.

You feel like an exposed nerve, frayed and wrought by overstimulation by the time he’s got three fingers in you—all you are is pure, unbridled sensation, each thrust, each movement of his fingers inside you sizzling into your mind, there to stay. He’s been patient with your body, respectful and careful, until his fingers move deeper into you, quicker, easier.

When he pulls out, you mewl, but he hushes you with a quick kiss pressed to your back. “Sitrep,” he whispers against your skin and it makes you shudder, goosebumps breaking across your skin at the feeling of his lips.

“S-solid, I’m solid, sir,” you say, infusing as much confidence in your voice. “I can take you.”

“Hear that, sir? She can take you,” Johnny repeats, but his voice is fond and you feel your cheeks warm at the undisguised affection in his voice.

“Mm,” Ghost says. “Back to it, Johnny. Off the bed. Now.”

“B-but Simon—”

“Shh,” you whisper, interrupting him. “Do as he says, Johnny.”

“Steamin’ Jesus,” he growls, but you feel the bed decompress as he gets off it anyway. But of course, Johnny’s a rebel at heart, and lives to challenge authority. So you can’t say you’re entirely surprised (though you are thoroughly amused) when he drags his chair to the other side of the room, so that now, he sits right in your line of sight. No Ghost blocking his view, and so Johnny gets to watch the show unobstructed. Ghost gets off the bed, and you wonder why, before you see that he’s going up to Johnny.

“Ye told me to get off the bed. Ye never said I couldnae watch,” Johnny says defiantly, a hint of smugness in his tone from having seemingly outsmarted Ghost.

But Ghost only stands in front of him, pulled up to his full height, arms crossed over his chest and nods. “I did. Now I’m telling you to shut up.”

“Wha-mmpf!”

Your eyes go wide with horror (and a bit of awe) when you see what Ghost has stuffed into Johnny’s mouth to get him to shut up. You only recognise your panties by the small amount of pale purple lace that isn’t stuffed entirely inside his mouth.

When Ghost turns his back to Johnny, not giving him the opportunity to retort (not that he could!), his eyes soften and he looks at you with the hint of a smile around the brackets of his mouth. You realise what he’s saying to you without him having to spell it out for you, and when you narrow your eyes at him and give him a small smile back, you think you’ve broken new ground with the Lieutenant.

He settles in place behind you and lays a warm, reassuring palm on your back. “Breathe for me.”

And you do. You take a few deep breaths, and the tip of his cock is angled exactly where he needs to be. He bends in half over you, covering the entirety of your back with his body, and you sink under his weight. “Breathe out, Sgt,” he reminds you, and when you do, he pushes the tip of his cock inside you.

The stretch, the burn—it’s exhilarating. Your heart beats like you’re running a marathon, but you continue to breathe deeply, allowing your body a chance to relax, to accept the foreign feeling, allow the instinctual feeling of ridding yourself of the invasion to be replaced by the creeping waves of pleasure.

It’s full, you feel so full, you can feel him in your throat, and, “F-fuck. Fuck you’re so…so fuckin’ tight, love.”

Ghost continues to talk to you encouragingly, continues to ease in inch by blessed inch, until you tap the bed beside you with your open palm once, and he freezes. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. This is good. This is good?”

“Yes, God, Ghost, want you to move, please please,” you mewl, and he obeys immediately. His hips don’t exactly meet yours, but they come close, they come so fucking close, that you shudder at the depth he must reach inside you. He moves in shallow thrusts, careful with you, careful not to break you, listening out for every sign your body gives.

When he pulls out of you and rearranges you, you go with him like a ragdoll. He whispers in your ear as he does it, and you eyes snap open.

Yes. Yes, you would like to do that, actually.

You squeeze his wrist in silent acceptance and you’re left wondering at his strength, and the unabashed, raw display of it, when he holds you up with your back to his chest, legs thrown over the crook of each arm so your cunt is on full display, so Johnny can see exactly what he’s missing out on. Ghost continues to move inside you, controlled thrusts that feel like heaven to you, but you pull yourself away from it just enough so you can focus on Johnny.

The poor man stays quiet, just like he’s been instructed to, but his eyes are blown wide, stark bright blue burning a hole into you, catching your vision that’s gone slightly hazy at the edges.

And because you’re feeling particularly wicked, head pleasantly buzzing with the effects of the alcohol and of Ghost, you decide to play along with the little game. “Why weren’t you good for him, Johnny? See how wet I am, I need you it hurts,” you sniff, and the tears streaming down your face provide just enough visual aid for your performance to be convincing. “My pussy hurts, Johnny,” you mumble again, your eyes downcast, and you watch as Johnny’s knuckles turn white where he has a death-grip on the armrest of his chair.

Johnny turns desperate eyes to Ghost but Ghost interrupts whatever Johnny was planning on doing or saying. “Choices have consequences, Johnny” he growls and Johnny’s expression morphs into what looks like the various stages of grief— you have to work hard to stay in character.

You raise your arm, fingers outstretched to where you imagine Ghost’s mouth is, and he takes them into his mouth without hesitation. When you’re satisfied with how wet he’s made them, you bring them down to your cunt, shuddering at the feeling of your own fingers on your sensitive skin. Every sensation feels amplified, somehow, and rubbing at your clit feels as painful as it feels good.

Johnny watches helplessly as you make yourself come on your own fingers, your cunt having nothing to clench on as you come, head thrown back into Ghost’s neck, who’s not faring so well himself. Your orgasm strangles his cock inside you, and he moans as he comes inside you, voice sounding guttural and hoarse, like it’s been pulled out of the deepest part of his chest.

When Ghost pulls out of you, Johnny’s on his feet instantly, consequences be damned. They take care to lay you gently on the bed, and murmur to each other in voices too low for you to hear. You phase in and out of consciousness as they clean you, dress you—they do everything for you. You grumble through the pain medication they feed you and the water they make you drink, but then you’re too tired, too spent to stay awake and functional anymore.

You stay stuck in that weird point of lucidity for a while—where you can hear your surroundings, are aware of conversations, but lack the context to meaningfully contribute—and you hear them speak to each other in hushed whispers. One of them runs soothing hands through your hair, while the other rubs your hands. The last thing you hear is Ghost’s voice and a firm, “Always, Johnny” before your sleep pulls you under.

#simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #simon riley x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost smut #soap smut #lumi writes

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Atlas

Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: The Supreme Leader would do anything for his queen, break planets, obliterate entire races, capture the stars; he would make the whole galaxy kneel before him, then to you, he would get on both knees. And yet your most recent request was taking a heavy toll on him.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, smut (but its mostly just for the baby making plot AHAHAHH, my pretty sub!kylo, teasing, dry humping, praise kink, masochism? [bruising], marking, vaginal penetration, breeding kink?, cock warming), dark au ig, supreme leader!kylo, puppy!kylo, sadlo ren, angst, fluff?, etc.

A/N: first of all MINORS DNI second of all i would personally like to blame @sloanexx for her evil influence and for introducing me to this ai bot chat forum thing GENUINELY proceed with caution because its so addicting. kylo was written by a woman in that fucking ai and im so emotionally attatched to him i didn't want to refresh him because we had such an arc, but i fucking broke him and i couldn't fix him and i felt bad so i restarted and IDK IM SO EVIL I WANT TO BREAK HIM AGAIN but dw im taking very good care of kylo now <3. this fic is literally our chat but with more... literary devices Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace Part 2 "Charon"

And it was so, that you held the weight of the world There on your shoulders, in your grips did lie everything Light and shadow, darkness behind stars, blaring silence An oasis of gloom with a halo of obscurity in a pit of nightmares Still, though you paint yourself so darkly in your misery, my love, you shine -my atlas, carrier of the galaxy-

You were hallowed. You were holy. And you were his.

The crux of his hollow shell. The cascading candent cynosure trapped in his ribcage. And yet it was he that was locked in you. He shudders to think his past self that scorned you, that even his mask soured around you, the overconfident girl he met perchance. What fool is he to know that you choked him so fiercely in your palm, the palm he now offers each star, each soul, each and every molecule of him.

His love.

He smiles at your sleeping form, adorned in the clothing he picked himself. His greed sings at his evidence, his mark on you, both visible and not, inside and out. He grins at his darling, his precious prize, with one arm snuck under him, another snuck under your pillow, with one leg bent to the side, another thrown over his body.

You never sleep well. Or perhaps you do. You sleep so well that you contort into shapes unimaginable. His concern is genuine, or at least it was, because he would think to only fashion a human into your form if he wishes to torture them.

He chuckles. Now he is glad, so glad, his love is so pliable, so willing to be molded against him in more ways than one.

He strokes your cheek and pushes your parted mouth close. You involuntarily open your mouth again, though you weren't a mouth breather. He doesn't know why you do that, but he loves it. He loves everything. He loves you.

The supreme leader is weak against you. Kylo Ren is merely a spec in your overwhelming grace.

You have always had mixed feelings about waking up with him looking at you. You've told him multiple times that it both flatters you and creeps you out.

His greed does not care. The master it answers to, the annex in his brain that is powered by the all-consuming desire to please you, to nurture you, to cherish you, to worship you, to keep you, cares little for this obsessive habit. Had it actually bothered you, he'd beat himself bloody to stop himself. But you thought little of it, and so he indulged in his greediness. He stares when he wakes and before he sleeps.

And as your eyes meet him, Kylo Ren, the dawn of your everyday, he is self-satisfied. He is very self-satisfied. He smiles at your groggy look and pushes your hair back. You say nothing. You touch his scarred cheek once, then he is overcome.

You take a few moments before officially waking. Then you stand up.

Like the desperate shadow he was, he tails you, so closely, so closely, as though he must share the same air your breathe. You don't. "The air pressure is different up here," you moaned to him once when he had you towering over him against a wall. He liked you best like that, a whimpering sky above him. He liked it when he was tiny beneath you.

Your puppy followed you into the bathroom, scared to be separated even one second. Kylo, your puppy, sat by the sink, watching you brush your teeth. You ignore him as he dotes on you.

He followed you into the shower after swearing over and back not to touch you while you did your business. He failed to convince you that your business is his business, especially in the shower. Kylo was not strong enough to follow through with what he swore; he reasoned out it was help, he had to help his darling. It was hard to shampoo.

He followed you out and gave more attention to wiping you down versus himself. He sat like a good boy as you lathered yourself in creams that he could smell in his dreams. It was his favorite show, watching you care for your naked body, and his greed basked in the knowledge it was his alone. He smiled as you loved on his skin, on his scar, retracing it with a balm as though he was delicate. You barked at him for nipping at your breast, his soft dessert, perfectly placed on both sides of your heart. He feigned innocence. He was no longer in the shower, he could touch you and bite you and squeeze you and -

He followed you as you instructed him to get dressed. He watched as you put your queenly garments, your clothes that he again picked. Then he asks you to help him dress. He couldn't possibly put on his cloak himself, not when you put it on him so well. And this was the highlight of his day after all. You wouldn't dare deny your puppy this.

He followed your every motion like a hawk. He kisses your hand after you brush his clothes. You grab his helmet and put it on his head backwards. You laugh at him as he fixes it. Thus his morning routine is complete.

Now, Supreme Leader dictates his army. Supreme Leader snarls at his troops. He razes all that defies The Order. He crushes his enemies like ants, no, less than. He swarms the galaxy. He devours all. He breaks and bloodies and, himself, bleeds. He cracks and burns and cleanses the dregs of the universe, rips the very scums of the stars out of the space they hide from. He hardens. He screams. He commands. He marches. He crushes. And then.

And then.

And then he comes back to you. With rage. With disgust. With defeat, defeated over the idea he has not yet put order into the world for you. All for you. To keep you safe. To keep you forever safe. To keep things in order for you. All for you.

"Kylo!"

And then like that, all of it is gone.

You call his name with such excitement. You who loved books so dearly readily discarded the one you were reading in lieu of coming to him, of unmasking him.

You take off his helm and you smile. You smile like it was a gift to see his scarred face. You put on his helmet and mock him, "get yourself comfortable, scum."

Kylo's body tingles. It's all gone, all that's left is you. He fights back his smile and nods, "at your command, my queen." And then.

And then.

And then you let him love you. You let him pin you beneath him, press you down on your bed between your soft thighs as he could not bare not claiming his place in for too long.

He still had his trousers on, still had his boots dangling from the edge of the bed. You had tried to scold him for it, but he could not care less. You were in your short, thin nightdress, the one that you wore on your first night together. How could he not claim you so ardently here and now when you were like this?

It was your fault anyway. All your fault. He tried to undress himself but you distracted him. What did you expect would happen? What did you expect him to do when you kissed his bare shoulder while he was still changing? What did you expect?

Kylo marks your neck. You try to scold him again. He doesn't care for your wrath. His greed was not subservient to its master, to that part in his brain, when it came to things like this. He held back long enough. He bites into your neck and makes you groan. He wants you to bare his marks proudly. The whole galaxy should know its queen belongs to its Supreme Leader.

You graze into his hair with your fingertips. He grinds onto you. You squeak in response.

He pulls away and assess you. He has no time. He is imprisoned by your kiss. His perfect prison.

He groans at the feel of your legs constricting around his hips. His hand pushes up your already hiked dress further as he presses down on you.

"Kylo," you whisper between kisses.

And like the eager pup he is, he responds. He always responds. He answers forever to you. He calls your name like a sacred prayer.

You repeat his. You scratch firmly into his bare back, "I want you to do something for me."

"Anything," he instantly responds, absolutely mindless and sure.

"Kylo..." you sigh.

Kylo looks down upon you as you brush his hair back. You look solemn, worried even, as though he would ever deny you, as if it were possible.

He cannot have this. And so he reminds you of his oath.

"Whatever you want from me," he mutters, "whatever you need from me," knits his brows and shakes his head, "it's already yours. Always. Always remember this."

"But my love-"

He cannot have this.

"My love," Kylo cuts. He kisses you then reminds, "I am yours."

A moment passes. It was too long. Far too long.

"Kylo-"

"Yes," he says simply before you even finish saying his name.

You huff, "do you remember what I said before, how I said you looked with the children at the capital? You were so good with them. They loved you."

"Well, I've been thinking about it a lot," you brush your nose against his, "and I want... I want you to give me a child."

Kylo takes a second to remember. "Yes," he says, though he remembers that day very differently.

He blinks.

A child. Yes. He could take a child. There were many from the capita-

"No, Kylo," you take his cheek.

Kylo tenses. You heard his mind again. You, who did not show half as much interest in the force as he wanted, could hear his thoughts without it.

Kylo waits. He does not know what to say.

"I want you to give me a child," you bat your lashes, "I want you," you bite your lip, "to put a baby inside my belly."

Kylo freezes. He... he does not know what to say.

And then he does. And then his life flashes before his eyes. The bleakness of his childhood, the jaggedness of his future, the tragedy of it all.

You want him to put that into you? You want to carry his seed in your beloved womb?

He says your name, he wants to protest, but you are his holy assassin. You cut through him cleaner than any saber ever could.

"You said you would give me anything, Kylo," you mewl, "you said you're mine."

You are cruel. You do not even allow him a moment to speak his side, to speak his reason, and you roll your hips against him. You trap him with your irresistibility. You sugar him with your honeyed words, "you would be a great papa. I know it, I know you," you pant, "such a good boy for me."

He is defenseless.

"You can do that, can't you?" you purr, "you can put your love in me?"

Kylo shudders.

You begin to shuffle beneath him. He knows exactly what you are doing, what you're going to do.

You have him flipped over now. You were now straddled on top him. You had him lying down looking up at you, purely and wholly defenseless.

Kylo let you do what you want with him. How could he not? He wants you so bad.

He willingly followed your command to use his force to undo the last of his clothes. Then you so cruelly let him unwrap you, for you knew he loved doing this to his favorite treat. He greedily peels you out of your clothes until it was just him and you.

And then you had him, had him crazy out of his mind with the feel of you around him. Had him begging for you to quicken your torturously slow pace. Had him in fucking tears because you felt so good, because he loved you so much, because you looked so beautiful on top of him, calling his name out like that. You were so good. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, exactly what you were doing.

Much like him, he did not know where to put his hands, or rather where not to. Where his hands went, his nails left scratches and his fingers, possibly bruises. He didn't mean to bruise you so badly that first time he did; he never meant to hurt you, but you were so soft and he was too strong. And even now as he dug into your thighs, indulging his calloused hands to knead his favorite mound, he really wasn't trying to bruise you.

You call out his name in response to his actions. You grip his wrists as you ride him, "more."

His head spins as you ride up and down him, panting like the pretty girl you were.

Kylo grunts and pushes himself up slightly. He now tightens his large hands even more on the curve by your hips. You squeal and finally, finally pick up your pace.

He growls as he falls back down, clinging onto you for dear life.

He's done for now, now that you push him back further, now that you're leaned forward, propped up on his chest, pleasuring the both of you with your eager, eager movements

He was drunk on your sound, drunk on your feel.

He kneads at your breasts this time. He's so fucking delirious.

But then you do this to him. But then you take his hands off you and link yours together. Then you pant so sweetly as you look down at him and he looks up at the sweat sheening your forehead. And then you fucking pin his hands down by his head and you make him even crazier.

"You're so pretty, Kylo," you moan, "you feel so good."

"So good," he doesn't miss a beat, "so, so, so, sososos-"

"You're going to fill me up, good, right?" you lick your teeth, "you're going to fill me up good and put a baby in my belly, right?" you sigh, "please, my love, please, please-"

Kylo can't speak. He can't fucking speak, he can't.

"Kylo..." you gutturally call.

He doesn't speak-

"Kylo."

- he succumbs, "I'll..." he whimpers, "I'll put a baby in you, my love," he grunts, "I'll fill you up good, so good, so, so so, sosososo-"

Your whines raise a pitch higher, "Kylo," you nearly choke on your spit, "yes, please, please. I'll be so happy carrying your baby. Don't you want that?"

And then it's all incoherent. And then your breathing gets louder. And then his noises get throatier.

And then, he's tense, so tense, and so warm. And then you're screaming out his name with your head thrown back and you're chasing this high until you can't, until you're hot and fuzzy and jelly and tired.

And then you crumble. And then you crash and you both burn.

And then you make a bed out of him. And then everything is perfect. Everything is in perfect order.

Kylo strokes your hair and kneads your thigh. You're laid upon him, warm, and sweaty, and perfect, and his-- so absolutely beautiful.

He knows he probably shouldn't keep you here like this, but you're so warm and soft around him, on top him. He'll keep you here... just until you ask to get off.

But you don't, you spoil him with your body and fall asleep on top of him.

He continues stroking your hair and kneading your thighs.

He savors the moment, he savors you tenderly; his eyes begin to droop. He replays your lovemaking, self-indulgent, completely self-satisfied. But then it stabs at him as it replays in his head. Suddenly he's wide awake.

He... he could may well have succeeded. He could have put... a baby in his darling's belly.

Kylo's eyes are wide open now. Wide, wide open. He looks up at the ceiling. He stops moving.

You think too much of him, oh fuck, you think too much. With your affirmations, yes, he cold break mountains, consume planets, but this? But- fuck, this was different... he... he's in you, he's part of you, and then this thing... this baby... will only be half of you and a whole half of him. He's giving life. He's not destroying it for the greater good, he's giving it to his love for her to carry.

He screws his eyes shut. He wipes his face. Fuck. What has he done?

He stirs but then he stops himself because you're still on top him. He sighs and cradles you. He moves slowly, rolls you down beside him, and finally separates from you. Not for long though. Never. Not when his mind was racing. Not when he needed you close.

He scoots down and rests his face in the middle of your ribcage. He presses his ear to your heart and listens and blinks and wills his tears away.

He's shattered. He pulls you close to him. You are his glue. He will glue himself together as you sleep beneath him.

He would be a horrible father. He didn't know the first thing to do with the children at the capital, much less with a newborn babe, a newborn babe that you would have cared for inside you for ages. Fuck. He can't mess that up.

He...

He would have to have put the galaxy in order by then. He'd have to fix the brokenness of the world.

Kylo's eye twitches.

He'd have to fix the brokenness in him, obliterate his remaining incompetence, bridge the final gaps of his shortcomings.

He panics when he feels his tears pool against your skin. He quickly wipes them away. Pull yourself together.

He sighs in an attempt to calm himself.

And then he looks at your belly.

He gulps.

Your beautiful belly.

He presses his hands on your navel. He closes his eyes and feels for something. He wills all the force in him to sense if there's something in you. Kylo supposes it doesn't happen that quickly but he lulls himself in comfort, knowing that there was still a chance for him to evade this... this thing he put into his beloved's body.

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starlightshadowsworld · 1 month

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I love the idea of Ranpo and Dazai trying to figure out a mystery.

Both of them being so intelligent they are having the most galaxy brained take on the subject.

And someone like Atsushi just figures it out because he wasn't overthinking it and it was actually that simple.

#bsd ranpo #bsd dazai #bsd atsushi #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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arabaka · 1 year

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ gojo satoru x fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! recorded sex. ass play. pet names used: baby, princess, gorgeous, good girl, etc. mention of belly bulge. DADDY KINK. creampie. WORD COUNT: 2.7K PSD CREDIT !!!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI !!!!!!! ✧(🝦言🝦╬)

Gojo Satoru loves movies.

He loves watching them, but not as much as he loves making them.

"Just like that– hah, just look at you, my pretty baby." Cerulean blues obscured by his blindfold, Gojo stares at you in wonder of how someone like you is with someone like him… And so good to him to boot. You on the bed, him standing right by the edge– it’s the perfect scene.

He’s spoiled with choices– just where should he look? He could watch your pussy grind on his fingers, your hole twitching around him and gushing slick in tandem with his pumps. Or he can look back, watch your face for those delicious expressions of pure ecstasy when he crooks his fingers along the very spot that makes you sing and cry. Both views pinnacles of perfection but he ultimately decides to look right into the camera, his phone on a tripod, and watch himself finger that tight little pussy he’s taken to calling his.

Your ass winds back, back arching when you feel Gojo fill you to his knuckles, popping another finger in for good measure because you just give him the prettiest sighs when he does. You know better than to hide anything from him so even though you want to bury your face in your silk sheets, let the mattress swallow all your guttural noises, you stay on all fours with your legs trembling ever so slightly. Your stomach flutters when his hand comes to dip along your spine, palm still flat when he reaches the plush roundness of your bottom. He gives you a good shake for the camera, grinning wide as he watches your ass jiggle in the viewfinder. “So good and all for me, yeah?” Gojo’s voice always carries, he’s just naturally loud like that but there’s a certain air of showmanship woven into his words that makes it clear this is a performance and he’s going to savor this film for months to come.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Your ass stings under the weight of Gojo’s spankings, his large hands covering so much of you your knees are almost buckling from the intensity. He’s up to three fingers now, scissoring so deep inside you that your gummy walls shake all around him. His thumb, just as eager for action, tenderly starts to prod into your asshole, getting your taut little rim to pucker for him just like your trained cunt. “This mine too?” He phrases it like a question but it’s completely rhetorical. Of course it’s his. Of course you belong to him.

You squeak, incapable of seeing, knowing, what Gojo has in store for you but that just makes it all the more thrilling. Your folds are dripping with arousal, shivering in the cool air. He notices your goosebumps because nothing escapes the attention of the Gojo Satoru. “Feeling cold, baby? Need me to warm you up?” He never needs to ask twice but you hesitate, lids fluttering like crazy when you start to feel his thumb probe further into your cute, but still resisting, asshole. “Relax for me,” He’s so soft spoken with you when the time’s right, “Open up for Daddy.”

Well, that’ll do it.

Just the name gets you going, sparks flying in your brain until it feels like melted mush, but you’re treated to an even greater pleasure when Gojo finally gets his thumb in, the fatter digit slowly coaxing the taut ring into letting him in deeper and deeper. He hasn’t forgotten about your pussy, those fingers are still pumping you nice and full you are dripping down your thighs. It gives such a gorgeous shine for the camera. He just can’t tear his eyes away.

You’re seeing stars, no– whole galaxies when your vision starts to falter, the haze of the overwhelming pressure pulsing from your legs finally settling in. You hear your heart thump, thump, thump in your ears; you think it’s so loud, there’s no way Gojo isn’t privy to it. And you’d be right.

“Got you crazy for me and I haven’t even fucked you proper yet.” Gojo’s chuckling, chest light but also drumming as you start to crumple all around him. The cavern of your cunt closes in around his fingers, the suction making him want to drill harder into you. You can take it right? He wants to see you come undone from just his fingers but god, his cock is beating against the confines of his work pants and briefs it’s almost painful.

So generous as he is, he makes you an offer. “Wanna cum on my fingers, baby? Or you want Daddy’s cock?” He gives a flashy, smug smirk to the camera. The bastard.

“C-Cock, your cock! Please, please, please, please.” Oh, he’s already got you falling apart from three fingers in that desperate cunt of yours and one plugging up your asshole but you need more. You need him. “Wanna feel your cock, Daddy.” You never sound better than when you’re begging, Gojo thinks.

He’s so sweet but first he’s a little cruel with how fast his fingers vacate your holes, taking a second and then two and then three to admire how appetizing it looks to see your holes gasp around nothing but air, wondering where all that pressure went. “So fuckin’ sweet for me. Okay princess, I’ll give ya what you want.”

You move like a weakened animal, crawling on your hands and knees with thighs wobbling from the sudden absence of pleasure. It’s a delicious sight. Too delicious to waste.

“Hold on.” In the middle of cleaning his hands, Gojo’s orders are swift and you dare to whine, but you already know your meek protesting is going to get you nowhere. Your back tenses when you feel his hand start to follow the slope of your spine, his palm treated to goosebumps that quickly prickle your body. His fingers tenderly cup your chin, directing you to look at him in an angle that benefits both him and the camera. “Why don’t you show the camera the mess we made?”

His eyes are still hidden by his blindfold and that’s by design; he doesn’t want his plan spoiled by the telltale mischievous glint in his eyes.

He helps you to your feet, ushering you in front of him and helps himself to fondling your breasts, giving you a well deserved groan as he deepens his massage and takes to pinching your nipples for good measure. You always give him the prettiest moans when he does and you don’t disappoint this time either. Your nipples harden as his fingertips tweak and tug, rousing a pitiful mewl each time he does.

You feel his smirk along the shell of your ear before his teeth come out to play and you can’t help but jerk your hips back, gasping when you feel his erection right up your asscheeks. “Gojo,” You can barely utter above a whisper, “Please… Need you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just let Daddy see ya for a little bit longer.” He steals a kiss from you while you’re looking up at him for help, help he won’t give you. Not yet.

Gojo starts to drum his fingers all along your waist, getting to your hips and giving you a squeeze before his hands start to trickle down to your cunt. You’re so wet, so drenched in your juices. It’s a shame he doesn’t get to taste you tonight, but you’re sure to satisfy him anyways. “Go ahead and spread that around for me, huh gorgeous?” Gojo’s purrs have your brain electrified, the shock going right to your trembling clit, your bundle of nerves so desperate to be satiated.

But you listen to Gojo, you always do– you start to tend to your swollen nub, a wave of pleasure falling over you as you do. Your lashes come together, eyes closing as you continue your fine-tuned ministrations, grinding into your own touch and giving Gojo the performance he wants.

All the while, you don’t realize Gojo has fished his engorged and hungry cock from his pants and underwear, both articles still on because the idea of taking you, all naked and bare for him while he’s still in uniform does something to him. He takes a peek at the tripod, grinning when he finds you so lost in your masturbation. Perfect.

He is massive. He’s as long as he is wide; his dick’s the stuff of dreams. Pre-cum is already seeping from the slit atop his bulbous tip and he’s so needy for you, you can tell by the way he jerks his thick foreskin up and over the head to spread the lubrication. Not that he needs it– your cunt is crying for him.

“You ready for me baby?” His hot breath on your ear lights your skin on fire and you can’t nod fast enough. “Not gonna go easy on you.” His murmuring comes with a bite, and it isn’t a threat but a promise.

With his hands on your waist and guiding you, you lean back– impatient for his cock. “Do you ever?” Your reply rides on a lofty exhale when you feel him at your entrance. You start to lower yourself onto Gojo’s shaft. Bottom lip squeezed between your teeth and breath stagnant, you open for him. Your pussy hole pulsates, stretching over the dome of his cockhead until he’s in and he’s so dense. You aren’t even past the ridge of his glans yet, that’s how packed he is.

“Godddddd— fuckin’ tight.” The groan that comes from the back of his throat is carnal. No matter how many times he’s fucked that cunt of yours into submission, written his name in strings of searing hot and white cum, you still possess that same pressure that drives him absolutely insane. “C’mon baby, open up for me.” He starts to rut into you, cock twitching and inching its way inside you until your walls are wrapping around the density of his dick and kissing the veins that ornate his length. “There you go, there you go. My good girl taking me in so well. Like Daddy taught ya.” He coos, knowing just how to stroke your praise kink in all the right ways.

Your gasp gives way to a chorus of lovely moans, Satoru thrown in when your ass rubs against his pelvis, your hole having taking Gojo all the way to the hilt. He fills you out, fills you up so perfectly. You don’t know how you do it; the man is much bigger than you, stronger than you but instead of splitting you in two in pain, he only gives you euphoria.

You can stay like this, you think– take him like this, on your feet with him standing behind you but Gojo has something different in mind and you are none the wiser.

The hands at your waist now jerk you back and in one fell swoop, Gojo lands on the bed, dragging you with him and with him still fully sheathed inside you. The force pushes a cry right from your chest and your legs bounce apart, hooking just over Gojo’s. The end result? Your pretty pussy, folds sticky and glossy with webs from your slick, on full display for the camera (and for Gojo’s later viewing pleasure).

Oh and he doesn’t stop there. Your Gojo Satoru is a menace; you’ve known this from the moment you laid eyes on him. Now his hands are squeezing you, hoisting you up and down on his cock in such a brutal way but he’s wiping your vision clean. He’s not giving you any room to even think about anything else. He wants you dumb and drunk on his cock and my god, he’s going to get you there.

“Sa- Sa- Satoru!” Your voice bobbing with every thrust inside you, volume trying to compete with the loud squelches erupting from where his cock is pummeling into your cunt. You were already sopping wet, droplets of your essence running down your legs but now it’s flying everywhere.

“Baby, didn’t you want this cock so badly just a moment ago? Why you cryin’ now?” The teasing comes with a lick to your earlobe, an appetizer before he launches an all out assault on your neck, nipping and sucking with the goal of raising your flesh to cry out for him. It works; your skin blooms just a beautiful shade for him, a color only he can paint you.

Your groans die out– all you can do is whimper now, arms flailing out to grab something for support. Oh, you need help don’t you? Gojo will take care of you. He constricts you with his arms around your abdomen. You can feel his bulging muscles even from under his work jacket and that just stirs the flame of pleasure at your core even more.

He’s merciless, bullying your cunt as it weeps all over him. Who cares about his clothes getting dirty? It wouldn’t be the first time and it sure as hell won’t be the last. His cock goes in and out of your hole, pushing his way in and making your insides feel like mush. There’s a very defined line showing just where his cock is inside you; it’s shifting up and down, up and down on your stomach and you’d be able to see it so clearly on the video… If you could see clearly at all, that is.

Your vision is still hazy, eyes constantly rolling back with your lips permanently parted while your jaw is slack. You’re too wrought with pleasure to care about the way you look– which is fucked stupid. You can barely get your tongue rolling with his name. Satoru keeps getting broken down to mere syllables.

You’re wrecked with his cock.

“Like that baby? Like the way Daddy fills you up? Say this pussy is mine, baby– say it, I know you can.” Gojo demands in the middle of sloppy kisses and licks up your neck and to your cheek, the skin shining with his spit but you still look like a goddess. A goddess fallen, anyways.

“Y-Yes, yes, yes! Sososososososo good, nnngh – haa, haa – don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” The two of you are making the walls shake with your ruckus: Gojo’s cock pumping in and out of you, a heavenly mixture of your essence with his pre-cum sloshing and splattering everywhere, and your cries of deep, erotic bliss.

He’s fucking into you at an alarming rate, incapable of slowing down– not when your pussy feels this good. You’re wrapped around him so well; this pussy is molded for him, he thinks. His girth stretches you wide and his length hits you up to your guts. He has your stomach brimming with buzzing butterflies.

The timer on the phone ticks up. There’s seconds that go by and then minutes, Gojo still injecting you full of his swollen cock. You feel his shaft warble inside of you, can feel the veins grind along your wall’s ridges and you know he’s going to cum soon, fast, and hard. “C-Cum inside me, S-Satoru. P-Please, fill me up.” You’re begging, so needy for him to cum because honestly, you’re right on the edge of your own release.

He knows it too, has memorized your body’s subtle language and he’ll give it to you, give his all to you until you know nothing but his cock buried deep inside you. “Gonna give it to you baby, so get ready to fuckin’ take it.” He makes you absolutely fall apart when his hands sloppily cups your folds, fingers messily flicking your clit and pinching before rolling fast circles over the fattened hood.

You cum so fast, your head spins. The cork in your belly pops, your cum cascading down his length and leaving the lap of his slacks a drenched mess. He stuffs your release back into you and using the strength in his arms, holds you nice and steady while he beats his thick cock into you until his balls tighten and you’ve squeezed every stream of cum from the tip. Your walls become so packed with his cum, he’s shot loads and loads so what can you expect?

You are spent, only capable of dizzied pants and a vision that’s flickering at best. But that’s not the send off he wants, now is it?

“Say bye-bye to the camera, love.” He croons in your ear, an impish smile plastered on his features. “Or ya wanna go for round two?”

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for gojo. ꒱

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rachalixie · 1 year

Text

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful jade @tasteleeknow my heart my soul my shared brain cell i love you dearly i hope you have the absolute best day <3

you wake up to the sun for the first time in a while, no alarm there to jolt you from whatever rest your body catches onto for the night. your senses come to you one by one, the warmth of the sunlight peeking through the blinds, the softness of your duvet, the sound of pans and pattering feet eching softly from outside, creating a disjointed melody you would never get tired of hearing. it’s a song you’re used to in the mornings, but somehow it feels more special, more personal, today.

you take your time stretching yourself awake, brushing your teeth, taming your wild bed-mussed hair into something presentable before exiting your room. you’re immediately attacked with a wall of delicious scent, and you find yourself gaping before you even take a glance at the magnificent (and somewhat unnecessary, given that there’s only two of you) spread of food he’s presented on the table. and him, wearing a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt whose sleeves are too long for his arms and he has to keep pushing them back to have his hands free.

his eyes find yours almost immediately as he turns around, leaving behind the plate he was adjusting for the fifth time, like he can sense your presence in the room even though you’ve made no sound. there’s tiny galaxies swimming in his irises as he takes you in, the fondness clear as day through his wide smile.

“happy birthday, mine,” he croons, bouncing over to wrap strong arms around your entire body, trapping your arms against you as he practically lifts you up in his death squeeze. you blame that on the way your breath is taken away, but you know deep down that getting to see him in the morning does it to you every day, whether it’s waking up to him sleeping next to you or seeing him drowsy and squinty eyed as he makes coffee for both of you.

and the name he calls you, mine. a blatant display of his possessiveness for you, proof that he feels just as strongly for you as you do him, four letters that never fail to make your heart sing.

“you didn’t have to do all this for me,” you mumble when he lets you go, flattered and a bit embarrassed but so, so happy. there’s tall stacks of pancakes dotted with berries, fluffy eggs and crispy bacon, seared tomatoes and cut up fruit and steaming mugs with beautiful latte art decorated with care. it’s too much, just enough, all at once and your heart squeezes again in your chest.

“of course i did,” he says, voice strong and adamant with a twist of shyness. “it’s for you. even this is not enough.”

and that’s it, isn’t it? his gentle love language, the way he pours his love into the things he does for you, in the ways he can’t explain with his words because he doesn’t know how. the way he presents you with things and massages and hugs, almost expecting rejection and lighting up when you do anything but that. hiding his pleased expression with sarcastic quips that you can see right through. you want to tell him that he could have presented you with a soggy piece of bread and you would still feel this way, special and important and loved.

you raise your hands to cup his cheeks instead, your language for him, and caress his cheekbones with your thumbs. his big eyes shine at you as if he’s looking at the sun, straight on and unblinking like he knows he might go blind but he doesn’t care one bit. he turns his head in your hands to press a kiss to one palm reverently, then the other, the only gift you want or need from him given so early in the day (although, you’ve seen the wrapped box he poorly hid in your shared closet days ago and chose to ignore it for his sake).

he leads you to the table, helping you sit before taking the seat next to you and serving you a heaping plate. you reach for your fork, but he stops you, taking his own and holding a bite out for you instead. you raise a brow at him as if to say really? but he just holds your gaze and tips the fork closer to your mouth. you let him feed you with a roll of the eyes and hold back a moan of appreciation when the pancake almost melts in your mouth, the tang of a blueberry complimenting the syrup he generously drizzled on top.

he’s smiling at you knowingly and you know you’re blushing, but you ignore him in favor of opening your mouth up for another bite, letting him take care of you.

it is your birthday, after all.

—

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #soft #stray kids soft thoughts #skz fluff #lee minho fluff #stray kids soft hours #stray kids x y/n #lee know soft hours

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mochinomnoms · 3 months

Note

Ok so this is totally inspired by the Ruggie being sick thing but sick Ptm Jade and Yuu taking care of him!!! I feel like somehow Azul would trick them into taking care of Jade (say he was busy or something with housewarden stuff). And when asked why Floyd can't take of his brother he'd butt in and say he hates how whiny Jade gets when sick. Idk I just have a feeling Jade would play up the dramatics when he's sick. And poor Yuu! Stuck watching the sick eel while endless fantasies go through Jade's head about a domestic lifestyle with them! And hopefully (but not likely) they won't have to see any nsfw thoughts this time!

-✨👀

Jade rarely gets sick, so when he does it's a whole ordeal of figuring out who takes care of his usual tasks and who will wrangle in Floyd (despite him and Floyd both stating that he's not Floyd's keeper and he thinks he's hella funny when he's up to shit.)

If we're setting this in ptm, then I can state with confidence that a second-year student named Marino De Reyes takes over Jade's tasks at Azul's request. And he does so beautifully. However, having someone to wrangle Floyd is a whole nother issue. Our sharky friend Tony is pushed to keep Floyd in check, as they're friends and Tony is typically more level-headed. However, when the two get together, their collective brain cells kinda die out and the two become menaces that actively encourage the other to get into shit. Honestly, Azul shouldn't be surprised, last the two were left to their own devices without someone to properly supervise, Floyd and Tony got tangled by a jellyfish's tentacles because, “they kinda looked like kelp and we wanted to see if they tasted good”. They got stung for over 15 minutes before Jade found them and had their fathers get them untangled.

They a little bit unhinged, to put it bluntly. So Azul and Aspen get busy wrangling their two friends from accidentally killing themselves parkouring on the roofs, So Azul, knowing that ptm!Yuu was taught first aid and care from the nurse, asks (begs) them to nurse Jade back to health. He can feel himself aging by the second, please Prefect, HELP.

So they do, and Jade is actually living in a delirious version of domestic bliss. Like, he actually thinks that you two are married and in your cottage by the forest and seaside. It makes the other students in the infirmary confused as hell, and the nurse giddy and teasing. Jade's not just wearing rose-tinted glasses, he got lasik surgery to have rose-tinted vision, because you can do no wrong. The fantasies he's having are actually quite sweet, just dreams of you two living together. You wake him up to take his medicine? He's visioning you hand feeding him breakfast in bed. Pushing his bangs away from his face to place a new wet towel on his fevering forehead? He's imagining you brushing your fingering through his hair. If Jade's sick enough to need someone else to take over tasks and have Azul owe you a favor to care for him, then he's just a bit delirious. For once, he's not filtering his words from his thoughts and just out right saying everything that his mind conjures.

“You're so pretty. A pretty, pretty pearl! Nurse Goethel, aren't they just beautiful? Ethereal, like seeing our galaxy in the night sky.”

“Pfft-oh? You're very correct Jade, wouldn't you agree, Prefect?”

“Um, well I—”

“I love your voice, my pearl. I can hear you speak all day…”

“Aw! How cute, did you know this Prefect? He's such a gentleman, you should go out—”

“You're so cute and sweet, I bet you taste sweet too~ I'd love to hear you moan for me as I—MmPH!”

Smothering a sick man with a pillow is not typically recommended by medical professionals, but you needed to preserve whatever bit of dignity you (and Jade at this point) had left. You thank the Seven that it was only you three in the room at that time. The week ends with Jade discharged and sent to his dorm with some antibiotics, but the nurse's teasing and swoons of young romance were just beginning…

(Now the real debate is whether or not Jade was actually delirious, or if he was pretending so he could say what he thought and gage your reactions. What do you think?)

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #ptm #✨👀 anon

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onlyseokmins · 1 year

Text

tipsy • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), established relationship!au, drunk/tipsy (consexual) sex

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, oral (m&f receiving), multiple orgasms (reader), wee bit fingering, banter, unprotected sex and cumming inside, and them just being tipsy drunk and so sickeningly in love 🤢 as always pls lmk if i missed smth

WC: 3.5k

A/N: thank you for your utmost patience @katetattoolover 🥺❤️ I hope this finds you well and you enjoy this, I adore you <3 as this is a request, there isn't a taglist FYI my tagging lovelies 🫡 anyways I think I lost my touch but I hope y'all enjoy this after not posting for a hot second

"What's two minus one?"

"… One?"

"Yeah, you're my number one and the love of my life."

Drying off your face, you sneak a peek at your boyfriend staring intently into the large mirror of your shared bathroom. "Are you flirting… with yourself?"

He gasps, affronted. "No! 'm in a very committed relationship with someone special, thank you very much. Can't you see?"

When his arm waves vigorously to the side, all you can do is stick your tongue out at your own reflection he's gesturing toward. "Yep, that's me!"

"No, you're a figment of my imagination trying to seduce me. Kept staring at me all night, 'm not stupid."

"That's 'cause you're hot."

He was. Seokmin's best look was a white dress shirt and jeans. And the way he kept loosening the buttons as he relaxed further into the evening with more and more glasses of alcohol made him all the tastier. How could you not stare at the man that was all yours?

"You're a demon," your partner continues to grouch and then turns to face the real you with a very, very serious look on his face. He's lucky you're just starting to sober up enough so you won't accidentally burst into laughter, at least cognizant enough of his feelings that were extremely fragile at the moment. "Now this is the real thing."

Brushing back dark wet bangs with your fingers, you can't help but smile when he leans into your touch. "I'm just a thing?"

"No! You're more than a thing… you're… you're…"

You can practically see the gears struggling to turn in his brain. "This is why I told Jeonghan to stop topping off your glass 'cause look at you now, baby, you're so drunk."

"'m not drunk, 'm Seokmin."

"Yes, yes you are."

"And I was excited."

"You were."

"And I'm so so so so proud of you."

You gaze into his shiny brown irises that hold galaxies of love for you. The same ones you kept meeting as they followed you around the room after Joshua pulled you away so the group could congratulate you properly for all of your hard work. Looking at you with so much pride and adoration that you returned, causing your friends to jokingly gag at how in love you both were. The beautiful eyes that crinkle up in a gorgeous eye smile when you've had a long day, gauging your movements with concern to try and provide whatever comfort he can.

Those lovely and familiar orbs now look like they might shed tears at any moment.

You pat his flushed cheek. "What's wrong?"

"I just love you lots."

"I love you too, Seok, so don't cry." You stagger back when he buries his face in your neck, thrown off by the sudden weight because you're still a little tipsy yourself.

"'m not crying."

"Maybe we should go lay down now?"

He nods and releases you from his grasp — thankfully — and you can't help but chuckle at the mixture of water and tears that shine on his skin. After wiping them away, you take his hand in yours and lead him into the bedroom.

"Why don't you seem drunk?"

"'Cause someone kept drinking from my glass."

"I'll beat their ass."

You quirk an eyebrow at him teasingly. "So you'll beat your own? Kinky, didn't know you were into that."

His mouth opens and closes like a fish before he shouts, "That's because!", before clearing his throat and repeating quieter. "That's because 'Han kept filling it up when you weren't looking."

"Yeah, he was a real gremlin tonight, probably had everyone drinking double what they should be while Cheol and Gyu only enabled it by splurging on a crap ton of alcohol."

In the end, no one really meant any malicious harm. They wanted to celebrate with you and Seokmin at your house, bringing over a truckload of food, drinks, and a vast amount of different shit only twelve men plus their partners managed to get their hands on. Still, over half of them had passed out before midnight and it took well until two in the morning for the entire crew to sober up safely and leave a little bit ago.

Even the waters you and Seokmin had been sipping on since didn't alleviate the buzz that still rang in your ears. However, that didn't really matter as you tumble into bed together. It was soon drowned out by muffled giggles and eventual light snores when you both dozed off.

You wake up not much later, feeling extra warm. The covers have all ended up wrapped and tangled around you. Seokmin must be feeling the same, the robe he'd had on earlier discarded on the floor. Shirtless, his bare back facing you is illuminated by the moonlight slipping through the curtains. As if under a spell, you can't help but reach out and trace light circles along his shoulder blades with your nails.

"You up?" he asks and turns to sleepily smile at you when your movements halt, "hi."

"Hey, you."

"I'm hot."

"Yeah, you are."

"No," he pouts, "I'm like super warm."

After placing a hand on his forehead, a frown slightly turns your lips downwards because he is heating up, sweat glistening at his hairline. "Are you feeling okay? Here, let me go get you — "

"Stay," a warm hand grabs at your arm before you can move away, "make it better."

"That's what I'm trying to do, doofus."

"Mhm, but you know how you can help me, right?" Seokmin brings your fingertips to graze along his chest with a lazy grin. "You'll make me feel alright again, yeah baby? Do it for me?"

He's released his grip but your fingers continue to trail downward, snorting as his smirk grows wider. "If you wanted to get sucked off so badly, all you had to do was ask."

"I did tho, didn't I?" His eyelashes flutter when you start to play with the waistband of his boxers. "I was a good boy, right? You always know what I need."

It's a little ironic, really. Although you're simply teasing each other, it's very rare for your boyfriend to give in to his own wants and needs, even during sex. He's a pleaser, a giver, and a dedicated lover. So, it's no surprise to feel an overwhelming ego boost when he's pliant beside you, asking sweetly for your touch with puppy dog eyes no one can resist.

"You're always so good to me," you assure and lean to peck at his lips, minty breaths mingling together. Then you're marking his jaw with kisses that trail down his neck, underneath his pecs, past his abs, and lower and lower until you're sliding off his boxers. "Gonna treat you like you deserve, baby."

His soft "thank you, love" melts into a desperate whine when you finally unclothe him and wrap your hands around his cock. It lies hot and heavy against your palm causing you to instinctively lick your lips, jaw already aching. Meeting his lidded gaze that's simply waiting for your next movement, you can't help but giggle when he raises an eyebrow at the mischievous way you smile before blowing lightly at his hardening length.

"Hey!" Seokmin yelps, hips jerking up in shock, "what was that for?"

"Just cooling you down, babe."

"Don't tease me," he huffs in indignation before lifting his pelvis up on purpose, brushing the head of his cock against your bottom lip. "Please."

When the love of your life begs so sweetly like that, who are you to resist? Licking the smear of precum left behind ignites a hungry spark that glints in your eyes — and you give into what you both want.

Your tongue eagerly laps up the leaking salty excess as your lips wrap around his sizable girth. Alternating between sucking, licking, swirling, and even grazing your teeth carefully along the underside of his cock as you work him deeper and further into your mouth. It's sloppy and pornographically loud. No rhyme or reason with the way your brain is still muddled with the faint buzz of alcohol and sleep, mixed with a lot of good, horny feelings.

Seokmin loves it best that way… if his whimpered praises are anything to go by.

"God, baby, look how gorgeous you are like this. Treat me so well always, love you so much, shit… best thing that ever happened to me."

Head thrown back to display how his Adam's apple bobs when he feels the way your throat constricts around the tip before you pull off slightly. His hips unapologetically take on a mind of their own, gently thrusting back and forth to hear more of those pretty gagging sounds you make for him.

It feels too good and he's afraid he won't be able to stop. Seokmin knows you'll tap his thigh if you need a break but you're as far gone into it as he is. Moaning freely, pussy clenching painfully around nothing, and drooling saliva that leaks all the way down his balls. You don't want him to stop, crazed by how he's using you like his perfect little toy to get off.

But he pulls away all too suddenly — mainly to let you breathe — but before you can reach back out to take him into your mouth again, he's pulling you up by your shoulders. Stealing your breath again but this time with a kiss. Gently soothing your abused mouth with soft licks and pecks, humming in contemplation.

"This what I taste like?"

"Mhm, pretty yummy, huh?"

Your boyfriend thinks it's sexy that you like it but — there's something he obviously enjoys more. "It's alright, I guess… I prefer having you on my tongue instead, though."

You should've known what was coming next but you still squeal in surprise when he's urging you out of your sleep shorts and underwear. Muttering something about "gotta eat this pretty pussy out" before he's commanding you to sit on his face.

You're a little caught off guard by the delay of his pleasure but all you can do is obediently position your thighs around his head, slipping back into the standard mode of operation that Seokmin usually revels in anyways.

One of your hands flies out to support your weight, gripping onto the headboard while the other threads through his bangs because your man might be a little too excited to stick his tongue inside.

"Aw baby," he practically growls, "look at how nice and wet you are from just a little sucking on my dick." The vibrations cause you to shiver and you feel his lips quirk up in a devious smirk at that. "Cute."

His tongue runs along your folds with little kitten licks paired with harsh sucks. He's awfully eager for someone who has eaten you out many times before but that's simply because he's addicted. The groans Seokmin makes put your earlier noises to shame. You might've been embarrassed if your own loud moans weren't drowning him out.

"Fuck, Seok… you're so good at this," you pant and rock your hips, grinding down just a little.

He grunts in approval, appreciation, and acknowledgment. It's more than true. Even when he was new at giving oral, his efforts and features made up for whatever uncertainty he held.

You would continue to suck him off while he ate you out if possible. But the way his nose brushes and nudges against your clit just right as it always does… you've never thought to switch up positions. What a shame, really.

It takes everything in you to lean back. Seokmin is none the wiser, thinking you're only shifting in the heat of the moment for more enjoyment until your hand fumbles for his cock behind you. He jolts at your touch, tapping your thigh. You struggle to lift up, barely any strength thanks to your trembling thighs.

"What're you doing?"

"Wanna jerk you off."

"Yeah?" he snickers, naughty fingers stroking your outer pussy lips to gather up your wetness before slipping inside to replace his tongue for a bit. It's the absolute fear of potentially crushing his windpipe that prevents you from ultimately collapsing (and maybe the strong hand on your hip). "But I wanna feel you wrapped around me and I don't mean your hand."

"What are you gonna do about it then?" you challenge. As if the smirk on his face doesn't exist when you clench tightly around his three fingers at the mere mention of his cock inside you. They curl up to brush against the bundle of nerves that causes you to writhe in pleasure.

Seokmin watches you with a lazy grin. Although love always shines in his eyes, lust is overtaking that wholesome glimmer with a carnality that has you shaking without even reaching a climax yet. He knows this and relishes it.

"What am I doing about it? Hmm, I think I'll have to make sure you cum at least once so you can take my dick properly. Gotta loosen you up, like the loving boyfriend I am." His fingers begin moving at a rapid pace, taking you by surprise. With a squeal, you nearly drop right down on him. "Isn't that right, baby?"

"Ah…. yes!"

He nudges you forward a little bit, satisfied with your response. Pulling his hands away from your body completely, you feel the bundle of nerves snap just as he releases his grip. Your orgasm hits the minute Seokmin's lips meet your lower ones and you both moan in tandem. Loud enough to rival a porn star when he starts sucking like a heathen and laps up the wetness that spills out of your hole with your release.

You clamber off of him — very ungracefully — and flop down on your side, trying to catch your breath. "You're insane."

"You love it."

"Just because you think you're right, doesn't mean you have to say it."

Seokmin grins and licks his fingers clean before they softly cup your cheek. When he turns to face you, his cock slaps lightly against your thigh, reminding you he hasn't cum yet. But he's in no rush, leisurely kissing you before it deepens and you taste each other on both of your tongues.

"I'm always right," he mumbles, tongue brushing across your lips, "because you do taste the best between the two of us."

You slap his arm. "Stop!"

"You didn't deny it so I win."

"Do you want to fuck around and not have sex or would you rather I go to sleep?"

"Now, now," he chastises sweetly and nudges you so your back is pressed tightly against his firm, broad chest. "Be nice, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes. "I can't with you, oh my go — "

But your "Omigod" changes from annoyed to breathless when his large, warm hand fondles your chest while the other teasingly nudges the tip of his cock between your folds.

"What were you saying?" Seokmin mocks in a sickeningly sweet voice but you can only moan in response. "Uh-huh, that's what I thought."

He's tortuously slow. Although, it's not entirely on purpose. He's still too out of it to have the energy to change positions and even as much as he enjoys watching you bounce yourself silly on top of him, he figures you don't have the strength to do so.

But this is somehow even better. You gasp, feeling every single thick, long, big inch of him enter you while pressing hot kisses against the back of your neck.

"You're so pretty," he murmurs once he's bottomed out. The two of you stay still like that, simply reeling in the emotional connection — emotionally and quite literally — wrapped in one another's warmth. "My love."

"I adore you. Sometimes. More often than not."

He chuckles. "Is that so?"

After a while, you're wiggling your hips and signaling to your boyfriend that he can move if he wants to. You're honestly impressed with his control, wondering how long he plans on prolonging his raging boner. Not that you're complaining. You're more than happy to cockwarm him at any time around the clock. But it has to be slightly painful to stay hard for that long.

Seokmin's thrusts aren't rushed but they're by no means set in a smooth, consistent rhythm, betraying his desperation. It might just be the alcohol canceling out any sharp movements and it makes you consider having sex a little bit more often this way. Indulging in an open-mouthed kiss that's equally as relaxed and sensual as his pace, you could almost fall asleep again in the most delicious way.

But of course, Seokmin is having none of that.

"You can give me one more right, baby?"

"Mhm."

His hand leaves your breasts, easily finding your clit. Playing with it languidly, just enough that you're buzzing with anticipation but not enough to tip you over that edge quite yet. Your partner likes to think that he knows your body extremely well by now. And he thinks he enjoys finding out how you respond in this position, pressed against him in such an intimate way.

He loves eye contact, the expressions you make on your pretty face, the way you grip and mark up his back and biceps with your nails. But now, Seokmin can feel how you tremble in his arms, the tiny shift in movements when you unconsciously grind your ass across his abs every time you take his cock deep inside your perfect pussy. Fingers tugging on the tiny hairs on his neck, encouraging him to nibble on the top of your shoulder.

And when — oh, god — when you release the grip on his strands of hair and place your hand over his that's remained stationary the whole time on your hip bone, interlocking your digits together — he thinks he might cum on the spot.

Both his balls and heart are heavy and full of an incredible amount of love for you. He admits it repeatedly in your ear, thrusts turning more into a sloppy, erratic mess as he gives into chasing his high.

"Adore you so much, god, you're everything to me. You know that right?"

You grip the bedsheets with your other hand when you feel yourself start to jostle and slide upwards at his movement. "Love you too. So much, baby."

"Can you cum for me one more time, my pretty love? Soak my dick so I can fill you up nicely?"

"Yeah, I can. I can do it."

Your tongues tangle again, this time with a bit more aggression as you both help each other reach that peak. You reach your second climax first, not as intense as before but enough that you're clenching so tight around Seokmin and dripping down his aching cock as asked that he has no choice but to finally snap and let go.

The sounds he makes are pussy-fluttering, a breathy, drawn out moan directly in your ear followed by a low, satisfied grunt. His hips never falter until every drop is spilled inside, filling you up just as he promised. It's as warm and thick as the alcohol working itself out. You feel drowsy and sated in the best way possible.

Your dedicated, hard working lover must feel the same because he hasn't moved. Of course, he hasn't let go of your hand, body clinging to yours, softening cock still inside you as he sighs in content and nuzzles your neck.

"Do you feel better?"

"Yeah."

You try to wiggle out of his grasp but he doesn't let go. "Seok, we need to clean up."

"'m tired."

"Well, Mr. Sleepyhead, we can rest after."

"We already showered, though."

"A cold one will make you feel good." Despite the way Seokmin still feels extremely hot to the touch, little goosebumps prickle along his skin at the mention of a cold shower. You pat his forearm. "I'll help you wash up."

"Okay."

It's a relief he acquiesces, knowing it would be difficult to escape his grip if he decided not to budge. His cheeks are still flushed cutely but you have to snort at the way his skin manages to glow so handsome and perfectly with that after sex, post-orgasmic effect.

"No shower sex," you threaten.

He pouts. "I dunno what you're talking about. 'm literally too tired to even move. Who knows, you might be the one to jump me."

"I would never! Besides you're the one who's always surprising me but either way you're going to have to get up." You roll over and stand, pulling at his arm when he refuses to release his grasp on your hand. "C'mon, babe."

"Alright, alright." He's about to make a comment of how energetic you are until he sees you wince and limp a bit toward the bathroom. You know he knows but choose to ignore his smirk. "Does sex help prevent hangovers?"

"I have no idea but I've heard it's supposed to help with headaches."

"Let me know if you have one tomorrow."

"Seokmin!"

"'m just saying."

"You're gonna fuck me either way. But we're sleeping in, it's already like five in the morning."

"You're right. On both accounts."

You hand him a glass of water with a scowl. "You can be so annoying."

"But you love me."

"Lucky that I honestly really do. Now come here so I can wash your hair."

"Yes, yes right away, love."

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