đđđ¤đđđđđđđŁÂ
â pfp by serena malyon.
â 18+ blog. block tag:pwp & rec:nsfw for a smut-free experience.
â Stories are not representative of the best safe sex practices. Use adequate protection for any sexual situation that you are in.
â Any instances of immoral acts are not an endorsement of said act.
â All stories are my original work and not to be reposted/translated/finished by AI without my permission.
đŠ đŁđđđđđŁ:
âš bakugou
âš beelzebub
âš dabi
âš john 'soap' mactavish
âš leviathan
âš mammon
âš obey me
âš satan
âš task force 141
âš yoarashi
đđŞ đĄđŁđ đđĄđĽ đâ đ¤đđŁđđđ¤:
âš caring sentence starters
âš hold the mean
âš indulge me
âš major arcana
âš nejihinaweek2020
âš nejihinaweek2023
soulmate first words au where Simon grew up with the words âoh my god, please, donât.â plastered across his arm in dark black ink. since the moment he could read, heâd been terrified of what that meant. heâd heard those words from him mother enough times when his dad came home drunk and swinging fists towards anything that moved, heâd heard them in back alleys while undercover, some poor woman being groped by a man twice her size, and heâd even heard it once or twice from the poor fucker heâd put a bullet in after interrogations gone wrong. Every time he flinches, wondering if that was his one shot at something good heâd just killed in cold blood. Fitting, for a bastard like him, or so he told himself.
It wasnât until a night off with the team in some sweaty, sticky bar that he runs into you. As much as he tries to ignore the girl on a shitty date who keeps pushing the manâs hands off her ass and fake laughing at his boring jokes, it grates at him for reasons he can quite grasp. Later, heâll catch the tail end of a screaming match outside the bar. One that has your date storming off, and you sinking onto the grimy concrete in your nicest outfit. Heâll watch from the shadows, flicking the ash off a cigarette before finally saying, âWant me to kill him for ya?â and when your eyes shoot up to the stranger in disbelief he tacks on, âfree of charge.â
He almost canât make it out through your laughter, wet with lingering tears. âoh my god, please, donât.â you chuckle, âi wouldnât last a day in prison.â between the burning on his arm, exactly where those dreaded words are, and the way the air feels like itâs been punched straight from his lungs, simon canât muster up a reply fast enough.
You, on the other hand, have a smile slowly forming as you rub your own burning mark. âDo you know how worried my parents were when they saw what this said? They put me in preemptive therapy and everything. Thought Iâd end up in a gang or something.â The man reaches a hand out, offering to help you stand. âYouâre not are you? In a gang I mean?â
Another puff of smoke leaves his lips in what you think might have been the beginning of a laugh. âNo, military. Close enough, though.â
Dusting yourself off, you sneak a closer look at the shadowed stranger. your soulmate, a voice inside flutters with childish glee. âWell damn, there go all my mob wife aspirations.â
He sighs, and steps closer to you, just within the light of a flickering street lamp. Now, you can make out his features. Scars cover every inch of exposed skin, twisting and mangling what might have once been a fair face. Under your gaze, he waits cautiously, âSorry to disappoint.â A double meaning you catch immediately.
You motion back to the bar the both of you had been in earlier, then close your fingers around his with a tug, âMake it up to me, then?â
The event (aka the posting week) will run from July 20th to July 26th.
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Ok, I had a thot, hear me out. What if... reader was with Ghost. (Doing sex). Then Soap enters the chat. But, he uh, gets behind Ghost. ... Ghost would probably have a hard time keeping his composure.
Ok running away now.
You're right, and you should say it.
You can feel the exact moment when Johnny joins you. His fingertips trail down Simon's spine, and Ghost's hips stutter to a halt.
"Fuckin' hell, Johnny," he groans, beginning to thrust again. Slower. Deeper.
Simon's arms shake, and he just catches himself from collapsing down on top of you as Johnny begins to kiss a languid trail down his back. Somebody's hand slides up your calf, and you don't know which of your lovers it belongs to, but Simon's head falls forward to rest against your shoulder just as you feel the first graze of a soft tongue against your entrance where you're stretched wide over Simon's cock.
"Christ," he pants, warm against your skin.
He keeps his pace slow, and you can feel the effort it costs him in the tremble of his body, the rasp of his breath. The tip of Johnny's tongue slips inside you, sliding gloriously along Simon's cock before retreating. You feel the light scratch of his stubble between your thighs, and when you hear a quiet sucking sound, you know he's giving Simon's bollocks the attention they so richly deserve.
He sucks and licks, alternating between you and Simon, until your other lover is reduced to a whimpering, squirming mess, muffling his groans and pleas into your chest as he ruts desperately into your body. And when he comesâfar sooner than he'd likeâJohnny is there to lick the both of you clean.
Hi Fox :3c what if Soap could tell who Reader had gotten fucked by just by the taste of their cum inside her? :3c
BABES.
I have been staring at this ask since you sent it and I am SO SORRY for how late this is!! I never forgot about you!!
Johnny MacTavish x F!Reader
CW: Oral, Poly?141, Slight jealousy?, Cum eating
Johnny always knew when his lass fucked someone else. He could tell by the way her eyes were lighter and the flush that dusted her cheeks. It was obvious. But you never told him who. So, he resorted to other methods.
â
You came back to your shared room after showering off the grime of a training day and found Johnny lounging on your bunk, legs splayed, boots still muddy from the field. He grinned at you in a way that was hungry and a little mean, but you hadn't seen him for hours, so it couldn't be about anything but needing you. Johnny always knew, though. He stripped you with that look and the next thing you knew, you were corralled and pinned against the wall, his mouth smashed on yours, tongue so deep it left you dizzy and panting.
"Missed ye, hen," he said, face already between your legs, his hands sure and unhurried. You tried to squirm free - half-hearted, because you wanted this too - but he just yanked your fatigues off and pressed his face to your cunt with zero preamble, licking a broad stripe from ass to clit. You shivered in response and he lapped at you for a while, slow at first, then faster, coming up every now and then to hum against your thigh or look at your face.
The first time it happened, you thought he was only teasing. He craned back, wiped his chin, and grinned with a glint. "Ahh, lass. Ye're trouble, ye ken?" You were confused and drunk on the way he worked your body, but then he said it: "Ye let Ghost fuck you, didn't ye?"
You felt your heart pound. You shouldn't have been shocked, but Johnny noticed things, he was like that. But how in the hell�
He thumbed your spit-slick cunt and chuckled. "Could taste 'im on you, hen. Next time, clean up better, aye?" he said, and dug back in, as if he delighted in the evidence, as if he wanted to take you hard enough to overwrite it. It made your skin burn, made your blood rush.
After that, it became a game. You'd see how long it would take for Johnny to taste who had been inside you. Sometimes it was Simon, slow and gentle, hands big enough to cover your whole skull. Once it was Price, an experiment, a night of whisky and an old hurt between you both; Johnny caught it the next morning and bit your thigh hard enough to leave a bruise, but only laughed when you yelped.
Sometimes, you let it happen on purpose. You liked the way Johnny would growl against you, how he'd fuck you right after, hard, greedy, muttering that you were his. There was no jealousy, just this competitive hunger, always wanting to outdo the last taste.
Even now, you lay back on your bunk, legs spread wide for Johnny as he licked you clean, and you knew what he'd say before he said it. He sucked your swollen cunt hard, then pulled away and stared up at you, pupils blown. "Price again?"
You nodded, breathless and a little ashamed.
"Mmhm-"
Johnny's eyes went soft. "S'okay hen, but ye ken I cannae have that." He dropped back down, buried his face in you, tongue fucking you through the aftertaste of someone else. He was obsessive like that - he wouldn't stop until he'd washed every trace of someone else away.
when he fucks you, simon's usually just a panter. some grunts might find a way to slip their way out of him but he's gotten adept in keeping quiet, focused on hearing you and your noises and how to make them that much louderâthat is, until the first time he fucks you raw.
after that, he's crumbling. trapping you in between the mattress and his heavy-as-a-ton mass of a figure, giving you little to no time to breathe in between the deepest stroke he can manage.
your shoulder is a mess of his sweat and drool as ghost pounds himself into you, groaning and whimpering at how he can feel every single soaking twitch and warm hug of your walls. how you leak and cream out so much your arousal that it mixes with his and splatters between the two of your jerking bodies. his accent slurs into something unintelligible, sounding worse than drunk whenever he speaks, most of his words either thick swears or shaking croaks of your name.
he cries and clutches you and wails so loud that you can no longer hear the thump of the bed against the wall when simon comes, stuffing you with a gushing load he just uses as lube to keep his thrust. completely intoxicated by you, simon can't quit. you just feel too good and he's too wrecked to not indulge.
sá´á´á´á´ĘĘ: To the winner goes the spoils. The spoils is Johnny's tongue.
â.Ë â˝ á´á´É˘s: little bit dom reader; look ma no hands; outercourse; messy boy
á´É´: Starting a short series of fantasies I'd thought of writing as generic first/second person and putting on reddit but the 141 guys fit the ideas I have very well, so let's have a bit of fun with them ⢠ᴠ< and kinktober is the perfect time to indulge!
âââ ââ âźâ â âââ
    âYou wanna play a game?â
    To anyone else, that would be an odd thing to whisper into your boyfriendâs ear while sitting half naked in his lap. But Johnnyâs familiar with your penchant for trickery.
    âAye, whitâve ye got for us this time?â
    You kiss his nose and lean back to look over the man beneath you, shirtless, close to flashing you when he preens and stretches under your appraisal, and the loose waist of his shorts inches down his hips. You are in a similar state of undress, panties and an old shirt of his. It is noon on your only shared day off and the bed has yet to release either of you from its comfort.
    Biting your lower lip, you walk two fingers over the cut of muscle that starts at his hip, trailing down its slope until it intersects the thicket of his happy trail and the hem of his pants. You hook a finger over the elastic and tug and when his head pops over the edge, blushing and winking wetly, you and Johnny laugh the same punched-out sigh of lewd incredulity.
    âHow about my pussy makes out with your dick and whoever comes first loses?â
    Johnny laughs again but his interest makes itself known in the twitch of his cock against your knuckles. âThat all? Yer gonnae hump me like a school girl with her first jo? Pure pimps.â
    His smile is all teeth and self-assurance wiped away when you catch his hands halfway up your torso and pin them down by his head. Leaning over him has the added effect of introducing your covered mons to the underside of his hardening cock and you settle in deeper with a languid wiggle of your hips. âAnd we canât touch each other. Still think itâs pimps?â Your attempt at his Scottish brogue falters around the giggles you press into his pouting lips. âUnless you canât handle it?â
    His hands flex around yours and, eyes closed, you let him weigh his odds while dragging your lips over his face in coaxing kisses. You grace the edge of his jaw with one final tease and, as unhurried as the sun breaking over the horizon, turn your gaze to meet his apprehensive stare. The challenging cock of your eyebrow is what settles it. âAye, I can do it! Am no wee barra thatâll come his pants that fast.â
    There is a whirlwind of motion as you stand to strip and Johnny throws his shorts across the bed. You clamber back over him, sitting up on your knees as you straddle his waist. His hands come out and hover by your hips. He glares at them a moment, then curses under his breathââFeck.ââbefore reaching up to the headboard and grabbing hold of the bottom lip. You can hear the squeeze of the wood under his grip as he looks down at where your cunt hovers above his cock, twitching and turgid.
    You look at each other at the same time and his voice lacks the same level of conviction from moments ago. âWhitâs the prize?â
    âWinner gets to use the loser however they want.â Your head tilts to the side as you stroke up and down your sternum, hand drifting left or right to catch a hardening nipple on the edge of your fingers. The curl of your smile is lascivious, the coo of your voice saccharine and you can feel the hairs on Johnnyâs skin stand up against the inside of your thigh. âDeal?â
    His throat bobs around a dry-mouthed swallow. He jerks a nod. âDeal.â
    You can see the tension of his body, feel the anticipation of the coiled muscles beneath you but when your lips make no move to kiss him, he melts into the sheets. Johnnyâs blue eyes flicker between the apex of your legs and your fingertips trailing goosebumps along your torso. Impatience chisels at the fine lines of his furrowed brow, makes itself audible in the smack of his lips. He rolls his hips, attempting to slide the head of his cock between your wet heat but you move with him, cresting higher on your knees. A groan scratches the back of his throat.
    âGreas ort, hen!â
    âDinna fash, Johnny.â Despite the pride puffing up his chest at his speechcraft rubbing off on you, Soap rolls his eyes but they stop halfway to track your other hand coming around your hip, reaching down to pet at the damp hair of your pussy. Two fingers spread and with it your lips so your clit peeks from under its hood. With a languid sweep of one finger, you wet the bundle of nerves using the thick, pearlescent arousal leaking from your cunt. Your plundering breaks the seal and more slick dribbles like honey onto the underside of Johnny's cock and his breath catches in his throat. âJust making sure it's a smooth ride.â
    When your fingers and lips glisten, you lower your backside onto Johnny's lap. You snatch your hand back before it touches him, determined not to lose your own game so soon, and meet the pulsing rigidity of his cock with a wet kiss. Twin slow exhales stutter through the air. A small shift of your weight settles you further and you pause to appreciate the heat of your sexes melding together.
    You occupy your hands with your breasts and, flashing Johnny a quick grin, begin to roll your hips. The sweat of his hands squeak against the wood of the bedframe and his mouth falls open as he watches the length of his prick become encased in your slick. Neither of you can tear your eyes away from the obscenity. Sparks race along your spine as your clit nudges the ridge of his cockhead and then surmounts it, meeting his leaking slit and mixing his pre with your own, smearing the concoction down his dick as you cant backwards until you sit on his thighs. Time feels to melt away under your metronomic sway, marked only when you drop your hips to chase Johnnyâs pleasured whine or when you pull back to stave off your own excitement threatening to overwhelm you.
    Not until his chest is heaving and your slick drips down his balls does it dawn on Johnny that he is as much a player in this game as you. He starts to meet your undulations with his own. He dogs you when you back away, thwarting your attempts at alleviation and meets you when you retaliate so that your lower halves stay locked in a messy make out session. The roil of his muscles beneath tan skin demands your attention and your palms itch to run along his trim obliques, to trace his defined abdomen up until you hold his pectorals in your hands instead of your own. You would use your grip for leverage, find the perfect angle to grind the concupiscence into your bones until it fuses to your soul, until you are both blissed out messes with stardust in your eyes. The image is undeniably tempting and you find yourself chasing it, tilting forward before instinct kicks in and your hands slap the top of the bedframe lest you fall face first into your boyfriend. Beneath you, Johnny manages a weak chuckle on the scant air left from his panting.
    Your fumble renews his vigor, if the cloying smirk and increased pace of his thrusts is any indication, leaving you to your tried and true method to get Johnny to come: dirty talk.
    âWanna know what Iâll do when I win?â
  This laugh is more breathless than the last as the new angle catches the head of his cock at your hole. When your words make their way through the blissful static, he shakes his head.
    âWhen? Yer right maikintââ
    âWhen I win,â you lean down as low as you can hold yourself, until Johnnyâs blown out stare finds your own. Your hips ease into a torpid rhythm matching the pace of your words as you drawl, âIâm gonna fuck your face just . . . like . . . this.â
    Johnnyâs retort is swallowed by the moan that starts low in his stomach, vibrates up his chest and claws its way out of his mouth. His dick pulses between your lips and the first shot of come lands on his chest. Game over, you grab for each other, his hands kneading the fat of your ass and continuing to rock you against him, yours tugging at his mohawk until your mouth finds his in a kiss that is all tongue and billowing breaths. As he rides his orgasm and the waves roll out, you lie over him, ignoring the cooling spend squished between your stomachs. The kisses slow with the evening of his breath and the last is met with a heavy sigh and your curious eyebrow.
    â. . . cannae believe I lost.â
    âI can.â Johnny rolls his eyes at your cheshire smile but cannot help grinning back and slapping a rough hand against your flank. With a parting kiss, you rise and start wiggling your way up his body, smearing your arousal and his come across his chest on your way to his mouth. âNow, open up, Johnny-boy.â
being the new, shy tech for the 141 introduced by laswell, and the boys are already trying to tease you. (18+)
youâre playing a game of truth or dare, taking shots and laughing and trying to relax even though the pub is so loud. itâs a saturday, thereâs a footie game on, and youâre just trying to get to know them better.
well, johnny and gaz dare you to ask ghost out. the big brute thatâs standing like an awkward statue ordering more drinks at the bar. and there you go, swaying on fawn legs, poking ghost gently in his meaty arm. the boys watch as ghost has to bend down to hear you over the noise, and you stand on your toes, putting your hands on his shoulder and murmuring in his ear.
you disappear with that big giant manâs arm around your waist, and when you come back to the table about twenty minutes later, youâre giggly and a little sweaty and stumbling just a little more. johnny leans over the table, confused.
âwhat happened? what did he say?â
âhuh?â you raise a brow.
âwhat did he say? when ye asked him out?â
âohâŚâ you go warm all over, pressing the backs of your hands to your cheeks. âis thatâŚis that what you meant? i couldnât hear you!â
âwhat?â
the booth rattles when ghost sits his weight down right beside you, big fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck and curling you up so he can press his forehead to yours. the eye contact is intense, and you break out into another fit of giggles as you stare right back at him.
big, scary bear. adorable giant.
you turn back to johnny, shrugging your shoulders.
âi thoughtâŚi thought you said to ask him to eat me out.â
Hi Sunny! if possible could i request Sir Crocodile x F!Reader who's really sweet but often has high libido & she's shy about it? so during intimacy, Crocodile trains her to voice her needs more :3c Thank you in advance ^_^ !!!
maybe sprinkle size difference & sir kink for fun teehee
Or so broad. Or so handsome in that cruel, dangerous kind of way that made your thighs press together under the desk when he gave you the briefest glance.
But it was your fault that you were squirming nowâhalf-draped across his silk-covered bed, robe slipping from one shoulder, too shy to say the words that burned on your tongue.
Crocodile leaned against the doorframe, still dressed down for the evening. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, cigar between his teeth, watching you with half-lidded amber eyes.
"You're quiet tonight," he said lowly, taking the cigar from his mouth. Smoke curled from his lips. âToo quiet. What is it you want?â
Your breath caught. He always knew.
You averted your eyes, clutching at the sheet beneath you. Your thighs clenched again, involuntarily. He caught the movement, of course. He missed nothing.
âYou've been sweet all day,â he said, voice a slow drawl now, heavier with something darker. âBatting your lashes at me, wringing your hands. Thought I wouldnât notice how flustered you got when I stood behind you at the meeting?â
You whimperedâsmall, embarrassed, but unmistakably aroused. God, why was he always so calm? So in control?
He stepped closer. His shadow fell over you as he approached the bed. âCome now, dove. Youâve got that look in your eye again. Say what you want.â
Your fingers twisted in the sheets. âIâI canât.â
Crocodile tilted his head, then smirked. âYou canât, or you wonât?â
âIâmâŚâ You squeezed your thighs together. âIâm just⌠embarrassed.â
He set the cigar aside on a tray, then reached for you. A hand brushed your chin up gently, forcing your gaze to meet his. The way he filled your vision, how large his frame was compared to yoursâit made your heart race. His presence was magnetic. Heavy. Made your insides flutter.
His voice dropped. âDo I look like a man whoâs interested in you hiding from me?â
Your lip quivered. âNo, SirâŚâ
Something tightened in his gaze at that. He hummed. âGood girl.â
That praise made your stomach flip. You whimpered again, softer this time, your body betraying you. Crocodileâs thumb dragged across your lower lip.
âYou think I havenât noticed?â he murmured. âHow often you bite your lip when you get needy. How your little breaths change when I touch your back or brush your waist? You donât hide it well, sweetheart.â
You burned. Every nerve alight. âI donât mean toâŚâ
âI know.â He leaned in, his voice brushing your ear. âThatâs what makes it so cute.â
And then his mouth was on your neck, sharp teeth grazing your throat, tongue flicking the tender place beneath your earâteasing you, stoking your heat. His hand slipped down, slow and firm, splaying over your hip, fingers curling possessively around the softness there.
You gasped. âSirâŚâ
âThereâs my girl.â He pulled back to look at you. âWhat is it?â
You hesitated. But his hand dipped lower.
âSay it,â he coaxed, voice rougher now. âYou want my fingers? My cock? Both?â
You whined, eyes fluttering shut. âY-Your fingers, pleaseâŚâ
âMmm.â His hand smoothed between your thighs, nudging them open with no effort. âYou ask so nicely when you try.â
He pressed two fingers against your soaked folds through the thin lace of your panties. The noise you made was helplessâhalf-gasp, half-moan.
âOh,â he murmured with a dangerous smile, voice soaked in amusement. âYouâre soaked, darling. Been worked up all day, havenât you?â
You nodded, too ashamed to speak, and he clicked his tongue.
âSweet little thing,â he muttered, âalways so shy about how filthy you really are.â
And then his finger pushedâ thick, unrelentingâright past the edge of your panties, sinking into your wet heat with a practiced ease that made your whole body arch. You cried out, hips jerking.
âSirâ!â
âI know,â he soothed, stroking deep inside you, then curlingâfinding that spot that made you shiver. âBut Iâm gonna need you to say more.â
You trembled, mouth open, legs twitching around his wide body. âIâI need more, pleaseââ
âMore what?â
âMore of your fingers,â you choked out, flushed and breathless. âPlease, SirâŚâ
He rewarded you instantlyâanother finger, another roll of his wrist, his palm nudging your clit with every deep thrust. Your body writhed, and he held you down with a single arm like it was nothing.
âGood girl,â he praised again, gravel in his tone now. âLearning to ask for it.â
You could barely breathe. His fingers were thicker than yours, rougher, filling you better than anything else ever could. You whined, hands clutching at his shirt now.
âYou gonna come for me like this?â he asked, kissing the side of your face. âJust from my fingers?â
âIâI think soââ
âThen say it.â
You moaned, high-pitched, flustered beyond belief. âPlease let me come, SirâŚâ
He groaned. âThere it is.â
And he sped upâhis fingers fucking into you with more force now, palm grinding deliciously over your clit. The coil snapped fast. You came with a sob, clenching around him, legs kicking weakly against his hold. He didnât stop until you were twitching, overstimulated and limp, your voice reduced to gasps and tiny whimpers.
When he finally pulled his fingers out, he admired the slick coating his , then slipped them into his mouth and sucked.
You blushed crimson. âThatâsâŚâ
âPerfect,â he said, licking his lips. âAnd weâre not done.â
You barely had time to recover before he was undoing his beltâslowly, giving you a show, his massive frame looming over you again. When he freed himself, your mouth dropped open. You swallowed hard.
âIâll be gentle,â he said, almost mockingly sweet. âUnless you ask for otherwise.â
You blinked up at him. âSirâŚâ
âYes, sweetheart?â
ââŚHarder. Please.â
He growled. âYouâve gotten bold all of a sudden.â
You gave him a shy smile, still trembling. âYou trained me well.â
He loomed over you now, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock dragging against your entrance.
âDamn right I did.â
And with one slow, thick pushâhe buried himself inside you, inch by inch, until he filled every part of you and then some. You sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed. He cursed under his breath, arms braced on either side of you.
âSo fucking tight,â he hissed. âLike you were made for me.â
You were too full to speak. Too small beneath him, completely taken. But you managed the only words he needed to hear:
âPlease, SirâŚâ
His mouth twisted into a slow smirk, but there was nothing mocking in itâjust hunger. Deep and wild behind the usual cool control.
âYou donât know what those words do to me,â he growled, pulling back just slightly before driving forward again. Not hard, not yetâbut deep. The stretch knocked the breath from your lungs.
Your body arched beneath him, your legs trembling as they wrapped around his waist instinctively. âF-Fuckââ
He grunted as he bottomed out again. âLanguage,â he murmured against your throat, voice low and threatening. âSay Sir.â
You whimpered, barely able to breathe. âS-Sirâ!â
âGood girl.â
And then he movedâsteady at first, long strokes that pushed you into the mattress, his hips pressing into yours with heavy, deliberate force. Each time he buried himself fully, you felt your walls flutter helplessly around him. He was too bigâdeliciously too bigâand it felt like he was rearranging you from the inside out.
His handâhuge, callousedâslid under your thigh and pushed it higher, opening you even more.
The new angle made you cry.
âThere it is,â he growled. âThatâs the sound I want.â
His rhythm grew faster. Rougher. You clung to him with both arms, nails dragging lightly over his shoulders as he fucked into you like he was claiming you.
âSay it again.â
You blinked up at him, eyes glassy. âW-What?â
His hips snapped forward, and your whole body jolted. âSay what you need.â
You moaned, desperate and dizzy, your voice thin. âHarder, Sirâpleaseâ!â
He groaned, pleased, and gave you exactly what you begged for. Now he was slamming into you, heavy hips hitting yours with each punishing thrust. The bed creaked. The headboard thudded against the wall in time with the sharp, wet sound of your bodies meeting again and again. You were shaking, your moans climbing higher with each thrust.
âI canâtââ you gasped. âItâs too muchââ
âItâs never too much,â he growled. âYou can take it. You want to take it. So take it, sweetheart.â
And you did. You took everything.
He bent over you, chest to chest, his golden hook anchoring beside your head while his other hand curled beneath your jaw, forcing your teary, fucked-out gaze to meet his.
âYouâre mine when you fall apart,â he said, voice low and ragged. âSay it.â
You sobbed, clinging tighter. âYours, SirâIâm yoursââ
He kissed you like a man starvedâdeep and claiming, stealing your moans right from your throat. Your body convulsed beneath him. You came hardâwith a cry muffled by his mouth, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing his cock, and he cursed low and vicious.
âFuckâjust like that,â he growled. âYou feel that? How tight you get when you say my name?â
You were whimpering now, broken by pleasure, barely coherent. âSirâSirââ
âIâve got you,â he said, thrusts growing uneven, rougher, more desperate. âLet me fill you up. Let me mark you from the inside out.â
You couldnât even nod. You just said, breathless: âPleaseâŚâ
And he snapped.
With a final growl, he slammed deep and held thereâhis body trembling as he emptied inside you. Heat spread through your core, thick and slow. You felt every drop of it. He stayed there, panting against your throat, his weight anchoring you in place. You could feel his heart pounding.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of both your breathing. Your soft whimpers as your body twitched through the aftershocks. His low groan as he finallyâgentlyâpulled out.
You whimpered at the loss. He immediately leaned in to soothe you with kisses, rough fingers brushing damp hair from your face.
âYou did so well for me,â he said softly, cradling your cheek. âDidnât even need to tease it out of you this time.â
You smiled weakly, flushed and trembling. âI think⌠I like it when you tell me what to say.â
He chuckled low in his chest. âOf course you do.â And then, quietly: âDonât move. Iâll run a bath. Then youâll eat something. Then Iâll have you again.â
You laughed into his chest, dazed and boneless.
âI didnât realize I am with a tyrant.â
âYou are with a man who waited too damn long to call you his.â
You turned your face up to him. He caught it in his handâgentle, slow, reverentâand kissed you again.
Not the be that one person, but to totally be that one person... There's this one account posting a bunch of stories under Twisted Wonderland on AO3 named FantasiaStories (normally I wouldn't name and shame, but uh... for reasons detailed in the rest of the post, I feel quite comfortable in calling them out). After doing a little bit of investigative journalism (because seeing these stories while browsing got real old, real fast), I'm absolutely positive that they're AI-generated.
Why do I think that?
Come with me on a little red-flag-infested deep dive.
Red flag 1: Timelines
Their AO3 account was created at the end of March, 2025. Around two months ago.
In that time, they have posted 62 fanworks, all over 1,000 words. On some days, they'll post a handful of fanfics to AO3. Here are the fandoms they post in, and how much they have posted within them.
My condolences to the Call of Duty fandom; they truly have it worse than we do.
Red flag 2: Just look at it...
Their Twisted Wonderland posts (from what I've read of them) never seem too knowledgeable. Here is a breakdown of 'The Rite of Storm and Flame', and how it betrays its own thin facade within paragraphs.
Maybe even by the summary... What jumps out at you as odd here?
Is it the correct use of the em dash? I never use them correctly in my fics, because they're a pain, I have to copy/paste them everywhere (and I only recently learned how to use them correctly... I kept putting spaces on either side, because that looks better, but no, that's only okay in journalism, or something).
The formal punctation is a bit of a red flag, but not entirely damning. Plenty of more experienced writers will use accurate punctuation throughout their fanfics... Not many (because it's a paaaaain), but they do exist.
What's really, really weird here is the 'tallest tower' of Diasomnia.
I guess it does have a tower taller than the others. By like, a bit. But why are we trapped there? Let's read on and find out. This is the opening paragraph:
So now it's an 'ancient spire'.
Now it's an observatory that is centuries old with a heavy ironing door that has a locking mechanism??? With no explanations as to why the 'author' has included that detail. What stars were we studying? Diasomnia is super murky and potentially in a pocket dimension. Why would anybody think this up? Scarabia would make more sense for stargazing, or even just Ramshackle. These might seem like small details, but they add up into a vague, nonsense picture.
Skipping down a few paragraphs, we find a description of Malleus.
Ah yes, Malleus Draconia, guardian of Diasmonia, master of arcane arts older than Diasmonia itself, which has been established to be centuries old, but has not been established to be a dorm.
Now to be fair, NRC is actually centuries old with the Lilia of it all. I believe we know that Pomefiore is the oldest dorm (because... Snow White), so Diasomnia could have been founded centuries ago, and it could have a random observatory with a random locking mechanism...
But it's all so weird, and vague, and unexplored.
We also have 'a tale to frighten apprentices' which is super weird phrasing, that implies that this isn't NRC, but some other place called Diasmonia. Is it an AU or an AI that has no idea what it's actually talking about, because it doesn't have a brain? Whoooo knows?
They do a back and forth, there's a very quick, very basic sex scene, it ends.
There's one with Leona where it references him being a prince... but it sort of frames it as sort of an English, Game of Throne-sy type of royalty. Like, here, look:
The tapestries and hall and cloak don't read as Sunset Savanna to me... They read as 'Write me a story about a prince lol'. There's no nuance, no love for the source material, and no indication that a person who cares wrote it (because they didn't write it and they certainly didn't care).
Maybe you're reading this and thinking, "Gee Angel, you're being pretty harsh... What if this is a real person? What if you're wrong, and you're trampeling over a new writer's dreams? What if they really are churning out 5,000 words a day, or whatever?"
I am 100% positive that these are works of AI.
Why do I think that..?
Red Flag 3: THEY LITERALLY SAY THAT THEY ARE
I was burying the lead for this whole thing. Sorry about that.
In the notes of their AO3 'fanfics', they put something along the lines of...
(Note: The quote does not appear anywhere in the fic, it's literally just a call to action... blegh)
Now where does that 'Try Fantasia Stories' link go..? Most people would be smart enough not to click it.
I am not most people.
It takes the moron user (me) to this.
Now I'm no private investigator, but this seems like pretty clear evidence that the stories are being generated with this CleverBot lookin' thing.
By linking to this, there is a chance that they are violating AO3's content policy... however, this might not be the case. It looks sketchier than Azul, but it might not be for profit (I'm not poking around to find out).
The website sharing a name with the account is pretty suspicious to me, though.
Fun fact: AI work is considered perfectly acceptable by AO3's current policies so uh... that's unfortunate.
It might qualify as spam, but I doubt it, because their stories are reasonably different from one another.
So... what can we do about this?
We can all mute the user, be free from their constant low-effort posts, and go about our days.
That's it from me. If you recognised this account name and thought they were real, I'm sorry to have brought this unfortunate news to you. If you had never heard about them, that's probably for the best... And if you had seen their works and found something fishy about them, I hope you feel very vindicated.
User adelineallicee is also a bot/posting AI stuff. They're the only user FantasiaStories has bookmarks for and has the same copy and link to the AI chat
I got an email today about my report of these accounts (think I reported them for solicitation since the link to the AI service was paid) that their works were considered spam and removed!! so I recommend as well as getting the word out to report accounts like these bc they will be taken care of đŤĄ
Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because theyâre used to writing essays rather than prose. I donât wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesnât offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (âdialogue tagâ just refers to phrases like âhe said,â âshe whispered,â âthey askedâ):
âFor most dialogue, use a comma after the sentence and donât capitalize the next word after the quotation mark,â she said.
âBut what if youâre using a question mark rather than a period?â they asked.
âWhen using a dialogue tag, you never capitalize the word after the quotation mark unless itâs a proper noun!â she snapped.
âWhen breaking up a single sentence with a dialogue tag,â she said, âuse commas.â
âThis is a single sentence,â she said. âNow, this is a second stand-alone sentence, so thereâs no comma after âshe said.ââ
âThereâs no dialogue tag after this sentence, so end it with a period rather than a comma.â She frowned, suddenly concerned that the entire post was as unasked for as it was sanctimonious.
âIf you want to break up dialogue to insert an action"âshe gesticulated wildly to emphasize her pointâ"then you use em dashes around the action.â
âYou can also break up dialogue by placing the em dash inside the quotation mark, butââ She took a moment to catch her breath. ââyou must treat the action like a sentence. It must be capitalized with an end punctation.â
âWhen humans speak, we often get sidetracked (and share information that may not be all that pertinent, a secret, or something we probably shouldnât be talking about). Use parenthesis in your dialogue when you want to demonstrate this.â
***
âIf youâre writing a long monologue, then it likely needs to be broken into multiple paragraphs. Because one long paragraph of dialogue that takes up an entire page or multiple pages is very hard on the eyes.
âSo conclude the previous dialogue paragraph without a quotation mark, and start the next dialogue paragraph with a quotation mark. This shows the reader that the same person is still speaking, without the need for additional action or dialogue tags.â
Not the be that one person, but to totally be that one person... There's this one account posting a bunch of stories under Twisted Wonderland on AO3 named FantasiaStories (normally I wouldn't name and shame, but uh... for reasons detailed in the rest of the post, I feel quite comfortable in calling them out). After doing a little bit of investigative journalism (because seeing these stories while browsing got real old, real fast), I'm absolutely positive that they're AI-generated.
Why do I think that?
Come with me on a little red-flag-infested deep dive.
Red flag 1: Timelines
Their AO3 account was created at the end of March, 2025. Around two months ago.
In that time, they have posted 62 fanworks, all over 1,000 words. On some days, they'll post a handful of fanfics to AO3. Here are the fandoms they post in, and how much they have posted within them.
My condolences to the Call of Duty fandom; they truly have it worse than we do.
Red flag 2: Just look at it...
Their Twisted Wonderland posts (from what I've read of them) never seem too knowledgeable. Here is a breakdown of 'The Rite of Storm and Flame', and how it betrays its own thin facade within paragraphs.
Maybe even by the summary... What jumps out at you as odd here?
Is it the correct use of the em dash? I never use them correctly in my fics, because they're a pain, I have to copy/paste them everywhere (and I only recently learned how to use them correctly... I kept putting spaces on either side, because that looks better, but no, that's only okay in journalism, or something).
The formal punctation is a bit of a red flag, but not entirely damning. Plenty of more experienced writers will use accurate punctuation throughout their fanfics... Not many (because it's a paaaaain), but they do exist.
What's really, really weird here is the 'tallest tower' of Diasomnia.
I guess it does have a tower taller than the others. By like, a bit. But why are we trapped there? Let's read on and find out. This is the opening paragraph:
So now it's an 'ancient spire'.
Now it's an observatory that is centuries old with a heavy ironing door that has a locking mechanism??? With no explanations as to why the 'author' has included that detail. What stars were we studying? Diasomnia is super murky and potentially in a pocket dimension. Why would anybody think this up? Scarabia would make more sense for stargazing, or even just Ramshackle. These might seem like small details, but they add up into a vague, nonsense picture.
Skipping down a few paragraphs, we find a description of Malleus.
Ah yes, Malleus Draconia, guardian of Diasmonia, master of arcane arts older than Diasmonia itself, which has been established to be centuries old, but has not been established to be a dorm.
Now to be fair, NRC is actually centuries old with the Lilia of it all. I believe we know that Pomefiore is the oldest dorm (because... Snow White), so Diasomnia could have been founded centuries ago, and it could have a random observatory with a random locking mechanism...
But it's all so weird, and vague, and unexplored.
We also have 'a tale to frighten apprentices' which is super weird phrasing, that implies that this isn't NRC, but some other place called Diasmonia. Is it an AU or an AI that has no idea what it's actually talking about, because it doesn't have a brain? Whoooo knows?
They do a back and forth, there's a very quick, very basic sex scene, it ends.
There's one with Leona where it references him being a prince... but it sort of frames it as sort of an English, Game of Throne-sy type of royalty. Like, here, look:
The tapestries and hall and cloak don't read as Sunset Savanna to me... They read as 'Write me a story about a prince lol'. There's no nuance, no love for the source material, and no indication that a person who cares wrote it (because they didn't write it and they certainly didn't care).
Maybe you're reading this and thinking, "Gee Angel, you're being pretty harsh... What if this is a real person? What if you're wrong, and you're trampeling over a new writer's dreams? What if they really are churning out 5,000 words a day, or whatever?"
I am 100% positive that these are works of AI.
Why do I think that..?
Red Flag 3: THEY LITERALLY SAY THAT THEY ARE
I was burying the lead for this whole thing. Sorry about that.
In the notes of their AO3 'fanfics', they put something along the lines of...
(Note: The quote does not appear anywhere in the fic, it's literally just a call to action... blegh)
Now where does that 'Try Fantasia Stories' link go..? Most people would be smart enough not to click it.
I am not most people.
It takes the moron user (me) to this.
Now I'm no private investigator, but this seems like pretty clear evidence that the stories are being generated with this CleverBot lookin' thing.
By linking to this, there is a chance that they are violating AO3's content policy... however, this might not be the case. It looks sketchier than Azul, but it might not be for profit (I'm not poking around to find out).
The website sharing a name with the account is pretty suspicious to me, though.
Fun fact: AI work is considered perfectly acceptable by AO3's current policies so uh... that's unfortunate.
It might qualify as spam, but I doubt it, because their stories are reasonably different from one another.
So... what can we do about this?
We can all mute the user, be free from their constant low-effort posts, and go about our days.
That's it from me. If you recognised this account name and thought they were real, I'm sorry to have brought this unfortunate news to you. If you had never heard about them, that's probably for the best... And if you had seen their works and found something fishy about them, I hope you feel very vindicated.
User adelineallicee is also a bot/posting AI stuff. They're the only user FantasiaStories has bookmarks for and has the same copy and link to the AI chat
These are your micro-signals, like the blinking neon signs of the soul. But theyâre small, quick, and often lie harder than words.
Raised eyebrows â This can mean surprise or disbelief, sure. But it can also be a full-on, silent âAre you serious right now?â when someoneâs being ridiculous. Or even curiosity when someoneâs too emotionally repressed to askthe damn question.
Furrowed brow â That face people make when theyâre doing long division in their head or trying to emotionally process a compliment. Itâs thinking, yesâbut also confusion, deep frustration, or quiet simmering rage.
Smiling â Can be happiness⌠or total fake-it-till-you-make-it energy. Some smiles are stiff. Some donât reach the eyes. Show that.
Frowning â Sure, sadness. But also: disappointment, judgment, or the universal âIâm about to say something blunt, brace yourself.â
Lip biting â Itâs not just nervousness, itâs pressure. Self-control. Anticipation. Itâs the thing people do when they want to say something and decide, at the last second, not to.
â° Eye movement
The window to the soul? Yeah. But also the window to when someoneâs lying, flirting, or deeply trying not to cry in public.
Eye contact â Confidence or challenge. Eye contact can be gentle, curious, sharp like a blade. Sometimes itâs desperate: âPlease understand me.â
Avoiding eye contact â Not always guilt. Sometimes itâs protectiveness. Sometimes itâs âIâm afraid if I look at you, youâll see everything Iâm trying to hide.â
Narrowed eyes â Calculating. Suspicious. The look someone gives when their brainâs saying âhmmm...â and itâs not a good hmm.
Wide eyes â Surprise, yes. But also sudden fear. The oh-God-itâs-happening look. Or when someone just found out theyâre not as in control as they thought.
Eye roll â Classic. But try using it with tension, like when someoneâs annoyed and trying very hard not to lose it in public.
â° Gestures
This is where charactersâ emotions go when their mouths are lying.
Crossing arms â Not just defensive. Sometimes itâs comfort. A self-hug. A barrier when the conversation is getting too personal.
Fidgeting â This is nervous energy with nowhere to go. Watch fingers tapping, rings spinning, sleeves tugged. It says: Iâm not okay, but Iâm trying not to show it.
Pointing â Itâs a stab in the air. Aggressive, usually. But sometimes a desperate plea: Look. Understand this.
Open palms â Vulnerability. Honesty. Or a gesture that says, âI have nothing left to hide.â
Hand on chin â Not just thinking. Itâs stalling. Itâs delaying. Itâs âIâm about to say something that might get me in trouble.â
â° Posture and movement
These are your vibes. How someone occupies space says everything.
Slumped shoulders â Exhaustion. Defeat. Or someone trying to take up less space because they feel small.
Upright posture â Not always confidence. Sometimes itâs forced. Sometimes itâs a character trying really, really hard to look like theyâre fine.
Pacing â Inner chaos externalized. Thinking so loudly it needs movement. Waiting for something. Running from your own thoughts.
Tapping foot â Tension. Irritation. Sometimes a buildup to an explosion.
Leaning in â Intimacy. Interest. Or subtle manipulation. (You matter to me. Iâm listening. Letâs get closer.)
â° Touch
This is intimacy in all its forms, comforting, protective, romantic, or invasive.
Hugging â Doesnât always mean closeness. Could be a goodbye. Could be an apology they canât say out loud. Could be awkward as hell.
Handshake â Stiff or crushing or slippery. How someone shakes hands says more than their words do.
Back patting â Casual warmth. Bro culture. Awkward emotional support when someone doesnât know how to comfort but wants to try.
Clenched fists â Holding something in. Rage, tears, restraint. Fists mean tension that needs somewhere to go.
Hair tuck â Sure, flirtation or nerves. But also a subtle shield. A way to hide. A habit from childhood when someone didnât want to be seen.
â° Mirroring:
If two characters start syncing their body language, something is happening. Empathy. Chemistry. Shared grief. If someone shifts their body when the other does? Take notice. Other human bits that say everything without words...
Nodding â Not just yes. Could be an âI hear you,â even if they donât agree. Could be the âkeep goingâ nod. Could be patronizing if done too slow.
Crossed legs â Chill. Casual. Or closed-off, depending on context. Especially if their arms are crossed too.
Finger tapping â Time is ticking. Brain is pacing. Somethingâs coming.
Hand to chest â Sincerity, yes. But also shock. Or groundingâa subconscious attempt to stay present when everything feels like too much.
Tilting the head â Curiosity. Playfulness. Or someone listening so hard they forget to hide it.
Temple rub â âI canât deal.â Could be physical pain. Could be stress. Could be emotional overload in disguise.
Chin stroking â Your classic âIâm judging you politely.â Often used in arguments between characters pretending to be calm.
Hands behind the back â Authority. Control. Or rigid fear masked as control.
Leaning body â This is the body betraying the brain. A tilt toward someone means they careâeven if their words are cold.
Nail biting â Classic anxiety. But also habit. Something learned. Sometimes people bite because thatâs how they self-soothe.
Squinting â Focusing. Doubting. Suspicion without confrontation.
Shifting weight â Uncomfortable. Unsure. Someone who wants to leave but doesnât.
Covering the mouth â Guilt. Hesitation. The âshould I say this?â moment before something big drops.
Body language is more honest than dialogue.
If you really want to show your characterâs internal world, donât just give them lines. Give them a hand that wonât stop shaking. Give them a foot that wonât stop bouncing. Give them a mouth that smiles when their eyes donât. And if youâre not sure what your character would do in a moment of fear, or love, or heartbreak, try acting it out yourself. Seriously. Get weird. Feel what your body does. Then write that down.
like many other modern warfare fic enjoyers I have not played mw... or any cod lol bc I suck at fps games. I have only watched breakdowns of the og & play thrus of the reboot
but I looked thru my ps4 games and turns out I have ghosts & infinite warfare. I didn't know it was there as my ex was a trashman for a rich neighborhood & brought home so many games, movies, etc. all kinds of great stuff
so I put in ghosts since it released first & there's a dog!..... but it seems something is wrong with the disk & it won't play. ok whatever I'll just try infinite warfare.....and this is the game destiny alright
guess I'm just not destined to play codäšâ (â  â â˘â _â â˘â  â )â ă
along with halo 4 for 360 and dragon's crown for ps3 lol
no clue on where the actual b4 is which is fine bc I was just gonna trade it for cod mw at gamestop which is $5 compared to ps store $20 (on sale from $60! ridiculous)
here's hoping iw disk doesn't let me down like ghosts
