Making BSD Men Climax From Making Out With You

Y'all ever think about how Gale has daddy issues?

Y'all ever think about how Gale is very close to his mother?

Y'all ever think about how Gale deeply admires and respects his mother?

Y'all ever think about how Gale and Tara only talk about his mother, and not his father?

Y'all ever think about how the way Gale's father is seemingly, purposefully, never specifically mentioned implies that he walked out on Gale and Morena when Gale was young?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster was a young Gale's replacement father figure? (Gale was 8)

Y'all ever think about how Elminster, hopefully unintentionally, primed Gale for Mystra's grooming/abuse?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster used to be Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about how Gale was also Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about the fact that Gale knows Elminster used to be Mystra's lover?

Y'all ever think about how it was Elminster who told Gale that their ex-lover, and their literal goddess, wanted him to kill himself?

Y'all ever think about how the way Elminster told Gale their ex wanted him to kill himself was the Faerun equivalent of a video call?

Y'all ever think about how Elminster couldn't even be assed to deliver the "request" to Gale in person? (He used a simuclarion? Idk how to spell it, basically a shadow clone)

Y'all ever think about how Gale has never had a stable, healthy, normal, loving, relationship with a father figure?

Y'all ever think about how deeply and intensely Gale feels his emotions and feelings?

Y'all ever think about how Gale says he thinks he'd make a horrible father?

Y'all ever think about why Gale thinks that he wouldn't be a good father?

Y'all ever speculate on how Gale's reluctance to see himself in a paternal role might have something to do with everything mentioned above?

Because I do.

God I'm a sucker for characters who are so utterly loyal to someone that they're completely unhinged. Characters who have no moral compass except their overwhelming devotion to whoever they've chosen to listen to. That's the good shit

Fluffy Hizashi Yamada HCs

Idk I just needed it T^T

Media and characters not mine. 

He insists that you play with his hair if you’re cuddling. He’ll nudge against you like a cat when you stop, looking up at you with big, pleading eyes until you start up again.

One of his fondest memories is explaining his tattoos as you lay beside him, tracing each piece delicately with your fingers. He couldn’t hold back tears when you said the tattoo for Shirakumo was your favorite (Before he even told you what it meant). If you ever ask, he’ll tell you that’s the moment he fell in love with you.

Hizashi loves western food. When you cook him fried chicken and mashed potatoes you can practically see hearts in his eyes. His favorite thing cook is pancakes. And yes, he makes faces with the fruit and butter.

When hero work knocks him down you’re the only one he wants to see. Despite his extroverted nature, he shuts down when life becomes overwhelming. At times like that, he wants you to hold him from behind, whispering encouragement while you soothe him. 

Holidays, birthdays and anniversaries are HUGE for the hero. He goes all out to ensure you have the best day possible. Even when you return the favor, he seems to enjoy your reactions more than anything. Ironically, his reactions to your reactions are the best part for you. Dorks. 

Hizashi plays the fuck out of multiple instruments, but he woos you with the violin and piano every chance he gets.

He loves it when you’re feeling clingy. Attach to him at the hip while he moves around the house. If he has to work on the computer and you need attention, he’ll sit you on his lap and let you rest your chin on his shoulder, giving you soft kisses to the neck as you coo for him. 

Coolest date with Hizashi? He took you to the Grand Canyon and screamed “I LOVE (Y/N)” into it. When you blushed and giggled at the way his quirk echoed off the rocks he practically melted inside. He’s so damn embarrassing, and you love every second of it. 

@cherrycolabomb​ @practisewhatyoupeach​ @thewheezingwyvern​ @the-angriestpineapple​ @queensynderella​ @deadassqueeraf​

i think the hottest look you can give someone after they commit acts of unspeakable violence is approval. like don't get me wrong if there's lust there too that's great, but staring at someone with gore dripping down their chin and coating their hands to the wrists with undisguised appraisal and admiration. maybe giving them a little nod as if to say 'well done'. THAT'S what says "yeah we're gonna fuck nasty later".

Can you do a Smut Karl fic with female reader as Ethan Focused on the part that Karl proposes to Ethan an alliance but with the reader accepting it?

I really like your writing and I think you would do it really well ^^

Oh god, oh jeez, first ask for exclusively NSFW--

2 things: one, there's going to be a little bit of buildup before the "good bits", because I wound up writing a whole-ass fic, and two I have never written a whole-ass fic like this before. Let me know if you like it, I would be more than happy to re-do with bullets if you prefer!

TW: NSFW (Meaning 18+), female reader, Reader is Sassy, rewriting the Heisenberg confrontation, and Heisenberg is a little smitten already, also crazy long post. As In 3259 words total.

Let me know If I miss anything, so I can add it to the list above. NSFW newbie (read: I've got no idea what I'm doing), so I don't know what/how to tag. Enjoy!

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"Truth Hurts, don't it?"

You spin around, coming face to face with the man who's been harassing you for the past few hours.

You kiss your teeth and say nothing.

Karl Heisenberg, the last Lord in your way, doesn't seem to mind your lack of response. Instead, he grins, like your reaction pleases him.

He takes a drag of his cigar. "You think that you can just take me out like the others and then you get to go and save Rose, right?"

It's like he's implying that you can't, and after the day you've had it lights a fire in your stomach.

"She's just a baby," Your voice shakes with barely suppressed rage. "She doesn't deserve any of this. I won't let it happen."

"Easy there, Buttercup," Heisenberg takes a couple steps closer to you, exhaling a cloud of cigar smoke that drifts out from underneath his hat. He smiles like he's about to sell you something, and it puts you on edge. "You've got this all wrong. I--"

There's the sound of a revving engine and your anger fades as you ready yourself for a confrontation, unholstering your gun and looking for the source of the noise. Heisenberg swears, glancing between you and a grate on the floor, before stalking over to it and wrenching it open.

"Shut your fucking hole!" he yells, and the engine makes a stalling sound before cutting out completely. He slams the grate shut, and you take advantage of his distraction to reload your magnum. You don't want to run out of bullets if this encounter goes...south.

There's an awkward pause in the new silence before Heisenberg speaks up again.

"Sorry about that," he mutters. The apology comes off as weirdly genuine.

Before you can stop yourself, a laugh bubbles out of your throat, "Oh, just for that?"

For a split second, you think you've made a massive misstep, because Heisenberg takes a few quick steps in your direction, pointing a hand at you like he's going to get in your face--

Then he stops short, so close that his face is less than a foot away from yours. He lowers his hand, takes a deep breath, and works his jaw for a couple seconds like he's getting his thoughts together. His expression--weirdly enough--settles into a smile.

"I'm a little out of practice for apologies, Buttercup. But you're alive right now because you proved yourself. Which means, you're an asset. I'd take the win if I were you."

You might have been intimidated if that didn't just push every annoyance button in your soul. The anger that you just managed to suppress simmers a little higher as you search his face, hoping to get a read on what the hell this asshole might have been thinking. Unfortunately, the dark glasses obscuring his eyes do too good of a job at hiding any emotions other than what's painted on his lips. He's a good looking man, with an excellent poker face. All you can register is his amusement.

Frustrated, you can't resist rolling your eyes. "Oh, so I'm supposed to be grateful that you had me chased by lycans and forced through a meat grinder?"

His smile widens at the words 'meat grinder'. "It stopped before it killed you, didn't it?"

"Spare me. Like you had anything to do with that."

Heisenberg's smile drops.

Shrapnel and spare metal suddenly whirls off the floor in a tornado of blades, the grates on the floor rattle and the furniture around you twists through the air. One of the sharper pieces of metal whips through the air and presses a dull edge to your throat. Pipes start to creak, door frames warp in place and through all the chaos Heisenberg glowers down at you.

"You have no idea what I can do," he snarls.

Apparently your sense of self-preservation has been irreparably damaged after your experience today, because you ignore the shrapnel at your neck and laugh again, inching your head close enough that your nose nearly brushes against his. "Now, now, handsome," you coo, sweet and teasing and low, "you're supposed buy me dinner first!"

You only say it to throw him off his game, to be condescending and rude and to show you're not afraid of him...But. But. But.

Heisenberg wets his lower lip with a quick swipe of his tongue.

A noise too soft to be a growl rumbles through the air, and the sound is so deep you can feel it in your bones despite the distance between you. He tilts his head ever so slightly--causing the tip of his nose to brush against yours so quickly you think you've imagined it--and exhales a long hot breath in you face, just over your mouth.

Then with a loud clatter, the metal in the room drops back to the floor.

Heisenberg takes a step back.

Your brain short circuits. What the hell.

Heisenberg chuckles thinly, filling the silence between you both, then takes another drag from his cigar. "Fair enough, Buttercup. But, uh, let's save dinner till after we talk business."

With a flick of his wrist, a metal chair skids across the room to screech to a stop right next to you.

"Have a seat," He gestures theatrically to the chair, and you slip past him, making a point to drag your gaze ever so slowly from his feet, up his legs, lingering on his muscular chest before resting on his face.

It's meant to be an 'I'm watching you' gesture--and a callback to your attempt at an insulting flirtation--which is why you're surprised when he averts his gaze and clears his throat.

Heisenberg stalks over to the cork-board.

You oblige your "host" and sit, but decide to keep your gun out. When he turns to face you again, you flick the safety off the magnum and prop it on your knee, the barrel pointed directly at him.

You see him raise an eyebrow over his glasses. "Is that really necessary?"

You smile pleasantly at him and bat your eyelashes. "Oh I couldn't possibly say. Why don't you tell me?"

"Cute," Heisenberg lifts a finger, and the safety clicks back on. You scowl. "But I am trying to build a little trust here, Buttercup. A good partnership takes trust from both sides."

You blink, stunned. "Partners."

So he was trying to sell you something.

"Partners," he repeats back with a sharp grin. His smile is dangerous, but the adrenaline that's been powering your every action since you got to this little slice of Hell makes you focus on the curve of his lip and the sharpness of his canines.

You shift in your seat and take a long, slow breath. There's a heat curling in your abdomen that makes you cross your legs and force yourself to refocus. You really shouldn't have flirted with him-- it's clearly made your brain misfire in all the worst ways. Now was really not the time.

Thankfully the man across from you interprets your silence as permission to continue.

"Listen, Buttercup, you're being played," Heisenberg drops his cigar to the floor and stamps it out. "Miranda's got you so focused on Rose you're missing the bigger picture here."

Your eyes narrow, then dart over to the gilded photograph of the strange hell angel who had sentenced you to death when you first arrived. There's red string branching out from the photo like legs on a spider, and it loops around pins across the cork board to make an unsettling web. There's a lot of thought put into it's assembly.

Getting you here, setting up this whole scenario, with props and photos and pages of research, would be the world's most pointless, complicated double cross. Heisenberg clearly believes what he's telling you is the truth.

So.

"Tell me what I'm missing, then."

Lord Heisenberg's smile gets this manic tilt to it. "You're being tested. It's something Miranda likes to do, you see. Experiment," he spits out the word with earned resentment. "She wants to see if you're strong enough to be a part of her little family."

The words "Oh Hell No" come out of your mouth before you even process them.

Heisenberg laughs, long and loud. "I knew I would like you! Y'see, I'm of the same opinion," He makes his way over to you with slow, measured steps. "She's been using you as her glorified cleanup crew, starting from the bottom and making you move right up the chain! So I figure, why not give the lady a choice?"

There's a little thrill that jumps through you the closer he gets, and you need to shut that down fast. And babies have a remarkable way of killing the mood. "How does Rose come in?"

Heisenberg snorts, "Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda is scared of her."

He then takes off his glasses, allowing you to finally get a good look at his eyes. Steel Blue--and they're unwarveringly, unflinchingly focused on you.

"You and me? We go save Rose, and then we can use her, to grind Miranda into paste," his hisses with relish.

Your eyes once again dart between the conspiracy theory board and the man who put it together. There's this edge to him that's almost... desperate. Hungry.

Finally, you gather your thoughts enough to speak. "If we're going to be partners, we can't use Rose like that."

Heisenberg's eyes flicker, and he straightens up slightly. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"

You stand up and put your free hand on your hip. "It means Rose is a goddamn baby, not a weapon. Considering the fact that I already took out the rest of your family without her, I'd say you and I have a pretty good shot at this, without stooping to Miranda's level."

"Not that I don't appreciate a gun and a can-do attitude, but Miranda's more powerful than you think--"

"Heisenberg," you taste the name on your tongue slowly, and stop kidding yourself--you're hit with a punch of lust when his pupils visibly dilate at your call. "I have the number of a strike team that was specifically created to eliminate and contain biohazards. We could probably just nuke her, if you want to play it that way."

The Last Lord looks at you like you've gifted him the greatest possible visual he could have ever conceived. "I do believe that would solve the problem," he beams so bright you could swear his eyes start to glitter under the brim of his hat.

"Then do I have your word that we leave Rose out of it?"

Heisenberg steps into your personal space yet again, but this time you feel the hairs on your arms stand on end. It's like his excitement has charged the air around you with static. You immediately refocus when he holds out a hand for you to shake.

"It's a done deal, Buttercup."

Sliding your gun back into it's holster, you extend your hand to grasp his.

In a moment like this, after sealing a deal, you would expect a quick shake before getting down to more official business. Instead, the both of you are caught in the moment--relief and anticipation and a twist in your belly that's making your blood run hot. Heisenberg doesn't seem to be too eager to break the silence either, and though you pick up satisfaction in his expression, the hungry glint in his gaze that you noticed earlier is still there...

...And he's not letting go of your hand.

In fact, his grip tightens on your fingers as he leans forward, pulled towards you like you've become a gravitational force. His eyes are half lidded as he looks down at you, greedily taking in everything that he sees.

"To killing Mother Miranda," He murmurs, his face close enough that you could count his eyelashes, "before she destroys any more fucking lives," he growls.

"God, she's such a bitch," you breathe.

Heisenberg lunges forward to kiss you so hard you feel his teeth collide with yours.

Your self control snaps and you pull him even closer. Your hands scramble up his back, under his jacket, digging into his shirt hard enough to tear the flimsy fabric. Tilting your head, you part your lips and allow him access, and he immediately takes it as an invitation to run his tongue against yours, groaning so deeply you feel the sound in your own lungs. It's like you're trying to devour each other. Somehow you stumble backwards, pulling Heisenberg with you until he's the one actively pressing you into the wall. His thigh slips between your legs, and the friction is enough to make you moan. He finally breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

His eyes are glued to yours, and his breath is hot and fast in the space between you. "If you want to stop, it's got to be now," he warns. "I'm not the kind of man who can easily stop once I get what I want--"

Impatiently, you cut him off by grinding down on his thigh, "If you don't hurry up I'm doing this myself."

He chokes on an inhale at the sight before him before finally finding his voice, "You're something else, you know that?"

"We're Partners now," your voice wavers when you hit just the right spot, eyelids fluttering from the sensation. "I-I'm sure you'll get used to it."

"Fuck's sake," is all he says, forcing his mouth back over yours.

You dip your hands to your waist and pull your pants down over your hips while Heisenberg does the same, neither of you breaking the kiss. You only part briefly to shake them off your legs. Heisenberg doesn't bother with his, instead occupying himself with leveraging you against the wall and hooking your knees up and over his hips.

"Shirt off," he growls. You hastily comply, and your new partner wastes no time dipping his head to your collar bone to press his lips to your pulse point. Your heartbeat jumps and Heisenberg smiles into your skin.

His kisses turn into little love bites along your collarbone and dipping down between your breasts, occasionally sucking a hickey into spots that make you hold back little whines and gasps.

It's too much. It's not enough. Your hips cant forwards against his hard on, making him gasp instead, and he pulls back enough that you finally see what you're working with. His cock is thick and long, and he's apparently worked up enough that the tip is already dripping.

You reach up to tug the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to make eye contact with you again as you use your other hand to gently work yourself onto his dick. He's big enough that there's a stretch despite how wet you are, and you bite your lips to hold back a whine, but it's entirely worth it. The face he makes is perfection--a furrowed brow with pupils blown wide and swollen lips parted. It's an extremely satisfying expression to see on the Lord of the Factory.

You both pause, just taking in the new feeling, but eventually the sensation starts to get to you. You clench your walls down around him and he hisses, glaring at you halfheartedly. "Come on now."

You snicker. "I'm trying to."

Karl snorts. Then he snaps his hips into yours and it cuts through your laughter.

"Fuck," you gasp in surprise.

"I'm trying to," he mocks back.

It's annoying as hell, but you can't be mad when he starts to fuck you in earnest, his cock sliding into you deep and hard.

Time feels like it's running in slow motion, and you try to match his thrusts, swiveling your hips to drag out the sensation. Eventually the two of you hit a rhythm that has you both sighing in pleasure--Long steady strokes that make your thighs clamp down on his hips.

It's still not enough. You're starting to get desperate. You move your free hand down to where your bodies connect, your finger slipping past your lips and just far enough inside that you can feel yourself take every stroke. It's full and tight and good enough that your brain is going numb.

Heisenberg is equally appreciative, groaning while biting down so hard on your shoulder that you know it's going to bruise black.

You moan in response, moving your attention to your clit and trying to chase the feeling higher. You just manage to catch the right rhythm when Karl lets go of one of your legs to force your hand away.

Just as you're about to let out a noise of protest he cuts you off with a swift kiss. When he pulls away, his smile is dark enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"None of that now, Buttercup. Either you let me do it, or it's not happening at all," he says.

You curse but wrap your arms around his neck, wordlessly letting him do what he wants. You're rewarded when a calloused thumb starts to rub circles into your already sensitive clit, and the rough texture paired with the steady tempo makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

"Fuck, fuck, just look at you," Heisenberg sounds almost drunk as he gasps out the words, hiking your legs even higher on his hips. The shift in angle makes you let out a soft whine, and your head thumps back into the wall. "How am I supposed to take my eyes off you, huh? Making a face like that."

Your mouth falls open, but words don't come.

Heisenberg snarls, pressing you even harder against the wall. With every thrust you're pounded back hard enough that the cement starts to scratch you up through your shirt. His head drops to your neck, and you can feel his lips shift against your skin before your ears actually pick up what he's saying.

"--You an' me, Buttercup, just you an' me, and we're gonna get our fuckin' dues--"

He's babbling, practically feral as he ruts into you, and you can barely hold it together. Your walls start to flutter and you know what's coming, but just as you think to warn him, he pulls out of you almost completely, and then slams back in.

You see stars.

It only takes a few more thrusts before your pleasure peaks like a flash of electricity, and you cum with a cry. Karl follows you seconds after, groaning into your neck and continuing to grind into you, working through the aftershocks.

It takes a while for your your thoughts to get coherent again, but there's no rush. Heisenberg keeps you pressed into the wall, leaning his forehead against yours and using his free hand to rub circles into your hip bone. The quiet is soothing, and it's the safest you've felt all day.

As you both take in the afterglow, there's another rumble of an engine from the grate in the floor.

Heisenberg sighs, and lifts his hand. The grate lifts, and with a twist of his wrist a hammer from the worktable flies down the shaft. There's a loud clang, and then the saddest little whirring noise you've ever heard.

Catching your breath, you meet his gaze, "That happen often?"

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Don't you worry now, Partner. You'll get used to it."

I actually think it's cool and sexy of humans to be so intrinsically social that we bond with fake people we will never meet like I think that's really cute and a side effect of a highly adaptive trait and not at all pathological

The feminine urge to be fucked stupid by a bulky, dominant and protective fictional man with big tits.

not now kitten, daddy has to write strange self indulgent fan fiction.

Honestly? Grinding with clothes on is one of my biggest turn-ons. The desperation, feeling wanted, like god if only my clothes weren’t here. Feeling his bulge. Holy shit I cant.

Forbidden Fruit

Word Count: 1k

Commission for: @proscetta

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader

Warnings: Noncon, Somnophilia, Third-year student reader, Daddy kink

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