devotedlysizzlingkitty

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

please please please i am BEGGING for extremely dominant and possessive vessel

bonus points for any facefucking, choking, edging, restraining the reader. maybe a lil of him getting off on seeing them cry. but of degradation and a lot of praise and dirty talk thrown in for good measure and i will owe u my entire life (i just KNOW this man has a mouth on him in the bedroom and he will use it in more ways than one)

Mine To Use ✶ Vessel x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, oral (m receiving), choking, degradation, edging, restraining, fingering, dacryphilia, mean! vessel

You’re really delivering with this ask anon and I’m here for it!!! Hope you enjoy :) thank you!! 🤍

!! mdni !!

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“I thought I told you to be ready for me when I got home.”

Vessels on you the second he walks through the door. He stalks up to you, grabbing ahold of your shirt collar and pulls you up to stand. You gasp in surprise as he roughly pulls you to your feet.

His hand closes around your throat, applying slight pressure. His thumb on your jaw turns your head to the side, his mouth moving in close to your ear. “What? Are you too dumb to follow instructions? Hm?” His teeth close over your earlobe.

You only let out a hum when his grip on your neck tightens, his other hand reaching behind you to roughly grope your ass. “Let’s see if this makes sense to you. On your knees. Now.” His hand pushes down on your neck.

You quickly drop to your knees, hands reaching up to massage his thighs. You so badly want to ask him why he’s in such a mood but you don’t want to push your luck by asking questions.

“Well look at that. You seem eager for my cock down your throat. Is that right?” His hand cups the side of your face, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You gaze up at him and nod. You open your mouth when his thumb pushes down harder and he runs the pad over your bottom teeth. You stick your tongue out to lick over his finger and watch as his jaw clenches.

His other hand grabs one of your own, dragging it up, placing it over his belt buckle. Your hands move quickly, unfastening the buckle and pulling it off of him completely. Your fingers hook into his waistband, tugging his pants down his hips. His hard cock springs free and Vessel snickers when he sees you swallow, your eyes watching it bob in front of your face. He grabs the base of his cock with one hand, the back of your neck with the other, keeping your head still. “Open.” You open your mouth and stick out your tongue. “Hm, what a good little whore. Hands behind your back. I don’t want you touching me.”

You want to pout at his words, your hands itching to wrap around him but you reluctantly clasp your hands behind your back. He grips the back of your neck tighter and lets the tip of his cock tap on your tongue. He slides his length over tongue into your open mouth, his hand moving to the top of your head. You let your lips close around him, sliding further down his length. He lets out a deep breath above you when your lips and tongue slide up to meet his tip, your tongue swirling around the head.

He lets you lick and suck all over his cock for a short while, just enjoying the warm of your mouth. His hips eventually start thrusting to meet your mouth halfway, the grip he has on your hair tightening. “Shit. Just want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours. You gonna let me?” Both his hands grip the sides of your face, keeping your head still as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. “Of course you are. Good cock slut.” He grunts, pushing your head forward. You moan at his words, cut short when you feel his cock slip into your throat. He keeps it there, shallow thrusts from his hips. You gag around him, eyes squeezing shut, your hands itching to grip his thighs, craving something to hold on to.

He pulls his cock from your mouth completely, a cough coming from you at the sudden movement. Vessel breathily chuckles, grabs his cock and runs it along your cheek, your saliva covering your face. You moan, breathless and dazed as you look up at him, sticking your tongue out again. He huffs and smirks before he’s back to thrusting into your waiting mouth. He pushes his thumb in, along side his cock, stretching your mouth open wider. “You see this?” He pulls his thumb away to show you the saliva coating his finger before smearing it across your cheek. “Is this your dumb bunny brain leaking out of your mouth? You’ve gone stupid on my cock, huh? Just a drooly little hole that’s all mine to use.” He uses his leg to nudge your clenched thighs open, his foot pushing up against your core.

You greedily grind your hips down on his covered foot, moans freely crawling up from your throat. Your hands clench harder behind your back, hips moving quickly and impatiently. “You like being called stupid, don’t you? Look at you.” He pushes the top of his foot up into you harder. His hips still thrusting fast into your mouth, faltering occasionally. “It’s almost pathetic. That you like being treated this.” His voice comes out in growl, his hips moving even faster, if that’s possible. He groans at the sound and feel of you gagging around him, his hands roughly pulling your head to him.

He grunts, jaw clenched, his hips stutter. “Gonna cum down your throat. You’re gonna take it all.” You let a deep breath out through your nose as you feel him release at the back of your throat. You watch him throw his head back, the muscles on his chest and stomach flexing. You gag around him again, his cock, cum and all the extra spit in your mouth becoming too much. He just stands there for a moment, catching his breath before he hums and looks down at you, slowly pulling his cock from your mouth, saliva dripping from your lips. You finally swallow and take in a deep breath.

Your hips still grind and bounce on his foot as you look up at him with needy and pleading eyes. Whiny whimpers falling from your mouth. “Can I please touch?” You plead out, biting over your bottom lip.

Vessel just stares down at you, his hand smoothing over your hair. “Go on.” He nods down at you. Your hands fly out to grip at his leg, fingertips digging into his thigh, your hips grinding down harder. You’re practically hugging his leg and he lets you, eyes watching you, full of amusement. He registers the high pitched moans you let out and the way the rhythm of your hips get sloppy before he’s prying your fingers off his thigh and removing his foot out from under you. You whine out at the loss of contact, your release having only been mere seconds away.

He pulls you up to stand, his hand latching around your neck, squeezing, his mouth attaching to your swollen lips. You groan when his tongue licks into your mouth, gripping his forearm. He pushes you with the hand on your throat, walking you backwards towards the bedroom, his mouth moving to kiss and lick on the side of your face. He pushes you on the mattress when the back of your knees hit the bed, crawling over you, his hand and mouth resuming their previous positions.

His other hand finds its way under your shirt to grope and squeeze on your chest. He rests his thigh between your own, your hips almost immediately bucking up against it. He kisses over your chin and jaw, groaning. “So needy.” You chase your release again, hips moving quickly over his leg, your hand gripping the back of his neck.

He pulls away from you completely, pushing himself up to stand and you cry out, hips moving against nothing now. He leaves the room without saying anything. You think about trailing your hand down to play with yourself while he’s gone but you already know you’re in for a long night. If he caught you, that’d surely only make things worse for yourself. Vessel returns, his belt in hand. “Hands up for me.” You put your wrists together in front of yourself.

He loops the belt around your wrists, pulling your arms over your head, fastening the other end of the belt to the headboard with a crude knot. “Such a good listener, aren’t you?” He straddles your thighs, leaning down to kiss you with surprising softness and warmth. His thumb strokes over your neck and throat before his hand wraps around it again, this time only applying minimal pressure. You pull at your restraints, just wanting to hold his face to yours.

His other hand slips between your legs, palming over you through your bottoms. Moaning at the contact, you feel like you could finish right then and there. His mouth pulls away from yours to watch your face, a small smile on his lips. His hand speeds up over you, applying more pressure, only to let up. Slow speed and teasing, light touches. His hand around your neck matches the pattern he’s created. Squeezing harder as his hand speeds up, releasing pressure as his hand slows down. You can’t register how long he keeps this up. He never keeps his hand moving quickly long enough for your pleasure to peak, not letting you get to the edge, just leaving you simmering.

He eventually pulls both hands from you, moving his head down to kiss all over your chest and stomach. He spends what feels like ten minutes on each nipple. Slowly licking, sucking them into his mouth, his teeth grazing over them occasionally. You’re a heavy breathing mess at this point, wrists aching from pulling at the leather wrapped around them.

“You’re being so good for me. So patient.” He tells you once he settles between your legs, his hands rubbing along your thighs. “Just waiting to make a mess, aren’t you?” You look down at him and eagerly nod, bucking your hips up. “Please.”

He just shrugs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your bottoms. “We’ll see.” His fingers tug your bottoms down over your hips and thighs. He lets you kick them down the rest of your legs before settling down again. His eyes trail over you, his mouth attaching to your inner thigh. “Look at you. You must be aching. It almost looks painful.” His lips move along your leg, his fingers reaching out to run over you.

He pins your hips to the bed with his forearm, his mouth now sucking purple marks onto your thighs. Your back arches when you feel his fingers on your opening, massaging in circles. You whimper and you feel Vessel smile on your skin. Two of his fingers slowly push into you, inching in knuckle by knuckle until they’re fully buried in you. You breathe out in fast, shallow breaths, wrists tugging, your hips desperately trying to move.

He brings his fingers all the way out of you before repeating the process. Massage, push into you, pull out and repeat. You’re too dazed to plead or beg, just glad you might actually get your release. His fingers speed up and your vision blurs. He adds a third finger, thrusting in and out of you steadily. You’re right on edge in no time, clenching around his fingers.

It frustrates you that you’re not even surprised when he pulls his fingers from you. That doesn’t stop the long string of whines and moans that leave your mouth. He lets your pleasure die down, just kissing along your thighs, before his hand is on you again, repeating the same torture as before.

It’s after the third time when you feel the tears come. A frustrated, overworked sob comes from you and Vessel’s head snaps up to look at you. He watches you as the first tear slips down your face. You can barely see him through your cloudy vision, but don’t miss the way his jaw clenches as he watches you. You drop your head down on the mattress when you feel his teeth close over the inside of your thigh. “Look at me.” He taps your hip. You look down at him, face covered in tears, eyes red.

He groans when he sees your face, his fingers pushing into you again, not even giving you a minute before he’s roughly thrusting them in and out of you. “So pretty when you cry. You know that?” He breathes out. You can see his hips grinding down on the mattress and it sends a shockwave through you. “I think I could come cum again just looking at you.” His jaw closes over your thigh again. “Tell me why you’re crying.”

His fingers pause slightly and curl inside you before moving again. Your bottom lip quivers as you speak, “You won’t let me cum. I just want to cum.” More tears slip down your face, hips bucking up impatiently.

He groans again, resting his head against your thigh, eyes still watching you. His fingers speed up along with his hips that are still sloppily bucking against the bed. Another cry leaves you when you teeter on the edge again, sure that he’ll pull away from you, but he doesn’t. Your mouth opens silently, hips spasming and bucking, all the sounds that were caught in your throat come tumbling out as you clench hard around his fingers. Waves of overwhelming pleasure roll over you. It almost feels like too much. Your thighs tremble as Vessel’s fingers work you through your climax, letting up only when your foot pushes against his shoulder, trying to move away from his hand.

You lay there, trying to catch your breath, hips still twitching. Steady tears fall now, your mind and body overrun with overwhelming emotion. You feel Vessel over you now, his hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You blink away enough tears to see his hand wrapped around himself, greedily pumping his cock. His thumb runs over your cheek, gathering the moisture there before dragging it down your neck. He has a look of total desperation on his face.

A gravely moan comes from him as he shuts his eyes, hanging his head. His hips falter before he cums again, ropes of it painting your stomach. His hips buck wildly into his hand as low groans fall from his mouth. Your mouth hangs open slightly as you watch him.

He opens his eyes to look at you, blissed out, his chest heaving. You want to reach out and touch him but you can’t. You impatiently tug on the belt.

His reaches above you to release your hands, his thumbs massaging over the slightly raw skin, his mouth coming down to leave small kisses on your wrists. His hand wipes over your cheeks before he bends down to leave a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and finally pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

He stumbles to stand before leaving the room. Returning shortly after with a wet rag and a bottle of water. You gladly accept the water, taking a long sip as he cleans you up. He lays next to you when he’s finished, hand coming up to brush away any remaining tears from your splotchy face before pulling you close to him.

You lay your head on his chest and close your eyes, feeling exhausted. “You feeling okay?” He rubs a hand down your back. You hum and nod your head, curling around him.

He’s sure you fall asleep the minute he pulls the covers over the two of you. He lays there listening to your heavy breathing for a long while before falling asleep himself.

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Anon, you went crazy with this ask. THANK YOU

Once again, the ending lowkey sucks but that’s okay.

Hope you enjoyed 🤍

K. Bye bye.

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Stage experience/ Vessel x reader

Summary: You just wanted to put a full water bottle under his keyboard during the gig.

Words: 914

You travel a lot with the band. At first it was just because you wanted to be close to your boyfriend Vessel to make sure he's okay while touring. But it quickly became clear that you were the go-to person for everything. You take care of some of their social media, do small tasks during set-up and make sure the guys feel comfortable.

This includes their performances. As always, you stand backstage and watch the stage from the side. Everything goes as planned, the show is perfect. Your boyfriend jumps across the stage like Bambi, fooling around with the others.

However, you notice from your position that his water bottle, which he has placed under the keyboard because of his strained voice recently, is almost empty. Which is not unusual considering the concert is already halfway through.

A low hum escapes you. You grab a full bottle and enter the stage without attracting attention. You sneak past behind II and his drums to Vessel's keyboard. You quickly place the new bottle of water to make your way off the stage unnoticed.

Well, not if Vessel has his way. He's spotted you. Like a predator, he's set his eyes on his prey and approaches you with long, graceful strides.

As you straighten up, you realise that your attempt to sneak on and off the stage unnoticed has failed. Vessel's attention is completely on you.

From the way he approaches you as if you were his everything, you can imagine that he's ready to flirt with you in front of the roaring crowd.

He won't kiss you on stage, you know that for sure. He would never reveal an insight into your relationship to the public. And definitely not a hint about his identity.

Your boyfriend gets closer and closer until he holds out his large hand, dipped in black body paint, for you to take.

You look at him a bit uncertain as you can see past him at the large crowd. He replies with a warm smile only you can see because his back faces the audience and wiggles his slender digits.

Eventually you grab his hand, and a roar fills the venue. Vessel guides your fingers to his lips before gently bending his torso in front of you as if asking for a dance.

A grin creeps onto your lips and before you realise it he's placed his hands on your hips and turned you around in his arms. A surprised noise escapes from your mouth.

You look ahead, into the sea of faces and phones eagerly filming the whole experience. Your breath catches. All eyes are on you and the charming man who looks like a god in his costume. He looms behind you, hovering like an intimidating guardian.

A low growl escapes him next to your ear that is only meant for you to hear. Vessel pulls your back closer to his bare, toned chest and allows his hands to roam gently over your sides. Finally, he snakes his arm around your waist. His free hand finds its way up to your chin. Gently guiding you, he tilts your head back until you rest your head against his broad shoulder.

He looks down at you and starts to sweep the pad of his thumb fondly along the curve of your lower lip. Which causes you to part your lips instinctively.

People scream excitedly in response and you want to turn your head towards them. To look at them. But you can't. Vessel holds your chin firmly yet gently between his fingers. You're trapped in his arms. Almost like before every show, when he won't let you go until the last possible second.

In the corner of your eye, you see III's slim figure and you can literally imagine his big grin under the mask.

Your gaze shifts back to Vessel, who now slowly slides his index finger down your throat. He brings his hands back to their original position on your hips and gives you another gentle squeeze. A silent thank you. Then he pulls away from you with an small smile in your direction and strides with swift, elegant steps to his mic to make sure he doesn't miss his turn.

For a moment, you stand perplexed in front of the keyboard. You watch as your boyfriend reverently holds the mic with one hand while singing and slowly slides his fingers up the microphone stand with the other.

Nobody pays attention to you anymore. Vessel holds the crowd spellbound, has them wrapped around his finger. And this fact alone impresses you. The ease with which he manages to attract the attention of the entire crowd.

The thought of what task you actually wanted to fulfil snaps you out of your thoughts. With a gentle smile on your lips, you head backstage, past II.

Behind the blind, you glance down on yourself. Black body paint sticks to your hands and clothes. And you're sure you've got some on your chin and throat too.

But you're used to it. Vessel's lack of patience would have left stains on you anyway. He just can't help but feel you before he showers the dirt and sweat from the show off his body.

You decide to enjoy the performance further and not to clean yourself now. He'll mark you as his again in his own way anyway.

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

♡ Let’s Fuck Her Up ♡

There’s nothing wrong with an innocent game of truth or dare among roommates…unless they’re two guys who seem to have massive crushes on you and each other.

Vessel x IV x F!Reader

Smut, M/M/F threesome, Bi!Token, praise, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, finger sucking, some spanking, reader is yanked around like a fleshlight, p in v (pretend we talked about birth control prior), and they were roommates

A/N: a ✨ beloved mutual ✨ once said “hey what about a truth or dare fic” and then I was struck by lightning in Best Buy with this idea. Also I took to just naming them Ves and Ivy in this for my mental health.

You’re laying on the couch. Mindlessly scrolling. Completely zoned out from whatever Ves and Ivy are talking about. 20 minutes ago it was all “yeah let’s go out oi oi” and all that but no one had any good ideas. Well. You did! But of course, the “boys club” always overruled you. You knew there were risks involved rooming with two guy best friends—either they treated you like a helpless little girl that needed defending and items retrieved from high spots or like you were the neighborhood girl their respective parents had guilted them into inviting. Suddenly, you hear your name and a snap.

“What?! Jesus.” You say rolling your eyes as Ivy tries to get your attention.

“I asked you something…”

“She’s checked out, man,” Ves says chuckling.

“Yeah yeah, fine. I’ll ask again. Truth or dare?” Ivy asks with his elbows on his knees as he leans forward on the loveseat across from you. Ves shakes his head and stifles a laugh, whispering “you wanker” in reference to Ivy’s mischievous grin.

You snort and decide to play along just to prove how stupid of an idea this is. How old are we?

“Fine. Truth.”

Ivy taps his chin as if he doesn’t already have a question in mind. “Which of us is the best looking?”

“Me. Easy.” You say straightfaced. It’s incredibly satisfying to watch Ivy’s shit-eating grin melt into a scowl. Ves pats him on the back as if to say “there there big guy.”

“Well…ok…but…” Ivy sputters.

“You actually disagree with her, Ivy?”

“What? No, I mean, come on…apples…apples and oranges mate.”

“So why’d you ask her? That’s literally the same question you asked her.” Ves asks with an exasperated laugh, flailing his arm a bit.

You’re watching them banter and the same suspicion creeps up in the back of your mind. There’s something more there. Maybe. The way they look at each other. The little nudges. That’s not just chemistry…that’s not just…being playful.

“Boys boys boys,” you interrupt. They both look at you. “Ves…truth or dare?”

The taller man blushes a little. Maybe he didn’t actually want to play this game and thought Ivy was being a prick. Maybe he just couldn’t believe you were playing along. He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. “Dare.”

You catch Ivy’s eye and realize you’re both chuckling at Ves’s willingness to take on a dare. A tiny moment. Another one of those times where you think, “is this something?”

“Alright…I dare you toooooo…hmm…read us your most recent sexts.” You laugh but the boys don’t. You expected Ves’s reaction—rolling his eyes and rubbing his temples—but you didn’t expect Ivy’s blush. Or him fidgeting a little. “Uhm…”

Ves shrugs. “I don’t sext.”

“Oh. Well…”

He snorts. “I’m fucking with you.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket as Ivy watches him with great interest. What is this? There has to be something going on. He unlocks his phone and scrolls a bit. “Ok…it says…” he scrolls some

more, “it says ‘you should have your lips around me instead.” And with that he locks the phone and puts it back in his pocket. He looks over at Ivy as if he’s sizing him up. You feel like you shouldn’t be here.

“Truth or Dare, Ive?”

Ivy rolls his eyes as if the game he decided they should play is the stupidest thing ever. “Truth, I guess.”

Ves responds immediately. “Tell her what you said about the last guy she brought over.”

Oop. Ivy’s eyebrows furrow, and you feel your stomach drop a bit. The last guy you had over was pretty sweet but didn’t seem quick to move forward. You still talk to him and go out sometime.

Ivy pinches the bridge of his nose and answers. He knows he needs to be a good sport for his own game.

“I said he was a loser.”

“And?”

Ivy groans. “And a simp.”

“What’s wrong with being a simp?” You ask with play seriousness.

“You need someone who doesn’t have to be pathetic to get your attention. Not some lost idiot.”

You laugh with a scoff. “Takes one to know one?”

Ivy throws a small pillow in your general direction and you toss it back when it falls near you. He dodges it and grabs the pillow Ves had been holding. He’s ready to start a pillow fight as you shriek and giggle as he comes toward you when Ves says “alright alright, Ivy it’s your turn.” Ivy lands a soft thump of the pillow against your side before sitting by Ves again.

“Fine. Sour puss. Alright princess, truth or dare?”

Your cheeks are still warm from the silliness and adrenaline. You gather your nerves and…

“Dare.”

Ivy nods and thinks for a second before looking back at Ves. Some unspoken boy conversation going on between them.

“Let us guess what color panties you have on. If neither of us can, you get bragging rights. If one of us guesses correctly…you have to prove it.”

Both men are looking at you like your word is law. They’re hanging on the edge on your every word. Waiting. Like good boys. Wait no stop that. You sigh and stand up, doing a little twirl. “Alright, do your worst.”

“Black” they both blurt out, straightfaced.

Fuck. You shouldn’t be surprised but here you are scoffing and rolling your eyes. You loop your thumbs under your shorts and pull them down enough to let them see your black boyshorts. “Congrats on guessing one of the most common underwear colors. Alright. Ivy. Truth or dare?”

“But it’s my turn!” Ves interjects.

“Dare.” Ivy snaps back calmly. The tension is building.

“Give Ves a little kiss.”

There’s a lengthy, heavy pause. Ivy huffs out a little laugh. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Ivy and Ves lean towards each other and you feel a pulse deep deep inside you. Ves crooks his finger under Ivy’s chin as their lips meet. Seconds feel like an eternity. Ivy cups Ves’s face and gently caresses the taller man’s cheekbone with his thump. Your breath catches in uncomfortable shock but your synapses are firing like crazy. They’ve done this before. And it’s so hot. It is so clear just how into each other they are as one kiss ends and Ivy immediately initiates another. At one point Ves gently bites Ivy’s bottom lip, and Ivy chuckles as he pushes Ves back a little. Not out of disgust…but more like “not here, not now at least”

Ivy looks at you as he runs his fingers through his blonde hair and licks his lips. You barely register that you’ve actually slipped off your shorts while watching your roommates make out. “You cool doing a dare,” he asks, nodding up at you.

You nod wordlessly. Your breath is coming heavier.

“Good girl. I dare you…”

He looks at Ves but his eyes are taking in every single inch of your body. Ivy lets out a dry chuckle and looks back to saying, “I dare you to sit in Ves’s lap.”

You look at Ves for some kind of reassurance or “gotcha” reaction, but instead he beckons you forward and pats his lap. As if in a trance you walk towards him and shyly straddle his lap. His hands gently tug you by the hips.

“There she is…” Ves whispers as he looks up at you and moves your hair off your shoulders. Ivy scoots closer and puts his arm around Ves.

“Look at her on your thighs…” Ivy says without breaking his gaze from your body.

“I know. Like an angel.”

“Mm like a queen.”

“Ah…yeah…a queen. On her throne. Aren’t you?”

You know you look dumb right now because you feel dumb. “Wha-…”

They both giggle at your adorable confusion. Ivy starts toying with the strap of your tank top as Ves kneads your hips and love handles. Ves lets his head rest back on the couch as his hands go under your shirt.

“Is it ok if he does that, babes” Ivy asks softly as he brushes your hair behind your ears before pulling down your tank strap.

You nod, “…yeah. I…I like it.”

“Good. I do, too” Ves says as he lifts your shirt a little. You instinctively suck in your stomach but both guys protest. Ivy caresses your tummy with his fingertips and hums happily. “She’s too cute,” Ves says as he lets one of his hands drift up to cup your face. His thumb rubs over your lips, and your tongue pokes out to touch it. You taste his skin as his long thumb presses past your lips. You let out a small moan which elicits reverent coos and sighs from the guys.

“You like how he tastes, princess?” Ivy asks as his hands smooth over your back and ass. He leans close to your ear… “you should really try his cock. If you like his thumb that much…” he plants tiny kisses on your neck… “then imagine how wet you’ll get when you’re deep throating him.”

You moan and move your head to kiss Ivy. His plump lips press against you in the most delicious yet agonizingly tender way. Ves moans as he watches and circles your nipple under your tank with his thumb…still wet from playing with your tongue. Ivy palms your other breast through your tank top as you grasp at his thick, delicious body. He moans gently and relishes in finally…finally kissing you. You’ve always thought he was sweet and gentle. Listening to you vent, ruffling your hair when you’re being silly or even when he’s proud. So kissing him was like coming home. A hug.

Ves’s free hand trails up Ivy’s chest and rests at his neck. You pull away reluctantly from your friend’s lips…only to lean down and kiss your other friend.

If kissing Ivy was tender and soft, kissing Ves was frantic and needy. Between the two of them, you’ve felt the most sexual tension with Ves. You often end up spending a lot of alone time together. Just scrolling or watching something mindless. It’s not that you don’t talk…it’s comfortable silence. And glances. So many stolen glances. But now he’s holding your hips tight and pressing you against his toned body like you might disappear. Ivy groans softly as he watches you two, his lovers.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she, babe?” Ivy whispers to Ves as you feel your shirt being going over your head.

Ves pulls back from the kiss to get your shirt off and bites his lip as he ogles your chest. “Like fucking sugar,” he says breathlessly. He pulls you close and licks a long line up up your chest, making you moan with your head back. Ivy turns your face to him and nuzzles your nose with his as Ves starts kissing and sucking at your tits.

“Ivy…mm..please…” you whimper…willing him to touch you.

“Use your words, sugar,” Ves growls, “tell Ivy what you want. You’ll love it…he’ll make you feel so good.”

Ivy chuckles as you tug at his hand. “Touch me…please…I need you…” you groan… “take care of me.”

Both Ves and Ivy make cute satisfied little sounds as Ivy’s thick fingers slide under your boyshorts. You gasp as he finds your clit and blush with embarrassment at just how good it feels to have him touch you as Ves sucks your nipples. Your fingers tangle in Ves’s hair and your teeth clench as Ivy moves to trace your slit. You sit up a little to give him more room but the angle is weird…and you’ve never had two men pawing at you before. You’ve never been shared. The pad of Ivy’s middle finger playfully taps at your entrance. This whole time he’s been kissing and nipping at your neck but now he moves his lips to your ear.

“You’re a needy girl, aren’t you? You like doing this, hm? Being in the center of attention?” He whispers as he ghosts over your clit again. You whimper as he pulls his coated fingers from your folds. “Fuck she’s hot. Ves…”

Ves briefly looks up and quickly pulls away from your breast when Ivy offers him his finger. You watch as Ivy traces his finger around Ves’s lips before Ves takes the finger into his mouth. He takes a sharp breath and moans as he holds Ivy’s hand steady as your essence off him. God you want to just stare. Seeing the way Ves looks up with eager eyes and the way Ivy just lets him clean his fingers breaks your brain. You feel like a chained up bitch in heat. You want to play. You want to be your normal, slutty enthusiastic self…to show them what you can do…how you can make them feel. But you feel intimidated. Sensing your discomfort, Ves pulls you close. When he disengages from Ivy’s hand, he buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent and biting you gently.

“It’s a bit much, yeah? A lot to take in,” Ves says softly as he trails kisses on your collarbone. “Do you want to keep going?”

You can barely think. On one hand you have no idea what this means for the dynamic afterwards, on the other…if you don’t cum tonight you might actually combust. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

You feel Ivy pulling you off Ves’s lap and against his nude torso. You were so wrapped up in Ves marking you that you didn’t hear Ivy get undressed. He pulls you down to the floor and lays you down. You look up and see Ves slipping off his tshirt before laying beside you.

“He’s going to take such good care of you, sugar,” Ves says almost teasingly as he kisses your temple. “You’re gonna cum all over Ivy’s fingers and pretty face.”

Ves’s hand slides down to your now bare pussy and gently circles your clit before carefully spreading your lips to give Ivy better access.

“Fuck…Ves…”

“Ah Ves you should see how her pussy clenches when you touch her. Fuck you’re getting her ready for me” Ivy says right against your clit. He flicks his tongue sharply against it, making you jolt. Ves responds by kissing your cheeks and cooing words of praise.

“Yeah he’s good with his tongue, huh, babygirl? Do you like what he’s doing?”

You feel your pussy quiver against Ivy’s face as he alternates between licking and sucking your clit. Ivy reaches up to play with your tits. Ves caresses Ivy’s arm as your nipple is lightly pinched. You moan and try to lift your head to kiss Ves…or get his attention at least. His eyes are glued to your slick cunt and the gorgeous man eating it out. Ivy must be looking back because you see Ves blow a little kiss before he turns his attention to you. You reach up to him and finally get to m pull him in for a sweet kiss. Ivy moans into your pussy and adds two fingers. As he rubs your sensitive bundle from the inside you break the kiss and moan against Ves’s lips.

“Ves…Ivy…I…I…don’t—“

Ivy stops when he hears this. Both men are concerned about you when you whimper like that. Ivy lays atop you, his still clothed bulge pressing against your hot cunt.

“I don’t…know how to cum unless I do it myself.” You say blushing profusely. “It’s not that easy for me to just…let go.”

Ves pets your hair as Ivy softly kisses your collarbone. “Then you call the shots, love. What do you need? What would you like?” Ivy asks softly before he gently teeths your ear lobe.

“I need to get fucked.”

Ivy and Ves share a pleasantly surprised look. They thought for sure you’d say you needed a breather but here you were asking to be dicked down by your two closest guy friends. Ves leans in to kiss Ivy before whispering “you’re already on top of her…you go first, handsome.”

Your pussy throbs watching them kiss right in front of you. Ivy cradles Ves’s face so tenderly you feel like you’re intruding, but you quickly feel apart of the moment when Ivy begins tracing lazy circles on your tummy. Ves’s kisses trail down Ivy’s cheek to his neck, and you take the opportunity to sit up. Shyly, you reach out and touch Ivy’s bulge through his shorts. He lets out a sharp moan as you stroke the length. It’s thick, and you can already imagine the stretch that would come from taking it completely. Ivy gently pushes your hand away.

“You’re too good at that, babe. Mm slow down.”

You chuckle softly and start kissing the other side of Ivy’s neck. He groans whinly. “Oh fuck you both…mm…‘snot fair.” Ves chuckles and moves his kisses to your cheeks. “Yeah there we go. Let’s pick on our girl” Ivy says as he dive bombs the other side of your neck. You squirm and moan as they both kiss, suck, and bite at your neck. Ves moves to you close to him as he lays back on the floor. You’re positioned like you’re going to ride him but you hear Ivy taking his shorts off behind you.

“Ivy’s going to fuck you now…yeah? Can you handle that for us, baby?”

You swallow hard and whimper as your feel the head of Ivy’s cock tease your entrance.

“She wants it, Ves. You should feel it.”

“Oh yeah,” Ves asks with a bemused expression as his unceremoniously reaches down and fingers you.” Mmm. Yeah…you are awfully wet…and you’re practically trying to suck my fingers in.”

Ves removes his fingers but you don’t feel empty for long. Ivy presses against your pussy and presses in with delicious restraint. He’s big and you’re tight. It’s been a little since you’ve been fucked from behind so it takes a second for you to regain some brain power after Ivy’s cock finally caresses your gspot. You feel yourself clench on him and a gentle spank.

“She’s gonna make me lose it, Ves. She’s so tight.”

“Mm yeah? She gonna milk you dry?”

You moan and try to relax but it’s hard when they talk about you like you’re not here. How they praise you and flirt with each other.

“If I’m not careful, yeah…she just might.” Ivy spanks you again. “You’re gonna love her Ves…well…love her more.”

Your brain feels fuzzy as you look down at Ves as holds your hips still for Ivy. Ivy starts rolling his hips into you…the stretch and friction is incredible. You feel like you’re on fire and itching an in impossible scratch.

“Mm. Such a good girl. We just love you…don’t we Ive?” Ves asks as he stares up at you. Ivy can’t answer the question directly.

“God…fuck…finally…finally…such a good girl…fucking love you, babygirl.”

You cry out as you press against Ivy for a deeper fuck. “I…love you…Ivy…fuck…aaahh GOD baby.” Your climax ripples through you as he keeps you in place for his boyfriend. “Fuck. FUCK. I love you both.”

Ivy’s breath hitches and he grabs for Ves’s hand. Ves looks up at you sweetly and says, “Ivy’s gonna cum inside you. Ok? Such a good girl to take his cum. And then…I’m going to fuck his cum and my cum so deep in you that you won’t sit right tomorrow. And we’ll have to take care of you…sweet princess. Someone will have to kiss that pretty pussy better when we’re done. Would you like that? For your boys to take care of you and pamper you all day? All the fingers and cocks and…”

“Shut up Ves…I’m not gonna last long if you don’t…fuck…hnng.” Ivy desperately fucks into you. He’s holding back, you can tell. The pace is measured and careful…and so fucking hot. Ves winks and flashes a wicked grin.

“I’m just having a conversation with our girl. That’s all…” Ves starts moves hands to your breasts and presses hot, wet kisses on each one. You feel another orgasm clench Ivy’s cock.

“Ivy! You’re so….fucking big….” You cry out as you become overstimulated.

“Nah baby…fuck…fuck…you’re fucking right…god Ves, she’s so tight. You’re gonna love it….”

“Ivy cum for me…please,” you beg. Your confidence is growing, and since Ves isn’t holding your hips anymore, you fuck Ivy right back. You feel his wide hand press into the middle of your back, making you fall against Ves. Ivy cries out your name and moans out in whines as he coats your womb with his cum. Your pussy clenches hard like it’s desperate for more.

Ves breathes heavily after holding you as Ivy fucked you and made you his for the moment. “I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he says pathetically. “You two are so hot together.”

Ivy pulls out of you and comes to your side. You two share a deep kiss and stare into each others eyes for a bit.

“You’re so good,” you whisper to him.

“That’s you, girl.” He gives him a quick kiss. “Now let’s play with Ves.” Ivy pats you to get off Ves and he tells Ves to sit on the couch. Ves obeys and takes off his sweats. His cock is hard and twitching for both of you. He sits on the couch, and you straddle him once again. Ivy guides your hips and sets you down on Ves’s cock…slowly…slowly…slowly…

You moan and whimper as you’re stretched once again. Ivy was definitely thicker, but Ves had length and a slight bend that felt so yummy inside you.

“Fffuuuuccckk…Ves…baby…” your voice is barely coming out.

“Move her,” Ves whispers to Ivy as he plays with your nipples.

“Alright…work with me, babygirl, yeah? You want him to bust for your pussy?” Ivy whispers huskily from behind you as he starts to move your hips up and down. He has you bouncing on Ves’s cock…he’s in control. Ves’s fingers press roughly into your plush hips so hard you can feel the bruises blossoming.

“God you’re so perfect…such a fucking queen…” Ves whispers as he pulls you close for warm, desperate kisses. “Ivy…Ivy…I need to fuck her.”

Ivy lets go of your hips, and Ves immediately repositions so he can fuck up into you. Ivy has to cover your mouth as the most obscene moans and whimpers leave your pretty lips.

“You’re gonna be mine, too, baby. You’re gonna be so full from me and Ivy. So much love in your pussy…such a good…fucking…fuck….FUCK.” Ves cums inside you and keeps fucking through his climax. You both and breathing heavily…like you might hyperventilate. Ivy helps you off Ves’s lap and sits you on the couch between them. Ivy clings to your back as Ves moves to hug you. You turn your head as the two men press needy kisses on you, letting it become a slow, sensual kiss between the three of you.

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Day 3 of Kinktober 2024

"Such a brat"

Dead by Daylight Pairings: Evan MacMilian | The Trapper X GN!Reader Rating: M | Mature | NSFW 18+ MDNI Word count: 1.3k+ CW: CNC, negotiated kink, Reader gets blue balled Summary: It's that time of year and your normally sweet boyfriend isn't feeling quite himself. Prompt: CNC | “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” Ao3

The Trapper was a blighted monster at this moment. Seemingly fueled by mindless rage. Hook after hook, Each survivor downed in minutes not a single gen completed as he came for the last one, you. The Beast barreled towards you as you ran for the shack. You needed to get out of his way already. You need to find the hatch and escape. There would be no escape however as the moment you ran under that damn pallet you screamed loudly. The sound bounced off the walls of the empty shack the gen only half finished. A painful reminder that none of you had been quick enough to keep him away from the gens, Your leg screamed in pain as you desperately pried the trap off of you. The trial was brutal and pure carnage as you had fought to keep everyone alive as long as possible, but it was all for naught. With a grunt and another scream, you fell to the floor dying. Honing stone, of fucking course he used today of all days to sharpen the traps. He was leaving nothing to chance.

The Trapper, agonizingly, walked toward you picking you up slowly. Basement was right there and all he’d have to do is take you down into the heart of The Entity and she’d be happy. You struggled as he picked you up, but The Trapper pushed you against a wall, Blighted serum dripping from his open sores, his mask oozing and dripping down onto your torn bloodied clothing. The Killer holding you up by the curve of your ass against the wall. Feet instinctively wrapping around him causing a hardness to press against your groin. “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” the usually familiar voice comes out monstrous and hollow. “I can make you feel so much better like this than I ever could as that spineless maggot you call a lover.” a trembling growl ran out. His hand pressed you further into the wall, the wood groaning under the extra weight. 

You wanted to speak and defend him, but you were in the trial and only killers were allowed to talk and be heard. So you just let out an indignant grunt, which earned you a hand around your throat. Trapper growled in your ear, “You know I’m right.” his words felt like a threat as you gasped for air feeling lightheaded from the lack of it. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it felt unfair. Why was he allowed to taunt you and make you feel this way? Please, You mouthed. The Trapper pulled his hand away, masked face leaning in pressing against your pulse as he took a deep breath. “You know I can smell you, right Brat?” It was a threat laced with lust and wanton need. “I can feel your arousal. That delicious hole, begging to be speared on my cock.” he inhaled deeply, the hand on your ass kneading the flesh drawing out more whimpers. It didn’t help as he began to grind into you. “You like this don’t you? You like feeling helpless.” His clothed cock rubbing against you the large member grinding into you rubbing your aching sex. He was right, there was something about being made helpless under the weight of a monster that excited you. You had begged for this in a way, but that didn’t mean you were ready to admit any of this.

Seeing you getting flustered the killer relaxed pausing for a moment before throwing you over his shoulder. “Don’t fight or I’ll hook you.” He chuckled darkly smacking your ass firmly as he walked to the foundry. The monster’s boot echoed against the grated stairs as you climbed to the control room. A beaten-stained mattress on the floor. Without much care he dropped you onto it tearing at his own clothes, his coveralls falling to the floor exposing his heavy cock. Even being erect it could barely hold itself up under the sheer weight. His balls were covered in thick coarse hair, large, and heavy as he moved in on you. You lick your lips without even thinking, The trapper noticed this of course, and held the erection as if showing it off just for you. “You want to be a good Brat and suck it already?” despite being posed as a question, you didn’t think it was.

You got on your knees and opened your mouth, hands in your lap as you felt brainless at this moment, The action itself seemed to please the beast, he closed in on you cupping the back of your head as he brought your mouth to his length. The monster growling as you licked the slit of his cock. The smell was like honey and flora, no doubt thanks to serum. Taking a moment you worked your way along the length taking it in little by little jaw stretching to accommodate the sheer girth. The monster was impaint though, pushing in harshly causing you to gag around the length as it pressed into your throat. The cock mostly sheathed inside your mouth he began a steady pace growling lowly, “built like a proper slag.” his grip tightening as he kept a slow but aggressive pace 

“That’s a good Brat, take it just like that.” He grunted. Your hands moved one palming the front of your pants the other cupping his balls as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You could feel the veins as he twitched in your mouth the man leaning forward to brace against the wall directly behind you. He was getting into it his hands running through your hair tugging harshly to keep you in place. The mask twitched and shifted as The Trapper fought to maintain his composure. Poor guy must’ve been pent up all trial. His pace became fervent. “God, look at you, no self-respect. Nothing but an obedient hole.” The words coming out strangled as he neared closer and closer to the edge, “Shit, I’m…” He gasped for air pulling out abruptly glowing orange cum spurting forth covering your face as you obediently held out your tongue to catch what you could. Trapper stroked himself as he leaned back closing his eyes, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over him. Panting he fell to his knees knocking you over as he forced the both of you on the mattress.  His arms wrapped around you for just a moment.

“Spit it out,” he growled into the mattress. A smirk graced your face as you looked at him with a shit-eating grin. “I’m not joking, Spit it out, I don’t know what it’ll do to you.” His words came out like a genuine concern. The monstrous facade was gone. He knew you too well, you knew that you would happily eat his release even if it had been tainted. However, the fact that it tasted like honey probably didn’t help. “Just do it.” he sat up mask contorting into a scowl. You just laughed Rolling your eyes you complied, spitting out the blighted fluid before leaning to kiss Evan on his cheek. Mouthing the words, I love you, Evan.  “Hatch is just east of Shack. Get out before the entity starts clawing at the walls,” he warned, lying spread out, his naked form on full display, the blighted serum glowing under the dark light. The statement caused you to sit up offended. 

Don’t you deserve the chance to get off? After all, Evan was only like this for a short time. He was extra big all over and you had agreed to this in hopes of getting your hands on all of him. As if reading your mind The Trapper folded his arms sitting up straight. “I don’t particularly like getting blinded four times in a single chase, Brat. remember that next time and maybe then I’ll indulge you.” The Trapper just stared you down laughing as you pouted. “Now git, before I decide to hook you anyways. I’ll see after trial.” You nodded your head grumpily walking out of the foundry down the steps towards where he said the hatch was knowing you’ll get payback later.

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Could you do something for The trapper? Along the lines of getting caught in one of his traps in a game and he can't resist getting a good feel, it would be a waste to just be put on hook afterall!!

ily anon <3 cw for v slight mention of the trapper jerkin it, blood n gore and non consensual touching

You were his favourite.

You were keen and diligent, always glancing up and down to spot the glimpse of the metal jaws he'd primed in the greenery. You knew who he was - a hunter, tracking you through the dirty moss and bristling reeds in wait of your delicate ankles falling victim to his traps. Evan had waited so long to snatch you up, yet it seemed at every trials end you were disappearing into the fog - just out of arms reach.

This trial, however, felt different. Maybe the entity had finally heeded his requests in the bloodweb - his gnarled mask staring into the fire as he carelessly threw in another offering. Or rather, she'd heard his heavy grunts ringing out through the ironworks - Evan's breaths billowing out behind his mask in raspy moans that sounded suspiciously like your name.

Either way - his prize came forth in the form of a suspiciously easy trial - where he'd still yet to catch you. You'd tried your best in the end, unhooking your little friends every time Evan had strung them up like pigs to bleed, but it just wasn't enough. He seemed faster, stronger this round - cleaving through the other survivors like butter and leaving little old you all alone to find the hatch.

All it took was for one little misstep, the stress of your situation leaving you less alert than usual and allowing you the misfortune of stumbling right into the jagged metal of one of his traps. A shiver of dark delight fell over Evan once he heard your scream sound out into the cold air, why, you were only a few metres away, you sneaky little thing.

You claw at your ankle, hands slicked with blood as you try so desperately to pry the metal jaws away from your torn flesh. Your grip is made worse by the watery mud of the swamp, and it isn't long until you hear the thundering footsteps of the Trapper behind you, your heart hammering like a little hummingbird in your chest.

He's quick to splay a broad hand out on the small of your back, pushing you harshly into the mud so he can crane the trap off of your ankle. Evan can hear your pained whimpers, face buried into the crook of your arms as you wait for him to pick you up, or worse, mori you. Instead, the Trapper takes great satisfaction in moving his calloused hand underneath you, propping you up so he can rut himself against your back.

Evan practically growls against the back of your head, the gnarled carving of his mask jutting into your soft cheek. His breaths are thick and rugged as he reaches to palm your soft tits through the fabric of your top - your confused, indignant whimper only made it all the more delicious. He palms your hip in a deceptively soothing manner, his fat, heavy cock stiffening against the cleft of your ass.

But alas, the Entity hungers. The Trapper pulls away almost reluctantly, the Entity had gifted him greatly this trial - Evan would make sure to keep in her good graces for trials much like this in the future. You cry and squirm as he hoists you up, kicking against the broad wall that is his back when he stands straight, a hand kept firm on your ass in a very indiscreet manner. He growls, feeling his cock chubbed up against his boiler suit.

It's a damn shame to watch the Entity take you away, your body ascending into the sky as Evan observed, a pleased rumble reverberating through his chest. He continues to think about it long after the trial had ended.

When you pop back up at your shabby little campfire, confused and stammering as your survivor friends crowd you in attempts at comfort - Evan watches on from the treeline, palming at himself through his overalls. Now that the Entity had gifted him a taste of you - he only wanted more.

Poor sweet thing, you had no idea what was ahead of you now.

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader \\ Morning Sex [18+]

“Fuck! You’re so tight…” 

Your whimpered moans met Simon's strained voice in the soft morning air. Daylight filtered in through slightly parted curtains to create a tableau worthy of the Sistine Chapel. 

Simon’s body covering your own smaller one, muscles rippling and flexing as he takes you from behind. 

You hadn’t intended to start the morning this way, on the contrary you’d had something else in mind- not that you were complaining. How could you with his plush tip bullying that tender spot deep within your fluttering walls. As a matter of fact, words failed you all together once his fingers joined the symphony, stroking and petting your swollen clit in an attempt to soothe the ache. 

“Shhh,pidge. Shi', so good, baby…” Simon's words slurred, abdomen muscles taught with the effort not to finish before you… it’s just that you're so tight, and those sounds you make? He still marvels that you don’t understand what a turn on your mere presence is to him. 

The bed frame squeaked under the weight of your movements, headboard gently lapping at the wall like calm tides by the seashore with every roll of his hips into yours. 

Large hands slid down your arms, freeing your trembling hands to link with his own. Soft praises and half curses spilled from his lips as he trailed open mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck. 

“So good f'me, yeah?” A groan resounded from deep in his throat as he met his own blissed out gaze in the full length mirror, you’d recently purchased. He hadn’t understood the need for such a ‘monstrosity’ as he’d put it, but now? 

Now Simon wanted to panel the entire house in mirrors. 

Something about watching your face - all scrunched and flushed- riled up something practically feral in him. His chest rumbled in that entirely masculine way, his knees dug deeper into the mattress, his teeth dug into the tender skin of your neck drawing a strangled mewl from your lips. Simon's hips began to roll more urgently, driving himself as deep within your warmth as he could manage. You responded in kind, driving yourself back onto him, begging and whining sweetly. 

His heart swelled and thundered, stuttering as your release toppled him past that glorious precipice and into a delicious purple haze. You lay tangled in the sheets, dappled by morning sunlight. His heart squeezed at the feel of your fingers playing with his dampened waves. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever have words to tell you all that you meant to him. It seemed incomprehensible. How exactly did you tell someone that before them you’d been in the deepest of hells? That before you there’d been only darkness and misery. That you’d sparked something within him that he’d thought long dead. Simon might not be a poet, but then again, you’d never asked for a poet. 

You’d simply asked for him. 

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

PORN DIRECTOR KÖNIG

nsfw. 40s könig. come eating. pussy slapping. voyeurism. manhandling. degradation. squirting. sex work.

you never planned on doing porn.

you don't think anyone does, really. you had a whole different life mapped out— degree, stable job, retirement.

but college was bleeding you dry. bills stacked faster than you could pay them, textbooks cost more than your monthly groceries, and your financial aid office had the efficiency of a broken vending machine. part-time jobs barely kept the lights on. dinner was whatever was cheap and lasted the longest.

you worked, studied, scraped by, but it felt more like drowning in slow motion.

camming started as an experiment. a shot in the dark born from desperation.

you bought a cheap ring light from amazon, found a secondhand webcam on facebook marketplace, and set up your little filming space in the corner of your apartment. it was nothing fancy. the lighting was bad, the camera wasn’t great, and instead of a tripod you had a stack of books.

but it worked.

you slipped into the only matching lingerie set you owned— soft pink lace, delicate ribbons, tiny bows stitched in all the right places. sheer enough to tease, but still leaving just enough to the imagination. the bra straps slipped down your shoulders as you posed in front of the mirror, lips parted, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

picking the best ones, you captioned them with something playful then posted them to onlyfans, shut your laptop, and forgot about it. you weren’t expecting much. maybe a few subscribers, a little extra cash, nothing major.

then, your account blew up.

someone with a bit of reach had apparently found your photos and posted them to a a ddlg subreddit, and suddenly you were everywhere.

at first, you didn’t notice. but when you woke up to hundreds of new notifications, dms, and tips flooding in overnight, you started digging.

that’s when you saw it. a post on reddit. thousands of upvotes. hundreds of comments dissecting your photos in excruciating detail.

[r/ddlg] found this new onlyfans girl and i'm losing my mind. she’s so soft. look at her. look at her.

🔺14.3k upvotes 💬 793 comment

u/daddysfavorite456: this is the most perfect little babygirl i’ve ever seen wtf

🔺6.2k

u/sirspanksalot: the way she’s tugging her panties down just a little… i need a moment

🔺4.9k

u/subsugarplum: her little pout in the third pic is actually ruining my life

🔺3.3k

u/softdom_daddy: how do we make sure she never pays for anything again in her life?

🔺7.1k

your breath caught in your throat as you scrolled. every detail of your photos was being analyzed. obsessed over.

the way you tilted your head just slightly, eyes wide and doe-like. the way your fingers curled in the hem of your panties, like you were hesitating. like you needed permission. the little pout in the last photo, lower lip caught between your teeth, the faintest furrow in your brows.

suddenly, your subscriber count was doubling by the hour.

new subscribers flooded in overnight. your follower count jumped by thousands. dms piled up, requests, tips, compliments, outright begging.

"you're perfect. please let me take care of you." ($20 tip)

"you’re the softest little thing i’ve ever seen." ($50 tip)

"tell me you do custom videos. i’ll pay whatever." ($100 tip)

the sudden influx of attention was overwhelming. you barely had time to process it before people were demanding more.

demand skyrocketed. they were practically clawing at your metaphorical door, begging for more content, more variety— more, more, more.

for now, solo work was fine. it was safe. comfortable. easy to control. but you knew it wouldn’t be enough forever. you saw it in the comments, in the messages, in the ever-growing list of requests. they wanted more than just you and a camera. they wanted another presence. another body in the frame.

you debated your options. a studio would be the safest bet. you had the budget now— painstakingly built, every small tip, every renewal adding up until you finally had enough that you didn't need to comprise comfort.

but finding the right studio was another thing entirely.

you didn’t want the overproduced, garish lights and cheap theatrics of mainstream porn. you wanted subtlety. intimacy. something with taste. good lighting, soft edits, angles that captured the feeling rather than just the act.

something that matched the persona you had so carefully built.

you thought about it for weeks before finally bringing it up to valeria, a girl you often had collabs with.

she tilted her head when you mentioned it. "professional production..? you know there are a lot of seedy guys out there."

you nodded, worrying your lip between your teeth. you’d done enough research to know that most so-called "professional" setups were just glorified scams, with sleazy directors who treated performers like props.

valeria watched you for a second, then clicked her tongue. "but, if you ever actually follow through, i know a guy. a lot of the girls have worked with him before. big name in the business. respects his actors. good guy." she pulled out her phone. "i’ll send you his portfolio. put in a good word."

you meet könig a few weeks later, after countless back-and-forth emails, late-night calls hammering out details, discussions about setups, plot points, pricing. every conversation had been strictly professional so far and you appreciated the distinct lack of attempts to try and get in your pants.

you don’t expect to spot him the moment you step into the airbnb you rented for the shoot, but there he is, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the crew. and the first thing that strikes you isn’t his height (though jesus, he’s massive). it’s how out of place he looks.

he doesn’t carry himself like someone in the industry. doesn’t exude that easy sleaze, that over-familiar smirk you’ve come to expect from men in this business. no tight black tee straining over biceps, no carefully curated air of supremacy with just a hint of nicotine.

instead, he looks like someone’s dad who got lost on his way to a hardware store and somehow ended up in the adult industry instead.

his glasses are perched high on the bridge of his nose, pushed up with the absentminded shove of a knuckle. his sweater— soft, thick, comfortable— hangs loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up to reveal thick forearms dusted with silver hair. he’s dressed like he should be standing at a backyard grill, not directing an erotic film.

he’s older than you expected. forty, according to his portfolio, and he wears it well. silver threading through black, crow’s feet at the corners of sharp, washed-out blue eyes. his nose is crooked— like it had been broken once and never quite set right— makes his face look lived-in, a little rough around the edges. his stubble is light, a soft dusting of salt and pepper.

he looks warm.

he’s talking to someone. one of the crew, maybe, head dipped slightly, listening intently. but even hunched, even relaxed, his sheer size makes him loom.

and then the door clicks shut behind you, and he hears it. könig's head lifts, pale blue eyes settling on you in an instant.

he excuses himself with a quiet murmur. hands tucked into the front pocket of his pants, broad shoulders rolling slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller, less imposing.

it doesn’t work.

“good to finally meet you,” he says, accent curling soft in his words.

oh, you think. you hadn’t expected that, either.

his voice is deep, just shy of being harsh. it's a far cry from the sharp tone you’d imagined after hearing him speak over the phone. there’s something smoother about it in person, a warmth undercutting the rough edges.

you shift the tray of coffee in your hands, balancing it carefully before setting it down on the small folding table near the entrance.

“brought coffee for everyone,” you say, wringing your hands because you refuse to brush them off on your dress.

he glances down at the cups, and for a second you think you see something soften in his expression.

“thoughtful,” he murmurs, and though his face remains unreadable, you can hear the approval in his voice.

you exhale, trying to shake off the nervous energy thrumming in your chest, and clear your throat. “figured caffeine would help. don’t wanna be the reason your crew collapses mid-shoot.”

könig huffs something close to a chuckle, tipping his head toward the set-up behind him. “they’ve worked under worse conditions.”

you’re not sure what that means, but before you can ask, he gestures for you to follow him further into the space.

the next few minutes are easy. professional. you go over the shot list, the angles he’s planning, how he likes to work— efficient and minimal retakes unless absolutely necessary. he asks about your preferences, what you don’t want, what you do.

it’s…comfortable. smoother than you expected. he’s patient, but direct. no wasted words, no unnecessary small talk, just the work. you like that.

and then your phone rings.

you pull it from your pocket without thinking, glancing at the name on the screen. simon riley. your co-star. you press accept, bringing the phone to your ear.

“hey, you on your way?” you ask, already stepping away from könig, mind half on the conversation you’d just been having.

but simon doesn’t answer right away. there’s a beat of silence. “can’t make it.”

your stomach drops. you stop short, pulse spiking. “what?”

“somethin’ came up. won’t be able to get there.”

you glance at könig, breath stalling in your throat. this cannot be happening.

“simon, i can’t reschedule,” you hiss, stepping further away, out of earshot. “i already paid for the location, the crew’s already here-”

“nothin’ i can do, sweetheart,” he interrupts, not unkind. “’m sorry.”

but sorry doesn’t fix this. sorry doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t shoot today, you’re out thousands. your grip tightens around your phone. “simon, please-”

the line clicks.

he’s gone.

panic creeps up your spine, cold sweat starting to form on your palms. you can’t not shoot today. you can’t afford it. the budget’s already stretched thin, and a reschedule isn’t just inconvenient— it’s impossible.

you drag a hand to wipe the sweat on your forehead.

könig’s eyes are on you and you can feel the heat of his gaze. when you turn, he asks, “problem?”

you open your mouth, hesitate. because what the fuck are you supposed to say? every option you can think of results in you losing a few hundred dollars at the minimum.

you figure the truth is the best option you've got. “simon's out.”

könig watches as your fingers tighten around your phone, knuckles turning white. you press your lips together, trembling just slightly before biting down.

he tilts his head, slow. "know anyone that can sub in?"

you shake your head immediately, too fast, too frantic. a sharp inhale makes your shoulders rise, lashes fluttering against the unshed tears that suddenly gloss your eyes.

fuck.

you’re going to cry.

könig shouldn’t be looking this closely.

shouldn’t be cataloging every shift of your body. shouldn’t be tracking how your throat works as you swallow, how the delicate line of your jaw tenses under pressure.

it’s detail that shouldn’t register. detail that has no purpose. no place. no right to send his thoughts careening somewhere they have no business going.

but there they go anyway.

because he's been watching you.

not in a way that's creepy— könig tells himself that, over and over. he was just a professional doing his research, getting a feel for his clients. it’s good business practice, staying informed, making sure he knows who he’s working with, what they bring to the table.

and if that research led him to your socials, to hours of footage in soft, honeyed lighting, to endless clips of you sprawled out on pristine white sheets as you mewled into the camera— well. that was just part of the job, wasn’t it?

nothing personal. certainly nothing unprofessional.

but the truth, the thing he never says out loud, not even to himself is that he’s spent far too many nights with his phone in one hand and his cock in the other, watching you through the screen.

watching you in those tiny lingerie sets. pink and white lace, frilly little bows, the kind of girlish softness that makes his teeth ache.

könig's watched every fucking video. every stream. every post. hours spent with his laptop open, pants shoved down around his hips, hand working his cock as you bat your lashes and moan so sweetly it makes his head spin.

‘am i a good girl?’ you breathe into the mic, like you’re talking right to him. like you know.

and god, does he know you.

he’s studied you. learned you. mapped out every twitch, every tell, every fleeting flicker of pleasure that crosses your pretty face. the way your brows pinch together when you’re getting desperate. the way your lips part right before you come, glossy and swollen, tongue darting out to wet them like you want something in your mouth, like you’re inviting someone to grab you by the jaw and fuck your throat until you can’t think.

he’s seen how your thighs start to tremble when you edge yourself too long. how your back arches off the sheets when you finally let go, hips rolling into your own hand, breath catching in your throat as you fall apart in a mess of shuddery gasps.

könig has jerked off to all of it.

not just once. not just twice.

so many times he’s lost count.

sometimes slow, drawing it out to hear that little whimper you make at the end— the one that sounds like you’ve been fucked dumb.

sometimes rough. desperate. chasing his own release with one hand fisted in the sheets and the other pumping his cock.

it drives him fucking crazy.

it’s worse up close. worse when you shift on your feet, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, trying to hold yourself together.

stop.

he clenches his fists. drags in a breath through his nose. he is not some fucking rookie. not some kid who can’t keep his head straight.

but then you make a sound that crawls under his skin and sinks deep. and suddenly his thoughts are careening somewhere they shouldn’t go—

places where that breathy little sound is choked out against his palm. where those fingers twisting at your sleeves are scrabbling at his belt instead, pulling, fumbling, desperate.

his cock twitches.

jesus christ.

it’s perverse. it’s wrong. twenty years between you. he shouldn't even be thinking about you like this. but then he thinks about how small your hands would look trying to wrap around his cock. how easily he could press you up against the nearest wall, let you feel how bad he wants you, let you know exactly what you do to him—

and yeah.

he’s fucked.

his grip tightens on the coffee cup, knuckles white, cardboard crumpling in his palm.

"we can reschedule." it’s the logical thing to say. the right thing.

but you stiffen immediately, shaking your head almost violently, like the mere suggestion hurts.

"i can’t." your voice wobbles. "i don’t have the budget for it. the airbnb, the crew- if we don’t shoot today, it’s done. i lose it."

he can hear the distraught in your voice, the panic creeping in, rising in your throat. and könig— könig has never been good at ignoring that kind of thing.

his jaw tightens. his fingers flex. his pulse pounds in his ears. and before he can think better of it—

"i can do it."

your head jerks up, eyes locking onto his. wide. startled.

"what?"

könig lifts a broad shoulder, deceptively casual, ignoring how his pulse is hammering in his throat. acting as if he didn’t just offer himself up like it was nothing.

"i can do it," he repeats. "you need a scene partner."

he pauses, just long enough to make sure you’re really listening before he adds, pointed: "i’ve done worse for less."

it’s true too. könig had started shooting for money, not for passion, not for art. there were years where he took any job that paid, no matter how grimy, no matter how degrading. no dignity in it, no careful framing, no thoughtful direction. just harsh lighting, rough hands, the sound of too many bodies shifting in too little space.

it’s not like that anymore.

now, he works for himself. he makes art, in his own way. he only takes projects that meet his standards, only shoots what he knows will look good.

and this, you, would look incredible.

"are you-" you swallow hard, throat working, voice tight. "you’re serious?"

könig lets out a short, amused breath, tilting his head. "wouldn’t offer if i wasn’t."

your gaze flickers down to his mouth, just for a second, before snapping back up.

he notices. of course he fucking notices.

you hesitate, worrying your lip between your teeth, and he wants— god, he wants.

he lifts his coffee, takes a slow sip. watches you.

"think it through," he says, letting the accent curl around the words. "do you trust me?"

you stare at him, breath coming in short, uneven pulls. your fingers tighten around your phone.

and then, even though you probably shouldn't, you nod.

this is insane, is all you can think as your hands smooth down the dress, fingertips catching on the fabric’s delicate weave. it sways when you move, hem teasing the tops of your thighs.

the crew picked it because it feels normal, something someone’s wife might wear on a lazy sunday, waiting for her husband to walk through the door. not lingerie, not tight or short or scandalous. innocent.

somehow, that makes it worse.

the set sprawls before you, carefully crafted to mimic home. the couch sits comfortably worn— or at least looks like it, upholstery creased just enough to suggest years of use. a blanket lies draped over the back, fringes brushed out to seem effortless.

the coffee table holds small artifacts of a life: a half-empty mug with a faint lipstick stain, a book splayed open, pages curled, a pair of keys glinting under the warm overhead glow. off to the side, a framed photo perches, two strangers caught in mid-laugh, frozen happiness you’re supposed to claim as yours.

the lighting bathes it all in amber. soft, forgiving. like sunset spilling through a window that doesn’t exist. everything is designed to feel. to pull the viewer into a scene that isn’t real but wants to be. warmth. comfort. longing.

your pulse trips. nerves coil tight under your. stepping out, you inhale–

and there he is.

könig stands beside the couch, posture loose, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something. the uniform strains against him, fabric pulled taut across broad shoulders and the solid line of his chest. it’s glaringly obvious that it wasn’t tailored for a man like him— you doubt anything ever is— but he wears it like it belongs to him anyway. the belt grips a tapered waist, dog tags resting cold against his sternum. they glint when he shifts, catching the warmth of the lights.

he’s big. that part you knew. everyone knows. but there’s something about seeing him like this, the bulk of him filling the space, boots planted, arms crossed, sleeves clinging to thick forearms, that makes your breath catch in your throat.

he looks like he could hold the world in his hands. break it if he wanted.

then he lifts his head. and his gaze finds you.

it hits like a physical weight, gravity pulling you closer.

his eyes track the line of your body. starting from your face, drifting down, and back up again. for a moment you assume he’s taking inventory, cataloguing details you didn’t know you were offering.

your skin prickles under the attention. heat pooling low, spreading outwards.

könig’s jaw shifts. a muscle ticks. his fingers flex where they rest against his bicep, knuckles pale for half a second before he eases them loose.

you swallow. "do i look okay?"

silence stretches. then: "you look perfect."

his voice sounds like it's been scraped raw from something you can’t name. and you know you shouldn’t take his words to heart. shouldn’t make something out of nothing. he was just being polite—

but god, he doesn’t stop looking.

you breathe out. "are we ready?"

that seems to snap him out. könig exhales, nostrils flaring. “yeah," he says, looking away.. "we’re ready."

you nod and he turns, clapping his hands together.

"quiet on set!" his voice cuts through the chatter. "lights- ready? camera?"

a muffled ‘rolling!’ comes from behind the equipment.

he glances back, stepping into place. "sound?"

"speed!"

he nods, shoulders shifting under the snug uniform. "all right. action on me. three... two..."

his gaze flickers forward, locks onto you. his hand lifts, a silent ‘ready?’

you nod.

"action!"

the front door creaks open.

you see him first— broad shoulders filling the doorway, boots heavy against the worn rug you picked out last fall. his bag drops with a dull thump, keys jangling, and for a beat, you just stand there, watching.

it doesn't feel real. something out of a dream. your husband looks older somehow. tired. lines carved a little deeper around his eyes, hair at his temples brushed with more gray than before.

it's longer now too, the ends curling where sweat and travel have left it mussed.

then his gaze lifts, blue catching yours. and that’s all it takes.

you move.

your feet carry you faster than you realize, dress fluttering against your legs as you throw yourself into him.

könig catches you with a small grunt, part effort, part relief, hardly moving from his spot. strong arms close around you as he lifts you off the floor with an ease that's almost unfair.

his hand finds the back of your thigh, fingers splayed wide. "easy, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice rough from disuse, deepened by exhaustion and age. there’s an edge to it, earned from years of barking orders and nicotine abuse. "still getting old, you know."

you huff a breath that’s almost a laugh. "you’re not that old."

"hm." könig presses his face into your hair. "tell that to my back."

your chest tightens. god, you missed him. missed the way he smells— soap, leather, that faint trace of cologne you’d tucked into his bag months ago, almost worn off, but still miraculously there. you press your nose to his neck, breathing him in, and whisper, "missed you."

"missed you more." when he pulls back, his gaze traces every line of your face, eyes crinkling at the corners. "lemme take a good look at you, baby."

heat blooms in your cheeks, but you let him. there’s something reverent about his gaze when you meet his eyes.

then, he kisses you.

and fuck.

it’s messy. warm. his mouth is rough against yours, stubble scraping your skin, tasting like coffee burned down to the dregs.

"god," you breathe, voice catching on a gasp. "i love you."

könig chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours. "love you too," he murmurs, using that voice he saves for early mornings when you’re tucked against him, trading lazy kisses and whispered secrets.

his hands slide down to your hips, pulling you close. the world tilts, narrows, until there’s nothing but him. his body, his breath, the scratch of his stubble when he tilts his head, brushing his nose against yours.

then his fingers slip under your dress. his breath hitches the moment he finds you bare, his touch grazing soft folds, sticky and warm with slick.

"no panties?" his voice dips somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

heat blooms in your stomach. you bite your lip, shrugging. "figured you'd appreciate it."

his gaze darkens, blue eclipsed by black. "oh, do i."

könig’s fingers slide between your folds, dragging through the slick mess you’ve already made. you flinch at the contact, hips twitching toward him before you can catch yourself.

he pushes it in, slow. the stretch punches a gasp out of you, walls fluttering around the intrusion. he pauses, ignores your whine, brows drawing together, finger knuckle-deep. "did you get tighter?"

his voice is soft, almost like he’s talking more to himself than you, words slipping out under his breath.

his finger curls, pressing snug against your walls, testing just how much resistance it meets.

you whimper, thighs twitching, nails digging into the fabric of his jacket. "m-maybe if you fucked me more, i wouldn’t be."

the words tumble out before you can think to stop them. your pulse skips as you process what you just said. heat floods your face.

könig’s head tilts. his eyes flick up, narrowing, — not angry, not exactly— but his stare steals the breath from your lungs all the same. your lips part, trying to fumble out an apology stuck at the back of your throat when—

slap.

he pulls his finger free and smacks your pussy.

you squeak, body jerking as the sting blooms quick and hot between your legs, warmth spreading through your skin, rushing up your spine. you’re caught between shock and the low, simmering heat that pools in your belly.

"careful," könig warns although his tone is deceptively light. his fingers tap against your clit in soft, featherlight pulses of teasing pressure that makes your thighs jump. "keep that attitude and i’ll slap this pretty little thing five times. make you count every single one. s’that what you want?"

your cunt clenches, slick dribbling down to coat his knuckles. he feels it, of course he does. feels how your body betrays you, responding before your mind can catch up.

chest heaving, you shake your head, breath shivering out of you. "no-"

"no?" he echoes a soft mockery, fingers dragging through the mess between your thighs, spreading it just to hear the wet sound it makes echo in the space between you. "then behave, sweetheart. don’t make me teach you."

your heart pounds, breath coming in little gasps as you offer him a jerky nod. könig only watches with lazy half-lidded eyes.

"now," he murmurs, finger filling you again. "gonna ask one more time. have you gotten tighter..." his thumb brushes your clit, just enough to make you twitch, "...or have i just left you empty for too long?"

heat surges through you. your hands clutch at his jacket, grounding yourself in the weight of him. your face burns.

"you were gone for so long," you whisper, voice small, shame curling in your stomach.

he sighs. something in his gaze softens, guilt threading through his voice. "i know, baby." his forehead presses against yours. “missed you too."

you sniffle, nuzzling into his shoulder. "y-you can’t go away that long again..." the words tremble, cracking at the edges.

he kisses your temple, breath warm against your skin. "i won’t," he lies, gentle. "let me stretch you out, yeah?"

könig guides you further into your home, coaxing you down on the couch. könig kneels between your legs, broad hands spreading you open and drinking in the sight of you laid out before him.

"look at you," he murmurs, thumb dragging through your folds, gathering your slick up to rub slow circles against your clit. "so wet for me already. miss having me inside, huh?"

your fingers clutch at the cushions as he begins to fill you, head tipping back. "yes-"

"you gotta watch, pretty," könig interrupts, fingers tilting your chin back down.

your gaze drops, breath catching when you see it— his thick fingers buried deep inside you, slick dribbling down his knuckles. the gold band around his finger shines beneath the mess you’ve made, drenched, the sight obscene and somehow more intimate than you’re prepared for. your walls flutter around him, clenching down like your body’s desperate to keep him there.

"look at that.” he grind. "look at your cute little cunny... makin’ a mess all over me."

your cheeks burn. you squirm, trying to close your thighs, but his other hand tightens on your hip, keeping you spread. "no hiding," he says. "told you to watch."

so you do.

you watch the slow drag of his fingers pulling out, coated in slick that strings between you. your cunt clenches around nothing, throbbing, and you let out a soft, desperate whimper. könig hums, pleased, pressing back in. "look how well you take me," he says, dragging against that spot inside that makes your vision blur.

you whimper, head spinning, hips grinding down onto his hand. "feels so good-"

"yeah?" he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "gonna let me in now, sweetheart? let me fill you up nice and slow?"

you nod, frantic, words lost to the heat coiling low in your stomach. könig smiles, pulling his fingers free. you whine at the loss.

"shh," he soothes, wiping his slick-covered fingers against the head of his cock, spreading you over himself. "gonna take care of you. just lay back and be good for me, yeah?"

his hands grip your thighs, pressing them up toward your chest, folding you beneath him. your skin burns under the pressure, nerves sparking with every shift of his weight. the blunt head of his cock nudges against your entrance. he’s patient, achingly so— dragging it along your folds, gathering your slick, smearing it along his length until you’re soaked enough that he doesn’t have to rip you open.

könig’s gaze drops to where you’re spread open for him. "ready?"

you nod, breath catching in your throat, but it’s barely a sound, barely a thought when he starts to press in. he breaches you, the thick crown of his cock pushing past your entrance. your cunt clenches on instinct, trying to force him out, but könig presses on.

every inch feels like fire licking up your spine, burning through every nerve until you’re nothing but sensation.

"gonna fill you up, sweetheart.” his voice is a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. "stretch you out every day i’m home-" he drives forward another inch, making your back arch, "-’til this pretty cunt just opens up for me."

you can’t speak. can’t think. everything narrows down to the drag of him inside you, veins and ridges catching on the soft walls of your cunt. your mind spins, vision blurring as your hips jerk, instinctively trying to escape the overwhelming fullness. his fingers bite into your thighs, holding you in place.

"uh-uh," he murmurs, dark amusement curling at the edges of his words. "don’t run, baby. you wanted this."

he braces himself, broad shoulders tense above you as he tries to sink deeper. but even with how wet you are, how pliant you’ve gone beneath him, your body refuses to give. his hips stutter, pushing, pushing— yet still, there’s that impossible last inches he can’t force past.

“p-please- need it, need you-” the words spill out as he pauses, pulling back an inch.

"i know, baby, i know," he pants, forehead pressing to yours, sweat slick between you, before rolling his hips back in, trying his damn best to bottom out, but your cunt clenches stubbornly. frustration twists across his face, the sight of you writhing beneath him, cunt stretched wide and still too tight to take him fully— it drives him insane.

"gonna have to fix that," he murmurs, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

you nod, dazed, tears slipping down your temples as you sob out a choked, "yes- yes, please-"

"shh," könig soothes, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. "you’re doin’ so good, baby. takin’ me so well. just need to open you up a little more, yeah?"

könig adjusts his grip, hands sliding beneath your knees, lifting you with ease. before you can even register the shift, he’s pulling you up against his chest, arms hooking beneath your legs, locking you back in a full nelson.

your breath stutters, eyes going wide as your body is left entirely at his mercy, weightless in his grip, spread open around him.

könig’s lips graze your ear. "gonna let gravity help us, yeah? lil bit of science. let’s see if this pretty little cunt can take all of me now."

your toes curl, breath hitching as he angles his hips, smearing your slick between you.

then he lets gravity do most of the work.

your breath leaves you in a shattered moan as your body sinks down, forced open as he drops you down on his cock. your walls flutter, clenching around him, stretched impossibly wide, struggling to take him, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let you squirm away.

"that’s it," könig groans, arms flexing as he holds you still, keeps you spread. "so fuckin’ good for me, baby. lettin’ me stretch you open- gonna make you take it all."

you whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your lips, eyes rolling back as the last stubborn inch finally, finally sinks in, his cock seated fully inside you for the first time.

"fuck," könig grits out. "that’s my girl. knew you could take it, baby. knew you just needed a little help."

könig doesn’t give you much of a chance to adjust. the moment he thinks you're ready, his arms tighten, muscles flexing as he hauls you up before slamming you back down.

you jolt, cunt forced to stretch and squeeze around him with every thrust. his strength controls everything— the pace, the depth, the way you bounce like a ragdoll, helpless to slow him down. he’s slamming himself inside, spearing you open over and over, forcing you to stretch wider than you ever have.

you can’t keep up. your limbs go slack, muscles useless, brain short-circuiting. your vision blurs, eyes rolling back, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

könig chuckles, pleased, watching the way you’ve gone completely limp in his arms. "gonna stretch you out like this every single day. keep you full, fuck you dumb, make sure this little cunt remembers who it belongs to."

your body convulses, wracked with sensation too intense to hold in. könig keeps moving, fucking you onto his cock like he’s trying to break you in, to shape your cunt to his cock.

"n-no-" your voice barely comes out. a sob caught in your throat as your fingers claw weakly at his forearms. your legs shake, eyes welling up, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. "g-gonna pee," you whimper, body locking up.

"no, baby." he drags you down harder, grinding the thick head of his cock against that perfect spot inside you. "you’re gonna cum. gonna make a mess all over me, aren't you?"

your sob turns into a choked wail as you gush, squirting hard, the release almost violent, soaking könig's thighs, dripping down to form a puddle on the floor beneath you.

könig watches you fall apart with hooded eyes, holding you up as your body jerks and trembles in his arms. "good girl," he praises, sounding utterly enthralled by the mess you’ve made. "fuckin’ knew you’d soak me- knew you were just a little messy thing."

you slump against him, muscles useless. the aftershocks have you so dazed that you barely register the shift before you’re being turned, pressed down against the floor, cheek squished against the slick puddle you just made.

"könig-" you whimper, trying to lift yourself, but his broad hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, keeping you open.

he ignores you, fingers digging into your hips, adjusting your position, spreading you wider. he lines himself up and pushes in, stuffing you to the brim in one deep thrust. your fingers claw at the wet floor beneath you, the slick sound of him sinking into you obscene in the quiet.

"good fuckin’ girl," he drags his cock out before slamming back in, his thighs slapping against your ass. "just let me use you, yeah? just take it like my perfect little cumdump."

you sob into the mess beneath you. könig presses your face harder against it, his broad palm splayed between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned.

"lick it up," he orders, tone smooth, assured, the kind of voice that expects obedience.

your whole body burns, but the heat between your legs is hotter. könig feels the way you clench around him at the command, the way your body betrays you before your lips can even form a protest.

"kö-”

“don’t make me say it twice, sweetheart," he warns, hips pulling back, dragging his cock out until only the tip stretches you open.

"what’s the matter?" he mocks. "you were so eager to make this mess- now you’re going shy?"

your breath shudders out in a small whimper before you obey, lowering your head, tongue flicking out, just barely grazing the puddle beneath you.

könig clicks his tongue. "that’s not licking, that’s teasing."

his hips snap forward, knocking you further into the mess, forcing your mouth against it. your lips part with a gasp, and könig watches, eyes dark and hungry, as you taste yourself properly for the first time.

"there we go," he hums, smug satisfaction. "now clean up every drop."

your cheeks burn as you press your tongue flat to the floor, licking a slow, tentative stripe through the mess. the taste floods your mouth and your stomach twists— but the weight of könig’s cock inside you, the way he keeps you full and stretched and pinned beneath him, sends another rush of slick dripping down your thighs.

he notices. of course he notices.

"oh, sweetheart," he breathes. "you like this, don’t you?"

your body betrays you again, a little shiver running down your spine, your cunt fluttering around him.

"mm, you do." he chuckles, dragging his fingers through your hair, tightening his grip. "filthy little thing. you’re gettin’ off on this."

you squeeze your eyes shut, shame crawling up your throat.

"könig-"

"uh-uh," he interrupts, grip tightening, making you whimper. "keep licking, schatz. don’t stop ‘til it’s gone."

your tongue flicks out again, lapping up another mouthful, swallowing it down even as heat prickles behind your eyes.

könig groans at the sight, his free hand stroking down your spine, over the curve of your ass. "that’s it, baby," he breathes. "such a good little slut for me."

you whimper, thighs squeezing together, hips rocking subtly against him, desperate for friction, for anything.

he notices that, too. "oh, you poor thing," he coos, all false sympathy, fingers stroking your cheek where it’s damp with tears. "s’this gettin’ you all worked up?"

könig pulls back just a little, dragging his length through your overstretched walls. "you gonna come just from this?" he asks, rolling his hips. your body tenses, toes curling. "from licking your mess off the floor like a good little bitch?"

your face burns, whole body trembling. too full, too overwhelmed, too much— and yet, you nod, a choked little sob escaping your lips.

his pace stutters, burying himself to the hilt with a ragged groan, holding you still as he spills inside, his cock twitching, pumping thick ropes of cum into your swollen cunt. "fuck," he pants, chest heaving, his weight bearing down on you. "so good, baby. took me so fuckin’ well."

his cum is hot inside you, sticky, leaking, seeping out around his cock as he slowly pulls back, watching his spend start to slip from your overstretched hole. könig hums, almost thoughtful. he presses a broad palm against your pussy, scooping it up, pushing it back in with two thick fingers, shoving his spend as deep as it’ll go. "keep it in,” he says almost absentmindedly. he lifts his hand after a moment, tilting his head as he examines the way it drips from his fingers.

his free hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up. your lips part before he even has to tell you. "clean it up," he slides his ring finger past your lips.

your lashes flutter, heat prickling up your spine as you close your lips around him, sucking gently, swirling your tongue over the ridges of his finger, tasting yourself, tasting him.

könig groans, thumb stroking over your cheek, watching your lips stretch around the digit, tongue flicking against the band wrapped around his finger.

"good girl," he breathes, eyes hooded, cock twitching against your slick folds, already stirring again, already wanting more.

he presses his finger deeper, until it nudges against the back of your throat, until your breath stutters and your eyes go hazy, wet.

"so pretty like this.” his other hand slips between your legs again, rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit. "gonna keep you like this forever, wife. nice and full."

he pulls his finger from your mouth with a soft pop, watching the way your tongue flicks out after it, lips wet, eyes dazed. "gonna make you a mommy.” he grins. “fill you up every night until it takes.”

“-and cut!”

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Dancer + StripClub Owner! Konig

Tell me this man wouldn’t love a good strip club.. Now what if he owned one.

I told yall I would be back, this is very half done and I’ll be honest it sat in my drafts for weeks! I might progress this more, it honestly depends how much yall like it.

Anyways, it’s good to be back, I love you all so very much.

You are the highlight of the shitty rundown club you danced for. You moved to gracefully, hypnotically as you danced around the cool metal pole. The music thrumming through the stage, money covering the area where you dance. Pushing and pulling yourself on the pole in the center stage. You reach your hand out, brushing the faces and hands of a few of the men that are closest to the stage, causing them to throw more money. When your song finishes, you drop to your knees to slowly and sensually scoop up the money, 10’s and 20’s that you stuff in your lace bra. All eyes are trained on you, the way your top pushes your breasts together, or how your stockings and panties cup your plush thighs. You raise back to your feet blowing a quick kiss in the crowd thanking them.

Konig had arrived just as your set started, walking in past the security guards who quickly move out of the way. He seats himself among the crowd, blending in as best he can. Most of the people know of him, they recognize that tell-tale mask that obscures his facial features, making him unreadable. They fear him, so they give him room. He’s got his eyes trained on to your form as you dance across the stage, reaching out, fingers brushing against some of the patrons who eagerly throw their money at you. When your song finishes and you’ve finished collecting your money, the kiss you send out to the crowd sparks something with in him. You’ve piqued his interest, dangerously so.

You’re in the dressing room fixing up your makeup in the cracked mirror. Other girls rushing to make an appearance on stage, queuing their songs with the DJ, hushed whispers being shared between them about the boss being in. You delicately swipe the red lipstick across your lips pursing them as you examine yourself, paying the hushed rumors no mind.

He’s searching for you, stalking about the club, shaking off the other woman that try to cling to his arms. He whispers a few words to the DJ, inquiring about you. Wondering when you started, how often you preform, and what your name is. The DJ gives him a stern look before coughing up your information for a quiet 20$. A sinister grin spreads across his face, he’s got you.

You’re making rounds around the club, feeling your way around customers. Feeling how they stuff money in your top and under your stockings. You were such a sight to behold. He approaches you quietly, a large gloved hand resting on your shoulder.

“Aren’t you such a pretty thing” He leans and whispers against your ear sickly warm breath spreading across your face“Stuck working in a run down strip club leaving with a few hundred dollars a night?” A shiver quickly runs up your spine, his voice chills you to the bone. “I could treat you better” His voice hums, eyes blown wide as you take a step back every, hairs standing on end.

“I’m sorry?” You whisper, a hand coming to rest across the front of your chest, trying to hide the cleavage his eyes seem glued too. “If you keep talking to me this way I’ll go get the bouncer” You threatened voice meak, and quiet against the loud thrumming bass of the music

Konig lets out a sick laugh, his hand reaching out catching the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly close. “Get the bouncer sweetheart, see what they do.” He hums quietly as he pushes you to walk next to him, leading you down a hall of private rooms “You clearly don’t know who I am” he continues breath hot against your neck. Konig suddenly pushes you into a room and you quickly try to find your barrings, never seeing this room before your confused and lost.

The man reaches up, pulling his mask above his lips, the jagged scar that runs across them making you gasp.

“I’m so sorry” You whisper immediately “I wasn’t aware it was you.” You drop to your knees, head hung low as you plead forgiveness of not knowing the boss.

He laughs again, the sound of his belt buckle clinking together, then the sound of fabrics hitting the floor. As his boots thump against the floor infront of you “It’s okay Doll” He whispers a large hand pulling your chin making your eyes meet “You can forgive me how I see fit, and then you’ll come home with me. You’ll never have to work here again, live as my personal pet.”

How do we feel after this, it’s been awhile since I sat down to write and today felt good. I’m also working on a Thanksgiving Johnny post, I feel like he deserves it.

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

MY ☆𝐊Ö𝐍𝐈𝐆☆ HEADCANONS

SFW; no ratings or warnings, not proofread

SWEETHEART, NO HEART OR MIDDLE?

Is König the emotional type?

In my opinion? He's not a bubbly sweetheart, but he is FAR from a no heart.

He's not all lovey dovey on the surface. He doesn't like small talk. He doesn't like seeing people he recognizes in public, and he doesn't like confrontation.

König doesn't have the "uwu im so shy" social anxiety. He has the "it physically pains me when I have to speak someone and it causes violent intrusive thoughts" social anxiety. He never acts on it, of course, but social interaction makes him sick. There's a select few people he actually enjoys speaking with, and you are number one on that roster.

You'll start to notice he gets more talkative after a few weeks of knowing you, and he's more open to meaningless conversations because no conversation with you is meaningless to him. He actually enjoys when you ask him stupid questions.

CLASSY OR MESSY?

Is this guy willing to get his hands dirty?

He's naturally classy. He won't go out of his way to be messy, but he's no pretty boy either. He doesn't like mud on his boots or dirt under his fingernails. He's a very precise man. But he can get behind it every now and then.

I think he'd enjoy going on long walks in the woods to give his legs a good stretch. I don't think he'd mind spending a few hours disconnected from the rest of the world, somewhere out near the mountains. But anything further, such as hunting, you'd have to convince him to do, which doesn't take much work either. And he loves rough housing with you.

König likes tussling and tumbling in the bed like puppies til one of you eventually gets tired. You usually give in first, as he has seemingly endless stamina, but God, does it take long. He loves how long it takes for you to give up. Resistance means he's got a challenge, and you're the only one who brings out his competitive side. He's only pushy with those he's close with, so it takes a lot for people to convince him to go out for bowling or something like that.

WHAT'S HIS FAVORITE DRINK?

What does König like to drink?

He's a pretty thirsty guy, so anything that can properly hydrate him is a go-to. You'll notice when he takes you on rides that he keeps 2 liter water bottles in his backseat for emergency purposes.

It's why he wears his cargo pants outside of work. He's got pockets big enough to carry drinks all over.

Water is his favorite. He's the #1 water apologist. He's so crazy about it that he has a favorite kind of ice. Not the regular cubes, but the hollow nugget kind. He silently rejoices when restaurants and bars put it in his drinks.

And don't even get him started on juice. Orange juice, apple juice, grape juice, lemonade, the list goes on. He keeps the fridge filled with it. He'll typically drink it as a reward after a long day or in the morning once he's eaten something. It's like a little treat. König loves fruity shit. Smoothies, milkshakes, cocktails, all of it. It's why he just HAS to keep so much water on him, or he'll dehydrate.

PHYSICAL TOUCH?

What's his stance on physical touch?

It gives him the same feelings as conversations. It feels like hell. He's not a touchy-feely man. Handshakes, shoulder punches, getting pat on the back. He goes through it pretty often, and it makes him unbelievably uncomfortable when his coworkers do it. He doesn't want to seem rude, as he's already a scary guy, so he never fully expresses his issue, but anyone who can read eyes knows that bothered look. When he scrunches his nose and he winces with unease.

As he gets closer to you, he gets less tense about it. He's more likely to make the first moves and actually start giving hugs without being asked. He'll be all in your head, only stopping after you scold him for messing with it. He likes it when things are too high for you. Instead of grabbing it himself, König will pick you up, lifting you high enough to get it yourself just for a reason to hold your waist. He's pretty huge, so under regular circumstances, he's too tall to reach anything past your breast without bending over.

FRESH OR FUNKY?

What does he smell like?

Fresh. As hell. Man spends at least an hour and a half in the shower. The way it feels against his skin is just so mesmerizing. He loves hot baths and soaking in bubbles. On some days off, he'll go to the sauna with Horangi, but that's only after he's been begged and nagged into compliance.

König has a specific apple-scented soap he uses at night and a cinnamon wood soap for the day. He's likes to keep a different smell throughout the day to set his mood. Call him a pretty boy, but he just likes self care to a certain extent, and smelling good boosts his confidence.

NICKNAMES

Does he like nicknames?

He's neutral about them. Of course, he prefers calling people by their proper names. He's not against it. He's used to being firm and strict because of what he does, so he does his best to come off as sweet with what he calls you.

He puts his on swing on them. He likes teasing you for how much shorter you are than him. Yeah, everyone is shorter than König, but that makes it even funnier to him.

Kleine Frau is his go-to because he knows how much it annoys you to be referred to as a little woman. Other times, he'll just refer to you as some small animal or creature.

Things such as Maus, Haschen, and Schlumpf (Mouse, Bunny, and Smurf) are usually terms he saves for when he's trying to flirt with you, but in the end, they only piss you off, earning you some pathetic little apology where he actually refers to you as Schatze, liebling, or meine liebe; the usual terms of endearment.

You can support me by liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or cashapping me @fundsbrownie. Donations are optional, but much appreciated. Have fun! And remember, take care of yourself. If you liked this, I recommend checking HERE for more König content <3

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Danny Jonhson [Ghostface] x f!reader

I have a painted headcount on Ghostface 🌚

What do you think of Danny's friendships in Roseville, with an employee of his own agency, the city newspaper? How did they spend time together, how did she, the first of all, find out the news about a serial killer and suspect nothing? How would their relationship have continued to develop if this girl had actually followed him?

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Originally i was going to write this story into a fic. however, a comic format worked much better so i want with this style instead. 

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Saving deja vu

Philip Ojomo x Reader Y/N

tags: Fluff, Dark, painful memories, mentions of death, gentle kiss

I'm new here, I'm bad at designing posts. I hope the post will be readable and all the Wraith's favorites will see it. Enjoy reading!

The generator is almost repaired, it remains to connect the last wires, the heart begins to accelerate the rhythm.

    Silence.

– One, one left... – Y/n mutters almost in a whisper, only moving her lips.

    Silence. She scares, makes you sit in suspense, pricking up your ears. Sometimes silence is even scarier than death itself.

    Y/N hates silence.

She was left alone. Everyone bleeds on dirty hooks. Are they still hoping for salvation? Would she have the courage to save at least someone?

    Her throat is dry, and she tries to breathe as quietly as possible. Nervously looks back – but there is no one there. And not a single movement, not a sound. Even the dry grass does not rustle.

   Although they are also playing against a Wraith, who in a few minutes sneaked up on Bill, right at the generator, caught up with Feng and Dwight from behind. He is no less dangerous than the others. And if such as a Hunter, noticeable from afar, a Hillbilly whose chainsaw is heard all over the neighborhood, then he is literally your shadow, chasing everywhere, but giving the moment to attack. And the fact that you don't feel safe, it puts a lot of pressure on your mind.

     The poisonous, artificial sun has started to get hot, or so it seems to her.

«Feng is on the hook nearby, behind the barn, I will be able to save her, and then we will split up to different gates...»

Before Y/N's conscience could reproach her for her dishonorable escape alone, there was a terrible ringing of a tambourine behind her.

«Holy shit!»

   There was very little left for a complete repair of the generator, as much as a nimble killer to get to it. She won't make it, she won't make it any more.

«NO, NO!» – thoughts screamed madly, fear was harassing the soul, already grabbing it with spider paws.

“Why, why exactly on the verge of hope! Why did you wait, damn you?!„

   It was insulting and annoying, and then anger covered over, overriding other feelings, including fear. It has always been so. There were no barriers to Y/N's rage. Emotionally unstable, this is her lifelong heaviness, an immortal part of her.

    They are just worthless dolls, not just entities, but the hunters themselves, who... Just smaller pawns who don't know how to do almost anything. Except for: running away, screaming from the ghostly pain in the bleeding wounds, which are like real, but the next round will be tightened again, as if they did not exist. But the wounds in the soul remain, and when there is no living place left on it, and they will break, they will just ...

With a furious growl, she turns towards the sound, with the desire to throw out the emotions that have simply rolled over, but the fierce words will get stuck in her throat.

“Well, will you kill me, bastard?! Come on, damn it, I don't care anymore!„

    He scares with one look, tall and almost imperceptible. Even now, when the tambourine has already rung in his hands. His eyes through the mask with incomprehensible growths shine white mad, capable of piercing the artificial night of the Essence and right now they are the ones that sting the soul. They are practically no decayed mirrors of a burnt soul. Azarov's axe in the form of a repulsive human spine bleeds black, blood that casts a kind of rust in the farmer's sun.

   A dark old mask with white stripes masks the dead face of a man who once had no soul.

    Behind it hides a dead yellowed face that no one has ever loved. But one day, maybe...

   How does an Entity choose murderers?

It just takes sinners with mutilated souls and tears them to pieces completely, mutilates them, leaving only some former parts of the body, giving a new appearance before releasing them into the arena as hounds.

   Fear. So sticky and really ghostly, it just made me feel creepy when I looked at this unfortunate, no, maniac.

    And she stands, as motionless as he is. And there's plenty of time. The generator is already standing behind, forgotten and unnecessary. He is absent from thoughts.

    A slight rustle, the rustle of clothes, which the fleeing victim hardly caught - just not up to it. Small, unhurried steps towards the waiting girl.

   Not victims.

   Along with the light right now, the rage and cruelty aimed at killing has passed. The trace of it is only blood. But even then, the mutilated heart was not beating under the influence of adrenaline from the chase. It was always weak, just like an old and ancient mechanism, beating in a spacious, dried-up chest. Not knowing heat and light. Cold, like an empty and damp cell in eternal winter.

   She can't hear his breathing under the mask, and not even a sound comes from the killer's counterpart. He waits in silence, slowly inhaling oxygen into his lungs for old times' sake. He is not here and this is an attempt by the entity to make its measurements look like real ones.

   Somewhere on the edge of Ojomo's consciousness, faded visions of the past were huddled. No, not the ones when he repaired cars and processed scrap metal, but a little different time. A new beginning, in which hope shone with a pure, bright light.

    And now the agony and rage are all evaporating. It's like she's a lemon that's been squeezed to the last drop. And as if there is no greed inherent in her life, as if only her shell with a small fraction of reason remained.

   She is a pure, innocent soul.

   Touches responded in the mind, the subconscious with a bright flash of deja vu, which also abruptly faded, not giving the opportunity to see itself. The past. He was also deprived, forcibly taken away from him, the most significant part of a person. The victims have only the traits of temperament that have grown to their essence, their human vices and sins, or maybe the echoes of painful events that influenced those very habits. Well, and, a specialty like Claudette, who devoted her whole life to science. Sometimes they go hand in hand. Bill, when he was in Vietnam, was it self-esteem...

these episodes could not be amnesia, no. No way. That piece of Y/n's past can't be missed, no. Episodes, if you realize that their second participant is a murderer, are covered with a crust of nasty moss, exude gloomy horror.

    But she is not going to be afraid of him, she is not going to perceive him as a bloodthirsty hunter, a stupid toy of the Essence.

    And no, she won't regret it.

It presses harder into the fabric of the torn raincoat, tormented by time. There is a pressure in her movements to stay here longer. Both of them.

    Fragments of the past cut through the clouded consciousness of the hunter, returning to him a share of the light of his past life, returned humanity to him.

The silence of the killer ends when in the reality of the Spider, and not in his memories, he feels someone's warmth next to him. Human. Pleasant.

   Involuntarily, he shudders, not used to it in any way.

It is a blessing, this dumb joy that in the cruel world of Essence you have understood everything, as if you realized a dream, although you do not yet know how to get out of it, how to wake up.

    But the sure weapon chasing him from the dark part of the past is still in his hands. The ghost squints at him, feeling terrible hatred inside, and in the next seconds he throws him somewhere to the side, where he will get lost in the dry grass. But it won't disappear. At least for a little while, until the satisfied, satiated lady of this world takes away the third person who did not survive and until the hatch opens, does not succumb to the power on the Gate...

   Again returns her gaze to Y/N's, who entered his life as unexpectedly as then, or rather, returned. There was a hint of hope in her eyes, and now glee lit up when she saw that he was unarmed. Philip, bypassing her, raises his leg and hits the generator several times, causing the Survivor some surprise. Now the device is motionless and unscientific. Hush.

  He turned around and gently, unhurriedly grabbed her just below the ribs, lifted her in his arms. While there is still time... And he put them on the generator, now their faces were on the same level. Her eyes–expressive green, now looked straight into his white abysses. She tried to remember what the man's memories were like, what they had been like before, but to no avail. And then Y/N began to examine the mutilated and dark, like the mist itself, face. Irregularities, thin, barely noticeable lips and a neat nose. White stripes crisscrossed it, as if uneven paint strokes had been applied to it. And above that, strange growths rose up on the forehead, as if real wax had merged with the body. It wasn't scary, like everything else. It only caused sorrow and sadness. The girl only wanted to squeeze into him more, grab him in an embrace, feel that native warmth again, calm down and take away his pain. Forget about your own.

    As if reading her thoughts, Ojomo touches first. His hands slid higher on his shoulder blades, hesitantly and unhurriedly. He did not dare to touch other places, especially his thighs, he decided that this gesture would be rude and...

   As if receiving a new breath of air, the girl clung to him, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the old fabric of the cloak under her fingers, pulling him closer to her. She pressed her chest, as if finding her salvation. Without thinking about anything, she distinctly felt the booming beats in her chest. Increased heartbeat.

“What's your name?„ – hear her voice, which still broke out of the pale lips.

   The coolness comes from him, so pleasant, and some kind of confused mixture of smells: it seems to be engine oil and something else - an echo of the past.

   Unlike all aspects of the Essence world, everyone remembered their names.

And yes, he answered, right in my ear, without thinking for a long time. On exhalation, in a slightly hoarse voice, broken, so familiar.

«Ojomo... Yes. Exactly. There, in the old neighborhood of East St. Louis, near the Racker Dump.»

   Memories climbed into consciousness so violently, as if a film was being played, showing a film on a white canvas. Not so blurry anymore.

It's an unusually hot day for a gloomy city. A light breeze. There is a bit of noise in the central area, a few people come across on the way along a narrow road made of old gray brick, already cracked from time. A bright sign of Domino's Pizza – one of the most pleasant and good cafes in the area. There were quite a few cheerful and joyful people inside, like some kind of holiday. But the girl was somehow not up to them, only one person was important to her, who had attracted all her attention for several days. Which occupied all her thoughts.

– Phil, Chicken Ranch or Meat?

– Choose which one you want. – He said with a slight smile, without taking his eyes off Y/N.

From the wheezing speaker, which was the only drawback in this institution, came the pleasant and melodious voice of Freddie Mercury.

The Queen song was the last thing that made the day just perfect.

The sun was always shinin' — we just lived for fun

Sometimes it seems like lately — I just don't know

The rest of my life's been just a show

Those were the days of our lives

The bad things in life were so few

Those days are all gone now but one thing is true

When I look and I find I still love you

Only she had gone too far, seen too much. Everything is completely against the rules of the Entity. She was overtaken by a terrible headache, abruptly and suddenly.

   It was as if the film was scratched, cut, everything was damaged by interference, what was happening was distorted. The entity also wanted to spoil the world of the past. Create a crazy psychedelic out of it. Destroy it completely.

   The voice became hoarse, gradually changed. Perverted, became ugly

You can't turn back the clock

You can't turn back the tide

Ain't that a shame

I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride

   Completely unfamiliar, less and less like a human, the voice of the beloved soloist of the song native to the heart becomes disgusting. And this brought even more pain than the headache. Together, he poured poison into the soul experiencing madness. He claimed that it would not be possible to get out again.

When life was just a ga-

– Hey? Hey?!

    When she heard a worried Philip trying to reach her, she realized that she had been screaming terribly for the last few seconds, forcing and begging to stop. She was still scared and feverish, and her heart was beating as if during terror. She screamed violently, as her throat was dry. Y/N seemed to have woken up from a nightmare, the consequences of the experience did not leave her head, she was under the impression, it was difficult to move away from the shock. And although she was in the world of Essence, feeling Philip next to her, she was able to breathe calmly, relax her shoulders...

   She was tortured so well, she realized that she was terribly battered when men's hands touched her cheek to wash wet tracks. She hadn't cried in a long time. She kept everything to herself.

   She lit up with the hope of finding peace, shedding light on her existence like an ouroboros, and suffered an attempt at insanity. I almost went crazy. Is it possible here? Or will the Spider only touch her dolls, comparable to tearing off their limbs and screwing them back?

«What can I do for you, how can I ease your pain?» – The Wraith was restless, wanting to ease the pain, but not knowing how to do it. He was powerless.

Lately, he only brought pain without thinking about it, deliberately fenced himself off, hiding his soul from everything.

    The only thing he could do and wanted to do was bend down, get closer and, erasing the painful traces of tears, express his love. So he did. Hesitantly, scorching the skin with cold breath, he touched other girls' lips with the same icy lips. Does it please her? He almost forgot what tenderness and affection are, how careless and against him?

It seems that the girl's feelings are the strongest, as she ardently responded to his kiss, deepening it, inflaming and giving Philip courage. In these moments, it's as if he becomes another, not a mutilated Killer.

   Until a piercing scream rang out in the neighborhood, reminding of a victim defeated by huge spider paws. There's even less time...

“You have to go.”

“No, no, there is time.” – She pleads hoarsely, clutching at him, snuggling and only then finding peace.

    He doesn't want to leave her either.

   Power is supplied, the hatch is near the building. The thought beats in the brain that after the expiration of time, Y/N will damage the essence, herself – will pierce her fragile body with clawed paws. Piercing the very heart.

  Philip grabs her by the hips and lifts her off the generator like a doll. She holds onto his shoulders securely. I wanted to ask on impulse: where and why, but I didn't. Not to the hook...

not to the hook, right?

  But there was no panic. I didn't want anything. Just stay close.

   After walking a few meters and bypassing the hut, the killer put the girl on her feet. Looking down, Y/N noticed the black abyss of the hatch.

   A couple more seconds... Just a couple of seconds... For which she is attracted to Ojomo again, looks into his face without fear and horror, but with a completely different, old and almost forgotten, but familiar to him, in her eyes.

“See you later, Philip.”

   A pleasant warmth is coliting somewhere under the breast, but it is not painful at all. This is the warmth of his former life, bright feelings, which will now warm him in the cold, as before, nights of Essence. Nights near other Hunters. But he won't show it. He can... He does it best.

“Aun te amo mucho.”

[Lat. I love you and look forward to meeting you]

   Again something broke out from the depths of the resurrected soul. A slight movement of the hand – "goodbye", but finally, a second before the "escape" of the victim, grabs her hand and interlaces her fingers.

  That's it now.

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Hello☆ It's my first time participating!

Thanks to @angelhartsblog for letting me know about this cool event!

Akura-ou best boy♡

@kamihaji-week

[devotedlysizzlingkitty]

Smug Peach Boy

Akura-ou, my beloved. Hands down one of my favorite characters ever. He has abandonment issues!!! He’s just like me!! Frfr!!!!!!