#'IM ALL IN PALMS OUT IM AT YOUR MERCY NOW'

[hinderr]

nature/nurture enjoyers pls pls pls listen to eight, sleeping at last and think about post rescue grogu djarin PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[seraphicsentences]

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

~

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

taglist:

@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3

[stararch4ngelqueen]

MY BRAIN IS MELTING BRO

i saw a tiktok with Ghost's hand measurements-

TELL ME WHY HIS HAND IS ALMOST BIGGER THAN MY HEAD HELLO-

the brainrot is brainrotting and im so obsessed with this man

anyways maybe a drabble with a *sprinkle* of size kink with ghost fucking f!reader???

i hope your part of the world is doing well!!

Big hands. Help me. Kinda went off track with request, it’s not the best thing I’ve done, but I hope you like it

thank you for your cervix 🫡🌝

A thick palm slips along your soft, cushiony body, fingers sprawling along your damp abdomen, smooth skin meeting the weathered state of his calloused fingers.

“So wet,” The Lieutenant grumbles over you, feeling your muscles clench around the width of his cock. “Eager, eager little girl.”

You took him in so easily after fucking you with just the tip for a good few moments. The continuous cycle of Ghost watching the head of his cock pop into your eager little soaked hole before you squeezed him out; an erotic torture for you both.

You wanted more, begging for more of what you couldn’t take quite yet, but who was Ghost to say no?

You wanted the challenge. So take it.

Your breasts lightly bounced with every torturous rock, your ass flush against his waist. An electric sting of overstimulation renders you speechless, babbling crooked cries crossing his ears as angelic symphonies.

Those delicious fingers, still damp with your juices, lightly massaged along your skin with gentle intention while rocking his hips painfully slow, drawing your measly little whimpers for as long as possible.

Your body was nothing compared to his stature. Your hips weakly locked around his broad waist, twitching calves trembling along the fat muscles of his thighs. Everything about Ghost was big. Everything.

“Ohh, Y’like that?” Simon leans down over your quivering body, the slow angle squishing the tip of his cock directly against your cervix. The stretch, the pressure of feeling so full in such a short amount of time.

“Tough girl, ain’t ya?” Your Lieutenant rasps, returning his hand along your front once more,

He thrusts once, quite hard in fact, surprised to feel the bluntness faintly bump against his palm. Your back arched, a loud gasp leaving your kiss bitten lips.

He chuckles. Dark, delicious, boldly.

“What’s the matter, love? Can’t take it?”

He leaves no room for answer, skin harshly hitting soaked skin as he bucks again, biting back a rumbled grunt. His gaze falls in love with those sweet, bouncing tits, his spine nearly collapsing from the tight tension of your cunt gripping his shaft.

That blunt blow against his palm was magnificent, making you see bright flashes behind closed eyes. He bucks his hips again, pushing his palm deep just enough to gain a higher pitched whine, reminding you just how deep his big cock was buried inside your pussy. Essentially his now.

“Open ‘em,” Ghost requests, lowering himself just enough to kiss along your forehead. “Open those eyes,”

Your lashes brimmed with tears, peering up at him as if he was a God, clinging to what mercy he could possibly give. Those pretty lips, those watery eyes, apple flushed cheeks, all making his dick throb deliciously.

“S’Alright. Breathe for me, good. That’s good, good girl.” During his words, his hands work on reinforcing his hold on your hips, grasping along your thighs for proper leverage. Be expected to see muddled bruises the size of his fingerprints.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Again, he hopes you never will. It’s not his fault his pretty girl isn’t used to proper cock yet. Good thing you have him around now.

[overtaken-stream]

im here humbly to request for your king smut, i adore your writing of king more then anything

Annoy

King the WildFire x Gn!Reader

I humbly accept your request.

"Is that dick good?😈" YES KING

Warnings: Hair pulling, rough.

The darkness of the room is overwhelming, but so is the light coming from the man standing behind you. The fire turns the dark blues into orange as he continues to steal the much-needed breath away from you. The warmth is overbearing like the sun that sizzles high up in the sky throughout the summer.

The air enters your lungs for a moment, only for it to be pushed out before you can realize it. His hips send waves throughout your body, and it leads to you slamming your elbows on the wall mirror. Fingers flex, digging into the material it's made of, and you think that you should feel something from the action, if only you weren't busy with keeping your body upright from the onslaught of pleasure rocking your core every second. Your brows furrow as his hand tightens its grip on your right hip. The sweat that was and is still produced from your skin makes you feel disgustingly suffocated and sticky, it makes holding onto the slippery mirror that much harder as your eyes roll up.

Annoying.

There's no sound coming from him, well... Except the slapping of your bottom to his pelvis that makes electricity travel up your spine and spread to your shoulders, it rattles your arms, tossing whatever strength you have left out of the window.

``Mmnh-ah-hah-`` The number of times he has hit the specific spot inside of you makes tears gather at the corner of your eyes, they hold the pleasure and embarrassment you feel but fuck, it's so good-

``Look up.`` Shut up, shut up, shutup, shutupshutup.

You disobey his order, how could he ask you to obey while he is deep inside of your body, while it's so impossibly hard for you to concentrate on keeping your eyelids open for a moment, only to catch a glimpse of your shaking knees standing upright, thighs covered in cum and sweat that reflect the light. All because of him and his fast pace that has you in shambles.

(You don't deny that what he is doing is turning you on. Not like you're going to tell him that.)

The slamming of his hips continue as his left hand travels up your spine, following the delicate dip until his palm is firmly gripping your neck. His muscle flexes above you, it conveys his frustration to your disobedience. You have nowhere to hide, so you close your eyes, trying to not focus on the drool that travels down your chin. With your neck hostage, he shoves you back to meet his thrusts easily, it sends goosebumps all over your back.

(You wonder if he enjoys the sight you've become.)

Lord have mercy.

King leaves it like that, digits closing and opening against your throat, listening to the moans that you're trying to keep in.

King doesn't repeat himself. The hand on your neck suddenly pulls hard on your hair, forcing an arch on your exhausted body, the complaint dancing on your tongue dies down as he leans over you, his mouth beside your ear breathing heavily as a sudden hard ram meets your shaking legs. The head of his cock meets your gut that has twisted itself into a knot, untangling it.

It all sends you over the edge with a loud moan. It sends your eyes above and inside your skull.

``AHhh-Hah!-``

His hand grips your head, holding it in place as he continues to piston his hips into yours, the hand that held your hip now rests near your bellybutton, helping you keep balance under his weight.

You can feel the heat radiate off of his chest on your back.

``Look at yourself.`` You have nowhere else to look, so you mix his red eyes with yours in the mirror, even when he bends your head behind, you keep your eyes on the man who wears a smirk you've never seen before. His cheek rubs against the soft skin of your throat all the while his bloody eyes look you up and down, devouring you. You can feel the light stubble tickling you, but you can't find it in yourself to talk, never mind laugh.

His chest sticks on your back thanks to the sheen of sweat between you two.

You lick your lips, holding back a smile as his hips finally slow down.

Annoying.

[iwanty0uu]

all mine ~❥

(unedited)

It all started when you were getting too friendly with Nanami. Considering Nanami’s usually stoic and nonchalant attitude, Gojo knew that it wouldn’t be long before he started to like your antics. Jealousy struck him and forced him to say something.. almost. Again, as strong as Gojo was..you were stronger, and not in the sense of being the best jujustu sorcerer like he was.. no. You never cared when he threw his tantrums, or when he would give you the silent treatment, and after a couple of minutes, he always caved and dropped it. To be quite frank, he was always a little bitch in the nicest way possible, but you took it a little too far one day. He caught you basically eye fucking Nanami in the teacher work room, feeling on his biceps, playing with his perfectly ironed and straightened tie.. this drove him off the edge.

So he asked himself as the claps from the fat of your ass and his muscular pelvis filled principal Masamichi’s office.

“Should I really have mercy?”

“G-gojo please I said im sorryyy” you couldn’t help but cry as tears filled your eyes, face down on his desk as you were railed from behind, you felt his happy trail on your backside as he pulled your head back. His palm was filled with your long curly hair. He didn’t say a word. “Sato please ta- fuck” You bit your tongue. Your head was shoved back on the desk as you felt yourself clench around his ling hard throbbing member. It elongated and curved, it felt like it stretched past your cervix and into your liver at this point. Your pleads were useless, so you stopped, now the room was filled with whimoers and your beautiful moans.. “Mhmm Gojo im gonna cum please slow down..” You asked as nicely as you could because you know that he would use his domain on you if you were a stranger..his anger was freighting... Your thighs quivered as you came to your high, making yourself small and twisting, attempting to loosen yourself from his grip as he continued to mercilessly ram into you.

“Who’s pussy is this?” he finally spoke.

“Yours Gojo I swear it- hmmm I just wanted your attentionnnn”

“Tell Nanami it’s all mine” He demanded as he ringed the poor man on the phone, he answered with a gruff voice “What.”

“Nanamiiiii… help..” You mumbled, “Y/n??” He asked worried

“Say it”

“I am all and only Gojo’s” you said quietly, He knew you hated embarrassment so he wouldn’t go too far, he didn’t want you to hate him, so he settled with what he had. The only thing that he’d ever want.

“All mine” His seed loaded into you, seeping out of your skirt, he patted your ass twice and picked you up. He turned you around to face him as he fixed your glasses. “Don’t let that shit happen again…” He wiped your tears, and cleaned you up, kissing you, as you hiccuped into his kiss…

“mkay…” :(

awwwwww so nastyyyy i was watching jjk while making this btw Gojo so bhaddd ~ 𝓵𝓮𝓵𝓮<3

@alaurannara thx for the ideaaa!!!

[ratskinsuit]

Hii! I was wondering if you could write for sub!Lucifer and Gn!reader.

Basically, I was like wondering if you know you could write about that, but like the scenario is you know Lucifer being a brat …

And you know while reader they’re handling him they almost get caught, and reader tells Lucifer to be quiet.

But yeah, I was just wondering if you could write for it thank you! 🩷💕

Oh ho, Lucifer should have REALLY thought before deciding to tease you all day

He wore some slutty booty shorts, teasing you with those seductive winks

teasing glances, bending over every couple minutes

So what else did he expect when you get him alone, and he's dragged into the closet

hand down his pants and he's bound with his own tie, on his knees on the floor, foot on his cock

Your kneel down next to him, grinning down at him, your fingers in his mouth as his hazy glowing eyes stare back at you dumbly, whimpering and drooling around them

Trying desperately to buck up when you replace your food with your hand, palming him through the obvious bulge in his pants

"P-puh please... ngh.. I- k... hng... I, I know I've been a b-ba- f'ck, bad b-boy, but hng- mercy... mercy da-arling..."

He cries out when you finally pull down his pants, stroking him lazily through his underwear, soaked through with his own pre as he babbles, begging, trying to convince you that he deserves to be held down and fucked now

of course you take your time, stepping away as he cries and sniffles, tantalizingly taking off your pants and underwear, before going up to him and grabbing him by the hair and shoving him between your legs to prep your hole

drool and whimpers falling out of him and you as his usually skilled tongue dips inside of you, reaching those of so sensitive places, as you have to hold him by his hair

when you believe you have been prepped enough, you lean down, hovering over his leaking member as he spews empty insults and threats.

"F-fuckin- c'mon, fu-fuck me already!! you- hic- you can take-take the king... c-cant you??? hng- baby..."

He sobs and recoils as you grab him by his neck, snapping his head back, bearing his neck, to where you take a nip, earning a whimper, putting him in his place to realize your incharge

when you finally lean down, he cries out as the head pops in, going to start making your way down, you stop, hearing a familiar voice nearing

Charlie calls out for you and her dad "Dad? Dad you said you would help me with dinner, where are you??"

Lucifer panics, sputtering and trying to pull himself out, but you hold him down, making eye contact as you slam yourself down upon him

You have to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand to muffle the scream that rips from his mouth, crying and coughing, deep shuddering breaths at the sudden wave of pleasure

you keep your hand down as you ride him, up and down, his daughter outside the door

He cant think, tears run down his face, ruining his eyeliner and makeup, whimpering and heaving

"P-lea... mast- mhm.. hang o-mph.. ngh.... ah.. a-ack... hah.."

Pulling three orgasms out of him before Charlie leaves, and you finally drag the fucked out fallen angel back to the room for more

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A/N: I HAVE RETURNED AND IM HORNIER THEN EVER, I ALSO NOW WRITE CREEPYPASTA SO PLEASE REQUEST I BEG OF YOU

[inkeyjay]

🫀 Eucharist of the Ravenous 🫀

It started out as a bellyache, guts rumbling after two days of barely eating. An unfinished visage, featureless, fixing the blurry sockets it had for eyes into his soul.

The humble priest dropped his brush onto the cold floor of the chapel and stumbled backwards. The walls, towards the ceiling, all full of still fresh perfect faces framed by golden halos, that he had been carefully painting non stop for days. Faces of dead saints and prophets, long gone, commissioned by the high church as a display of power and opulence in an age of religious and political crisis. And this last saint, the one that still had some loose and tired brushtrokes for it's face. There was something about it that made the priest flinch out of his creative trance. He swore the paint moved, vibrated with anticipation at the touch of the brush.

He laid tired in the center of the chapel, exposed to a hundred pair of eyes that almost felt judgemental, knowing of the priest's internal thoughts. "Why am i doing this" "Why do i have to over exert myself with work to survive while i use pure gold to embellish... You. This" "Why"

And the faces remained still and silent.

"Why all this for long gone martyrs that had the fortune to die for their for their beliefs, or to let their God speak through their lips, bestow miracles through their fingers"

"Why this for a God that let them die at the heretical hands of the non believers. That leaves hundreds if not thousands of people to die of the pestilence outside this golden, rotten, WALLS"

The bottle of turpentine exploded and its contents dripped down the wall, dragging hours of work with them, dissolving like acid false flesh and gold leaf alike. And then blood, through the priest's hand, holding the neck of the bottle. He panicked and kneeled towards the wall, trying to undo the mistake with cloth, only to make a bloody mess. Red running through the gold, ichor like.

The priest cried holding his hand, a deep wound running through his palm, burning because of the chemicals. But the pain was not the cause of his tears.

"A sign" "I just need a sign"

But the faces remained still and silent.

The priest got up, slowly, and turned around towards the door. Why be here then. Why remain hungry, at the mercy of a dying church that kept their riches safe in mausoleums and layers of paint upon gold leaf upon stone, while its believers died in the streets famished and sick. The priest saw it clear now. If God did ever exist, it was long gone, uncaring for its creation. He might as well die outside, with his people. It would be like inviting the sickness into his chest but at least his last breaths wouldn't taste of incense. His steps echoed through the chamber, determined, reaching for the doors.

But the faces opened their lips. And with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, It spoke. No.

It sang.

Super happy to finally be able to show you this illustration i made for Tome of Pacts, a zine about warlocks, patrons and their pacts! There's a leftover sale going on right now! This is Pantheon, a shapeshifting entity that impersonates long absent gods and feeds on the faith of their followers, always hungry for more. But it's not for me to tell you.

! First of all, credits to @/gothhoblin, the writer of our team, for helping shape out this Patron "...and it spoke with a cacophony of voices, each one vibrating with a torrent of beating wings, a thousand or more." Is a marvelous line of her creation.

Tome of pacts has 11 more patrons and 24 warlocks for your enjoyment, all beautifully depicted by teams of artists and writers. Im super proud to have been able to participate in this project 💛

This short story is about an original character i created after the patron, just as an appetizer, pun intended. You get it right??

Hungry for a copy?

[pandorascripts]

unknowingly yours

warnings: dark themes, stalking, possessiveness, obsession, gore, murder, biting, jealousy, and im probably forgetting something too. (you’re responsible for ur own media consumption buddy)

pairing: dark!wednesday addams x vampire!fem!reader

(all characters aged up to 18)

notes: this was written on a whim at like 1am, and I’ve just now completed it. it’s kinda rushed and half-assed. enjoy :)

————

Gomez had tried to warn his daughter what it meant to be an Addams. What it meant to be so deeply in love with someone, that’d you do anything for them. You’d murder, abandon your morales, just to get one more taste of them. Wednesday had repeatedly shoved him off, claiming it would never happen, but it did. The moment Wednesday laid eyes on you, she could feel the obsession turning dark, horrific. She reveled in it. 

Wednesday loved the thrill of sneaking into your dorm, watching you whilst slept. She loved sitting in the back of her class, watching you do anything and everything. Every time your shoulders raised, taking a breath, Wednesday could praise you for it. She never understood what her father meant, until people got too touchy. After countless victims, it Yoko became the newest.

Wednesday sat in the back of the cafeteria, watching you chat with your friends. Yoko slung her arm over you shoulder, and Wednesday felt the can in her hand crack. She tried calming breaths, something her father taught her. They didn’t work. She shook with rage, the can splitting in half with her might and slicing her palm clean. She didn’t care though, all that mattered now was Yoko, who was now leaning into your ear, whispering something.

 Wednesday took in another shaky breath, how dare she touch what was hers. Wednesday decided she would show that vampire not to mess with her territory, and you, you were in trouble. You were hers, and it’s just about time you started acting like it. 

She watched with rapt attention as you leaned back, giggling. You lightly slapped Yoko on the shoulder, blushing deeply and scolding her. Wednesday stood up, food untouched, and walked over to your table. 

She bumped into the wood, her tray flying upwards and landing in Yoko’s lap. 

“The hell, dude?” Yoko yelled, her hands in the air, away from the mess. 

You rushed into action, picking up bits of food with a napkin. 

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Yoko. Calm down.”

Wednesday stared at you. Oh, you were so kind, beautifully unaware, and completely vulnerable. Wednesday filled with glee at the mere thought of ruining you. 

“Yes, precisely.” Wednesday nodded to you, her eyes never leaving yours. 

You smiled at her. “See you in botany, Wednesday?”

She nodded stiffly once again, her insides doing summersaults. You were so sweet, deliciously so. Wednesday walked away, her tray still on Yoko’s lap. That bloodsucker could deal with it, after all, it was only part of Wednesday’s much needed apology. She’d get the rest tonight, when Yoko was begging her for mercy. Her lips nearly twitched at the thought. 

Wednesday walked back up to her dorm, still having fifteen minutes until botany with you. She set her bag down on her dark bed, the empty side of the room creaking. She was so pleased she didn’t have a roommate, that’d make this next part harder. Wednesday leaned under her bed, pulling out a huge poster board. She raced back to the door, double checking its lock, and set it up. 

Her fingers traced over the red strings and pins delicately, stopping at a photo of you. You were laying down, enjoying the sun, your eyes closed and wearing your uniform. She remembered that day like yesterday, it was the first time you’d two had spoken. She only fell deeper. 

Wednesday strolled down to the lake, watching as the lily pads drifted slowly. Canoes splashed across the water, people yelling and cheering. 

“Hey! You mind if I sit here?”

Wednesday looked up, ready to dismember who ever decided to ruin her quiet. Her eyes laid on yours and, oh, Wednesday could’ve fainted. You were beautiful, an ethereal smile plastered on your face, eyes deep and true. It only solidified Wednesday’s desire for you. 

“No, not at all.”

Wednesday scooted to the left, offering you more room against the tree. 

You muttered a thank you. 

“So, why are you all out here alone?”

Wednesday sighed, your voice was so pleasing, and it was bending her to your will even more so. 

“I’ve decided to observe the Poe Cup. Thought it’d be amusing when they sink and fall. What about you, bellissima?

The Italian caught you by surprise, you were rusty, not really remembering most of it, so you shoved the nickname aside. 

“Figured I’d get away from all the yelling. It’s more peaceful down here. I’m glad you’ve found my spot though.”

“Your spot?” Wednesday questioned, her hands itching to hold yours and never let it go. 

“Yes, it’s been mine for a bit. Glad to share it though, been getting a bit lonely.”

Wednesday felt the Italian bubbling up, her father warned her about this too. She’d want to call you names, anything to give you a temporary mark as hers. She swallowed it though, choosing to instead ask you question with no flirtation. 

“Lonely? You don’t have someone?”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Wednesday wished she could’ve done it for you, she truly believed it was a crime that you’d do it yourself. A goddess like you shouldn’t waste precious time. 

“No— I— No, I don’t. You?”

Wednesday shook her head. “I’ll have them soon.” 

You smiled. “Do I know them?”

“You’re very familiar.”

You chuckled again. “What are they like?”

“They’re beautiful, out of the world so, and they make me crazy.”

You cracked a huge smile. “That’s cute. Sounds like you adore them.”

“Più di quanto tu possa sapere, mia amata.”

“I’m afraid my Italians a bit rusty. What’d you say?”

“Nothing of importance. No need to fret.”

Wednesday sighed. She traced her board again, documents and other people plastered up on there. Gently, she flipped it over, the backside littered with more photos. Everyone who was a threat. 

She traced the X’s over their eyes, a wicked smile covering her face. Wednesday uncapped a red sharpie, drawing slow, deep X’s over Yoko’s eyes.

“Non ci disturberà più, amore mio,” she sighed. 

Wednesday ordered Thing to put the board back under again. She marched off to her drawer, unlocking a secret section. Carefully, she pulled it out. 

“Which one, Thing? The mace, my machete? Or should we do it in style? After all, we are aiming to impress her.”

Her fingers grazed over her arsenal of weapons. 

“Let’s go old fashioned, hm?” She asked, pulling out a wooden stake. “Yoko’s barely even a threat.”

Wednesday set the oak down on her bed, taking out garlic spray before locking it back up. She slipped on a black pair of medical gloves, releasing them so they smacked painfully against her skin. Wednesday sighed in contempt. 

“Thing, put on a glove. Nevermore’s already worried about their students. They keep disappearing don’t they?”

He tapped in agreement. 

“What. A. Pity.”

She waited until dark, skipping her class, deciding to get more items like flashlights and garlic bombs to neutralize Yoko. Wednesday knew you wouldn’t be there, she always knew what you were doing. The psychic flipped open her pocket watch. 

Two A.M, perfect time to strike. 

Wednesday crept out of Ophelia Hall, traveling in the shadows until she reached Persephone’s Wing. Crouching down under room two-hundred and forty-three, Wednesday pulled the pin on the garlic grenade and rolled it under the door. It exploded silently, a jagged choking noise filling the room. Wednesday tossed another one, slipping out her crowbar and cracking the door open. 

The anger from earlier surged through her as Wednesday marched inwards, she closed the door behind her. Knowing the lock was broken, she slid Yoko’s desk against the wooden frame. 

Yoko choked out pleas, desperate to justify herself for an unknown crime. Wednesday looked up, inhaling deeply as she soaked in Yoko’s cries. The vampire continued crying, bloody tears streaking down her face as she choked. 

Wednesday looked to her. Oh, it was exquisite. Yoko’s skin was burned and sores opened up, her neck straining for air, only to be poisoned a second later. 

“Useless, bloodsucker,” Wednesday spat, stomping on Yoko’s stomach. A sharp crack echoed and Wednesday was delighted to hear a rib brake. 

She crouched drown, driving the stake a mere inch from Yoko’s heart. 

“You do not touch what is mine,” she spat again, her stake driving into her repeatedly, missing by an inch. 

“I don’t—“ Yoko gasped, hoping to save herself. 

“LIAR!” Wednesday shouted, diving the stake into her stomach and twisting it. 

Blood gurgled out of Yoko’s mouth, her back arching upwards. 

Wednesday leaned down into Yoko’s ear, stabbing her once again near her heart. 

“She is mine. You are beneath her.” Pure venom erupted from Wednesday. 

She cracked the stake up, driving it into Yoko’s heart. Wednesday panted, leaning back on her knees. She watched with glee as Yoko’s body disintegrated, burning into ash. At least vampires were easy to kill. 

Wednesday picked up her stake. Tilting her neck to the left, she heard it pop and repeated the action. 

“Thing, get the broom.”

Thing shuffled forward, the tall broom too much for him. Wednesday took it, sweeping the vampire remains.

“Nothing like a good murder, hm, Thing?”

He tapped, some ash flying up. 

“Get out of her, I don’t wish for you to smell like garlic and cheap perfume.”

She tossed the bloody gloves into the trash bag, and replaced them with a new set. Wednesday set the broom down, pulling a record player out of her bag. She gently set it aside, shuffling through her travel collection until she reached Debussy: Cello Sonata in D Minor. She put the record on, breathing in heavily as it rang through her ears. 

Wednesday held the garbage bag, filling it with Yoko’s ashes. She wiped her sweaty forehead, dust sticking to it. 

“Thing, clean up the rest.”

She walked away, browsing the vampire’s trinkets. Wednesday paced to her jewelry box, flicking through the accessories. She gasped, a beautiful black skull ring, sat buried under hideous silver and gold necklaces. Wednesday gently pulled it out, holding it in her fingers. 

Now this would make a lovely gift for you. See, Wednesday had a ritual, she’d kill your suitors, fake their leave and give you a gift from their collections. You’d yet to notice, considering all the beautiful gifts she gave were deemed ugly by the owner. For Rowan, she gave you a blood red ring, he probably received it from a family member, for Davina, it was a simple black hair clip. The others were less important, but she remembered them nonetheless. Whether it was a pining fool from across the room, or someone that had written you a love letter, only to scrap it moments later, Wednesday wouldn’t stand for that. The only person you should be with, is her, she was the only one who could treat you right. No one else understood you the way she did. Wednesday wasn’t going to let people stop her from achieving you. 

Her next plan was set in action when you knocked on the door.

“Yoko, I thought we talked about this. I don’t gotta key, you cant lock the door,” you whined. “I’m so tired, please let me in.”

Wednesday frowned. Were there nights she didn’t let you in? She stood behind the door, opening it. 

You walked through, glancing at Yoko’s bed. 

“Yoko?” You called out, shuffling forward. You took note of the odd cello music. Classical was definitely not one of Yoko’s genres. 

You closed the door, and Wednesday smashed a grenade in your face. Unfortunately, you weren’t like other vampires. Garlic wouldn’t affect you, but she knew vervain would.

You hissed, eyes burning. “Who’s there?” You cried out, the pain only getting worse. You tumbled down to the floor. 

Wednesday crouched down to your level, cupping your jaw. You breathed heavily, still not understanding what was happening. 

“Non mi diverto nel tuo dolore. Mi dispiace molto, ma deve essere fatto, amore mio,” Wednesday whispered. 

You whimpered, only one person spoke to you in Italian. 

“What did you do with Yoko?” You cried, rejecting her hand. 

Wednesday seethed. She knew you’d be upset, but couldn’t you see? This was for you. All of it. 

“I killed that useless bimbo. I had to.”

A sob racked through you, your eyes still clamped shut. You scrambled back again, hitting Yoko’s bed.

“You didn’t have to,” you cried, hugging your knees. 

Wednesday walked over to you. She lifted your head up, wincing at the damage. Your eyes were bright red, bubbling and oozing. 

“Mio cuore,” Wednesday whispered. She straightened your legs, sitting down on your thighs. Gently, she brushed back your hair, trying to remove it from your tear-soaked cheeks. 

You continued crying, wishing she’d just go away, but she wouldn’t. You hated yourself because in some twisted, screwed up way, Wednesdays sweet nothings calmed you down. She was a murderer, she killed Yoko ruthlessly, and vervained you, so why did you feel for her? 

“La mia amata, this is going to cause you pain, okay? It’s going to be alright though.”

Wednesday kissed your forehead, raking her hand through your hair. Then, her hand pulled back and tied something around your wrist. 

You screamed out in pain, only to be muffled. She had restrained your hands with vervain-soaked cloth, and tied another one around your mouth.

Your eyes darted open and you lurched forward. The restraints burned your mouth and wrists. Wednesday cupped your face again, placing delicate kisses on your head. 

She shushed you softly, one of her hands supporting your neck as you sobbed. Your breathing became labored and you could only focus on the pain. Your hands felt numb, wrists burning and screaming for release.

Every breath you took scorched your nose and seared your tongue. Your eyes clamped shut, the tears only increasing.

Wednesday hushed you once again, asking you questions. They all just faded away, the pain drowning them out. She leaned in close to your ear. 

“It’s okay. Breathe.” 

You followed her instructions, her words grounding you. The pain trickled into the background, and you let her voice guide you. 

“Good girl,” she husked out. 

You took in another breath with her, shaking. 

“That’s it.” 

Your eyes flickered open, meeting her dark face. You wondered how she could see when the lights were off, but you shoved that aside. You focused on her touch, her breaths, her weight on your thighs. You breathed in deeply again.

“I don’t want to tie up your legs.”

You stiffened, the last thing you wanted right now was more vervain coursing through your veins. Wednesday quickly hushed you. 

“I’m not going to, but you must promise me something.”

You nodded.

“Do not, under any circumstance, run away from me. I’ve waited too long for this moment.” Her voice faded into a whisper as her sentence closed, and you shivered. 

“Do you agree to my terms?”

You nodded your head. 

“Good,” she whispered. 

Slowly Wednesday got off you. The cold enveloped you, and you greedily missed her warmth. You were sick, you thought. This psycho murdered your friend, and here you were, pining. Disgusting. 

You breathed in again, the vervain killing you every time. 

You were too wrapped up in your head, that you hadn’t even notice Wednesday packing up some of your belongings. 

Your eyes darted around the room, her dark figuring jumping all over the place. You wanted to ask her what she was doing, but the sizzling in your mouth wasn’t worth it. 

You breathed in shakily, gaining courage. You chomped downwards, your hands spreading apart, and an involuntary scream racked through you. Wednesday rushed over to you, trying to figure out what you were doing. You clamped your mouth down again, and tried to pull the restraints off. 

“Hey! No, no, no,” she yelled. 

There wasn’t anything Wednesday could do though, she watched as you dropped down. You made yourself pass out from the pain, all so you wouldn’t experience this. Wednesday sighed in annoyance.

She cracked the door open, checking the halls. After seeing no one, she walked back over to you. Wednesday grunted as she picked you up, slinging you over her shoulder. She hated doing this, bodies were so heavy and always a pain to carry. Wednesday decided that she’d get the rest of her stuff later, you were more important. 

Wednesday walked back to her dorm, ducking behind pillars and walls when voices were near. She sighed in relief, placing you on her bed. Wednesday carefully undid your binds, tying them to her bedpost so you couldn’t run. She flinched as the sizzle from your skin filled the silent room. 

Wednesday walked back to Yoko’s room, picking up your stash of belongings that she’d packed for you, returning the room as it was. She packed up her other duffel bag, making sure not forget her record player, and walked out. Thing trailed after her. 

“Lurch has been notified to pick us up?”

Thing tapped. 

“He needs to get her before five. No exceptions.”

He tapped again.

“I don’t care about weather, Thing. He will get here, or he’ll go back in the grave where we discovered him.”

Thing scampered off, racing in front of her. 

She reached her dorm once again and let out a breath of relief. Her bags were all packed, no sign of her existence anywhere. Thing did a good job for once. 

Wednesday flicked out her pocket watch, checking the time. 

3:16, the whole ordeal had lasted roughly an hour. Wednesday frowned, her new lowest not at all pleasing. She walked over to you, kissing you on the forehead softly. Wednesday untied your mouth piece and hoisted you against the head board. 

She unsheathed her pocket knife from her boot and flicked it open. Wednesday shrugged off her plastic gloves, drawing blood over the wound she’d gotten previously. It opened easily, barely even closed, and rubbed it against your lips. The scent of blood had you drooling, waking you up instantly. You growled, looking possessed, and took her hand into your mouth. You fought against your restraints, trying to grab her hand for more. You removed your fangs out of her for a moment, trying to lick them off, and Wednesday retracted her hand. She waived it around, watching as you desperately nipped at it. The veins under your eyes turned a deep purple, blood smeared over your mouth. Your shoulders shook as you pulled at the restraints, trying to get free. The headboard would’ve been completely shattered by now if not for the dose of vervain you’d been hit with. As Wednesday observed your behavior, she realized something, you were a ripper. She moved her hand closer, watching as you shot forward and chomped down. Oh, this was glorious. 

The perfect, sweet, charming goodie-two-shoes, was a killer beast. Wednesday knew she had to be careful with you, but an apart of her desperately wanted to ripped to shreds by your pointy fangs.

Wednesday got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. Your groans and snarls were music to her ears as she poked her skin, drawing more blood to taunt you. She cleaned up her hand, wrapping it in bandage. Wednesday took out a small vial and downed it, grimacing at the taste afterwards. That was for the compulsion. She shook, the taste alone not pleasing. Wednesday would usually hide it in her coffee, the flavor weighing it out, but she was running out of time. 

Thing scampered into the bathroom. 

“He’s here? See, it wasn’t too difficult was it?”

Thing tapped. 

“Keep your distance, she’s hungry. Unfortunately for you, you can’t afford to have a chunk missing.” 

He shivered, scampering off to meet Lurch. 

Wednesday walked back up to you. You were crying once again, whimpering against the headboard. Wednesday went to wipe your tears, her red bandage nearing you. Your expression flipped like a dime, immediately going to ripper mode with the drug-like scent overwhelming you. Wednesday whipped her hand back. 

She was quite curious. You’d been around blood before, whether it was other vampires drinking it, or some kid piercing his skin, you’d never had a problem. So why was it one with her? 

“You need to behave,” Wednesday sighed out. 

You snarled, bloody fangs flashing out at her. 

“I will vervain you. This is your only warning,” she sneered. 

You hissed once again, slumping backwards in defeat. 

Wednesday slowly raised her hand, watching as you shivered with restraint. Your jaw clamped, eyes stuck on red. Your fangs pierced through your gums, and you bit into your own mouth to prevent yourself. Wednesday slowly untied your restrains, quickly tying them behind your back, and shoved you off the bed. She leaned into your ear. 

“I stole your daylight ring whilst you slept. Thing has it now. Your only chance is to come with me, willingly, without causing problems. Do you understand? I willfry you.”

You shuddered, nodding hastily. Wednesday kissed the side of your neck and pushed you forward. The vervain burned your skin, but you trudged through it. You didn’t dare make a sound as you walked, the occasional wince was muffled by biting into your tongue. 

Wednesday whispered praises into your ear as you walked down, your bags already taken care of. 

Wednesday knew this facade had to look real, her parents were under the impression that you’d been dating for awhile. She informed you of this, walking down a flight of stairs. 

“Do not say one word to them, Lurch, or any authorities, understood? Don’t worry about your daylight ring, we only do activities during the night. You’ll fit right in.”

Wednesday undid your restraints, and you gingerly rubbed at them. She raised her hand up to your face, and you looked in surprise at her. 

“My bloods laced with vervain, so you’ll be unable to compel, and vulnerable. It’ll keep you in control, and your ripper side should despise it,” she explained.

You nodded, holding her arm. Shakily, you raised it against your mouth. You fangs ripped through her flesh, and you sighed in relief. Her blood was intoxicating if you ignored the sting of vervain, and your ripper side was going feral. The thought of you biting her neck, her shoulders, anywhere on her had you biting harder. You shook the thoughts from your mind, abruptly tearing her wrist away. You turned your back to her, blinking rapidly and heaving.

“Let me see you,” she whispered. 

You shook your head. Getting wrapped up in your thoughts, you began to spiral, your victims faces flashing in your memories. You curled your hand into a fist, hitting the side of you head hard, trying to get them out. Wednesday’s hands shot up, stopping your hand from striking once again.

You clenched your eyes shut, panicking. Wednesday’s cold hands wrapped around your face, squeezing slightly as she wiped some fallen tears. The pressure lassoed you back to reality, your thoughts swimming into the dark basement of your mind. 

Wednesday lowered your head, choosing to place it on her chest. Her loud heartbeat filled your ears, and your breathing settled. You inhaled deeply, shakily releasing it. 

Her hands slowly started scratching the base of your neck, and she hummed quietly.

You focused on her heart again, hearing it pump steadily. Your ears picked up other noises too, her digestive system slowly working, the acid in her stomach bubbling slightly, and the blood coursing through her veins. The blood moving slowly drowned out her heartbeat, the image of you biting into her jugular filled your thoughts. Your fangs pierced out again, your eyes going darker. Clearing your throat hastily, you blinked rapidly. The whiff of lavender reeled you back to her, Wednesday’s presence returning. You sighed out heavily, leaning most of your weight on Wednesday. 

God, you were so tired. Sometimes the thought of staking yourself seemed better than this, but you knew you couldn’t. You wouldn’t give up. Not until you’d served your sentence. 

“Are you ready to go out to the car?” Wednesday quietly asked. You wouldn’t have picked it up if your senses weren’t heightened.

You nodded slowly, raising your head away from her. You gulped, not meeting her eyes. Wednesday may have been a murderous psycho, but you were a cold hearted ripper. It was hypocritical of you to judge her, especially since Wednesday’s never ripped off a head before. Wallowing in self-loathing, you walked of Nevermore’s doors hand in hand with Wednesday.

[wolftoken]

aether ghoul nsfw alphabet

a/n: i am on a fucking roll tonight EHH?? 1600 word sleep token threesome and now this !!!! im incredible everyone tell me how amazing i am. @gravehags come get a snack

• masterlist •

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

attentive and adoring. he’ll check in with you and make sure you’re okay and that you enjoyed yourself. then, he’s off to find something to wipe you down with and some fresh pjs for you. if you want anything, food, a drink, a cuddle, or round 2 he will give you whatever you want.

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

he likes his big strong arms, and his fuzzy chest. but his favourite is probably his hands. he loves the way they look gripping your hips, or when his fingers sink into you and play with you.

he loves your stomach and thighs, he’s obsessed with them. sleeping on your thighs/stomach makes him purr like crazy. he presses kisses all over them, and has left his fair share of bite marks and hickies too. let him lick them and nuzzle his beard against them, please.

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

inside. he definitely has a breeding kink and the thought of cumming deep inside you makes him go wild.

if it’s not inside you he likes it on your thighs or stomach.

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

he totally wants to watch you masturbate. especially if you’re in his bed, getting his sheets all messy with your cum and your scent. he’ll palm himself over his pants and he has to bite his fist to keep from making any noise but you can hear his heavy breathing anyway.

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

he’s had his fair share of partners, ghoul and human. with the siblings of sin it’s always been casual hookups and fwb but with the ghouls he’s definitely got a connection to all of them. but no matter what you are, he loves you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary, mating press, or having you on your stomach with him pressed as close as possible against your back. he just loves the closeness, being able to hold you in his arms and kiss at your neck and shoulders. he loves to press you down, too.

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

he likes to crack a joke to alleviate any pressure or anxiety you might have. he can be serious if you want him to be, but he prefers to keep things light hearted. he wants to see you smile for him so he knows you’re enjoying yourself.

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

he’s got very fuzzy arms, legs, chest, and stomach. he absolutely has a good happy trail. he keeps his pubes trimmed but not shaved completely.

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

he can be romantic if you want, murmuring soft things into your ear and caressing your body lovingly. even if he’s fucking into you with no mercy he could be telling how much he loves you and how much you mean to him. although he usually does prefer to be a little more goofy and save the mushy stuff for after sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

before you got together with him he jacked off to the thought of you so, so much. you’re all he thought about when he was alone.

now that he can have you pretty much any time he/you want, he doesn’t jack off much. unless you’re away and he wants to send you videos of him cumming all over his stomach he’d rather just get off with you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

breeding kink is his biggest one. he gets hard just thinking about cumming inside you. he gets conflicted when he watches it dripping out of you, wanting to fuck it back into you but at the same time just desperate to watch it leak onto the bedsheets and make a mess.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he prefers a soft comfy space like the bed or couch but he’s not opposed to other places. he likes to sneak into the library at night and find a cozy corner to make you fall apart beneath him and he likes the challenge of keeping you quiet in the dead of night so nobody wakes up to the sound of you both.

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

you, in any situation at any time.

but if we’re getting specific, he loves outfits that show off your body. whether it’s tight clothing that highlights your figure or something that shows lots of skin he will adore it. same with lingerie, he will spend ages just worshipping your body and admiring how pretty you look in lace or silk or whatever you chose to show him.

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

not really into hurting you beyond spanking, choking, and biting. it makes him feel guilty even if it’s something you want him to do. he just doesn’t like it.

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

KING OF ORAL he will go down on you all night. for him, oral isn’t just foreplay. he will be burying his head between your thighs until you beg him to stop. he can’t get enough of the taste and smell of you and the way you shake and whine for him.

and when you go down on him? he’s gone. his pupils are practically heart-shaped and his head is tipped back in ecstasy. he’ll have a hand on your cheek, softly stroking his thumb against you while he admires the way his thick cock disappears in between your lips.

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

whatever you need, he’ll do it. but if you want him to set the pace he’ll go slow and hard and deep. it’ll be intense and loving but when he’s about to cum he’ll go faster with shallow thrusts. if he’s been worked up all day he might grab your thighs and drag you down on his cock fast and hard.

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

he prefers to take him time when fucking you, but if you’re in need of some relief he’s happy to use his hands or mouth on you. although good luck prying him off you when he’s going down on you.

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

he’s down to experiment with you as long as it’s thoroughly talked about beforehand. some thing he’d like to try is exhibitionism, but probably just with one other ghoul, like Dewdrop. he’d like for him to walk in and see how you fall apart underneath the bigger ghoul.

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

he’s a ghoul, so he can go for way longer than any human. he’s also an older, experienced ghoul so he could probably go until your limbs don’t work and your brain has leaked out of you. but he’s happy to stop whenever you need - just because he can do all day long and then some doesn’t mean he needs to.

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

he’s got some soft ropes and a few different vibrators. he’s happy to see your collection and wants to learn how to use any that he doesn’t have experience with. use his vibrators on him and he’ll be putty in your hands.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’ll tease to a point, but he gets too excited to take it very far. he enjoys seeing you cum way more than he enjoys tormenting you but if you want to be teased he will do whatever you need, but you have to know it counts as teasing him, too.

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

he will roar. like actually ROAR if he cums especially hard. it’s usually if you’ve been away for a little bit and he’s worked himself up so much since you’ve been gone that he goes a little feral finally getting to have you.

other than that, he won’t he especially loud but he’ll make plenty of noise. mostly grunting and little growls, whimpers when he gets too sensitive from fucking his cum into you.

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

one of his favourite sexual things to do with you is to lay down with you on your back between his legs while he has one hand down your pants and the other stroking over your chest and/or neck. he loves seeing you writhing in pleasure on top of him and the feeling of you grinding down against his dick.

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

arizona iced tea can. enough said

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

pretty high but he can hide it well. he’s up for it pretty much whenever you need him, and you can get in him in the mood very quickly even if he’s not.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

depends on how long you’ve been going. if it’s one or two rounds he’ll be awake for a while and he’ll spend the time taking care of you if you need it. if it was an all day kind of activity he will be sleepy afterwards but he’ll make sure you’re comfortable and happy before he falls asleep with you in his arms.

[saotoru]

10.31: GFD—GENTLE FEMDOM + ALL LEONS

happy halloween!! thank you to everyone who thirsted with me this month <3 here’s my last drabble on how all the different versions of leon like being dommed ♡

RE2R- PRAISE

of all the ways he loves being dommed, re2 leon has such a soft spot for being praised! nothing makes him squirm quite nearly much as hearing that he’s being so so good for you does. he needs you to praise him when he cums, babbles endlessly while he fucks his load into you, begging you to please tell me im your good boy, only yours, pleasepleaseplease i love you so much <3

RE4R- FREE USE

re4r leon has a terrible free use kink,,, he’s so tired of having to think and make decisions for himself, when nothing in his life has gone as planned; but as your personal free use boyfriend, he never has to! it’s actually embarrassing how much he fantasizes about being forced onto his knees by you, having his face fucked while his hands are bound behind his back, that he actually ends up being the one to ask you to please just use him </3 he just wants nothing more in the world than your pleasure be his only concern ♡

RE6- BITING

re6 has a thing for feeling your teeth on him !! he’s embarrassed about how loud he whines when your teeth sink into his lip while you kiss, when he feels your canines on his jugular, when you graze his tip while you suck him <3 he turns sorta brainless, mouth dropping open into an o and letting out little gasps and asks you to god please do that again <3

VENDETTA- ORGASM CONTROL

vendetta feels bitter about how so much of his life has been out of his control; that’s why he loves to be completely at your mercy, letting you take care of him and make all the decisions for him, like when he gets to cum! when it starts to feel too good, when he’s about to cum after thrusting into your gooey cunt for so long, he’ll stop because you didn’t give him permission to cum yet! pulls his cock out and rests it on your tummy and watches it throb while his orgasm ebbs away, but it’s okay because he loves bring controlled by you <3

INFINITE DARKNESS- FACE SITTING

id leon firmly believes there’s no better pleasure than feeling your full weight on his face. he’s so shameless about it too, draping himself over you while you sleep, waking you up with gentle touches, only for him to ask you to please sit on his face,,, he’ll mumble about how he’s so sorry for waking you up, for jerking off all night thinking about you grinding on his tongue to the point that he couldn’t wait any longer because he needs to taste you right now <3

DEATH ISLAND- OVERSTIM

di leon wishes he didn’t like overstim as much as he does! the palm of your hand circling over sensitive tip so so fast while he’s cumming hurts, it hurts so bad but he can’t get enough. bucking his hips, literally pleading for you to stop, yet makes no moves to get away from you. what’s worse is your teasing—how if he really wanted to stop he’d say the safe word, but no, he’s too much of a pain slut to stop, hm? ohh it makes him frustrated that you’re right and all he can do is moan and take it <3

[darlingsfandom]

Calling Steve daddy taunting him as a joke until he yanks you into the bathroom and demands you say it again as he finger fucks you so good and talks you through it

do you live in my brain??

Gif credit: whoever made it/google images .

It was a joke, really it was! You were sitting with Steve and the rest of the group was sitting with you guys at the table in the corner of the back of the bar. You may or may not have snuck a few drinks of Nancy's fruity little drink. As the night went on Robin was talking about how she was promoted at Family Video and Nancy was talking about how she's having a hard time with English class in college. You already knew what Eddie and Steve were up to since you three lived together, well you and Steve lived together Eddie was the roommate who left his dirty dishes in the sink without rinsing them.

"Wow sounds like mommy and daddy huh!" Robin snorted as she elbowed you a little while looking at Eddie who was holding his beer in his hand.

"I mean Steve is Daddy!" Your cheeks flushed red as Steve gave you a daring glance. No one said a word for about five minutes before Nancy got up to order another round of drinks. You felt bad because now everyone was a bit weirded out and as soon as everyone finished that round. Eddie slapped Steve on the shoulder and said he'd see you guys at home. Both you and Steve sat there quietly for a minute before you got up to pay the tab, upon paying and giving a nice tip , you felt your arm being pulled and your feet scrapping slightly across the floor only to realize it was Steve dragging you into the bathroom.

You back was slammed against the stall as Steve gripped his hands around your neck. You loud gasp left your lips as he kissed you hard pushing his hands deeper into your neck only to let go suddenly allowing the breathe inside of you to stabilize again. "Daddy! You really had to tell all our friends about it?" Steve looked at you sternly as you felt small beneath him.

"I'm sorry but it's true! You're daddy and you know it. You're my daddy! And I'm your good girl !" You stomped your foot at him and Steve wasn't having it. He yanked your skirt down to your ankles and grinned when he noticed the wet spot on your panties.

"Good girls don't get this wet when they're in public with their friends." Steve ran his finger tips over the wet patch before pulling your panties down and sliding one finger inside of your wet folds. "And they sure as hell don't put their daddy on display like that when it's a secret!" Steve bit your neck hard before sliding in another finger. He gave you a second to adjust before he scissored you open and plunged his thick fingers in and out of you.

"Fuck fuck! I'm sorry okay! I love you! I love that your my daddy and I just people to know! Okay ! Fuck!" You whined and squirmed around before Steve wrapped his hand around your throat again giving it a tight squeeze. Your eyes rolled back into your head at the feeling of Steve's palm rubbing against your clit, fingers working over you and his warm lips against your own.

"I know you are sweet girl, but it was our secret!" He bit your bottom lip taking no mercy on how your pussy was aching from the roughness he was giving you. Your thighs started twitching as you gripped his wrist.

"Steve Steve STEVE! I .. fuck .. DADDY! Please!" You cried out making it echo off the dirty walls. "I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna fucking cum!"

"Do it baby! Be my good little whore that you are and fucking soak the floor! I know ya can!" Steve squeezed your mouth open to spit in it while you rubbed your clit with his thumb.

"Daddy. Daddy DADDY!! IM FUCK, FUCK IM CUM... OH MY GOD!" Your orgasm hit hard as Steve pulled his fingers out to focus on the fact you were gushing all over the floor and his shoes. "I CANT,STOP!" You were shaking as your stood there squirting looking at Steve who stood there with a grin on his face.

"Good. Look what a mess you made!" He yanked your hair and pulled you down until you were in a squatting position. "I should make you lick it off my shoe for being such a brat.... but this floor is more disgusting now... so I'll just have to let you walk out of here with a soaked ousts and no panties." Steve fixed you up a little before shoving you out the door and walking down the hall and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as you walked with Steve back outside to go home.

[letters-from-dekarios]

midnight tears

summary: stricken with grief, anxiety, and the shadow of his former, prouder, self, gale takes to seeking comfort in the swift end he dreamt up many moons ago. tav finds him before it’s too late.

or: gale considers exploding and tav stops him

word count: 2.1k

tags: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: this story contains themes of self-harm/suicide. it is not my intention to trigger or harm anyone who comes across this story, but, rather, to share a side of a fictional character I’ve taken a liking to. please do NOT read if these themes, discussed in a reasonable concept of detail, could potentially harm your mental state.

other tags include; gn!tav, act 1 storyline, major gale angst, im still a part of the mystra hate club

He had it all planned out. Written down. He had a failsafe in case things went wrong. Timed it down to the letter, against all the knowledge he had on the orb within him. If worse came to worst, Gods he hoped it wouldn’t, he knew precisely how he wanted to go.

When he first gathered the understanding of the Netherese orb within him, its desperate need to consume the Weave, he was confused. Which was a rare occurrence for him. He was always so knowledgeable that confusion rarely ever happened. He’d question things and soon find an answer, but with this.. no, this was different.

In his quest to prove his love, he only proved his egotism. Something he had tried to stay away from and here he was, indulging in it. How proud was he that he could be able to love the Goddess and Mother of all magic and still be unhappy? Still try to attain more power, more love? How dare he, a mortal man, try and capture the Weave for himself?

Was it really out of love, or was the idea of power and the concept of Godhood too tempting to be toyed with? How did he get this far? How did he manage to do it in the first place, if not by his handling of the Weave itself? He had all the power he could hold and still wanted more.

He was the epitome of a power-hungry, egotistical, jackass.

He deserved the consequences he now had to suffer. He could blame no one other than himself for Mystra’s decision to make him live with it. She could have, very well, killed him right there. But she, by her merciful graces (or what the larger part of Gale perceived as merciful), allowed him to live. He would sacrifice himself to right the wrongs he had created.

As he lay in his tent, one uneventful night, staring at the stars, he pondered the plan he had in his back pocket. He had it figured out for years now, so it wasn’t a question, but he questioned the actual statistics of it. He pulled out a little vial from his bag and turned it over in his hands, reading the neat handwriting over and over again. Midnight tears. A poison whose consequences would only take effect at midnight exactly. If he consumed it in the early morning, traveled far into the Underdark and waited, he would avoid injuring any innocents in the process.

It was a desirable end to his misery, he concluded. If he woke before Tav and the rest of the group, he could be gone before they arose. He doubted they would notice he was missing.

He knew Tav had accepted him for his faults, his lies, and everything else with him. They had encouraged him to stay traveling with them, but he didn’t feel as though he deserved to.

He wondered what the poison would feel like, how it would taste. The seller who gave it to him was vague on the details, and Gale didn’t know if he preferred that or the horrid truth of receiving every component.

He set the poison to the side and conjured a dagger in his hands. He twisted it between his palms, considering the other option to poison. It wasn’t the preferred way to go, but it was his failsafe in case the poison went bad. All he had to do was plunge the magic knife into his chest, and off he would go.

It wouldn’t be the prettiest, he knew that, but it would be better than nothing. His blood pooling out onto the ground, pained cries filling the air- he’d apologize again and again to Mystra, his goddess, his first love, telling her how sorry he was for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

His mouth would taste like copper, eventually, and by then he’d begin slipping away. His body would go numb, he figured, and then his hands would drop. He would fall onto his back, staring up into the vast sky of Faerún, before everything disappeared.

He had a letter written already for his soul to pass on to Tav and the others. He’d apologize to them, too, for letting them down. For not becoming the man they hoped and wished he was. For everything. There wasn’t enough time in all the realms where he could be forgiven for his mistakes.

The longer he sat there, with his thoughts, the more he twisted the knife between his hands. The more he sunk into himself, the harder he pushed it in his palms.

He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until he felt his hands become oddly slippery. He sat up and looked down, his eyes going wide as he saw the blood trickling down his fingers. His heart began to race, his chest becoming tight. He couldn’t live with himself if he died now and took out all his companions with him. Though, maybe he was just being dramatic.

The knife in his hands disappeared and he looked clearer at the cuts on his hands, cursing himself under his breath. He grabbed a nearby carafe of water and poured it over his hands, hissing in pain while they stung.

“Goddess forgive me..” he sighed under his breath, looking around for some cloth he could use to cover his wounds. Then, during one of their battles, he could play it off as an injury received. Why did he do this?

Why was he like this?

He could never know the answer to those questions. The questions that pulled at his heart and broke down in his mind- they had no real answers, they never were able to be answered to begin with. In all his years living as some high, extraordinary Chosen of Mystra, he never found the courage to become insightful of himself. He never understood why he was never enough, or why he couldn’t do things right. Why did he feel the need to lie to cover his imperfections? Why was he so scared that if he messed up, he would never be exonerated?

Mystra had planted the seed in his head that he was not worthy of forgiveness, that death would be the only thing to balance his scale. It got to him. Terribly so, Gale began to believe that she was right. After all, how could one commit such a sin against a God and not be considered unworthy of their forgiveness? He had tried to usurp her authority, whether for love or pride, and had to deal with her wrath. She had every right to not pardon him. She had every right to make him feel how he did.

Though he was rather calm in these situations, no matter what was happening around him, right now he was panicking. His breath picked up, his chest rising and falling faster by the second. Why couldn’t he find a damn cloth?

“Gale?” Tav’s sweet voice broke him from his thoughts. Was he crying, too? He couldn’t tell anymore. He was a whole mess and a half.

“Tav-“

“What happened?” The way they spoke, so much concern in their voice, he couldn’t help but be ashamed of what he had become. How could he sit here, hurting, and hurt others around him? The look Tav gave him was enough to break a thousand realms over again, and he felt awful for making them deal with him.

“I- I don’t know…” he replied, the panic in his eyes as evident as ever.

Tav disappeared for a moment but quickly returned with more water and some towels. They sat down beside him, sighing softly as they took his hands in their own.

He winced, pulling back for a moment before Tav eased him, gently cleaning the wounds.

“Gale..” they started again, and he looked away, ignoring the wounds on his hands. Gods, he was so stupid.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he replied, taking a breath as Tav made sure his hands were okay.

“Gale,” they repeated, glancing down suspiciously at the poison beside him.

He looked to his side, sighed, and then opened his mouth to speak. How could he even begin?

“You promised me,” Tav sighed, waving their hands and muttering a small healing spell. Soon enough, the wounds closed, and his hands were clean again.

“I wasn’t going to-“

“Gale-“ they sighed again, running a hand over their face. “Why do you even have it? We discussed this. It won’t come down to that.”

“We don’t know that.”

Tav looked at him with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. Hurt laced their words, how could Gale be so cruel to himself?

“It’s for safety.”

“Safety of who, Gale? What happens if you accidentally drink it instead of a healing potion? What happens if it ends up in your food?” They asked, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I wouldn’t do that-“

“Oh, come on. We’ve all done it. These damn bottles look so alike! I hardly know the difference between a feather fall and an angelic sleep spell, Gale. It could happen to any of us.” Tav replied, their words rather sharp. Gale flinched, looking down at his fully restored hands.

“I cannot live on if I do not have a clear source of escape should things turn the wrong way,” Gale replied, honest-hearted words clashing with the things he was actually thinking. Yes, he felt that way, but did he think that way? Hardly.

Truth be told, Gale was angry with Mystra. At least, a small part of him was. He had done everything to love her, to prove his love, going so far as bestowing this upon himself, and instead of helping, she cast him aside. If she truly loved him as she claimed to, would he even be here? Why had she left him like this- surely death would have been much kinder. This was just plain cruel.

“I don’t want you to think like that, Gale. I want you with me, with our party, for as long as you can be. You’re supposed to stay by our side, not have a plan to leave us,” Tav took his hands in their own again, looking him in the eye. “Please, Gale. I want you to live. I need you to live. Planning your demise does no one any good, especially not yourself.”

“Mystra-“

“Enough about Mystra!” Tav dropped his hands, frustrated now. “We know. I know. Why are you so devoted to her when all she’s done is bring you pain? It makes no sense to me that you would continue to suffer in her name. You need to be free, Gale. Netherese orb or not, and whether you like it or not, you’re in this tadpole journey with us. I don’t give two damns what Mystra thinks or feels. This is about you, not her.”

Those words struck him. Yes, that tiny part of him agreed, Mystra was harsh for leaving him like this. She was rather harsh to toss him aside after doting on him and his abilities for so many years. But the larger part of him outweighed that piece, and he could only help but feel guilty for thinking such things about her.

“But-“

“No buts, Gale. You’re going to stop this stupid ‘I’m going to blow myself up for Mystra’ nonsense. I know it’s a part of who you are, we all have things we have to deal with, but please. For me, for all of us, you can’t go on with this weight on your back.” Tav sighed, taking his face gently in their hands and wiping away his tears.

“I’ll try to do better, I promise,” Gale replied, letting his face rest in their soothing hands. Why did he always hurt those that he loved? He couldn’t answer that. He never could.

“The next time you start contemplating your death, please, Gale, talk to me. Talk to any of us! We all want to be here for you, and I know I would be so incredibly miserable if we lost you,” They looked into his eyes and pulled his head against their own. Their foreheads touched, Gale’s eyes shut, and for a brief moment, he felt at peace. No matter what happened he knew he had friends to rely on. And for that, he was thankful.

Tav made sure he was alright before returning to the campfire to rest. He tucked the poison into the furthest part of his bag, laid himself to rest, and let his mind slip away into the night.

He would keep the poison and the letter handy, just in case, and it would take quite some time for him to be fully able to talk to the others when he was feeling like exploding, but it would happen. Eventually, he would be okay. Eventually, he would find peace.

[mr-bas00nist]

VENOM SNAKE SMUT I’M BEGGING. LITERALLY ANYTHING WE HAVE MERE CRUMBS ON THIS SITE 🙏🙏

I GOTCHU. I KIND OF WENT A LITTLE CRAZY WITH THIS BECAUSE I SAW NO VILLAN READER AND NO MASC BODIED/MALE READER OR ANYTHING UNDER THE MSG SECTION. DO BETTER PEOPLE DAMN💀. No pronouns btw you just have a dick lol.

A Dead Man Walking

Venom Snake x Dom! Enemy! AMAB! Reader

Cw: Blood, slapping, blowjobs, throat fucking, degradation and slight masochism

Snake knew you had him in a box. He was going in for the kill on you when he thought he saw a moment of weakness. He should’ve known damn well you weren’t that careless. You were meticulous and conscientious about everything. He couldn’t help but admire that. Admiration wasn’t going to help him out now though.

Your soldiers were currently questioning him in the interrogation torture room. You and him have been enemies for years now just as you’ve been an enemy to the public. As two of your soldiers continued to yell at him and belittle him you decided to step in.

The familiar sound of snake skin dress shoes was heard. Snake looked over to see you in a fancy suit and fancy clothing. It was obvious you were trying to make him feel inferior. You walk closer to him as you cross your arms. You look down at him, he was all tied up in the chair at your mercy.

“So, snake,” you begin to speak walking around the dimly lit room. You look over to your soldiers nodding at them. They take the message as they leave the room. You turn your attention back tot he tied up. “How have you been bud?” You ask with a smug smile. “You know you really did put up a good figh-“

“Don’t patronize me.” He cuts you off with an eye roll. You hum unamused as you look down at him with a superior look. You pull up a chair so you can sit in front of him as you eye him up. “I’m gonna hurt you real bad snake, you know that right?” You smirk as the man can do nothing but glare. “Im not saying anything.” He retorts with determination written on his face.

You nod rolling your eyes, “I thought as much.” You stand up as you walk closer to him. You grab his face roughly as you glare at him taking in every feature. “Here’s how this is going to work, i can either blow up your base and kill everyone on it or you can listen to me.” You say cruelly with a smile.

“But, there’s something I want from you, and it’s not intel believe it or not.” You smirk a little bit as he raises an eyebrow. You touch his lips as you gently rub it. He looks up at you confused. “I want your…. Services per say.” You clasp your hands together as you smile softly. “I’m pent up, it’s hard being a general, you can understand that can’t you?”

So snake agreed to it, he’d rather give you a blowjob then have his comrades all die. He was currently on his knees looking up at you as you sat in a chair. He had a serious look on his face but he couldn’t deny the bubbling excitement in his stomach. You gently touch his face feeling his trimmed beard against your palm. You then slap him across the face with a laugh.

There was no reaction as usual which made you want to do it again. You slapped him again as he glared up at you. “I can’t wait to see you cry sweetheart.” You gently touch his cheek which was a nice contrast to the slapping earlier. You go to unbuckle your belt as you take your cock out. You give a few pumps to it as it hits him in the face.

“Not gonna suck itself doll face.” You tease him as you put it on his lips. He sighs as he gives an experimental lick to the tip. He than gently puts the tip in his mouth as he begins to suck on it softly. Looking up at you with piercing blue eyes. You let out soft groans as he continues to suck on your tip. You wanted more though, you craved it. You grabbed the back of his head as you shoved him down.

His eyes widened as he choked on your huge length. He immediately pulls off as he coughed. You backhanded him again. “Did I tell you that you could stop sucking sweetheart?” You shoved him back on your cock again as you begin to thrust deep into his throat. He holds your thighs as he tries to pull of but your grip was to strong.

As much as he hated to admit it, this felt, good. Being at your mercy, usually he’s the one in charge with everything. It was nice being controlled to be fair. You began to reach your breaking point as tears begin to prick his eyes at your rough treatment. You look down to see him choking and gagging as he begins to deep throat you on his own.

Your eyes widen at the sight as you smile. You pull your hands away as he continues on his own. “Holy shit your enjoying this?” You laugh as you watch him closely. He enjoyed your humiliation for some reason. He’s never felt anything like this before, the way you degrade him and rough him up gets him so turned on it’s not even funny.

“Never thought you’d be into this snake.” You moan. His technique got better as he continued to pleasure you. All you heard was slick sounds of spit a few heavy pants and muffled groans from snake. This was probably the best head you’ve ever gotten in years. Maybe it felt better because you haven’t gotten off in so long but you couldn’t find it in yourself to even question it.

Your pace quicken as you grab his brown hair forcing him down as he grips your hips tightly. “Your fucking disgusting you know that? Sucking your enemies dick without a fight. That’s pathetic you know that?” You tease through moans and growls. He doesn’t answer only looking up at you with wet blue eyes.

With a few final thrusts into his warm throat you pull his head down to the base of your cock as you cum deep in his throat with a snarl. After holding him there for a little bit you remove your hands from his hair. He quickly pulls off as he begins coughing a bit. A little bit of cum dropped down his lips. You laughed at the site as you grabbed his chin.

“Open.” You demanded as he opened his mouth. He swallowed every drop, you were impressed. “Not bad snake.” You smile as you pat his head. “You know, even though we’re enemies doesn’t mean this can’t be more than a one time thing.” You smirk as you look down at him. He rolls his eyes.

“Your lucky I didn’t bite your dick off.”

[cocksucker6000]

Hi it’s me againnnn, sorry for replying so late ;-; Sub reader please! Ty

this could have been an email kaeya x knight reader

dom kaeya + sub m reader

cw ;; slight exhibitionism, light cnc, not actually modern au, bathroom sex, reader cums early, kinda rushed lol

a/n ;; anon requested cnc + kaeya and sub reader, im soso sorry about how long this took ,, i hope u like it <3

it felt like every word from jean’s mouth grew fuzzier and fuzzier. how were you expected to focus with the cavalry captain’s hand snaking further up your thigh with every passing second?

you wondered to yourself, what about this meeting was so pressing that you had to be there? and why couldn’t your boyfriend just wait to toy with you? you bit the inside of your mouth to suppress a tiny whimper when his thumb began to caress the inside of your thigh, his hand growing dangerously close to your crotch and, your dangerously hardening dick.

instead of giving any reaction that might give the two of you away, you whipped your head around to give the captain a look—“you’d better stop that.”—he knew exactly what it read.

he only returned with a gaze just as sly, “and you’d better keep quiet,” is what his eyes read.

with a small grumble, you turned away, your strife interrupted by the feeling of a gloved hand completely cupping your crotch. you nearly flinched, bringing a hand up to cover the bottom half of your flushed face.

“(name)?”

you could hardly hear the concerned voice of the acting grand master over your own thoughts.

“(name)? are you feeling alright?”

so the woman did have some mercy.

you promptly decided to take advantage of the opportunity, placing both of your palms flat against the table. kaeya removed his hand. “please excuse me for a moment.”

you rushed to the restroom in the knight’s headquarters as quick as you could still seem presentable. you stood at the counter, hands placed on the edge with a deep breath as soon as the door has been locked. now, the problem—the growing heat in your abdomen and tent in your pants. you sighed, shaky and desperate. if only you could feel his hands again, that man knew exactly what he did to you and you weren’t sure if you hated it or loved it.

suddenly, a knock on the door. you jumped. a knock on the door? who could be—

“doll, it’s me.”

oh.

oh.

with a sigh, you unlocked the door, rushing him inside the one-holer restroom. you leaned on the counter, you looked at him with an annoyed gaze. “i hope you’re here to help me, because—“

he grabbed your chin, roughly pressing his lips against your’s, pulling away softly with a smile. “mhm. i’m here to apologize.”

you flushed. he slid a hand up your shirt to massage your hip, eliciting a satisfied sigh from your mouth as he began to work his lips on your neck. your fingers tangled themselves in his cyan locks, your grip tightening when he slid a thigh between your’s. “you’ve never known to keep your hands to yourself, captain.”

you felt him grin against your neck, rubbing his thigh against your cock. “and it’s only ever gotten me rewarded.” his hand on your hip snaked down to cup your dick again, palming at with much more vigor than he did under the table.

“hhaah-! k-kaeya, you ass, i don’t want to soil these further…” he removed his hand, coaxing a tiny whine from your mouth.

“awh, that’s a shame. i would’ve liked to see you all embarrassed.” he stood to admire his work—your hand covering your red face, shirt all messed up to reveal red marks sucked into your skin, and cock throbbing in your pants. it made a sense of pride bloom in his chest as he leaned down to press a kiss to your jawline, pulling away afterwards and dropping to his knees. “heheh, i’m sorry, baby boy. i wouldn’t do that.”

“nnggh, just hurry up, would you?” he began to get your slacks off.

“as you wish.” the captain mused at the way your dick nearly sprung out of your pants, wrapping a hand around it and licking off the bit of precum that had beaded on the tip.

as soon as he licked a strip up the side, holding a hand at your base, you couldn’t hold back, bucking into his touch as you came unprompted. your boyfriend’s face was nothing short of surprised at first as it was coated in ropes of white, your shoulders slumped and your hand moved to cover more of your face in shame. “i-i’m sorry, i—i didn’t meant to…”

kaeya picked up some of your release with his thumb, letting it catch on his lips before letting it reach his tongue, letting out a chuckle. “baby, it’s okay. don’t apologize.” he stood. “once i get cleaned up, here,”

“we certainly aren’t done.”

[funsize-cenobites]

Mihawk-Brain-Eating-Syndrome has seized me with such a gorilla grip I am losing my fucking mind so I guess we're doing this.

The post that started this whole train of thought came from @manofbeskar who's Mihawk thoughts, Mishanks heartwrenchers, and absolutely gorgeous art are so inspiring I feel chewing-on-the-doorframe feral every time I check their blog.

So.. thoughts of the day that Im just tossing into the void to get it out of me because otherwise it will fester inside me and make me ill:

Mihawk has a complicated relationship with vivre cards. Despite his best efforts to keep the world and everyone in it at arm and Yoru length he does manage to keep collecting bits of them though.

Not many nowadays of course, its a rather intimate affair after all; to have someone give you a literal piece of their life so that you may always find them no matter where in the wide seas you may be and that you'll be the first to know should they leave that world entirely. Far too intimate. It feels too obvious, too heavy handed, too much like handing him your heart and asking him to carry it. Such a thing is heavier than any blade and all the bloody deeds he can never truly wipe from the steel.

Its gentle and vulnerable and human, all the things hes convinced he can play at but never truly be again.

But I imagine at the start of his journey he was a touch more open, perhaps accepting his first from a mentor as a parting of ways. Though he didn't yet have one of his own to offer in return. Strange how a simple piece of card in his palm could feel like an open door. Always there, inviting him home. Always there, until it wasn't.

He will never forget the first time he felt one burning away into nothing in his hands. It went up so quick.. he had no idea it could take less than a minute to burn a home.

Then perhaps he found a crew, a more tangible place to nest and he suddenly had more vivre cards than he could tuck away on his person in a timely manner. Perhaps it became a ritual of sorts each morning, a part of his routine to tuck each one away. The captain, vice captain, and the rest of the specialists lining the inner band of his hat while the rest of the crew were individually squirreled away. A meditation, grounding and quiet. He would use it to remind himself of his role as the crew's swordsman, as their protector.

How could he forget the sharp sear of each individual card burning away, stuck close to his skin by waterlogged clothing as he dragged himself ashore gasping and choking on sea and blood and smoke. Having been left by marines that assumed he would drown because- perhaps pointed out by one that had deceived him, made Mihawk believe they were his friend to be led back to his family:

"No freak like that could exist without having eaten the devil's fruit."

How could he forget the embers escaping, dancing in the evening gloam like fireflies swarming around him? There were so many.. now there are none and gods he's been so empty since. How could such a small piece of paper take so much of him? To kill a man with a blade, even butchering him inelegantly, would be a greater mercy so long as he was dead.

Nowadays Mihawk knows better. Knows better than to trust or be trusted. That blades might chip and tarnish but they dont burn, never completely.

Yoru hums and sings in his hands as he wields her and she does not feel like home.. but she feels solid and eternal and cold. She will never burn. Her weight is bearable.

Impersonal.

Professional.

Yoru makes death an art in his hands. She is the brush not the paper, spattering fireflies over a night sky.

. . .

For years after, he kept far from others. Deciding to never get so close to anyone ever again. Safe in the knowledge he would never feel the burning sting of loss nor the cold cut of betrayal so acutely. Trust was a double edged blade, perhaps the only one he truly couldn't handle.

He was no protector.. so he wouldn't try to be.

Instead Mihawk would hunt. Chasing the marines mercilessly. Cutting a bloody path through their ranks and burning their fucking fortresses to the ground. At first they spoke of him as an insane lone swordsman, then a one man army, then a monster, a demon. The relentless yellow eyed freak that stalked the seas and nightmares of future vice admirals.

He systematically killed all those that harmed him. A shadow over the shore, a rogue wave swallowing their ships, a curse of vengeance come to reap. He destroyed all the records of his crew that he could get his hands on. If he must be cursed to slowly forget them over time, then the world government didnt deserve their memory either.

And so on it went for a time. Long enough for the hunt to lose its luster. Slaughtering sheep by the herd in search of a rare wolf.

Mihawk had almost forcibly forgotten about Vivre cards as a concept. His own remained untouched, never moving from where he hid it. He had no friends, no family, no nakama. Only a dwindling list of worthy foes to test himself against.

Until the day the king of pirates died. Until their golden age truly began.

Until he met Shanks, who held out a hand and asked him to step out of the monochrome past and into a thousand possible vibrant futures. Ones of lush reds and glittering golds, of polished onyx black and the purest, deepest blue.

.

"Here," Shanks said suddenly one night, holding out a small scrap of paper. The both of them were perched atop the ruins of a high sea wall on some remote island, enjoying the cold breeze from the north after a hard fought duel.

Mihawk, for all his composure, blanched. "What is that?" He knew and he did not take it.

"What do you think it is? Its a piece of my card." He said it so simply. Like it barely occured to him how precious such a thing was. Shanks didn't drop his arm, even as the silence stretched out between them.

"No."

"Come on, Takanome- Dont be like that! We're nak--"

"Rivals." He cut the younger man off abruptly. His chest felt too hot and too tight, burning and burning and, "We are rivals, Akagami."

Shanks must've been pouting, he could hear it in his voice, "Even more reason for you to take it. We could duel every day if you could always find me~ Come on.. Please? I want you to have it."

"...."

Hawkeyes glanced at his best friend rival and immediately regretted it. Shank's face was always full of so much hope, so much faith in... something.. It made Mihawk's heart catch in his throat every time to see those big earnest eyes staring at him almost as if, for a moment, it was faith in him.

"I don't know if I can give you mine.." He murmured. Shanks smiled soft, a little sad, and infuriatingly understanding without needing to know anything.

"I dont need it. I know you'll always find me." He pressed his heart, his home the scrap into Mihawk's palm and closed the swordsman's fingers over it. "And if I need to find you.. I'll just ask the wind."