#*BITES AND BITES AND SHAKES AND SOBS AND SHAKES AND SOBS*

[venusbyline]

Treatment ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 29, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x college student!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: praise kink

— summary: Spencer needs to take out the frustrations of his professional life during sex with you, his girlfriend and his favorite student.

— word count: 1.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 29th day, female!reader, girlfriend!reader, professor!Reid, praise kink, aftercare, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, body worship, hair-pulling, butt slapping, biting, teacher-student relationship (NO UNDERAGE), secret relationship, dumbification, squirting, dacryphilia, creampie, cum dripping, subspace, fluffy ending, table sex, rough kissing, soft!Reid, dom!Reid, sub!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

Ever since Spencer arrived at university stressed after a week solving an important case at the BAU, you knew he would need to take out all his frustration with you on sex. It was no longer news to the two of you how high Spencer's sex drive became after dealing with maniacal Unsubs, especially when he had to put up with so many students who seemed to have a below average IQ inside his classroom.

The opportunity to teach subjects focused on criminology, sociology and psychoanalysis had been incredible at first, but started increasingly unbearable as the final exams weeks approached. He was trying to get his students used to his assessment method little by little, giving them short and quick tests that contained only some topics that would be included in the final exams.

However, with each test he corrected, he cursed a different teenager. Spencer could barely read the answers without wanting to rip his eyes out of their eye sockets or tear his own skin. Maybe most of the students were really stupid and irresponsible, or maybe he was being very demanding due to the stress he was going through with the latest criminal case. After all, he could not judge someone's intelligence as truly inferior just because he had a real genius brain.

When Spencer saw that he would not be able to concentrate on correcting the tests, he huffed and threw randomly the pile of papers on his table, taking out his phone and sending an urgent text to you, his favorite student and secret girlfriend too.

Even though you were busy in the library studying for another professor's classes, you were more than a little eager when you saw the text from Spencer, or rather Doctor Reid, demanding your presence in his office immediately. You knew what was coming as soon as you had caught a glimpse of him walking through campus hallways earlier that day. He was stressed. And if Spencer was stressed, that meant you would suffer the consequences and be very rewarded later.

"T-This fucking good pussy!" Spencer growled, gripping your waist tighter, giving your ass a slap that made you roll your eyes in pleasure as he moved his hips deeper, more brutally, almost as if he wanted to break you into two parts.

You whimpered when the head of his cock almost hit your cervix, making you see stars. "S-Spencie!"

Your trembling moan came along with a sob, your legs shaking as you gripped the edge of his marble table, trying to steady yourself with each thrust, even though your legs were so weak that you were sure all the paperwork would fall to the floor soon. "You're doing so well, darling. Taking my thick cock inside you like a good girl..." He growled, lowering himself until his chest was against your back, biting your shoulder uncovered by the neckline of your dress. "My best student. The only one smart enough to be admitted to this stupid university."

You knew he was overreacting, but that did not stop you from smiling between moans, your pussy squeezing his cock even tighter while he praised you, fingers pressing the soft flesh of your ass and his lips whispering how smart and hot you were. His favorite. You would always be his favorite student.

Spencer pulled you by your hair, until you were standing as he held himself still inside you, grabbing your chin for a sloppy and aggressive kiss. His free hand pulled just one of your legs up onto the table, the new position making him hit deeper inside your tight pussy. "Fuck... You have no idea how much I needed this." Spencer moaned, taking advantage of the fact that you understood the angle he wanted to fuck you at and he held your hips to help you keep it that way. "I love your little pussy crushing me like that. So tight, even when I'm about to fill you with my cum. You want that, darling? Going around campus with my cum running down your thighs? For everyone to know that you're the best student ever?”

You did not answer your boyfriend, as you were too busy feeling your orgasm coming. Spencer's eyes rolled back as your ass began to bounce faster by the second and you started to moan loudly, forcing him to release your chin to cover your mouth. "Shhh, little girl... You don't want people to know that you're getting special treatment from your professor, don't you, darling? You want them to know how much I love fucking your pussy until you're a whining mess?"

You shook your head immediately, muffled sounds escaping when Spencer licked your neck, continuing to whispering and dirty talking to you, the fucking starting to get more intense after you climaxed and your hole started to get creamy due his pre-cum and your juices.

Noticing how your body began to shake more than normal and your walls were spasming, Spencer let go of your hips only to finger your clit, rubbing it so roughly that you screamed into his palm and finally came again, followed by the transparent liquid squirting from your pussy while Spencer continued fucking you. He stimulated your clit until he also was cumming, moaning in an almost guttural way as he watched the scene of you crying out and squirting, feeling you milking his cock until the last drop.

Spencer sighed at the overstimulation, withdrawing himself from you, causing you to groan in pain and melancholy at the sudden emptiness. "It's okay, darling. You were so good, you're always so good to me... my good girl." Spencer whispered, picking you up to lay you down on the table. It was not the most comfortable place possible for the aftercare, but both of you knew it was the most that having sex hidden in your university professor's office could offer you. He stroked your hair, taking a tissue from his briefcase so he could wipe off the remnants of his cum running down your thighs. He gave you a soft smile because you reflexively tried to pull yourself away, your mind still trapped into the subspace. "It's just me, darling. You're okay. I just need to clean you up now. Is that okay, my girl?"

You nodded weakly and also a little confused, low but less scared whimpers coming from your lips. Spencer was careful not to hurt your already so sensitive and sore core. "My beautiful little girl. You're so perfect, darling. I'm so proud of you..." You smiled with your eyes closed, hearing his husky but loving voice.

Spencer took charge of taking care of you during that moment, placing a soft kiss on your temple, putting your panties back on and fixing your dress. Spencer caressed your head, admiring your weak and sleepy form, trying his best to hold back the giggle that wanted to escape as he noticed that the papers containing his students' tests were damp with random drops from your sudden squirt.

He would have to think about some convincing explanation to give to the university president regarding the stains on those papers. However, for now, the only thing Spencer would do was make sure you were physically and emotionally fine again so both of you could return to your proper responsibilities when the next class started.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[dearggntlereader]

mattheo riddle x reader mattheo realizes hes in love with you. TW: kissing some cursing and as always picture does not represent the readers looks

are we in love? . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Mattheo has loved you for as long as he can remember.

He loved you when you sat next to him in potions, eyes shy and frame small. He smiled at you then and introduced himself, starting a fabulous friendship. He loved you when you grew into your personality, getting more and more comfortable around him. He loved you when you let out huffs of laughter at his antics, followed quickly by a roll of your eyes.

He might have loved you a little less when you were dating that gryffindor bloke. Actually, no. He might have liked you less but he loved you all the same. He still loves you.

He loves you when you just woke up, eyes tired, lazy smile and messy hair. He loves you when your shooting glares at him in class, hissing at him under your breath “Focus, riddle. You’re distracting me.” He loves you when you're cleaning him up after a fight, causing him pain and wincing in tandem with him every time the cloth meets his face.

But is he in love with you?

Draco would scoff “obviously, dickhead.”

Blaise wouldn’t even grace him with an answer, only smiling in that ‘i know something you don’t’ way of his.

Pansy would bark out a laugh “you’re so stupid, riddle!”

Enzo would argue that he merely likes your presence, but he is just as stupid with emotions as Mattheo himself is. So, that doesn’t help.

Theodore would shake his head with a soft laugh and knowing look, “What do you think?”

He could never ask Tom about this.

So seeing as most of the people he holds dearest would say yes or atleast insinuate that, that should be his answer.

But then he thinks back to the start of your friendship. When you smiled at him with still crooked teeth, grabbed his hand with zero elegance for a handshake and he felt the same tugging at his chest he feels now.

And he wasn’t in love with you then.

He barely knew you, nothing to be in love with.

And now he knows you. He knows you when you're happy, feeling on top of the world just the same as he knows you sobbing into his chest, refusing to leave the bed for days on end.

The same feeling is still tugging at his chest, urging him to look at something he just can’t find.

It’s tugs become stronger every time he looks at you, a weird feeling in his stomach bubbling up with more force whenever you smile at him.

Just as you are now.

Everything inside of him is screaming to tell you something, to do something. But, what? 

“...you know?” your voice trails off, looking at him. 

You were standing between rows of books, holding an Astronomy book in hand. Surely you were ranting about class to him and whilst he would usually love to listen, he didn’t register a single word.

You're frowning slightly and he has to fight the urge to lift his fingers to smooth out the wrinkle forming between your lovely brows.

He loses the fight.

Your skin is soft under his fingers and your frown is replaced by something much softer. 

You’re looking at him with a mix of surprise and intrigue. The slight gleam in your eyes makes Mattheo want to lean in and kiss your pretty, pouty, perfect Lips. He wants to bite them until he draws blood, wants to tug at them to see them bounce back. And god, how much he wants to feel them on his skin, on his Lips, whispering soft secrets into his ear.

Stop.

No.

He was not in love with you, right?

A voice that sounds an annoyingly amount like Draco floats around his brain, “Then why the fuck do you want to kiss her, fuckface.”

He mentally tells Draco to ‘shut the fuck up’ before directing his Attention back to you. His eyes flit from your mouth up to your eyes.

Fuck.

Oh, god- he’s in love with you.

Your pupils are blown wide, dark and dilated, fixed on his Lips- just as his had been a second ago. Your eyes aren’t filled with lust or heat, simple adoring. And isn’t that just ten times more devastating. You're looking at him like you love him and all of a sudden Mattheo is falling. 

Or maybe he’s been falling for a while, falling for you, into you. Losing himself in your love, in your words and laughs and eyes. 

Most likely, he was always falling.

From the moment your eyes first meet, eyes are the windows to the soul after all. He is so in love with your soul. He wants to melt into you, curling around your spine and spilling into your veins, until you couldn’t possibly force him away.

But if he can trust the look in your eye, you might not want to force him away. Even if you had the chance.

He feels your mouth before he realizes he moved. Your lips are already parted when he meets them, inviting him in. Only a split second passes before you kiss him back, sighing into the kiss.

His hands settle on your waist and as the kiss picks up, they start roaming all over your back. Your hands fall into his hair and everything clicks into place. 

He can faintly hear the heavy Astronomy book fall to the ground beneath you two.

The haziness falls away and all Mattheo can feel is you. Your hands, your mouth, your skin, your body.

He’s convinced you were created for him just as he was for you, the way you fit together turns the falling into floating. 

Mattheo doesn’t want to meet the ground ever again, not if floating feels like this.

Okay so, this is based off something @dustie-faerie commented a while ago and after some playing around and writing and rewriting we ended up with this<333

[eviesqueezie]

pony turns the corner, making immediate eye contact with darry who’s sat on the couch with his head in his hands.

when he hears pony he stands up, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“pone, sit down.” this was weird. darry- darry wasn’t supposed to be home for ages. pony had just got back from track- so it should have been hours until he eventually got home. and he was biting his lip, eyes a little bleary- those uncommon but obvious telltale signs that something was wrong.

he complies, sliding onto the couch where darry was just sat. darry sits down opposite, on the old recliner were their pa would sit every night.

it was a weird sight.

“dar? whats-“ he starts, leaning forward slightly.

darry interjects, running a hand through his hair in a nervous tic he’d picked up from their father years and years ago.

“pony..” his voice trails off as he takes a deep breath, preparing for the correctly estimated onslaught of outrage and hurt that would be reciprocated from the message. “pone, baby-“

ponyboy’s breath picks up, bordering on hyperventilation.

“curly, he-“ the words hit like a punch to pony’s gut, a confused glance being thrown at darry with eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared.

“he in the cooler? reformatory?”

darry gulps.

“no, no honey. curly- he died. i’m so sorry, pony.”

if the past words were a punch to the gut, these were a stab to the heart. a switchblade tearing across his valves and veins. drawing blood and smearing it across the walls.

darry grabs the stack of letters that’s sat on the coffee table, pony’s name written in scrawled handwriting on the front of each. he passes them to pony, sighing.

“tim- tim found these, in curly’s room.”

pony’s breath hitches, and he throws the letters at the wall.

“he’s not- he’s not dead, dar! don’t- don’t lie, please don’t fucking lie to me right now-“

darry shakes his head, moving to sit next to him.

“he’s gone, pony. please don’t do this to yourself-“

“how?”

darry tilts his head, confusion etched across his face. hidden in his frown lines, marked in his eyebrows and scribbled into the bruise on his chin. pony should probably ask him about that, shouldn’t he?

pony continues, glaring straight ahead.

“how did he- yknow.”

darry runs a hand down his face.

“stabbed, with a switchblade. tim thinks he was on tiber territory-“

“oh god.” pony murmurs. “oh god, dar.”

“i know, i know baby.” he wraps his arms around pony in an attempt to of comfort.

ponyboy begins to sob, looking everywhere but the crumpled letters on the floor, everywhere except darry’s teary eyed face. his hands were warm as he held him, pony’s were probably the opposite. cold and clammy, unfortunate and lost.

“i killed him, didn’t i?” pony cries out, hands gripping the back of darry’s work shirt.

darry pulls him in tighter.

“no, no. pony you didn’t do-“

“i’m cursed dar, look at me. everyone- everyone just. dies”

darry can’t think of good enough response, so he lets the silence fill the room up with thick smoke that curls around their bodies, intertwined in the hope that it will help him squeeze pony a little tighter.

[rottenpumpkin13]

How does Zack cry?

What does it look like? What does it sound like?

What does he like for comfort?

Any other CC importants/you prefer to write about? Their cry comfort scenario?

Zack: When Zack cries, it's as if his emotions finally have nowhere else to go. It's a violent, consuming, absolute. torrent of tears. When he breaks, he shatters, a surge of frustration, pain, and helplessness that crashes over him all at once. He's not against being vulnerable in front of others, but even his closest friends may be shocked.

He drops to his knees, hands clutching his face, the sobs coming in jagged, gasping sounds. His body shakes violently, as if trying to expel every ounce of despair he's been bottling up, like a broken little kid trying to understand why everything is too much. When he tries to wipe them away, it only makes it worse—anger and embarrassment mixing. He doesn't want to cry, he hates it, but it’s beyond his control.

It's always at breaking point when you'll find him like this, utterly wrecked. Angeal usually finds him. Angeal knows exactly what to do—he wraps his arms around Zack, presses his chest against his back, his voice soft, steady, always telling him that it's okay to break down. And sometimes, Cloud is there, quieter, but just as determined in his own way. He doesn't have words like Angeal does, but he knows how to soothe through action.

Sephiroth: He never cries. Not in the way the others do. His tears don't announce themselves. They simply exist—silver trails down pale cheeks, no sound, no acknowledgment. He was taught to suppress emotions from the very start, conditioned to believe that showing weakness is the path of failure. He holds it in, all of it, for as long as he can. It's not loud. There's no sobbing, no hysteria, just the quiet, aching drip of tears he can't stop as his hand clutches his chest. Genesis would pull him in for a hug and recite poetry, Angeal would speak soft, careful words about healing as he stroked his hair. But Genesis and Angeal won't always be there. When they leave, Sephiroth just lets them fall, because what else can he do?

Genesis: When Genesis cries, it's anger that brings the tears. It's rarely sorrow, sometimes pain—but usually it's fury, frustration, and deep, burning rage that finally breaks him. His tears come in rivulets, hot and salty, mingling with the blood he's drawn from biting his lip in a vain attempt to keep it together. His face flushes red and it's hard for him to look anyone in the eye. Angeal is there, and Genesis melts into his arms like ice under a flame, sobbing in the arms of his best friend, the anger slowly dissipating into sorrow.

Angeal: He has always been the one who holds everyone else together. Strong for his friends, strong for the younger soldiers, strong for his mother, even when he's the one who feels like he's falling apart inside. He's the anchor, the steady one—the one who takes on burdens with a smile, even when it's too much. He learned long ago to push his own feelings aside, to keep going, to keep others from seeing his own cracks. But sometimes he can't keep it in any longer. His tears come when he's busy, when he's talking to to other people. He pretends that everything is fine, that it isn't happening. He wipes them away quickly, continue on with whatever task he's been doing. And the problem with Angeal is that he's very reluctant to let other people comfort him.

Rufus: He's been taught to suppress everything. He's the apparent heir to Shinra, the man who's expected to be strong, calculating, always in control. "Tears are a sign of weakness," is what dear old dad would say, "emotions are to be controlled and tucked away."

He learned this lesson early from his father, who showed him that to show emotion is to show vulnerability, and vulnerability is the enemy of power. But when he cries as an adult—as opposed to a lonely child in the arms of whatever nanny was hired to care for him, it's the loud, devastating kind, type kind of crying that belongs to a little kid forced to grow up too fast, but only with Tseng to witness it. Tseng has always been the one to comfort him, who knows exactly what words Rufus needs as he collapses in his arms, exhausted by the emotional buildup. Tseng will hold him, stroke his hair, murmur soothing words that Rufus needs desperately. Afterward, Rufus will pretend it never happened, acting like he's still the same reserved, controlled VP he always was. If Tseng ever brings it up again, there's a very real chance that he might find himself in the line of one of Rufus' bullets.

[m4rv3l-girl]

hi!!! I love ur fics sm and I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is struggling with either ptsd or depression or something and they self harm and bucky walks in on them and cleans them up and comforts them and basically tells them it's not their fault ❤️❤️❤️

The Weight You Carry

Bucky x Y/N

Note: Thank you so much for your request, it is so valued! The topic of this one is obviously heavy and I (very fortunately) haven’t had any close contact with a situation like this. Due to the sensitive nature of the request - I have made the decision not to include any scenes of self-harm. This is something I’ve chosen to do because I would hate to write something unrealistic, harmful or content that will contribute to misconceptions. It’s simply not a subject I am well enough educated or experienced in to do it justice in writing. I’ve tried to stick to what you asked as much as possible, it includes the hurt/comfort themes, some clear emotional trauma and ellusions to past self harm but I have deliberately not included it in this fic. Thanks again, I hope you still enjoy! 🫶

Warnings: Depression. Trauma. Hurt/Comfort.

The bathroom was silent except for Y/N’s ragged breaths and the muffled sounds of her quiet sobs. The kind of silence that felt loud in her ears, reverberating against the cold, tiled walls. The mirror above the sink reflected a warped version of herself—puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and a trembling lower lip she couldn’t quite get under control.

Her hands gripped the edge of the porcelain sink like it was the only thing keeping her upright, the sharp bite of the rim pressing into her palms grounding her in a reality that felt too heavy to bear. She was suffocating under the weight of everything she couldn’t name, couldn’t fix, and couldn’t stop. It was a storm inside her head, a mess of guilt, fear, and exhaustion, swirling endlessly, consuming every bit of light she tried to hold onto.

This wasn’t new. She’d been fighting it for months—years, even. But tonight was one of the bad nights, the kind that snuck up on her, blindsiding her after a day that had been so deceptively normal. That was the cruel thing about it; it never gave her any warning. One moment she was fine, and the next, she was unraveling.

She hadn’t meant to end up here, curled up on the cold bathroom floor, her knees pulled to her chest, her forehead resting against them as she tried to hold herself together. She’d told herself she was just going to splash some water on her face, to take a minute to breathe. But the second she’d locked the door behind her, the dam had broken, and she’d crumpled.

A quiet knock at the door jolted her.

“Y/N?”

The voice was soft, hesitant but unmistakably familiar. Her chest tightened at the sound of it, her tears momentarily forgotten as she froze in place.

It was Bucky. Of course it was.

She didn’t answer, holding her breath as if staying silent would somehow make him go away. She couldn’t let him see her like this—broken, weak, and barely holding on. He didn’t need to deal with her mess on top of everything he carried himself.

“Doll?” His voice came again, quieter this time but no less concerned.

The nickname made her chest ache. He always said it with so much affection, like it was his way of reminding her how much he cared, how much she meant to him. But tonight, it felt like too much—too heavy, too undeserved.

“I know you’re in there,” he said after a beat of silence. His voice was closer now, just on the other side of the door.

“Go away, Bucky,” she finally croaked, her voice barely audible and hoarse from crying.

There was a pause, and for a brief moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then she heard him sigh, the kind of deep, weary sigh that spoke of his own struggles, his own battles.

“Sweetheart, I’m not leaving you like this,” he said gently.

She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head even though he couldn’t see her. “I’m fine,” she lied, the words shaky and unconvincing.

“You’re not,” he replied softly. There was no judgment in his tone, only a quiet determination.

She heard the faint jingle of keys, and her heart sank. Of course, he had the spare key. She’d given it to him months ago when things weren’t as bad, trusting him to use it only if she really needed him.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open slowly. She didn’t look up, too ashamed to face him.

Bucky stepped inside, his frame filling the small doorway. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. She could feel his gaze, heavy with concern, and it only made her want to shrink further into herself.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly.

“Please, don’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

But he was already moving, kneeling down in front of her with a slow, deliberate gentleness that made her heart ache. He didn’t reach for her immediately, instead settling onto the floor a few feet away, giving her the space she so desperately needed.

“I’m here,” he said simply.

Those two words unraveled her completely.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked softly, his brows furrowing.

“For being like this,” she choked out, her hands shaking as she wiped at her face. “For being so…broken.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a steadiness that made her heart clench, he said, “You’re not broken, Y/N.”

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and painful. “Then why do I feel like I am?”

“Because you’ve been carrying too much,” he said simply, his voice steady and sure. “And you’ve been doing it alone.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she finally looked up at him. His blue eyes were filled with a quiet intensity, a depth of understanding that only someone who had been through their own hell could offer.

“It’s not your fault,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “None of this is your fault.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head, cutting her off gently.

“Whatever you’re feeling, whatever you’re going through, it doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you a burden. It makes you human. And I a human too, one that hurts just as much.”

Her tears came faster, harder, and she didn’t resist when he reached out, his hand brushing against hers.

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice softening. “You don’t have to do this alone, Doll. Let me be here for you, the way you’ve been there for me.”

Her resolve crumbled, and she leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around her. His embrace was warm and steady, a safe haven in the midst of her storm.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But can figure it out. One step at a time.”

And for the first time in a long time, she felt a little bit less alone.

——————————————————————————————————

Requests Open!

[twrk11]

hello ,, hehe ,, i just came across ur acc and i love how you write for towa ,, is it okay if i ask for nsfw headcanons for taiga fico leo sho ren haku and jin (am more hoping for taiga leo haku and ren if you only write a specific amount of chars) , where mc is like real submissive for them in front of others, but in closed doors mc is dom hevfhbenfbeneb (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡ feel free to ignore if it makes u uncomfy 🩷

NSFW Tokyo Debunker Headcanons & short fic | 18+

Characters : Taiga, Leo, Ren, Haku

Hello anon!! Glad you’re here ☺️!! Thanks so much for liking the Towa fic, I feel honored! I really did like this idea, I hope I fulfilled it the way you wanted!! This is personally my first time ever doing an ask so thank you for this!

I originally was going to do all the ones you mentioned but.. I ended up having too much fun. Took me a while to write all that I wanted! Perhaps i’ll revisit and do the other three?

(Apologies if some are longer than others! ~ 😢)

Content : All is of course consensual! No mention of readers gender, Smut, mentions of oral, riding, pegging, sex, begging, mention of a collar, brat, sub!characters, dom!reader, punishment, humiliation, bondage

words: 1415

Read under cut!

Taiga

-Definitely confused him the first time !

-You were so cute sitting on his lap at the poker table.. How did he end up fucked out of his mind?

-You were such a good submissive kitty.. He couldn’t help but think about pounding you until you were sobbing on how good it felt.

-He wants you to do it more though. He loves seeing you bounce on his cock. You’re so.. Eager,

-Don’t tease him, he will be angry and give you the nastiest glare he can muster (If he’s not fucked out)

-Grunts for sure, might be able to squeeze a whimper out every so often.

-If you don’t restrain him, he will claw and scratch at you.

-.. put a collar on him. Might piss him off but he’d also make such a cute kitty~!

-don’t get too close to his mouth, he might bite. He’s feisty.

“Gghh-“ He’d grunt, his brows furrowed. He’d jerk his hands, god those handcuffs pissed him off to no end. He’d glare at you, purposefully trying to rut his hips up into you harshly. He wanted to be in control! God- but when you slapped him when he did so.. he couldn’t lie, his cock twitched and throbbed. He wouldn’t warn you if he was about to cum, I’m .. quite frankly not so sure he could. But he certainly has tell tale signs!

“Mh~” A small whimper escaped his throat. Oh he might burst-!

“Go on.. you can cum~” you’d coo, gently running your hands on his chest.

He’d erupt immediately, his eyes shut as he couldn’t help the whines. His hands would shake, then he’d open his eyes, too dazed to even think.

Leo

-You were submissive in public—! It was perfect for his social media!!

-When you showed up in his videos and acted the way you did- you were so cute..

-It had helped fuel any of his fans desires at the thought of Leo being dominant. Really brought in the views!

-… how did he end up eating you out/sucking your dick with you calling him a good boy?

-either way.. he’s a brat. So fucking annoying

-He’d threaten to blackmail you.

-watch out, he miiiight try to spit on you.

-Just show him his place, might take a bit but he will eventually be broken down and a sobby mess for you~!

-He’d be so good at begging, and he loves to, even if he doesn’t wanna admit it

-He loves being restrained, please do so.. He wants to feel helpless.

-He’s loud.. like.. really.. really loud.. Moaning, whining, whimpering.

-He’d try to be quiet but eventually he can’t contain it—! You might have to help shut him up if he’s too loud..? Or you could let him be.. it’d humiliate him with how loud he is.

-Oh.. he’d hate to admit he loves being humiliated.

-Ride him, peg him/fuck him, he honestly loves it all, anything to get him a mess.

“F-Fuck-! M-Mmh~” He sobbed, he tried to not jerk his hips. Aahh.. but he couldn’t help it-! It felt like he had no control- over the situation or his body. Who would’ve thought you’d make him the pillow princess?

“I-Im gonna cum~!” He cried, he came immediately as soon as the words fell from his mouth.

.. Did you allow him to cum..? I don’t recall you ever did..? Don’t forget to punish him— Otherwise he will think he can do whatever he wants!

Ren

-He honestly quite liked how submissive you were in public. It made you so easy to tease and .. he’s mean.

-He got a real kick out of making fun of you!

-You were so agreeable and did whatever he asked, download a game and enter the referral code? You did it in a heartbeat! You were so eager to please!!

-.. Now he has to beg.. Fuck- he didn’t want to do that. That’s.. humiliating.

-Expect back talk. He’s definitely a brat.

-.. He will end up begging. And eventually he will be no stranger to it. The words really just can’t seem to help themselves other than to tumble out of his mouth.

-Oh he’s a whiner. He whimpers sooooo good.

-Please don’t restrain him— He NEEDS to grab onto something to keep him grounded.

-Whether that’s you or the sheets doesn’t matter he needs something, anything.

-(though I do believe he wouldn’t like touching much during sex just based on how he acts- I do think he has certain times and parts of the body he’s happy to have contact with. Does that make sense?)

-He definitely is a crier, it feels just too good.. he can’t help it.

“Fuck no! I’m not begging for you-“ .. Or so, that’s what he claimed. Slap him around a bit, toy a bit with his nipples. Oh, of course his nipples are sensitive. He’d shiver- it felt so so good-

“Why’d you stop..?” His voice was out of breath. His cock was so tight against his pants, this is not fair- Why were you playing games right now?

“Beg. You want more?” You’d demand, but would be met with a scoff. Didn’t he already tell you he’s not doing that? Who even put you in char- his cheek stung. His nipples hardened, as he felt his cock dribble out precum. No way he just got turned on from you slapping him— right? .. Tease his nipples a bit more, punish him until he finally begs. He’ll eventually learn that begging can get him everywhere!

“P-please~ C-cum-“ He can barely speak, just hiccup and sob words out, with his hands moving between gripping the sheets and your waist. His tears slowly slide down his cheeks- he’s so needy.. and once given permission he really can’t hold back anymore.

“Mm-mh~! M-MC-!” He sobbed your name as he came- his voice cracking.

Haku

-Oh you were just adorable when you reacted to his flirting.

-He really loved to tease you! He couldn’t help but imagine how you’d be in bed.

-He was so forward, and you were shy, obviously flustered easily. How could you not be submissive?

-.. Well.

-He was sorely mistaken, hm?

-He couldn’t help but love the view of you riding/fucking/pegging him, but goodness, his neck throbbed with all the times you bit him—!!

-He moans for sure, he’s quite loud too. Grunts and whines every now and then.

-He’d still tease you, he can’t help but be oh so forward with you.

-If he’s fucked out, he can’t help but look at you with a dazed expression- mumbling out how much he wants more.

-He’d LOVE to run his hands all over your body, he wants to connect with you in whatever way he can.

-He really wishes he could ravage you- you’d be so so cute.. Ah but your expression now.. He can’t deny how it makes his dick throb and ooze out pre-cum.

-He’s well behaved! But he will for sure be a bit of a brat. He can’t let you have it too easy can he? Though.. he’d happily do whatever you want, he just wants to satisfy you!

-He’s a massive slut, please make him cum over and over again. He doesn’t care if he’s overstimulated, he needs more. He’s insatiable.

-Loves praise! He craves knowing if he’s a good boy.

-Can’t help but love degradation as well, makes him feel so dirty. He really just wants to be your bitch.

“O-oh fuck— MC-“ He moaned as his lids seemed to flutter shut. You rolled your hips, just the way he liked. He let his hands roam over your body, gently caressing it .

“Please go faster baby- Mmh~” He slightly whined. He wanted you to use him- if it made you happy please do so. He really truly just wanted to be your whore.

“Yeah? Like that? Such a slut, begging for more. Mm- You’re such a good boy for me.” You whispered in his ear as you sped up, causing him to shiver and his cock twitch. When your hand wrapped around his neck and gently applied pressure, mixed with the soreness of all the hickeys littering his skin, he couldn’t help cum.

“F-fuck~! MC-! D-don’t stop please—“ He cried out- he needed more. Just truly drain him dry, he’d cum for you as much as you like.

[helluvaoutlaw]

The cries woke him like a cold slap to the face.

Disoriented, Striker pushed himself upright, the too-long shirt clinging awkwardly to his body. His head throbbed, but the sound of Coronis’s voice—broken, desperate—cut through the fog of his mind.

Something had happened.

His feet hit the cold floor as he staggered to the window. His bleary eyes took in Coronis, trembling by the bars of her cell, her sobs shaking her entire frame. Beyond her, through the dim, he caught a glimpse of the Brothers hauling a body away. Striker’s chest clenched as realization hit.

Vivian was gone.

A heavy knot of guilt twisted in his stomach. He gripped the bars tightly, the rough metal biting into his palms as he reached out, desperate to bridge the gap between them.

“Coronis...” he rasped, his voice thick, his throat raw.

He stretched his arm through the bars, wanting to hold her hand at least, a way to show comfort.

He stared at her trembling form, her grief so raw it was unbearable to witness. And all he could think about was how he’d failed.

If he’d been faster. If he’d fought harder. If he’d made it out.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his jaw tightening as he forced down the self-loathing that threatened to swallow him whole. They could’ve had hope—if only he’d succeeded.

“I’m sorry...”

He murmured hoarsely, his voice barely audible. He squeezed her hand gently, his grip firm despite his own shaking fingers.

“I...I should’ve done better. Should’ve gotten us out of here.”

Deliver Us from Evil

((A closed RP thread for @second-wife-playbook ))

Warning! NSFW content (namely torture and violence)

((the dialogues are all in English, aside for a few exceptions, but whenever you see a sentence with a * it means they are speaking Italian.))

––––––––

Vatican City, Italy, 9:00 p.m.

The flickering glow of candlelight cast long shadows along the towering walls of St. Peter’s Basilica, illuminating the gilded arches and intricate mosaics with a warm, ethereal glow. The haunting melody of Gregorian chants filled the sacred space, echoing from the Altare della Confessione and filling every corridor with its solemn resonance. The faithful gathered near the altar, their voices melding into a single, haunting wave of prayer.

Cardinal Graziano Malaspina moved quietly down one of the lesser-used hallways, the sound of his footsteps almost swallowed by the vast silence of the basilica. For once, he did not join the chants, choosing instead to observe from the edges, shrouded in the quiet solitude of the basilica's shadows. Tonight, he felt an odd sense of disquiet—a subtle, unspoken tension that seemed woven into the very air.

He paused at a window, glancing out at the nearly empty square below. The marble and stone, so familiar to him, seemed to almost breathe in the stillness of the night.

Cardinal Malaspina was a striking figure, his presence commanding yet refined.

Standing tall with a lean, dignified frame, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who had risen swiftly through the Church’s ranks.

His Italian heritage showed in his dark, deep-set eyes, which held an intense gaze that could both soothe and unsettle in equal measure.

His hair, thick and precisely combed back, was a distinguished blend of salt and pepper, echoing the silver that flecked his well-groomed beard. The beard itself was neatly trimmed to accentuate the strong, angular lines of his face, adding an air of wisdom to his appearance. His nose, prominent and finely shaped, gave him a slightly aristocratic look, one that complemented his quiet, reserved demeanor.

Despite his relatively young age among the cardinals, having just reached sixty, he bore the wisdom and experience of a man who had seen much in his time with the Church. His crimson cassock fell in sharp lines around him, pristine and orderly, each detail carefully attended to—a testament to his meticulous nature and devotion to his duties.

He cast a wary glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dim hallway for any sign of movement. Satisfied that he was alone, he reached out to the statue of Archangel Michael, knelt down, made the sign of the cross and pressed a small lever concealed along its back.

With a low, almost imperceptible rumble, the statue shifted, rotating on its pedestal to reveal a hidden doorway nestled behind it. The faint hum of machinery stirred, as if acknowledging a secret it had kept for centuries. Beyond the doorway lay a narrow elevator and a spiraling set of marble stairs, both leading downward into the unknown.

Without hesitation, Cardinal Malaspina slipped inside, feeling the air cool and thicken with a sense of sacred secrecy. Once he crossed the threshold, the statue resumed its original position, cloaking the hidden passageway from view. To any passerby, it appeared as though nothing had changed, the Archangel Michael standing steadfast in his silent vigil.

As Cardinal Malaspina descended deeper into the hidden chambers of St. Peter’s Basilica, the echo of his footsteps was joined by those of Guido, his loyal aide and confidant.

Dressed impeccably in a black suit, Guido inclined his head in a respectful bow, murmuring:

*“Your Eminence.”*

He fell into step beside the Cardinal, his tone low but crisp as he relayed the latest report.

*"Our Hunters returned from the United States. They found the hotel but...the demon was already dead. By electrocution, in a swimming pool."*

Guido's tone conveyed his disappointment, though he continued smoothly, *“The Infestor had been haunting the hotel, taking human lives one by one. But by the time they arrived, someone had gotten there first.”*

The Cardinal sighed, a brief flicker of frustration crossing his face.

*"A pity. Such a rare specimen could have proven useful to us in Project Divine Justice. There’s always something new to learn from their nature—if only we can get to them first.”*

They walked past sleek, reinforced doors, which opened into a series of rooms unlike anything one would expect beneath Vatican City. Hidden behind the walls of faith and tradition, the Order of Saint Michael the Archangel’s underground headquarters resembled a modern, highly-equipped facility. Laboratories buzzed with scientists in white coats, analyzing samples and conducting experiments on demon blood, bone, and essence.

In a separate room, instructors led young initiates in the arts of demonology, each student pouring over ancient texts bound in leather, annotated with both Latin prayers and weapon schematics. Further down, hardened agents trained with exorcism rituals and weapon drills, preparing for their next assignment.

Cardinal Malaspina felt a surge of satisfaction as he moved through the corridors, taking in the power and purpose of OSMA’s sprawling network. He had dedicated his life to making the Order one of the most formidable forces the Church had ever sanctioned, one that could confront Hell itself.

In recent years, however, Project Divine Justice had brought his ambitions to a new peak, aiming to capture demons directly from Hell to ensure no secrets were left undiscovered.

*"Of course, it’s more difficult than ever to secure our...acquisitions,"* he mused aloud, glancing at Guido.

*"Few demons are allowed on Earth, and those that do break through are often killed on sight.”*

Guido nodded.

*"That’s why Crimson remains indispensable. With his network, he can bring us exactly what we need, directly from Hell itself.”*

A sly smile tugged at the corner of the Cardinal’s mouth.

Crimson, the demon mafia boss who commanded such power within Hell’s underworld, was a key ally.

For the right price—and perhaps a few thinly veiled promises—Crimson delivered the demonic specimens they needed, hand-delivered to OSMA’s agents, allowing their experiments and training to proceed in earnest.

Their path led to a heavily secured door, marked only with a cross etched into blackened metal. Cardinal Malaspina paused for a moment, laying his hand on the door.

*“When we unlock the true nature of these demons, Guido, the world will be prepared. Humanity will finally be safe from these creatures.”*

"Dio è con noi, Eminenza."

"E noi siamo con Dio."

[stormbreaker-290]

Goormornuig to everyone EXCEPT for @bumble-the-sun-bee what tge fuck man☹️☹️☹️/silly

[sparks-chaotic-cove]

HEY! YOU! are you sobbing over recent mer lore (specifically on Gyn's side- our poor boy. If you don't know what I'm talking about- please please go watch the vod from yesterday [8/15]!)

I couldn't be there, but while I'm sad, I'm honored to have a bit of my work within the canon of Leviathan lore!

Here's the lullaby, for anyone having trouble locating it!

[hazyupset]

“… I actually feel happy.“

@gothic-mothic….. ur narrator…. i hope i did him some justice its hard coloring a man with one color and trying to make him scruffy….

[finalghost]

— INSTANTLY , SHE RECOILED . the lush , impassioned green of her irises dulled . her expression of righteous fury slackened . eliza wasn't sure what she had been expecting , but it certainly was not this . the bite of his words scraping in her ears , the heat rolling off of his flexed muscles & hitting her like a fresh wave of last night's fire .

" i don't . . . " she repeated the words , wild mania seeding itself in her pupils . a short string of laughter , a touch crazed , followed . " i don't understand ? you think i'm not obsessing over it , too ?! camille — i -- it's KILLING me . i'm her . . . i'm supposed to be her best friend , thomas , & i'm lying to her fucking face . and the longer we hide it , the more reasons she'll have to hate us . to hate ME . because -- " shaking fingers found their way to her scalp , tugging at the roots whilst her head & heart unwound like a spool of thread . " because you're her brother ! you'll always be that . but , if she hates me , then you'll . . . i-- " a sob caught in her throat . the words choked her . tears , that she'd only just noticed , stung against flushed cheeks . they stained the red apple curve , glossed quivering lips , ran down her chin .

her lungs seized but she swallowed back the puddle of blood that begged to come up — refusing to embarrass herself further . when the words finally escaped , they were strained . almost silent . " i can't lose you both . i can't be alone . "

thomas felt too far away . even when he took hold of her wrist & pulled her in , there was a present feeling of distance . a fissure in the fantasy she had tried to become content in . " a year & a half . right now . two more years from now ? until one of us is DEAD ? " eliza would not meet his gaze , her own trained on the spastic heaving of his chest .

chocolate brown curls tickled her forehead . she shivered . the chill that ran down her spine echoed back up when his frame hardened & voice became cold . even his fingertips , still tight on her wrist , possessed an icy sheen of frost . desperately , she mourned the loss of his warmth — even if it had been accompanied by ire . eliza took a shaky breath , turning her head away from him , the shattered dignity of her composure tucking into her shoulder . her head was pounding — war drums urging her to go in for the kill . " after last night . . . this can't be the rest of my life , thomas . " the pressure grew , her head screaming . she winced right before a wave of sick washed over her . long , wet lashes blinked a handful of times before she dared part empty lips once more . " i think that . . . " her brow knit . " i think . . . " her mouth hung open , her cheek twitching . eliza tried to grapple with her mind , her irises glassing , as a thick fog rolled in .

she was angry . no , sad ? the dewy trails of runaway tears , swiped at by her unrestrained hand , were proof enough . only , she could not quite put her finger on why . after all , eliza was not easily moved to tears — always quicker to turn her upset into anger . utterly lost , eliza's red-rimmed eyes desperately clung to thomas , searching his face for answers . stone stare . flared nostrils . ticking jaw . " you're mad . " the speed at which her heart ran made her sick , a sporadic rhythm that shifted from her mixed well of emotions to fear . " we're . . . fighting . " it was less of a question , moreso the woman's hopeless attempt at rattling her broken mind back into action .

quick , remind me . tell me why we're fighting . i don't want to lose . i'm always right in the end . they stood at the tip of her tongue , but the longer she searched thomas's face — felt his iron hold on her wrist , steam rolling from his nostrils , dark curls teasing her warm skin — the more she wanted to forget . allow ignorance to be bliss .

eliza's other hand found the thick cotton of his shirt , knotting her fingers & balling it in her fist . " say it didn't matter . it was a stupid fight , right ? just — tell me it was nothing . " curiosity picked at her brain , but the nausea curling in her stomach warned her she was better off not knowing . if thomas decided it so , she'd allow herself to be content with forgetting . lose one battle to win the war .

" i don't want to make you crazy . i want you to be happy . us to be happy . i love you , tommy . "

rising on her tiptoes , her nose brushed his — wishing the red out of his eyes & enmity off his breath — before she remembered where they stood . in the open with nothing but rubble to shield their secrets . the trees watched from overhead , & she could only imagine what other eyes & ears lingered nearby . eliza unwound her grip on his shirt , freed herself from his clutch , & stepped back . the cold winter's breeze greeted her . " sorry . "

THOMAS CUT HIS EYES TO HER , his lids snapping open for only a brief second before they were narrowed back into iron-split slits ; " I'M the one who needs to get a fuckin' grip ?? " new york smeared his words like mud , made them grainy and harsh . hands flew to his forehead , temples fussing and wailing , beating their fists on his skull and making the excruciating head ache double down as her fit had inky black spots clouding his vision . eliza's finger , however , struck like a dagger ; her pointed nail seeming to pierce the hard bone of his puffed sternum as if it were made of warm butter ; like the manicured tip would go right through him and pierce his already frantic lungs.

" god , here we fuckin ' go again — are you even listening to yourself, right now ?? " thomas growled , frustration so heavy in his throat it had a taste ; acidic , like climbing bile . " it's like you don't even fuckin' understand the actual gravity of what we're doing . how many people are gonna get fuckin' HURT when they find out . you think it doesn't drive me crazy having to sneak you around ?? "

all of this time it had been what HE wanted , her desires often getting set on the backburner to spare him of facing consequence head on , , , but even thomas wasn't even sure what that was . eliza , the one in which he was so entangled with it felt like it was steering him towards insanity , was the ONE PERSON he should have steered clear from . should have ignored . lust burned , its flames all consuming , and left infatuation in its scorched wake . a one time thing bred into a need ; an addict with an unscratchable itch . a cardinal need that left his thirst for her unquenchable — MADDENING .

thomas's hand wrapped around her wrist , tugging the smaller woman to his chest , lowering his face so his forehead was only separated from hers by the thinnest veil of smoke-fogged mist . his voice lowered , exhaustion fueling speech ; " liza , you know this is more than just sex to me , , , " his tone was almost apologetic , though that scalding burn of fury still singed the ends of otherwise sentimental words . " — but this , , , whatever this is , , , THIS is how it has to be right now — you know that . you knew that the moment it started . "

tom wanted to wrap his arms around her , pull her to his chest , press his face into her hair and finally give in to every feeling he had suppressed in favor of honoring the fear that came with them . yet he didn't . taking a step back , thomas's gaze grew heavy ; weighted as it focused on the cherry-red flush on her cheeks , the hopeless devotion in her eyes , the both spoken and unspoken plea for him to simply acknowledge her outside of the shadows instead of retreating his gaze and recoiling his touch .

then he hardened again , turning cold like stone , any warmth in his gaze — any empathy for how hard this must be on her — fading out like a snuffed candle . " if loving me in private is so fuckin' awful , eliza , then go ahead and end it . " defenses were back up , an cocktail of fury and heartache so thick in his throat he felt like he was choking on it . " if being with me , like this , is so hard and you can't fuckin' stand to wait any longer for it to finally go your way — then end it . tell me you're done and it's over , but i can't fuckin' keep doing this . explaining myself . explaining to YOU why we need to wait . "

pressing his heel to his head , thomas sighed , almost dizzy from how nauseating the pulse of his skull was ; " — i promised that we'd talk about this when we got back . i told you we would . jesus , eliza , it's like you WANT to drive me fuckin' crazy . "

[itaipava]

[elizakai]

i-

the urge was way too urge.

WAAAA THIS IS SO CUTE PLEASE-

HELP😭💗💗💫

[mushtoons]

ok seeing anon talk that bullshit about yall made me decide to talk to you guys and lemme say this.

ANON IS A COWARD WHO HAS NOTHING TO DO IN ITS LIFE, IF ITS TARGETTING YALL AND IT WONT EVEN SHOW ITSELF THAT MEANS ITS SCARED

MYCEL IM SORRY I DONT INTERACT WITH YALL POSTS AS MUCH BUT I LITERALLY START DOING FLAPPY HANDS WHEN I SEE YOU. ANON IS STUPID FOR NOT REALIZING THAT YALL ARE A HEART THAT IF IT WERE TO BE TAKEN OUT I WOULD DIE

sorry if the post has a lil bit of (maybe but its still deserved) hate to anon i have been just a lil bit mad this week.

anyways continue being annoying and make me so annoyed that I say to yall that you all are annoying (in a haha funny way) (not the bad type of way) (sorry if it seems like that) (also i might be more active on yall blog) (you wont escape me)

FIRST OFF FUCKIN SOBBING UR SO SWEET AND DHDJDJDJDJD AHHHHH

SECONDLY DONT APOLOGIZE NO ONE OWES US INTERACTS!!! AS LONG AS PEOPLE ARE ABLE TO LOOK AT OUR STUFF AND GET A SMILE THATS REALLY ALL WE AIM FOR (well a chuckle would also be nice but djdjdjd /hj lh)

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

girls when "it was really me!" in Millions

[borom1r]

RRRAAAGHH FINAL WEEKEND OF THE REN FEST PIC W THEE KNIGHT THE MYTH THE LEGEND SIR VICTOR. BARKING LIKE A DOG SIR JACOB FUCKING JUMPED OFF OF HIS HORSE AND ONTO SIR VICTOR TODAY I FEEL INSANE. between this and last weekend I feel INSANEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!