#Pound of Flesh Online

[krosiefics]

would you like that? • bang chan

M D N I 18+

WC: 1.4k

Summary: Bang Chan is having too much fun teasing Stays on Bubble while he’s supposed to be working, he suddenly starts teasing you as well and that escalates to well…

A/N: lmfao I honestly called us (stays) out for writing shit on the internet but I like to think of it as ‘creative writing’ Also this isn’t proof read so, sorry abt any typos or mistakes :P

Tags: afab!reader, softdom!bangchan, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), grinding, overstimulation, ass grabbing(?)-not ass play), teasing, pet names (babe, baby, good girl, pretty, etc), breeding kink, I’m prob forgetting some so sorry

Chan giggled at his phone as he saw the flow of flustered responses to his latest Bubble message. “You’re teasing them too much.” You shake your head, peeking over his shoulder reading all of Stay’s responses. “No I'm not.” He scoffs, “They’re far worse than you could ever imagine.” It’s true and you know it, Stay’s write all sorts of things about the members online.

(a/n ;-;)

As one of Stray Kids’ managers, your job is to handle their social and music media, so you’ve seen things…things you probably shouldn’t have. Chan knows this and so he uses all these teases towards Stay as an advantage. “Let’s see, what should I say next?” Chan ponders to himself as you sit down on the sofa that sat behind his desk, you open your computer and as you’re about to start working on a new draft a loud giggle startles you.

Chan is curled up in his chair, kicking his feet giddily while looking at his phone. Growing annoyed at the man who is supposed to be working with you on new lyric drafts, you get up from your spot and snatch his phone gently from his hands. “Hey!” Chan pouts as you read the screen. Your face immediately heats up as you read the highly suggestive comment he left on someone’s post about pudding. “Chan, that's highly inappropriate!”

Chan was going to snap back but then noticed your face’s sudden change of color and he smirked. “Would you like that?” He teased, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite tell. It’s not abnormal for you two to playfully tease or flirt with each other, it helps ease the awkward moments of silence that sometimes fall between you. But this…this was different, it was as if he was testing you, to see if you’d give in to all of your playful remarks you’ve made over the past few years of knowing each other.

“What?” You breathe out shakily. Chan licks his lips, his eyes flickering down to your soft plump lips. Oh what he would do to feel them against his. Chan knows he shouldn’t think like this, especially since you’re one of his managers…yet he still craved you, there was just something about you. Chan’s hands crept up the sides of your legs, gripping at your hips and tugging you closer to him.

Due to the sudden tug, you almost topple on top of him, you hold yourself above his head on the headrest of his chair. Your face felt so hot, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the way your stomach fluttered, the way your breathing became hitched…all because of this man’s sudden change of teasing. “I’m not kidding.” Chan sighs, leaning his face into your neck. You could feel his breath fanning across your skin, it sent chills down your spine.

The sudden touch of his lips to your skin instantly made you jolt, but he held you in your place not wanting to let go of this moment. “Please.” Chan whispered as he continued to pepper your neck with wet kisses.

You didn’t know what was happening anymore, it all went so quick. His teeth grazed over your collarbone and you gasped in response, your hands flying to his hair. Now with the loss of support from the headrest, Chan easily sits you in his lap, having you straddle his lap. Your breathing fastens as you feel him nibble at your skin, biting your lip not to let any sounds come out.

Chan’s hands snake around towards your ass and grab it, massaging the flesh. You let out an accidental moan at his action, you bury your face into his neck out of embarrassment. “It’s okay baby, it’s just us here right now, it's too late for anyone else to be here. So you can be as loud as you want, yeah.” Chan starts leaving kisses on the top of your head.

You whimper at his noises and he chuckles, as he adjusts his seating position you feel something hard poke at you. You pull away from his neck to look down at what it was, your face turns even redder. The outline of his hardened cock bulging from his jeans.

Your mind filled with the possible outcomes on what could happen if you stop this or if you let this continue. There were too many risks, but so many benefits. You wanted the man underneath you, you always have. Chan’s overall personality is what attracted you to him initially, but the more spent time with him the more you realized that this guy is insanely hot, handsome, talented, caring, and a billion other positive things. You knew you couldn’t have him though, it was wrong.

But right now, you didn’t care. You didn’t care how wrong this was. You let your lust and desire take over you.

You experimentally rolled your hips against his, Chan responded with a low groan, his grip on your hips tightening. “Fuck that feel good babe, don’t stop.” And you didn’t. You rubbed against him until his breathing was fast like yours, his eyes screwed shut from the pleasure, and his face red and hot. Then you stopped.

Chan whined softly, his eyes fluttered open as he stared up at you. You carefully removed yourself from his lap. “Wait.” Chan simpered, lifting his body to get up after you. You simply placed a hand on his chest to keep him seated there. You walked over to the door and locked it, even though there shouldn’t be anyone here at this hour, it still didn’t hurt to be careful. Chan was about to beg you to stay when he saw you walking away, but he stopped as soon as he saw you lock the door, excitement flooding through his body.

“One time.” You pointed with your finger as if to make a statement, “This is only happening one time.” You quickly slide your shorts and underwear off which reveal a wet patch on the pantie liner from your arousal. Chan stared at you in awe as he saw your glistening cunt, he was quick to follow suit in taking off his jeans and sliding his boxers down as well.

You swing your leg over his lap sitting hovering above his hard cock. “Pretty girl I’ve gotta stretch you out first or it’ll hurt.”

“You’re not that big Bang.” You poke, it was a lie he was big, not super massive but definitely above average to the point where it probably might burn.

You grab his cock which makes the messy haired boy hiss, aligning up to your entrance before sinking on to it. It did burn, but it was tolerable, you just focused on the fact that it’ll feel better soon. To distract you from the pain Chan started rubbing soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs, he shushed as you started moving your hips in circles.

“Oh fuck.” Chan moaned after you finally adjusted, your hips letting up before smacking back down. “I’m gonna fill this pussy up so much right baby. You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up.” You throw your head back as Chan helps you with lifting your hips. You hum, nonsensically agreeing to whatever it is that Chan wants at that moment.

“Yeah, you’ll fill me up so good.” You moan.

Chan suddenly starts forcefully thrusting up into you, directly hitting your g-spot. “Oh fuck!” You almost scream, you quickly catch yourself by biting down onto Chan’s shoulder. He groaned as your teeth sunk into his skin, but he wasn’t complaining, cause now he’s gonna have a mark that reminds him of right now.

“C’mon babe, I’m almost there…shit,” Chan pushed your hips down as he rutted into your leaking cunt. You held onto him as the feeling of that familiar knot in your stomach started tightening, “Me too.” You shut your eyes as you allowed your orgasm to come putting down over you, you slumped against Chan’s chest as he continued plummeting into you.

You cried at the overstimulation, “I know baby, I’m sorry- I’m cumming.” Chan buried his face in your neck as he spilt inside of you.

The warmth of him filling up your insides. Chan carefully pulled out and cleaned you up with the small box of tissues that was at the corner of his desk. . And as if nothing, the two of you both went back to working on the lyrics. Occasionally sparing lustful glances at one another. Chan realized he’s not gonna be able to tease Stay again without thinking of you.

[bzurk]

“Reader who decided to go to like a free use club pretty much, the only thing showing was her ass/legs/pussy the rest of her was hidden behind a wall Met 4 people anonymously online and they agreed to play out that fantasy so she wasn't fucked by a whole bunch of random people, had the explicit request that they write those cheese things on her in sharpie yk like "cum slut" "cock whore" just all that, so even when she washes it off for a few days those will be lingering Back at work she bends down to grab something, her shirt hikes up and Johnny very clearly sees their captain's hand writing on her Ohoho they found their little anonymous minx”

um sorry not sorry

cw: f!reader, free use, degradation, spanking

Your calves burned from the strain of your high heels, legs straight and stretched and precariously balanced. They made your legs look miles long, smooth and soft, every curve begging to be touched - just like you'd planned. But now, you cursed them. The arch of your feet screamed in protest with every subtle shift in your stance, the balls of your feet aching under your weight, throbbing with the relentless pressure.

Your ankles wobbled every now and then, fighting to keep your balance, your toes cramping in their confines. This wasn’t part of the fantasy you’d imagined, this strain, this dull, incessant pain that throbbed in sync with your racing heartbeat. Tears burned your eyes.

You’d surely made a mistake. Nobody was coming, you’d been lied to. Made to stand, exposed, like a gullible fool. The cold air against your bare skin felt cruel, mocking, the chill biting at your flesh as if the room itself knew you'd been abandoned.

How could you have fallen for it? They’d seemed so genuine online, so convincing, playing into every fantasy. Too good to be true, and now you were paying for it.

The hole in the wall felt like a pillory, an embarrassing punishment you’d walked yourself into. The first tear slid down your cheek, bitter and hot, when the door creaked open behind you.

A presence filled the air, thick and heavy, making your heart lurch. Your breath hitched in your throat, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. Footsteps echoed faintly on the floor, each one slow, deliberate, purposeful. Someone was there. You could feel their eyes on you, their gaze grazing your exposed body like a physical touch, and your skin prickled with the awareness of it.

Closer. The footsteps drew nearer, the weight of their approach filling the room, pressing against you from all sides. You were trapped, your heart pounding in your ears, your body trembling - not from the cold anymore, but from the anticipation, the fear of what came next.

The footsteps stopped just behind you, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of their presence against your bare skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as the silence thickened, tension coiling tighter around you with each second that dragged by. You couldn't see them, couldn't move, your body frozen in place as you waited, nerves crackling like electricity beneath your skin.

The bench under your chest was slick with sweat as you wriggled in place, brimming with a nervous, anticipatory energy with no way to expel it, the wall chafing around your waist.

It started when a single finger brushed the small of your back, the touch light as a feather, yet sending shockwaves through your entire body. It lingered, tracing slow, delicate patterns against your skin, feather-light, teasing. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, your breath coming in ragged pants as the anticipation built to an unbearable peak.

They had to hurry, hurry up, or you’d combust. They’d already left you waiting so long. But you had no say in this, did you? You’d signed it away, the ball no longer in your court, and you loved it. If just a fingertip felt electric, what would their hands feel like, their mouths, their cocks?

Then, without warning, a hand cupped your ass cheek, a firm grip that left no doubt who was in control. The touch was exhilarating, jolting through you, and you gasped, body arching reflexively, hips pressing backward into the touch, heels arching and shoes scrambling against the floor. A deep, gravelly chuckle rumbled in the room, a sound that sent chills down your spine.

“What a convenient little hole,” the stranger purred, their voice a low, husky growl, dripping with hunger. “Just what we need, hm?” Their words washed over you, heat blooming in your belly as they squeezed your ass, each touch igniting you further. “Waited so patiently, didn’t you?” A pause, deliberate, as the grip tightened. “Already so needy.”

A second set of hands, just as large and firm as the first, ghosted over your other cheek, squeezing, kneading, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned, unable to control the sound that spilled from your lips.

"That's what I thought," came a second voice, low and pleased, dripping with satisfaction. “Now, relax,” it commanded, the edge of authority sharp and undeniable.

Without warning, they spread you apart, exposing every inch of you in the most humiliating way, a wet squelch echoing as your body responded, slick and desperate. And then you felt it - hot, hard, the head of a cock pressing insistently against your entrance, seeking its way in.

Please, please, pleasepleaseplease-

The words swirled in your mind, a mantra of pure desperation, but the only sound that left your lips was a pathetic, needy whine. Your knees shook, weak under the weight of your need as those hands pulled away, leaving you trembling, exposed, wanting.

“No, no, please-” you hiccuped into your arms, folded beneath your head, the words breaking as a sob slipped through. Your hips twitched, pressing helplessly against the bench beneath you, desperate for more, the burn of their touch still scorching your skin.

"You look just like I imagined," one of them murmured, deep and smooth, tinged with dark amusement. New hands trailed up your thighs, teasing, maddeningly close to where you needed them most, only to pull away, leaving you gasping. “You’ll take what we give you," they chuckled, revelling in your frustration. “No more, no less.”

"You’re already soaked," the first voice purred, thick with approval, the smug satisfaction dripping from every word. It made your cheeks burn, the heat crawling down your neck, flushing your skin as much as the desperate ache between your legs. You were on fire, burning with the humiliation of your own need, the way your body betrayed you with every twitch, every quiver.

A shameless moan wrenched its way from your throat as a finger slid inside you, cool and deliberate, parting your slick folds and delving deep. It scraped against your insides, slow and unhurried, dragging out the sensation until your toes curled and your back arched. You couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop yourself, the sheer intensity of the intrusion sending shockwaves of pleasure rocketing through you, making you gasp, shudder, pressing back into the touch.

You could feel their eyes on you, could hear the amusement in their chuckles as they watched you squirm, watched you fall apart with just a finger.

“Look at you,” the second voice murmured, closer now, a whisper against your skin that sent shivers racing down your spine. “Already falling apart, and we’ve barely touched you.”

A whimper slipped past your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily as that finger curled inside you, hitting just the right spot, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your already overwhelmed senses. Your mind was a haze, lost in the sensation, every nerve on fire, every touch igniting something raw and primal within you.

"More," you whispered, though the word came out broken, ragged. It was barely more than a breath, a plea that hung in the air between you.

But the fingers stilled, pulling back just enough to leave you aching, empty, desperate.

A strong hand came down hard against your ass cheek, the sharp sting radiating through your body like lightning. You gasped, more from shock than pain, though the heat spread quickly, leaving your skin tingling.

"Good holes don’t talk," one of them growled, firm and commanding, the words biting into you like a warning.

The authority in his tone left no room for argument, no space for anything but submission. You bit your lip, swallowing down any protest, your heart racing as the stinging warmth from the slap settled into a dull, aching throb. Your whole body tensed, bracing for more, every muscle coiled tight as you fought to suppress the need rising inside you, the urge to beg.

Another hand slid across your other cheek, soothing where the other had struck, a dark contrast between punishment and comfort. They knew what they were doing, playing with you, keeping you on the edge. The air around you felt charged, thick with the scent of your arousal and the oppressive weight of their presence.

Another hand, rough and confident, settled firmly on your hip, pulling you back just slightly, aligning your body with their demands. The head of a cock pressed against your entrance again, the heat radiating from it a stark reminder of what was to come.

“You asked for more,” the voice purred, satisfied. “So be a good hole and take what you’re given.”

The command was clear, the tone brooking no argument. Your body, trembling and desperate, responded instinctively, hips arching back, seeking that elusive pleasure that seemed just out of reach. Each touch, each command, was a reminder of the power dynamics at play, of the role you’d willingly accepted and now had no choice but to fulfil.

And just like that, one of them was inside you, one thrust, hard and deep, claiming you with a dominance that left you breathless, gasping. They didn’t stop, didn’t slow, another thrust and another, each one driving you deeper into the bench, the world around you falling away as you clung to the burning sensation that seared through your every nerve.

“Tight, so damn tight,” he panted, a mixture of awe and lust in his voice as he continued to pound into you, relentless and merciless. The rhythm was all-consuming, the sound of skin slapping against skin the only thing that broke the silence, punctuated by your strangled moans and their low groans of pleasure.

The bench creaked below you, cheap wood protesting under the onslaught of their hips, of your desperate grinding as they fucked you, each thrust driving you further and further from reality, from the world you thought you knew.

“You like that, don’t you, you dirty little whore?” another voice hissed, words punctuated by the wet slick of skin on skin. “Bet you’re clenching so tight on him.”

And it was true, your muscles were clenching, contracting around the invading cock, gripping and twisting as if to hold onto the pleasure, to extend the moment indefinitely. You were a hot, wet cavern around their length, taking them in, welcoming the intrusion with a slickness that spoke volumes.

"Fuck, you're so tight," the man inside you groans, his words a low, deep growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your world narrowed to this, to the cock inside you, to the feeling of raw, primal lust, the faceless man ravishing your body, reducing you to nothing more than a hole for their pleasure. The humiliation only fueled the fire in you, stoking the flames of your arousal as they brought you closer to the brink.

"Cum for us, whore," one growled, their voices melding together, hands gripping you, pinching you, touching you until you saw stars.

Their words sent you over the edge, the humiliation and the need and the overwhelming sensation of being so thoroughly used combining into a white-hot ball of ecstasy that exploded through your veins, your entire body convulsing around the invading cock.

“Look at you,” the first voice chuckled, triumphant, as your pussy spasmed around him, milking every last drop of his climax from him, his hot seed filling you, “Dirty slut.”

Their words echoed in your mind, even as the world around you blurred into a sea of colour and sensation, even as you lay there, panting, spent, and utterly broken in the best way.

You almost missed the feeling of a dull point against your skin, dragging and looping against the surface, lifting and then pressing. Writing.

More, you wanted them to touch you again, needed something to replace the emptiness. More, more, more. You wiggled in place against the drag of the marker. It only earned you another swat to the smarting skin of your cheeks.

—

‘Dirty slut,’

‘Dick here →’

‘Cumdump,’

Every time they came, they’d write on you - a brand, a claim, proud and stark against your slick skin. It only ended when the marker stopped running, clogged by all manner of fluids - cum, sweat, spit.

The four men watched, satisfied and sated, as your holes twitched and leaked, your legs slumped and weak and quivering, toes barely scraping the floor.

Kyle had gone first, as agreed. Johnny too eager, Simon too big, the captain too rough.

They took their turns, in order of largest to smallest, longest to shortest, in all the ways possible until it devolved to whoever was ready to go again, until your body was nothing but a mess of aching muscles and abused orifices and marker streaks and bruised cheeks.

“Fuck,” Johnny groaned from where he had slumped in the corner, hands twitching against the ground and his pants half-heartedly tugged back over his thighs. “Do we hafta leave?”

One of your legs twitched out and kicked, and the captain huffed a laugh, “Poor thing has nothin’ left in them.”

Price’s hand skated along the mess of cum and sweat and ink, collecting it on his fingers, and you flinched against the touch, still so sensitive, overstimulated.

“Might have broken them,” Simon snipped, flat, but not even he could act unaffected, his chest visibly rising and falling, sweat coating his visible skin.

“Yeah,” Kyle agreed, strained, sliding a hand down your back, “But it was bloody worth it.”

“Not going again, are ya?” Johnny guffawed from the floor.

“Much as I would love to see that,” Price drawled, but his tone was fond, “we gotta go. Time’s up.”

“Fuck, man,” Kyle groaned, parting with one last pat on your cheeks.

“I know.” Johnny helpfully added, voice wistful. “I’ll miss this ass.”

“Then next time, don’t come so fast,” Simon muttered, and it was the exact wrong thing to say, because they all laughed.

“Next time?” Johnny repeated, incredulous. “Fuck LT., I’m not sure there’s going to be a next time, I have nothin’ left in me.”

—

"Hoooo-lyyyy shit," Kyle blurted, gripping Johnny’s arm as if to steady himself, though his gaze remained glued to the phone in his hand. His voice trembled with disbelief, excitement, and a tinge of something more. He was practically buzzing with the revelation, his eyes wide in awe as he absorbed the image.

"Jee Sus, Mary, and Joseph..." Johnny muttered under his breath, his Scottish accent thickening with astonishment. The look of disbelief on his face mirrored Kyle’s as he leaned in closer, trying to process what he was seeing.

“What are the two of you lookin’ at-” Simon started, only to cut himself off as he swiped the phone out of Kyle’s hand with a swift, almost aggressive motion. Kyle staggered slightly but didn’t bother protesting. His mind was too occupied with the image burned into his retinas.

Simon’s eyes flicked over the screen, his expression shifting from irritation to something far more intrigued. His gaze lingered on the photo: Price’s assistant, the shy little thing that hardly said more than a few words at a time, stretching to grab something from a high shelf. Her shirt had lifted just enough to reveal faded, smeared ink scrawled across the smooth skin of her back, just above the waistband of her slacks.

The words, though blurry, were unmistakable.

The realization hit Simon hard, his grip tightening around the phone. He shifted his gaze to Kyle and Johnny, who both stood there, jaws slack, equally stunned.

"Fuck me," Johnny breathed out, breaking the silence, still staring at the screen like it was some sort of hallucination. "The assistant? Who would've thought she had it in her?"

Simon finally exhaled, passing the phone back to Kyle with a grunt. "Price has a way of... managing things, doesn’t he?" His voice was low, filled with a dark suggestion that hung heavy in the air.

Kyle glanced down at the phone again, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "Never would’ve pegged her for that type. Quiet little thing, but..." He gestured vaguely at the phone, at the faded writing that told an entirely different story.

Johnny laughed, the sound sharp with disbelief. "Looks like there’s more to that lass than we thought." He shook his head, still trying to reconcile the image of the shy assistant with the evidence on her skin.

"Wonder if she knows who got her marked up like that," Johnny mused, puffing out his chest with a wide smirk.

Kyle’s phone pinged with another photo from their captain, and Simon raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, she knows."

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

SugarMommy!Wanda

A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about her. I'm a sucker for this trope

CW: Use of mommy kink

"Baby, come here," Wanda's smooth voice calls out for you. You're in the middle of changing into a brand new silk pajama set as she calls you. You quickly slip on the shorts and walk out of the closet, finding her sitting on the bed. One leg crossed over the other, green eyes focused on the screen of her phone, gorgeous brown curls flowing over her shoulders. There's a slouch to her back as she reads her screen, thumb scrolling up.

You sit down next to her, laying your head on her shoulder. She wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against her. "Yes? Is there something you need?" you mumble softly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Her skin is warm and soft, the scent of rose and honey wafting into your nose.

"You said this is what you wanted, right?" Wanda asks, turning her phone screen towards you. Displayed on her screen is the opal necklace with a matching pair of earrings. She continues to scroll through the online cart, seeing that there's the dress and shoes you were dying for.

"Oh, yes!" you say, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and laying your cheek against her shoulder. "I've been thinking about them all week! Wouldn't they be perfect for the party this weekend?" The mayor is hosting a grand party for the Avengers and of course they're allowed to bring a plus one.

"Definitely," she grins. "And if I buy it now...they should arrive the day before."

"You're the best!" you exclaim, planting a fat smooch on her cheek. You go to stand up, but she tightens her grip on your waist, keeping you next to her.

"But," she starts, clicking her phone off and setting it down on the nightstand. Very slowly she begins to lay you down on the bed, climbing over you, her knees on either side of your hips and her hands on either side of your head. You breathe heavily, heart pounding against your chest as she begins to trace the pulsing vein in your neck. Her green eyes bore into your eyes, her curls having fallen over her shoulders and barely graze your skin. "You know what you have to do to earn your things, baby." She leans down, her lips hovering above the shell of your ear. "Mommy can't buy you anything unless you work for it," she whispers, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You shudder out a breath, eyes half lidded, lips curled into a sultry smile. You wrap your arms around her neck, rubbing your thighs against her waist. "I didn't forget," you murmur, leaning up to lick her lips, "mommy."

Wanda lets out a soft satisfied noise, leaning down to press small kisses into your neck. Her kisses sends heat straight to your stomach, the tension between the two of you thickening. You shift beneath her the moment her lips meet your pulse point, your breath caught in your throat.

"Did you like that?" she mumbles against your heating flesh, laying on the side of you to continue to pepper kisses into your neck.

Your eyes flutter shut and you nod your head, chest falling up and down quickly. "I did."

"Hm? Baby, repeat that for me, please," she says, slipping her hand into your silk shorts to rub her thumb against your hip.

You gulp. "I-I did, mommy. I liked that."

Wanda lifts her head up, winking down at you. "That's a good girl." She returns to kissing your neck, her hand gripping and massaging your hip. You breathe heavily, her delicate touches driving you mad. You turn your head, lips brushing against her forehead.

"You're just teasing me, aren't you?" you ask, trembling when her teeth nip at her skin.

"No, baby, I'm just taking my sweet time savoring you," she says softly, licking up your neck.

You grab her hand that's in your shorts and guide it towards your quivering pussy, having her feel how wet she's gotten you. "Please, I'm desperate," you pant, rubbing her fingers against your wet folds.

"Wow," she chuckles, taking control of her hand and brushing her fingers over your velvet heat. "I forget how sensitive you are." She kisses the corner of your mouth, breathing heavily against you. "But you know what you must do if you want mommy to make you feel good."

You let out a small whimper, nodding your head. Begrudgingly, you peel yourself out of bed and rummage through the drawers. You pull out the strap with a thick dildo attached and lube, setting them on the bed. You slip out of your silk pajamas and toss them onto the floor, knowing you won't be wearing them for the rest of the night.

You yelp when you feel something smack your ass and turn to see Wanda propped up, a red glowing light flicking around her hand. She winks. "Couldn't help it, baby." She stands up and peels off her clothes, and you can't help but observe her body.

In the light of the waning sunlight, her body glows. The sun reflects off her soft, brown skin, casting a aura around her. You trail your eyes up and down her heavenly body, noting the building muscles in her thighs and ass. You trace the curve of your hips with your gaze, over her chest and towards her beautiful face, finding she's as well checking you out. She catches your stare and chuckles, taking a step towards you and wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling your flesh against her.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered to you before pressing her lips against yours, sighing softly. You melt into her warm embrace, tingles buzzling around in your lips. You wrap your arms around her neck, hip against hip, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Wanda makes a soft noise, massaging your hips as she begins to bring you to the edge of the bed.

The back of her knees hit the bed and you both fall into the mattress, you right on top of her. You prop yourself up, staring down at her before you both break out into a laugh, reconnecting each other's lips. The kiss is soft and slow at first, but overtime her hands go from your waist to your ass, squeezing. You moan against her lips as she kneads at the flesh, giving you a firm slap. You gasp against her mouth and she uses this opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

Wanda's wet tongue swirls around your mouth, tasting what you had for dinner earlier. She squeezes your ass harder, pressing your hips into hers, rubbing her tongue against yours. You tremble against her warm body, breathing heavily through your nose as she explores every inch of your mouth, leaving no surface untouched. The heavy make out causes the world to spin and you struggle to stay up on your hands and knees, your slit fluttering in response to her sloppy kiss.

You're the one to break the kiss, gasping for air. A string of saliva connects your tongue to hers, both of you panting. You let out a breathless chuckle, laying your body on hers, lips hovering above her ear, "I'm going to make you feel so good."

Wanda shivers at your notion, a smile on her face. "It's about time you did," she teases, trying to rile you up. "I was debating whether or not to delete that cart if you hadn't made a move soon."

You bring your knee between her legs and begin to grind it against her soaking pussy. She gasps, her hands finding purchase in your elbows. You trace the outline of her ear with your tongue, relishing in her soft whine.

"You really think I don't want to make mommy feel good?" you whispered hotly into her ear, grinding faster. She trembles beneath you, back arched off the bed as her pussy leaks against your knee. Her nipples brush against yours, adding in delicious stimulation. "Well, mommy? Do you feel good?"

"S-So good," Wanda moans, nails digging into your skin. She lifts her head to face you, sweat beading on her flushed skin. She leans up to lick your lips, flashing a sultry smirk. "Such a good girl for mommy," she purrs, hands now gripping your hips and giving them a firm squeeze, encouraging you further. "If you make mommy cum, I promise to fuck you so good you'll forget everything except how good I'm making you feel."

You pick up the pace of your leg, grinding your knee against her dripping cunt. You groan at the thought of being pinned beneath Wanda, her hands pushing your knees to your chest and her thrusting into you, the thick dildo stretching your walls apart. You bury your face into the side of her face and she laughs breathlessly, patting your ass.

"Yeah? You want that, don't you?"

"I do," you whimper, feeling her hips twitch as you roll your knee in circles. She moans lewdly, back arched.

"Oh, good girl, just like that," she pants, nails digging into the plush flesh of your ass.

Wanda bucks her cunt against your knee, fully lost in the world of pleasure. She squirms, eyes fluttering shut and lips formed in a perfect o. Her wanton moans echo in the room followed by the slight squeak of the bed frame. You listen to her sweet noises, face buried in the crook of her neck and inhaling her decadent scent, desperate for her to reach her release.

You're impatient, even.

You remove your knee, relishing in her groan of disappointment, which is quickly replaced by a gasp the moment your lips touch her firey flesh, kissing trailing down her trembling stomach. You mouth at her pelvis teasingly, tongue grazing over her skin and she bumps her thigh against your head.

"No teasing," she said, propping herself up on her elbows. "You're going to finish what you're started, understood?"

You nod, spreading her thighs apart and peering down at your meal. "Yes, mommy," you murmur before licking a stripe up her cunt, smirking at her sharp inhale of breath. The sweet taste of her pussy pulls you in and you're buried between her glistening folds, nose pressed against her puffy clit.

Wanda grips your head, her own falling back against her shoulders as she lets out a loud moan.

"Oh, yes!" she screams, velvet heat pulsing against your tongue. "Oh, keep doing that and you're mine all night long."

You moan between her folds, tongue lapping over her fluttering slit. You press your fingers firmly into her plush thighs, fingers dipping into her flesh. You suck and lick sloppily at her heat, unable to get enough of her sweet nectar that melts onto your tongue. It's as if you've been lost in the desert for days without food and water and for once in what seemed like an eternity, you're finally quenching you're thrist and you're not sure that you can stop.

You spread her lips open and press a kiss against her clit, as if in apology, and wrap your lips around her bundle of nerves and torture it. Wanda gasps silently, eyes wide and mouth dropped open, her hands gripping the sheets in pure desperation. You suck and suck and suck on her clit, pushing her knees into her chest in order to put your pure focus on it.

"I-I'm close!" Wanda cries out, her sweat covered body writhing. "Oh god, I'm close! Keep doing that! Fuck! Oh, you're such a good girl for mommy!"

A few more sucks and licks and she's cumming all over your face, her cunt squirting. You're quick to catch every drop of her fluids, not daring to let even a speck go to waste. You sit back on your knees, patting her thigh, a delirious smile on your face.

"Mmm, thank you for that, mommy," you purr, licking your lips. "You taste so-ack!"

Wanda had grabbed your wrist and pulled you down onto the bed, back facing the ceiling. You attempt to flip over but she presses a hand to your lower back, clicking her tongue.

"Stay on your stomach," she says, but tilts her head. "Actually, get on your hands on knees while I get the strap on."

Who are you to disobey?

You immediately get on your hands on knees, a dip in your back as you purposely arch your hips up. You hear Wanda behind you preparing herself. She slips into the strap and flicks open the cap to the lube, pouring a generous amount onto the dildo and stroking it. She pours a glob onto her hand and rubs it against your folds, the gel cold and causing you to shiver. You bite down on your lip when she slips two fingers into you, spreading the lube around.

"Are you ready?" Wanda asks, voice dripping in desire. Her fingers are still inside when she spreads you open, tapping her plastic tip against your dripping entrance.

You tremble, suppressing a whine. "O-Oh, mommy, I'm ready," you pant, wiggling your hips. "Please, please fuck me."

She wraps a hand around your neck and forces your head back, leaving you gasping for air.

"You want mommy to fuck you good, hm?"

You whine when she squeezes slightly and you push back against the dildo, whimpering as it slides between your folds.

"Mommy, mommy please! I need you inside me," you plead desperately.

She nods approvingly, guiding the tip back towards your entrance. "That's my good girl," she purrs right before sliding in.

The rest of the night, as promised, you're at the mercy of Wanda. She drills her plastic cock into your velvet heat, relishing in your moans and screams. You're either on your hands and knees or bent over the bed, wrists behind your back. The bed frame slams against the wall with every powerful thrust of her hips.

Orgasm after orgasm is pulled from you, your body shaking every time. You'll receive a break when Wanda sits on your face, demanding you to eat her out and of course you comply.

Wanda pounds into your cunt, lips attached to your neck, murmuring praises. A lewd smile is glued to your face, eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Oh, this is so worth it.

[soldiersareyourprotectors]

Greg had always been a night owl. For years, his nightly routine consisted of scrolling through fitness blogs and watching workout videos, dreaming of a day when he might have the body of a Greek god. At fifty-five, he was overweight, self-conscious, and hesitant to be seen at the gym during peak hours. It was this insecurity that led him to arrange private, after-hours training sessions with Nick, a young, muscular personal trainer renowned for his ability to transform even the most hopeless cases.

Nick was the epitome of physical perfection: six-foot-two, with chiseled abs, broad shoulders, and biceps that strained against the fabric of his workout shirts. He was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. But Nick was also kind, patient, and professional, which is why Greg chose him.

For the past month, Greg had been meeting Nick at the gym every night at 11 PM.

Despite their efforts, Greg saw little progress. His frustration grew each time he looked in the mirror, each time he saw his belly protruding, his arms flabby. Nick encouraged him, reminding him that real change takes time. But Greg was tired of waiting.

One night, after another grueling session that left him drenched in sweat but still feeling hopeless, Greg's desperation reached its peak. He had stumbled upon an obscure online forum that mentioned a mysterious cream capable of switching bodies. It sounded like nonsense, but Greg was desperate enough to try anything.

On the fateful night, Greg slipped the cream into his bag. He approached Nick, his heart pounding with a mixture of guilt and determination. As they wrapped up the session, Greg feigned a sudden cramp and asked Nick to help him stretch.

Nick, ever the professional, complied without question. Greg seized the moment. With a swift motion, he pulled out a small device from his bag—a stun gun he had bought online. Before Nick could react, Greg pressed it against Nick's side. The trainer's body convulsed before he collapsed, unconscious.

Greg's hands trembled as he stripped Nick of his clothes, revealing the sculpted body he had long envied. He marveled at the smooth, hard muscles, feeling the texture of Nick's skin, taut over solid muscle. His fingers traced the defined lines of Nick's abs, the powerful curves of his biceps, the strength in his thighs.

With Nick unconscious, Greg opened the jar of cream, its strange, pungent scent filling the air. He began to smear it over Nick's body, making sure to cover every single inch. He started with Nick's broad chest, rubbing the cream into the firm pectoral muscles, down to the rippling abs. He coated Nick's strong arms, his biceps and triceps glistening under the layer of cream.

Greg's hands moved lower, applying the cream to Nick's powerful thighs and calves.

He hesitated for a moment, then spread Nick's legs apart, ensuring that he rubbed the cream thoroughly into his buttocks. He marveled at the firmness, feeling a surge of both envy and excitement. Finally, with a deep breath, Greg reached for Nick's dick, carefully and methodically rubbing the cream onto every part of his genitals, ensuring not a single inch was left uncovered.

Satisfied, Greg stripped himself, feeling a mix of revulsion and hope as he applied the cream to his own flesh, mirroring the thoroughness with which he had treated Nick's body. He rubbed it over his own sagging chest, his flabby arms, his protruding belly, and finally his legs and genitals.

As he finished, a strange tingling sensation spread through his body. His vision blurred, and he felt a dizzying rush, as though he were being pulled apart and reassembled. When the sensation finally passed, Greg looked down and gasped.

His body was no longer his own. He flexed his new muscles, feeling the power in his limbs, the strength in his core. He was Nick.

Nick, now in Greg's old body, began to stir. Panic and confusion twisted his features as he looked up at Greg. "What did you do?" he cried, his voice weak and unfamiliar.

Greg, now towering over his former self, smirked. "I'm sorry, Nick. But l've waited too long to feel like this. To be admired. To be powerful."

Nick tried to stand, but the weight of Greg's old body overwhelmed him. "Switch us back," he pleaded, his voice breaking.

Greg shook his head, his smile cruel. "Not a chance. I plan to enjoy this new life. Your life."

Greg turned his attention to Nick's discarded clothes. He picked up Nick's sweaty tank top first, holding it up to his face and inhaling deeply. The scent of Nick's exertion was intoxicating. With a sense of reverence, he slipped the tank top over his head. It fit perfectly, hugging his new, muscular frame in all the right places. He admired how it clung to his new pectorals and biceps, a testament to his newfound physical perfection.

Next, he grabbed Nick's jockstrap. The fabric was still warm and damp from Nick's sweat. Greg shivered with delight as he stepped into it, adjusting the straps around his muscular thighs and feeling the snug support it provided. He relished the sensation of the tight material against his skin, a stark contrast to the loose underwear he was used to. He then took a moment to adjust his new, large manhood within the confines of the jockstrap. The feeling was exhilarating. It was a tight fit, but it felt incredible-just as Nick always must have felt.

Greg then reached for Nick's socks. They were soaked with sweat, but he didn't care. He pulled them on, one by one, feeling the damp fabric mold to his feet. The sensation of Nick's sweat-soaked socks against his new, powerful calves sent a thrill through him.

He continued with Nick's shorts, sliding them up his legs and fastening them around his waist. The shorts fit like a glove, accentuating his muscular thighs and providing just the right amount of freedom and support.

Finally, he picked up Nick's shoes. They were well-worn, molded to the shape of Nick's feet. Greg slipped them on, lacing them up tightly. As he stood up, he felt a surge of invincibility, the shoes giving him a sense of grounding and power.

"You can't do this," Nick pleaded again, desperation in his eyes. But Greg ignored him, too engrossed in the transformation and the feel of Nick's clothes on his new body.

With that, Greg opened the gym door and unceremoniously shoved Nick outside, locking the door behind him. As he turned to leave, he heard Nick pounding on the door. Suddenly, the pounding stopped, replaced by a gasping, choking sound. Greg turned around and saw Nick-his former self-clutching his chest, his face contorted in pain.

Nick's now old heart was failing under the stress of the transformation and the shock of his new reality. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, trying to draw breath.

As Greg walked away, leaving his old body-now Nick's-struggling on the ground, he felt a surge of excitement. He was no longer the fat old man, he now was Nick, the Adonis.

[flawlessflesh]

cecil is the thistle expy i made for a roleplay group i joined! he's started taking on a life of his own though...

in this rp, the mundane world and the supernatural secretly co-exist. cecil lives with his family in an underground bunker deep within washington state's hoh rainforest. the family is locked away and cecil believes he's protecting them from harm. he spends his days digging a frighteningly complex system of tunnels throughout the forest, convinced that if he can reach the black river deep inside the earth that's haunting his dreams, he'll be able to find his brother del's missing soul.

^ cecil being hounded by a good samaritan (samson's dorothy <3)

i'll share the public bio i wrote for cecil under the cut hehe

Cecil of the Talayi family began appearing in New Portsmouth grocery stores and libraries a few months ago. He isn't occupied by any work or schooling and he disappears for long stretches of time into the Hoh Rainforest.

A receipt Cecil discarded shows the following purchases: a wheelbarrow, five 50-pound bags of concrete mix, gloves, a large pack of 2x4 lumber, steel pipes, an industrial saw, and a bag of sour gummy worms (berry blast flavor).

When he was a young child, Cecil was given a home by the Talayi family. There is no official adoption on record and it is unknown exactly when Cecil was brought in. The family's head at the time, Farhang (فرهنگ), was an Iranian immigrant who made his fortune in Silicon Valley - Cecil believes he owes everything to him. Cecil was homeschooled alongside his younger brother, Del (عادل), who he helped raise. These days he is his brother's primary caretaker.

Farhang Talayi was assassinated by poisoning in 1991 by suspected corporate rivals. The murder trial was long, arduous, and inconclusive. Contemporary newspaper articles and tv footage of the investigation are archived online.

Ten years after the trial, the Talayi family moved from the bustle of Silicon Valley to New Portsmouth. Del bought property deep in the forest and built a private compound ringed by high walls. The Talayis made a few half-hearted excursions into the town's social scene, but they kept to themselves for the most part, homeschooled their children, and now have not been seen in public for many months.

Those initiated in the Secret World will look at Cecil and know he is a Protoplast - a name given to an insular race of humans whose proximity to Flesh diverged them from Homo sapiens thousands of years ago. Not much is known about Protoplasts beyond their natural skill with the Flesh font and their unusual physical characteristics: androgyny, elongated goat-like ears, hair and eyes lacking melanin, and rumors of extended lifespans. They are viewed with awe and wariness - anyone so close to Flesh should be handled carefully, of course. Most Protoplasts seen outside their clans are in the employ of the rich and powerful, a living status symbol. Cecil is no different.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: hybrids, hare hybrid König afab! reader

summary: hare hybrid könig, anyone? mostly a joke fic that's been spinning in my head for a few months

So you're the picture perfect cottage core, forest living gal. Real off the grid - well, sort of, everyone needs their WiFi, right? Anyways you're up there with your little vegetable garden, spending most of your days roaming the forest and foraging. If you're not doing that, you're gardening. Little did you know..there's a hare in the woods. A big one too. You've heard the rumors from passing travelers - rumors that were big hybrids up in these woods. Horror stories too, sounds at night and the typical scary stuff that makes you sleep with your head under a blanket and a knife tucked under your pillow.

You weren't stupid - not to your own terms, anyways - but you were maybe a bit naïve. Especially when one early morning you wake up to the noise of something scritching at your door. So you tip toe your way to the door, knife tucked behind your leg and your bare feet quietly stepping on the planks that didn't creak. You check the peep hole...and nothing? Clearly, you've never watched a horror movie either. Because you open the got damn door and are met with the wide-eyed sight of a man sitting his ass down before the door. He was cute, maybe even a little disturbing. Wide uncanny eyes, freakishly fucking long. At first, you really did thing you had finally come across one of those cryptids you heard about online. And then he snuffled, nuzzling his face into your hip.

And like any living being with a soul, you took him in. Apparently, his name was König. He was very clearly a hare hybrid from hell. Ate whatever you fed him and ten times more. Also practically lived in your warmth. Occasionally tried to piss places he shouldn't, which met the wrath of your flying shoe. "Are you gonna let go?" You ask one day while you're gardening. He had been hugging you from behind for three hours now. It was cute at first..but it was getting a bit ridiculous.

"No." König rasped. His voice boyish and a bit raspy. But his words were enough to quickly end the conversation.

You also did try to kick him out in the past, gently, of course. Mostly little shoves about how it was spring and there were probably lots of yummy berries and vegetables sprouting up already. But he just kinda grunted and continued to nibble at the fucking rib-eye steak you made for yourself. Greedy bastard. It wasn't all bad though. Occasionally at night König would tuck you in real close to his chest, and he smelt pretty nice! His heart was always pounding rapidly. He'd nuzzle and sniff at you gently, which honestly was kinda nice when you were having trouble falling asleep.

"You smell good." You mumble, staring up at his wide eyed expression. König would chuff back at you, nibbling your flesh gently. "Because you are my girlfriend" "Oh! Yeah. That makes a lot of sense." "Wait..what?"

this was a not a joke fic please write more hare hybrid konig

[kaelio]

To be honest, a lot of the politics you see online--on Tumblr and Twitter--are predicated on the biggest posters with the biggest followings being people who had a lot of potential they squandered, and their spite drives them to encourage other people to engage in self-destructive behaviors. That's also why you see a lot of "gifted kid" discourse from them, while sprinkling in the occasional "lol why even go in to work, fuck your boss." They're mad other people succeeded. They're more angry that other people succeeded than they care if they succeed. They want things to suck as much as possible so other people are on their level, even if it means, for the most part, people being dragged down and certainly not lifted up. Black unemployment is the lowest it's ever been and they secretly want to throw that away so that immigrants get shot at the border, because behind 99% of these snappy, cynical accounts is someone secretly seething that immigrants who come to America tend to benefit from that and apply it towards the welfare of their families, as productive members of a community. They pretend to be "left-wing" but look at what they're actually doing. Look at the implications their preferences actually have. They need that because if you actually evaluated their stances and the implications of the behavior they promote, it's a pound of flesh at everyone else's expense. The lowest quintile of incomes is doing better under Biden than in the last 40 years (very much taking into account inflation, because it's been driven by low-income workers finally being paid more and this being reflected in the cost of goods and services). If they cared about uplifting the poor, they'd tell you things like that. And on matters of foreign policy, since that's what they're using as cover right now, they'd be upfront about the foreign policy differences between the two parties (e.g. Trump got his Muslim ban and wants a stronger one, and it is constitutional, and he will do it--including his literally announced plan to deport anyone on a visa who protests, which is also actually constitutional).

Among other things, their professed position tends to rely on the idea that the USA is uniquely despicable but the US government should also be bigger and do more things for people. Any actual political thinker who is thinking politics-first will have a coherent answer to that, because it's on-its-face contradictory. But again: it's not driven by actual political principles, they're working through personal resentments and using politics to make you think you should listen to them and validate them.

[aethon-recs]

This Week in Tomarrymort (12 – 19 September 2024)

Hi everyone, so sorry this is a couple of days late this week! Will be back on the normally scheduled time next week!

As with last week, please feel free to add a little overview/summary about your update to the notes! I so enjoyed reading all the notes last week 🤍

(And in case you missed, a recap of the extra notes from last week!)

Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (E, 37k, WIP) [source] "Harry comes in swinging from a bleak version of sixth and seventh years, fully intending to kill Tom. Unfortunately it seems the only people Tom and Harry are incapable of killing is the other. Harry's on attempt 4 and counting and this time he gives up on spells and decides to punch Tom Riddle's nose off. Tom's still utterly enamoured with him." friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight (E, 11k, WIP) [source] "When after four long years Harry and Tom meet again, the world turns upside down. Or maybe it was upside down all along, and it’s now flipping back over." These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain (M, 23k, WIP) [source] "Things have gone from bad to worse, and Harry is finally about ready to take matters into his own hands…even if it means defying the normal laws of Magic and actually doing something for himself for once. (Guess which one will be harder for him 😂) In this update, Harry and Voldemort unexpectedly come face to face for the first time since the Dark Lord's death…which leads to a disturbing realization for Harry." Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 13k, WIP) [source] "A Harry-corrupts-Tom AU: Tom expects to feel victorious at his greatest enemy's confession. Instead, he develops a crush on him." the crushing weight of cancelling your fav by @cindle-writes (M, 4k, complete) [source] "Tom Riddle has made millions and built a cult following around his politics-themed online stream, much to his boyfriend Harry’s bemusement. However, bemusement quickly turns into concern when Harry meets one of Tom’s biggest, most fervent fanboys, Regulus Black."

Now onto the updates from this week!

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Chapter 22 (Completed) of A Shot in the Dark by Ragdolly

One Shot | The Dinner by moontear for @moontearpensfic

One Shot | There's Something About (The Way You Are) by Ragdolly

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 1 of bad moon rising by sansaerys

Chapter 11 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

Chapter 2 of a pound of flesh by @ictyn

Chapter 8 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 34 of Part One - The Solitude of Suffering by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 18 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapter 14 of Double-Aspect Paradox by TimaeusKosmou

Chapter 6 of God is a Wizard by @onehitpleb

Chapters 121 through 123 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 17 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 1 of The Cosmos In Your Eyes by @v33r00

Chapter 7 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 6 of These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain

Chapter 21 of Time Stumbler by Wintumn

Chapter 4 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 1 through 3 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapter 16 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 5 of midnight train by @girl-with-goats

Chapter 43 of Of Monsters, Of Men by @ca-xan-dra

Chapter 2 of the body is a blade by @lovely-lotus

Chapter 2 of Dream a little dream (of me) by @cenedrariva

Chapter 12 of Just Business by @holaolla1

*

[veliana]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Tw : Yandere behavior,toxic relationships, social isolation, emotional manipulation, invasion of privacy Genre: Angst Word count: 795 A/n: I wrote it for fem reader

You are a writer specializing in fanfictions about fictional celebrities, and your Tumblr account is starting to attract attention. Your style is sharp, sometimes dark, with touches of black humor.

One night, Adrian Blackwood, a renowned actor, stumbles upon one of your fanfictions during a bout of insomnia. The precision of your descriptions and the raw emotion in your words captivate him.

Adrian begins to anonymously follow your blog. Each new post becomes an obsession, and he stays up late to read your new stories. He discovers your Twitter and Instagram accounts, following you under fake profiles to keep up with your daily life and intimate thoughts shared online.

Adrian sends you a private message on Tumblr under a pseudonym, complimenting the depth of your writing and the accuracy of your insights. You respond politely, flattered by the attention from this mysterious reader. A regular correspondence begins, brightening your days with his words.

After weeks of correspondence, Adrian reveals his identity in a long, passionate message, confessing how much your words have touched and changed him. You are shocked and incredulous, but also deeply touched that a celebrity of his caliber could be your secret admirer.

Adrian insists on meeting you in person. He sends you an invitation to a VIP event where he knows you can talk privately. At your first meeting, Adrian is even more charismatic in person. His presence is mesmerizing, and you feel immediately drawn to him.

You sit nervously at the reserved table in the chic restaurant, casting furtive glances at the door. Every clink of glasses makes you jump, your heart pounding. When he finally enters, a magnetic aura seems to surround him. Adrian Blackwood, in the flesh, smiles at you with a warmth that melts all your apprehensions. "You are even more lovely in person," he says softly, taking your hand to place a light kiss on it. His deep blue eyes seem to read you, deciphering every emotion with unsettling precision.

Quickly, Adrian begins to show signs of possessiveness. He insists that you disable comments on your posts to "protect you from unnecessary criticism." He calls you several times a day, pretending to be concerned about you. He asks for photos to prove where you are and with whom.

Adrian starts sending expensive gifts to your home: designer clothes, jewelry, and even electronic devices to enhance your comfort. He proposes that you quit your job to dedicate yourself fully to writing, promising to meet all your financial needs.

When you express your concerns about his intrusive behavior, Adrian wraps you in his arms, murmuring reassuring words. "I just want to protect you, my love. No one understands how precious you are to me." His tender gestures and soothing voice make you doubt your own feelings, and you begin to believe that his intense love is normal.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, the curtains drawn to let in a faint ray of light. Your head spins slightly as you try to recall how you got there. The door opens softly, and Adrian enters with a breakfast tray. "Good morning, my darling," he says with a sweet smile, placing the tray before you. "I found you exhausted last night. I thought you needed to rest." A shiver runs down your spine. "Adrian… I don't remember coming here… " "Don't worry," he murmurs, caressing your cheek. "I'll take care of everything."

Adrian subtly uses his celebrity status to isolate you from your friends and family. He invites you to exclusive events where you are the only person he seems to really see. He convinces you that no one understands you as well as he does and that your creativity will thrive better without outside distractions.

This story can take several directions: you might try to escape from this toxic relationship with the help of loved ones, or you might sink deeper into this unhealthy dependence, unable to break free from Adrian's grip.

You walk quickly down the street, casting worried glances over your shoulder. Every silhouette seems suspicious, every shadow a threat. You have finally decided to flee, to free yourself from Adrian's stifling hold. Suddenly, a firm hand grabs your arm, pulling you into a dark alley. You struggle, but his grip is too strong. "I told you, you can't escape me," Adrian whispers in your ear, his voice soft but menacing. "You belong to me."

Adrian strengthens his hold on you, using his fame to constantly monitor you, even hiring private detectives to follow you. Your world shrinks to him, every decision you make influenced by his obsessive love. You are caught between the allure of his affection and the desperate desire to regain your freedom.

[alternative-ffa]

You have always had an irresistible desire to gain weight, but societal pressure and expectations always kept you from indulging.

It took a while before you were even brave enough to search about weight gain online. But you quickly fell through the rabbit hole once you discovered how many people out there shared your most secret desire.

You finally felt the courage to succumb to the gluttony that you knew you were always capable of. Your appetite grew along with your waist line.

Gaining took longer than you expected and you were impatient. Your fantasies took a darker, more impossible, turn: the pleasure at the idea of gaining hundreds of pounds in one sitting. Watching as your body ballooned and the weight glued you to your bed.

The thought always got you rock hard. But when reality kicked in and you realized it was unfeasible, a tinge of disappointment clouded your thoughts.

Night fell. Laying in darkness, you let your fantasies run through your mind before sleep. Drifting off you suddenly find yourself in a much bigger bed. Above you is a large tank of milky fluid and a young woman stands by your side in silence. You try to take in your surroundings when all of a sudden a tube is shoved into your throat. You cough, then watch as the fluid above snakes it's way through the tube. It hits your stomach and you immediately feel full. It's a pleasurable feeling and by instinct you reach down to your belly. Your fingers spread out, holding each side of it as it gets harder and fuller. Then you realize that you're expanding. Your belly gurgles and suddenly you see it eclipsing your feet. Your hands explore the new fat, soft and jiggly - and you're gaining so quickly there's something new to explore every second.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the young lady again. She is by the wall, pressing a button. You hear gears shift above you and suddenly a mirror appears on the ceiling. At this point, trapped on your back, growing fatter and wider by the second, you don't recognize your reflection.

Groaning, you don't want to admit how turned on you are by the pile of flesh you've become. You're rock hard again, but can tell it's surrounded by fat and forever unusable. This doesn't bother you. All you can think of is the fluid filling your stomach and your fat cells multiplying almost exponentially. Suddenly you notice the sides of your belly are touching the mattress. You look up at your reflection again. Your face is unrecognizable, and you're almost as round as you are tall.

Moaning, you try to get the young woman's attention. She ignores you. Now you begin to feel fear. "How much fatter am I going to get?" You think; knowing immobility is long past. With the tube in your throat you can't speak, but you want to tell her to stop this. Your belly is now hanging off each side of the mattress. You look up at the mirror and see it hiding even your knees. The huge fat stomach looming in front of your eyes gives you a jolt of terror and pleasure as you realize you'll never move again.

You jolt up in bed. Your alarm is blaring. Quickly you reach down to your belly... and you're disappointed it was a dream. Sighing, you now have a goal of immobility - desperate to again feel the pleasure of being too fat to move.

[8-dermestid]

Hello, I hope you are well! Recently I read a fanfic of yours on Ao3 about Ticci Toby and I fell in love with your writing!! I loved the way you develop the characters and their feelings!! 🤧💕✨

I would like to know if you write for Creepypasta X Virus, it is one of my favorites but there is almost no content online about it 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

Anyway, I saw your requests are open! If the idea pleases you, I would like to ask for headcanons of X Virus and Toby (or just Toby) with a reader who practices magic and has somewhat "dark" tastes (interest in poisonous animals/plants and the supernatural as a whole, in short, just a scary and adorable nerd at the same time!)

Thanks!! 💚

ahh! hello-hello!! i read x-virus' story and took notes for these, i really enjoyed writing Cody, so thank you very much for the request :-]

i rlly liked this request, and this is actually the first time i've ever done headcanon-ish things, i hope you enjoy these (bc i enjoyed writing them a lot)

x-virus & ticci toby: reader with macabre interests

relationships: ticci toby x reader, x-virus x reader

word count: 1.5k

links: available on ao3

x-virus warnings: animal death (off-screen, animal body shown) animal dissection, taxidermy, canon-typical violence

ticci toby warnings: canon-typical violence

☣︎ X-Virus | Cody _____ ☣︎

You let it slip one day that you wanted to try taxidermy, an embarrassing guilty pleasure you were confident you could keep under wraps, but Cody’s just been so nice about your eccentricities and you couldn’t help yourself.

“They use bugs in the process, lots of museums have them to clean the bones because they’re better than the best person with the best tools—” You pace back and forth as Cody watches you from your bed, “—Because that’s all they do, all they do is eat rotting flesh off the bone. The bones last much longer when cleaned by any Dermes—”

You stop yourself from mentioning the insects by their scientific name, embarrassed that you let your ramblings slip away like that.

Cody leaves the next day and you’re left alone with your thoughts. Maybe there’s another mansion full of serial killers so you can start fresh, your ears burn recalling how excited you got talking about flesh-eating bugs.

A few days later, Cody returns to the mansion with a limp raccoon and some things it stole from the local morgue.

You spend the entire night together trying to preserve this creature’s hide, you take it apart with precise motions, expertly moving the scalpel along the skin and parting flesh and sinew. You soak the skin in salts, rubbing it into the bloody underside until you smell like copper and the salt mines.

The whole room smells like formaldehyde, too.

✸ ☣︎ ​​✸

Cody is so excited to share its books with you, all of them. You spend long evenings together curled over a battery-powered lantern and ten-pound textbooks, occasionally mentioning an interesting tidbit when you come across one. Your books are filled with flattened foliage from the surrounding woods, poisonous plants and flowers, plastic baggies filled with poison ivy leaves, and hand-drawn diagrams of each plant’s internal structures in a ballpoint pen. It flips through each page carefully, examining each specimen, complimenting each note and observation.

“You should open a museum,” It says, running a finger over a pressed Conium maculatum. That snaps you out of your science headspace.

You should, but you can’t. “Besides, who would enjoy a museum like that?” You argue.

“Think about the Mütter Museum,” It quips back, “If people frequent a museum full of pickled people-guts and spines, I’m sure people would go to yours. People like flowers.”

In another universe where violence wasn’t at the forefront of your mind, maybe you’d be the curator of a weird little museum full of oddities.

​​✸ ☣︎ ​​✸

“Toby comes here all the time to burn CDs, don’t worry, the cameras stopped working years ago and they never bothered to fix them,” Cody pushes open a window and climbs into the air-conditioned computer lab of the local library, “Just don’t knock anything over, I guess.” It jokes.

You drop through the window and feel goosebumps form on your arms, you haven’t felt air conditioning in years.

Cody unlocks the door leading to the rest of the facility, you walk side-by-side, dragging your fingers over the spines of dozens of books.

“You know the Dewey Decimal System, right?” Cody asks, there’s a thrill with breaking in, especially for pleasure (rather than worrying about killing every occupant in a house, you both can focus on finding a specific edition of a book you were dying to read).

“By heart.” You joke, guiding it to the 500s: Natural Sciences.

You spend five hours squished up together reading from the same book. It points to a diagram and you explain every minute detail, Cody listens eagerly to your explanations, wanting to ingrain every word that comes out of your brilliant, perfect brain, and memorize the way you describe the venom sacs of the Hydrophis schistosus.

 The way it rolls off your tongue—Hydrophis schistosus—Cody wants that to be the last sound it ever hears, the sound echoing forever in its brain until the heat death of the universe.

You creep down to the 200s and find a few textbooks about niche religious practices. You tell Cody about the rarity of cannibalistic religious practices, and the prevalence of cannibalism in some movies ticks you off.

“Cannibalism isn’t that common,” You scoff, “It’s more than socially taboo, it’s biologically taboo. Ever heard of Kuru?”

“Tell me.” It begs.

✸ ☣︎ ​​✸

⦻ Ticci Toby | Tobias Erin Rogers ⦻

Every word that comes out of you flies over his head. Even though he doesn't know a thing about what you’re telling him about, he’s completely and utterly enamored. Toby never graduated high school, and—for the most part—he’s glad he didn’t have to spend any more time around high-school people. 

He misses learning. Sometimes Toby thinks he’s stupid, Tim and Brian went to university, and they have high school diplomas with their names on them somewhere, Toby has nothing except an honor roll card from the eighth grade. You’re so brilliant, maybe part of him thinks he’s weighing you down by stopping your ramblings to ask for clarification. He’s so deep in thought he hasn't been paying attention to your talks about the Ghent Altarpiece’s connection to ancient practices of animal sacrifice.

“Does it bother you when I do that—when I don’t know things a-and you gotta explain it to me?”

You’re sitting on the porch together looking out over the rolling fog, he sucks in a breath, the tip of a Marlboro lighting up orange-hot.

“I like it, actually.” You say matter-of-factly

Toby’s diaphragm sputters as smoke spills from his nose, and he coughs hard into his elbow. “...Doesn’t it—But I’m interrupting you because I’m too stupid to get it the first time—”

That word gives you pause, and Toby tosses away the cigarette butt and curls into himself, shame burning hot on his face.

“I don’t think—”

“E-Everyone does,” He cries, “I-I can’t help it, I couldn’t even finish high school. Tim and Brian made it to college, at least.”

You push yourself into his personal space, knocking your knee into his as you lean over to share a secret.

“I can teach you if you’d like.”

Toby’s red-hot shame melts into a giddy flush as your warm breath lands on his ear.

✸ ⦻ ​​✸

The next victim that comes Toby’s way—a family of three with a prying-eyed teenager getting too close to discovering the mansion—grants you both access to the internet for a time.

You start with Wikipedia, it’s good practice to get bare-bones information that starts the deep dive. Marine Biology is the starting topic because the random article Wikipedia spat out at you was about the bigfin squid.

Toby mumbles aloud as he scrolls through the article, the picture on the right left the hairs on his arms standing on end. Little is known about it because it dwells so deep, and scientists aren’t entirely sure why its distinct long arms are there.

“Nobody knows how it feeds?”

“We know more about space than our oceans,” You say, “We have pictures of the Big Bang.”

Toby rolls back on the wheeled chair and pushes the keyboard to you.

You open a new tab and open the search bar.

COSMIC MICROWAVE BACKGROUND.

He pulls back in, opening the third link that pops up. You sit quietly as he devours an entire article explaining the picture’s existence, he’s vibrating in his chair. Toby continues the search without your input, googling words and finding plenty of pictures of smattered space dust orbiting tiny, dense stars.

The pictures of the black hole shake him to his core, nebulae give him chills, beautiful planets and star systems and moons and—

Alpha Centauri grabs a hold of Toby’s body and keeps him there. He pushes the monitor towards you and you read along with him, he’s shaking with excitement, free hand flapping excitedly as he scrolls through the academic journal.

He prints out a few pictures before the police show up, the cosmic microwave background bathing the room in greens and blues and smatterings of yellows and reds.

✸ ⦻ ​​✸

He starts stealing books from the library, as do you. You take turns showing and telling. He shows you astronomy books and you show him textbooks about the history of taxonomy; you spend hours sitting across from each other on the floor exchanging knowledge.

“I’m—I’m glad we did this. Thanks for doing all of—of that.” 

You peek over an academic journal you’ve read at least seven times, smiling softly as Toby puts his new collection of literature into a box and pushes it into the closet. He piles a few flannels and shirts over the box to camouflage it amongst his dirt laundry.

“Why’re you doing that?”

Toby turns to you and turns away meekly, “...It’s our special thing, you get it? I don’t want anyone getting into our business. This is our thing. Our special thing.”

A warmth creeps up your neck as Toby holds your gaze. You close your journals.

“Babies have more bones than adults.” You whisper, your hand splayed over his shoulder blades, “About three hundred.”

Toby’s breath hitches as your hands warm the spot where his cervical vertebrae end and the thoracic meet.

“H-How many are—” He covers his mouth to cover a shaky breath, “—i-in the spine?”

“There are thirty-three vertebrae. Seven cervical,” You and trails down his back, “Twelve thoracic,” you creep further, “Five lumbar,” Lower and lower you go, “Five sacral,” You’re getting bold now, “...And four coccygeals.”

You hold your hands there, Toby enjoys the warmth radiating from your fingers, he wants to melt into you like watered-down clay (you would call it slip since you know everything). He wants to read books with you for the rest of his life and not do anything else.

He wants you to count every rib, every tooth in his mouth, every bone in his hands and feet—counting and counting and counting until he's dizzy.

✸ ⦻ ​​✸

[codenamesazanka]

OKAY. Got it. Shigaraki dies, and goes back in time. To the day OFA was transferred to Deku…

rough idea/summary [part 1]

•

Shigaraki wakes up in a bed in the Doc’s lab, head pounding, crazy vertigo, feeling awful. Apparently he had suddenly collapsed. Kurogiri brought him to the Doctor, who didn’t seem to find anything wrong with him. AFO is there to check on his ward. 

As the Doctor runs some more tests, Shigaraki tries to regain his bearings. Try to make sense of himself, his surroundings, all the stuff swirling around in his mind. Shigaraki tells AFO that he had a dream, where he died. There was a war, a big one, between Heroes and Villains. He destroyed a lot of things. He fought until the very end to destroy. 

AFO listens, smiles, saying that it sounds like a good dream. Is that what you want, Tomura? To destroy everything? 

Shigaraki considers, and says, Maybe. He considers some more: everything that happened in his 'dream' - all his suddenly now-recovered memories, his new knowledge and experiences. A whole life he just had, and a death.

He's read about this before... mostly in badly-written online light novels. Someone going back in time and getting a second chance. Re-doing their life, with various cheats, to right everything. Taking a different path, taking missed opportunities, taking revenge; all to become a hero, fulfilling their dreams. Absurd power fantasy stuff.

So what’s his stupid power fantasy? What does he want? Shigaraki thinks, and out of everything that just happened/will apparently happen... there's only the League that comes to mind. 

In those light novels, the main character always has to tread lightly, has to keep everything a secret and pretend nothing is wrong and keep walking along the old familiar path until he has harassed the power to change things... But Shigaraki considers killing AFO (again) right here and now. So he confronts AFO the way he never got a chance to do.

Sensei. In my dream...You told me that you gave me my quirk. And not just that. You told me that everything that happened was because of you.

AFO is caught, smile frozen... but then relaxes to a real smile again; laughs. It's a surprise, to be sure, but it's wonderful. AFO has always looked for a time travel quirk. To think that one does actually exist...

Plus, it looks like AFO really had raised Tomura successfully. AFO thought such a revelation would shatter him, but Tomura braved through it. He's still here. A strong, ironclad willpower - exactly what AFO wanted, after all.

So let's get started.

Shigaraki tries to attack/defend, but AFO is faster, stronger, and has that Rivet Stab quirk, literally pinning Shigaraki down.

Foolish child, biting the hand that fed you. AFO monologues - without him, Tomura wouldn't even exist. AFO made him; he belongs to AFO, always had, always will. All that Tomura is, AFO gave to him. And now Tomura will give it all back. 

With that, AFO tries to take Decay—but for some reason, he can't. 

Because Shigaraki was the one who was able to steal Danger Sense from OFA; the one who was able to reject being given OFA, even. And now, if he doesn't want to let Decay go, then AFO can't take it. Shigaraki is the one with the stronger willpower, and he is so much more than AFO has made him. He's so much more than AFO can ever be.

Taking advantage of AFO being momentarily stunned, Shigaraki is able to free himself. He has to break and slice apart his hand, but still, he's free, so he proceeds to decay AFO. Hand to his head, hand to his chest, hand through to the heart. Decays every last bit of flesh he can grab and clench into nothingness. Super-regeneration can't help here.

(Moments too late, proto-Noumu is unleashed by the Doctor to stop Shigaraki, but Shigaraki decays them too. And part of the lab, for good measure.)

It's a bloodbath. ❤️

Afterwards, Shigaraki confronts a cowering Doctor, his aura of fear literally immobilizing the old man. Knowing AFO and the Doc, they probably have a backup plan or five. A copy of AFO (quirk) somewhere, obviously, but what else? A clone? Some sort of memory transfer to a digital brain? The Doc is unable to answer, but Shigaraki doesn't care too much about it right now. Just don't even try digging those out. Shigaraki will deal with him later - there are things Shigaraki needs to confirm and deal with first.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Omega Bucky is Alpha Steve’s Dom. Steve is only allowed to come when it pleasures Bucky, which means only when Bucky is in heat. The week leading up to Bucky’s heat is full of increasingly torturous edging so that Steve is ready to service his omega and Dom.

And when Steve has his rut and can’t stop himself from coming, Bucky makes sure to polish his cock after so that he remembers his cock and knot are for Bucky’s use only.

I'm so, so down for this!! And I think I recommend this fic series every time someone brings up nontraditional omegaverse dynamics, but, listen, it's just that fucking good and it happens to be exactly what you want 👀 Omega!Dom!Bucky and Alpha!Sub!Steve

"Breaking Tradition" by AndreaDTX

Fic recs aside, there's something especially delicious about omegaverse (it's the animalistic sex, that's what, lmao) and adding dom/dub dynamics on top... ✨️yeah✨️ that's even better.

So, let me just cut to the chase because it's mouthwatering to think about Steve being denied, denied, denied until Bucky's finally in heat.

Beware this contains: omegaverse, heat/mating cycles, dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, breeding kink, edging, no actual cum play but... the impression of it? Sure, I'll warn you for that, lmao., and more!

'Groggy' and 'stifling' are the only two words to most accurately describe the sensations that hit Bucky like a ton of bricks upon spontaneously becoming conscious.

Jesus.

Christ.

Bucky is thrown into the waking world (it's still fucking dark outside, either too late or too early, and what difference does it really make, at this point), and his whole axis has been tilted off-kilter and dipped into a hot spring of syrup. Unsteady, sticky, bubbling, and hot.

Bucky grumbles in annoyance--Steve must've laid himself across his body again, using him like a pillow to cuddle squish in his sleep, clinging hard, and thus turning Bucky into a melted ice cream bar because he also insists they sleep with blankets thrown on top of them. He's a fucking two-hundred-plus pound furnace. He does not understand that Bucky's threats of dying of heat exhaustion in the night are very real. And just as Bucky is gathering enough strength to shove at his big, unfortunately endearing oaf, Bucky's internal balance rights itself, coming online, and--

Ah.

Of course.

At this god-forsaken hour, Steve hasn't thrown himself on top of him like a human weighted blanket, not fully, at least. Instead, he's simply squirmed and slithered his way down to spoon Bucky's ass. Typical big, dumb alpha, Bucky thinks to himself, smirking sleepily. He's already nuzzling deeper into his actual pillow, and not an ass, thank you very much, Steve, and readying himself to go back to dreamland, when...

Oh.

That's why it's so hot in here.

Bucky's systems are finally blinking back on enough to tell him that it's not Steve's body heat. Rather, it's his own. He's sweating and bubbling thickly inside, boiling up, not Steve. He's sweating. Shit. He's covered in a drenching gloss--sweat, and, yup, squirming just enough to feel his ass cheeks slide against each other confirms that it's also slick.

He can feel how wet he is between his cheeks. Puffy and swollen and leaking. Just the sensation of his own flesh sliding past itself as he sleepily writhes is... good.

It's heady.

Heat is to blame for the stifling atmosphere thickly wrapping them both like a winter-heavy quilt. But, as humming and tight as his heat already is underneath his skin--an itch just begging to be scratched--that's not what woke him up. He could've slept for a few more hours before he would've woken up to his heat-crazed need by his heat-crazed need. So, the heat and wetness may be his fault, but the fact that he's awake is not his fault. That's Steve's fault.

Steve. Bucky can't keep his mind away from his bonded alpha. He never can. Steve, his big, dumb alpha who's currently snoozing with his face smushed up against the small of his back. Plastered to him with his mouth statically open in his sleep just to literally fucking drool because of the rich, heady scent of Bucky's unconscious arousal. All his slick leaking in slippery, thick rivers between his thighs and dripping farther onto their sheets, saturating them with wetness. Ruining them. These aren't even their seasonal sheets that will sooner be ripped to shreds than have the scent of Bucky's heat and Steve's rut washed out of them.

Goddammit.

It isn't just Steve's drooling, though, that woke him. Between Bucky's own sweat and his slick, a little more wetness wouldn't've jostled him from his dreamless sleep, crashing hard before his heat takes over and keeps him up. Nah. It's more than that.

Bucky has been woken up by Steve and how he keeps fucking whining in his sleep.

"Mmmngh!" Steve squirms in his sleep, too, not because he's wet but probably because he's trying to rut his accordingly achingly hard cock against their mattress. Urgent and unthinking in his need for release.

"Mmmmmmmmmnnn!" His next sound is drawn out and even more desperate than before. He really just can't modulate his own patheticness when he's knocked out and sleeping. It's delicious.

"Mmh! Mmh!" Steve's following wave of drool spilling against Bucky's dimples of Venus leaves his eyelashes fluttering. Just a little. He can't help it! No matter how dom he is, there will always be part of the instinctive omega inside him that enjoys feeling a little like prey; prey to be stalked and attacked and torn into with lips and teeth and tongue, so delectable that he demands to be salivated over. However, Bucky is very dominant, too, in addition to his omega nature, so... he would be lying to deny that the little, soft-sounding, achy-needy hurt coming from his alpha isn't also doing it for him.

Bucky's previously slack hands curl into fists as a rumble builds in his chest. High, nasally sounds just keep slipping out of Steve so easily. His noises are so desperate and so needy, despite how unaware he really is of what's going on--Bucky's heat rising like a tide, approaching the choke-point where he'll begin to drown--he just knows the primal need. The alpha deep in his hindbrain will howl for his omega, even in his sleep, wanting nothing more than to have his omega and claim him. And the submissive side of him will whine for his dom, too, knowing he's not allowed to get off--not without permission. Not when Bucky knew his heat was on the way, and he wanted his alpha to be backed up and ready for it.

God.

God damn.

Bucky wants to be more annoyed than he is at Steve for waking him up. He wants to tease his cute little alpha, so tightly wrapped around his finger. But, fuck, that watering, drooling, sloppy mouth sounds so good right about now. So does anything. Jesus. Bucky could go for a good fucking knot.

Yeah.

Yeah, that's what he wants.

Under his breath, Bucky purrs deeply, almost a growl like something an alpha would make.

He wants it so bad that he only allows himself a few luxurious, wallowing moments to twitch and grind back against Steve's dead weight against him--toying with the idea of waking him up by (lightly) suffocating him, rolling him over slowly so as to not wake him too soon, then, when he's on his back, straddling his face, setting his leaking hole on his open mouth, and waiting for the sweet taste to leak into his taste buds, drip down his throat, and rip him out of his sweet little dreams to catapult him directly into the dirty work of stretching his dom and omega open for his knot with just his filthy, talented tongue. Bucky shivers harshly. If the sweet, pitchy whines of his sleepy alpha sound good to his ears, then Bucky knows the realizing moan when he wakes up would be devasting.

Still, Bucky does not ultimately go with that idea. He does roll his alpha over onto his back, though. And he chuckles to himself when Steve breathily squeaks in his sleep, surprised to be turned over and flopped onto his back. Bucky does not perch himself on those fat lips and that sweet tongue, no matter how good it fucking sounds. Rather, he paws at Steve's sleep pants. How he doesn't die of heat stroke in his sleep, Bucky will never know. At least, he doesn't sleep with a shirt on, that would be a fucking sin with tits like that. Anyway, he starts to get his pants out of the way, and--

"Yeahh," Bucky hears himself involuntarily moan, the word all low and throaty as it exits his lips, vibrating his chest with how deeply he feels its sentiment. Yeah. Yeah, that's what he fucking craves. That fucking cock. That's what he wants to see. And, God, is it a sight right now. The moon is just bright enough outside to illuminate their bedroom, thank fuck.

His cock is always fucking perfect but it's more than after the two, two-and-a-half weeks leading up to Bucky's heat during which he has been keeping his alpha on a short leash.

In those weeks, Steve has been allowed to have pleasure but only incomplete pleasure. Bucky's locked his big, thick cock up for safekeeping, the key dangling around his throat--a carrot on a stick for his eager little alpha bunny. When Bucky wasn't riding that cock, using it for himself, cumming as many times on it as he pleased without letting Steve have a single orgasm, Steve has been in his cage. There was no release for him. He got pleasure whenever Bucky was using him, but it was not complete. No big finish. Plus, evilly, when Bucky was riding him... he was squeezed into a cock ring. One of their more unkind rings to ensure he didn't accidentally trip and fall over the edge to make a mess. Nobody wanted to deal with such a big mess! Stupid, silly alpha. During that torturous time, sleeping was the only period he was allowed to be unrestrained, and it would only stay that way if Steve could behave himself and not hump Bucky, their pillows, or the bed in his sleep. So far Steve has been good and has not tried to take anything for himself while resting, but now that he has... fuck it. Bucky has his heat breathing down his neck, anyway, making him reckless and so, so, so many days without an orgasm later...

That cock is drop-dead gorgeous.

Bucky can't possibly refuse that cock.

Steve is so painfully hard already, raring to go but obviously owned. Always owned. He is fucking eager to sate his omega and, if possible, even more desperate to please his dom. He's been denied so fucking long that, already, in his sleep with nothing more than the firm, receptive mattress to hump, his knot is a little more than half-inflated at the base of his already very thick cock. Bucky rarely sees his knot outside of a hot, wet hole--Bucky's mouth, ass, or a rut toy--and every time he does see it, fucking Christ, he's reminded how big it is. He's amazed, again, that his body can take that shit. Jesus. Bucky's hole quivers and clenches, just looking at that. Shit. He's gonna need four fingers, at least, to stretch himself open--it doesn't even matter that he's heat slick and heat loose. That's how big that fucking thing is.

He's a big boy. Thick and fat with veins clear on his shaft and pre-cum spilling over the head of his engorged, angry cock. The moment Bucky sits himself on that cock, inarguably his knot is gonna pop and Bucky will have so much drawn-out time to squirm and writhe and rock on his fully fucking huge cock, spearing his guts and getting him so full inside. Full of cock. Full of cum. Loose. Sloppy. Bucky is gonna be fucked good this heat. He is. He's driven his alpha crazy with purpose--his alpha is gonna need every bit of his dom's orders to get through this because he will be brainless. He already is brainless! And he hasn't even woken up yet! Bucky shouldn't be so good to himself. He should be meaner to Steve more often...

Yet, Bucky can't keep his moan to himself when he keeps pawing at h him--peeling Steve's pants down further and getting them off his legs to reveal those balls.

Jesus. Fuck.

There's something even fucking more squirm-inducing about the sight of his heavy testicles than his cock itself. The most ancient, primal omega, usually locked up in his hindbrain brought to the forefront by his imminent heat, is so fucking pleased to see heavy, swollen balls, backed up with cum. So full. So fucking ready to empty into him and knock him up. Fuck yes. His alpha is fertile. Virile. Nghh. Has there ever been anything more fucking attractive? Bucky's omega and dom sides are both hard-pressed to think of an example that comes close when he's so scrambled by his boiling heat. Alpha. Mate. Knot. Breed. Alpha. Mate. Knot. Knot. Knot. Breed. AlphaAlphaknotalphabreed. His mind is racing with every instinct that demands to overtake him.

So, of course, the only thing Bucky can do is grab his alpha's blessedly naked, thick legs and pull them apart, digging his nails into his hairy thighs to make room for himself and unceremoniously shove his face right up against those swollen balls, rubbing his alpha's virility against his face.

Bucky is pretty fucking sure right before his eyes roll back into his head--the heat, the musk, the heft--that his eyes cross. He's dripping, just getting himself this close to his alpha's fecundity. It's animal.

Steve echoes his gutted groan with a sudden, sharp cry of, "mmmmghhhohh, ohmygod!"

Steve is tumbling out of sleep painfully abruptly, spreading his legs apart even more and urgently gathering his strength to get his arms underneath himself, trying to find his bearings. The only thing that registers to Bucky is how he opens himself up immediately upon waking, good alpha, Bucky thinks, richly purring as he starts to lav his tongue against his balls, taking one of them into his mouth at a time. The heat coming off of them is unreal. His alpha is boiling. His arousal doesn't want to be contained anymore--pushed to his limits after more than two weeks without orgasm.

He's big.

Thick.

Engorged.

And Bucky is fighting between taking his first knot between his lips, stretching his jaw to its limits, going until it hurts and he's choking, or taking it in his hole where it'll burn just enough to get him off that much harder. Gah! Fuck! Bucky's greedy, innermost omega needs so badly to be stuffed full. Please. His dominant side is gleeful, though, cut loose by his shameless heat and ready to take.

"Oh!" Steve is flailing, trying (and failing) to grasp onto anything, "oh my God! Buck! 'Mega!" His voice is all pitchy and cute, so surprised even though he should be more than used to this by now--servicing his omega and dominant. Steve's hands scramble across the sheets and his own skin. His instincts undoubtedly want to grab and shove and bite and take, he's in the same room as a fragrant, in-season omega for fucks sake. But he doesn't. He's too well trained. His sub side knows all too well that grabbing and trying to take will get him nowhere. Instead, the best he can do is fist their sheets or dig his nails into the palms of his own hands and gasp in lungfuls of slick-sweet air, waiting for Bucky to tell him what he wants from him. What he's allowed to do. What he can take (because Bucky gave him permission first, of course).

Bucky feels it--what he needs. It's that sweet, hot pull of heat in his body. He knows what he needs. He knows how to get it. But, he just--

He's got to rub his face against his balls a little more. He wants his scent to soak into his skin. He wants to be marked by his submissive alpha's pre-cum, dripping sticky across his forehead and cheeks while he goes at it with his balls. God. Stevie is gonna cum so hard when Bucky finally lets him. He's gonna blackout with the force of it. And he's gonna flood Bucky's hole with cum--gonna knock him up real good. Gonna be a good little service alpha and give Bucky want he wants when he's drenched with slick and unfathomably fucking horny.

And JesusfuckingChrist is he horny.

Bucky can't fucking stand it. Not for even another second. His wants, his needs, all of them are screaming so fucking loud they're indistinguishable from one another as they war inside him. Bucky's omega instincts demand to be bred, wanting to roll over and present to his alpha to be mounted. Shove his head down but arching his throat to the side to be bitten, spread his legs, and expose his gooey, sweet center. Ripe for the taking. But, his dominant instincts know that sitting back and being given everything wouldn't be half as satisfying as taking for himself. Taking viciously. Ripping the pleasure he needs out of them both. Sitting on his alpha's cock to dictate exactly how and when he takes each fraction of all his overly well-endowed inches, drawing out every pained groan of denial from his alpha, and then telling him exactly when he can give him a baby, when he gets to breed him, and when he gets to give in to his own instincts clawing to get out from inside him.

His.

His alpha.

His submissive.

His Steve.

Fucking Christ. It's too much. And while warring inside, Bucky grits his teeth against it all, growling. Then, he lifts his head from those too-good balls just enough to bite and suck a mark into Steve's hip.

Instantly, Steve's hips jackknife off the bed, crying out. Any other alpha would growl and get violent at being bitten by an omega. But not his Steve. Not his alpha. His alpha moans, just as hot for being bitten as he is for biting. Perverted and perfect.

Enough, Bucky's heat demands, no more fuckin' foreplay, he needs. Needs. And so he releases his teeth, barely sparing a minute to lap and lick at the mark he's proudly left on his alpha's strong, capable body. Quickly, he rises to his wobbly knees to stare down his alpha, waiting for him to whimper and bare his neck. Fuck. That will never not send surges of power and desire through Bucky's entire body. Right now, it's enough to make him quiver and go light-headed. But he won't melt. He won't succumb to the hazy dizziness and, instead, he throws one leg over Steve's trim waist. There's no time to waste when he's dripping like a faucet, clenching painfully around nothing, his chest heaving, body feeling so, so empty. There's so much, right here, to fill him. He needn't need any longer--he'll take the way he was always meant to.

[mygoo]

I'm going to outlive my son. It's the saddest realization for any parent, but it's one I can't deny anymore. See, my son is fat. No really, faaaaaat. Take whatever you're thinking in your head and double it, heck triple it even and you're probably still thinking too small.

His mother and I tried for years to get him active, to get him interested in the outdoors, sports, heck any physical activity, but the only physical activity he cared about were ones that ended in food.

We tried at first to guide him into making better decisions. Surely as he matured he'd realize that all the food and all the weight wasn't worth it, but the gentle treatment didn't work. We never wanted to be strict parents, but we decided that drastic measures had to be taken when he reached his teens with his weight still climbing. We rid the house of anything unhealthy and kept an eye on his eating like a hawk and he finally started dropping weight to our slight comfort.

Looking back now I see how short-sighted we were. It's one thing to control your kid, but he won't be a kid forever. At some point he's going to need independence, a job, a car, all the facets of a normal adult life and hopefully someone to share it with. Out on his own he could eat as much as he wanted, when he wanted, especially once we found out his first job was not what he originally told us, but a job at one of the local fast food joints.

Slowly at first, but surely his weight started creeping up again. He'd bounce around between jobs depending on what cuisine he was especially feeling and how long they'd keep him on before realizing how much he was literally eating into their profits. We'd failed. Just like his youth anything he did was motivated by food. We were all out of ideas. Time passed by in this stalemate, the only needle moving faster being the one on our bathroom scale.

We had thought about kicking him out, but at this point I don't think he could even live on his own. He had every weight-related medical condition in the book, every one a missed wake up call to turn back. Things that people in their 50s would start worrying about, not someone less than half their age.

Getting on disability took away the last reason for him to ever get off his copious ass, so it's no surprise that his mobility vaporized shortly thereafter. Some days I wonder if he'll see 30. It'll surely be a miracle of medical science if he does.

I couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse the day I found his online persona, through the further I looked, the more I gravitated towards the latter. It finally made everything make quasi-sense, a reason for the way he lived his life, if you can even call it that, but it did so in such a disgusting, heartbreaking way. He catalogues his gains to a sadistic audience hungry to watch him blow up. He talks about how much he loves his weight, shockingly especially its side-effects, reveling in being out of breath simply from rolling over in bed. The post where he declared himself immobile is proudly pinned to the top of his page, racking up comments of support and congratulations from the people feeding into his addiction, both figuratively and literally with constant food deliveries I had long-assumed he had ordered for himself. It's all so fucking disgusting, and it's something I will never tell my wife, something I will take to my grave long after his.

As far as I'm concerned, he's already gone. He was lost 100s of pounds ago. There's no son in that void of a room, just a mound of flesh, endlessly growing until the day it doesn't. Goodbye, son. I hope you really love all your flab like you say you do, because it's all you got, and there's a ton of it.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

E Rated Fics Masterlist (35)

Part 1- Part 25 / Part 26 / Part 27 / Part 28 / Part 29 / Part 30 / Part 31 / Part 32 / Part 33 / Part 34 / 

Created: March 17th, 2024

Last Checked:-----

Of Course - An Elevator Tale Demona424 (ao3)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen dislikes Peeta Mellark with a burning intensity. But it's not her fault! Ever since she started working at Panem Advertising Agency he's treated her like some sort of leper. And of course on one of her worst days ever she gets trapped with him in an elevator. She can't help but think somebody up there hates her. Our Time-ashyblondwaves (ao3)  Summary: My original story for Prompts in Panem's modern day Everlark challenge: Baby Boomers Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen meet each other on an online dating website. Pas de Deux-dispatchesfromdistrict7 (ao3)  Summary: AU. Katniss and Peeta, two principal dancers at the Panem Ballet Company, must honestly communicate in order to address a newly arisen trust issue affecting their performance.  Pity Party-Demona424 (ao3)  Summary: Katniss never expected to be in a bar on Christmas Eve drowning her sorrows surrounded by people dressed in Santa outfits but she also never expected her ex-husband to cheat on her with her best friend. She also won't ever expect what the night will bring when Peeta Mellark sits next to her with his own sorrows to drown. Pity parties are the best with some company. Play My Way-HGfanonezillion (ao3)  Summary: Katniss discovered a way to take back a lot of the control she feels she loses with her chronic pain by controlling men for pay. But she is ready to have a more meaningful relationship by tying up the same man every day. Play That Song-Broken_everlark (ao3)  Summary: I really wanted to make a one shot collection based off songs. So for my first post on Ao3 here is my one shot collection. (Mostly based off songs but if I have inspiration for a oneshot it'll be posted here.) I will credit the song artists in every chapter, don't worry. Pound of Flesh-bathsheba78 (ao3)  Summary: My body sings for him, longs for him, like a lover for her beloved, like a flagellant for the lash. Prayers Answered-Alliswell (ao3)  Summary: "Lord almighty in heaven, please show me the plan you have for my life... may I be a bright light in the darkness, a blessing upon another soul. Show me what plan there is for me," Was the nightly prayer of a boy who survived the Mayflower voyage to the new world, he waited patiently for and answer, until the first harvest Plymouth Colony celebrated in the new land, when God showed him a girl, as broken and alone as he was, in need of a defender and a helping hand. Loosely based on Historical accounts citing the voyage of the Mayflower and the pilgrims of Plymouth Colony. Private Dancer-angylinni (ao3)  Summary: Peeta Mellark lives a lonely life. Every night he comes to the Capitol to find solace in the only way he knows how. Katniss Everdeen is a girl trying to get her life back on track. She can't afford any complications but he can't walk away from the one person that makes him feel alive. What happens next will change them both.... Reviving Romance-DandelionSunset (ao3)  Summary: Valentine's Day is around the corner and no one hates it more than Katniss Everdeen. She keeps receiving messages from a supposed secret admirer, who she's positive is a nonexistent, horrible practical joke. Worse yet, she finds herself falling for her archery student and fellow classmate, Peeta Mellark, who is shy, sweet, sensitive, sexy... and assumably gay.

[burntoutangel]

So lovely to have your life ahead of you isn’t it. Yeah the first few years were awful, the horrors of childhood and adolescence, the misery of the last few years. But things are looking up! You’re putting the years of shame and fear and shut in angst behind you, it’s a whole new lease on life!

How cruel that life doesn’t give a shit

Before you even start walking to the club you’d seen online, your first ever, she puts a rag to your mouth and it all goes black

Such a shame that she’s been watching you for years now. Watching your endless nights sobbing or rotting alone, and she didn’t want to grab you yet but… you were starting to leave, find new social connections… can’t have that

So you wake up with a pounding headache even if you didn’t drink anything, sore and in a strangers bed. So technically you won that bit of life. Now take a deep breath as you feel the saw teeth dig into the flesh of your legs, then arms. You unfortunately stay awake long enough feel it begin shredding the skin on your neck like paper

You had so much life ahead of you little thing. Life and happiness and experience. Cut short. But you’ll be so pretty and perfect as her trophy.