#and I will laugh at you as you beg God to take you because you 'followed hia teachings'. only for you to be denied the light of heaven

[angelickks]

I  OWE  YOU  A  BLACK  EYE  AND  TWO  KISSES   joel miller

synopsis  your  deadbeat  ex-husband  shows  up  again  and  god  help  you—you  fuck  him

warning(s)  nsfw,  mdni  18+.  au! no outbreak. joel's  a  deadbeat  ex  in  this.  literally  porn  w/  little  to  no  plot.  lowk  toxic  joel.  unprotected  p  in  v  (wrap  ya  shit).  creampie. pussy  pronouns.  rough sex. backshots  (yum).  finger  fucking.  arguing.  hair  pulling.  swearing.  mention  of  a  vibrator.  joel  licking  his  fingers  like  a  whore. sum possessive!joel. spanking.  no  use  of  y/n. (gif not mine)

angel  talks  had  to  go  back  to  my  roots  here.  i  wanna  fucking  gnaw  on  him.  literally  just  had  to  get  this  out  of  my  system  bcuz  ovulation  is  a  fucking  bitch. so heres a cute drabble for yall.

#NAV.ᐟ pedro pascal mlist!

CLEAN LINES. HIGH-END CLIENTS.

Success that tastes like everything he never gave you. You’d been at this for a while now—curating luxury interiors, designing award-winning spaces, becoming the name everyone wanted in their portfolio. You wore structure like armor. Controlled every room you walked into.

Joel Miller was long lost in your rearview mirror. Or so you thought.

You didn’t know it would be his company on the new build until you were already waist-deep in contracts. Miller Construction. You’d laughed when the name came up—assumed it was a coincidence.

But when you stepped into the meeting room and saw him leaned back in a flannel shirt, jeans, and that same cocky slouch that used to make you wild, every breath in your body turned sour.

He looked like the past. Bruised, aging, too familiar. But somehow worse—because you could tell life hadn’t been kind. And he was still so fucking sure of himself.

“Been a while,” was all he’d said.

And now here he was. In your house. At your kitchen island. Going over structural layouts with his big, calloused hands spread across your marble countertop like he still had the right. As if he isn't the same fucker that built the goddamn thing.

The plan review had turned into a fight twenty minutes ago.

“You’re not listening,” you snap, shoving the blueprint across the marble kitchen island. “That beam can’t be exposed. It interrupts the ceiling flow.”

Joel just leans back in the bar stool, legs spread, one arm slung lazily over the back of the chair like he owns the damn room. Like he owns you.

“Ceiling flow?” he drawls. “That’s not a real thing.”

You glare. “Yes, it is, Joel. Just because you never finished your degree doesn’t mean you get to shit on mine.”

His smirk falters—just slightly.

“I ain’t shittin’ on your degree. I’m shittin’ on your attitude.”

You laugh. Cold. “You wanna talk attitude, Miller? You’ve been gone for years. Then you decide to ghost me after I served you the divorce papers, and came back wearin’ flannel like it’s armor.”

Joel’s jaw ticks. “You think I wanted to leave?”

“You did leave.” You slam your wine glass down. “You left me, Joel. And now you’re showing up in my home, telling me how to build it better?”

His voice drops, low and lethal. “You think this is your home?”

He stands slowly, broad shoulders rolling like a storm coming in, eyes never leaving yours. He moves around the kitchen island, boots thudding against hardwood you both picked out once upon a time.

“I put up the walls. I laid the floor. I installed the damn fixtures. You designed it, sure—but I built it.”

A beat.

“C’mon, baby,” he says softly, and it’s that tone—that aggravating, mocking fucking tone—that used to bleed under your skin and straight between your legs.

Your blood boils. “Don’t call me that.”

Joel’s eyes flicker up, slow and sharp, and fuck, there it is—that look that used to precede every argument, every orgasm, every time he made you beg.

“Call you what?”

“That.” Your voice cracks. “Like you still know me.”

He hums, low and condescending.

“I know you’re still dramatic.”

You take a sharp step back.

“Fuck you,” you spit, fury curling around the edges of your voice like barbed wire.

His mouth curls. “I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

“Oh, you sick fuck,” you snap. “You don’t know shit about me anymore.”

He closes the distance fast. So fast your back hits the edge of the island with a dull thud, the stone cold against your spine. His palm lands beside your hip, fingers splayed wide and possessive. His voice lowers into that dangerous rasp—the one that used to get you naked without a word.

He leans in until his lips brush your cheek, breath hot against your ear.

“I remember every goddamn inch of you.”

You freeze.

“Still fuck yourself with that vibrator I got ya?” he murmurs. “From when you used to travel and leave me cummin' in my hand to those cute fuckin' pictures of you?”

Your breath stutters.

“I remember the way you used to cry when you came,” he says, voice like gravel dragging over silk. “Like it hurt to feel that good. Like you wanted to drown in it.”

You should shove him. Slap him. Scream.

But your knees betray you. Your thighs press together. He sees it—smells it on you. The want. The hate. The history. That’s all it takes.

His mouth crashes into yours. Brutal. Tongue sliding past your lips like he’s taking back something that was always his. His hands grab your thighs and lift you, sit you on the cold stone counter like you weigh nothing. You gasp into his mouth as he yanks your shirt up, your bra down, and sinks his teeth into your nipple with a moan that vibrates through your chest.

“Still so fuckin’ soft,” he growls. “Still fuckin’ mine.”

His hand slips beneath your skirt, fingers dragging through your soaked panties.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, voice broken. “You’re drippin’. You’re gonna fuckin’ deny me and soak your panties over my voice?”

You try to respond—some insult, some curse—but his fingers pull your underwear aside and slide through your folds with practiced, filthy ease. His touch is rough. Fast. Unapologetic. One thick finger pushes into you, and your mouth falls open on a moan.

“Still so goddamn tight,” he snarls, watching your face twist. “Like your pussy missed me more than your mouth wants to admit.”

“Fuck y—”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it or I stop.”

You glare at him, teeth clenched, panting as your walls flutter around his finger. Then he curls it just right and you cry out, gripping his flannel.

“You ruined me.”

His breath hitches.

He adds a second finger without warning and fucks you with a growl. Presses his forehead to your sternum like he’s trying to crawl inside you.

“Good,” he says. “’Cause you fuckin’ ruined me too.”

You claw at his shirt, drag him into another kiss that’s more spit than anything else. His beard scratches. His tongue fights. He fucks you with his fingers until your thighs shake and your cunt gushes over his hand, slick dripping onto the counter.

You scream his name when you come. You sob it.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt and stares down at the mess coating them, breath still ragged. Then, eyes locked on yours, he sucks them clean one by one—tongue slow, wet, obscene. He licks them like he’s starving. Like he’s been waiting for years just to taste you again.

“Still tastes like fuckin’ heaven,” he rasps, lips shiny with your slick.

“Don’t get used to it,” you snap, chest heaving. “You’re still going to fucking hell.”

He grins, teeth flashing like sin itself.

“Then I’ll see you there, baby.”

He steps back, undoing his belt with one hand, popping the button on his jeans like he’s done it a thousand times just to think about you. His pants hit the floor and fuck—he’s already flushed, heavy, cock veined and leaking at the tip.

He wraps his fist around it, strokes once, slow and dirty, and groans low in his throat.

“Bend over.” He growls, voice dropping into something dangerous.

You raise an eyebrow. Don’t move.

“You gonna make me?” you taunt, a wicked smile tugging at your lips.

His eyes darken—jaw clenched, chest rising.

“Fuckin’ try me.”

Your smirk deepens. You turn around without another word and lean over the island, arching your back, ass up, face down against the marble. The countertop is cold under your bare tits. You spread your legs wider. Just to be a bitch.

Skirt shoved up, your soaked pussy is on full display. You don’t look at him. You feel the shift in the air when he sees you—feel the breath he lets out, ragged and ruined.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he mutters like a prayer.

You hear him spit into his palm, stroke his cock once, twice—then the blunt head is sliding through your folds, smearing slick and spit all over your pussy. He slaps it against your clit once—hard enough to make you jolt.

“You gonna take it all again, baby?” he mutters, dragging the head against your entrance.

You glance over your shoulder, lips parted.

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me.”

That’s all it takes.

He lets out a noise—low, feral, like a fucking dog—and drives into you in one brutal, soul-snatching thrust. He doesn’t give you time to adjust—just pulls back and starts pounding into you, cock slamming deep, balls slapping your clit with every thrust. The sound of it is filthy. Slick. Skin on skin. Wet. Desperate.

You scream. Hands flying out, palms slapping the marble as your cunt stretches around him. The pain burns so fucking good, the pressure so familiar you could cry.

“Fuck—fuck, Joel—”

His hands grip your hips tight, bruising, possessive.

“Oh, you missed this,” he snarls, still pounding into you. “This what you needed? To get split open like you fuckin’ deserve?”

You can’t speak. Just whimper, mouth hanging open, eyes rolling.

“Bet you let some pretty little suit fuck you all soft, huh?” he pants. “Bet he couldn’t even get you wet.”

“W-Wouldn’t you like to know,” you choke out.

Joel groans, fucks you harder, the slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls dissipating into the ceilings he hates.

“Say it then,” he grits. “Say no one fucks you like I do.”

You’re already shaking, legs trembling.

“Say it or I’ll pull out and leave you beggin’.”

You gasp, cunt clenching around him.

“No one—fuck—no one fucks me like you do, Joel—”

“That’s right.” He slams into you deeper, grunting with each thrust. “Still stretch you open like I own this pussy. Still make you soak the fuckin’ floor.”

He spanks your ass, hard, then grabs your hair, yanking your head back.

“'Cause I’m still the best fuck you ever had,” he growls. “Still the only one who knows how to make you cum till your legs shake. Still the only one who knows this pussy cries for me.”

You whimper as his hand snakes around, fingers finding your clit again. He rubs hard and fast, just the way he knows makes you lose control.

“I missed you,” he breathes. “Missed this. Missed ruinin’ you.”

Your whole body coils. Tightens. Fucks back against him.

“I’m gonna—”

“Come all over my fuckin’ cock. Let it squeeze me dry. You know I’ll fill you up good. Always do.”

You break.

It’s loud. Wet. Devastating. Your body convulses, cunt spasming around him in fluttering waves. Joel groans, grabs your hips and slams in deep—one final thrust before his cock pulses and he spills inside you with a choked gasp.

He doesn’t move. Just breathes. Heavy. Shaking. His body covers yours, chest pressed to your back.

“I ain’t touched anyone else,” he whispers. “Haven’t even wanted to.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I think about you every night,” he says, voice rough and wrecked. “Fuckin’ myself stupid just to get the memory to fade. But it don’t. You don’t.”

You don’t say anything.

He pulls out slow, cum dripping down your thighs. His hand runs down your spine, a long, tender stroke that makes your heart ache.

“Just needed to feel it again,” he murmurs. “To feel you. To see if y'still mine even when the ring came off.”

And all you can do is breathe.

Because no matter how much success you built, no matter how clean the lines or polished the floors—he still lives under your skin like a bruise that never healed.

[iron-fifty-nine]

READ THAT LAST PART AGAIN. Even if they DID vote for him, they deserve to have access to healthcare and to live out their full lives. Healthcare for all means even for people you don’t like. The problem is not “god my stupid neighbor voted for this guy so I don’t care if he dies” he is not your enemy. We have bigger priorities you schmucks!!!!!

This bill will make people realize that they fucked up. Maybe not as many as you wish, but that’s not the fucking point. The fucking point is that everyone around the country is suffering because of this bill.

If you are laughing at a hospital begging the government to not do something you need to take a step back and look at yourself and make better decisions. Doctors suck sometimes but at the end of the day they’ve devoted years of their lives to keeping people happy and healthy and they know the bureaucracy there is in medical care. Like ffs

I’m a commie* as much as the next guy on here but unfortunately the system we are working under right now cannot be fixed in the blink of an eye, much less by abandoning those who are in some of the worst of it, like people in the South.

Im exhausted and haven’t eaten so sorry if this is complete word slurry but god damn people are obtuse sometimes. Good post op.

“Healthcare in America is horrible. Healthcare in rural America is a nightmare. I have an idea. Make it worse. This will definitely boost the economy.”

[nazberry-icecream]

unfinished deity!phainon x reader wip

contains: ~600 words, deity!phainon or god!phainon, gender-neutral reader, immortality, reincarnation, character death, kidnapping

notes: this ends very abruptly just bc i wasnt happy with the direction it was going in and i lost interest in writing it </3

Of the Three Deities of Creation, Phainon is the most in touch with his humanity. But this was thousands of years ago, when he cradled the first humans in his palms and was overwhelmed with adoration. 

Phainon’s humanity is still what sets him apart from the other Gods, despite how it wanes after years.

And then he meets you. And the faded light within him flicked to life once more.

Your wedding was grand. Your life together idyllic. It is not until decades later you realize that you have not aged a day.

You run to your husband in a flurry of emotions, and he seems bewildered by your worries. Wasn’t it obvious? When you feasted on the fruits of the divine orchards and drank the golden nectar of the Gods, you became one yourself. You promised eternity to him. With him. 

You devoted yourself to him because of his humanity. His down-to-earth nature that was so unlike the other Gods that demanded reverence and worship. You see now that he is just as out of touch, as otherworldly as the rest of them. You strike him before running off. Hurt as he is, he decides to give you space. That is until he hears word that you had seeked out the Hand of Shadow herself, begging her to end your eternal existence.

But it is not so easy to kill a God, even one that went running into the arms of death themself. 

You are reborn. And Phainon barely gets to mourn you before he realizes he has another chance. 

You find your way back to him once more. With no memory of your past life, you still cannot help but be charmed by Phainon. It’s easier this time, he knows you well. This time he tells you upfront what it means to be his bride. His assumptions last time led you to feel betrayed. This time, he will do better.

It should not surprise him when you refuse, but it does.

You treasure your humanity. The beauty of your life is that it gets to end. You will become his bride, but you will not become a God. So, desperate to keep you at his side, he accepts. And he witnesses parts of you he did not get to see last time. He is endeared by how your soft skin deepens with laugh lines, how your hair curls and turns grey, how your steps become softer and stilted.

And then you leave him once more. A gentle, aged smile on your face as you take your last breath. 

You are reborn. This time, he steals you away.

You are raised in his temples, you devote yourself to him entirely. You are closer to your humanity than ever before, but even you cannot resist the God that seems to endlessly adore you, your guiding light in life. His honesty and insistence must get through to you this time. After hemming and hawing over his eventual proposal, you agree to becoming his eternal bride.

But just as your short-lived divinity binds your to this world, your inherent humanity longs for you to bid it farewell. Your mind and memory are not marred with flaws, yet you still cannot withstand the weight of a hundred lifetimes. Humans cannot remember every detail of their life while awaiting death, but you have cheated death over and over again. You remember everything, but you are not supposed to. You clutch your head, thrash in your bed and whimper as you succumb to madness.

Phainon cannot bear to watch. He takes you to Thanatos himself this time.

[kdh-tally]

Huntr/x and Saja Boys watching Horror Slasher movies (like Friday the 13th) and who's screaming and crying and who's laughing and who's staring deadpan?

Huntr/x & Saja Boys Horror Movie Headcannons

Prompt : My headcannons of how the kids would be when watching horror movies!

Author's Note : Can you tell I don't watch horror movies? Sorry i took forever to get to your request anon :( This is in no specific order!

Mystery

I believe he’d act differently depending on how he has his hair styled

If it's down, then he really can’t see what's going on and that really takes away from the whole fear factor.

He’d really just be hearing the jumpscares lol

Either way he’d sit there acting chill while his soul detaches from his body.

He’d say sumn like “that’s not realistic”

He’s trying to gaslight himself into a false sense of security 💀

He’ll also act as though he’s above it all but his foot is bouncing real hard so you can tell he’s nervous.

He’s the type to quietly berate every single dumb choice made in the movie in his mind.

Secretly hates how tense horror movies are, even if nothing happens.

Now, if his hair’s up?? The man is fighting for his life

Originally has a pillow in his lap just for comfort but will slowly squeeze the life out of it over time

He’d flinch once then immediately shift and act like it was a stretch

If Zoey grabs him during a jump scare he’d freeze and be like “...did you have to”

He will not scream but he will absolutely hold his breath until he feels like the tension has died down enough for him to breathe.

Won’t talk much after the movie is over.

It’s not cause he’s scared he just isn’t able to form thoughts….

“I’m gonna go shower” he says immediately after the movie is over. Once in the washroom, he just stands in the water staring at nothing.

The type to go on reddit and ask “how to not think about horror movie while trying to sleep”

The next day he’s super quiet and you just know he didn’t sleep

He’s a real demon but he would rather remain in the depths of hell with the scariest demon than watch a slasher movie with too much suspense.

Hates screams. Like why are their voices so high pitched?

They hurt his ears and make him even more tense.

Someone (probably baby or mira) will try to make a creepy joke and he says “don’t” with full eye contact.

He’d put headphones in halfway through and pretend he’s still watching.

If anyone asks him if he’s scared he’ll say “no” in that voice that means yes

He’d tell Zoey “this is fine” while clearly not fine.

My guy is gripping the couch for his life.

Abby

He’d bring snacks and forget to eat them cause he’s covering his face in fear.

He’s the one who's shouting at the screen.

“OH MY GOD WHY WOULD YOU GO IN THERE” 

At first it's out of fear because he knows a jumpscare is coming but it soons turns into anger.

Like why are the main characters walking into these terrifying situations???

His blood pressure triples.

He may also cry a little bit and then laugh like “I’m not crying I’m fine”

Clutches Romance like it’s life or death

He’s the one who's hiding under a blanket and peeking out every few seconds.

Jump scare = Scream

Romance has started covering his face with a pillow after every jumpscare so his scream doesn’t scare everyone else even more.

Hides behind whoever is next to him without shame

Begs Romance or Mira to walk him to the kitchen after.

If a character does die, like one he got attached too, he’ll cry.

“She killed her dad 😨😭 She didn’t know he was possesedddddd 😨😨😭😭😭”

The type to say “he didn’t deserve that :(” even if it was the villain murderer.

At some point he realizes that the situation could actually happen in real life…

“what if that happened to us” 

“We’re demons and hunter Abby”

“Doesn’t mean we’d survive 🙁”

Can’t sleep with the lights off after. 

Sure the demon world was scary but you know the fire meant there was always light.

He cannot sleep without the lights.

It’s not even up for discussion.

He’d watch “behind the scenes” clips and bloopers to make himself feel better

If someone, probably baby, sneaks up on him post-movie he screams like he’s being murdered.

Will not go to the bathroom alone

Will not look at mirrors

Will not turn around too fast

He is absolutely terrified and shaken to the core but will be the first to say, 

“Can we watch another?”

Romance

He’d so act like he’s fine until Abby flinches and then he flinches even harder

Tries to gaslight himself.

“pfft, it’s just special effects”

“that’s not even real blood”

Abby is clutching him but he’s also hiding behind Abby because he’s the one who needs comfort.

Jumps at every fake scare.

If someone touches his shoulder suddenly he’s doing a full body spasm.

Covers his mouth with his sleeve every time someone gets chased so he doesn’t scream.

Will NOT admit he’s scared. 

Even as he trembles in very obvious fear.

The type to say “nah this part isn’t even scary” while hiding behind Mira.

I feel like he’s one of the people who narrate loudly to cover up his fear

“OH he’s gonna die. look at him. look how he’s just… yup. he’s done.”

“There’s gonna be a jumPSCARE! Oh. yea um…”

At some point just puts Abby’s blanket over his head and gives up.

Asks Mira if she’s scared as a distraction.

He’s clinging to her while he does this.

When the movie finishes, he’d joke about it later like “remember when Abby screamed? haha yeah” (even though he screamed louder)

He’ll rewatch horror TikToks the next day.

He’s trying to consume as much disturbing content so the movie they watched won’t bother him as much.

Will pretend he’s chill about it.

He doesn’t like sound-based horror.

The same way Mystery hates the high pitched screaming, Romance hates the overlapping whispering.

Says it feels like a million ants with voices are crawling all over him and screaming at him.

Hesitates to go anywhere for the next 4 days

“I was fine”

“You screamed and hit me in the face”

Kind of jumpscares himself by thinking too hard about scary stuff later

Jinu

He isn’t scared.

I feel like everyone would expect him to be scared but he really isn’t.

He'd show up to movie night with snacks and a blank expression.

“What is the purpose of this genre?”

I feel like he may also flinch at loud noises but not at the horror itself

Like the loud noises that actually make the film more scary is what causes him to be jumpy, not cause he’s scared.

Calls the killer ugly.

Tilts his head during murder scenes like a curious child.

My guy was a soul stealing demon and he’s definitely seen people get killed in many different ways. 

Watching some guy get chopped with a hatched is nothing.

“Is this meant to be scary?” he’d ask and everyone’s like YES???

Unfazed when someone gets stabbed in the eye

He thinks gore is excessive but not impressive.

Just cause there's a bunch of blood doesn’t make the film scary.

Once leaned over to Baby and said “his intestines are the wrong color”

Baby who was locked into the movie almost fell off the couch because of the sudden whispering in his ear. “Jinu shut up-”

Keeps noticing historical inaccuracies in the set design

Takes mental notes during the film like “slasher = knife + dumb teenagers”

“I’ve seen worse in the mirror when I first woke up in hell”

The kind of guy that will try to comfort the scared members with a speech on how fear is a human construct

“You’re not even human???” Abby judges him so hard.

Another person that will narrate his reactions.

“Damn. There goes her head.”

He doesn’t even try to be brave. He's just genuinely indifferent

Later tells Mystery “it’s okay to feel fear” while Mystery is fully dissociating

No one understands why he’s like this

During the less tense scenes, he’d start talking about how the design reminded him of one of the spooky legends from one of his 400 years of life.

Ends the night with “Didn’t like it, didn’t hate it.”

Somehow gets obsessed with slasher movies and tries to find something that actually freaks him out.

Baby

He thought this wouldn’t affect him at alllllll.

He’d so be chill at first like “lol this is nothing”

“Guys we’re literally real demons. This is fake as hell” he’d laugh

However, the second the movie gets psychological he’d start shifting uncomfortably.

Starts the night on the floor, legs crossed, totally unbothered

By the third movie he’s lying back on the couch, arm over his eyes

“WHY do they all have mirrors???”

Makes jokes to try and keep things light

Tries to protect Abby but is clearly also getting creeped out (ends up making fun of him later)

Actually hates jump scares but will not admit it

Will randomly get super quiet during a really disturbing scene

“Yo why is this one actually messed up??”

Notices Mystery (hair up) getting freaked out and texts him “r u good??”

Acts like he’s fine but Zoey later catches him and Mystery watching some light heated anime in their shared room at 3am.

“You guys are literally watching Sailor Moon,” she’d mumble, getting comfortable on their couch beside Mystery.

“We’re gonna watch Saiki after. Are you gonna stay?” Baby would offer (which is odd of him but whatever)

Says “I’m fine” but flinches when his phone vibrates because what if someone hacked his phone and is sending him threatening messages on how he should kill his friends or else someone would come after him and do it themselves??

Also narrates to try and reduce his fear “Okay but this is too quiet. Something’s about to happen.”

Groans dramatically when characters make dumb choices

He yells at the screen.

“RUN FASTER YOU IDIOT!”

Keeps checking if the front door is locked

Leaves multiple times during the movie because he needs a break from all the gore.

The next day? 

Rumi is making toast, the girls stayed over, and sees Baby “Hey how’d you sleep?”

“Great why?”

“Just thought you��d be a bit scared,” she shrugged.

“I’m over it.” He shrugs, seemingly nonchalant. Then jumps when the toaster pops

Mira

She’s the second person who isn’t scared.

She’d sit with her legs up and arms crossed, completely unfazed.

“I’ve seen worse” 

She’d dead serious.

She would laugh when the killer shows up like “that’s the scary guy?”

Gets quickly bored by the plot. 

She’s the person predicting who dies in what order.

She feels like almost all horror movies have the same plot too imo.

Whispers the horror tropes before they happen.

“Ah, there it is. The ‘don’t go in there’ moment.”

She does this just because it's a habit but also so Romance and Abby know when a scare is coming and they can prepare themselves.

If someone is being too loud she’ll tell them to shut up

Sips her drink calmly during decapitation scenes

Keeps handing Rumi snacks without looking at the screen

Unfazed when someone screams next to her

She’s literally the one everyone instinctively gravitates toward when they’re scared

Romance is hiding behind her.

Abby is sitting at her feet.

Rumi is on one side of her and Jinu is beside Rumi while Baby sits next to him.

Zoey is on her other side with Mystery cuddling her.

Whenever she tries to get comfy everyone else groans because she’s literally in the middle of the huge cuddle pile.

She’s critiquing the movie. Not cause she’s scared but she genuinely thinks it's dumb.

“that’s not even a good kill”

“I could take him” she’d say and no one doubts it

Won’t react to the scares but will get annoyed if the pacing is bad

She’s the least bothered and most reassuring presence at the same time

“That’s why you don’t go camping. Ever.”

Jokes about how weak the human characters are

The only one to not be scared once the movie is over.

“meh. 6/10.”

Rumi

Not scared but oddly interested?

She’d so start off cool and smirking like “this isn’t scary”

“I’ve seen real horror” she has.

She’d go dead silent when something really gross or creepy happens.

She doesn’t scream or flinch but she does freeze.

Winces at the gory scenes cause they’re just so gross.

She’s really interested in the special effects though.

“These actually look real,” she mumbles as she watches some possessed demon float in the air.

If someone (Jinu) panics next to her, she calmly pats his head.

“you’re good babe”

Will sit through 99% of it without reacting, but the last 1% disturbs her deeply

Says “ew” when things get nasty

Doesn’t do psychological horror. 

She hates the babadook

Gore is fine but existential dread? not okay

“That’s not scary. That’s just sad.”

Says it at the wrong time

Will make sarcastic comments during the movie

Since she’s the last to leave the group's movie room, she checks it after the movie ends. 

Not cause she’s scared… just in case.

Might subconsciously avoid mirrors that night

Secretly texts Mira like “ok this one got me just a little”

Mira is the only one who knows that she’s a tiny bit bothered.

She’s too proud to admit she got spooked, but you can tell

Quickly gets over the tiny fears and gets obsessed with analyzing the themes of the movie with Zoey.

She can watch The Conjuring alone but won’t watch Coraline

When she and Jinu ae trying to fall asleep she offers to end the night with a romcom.

This is just to clear her mind…. yea…..

Zoey

The one who begged everyone to watch it.

She knows she’s gonna get scared but doesn’t care?

She’s one of the people who watches horror movies because she enjoys getting jumpscared.

Full of chaotic joy during every scare

Places bets on who’s gonna die first.

Jumps every single time but still grins

Kicks her legs like a little kid when things get intense

“Oh my gosh she’s actually a werewolf and they don’t know she’s gonna kill them-” she spoils it for herself.

Records the others’ reactions on her phone

Kinda person who finds the killer attractive, to the displeasure of Mystery but he’s too scared to even notice.

“Oh my goshhhhh look at that~~”

“Zoey, he's holding the main character's decapitated head” Mira scoffs in amusement.

“Yea but do you see that muscle?” 🤤

Puts her feet up and gets comfy

Makes up names for the characters cause she didn’t pay attention

“Don’t go in the tall grass, Carl! C’mon Carl!!”

Covers her face and peeks between her fingers

Makes Mystery flinch on purpose by grabbing him during a jump scare

After it ends she’s like “again? different one? let’s goooo”

Teases everyone who was scared (but was scared herself)

Fully believes horror is a trauma bonding experience

Wants to do a horror concept with Huntrix one day

[imnotjustreadingg]

bucky messed up

No one died and there was no major injury, but it had been a split-second decision he made on the field that cost Y/N the shot she’d lined up for hours. She'd been livid. Her glare sharp enough to cut through vibranium, said everything she didn’t because now she wasn’t speaking to him. At all. And that silence was worse than any bullet wound. Back at the compound, Bucky shuffled around the common floor, shoulders tense, watching her from a distance. She ignored him. Not a glance. Not a single word. Not even when he hovered by the kitchen, making her favourite tea. He already missed her laugh. Her teasing. Her touch. Especially her touch.

Bucky wasn’t used anymore to the cold. Not from her. God, it was just a couple of hours, and he already missed her. And he craved her warmth more than anything now. He missed the way she fit perfectly against his belly on the jet after mission. Or the way she leaned on him, injured or not. He’d fucked up. So, he knocked.

Her room was quiet. He didn’t hear movement. Maybe she was ignoring him. Still, he whispered, “Y/N, please…” Nothing.

“Doll, I-I need you.” He was begging. “Please, doll. I know it’s only a couple of hours but I’m going crazy…” The door opened after a few seconds. Her expression was unreadable. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t trust you to take the shot. That was wrong. I know you’re capable. And I should’ve let you handle it.” She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “It wasn’t just about the shot, Buck. It was the way you looked at me. You decided for me.”

“I know,” he murmured, stepping closer. His voice trembled. “I was wrong, and I hate that I made you feel like that.” Her eyes softened. He looked miserable. Eyes red-rimmed, face puffy.  She reached out, fingers grazing the hem of his shirt. “You hurt me.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he breathed. “Please. Let me show you.” Her hand slid under his shirt, over the soft curve of his belly. He shivered. “You’ve been pouting since the mission ends,” she whispered, stepping back into the room, tugging him with her. “Poor baby.” Bucky followed without hesitation. The door clicked shut. She pressed her lips to his neck, slow and lingering, and he groaned deep and needy. “I missed you,” he whispered against her shoulder. “Missed everything.”

“Then get on the bed.” He obeyed instantly, large frame sinking into her mattress. She climbed on top, straddling his lap, fingers tracing the stretch marks at his sides. “I love every part of you,” she said, eyes locking with his. “Even when you’re a dumbass.” His hands gripped her hips as she kissed him, hard, teeth scraping his bottom lip. He moaned into her mouth, tugging her closer, needing to feel every inch of her pressed to him. When her hand slipped under his waistband, his breath hitched.

“Y/N—fuck—”

“Beg for me.”

“Please,” he whimpered, eyes blown wide. “I need you, doll. Need to feel you. Need to make it right.”

“You will,” she smirked, pulling off her shirt. “Starting now.” Y/N stood up and went at the edge of the bed, watching him with unreadable eyes. Bucky sat up, cheeks flushed, his thick thighs spread slightly apart, tension coiled in every part of him. He looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered—because she was.

"On your knees," she said softly, but it hit him like a command. He obeyed instantly, sliding off the bed and sinking onto the floor before her. His flesh hand rested on her thigh, trembling slightly, while the cool metal of the other hovered at her hip. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again, eyes locked on hers. “I’ll make it right. Let me show you how much I need you.” She nodded once, slowly. “Then do it, Barnes. Show me.” He leaned in, kissing the inside of her thigh—slow, reverent. He didn’t rush. He took his time, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the soft skin, pausing just before her center. She could feel his breath, hot and shaky, ghosting over her heat. “You’re everything to me,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “I wake up thinkin’ about you. I fall asleep wishin’ you’d touch me. I can’t breathe right when you’re mad at me.” His hands gripped her hips, grounding himself as he buried his face between her thighs, tongue parting her folds with aching desperation. He groaned as soon as he tasted her—deep, guttural, needy. He took her leg, sliding it on the bed. The new position made almost buckled Y/N’s knees. He licked slowly at first, savored her. His beard scraped lightly against her skin as he worked, mouth moving with practiced devotion. He moaned into her, loud and unashamed. His hands didn’t wander—they held her in place, reverent, like he was scared she’d pull away and he’d lose this.

Lose her.

“Fuck, Bucky…” she gasped, hand sinking into his hair. “That mouth should come with a warning.” He looked up at her, pupils blown, lips slick, chin wet. “Yours,” he panted. “Always yours.” Then he dove back in with more intensity, tongue circling her clit before sucking it between his lips. He flattened his tongue, dragged it up her slit, then flicked mercilessly until her leg began to shake. The other one, straight on Bucky’s shoulder. 

When did he put it there? She though.

Y/N bit her lip, head falling back. “God, don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” he promised, mouth still pressed to her. “I’m not stopping ‘til you come on my tongue. I need it. Need to taste you.” He was messy with it now, greedy and desperate. His hands tightened on her thighs, holding her still as he fucked her with his mouth—tongue deep, nose brushing her clit. Every whimper she let out made him groan, hips rutting against the floor unconsciously. And when she finally came loud, breathless, back arching. He didn’t stop. He moaned like she’d just given him oxygen, lapping at her through the aftershocks, murmuring her name like a prayer between kisses. When he finally looked up, flushed and dazed, his lips were pink and swollen. “I’ll spend every day making it up to you,” he whispered, chest heaving. “Just… tell me you’re mine again.” Now both of the legs on the floor, she bent down and grabbed his face in her hands. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue. “I never stopped being yours,” she whispered.

[undyingdecay]

hi babe! i hope you take time to take care of yourself on this hiatus. we’ll all miss you so much <3

for my final request, i’m thinking of cnc with bob. i know you’ve written that already, but how do you feel about reader being the one who takes advantage of him? teasing his asshole and shit while he squirms and tells you no bc he’s never been touched there, but the second you hit his prostate he’s literally sobbing in pleasure.

delete if you want :) best wishes!

he’s so fucking cute like this — writhing, face all scrunched up, lashes clumped together from how hard he’s blinking back those glassy-eyed tears. stupid, trembling pout on his lips, all flushed and pink, even though he swore up and down he didn’t like it there. kept shaking his head, kept trying to twist his hips away when you first pressed your fingers against that tight little rim, mumbling out these watery, desperate little, “n-no, no — don’t, i don’t… don’t like it there—” like he really thought you’d stop just because he asked.

like he didn’t already know what you’re like.

the best part’s how he clings to you anyway, whimpering into your neck, arms wrapped around your shoulders so tight his nails leave these faint crescent-shaped imprints along your back. he can’t help himself — his body’s so much fucking weaker than his mouth, hips twitching and bucking despite the way he keeps trying to tell you no, like some pathetic little virgin trying to hold onto his dignity while his body betrays him one shaky moan at a time.

when you finally nudge up against that spot swollen little button buried inside him — he falls apart. you feel it the second your fingertips press into it, that sharp little jolt that runs up his spine, the way his legs kick out and his back arches, a strangled sob punching out of his throat before he even realizes what’s happening.

“o-oh fuck—fuck, what the fuck—”

his voice breaks halfway through, high and gasping, and his cock’s leaking so bad it’s painting his stomach in sticky streaks of precum. and he’s trembling now, really shaking, like he can’t decide whether to pull away or grind back onto your hand. you’d laugh if it weren’t so fucking hot.

“told you you’d like it, baby,” you murmur against his ear, slow and cruel, relishing the way his face crumples even more at your voice. he’s so overwhelmed, so deep in it already, pupils blown wide, lips wet from the way he keeps licking them like he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

his cheeks are damp. you don’t even know when he started crying.

“s’too much,” he sniffles, voice thin and small. “feels… f-feels so—oh my god—”

you press your palm flat against his lower belly, pinning him down while you curl your fingers up into that perfect spot again, and he sobs outright this time — one of those pathetic, broken little sounds you know’ll haunt him in the morning, when he’s back to playing the shy, quiet good boy like you didn’t just reduce him to this sloppy, whimpering mess.

but for now, he’s yours. weak, needy, begging without words, his whole body hot and twitching and so fucking sensitive you swear you can feel his pulse in the tips of your fingers. and you’re not stopping. not when he’s finally this honest. not when he’s sobbing your name like it’s the only word he remembers how to say.

he doesn’t like it there.

sure, baby. whatever you say.

[shuastar]

Hello!!! For the ‘Until the sun sets on 2030’ prompt, could I request smut + prompt 12 with dino being inexperienced please?

pairing: virgin!chan x experienced!f!reader genre/warnings: smut (MDNI); subby/virgin/inexperienced!chan, a more experienced reader; orgasm denial, edging, god praise kink!!!!, corruption kink if you squint, the overusage of "good boy," chan asking for a fuck ton of permission, some begging... a/n: so i may have overdone this because as i was writing my smut medleys....virgin!chan was just...groundbreaking. it was like i ascended on a new level of computer corruption. anways um yeah

prompt list | ask box

someone being a virgin/inexperienced (a nicer version of a corruption kink)

he’s nervous.

you can feel it in the way his fingers tremble when they brush your waist. the way his breath hitches when you kiss down the side of his neck. he tries so hard to keep his composure—but it’s crumbling fast.

“chan,” you whisper against his skin, “you okay?”

he nods too fast. “yeah. i’m good. i just—i’ve never—”

you smile. soft. gentle.

“i know,” you say, brushing his hair back. “we don’t have to rush anything.”

his eyes meet yours, wide and earnest. “i want to,” he says quickly. “i want to. i just—idontknowwhatimdoing.”

“then let me show you.”

his breath stutters out. he nods again—slower this time—and lets you guide him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. he sits, watching you with parted lips as you climb into his lap, straddling his thighs.

“you’re so warm,” he whispers, like he can’t believe you’re real. his hands settle tentatively at your hips, and then a little tighter, like he doesn’t want to let go.

you roll your hips against his, just once—slowly—and his whole body jerks.

“fuck—” he gasps, eyes fluttering shut. “that—feels so good—”

you lean in, kissing him, swallowing the little sounds he makes as you rock against him again. his hands clutch at you like he’s drowning.

“can i?” you ask softly, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

he nods. “yeah. please.”

you strip him slowly, let him feel every inch of it—the way your hands trail down his chest, the way your mouth kisses across his collarbones, the way you press him down until he’s lying back on the bed, flushed and panting, watching you with awe.

you tug off your top next. his hands twitch at his sides like he doesn’t know where to touch.

“you can touch me, baby.”

he does—carefully at first, then more confidently when you guide him. he cups your breasts with both hands, thumb brushing over your nipple, and you shiver at the touch.

“you like that?” he asks, wide-eyed.

“mmhmm,” you smile. “you’re doing great.”

he looks dazed. amazed. like every moan you make is a revelation.

when you slide down between his legs, undoing his pants, he sits up halfway. “wait, you don’t have to—”

you kiss the inside of his thigh, grinning up at him. “i want to.”

and when you take him in your mouth—soft at first, then growing hard fast, twitching against your tongue—he loses it.

“oh—fuck—fuck—i’ve never—” his head falls back, one hand fisting the sheets. “that feels—you feel—oh my god—”

you only suck him a little longer, just enough to watch him squirm, then pull off with a pop and a wicked little smile.

“you okay?”

his eyes are glassy. “i think i’m in love with you.”

you laugh softly, climbing back over him. “you wanna try now?”

he freezes. “like—actually…?”

you nod. “if you want.”

he licks his lips. “yeah. i want. i just don’t know—how to start.”

you guide his hand between your legs. he groans when he feels how wet you are, how ready.

“start here,” you whisper.

he touches you like he’s worshipping you. fumbling at first—shy, unsure—but he listens. you tell him where to press, how to move, and his eyes never leave your face as you fall apart for him.

“you’re amazing,” he whispers, reverent. “i can’t believe this is real.”

you line him up and let him press in slowly, slowly, inch by inch. he’s thick, careful, his forehead pressed against yours as he pants through the stretch.

“oh my god,” he breathes. “you’re so tight. so warm. i—i’m not gonna last.”

you kiss him. “just feel me.”

he moves inside you with shaky, gentle thrusts. not deep yet—just careful. nervous.

you wrap your legs around him. “it’s okay, chan. go slow. you’re doing so well.”

he lets out the softest whimper at that—like praise is all it takes to ruin him.

“feels so good,” he gasps. “you feel so good. i don’t ever want to stop—”

he buries his face in your neck as he rocks into you faster now, still gentle but needy, and the little sounds he makes—those broken moans, the way he whispers “i’m yours, i’m yours” like a prayer—only make you wetter.

“i’m close,” he chokes out. “can i—inside? please—”

“yes, chan. give it to me.”

he cums with a soft cry, clutching you to his chest, hips stuttering. he stays inside you, panting, shaking, kissing your shoulder like he’s saying thank you.

He’s still panting beneath you, chest flushed and heaving, eyes dazed as you straddle him again.

“W-wait—” Chan’s voice cracks. His thighs twitch under your hands. “You’re gonna—again?”

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “Oh, sweetheart. You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?”

A whimper escapes him.

You slide down slow, savoring how his cock jerks and twitches against your folds, already overly sensitive from the last round. He shudders violently, one hand flying to your hip while the other clutches the sheets like it’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

“Fuck, fuck—oh my god—” he breathes, voice breaking into a moan as you finally sink down fully, taking him all the way.

His head tips back against the pillows. “You feel—so warm, I—please—please slow down.”

You start slow. Cruel, patient drags of your hips, moving just enough to make him squirm, his breath catching with every movement. You watch him try to keep it together—lips parted, face contorting as his body trembles beneath you.

“You wanna cum again, baby?” you whisper, leaning forward, your chest pressed to his as your hips roll just right.

Chan nods rapidly, eyes glassy. “Y-yeah. I—it’s too much, but I want to. Please.”

“Hmm.” You pull back slightly and clamp your walls around him on purpose. “But you’ve already made such a mess. Think you can handle more?”

His mouth drops open. “I don’t know,” he whines. “I—I think I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not,” you tease, running your fingers down his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs. “You’re just pussydrunk.”

He whimpers like it’s a confession. “I am. I really am. It’s so good. I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

Then you stop.

Just like that, your hips still. You don’t lift off him, but you don’t move either.

His eyes fly open in panic. “W-wait, why’d you stop?”

You smile down at him. “You said you wanted to cum.”

“I do!” he gasps. “Please—please, I need it. I need you to move, please, I can’t—”

He’s babbling now. Pleading. Writhing beneath you like a mess, trying to thrust up into you but you pin his hips down easily.

“Nuh-uh,” you murmur. “Be a good boy. Take it like this. I wanna see you beg.”

He whines high in his throat. “Please—I need to feel you. I need to finish, it hurts, I—fuck—please don’t stop touching me—”

You finally roll your hips again, slow and deep, and his whole body jerks.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he chants. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum—!”

“Nope.” You stop again.

He practically sobs. “Y/N. Please. I can’t take it. Please let me finish. I—I’ll do anything, just—please—!”

You lean in close, kiss the corner of his mouth, soft and sweet. “You’ll do anything?”

His eyes are wild. He nods. “Yes. Anything. Just ride me, please. I’ll be good. I’ll—fuck—just please let me cum.”

You start moving again, faster this time. 

Your fingers thread through Chan’s hair again, yanking just hard enough that he moans into your skin, mouth open and pressed to your shoulder. His whole body trembles under you — flushed, sweat-slicked, desperate. His legs twitch with every slow grind of your hips, and he whimpers when you lift slightly and sink back down with an agonizing roll.

“P-please—” His voice is wrecked. “I—I can’t… I need—fuck, I need it—”

“You’ll wait,” you breathe against his ear, your voice silky, indulgent, cruel. “You said you’d be good for me, didn’t you?”

His head snaps up weakly, tears glossing his eyes. “I am—I’m trying, I swear—I’ll be good, please, I wanna be—” He pants, chest heaving, trying not to thrust up, his hands gripping your hips so hard they might bruise.

You ride him slow now, dragging your walls around him in a way that makes his eyes roll back. You feel the way he twitches helplessly inside you, how every second you don’t let him cum frays him further at the edges.

“You’re doing so well,” you praise, and his breath catches. “You’re so good for me, baby.”

He lets out a broken sob of relief, one hand sliding to your waist as he pulls you close — his forehead dropping to your shoulder, mouth pressing kisses against your damp skin.

“C-can I cum now?” His voice cracks like he’s pleading for salvation. “Please, please, let me cum—I’ve been good—I need you—please, let me cum with you—”

You press your forehead to his, finally grinding down harder, faster, chasing your own release now, and that’s when it breaks.

Chan cries out — a gasping, near-wail of a moan — and his arms wrap tight around your waist as he bucks up into you. His hips move instinctively, chasing your heat, chasing your high even through his own ruin. He fucks into you with a desperation you’ve never seen, overstimulated and shaking, his face crumpling against your shoulder.

“Wanna make you cum, wanna be good, am I—am I a good boy?” he chokes out, voice ragged, tears streaming now as his rhythm stutters.

“You’re perfect, Chan,” you moan, fingers fisting in his sweat-damp hair. “You’re so good—so good—”

Chan’s voice breaks. His hands fly to your hips, but it’s all desperation now, holding on like he’s drowning. “Th-thank you—thank you, oh my god—I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—”

You clench down around him and he wails. His body arches off the bed, overstimulation turning his second orgasm into a meltdown.

“Cumming—oh my god—I’m cumming, fuck—please don’t stop—”

Your orgasm crashes through you, and you tighten around him with a cry, making him cry out again, his hips jerking wildly as he spills inside you. You can feel how much there is — hot and deep, pulse after pulse — his body reacting completely on instinct.

He shudders, mouth open against your neck, breath warm and uneven, still moving through the overstimulation like he’s drunk on it. “I love you,” he whimpers suddenly, raw and honest, voice thick with everything he’s feeling. “I love you—”

You kiss his temple, his cheek, his swollen lips. “I love you too, baby. You did so good for me. So good.”

Chan’s still twitching inside you, cock throbbing as he dry-cums again, groaning, helpless and completely lost in it. Tears are pricking the corners of his eyes, and when he collapses back into the mattress, it’s with his chest heaving and lips parted, a dazed smile on his face, your boobs pressed against his chest, his arms around your waist.

The room is silent except for your breathing and the occasional quiet whimper from him, lips brushing your collarbone like a prayer.

You kiss him sweetly as he blinks up at you, ruined and blissed out.

“At least ‘m not a virgin anymore,” he whispers, breathless.

You laugh softly, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. “Congrats, baby.”

[xoxoavenger]

You Too

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: When Y/N goes to get breakfast, she ends up giving Dean the signal for a gun on her.

word count: 2049

warnings: cannon violence

masterlist

oh boy. it's been four months since i've posted something, so here's one of my 79 WIPs that I finally finished. i'm so sorry for the hiatus, i've been having a rough go of it. but life's been on the up, so maybe you'll see more of me soon

"Good morning," Dean's lips brushed Y/N's forehead as he whispered, not wanting to wake the other person in the room.

"It's too early," She groaned quietly, stretching against him before curling up and putting him tighter to her.

"It's not, actually, because the sun is already up." It's always Dean's excuse for being awake, but Y/N knows that he rarely sleeps even when she's with him. Sam has told her about how the very few times she's not with the boys, Dean rarely sleeps, staying up researching or watching a movie on Sam's computer. So, Y/N always tries to be with him, even if he's only getting an hour or two more.

"Babe, we've talked about this." She leans up, looking at him and watching him squint as he opens his eyes against the sun. "No one wants to be interviewed at seven AM days after a family member died, so we can sleep in a little." He just smiles lopsidedly, then leans down to kiss her. She moves her head back, tilting away from him and his mouth.

"What're you doing?" He says it a little too loud, the laugh building in his voice keeping him from whispering completely.

"Not with your morning breath!" She's trying to be quiet, but now he's pulling her against him and nuzzling his nose into neck, making her choke out a laugh as she fights to break free. "Dean!"

"Oh my God, shut up!" Sam yells, dramatically sitting up. Y/N and Dean freeze, because they had made the deal years ago that they wouldn't wake Sam up in the mornings if they were up before he was. Y/N hated breaking that deal, but it was Dean's favorite past time.

"Sorry!" She squeaked out, sitting up and out of Dean's arms. "I was just about to go get us all breakfast from that little diner across the street." She lies, wanting to make Sam feel better. It's not the end of the world, she knows, but she also knows how annoying it can get when your brother is constantly waking you up with his girlfriend.

"No," Dean starts to protest, but Sam smiles.

"Sounds great." He cuts Dean off, laying back down. Y/N hops out of bed and walks around to find her jeans from yesterday. She grabs a shirt that used to be Dean's but has been in Y/N's bag for longer than either of them can remember, then heads to the bathroom to change.

"Let me come with you." Dean says, still in the bed in only pajama pants. She rolls her eyes, stuffing her pjs in her bag before grabbing her gun, making sure it's loaded, and tucking it into her pants.

"No." She tells him, going over to the bed to sit and tie her shoes.

"Please?" He begs, knowing that there's no way in hell she'd agree if he demanded he was coming, like he wanted to.

"No. You still need to shower and brush your teeth." She teases, kissing his forehead while Sam stifles a laugh from his bed.

"Rude." Dean rolls his eyes, standing up and knowing he's lost this bet.

"I love you." She sings, smile on her face as she walks toward the door and grabs the extra keycard.

"I love you too. Bring your phone." This he does demand, because she loves to forget it and then get stuck at a payphone while they freak out.

"Alright." She says, but when she walks out the door, Dean can tell there's no phone in her pocket. He shakes his head, trying not to let himself worry, then hops in the shower.

~

"She's been gone awhile, don't you think?" Dean says, heel tapping against the floor as he sits on the edge of the bed. Usually, Sam would roll his eyes and disagree, but when he looks at his watch, he realizes that his brother is right.

"Yeah, actually." He doesn't want to freak Dean out, but Y/N usually never takes this long to get food.

"I'll call her." Dean says, grabbing his phone. As soon as he presses her contact information and calls her, he remembers that her phone is sitting in her bag, buzzing against her clothes.

"Should we go look for her?" Sam asks, standing. Dean shakes his head, rubbing his face to figure out what the hell he should do. If she just had to wait in line, it's going to be embarrassing when he shows up and she's fine. But on the other hand, if anything's happened to her...

"Let's just wait a minute." He says, hoping that she's fine. As if his phone is listening to him, it starts ringing, the Caller ID Unknown.

"Is it her?" Sam asks as Dean accepts the call with a shrug, taking a deep breath.

"Who is this?" Dean's voice is low and harsh, causing Y/N to almost flinch on the other side. She wants to keep her mouth shut, but she knows the demons that got the jump on her won't appreciate that.

"Hi, Dean." She says, closing her eyes in preparation for the crash out her boyfriend is about to have. "It's me."

"Y/N?" His voice is soft, and she doesn't even want to look at the way the demons must be eating this up. Dean Winchester has a soft spot, and he's giving up all the secrets right now. "What's going on?"

"I was just calling to say I got a little lost on the way to diner." She looks over at the demon holding the cellphone out, on speaker of course. He's grinning like he just won the lottery. "I need you to come pick me up." It's what the demon told her to say, and honestly it's pretty smart. There's another demon holding a gun on her, ready to kill at any misstep.

If only this weren't Dean fucking Winchester she was dating.

"Okay, just give me the address." She thinks he may suspect something's wrong here, but he would never say it out loud, never out her and put her in danger.

"It's 3578 Rochester Lane." She tells him, reading off the paper another demon held out so she couldn't 'accidentally' mess anything up.

"Alright," He's writing it down, and she prays he knows something's wrong. "We'll be there in a bit, baby. I love you." He says, and she tries not to sigh in relief.

"Mmhm. You too." Then the demon is hanging up the phone, the three of them celebrating the fact that their trap worked perfectly.

Across town, Dean is staring at his phone, trying not to shake.

"What? Is she okay?" Sam asks, having not heard the conversation, but just Dean's end of it.

"No," Dean says, suddenly his whole demeanor has shifted. It scares Sam a bit, honestly. "No, she's not okay. She's got a gun on her." He explains to his brother. His look is deadly, and Sam can only blink.

"How do you know?" Sam knows that he and Dean have code words, but he's not sure how many of those words Y/N would know.

"She didn't say 'I love you' back." He knows it sounds crazy, but they had decided on this code a couple months ago. It was something easy to put into conversation, and now every time they were on the phone that's how they ended their calls.

"Okay," Sam doesn't sound completely convinced, but he knows they're gonna go pick her up anyway. Now, they'll just be on alert.

~

"Where the hell is he?" One of the demons asks, pacing. Another one sits on a chair across from Y/N, sharpening a knife.

"You didn't tip him off, did you?" Another one asks, and Y/N rolls her eyes.

"You have been around me the entire time. How would I have done anything?" She asks, arms still tied behind her back. They're starting to get sore, and she's really wondering where Sam and Dean are. She knows he got her message, because she wouldn't play around like that unless something was really wrong.

"If we find out you tried anything," The main demon puts a knife to her throat, and for their sake she pretends to be scared. She knows the boys will be here soon, she just hopes for the demon's sake they don't see the knife on her throat.

"Please, you told me what to say. You've been here the whole time." Her face is screwed up in mock fear, but the second she hears the door open she can't help the uptick in her lips.

"What have you done?" He asks, and she finally looks him in the eye, smile wide.

"It was all you, buddy. You fucked with the Winchesters, and you're about to find out." She groans when he pulls her hair and tips her head back, knife drawing blood at her neck.

"Too bad you won't be here to find out." The demon threatens, and Y/N feels her heart start to pound for the first time. But then, the demon's eyes are glowing, and he drops the knife as he slumps onto her. She grunts and looks at the body on her, and when she looks up Dean is running to her, pulling the knife out of the corpse back and throwing it to Sam so his brother can continue fighting.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks as he looks at the knife mark on her neck.

"Get this fucker off me." She grits out, body tense. Dean pulls the demon away from her and grabs his butterfly knife to start cutting her ties open.

"Did they do anything to you?" Dean asks while Sam finishes taking care of the rest of the demons. She shakes her head as she stands, letting him crush her in a hug. She smiles into it, because she knows her boyfriend had to of been terrified when she gave him the signal.

"Good to see you in one piece." Sam says when Y/N and Dean part, and Y/N gives him a small hug. "You should've seen Dean when you called. And by the way, who uses 'I love you' as their signal for having a gun on them?" The younger brother questions as they all walk to the Impala. Sam has some blood on him from taking out the demons with just a knife, and Y/N had blood dribbling down her neck still. The cut was superficial, but it was still bleeding.

"Okay, Mr. Funkytown." Y/N rolls her eyes, letting Dean open the passenger door for her and letting her slip in. Sam gets in the back, without even grumbling this time.

"Hey, don't knock the tried and true." Sam tells her, and she chuckles.

"And how would you have worked it into a conversation where they're telling you exactly what to say?" She shoots back, and Dean just shakes his head, knowing he can't weigh into a conversation where both methods were his idea. "Just admit it's a good idea." Y/N tells him, and Dean has no idea why she's pushing an idea that wasn't even her's so hard.

"So, what, you just say it every time you're on the phone, and if the other one doesn't say it back you freak out?" Sam says, and Y/N rolls her eyes.

"Yes. And if you accidentally get cut off or something happened, you call back immediately. It's not that hard." She says, then turns to Dean and slides closer to him on the bench seat. "Dean always says it anyways after a call." She says with a smile, loving the way his cheeks blush slightly.

"Yeah, well." He doesn't know what else to say without sounding like a total pussy-whipped idiot (which he is) so he continues to drive and turns up his music.

"This is Y/N's mixtape!" Sam yells after a moment, and Y/N just laughs and rolls down a window, pretending like there isn't drying demon blood on Sam and her own blood drying on her neck.

"I love you." Dean says, just under the music so his brother won't hear. She looks at him, messy hair from the demon gripping it, blood on her neck and wrists bruised, and she smiles. Dean wants to bottle her up.

"I love you too." She finally responds, and everything is right in the world. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @lyarr24 @king-of-milf-lovers

[clairetoocool]

BEST SUMMER EVER

part four - crush

prev masterlist

tags - major fluff, minor angst, might be very corny sry, 1.2k wc!!

since the moment ino saw you on his first day at the camp, he was hooked.

whenever he saw you walk by him, help out some campers in the same room as him, or do anything in his line of sight really, he thought you were the most perfect thing to ever grace this earth.

so when yuji texted him about you he freaked out!!

he decided he should be VERY nonchalant, incase yuji was interested in you instead, because how was he supposed to tell him he thought you were perfect?

how was he going to tell him he noticed when you would scrunch your nose when you laughed? or when you went to the lake to read and listen to music, and just enjoy being outside?

but when yuji even hinted at you being interested in ino, he was tweaking out!!

ino made sure to never mess anything up with you, retyping a text over and over until he thought it was okay to send, making sure never to touch you too much when you two would hang out.

he was SO excited to go to the party with you, finally being able to make a move and really show you how much you mean to him.

until a girl he knew in middle school ran up to him at the party, while he was waiting for you.

"oh my GOSH!! takuma is that you?!?!?!?!?" "haha yeah hi!.." he didnt really pay too much attention to her, he was mainly focused on you and when he would get to talk to you.

after a good fifteen minutes of her asking nonstop questions, rambling about whatever (ino wasnt listening so he doesnt really remember what she was talking about), you showed up, and he was SO relieved he could get away from this RANDOM and go talk to you!!

he watched you walk up to him, astonished at how good you looked, he took in your beauty, looking at literally everything, how your dress sparkled, how you still wore your converse while other girls were wearing heels (in the woods??? it just showed him how sensible you are), how your hair was so perfectly curled and how your mascara made your eyes look ten times prettier (not like they werent pretty without mascara).

he saw your face, riddled with discomfort as you saw the girl by him, he was worried you thought something was going on so he shot a "idkwhothisispleaseignoreher" look back at you.

when the girl by ino stopped babbling at him and saw you, she was furious!! "who is this girl talking to MYYYYYYYYYY ino??" she tugged on his arm "come get a buzzball with meee!" she said with a childlike giggle, trying to sound as cute as possible.

in fear of her bothering him more, ino gave you an exhausted look and told you he'd be right back.

buttt twenty minutes and two buzzballs later, him and the random girl were chatting it up behind a few trees, he was tired of her and just wanted to talk to you. he was begging god to have a tree fall on her very soon so he could run off to bother you, but instead ... she KISSED him?? he pushed her off of him immediately and asked her "what the fuck??" and out of the corner of his eye, he saw you running away. "fuck." he thought to himself.

and for a week straight after you saw her kiss him, you did your very best to ignore him. he would come up to you and beg you to talk to him, but you couldn't bear to hear him out, it hurt too much, because you really thought you two had something going.

but one day he texts you and you are so tired at this point so you decide to answer.

as youre walking up to him you really dont know what to think, you just hope he has a good explanation.

"speak takuma." you say with an aggravated tone.

"y/n i never wanted to kiss her, she was jealous we hang out so much and she didnt want you near me!! she would make weird comments under her breath and when she saw you coming over to us, she kissed me. i pushed her off of me immediately i promise you. please forgive me im so sorry."

you take a second to think, and then you give him a hug, "its okay." you say into his chest.

after pulling away from him you tell him itll take you two a while to get back to where you two were and he was just happy you still wanted to talk to him.

a few weeks go by after that conversation, and in those few weeks you and ino carefully work towards where you guys used to be, you guys got even farther than before!

giving eachother small kisses on the cheek, sometimes almost actually kissing eachother, but you were both too shy.

you two would go off camp grounds, and go downtown to visit bookstores, record stores and local cafes. basically going on dates but you never actually called it that, just 'casual hangouts'.

but one day he really just could not take it anymore. being casual was not his thing, he wanted to love you so loudly that anyone walking by you guys could tell you two loved eachother. sooo he planned another one of your 'casual hangouts' but this time, it was at the lake!

you were so excited, feeling so seen!! you dolled yourself up to the best of your abilities, but still trying to dress casual, incase it really was just a casual friend hangout. so you put your hair in a low pony, pulled some face framing pieces, and threw on a pair of jean shorts (a little extra short incase it wasnt a casual friend hangout hehe) and a cute cami top!!

as you walked to the lake you could hear 'crush' by ethel cain playing faintly, you got super giddy and practically skipped the rest of the way.

after saying hi to ino, you both sat down on the edge of the water, with music playing from his phone quietly. you two talked about practically everything for a good thirty minutes before he stopped and got a weird look on his face.

"kuma? are you okay?" you said with a worried expression on your face, he then reached up and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, giving you such a loving look. "im okay." he said as he gave you a soft kiss on your forehead. "i need to tell you something .." he said, looking down at the water. "yeah, whats up?" you said.

"um .. okay .. y/n, i really really do like you." he looks up at you, then continues. "from the moment i saw you here i was .. starstruck. you are the prettiest and most caring girl i have ever met, youre so genuine and you put so much effort into everything you do. i can tell your friends really like having you around, and i especially do. and i was wondering ...."

you kiss him. he kisses you back, putting a hand up to your cheek. after you pull back you look into his eyes, "i really like you too 'kuma." you give him a soft smile. "soo will you be my girlfriend?" he flashes you a dorky grin. "of course." you give him an even dorkier grin, partially teasing him.

you two spend the rest of the evening sitting next to eachother, your head on his shoulder, enjoying eachothers presence, and you cant think of anything better than this

creators thoughts!! - ok this is my fifth time trying to post this i PRAY it works!! sry if this was super corny i didnt know how to finish it gulppp... also i DO NOTTT stand by ethel cains actions i just like the song 🥀. im very sad about hayden actually but that doesnt hafe to do anything eith jjk so like anyway. IM WRITING ABOUT INUMAKI NEXT YAYYY!!!

taglist - @charley404 @inotaku-talkz @kaidostwin @nanamisss @e-dollly @waywardfanwinner @londonsworldddd @enhypen-ado @idexmids

[mischievousmoony]

Mayhaps , can I request a part 2 of steamy fantasies ? Kinda obsessed w perv!roommate James, actually. lol maybe r can torture can him some more b4 actually *helping* 😉😏

got unbelievably carried away. he's so pathetic in this mwahaha

𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗

⟢ pairing: perv!roommate!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ summary: you show james how little you mind his pervy habits, but not without torturing him a bit first ⊹ 5.1k ⟢ warnings: smut mdni, jerking off, hand job, spit play, kinda very sub!james, begging, praise, hair pulling, shame (james, he does lighten up), dubcon (?) for the pervy things he did in the past, someone pls tell me what else, feels like there's more but idk ⟢ read part 1 first ⟡ series masterlist

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James called out of work that morning, said he was sick. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to focus on anything, not with the mess of emotions churning in his gut.

Truth be told, he’s embarrassed that you caught him, and all the shame he’s been burying—for all his filthy little habits—has risen to the surface. A debilitating, confusing combination of shame and arousal keeps him glued to his bed all day, the same memory gnawing at him.

“All you had to say was please and I would’ve helped you out. Next time, kay?”

James replays your words on a loop, trying to dissect every possible meaning while ignoring how painfully hard he is thinking about it. His fingers twitch with the urge to scroll through that hidden photo album on his phone, the one full of pictures he’s taken when you weren’t looking, and take care of the ache. But the guilt of even having those photos is too heavy.

What would you think if you found out about that too? Or what if you knew that a single smile in his direction could send him rushing off to his room, hard and desperate, jerking off to the thought of you. Or if you knew about the increasingly frequent visits to your bedroom when you’re not home? Not just to get off to the lingering scent of your perfume, but sometimes, just to lie in your bed and imagine what it would feel like to fall asleep next to you.

Fuck, he’s pathetic. You’d surely think so too. He’s convinced he must’ve misheard you earlier. Or maybe you were just teasing him. Mocking him because you didn’t know how else to react. God, maybe you were just uncomfortable and trying to have a laugh at his expense to ease your own discomfort.

Even if you really didn’t think much of it, he’s sure that if you found out about everything else, you’d send him packing.

James finally leaves his room when the takeout he promised to order arrives—because, of course, he always keeps his promises when they’re made to you. Even if the thought of you right now makes him want to hide out in his room for the foreseeable future.

He is sitting on the sofa now, picking at a loose strand at the hem of his shirt as he waits anxiously for your arrival. He’ll have to face you eventually, he figures. Besides, he wants to do right by you. He has to. He’s not quite sure what he’ll tell you. Sorry for being a perv, seems a little audacious.

He’s still mulling over possible excuses for his behavior when he hears the jingle of your keys at the door. For some reason, he’s memorized every cute little keychain you have. Can picture them perfectly, dangling next to the key to the flat you share. His whole body stiffens when the lock clicks open.

The first thing you notice is the brown takeout bag on the kitchen table, the receipt stapled to the front displaying the contents in bold letters. All of your favorites. You smirk as you slip out of your shoes and hang your blazer on the coat rack.

You pop your head into the sitting room, seeking him out.

“Hi, there,” you say, an air of smugness in your tone, finding James sitting on the sofa, looking downright miserable. Shoulders slumped and eyes fixed on the floor. Oh, poor thing, you think.

He clears his throat, barely looking up at you. “Hi,” he replies, his voice sounding smaller than he intended.

“My meeting went well. I’ve gotta admit, it’s in small part thanks to you for that little… confidence boost this morning.”

James shrinks into the cushions, mortified. Any whisper of an idea to play it off like his jerking off in the shower had nothing to do with you vanishes. It was simply a bad morning for you to need to use the mirror, he could have told you. He could have tried to excuse it. Impersonalize it. But if you had any doubt about his reasons that he could have played into before, he’s certainly crushed it with the way he just reacted.

It’s obvious to you how much all of this is weighing on him, how his thoughts seem to be running a mile a minute.

“Something on your mind, James?” you ask in a low, teasing tone that makes James’s cheeks burn. That, and the sudden proximity as you step closer, almost standing between his legs.

James stammers, staring up at you with big, wide, chestnut eyes. The shame burning in his chest is urging him to tear his gaze away, hide. But you look so beautiful. With your hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, your kissable lips curved into a slight smirk. There’s something tantalizing about your work clothes. A white, collared shirt with short puff sleeves, tucked neatly into striped gray trousers that hug your curves just right. The top two buttons are undone, as if to tempt him.

“James?” you murmur, pulling him out of his trance.

“I- I really like you,” he blurts out in a shaky, almost whiny voice. This isn’t exactly how he imagined confessing his feelings—if he was ever going to in the first place. And it’s not exactly how he planned to start this conversation either, not that he was able to come up with much of a plan, but anything might’ve been better than turning into mush.

“You’re amazing and brilliant and so pretty and- and I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever. I know I shouldn’t have done that in the shower with you… there. But I just can’t control myself when it comes to you. And I’m sorry because I don’t want to make things weird or- or uncomfortable because I really don’t want to lose you.”

The words don’t feel like enough. James's hands flex restlessly in his lap as he fights the urge to reach out and touch you. Hug you. Shake you and beg for forgiveness.

“Oh, baby.”

His breath hitches at the pet name.

“I thought I was being clear,” you say as you drag a hand down the side of his face, following the sharp curve of his jaw to his chin. He shivers at your touch—barely there, he could be imagining it. “I like that you like me so much. Honestly, I’m flattered.”

James’s lips part like he has something to say, but no noise comes out. All he can manage to do is look at you like he’s already completely at your mercy.

“C’mere,” you purr, pulling his head to your chest. He goes easily, like he’s been waiting for this, because he has. His big arms finally encircle your waist, holding you tightly, like he’s afraid of what will happen if he lets go.

His body practically sags against you as you card your fingers through his curls. His cheek is pressed against your chest, and he can hear your heartbeat. It’s a lot more controlled than his and it helps him relax a little.

You slide a hand back through his hair, gripping it at the roots this time. He sucks in a sharp breath as you pull his head back. The room suddenly feels several degrees warmer.

“But if you’re feeling like you have something to apologize for, we can work something out,” you tell him in a low, sultry tone that has him choking on air.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, neck craning back farther as you give his hair another little tug. He doesn’t understand what you mean. Hell, he can hardly understand how this is even real. All he really knows is that the words that come out of your mouth sound so pretty.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Aw, yeah?” you murmur, your tone patronizing. Your eyes trail down his body to the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, straining against the gray fabric since you first touched his cheek. His eyes follow yours and he’s hit with another wave of embarrassment.

“Why don’t we lay everything out in the open?”

“What?” he asks, his voice cracking.

Your eyes flick back up to his. “No more secrets. I want to know what you do when you think about me.” Your gaze turns down to his bulge again. “I want you to show me.”

Of course he’ll show you. Anything you ask. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a nervous wreck. It’s not just about exposing himself, it’s about laying himself bare. Showing you the most depraved side of himself.

He can’t do that without making something clear first.

“I don’t just think about you when I’m horny. It’s not just that. I- I think about you all the time. As much as I think about how badly I want to touch you, I think about how badly I want to be with you more.”

Your hand drops from his hair to cup his cheek, stroking gently at his cheekbone. “I know,” you say softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, James.”

You had. It really is so cute how in his head he gets, completely unaware that every time you catch him looking at you lustfully, you revel in it. You find little excuses to expose more skin, flaunt yourself, just to watch his eyes go wide. But maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Because he also doesn’t notice how affected you are when he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. It’s easier to maintain the upper hand when he doesn’t know how much he does you in.

“You have?” he asks bashfully.

“I’ve seen more than you think.”

James’s gaze drops shyly to the floor, which you’re having none of, and you promptly turn his chin back up with a press of your thumb.

“You don’t have to be shy,” you whisper, a reassuring smile overtaking the cocky smirk on your lips. Your thumb swipes across his lower lip, teasing, before your hand starts to trail slowly down his toned chest over the soft black cotton of his t-shirt. “Can I help?”

James nods quickly, his heart skipping a beat as your hand travels lower and lower. You toy with the string of his sweatpants before tugging it loose. Then, you hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down just enough for his hard cock to spring out.

He mutters curses under his breath. He’s halfway convinced this is a dream—he’s definitely had one just like it before.

“Pretty boy,” you muse. Shit, you hadn’t expected him to be that big. Long, thick, and already flushed and leaking for you. You watch a bead of precum trace a path down his length, imagining how he’d stretch you out, and you have to fight the urge to press your thighs together.

Seeing the way you look at him, hungry and wanting, a shiver runs down his spine. His blush has crept all the way up his neck to the burning tips of his ears now, and his hand grips the arm of the couch like a lifeline.

James is disappointed when you put a bit of space between the two of you, backing up to sit on the edge of the coffee table behind you. He already feels the loss of you keenly, missing the closeness of your body. His cheek still burns where you had touched him.

You get comfortable, leaning back and supporting your weight with your hands on either side of you.

“Go on,” you say coolly, watching his cock twitch under your gaze. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

“Oh, fuck,” James mutters, breath shuddering out of him. His jaw clenches, but he starts to lift his right hand at your command.

Oh, you’re going to have fun with him.

He slowly traces a trail up his thigh, buying time. A groan slips past his lips as he tentatively wraps his hand around himself. Pushing through his embarrassment, he starts with slow strokes.

“Hm, wait,” you say, and he stills his hand immediately.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull his hand towards you. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then, you spit in his palm.

“Oh, fuck.”

You place his hand back over his cock, covering it with your own to guide a single, slow stroke over his length. Then, you pull away, leaving him to continue what you started.

“Better?” you ask, watching the way his face contorts in pleasure.

A hopeless, breathy noise is all he can manage in response as he continues, starting at the slow pace you set. Your spit lubricating his cock makes it feel unbelievable. It’s not just the slickness, it’s the fact that it’s yours. His grip tightens, and his eyes screw shut as the pleasure builds.

You click your tongue. “Look at me.”

An embarrassing whimper slips past his lips as he forces his eyes open. You look equally amused as you are turned on. He watches as your eyes trail down his body. The way your teeth catch your bottom lip when they fall on his hand pumping his cock.

Fuck, this feels unreal. It’s different with you watching. So different. Nothing like the countless fantasies he’s had about you. No, this is better. Real. Even the low burn of embarrassment has nothing on how turned on he is right now. And all you’ve done is get him to use his own fucking hand. But that look in your eyes, trained on him, it’s enough to wreck him.

“Have you ever done this here before? On our sofa?” you ask, settling back on your hands again.

James tries to swallow, but his mouth has gone dry. “Y- yes,” he chokes out, trying to maintain the pace of his hand.

“When?” you ask, tilting your head.

You don’t even look up from his dick when you talk to him. Like you’re transfixed. Fuck, James can’t take it.

“When you’re—fuck, not home. Or—mmh—in the shower.”

“Where else?”

Your voice is too calm. It’s unfair, really. You just sit there, looking pretty, level-headed. And he’s falling apart.

“I-” James hesitates. Your eyes flick up to his face and you can see the embarrassment written all over it. You’ve never seen him blush such a deep shade of pink.

You lean in slightly, encouraging him gently. “Go on, baby. We’re being honest, yeah?”

“Your- your room. I’m sorry, fuck.”

You smirk as if that’s what you were hoping to hear.

He has to fight the urge to look away, but he knows you wouldn’t like that, so he keeps his eyes on your pretty face. But admitting that is humiliating, terrifying. And it turns him on more than he’d like to admit. He’s getting worked up fast under your command, under your smug, expectant gaze—you’re watching him like he’s all yours to play with.

He would wholeheartedly agree that he is.

“On my bed?” you ask knowingly.

“Yes,” he cries out, thumbing the sensitive head of his cock as he throbs in his hand, heat pooling in his gut with every stroke.

“Why there?” you ask, squinting. It’s almost a dumb question, you think, because it’s obvious. But you want to hear him say it.

He squirms, choking on his words. “I like to feel- feel close t’you.”

It’s a tame answer. True, but doesn’t quite capture the depravity he really feels. And it’s like you can see he’s holding back, but you let it slide, this time.

“And what do you think about?”

“You. Always you,” he sputters, dumbing down fast, all coherent thoughts slipping away as his hand speeds up.

“What about me?” you prod.

“Everything. The way you look—so fucking pretty—the way you sound, the way you smell,” he groans. The scent of your shampoo fills his nostrils, and he’s not sure if it’s because you're right there or because he’s memorized it. “I think about your mouth,” he continues.

“Yeah, you fuck your fist thinking about my mouth? Want my lips on your cock?”

Your filthy words send a shockwave of heat straight through him. “Fuck, yes, yes,” he cries out, squeezing himself hard.

“What else?”

“Think—hmmf—‘bout how you’d taste. How you’d sound if I—ah—ever got the chance to touch you. I think about you looking at me like- like I’m yours.”

That makes you smile. So sweet. Somehow, it all feels that way. So very sweet.

“I think about you touching me,” he continues. “Want your-” He’s cut off by his own moans.

You take pity, filling in the blanks. Or maybe you’re being cruel, knowing how your words affect him.

“What? Do you think about fucking me, James? Sinking your cock deep inside me?”

A series of humiliatingly high-pitched whimpers falls from his lips. Your words are doing horrible things to him, and he wishes for you to never stop.

“Dunno, baby,” you continue your teasing. “You’re a big boy, dunno know if I could fit you.”

“You could, you could do it, mhm, know you could, you’d feel so good,” he pants, words meshing together lazily.

Your lips stretch into a wicked smirk. “Yeah? You think about how good my pussy would feel when you jerk off to the panties you stole from me?”

James lets out a broken sound, his strokes faltering as he stares at you, wide-eyed. “You-? Fuck! How did you-?” he gasps, shame crashing down on him, his thoughts too scattered to form a full sentence. This is mortifying, you look so fucking hot, his head’s spinning, how did you find out?

You smile like you’re satisfied with yourself. Like you’ve caught him. Fuck, you were guessing.

Well, you suspected it when you noticed the missing pairs. Maybe hoped, because of how hot you get at the thought of him touching himself with your panties in his free hand. Maybe pressed against his face. Shit, maybe tangled between his fingers as he works himself raw with the same hand. You should feel violated, really, you know that. But you’re far from it, pressing your thighs together subtly, you're pulsing with arousal instead.

“Stole half of a matching set, baby,” you reveal how you caught onto his little habit, sounding like you pity him for being so foolish. “Hard not to notice they were missing. ‘S okay, though.”

James whimpers softly, unable to do much else.

“Kinda hot. You want to fuck me that badly?”

“Yes,” he whines. “Please, I- I-”

“Bet you're thinking of bending me over this sofa right now. What if I told you I’m not wearing any panties?”

You are. But torturing him is just so much fun.

“Fuck! Please, I’m-”

His hand starts to get sloppy, his rhythm faltering as his hips lift helplessly off the couch, chasing his own hand. Every breath comes out in a whine.

“Please. Not gonna last.”

“Aw, you can handle it. Just slow down for me, yeah, that’s it. Good boy,” you coo as his hand stutters, then slows.

The praise makes his head spin. His hips thrust up into his hand desperately one more time before he manages to rein it in, his grip on himself slacking a bit. “Fuck… just, please,” he pants, his breath coming out in uneven puffs, unsure of exactly what he’s even asking for.

“Wanna know what I think about when I touch myself?”

“Fffuh—oh, god.”

James’s mind goes blank. The mere idea of you, naked, with your hand between your legs, is undoing. He’s afraid your words alone will make him come. Even if he stops touching himself altogether, your voice might be enough.

“I think about you, too. About how it’d feel to have your fingers instead of mine. I bet you would make me feel so good,” you say, watching the way his fingers tense around his cock. James really does have nice hands. Nice long fingers, you can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like buried inside of you. You feel yourself clench around nothing. Shit, if James only knew how wet you are, he might go insane.

James moans, unable to form words—or thoughts. This is too good to be true. He can’t help the way his grip tightens and his hand pumps faster despite you telling him to slow down just a second ago.

“Something tells me you’re even better with your tongue,” you continue, every word meant to push him close to the edge as your eyes fix on his lips. “Oh, how I’d love to sit on that handsome face.”

You turn your attention back to his cock, drinking in the sight as it twitches desperately in his hand.

“Shit, and I’d ride your cock so good too. I’d take it nice and slow, bet you’d like it.”

Your voice, combined with the image your words put in his head, nearly sends him over the edge. “Please, I’m so close. Please, can I come?”

“Oh, but I haven’t even touched you yet,” you emphasize.

That gets him to really slow down. “You- you-” he sputters. His chest rises and falls heavily with every breath, his whole body is thrumming with need but he forces himself to slow down.

“Want me to touch you, baby?” you ask, your tone a touch mocking.

“Yes, god, yes,” he responds eagerly, his hand stuttering to a stop at the base of his cock.

You tilt your head down, looking at him expectantly. Waiting for more. A low whine escapes his throat when he realizes you want him to beg.

“I—fuck—I need you,” he pants, fingers of his left hand digging into the armrest. His eyes are filled with desperation and his eyebrows are pinched together, almost in anguish, as he begs for you. “W- will you touch me? Please. Please?”

Your lips stretch into a satisfied grin. “Move your hand, pretty boy.”

As you say it, you push off the coffee table to kneel on the carpeted floor in front of him and his heart just about stops. He mumbles something incoherent as he spreads his legs a little more to make room for you, moving his hand to lie flat on the cushion beside him.

It’s obvious how desperate he is, but you’re determined to drag this out. Tease him. You start by lightly touching his knees, running your hands over the soft fabric of his sweats, stopping just under where they bunch up at his muscular thighs, then trailing back down. Goosebumps litter every inch of his exposed skin.

He holds his breath when you finally touch him, looking up at him through your pretty eyelashes as you drag a finger down his length, your touch barely there as you trace along a thick vein. He moans loudly when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

You push yourself up on your knees, leaning closer with parted lips. So close, he can feel the warmth of your breath. But you don’t touch.

“Want my mouth, baby?” you whisper, your lips millimeters away from his leaking tip.

He lets out a pathetic little whimper, using every ounce of self-control not to buck his hips into your face. “Please,” he whines, his voice strained with desperation.

“No, not yet, I don’t think,” you murmur. Your voice is smooth as silk. Unfazed, completely casual. As if you’re not driving him insane. He thinks he could actually cry, he needs you that badly. He’s so desperate for you to open your mouth a little wider and take him. For you to move your hand even an inch. Anything. He’s about to whine, beg some more, when a slow strand of spit drops from your mouth. You catch it with your thumb as it paints a trail down his length, and rub it into the head of his cock, applying a delicious amount of pressure that makes him writhe against the sofa.

His breath catches in his throat, but when he recovers, he’s crying out for you.

“Oh, fuck! Please, I need-”

“Shh, be patient, baby,” you say, shooting a stern look up at him. But you give in to his pleas. Slowly stroking his length, taking your time bringing him back to the edge.

His eyes dart between your hand and your face, unable to decide what’s more captivating. He raises his hand from the armrest, itching to touch you, but unsure of what he’s allowed. He reaches out anyway, hovering near the side of your head. You look up at him, a dazzling smile on your lips that completely melts him, and you lean into his hand. He doesn’t hesitate anymore, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

A faint gasp falls from your lips, which only encourages him to hold on tighter. You find yourself getting lost in the blissed out look on his face. His pupils are blown wide, and he watches you like you’re the greatest thing to ever exist. Is he crazy for thinking that you are?

“You’re so—fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

His words make your heart thud harder against your chest. The way he looks at you does something to you. Twists something tight in your belly, and you’re eager to give him more.

You pick up the pace of your hand. You’re tempted to take him into your mouth, but you want to take your time with him. You want to give him everything, but not yet. You’re determined to make him wait. To take things slow (albeit not that slow).

He fights the urge to throw his head back in pleasure as you play with the tightness of your grip, squeezing him teasingly, then loosening up, pulsing your hand around him to drive him mad.

“That feels so good. Mmff, fuck. You’re perfect,” he babbles, getting lost in a thick haze of his own pleasure.

His praise spurs you on, and you add a second hand, one hand pumping his length while the other plays with his tip, smearing another ribbon of your spit with slow, filthy swipes.

He starts to lift his hips off the sofa, meeting your hands. You tut, but he’s too far gone to hold back now, rutting shamelessly into your touch.

“Please, please, I’m so close,” he whines, clutching your hair so hard there’s a dull ache in your scalp that has you biting back a groan.

“Yeah? You wanna come?” you ask, your teasing hand curling fully around his shaft now, matching the steady pace of the other. You twist your hands in unison, the wet heat of your palms drawing a ragged, guttural moan from his throat.

“Please, please, please,” he chants breathlessly like it’s the only word he knows, fingernails scratching against the sofa cushion and your scalp. It stings, but you don’t mind at all.

“How bad do you want it, baby?” you ask, just to drag this out.

Tears sting the corner of his eyes. He can barely answer you, mumbling almost unintelligible nonsense—pleas for you to let him come. He looks at you with a wrecked expression, features crumpling in on themselves.

A deep sense of satisfaction settles over you. You have him exactly where you want him.

“Come for me, baby,” you finally say, murmuring your words in a soft, honeyed whisper.

James comes with a broken, strangled cry of your name, coating your hands in his sticky release the very second you give him permission.

“That’s it, there you go,” you coo.

His back arches from the cushion behind him, muscles trembling as a shudder rips through him. And his grip on the edge of the couch turns so tight he tears a hole in the already fraying fabric. Better that than your hair, which he loosens his hold on significantly, afraid he could really hurt you. Even lost in the heat of his climax, you’re his greatest concern.

“Did so good for me,” you hum, gently working him through his high with just one hand now, not wanting to overwhelm him. His chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to catch his breath.

He’s a whimpering mess as he comes down, pulling on your hair gently as a silent plea for you to come closer. You oblige, climbing up onto the sofa next to him. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and curl into your side, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, addicted to the scent of your perfume, and it helps ground him. His other hand is still in your hair, combing through it lazily.

You keep your hands still, hovering over his lap, trying not to make more of a mess than he already has. But it’s hard, with the sudden urge you have to hold him too. Instead, you turn your head to press your lips to his forehead, staying just like that until his breathing evens out.

“We should get cleaned up,” you murmur against his skin. “After, do you wanna cuddle in your bed or mine?”

James is pretty sure he’s dreaming.

It’s only when he’s in your bed, snug under your duvet with your body tucked into his side and reheated takeout containers in your laps, that he accepts this isn’t a figment of his imagination. He didn’t scare you away with his obsession. Somehow, it helped him win you over.

And he doesn’t plan on ever letting you go.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[tiffsturns]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of aphrodisiac chocolate, grinding, light praise kink, begging, teasing, soft dom reader, desperate matt, p in v, cowgirl position, unprotected sex (assume on pill)

𝐚/𝐧: im going on holiday with my family to greece so i won’t be posting anything for a week or so. this is also way longer than i expected, i apologise.

------------------------------------------------------------

i juggle five different brands of chocolate bars in one arm while struggling to open the front door with the other.

“c’mon” i grunt as the grocery stores plastic bags slice into my arm.

my hair is sticking to my head from the heat, my poor bunny slippers are soaked from stepping in a puddle, and all i wanted to have was a cosy movie night with matt. all this because someone decided that not having chocolate whilst we watch a movie is a crime.

with one aggressive twist, the lock finally opens and i kick the door open.

“oh my god matt, that was such a hassle. i couldn’t find a parking s-“

i froze mid sentence.

there he is. sprawled across the couch, curled up in a blanket, a bowl of chocolate wrappers in his lap… and the opening to our movie already playing.

my eye twitches.

“matt!” i whine.

matt looks up, eyes wide and sheepish, mouth full. “hey.”

“hey?” i march in, dropping the bags of chocolate on the coffee table.

“i just drove ten minutes to get chocolates in my slippers, and we already had some?” i groan.

“i was hungry and you were taking soo long!” he defends, as if that makes it any better.

i give him a deadpan look. “where did you even find them?”

he winces and scratches his neck. “uh… one of your birthday bags?”

i blink and my mouth falls open slightly “what?!”

“there was this random gift bag in my room and-and i was curious and i saw chocolate and i thought you wouldn’t notice,” he tries to defend then grimaces , “but it’s okay cause they taste like shit anyway, you wouldn’t have wanted to eat these.”

i stare at him in disbelief before snatching one of the wrappers from the pile beside him. my eyes scan the front.

‘aphrodisiac truffles- sensual dark cocoa blend’

oh no.

an unhinged laugh escapes me. i turn the packaging so he can read the giant, swirly, seductive font.

“aphro-“ he gasps dramatically.

i bend over from laughing so hard that i’m practically cackling. “they were a joke gift from gabby! they’re meant to make you like- horny or whatever”

his mouth hangs open wide. “i ate like five! what if it works? i'm gonna die. this is how it ends. death by sex chocolate” he panics.

“calm down,” i giggle, “they probably don't even work, it's just marketing.”

“probably. probably?!” he’s on his feet now, pacing like he’s been cursed. “what kind of sick joke is this? what’s wrong with gabby?”

“it was a joke! and they weren’t meant for you anyway, thief.” i say as i coax him back on the couch.

he glares at the empty wrappers like they somehow betrayed him. “i feel warm. is that normal? am i supposed to feel warm?”

“you’re wrapped in a fleece blanket in the middle of july.”

“oh.”

-

we’re about halfway through the movie, and it’s actually pretty good. i’m trying to keep my eyes on the screen but i can feel the burn of matt's gaze on my face.

“are you good?” i whisper, nudging his knee with mine.

“huh?” he blinks like i caught him out. “yeah, no- i mean yes! its funny. haha. that last part was hilarious”

“there hasn’t been a joke in like ten minutes.”

his eyes drop to my lips for a second before snapping back up guiltily. “oh.”

i raise an eyebrow. “are you watching the movie or watching me?”

he pauses. “a bit of both? this movie’s so boring!”

“you literally picked it out” i remind him.

“yeah, but now i regret it.” he huffs.

he’s literally fidgeting every five seconds, adjusting his hoodie, pulling at his sweats, shifting of the couch like it’s made of cacti.

“i’m really warm," he mutters, pulling the blanket off his lap like it personally offended him. then he stretches, cracking his knuckles and adjusting his posture like he's trying to get comfortable for the thousandth time.

his gaze not so subtly drops lower.

“matt.”

“i’m not a perv!” he blurts, “i just- my heart’s racing. and your bra strap is slipping off your shoulder and i don't know if im supposed to say anything about it or not, but i noticed and now i'm panicking.”

i don’t miss the way he tugs uncomfortably at the crotch of his sweats once again, and i definitely don’t miss the straining tent in them.

“are you hard matthew?” i tease.

he panics and covers his crotch with a small pillow, “it’s not my fault, it’s the chocolates fault!”

as the movie goes on, i feel matt's hands snake around my waist, pulling me closer. i don’t mind it- not at all- but then his fingers start creeping up.

and not very discretely.

“matt.” i warn without looking at him.

“hm?” he says, clearly playing dumb as his fingers cup my boob like its some accident.

i take his hand and place it back on my thigh. “do you need something?”

“maybe?” he mutters.

“from my tits?”

he groans and claws at the knees of his pants like he’s trapped in his own body. “no.. well yeah, just everywhere! i just want youu,” he whines.

i keep my eyes strictly glued on the screen, though his whining is sending arousal straight to my core. “you can have me after the film has finished baby.”

his pout lights up at the thought of finally getting some release. “promise?”

“promise.”

-

i’ve never seen someone so happy to see the end credits.

he looks like he just won the lottery, found water in a desert and got told he could skip the queue in disneyland forever.

he sits up abruptly, eyes wide and hopeful. he clutches my hand with a goofy smile on his face.

“you promised.” he says, all breathless and intense. “its finished. can you touch me or something?”

i blink. “woah, straight to it”

“no. i’ve waited, i’ve been so good and quiet” he whispers lowly.

his voice is so soft, so pleading, it makes my stomach flip.

“so desperate..” i tease, swinging one leg over him and straddling his lap. his hands instantly fly to my waist.

“just for you-“ he groans, his lips already chasing mine before finally connecting.

my fingers curl in his hair at the back of his neck. the kiss starts off slow but matt instantly makes it more desperate and deep like im his last meal.

i gently grind against his lap and i feel his whole body tense. he whimpers, full on-no shame.

then, suddenly he pulls back.

“i-no i won’t last long, don’t tease me please” he pants.

i pull back just enough to look him in the eye- his pupils are huge, cheeks flushed, lips pink and kiss-swollen. he looks wrecked, and i haven’t even touched him.

i start lifting his shirt, and he raises his arms obediently, letting me undress him. as soon as it’s off, i run my hands down his bare chest. i claim the space, nails dragging lightly just to watch him shiver.

“you’re so responsive,” i murmur, tracing down to the waistband of his sweats. “it’s cute.”

i tug his sweats down slowly to reveal the throbbing, twitching outline of his dick in his calvin kliens. he lifts his hips to help me undress him until he’s completely naked and vulnerable below me.

i tug off my own top and i watch his expression darken as he sees i have no bra on underneath. his hands twitch, like he wants to grab but isn’t sure if he’s allowed. his eyes move over me, slow and reverent, like i’m not even real.

“you can touch.” i whisper, guiding his hands to my chest.

he nods quickly, swallowing hard as he massages my tender breasts like dough. “t-thank you”.

i begin to peel my shorts off myself, tossing them somewhere behind the couch, then followed by my coral panties.

“o-oh, you’re so hot its unbelievable,” he groans, trailing his hands all around my body like he can’t decide where to put them. “please..”

his hips are wiggling and squirming in uncoordinated circles, trying to get some friction from my thigh.

“stay still.” i grumble and cage his hips between my knees.

i hover over his leaking, red tip, dragging it through my wet folds just to tease him before eventually sinking down slowly.

“you’re being so patient.. such a good boy,” i praise as i fully bottom out.

the heavenly noises of desperation he’s letting out are going right to my core. “i can’t-i mean- i’m-”

i place a finger over his lips. “shh. you don’t have to say anything.”

i roll my hips against him, slow, controlled, and matt arches beneath me, his head tilting back, a groan slipping out that sounds almost painful. his hands tighten just slightly on my thighs, his breath coming in short bursts.

i can tell he’s not gonna last long at all, which i suppose is good cause if he continues whimpering i won’t either.

i speed up the pace and his mouth hangs open, breath ragged, eyes locked on me like i’m the only thing keeping him grounded.

i feel a tight knot forming in my stomach as i feel matts dick twitch inside me as he continues to hit all the right spots.

“i can’t hold it, i cant hold it,” he admits, voice barely a whisper. “i need to come-“

“s-say please,” i smirk.

his eyes widen comically and he stammers out a quick, “p-please!”

i lazily drag my lips against his jaw. “let go, i’ve got you.”

that’s all he needed to hear to thrust his hips upwards and shoot his warm load deep inside me. all the built up tension from that silly chocolate finally leaving his body.

he’s breathless, trembling, wrecked beneath me and it’s heavenly. it’s not long before i feel the knot in my stomach snap and i clench around him.

i collapse against his chest as we both try to catch our breath.

i lift my head up to see a flushed, sweaty matt with a big grin on his face. “did i fuck the chocolate out of you?”

he nods, his voice horse, “i think so.”

------------------------------------------------------------

@gabssturniolo @l0s3rhaha @courta13 @bernardsbendystraws @ilovesturniolozz @sturns-mermaid @mf-divaaa-08 @sturniolo-szn2 @irlchrattlvrr

[justwinginglife]

"Though you said you were going to come for me? Those little droplets don't count."

I’ve had this one line in my drafts for like ever, and I feel like using it on the LADS boys is dangerous territory that I’d like to die in (because I’m a menace). Anyway, proceed at your own peril. 

**This is, of course, NSFW. **

I had planned to release more smut today for my one year anniversary on Tumblr, but considering these were all roughly 1k a piece and I wrote five of them, this is all you get for now.

Tags- Oh, god, idk, like a fuck ton of sex? Edging, sex toys, fingering, oral, p in v, p in a, squirting, you name it.

Caleb

Up until now, you’d been comfortably perched on top of Caleb, hips rolling forward to whatever rhythm you so desired, his cock only going as deep as had you allowed, his cum only spilling into you when you had permitted it to. And he had given you that control willingly. Honestly, he found it hot. Ridiculously hot. 

But then you’d had the audacity to tease him about how much he’d come inside you. 

“A droplet,” you’d called it. A goddamn droplet. Evidence of his orgasm was literally oozing out of you in waves -in waves, damnit! Meaning it had yet to STOP- and had been for the past hour that you’d relentlessly tormented him, and now you had the nerve to be unimpressed. Joking or not, he’d make you choke on your own words.

“A droplet, huh?” His words rumbled out of his throat, low and gravelly. “And I suppose next you’ll tell me my size is mediocre too?”

You feigned thinking for a minute, pulling yourself off of him to play at measuring him. He was still impressively erect, his cock standing tall like a skyscraper between your legs, but you brought your two fingers close together as though the small gap between them was meant to convey his microscopic length. “I meeeean, while we’re on the topic, I guess it was kinda difficult to feel you.” You bit back a laugh, thinking yourself humorous. You were clearly joking. Anyone with eyes could see how massive his size was even when it was soft. And when it was hard? It was like trying to fit a baseball bat inside of you. So of course you were just messing around. Baiting him for the thrill of it. Looking back, you wished you never would’ve said something so dangerous. 

“You can’t even feel it, huh?” He repeated, his eyes narrowing. “My apologies, Princess. I guess I’ll just have to do better, now won’t I?” His words were polite but his tone was harsh, his smile pinched, and the look he gave you was anything but respectful. 

“Why don’t you tell me if you feel it-” In an instant, he had you locked in a mating press, your legs soaring over your head. Your lungs felt him before your cunt did, your air wheezing out of you as he speared through your shuddering walls. “-now??” 

He’d completely bottomed out and, at that moment, you swore you could feel him in your ribcage. 

Before you had the chance to reply -and you hadn’t yet figured out if you’d wanted to reply with more sarcasm (a reckless move but a tempting one nonetheless) or honesty- he began snapping his hips forward, his cock drilling into you vigorously. 

He usually gave you time to adjust to his size, and he only became more careful the deeper he went, but not today. Today, he had to prove a point. Today was the last day you would be able to walk without a limp. 

His cock pistoned in and out of you, rapid fire, leaving no time for breath. 

“C-C-Caleb!” You choked out, tears burning in your eyes.

“Hold on, baby- gonna give you a couple more ‘droplets,’ how’s that sound?” His hands forced your legs closer to your shoulders, his fingers burying themselves in your skin. His eyes met yours, dark and dangerous. 

You knew that look. He was preparing to go even harder. Your poor, bruised cervix didn’t know how much more it could take. You had no choice but to beg.

“W-Wait! P-Please, Caleb, I was only jok-”

He yanked his cock out only to slam his length into you full force once again. 

“F-Fuck! You’re huge, you’re enormous, you’re gigantic-” Your saliva dribbled down your lips as you babbled your praises to him in hopes it would slow his bombardment. “I n-never should’ve said what I said! I p-promise I didn’t mean it-”

“Are you sure, baby?” He growled. “Maybe I should continue. Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”

“I have, I have!” You blurt out, desperation in your voice.

“Good girl. Now, sit tight and let me breed you like the obedient little thing you are, yeah?” He pressed kisses to your neck as though he meant to soothe you. When his lips finally met yours, his passion igniting pleasure in your every nerve, you forgot about the pain, just for a split second. 

And then you felt your back rise off the bed. 

He would go on to tell you later that you screamed his name so loudly he was sure your neighbors would file a complaint, but in that moment, as he split your pussy open wider on his aggrieved cock, its thick veins purpled with renewed purpose, his eyes burning bright with desire and determination, you swore all you heard was the roaring of blood that was pounding in your ears. 

And even after he’d already come inside you (and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d started coming, as your senses had simply shut down at some point, having overloaded to the maximum), liquid gushing out of him like a geyser, his hips still stuttered back and forth as though he were commanding more to flow out of him. As though he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were spilling out rivers of his lust. 

If he put you in a tub right now, would you fill it up with nothing more than his arousal? 

Before he could get any more ideas, you quickly stammered out, “Okay, okay! It’s more than a drop, it’s more than a drop!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rafayel

Rafayel always had that after-sex glow.

That twinkle in his eyes, that pep in his step, that pink in his cheeks that served as evidence of just how much he’d enjoyed your time together. It was something you looked forward to as much as the sex itself.

But tonight, his more wholesome self was nowhere to be found.

Not after you’d accused him of barely coming inside you at all. 

Tonight, those sparkling eyes were replaced by something more sinister, something more sinful. Tonight, he loomed over you like he was a storm you wouldn’t survive. 

“Didn’t come enough for your liking, huh? You humans- always so greedy, always so demanding, taking what you want, whenever you want it. Well, I hope you can take this.” 

You hissed as he pressed your back against the shower tiles, the cold stinging your skin. Before you had time to complain, you felt the familiar pressure of his cock burrowing itself deep inside your cunt. You wanted to ask how this was any different from the sex you’d just had mere moments ago, but he answered your question with a sharp thrust up your ass.

Wait. 

He…he was in…two places at…

You looked down to find the cock you’d previously drained dry was roaring back to life again, now pistoning itself in and out of your pussy. Below it, an identical cock had emerged, equally engorged, and equally as unrelenting. 

You blinked. Blinked again.

How was this happening? You’d had sex with him plenty of times before, cuddled him enough times that he may as well have been attached to you, so you were sure that you’d taken the time to properly memorize every inch of his anatomy from head to toe. How was it that you’d completely overlooked an entire sex organ? Especially one that large. Had it always…been there? Or were you really so cock drunk that you were imagining things?

“You’re not imagining anything.” 

Your head snapped back up to meet his gaze. Was it that obvious what you were just thinking about??

“I only use it on…special occasions,” He dipped his head down to nip at your earlobe before purring, “And I’d say this counts as a special occasion, don’t you? Wouldn’t want my beloved bride to think I’m holding out on her now.” 

His lips began their tantalizing trail along your jawline, his kisses both reverent and rebuking all at once. This lust-driven path continued down your neck, tongue and teeth working together to paint beautiful bruises along his newest canvas. After a while, he pulled back to survey his work, eyes skimming across the purples and pinks he’d stained into your skin. When he remained unsatisfied with his masterpiece, he began to ravage your breasts. Your skin flushed crimson as he lavished his attention upon them, his greed and desire evident with every stroke of his tongue and suction of his lips.

But even his admonishment of your insolent behavior came off as worship after long enough. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, but only as hard as you liked. He sunk his teeth into the mass of muscle between your neck and shoulder, but only as deep as you liked. And he slapped your ass repeatedly, but only as much as you could take. 

You swore you knew how to speak, or at least, your tongue remembered what words felt like and your ears remembered how they were supposed to sound, but your brain, it seemed, was choosing to go into meltdown mode. You wondered if the bond between you gave away all of your most sensual secrets, allowing him to uncover everything that made you unravel. He had toyed with every sensitive spot on your body, all while fucking you completely dumb in two different places, and you had no words left to give. Only strangled noises that served as evidence of your pleasure. At some point, he’d turned on the water, but you paid no mind to it. You were already drowning in the feeling of him, what was a little water to you?

He strengthened his grip on your legs, pulling you tighter around his waist. Your shoulder blades dug into the shower wall as his weight pressed into you. He was bracing you, but you were too delirious to figure out what for. Up until now, he’d only been slowly thrusting into you, paying more attention to every other spot on your body that made you squirm for him. But he couldn’t forget what his original goal was. You’d asked him to come for you. To come for you impressively, at that. So now it was his turn to feel good.

His pace began to pick up, fingers digging into your thighs, as he plunged himself deeper into your two holes.

You gasped for breath but found only the heat of his lips colliding with yours. He hungrily consumed every squeak and squeal that slipped from your tongue onto his. 

You hadn’t even eaten dinner yet -having gotten distracted by Rafayel coming out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel loosely hanging from his waist, which was when you imposed the first round of intercourse on him- but suddenly your stomach was feeling rather full, having been stuffed to the brim on two fronts. You could feel your belly bulging as he burrowed his way deeper and deeper with every powerful thrust. 

You could tell he was close as his thrusts became sloppy and desperate. Crimson seeped into his skin, following a path from the tip of his ears to the swell of his cheeks, even beginning to creep down the expanse of his neck. Water and sweat alike cascaded down his shoulders. They stuttered down his chest as his heaving breaths minutely disrupted their smooth flow. 

Even as a god, Rafayel had never been particularly religious, only believing in what was relevant to him here and there, only participating when it was of benefit to him, but now, he swore he was seeing Elysium. 

Your lips were parted, breaths bleeding into the steam, your cunt clenching hungrily around his cock, and he swore, when he looked into your eyes, everything from Heaven to Earth, the wind and the waves, the storm and the sun, all parted to allow him passage into paradise. 

And then he passed through the gates.

He only had enough air to groan once, steam and lust clouding his vision in a field of white, before he lost himself in the feeling of you. His cocks spasmed and he lurched forward, his head collapsing onto your shoulder as he began to flood your depths with his seed. 

You were nearly on the edge of bliss yourself, your mind having been unable to focus on a single target of pleasure between his eager conquest of your ass and your pussy, but when you felt his heat sear through you, his cum filling you to the brim, you let paradise claim you. 

Your back arched off the wall, legs squeezing tighter around him, as ecstasy surged through your veins. You were soaring high above the clouds, the breeze dancing along your every nerve, until finally you came down to land in his arms. 

When you squirt all over his pelvis, he lifted a brow, both amused and enlightened by the new information that you now had the ability to squirt for him. He leaned forward, his breath hot on your ear. 

“I guess I’ll have to make everyday a ‘special occasion’ then, if you’re going to come so beautifully for me like that.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zayne

Zayne bit back a laugh.

“Forgive me, but I didn’t realize intercourse required a specific amount of cum to be effective.” He played like he was a researcher, listening to you intently as you provided him with new information that could potentially uproot his entire field of study, but his eyes sparkled with mirth. He wondered how far you’d take this silly, little charade of yours. And he pondered how far he wanted to take it himself. 

“Yes, well, now you know. When we have sex, I expect you to fill me to the brim- nothing like the measly amount you just spilled into me.” You stated your words very matter-of-factly. Except that there was nothing factual about them. You knew damn well that, at this very moment, his cum was still dripping out of you like it had no end. And he knew it too. 

He gave a small smirk. Yeah. He’d made up his mind already; he wasn’t letting his charade end until he was satisfied you’d swallow your own words. “I see. Well, I hate to be so disappointing. I think we’re in need of another trial run then, yes?” You nodded your agreement. “I believe that is the best course of action for this kind of situation.”

“Perhaps-” He suddenly turned you around and bent you over his desk (your eyes widening as he did so) before spearing his cock through your slicked folds once more, “-Your technique was what was lacking. In order to best stimulate my arousal to provide you with the optimum amount of orgasmal release, I’d recommend this angle.”

You let out a choked gasp as you steadied yourself against the desk’s surface. He’d never fucked you from the back before. Something about always wanting to see your pretty face make the expressions that you did. But apparently that factor didn’t apply today. Oh god, were you going to survive him? 

He pulled out just enough so that only his tip remained within you and you bit your lip, bracing for impact. But it never came. His hips very slowly rowed forward again, his erection easing its way into you. His hands planted themselves on your hips, his thumbs caressing your back, as if to tell you how well you were taking him. 

You thought to yourself, this wasn’t so bad. You could keep going like this. You could rock yourself onto him, taking the time to savor his every vein carving itself into your walls. You could do it. Sensual and slow was the way to go. 

Then he reached around to flick his fingers across your clit and while you were busy whimpering at the new sensation, his hips rocketed forward, drilling the entirety of his bulging member through your trembling walls in one go. 

“Zayne!” You cried out.

“Just a little bit longer, and you’ll get what you want.” He murmured, voice hoarse. 

His thrusts grew relentless as his desire overcame him. Sure, he’d been trying to teach you a lesson, but now he was starting to forget what exactly that lesson was. All he could think about was just how perfectly warm you were, how perfectly tight you were, how perfectly soaked you were. He was sure if he lifted you up, you’d have made a mess of his desk already, your arousal pooling beneath you. And it drove him crazy.

He pounded into you tirelessly, his fingers nearly scarring their imprints onto your hip bones from how tightly he grasped you, attempting to stabilize himself. He wanted to feel every inch of you- needed it, really. As a doctor, he knew that logistically speaking, it was impossible for his cock to rearrange all of your internal organs, but he damn well wanted to try. 

You held onto the edge of the desk for dear life as Zayne attempted to split right through your stomach. What was he trying to do? Saw you in half down the middle? 

Your core was nearly on fire at this point; seriously, you were sure the only thing keeping you from sparking into flames from the friction of his cock grating against your walls was the fact that you were so ungodly wet right now. Why were you so wet? Did his ruination of you really feel that good?

He crashed against your cervix and you came on his desk.

“F-F-Fuuuuuck, Zaaaayne!” Your lips quivered, tears spilling down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your throbbing cunt. Your arms buckled beneath you, nerves spasming all over as your orgasm continued to pinball around your body, zinging to and fro, and you ended up fully collapsing on the desk. 

“Hold out a little longer. I’m almost there.” He grunted out. 

“I caaaan’t,” You whined.

“Who’s the one who wanted me to come harder?” He questioned.

You bit your lip. “M-me…”

“And who’s the one who just came on the desk because it felt so good?”

“M-me…”

“Exactly. You’re being such a good girl; I think you can hold out a little longer, yeah? Just until I breed you, nice and full. Yes, my love?”

You nodded shakily. You started this, you might as well finish it. You clenched your eyes shut as he continued to pump into you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It hurt so good. You’d never realized just how big he was. Never realized just how batshit crazy you were for him. 

He thrust into you again. And then again. 

Then he buried his head against your shoulder, groaning and gasping, as his orgasm slammed into him full force. His body shuddered as he struggled to process the ecstasy soaring through his veins. Loads of his cum surged out of him, thick and hot, until it was waterfalling down your legs.

As he caught his breath, he thought to himself that, even with you egging him on, he shouldn’t have been able to come that much. He wasn’t even aware he was capable of producing that much cum. He wasn’t aware that anyone human was capable of producing that much. But, ah well, there was no point in ruminating about this strange, new revelation now. He was finally finished. He could relax again (if you’d let him, you damn tease). 

Then you twitched underneath him and before he could understand what was happening, he started to come again. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Xavier

Xavier stared at you, eyes calculating, arms crossed.

“And what about that-” He bent down to run a finger through the fresh cum that was still drizzling out of you, “-wasn’t enough for you?” He asked, voice low and demanding.

You cleared your throat, preparing to stand your ground. You shrugged. “I’m just saying, I’m hardly soaked. If we were trying to make a baby right now, all we’d have to show for it would be a negative line on a pregnancy test.” 

You were bullshitting him. You totally were. But how else were you supposed to goad him into fucking you more? You’d missed him. He’d spent way too much time frolicking around space, and you’d spent way too much time humping his pillow. You needed him. So if telling him that his cum was unimpressive meant that he’d spend the entire night proving you wrong, you’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

When he immediately left the room, your heart sank. Was the bait not enough? Should you have pushed him harder? Or should you have just told him the truth, that you wanted him to fuck you into oblivion? You wracked your brain, wondering what you were supposed to say when you finally went after him.

You certainly hadn’t expected that he’d come back into the room with…rope. 

“Sit down.” He gestured to a nearby chair.

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the chair. Just what was he planning to do? Obviously, he must be thinking of tying you to the chair, but what then?

“Don’t trust me?” 

His eyes were innocent enough that you made the decision to do as he said. But you shouldn’t have. 

Like you thought, he began to tie you to the chair, but you hadn’t imagined it would be nearly this tight. Your wrists and ankles strained against the rope but it didn’t budge even the littlest bit. Oh fuck. What had you gotten yourself into?

“X-Xavier…what are you going to do to me now?” You asked meekly, your earlier audacity evaporating. 

“Showing you how much I can come for you. Isn’t that what you asked for?” His eyes glint with mischief.

“I did…but how is tying me to a chair related? Don’t you have to come inside me?”

He leaned forward, capturing your chin in an iron grasp, before tilting you to face him. “And who said I had to come inside you?”

Before you could be properly flabbergasted at the single loophole he’d found to ruin your entire plan, he began to pull something out of a box.

You swallowed. “Xavier…what’s that?”

“You’ll see.” He bent down to push the foreign object into your cunt. 

You winced at how cold it was.

At first, it did nothing. Just sat there. Provided some much needed pressure that you’d been hoping his cock would give you, but didn’t do much more than that. 

Then he began murmuring to himself while flipping through a little booklet, which you soon realized was its instruction manual. 

“Hmm. Let’s see. For first time use, low levels are recommended.” He hit a button on a remote and then glanced over the top of the booklet to see your reaction.

It’d begun a pleasant buzzing between your legs but it was hardly enough to elicit any sizable reaction.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not like the other people using this thing. Low level my ass.” He chucked the booklet behind him and began to crank the dials up on the remote.

You jolted forward, sparks shooting through your veins, but the restraints held you in place. Like a wildfire, heat began to burn in your core and spread throughout your body. Sweat rolled down your bare chest, dripping off your peaked nipples. “X-Xavier!” You gasped out.

“Mm.. still think it’s not high enough. You do have high tolerance levels, after all.” He hit the maximum setting and then chucked the remote behind him as well, not bothering to see where it’d landed. Then he sat down and simply watched you, stroking his cock as he did so. 

 The damn vibrator began to wildly thrash in your pussy, igniting and imploding every nerve within your shuddering walls. Your stomach lurched, your lungs feeling like they were collapsing in on themselves. “Xavier!!” In no time at all, you were drooling and squirting all over yourself. 

“That’s it…” He drawled, spitting on his cock as he fucked his palm harder.

“W-W-Waaaait!” You stammered out, choking on your own saliva. As quickly as you’d come, the tension had begun to build itself inside you once again. “C-Can’t…take…” 

“You wanted me to come for you harder, right? So why don’t you come for me harder? Give me a good show. And then I’ll reward you.” He continued to watch you squirm, licking his lips as your drool dripped down your breasts. He ran a thumb over his tip, groaning as he teased himself. 

“S-So…sensitive…” You squeaked out in an almost pleading tone, eyes squeezing shut. Your head had rolled back, shoulders slumped, as you attempted to catch your breath. Your breaths came in such short gasps, you were surprised you’d managed to suck in any oxygen at all. He still hadn’t turned down the setting so your torment continued, a never ending cycle of pleasure and pain. 

When you came again, like a bomb exploding between your legs, he began to circle you. 

You would’ve asked him what for, if you’d had enough energy left, but the vibrating between your legs never stopped, and so you mustered up what strength you had left to endure the next onslaught. 

He played with his balls in one hand, the other still vigorously stroking his impressive length, as he watched you make a mess for him. You were sure you’d ruined the chair by now, but that just turned him on even more.

He finally stopped his circling to stand before you, hand bracing itself on one of your shoulders. You wondered if he’d finally put an end to this cycle, but he didn’t. He simply pumped his hand in and out of his fist faster and then came all over your stomach. 

“That enough cum for you yet?” He growled.

So that was his plan. 

Leaving you no time to answer, he spoke again, “Guess not.” 

He began to play with himself again until his cock had hardened to an almost painful degree. “Look at you…all covered in my cum. All helpless and desperate. You want me to take the pain away, don’t you? To fuck you myself?” Your eyes widened and you quickly nodded. “Yes, Xavier, please! Take this damn thing out of me- I wanna feel you!” 

Still stroking himself, he slipped his fingers inside you to retrieve his little torture device. Surprisingly, the split second he had touched your cunt was enough to make you come again, and you squirt all over his fingers this time. 

“Naughty.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “How should I punish you?” He brought the vibrator between your legs once more and tears began to roll down your cheeks as you prepared yourself for insertion but it never came. Instead, he pressed it to your clit. 

“Mmmph!” You let out a muffled sob as your clit began to swell from the stimulation. At this point, you were sure all your internal organs would just spontaneously combust. You weren’t used to such a rollercoaster of sensations, and right now, you were on an upwards spiral. Each delicious, devious vibration that rumbled against your clit sent you teetering closer and closer to the edge. You fought against your restraints again, if only to try and close your legs, but it was to no avail. That familiar spark was bursting into flames once again. 

When you came for the third time, you were sure you blacked out. Blinking back the oblivion, you realized he’d completely doused the entirety of your neck, torso, and legs, like you were his personal cum dumpster. Seeing you all timid and trembling in combination with his fucked-out fist must have sent him barreling towards his orgasm too. And an impressive one, at that. 

You suddenly heard the snap of a camera and looked up to find Xavier examining the picture on his phone. 

“Yeah. I think that’ll do.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sylus

Sylus scoffed, both amused and irked at the same time. 

He could’ve filled his car’s gas tank with how much he’d come inside you tonight, and still, you were insistent that it wasn’t enough. How bold of you. 

“And do you think, somehow, that you could’ve come anymore than me?” He demanded, gesturing to the liquids that were currently oozing out of you and collecting on the floor in a puddle. 

You lifted your chin to him defiantly. “Do I think I could’ve come more than a grain of sand? Yeah, I do.”

He snorted. A grain of sand. You were literally oozing gallons out of your pussy at this point and you’d had the audacity to first compare him to a raindrop, and now a grain of sand. He’d have to do something about that mouth of yours. 

He spread your legs wide in an instant. “I’d like to see you try, kitten.” He split your pussy open on two fingers, cum spilling out of your slit as he pumped them in and out. “Come for me. Again and again.”

Shit, you thought to yourself, biting your lip. This wasn’t what you wanted when you’d goaded him on. You were just so cum drunk you were hoping to spurr him into coming for you more. You wanted him to soak your bed so much it started feeling like a water bed. You weren’t expecting him to turn the tables on you.

He curled his fingers, thrumming the patch of nerves that always made you choke. 

“Sy!” You groaned.

“What is it, kitten? Can’t do it? Talked too big of a game?” He smirked, fingers still relentlessly plunging into your wet heat. 

You swallowed. “It’s, um…it’s not that…it’s just…”

“Just what?” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust.

Your back arched off the bed. “Fuck!”

“Use your words, kitten,” He drawled, thumb coming up to circle your neglected clit. 

You let out a whimper, eyes rolling back in your head. “W-Wanna… wanna come with you,” you pleaded. 

“Poor kitten. You want my cock that badly, huh?”

You nodded your head vigorously. 

He chuckled, low and dark. “It’s a shame I can’t give it to you. After all, its service has been so poor this evening, isn’t that what you said? I’ll have to find some other way to service you.” His pace picked up and he added a third finger, reveling in the way your cunt swallowed them down with ease. 

“Won’t you show me what it looks like to properly come?” He teased, his words a purr in your ear.

You wanted to bite him, the insufferable man that he was. But your lips were too busy quivering from holding back moans as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Your toes curled into the bed, legs squeezing tightly around his hand as you shuddered your way through the high. His fingers kept the same rhythm even with you squirming around him, never letting your release tiptoe out of reach. 

When you finally finished gasping, he pulled his fingers out, flicking his tongue over them to clean them off. He feigned contemplation as he swallowed down your arousal, like he was some critic at a restaurant. “Not bad, but barely more than a grain of sand. Maybe two grains of sand. Thought you were going to show me something special, sweetie.” He grinned, his lips curled smugly. 

You huffed. “Yeah, well, maybe you just didn’t do enough!” You protested. For a moment, you’d even forgotten that this whole situation was a monster of your own making, and that you’d originally intended for him to be the one coming. Because now you were just offended. 

“Ohh. So I’m the issue. Interesting theory. Shall we test it out?”

Before you could answer -before you could even realize your mistake- he dove in, tongue barrelling through your entrance. His nose nudged against your clit as he inched deeper, devouring every ounce of arousal you had to offer him. Of course, he swallowed loads of his own cum too, and for a moment, he contemplated pulling back to show you just how much of his cum was on his tongue. Prove he’d given you more than a ‘drop.’ But then he felt your hips stutter as you fucked yourself on his tongue, your lust rising, and he could practically smell the sin radiating off of you. It was intoxicating. He wouldn’t dream of stopping now. 

He flicked his tongue in every direction, smirking against your cunt when he felt your walls shiver against him. God, you were going to taste so good when you finally stopped fighting him and just came in his mouth. He continued to lap you up hungrily like he’d never eaten a day in his life. 

And there it was again. That tingling sensation that had begun to build in your core. That rumbling between your legs that only grew with every demanding stroke of his tongue. Your orgasm had begun dancing into view again just like it had before. But…something was different this time. 

This time…oh god…this time you felt like you had to pee.

You began crawling back up the bed, in attempts to pull away from him, but you didn’t get very far. His hands shot out and pinned your hips to the bed. He was starving and you were interrupting his meal. He couldn’t have that. 

“Wait-Sylus!” You wanted to explain yourself. You weren’t pulling away from him, you just didn’t want to piss in his mouth. You wanted to tell him he felt good. He felt amazing. He felt like Heaven in a bottle. But then his tongue licked up your clit, his fingers sliding back into position, and you came for him, hard. 

The air was knocked from your lungs and your vision went white as the ecastasy tore through you, limb from limb. And then your pelvis jerked forward and you squirt all over his face like a flood. 

When you had finally finished, you slowly pulled your legs apart to examine his expression.

He was completely stunned still, his face dripping as he processed this new information.

You cleared your throat. 

“So…um…I’d say that counts as more than a drop, yeah?”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @wifeyofsylus

[saltyfilmmajor]

Haibara revealing the truth about herself to Shinichi will never not be funny to me

[talentforlying]

tapping the mic to say that while john can be pretty cynical about politics, society as an institution, all members of the occult community, and general human susceptibility to favor self-interest over charity, he is also a guy hopelessly in love with the world + with its people and he takes genuine pleasure in all the little things in life.

he may have periods of disillusionment that take him to some bleak & hopeless mindsets, but those moments are vastly outnumbered by the number of times he's stepped outside his flat, felt the sun on his face, and let its fleeting warmth carry him through the day until his next encounter with some passing semblance of joy. he may not readily trust people to do the right thing without some prodding or personal incentives, but that doesn't stop him from extending a kind gesture or a listening ear to a stranger if he finds himself in the position to offer.

[undyingdecay]

Idk if you write for loki (if you dont feel free to ignore this) but if theres any chance you could do non con w him 😓😓😓

it's the way he hears you say no and it doesn’t even register as a rejection, not really, not in any way that matters to a god like him. because in his head you’re already his, always have been, whether you realize it or not. whether you’re brave enough to admit what you really want when you look at him like that. so your little protests are nothing more than a formality, something to amuse him as he pins you in place, as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin, that infuriatingly smug grin curving his mouth because he knows how this ends.

"such a stubborn little thing," he’d purr, voice low, syrup-thick, that lilting cadence curling around you like silk. his fingers — cool and callousless — would trail along your jaw, down your throat, the touch maddeningly gentle for how vile his intentions are. and when you squirm, try to pull away, he just laughs. that rich, dark sound that makes your stomach twist because there’s not a trace of mercy in it.

and then — with a flick of his fingers, that shimmer of emerald light catching in the air, the floor drops out from under you. your body’s heavy, pinned down by invisible chains you can’t see but feel, wrists held above your head, legs forced open, your own voice catching in your throat because you can’t even scream the way you want to.

he looms over you, and it’s obscene the way his gaze roves over every inch of you, hungry, possessive. there’s a darkness to it, something cruel and ancient that no one speaks about in the stories. because this is the real loki — not the charming prince of asgard, not the clever trickster with the pretty words. this is a god who takes what he wants.

"i could make you beg for it, you know," he murmurs, leaning down so his lips brush the shell of your ear, the weight of him unbearable, suffocating. "strip away every shred of that defiance until you're crying for me. but where’s the fun in that?"

and you feel it then, the cool, ghosting touch of magic against your skin, and the betrayal of your own body responding even as your mind fights it. the ache settling low in your stomach, the heat pooling between your thighs because that’s the worst part of it all: he knows how to make it feel good. how to drag you down with him, make you complicit in your own ruin.

he’s everywhere — lips at your throat, teeth scraping your skin, hands mapping out every inch of you like he’s memorizing the shape of your suffering. and when he finally takes you, it’s ruthless, unrelenting, and he makes sure you feel it. every snap of his hips, every filthy word he spits into your ear about how you’re his now, how no one else will ever touch you like this. how no one can.

you’ll sob, you’ll plead, you’ll curse him, but it only makes him grin wider, makes him fuck you harder. because loki doesn’t stop when you break — he starts.

[dogsrot]

thinking about how scary it is when fenrir goes mute before he just starts to laugh . .