#and I fucking need it to finally start feeling alright

[satoruined]

18+ MDNI | ovulation horny makes you a total menace

you’d been at him since morning.

first, it was climbing into his lap while he skimmed the hit file on his laptop: guard rotation, timestamp marked down to the precise second. you weren’t exactly being subtle, either: pelvis tilting, you humped his thigh, chasing friction along the firm ridge of muscle. you could feel your arousal seeping through your panties and you wanted him to feel it too. his dick, semi-hard beneath dark cotton, stayed tantalisingly within view at the corner of your eye. toji clicked his tongue and bounced his leg once, a silent reprimand.

a few hours later, toji was standing near the door, phone balanced between his shoulder and jaw. as he was discussing points of entry in that baritone, impassive yet infuriatingly sexy drawl of his, you were back at it again. arms hooked around his thigh and started grinding on the arch of his foot, while he ignored your hopeful gaze entirely. unfazed, you reached down to untie the knot in his sweatpants, fumbling with the fabric.

“target’s tagged. extraction’s clean if we don’t—”

the drawstring came loose. bingo. your prize was so close… but before you could do more than graze your palm along the waistband, his free hand dropped to the crown of your head, palm splayed wide, trying to guide you off without looking down. like you were a cat interrupting his paperwork.

“—nah, never mind. background chatter,” toji muttered into the phone, tone soured. “i’ll handle it.” he hung up a moment later, and when his gaze finally met yours, it was stony and irritable. underneath his sweatpants, his cock hung half-hard against his thigh—proximity alone had dragged him halfway there.

“you need to cool it,” he warned. you were panting into the floor. aching, slick soaking the crotch of your panties. your answer came as another lazy grind, cunt clenching around nothing.

by evening, he decided he’d had enough of your antics.

you were straddling him again—feverish, panties soaked transparent. that hormonal, molten need throbbing in your pelvis like it had a heartbeat of its own.

“you’re worse than usual,” he muttered, eyes narrowing. “what—your pussy got a death wish or somethin’?”

“m’ ovulating,” you sniffled. “need you so bad i can’t think straight. hurts.” and it did. your body was starving for him—aching in that particular, feral way only he could remedy.

toji stared at you for one long second. rolled his neck—vertebrae popping under the stretch—then turned his head toward the far wall, eyes narrowed as if he was weighing the pros and cons of fucking his ovulating, sex fiend of a girlfriend stupid right then and there.

he pinched the bridge of his nose. sighed.

then stood.

grabbed you by the waist. bent you over the table like it was the only conclusion that ever made sense. your thighs clenched on instinct, trembling with anticipation. panties were soaked see-through from hours of teasing contact that never delivered what you needed. the edge of the table bit into your knees as toji hauled your hips back, yanked the fabric aside unverifiable. he spat into his hand, wrapped it around the base of his hardened cock, gave it a few short, punishing strokes, then he drove into you in a singular, vicious thrust.

your hands flew to the table’s edge, scrabbling for purchase as the legs skidded forward across the floor with an ear-splitting scrape. your breasts flattened to the surface, the friction harsh, but nothing compared to the stretch tearing through your cunt. you keened, partly from the shock of the stretch, but mostly from raw, unfiltered relief of finally, finally being filled.

he froze inside you. cock buried to the hilt.

“you alright?”

the words were rough and clipped. but laced with something that almost sounded like concern. you nodded weakly, sweat-damp forehead pressed to the wood.

“m’fine. need it—please—” you tried to show him, spine arching into a feline curve, hips rolling in languid figure eights. he was so thick your body clenched around him involuntarily, greedily, swallowing him deeper as if eager to prove it could take more. the wet schlick schlick noise that accompanied by your movements ricocheted off the walls, lewd and rhythmic, underscored by the broken moans caught between your teeth.

he muttered something dark under his breath and reared his hips back again, before slamming himself to the hilt. his heavy balls slapped against your cunt, a heat-flush crack of contact. toji fucked you like a release valve. pent-up aggression funneled into rhythm, cock hammering up into your body.

“hghm,” you choked on a gasp, the words tumbling out between sharp, broken moans as your cunt spasmed around him. “fuck—ohmygod—keep going—don’t stop—”

he pulled out so suddenly your body pitched forward, empty and confused. a displeased whimper sounded from your lips—until he grabbed you by the nape and hauled you upright. in one breathless pivot, he turned you to face him, his hand stayed curled around the back of your neck, fingers spread like a collar, steadying you as he speared back in with the same brute force that had you seeing stars.

“that’s better,” he muttered, eyes locked on yours. “wanna see that pretty face.”

then he started fucking you in earnest. full weight behind each thrust, his breathing never faltering while yours broke apart in fragments. pleasure broke you open in white-hot flashes, your orgasm hitting like a seizure, walls clamping down so tightly he hissed through his teeth. slick gushed around the base of him, forming a ring of milky come.

he stayed buried inside as you pulsed around him, velvety walls gripping him so tightly that, in your delirious haze, you were half-convinced he’d stay inside forever. that your body might refuse to let him go. eventually he pulled out, cock hanging flaccid and gleaming against his thigh.

“you done beggin’?”

you licked your lips.

“for now,” you rasped. “check back in five.”

toji made a sound that was somewhere between a chortle and a scoff—and bent to gather you up in both arms, bridal style. your combined spend leaked from between your thighs, dripping to the hardwood floor.

“hell of a fuckin’ distraction,” he muttered, as he carried you towards the shower.

[sweetonsin]

AFTER HOURS

pairings: professor!joel miller x curvy!reader

summary: you're heartbroken, humiliated, and spiraling—your ex not only cheated, but he did it with a skinnier, louder girl from your own lecture hall. It’s your final semester, and your senior capstone professor, Joel Miller, has always been a little too attentive, a little too perceptive. You never thought he noticed you like that..until you're alone in his office, crying, and he tells you to lock the door.

warnings: nsfw, 18+, age gap, au joel miller, teacherxstudent smut, orgasms, creampie, face sitting, joel lovesss her curves, bent over a desk, unprotected piv, protective!joel, female receiving, praise kink!reader.

wc: 5.3K

requested by: @allyourfavesinoneblog

You don’t mean to cry in his office.

You really don’t. You’re not the type. But your hands are shaking, and your chest is tight, and you feel like if you take another step across campus, you’re going to scream.

So you find yourself in front of Professor Miller’s office, heart pounding, makeup already smudged from holding back tears all through his lecture. His door is cracked open, the warm gold light spilling out into the hall.

You knock once. Soft.

Joel looks up from a stack of papers, his eyes immediately narrowing with concern. “Hey. You alright?”

You hesitate.

He sees it all before you can lie.

“C’mere,” he says, voice gentle, but no-nonsense. “Sit down.”

You do.

You collapse into the chair across from him, clutching your phone to your chest like it might break in your hands. You can’t even look up at him. He says your name softly—once, twice. You flinch the second time. That’s when he knows.

“Talk to me.”

You breathe in sharp. “He cheated on me.”

Joel blinks. His jaw works. “The kid you were seeing?”

You nod, choking on the shame. “With that girl. From class. The one who always shows up late and wears nothing—”

“I know the one,” he interrupts, calmly. “And I also know you, sweetheart. And I know you’re worth a hell of a lot more than that skinny little brat with an attitude problem.”

Your mouth parts in shock.

Joel doesn’t take it back.

You look up at him, startled—and he just stares at you, arms crossed, leaning back in his chair. Steady. Calm. And so fucking solid you could cry.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mumble. “He left me for her. That says everything.”

“No,” Joel says simply, “it says he’s a goddamn idiot.”

You shake your head, looking down at your thighs, arms crossed over your stomach. You feel like a joke. “I knew I was too big for him. I knew it.”

And that’s when Joel moves.

He rises from his chair like a storm rolling in—silent but heavy—and crosses the office to crouch in front of you. Big hands, callused and warm, cradle your thighs. His thumbs stroke just above your knees, and his voice is a low hum.

“You listen to me,” he says. “You are soft in all the right places. You’re not too big. You’re too good for some little boy who doesn’t know how to treat a woman. He couldn’t handle you.”

You sniff, still not quite believing it.

His fingers tighten. “But I can.”

Your stomach flips.

“What?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he says. “I ain’t blind, sweetheart. And I sure as hell ain’t sorry for the way I look back.”

You’re breathless. You’ve spent months keeping your crush on Professor Miller quiet. He's always been too good-looking, too rugged, with that low voice and rough Southern drawl and hands that looked too big for academic life.

And now he’s on his knees for you.

“I shouldn’t—” you start to protest.

Joel looks up at you with dark eyes and a crooked smirk. “You came to me, didn’t you?”

He stands, towering over you, then gently takes your hand.

“Lock the door, baby.”

Your breath catches. You do as you're told.

He backs toward his desk, eyes never leaving yours. “C’mere.”

You cross the room like gravity’s dragging you.

He sits on the edge of his desk and pulls you into the space between his legs. One hand cups your cheek. “You sure?”

You nod.

“Use your words, baby. I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m sure,” you whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

That’s all he needs.

His mouth is on yours—hot, firm, commanding. His hand on your waist, gripping the soft flesh with something like reverence. He kisses like he’s wanted to for years. Like he’s angry he didn’t do it sooner.

You gasp against his mouth when he lifts you, setting you onto the desk. Your thighs spread naturally around him, and he groans when he sees how your skirt hikes up.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters. “Look at you.”

His fingers trail down to your thighs, dragging slowly down the curve. “You got any idea what it’s like for me? Tryin’ to teach a lecture when you’re sittin’ there lookin’ like that?”

You whimper. “Like what?”

Joel smirks. “Like everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His mouth finds your neck, licking and sucking until your head falls back. Then he drops to his knees again. This time, it’s not to comfort you.

It’s to worship you.

He pushes your thighs open and groans, burying his face between them like a man starved. His stubble scrapes against the sensitive skin, his tongue already licking through your soaked panties.

“Oh my God, Joel—”

“Shh,” he rasps. “Lemme taste you. That’s it, baby. You just sit back and take it.”

You cry out when he tears your panties off and dives in properly—tongue stroking, sucking, teasing your clit until your hips buck. You try to hover, overwhelmed by the intensity—

And then he growls, wrapping strong arms around your thighs to hold you in place.

“I said sit, baby. Not hover.”

You gasp.

“If I die, I die,” he mutters into your cunt. “Let me drown in this sweet fuckin’ pussy.”

You sob out a laugh and moan all at once, thighs trembling around his face.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans. “So fuckin’ sweet, baby. That boy didn’t deserve you. Didn’t know how to treat you. Didn’t know how to eat.”

His tongue works you like a machine, flicking over your clit just right, curling inside you until your whole body locks up. Joel’s muttering between strokes:

“That’s it, baby.”

“Good girl.”

“You’re perfect.”

“I could live between these thighs.”

You come with a broken cry, your hands gripping his curls, your thighs locked around his head—and Joel moans like he’s the one getting off. He keeps licking, letting you ride it out on his tongue until you’re limp and boneless on his desk.

When you finally blink up at him, Joel’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wild.

“You good?” he rasps.

You nod weakly. “More than good.”

“Good,” he says, standing. “Because I’m not done with you.”

Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing—like he’s grateful you’ve got thighs for him to hold—and carries you to the leather couch against the wall. He sets you down gently, pulling his belt free with one hand.

“Joel—”

“I’ve been patient,” he mutters, unzipping his pants. “Been good. But the way you taste? The way you fuckin’ moan?”

You glance down and swallow. He’s huge.

“You still want me?” you ask, softly. “Even like this?”

Joel stills.

Then—he steps forward, straddles your thighs, and grabs your hand. Places it right over his cock, hard and heavy in his boxers.

“You feel that?” he growls. “That’s for you. Not them. Not her. You. Every soft fuckin’ inch of you turns me on. I don’t want some bony little brat—I want a woman.”

You’re breathless. Wet all over again.

“I want you. So bad it hurts.”

You tug his boxers down, and his cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking. He strokes it once, slowly, as he watches you take it in.

“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Hands on the couch. I want you from behind.”

You obey, heart racing.

He lines himself up and slides in slowly—inch by inch—and fuck, he fills you so deep you can barely breathe.

You cry out, head dropping.

Joel curses, gripping your hips hard. “So tight, baby. So warm. Took me so fuckin’ good.”

He starts moving, thrusts slow and deep. One hand cups your belly, the other on your hip. You feel him everywhere—inside you, around you, claiming every inch.

“You know what I see?” he pants. “When I look at you in class?”

You shake your head, gasping.

“I see thighs I wanna bite. Hips I wanna bruise. Tits I wanna suck. A body I wanna worship.”

You moan, arching back into him. “Joel—”

“I see a girl who deserves the fuckin’ world. And I wanna give it to you.”

You come again with a choked sob, pulsing around him, legs trembling.

Joel groans like he’s dying and spills inside you with a harsh moan, grinding into you until he’s drained.

You both collapse onto the couch, tangled together, panting.

His arms wrap around you from behind, lips pressed to your shoulder. “You okay, baby?”

You nod against his arm. “More than okay.”

You rest like that for a long moment, wrapped in warmth and the scent of him—earthy, musky, safe.

Then Joel kisses your neck and whispers, “Next time, I’m takin’ you home.”

You blink up at him.

“Gonna cook for you. Run you a bath. Put you in my bed and make you forget every bad thing that little shit ever said about your body.”

You smile, eyes glassy. “Yeah?”

Joel grins.

“Yeah, baby. And tomorrow?” He pulls you closer. “You’re gonna walk into that class lookin’ smug as hell. Let ‘em wonder why you’re glowing.”

[idontknowmanijustlikereading]

Unique!AU: Habits/Urges

Alright, I can finally rope our dearest Rumi into this as well! Let's get into the habits and urges that arise with their funky genetics:

Starting with Rumi since I haven't included her much in this au yet. These are going to be post reveal btw, because my girl was deep in suppression before:

Rumi, anxious half-demon:

I have very much fallen for the "Rumi purrs, growls and is a walking mood ring" propaganda. She can also whine pathetically like a kicked puppy. It's just as effective as Zoey's puppy-dog eyes.

You want to really hear her purr? Gently take the braid out and scratch her scalp. Since both Mira and Zoey have sharp nails Rumi is in absolute heaven every time they do this. Which is just about always since they love hearing her purring.

Has the urge to "feel" Zoey and Mira's souls. She doesn't fully want to consume them as much as she just likes to kind of brush against them(don't ask me how this works idfk). They are offered on a silver platter to her at all times because of how much the other two trust her, so she kind of uses them like you would scented candles.

She does sometimes get cuteness/love aggression with this and feels the urge to just squeeze the souls until they're dust. This scares the shit out of her, to the point of isolation. Mira and Zoey have to coax her out of hiding with reassurances that, no, she's not a monster or a danger to them, she just loves them a lot.

(She obviously would never hurt either of them, but even the thought makes her want to vomit)

Is heat resistant, so she sometimes forgets to use oven mittens and just grabs it willy nilly. Mira was the first to see this and damn near had a heart attack.

Is constantly jump scaring Zoey with how quiet she is (She has not quite managed to bypass Mira's enhanced senses yet).

Once the secret is out, she does get into growl matches with Mira sometimes. Almost never over anything serious. Rumi sounds a bit like a tiger growling, but Mira sounds a lot more like a fucking dinosaur. The lizard bastard. Zoey likes to record them sometimes just for the growls(she thinks it's hot).

Fairly possessive over people she consider "hers". Doesn't like people getting too close to them or touching them. Always gets really guilty for the irrational anger she feels if these things happen. (The girls being "hers" is a given, but Bobby also falls into this category, just not in the romantic sense)

Because of the suppression of her demon side, there are constantly new things that she is discovering about herself. She and the girls keep note of everything.

Starts teething when her fangs are coming in. If the ache is mild, Mira and Zoey are more than willing "victims" of the teething, but if it's bad, she uses those baby toys.

Tends to perch on things like a gargoyle. Stays as still as one as well. The kitchen counter, the back of the couch etc.

Has perched on Mira's shoulders before, will do so again.

She likes the high ground(okay Obi-wan).

Has fallen asleep on Zoey while she was floating in he air. Imagine Rumi laying on her while Zoey is just flat in the air, stomach towards the ceiling. The image hopefully reminds you of a big-cat napping on a tree branch, limbs hanging loosely towards the ground and all that, completely conked out, because that's what I'm picturing.

Is a bit more nocturnal than a human, so she tends to nap throughout the day if they have things they need doing in the daylight.

Mira, resident half-dragon:

Hoarding. She does it to things she has an emotional attachment to instead of just money.

Every little thing that Rumi, Zoey and Bobby has gifted her has a place in her hoard. There are little notes of encouragement, some knick knacks, clothes that the other's thought would fit her(in general things that they got her when she wasn't with them, because it showed that they thought about her even tho she wasn't there)

She also kind of hoards people. This only extends to Rumi and Zoey, though.

She does not like when they are out of range for her senses. It makes her anxious and frays her nerves a bit. Prefers when they're all together and within reach. Kind of like a boarder Collie, she tends to herd them all together to the same space.

Has to be outside for a moment if it's raining/storming. Fucking loves the rain and how it feels on her skin and scales. She doesn't get sick from the cold, so the other two don't really have an excuse to drag her back inside(they like to watch how she shimmers and how pleased/peaceful she looks in the rain), unless they have other things going on.

Even then it's an uphill battle, with Zoey having to deploy her best puppy-dog eyes and Rumi whining at her until she folds and goes back inside. She will grumble about it and spitefully not use her water-abilities to dry herself before stepping back inside, dragging in half a river with her soaked hair.

Same goes for beach/pool-days. Mira will be more raisin than human/dragon by the time she gets out of the water.

Takes extremely long showers

She sheds her scales once in a while. The new scales grow under the old ones until the old ones are more stiff and fall off. Sometimes they don't fall off, though, and she has to get them off manually. Rumi and Zoey love helping with this, because they think it's really satisfying to peel them off. (Mira thinks they're slightly weird for this, but it feels nice and they seem so happy about it so she doesn't actually mind beyond a bit of light teasing.)

Once a scale is shed it's very solid, since it's old and no longer needs to be pliant for movement. It feels and looks a bit like metal. Pink metal, but metal nonetheless.

Rumi and Zoey noticed this and fucking ran with it, turning them into jewelry. First time Mira saw Zoey with rings made from her scales and Rumi with her scales dangling from her ears, she blushed so hard the pink scales on her face were a lighter shade than the red in her cheeks.

Always sleeps on her side or stomach because of her spine spikes and horns.

Speaking off: She will melt into goo the moment they scratch her back, specifically between the spine ridges. All three of them have some form of claws and they all take full advantage. The back and scalp scratches are phenomenal.

Also loves it when they scratch the base of her horns. Can and will give happy chuffs like a tiger.

Will also give head bumps as a sign of affection. Watch out for the horns.

Zoey, chaotic part go dokkaebi:

Dokkaebi are spirits, right? Spirits/ghosts tend to have spooky voices that are haunting and echo, right? Right. Zoey can also do this type of voice, but she doesn't do it much. She either does it to mess with the other two a little (it doesn't work much anymore, but in the beginning they freaked out every time she did it), but mostly she does it when they're far away so she doesn't have to yell. Since the spooky voice echoes, it carries farther without as much effort.

First time she did it for something mundane whichever one she spoke to came out looking like they were haunted. They were just chilling in their room, and then they just heard "Mira/Rumi, Come here..." in that classic "oh shit I'm about to be murdered by a ghost" voice.

She has urges towards pranks. Like an itch under her skin. She is capable of ignoring this for a while, especially if the other two really aren't in the mood. It's never anything malicious, just harmless things, like giving them a cup of coffee with too much sugar/no sugar while already having a perfect cup prepared etc.

Between Rumi's teleporting and Zoey's speedblitzing, Mira has her work cut out for her when those two get the zoomies. Usually she lets them tire each other out(and hopes they do so without casualties or property damage)

Likes to kind of submerge herself in the Honmoon. Just feel it ripple across herself and others. Especially likes to check in with the other two through it.

In general likes to sit in/run around magic rich areas and soak in it like a flower would the sun. Rumi and Mira don't actually feel or sense magic in the same way Zoey does, but they're more than happy to gain joy from Zoey's pleasure.

Post reveal she almost never uses a glamor around the penthouse. It drains energy, not much, but she still doesn't want to bother with it if she doesn't have to. The only things she still consistently hides are the black sclera, gums, and tongue. It's something Rumi and Mira work tirelessly towards getting her comfortable with showing (they both find these features extremely hot so their motives aren't completely selfless lmao)

Her patterns aren't sensitive like Rumi's are, but she still really enjoys it when the other's run their fingers across them.

Her own patterns actually helped Rumi a lot with accepting hers.

"Do you find me repulsive?" "What? No!" "Do my marks disgust you?" "No! Of course not! I love you and your marks, not despite them!" "...Do you get it yet?" "..." "Would you like us to say it?" "...Yes please."

Flies. A. Lot.

Mostly it's in the living area, where she'll just be aimlessly spinning in circles while writing down lyrics.

Sometimes she'll pretend to be sitting on a wall because she thinks it's funny.

A lot of the time she's upside down. (Spider-man kisses are frequent.)

Does actually use her magic in public sometimes. Usually it's with younger fans, where she'll create some sparks/mini fireworks in her hands.

The fans have created compilations of Zoey doing tricks, and Zoey never explains anything beyond "a magician never reveals their secrets ;)"

The mythical world is the most suspicious of Zoey being one of them simply because of how "open" she is with her magic. (she is still very careful about anything that couldn't be explained away, so no one is actually sure)

Gets antsy and agitated if she goes too long without using a weapon. Usually she solves this by either sparring or twiddling with her shin-kals. (very good with her hands)

When she was younger she'd give her parents heart attacks because they'd find her tossing knives with scary accuracy.

Goblin cackles every once in a while.

Likes to sometimes hold onto her tusks. She doesn't know why she likes it, probably because it puts a nice pressure on her skull.

Can, will, and has bent herself into cabinets before. She likes the spaces.

[n0vation]

Just a release. Nam-Gyu x Reader

ㄨSUMMARY: You managed to help him through his withdrawal with a new addiction hobby, of course he will reward you! ㄨ╰┈➤ˎˊ˗PAIRING: Nam-gyu x female!reader/ Smut/ Dark content ╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TAGS/WARNINGS: pathetic namgyu/ bit of misogyny/ noncon / dubcon / choking / creampie / corruption kink? A/N: still working on jojo asks, jujjika ask and jojo special but focusing squid game is making me too creative

══✿═══✿════╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞════✿════✿══

Hands gripping his hair, pulling his collar , toying with his clothes , he was almost making you feel bad. If it wasn't for how those hands coldly killed Se-mi night ago. Miserable, pathetic and obviously needy, he was begging at the guards to let him go back for only a second.

Desorientated, he got up after being roughed up by the guards to reach the bed close to yours. If it wasn't for Thanos, you would probably have taken the furthest bed and hate this man along the other, but the temporary feeling of safety and appreciation for Se-mi , got you in this situation.

The last two of the Thanos's group. The last two of the group that brought the game this far. The least two capable of going further alone.

Sat on her bed, you thought of the money and the next vote before you heard someone speaking behind you. Mumbles and slurs came to your ears as you recognised the voice of the addict.

His word had no longer meaning, forced to fit together to externalize his forced withdrawal.

Slowly falling into Morpheus's arms, your sore body finally relaxed with the light going off before you felt your breathing gets harder. In fact something was restraining your mouth and dragging you out of your sheets. Fighting off the hand, you were only pulled closer to the thick body ,walking with difficulty to a corner. You recognised the ring and the tattoo from the arm clawing at your head and all it did was double your worries.

"Stop it already." He mumbled, sighing heavily. Your movements only managed to disturb his weak balance while you tried to grab the metal from the bed you passed by.

"If it was Thanos, you wouldn't behave like that. You're all the same you women." He said with difficulty, with his throat tightening on the name. He used his second hand to awkwardly search to pass under your arms and bring you faster away.

The second his arm leave your body, you open your mouth before getting shoved into the wall with his hands clawing over your jaw.

"Just.." He started hesitant. "Just a release" He begged his expression looking at you as if you were the only person capable of saving him. Theoretically, you were. Practically, you were the last shot of highness he could get from this pit of hell.

"You want alright? I'm in my right yea? Of course I can alright?" You felt like he was trying to persuade himself more than you. He ran a hand in his hair, the other holding you before pulling on his shirt as if he was choking.

"Women just need a lead. I will lead you" He roughly turned you , face to the wall before sliding an arm around your neck. He shushed you as he slid an huried hand to free you from your pants.

Divided between maintaining your weak breathing and holding your clothes, you felt your eyes getting blurry before pain in your lower belly brought you back to your harsh reality. You were at the mercy of a fucking junkie getting into your pants.

His thick cock found its way in a single fast thrust, pushing you against the wall at the same moment he bottomed you. You yelped and squirmed at his egoistical treatment. His second arm slid under your chest , securing you for his futur movement while he drowned your ears in stuttering apologies and justifications.

He pulled back resting his forehead on your shoulder before going in roughly again, arching your back at the feeling of the hit in your cervix.

His irregular thrusts then took a fast rhythm while his hands were constantly roaming over you. You felt the air knock off of your lungs at his sloppy assault on, you giving up on the idea of fighting in such an unfair combat.

By moment his incoherent speech was cut by heavy sighs and quiet moans, reminding you how he was getting off on your used self. You ended up paying attention to his words noticing his sentences fumbling between praising your behavior and mixed feeling toward your person.

"fuck i'm gonna get addicted to you instead" his head falling over your shoulder.

"I should fucking slaughter you on spot for .. for having such a choke hold on me" his hips hitting yours harder.

Then you felt his hands shake over your chest before delivering extra pound that costed him long heavy whimpers as Namgyu brought you closer almost in a loving embrace if it wasn't for the hand over your mouth and his body raping yours.

Miserable, pathetic, and ridiculous was all his poor tentative was making you think as he kept you in his arms while cumming. Anger helped you breathe before the reality stuck up in your throat: he had you defiled for his own good.

Legs not holding you fairly anymore and tears flooding your face brought Nam-Gyu back to earth. You witnessed his flushed face look at yours with concern as his grip on you got stronger.

"You felt that too ?" his voice filled with delusion, pressing his feelings over yours.

"You can just accept it, i'm not going to make you regret it" he mumbled while attempting to corrupt your melting brain. Was it working? You sure wouldn't regret relying on another addiction after ending up so low.

His determined hands flipped you over with ease before finding their way on your hips. You felt him adjusting your limp limbs around his waist. Manhandled in a fake lover embrace, you obeyed his orders and laid your arms over his shoulder while hoping for mercy. Your weeping expression crossed gaze with his stern look, his eyes squinting and aching for more. Almost you could almsot recognized his high eyes in those one.

His fingers forced your mouth open and pressed on your tongue to silence your pleas while he snuck up his fingers inside your dirtied panties. Twisted smile was drawn on his face as he earned reactions from you to his awkward movement on your lower.

His shaft pressed against your abused cunt pulling desperate sounds from you as Nam-gyu shushed you. Starting again his forbidden assault, circling over your numbness,kissing the tears off of you, moving you up and down with the strength of each shove, you were barely even feeling the pain of his intrusion as you started to recognize the familiar knots tightening in your guts.

He snickers, proud of the shakiness spreading in your legs as he pumped you faster and came along with you. He drove his cock some more, stuffing you with your mixed release before keeping you there and laying his head on your form before mumbling again.

Was that shame on his face? Apologize out of his mouth? Guilt in his words?

[sharkbitten-sailor]

GUESS WHAT GRIMS BACK FOR SECONDS.

Alright imagine this for the one of a kind au

The forsaken group end up in sonaria kinda like the thing you made

But we just go absolutely feral and go into hunting mode, why? Because we are basically a apex predator and we haven’t ate in who knows how long, AT THIS POINT WE DONT EVEN CARE WHAT SONARIAN CREATURE WE KILLIN WE GOTTA EAT.

And then Those fuck ass meteor showers, acid rain, thunderstorms and etc happen cuz we can’t have a day of peace.

But at least we can finally go into tier 4 and 5 creatures with out destroying anything

Anyway in the nutshell the killers and survivors have to hold us back from going completely feral (which doesn’t work to a point) cuz technically they are tier one (tiny) and we I honestly don’t know AND OH THEN WE GO FIGHT A WARDEN AND SOMEHOW WIN ALTHOUGH WITH A LOT OF WOUNDS BUT WE KEEP GOING NOT GIVING A THOUGHT ABOUT OUR INJURIES BECAUSE WE ARE RIGHT NOW FERAL.

Eventually we calm down and pick all of them up and go to a cave somewhere to not get hit by the acid rain, and after we just kind fly, swim and run around with the survivors on our back around the world of sonaria while dodging molten lava, avalanches, acid rain, meteor shows, tornadoes and etc cuz this world like forsaken can’t give us peace, after all its

Kill or be killed

That’s the bitter truth which the forsaken crew learns and something we have known for some time now

welcome back grims anon! honored to have your madness return to my inbox with another certified peak masterpiece 🫶

to say, your creativity is on a whole other tier/gen. like, GENIUS.

but this is so real im crying/j. if i had 10 deaths, half would be from those stupid disasters💔

anyway lets dive into survivors / killers’ reactions before i have to go to my extra class. also deepest apologize if i got your ideas wrong i dont have much time atm（；´д｀）ゞ

the common reaction across survivors would be absolute fear / caution. not because you’ve done anything intentionally, but because you growl, hiss, and your eyes have that “i’ll bite first, ask never” look constantly. they’re living beside a living tempest.

the sentinels (minus a certain cultist) try their best with cautious gestures, such as PHYSICALLY KNOCK YOU DOWN (dw it’s not hurt it’s just like sibling bonk. at least to you ig,,) problem is, they’re never sure if it’ll settle you down or make things worse instead of better. they’re walking a tightrope every time you twitch.

007n7 and elliot cling to diplomacy. “...hey- maybe take a breath?...” while your claws are halfway through stone.

builderman and dusekkar keep their distance. thankful, sure, but still wary of you. they keep to an arm’s length most of the time.

jane doe stands somewhere in the middle. still, others can tell there’s a quiet worry in her eyes.

noob does the same, though it’s purely out of fear. they need comfort patrol on duty 24/7. poor lil pal.

two time? yea no. they’re on divine dial-up, praying to the spawn for disaster control. or at the very least, a bit of breathable air.

taph, like a sweet soul he is, gets it. understands your rage on a molecular level. offers rocks, sticks, soft leaves, and even preens your wings if you let them. they do it gently, like trying to remind you what tenderness feels like.

and the disasters... don’t even start. floods and earthquakes are the absolute worst (im projecting) they move, and they force you to move, dragging half the crew behind you

transport logistics are wild: some survivors ride on your back, some cling like windblown flags, and the unlucky few (aka guest, chance, and 007n7) get the collar grab treatment. looks like a mother cat relocating her kittens.

shedletsky’s living the dream. sits on your head like it’s the best seat in sonaria. surprisingly, you allow it

... when you’re stable i think,,

as for the killers? well, they will have their own way to solve problems. perhaps.

things would go like: 1x and azure brawling in some random corner, c00lkid trembling (thunder and meteors freak him out) while jason pats his back, john doe zoned out nearby (not even blinking), guest 666 staring blankly at the acid rain like a dog watching water fall, doombringer’s one twitch away from total annihilation, mafioso hating every second here and noli off to the side, joking memes to himself or whoever happens to be nearby.

[that’s it for now, i’ll expand it later in the future / gotta save up contents gang]

unless they stick with you, someone who’s lived this hellscape. but then they’ll have to face the survivors gang head-on.

ironic, right? there’ll be an entire circus trust

you’re the wall now. the last barrier keeping them from ripping each other apart before your own hunger kicks in. wait who said that-

i imagine you’d shapeshift into ardor warden (or something close enough) low budget, obviously. not that it matters tho. you’re massive just enough to stretch across the cave floor and block every frantic climb attempt from either side.

... except shedletsky & 1x / azure & two time. they never stop detest each other’s breath like it’s poison. you have to either shake your body or grab them down like misbehaving cats when they get too rowdy. they always hiss back, claws out, trying to tear through your skin / fur. somehow it never works.

jane huh? just block john out of her view and let her settle into the madness of your fur. she’s been through enough, and you’re the closest thing to peace she knows here.

the killers may be the pain in the ass most of the time, but at least they’re useful. 1x and noli can scout for supplies during acid rain. for some reason, that mess barely affects them.

guest 666 is your swim champ whenever flood hits. you could go yourself, sure. but then who’s babysitting the two gangs trying to maul each other?

that said, the actual problem is: it’s not what they can do, it’s whether they’ll actually listen to you when it counts.

but there’s one thing they all know for sure.

this ain’t forsaken anymore. no more respawns or endless loops. they used to call this freedom, sweet release of death; but now? they’ve got bigger problems.

and you’re the only one here who doesn’t want to devour them alive. the only one who’s willing to help them survive.

after writing all this shi i just realized the spectre doesn’t even no-clip into sonaria which means all the nerfs vanish UGSHDHSD OKAY fine. just imagine the nerf still sticks to them for a little while AUGHGHGH

the tags are so long im crying

edit; have to tag again because DHUXHHUBCLELCBSH/ gen anger

[mirrorthoughts]

Steter prompt for you : Set after the whole basement thing in S2. Peter is still an Alpha when he comes back (freaky voodoo necromancytw ftw)

Anyhooters, Alpha Peter finding Stiles alone in the warehouse, slowly dying from internal bleeding from said basement injuries and having to turn him to save him

I'm sorry it took me so long to write this 😭

But still thanks for the prompt! Here you have a bit over 1k for it :D

@superfluffycam-blog & @ladyofsoa I'm working on your prompts, too! I'm just... slow rn 😂😅

The warehouse had suddenly quieted down after the chaos. Stiles wasn't quite sure what had happened in the end, the debilitating pain in his body making it hard to even stand stable. He was sure that his last stunt, driving the jeep through the wall, had finally broken something. Or maybe it was a concussion that had made everything hazy and hard to focus on. He wasn't sure.

He'd watched Lydia raise Jackson from the dead, then he'd blinked and they'd been gone. When he'd turned around to look for Scott, or Derek, or, hell, even fucking Gerard, everyone had vanished. They'd all just… left him here. Not even asking how he was, where he'd been, what had happened to him.

Stiles turned around again, this time towards Roscoe, and took a couple of slow steps, each of them harder and more unstable than the last. He just needed to get back to his jeep. He just needed to sit down and start the engine and then-

He blinked when he suddenly felt the cold floor on his face, the pain pulsating through his whole body. He felt cold. Why was it so cold? He was wearing enough clothes that it shouldn't be cold, right? But he wasn't sure if he was still feeling his toes - or fingers, for that matter - which seemed like a very, very bad thing. Though he couldn't quite remember why it was bad that he was cold other than that he didn't like feeling like this. If he just curled up a bit more, he could surely get warmer and just… sleep the exhaustion off, right? Was he already curled up? Was that important anymore? He could just sleep. He would just close his eyes for a couple of minutes, regain some strength and then-

"Stiles!!"

Peter hadn't expected to come back to an empty warehouse with nothing but the boy lying motionless on the floor. He'd followed Gerard to take care of him and had only turned back once he'd been done to clean up whatever was left in the warehouse. He'd seen - and smelled - that Stiles had been hurt, but he'd also expected someone other than him to care. Obviously he had been wrong.

He kneeled down next to Stiles, hands gingery sliding over the boy's back up to his shoulders until his fingers pressed against the boy's neck, feeling for the pulse he could only hear in sluggish, weak beats. Making sure that he was hearing right, that there still was a pulse no matter how wrong it sounded. "…et'r?" Even Peter's superior hearing had almost missed what he would like to call a mumble but was too quiet to actually be considered one. The word had been nothing more than a breath leaving Stiles' lips. Then the boy's eyelids fluttered, though his eyes were entirely unfocused and had lost their sharp intelligence.

"Yes." Peter took a deep breath. He had to do something. Stiles was dying right in front of him.

He fletched his suddenly very sharp teeth and let his eyes glow red as he brushed a hand through Stiles' sweaty and dusty hair. "You are dying, Stiles… Do you want the bite?" Stiles' eyes closed and Peter felt his heart sink. But he could still hear a pulse, could still feel it below his fingers, no matter how slow it was. He hadn't lost his boy, yet.

"Y'renalpha?" He almost didn't understand the next mumbled words but as soon as he did he nodded. "Yes, I am." "…alright."

Peter breathed his relief in, leaned forward and carefully bit his new beta's shoulder. Now all he could do was wait.

Stiles hadn't expected to open his eyes again. He'd been so sure that he would die. He'd even hallucinated an Alpha Peter who was offering him the bite to save him.

Now, though, there was warmth all around him and the pain was gone. Instead there was something like reliefprideamusement humming in his chest, a feeling he couldn't help but bask in with a content sigh. "Finally awake?" a velvety voice brushed over his ears, quiet but with an audible smile. There were other noises, too. Someone washing dishes, a pair of voices discussing ingredients for dinner, a TV running on a sports channel, birds rustling in the leafs of a tree.

"What…?" Stiles mumbled and slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight coming in from the window. A page was turned right next to his ear, the sound fitting to Peter reading his book in a chair on the other side of the room. "What happened? …Also how the hell aren't you dead?" "You should worry about yourself, sweetheart," Peter answered without looking up, his voice still in that same weird quiet but loud way. "You almost died on me last night."

"Oh."

Stiles stared at the wolf, his brain working to understand what Peter was and wasn't saying. Or at least working at putting all the pieces together and actually forming a picture with all the bits and pieces he'd already collected.

He'd known that he was dying.

He hadn't wanted to, had tried not to, had ignored it the same way he ignored dirty clothes he wasn't quite ready to collect and wash yet. Peter spelling it out for him like this didn't give him the option to ignore it. He still could shove it aside and concentrate on all the other things happening, though. That sliver of anxiety and panic welling up inside him at the thought of leaving his dad alone was something he would look at once he was alone and could fall apart without an audience.

So instead he slowly sat up to look around and concentrated on what he could hear and-… and smell. He could smell Peter. He could smell the surprisingly strong scent of lavender in the pillows and the cover he'd been snuggled up in. He could smell the scent of vanilla and pine he associated with Peter, though he'd always thought the scent had more to do with Peter's favorite bourbon than with the wolf itself. But now he could smell the alcohol somewhere outside of the bedroom they were in and while it smelled similar to Peter, it was also entirely different.

"So… you bit me?" He'd wanted to ask 'who', but if Peter was here, then maybe, maybe what he'd thought to be a hallucination had actually been true. He didn't want Derek as an Alpha. He actually wanted no one as his Alpha. But if he had to choose, he'd prefer Peter over any of the Alphas he'd met. "Is that a problem?" A pang of hesitation and worry bloomed in his chest. Insecurity, too, if he understood the feeling correctly. Nothing of it showed on Peter's face or in his scent. Almost nothing, anyway.

He shook his head, then got distracted by how loud his hands seemed to scratch over the cover, and stared at his clawed fingers. "I'm glad it's you," he mumbled anyway as he pulled his claws back in, too fascinated by his own changes to see the relief cross Peter's face.

"Good," was all the answer he got before Peter rose to his feet and walked over to the door. "Try to get some more sleep. You'll need it, sweetheart."

[sturnforest]

sweet tooth

synopsis- you accidentally take a sex chocolate chris was hiding, and now he has to help you

pairing: brat tamer!chris x brat!reader

warnings- lowkey dom!chris, oral (f receiving), p in v, multiple orgasms, praise and degradation, pet names (angel, princess, use of good girl, sorry), bondage, begging i guess, stomach bulge, accidental use of aphrodisiacs, aftercare, no y/n.

don’t do drugs. this is fiction. do not do drugs.

it was innocent, really. all you wanted was something sweet. nothing in the fridge would satisfy your craving, mostly soft drinks and random sauces and ingredients. the cabinets were filled with mostly chips and cups, nothing to satisfy your sweet tooth.

that’s when you remembered what chris came home with the other day: a bar of chocolate wrapped in a mysterious gold foil with no label. he specifically told you, “don’t eat this, i’m saving it for later.” but right now it was the only thing you could think of to eat.

so, you climbed onto the counter to reach into the highest shelf of the cabinet where he had hidden it. the chocolate looked very fancy when you unwrapped it. assuming it was some of that high quality dark chocolate shit chris seemed to love, you broke off a piece and popped it into your mouth. the chocolate was exactly what you were craving, smooth and sweet.

finally satisfied, you made your way back down to chris’s room. you found him the same way you left him: scrolling mindlessly on tiktok. you cuddled up next to him, bathing in the warmth his body emitted. everything felt normal, relaxed.

until it didn’t.

you gradually became more uncomfy, shifting more. the blankets became way too hot and chris’s arm around you made your skin feel tingly. suddenly the only thing on you mind was chris. how his hand holding his phone looked incredibly sexy, his hair fell perfectly, and his lips looked incredibly kissable.

chris noticed, obviously. he was so in tune with you that he always knew when something was up, whether you were upset or hiding something. this time, though, you were feeling something a little different.

“what’s wrong with you, kid? why are you so squirmy all of a sudden?” he asked, focused on how your eyes were trained on his lips.

“dunno, chris.” you mumbled, his words flustering you. “feel weird.”

“what’d you do?”

“i uh,” you hesitated, not wanting to admit that you disobeyed him. “i ate the chocolate.”

“fuck, angel. you weren’t supposed to eat that.”

“i know, im sorry.”

“that’s why you feel weird. those are aphrodisiacs.” he explained. your brows furrowed, not familiar with the word. “sex chocolates. they make you horny.”

“oh.” you whispered.

“how many did you eat?” he asked, voice laced with concern. “just one.” you bowed your head in shame, “please help me.”

chris hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should punish you for going against his orders or if he should help you. finally he made up his mind. “alright, i’ll take care of you.” he said, moving so he was on top of you. he began to remove your clothes, starting with your shirt. now that the chocolate was really kicking in, you felt incredibly needy for his touch. the wet patch on your panties was growing quickly.

chris, on the other hand, wasn’t being so quick. he slowly kissed down your bare chest, every movement fatigued. need coursed through your body. the need was almost unbearable, and all you wanted was for him to touch you.

he slipped off your shorts and panties, now making you fully naked. you rubbed your thighs together, hoping to create some sort of relief, but it didn’t work. you were helpless underneath him and he wouldn’t do anything about it.

as he kissed down your stomach, over your hips, and down your thighs, you started to get frustrated. it was clear that you needed him, chris knew that. but instead of helping, it seemed like he was making you suffer. a punishment for your actions.

without thinking, you slipped your hand between your legs, rubbing circles into your clit. the touch you desperately needed elicited a loud moan from your throat. you kept going, chasing the high, until the pleasure stopped.

chris’s hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping the movement completely. his eyes glared towards yours.

“did i tell you you could touch yourself?” he spoke through gritted teeth. you sheepishly shook your head no in response. chris rolled his eyes and got up on his knees to take off his belt. it was one of his belts he altered just for you, with an extra hole in it so he could tie it around you wrists.

he flipped you onto your stomach and gathered your wrists behind your back, tightly fastening his belt around them. you were now completely helpless, unable to get any relief unless it came from chris.

you waited there, listening to the rustle of his clothes coming off. his hands ran down your body, massaging all the wrong places. he kneaded circles into your thighs, incredibly close to your core. with a loud thwack he smacked you ass before suddenly pushing his cock inside you.

you whined at the sudden roughness, gasping as he immediately set an ungodly pace. lewd moans escaped from your lips as his hips snapped into you relentlessly.

“you never listen to me, angel.” he said between grunts. “should just let you wait it out.”

“n-no!” you cried, not wanting him to stop. he wrapped his hand around your hips, pinning you down completely. “please, chris.”

somehow, he sped up. he adjusted his angle, going even deeper into your cervix, making you moan louder. “m’close” you muttered through moans.

“yeah? gonna cum?” he teased, bringing a hand down to your clit to rub circles into it. “c’mon, cum for me.”

that was all you needed, immediately releasing around his cock. he rode you through it, knowing you would still want more. he flipped you onto your back and moved your legs so they were resting on his shoulders.

with no warning, his mouth connected to your clit. you were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so the sensation made you shutter momentarily before turning into pleasure. he ravenously ate you out, sucking and licking all the right places.

“so wet, princess.” he spoke into your core. “that chocolate s’got you so needy for me.”

the vibrations of his voice sent shocks up your spine. he gripped your hips, rubbing circles into your hipbones with his thumbs. the combination of sensations made you somewhat woozy, completely lost in the feeling.

“goin dumb already?” chris teased, speeding up his actions. the knot in your stomach tightened as he sucked on your clit. your legs trembled while your hips bucked into his mouth. you let go, cumming on his face with a loud series of whimpers.

he unhooked your legs from his shoulders, setting your hips down on the bed. he dipped his fingers down to your pussy, collecting some of your release to bring to your mouth like a treat.

“you still want more?” he asked. you nodded in response, still sucking on his fingers. “good, cause we’re not done yet.”

his words excited you, making you impossibly wetter. he tugged you down to the edge of the bed and flipped you on your stomach so your ass was hanging off the bed. chris stood behind you, kneading your ass. you felt his tip nudge against your entrance for the second time tonight.

this time, he slowly pushed in, making you whine in desperation. every inch felt like a reward until he finally bottomed out, his pelvis resting against your ass.

“please move, chris.” you whined, looking up at him through glassy eyes. he smirked, completely amused by your neediness.

he took advantage of it, wanting to hear you beg. “tell me how much you want it.”

embarrassment took over your nervous system, showing up on your face through rosy cheeks. you whined, shaking your head in defiance.

“nuh-uh.” chris said above you, punctuating his words with a smack across your ass. “go on. or we’ll stop and you don’t get to cum.”

his threat encouraged you to get over the embarrassment, saying, “i want it so bad. please fuck me, chris. please.”

now satisfied, chris started to slowly thrust. “good girl. so pretty when you’re all needy under me.”

the new position had him incredibly deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix. he started to pick up the pace, making breathy moans escape from your lips.

“you like this, huh?” he said, now swiftly snapping his hips into yours. “you like being all ruined like a slut?”

you bit your lip, trying to hide the way his words made your stomach flutter. he flipped you over, never pulling out.

he noticed a little bulge in your stomach where his cock was. he pushed down on it, making both of you grunt at the pleasure. “so-mmph, deep, chris”

the feeling of him pushing down on your stomach made the pleasure amplify, causing you to squeeze around him. he grunted at the feeling, hips stuttering.

“keep doing that, angel. gonna make me cum.”

your third orgasm ripped through you, wrecking you completely. you struggled against the restraints, trembling under him. with a few last thrusts, chris collapsed onto, thick ropes of cum spurting into you. he buried his face in your neck, listening to your panting.

he kissed your neck, sucking little hickeys into the skin as he pulled out. you softly hissed at the sensation.

chris pulled you into his arms to help you sit up. once you were upright he reached behind you to untie the belt.

“did so good f’me.” he said, patting your hair. “stay here, i’ll be back.” he walked away to his bathroom, coming back with a washcloth.

he stared at the sight of his cum leaking out of you in admiration. before cleaning you up, he took out his phone to take a picture of the sight. “christopher!”

“just too pretty, babe.” he giggled, setting his phone aside. he brought the cloth to your pussy, cleaning up the remnants of yours and his orgasms.

once he had finished cleaning you up and dressed you in one of his shirts and a new pair of panties, he ran upstairs to grab you both some water.

when he returned, his face was struck with panic. “we have a problem.”

“what?”

“you left the chocolate out, matt ate a piece.”

“oh god.”

cookie divider by @bernardsbendystraws

lol i didn’t know how to end this one. had to make it up to you guys bc i ghosted tumblr for like a week. oops!

anyways, i’m gonna figure out a better way to make my taglist so if you’re already on it or want to be on it, visit my profile to be put on the new one.

with much love, rae 💕

taglist: taglist!! @babyt0matoes @courta13 @chrismattnick @sneezytime @lyingonchris @riggysworld

[noaanotfound]

RUN AWAY

pairing: Sae-Byeok x reader

warnings: nsfw, dom!sae-byeok, sub!reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering, scissoring…

synopsis: every time you try to talk seriously with Sae-Byeok, she turns her back and walks out the door, running away from you. But you’re tired, and you decided it was enough. On the other hand, she realized she needed to change things too.

content: angsty smut

wc: 2.5k

a/n: y’all, hope this is good because it is my first time writing smut. Anyways, everything becomes better if you add a little angst in it, that’s my secret ingredient

“Sae-Byeok, can you listen to me for a damn second?” She was still leaning against the wall with her hands in her jacket pockets, looking at the floor with a blank expression. “Please, that’s all I’m asking”

You saw a little twitch on her lips, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. But you were already tired.

Fifteen minutes had already passed since you started trying to make her understand that you want to make the best relationship possible out of both of you. But she didn’t say anything, she just stared at the floor. You couldn’t even read her expression.

It was frustrating. And because of that, your eyes were holding back tears.

“I know you’re scared and I know this is hard for you, but… fuck, you’re making it even harder!” Your voice elevated. “I’m trying, I’ve been trying this whole time but I just can’t anymore. I need something to hold on to and I can’t find it. I don’t believe that you love me, Sae-Byeok. Not anymore”

Your voice cracked, and those final words finally made Sae-Byeok lift her head and look at you.

“That’s not true” Her tone was cold, like always, but serious.

“Then show it!” A tear fell from your eye. “Every time I tell you I love you, your body tenses. I feel it, and you can’t even say anything. When we’re with more people we don’t even look as a couple because you don’t do anything to make it look like we are, because we fucking do! I’ve been trying to help you, to help you trust in me, but you don’t want to. I’m always the one crying. What else do you want me to do?”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to cry more. You’d be ashamed of yourself if you did.

“Tell me. What do you want me to do?” Now, you sounded desperate, desperate to make this work.

Sae-Byeok sighed, frustrated, and ran her hand through her hair. She shook her head, more to herself than to you, and grabbed the keys, heading to the door.

Your arms fell to your sides automatically, your mouth slightly opened. You felt pure disappointment. When she took the first step outside the door you ran close to her.

“Are you really going to run away, again!? Is that all you have to say?” She stopped on her feet. You waited a few seconds, giving her a last opportunity to talk. “Alright. That's how it is”

You saw Sae-Byeok’s shoulders rose and fell since she sighed. “I can't. I'm sorry”

And, just like that, she left.

She left every time you had a ‘discussion’ with her or wanted to talk about something serious. She still had those walls she built for her whole life. You knew it was difficult to break them, but she wasn't doing any effort either and that was hurting you.

You were starting to understand that you couldn't let yourself get hurt for the good of someone else. Sae-Byeok does have some actions that are meaningful to you, like when she buys something very random that reminds her about you, or any physical contact. But that didn't happen often.

You didn't deserve it. And the worst part is that Sae-Byeok knows. That's why she always runs, because she thinks you deserve more than her, but she can’t let you go on the other hand.

You slowly close the door, like it would make Sae-Byeok come back, but you know she wasn’t. This time, you didn’t follow her.

Your steps to the dorm were lazy, automatic, like you were walking because you had to and not because you wanted to.

When you entered the room, you sat on the edge of your bed, yours and Sae-Byeok’s. You wished she was next to you so that things could be easier. Maybe if you tried to sleep you’d dream with her. You didn’t know if it would be worse that way.

But you couldn’t sleep. As soon as your body touched the bed, you let it all out. Tears fell like a cascade and you couldn’t stop them. You were crying for all the times you didn’t.

Now, Sae-Byeok leaving felt realest than ever.

Sae-Byeok still had her hands inside her pockets while walking. The streets were empty, only lit up with the streetlights.

Every time she needed to think, she went out to take a walk. That was the only time her mind could be alone. She started thinking about how bad she thought she was being with you, how cruel.

She loves you, she really does. But that’s what scares her the most.

Because, what if you leave her one day, what would she do? If she kept on with this, there won’t be turning back. So, was it better to escape before something happened?

But at the same time, you were the best thing that’s ever happened to her. You gave her calm between the storm that her mind was. You felt like home to her. Could she really leave you like that?

Fuck it, she needed to be with you. This couldn’t be the last night you slept together, the last kiss she gave you, or the last touch. She couldn’t even think about it. She needed to make it work somehow, at least, needed to try.

So she turned on her feet, walking to her home. To you.

You heard the keys, followed by the sound that made the door open. You didn’t want to go, but your feet betrayed you. You followed the direction of the noise, and stopped on your feet when you saw Sae-Byeok standing in front of the door.

The door was already closed, so she didn’t want to leave again, right?

But you decided to be brave and to think about yourself for once. You didn’t even think about the words you were going to use. Your girlfriend noticed the redness of your eyes, which only made her feel worse.

“Sae, I can’t do this anym…”

You were interrupted by Sae-Byeok. She took a deep breath and walked towards you, only to grab your face and suddenly kiss you.

The kiss felt desperate, full of the words she wanted to say but couldn’t. You automatically responded to the kiss. Her touch was soft, even if her breathing was heavy and fast.

She tilted her head to the side, deepening the kiss while you hugged her by the neck. She separated from you and took a couple of seconds to look at you, really look at you. She thought of how she left you alone crying on the bed, how she made you want to end what you two had.

“I’m sorry” She said it so low that you almost didn’t understand her, but the tone of her voice expressed something truthful.

“Sae, I really want this to work, but…”

“I love you” She shook a little bit her hands on your face and lowered her eyebrows, hoping you believed her.

That was the first time she said those words. How on earth could two words make you completely shocked? You knew she couldn’t lie to you about this.

You didn’t know what to say, so you pulled her closer again and crushed your lips to hers for the second time that night.

You felt how her touch got more secure, now that she knew you believed her.

She lowered her hands from your cheeks to the upper part of your legs, pushing you up and making you put your legs around her waist. You didn’t separate from the kiss, not until she made you sit on the kitchen counter. You put one hand on her chest.

“Sae-Byeok, here?” The use of her full name meant how surprised you were.

She smiled to the side, that damn smile that had always driven you crazy. She pushed your knees apart, making a space for her between your legs to put her lips on the side of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and probably some marks you’d see when you wake up.

She noticed how you started sighing too much, so she grabbed the lower part of your shirt. “Can I?” She asked, since she wanted to know that you really wanted this after that discussion.

“Please” You replied, and that sounded like the angels talking to her.

She lifted your shirt slowly, admiring every bit of your skin that was getting revealed. When she got rid of it completely she threw it to the floor, not caring about where it would land.

You weren’t wearing a bra, so the cold got to your chest. It gave you chills. She looked at your eyes, again.

“You’re beautiful” And then she got closer to your nipples, licking around it and plating with the other with her hand. You didn’t remember her touch to feel this good.

“God, Sae…”

Those words only made her go faster until she felt your nipples harden under her tongue. When you saw her separate from your chest, you took her chin and made her lift her head, only to kiss her again.

But this time, you grabbed her crop top and started lifting it up while savoring her mouth. She helped you take it off, showing her white sports bra.

You took a look at it that was longer than expected and she noticed it. She immediately started lowering your pants, exposing your underwear. That one she bought you on a special trip. It made her smile.

“You really know how to turn me on, huh?” She whispered to your ear while touching your wetness above the underwear.

A little moan escaped your mouth, a signal for her to put your underwear to a side. When you felt her finger touch your folds, another moan came out, which made you lift your head more.

“Please, Sae”

“Please, what?” You knew she liked to tease you like that.

“Touch me”

Your wishes, her commands. She got rid of your underwear and lowered herself to her knees, pushing your thighs to the side. Even she couldn’t wait any longer.

You felt her tongue drawing circles on your clit, and it made you arch your back. Your hand reached down to your stomach, where Sae-Byeok held it.

Because that's how Sae-Byeok was: caring, even during this situation. When she kept her movements on your sensitive spot, you pressed your hand harder to hers and put your free hand on the back of her head, which only made her go faster.

You swore you heard a noise coming from her mouth when you did that. She separated millimeters for you, only to give a kiss to your clit and slid a finger inside you, slow, teasing.

A moan got caught in your mouth. You tried to talk between breaths.

“More”

That single word made Sae-Byeok smile, you felt it, like always. She did exactly what you asked for, put another finger inside your entrance.

She curled them just the exact angle that always made you get lost in your senses, and she knew it. She did it on purpose.

“Oh, fuck, Sae-Byeok…” Those words came out very breathy, since you almost couldn't talk.

Hearing you moan her name out loud made something click inside her head, so she came back again, drawing circles and pressing some kisses on the sides of your thighs.

You supported yourself by pressing on the edge of the counter with one hand, while the other one was still holding Sae-Byeok’s. Your body was starting to shake already, and she felt it.

“Let it out” She drew circles on your hand, softly.

Listening to her whispering that in between your thighs was like a button that was being pressed for your body. You let out a shaky moan followed by your fluids, which were cleaned by Sae-Byeok in a second.

You looked at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath again and make it have a normal pace while your girlfriend was getting up from the ground.

She put a hand on the side of your face, caressing your cheek. “Was that good?”

You laughed. “How can you even ask after doing this? Of course it was”

Sae-Byeok smiled and kissed your lips again, with her hand on your waist. Then, you felt her lift you up again.

She saw your surprised face. “Did you think we were already finished?”

You wanted to say something, but words didn't come out of your mouth. So you just smiled and kissed her for a long time while she was taking you to your shared bedroom.

As soon as her knees met the edge of the bed she let you fall on it, making sure you didn't get hurt and she crawled up on you, with her legs at the sides of your waist.

She got rid of both her pants and underwear in one fast movement. You looked like you were carefully studying her movements, trying to think about what she'd do next.

You were looking at every exact detail of her face and body: how her hair stuck to her sides, the way she unconsciously bit her lip when she was focused and the little moles on her shoulders.

She was the woman of your life.

And you were hers.

She separated more your legs and re-positioned herself, supporting herself with her knee on one side and putting a hand on yours on the other.

You already knew what she was going to do, and your accelerated breaths spoke for themselves.

Sae-Byeok lowered herself, meeting your spot with hers, moving her hip to the front and to the back, slowly at first. She started sighing while your moans filled the room.

“I swear you drive me crazy” She said, while her movements became faster.

You were going to say something, but your moans interrupted you for the millionth time that night. You tried to put your arm on your mouth to silence yourself a little bit, but Sae-Byeok was faster.

She caught your arm and shook her head, never stopping her movements. “Don't. I want to hear you”

And then, she lowered herself on your stomach to press her lips to yours in a tender and desperate kiss.

When she separated from you, she kept her forehead pressed to yours, making both her sounds and yours mix together.

At one point, you started moving too, which only caused Sae-Byeok to lose her mind more. You looked at her with a question that she perfectly knew about on your face. She nodded.

And with that, you came at the same exact time.

She fell on your side, hugging you by the waist and pressing a kiss to your left shoulder. “You're the best thing I have”

The way you said it made you understand that it felt hard to speak like that for her, and you truly appreciated it after everything that had happened.

You smiled, truly smiled, and gave her a peck on the lips. “Promise to never leave my side again?”

“Promise”

a/n: HOW’S EVERYONE FEELING WITH THIS? tell me your opinion!

masterlist: @saebyeoksleftfoot

[lewismcqueen]

written in red. 05

lh44 x reader

04 | masterlist summary: after the listening party, you finally unmask the motorist that's been tailing you all this time. a/n: apologies in advance for the egregious driving maneuvers and unrealistic action sequences...it's about to get real looney tunes in here. who up and wanna get trapped in the eldritch george russell dimension

The album is gorgeous. ‘Lush’ would be the word you’d use to describe it. All sprawling instrumentals and beautiful strings that wash over you and make you want to stay. To let it keep you underwater. But your hands are still trembling from the headline, and you need to come up for air.

You feel a cool hand—no, a gloved hand—brush your arm gently when you stand up to leave. Eight tilts his head and you imagine a quizzical look beneath it. 

“I gotta go,” you smile apologetically. 

You can detect a smile around his words. “Music’s that bad, huh?”

Managing to force out a friendly chuckle, you reassure him, “The album’s beautiful, no worries. It’s just…something came up. Good luck to you, again.”

“Hm,” is the only sound Eight makes. He doesn’t move - not to indicate a reaction, or even to escort you out. He just sits there, and stares. “Smoke’s pretty bad for your lungs, you know.”

Your brows knit together, unsure of what he’s referring to until you remember seeing a few folks with cigarettes outside of the venue earlier. He probably thinks you’re taking a smoke break.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  With a curt nod and a tight smile, you spin on your heel and weave through the cluster of tables in search of the back exit, feeling eyes on you the whole way through. 

-

You don’t realize how tightly you’re clutching the steering wheel until your knuckles start to ache. The veins in your eyes make your vision pulsate as your heart hammers away in your chest. With a deep, shaky breath, you check the rearview mirror, and your stomach drops.

There he is. That flash of silver, helmet down as if determined to catch you.

It is right then and there that you decide you’re fed up. You’re sure as hell not gonna lead this guy back to your apartment, and your Toyota is—technically—larger and more dangerous than his. So, you check for oncoming traffic, eye the next lane…

And make the U-turn of your life.

It almost brings you joy to see the frantic turning of the motorist’s head as he realizes that the hunted has become the hunter. He speeds away, but it’s not enough. You have too many questions to just let this guy go. Your heel hits the gas, and traffic lights turn into streaks as you gain on him. 

In a sudden, desperate move, the motorist tries to swerve onto another street only to lose his balance. The wobble and subsequent tipping over of his motorcycle seems to happen in slow motion before you register the fact that he is scrambling to his feet. You pull over right behind him, your headlights making the silver paint glow in the night.

You don't think you've ever exited your car so fast in your entire life.

You're lucky that your heels are low, because you run as if possessed, heels hitting the pavement with very angry clicks as you chase the man down. He's surprisingly slow - or maybe your years of running track in high school have made you fast, because you're getting much closer now. Within grabbing distance. 

With nothing else on your mind but killer instinct, you decide to just go for it. 

The man yelps almost comically as you tackle him to the ground. His jacketed arms flail around, but you straddle him before he can make an attempt to get back on his feet. After a few moments of struggle, you manage to pin one arm behind his back.

He splutters, “Alright! Yield, yield! It is enough!”

Still heaving and out of breath, you manage to rasp, “Who the fuck are you? You been stalking me, huh? Tracking my every move? Talk!”

The man replies through clenched teeth, his voice equally as rough, and slightly accented. 

“What do you think? Get off of me!”

“Not until I've seen your face, asshole.”

After waiting a moment until the guy feels like he's mostly given up, you remove your vice grip on his arm to grasp his helmet. It comes off, much to the audible dismay of your…suspect? Hostage? You'll figure out what to do with him later.

Beneath the helmet is a mop of dark hair, some of it plastered to his forehead with sweat. Indents on ivory skin flushed red. His eyes are squeezed shut, but you notice long, thick lashes sticking out from every direction. In his cheeks there are dimples that would be better suited for smiling, but are instead shown through a grimace. He'd be cute if he hadn't been terrorizing you for the past few months.

“Name. Now,” you demand in the most authoritative voice you can muster. 

“Ton mère!” He retorts. “I don't have to tell you shit!”

“Then I guess we'll both just stay here. I got all night, Frenchie.”

“Fuck off, how about that?”

The adrenaline soon dies down, and reason starts to creep in. You’re out in the open, and several innocent passersby have likely just seen you run down and tackle a stranger. On instinct, your head snaps up and swivels around.

Identical, white houses with neat roofs and neat lawns stare smugly back at you. Your heart just about drops to your ass. This was not where you remember making a turn, but somehow, your car is right behind you along with the man's motorcycle. 

Beneath you, the man starts chuckling, but it sounds humorless. You think you hear him mutter “of course” underneath his breath. Just then, you hear the low rumble of another car pull up. It's quiet, almost smooth as you’re blinded by a pair of headlights. You lift a hand to shield your face. The car is all black, sleek. Probably expensive.

You hear the door opening and closing as a tall figure steps out and is illuminated by your still-running car. A chill runs down your spine. The guy doesn't even squint. Icy blue eyes evaluate the scene until they land on you. He grins, as if he's meeting an old friend.

“Well, then. What have we got here?”

[vviolets444rroses]

— muscle memory (ex!rafe)

cw: alcohol use/intoxication, drug mention (weed), emotional tension, exes, some angst, toxic dynamics (implied)

a/n: this took forever to write- ONLY BECAUSE i had to make sure i had other parts too heheh.. but i hope you guys like this! please like/rb so i can continue to do more of this <3 kisses!

a bonfire at the boneyard— kooks, pogues, and tourons. you sit beside your friends as they all get drunk off their asses. you’re sober and clinging to yourself, wrapped in a hoodie you’d forgotten wasn’t even yours, and jean shorts— your chosen attire no longer fitting for the night’s weather. you’ve zoned out, your gaze fading into the flames of the fire, now locked onto a figure on the other side.

across from you, kooks are passing around a blunt and laughing, just high out of their minds. but that’s not what you’re looking at. it’s who. your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, just as intoxicated as the others. he stares through you, like you’re not there. like you’re nothing.

at least, that’s what it feels like. you saunter off on your own to sit by the waves— just far enough to be on dry sand, but feet in the retreating ocean water. your phone dings. opening it, you see a familiar number. it had been deleted months ago, but your mind can’t seem to forget it.

wjat r u doinb u wearin my hodie?? knwoin i’d be hre n stil missjng uuuu ur smethin els idkkk bsby

it's rafe... drunk and spamming your phone. he knows he’s your weakness. who could blame you? you two were in love— until it felt like you didn’t belong.

is tht u byy the wateerrr?? immmm comin ovr ther babyyy fruck u lookk beautifullLLL

of course he is. you hear sand kicking around and drunk laughter— his laughter. you turn your head, knees tight against your chest, watching him slump toward you.

“there’s my girl,” he yells out. he finally makes his way and slaps down beside you, leaning into your body.

“jeez, rafe. what’s wrong with you?” you hold him up, straightening him out.

“me? nothing!” he cackles. “ah… except i miss you… heyyyy. you still wear the perfume i got you?” he leans his face into your neck, getting a better whiff of it.

you sigh. he’s so damn drunk. you can’t really do anything, or else he might react badly. you fold, comforting him and keeping him close. but it's not like it took a lot of convincing yourself, right?

“hey, hey. let’s go. wanna go home? need me to take you?”

“but my bike!” he hollers, your hand smacks over his mouth to shut him up. he sticks his tongue out, wetting your palm.

“rafe!” you shake your hand and wipe it on his sleeve. he just hyena-laughs in your face.

“we can get your bike in the morning. let’s go,” you drag him up by his arms, but it’s impossible to do at all. he’s always so bulky with all the protein powder and creatine he inhales like it’s his life support.

“alright, i cannot drag you. up and at ’em. we’ll go to my car.”

the two of you slog through the sand and eventually make it to your car. rafe presses against the passenger door. “must’ve missed me soo bad if y’taking me home.” he cackles and pulls you into him by your hips with cold hands, almost magnetic.

“dude— rafe, stop it. i’m trying to help you.” pushing off him, you click the car unlocked, swing the door open, and push him into the passenger seat.

“buckle up,” you mutter as your patience wears thin at his childish drunkenness.

“buckle up,” he mocks. “like a fucking mom.”

slamming his door, you walk around the front and get into the driver’s side, buckling in and starting the car.

“you’re fine going home?”

he mumbles a quiet yes.

“alriiighty.”

after a few minutes of driving, his hand reaches across the console and finds yours— fingers clumsy at first, but certain. he laces them with yours like it's the most natural thing in the world, and his thumb starts tracing soft, slow lines across the back of your hand.

your lips part— halfway to tell him to stop, to remind him this isn’t what you do anymore. but the words don’t come.

because it doesn’t feel like a mistake.

it feels like routine. like second nature. like something your physical being missed before your mind even realized.

maybe it’s the way his touch is gentle, or the fact that he doesn’t even seem aware he’s doing it. maybe it’s how the movement is more muscle memory than anything else. how it calms you instead of starting something. no pressure. just presence.

so you don’t pull away. you let it happen.

you drive with one hand, eyes on the road, heart somewhere else— somewhere softer. and his thumb keeps moving, slow and quiet.

you park in front of his house and leave the engine running for a second longer than needed. his thumb is still tracing lazily on your hand like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. or maybe he does. that’s the thing with rafe— you never really know.

“mmkay, come on.” you gently slip your hand from his and unbuckle his seatbelt. he doesn’t move.

“we are home?” he says like a question, blinking slowly.

“yes. now get out of the car before i leave you.”

you get out first and walk around the car, opening his door and crouching a little.

“rafe. up.”

he groans like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, then stumbles as he swings his legs out. you catch him—barely—then sling his arm over your shoulder.

“jesus, you’re heavy.”

“mmm. muscle,” he hums, grinning into your hair as you both half-drag, half-walk up the front path. “you used to like it, remember?”

you don’t say anything. just keep your eyes ahead and focus on getting him to the door without falling over.

you fish his keys from his back pocket, then unlock the house, pushing the door inward with your hip. you pull him inside as he puts most of his weight onto your body and his boots thud heavily against the tiles. he’s so fucking close you can smell his cologne— the one you always loved on him. faint and distant, like the memory of when you were still sworn to him.

you help him kick his boots off and move them aside to the shoe corner.

“where’s your room again?” you tease lightly, trying to keep the mood easy.

“oh, you know where it is,” he laughs softly and swigs his head back.

you do. unfortunately.

he’s still hanging on you, head heavy on your shoulder now.

“you good?” you ask, catching your breath. “or are you gonna collapse here?”

“mmm,” he hums, “you staying?”

you freeze for a beat but keep walking, dragging him through the foyer toward the stairs.

“uhh… we’ll see. you’re gonna feel like hell in the morning,” you mutter.

“worth it,” he mumbles. “i got to see you tonight.”

you ignore that— mostly.

the silence that follows is heavy. he lets you lug him up the stairs, his hand still glued to yours— but neither of you says a word about it.

[goodboy-connoisseur]

Wedding Night (Deuce Spade x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Post NRC, Aged up characters, Sweet loving sex that gets rough eventually, mentions of starting a family, Deuce is territorial when it comes to his wifey, Reader is not Yuu, Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns and has female parts

A/N: Starting off this series with my first favorite guy in Twisted Wonderland. That damn liongarb was what pulled me into Twst and made me like Deuce a lot.

Also! I don't really enjoy making layouts and all that stuff when writing fics. I just really.. write my fics and post them after re-reading them a few times lmao. Must be an older Tumblr user thing? (Been in this site for more than 15 years now, I think)

LASTLY, ONCE AGAIN, THIS FIC IS NSFW. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUCH THEMES OR ARE UNDERAGED.

As the wedding afterparty finally comes to an end and you two left the reception venue, you could still hear the whooping and loud laughter of your guests. Finally, after exchanging vows and saying I do's in front of your loved ones, you and Deuce were officially husband and wife.

He whisks you away to your honeymoon suite, his heart pounding against his chest as the elevator brings you to your floor. Deuce's fingers idly play with yours as you await, a little smile on your lips present as you look at your husband. He is as happy as you are, and by saying "I do" to him, you have just made him the happiest man alive.

The room smelled like fresh citrus as you opened the door to your suite. The hotel staff truly knew their thing when it comes to setting the mood of their honeymoon suites for the couples that will occupy them.

"Finally.. Alone time at last," He tells you as he rolls his shoulders, hearing them crack a few times before he discards his suit jacket. As you took a seat at the edge of the bed, you can't help but admire your husband's physique. Despite still wearing his dress shirt and a waist coat that matched his wedding suit, they barely hid the muscles he had built over the years after practicing sports and eventually, training to become a police officer.

Unbeknownst to him, you were thinking lewd thoughts about him as he folded his suit carefully, droning on about his friends' shenanigans and speeches during the reception earlier. You squeeze your thighs as you remembered the last time you two had been intimate with each other. It was exactly a week before the wedding, and he had insisted that you don't do it until your wedding night so you'd have more things to look forward to. So you fucked as much as you can that night, sweaty bodies pressed against each other as you drew out as much orgasms as you could until you were satisfied and practically collapsed on your bed after.

Oh how you missed him and his body.

"You know what? I think you should also start getting me out of this dress," You tell him to catch his attention. Deuce immediately stops and turns to look at you, a blush on his cheeks, though the eagerness in his eyes were not unnoticeable. He comes over to where you are seated, kneeling right in front of you as you spread your legs before him. Deuce's strong arms trap you there, his gaze intense as he fixes it with yours.

"I've been dreaming of you," He admits, while his hand moves to hold your hip, feeling the shape through the fabric of your wedding dress. There was something soft about the way he says those words, despite the hungry look in his eyes.

"It's been a while. And I can't help but imagine what you would look like for me tonight." It really was cute to see him admitting all this, eyes full of need yet he was blushing as if it was your first time doing this. You lean down to press a kiss on his lips, smiling as he lets out a soft moan, giving him just enough for a preview before pulling away. He was so eager to deepen the kiss you were sharing that he chased your lips, which makes you giggle.

"Alright, come here." You tug on his tie, making him tumble down on the bed with you. He was now on top of you, staring at you with awe in his eyes. In his head, he couldn't help but think about how lucky he is to have met someone like you, and he was even luckier to know that this woman said yes when he got down on one knee and eventually, exchanged vows and said 'I do' to him.

To your surprise, he suddenly leans down to hug you tight, his face against your chest as he squeezes you (though not too hard that you would have a hard time breathing). You smiled, running your fingers through his soft hair as you felt the same happiness he was feeling right now.

He was yours, just as much as you are his.

"A little sentimental tonight, are we?" You tease him and, in response, he raises his head, eyes full of love, despite his cute little pout.

"I just really love you so much, you know?" He answers as he gets rid of his tie and unbuttons his shirt. It was your time to blush as his toned body comes to view, unable to look away even though your hands start to get busy as well as you pulled his shirt off him. Your eagerness was affecting him as he lifts you a bit to gain access to the zipper behind your dress, unzipping it enough until he's able to comfortably slip it off of your body.

Immediately, Deuce's lips attaches to your neck, gently kissing and sucking the skin as if marking you. As if the ring on your finger wasn't enough to let everyone know that you are his. You loved it when his territorial side comes out, especially during sex. A small moan slips out of your lips as he nips the skin before pulling back.

"Wrapped up so pretty for me too. I'm the luckiest guy in the world," He comments on the white lace lingerie set you wore under your dress. Seeing them only serves to rile him up as he begins to grind his crotch against your thigh, exhibiting just how much he needs you.

He captures your lips once more as he presses his body against yours, enjoying the feeling of your warmth and your curves as you pulled him tighter to you. Your nails lightly scrapes on his back, while he unclips your bra with practiced ease, and discards them to the pile of clothes at the food of the bed. Deuce bites on your bottom lip gently before giving it a lick. He takes a good look at your body as you slowly become bare for him.

He didn't miss the wet patch forming on your white panties, his thumb curiously rubbing against your clothed cunt which makes you gasp in pleasure. His eyes remain fixed on yours, as if memorizing every moan and expression you make for him. He pecks your lips, groaning against them before he kisses down your body. His fingers move your panties down your legs, calloused fingers immediately finding your wet folds. He feels you squirm against him, his free hand keeping you in place as expresses his love and appreciation for every part of your body. When he reached your breasts, he lavishes them with kisses and eagerly sucks on them, all while his fingers are busily preparing you for his cock, which was already aching and leaking and needy for you.

"D-Deuce," You call to him, repeatedly chanting it as if it's the only thing you knew. Your voice only encourages him as he slips his fingers inside of you, scissoring and rubbing your walls while his thumb also helps with rubbing you to completion. It doesn't even take long before your back is arching off the bed, screaming as you finally came for the first time tonight.

Deuce releases your nipple, but not before giving it a lewd lick as he rises. He pulls his slick fingers out, making you whine at the loss of the delicious stretch he previously filled you with. He licks them clean, making sure that you watch before he finally rids himself of his last article of clothing. You find yourself parting your legs for him, , showing your wet and ready pussy for him despite still catching your breath. He swallows thickly as he wraps his hand around his base, slowly stroking himself and groaning with how painfully hard he already is. He leans down again, lips meeting yours as he carefully lifts one of your leg and wraps it around his waist. His hand gently cups your face while he continues to memorize the taste of you, his tongue mapping every crevice of your mouth before he pulls away and stares into your eyes.

"I love you." You could feel your breaths mingle as he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, eyes intense and voice full of passion and love. Deuce nearly tears up at the thought of finally starting a wonderful life with you as his wife, spending all his mornings waking up to your face, and you being the last one he gazes upon as well before he sleeps in the evening. He swore with his heart and soul that he would always make you happy and keep you safe, along with the family you two have promised to eventually build together. He will be your shield, your protector from any harm and sadness that might come your way, and he will never leave you no matter how hard things might get.

You were his one and only, the one he would do everything for no matter what. Even after death, he will always find you in every lifetime and love you all over again.

"I love you too." Your response to his confession was a soft whisper, a wonderful melody he would never grew tired of. He loved hearing you say those precious words to him, as they serve as a reminder that the love he has is wholeheartedly reciprocated.

He pecks your lips one last time before leading his cock to your entrance, slowly slipping inside of you while you moan at the stretch of his girth. Deuce was just as loud in expressing the feeling of your walls wrapping around him, not holding back on his noises to let you know that you were making him feel good.

With your bodies joined as you consummated your marriage tonight, his half-lidded eyes remain fixed on yours as he buries himself deep within you. His hand finds yours, slipping through your fingers as he gently press them against the sheets. After another exchange of I love you's, he begins his movements. Every pull and thrust of his hips elicit loud whimpers and moans of his name and your repeated declaration of your love for him. Deuce was enjoying every moment of this and every sound you make for him, and he was greedy for more, so his movements become faster and rougher as time goes. His free hand grabs your thigh as he leans closer, the new angle making you cry even louder as he reaches deep within you. His cock throbs inside of you, his release impending and yet he holds it back until you finish first. Deuce always put you first before anything, even when it comes to his duty of pleasuring you. He would always make sure that you came before he would allow himself.

"Mmm.. I-I'm gonna cum.. Deuce!" You tell him, and he was determined to bring you to your peak as his movement continues. He reaches down to rub your clit with his thumb, speeding up the process and before you both knew it, your sweat-slicked bodies were trembling against each other as you both orgasmed nearly just at the same time. Your screams of pleasure harmonizes, like beautiful music to your ears as he fills you up to the brim. He stays in place to keep all his cum within you.

Once the aftershocks of your mind-numbing orgasm has passed, Deuce kisses you once more - deeply, lovingly, passionately - as if you would disappear from his hands if he didn't. You look at his handsome face as you finally catch your breath, smiling lovingly and whispering another I love you to him, which he eagerly returns before he lays next to you, collecting you in his arms. As you listened to the sound of his heart beat, you feel yourself slowly getting lulled to sleep, until he begins talking about having to clean up and making you go to the toilet to pee. You can't help but giggle at how doting and caring your husband is.

After finishing your post-coitus activities, you quickly snuggled back in his arms, finally falling asleep as he cuddles you while he thinks about the things you two would do and the sights you would see for the rest of your honeymoon.

[angelfoodscake]

was randomly motivated to animate tonight

[phagodyke]

I can't believe they made me take 2 weeks of 2 antibiotics for nothing even tho I said I didn't think I needed to take them and now my gut biome is in fucking shambles on top of Still Being In Fucking Pain. what happened to my beautiful iron stomach...... pissed tf off!!!!!!

[maskedbyghost]

cw: manipulation, possessive reader, suggestive language

You told him you didn’t do casual.

You didn’t make it a big deal. You just said it like you meant it, not trying to sound dramatic or emotional about it. Just honest.

“I don’t do casual,” you said, eyes on your drink. “It always ends up messy, and I’m not built for that.”

Simon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s alright,” he said eventually. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

You nodded. No reaction on your face, no shift in tone. “Then we can just be friends.”

He raised an eyebrow like he was trying to figure you out. “You sure?”

You smiled a little. “Yeah. I like hanging out with you. We don’t have to fuck.”

“…Alright,” he said, after a pause. “Friends.”

And that was the start.

Except friends don’t show up to his gym when he’s meeting a girl for a workout date.

Friends don’t slip him a text during his Tinder dinner like,

“you left your hoodie here again. i’m wearing it. smells like you.”

Friends don’t show up to the pub when he’s got plans with someone, all dolled up like you just rolled out of a damn music video, giving his date a once-over and offering a tight smile that says run, babe.

You’d always act surprised when things didn’t work out. “Oh no, she ghosted you? That’s so weird.”

And Simon? He wasn’t completely oblivious. But he was tired, and lonely, and honestly kind of lazy when it came to trying to figure women out, and you were just so easy to be around, so warm and funny and low-maintenance and somehow always around when he needed someone.

So when he started seeing you more than anyone else, it didn’t feel weird. It felt right.

He told himself it was just friendship.

Even when you leaned against him on the couch. Even when you started sleeping over. Even when he started feeling a little sick thinking about you with anyone else.

The night it finally changed, he had just come back from a shit deployment — nothing too dangerous, just long and annoying and cold, and you’d been waiting at his place (with your own key, because somehow that had happened), and you were in his clothes, curled up in his bed with takeout, and when he saw you like that he just… stopped thinking.

“You’re perfect for me,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself.

You blinked, looking up from your phone. “What?”

“I was so fucking stupid,” he muttered, dropping his bag, walking toward you like something magnetic was pulling him in. “I didn’t see it. I don’t know why.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just looked at him for a second, then smiled, slow and easy, like you’d been waiting for him to finally figure it out, like none of it really surprised you, but you were still happy to hear it out loud.

From there, it was easy.

The relationship happened fast. Slipped into place like it had always been there. He’d gone from “I don’t do serious” to leaving his toothbrush at your place, to falling asleep with his face buried in your neck, to holding your hand in public without even realizing he was doing it.

He was happy. Stupidly happy. The kind that made his friends suspicious and his coworkers tease him. The kind that made you look like the hero of some cozy domestic fantasy where nothing ever goes wrong and love is enough.

It wasn’t one big moment. It was a bunch of little ones that slowly added up until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Like how you always just showed up when he had plans, how his phone would buzz with a text from you right before he left for a date. Or how you’d casually mention how certain girls “weren’t his type,” even when he never brought them up to you.

And then one day, while you were going through an old playlist together, you said, “God, I remember this song. I used to listen to it every time I thought about you with someone else.” And you didn’t even blink after saying it.

And the more he thinks about it, the more it starts adding up.

You’d played him. You’d baited him.

And now he’s sitting on the couch, watching you walk into the room in one of his old T-shirts, holding a bowl of snacks, looking like home, and he honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off or bend you over the arm of the sofa and remind you who he is.

You plop into his lap like you do it every day (because you do), nestling in like you’re settling into your rightful throne, and he wraps his arms around your waist automatically, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You know what I realized today?” he asks, voice low.

You hum. “What?”

He tilts his head like he’s thinking it through. “We’re together because you manipulated me.”

You pause for like… half a second. Then?

“Yeah,” you say, nonchalant. “And?”

He squints at you, mouth twitching like he can’t decide if he wants to smile or frown. “You sabotaged every girl I tried to hook up with.”

“I did,” you say, and lean forward to grab the remote. “Most of them were trash anyway.”

“You tricked me into thinking you weren’t interested.”

“Mhm.” You don’t even look at him. “Worked, didn’t it?”

There’s this long silence, and then Simon groans and lets his head fall back on the couch dramatically.

“I should be mad,” he mutters.

“You’re not,” you say, smiling down at him like he’s your prize. “You love me.”

“Fuck, woman,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours. “That turns me on.”

You grin, shifting your weight so you’re straddling him properly, hands sliding up his chest slowly until your fingers curl around the back of his neck. You squeeze—not hard, just enough to make him feel it.

“You belong to me,” you whisper against his ear. “Always have.”

He shivers. Actually shivers.

“…Jesus.”

You kiss his jaw, slow and smug. “Say it.”

“…Yours.”

“Good boy.”

And yeah. He is.

PART 2

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

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[i-smoke-chapstick]

His hips stutter, the rhythm messy now, almost frantic, like he’s trying to fuck the apology into you.

You've been fighting with him all night. Started small- he got blood on the floor. Got worse when he confessed exactly whose blood it was.

A young charming friend of yours. Sweet boy. You hardly knew him, but you knew enough. Enough to share a few drinks with him in the morning. Remmick would find out. He always finds out. You were lucky he didn't turn you the moment he considered you his own. His family. His. His. His.

"Come on, darlin’," he breathes against your ear, voice gravel-thick and cracking at the edges. "You’re not still mad at me, yeah? You can’t be. Not when I’m- mph- deep inside you like this."

He breathes hot in the crook of your neck- marks mottled on your delicate throat. A few puncture marks or two from his leftover anger, when he had you face down in the sheets. Now all that's left is his desperation.

You say nothing. Your nails bite into his shoulder, and the sharp pain only makes him moan, needy and almost pathetic.

“You’re killin’ me here,” he pants. “Won’t even look at me.” He grabs your jaw- rough and insistent, making you face him even though your glare could cut through steel. “Still got that damn attitude. Thought you were over this.” He scoffs, laughs light, like he can't believe what he's hearing. But his voice breaks.

You clench around him, and he groans like it hurts.

“Oh shit, yeah- do that again, I’ll do whatever you want. Beg if I gotta,” he growls, still thrusting hard, but his rhythm’s off, needy now. “Wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, baby. You know that.”

You turn your face away again, and something cracks. Not in his voice- in his ego.

“You’re mine,” he spits, patience worn, pride bruised. “Look, I know I messed up," He grits out. "Yeah, I tore out his pretty little throat, but I’m here, ain’t I? Givin' you everything I got."

He's huffing, gripping you tighter when he remembers just why you two are in this predicament. You feel his claws tangle in your hair, tugging gently. Just to show you he needs you.

"Wanna know the best part?" he murmurs against your neck, lips ghosting along your skin. His voice shifting sweetly to that infuriating 'im-not-mad-just-disappointed' tone. "Got his blood under my fingernails still."

Then- without warning, he slips two fingers between your lips. Forces them in, until you're gagging around the metallic tang and sharp nails.

"Wanna taste?" He adds after the fact, sarcastic. One half bitter, one half pleased with himself.

You moan around them, eyes wide and watering. He’s still fucking you, deep and relentless, watching your face as you suck his fingers like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

His hand slides down to your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist. The angle makes you gasp- he notices.

"Yeah? That feel good?" His lips brush your jaw, trembling. "Still mad, baby? Still hate me?" He growls out. Depraved.

You still don’t answer, but your glare is wiped- eyes rolled back into your skull. Back arched, soft whimpers around his fingers. He observes you, scans you over, and finally loosens his hold just a little.

"Please," he mutters, and it’s real this time- raw, low, like it’s costing him everything to say it. "Please, darlin’. I don’t wanna live in a world where you hate me. Don’t- don’t do that to me."

His pace slows, not stopping, just grinding deep and hard, and his lips press to your neck like a prayer.

"I’m yours, alright? Just say the word. I’ll crawl, beg, bleed. You want me on my knees? Say it. I’ll worship the ground you walk on. Forever." He pleads, hips stuttering as he tries to stop himself from cumming. As he tries to convince you this is for you.

Then, cocky again for half a second, he mutters against your neck- the one condition.

"Long as you keep stayin' with me. Just me. Just like this."

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˖𐙚 Perfect Little Doll.

Short Summary: Tom Riddle is quite laid-back when it comes to you—but under the effect of a Lust Potion, he just takes what he wants—however he wants.

Warnings: 18+ only! consensual non consent. somno, sex under the effect of a lust potion, rough sex, choking, unprotected p in v, sex with little to no prep, creampie

A/N: I got the highest grade possible for my thesis, you get filthy smut! Win-win.

wordcount: 1,2k

“No, stay— stay like this.”

It’s the first thing you hear when you stir awake in the middle of the night. You try to move—but something, or rather someone, is making sure you have no choice but to stay trapped beneath them.

“Please, no—“ panic rises in your chest as you struggle under their weight—but it’s no use.

“Shh. It’s me. Be good and stay still.”

This time, you recognize the voice, and you exhale a shuddering breath, relaxing just slightly.

It’s Tom.

Lying on your front, you don’t get to meet his expression, hell, you don’t even get to fucking ask what he’s doing—

Because you already feel him pressing against your entrance, tip hot and flushed, leaking with need—and with a single, measured thrust, he pushes inside. Deep.

“Fuck—“ you shriek at the sudden, stinging stretch. “Tom, that hurts!”

As you reach behind you, trying to push him away, give you time to adjust, he instantly pins your wrists to your back.

“I know— fuck, I know.” He grumbles, yet shows no intent to stop. Instead, he pulls out, pushing back inside immediately—drawing another sharp gasp from you. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

You don’t know exactly what’s gotten into him. Yes, you both agreed upon this, that he could use you when you were asleep—and that you could tell him to stop whenever you actually wanted to—but never had he been this eager.

“Tom, please—“ you try again, whimpering at the burning, unrelenting stretch. His hand finds its way into your hair, lifting your head slightly just to push you into the pillow beneath you—muffling your whines.

His hips rock forward once more, testing, trying how much you can take.

“You will be quiet and take it, alright? Be a good girl for me?” He mumbles, voice coming out raspy, laced with need. He withdraws then, only halfway this time—

Just to snap his hips forward again, tip harshly ramming against your sensitive cervix—a feeling that has you biting your lips so hard, you taste blood.

“God, Tom!” You yelp, hips involuntarily bucking against his in an attempt to free yourself—but it only results in him slipping deeper, drawing a low groan from the brunette.

Slowly, he starts rolling his hips against yours, still buried deep, brows furrowed, breathing heavily through his slightly parted lips at just how tight you feel around him.

Finally, his hand leaves your hair, allowing you to inhale a deep breath—lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you do. Just a mere second later, it’s wrapped around your neck instead, pushing you down once more.

He’s got you exactly how he likes you—one leg angled to your side, his body trapping yours between him and the bed, fingers pressing into your pulse point, enough to make you feel light-headed. Hips flush with yours, ass pressed against his pelvis—it makes his head spin. He needs to have you, take you—now.

“Slipped me this potion— told me it was for sobering up— fuck, sweetheart, you’re tight.” He groans, a deep, low sound somewhere from the back of his throat, feeling him twitch inside you.

It all comes crashing down onto you. Why he is like this.

They made him drink a Lust Potion.

Judging by the fact that he didn’t even second-guess before downing it—must mean he’s had a decent amount of drinks as well.

All of that, combined with the effects of the potion—turned him into this.

You don’t get to think about the situation for much longer and what you could do to ease the effects—the slow drag of his cock against your walls as he starts thrusting into you efficiently short-circuiting your brain.

He doesn’t ease you into it. After one or two thrusts, he picks up his pace, hips snapping against yours as though it’s the last time he gets to have you.

Tom usually isn’t the most vocal. Yes, he enjoys it—loves it, even—when he can pin you down and fuck you into the mattress until you are begging for him to let you come. But, just like outside of your sacred four walls, he likes to keep his composure—even during the most intimate acts.

In short: he hates losing control.

But now—he’s moaning, whimpering even at how sensitive he is—at how good and warm you feel, wrapped tightly around him.

It’s making your brain fuzzy. Everything about it. How you are slowly loosening up for him, allowing him to increase his pace, how your own arousal makes it even easier for him to thrust deep.

“Taking me so well, sweetheart.” Tom praises, breathless, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the otherwise quiet bedroom. “Like this pussy was fucking made for me, fitting me like a damn glove—“

And at this point you are praying you would survive this.

His thrusts grow rougher, punishing almost, brushing against your cervix with every single snap of his hips. His hand wraps around your throat, cutting off your airflow once more as he feels himself getting close.

“Fuck, darling— going to let me fill you up, hm? Make you nice and full of me?” He grits out, staying pressed flush against you for a second, making you feel all of him—every vein, every ridge—every. single. inch.

You nod as best as you can, clenching down tight around him.

“Please Tom, please fill me up— need it, fuck—“

He groans at that, cursing under his breath.

“Good girl. Such a perfect little doll, all nice and pliant for me—“

It’s not long until his pace falters, hips stuttering against your own—and he groans lowly as he starts spilling deep inside of you, coating your walls with his warm release.

He collapses on top of you—breathing heavily against your neck, chest heaving—and although your mind is still hazy with your own pleasure, your thoughts drift back to what happened before he returned to your home.

Knowing them, you guess it’s Rosier and Mulciber who did it. Probably thought it was hilarious, too.

You aren’t sure if you should feel bad for the fact that you don’t know what Tom would come up with as punishment.

Because hell—they are not the ones who have to put up with him like this.

Meanwhile, Tom is still buried deep, keeping his release right where it belongs—but then, when his breathing returns to normal, he gives you the slightest roll of his hips—

“Said it would take three hours to wear off—“

And you already feel him growing hard again.

Fuck, you are screwed.

“Tom, please—“

He shushes you with a kiss on top of your head.

“No. Stay— need you— need you again.” He rasps, back to thrusting into you, fucking his cum even deeper as he’s back chasing his next climax. And you? You are right there with him, on the precipice of your own orgasm.

Merlin fucking help you.

If he won’t kill them for this, you might just do it yourself.

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