#and I'd let him

[cult-of-the-eye]

Timothy Stoker is just so chewable like going mad from grief?? so relatable. feeling like you're the only one reacting appropriately to an objectively terrible situation??? oh yeah. losing yourself in a quest for revenge??? god that's so bisexual of him

[nahoyasboyfriend]

Sorry guys I need moonjo in a way that only a knife can understand. I need him like I need a broken leg. I need to be the blade that slits his throat. There's violence in devotion & love in pain. The act of killing can be romantic if you put your mind to it.

[nahoyasboyfriend]

I could wax poetry about this fic. This is bringing me back to life. This is what I needed

New chapter!

Fandom: Strangers From Hell (TV) / Hell is Other People (webtoon)

Pairing: Seo Moon-jo x Reader, Seo Moon-jo x You

Synopsis: After the accident last year your life turned upside down. Your career came to mean nothing, you lost all your friends, and your marriage was on the verge of falling apart. And the worst thing about all of it? You didn't care. Ever since that day you ceased to live – you merely existed, counting hours, counting days. Unhappy. Numb.

Until one night in a vacant parking lot you witness a gruesome scene and something shifts in you irreversibly. From the moment you met him you knew you could never go back to who you were.

Tags: Moon-jo is his own warning tbh, stockholm syndrome, corruption, sadomasochism, blood and injury, gore, murder, torture, dubcon, violence, prostheses, referred past trauma, car accidents, cannibalism, afab reader, manipulation, nsfw, darkfic

Status: in progress (let's pray in a karaoke room that the updates will be more or less regular)

Your handbag fell from your hand with a dull thud when he and you locked in eye contact all the way across the parking lot. The mannequin of him came to life with a wave of invigoration that visibly rolled from his knees up to his shoulders, which straightened and squared to you. He began walking, each step shortened by his long legs, as he stalked like a leopard towards you, the prey, which was seemingly too petrified to even attempt escape. With each measured step, the distance between you grew infinitesimal while the well-blacks of his eyes grew infinite.

The man came to stand before you and graced you with a once-over from head to toe, before reaching into his pants pocket for a new vial and filling up another syringe – this one just for you. One of his large gloved hands curled around your neck as his other hand brought the tip of the syringe to the side of it. The tip of the needle, hungry to pierce, swelled with liquid Articaine and dripped a single drop of it onto the collar of your blouse – when the man’s assurance in his actions unexpectedly faltered.

Read it here:

• Chapter 1

• Chapter 2

• Chapter 3

• Chapter 4

• Chapter 5

• Chapter 6

• Chapter 7 >>

[omegawizardposting]

I know it's for the comfort of the mun, but seeing, like, an Alastor blog say, "No racism, homophobia, or transphobia!" is so fucking funny to me. That man would call me a tranny in a heartbeat if I pissed him off enough.

[seldompathic]

Seeing Tails so small again in generations has them questioning how they survived those big ol' eyes

[faeriekit]

War of Succession: dp x dc

"It's simple, really," the Ghost King smirked, the purple bands around his eyes widening as he narrowed his gaze. "You release me from this circle. I give you a promise to never return, and you get an influential hostage from my side. Easy breezy. Can't get any simpler than that."

Diana, Clark, and Bruce shared a look.

On the one hand, a hostage would be a good way to ensure that the threat to stay away from their dimension would actually stick. This particular Ghost King had been known for sweeping through the whole length and breadth of at least one dimension, and leaving only charred wreckage behind. A fight against him would waste precious time and resources that they should be using to solve the problems of the dimension they were already in—

—And based on Constantine's projections, a fight with this monarch would be a fight they might not even win.

Wonder Woman grimaced. Batman and Superman carefully did not do the same.

Wonder Woman was the only combatant who willingly and purposefully executed the occasional opponent; she was the only one the Ghost King seemed to respect in some manner, even if he occasionally pointed wary red eyes at the Bat behind her. Still, Diana faced him head on, eye to eye.

"No harm will come to your hostage, assuming that they do not challenge us. Leaving our custody would become a declaration of hostilities between us. Do you agree to this contract?"

The Ghost King's fanged smile was bloodthirsty. His smugness was palpable.

"Deal. I swear it on my crown."

There was absolutely something up his sleeve. It was too bad that there was no time for Bruce to decipher his motives.

Diana held her bare hand out, expression grim, back straight. The Ghost King leaned down— his green-tinged face was blank as stone, his black-gloved hand broad and wide.

Wonder Woman was unafraid. She took the hand.

One of the presiding JL Dark members hissed; Diana was fairly sure it was Captain Marvel, given his age—

Green swept through Diana like high tide, like a riptide, like waves buffeting her left and right until water was forced into her lungs and tried to sweep her off her feet.

She held fast. Diana was the child of gods and a Leader of her people. Of course she held fast.

...The waters slowly ebbed. Diana blinked green out of her eyes and saw the Ghost King did the same, wincing and cracking his shoulders the way Batman might after a hard battle.

Zatanna, Captain Marvel, and Constantine eased back on the circle beneath the monarch.

—And then the Ghost King was gone.

No light. No smoke. No sound. Just gone.

"...Uh," said Clark. Bruce swiftly shushed him.

A lime green tear ripped its way open where the circle had been drawn only seconds ago. Diana thought she heard some sort of voice shouting, and then a deeper, thicker voice growl back—

—And a teenager was punted straight into the arms of a baffled Captain Marvel. Billy quickly swerved to catch him safely, just as shocked as the teen in his arms was.

The teenager had the same white hair as the Ghost King, a similar Black jumpsuit that bore the same emblem, the same sharp fangs in his gritted teeth...and a smaller, but identically designed, floating black-iron crown. Was he smaller in frame? Absolutely. Was he also clearly terrified at the realization that he was surrounded by foreign combatants?

His eyes were so wide. So green. So scared.

His form flickered as he tried to disappear from sight. Zatanna's preventative spellwork stopped the invisibility from taking hold— and his panic clearly increased as he tried to scrabble up and over Billy's shoulders.

The Ghost King had thrown them his heir. Diana swallowed. Worse, she feared, there was reason to suspect that doing so was more to his benefit than their own.

A battle for succession was rarely bloodless.

Diana did not look forward to this...aftermath.

[sinflowersugar]

This man needs to leave my brain.

“just the tip”

classic “just the tip”, be a dumbass and believe that if you want to LMAO, they’re together if you care idk the logistics of doing just the tip if they’re your s/o and i rlly dc, fem reader MDNI 18+

“just the tip,” he says.

you look at him wide-eyed and wrap your hand around his bicep as you lay back with him settling above you. “really?” you breathe.

“yeah, yeah,” he nods, eager to just be feeling you. his eyes are as bright as yours.

he promises, promises he won’t do anything more and whether he believes himself or not, it’s what he says. and he abides by the rule-set, shallow-fucking you, giving you the sensation of being opened up over and over again, of that little spot just barely inside you being rubbed up against over and over again.

but he can’t hold back that long. he never fucking could, he doesn’t know why he even told you that bullshit ass lie in the beginning. knowing what you feel like all around him sealed this fate before he even uttered those untrue words.

it flashes behind his eyes before he makes any move to intrude inside you. it’s the same thing that flashes behind yours.

it rips out of his chest, something like a cry, a sound of brokenness before he’s shaking his his head and telling you “i can’t, you know i can’t.”

he’s welcome inside you. you knew as well as he did that you were both lying. you spread your legs for him so he settle his body on top of you and feed you inch by inch, and your eyes roll back as you take what you were missing. he moans, a true, honest thing, cause he needed this more than he’s ever needed anything.

now, in the comfortable silence of his room, his sheets cold and wet against your back and his body hot against yours, you laugh. and he does too.

[userarmand]

They are not your concern.

[spacehero-23]

"your first wife didn't seem to hate what i had to offer"

lord.

[konigsblog]

headlocks 'nd könig

; getting fucked in a headlock

tw: headlock, power difference (?) female reader.

simon riley ver...

with one burly arm tightening around your nape, holding your body close to his, the smell of your perfume still lingering on your bare neck. you pant, heavy and lightheaded as könig grinds his muscular, broad hips upwards and against your pretty, tight ass.

“mein herz, don’t you hear yourself? panting like a filthy dog, aren’t you, ja?”

könig adores having complete control and power over you. with your body atop of his, his strong arm holding you close as he fucks and thrusts skywards into you, your thighs supple and spread apart, allowing him to fuck you with ease. the roughness of his hoarse austrian accent has you gasping through tears, two smaller hands grasping at his biceps, attempting to catch your breath as he slams his thick, hot cock into your wet, slick heat, the texture of your gummy walls addictive.

“what is it, little mouse. can’t handle a little’ roughening up, nein?”

könig taunts you for not being able to catch up with him, having more stamina and endurance, while you rest upon his large, brute body, panting and breathless as he knocks the wind from your lungs once again. the impact and force of his broad hips and muscular thighs against yours has you sobbing pathetically, feeling stupid under his harsh gaze, with your lips puffy from weeping and your cheeks sore from being slapped

“take me deeper, little bunny, let me show you how a real man fucks... can’t keep up? then you’ll just have to try, my dear.”

you grip his upper arm, muscles tensing underneath your fingers as he fucks you mercilessly, with his heavy, musky balls pressed against your ass, pounding into you like a mutt in heat.

[bobateatree]

This is exactly the kind of guy who fucks with me because he's bored, let's be real

Thursday, April 25th: Favourite Role

[keferon]

Imagine you got turned into a mech and teleported to the middle of the Quintesson attack on Cybertron. But the catch is - all the characters whose Transformers toys/figures you own are in your squad and they are on your side.

If you have two Megatrons or like three Ratchets you can have all of them. Can't wait to see if someone's squad is just them and their 200 Bumblebees

[1caru]

I did not expect that last post to blow up so hard lol

have a reference sheet for our dear little spooky boy <3

[malavera]

This photoshoot kinda did something to me..

[kimtaegis]

JIN HUGS JIN HUGS! for @jinstronaut ♡

cr. namuspromised, dwellingsouls, 0613data

[sky-is-the-limit]

Kyle "I'm not possessive" Garrick, who would get visibly annoyed, rolling his eyes and all whenever Johnny would give you his jacket or when Simon would make you coffee along with his tea, even with Price going out of his way to walk you to your car because you parked too far away.

Kyle "I'm not possessive" Garrick, who would forget his rank and physically block Price from walking out the door to escort you, "I got this one, sir." scorn dripping from his tone even though he knows that his Captain is only being polite or even arrogantly being sarcastic towards his Lieutenant, "She doesn't like it that way, LT." A clear innuendo hiding behind his words.

Kyle "I'm not possesive" Garrick who would subtly appear in every room you'd step in, always pretending to do something just to be in close proximity to you or perhaps to not let others overstep and steal your attention. "Are you following me, Y/N?" With a smug smirk knowing damn well that it's the other way round.

Kyle "I'm not possesive" Garrick who would fuck you in front of a mirror, his military uniform on and you stripped naked to his mercy ''Made to take my cock-" His words pure heat against the shell of your ear, thrusting his hips faster, his hand moving to grab the base of your throat, fingers settling on your neck like the finest necklace.

“Watch yourself, love. Keep watching me fucking you.'' He'd mumble against your neck before giving your ass a firm smack, trailing his hand up to your jaw to keep your gaze fixed on the man slamming into you with force, keeping one hand on your hip to hold you against him and the other wrapped around your neck to prevent you from shying away from the obscene reflection before you. "Keep your eyes forward, love. This is who you belong to."

"Mine.'' In the midst of every slow, hard, and purposeful thrust that he'd make, this word would escape his mouth, drawing out moans loud enough for anyone within reach to overhear and know.

Kyle "I'm not possesive" Garrick, who would walk into briefing without his hat on, earning weird looks and funny comments from the rest of the team "Lost something on the way, Garrick?" And his reply being you walking in with the hat on, your neck clearly violated by his lips, quietly sitting down because it was either that or him never touching you again. "I believe that's mine" He'd announce nonchalant, before retrieving the hat, his words clearly aimed for something else.