#and boney rough hands.

[feralandnormal]

Nothing makes me wanna go on T more than hearing masculine singing voices, those smooth low notes... you gotta hand em' over sir

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters Hand Headcanons

Pairing: Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Maddie, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Mel x Reader

Tags: fluff, size difference, hand-holding, scars, bruises, hand comparison, cuddles

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I remember there was a post where an artist drew the hands and made some headcanons in their drawings but I don't remember who the artist was. But that was my inspiration for this.

JINX

Long and skinny fingers

Lots of calluses from tinkering with her weapons

A strong grip because of the Shimmer

If looking at her hands in the dark you can see Shimmer running through her veins

Has to constantly be told to be careful when working because she has no concept of safety and has come close to losing more fingers

VI

Her hands are really rough all over

bruises on her knuckles that never seem to heal because she's always fighting

A few bones have been broken over the years and healed haphazardly

Gets the biggest puppy-dog eyes if you take her hands and kiss each finger paying special attention to the bruises

You're the only one she trusts to help her wrap and unwrap her hands every day

CAITLYN

A lot of calluses on her hands, especially her fingers

She's been shooting with a riffle since she was young so the pads of her fingers are tougher than the rest of her hand

The skin on the pads if her fingers is hardened

Likes to wear gloves, which you will say is a shame

Knows you like her hands a lot, but she has a better grip on her guns with the gloves on

MADDIE

Her hands are dusted with little freckles

A bit small, perfect for hand-holding actually

Can crack her knuckles and she doesn't even realize she does it most of the time

Many faded scars from her time growing up and training in Noxus

Refuses to elaborate when you notice how scared her hands are, but if she gets to know you well enough and trusts you she might share a story or two

EKKO

Because he's always working his hands are really rough and even have a few burn marks

There are more than a few broken bones in his hands

Never healed well because he refuses to take Shimmer and it's a bit difficult to find good doctors in Zaun

Habit of tapping his fingers against surfaces, even your arm or back while you cuddle

To keep your relationship on the down-low he often holds your pinkie finger with his

VANDER

His hands are huge compared to yours, you have to use both to hold one of his

The strength he has could crush a man if he tried

Definitely a working man's hands, you can tell he's never skipped a work day in his life

Long faded scratches on his arms and wrists

Still enjoys punching things and has a big punching bag in his room, but he often forgets to wrap his hands, which makes them a bit bloody after

SILCO

For someone in Zaun he takes pretty good care of his hands

Cold compared to yours, like his body temperature isn't quite where it needs to be

Skinny, long fingers but he will paint his nails if you or Jinx ask him to

Takes care of himself so he never has dry hands despite how they look

Always places his hand over yours, it's a protective and possessive habit

SEVIKA

She only has one human hand left but she's reckless with that one too

Always fights so you always help her patch up the bruises and clean the blood

Marks from tearing off scabs or making them bleed again

Usually has a hard grip but softens it for you

Has a few ash burns from her cigarette, she doesn't always move it away in time

VIKTOR

He grew up in Zaun and then threw himself in lab work so he's not the best at taking care of his hands

Skinny, almost boney hands

Has a habit of biting his nails when he's thinking about something

Broke his fingers and wrists more than a few times

You always tell him to wear gloves but he never does, not because he doesn't think he shouldn't but because he doesn't remember

JAYCE

Big, meaty, rough hands, very strong

He always wears gloves when he works, be it the lab or the forge

And yet he still gets that slightly rougher skin, not fully though because he's really careful

Uses hand lotion when he finishes working, it's what makes his skin extra soft

Won't admit that he does it but when you hold hands he's doing math in his head and comparing the hand sizes

MEL

If she didn't tell you then you would have never guessed she grew up in Noxus because her hands are so smooth

Her hands are delicate, with really well manicured nails

Only when you look really close can you see just a few, very tiny cut marks but they're almost completely faded away

Enjoys getting hand massages from you and you complimenting her hands

Tickles you when she runs her nails across your skin

[redr0sewrites]

How would the hsr characters react to an afab!reader obsessed with their hands...

🥀Cw : nsfw, heavy smut, fingering, hand kink, reader is afab

🥀 Pairing(s) : Blade x reader, Kafka x reader, Luocha x reader, Sampo x reader

Blade:

blade's hands are rough, and he has plenty of scars littered across the pale skin

i also think that they're always super cold, and its extra stimulating when his hands are freezing against your warm skin

his hands are deliciously big and veniny as well, and his fingers are long and slender. he knows what to do with them, and his long fingers always reach so deep inside you and curl so well...

while his hands are pale, his knuckles and joints have a slight blush to them and are pinker than the rest of his hand

blade has some callouses on his palms from always handling his sword, along with thin white scars across his knuckles and larger, longer scars on his wrists and lower arms

hes the type to go slow when fingering you as his hands are so large and rough; he would never want to hurt you but his thick fingers feel so damn good inside of your sloppy cunt-

you flinched subconsciously as Blade's hand gently stroked the fluttering lips of your pussy, the freezing temperature of his fingers making you tremble as he teased you. two fingers spread your folds and he stares, mesmerized by the wetness of your dripping cunt. he gently rubs over your slit, so, so close to your fluttering hole. you clench around nothing, bucking upwards as his free hand gently holds your thighs. "be patient", he whispers huskily, "you'll get what you deserve".

Kafka:

kafka's hands are slim and fair with long, nimble fingers and sharp pointed nails. she is big on self care and keeps her hands very well-maintained, she never has any dry skin or cuts and always wears gloves on missions

her naaillllsssssssss

theyre so sharp, and they're always painted a seductive red or pink

she keeps her cuticles well maintained and always trims her nails if they get in the way of her work, but they're definitely long enough to trace and claw your sensitive skin...

kafka often trails her hands down your abdomen towards your core before even touching you, she always giggles when goosebumps rise in the wake of her nails as she scratches thin lines into your trembling stomach

"so sensitive..." Kafka purrs, circling her thumb over your clit in tight circles and watching as you squirm beneath her. "i haven't even gone inside yet and you're already whimpering.. what a slut", Kafka crooned, pressing onto your pearl as she scratched thin lines down your thigh with her free hand. you let out a needy whine, she had been toying with you for what felt like hours, and she had barely touched you. "p-please-" you were silenced by Kafka's fingers in your mouth. her free hand still circled over your twitching, puffy clit, watching as your hips involuntarily humbed against her hand. "hmm, how greedy. you will take what i give you, won't you, bunny?"

Luocha:

luocha takes very good care of his hands, he always has lotion and cream on him and cleans beneath his nails at the end of each day

speaking of his nails, luocha always files his nails and keeps them smooth and short. he does this for both of your sakes', partially for cleanliness and also for your comfort when hes fingering you

he is another one with slender hands, and he has very boney fingers with exaggerated knuckles

i feel like his hands are slightly shaky but still very strong

luocha always fingers you with intensity and the intention of giving you pleasure, and his hands are very skilled

i also think he has a few beauty marks on his hands and wrists that are lovely to admire

"relax," Luocha whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as he curled his fingers inside of you. a needy mewl escaped your lips as you grinded against his skilled fingers, your puffy clit sloppily riding the heel of his hand as your legs trembled. Luocha's other hand came to rest on your inner thigh, gently reopening your legs as your cunt squeezed his fingers. he slipped in a third finger and you sobbed, pretty tears streaming down your cheeks. "Lu- m'close-" you whined, and a grin spread on his face. "go on then, darling, let go f'me".

Sampo:

Sampo's hands are especially nimble and swift, he is a thief after all, and his hands resemble pianists hands

they're very veiny, but each finger is thick and flexible

hes got large palms as well, hes DEF the type to compare hands with you

Sampo has nice nails too, they're a boxy shape and he keeps them short but not super short

like they're trimmed but they have the tiniest bit of length to them just for the sake of fashion

sampo has insanely steady hands, its a good trait to have as a thief and their steadiness applies to sex as well

hes also a major tease, he KNOWS how much you like his hands and will sometimes purposefully tease you by taking his gloves off with his teeth or "innocently" stroking your inner thigh...

"ya really do like this, huh?" Sampo smirked, toying with your cunt and gently running his fingers through your folds to gather your slick on his fingers. "suck," he commanded, bringing the pads of his fingers up to your tongue, watching as your own arousal dripped into your mouth. your lips pursed around his boney fingers and he suddenly pushed them in deeper, making you gag and whine. Sampo snickered, pulling his spit-soaked hand away form your mouth. "y're gonna have to work for it, poor sampo here is so tired, i don't think i can fuck my pretty doll's cunt all alone..." he sneered, bringing his hand down and shoving three fingers into your needy pussy. "now, get off on my fingers on your own, or you're not coming at all tonight".

HEY YALL! finally another hsr post lmao- i promise im working on reqs but i NEEDED to get this out of my brain. hope u enjoyed!!

[bobardo]

how would carmy react if he ever accidentally hurt his girl…like not in a fun sexy way but in a real way…whether it’s genuinely fucking/spanking her too hard or saying something rather mean during sex

oh god i feel like he'd literally burst a blood vessel 😭

tw!! carm hurts his cub (emotionally). allusions to domestic ab*se (carm is a healing boy, all right?) happy ending.

i can see this happening after carmy loses for the first time. like, it sucks to lose for anyone, but this is carmen we’re talking about—the definition of a loser; a boy small and quiet enough to frighten into a corner, terrorize into a blank mind (poor, bruised boy. built a name for himself out of hollow self-confidence and false healing, a persona that crumbles with one (hundred) too many punches).

he walks through the tunnels with his head hung low, eddie’s hand massaging his right shoulder and benny’s soothing his left; nacho in front, his larger form shielding carm’s blotchy face from the inconsiderate paparazzi. y/n trails timidly beside her bear—hurting and erratic.

the locker room is stock-still silent as they file inside. usually, there's hollering and chanting in celebration as soon as they step through the threshold, and after congratulations and hugs (and kisses from his sweet cub), carm heads for the shower to wash away the grime of his brutal victory.

this time, though, there are no congrats to be given.

everyone seems to be walking on powder eggshells, overly tentative and precautionary as they tend to him. any questions they have for him are low and prudent, and any answers he has to offer them are clipped, and slightly cruel—finds it difficult to show kindness when their own is unwarranted, he lost. he failed (and failing does not call for sympathizing but for reprimanding, punishment; not consolation but condemnation).

"jus' fuck off, dude," carmen huffs, shrugging benny's hand of his shoulder. he sighs, drops his palm from figure and turns on his heal to walk out, anxiously twirling his toothpick along his tongue.

he steps next to y/n, where she waits, pretty in pink, like always, with her hands folded in front of her legs, eyes to the floor. he bumps his boney shoulder to hers, "think he needs you." her eyes flit up to meet his, and he gives her a small smile, and look of encouragement. "go get him, tiger," he whispers gently.

famous last words.

everyone silently gets the message and leaves the locker room to give carmen his space; all except his girl, his sweet cub.

"carmy," she utters softly, stepping toward him.

he throws her a look over his shoulder, "not now, cub, i'm... not now."

she frowns—presses still.

"carm," she tries again, sliding a supple palm up the curve of his back.

he jerks away from her touch, "not fuckin' now, y/n!" he keeps his back to her and starts toward the medical bed, blood dripping from his fingertips.

she bristles, but doesn't let him see it. takes a defesive step back, kicks up her chin, and swallows the lump in her throat (she hated it when he yelled, when he bunched himself up and tucked himself away in that corner of his mind, away from everyone, even her, but his protector. she couldn't help him there, couldn't pry him from the clutches of claws).

"please don't speak to me like that, carmen," she says, soft but firm. "i'm your girlfriend, not on payroll."

he snorts as he rips a white towel off the overhead shelf and starts soaking up the blood from his various wounds. he's rough as he scrapes it up and down his battered body, hurtful. y/n longs to reach out and do it for him—delicate and caring, the way he deserves—but keeps her twitching hands at her sides.

"fuckin' act like it," he mutters under his breath.

her eyebrows rise with indignation, "excuse me?"

"i said y'fuckin' act like you're on my payroll, shit!"

y/n's spent a long time trying to learn how to not be sensitive. she came from a household of men—four brothers, all boxers, thanks to her father—but just because she was constantly surrounded by their brutality doesn't mean she ever fully adapted to it. she inherited their tough skin—took the chipped pieces on the gym floor and melded them to her flesh herself, thicker, harder to pierce—but she couldn't bury her very being, no matter how hard she tried; she would always be a sensitive soul.

she exhales a shaky breath, her fingers curling into her palms, nails digging. he didn't mean it, he was just upset with himself.

"watch your damn tone, carmen."

"or what?" he scoffs, whipping around to face her, tossing the bloodied towel to the side. it's the first good look she's gotten at his face since the start of the fight, and it makes her want to scream.

he's got a swollen, bruised left eye and a crooked nose, a swelling jaw and busted lips; battered and bloodied, from his collarbone, scattered all across his torso.

her throat threatens to close up, and carmy's taking a looming step closer to her too fast for her to combat it.

"what the fuck are you gonna do? fuckin' bitch at me like you always do, huh?" she flinches as he gets in her face, stumbling back. "carmy this and carmy that, but s'never fucking good enough, is it? you just get to sit there and look pretty—live in my house, use my fuckin' money—and god fuckin' forbid i ever ask anything of you!" he throws his arms up, exasperated, huffs out a laugh, though it's certainly humorless. "i'd screw those precious fuckin' feelings a'yours, get y'cryin' like the fuckin' crybaby y'are..."

his voice trails off, the fiery blaze in his eye faltering—like he knows he's fucked up—but his face hardens again before she has the chance to decipher it.

there's part of her that wants to hurt him the way he's just hurt her, put up a fuckin' fight and scream at him the way they're both so used it. another part, though—a much stronger part—is too hurt to hurt him; too sad that her bear would take violence and cruelty over the kindness of others because he'd never been taught how.

she looks at him with a broken furrow between her brow—a bitter smile on her lips. her voice is watery as she starts, "i never asked you for any of that. you offered, and i accepted. and my sincerest fucking apologies for being a human, with emotions." she scoffs, let's out her own humorless laugh. she bites her lips to try and stop the river of tears at bay, looks to the side so he won't notice as a tear slips down her red cheek.

carmen exhales a long breath—he went too far. "cub—"

she lifts a dismissive hand, "no, y'know what? it's fine," she sniffs harshly, rubs underneath her eyes to stop the stray tears from slipping. "i'm— i'm gonna give you some space," she utters, turning to find her purse and coat. carmy watches her gathering her things uselessly, stuck. "seems like y'could use it."

she doesn't look back at him as she rushes to the door, and only stops when she feels a large paw grazing the exposed skin of her back.

"y/n," he whispers, wavering, unsure.

she brushes his hand from her figure.

"i'll be at your house," she mumbles, and slips out of the door.

when it slams shut, carmy can't help the chocked sob that works its way up his sore throat. he stumbles backward, trips over his feet and crumbles to his knees. he curls into himself (like the boy in his mind, tucked safely in the corner), wraps his aching arms around his bent legs a cries like the crybaby he'd just accused his girlfriend of being.

his sweet cub.

god, he fucked up. they fight, so much—too much. he knows her mannerisms, has studied the inclinations of her sadness, frustration, irritation, and anger. he can't ever recall being faced with her disappointment, however, her utter hurt.

he fucked up, bad. but he's gonna fix it (has to, or the boy in the corner will never stop shaking with fear, sobbing, wailing—waiting for his protector to return with his cub).

——

it's late when carmen gets home. their home, not his (couldn't call it his, was never his when she's the one who made his house a home). he walks through the door of their penthouse with his hands full—his duffle bag, a bag of take out (from the three michelin star joint down on 39th), a heart-box of chocolates, and a large bouquet of flowers—and his tail tucked between his wobbly legs.

he places her gifts on the kitchen counter when he walks by in passing, groaning in relief as weight is lifted away from his body (he got beat the shit out of—had to if he fuckin' lost).

he walks into their bedroom as quietly as he can, softly kicking the door shut behind him. in their king-sized bed lay his sweet cub, curled up beneath the blankets—chin tucked and knees pulled to her chest—in a baby pink nightie and matching bonnet. he watches the subtle rise and fall of her back, smile fondly.

he shuffles to the foot of the bed and sets his duffle there, then moves around to her side, kneeling before his sleeping beauty.

"cub," he whispers, feather light as he presses stray baby hairs peaking through the band of her bonnet back underneath. "wake up f'me, baby, 've got some grovelin' t'do."

she groans groggily into the sheets as she starts to come to, stretches out like a cat as her tear-clumped, heavy eyes peel open.

"hey, sweet cub," he murmurs. she eyes him blankly through fluttery lashes.

he deserves that.

"i'm sorry, my girl," he sighs heavily, beginning to pet at her blotchy cheek. "i didn't mean it, fuckin' any of it. you don't bitch at me, y'never ask too much of me," he brings his free hand up to cradle her pretty face as tears begin to well in her eyes. "this is your house, your home. my money is yours, more than it's mine—fuckin' spend it all, cub, i don't care," the both huff out a short laugh, his fond, hers snotty. "y'not a crybaby, you're my baby—my girl, my sweet fuckin' cub, and i'm so goddamn sorry i said those things to you, baby."

she sniffles, curls her fingers around his wrists to keep him close. "y'mean it?"

his lips twitch up in a gentle smile, "i mean it, cub; m'so fuckin' sorry, sweetheart."

"good."

she pulls him in by her grip on his wrists, mouth pressing to his.

safe to say he's forgiven (he carries her out to the kitchen—arms clasped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist—and presents her gifts to her for good measure, though. sits her in his lap and feeds her yummy pasta and chocolate with a glass of sangria, one of her go-to drinks, to see that giddy smile.

then eats her out of the kitchen counter, too).

——

a/n: how to make the writing process go faster no glue no borax

not edited/proofread!!

[nottivagos]

syn: "Poor, scared little bunny. You'll never stop running."

wc: 2.3k

tw: dark themes, +18 mdni pls and ty, stalkers, kidnapping, drugging food, manipulation, physical harm, stockholm syndrome, unhealthy relationships, obsession, overall really bad & immoral.

an: i don't really know what to put here. i really enjoyed writing this fic despite the dark aspects to it, and i'm v. thankful for the love for stalker!carlos <3

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

Run, Rabbit, Run. || CS55

Stillness. The only noise came from the droning ticking of the antique clock that sat on the mantelpiece, collecting dust like a chronic hoarder. Wide eyes glued to the window, hawking over the freshness of the green lawn, flurries of colour the flowers in the bed showed because of the spring bloom. It had been a while since you’d seen a flower out in the wild, you thought.

Bunnies are beautiful creatures. They go silent when they want something, or when they get hurt. Maybe that’s why forced hickeys of red and blue blotched your skin, why your hair was dishevelled and unkempt, why your pupils were dilated whilst eyes wide and lifeless as boney hands subconsciously fidgeted with the empty paper cup, ripping it into smaller pieces, as it kept trembling in your grasp.

You couldn’t remember the feeling of glass on your hands, the coolness of the material in your palms, the sensation of a distant memory. Replaced by the roughness of paper rubbing against your fingertips. Carlos said that you could be only trusted with paper. It was safer, he said. You couldn’t be trusted with glass, he said.

His rules became the norm, the changing subtleties in your routines, embedded into the back of your mind. It was as if you'd been re-wired, happily for his own dark pleasure. You didn’t mind. You’d stopped minding a while ago. He loved you, that’s all that mattered. This life was happy. Not like your one before him.

Hell, you didn’t even know anything anymore.

Brain turned to mush, conditioned to not make decisions on its own, your own life like modelling clay in his hands, this domesticated haven you were living all created by his own desire to keep you. Cherish you. Have you. 

Muddled thoughts swam constantly in your mind, causing yourself to be unable to think properly. Shaky intakes of breath following, the shallow rattling of your lungs could be heard in the lifelessness of your lounge area. Eyes continuously glued to the window, watching the people walk in the warm sun, skin slightly reddened from the rays shining down.

Arms hugged your legs as you sat on the couch, like you usually did every day. Sometimes you’d hear the subtle clang or movement from Carlos in another room, but typically it was silent. Solitary in your own home. The typical homely four walls acting like a cold prison cell, reflecting the psychological confusion simmering in your mind.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎— ⟡ — ‎‎‎‎‎‎

It was hard to pinpoint when it had started. The past fear blurred by this fantasy you were living in now, as if Carlos hadn't done all those fucked up things to you. You were the right girl, the one that came into his life at the right time too. Naive, pretty, let down by past partners— the full package of a victim prone to manipulation. 

Carlos was infatuated. Mesmerised by your presence, your beautiful smile, the giggly laughs you produced when he got you a little too drunk (on purpose of course), the way your body complimented the outfits you wore a little too well. He was a creep, a love-drunk freak. 

It was innocent, you thought. A guy actually had an interest in you! He was such a breath of fresh air to the jerks that you’d been with before. He'd even mentioned that, holding you against your words in a heated argument you’d both shared. Using your drunken, emotional words to his advantage when you'd told him all teary-eyed that someone hadn’t cared about you in this way for a long time all those months beforehand. Yes, he was a little older than you, but why did that matter? He obviously acknowledged you for yourself, and you couldn’t help but cling onto that feeling.

It definitely wasn’t odd that Carlos knew when you needed him most. Or, just affection in general. Your mind just took it as him being a caring neighbour, the gifts or little treats just out of generosity and affection. Definitely not an obsession and the messed up yearning that followed. 

He knew your schedule more than you knew it yourself; work, eat, sleep, repeat. Sometimes on the weekends you’d go for a run, probably a New Year’s Resolution, he’d inferred. You’d meet friends occasionally and host at your house, too. He knew when your face lit up at certain foods you loved as you ate them with such raw joy, the way you played some specific songs louder than others when you heard them on the radio— you gave him an inch of your happiness, and he took the whole mile.

You weren’t sure when it fully changed though, when the kind acts became more intense, more horrifying to your friends when they raised their concerns about your new ‘lover’. If you could even call him a lover, to say the least.

Carlos was charismatic, a true gentleman waiting in the wings ready for his time to pounce. It just took time. Time he didn’t want to take, but he knew he had to console the rabbit and gain their trust before making any abrupt movements. Or they’d run away. A risk not worth taking when you were so close to being in his grasp forever. The lengthy process was like you, an innocent bunny timidly chewing on grass, whilst his wolf hid away, contemplating on when to pounce. 

And when he did, he thought it was beautiful. It was so refreshing that you’d complied with such ease. You’d spent the evening together, Carlos innocently offering to cook a meal for you both as he’d witnessed your fatigued body trudge into your home. The thought was kind — well to you, at least — but the motive behind the action was far from it.

All he had to do was slip a few sleeping pills into your food and you were gone! The sight was beautiful to see. His eyes darkening at the realisation that his plan was working ever so smoothly with no interruptions made a little smirk appear on his lips as he watched you ever so intently. The increased drowsiness added to your already underlying tiredness, and you were even a sweetheart for incoherently mumbling that you “could finish your food” when he asked if you needed to rest.

A broken phone now smashed on his dining room table as you finally fell into a deep slumber, it wasn’t as if you’d need that again, that would be living in the past, not in the present with him. And only him. He’d made sure to get you another one, of course, he’d even gone out of his way to contact your parents that you were “going away on a business trip for a few weeks”! Little did your parents know they’d never see their little girl ever again.

The rest you didn’t know. Your head lulled downwards as soft snores followed. Carlos’s large arms came to cradle you, hands clawing underneath your thighs as he rested your snoozing self to his chest. Watching you sleep in his embrace was angelic, a sight he aspired to remember forever and have burned into his dark mind, the car ride to your new life made him giddy with excitement distorted with the acknowledgement that you’d never be out of his grasp. Always his, forever.

His little bunny, so innocent and fragile, that he was going to provide a better life for. Like the wolf of him should. To guard and protect before fully going in for the kill. He’d taken your aspirations for living in “a little quaint cottage in the middle of nowhere” literally. He wanted anything for his girl, and if that would make her happy, he’d happily make it happen for you.

— ⟡ —

Stockholm Syndrome was the best way to explain your reality from then on. You'd developed a little coping mechanism to help ‘count down’ the days until someone came to save you, but in all, you'd just trauma bonded with Carlos instead. You'd come to sympathise with him, this ‘life’ he'd created for you actually painting itself as heaven. A happiness you couldn't describe as your old life faded into nothing. 

The barrages of “you know I love you, right?” and the desperate “don’t leave me please” burnt into your mind. The empowering guilt behind his pathetic pleads entrapped you more than Carlos physically did, and you couldn’t help but feel ashamed of your selfishness for wanting to run away. So you learnt to stay silent. Just like Carlos wanted.

You were so sucked into your thoughts that you didn’t even acknowledge Carlos coming into the room. Your nails hovered in front of your mouth, the nervousness in your stomach churning into acid in your stomach, your cuticles practically begging to be chewed to alleviate the stress and confusion swallowing your thoughts whole.

”Princesa, you’re thinking again,” the thick accent cooed from beside you, cupping the shredded remnants of your once-used cup from your lap, before discarding them on the wooden coffee table beside him. ”Tell me what’s wrong,” his voice was soft; caring, even, but there was definitely an undertone of a command there.

Your eyes followed the voice, daze-like as you met his doe brown gaze. Blinking, your eyes adjusted to the sight, before mumbling whilst still a little disorientated, “Nothing’s wrong. Just.. preoccupied.”

The sigh that followed was gentle, despite it having a bite of annoyance at your lie. “Come here,” he murmured in response, patting his lap with that wolfish smile, “I don’t bite.”

The first thing you learnt whilst being with Carlos. Do as you were told. If he knew what was best for you, it was the best for you. Bunnies were shy little things, they didn’t know what was right, but your wolf did. It didn’t help that you’d been craving the intimacy, which was Carlos’s initial plan, so you complied, your smaller body crawling over to his larger one, perching on his lap like it was second nature.

“Good girl,” he praised, the rumble of his low voice vibrating as you rested your back against his chest. Large hands came to rest on your thighs, the feeling of his calloused palms trapping you in his caged embrace sent bolts of electricity surging through your body.

You’d become so accustomed to the sweet nothings and gentle words that it was like a spark set off in your brain, you following the words like a moth to a flame. Hooked on his every syllable and low delivery, the fear that if you didn’t that he’d become angry. You hated when he was angry; your bunny forced into conformity, silenced and quivering in fear whilst his wolf barked, ready to eat you whole.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right? Would you, mi vida?” he murmured again, pressing hot kisses against your jaw, the pecks causing your skin to burn with a bubbling intensity. “You know I don’t like it when you lie,” he continued, his voice holding a warning tone, you could sense that, “I care about you. There’s no need for you to lie, corazón.”

That mutter against your skin made your throat dry with fear. Wide eyes paced around your surroundings, an uncomfortable lump forming in your throat as you just let him touch you. Calloused fingertips trailed down your sides as burning lips attacked your already bruised nape, leaving even more scorching marks after subtle nips of his teeth onto your skin.

“I’m not lying,” you responded, your voice a breathy whisper as your body shivered whilst Carlos’s lips hovered over your reddened neck, hot breath fanning onto the skin. “I’m fine, honestly,” your mumble followed, trembling hands playing with the hem of your dress nervously.

He sighed again, this time more agitated as he pulled your back flush against his burly chest. “You are lying, nena,” his voice took a more harsh tone, biting back, as you watched his jaw tense subtly.

A pit of dread formed in your stomach. A sickening feeling churned and churned, your skin becoming pale at the sight of his angry state. You didn’t want him to become angry. Not again, not after last time. You’d only just healed from last time, you couldn’t go through that again. And what do pathetic little bunnies do when they’re scared and overwhelmed, unable to think for themselves, you may ask?

They cry.

The waterworks followed. Soft sobs turned into wails as your throat burned with fear, tears falling down your reddened cheeks as your hands pathetically came to wipe them away. Carlos’s eyes softened in that moment, looking down at you with a sympathetic look as you shuffled in his lap, now straddling him whilst clinging onto him.

“I’m sorry—” you hiccupped, sobs breaking your voice “—I thought, I just—” you tried to reason, your brain stopping you from comprehending your own thoughts, “I— I don’t— know—” you continued to sniffle into his chest, as a large hand came to cradle the back of your head gently.

“Oh, nena,” Carlos tutted, chin resting on the top of your head ever so slightly. “Hush, it’s okay,” he cooed, pressing a soft peck against your hair, “Shh. You don’t need to explain it right now.”

“B-but I—”

“But nothing,” his voice was stern, though it held some softness to it. “Just let me hold you, princesa. Please.”

You mustered a nod, another sniffle following as Carlos cradled him to your chest. Heart fluttering at the intimacy in that moment, you nuzzled more into him. You were such a confused little bunny, your little mental breakdown explained that even more, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d got you right where he needed you.

Innocent.

Utterly helpless.

And dependent on his every word and action.

like stalker!carlos? consider sending me an ask in my inbox to be added to the notebook! - notti <3

[ihfmseatsoch]

hi erm do you take requests. and if so can I pretty please get a masc reader raping Jimmy after finding out what happened to Anya fic (I want to tear this disgusting man’s ass up so bad it makes me look stupid)

OHH my gosh anon i understand you so deeply. rape that mans ass to shreds!!!!!!! i hope this is alright :3

–

Jimmy Zare x masc!reader

reader refers to themself as a guy and has a dick

genre: smut, dark fic

word count: 2.8k

warnings/content: rape, you shot jimmy in the legs lol, several mentions of anyas sexual assault, no prep, loss of virginity, (on jimmys end) (literally) hate sex, rough sex, jimmys a little crybaby, death threats

–

"Are you scared, Jim?"

You crouch to ground level with the man– no, calling him a man would imply that he has some sort of humanity left in him. The monster in front of you, both of his kneecaps wounded by the bullets you shot with your own hands, glares at you with pure vitriol.

You've actually tried pretty hard to stay in your new captains good graces these past couple months. Of course, it was only for the sake of self preservation. Who would willingly befriend such an arrogant, self-centered, pessimistic asshole like Jimmy? Besides Curly, for whatever reason.

But it wasn't until Anya, at her wits end and on the verge of yet another mental break, confided in you about her pregnancy, and her assailant; none other than Jimmy fucking Zare.

You couldn't say you were surprised that he lacked basic morality. Maybe morality can no longer apply to the situation you're all stuck in, all of you just trying to survive at whatever cost. Every man for himself, right?

Even so, monsters deserve to be punished. And luckily, Jimmy is still alive to feel whatever you force him to take. Whether it be the insults you hurl at him, or physical torture; like the bullets embedded deep in his muscles, immobilizing him, his autonomy ripped away.

"It doesn't feel good, does it? Not having the option to worm your way out of the mess you've made."

Jimmy gives you he most contemptuous, disgusted look, like you're the evil one here. He let out a frustrated growl, his voice was low and venomous. "You think you're so fuckin', righteous, huh? Acting like you're any better than me." His lips curl downwards in a sneer.

You may not be any more of a good person than he is. You've stooped to his level, after all, resorting to violence. But as the saying goes, you reap what you sow, and Jimmy has yet to pay for anything he's done. All the pain and trauma he's caused, not just to Anya, but dozens of poor women back on Earth. Men like him always get what's coming to them.

"This isn't a morality competition, Jim. We're all only human here. But you..."

Leaning in, you grip his boney jaw, forcing him to look at you, your eyes boring into his. He's terrified, you can tell.

"Honestly, you're less than dog shit."

It was clearly infuriating to him that he didn't have the ability to physically intimidate or overpower you. For once in his life, Jimmy's bravado had been shattered. He was unable to move away, to spit back his usual insults, as he was forced to stare into your cols eyes. You had the upper hand, and he hated it.

He hated being in the same position as the many others he's forced into.

His body tensed with anger as he tried to wrench his jaw out of your grasp, but your fingers dug too harshly into his skin. "Get... Get your goddamn hands off me, you... you–"

"You didn't listen to Anya when she begged you for the same thing. Isn't it ironic, the way karma works?"

The mention of Anya seemed to hit a nerve within him, his blood running cold, frigid through his veins. "I told her to keep her stupid mouth shu– fuck!–" A stabbing pain shot through his legs, causing his face to contort in agony.

Despite the pain and the fear welling up within him, he forced himself to speak through clenched teeth. "Shut... Shut the fuck up. Stop talking like you– like you know anything."

"I know enough. So does Swansea. Curly too, for what it's worth. Even if the useless fucker didn't do anything to reprimand you." You shove Jimmy onto his back, his head hitting the cold steel floor with a dull thud, hard enough to make him woozy for a moment. You can't find any empathy inside of you to care. As far as you're concerned, the creature in front of you isn't a person.

Clicking your tongue at the sight of him, you crawl over to his pathetic, writhing body, hovering above him. "Guess it's up to me to give you what's been comin' to you for a long fucking time, huh?"

Jimmy hissed in pain and tried, in vain, to scoot himself away, but his wounded legs refused to move, and he found himself trapped between you and the floor. For the first time in his life, he was in the position of a powerless victim.

His voice comes out embarrassingly strained and weak, "What're you gonna do, then? Kill me? You think that's the worst thing you could do to me? I've been ready to die. You'd be doin' me a fuckin' favor."

You dig your knee into his groin, putting a painful amount of weight onto him, a sharp cry escaping his lungs. "No. You don't deserve to die, that'd just give you a way out." Your hand reaches up to his neck, squeezing his windpipe just enough to make him struggle to breathe.

"I'm keeping you alive so you can feel every single thing I do to you."

Jimmy clawed uselessly at your hand, frantically trying to pry it away from his throat, the only thing he could manage to do with his legs unable to kick or thrash. "S– Stop–! Ghhkk– Don't–"

"You still think you deserve mercy? That's cute, Jim."

You roughly yank the buttons of his coveralls out of their loops, tearing away the first layer of protection he had between you and him. Not that the uniforms Pony Express gave you acted as a safeguard in the first place.

Jimmy feels exposed, vulnerable in a way he's never experienced before. Suddenly, he's very aware of the fact that he's at your mercy, and he can't do anything to stop you. Fear began to creep in, and he started to hyperventilate, panicked and desperate as he choked out a reply,

"I– I said s– stop, you fucking– I swear, when I can walk again, I'll–" He sputters, his sentence coming out broken and raspy from the pressure on his neck. You let go, only so you can focus on getting him undressed. He intakes a large gasp of air, coughing hoarsely.

"You'll what? What're you gonna do, Jimmy?" You mock him, keeping your tone extra condescending just to rub the humiliation in even more. "I'll tell you how this is gonna go; you're not walking for a good, long while. That's just reality, so get used to it."

You tug at his clothes until, albeit with a lot of struggle and fighting against Jimmy's flailing, his uniform is bunched around his ankles, leaving him in his grey long sleeve and underwear.

"And, while you're incapacitated– You grunt as you tug his boots off, throwing them carelessly aside to make it easier to slip the garment completely off his body.

"I think you can guess what's gonna happen to you."

Jimmy's face pales as the realization of what you plan on doing fully dawns on him. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach, dread sinking into his gut. He can't escape this. "Wait, h– hold on, you can't– We... We can talk this through, just– get off of me–"

"I'm guessing you've never been with a guy before, huh? Nah, you're too... 'macho' for that." You flip him over, a sharp, throbbing pain rushing through his knees as he's forced to put pressure on his wounds to prop himself up. "Might as well give you your first experience before we all die here, yeah?"

Jimmy tries to scramble away from you, but his wounded legs barely move an inch. He cries out in agony, his eyes welling up with tears from the excruciating pain in his joints. He looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes wide, filled with fear.

"No, Wait, stop–! Don't– You can't do this, please, I–" He tried to keep his voice hard and defiant, but terror had seeped into it, causing his words to quiver and falter.

"Oh, I can't, but you can?" You scoff at his ability to still be a raging hypocrite, even in the position he's in. "You think the world bends to your fuckin' will, don't you? Curly sure did. Maybe that's what makes you feel so entitled. You were enabled."

With a swift tug, his fabric is pulled down just enough to expose his ass to you. "Not anymore. Never again."

Jimmy's pride, the only thing he had left, had begun to crumble beneath him.

He's scared.

He prayed for someone, anyone, to intervene in the situation. But the cargo hold was empty, devoid of any soul besides you two. Jimmy choked back a sob, his vision growing blurry with tears. His voice was strained as he pleaded, "P– Please, d– don't do this. I'm... I'm sorry–"

Completely ignoring his incessant pleas at this point, you carelessly fondle his ass, roughly handling what little amount of fat his had on his bones. "Oh, I'm sure." You mumble, your sarcasm audible.

Spreading his cheeks apart, you make a 'tsk' sound at the sight of his tight, untouched virgin asshole. "Sheesh, that's gonna be a tight fit." You speak your thoughts aloud, just to make his face burn redder with utter humiliation. He could vomit right now.

"I swear, I'm gonna fucking kill you." He snarls, voice breaking with the emphasis he put on the word 'kill', his teary eyed glare full of unadulterated disdain and loathing for you. "I'll find a way. I'll find a way to blow your fucking brains out."

He can't even move, and yet he's still trying to get the upper hand, as if he's some kind of cornered dog, snarling and snapping at your heels in defiance to the very end.

"Mhm." You don't take him seriously, knowing that without serious medical attention, which Anya obviously won't be providing, he's essentially screwed, for a lack of a proper description of his situation. You palm your semi-hard dick, stroking the outline of your length through the fabric. You hate this man, you really do, but you can't deny the excitement you feel from giving someone like him a taste of his own medicine.

You can't tell yourself it won't be satisfying to make him feel everything Anya felt, because it will. It will be the most gratifying thing you ever do.

You gather up a wad of spit in your mouth before spitting on his hole, saliva being only available lubricant. It may not be the best, but he doesn't deserve the comfort a proper lube would give him anyway. He physically cringes at the feeling.

"I'm not gonna bother prepping you. That'd be too nice." You considered not even warning him of this, but you liked seeing him scared. You liked seeing the way his breathing picked up in panic, his heart rate bordering on tachycardia.

"Fuck you," he spat with the hostility of a rabid dog. "You're gonna regret this. I won't let you–"

Jimmy's empty threats are interrupted when he feels the head of your dick prodding at his hole, and you chuckle lowly at his shudder. "Shhh. All you've gotta worry about from now on is getting me off."

Before he can even think, you're already pushing yourself inside him. The sting is unlike any kind of pain he's ever felt, even compared to his current wounds, which have actually gone half numb from the sheer amount of pain they're in. Jimmy cries out a broken wail, gritting his teeth, his tears pooling onto the floor as he squeezes his eyes shut.

You groan as you struggle to fit inside him even halfway, spitting on his hole again for good measure. "Hah– holy shit, Jim. I can already tell you won't be a half bad fleshlight for me."

Jimmy trembles from the utter discomfort he feels from the unwelcome penetration. He wants to scream, but all that comes out is pathetic, choked sobs, his cheek laying in a puddle of his own tears. "Fuck you, fuck you..." He snivels, blubbering.

You hardly even acknowledge him as he weeps, managing to jam yourself halfway inside him, his walls clenching like a vice around your shaft. "God, you're probably tighter than a girl." You laugh, your palm coming down harshly on his ass, just so you can watch him jolt. You snake a hand around his torso to grab his cock, noticing it's flaccidity. "Damn, you're not even hard," You comment without much sympathy, simply verbalizing your observation, "Not that I care, but it'd be funny if you got off on this too."

Jimmy, unable to recoil out of your grasp, can only cringe harder than he ever has. "You're sick," he hissed, "I'll tell everyone, you can't get away with–"

"You really think any of them will feel bad for you?" You roll your eyes in annoyance, growing tired of how irksome he is. "Jeez, I wish I could gag you with something. You're the most concieted egomaniac–" You grunt as you snap your hips against his, your dick shoved to the hilt inside him, "–That I have ever met."

Jimmy ceases his griping for once, laying there like a defenseless ragdoll. What else can he do? He's short of options, a plan, support... he has nothing. Nothing and no one will save him this time. The inside of his hole aches excruciatingly, agony washing over his entire body, his neck is cricked to the side, irritating the muscle which is sure to be unbearably tender later. A lasting reminder of how weak he really is.

His hole loosens to take your cock as you thrust with an impetuous rhythm, hearing him whine at every brutish snap of your hips. The way his slick walls drag along your shaft makes you feel a fervid sense of carnality, knowing you've reduced him to a mere object. A receptacle. "Fuck, I didn't think you'd feel this good. That's something you've got going for you." You utter throatily, groping his hips to pull him back and forth on your dick.

He wants to die. He wishes you would've just killed him and threw his bloated corpse out of the airlock, never to be seen again in the vast outskirts of space. Shit, he would've been fine with you just abandoning him to rot in here alone. But he hasn't earned your mercy, or anyone's. Jimmy feels every inch of your cock violating and slamming carelessly deep inside him

"I hope this hurts." You confirm scornfully that yes, you're aware he's in pain, and you're very pleased with yourself. "This is exactly what she felt, and this is exactly what you deserve."

Jimmy silently prays to a god he's never believed in to make you stop, or just cum already and be done with him. "Ple–ease...–" he finds himself mewling miserably, running out of both the tears, and strength to cry. He finds himself completely detaching from reality, clinging onto the hope that this will be over soon. If he can live through this, he'll be okay. His dissociative, quiet state makes it all the more easy for you to ignore his humanity.

You feel the familiar buildup of warmth stirring in your gut, balls tightening annoyingly soon. You wanted to prolong his suffering, but you've been just as pent up as anyone else would be during an 8+ month long haul. The difference between you and Jimmy was that you could hold back and not give into your own selfish desires.

Another difference between you two is that you can get away with this, not suffering from any ramifications. But him? If you're all miraculously saved from this hell you're trapped in, he won't be exempt from the consequences of his actions. The other, less favourable outcome being the ship runs out of oxygen and food, and you're all forced to die slowly, but the one positive aspect is that Jimmy still wouldn't be getting out scott free. In every way, he lost.

With a drawn out growl, you fill him to the brim with warm, thick ropes of cum. When you catch your breath and pull out, you watch the sticky, white substance seep from his gaping hole. It drips down his shaking thighs, which collapse under him, and he falls to his side, curled up in a piteous ball, hugging himself tightly and hiding his face as he tries to ignore the throbbing pain in his ass and imagine himself somewhere else. Though, he doesn't exactly know where to escape to. He's never had a 'happy place', so to speak.

Picking yourself up off the ground and brushing yourself off, you tut at the comical display of cowardice in front of you. You kick his quivering body in the ribcage for good measure as you tuck yourself back into your uniform.

"See you next time, Captain." You sneer, speaking to him with shocking casualness, leaving the cargo hold without a second glance back at him.

The words "next time" replay tauntingly in his head as he lay there, paralyzed with terror.

–

[thatmonsterfuckerguy]

Male!Yander!Vampire X FTM!Reader

Warnings: He's possessive, he's creepy, he drinks your blood without consent, but the sex is consetual, he's a stalker, he fucks the reader rough, fast, and in a primal fashion, he bites, he leaves marks, he's an older man from the Victorian era

You decided to treat yourself by going to a cheap masquerade party this weekend with some friends. It was nothing too pricy, but still kept the fancy aesthetic. Unfortunately for you, your friends all wandered off and left you alone. You were sitting at the bar of the place, bored with a drink in your hand.

"Why the long face?" You heard a voice say. It was an older man's voice. His voice was bordering on reassuringly soft and creepily soft. You turned to face him slowly in your drunken state.

"My friends left me. I'm bored." You bluntly told him. His face was sunken in and his hair was graying a bit. His face was aged handsomely despite how skeletal it was. He frowned at your response.

"That's a shame, dear. Would you like me to keep you company?" He asked.

"Sure." You shrugged.

"Cain Ashdown, at your service, Sir." He smiled as he stuck out his hand for a shake.

"Y/n, nice to meet you." You introduced yourself back as you shook his hand. You both talked about your lives for a good half-hour. You did most of the talking. He kept his side of the conversation pretty vague. You felt like he was talking a whole lot of nothing. He was rather mysterious, you found it charming in a way. Suddenly, the music changed and caught his attention.

"Oh! I love this song. Would you care for a dance with me, Sir?" He asked. Something about him was so alluring. You couldn't get yourself to say 'no' even if you wanted to.

"Of course!" You found yourself smiling as you said it. You hoped he hadn't noticed your blush, but his smug smile told you he definitely did. He took you into a dance gently. He was very graceful as he danced. You were just trying to keep up.

"Watch me, dear, and try to follow slowly. Once you feel comfortable, I'll go a bit faster." He gently reassured you. Something about the way he said it made you blush as an involuntary shiver went up your spine. The way he was holding you, combined with the heads turning towards you two, and the alcohol you had, were making your body temperature rise greatly. You were thankful for your overcoat, it hid the sweat stains on your dress shirt. He was getting in closer and closer as the dance went on. You were trying your best to keep it together, but your legs were starting to shake with want for him. You nearly fell over, but he caught you. "Are you alright, dear?" He asked.

"Y-yeah, thanks, I think I need to sit down... Maybe some water..." You forced yourself to pant out.

"I'll accompany you." He smiled. You suddenly noticed how long, narrow, and sharp his canines were. You blinked and his lips were sealed again. You must have had more to drink than you thought. He helpfully guided you away from the dance floor. He could smell the blood flowing to the thing between your legs, fighting himself not to devour you right there, in public, right now, both literally and figuratively. He helped you sit down once you got water. He was like a bird of prey with his dramatic cape that was part of his costume, and you felt like a mouse. He suddenly felt your face. "You're burning, dear, are you alright?" He said almost teasingly. You leaned into his hand further, your nerves were calmed by the alcohol. "Oh my..." You looked up at him with want. "Come, lay on me, dear." He offered. You leaned into his chest. His hands were boney and chilled. You didn't mind, especially now. You felt very hot, the cold was welcomed. He played with your hair and caressed your skin. He slowly creeped down to your thigh. You gasped. He pulled away swiftly. "I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to startle you... Is it alright if I take you elsewhere? Maybe relieve you a bit?" He asked. You suddenly noticed something hard poking you from beneath. You knew exactly what he wanted.

"Yes... please..." You found yourself slurring without thinking. "B-but there's something you need to know... I was assigned female at birth, and I haven't gotten bottom surgery..." You stammered, worrying this handsome man would desert you upon hearing it.

"I don't mind one bit." He grinned and abruptly took you into a bridal carry. He smiled at you as your face flushed when you looked up at him. He was surprisingly strong for such a thin framed man. Once you both left the party, he began carrying you over to a fancy hotel nearby.

"Goodness, boy, the restraint it took not to devour you in front of all those people when you said 'yes'" He chuckled. A lovely shiver went up your spine again. You couldn't help yourself, you grabbed his face and kissed him passionately. He was a very good kisser. His tongue was very long and sharp. He indulged you for a good minute before pulling away to speak. "Now, now, not in the street, you silly boy." He teased. You felt yourself sort of swoon. He carried you up to a hotel room and practically threw himself onto you, on the bed. He waisted no time covering you in kisses and nips as he stripped you. There was no way you could suppress your moans. "God, you're handsome." He let out through his kisses.

"Please... in me..." You panted.

"Are you on birth control or do I need a condom?" He asked.

"I'm on... no need... please..." You panted desperately. He practically tore off his clothes, lubed himself up, and slid into you faster than a human could. You moaned involuntarily at the feeling of him sliding inside. You were in too much heat to care about how fast he went. He started off slow to ease you onto him. You looked up at him. He looked very predatory in the dim light. He looked like a hungry beast with the wild look in his eyes, his long, sharp teeth, the way he pinned you down... A tinge of fear and arousal built up in you. You could swear he looked more like a skeletal beast than he did before. He barely looked like a man anymore. You held him closer to your body. He was fucking you fast and rough like an animal and you loved it. He slid his long tongue up your neck. You shivered with a moan.

"May I bite?" He panted.

"Yes!" You moaned. He grinned slyly. He positioned himself right above your neck, kissing and licking it first. He slid his hand down to your t-dick and skillfully stimulated you. You let out louder moans than before.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Yes!" You panted. He suddenly bit down. A sharp, icy pain corsed through your body combined with the most intense orgasm you had ever felt. You practically screamed. He covered your mouth, not to alert the hotel staff. Your hole was gushing more than it ever had while you were on testosterone. You quivered under him. He retracted his teeth as you came down from your high. You felt weaker than before.

"Do you need a break, dear?" He asked.

"Uh-huh..." You panted. He pulled out slowly. He kissed you where he bit you softly, lapping up the blood that was spilling. "Am I bleeding...?" You asked in a daze.

"Only a bit, dear, no need to fret. I'll treat your wound before I let you go anywhere." He told you in a hushed tone as he held you in his arms. Your eyes focused on him. He did look more beastly than before.

"W-what are you...?" You quivered. He smiled sympathetically at you.

"I'm a vampire, dear, but nobody will believe you if you said a word of it." He bluntly told you.

"Am I gonna become a vampire too?!" You panicked.

"No, no, don't worry, I meerly drained you a bit. You're still human, just, with less blood for the time being." He grinned.

"You could have asked me." You let out.

"I technically did." He grinned, trying not to laugh at his own stupid joke. You rolled your eyes while begrudgingly smiling.

"I mean you could have told me you would drink my blood." You corrected yourself.

"If I asked properly, you wouldn't have let me bite." He explained.

"Yes, I would have." You told him.

"Most people wouldn't have." He corrected himself. "Considering the fact that you let me feed on you this time, does that mean you'd let me do it again?" He asked. You thought for a moment.

"Are you gonna keep seeing me and fucking me every so often?" You asked. He grinned.

"Yes." He chuckled. "I'd love to. You're such a fine, young man." He flirted as he gently caressed your face.

"Then yes, I will." You smiled back. He grinned.

"Would you like another round without me draining you this time? I'll fill you instead." He flirted. You impulsively pulled him back onto you. He wasted no time slipping back inside you. "Now that you know what I am, I don't need to hold back anymore." He teased. He gradually quickened his pace until it was faster than a human's. He chewed on your skin leaving marks all over you, though not as strongly as when he drank your blood. It was a pleasant pain. He held you close, possessively. "Mine..." He panted. His claws dug into your back. He was pressing against your t-dick with his other hand, making damn sure he felt your hole pulse tighter around him every few seconds. He flipped you around and began fucking you from the back, while staying in the same hole. He manipulated you with such ease like you were a ragdoll. He was so animalistic in bed compared to the dapper, but slightly unsettling gentlemen you met earlier that night. He was panting quickly into your ear as he pounded into you. You could hear him frothing at the mouth behind you. "Mine. Mine. Mine!" He kept whispering obsessively. He suddenly let out a beast-like bellow as he slowed his pace, overfilling you. His grip on you softened as he caught his breath. "Forgive me, dear, I tend to get a little... possessive... when in heat..." Despite sounding and appearing confident as he spoke, couldn't bring himself to look you in the eyes.

"That's alright." You said softly as you played with his hair. He smiled warmly at you. "So, how long have you been like this anyway?" You asked.

"Since 1887." He admitted.

"Yeah, that checks out." You laughed as you messed his hair playfully. He chuckled with you. You kept seeing each other since. You also discovered that his meeting you was no coincidence. He had seen you before the night you met and he pulled various strings to get you to meet him. He's a little obsessive, sometimes creepily so, but nothing too crazy... You think anyway.

[sunny-mercya]

Chasing Shadows

Percy Jackson x Male Reader

Fandom -> Percy Jackson Series

Masterlist

Percy had known, more gotten it told—rather offhandedly and in a rude, dismissive and snarky snide manner—about your mental health from the very beginning, when he had first woken up in Camp Half-Blood.

It hadn't deterred him to befriend you—the skittish, anxious and shy boy, with a sunshine like smile and an heart filled with too much joy and genuine love.

So now, when summer vacation had started again for Percy—after almost a whole year since the Battle against Kronos rising had been won and over—to be back at Camp, hopefully for some tranquility and peaceful time, the very first thing he did—besides bringing his luggage into his Cabin—was to check up on you.

You're a full time camper since birth and the only few times you had gotten even remotely out of Camp, had been during two Quests—where Percy had dragged you along for non real purpose in all honesty—and the final battle. Percy knew how cramped and suffocating you felt in camp, so he hopes the present he had brought for you—would cast a smile on your lips.

Jogging around, having a hard time finding you as you weren't in your usual spots and neither were you in the Apollo Cabin—which wasn't your Cabin to stay in as Apollo isn't your other parental half, but due an oath binding between Apollo and Zephyr—your actual parental half—you (and all other children of Zephyr, which were none thought as you're the only one) are allowed to stay in the Apollo Cabin as well.

Percy had heard from Annabeth—which was a bit surprising as the both of you are not familiar with one another at all—and Will, which was to be expected as you're his unofficial—hopefully soon officially—adopted little brother, how your mental health had taken a drastic shift into a worsen state than it had been before.

When Percy checked the Medical wing and couldn't saw in there either, there had been only more place left in his mind—where you probably could've been hiding, a small offside shore by the lake—and Percy swore, if you're not there either, he would go to Chiron and and report you missing.

~~~

Percy thanked Zeus and possibly God above with sincere gratitude, that you're indeed by the lake.

Though when Percy was almost near you—eyes widen in shock, breath caught in his lungs, once he saw your appearance vaguely close enough—he skidded into an stop, stumbling a few steps forward and landed with his knees—probably scraping them open—in the rough pebble and rock filled sand.

He crawled the last bit of way, sitting himself right in front of you. You didn't seem to register him at all, in a sort of daze you are—in your own world, lost in empty thoughts—staring with with dull eyes, void of emotions and life, at him or more like through him as if he was glass.

»Hey, [Nickname], I almost thought about to report you missing. You're way too good at hiding, seashell,« chuckled Percy, placing his hands over yours, wanting to recoil his touch back instantly—shuddering in a flinch, when feeling how leathery and boney your hand was—but didn't, giving you a squeeze and interwoven his fingers with yours.

What happened to you? Thought Percy, swallowing hard as his breath threatened again to be stuck in his lungs. Licking over his lips—slightly nibbling and pulling on the skins.

»[Name],« he called your name, in a softer hushing voice, out again. Caressing with his thumbs over your hand and again you didn't reacted.

While giving you a short full body scan, Percy engulfed you slowly into a hug—pulling you close and slowly down to the sandy and scratchy pebble rock ground.

Your skin, which had a once healthy glow to it, looked now ashen pale sickly and had a leathery grease to it. Cheekbones, chubby baby fat gone, hollowed and sunken in—so were your eyes and eye-bags beneath it, darker than ever.

Percy could tell that you had lost significantly lost weight, leaving you more than just scrawny—boney skinny, with arms so thin like toothpicks and your ribcage showing through—in a sense—your shirt.

By Zeus, you looked more like a corpse than an actual human being.

~~~

When the sun had started to set ever so slowly in the late afternoon, Percy picked you up—realising, his mind now completely catching up on the fact how, weight losses you actually are—after talking your ear off with everything he had on his mind, unconsciously making you fall asleep and carrying you back to the Apollo Cabin.

Laying you down onto your bed, Percy sat down next to you for a few more minutes of moments, while Will—who had nodded at him solemnly when he had entered the Cabin with you—passed out from exhaustion—in his arms—had drawn the curtains close around your bed as you never liked it to sleep in such open space, where everyone could watch you.

Percy examined your wrist, seizing up the freshly healed scars—which definitely weren't from a fight or sparring—he had a hunch, a fucking good hunch, to what was happening to you and leaves you in nothing but a mere unresponsive hollowed shell of decay.

Clenching his eyes shut for a second and blinking away the tears, which started to build up with a pressuring burning in his eyes, Percy looked at Will—wanting some answers, clarification and confirmation.

»How long?«

»Probably started shortly after the final battle against Kronos and Luke.«

»Why didn't you guys told me sooner?«

Will shrugged his shoulders, folding some clothes—putting them down onto the empty chair—and checking your nightstand cabinet, mentally noting down which of your medications and prescriptions needed to be refilled.

»Everyone handles Traumatic experiences differently and I've noticed it rather late, which mind you I'm still upset with myself about it, the telltale signs. Then again, you know how my brother is, never wanting to burden anyone,«

Percy swallowed, remembering it clearly—the traumatic experience, Will was talking about;

Luke in your arms, whispering apologies with his last remaining breaths to you and you reassuring him, that while you're still angry with him—about his stupidity of decision he made—you would forgive him and telling a lie of how everything gonna be okay.

And then, Percy had only walked away for a few seconds to get Will or Lord Apollo, when a piercing scream—your scream, so full of desperation and sorrow—echoed through, Percy stopped dead in his tracks.

Turning around fast, Percy looked at you with an horrific expression. You who is covered in blood and other bodily things, which he not dared to say out loud.

Lukes blood to be exact, then Luke—while still talking to you, in his hoarsely dying voice—had exploded, Kronos last dying act of breath itself, into a gruesome splattering thickly bloody mass.

So yeah, Percy knew very well what Will was talking about and a topic which had never been addressed properly with you, without sending you into a hysterical panic.

~~~

When Percy had retired back to his own Cabin, falling easily into sleep, he knew the dream—which were more a foretelling—he had, was a sign that this summer was just like the last few ones—filled with prophecies and adventures.

And in all this where you—getting dragged around, hair turning from ash grey into a snow white and leaving you more vulnerable crippled than before—losing perhaps the last part of your sanity to continue to live on.

Percy felt scared. He couldn't lose you. He just couldn't and he won't as you're his everything—his seashell to his waves.

[sweetlikesummerhoney]

Ok so I am in love with Ur mafia au

Read ur rather die....in love with it

Can we get how they meet, fallen in love, and first time in bed?❤️

Reader being Megatron's sister and optimus fall for her after a steamy night

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

human! (pre mafia boss) orion pax x afab reader.

human mafia! au. plot. lore. mild gore and wounds. found family with megatron (he's your brother). reader is referred to as "stitcher" briefly. orion pax!!!

oral giving and recieving. fingering. praise kink and mild dirty talk. overstimulation. piv sex.

boy this might be really long lol the brain worms were fr stewing on this one. I couldn't just write the steamy scenes without lots of plot and backstory, so this is an unofficial official beginning between megatronous and orion pax (later optimus).

you were familiar with the way his rough, warm hands would always press into your shoulders. guiding you, teaching you the ruthless land of the underworld. filled with hate and hunger, greedy eyes and starving stomaches.

his name was megatronous. his presence was one of the rare reliefs in kaon. because in the underworld, the only way to survive is to claw your way to the surface. and he had already done that once before.

despite his skinny, lengthy body, his heart held true. despite the way he had suffered, watching his brothers and sisters die in the mines. his mere designation as a coal miner did not bind him, but rather fuel that raging spark he held in his chest.

it had been mere coincidence you had passed him. ears perked for danger, because in kaon there was no time to rest. if you didn't have your guard up, you would be prey to the ruthless that haunted the tunnels.

all you heard was a grunt before finding someone barely older than you, one with striking silver hair and ruby red eyes. despite the way the black uniform clung to his boney form, you could clearly see the red that slowly spilled from his torso.

his eyes narrowed as you slowly approached, reaching into your bag to retrieve the few, rare bandages you managed to scavenge from behind a hospital.

maybe it was your bleeding heart that made you do this. or foolishness. kaon has no place for fools.

you helped him anyway.

he weakly scampered away, trying to fruitlessly drag his body away from you in fear. his fangs were on display as he hissed at you, daring you to approach, ruby eyes narrowed at your form.

you feigned innocence as you saw him clench at the handle of a blade, eyes squinted in determination. boundless will to survive hit you, and you smiled to yourself.

he stiffened.

you ignored his threats, the way he brandished his weapon without batting an eyelash. you were unresponsive to the way he threatened to slash you to pieces. you ignored the way his knife pressed against vulnerable flesh, instead taking in his shaking hand and the harsh words escaping parched lips.

what a feisty little thing.

you wordlessly began treating the wound, watching confusion and weariness set on his face. the tight grip on the blade never left, but he was kind enough to shift when you went to wrap the wound.

"this is a salve that you can apply. otherwise, try to keep the wound as clean as possible. no dirt, soot, or foreign material should get in there." you spoke, giving him a firm nod as you stood up.

it took him a few seconds to recognize the kindness lingering off your form, something simply unheard of in the underground.

"why?" it was a simple question, but it struck your soul. you pursed your lips, biting them as you thought.

"everyone deserves a bit of kindness every once in a while."

and then you left, not knowing this wouldn't be the first time you saw him.

-

he kept you in his sight. watching the way you scampered and fled, keeping close eyes on the officers who drank and smoked. you were an unofficial medic of sorts, despite being so young and helpless. those around you kept their lips tight and eyes closed to your actions.

whether from disinterest or a strange sort of protectiveness, megatronous was not sure. what he did know, was you were around his age. a young kaonian without any parents, and without support. it was a miracle you had survived as you did.

and a sort of strange, alluring foolishness that caused you to stop and help that night. so unlike the others that roamed the darkened alleyways.

a botched, silver scar had rested in the place of the wound you had treated all those months ago. and between fighting in the rings and gathering information about the kings of kaon, he had stumbled across you once again.

you were cornered. surrounded by ruthless fighters who had nothing good to do than waste time. their leers and jeering had you narrowing your eyes and clutching the straps of your backpack.

their figures seemed to tower over yours as they pulled and pushed, but your face held nothing but slight annoyance.

you looked helpless. someone so small wouldn't be able to fight off the street ruffians of kaon. megatronous, for once, thought about stepping in. if it were anyone else, any other kaonian, he wouldn't have cared. yet one of the kind souls, few and far in between, had all been caught and killed.

the good die young was a saying that he bitterly believed in.

your hair whipped into your face as you yowled, quickly avoiding their jabs. unheard words were uttered, only spurring them on. you eyed their dirtied knives with disdain.

one got closer, pulling at loose hair as you jerked closer. megatronous was not close enough to hear what was being uttered, but from your expression he could only guess.

and when a knife scraped itself into your skin, the world went sideways.

megatronous came to your rescue as you lept into action. one hand that had been previously hidden behind your back had flung several sharp, thick needles in their directions. with surprising speed and accuracy, you slammed your fist into the nearest's stomach and sent the offender sprawling to the floor.

megatronous didn't let surprise flash over his face, merely swooping in and quickly taking out the remaining perpetrators near you. their angry cries were quickly quieted as they saw who stood before them.

the rising star of kaon. megatronous. the gladiator who killed and fought and clawed through blood, sweat, and tears.

who slaughtered mercilessly in the pits, with ruby red eyes that swam like the sea of blood shed around him.

you stared in silence.

"are you okay?" his question took you by surprise. from the rumors floating around you had only guessed megatronous was vicious and enraged, merciless and sharper than the current military's commanders.

from skin to bone into lithe, smooth muscle. he had grown significantly since the last time you saw him. all those matches won must have given him several credits for better resources. better food.

an option out.

yet here he was. still in kaon. still in that same dirty, black uniform.

"m' fine." you mutter, brushing hair out of your face as you eye him up and down.

"you normally don't come here." you snort as you raise an eyebrow,

"and what were you doing here? your sponsors would balk at the way their honored gladiator of kaon still dirties himself with the underground."

his frame stiffened, eyes narrowing and hands clenching for a moment. his voice is smooth and filled with purpose as he speaks. you see the way his shoulders straighten and relax, hands clasped against his back as he speaks.

"kaon is all the same wherever you go. my sponsors know nothing of the way miners are poisoned and killed every day. orphans grow every day without a parent, and these streets are far from safe.

I do not associate myself with them." he spits the words out like poison, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching at the mere mention of those above him.

its strange, the way he talks. nothing of the harsh and blunt way kaonians usually spoke, his voice had a tone and rhythm that was unfamiliar, yet held importance. he demanded attention despite barely being older than eighteen.

"then tell me, megatronous. why are you here?" he cleared his throat, eyes gleaming appreciatively as you uttered his name. a designation. one with deeper meaning and endless ambition.

"for you."

you balk, confusion filling your face as you scrunch your nose.

"we need a medic for our future endeavors. you are one of the only medics in kaon that would treat anyone. without question."

you tense.

"for the revolution." his grin seems to grow wider, almost splitting his face as he looks at you, pleased.

"so you've heard."

"I've heard about an ambitious gladiator who spoke of freedom and liberation. who speaks for his fallen brothers and sisters to a system broken beyond repair.

I've heard of a ruthless uprising in the underground. where whispers travel from kaon all the way of iacon. I've heard of two brothers who were bonded together by fate.

I've heard of civil unrest through the ranks. threatening to snap as you and your forces slowly reach further, preaching to anyone who will listen. I've heard many things. but are they true?" you ask, eyes blazing with determination. your skills could be used for good. other than patching up drunkards and sickly little children who are forced to work in the mines for their next meal.

megatronous nods.

"they are."

"then, I also heard that megatronous has acquired a skilled medic." a smirk graces his face.

"then so be it."

-

he is ambitious. so much more than you had originally thought. his roots were deeper than you thought, reaching the younglings of kaon, the miners and all those who had been oppressed.

it took no time for megatronous to acquire all the supplies he needed to set up a medic center, straight in the heart of the refuge camp. it was lively, with children and adults together, hiding and seeking care away from the ruthless rulers of kaon.

criminals. refugees. hopeless people who had been shackled by the increasingly thinner line between working and being owned by those who paid them.

you had seen it all.

pneumonia and rotting lungs impacted by the toxic waste in the water and air. children missing limbs and thin, skeletal frames just barely clinging onto life.

people who shouldn't be alive by logic and science. yet they hold and cling onto their fragile hope with calloused hands.

it was much worse than you had ever thought it to be.

and megatronous had guided you through it. rooting you back to the present, with the sick and suffering who laid on the floor separated by thin sheets and scrap for privacy.

his voice was a mere echo in your ear as you sprung into work. there was much to do and so little time to do anything other than it. because while you had thought to help, you didn't understand the way kaon was poisoned.

kaon was suffering from disease.

and megatronous was the epidemic.

even the sick had greeted him, in hoarse, roughened voices filled with hope. and with every greeting you saw and the way he shifted made you realize that this was much bigger than you and the gladiator of kaon.

you understood, in a sense, why he composed himself like this. he was like a walking talking god, but this time, this god responded in earnest towards its people.

his steps held more than just his ambition. but rather the lives of those who had clung to him in hope and desperation.

his voice rose you from your thoughts as you wordlessly began assessing your newly acquired patients.

"I assume this center has been set up to your standards?" you nod. "yes. although I'm not sure how much time or efforts would have been wasted had I said no." ruby eyes narrow the slightest.

"I would have gotten what I wanted regardless." a shiver runs up your spine, turning away from his suddenly unnerving expression as you continued to clean wounds and bandage lacerations.

you had heard lots about a gladiator who had slowly begun to build an empire. for the sick and helpless and poor. those like you but without such will and drive to survive.

you just hoped you hadn't picked the wrong side to tango with. even if that dance lead you closer to death every single day.

.

years were shaved off your life when kaon had erupted into chaos. where government officials and ruthless military had beat down those who threatened their existence. you were there when starving, thin frames had shattered to the floor with every pop! pop! pop! that echoed in the air.

you were there when megatronous and soundwave had gathered their followers to protest against their lords. you were there in the aftermath.

burying the bodies who no longer had identities and names. mere numbers in a death count.

and megatron was endless.

he and his people fought back. blood spilt and sprayed that day. desperation where he had fought his way into the center of kaon. where he rallied his troops and broke into the executive residence of the lords of kaon.

adrenaline coursed through your veins as you ran through the crowd, quickly dragging away the wounded back to safety before going back. it was relentless, the way each second felt like eons, where the screams and hollers of those around you cut through the air.

and in the end, where megatron got what he wanted. but at what cost?

you were the one who had to burry the bodies. of children and teenagers and adults who believed in the future before them. of a gladiator who had pushed and pushed and pushed until there was nothing in his way.

he never visited you that night. where you had to bury people you knew and grew up with. those who you had eaten and cooked with. those whom you had helped build their homes and cured their ailments.

those who shared intimate words of the future. a hope that never died even with their final breathes.

you were the one who had to tell siblings, newly orphaned children, and broken families of every. single. loss.

somewhere between now and then things had changed.

megatron and his endless greed were nothing compared to your will to survive. despite the heavy feeling in your chest, those around you celebrated and cheered each time megatron's flag had been raised to the streets.

it felt like greed consumed your soul as you watched those return, either in body bags or with wounds that would last lifetimes.

it wasn't you. but the thoughts began to plague your entire being with ever wound you inflicted and each soul you saved.

people were happy and free. but at what cost?

what cost would he stop?

that you could not answer. so instead you hid away in a crowded bar filled with laughter and cheers. your soul seemed to shake at the way those around you shook, eyes glancing off wounds and bandages and endless flesh.

all you could do is avert your eyes and drink your sorrows away.

war is not for the weak hearted.

and unfortunately, you were.

a firm, yet unfamiliar hand pressed against your shoulder. flashes of megatron and his endless lithe echoed in your head as you turned in alarm. he was the last you wanted to see. after all those lives lost.

instead, it was a young man with a soft smile on his face. black hair curled back, with soft wisps kissing smooth skin.

"you look troubled." his voice was smooth and deep, gently scraping against your ears as you turned back to your drink. he took a seat right besides you as you sighed.

"orion pax. and you are?"

"they call me stitcher."

"the head medic. you did quite a job out there. heard ratchet couldn't keep you off field." you shook yourself with a heartless chuckle.

"the battlefield always calls."

orion shifts for a moment, calling out to the bartender and ordering an unusually fruity concoction compared to the hard liquor being served all around.

you smiled mirthlessly.

"no hard energon for you?"

orion sputtered as he flushed.

"nothing wrong with enjoying your drink. and not burning your taste buds off."

"it's not meant for enjoyment." you say, pressing your lips together as you glance into the glass before you. it shimmers and swirls like the stars in the books you had gathered.

of galaxies and places far beyond your reach. holding endless possibilities and freedom. boundless energy without respite.

"it's not your fault." he pipes up, eyes nervously taking in your stormy expression.

"I saw you out there today. you couldn't save everyone." "but what if I could? what if I tried harder? what if I made the wrong decisions?" you continue, feeling your eyes fill with tears as you shake.

"I had to chose between the future generation and my friends today. there wasn't enough supplies and medicine to go around for everyone." you clench your fist as you refuse to look your companion in the eye.

"people bled out there because I was too slow." "you were exhausted." he fought for you. in a way, trying to wrangle in the endless grief and guilt that weighed over your head. you shook your head.

"everyone was."

you stiffened at the way orion wrapped his arms around you, tucking your chest under his chin. you could feel the way his chest rumbles as he gently rubs your back.

"one shall stand. many will fall. we are still here, and that is all that matters. because we stood up for those who could not."

and for once, the tightly clasped lock to your chest had opened. and for the first time in years, you wept.

-

he is soft in his embrace. his hands are smooth and barely calloused as he slowly presses you against the cheap hotel room. energon rushes between both of your veins as he grasps your hair, giving you a soft smile before devouring you.

his lips are soft against yours as the two of you move in tandem. his shirt is soft in your grasp as you clutch him closer, grounding you to reality around you.

the two of you part with shallow gasps, chests heaving against each other as orion looks you in the eye once more.

"are you sure this is what you want?" you nod eagerly, letting your head hit the soft mattress beneath you.

"make me forget tonight." orion is uncharacteristically bold as he smiles, pressing his forehead against yours as his breath brushes against lightly dewed skin.

"as you wish."

his kisses are fluttering against your neck as he nuzzles against you, tongue laving against your slow pulse. his nips are playful as he presses his hands against your hips, pressing you into place.

his hips jerk and swivel against yours, his grip tightening as he feels you jerk. the rough patch of his jeans grind against your core, and all you can do is squirm and mewl against him.

orion seems naive, yet his movement is anything but that. his weight presses against you as he slowly presses your legs open, gulping at the sight before you.

folds glisten in the limelight as you squirm, eyes helpless as you try helplessly to cover yourself. orion is having none of this as he gently traps your hips with his arm pressed across your stomach.

"stop squirming dear. you'll only work yourself up more."

his tongue gently presses against your clit, smirking against your folds as you mewl, head pressed against the pillow as your hair flows around you like a halo.

you look absolutely angelic.

orion is ruthless in the way he slowly rolls your clit in his mouth, pressing hot kisses against your folds and teasingly dipping the tip of his tongue into your cunt.

you keen softly as he presses against you, eagerly devouring anything you offer. its a mindless rhythm as he groans against you, his voice shaking your core as you gently grind against him.

his nose presses against your clit as he tongues you open, gently fucking you with his tongue. its almost enough stimulation, yet not enough.

it has you crying in frustration. heavy need and want floods your system, robbing your mind of the endless spiral of thoughts.

orion gives you one last, half lidded eye before reaching up and kissing you. you can taste the tang of yourself against your lips as he sucks on your bottom lip.

you gasp as you feel thick fingers press against your folds, gently teasing you open before slowly stretching you. its sudden but slow and it has you clenching tightly against his fingers.

you tangle your hands into his hair as you press him closer, breasts gently brushing against his chest. you can feel the breath leave him as he gently fucks you.

the palm of his hand gently grinds into your center as he slowly pumps his fingers into your gummy walls. you should almost be embarrassed by the slick that gushes between your legs and the echo of wet noise between the two of you.

but his smile reassures you.

his mouth presses against your breasts, gently biting and sucking his claim against smooth, pretty skin. you arch into his touch as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

"that's it. just like that. clench down on me."

"fuck, keep grinding against me like that. good. good girl."

you gently press his head up as he looks at you in slight confusion.

"let me.... taste you too." you huff, chest gasping for air as he gives one harsher thrust of his fingers, smirking at the sudden way your hips jerk as you moan in surprise.

"of course sweetheart. whatever you want."

he stands, allowing you to slowly crawl to your knees and press yourself against smooth, defined legs. you bat your eyelashes at him as he puts one hand on your head.

the weight is reassuring as you gently grasp him in your hands, mouth salivating at the sheer weight agains the palm of your hand.

you press the tip of his head into your mouth, gently swirling the velvet against your tongue and savoring the salty, savory taste against your tongue. you can hear orion gulp above you as he gently eases his hips closer, allowing you to further take his length down your throat.

the weight of his cock settles against the back of your throat as you breath through your nose, taking in deep breaths to calm your beating heart.

orion is flustered above you, eyes glassy and lips pressed firmly against himself. one hand is pressed into a fist by his sides as he obediently stills his hips.

he is left speechless as you bob your head, sucking your cheeks in as you swirl aimless patterns against his cock. it has him jerking and moaning, gently guiding your head up and down his length as he praises you in breathless pants.

"fuck. just like that. you should see yourself now. taking my cock down your throat."

his thrusts grow eager and harsher as he becomes more sensitive. there's a sense of urgency as he bucks and moans into your mouth, and with a surprised moan, he rips himself from you.

thick, long fingers press against the base of his cock as he greedily inhales air.

you look up at him with saddened eyes, like a puppy who's favorite treat had been taken.

he chuckles at you.

"get on the bed." you obey, pressing your front against smooth sheets as you arch your back, pressing your ass into the air.

he gently palms your ass in appreciation before pressing a familiar weight against your shoulder.

familiar in the way megatronous once did.

but for some reason, this feels more. better than that empty feeling that sunk into your stomach every time megatron visited you.

"are you ready?" "please." is all you can utter as he presses himself into you.

the two of you grunt in sync as he enters, you gasping and trying to press away from his thick cock. he gently shushes you, stroking your arm and intertwining your hands together as he slowly fucks you.

his lips press against your pulse as his thrusts grow confident and long, you can feel him smirk against your neck as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

"cum for me love." and all you can do is obey.

two rough pads press and swirl against your swollen clit, playing eagerly with the sensitive bud with calculated rolls. his thrusts hit a gooey spot in you and you clench hard around him.

you arch your back, eagerly pressing your hips against his as you mewl.

"there? right there princess?" orion pants, hips mercilessly driving against you as you clench and keen around him.

you think drool slowly drips through your parted lips, but you can't tell from the overwhelming tightness against your core. like a lightning bolt, your orgasm crashes through your form as you clench and cry.

orion shushes you softly as he continues thrusting, teeth scraping against the shell of your ear as you squirm against his weight.

all you can do is lay there and take it as he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your exhausted body.

he's endless in the way he traces over your body, pressing kisses against scars and bruises. his warm blue eyes seem to see through your soul.

and all you can do is clench and mewl at him, desperately clinging against him as he fucks into you. his hips slam against yours as you feel him swell in your cunt.

you weren't sure where he had gotten this stamina from, but it was a blessing and a curse in disguise. it made you sensitive and jerky, both wanting to be pulled into another mind melting orgasm, and seconds away from trying to jerk away in overstimuation.

and when he cums, he presses against you with his soul. you can feel him slowly fill you with his warmth as he pants, gently smoothing your hair from your face and gently smiling at you.

"that's it. with me now." he guides you to gently breath against his chest, slowly syncing your hearts together as he clutches you to your chest.

and for once, your mind is silent and your chest is weightless.

maybe you did pick the right side.

[hello-universe-lovers]

"I don't want to go back..."

On the first day of Chris--oh wait it's already passed in my timezone. Nvm. Anyway, Broken is done, yaaay! The girlfriends are reunited! Anyway, you know how it is. Spoilers beware!

So my interpretation of the Broken is a lil more...healthier than canon. I mean, she's still a depressed bean and all but unlike Cold, she's medicated/hj. Much like the Opportunist, I stamped way too many HCs onto her (actually my bf did, bc he's disabled and he's where I get most of my ideas from) so she is not 1-to-1. But when has a lil canon divergence stopped anyone? I still am happy with how she turned out and how her disability affects her!

Details time:

- Her Princess is the Wild. And the separation from her was rough on Broken. Because of her empathy, she truly thought that being connected was the right call. We both know how it ends, and the resulting split took her legs. When they got to the Wounded Wild, both can see the damage they caused the other, and so agreed to move forward from the pain, getting to know each other.

- She obviously lost her legs, up to her thighs are root. And they also sprout from her head, too. The flower is just to hide the hole that are now in her skull.

- her wings were stripped bare, boney and unable to grow new feathers. So she opted to wear a shawl over them so they didn't hurt.

- her walk is more like a waddle, if she's doing it alone. She'd prefer to move with assistance (mainly Cheated) but if push comes to shove, she'd move on her own...very slowly.

- she is still connected to the Wild. And more often than not, she'd go to her to assimilate into the system. It's mainly a coping and calming thing, as she and Wild talk better through this direct connection. To her, this is the equivalent of going to your friend's house for some chit-chat.

- her clothes were made by Smitten to be as comfortable and easy to pull off as possible.

- her talons are frequently trimmed

- as stated in headcanons, she smokes weed. Medicinal weed to cope with the pain.

- Obviously, sometimes things hurt. Her legs are a big contribution to the pain, but her head, chest and arms also flare up. It's something that happens and while she groans and moans about it, she'd just lay still until she can move again. (And pain medication if they are REALLY bad)

- the cane was provided by Wild. It's perfect for her and if you forcibly take it from her hands, the cane turns into a root to strangle you.

- it's hard to get her motivated to do so, but almost every voice has experience the Broken Bonk™️ of Disapproval from her cane (the ones who haven't are Connie, Hero and Cheated)

- she has channel most of her self hatred to unfiltered sass. She will call you out on bullshit while using herself as the goal post. ("At LEAST I have no legs. What's your excuse?" Is an example).

- wheelchair is also optional for long distance travel.

- if anyone can draw the back of her head, I will give you a free doodle. I just wanted to give her curls but idk how to make thst look, if you're looking from straight behind her.

- Despite EVERYTHING, she still loves the Wild. She views her as a fellow person looking to heal. With Cheated included, they formed a little support group for all the trauma these poeple went through. Mainly through providing a calming and empty space to get away from the chaos and noise of Construct (and sometimes each other).

- is she as zealous as canon Broken is with Tower? Eeehhh...a little. She would much prefer the interpersonal connection and sense of completion the Wild provides than the Distant but guaranteed Protection of the Tower, but separate the 2 princesses, and she'd still grovel to Tower exactly like canon.

- it goes without saying but I will say it so it's clear: if you draw my version of Broken, draw her with her mobility aids (Cane and/or wheelchair). They are a part of her and me and my bf would appreciate it greatly, if you do that.

Ok, that's all. If it's still Christmas in your timezone, then Merry Christmas!!

[fishyvamp]

Deathslinger x reader? I think he'd play with his survivor and edge to the point of overstimulation 🥴

I know who sent this and I know she'll be okay if I tweak this a little, related to this post.

NSFW 18+ MDNI (Deathslinger punishing his "Entity" for neglecting their trials)

Deathslinger didn't know what what to think when he found himself in a room with strange things and a closet so full you must be wealthy... You look so pretty laying there sleeping. His rifle set to the side of the bed as he sat down fingers reaching out to caress your face softly. "I reckon yer the prettiest thing I've seen," he whispers watching as you stirred looking up in a dream induced haze. He was startled to say the least when your lips mashed into his aggressive needy hands gripping the front of his vest holding him tight. Rough boney fingers grabbing at your waist. It felt strange how eager you were to kiss him. Outward displays of attraction was not being something he was lucky have in spades, but here it was you were hungrily kissing him. His body seizing as he hears you whisper the most sinful thing he could think of with someone as attractive as you. "Fuck me old man, fuck me like I'm the last good fuck you'll ever have."

Well when you ask him so nicely, he'll do as he's told flipping you on your stomach, entity given strength more then enough to flip, mentally he was unprepared to learn you slept naked your beautiful sex exposed to him practically glowing under the light of those magic strings that were glowing on your walls his fingers finding your hole twisting and curling he can feel the way you writhe beneath him clawing like a beast at your sheets as you had been so willfully unprepared. Your moans like a wild animal in heat as you fight to stay still. Deathslinger chuckles pinning you down with his free hand keeping your face pressed against the mattress as he adds another finger cooing in your ear, "such a filthy whore, taken a strangers fingers in such a personal spot. Shouldn't you know better."

Deathslinger smirks feeling you flinch when his hand meets your ass so harshly. He loves the way your greedy hole is just sucking him. He loves the way writhe and scream. Fuck if he didn't know any better he'd swear you were made for this. His cock practically screaming at him as it presses against his trousers. Thinking he's got you good and ready he pulls out, grabbing the snake in his pants smearing the precum down his shaft giving it a few good strokes before he's pressed against you pushing in hard. What he lacks in girth he makes up for in length the tip kissing deep inside you stroking the sweet spot as you drags it out. Soft and infuriatingly slow strokes being made as he just lazily fucks into you.

Deathslinger's mind overwhelmed hearing you whine and whimper around him, "I'm only repaying ya back dear. Isn't a mite frustratin' ta made ta wait." His fingers digging in harshly as you try to move it along, but he won't. He's enjoying himself, enjoys the feeling of having you desperate. He'll fuck you nice and slow for hours denying you to the point of overstimulation, poor hole clenching and desperate. "How about this darlin? You open the trials back up to us and I promise to lettin' ya have right proper good time." He drawls.

Watching the way the sweat on your skin glows in the dim lighting, Deathslinger feels alive for the first time in a long time, loving the way his balls slap against your skin. You nod your head weakly agreeing to his terms and hold on for dear life as he pace becomes more aggressive speeding up bit by bit having you finally cum, but he's not stopping. He's got plenty of stamina and a stubborn streak, he's gonna get you to cum over and over again not stopping to let you catch your breath as he cums deep inside you breeding that greed hole letting you milk him dry. He doesn't stop then just grinding into you until he's hard again. You aren't going to be empty until he's had his fill.

[zayne-li]

Fic Masterlist

Zanye and Siming

This is basically a thesis post I wrote about where I think Zayne's lore is going

Heat Signal (Tumblr link)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 15k

“You’re…” My instincts know exactly what it is, but my brain has a hard time reconciling the evidence in front of me, and assaulting my nose. “But you’re a beta.”

Zayne winces. He’s quiet for a long time before saying anything. “As I’m sure you can tell… I am not.”

“Who else knows?”

“Dr. Noah.”

“No one else?”

“Aside from my parents? No.”

Dessert Spread (Tumblr link)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 3.7k

This one is some Zayne/Sylus.

The only light in Zayne’s large living room comes from the moon shining through the large backdoor window, bathing the space in a soft cool tone, and the bright glow from his phone in his hand, held up by his face as he types away at an email for Akso’s administration board regarding his departments budget for the quarter. But even as he swipes between excel sheets and copies and pastes various numbers, his eyes are drooping a bit, and his fingers move slowly as he struggles to recall the way he wants to word things. It’s not something he intends on sending off tonight, but having a rough draft waiting for him when he returns to work will make things easier on him. 

Zayne yawns, and blinks as a text message pops through, distracting him enough to have his eyes opening a bit wider. 

It’s from Sylus.

Frozen Blood (Tumblr link)

Rating: Mature (for violence and blood)

Length: 3.3k

Thus far his eyes have been unable to meet yours, fixed on the ground like he’s afraid to look at you. But at your insistence, they flicker up towards you, dark and almost lifeless, with none of the spark you’re used to seeing. He says nothing, and instead tries to pull his hand from yours. You don’t allow it, tightening your grip, trying to have enough faith and determination for the both of you, because this Zayne… since you found him just a few days ago, seems like he’s given up far before he ever met you.

“I’m going to resonate with you–”

“No.” He is firm as he says it, and tries once again to pull his hand from yours.

Bloom

Rating: Teen

Length: 1.2k

“Clearly you needed it. It’s okay. You’re cute when you’re sleeping.” You respond, and he looks like he’s about to retort, but instead he yawns and rubs at his face again. 

“It’s been a long week. Month.” Zayne manages once the yawn subsides, and grunts, turning over so he can grab around your middle and press his face into your stomach. His voice becomes muffled now, rumbling against you in a way that’s almost ticklish. “I missed you.”

Heartbreaker Attacks! (Tumblr link)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 2.8k

What I expect to see is maybe a bit of frost on his fingertips or creeping up his neck, but instead, when I place my hand tentatively on the small of his back, I realize he’s burning up. Also… The moment my fingers make contact with his body, he moans. I jerk back almost on instinct, my brow furrowing in confusion. Is he injured there?

Zayne rolls his head to the side, and I can see better how he looks, red and panting. “I’m,” cough, “fine… You certainly acted quickly.”

He doesn’t look fine. His pupils are blown, and he has a hazy look in his eyes. My concern grows.

I blink at him. “Did you just…”

He looks away, blushing brighter, “… Yes, I believe so.”

Eye of the Blizzard (Tumblr link to chapter 1. Check AO3 for the rest!)

Rating: Teen (so far)

Length: 7 Chapters, 10k words

That girl, from his childhood. The one who stood out in his memories like a warm pastry, like a bright, inescapable light. The one who smiled and laughed, even when he didn’t, who saw the emotions he felt before he knew himself.

“Why are you crying?” She asked one day, finding him on the steps of her grandmother’s house, arms wrapped around his boney knees, head buried in his elbow, his cheeks red. She was bent sideways, almost falling over, balanced on one foot, just to try and catch his eye.

5 Fun Facts about the Prostate! (Tumblr link)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 3.8k

"... I don't know. I do know it's a pleasure point in the male body." 

"Zayne, you are not about to give me an anatomy lesson right now."

Exclusive Tutorial (Tumblr link)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 2k words

I grin at him and lean in for a soft kiss. “Did you know that you whimper when you come?” I ask against his lips, pulling him closer by his hips. His softening cock droops between us, and I admire for a moment the lewd image of him exposed, messy, his tie undone and his face red. 

“I do not.” Zayne scoffs, and I allow him to finally stand, backing off enough to let him tuck himself into his pants, though I mourn the sight. 

“You do. You just did.” I fold my arms, and he gives me a withering look. 

Battle Lust (Tumblr link)

Rating: Mature (No actual smut, but he’s thinking about it)

Length: 1.9k

“I know it hurts, Zayne, but I really, really need you to get up right now.” That’s her voice again, and then he can see her. Right in front of him, holding him halfway off the ground. There’s blood smeared across her lips, cheek, and eye, and her hair is ashy with dust, no hint of the real color underneath it all. 

In and out of dreams 

Rating: Teen (TW for brief thoughts of suicide)

Length: 1k

The Foreseer is unknowable, he is wise to the secrets of the universe, to the futures and fates of the people in this world around him. Except for his own. Every bit of his life, his future and past are a jumbled mess of moments that he is unable to make sense of. 

Drabbles

This is just Zayne getting another handjob. 

Rating: Explicit

Length: About 400?

"Y-you're going to kill me." Zayne gasps, his lax mouth turning up into a small smile as he huffs and puffs. "I'm suing for medical malpractice." 

Kitten Zayne!! (Someone please write this for real for me, I'll love you forever)

Rating: Teen

Length: 200-ish words

"Ah... Right. So that's why everyone's been looking at me funny all afternoon. I forgot."

[mara-xx217]

F&H Enki x fem!reader, raunchy NSFW please? <3

I have so many ideas for this asshole that's it's really hard to pick just one... So I'll pick the lesser of the evils I have lined up because some of them are... 😬 (but all in line with the usual F&H fucked-up-ness~)

Warnings: Noncon, Extremely Dubious Consent, Orgy, Mindless Sex, Loss of Virginity, Rough Sex, Sex-Repulsion, Touch-Repulsion, Gloves, Hair Pulling, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Multiple Creampies

You held the mask in your hand, feeling nauseous at the sight of it. 

“Hurry up and put it on.” 

His voice was dry and harsh, muffled behind the vaguely rabbit-shaped face that rested on his own. You made a face and flushed as you realized the dark priest, Enki Ankarian, was already undressed, save for his bicep-length gloves that still covered his thin arms and hands. It wasn’t as though the sight of nakedness was so terrible, given all the horrible things that you’ve seen while in the dungeon of Fear & Hunger, but seeing his pale, emaciated, scar-covered frame so clearly made your stomach turn violently against you. 

“I- I… will.” 

What other choice did you have? Supplies were low, and what little you had left needed to be given to the Girl. What a fight it was to get this priest to agree to such a thing… He had suggested that the Girl be given to the masked gentlemen in the caves, but you utterly refused. You promised you would take care of her, no matter what! And… And if that means you need to… W-Well… Then fine. 

You’ll give it up for her. 

You undressed with trembling fingers, piling your armour and clothing up to the side of the tree you hid behind for modesty’s sake. Was there anything modest about this? The sounds of dispassionate sex hits your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. You slipped the mask of Sylvian over your face, grateful that it hid your flushed face from prying eyes, from his eyes. 

He, the dark priest, was already standing among the copulating bunnies, facing in your direction. You embrace yourself in an attempt to salvage some of your dignity. Everything is on display… You’ve never been naked in front of anyone, let alone a group of strangers engaging in a never ending orgy outdoors. Enki stood out among the crowd of sweating, writing bodies, not only for how he had little to no body fat to speak of but because he wasn’t engaging in… affairs with any of the other participants. 

Your feet dragged against the cool grass, collecting the fallen mist that dewed on each individual blade. With your heart pounding in your ears, you waded into the crowd, stopping just shy of the dark priest that stood totally motionless and unflinching amidst all the debauchery happening around you. Your core tightened as his head tilted to the side ever so slightly, his long, wispy, grey-blonde hair fanning out slightly as you ducked your head in shame. 

Maybe you can’t do this after all… Perhaps you can manage on your own, until you find some more supplies… Some alcohol, some tobacco… Something other than this- 

“I- I think… This was a mistake. I- I can’t-” You struggled to keep your breathing steady as you turned to walk away, only to be stopped as Enki grabbed you by the wrist. You froze, heart leaping into your throat as he squeezed you with a surprising amount of force. 

“We must do this.” You shook your head as you pressed your thighs together. 

“N-No… I- W-What are you-?!” 

A surprised cry leaves your mouth as you are pushed from behind. Enki pins your wrist behind your back, while your other arm is pinned underneath your body. Panicked, you tried to crawl away from the priest but found yourself dragged backwards towards him. A few pleas escaped from your lips, but they all fell on deaf ears. Enki forced your legs apart with one of his boney knees and pinned the other against the back of one of your knees. 

“S-Stop this-!” 

“You selfish sow-! We will both die in this place if we do not do this!” There was a twinge of… something in his words. The priest’s touches against your skin were hesitant, jerking away from you as quickly as he made contact with your body, even when it came to touching you with his gloved hands. 

“Lay still and let this be finished quickly!” 

“N-NO-!” 

“Do you wish the Girl to hear your screams? Or everything else in this godsforsaken place, for that matter?!” He hissed under his breath. From the tilted eye holes of your mask, you could just barely make out the act of lovemaking taking place just in front of you. Your face twists up and a sob escapes your lips as your bare sex is grazed by the priest’s gloved fingertips. 

“N-No! Please-! I- I’m a- a virgin-!” You cried out. The dark priest paused for a moment, pulling away from between your legs as though surprised. Your heart throbbed in your ears as you strained them, your stomach dropping as he scoffed from under his mask. 

“Perhaps your use could have been in sacrifice… but it matters not. I need another shield in this place if I am to achieve my given goal…” 

No amount of pleading reached him. Your eyes snapped wide as you felt the blunt head of something hard and hot prod directly in between your legs. You gasped, hyperventilating as Enki shuddered and drew away from you suddenly. H-Has he changed his mind?! The relief you could have felt swiftly morphed into terror and agony as he began to force himself inside of you. 

“OW-! S-STOP-! I-IT HURTS-!” 

Your eyes snap wide as a burning pain splits in your core. I-It’s hot-! Tears welled in your eyes, catching on your cheeks due to the mask pressing harshly against your face. You are flat on your stomach, toes digging into the wet ground as you attempt to push the dark priest off your body. He hisses and grunts, pinning you down by your neck as he pushes into you with all his strength. As frail as he is, he has more than enough strength to take advantage of you in this position, and all you can do is sob as your body tries to reject the foreign object thrusting into it against your will. 

Enki grunts as he wrenches your arm further behind your back, twisting it so you cry out in pain. You gasp and choke on your breath every time he hits a certain spot inside of you, sobbing as it becomes easier and easier for him to use you with each passing moment. He- He took it from you… Just like that? Was it really that easy…? You manage to yank your arm from underneath you, blindly groping around for some way to pull yourself away from this utter humiliation and pain. 

“S-Stop… S-Stop i-it… O-Oww… Oww…!” Your voice cracked as Enki’s movements became sharper and less defined. A pair of legs catch your eye, and you reach out to them, weeping and hoping beyond hope that their owner would somehow save you. 

“P-Please-! PLEASE! H-HELP-! M-MMPFFH-?!” 

To your utter shock and horror, the masked man grabbed your chin and pulled your head up, not as a means to assist you, but so he could shove his erect cock into your partially exposed mouth. Instantly, you splutter, choking as you are gagged repeatedly, both from the sudden intrusion into your mouth and the pain in your lower abdomen. You screw your eyes shut, pressing your palm into his bare hip but he only manages to deepen his place in your mouth as Enki grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up to your knees. 

“M-MMPFH-! PFFF-! GLUGH-! GLUG-! URGH-!!!” 

Your shoulders droop as you are defiled from both the front and from behind. The pain in your legs was a constant, throbbing ache, but it was dulling gradually, until you began to feel something that was very nearly pleasant. The dark priest released your arm and only held you by your hair, pulling it taut as though the thought of touching you any further was a direct affront to him. You could only screw your eyes shut, breathing only when you had a precious few moments when a cock wasn’t shoved down your throat to the hilt. Your jaw was beginning to ache from strain, and a choked squeak left your mouth as the pressure that had been building in your stomach was suddenly reaching a breaking point.

Please make it stop! Sylvian… Alll-mer… PLEASE-! 

You tried to push the masked man in your mouth away from you, but it only deepened Enki’s thrust, and caused your back to arch and your knees to buckle. The priest had to hold your hair tightly, pulling it so harshly that you were forced upright. The other man grabbed the sides of your face and kept his pace steady, his cock hot and throbbing, much like Enki’s that was flush deep inside of your womanhood. You need to get away… This needs to stop… It has to stop! 

A soft pant behind you and a sudden stilling of the dark priest’s hips was your only cue that anything had happened. You almost didn’t feel it, as an incessant, buzzing pleasure had overtaken your nethers and caused your mind to become fuzzy and unfocused. Enki hisses behind you, quickly removing himself from you and leaving your newly deflowered hole leaking bloody cum. He shudders, quickly stepping away as he goes to redress himself. You don’t realize that he’s left, or that you are now bobbing your head up and down all on your own, no longer held in place by him or the man thrusting into your mouth. Large, warm hands touch your hips, and before you collect yourself enough to protest, you are penetrated once again. 

Enki was disgusted but he couldn’t deny that he was refreshed. All his pains gone, his hunger, fatigue, both mental and physical… Yes, praise Sylvian… He looked over to the pile of clothing that belonged to you and scoffed as he went to scan the rabbit’s copulating fields for you and why you hadn’t returned yet.

Huh… 

Well… Isn’t this a surprise? 

A virgin indeed… With her ass up and virginal blood still staining her thighs as she’s fucked from the front and back… Again. You weren’t even fighting it, anymore, allowing the masked men to fuck you as they pleased with no complaint whatsoever. Enki watches from afar, fingers holding his chin thoughtfully as he watches the man fucking you from behind sensually pound into you, once, twice, three times before pulling away. Thick globules of cum leak out of your used hole as you continue to bob your head up and down, slurping loud enough that Enki could hear it clearly before you were pulled onto the man’s lap. 

You didn’t fight it when he lined his cock up with your entrance and slowly sank your body down onto it. You slowly began to spear yourself down his shaft, taking another thick cock into your hand and guiding it to your mouth as a nearby man silently offered it to you. The man underneath you matched your movements, your breasts bouncing with every thrust until he cupped them both with his hands and pinched your nipples in between his fingers. 

Over and over again, you let them use you, until you were a mess of cum from head to toe. You said nothing as you eventually pulled yourself up, just as you did when you tried to clean yourself up and put your clothing back on. Enki made it no secret that he witnessed it all, and though the Girl embraced you just as she always did whenever you returned to her sight, you can’t help but to wonder if she distanced herself from you, as though she knew that you were no longer pure in the eyes of Alll-mer and instead tainted with the sin of Sylvian: lust. 

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[ohsweetiep1e]

-Sub Charlie Walker NSFW alphabet

CONTENT WARNING 16+ nsfw under the cut

warnings - expect everything there’s to much to type

A - After care (what they’re like after sex)

- the most caring person you’ve ever met although if he’s the one getting fucked(which is almost always) he becomes a baby after

- you’ll have to clean him up and get him water of course you wouldn’t mind but he’ll get teary eyed if you take more then five minutes to come back and cuddled

B - Body part (favorite body part of theirs, yours..)

- on you it’s definitely your thighs, on him it’s his hands for sure

- begs you to let him cum on your thighs, wants to fuck your thighs, and he lovessss to watch you cum around his fingers

C - cum (anything to do with cum)

- He finds it so hot if you’ll kiss him after he cums in your mouth

- LOVES cumming in you (dude has a breeding kink that he won’t admit)

D - Dirty secret (a secret they have)

- He has a secret hair pulling kink that he thinks he hides but doesn’t

- One time you made out with him and laced your fingers in his pretty brown hair and tugged and he whined so loud

- is to scared to ask you to do it again but every time he thinks about it he gets hard

E - Experience (how much experience do they have)

- let’s face it he runs a movie club you were his first time doing more then kissing

F - Favorite thing (their favorite thing)

- Charlie loves being pegged (oop)

- especially face down ass up just sayin he begssss for it

G - Goofy (are they serious during sex)

- he’s very serious because he’s nervous and definitely goes into subspace

H - Horny (how they let you know they’re horny)

- He’ll come up behind you and hug you and grind

I - intimacy (are they intimate)

- My mans is a whore

J - Jerk off (how often do they do it)

- He’s a pretty innocent person unless it’s with you

- So i would say maybe one tike every 8 days probably

- He’s also the very slow type of edging teasing himself kind of person

K - Kinky (something kinky about them)

- Obviously he’s a bottom and stuff but i feel like he’s really into bondage

- not the handcuffs kind of bondage like tie his hands and feet to the bed cross his arms over his chest and tie him there

L - Location (where they like to do it)

- He’s not a risky person so anywhere at home obviously the bed

- also likes when you bend him over the counter and peg him

M - Motivation (turn ons)

- Ass

- Tittys

- you being a nerd

- you letting him be a nerd

- winking at him

- everything you do

- touching his ears

N - No (turn offs)

- hurting you

- don’t think he’s a fan of femafication

O - Oral (giving,receiving)

- He’s a sloppy giver , spit everywhere wet sloppy it’s great but he’ll have spit and all of your wetness dripping down his mouth

- Fucks up into your face everytime you give him head so whiny and needy about it no matter how many times you’ve done it

P - Position (their favorite position)

- If he’s taking the dick he wants to be bent over or face down ass up

- also likes missionary

Q - Quirk (a little quirk of theirs)

- He’ll come so fast if you slap him anywhere while your fucking

R - Rough (are they rough or gentle)

- He likes it rough but if he’s on top he’s so sweet and gentle

S - Specialty (what they’re good at )

- He has those long boney fingers so of course fingering

- One time he made you cum over four times in one sitting with just his hands

T - Toys (do they have em? do they use em?)

- Strap ons in many sizes

- Vibrators too

- also a lot of rope and cuffs and lots of things for bondage

- He begs you to use them on him literal in tears begging

U - Unfair (are they a tease?)

- He doesn’t tease you he knows better

- Tease him tho he loves it

V - Volume (what they sound like )

- so fucking loud he’s a whiner and a begger half the time he doesn’t even know what he’s begging for

- ball gag him he’s so loud

W - Wild Card (a random head cannon)

- wants to be choked because of the scary movies

X - X ray (what do they got going on)

- 7 and a half inches

- kinda skinny

- he has a large vein running from the bottom and it curves up the side

- pretty pink tip could be a lipstick shade

Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

- INCREDIBLY

- wants to fuck 12 times a week

zzz - (how quickly they sleep after)

- After your both clean and okay he’s out instantly getting his brains fucked out takes him out

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Bucky finds DomSub porn on Steve's search history and asks him about it.

At first Bucky thinks Steve is the one who wants to Dom. A very confusing discussion follows.

Bucky hasn't bottomed since before Steve and him have been together, atleast 80 odd years. But he'd be willing to try if that's what Steve's found he's into-

And a very bright red and sputtering Steve has to admit that, no.. he wants to be dominated. He wants to take it up the ass with restraints and praise.

Immediately Bucky is much more attached to the idea. Despite the fact that their roles in the bedroom have always been somewhat akin to these things Steve's been reading and watching, he never even considered.. oh god this is something he really wants too. Suddenly he's kind of drooling at the idea of this step up in dynamics.

Just picturing Steve tied up, whimpering and whining, bright red all over and blissfully out of his mind. Jesus.

They have a long road ahead of them lmao

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Yeah, yeah, yeah-!

There's a trope in your ask that I feel like appears pretty often in stucky fanfics, the whole we've-been-doing-this-since-before-there-was-a-name-for-it. Which, I'm unsure if it would be true because, well, I'm sure they would have called power dynamics something and the words have simply changed over time, but I haven't done enough research to know what. Or, it could've been completely true because they might have been cut off from any community that could have told them a name for that, so it would've been just something between the two of them, a way they played that they were unsure if anyone else did at all, and they didn't stop to put a name to it. Either way, it's definitely interesting.

Like, Bucky has been roughing Steve up since they were boys. He was the only one who respected Steve and didn't treat him like glass. Bullies were one thing, spitting on him and beating him, well-meaning adults were another thing, tiptoeing around him and worrying over his always ailing body, and Bucky something completely unique.

gif by the-girl-without-a-face

Bucky would wrestle him on the floor admist the shrieks and chanting and boney ankles of his younger sisters in the Barnes' home, Bucky wouldn't go easy on him in gym class but wasn't picking him out and wailing on him either, treating him as fair, worthy competition, and Bucky, as they got older, would kiss him like he wasn't afraid. He would pull Steve in for vicious kisses the moment they were alone that felt almost bruising against Steve's buzzing lips, their mouths meeting so fiercely. He would drag his teeth over Steve's bottom lip, unconcerned with the outside world and anything they may have to say about why Steve's lips are suddenly so swollen and wet after being locked in a bedroom with only one other person. Another young man.

Bucky didn't care about the suspicion of others over Steve's split lip, Steve's bruised flesh, or Steve's panting, soft moans that might overflow from their apartment. Partly because he just didn't fucking care, he cared about Steve too much to care about much anything else, and partly because he knew Steve could hold his own. Steve was not only strong enough to take it but stubborn enough to enjoy it.

And farther, Steve was strong enough to resist anything anyone said about him. That split lip? Nah, it wasn't from being pinned underneath Bucky, kissing until the fragile flesh of his mouth split and ran red. It was just from another fight, and you should see the other guy. He got it worse. Those bruises, just about the size of the tip of someone's finger? Huh. Must be from yet another confrontation or from smacking his boney body on corners and tables and doorframes. His balance isn't so good, and his skin is so thin and finicky, y'know? Anything makes him bruise. Anything that isn't, certainly, Bucky's strong, work-calloused hands digging into him as he fucks him without mercy, no, that'd be preposterous. Speaking of fucking, those little sounds, sweet and breathy, choked out from the Barnes-Rogers, Rogers-Barnes bare-bones bachelor pad? Those aren't anything to worry about. They come at night because that's when Steve's getting ready for bed and arranging his sheets and his dust allergy kicks up as well as when his asthma bothers him most, his lungs tired after a whole days worth of breathing. Those are the choked sounds of trying to get enough air. They absolutely are not the muffled sounds of pleasure from taking whatever Bucky dishes out and expects him to take, making his eyes go hazy and unfocused, rolling back into his head while his mouth drops open, leaving Bucky with no choice but to slap a hand over his stupid, pretty face to keep him quiet.

Yeah.

Bucky doesn't go easy on Steve. Why would he? Steve responds so fucking well to that roughness.

Oddly, nothing makes him more compliant than just a little roughing up. He'll fight back, sure, but he doesn't actually want to win their wrestling match or want Bucky to stop. He just wants to add to the anticipation. He wants to make Bucky earn it. He wants to egg Bucky on, get him to let go that last little bit, and really wail on him. That's what gets Steve limp and moaning all breathy, his eyelashes fluttering softly, his heart slowly circulating his blood, pushing it down, down, down between his legs.

And as much as they don't talk about it, not really, during that time before the war--or even during the war later, when Bucky and Steve let the violence of the war front bleed into their own games but in a much more tender, caring way that spoke of their bonds, not of their differences like the troop mentalities of us vs them--they don't talk about it worse when Bucky first comes back.

Steve doesn't talk because he doesn't know what Bucky remembers, and he doesn't want to push him away if he doesn't remember and it's too much for him. He won't pressure him. If Bucky doesn't want to be together, at all, anymore, then they won't be. If Bucky doesn't want to be with him, like that, anymore, then they won't be. Steve would never dream of pushing Bucky into that dynamic again if he doesn't want it.

Bucky doesn't talk because, yes, at first, those days have yet to resurface through the murky, silt-heavy waters of his subconscious, not settled out to a clear lake. But, eventually, memory in mind, back where it should be, Bucky doesn't talk because he doesn't know how to broach the topic. Steve always did that. Steve goaded him and encouraged it, directly or, most often, indirectly--not using his words but letting his shivers of pleasure, heavily-lidded eyes, and low, soft sounds of lust talk for him. Bucky isn't sure how to ask if they're real memories, just fantasies, or how to ask if Steve still wants it that way.

Steve really fucking wants it.

But, again, Steve's stubborn. Once they are together again, officially, and once they are being intimate again, it's enough. Wholeheartedly. Steve will take that and nothing more and not truly complain about a thing. Having an itch in the back of his mind is nothing compared to the gaping, festering wound he once harbored, thinking his lover was dead. He can deal with it. More than "deal," he will thrive with it. But...

As stubborn as Steve is, he's curious, too. He can't leave anything alone. He can't turn a blind eye. He can't pretend. So, when he can finally stomach thinking of intimacy again because Bucky is back and they're having it, cuddling and sex and everything between, Steve starts to get curious. He's thinking more and more about how they used to act.

Did anyone else do that before?

Does anyone else do that now?

Yes.

The answer to both is yes.

They did.

They do.

Steve goes looking, and he finds.

He finds a wealth of names for those kinds of practices--all kinds of people from all different backgrounds, genders, and sexualities mixing wanted, pleasurable meanness and violence and bite with loving affection. Kink. BDSM. (Which, BDSM, is a name that carries names it of itself, fascinatingly enough. Bondage and discipline. Domination and submission. Sadism and masochism.) Power dynamics. Power play. Roleplay. Total power exchange. Dom/sub. Authority kinks. Master/slave. Pain play. Daddy/boy. Competency kinks. Etc. Etc.

All those different words for it live in Steve's search history, and it lives in real people who really do this stuff and really enjoy themselves. They describe liking it, loving it, needing it. Just like Steve liked it, loved it, and needed it when Bucky gave him those things, although, ultimately, in a less organized way than in the way presented to him online, discussing limits, both hard and soft, having negotiations before most every "scene", and employing safewords. Those all sound smart. They were definitely uninformed back then but also just young and reckless.

Overall, though, it's enough to know it exists. Steve isn't really planning on doing anything about it. Not yet, at least. He wants to savor what he's just won back for a while longer before altering it in any way. But...

Bucky borrows his laptop when his own is charging up from dead, and Steve didn't think to delete his history because it's his laptop? He knows what he was looking at, and he doesn't care if he sees it again, in fact, he might want to. He may want or need to retrace his digital tracks. So--

"Steve?"

All of that old, roughing-up they used to do bubbles up to the surface again.

They'll have a conversation about it. They will. Eventually. But... the way Steve colors that perfect, sweet pink once Bucky turns the laptop around to show him a web page about the history and origins of erotic bondage, well, there's not much that can be done. Bucky is done in. That blush. That fucking blush heats Bucky up like a summer sunset, setting off humid, thick arousal but also awe.

His baby is pretty.

And he remembers, vividly--sprawled like a Renaissance painting across the back of his eyelids in his mind's eye--how pretty he was curled up into all kinds of twisted, pretzel shapes with the help of Bucky's soft neckties, elastic suspenders, or worn, butter-smooth belt. How pretty he was gasping for air while Bucky pumped deep inside him, fucking him and holding his bird-boned wrists above his head in one clenched fist to keep those trouble making fingers outta his way. How pretty he was with his big blue eyes wide and wet with tears, pleading through uneven hiccuping sobs to please, please, please finally be able to cum after a whole afternoon spent laid out on their thin, old mattress, told he couldn't move an inch, or they'd be done--struggling to obey instinctively, his body aching for pleasure, but wanting to obey regardless. How pretty he was being good. How pretty he was submitting.

Bucky's mouth is dry as a desert, just thinking about those dust-covered memories. He licks his lips, rifling through his own body to decide how he feels. Steve tracks the movement with a distinct, familiar kind of embarrassment in his blue eyes. Bucky feels very, very aroused.

"Yeah?" Steve finally replies, his voice hoarse. Rough and feral.

In response, Bucky's voice comes out dripping with his usually faded accent, "go get me a belt."

Steve's jaw drops. Although, before Bucky can reel himself back in, his words, no, his demand swallowed back down into his chest where it's more appropriate, more private, Steve is scurrying off as obedient as a lap dog.

A grin twists itself onto Bucky's lips.

Steve returns, panting, he zipped to the bedroom and back with everything he has. Eager little punk. But, he is holding a belt.

It's one of Bucky's, no surprise there. Old habits die hard, Bucky supposes.

They have plenty of belts to choose from these days, belts for different occasions from hanging around the house to fancy charity events, belts of different styles to fit every occasion and every kind of pant, belts on belts on belts, belts for the both of them. But, the belt Steve selected is Bucky's oldest. And it's the most familiar. The very thing he owned in the 30s before everything was war rationed. Thick, smooth, flexible leather that's been beat to shit, so much wear and love to it. The hole punched through it that Bucky uses a little looser than all the rest.

Bucky takes it from him, and Steve whimpers.

An answering chuckle finds its way out of Bucky, pulled up from the same depths as his arousal. Deep, thudding--throbbing. He hasn't even done anything yet, and here is his little dolly, all pink, slack-jawed, and making cute sounds for him.

"Wrists, behind your back, darlin'," Bucky murmurs.

Steve spins in a tight circle and crosses both hands over the small, small of his big, broad back, holding them together.

Bucky lovingly loops the leather of his belt around Steve's wrists once, twice, enjoying the goosebumps that lift over Steve's skin immensely. It pleases the animal inside him, wanting this more than he knows how to deal with.

Easy as breathing, once he's got Steve's wrists bound, he puts his boy on his knees between his knees. Steve's laptop pushed to the other end of the couch and forgotten, completely forgotten.

Nothing exists but Steve.

So fucking pretty.

Blonde hair that begs to be stroked and pulled. A blush spilled like expensive, sugary wine across his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, slowly running down to his square jaw and swallowing throat. Blue eyes getting darker with every tension-filled moment that passes between them, shaded by unreal lashes that Bucky knows get even more obscene when painted with cum. Dripping and heavy. Soaked. Lips plush and unreal. All of him. His crooked nose. Every bit of him.

Bucky strokes his smooth, smooth jaw and zeros in on the way his lips quiver, so close to begging already.

Maybe he can take it easy on him this one time, hm? It has been a long, long time...

"You want it?" Bucky husks out, tracing the tips of his fore- and middle fingers from the hinge of his killer jaw to the plush pillow of his fat bottom lip.

Steve nods urgently, but his lips dropping open is more than enough of an answer.

An answer and a request that Bucky fulfills eagerly, shoving two fingers into Steve's mouth and pressing down on his tongue, letting him have a taste of the weight, and feeling his hot mouth flood with saliva. Wet.

Desperate hunger.

Bucky pushes deeper, relishing in the way the smaller, more uniform taste buds at the center of his tongue give way to larger, vaguely rougher ones at the very back and how that turns into nothing but the slick, velvet-soft inside of his throat. His throat contracts and hugs his fingers even as he sputters around a gagged moan.

Good fucking god.

"Yeah," Bucky talks down to his blushing, restrained yet squirming boy, choking on his fingers, eyes full of glassy, pretty tears, "you want it."

Steve moans that much harder, straining his neck to get more, trying to have his fingers deeper, deeper until his teeth dig hard into Bucky's knuckles.

"Don't worry, baby," Bucky hears himself coo, a low, syrupy tune that goes well with the jingle of his belt, undoing it one handed to get his dick out. If Steve wants to be tied down and have his mouth filled up, then that's what he'll get. Bucky can spend as much time as Steve wants--as much as he needs pounding down into his tight throat, making him take it, wearing him down to rivers of tears of pleasure, and leaving him limp everywhere except where it counts, so drunk on being used that he doesn't have a lick of fight left in him. He's so easy and hard for being a nice, wet hole. Always was. Always will be.

[thatmonsterfuckerguy]

3 male feral ghouls (literally, NOT the Fallout type)

Warnings: smut, more than one ghoul fucking the reader and claiming him as a mate, cum, cum consumption, oral, rough fucking, primal kink, the reader is being fucked by very undead ghouls, not conventionally pretty men

It was mating season for ghouls, but not all of them would get lucky. There were always a few males left behind. Three of said males had decided to band together for emotional support, but they grew desperate.

You were in your room, watching porn and masturbating when, to your dismay, the power went out. You went out of your room to go get a flashlight. Your annoyance was short-lived when you heard a crash from one of your windows. You froze. You began to hear hoarse cries from where the crash was. Your heart sank as you came to the realisation that the cause was a pack of ghouls. You heard them rummaging through your kitchen. You tried to be as quiet as you could, creeping towards your front door carefully. Every inch of your body wanted to bolt out and run away screaming, but you barely held yourself together. It didn't help that you couldn't see anything. You were feeling your way around in the dark, trying to stay calm and not make any sudden noises. You staggered around for what felt like forever.

Suddenly, a cold, large, boney hand grabbed hold of you. You stayed perfectly still, praying it would lose interest. The ghoul let out a coo of some sort at the feeling of your warmth. It pressed its face close to you, smelling the sweat on your skin. Something in the ghoul's throat rumbled. You were trying your best not to scream, cry, throw up or piss yourself as this was happening. The ghoul gently wrapped its limbs around you and rubbed its face against yours. It gave you a lick on the cheek. Your fear began to turn into confusion. Was it being friendly? You hesitated. You slowly moved to touch the ghoul back. The ghoul let out a sort of gasp when you touched its arm. The ghoul's breath hitched.

You began to feel something poking your ass. The ghoul held you tighter, but not uncomfortably, and began to buck its hips against you as it let out what sounded like whimpering and whining. The ghoul licked your neck slowly, sending shivers down your spine. You hadn't gotten to finish yourself off earlier. Both you and the ghoul were dying for a good, hard fuck. You pulled down your pants and spread your front hole to make sure the ghoul wouldn't go in the wrong hole. The ghoul's breath hitched until it almost sounded like frequent moans. It was so desperate and needy, it couldn't stop shaking. It clumsily tried to fuck its way into your hole. You had to guide him in properly. His dick was almost uncomfortably thick and long. The ghoul let out a euphoric moan as it slid inside your warm, tight hole. The ghoul bent you over the nearest piece of furniture and began fucking into you roughly and desperately.

Both your moans attracted the attention of the other two ghouls who had been rummaging through your kitchen. The other ghouls made sounds of curiosity as they approached. One of them tried to touch you only for your mate to hiss at them to back off as he fucked into you harder and more possessively. He wrapped his arms around you to make it clear that you were his and his alone. The ghoul who had tried to touch you groaned in annoyance. The other one began to touch himself as he watched you and your mate.

His big hands almost wrapped around you entirely and he was practically using you as a fleshlight. He desperately fucked into you, occasionally accidentally slipping out and whining every time it happened. He grabbed fistfuls of your skin as he got closer. He bit into your neck for a sense of any kind of relief. You thought you felt his tears drop onto your skin. He was moaning uncontrollably. He somehow managed to fuck into you harder and faster than any human ever had. You felt his cock throbbing desperately inside you, begging for release. You were almost too tight for him to be able to release, but he loved the tease so much and he was too desperate to stop. The ghoul began to cry out loudly in an animalistic way as he got close. The thing bellowed as he came inside you at last. He came in you for a whole minute. Before he even thought of getting you off his cock, cum was pouring out of your hole and made a puddle at both your feet.

In a daze, the ghoul knelt down in between your legs and lapped you up, cleaning his mess. He suddenly noticed how sensitive your t-dick was when his long tongue had accidentally flicked it. He curiously ran his tongue over it again. He loved the way it made you squirm. It fascinated the other ghouls too.

The one that had tried to touch you earlier made his way to you, this time your mate let him approach. The two ghouls helped position you back into your breeding position against your nearest piece of furniture. This time though, the newcomer was getting ready to breed you while your previous mate settled himself between your legs to continue stimulating your t-dick with his tongue.

The third approached at last. He was luckily smaller than the other two and positioned his dick in front of your mouth. He stared at you in anticipation. You looked him in his cloudy, sunken-in eyes and started sucking him off. He let out cries of pleasure almost instantly. With that, the other two began stimulating you too. Here you were, a fat cock in your mouth, a thick cock pounding into you from the back and a long, slimy tongue coiling around your t-dick. The first ghoul's tongue worked so much better on you than any ftm stroker ever did and he made sure that your t-dick was never fully free from his tongue despite the second ghoul fucking into you like his life depended on it. The second ghoul was a lot rougher and more beastly. He pinned you down and bit into your neck as he growled. The third was trying his best not to fuck your throat too hard. The ghoul fucking you was practically digging his claws into your skin as he fucked you faster than any human ever could.

You were theirs and theirs alone. The ghouls had claimed you as their mate from that day onward. They often sniff checked your hole. Any time they felt like your hole was starting to stop smelling like them, they automatically began fucking you regardless of what you were doing. They became very protective of you too. Around humans and especially around other ghouls. They insist on sleeping together with you as a pack every night. You decided to name them since you were kinda stuck with them until they die or you die. The first one you met, you decided to name Mr Snuggles because he was the most affectionate of the bunch and you thought it was funny until he started fucking you and you absolutely did not want to moan that. You changed his name to Sugar soon after to keep the spirit of the first name and not be nearly as weird to moan while being fucked. The second, you decided to name Scout because he had a tendency to be the first to investigate anything. As for your shy third ghoul, you decided to name him Eye because he was often silently observing things in corners.