#and immediately had to write smth

[entirelytoooobsessed]

shy horny yuuta😫😫

inspired by this audio (tagged w afab reader bc speaker does mention listener being afab)

poor baby that doesn't touch himself nearly enough, taking a cold shower when he gets a boner because it's too embarrassing to touch himself.

getting all pent up until he really, really can't help it anymore.

his pretty little head going completely blank when he touches himself, voice cracking off into the whiniest little whimpers as the slick sounds of his pre-cum filling the room.

everything that's been building up slowly unravelling as the seconds tick by, every though of being used by you, of being touched by you, of being taken care of by you running rampant in a the cloudy haze of his head.

playing with his sensitive tip, imagining the way you'd touch him, imagining it was your fingers tracing along the veins of his dick, making his mind melt into mush.

the way your lips would feel around him, warm and soft and driving him absolutely insane, batting his hands away with a glare when he tries to hold your head.

he can't help himself. can't hold it in any longer.

imagining the way you'd kiss him right after, tasting the bitter tang of his own cum as your tongue presses against his, depositing into his mouth, forcing him to swallow it.

[francy-sketches]

This is the worst explanation I've ever read what 😭

[darcyolsson]

i need every wwdits watcher to accept that what we had in s3 is forever gone and that we must move on now. instead can we please discuss how we feel about guillermo's entire existence (within the story) being about wanting to become a vampire and him suddenly deciding he didnt want to be one anymore after about *checks watch* five minutes of being properly turned. all because he (a serial killer) felt bad about having to kill people

[aran-morinorea]

I am once again perched on your ceiling fan asking you about Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth

The stranger returns, with two steaming mugs and some food laid out on a slim metal tray etched with flowers. It's more food than Laurefindelë would have expected him capable of preparing in the time he was gone. He sets the tray down on his desk and gives one of the mugs to Laurefindelë - the beverage is opaque and smells of cinnamon - and takes a long drink from the other.

“So,” he says, sitting down himself, “What were you doing in my woods, traveler?”

[fourteenfifteen]

ficlet based off pld24!! big spoilers do not click unless you want to be big spoiled

also cw for discussion and depiction of death and for canon typical gross stuff (iykyk)

she doesn’t have to say it. words for a long time have not been everything for them. she steps into belgard’s hollow center, and the silks inside her shift like a sigh. “are you sure?” she asks into signet’s head.

signet reaches. takes a stretch of fabric into her hand, steps easily out into thin air and lets it catch her. the silks go to her, just barely manipulated into her hands, nothing anyone else could see.

she leans back, back, and belgard catches her. drapes around her, until everything is red silk. “they need me still.”

“they don’t have to.” the fabric ripples around her. “you can… let them figure it out. you can say no.”

signet closes her eyes. “there’s more i can do.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i know,” she says, and she does. a hard won lesson, that she could let herself be. “still. there’s- i can help. things are getting worse again.”

she breathes, steadying. “i’m worried, belgard. that they’d bring you back if they found you. the cadent thinks the same.”

instead of words, belgard gives her feelings: sympathy and sadness and a desire to reassure.

“i know you’d be okay,” signet says. “that isn’t the point. i don’t- who knows what they’d do to you. and- and none of the rest of them deserve that either. there should be a way for anyone who wants an ending to have it.”

a bit of silk stretches in to graze her cheek. “and your ending?”

“the waking cadent said,” she starts, “that she and i will have to become one being. and that i will need to die for that to happen. so some part of me-“

“right.”

“and i won’t be alone,” she says quietly. “i… i’ll want for you still. your companionship. but it won’t be like when i lost you before.”

there’s a long pause. “if you’re sure.”

~

belgard dies first. the waking cadent takes her apart, precisely powering her down and removing the parts of her that were her. belgard doesn’t feel pain exactly, but signet can feel the changes in her psyche, feel her shift and weaken down to nothing.

(it’s painful to have said their goodbyes. strange, too, when belgard’s first death had still left her semi-conscious and semi-present. she is gone, and signet can feed her absence.)

when belgard’s last sensors go down, they entomb her. the resting places they’ve set out on palisade’s moon are mostly more accessible than this, just in case there is a true emergency. for belgard, though, they put stone around her until even signet barely knows where she is. the only marker is a little gap, leading into the dark cockpit, the silks truly still for once.

after she’s gone, really gone, the waking cadent looks to signet. she reaches out a hand and in it forms a blade of ice. “are you ready, excerpt?”

“i’m not an excerpt anymore,” she says.

“of course not. you’re divine yourself.”

signet rolls her eyes. “yes, i’m ready.”

she closes her eyes. the cadent moves swiftly- signet barely feels herself be cleft in two.

~

the fleet had taken things from her before. digits and limbs and organs lost in belgard’s maintenance, detritus from her long life turned into relics. it isn’t the first time, then, that she’s come to looking through a new set of eyes. somehow, though, she can feel the difference.

are you there, excerpt? the waking cadent thinks to her.

must we use titles for each other? signet thinks back. or even names? it’s just us here.

of course. the waking cadent sounds amused. even that may be… inaccurate in its implied distinction.

her corpse looks like any other. the process of being subsumed into the waking cadent has taken longer than she expected, perhaps, because her blood and viscera has soaked into the stone a bit. her hair is matted with it.

they laboriously pick up the two halves. spare blood drips after them as they carry it over to the hole in the tomb.

any words? the waking cadent asks.

she drops the corpse in. she imagines it there, settled in among the streaming lengths of red silk like it was its nest. then, she reaches down and pulls the hatch shut.

i guess not.

[ranboo5]

Anyway [stretches] under a cut because it got Long as usual; tl;dr at the bottom

The thing abt c!Ranboo is his motivation and his actions don’t always align and that is bc of the eternal nature of c!Ranboo as living in a society and Balancing Priorities. He is always self-compromising in its relationships w/ others; more often than not when it agrees to do smth with someone it is doing it not bc it believes in the cause but because it has priorities it needs to mitigate. (Ranboo has not believed in any of the causes put forth by Someone Else in their life the closest they get is the Syndicate and even there it’s only reassured to bc it is reassured it can share opinions)

This starts off wayyyy early with it agreeing to help grief despite not really having a personal reason to do it, and with it collaborating w/ New L’Manberg even through things like the Butcher Army. It consistently does not want to be seen as In Opposition. It works with Tmmy and Techno in large part bc it doesn’t want to come off as opposed 2 them, and bc it has personal investment (+guilt) in Tmmy. Ranboo will literally act like this

- as self preservation - out of a desire to help+spare the feelings of ppl it doesn’t trust to negotiate with - especially later, so it can try to mitigate the parties it’s collaborating w/ -- if he’s involved in the effort, he has more traction 2 attempt to mitigate anything terrible it might do (even when most of the time he doesn’t manage to do this)

This is part of why he initially joined th Syndicate and this is why he worked with Wilbur over th course of the burger arc. Some combination of this is also why he works w/ Dream, smth that is frequently overlooked in Ranboo Analysis; Ranboo volitionally[1] collaborates w/ Dream despite, obviously, having a lot of Active Dislike for Dream and what he is doing, out of a combination of a) he would not want 2 frame himself as Opposed To Dream in any interaction w/ Dream, b) he is generally sympathetic and pitying, c) ideological agreement w/ some aspects of Dream’s goals, and d) desire to mitigate/stay close to Dream. Ranboo keeps his friends close and enemies closer 2 some degree

His relationship w/ Tbbo is not an exception to this it is part of the pattern. It’s just one that has much more present, personal, and consistent stakes. Ranboo complies w/ Tbbo the same way he complies w/ the Syndicate when he’s worried they’re threatening, the same way he complies w/ NLM, the same way he complies w/ Wilbur in the burger arc, th same way he complies with Tmmy early on, the same way he complies w/ Dream offscreen. This is a Known Tactic Ranboo pursues; their project is ultimately of survival and compassion and survival and compassion are both things they have to sacrifice to keep

Tbbo is a unique priority to Ranboo almost in the same way all of the aforementioned r slightly different, unique priorities; in Tubbo’s case, Ranboo is extremely invested in keeping Tbbo safe from others and from Tbbo’s own self with a particular fervor for a very long time. I’m not rehashing the entire beeduo meta here but Ranboo does have particular interest and a particular prioritization for Tbbo for a long ass time; arguably post-NLM and thru burger arc, Tbbo is its first priority bc Ranboo loves him and has convinced itself it’s the only one who can fix him and has also mostly-correctly observed that no one has really been looking out for him. Tubbo is an urgent target in Ranboo’s projects of compassion and of survival both

When those stakes r released, tho, in the burger van conversation (the “you weren’t happy before?”) Ranboo no longer has Tbbo at the same priority level irt the project of survival especially, and, despite how guilty and upset it makes them, prioritizes their 5D chess game with Wilbur instead (ironically sacrificing a solid chunk of its project of survival). Its motives @ the end of Ho16 r commonly cited as being abt Tbbo but that’s not entirely what he says and if it was Ranboo HAS the kind of analytical presence of mind to know that it Killing Himself doesn’t help Tbbo as much as it deals with Wilbur

Ho16 is abt Ranboo winning aforesaid 5D chess game; Tbbo is only part of the stakes 4 that and Mitigating Tbbo is no longer Ranboo’s top priority w/ that. Ranboo’s final monologue is more than anything reminiscent of his earlier arguments about sides and collateral. It’s part of the larger project of compassion, and it’s about the distorted version thereof tht comes with Ranboo getting stuck in its head and its machinations, too; like Tbbo is important to Ranboo and the carelessness abt Tbbo is something unacceptable but to claim Ranboo’s motivations revolve around Tubbo specifically is reductive of his other relationships and actual larger ideological motivations 

I have a problem w/ framings of this as positive/romantic devotion that amkes Ranboo better or as devotion at all bc repeatedly it is shown it makes him Worse, and is in fact the opposite of devotion it's disingenuous by nature. Ranboo is lying. This is so essential to all of this when Ranboo acts like he is in step with you specifically he is lying you are never guaranteed to be the priority. This is him at his worst, th project of compassion at its most compromised, and it’s a state that they explicitly don’t like. Ranboo does not like compromising itself and when they do that they Get Hurt (NLM and outpost arc having the most confabulation we’ve seen in Ranboo in general, Ranboo hating himself for this, Ranboo complying w/ shit like the experiments, Ranboo in all these environments where he is playing this being Constantly Markedly Afraid)

Even throughout the time period where Tbbo is technically priority #1 Tbbo is still . Priority Number One as opposed to like a genuine devotion. Tbbo having a handle on Ranboo in this way is not devotion it is fear and it is again not a mechanism tht Ranboo Only engages for Tbbo it’s just a mechanism, that again IS BAD FOR RANBOO BOTH IRT MENTAL HEALTH AND MORALITY, that has thru circumstance become one tht Tbbo is best at unintentionally activating. Ranboo Does This When You Are His Project. And When He Had A New Project Aside From His Husband That’s What He Did To Him

TL;DR

Ranboo does comply with Tubbo in various activities tht he doesn’t believe in but this isn’t ? Unique to Tbbo this is just Ranboo’s general socialmeta+ what allows it to move in the world the way it does

Ranboo cares about Tubbo deeply and this is relevant to his motivations but that’s only one part of his larger motivations

It’s also honestly not great to frame this complianceas romantic or good bc it’s actively smth that Makes Them Worse in multiple senses

It takes out a ton of Ranboo’s decision making and the negative effects thereof

Anyway stream

[1] No, one dumb as fuck line from Dream Of All People in that lame ass excuse for a finale does not negate All The Things In CRanboo’s Story including working w Dream being part of this consistent pattern, Ranboo’s story being abt agency responsibility and decision in such a way tht it is completely undercut by mind ctrl plots, Ranboo’s ideological agreement w Dream on some matters, the alliumduo parallels, and everything we do know abt the enderwalk as a concept and Ranboo how he acts in and out of it

[eowylesbian]

i looooove when people immediately tell u how much they hate something you are clearly passionate about

[liathgray]

No one asked but YROR Donnie has a scar on his nose from accidentally sliding directly into a metal support beam. Idiot forgot that most of the roads are covered in ice. He does not live it down.

[absensia-archived]

I've spoken briefly about this before and, again, it's usually something I leave in the little details of Charlotte's portrayal, but it's really been on my mind lately so I wanted to write out some of the prominent traits that continue to establish that, despite having gradually accumulated more experience, capital, and property over the years, Charlotte remains coded as working-class. It is crucial to both the narrative itself and her actual existence as a vessel for the primordial void, also known as Khaos. This means that she still has no ( legal ) credit cards and continues to thrift almost all her belongings, including her clothes, books, and furniture ( with the exception of shoes and appliances.) If you are someone who regularly meets up with Charlotte, you might begin to notice ( if you are perceptive ) that while she may be variably early, right on time, or show up in some unexpected state, she is rarely ever late and certainly never without a legitimate reason as to why. It is also not uncommon for Charlotte to juggle multiple jobs at the same time, and the only time she'll agree to a single job, at the exclusion of all other work is if she knows that that one job will be worth it. Related to this is the fact that Charlotte has a very hard time saying no to job offers; it's a habit ( read: stress response ) she is trying to unlearn, but it continues to be a struggle. Lastly, despite having successfully taken on leadership roles in the past, Charlotte expresses a strong dislike for being consigned to a "boss" role as she still much prefers to be hands on, in the action, at risk rather than sitting back and letting others do the work. She becomes restless if she finds herself "at the top" or in the position of too much obvious power; recall the adage about how it is lonely at the top, and how isolation is not something that the void's vessel can allow. She needs to be among people; she needs to be present to catalyze chaos. That being said, this doesn't mean that Charlotte simply allows herself to be treated or thrown away as a mere lackey or just another body, but that is still part of the struggle, isn't it?

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

also funny stuff bout adding socialism to the plot. did ya know that my father & brother are communists (<- post sov contradictions strikes again! they both feel like fish in water in the capitalist system, literally very good at this)

[xxwelxx]

Omg I found a picture of one of my old star pages

I’d get so bored at school I’d do this

To no one’s surprise I got really good at freehanding stars

[capricioussuns]

To answer your question, I would say that my all-time favorite TOP songs have to be:

*HeavyDirtySoul (One of my favorite songs ever period, honestly. It still gives me goosebumps every single I hear it)

*The Outside (Hey Alexa, how can a mid-tempo song about being bored still go so impossibly hard?!)

*Ode To Sleep (Tyler really is a mad scientist for pulling off the level of pure tonal whiplash you get from this song!)

*Navigating (This is a song you don't so much hear, as feel in your chest from that very first buildup to a thundering wall of drumbeats)

*Next Semester (Cue the tears)

*Jumpsuit (THE BASS!!! Enough said)

Oooh very good choices very good, ty for sharing!!

I think Navigating might be my new fave song off Clancy, but it was ATROFD last week so will it remain? Who knows. But man, their album openers pretty much always kick ass, Ode to Sleep was one of the first songs of theirs I heard, and got to experience that live. I was deeply confused by everything they had going on considering it was two guys on stage with One piano and One drum set and a fog machine, but they delivered SO hard with OtS that I become hooked instantly

Anyway thank you Josh for making sure Navigating got onto Clancy <3

[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

[fict1onallyobsessed]

OKAY OKAY COULD YOU PLEASE WRITE SMTH ABOUT SEVIKA PROTECING READER BECAUSE OF SOMETHING LIKE HERE ON THIS PIC SHE PROTECTS JINX AND ISHA??

im sorry if i wrote something wrong but english is not my first language😭🙏

OF COURSE !!!!!!! I have an idea for this...

I got a little carried away and gave you more LOL sorry

Sevika x Fem!Reader

She grabbed you before you could process the fan being turned on. Thankfully, you weren't too far from the table that protected you both, otherwise you would have been swept with the air flow violently.

Your side hurt. The shot Caitlyn took must have not only pierced your skin but the force broke your rib too. Whatever the gun was made of was strong enough to go through the stone pillar behind you partially as well.

Safe to say it hurt as fuck.

You clutched your side and winced as Sevika crouched with you in front of her, the stone table keeping you sat up, but barely. Sevika's new metal arm grabbed onto the table and kept her put, the other going to hold your side with you.

You weren't sure whether your adrenaline was keeping you lucid or if the shot wasn't truly that bad. Regardless, you didn't want to hang around much longer.

You looked up at your girlfriend, head slightly bouncing off the stone behind you as you rested it. She looked worried, and although nothing but pain was filling your sense, you found the energy to sigh and show her a small smile.

Her hair was flying around with the wind, her face showing slight worry and mostly focus as she tried to keep you both behind the table.

"You'll be fine." She mouthed, and you couldn't do much more but nod. You trusted her. You believed her...but the blood slowly seeping through the cracks of your fingers, and onto her hand covering yours, it was looking more like you were not going to be fine.

The wind seemed everlasting and the longer you sat there, waiting for it to stop, the dizzier you became.

You wanted to see Sevika's face for as long as you could. Taking in her scowl of concentration, the barely noticeable glint of nervousness in her eye when she met yours, the shiny scar across her cheek.

You thought she was leaning down to get out of the wind more, but instead she leaned down to your ear and spoke through the loud fan.

"Don't look at me like that." She spoke it as a command as her hand squeezed your bleeding side.

"Like what?" You scoffed quietly, immediately feeling the burn in your rib.

"Like you're about to say goodbye. You're fine."

You hummed and looked back up at her when she pulled away, leaving no room for discussion.

She was so gorgeous, holding you, protecting you, as if you were about to disappear any minute.

Your head spun so much you didn't even notice the fan turn off. Sevika lifted you off the ground and instructed Jinx, who was also carrying a girl, where to go. It all came out as muffled to you though, as the blood loss slowly stared winning, and you passed out.

When you woke up, the first thing you saw was two heads looking down at you. Jinx's braids tickled your nose, while the other girls hair wasn't even long enough to reach her eyebrows. You groaned, immediately going in to hold your side as a reflex to find it bandaged.

"I told you to let her rest." Sevika's voice rung out in a disappointed tone as she walked in with a bunch of fresh bandages in her hand. Presumably for you.

You were in Silco's office, laid down on his sofa. The table was covered with medical supplies, alcohol bottles and jinx's crafts, but your eyes ended up laying upon Sevika. Her worried expression had you worried.

"How are you feeling?" Sevika asked, looking down at you as she put the obnoxious amount of wraps on the table.

"Trust you to get shot." Jinx scoffed playfully as she stared down at you, knowing damn well that bullet was meant for her. "Took it like a champ though!"

You chuckled back and attempted to sit up, but Sevika was faster and pushed you back down, shaking her head.

"I'm fine." You spoke, but Sevika wouldn't relent. She kept you laying down as she changed your bandages carefully. Your eyes fell from Sevika onto the little girl who was still staring down at you. "Who would have thought Jinx took in a stray. What's your name?"

"Her name is Isha. She's sticking around." Jinx replied matter-of-factly, a small smirk on her face as she said it. It made you giggle a bit.

"Alright, out." Sevika stood up from crouching beside you as she finished your bandages. Jinx took Isha and left, excited to show her some of her trinkets to get her mind off of...recent events. "She needs to rest."

"I'm alright." You spoke, reaching out for Sevika's hand to help you up. "How bad was it?"

"Bad enough to have me worried." She sighed, sitting beside you and letting you lean on her.

"Sorry." You sighed back, almost identically. "And you know, thank you."

She wrapped her hand around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

"Anytime."

[kolsmikaelson]

AND THEN THERE WERE THREE…

NOTES — just saw challengers today and absolutely needed to write smth for these two! only used a gif of art because theres none of the two of them and almost none for patrick </3, i’m a little rusty with smut so bare with me

WARNINGS — 18+ content mdni, slight challengers 2024 spoilers, fem!reader, kinda dom!art, pure smut/little plot, art/patrick interactions, talk of previous art/patrick sexual encounters, spit play, oral (m receiving), tit sucking, dirty talk, mentions of anal, little bit of aftercare, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything!

REQUEST — Pls write a smut fic with reader and Art fucking in the hotel room (with Patrick watching) and reader asking if Patrick can join them and ofc Art can’t say no because he finds the idea of this super hot. Maybe reader makes Art and Patrick make out like in the movie 👀

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post

None of you were too sure how exactly this had started. You, Art, and Patrick had stumbled back into their hotel room after leaving the beach, each of you finding your own place to sit after Patrick opened up a beer, took a swig, and passed the can to you. You’d taken a seat closer to Art, having naturally gravitated towards him more so than Patrick. And quickly, you and Art were making out, leaving Patrick to watch. 

You blamed the beer. And the fact that you found both Art and Patrick incredibly hot. One minute you’re at a party, dedicated to your best friend, Tashi Duncan, and the next you’re sitting on the beach being invited back to the guys’ hotel room, and the next after that, Art is stripping you of your clothes while Patrick takes a seat leaned up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed. 

“Can I-” He begins, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, desperation clear in his eyes. At your nod, Art quickly yanks your shirt over your head and immediately pulls your body flush against his. He’s planting soft, wet kisses up and down your neck as his fingers work the back of your bra. His eyes widen the moment it drops to the ground. 

Giving you a moment's glance he quickly sucks one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting. Feeling as though he’s neglected the other one, he pinches and tugs on the opposite nipple, smiling around the one in his mouth at the moans you let out. 

“Yeah, baby? You like this? Me with your tits in my mouth and my best friend jerking off while watching us?”

For a moment, you’d forgotten about Patrick. Your eyes shoot open, landing on him instantly. The sight of him, slouched against the wall, his hand already wrapped around his cock, with his eyes fixated on both you and Art. He looked so hot, you weren’t sure how you’d forgotten that he was even there. 

“Mhm, ‘s hot.” you admitted, turning Arts face back to you, tugging his bottom lip back into your mouth. The blond pushes you back onto the beds that were pushed together - Patrick’s idea if anyone were to ask - and begins kissing up your stomach only stopping long enough to kiss each of your nipples. He grabs your face, pushing his fingers into your cheeks, making you open your mouth, before letting a large glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours. 

“Swallow.” He smiles when you do so without complaint, even going as far as to look as if you wanted him to do it again. 

Patrick moans at that, louder than before. Sure he and Art had messed around before, when they were both single and bored and needed a good fuck, that wasn’t new, but hearing that commanding tone in the blonds voice sent a shiver down his spine. 

“God, that was hot.” Patrick sighs, laughing when Art gives him the finger. 

“Fuck off, Patrick.” Both of them know he doesn’t mean it, if he wasn’t wanted there, you or Art would’ve said something, but you didn’t. whether Art knew it or not, both you and he wanted him to stay, and keep watching.

At some point during that interaction, you weren’t sure when exactly, Art had shed his pants and underwear. He was dragging the tip up and down your slit, up and down, stopping every few seconds to slap your clit with it. When your eyes finally landed on his length, it made your jaw drop. He was big, bigger than you’d seen before, he was long and girthy with veins running along the bottom of it. 

He slowly slides into you, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. He’d never seen anyone look so angelic. The closest comparison he could make was how Patrick looked when he’d first given him a blow job. He wouldn’t call the look on Patrick's face angelic perse, but it was hot, really hot. The reminder of that, and the way you’ve begun clenching around him, spurs him into you. His hips snapping into yours, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. It was unlike anything either of you had felt before. 

I want him to join.

You weren’t sure that the words had actually left your mouth until the blond on top of you stopped his thrusts, looking into your eyes for a moment. 

“That what you want, baby?” He murmurs, kissing sloppily up and down your neck, shivers running through your entire body at his touch. His fingers falling to your clit, flicking at it. The pleasure was almost enough to make you forget that he’d even asked a question. 

Almost. 

“Please,” Even in your fucked out state, you couldn’t help but want more. 

“Come on, Zweig. You heard her.” Patrick grins, hopping to his feet, although slightly hesitant. He wasn’t sure where to go, or what to do. But his nerves dissolved the moment Art turned around, and gave him that look, one that he knew meant that everything would be okay. It meant that he just needed to get over himself and have a good time, everything would work out. After that he’s on the move towards you, giving Art a harsh slap to the ass as he goes past him, laughing when Art swats back at him. 

Patrick all but flies onto the bed, having kicked his underwear off the moment he stood up, and his shirt is long gone, a mix of yours, his, and Arts clothes are scattered around the hotel room, sure to have lost at least one thing. But none of you had it in you to care, too overwhelmed with pleasure. Your mouth opens before he’s even fully on the bed, but he gets the message, quickly positioning his tip in front of your mouth, thrusting a few times before losing control and fucking your throat. 

The three of you move in tandem for minutes, or maybe it was hours, Art would thrust into you, rubbing your clit with his fingers, while Patrick would be pulling himself out of your mouth at the same time. It felt as though this was a regular occurrence, as though it were normal. And god did you hope it would become a normal thing. The three of you, together, making each other feel good. 

Tapping Patricks thigh lightly, you hum happily when he pulls out of your mouth, giggling at how quickly he begins to check and make sure you’re okay. 

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The words come out of his mouth at lightning speed and it’s difficult for you to understand, but Art had and his thrusts slowed to a stop, hands leaving your body, giving you a questioning look as if repeating everything his friend had just said. 

“I’m fine baby,” And then you say something neither of them could quite hear. 

“Gotta speak up for us, sweetheart. Can’t do what you want us to do otherwise.” That comes from Patrick, Art nodding along with him. 

“Want you two to kiss.” The words fly out of your lips and you’re suddenly shy, pressing your face into Patricks thigh, nipping at it softly. 

Both men smirk at you before making eye contact with each other, giving a subtle nod. 

“Well c’mon man, you know how I like it.”

The combination of Arts words, his sudden thrusts and Patrick taking it upon himself to flick at your clit, push you over the edge. The power of your orgasm makes your legs shake, your mind empty of anything this isn’t you, Patrick, or Art. 

They’re still kissing, it’s all teeth and tongue and spit. It’s messy, and it only stops long enough for Arts mouth to fall open, moans spilling out as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of his come flooding your insides, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. 

At this point, Patrick has taken a step back, and is watching again. He’s stroking himself with one hand, squeezing just right and out of nowhere, Art reaches out, cupping the dark haired man's balls, tugging and rubbing on them just the way Patrick likes. The added pleasure sends him crashing over the edge, he barely has the time to move and aim his cum to where you and Art are connected, spilling himself all over your cunt and Arts cock. 

Art pulls out and the three of you fall into a pile of heavy breathing, sweat, spit, and cum on the beds pushed into the middle of the room. Once you all catch your breath, Patrick is the first to speak. 

“Wow.” It was simple, but it made you all burst out laughing. 

“Wow, indeed.” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his pec, turning to do the same to Art. 

“That was fucking hot.” Arts words make you all giggle yet again. 

“Okay,” Patrick leans you into Art and pushes himself off of the bed, “‘m gonna get you two cleaned up, be right back.” He reassures you, hearing you whine at losing his presence. He comes back with a warm washcloth in hand, and a small cup of water in his other. He hands the water to Art motioning for him to take a drink and then give you some as well, while he bends at the waist, resting his knees on the floor and taking the cloth to your core, cleaning you as gently as he could before moving onto Art. Tossing the cloth to the corner of the room he pulls both you and Art into his embrace, enjoying the quiet for a moment before you break the silence. 

“Round two? Whoever makes me cum harder gets to fuck me here first.” You smile slyly, placing your hand on your ass, giggling when Patrick snatches you from Arts hold, muttering something about how he ‘got you first last time and that it’s his turn now.’

[chuulyssa]

──── ★ DRUGS SUCK IT UP LIKE VANILLA ICYS the recruiter x reader ────

starring the recruiter x detective!reader count 2.3k genre 18+ dark themes, yandere, stalking, kidnapping, gunplay, smut

notes I'LL KEEP EDITING THIS AND ADDING MORE SHIT WHENEVER I GET HORNY !!! make sure to keep tapping in lol notes wanted to write smth non horny but gong yoo just had to deepthroat that gun 🙂‍↔️ wrote this at 2am and i have my practicals tmr

You had no idea when you had lost track of him. One minute, you had been following his step through the bustling train station, and the next, your vision had blurred, and a sharp pain had shot at the base of your skull.

You didn’t know how long it had been since then. You opened your eyes, immediately shutting them back due to the sudden appearance of light to them. The scent of cigarette smoke filled your nostrils, and your tongue tasted blood.

You wriggled, trying to move your arms, but your hands had been tied behind your back, ankles tied to the legs of the chair you had been made to sit on. You opened your eyes once more. The room was dim with a single light bulb flickering on and off again and again.

“Detective,” a voice cooed at you from behind you.

You snapped your neck up to see his face smiling gleefully, staring down at you with a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Imagine my surprise,” he continued, moving away to stand in front of you, “when I realized the pretty lady that had been following me all this while,” he leaned against what you could make out to be a wooden table, “was you.”

His smirk was maddening. You remembered it from all those years ago. The handsome man in a suit, way too overdressed to meet you where he had. The man who had approached you when you were hopelessly drunk in a children’s park, crying about an unsolved case. He had wiped your tears back then, kissed your fears away. You still recall his words.

“Since we’re in a children’s park, how about a children’s game?”

Thank god for the polite refusal of yours, or you would’ve been in the same position as your current client. Seong Gihun. For whom you had been trailing this man for weeks now. The Recruiter.

“Hello? Earth to you, miss?” He snapped his fingers in front of your dazed face, making you jump at the sudden sound. He laughed at you. Then, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the floor, he mocked you. “I had such high hopes for you back then, sweetheart. But you said no,” he pouted, then cackled maniacally at your expression. “I got a kiss though!”

“Shut up,” you hissed.

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing throughout the small room. Your eyes darted around to check for windows or exits, but you couldn’t find any in the pale lighting. “Aw, you want me to let you go? After you’ve been my little shadow for the past month?”

You looked away, and he only smirked, walking towards you. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it upwards to catch your attention. “You look at me while we’re speaking. Don’t you have manners, love?”

“Don’t call me that,” you scoffed.

“Oh, you don’t want me to call you that? Is that right, love?” He jeered. When you scowled at him, he dropped his smirk. “Oh, come on now. We both know you’re not going anywhere. Come, let’s have a chat, shall we?”

He sat on the floor, his toes lifting him off the ground by themselves. The soles of his shoes clinked, tilting up so that he was mostly leaning onto you.

“It’s so flattering,” he began, “that you spent so much time trying to follow me all this time later. Am I that captivating, Miss Detective?”

“No.”

“Ah, but you are, certainly,” he nuzzled his face into your lap, making you squirm. You tried to close your thighs, but the restraints didn’t allow you to. “I’ve been dreaming of you ever since I saw you that night.”

He hummed, his knees going down to support his stance. He moved his hands to caress the front of your waist softly. “I cried because you were crying. So don’t cry over anything other than me, hm? It makes me so upset.”

He unbuttoned your pants swiftly, and you flinched. He looked up, amused at your reaction. You glared at him, refusing to speak, but the look in your face, the desire in your eyes, even the wetness he could practically smell betrayed you. He tilted his head.

“Still so stubborn,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You jerked your head away, but the restraint made it futile.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re in my world now, detective. And in my world, we play games.”

He pulled out a revolver from under his suit. The metallic click of the very much real weapon cocking made your breath hitch.

Where did he get that from?

He always managed to surprise you.

“Russian roulette,” he announced dramatically, spinning the cylinder. “You know this, yes? A game of chance. Just like life.”

“You’re fucking insane,” you spat, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could feel it quaking in fear. You were scared now.

“Maybe,” he agreed, stepping behind you and pressing the cold barrel of the gun to your temple. “But aren’t you curious, detective? I am. I’m so so curious. You make me feel it. To crave it. Don’t you see it?”

You closed your eyes. The pressure of the gun against your skin seemed unbearable now. It was as if the nuzzle could pierce through your brain with how he was holding it against you.

“I want to see,” he kissed the top of your head, “just how far you’re willing to go to solve this case.”

I’ll do anything, you thought.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Beg me to stop, but there’ll be consequences then. Or take the risk.”

His voice was a low purr. The gun shifted slightly, trailing down your temple to rest just below your jaw.

“Say the word, and I’ll put it all to an end. No more games. No more questions.” His other hand came up, ghosting over your chest. “But then you’ll have to give me something else in return.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steady your breathing as he groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. The room felt too small, the air too thin.

“What’s it going to be, darling?” he teased, the nickname twisting in your gut like a knife. His fingers found your hardened nipple through the fabric, and his lips your neck.

“I...” you started, but your voice cracked. His soft chuckle rumbled against your pulse, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine.

“No shame in fear,” he said, almost kindly. The gun tilted up, tilting your chin with it, forcing you to meet his dark, hungry gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. “Little Miss Detective, found dead in a basement room. Your parents wouldn’t like to hear that now, would they?”

Your eyes widened. He knew. He knew from the start you had been tailing him. He had kept tabs on you, more than you had on him.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Please.”

“Ah, is that the best you can do?” He cooed at you, and your hands clenched into fists.

“Please let me go,” you said, almost angrily, and he threw his head back to laugh.

“That’s not how you say it, dolly.”

You took a deep breath in, feeling your pride crush and fall down around you in bits and pieces. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He repeated in a child-like voice. “Like what?”

“Anything you like.”

His smile grew. “Will you be willing to play a game with me, then?” His hand reached under your shirt to caress your nipple, and you could feel yourself gushing at the touch.

“What game?”

“Hm, let’s see,” he murmured softly, fingers circling around your nipple. “I’ll count down from ten.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

“And for every second that passes, I’ll take one step closer to you,” he explained, his lips curling into a sly smile. “If you say the safe word, I stop. But…” He picked up the gun, rolling the cylinder lazily before he pointed it to the side and—

BANG !

You shook, trying to cower and hide yourself, but even that was difficult. The aftereffects of the shot echoed in the silence, until it faded away. It made everything seem realer, if that was even possible. He grinned at your reaction. “There will be problems.”

“What problems?”

“That’s for me to decide,” he said simply, leaning forward, the gun still in his hand. “Do you want to play, Miss Detective?”

You hesitated. There was no way out of this room, no way out of his control. And he knew it.

“Good.” He stood, assuming your answer before you even responded. But the gun was still in his hand, and you didn’t dare disobey. He stepped back to the far wall and bumped into a table on the way. Angrily, he kicked the table out of his way, muttering curses all the while. Then his expression softened as he turned to you. “The rules are clear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He began.

“Ten.” The sound of his boots against the floor echoed around.

“Nine.” Another step. His eyes locked onto yours like a predator stalking its prey.

“Eight.” Your hands gripped the edge of the chair.

“Seven.” The gun in his hand wasn’t aimed at you yet, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from it.

“Six.” He was close enough now that you could see the faint smirk playing on his lips.

“Five.” “Wait,” you blurted out.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head. “Wait? That’s not the safe word.” He took another step, closer still. You clenched your jaw, now starting to panic.

He never even gave you a safe word in the first place!

“Four.” He was looming over you now, the barrel of the gun tracing along the edge of the table.

“Three.” “Stop,” you said loudly.

“Two.” The gun was under your chin now, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“One.” He smiled, satisfied, as he crouched down to your level, his face mere inches from yours. “You didn’t use the safe word,” he murmured, the gun tracing along your jawline.

“You didn’t give me one!”

“Details,” he rolled his eyes. “But now, as per the rules, of course…” He kneeled down in front of you again, head tilting down. His hands went up to grip both sides of your waist.

“Wait—”

“Shut up.”

For a moment or two, you didn’t feel anything. That was until his tongue licked a striped against your clothed cunt.

“Ack!” You jumped, trying to push him off you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Like that?” He nuzzled his face into the wetness, making you shiver. “I haven’t even started yet, baby,” he mumbled. Then, he sank his teeth into your clothed thigh.

You let out a loud cry, hoping that someone — anyone — would hear you. But no one did. No one came.

“Quiet now, dolly.” His teeth chewed at your waistband for a few seconds before pulling it down completely. “Up,” he tapped your waist, and you obediently raised your hips. He pried your pants off you.

“Oh,” he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw that your panties were still covering you. “We’ve got to take this off, hm?” He cooed at you again. “Come on, taking it off for me now.”

“What?”

“I said, take it off.”

“How?” You were taken aback.

“Wiggle wiggle,” he smiled like a dork. Then he sat up and kissed your ear. “I’ll help you with the top till then.”

He helped lift your top over your head directly. Once it was off, his lips immediately latched back onto your cheek. “Panties off, please. Before I rip them apart.”

You nodded and fidgeted for a while, lifting your hips up and down and trying to get the fabric off you. But it wouldn’t budge at all.

“Pathetic,” he said, though he looked at you fondly, as if mocking your vulnerability. Tugging a finger under the waistband of your panties, he peeled the soaked cloth away from your skin easily, patting your waist so you’d lift them up to get it off completely. 

You were exposed to him. Naked from top to bottom except for the bra he somehow hadn’t removed yet. You felt the sudden chill of air against your bare pussy. Your nipples pebbled further. He tossed the underwear aside.

His hands slid along your thighs, spreading them wider. “Beautiful.” His fingers tightened. A hand snaked between your legs, cupping the flesh of your thighs easily. “So wet. Already? You should be ashamed.”

You flushed lightly, trying to come up with a retort. But he shut you up immediately. His middle finger had found its way inside you.

“Fuck—” you groaned, and he snickered.

He wiggled his finger within you, grinding it against your inner walls, pressing firmly on that sweet spot while watching as your face contorted in pleasure.

Your body bucked as he added another finger, stretching you wide open. Then another. And another.

He pulled back suddenly, and you whined.

“Why—?”

“No,” he whispered, standing up. His large frame towered over yours, his hands reaching behind your neck to unclasp your bra. “Such nice tits, dolly.” He squeezed them in his rough palms as if grateful to God for his creations. His thumb brushed across your hardening nipple, teasing the peak into a tighter bud, if that was even possible.

Then he lowered his head, capturing one between his lips and suckling deeply. His tongue flicked expertly at your hardened nipple, nipping lightly.

You could see stars.

Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Nip. Twist. Fiddle. Suck. Ni—

He moved onto the other one and did the same.

Fuck was he good at his job.

He left trails of kisses on your chest. Both of them were red and swollen now, and you were left cursing his name in your mind.

“I’ve been playing nice all this while, don’t you think? Let’s make it rougher.”