#cw discussion of addiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wireddless · 1 year ago

Text

Addict

pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Reader

cw: 17+ hate. fucking. dubcon, possessive behavior, corio is emotionally abusive, vaguely implied Plinth reader, p in v, unprotected sex, nsfw below the cut,

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i just know hes so hung you guys i want him so bad

Living in the shadow of Lucy Gray was never an easy feat. That’s all she was after the erasure; a shadow, soon to be only a whisper on the sleeping breath of Coriolanus. The closest he could ever feel to real love was with the District 12 songbird, and had she been more than just a district animal, a member of the Capitol, there was no doubt in your mind he would have married her instead.

Your days at the academy, a few years his inferior, were spent in the naive mindset that he was fully capable of love. However, the only true love he would ever feel was towards the power in his cold-handed grasp. After your graduation, you continued living with your family, their prized figurehead of poise and beauty, until they managed to propose your hand to him, only a year or so before he became president.

Coriolanus, living on top of his family’s hidden debt and poverty, accepted nearly immediately, driven by the thought of the millions that came with your name. Your family, so charmed by the icy man, was manipulated into paying for the lavish ceremony. A Capitol wedding was a spectacle to behold, a sea of colored heads and garments, textiles in unique patterns decorating the spectators in a myriad of colors. An insipid eye-sore, in his opinion.

And there you were, the pale lavender of your dress cascading down your body like the drapes that covered a window in a lonely mansion, baby fat gone. The bright light in your eyes that has now long-since faded, the happy expression you held, truly believing the facade he had put on to convince your family that he was a perfect match, it all fueled a fire of satisfaction in his psyche. He remembered the young girl from their studious days, the sneaky glances shot his way from a face framed by baby fat, it was so easy to take advantage of a schoolgirl crush, to charm his way right into your heart. He’d never go hungry again, and he could finally focus solely on his rise to power.

Or so he thought. When you managed to pick his intentions apart and discovered the cunning and manipulative nature of the man, you became defiant, fucking petulant. Your once tender and loving gaze, seeking to nurture and care for him, hardened like the calcium deposits on the well pumps in the poorer districts of Panem. He heard in passing from the workers of the house about your violent fits of tears late at night. It wasn’t like he cared, hell, the idea of your reddened face damp with tears and snot amused him to no end. But fuck if it didn’t annoy him when Tigris became your closest friend and confidant.

Coriolanus kept you locked away in the golden cage of his home, not permitting the men of his staff to go near you, forcing you to discuss with him the simplest task of visiting your own family. You were still the key to his now inherited wealth, a prize that he had won with cunning and malicious tactics, and the thought of you straying into the arms of another man, who could take you, who could take even a bit of the control he held, it infuriated him to no end.

It took almost a year for you to realize that without your family, he was completely broke, and it took almost two to realize he never once held even a glimmer of fondness towards you, that he was using you. Tigris, who had spoken to you during her regular visits, had become the arms you fell into when the agony of your situation first befell you. Her hands wrapped around your body as she shushed and hummed quietly were a solace to you as the pain dawned on you. Three years after your marriage, you would speak in hushed tones over cooling tea, not bothering to hide your glare when Coriolanus bothered joining. He was no longer the subject matter of your conversations with Tigris, instead discussing gossip that had spread through the yammering mouths of Capitol citizens, and the newest trends to pass around them. She had become your dearest friend, one he couldn’t find a valid reason to hide you from. Though he never would admit while his heart was still beating, despite your shared animosity, you were still his favorite accessory.

The Reaping ceremonies for the next annual Hunger Games would begin soon, which became a sensitive topic between you and Coriolanus. It was no secret to you who Lucy Gray Baird had been, who she had been to him. What the hunger games meant to him. You resented her. Not for the place she held near his heart, but for managing to escape him before he had caged her.

The fire of your arguments was always sparked by her name, the tinder and fuel having already been prepared by the years of building resentment. Almost always in his office, your hands would shove him back as he rapidly approached you after you provoked him with harsh and unforgiving words, only fanning the flame of hatred he felt towards you. Then he would corner you, your back against the wall as one hand found your neck and the other found your hair, his fingernails digging at your scalp. His minty breath falling out of his mouth in heavy gasps as he fought the urge to kill you right there. You made him feel as though he was an animal from the districts, dirty and foaming at the mouth. And he hated that.

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d always reassure you when his grip on your throat finally loosened, his eyes taking in the way you would suck in air he had prevented from reaching your lungs. Coriolanus considered what little he allowed you, even the air you breathed, a favor. He thought himself generous, benevolent even. He wasn’t of course, and you were always quick to point that out.

Today's argument was only different in setting, within the walls of your shared bedroom rather than his office. You had shoved him, predictable, and turned to storm away, wanting to find a guest room to sleep in instead. But before you could reach the door, his hand had yanked you by your hair back towards him before nearly throwing you on the bed. When you sat up to scramble away, he shoved you back down by your shoulders and crawled on top of you, effectively pinning you to the mattress, an echo of your frequent taunts. It was rare that you two would actually be in such a position, as neither of you particularly craved intimacy with one-another, yet the way one hand slid up your negligee and gripped the curve of your thigh conveyed a much different message tonight.

“I just wish you’d shut up for once, you know that?” He growled. Coriolanus Snow was an aggressive lover. He put all his weight on his forearm strung across your chest to keep you pinned down as his fingers left their place on your thigh and slid up to the junction of your legs, cupping your heat rather aggressively before shoving them aside and sliding his fingers over your folds to find the sensitive and rather neglected bundle of nerves. You could hardly hide the shudder that overcame you as you responded.

“Fuck you!” You spat at him, writhing under his touch. Your head fell back on the luxurious sheets and you bit back a moan as he swirled his fingers in a circular motion over your clit, stirring the lust you had repressed to life. How he loved to see your eyes rolling back into your skull as you fought surrendering to his ministrations. The edges of his mouth lifted in a smug little smirk when your arousal became more evident, making your cunt slick and pliable.

Oh, how he adored to see his poor, neglected wife fall victim to her own human nature. It made him want to consume you whole, like you were a treat he got all to himself. Coriolanus’s mouth fell to your collarbone and his teeth scraped over the thin skin as he slipped his middle finger inside your sopping hole, earning an earnest mewl from your normally argumentative lips. He bit down rather hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder as he slowly, teasingly pumped his finger in and out. This would be easier than he thought.

He tilted his head back up to take in the sight of your demeanor flickering to something more vulnerable, before taking your mouth with his. He kissed you like you provided the air he needed to breathe, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate. You’d be a fool to say you didn’t still crave him after the years of strained marriage. His teeth clashed with yours as you both attempted to deepen the kiss. When he pushed another finger inside of you, hooking them and speeding up, your mouth fell open with a shaky moan, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

When your mother described to you what sex was like, she explained it like an intimate dance, where two souls would merge with love and passion. But it was never like that between the two of you. It was always a battle, aggressive and antagonistic as one of you sought to take something from the other. For Coriolanus, it was a display of his authority and control. His fingers quickened in pace and your hips bucked up into his hand, searching for more friction that would aid in your release. And he was benevolent wasn’t he? Who would he be to deny such a rare and primal pleasure? His fingers continued their attack on the spongy roof of your walls, pushing you closer and closer until your hand tore at the skin of his back with the intensity of your orgasm. Still seeing stars, he pulled his lips from yours and hovered them over your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, damp with tears.

“See how easy everything can be when you just stop resisting me at every turn?” You opened your mouth to respond, to bite back when the arm that pinned you down quickly shifted so his hand could cup over your mouth. He loved shutting you up. His silent voice hissed in your ear with a lingering promise. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.”

So focused on his words and hot breath on your ear, you almost didn’t notice when he pulled his fingers from inside you to tug down your panties, discarding them somewhere behind him before fumbling with the breeches he slept in, the cold air of the room hitting his stiff cock. He brought that same hand up before him, spitting in it and spreading the wetness of his saliva over his hardened length. Barely giving you a second to process all that was happening, he pressed himself inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow furrowing as your tight, wet heat engulfed him entirely.

Having not been intimate with him in so long, it was like he was splitting you open, and you cried out with pleasure into his hand, your own lashes pressing together as you took his total length. Coriolanus didn’t remain still for long, and his hips soon began setting a bruising pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he fought the urge to moan himself, not wanting to appear any less in control than he was. Your muffled gasps spurred him on, practically driving him mad as he pummeled into you. The volume difference when he removed his hand from your mouth and forearm from your chest was quite noticeable, and his fingers wove into your hair once more, holding your head back against the bed as he swallowed your moans with his mouth.

The stinging pain of your nails in the skin of his back when they flung around him was dulled by the sheer thrill he felt taking you like this. The hand that coaxed your orgasm out of you found its way to your thigh again, pushing it up over your torso to rest on your shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as his fingers dug into the hot and tender skin. You nearly screamed into his mouth from the change in sensation as his hips came flush with yours over and over again. For a brief moment, he pulled away from the kiss to bite and suck at the skin of your neck, letting you sing out unmuted by his hand, as he imagined his songbird would so many years ago.

Coriolanus hated you. He hated almost everything about you. He resented you the way you resented him, but he was still addicted to you. Addicted to the control you allowed him as he fucked you stupid, to the way your pitful moans were brought about by him, to the dumb fucking look on your face as your body managed to make his hips stutter and falter as he came inside you with a low moan. He didn’t care about pulling out. You were his wife, a state figurehead, it was part of the job description to give birth to his children. Maybe getting you pregnant would even do him the favor of shutting you up. He didn’t bother helping you clean up as you readjusted your nightgown, instead opting to wipe the sweat from his brow and tuck himself back in the satin pants he intended on sleeping in.

Coriolanus Snow was not capable of real love. All those close enough to him were well-aware of that fact, including you. But when he crawled into the bed and pulled you, still breathless and trembling, up next to him, when he tucked your head into his chest in a possessive manner, your hands pressed against his heated chest, when he fell asleep holding you like you’d run away too, you momentarily convinced yourself he might have been able to love.

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willnaib · 2 years ago

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i didn't mention levi's heroin addiction at first because i wanted to make a longer post about it, but... may as well tack it onto this one because it's on topic.

i know it's optional in-game when you play as him for a reason, but i really wish the addiction was unavoidable. it's something i like about termina a lot -- that you Cannot Escape the horror. levi's trauma isn't something you can just write off and move on about, it's a constant debuff that affects every combat encounter in the game. you have no choice but to think about it when he's in your party. there's meta discussions on how levi is really only useful when you have heroin and need a heavy hitter for a boss fight, but useless for general fights. that's the point. he's a product of prehevil and of the war that frames the game. when he has the drug, he's practically a killing machine. when he doesn't, good luck. it's an intentional thing -- that it's not just cosmetic or a personality trait, but a debuff that affects how you play the game. because it affects how levi lives his life.

we see this in the plot of the game too -- how the only time levi shows any sort of excitement (or emotion other than vaguely miserable) is when he remembers his hiding spot in the woods from when he was a kid... and then gets somewhat embarrassed as he remembers that he was stashing beer and god-knows what else in there. when he was, like, twelve. because he was conscripted at 13. (which is why personally i don't agree with the avoidable debuff, since we know he's already predisposed to it because he grew up in Depths of Shit Orphanage, but w/e.)

it's been mentioned in the tags of the og post a few times (ty all for your additions btw. i read them all. i love them) but it really is disappointing that levi's addiction is either not acknowledged or treated as a joke. it's something that impacts his gameplay -- and character -- fundamentally, and it's not as if resources on addiction aren't easily accessible through searches. don't try to escape it. does it make you uncomfortable? good! fear and hunger is a horror series. horror is meant to make you uncomfortable. the existence of a barely-adult character who has struggled with substance addiction since childhood is supposed to make you uncomfortable, and then question the circumstances that made him into that. termina is very overtly an anti-war game. aside from his childhood, the war is what denied him an opportunity to grow past his origins. he is a victim of circumstance.

thinking about the complexity of levi today. how he’s the first person to suggest just burning the city down, how easy it would catch fire. how he doesn’t feel bad for the moonscorched citizens because, in his opinion, they kind of deserved it. how he still wants a home. how he wants to take up piano again. how he doesn’t register when abella asks him if he’s okay and doesn’t take a noncommittal “yeah” as an answer. how he’s only 18 and has been at war for five years. how he always offers to watch the door, guard the exit — just in case. how he doesn’t want to just be a scope behind a rifle anymore. how he’s been prepared to die his whole life, but doesn’t want to. he’s only 18.

#fear and hunger termina #levi fear and hunger #funger #bonepost #bone analysis #drugs cw #ask to tag?#but also the discussion of addiction is important

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puppyaulait · 4 months ago

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Part 2- CW for discussion of addiction and alcohol (part 1)

#myart #my art #hazbin hotel #angeldust #huskerdust #husker hazbin hotel #huskdust #angelhusk

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konigsblog · 11 months ago

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consensual somnophilia with depraved simon riley.

cw; somnophilia (consent discussed), dub-con. 18+

simon riley usually has self control. he's able to resist and hold himself back, but when it comes to you? god, you're irresistible, and he's an insatiable mess, admiring your features while you sleep peacefully.

you're so relaxed, at ease and completely unaware of his perverted gaze. his filthy hands wander, trying to pull himself away to no use. his calloused hand slides between your thighs, rubbing at your clothed cunt gently while he takes in your beauty. your body limp in his strong arms, continuously rubbing at your sensitive clit through the fabric, your facial expressions almost enough for him to come in his boxers.

instead of soiling his boxers with his hot cum, he instead slides your panties off of your figure, holding them against his face while he prods against your tight hole. so wet, glistening with slick, collecting your juices along the head of his hung dick. simon's hands drive underneath your t-shirt, toying with your hard nipples and burying his face in the crook of your neck. your smell, sweet, and your body compliant and reactive with his touch, your glossy and aroused pussy becoming wetter with each stroke and drag.

fuck, he can't hold himself back any longer. despite his gentle and slow thrusts, the way he sloppily rolls his broad hips against you, he feels himself inching closer to his desired release. the tip of simon's swollen cock begins to weep and ooze milky beads of his arousal, pushed into you while he huffs at your scent.

so addictive, aren't you, princess?

#orla speaks #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost imagine #ghost mwii

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ask-codeearasure · 4 months ago

Note

There should be a noted difference between creative fanon works and character generalizations for discussions like these. I think it would help distinguish between whether fanon in general is being criticized or the stereotyped versions of these characters are.

I've got a lot of complaints for how Killer, Swap!Papyrus, and Error are mischaracterized in fanfiction if you'd like to hear them.

I don't know why I'm phrasing it that way because I'm gonna rant regardless.

I'm not a fan of how Error is always assumed to be aggressive and aggravated beyond belief either, because the only times he is shown to BE outwardly aggressive is when he's in the process of destroying a reality and torturing the people in it OR his boundaries were crossed. You can see these cases on the AskErrorsans blog, in the asks where Error's fighting Swap!Papyrus or when he thinks he's being manipulated by either Blueberry or one of the askers in the Anti-Void (the one who asked for a handshake).

There are CONDITIONS to how Error reacts and It's less likely to earn his fatal responses in the Anti-Void because, well, that's pretty much his safespace despite his past with it.if.

But note that he is not angry ALL THE TIME. He's sadistic and all but he's got unstable mood swings and a certain detachment from reality and characterizing that shit as unfiltered rage, malice, and threats all the time is nothing short of a stereotype for people who experience those symptoms intensely.

It's just gotten aggravating at this point. Error experiences more emotions than this. There are more times where he's happy or caught extremely off guard by stimuli he did not expect (see: Fresh).

My complaints with Killer's characterization is similar and I know @howlsofbloodhounds has the same grievances given... her entire Tumblr, I mean look at it. It's a landmine of Killer. It's great.

Killer is almost always characterized as this perverted flirtatious sex guru in both Stage 1 and Stage 2, but mostly Stage 2, the Stage where he could care less about interacting with other people unless there is an interest he has latched on to.

He has never been shown to be a particularly sexual person, and the one time he had been was as a joke between Rahafwabas and Jokublog about him making an effort to repulse the shit out of Nightmare.

But here's the thing. In full honesty, the sex part of how he's characterized is something I could care less about. It's moreso his personality and lack thereof depending on the Stage he's in. Killer is a tragic character with trillions of sins on his back. It's especially evident in Stage 1 where he has the disposition of a wet cat who sometimes aims to get Color to kill him or warns others about Stages 2 and 3 if he can't have the former.

In Stage 2, he is in such an intense state of dissociation he has convinced himself he feels nothing and cares about no one. Perhaps he could put on a false persona here and there but he has to have a CAUSE first. He's not going to put in all that effort unless he's getting a benefit out of it and often that benefit has to include a semblance of control over himself or another person.

Stages 3 and 4 I can't speak on as much considering they're both completely weaponized states of mind. One is most easily comparable to a feral animal and the other a machine with tunnel vision onto one objective: killing. They don't have much personality to warp in a sexual or flirtatious way and that is why these stages are consistently ignored in fanfiction.

If you can't sexualize a concept, you're better off ignoring it or completely rewriting it. This is where the "sex addict Stage 2" comes from. The people who write this shit either didn't care for what this character actually was or couldn't bother to do the research.

This isn't even a statement against fanon in general, coming from me. What irritates me so much isn't the basis of creative liberties, it's about the constant warping of these characters to the point the results overshadow what they were intended to be. Too many people still think Killer is a mouthy pervert instead of one of the most unsocial, guilt-ridden, and suicidal characters this fandom has ever made. And again, that's just him in Stage 1.

It becomes an issue when one perception of a character, one that isn't even right (or one that could be a harmful stereotype), gets pushed so commonly and so harshly that that is all people think that character is.

This is a reason why I still have friends that don't like Killer, Underswap, Dreamtale, Ink, Error, what have you. They have outright said many a time that they don't like what common fandom treatment has done to them and that is why they avoid looking into them.

Swap!Papyrus suffers from this kind of shit too but because he's not Swap!Sans, we don't see all that many complaints about fandom making him an overprotective crack addict with depression so intense and so fetishized his needs are ignored or even shamed by his older brother.

In renditions of Underswap where Sans is the younger brother or Sans and Papyrus are the same age, they suffer from these same character clichés regardless. Because they are never expanded upon aside from being a bland joke at mostly Papyrus's expense and sometimes at Sans's expense for having symptoms of AuDHD or just being such a nice guy that kindness is considered a fucking weakness and Swap!Papyrus is just soooooooo damn cynical he has to either ground his brother at every turn or imply insult to his helpful nature.

I've seen way too many fanfictions that do this and in a way, they implement these character traits to make Papyrus a lazy form of antagonist.

In canon Underswap, the main traits about the main cast is their ROLES are all swapped, and their personalities are only swapped on a PARTIAL BASIS. Sans becomes eccentric and Papyrus gets a little lazy.

And yet, despite these minuscule changes in personality to the two, Swap!Papyrus has become the stereotyped Classic!Sans, where his entire personality is angst and the occasional joke and jest is made to cover up how depressed and tragic he is. The only light in his life is his brother, who he constantly infantilizes and isolates because he's nice, appears naive, and may or may not be neurodivergent, and therefore too symptomatic and utterly defenseless to make his own decisions as an adult.

Recognize a pattern here? Cause it's certainly ableist and disrespectful and I am fucking tired of seeing this shit in just about every Sans and Papyrus duo, ESPECIALLY those with swapped origins.

And the fuckin Swap!Papyrus is a drug/smoking addict thing? It's been played off as a joke so much that no one seems to want to expand on how these addictions could affect Swap!Papyrus and his relationships in the long run. Sure, he doesn't have a brain or lungs to fuck up, but did you know daily use of drugs and other chemicals can screw with your bone marrow or how strong your bones are in general? Why not do something with that?

Maybe have that while Papyrus himself plays his addictions off as jokes, it's a bad coping mechanism where HE wants himself to ignore the health issues he'd have to deal with years from that point and his brother vocalizing his worry about those possibilities is just that bit agitating to him.

Because Papyrus knows Sans is right, but the resources for addicts in the Underground might be extremely limited. Perhaps he's tried to curb his reliance on cigarettes or weed without any assistance before but always fell back into them because of withdrawal symptoms or he couldn't handle another depressive episode without a distraction and didn't want to burden Sans with it.

Maybe Sans, instead of shaming and insulting Papyrus for these problems, really does try to support and help him however he can. Maybe another reason why he joins the Royal Guard is so they can afford the few resources and modern research that'll help Papyrus manage his issues. Perhaps Sans is dealing with his own internal struggle here too, that he is great at so many things but doesn't know how to help his brother in a time where he needs him the most, that he blames himself for not stopping Papyrus from forming these addictions in the first place, but didn't catch onto it in time because he was working so hard for most of his waking hours?

Why can't we do this instead of relying on fandom generalizations to make cheap conflicts between these guys? Why can't we do this instead of making substance abuse look like a fucking joke?

-- Sarco

Here is my hot take:

When people talk about who's the most mischaracterised they are always wrong because it's not Ink or Swap. It's Error. I have yet to see someone draw Error that isn't: a) extreme exaggeration of fear of touch, b) too sweet to be in character c) too evil to be in character and d) way too confident. Most of these are apparent in fanfics. It's fine if people want to take creative liberty with him, but making Error one singular characteristic and make him always react in one way (ex. Always aggravated and violent at everyone and everything) is not only flat writing, but also just unrealistic. Anyways this was brought to you by a Ink fan who is tired of either or both Error and Ink being done so badly.

Honestly, to me the most mischaracterized tends to be either Killer or Papyrus (literally any Papyrus, because tell me why Underswap Papyrus is almost always an overprotective asshole who babies his older brother in most fics??).

But that's also mostly because it's been a good while since I last read either an Error or an Ink-centric fic. While I love them very very much, it's just too hard to filter stuff out the way I want on AO3, all because UTMV isn't recognized as an actual fandom (despite it being very detached from Undertale). It's frustrating and I don't have the patience to go through every fic just to look for the dynamic I'm hoping for.

So yeah, I'm not an expert on how people write Error anymore, but if they really do flatten him to just one characteristic I do get why that's frustrating since unfortunately that always happens to my faves as well.

The only solution to that I've found so far has been writing the fics I wanna see and ranting endlessly about the blorbos here on Tumblr with all the wonderful people who get them

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dmitriene · 1 day ago

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Hiya👋👋 I hope you start feeling better❣❣ Anyways I was thinking.. Hybrid Au with any of the Cod guys you can choose, where reader and whichever of the guys you pick are both hybrids. One and or both of them go into heat/rut at the most inopportune moment possible, like on a mission or in the middle of a meeting type thing. Please and thank you❣❣😊

cw: hybrids, mating, rut, breeding, mentions of 141.

simon ghost riley realizes how important it is to discuss the next mission in order to strategize the matter between the soldiers, so when captain john price pulls him out of your grasping, hugging arms with a phone call in the morning, saying that in fifteen minutes he will be waiting for everyone in the briefing room, you both have to unglue your eyes open to the mercilessly bright morning rays and start getting ready.

the thing is, you've been lot, awfully clingy all recent week, sure, it's not something new for either of you, you've already been making simon's life harder from the point when he made you his mate, your body always wrapped or rubbing against defined expanse of his muscle and bone, kitten tail flicking around and curling over his leg, sweet face always nudging in against his own rugged and stubbled mug, his precious, needy darling.

but the further it's goes, the more possessive you got, obsessed, even, something been gnawing in at the pit of your tummy, making you scrape your sharp, tiny teeth's against the exposed pulse point on simon's neck, claw over every honed out, full corded lines of his body, make his pointed, dark furred dog ears twitch, fluttering at your very touch and ghost of a smell, cloying enough to his sensitive nose, flaring out in response to your antics, as you coated him in the smell of your body, didn't let him go anywhere without your company by his side.

the center of the reasons for your behavior were laying in impending heat, simple as that, but both you and simon missed all the signs, until today's briefing, a room full of other members of taskforce, soldiers all around both of you, and the air seems stuffy, almost, as you brush it off on being a little bit annoyed by the early morning you had to start, the burn of your skin a distant hint that something is wrong, yet you're too engrossed in listening to captain talking.

too unaware for your own good, because the smell of you permeates and fills the room until there's no space and corners left, wafting, flowing around and under the noses of your fellow sergeants and captain, heads turning, chests expanding and chasing the wafting notes that tickle their noses, making all the discussions cut short, curious, confused eyes searching your own from across the table, settling, and then does it's strucks you, body shuddering, searing hot, as you try to find simon with your slowly glassing gaze.

simon smells you before he sees you, whiskey pooling eyes eclipsing, and he feels the way his tail gives an interesting wag, straightening against the back of the chair he sits on, as it scrapes to follow his raising body, sending a screech of metal legs and a low rumble that bubbles up his constricting, swallowing throat, searching for you, his sweet mate, sitting between two ogling sergeants, their hands fidgety at the table, a simple instinct, since they know best than to touch what doesn't belong to simon, but still, it's enough to make him pounce.

saliva burns down his throat as if he’d gulped down battery acid, body moving on autopilot, chased only with the sound of his heavy boots thumping down against the shiny floor, before he reaches and snatches you off the chair, it's almost menacing, spine shuddering in it's roughness, but his gloved hands soften their touch when connecting over the curves of your shaking body, scooping you up and secure against him, and when simon's gaze shoots over each head in the room, the soldiers hide their gazes and turn around.

john's nose is covered by the palm, shielding, they all know the smell is addictive, arousing, plugging their noses and greedy mouthes, filling their bellies and pressing upon their underbelly, until they are hard in their pants, and without needing the voiced out permission, price's mouth preoccupied with biting down at his lip, simon carries you towards the door, shushing the whine that tears through your parting lips, exhaling out a feverish breath, jolting even in the tight grasp of his enveloping hold, before the door snaps shut.

it's gonna be alright, a voice of his, gravelly through sharp gritted teeth's, rings in through your ears, maybe, you seem to whimper, maybe you move, since simon's soothing is endless, blanketing over your frayed, distressed nerves, because you need him closer than just carrying, you need him naked, you need him weighting down on you, need his mouth frantic and covering you like a tactical map, need to feel your hole full, the one that is sopping wet against your sticky panties now, and your arousal bleeds with scent that won't stop abusing simon's senses.

every minute is countable, and he won't doggy you in some cramped, dusty room to give you a quick relief, so he has to walk all the way through the long hallway until his gaze sharpens at the sight of his room, shoulders squaring to bump against the door, elbow jutting down on the doorknob, until it's gives down and cracks open, letting him weight aside, spreading open further, until he steps past the doorway, your body and mind seeming to feel the changes of the air, the comfortable warmth of the walls around, the all fulfilling scent of simon, helping you to know, for sure, that you're safe.

your pointy, fluffy kitten ears flicker, no longer pressed tight against the crown of your head, tail curling in the air tentatively, then wraps around his forearm, and you let out a purr, small, contented sound as you bump your forehead beneath his masked jaw, the tension flowing off the shore of simon's shoulders muscle by muscle, melting in the weight of you in his arms, vibrating from the force of your little sounds, his own ears softening, no longer straightened forcefully in alertness, as his legs carry him forward, to bed.

there, simon would take care of your heat, fill your greedy, gaping leaky hole until it's too much and you're too full, the swelling weight of his cock inside of you, fat and curved to but against the gummy root of your cervix, tease right where you need him the most, filling you of warm spurts of his cum, leaving you plugged whole of his seed, but he'd take his time, first.

you'd get him in his own rut too soon like that, keening and blabbering his name through small, broken sobs, because you don't like how slow he moves, trying to be gentle, but you need this cock deep in your guts, battering your gummy, rippling insides until your thighs are soaked, glinting with tacky slickness that oozes out of your cunt, pounded along every wet slap of his thighs, lingering as a burn, full, hanging balls pressing against the plump swell of your ass to feel the way his bulbous tip nudges in that tiny, sensitive spot.

little claws piercing in his own flexing butt, scratching and tugging at his thumping, wagging tail, making him growl down at you, watery eyes all glazed as you peer at him through sooty lashes innocently, moaning on a purr in response, high pitched and so, so aroused, and he can do nothing but speed his already frantic enough pounds, to make sure you're sated, as you chirp in acceptance, cunt accommodating to each rutting motion of his hips, relishing in the roughness, in the sweaty mix of your scents, the darkness of his dilated pupils, enraptured by you.

until simon's thighs cramp and shake, every part of skin aflame from scarlet scratches you left, long and crisscrossing over his back and shoulder blades, as his cum oozes, drips out from your stretched out, pulsing hole, frothy globs soaking in the rumpled bedding beneath your entwined, heaving against each other bodies, and only then do you let him rest, your poor mate, panting in the curve of your neck, warm and sharp scented, his thrusts faltering, as your clawed fingers find their way in the sweaty locks at his flushed nape.

perhaps, you'll both crawl out the bed only by the time of a next mission, but it's doesn't matter, as long as you remain pleased and simon's rut won't trigger in the middle of the field, because that thing, none would survive for sure, especially not your captain and the sergeants, after the bothered state they were left in the briefing room, discussing the upcoming mission without you both, all while throbbing in their pants.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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benkeibear · 7 months ago

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『 Tentacles 』

☼ synopsis: Mahito loves to experiment on you simply because you let him - loving how he pushes past your limits and pleasures you beyond belief.

☼ character: Mahito

☼ wc: 2.6k

☼ cw: DARK CONTENT! fem!reader, afab!reader, sub!reader, slapping, dacryphilia, clit slapping, bondage, tentacles, choking, throat fucking, spitting, humiliation, degradation, penetration with tentacles, anal, overstimulation, womb fucking, squirting

☼ notes: I'm bringing this cursed piece back because I miss my skrunkly rat 🫡

Mahitos eyes went wide when he saw the way you were looking right at him instead of through him like everyone else. He knew right that moment that you will be his, if you want to or not so he gave you a silly grin while waving at you. Talking to him was so easy, he would always have interesting topics to discuss for hours as time flew by whenever you two hung out, always listening to you, always agreeing with you without making it too obvious but before you knew it you were craving his company. You fell so hopelessly in love with the man who did nothing but sweet talk you, luring you in and giving you a sense of being heard and seen along with this false sense of security - his plan worked. He's not a master of manipulation for nothing, not even surprised that you were seeking out his attention all the time, almost addicted to it like a lost puppy.

The fact that he wasn't human didn't even surprise you when he broke the news to you, already aware that he was a little different from your average man but you never once minded, finding it quite appealing actually. Mahito’s lighthearted attitude along with his dumb jokes never failed to make you smile, always pushing you to your limits or having you be the butt of the jokes. It was playful banter to you, an experiment of how far he can take it for him. Testing you… you were never more than just an experiment to him, while you called him your boyfriend in such a loving way it always amused him. Your giggles lit up his heart but he wouldn't admit it, blaming it on everything but you. He's a curse after all, made out of hatred… he can't love.

It was just a question of time until he took these little experiments into the bedroom though and before you knew it, you found yourself pushed far past your limits but his sweet encouragement in your ears made it bearable. “You're taking me so well. Just a little bit more, cupcake” he chuckled and rubbed little circles on your clit to distract you from the almost unbearable pain he caused with his slaps to your thighs and ass - skin painfully sore to the point where it's bleeding. But you were his good girl, his perfect little human, you didn't want to disappoint him so you took everything he had to give despite your cheeks being stained with tears. Seeing you this broken, eyes all red and puffy from crying and far out of your comfort zone got him hard like nothing else, knowing he had you in the palm of his hand like a little puppet he can control made him feel invincible. The orgasm that followed was earth shattering, little slaps to your over sensitive clit gave you a high like never before after getting edged for hours on end, drooling on yourself and the bed beneath from the exhaustion and barely noticing how Mahito cleaned you up with utmost care, bandaging the wounds he caused before kissing each of them. “Can't have you breaking from this… you did so well for me” he praised while wrapping you in a fuzzy blanket and cupping your cheek to prevent you from moving while he kissed your forehead with a tender kiss. The collar around your neck jingled when you moved to cuddle up to the curse, a tired smile spreading over your lips at the reminder that you're his and he is yours - your name carved into his soul and there to remain.

You didn't need to know that even if you ever used the safeword, he wouldn't stop. It just existed to give you this false sense of security but worry not, he would never quite literally split you in half. Mahito was so much sweeter with you than with any of his experiments before, adoring you for the way you wanted his love so badly, how you humiliated yourself just to get some words of praise from him. All you were to him was a little project to study humans on, liking to see your reactions to various things and how you seemed to mind it less whenever he encourages you, how the unbearable pain suddenly became bearable with simple praise never failed to make him laugh, how desperate you cling onto his words to guide you out of it and towards your sweet reward for being such a good little human to him. He could own you and you would thank him for it, making him feel like a god.

This was your mistake - trusting him to never take it too far, that he's doing this for your pleasure rather for his curiosity but this mistake is what made you end up in this delicate situation. Your hands were tied behind your back, a spreader bar preventing your legs from closing as Mahito manhandled you onto all fours, a sickenly sweet smile on his face when you just let him move you the way he desired, not thinking much of this since he does this a lot. Your eyes locked for a moment while he caressed your cheek with his hand until something changed…

You tried jerking your head away when you felt these cold and slimy appendages slither over your cheek instead of his beautiful slender fingers you loved to feel on your body. “Hold still now, bunny. You don't want to get hurt… or worse, now do you? He asked in a playful tone, letting his fingers - now tentacles slither over your face and neck. Tears started forming in your panicked eyes, the sensation of tentacles on your skin new and frightening when they slowly started choking you. Mahito was laughing menacingly as he watched a fresh wave of fear mixed with disgust wash over your face when one of the appendages slithered over your lips which you pressed into a thin line. “You need to open that little mouth of yours… or i might let them go through your nose” He hummed in amusement, proving his point by letting one of them move towards your Nostril. Your head was shaking violently from side to side, panic increasing as your tears streamed down your cheeks in thick streams now and he sighed, one tentacle pushing into your nostril to let your know he was serious while a look of disappointment started forming on his face - His once so obedient little human suddenly refused him.

Every single hair on your body was standing from the feeling which caused you to reluctantly open your mouth, the tentacle immediately removing itself from your nose and slithering over your lips, slowly ascending into your awaiting mouth. Your body was repulsed by it, gagging wildly at the salty taste the slime left behind on your poor tongue, making sure to rub itself all over your wet muscle so you had no other choice but to taste it. “Look at you, taking it like a good girl. Now close your pretty lips around it, treat it like my cock you love so much” He chuckled but it turned into a laugh when you were pleading him not to make you do this but Mahito wasn't asking you, he was demanding so you behaved like his good little human and did what he wanted, sucking on the tentacle as if its his cock. It took everything inside of you not to gag when you felt a second one slide into your mouth and down your throat, moans from your lover filling your ear when he saw how beautifully your throat was bulging from the intrusion until he decided you had enough, taking the tentacles out of your mouth and kissing you forceful, his tongue invading your mouth like the slimy tentacles did just seconds ago.

His face showed pure euphoria upon tasting your saliva mixed with the salty taste of his tentacles. His kiss distracted you from the way his other hand transformed now too, letting slender tentacles slither over your naked body that was at his mercy until you couldn't ignore the cold sensation anymore, crying out for him to stop but still not using your safeword, which would have been useless regardless. Mahito positioned himself behind you, your ass still propped in the air, your face now resting against the mattress. Wet tentacles slowly slithered over the globes of your ass and along your thigh, ultimately resting at your folds to pull them apart, giving your lover a perfect view of your pretty slit. “Look at you, little pet. Crying and screaming but your cunt is drenched” he mused, smirking at your miserable frame before spitting onto your core that was fully on display for him which made you whimper out of humiliation, feeling his saliva along with your juices slowly dribble down your thighs and staining the mattress beneath you. He was right - it felt disgusting and you wanted it to stop but at the same time it felt so good to be forced into submission by him, letting him do everything he wanted to your body. Unbeknownst to you, a moan slipped out of your lips when one of the tentacles slowly wound itself through your folds, missing every sensitive spot on purpose. This made Mahitos wolfish grin spread further, the tentacle stopping dead in its tracks, resting right next to your bundle of nerves. “What a naughty little thing you are, bunny. Enjoying this like a needy slut” He whispered the degradation in your ear before wiggling the slimy appendage over your clit in a barely there touch, making you cry out from the weird, yet intense sensation.

The way your juices mixed with the slime of the tentacle caressing your clit made it unbearable to you, whines and moans cascading out of your mouth in a desperate way, needing a little more to tumble over the edge than just the feather light touch but Mahito heard your prayers, the slimy appendage now adding more pressure to your sensitive clit, making your jaw slack with a silent scream. The wetness of it aided as lube, easily flicking over the nub until it had you screaming out loud in pleasure, the knot in your abdomen finally snapping and Mahito laughed at the mix of emotions on your face, pleasure and disgust when you realized just what gave you this mind blowing orgasm and that this would not be the end. Your fears were correct when you felt four tentacles play with your entrance, taking turns on slipping in the tiniest bit until two of them slithered in to spread your cunt open, opening you up for the third one. A scream escaped you, begging him to stop but it was only amusing him further, letting the tentacle grow in girth as it slowly pushed itself inside of you. You felt every nub inside of your walls and the way it wiggled inside you let you feel things you've never felt before. “There you go. Give up your little fight… accept the pleasure it brings” Mahito cooed, feeling the way you slowly stopped clenching around the tentacle, making it much easier

To slip it further inside of you, the two smaller ones which spread you open slowly joined the thicker one and stretching you further than you've ever experienced.

Your jaw hung wide open at this sensation, one tentacle pressing against your sweet spot as the other two rubbed against your walls and prodding at your cervix to give you pleasure. With your eyes closed you slowly allowed the sensations to make you feel good, another tentacle playing with your clit again had you whimpering for more, growing greedier by the minute. “Awh are three inside of you not enough?” your lover teased and slid another one back into your mouth to fuck your throat but this time you welcomed it, sucking on it like a pacifier. It muffled your moan when you felt another tentacle enter your stretched cunt, but there was no pain, the little appendage rubbing your nub made sure you're enjoying it all as two more sucked and pulled on your hardened nipples. Pure ecstasy spread through your body, moaning loudly around the tentacle in your mouth but your eyes shot wide open when you felt another small one massage the ring of muscles at your ass, slowly prodding into your puckered hole. “I can't believe you let a disgusting tentacle take your little anal virginity, aren't you disgusted by it? By yourself for feeling this much pleasure?” Mahito asked sinister as he pushed it further into your behind but you only shook your head - it didn't hurt and you the disgust was long gone. You knew he didn't mean it, he loved the way you were so eager to please him by letting him do everything to you, he would never shame you for feeling pleasure since that's exactly what he wanted, for his little experiment to discover new pleasure and the way you slowly succumb to it.

The torturous assault of tentacles lasted hours, your holes stretched and your poor body begging for a break from the continuous orgasms Mahito brought you with his newest experiment. “Give me one more and I'll let you rest” he cooed, pushing against your sweet spot repeatedly with a smaller tentacle as the thick one nestled itself into your womb, making you feel as full as never before. It was enough to have you screaming until your voice was hoarse and with a last flick against your clit he had you squirting all over the bed again, taking one tentacles after the other out of your abused cunt until only one remained on your clit along with the other inside of your behind. “I need to see you break, bunny. Think you can cum again just from this?” He asked, nibbling at your neck while one of the slimy appendages kept rubbing your clit as the other one thrusted into your puckered hole. Your head was shaking violently, overstimulated to the point where it started to be painful but you still didn't use the safe word and allowing him to continue with this torture until he had his fill from seeing you cum over and over just from the anal penetration until you passed out.

You don't know how long you were gone but your legs were aching, your holes sore which reminded you that this wasn't a nightmarish wet dream - it really happened and you felt like crying when Mahito pulled you closer into his arms. “Did we go too far today, my bunny? Does your tiny body need a break?” He cooed in a fake sympathy but you still appreciated his care, nuzzling your face into his chest to return to the safe space in his arms. You knew he didn't want to hurt you and he didn't, at least not physically. “You did so well for me today… such a good girl. My perfect little human” he whispered as he played with your hair, hoping you can fall asleep soon since he already cleaned you up while you were unconscious. Mahito may be a curse created out of hatred, unable to love but he felt something towards you, something that runs deeper than just his curiosity - your name was carved into his soul after all.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

#-ˋˏ ༻luma's musings #jjk x reader #jjk smut #mahito x reader #mahito smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk mahito #Mahito #tw tentacles #💫hotter than the sun💫

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cosmereplay · 1 year ago

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One of the fascinating things about addiction (intellectually, not to experience, obviously) is that the pathways involved in addiction (famously dopamine but others too) are also the pathways involved in connecting to each other. Feeling good is connected to feeling a sense of safety and belonging.

Humans are mostly social creatures. Broadly speaking, most of us want to be around other people, and rejection hurts. Bad. If we get rejected, those dopamine pathways make us crave belonging, and that pain motivates us to do whatever we can to get back in the social circle, to belong again and feel safe. Sound familiar?

It's no coincidence that people who are lonely and rejected are more at risk for addiction. Dopamine-mimicking drugs can briefly give us that sense of safety and belonging when we don't have it. At their best, drugs provide us a brief respite, a feeling of safety that can carry us through when we can't get it (with abusive families or pandemics, for example). At their worst, drugs are a distraction from facing the ways we've hurt other people and doing the hard work to actually belong with people again. Often with addiction, it's both at the same time.

(There is lots of evidence out there about the connection between addiction and belonging. A great entry point is Johann Hari's TED talk called Everything You Know About Addiction is Wrong.)

Moash is particularly vulnerable to wanting to keep Odium's gift for both reasons - he's isolated and lonely, and he wants to avoid thinking about the people he's hurt. He misses the camaraderie of Bridge Four back in Oathbringer, even before his new 'family' of Graves and co are all killed by the Fused. Moash needs to belong, and Odium sucks him in. He's given jobs and gifts and even a new name to show how he is welcomed there. But he's not safe there like he was with Bridge Four, and deep down he knows it. Odium's gift of 'peace' is enough to distract him - to quiet his doubts, and squash any motivation he might have to escape from a very bad situation.

One of the the things that I've noticed is how addicting Odium's powers/boons are. Obviously, we have the Thrill, where people get addicted off the high of killing people. We have the Heart of Revel, where it entices you to indulge.

But I haven't seen much of Moash's addiction to Odium's "peace." Like, I've read it as Moash is drugged. Odium's boon is literally him taking away guilt and hurt and pain. I've never had alcohol or drugs, and a big plan of mine is to never have any, but from the way i've heard and understood it, that's what drugs do. They take away emotions that you don't want to have and artificially create "happy" ones. And then once they wear off, emotions crash in, and you body craves the high from that substance, they don't want to be feeling these "bad emotions."

That's literally what happened to Moash.

#there's some physical aspects of addiction too of course but the psychological ones are most relevant for the Odium situation #Thousands of soldiers feel the Thrill #Adolin included #but most don't get addicted to it like Dalinar did #Same with firemoss - many people use firemoss recreationally but Teft gets addicted #The feeling of rejection and isolation and the sense that they could never be fully accepted - that pushes them deeper #As they face their past mistakes and own up to them and accept that they can do better and they can love and be loved #then they are able to resist more effectively #One might argue that Dalinar's obsession with the Way of Kings is a 'sober addiction' but that's a discussion for another day #cw addiction #cw drugs #moash stormlight #dalinar kholin #teft stormlight #odium stormlight #stormlight archive #rhythm of war #row spoilers #oathbringer #oathbringer spoilers

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muletia · 2 months ago

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𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 ₊˚⊹♡

obsessed!smokescreen x human!reader

summary: you and smokescreen are trying to watch a movie, but his irresistible and constant need for closeness stubbornly gets in the way. will you make it to the end? (spoiler: you won’t)

cw: fluff, suggestive, obsessive thoughts, unhealthy clinginess, possessiveness, very mild not nsfw dub-con, biting/marking, very light manipulation from smokey

word count: 1570

Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Consciousness drifts into another dimension, and your head slowly tilts forward further as you lose contact with reality and embrace sleep with open arms. But alas, sleep is not meant for you—not yet. Your boyfriend is keeping watch, ensuring you continue your fight to stay awake. And when he's near you, he seems unusually attuned to moments like these.

"Hey, hey, don't drift off on me now," he pleads, voice desperate, because this isn’t your first slip-up. "We just started the movie!"

"Ah, sorry," you mumble, rubbing your face to try and wake yourself up, which works. For now.

Your attention returns to the flickering TV screen in the garage, and for a moment, you really do feel alert. You're not proud of how easily you drift off, especially with company, but the day's events are catching up to you, pulling your eyelids downward. You’d promised him you’d finally finish this movie together— you’ve both tried to get through it multiple times, only to be interrupted every single time by something—or rather, someone.

That someone is none other than your personal heater sitting next to you, the primary disruptor of your small private movie nights.

And, as you catch him from the corner of your eye, it's clear he’s got a new idea for spicing up your passive movie-watching routine. His broad smile is utterly contagious, and you fight hard not to let your lips curl. It’s endearing, but you’re not falling for it—not yet. You know exactly where this evening will go if you give him your attention. After all, you’ve lived this scenario many times before.

"Optics on the screen," you chide softly. "We just started the movie, hypocrite."

"Oh, I am watching," he replies, with mock indignation.

"Not me!" you sigh. "We’re not restarting this movie for the tenth time. Look at the screen." You motion toward the brightest source of light in the room.

He knows he should listen. He’s the one who suggested the movie night in the first place. He also chose the film—one of your favorites—because he wanted to experience it with you, to watch your reactions, hear your thoughts, and discuss it afterward. All of it was just a way to interact with you, to be showered in your attention. To absorb it like the finest energon, savoring its addictive sweetness.

It’s not his fault that everything you do is infinitely more interesting than any fiction on the small screen. Sure, he likes human culture and finds it genuinely fascinating—but only because you’re at its center. You’re the one who reveals its secrets, who offers him glimpses of the daily life he so desperately wants to be a part of. Watching movies together lets him simulate that life. He knows he should use every chance to learn more about your world. The problem is, he can’t focus.

It’s not as if there are moments when he thinks of you more or less. No—he’s always thinking about you. Seven days a week, every hour of Earth’s solar cycle. During missions, patrols, recharge—even when he’s with you. It’s suffocating, overwhelming his processor, a constant need to express his untamed emotions, but with no outlet to relieve the ever-growing weight.

Having you by his side is wonderful—feeling your scent, your warmth; brushing shoulders and sharing a blanket. But, ever ambitious, he needs more. Thoughts of you provide only fleeting satisfaction, failing to meet even a fraction of his desire. They leave him helpless once again.

Smokescreen doesn’t want to be just an observer anymore, a witness to the action around him. Those days died with Cybertron.

He wants to feel, touch, and explore, even though he already knows every inch of your body—every mole, scar, and birthmark. Alien, but captivatingly beautiful. Unparalleled softness. Addictive. Meant to be worshipped and adored. It’s no surprise his servos fit your curves perfectly, as if you were made for each other—not just in spark, but in body too. No stimulant could compare to the euphoria of adoring you. No human cinematic masterpiece, no mission, no praise from Optimus Prime himself.

"You’re incorrigible," you sigh. "You just missed the most important part."

Suddenly, he realizes he’s spent the last several kliks staring only at you, fantasizing about physically expressing all the emotions roiling within him. His servos are trembling now, and he has to touch you—to prove how much you mean to him, how vital you are in his life.

Electricity courses through his frame—a signal of surpassing limits. He’s nearing a breaking point, teetering on the edge of abandoning the careful balance of your relationship. Can’t let that happen. He accepts destroying himself, allowing his yearning for you to dictate his sanity, but no scars could ever mar your soul. No matter how many he bears himself.

His trembling servos find the fabric of your shirt and gently tug at it. Enough to send a signal, not to frighten. If you pull away—he’ll shatter.

"Hey," he begins. You glance at him briefly, but your eyes quickly return to the screen. He tugs harder, practically pawing at your stomach now, desperate for attention. "Please, I don’t want to watch the movie anymore. We can finish it another time, can’t we?"

He knows he’s repeating himself, using the same lines he always does. It’s cheap and undignified, unworthy of someone whom even Optimus Prime considered passing the Matrix to. But his need has consumed him, taken over his frame and spark, which craves you so intensely that static buzzes in his audials. Every molecule of his being chants your name, begging for you.

He moves closer, exerting pressure. It’s a dangerous game, one that could easily irritate you. But he’s so desperate he has to play his cards on this gambit.

"I promise we’ll finish it next time, okay? [Name], please, I need you."

"We could also finish it tonight, hmm?" you offer.

"But I already missed the most important part."

"You’re smart—you’ll catch up on the plot." He sees your playful smile, teasing him with your intentions. But this time, he’s too overwhelmed to join in the game.

One servo continues tugging at the edge of your shirt while the other slides beneath it, cautious and precise—while he still has the control to be so.

You finally give in, unable to focus on the film any longer.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that," you warn, finally turning your head toward him.

What greets you are wide, pleading optics, shimmering with need. Begging for you. Beautiful, but deceptive. Luring you into a trap. Or maybe you’ve already been ensnared? Enchanted into letting him do more—letting his servo wander further up, finding its way to your chest.

"Incorrigible," you murmur, tilting your head slightly to one side, exposing your neck—his canvas for the evening. "But at least I’m not sleepy anymore."

"Good," he purrs near your neck. Warm, processed air brushes against your sensitive skin. "I’m going to show you how much you mean to me. I’m afraid it’ll take a very long time."

Servos press tightly to your body, while dentas leave their mark, creating art from love bites—one of his favorite human inventions. Such a pity he couldn’t bear them himself—would flaunt them proudly if he could.

"I wish they lasted forever," he whispers, kissing the bruised skin, already intoxicated by your closeness, even though it’s only a fraction of what he craves.

"And I don’t," you admit. His response is a hurt whine, but Smokescreen quickly resumes his work, moving slightly higher. His marks always came out messy, more like bites than love bites, but he was so proud of them that you couldn’t bring yourself to criticize him. At least, not directly.

"One of my friends noticed them once. She thought I’d been mauled by a wild animal."

You feel him smile against your skin because it’s an accurate description of his love. Wild, untamed.

"Sorry," but it's also unimaginably tender. "But you like them, right? I’m good at this, aren’t I?"

"You’re unmatched, love."

Not sensing the sarcasm, he holds you tighter, as if he wants to merge you both into one being. Feels his trembling spark yearning for a bond, a union with yours. And while you can’t grant him that, the mere act of sharing the most intimate, vulnerable parts of himself is satisfactory. Not enough, because nothing ever will be. Just like the love bites, the most blissful interfacing, or kisses and cuddles. They work for a brief moment, a fraction of existence. They fill the void, which begins emptying the moment you part.

"I need more," he groans. "Please. I need you."

"I wish you were this eager about watching movies."

You reach for the remote because yet another movie attempt has ended in failure. Your boyfriend doesn’t appreciate your effort to put some distance between you, even for a few millimeters. His servos hold you firmly in place, and his dentas possessively catch your neck. Luckily, you don’t have to reach far.

"We’ll manage next time," he promises, though the absent tone of his voice makes it clear he’s lying. You know he won’t last. He’ll falter at the start, trying to make up for lost time by showering you with affection, though it’ll only be a fraction of what he wants to give.

"Hard to believe that."

"Mhm, love you too," he mutters, utterly enraptured by your closeness.

#transformers x reader #smokescreen x reader #obsessed!smokescreen

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