#cw dogs being gross

[clemtyne]

Having irl cis (even queer) friends as a violent tranny is so weird sometimes so like you’re just gonna be weird about my body and identity. All of the time. Even when I tell you to stop? Oh okay I see I get it now

[coulsonlives]

can i

umm

what the actual fuck is wrong with people

[tacticalprincess]

cw blood kink, period sex🩸

könig who doesn’t just not mind period sex, but craves it. he’s overbearing and doting at the slightest inkling of a wince from you, at your side with chocolate and offers of massages for your back-aches. he really should be desensitized to all kinds of blood at this point, though you feel like he can sniff out yours from a mile away. the knowledge that you’re bleeding underneath your comfy clothes has his cock stiffing up in his pants, puppy dog-eyeing you until you convince him to let him fuck the cramps away. he flushes when you complain about how gross he is for liking it so much.

gets so engrossed in the sight of your sloppy, warm cunt coating his hard shaft in a pretty crimson sheen that he forgets this is supposed to be for you. loves how your face pinches up adorably in a mix of agony and pleasure while his cock knocks into your shedding, cramping uterus. you’re extra wet and docile for him - knees to your chest - the glide of his swollen shaft slippery and noisy, large hands pressing down on the bulge of himself in your tummy while he grinds deep inside your sweltering heat. you feel him twitch inside you every time your cramps make you clench around him, walls clinging to every protruding vein lining his thick meat. the notion of being inside you at such a vulnerable time has him shooting off inside you prematurely, but seeing his pearly cum leaking out alongside thick clumps of blood is enough to make him chub up all over again, ready for another round moments after pulling out.

[machveil]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Fic Recommendations Pt 2🎀✨

this post will contain sfw and nsfw content - nsfw below the cut! please support the writers!! they deserve a lot of love for sharing their fics with us<3 comment, reblog, and like their posts - gonna be real, I’d just binge their blogs because let’s be honest… everything they write goes incredibly hard

SFW:

starting strong with @tojisun! hugs and kisses, have coming home to… Simon? and some subspace

can’t not include @gremlinmodetweeker and their Ghost Icks post

@simonsrileyhusband is up next with Teen!Simon helping Teen!Reader come out to their parents

a fan favourite, @khioneee’s fic about Simon’s instinct to protect

the start to a series that has ruined me, @majinbangus’s fic about Johnny getting you a ‘dog’

from @themotherofhorses, holding Simon while he cries

@simonbrain gave us Simon being good with kids

@chaosandmarigolds was fantastic and wrote Traditional!Simon Riley

@midnight-shadow-cafe, and their big, beautiful brain, served up Closer Than You Think

our lovely @xoxunhinged wrote about Simon taking you out and Simon being clumsy

aah!! @dante-mightdie is serving up some angst with Simon and BlueCollar!Simon Riley

@puff0o0 was so, so sweet and gave us kissing Simon’s gun and Simon with a cold partner

@fishsinsareacknowledged wrote about Simon destressing with you and hugging Simon

love this from @i-love-you-just-the-same, telling Simon “we’re getting married”

hi, dmitriene actually posted this as I was finishing up the masterlist so… it’s fresh!! Simon letting himself rest

and, from @leafavleo’s wonderful blog, push ups with Simon

please make sure to read content warnings (CW) and/or trigger warnings (TW)! your comfort comes first, check the fic before you read it<3

NSFW:

is it really a masterlist if I don’t include @codnasties? thought so, we’re indulging in a little Dom!Ghost taking care of his princess and CNC with Simon

@k6tzie gave us some CoD 🌽!links and Sub!Virgin!Ghost

we’re going to round back to tojisun! I might have a bias for their fics… maybe. listing them off in no particular order: DadBod!Simon Riley, Biker!Simon Riley, Simon bullying into you, Simon Riley’s breeding kink, loving sex, oral fixation, practicing for Simon and a follow up post - toji!!! love you, pookie<3

a GN! and Male!Reader writer, our beloved simonsrileyhusband again! Loser!Simon Riley x Older!Reader, Loser!Virgin!Simon, Loser!Simon Riley, Older!Simon, size kink, and sucking off Simon

hello, hello @simonrillleyyysss, we love Ghost on your period and (tbf it can be read as sfw, but it’s in nsfw just to cover my bases) sucking on Simon’s nipples

@simonriley09, smooches, Inexperienced!Simon Riley x Virgin!Reader and (specifically held off on reblogging just to put it in here first) public sex with Simon

back to simonbrain, Simon’s depraved and Simon and his harmless bird

OKAY. dante-mightdie popped off with Butcher!Simon Riley - can we make that clear? okay, Butcher!Simon Riley being a little gross, Butcher!Simon Riley taking you in the break room, camping with Butcher!Simon Riley, and Butcher!Simon Riley needs a hand

@yawnderu wrote a wonderful sex pollen fic

guess what… another sex pollen fic from @shotmrmiller

@lxvvie made my brain blue screen with grey sweatpants, little Lieutenant Riley, and it’s yours

we all clap and cheer, it’s @evilgwrl with Simon’s too big

@ghouljams… thanking you every day for Cerberus!Ghost

b-b-b- @bi-writes! mwah, Ghost doesn’t take his mask off

another one from @navybrat817 where Simon fucks you with the mask on

did someone say @dmitriene? I did! collaring Simon, Simon being gentle, and rough sex with Simon

big brain moment from @theorist-fox, Simon’s not a stallion in bed and I’m unwell for this

speaking of unwell, @lovelyghst wrote about his Jacob’s ladder

@lvrsrequ3st gave us Simon edges you

@girlyteengirlcore’s overstim with Simon fic, wonderful

Subtle Thirst by @blingblong55, tasty, yummy, scrumptious

@maskedbyghost’s fic where Simon recites his vows is so very good

so, we’re back to majinbangus… oh boy. Simon gets a bath and pulling Simon’s collar, but like, read through the series, I’m begging you

@nighttimealone wrote some humping with Simon, love to see it

“do you think you'll kill for me one day?” from @cherie-doll

@thedivinetexts gave us Simon sharing you with the 141

@khioneee wrote about Simon being too big and Simon’s voice

@beloveds-embrace wrote a little something, too heavy? never

@musouie wrote about how Simon begs

@konigsblog served up some Bull!Simon x Cow!Reader oh my god

and, last but certainly not least, an oral fixation from @fictionismyreality3

[moondirti]

sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.

cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI

he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.

the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.

for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.

if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.

the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.

maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–

your dog's cute. what's his name?

it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.

you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.

unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.

he's tired of holding back.

[starlinehoney]

cw: fingering, male sub, humping, innocent!art, slight religious themes, reader is very sexual and art is very virgin, art thinks of Patrick while with you which could mean nothing. Took inspiration from @artdcnaldson and her virgin!art au.

NSFW under the cut

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I love innocent!art I DONT CARE IF ITS CANON

Art had never touched a girl like this before. He’d kissed them, and sometimes they’d touch him through his shorts, but he was always too nervous to go further. From the way Patrick talked about it, he didn’t know if he was prepared. He doesn’t know how to be assertive or dominant. He likes to be sweet, he likes to be.. taken care of.

Of course, he’s watched porn. He’s seen the girls who step on guys and spank them and make fun of them, but that’s just porn. And he’s honestly not sure he wants that either. He just wants to make whoever he’s with feel good, and he.. hasn’t exactly learned how to do that.

But you.. you showed him a whole new world. You were like some sort of sex goddess.. you just knew how to take care of him. You knew exactly what he was thinking— you let him just.. explore you. You were perfect.

He’d liked you for a while now, and you weren’t exactly shy about how you wanted him. So one night, you finally got him into your apartment. It took some puppy dog eyes, but at the end of the day, he couldn’t resist.

Just as he feared, you’re immediately on top of him, kissing him with such.. need. He’s never felt that before. Most girls are always hesitant.. more slow, cautious movements. You just immediately took over, and that made the blood rush straight from one head to the other. He felt lightheaded, and your lipgloss was so sticky and you smelled so good.. he was overwhelmed and fidgety, you could sense his nervousness from a mile away.

“…are you a virgin?” He hears you mutter against his lips. He pulls away slightly as he watches an almost wicked grin grow on your previously sweet looking lips. He blinks a few times at the question. What does he say to that? It’s embarrassing. You know the answer by how he flushes from the tips of his ears down his neck, and somehow, your smile only grows.

He sees how you slightly bite your lip. He can’t help but think you’re a little too excited by the idea of him being a virgin— the look on your face reminds him of how Patrick looked when he found out Art had never jerked off. The face of someone who was about to change his life.

“have you ever touched a girl before?” You ask sweetly, softly. There’s an almost motherly tone to your voice, and it makes his head all fuzzy. He shakes his head after a moment, stuttering out a small “no” as he bats his long eyelashes up at you. He’s so hard it hurts, and all he can focus on his how you’re pressing against him while straddling his lap. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so they just rest at his sides. He wants to touch you, feel you, worship you.. but that’d be too much, right?

He feels your hand touch his own. God, they’re probably all gross and clammy. Now that’s all he can think about. He’s about to start a small apology for his nervous state when he feels his fingers press against something warm and wet. His eyes flit to where his arm leads and he sees his hand underneath your skirt. “You want me to—“ he asks, seeming almost concerned. But when he looks up, you just.. nod. So simply, without a care in the world. And suddenly, he can’t remember why he was so nervous. You’re here..you’ll teach him. You’ll take over where Patrick left off.

He feels around and stops when he hears you make a small noise “was that bad?” He asks ashamedly, but regains his little dignity when you frantically shake your head. He furrows his brow slightly when you tell him to keep doing it, but does as you ask. You’re the expert.

He runs his slender fingers over the raised area over and over and over, eyes trained on your face as he watches you lose your composure. “Inside— put them inside.” You say as you hold back a small moan and he nods, searching eagerly for your entrance. He runs his fingers over the slick skin and finds it rather quickly, slowly inserting his middle finger. He moans at the feeling just as you do— it’s so pleasant inside of you. It’s soft and warm, and so.. close, you’re constricting around his finger like you never want it to leave.

He begins to feel around there, too. Pressing against a particularly squishy spot that piques his interest as you grind on his palm and his lap. He feels himself getting more and more warm, and he feels an all too familiar knot building in his stomach.

Guilt creeps in as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. You haven’t even touched him and he’s about to soil his boxers. How pathetic. Not to mention all he can look at is how hot you look like this. Flushed cheeks, kiss-bitten lips, your boobs in his face. There’s a soft light coming from your desk lamp that shines through your messy hair, and he swears that you’re a god, or an angel.. or something. You can’t feel this good, and look that way, and be.. a person. People have flaws, but you’re just.. perfect.

Your moans get more frequent and loud, so much that he can now hear you over his own whimpers and whines. He wants to tell you to stop, to avoid the humiliation of cumming in his pants. But you feel too good, and he can’t resist the thought of cumming with you. It’s like an obsession now, it keeps replaying in his brain and he has to have it be his reality.

He hears you chant his name and give him a quick warning of your impending orgasm before planting your lips back on his. He whines into your mouth as he tips over the edge and you groan as you do the same. You’re humping against eachother like dogs in heat, and there’s something so beautiful about how you made eachother feel so much with so little.

As you come down, he’s still humping against you, despite the encroaching overstimulation. He wants to feel you as much as possible. You smile “does that feel good?” You ask in that motherly tone, regaining your composure with impressive ease, and he stops like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. He flushes and mutters soft apologies into your shoulder, letting out a pathetic whimper when you tell him to keep going.

He learns a lot that night..

[auspicioustidings]

Any version of Soap in any position of power would be soooo disgusting, calling IT Security reader at all times of the day and telling her that the speaker on his computer doesn’t work, while he’s clearly streaming some porno in the background 😭😭😭

You get it Lumi, he's a sick freak :) You also sent this while I happen to be working through 1k requests so bonus short for you <3

Back Chat

Words: 1k

CWs: non-con groping, just all around gross awful Soap

Sergeant John MacTavish was the reason you had poured over your contract for any get out clause that didn't cost you a fortune. You came up with nothing. The military had paid for a high end training course for you on the provision that if you left the role within 2 years then you had to pay every penny back.

Plus this job paid well and the benefits were great. You didn't even mind having gruff military personnel seeing fit to give you a bollocking over the phone because you would be following procedure whether they liked it or not and they could file a damn ticket if they wanted their issue looked at. Generally they were an OK bunch at heart, but rough around the edges and used to recruits eager to please them. When they realised your lack of any rank also excused you from being ordered around by anyone but your actual boss they usually mellowed out.

Of course you had made the mistake of chewing out one such gruff man after he called in a temper demanding that his laptop be fixed as a priority. Not even his work laptop, no he wanted his personal laptop fixed.

“Look MacTavish was it?”

“Sergeant MacTavish tae you.”

“No it isn't. I am not one of your soldiers. I work in IT for the military, your laptop is not military property so I'm not touching it. Use your big boy Sergeant wage and buy a new one.”

“Listen here ye wee bitch-”

You hung up on him and got on with your day right up until he physically showed up at your office on base. You handled IT for multiple bases, you had not considered that the person you had chewed out would actually work on this one. Oops.

He was a big motherfucker as well. Handsome. Crazy scary dog energy. Definitely not your usual soldier with his lack of uniform (unless jeans and a t-shirt that was so tight he was liable to tear out of it was uniform these days) and out of regulation haircut. You scrambled to try and stand but he was already looming over you in your chair, leaving you no space to do so as he settled his hands on the armrests and leaned over you to get into your face.

“I'll need tae settle for you then hen. Better make it good.”

“Excuse me?”

“The lassie on my laptop begs tae get it up the arse. Is a good girl for a thick cock pounding her tight cunt. Even when she's fucked oot her nut and ruined she still gags around a man down her throat and swallows like a proper bitch.”

You were flooded with fear and arousal. Nobody had ever spoken to you like that and you weren't entirely sure he was joking. He wouldn't actually do anything to you right? He was just being a dick because he wanted his laptop fixed. Just trying to intimidate you.

“And I bet she gets paid a lot more than me MacTavish, back off.”

Oh no. There was a feral gleam in his eye and a rabid grin that showed those sharp incisors. He clearly relished your response.

“Then I'll need to buy ye with, what was it? Right. My big boy Sergeant wage.”

He leaned in close and took a deep breath. Christ he was sniffing your currently greasy and messy hair. You hadn't showered in like 2 days, you were fucking IT, it wasn't like people usually came to physically see you in your little den.

“...I'll fix your fucking laptop oh my God just bring it by.”

“Atta girl” he all but panted into your ear before tugging at the lobe with his teeth and then fully tounging at your ear hole.

The sensation was truly the most awful thing you had ever felt. Your skin crawled and your body shivered uncomfortably as you tried to push him away from you. He chuckled and you choked on your own saliva as he firmly smacked your pussy before pulling away.

“I'll bring it right doon.”

You were left completely gobsmacked in your little office, your body hopped up on adrenaline and your cunt throbbing from the spank it had gotten and from the sick part of your mind that found the whole thing depraved and disgusting but sort of titillating.

When he brought the laptop back he hovered behind you while you worked on it, making you sweat. It was an easy enough fix and you sighed in relief and carefully avoided eye contact when you told him it was fixed.

“Ye’ll check it over, cannae be sending me away with a half done job.”

“You can see that it's working.”

He leant over, arms surrounding you so he could scroll over to open a video file. It was of a woman being railed hard from behind, drooling into the pillow and babbling for more. The wet squelch was disgusting, the man spitting down on her and smacking her already red ass.

“Speakers are fucked.”

You squirmed in your seat.

“I can hear it just fine.”

“Aye? What are ye hearing then?”

You remained silent, eyes fixed on the wall instead of on the screen. At least you were silent until he drew a yelp from you by groping one of your tits.

“Told ye, if ye cannae prove that it's fixed I'll need to settle for you. Bit shorter, softer and dirtier than my lassie mind, so got tae give it yer full effort.”

“I-It's working!”

“Prove it, what ye hearing?”

He made you replicate the whole script from each broken moan to the begging to the degrading. He was only satisfied when the whole video had run its course, by which time he had a hand on either tit, rough with how he groped and tugged.

“See now? Wisnae so hard to follow a Sergeant's orders was it?”

“No” you mumbled, crying out when he gripped your nipples through your shirt and twisted. “No Sergeant!”

He let go then, closing the lid of the laptop and standing with it to leave.

“Got an LT having trouble with his phone, he's naw as friendly as me though so best limit the back chat soldier.”

[poppy-metal]

IM GOING BACK TO COACH PATRICK, FUCK IT

because he like. he knows how awful this is - you're like, probably barely twenty, for christsake. but you look at him with such dumbstruck adoration and he realises what it's like to hold that kind of real power over someone for the first time and he wonders if this is what him and art looked like that sunny afternoon watching tashi play.

and he knows hes a horrible, perverted, gross old man, because your backstroke is as clean and powerful as hers was. your cloying, puppy-dog voice whenever you're trying to get something you want is just like his. and maybe you're just a really fucking good tennis player. maybe he's making the resemblances up in his head.

but it doesnt matter because when you're face-down in your frilly pink bed begging for him to "fuck me harder, daddy, please, fuck--" he can pretend.

of course, he actually comes down to the even more horrible realization he might be in love with you. outside of your resemblance to his former lovers. which is a whole nother can of worms.

as is the first big tennis event you attend with patrick zweig as your coach - running right into the donaldsons. who think your game is great, and wouldn't you like to play with them sometime?

-toxic poly kit ♡

tw for: TOXIC POLYCULE IN THE MAKING. LIKE SO TOXIC. LIKE TASHI AND PATRICK ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE AND NEITHER IS ART FOR THAT MATTER. READER NEEDS TO BE FAR AWAY FROM THESE PEOPLE BUT HER FATE IS SEALED.

cw: toxic age gap dynamics, cheating (not really but it feels like it), everyone but reader being a POS. age play talk hinted at but not explicitly on page, mommy and daddy kink. some dubcon mentioned as well.

I'm playing with the idea in my head of patrick using you as a distraction (at first) and later on - a way to get art and tashis attention. he knows them. he knows that seeing him be the coach of some up and coming tennis prodigy would grind their gears. you notice how tense he is on the day you play against donaldson - how much seriously he'd taken preparing you for this match. and you can see why. you're excellent, but art wipes the floor with you. you keep up as best you can but you've never gone against someone that intense before. by the end you're dripping sweat in rivers and panting. you feel sick, thinking you let down patrick, but when you meet him he's ecstatic. grinning ear to ear. he said he knew you wouldn't beat art - that wasn't the point. the point was to make him sweat a little, and you had. you'd gained both his and tashis attention with your style. he promises to take you out for ice cream later - he just needs to talk to some old friends first.

you wait for hours before you get antsy and go looking for him, the hotel you're staying at is big and the room is lonely without him. you look but you can't find him anywhere. it takes you awhile before you think to check the donaldsons suite. you ask the desk lady what room they're staying in and are surprised when she gives you a room key. says your name is on their guest list, along with patricks. you blink but take the key anyway. it's strange to you, you'd never met art or his coach - wife - before today. even though you'd seen them plenty on TV. you'd look up to them if you weren't already so spellbound by patrick.

you're naive, because you don't think to knock before going in - your mind just wants to see your coach - be near him, you don't mind at all that it's probably rude to drag him away from his friends.

you should have knocked.

you halt in the doorway as the sight before you registers. slowly like through molasses.

alot of bare skin. you recognize patricks body immediately, having felt it against your own plenty of times.

it's not just his body though. it's his and tashis and arts and they're all undressed and tashi is riding - she's riding patrick like she's done it a hundred times before, moaning loudly as she bounces up and down on that same cock you've felt inside you. patricks hands are on her waist - gripping her like a lifeline. you can hear his grunts too, he's chanting her name - over and over again in reverence. in adoration. your stomach twists.

and art, the man who'd you gone toe to toe with on the other side of the net just hours before is lying beside the two writhing bodies, slowly stroking his cock as he bites his bottom lip, seeming content to watch for the moment.

none of them heard you come in.

you don't know why you stand and watch for as long as you do. some twisted sense of masochism. you feel stupid you think, for thinking you meant anything to patrick other than a tight body to fuck and a ticket to land him where he is now. you feel stupid and so you burn this Image into your head and let it hurt you so you'll learn to not be this stupid ever again.

morbidly, you think of how beautiful they all look together. and how this isn't the first time they've all slept together. the ease of which their bodies move is too fluid.

tashi leans down and you get a view of her bare pussy split around patricks cock - she murmurs something to him, something that makes his fingers come around and dig into her ass as he hisses her name. something that makes arts hand speed up on his cock.

it's when his fist is wrapped around his tip that his eyes flick to the door idily - your eyes connect and his hand freezes on his dick. his pink lips part in shock and he sits up, the motion catching tashis attention and she turns her head, hips still moving on patrick. and something about that - about locking gazes with tashi in particular - sends you stumbling back.

you spin around and dart out of the room. you hear the sound of shuffling, patrick cursing and then calling your name but you're already gone. slamming the door behind you.

you don't really have anywhere to go. patrick drove you here. you're completely dependent on him to go back home. but the thought of patrick finding you right now, all pathetic and confused and heartsick - you can't stomach it.

you don't go back to the room. you leave the hotel entirely. lost in a city you've never been too.

in your pajamas.

people give you strange looks as you pass by and eventually you find a bar. you're not old enough to drink yet - but you're older than 18, so you're allowed in. you wish you could have a shot, but you settle for a glass of coke and cradle the glass in your hands, thinking about what to do.

you'll have to go back eventually.

or you could uber home? it'd be expensive as hell, given you were states away from home. you patted your bottoms stupidly only to realize you'd left your phone in the room.

great. you'd definitely have to face patrick.

you imagined the pitying look he'd give you. like you really thought he had any loyalty to you, that you were special. like his little girlfriend or something. stupid. stupid girl.

you blink in suprise when someone recognizes you from today's match, wanting your autograph. it gives you a moment of levity. at least you have tennis. you did really like the sport. you wanted to keep getting better at it. but could you do that under patrick still? with how you felt? you didn't know. the thought of seeing him at all made you want to throw up.

you spitefully hoped he felt like shit but you doubted he did. you at least hoped he was panicking about where you were. the stress was the least he could suffer.

you dont know how long you sat there. the ice cubes in your coke long since melted. you hadn't yet taken a sip - when you felt someone sit next to you. and a wash of elegant fragrance hit your nose. whoever it was, they had to be rich.

you peeked at them and your fingers twitched around your glass in shock.

tashi.

every hair perfectly in place. dressed to the nines in a simple black slip dress. looking stunning and beautiful and not at all affected by earlier events.

she tilted her head at you, “coke? really?” her lips curl. “don't you think you deserve something stronger?”

your lips part. you dont know what to say to this woman. this woman patrick is obviously in love with. you should spit in her face.

“im not old enough.” is what you say instead. meekly.

“jesus patrick,” she says under her breath. his name on her mouth makes your gut churn. she pinches her brow like she's tired. “at least tell me you're legal.”

“im nineteen” you tell her, a little petulant. you didn't like being treated like a child. well. except those times when patrick - no. don't think about him.

tashis manicured nails tap against the bartop as she studies you. you are reminded of how under dressed you are in comparison to her and twitch under her analytical gaze.

“that's some backhand.” she tells you conversationally and you don't know what to say to that. she's talking to you about tennis right now?

“thank you.” you're compelled to tell her anyway. an automatic response to her praise, which you sense doesn't come often.

it's strange that you want to cry and kick her and ask her for a hug all at the same time.

“have you always been that good?”

you stare down into the liquid of your glass, frowning.

tashi sighs. “you're hurt.” a statement. a noted fact. “patrick didn't tell you about us.”

tears prick your eyes. you don't look at her. so fucking stupid.

“have you been fucking him?”

you glance at her in suprise and she smiles. sly.

“I know you are, actually.”

“he told you?”

“no. but it's obvious.”

you go quiet again.

tashi fills the silence easily. “he's losing his mind looking for you right now. I don't think I've seen him so worried about someone other than himself.”

you try to ignore the way your heart jumps hopefully. fail. stupid. stupid.

“it doesn't matter.” you tell her. “why are you telling me this? you won him.”

she raises a brow.

“there's no winning patrick zweig. hes about as loyal as a dog. which is to say - he'll lick whoever holds a hand out.”

you don't know why you have the desire to defend patrick. you just don't like the way she's talking down about him. you don't think she's right, which is insane to think considering the situation you're in.

but had he ever promised you loyalty?

“you love him.”

another statement.

you don't bother denying it, either.

tashi hums. seeming to appreciate the lack of bullshitting. she shoulders her little clutch and flips her hair smoothly. everything about her is smooth, she moves effortlessly like water.

you can see why patrick wants her.

“come with me.” her hand slips into the dip of your elbow. you don't fight her as she tugs you up. she pays your tab - just an undrunk coke. “I'll get you something real to drink back at the hotel.”

you flinch at the reminder of the scene you walked in on. she sees it and squeezes your arm, guiding you outside. for some reason unknown to you, it comforts you. the touch somehow dominant and maternal all at once. you let her lead you back to the hotel like a lost little lamb.

when you get back to her room - patrick is immediately in your space - he's frantic and relieved and angry all at once. big hands cupping your face. holding you back to inspect you for any damages. worried eyes flicking up and down your body. his fingers dig into your shoulders and he gives you a little shake when he decides you're okay.

“dont ever pull that shit again.” his voice has that serious, pissed tone to it that usually makes your pussy wet. and well, it still does. but now you're genuinely upset.

you smack his hands off you. “don't tell me what to fucking do. you're my coach not my dad. I don't report to you.”

his eyes flash. his jaw ticks. you hate how fucking beautiful he is when he's angry. you hate that you know the reason his hair is wild and stuck in all directions and his shirt is on inside out is because he'd been in the middle of fucking another woman.

said woman who is pouring herself a glass of wine and watching the interaction with thinly veiled interest. art comes up to her, touches her arm, and she gives him a look, seeming to communicate alot with just that. he bites his lip and leans his hip against the dresser, watching you too.

“im not your daddy, huh?” patrick says, mean. “funny because that's not what you said last night when I was inside that tight cun -”

your palm rings from the slap you deliver. his head snaps to the side with the force of it. your eyes burn and you shove a finger into his chest. he looks down at you in shock, his cheek red from your handprint, lips parted as you get in his face.

“and you'll never feel it again.” you tell him, chin wobbling. you force it straight. “I don't want your fucking slimy hands on me ever again.”

patrick works his jaw. licks his teeth and you realize you'd slapped him hard enough to split his lip when he tongues the beading of blood there.

“you're a child.” he tells you. cold.

you glare up at him.

“yeah, one you couldn't keep your dick out of despite being in love with two other people. fucking pervert. I bet you signed up to coach all those girls because no one your age would fuck you and some jailbait pussy would be good for your bruised ego, huh.”

patrick is looking at you like he wants to wrap his hands around your neck and choke you. you almost wish he would. your pulse hammers wildly in your throat, and you shoot a look at tashi and art over his shoulder and she dips her head - something about that motion - like she's giving her approval for you to go on, makes you lick your lips and continue -

“and I bet when I threw myself at you and begged for private lessons it felt real fucking nice to be wanted like that. to have someone in the palm of your hand that thought the world of you, only because she couldn't see the real you -” you step closer, craning your neck to meet him. “- but I see the real you now patrick. and I know you're nothing but a bumfuck loser who couldn't amount to anything on his own, so you had no choice but to manipulate someone more naive than you into thinking you were hot shit.” you gesture to tashi and art. “and they're married, patrick. they're in love. you'll never fully be apart of what they have, but you'll keep taking scraps because you're fucking pathetic when it comes down to it.”

“stop fucking talking.” he grits out. he looks, for the first time, like he hates you. “you don't know shit, little girl.”

good.

“you're right I don't.” you step back. “I don't think I can begin to grasp the dynamic going on here between the three of you, but I do know I want no part in it.”

you reach behind you for the door. “im going back to the room. do what you want and then take me the fuck home tomorrow.”

the snick of the door closing sounds more like a resounding slam. patrick stares at the empty space you occupied and swallows heavily. his chest aches. he rubs his jaw.

“I like her.” tashi says, coming up behind patrick. her breasts push against his back through her dress but he doesn't feel anything. “she reminds me of me at that age. is that why you fucked her?”

patricks lip twist to the side and he steps away from her. turns and glares even though he knows this shit is all his own fault.

“she's nothing like you.” he spits.

“she is and she isn't.” art says. he'd been chewing on his nail, elbow propped up on the dresser. “she has tashis fire. but she's sensitive. vulnerable, too. you really fucked her up, man.”

a pang hits patrick right in the stomach.

“I dont know how to fix it.” he admits miserably. he squeezes his hands into fists. runs a hand through his disheveled hair. puffs out a breath. “she fucking hates me.”

“it'll make her a better player.”

“jesus, tashi. that's not what this was about-”

“I know.” she shrugs. “but it will. she might even beat art next time.”

art snorts, but he doesn't disagree. a big part of him feels so bad for you - he sees himself in you, too. that adoration you had for patrick. that hope and fragile tender heart. it was unfortunate you'd gotten wrapped up in patrick and tashis orbit just like he was, because there really was no escape. you could let it eat you alive and make you miserable, or you could jump into the fire and let the flames consume you. art had made his choice long ago, but the decision hadn't been easy. he just hoped it didn't break you, in the end. he had liked playing with you. would like to do so again.

tashi slid her hand up patricks arm.

he inhaled, “I dont know if…”

“its alright.” she told him, running her other hand down his stomach and cupping his already hard cock through his slacks. patrick moaned, unable to help himself. swaying into her. “I want you to tell me about her while you fuck me.”

arts cock twitched in his sweats despite himself. he swallowed at about the same time patrick did.

“tash.” patrick groaned as she undid the buttons - slid his pants down and gripped his flushed cock. “you're so fucked up.”

tashi just grinned, using her grip on his cock as a leash as she stepped back pulling him with her - art watched like a hungry hawk. already sliding his own hand into his sweats to grip himself.

tashi layed back on the bed like a cat, spread her thighs as patrick leaned over her - guided him inside her -

“tell me how tight she is.” tashi whispered right as he slid home and patricks eyes fluttered shut with a groan as he rocked his hips. tashi gripped his ass to pull him fully against her. “tell me.” she panted.

“she's - fuck - she's so fucking tight. has the smallest fucking pussy -”

tashi hummed and licked her lips - “mm, I bet. did she bleed the first time?”

art cursed as his cock throbbed. tashi looked over at him with a knowing glint in her eyes as he flushed with shame. tugged on his cock helplessly as he waited with baited breath for patricks answer.

“Yeah. shit, yeah.” patrick hunched over tashi, working his hips faster. the smack of their flesh starting to fill the room. “but she wanted it. so fucking much - fucking - fuck - begged me to put it in again when I pulled out.”

tashis eyes fluttered, her own flush filling her cheeks. art realized she was getting off on this too, it wasn't just about teasing patrick. art groaned. his wife was such a fucking sadist and he loved her for it.

“begged her daddy to break her little virgin pussy in -” she goaded, wrapping her legs around him. “know she calls you that. can see it all over her face. you're such a dirty old man.” she moaned, the insult having no heat with how turned on she sounded by it. “she's in her room crying and her daddys gonna cum in my pussy thinking about fucking his little girl.”

jesus christ.

the sound patrick let out was animalistic. he pressed tashi down into the bed - fucked her hard and fast and tashi squealed - wrapped her arm around his shoulder and whispered dark things in his ear that art couldn't hear but just the image of it all - the debauchery of what they were all doing- getting off to you- he was so close -

“should've made her stay - should've fucked the brat out of her while me and art watched - should have fucked me in front of her and made her lick your cum out of my pussy, fuck. I wanna see you fuck her - I wanna see how that tight little pussy takes this big cock - you're not gonna listen to her are you? she doesn't mean it. she wants you to touch her, she wants you to force yourself into her disobedient cunt and show her who her daddy is. she doesn't control you. daddy fucks who he wants. she needs to be punished - she needs - fuck - she needs to be broken in more - you should let me do it - let mommy have a go at her - let me play with your little girls pussy - let art have her too. we'll show her. we'll make her good again for her daddy -”

dark promises whispered and pressed against patricks ear until he came inside her with a roar. imagining you under him, with all of them there, watching him force his load deep inside you.

in your room, you lay on the hotel bed and wondered what the future would hold. for the first time, you were nervous about it.

[talkbycolor]

jester-shaped fucktoy

A/N; have you ever had sex with a clown? It sounds like honk honk with every thrust

Pairing; "Damon" x AFAB!Reader (im starting to consider to make the reader no tits, no pussy, no dick, just a barbie doll with a hole man)

CW; this is a little gross ngl, just sweaty sex / unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, just like the hentais teached me / rough sex, heavy overstim, fucking like animals just like the song / circus scenario, porn without plot / this is just smut but hey, dont be shy and request something / this counts as an AU?

You were never the main attraction of the show, a jester whose only function was to demonstrate clumsiness in presentations, a cute clown.

So how did you end up spread-eagled in your dressing room?

There was a man in reddish clothes thrusting into your fat pussy, you didn't even know his name, you had barely finished the show that night when he showed up at the door of your trailer proclaiming to be a big fan.

"AH SHIT! FUCK! RIGHT THERE!" You moaned as your trembling hands tried to hold onto his shoulders, you screamed so loudly that your circus buddies could probably hear you from their trailers, the guy was huge compared to you, he grunted and howled every time his thick penis wedged itself between the folds of your abused Damn, it was like having sex with a wolf instead of the adorable fan who had sheepishly introduced himself a couple of minutes ago.

Because you had just had a performance, you were so sweaty and having sex right now only made it worse, you were melting in his arms as he fucked you against the dresser in your dressing room, practically dripping as your clown makeup ran down your cheeks, combined with sweat and pleasurable tears from being fucked so well.

"P-Please, PLEASE! I'M GOING TO PISS!" You whimpered, your body reacting on its own, saliva dripping down your chin as you begged him to slow down, your ass ached from the clash of skin and your peach was as red as your lipstick.

"Hey, is everything okay in there?" Someone knocked on the door of the trailer, which shook a little from the intense movement of the event that was happening inside. The stranger with fangs only growled when he heard a new voice wanting to interrupt the fun.

"Everything's fine! t-everything is perfect, give me a second!" You warned, putting all your effort and self-control into ensuring that your words didn't come out like the desperate screams of a whore who was being fucked at that moment.

The person outside the dressing room had probably understood the situation long before hearing you so no one else asked again.

Making out wildly with a fan inside your trailer while he put his penis in your hole was not something you had in mind due to the hectic life you had.

But hell, it wasn't something you turned down either.

Not long after, you choked a scream in his throat as you reached your orgasm, feeling like you were choking on the stranger's tongue, your breathing was erratic and your body was shaking violently, you had already come but he didn't stop, moving his hips like a dog. wanting to knot and fill you completely.

"You'd look so adorable swollen with my seed, you wouldn't mind me inseminating you, right?" He spoke between grunts, they weren't even coordinated thrusts anymore, his voice sounded so agitated as he panted like a dog in search of his orgasm.

"This fucking pussy is all mine, I'm going to fill you so many times that you won't be able to appear in any performance for a whole week, you'll spend those days getting out all the semen that I'm going to put in you" He said as he gently chewed your ear, his tongue going shamelessly on your sweaty skin, biting your neck until leaving several marks in shades of carmine and violet.

At that point he was just desperately licking every drop of sweat from your body, he was also dripping and not just semen, the splash between skin was a combination of precum and sweat, and the entire trailer smelled of sex.

"But how easy, you offer your ass to every fan who talks to you?" That sounded a little more threatening, like he was genuinely angry and the thought of you being with others was enough to make him furious.

So furious that he grabbed your hips until he left violent marks.

"F-FUCK! P-PLEASE! I HAVE NOT BEEN WITH ANYONE, ONLY WITH YOU!" You moaned between whimpers at the delicious pain, now he moved with more force, you could almost swear that you felt the head of his penis making an effort to enter your cervix.

Overexertion made you a stupid whore, you had urinated yourself even when he was pounding into you, isn't that pathetic? You were drooling shamelessly and your head was ringing as you didn't even recognize what was happening, you just knew that he felt too good despite having your cunt numb from the amount of stimulation he was receiving.

Grinding his hips against your entrance finally brought about his orgasm, cumming in large quantities until your belly looked a little more swollen, proud of that work he spread your legs in a perfect split, you were quite flexible after all.

As for you? A trembling doll that only let out pathetic gasps and his head was too screwed to be able to say coherent words, you even laughed softly.

The guy brought his forehead together with yours and kissed your lips, your lipstick was already a disaster so you returned the kiss more than gladly.

"I'm Damon, and I was serious about being a big fan…can we go on a date?"

He introduced himself even though you probably couldn't even figure out what was going on, you could only whimper with a satisfied smile.

"I… sure" You smiled exhausted.

♡

[fastboatsmojito]

🕸️𖤐 Promptober Day Six - Knife Kink 𖤐🕸️

| a/n; switched around a few days on the schedule because this has been marinating since September and driving me crazy <3

Promptober schedule here!

| cw; 18+ smut btc, please please be safe, this is fiction!!! Knife play obviously, only Halloween-y because of the weather, afab! Gn reader, degradation, Scott being mean and nasty, a little dacryphilia, a splash of hair pulling, size kink if you squint, slapping (once), he talks to you like a bad dog for a second my fault, no mention of condoms - b safe !! Matching each others FREAK

| wc; 1,666 <3

He’s doing it again, pulling the folding knife out of its meticulous place in his pocket and sliding it open in the seat next to you. He never used it unless he had to but you saw it often enough for it to make your head spin, and without fail anytime it was out your eyes were glued to it.

To his fingers gripping the handle with more care than was usual for him, it was hard to look away when that attentive, analytical side of him came out.

This time simply for the invisible-to-anyone-that-isn’t-a-clean-freak string attached to the hem of his shirt, cutting it off quick and clean as you stared, eyes locked on the silver tucked between his fingers.

He looked up at you as you dazed, low voice finally emerging you out of your brain.

“Why do you do that?” He asked simply, watching you blankly as you froze.

“Do what?” You weren’t completely sure what he was asking, blindly hoping that the way his hand slightly twitched around the knife in his grasp wasn’t a sign he could suddenly read your mind and every filthy thought encompassing it.

“Stare at me like that every time I use this.” He’s carefully pointing the blade at you now, eyes following it before landing back on your own. He doesn’t sound mad but he might as well be the way you’re shifting in your seat like he’s scolding you.

“I don’t-“ You shake your head, scrambling to find the words that just won’t come out, he’s being frustratingly direct and it’s only adding to the familiar ache you tend to feel around him.

“Don’t lie. Just answer the question.”

“I just, um-“ Your eyes moved to your hands as you spoke, the eye contact suddenly too intense to handle.

“I think it’s kinda hot- when you use it.” Your words were pressed against each other, coming out just above a whisper as you anxiously tapped your fingers against your thigh.

“Use…” You sighed as he pushed you to say exactly what you meant, your face heating up at his suggestive tone.

“Your knife.” You look up only after you say it, subconsciously pressing your thighs together as he examined your every reaction, pausing even the movement of his jaw to observe your own.

His hand still holding the knife paired with his stern voice and intense stare was quickly turning you into a puddle, and it wasn’t not obvious.

“Right.” He nodded simply, gauging your reaction. Everything seemingly frozen in time resumed, the stationary gum in his mouth back to keeping him focused, his fingers pushing the knife closed before shoving it back into his pocket.

For a second you were scared he thought it was gross, shamefully watching as he opened his car door to get out. Half expecting him to call you a fucking freak, and he usually would, but you figured he was either into it as much as you were or uncharacteristically sparing your feelings to use it against you later.

He sighed at your uncomforted expression and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt before getting out and walking over to open your door.

“Come on.” He tilted his head towards the motel rooms just behind him, reassuringly placing a hand on the back of your neck as he guided you into his room.

——

It wasn’t long before you were on the bed under him as he sat on his knees between your open legs, gasping when he flicked the knife open and rested it just under the hem of your underwear.

The quiet pattering of the rain against the windows and the lull of your shared heartbeats kept you just grounded enough to not slip all the way into your head.

Into the steady chill outside that was cut off by the door, and brought back in again through the cool blade lying on your skin. Into the comfort in knowing that you were safe even with the unavoidable threat of something so sharp against something so fragile.

It felt suffocating in the same way your head gets fuzzy when you go just a few seconds too long underwater, an agonizing instinct to pull yourself back up and a louder, sharper, sicker need to see how long you can stay under.

“I won’t hurt you on purpose but you have to be still, okay?” Your eyes were stuck on the smooth silver, humming when his other hand moved to the nape of your neck, pulling your hair just enough to bring your now tear-brimmed eyes back to him.

“I mean it. Don’t need you bleeding out all over the bed, got it?” You nodded until the hand still gripping your hair tightened.

“I got it, I trust you.” You both knew you meant it, you’d be scared if anyone else held your life in their hands like this but this is Scotty - a nickname he’d only ever let leave your mouth - he was always so precise and observant, you knew you had no real reason to be worried.

“I know.” The hand behind your head suddenly soothing, the dull side of the knife slowly dragging down your leg as he leaned in to kiss you. It was soft, sweet, everything you knew he wasn’t about to be and you basked in it, always savoring every second of sweetness he spared before giving you what you really wanted - what you needed.

You whined when he pulled away anyway, desperation falling over you as he took his time, hand behind your head moving down to your hip to keep you still as he moved the tip of the knife to your inner thigh.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was about to do but even in the low lit room you could see the faintest smile on his face. Every move he made felt calculated, like he’d planned every second of it in his head days before.

He gripped your waist tighter before he tipped the knife down so the width of it was just against the wet spot on the fabric between your legs, closely watching the way your mouth fell open at the sudden cold.

The silver gift you got for him - that he swore he wouldn’t wear out of the house - fell out from his black undershirt, glistening against his neck. Your hands moved from the bed either side of you to appreciate the jewelry you knew he’d look good in - he wasn’t always great at talking about how he felt but he knew just well enough how to show it.

He carefully brought the knife away from you and lightly trailed it all the way up your body, over every part of you it could reach, finally drawing over your collarbone before slowly creeping back down again.

You lost count of just how many times he’d done it - you couldn’t possibly be wetter and he couldn’t possibly care less - admiring the soft pleas falling from your mouth, knife-less hand now on the side of your face as his thumb wiped away the tears of frustration pouring out of you.

“Scott, please-“ You begged for what felt like the millionth time, he was clearly enjoying tantalizing you, sighing and pulling back and finally bringing his hands to drag the ruined fabric down and off of you.

You pouted when he closed the knife and set it down on the bed, shaking his head and pointing a finger at you when you moved to sit up.

“Stay.” He said firmly, bed creaking just so as he stood up to free himself from his pants, eyes focused on your own as you waited on him. He could do this for hours and he had, letting you whine and beg and cry for it first. He wouldn’t this time, noticeably impatient as he resumed his previous position over you.

Before you could ask - or more accurately beg, he sat down on the bed, head resting against the headboard before signaling for you to come up with two fingers. He promptly grabbed your hips so you were sitting on his lap before reaching for the closed knife once again.

Your bare cunt was situated on the bulge under you, your hands planted on your thighs. He wrapped the still-closed knife wielding hand around you to lift you up, lazily pulling his dick out with the other. It was irritating how easy it was for him, so casually showing off his strength when you were alone.

He covered himself in the slick dripping out of you, groaning when he swiftly sat you down on him, keeping you motionless over him with a hand at your waist.

He flipped open the knife with his other hand away from you, undeniably feeling you clench around him when he finally brought the cold blade up to your skin again. He had the perfect view in this position, enough control over where his hands were precisely placed to keep you safe even with a knife at your throat.

“I knew you were far from innocent, sweetheart, but this is really fucked up.” You barely heard it over the rain that was rapidly hitting the windows. Ignoring the filthily mocked nickname and filthier implication, you let go of the breath you’d been holding since you confessed your dirty little secret.

His sharp comment finally leaving his mouth and taking with it all of the worry running through you that, even while literally inside of you, he’d think less of you for it.

You were practically just cockwarming at this point, pawing at his chest to try and convince him to fucking move already. You knew he’d be moving your hips for you soon but you complained anyway.

Rolling your eyes and hastily circling your hips at his seeming lack of urgency, earning yourself a cautionarily soft slap on the cheek.

“You’re mean.” You cried, almost throwing your head back in protest before he held the blade under your chin to keep you steady in place.

“Careful. Thought I told you not to move. Be good and stay still for me so I don’t have to explain to everyone that you asked for this, yeah?”

<333

[lees-chaotic-brain]

your dog did what?!

summary: they react to your dog chewing up used feminine products (feat. gojo, shoko, ino, choso, and nanami)

wc: 1.7k

cw: crack, fluff, reader has a period, kind of gross, use of pet names (sweetheart, babe, love), reader is referred to as "my girl" and wears makeup in nanami's part, swearing, gojo just being overly dramatic

a/n: if you would like to see part two with megumi, nobara, yuuji, and inumaki, or would like to see another part with haikyuu characters, look here to see how you can sponsor it!!! also this entire fic is 10000% @pandora-ophelia-blog's fault (jk ily)

jjk masterlist | blog navigation | sponsor a wip!

gojo satoru

“Who’s a sweet boy? Yes, you are! You are! Oooh, what’cha got there, huh? Wanna show daddy?” 

You could hear your boyfriend cooing at your dog in greeting as he stepped through the front door, and you smiled to yourself as you continued reading your book. Then:

“EEEUUUUUGGGGHHHHH WHAT THE FUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK????”

Your boyfriend came hurtling around the corner launching all six feet three inches of himself into your lap, as he pointed accusingly in the direction he came from.

“BABY. YOUR DOG!!! HE-OH MY GOD I CAN’T EVEN SAY IT!”

He gives a full body shudder and clings to you tighter, wrapping his infinity around his foot and using it to keep your dog away from the two of you.

“BEGONE YOU FOUL BEAST!” He made exaggerated gagging sounds. “GET AWAY FROM US!!”

“SATORU!!” You shouted over his panicked screeching. “STOP YELLING.”

“But babeeeee.” He nuzzled into your neck still fending your dog off with a single socked foot. “You don’t even understand what this HORRID creature did.”

“Get off me you stupid lunk.” You push him off your lap, ignoring his indignant squawking, completely over his dramatics. “What could he have possibly done that’s that bad?”

“HE. ATE. A DIRTY TAMPON.” He flops around on the floor like a fish out of water, unable to find a better means of properly expressing his disgust. Your nose scrunches up, and you look down on him with annoyance.

“I mean, yeah it’s gross. But it’s not like he hasn’t done it before? It’s just kind of a thing that some dogs do.”

“WHY ARE YOU SO CALM ABOUT THIS???”

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, your dog leans down and licks your boyfriend's face, dangerously close to his mouth.

“AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

shoko ieri

“We’re returning the dog.” 

You look up from your phone as your girlfriend enters your bedroom, shedding her lab coat. Setting your phone down next to your pillow, you stand and give her a kiss. “Hey. Watch it. That’s our child you’re talking about.”

She huffs, leaning against you as you give her a hug. “Then I assume you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Seen what?” Wordlessly, Shoko takes you by the hand and leads you to the bathroom, opening the door and revealing the state of your bathroom. “This. It looks like shark week in here.”

You choke back a laugh at her phrasing, taking in the disaster that your bathroom currently was. Just then, your nine month old puppy trotted in wagging, excited that his entire family was home. Scooping him up, you press a kiss to the top of his furry head and present him to your girlfriend.

“Just look at him Sho. Can you really look our son in the face and tell him you’re giving him away?” You give her puppy eyes over the top of his head. “Look at how sweet he is! Who’s a good boyo, you are, ahhh I just love you so much!”

She looks at you in exasperation as you coddle and coo at the little bundle of fur, trying and failing to hide the admiration in her eyes. Finally she relents.

“I suppose since you love him so much we can keep him-”

“Yay!!” You dance around the cramped hallway holding the dog up. “You hear that? You get to stay! You know why? Because she looooves us! That’s right! She-”

“But you have to clean this up.”

“Boo.”

ino takuma

Walking out of the grocery store, you accept an incoming facetime from your boyfriend, answering with a smile and a cheerful greeting. “Hey baby, what’s up-”

“My dearest darling girlfriend.” He cuts you off, speaking as soon as you answer and not pausing to listen to what you’re saying. “The love of my life. Could you possibly please explain to me why I came home and our apartment was covered in bloody fabric?”

“What?” Concerned, you stop loading your groceries into your trunk and squint at your phone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Show me.”

Obediently, he flips the camera, giving you a clear view of the red shreds scattered across the ground. You tell him to bring the camera a little closer, so he does and realization hits you over the head like a sledgehammer.

“Oh…um, so I don’t know how to tell you this…” You hesitate, knowing what you were about to tell him would most likely send Ino into hysterics. “But, uh, those are dirty pads that the dog chewed up…”

The other end of the phone is silent for a solid thirty seconds before he speaks again, surprisingly calm.

 “Say sike right now.”

You wince. “I can’t…”

There’s another moment of silence, and you watch as your boyfriend goes through all the stages of grief in a matter of seconds. Then he takes a deep breath and pulls himself together with a forced smile before hanging up.

“Give me a second babe, I gotta go call Nanamin and ask for some advice.”

choso kamo

You were cuddled up with your boyfriend on the couch after a long day, soaking in the warmth and simple domesticity of the moment when he spoke over the show.

“Earlier today your dog was chewing on something bloody and had made a huge mess so I cleaned it up.” You sit up, pausing your episode. “Cho baby, what?”

He shrugs. “It appeared he had gotten into the bathroom trash can, and at first I wasn’t going to bring it up because it was no big deal, but the more I think about it the more I worry.”

He furrows his brow, his bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. “That wasn’t all…your blood, was it?” Mistaking the confusion on your face for offense, he backtracks rapidly.

“Not that that would be a problem! I was just concerned because of the quantity of blood. I know it’s not healthy for humans to lose that much blood so I got a little scared. I want to be able to help you if you’re hurt.”

“No baby, I'm not mad.” You reassure him with a soft kiss. “I’m just confused. I don’t know why there would be blood in the trash can, or why the dog would eat it. You said it was the bathroom trash can-oh.”

Suddenly you look embarrassed, fidgeting with your fingers. “Don’t worry about it Cho. It’s no big deal. I’m sorry you had to clean it up. I’ll make sure I secure the trash can better next time.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He senses your shift in mood and he doesn’t like it. “Are you okay? Can you at least tell me where the blood came from so I don’t have to worry?”

Haltingly, with your cheeks burning, you explain how a period works to him. Despite knowing that it’s perfectly natural, you couldn’t help but feel a little shy for no reason at all.

“So yeah.” You finish. “That’s what it is. Gross isn’t it…”

Peeking up to gauge his reaction, you notice that he’s staring at you, aghast. 

“That happens…every month?” He looks mildly horrified. “And it hurts you?”

“Well I mean yes, but everyone has to deal with it so it’s really no big deal-”

“And it’s happening to you right now? Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks so heartbroken, your chest hurts. “I just didn’t want to be a bother…”

“You’re not a bother! I want to take care of you! What did you say helped again?”

He leaps up from the couch, muttering as he paced back and forth before planting a quick kiss on the top of your head and running out of your apartment.

“I’ll be right back! I need to go buy some things!”

nanami kento

You’re in your bedroom putting the finishing touches on your makeup when you hear your apartment door open, letting you know that your boyfriend was there to pick you up for your date. 

“Give me one second!” You call out, carefully curling your eyelashes. “I’m almost ready, just doing up my makeup!”

“Erm, darling?” You hear your boyfriend call out from the other room. He sounds a little off. “I hate to disturb you, but can you come here for a second?”

Carefully applying an even coat of mascara to your curled lashes, you get up from your vanity, despite not having finished your highlighter or lip gloss. Knowing your boyfriend he wouldn’t be bothering you unless it was important. Your bare feet pad softly against your wooden floors as you leave your bedroom and enter the main area.

“Yeah, babe? What’s going…” You trail off, noticing what your dog had been up to while you were getting ready for date night. “Oh…”

Oh indeed. From where you stood in the doorway, you had a perfect view of the carnage scattered across your floor. Your dog had gotten into your bathroom trash can, and there were shredded pads galore all over your apartment. Used shredded pads.

You feel your face heat with embarrassment as you survey the crime scene. “I-I’m so sorry. She does this from time to time but normally I remember to put the trash can out of her reach. This is so embarrassing. You can just wait outside while I finish cleaning this up-”

In your humiliated frenzy you begin banging through your cabinets, pulling down your latex gloves and a trash bag preparing to clean it. “Just go wait in the car, this will only take me a few minutes-” You’re interrupted by your boyfriend taking the latex gloves and trash bag away from you.

“Hey, love. It’s okay.” Nanami leads you back towards your room, putting on a pair of gloves. “I’ll clean this up. You just relax and take your time getting ready.”

“But Ken-” You protest, looking back over your shoulder as he guides you with a warm palm pressed against the small of your back. “It’s gross and-”

“I don’t mind.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “Trust me. I wouldn’t offer if I did. Don’t worry about it.”

He looks you up and down, a small smile spreading across his face. “Do whatever you need to get ready. I just want my girl looking all pretty for our date, alright?”

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @m0k0k0 @starlightanyaaa @pandora-ophelia-blog

lmk if you want to be added to any of my taglists!!

[konigsblog]

I’m sorry this is a ramble but this thought plagues me and I just can’t write so . Spare me my agony here; older stalker Konig.

He sees you at work, some pretty young thing at a seedy diner or bar, barely old enough to be employed there at all. Too young to be working, you’re something he thinks should be housed away and pampered like some dumb pet, so silly of you to not settle down already. Low hanging fruit is what he takes you for, with how naive and innocent you seem; no concept of the world, of seedy men like himself with too much time and money on his hands, his red flags too visible to anyone who knows what to look for. And you poor, poor thing have no clue what he’s like, his faux charm and large tips and solid build blinding you of his true intentions.

He watches, becomes a regular, gets to know you and make small talk and leave fat tips and cheesy compliments that make you giddy and flustered despite the odd air he has about him or the way your coworkers whisper that he’s no good. Eventually his regular appearances turn into him staying til close, then offering to walk you home his possessive streak covered up by vigilant protectiveness that leaves you dizzy with his little touches to your arm or the small of your back, the nearly parental way he kisses your forehead at your door.

Little did you know he’s been planning the whole time; memorizing your work schedules, your daily schedule, the things you eat or drink, places you go on your days off, watching you through your apartment window or sneaking in when you’re out of the house to raid your dirty laundry or leave a gross surprise of his cum in your leftovers. He’s a shadow in your life, always lurking in the background of every scene no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Eventually he’s sneaking in when you’re asleep, so silent for such a behemoth of a man, so he can paw at your soft and prone form while he pants and spills into his hand like a dog in rut while you’re none-the-wiser, unaware of the way he smears his soiled hand on your skin, your cunt, your pillow or sheets.

When he finally takes things further, too determined to do anything but hoard you all to himself, he’s so sweetly condescending as he relays just how long he had planned everything, how cute and stupid you were to never realize what he had been doing all this time, the bits of himself he left around your apartment, on you, inside of you as a precursor to him claiming you fully. You’ve already consumed so much of his seed, you’ll be fine taking it from the source like a good girl Schatz, nicht? Sure his cock is big, but he knows the best ways to stretch your tight hole already, so you’ll be fine! Just stop thinking and let him have you already, he’s worked so hard for you, your the center of his world. His stupid little Liebling, pathetic and confused as she struggles against her bindings and his hands, no choices left but to plead until her voice dies and give herself over to him, because nothing could convince him to accept no as the answer.

anon, my jaw is on the floor, i absolutely adore older stalker-könig and his creepiness. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

CW: RAPE/NON-CON, AGE GAP, STALKING. 🪦🕊️

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. 18+

my brain rots at the thought of könig sliding inside for the first time, holding your wrists down beside your head as he begins rocking gently. the way he cocks his head to the side almost mocking you, taunting you for being so easy, so pliant, and so vulnerable and naïve around him. the faux sympathy and empathy leaves you longing for his sweet praise, but when you're slapped for falling for the mask he puts on, you sob harder with his slicken cock hammering against your cervix, stuffed inside that inexperienced cunt. it's as if you wanted this to happen, to be used and controlled as if you were a puppet, with your inappropriate and flirty comments after each cheesy, overly sweet compliment he gives you, unaware of his seriousness, how this was a part of his plan to reduce you to a mutt, with your purpose being to serve a man, könig.

he hides himself so well, and you take the bait, falling for the façade of a gentle, older male with sweet intentions. looking back, you can only let out pitiful and pained cries as you connect the dots and realise your stupidity, finally realising what you fell for, how stupid you must look on your back begging for him to stop when he'd given you so many hints and chances to flee, your voice becoming quiet and strained as you plead. the rough texture of his old, scarred skin over your mouth to silence you, against your soft and supple skin, your body shaking with each thrust, showing you what you're worth, what your purpose truly is.

könig shows you what reality is, getting you out of your stupid head, that's doing you no good as he continues with his violation and assault. he teaches you that life isn't fantasy, how you don't know everyone and their intentions or who they truly are, or how you'll fall for it and become a wolf's prey within seconds due to your kindness and naivety, how you never accuse anyone and hope they mean well, too naïve for your own good and assuming the best about everyone. leading you to be forced to take every inch of the man's experienced, hung cock, with your eyes glistening and horrified, and the smell of him on your bedsheets reminding you, or the cum stains along your shirts and panties.

or, perhaps the bruises and marks he leaves along your skin as a warning, or maybe as a sign of ownership - who you belong to, who owns you.

how could you be so foolish? :(

[monayen]

you said something about Nyon being one of the better head givers ... what about the rest of them ;3 ? maybe rank them PLZZZ - 🦋

Pussy Eatin' Headcannons (lol)

➷ Paring - Multi x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - explicit afab reader, oral (f. recieving) / cunnilingus, biting / marking, fingering

a/n - oh this is everything to me thank you for this ask. also throwing in the ratmen and satoru because i errr uhh CAN DO WHAT I WANT. i actually had a bit of a hard time ranking them specifically as i feel like #6-4 can be interchangeable if you think hard enough. but this is about eatin' pussy so have ur own thoughts frens

(from worst to best)

Tied for last place: Ratmen 3-5

These guys likely wouldn’t even know what to do with a pussy in their face

They’re used to rushed quickies, as they’re always afraid of being caught

Way too fast and sloppy when eating you out, leaves a mess of your own wetness all on their faces

It won’t be all that satisfying, so don’t expect to cum anytime soon. Because of that, they'll probably tap out after a while

They definitely prefer receiving head over giving it—after all, they’ll finish much faster than you. A shame, really

8. Micheal Jr

Like Ratmen 3-5, he lacks the time and experience to properly eat you out. The only reason he ranks higher is his sheer enthusiasm to do so

He wants you to squeeze your thighs around his face and tug his hair

Still messy and too quick, but with the right training and time, he might actually be decent at it. But that won't ever happen

7. Nyen

Rarely gives you oral which automatically puts him at a low spot

Which might be for the best, considering he ends up using too much teeth most of the time. Like he has literally bitten your clit before :(

His hands will also dig painfully into your hips and sides when he grasps onto you, which could make it hard to focus on the already sorta uncomfortable head

Definitely prefers fucking your throat and he’s clear about that

6. Randal

The neediest head you’ll ever receive. Laps you up like a dog and leaves you a sweaty, sticky mess

Loves come swallowing and is determined to lick up every last drop of wetness that leaks out of you

The 69 position is a must for him. Fucking your face while his tongue curls inside of you? The best (aside from actually fucking you)

"Head for head?” is something that unironically leaves his mouth way too often

Genuinely cannot get enough of it. Tires you out and still will stretch out his tongue for another round

Enough that it can actually be exhausting to deal with his constant need for your pussy to be in his face

Also bites, duh

5. Sebastian

Reluctant at first, wouldn't have ever propositioned if you didn't

Not because he thought it was gross or weird, just nervous to perform poorly and make a fool of himself

His inexperience makes him a bit awkward and clumsy, but his earnest desire to please you makes up for his lack of skill

Actually not bad at all when he gets into it though. Let his nerves settle and he’ll eat it like he's starving (which he is)

Likes for you to sit on his face and grind against him. Listen to his shaky whimpers against your flesh as he struggles to breathe properly. Don’t worry, he likes it!

4. Robert

Doesn't have an exact preference for giving or receiving, so a nice plus!

Again, he just has the similar problem the rest of the ratmen have: lack of time / opportunity

Though inexperienced, he’s much neater and more patient than his ratmen counterparts—not that it’s saying much, but it’s still an improvement

Has a tendency to nibble and gnaw at your skin, can get a bit too enthusiastic about it sometimes (ouch!)

Give him multiple tries to learn where the clit is, how to combo his tongue and fingers, and how to find a proper rhythm and I think he’ll do quite well :)

3. Satoru

Similar to Randal in how he loves to eat you out. Practically lives for it

He wants to try every single position possible (which is more than you think) and learn all the things that make your thighs shake

Never stops talking, even with his mouth full—mumbles against you, breathless words garbling out as he showers you with praise. He just can’t help it, you taste too good to stay quiet!

Again, can end up being a bit too much to handle if you're sensitive

A lot more accommodating than Randal though, if you need a break, he'll let you. It can be tiring to be folded with your legs in the air as he sucks on your overstimulated clit. You sweet thing ^^

2. Luther

Very delicate. Almost far too careful, treating you like a five course meal

Every part of you is so precious to him so he makes sure his long fingers and sharp teeth won't ever hurt you

His tongue likes to move in slow, deliberate strokes, thumb rhythmically rubbing against your clit as firm hands grip along your inner thigh

His ability to focus on a specific task means he’ll be down there for a while, so just keep your legs steady on his shoulders, pet ♡

1. Nyon

Gives the best head.

Doesn't complain, doesn't wait for you to initiate, isn't too fast or slow, knows all the right spots and patterns

He picks up on what you like quickly. Incredibly attentive to your tastes, loves to see you melt and moan when he eats you out just right

Secretly prides himself on making you come just from his mouth. Why shouldn't he? He tries very hard for you, Родная<3

Gets so much satisfaction from giving. Fully devoted to making you feel good until you’re completely spent

He doesn’t tend to ask for anything in return, content enough with just settling his face between your thighs. Ignore that wet spot on his crotch… you just get him so excited when you tug at his hair!

[luveline]

jaaaade!!! I wish we could see more of eddie and reader alone!!! Would you be open to writing about another date without roan or maybe roan at a sleepover??? xoxoxoxoxoxo

hey!!! eddie and roan without the roan!!! cw suggestive (they are deprived of one another its not my fault (it is technically my fault))

It's disconcerting to come home from work when Roan isn't there. There are no cartoons playing on TV, no shiny black Mary Jane's at the bottom of the stairs, no red vinyl raincoat on the bannister. Eddie's instantly visible across the hall in the kitchen, though his back is turned to you, arms buried in the sink. He's wearing your Walkman, head bobbing to music.

You nip into the living room even though Roan isn't home to feed Lucky the fish. 

"Baby?" Eddie shouts, loud, like he's mad. 

You quickly close the fish tank and present yourself for scolding. "What?" 

He's set the Walkman aside. 

His shirt is one of those shirts that he uses for both everyday life and bed. There's a hole at the neckline, and a wet patch near his stomach from the dishes, and the whole thing comes off in about ten seconds. 

You gawp at him. Eddie can be forward, but this forward?

He bursts into boyish giggles. "Your face! What are you thinking?" 

"What am I thinking?" you ask, on the defensive instantly, because not being so gives him room to dig his claws in. "I'm thinking me and my boyfriend are home alone for the first time in at least a month, and he's just called me like a dog and stripped in front of me, and- Eddie! Get away from me, don't you dare!" 

He snaps out like a snake and his arms are around you python tight, pulling you against his bare chest unabashedly. 

"I'm not your boyfriend. We're to be wed, if you forgot. And… You are such a nympho." 

"I am not," you say, grinning with laughter even as you struggle in his arms to get away. 

"You are. I took my shirt off because it's wet, not to come onto you."

"Do you remember when you used to be nice to me?" you ask mildly. 

"No." 

"No, me neither. Be nice to me, Munson, or you can make your own dinner." 

"You're making dinner?" he asks, eyes widened in surprise. 

"Don't act like I never make dinner." 

"Sorry," he says, "it's not that-"

You pat his cheek. "You do always make dinner, though. 'Cause you're a sweetheart, through and through." 

"Well you clean the bathroom, and we know how gross it is. Roan's a little freak." 

"She's a witch. Her latest potion included at least a quarter of your hair mousse, by the way." 

He leans in close to your face. "I'll make you dinner for the rest of our lives, if you want me to." His romantic side quickly fades back into the shadows. "But if you're offering, it's definitely your turn." 

"Nice," you say wryly. 

He hums his agreement, gives you two quick but well-meaning kisses, and let's you go where he'd herded you to the front door. "I'm gonna put on a dry shirt. Bring your pyjamas down?" 

"Please, handsome, if you will." 

"Duh." 

You spirit into the kitchen and turn the oven on. Then you wash your hands, pull a sack of potatoes from the cupboard, and get to chopping. 

"We're having homemade french fries and burgers. Unless you don't want burgers?" you ask, not looking as Eddie returns to the kitchen. 

"That's not funny. You know I always want burgers." 

You shove all your skin-on fries into the colander and you and Eddie swap. "Wash them for me, please?" 

"I'm already feeling like you cooking tonight is a lie." 

"I'm not lying!" you say, pushing your pants down to your thighs. 

You step out of them one leg at a time and shake out your pyjama pants. Eddie looks at you for a second, turns back to the faucet, and then double takes hard enough to make his neck click. You boo at his theatrics and pull on your new pants before he can waylay you with his nice hands. You're excited for some 'private time' with him, more excited to fill the aching pit of hunger in your stomach, and he could likely seduce you with one well aimed touch, so best to get dressed. 

"You have the fucking hottest thighs-" 

"Don't, Eddie," you plead, already laughing. 

"I'm being so serious right now. Fuck, can I just squeeze one?" 

"That's not even romantic." 

"I'm not trying to be…" He sets the washed potatoes aside on the draining board and quickly scrubs his hands dry. "I'm being honest with you, if I don't get my hands on your legs tonight I'm gonna pass out." 

His methods are questionable, but it's nice to be hyped up like that, especially when he usually keeps it PG. "You look so pretty today," doesn't ever lose its potency even when he says it every day, but the rarity of his more salacious comments means that each one makes you wanna jump him. 

"I think…" you say softly, tipping the fries on to a sheet pan and drizzling them with olive oil. He waits for you to finish. "We can make a deal." 

"What kind?" 

"Kind where you take it easy tonight and let me spoil you, and I'll make it worth your while." 

He takes it easy. He sits at the dinner table and you get to talk about things you haven't been able to for a while, properly, like bills and work and worries you don't say in front of Roan. Then you move on, talking about movies and music and heading into Indianapolis soon like you always say you will for an author event Eddie wants to go to. By the time the burgers are done, you're elated, head swimming with Eddie. You love Roan and love your life with her in it, but, separately, you adore Eddie. Everything about him. Even the way he talks is important to you: bravado and genuineness interlinked, making for an animated recount of his thoughts and feelings. 

You place a plate down in front of him with a great burger and a heaping pile of fries, and then you grab a coke from the fridge and pour it into a glass for him carefully. 

"You want ketchup?" 

He squints at you. "I can get my own ketchup." 

You take that for yes and retrieve the ketchup from the fridge, putting it with his plate and glass. 

"Where's yours?" he asks, covering his mouth as he chews a fry. 

You slowly, carefully, ease your way into his lap, giving him time to refuse you. 

He doesn't. 

You sit with your side to his chest and feel perfectly content as his arm wraps around you to hold you in place. "The deal is I get to spoil you," you remind him, stroking a curl out of his face. 

"I thought you meant, like, dinner," he says. 

"I do mean dinner. Dinner and everything else. You know you- you work so hard, 'n' you think I don't notice, I bet, but I do. You're the best dad, the best to-be-wed," you drawl. "You're my fucking guy, so you'll have to excuse me if I wanna get you the ketchup out of the fridge, loser." 

"You're a fucking loser." He's beaming. 

You stare at him, smile bright no matter how hard you try to tamp it down. "I love you. Let me hand feed you French fries like a serf holding grapes over an ancient courtesan, okay?" 

He tilts his head back in wait. 

Eddie lets you feed him fries, and somewhere between them his hand ends up exactly where he'd wanted it, between your legs and squeezing at the doughy flesh of your thigh. He couldn't look any happier. 

"You know what else would spoil me?" he asks, nosing at the skin under your ear. 

Your breath catches, sure he's going to say something awful. "What, baby?" 

"If you ate your food." 

You snort, spell broken, and go to stand, but Eddie's hand slides high up your thigh and lingers. "You'll need your strength," he adds. 

You push at his chest with your hand, tempted to roll your eyes at his smirking and nerdy delivery. "Whatever, baby." 

It's safe to say you aren't so dismissive of his bold claims later that night. 

[boynarcing]

A Certain Euphoria

leon s. kennedy x male!reader

wc. 1.7k

cw. incest, dad/son incest, OOC(duh), implied abuse, alcoholism, mutual interest (mostly from reader in this one), internalized homophobia

note. sort of continuation from this fic right here… no smut (yet) sorry but uhm there are some implied sexual acts? also the writing is kind of boring I think .. sorry excuse how bland it is please lol… feedback always appreciated :3 || title is A Certain Euphoria by Strange Boutique

You squirm, wriggle your hips and scoot your bottom back, but no matter whatever you try to do, you can’t seem to find a comfortable position on the thick muscle of your father’s thigh.

Yeah, his lap.

You were on your dad’s lap at your grown age. Willingly, too.

It didn’t take much for him to be able to coax you, just some sweet words and playful teasing and you were at his beck and call like a mindless dog.

That’s normal though, isn’t it? To be this close with your dad. You’d rather he baby and coddle you than beat you, which is why you try your best to stay on his good side. It doesn’t take much to set him off; one small, snide comment and he starts bugging out like a gas station cokehead. Plus, it’s not good for an old man like him. His heart could give out or something. Who’d take care of you then? Not your mom, that’s for sure.

Large hands steady your hips, squeezing gently.

“Relax,” Leon coos, nosing your nape, the action making you shiver. He’s so touchy, so brazen. A part of you flusters, unsure of what to make of his attention. It’s sweet, but it makes you feel dirty. Not gross dirty, but an “I feel like I shouldn’t be this close to my dad” type of dirty. You’re a boy, after all, aren’t you? Boys don’t get all sappy and sit on each other’s laps. Maybe you should be more worried about the dad part, though. Being gay is the least of your worries, and not something you should think about at this point in your life.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat searing your cheeks, making you sweat. “I’m just kinda uncomfy.” Honesty is the best policy, you remind yourself. Pushing back against your dad, you turn your head slightly to nuzzle your cheek against his chest apologetically, acutely aware of the fact that you had accidentally bumped your ass into his groin. Your heart skips a beat, but dad doesn’t say anything, simply tightening his hold on you and kissing your cheek, making you wilt with disappointment.

“Gonna have to deal with it,” Leon grumbles, arms wrapping around your waist, keeping you caged against him. “I want you close.”

You let out a huff, but otherwise say nothing. It’s sweet, you think. Your old man has quite the soft spot for you, and you don’t want to overthink his intentions, so you stay put and rest the back of your head against his firm chest, eyes focused on the TV ahead. One of Leon’s hands slips from your waist to your belly, fingers squeezing gently at the soft skin, coaxing out a sharp inhale from you.

Your hands follow, meekly grabbing onto your dad’s hand and tugging feebly, halting those curious fingers. “Don’t do that,” Your brows pinch together, a mixture of embarrassment and warmth pooling in your lower abdomen and down there. It’s just instinctual, you think. You hope. You can’t control yourself when it comes to stuff like that. You’re just sensitive is all. You can’t get touched in certain places or ways without pitching a tent. You just can’t.

This brings you back to your first time in the locker room with the guys. Some random boy had patted you on the hip playfully, but his hand had lingered for a tad bit longer than you would’ve liked, and you swore he gave you a little squeeze too. Needless to say, it was humiliating when everyone noticed your poor attempt at hiding the boner that had decided to pop through your underwear.

Word had somehow got out too, and dad ended up hearing about it. He went on the whole “boys your age go through changes” spiel, and you almost considered suicide that night.

Anyways.

Leon takes offense to your attempt at redirecting him, his grip growing strict. He doesn’t scold you, much to your surprise. He just looks at you as if you were a child throwing a fit, brief amusement swelling in his eyes. “I’m your dad,” he says. Yeah, you know that, dad, and the sky is blue. “don’t gotta be embarrassed around me, tiger.” You cringe at the nickname, face scrunching up as if something sour had snuck its way into your mouth. He squeezes again, and you gasp this time.

“Yeah, no, I know, but-“

“But nothing,” Leon cuts you off, pinching your side and making you squeak.

You focus on the lingering sting instead of complaining, hand trying to soothe the irritated skin with small rubs. “Sorry,” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut when he squeezes again and again. Over and over.

His pinkie dips beneath your waistband, and you start to feel your head go fuzzy, your briefs tightening painfully around the crotch area. It hurts so good, and your hips twitch upwards involuntarily, seeking friction. Oh god, you’re going crazy and he’s not even doing anything that provocative.

Touch my dick, touch my dick, please.

He doesn’t. Instead, his hand slides over to your chest, fingers splayed out to feel as much of you as he could. Disgruntled, you pout, letting out a weary sigh and slumping against your dad in defeat, his hard chest pressing into your back. His body isn’t what it used to be, softened after years of drinking, but you can feel what slight muscle he has left. For a guy his age, he should be proud, you’ll give him that.

He leans forward and rests his chin on the top of your head, the weight making you tilt downwards slightly. His hand movements still and you frown, confused. It’s silent for a minute, the only sounds in the room coming from the television’s stereo. Some cheesy flick is playing on screen. A girl chews her gum lazily before popping it, eyeing a male character coquettishly as he speaks. You can’t bring yourself to focus on the corny dialogue, lost in thought.

The silence draws out, and for a moment, you think you’ve done something wrong, but then dad speaks, his voice gruff and his eyes fixated on the film ahead, “Think you can get me another cold one, sweetheart?”

You can’t say no to that. Not if you want to keep your face looking pretty.

You nod, giving an anxious little hum before scooting off his lap. Leon taps his foot impatiently, glancing over at you pointedly as you scurry off to the kitchen.

The lack of warmth makes you shiver, goosebumps spreading across your skin when the icy air within the fridge lashes at you. The top layer is the only one that isn’t scarce, filled to the brim with the kind of alcohol dad likes, some of the bottles gifted by his suck-up coworkers. You can tell by the rich designs on the front and the fancy fonts (and definitely not by his habit of skimping out on things). One of them still has a bow attached around the neck. A charming man is a charming man, you suppose.

You take the easiest one to open and rush back, handing Leon the bottle before hopping onto his lap again, sighing in relief when his body heat starts to seep into you once more. Your ears manage to catch the small grunt he makes when he unscrews the cap and brings the opened top to his mouth. The large gulp that follows makes you lick your lips, a subconscious craving for something to quench your thirst. Water sounds nice right now, you think.

Eyes flickering back to the TV, you try to follow along with the poor plot, only to startle and yelp when cold glass is shoved and squeezed between your thighs, the alcohol bottle held upright.

“Dad-“

“Shh,” Leon shushes, tugging at a few locks of your hair near the back of your head, a silent warning. “The table’s too far to reach from here. Just hold it for me, okay?”

You make sure to squeeze your thighs together extra tight now, not wanting the bottle to slide out of your grip. That’d be life-ending. “…’kay.” You nod, feeling heat tingle all over your face, melting down to your chest. You squirm slightly, trying to get used to the cold somehow without being too dramatic. Leon notices, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, annoyed by your fidgeting.

With a swift movement, he brings the bottle back and slides it up your inner thighs until it presses firmly against your crotch. Luckily, your shorts protect you from the full extent of the chilly surface, but some of it manages to seep through the fabric. A soft whimper slips through your parted lips, but you don’t complain. You can’t, you remind yourself. Besides, you’re grateful he doesn’t shove it up your ass instead, because he could, and he would.

You try to focus on your task as a drink holder and continue to keep dad’s bottle secure between your legs, but no matter how hard you try to be good, you’re unable to keep from squirming and giving subtle pushes with your hips against the glass. You could lie and say you didn’t mean to, but the truth is you just can’t help yourself, not around dad. It’s almost like you’ve got a knack for it. For being a little needy. But that’s not a crime, is it?

Leon’s hand comes down and grips onto the neck of the bottle, yanking it out without second thought to take another swing, ignoring the little “uufh!” that escapes you.

You look back woozily, head fuzzy. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobs as he takes three big gulps, the burn of fresh whiskey making his face screw up funnily. He pats your hip with his freehand, and falls back against the couch with a groan, bringing the bottle down to recline against the armrest on his right. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head in a silent question.

Leon’s gaze lingers on your face for a second or two before he lets his eyes flutter shut, his head lolling back against the couch. “Hmpff,” he yawns, “daddy needs his sleep, kiddo.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he pats the top of your head with a gentle palm before you could even manage to get a word out. You lean into it. you always do. Even if he was dismissing you as if you were a toddler incapable of thinking for yourself.

“Go to bed,” He murmurs groggily, pushing you off his lap with small nudges, “I’ll join you soon…” He’s already snoring.

[eaterofman]

I <3 You!: Serial Killer Yandere x Detective Reader

This was your chance to shine, to finally rise up in the pecking order... but have you bitten off more than you could chew?

The answer is yes, yes you have.

CW: Murder, Stalking, Obsession, Violence NOT directed towards reader, Manipulation, Mild gore/grossness towards the end

A/N: I have learned how to make aesthetic moodboards like the cool blogs. I am unstoppable.

Of course you took the case, why wouldn't you?

You were sick of being at the bottom of the food chain, forced to run meaningless errands and getting stuck with the paperwork for the rest of the division.

This was your big break. Finally an opportunity to prove your worth.

How hard could it be?

He knew you were watching him.. or at least, watching the aftermath of him.

And what a beautiful aftermath it was, specially tailored, just for you.

He hadn't known who you were before all this. He'd even been insulted at first when he learned the detective on his case was some nobody that'd been tossed on his kills like a stray dog being offered a bone.

He really had been planning on making you his next target, spitting on the face of the department that decided that he was so unimportant that his work was only deserving of an amateur. He'd show them what happens when he's underestimated-

...but you'd thrown yourself onto his case with a diligence he wasn't quite prepared for. You were taking him seriously, treating the lowlifes he brutalized as important as the rich bastards the rest of your department was worried about.

It was cute.

Despite your efforts, you were nowhere near discovering who he was. He wouldn't let you, at least, not until the time was right.

No, he would make you great, just as you would make him known, and then and only then, would he reveal himself to you. The two of you were so intricately connected after all, both of you unknown to the world around you.

By hell or high water, the city would know the both of you. He'd make sure of it.

You wearily rested your head on your desk, pressing your face into the wood as your eyes blinked in and out of reality.

You were tired.

You wouldn't admit it to your colleagues, you refused to show weakness. You knew what happened when sharks smelled blood in the water. Showing them, that after all these years of being relegated to coffee running and borderline secretarial duties, that you couldn't handle the first case you'd been trusted with?

No, you wouldn't let yourself be thrown back to the bottom again. You were going to prove your worth to the team.

But the disappearances weren't disappearances anymore. They were clear murders at this point, and they were escalating.

What had started as simple disappearances with no confirmed body had evolved into... statements, for lack of a better word. Brutalized bodies proudly displayed in a clear mockery of your efforts.

The killer was getting bold.

It seemed at first as though they were getting sloppy as well, a few times you had stumbled across a victim that had obviously been alive just a few moments before you'd gotten to them, blood still fresh and their eyes still hauntingly gleaming at you.

No, the killer wasn't getting sloppy. You weren't any closer to finding them then you were a year ago.

This was intentional. They wanted you to see it. Despite their brutality, they were careful, never leaving any trace of themselves behind.

The case had escalated to the point where the rest of your division had to acknowledge it. At first, your colleagues simply hadn't cared about a few disappearances of the city's less respected residents. It was practically a joke when they assigned you the missing persons case, like a wild goose chase you couldn't possibly in.

Despite this, you'd put your all into the case. Even if your colleagues didn't care about the occasional missing prostitute or tourist, you did. They were still people, even if they didn't make headlines.

Your division still didn't actually care about the people when they assigned a more advanced detective to your case. No, they cared about their reputation. A serial killer on the loose did not bode well for their public appearance.

You were happy that attention was now being directed towards what you'd known to be a problem since the beginning... but it was too little too late in your opinion. It wouldn't change the fact that lives were lost because you lacked funds and access to necessary equipment and time.

As your eyes drifted shut, you figured that even if this new detective took over your case completely, it'd be okay as long as the killer was stopped.

You didn't need to known, after all, you just needed to protect your city.

That was enough for you.

White hot anger broiled in his chest, threatening to explode as he paced his hotel room.

There was another man with you, another detective.

No, not a detective, a piece of trash that didn't recognize how important the two of you were.

The piece of shit thought he was better than you, than him.

After all the effort and work he had put into gaining notoriety, the fucking pigs had stepped in, placed an intruder between the two of you. Worse yet, an intruder who would surely take all the credit from you.

He wouldn't allow it.

As he eyed the two of you investigating the display he'd arranged for you from his vantage point, watching you be forced into the role of a sidekick, he played with the knife in his hands.

This would be his best work yet.

Just as you had feared, you'd been relegated to side work once your more senior colleague stepped in.

At least you hadn't been completely removed from the case, you supposed, but it had still been a bitter pill to swallow. You'd worked so hard, only to be pushed aside and undermined once again.

You wouldn't have even minded as much, if he'd at the very least listen to what you had to say.

Instead, you'd gotten lectured like a small child, chastised for not solving such a simple case.

You chewed on the words as you walked, coffee in your hands from yet another chore you'd been forced into running.

The bastard had even made you pay for it.

"Forgot your wallet my fucking ass..." you mutter to yourself as you stomp up the stairs to the small office your superior had claimed for the investigation.

Or at least, his part of the investigation. You typically weren't allowed to "cramp up his space" while he "worked". You were used to getting kicked out into the general shared office space to work on the additional paperwork he deemed himself too important to touch.

You knock on the door, hoping to not have to struggle to open it with your hands full of hot coffee.

But there's no answer.

Of course there isn't, god forbid he actually gets up off his ass and helps you for once.

You roll your eyes and go to reach for the doorknob... only for the door to crack open on its own. Huh.

You shrug, turning to hip bump the door open the rest of the way. Easier for you, you supp-

You're snapped out of your thoughts when you step in something... wet. Back still turned, you jump in surprise at the unpleasant sound of wet carpet smooshing up against your shoe.

"Ew, what th-"

You stop mid sentence, now facing the inside of the room. You drop the cups your holding in your hand, barely registering as the brown liquid mixes with the now deep red carpet.

There's blood everywhere.

Soaked into the carpet, splattered onto the walls, dripping from the desk your colleague is sitting at.

Or what remains of your colleague, at least.

Most of what was once him is now covering the small office space, you feel bile rising in your throat.

Even in your shock, it's hard not to notice the oddly pristine, brightly colored paper in the space where your superior's face used to be.

You refuse to step into the room to get any closer to it, survival instincts howling at you to not getting any closer.

But you don't need to, you can clearly make out the almost childishly placed paper cutout letters on the paper.

You feel your stomach contents finally leave your body, mixing with the other fluids on the ground.

The message of "I <3 You" mocks you from the other side of the room as you scream, falling backwards as your mind tries to process what you're seeing.

The killer was just here, had to have been you were only gone for twenty minutes at most and-

-and he knows you, you realize with dread.

You scream.