#dubcon kiss cw

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 Good enough to Eat

Licking CW: bound reader, abduction, body worship (receiving), teasing, drugging, dub-con, body image issues

The reflection in the mirror glared at their body, turning in circles to fully appreciate how bad they looked in this outfit. It was such a stereotypical thing to do that (Reader) felt ashamed, but that didn't stop them, not when their skin was squishing out over the top of their jeans. Their best friend was waiting in the living room for them to hurry up, but every shirt they put on laid weird on their body, even their favorite band tee. It was just going to be one of those days.

(Reader) left the bathroom mopey, struggling to look happy. Their attempt failed completely when Vince pulled out his phone to take a picture of them.

"Not today V."

"What? Why?! We never get to hang out anymore, and I want some pictures of us." The man whined, jokingly pouting to hide his real disappointment.

"I'm just..." (Reader) tugged on their shirt subconsciously, "not feeling it."

Vince's eyes narrowed, his joking demeanor fading into an empty glare (Reader) had never seen before, worrying them. "I can't do this. I wanted to do this the right way, but you're pissing me off."

Before (Reader) could question their friend he shoved his fingers into their mouth, pressing a bitter tasting pill into their throat and forcing it down. They tried to jump back, but Vince held (Reader's) head, clasping their mouth shut until they swallowed and holding them still until it kicked in. First their muscles grew heavy, then (Reader) couldn't hold their eyes open, collapsing into Vince's arms.

(Reader) woke up hours later, completely naked and hands chained to the ceiling above them, arms twisted in an angle where they couldn't pull up and dangling just high enough for their toes to touch the floor. In the dark of the cellar, Vince stood in front of (Reader) with his arms crossed, a disappointed look on his handsome face.

"Vince? Where am I...?"

"Mmm.. my house." Vince was uncharacteristically upset, his voice cold and eyes weary with frustration.

"Why-?"

"You know, I had this whole date planned out for us. I was finally going to confess to you." He looked down, rubbing his hands together. "But you're so damn insecure, I know if I told you today that I've been in love with you for the past seven years you wouldn't have believed me."

A strange ache stabbed into (Reader's) heart; a conflicting mixture of his congestion causing it to skip a beat and pain from their anxiety. He was right, they didn't deserve his love. Ignoring the fact that he had just kidnapped them, Vince was the most attractive man (Reader) had ever seen off the big screen.

"Vince, I-"

"So, before I officially confess to you, I need you feeling better about yourself, so you accept me." Vince walked over, a sick smile creeping over his features. "You are so fucking beautiful. I've never met anyone as sexy as you."

"Vince, I'm sorry... If you let me go we can pretend like this never happened.."

He cocked his head. "Why would I want to do that? I finally have you all to myself, and you want me to pretend like I've never had the privilege to see you like this?"

(Reader) sniffled, ashamed, both by how exposed they were and by his sweet talking. "Please stop-"

"You don't believe me.. That really hurts my feelings, (Reader). It was bad enough hearing you criticize the person I love all the goddamn time, but even now you're looking at me like I'm a liar." He pressed his nose against their cheek, inhaling their scent. "Which is so unfair, when you look good enough to eat."

His sharp canines bit into (Reader's) neck as his rough hands caressed their body, rubbing their chest and the spot between their shoulder blades. (Reader) cried out, both in surprise and from pain, before squirming in discomfort as he ran his tongue over his teeth marks.

Vince seemed to enjoy the reaction he got from licking (Reader's) neck, because he moved down, chasing the shivers he was sending down their body. His calloused palms gripped (Reader's) flesh, digging his fingers into their soft body selfishly. His hot muscle left wet trails down (Reader's) goosebumps, greedily tasting their body.

He left hickies from his sucking and biting, bruising their nipples from enthusiasm. Every time he latched on it was hard enough to draw blood, but was quick to soothe the stinging with kisses, cleaning the red droplets with his tongue. Vince ignored (Reader's) pleas and whines, enraptured by the taste he had dreamt of for so long.

"You are so beautiful.." He groaned dreamily, pawing at himself through his pants as he planted butterfly kisses down to (Reader's) hip, turned on by their shudders under his feather soft touches. Sliding into his knees, Vince gazed up at (Reader) with lust. "Please say that you believe me now."

"Vince.." (Reader) was torn between their embarrassment and how good they felt.

His lips attached to their sensitive skin right next to their groin, tickling them. The area was so sensitive to the touch that they arched their spine to get their pelvis away from the teasing kisses, but lost their footing, rocking back into Vince's face.

The man continued licking and kissing everywhere but (Reader's) genitalia, encouraged by their responsiveness. He wouldn't gift them release, not until they felt have much he craved their body.

"Do you believe me now?" His heavy panting against their skin was almost as unbearable as his spider light brushing.

Desperate to be let down, (Reader) whined "Yes! I believe you.."

"Does that mean you'll let me be your man?" Another kiss, closer towards their painful arousal. (Reader's) thighs quivered and butterflies erupted in their belly.

"Yes!"

"Because you know that I love you?" The fluid leaking down (Reader's) leg was licked off hungrily.

"God, yes!"

"And you love me too?"

"Yes! I love you, I love you too, Vince!"

As soon as he got his confirmation, (Reader's) legs were draped over his shoulders.

(Reader's) toes curled as Vince's tongue swirled around their most delicate parts, drinking in their essence. His mouth devoured (Reader), crushing his face with their pelvis, pulling them harder into his jaw, hands on their buttocks pushing them in.

"Vince, I'm gonna cum.." (Reader) pathetically whimpered, feeling his tongue fuck them faster.

A wave a shame followed their climax, insecure suddenly over their orgasm. But that brief thought immediately dissipated as Vince didn't stop, taking all of their juices and continuing his assault on their sensitive nerves, pushing them past the point of pleasure. Tears poured from (Reader's) eyes as they tried to wiggle out of his iron grip.

But Vince continued until he came, pulling away to breathe as he moaned out, staining his jeans. His face returned to the kind looking Vince (Reader) knew and adored, smiling up at (Reader) sweetly as though he hadn't just abducted and assaulted (Reader).

"Thank you for accepting my feelings, gorgeous."

[the-bar-sinister]

lemon sorbet: does your F/O get jealous easily? cherry vanilla: how does your F/O show their affection for you?

"Where the hell have you been?"

Crocodile doesn't wait for Buggy to answer before looping his hook around the clown's waist and dragging him bodily against himself. He looks Buggy over– the smeared greasepaint, the rumpled clothing.

"Of course," Crocodile grunts, still not listening to whatever the clown is saying. "You didn't think I was lonely waiting up for you?"

He pushes Buggy against the wall, between his hook and looming body and he starts to roughly kiss him, cutting off Buggy's protests with his tongue.

"You're supposed to keep me company, clown," he reminds, before kissing him breathlessly again.

-

Thank you for the prompt!

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[whump-card]

This Death That I Chose: Chapter 8

2862 words

CW: dubcon (not explicitly described), conditioning, derogatory language, manipulation, dubcon kiss, panic attack, derogatory tattoo, pet whump

First, Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Sex with Vic was strange. He moved carefully, like Lark was some kind of fragile object. He was deeply mindful of Lark’s broken arm, and the IV antibiotics in the other. He used a condom, stolen from Faye’s supplies. He plied Lark open slowly, and it barely even hurt when he pushed himself in. In the end Lark found that an orgasm came easily to him, rather than being something he had to drag out of his body like a rotten tooth.

Lark almost enjoyed it. It scared him.

Vic left in a hurry after the act, guilt written all over his face. Good. He’d eventually turn on Lark to absolve himself of the blame. He was replaced by Hannah, who sauntered back in with her books, none the wiser. After Faye checked in on them at lunchtime, Lark tested the waters with Hannah as well. It couldn��t just be one person; one person fucking Lark was that person’s mistake, Lark needed to tempt multiple people to bed in order to prove that he was a foul, corrupting influence.

Unfortunately Hannah started gushing about her girlfriend as soon as Lark brought up relationships, so he fell silent and let her gush. He’d also preemptively struck Becca and Faye off his list; Becca was a barely-disguised bleeding heart, and Faye was too strictly professional.

Tao was a whole other puzzle. Despite reminding Lark so strongly of the Commander, he seemed to have zero interest in Lark’s body. That was… confusing. Lark didn’t like it.

But as long as the Watchmen keeping guard at his bedside changed every eight or so hours, he’d have an influx of new targets and plenty of time to work them. He just hoped none of them made him feel as strange as Vic had.

~~~

Tao ran into Marina on his way to check on Karlo that evening. They met at the end of Faye’s driveway, each carrying a bundle of cloth.

“I brought Karlo a change of clothes,” Tao lifted his bundle.

“So did I,” Marina smiled sheepishly.

Tao shrugged. “He can mix and match.”

Marina laughed brightly, but it quickly faded into a nervous silence.

“…Do you think I could try seeing him again?” she asked, “This morning was – I’ll handle it better, now.”

“Yeah, of course,” Tao nodded, “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“Oh,” she blinked at him, “Yes. Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

They entered the building and walked up to Karlo’s room together. Marina knocked, and waited until Hannah called, “Come in!” to enter.

They found Karlo sitting up with a book open in his lap, mimicking Hannah in the chair next to him. His eyes caught his mother’s for the briefest of moments before he looked away, stone-faced.

“Oh, are you reading?” Marina asked softly.

When it was clear Karlo wasn’t going to answer, Hannah piped up. “Yeah, I brought him something. I figured it’d get boring, stuck in here all day.”

“Thanks, Hannah,” Tao said, “You can take a break.”

She checked a cracked but functional watch on her wrist. “Dylan will be here in a minute anyway, I’ll just take off. G’night, Lark.”

She stood, and as she passed Tao he said quietly, “His name is Karlo.”

She hesitated.

“Not according to him.”

Once Hannah was gone, Marina took her place at Karlo’s bedside after setting her and Tao’s combined stack of clothes on the end of the bed. Tao leaned against the doorframe, watching.

“Tao and I brought you some things.”

No response. Karlo stared down at the open book, his eyes unmoving.

“What’s your book about?”

Nothing. Not even a blink.

“Well, I spent all day cooking for everyone. That’s my job, here, I cook.” She knitted and unknitted her hands together in her lap. “Karlo-”

“My name is Lark.” Hissed out like a curse.

Tao caught it: there was the tiniest waver in Karlo’s voice. He was sure Marina heard it too. She swallowed.

“Lark, then,” she yielded, “I-”

“I want to go home.”

Marina took in a shuddering breath. “Oh, baby-”

“To the Commander,” Karlo clarified, “I want to go home to the Commander.”

“Ka- Lark, honey, I don’t understand-”

“Then I’ll tell you.” Karlo’s eye flashed with some kind of mania as he almost – almost – looked at Tao. “I – I am – I am the Commander’s pet,” he drew himself up straighter, forcing out the words, “I’m his whore. I give him everything he wants. I’m not your son. I don’t belong here.”

Horror and gut-wrenching pity tore through Tao. Karlo truly believed he needed to be returned to the Commander – but that didn’t stop the shame of admitting what the Commander had turned him into. As adeptly as Karlo could control his posture, his face, and his voice, there were some things he couldn’t control. A bright red flush crept up his neck and flooded his face as he spoke, as it had when Tao saw his tattoos. His good hand trembled in his lap.

Tao’s eyes flicked to watch Marina; one hand had lifted out of her lap as if to reach out to Karlo, but she thought better of it. She touched her hand to her mouth, then dropped it; then, her voice came out unexpectedly strong.

“Well, you’re here now, whether you like it or not, young man, and here you will stay. You’ll go back to the Commander over my dead body.” She stood up. “Change your clothes, God knows how long you’ve been wearing those.” She turned on her heel and marched over to Tao, her face crumpling as she approached.

“I don’t know…” she breathed when they were toe-to-toe. Tao squeezed her arm.

“It’s okay,” was all he said.

That seemed to fortify her. She cleared her throat and said over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Lark,” and fled the room.

Tao watched her go, then stepped fully into the room and closed the door.

“I’m going to wait with you until Dylan gets here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, alright?”

Karlo had turned his head to glare out the darkening window.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

Whatever? Tao wanted to shout back. He wanted to tell Karlo off for talking to Marina like that, wanted to get some straight answers out of the boy about what he was actually feeling. But Karlo’s shoulders were quivering, and his chest rose and fell too fast. Tao bit his tongue.

They remained in silence for a long minute, Tao shifting from foot to foot by the door and Karlo slowly calming down. Eventually, the boy spoke in a low, icy voice.

“He’ll still kill you to get me back, even if you leave this place.”

“Well, you know what?” Tao replied, “Coms has been listening, and we’ve heard nothing from him. If he really wants you back, he has a funny way of showing it.”

Karlo started to respond, but the door opened without warning.

“Hey Tao!” Dylan, a wiry young man, stopped short in the doorway, “Here for babysitting duty.”

“Right, yeah, um-” Tao bobbed his head, thrown off by Dylan’s sudden appearance. “Okay.”

“Did I interrupt something?” Dylan looked back and forth between Tao and Karlo curiously.

“No, it’s fine, just, uh… Don’t let him out of the room except for the bathroom, got it?”

“Got it, boss.”

“Okay,” Tao looked back at Karlo where he sat in the bed, suddenly looking very small. “Goodnight, Karlo.”

When he got no response, Tao reluctantly shuffled past Dylan out into the hallway, where he took a deep, instinctual breath as if he’d just been diving underwater, searching and grasping for an object lost.

Becca estimated that they’d be able to leave the following night, as long as everything went smoothly. The sooner they got on the move, the sooner Karlo would understand that he was safe. Tao had to believe that.

~~~

“Y’know, I was one of the ones who cracked the transport info, about you,” Dylan smirked at Lark from where he lounged in the chair at Lark’s bedside, “I know what you are.”

Lark tilted his head.

“That makes this so much easier, then,” he murmured.

“Whatcha say?”

Lark took a slow, controlled breath. This was the plan he’d decided on. This was the plan he’d already started. This was the plan he had to go through with.

“Can you… help me change clothes, sir?” Lark asked, putting on his best sweet-and-timid voice, “It’s just, it’s sooo hard with this cast, to get things on and off.” He lifted his broken arm slightly to illustrate his point.

Dylan’s slanted smile widened, and his eyes glinted with unabashed lust.

“Sure.”

Something surged through Lark’s veins, and it took him a moment to identify it as power. Lark had never before been able to pick and choose when and with whom he had sex, and here he was, playing these men like a fiddle. Lark was the one in control now. His beauty and allure made him the dominant one.

He was going to bring as many people as he could to shame and ruin. Then they’d have to get rid of him.

They’d have to send him back.

~~~

“Hey, Tao!”

Tao paused halfway down Faye’s driveway and turned to see the surgeon sanding on her front step.

“Yeah?” he called, starting back towards her.

“Did you steal condoms?” she asked loudly.

“What?” Tao glanced over his shoulder, making sure Marina wasn’t still lingering around. He jogged up to Faye, lowering his voice. “No, why would I steal them when you just give them away? And what do you care if someone snagged a couple?”

“Well, one, it fucks up my inventory, and two…” she hesitated, which was out of character for her. Tao frowned.

“What?” he repeated, concerned this time.

She folded her arms and drummed her fingers on her elbow.

“Vic was the only other one who had an opportunity,” she said quietly, “He came downstairs and then went back up, while I was out of the room. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

“So Vic stole condoms, what does that matter?” Tao huffed.

“Well, a half hour later he left early.”

“And?” Tao shrugged, getting annoyed.

“God, you’re thick!” she threw up her hands, “I think he fucked Karlo!”

“Holy shit, why would Vic f- Why would he do that?” Tao couldn’t bring himself to echo Faye’s vulgar language.

“Because if he had literally any other hookup going on, he would be crowing from the rooftops about it, which is exactly why he gets none and is a desperate horny bastard, Tao!”

Tao froze in shock. Faye was right. The last few times Vic had found willing partners, he’d bragged about it for days leading up to the event and weeks afterward, absolutely destroying the chance of a repeat experience; but Tao knew from that very boasting that Vic was not someone who would ever be interested in an unenthusiastic lover, much less an unwilling one. Tao couldn’t imagine Vic forcing himself on Karlo, not in a million years.

But suddenly, what Tao could imagine was Karlo doing whatever it took to prove himself right.

I’m a whore.

I don’t belong here.

Tao jumped up the steps, brushed past Faye and ran inside. He bounded up the stairs two at a time to the second floor, and flung open Karlo’s door.

Dylan sat on the bed, and Karlo straddled his lap. Karlo cradled Dylan’s face in his good hand, and the other rested in its cast on Dylan’s shoulder. Dylan jerked his head back out of a kiss as the door opened. They were both shirtless, and Tao saw the tattooed lines of text on Karlo snake out of his pants at his hips and arc over his ribs before meeting at the top of his spine, where the words encircled his neck in a permanent collar, previously hidden by Karlo’s turtleneck shirt and his long hair, now pulled aside.

“What the fuck?” Tao shouted.

Karlo turned his head to look at Tao, his eyes burning with a kind of crazed energy and his mouth stretched into the imitation of a smile, slightly pink from kissing. He laughed – the first time Tao had ever heard him laugh, and it was a strange, strangled noise – and he said, “Would you like to join us, Tao?” It sounded more like a threat than an invitation.

Dylan, on the other hand, had a much more appropriate oh shit expression on his face. He roughly shoved Karlo, who fell and landed hard on his back with a whump.

“What the fuck!” Tao yelled again, rushing forward and dropping to his knees at Karlo’s side. The boy hadn’t even winced, he just lay on the floor, grinning.

Dylan jumped to his feet.

“I didn’t mean to, I, I-”

“Put your fucking shirt on and go wait for me downstairs,” snapped Tao.

Dylan snatched up his t-shirt and made a run for it, nearly trampling Faye in his hurry. She cursed as she watched Tao help Karlo sit up.

“Of course he pulled out his IV, too. You know you need that if you’re ever going to get better?”

“Not helping, Faye.” Tao kept one hand firmly on Karlo’s back, and with the other he reached into the stack of clothes that still sat on the bed and pulled out something familiar – one of his own flannel shirts, definitely too big for Karlo but the sleeves were wide enough that the cast wouldn’t give him any trouble.

“Here, let’s put this on.”

But Karlo was looking at him with the same unsettling, manic smile.

“You’ll send me back now, right?” He shifted onto his knees to face Tao. “You have to send me back now.”

“No.” Tao held the shirt open. “Arm.”

“No, no, I…” Karlo gulped, his breathing becoming erratic, “I proved it, I showed you, I’m a whore, I need to go back to the Commander now.”

Tao lowered the shirt. “We’re not doing that-”

“No, please, you don’t want me here,” Karlo shook his head fervently, his smile gone, “I fucked your friend, I fucked Vic, I’ll, I’ll fuck anything that moves, you don’t want me here, I’ll ruin everything.”

“We want you here, Karlo,” said Tao gently.

“My name is Lark!” Karlo raised his voice, hugging his cast to his body, his eyes welling up, “And why would you even want me here, you don’t even want to fuck me! That’s all I'm good for anyway!”

“You deserve to be safe, Karlo,” Tao asserted.

“No I don't!” Karlo screamed, and the tears overflowed. He sobbed, then turned his head sharply to the side, eyes wide, like he was seeing something that wasn’t there. Then he folded forward over his knees, slamming his head into the floor and awkwardly clasping his hands together in front of him around the cast. Now that he had started crying, it was like the floodgates had opened, and he sobbed and babbled uncontrollably.

“Please, please, sir, please, you have to send me back, I don’t want my mom to die, I don’t want my mom to die, please, oh my God, please, you have to send me back-”

Tao sat frozen as Karlo wept, temporarily paralyzed by shock and horror, until he found himself moving as if by instinct. He threw the shirt around Karlo’s bare shoulders, sat him upright, and pulled him into a crushingly tight hug, until he was practically sitting on Tao’s lap. Karlo collapsed against Tao’s chest, wailing full-throated into the older man’s shoulder. Tao held onto him for dear life, rocking him back and forth and whispering words into Karlo’s hair that he didn’t know the origin of.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, it's going to be okay, you’re safe here, nothing’s going to hurt you anymore. Shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He lifted his head, pausing his affirmations.

“Faye, can you get Marina?”

She nodded and slipped out, but Karlo struggled in Tao’s grasp.

“No, wait, I don’t want her to see me, I don’t want her to see…” He sobbed, clawing at the tattoo around his neck. This close, Tao could see the words.

I AM A GOOD PET. I DO NOT THINK. I OBEY.

“Hey, hey,” Tao caught Karlo’s hand, “She’ll still love you, no matter what.”

Karlo looked up at him, almost looking like he could believe it, before his face twisted and he pressed back into the crook of Tao’s shoulder.

“Karlo,” he spat out bitterly, “She loved Karlo.” His shoulders shook with renewed sobs.

“Well,” Tao squeezed his hand where it was pinned between them, “I like Lark, too.”

Lark let out a little gasp, and Tao realized it was a laugh, a real laugh, not the strained, forced thing he’d heard earlier. Lark relaxed in Tao’s arms, and Tao held him close, pressing his lips to the top of Lark’s head without a thought.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Lark took a slow, shuddering breath, and squeezed Tao’s hand back.

That’s when they heard the gunfire.

~~~

First, Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @whump-em, @morning-star-whump, @thecyrulik

[spicywhumper]

Alphabet of Whump 2024 – Zip(-ties)

The Beauty of Suffering // Series: A Coven's Violence // Warnings: dehumanization, it/its pronouns for a person, dubcon kissing

Violet wondered if she could pull hard enough to snap the zip-ties biding Its wrists together. The hard plastic dug into Its scarred skin, Its shoulders were faintly aching with the position of Its arms forced behind Its back. Violet was kneeling, perfect posture and head hung low, like the good little thing It was.

Mistress circled Violet, her fingers tracing lines of muscles in Its shoulders and back. She stopped behind It, her hand cupped the back of Its neck. A firm, possessive touch. A touch that made the girl growl and spit curses, disgusted and revolted by the touch. She always was disgusted and revolted by Mistress' intimate touches.

Mistress' thumb caressed the base of Its skull. it'd be a soothing touch (it sort of was a soothing touch, Violet's body wanted to relax). The leaned closer, hot breath against Its ear, it sent shivers down Its spine.

"You keep getting prettier, that's impressive."

Violet purred, a noise that was rewarded by a kiss under Its ear. And then more kisses following Its jawline. Her other hand cupped Its face and turned it until she could kiss Violet's mouth. Her mouth was almost too warm, and tasted bitter like all that liquor she drank beforehand. She pulled Violet a little closer, breathing picking up. She pulled back with Violet's bottom lip between her teeth.

"Good girl," she whispered. "My good girl."

[civilight-eterna]

Hope you've had a good weekend!! I love your works!!

It's my life's mission to spread the good word of Muelheyak and the possibilities of their enemies to enemies (sexual) dynamic. Would you be willing to cook up some messy elf getting dicked down with extra constrictor tail coiling?

thank you so much for saying so!! and thanks for this delicious request. okay FAIR WARNING it gets a little fucked-up and cruel but god DAMN is Ho'olheyak a blast to write.

cw: choking, asphyxiation, noncon/dubcon, bodily abuse (internal, external), tailsex

...

"Asphyxiation is a dreadful way to go."

Ho'olheyak is talking about it the way someone notices the turn of the weather outside: as though she's seated in a quaint little cafe and a gray rain has begun to pitter-patter against the warm glow of the window.

In no way does her tone belie the reality of what she's doing.

Muelsyse is completely bound in her tail, draped backwards over her ample lap. Her head is suspended upside-down, hair trailing and puddling against the floor, the end of Ho'olheyak's tail invading her mouth and worming against the back of her throat as the rest of it wraps around, leaves her more and more light-headed with each sinuous flex around her neck, her chest, her waist.

"But my, your body can take quite a bit, can't it? My lovely little elf."

Muelsyse groans from around her tail, struggling to keep her mouth open, hands helplessly pinned behind her back and against her captor's lap.

"...There you go. You already know what'll happen if you try to bite again. Good girl. Just like that. Open your throat for me."

Ho'olheyak's nails dance across the midline of her body, dipping between the gaps left exposed by her constrictive tail, admiring their way down between her legs. Muelsyse gags, hard and dry, around her tail, but her chest has nowhere to go from beneath it. She's just losing air.

She whimpers, tries to put herself into enough of a state of mind to push past the revulsion, to just focus on the abstract pleasure of being suffocated. If she tries to think of anything else, she's lost. She just has to live. She doesn't know what's in her captor's head-though as her fingers stroke deep between her legs she finds her prior suspicions confirmed-but the luxury to think beyond behaving in a way that pleases Ho'olheyak is long since passed.

She has to satisfy her. Her tongue laves obediently, and her legs squirm slightly apart to demonstrate her compliance.

Her reward is a wicked, sin-sweet laugh as one, two, three fingers plunge inside, too easily to hide what effect she's having on her body.

"...My, I didn't expect you for the type." She articulates her comments with deepening pumps of her fingers. "And just look at your pretty little neck now-" She coos, knowing full well Muelsyse can't see, even as part of her tail loosens from around it as the tip continues to swab it deeper, "-Your throat pushes forward whenever I push a little, like this-"

Tears spring to her eyes as Ho'olheyak demonstrates her complete dominion of her.

"-Like a cute little frog. Ribbit, ribbit. Hehe."

It hurts. It's absolute insanity. It's humiliating. It's-

-over.

All at once, Ho'olheyak slides her tail slowly out of Muelsyse's mouth, letting every inch of it drag from between her lips, letting all the saliva ooze down off of it and out of her mouth while she's still upside-down. It drips down her cheeks, threatens to spill into her nose, but the relief at being able to breathe again supercedes all else. All she can think to do as her tail uncoils from around her is to breathe, breathe, breathe. She's coughing and gasping miserably, her eyes dim and half-mast for want of air, light-headed from being inverted so long.

She's completely distracted with the prospect of simply living that it's already too late when she notices the wet tip of her tail teasing her clit, easing between her soaked lower lips.

"Uuuaaah-" Muelsyse wails as it plunges, wiggles inside, thrusting back and forth with unbelievable dexterity, rolling waves of pleasure along inside of her in a calculated rhythm. Ho'olheyak's hand presses against her stomach drags down low, petting her, and she can feel the shape of her tail bulging up against her fingertips through her body.

"So messy. Listen to that sound." Ho'olheyak teases her, letting each wet slap of every pump echo loudly. "You know...? I can give you something a little extra special. You've been so good for me."

Her tail starts fluttering around, as though looking for something. Muelsyse is already overstimulated, but the moment that the tip of her tail finds what it's looking for, she feels a sharp pain deep, deep inside, and can't help but cry out indistinctly.

"-Right here." Ho'olheyak spreads her free hand over Muelsyse's chest, caressing her pounding heart through her clothing the way a predator prefaces a mortal wound. "Your heart's beating so fast. Because down here-" The hand on her stomach drifts downward again, anchoring her-

"-I'm going to lay my claim to this tight little womb of yours."

The sharp pain from before stretches, intensifies, and Muelsyse sees white as the tail tip breaches the tiny space, flutters itself inside.

It's heaven. It's agony.

And it goes on, and on, and on-Ho'olheyak's tail continues to roll through her cunt, forward and back, even as the tip stays carefully lodged in that space, makes sure everything hurts.

She knows it's what she wants. She knows she won't stop until she's satisfied.

So she opens her mouth and sobs, without trying to hold it back. She doesn't ignore what's happening-rather, it's become a discipline of the lack thereof. She lets the pleasure crest high inside her like a wave-

-and comes, crashing down.

[e-m-p-error]

[ @cervidae-demon LIKED For A Starter || Husk ]

[ Valentino ]

"Hey, Gatito~"

He was drunk. So drunk. Too drunk to get it up, but that didn't matter right now. No, what mattered was that he was going to get his kiss.

The mistletoe on his good antenna weighed it forward as he perked it up, stumbling against the bar. Leaning over it, he tried to reach it over to the bartender. Pressing his upper hands on the bar and gripping the edge with his lower ones, he leaned forward more.

Planting a kiss on Husk's forehead, he tried to drag his lips down his face, but he stumbled again, too drunk to stay on his heels.

[having-conniptions]

Brooooo I can NOT get over the fact that KinnPorsche's first time was the one where one of them was drugged and there was no protection used (or at least not shown) and VegasPete's first time was the one with consent and protection lmao

[drfrankensteinvsthequeerborgs]

Bobby: “Y’know, sirens are nasty things. That it got to you, that’s no reason to feel bad.”

what a curious thing to say, father figure who’s much less uptight than their bio father especially about sexuality considering the most common method of siren saliva ingestion and no indication you were given an explanation otherwise

[bitbrumal]

                                                                                  QUESTION                 @aalberich​​​   ↤   accepting    ::   HE’S A TEN, BUT...   ↩

"he's a ten, but he deserves better than me.   don't debase yourself, ayaks." [ >B)c ]

AYAKS  ‘he’s a ten but he deserves better.’

     huh. the callus on his thumb fits right into the dip behind his jaw- can scritch there on the thinnest border line between ticklish & titillating. ayaks’ mouth is a tight line as another’s carries on slipping up. ‘don’t debase yourself, ayaks.’ he says, & his hand slides across that rickety pulse - settles round his nape in some forbidding fashion.

                       the fool has the gall to smile. it’s thin. it’s real.

            it is pried apart by freckled fingers. it is claimed.

            ayaks kisses with the confidence of a man whose heart has always wanted the same thing & always recognised it. perhaps this is cruel. too brutal. perhaps the warmth of his mouth doesn’t make up for the anger in it; perhaps this honesty is too much. there’s a soft little face cradled in his hands & he lays waste to it the way those words lay waste to h i m.

it is brutal. but it is not harsh. maybe.

fuck, who knows.

—ayaks makes them go down together, curls around that lithe body that doesn’t think it’s worth shit. presses him into the comfort of a couch. straddles his chest & contaminates him. feel what i feel for you. soft soft blue tangles round fingers that will not let go — until the sweet warmth of him is felt, hungered for, worked to be made to feel beautiful. the growl in his throat speaks of something jagged.        & his grip doesn’t shift. he knows exactly how to hold someone still.

                                if the heat of this feeling could press through, could sink into that cold chest, would it be enough? can he love well enough to make a man this good-know it?

heat surges with every facet of this hurt. it sparks when pain twangs ( that resigned sadness-! ), lances up through every wound kaeya shares into ayaks’ own soul. it is everything he cannot be protected from through traditional means.       the drugging weight of a kiss ends where lips cling / bruised. slick, pinched between his teeth just a little ere he lets go. “you don’t say that shit to me.” it comes out half-mad & ragged / black as the snarling confidence of it. never has he kissed anyone this way & it may not mean a thing to all his fossilised agony. “you do not say that shit to me.”

          “i decide who’s good enough.” the smell of sbiten mingles with frost. so close he could taste it - that it drowns out the spice of dandelion wine. gingers, tiny little gremlin gingers everywhere; catching the sun in their hair & their buckteeth. the warmth of a hug that is never in full, the gaggle of siblings that don’t know him. “don’t fucking insult me by saying someone i l-ove this much-” breath catches where it wasn’t expected to. ayaks trips over it in a gasp, shocks forward / mouth to mouth & the way lips cling where they are slick. “don’t you fucking insult me.”

                  family family family          & a man               so good he is better.

he wasn’t ever meant to be. i promise, mom. no comparison has been made—( he never meant to feel this, too )—it’s just a horrible offence. rooted in fact as its only argument, & yet it wins. going to mondtstad for a stolen visit versus a week spent faking it with people he loves more than they would even know him in turn.    there’s no comparison because they don’t feel like the same thing.            “you’re mine. i’m not letting you go.” shudders wrack these words / tug tension into muscle & bone. the glacier of his being heaves to give up one of its own fossils. family family family & it doesn’t matter. ayaks bares his teeth. they’re so close kaeya’s pretty eye is blurry. he doesn’t want to see it. “stop talking like i’m going to fucking go.”

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[survivingandenduring]

“He takes it. There isn’t a thought in his head. He lets his lips smash gently into yours, then your mouths seal together. You moan from your throat, making him twitch. His tongue finds yours, and his weary body is soothed as he takes this new part of you.”

can someone check on me in a few hours please?

😫🥵💗😭💀

the kiss (raider POV)

600 words, raider!Joel x f!reader

IMGs: closeup of his mouth, shooting target heart, wet sweet peas

I8+ Takes place during sex (sweet pea in his lap), toward the end of the fic bodies. Asked by @heartstoptrying and others. Happy v-day, sweet peas 🌸

You're such a good girl. You take it so good. You're snug around his cock, with his arms snug around you. He moves you at a steady tempo, and the sweetest sounds leave your lips. Your cheek rests against his, and he holds you as close as he can. He needs more. His skin tingles as his beard lightly drags against your cheek, with his head drifting backwards and his mouth inching toward yours. The corners of your mouths touch. Your heavy breaths against his skin make him even stiffer inside you. He’s aching to come, but denies himself the friction that could instantly do it. He holds you down, rocking into you, needing all of you wrapped around him--you're so wet and soft. His lips brush yours, and butterflies take his chest, then rush through his blood to his groin, his thighs, his arms that can't pull you any closer. He needs more. Your lips brush again and send a shiver down his spine. Your mouths half-connect. He breathes your warm air and feels it on his cheek. He has to have more.

His heart pounds in the shell of his ear. He loosens his arms and pulls his face back. He rests his forehead against yours and cradles your head. His jaw drifts toward yours. Your noses touch, your lips touch. A surge of arousal makes him throb inside you. As he brings you up and down, his lips hitch on yours. He can have more, it's right there.

He takes it. There isn’t a thought in his head. He lets his lips smash gently into yours, then your mouths seal together. You moan from your throat, making him twitch. His tongue finds yours, and his weary body is soothed as he takes this new part of you.

You begin to kiss back. Your mouths move together at a smooth rhythm. His arms tighten as he drinks and breathes you, filling his body with you and feeling it buzz inside him. In his tight embrace, your soft breasts smush into his chest, dewy with heat, dragging against the coarse hair, pulling it pleasantly. Your nipples harden, and so do his. He breathes through his nose and can't get enough.

His hand slides from your head to the nape of your neck, and he holds you there. He feels the thin leather strap under his fingers, then a burst of affection from his solar plexus. He kisses you and rocks you with his cock sheathed in your tight, wet cunt. You twitch around him, and he grunts into your mouth.

You whimper and your lips break away. His hand reflexively tightens on the back of your neck, holding you there, lips resting loosely against his. He moans as your walls clench down, and your heated breaths are caught in his beard. You’re squeezing him so good. He twitches, grunts, and takes the breath from your mouth as his lips embrace yours again. He erupts with a moan, holding you close, not letting you break away as your body spasms into his and he unleashes massive bursts of himself. He kisses you slow and deep, both of you vocal as you finish.

When the last of his cum dribbles out, he breaks away for a deep breath and strokes the back of your neck gently above the choker. His body is spent, but abuzz with something new--more of you. It's swimming in his chest and making his head light. He collapses in slow motion, then his back's flat on the bed with his cock still inside you. You're so warm and comfy. He closes his eyes with his hand on his chest. Within seconds, he feels it again–he needs more. He beckons you closer.

-----

Thank you for reading!

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[the-bar-sinister]

Kiss Prompt 60: Out of Hate

In the early days Ocelot thought he hated Kaz, but that didn't make him want to kiss him any less. If anything, it made him want to kiss him even more, if only because of how much it seemed to annoy the other man.

Ocelot, ever the consummate torturer, delighted in the absolute frustration, anger and confusion he got from Miller every time he grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his lips.It was becoming a bit of a distracting habit; he felt compelled to steal one every time he passed Kaz on the base.

What was the harm?

ao3 link

kiss prompt list

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 9: I Shouldn’t Take Advantage

Here it comes!

~2220 words

CW: alcohol, discussion of grooming, trafficking; dubcon kiss

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~~~

Simon was distant with them the rest of the day. Matthew had expected him to be cold, or even outright angry, but instead the few times Simon emerged from his room he appeared lost in thought. He did engage a little more when Amber stopped by to see him. She apologized profusely, and he repeated what he’d said to Matthew the night before: Finch would have killed you. It’s better this way. Matthew found himself thinking Simon could’ve been at least a little bit mad at her - there was a reason he’d never replied to her texts - but he didn’t interfere. All in all, Gina and Matthew kept their interactions with him limited to ensuring he ate, stayed hydrated, and was experiencing no worrying symptoms. Simon insisted on changing his own bandages, which Matthew didn’t take as a good sign.

Matthew worried himself to sleep that night. He took the cot, to give Gina a break. He felt like he had made so much progress with Simon, and now it was all undone. He’d made Simon laugh, for crying out loud - twice! They’d been making baby steps towards Simon telling Matthew more about himself, first the stuff with Isles, then the tidbit about the bleach and the nightmares. Now it could all be ruined.

Matthew was stress-dreaming about Simon kicking them out of the apartment entirely when he was shaken awake.

“Hey! Hey!” 

Matthew pushed himself up on one elbow and forced his bleary eyes to focus in the faint glow of the night light. Simon was crouched next to the cot, staring at him with wide dark eyes.

“Wha’s wrong?” Matthew mumbled, “Nightmare?”

“Get up,” Simon whispered, “Come with me.” He tugged on Matthew’s arm. It was unusually forward for him.

Matthew sat up, moving quietly to avoid waking Gina.

“What’s going on?”

“Come onnn!” Simon wrapped both hands around Matthew’s bicep and pulled. This close to him, Matthew caught a whiff of alcohol. He jumped to his feet, and had to catch Simon by his shoulders to keep him from falling backwards.

“Are you drunk?!” Matthew hissed.

Simon wiggled away from him.

“Jus’ come with me!” he loudly whispered, wobbling around the TV into the hallway.

Matthew frantically looked back and forth between him and Gina - still sound asleep - before feeling like he had no choice but to follow.

If this was what he thought it was, this wasn’t the way he wanted it to happen.

He followed Simon into the bedroom. Simon opened the door like a valet, shooing Matthew through and closing it behind them. Then he bounded over to the bed and jumped on, sitting cross-legged on the rumpled bedspread (long since cleaned and returned to its place). He patted the bed in front of him, indicating Matthew should sit as well.

It looked like this wasn’t what Matthew thought it was - but that didn’t mean he knew what was happening. He hesitantly climbed onto the bed and mirrored Simon.

“Simon, what -”

“Shh!” Simon lifted a hand, “Don’t talk.” They weren’t whispering anymore, but they still kept their voices low.

“Okay…?”

“I said don’t talk!”

Matthew nodded mutely. Simon looked down at his hands, knitting them together and twisting them as he searched for his next words.

“I wanna tell you everything,” Simon said at last. Matthew opened his mouth but closed it again, letting Simon continue.

“I like you. I decided I trust you. You already know half of it. And you can tell Gina whatever you want, that’s fine, but nobody else. Jus’ you. I just want it over with. I’m sorry I couldn’t… I’m sorry I couldn’t do it sober.”

Matthew couldn’t help himself any longer.

“Alcohol’s a blood thinner,” he warned, “With your concussion…”

“I know!” Simon pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, “I know, I know… Please, just listen to me.”

Matthew took a breath, but nodded.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

Simon slowly lowered his hands from his eyes and stared at them in his lap.

Then he began. He spoke at first as if he were reciting a memorized list, slightly slurring his words.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was nine. I grew up in foster care. No one was mean to me, but I was mean to them. So when I turned eighteen I was alone. I failed my s-senior year. I had to go to a summer program. Lara was a volunteer there.”

“Lara… Everett?” Matthew breathed.

Simon nodded quickly, still not looking at Matthew.

“I should have known. That something was wrong. She talked to everyone about their families, the friends, and she… zeroed in on me as soon as she found out I had none. I should have known something was wrong, from the way she got all interested when she realized I was alone, or the way she got… excited when I told her my mom’s family was from Brazil. But she was grown-up, and beautiful, and rich, and she said everything that a teenage boy would want to hear.” Simon shifted uncomfortably, a hand going to his ribs. His voice grew strained.

“I tried to finish my senior year, I really did. But I was living in a group home and I hated it, I hated it. She kept saying I should drop out of school and move - move in with her, so I did. Right after I turned nineteen.” He was breathing harder now.

“A while after I moved in she told me her family’s business had failed, that we were going to run out of money, and be home - homeless,” he gulped down air, “It was all a lie, I figured that out after a while, but she convinced me that we needed to make money, fast, and that selling my blood was the best way. She was like, anemic, so it couldn’t be her, she said. And I really loved, I really loved her a lot,” Simon’s voice broke, and he pressed his hands to his eyes again, “So I said yes, and it started with blood draws, but then she said we’d make so much more money if they could feed - feed from me directly, and then we’d make so much more if they could do… Other stuff. With me.”

He froze for a little while, hands on his face, just breathing. Matthew watched him, rapt and wide-eyed. When Simon spoke again, his voice was a whisper.

“It just kept getting worse. But I really loved her. And then…”

His hands dropped back to his lap, twisting together again in painful-looking contortions.

“There was this one vampire,” Simon said faintly, “And it was really… awful. And she promised me I’d never have to do that again. Then later she said he was… coming back. And I couldn’t do it,” his voice faded to barely audible, “So I - I killed her.”

Simon finally sobbed, tension falling from his shoulders. But he soldiered on, his voice wet.

“I called the police on myself, because I thought I would go to jail for it. I didn’t know any better. But then Christian was there, and he took care of me, and they tried to put me in victim protection, but every plan they offered I told them exactly why it wouldn’t work, until Christian was like, ‘Damn! You know your stuff!’” Simon laughed through his tears, “So now, now I work here. But I can’t leave, not ever. Not ever.”

Simon wiped his hands across his teary face, forcing himself to breath slowly. Matthew gave him a moment to collect himself before speaking.

“You were never a field agent?”

“N-no.”

“Did you even go through any training?”

“Not - not really.” Simon tucked his chin down further, embarrassed.

No wonder Isles said their team was an experiment. Matthew shook his head in disbelief.

“So you really can’t leave? What about if all the vampires are captured? Couldn’t that happen?”

Simon stilled. He finally looked up at Matthew.

“Some of them are too powerful for the VIU.”

“How’s that possible?” Matthew asked, “We bring in grade As all the time.”

“It’s not just about the grade - I mean it can be, but…” Simon pressed a hand to his bandaged temple and sleepily fumbled through an explanation. “Y’know how some vampires form families? Some take it further, some form compounds, too strong for the VIU to break up. Dozens of vampires, protecting each other. They keep humans captive, instead of killing to feed, so their body count’s lower. That’s how the VIU justifies leaving them alone.”

“So…” Matthew put the pieces together, “The way the VIU operates right now, some of the vampires that hurt you will never be captured.”

Simon nodded, lifting his tear-streaked face to look at the ceiling.

“I’m gonna be down here forever.”

The words hung between them in the air. Matthew felt like he was unable to absorb half of what Simon had told him. He rubbed his face, and found himself a bit teary-eyed. He looked at the clock on the bedside table, which was surrounded by empty beer cans: 1:53 AM.

“Have you slept at all?” he asked.

“No. I was working up the nerve to talk to you.” Following Matthew’s gaze, Simon plucked up a beer can and gave it an appraising shake. Liquid sloshed within. He started to lift it to his lips, but Matthew snatched it away.

“No more of that,” Matthew ordered, “Get some sleep. We can talk more about everything in the morning.”

“Wait, can you stay with me?” Simon asked, suddenly awake and wide-eyed.

“Like… Here, in your room?” Matthew asked hesitantly.

“Yes! Please, I don’t -” Simon shook his head breathlessly, “I don’t want to be alone, I know I’m going to freak out if I’m alone, after digging all that up.”

“I guess I could sleep on the floor?” Matthew slowly suggested, watching Simon carefully.

“No, I mean, I want…” Simon’s hands flitted together in front of him for a moment before he reached out and touched Matthew’s knee. “Please stay with me.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” Matthew started.

“Please stay with me!” Simon burst out, “I can’t be alone after that, please, please don’t go!”

Matthew froze.

“Uhh…”

“Please,” Simon started sobbing, the tears flowing again and his words melding together, “I don’t wanna be alone down here anymore, I want you to stay -”

He cut himself off by leaning forward and crashing his lips into Matthew’s, his hands grabbing at Matthew’s shirt. Matthew kissed back for the briefest moment before catching himself and pulling away.

“Simon, I can’t, you’re drunk -”

“I don’t care!” Simon cried, “Please don’t leave me, please!”

Matthew detached Simon’s hands from his shirt as gently as he could.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he said firmly, “Would that be okay?”

“No, I need you to…” Simon grabbed Matthew’s waistband, “I need you, I’ll do whatever you want.” His eyes sought out Matthew’s desperately, wide and tearful, “I know you want me, I know-”

“No,” Matthew moved Simon’s hand away again, avoiding his gaze, “I’m not doing that. I’ll be right back.”

Matthew quickly got off the bed, gathered up the rest of the empty cans, and left, while Simon doubled over on the bed and wept. He found the lights in the main room were on, and Gina stood by the light switch.

“What the fuck is going on?” she demanded.

“Uhh…” Matthew glanced over his shoulder towards the sounds of crying, then back at her.

“He told me everything. Now he’s not doing so good. Plus…” he hefted the cans in his arms.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Matthew dumped the cans into the sink with a clatter, “I’m going to sleep in there on the floor.”

He went to the cot and rolled up his sheets and blankets along with the thin mattress.

“Okay,” Gina said, “Just be… mindful.”

It was odd phrasing, but Matthew understood what she was driving at.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he assured her, “I won’t let it.”

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth.

“Okay,” she murmured, and watched him carry his bedroll and pillow back to the bedroom.

Simon was a silent lump under the covers when Matthew returned. Matthew wasn’t sure whether Simon was asleep already or just ignoring him, but he said “I’m here,” anyway. He unrolled the burrito of bedding onto the floor and dropped the pillow into place. Still receiving no response from Simon, he laid down and pulled up the covers.

The bright lights blared down, making it hard to keep his eyes closed. All this new information was like a tornado passing through his brain, uprooting long-held assumptions and delivering strange, new discoveries. Simon wasn’t a young prodigy; he’d never finished highschool, much less got a bachelor’s and gone through academy training. He didn’t have a few vampires with a grudge after him, he had over two dozen that were utterly obsessed. He wasn’t a cool-headed expert with a storied past, he was a victim. A tragedy. A blubbering mess. Even sober, hooking up with him would be unethical, wouldn’t it?

Matthew cursed himself for thinking about relationship potential at a time like this.

Besides, knowing what he knew now, and as much as he wished there was, clearly there wasn’t any.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy @pigeonwhumps @sunshiline-writes @seasaltandcopper

[dmitriene]

cw: hybrids, dubcon (?), trapping, knotting and things.

dog hybrid simon riley that tries to mount you, it's not his fault, it's his owner who's responsible for bringing a sweet, docile kitten in the house that already has a big dog, he's never showed his affection to any possible animals around, even to his own specie, how he should, but upon meeting you, soft, supple thing with groomed tail and fluffy ears, he remembers he has a cock to stuff and breed.

you expected him to scent you and then forget about you, after all, he's a scary dog, and the man that took you promised that he's lazy and wouldn't even bat an eye at you, but as soon as your feet touched the floor, simon bumped you down on the parquet floor with his whole, heavy weight, pressing his rugged mug between your legs, huffing out a terrifying, pleases groan, his tail wagging left and right.

it's led to you almost clawing his eyes out, hissing and scurrying as far away from him as possible, threatening that you'll slice his face if he'd try it again, defensive little thing, a sight that pulls a lopsided grin to his pale lips, making your fur stand up on your ears and body, forgetting about trying to make up friends, knowing best than talking to this horny mutt.

yet simon plays it off, acts as apologetic as he can, tucking his excited tail between his burly legs, lowers his ears down, almost manages to do these honeyed, puppy eyes when he passes you across the house, getting under your fur, by helping you, giving you his sleeping place while the owner orders a new one for you, even stoles some treats for you from the kitchen.

anything, just to lower your awareness of him, making you warm up to an unruly mutt and feel comfortable with and beside him, pushing his inappropriate behavior to pure curiosity, seeing that he ain't trying to do something like that again, even through there's a sleazy murkiness to his eyes you can't piece together, until your heat doesn't hits you.

you come to him willingly, padding from your bedding to his, where he's all sprawled out, deep asleep with rumbling snores, and your mind to hazy to comprehend what's happening, why it's so hot, why you're all leaky between your furry, supple thighs, plopping beside him with loud, needy purrs, as you rub against his whole body, ass perched out with your pretty, curving spine.

simon knew you'd come, waited for your heat to struck, for you to seek him as your comforter, nuzzle your adorable face with whiny mewls in his thick palm, he's not a patient dog, and he won't torture you by acting like he's asleep, so he rises and tugs you close, pressing you into his bed, making you arch sweet and sharp enough to present your needy, fluttering hole, messy with dripping slick.

he eats your pussy properly, messes his whole maw with your slick and creamy cum, nose pressed in your silken, soaking fur, while he flattens his rough, thick tongue against your puffy folds and bumpy, swollen clit, slurping down on you when he nudges at your slit, licking further to your clenching hole, stuffing you with at least something for a short time, preparing you for his knot.

you welcome his chubby cock properly, your hole tight, yet so slick that simon is able to sheathe himself along your rippling, pulsing walls in couple of squelchy slides, flicking his finger against your throbby, little bud of nerves, looking at the way you purr and meow in pleasure as he stretches you out, filling you so full your soft, little tummy bulges out from his girth.

simon will knock you up, knot your tight pussy nice, making you claw at his wide shoulders while he slobbers over your fluffy, plump tits, rough tongue torturing your perky nipples, suckling wet kisses on your tender body, that would be even more so after he'd make sure you're pregnant with his chubby pups, as you keen his name and plead him to breed you.

ears pressed tight to your head, flicking at each pound of his engorged, fattening cock in your leaking hole, rutting his thickening tip against your cervix, your spongy spot rubbing against his veiny shaft rapidly, making you writhe, turning his wide, muscular back in a mess of bleeding crescent scratches, as your long tail wraps around his leg, brushing against his thumping one, accepting simon's popping knot with pitchy meows and gushy hole.

your pregnancy would be an owners problem by the morning, when he'd stumble across you tucked against simon's solid chest, purring in your peaceful slumber after being sufficiently filled with loads of potent, thick cum, morning air filled with guttural, protective growls and clogging scent of sex, and it's seems like it's wouldn't be easy to make simon stay away from you from now on.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[e-m-p-error]

☁️ (for Valentino)

Our muses are having an argument and things are getting physical and heated. Send me ‘☁’ for my muse to kiss yours passionately and angrily, initiating sex.

[ Valentino ]

"What, you think you can just--"

To say that he was pissed was the understatement of the year. Valentino was going to go nuclear any minute, now, and Angel Dust was just going to have to deal with that. It wouldn't be fun, but it was what he'd done to himself.

"Do you think I want to do this? Huh? You think I like having to do this?!"

Both of his lower hands shot out to grab at Angel's upper arms, his upper hands taking both of his wrists in hand. Lurching forward, he smashed their faces together, unskilled at first. Once the kiss was established, it softened just a bit, and his head tipped to the side. Licking over the seam of Angel's lips, he left behind a tingling trail of pink saliva.

"I don't want you not to live here," He growled against his lips, "You're mine, Angie. Mine. You belong to me."

It didn't matter, suddenly, that they'd been fighting. His lips met Angel's again and his lower hands moved to the other's buttons on his coat, expertly starting to undo them. He needed this, and Angel had better not tell him no.

What he craved was their closeness again. He needed to feel important to Angel Dust like he usually did. He had to be the most important thing in the spider's life or he just might die brokenhearted.

"Tell me," Biting softly at the other's lips, he swiped his tongue over the seam of Angel's lips, "Who you love." And it better be me, went unsaid.

[dead-dove-orchid]