#full on dry sobbing like i feel delirious

[fridakahloblvd]

IM STUCK BETWEEN A ROCK (Gale) AND A HARD PLACE (Wyll)

like…i just have to laugh. i impulsively kissed Wyll because he was being so cute, like he was really winning me over. and besides, why hasn’t Gale kissed ME yet?? Wyll and Lae’zel both had more guts than him ):

this is the first time he’s made his intentions VERY CLEAR, like not just flirting and all because he got jealous ):

but i had to exit the game and just sob because im thinking way too hard about this lmao. i don’t wanna make a decision):

im gonna go with Gale for this run, specifically because i accidentally put my Tav and him in matching colors :( hopefully i’ll get a kiss from him now?

[ladylooch]

I miss Mack and David

I can just imagine one of them having a really bad nightmare, like takes about a minute to ground themselves and register that they are okay once they've woken up. And the other being there to just hold them and cuddle back to sleep 🥹

A/N: This is sooooooo late. Like last season late. I am so sorry 😢

TW: farming accident, death, blood

Word Count: 900

Mack is watching her husband die. 

Right before her, the life is draining from his eyes from where he is pinned under the massive John Deere tractor in a field. Mack is screaming out as loud as she can, clutching his hand, begging for someone, anyone to come. She can hear the sirens of the firetrucks racing towards her, but deep in her soul, dread blooms, knowing they are going to arrive too late. She tries to swallow, choking on air as David attempts to squeeze her hand. His skin is so cold on hers, even in the middle of the unforgiving summer heat.

“Honey, help.” He gurgles. Mack can’t look at his face. She can’t see the blood trail down from the corner of his mouth due to widespread internal bleeding. All she can do is keep looking to the edge of the field, desperate to see someone running towards them, like they could get the tractor off him and tend to his injuries in time.

Mack wasn’t even supposed to come out for lunch today, but something told her she should. The picnic basket with their lunch is long gone, thrown into the field so she could run as fast as she could when she saw him pinned. She had fumbled her phone, sobbing so hard the 911 operator could barely get the farm address from her. 

Precious seconds she wasted because she isn’t capable of being strong while seeing the love of her life in such distress. Not like David can. She isn’t strong like him.

“Hold on.” Mack hears herself sob. She squeezes her eyes shut, rocking forward into the Iowa dirt, absorbing some of it in the tear tracks down her cheeks. She turns to look at him. His green eyes are dimmer, face twisted and full of discomfort until.. it gradually starts to relax. Mack panics, feeling the bile file her throat. He’s losing his light. “No, no, no, no. You can’t leave me!” She screams. “David! I can’t live without you!”

Then everything goes to black.

Then it fades to grey as the curtains across the room come into focus.

Deliriously, Mack shoots up. She touches the spot where David is supposed to be. When he isn’t there, and the sheets are too cold, she begins to shout for him. The faint whirling in the kitchen stops and heavy boots thump down the hallway. The bedroom door opens as Mack stands, hurling herself off the bed and into his arms. He catches her effortlessly.

“Honey, what’s going on? You okay?”

“No! Don’t go out today! Don’t go in the field! You’re going to die!”

“What?” David murmurs, confused.

“I saw it. It happened. You get crushed under the tractor and you die! In my arms!”

“Baby…” He murmurs quietly, concern pulling his brows together. 

“Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go. Please.” She begs, beginning to sob so hard she is hyperventilating.

Silently, David kicks his boots off. He carriers her in his arms to the bed, crawling back onto it with Mack clinging to him like a baby possum. She starts to weep more so out of relief- that he is listening and that the dream she had isn’t real. Because beneath her cheek his heart beats, strong and steady, full of life and health. His palm comes to her hair, holding her to his chest as he continuously breathes. His thumb brushes away a few of her wild tears as she hiccups painfully.

They lay like that for a while; Mack isn’t sure how long. 

But she is exhausted with drying tear streaks down her cheeks when he pulls away to look at her face.

“It was a dream.” He murmurs. “A really bad one. But only a dream.” She startles when he shifts.

“No, please, stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere right now.” He assures her. Her fingers curl deeper into the opening of his flannel shirt. Her nails dig further into the hefty fabric to try and ground herself here with him. “But I do have to go into the field today.” He says regretfully. Mack freezes. “You can come with me? Keep me safe? No tractor today either so there is nothing to worry about there.” He combs her hair back, letting her consider. Finally, she nods. She can feel his smile on her forehead. “Good. It’s gonna be a few hours before I need to get out there. How about you get some more sleep and I’ll come in after you’re up to get you?” Mack sniffs, then nods.

“You won’t go without me?”

“No. Wouldn’t do that to you.” He kisses her lips. “Plus, spending the day with you will be much more fun than the boys.” His hand begins to rub long strokes vertically down her back. He knows this movement gets her back to sleep the quickest. He shifts her more to the side of him, preparing to be able to move out from under her when she falls back to sleep. 

Mack reaches up to hold his neck, stroking his grown out hair there. Her eye lids close, letting herself get lost in the smells, sounds and touches of her love. It soothes her racing heart and aching chest.

He is safe.

They’re okay. 

It was just a dream

And today she doesn’t have to know life without David Carlson. 

[fatuifucker]

Hello! For the event, could I request a Sub!Kazuha and a Dom!Reader? The reader can be gn!

sub catboy! kazuha x service dom m-bodied reader (note: requester sent in another ask, for reader to have pp)

WARNINGS = smut, penetration, unprotected sex, oral (reader giving), dacryphilia, breeding mention, nipple play

W/C = 0.5k

TAGS = @fluffyganyu, @nejibot, @yumixxn, @teallapril, @edenialucas

Heats are difficult for cat hybrids. Although you are not one yourself, as the owner of seven catboys, suffice to say you have a lot of experience regarding heats. This is another one of those instances. Your dear Kazuha had to be pulled aside from his cafe duties, escorted home so that his scent wouldn’t tempt your other catboys. Looks like you’ll have to tend to him all day, which isn’t an issue since you trust Albedo with the management of the cafe.

“Cock…need…” Kazuha begs, already opening up his hole with his fingers.

“I know, I know,” you hush him as you slide out of your clothes. “Be a good boy for me.”

Kazuha whimpers, ears flattening. Gosh, he’s adorable in this state. Sometimes Kazuha can be more dominant when he is in his heats but when he’s submissive? He practically acts as if he’s drunk. Well, he is about to be another type of drunk once you stick your cock in him.

As soon as the last article of clothing was removed from your body, you go down on your knees and take the catboy’s head in your mouth. He keens into you, purring as he continues spreading his hole. Words of affirmation spill your lips as you slurp on his leaky cock, your hands massaging his balls and watching as Kazuha chirps in delight. You let go of his tip with a pop, collecting the semen with your hands and smearing it all over your cock and his hole. He helps you, continuing to spread himself by moving his fingers in and out of him while you nibble on his ears.

Once he’s ready, you return to your full height and align your hardened dick to your catboy’s hole. You push in, seeing how easily he takes in your tip.

“Hm…you did a good job at loosening yourself up, huh?” You run your fingers down his silver locks. “Or maybe it’s because you’re so used to taking my dick.”

Kazuha mewls in agreement, pressing his knees to his chest as you rearrange his guts. He calls out your title, a string of pleas leaving his sweet lips as you pepper his pale skin with kisses and marks. A fuzzy tail wraps around your thigh, one that you immediately pull onto. It elicits a high-pitched meow from your catboy, tears of pleasure sprouting out of cloudy hues of scarlet.

"Master, if you keep holding onto that I– hnn! I'll cum soon!"

You hush him, trailing down kisses to his jaw. "Go on then, I give you permission."

Your teeth digging into his neck is the last straw for the poor catboy. Hot white spurs out of his throbbing penis, making a mess of his stomach. He quietly sobs as you coo praises at him, feeling your orgasm reaching you.

"Do you want me to cum insid–"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Kazuha babbles deliriously. "I want Master's semen! I want you to breed me!"

Kazuha's ear twitches as you moan into it, feeling his hole tighten up and squeezing you of all you seed, milking your balls dry. Your body shakes, yet you steel yourself to recover to resume, ramming yourself in and out of him.

"Wait, Master! Don't you need a break?" Kazuha — the considerate cat he is — asks, face twisting in concern.

"Haah, it's okay, Kazu, I can handle– mmgh…this much," you reassure him, grinning when you hear him groan as you pinch his rosy nipples. "I'm here to take care of you, so relay all your desires to me."

[hainethehero]

Steve x Bucky x Clint drabble...

"Why are you breakin' my heart?" Steve whimpers, tears in his ocean blue eyes.

Bucky shakes his head, running fingers through his hair impatiently. "Don't cry, doll. Please don't cry."

Steve swipes at his runny nose hastily, "No! Tell me what I did! Tell me what I did wrong!"

"Steve-"

"I did everything I could to get you back!" Steve wails, "I just got you back-"

"Darlin'-"

The blonde grabs a hold of Bucky's metal wrist and squeezes. "Just tell me what to do, Bucky. Tell me and I'll do it, please- please don't leave me, please-"

Bucky exhales heavily, his eyes stinging. "St- baby, you don't understand. I have to go-"

"Then take me with you," Steve interrupts, eyes wide and so full of hope, it breaks Bucky's own heart.

"Only one of us can go back, sweetheart," he explains gently, as if Steve didn't understand.

"You don't! You don't have to go, Bucky, please!"

Bucky makes a disapproving sound again. It's sickening to Steve's ears.

Steve hears himself crying- bawling, really- and it doesn't even sound like him. He's never heard himself so distraught and broken before. It's like the wailing cry of a dying animal. His throat burns from sobbing, his eyes are sore and blurry. Snot and tears run down his face.

Can Bucky not see just how sad he's making him?

Did Bucky even know that Steve's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest? Like it'd jump out at any second and leave him cold and dead in the wake of Bucky's absence?

"Stevie..."

"Jamie please, please please please please..."

"Please-!"

*

"Steve? Sweetheart, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

Steve's eyes pop open and he's suddenly back in Avengers Tower. His eyes are wet, tear tracks drying down his cheeks. His chest is heaving as if he'd just run a marathon. And his body feels paralyzed in abject fear.

A gentle hand strokes his face and caresses his jaw, petting him softly.

"It's okay," Bucky whispers, "only a dream, darlin."

Steve, still traumatized from his nightmare pushes Bucky away with a petulant growl. He curls up against the headboard, arms wrapped around his bent knees.

Clint, who's sleeping on the other side of Steve, startles awake from the sudden movement, eyes on high alert.

"Whas'at?"

Bucky stops for a few, totally confused at Steve pushing him away. He turns and flicks on the bedside lamp, setting the room in an incandescent glow. Clint winces and turns to put on his hearing aids.

"Steve?"

The blonde is still curled up in a tight ball, trembling from some imaginary cold. Bucky can hear the stifled hiccups and sniffles, a soft whining in the back of his throat. He crawls closer but doesn't touch Steve for fear he'd push away from him again.

"Baby boy, talk to me. What's gotten you so upset?"

Steve shakes his head stubbornly. Then he mutters, "You left me..."

Bucky frowns and shares a confused look with Clint who still looks delirious from being woken up so abruptly. "I'm- I'm right here sweetheart."

"Yeah baby," the archer grunts, voice rough from sleep, "Bucky ain't going nowhere."

Steve shakes his head harder and finally looks at them with a teary glare. His blue eyes are steely and electric as he points an accusatory finger at Bucky.

"Daddy left... said he didn't wanna stay... went back to-" a sob escapes from Steve's mouth and he buries his face in his palms again, whining like a kicked puppy.

"Went back to what baby?"

"Brooklyn... when I was smaller..." Steve mumbles through loud sniffles.

Clint cuts Bucky with a disappointed look as if Bucky could control what Steve dreamed about. Then he leans against the headboard with Steve and wraps the blonde in his arms. Bucky tries not to feel the sting of rejection when Steve willingly accepts Clint's touch.

"Oh come here, sweetpea," he murmurs, giving Steve's temple a smacking kiss that makes him squeak in slight amusement.

Bucky can't help but feel a little bitter at the dream version of himself in Steve's head. Why'd he have to go and ruin things, dammit?

"You know Bucky loves you, right?" Clint asks their boy.

Steve goes suspiciously quiet before nodding twice, face still buried in Clint's bare chest.

"And you know he'd never leave you, right?"

"But-" Steve starts, the feisty little fucker, but Clint gently admonishes his outburst.

"Ah ah, Daddy's talkin'."

Steve bites his lip, eyes big and cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Clint continues, "It was a nightmare, darlin. Scary? Sure. But real? Nah, Bucky's right here with you and me. Look at em."

Steve slowly pulls himself off of Clint's chest to look at Bucky, who's still looking a bit wary but more concerned than anything. He offers Steve a soft, encouraging smile and stretches out his metal hand on the bed. Steve's immediately drawn to the movement, blinking at the metal appendages thoughtfully. Then his brows furrow and his lips quiver- a telltale sign that he's about to burst into tears again.

Bucky almost pulls away but in an instant, he's got a lap full of a sobbing super soldier whose arms and legs wrap tightly around his body like a clingy spider.

"Thought you wanted to leave me for- ...for when I was tiny," he sniffs sadly.

Bucky absolutely melts and squeezes Steve tighter. "Oh baby doll, you're the same punk I loved all those years ago. Wouldn't make sense going back to the past when I've got you right here."

Steve mumbles something in response but it's all garbled and doesn't make sense. Clint chuckles and fondly pets Steve's downy blonde hair.

"Never gonna happen, sweetness. You're stuck with your Daddies forever."

Steve mutters out a quick, "'kay," and nods his head a couple times as if trying to reassure himself. Then he pouts and says, "Love you," in a small voice, pecking Bucky's lips shyly.

"Aw, you're so sweet, baby doll," Bucky praises, which makes Steve blush like crazy. He ducks his head and grumbles into Bucky's chest, sniffing.

Clint grins, then rolls his eyes. "Alright baby boy, let's get you tucked in to bed."

Bucky arranges Steve off his lap and back in his former sleeping space between himself and Clint. The blonde, clad only in soft lacy underwear and fuzzy blue socks snuggles back into Clint's waiting arms, while Bucky presses their chests together. He wraps his arms around Bucky's middle, while Bucky gently guides Steve's head to rest on his ample bicep. Steve's nose brushes the man's stubble, inhaling his woodsy scent and sighing in absolute comfort of being sandwiched by his Daddies.

"Good night baby," Bucky whispers into his hair, while Clint slips a warm hand past the delicate waistband of Steve's lacy underwear. He carefully avoids Steve's little prick and just rubs his belly in slow, comforting motions.

Steve doesn't have any more nightmares that night.

[soupuurr]

𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 - matthew sturniolo

… “not so tough now, are you?”

matt fixed you with a glare, arms bound behind his back as he refused to give you the satisfaction you pried for. he would rather be caught dead than allow you any semblance of power over him, though it was more than evident you were making the boy nervous.

your hand reached around his cock—feeling the low, pulsating buzz of the cold silver ring vibrator snuggled around his base. he tried his best to muffle his pathetic moans while you tugged at his poor prick.

it was mesmerizing, the way his pink tip leaked out beads of pre-cum with every jerk of your hand, you absolutely relished in the way he struggled against your hold.

“you’re so fucking dirty. letting me tie you up like this…” you pushed his plush thighs further apart.

matt whined, fluttering his eyes shut whenever you’d greedily squeeze his base. he felt so timid under your hungry eyes.

you watched his face scrunch up cutely. It was truly adorable how determined he was to resist giving in to you.

“let me cum.” he choked out—head falling limp as he gazed deliriously at the hand working his cock. it didn’t take long for tiny whines and whimpers to tumble past his pink lips, so you released him, letting his cock suspend pitiably in the air.

matt miserably bucked his hips and sobbed, chasing your touch as he came down from the high that was cruelly ripped away from him.

“you’re a bitch.” he sniffled, tears pooling in his eyes as you edged him for the nth time that night.

“and you’re a brat.” you shrugged. satisfaction swelled in your chest while you watched him squirm and grind his eager hips into absolutely nothing.

“at least let me taste you.” he murmured softly, peeking at you from under his lashes. he sat in stunned silence as you shook your head, denying him the privilege to put his hungry tongue on your pussy—he can’t even please you?

instead you began to peel the clothes off of your skin layer by layer and matt’s eyes darted across your body. his pretty mouth ran dry as soon as you pushed your pink panties past your thighs.

“please, need to taste you.” he rolled his hips with a stifled whimper, craving your sweet flavor on his tastebuds.

his eyes trailed your figure rummaging through the bedside drawer, a smirk dancing on your lips as you retrieved a tiny bullet vibrator.

a vibrator? you were going to use a vibrator instead of his mouth??

you sat in front of him, pussy on full display as you placed the vibrator on your clit.

matt’s blue eyes fixated on the way your face face twisted in pleasure, and it drove him insane that he wasn’t the one responsible for it.

he tugged against his restraints once again, wanting nothing more than to fuck his tongue past your folds and have your beautiful thighs wrapped around his head.

“please? i’ll be good—won’t talk back.” he softened his tone. matt didn't care anymore; he was willing to let you win just this once.

you pondered for a moment, removing the vibrator from your pussy and studying his eyes in contemplation before leaning over his constrained body. you push the vibrator against his tip—watching him buck and hiss at the sudden waves of pleasure.

“w-wait! too much, stop it please!” he mewled as you applied more pressure onto his angry tip.

“but i thought you wanted to cum, matt?” you teased, placing a kiss on matt’s forehead while he helplessly babbled beneath you.

thick tears streamed down his pink cheeks once you pulled the vibrator away again.

it was so unfair.

“no! why’d you-“ you cut him off abruptly, kneeling on the bed and grasping clumps of his hair between your fingers as you pressed his head onto your pussy. matt moaned against you, delicate tongue prodding at your enterance.

“look at you, finally putting your tongue to good use.” you pinned his hair back, the sight of his submissive, glossy blue eyes gazing up at you sending a surge of pleasure over your body.

matt’s lips pursed around your clit, sucking the bud gently. his face was fully covered in your slick as he took everything you gave him.

“what happened to all of that attitude now, huh? just a moment ago you were mouthing off and now you’re tied up, pleasing me like a pussy drunk slut.”

matt couldn’t take it anymore, eyes rolling to his skull as white spurts of cum leaked out of his tip at your malicious words. …

𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 ↝ soupuurr

[ererokii]

i formally request that you write monsterfucking with zhongli absolutely fucking the shit out of us #monsterfuckersuniteagain

— god’s servant

warnings: monsterfucking (in a way) degradation, finger humping (yes that’s right) power play, overstimulation, dacryphilia, humiliation, dry humping, overstimulation wc: 1.9k

note: zhongli is enormous in this fyi, so he’s over 10ft tall, please read the warnings carefully and if you are uncomfortable, scroll away and do not leave unnecessary comments// thank you for requesting i had a fun time writing this <3

You’ve grown accustomed to your current lifestyle— the basic definition of sitting still and look pretty for all to see. You didn’t hate it at all. You lived in wealth and luxury, everything was at the tip of your fingers.

Many came far and wide to give reverence to the Almighty and ask for blessings for days and years to come. You’ve started to familiarize the faces that came more than once, yet you never spoke a word to them (not like you wanted to anyway).

Always, you sat in the palm of his hand, his fingers curled up to keep your small body from falling off. Eyes would stare down at you with adoration and a burning passion. Just the feeling of him underneath your legs was enough to get your blood pumping. You were given a name for your appropriate duty— Morax’s Precious Thing.

His elbow is propped against the stone armrest of his chair, knuckles against his chin. His head is cocked to the side faintly, his lips curled up in the smallest of smirks— amber eyes staring down at you. You always felt small against his streaks, figuratively and literally.

Morax stood at 15ft tall, looking over every human in his nation and could practically squish them with the step of his foot. It was easy to say he was very intimidating, able to strike fear in anyone who dared do him wrong.

“Are you too afraid? Is it too big for a small thing like you?” He asks, voice booming overhead as he shifts, looming his hand over and barely rubbing the top of your head with his finger.

“No,” you say confidently but by the way your legs tremble contradicts your statement. He chuckles and taps your side, your body moving with his motion.

“Come on then. Be my good little human and please me.” His voice is like silk to your ears, just him talking was enough to have your thighs pushed together for some friction.

In between your legs was his middle finger. Each digit was about the size of your body, if not bigger.

He stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to start moving. Your small hands grip the sides of his finger to the best of your ability.

Your cheeks heat up, averting your eyes from him in embarrassment. “Come on.” He urges, moving his finger slightly, the ridges bumping against your bare cunt— a delicious shiver going down your back.

Your hips stutter forward, digging your nails into his skin as you start off slow. Huffs and puffs escape your lips as you gather your rhythm, grinding down against his finger. Soft moans reach his ears and he hums in approval. 

“Look at you,” he coos, almost laughing at how desperate you look. You peer up through your lashes, tears forming by the edges of your eyes. “My little human fucking herself on my finger. Does that feel good? Or is it too much?”

“I-It’s great!” you gasp, your clit dragging against him. You mutter things underneath your breath, maintaining eye contact. Morax shifts in his seat, legs spread open in a comfortable position. His hood covers half of his head, the clothing stopping above his navel, exposing his skin to everyone. 

“You look so pathetic,” he says, squinting down at you. “Imagine if everyone found out how much of a whore you were, humping away at my finger like an animal in heat. What do you think they would say?”

You glance down, gaping at his slick covered finger, your juices practically drenching him. Not pleased by your lack of responses, he bends his finger, the knuckle hitting your clit. You cry out, leaning forward as if you were going to hug it. “P-Please!”

“Please what? You’re going so slow. Go faster, you know I won’t wait long.”

Afraid at his threat, you whimper and go faster, the aches in your hips starting to become unbearable. The bumps and ridges of his finger send your eyes rolling into your head, back arching. Your breasts bounce with the fast pace, his eyes locking onto them. They’re so small, yet look so adorable to him. Everything about you was so adorable.

You were his little human and he cherished you no matter what. Yet he used you for his own pleasure. Numerous occasions he would use your body to get him off. His hand would be wrapped around your torso, careful to not hurt you and drag your cunt against his cock. In a matter of seconds you would be cumming, but he still had a lot in him. 

“M-Morax,” you call out to him, biting down on your lower lip. “I can’t do it anymore! Please!” tears cascade down your face as you helplessly jerk your hips against his skin. Your legs tremble, breathing unevenly as drool dribbles down your chin, landing on your thigh. 

Your god doesn’t say anything, only staring down at you. He refuses to move, he wants to see you lose yourself, aching and crying as the feeling is too much. Morax tells you often how pretty you look getting messed up from the smallest of touches, it was truly pathetic.

“You look so helpless,” he says in a loving tone, reaching down and petting the top of your head with his thumb in a mocking way. It makes the pit of your stomach twist in a way you love. He always talked down on you like this, and his words did nothing but turn you on even more.

“Do you need my help, you precious thing?” he asks and you nod quickly. Your jaw drops as a shiver runs down your arms, a burning sensation running over your body. Your hips stutter in place, head hanging back in a silent cry. You tremble, feeling yourself about to give out.

“It seems so,” he mutters, wrapping a finger around your torso, lifting you off of his finger and onto his palm, sitting you down. “And it appears you made a mess on my finger.” He lifts his other hand up, examining the essence that runs down.

You don’t pay mind to his next movements, but hear the rustling of clothes that you’ve drowned out right after. He lifts you up once more, before placing you down on something that makes you gasp.

You tense up, lifting your head and catch his stare. His creme cheeks hold a pastel pink, his mouth parted open and a content sigh rips from his throat. 

The head of his cock snugs in between your open legs, the strain in your muscles adds onto the pleasure.  His finger around your torso tightens slightly, not wanting to crush you nor wanting you to fall. 

“I got you. It seems something as small as you will collapse right now. Isn’t that right?” He smiles and you can’t help but whine at his teasing. You wriggle your hips in his hold, mewling at the sensation already. 

He grunts lowly, letting you move on your own first. You gape up at him, your fingers gripping the plush of your thighs. You felt full and there was nothing instead of you. 

There’s a mutual look of love shared between the two of you, a burning passion igniting inside. He begins to move his hand slowly, dragging your body back and forth on the tip of his cock. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut, letting him take the lead. Your head hangs back, mouth parted for wanton noises to be heard by all. 

Your pussy feels amazing against him. Morax moans quietly, watching the way your slick drips down the base of his cock. His pre-cum sticks to the inside of your thighs, the smell reaching up to your nose that intoxicates you. 

Your body is overly sensitive from your previous orgasm and you were certain you would break in the next few minutes. 

“So gorgeous,” he says, using his thumb and taps gently at your chin, forcing you to stare at him. “You look so heavenly. I could eat you up.”

The sinful noises sound like rich melodies. In a place that was meant to be pure, only used for reverence and praising their Lord, Morax— was instead tainted with your degrading acts. Your moans bounce off of the golden walls of his domain, the sounds circulating and reaching the depths of his abode.

The squelching noises your cunt made as he grinded you down was heavenly, every noise you made, every noise your body made when he had you like this-- open and submissive to him was heaven on earth. 

He remembers the first time he had you like this. Poor thing, you were deathly nervous to even sit on his finger. After some reassurance, you gained the courage to do so. And once you did, you couldn’t get enough, and certainly he couldn’t either. 

Any mere mortal could walk through those gold gates in the front to come worship their God and find him using you, his little human as his personal cocksleeve to please himself. You would have died from embarrassment, but you could care less.

Your breath hitches when the head bumps against your clit, repeating the action. Pleasure skyrockets at the simple gesture, your wails increasing in volume.

One of your hands reaches forward and grabs at nothing, pleading eyes staring up at him. “God please don’t stop!”

You’ve gone delirious at this point. You’re unable to think, the only thing fogging up your mind was the feeling of his throbbing cock against your body, the head forcing your legs wider as he grinds you against him.

Your hand slid up under your silk dress, tweaking your nipple between two fingers, tugging and rolling it. You gasp out, clenching around nothing as you cry out.

As you convulsed on him for the second time, he didn’t show any signs of stopping and in fact, moved you faster to chase his own release.

“Morax,” you sob, placing your small hands on his finger that’s wrapped around you. “I can’t handle it anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he grunts, his hand stuttering in place. Choked breaths and moans get caught in his throat, his eyes squeezing shut.

His lower lip quivers faintly, his hips beginning to grow restless as he thrusts up unintentionally, causing a scream to erupt from you. His cock bumped against you a bit rougher than you had expected, yet it felt amazing. 

His head hangs back against his stone chair, a vein popping in his neck as he fights the urge to let out a noise, his body not moving until you feel something warm shoot past your thigh and into the air. You quickly shut your eyes, flinching when some of the substance lands on your body.

The inside of your legs are covered in slick and his seed. The feeling began to get uncomfortable but you didn’t want to move just yet. The act was overall lewd, but it made you feel excited even after it was done. 

Your body trembles as you slowly come from your high, gasping and staring down at your hands. Filthy, but endearing. You bring a finger to your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you clean it off, humming around it. 

You’re absolutely drenched in his seed— head to toe if you must say. But after doing this for so long, the feeling of it and the smell brought you comfort in some twisted way. It was his way of marking you as his as he would tell you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Morax stares down at you through lidded eyes, a small smile cracking at the corner of his lips. “Looks like you need to be cleaned up.” he says through small pants, adjusting you as you are now seated on the palm of his hand. “We wouldn’t want you to drown either, hm?”

You huff, puffing your cheeks out as you avert your gaze from him, having enough of his teasing due to your height. “It’s not my fault you’re insanely tall and I’m short.”

“It’s all more endearing, my love.”

taglist: @katsuhera @novvabeam @axther @mysticalchocolate @dilucs-claymore @yanfeisrose @mowestruc @tokyosrevenge @jaegerverse @hu-tao-main @midnightangelfox @plumpkie @kaeyashoe @jaywalksalloverme (add yourself to the taglist HERE)

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

what i want | s. todoroki 

➳ tags ;; face-sitting, afab!reader, overstimulation, scent kink (?), smut, mdni 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.5k

➳ a/n ;; saw a tiktok + and read this shiggy drabble by @/saintdabi ‘s  and now this concept wont leave me alone in anyway.  literally wrote this like i was posessed... 

➳ plot ;; midoriya sends a certain link in the groupchat. todorki gets curious and clicks. suddenly he wants to try seomthing. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

“Can we try something?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Not because it’s a weird and kind of vague question (which it is) but because of who’s asking. Todoroki rarely ever brings things up out of the blue. You’re trying to make dinner so you don’t really have a lot of time to think about why. You dry your wet-hands on the front of your apron, stirring the pot. 

You don’t bother to think twice when you reply to him. 

“What do you wanna try?” 

A silence falls. It’s just a beat too long, which isn’t uncommon for him but isn’t what you expect. You glance over your shoulder after salting the water, squinting. Todoroki almost mirrors you, reading something off his phone. He looks up at you after taking one last glance, as if to make sure he got it right. 

“Face-sitting,” 

You almost fall over. 

He says it so nonchalantly, you’re almost sure you’re hearing things. You brace yourself on the counter and turn down the heat almost entirely, trying to ensure your house doesn’t go down in flames. You blink at him owlishly. 

“Sorry.. can you repeat that?” 

He looks confused. He was sure he said it correctly. He blinks a few times, glances at his phone again as he tilts his head to one side. 

“..face-sitting?”  

You think you’ve gone mad but he looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost it. Your skin grows beyond hot underneath your clothes - a vague emotion of arousal rolling through you. With your mouth agape, you decide that there’s no way you could continue with dinner so you turn it off and stare at him. Nervously, you cross your arms over your chest. 

“.. Where did you..?” 

Todoroki, stoic as ever, shrugs. He looks down at his phone and this time, you can hear the constant buzzing. 

“Midoriya sent a link into the chat on accident. I clicked it,” ― he says, and then seemingly decides this needs absolutely no more explaining than that ― “It looked interesting,” 

You stare at him. 

“Were you... watching porn while I made dinner?” 

He nods. You think you might lose your mind at this rate but you press forward anyways, eyes looking down at his pants. He’s as soft as can be, you’d know. 

“You’re not hard..?” 

He nods, again. Looks at you confused like he has some reason to be. 

“I only get hard with you,” 

You inhale a sharp breath. You think this man might kill you some day, but you’d probably let it happen. Shaking your head, you lean against the counter. With a smile of sympathy, you decide to be straightforward with it. 

“..I’m pretty sure I’d crush you baby,” 

Without missing a single beat, he shakes his head. This time, there’s a faint hint of a blush on his face. 

“I don’t care. I.. really want to,” ― he looks up at you with the most curious eyes you’ve ever seen ― “Please?” 

You’re not sure how to feel. The possibility of mishap is enough to make you want to reject him again but he looks so hopeful. The idea of your beloved boyfriend walking around sulking is guilt-inducing enough to make you sigh and give in. He smiles when you nod. 

You walk over towards him, only really planning on giving him a kiss. You’d been out most of the day and were planning on taking a night-shower after dinner. 

“Okay, well - let me shower first and -” 

He shakes his head, almost petulant. Strong arms wrap around your waist as he drags you down to his lap with an urgency he can’t seem to contain. You yelp audibly, hearing soft breaths in your ear. Something twitches to life underneath you as soon as you sit, making your eyes grow wide. 

“Can’t wait that long and..I like it better like this,” 

Your eyes grow wide. The “this” remains vague but you’ve caught onto how Todoroki seems to like you more before you’ve showered than after. Still, it makes your skin hot. You want to argue with him - about to protest and struggle out of his grip but all of a sudden his voice goes raspy. Soft and low against the nape of your neck. 

“Please, my love. I really want to,” 

You swallow the saliva in your mouth, mind blanking at the sound of his voice. It goes right to your core, a pleasant throb in your shorts. You’re still wearing your apron and PJ’s. You agree maybe too easily, weak to him and his desires. 

“Fine but how do you want to...? On the couch..?” Your words come out unusually meek. You’re never such a nervous person there’s something thick in the air. Palpable desire that makes you weak. 

A warmth settles in your skin as he wastes no time, undoing your apron and letting it fall to the floor. Slender, pretty fingers go into the waist band of your shorts and without a second thought, he helps you slide them off your legs. 

It’s almost like an inspection, how you’re sprawled over his thigh. It’s all happening so fast - your mind moves too slow to keep up. His pointer finger drags across your clothed cunt, chin resting over your shoulders. His brow furrows at the wet-spot on them. A whine leaves you in embarrassment that he ignores. 

“You’re wet already.. sorry to make you impatient,” 

The apology is so genuine you’re not sure how to reply. 

“Here.. I’ll lay like this and you can rest your knees on the cushion,” 

You move off of him and stand to see what he means. He gets himself comfortable, head resting on the armrest of the couch. You blink as he gestures to where you should place yourself. When he says sit on his face, he means sit . He means lean forward so your ass is facing him. The realization hits you like a truck. 

Out of obligation, all the furniture in your house is lavish and this couch is no exception. All white and big enough that you could spread out on it without much effort. You know you’ll fit but you hesitate. Todoroki looks at you patiently but you can practically feel how much he wants it. 

With a little help, you manage to get into position. It’s a little humiliating - the feeling of his warm breath fanning your cunt. You’re still just hovering above him, and you squirm around as best you can. So nervous you think you’ll pass out. 

“Are you sure you want to ― aah!,” 

Without a word of warning, Todoroki pulls you down until the full weight of you ends up on his face. Your panties are still on but he doesn’t seem to pay any attention, his tongue lapping at your clit with such fervor you can’t help but moan. The angle from which he eats you hits the spot so perfectly, works you up until your pussy is practically drooling on his face. 

You let out a feverish squeal at the pleasure, still light but overwhelming enough that you’re wiggling away. Every now again between licks, he lets out a deep groan that vibrates against your sex so sweetly. Your stomach churns as your hands splay on his abdomen. 

“Sh-shouto my, fuck - my panties, you’re gonna get them, hmph” 

He lets you up, ever so briefly, just to whisper a hoarse “sorry,” move your panties just to the side before making you plunge right back down onto his tongue. You taste sweet and slight - but it’s better after a long day. So much stronger in his mouth, he can’t enough of it. 

Saliva and slick drip down his chin and cheeks, further fueled by the way you whimper above him. He eats you out very often but it’s different like this - you can’t go anywhere because his arms are secure around your thighs and his tongue keeps slurping so greedily at your swollen clit. He’ll stop just to feel it pulsate before carrying on with incredible enthusiasm. 

And he moans through it like it turns him on more than him fucking you. You’re honestly inclined to believe it might. His hands that rest on your ass, spreading you apart so he can go just that much deeper. Your nerves are being worked, the sheer stimulation is too much for you. He’s overzealous and shameless about it too. 

“You taste so good my love, fuck” 

Hearing him speak to you makes tears well at your eyes. He slides his tongue over your puffy clit over and over until he hits a rhythm. The constant feeling of pleasure sparks again and again and again until an orgasm so steadily builds in you. 

“Shouto, shouto - baby, please! Slow down or I’ll c-cum,” 

He heard you, he must have because if anything he goes that much faster. So fast that you’re practically sobbing his name, drooling and blindsided as the coil in your belly snaps. You cum so hard and so fast, you think you’re going to see your maker. Your toes curl and your walls flutter. A high whine leaves your mouth. 

“Baby, no more - can’t anymore,” 

He stops but only to speak with an almost delirious voice. Deep and possessive as his hands bury into your hips. 

“I’m not done yet” 

You realize a second too late what you’ve just gotten yourself into. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[cyprus-green]

I loathe you, Granger

...

I loathe you, as we kiss in hidden coves and inlets of stone.

I follow you into potions. And, Merlin. I'm disarmed by the apple sweetness of your hair, my amortentia lingering on your skin.

I hate you.

I know you're nothing but filth and dirt. Yet you live without shame, knowing very well how repulsive you should be.

How dare you live so free and leave me chained to your impurities.

I try to make it hurt--whisper lies wrapped in insult, hoping you will share in my contempt. I beg you partake in this burden. I beg you to hurt me back.

When we kiss I pull at your hair and press you against these ancient walls. I spit in your mouth to see your shock and I fuck your face to hear your gagging sobs. Yet you fall to your knees and swallow my shame. Every drop of shame.

I've kissed you and consumed you. I've tasted the ghost of my seed on your tounge and wondered what you do when I walk away. Do you wash out your mouth or do you let the taste of me linger? Are you appalled when you rise from your knees-- when do you begin to feel regret? When does the reality of our perverse connection set in?

I lay awake at night and think about things that I cannot bear to ask. How can something so destructive feel so much like redemption? Why do you taste so much like salvation? I've prayed and prayed to all the gods, to break the ties between us.

But you stay.

And while my traitorous hands betray my mind's resolve, you ruin me again. I become a desperate man.

You arrogant, stubborn, reckless Witch. Why must you persist and pester? Why hold on when I tell you to go? Why must you stand there, brown eyes full of woeful devastation, your jaw set in baffling resolve?

It's not until I tear the ribbon from your hair and trip you in the hall, that I see your courage splinter. That is when you stay away. You hide from me. And I hardly survive the distance. I wallow in my dejection and barely endure a week of respite.

Until one day my shoulder brushes yours and I find your figure among the throng. I see you cling to him. Your smile looks so different in the light. Watch you press your lithe body against him and laugh at his asinine remark. I hate it all, because what you freely give to him shall never belong to me.

So I follow you and pull you back into shadows. But now you try to leave. You fight back when I push against you. Slap me sensless and scratch my arms. My desperation turns delirious, until I tear apart.

I plead for your mercy and the warmth of your touch. I watch you look up at me and all I can see is your disgust. So I fall to my knees before you and offer all I have. The only thing a shameful whore has to give. I offer supplication.

And to my depraved delight your small hands guide me between your legs. You use my mouth, taking all you need, grinding your core against my face. You pull at my hair. You humiliate me in the most delicious way. You try to drown me in your anger and I float away on the sound of your cries. I swallow every drop.

You leave me while I'm still on my knees--but I believe you'll return again. I must.

Sometimes the darkness can be so terrifying, when you're alone.

Granger, I dream of kissing you in the light.

You ruin me. Give me the worst of you knowing it's the best I'll ever have. I hate that you inspire impossible dreams. My hope runs dry.

I loathe that you know the taste of my tears. That you keep safe the blackberry hue of my bruises. The ones that bloom colorful bouquets, smelling oh so much of patricide.

I despise your kindness--your gentle, unguarded gaze.

I loathe what I've done to you. Hate that I taught you shame. That I seared those words into you with same mouth that now leaves you breathless.

And I feel your incredulity. I cannot bear for you to leave me but I hate you for staying. I am lost to reason.

I loathe you.

And you despise me.

You hate that I won't fuck you--take your sweet cunt in all the ways you beg. I refuse to take your virginity and you cry. You presume it's all disgust and superiority.

Granger, don't you see the truth? How can you not know.

I cannot bloody your knickers and take what isn't mine. Not from you. Not because I don't want you, but because it would only bring us pain. I don't want your sweetest gift to be another reason for your tears. I couldn't bear to watch you cry in regret. I couldn't bear to see you walk away. I could never watch you belong to another--not after being inside you. Not after I've filled you up with all of me.

I love you Granger--and I hate it.

I know you'll never love me back.

I loathe you for being the one thing in the entire world I want, that I cannot have. I am a coward and continue to cling to this perverse romance. Too afraid to let you go. Too selfish to walk away.

Sometimes I think I might be a monster.

Sometimes it feels like you're the only reason I'm still alive.

I loath you. Endlessly.

I love you. So terribly much.

[falling-pages]

A hug and chicken noodle soup: Takashi x Reader

Feel better @ohshcscenerios <3

-

Maybe love was as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Takashi Morinozuka x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

-

Takashi was not used to being disobeyed.

The national martial arts champion, head of his own security firm, and father of three was used to holding power in his massive hands, for the room to fall silent at his command. He made the decisions, though with valid input from others, but he was the top dog, the one on whose authority they relied. Respect emanated from his veins, care and courage were his pedestal. When he gave an order, it was for the greater good of his company, or the safety of those he loved.

So when he returned home to find you washing the dishes, he was absolutely livid.

Not at your disobedience, per se. He was used to your sass, your jokes, your spitfire ways. Fourteen years of marriage would do that to a person, especially one as easygoing as him. But at your abject defiance, going against his advice for your own good--did you not trust him?

“What are you doing?”

You dropped the cup you were washing, the water splashing against your apron and the wall in retaliation. Soap bubbles clung to your arms, and with your deer-in-headlights stare, one would have thought he had just caught you stealing the Hope Diamond rather than just a simple chore.

“Takashi, I…” you sputter, wiping strands of hair away from your face. They had escaped from the bundle atop your head and creased your neck and forehead, though sticking with sweat or water he couldn’t be sure. If it were sweat, so help him, he was going to tie you down to the bed himself.

He left the shadows of the threshold and walked noiselessly towards you, groceries weighing heavily in his hands. You dare not move, pinned to the spot by his steely gaze. Your husband was a quiet man, not often prone to outbursts of emotions despite a wildly passionate heart. But like a predator towards prey, he came closer, until you saw the disappointment lining his brow.

Disappointment was always worse than anger.

But when he approached you, so close you could feel the energy radiating off his skin, so close but not touching, all that was left in his eyes was concern, a worried quirk on his lips that left knots in your stomach. Kindness framed him as he set down the groceries, took a towel, and wiped down your arms, leaving them soft and dry.

“I thought I told you to get some rest, love,” he whispered.

You swallowed, wincing at the ache in your throat. “I tried, I really did, but this was the only time I could get some chores done,” you whined. “The kids are with your parents this weekend, and it’s finally quiet and I can do stuff without worrying about watching them--”

“My parents took the children because you’re sick,” he responded, voice measured and even. His tone was stark, hands lingering on your wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but enough to remind you of his strength. “You need to rest. I told you I would do the dishes once I got back.”

“But I--”

“Darling.”

His eyes flickered with hurt, and though he was never a man prone to begging, he would do anything to stop you hurting. Every weak inhale you took he felt in his own lungs, trapped and weak and congested. With the raging fever you were sporting this morning, it was a wonder you were even standing right now.

With a sigh, you let the dish fall into the puddle and stepped off your footstool--everything in this house was freakishly tall to accommodate his height--as he untied your apron, hanging it on the peg behind you. While his hands wandered around your waist, enjoying how you felt in his embrace, he bent to press a kiss behind your ear.

“I hate it when you’re hurting,” he murmured.

His warm voice broke through the gauze wrapping around your brain, and you sighed, relaxing against his chest. So warm, the only stable thing in your swimming vision.

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” you said.

“Yes there is.” He scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and smashed his mouth against your neck, kissing and nuzzling your sweaty skin. “Go to bed, and I’ll make you some soup.”

Despite your squeals, broken and congested before they left your mouth, hiccupped and weak, you didn’t push him away, finally letting him baby you into bed. He walked seamlessly to your bedroom and pulled back the covers with you still clinging to his neck. As he lowered you down, you could have cried at how soft the sheets felt, cool silk against your sore muscles, warmth immediately drawing you into sleep. He layered the blankets on top of you before walking to the other side of the bed, climbing in and drawing the sheets around him before spooning you back against his chest.

His arms were rapture in and of themselves, an escape from your burning head and weak lungs, so tight and strong that you knew he would keep you safe from any sickness trying to harm you. His gentle breaths against your ear calmed your heart, tickling that part of your brain that sparked with love. Even as his lips traveled across your cheek you could barely find the energy to scold him.

“Taka,” you whined, as seriously as your hoarse voice would let you. “Stop...you’ll get sick…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, smooth and comforting like chocolate or rain. Another kiss to your temple, slicking down to the underside of your jaw. “My body has been through worse.”

Though that much was true, it still irritated you. How could he reprimand you for disobeying him and then not even listen when you do the same?

“‘S not the same,” you mumble. “Being shot is a different kind of pain, I’d imagine.”

Takashi chuckled against your neck. Your mind traced over the diagram of his body, the scars stretching across his chest and neck, dyeing his hands and striping through his legs. His line of work was dangerous, full of deceit and corruption, but you knew he’d never have it any other way. “You’re right, my love. A bullet hurts like hell.” He wrapped you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you welcomed the loving suffocation. “But I’d take them all over again if it meant you and our little ones were safe.”

Grisly and gruesome though his words were, they comforted you, lulled you into the security that he worked so hard to provide. Though you prayed it would never come to it, you knew he would lay down his life in a second to ensure yours or your children’s happiness. He even showed his love in less extreme ways--for example, forcing you to rest, holding you as you slept, even at the risk of his own health.

Over and over again you were amazed at the selfless love of the man you married.

Before you could even stop it, the tears were falling from your eyes, stinging the hot skin of your cheeks. Your heart felt full to bursting, and its hammering through your chest didn’t help at all. The world felt full of sunlight yet you clinched your eyes shut to keep in the tears, but they didn’t fool him.

Takashi felt you shake and quickly turned you over onto your back, laying you beneath him as he hovered above, one hand wiping your tears as the other held fast to your waist. “Look at me,” he whispered, the urgency in his voice making your eyes pop open. He stroked your cheek, running his finger along your nose, cooing and shushing until your gaze met his. And as soon as you saw that beautiful smile split his tan face, you knew everything would be okay.

“There she is,” he whispered, tenderly stroking beneath your eye. “Does it hurt that badly?”

“No,” you whispered. “It’s not the fever. It’s the feeling of being loved so terribly.”

Never a man of words, he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love you so, so much.” A dry sob creases out your throat. “I’m so glad I married you, and I’m so glad you’re the father of my kids, and I’m so glad I not only know, but get to love such a wonderful man for the rest of my life.”

He chuckled at your delirious confession, words he had all heard before but sounded more tender in the context of your sickness. Such tenderness in your voice soothed the aches and quells of his body, the wounds he had sustained inside and out during his life, until all that was left was you with a rag and antiseptic and a bandage. He adored you so deeply that though he wanted to hear you say more, it was imperative that you rest.

“I’m so blessed to have you by my side. I love you,” he whispered, giving you a gentle kiss. He frowned at how hot your lips were and resigned himself for the afternoon. “Go to sleep, beloved. When you wake, I’ll make you soup.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, the crying finally tuckering you out. Pliantly, you rolled back over onto your side, and he laid back behind you, guiding your head to rest against his bicep and laying his other arm over your waist. As you drifted back off to sleep, you could only think of one thing.

Love really could be as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Kofi

[sor-vette]

Chapter Five | Monsters

At the turn of a new leaf, you find yourself dancing along the knife’s edge. To keep yourself from falling over, you must ask three questions: what do they have, what do they hold dear and how far will they go to make you stay with them?

▶ wc: 2.5k

▶ warnings: illness, violence against women, possessive behaviour

▶ this series’ masterlist

▶ other works

It's not simply hot. It is the very scorch of hell. Vaguely, around you, there are voices. Truly beautiful voices.

"Like angels," you think, delirious. But they cause you pain. And you whimper again. These beings keep touching you, and it hurts so true and raw, as though they were melting coals into your skin.

"Jungkook, I said keep away from her," snarls a stern voice, but in a way, it's gentle and deep, like a running river or a sprawling forest. You only wish it'd bring some relief to your overheated body.

"But, I just - just wanted to put a compress," the second voice cries. It's gentle and full of youth.

"Baby, you're just causing her more pain. Let go."

If you thought the first one was deep... This was one for oceans, dark alleys and drying paint filled with grief. The second voice begins to weep harder and the being leaves, slamming the door behind.

"Stupid," another voice whispers. You can't help but scream - it's brimstone to your hellfire. The raspy cadence gnaws at your bones and its owner tugs itself deeper into the corner.

These beings keep feeding you something. It never stays down. You just want them to stop, but a small part of you still feels grateful for the company.

They sat in frozen silence broken only briefly by Jungkook's cries. A scream tore through the closed doors. Taehyung tried to breathe. Then he began to cry too. His breath came up in choked up sobs and he thought there must not be any oxygen left on Earth. Gasp as he might there was nothing.

"She'll be fine, Joon will fix this, she'll be fine," Jin muttered, hugging both Taehyung's and Jungkook's shoulders, but he's interrupted by another drawn-out wail, along with desperate pleas to make the pain stop. Jin's hands shook as he tried to say something, anything, but he couldn’t find the strength to fulfil the role of comfort right now.

"I can't - I can't be here. I'm sorry, I can't bear this..." Yoongi spluttered, dashing off blindly. Jungkook’s fists bunched up into Jin’s sleeve as he watched Yoongi's distressed figure fleeing into nowhere with Jimin behind him. Hoseok sat completely still in the corner, not blinking, not moving, gazing at one spot in the wall - a face without expression. Body without soul. His soul was screaming and it was all his fault.

The evening was a blur. He'd been waiting for you at the door, cake in hand. And it was fine. He didn't know exactly why you smelled so foul, but it could be anything. People meddled in various sorts of affairs in this world, and you could have just innocently passed by some quack trying to connect to the afterlife or some other nonsense. And so he let it go, retiring to the kitchen. He had, in all honesty, meant to cut the cake, eat it with you and leave. But then that small, slimy thought reared its unsightly head.

Hoseok was no stranger to nightmares. Dreams of his family dying, dreams of decay, dreams of transformation. Visions of his life's grief and regret replayed underneath a peculiar lens. They were fleeting. He had learnt to deal with them already long ago. It was only that one nightmare that persisted year after year. The sight of them all dead, ripped apart, torn, gone. Gone. Even pondering about it for a second made his stomach plunge into an unknown depth. Sometimes he'd wake up and just let himself cling to whoever was the closest, reassuring himself breath after breath that they were here. They were all still here, together, and if they stayed that way, everything would be fine. Such was the essence of his hopeful existence.

And then they met you. And you were not there when he woke up. Sometimes he would sneak out to your apartment, just to sit in hiding and listen to the steady routine of your morning, hammering into his head that you were safe. As you had been the day before and as you will be the day after tomorrow. But the feeling never quite gave way. Had Jungkook not been dying when they met? Had Jimin not been sick? Anything could happen, anything. And as he was thinking then, his teeth found his finger and bit harshly on it. Mesmerized, he watched his own hand soak the white frosting with blood, changing them crimson. Hoseok had perhaps half a mind to register all that he was doing. However, he was convinced it wouldn't do any harm. He was just trying to protect you.

Which led them here. One minute you were okay. He'd kissed you, and you looked so delicate, treading on the verge of finally blossoming into the feelings that they all knew were firmly buried underneath. He had rested his lips onto your neck and after time well spent hungering and yearning, he thought how loved he would make you feel. How he would collapse into you and you would do the same, and everything would be fine, at last. However, that minute passed and you began convulsing on the floor.

Five days had passed since then. It was only when you began to vomit up shards of black jade alongside Angelica root that Namjoon gathered what was going on. Some aged, unusual protection potion was working its way through the bloodstream. Hence why the smell had hurt him. Perhaps it could be argued that whoever was behind this had meant well. Had meant to protect you from them, but as Hoseok unbeknownst to everyone mixed the potion with his blood, it ultimately created the opposite effect.

Now your body was at a crossroads - trying to repel something that was a part of it. The two substances had formed something akin to nuclear fallout in your system. They had already exhausted themselves in an attempt to reign in your fever. Unsuccessfully, mind you, as every touch, every linger, even something so small as the sound of their voice caused you measureless pain - the potion's fine work.

Namjoon softly closed the doors behind him, careful as to not make too much noise. He exchanged quick glances with Bo - Young, who nodded mutely and entered the room with a mountain of wet towels.

He could barely walk. He hadn't closed his eyes for a minute during these last five days. Namjoon took in the state of the room - the unfurling chaos. His precious books now laid haphazardly across various surfaces, open and torn of their contents - to no help. The antiquated cabinet in the corner of the room was in shreds - a remnant of Jimin's rage during the first day. Only four of them were present - Jin and Jungkook, the latter of which was continuously shaking, clinging to the eldest. Taehyung, who sat with a grave expression, hugging his knees and Hobi.

Namjoon's heart particularly stung seeing Hoseok. He was still in the same place where he sat down five days ago, eyes dead to the world.

"Is she - How?" Jin asked, voice breaking. It was clear he had been trying to control his tears.

"There's nothing else I can do."

Taehyung hid his face entirely, and Jin looked like he was personally thrust off a cliff edge. The worst had occurred. It was all now a game of chance - both toxins would naturally cancel each other out after a while, but at this point, you might not survive that sort of strain.

All it takes is one more seizure, and her heart will give out, Namjoon thought, breath catching in his throat. He was now faced with a question he never wanted to see or hear.

What would they do if you would just die?

"Yoongi, stop, it's no use!" Jimin called out, slightly panting. They were far away from the house now, running into the small hiking forest. When Jimin had finally caught up to Yoongi -

"He's never been fast like this," he muttered to himself.

- there was a sudden flash that swamped the forest in a bright orange glow. The tree was burning. An old oak that Jungkook was fond of climbing and Joon liked to collect acorns from. Yoongi's back was turned, his silhouette - a great, black shadow in front of a roaring flame. Even Jimin had to shudder at the sight. With a sigh, he outstretched his fingers and snapped. The fire died out, collapsing in on itself and rolling large waves of heat in the dark, starless night.

"There's enough wildfires as it is," Jimin said, voice barely above a whisper.

"What do you suggest we do?" asked Yoongi slowly, in a sharp hiss, every word spewed like poison.

"We should go back there. Be with her. This might be -" Jimin choked on his train of thought, and Yoongi turned, eyes narrowed. He was visibly shaking.

"Don't say it, you bastard! Don't even dare to say those words!"

Jimin flinched at his tone.

"Don't yell at him. He's not at fault," interrupted a faint voice on the other side of the oak.

"I - I left you at the house," Jimin mumbled in bewilderment. It was Jungkook, but he was wearing completely different clothes, and his face was considerably gaunter.

"And I am technically there, yes," he answered cryptically, leaning against the cindering tree.

"I told you to stop doing that! It freaks me out!"

"Did you go somewhere?" Yoongi asked, observing the youngest's appearance.

There was an air about him - of rage and chase and revenge, and Yoongi found himself savouring the taste.

"Well, who remembers Y/N's friend, sweet Jane?" His tone was utterly cold, mocking even.

Jimin thought back. Maybe he recalled a fleeting, fidgety figure that bumbled to them that Y/N was not here and she didn't know her whereabouts.

"Well, the last thing Y/N did that day was visiting that friend."

"You think her friend, this Jane, would poison Y/N? What for?"

"Ahh, dear Jane, had a falling out at work, and she apparently contacted some of her friends for work opportunities."

"Would you cut the theatrics?!" Yoongi barked. Either they ripped someone else, or he'd do it to himself, there was no way around it.

"And her friends just so happen to work in "Divine Emporium" chain. "Fortune-telling and Otherworldly advice," to be exact."

Ah, Jimin thought.

"Well, I spoke with the owner, and, in time, he was very willing to tell where this Jane lived," Jungkook examined his nails as he was talking. They were covered in dark patches along with the random splatter stains on his shirt.

"So, let's go!"

"I'm all for it," Yoongi hissed, pulling his jacket closer around. Jimin was the only one who lingered.

"Guys, this is stupid..."

"They hurt her, Jimin, do you understand? Our girl is now screaming because of some fucking lowlife bastards," Yoongi's words were flying out at such speed they verged on turning into nonsense.

"Are you just gonna stand there and let people kill her?"

Jimin shook his head solemnly. No, he would not.

"Jiminie, don't like it? Go back," Jungkook yelled over his shoulder, and after throwing a glare, Jimin traipsed along.

They kicked down the door with little ceremony. The waft was overpowering but ultimately useless. Yoongi snarled a short laugh; it had a cruel undertone. Incense blend to ward off evil. How cute.

The apartment was a mess, its contents - already thrown around in disorder before they got around to trashing it. The window was open, and through it came the sound of speedy footsteps.

"Hey, Jane, where are you running off to?" Jungkook called out tauntingly, leaning out the window. Yoongi felt himself blooming in a deranged smile. Jimin at the back continuously rolled his eyes but was just as quick to catch up.

Jane's laboured breaths echoed throughout the small side street. Her gait was uneven and stumbling as she cried whilst fleeing.

"Fucking pathetic," Yoongi growled.

They cornered her underneath a bridge pass. Dark and deserted. How very tragic for Jane. Jungkook was the first to catch up to her, at first tripping her to the ground then with no hesitation hurling her against the concrete pillar. There was a solid crack when her skull made an impact.

She only wept and wheezed fearfully. Yoongi caught her by the throat and pulled her face so close to his own that their noses touched. She stopped breathing altogether, and in her eyes, Yoongi saw the horrible reflection of his own demented expression. Maybe for a second, he felt awful, but all it took was a single memory of your tortured cries, begging for salvation, and all his would-be mercy disappeared. Yoongi squeezed his fingers tighter, half wondering if he could just pop her head off the shoulders. Probably.

"You pathetic worm, why are you wriggling? How dare you betray her? How dare you hurt her?!" He whispered. She clawed at his hands, legs dangling in the air.

"What do you think, Jimin? Skin her or tear her limbs off?" Jungkook pondered, in an exaggerated, grimly comical expression of a thinking gesture.

"I would not...I would never...hurt Y/N," Jane wheezed, desperately gasping for air.

"But you wanted to keep her from us," Jungkook hissed.

"Please...please...she's done nothing wrong... please whatever you want with her... she's done nothing to deserve it."

Suddenly, Yoongi's hands were twisted against his back, and Jane fell free. Jimin was looking down on her with an inscrutable expression. She once again mauled at her neck, letting out long frenzied cries.

"She is ours. Do you understand?" He asked with one disinterested arched eyebrow as if they were discussing whether doors were push or pull. Yoongi groaned and trashed around, but Jimin's hold was immovable.

"Tell everyone and all you know that from this day on - she is one of us." Jane crawled closer. Perhaps, in some lowly sign of gratitude for sparing her life, but Jimin kicked at her grasping hands.

"I'm not doing this for you," he scoffed. "I'm only doing this for Y/N. Your death would make her unhappy."

He tugged harshly at both Yoongi's and Jungkook's collars, dragging them away. In his mind, they were sparing the time in the entirely wrong place. Still, when they were a short distance away, he turned around. Jane was on her knees, swaying back and forth. Presumably traumatized out of her mind.

"And if the unimaginable occurs, and Y/N does not survive... Jane, I will not only not hold them back, I personally will make sure that every single one of your kind, everyone who gave you so much as a smile, will die knowing the taste of their family's intestines."

Their teeth are bared, and in the pale moonlight, the monsters look nothing more than bloodthirsty hounds cleaving at her skin.

"Jane," you scream, "Jane!"

You try to beg them to stop, for reasons unknown, you feel like these monsters would listen to you, but they don't. They mercilessly rip her apart, ignoring your pleas and barking harsh laughs underneath the dark dome.

"Won't you shut up? It's fine, everyone's fine," a voice next to your ear tiredly sighs. It's not like the voices before, and when you look at the figure, it doesn't glow like the sun. The figure bites you. On the shoulder, but against the backdrop of the ceaseless pain, it is little more than a bug bite.

"You have to get better. You can't die right now. We all will die with you," the voice whispers, biting you again.

previous ↔ next

Trivia:

- Angelica Root (also known as Holy Ghost Root or Archangel Root) is believed to be a potent guardian and healer, that also provides strength to women

- Black jade is considered an etheric defender and protection stone. It is known to attract potent energy guards for the body also for mind and heart

- In this story, Jin often feels useless among the rest of them, so he shoulders this role of always being the most comforting and the most assured of the group

- Jungkook has what you would call slight problems with managing anger. He switches into a red-hued tunnel vision if someone hurts his loved ones. Yoongi is the same.

Tag list:

@meowsimpson @singukieee @ilsan-seoul @ot7nem @littlrmills14-blog @themasterbob @ithtefani @mayla548

Bet you didn't see this coming :D Anyways, plot is plot and so we boldly advance forward in all its pain and suffering. Please, keep bouncing ideas about what could happen next, your impressions or just come yell at me. I appreciate everything.

Happy reading!

[princessozera]

Coming back full circle (GN MC)

A/N: Finally got around to editing it for a GN/Self insert MC. extension of Memory Lapse; what does MC do after accidentally coming back to their original timeline? The set up is just repeating the bonus section.

Warnings: suicidal ideation, throw up, blood, talking about death, injury, indirect suicide attempt

GN!MC (they/them, 3rd ppov)

Word count: 3k

It was great to be back in the Devildom, the brothers at least knew why their memories didn’t match up and everyone was past it at this point. They invariably cherished them; MC existed here and now and that’s what mattered to them.

MC was excited to go to the seasonal carnival with Mammon; they made a mental note to thank Solomon for bringing them back as they made their way to Mammon’s room. MC stood outside his door and shot him a quick text before knocking on the door 3 times and pulling it open.

Stepping right into Barbato’s room.

MC freezes, the relatively labyrinth-esque room, draped in vines and filled with cold night air so vastly different from the sleek silver, gold, and black room they expected to see. In their confusion they didn't notice the noise next to them, and was tackled to the ground, too stunned to protest.

"MC!”

“MC! Where have you been!? Don’t just go wandering off like that! We were starting to get worried.”

“Did you convince Belphegor to-”

“I can’t believe you were gone for 8 hours!”

“ Mammon was getting ready to seduce Barbatos to get you back, ROTFLOL. Can you believe it? He's so arrogant.”

The pressure on their chest, while suffocating, couldn’t compare to the blood pounding in their head, almost immediately recognizing what happened. MC skin began to itch and it was suddenly way too warm in the room. They began to squirm under the weight, whining and groaning, running their nails against any of the exposed skin they could reach.

"Hey, are you okay? Guys get off! MC can’t breathe!”

MC couldn’t even tell the difference as the brothers scrambled to get off them. One of the brothers reached out to pull MC up, but instead they grabbed the arm and pulled him down, using the momentum to jump up and get a running start out the door that they opened by slamming their full weight against it.

“MC!” They heard someone scream their name, but no one followed as they ran to the nearest bathroom, bumping into every corner on the way there. MC slammed the door shut behind them, barley having enough time to lift the toilet seat up before their last meal made a reappearance. Their hands were colder than the tile floor, and they although they started to shake, the continued to vomit, even after it started to taste like blood.

MC continued to throw up, trying not to choke on the breaths in between, and when there was nothing left to throw up, sat there dry heaving for another minute. Their hands shook as they tried to wipe away the sweat and tears. MC tried to catch their breath, but the smell was so pungent it threatened a second wave of dry heaving. When they could finally pull themselves away from the toilet, MC staggered over to the sink and washed off their hands and mouth before trying to scrub some of the vomit out of their clothes.

“I can’t- I can’t be here,” MC sobs quietly. “I have a date with Mammon, we’re going to the fair. I told Levi I’d play galaxy wars reimaged with him. I promised Beel to make cheeseburgers tonight-” The water was steaming, but MC still couldn’t feel their hands as they rubbed them bloody and raw, trying to wash away their mistake.

3 knocks.

Had they really never knocked on Mammon’s door 3 times before now?

MC looked up and caught sight of their reflection; they couldn't help but give something between a snort and hysterical, delirious laugh. They looked haggard and felt disgusting- exactly like the night they went to bed after Belphegor killed them. Ironic really, considering this was basically the same night.

Just like that night, MC cleaned their face with scalding water and held their breath until the crying-hiccups stopped. Crying hadn't helped then and it wouldn't help now. MC stared at their reflection and watched the horror dawn on their face as the reality of it all sunk in.

Belphegor still wanted to kill them.

MC no longer had his or Lucifer's pact.

MC had never finished the first exchange year, and at best was on so-so friendly terms with the brothers.

MC was sent right back to the most hellish night of their lives and was expected to relive it all again.

MC doesn't know how long they stand there, looking at their own reflection, but a plan began to lay itself out in their head. While Lilith might still be around, there was no second body to run to this time, but MC was determined to not let their year mending the brothers' relationship go to waste. They just didn't necessarily have to be around to see it.

MC squared their shoulders and when their steps no longer shook, made their way back to Barbatos' room. Levi, Mammon, Beel, Asmo, and Satan all lingered around anxiously, and their relief on seeing MC again was palpable. They all called out to MC, reaching for their hands, to touch their face, shoulders, but MC pushed past all of them, heading straight to Barbatos who had been standing politely behind the brothers. MC stares him down, and for a second could swear he looked remorseful.

"Barbatos. When am I?" Behind them, the brothers exchanged a confused look, but Barbatos smiled, knowing exactly what they were asking.

"Whatever do you mean MC? You're still here, it's not even midnight yet."

MC must have imagined the remorse because his smile felt cruel and condescending. They felt their throat tighten up again, but they'd take death before crying in front of someone taunting them. MC turned to look at the brothers with a renewed, if fake, confidence.

"Let's have a a talk with Di- LORD Diavolo."

MC leads them all through the palace hallways and walks into the throne room without doubt or hesitation. Diavolo and Lucifer were clearly in the middle of a heated talk, anger coloring the edge of their words, but both turned to acknowledge their new audience.

"Ah, MC! Welcome back, we're glad to see you again!" Lord Diavolo was clearly speaking for himself, because Lucifer looked like he was trying to kill MC with his glare alone.

"Lord Diavolo, I think I have a solution for all of this."

After some convincing, Lord Diavolo summons Belphegor to the throne room and leaves the brothers and MC to talk alone. Done with the bullshit formalities, cloak and dagger, MC demands Lucifer tell the brothers about what happened to Lilith before telling them that they are Lilith's descendant.

MC hates the way they look at them now, with hints of admiration and unearned love. Satan at least, only seemed curious as he didn't have any direct memories with Lilith. MC didn't lie to themselves, they knew Belphegor still held them in contempt, so after giving them a minute to gather themselves, MC brought Lord Diavolo back into the throne room and gave him a proposition he couldn't refuse.

If Belphegor could go 24 hours without killing MC, he would be giving the exchange program his begrudging seal of approval- at the very least promising not to threaten or kill any future exchange students. If Belphegor killed MC before the 24 hours were up, Lord Diavolo would kill Belphegor. However, should Belphegor decide to kill MC after the first 24 hours, he will face no reprimands from Lord Diavolo as he would still be agreeing to the other terms of not threatening future students. While Lord Diavolo could just force Belphegor into a pact and into submission, that would earn him the hatred of Beelzebub and possibly Lucifer and the other brothers. By having Belphegor agree, even if reluctantly, and taking this choice directly into his hands, any fault would lie on him and the demon lords would still be loyal to him.

There was a bit of murmuring and upset shuffling between the brothers. After all, "Belphie would never kill MC. We haven't so why would he? Did MC really think so little of the youngest brother?" Beel was obviously the most upset with MC's implied accusation, but also sad that they seemed to have disdain for his twin without knowing him.

Lord Diavolo and Belphegor agree to the terms set by MC and Barbatos tracks down a spell to keep tack of MC's well being. Lord Diavolo finishes the incantation and a thick black line appears on their wrists. MC stares at it, and after a few seconds it moves in a sharp spike around their wrist- marking their heartbeat. Before they could speak, the grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime.

"Midnight. Perfect. Let's see if I see you all on Monday"

—————————-

Barbatos releases Belphegor from his chains and the farewells are kept brief. The brothers and MC walk back to the house in lamentation in silence, ignoring all of the stares and pointing at the mysterious reappearance of the 7th demon lord.

MC doesn't miss how Mammon and Levi form a physical wall between them and Belphegor- even if they didn't their brother would kill MC, they weren't taking any chances.

Apparently none of them were taking that risk because even though it was 1 am when they made it back, no one went to bed. Lucifer took to his study with a bottle in hand. Satan followed Beel and Belphegor into the library, and even Asmo decided to sacrifice his beauty sleep, claiming that he needed to stay up for a beauty palette pre-order. Mammon and Levi haul MC into Levi's room, they don't miss how Levi makes sure to double lock it. So no one slept that night or ate their meals together that day, a first in all the months that MC's been in the Devildom. Seemingly normal texts where sent out every half hour on the dot to the H.o.L group chat, but they didn't know MC could see the private chats- it was all code to keep tabs on them and Belphegor's whereabouts.

But, even demons need to sleep, and by dinner time no one could speak in anything louder than a mumble. Even with the nap rotation and coffee station set up, everyone was actively having to fight their sleepiness. Mammon whined and complained until MC let him come to their room, muttering something about a movie marathon they'd promised him. He doesn't notice the icy glare MC and Belphegor share before they're escorted out of the opposite ends of the dining room.

MC agrees to the movie marathon, but only if they can make some tea first. Mammon sets up the movie and in his exhaustion doesn't notice how sweet his tea was, the amber slumber syrup pooled at the bottom. He's in deep sleep by 10:30pm, not even stirring as MC pulls him up to their bed, tucking him in one last time before starting their final preparations.

MC checks their phone once they get out of the shower- 11:30 pm. They hurry to get changed, drinking some water and brushing their teeth and hair before heading to the window. They swing it open but hesitate for a minute before going back to Mammon's side. They feel a twinge of guilt seeing him sleep so peacefully because of the drugs. They brush his hair back and cradle his face, admiring it one last time. "I'm sorry first man. Please don't be mad with me." With these parting words, MC jumps out the window and hurry along the moonlit path, ignoring the shadow that trailed them.

--------------

"Could you stop with that stupid ass scare tactic you're trying to pull? I know you followed me here Belphegor!" MC finally yells into the shadows once they reach the outskirts of the clearing. They don't turn back to see Belphegor emerge from the woods, instead heading straight for the lake in the center of the clearing. They sit down and turn back to see Belphegor stalk towards them, already in his demon form.

"You're perceptive for a human."

"UGH. You always thought I was so fucking stupid. 'I'm A hUmAn!!! ThEy TrApPeD mE!!!' Motherfucker, you do know your portraits are lining the staircase and like every other hallway right? What, you think I wouldn't know because you were in your demon form in those images? Give me a break, you're not Clark Kent you musty bitch." MC could hear him growl and start to feel the air grow heavy with his anger, but knew that Belphegor wouldn't kill them this close to the end. However, that didn't stop Belphegor from sitting just out of arms reach and whipping their leg and thigh with this tail. MC dug their hand into the grass, they'd never give this Belphegor the satisfaction of hearing them scream.

"Whatever... By the way, thank you Belphegor. For agreeing to the conditions I mean. I'd really hate to see this program end so soon." MC bites their cheek as he gives them a particularly nasty lashing.

"Aren't humans supposed to be more self serving than this? Where's your survival instinct MC." That tone. The same as when he asked for a hug. "How did you even know I intended to kill you. I've never threatened you once."

"I'm tired," MC lets the stress of the last year and a half weigh on their voice. There was no more need to pretend to be okay, no one to watch their wording around. No more need to lie. As much as they loved this program, it had grown to burden their shoulders. "I've done this before Belphegor, and that was a fucking mess." MC looks around and grabs a sharp stone, slicing their palm open. Belphegor watches as MC lets the blood pool in their hand and then turn white before dropping their hand into the lake. MC swirls their hand around and from the milky water, images began to emerge. MC's memories rippled across the surface of the lake, every moment they've been lingering on since they settled on this suicidal deal.

“What is this?”

"I didn't waste my year in the other dimension. I've been learning magic and I've been trying to perfect this spell because I missed your brothers. At least in the beginning." MC stares into the depths of the water before leaning over and pulling the right memory forward. "I told you, I've done this before."

They watch in silence as the other Belphegor kills MC, the imagine turning a blinding white before shifting to MC's point of view as they run down the stairs to see Mammon cradling their broken body.

"Not to make it sound like a challenge, but there isn't much left you can do to me that compares to seeing my own dead dead body." MC lets the memory fade back into the darkness and watches happier memories take its place. Belphegor stays quiet as a few more memories ripple past- a night lantern fair festival, a beach trip. Diavolo's birthday party and his other self giving MC his pact.

"Why did you come to this lake?"

"I wanted to see the stars one more time. In the human world, there is so much pollution that entire cities have to be shut down to see them. Even in the forest, they don't shine as brightly as they do here. It's also why I decided on the 24 hour deal- it would be easier for you to put your brothers to sleep if they were tired from guarding me all day. Now, even if any of them broke through your spell, they can't reach us in time to stop you. I would have waited closer to midnight to leave, but I really wanted to see the stars for as long as possible." MC lays down to appreciate the stars but then pats their sides, looking for something. "Oh, I need to give you this first."

“Your DDD?” Belphegor turns it in his hands and unlocks the phone, seeing it open straight to the notes application.

"I wrote down all the human recipes I promised to make Beel. If he ever has a craving he can't satisfy, try making him one of these recipes. He'll forgive you faster than the others, since he's missed you the most. The others will be a little mad, but they'll get over it soon enough." MC starts to count off on their fingers, trying to remember the earlier months in the other dimension.

“For Asmo, let him paint your nails and mess with your hair for a while, and ask him to go to Majolish with you. You should form an 'anti-Lucifer club’ with Satan and try to prank Lucifer to get closer with them both. There’s also a new VR game coming out soon, Levi is going to oversleep and miss the release, but if you can get a copy he’ll let you play with him. For Mammon-”

Beep Beep Beep Beep

Midnight.

“Even now, I couldn't help but spend my last moments trying to care for them,” but there was no remorse in the realization, MC was going to miss them, even if they didn’t remember them or have a consciousness in the afterlife.

MC takes a deep breath and pushes out as much air as possible, "this will end faster if my lungs are empty to begin with." MC stays still as Belphegor creeps closer, and for a second, regrets choosing the lake as their final resting place. "I love water but I really hope he doesn't try to drown me just to shake things up. Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub. I'm sorry." MC hopes their love carries through the pact because they'll never have the chance to tell them in person again. But at that moment they felt Belphegor's hand wrap around their throat again and MC felt at peace.

Whatever came next wasn't their problem anymore.

[bestiesenpai]

creampie headcanons - Itadori, Yuta & Inumaki

Who’s tryina get filled with cream like one of them cannoli’s? All the guys are aged up 18+, gender neutral reading

Yuta

He’s so sweet about it and kind of awkward bringing it up

He doesn’t want to push you to do it because he knows the cleanup can be kind of annoying

You’ll 100% have to do it for him the first time lol

But honestly, he won’t complain

“(Y/N)- fuck- I ah-” Yuta could barely control himself, his mind was all over the place and so were his hands, gripping your hips and then your lower back before moving to your thighs ad up to your ass. Your ass clapped against his thighs loudly and your legs were burning, but there was one goal in your mind keeping you from giving up.

“C-cum inside, babe.”

“Wha-?” Blinking hard, Yuta shook his head softly. “You don’t want that.”

“Yes I do!” Lightly slapping the hand that gripped your thigh, you doubled down in your efforts. “Please Yuta, please fill me up.” Pushing through the last of your strength, you went faster up and down on his cock.

“Y-you sure?”

“I’m begging, gimme your cum.” The sight of your pouty lip made his heart clench and Yuta bowed his back meeting your thrusts.

“Shit-” Panting hard, Yuta felt the first shocks of his orgasm hit him. Letting out a choked moan, his hips thrashed around a little bit as the pleasure fully consumed him. It felt good to push himself balls deep into you and paint your walls white with his seed; it was a feeling he knew he’d get addicted to.

“Fuck yes, babe.” Pulling off of him when his grip finally relaxed, you spread yourself apart so he could see his cum leak out of you. “Thank you so much Yuta, I’m nice and full now.”

Yuta immediately felt his cock getting hard again.

Itadori

He...you know he likes creampies lol

You’ve caught him many a time jerking it to creampie porn and he sometimes talks about it on the phone with Todo

He doesn’t do it too often though, he actually prefers to cum on you as opposed to inside you

But sometimes he gets caught up in the moment

Yuji had been having a bad day- well more like a bad week and it had all come to a head today in your shared bed. You weren’t sure what exactly set him off, but now here you were face pressed into the pillows while your ass was in the air.

“Fuck fuck fuck-” Yuji panted, keeping a strong grip on your wrists and making sure they stayed behind your back. He used it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock as he slammed forward, using every bit of strength he had to get over his bad day.

“Yuji!” You cried, tightening around him as your orgasm got closer. Yuji could feel you tightening and let go of your wrists, grabbing onto your hips instead and grinding himself onto you. Slapping your ass and grabbing onto it, he groaned softly as you clenched again.

“Fuck you’re so good to me.” Yuji panted, throwing his head back as he thrusted into you with more vigor than before. “Perfect little hole-” It wasn’t long until his words devolved into a babbling mess, but it wasn’t like you were listening that closely anyway as you came around his cock.

With a few more pumps, Yuji came as well, pulling out his cock until just the tip rested inside you. Whining in the back of his throat, Yuji flicked the last of his cum onto your ass. You would have fallen over without his support, but Yuji kept your ass upright so he could stare at it glistening with his cum.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He growled lowly, a shudder rippling through him at seeing his cum pooling inside you. Pressing against it with his thumb, his cock twitched back to life seeing it gush out. “So sexy.”

Inumaki

The silent killer, the notorious hot girl Inumaki enjoys a good creampie as much as the next man

Just because he doesn’t talk doesn’t mean he’s not a freak! It’s always the quiet ones you know

Alexa play Big Ole Freak followed by Freak Nasty by Miss Megan Thee Stallion

Don’t underestimate my man right here!

Your calves pressed against your thighs, the deep blue rope tying them together rubbing against your skin. There would be marks he would tend to later, a long leg massage at the end of all this, but right now Toge was too focused on making you delirious with pleasure.

“Toge!” There were tears streaming down your cheeks as Toge kept the vibrator pressed against you while he pounded into you. There had been no reprieve from this torture for so long, it felt like hours had passed of him edging you with the vibrator only to make it all stop.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth, the only indication he was close to giving in as well. Your tears mixed with the desperate and dumb cries coming from your lips was beginning to wear him down, enough that when he felt you clamp down on him for the hundredth time that night, he kept the vibrating going, pressing it harder into you.

“Fuck- To- ah, fuck-” Thrashing your head side to side, you let out a small yelp as you came. Eyes rolling back into your head, your hands beat against the mattress as he kept going. As the vibrations flowed to his cock, Inumaki came with a guttural groan, grinding his hips against yours.

With a heaving chest you tried to push the vibrator off but Toge held firm, pinning your hand to the bed with a grunt. He was intent on milking you - and himself - for all you had to give. It was only when pain pricked at the edges of his senses that he finally relaxed his body and turned the vibrator off.

“Holy fuck.” You sobbed, hands going everywhere; from your face to wipe your tears to trying to grab onto Toge. Slowly, with a soft hiss between his teeth, Toge pulled out and stared at your hole, clenching around nothing and eager to have him back inside you.

Keeping you spread for him, Toge swiped his thumb across your sex, collecting some of his seed spilling out and pushing it back in.

“You fill me so good, Toge.” Carding a few fingers through his hair, you smile softly down at him, the last of your tears drying on your face. Briefly leaning into your touch, Toge smiles and sits up straighter, beginning to undo the ropes on your legs.

[helliontherapscallion]

Anon who’s dog had a seizure. I wanted to be able to give a positive update, but I won’t be able to. I was woken up by a call at around 1:30am from my mom and the first thing she said was “[my dogs name] died”

I don’t know all the details, I was in a full fledge panic attack and was overcome with despair when it was either explained to me or I overheard (frankly, I don’t remember) but apparently at some point either last night or veryyyyy early this morning my mom let the dog out to use the restroom, and he collapsed again similarly to how he did two days ago. My mom rushed him to the emergency vet (a thirty minute drive) but he didn’t even make it there.

I think I was dry heaving at some point because my panic was so bad. I ended up going to the vet with my dad so I could say goodbye (he had before my mom left with the dog) and ngl, going with him did not help in the slightest. My dad has NPD and he kept making the situation about himself and I stg I was ready to throw myself out the car window in the middle of the freeway and walk the rest of the way there OOP—

I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to because of Covid, but we were allowed to all head into the vet and hold him and give proper goodbyes before they took him to be cremated (they have a partnership with some place that does all that jazz). It was rough. He’s a small dog, only 18 pounds, but just holding him felt so different. There was no resistance when I picked him up (I’m not his favorite person lol, so he’d always deadpan and shuffle away a little from me before giving in whenever i’d make grabby hands hahaha) and it was just rough.

A year and a half ago my old bird passed away in that same emergency vet, so I just felt like I was suffocating the whole time. It was basically history repeating itself and I had a ✨mental breakdown✨ while cradling the pooch. My mom almost had to drag me out 2.5 hours later because I didn’t want to leave him. I tried to be strong, he was her dog in the end and they had an unbreakable bond. I should’ve been the one comforting her, not the other way around. I totally failed lol.

Thank god I was able to go home with my mom and not my dad. I wanted to be the one to drive home so she could rest, but I didn’t have the energy to protest when I saw she was already in the drivers seat.

We’ve had him since he was a few months old. I was in first grade at the time, and despite us having a very rocky start (young me didn’t like all the attention he received bc it used to be mine) he was my lil buddy and I would have done anything for him. I was looking forward to taking my senior and graduation pictures with him soon, but it seems like that won’t be happening. I just wish I did more with him.

Sorry for rambling and being so depressing! I haven’t gotten much sleep over the past two nights so I’m really out of it.

If it’s not too much to ask for, could I have a part ii of my previous request but have it involving what I wrote above? Asdfghjkl my depressed ass needs comfort and all of my friends are in school LOL. (Thank god I was called off from school this time) Plus, I don’t wanna make my mom feel worse by adding my grief on top of her own (I hope that made sense)

Part 1

(A/N): anon, I’m so sorry to hear about your dog. From what you sent me about him, he sounded like an absolute delight to be around and a very good boy. You deserve to grieve too, even if you don’t think you should. Grieving is healthy and it’s something that shouldn’t be ignored. Everyone grieves differently, so maybe you and your mom could reminisce on the good times with him? Only if you both feel comfortable doing so of course. Please get some sleep, drink plenty of water, and eat some food if you haven’t already. My DMs are always open if you ever want to talk <3

Warnings: death of a dog and bird (mentioned), panic attacks, NPD parent mention

You were jolted awake by a loud ring from your phone laying on your nightstand. It was the ringtone you specifically set for your mom. Blinking deliriously, you answered with a raspy, “mom?”

You were only met with her choked sobs on the other end. This woke you up completely as you turned on a lamp and sat up fully in your bed, “mom what’s wrong?”

“(Dog name)...” She was unable to say your dog's name before she broke into more harsh sobbing. Worry and fear pricked your gut at the mention of your dog’s name. “What about (dog name)? What’s going on?”

“He d-died, (y/n). He isn’t suffering anymore.” You felt as if ice cold water was poured onto you as you sat staring at the wall in shock. Faintly you heard your mom telling you how it happened, but you didn’t register her words. The words that came out of your mother’s mouth were nearly incomprehensible anyways due to her distress. You didn’t know when she hung up, but the next time you looked at the phone screen your homescreen met you: a picture of you, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy at an amusement park. 

Your panic attack had escalated to you dry heaving over the toilet after puking up your dinner. You felt like you were suffocating as you remembered the techniques Techno used a few days prior. You stumbled up from a crouch and scrambled over to the sink. Your hands could barely grab the faucet and turn it on as you lost most of your sense of spatial awareness and everything you touched felt distant, like every single synapse in your body was both simultaneously working in overdrive and failing at the same time. The water was as cold as it was going to get, so you plunged your hands into the liquid and felt your body jolt at the temperature. After a while, your hands turned numb after regaining some senses back so you shakily cupped your hands under the faucet and gathered water into your hands. You splashed it at your face and felt yourself becoming more grounded as time passed.

By the time you left the bathroom, your dad gathered you into the car and started to drive you to the emergency vet. The entire time he was ranting about how you needed to pull yourself together because the dog was closer to him than to you. That definitely did not help in any way, it made you want to jump out of the car and walk the rest of the way to the vet. It would be better than having someone constantly belittling you for grieving. The ride was hell, but you persevered for (dog name). You needed to say goodbye to him.

When you left the car and walked into the building, it felt as if you were walking through the nine rings of hell with blazing infernos licking at your skin with every step. Dread and despair filled and overwhelmed you with every step. 

When a nurse escorted you to the room, she offered you her condolences and left you to say goodbye. With wide eyes, you slowly walked over to your mom and saw the motionless bundle of fur in her hands. It looked like he was sleeping, but you knew better. She looked at you with so much heartbreak and sadness as tears slipped down her cheeks that you remembered that he was her dog in the end and they’ve always had an unbreakable bond. You needed to be strong for her.

Your stony facade broke the second your mom handed you (dog name). He was cold and stiff as he laid unmoving in your arms, not even trying to wiggle out of your embrace like he always did. You were never his favorite person. He felt so… different. So wrong. 

Time passed around you as you held him and cried into his fur. This situation was very similar to your previous one that happened about a year and a half ago when your bird passed away and that was what finally sent you over the edge. Before you knew it, your mom was dragging you out of the building so he could get cremated. Your dad had long since gone home so he could get ready for work, so that left you to ride home with your mom. Not that you were complaining, it was certainly better than riding home with your dad. You just wished that you could drive so she could get some rest. 

By time you got home, it was about the same time you would leave for school. As you were driving down your neighborhood, you saw a very familiar car pass you. It was Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy’s car. They were probably going to school. You kept your head down and stared intensely at your tightly clasped hands. 

The second the car was in park in your driveway, you made a beeline for your room. For the rest of the day, you hid underneath your covers and ignored the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand. You spent that time alone having a panic attack. This was your longest and most intense one yet, by the time it finally calmed down it was 10:30 at night. 

You smacked your dry lips together and feel absolutely drained. The buzzing still wouldn’t let up, so you reached out with a shaky hand and opened your phone. You had at least eighty combined missed texts from Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno. 

Tuesday, Innit?

Yo, the fuck’s goin on? 

Why the hell did you ignore us when we passed you???

Music man take me by the hand lead me to the land

Ignore that dumbass

What’s going on? You weren’t at school today

(Y/n)?

Technology Sword

You don’t have to tell us what happened if you’re not comfortable

Just tell us if you’re okay

That was only the start of the messages in the group chat. Granted it was mostly Tommy spamming your name and Wilbur and Techno trying to get him to chill out, but some of the messages managed to calm the swirling panic inside of you slightly. Your phone buzzed as you got another text. This time, it was an individual one from Technoblade.

Technology Sword

Look out your window, grab your notebook

You raised your eyebrows slightly as you read the message. Your window was right across from Technoblade’s, so when you saw Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” music video and showed it to Techno, you both decided that this would be your primary communication before you eventually got phones. It wasted a ton of paper, but you both felt like the main characters in a story so you kept doing it. You hadn’t done this since you got your phone and he got his. 

After you grabbed your spare notebook and a sharpie, you sat up in your bed and turned on your lamp. When you opened your curtains, you saw Techno smiling at you before he grabbed his notebook and wrote ‘hello’. 

You uncapped your marker, wrote ‘hi’, and shakily raised it to him. You saw him frown at your shakiness, he wrote ‘you okay?’

You stared at your paper for a bit contemplating whether or not you should tell him the truth. It was no use in lying to him, he knew you better than you knew yourself. After a moment, you wrote ‘no’.

You watched as he frowned and his eyebrows crinkled together in an upwards slant. ‘Discord?’

‘Sure’

You closed your curtains once more and opened up your PC. You could already see that Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy were in a separate voice channel. When you joined, you were startled by Tommy’s loud screaming and Wilbur’s hysterical laughter. 

“WILBUR YOU PRICK WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT I WORKED SO HARD GETTING THAT NETHERITE!” 

They were interrupted by a knock on Tommy’s door, “Tommy for the love of god it’s almost eleven at night kiddo. You can keep playing but please just keep it down.”

“SORRY DADZA!”

“Good job dumbass,” Wilbur chuckled.

“Hey (y/n), how’re you?” Techno’s somewhat pointed voice interrupted them. “(Y/N)! Please tell Wilbur that it’s not cool to borrow my armor and ‘accidentally’ fall into a lava lake.”

“It was an accident I swear!” Wilbur’s slight chuckle told you otherwise. “Wilbur,” your croaky and wobbly voice scolded him quietly, “not cool.”

The voice channel went silent as you logged into your shared minecraft server. You immediately spawned in the main lobby at spawn that you built the last time you logged in. You got to work gathering wood for walls you were going to build around the city. You saw Techno’s character run to you and help you gather wood. 

“...You good, (y/n)?” Tommy’s voice took on an uncharacteristic level of gentleness and concern. 

“‘M fine.” 

After a while of silence, you heard keyboards start to click again. Gradually conversation started back up and everything felt lighthearted once more. Though, you only talked when you were prompted to. After gathering the correct amount of wood, you and Techno went back to your house so you could craft some slabs. However as you approached the crafting table, you passed your bed. Next to your bed was your pet dog, barking slightly and looking at you with it’s pixel eyes. 

You could feel tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the pixelated dog. With a lump forming in your throat you struggled to breathe through it, your breaths coming out shuttering. You made quick work of muting yourself on Discord and started sobbing, the white dog staring at you sitting on top of your minecraft bed. This wasn’t a panic attack, you knew that. But you still felt overcome by a massive wave of grief. 

After a bit, you saw Techno’s character pop in front of you and start hitting the air. In chat, you saw that he private messaged you ‘vc 2’

You clicked off the main voice chat and was immediately greeted by Techno’s gentle voice. “What’s goin on buddy?” He was only met with your sobs, “deep breaths.”

“I’m not having a panic attack.”

“Still, deep breaths are good. Follow me.” With that, you two worked on getting your breathing back to normal and your tears slowly stopped. The entire time he was giving you praise and gentle reassurances whenever you tried to apologize to him. By the time you stopped crying you felt almost completely drained. 

“You okay now?” You hummed in confirmation, too tired to say anything. “Thank you Tech, I-I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing for feeling emotions. They’re one hundred percent valid… Do you feel comfortable telling me what happened?”

“I…” You trailed off as you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words out loud. “You don’t have to tell me, ya know.” Technoblade gently reminded you.

“I’ll PM it to you.” With that, you PMed him on minecraft explaining that your dog died this morning. “Fuck, I’m so sorry (y/n). I’m sure he isn’t suffering anymore. Did- did they ever find out what caused the seizures?”

“No, but… he had tons of health issues that I’m glad he doesn’t have to deal with anymore.” 

“Do you wanna talk about the good times with him with Wil and Tommy? If you don’t want to we can just talk about them here.”

“Let’s rejoin the main voice channel.”

“Hey (y/n), how’re you doing?” Wilbur gently asked you. “I’m alright, do- do you guys know what happened?” They both said yes. Technoblade must’ve told them what was happening.

“(Y/n) come outside. We built something for you.” Tommy was uncharastically gentle. 

When you moved to go outside of your minecraft house and Wilbur and Tommy led you to an empty spot in the city you four were building, you stopped in your tracks. In front of you built in various types of stone was a dog statue. In front of it stood a sign that read ‘in loving memory of (dog name)’.

“We aren’t done with it, but we can finish it in a couple of hours,” Wilbur mumbled into the microphone. 

“No, it’s perfect as it is. I don’t know what to say guys…”

“You don’t have to say anything, just know that we’re here for you.” Tommy said, his minecraft character walking over to your own and hitting you. 

“Oi, don’t hit them!” Techno punched him back and that started an all out brawl between the two. It quickly ended when Techno pulled out his fully enchanted netherite sword named ‘Orphan Obliterator’. 

“Get fucked, nerd.” You could just tell Tommy was holding in screaming at his brother. “I’m not the nerd here, you’re the one that reads for fun.” Tommy retorted. You heard shuffling on Techno’s end and him walking away from his PC. You were about to ask what was happening before you heard Tommy silently scream in terror. “Oh fuck he’s coming!” You assumed that Tommy ran to lock his door. Not long after that you heard a knock, “I just wanna talk.”

“No! You-”

“I just wanna talk.”

“Let him talk, Tommy!”

“NO WILBUR.”

You heard Philza’s groggy muffled voice, “it is midnight on a Friday. I don’t care what happens or who fights who, just do it in your own rooms and do it quietly.” 

“Sorry Dad,” you heard Techno’s retreating steps before he returned to his chair. “You’re a douche, Technoblade.” 

“I just wanted to talk, Tommy.” At that, Techno started beating Tommy to death once more. Each time he would kill Tommy, he would give Tommy a small head start before he would find him again. While this was happening, Wilbur PMed you ‘wanna prank Tommy and Techno? I’m thinking we put chickens under their houses’.

You looked at his player and nodded. You and Wilbur got to work luring chickens into holes you dug around their bases and burying them so that they were close enough to hear, but deep enough for it to be mildly inconvenient finding them. After you two were done with that, you met at spawn again.

“Techno stop killing Tommy. We want to tell stories about (dog name).” You saw Techno’s character sprint to your group and Tommy’s come up from a hole in the ground. “I was just about to find him.”

“Thank you! God, I hate it when he does that.”

The rest of the night you four spent reminiscing on the funny things that (dog name) did over the years. At some points you even laughed along with them. After you told them that you wanted to take your senior pictures with him, Techno offered to edit him into your photos. You didn’t know when you passed out but when you woke up, you had a crick in your neck and your PC monitor was off. You could hear three sets of soft snoring on the other end of the call. You felt yourself drifting off to their gentle breathing and smiled slightly; with them, everything felt better. 

[4dtk]

more than a bet (cont. from a sweet bet)

anon: “ohmygod i loved that sub!jae work sm😭😭 would you be able to do more?? maybe with a soft femdom and whiny jae? its truly heartbreaking seeing the lack of sub!jae on here 😔” i’m glad you liked it!!!!! hope u like this one too <3 i might have made reader a bit of a mean dom i’m sorry ;;

ps was gonna make jae orgasm untouched but…. aha / you don't have to read the previous part to understand but anon is talking about this fic!

warnings/tags: pegging, bit of dacryphilia, handjob, sub!jaehyun, soft femdom!reader, brief face-sitting, brief cunnilingus

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“back for more already?” you laughed, eyeing the timid boy standing in front of you with fists clenched onto the straps of his book bag. his knuckles turn white from how tight he’s holding it and you don’t miss the nervous shifting he does with his feet.

all jaehyun lets out is a dreamy sigh, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he ignores the calls of his friends a metre from him.

he’s tall, although all the male wants to do right now is turn to mush with the uncomfortable rub of his thighs against each other and the gaze you’re looking down at him with.

it’s no different when you have him in your bed later and in the palm of your hand, literally, as the other clutches onto the sheets with the same intensity earlier, the skin of his neck exposed from how far he’s dropped his head back in pleasure.

jaehyun’s dick leaks pre-cum like no other while his tip throbs red, begging to be touched impatiently by your rather patient hand. it stays at the base of his cock, squeezing and unsqueezing as the other’s whines reach your ears.

“(y-y/n)… hurts s’bad!” jaehyun groans, eyes which were scrunched tight opening as they plead with you. it was shameless in the way his legs were spread to accommodate you in between, with the occasional buck of his hips that made the rustling of sheets ever resonant in the room. he was at your mercy, from day one in the quiet classroom, and he was at your mercy, now, with mouth parted as delicious moans spilled from his lips.

“what does, baby?” you ask, knowing full well what he was hinting at before leaning down to place a harmless kiss on his tip. you relish in the way you make him feel, the gesture making his thighs almost close, something that he does out of habit if not for your hands holding them open.

“t-that! that hurts, (y/n)-ssi!” he chokes on the moan he lets out, twitching with sensitivity when you finally move your hand along his shaft, giving him what he wants. your hand moves easily with how much he’s leaking, the lewd noises increasing in volume as you increase your pace. you make sure to pump his full length, up, down, up, down, with his arousal providing for sufficient lube.

jaehyun lets out a sob, slapping a hand over his mouth as the knot in his stomach tightens and tightens, threatening to release at any moment with how good you’re making him feel. your lips feel dry with the desperation in his movements, sounds and noises alike bringing much wetness to your underwear. it’s not the priority on your mind for now, rather more fixated on helping jaehyun to his high.

“you wanna cum, hm?” you mocked with a grin, speeding up your hand while the other goes up to tweak at his nipples, rolling them in between your thumb and index as his moans become more prominent and frequent. there’s multiple affirmations spilling from his lips, yes, yes, yes, i wanna c-cum!

“go on, then, cum,” you prompt with a pant and it hits. it hits like truck as a sultry groan rips from his throat while you observe how his veins pop out in frustration and quads flex when the string snaps. jaehyun’s eager to get more pleasure as he jerks into your already moving hand.

there’s endless profanities mixed in with mewls as he spills all over your hand, white hot spurts of cum dripping from his tip and down the back of his hand. you so skillfully lick it up while it’s still wrapped around his cock, deliberately avoiding the shaft.

as jaehyun catches his breath, there’s a whispered question of do you think you’re ready? you don’t push it when he shakes his head, but you realise that you’re thankful. so so thankful he’s come back a second time for you to be able to see this again.

and again.

and again.

the next time, you’re lapping at his hole, prodding and teasing with your tongue while his face stays buried in his sheets. he’s struggling to keep a quiet front even when you slip a finger in, both from embarrassment and the family movie going on outside and sticks his ass up into your face achingly.

“that’s it, baby boy, relax for me. gotta prepare you for my cock, now, yeah?” you moan at how easy his hole is sucking in your finger, no doubt doing the same to your strap later on.

jaehyun watches in awe as you remove your outfit, eyes lingering on the obvious bulge sticking out of your underwear. his mouth hangs open, both in fear and excitement with you having worn the strap-on for the whole day of university, lips turning up at the mere thought of you ruining him in the next few minutes.

“whatcha smiling about?” you grinned, guiding his chest down onto the bed again as he mumbles with a whine, something that makes you freeze up in the midst of lubing your cock.

“just thinking of how dumb you’d fuck me, (y/n)-ssi.” you’re sure it’s the innocence laced within the voice, so pure, so needy, yet so dirty.

your breath is shaky as you ease the strap-on into him. every inch that disappears into him only make you groan in the sight, while the male bites down on a finger to prevent any noise. by then, you’re unable to keep a cap on your lust, snapping your hips to deliver a hard thrust that has jaehyun’s moans hitting the walls.

“you doing okay, honey?”

jaehyun only hums, a pleased smile spreading across his lips as he turns back to you with eyes that take your breath away. they’re dilated, tinted with something you never knew you could bring out of jaehyun.

as his back arches to get more of your cock, you have to swallow. it’s the only way to take your mind off the sweat glistening off his back and the tight grip his hand has on your thigh.

“’s so good, (y/n), ’s so so good- mmh!” he drawls out his speech while you continue to thrust in and out at his confirmation, losing just a bit of control with how smoothly your name rolls of his tongue.

your hips meet his ass continuously, feeling the burn of your thighs and the roughness of the sheets below you. there’s distant chatter outside the door, fortunate enough for jaehyun’s room to be at the end of a passageway and away from the living room.

“h-harder! faster, p..pleeease-!” he almost screams when your cock meets his prostate, mouth dropped at the immense pleasure and tongue lolling out.

tears lingered at the corners of jaehyun’s eyes, making you want to cum on the spot with the expression on his face. beautiful, beautiful, all spread out for me. it repeated like a mantra in your head.

jaehyun cries out when your hand wraps around his cock and he swears he sees heaven for a second with eyes rolling back. you’re stroking with fervour, matching the pace of your satisfying thrusts and the squelching sounds only contribute to the atmosphere, room smelling like sex and musk and desperation.

“c’mon, baby boy, cum on my cock. do your worst.”

and he really does.

“hhhn- cumming, cumming, so good- so full!” jaehyun whimpers into the sheets, just loud enough for you to hear when you’re hovering over his body. it’s the most the male’s cummed since the last time, white staining both the sheets below you and your hand while his body jerks at the intense orgasm.

you hum, easing out the strap that jaehyun moans at the emptiness. nevertheless, he relaxes when you place a kiss on his shoulder, still recovering from the hypnotising high.

“what about.. you… (y/n)-ssi?” he slurs, turning his head on the pillow so his eyes could see you in your glory.

“you’re tired, aren’t you? come, let’s rest up-“

“no…” jaehyun whines, and you’re so close to edge him again, “wanna eat you out, (y/n)…”

your lips can taste his cum when you bite a finger out of nervousness, hands fumbling to remove your strap almost immediately. you’re positively soaked when you touch yourself after, caving in to your desire when jaehyun drags you closer.

“just relax, (y/n). take your seat,” he’s still delirious, giggling when your surprise shows. and when you eventually do? it’s the best fucking seat that he offers, his mouth sucking on your clit as your legs tremble around his ears.

“you’re delicious, (y/n).”

it’s the best fucking seat and jaehyun’s glad to clean up after you, worshipping you at the foot of your throne adorned with gold and velvet that he always comes back to. it’s addicting, but how could he resist when you’re a queen that never stops giving?

[wri0thesley]

hi nat!! i noticed requests were open and remembered “randomlyncrying during/after sex” angst being mentioned and i just👀😳🙏

ive had personal experience with that (mostly bc being vulnerable and intimate is scary yet cathartic for me, its not even necessarily sad crying or happy crying its just Strong Emotions) and i was wondering if u could do some like smut to hurt/comfort kinda with that specific scenario please🤭 maybe with risotto or abba bc i just want to be fucked AND comforted by a big strong goth man!!😩🙏

overwhelming - risotto x reader (2k)

warnings: crying during sex. afab reader. neutral pronouns. 

Everything about Risotto is overwhelming. The way he looks at you; the colours of his eyes. The low, gravel voice – the way he speaks only when he thinks he has something worth hearing. The touch of his hot, large hands on your skin – his width, his height, the knowledge of what he could do to you--

It’s even more overwhelming when you are beneath him in bed.

His body caging yours; the scarred, muscled chest and how it seems to heave in and out as he breathes. The scent of him – leather and iron and smoke – wrapping all around you, until he is everywhere. In your nose, in your mouth, his face flashing across your head as you pull him down into another kiss and he worries at your bottom lip, insistent and hot and needy.

Big hands run all over your form; taking his time to enjoy the way you feel, the curves and divots of your figure, the softness of you beneath his own calloused, work-weary hands. You feel like you fit into his grip perfectly – like you were made for him. You inhale sharply as his hands spread your legs apart, exposing the heated, slick valley of your sex to the warm air of the bedroom.

It always seems to be warm when Risotto is around. He kicks out heat merely by existing; and you cling to him in bed for it, grateful to be reminded of his presence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he dips his head to murmur, his voice deep and dark. Whenever he speaks, you feel a rush of desire go through you to pool at the apex of your thighs; there is something about the sonorous bass of his voice that makes your toes curl and that echoes through you, making you feel as though you are the only person in the world. “Look at yourself, tesoro.”

You do not see what he sees – but you do see the worship in his eyes. The hunger as he presses your legs further apart and leans into you, as you feel his hard cock press against your thigh insistently.

He is a careful man, despite his profession, and he knows that what he has between his thighs is too much for many people. He never sheaths himself inside of you straight away; even now, when you are fair pooling slick on his already messy sheets, one of his big hands is cupping your mound.

Calloused thumb rubbing over your clit, coaxing heat and sighs and little rocks of your hips. One large, lone finger – sliding inside of you, rubbing against your walls with the practise of a man who knows your body as intimately as he knows his own. Your head rolls back and you display your neck for him; vulnerable, and needy, and utterly his. He does not leave your neck unmarked – his lips are on you in moments, sucking love-bites, nipping bruises, his finger still pumping in and out of you.

Two fingers. You tangle your own grip into his silvery pale hair and pull his mouth to yours so that you may kiss him – he tastes like iron, always. You do not find it unpleasant; blood is a taste that you have grown to appreciate, because it reminds you of him. Three fingers, and you hear the wet squelch of your arousal, feel it dripping out of you with every rock of his hand. His thumb has stopped teasing your clit, but the rough heel of his hand is now continuing the onslaught of pleasure. With every thrust, it rubs against the swollen bud, and you feel your stomach begin to tie itself in knots.

He pulls them out of you with a slick gush, the hand formerly buried inside of you coming to lift your leg so he can slot his hips in between you. His fingers are dripping wet, but he has eyes for nothing but you beneath him. Rose-red irises meet your own, as if to ask you; ‘is this alright? Do you need me to stop?’

For an assassin – for a man feared around Italy, though they do not know his name – Risotto is never anything but gentlemanly with you. He asks your permission, holds you afterwards, kisses you and soothes you and murmurs your name filled with affection even when you are around the other members of your team.

“Special treatment,” some of them huff, rolling their eyes – but they shoot you sly smirks. They do not begrudge their capo his happiness – not in such a business as theirs.

“Risotto,” you breathe, looking up at him. “Please—”

The please is enough. Your other leg is lifted gently, hitched up so he can press your knees to your chest. You’ve had to experiment with positions plenty, in order to find things that are comfortable with Risotto’s height and his size and your own limitations – but this one always makes him seem to hit you deeper, further. His cock head pushes against the tight ring of your entrance, catching on you--

And his eyes meet yours as he begins to press himself inside of you. There is so much tenderness contained within them that you are almost lost for words. You would not think that eyes like that could make you feel so utterly adored – when you had first met Risotto, they had filled you with fear. Now, though, you look at them and you see all of the things that Risotto is too afraid to say out loud, contained within their multitudes.

He’s slow as he hilts himself, letting you feel the stretch of your walls around him. He’s always slow with you – like he’s afraid you will break. People who see him out and about, you know, never imagine how careful or tender he is.

Your head tips back again, into the pillow, as you see stars. He always fills you up. It’s indescribable, how right that he feels inside of you. You feel like he was made to slot inside of you – every time this happens, you don’t feel quite right until his heavy balls slap against your sex and he has bottomed out, filled you up, and the two of you are as connected as it is possible for two human beings to be.

Your breath catches as he pulls out, as he seeks to find a rhythm that works for both of you. In this position, you cannot quite get purchase on his shoulders – but Risotto sees to that himself, his big hands entangling and entwining with your fingers to press your held hands either side of your head.

The position is intimate, his eyes staying glued to yours even as he slips into a rhythm. His face is softer than you usually see it as he looks down at you; his sculpted lips tilted at the corners in a way that makes your breath feel like it doesn’t fit properly in your lungs.

You adore him so much.

Everything about him makes you feel like you are free-falling through a summer sky. You are, you’re sure, not supposed to be so deliriously happy with anybody, when you’re in a career such as your own. You should not be allowed to love him so freely and deeply – but the world has said you are. The world has dropped Risotto Nero into your lap in all of his occasionally awkward, stoic, handsome glory.

His hips flex in and out. He slides easily, through the slick glide of your sex – stoking up hunger and need, the tight little ball of tension inside of you that signifies your release. You hear the sound of him fucking you, the slap of him bottoming out, and you lose yourself entirely in the sensation of Risotto filling you up.

The world seems to fade into nothing but the place where the two of you are joined; nothing else important, aside from Risotto inside of and above you, his breath unsteady in his chest. The heat that’s gathering low in your belly, as he chases your release along with his own--

After his earlier ministrations, it’s no wonder that yours creeps up on you faster. Your ball of tension is the first one to take too much pressure, to be unable to do anything but explode into pieces – and it does so in a great rush that has you wailing, your mouth opening, as your mind seems to blank out into nothingness at the same time as every feeling in the entire world seems to hit you all in one go.

You’re crying?

You’re sobbing.

Your shoulders are shaking, your lip wobbling, your throat so dry that you can barely gasp air as it feels as though every emotion that you have ever experienced seems to come around to visit you again, the feeling entirely overwhelming. You can’t think. You can’t breathe--

Risotto’s eyes are wide and full of concern, blood and ink gone to uneasiness that this is all his fault. Your eyes are blurry with tears, but you see him open his mouth to speak nonetheless.

“Hey, hey--” his voice is quiet, through the haze of your tears, his hips stilling inside of you. “Tesoro, amore, cara mia--”

The pet names just make your bubbling sob get worse; your breath short. You don’t know what it is! You’re not upset, you’re not angry, you’re not even so happy that you can’t help yourself.

You’re just feeling so, so, so much.

“Risotto,” you breathe out, hiccuping, and your legs are gently dropped from your chest. “Risotto, I’m--”

“Please tell me if something’s wrong,” he murmurs, low and dark. “I’ll stop, I’ll do anything--”

“N-no,” you shake your head, aware that he is still buried inside of you – that your tears are stopping him reaching his full completion. “I-it’s not that—”

He pulls out, carefully, and you miss the feel of him inside of you like a physical ache, even though he is still on top of you. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, chasing the tears away. A half-laugh bubbles up through the heaving of your chest and the tears clogging up your throat.

“Please tell me,” he repeats, again, all concern. His hands are still entangled with yours, as he leans down and puts his face very close to yours. If you stretched forward, just a little, you could rub your noses together, and the thought makes you smile despite yourself and despite the tear-tracks still drying on your face. “Amore, I promise I won’t be angry at you--”

“It’s just-- s-so much--” You say, eventually – lost for words, because how does one explain quite why they started crying with no real reason to? It had simply felt like everything had washed over you in one go, and your heart had not been able to handle it. Something about your orgasm had pushed forth all of your feelings, whether good or bad, and they had scrambled inside of your chest until all you could do was let tears roll down your face.

“I’m here,” he says, soft and slow. He lets go of your hands. Large arms wrap around you, pulling you up so you’re pressed against the broad expanse of your chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s so warm. Your cheek rests against him; hard muscle and scar tissue. You can hear the beating of his heart, and in the end it’s that – steady, constant, true – that makes the tears finally stop leaking down your face. Your breath calms.

A big hand comes up to stroke through your hair, reassuring.

“I’m always here for you,” he says. “Forever. Through anything.”

“I love you,” you say, all in a rush. You two avoid it; it’s hard to deal with constants when you’re in a business like Passione. ‘I love you’ is not in the vernacular of an assassin – but neither is ‘forever’, and Risotto had said it to you as casually as breathing--

“I love you too,” Risotto says. His voice does not quaver. He is certain and sure; as strong as the arms around you, the chest you’re pressed to, as strong as his convictions always are. He means it.

And you are so, so very glad that he does.

[rocorambles]

ayoo let me get fucked by akaashi and kuroo at the same time :3

HAHAHAHA omg what I love about this pairing is that you just know Kuroo will be like a hyperactive kitten while Akaashi is just there wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into regretting all his life decisions. BUT the fact that he still gets a taste of you makes it all worth it even if Kuroo does annoy the shit out of him.

Warnings: NSFW, Degradation, Dirty Talk

You giggle and squeal as Kuroo suddenly hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder, playfully slapping your ass as you lightly make a show of pounding your fists on his back before extending your arms and making grabby hands at Akaashi. The editor sighs, staring at your childish antics with a deadpanned expression, but he’s always been weak for you and he lets you excitedly grab his hand and allows himself to be dragged along after the two of you. 

Kuroo throws you on the mattress so hard you bounce back and you wildly flail, only to let out a quiet grunt as a tall lean body pounces on you none too gently, letting his body slump and go limp on top of you, jokingly suffocating you and playing dead as you laugh and attempt to shove him off to no avail. But luckily your savior with blue eyes is there to rescue you and you smugly smirk at a confused Kuroo who’s now staring wide eyed at the two of you from his new position on the floor, courtesy of a hard shove from the ex-setter. 

You loudly moan, emphasizing your hand motions and the arch of your body as you pull Akaashi into a kiss, sighing blissfully as your lips lock, letting him take control as he sensually explores your mouth, hands gently running and caressing every inch of your body as he carefully helps you remove your clothes. And Kuroo pouts, feeling left out and forgotten, only to open his mouth in disbelief when you briefly turn to look his way and stick your tongue teasingly out at him before turning your attention back to the man currently holding you. 

But both of you startle when there’s a sudden additional weight on the bed and you whimper as a hot wet tongue licks and bites down the side of your neck, calloused hands punishingly pinching your nipples. 

“That wasn’t very nice of either of you.”

Akaashi scoffs, half a mind to say something snarky right back at the messy haired man, but he’s distracted, attention focused solely on you once again as Kuroo wrangles more and more pained and pleasured moans from you as he continues to mark up your skin, and he coos, tenderly kissing your slack open mouth.  

“Is Kuroo being mean? Want me to make you feel better?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, fingers already drifting down to your inner thighs and you clutch at Akaashi’s shoulders, eyes rolling and head falling back on Kuroo as the editor gently circles and rubs your clit. It’s so much, the delicious fire burning in your stomach from the stimulation of both your clit and nipples mixed with the electrifying jolts from every nip and harsh tweak Kuroo laces his touches with. But it’s not enough and before you know it, you’re pleading for more. 

And how could Akaashi deny the hazy lust in your eyes, the way you’re desperately humping down on his hand, the slick pooling between your thighs? 

It’s embarrassingly easy for him to slide a finger inside of him and he smirks as he quickly adds a second finger, curling his fingers leisurely as he takes in how overwhelmed you look from just a couple of digits, drool beginning to trickle from the corner of your pretty mouth, your pussy tightening around him with every filthy word Kuroo growls in your ear. 

“Look at you, kitten. You already look like a dumb broken slut from a couple of fingers. How are you going to take both our cocks?”

Your breath hitches and Akaashi groans as you clamp down on his fingers at those words, pussy growing even wetter and he nudges a third finger inside of you. 

“Yeah, you like the thought of that? Want to be stuffed full of cock? Of course you love that, you little whore. Our little whore.” 

And that’s all it takes for you to come undone and both men groan as your body convulses and thrashes between them, Akaashi continuing his stimulation of both your drenched pussy and your clit, Kuroo tenderly kissing the back of your neck as he continues rolling his nipples between your fingers. 

You let them help you ride out the waves, letting yourself get lost in the sensations until you’re trembling, whimpering as it borders too much. And you give both of them a loopy grin as they smile fondly down at you. 

“There’s our silly slut. Welcome back, sweetheart. Ready to keep on going?”

Keep on going? 

You gasp as something hard nudges at your sopping wet pussy, your nails digging into Akaashi’s shoulders as he slowly bottoms out inside of you, sinking into the sweet kisses and encouragements Kuroo peppers you with. You’re so full, deliciously full, and as you adjust to the cock inside of you, you can feel arousal flaring up inside of you once again. 

“Kei-Keiji, please fuck me, please fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, FUCK!”

You scream as the normally reserved man seemingly snaps, and suddenly it’s all you can do to hang on as blinding pleasure drowns you with every thrust of Akaashi’s hips, sobbing in pleasure and surprise at the feral pace he sets. But a foreign touch reaches you through the fog and you weakly turn your head, whimpering when Kuroo catches your lips in a kiss as he continues to trace the rim of your puckered hole with lube covered fingers. 

“You’re going to be good and take both of us together, right?” 

And you barely get a chance to nod before he pushes one knuckle inside of your tight hole, chuckling at how your mouth opens impossibly wide as you gasp and silently scream. 

He takes his time, almost painstakingly so, and you’re a writhing, desperate mess as you cry and beg him to hurry up, sniffling when all he does is just scissor his fingers inside of you, adding an obscene amount of lube. But he slyly grins when he finally hears what he’s waiting for, hears you lewdly and explicitly begging for his cock. 

“What a fucking cock slut.” 

You don’t even feel embarrassed at his words, just giddy and deliriously happy and relieved when he finally slides his cock inside of you and both men groan, cocks twitching at how you wantonly smile, looking like debauchery itself, and they swear they can see your brain melting in the mix of drool and tears leaking down your face. 

And you wouldn’t be surprised if your mind was broken, it certainly feels like it as both cocks plunge in and out of you, Kuroo matching Akaashi’s break necking pace. 

Your breasts bounce from the force of their thrusts and you’re so close, stumbling on the edge once again, unable to think of anything else except cocks and cumming, incoherent slurred words and sounds slipping past your lips. All it takes is Akaashi once again reaching down between your legs and Kuroo biting down hard on your shoulder to have you crashing and you wail as you fall apart, dragging both men with you as your walls clench and milk them dry. 

You feel like jelly as your trembling body is gently laid down, still drowning in post-coital bliss, and your heavy eyelids flutter as your body tries to sink into slumber. But you blearily blink your eyes, a questioning hum as something swipes down your leg and your face heats in shame when Kuroo grins at you, cum on his fingertip and suddenly you’re all too aware of how sticky your inner thighs and pussy feel, obediently and shyly letting him stick his finger in your mouth and sucking it clean. 

“Get some rest while you can, kitten. Because we’re doing this all over again as soon as you wake up. You have two other holes I want to test out.”

Kuroo yelps when he’s roughly shoved out of your line of vision and suddenly blue eyes are kindly gazing at you. 

“Ignore the idiot. Get as much rest as you need.” 

And you’re quick to listen, eyes almost instantly closing and dozing off as the two men quietly bicker in the background while cleaning you up and tucking you in bed.