#has you pinned down under him and you're squirming and laughing and crying and he's...

[teddybeartoji]

i will not be thinking about tickling again i won't i won't i won't

[writingoddess1125]

Relationship Weirdness

Kurt Wagner x GN Reader Headcanon

Funny and Silly established relationship

Masterlist

This Link leads to Kurt Wagner- Or does it???

THE NICKNAME DILEMMA

• Kurt has a Love, Hate relationship with the seemingly endless stream of nicknames you seemed to have for him and how you constantly

• Sure he had ones for you, but all classic in affection!

• Like Schatz aka his treasure, or Engel! He loves calling you Engel, Liebling also, Sweetie too in English

• However from you he does get the 'Love' Or 'Babe' but also he gets-

• 'Fuzzy Butt!', 'Blueberry', 'Sugar Booger-'

• Some he was fairly sure one was a drug inudendos as well!

"Schatz- What is will the constant changing nicknames?" He ask you one day after you kiss his cheek and weirdly called him 'Sugar Booger'

"Do you not like them?" You ask, he shakes his head.

"Nein, I like them. It's just- Isn't that a slang? For a bad thing?" He questioned, watching a weird smile goes across your face as you suddently snort up his arm like you'd done a line off him.

"Yes- You my Blue Cocaine"

He stared at you with a deadpan stare, trying to hold back his laughs as he covers his face with his hands.

You're so fucking weird-

PHYSICAL AFFECTION FUCKERY

• Kurt's tail has a mind of its own especially with you, so more often then not it will be wrapped around you, sliding up and down your back, sliding across your thighs or trying to find its way into your hands.

• He never notices until you reciprocate the affection, often leaving to him being a blushing mess when you run your fingers up the velvet like tail-

• He is naturally very physically affectionate so will cuddle you or lean against you most times.

• Sitting on the couch? Kurt will slide in right next to you. Making dinner? He will lean his weight on your back and look to see what you're making- Personal Space doesn't exist

• While Kurt is Cuddly, You are grabby-

• His tail? His fluffy little ears? His sides? All fair game!

• Seeing two fuzzy asscheeks in the shower, you see how the hair sort of swirls like a cowlick-

• You can't help but touch them-

• Earning a loud surprised noise from Kurt as he turns to look at you quite literally messing with the hair on his ass

"Really?-"

THE BEARD ERA!

• Kurt is very feline like in nature and the facial hair adds to this as well it seems.

• He will like to rub his neck and cheek against you, sometimes giving a growl/rumble as he does so.

• You can protest all you want but he will just give you an evil smile and rub his cheek against yours harder before teleporting away to avoid the consequences for giving you mild rug burn on your cheek!

• When Kurt's beard starts growing thicker he gets some ingrowns on the part were his neck meets his head so you have to open pin him to get at them-

"Stop being a big baby! It's deep!" You yell as you pin your boyfriend, watching him squirm under you in protest as you get the tweezers closer to the series of bumps.

"NEIN! LASS EN IN RUHE!" He screamed as you get the tweezers to get a big ingrown that protruded from his skin.

"AHHHHHH!!!"

THE FOOD FIASCO

• Has very weird eating habits- You often forget he was raised in a circus in Germany so he eats like it too.

• AKA Hawaii Toast-

• Your mortal enemy and the thing that you are willing the kick box over in terms of the kitchen area. The first time you saw Kurt make it, you almost sobbed at this atrocity towards both Hawaii, Italy, Bread and maybe Humanity

• "What the fuck is that!?" You almost cry out as you see the monstrosity on the counter.

"Hawaii Toast-" Kurt says calmly as he butters bread, adds ham, a ring of pineapple and some kraft cheese on top before chucking it into the toaster oven while grabbing some ketchup-

You stare at him in horror as he makes direct eye contact with you and takes a bite of this- monstrosity

• He does know how to cook luckily even if he makes Hawaii Toast for himself- Him learning recipes from your culture and you learning from his. As well as taking turns with kitchen duty!

• For Drinks- Kurt is the Master! He can open any bottle, he can make the perfect pours! He knows the exact drink you'd like off the top of his head

"You're a fucking Wizard Blue-"

You say in awe as you watch Kurt make you a drink calmly, raising a brow as he opens the beer bottle with his tail like nothing.

"I know~"

[boofeine]

kinky things that make seventeen members more aroused during sex

WARNINGS: mdni, smut headcanons, afab reader, cum play, breeding kink, bondage, restraining, overstimulation, role play, edging, pain kink, orgasm dinal, spanking, choking

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @kooqitas @unlikelysublimekryptonite

seungcheol – cum play and breeding; it has to be raw sex... there's nothing seungcheol loves more than feel your walls pulsating around his cock. the way he can see his hot cum spurr on your ass cheek or on your breast, belly, neck, anywhere really. sometimes, when he feels a little risky, he can't help but ask to cum inside you, the way your cums mixed comes out of your clenching hole when he finally pulls out, he's done but he's ready to get hard again.

jeonghan – having to keep quiet; it's all about the teasing, he loves seeing you suffer to keep it down when it feels so good. your lips caged in your teeth as small whines treats to come out, "is it too much, babe?", he would tease with a devilish smirk, testing all your limits by restraining your high until you can't take it anymore. when you're finally coming undone, he loves to press his palm over your mouth or demand you to bite him to not moan too loud.

joshua – multiple orgasm; like... HEAR ME OUT!! he likes to take his time with you, he's so gentle, with no rush at all. sometimes, it's not even on purpose, but he's edging you so much, that when it finally comes, you cum and cum and cum again. his stamina is crazy and he won't stop until he's satisfied. you squirm and sweat under his workship, "are you tired? i haven't even started with you yet, lay down again for me".

junhui – role play; see, he just gives me those vibes. he'd feel embarrassed at first, but once you fully clock him in, he'd be obsessed. specially, scenarios where you're doming him, he fucking lose his mind... use him, step on him, anything, he's rock hard under your actions. as he grows used to it, he even asks you to get costumized for it, getting really in character, he loves sexy costumes and lacy fantasies.

soonyoung – pain kink; is it new for anyone? hoshi, himself, said he works better under pressure. he loves the spanking and the degradation, he squirms and growls because of you, but it also makes him want to do a better job... if not to make you fully satisfied, he's not doing anything. i see hoshi enjoying face slapping, rough gripping like grabbing his cheeks and jaw while he's on his knees for you, thumb slowly making its way inside his mouth as you laugh at how pathetic he looks for you.

wonwoo – edging; sometimes he's in his mean mode, he normally is sweet and passionate during sex but breaking a sweat to make you beg him to let you cum is one of his favorites. the way you wrap your legs around his hips, rolling yours as you bumble breathy words in between "please", he never cums harder, pinning you down on the mattress to stop you from running, his core pressing over your clit as wonwoo alternates in rough thrusts and slow ones. it makes you almost cry for his mercy.

jihoon – being loud; different from jeonghan, he loves to hear you loud and clear, it bust his ego that he's doing such a good job at delivering pleasure. it could get him off guard at first, too afraid someone would hear, his cheeks flushing, as you scream your moans. but he grows attached to it, it turned into his breaking point every sex, he always pounds harder just to hear you. "is it that good, huh? fuck! let me hear you"

seokmin – overstimulation; especially during oral, he loves the way your legs close on his head when it's too much, how you whine, whimper, and cry out his name. how the grip you have on him always tighten when you say it's too much and that you can't cum anymore. he snugs to your arms, sweetly saying you're a good girl and that he knows you can take it. your pussy swollen and hurt as he whispers "just one more, give it to me" but it's never the last. he loves to treat you well before he gets anything, he gets hard just by pleasing and hearing you.

mingyu – getting tied up; just give this man some handcuffs, put him tied on the bed headboard, i swear he'd cum by just you using him while he's not able to do anything. he likes the frustration, the way he always tries to break free just to touch you as you look at him, tutting and disapproving his not so well behavior. he always cum faster than anything when you use his cock as your fuck toy on your cunt.

minghao – blindfold; he enjoys doing it on you, you always get more out of breath and sensitive when he gets you blindfold. the thrill of it making goosebumps form easily, anticipating every move he might do next. he's obsessed at seeing you so vulnerable, you look nothing but innocent those times. your low moans and whines, he swears you're heaven sent, bumping his length as he touches your body, watching you react shakily, watching you gets him wetter.

seungkwan – rage sex and spanking; not a surprise either... he almost never fights with you, but if there's a good outcome to those fights, it is how frustrated you both get and pull out during the makeup deed. it goes both ways, he likes both, you doming him or him doming you, either way is intense. the choking, the slapping, the way the words turn just a bit bratty and aggressive. he manhandles you like you're born to be his little light doll, changing positions and throwing you around on the bed sheets.

vernon – bringing more people to the game; yes, he's into it. he's up for the threesome always, more than three people, he'd ponder, though. he likes every different aspect of it, just sitting back and watching, or being watched, or mixing positions. it adds to the sex and he's up to it. he's not a jealous guy but normally sets to making the things to you and just receiving for the third person, maybe that's what also arouses him so much, he doesn't gotta do much to cum.

chan – orgasm denial; more precise, being the one receiving it. he enjoys the feeling of his red sensative cockhead burning and dripping pre cum every time you stop him from cumming. the way it hurts just a bit and enough to make him roll his eyes when he finally cums. he won't cum until you say he can and that alone, that hold of power you have on him, makes him tight on his ball. but he's good, he's so well-behaved, you must treat him well.

[meowpupp]

Omg i had read the numbing cream price fic with puppy reader awhile ago and i had the thought of maybe puppy reader being scared to fuck price after cause she thinks he will make her numb again (im not sure if that makes sense) you dont have to do this its just a little thought i had cause im a slut for angst with smut at the end

tw:// none? price is being a tease. hickies, hybrid smut, fem reader

it's always after the more intense punishments that price feels bad. you're just so sweet and soft, he can't help it. but something about your big teary eyes as you whimper and whine around his cock twists his morals. gummy walls clenching his thick shaft tight as you cry, reduced to tears as you take it. 

but its only a couple days after that it hits price. he was a little too mean. you've been skittish, squirming away from his touch, brushing him off. its only once he has you under him, pretty body naked and exposed for him, that he realises. you're nervous, worried his punishment may be the new norm. 

instead, price hums, listening to every wobbly word. after you're done, he sighs, squeezing you gently. "Im sorry sweetheart, i was a little too mean, wasn't i?" his hand snakes down, teasing the waistband of your panties. "bet i left your poor little cunt all needy hm?"

his beard scratches your neck as he kisses your jaw. he pulls away, a hand cupping your cheek, the other next to your head to support himself. his voice is a low purr, thick with lust and greed. "what's wrong pup?" his hand trails, curling around the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw, "words, now."

and on command, you spill. words nervous and small as you tell him how you don't want to be numb again. how your ache to feel his thick, veiny cock stretching you out. you miss the sting from when he first fills you, the fullness you feel as he rutts into you. it takes everything in him not to fuck you then and there, fill your poor neglected cunt with more cock than it can handle. but he doesn't.

his fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing your mons. His eyes meet yours, intense, stormy blue staring into you, "want me to kiss it better?" he almost laughs at the loud, needy wine you let out, how your thighs tense as you soak your panties. your body squirms under his, hips bucking and back arching. you crave him. his thick, rough fingers. his masculine, musky scent. his deep growly voice. everything is so him, so engulfing, and he knows you need it.

price continues to tease, leaving a line of hot, sloppy kisses down your sternum, then your tummy. he takes his time, exploring every dip and curve. your body is like an art piece, something he wants to admire. price stains your skin with lovebites and hickies, marking the soft flesh as his. He leaves no inch untouched, ensuring that you feel the sharp nip of his teeth and scratch from his beard all over. 

his fingers continue to tease. his left traces your slit, fingers only dipping in deep enough to make them slick and sticky. the other pins your hips to the bed, making sure you can't escape his slow torture. he grins and laughs against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine. He can feel the dull throb of your needy cunt, how you're only getting wetter, whiner. 

"where do you need me, sweet girl?" he kisses your sternum, right between your soft tits "here?" his head tilts, waiting a moment, feigning innocence as you squirm and whine, "what about here, hm? deep in your pretty tummy? rearranging your guts?" his eyes are sharp as they watch you, burning the image of you so desperate into his mind. 

he chuckles, the sound vibrating against the sensitive skin of your pelvis. price lowers his head, taking his time. his beard scratches the inside of your thighs, breath ghosting your clothed cunt. he takes a moment to admire you. flushed and needy, legs spread for him, hands scratching at his hair as you try to pull him closer. if he could, he'd keep you like this forever. desperate for his cock, for relief from the fire in he started in your gut. 

He finally relents, kissing your clothed clit "or maybe here, hm? tell me puppy, words."

taglist; @titaniasfairy (anyone else just send an ask to my inbox or comment n I'll add you)

[jiminiecrickets]

HONEY WILD & MANNA-DEW: PART II. JJK / M!READER

summary. you have stepped on the toes of a vampire whose possessiveness knows no bounds.

wc. 8.1k

tags. smut | vampire!jk, werewolf!reader, dom bottom!jk, sub top!reader, jk calls r. mutt/dog/pup/puppy, ownership/collars (r. receiving), god kink (?) and worship (jk receiving), sadomasochism, degradation (r. receiving), blood drinking, brief knife play, multiple orgasms

[ requested ]

"take it off."

"not until you learn how to behave," he purrs, dancing his fingers up your bare arm. you shiver; his touch is as cold as ice. "i know that you're my good boy, darling, but you can't go around touching others, kissing others, when you already have me to please."

"take it off," you repeat, a little bit of a whine glancing off of your words. you tug at the smooth leather, and the silver heart-shaped tag clinks against itself with every move. your face explodes with heat as jungkook hooks his finger under it and drags you down to his level, crushing his lips to yours.

you moan softly as he walks you to the wall, not stopping until he has you pinned in place next to the foyer mirror. it's a silver antique, intricately hand-chased and set with mother-of-pearl. he cages your wrists by your temples as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. his slick white fangs glide against your lower lip, teasing his control – how easy it would be to let go and draw blood.

you squirm, feeling his clothed bulge rut lazily against your thigh. then, just as you begin to stiffen, he pulls away entirely.

he hums as he glances in the mirror. his soft, luxurious black clothes float in the shape of him and he tucks his shirt in tighter, fixing up the folds of cloth. he glances aside at you, your warm expression a mess of embarrassment and want. his lip curves.

"fix up your trousers," he says airily, swiping his thumb over his lower lip. he smacks them softly and glides past you, placing his hands on your hips to move you out of the way. "nobody gets to see you like this but me. do you understand?"

"yes," you breathe, throat bobbing as he bends over to tuck his heels into his shoes. his hand braces against the edge of the buffet table – his fingers are adorned with platinum rings and bracelets, sparkling under the midday sunlight.

"good boy," he croons, beckoning with one jewellery-laden hand. you can imagine so vividly how it'd look wrapped around your neck, your cock…

"what are you thinking about?"

"nothing," you lie quickly. "nothing at all."

his lips quirk up. "mm, just as i like you. heel, puppy – keep up."

—

you shift your jacket collar higher around your neck, rubbing it self-consciously. the jingle of the metal tag is muffled against the cloth, but you still feel that it's too loud – that every glance in your direction is because they hear it and know your shame.

you swallow and adjust your collar one more time before stepping onto the soft greenery of the park. a playground on the other side is full of life – children screaming and laughing, parents watching from benches or helping their toddlers chase after their older siblings. on the edge of the park nearest the university, several clumps of students tap away at their laptops and scribble on notepads.

"yn-hyung!"

the screech barely gives you enough time to turn around before a body barrels straight into yours, knocking you clean to the ground. you laugh, grabbing their shoulders and wrestling them into the soft, clean grass. after a short but intense battle, you emerge victorious, grinning down at taehyung.

he beams up at you, wriggling his way out of your grip and pouncing on your back. you lift him up with ease, hoisting him higher, and he hums softly as you hike towards the group of familiar smiling faces.

"there you are!" hoseok chirps, his face bright. "we were wondering when you were going to arrive. taehyung-ah was about to cry."

"was not," he denies, burying his face in your shoulder. "he's just saying that to deflect! he was really worried when you were five minutes late. you'd think he was told you died or something."

"idiot, i told you not to say anything about that!"

you set taehyung down, but as soon as you lower yourself to join the group, he's practically on top of you, nibbling on your shoulder when you aren't looking. you don't notice, too busy yapping away with changbin next to you about the beat of the new song he's producing for an assessment. namjoon takes taehyung's shoulder and guides him away before you play-fight him for ruining your jacket with bite marks.

taehyung isn't so fussed about it – not like he usually is. he frowns, staring at your side profile, and leans in towards namjoon, whose brows are knitted in concentration as he leans over a mid-size canvas. he's filling in the park and city views as a charcoal piece.

"hyung," he whispers urgently, "he's nervous."

namjoon cocks a brow. he matches taehyung's volume. "nervous?"

"well, i don't know... fear, maybe? it's, like..." he scrunches his nose, snapping his fingers in irritation. "stress? i dunno, it's a little sweet, too... it's like when you're a kid and want to go on the biggest roller coaster at the park."

"are you sure?" you couldn't look more relaxed, but taehyung's never one to lie. "ask him."

taehyung clings to your arm. his features are pinched with concern, brown eyes huge and glimmering with worry. "hyung? hyungie? are you okay?"

you glance down at him, breaking off your conversation about how to incorporate baroque conventions into a modern piece. "hm? what are you talking about?"

"you're worried," he whispers, which catches changbin's attention. hoseok peers over, half of a daisy crown coming together in his lap. "you're never worried. you know you can talk to us about anything, right?"

he rests his head against your shoulder, peering up at you with massive eyes. you shove down the spike in your heartbeat. "no, i'm not," you chuckle, trying – very desperately – to sound confused. "i'm fine, taetae. maybe you're picking up changbin-ah? he's scrapped his draft four times."

"it's true. i'm losing my mind," he supplies.

taehyung shakes his head insistently. "no, it's you! what's wrong? you can tell us. is it a love problem? i give great love advice."

"but you're single," changbin ponders aloud.

"which makes my advice even better, since i'm not blinded by rose-tinted glasses." he sniffs, affronted. "you'd also give you good advice."

"hey!"

"if you're worried, we're worried," taehyung declares, firmly grabbing your shoulders with an intense look in his eyes. "what's going on?"

"it's nothing, taehyung, don't worry yourself."

namjoon's eyes widen slightly. "it's nothing? so there is a thing that's upsetting you?"

changbin leans forward with furrowed brows. he peels away the collar of your shirt, revealing the thick leather band.

hoseok gasps, eyes growing as huge as saucers. taehyung grabs your jacket and yanks it down around your biceps, ignoring your soft growl of warning.

"who did this?" he demands, and namjoon leans around him to take a look. his charcoal stick slips from his fingers onto his canvas, making a small dark mark.

shit.

you scoff at the grass, ripping blades out of the soft dirt. "i got into a fight with a vampire," you mutter. "he was hungry, or something. when i came to, this thing was on me. you shouldn't touch it," you say quickly, pulling taehyung's hands down. "it's silver."

"it's burning you," hoseok states worriedly, shifting closer. they crowd around you, tilting your head away to get a better look at the thing. your cheeks burn with heat. "does it hurt much? i could call jin-hyung! he's got those big tailor scissors – i bet they'd cut through this."

"and be indebted to a vampire? no way," taehyung scoffs, tentatively poking the silver detailing punched into the leather. he flinches back and rubs his fingertips together. "this is why we don't fraternise with them, hyung! they're mean and treat everyone else like walking blood bags. that parasite probably thinks he won that fight. quick, everyone, let's help get this off of him!"

—

"what are you wearing?"

you startle, hackles rising as you spin on your heel. the vampire lowers his crossed arms, his hip leaning back against the stone kitchen counter. his gaze is heavy, suspicious, staking you in place – you resist the urge to whimper apologies.

"jungkook." you lick your lips. your throat is dry. "what are you doing in my house? how did you even get in here?"

 "your house?" he scoffs, drumming his fingers rhythmically against the white stone. his fingers glitter with jewels. "this little shack is mine. an altar, so to speak – you worship me here, tuck away pieces of me as a keepsake when you think i'm not aware."

he saunters towards the entrance of your apartment, stopping just shy of you. his gaze trails down your neck, your chest, your belt. it flickers back up to your neck, and you shift uncomfortably, trying to shoulder your jacket into closing up at the throat.

"why else would i be able to stand here alone, awaiting my little puppy in the place he calls home?" he murmurs, reaching up and flicking his fingers. your throat bobs, bare and naked. he hums softly, drawing his hand away, and the collar slips back over the soft skin. "you've made this place mine. i feel it in the air, in the wood knots of your furniture. you're such a gift," he chuckles softly, tracing your cheek, "so sweet and giving..."

your heart pounds against your ribcage, raw and red. your chest tightens as he slides his fingers around your neck, jewellery cold and hard against your skin. you shrink into the back of the front door, but he follows – a beautiful ghoul, skin pale as ivory but with lips as red as blood. he knows the direction of your eyes and those lips curve upwards, baring white fangs too big and cruel for his pretty face.

"but i... but i bought it," you whine softly, unable to say anything cleverer.

jungkook ghosts his lips over your jaw, tilting up to catch your earlobe between his teeth. his other hand cups your ribs, slowly creeping towards your spine like a vine.

"oh, silly puppy," he admonishes with condescending sickly-sweetness. his fingers trace the vertebrae of your spine. "do you think that i'm bound by measly human rules? me? i ruled over men like you, dog. they fought each other with teeth and nails to warm my bed, to feed me, to robe me after my baths. time has passed since then, but all you pretty things remain the same: stupid, tiny, worthless."

his grip tightens, sharp nails digging into your jugular. his eyes flash as his mouth curls into a sneer. "can't even obey a simple command... it required the absence of action, and yet you still couldn't manage it. where is it, mutt?"

"j-jungkook—"

"silence." his fangs trace your artery, pressing ever so slightly to the soft skin. he moans, able to feel the rapid pump of your heart pulsing through it. "i asked where. not for excuses."

with your head tipped back against the front door, you fumble with your jacket, pulling out the leather collar. your hands shake as you offer it, the heavy silver buckle at the back still in one piece. it's the leather that's broken, torn against the grain like a piece of paper. the heart-shaped tag clinks with your trembles.

gently, he picks it up, running his thumb over the tag with his name on it, and relishes in the slight sting the silver courses through his black veins. a heart-shaped abrasion mars the hollow of your throat, a shade or two too red. it's warm to the touch, like a burn.

it won't scar, but jungkook wishes it would. you look so lovely with his initials emblazoned on your skin.

he doesn't say anything for a long while. he turns the collar over in his hands. you remain still, tense as a rabbit under a wolf.

what does it say about you when you are no longer the wolf of the wilds, strongest of his pack?

"it's alright, my dear," he murmurs, tossing the collar aside on a small round table next to the door. "i know you would never do such a thing. it's just a piece of leather and metal, after all."

your shoulders slump. your lips part and a ripple of a whisper escapes them. "but... it's not just leather and metal..."

"hm? speak up, pup. i didn't quite catch that."

this motherfucker...

you swallow around the nervousness in your throat, lifting your chin. you haven't quite managed to look him in the eyes this time. "it's not just leather and metal to me."

"oh?" he smiles pleasantly, cosying up to you and draping his arm over your shoulder. his other hand traces your ribs, stopping over your heart. he taps it with one pointed nail and his eyes flicker up to you coyly. "then what is it, my dear?"

"i kind of... i liked it," you whisper shamefully, staring at your feet. you have to turn your head aside to avoid jungkook's searching gaze. "i want to belong to you. feels right to. after that night... my whole life belongs to you."

he looses a breath, tipping your chin towards him with one soft-palmed hand. "you're mine, then? my little guard dog?"

you find yourself nodding harder than intended, a deep yearning in your soul pulling you towards him. at the sight, jungkook's soft smile grows cocky, and he chuckles.

"very well, my puppy. i'll make another for you and you can wear it everywhere you go, reminded of me with every step and jostle." he seems satisfied at that. he stares up at you through his lashes, expectant. "well, what do you say?"

"thank you." it rushes out in a single exhalation. you want to throw yourself on him, smother him in your scent, mark him as yours as he hasn't let you before. maybe he'll make you his; your heart flutters. "th-thank you, thank you. i'm – i've never wanted anything more."

"mmhm. you should try harder to stop them from taking it off of you next time. i'm disappointed you didn't hide it better. but," he interrupts, "what really matters isn't what it is. it's what it represents. do you understand that, mutt?"

you nod, staring at his lips. the bulge in your pants is getting hard to ignore.

"hm." he smiles. "liar. that collar lets it be known that you surrender all that you were to me, puppy, and it shows everyone just how devoted you are to me. you're not yn; you're not a leader." his fingers tug at your belt, and it comes loose in one fell swoop. "you're only mine. my good puppy. repeat that to me."

"you're – i'm only yours," you gasp, your brain gradually growing heavier the longer you stare into his piercing, hypnotising eyes, smoky and crimson. his pupils are fuller than usual – a full moon, but black as deep space.

you feel your head swimming. keeping your eyes on his is the easy part – everything else seems to blur, straight lines fluttering like heatwaves over asphalt roads. he traces your lips with his thumb and his own tick upwards when you lean into his touch.

"that's right." he presses his chest to yours, slipping his thumb between your lips – you groan softly as his thumb rides the ridges of your teeth. he smirks, kissing the corner of your mouth. you pant softly, twisting a fist in his shirt. "your teeth are so small," he giggles, his own sharp fangs flashing in the light, "so flat and dull. you really are helpless outside of the week of a full moon. that just won't do."

his nails dig into the sensitive skin just behind the corner of your jaw. his eyes narrow. "make yourself pretty in the bedroom. i must... prepare."

he's a killer, you think vaguely while you obey, moving slow and silent, in a haze. you watch your hands travel up behind your head, pulling the cotton nape of your shirt over your head. you move to your shoes, your pants. he's a killer and you can't fight it, not even if you wanted to – the urge to obey him is hot under your skin, thrumming with power.

you feel yourself lower to the ground, the floors cold and hard under your knees. the room is colder than you usually like it and the bedsheets are untucked, pillows tossed about haphazardly.

you swallow, returning your gaze to the floor. your heart hammers. he'd slept in your bed, mingling his scent with your sheets – his gentle vanilla shampoo, his enhungering natural danger. you can smell it: a sweet tug at the back of your mind, like an instinct to turn around after spotting something eye-catching in passing.

you shouldn't be here, on your knees with your breath held for a man who only cares about what you can give him. you shouldn't be a servant in your own home.

but you can't stop coming back to him. the little taehyung in your head tells you to walk away and forget all about him because vampires can't be trusted not to run with a pair of scissors, let alone care for another person beyond anything skin-deep. they're solitary creatures by nature, and nothing lives for half as long as they do – why does anything beyond themselves matter if it dies in a breath?

but you can't stop coming back to him. it almost makes you angry. bitter. but every time he looks at you with eyes just a little softer, every time he tells you charming stories about his youth, you manage to trick yourself into thinking that maybe – just maybe – you could be what he thinks he's never needed.

"mm, that's what i love to see."

his soft voice echoes in your head. you glance up as he nudges the bedroom door shut. he wears a pair of short black gloves, the edge curving towards his knuckles in a convex arc. he spins a short silver dagger between his fingers like a drumstick, twirling and folding and flipping, and you're mesmerised.

"would you like to have a look at it?" he asks gently, stepping closer. he perches on the end of the bed, guiding your head to rest against his thigh, and strokes your hair as he brings it closer for your inspection.

you reach out to touch it. he tilts it away. "ah-ah, love. it's silvered. that's why i'm wearing these gloves."

"where'd you get it?" you murmur. mortality is a sensitive topic for him – you wouldn't have thought he'd keep something that can kill him so close.

he brushes your hair from your face, flipping the blade lengthwise in his palm to show you the intricate carvings of the wooden handle and cross-guard. a relief of a woman is imprinted into the handle on either side. "winter, seventeen-eighteen. i liked to travel. this thing stuck me right here."

he touches a finger to your back, below the shoulder blades and between the ribs. "isn't it strange how something so small and pretty tried to end me? it's like a sparrow kicking a buffalo and hoping it dies."

"it's pretty," you agree, resting your cheek against his thigh. you gaze up at him. "but... why are you showing this to me?"

he only smiles. "get on the bed and lay on your back."

you do. in a heartbeat. he could kill you right then and there. you don't care – or maybe you do.

you don't know anything, not really. with him, everything is measured in infinites and uncertainties. jungkook glows like the moon, bright and good, kissing a well-worn path down your chest and stomach, and you close your eyes to the feeling of his cool touch gliding down your sides.

he lifts himself to your lips, allowing you to initiate the kiss – he hums, settling his naked weight on top of you. had he always been bare?

"this dagger pierced me here," he whispers, placing his hand over your heart between the third and fourth ribs. he licks his lips, feeling it pound like a drum. "it went all the way through. but when i opened my eyes, i saw the moon and all her stars through the treetops, and i knew then that i was meant for bigger things."

he reaches down with a coy smile, wrapping his fingers around you boldly. "maybe this is it."

your voice gets left behind in the anticipation, rushing and tingly. his palm slides over your tip and up your stomach.

"since then, i've felt... different," he says softly. "i found no pleasure in the chase – only their little deaths. life was boring now that i knew they could not touch me in ways that mattered. but then i found you, tiny and wounded, and when you looked up at me with fire and blood i wondered if i'd been going about it all wrong."

he slams the dagger straight through your headboard, inches from your face – the wood splits – you flinch away and a strange choked moan escapes your throat.

"you were special." he slides his cock against yours and lowers a hand to angle you against his hole. the other hand tightens around your wrist, pinned to the mattress. "you made me want again. you shouldn't have – you were just another little bug who bit off more than he could chew. you should've made me smile in pity. but you were still baring your teeth, leaning towards me even though you couldn't walk by yourself, and you made me want to be wanted."

he presses the tip of your cock into his ass and throws his head back, moaning breathily as he sinks down on it and rolls his hips.

you resist the urge to buck up into him – your head falls back to the pillows. he dips his head into the crook of your neck, laving the soft skin with his hot kisses and sharp white fangs. he rocks his body: back and forth, tight circles. he writes his name with his hips and smiles when you whine for him, strong thighs tensing under him.

he shifts on his knees and bounces on your cock – harder, rougher, skin slapping obscenely. he leans back, staring down at you with crimson eyes. his cock bumps against his stomach and he wraps his thin fingers around it, smirking as your gaze flickers down to it. he swipes the precum across his tip with a louder moan than all the rest, pumping himself in time with his bounces.

your head falls back and you close your eyes to the sound of his pleasure. in this moment, as his sharpened nails rake stinging lines down your chest and stomach, you are nothing – nothing but a toy, a temporary trinket. your tongue drags over your lower lip and jungkook's gaze snaps to it.

he leans in, his hips slowing. he tucks his clawlike nail against your lips, drawing the bottom one back, and lets it snap back against your teeth. a smile creeps slowly across his features as you gaze up at him, glass-eyed, your heart pounding in your ribcage as your cock twitches in his tight heat.

it's so strange, you think vaguely, that his skin is cold but his core is not. perhaps he is a god, carrying the heart of a star in that doll-like hollow of his chest.

your arms flex above your head. you want to touch; it's in your nature. like a fire, you're entranced by the devastation such beauty can create – and, like a fire, you can't help but sift your fingers through the dancing flames, teasing burns for the heat and adrenaline. there's only so far you can press before something bites back, but you'd take anything jungkook gives.

you call yourself his, and he kisses your eyelids.

"good puppy," he whispers, fingers digging into your jaw. he rushes in, conquering your lips without regard, and you groan into it, gliding your tongue against his as he cages your hips between his thick thighs and forces them still.

his love is magnetic. he sits back with a breathy moan, licking his lips. a thin trickle of your blood stains the corner of his mouth, and a twitch of your own tongue brings the smooth-edged nick to the front of your mind.

his eyes blaze with demoniac intensity – not quite fury, not just lust. it is a pure, base need, like the look of a starved man presented with a banquet. he bounces quicker on your cock, baring those too-big teeth with a morbid sensuality, sharp white points glistening under the swipe of a scarlet tongue. you whine his name, half-swallowed whimpers knocked out of your lungs.

"stop breathing like that," he hisses, accentuating that word with a drop of his ass that has you recoiling, halfway to pain. "you – your heart – it's so fucking loud," he growls. "nngh, shut up shut up shut up—"

your cock burns inside of him. he squeezes his eyes shut, pushing his fingers against your bleeding lips until his palm finds purchase around the shape of your jaw and muzzles you. your dull fingernails dig into the firm flesh of his thighs.

on one particular plunge of his hips, he clamps around you just as he travels the length of your cock, and it itches a nerve-deep restlessness in the back of your brain that has your eyes rolling briefly back and your cock erupting prematurely inside of him. you claw at his wrist, relearning the difference between your body and his. a strange noise escapes your chest, bubbling out of your throat and collecting a cry and a sob from the shallow of your mouth.

his eyes snap open, dazzling in their hell-flame glow. he looms in, throwing your hand off of his thigh and onto the bed by your head. his claws tear at the linens. he buries his face in your neck, so close that you can hear the churning sound of his tongue as it licks his teeth and lips.

the dark lashes flutter rapidly against the supersensitive skin of your throat as his shivering lips ghost over your collarbones and adam's apple. the cold tip of his nose brushes your skin with each heavy jolting drop of his hips. when you begin to whine louder, muffled, behind his palm, squirming as he milks you of everything you have, he doesn't say a thing to chastise you.

the hot breath on your neck is heavy and trembling. every part of him is plagued with the same shuddering animalistic lust. you don't doubt for a second that he can hear the dog shaking off in the yard across the street, or the simmering of the hot water tank next door.

amongst all of that white noise, he chooses you. you are the only one worthy of his full attention – the pounding of your heart reaches your ears, throbbing in your fingertips, pumping harder than ever to even attempt to keep pace with him. he presses his mouth to your artery, the hard dents of sharp teeth pushing torturously into your skin.

the message he didn't intend to send is clear. you are his toy, and he isn't teasing you – he's teasing himself. you can only close your eyes in languorous ecstasy, waiting – waiting with beating heart.

abruptly, he tugs his hips off of your cock, hissing softly as his thighs tense and untense. your cock falls to your stomach with a wet tap and your muscles relax with a judder, finally allowed some semblance of relief. your cum is smeared along your length, creating a frothy white right around your base, and it drips down jungkook's inner thigh behind his aching, swollen cock, on the cusp of a high.

nose buried in the side of your neck, he reaches up, groping for the headboard. his fingers wrap around the dagger and he wrenches it out of the thick wood, dusting the pillows with a fine wooden rain. he wipes the blade against the top edge of a distant pillow and lifts his lips from your throat, only to set the blade against the bulb of your throat. you gasp sharply and the knife rides against your throat as you gulp harshly, the sound echoing in your ears.

with a soft exhale, jungkook turns his red gaze over his shoulder, his hand sliding down and down until it finds your cock, gliding loosely over it until it finds the hot tip of it and guides it towards his ass again. you wince as the lapse of attention has the knife denting your skin. he rocks his hips backwards onto your dick.

"no..." you drawl out the whine, struggling weakly against his weight caging your hips. a sharp discomfort grows in your gut as he plays with your cock, handling it carelessly. "no more..."

he tightens his grip on your shaft, not sparing you a glance. the twisting curve of his spine, the lean angles of his body – it's like art.

jungkook hushes you absent-mindedly, like someone speaking to a panicking kitten. "quiet, little one..."

you're not little in any sense of the word. you lead your pack as their primary defender, their protector. he is more svelte than raw unbridled force, which you are – the reminder only makes it all the more humiliating, put at knifepoint of a man-shaped monster who weighs ninety pounds sopping wet and who you could throw with a good wind-up. how he's so light, you don't know, as dead vampires don't leave bodies to study, and no living – ha – vampire would ever degrade themselves by allowing medical students to poke around their innards.

despite this – fuck, you can barely think straight anymore, going off on such mental tangents – jungkook stares you down as if he's the most powerful man in the world, letting the head of your cock pop in and out of his slick asshole to see you squirm, lashes fluttering and tongue darting out to wet your parted lips.

there is a time and place for tears, but when all you can think about – all you have, all you can cup in your palms without breaking – is jungkook's pretty little waist, the shelf of his hips and ass, it's hard not to ruin and be ruined. you cannot control anything, but jungkook is holding your hand, and the illusion of being able to control more than whether or not to squeeze back is enough for you.

"i know, puppy, i know. it's okay. i've got you."

the faint burn of the silver has your cock jumping shamefully. the idea of your blood threatening to break the surface and how it would burn his attention on you like a brand... you might just die without any input from the dagger at all.

"y-you're gonna make me come again," you whisper hoarsely, still struggling futilely. "ah—!"

he sinks halfway down your cock without flinching. he angles the silvered blade against your jawline, black-gloved knuckles pressing against your chin. it stings a little sharper. "don't," he demands, and his voice is harder, more of a growl than spoken word. it softens, playing with meekness and pity. "come inside me one more time and i'll make sure you won't again."

his voice is low, almost a whisper, but it seems to cut through the air and ring around the room and in your skull, pulling a weak groan from your lips as your cock throbs, choked by the heat of his plush walls around you. he shifts his grip on the dagger.

you barely have time to respond before he drops his hips the rest of the way. his insides swallow your cock voraciously, his brows furrowing and ruby lips parting as he slams down on your hips without a care. his head thrown back in taut ecstasy, he fucks you until you've got his skin under your fingernails, raking them down his hips and thighs. the wet smack of skin on skin, the squelch of your cum fucked deeper inside his heat – you arch against the silver suddenly and the rocking of the bed slides it against your skin.

drip.

jungkook's eyes fly open as the scent hits his nose. he yanks the dagger to his pale chest, the lurid red smeared along one silvered edge commanding his attention. his hips move unsteadily, the tendons of the back of his hand tightening and shifting under his hand as he grips the dagger ever tighter.

in a lapse of control, he fucks himself with a powerful grind of his ass, and he drags his scarlet tongue along the edge of the blade, his hot breath fogging the silver. he moans, a sound fuelled by an undercurrent of a growl, and flips the dagger expertly, lapping up the blood on the other side.

his cock is red and heavy, arching in the cool air as precome bubbles persistently down his tip and shaft. it pools between the ridges of your stomach and you grip his thighs, eyes wide as you stare up at him and the way his long tongue curls around the dagger with blissed-out exaltation.

he parts with it unwillingly. licking his lips, as if to savour it, he places it delicately back in the shattered hole in the headboard he made earlier, pushing it in until the cross-guard refuses to let it any deeper. gently, he swipes his thumb over your brow, wicking away the sweat gathering there.

with a soft exhalation of breath, he yanks your head back and dives in to attach his lips to your flesh with a moan.

jungkook's tongue is rough, perhaps to better collect the blood oozing from a wound. it must not work well enough for him, for he snarls, pushing those slick white teeth against your throat and scraping against the bulb of your throat. the power behind his thrusts is enough to shatter a lesser man's pelvis, and you clutch onto him for dear life, arms wrapped tight around his tiny waist and firm back.

the bedframe shakes. his toes curl.

his cock is crushed between your bodies, but he doesn't seem to care, even as it throbs and leaks for attention. his ass ricochets roughly against your hips, unstable and rippling – his hot gummy walls clench and strangle your cock as if he wants to kill you.

heat death, big freeze. same thing.

you come. he loses control and his teeth breach your delicate skin. his razor-pointed nails pinch into your neck from the hand cupping the arch of the base of your skull, drawing beads of blood where each point meets your flesh. blood pumps rapidly against his fingers, the pulsating rush of your arteries and veins hot under the thin protection you have against him.

skin glistening with sweat, you spill inside of him, pulsing inside his hot depths as you thrust up against him, muscles bulging until they tremble. your cock pumps him full and searing and he moans into your skin, slurping up the hot metal blood gushing into his mouth with hollowed cheeks and starved, fervent passes of his tongue.

his grip around your wrist feels like a dog's jaw, sufficient to snap human bone. luckily for you – or unluckily, as others would say – you are far hardier than that, and the pressure is heavy, but not painful. weighed down by his body, riding you and swallowing you like nothing else matters, you feel like a chew toy, gnawed and bitten. it's your one purpose. it's your only purpose.

in the white-hot daze of your high, focussing on the pale red-lipped face above you is easier than knowing anything else. his eyes glimmer in the dim light, star that he is.

he's terrible. he's beautiful. your blood drips from his chin down the swan-like curve of his neck, his claws digging deep into your skin, denting the flesh – teasing his own strength. the words fall out like comets burning through the atmosphere.

"what did you just call me?"

his voice is soft yet booms around the bedroom, filling the space like no other can. you release a shaky breath, numb to the world outside of his touch, and shift your hands tentatively higher, cupping his ribcage like something sacred.

"god," you whisper, wanton and reverent. "you are a god."

his scarlet lips curl in a smirk. he gazes down at you, soft and sweet like a farmer to his dog. god? he says, slinking and burning his way down your body. his sharp eyes glitter and gloat, gazing up at you through dark lashes the whole effect is that of a blood moon through the winter-bare woods. there are a great many gods out there, little one. you're putting me in the pen with the likes of zeus and poseidon, manwhores with hundreds of children between them. you say i'm venus, so envious of a gorgeous mortal girl she sends her on impossible journeys in the hope that she dies. you, then, call me whore, that jealous bitch?

"no! please, you're everything," you cry, desperate to rid him of the distrustful twist to his mouth. he feels your heart leap. you cup his cheeks, riding your thumb along the edge of his lips and placing the gathered blood on his tongue. he hums in soft content, sucking softly and hollowing his cheeks, staring down at you to ensure you're watching.

you are. how could you do anything but?

"and?" he purrs. "what's your defence?"

"forgive me," you whisper, your throat bobbing. "you're my god. just one. just mine."

he only allows himself to react when you bury your face in his shoulder, unable to see the wild gleam in his eyes or the feral sharpness in his smile. he cups the back of your head, hushing you, and he runs his tongue over his lips, your taste lingering on his breath like poison.

he licks his teeth, the soft sound louder next to the blood pumping in your ears. sweat trickles down your temple, down your neck, and jungkook lunges in, drawing it onto his tongue with a shuddering keen like an animal.

"i'm your only one?" he whispers, a ripple in the wind. "i am your god?"

you nod into his shoulder, throbbing under your skin. something about him – something about you – is rawer, redder, tonight. like meat over the fire, blood on the snow. you want to get your hands inside him, prove your strength. your desire. you want to pierce deep inside him where that dagger could not and show him that you deserve to be there, that you can do what no one else can.

"such a sweet little lamb," jungkook croons, dancing his touch down the inside of your elbow. he seizes your wrist and you gasp softly. he brings it to his lips, warm and plump with blood. he kisses the pulsing veins, feeling your heartbeat quicken under his thumb as he bares his teeth and presses the points of his canines against the soft warm skin. "i hunger for your sweet libation."

rather than give, he takes – fangs piercing your wrist, he closes his lips around the wound and his eyes flutter shut, his blue-veined eyelids delicate and shifting as he moans, his body rolling atop yours with a renewed hunger. this hunger is slow, yawning, maw open to swallow and gulp. he opens his eyes, and the first thing they do is search for yours in the semidarkness.

maybe you're kidding yourself, that you would be the first thing he looks for when he opens his eyes in a dark room. it's a fantasy – a lovely little marigold dream – but you keep thinking of it anyway, keeping it alive in chains and a cage at the back of your mind like a circus animal a hundred years ago. sure, it hurts to keep because it scratches and bites, but it'd hurt more to get rid of something with so much promise. so much potential.

his throat bobs steadily as he drinks, opening his ruby eyes and freezing you in place. when the flow begins to slow, he growls, grabbing your bloodied throat with his other hand and yanking you up, forcing gravity to do its work. like this, closer to him, you watch as he cradles your wrist, tilting his head against the two neat little gashes in your wrist like a kiss.

watching him drink is another obsession altogether. after every swallow, his scarlet tongue peeks out, lapping at your skin before his rosy lips close over the wounds.

you cradle his cheek, brushing his lustrous dark hair from his face, and he twists naturally with it, leaning into it as he moans softly, caressing your wrist with suck stark gentleness that it gives you whiplash.

that half-dead animal limps out of its cage to heal in the river.

"you stare too much."

your eyes drop to his shoulder. he takes your chin and tilts it back up, capturing your gaze.

"i didn't say i didn't like it."

a shaky breath escapes you, puffing warmly against his shoulder, where you rest your head. he detaches himself from your wrist to tug on your hair, lifting your face.

he licks his bloodstained lips, redder than any lipstick. "keep looking, my dear. have you seen what you do to me?"

wordlessly, you nod, throat bobbing harshly as you glance aside at your wrist. the blood flows down the inside of your arm, twirling down the length of it to drip from the point of your elbow. you shudder as he places his lips on the two little wounds, lapping it up like a melting popsicle.

he locks his gaze with yours throughout it all, heavy as he moans softly against your skin. finally, he drags his tongue over the wounds, kissing them better. he lifts your arm slightly, lowering his lips near the bottom of your arm and licking a long, twirling line back up, tracing the trickles of blood.

he lowers your hand, tongue swiping over his teeth as he links his arms behind your neck. he lowers his lips to yours, gifting a soft, almost chaste kiss upon them. your blood is like steel and sweets.

his soft breaths puff against your cheek, hot and lazy as he presses your cheeks together, cradling the back of your head so that you may not escape.

"you still want me like an animal," he breathes, loosing a soft chuckle. he rolls his hips, moaning softly as you grip his side tighter. "my good little puppy... your blood is like wine."

you tilt your head, baring the other side of your throat – the one unmarred by his bite. you close your eyes, feeling his incisors nibble at the skin.

"you like the pain, do you, pup?" he digs his blunt fingers into the healing wounds on the other side, already closed over. you've always been a quick healer, even amongst your own kind. jungkook relishes in the half-strangled groan that judders through your body. "sh-shhh... you can hold me, if you'd like."

you seize the opportunity, wrapping both of your arms securely around his waist, fingers digging into his waist and shoulder. shifting him on your cock, still buried inside of him, makes him moan, and he tightens around you as he takes a deep breath of your scent, the sweat and musk marking you as something dangerously alive.

risen-dead as he is, he has no such scent. he wears perfumes of all kinds, but it's a shallow fix to the fact that he feels so obsessed with your engulfing arms because you smell like you have lived – the sweet grass you lay in, the crushed petals soaked into your jeans, the sweat after a chase.

it almost makes him... jealous.

his teeth pierce your skin. you gasp in pain – this time he's so much rougher, sinking his teeth deeper into your veins and nicking the artery. he lets out a trembling moan as the blood spurts into his mouth, and his throat works excitedly to gulp it all down, the churning sound of his tongue lapping it up and swallowing making you dizzy. his claws dig into the sensitive skin under your jaw, keeping your head away from your shoulder.

your lashes flutter and you gasp, clutching onto his bruised hip tighter, his ribs tight against the inner side of your elbow. he's forgotten to keep up the act of breath, and his still chest against yours is in perpetual forward motion, his hips rocking roughly as an afterthought to his greatest pleasure at your neck. he leans in, and the arm braced against the bed trembles under your combined weight.

forward, forward. he drinks and drinks. your strength fails you and you collapse to the bed, squirming as your vision blurs in crimson and white. your oil-slick blood is hot on your skin and jungkook laps at your throat with a starved growl, nosing at your jaw.

you've felt like this before, the lines of the bedroom swimming in your vision, swirling like marble. you clutch your god, whose body rocks languidly atop yours, and the sting of his tongue sliding against the oily blood leaking from your neck burns a thousand times brighter, flaring along your nerves to the tips of your fingers.

you come inside of him like a broken dam. his leaking cock follows suit, spilling all over your stomach and glazing it in white. his eyes roll back as he moans around the blood pouring down his gullet, sweet and thick.

when he opens his eyes – dark brown – and licks the wounds to seal them up temporarily, he realises, slowly, that your touch is bruising him.

his thoughts begin to pull themselves together out of the animalistic foggy haze. your warmth around him, in him, is addicting, clutching him close as if he's the only thing keeping you sane. he moans softly, arching into your touch.

"such a good boy for me," he whispers, milking your cock for all it's worth. you suck your lower lip between your teeth and bury your face in his shoulder, grinding up into his ass and pushing his hips down to meet yours. he sighs softly, stroking your cheek and jaw as you grow lax, panting shallowly. "that's it, darling. my sweet pup did so well."

you nod dazedly against his skin, a little dizzy with the praise – and the blood loss. "mm, th-thank you..."

his lips quirk up and he traces his fangs with his tongue. "so polite, too. your peers could learn a thing or two from you, love."

your heart flutters at the pet name, rolling off his tongue like rich wine. you pull him to your chest, tucking his face in the hollow of your throat, and roll over, pulling his calves over your thighs. you hold him like that, your bicep acting as his pillow and your other hand cradling the small of his back.

he lifts his eyes, gazing up at you with amusement. "you're covered in blood, puppy. you don't want to clean up?"

"i love you."

"that doesn't change anything," he murmurs, dark eyes the richest warmth you've ever known. "you're still messy."

"sorry."

jungkook sighs, able to recognise when he's fighting an uphill battle. your heartbeat remains quick and rabbiting, and he places his palm against it with a tiny smile he makes sure you cannot see. you're still up in the clouds, still replacing the blood he accepted from you, and you're groggy, cuddling him into your chest like a lover. he's certain it has something to do with the fact that you're still trying to court him.

he amuses you, playing along. it can't hurt to let you have this fantasy – after all, you've been so good for him, dropping that cocky edge the second he wants you between his legs. you play his game, so he'll play yours.

what a shame you haven't told him all the rules.

[puppyguppy]

You think he's come to kill you, to drink and fuck his fill, but no. He's come to claim you. 

That isn't to say he doesn't still fuck you, or devour you; and you're not sure which has you feeling closer to death, closer to damned. You feel spitroasted, between the six - maybe seven inches in one end, and the two or three inches in the other. The skin between your neck and your knees is on fire.

You beg for him -- not to stop, but just to put it out. As if he wasn't the source of the inferno in your veins. Still, he shushes you, soothes you with a kiss full of spit and blood, the touch just as cool in comparison to your spiking fever as the cum he fills you with; oddly refreshing, like an IV drip --

Drip.

Dream. Drop.

Through your sick-sort of sleep, you dream of a villain you'd once heard of, with metal in his mouth. But then the vision twists, and the metal is wrapped around a neck instead. A man made of moonlight and shadow, but with eyes that glow like a streak of sunset. Gold, to red, depending -- they'd been gold when he greeted you, when you let him in, but then red as he kissed you, killed you. You snap awake gasping, choking, not from a lack of air, but from too much of it. Your lungs feel full, expanded to their limits, stiff and gaping as you blink your bedroom back into your brain. Your neck itches, but when you squirm, it's just to realize that you're stuck. Pinned down by a hand in your hair, and a hand on your chest. Your fight and flight kicks in, and you're ready to bite, to scream and run --

He tuts above you.

Aizawa, as they call him. Shouta, as he let you call him. Your curse, his lover, your killer, his claim --

"Move too much and you'll only make it ugly."

You want to ask what. What will you make ugly. But then, through the pounding of your head (but not in your chest), you register a sliver of sunlight streaming in through your curtains. It's the soft, pale periwinkle of sunrise -- and it scalds perfectly across your neck like white, hot lightning. It sears your flesh, now that you're allergic to it; scarring across your throat until he forces you to roll over, like a goddamn rotisserie chicken. You hiss and cry into the pillows until he's finished with you, drawing the curtain closed only once you feel the circumference of your new, permanent collar connect across the nape of your neck. 

Because the bitemark wasn't enough?  Your throat hurts too much to give the question a voice; charred and scarred on the outside, parched on the inside. And yet, there’s something sort of like an answer that fills your head. It forms like TV static, a little sharp and fuzzy, a voice not your own, a laugh not your own. It makes your bones tingle and itch, like they’re stuck on standby, waiting for your brain to tell them what to do. Except, when you try to tell them to shift into a more comfortable position, they don’t. They don’t listen. And anxiety feels weird when not accompanied by a racing heart.

You feel him before you hear him, and then you hear him before you see him, and then when you finally, finally see him, it’s already too late. You know him. He’s made of the very same shadows, the very same moonlight, but there’s something…something softer about him. His eyes burn on you, inside of you, but pleasantly so – unlike the sun you’ll surely miss. The sun that’s surely burning at his back right now, if he’s really, truly the same. Same body language, same bags under his eyes, same strange scarf. A stranger, but already a comfortable guest amidst your stream of consciousness, whether welcome there or not.

He tells you to sleep.

That it’s still too early.

Sleep, you’ll feel better later.

Sleep, and then you’ll eat, you’ll drink, and you’ll be grateful that it’s Aizawa that’s claimed you.

Created you.

[stargirlrchive]

anissa, if you dont share your mean! dilf jake thoughts with the class🤔

sam ily so bad hello??

mean!dilf jake thoughts under the cut ! NSFW - MINORS DNI

content warnings: hc style, mean jake, p in v, afab!reader, marking/biting, thigh riding, slightly public sex (you’ll see), edging/orgasm denial/control (wtv u wanna call it), clit spanking (grrrrrr!), dacryphilia, aftercare ; i think that is all lol

this mf is possessive! but it’s so subtle (to you) you don’t even notice! 

marking/biting is something he’s so into, like he finds it so funny that you try to cover up his bite mark, or the way your face burns darker when you notice other people staring at the indentation 

AND HE WOULD BITE YOU IN THE SAME PLACE EVERY TIME (you love it even though you grumble about it)

he's always touching you, like he always has you on his lap, or wrapping his tail around your leg, hand on your neck etc

when he has you sitting on his lap (especially if you're joining in a meeting) he’ll purposely be shifting his legs under you, so he can lightly grind you against his thigh, just to see you squirm and try to hide how overwhelmed you’re getting. 

this mf is laughing in your ear, purposely dragging his fingers along your lower stomach or your thighs but won’t even bat an eye in your direction. going over plans for the next raid as if he’s not getting you off on his thigh

when he notices your unable to keep still he’ll pin your hips down with one of his big hands, keeping you from moving and his chest will literally puff at the pathetic little whimpers you’re trying to hide because you were so fucking close

then he’ll send you off, as is nothing happened and make you wait till the nighttime to finally get your fix

and he’ll keep edging you until you’re a crying mess

your hips are trying to grind into his hand and he’ll mumble over how greedy you’re being

“always trying to take more than what i’m giving you”

clit slaps (mhm!)

he’ll feel bad but then notices the way you tighten around his fingers and he gets over it pretty quickly

he’ll only slip the tip in and pin your hips to the floor as you try push him in deeper because it’s been hours and he still hasn’t let you cum 

he’ll tsk quietly trying to rile you up more, “think this is all you’re gonna get, honey.”

you’re whining and whimpering, hot tears falling down your face, your words all jumbled up together but he understands what you need

you’re so sensitive and you swallow him eagerly, your fluttering around him and soooo desperate but still trying to be so good for him he finally caves

he’ll be maneuvering you any which way he wants and he fucking loves it

you come pretty quickly because you’re so overstimulated and he’ll make sure to make up for it by getting another one out of you

almost always cums inside of you cause you both enjoy it, the first time you told him to do it he came so hard he swore he got dizzy 

aftercare goes fucking crazy 

it’s like a switch and he’s so fucking sweet, cleaning you up, making sure you’re hydrated, massaging your body to ease all the tension 

so many kisses and sweet words and praises 

“did s’good for me” 

“i love you!” like after every five words

makes sure you fall asleep before him, just trying to make sure you’re comfortable and pleased (you are)

lowkey feels bad the next day when he sees you wobbling around w sore legs so he’ll tell you to take a day off and tends to your every need! (as he should)

[babybatscreationsv2]

Bats I’ve got a somewhat-specific prompt for you, if you’re up for it:

-Starker. Dark non-con situation. Maybe mafia or kidnapping or whatever floats your boat.

-But it’s established relationship so the non-con has been going on for a while

-Peter is used to resisting /fighting back but today for the first time he doesn’t. In fact he actually asks Tony to slap/spank/hit/hurt him mid-fuck because it’s the only way Peter can get off anymore

-Tony mocks him mercilessly for this

It's finally done 🥰

Peter's back hit the bed hard forcing a gasp from his lips. Tony's weight dropped on top of him, pushing him down into the mattress. Those dark eyes staring down at him made his heart race. A hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing, pinning him down, while Tony kissed the side of his neck and kneed apart Peter's thighs. Peter whined, a high and pathetic sound, while he squirmed weakly beneath him.

"Are you tired today, sweetheart?" Tony's voice was mocking and amused. "You're barely putting up a fight."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to make himself move, but it felt so good. Tony's grip was crushing his wrist leaving a bruise that would last a week. His thigh was pressing too hard into his groin and the hickies he sucked into his neck were far from what anyone could call a 'love' bite. And he loved it. And he hated himself for loving it. Because this wasn't the first time Tony had taken advantage of him, but was the first time he'd given in.

Tears welled in his eyes and shame burned in his belly. He closed his eyes to hide from it all and Tony slapped him for it.

"Look at me, baby. You know the rules. You're gonna watch me violate you."

Peter stared up at him, mouth hanging open. He shivered at the way Tony grinned at him. That cruel smile made him so hard. It wasn't fair. He'd been brainwashed into it, it wasn't his fault.

Peter whimpered as Tony pushed his cock inside, always raw because he liked to watch the cum drip out of him. He was too practiced at taking cock. It didn't hurt like it used to. It almost turned him off. Then Tony hit him again, sighing blissfully as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Peter shivered in pleasure. Embarrassment curled under his skin with the way his legs spread without thought, like he was encouraging him.

"Who's my pretty little toy," Tony purred. He pushed in deeper and deeper. He almost seemed to pout when Peter only whimpered. "Where's all that mouth today? Don't tell me you've given up."

"No..." Peter's voice came out meek and terrified, but not for the reason he would have preferred.

"Doesn't matter. We're not really here for your feelings."

He always fucked him too hard, like he wanted every movement to hurt him and it did. But it only made Peter's cock throb and his pleasure build. It wasn't enough though. Desperation grew as Tony fucked him, hard and then slow, always dragging it out just to watch him cry. But Peter wasn't crying from the pain today.

"Please," he breathed.

"There you go, sweetheart," Tony cooed. "Let it out."

Peter sobbed. "Please... hit me," he said.

Tony paused. Dread gnawed at Peter's stomach. "What did you just say?"

"No..." Peter squeaked. Tony grabbed his jaw and forced him to meet his eye.

"Say that again," he said firmly.

"Please hit me," Peter whispered.

Tony's lips curled into a smile. "Is that why you're so quiet? I knew you were a slut. All this time you were just faking it weren't you?"

"No, I wasn't!" Tony slapped him and Peter gasped. He looked up at him, silent and horny and terrified.

"You can't lie to me anymore, sweetheart." Tony held him by the throat, slowly rolling his hips, pushing his cock in too deep, making Peter whine. "You like being abused don't you? That's fucked up, Peter."

"No..." Peter whined.

Tony only laughed and hit him again. Peter melted. He was in a haze, totally useless, couldn't do anything but moan while Tony hurt him. Fucking him however hard he wanted to, slapping his face, even punching him once. Peter just moaned, cock aching and hard against his belly. Tony wouldn't let him touch himself.

"If you like it when I hurt you so much, then you cum just like this can't you?" Tony said.

Peter cried and Tony pulled his hands away from his face, holding him down, leaning down and biting his neck. He tried to hold back, grasping that last thread of dignity, but it snapped. And he came from the pain as much as the humiliation of it all.

Tony kept fucking him through it even as he laughed against his skin. When Peter felt him cum, he relaxed thinking finally it was over, he was done. Tony would leave him alone now to cry in peace.

Instead Tony looked him in the eye and Peter found something cruel gleaming there. Then Tony wrapped a hand around Peter's cock and started to stroke him.

Peter whimpered and tried to push his hands away and was slapped again for it. Tony only moved his hand faster. Tony pinned him down as he squirmed.

"You're getting hard again, baby," Tony teased.

"No- no! Please it hurts-" Peter choked on air as he gasped. "Please stop!" He cried. He tried to escape the hand pinning him down. It never stopped being painful, but as Tony kept stroking him he felt another orgasm building. His voice rose with it, screaming now, terrified. And he had every reason to be because when he came the pain that hit before the pleasure was unbearable and then he was floating on an orgasm better than he'd ever known.

Tony let go of his cock and laughed, truly laughed. "Look at you. You're fucking broken, baby.”

[wavypotatochips]

hi, so it's the first time i send a request in your blog, found it the other day and literally love it. I saw that someone asked the other day a Sergio Ramos x reader were she says to him daddy but in a fluff way, so could you do it but in smut maybe? thanks and hope you okay <3

𝙎𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣? [𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉- 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙉𝙄] | 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙤 𝙍𝙖𝙢𝙤

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Sergio Ramos x Female Reader

Word Count : 2k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: Im so glad you enjoy my blog and im doing fine, thank you for asking!! Here's the NSFW version [: Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Due to finals, I have not been able to write as much as I usually do and I'm currently catching up on current requests because I'm a little behind. If you would like to send a request, do so now as after this weekend, request will be temporarily unavailable. mwah mwah love ya! ♥

You and Sergio have been living together for a few months now, and it's been nothing short of amazing. You both have your own quirks and habits, but you love each other more with every passing day.  Sergio is generally perceived as serious and even aggressive by most people, but in your company, he exhibits a playful and silly demeanor. While it's common knowledge that Sergio is someone who takes his work and responsibilities seriously and doesn't back away from a challenge, you are aware of a more tender side to him that he seldom displays to others. Witnessing him let his guard down and abandon the stern façade he usually wears is quite refreshing.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, you're lounging on the couch, reading a book when Sergio suddenly jumps out from behind the armchair and tackles you. You shriek with laughter as he pins you down. "You didn't see that coming, did you?" he says, grinning.

You giggle and squirm under his weight, trying to push him off. "Get off of me, you big oaf!" Sergio laughs and tickles you, making you wriggle even more. "Not until you say I'm so handsome and I'm the best boyfriend ever!" he says, still tickling you.

"Okay, okay, I'm so handsome and I’m the best boyfriend ever!" you say, still giggling.

Sergio laughs, shaking his head, and continues to tickle you. "You know that's not what I meant!"

You laugh even harder now, your side cramping and tears falling down your cheeks. "Okay, okay, please s-stop I can't breathe!" 

He smiles, finally stopping as he grabs your hands and pins them up above your head as you continue to chuckle softly, trying to regain your breath.

“Atta girl, just breathe slowly you got this,” he smiles as he looks down at you.

As he speaks, butterflies flutter in your stomach, and a warm blush spreads across your cheeks. Although you were already flushed from laughing earlier, you couldn't help the reaction he stirred in you. Perhaps he didn't even notice how his words affected you, lost in the moment. You bite your bottom lip playfully, deciding to tease Sergio a bit. "Thank you, Daddy," you say with a hint of mischief in your voice. 

You can see the surprise in his expression at the endearment you've used, realizing you've never called him that before. But something about the way the word rolls off your tongue ignites a fire within him that he didn't know existed. His jaw tightens, and his eyes seem to darken with desire. "Say that again," he demands, his voice low and husky.

You meet his gaze, pretending to be oblivious to his reaction. "Say what?" you ask, looking down at his lips before meeting his eyes again. "Daddy?" you say the word slowly, relishing in the effect it has on him. Sergio leans in closer to you, his breath warm on your face. "I like the way you say that," he whispers, his voice barely above a growl. "I wonder how it would sound hearing your pretty lips cry out while calling me that.” You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words, and your heart rate picks up as he whispers down at you. Stick to the plan….stick to the plan, you think to yourself.

The air between you is charged with electricity, and you can feel the tension building.

His grip of your wrist loosens up as you sit up. He leans down, his lips brush against yours. You kiss him, not being able to resist. As your lips meet, the world around you fades into the background, and all that remains is the taste of him on your tongue and the sensation of his arms around you. His kiss is soft and tender at first, but as the passion between you builds, it becomes more urgent, more insistent.

As soft pants escape his lips, he grabs your waist and pulls you towards him, indicating that he wants you to sit on his lip. As you straddle over him, you immediately press your lips against his. Your hands glide through his hair, drawing him closer to you, while his hands trace the curves of your body over your back. It's a blissful time, and you forget about everything else for a while, immersed in the heat of the moment. “I don't think you realized what you have done to me, Y/N,” Sergio mumbles against your lips as he grabs your ass, pulling you towards him so you can feel his bulge. You moan against his lips, becoming more turned on by the minute, yearning him to be inside you. And, based on the way you started rocking your hips back and forth on his lap, he knew precisely what you wanted as well. He pulls away from the kiss as he clutches your waist, causing you to stop moving and forming a frown on your face. "Tell Daddy exactly what you want, Y/N." Sergio's voice is demanding as he stares deeply into your eyes. You feel embarrassed, but hearing Sergio refer to himself as Daddy enlightened something inside you. You keep quiet out of humiliation, while knowing exactly what you desire. “Y/N… Say it," Sergio says. "I want you to fuck me," you say back. Sergio smirks but says nothing else, instead leaning back on the couch, "Oh yeah? "Show me how badly you want me," he teases.  You bite your bottom lip because you know exactly what he wants. You move off of him and kneel down between his legs, looking him in the eyes as you carefully untie the sweatpants he is wearing. You want to tease him for messing with you earlier and making you feel ashamed just moments before.

As you undo the strings, you grab the hem of his sweatpants and pull them down to his ankles with his assistance. His cock twitches with anticipation as you kiss the tip of his member through his boxers. He clenches his teeth slightly as he detects your unusually slow speed, "Y/N," he demands, "You don't want to start something you can't finish." And he was correct. You almost came before he even touched you the last time he teased you. You nod politely and take his boxers, slipping them down as well. His cock jumps out of his boxers, causing you to lick your lips. You are such a slut for him. As you place him in your mouth, you grab the base of his cock with one hand and begin to give him head by bobbing your head up and down. He sighs as he grips your hair, allowing you to maintain the steady pace you've established for yourself. After 30 seconds, your jaw starts to ache, but hearing Sergio's groans and murmured curse words fires you on enough to push through the pain. Both of your hands are wrapped around his cock, your head bobbing up and down, your tongue paying special attention to the tip of his cock. "F-Fuck Y/N," he groans softly as he pants. His grasp on the top of your head intensifies as he pulls back your hair to free you from him. "Ride me," he mumbles. You're panting as well, trying to ignore the pain in your jaw. "Yes, Daddy," you answer obediently as you remove your shorts, leaving only your lacy black panties on. You straddle him again, teasingly rubbing your barely covered pussy on his demanding dick, causing him to groan. He holds your jaw with one hand and pulls you towards him wanting to make out. You groan against his lips as you kiss him, enjoying how hungry he was acting as it made you want to devour him even more. While you two are kissing, he takes his hand away from your jaw and moves it to rest against your lower back, while his other hand moves your panties to the side. His fingers rubbed up and down your slit, two of them slipping inside and causing you to gasp against his lips. When you gasp, he is able to put his tongue into your mouth. As he curls his fingers inside of you, his tongue dances around with yours. You shake from the sensation and moan  against his lips, enjoying how he makes you feel. His fingers stray from your body as he quietly pants and pulls away from the kiss. He smirks as he sees his fingers sparkling with your juices as he gazes into your lust-filled, desire-filled eyes. He asks, "Now who made you this wet?," as he puts his fingers inside his mouth to rinse the secretions from them. As you observe the scene, you nip at your bottom lip. “You did, Daddy.” He taps your side and smirks once more, urging you to stand up.  You put some distance between the two of you. Before inserting it, he runs his tip along the inside of your slit. Then you start to recline on him, letting his cock into you more deeply and making a moaning sound. He takes his hands on your waist and lifts you up and down to bounce you on his cock before you have a chance to get used to his large, girthy size. As you place your hand on his chest and scream his name aloud, "S-Sergio!" you exclaim. He moans and tilts his head back. So that you may regain control, he stops bouncing you and says, "I'm sorry, my love." He says as he presses his lips back against yours, "You just feel so good around me. You give him a kiss in return and put your arms around his neck to intensify the kiss. You start to rock yourself back and forth whilst riding him as the kiss gets deeper. When you rub yourself up against him, you groan as you feel his member dig deeply into you. Sergio gives you about a minute to finish before he wants to take control again. You start to whimper as he grips you by the waist and elevates you high enough for his cock to emerge from you, but he speaks before you can react, "Turn around, my love."

You turn away from him, nod obediently, and spin around so that your back is now toward him. You take a squatting stance with your back against his chest while you get comfortable between his legs. In order to put distance between you and him, he softly pushes you. He then takes your sides and starts to help you thrust upward while you bounce up and down. You groan aloud as this position seems to be hitting harder than before. All that can be heard when he penetrates you is the moisture from your pussy gushing against his cock.  You whimper out, panting heavily, "I-If you continue I'm going to cum!" Sergio interprets this to mean that since you are about to have an orgasm , he should continue harder. You scream loudly from the pleasure as he makes a slow, powerful thrust, and unsurprisingly, you have an orgasm. He grunts as he does this. Your pussy clenches his cock firmly, forcing him to cum as well without any provocation. He has you in such a tight grasp that you might get bruised, but you don't mind since you enjoy it. He says, "F-Fuck," as you slump back against his chest. Your legs are still twitching as you pant heavily while keeping your eyes closed. Sergio lets you get off of him and helps you turn around so you can curl up next to him with what little energy he still has left. He leans down to kiss your forehead while still attempting to catch his breath.“I love you so much, my love. Just give me one moment and I'll get you all cleaned up, okay?” You incline your head slightly in his direction while nodding. You admire the way he treats you like a Queen while still fucking you like a slut. The perfect combination

[fandomsnfluff]

mammon & levi tk hcs!!

LOL i actually meant to post this way sooner but my mood has been dropping severely these past couple days and truth be told i'm not back at 100% yet but HERE I FINALLY AM!! i just couldn't help myself from making headcanons about these two, they're probably my favorite brother duo besides the twins 😭

of course, as always, reblogs are appreciated!! c:

( gif source )

i. think it's pretty safe to say we know who's most often the lee and who's most often the ler in this brother relationship LMAO

hint: the lee is levi and the ler is mammon xD

levi is probably mammon's favorite victim. there tends to be SOME kind of roadblock in the way that simultaneously stops mammon from going after one of his other brothers and takes the enjoyment away from tickling them instead. lucifer is...well, he's lucifer, he's terrifying, satan is also quite scary even if you're trying to get him to laugh, the way asmo reacts sometimes rubs mammon the wrong way, beel is way too easily distracted, and tickling belphie in his sleep usually doesn't work very well.

so that just leaves levi. but in all honesty, mammon isn't too mad about it. he finds his brother's reactions extremely humorous and absolutely adorable.

however, since levi tends to fight back both physically and with insults if not tired out enough, mammon decided that whenever he tickles levi, he has no choice but to completely pin his brother down and tickle him until he's crying and breathless and completely weakened. levi takes 5000 damage every time.

in general, though, it's not too difficult to get a rise out of levi at all. he's just so helplessly ticklish that he can't help but just lie there, shrieking with laughter and far too weak to fight back! and the fact that for some reason he's hypersensitive to mammon's touch doesn't help him in the slightest!

mammon merely wiggling his fingers at levi is enough to get him to react; he'll squirm and start giggling before mammon is remotely close enough to strike. mammon will hover over a sensitive spot, twirling his hands around and ever so gently wiggling his fingers against the air over a tickle zone to make his brother contort his body around and squeal and kick out in an attempt to get away! basic moral of the story is that ghost tickles are TORTURE to levi and they instantaneously make him go into panic mode.

it's also especially bad with mammon because he is THE TEASING KING. like seriously whenever he tickles some (especially levi) he alwAYS HAS TO GET VERBAL ABOUT IT. AND HE'LL DO IT WHILE HE'S TICKLING HIM LITERALLY TO DEATH, SPEAKING AS IF HE'S HAVING A CASUAL CONVERSATION WHILE HIS BROTHER HOWLS WITH LAUGHTER. SAVE HIM PLEASE.

"damn, you're still this sensitive, huh?" he teases as he kneads levi's sides, the otaku breathless with howling laughter as he attempts to curl in on himself.

"ooh, i know your feetsies are ticklish too!" he'll say in a goofy tone as he skitters his fingers along the undersides of levi's feet, making him cackle and kick out.

"oh, it'd be such a shame if i got you ... HERE!" he crows as he hovers over levi's stomach before squeezing against his pudge without warning, causing him to shriek with laughter.

"what about under the arms? oh yeah, he loves under the arms!" he'll chuckle as he digs into levi's pits, his laughter going silent as he rolls around helplessly on the ground.

so yeah, moral of the story, lots of teasing and lots of baby talk. and, as we see here, it works WONDERS on levi.

most of the time and after a lot of teasing, mammon will double over in his own laughter though, mainly because he'll end up hitting a bad spot and causing levi to give that hilariously adorable shrieking cackle.

mammon will utilize his secret weapon of verbal teasing as he rapid-fire tickles levi all over. he'll start by getting his sides, then switch to his stomach, then his underarms, then his neck, and even his inner thighs and parts of his knees! within a minute he'll complete the cycle and start all over again! he'll be rambling off like a boss giving instructions to new hires and other employees while his brother is busy screaming with laughter and attempting to weakly squirm away. it's just too damn funny.

levi also has some pudge around his abdomen, and mammon likes to teasingly squeeze it just to make him squeal with laughter. his baby bro makes the cutest giggles when his pudge is targeted!! so of course these miniature attacks tend to turn into large-scale ones where mammon gets at every weak point on his body!

honestly any time mammon finds himself hanging out with levi he has to tickle him in some way. teasing pokes to the sides while he's in the middle of a video game on a portable console? sneaky drags of the fingernails up the sides of his neck while he's watching a scary movie? random tickle attacks when they find themselves in a massive cuddle pile after an exhausting day? mammon is ready to give his brother tickles all day, every day. levi is not safe.

tickling levi until he cries kind of becomes a weekly occurrence in the house of lamentation. seriously levi screams so loud that it can be heard at every corner of the house. it might make asmo mess up a fingernail, cause lucifer to drop his pen on the ground, hell it might even wake belphie up on a good day.

WHICH IS GOOD BECAUSE MERCILESS TICKLES FOR ANY LONGER THAN A MINUTE WILL CAUSE LEVI TO SHRIEK LUCIFER'S NAME FOR HELP. IT WAS SOMETHING HE DID WHEN THEY WERE KIDS WHEN MAMMON WOULD JUST NOT STOP TICKLE-TORTURING HIM. LIKE I SAID BEFORE: PLEASE SAVE HIM.

mammon usually has to tickle levi when he's sitting up in his chair playing a video game, but every so often he'll threaten to get him before sneaking up on him which turns into this massive game of chase. and rip levi because mammon is canonically the fastest demon brother & apparently levi is not the fastest runner and is very out of shape so mammon will have his brother completely pinned in no time before merciless tickles are given to him all over.

levi is usually already laughing from the anticipation of getting tickles, but as soon as mammon gets him, he just. he just screams and gives the hell up. that's it. he'll probably lose his voice within a minute from how intense it is.

thankfully mammon only made levi laugh so hard he peed himself ONCE. JUST ONCE IN THEIR MULTI-THOUSAND YEARS OF LIVING. and as expected it was when they were basically kids and levi already kind had to go to the bathroom, and...yeah, you can probably work out the rest of the details yourself LMAO

but, despite mammon's multiple victories and levi's shyness preventing him from getting revenge just as easily...there have been times when the younger has gotten back at mammon! of course, levi's face is usually the complexion of a tomato when he even tries, but getting to hear his brother's laughter is enough of a reward for him. he KNOWS mammon can dish it out all he wants but can't take it for shit.

90% of the time levi won't seek revenge though, partly because he knows he'll get destroyed tenfold in return and partly because he's too shy to even try

he tends to take part when lucifer is tying up mammon as a punishment and "requests help" from his brothers, when it means just tickling mammon. because he didn't get his older brother in this position himself, he's much less awkward and in fact is more than happy to join the eldest in his sadistic quest.

there was also a point in time where levi had to wake up mammon very quickly, and the only way he could think of to do that was by rapidly tickling against the bottoms of his feet while yelling, "WAKE UP!" of course, poor mammon woke with a start, no idea what the hell was going on and quite a bit grumpy for a while after having been disturbed from his sleep with something like TICKLES, no less.

so yeah. basically, moral of the story is that these two are dorks and i love them and their tickle shenanigans give me a lot of happiness and joy. ruthless, teasy tickle monster mammon to adorable, blushy lee levi is fucking canon. i'm calling it now & there's nothing u can do about it >0>

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: BBU Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: Spider has been with her owner for some time

Rayce, pt2 [Prev | Next]

Brunch is excellent. The restaurant is open and spacious, warm wooden furnishings contrasted against the enormous glass front that lets in the light. Spider eats avocado toast with a knife and fork, cutting it into carefully geometric squares while smiling and nodding and giggling as Avon talks about his clients. 

He's very witty really, when he cares to make her laugh. 

The food is wonderful. The atmosphere is pleasant. The staff are polite, even to the Pet.

And all the while, excitement fizzes in her stomach. The arguments are forgotten, as is the leash looped securely round the table leg. She can't wait to get home. And for once Avon seems charmed by her impatience.

The driver takes them right to the front door. Avon unclips Spider's leash, but pauses with his hand on the door as he lets her out of the car. 

"Don't make a mess," he says. "If you think you're going to draw blood, do it on a tiled floor. Remember to take him to a bathroom sooner rather than later. Oh, and mind your fingers. I'm told he bites." "Yes, Sir." "Go on then," he allows with a smile. "Have fun."

He lets her out, and she practically skips up the steps to get back to her new prize.

Handler Rayce is exactly where she left him, except that he's managed to tip onto his side by squirming. He's crying, and the sight sends a full-body thrill across her skin.

Her domineering, powerful, unmovable Handler, who always had her in the palm of his hand, who made her heart race with fear, who withheld food and sleep and hygiene and relief from pain at a whim – her Handler reduced to messy, snotty crying around the bit between his teeth. 

It's no surprise. She would be quite unhappy after a couple of hours in that position, and she is much more flexible than Rayce.

He sees her in the door, and his eyes widen. Spider feels weak in the knees, almost queasy with thrill and desire and dread.

The collar, so normal on other Pets or her own reflection, looks so perverse around his neck. 

She crosses the carpet to fold to her knees in front of him. Respect, his voice whispers in her thoughts. His chest rises and falls with tiny, rapid breaths, trying not to put any more strain on his shoulders.

Spider cups his cheek with a hand. It's sticky – nearly slick – with tears and drool. "Hello, Handler," she breathes. "I missed you." He makes an inarticulate noise in his throat, garbled by the plastic bar across his tongue. 

On a whim, Spider leans down and kisses him, her lips soft against his stretched taut by the gag.

If she unchains him, will he be weak enough that she is safe from him? Or will he flip her, pin her to the floor, and twist her joints until she cries and promises to behave?

Remembering the warning, she's careful to keep her fingers away from his teeth as she unbuckles the gag at the back of his head. 

The bit falls from his mouth and he works his jaw weakly, trying to ease the pain from the muscles. There are deep, bleeding sores at the corners of his mouth. He must have spent a lot of time gagged – Spider supposes that's what happens if you bite your handlers.

"H-hhelp - me -?" he rasps pitifully.

Power thrills through Spider's stomach, a tingle in her core so intense it's uncomfortable. 

He thinks she's a potential ally.

She can't wait to strip him of that delusion.

But… Avon told her to take him to the bathroom first. And that will be much easier if he cooperates. In her daydreams, she didn't think about how much heavier he is than her. 

"I will, Handler," she promises softly, cupping his snotty cheek again. "I'm here."

She has the key to the cuffs tucked under her clothes. It's warm from resting against her skin. His hands and feet are purple and a little swollen, and the metal bites deeply into the flesh.

He twitches and makes hoarse sounds of protest at her touch. He isn't well trained. She isn't sure if she's excited or disappointed. She wanted to tell him what to do and be obeyed. But at the same time… would he still be her Handler if they'd trained him better?

It's difficult to pry the cuff off his ankle, more difficult than it was to get it on. "Shhh," she soothes, "I'm helping, I'm sorry it hurts."

When she gets it loose, all the tension of his bowed body abruptly loads onto the remaining cuff. Rayce groans loudly, sounding on the verge of panic. His freed limbs flail weakly, trying to find purchase on the floor. His eyes are wild and unfocused.

"Handler?" Spider wavers, voice sweet as sugar, as she sits back on her heels to watch him squirm. He’s too drugged to see the avaricious intent in her gaze. "What should I do, sir?"

He's gasping too much to answer promptly. Spider did this. She made him hurt. She made him afraid.

"Help me," he manages to force out again. "Hhelp – get me – get me out of –"

Another moan interrupts his words as Spider takes hold of the remaining pair of cuffs. She can't resist tugging a little more than she has to as she sets him free. 

This, this is power.

Handler Rayce groans through the painful return of his limbs to neutral positions, then finally goes limp, face down on the floor. Spider leans over him to unlock the trailing cuffs from his wrists. His purpled fingers don't even twitch.

On an impulse, she takes one of his hands in hers. Rayce makes small sounds as his shoulder and elbow move, but he's very passive with the drugs still in his system. His eyes are all pupil. 

At first, still numb, he doesn't react to Spider's fingers rubbing circles on the palm of his hand. Then, as sensation starts to return, he tries to twitch away. 

Spider is intimately familiar with the pins and needles that follow restricted circulation. After a couple of hours like this, it won't be just a tingle or a prickle. It will truly feel like needles and pins stabbing into the skin over and over, accompanied by a deep and fiery ache. 

And every touch and movement makes it sharper. 

"A-ah - nnh - hurts -" Rayce protests. "Don't worry," Spider promises, "I'll make it better, sir." And she is. The pain will be more intense in the moment, but it will also be over sooner. "Nno," slurs her Handler, "Llleave't alone…" Bad Pet, Spider thinks. 'No' isn't a part of your vocabulary. "I'm sorry, sir," she lies with a smile, "I can't understand you."

Massage was a part of her training – for any part of the body. Ordinarily she would focus on the muscles – the meat of the thumb and the narrow, difficult muscles between the long bones of the palm. 

For this little spiteful massage she focuses her attention mostly on the sensitive pads of the fingers and the ball of the hand. 

Rayce twitches and whines and protests until finally the sensation flips from painful to pleasant and he relaxes with a soft, drawn-out moan. So Spider takes his other hand -- still burning – and is rewarded with more helpless complaints.

But the fun can't last forever. Spider checks Rayce’s feet to make sure they too have returned to a more normal colour, then tries to help him to the bathroom.

He can barely stand, and she can't really take his weight when he falls against her. They stumble their way clumsily through the house leaning on walls and pausing often, until eventually she gets him into the downstairs bathroom and can let him collapse onto the tiles. 

He needs telling several times before he understands to use the toilet, and Spider has to help him up onto it. She turns her back, and hopes he manages without making a mess – or falling and cracking his skull.

She’ll have to help him wash. That might be fun, actually. Suddenly, achingly, with a flutter in her chest, she misses the feel of his skin on hers.

And she wants to know if his body will still respond to the sight of her.

[Next]

[pearlzier]

"What did I say about being bad?" He just about hissed as his hand came down onto the pinkening flesh of yours. You could only squeal. The electric feeling from his hand on your ass went straight down and pooled between your thighs. This wasn't a punishment, not by your standards.

"Please, I'm.. I'm-- ah!" You yelped as another smack landed, before his hand rubbed the sore skin. "You're what, sorry?" He scoffed, clicking his tongue as you nodded. But in reality, you weren't sorry. Not in the slightest. "Little too late for that, sweet girl.. don't make me make you count."

You shut your mouth real quick at that. Counting has always failed you and you had learned from experience that you do *not* want him to start over. "Teasing me in public.." Smack. ".. letting those other guys flirt.." Smack. ".. when you know damn well.." Smack. ".. you're mine." He soothed the red once more as you cried out, the pain mixing into pleasure. You looked like you were about to cry, and it was adorable. Well, to him, of course.

"Now you can't take the consequences of your actions? Poor thing." He murmured, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. "You're being good now, huh? Think it might earn you a reward?" He teased the damp fabric of your panties, before grabbing them and ripping them at their hem. When you complained, he only laughed. "I'll buy you new ones.." He comforted as he eased the ripped shreds of the once simple underwear off your thighs.

"So wet for me, baby.. you liked it, huh?" He let his thumb bury itself between your wet folds, not yet pushing it in as it just went up and down like a slide. "Oh my god.. y-- yeah, yes.. I did.." You whimpered, feeling the pad of his thumb press down on the bundle of nerves that was just slightly hooded. ".. right there-- goddammit, right there.."

"I know, I know.." He soothed as his thumb made small, tight circles around the little nub. "Don't expect anything quickly, sweetheart.. I'm just getting started with you. You think you can pull that stunt and just.. get what you want so easily? Think again."

You didn't know what was about to happen, but all you did know was you were not gonna be cumming for a long time. And the thought both terrified and aroused you. "Please-- god, please!" You already felt your thighs start to tremble, the warm heat that was pooling in your stomach start to drop lower.. and lower.. and-- it was gone. He had stopped. Of course he had.

"Ah-bup-bup-bup-bup.." He chuckled, licking the remnants of you off his finger. "Told you, gorgeous. You wanna act like a brat, you're gonna get treated like one." He held you in place as you squirmed in frustration, waiting for you to come down from that close peak before starting again. The same slow, tight circles that you were sure were gonna drive you insane. You could physically feel your sanity deteriorating by the second.

"Mean.. so mean.." You blabbed. It was the only thing you could string together, being bent over his lap with your legs spread and hands pinned down. "Me, mean?" He chuckled. "What about you, sweetheart? You were cruel, just cruel.." With those words, you almost didn't notice his hand that once served to pin your hands down was now cupping your boob. Almost.

His first two fingers rubbed over it slowly, before pinching the nipple and rolling it between them. When you practically cried out, he grinned. "So sensitive.." He hummed to himself and you could've just.. sobbed right then and there. You were so close to crashing down, and yet his hand that was working down under stopped only to grab your other breast and do the same motion. "Wanna see if I can get you over the edge with just these, baby.. then it wouldn't be as satisfying, huh?" He soothed the buds by rubbing them and you could, once again, feel yourself getting closer.

"I was planning on rewarding you today.. but you just couldn't have been good for one more night, could you? So impatient.." He murmured. "These are my new two favourite things.."

"Please.." You whimpered, although you weren't sure if you were begging him to stop or to continue. You wanted it to stop, because it was just enough stimulation to keep you waiting but not enough to get you over the edge. But you wanted it to continue, because this might be your only chance to cum tonight.

"Please? You wanna beg for more?" He pinched and rolled once more, both at the same time. "Go ahead. If you beg pretty enough, maybe I'll have some mercy."

then I didn't know what else to write.. also no names because i wanted to be able to interpret it as whoever I felt like

OH MY GOD ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IM. i need resuscitation im fucking dying this is SO GOOD WAAAA oh my god. hyperventilating ejaculating perspiring ur writing is jus. AAAAAAAA imsbdhvedvajshgdwbaiegevdbdvsvjsdgv conginue to send anythimg u write im begging

[sociieties]

@peachmuses: 5tt mako was glad he went w tatsu in Bad Ending.

i. if makoto's emotions are in enough of a mess, his general health tanks. as it goes to stand, a piss poor immune system and being in a new country do not mix. after stepping foot in the states, makoto spent a grand total of three days without catching some illness -- afterwards, he spends a grand total of four months, sixteen days, and five hours being sick. ( first it was a cold / then the flu / pneumonia / some cold or the flu / then bronchitis. he has shit luck. ) when he's no longer sick, it's december. when he's no longer sick, tatsuya returns to him. ( despite the holidays / despite the pr he'd usually be getting / despite the fact that tatsuya should be with his team to play on christmas, tatsuya comes home and spends the rest of the month with makoto. ) makoto asks him why, tatsuya tells him that he'd rather be home. like this, neither of them spend their time alone, but together, like the friends they used to be before the entire shuuzou thing.

in the states / in december, when makoto isn't sick and him and tatsuya aren't arguing about things that no longer matter, makoto finally feels at peace. here and now, drama doesn't exist. kazuya is but a distant memory / what happened with him and that one professor doesn't exist. tatsuya and makoto both pretend that nothing ever happened with shuuzou and that neither of them wish they'd rather be back home with their friends. after chistmas, just past midnight, tatsuya jokingly kisses makoto and when makoto looks at him, tatsuya points towards the mistletoe they'd happen to walk under. tradition, tatsuya explains. makoto laughs so hard he falls into a coughing fit.

had he stayed back home, makoto knows it'd be months, or even years before he could laugh like this. ( he completely ignores how the night ended with tatsuya apparently carrying him back home after he'd passed out from a sudden fever. )

ii. makoto's squirming underneath tatsuya, pinned down to the couch as tatsuya tries force feeding him some old mother's concoction of pain medicine, cough medicine, and soup. it's july and as kazuya and shuuzou's birthdays rolled around, makoto had started complaining about his chest hurting and began coughing, leading tatsuya to believe that makoto had gotten sick again. this was his solution to the problem / only makoto manages to kick tatsuya off of him after struggling violently. the soup falls onto the floor and makoto pulls himself off of the couch, staring down at tatsuya, who's staring up at him like he's lost his mind and makoto slowly shrugs.

" if you're that worried, i'll go to the doctor tomorrow, " makoto explains quietly, hand stretched out to help tatsuya off of the ground.

tatsuya takes his hand and when he's halfway off the ground, he yanks his arm back and pulls makoto onto the ground with him. makoto, betrayed, gasps as he hits the ground / tatsuya smiles and laughs as he wraps arms around makoto. " good, " tatsuya begins, " because if you get me sick, i'm gonna be pissed. "

makoto falls silent, staring at him with wide eyes. " i hate you. "

" sure you do. "

" i hate that you care. " makoto feels like crying. " if i stayed back in ja-- "

" you didn't. you came back with me. i'm gonna care. "

iii. makoto's barely 25 when he starts making an effort to actually go out consistently. the year prior had been wasted, filled with sickness and depression, one returning with a vengeance after he'd managed to fight off the other. a handful of months ago, makoto had graduated from college again, speeding through years worth of material to get himself a doctorate for something he'd never use in the real world just for the sake of not having to find another excuse to stay in america. shortly after that, tatsuya had told him, again, that if he was going to keep living in his house, that makoto would have to at least get a job. makoto refused to work and they argued over it -- it'd gotten so bad that makoto went off to stay with someone he'd considered his friend. that ended terribly and makoto ended up calling tatsuya to come get him.

he's at the mall with tatsuya and some of tatsuya's friends when he sees it, a wall of missing persons posters / within it rests a poster of that one person makoto had gone off to stay with for a few days and when he realizes it, murky gaze shifts from wall to tatsuya, who's walking off while laughing at some joke he missed. there's a warm feeling that settles in his stomach when he makes the effort to catch up, all but throwing himself onto best friend's back, arms lazily snaking around his neck as tatsuya hooks arms underneath his legs without missing a beat. makoto quietly thanks him and when tatsuya asks him what for, makoto changes the subject to what they're all going to eat later -- it'll be his treat.

iv. by the time makoto wakes up, tatsuya's up and on the phone, lingering around the kitchen while makoto's trying to remember why he's on the couch instead of in bed. ( the night prior, the two of them were bingeing murder mystery shows. ) when tatsuya's off the phone, he returns to the couch and opts to stretch out across makoto.

" what was all of that about? " makoto asks, speaking through a yawn.

tatsuya blinks up at him. " atsushi hit my dad with a car. he's dead now. "

" how's it feel to be fatherless? "

the half the day passes before someone realizes that it's valentine's day / they'd gone out for lunch and the general masses remind them. makoto's mutism returns immedately after and when tatsuya notices the energy shift, he takes makoto home. they spend the rest of the day smoking one thing or another before makoto breaks out of his silent spell and admits that valentines day is a triggering day for him. tatsuya asks makoto to be his valentine anyway / makoto thinks about it as if it'd been the hardest question on the planet before saying yes.

v. after the two of them bump into shuuzou's younger siblings, makoto is off, trying to avoid having a panic attack on the spot and tatsuya calms him down. they spend the rest of their time at the beach, where tatsuya enjoys his time sunbathing like the cat he is and makoto sucks down about four mai tais. exactly a week later, shuuzou reaches out to the two of them and thanks them for talking to the twins. makoto looks towards tatsuya / tatsuya looks towards makoto / neither of them really know what to do.

so shuuzou's not mad anymore? shuuzou reached out first, so --

makoto's short lived breakdown is once again warded off by tatsuya's presence and while makoto seriously considers not responding, they both text back. ( tatsuya tells him he's welcome, makoto apologies / the silence that comes afterwards is deafening. )

the wait is horrible, so much so that makoto ends up dumping his phone into the blender just so he doesn't have to worry about it. when tatsuya asks him why, makoto tells him that it's better than waiting to dig up the past. makoto's still stupid and sensitive and he doesn't know how to deal with the silence. tatsuya cheers him up and distracts him for twelve hours straight.

makoto misses the facetime call from shuuzou that comes through his ipad because he's busy having sex with tatsuya again.

[slaasherslut]

Billy Lenz + Giving Oral M&F HEADcanons

Billy Lenz is the absolute king of giving head. Nothing can change my mind about this. This man aims to please you and will go for hours. He'll have you crying and whining under him for as long as he wishes until he's had his fill. He doesn't care how absolutely overestimated and wrecked you are, there's no stopping this man once you get him in between your thighs.

More under the cut

The pro pussy eater

☾ I got one word for you: WET. This mother fucker is a drooler. He will drool all over you. Licking wet stripes up your thighs all the way up to your pussy. He would spread his drool everywhere except where you need it most. After some sufficient begging he will shove his drool covered tongue inside you. His mouth is almost as wet as you are. You can just hear how absolutely wet everything is, its so lewd the way you can just hear how wet you have become with his help. Hes slurping up everything and shoving his drool inside you with his tongue.

☾ They don't call him "the moaner" for nothing. This man eats pussy so fucking loud. There is no hiding it when he's eating you out. The entire house can hear him. He's constantly moaning and whining into your pussy while he's devouring you. He lets out vicious groaning sounds with his mouth wide open and his tongue pressed against you or inside of you. You cant help but cringe when he starts slurping up your cum from your previous orgasm before he dives back in for more. He'll dirty talk you while his face is pressed firmly into your wet cunt. You cant even understand him half of the time but you know if you heard it that it would push you to the edge and the vibrations against you feel so good.

☾ He loves when you wear skirts. He will bend you over the closest surface, push your skirt up to your hips, and just start eating like it's Christmas dinner. Loves to shove your back against the wall and pin you there with your leg over his shoulder while he's eating you out, especially in the common areas of the sorority house. Make you cum fast before he's booking it back into one of his hiding places, leaving you a dirty mess and reeking of sex while you're still leaning against the wall for dear life. Will definitely duck under your skirt if it's on the longer side. He will get down on his knees under your skirt and lick at you while he's barely hidden away.

☾ Things Billy has said while eating you out include:

"Give me that pretty little pussy."

"I'm gonna eat you alive."

"I'm gonna suck that swollen little clit until you're crying for me."

"Stop fucking squirming you stupid little slut."

"Squeal for me pretty piggy."

the ultimate dick sucker

☾ Regardless of your gender or what you're packing, you will have Billy absolutely drooling. The moment you pull out your cock, whether you're still soft or rock solid, this man will be leaking like a faucet. He will run his wet tongue up and down your length, moaning like a madman about how good you taste. He wants to get your dick thoroughly slick so he can take you down his throat easier. He'll pop the head in his mouth, tongue wagging violently as he quickly takes more and more in his mouth, working you down his throat. He would suck you hard and fast as he moans around you, his drool running down your length and to your balls. He would make sure to lick up his mess along with yours.

☾ Billy 'deep throat goat' Lenz. He will deep throat the fuck out of you. This man has little to no gag reflex what so ever so no matter how big you are, hes gonna take the whole thing and laugh while he does it. He loves the look on your face when he has your cock in his mouth and he takes you so deep his nose is pressed into your lower abdomen. He also loves to take you that deep and choke himself or have you do it for him if you're comfortable with it. He'll moan as his airway is restricted and the look on your face at the new tightness plus the vibrations of his moans drives him wild.

☾ I imagine Billy will also jerk himself off while hes between your legs. Watching you writhe above him, your face contorting in pleasure, gets him so incredibly hard. If you're not getting him off at the same time he will happily do it himself. Hes not one for teasing or edging so if hes hard he will go straight to pumping his massive cock. He'll be sucking you off like his life depends on it while moaning manically with every pump of his hand. He'll tell you "I'm gonna cum with your dick down my throat" but it just comes out as a bunch of gargles and whines. He tries his best to make sure he cums at the same time as you but sometimes he cant help himself.

☾ Things Billy has said while sucking your cock:

"Shove it down my fucking throat."

"I cant wait to eat your cum."

"Make me gag on it."

"Cum in my mouth big boy/girl"

"Fuck my mouth you slut."

light dividers by rainbowkisses31

☾ notes: for day 2 of Billy week I wanted to do some hcs but i also wanted to make them a bit more inclusive. I know my work could be a lot more vague when it comes to gender and im so sorry that its not, its a force of habit but i would really like to work on that. in the meantime i hope these sound okay!

☾ tag list: @rottent33th @cries-in-latino  @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @the-pinstriped-hood @allthingsblood @25bohemianmoons

message me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[becca-e-barnes]

heyyyy becca i’m back with beefy bucky thoughts <3 i found a photo (which i’ll send after this) and oh,, my god 🙂 imagine riling him up bc you know it’ll end with him overstimming u with his hand around your throat i’m dizzy - 🌙

The painfully sexy photo in question:

The switch in me isn't sure if I'm more jealous of Bucky getting to press Steve against a wall or Steve who gets to be pressed against the wall by Bucky 🥵

Because the thought of being a handful just so you piss him off to the point where he's totally feral is far too hot.

Maybe you've been a total brat since the moment you got up that morning. You've been as difficult as possible, giving him the most infuriating responses and being downright ignorant when he asks you something.

So by the time he's got you alone, he's seething at how defiant you've been with him. He's spent all day with his jaw clenched, watching you defy him so openly, planning exactly how he's going to ruin you when he gets you home.

The second the front door closes behind you, he's on you but not with his lips like he usually would be. No, instead he's forcefully pressing you back against the wall, his huge frame towering over you. He doesn't miss your little squeak of delight and he huffs out a mocking laugh because you're getting exactly what you wanted.

"What the fuck was all that today, princess?" He grunts, an edge of anger behind the feigned evenness in his voice.

"What was what?" You ask innocently, meeting his gaze with every ounce of defiance you have left.

"You know goddamn well what I'm talking about." He whispers, running one hand up the inside of your thigh, under your dress. "Ha. I shoulda known you were getting off on being a little bitch. Guess you need me to remind you who the fuck this little cunt belongs to, hm? You want daddy to pin you down and fuck you, sweetheart? You wanna cry for me? Cause kitten, you aren't getting a single damn thing you want tonight. I don't care how sweet you beg. You've got your safe word and unless I hear it, I'm not slowing down no matter what. Not stopping until every last disobedient thought is fucked out of that silly little head of yours. Am I clear?" His fingers never stop teasing over the lace of your panties, realising that the presence of your underwear alone was another act of defiance.

You consider his proposition for a moment, trying not to squirm against his talented fingers. Why give in so easily? Especially when it'll be so much more fun to keep being bratty a little while longer.

"Go fuck yourself, daddy." You whisper, watching his eyes and it looks like he's seen red. His free hand clasps around your throat, his fingers still stroking your clit with a practiced ease and it's embarrassing that you're right on the edge already.

"Say that one more time, sweetheart. Say it again. I fucking dare you." He whispers, watching your face with a smirk on his lips.

You can't quite manage the words over the pleasure. The gentle pressure of his hand on your neck leaves you tingling pleasantly, the fingers between your legs are working their magic and the thrill of the trouble you're in has adrenaline coursing through your body.

"That's what I fucking thought." Bucky whispers after a second, speeding his filthy movements, leaving you sobbing as you cum. Your whole body feels electric, the pleasure almost making you see stars.

"You're gonna regret this, honey. I'm gonna fucking make sure of it." He whispers, ruining the end of your orgasm when his fingers stop, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom.

[the-diabolist]

Could I have Strade in the Foyer with the Whip for Kinktober please? (Also congrats on the 150, you always write such good fic and also this is an amazing prompt list omg)

Kinktober 2022, day 13 - thank you!! <3

c.w: gn reader, biting/marking (instead of corruption, with permission from requester), overstimulation, oral (reader receiving), Strade is his own warning. 1k

You're already dozing as the movie credits start to roll, head resting on his shoulder. He nudges you lightly with his elbow.

"Time for bed, darling," he murmurs, sweetly. You mutter something and snuggle closer to him, reluctant to move, and he laughs softly. "Ah, so cute~!"

He shifts, turning toward you and wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you close, and starts trailing kisses from your temple, to your cheek, and down your jaw - you tilt your head for him automatically, and he takes a moment to remove your collar before burying his face in your bared neck.

You start drifting off again very quickly, despite his continued attentions - and then, abruptly, you're very awake as he bites down on the delicate skin over your pulse.

"Ouch! Straaade," you whine in complaint, one hand flying to cover the sore spot as the other comes up to push at his chest. He grabs both and pins them behind you. "C'mon, I'm tired," you protest, struggling feebly in his grip.

"Go back to sleep, then, dear," he says, using his control of your wrists to manhandle you onto your back on the couch. You squeak as he climbs over you and pins you with his weight. "Don't let me stop you!"

He roughly tugs off your shorts and lifts your knees to rest on either side of his hips, then slides your tank top up over your collarbones so he can run his hands over your bare torso.

Somehow, you fall for it again. He kisses down your sternum, over your ribs, and across each side of your chest, occasionally pausing to suck a mark into your skin.

You start to fall back to sleep, made warm and cozy by his body heat and his proximity, lulled by his gentle attentions... and then he sinks his teeth into the swell of flesh below your clavicle.

You yelp and jerk, trying to sit up, but he's still pinning you. He laughs.

"Strade! Damn it!"

"Shhh," he responds softly, then nips hard at your jaw, "you're dreaming."

You roll your eyes, still trying to squirm out from under him, but he's not having it - he traps your wrists above your head, then he moves back down to your chest. One kiss, two, and then he bites down on a nipple. You buck hard, trying to throw him off. It doesn't work, but he does let go of you and starts moving lower.

He's abandoned the pretense of affectionate kisses now, choosing instead to nip and maul his way down your stomach, over your hips, and between your legs. He exhales, long and hot, into the apex of your thighs. Despite knowing better, you arch toward his mouth; he laughs and licks a firm stripe over you, drawing a gasp from your throat.

He dives in, rough and eager, licking and sucking as you moan and bury your fingers in his hair and buck against his tongue. His teeth graze you often (he's not exactly careful), but it's not too bad, beyond being jarring and a little frightening - until he turns his head and sinks them into your inner thigh.

So far, the pressure has been bruising, which is bad enough, but this one breaks skin. You cry out, nails digging into his scalp as your fingers fist in his hair and tug firmly in an attempt to pull him off you. Eventually he allows it, leaning back to admire his work as you pant harshly.

"Ohh, liebling, you look so good like this," he purrs, gaze tracing the various bite marks and hickeys littering your form. Finally, it lands on your face, which you're sure is radiating pain and annoyance. "Aw, what's wrong? I thought you were going to sleep?"

You flip him off with both hands.

He dons that fake good-natured grin of his, and then dips back between your legs, where he first spends some time lapping up the blood that has started to ooze from the new crescent wounds there. He doesn't bite that hard again, but he does get rougher in general - nibbling and nipping and raking his teeth over you in between harsh, overzealous lashes of his tongue.

After a few minutes of enjoying your spasms and cries, he latches on to you with his lips and sucks hard and long. Helpless, you come in his mouth, and he readily slurps it up.

You hope, for a few naive seconds, that you're done - that he'll take you to bed and let you sleep. Again, though, you should know better.

He climbs back up over you, lifting your hips for easy access. Resigned, you let him maneuver you, and even wrap your arms around his neck when he leans down to lick along your jaw.

He slams into you with one thrust and then takes up a brutal pace; you hold onto him for dear life as your overwrought, sensitive nerves threaten to burst apart altogether.

His fingers dig into your thighs with bruising force, his hips crash mercilessly into yours, and your nails rake over his back and shoulders in a frantic attempt to ground yourself against the tightening coil in your abdomen.

Your voice warbles and rises as you get closer, culminating in a sharp cry in his ear as he bites down on your neck one more time and you climax again, whining and twitching in his arms.

He keeps going with barely a stutter, working you through your orgasm and into another, stronger wave of overstimulation. You start trying to push him away, but he doesn't budge. You fight panic as you realize he's not going to stop.

"Strade - please - I can't," you nearly sob, but he just laughs breathlessly.

"Sure you can, darling," he coos. "Don't worry, I'll help you through it... and the next one, too!"

You groan, hoping you'll get lucky and pass out soon.