#inhale poppers

[futchgunk]

brainstorming tgirl swag dabbing granny style rough draft in the tags

[officalgeorgestaniel]

GUYS- he's literally soaking wet.

[lyriumsings]

mentally preparing to draw after i clean

[eremitical]

not voting on that poppers poll because my answer is "no" but its not because i dont love doing drugs i just dont have sex

[unkiemarks]

Mff off to a bangin start!

[sashiavi]

Jealous SDV (hybrid?) boys rutting into you after getting jealous after smelling someone else on you <3

Ahhh oh goshhhh okay- I need to whip smth up for this

(I got carried away - forgive me? I went for a ramble and it became smth- I wrote enough for warnings 😭)

Warnings : Smut | 18+ | Hybrid Characters | Scenting | implication of ruts and heats | jealousy | thoughts about lactation & pregnancy | Sam Sebastian Alex Sh*ne | not beta read >v>

PuppyBoy!Sam jumping on you when you finally return home! Hugging you, nuzzling into your neck and sniffing in your scent with a happy sigh when you card your hand through his hair.

PuppyBoy!Sam who stops short, nose pressing hard into your skin, inhaling an ever familiar scent; Sebastian, the Catboy.

PuppyBoy!Sam who whines and whimpers, his yellow-blonde ears drooping down. The smell distressing him despite being best friends with Sebastian for many years - He squirms and cries, glomping over you, tail frantically wagging as he makes an attempt to heavily scent you.

PuppyBoy!Sam pressing his body to your own, weight keeping you on the surface of the bed below, feverishly rocking his hips into your cunt. Heavy balls slapping into your pussy, warm hands all over your body.

PuppyBoy!Sam who can't help but bite and nibble at your skin, slobbering all over you. His tail wiggles and wags, ears pinned to his head, poor croaked voice whimpering and whining, moaning out silly insecurities and desperate attempts to soothe himself.

PuppyBoy!Sam just can't stop crying. "You love me, I know you do!" "M' a Good Boy! Right?" "Better than Seb- Love you more-!" Babbling nonsense while he humps at your gushy pussy and feverishly rubs at your clit.

CatBoy!Sebastian lazily crawling to you on the lounge when you return, slinking across, tail swishing calmy as he snuggles up, gently pawing at your chest.

CatBoy!Sebastian tucking his face into your neck as he carefully kneads at your skin, peppering kisses and nose boops behind your ear.

CatBoy!Sebastian letting out a little feral growl at the offensive scent of someone else lingering on your clothes and skin - Probably that stupid dumb Jock CowHybrid!Alex. His ears pin and his tail stands static.

CatBoy!Sebastian biting and licking his corse tongue over your pretty, sensitive nipples. Hands kneading at your thighs, lips latched over your pert buds. If he thought and imagined hard enough, he could taste your sweet milky cream on his tongue.

CatBoy!Sebastian who gets a little carried away with the thought of you swollen and leaking milk just for him and his Kittens. He can't help but rut and grind up on your clothed cunt.

CatBoy!Sebastian who wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing subtly, coaxing your tongue to lul out of your mouth.

CatBoy!Sebastian who spits on your tongue and kisses you after. Searing hot, canines clattering your own, biting into your soft lips as he pulls away, eyes quinted and lips downturned in a pouty frown.

CowHybrid!Alex knocking his forehead softly into your own, mindful of his budding horns, bringing you into a warm hug after your night out at the Saloon.

CowHybrid!Alex kissing your temple, shucking off your coat to hang up, noticing a wet patch and catching a whiff of something odd - Spilt beer no doubt, tangled in something spicy.. Jalepeno poppers?

CowHybrid!Alex wasting little time, instincts running rampant. Easily manhandling your pretty self to the nearest counter, head in the clouds, mind only focused on reclaiming what was his.

CowHybrid!Alex falling victim to his own Bull heritage - Rutting his cock up between the pretty swell of your ass, horns poking pressure into the back of your head. His jaw threatens to nip and bite into your neck, rough, large hands pressing you down.

CowHybrid!Alex who makes haste at his pants, revealing his veiny leaky cock, pushing the sticky, squishy tip up against your wet panties. Grinding and pushing the barrier of your underwear, messing up the fabric even more with his own leaky pre.

CowHybrid!Alex pulling your panties aside and fucking his thick bull cock into your pretty pussy, tumbling himself into a rut. He moans and shouts, hands on your hips to pull you back on his length.

CowHybrid!Alex who can't help but stare at his fat, drippy bull cock burying up in your tight, wet cunt.

CowHybrid!Alex who would go again and again, releasing his hot milky cum over and over, Marking up on your insides. Messy and gooey, dripping down his own front as he humps at you from behind.

BearHybrid!Shane walking home with you from the Saloon, after a big night of drinking and Pool with the other younger patrons of the town.

BearHybrid!Shane grumbling as you enter the front door, kicking off his shoes. Bending to put them on the rack, standing with a crack in his knee and a glare when you giggle at him.

BearHybrid!Shane who pretends to be mad, pulling you in for a big warm hug, wrapping his arms around your frame, squeezing you snug and tight.

BearHybrid!Shane who lets up a little, nose pressing into your hair and neck, catching a whiff of an abundance of hybrid smells - Some Canine, Feline, all sticking to your skin more than he'd like - Surely those youngin boys weren't stupid enough to make an attempt at anything? Right?

BearHybrid!Shane who thinks he just has to mark you up better, to let everyone know who you really belonged to.

BearHybrid!Shane rubbing his scratchy chin on your neck, pressing his larger body on to your own, putting a warm pressure on your skin.

BearHybrid!Shane licking at your skin, nibbling, biting, kissing up on your torso, leading down, down, down your tummy to your core.

BearHybrid!Shane squeezing at your hips and thighs with his large, warm hands, pawing at your body, caressing and teasing over all the most sensitive and ticklish spots. His large thumbs swiping over your cute, drooly pussy, his own mouth nearly watering at the sight.

BearHybrid!Shane suckling on your clit, lapping his tongue through your sticky folds, grumbling to himself between your legs cause you're just "Too fucken' sweet" "Like fucken' honey, Baby".

BearHybrid!Shane and his scratchy 12 o clock shadow scraping your inner thigh. Large, warm hands squeezing at your hips, pulling your pussy onto his tongue.

BearHybrid!Shane with his lips smushed up on your cunt, nose bumping up on your clit, pretty purple eyes peering up through his dark brow, furrowed and grumpy while he laps and suckles on you. Just spitting and drooling up on your thighs, marking you up with his teeth and slobber.

(I don't have a favourite what do you meannn)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

captive

words: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dark!rafe but he has soft moments hes trying, drugged!reader, kidnapping, DUB/NONCON, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, biting, nipple play, p in v sex, unprotected sex, anal sex, forced drug intake, snorting cocaine, smoking weed, poppers, mentions of pregnancy

“nooo.” you moan out, eyelids blinking heavily as you stare at the white powder along rafes finger. “im already-”

“no.” rafe says harshly, cutting off your protests. “i saw the way you were looking at the door. are you trying to leave me?”

“rafe-” you plead, but then his hand clamps harshly over your mouth, so tight no air could possibly get in. his finger presses against your nose, furious eyes watching yours as he waits for you to give up and inhale.

you feel dizzy, dizzy from the drugs already in your system and the lack of oxygen as you finally inhale, taking in the sweet air along with the drugs.

“that's it.” rafe pulls his hand away as you take in deep gulps of oxygen, scooping you up effortlessly as you recover and placing you down on the bed.

rafe keeps one eye on you as he prepares the room for nighttime, shutting the curtains and switching on lamps to bathe the room in soft light. he grabs your pajamas from the dresser, knowing he's just going to tear them off you later.

rafes foot falls are soft against the lush rug as he heads back over to the bed. “baby.” he says harshly when he sees your eyes are closed, tapping your cheek with increased hardness until your eyes open.

“im so tired.” you complain. “took too much.”

rafe just sighs. it's no more than he's given you on other days. the drugs keep you pliable, harmless, unable to escape. 

rafe can't let you leave him. he knows it's wrong, but he just needs to keep you fucked up enough until you forget that you want to leave in the first place. forget that your sweet boyfriend quickly turned evil when you told him you were leaving for college.

“stay awake, bunny.” rafe says. “it's what you get for trying to leave me.”

“the door is locked anyways.” you mumble. “even if i was looking at it i couldn't have left.”

you managed one time to twist the doorknob. to hear and feel the lock stop you. all your drugged up mind could manage was to turn back and lie in bed.

“do you want a little bedtime snack?” rafe asks, watching as you perk up, nodding enthusiastically.

rafe moves your body, manipulates it to the position he wants as you're laid sideways on the bed, head tipped back over the edge.

“dick first then ill get you a different snack.” rafe says, watching your eyes flutter in attempt to stay open as he tugs at his zipper, undoing his shorts and pushing them down along with his underwear in one quick movement.

“i can't.” you reach out and grip rafes thighs, head barely able to hold up as you look in his eyes with pleading in yours. “ill choke. im too-”

rafes hips plunge forward, pressing the length of his cock all down your face as your head falls, the next thrust sinking into your mouth as you resign to your task.

you focus on breathing through your nose as his cock repeatedly enters your mouth, somehow able to find enough compassion in himself to slowly build up his thrusts so he's not immediately down your throat.

“that's a good girl.” rafe coos, the praise making your head spin as you keep your hands gripped on his thighs.

rafes hands reach for your cheeks, pressing them together as he presses fully in now with every thrust, watching his cock bulge against your throat.

rafe lets out loud moans, unashamed of his vocality. it's not like you have enough mentality to judge him for it, especially not with the wet and choking sounds coming from you.

rafe does keep one eye on your chest. watching your heartbeat through the low cut shirt he put you in this morning. just in case. you mean far too much to rafe to let anything truly happen to you, even if it means him keeping you high as kite and locked away in his bedroom.

“close baby.” rafe tells you. he's never able to hold himself back for long when he gets you in a position like this. “so tight for me.”

rafe is fucking your mouth with as much furosity as he does your pussy, not worried about your teeth possibly scraping, knowing he's taught you well enough that they're covered with your tongue and lips. even though you've been his captive for almost a month now, that doesn't change the fact that you'd never want to hurt rafe.

rafe lets out a string of harsh curses and the feel of his cock swelling in your mouth is all you need to know he's about to cum.

you move one hand that's on his muscular thigh to his balls, fondling them the best you can. it's the final touch rafe needs as he shouts out your name, hips pressing forward as he cums deep down your throat, watching the way his cock twitches and pours out semen under the thin layer of your skin.

“shit!” rafe curses loudly, hand moving to squeeze your throat, giving the extra tightness he needs for one last pump of cum inside of you before he pulls out.

you quickly turn over, flipping onto your stomach as you cough and sputter, deep wheezing breaths filling your lungs fully.

“oh, my good girl.” rafe helps you to lay back properly on the bed, giving you soft kisses along your cheeks and forehead as you recover.

his soft side is always a surprise, in so much contrast to how he normally treats you. he just wants you to stay good and pliable all the time, tired of when you act out or defy him.

“now time for that snack, yeah?” rafe says. 

he leaves the room, and you listen for that telltale sound of him locking the door behind him, but it doesn't come. you blink harshly, trying to force yourself to stand, to let your legs carry you out, but your stomach growls, knowing rafe will keep you well fed, and your pussy clenches, knowing rafe will fill it later, and you stay laid on the bed.

rafe enters moments later with a pleased look on his face. it may have been only minutes, and you may have been strung out, but he was just able to leave the door unlocked and came back to find you in the exact same position he left you in.

“crackers?” rafe offers you, helping you sit up and schooch back to lean against the headboard.

you take the bowl as rafe checks your water bottle is still full before standing up and locking the door, slipping the key into his pocket. he made sure to get double side locks, reinforced to keep you secured.

“im going to take a quick shower.” rafe says, leaving you to finish the snack on your own. you eat quickly, munching down the food to satisfy your drug addled mind.

you set the bowl down on your nightstand when you're done, eyes turning to the pajamas laid against the bench at the end of the bed, knowing rafe intends to dress you himself when he gets back. 

he's never able to control himself when he sees you naked. it's why every time after he's finished putting your clothes on that he has to rip them right back off. why every time he helps you bathe or shower that he ends up fucking you all wet. every time your shirt slips up your stomach or shorts ride too short and you're unable to fix it in your state, that rafe ends up getting you naked and worshiping your body.

“y/n.” rafe calls your attention up to him as your eyes refocus, having drifted off at some point. rafe is standing in just a towel, wrapped snuggly across his waist.

“do you need another hit?” he questions, not wanting you to fall asleep, he likes when you're awake while he takes you, so he can see the fire behind your eyes. “or a joint?”

“yeah.” you nod. “a joint.”

you hope rafe will smoke it with you. you like when rafe gets high. his feral movements slow down, his thrusts become softer and kisses tamer.

rafe heads over to the locked cabinet, putting in the code before opening it up and grabbing a few things out. you watch with half horror and half fascination as rafes long slender fingers roll the joint before lighting it, the lighter briefly brightening the room in orange haze.

“here ya go.” rafe sticks one end between your lips, allowing you to inhale deeply. rafe is pleased, already such a quick turn around from having to force you less than an hour ago to snort.

“you're getting so obedient.” rafe says softly, wishing he could get you to be obedient at all times and not just when you're fucked up. then maybe he can let you out of the room, slowly expand your privileges.

“mhm.” you hum, closing your eyes as you lean forward and inhale deeply again. you turn your head to the side to blow out the smoke, pushing it away from rafe.

you keep huffing and exhaling until the room smells like weed. you're not sure what the combination of drugs in your system does to you, but it has you looking at rafe with softer eyes, forgetting that he's the one forcing you to snort various powders and pop pulls, just thinking about him as the one who brings you snacks and cuddles you.

“pajamas?” you ask rafe once the joint it almost gone, watching him head to the bathroom to damp it out in some water and toss it.

“yeah.” rafe grabs your pajamas, a very immodest and revealing matching set of shorts and a tank top.

you stay slack against the bed, letting rafe pull off your t-shirt and undo your bra, his eyes staying on your tits as he tosses your clothes into the hamper. he doesn't touch them yet, despite his fingers twitching with need.

he moves onto your pants yet, tugging your yoga pants off and discarding them so you're in just your underwear.

“my favorite pair.” rafe says softly, though really any of your thongs are his favorite. his hands push your thighs open and you don't resist when his finger presses against your core and swipes up, putting pressure right on your clit.

you let out a moan as your back arches, but as quickly as rafe began touching you, he stops, and then pulls your shorts up your legs.

“thank you.” you reach your arms up, body calling out to rafe, craving him. rafe scoops you up into his lap, snuggling his nose into your neck.

“just relax.” rafe says, hands petting over your body until one inevitably slips between your thighs. he keeps his hands away from your core, teasing you with soft strokes.

rafes thumb and pointer finger suddenly pinch together with your flesh caught inside, but you barely even react to the sudden burst of pain. it's how rafe can tell you're truly ready for him.

“gonna lay you back.” rafe narrates as he places you on the bed, standing over you while you stare up at him, waiting for what the first strike is going to be. what area of your body he's going to pounce on first.

it starts with tearing your shorts down, bearing your pussy to him yet again. a pleased smile stretches across rafes features when he sees you're already wet from his teasing.

“wanna taste you.” rafe lays himself down on the bed, still only covered in the towel, hair slightly damp that you'd want to run your fingers through if your arms weren't noodles.

rafe doesn't often eat you out. in a way, it feels like a reward as he leans in, mouth covering your clit. his tongue pokes out, tapping at your clit as you let out soft moans and mewls.

“so yummy.” rafe praises you, mouth sinking to your entrance, slurping at the juices built up there.

his little fuck kitten, his baby, his captive and his girlfriend, even if you did attempt to break up with him. he's never let you truly lose the title.

rafe doesn't stay laid on his stomach for long. while his incessantly licking through your folds feels good, it doesn't suit him anymore once your taste has already coated his tongue.

rafes kisses lead up your stomach, mouth pressing against your skin as his head pushes up your shirt until it's barely covering your chest. his hands push the loose tank top the rest of the way off your body.

rafe presses kisses to each of your nipples, watching them bloom and perk up right before his eyes. his smile grows as he widens his teeth and sinks them around your nipple, biting down before giving a hearty tug that has you crying out the most you can, a strangled mix between a moan and a cry.

rafe repeats the same bite and pull on the other side, then back and forth, then back and forth again, until your high dulls it out and you don't even react.

once your eyebrow doesn't even twitch in pain, rafe moves on, his hands pushing your thighs apart again as he kneels between them on the bed, tugging at the white towel as it falls away to reveal his hard cock.

“you're being so docile for me today.” rafe says like it's supposed to be praise, even though a sick feeling twists in your gut. “how about i try out your other hole today?”

your eyes widen and you try to sit up slightly. “i-”

“yeah, i think i will try it.” rafe says with a grin, reaching over to the bedside table and scrounging through the drawer until he finds the little bottle he's looking for.

rafe considers strapping you down to help you keep your legs open, but he likes the idea of you being unrestricted by bonds and rather too blissed out to move.

“turn over for me.” rafe commands, helping you flip onto your stomach. rafe grips your ass in his hands, massaging your plump flesh and watching it jiggle before he tugs your hips upward into the air.

he manages to get you to balance somewhat as he spreads your cheeks apart, looking at your little puckered hole just waiting to squeeze around his cock.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers and unwinds them, pressing them towards your face as he waits for you to inhale. you don't try to resist this time, knowing the drugs will only relax your muscles more and make things more pleasurable, even if the smell is so strong it causes your entire body to jolt.

rafe grunts out some praise that you barely hear or take in as he screws the bottle closed and lines up his cock with your entrance.

he's able to push in easily, knowing the drugs will only keep you open and relaxed for a few minutes. 

rafe presses his hips right into your bum, lodging himself as deep as he can inside of you. “knew your ass would feel great.” he says, tapping your bum in spankings that you barely register.

rafe begins to move, his strokes deep and slow as he fucks you. his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you held up just how he wants you.

you let out a strangled noise as the muscle relaxers wear off, your previous untouched hole clenching tightly around rafes length.

rafe curses harshly as you tighten around him, almost squeezing so intensely that its not pleasurable, but he's determined to work you through it.

he slowly increases the rhythm of his hips fucking into you, building up until he's fucking you with the furosity that he does your pussy on a nightly basis.

“jesus.” rafe grunts out, listening to your tiny whimpers and moans that you can't help releasing. “do you like this baby?”

you try to open your mouth to answer, but all you do is allow drool to slide down your chin, no words actually coming out. you're not sure if you like it, or it the drugs are just dulling out the pain and leaving the pleasure.

“where do you want me to cum though bunny?” rafe asks, bending down to speak into your ear. “surely you want me to fuck your pussy, yeah? get you pregnant?”

there's no way a pregnancy would ever last with the amount of drugs consistently flooding your system, but rafe likes to think about it. another way to get you to stay, another reason to never leave him.

you manage to shake your head in some way that forms a nod. rafe quickly switches holes like it's nothing, pushing into your pussy and keeping the exact same pace in your cunt that he did your ass.

“too much?” rafe asks, hoping you say yes, his smile stretching when you give the vague halfish nod again. you're so beyond overwhelmed that you still haven't shut your mouth, a wet spot of drool forming on the bedsheets to add to the wet spot from your dripping pussy.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers again, holding it to your nose. you don't even realize that he's done it until the smell hits your nose and your body jolts.

rafe chuckles at your reaction, forcing two fingers into your asshole, pumping them in contrast to the timing of his hips pushing forward, causing even more stimulation to flood your senses.

“i bet if i just tap your clit you'd cum, huh?” rafe questions.

it's a juggle to overstimulate you from every angle, but rafe manages to reach down with his other hand, but instead of tapping it like he said, he pinches your bud, holding it tightly between your fingertips as you let out a squeal.

“knew it.” rafe chuckles as he feels you pussy pulsate around him, squeezing and fluttering as your orgasm suddenly hits, juices flooding and soaking rafe and the bedsheets below you as your pussy gushes.

rafe regrets pulling out of your other hole as it clenches down on his fingers, but he's satisfied with shoving deep inside of you and pumping you full of his cum.

rafe let's out a moan that sounds almost like your name, but the sudden force of your orgasm has caused your ears to stop working along with seemingly every other part of your body.

rafe pulls out and lets you slump onto your side. he gives you a quick check to make sure you're still breathing before heading back to the bathroom to clean himself off. 

he doesn't bother with you, knowing you'll sleep off your high and walk up after noon to clean yourself and restart the cycle all over again.

“can't wait to do that again tomorrow baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss your lips despite them still being slackened apart.

rafe pulls you into him as he lays under the covers, feeling your naked bodies touching, skin to skin.

“goodnight.” rafe whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you try to stay awake. maybe you can get away when he goes to sleep, maybe, maybe, maybe, but your head spins and eyes droop closed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[lady-phasma]

Fangtober Day 1 - Blood

Lestat x fem!reader

Warning: MDNI 18+, period blood, oral sex f receiving, there’s a tampon and Lestat so that’s a warning.

a/n: for that moot, you know who you are, I put the line in just for you.

Lestat slid his hands around your stomach as he stood behind you. He gently placed a hand on your lower belly and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You smell amazing, chèr,” he whispered. “May I?” He slowly began to slide your pajama bottoms off.

You laughed quietly as he removed your pants. You leaned back against his chest, consenting. He lightly kissed your cheek then moved in front of you before you could blink. You smiled at him as he placed his hands on your hips, his fingertips just under the waistband of your panties. As he guided them off you, he moved you both nearer the bed. Carefully, using his strength to seem as if you weren’t really moving at all, he laid you down on the bed. He knelt between your legs. He kissed your stomach just below the hem of your shirt. Your face went hot when he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent.

“Mon dieu,” he murmured against your skin. His thumb rubbed small circles on your hip as he kissed lower.

You stifled a giggle as his lips tickled your skin. You moved a hand to stroke his hair back so you could see his face. His blue eyes flicked up at you as he kissed the mound of your pussy. Your hips twitched involuntarily and he held you still with one hand on your hip. He moved a little lower and you felt his tongue against your slit. Lestat closed his eyes and breathed out softly. You moaned and let your hand fall to the bed beside you. One of his hands slid up the inside of your thigh. You felt his fingers graze against you as he kissed your lips. You closed your eyes and sighed.

His fingers delved into your wet heat and he groaned. His tongue passed over your clit, making you shiver. His other hand moved between your legs and he pressed your thighs open. You spread your legs a little more to make room for him. You noticed you had fisted the bedsheets in your hands in anticipation.

Lestat used his thumbs to spread you apart and licked up your entire cunt, circling your clit once. Then he hummed happily as you felt a gentle tug. He gripped the tampon string lightly with his teeth and pulled back slowly. You moaned as the tampon moved. It shouldn’t be sexy, but with Lestat is was, so sexy. You opened your eyes and looked down at him. He let the string drop and lowered his face between your legs again. He tugged on the string again gently, still holding you open. You gasped as the tampon came out. Lestat raised his head and opened his mouth. The tampon slid out of his lips and fell into his waiting palm.

“Like ma petite party popper and out comes ze prize,” he grinned and politely dropped the tampon on the hardwood floor. If such a thing could be done politely, Lestat could do it.

You finally giggled, but the sound was abruptly cut short as be delved back into your cunt, lapping greedily. You clutched the sheets with both hands as his tongue entered you. One of his hands held you firmly by the hip and the other was positioned so his thumb slowly circled your clit.

“Oh my god, Lestat,” the words came out as a choked moan and you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back on your pillow. “Oh! Fuck.” You felt like you were babbling, but the sensation of his tongue so deep inside you was combined with the softest suction. His thumb on your clit was replaced by two of his fingers as he sped up. He moaned gently as you tried to lift your hips. Your cunt clenched around his tongue and you heard a mumbled ‘yes’ as he sucked a little more. The circling pressure on your clit pushed you closer to your orgasm. Without warning, Lestat swept the hand holding you between your legs, under your ass, and lifted your hips.

You cursed and whined. He pressed his face hard against your cunt and drank, his fingers never slowing their movements. Your climax began to coil around his tongue and released at his fingers. Your hips shook every time his fingers slipped over your clit. You arched your back and gasped his name. You thought you heard him chuckle as you pushed your hips against him. His tongue was as deep inside you as it could go and you came hard around it. As the shaking subsided, Lestat guided your hips back onto the bed. He hummed softly again as he lifted his head. He sat up on his knees, trailing his fingers down your thighs.

“Très belle,” he whispered, wiped a thumb across his pouty bottom lip, and licked it clean.

“You missed a spot,” you giggled and smiled up at him. The red smudges of your blood across his chin stood out against his pale skin. He was so sexy and bizarre and enchanting. You closed your legs at your knees and sat up. You reached up to him and he followed your cue and leaned down to kiss you.

Masterlist

[redvexillum]

A/N: Please be gentle with me during Smutmas, my writing sort of feels like it deteriorated. But to @redfoxwritesstuff you have my permission to pop party poppers around her when she posts her story tomorrow. She dislikes colours /nsrs

SUMMARY: You have reunited with Alastor in Hell, and after celebrating a holiday party at the hotel, he decided to take you back to his room. He has a gift for you, after all, and it’s meant to make up for all the missed opportunities you two had back when you were both alive.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, soft!alastor, somnophilia, tentacle s♡x, p in v, overstimulation, oral s♡x (m!receiving), established relationship, past human relationship with alastor mentioned

The room was a sanctuary of quiet intimacy, a haven far removed from the cacophony of the holiday party outside. The heady aroma of the bayou mingled with something ineffably him—earthy, dark, and comforting. You inhaled deeply, the scent curling through your senses like a caress, as you swayed slightly. The spirits you’d indulged in earlier still buzzed warmly in your veins, giving the moment a hazy, golden hue. 

Alastor stood with his back to you, his silhouette framed by the low flicker of ambient light. He’d whisked you away from the festivities, murmuring something about a gift. The word had lingered, foreign on his tongue—he wasn’t one for giving, not like this. In all the time since your reunion in Hell, you couldn’t recall him ever presenting you with anything tangible. 

"Al?" Your voice was a gentle tease, the nickname rolling off your lips with the kind of easy familiarity that made your chest ache. A giggle bubbled up, warm and effervescent, the alcohol making your joy feel boundless. 

You caught the faintest intake of breath before he turned to face you, and the sight sent your laughter spilling over. There he stood, cheeks tinged with a rare pink flush, a comical yet oddly endearing bow pinned to his chest—a stark forest green against his usual ensemble—he was a walking Christmas decoration. The contrast of the absurdity with his usual self-assured demeanour made the sight even sweeter. 

“Am I supposed to unwrap you, Al?” you teased, your laughter falling into the space between you. You saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes—he must have remembered Angel Dust’s teasing question to you the week before about what you wanted for Christmas. 

Without thought, your body moved toward him, an instinct as natural as breathing. Your arms slid around his waist, your head tilting up to meet his gaze. 

“You could’ve asked for anything, cher,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like a melody meant only for you. His arms wound around you, pulling you closer. “Anything.” 

The words struck a chord that resonated deep within you, their weight pulling you back to memories you’d tried so hard to bury. Before death, fate had been a cruel mistress, ensuring your lives had brushed against each other without ever fully entwining. You had died first, your last breath spent shaping his name in a barely audible whisper. 

“Alastor,” you said now, his name a prayer, a plea, a promise. 

His grin softened, and for once, the edges seemed less sharp, less dangerous. His hands rose to cradle your face, his touch achingly tender. His lips brushed yours in a fleeting kiss, a whisper of what was to come, before he dipped lower, capturing you more fully, tasting you as though he’d been starved for centuries. 

In this place, there were no barriers—no rigid societal expectations, no cruel husband to keep you chained to despair. Hell, for all its torment, had given you the one thing life had denied: him. Wrapped in his arms, you felt an unshakeable truth—you could endure anything, so long as he was by your side. 

“Do I get to unwrap my gift now?” you asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to toy with the satin ribbon at his chest. Your fingers traced its silken loops before catching the end of the bow. Slowly, teasingly, you pulled, the ribbon unravelling with a soft whisper. 

Before you could revel in your playful victory, a sharp snap of his fingers sent a shiver skittering across your skin. The temperature shifted, a sudden, electric charge filling the air. Looking down, your eyes widened in astonishment. You were completely bare, while he remained impeccably dressed, the undone ribbon dangling mockingly against his chest. 

His grin grew, all teeth and mischief, his voice honeyed with amusement. “My, my, cher, you do get to unwrap your gift... but I thought it only fair to claim mine in return.” 

Before you could retort, he guided you to the bed—its crimson sheets flawlessly pristine. You rolled your eyes, only for the motion to be cut short as he turned you to face him. His hands found your waist, and in a sudden collision of bodies, he tumbled you both onto the bed. 

The mattress cradled you as he loomed above, his frame bracketing you in. His grin never faltered, the faint glow in his eyes smouldering with something darker, hungrier. The world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the magnetic pull between you, and the unmistakable sense that you had never been more wanted. 

The atmosphere between you simmered with tension, the kind that sent electricity crackling over your skin and left your breath coming in shallow gasps. Alastor's grin was sharp, mischievous, as he leaned in closer, the weight of his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. 

“Let’s see,” he purred, his voice rich and low, wrapping around you like velvet. His hips pressed forward, and the firm heat of his arousal met your core, a jolt of sensation tearing through you. “My gift to you is making up for all the missed...” He paused, his grin widening as he rolled his hips ever so slightly, the friction drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “...opportunities.” 

“Missed opportunities?” you murmured, your tone a sultry challenge as your fingers drifted to the buttons of his trousers. Your touch was teasing, light, deliberately slow as you felt the way his body tensed beneath your fingertips. 

His forehead dropped to yours, his crimson gaze locking with yours, and for a brief moment, the playful glint in his eyes gave way to something deeper, more ravenous. “And your gift to me…” His lips brushed against your nose, his grin softening into something almost tender. “Is your soul.” He kissed you again, a quick, fleeting press of his lips. “Ah, figuratively speaking, of course.” 

A laugh bubbled from you, soft and genuine, though your voice trembled with the undercurrent of arousal. “Naturally.” 

For a moment, time seemed to stop. His gaze softened as he studied you, as if etching every curve, every detail, into his memory. Then, as though compelled by something far beyond words, he kissed you again. This time, it was slower, lingering, his lips moulding to yours with an almost reverent hunger. 

His free hand drifted downward, deftly undoing the buttons of his pants. The air between you grew thick with anticipation, the faint sound of fabric shifting almost drowned out by the quiet, shared breaths and the soft, broken moans slipping past your lips. 

“Cher,” he whispered, the word dripping with longing as his forehead stayed pressed to yours. His hips moved, dragging the head of his cock down through your slick folds, sending a shiver racing down your spine. His lips barely parted from yours, the taste of rye and something darker lingering in the kiss. “Cher,” he sighed again, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, pulsing with restrained need. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips, urging him forward, and the sensation of him stretching you, filling you inch by inch, stole your breath. The molten heat of him seared into you, leaving you trembling beneath his touch. 

“A-Al,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, needing him deeper, closer. His groan vibrated against your throat as his head dropped to the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. 

The moment his hips met yours fully, he stilled, shuddering against you. His claws threaded through your hair, their tips grazing your scalp, sending a tingle of sensation. His cock throbbed within you, the intensity of his presence overwhelming. 

The soft fabric of his suit teased your skin, your hardened nipples brushing against the lapels. Heat built between you, your clit pulsing with aching need. A small, desperate moan escaped you, and Alastor chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through you. 

“My, my, how awfully impatient, darling,” he teased, though his tone was thick with lust. Without warning, he drew back and thrust forward sharply, the force drawing a sharp cry from your lips. 

He pulled back, his grin morphing into something more wicked, more predatory. Sitting upright, he kept himself buried deep inside you, his sharp red eyes alight with sadistic glee. Shrugging off his jacket, he let it fall carelessly to the floor before setting to work on his shirt buttons. His hips rolled against you with a steady rhythm, pulling soft whimpers from your throat as he worked. 

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice heavy with a mix of affection and delight. His claws fumbled with one stubborn button before he tore the shirt open, the buttons flying, a few bouncing harmlessly against your skin. The fabric joined his jacket on the floor, revealing a chest marred with scars. 

Your gaze lingered on them, but before you could look too closely, his fingers gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his. “Eyes on me, cher,” he commanded, his tone sharp, yet dripping with desire. 

He thrust hard, the slap of skin meeting skin filling the air as you cried out, your walls tightening around him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his cock pressing against the sensitive spot deep within you, drawing another desperate moan from your lips. 

He hadn’t changed—not truly. Alastor was still a contradiction, a walking paradox of hard and soft, cruel and kind, cold and impossibly gentle. 

His pace quickened, the friction between you building until every nerve in your body felt alight with pleasure. The wet sounds of your arousal mingled with his laboured breaths, and you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter, drawing you to the edge. 

Just as you were about to fall, he buried himself deep with a final, forceful thrust. His teeth gritted, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his release flooded into you, hot and thick. He moved lazily, shallow thrusts prolonging the sensation as he spilled every last drop, your walls clenching greedily around him. 

He slowed his thrusts to a near standstill, the aching stretch of him buried deep inside you. His chest heaved above you, rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if savouring the moment. His hands pressed firmly into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you beneath him. His eyes glinted with something dark, something possessive, as he leaned closer. His thumb brushed a damp strand of hair away from your sweat-slick cheek, the gesture almost tender. 

“Don’t worry, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry promise that sent shivers racing down your spine. “The night isn’t over yet.” 

Before you could respond, his form dissolved into shadow, leaving only a fleeting warmth where his body had pressed against yours. A gasp escaped you as he reappeared beneath you, his sudden shift causing a rush of his seed to slip free from your core. Strong arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you flush against his chest. His warmth seeped into your skin as his breath brushed against your ear. 

“Alastor?” His name tumbled from your lips, barely a whisper, the question laced with curiosity and anticipation. But his answer was not words—it was action. His fingers found your swollen clit with ease, circling it with maddening precision. “Ah!” you cried out, your head falling back against his shoulder. 

Your thighs quivered as your legs fell apart instinctively, granting him full access to your trembling body. His chuckle rumbled against your back, a dark, pleased sound that only heightened the heat pooling in your belly. 

As his seed lazily trickled from your entrance, a cool, gelatinous pressure filled you, making you gasp. The sensation was unlike anything else—a shadowy tendril easing its way inside, gliding with ease. “O-oh,” you stammered, your gaze dropping to the writhing darkness between your legs. 

The tendril curled, brushing against your most sensitive spot with unerring precision. “Th-that’s…” Your voice faltered, stolen by the mounting waves of pleasure. 

Each deliberate motion of the tendril sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your inner walls clenching around the inky form. Alastor’s fingers, however, were merciless. They danced over your clit with a teasing rhythm, bringing you to the edge only to stop, denying you release. 

Your breath hitched, and frustration bubbled in your chest as you squirmed against him. The corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed amusement, his grin as infuriating as it was captivating. “Patience, cher,” he purred, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. 

That kiss spoke of unspoken promises, of history shared between you—a silent claim that you were his. 

“Cher, you can hold on longer, can’t you?” 

“Cher, let me have this just a little more…” 

“Cher, my darling… stay with me forever…” 

Each whispered plea dripped with longing, wrapping around your heart even as your body begged for release. Soft mewls escaped your lips, your abdomen tightening as you teetered on the brink. But just as you thought you’d fall over the edge, his movements stopped entirely. 

“Al, please,” you whimpered, the words trembling with desperation. 

But no answer came. Instead, you felt his breath grow softer against your skin, his touch slackening. 

The soft cadence of Alastor’s breath ghosted over your damp skin, and the weight of his wrist rested limply against your thigh. For a moment, you thought he was catching his breath—teasing you with the stillness of his body before surging to life again. But as the seconds stretched into an eternity, the truth hit you like a cold slap.

He had fallen asleep.

Your chest heaved with indignation and disbelief. The shadow tendril nestled deep within you remained still, its presence a cruel tease against your quivering walls. Every nerve in your body was strung tight, the edge of an impending climax so tantalizingly close yet utterly unreachable. The audacity of him—Alastor!—to leave you hanging like this was almost enough to spark genuine outrage.

Desperation clawed at your senses, and your gaze fell to the inky black tendril still rooted inside you. A spark of determination flared as your trembling fingers trailed down to your abdomen, tracing the faint bulge the tendril made as it rested within you. You bit your lip, resolving to take matters into your own hands.

But just as your fingers brushed your swollen clit, a cold, serpentine tendril coiled around your wrist, halting your movements.

“What th—mmph!” Your protest was cut short as another shadow slipped between your parted lips, pressing insistently against your tongue. Shock and indignation flooded your senses, but they were quickly overshadowed by surprise as multiple tendrils sprouted from Alastor’s form beneath you.

Before you could react, they lifted you effortlessly into the air, suspending you above the bed like some obscene starfish. Your limbs were splayed wide, leaving you utterly exposed, while Alastor remained oblivious below you.

A flush of heat rose to your cheeks—not from arousal this time, but sheer disbelief. “Are you kidding me?!” you wanted to scream, but the tendril in your mouth reduced your complaints to muffled, garbled sounds.

The shadows pulsed and writhed, their cool, slick texture a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your overstimulated skin. One tendril inside you shifted, dragging ever so slightly against your inner walls, and your breath hitched despite yourself. The sensation sent a jolt of delicious pleasure coursing through you, making your toes curl in response.

“Alastor…” you moaned around the obstruction in your mouth, your voice a mix of frustration and pleading. But he didn’t stir—not even when his shadows began to move with more intent, exploring and teasing your body with eerie autonomy.

You tried to wriggle free, tried to regain some semblance of control, but the tendrils held you firm, their grip unyielding. The one within you began to pump lazily, its pace maddeningly slow, as if savouring your predicament. Another coiled around your waist, pressing you down, while a thinner tendril circled your sensitive clit, brushing it in featherlight strokes that sent shivers up your spine.

Your body betrayed you, arching into the relentless sensations.

The tendril in your mouth withdrew briefly, allowing you to gasp for air. “Al-Alastor,” you managed to rasp, glaring up at the ceiling. “You’re—mmph!” Your words were cut off as the shadow returned, plunging deeper and muffling any further complaints.

Your body burned with overstimulation, your walls pulsing around the tendril that began to move again, gliding in and out with excruciating slowness. Its tip curled, grazing your g-spot with surgical precision, the sensation making your toes curl. The obscene sound of slickness filled the room, each thrust sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. 

Tears pricked your eyes as the denial of release became unbearable, but the tendril between your legs showed no mercy. It swirled against your inner walls, driving you higher and higher, until the coil in your belly snapped violently. 

Your body convulsed, a scream muffled by the tendril in your mouth as your orgasm tore through you like a raging inferno. But the tendrils did not stop. They pressed on, their relentless movements prolonging your pleasure until it blurred into overstimulation. 

Another orgasm built, faster and sharper than the first, and your head lolled back as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. Your muscles twitched violently, your hips bucking as another wave of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and spent. 

Before you could catch your breath, the tendrils shifted, flipping you onto your stomach and angling your hips upward. Your lips were now mere inches from Alastor’s softened cock, lying exposed against his trousers. His tendrils, however, showed no signs of stopping. 

The one inside you continued its rhythmic pumping, keeping you teetering on the edge of pleasure and overstimulation. Your body quaked as yet another orgasm loomed, relentless and inescapable. And still, Alastor slept.

You were trapped between torment and ecstasy, held captive by his powers even in his unconscious state. Each movement of the tendrils, every teasing caress, reminded you that you were his in every sense of the word—and he, whether awake or asleep, owned you completely. 

The shadow tendril withdrew from your mouth in a slow, languid motion, leaving you gasping for air. Saliva trickled from your lips, pooling in shimmering droplets on Alastor’s cock. The sensation stirred him slightly, a twitch signalling his body’s eager response to your presence. Your limbs, trembling and weak, were now bound snugly behind your back by the same inky restraints. Gradually, they guided your body downward, your lips brushing against his softening member. 

A faint exhale escaped you, warm against his sensitive skin, and his cock twitched in reply, stirring to life as blood began to fill him once more. 

“Alastor…” you murmured, your voice rough and tinged with the weight of exhaustion and desire. The air was thick with the scent of sex—a heady, intoxicating blend of sweat, musk, and release. Just as a fresh wave of sensation overtook you, the tendril inside you shifted, pressing deeply against your cervix. Your mouth fell open in a soundless cry. 

A slender tendril of shadow slithered around the base of Alastor’s cock, guiding his thickening length toward your lips. Inch by inch, it slid past your tongue, filling your mouth with salty, musky warmth—the combined flavour of both of you. 

“D-darling…” Alastor’s voice cracked faintly, a low, drowsy murmur. His hips jolted the moment your tongue swirled around his sensitive tip, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he was awake. But the lazy thrusts of his tendrils inside you told another story. He was still lost in his dreams, his powers acting entirely of their own volition. 

The thought sent a shiver through you. You wondered if Alastor dreamt of you, dreamt of this. 

Your lips tightened into a seal around his now fully hardened cock, your head bobbing slowly as you savoured the weight of him on your tongue. Each movement was purposeful, drawing out his pleasure as you worked him with your mouth. The wet sounds of your efforts filled the room, each slurp and suck echoing alongside the squelching rhythm of the tendril thrusting inside you. 

Your breath hitched when the tendril quickened its pace, its thick, writhing form pushing you toward another peak. “Mmf—!” Your cries were muffled by Alastor’s length, his cock throbbing insistently against your tongue as you gagged lightly. Immense pleasure overwhelmed your senses; every nerve ending felt raw, every touch electric. 

The tendril inside you coiled and thrust, dragging against every sensitive spot with ruthless precision. When it pressed hard against your cervix once more, your body seized, and a scream tried to escape around his cock. Spasms wracked your frame as a gush of wet warmth spilled from your core. 

Alastor’s body responded in kind. His hips bucked, his cock surging deeper into your throat as a guttural growl escaped his lips. Thick ropes of his release filled your mouth, the bitter saltiness coating your tongue and sliding down your throat. You swallowed instinctively, your breath shuddering as the tendrils binding you moved once more. 

They flipped you effortlessly, turning you to face Alastor’s peaceful visage. His expression was serene, utterly unaware of the chaos unfolding around him. Shadows curled and slithered along your body, their cool touch contrasting with the heat of your overstimulated skin. 

“Al-Alastor…” you rasped, voice breaking on a moan as the tendrils grew thicker, stretching you to your limits. The slick noises of their movements mingled with your cries, filling the room with the notes of your surrender. “H-how many…?” you whimpered, your words dissolving into incoherence as one tendril flicked over your swollen clit. 

Tears welled in your eyes as another orgasm built, your body trembling with the relentless onslaught of pleasure. Alastor’s earlier promise echoed faintly in your mind—he’d make up for all the missed opportunities.

You hadn’t expected this.

The tendrils’ rhythm grew merciless, coaxing another scream from your lips as they found another perfect spot deep within you. Your body convulsed, overwhelmed by yet another climax, the waves of pleasure crashing over you with brutal force. 

For a fleeting moment, you hated him—hated his unrelenting power, hated his absence at this moment. But beneath that frustration burned something deeper, something primal: a longing for him to see what he did to you, to witness how completely he owned you. 

As you trembled through the aftershocks, you swore you’d make him pay for this. When morning came, you’d demand retribution—a night where you held the reins, where you edged him to the brink of madness. 

But for now, as the tendrils shifted again, coaxing yet another orgasm from your spent body, you could only give in to his power. You clung to the pleasure, to the rare, dizzying sensation of being utterly ravished. 

A weak, breathless laugh escaped you as his arms instinctively curled around your trembling form. His shadows retreated, their touch replaced by the steady warmth of his hands. 

Your muscles quaked as the final wave of bliss overtook you, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion pulled at your limbs. Somewhere in the haze, Alastor stirred, his his crimson eyes opening to find you sprawled and trembling in the aftermath of his power. His grin widened as realization dawned. “My, my, cher… it seems I missed quite the show.” 

“You’ve always had such a soothing presence on my twisted soul,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum that wrapped around you like a warm, toasty blanket. His eyes softened as he pressed a tender kiss to your sweat-damp brow. “I haven’t rested this well in ages,” he added, his words brushing against your skin like a gentle caress.

His arms pulled you closer, his embrace firm yet comforting, as if shielding you from the world. “I’ll take care of you properly in the morning… so rest now, cher” he whispered, his voice trailing off into a soft hum.

You couldn’t help but relax into him, the weight of his arms around you melting away the tension that had held you so tightly. Your eyelids grew heavy, each blink slower than the last, as his warmth seeped into your bones. His presence was a lullaby, coaxing you into a peace you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

As you drifted into the edges of sleep, a faint smile curved your lips, your body thoroughly spent but your soul somehow alight. Indulging in the quiet hum of his breathing, you felt a rare sense of satisfaction settle over you, a fullness that made you feel whole in a way you hadn’t dared to dream of.

But just as the lullaby of slumber began to pull you under, you thought you heard it—soft, so soft you almost dismissed it as a figment of your imagination.

“My love.”

The words lingered, wrapping around your drowsy mind like a bittersweet ribbon. Your heart stuttered, warmth blooming in your chest, only to be tempered by the ache of reality. A faint, forlorn smile tugged at your lips, even as exhaustion claimed you.

That couldn’t be right. Alastor… he didn’t do love. Not in his lifetime, nor the next.

For someone like him, love was an abstraction, a concept too fragile for the sharp edges of his world. And for someone like you, love was a distant star, shining brightly but always unreachable.

Still, it was nice to imagine.

Just for tonight, you allowed yourself the indulgence. To believe, even fleetingly, that you were his love. That in the quiet moments when the world felt so far away, and it was just the two of you, he might feel something more.

For tonight, it was enough.

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[facelessoldgargoyle]

what!!!!

Babs, beloved of my heart, faithful hateful dog to the last, creature born and raised to be eaten in pieces until he was swallowed whole like Jonah. He’s the literalization of cavaliership, as the twins actually take bites out of him. He must be covered in scars except it’s never mentioned, and Ianthe specializes in the flesh. He’s arrogant and petulant and he says what Ianthe is thinking, except when she says it first. Ianthe thinks he’s like a glass marble inside her but he’s bleeding into her from the inside out like a parasitic fungus. He’s trusted with the twins’ terrible secret and they bully the fuck out of him. He fights her after she eats him, when it’s too little, too late. I think about him all the time. This is how Babs can still win.

Your top 3 tlt men do say something about you but it is mainly like. So is your favorite palamedes or john. That's the main distinguishing factor

[shyanonimushb]

(no audio) visible poppers heartbeat outside on the sun. First video where I show my nipples properly... I feel a bit shy and unsure about it, but at least once had to be done...

Done outside on the sunIt was pounding harder than it seems, I could hear the veins of my heart clicking quickly with each beat on my ears. You can't see me inhalate the poppers, but I do. This is two clips mashed together. The sun felt very nice on my chest and skin.

(The censures are to make background less recognisable and to cover a brand)

[itgirlgyu]

ꢾ𓍢ִ໋　‎ ‎‎ ‎ : ‎ how would enhypen react to you farting?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎enha x 𝒢en!reader. ⠀𓈒 ◌⠀humor! headcanons. 🗯 wc ˒ 0654! warnings── ✩͏ this isn't even my fault if you really think about it. it's actually heeseungs fault. ever since he said he liked when engenes fart it has been on my head constantly. ︶ིྀᩧ 𝒫 ls don't read it if you're sensitive. ༄

──HEESEUNG ˒

looks at you with so much shock that you feel like you've done extremely something wrong to him.

but then breaks out in the biggest grin ever.

gets cozy and clingy to you while pulling out an air freshener out of nowhere.

“I've always kept this on me dreaming of day, you've made me the happiest man ever.”

and you're like… okay? but you don't hate it of course.

“that means you eat well silly, I'm so happy. “

sets this as an anniversary date in his phone as "fartversary" in front of you to celebrate and then skips away to reserve dinner reservation to celebrate it further.

──JAY ˒

gazes at you with his eyes brimming with understanding and acceptance.

places his band on top of yours in a silent acknowledgement and you almost tear up with embarrassment but he thinks it's out of love so it works out fine.

says he's going to get the air freshener but comes back with a cake and party poppers.

he really wants to celebrate this new step into the relationship with you

and who are you to deny him.

you see him crossing out something in his phone but you don't dare question the rest of the relationship steps.

──JAKE ˒

you blame it on his dog.

and he's like, “damn i gotta focus on her diet what is she eating to stink up the house like that.“

it makes you want to cry but at least he doesn't pry about it further.

but snowballs into him taking his dog to the vet to see what changes need to made into its diet and you're biting your nails in horror.

you don't know if you should come clean or not.

the fear slowly begins to draw its claw into your skin as you tether on the edge of over thinking that jake is already aware of it.

you let it fester until you can't take it anymore and confess it to him one day.

jake: oh okay.

──SUNGHOON ˒

knows you did it but he doesn't want to embarrass you so he doesn't even mention it.

but you can see him struggling

his eyeballs are shaking rapidly as he tries to talk while holding his breath to make it seem like he really didn't hear or smell anything.

although he's not breathing until all of the smell goes away

he may love you enough not to mention your stink attack but there's no way he's inhaling your toxic fumes.

──SUNOO ˒

looks at you in shock while you're in the middle of ripping it out.

frozen in shock, but in a demure way, through the whole thing.

when you try to make a joke about it, he tells you to cut it out.

it was very traumatic for him to hear you fart for more than fifteen seconds

and he'd like forget about it.

you don't know if you should try your luck or not but meekly you put forth the suggestion that he can do it as well.

but the look of horror and contempt he throws your way makes it clear he would actually break up if you bring it up again once more.

──JUNGWON ˒

does not mention it, doesn't acknowledge it, doesn't even move an inch.

you might think he turned into a statue due to shock.

so you try to ease the situation.

“jungwon i think I did i—”

“no you did not.”

although he's concerned about your stomach so after a while he's like, why don't we try to drink antacid for fun?

──RIKI ˒

gets scared at the sound but then tries to play it off because he's a tough guy.

but he's also a softie inside.

so to make you feel at ease he rips one as well.

looks at you with a generous smile like damn where will you find a man like that?

it may or may not develop into a farting competition.

© ITGIRLGYU⠀⠀. feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated!

TAGLiST @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @beoms-sugar @gyuletters

[simpingforstardew]

lone star

pairing: sdv shane x reader

synopsis: stargazing w/ shane. this fic takes place ‘post-game’ (i.e., after the farmer receives the ‘key to the town’, and after shane begins therapy’). friends to lovers enjoyers rise up !!

warnings: angst, with comfort and fluff; descriptions of poor mental health, depression etc. stay safe. ♡

(this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 1.9k

In the calm of the valley, the night sky stretches out in a breathtaking display: the stars shine proudly, their brilliance undimmed by city lights. Despite moving to Pelican Town four years ago, you're still awestruck by the vastness of the cosmos visible to the naked eye— a sight that would have been obscured by the city smog in Zuzu. Back there, spotting a single star was a rare blessing; seeing one that was not, in fact, just the mistaken dim glow of a passing helicopter was an even greater rarity.

Nestling your head into the sturdy hay bale beneath you, you inhale the earthy scent of dried grass mingling with the crisp night air. Above, the canopy of stars twinkles in a mesmerising dance, each constellation a story waiting to be told. Your gaze flits between the shimmering points of light, tracing the familiar patterns of the night sky.

Beside you, your loyal companion snores softly, a comforting rhythm that grounds you in the present moment. Absentmindedly, you stroke the sleeping dog's fur, feeling the warmth of their body against your fingertips. The bottles of pumpkin juice you had meticulously prepared lay forgotten on the ground, their contents untouched. Your large blanket, meant to shield you from the nocturnal chill, sits idle at your feet.

Despite the breathtaking beauty of the scene before you, a pang of guilt tugs at your heart. It feels almost selfish, you think, to bask in such a gorgeous view alone.

Without hesitation, you rise from your spot beside the barn, stretching your tight shoulders with a huff before swiftly leaping over the hardwood fence. Only one other person in town would be awake at this late hour, and you knew exactly where you would find him. You took a deep breath of the crisp air before making your way down the dirt road towards Cindersap Forest.

“Oh, sure– just let yourself in, I guess,” Shane’s gruff voice murmurs from the kitchen, “I can’t believe Lewis lets you keep that ‘Key to the Town’, fuckin’ bullshit.”

You lean against the door frame, a smirk tugging on your lips as Shane pulls out a steaming bowl of ‘JojaBrand™ Meal for One®: Pepper Poppers’ from the microwave. "Shh, you know you secretly enjoy my surprise visits, Shane," you tease, "Besides, I came over to ask you something."

“Well, are you gonna spit it out, toots, or do you plan on waking up the whole house for this announcement?” Shane grumbles, searching for a clean fork. Years ago, you found his standoffish demeanour frustrating– unfortunately for him, however, it only fuelled your desire to develop a relationship with him; to break down those walls he built up.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to stargaze with me,” you smile, a genuine toothy grin. “It’s a nice night for it.”

Shane’s eyebrows shoot up momentarily as he hesitates, glancing towards you, “You seriously came over just to ask me that?”

“You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to,” you reply, chuckling softly as you push off the door frame and turn to leave, “Just figured we hadn’t caught up in a while.”

You hear a groan coming from behind you, followed by the clattering of a bowl being discarded on the kitchen counter. He had always had a soft spot for you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane sighs, “Lemme grab my jacket.”

The night air is crisp as you and Shane traverse the farm. The distant sound of crickets chirping provides a soothing backdrop to the quiet countryside, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Shane walks behind you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his well-worn jacket; his posture stiff and guarded as always.

As you reach your spot by the barn, you unfurl the blanket and settle against the hay, gazing up at the expanse of stars above.

"So, how've you been, buddy?" you offer Shane a bottle of pumpkin juice, noting the tension in his shoulders. "Feels like I haven't seen much of you lately."

Despite Shane's usual standoffish demeanour, there is a subtle shift in his presence as he lowers himself onto the blanket beside you and grabs the juice. His shoulders relax ever so slightly, and for the first time in a long while, there is a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he turns his attention skyward.

“I’ve been… I don’t know. Good.” Shane's voice trails off as shifts his gaze to the bottle in his hand, his shoulders slouched while his words hang heavy in the air. He drops his head against the rough surface of the hay bale behind him.

Glancing towards him, you note the furrow in his brow and the tension in his shoulders; his strong features illuminated by the moonlight. You resist the urge to press him further, allowing a comfortable silence to settle between you.

Lost in contemplation, you find solace in the vastness above.

After what felt like an eternity, Shane spoke up once more: his voice barely above a whisper.

"Any time I go shopping, like at Pierre’s or when I used to restock the shit they sold at JojaMart, I’d always feel like I’m in the way, y’know?” Shane confesses, his gaze fixed on the black velvet of the night sky. “As if someone is gonna be blocked off by me. And I know it’s not just 'cause I'm a big guy, doll, because then I leave the shop and realise that I still feel like I’m in the way.”

“Do you feel like that now?” you probe, allowing your gaze to drift towards him.

“Kinda, yeah. I always feel like that, I guess,” Shane admits, his voice tinged with resignation. He takes a swig of his juice. “Like I’m some kind of… rock stuck in a stream, with everybody else on planet Earth barging ahead around me—or some other flowery metaphor Elliot’d come up with, I don’t fucking know.”

“Is therapy helping with that feeling? Seems to me like you’re really making progress, if that means anything.” you reply, too enamoured with the contours of his side profile to notice the way his pinky finger locks with yours on the plush blanket. A promise of vulnerability.

“Sorta, but there's a pressure there as well, y’know? Gotta be happy all the time now, otherwise what was it all for? I don't even have a job anymore, I just... I’m just worried that…” Shane pauses, his fingers absentmindedly plucking at the hay behind him, “…Ah, forget it.”

“Worried that what?” You turn to face him, the spectacle of the cosmos long-forgotten.

“It's just that… what if my addiction; shitty personality; tendency to lie about the most basic crap to see people’s reaction; awful sense of humour; impulse to fall in love with someone if they’re nice to me; horrid fashion sense; inability to take a photo of myself smiling: all that crap… are all irrefutable? What if I was doomed to—”

“Shane, don’t—”

“I’ve tried… I’ve tried so hard every day of my life, (Y/n).” Shane's voice cracks, “I just… don’t wanna be a screw-up anymore.”

"Shane, you are not a screw-up," you demur, reaching out a hand to stroke his soft bicep, "You're just… human. You've already taken huge steps by just acknowledging your screw-up-ness and reaching out for help. And yeah, you have been trying, every single day. That's bravery, Shane. That's strength! I'm tired of you being the only one who doesn't see that."

The following silence is only interrupted by the distant chirping of crickets. Shane's eyes wearily scan your face for some kind of tell, as if your response was an inauthentic prank meant to lull him into a false sense of security. The bags under his eyes are shadowed and heavy. Your heart swells. “Repeat after me—”

“(Y/n), please—” pleads Shane.

“Mister Shane Andrew Miller, repeat after me!”

“Yes, Ma'am,” He chuckles, wiping away a stray tear.

“I, Shane, am a strong, brave, and amazing person; and I am going to be okay.”

“I’m a strong, brave, amazing person… and I'm gonna be okay.”

“Louder!”

“I'm gonna be okay!” He shouts— hands cupped around his mouth to bellow into the sleeping farm. After a nervous chuckle, Shane resigns to a slouch as he looks towards you with a blush warming his cheeks.

“Feel a little better?”

“I feel like a jack-ass,” Shane mumbles,“But yeah, a little.”

“Good,” you reach your hand out to caress his cheek, your thumb tracing patterns in his stubble when he leans into the touch, “and you only looked a little like a jack-ass.”

“Fuck off,” Shane laughs, the banter bringing a familiar light to his eyes, as he shoves your hand away playfully.

You both stay like that for a moment after the laughter dies down, embraced by the warmth of each other's silent company— one of you occasionally turning to retell the latest town gossip, or reference an inside joke neither of you can remember the origins of.

“I should, uh, be heading back now,” Shane moves to stand up, groaning as he stretches his legs, “Penny's taking the kiddo to the community centre tomorrow for some arts and crafts, and I gotta be up early to pack her lunch.”

You look up at his looming form, only now realising how long you had both been out here for.

“Of course, no worries,” you clumsily rise to your feet as your lips quiver with a tentative grin, a delicate curve that hovers on the precipice of expression. “Um, tell Jas I say ‘Hi’, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Shane replies, the awkwardness palpable, “Night, (Y/n),”

“Goodnight,” you raise your hand in a half-hearted wave as you watch his slouching figure turn to leave.

He makes it a couple steps, barely out of reach, before a surge of courage propels you forward. Reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Shane’s frayed hoodie before doubt can inhibit your impulsion, you pull him towards you.

Your lips crash on his in a rush of fervent emotion. One of Shane’s calloused hands instinctively rises to the nape of your neck; the other wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer, desperately. Bodies flush against each other as his fingers tangle in your hair.

A tingling sensation runs through your body. You reach up to gently cup his face as he deepened the kiss, his trembling lips continue moving against yours with a gentle urgency. In this moment, nothing else matters - no worries or fears, no past or future, no moon or stars.

Your heart races as you both pull away.

“To be clear, if this is, like, a pity thing or whatever,” Shane mumbles, his lips tickling your own as he attempts to catch his breath. “That’s um– that’s fine by me, I don’t… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“No that wasn’t… um,” You rest your forehead on his, closing your eyes as you attempt to calm your frantically beating heart, “I just… wanted to kiss you.”

Shane laughs as he brings both hands to your face, cupping your cheeks as he kisses you once more. This was different, however: gentle, soft, yet just as vulnerable. You look up at him, eye’s shining with the light from the stars, as you admire the softness of his usually stern features.

“You were right, this was a nice night to stargaze.”

[artstennisracket]

art (weed virgin) getting high with patrick (experienced stoner) for the first time at a frat party, and accidentally getting hard… patrick has to corrall him away from flirting (“i’m just being nice!”) with his tennis team, into the bathroom to tell him to keep it in his pants. art gets all whiny and patrick has to take care of him 😊

there’s actually a scene like this is like this in ch 2 of camp evergreen (my artrick summer camp au on ao3) but just the weed virgin part and then Patrick shows him how to shot gun😏 but shameless plug asideeeee i actually really like where your going with this prompt anon ;)

not proofread hehe

cw: nsfw(18+), drug use, d/s undertones

Art had been high before sure. Other drugs though. He’s done ecstasy, coke, ketamine (by accident), and poppers (he was drunk and persuaded to try, story for another time). But he’s never smoked weed.

Weed was always Patrick’s thing. He would always try to goad Art into trying it but Art never had a desire to. But Patrick would always say “when you lose your weed virginity it better be with me” and left it at that.

Art never liked how it smelled and preferred cigarettes, but he quit when he got to Stanford, inhalation drugs were bad for his lungs.

But now they’re at this frat party and Art is already tipsy, it’s seemingly very easy for Patrick to convince him to try weed.

“c’mon just a little hit?” Patrick asks as he hold up the joint in front of Art’s lips.

They’re sitting next to each other on the couch of a frat house. There’s another guy from the tennis team on Art’s left and a few other tennis teammates scattered around the room. They’re all smoking courtesy of Patrick for bringing “the good stuff”. Art had been passing up his turn for a few rotations but he’s been getting progressively drunker and maybe a little second hand high.

So this time to everyone’s surprise but especially Patrick’s, Art shrugs and lets Patrick press the joint against his lips. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out. Woah. The feeling that washes over his body was kinda euphoric.

He feels super relaxed but also a little dizzy from the alcohol.

“good?” Patrick asks from his place in the couch.

Art nods, taking the joint out of Patrick’s hand so he can take another drag.

Patrick smirks, “take it easy there tiger.” He always knew Art would like it but he wasn’t sure why Art was so stubborn about it.

As time passed on and everyone gets progressively more inebriated, Patrick starts to notice that Art is acting a little…slutty? ditzy? Somewhere in between.

He basically sitting on the lap of the guy who was sitting on the other side of the sofa. The last few passes of the joint, multiple teammates offered to shot gun with Art instead.

“what’s that?” Art asks giggling. Patrick could count on one hand the amount of times he’s heard Art let out an actual girl-like giggle in their years of friendship. But now here Art is giggling every damn second like his teammates are the funniest people on the planet.

“c’mere I’ll show you,” The guy that Art’s practically sitting in the lap of, which Patrick has now learned that his name is Luke. He pulls Art fully into his lap now, turning Art so that Art’s straddling him.

Luke takes a drag from the joint holding the smoke in his mouth. Luke moves his hand to grab the back of Art’s neck so their noses are almost touching. Art lets his eyes slip close, almost like he expects Luke kiss him.

“so fucking eager,” one of the teammates call out from across the room. Patrick is going to have to agree, when the fuck did Art become so easy? This isn’t turning Patrick on at all…

Luke tips Art’s chin down, thumb dragging on Art’s bottom lip until he opens his mouth just a little bit. Luke gently blows the smoke into Art’s mouth and Art inhales it. Art blows out the remaining smoke and bites his lip before he says, “that was fun.”

And in seconds Art is being passed around from one teammate’s lap to the next, shot gunning with them all. Patrick thinks it’s really fucking unfair that he was the one that even convinced Art to try weed in the first place and he isn’t getting any attention from Art. Everyone else is benefiting. Patrick was feeling a little jealous but also growing very hard in his jeans.

“he’s just so fucking pretty right?” Luke asks Patrick, but Luke still has his eyes glued on Art.

Patrick smiles lazily. Art has always been pretty. Pretty like a girl. Soft smooth skin and all. When Art started shaving his whole body years ago Patrick made fun of him for it even though secretly he really liked it. “yeah try being his roommate for 6 years, he’s fucking oblivious.”

Luke scoffs, “you’re telling me you never fucked him? no fucking way.”

Patrick shrugs. He had given up on chasing Art years ago. It’s draining being so close to someone who doesn’t reciprocate any type of romantic feelings so he just repressed his feelings and moved on.

As Art is being passed from lap to lap, his teammates get progressively more touchy. Some of them even grinding up against Art. There’s some exchanges of words that Patrick can’t fully hear, but he’s sure that Art is flirting with every single person in that fucking room. The last teammate fully groping Art’s ass as they shotgun. He tries to have Art stay sitting on his lap even after the shotgunning is over. But Art finds Patrick’s eyes across the room. And Art is fucking smirking. Is he doing this to Patrick on purpose?

Patrick can see the look on Art’s face. His face is flushed, his eyes are glossy and red rimmed from all the smoking. He’s just over there looking all fuckable, teasing not only Patrick but being a cocktease to everyone in the room. Eventually Patrick gets fed up walking over to where Art is sitting on god knows whose lap.

Patrick grabs Art by his wrist pulling him out of the room. There’s some lingering chattering as the team watched them leave. Most notable being Luke saying, “I knew they fucked before.”

Art whines as Patrick pulls him into the bathroom and shoves him against the door. “what the fuck was that about?” Patrick asks.

Art shrugs smiling. His pupils are fully dilated, “what was what about?”

Patrick scoffs, “if I didn’t know any better i’d think you were trying to incite the first ever tennis team orgy at Stanford. or was that not the first time?”

Usually when Patrick gets mad at him Art gets really upset, and usually cries because he can’t physically handle Patrick being upset with him. But at this moment considering Art is high as a kite, it’s kind of turning him on.

Art is biting his lip as he looks up to meet Patrick’s eyes. He doesn’t even respond to Patrick just keeps looking at him.

Patrick noticed that Art is half hard and when he puts two and two together he realizes the state that Art’s in. Jesus fuck. “oh you’re not even listening to me are you baby? just need to be touched hm?” Patrick coos moving his hand to cup Art’s cheek.

Art nods nuzzling his face against Patrick’s touch.

And Patrick doesn’t need to be told twice. He gets to work kissing down the side of Art’s neck while he works to unbutton Art’s shorts.

“i should fucking mark you, leave hickeys on your neck so ur teammates know you belong to me,” Patrick whispers in Art’s ear. Art moans which turns into a gasp as Patrick starts jerking him off.

“this is what you needed right? wanted to be touched so bad you started acting like a slut right? bet you would’ve let them fuck you if I wasn’t here.”

“oh fuck- Patrick,” Art whines letting his forehead fall against Patrick’s shoulder. Art’s hips start stuttering so Patrick knows that Art’s close.

“or maybe you wanted to make me jealous. maybe you wanted me to fuck you right there in front of all them. bend you over the couch and show them who you belong to hm?” Patrick continues.

“please fuck please ‘m gonna cum Patrick,” Art groans as he releases all over Patrick’s fist, making a mess in his shorts.

Patrick smirks pulling his hand out of Art’s shorts, “i don’t remember saying you could cum.”

Blood rushes to Art’s cheeks as he blushes, “‘m sorry i-i didn’t mean to.”

“it’s okay i’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me.”

So they go back to Art’s dorm. And if Art is limping a little the next time he has tennis practice, his teammates make sure to give him hell for it.

[malecardiolove]

**"The test"** Chapter 1

Jack looked at the white walls of the laboratory nervously. It was his first time in that place, a place that looked more like a clinic with a strange industrial air. Everything had been organized by Dr. Ruiz, a man he barely knew, but with whom his father had worked for years. His father completely trusted Ruiz, but Jack couldn't stop feeling that feeling of unease.

Dr. Ruiz entered the room with a cold smile, as if he did not share the same reality as the young man. He had a stethoscope around his neck and a tablet in his hand.

“Ready for the test, Jack?” he asked while adjusting the mask that would cover the boy's nose and mouth. “This won't hurt you, but I need you to follow all my instructions”.

Jack nodded, trying to remain calm. He got on the treadmill, adjusting the electrodes that had been placed on his chest. It was a stress test, something he thought would be simple. What he didn't understand was the need for that strange mask connected to a tank.

“What gas is this?” Jack asked as he felt the mask begin to release a strong smell, something that made him shiver.

“Just a mild stimulant. It will help you maximize your performance. Nothing to worry about”, the doctor responded without looking away from the tablet.

At first, the test started normally. The tape moved slowly, but soon began to speed up. Sweat dripped down Jack’s face as the gas continued to flow. His head was spinning, and the pace of his breathing quickened. He felt his muscles tense, but the most alarming thing was his heart. It pulsed with brutal force, as if it were about to explode. Every breath I took with that mask intensified the sensation.

“Are you OK?”, the doctor asked in a distant voice, observing the data on the screen. “Let's increase the speed a little more”.

Jack tried to respond, but the oxygen was escaping him. Something wasn't right. His vision was blurring, and the smell of the gas he was inhaling was beginning to make him dizzy. He couldn't help but notice a strange, almost disturbing euphoria mixed with the panic growing in his chest.

"Doctor... I can't breathe well," Jack stammered between gasps, but Ruiz didn't respond. The boy's heart raced in a way he had never experienced before. Every beat seemed like an explosion. He wanted to stop, but his legs kept running, out of control. The lights in the lab began to seem too bright, and a loud ringing echoed in his ears.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the tape stopped.Before Jack could remove his mask, Dr. Ruiz guided him to a stretcher. He was shaking and could barely stand. The gas continued to fill his lungs, and when the doctor turned the tank back on so he could breathe more poppers, the feeling of unreality enveloped him completely.

"Now, relax," Ruiz said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "We're going to do an echocardiogram on you".

Images of Jack's heart appeared on a nearby screen. The muscle was throbbing hard, faster than normal. The valves looked more dilated, and the heart chambers pumped as if they were under extreme pressure.

The doctor frowned as he adjusted the ultrasound, watching as Jack's heart looked like it was about to collapse. However, it did not stop the gas flow or the analysis. Jack, on the verge of fainting, heard the distant echo of his own heartbeat like a drum inside his skull. He wanted to protest, but he barely had the strength to move his lips.

Every time he inhaled, the euphoria returned, taking him to a dark and terrifying place from which he could not escape. The last thought that crossed his mind before he lost consciousness was a question: What was Dr. Ruiz really looking for?

[paris9]

wrong place right time

Victoria Neuman x fem!reader

Warnings: Age gap (20 year old reader), dubcon, intoxicated Neuman, Asshole men, threats of headpopping, height difference, reader works with The Boys.

(Might have spelling mistakes. did this quick.)

This wasn’t your first time sneaking through a window but it was your first time sneaking through a window to save your friends ass from getting killed at Tek Knights party. You hauled yourself over the windows ledge, falling onto the soft carpet with a small thump. You tried to make as little noise as possible as you slowly pulled yourself up. You walked down the hallway, eyeing each picture on the wall with disgust. This place really gave you the fucking creeps.

Trying to find Hughie while trying not to get caught was hard. There were so many people here.. and on top of that both the remaining of the seven and Ms Head popper herself (what you liked to call her) was here as well. You made sure to remain vigilant, looking for any clues you could find to where Tek Knight took your friend. You checked different rooms, making sure to keep clear of the main Party room. You were checking out a particular room, your eyes wondering over the fine vintage furniture, suddenly you felt your head throb, and your nose began to leak.

You took a finger and wiped away the metallic crimson liquid, you heard the door open and close behind you rather gently. Fuck! “I knew you and your little group couldn’t stay away. Give me a good reason on why I shouldn’t pop that pretty little head of yours.” Her voice was raspy and patronizing, leaving a very heavy threat in the air. Victoria Neuman. You turn around slowly, facing her, your heart felt as if it was going to explode out of your chest. “I’m not here to cause any trouble—“ she quickly cut you off “you’re always here to cause trouble.” Her voice was almost teasing, her dark eyes scanning your face, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of you. Victoria set down her now empty glass of alcohol on a small mahogany table.

“I promise im not.. I’m just here to get someone out of here.” Your voice shook slightly. You definitely weren’t gonna reveal anything to her. There was a long moment of silence of her just studying you before she let out a simple ‘hmm.’ A long sigh escaped Victoria, “you know.. honestly, I’m actually glad you’re here..” she said simply, taking a small step towards you. You took an equally small step back, she seemed a bit intoxicated. “Yeah I don’t fucking believe that.” You mutter and a half smile formed across her red lips, it didn’t seem fake but you never truly knew with her.

“I’m serious.. there’s too many old men here who keep going on and on about what a woman should do with her body.. it’s insane really. Made’ me wanna pop my own fucking head.” She scoffed, shaking her head with a sigh. You didn’t really know what to say to her, ‘sorry???’ Or ‘not my problem.’ Instead of responding to her you just stayed silent.

“Has anyone told you how fucking gorgeous you are?” The older woman said horsely, admiring you almost.. hungrily? “Even in the most mediocre outfits..” she pointed towards your plain sweat pants and a baggy black ‘AC/DC” shirt. “Erm.. thanks..? Can I go… or…” you spoke anxiously. The congresswoman frowned, her eyes narrowing dangerously, “and why should I let you go? You know how easy it would be to just.. take care of you permanently?” Victoria stepped forward, closing in on you fast. She pinned you against the wall, you struggle but she doesn’t budge, handling you like a small pitiful puppy that just got scuffed for doing something bad.

You closed your eyes, ready to feel something… anything to let you know that she was gonna end you but nothing came. Instead you felt a cold hand travel under your shirt feeling your bare skin, her nose placed in the crook of your neck. She inhaled deeply and let out a hum of satisfaction, “you smell so.. sweet.. like strawberries and vanilla.” Her voice came out slurred. Her hands slender fingers moved up your waist, tracing your delicate skin. You open your eyes slowly, blinking confused and scared with a frown. ‘What the actual fuck..’ your mind was frantic and weirded out. Was she gonna kill you or not?

“Let me go please.” You ask gently. Neuman just sighed out, “you’re right.. I need to at least take you out first am I right?” She joked mainly to herself. You chuckle nervously “yeah.. At least take a girl to dinner first..” you move away from her. Honestly you weren’t too apposed to the idea but the group would honestly kill you or tell you how stupid you are. She watched you, “I don’t want to harm you.. or anyone..” she admitted shaking a bit, Victoria took a minute to catch her breath. She composed herself within a blink of an eye, “you can go.. this never happened.” She said coldly, turning her back to you to study a huge family portrait on the wall.

You felt bad.. honestly you really shouldn’t. She’s a shitty person but just seeing how mentally unwell she was did something to you. “Yeah um.. I’ll go.. but if you do want to get dinner sometime I can give you my number.” You said approaching her slowly. She turned her head towards you slightly, her eyes narrowing, “really.. do you really expect me to just believe you like that? Also.. you’re what..? 19?” She asked raising a eyebrow. “I’m 20.” You shrug, “besides. It won’t hurt my team if they don’t know.” You smile playfully and she rolled her eyes at you before turning away.

“Fine.. no phone numbers and shit though. Only emails.” She said with a huff. You raise an eyebrow and snort, “Emails? Really? Jesus Christ..” you mutter teasingly as she took out her phone, making you write your email in her notes app. This was humiliating for you, truly.

Once you were done Victoria excused herself as if nothing ever happened. You had a friend to rescue anyways so you got back onto that. You did finally find hughie in some type of Sex dungeon?? This place just kept getting fucking weirder and weirder.. who knew Tek knight was such a weirdo (obviously so many people) but you called Annie and Kimiko, who helped you get hughie out of there.

———————————-

Two days later you did end up getting an email from Victoria. She wanted you to meet her at some classy restaurant, telling you to wear something pretty. Which you did. It was surprising how well you two hit it off. Maybe she wasn’t the political Supe monster everyone made her out to be?