#insert maniacal laughing

[hermioneismyrealname]

This is just what I want to happen in zomvivor. Very focused on Net and James.

Hope To Survive

Word count: 2451

Chapters: 1/1

Characters: Net Siraphop Manithikhun, James Supamongkon Wongwisut, Boss Chaikamon Sermsongwittaya, Park Parnupat Anomakiti, zombies

Rating: not rated.

Langueage: English

Hope To Survive

When James finally reaches the places where they knew to meet. He was happy. He was going to see his Phi again. They had made it. Just one more door.

Then his hope shatters. He opens the door and a group of white shirts are fighting with each other. They have a zombie with them. Everyone sees the door open, including the zombie. It changes its plan of attack and heads straight for James at the door. James and Boss are ready.

That squelch was sickening. Everyone stood in horror as Net tried to stop the zombie on his, chasing after it but it turned around and went for the single target. James saw how his Phi lifted his arm to protect himself and resulted in that sound that James wasn’t sure he would be able to forget.

But the zombie held on, biting deeper, there was no way out of this. James reacted before anyone else, before it got worse. He grabbed Boss’s bat and swung. The zombie fell to the floor and with it, so did Net but he was out of the jaws now. James hovered over some former students’ head and decapitated the rotting face from its bloody neck. He kept the shovel with him and threw the bat back at Boss.

His hope convulses through him, draining out of him and breaking him. He can feel it shatter within him. His hope, the whole reason he fought so hard to get to this level was because his phi was be waiting for him. James made him wait too long because now his hope was on the floor.

“Phi!” he runs only to be pushed back by someone he can’t be bothered to recognize. They pin Net’s limbs to the floor now. His eyes are on the one who’s been waiting for all this time. James looks nowhere else.

“Stay away.” Net gasps. He is telling James to stay away and yet, his arm goes up and his palm is open. An invitation that James should reject, fight to stay away.

James reaches for him. He wants to be near him and finally touch him. It was his fault they separated. He was the reason his Phi was left alone. Was he the reason they stayed here and risked getting bitten?

Was he the reason Net was turning into something neither of them could imagine a few hours ago?

That fight they had, was Net so desperate to make amends that he made the wrong choice instead. James cursed him anyway. He should have ran away. He should have saved himself. He should have done everything to make sure that they see each other again. But not like this.

Not when he was moments away into becoming something James had been running from and killing all day. Would he have to run away from Net his entire life?

There was no announcement. Not a sound came from any of their phones. Batteries were dead, except for a couple that were turned off to save power. Only one was on. It was Park’s. Turn one on, when one ran out. That way they would have more time. The government would have done something by know if they could, right? How many more minutes did Net have before he would attack James, the person he swore years ago to protect.

He fought whoever was holding him down. James knew he shouldn’t get closer but the tears were blinding him, the only thing that gave any indication to James that it was his Phi was his strangled voice, begging him to stay away. Others were holding him down, not knowing what else to do.

James knew what he had to do. He had already done for someone else. Someone he didn’t even know and yet in her final moments she thanked him. He knew Net would do the same but he didn’t know if he could. He still had that shovel, still coated in infected blood. The student had been using it the entire time to protect himself, to make him realize that he can get to his Phi and help him.

There was only one thing James could help him with now. To repay for all the kindness, the sincerity, and the acceptance he was able to feel with his arm intertwined with Net’s. For the entire time, they held hands and laced fingers when he cried. He wouldn’t be able to feel that warmth anymore. James was hoping for a reunion hug at least, even if the last words he had said to the other were ‘I hope I never see you again.’

What cruel words. Even if this zombie apocalypse didn’t happen, even if it was supposed to be the simple last few days for the seniors, James should have never said to him. Even if Net was graduating and carrying on with his life. He thought if it was either of them, he thought it would be James to leave the duo, so he made that move. James was the one to make the decision to leave him and whatever they had before whatever future they became together would only hurt him. It wasn’t fair that it took Net so long to finally pay attention to his nong. It wasn’t fair that they only spent 4 years together when he could have had Net all his life and yet James was calling the world cruel when he had good cards and played the wrong hand.

He kneeled down and when the tears gave way to what little light was left in this room, he saw that Net was crying too.

Net was shaking his head. “Don’t come closer.” He said.

But James knew Net better than to trust his words. His body called out to him, but that could be blamed on the bite on his arm. The once beautiful veins that graced those arms that once held James so tight and safe were now turning a sickly green. It was spreading but it hadn’t reached his eyes yet. Those dark, deep black chasms of affection, love and fear. They were pleading him to go and be safe and yet James saw guilt.

James knew that Net wanted to stay with him. He knelt dangerously close, the convulsing was beginning to overtake him. To prevent Net from doing somehting he will regret in his last moment, James, gently nudged the girl away and knelt on his shoulder, pinning him in place and tugged his strewn hair back. It must have hurt but James had to show how much he loved his Phi.

Knowing that there was no way that Net’s lips could touch him, he leaned forward and Net’s eyes began to overflow. James filled the kiss, he placed on his forehead, full of love and affection he was always too shy to return in public. It was one of the many things Net wanted to do, be openly affectionate and show amazing James was but respected that James would rather do that on his own. In private they would hold hands and kiss each other. Surrounded by people trying to survive, he allowed himself one moment knowing it would be his last chance to tell him.

“I love you, phi.” James’s voice breaks. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. There was never a time that he wished to kiss those lips that had always given affirmation he needed. Those words of protection that Net promised to fulfil.

“I love you. I love you, phi. I’m sorry I said all that. I love you. There is nothing more than I want now is to have more years with you. I should have told you when you told me. I loved you then. I love you now. Damn you phi. I’m going to love you even if you try and hurt me or bite me. Even now, I love you even if you cannot say it back.”

James knows he shouldn’t be this emotional, not when everyone’s lives are at stake. But his Phi deserves to know.

Net is fighting. He wills his tears to go away so that he can see James clearer.

“Pocket.” He groans. “My pocket. For you.”

The man Net loves goes still and wide eyed. James undoes the safety pin that kept the contents of his formerly white shirt pocket safe from falling out. He pulls out an open black face mask packet. It’s empty and washed out. Well-kept too. It was the first face mask they had bought for each other.

“Inside. Wanted to gift—" He coughs blood tainted with streaks of green and black. James doesn’t see it.

Instead, he sees the rings. Two identical rings. A silver band intertwined with a gold band. One for each of them. Quickly, he slides Net’s signet ring off and puts on one of the rings in the packet, the bigger one. James wears his signet ring on the other hand as to not lose it, to keep it. James slides the matching ring on his finger, he doesn’t dwell on how he tries the ring finger first or how it’s a perfect size and shows it to Net. His eyes are turning white.

“Yes, phi. Yes.” James doesn’t know what he’s saying yes to but whatever Net’s question was, it would have been a yes.

Net is smiling but its soft now. The convulsions are almost none existent. The calm before the storm. Net’s final moment of sobriety. His hand is free and goes to James’s cheek, he caresses softly as he has always done for his nong. James kisses the inside of his palm. The last warmth he feels before it goes numb was the tears and the softness of his lips that he never got to truly taste. Finally, he knows he loved by his darling.

“We paid our rights together before, na. Don’t worry. I love you always my beautiful tee rak.”

James made sure he hovered over those eyes for as long as they remained brown. He smiles and clings onto those words. He didn’t hear the screams. The groans, the zombie calls outside the glass that was close to collapsing. He didn’t hear anything, not even the protest from the phi he barely recognized. He had one final thing to do.

With the shovel, James stood, towering over him, resting the sharp point on his throat.

James took a final breath and Net closed his eyes with a smile.

The zombie’s free hand flew to the nearest flesh it remembered existed; James’s ankle, but it fell motionless on the floor before it had time to draw blood.

Some creature’s blood now graces it tainted presence on the floor and on James’s shovel. He didn’t waste anymore time. He took advantage of everyone’s shock and pulled rank on them. Everyone ran to the door they came from and James was the last one to the staircase. He didn’t look back and locked the solid door behind him. There was nothing there for him to want to see. He had Net in his memories already and rings to keep safe.

Net lived and died in this life, only managing a life full love for a split second before he returned to the cruel truth that everyone leaves in one way or another. It was time for James to stand up on his own and prove it to himself and to his phi, even if his phi could no longer watch or be at his side. They had felt they had been reborn and met again from their previous life. If so, then they had done their duty to meet again. Their souls would call out to each other and they would find each other again regardless of a different world, time or place. Until then, James had his own life to live and this time, instead of being locked under Net’s arm, he would carry the man he loved around his neck, as close to his soul to remind who he would look for in the next life.

They found the warehouse. A bunch of students had managed to find a place untouched by the hoard of zombie with food, water, and electricity. From scrambling to survive, they managed to save themselves.

The government had deployed troops to schools to save any survivors. The country needed its hope after this catastrophe. The students found a way to keep the warehouse safe from the zombies. They were also armed to the teeth. It was jarring to see a group of teens gravely well equipped to handle themselves. They engineered a way to get the government to this warehouse by intercepting their radio waves in a sound proof box they made from gym mattresses. They had been trying for 3 days with no luck they said.

Soon, life meant staying in a camp heavily protected and monitored by the government. The students who were rescued were interviewed more heavily than other survivors. They had found one school with scattered students, hidden away scarred with only an inch of life left in them. But this group was organized.

So much so that the general took one look at the footage from the body camera and said they would have managed another week even if help didn’t come. They all looked ready to kill even if it was a familiar face. The army was scared of course, but they used them instead. Older people had to listen to high school students on what they learnt and observed from this virus, they were the only ones who seemed capable of talking about it without breaking down so easily.

But every single testimony, every single high school student from that group always had a hand to hold or a person to look for to get them through it. From the government information they still had access to, he was not the oldest. Not the smartest either. No record of positions in leadership or outstanding extra-curricular achievement. This taller but skinnier than most boy was rather a man that held the group together.

James became a man who wore two rings next to his dog tags that broke down when he found out the government had a cure this entire time. A cure that could have been administered even 10 minutes after infection and saved the person. He fell to his knees and cries his heart out for the first time since that shovel went through flesh and hit concrete. His lungs gave out and yet his soul never stopped calling out for the one he loved.

They could have made another survivor and lived…

[crabsnpersimmons]

Boop

another boop!

this time, it's Esther's turn!

oh, look out, Anon, looks like there’s someone here to protect Esther from boops!

[spicylove4ever]

[glow-autumz]

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEEHHE

[madisonthetimewalker]

I wanna give my insert and Adamai a tragic love story but a happy ending

You cannot fathom how much I want this man to have more problems then he already has

I want this man to SUFFER

[nerdygayheretoday]

Was it a fever dream, did Neil Gaiman mush all of ao3 together, did I hallucinate it, who knows all I know is I am going insane and have to clean up after the pieces of my broken heart

[ozlices]

alice would have a blast playing around w pronouns after learning abt their existence. i just know this in my soul as her parent in law

[kudzucataclysm]

u know what imma say it. i love being an instigator

[songbirdsandsugar-moved]

@lettherebemonsters I will make up for the pain I'm about to cause you. I promise. It's your birthmonth, so you'll get plenty of drabbles and graphics and nice things from me over the next few weeks :D

"All that matters is that you know the truth darling. He's obviously just miserable and looking to pick a fight with someone. I'm glad the convention was a success though. Hurry home, we miss you.....I love you too."

The silence was painfully thick. The tension that filled the room was enough to make anyone uncomfortable. Lucy's eyes were bloodshot from crying. It was like being back in that hospital room again after Homelander had put Gunpowder in a coma. Only this wasn't a hospital, and there would be no recovery.

The back of her knuckles were pressed against her lips. She could only stare at the photos spread out on the desk that sat between her and Stan Edgar. He had tried to talk her out of it. Tried to insist that the photos were too gruesome for her to see. She was too close to her due date, she didn't need the added horror of seeing what had happened to her husband. But she had to. She had to know exactly what had been done. That way she'd know exactly what to do in return.

Vought had offered to have him cremated, knowing it would be too much to have him in a casket. At least not an open casket, but Lucy had refused that too. Instead, she'd had Billie make arrangements for Umbrella to obtain the body.

It got to a point that the silence had clearly become unbearable, at least for Stan. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wanted to be empathetic to her, but he couldn't begin to find the words to express his sentiments.

When she finally lifted her eyes to meet his, there was nothing but anger and darkness in them. "How could you let this happen?" She paused briefly, but it wasn't enough for him to have an opportunity to respond. "Why was there no security? Why was there no one to make sure something like this couldn't happen." Her voice rose with each word. "You and Vought are just as responsible. He didn't even want to be there." Tears started to well in her eyes

"Mrs. Colt, we-"

Lucy cut him off as she rose to her feet. "Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it! There is nothing you can do to fix this." She slammed her hands down on the desk hard enough for the pictures to shift.

Stan swallowed. Normally he was perfectly composed, but he'd never met with her face-to-face before. He knew about Vought's dealings with her, even signed off on the payments to her whenever she shared a vision with them. But he hadn't any idea of what to expect. "There were security cameras in the parking garage," he pushed through, trying to break the surface of her anger. "We know who did this, and we will do everything we can to make sure your husband receives justice." He slid the grainy black and grey photo across the desk to her, showing the man responsible standing over Gunpowder's mutilated body.

She lifted the photo up, studying it. She knew Vought wouldn't do anything. They never cared before unless it affected their image. Why would they care now? When Lucy placed the photo back on the desk with the other gruesome images, she leaned over, getting as close to Stan as she could. "I will make sure he receives justice." Despite her small stature, the softness of her clothes, and the fairy-like way her curls fell around her face, there was something almost scary about the way Lucy spoke. And anyone who knew what she was capable of would've been scared.

As she straightened again, she slapped the photos so they went flying off the desk. Then she turned, walking away from him. She wasn't leaving as peacefully as she appeared though. Her typically brown eyes glowed a green hue as she reached out to the plants in the room. Waking them. The rustle of leaves would be unnoticeable until it was too late. She continued as she walked through Vought Tower on her way to the exit. Waking the plants and letting them grow to massive sizes. By the time anyone realized what was happening, the building would be overrun by plants and halfway leveled.

And as for her husband's murderer, the next time he saw the sun, it would be through photosynthesis. She could already see what she was going to do to him. She'd make sure he suffered just as much as her darling husband had, if not more. Images flashed in her mind, things she'd only seen in dreams. Things she wasn't sure she was capable of until now. Flowers would take root in his belly, he'd choke on them as they bloomed from his mouth. The only person going in the ground would be him.

[spiralingguitarist]

made myself as a cherub, sharing a body with my 2022 self because im practically a master at making shitty sub-plotlines for Post Canon High Jinx that involve my past self in some way shape or form. im malevolent, shes benevolent. might draw winged adult cherub me maniacally laughing on top of a metallic roof during the thunder for the Aesthetic. these two are made of and smothered in Weird Plot Shit™.

[mostly-imagines]

At Least I’m Not Alone at the Wake

jason todd x fem!reader

aka how jason feels safe even when he feels like he’s dying

HEY today we’re going to play a game where we practice reblogging fics: if you read this and like it—reblog!! ie, if you like and dont reblog i might block bc im getting sick of the lack of decorum

warnings: angst w comfort throughout

It took less than thirty seconds for the silence of the night to drift into sounds of shrieks echoing off the buildings along the street. The sharp contrast had you and Jason bolting upright on the couch, ears on alert. It only took a few seconds more of listening for you to realize you’re not hearing shouting—it’s laughter. Maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. 

There’s a beat as you both freeze upon the implication, the unsettling realization dropping in on you. You barely have a moment to process it before Jason’s pushing up from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

“Close the window,” he grumbles.

You blink as you register his words before jumping up to do as told, quickly sliding the frame shut and locking it. He returns soon with an armful of towels in hand, and you stand back as he stuffs a couple along the window sill with rough movements. He goes throughout the apartment, doing the same to the other windows. He rounds back to the living room window, looking down at the street with a heavy look on his face. 

You trust that the towels will do their job in preventing the laughing gas from getting in the apartment, but they’re unable to block out the bellows of hysteria.

He backs away from the window, letting the living room wall hold his weight. You both listen to the harrowing echoes with still bodies. 

You watch him, waiting for a reaction. You don’t mean to, but you know you’re looking at him like he’s a loaded spring. You try not to, you know how much he hates how his family does that to him, but fuck, it’s hard not to worry about him. .

When Joker incidents have come up, they’ve usually been something you’re able to ignore or even get ahead of and drive out of the city. But this is raucous and chaotic, clearly enough to shut down the city from the inside. Besides, Jason would be booking it out of here if he thought there was any chance of a clean getaway in this.

But you know he’s got no interest in inserting himself in anything Joker related, especially something so destabilizing. But, while  you know Jason’s family cares about him, of course they do, but you’ve noticed they sometimes put Gotham’s needs first and his second. So the severity of this attack is concerning for you for two reasons.

“Will they…” you shuffle, “Will they need you?”

He’s quick to answer, voice firm. “No.” A long moment passes before he adds on, quieter, “They won’t want me out there.”

You nod to yourself, trying to relax your body. You being on edge isn’t going to help him.

You watch as his head thumps against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He’s tough—you know he’s tough. He can withstand a hell of a lot more than you’ll probably ever even know. But even for Gotham, this is a lot. And even for someone who hasn’t been through what Jason has, the ringing repetitions of laughter are maddening. You wonder if this is what the Joker hears in his head. You wonder if this is what Jason heard.

The intensity of the laughing increases, more people likely becoming exposed to the gas. You think you can hear it in one of your neighbor’s apartments too.

He thumps his head against the drywall again, hands clenching at his sides. It takes one more forceful thud for you to move over to him, cradling your hand to the side of his head, holding him still. He lets you, though he still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Jay,” you say softly, stroking his hair. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Normally you’d try for a bath to calm him instead but you hope the waterfall from the shower might be enough to drown out the noise.

He takes a second to respond, letting your hand bear the weight of his head. “Yeah.”

His voice is splintered though, and his shoulders droop as he stands up fully. He waits to move until you start to lead him, flinching at every spike of laughter. You reach back and take his hand, giving it two squeezes. He squeezes your hand back but doesn’t loosen his grip.

As you enter the bathroom he wastes no time getting straight to the shower nozzle and turning it on. You press the door shut behind you, sealing out a decent portion of the chaos. You decide against turning the overhead light on, opting instead to let the small pink-shaded lamp provide a warm glow that you can easily maneuver throughout the shadows in. You figure he needs a more tranquil atmosphere than the harsh white light the bathroom ceiling can provide.

You turn to him in time to catch him pulling his shirt up harshly, movements jerked and impatient.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm, “Hey.”

He pauses his actions, eyes on the floor.

You don’t say anything else, but he understands your objection regardless. You remove your touch and he peels his shirt off slower, kinder to himself. 

You wait to make sure he continues this method with the rest of his clothes before you start to remove yours.

The downpour of water on the tiles does it’s intended job in creating your own little sanctum away from the noise. You climb into the shower after him, standing in the stray mist sprays that made their way past him. The bits of water that do manage their way to you are hot—not scalding, but hot enough that you know his chest is going to start getting numb very soon standing in front of the stream like this. 

You trace lines over the muscles of his back, outlining them and every little indent of a scar. When you run out of canvas on his back you move onto his arms, right then left.

It’s not until you trace down his wrist that you realize his head is angled down. You don’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his focus is zeroed in on his scar and you’re not sure how long it's been that way. Too long, in any case.

“Jay,” you say so softly that the water nearly drowns you out. “Will you look at me, please?”

He does turn to you, slowly, but he doesn’t look up.

You hold his face in your hands, nudging him to look up at you. He looks tired, drained. 

You know he has to hear that laughter in a different way than you do. It’s uncomfortable and frightening for you, but for him, it’s layers upon layers of the sound he heard while he was being beaten to death. And even beyond that horrible trauma, the reminder of it brings forth every memory of what happened afterwards, not to mention the heavy baggage you know he feels over being here at all. And you can see it all mulling behind his eyes.

“You know I love you,” you tell him with sincerity. His gaze stays heavy and you can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold the eye contact.

You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, catching his bottom lip slightly. Your next kiss meets his lips fully. You have to push up on your toes a little bit but he does the work of meeting you halfway. It’s a slow, intimate exchange, as fluid and serene as breathing.

“I love all of you,” you murmur against his lips. You let your hands fall to his chest, resting as gently as they can over his pecs. “Everything about you.”

You kiss the top of his Y scar, trailing down soft pecks to where it forks off. You feel his shoulders sag a bit, tension forcing its way out of him. You lean down to continue your kisses down the vertical line marking his abdomen, your hands lightly following in your wake.

He says your name painfully, like he’s begging you to stop. You’ll give him partial reprieve, taking his hands in yours and kissing his scarred knuckles. It’s his instinct to push affection away, you know that, but you also know that he needs it. That’s why he doesn’t stop you now—he knows he needs it—it’s just a lot for him all at once, emotionally. Which is why he gives no warning before he picks you up by your thighs and pulls you close. 

He’s got you a full head higher than him and he uses the difference to hide his face in your neck. Sometimes he feels like that’s the only place he can go. He maneuvers you around so your back is pressed up against the wall as you hold each other tight.

You stay in there like that until the water runs cold, and then some. You have to nudge him a bit into setting you back down then, but he does, letting you collect and wrap the both of you in towels. The second the water turns off you can hear the cackling through the walls. 

As you return to the bedroom, he only bothers to pull on a pair of boxers before collapsing his weight onto the mattress. The lack of layers won’t help him any, but you know why he did it.

He can’t always look after himself the way he should—he disregards his own needs and has trouble even thinking of what could help him. You’ve developed a mind for it though—for him—and you know that being exposed and vulnerable like this isn’t going to help him calm down. He prefers being covered up when he’s stressed, it gives him more security, you think.

You open up the dresser and dig through for his most comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He takes them from you, but he looks remiss at the thought of exerting anymore energy right now, so you help him tug on the clothes, successfully blocking out the now icy air from the AC. 

Once he’s fully clothed he pulls you forward to sit on his lap. You stumble a bit on the way but he compensates by holding you very tight, not giving your body any option to fall. His grip on you tells you that he’s not concerned with you getting dressed too, which you’re perfectly willing to oblige.

You have to force him to let you break away a little bit so you can reach over to the nightstand and grab your phone and earbuds.

“Movie or music?”

He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head once at the end of your sentence. You take that to mean music and open up your playlist on your phone, handing him the headphones.

There’s a harsh spike in the hysterics outside, mixed with what sounds like screams, and it has Jason flinching hard. You think you can see tears welled in his eyes as he fumbles to get the headphones in his ears. He takes the phone from you and picks the first song he sees and turns the volume up, up, up.

You shift yourself around so that you’re laying back against the pillows, giving him room to lay down over your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist with a firm grip. You pull the hood up over his head, but keep your hands woven underneath, threading through his hair. 

His cheek mushes against your bare stomach, and with the way he’s laying, you’re sure the earbuds are digging uncomfortably into his ear. He makes no effort to move in any case. You can hear the song playing word for word, and while the noise exposure concerns you, if there was ever a time to let it go, it would be now.

You’re both wrapped up nicely in the blankets and you can only see the tip of his nose and a few strands of ivory hair strewn past his forehead. Despite all the snug layers, he shakes a bit under your touch.

He falls asleep before the problem outside gets wrapped up, and you turn down the music. Not all the way, just enough that he can rest in peace. 

After a while the giggles die down and aside from a few first responder sirens, things get quiet again. About twenty minutes later, Nightwing ducks in through your window and scares the hell out of you. The interaction does not, however, wake Jason up, which is how you know tonight took a very heavy toll on him.

Even though the lights aren’t on in your bedroom you slide down from the pillows a bit more and let the blanket and Jason drown your chest out from visibility.

Nightwing gives you a silent, if not awkward, wave and scans over Jason. Even in the dark can see the worry in his eyes. He looks back up at you and throws up a questioning thumbs up with a tilt of his head.

You nod and he nods back slowly as he takes one more look at his brother before hopping out the window.

You peer down at Jason and brush his curls back gently. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he turns in his sleep.

reblog or get out seriously

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING OVERWHELMING !!! MAX V. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: max wanted her to do a lot of things and he enacted on his goal by overwhelming her.

💌 re:moony's planner request: "overstimulation with max please, like dom!max but body worship ✨."

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, pwp, overstimulation, squirting, praise kink, dom-ish!max, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wear a glove before making love), i have written ✨fuckall✨

note: mmmm yes my biggest enemy rn— i did not do the body worship part (i made it praise instead 🫶). live laugh love him tho. enjoy xx (also! please don't hesitate to give me your opinion or talk to me!!!)

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

his ego was at an all time high. 

but so was her mind. she could’ve sworn that the throbbing she could hear wasn’t adrenaline pumping through her heart but rather her cunt that had been overstimulated by max. 

her tear-stained cheeks were red, her hickey littered neck and collarbones were turning purple from the addictive touch of max’s lips as she squirmed under him. 

he was smiling like a maniac, his fingers curling up against her spongy walls as the speed of his thrusting increased. 

she supposed that being a three-time world champion would do this to a man. not only would his head grow big as he celebrated his victory— his body would also be on fire as he fucked her relentlessly. 

“m- max,” she cried out, her hand trying to push his wrist away as he smacked her insistent fingers slightly. she babbled at the overwhelming feeling that rose in her stomach, “it’s too much!” 

“c’mon, baby,” he murmured, pressing a sweet kiss on her lips as he goaded her into another orgasm, “you’ve got more.”

“n- no! no more,” she replied with a high pitched squeal as her hips rutted against his fingers. “‘s too much! i- hah~ fuck!” 

he chuckled darkly, watching her cunt produce liquid as it trickled out of her. she squirted and whined loudly as the red bull driver smirked.

max tutted, “see? you’re such a good girl. look at this pretty cunt of yours.” he leaned over and traced over her glistening folds with his tongue, humming at the taste of her. “such a sweet taste, baby. fuck. i could fucking eat you all day.”

“mmm,” she murmured, her hips twitching as max continued to devour her cunt like it’s his last meal. feeling her clit being stimulated once more, she let out a soft whine as she told him incoherently, “m- maxie, ‘m cummin’ again. fuck.” 

it was as if max couldn’t even hear her, getting lost in a trance as he inserted three fingers inside her and fucked her once more. 

he almost moaned at the feeling of her cunt tightening around his thrusting fingers, vibrations sending her to a haywire as she mumbled, “oh- oh!” her mumbling turned into screaming, clutching the sheets under her as pressure built up in her stomach. 

she wasn’t even certain how she got into this predicament. all she knew was that, midway through the season, she promised to be at his mercy when he received his trophy by the end. 

she didn’t think that he would go this route: his hips rutting down the mattress as he sought for friction, his mouth and chin glistening as she came all over his face again and again. 

she was expecting him to deny her of everything— like a king of the world— yet here he was on his stomach like a man starving for pussy.

he growled almost immediately when she tried to push his hand away again, his thrusts were getting faster and deeper as squelching noises filled the room. 

her mewls and the filthy sounds of her cunt and his fingers were the only thing that they both could hear— she almost wanted to die of embarrassment and humiliation.

while he… he fucking loved it. 

he wanted her to cum all over him. he wanted her to scream, to whine and to have her eyes rolling back until she saw nothing but white. he wanted her to cry because she was overstimulated. 

he maneuvered her around until she had her back arched and ass up, easily sliding his cock inside her as she sobbed. his hips snapped against hers while his cock drilled inside her cunt easily, filling her to the brim with his girth and length as she let out a cry of pleasure. 

“fuck, schat,” max groaned from behind her, his eyes peering down to watch his cock slide in and out of her hole. “you are such a good fucking girl to me.” 

she only let out a whimper, her walls clenching around his cock as he continued to praise her, “taking me so well with this pussy of yours. takin’ everything you’re given without complaining— you are such an angel.” 

“mmm…max, ‘m gonna cum again,” she dragged out her last word, her tears staining the sheets as much as her cum did. she mewled, “fuck, maxie! ‘s too much!” 

“keep cumming for me, liefje,” max demanded, the tight grip that his hands had on her hips while he fucked her contrasted with his use of term of endearment, “cum all over my cock.”

he could see his cock with ring her cum all around it as he continued thrusting, giving himself a smile of excitement as she came all over his cock as he demanded. 

“see? you listen then,” max crooned, pulling her up against his chest as he bottomed out inside of her once more. 

she reached her high for the eighth time, her walls stilling around his girth. max tilted her head, kissing her as she moaned softly at the feeling of cumming while his cock remained inside of her. 

“let’s see if we can give you more before i fill this pussy of yours with my cum,” max chuckled, making her squirm and mewl. “can’t wait to see my masterpiece, schatje.” 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[squinch-depraved]

Giggly sex? Maybe with schlatt?

yayaya combining this with another ask from @manticore-fangs because i thought they'd go well together hope you two don't mind sharing :3 starts sweet and ends spicy teehee

schlatt kissed your temple as you smiled, the echo of your laughter fading away and leaving you two in what would be silence if it weren't for your favorite cartoon playing quietly on the tv. the two of you had had a fantastic day together, leaving you giddy and nearly drunk off his touch. he loved when he got to spend this much time with you, you were both busy people so it was rare you both had a full free day line up, but here you were.

he joked, quipping lines timed perfectly to elicit laughs from you, and kissed you all over until you were giggling uncontrollably. schlatt loved your laugh, it always cheered him up and he never felt like a joke or bit was successful until he heard your distinctive snort, followed by your maniacal cackle.

but tonight, you were soft for him. putty in his hands, only giggles, none of your usual shrieking or howling. he kept trying to make you break, poking and prodding you at an increasingly rough pace before transitioning into tickling you. a grin broke out on his face when you finally cracked. your frantic, hiccuping laugh as you begged him to stop drew out his own crazed cackle, and he ceased tickling you.

"finally, doll," he chuckled after you had both caught your breath. "just wanted to hear your real laugh."

"it's always my real laugh," you replied, smiling as you swatted at him playfully.

"no, i know, it's just.. i like that laugh. the one that makes you sound insane. i have to earn it, but you always sound so happy." he stares down at you, positioned in between your legs from how he was laying on your chest earlier in the evening.

your face flushed when he slid his hand up your bare thigh under your dress. the two of you had worn relatively comfortable clothes for your date, and he had specifically requested you wear a simple dress so he could access you with ease. once his hand reached your panties, he hooked one finger into their waistband and pulled them off you in one swift motion. pussy laid bare to him, his eyes left your face and watched as his fingers swiped over your wet slit.

"ohh, god, j," you laughed nervously when he began tracing figure eights into your clit. "you make me so dizzy..."

he looked down at you lovingly. "i know, toots. keep makin' those pretty noises for me, huh? love to hear you all stupid just from my touch."

you giggled, spreading your legs wider. "in me, j," you asked through moans. he obliged and inserted his middle finger, pumping it into you and curling it to make you cry out more.

"not enough," you protested after a bit. "need your cock." you grabbed at his lower half and giggled once more when you noticed him gawking at you. "what??"

he shook his head as if coming out of a daze and pushed you back down before standing up to strip all his clothes off. you mirrored him, slipping your dress up and over your head along with your bra. when you laid back down and eagerly looked up at him, legs spread as if displaying yourself for his pleasure, he pumped his shaft in his hand a few times before climbing on top of you and slotting your legs over his shoulders.

"oh- oh! is this how we're doing it tonight?" you laughed again, unsure of what your boyfriend wanted. "just gonna bend me 'til i break?" you said it with a loving smile, but he snickered and made piercing eye contact.

"that's the plan, doll," he said with unsettling confidence. "this is me startin' out nice." with that, he pushed himself into you, inch after delicious inch filling your hole. you whined after a moment of stillness, having adjusted to his size, and he began pounding you. the sound of skin slapping was accompanied by lewd moans and grunts, overshadowing the intro to yet another episode of the long-forgotten cartoon.

you yelped and giggled when he smacked your ass and bent you even further back. "feels really good, baby," you cooed, oblivious to the fact that you were only halfway into the position he was aiming for.

"i know," he assured you, letting you enjoy it a moment longer before fully shifting to be on top, moving your legs, pinning you down, and drilling his hips down into you.

you screeched, dug your freshly done nails that he had picked out into his back, and rambled incoherently about how good he was fucking you. the weight of him holding you down like this rendered you defenseless as he impaled you again and again on his thick cock, and he had a perfect view of your face tearing up. you were still laughing somehow, high off the infinite pleasure he was giving you, except now you weren't in control of it at all. giggling as you sobbed from your approaching orgasm, you tried your best to communicate you were going to cum but if he understood, schlatt didn't say anything.

he only reacted with a, "jesus," when you squirted all over him, making a mess on his expensive couch. you were still laughing, voice shaky and lustful as he continued to jackhammer you.

"pl- aaah! please, j! 's too good!" you wept.

"what the fuck did i do to you to make you cry like this?" he spat down at you. "my dick just that good? huh?" his hips were speeding up and he dug his nails into your skin, determined to leave some kind of mark.

"y-yes, baby, so good!" you wailed.

he growled and continued chasing his high, mumbling a, "close!" before his hips stuttered and he thrust down into you far more forcefully than he had all night. he continued to fuck you, staring down at the pearly white liquid coating his shaft after it pumped in and out, and finally pulled away when you tapped his arm tiredly.

schlatt flopped onto another couch cushion, waving his hand when you went to get up in an attempt to prevent his seed from spilling out of you and onto the couch. "you already squirted all over it, i have to get it cleaned anyway. stay comfy," he said. "ya fuckin' whore."

[billygoat26]

My new favorite Vox lines:

"THIS IS BETTER THAN SEX!"

"NO! Fuck you fuck you fuck you! P*ssy!"

"They're gonna fucking die! They're- they're gonna die."

"I AM SO HARD RIGHT NOW" (POV hate boner lmfao)

"Oh, this is gonna be good!"

*Insert maniacal cackling here*

"FUCK YOU ALASTOR!" + laugh after

So uh- basically anything and everything said in ep 8 I guess?

Silly goobers

[entomolog-t]

OK OK, I love enotional/uncontrolled size shifters as much as the next person, but what about highly skilled size shifters?

Oh I'm running late? Some extra height will add few extra inches on my stride.

This shirt is so cute, but is a little too small... no ones going to notice if I lost a couple inches, right?

Foods really good at a restaurant? Yeah I'll take that to go (proceeds to go home and shrink so they can eat a far bigger portion)

Bonus points if their friends are all really suspicious but just keep gaslighting themselves because it's just so ... odd? Sure they must be mistaken.

Finally someone in the friend group is like, "Has Jake always been that short?" And another friend just stares and them and goes "short?? No?? Jake's taller than me?"

They all squabble, confused that everyone has surprisingly different takes on Jake's height.

They all try to size their friend up without being obvious, with whoever is right being absolutely smug.

The next day, they notice he is a totally different height.

They all have different theories, shoe inserts, posture etc... with one friend cracking a half serious joke like,

"I dunno man, what if he can.. like change his size." They all kind of run with the bit, though none of them take it too seriously.

They go out to dinner and Jake (I'm just gonna keep that name) Takes a fairly large portion home as usually. After dropping him off, one of the friends realizes Jake forgot his wallet and turns around to drop it off, not bothering to knock as he opens the door.

Jake stands there on the table, all 8 inches of him, in total shock. How was he going to explain it? Was his friend going to panic? Would they-

" I FUCKING KNEW IT!"

Their friend stands there, smug and excited, ripping their phone out of their pocket to immediately call the group.

"I WAS RIGHT!! That MOTHER FUCKER IS THE SIZE OF A KEN DOLL- No I'm not high! Dude- just -"

Jake's panicking, hopping off the table and growing to snag the phone from his friend and hold it above his head.

He worries briefly that his friend might panic, but he heres them laughing almost maniacally.

"DUUDE!"

Jake ignores their giddy excitement and addresses the phone,

"Ignore him he's just-"

He hears gasping on the phone, followed by excited jeering.

It was a video call.

[theloveinc]

toji and stepson!megumi.. and their inability to say no to the lecherous chubby lady they call wife/mom.

i’d imagine that toji wouldn’t be all that mad when he finds his son in a reverse mating press under you only a few weeks after he came home from college.. the boy drooling out the mouth while you giggle maniacally at the sight.

hell, he’d probably laugh, not sure how someone as studly as himself could produce such a.. a sweetie.

like sure, your stepson has a chiseled body and a cock rivaling his father’s.. but boy does he have such a low threshold for stimulation.

ugh forgive me caitie for i have sinned.. toji holding poor gumi’s hips in place while you fuck yourself on his cock, the both of you cooing at him for being so cute.

(i couldnt produce many more thoughts for this but please feel free to insert)

I think it's more so that you're unable to say no to them, because they're the needy dogs in the house !!

It's not that college was difficult or hard for Megumi ... but getting home to a cute woman who feeds him and does his laundry and watches TV every night grooming the dogs in a muumuu while cozied up to his dad... it makes his balls TIGHT !! that kind of affection, the kind that he didn't realize he was missing his whole life (but esp. while away taking care of yuji and listening to nobara degrade him in the dorms).

As if it it's his fault for being attracted to you, anyway... not when he's half his father and there you are, practically offering yourself up for him the first time you catch him with a morning wood when you came in to make his bed first thing in the morning...

(If anything, Toji probs told you to be soft with the boy in moments like this, warned you he gets all tense and snappy when he hasn't been babied in a while, and there's nothing like watching his father sucking face w/ a pretty woman to make 'gumi all needy for touch, too)

So when you end up reporting back to him that megumi barely lasted a minute with his cock wrapped up in your boobs... he's just giving up hope entirely that his son will ever find a woman on his own and deciding that you, as parents, just have to take care of him yourselves. i mean, you already said it, he's got the looks and parts to back up what you need in the bedroom, as well, esp when Toji is out for long periods making money for you guys--why not spend some time teaching your grumpy lil son how to fuck?

Holding his hips til he cries, showing him how you like your nipples pinched and played with, how to shove someone's head down on a cock, how to take his nose being shoved into your clit...who's to blame you all for getting a bit addicted??