#it’s like having an itch i can’t scratch

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Ride

Summary: Javi's a ride you can't resist (aka, it's more PWP LMAO)

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: It's all porn again, sorry- Javi's POV, unprotected p in v (pls do not do, but who am I to say), oral (m receiving), Javi is down BAD for you bouncin' on that thang, idk y'all, make men yearn insatiably 2025 is the motto for the year, I don't make the rules

A/N: Hey, remember when I said I was gonna write this and then didn't? Guess who finally finished this thing 🤠 Shout out to @yxtkiwiyxt for gracing my brain with this idea, and to @gothcsz for being insane about it with me!!! @jolapeno I'm dragging you into this, too heheheh y'all, it seems like it's 24/7 horny hours over here, so apologies about being insufferable for This Man™️ enjoy, before someone eventually (and inevitably) calls animal control on me!! (we're also considering this piece a research project, fellow pillow princesses rise up LMAOOOOOOO)

He doesn’t notice the way the corner of his lip has been turned upward since he left your apartment. The strain in his cheek muscles are the last part of his body he’s concerned about. 

It takes everything in him to pretend like he’s did have to waddle to his desk through the office this morning. While there’s a part of him that curses the fact he can’t handle himself the way he used to as a younger man, he’d be lying out of his goddamn teeth if he said that he’d never been happier to be this sore. 

And he’s only got you to blame. 

It’s safe to say his work efficiency is absolutely fucked today. The only thing he has the mental capacity for is the image of you, straddled across his hips, riding him until he was half way convinced he’d never walk again. 

It had started off innocent enough, your body draped across his on the couch, re-runs of a sitcom he couldn’t be bothered to remember playing in the background. It wasn’t long until you had found a way to crawl into his lap, cute and giggly pecks of your lips shifting into a frantic dance of tongues and teeth, hungry and needy. 

“Let me take care of you, Javi.” 

You had whispered it in his ear like a siren song, the sultry promise of your words making him grow harder by the second beneath you. 

It was a luxury he had forgone for too many years to count, to let someone else take the lead- to work herself slowly into his lap, worship every inch of him, and fuck him in a way he was convinced he’d never be worthy of. 

In Colombia, sex was far from luxurious. Better yet, sex was a survival instinct- a way to gain intel from questionable informants or a chance to finally numb his mind from the pressure and terror of the things he’d endured, even if just for a little while. It simply existed as another need, like food or water, a way to keep him alive in the chaos of a cartel ridden country. 

But now, he’s home. He wakes up in the morning to the soft Laredo sunrise and closes his eyes to the cicadas chirping as the sky shifts to darkness, unburdened by the weight of the world that used to haunt him. Now, he slips into bed next to the warmth and softness of your figure, curled in the sheets next to him. 

Now, the world is different, because he has you.  

Sex is no longer a need. It’s an overwhelming want that stirs his stomach every time he sees you. It’s a desire that burns deep in his chest, an all consuming thought, an itch he just can’t scratch. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t get enough of you. 

He still doesn’t understand how you can’t get enough of him, either. 

It’s not your words that solidify his belief that he’s worthy of you, even though every time you talk to him, he’s convinced he can’t breathe- He knows you love him from all the things your words can’t say. Your tender touch, gentle kisses on his lips whenever there’s a chance for them to meet, the way you can’t help but let your hands wander his body until they’ve explored every part of him with a fervent promise of desire. 

Perhaps there will always be a part of him convinced he’s not deserving of you, but with the way you have your hands wrapped around his cock, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, it’s all the convincing he needs for right now. 

It’s not long until your hands become your mouth, tongue dragging up and down the length of his shaft, swirling around his tip before sinking down so deep, he can feel the huffs of warm air from your nostrils tickling the hairs at his base. He’s lost in the warmth and wetness, hand tangled in your hair as he cradles the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down while you take him down your throat. 

As if he wasn’t wrecked already, it’s the devilish grin you shoot him with his cock buried deep inside your mouth, split dribbling down the corners of your curled lips, that has him all but whimpering, soft expletives and moans rapidly spilling out of him. 

He’s so drunk on you, eyes closed and head tipped back against the edge of the couch, he’s barely even registered when you’ve stopped, only looking up at you when he feels the way your weight has shifted, one hand bracing yourself against his chest while your hips hover over his cock. 

“You ready for me, cowboy?” 

He swears that one day that smirk will be damn near enough to kill him, but God knows he won’t let today be that day- not with what you’re about to do. 

All he can do is nod, the both of you breathless as you begin to sink down his length. It’s almost painfully slow, the way you’re taking him an inch at a time, teasing him the whole way down until you settle with him stuffing you to the brim, whining as your hips finally flush with his, taking everything he has to give. 

He’s not sure what higher power he needs to thank that you have the mercy to start slow- anything but the later, and he would have had no choice but to finish right then and there. His arms reach around your waist, fingers dipping in the dips of your hips as you roll them, like he’s holding on for dear life. 

Javi wishes his hands could be everywhere as you lean down to kiss him, that they could grope and grab at the plush of your breasts, cup your face, and smack your ass all at once. He needs you in a way that’s all consuming, a way that lets you know how lucky he is to have every part of you be his, and his alone. 

He’s handsy and fumbling like a goddamn teenager- you know it just as well as him. He should be embarrassed by the little giggle you give him in between the muffled moans of your mouths meeting, but he doesn’t care. Instead, for the first time in years, Javi laughs along with you. 

“Handsy, much?” You tease, nostrils crinkling and lips curling. 

“Can’t get enough of you, hermosa. Can never get enough of you.” 

You grant him one last kiss before you pull away, biting down on your lip as you watch his jaw drop at the way you shift your hips, leaning back to drag your cunt up and down his cock, sliding effortlessly with the way it’s drenched with your slick. 

The once forgiving ease of your pace has dissipated, your bottom half rocking as you ride him. He can’t decipher if the sultry smile spread across your face is from your own doing, or from the way he’s looking up at you, entranced and captivated by every movement you make. 

It’s enough of the second to seem to spur you on, bouncing faster on his length as your hands creep up your own chest, cupping your breasts in your hands to hold them as they jiggle. When your fingers slide across your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hardened buds between your index fingers and thumbs, Javi all but short circuits. There’s an extra ache in the way his cock throbs, watching the show you’re putting on for him. 

There’s something harmonious about the way your moans melt with the slap of your hips meeting his. Sure, it’s lewd, but fuck, if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard, watching you lose yourself in pleasure with the warmth and wet of your pussy wrapped around him. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Look so fucking pretty bouncing on my cock.” 

He’s not sure how he even has the capacity to form coherent thoughts anymore, desperate and needy babbles falling from his parted lips like an endless waterfall of praises, just for you.  

“Feels so good, Javi. So fucking good.” 

Your cocky facade is beginning to fade, eyes scrunched shut in focus with every thrust up and down his length. It hasn’t taken him long to recognize the expression now plastered across your face- Javi knows it’s the reflex that tells him you’re close, that it won’t be much longer until you’re clamping down around his cock, the sound of his name hitching in the back of your throat as you cum. 

Your once methodical rhythm has transformed into something fiercely frantic, arching your back so that you can reach behind and brace yourself on his thighs, fingertips digging deep half moons into his skin. 

He’s too all consumed to do anything but watch, to take in the beauty that radiates off of every part of you straddled across his lap. 

He relishes in the melodic symphony of your moans, muffled and mixed with expletives between heavy breaths, lost in the soft sheen of sweat glistening over your skin, shimmering from the way you’ve all but conquered him, hips grinding down on him, taking all of him over and over. 

There’s a selfish war raging in his head amidst his mesmerization- One side wishing he could stay like this forever, keep you perched over his lower half, cock stuffed inside you until your bodies give out. The other prays you cum sooner rather than later- He won’t until you do, and lord knows it’s taking every ounce of self restraint he has left to make sure that happens. 

Fuck, maybe you really are trying to kill him. 

“Oh f-fuck- Fuck, I’m close, Javi.” You whimper, your grip around his thighs growing impossibly tighter as you furrow your brow in focus, not daring to let your pace falter, not when you’ve found the spot where the head of his cock fits perfectly inside you. 

“Use me, baby. Fuck- use me, pretty girl.” 

It’s not much longer until you’ve reached your peak, feeling the way you tighten around him as you soak his length with your slick, the once steady rhythm of your hips faltering as you cum. 

Your head thrusts back, chest heaving as you cry out his name, over and over, a sound he swears he’ll never tire of as long as he’s alive to hear it. Because when it falls from your lips, it stirs something so deep inside him, knowing he’s the reason you feel this way. 

That you’re his. 

There’s only moments until Javi’s following suit, fingers buried in the soft dips of your hips as he takes one final thrust, moaning into the crook of your neck while he cums, letting your pussy milk him of everything he has to give. 

The two of you have become a hot, sweaty mess of limbs, melting into each other’s bodies, unsure of where one starts and the other ends. But even with your head rested against his shoulder, he can feel the way your cheeks tense to house the smile spread between your lips. It’s only then he recognizes the same strain in his face, the subtle smirk he can’t seem to shake whenever he’s with you. 

It’s also then he realizes, as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to. 

“What’s that grin for?” You tease, sitting up to plant gentle kisses on his cheeks, brushing away the dark curls dangling over his forehead. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

“Well, good thing I feel the same then, huh?” 

Both your smiles stretch wider as he cups your jaw in his palm, his hand just big enough to let the ends of his fingers wrap around the back of your head, pulling your mouth to his, letting your lips lock for a moment before you break away. 

“Thanks for the ride, cowboy.” 

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

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@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[misctf]

The Cure for a Break-Up

“I still can’t believe it.” Josh mumbles, flipping through old pictures on his phone, “I really didn’t see it coming.”

Tanner looked up from his videogame and shrugged, “Dude, it’s a break up. Shit happens.” He scratches his wiry pit hairs, scrunching his nose at the smell of his own BO, “How long are you gonna go on about it?” Josh glares at his roommate, “Just sayin’ dude, gotta bang and go. Keep it simple.”

“Yeah, but Haley...” Josh sighs, “You wouldn’t get it. She wasn’t like one of your random hookups. I met her in high school... We’ve been dating for years... I was gonna propose when we graduated... I...” Tears threatened to fall.

“Fuck dude!” Tanner slams his controlled down, “I fuckin’ lost.” He glares up at his roommate, “You’re killin’ my vibe dude.”

He walks over to Josh, “Wipe those tears and man the fuck up.” He digs his finger into Josh’s chest, “I could handle a few days of this. Shit, we didn’t say anything when you fucked up on the field last week. But now? It’s gettin’ old roomie.”

“Fuck off Tanner, I...”

“Live a little bro. You’ve been banging the same chick for the last 7 years.” Tanner smirks, “You have a chance to really enjoy yourself now. Be free, bro.”

Josh let out a grunt as Tanner grabs a fistful of his lean pecs and gives them a firm squeeze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Josh recoils and moves away from his roommate, “I’m not into that... Huh?”

Josh can’t help be feel an inexplainable warmth radiating out from his pecs. He brings a hand to them, the feeling of the fabric against his sensitive nipples causing him to moan. He looks up towards Tanner, who is sporting a smug smirk.

“What did you.... oooooohhhhhhh...” Josh moans as his lean pecs start to swell.

He can feel them press against the fabric of his shirt, straining against it. The two mounds of flesh continue to grow, forming into a pair of squeezable muscle tits. And as Josh lifts his shirt to inspect them, another moan escapes his mouth. Just the feeling of the cool air against his nips and bounceable pecs was enough to cause his dick to stir.

“Oh fuck...” He plays with his pec, biting his lip, “Dude... what...”

But there’s more to it. Josh looks as his hand seems to thicken and become meatier. Muscle packs on to his forearms and travels up to his shoulders, giving his arms an impressive glow-up. The firm muscles of his bis and tris jutting out, putting even more strain on his tightening shirt. Even his shoulders start to widen, causing his shirt to ride up and expose his stomach, which is contorting and shifting.

“This isn’t possible... Tanner...” Josh grabs his head and closes his eyes, “Tanner I can’t...”

“J-man, ya gotta shut up for once.” Tanner mutters, “Most men would fuckin’ kill for a pair of tits like that.” He walks over and grabs a fistful, “And my man, this is just the start.”

Josh lets out another grunt as his torso expands and widens. Each pulsation sending a wave of pain and pleasure through Josh’s expanding body. Through half-lidded eyes, he looks down and grunts as his shirt finally rips away. His eyes widen in surprise. A red tank-top covers his torso, although truthfully it did little to hide what was underneath. His fat pecs jutted out around it- unable to be contained. And he could appreciate the itching as tiny hairs emerged from his once clean-shaven skin.

“Give ‘em a squeeze, you know you want to.” Tanner chuckles.

“Fuck yeah...” Josh mutters, realizing he sounds drunk. He brings his meaty hand to his pecs, giving them a tender, loving squeeze, “Oh shit...” He scrunches his nose as the musky smell from his pits tickles his nose, “I smell...”

“Fuckin’ great man.” Tanner interjects, “C’mon, give it a whiff.”

And Josh raises his increasingly muscular arm and does just that. The smell of his own musk sets off something primal in his shrinking brain and he grabs his cock with his meaty hand. Memories and images of himself shift within his mind, where an increasing acceptance of these changes blossoms. Memories of date nights turn into one-night fuck sessions. His dreams of a family shift into a series of kinks and ways to get off.

“Tanner...Please...Don’t....” Josh grunts, a swelling sense of pride in his muscles emerging. A total disregard for anyone else burning away his capacity for deep emotional connections.

"Bro, I told ya." Tanner replies, "Its a lot better this way. Trust me."

Josh wants to argue. To tell him he's wrong. But he realizes with a sense of increasing dread he doesn't recall anything different. No memory of his committed relationship. No desire for anything different. He bites his lip- savoring the feel of his body. His masculinity. His ability to get what he wanted, when he wanted.

“Fuck... why didn’t you do this to me earlier?” He breaths out, continuing to pump his engorged member- its girth and length growing in his calloused hand, “You fuckin’ held out on me, bro.”

“Nah man, I don’t think you wanted this.” Tanner shrugs, “After all you and Haley...”

“Who?” Josh’s voice ragged.

Tanner smirks, “Exactly, broski.”

Josh grunts and pulls the tank-top off- his musk filling the room. He grunts at the site of his meaty pecs, firm abdominal muscles, and the blanket of hair covering his growing body.

“I’m a stud.” He mutters, “A beast.”

“Yeah, yeah Josh.” Tanner replies.

“No for real, dude. Take a fuckin’ look.”

Josh moans as a tattoo becomes engraved in his meaty pec and arm. He looks at it, a grin spreading across his face. He firmly grabs his cock and falls to the couch, pumping relentlessly. He was made for this. A bull with a massive cock. Anyone... everyone would be lucky to pleasure it. He throws his head back, not even registering as his jaw squared out, his eyes dull, and light stubble emerges on his cheeks.

“Oh god yes.” His voice is deeper, carrying an arrogant air to it, “I’m gonna... I’m....”

He sees his body. The muscle, the hair. The smell of his ripe pits. His massive dick. It felt so right... so good... A deep love for himself bathed his neurons. No one was as good as him.

"Ahhhhhh fuck yes...."

Ropes of sticky cum shoot from his monster of a cock, coating his hairy chest and abdomen. After a few ragged breaths, his dull eyes open and he grins.

“Feel better?” Tanner asks, throwing Josh his tank-top.

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Josh catches it and wipes away his seed before wearing the tank-top, “Never felt anything but great.”

“Sure stud.” Tanner sits on the couch, getting back into his videogame.

The two sit in silence, while Josh scrolls through his phone with one hand and paws at his cock with the other.  

“Fuck yeah.” Josh smirks and stands up, “That fairy from econ wants to worship these.” He gives his pec a bounce, “Always knew he wanted to. He’s lucky I’m feeling generous.” Another ding on his phone and his smirk widens, “And that slut from the cheer team wants to meet up later.”

“Look at you go.” Tanner remains focused on his game.

“Pfft have fun with your game, bro.” Josh mumbles, “Wastin’ your time if you ask me.”

Tanner watches as Josh leaves, “Fuckin’ finally. Just need to rank up...” He continues to play his game, no longer bothered by any distractions.

Meanwhile, Josh sat in his car. He always liked to send his next fuck-toy a preview of what was to come. With a satisfied smirk, and a new lease on life, Josh revved his engine and headed off.

[heeluvv]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐖.ᐣ.ᐟ

pairing ﾒ stalker! sim jaeyun x reader

genre ﾒ smut

warnings ﾒ dubcon, gore (?), p in v, unprotected sex, mean jake, dom jake, degradation kink, etc.

natty's notes ﾒ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

it starts small. subtle things. things you could brush off if you weren’t paying attention.

a missing sock. a door you swore you locked, just slightly ajar when you wake up. the nagging sensation that something in your room has been touched, moved, rearranged—so minuscule it feels ridiculous to mention. but still, the feeling lingers, sinking into your skin like an itch you can’t scratch.

then you start seeing things that shouldn’t be there.

a smudge of fingerprints on your bedroom window—too high up for you to have left them. a shadow in the corner of your eye that vanishes when you turn. at first, you tell yourself it’s nothing. paranoia. a trick of the mind.

until the first package arrives.

it’s small, wrapped neatly in brown paper, sitting on your doorstep like some forgotten gift. no name. no return address. just waiting. you hesitate before picking it up, a chill creeping down your spine, but curiosity wins. the twine is stiff, rough beneath your fingers as you pull it apart, and the paper peels away like dead skin.

inside, a finger. severed at the knuckle, the nail still painted that soft pink you recognize from earlier that day.

your stomach twists violently. your vision blurs at the edges, breath coming in ragged gasps as you fumble with the tiny note tucked beneath it. the handwriting is sharp, aggressive, like the words were carved rather than written.

“you let her touch you. so i took care of it.”

the world tilts. nausea rises in your throat. you know whose finger this is.

you saw her today. your coworker, yuri. the one who smiled too much, who laughed at all your jokes, who reached out—just once—to brush something off your sleeve.

you gag and drop the box, stumbling back, your pulse hammering in your ears. hands shaking, you grab your phone, fingers slipping over the screen as you try to dial, try to call for help—

but when you look down again, the box is gone.

the doorstep is empty. the blood is gone.

like it was never there at all.

the police don’t believe you.

of course, they don’t.

there’s no package. no finger. no proof.

the officer’s eyes flicker with barely restrained amusement as you try to explain, as you insist that it was real. that you saw it, that you touched it. but there’s nothing. no camera footage. no signs of a break-in.

“maybe you should get some rest,” they say.

you stop sleeping after that.

but the packages don’t stop.

the next one comes a week later. you don’t open it. you can’t. but the smell seeps through the paper—raw and metallic, thick enough to make your head spin.

you know what’s inside before you even see the note.

“he liked talking to you. not anymore.”

your hands tremble as you shove it into the trash, as you tell yourself to move, to leave, to run—but where?

he is everywhere.

you feel him in the spaces between your ribs, in the silence of your empty apartment, in the weight of your own shadow stretching long against the pavement.

you try to be careful after that. you stop talking to people. stop making eye contact. stop leaving your house unless you absolutely have to.

but he still finds ways to remind you that you’re his.

a handprint smeared against your mirror in the dead of night.

your window left cracked open, letting in the scent of something dark and decayed.

your bed, once familiar, feeling wrong when you wake up—like someone else has been there.

like someone else has been laying beside you.

and then, one night, he lets you see him.

it happens so fast you barely register it at first.

the door clicks shut behind you, the sound too controlled, too deliberate. the air shifts, thickening, suffocating, pressing against your skin like unseen hands. you know you’re not alone before you even turn.

but when you do—

he’s there.

standing in your bedroom doorway, head tilted, lips curled into a lazy, almost bored smirk.

your heart seizes, a strangled sound catching in your throat. his presence is wrong—he should not be here, he should not be here—but he is. perfectly at ease, as if he’s always belonged in this space.

as if he’s been here before.

your voice is barely a whisper. “how did you get in?”

jake laughs. soft. amused. like the answer should be obvious.

“sweetheart,” he murmurs, taking a step closer, slow and unhurried, his eyes never leaving yours. “i’ve always been here.”

the floor feels unsteady beneath you. you stagger back, reaching blindly, fingers closing around the nearest object—a lamp, small and fragile in your grip, but the only weapon you have.

he sees it. of course, he does.

his smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with something dark, something hungry.

“oh, baby,” he drawls, low and taunting, “do you really think that’s going to stop me?”

and then he moves.

his hand finds your throat with terrifying ease, fingers wrapping around the fragile column like they were always meant to be there. rough, calloused palms pressing in, tightening, cutting off the air before you can even think to take a breath. panic surges, a white-hot wave that makes your body jerk involuntarily, makes your hands scramble against his arm, nails digging in, desperate to loosen the crushing grip—

but it’s useless. he’s stronger. he always has been.

your mouth parts, a choked gasp slipping out, but there’s nothing—no relief, no air, just the slow, suffocating burn creeping up your throat. your chest heaves, lungs straining, a frantic, instinctual attempt to pull in oxygen that never comes. black spots bloom at the edges of your vision, and you realize, distantly, he’s enjoying this.

his other hand moves, slow, deliberate. reaching into his pocket, fingers brushing against the worn handle of something sharp—something deadly.

a knife.

the gleam of the blade catches the dim light as he pulls it free, the cool metal glinting with cruel intent. your body jerks again, a useless attempt to get away, but the grip around your throat only tightens, an amused hum vibrating in his chest.

“shhh, baby,” jake coos, voice deceptively soft, “you’re shaking.”

you are. trembling beneath him, limbs twitching as every nerve in your body screams at you to run, fight, escape—but you can’t. you can’t even move.

the knife touches your cheek, the first press so light it’s almost a caress. cold steel kissing burning skin. he drags it down slowly, tracing the delicate curve with the kind of care that makes your stomach turn, like he’s savoring every second.

a choked whimper escapes you, your body thrashing in his hold, but it only makes him chuckle. the sound is low, indulgent, mocking.

“you’re so fucking stupid sometimes, baby...”

his grip on your throat eases just enough to let you suck in a ragged breath, lungs screaming for air, but before you can even process the relief, the knife presses harder. not enough to cut—not yet—but enough to make his intent clear.

his eyes darken, gaze drinking in the panic spilling across your features, the tears clinging to your lashes, the helpless tremble of your body beneath his. his smirk is lazy, taunting, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement as he tilts his head.

“you never learn, do you?”

his fingers flex around your throat again, testing, controlling. the knife tilts, pressing just a little deeper—just enough to break the skin. a thin line of warmth trickles down your cheek, slow and deliberate, as he watches with the kind of fascination that makes your stomach lurch.

you try to whimper, beg, plead— but all that comes out is a strangled, broken sound.

he laughs again, soft and cruel.

“that’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tilting the knife, watching as more red beads at the surface. “you’ll learn eventually.”

“one way or another.”

the blade presses against your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt, its edge cold, unforgiving. you flinch, body instinctively trying to curl away, but there’s nowhere to go—nowhere to hide from him.

his breath is steady, unhurried, as he drags the knife downward, slow and deliberate, tracing the shape of your body with cruel precision.

"should we take this off?" he murmurs, but the question is meaningless. a formality. he doesn’t wait for an answer—he never does.

with one sharp flick of his wrist, the fabric gives way beneath the blade, splitting open like fragile paper, exposing your skin to the cool air. the ruined pieces of your shirt hang limply, a useless barrier between you and him.

he exhales softly, like he’s savoring the moment, his free hand brushing over your newly exposed flesh with an almost reverent touch.

"i've waited for this, baby..." his voice is low, thick with something dark, something possessive.

he leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear before his tongue flicks out, warm and wet, lapping at the tears streaking down your cheek.

you whimper, the sound involuntary, humiliating. your body betrays you in ways you don’t understand, don’t want to understand. your pulse pounds beneath his fingers, a frantic, desperate rhythm, but your limbs feel useless, heavy, caught in the sickening haze of fear and something worse—something you refuse to name.

you should feel disgusted. terrified. and you do. but you also feel something else. something undeniable, something that twists deep in your stomach and pools lower, something that makes your thighs press together instinctively.

he notices. of course, he does.

his smirk is lazy, amused, like he’s already won.

"you can’t hide from me," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the fresh cut of fabric, dipping lower, teasing, toying. "i feel you, sweetheart."

his hand presses against your lower stomach, fingers splayed, possessive.

"i always do."

your body reacts before your mind can catch up. heat coils, shame burning through you just as fiercely as fear, because no matter how much you try to deny it—

you’re his.

and he’s going to make sure you never forget it.

without hesitation, he forces you down onto the mattress, the weight of his body pressing into yours, trapping you beneath him like prey caught in the jaws of a predator. his breath, hot and ragged, fans across your skin as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, teeth sinking in without mercy. the sharp sting tears a cry from your throat, but it only seems to spur him on, his mouth latching onto the delicate flesh, sucking, biting, marking. pain and heat blend together, leaving behind cruel bruises that will linger for days.

the knife he once held, gleaming and sharp, now lies abandoned on the floor, forgotten in favor of something far more brutal. both of his hands, large and calloused, clamp around your wrists, pinning them above your head with an unforgiving grip. you struggle, but it's useless—his strength easily overpowers your feeble attempts to break free.

"s-stop... please s-stop..." your voice trembles, choked with sobs, eyes brimming with tears that spill down your cheeks. the words come out weak, broken, barely above a whisper. you twist and writhe beneath him, desperate to shake him off, but every movement only seems to make him tighten his hold, his body pressing down harder.

shame creeps into your veins like poison when a sound betrays you—a soft, involuntary moan slipping past your lips at the way his mouth works against your neck. his touch is cruel, unrelenting, yet something about it ignites a twisted sensation deep inside you, something you don't want to acknowledge. you hate it. you hate him. but your body, treacherous and weak, reacts in ways you can't control.

his lips curl against your skin, a low chuckle vibrating in his throat. he knows. he feels it. and he revels in it.

"that's more like it," he murmurs, voice dripping with sadistic amusement, his grip on your wrists tightening until it hurts. "go on, beg some more. let's see how much you really want me to stop."

the words make your stomach twist in horror, but it's already too late. you've given him exactly what he wanted—a reason to keep going.

his hands fumble urgently with your pants, tugging them down along with your panties in a rough, impatient motion. he parts your thighs, a low groan escaping his lips as he reveals your most intimate place.

"oh fuck, baby…" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he presses his mouth to your core. loud, uncontrollable moans escape you, your body trembling from the sudden, relentless pace he sets.

his tongue explores you, harsh and hungry, savoring your taste as he grunts against you, the vibrations sending cold shivers up your spine. "p-please… uh--n-no.." you stammer, but your moans betray your true feelings. you surrender, giving in to the futility of resistance. your body revels in his dominance, his control sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"fuck, baby, you taste so fucking good," he whispers, his voice a raspy growl against your flesh.

his tongue embarks on a sinuous journey along the quivering walls of your most intimate sanctum, his hand slowly relinquishing its vice-like grip on your wrist only to plunge his fingers into your depths. the intrusion sends a wave of sensation crashing through you, drawing a raw, primal scream from your lips as your back arches sharply off the mattress, every nerve ending alight with a bewildering mix of pain and pleasure. it's overwhelming, a tempest of sensation that leaves you confused, torn between the ecstasy and the agony, unable to discern what you truly feel. Your moans morph into loud, desperate sobs as you writhe beneath him, your body a canvas of conflicting emotions. "please!" you cry out, a futile plea for mercy or release—you no longer know.

"shut the fuck up, and take what i give you," he growls, his fingers increasing their relentless pace as he withdraws his touch from your body. his eyes, dark and predatory, meet your gaze, now glazed and unfocused from the onslaught of sensation. a harsh, mocking chuckle escapes his lips, his fingers never ceasing their brutal rhythm. "so fucking stupid, look at you. wanted me to stop earlier, only to be begging for more now, huh whore?" he taunts, his fingers delving deeper, reaching places within you that ache and throb, making it increasingly difficult for you to endure. your legs curl up to your chest in a futile attempt to protect yourself, but his pace does not decrease, his assault on your senses unyielding and merciless.

the tension in your body builds as you clench desperately on his finger, the coil in your stomach tightening like a vice with each passing moment. you're balancing on the precipice, the sensation overwhelming, your eyes rolling back as your body begins to tremble from the exhilarating high that's agonizingly close. but just as you're about to tumble over the edge, he cruelly withdraws his fingers, leaving you hollow and aching. a whine escapes your lips, a primal sound born of frustration and longing, but he merely tsks, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "bitches like you get told when to cum."

he fumbles with his pants, the sound of his zipper cutting through the air like a knife. he drags them down slowly, hissing as the cold air kisses the heated skin of his thick, hard cock. ropes of precum slide down his impressive length, glistening in the dim light. he leans down, his shaft sliding up and down your slick, eager flesh, but never quite entering. you can feel the heat of him, the pulse of his arousal, and it's maddening. his hand finds your throat, his grip firm, commanding. "beg for it, whore," he growls, his voice a dark, intoxicating whisper. "tell me you want it."

your voice is barely a whisper, your words broken and stuttering from the harsh grip on your neck. "p-please… i-i w-want… more…" you manage to gasp out, your eyes watering, your body trembling. he bites his lip harshly, his eyes flashing with lust and dominance as he enters you in one harsh, brutal thrust. his grip on your neck tightens as he holds himself up, his hips moving like a piston, each thrust hard and unyielding. he throws his head back, a guttural "oh fuck!" tearing from his lips, his body glistening with sweat, his eyes wild and feral.

your body convulses with each powerful thrust, spine arching, shoulders grinding against the headboard. a symphony of creaks and groans escapes the aged wood, but you're lost in a haze of sensation, too far gone to heed the bed's protests or make him stop. your body quivers beneath him, lungs burning as his relentless rhythm robs you of breath. he doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps he just doesn't care, lost as he is in his primal dance. his guttural moans and grunts fill the air, head thrown back, tendons taut in his neck, as he ravages you with a brutal, almost punishing, pace.

abruptly, his movements still. strong arms lift you effortlessly, your body slick with sweat, and he slams you against the cold windowpane. the glass shudders under the impact, but holds, and any fear of it shattering is swiftly eclipsed by the feel of him invading you once more, harsh and demanding. a loud sob wrenches from your throat as his hand finds its way back to your neck, fingers pressing firmly into your flesh.

"you like it baby, don't you?" he growls, his breath hot on your ear, his voice a low, taunting rumble. he thrusts deeper from this new angle, his body claiming yours with a savage intensity. "fucking you here, against the window, for all the world to see. so everyone knows you're mine." his words are a dark, possessive spell, casting a sinister shadow over your writhing, entwined forms.

the notion that you would one day find yourself entwined in a carnal embrace with your stalker was utterly foreign, completely outside the realm of your wildest imaginings. fear should be coursing through your veins, every instinct screaming for you to flee, to break free from his grasp. but you know, with a cold and heavy certainty, that escape is an illusion. there's no turning back now, no retracing your steps. his grunts, primal and guttural, crescendo into loud, echoing moans, his head draped heavily on your neck as he continues his relentless, brutal rhythm.

"you're going to cum when i tell you to," he commands, feeling your body tensing, teetering on the precipice of release. but you're not sure you can hold back the flood any longer. the sensation of his thick, hard cock driving so deep into you, striking that secret, sweet spot with every merciless thrust, is overwhelming. it's a storm building, a wave crashing, and when it breaks, it's cataclysmic. you feel it coming, and it's too late to stop. you explode around him, your screams filling the room, raw and ragged, your body convulsing violently with an orgasm that feels like it's tearing you apart.

"fucking whore," he growls, his voice a low, menacing rumble, his hips never pausing, never slowing. "you wanted to cum? now you're never going to stop." his relentless abuse continues, unabated, a storm of sensation that shows no sign of ending.

natty's notes ﾒ might not be everyone's cup of tea but it's mine so idc, hope you enjoyed!!

[cryptidafter]

A Love Letter to GagaOoLala

If you, like me, have recently discovered (or rediscovered) the wonderful world of non-western queer media then I highly recommend you get a subscription to GagaOoLala (no I am not being paid for this. I love Gaga that much lol)

Look, I know what you’re thinking: “Why would I pay for another streaming service?” But, hear me out. Gaga offers a treasure trove of engaging, thoughtful, and unique queer media. Indie films, TV shows, old stuff, new stuff. AND IT’S ALL GAY! Whenever I want to watch something new, Gaga is the first place I go. I know I’m guaranteed to find something that suits my tastes or that scratches a particular itch. Gaga’s catalog puts Netflix to shame. 

I’ve seen so many posts and videos about people hungry for more queer media. They don’t like the little variety they’re given. I get it, it sucks when you can’t find any mainstream media representation…but here’s the thing. IT’S OUT THERE. Once you look past your own shores, you’ll find that so many other countries are putting out the queer shows you’re craving. I’m an American so I speak from a US perspective: PUSH PAST YOUR OWN BOUNDARIES AND OPEN YOUR MIND TO SOMETHING NEW. 

Gaga has shows from Korea, Japan, Thailand, France, Spain and more. I’ve learned so much about different cultures and regions from the writers and directors who make these shows/films. It’s a refreshing change of pace and a much needed reminder that the queer experience (despite a few societal or cultural differences) is universal. As Bong Joon Ho so eloquently stated: "Once you overcome the 1-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films."

You want some examples of what Gaga has to offer? Here are just a small selection of some of my favorites: 

Fragrance of the First Flower (Taiwan)

A delightful short series (season two airs on February 18th!) about two women, Yi-Ming and Ting Ting, who reconnect years after high school and rekindle a relationship. Yi-Ming is in an unfulfilling marriage and afraid to live openly due to fear of judgment. Ting Ting is a free spirit who’s confident in herself and her desires (though she also has secrets of her own). I can’t recommend this show enough for those who enjoy high tension and drama with heartfelt moments of tenderness and vulnerability. 

Su Hee (Korea)

A short film about Su Hee, a young woman stifled by the overbearing presence of her devoutly religious mother, who finds solace and connection at church through the pastor’s daughter, Han-na. This one is beautifully filmed and acted. I’ve watched it probably five or six times at this point. Despite only having a runtime of only 25 minutes, the story manages to flow well and the emotional punches hit hard.

Yes Or No (and the sequels) (Thailand)

A movie that’s credited as the first lesbian film from Thailand that features a butch lead! Pie moves into a new college dorm and is shocked to find that her roommate, Kim, looks and dresses like a boy. Despite early bumps in the road, their relationship gradually develops until romance starts to bloom! This one is so wonderfully mid-2010s in presentation. I loved both of the main leads and it’s great to have a film with a more masculine presenting romantic interest! 

Honorable mentions (aka other stuff I really, really loved because this post is already too damn long): 

Sleep With Me

Chaser Game W 

Call Me By No Name (on-going)

Sipjangsaeng (did I understand this movie? No. Did it compel me? Yes.)

Candy Rain 

As lesbian media is my obsession right now, I asked my friends and fellow Gaga enthusiasts @technicallyverycowboy & @lugarn to give me some of their personal recommendations that cover other shades of the queer spectrum: 

Shadow (Thailand)

Set in 1999, it's about a teenager named Dan who transfers to an all-boys Catholic high school and becomes entangled in the mystery of a former student, Trin, who vanished the year before. As Dan delves deeper into who Trin was and what secrets he and the school were hiding, he beings to uncover more unsettling things about his own life. It’s a show that really deftly weaves together mystery and horror and history, complex relationships, and what it means to live with the ever expanding consequences of your choices.

End of the World With You/Bokura no Micro na Shuumatsu (Japan)

As an apocalyptic meteor heads toward Earth, a guy who has been stuck in a dead-end job with little joy in his life named Masumi accidentally reconnects with wealthy and successful Ritsu, who broke Masumi’s heart in college. The two of them set out to help two other strangers get back to family before it all ends, while realizing how much they meant to each other and maybe still do. This show uses the premise of “if you only had ten days left to live, what would you do with them?” so, so well. The characters are so vivid in their strengths and flaws and in the ways they come through for each other. The way Masumi and Ritsu’s relationship, from the moment they meet to the last moment of the show, is a particularly nuanced take on how important a second chance, even a brief one, can be.

Beyond the Green Mountain (China)

The official blurb for this movie is "One summer, in a little fishing village in China, a teenage boy's quiet life is interrupted by the return of a childhood friend. A story about youth, friendship, and blossoming love in the summer breeze." And honestly, that's perfect! It's a very short (15 minute) film that is gorgeous and captures a lot of the longing of youth. The majority of the film is shot after beautiful shot of where these boys live with them included in it. The way the visual language grounds the film in the place where it's set is just wonderful and once again, the longing. Such longing! 

Honorable mentions (some that I have also seen): 

Playboyy

4 Minutes

Kiseki Dear To Me 

My Personal Weatherman

Bed Friend 

Meet You at the Blossom

Pornographer

The Heart Killers

Caged Again

I hope you’ve been thoroughly convinced to give Gaga a try! It’s worth every penny. 

[chuluoyi]

i suddenly have another angst brainrot—

in another au, a long time ago, during warring states period, gojo satoru is born a sorcerer to a prestigious lineage with ambitious dreams, and at that time he has a girl that he loves to mess with daily, whom he also loves so dearly—you.

you are in love and soon are set to marry. nothing could go wrong, after all, he is the strongest— but oh it does.

suddenly he is cursed. from now onwards, gojo satoru cannot die. he is cursed with immortality.

and it comes with the cost that he has to watch his lover die over and over again. in each and every lifetime. he tries everything to save you, only to fail each and every time. until he figures it out.

you die every time because you love him.

and so in this lifetime, even though he loves you so much and wants nothing more than to spend his life with you, he also loves you enough to sacrifice himself—he has to stop you from loving him.

[puppppppppy]

u know when youre bored of everything and it feels like theres a hole that youre trying to close but it just keeps sucking everything up

[autism-alley]

ik it’s been forever in internet time but i’m gonna die mad abt the way the live action atla show got a good amount of backlash and criticism from the fanbase meanwhile the pjo show was THAT horrendous and the fanbase treats critics like they’re out to kill their mother. as someone in both fandoms am i crazy bc i keep fucking seeing people say yes 💀 like!! these shows, whose original series were both about a 12 year old boy born with godlike powers going on quests with his friends to save the world, released in the 2000s, and had a shitty movie adaptation, now reboots released within weeks of each other, both committed nearly identical crimes of character assassination, exposition dumping, dumbing down their source material, sanitizing “problematic” elements (that the characters originally had to overcome), and wasting actor potential (also at least live action atla had good action scenes CANNOT say the same for the pjo show)—and i’m seeing like mainstream(ish) social media coverage of new atla show critique by people with millions of followers all across different sites, but nothing even close to that for the pjo show?? if that coverage exists for the pjo show somebody fucken send it to me bc like!! the pjo series is Not an unpopular series, i get it’s a book series and not a tv series so i didn’t expect the popularity to be exactly the same, but Damn! i feel like i need an hours long video essay comparing the two audience reactions to these series’ first season releases bc they were WIDLY different

[zeb-z]

Foolish and Cellbit lore makes me crazy because their characters are very much influenced by the entities they each have chosen, and it comes in to play in key moments. It influences their desires and their actions significantly.

Foolish, who makes sacrifices to the Chaos entity constantly. Who is his usual silly, impulsive self, and then takes it a step further, thinking ‘what would Chaos enjoy?’ Not looking twice before jumping, living and thriving in chaos and unpredictability, even if it is at the cost of his health and well-being. Especially if it’s at the cost of others. He tries to play each side of the conflict, sometimes for whatever will benefit him directly, the rest of the time just by seemingly flipping a coin and going one way or the other for shits and giggles. He starts conflicts and he fans the flames because he wants to see the fallout. He leans into the chaos without a second thought.

Cellbit, who’s a little more subtle, but the effects are still there. He cannot find a single thread on the island without having to find the other end. He takes on the problems and mysteries of everyone else on top of his own. He keeps back to eavesdrop at any opportunity when he says he’s leaving a conversation. He digs his grave as a double agent in the federation, not only to sabotage, but because he cannot stand the idea of a mystery being out there that he can’t figure out. It costs his sanity, it costs his time, it gives him gray hair and puts him in constant danger, it piles on so much work and responsibility on him, it’s a large part of why he feels so alone on the island - and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because who else would know what to do in the face of such puzzles?

The knowledge entity pushes Cellbit to seek that knowledge, damn the cost. His biggest weakness is that he cannot let anything lie - he has to solve whatever is put in front of him, because he has to know, it doesn’t matter what or why in some cases. Just as Foolish is always pushed to leave things to chance, because the unpredictability is exciting, enticing - even when the answer to a problem is obvious and he could easily take action to get the best known outcome.

[edenfenixblogs]

URGENT FOR MY BRAIN:

Is anyone here good at mashing up songs???????????

I noticed a similarity between two songs and I’m not good enough at music to mash them up and see how they work together but I NEED TO KNOW

I’m not joking. Please.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WHAT IF . mer!suguru ……

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[lemonynuggets]

don't pelt me with rocks !! i listened to all of negative 25 . i think postmortem is my favourite song of theirs :3c

OH YAYAYAY DID YOU LIKE THEM

I have to say so what I lied is my fave… it hits close to home aughhh

[nocentis]

x

[sluttish-armchair]

”I will have no part of it because I am a responsible adult who pays taxes and has trash pickup on Tuesdays”

Why is this guy so relatable lol I love him

[buck-yyyy]

local guy is trying so hard to be normal about the new edition of a board game replacing the old one

[rentaniisan]

Tell me specifics in the tags if you wish!