#jesus christ i think i was possessed

[oh-snapperss]

"look at the moon.." + ethubs for the writing prompts 👀?

hi leo!! oops i universe au coded this. my bad!

"look at the moon" + ethubs (x)

note: this is part of the universe au that i share with @team-clockers! you can find the rest of the posted parts of the au here.

Words: 882

CW: none!

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“Bdubs, does the moon look big to you?” 

“Heh?” Bdubs squints suspiciously over at Etho, who’s paused his work to stare over at the horizon with squinted eyes. The sun is just barely down, already past Bdubs’ bedtime–not that he really minded, not this once. They’d spent most the day plotting out their horse course, and honestly, Bdubs had struggled to sleep ever since they’d returned from last life. Call him crazy, call him weak–every time his eyes closed, his side was pierced by arrows, or hot air rushed by his face as he fell towards the netherrack, or the scream of the wither shattered his focus before agony tore through him and–

Yeah, maybe Bdubs wasn’t so timely on his sleeping habits. But nobody needed to know that! Five minutes here or there, nobody would ever notice. And here, now, when he had only just barely gotten to speak to Etho since returning from the game? He wasn’t about to complain about being up later… too much. 

Even so, Etho’s starry eyes seem clouded, more so than normal, and his eyebrows are pinched together. Bdubs has to squint to even make that out, given the setting sun is just behind Etho’s head like some sort of strange, blinding halo. Hues of pink and orange streak out behind him, as the sunset starts to fade. 

“The moon, Bdubs. Look at the moon.” Etho repeats, and this time Bdubs does so with a frown and a roll of his eyes. Etho has always been attached to the stars, dragging Bdubs out at the most ungodly of hours to point out new constellations forming, or older ones fading. (“Look, see? New stars there. And there. And one gone over there… wonder which world it was.”) 

The moon is a normal size. 

…or….

He tilts his head, studying each of the craters on its surface with careful consideration, trying to discern what might be different. A chill runs between his shoulder blades and he spins on his heel to face Etho again, somewhat glad the sun is below the hills now, so it won’t hurt to look at Etho. A few red streaks remain, reminiscent of the sky in the game, after so much blood had been spilt that the very sky seemed to be filled with it–

The moon. Look at the moon. Think about the moon.

“What about it?” …the craters. He shouldn’t be able to see the craters in such careful detail. “Seems normal to me!” He forces a grin, straightens his back as if to shake off the shivers racing up and down his spine. 

“Seems big, doesn’t it?” Etho’s head is tilted too, eyes no longer squinted, but rather focused on the moon now behind Bdubs. This time of night, Bdubs never can tell which of the stars are reflected in Etho’s eyes, or which are there already. Maybe there’s no difference. 

This time, when Bdubs cranes his head around to glance at it, he knows Etho is right. “Pshh, you’re bein’ ridiculous!” Don’t look at the moon. Don’t think about the moon. “It’s just a moon!”

“I know, but-” 

“But it’s late, Etho. I gotta sleep!” Sleep is pronounced like shreep. Not because he needs to or thinks it should be, or really even wants to, but just–he doesn’t want to think about something else going wrong, not now, not when he’s only just gotten his Etho back and not when he can’t even get through a night without the nightmares or–

Etho’s gaze stays transfixed on the moon for a few moments more, but he drops it with a shake of his head to finally, finally catch Bdubs’ eyes. “I know, I know… king of sleep can’t be up late, right?” 

“That’s right!” Bdubs puffs his chest out. There’s no pride or feeling in it. “King of sleep, you know I gotta, baby!” 

Etho laughs, and it’s fuller than any breath of air Bdubs has taken the last few minutes. “Riiiight, of course, c’mon–” He holds his hand out, and Bdubs’ breath catches. “Wanna just sleep out here since it’s late? I think I’ve got a bed–” 

“Yes!” Bdubs shocks himself with his enthusiasm, quickly trying to dial it back. “I mean, yeah, it’s late, I got a bed on me too, could stay here-” 

Etho’s eyebrows aren’t so knitted together anymore, instead squinting at him with what Bdubs knows is one of those heartstopping smiles he hasn’t seen since the games. Even with the mask, he can tell. “Yeah… yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Yeah?” Bdubs breathes out, eyes wide. He places his bed (and if it isn’t facing the moon, who’s gonna say anything?) and Etho places his own right next, below the stars. There’s no roof, or anything, but for once, Bdubs couldn’t care less. 

“It better not rain,” he comments anyways, as if he wouldn’t get soaked a thousand times if it meant Etho would stay. 

“It won’t.” Etho responds easily, some kind of authority in his voice, and somehow… Bdubs believes him. 

Perks of being the first player, he figures. 

And when Etho tugs the old green blanket over them both, and pulls Bdubs as close as he’d been held in the games, Bdubs knows–

They’re gonna be okay. 

(And the moon isn’t big.) 

[zabala0z]

When I watched nmt2 a bit ago, I thought it was so cute that Miss Holloway and Frank Pricely had a friendship??? And it was so sweet to 😭😭 I think everyone should talk about these two a bit more, they’re so cool

[darth-does-stuff]

ok wait why is this recent ep actually fucking terrifying i did not expect it to be this scary

[leadmeastraylittlefairy]

rewatching imogen and laudna’s conversation from episode 49 is so bonkers now. imogen so clearly going through it

[ratatatastic]

hey man do you have to have a hand on his waist like that and then stare dead into the camera (x)

[nixotinix]

so me and my best friend (@brovotics-art) were watching some episodes of MHG3 when we got to the episode with Heath's dad (who is NOT. HADES. you cannot convince me otherwise) and we got to thinking about my headcanon for g3 that Holt's dad would be Beelzebub and it got us thinking. we thought huh does every god from every pantheon exist in the monster high universe and we decided yes.

so UUHHHH HEADCANON. jesus christ went to monster high. but like nobody cared about the shit he said since there were all these other gods so he went to the human world instead. and there's also a set of triplets that still go to monster high their names are the father the son and the holy spirit thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

you ever read a translation of sappho 31 you did when you were 16 and had a crush on a straight girl and go wow. i cannot show this to ANYONE. why does it sound so personal for the love of god

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[weidli]

oh so 1x22 really is exactly calculated to make me specifically go fucking feral huh

[snekdood]

So many tarot readers on yt are poisoned by cultrual christanity. All the divine feminine shit and snakes being a symbol for something Bad shit and then its so weird when they both embrace egyptian shit and then also pray to "God" and constantly talk about praising their One True God like ma'am. Who are you. What is this. Whats going on here.

[ierogenvy]

i’ve just read a book that could be turned into a limited series and it would only ruin it a little bit

[whxtthxfxckxvxr]

Hate going out Saturday afternoon, all the crazies are out in the streets and I'll get cussed out for no fucking reason at least once or harassed for just about anything

[blueeyeswhitegirlcock]

woah holy shit google says i was actually raised fundie. i was just saying that because the vibes aligned i didn't realize it was like. true

[bonbongiveshell]

I do not disagree that this was the intention, but I think the execution not there for me so TBH it works as sort of a loose metaphor, but not an adequate representation of my Bestie

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[rodolfoparras]

The art of tardiness

Pairing: Unspecified Male Character x Male reader

cw: 18+, possessiveness, anal fingering, anal sex, top male reader, bottom male character, age gap, morning sex, writing on skin, feminization (hole referred to as cunt)

Synopsis: sometimes calling him yours just isn’t enough

There were times you were sure that your boyfriend was dating two different people.

One was the young man who’d swiftly tuck his tail between his legs at the smallest comment made about his relationship. That man could admit that he lacked experience compared to his much older partner, could admit he probably wasn’t his partner’s ideal type with his scrawny frame and short height, and he knew that even if his boyfriend were to look past those things, the people around them would never do it.

Then there was the rabid dog in the shape of a young man, that barks and bites at any potential threat, such as hostile comments made about his relationship. He’d look you straight in the eye and tell you not to make comments about a relationship you know nothing off, hell he’d get in a physical altercation if you provoked him enough.

And then of course there was the desire to bite the hand that feeds him, devour his person down to the bone so he wouldn’t have to share him with the world. He or rather you were pretty good at keeping this desire at bay but sometimes you just couldn’t contain it especially early in the mornings, when he looks like a sight to behold with his lazy smile bleary eyes, thin white sheet doing nothing to cover up his naked body.

You want to keep him in bed, mark him up, make him cum over and over again til all he can remember is the feeling of your cock

Unfortunately things aren’t that easy, especially when he has to get ready for work in half an hour, but stubborn as you are, you don’t let him go, dead set on marking him up as much as possible.

At first he’s too lost in bliss to notice what you’re doing, letting you suck and nip on the sensetive skin while desperately clinging onto your body, that is til you bite down hard enough to draw blood and the man jerks in place, wide eyed and suddenly too aware of what you’re doing.

“No marks” he says, even goes as far as to scruff your neck, as if you’re nothing but a disobedient dog to him “I have work, remember?”

“Please?” and you know that you must sound rather pathetic but honestly you couldn’t care less, especially not when you notice that a couple of marks have already started to bloom on his skin.

“So goddamn possessive what am I gonna do with you huh?” He says, while keeping a vice like grip on your neck “Should I let you write your damn name on my forehead? Would that make you happy hm?” He says gaze much softer as his thumb strokes your neck.

Even though he hadn’t intend to do so, his words gave you an idea and you immediately find yourself reaching for the night stand, hand blindly rummaging through the drawer.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He says, brow raised but it doesn’t take long before realization strikes him “Absolutely not,”

You turn to the other man , practically giving puppy eyes. This time you do feel a tad bit of embarrassment but not enough to give up on this battle.

“I can’t go out like that,”

“You won’t,” you immediately say “I’ll do it somewhere you can cover it,”

“Jesus Christ kid,” he sighs out and pinches his brows but despite his words you know that his resolve has crumbled.

You’re quick to grab the first best pen before straddling his waist, the late night escapade having left him in nothing but a thin white sheet covering the most sensitive part of him but you can still feel you cock head rubbing upon the cleft of his ass as you settle down.

“Cheeky bastard” he breathes out, fully aware of where your mind’s gone to.

You only hush him response, muttering how you have to be focused before you attempt to put the marker to his arm.

But before you can do that he grabs ahold of your egg wrist, a firm look painted on his face “promise me it’ll wash off,”

“Promise,” you say with a shit eating grin on your face.

And as you proceed to put the marker to his skin, you realize that you’re at loss of ideas on what you could write on him. It’s like you wanted to do so much when the idea first struck your head but sitting here you almost feel overwhelmed by all the options that you have.

You play it safe at first, writing out your name just below his pec, a move that has the man squirming beneath you.

“Tickles,”

“Sorry,” you say, not an ounce of sincerity in your tone as you draw another scribble on his forearm. It’s you and him- well it’s supposed to be but your artistic skills only allow you to draw two stick figures holding hands.

For a moment there are no words exchanged as you continue draw on his skin. You do a couple of doodles here and there, some ridiculous other more scandalous. You even write some words on his skin- some being your name others being lewd quotes, everything done within range where he’d be able to hide it beneath his clothes.

“This enough for you kid?” He says, when the majority of his chest is covered in little scribbles.

He probably didn’t mean anything by those words. But the ugly monster residing inside couldn’t help but take this as a challenge especially when he says that as he lays naked in your shared bed, soft smile on his face, the scribbles of your name clearly showing under the rays of sunlight protruding through the bedroom window.

Instead of responding to him you grab ahold of his wrist, black marker writing out the letter M on his skin, bold and big, just within the range of where he can pull on a shirt if he wishes to hide the word. The letters I N E are soon added in place, big bold and curling around his underarm.

The word mine now lays written on his forearm.

But you don’t stop there, eyes flicking over to his furry stomach that looks awfully bare before you take a marker to it and start writing your initials all over it. This time around the skin isn’t as forgiving, straight lines turning jagged from coarse hair and faded scar. Not that you mind and neither does the little monster residing inside.

You continue writing on him, covering as much skin as he allows but truth be told you don’t know how his clothes will be able to cover up some scribbles, not that you plan on telling him that right now.

And he doesn’t seem to care that much as his gaze carefully follows your movements, breathing growing heavier and heavier with each second that passes.

At some point you feel the need to get closer to him even though you’re practically sitting ontop of him, swiftly shuffling around til you’re slotted between his thighs, carefully drawing a line from the crevice of his knee down to the groove of his left thigh.

He continues to watch you with attentive eyes, as you add a triangle to the end of line, the marker reaching dangerously to where his balls lay hanging between his thighs and from where you sit you can smell his musk hitting your nostrils, can feel his thighs clench beneath your fingertips , can now see the way the black arrow is humorously pointing straight to the furley ring of muscles.

It’s impossible not to reach out to the spot between his legs, a curious finger swiping over his sensitive skin and pulling a gasp out of him“Hah!”

Your eyes flicker up, cock twitching at the sight of the man who already looks so wrecked before looking back to the marker in your hand, moving it back and forth til the line on his thigh grows in size, doing anything just to busy your mind because you’re supposed to draw on him not fuck him, remember that?

But it’s not long before your attention is back onto his burning heat, a glob of spit landing onto the sensitive skin before your finger circles his now wet rim.

“What are you-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you slip the tip of your finger inside, watching the way he jerks in surprise, the sudden movement jacking up the straight marker line, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Jesus Christ kid,” he breathes, voice dripping with both arousal and amusement as you continue to sink your finger inside of him.

“This alright?” You ask, and push til you’re knuckles deep before giving an experimental curl of your finger.

Another gasp escapes his mouth, hips bucking up into your touch “ hah -now you ask?” He says, but despite his words the man nods at your question.

That’s all it takes for you to work a second finger inside, this time coaxing a hiss out of him,“easy there kid going to break me,”

You can’t help but chuckle at that”Think you’re giving me too much credit pretty,” you say but decide to move your fingers at a much slower pace, watching the way his body once again relax onto the sheets as contented hums escape his lips.

You continue curling your fingers inside while drawing onto the man; circling birth marks and scars you find pretty, drawing arrows across every inch of skin while watching the way he twists and turns in the sheets with every brush of your fingertips “so fucking pretty like this drives me crazy “

At some point you stop drawing on his skin, turning all your focus to the fingers buried inside him.

You don’t even notice the way tears have started to gather at his eyes, nor the begs and please continuously escaping his mouth, too entranced with the sight of his hungry hole practically swallowing up your hand.

It’s only when he grabs ahold of your wrist that you snap back into the present moment, now noticing how you’ve left the pen to bled out on the white sheets, and how the ink on his skin has already started to smear.

The gruesome monster inside tells you that you need to find another way to mark the man.

Within moments you’re grabbing ahold of his legs, pushing his knees up to his chest til his cunt is on full display, not wasting another second to line your cockhead up with his entrance before pushing inside him.

“Ah fuck! Insatiable dog,” he barks out, not having expected you to do that but that doesn’t stop him from practically clamping onto you as you bottom out: heels digging into your ass and nails digging into your back as you start driving up into his hungry cunt.”mpf fuck just like that keep going kid“

Who’s insatiable now? You think to yourself, a strangled chuckle escaping your lips as you continue to thrust into his tight wet heat.

It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a steady pace, thrusting so erratically he’s practically choking up on the moans that are trying to escape his lips, bed frame frantically rocking against the wall every thrust of your hips.

“Ah! Fuck! Going to - hah going to kill me,” he says through choked sobs, hands madly clawing at your back as if he’s losing his footing on this world.

And as you look down at the beautiful mess he makes, you can’t help but notice the shadow of a bulge showing on his stomach, right below the spot where your initials lay.

Once again you feel the zealous monster within you take the steering wheel, hand pushing his legs past his ears, before drilling into him.

“Say it “ you grunt out, hands keeping a vice like grip on his thighs, pushing his legs so far back you’re sure you’ll split him in half if you keep it up “Come on come on say you’re mine”

At first he’s at a loss for words, barely even able to catch his breath with the way you’re erratically thrusting into him but eventually he manages to respond to you.

“Yours yours all yours fucking fuck I’m cum-“ he splutters out, hole erratically clenching down onto your cock before he cums in hot thick white streaks, across both his and yours abondmen “‘m sorry ‘m sorry” he slurs out, while he continues to shamelessly fuck himself back onto your cock.

Something about that sight is enough to triggering your own orgasm

“Fuck!” You cry out, eyes squeezing shut before youre hit with hot blinding pleasure.

The world around you blurs out, ears ringing loud as you continue to ride out your high before you eventually slump down beside the man.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, ears still ringing loud, world barely coming into focus. “That was-“ you begin but trail off once you can’t seem to find the right word for it.

A laugh rumbles through the older man’s chest, his big hand cradling the back of your neck before he says “got that right kid,”

You look up at him only to be left speechless at the sight.

See people always said that a relationship with someone so much younger than him would ruin him. You’d hear it over and over again while eavesdropping on whatever conversation he was having about this “sudden” relationship.

You never really understood what they meant until you saw him sprawled out on your bed, gaping hole stuffed full with your cum, and every inch of his skin covered in your initials.

At least they knew he was yours to ruin.

Yours

Yours.

Yours.

That little insatiable monster that can't seem to find rest rises to life again, coaxes you to slot your lips against the older man’s, tongue slipping into his mouth and licking along every nook and crevice, leaving the taste of you behind for anyone that would dare kiss him.

It takes one more kiss before he prys himself away from you, and walks over to the bathroom on shaky steps, the sight of his inked ass is the last thing you see before the door closes behind him.

You slump back into bed with a smile on your face, the taste of him still lingers on your lips, the previous string of events practically burned into your iris and for a second it all feels like a dream that is before you hear your name being shouted behind the bathroom door followed by a string of angry words “why won’t this shit wash off,”

Oh well…