#just tagging to avoid spreading hate in the tags

[arcadianmoonshadowjedi]

Hello again, Dreamy ! How much star wars animated series that have you watched and which one is your favorite ? I'm curious about it 😁

Oooooh! I watched them all except for Resistance but this is me being reluctant mainly due to my overall dislike for the Sequel trilogy (apologies to all ST fans out there). I think I still need to catch up on Forces of Destinies and Visions. My favorite is The Clone Wars, which is also my favorite Star Wars series overall (more than the live actions). The Bad Batch and Mando are close behind! 😊🙌🏽 I love that it expanded so much on the prequel trilogy plot and main characters, along with taking characters with small roles and cameos and adding so much depth to them. Heck it also introduced new characters which have become some of my favorite SW characters ever (Ahsoka and Rex)! Thanks again and feel free to ask or even dm if you wanna talk more! 😊

[thirdeyeblue]

“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”

I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.

Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨

When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.

While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.

In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):

He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.

Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.

He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.

And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.

Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.

(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)

Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…

His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.

It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:

He is still in love with Rose.

(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)

Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.

But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.

Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.

I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.

So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.

But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”

-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!

Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!

Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.

The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.

But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[florshedworf]

that’s fucking IT im EXPLODING: catadora.

what is it? what’s up with it? why do some people like it? why do people hate it with a firey passion?

it’s toxic yuri. it’s a interalized homophobic friendship. they’re lovers. they hate eachother. catra fucking hates adora. or does she? adora hates catra. unless? dear fucking god

[rqnarok]

summary: make up sex with old man!logan.

cws/tags: smut, mdni! oldman!logan. insecure!logan. petnames. logan calls reader ‘kid’. jealous!logan. daddy kink. oral (f receiving). not proofread. 

Logan can’t be ‘mad’ at you for more than a day. He just fucking can’t, alright?

He tried to keep his hands to his own as a protest of yesterday's quarrel. Logan still doesn’t know if it’s meant to be a punishment for you or himself. 

The older man does know that when he’s jealous, he’s doing it in a self-destructive way.

How he isolates himself and avoids you instead - because he knows that he doesn’t deserve you. A fucking hundred-year-old something who’s angry all the time, who’s aloof to the world, and who’s pining over someone as pretty and young as you. 

It fucking wound him too when he pretends nothing ever hurt him, that the way you laugh too loud at the guy’s jokes at the pub did not have any effect on him. That he had to pretend as if he’s not an insecure old man who just wants you all to himself by making things worse. 

“C’mon.” It’s all that Logan could force out as he skims through whatever he’s pretending to read, ignoring the way his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth in ferocity, “What’re you on, huh? Y’ve got no reason to throw a tantrum like this, kid.” 

He sees the moments when your gaze changes, hurt bleeding into the orb, “You’re mean, Logan.” It wounds him - but this kind of confrontation is all he’s ever known. 

Hell, he doesn’t even know why you decided to stay with him. He thought you’d leave in the middle of the night of the first month after figuring out how much of a failure of a man he is. 

So when he goes back from his tiring work and still sees your figure cooking dinner for him in the kitchen, he fucking loses it. His breath gets stuck in his lungs as he watches you stroll around with one of his henley shirts, humming softly the tunes of your favourite song. 

Maybe he’d use a different type of confrontation now—maybe he’d talk about his feelings more often. He’d do everything not to lose this sole sight: His pretty girl being so domestic that he can’t help but get so shamelessly hard.

The way he tried to gain composure and not to lose his coolness but fails miserably at the sight of his your shirt riding up to give him a good view of your perky ass as you reach something from the top cabinet. 

Logan takes you by surprise when he wraps his arms around you, nipping and kissing the soft skin below your ear—his way to say sorry - it’s all my fault.

“Will ya’ forgive your old man, sweet girl?”

He hates how he sounded so unconfident - so different from his younger self.

But when you lean your back onto his chest and shyly nod, his worries are buried. Logan hauls you up with a smile, the bone-cracking sound reminds him of his old age. He rumbles in laughter when you squeal in surprise before spreading your thighs apart on the kitchen counter, pulling your legs around his head so he can eat his dinner. 

His big nose drapes around your clothed pussy before groaning at the smell of you. Cursing himself from avoiding you yesterday when he could have had this. “Y’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby. ‘S mine, huh? My pussy.” He says as he takes off your panties.

The statement itself and the scratchy feel of his ragged beard made you arch your back from the rough surface, “A-ah, ‘s yours, Daddy.”

“Tha’s right.” Logan licks a stripe of your dampening pussy, deeply humming in delight when you let out a high-pitched whine and subconsciously locking your legs tighter to pull him closer. You trail your hands down and tug at his greying hair while he laps you up and fucks you with his tongue. Making you come undone in just a span of a short time.

Logan wipes his mouth and beard as he stands before you in quick breaths, looking at you all apologetically: I’msorry I’msorry I’msorry-

You’re teary-eyed, blinking up at him - whining for him to fuck you hard now - to make up his stupid faults. 

Stupid old man who thinks he’s not worthy of you.

 Logan groans as he tosses away his belt, holding the base of his cock as he teasingly drags the head on your wet folds, “Ssh. Let Daddy make it up t’ya, alright? Daddy’s gon’ give it to you now, baby.” 

[gutsby]

Bloodline

Pairing: Dark!Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: The General needs an heir.

Warnings: 18+. NONCON. FORCED IMPREGNATION. Unprotected p-in-v. Arranged marriage. Throatfucking. Face-slapping. Breeding kink. Praise and degradation. Age gap. Dacryphilia. Fear play. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: Silphium and pennyroyal (or ‘glechium’) were herbs commonly used for contraceptive purposes in ancient Rome.

Word count: 4.4k

You woke up knowing you were fucked.

In more ways than one: today brought your husband home from his latest campaign in Germania, and last week, your only batch of contraceptives was running low. Now, it was gone. You cursed the apothecary who had sworn she would procure your silphium drink before you were to see the General again, but presently, there was nothing more to be done. You had tracked your cycle and knew you were ovulating that week. You just hoped your husband would be too battle-weary and overwrought to seek a place in his bed, between your own legs, tonight.

‘Down’ came the order before the door to your chambers had even closed behind Marcus Acacius later that day.

Down meant he wanted you lying back.

Down meant your thighs had better be spread apart by the time he reached the bed. He wasn’t a patient man.

Down meant your meticulous menstrual contrivances had all been for nothing; you had been married to the General for almost a year, and in that time, you had promised yourself you would never bear him a child. While the only reason for your being forced to wed in the first place was to give him a son, you despised the idea of being the Emperor’s pawn. A vessel for the next awful bloodlusting boy to be born—you had been a present from your uncle Geta to Acacius, and ever since then, you had come to hate them both. You drank your herbal teas daily, without them ever knowing, and you feigned ignorance when, after months and months of the General’s best efforts, you never fell pregnant by him.

Today might very well be the day to change all that, if you had to judge by the look in your husband’s eyes, though.

The harsh, dark irises were alight as he approached you. Their gaze betrayed little more intrigue—or curiosity to know how you had been these last three weeks he was gone—than sheer lust. You could see it in his movements while he peeled his armor apart and drank your body in.

He shrugged the last scrap of metal and fabric away and climbed over you in bed. His motions were graceless, and his body was heavy. He smelled of dirt and blood.

“Wider,” he told you.

Wider your legs spread. He slipped between them, and with an affectionless, rough grip, he grabbed your wrist.

“Touch,” he commanded.

You obeyed that, too. Your fingers were guided to, and wrapped gingerly around, the thick, warm base you had come to know well since marrying Acacius. He pulsed proudly beneath your hand, and the grunt he gave said he was expecting this the whole long while he had been away. You stroked him slowly. Firmly. Contemplating.

“My love—” you started, low.

“Quiet.” Your husband’s voice swiftly supplanted yours.

It bid you to do as you were told, and open your mouth for nothing else but to pleasure the appendage you held.

You knew better than to speak in moments like these. But you also feared, for very good reason, that if you didn’t interject now, you may never get a chance to prevent this dreaded thing. It would only get harder.

He would only get harder.

“Husband,” you tried more warmly, stroking his cock as though you loved him, like weren’t repulsed by the thought of birthing his son. You forced your gaze up, too.

And no sooner had you done that when a hand landed across your face. Your cheek flamed; your skin bristled.

“My sweet wife insists on being heard, does she?” the General broke in, and you could tell it was through teeth, “Does it look like I’ve even begun to fuck you yet, girl?”

You shook your head that it didn’t. Your face stung, and you were about to look away when you felt the same hand that had delivered the last blow take your chin.

The General tilted it back up to his.

You felt him harden even more seeing tears start to well.

“Whatever it is, tell me after. I’ve waited too long for this.”

From his tone, you could tell that meant more than sex.

An heir.

He must have known you were withholding something.

Your hand moved quicker. More nervously. Worrying.

“Allow me to…to use my mouth, then. I-In other ways.” You hated even saying it. Your voice trembled as you did.

Silently, you braced yourself for another hit. Your wrist worked relentlessly, moving up and down the man’s shaft with little more intelligible thought in your head than the fear of being punished by him, when it stopped.

The General halted all movements of your hand. He eyed you once, uncaring, and then shook his head. The next thing you knew, you were being shoved off of the bed.

You never thought you would feel such relief sinking to your knees on the floor. You were good at this—could finish your husband off in under two minutes, easy—and for once, you were happy to feel the man’s fist in your hair. Holding you firm, guiding you fast, and being his normal gruff, callous self to force you onto his cock.

He filled your mouth quickly. Though it might not have meant much to a girl who had never seen, much less sucked, a dick in her life before becoming a wife, Marcus was big. He fit uncomfortably between your lips and stretched your jaw until it ached. At length, you let him move your face up and down, again and again, wetting his shaft with your slick, shiny, delicate strings of saliva. You almost felt grateful to be made to move so fast, so your tongue couldn’t get fully acquainted with his taste. You gagged lightly when he shoved you down to the base. Your eyes rolled back; his belly grazed your nose.

“You look better when I’m in you,” Marcus said coldly.

He dragged your head back, and you inhaled a breath. Your eyes rose to his, and he smiled—he saw tears again.

You blinked and let your expression fall limply, knowing how much he loved seeing you weak. You took the tip between the seam of your lips, and you kissed it once. Then you kissed it again. Your mind grew dizzy with the idea that you might actually get to swallow his load and be left alone the rest of the night if you only kept going.

You opened wider to do just that when next you heard:

“You’ll look better with my child inside you.”

As if galvanized by some sharp, unseen electric current, you wrapped your lips around his head. Fully. You tried enveloping the rest with your mouth, desperate to get your husband’s mind off of putting himself anywhere but at the back of your throat, and you hummed. The man above you gladly pushed himself further. You choked.

And just when you were about to force a breath through your nose, flatten your tongue and prepare to go deeper on the man you disliked most in this world, you felt him coax your gaze up to him. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point. You had to blink once or twice to even see him. When you had, you found him beaming.

For once, the General’s gaze was soft as he watched you.

You felt him tug your hair forward, and your lips went with it. Your throat resisted at first, but then it relented. In just a few moments, he was sliding down your throat.

You felt powerless. Your husband seemed to know.

“We’ve been unlucky, haven’t we?” he asked.

Surely, the question was meant to be rhetorical, for you couldn’t move your mouth without gagging on his cock.

Instead, you blinked. More tears flowed down your face.

“Nearly a year of being my wife, and still no child.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve taken him for contrite.

He sounded like he could’ve been forlorn, but the tone he used was too smooth. Slow. His voice was like molasses, almost. And then he moved his hips and sank in deeper. Your throat opened because it had no say in the matter.

You blinked harder, and more tears fell.

Please cum, please cum, please cum—

“I have it on good authority that a girl your age should be as fertile as anything. It shouldn’t take this long to take.”

—just finish, just finish, just finish where you are.

Marcus shifted again, and this time, you couldn’t control the spasm in your throat. You just coughed, and sputtered, and gagged down his length. You jerked your head pathetically under his hold, and just barely were you able to steal a gasp of air. The man loosened up.

And though his touch was less tight, his voice almost soft, and his eyes as bright as they had ever been, the words that followed after struck your senses like a fire.

Practically searing the insides of your skull when it came:

“You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you?”

You would’ve liked to swallow, but your esophagus was too chock-full of cock. Your lips were stretched, tongue flattened along his length, and your cheeks were now glistening with tears—from the strain of your husband’s intrusion, for one, and the fear of what he might already know, for another. You felt the head of his cock slide deeper down your wet and velvety channel before carving a path back up. Its ascent was slow. Teasing.

The fingers that were threaded through your hair held your head in place as he withdrew all the way to the tip.

“Answer me, wife.”

When you hesitated, the General slapped you again. His cock fell out of your mouth, and you coughed reflexively.

“I-I-I don’t…I don’t know what—”

“Think harder.”

A hit was shortly delivered to the other side of your face. You flinched, and winced, and right before you tried answering again, you felt your jaw forced open for something else. Rather than being made to let words fill the space, your husband’s cock was thrust in. It went far.

Your mouth was leaking with drool now. You couldn’t contain the spit. If anything, the General seemed to enjoy that as he slid himself further. Then he grunted.

“Why is it I’ve filled you with enough cum to paint the fucking Coliseum, and you still haven’t give me a son?”

You gagged. Your hands flew to his strong, bare thighs to grab the flesh out of habit, and once again, he withdrew.

“Why?!”

“I don’t know!”

Of course you did.

Still, you shook your head and kept your gaze plastered on his, begging for some shred of lenience. If he’d had any within him, you reckoned you weren’t seeing it that day. Before you could stop him, the General forced his way back into your mouth, and shortly down your throat.

“I think you’re a lying—” He jerked his hips once, to stab the very back of that place, “—pathetic fucking whore.”

You tried to whine in protest, but the sound was shortly muffled by his cockhead gliding back and forth in that wet, fleshy passage. Its path was suffocating. Your eyes almost rolled back from how fucking awful he tasted.

Please, please, your nails scratched at his legs like some kind of wordless entreaty. Your gaze was glossy and wet.

You could scarcely muster the strength to meet his own, but when you did, you found your husband smiling back.

He slid out of your mouth, and you could breathe again.

“We’ll try once more,” he said, pulling you up to your feet by your armpits, like he might treat a toy he didn’t like. When you were standing upright between his legs, you felt a shudder pass through your frame, and you tried to hide it. He leaned in: “Why haven’t you given me a son?”

“My body must not be r-ready.”

Wrong answer, apparently.

He slapped you again.

By now, your face was blooming with pain. Your skin stung, and your eyes burned, and you could still feel a trace of his precum trickling down your throat, and you hated him so much. But you had to be stoic. Insensitive.

Inventive.

“Silphium,” you stuttered out, before swallowing the awful tang you sensed and recollecting yourself, barely, “Pennyroyal, too. I hear there are…concoctions that help to make the womb more…more…hospitable, I believe.”

You were lying through your fucking teeth. Knowing your husband was far too dense and war-crazed to have ever consulted an apothecary in his life, and hoping he’d be stupid enough to accept whatever it was you said. When it came to things concerning your health, he rarely cared.

You swallowed hard and for once, felt a little more stable.

Then you were shoved onto the bed again, and any semblance of composure was sucked from your bones. You fell pathetically against the plush, satin covers of maroon and gold and were prone for no more than two seconds before the General started tearing your clothes.

“We’ll see,” he said simply.

He flipped you onto your back, and you writhed without really meaning to. You were operating on pure instinct, feeling a man nearly three times your age moving his hands across your front and ripping fabric left and right. It wasn’t fair. You could hold your tongue if he hit you hard enough, but your muscles fared worse when it came to constraining their natural inclinations. You kicked your feet, you squealed, then you begged him—

“Please, stop! I’m not ready yet! I can’t— I can’t— STOP!”

This was just like your wedding night. Only worse, because you knew exactly what lay in store with harrowing clarity and certainty. The General grinned.

“Pennyroyal, huh?” he sneered, yanking your clothes away while you thrashed and tried to push his hands off, “Is that what my wife needs to be ‘ready’ to bear sons?”

“Yes!”

“Silphium?”

“Please, please.”

There were fresh tears brimming in your eyes when he peeled the last scrap of covering off of your body and shoved you back down. You were shaking, and he was smiling, and as much as you knew the man hated being defied, you reckoned he took pleasure from the chase. Seeing the moisture well up and spill, feeling you crawl back in bed, meet his greedy, calloused hands and beg him over and over again not to make you do it, not now.

You could hardly even see him through your tears, but you felt him. Sensed his lower half forcing its way between your legs and then his member coming to rest on your belly. You squirmed at the feeling of your spit still coating him, and now brushing against you. You sobbed.

“You can’t keep forcing yourself inside me—”

“I can.”

“Won’t make a baby stick if you just—”

“I will.”

You felt betrayed. All your life you’d been force-fed these sunny, sanguine ideals of what motherhood was going to be, and this was all it was? After cherishing that prized thing between your thighs—like virginity were some real gift to be given—for so long, this is who owned it now? The General hadn’t had so much as a fraction of the compassion or patience a wife needed to feel secure. He didn’t treasure you, or care for your pleasure, or do anything to soothe the ache of his repeated intrusions. You couldn’t begin to think what he’d be like as a father.

Presently, he smoothed your hair from your face; not to comfort you any, but to make sure that he could see your expression when he sank himself in. When he took again.

“We’ll have to seek the Emperor’s best,” he murmured.

Your husband gripped one of your knees, and at the same time, held himself. You felt his thick, leaking head trail from your navel to your pubic bone, down exactly where you wanted him least. You tried to protest, but his grasp on your leg only tightened. He pressed you down into the mattress and wiped his cock between your folds.

“This pennyroyal you mention…” Marcus went on.

For some reason, your legs tensed as he said it.

“Or silphium. Whatever it is. Can we get it?”

His tip teased your soft, swollen clit—a place he rarely cared to touch—and, against your will, your body started.

Some minuscule ripple of pleasure there. You swallowed.

“Yes. We can. Please, just—” You glanced down between your body and the General’s then, and the sight nearly sent your head spinning. He looked so big. And cruel. And dripping with precum across your puffy, wet skin.

He knew this act well. You knew this act well enough, but for some reason, you thought your actions aimed at forestalling the inevitable might succeed this time.

You reached for his wrist, and your eyes pleaded with his.

“Don’t do this again,” you whimpered, feeling pathetic.

The General only shook his head, and he held on tighter.

“As your husband, I’ll do this as often as I please. And you’ll learn to like it, if you just stop fighting,” he said.

He found your dripping entrance, like he always did.

“Just let me in. Let me feel her, honey, I deserve it.”

You shook your head, but he pushed on anyway. Your stomach clenched, your walls tensed, and, in spite of your body’s strongest attempts, your husband notched the first inch of himself inside. He let out a happy sigh.

“That’s it. That’s a good wife,” he told you contentedly.

His girth was too much. It was always too much. No matter how slow he went, or how much you tried to prepare yourself, it always hurt. You whimpered at that feeling and had to bite your bottom lip to keep the sound from slipping out. Marcus nodded and kissed your cheek

“Sweet girl. ‘S’all she needed, see? One little inch, or—”

His words were cut short. Then he thrust in all the way.

“—eight, maybe.”

You shrieked and met his palm. It clamped over your lips.

That first stroke was torture. Dragging back was even worse. Re-sheathing himself and making you listen to his wretched grunts and groans of pleasure was pure agony.

“Will the herbs help? Pussy feels plenty ready to me.”

He was mocking you now. Your whines were stifled under his hand and your walls were forced wider for his girth as he sawed back and forth, over and over, without mercy.

“Nod if you want it,” he panted, “Nod if you need that.”

You weren’t sure if he meant the herbs or him. Slowly, and knowing he’d hit you if you didn’t, you nodded.

The General grinned. He didn’t hesitate to speak again.

“Good. Now you can stop soliciting apothecaries behind my back and using these same herbs as contraceptives.”

Your stomach dropped. Your eyes widened, though you knew it was a stupid thing to do when the man’s gaze was practically scorching through your own. You froze.

Your husband wedged his cock even deeper, and you felt him in your cervix—unprotected from any medicine now.

Medicine that he knew about, too, apparently.

You had no choice but to whimper when he kept digging his strong hips into yours, repeatedly, battering that soft, sensitive, defenseless place with his dick like he owned it. You wanted to kick your legs but sensed it was useless. General Acacius would get what he wanted.

What he needed was a son. You could see it in his eyes.

“My stupid, silly wife,” the General chided you, now fucking in deeper than he’d done before. Taunting, “I hope our son gets my brain, or the poor boy’s fucked.”

You wanted to cry. You were still sobbing, but the tears had come with such force before that there didn’t seem to be enough moisture in your body to allow them now. Any wetness, it seemed, was inside your legs, allowing your husband to pound into you with complete abandon.

Skin slapped skin. The man’s breaths grew quicker, more frantic, while your own you wished would halt altogether. His hand moved from your mouth to take your chin in his palm; he looked proud as he drilled your soft, limp body.

“Finish. Please,” you whimpered, all fight extinguished.

You didn’t know what else to say. Your husband had caught you, somehow, and probably knew as well as you that your body would now be forced to accept whatever he gave it. When that warm, throbbing member between your legs had had its fill and the man had decided he’d humiliated you enough, he’d paint your insides white. He’d shoot thick, hot ropes of cum where you’d dreaded him most, and in all likelihood, that seed would take. If not today, then tonight, tomorrow or the next day—there was no clear end in sight until the General had secured the heir he so desperately wanted. What Geta promised.

And you would be a mother, whether you liked it or not.

Every subsequent thrust, grunt, and groan rang hollow to you then. It was like your mind was lost from your body, your brain an open wound, and what was left of you simply splayed on that bed. Unmoving. Unfeeling. Being fucked and filled up without a modicum of concern for your humanity. Or what remained, anyway.

When he was finished and he could feel your body stuffed with his greedy, sticky release, the General leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead.

He seemed more confident than ever as he spoke.

“I can feel my legacy has already been cemented.”

As it turned out, a month was enough.

Within the year, you gave birth to a son.

This was no great shock to you—getting forcefucked every night for five weeks straight would’ve done the trick for any woman in your position, you supposed.

What surprised you most was how gentle the General became after learning you were pregnant with his child. Ever the paragon of paternal affection and husbandly devotion to you from that moment forward, you were convinced the man had been transformed overnight. He never spoke so much as an unkind word to you, or gave a glance that said anything less than that he was in love and elated to help you bring new life into this world. He never forced himself on you in bed. You could sleep again

One morning, you were cradling your baby in your arms. In just a few short weeks, you had already memorized every inch of his soft, sweet face. And you knew from the first you’d never love a single creature more on this earth

When your husband approached, you smiled—beaming.

“How is my son?” came the deep warble of his voice.

You drew the blanket back an inch with just your finger; beneath the soft cloth, the two of you could see that the infant was sleeping peacefully. He made a delicate sound, and you were half-certain you could hear the General’s heart splintering in two along with it. He dropped to his knees beside you, where he leaned in near and let his eyes say all the rest. They were cheery. Wet.

Sometimes, you, too, enjoyed seeing him cry.

You pet his wavy grey locks and gave them a tug.

“Is he exactly as you pictured? Your legacy?” You smiled.

Marcus blinked, letting two warm tears trickle down.

“Better than I could have dreamed him myself.”

That made your heart swell with a still larger ache. This was all your husband had ever wanted—wrapped up in your arms and swaddled with wool. Your son looked like him, too. You could see the General’s appreciation of this every time his eyes fell to the child, and every time his gaze drifted to you. There was admiration. Adoration.

Love, for once.

“Will he be a soldier like his father?” you asked next.

“A much braver one than I ever was.”

“Will he do Emperor Geta proud by this calling?”

Once more, your husband’s eyes flitted from the baby up to you. His look was soft as he reached out for your hand.

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind of that, my love.”

You squeezed his palm. You couldn’t help yourself.

“And will he carry the Acacius family name with pride?”

At that, the General’s hesitation was even shorter than the last. He swiftly confirmed that his son would, indeed, wear his name like a badge of honor. There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty on that front, he assured you.

His smile was so wide you couldn’t help but mirror it.

Even as you slid the knife from in between the folds of your son’s blanket, you were smiling at him all the while.

“And what if he doesn’t?” you asked quietly.

The General’s gaze fell to the blade next.

You thought he might die on the spot.

“What if he bears no name at all?”

The serrated edge now hovered over the baby’s throat. When Marcus jerked toward the thing, instinctively, you only lowered it more. Brought the silver closer to skin.

“Please— You— you can’t— can’t— can’t— please stop.”

He was fumbling for words. You didn’t blame him.

“Your precious legacy is a fragile thing, General.”

And with that, you drew the knife closer.

Your husband let out a strangled noise.

Right when he rose to knock the weapon out of your hand, you took it and flipped it back around to him.

Your first stab was swift. Into his chest.

“My child will never know your name.”

It was clear the injury stunned him.

When you plunged the knife in again, the man let out another sound—this time, a grunt of pain—and you wedged it deeper. You didn’t flinch when his face twisted

“My son will take my name.”

Frankly, with the trauma your blade had already inflicted on his chest, you didn’t expect the General to be able to say a word. Or resist. By the look of horror in his eyes, you could tell he was capable of listening, though.

Now, he would be forced to hear it all.

See his own life taken away from him.

And feel the blade thrust in when you punctured his front for the third and final time. Your eyes were shining now.

Still cradling your child, still holding his gaze, still smiling like this was the single greatest day you’d lived to see.

“Acacius, your bloodline dies with me.”

[sasheemo]

Knock Knot

Pairing: Alpha!Agatha x Omega!Reader

Summary: In the height of your heat, you find yourself at the mercy of the one Alpha you could never resist.

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Smut, Knotting, Breeding Kink, Porn Without Plot, First Omegaverse Attempt

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: Well ngl, this is a twist I didn’t see coming. Up until two weeks ago, I never would’ve imagined myself writing Omegaverse smut, but apparently, the universe (aka all the lovely humans that voted in the poll) had other plans. So, here I am, delivering what you asked for!

This is my first attempt at the genre, so I’d love to hear your thoughts! Be nice, though—or don’t, I can take it. If this goes over well, who knows? I might just write more. Enjoy! 💜

MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

You had underestimated your heat.

You should have known better. This isn’t your first time, but it’s unlike anything you’ve ever endured. The faint hum in your belly started four days ago, a subtle, manageable thrum—or so you thought. 

By the second day, the ache became unbearable. The suppressants you decided to rely on seem to be useless, failing to dull the relentless fire spreading through your core. Your scent has saturated your home, thick and cloying, clinging to every surface. No amount of pacing or distraction able to smother the inferno roaring inside you.

You’ve done everything to stay hidden—locked every door, shut every window tight, and isolated yourself in the living room, far from prying eyes. But the ache isn’t a dull pulse anymore. It’s a living, breathing thing, clawing at you with every passing moment. It’s not just release your body craves. It’s an Alpha.

And not just any Alpha.

The thought alone sends a fresh wave of heat rolling through you. Her scent haunts your senses, rich and spiced, lingering even in memory. Agatha Harkness isn’t just commanding, she’s overwhelming, the kind of Alpha who can ruin you with a single glance. You’ve crossed paths at coven meetings and social gatherings, but you’ve always avoided her sharp, knowing eyes. 

She has a way of looking at you that makes you feel stripped bare, vulnerable. And you hate her for it. You hate how small she makes you feel. But now, with your body betraying you, she’s all you can think about.

The knock comes softly at first, almost hesitant, but it slices through the quiet house like a thunderclap. You stop mid-step, your frantic pacing halted as the sound reverberates through the air. Your pulse pounds in your ears, drowning out the oppressive silence that had been your only companion for days.

Another knock follows, firmer this time. “Open the door.” a voice calls, equally smooth and firm, its authority impossible to ignore.

Agatha.

Your breath catches, panic blooming in your chest as her scent seeps through the door, heady and intoxicating even from outside. You press your back against the wall, trying to ground yourself, but it’s no use.

“I know you’re in there, Omega.” she calls again, her tone silk-wrapped steel. “Don’t make me break this door down.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, your hands trembling as instinct overpowers logic. Before you can stop yourself, you’re gripping the handle, the cool metal slick under your palm. The door creaks open, and there she is.

Agatha stands in the doorway, her icy blue eyes locking onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey. Her presence fills the space instantly, her scent flooding your senses with an unbearable intensity. Her lips curl into an alluring smile, dark and confident.

“Did you really think you could hide from me?” she asks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

You step back instinctively, your pulse hammering in your chest. 

“I… I didn’t—” The words stick in your throat, faltering under the weight of her gaze.

“You didn’t what?” she cuts in, kicking the door shut behind her with a resounding thud. “Didn’t think I’d notice?” Her eyes rake over you, lingering on your flushed cheeks and trembling thighs. “Your scent’s been calling to me for hours, Omega. I could smell you from down the street.”

Your knees wobble, heat pooling low in your belly as her words sink in. “You shouldn’t be here…” you say, though your voice holds no conviction.

Her smirk widens as she takes another step forward, deliberate and unhurried. 

“Oh, but I should.” she murmurs, her tone laced with amusement. “Look at you. You’re drowning in your own heat. Did you really think you could handle this on your own?”

“I just—I didn’t think you would—” you stammer shaking your head, retreating another step as her scent wraps around you like a vice.

“But I do.” she interjects, tilting her head slightly as she studies you. Her eyes gleam with something dark, something that makes your stomach twist in knots. “I’ve been waiting for this. And now, you’re mine to handle.”

You swallow hard, panic and desperation clawing at your chest. “I don’t… Agatha, I can’t—”

“You can’t what?” she cuts in once again, the sound of her steps making your heart stutter as she closes the distance between you. “Admit you need me? Tell me, little Omega, should I leave?”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. The truth feels uncomfortable, but so does the thought of her walking away.

“That’s what I thought.” she says, her smirk sharpening as she her presence presses against you, her scent overwhelming, and you stumble backward.

Your thighs hit the edge of the couch, and the sudden shift in balance forces you to sink onto the cushions, your hands instinctively clutching the armrest to steady yourself. The air between you thickens as Agatha steps closer, her legs brushing against yours.

Her gaze sweeps over you, dark and assessing, the weight of it alone making your breath hitch. Slowly, she leans in, saturating every corner of your awareness. Her hand rises to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing the curve of your jaw with an almost maddening slowness.

“You’re such a mess, Omega.” she murmurs, her voice low and rough, just above a whisper. Her fingers trace the line of your jaw, trailing down to the sensitive skin of your neck. “So soft. So warm. Just sitting here, waiting for me to make it better.”

Your breath stutters as her other hand settles firmly on your thigh, her grip possessive. Her thumb starts to draw slow, soothing circles, the sensation igniting a fresh wave of heat low in your belly. You whimper despite yourself, and her lips curl into a satisfied grin.

She leans closer, her nose brushing against your temple, then lower, tracing the line of your cheek as her fingers tighten their hold. 

“This is where you belong.” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. “Right here. Under me.”

Your thighs tremble beneath her touch, your body betraying you completely as her knee presses between your legs with unrelenting firmness, urging them wider, allowing her to take her rightful place between them. 

Her closeness makes your instincts take over, and your head tilts back, exposing the delicate, vulnerable curve of your throat to her predatory gaze.

She doesn’t waste the invitation. Her teeth graze your earlobe first, then drag lower, scraping against your pulse point as you shudder. Her grip tightens on your thigh, grounding you, holding you exactly where she wants you. When her lips finally press against the curve of your neck, the sensation sends a jolt through you, your gasp echoing softly in the still air.

“Fuck, you smell divine.” she murmurs against your skin, her voice tinged with reverence. Her tongue flicks out, tasting the salty sheen of sweat on your skin, and you whimper, the sound breaking into soft, frustrated whines that only seem to spur her on.

“Say it.” she commands, her voice firm, dripping with authority. “Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitches as both her hands come to rest on your hips, her grip firm and unrelenting, sending a clear message that resistance is not an option.

“I can’t do this alone, Agatha…” you gasp, your voice cracking as your head falls back against the couch.

Her eyes roam over your features, their intensity pinning you in place. 

“That’s not enough.” she scoffs, her fingers digging into your hips with a possessive pressure that makes your breath hitch. “If you want me, Omega, you’re going to have to beg like you mean it.”

Shame flares hot in your cheeks, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the smoldering heat coiling deep within you. Your body trembles as the words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered.

“Please, Agatha, fill me.” you gasp, your voice cracking as your hips shift against her grip, desperate for relief. “I need you to fuck me until I can’t think, until I can’t even stand.”

Her smirk falters, her pupils dilating as she leans in closer, her breath hot against your lips.

“Keep going.” she murmurs, her voice rough and dripping with hunger. “Let me hear how desperate you really are.”

Your body arches into her as the heat claws at your senses. 

“I want you to knot me so hard I feel it for days.” you sob, your hands clutching at her shirt as the words rush out of you, like a river surging past its banks, drowning everything in its path. “I want to feel every inch of you, every thrust. I want you to fill me so completely it drips out of me every time I move.”

Her growl comes immediately, vibrating deep in her chest as her lips skim along your jaw, hot and possessive. One hand slides lower, her touch purposeful, searing. 

“Fuck, Omega.” she hisses. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You don’t stop. You can’t stop. Her words fuel you, each one stoking the fire in your core, her need blending seamlessly with your own, leaving no room for restraint.

“Please, breed me.” you plead, your voice trembling as tears begin to blur your vision. “I want you to keep going until I’m so full of you I can’t take it anymore.”

Her grip on your hips tightens instantly at your words, her nails carving crescent marks into your skin as her chest rises and falls in ragged, heaving breaths. 

“You want me to breed you?” she snarls, her voice low and feral. “You want everyone to know that pretty cunt of yours belongs to me? That you belong to me?”

“Yes!” you cry, your gaze locking onto hers with unflinching intensity. Desire blazes in your eyes, bold and shameless now, challenging her to claim everything you’re offering. “I’ll take everything, Agatha. All of you. I’ll be yours.”

The last shred of her control snaps.

“Prove it to me, Omega. Every. Last. Word.” she growls against your lips, her voice shaking with the weight of her need.

You don’t even have time to process her words before her lips crash against yours, fierce and unyielding. Her tongue claims yours immediately, delving deep as if she’s devouring every ounce of your desperation. The kiss is all hunger and possession, leaving no room for gentleness. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her teeth graze your lower lip before sinking in just enough to draw a sharp gasp from you. The sting sends a shiver racing down your spine, your breath hitching as her hands begin to roam your body with deliberate intent. One slips beneath your top, her fingers brushing against heated skin as she drags the fabric upward.

“Arms up.” she commands, her voice velvety, demanding obedience without question.

You obey instinctively, trembling as she pulls the fabric over your head and tosses it aside without a second thought. 

Her eyes take on an even deeper shade as they sweep over your exposed skin, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your breasts. Her lips part slightly, her tongue darting out to wet them as if savoring the sight, and the way her gaze tracks your every breath makes your chest heave even harder under her scrutiny.

“You’re just… perfect.” she murmurs, her voice a hushed reverence laced with hunger. 

One hand ghosts over your skin before pinching a sensitive nipple between her fingers, catching you off guard with the sharp jolt of sensation. The other trails downward with intent, her fingers brushing against the waistband of your pants as a wicked smirk tugs at her lips.

“Agatha” you whimper, your voice trembling as your hands pull more insistently at the fabric of her shirt. “Please, I—”

The words die in your throat as her hand slips lower, cupping you through the damp fabric of your underwear. The pressure makes you cry out, your hips bucking against her palm.

“Look at you…” she murmurs, her voice thick with smug satisfaction, the edge of mockery sharpening her words as her fingers press harder, the friction sending sparks through your body. “So wet, so needy… you’ve been aching for this for days, haven’t you?”

You nod frantically, your teeth sinking into your trembling lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle the lustful sounds spilling from your throat. Your eyes are glassy with unspoken pleas, the sheer effort to contain yourself only makes your surrender all the more obvious.

She chuckles darkly, her lips trailing down your neck to your collarbone. 

“Poor little Omega.” she murmurs against your skin, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. “But I’m here now, and you’re finally going to get what you need.”

Her hands move quickly, tugging your pants and underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving you completely bare beneath her. The cool air against your heated skin makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the intensity of her gaze as she takes you in.

“You have no idea what you do to me…” she says softly, her voice filled with quiet awe as her hands slide up your thighs, spreading them apart.

A loud moan tears from your lips, your cheeks burning as her fingers trail boldly against your slick heat, exploring your folds with an almost cruel precision, testing and teasing until your breath comes in shallow, broken pants.

“Gods” she groans, her voice rough and strained as she pushes two fingers inside you. The stretch pulls a sharp gasp from your lips, the burn of it melting into a rush of pleasure that has your thighs trembling. Your body clenches around her instinctively, and the sound she makes is a primal, dangerous growl. 

She sets a slow, unrelenting rhythm, each thrust dragging a broken moan from your throat as pressure builds deep in your core. 

“Your body’s screaming for me to fill you.” she whispers, her words dripping with anticipation, almost lost in thought, as if she’s speaking more to herself than to you. There’s a raw wonder in her eyes as her fingers curl deeper, savoring the way your walls tighten around her, imagining how much more you’ll give her.

“F-fuck, Agatha! Please, please I can’t take it anymore!” you cry, your hips bucking against her hand.

Agatha doesn’t waste another second. She pulls her fingers away suddenly, leaving you whining and gasping for relief. With feral growl, she grabs your thighs and pulls you forward, dragging your hips to the very edge of the couch. Her strength leaves you breathless, the suddenness of her movements forcing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“You’re going to take every inch of me.” she snarls, her voice rough and dripping with authority. “Every inch, every thrust, until you can’t think about anything but how good it feels to be mine.”

Her words make you shudder, your head tipping back as your eyes flutter shut, her fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs with a bruising grip that promises vivid reminders on your skin for days to come.

“Look at me.” she orders, her grip tightening further as if daring you to disobey.

Your eyes snap open, meeting hers, dark and wild with need. It doesn’t look like she’s going to let you get away with anything less than complete submission.

“That’s better.” she growls, her voice edged with control as her lips curl into predatory grin. “Now, keep your eyes on me while I ruin you.”

She doesn’t bother undressing fully, her movements urgent and almost frantic as her fingers fumble with the clasp of her pants. She impatiently tugs them down just enough to free herself, the fabric pooling loosely around her hips. The sheer tension in her body is palpable, every motion speaking to a need barely held in check.

The sight of her hard cock steals the air from your lungs. Thick and flushed, a bead of precum glistens at the tip, catching the dim light as she wraps a firm hand around herself, stroking once to spread the slickness. 

The way she towers over you, every part of her commanding and unapologetically Alpha, leaves you trembling in anticipation.

“Spread those legs wider.” she orders, her tone resolute, demanding. “I want to see all of you. Don’t you dare hide from me.”

You obey, trembling as her tip brushes against your entrance, teasingly sliding through the slickness that coats you. Her cock glides up and down your folds, unhurried, pausing just long enough to make you ache for more. She taps it lightly against your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, before sliding lower, the head pressing briefly against your entrance only to retreat again, trailing back up with maddening slowness.

The deliberate rhythm has you squirming beneath her, every teasing stroke sending shivers through your body. Her cock catches on every ridge, every sensitive spot, heightening the unbearable tension with each pass. 

When she finally aligns herself, her tip presses firmly, and with one slow, unyielding push, she begins to sink in, the stretch immediate and all-consuming, setting every nerve in your body alight.

“Fuck” she groans, her voice thick as her hips roll forward, driving herself deeper. “So warm… so fucking tight. You were made for this, made for me.”

You cry out, your nails digging into the couch cushions as she fills you completely, the heat overwhelming as your body struggles to accommodate her.

“That’s it.” she growls, her hands sliding up to grip your hips. “Take all of it. I want you to feel how deep I am, how fucking good it feels to be full of me.”

She picks up her pace, and the sound of her hips colliding with yours echoes through the room, harsh and rhythmic, mingling with the wet, obscene noises that accompany every thrust.

“You hear that?” she asks, her voice dripping with satisfaction as her nails bite into your skin. “That sound—that’s what it means to belong to me.”

“Ag—oh, fuck!” you whimper, your voice cracking as your head falls back, your body trembling under her assault.

“Say it!” she snaps, her teeth grazing your jaw before biting down hard enough to make you gasp. “Say my fucking name.”

“Agatha!” you cry, your voice pitching higher as her hips drive forward with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. Each thrust buries her deeper, the growing swell of her knot pressing insistently against your entrance, stretching you further with every punishing movement. 

The sheer intensity of it sends a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs, the undeniable slickness amplifying the pleasure that teeters dangerously on the edge of unbearable.

“Scream it louder, Omega! I want the whole fucking street to hear who owns you.” she growls, her voice a low rumble as her lips find your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

You sob her name, your nails clawing at her back as she shifts her angle, the new position sending a jolt of pleasure so intense that stars dance behind your eyes.

“You’re taking me so well, like you were made for my cock. Like you were made to be mine.” she groans, her thrusts becoming messier, rougher. Her hips slam into yours mercilessly as her hands slide to the back of your knees, pinning you in place. 

“I’m yours, Agatha. Only yours.” you cry, your body arching into hers, chasing the heat that coils tighter and tighter in your core.

Her left hand slides between your bodies, her fingers finding the most sensitive part of you as she circles it with brutal precision. The wet slap of skin against skin grows louder, the sound mixing with your cries and her deep, guttural groans.

The added pressure on your throbbing clit sends a jolt through your entire body, making your walls flutter and clench around her cock. Her rhythm starts to falter, thrusts turning erratic as her groans deepen into primal, animalistic grunts, vibrating against your neck as her need consumes her.

The knot at her base swells even more, pressing insistently at your entrance, stretching you impossibly wide. The sensation is overwhelming, the perfect mix of pleasure and pain, and you can’t take it anymore.

Your voice, breathless and desperate, breaks through her haze, each word drenched in urgency. 

“Oh fuck, yes! Give it to me, Agatha.” you plead, your hands clutching at her shoulders as your gaze locks onto hers, unflinching and shameless. “I need you to fill me up, please.”

The words obliterate the last fragile threads of her restraint. Agatha’s body seizes above you, her hips snapping forward in one final, devastating thrust that buries her completely inside you. 

The knot locks into place, stretching you to your limit as she comes with a deep, feral growl. Her cock pulses inside you, thick and hot, each wave of her release filling you so completely it feels like it could spill over.

And the sudden fullness, combined with the steady friction on your clit, triggers something deep inside you. The sensation is intoxicating, unbearable in its intensity, and it sends your body spiraling out of control. You cry out as your climax washes over you, violent and unrestrained, your walls squeezing around her, greedily milking her until there’s nothing left to give. 

“Fuck!” Agatha snarls, her voice shaking as your body reacts to her. Her hands grip your waist tightly, her fingers digging into your skin as she rides out the intensity of her own release, her hips jerking involuntarily with each pulse. “That’s it. That’s my good Omega.”

Your hips roll instinctively against hers, desperate to take everything she’s giving you. Her cock, her knot, her cum, her words, her growls—it’s all so overwhelming, you feel like you might pass out from the sheer intensity of it.

“You feel that?” she murmurs against your ear, her voice weak and wrecked, yet still dripping with dominance. “That’s me, filling you. Breeding you. And you’re taking it so perfectly.

Her words push you even higher. Your moans break into breathless cries, and your vision blurs, a single tear slipping down your cheek as the overwhelming sensation consumes you entirely, leaving you trembling and undone beneath her.

Agatha keens softly, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as her body finally stills.

“You’re mine.” she whispers, her voice gentler now as her knot remains locked inside you, keeping her warmth exactly where it belongs.

The aftershocks ripple through you both, your body still clenching around her knot as you collapse back against the couch. Her hands roam over your thighs, soothing and grounding, as her lips press a lingering kiss to your temple.

You remain still for a few minutes, basking in the lingering haze of passion as the intensity of the moment refuses to fade. Agatha’s knot starts to soften, each slow shift of her hips pulling a satisfied whine from her lips as she moves, her careful withdrawal drawing a wince from you at the residual stretch. 

The slick, wet sensation of her release slipping free leaves you shivering, a warm gush spilling from your core and pooling beneath you in a sinful mess.

Agatha leans back slightly, her gaze sharp and intense as she takes in the sight of you—completely wrecked, your chest heaving, your skin flushed, and her cum dripping from you. A satisfied smirk curls her lips, and she reaches out, her fingers dragging lazily through the mess she’s made.

“Look at you.” she murmurs, her voice rough with satisfaction. “So pretty. So fucking full.”

You flinch at the overstimulation, your body twitching under her touch, but you’re too spent to move away. Despite yourself, your thighs clench involuntarily, a traitorous reaction that doesn’t escape her notice. She chuckles darkly, an indulgent sound dripping with pride, as if savoring the proof of how thoroughly she’s unraveled you.

Her fingers glide higher, smearing the evidence of her claim over your inner thighs. Her half-lidded eyes lock onto yours, and the insatiable lust simmering just beneath the surface makes your throat go dry. 

“That’s mine, Omega.” she murmurs, her voice low and reverent, each word rolling over you like a caress. “Every single drop.”

Her hand lingers, tracing the sticky trail she’s left behind, and she leans down, her lips brushing a firm kiss to the curve of your hip. 

“Could watch you like this all night.” she purrs, her tone dripping with admiration. “My perfect, ruined little Omega.”

A soft, pleading sound escapes your throat as your hand snakes down to grip her wrist. The longing in your gaze is undeniable, your swollen lips parting as if to say something, but no words come. Instead, you tug her toward you with surprising force, crashing your lips against hers in a kiss that’s nothing short of a necessity. It’s gentle, yet fervent, your teeth grazing her bottom lip as your nails dig into her skin.

For a moment, Agatha freezes, her surprise palpable. Then, as if spurred by instinct, she returns the kiss with equal fervor, her tongue sweeping past your lips to claim you all over again. 

Her hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, angling you deeper into the kiss as she presses her body closer, her dominance bleeding through even in her response.

When she finally pulls back, her mouth remains slightly parted, her breath coming in shallow, uneven draws as she gazes down at you. Her eyes glint with wicked promise, and her lips glisten with the remnants of your kiss.  

“Rest now.” she mutters, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, yet still carrying the weight of her authority. “You’ll need your strength… I’m nowhere near done with you.”

[tentavamp]

genuinely starting to feel like a lot of this isn’t worth it

[veilofwinter]

#HATE HOW I LOVE YOU

pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

tags: hate sex, ellie, and more ellie <3

You HATED Ellie Williams, and hate is not a light word. You hated her hair, you hated her buff yet skinny arms, you hate how her eyes would roll when you walked into a room. You hated how even though you hated her, you loved the sight of her face.

"Dina, you know I hate doing shit with her. She makes everything so miserable." You crossed your arms over your chest, sucking on the lollipop in your mouth. "Look YN, just try, please? I'll talk to her, okay?"

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Fine, I'll come but if she starts something I can't grantee I won't go off on her ass."

Soon you found yourself in a small circle with Dina, Jesses, and Ellie. "Let's have a drink." Dina suggests, standing to grab the nearby liquor on the table. "Where'd you even get this from?" You ask leaning back. "Does it matter, just drink it." Ellie speaks, glaring at you like she has been the whole time. You take a deep breath, turning toward Dina. "So, where'd you get it from."

"Just pass me the damn liquor Dina." Ellie interrupts Dina. "Ellie can you for once not be a god damn pain in the fucking ass?" You turn to her, giving her a disgusted look. "Me not be a pain in the ass and you're asking dumbass questions, let's just fucking drink." Suddenly you stand. "Okay I'm not doing this. I even tried to ignore her and still she found a way to be a bitch." Ellie stans as well. "You're callin' me a bitch? Have you seen your attitude lately love?"

You throw your hands up in defeat. "I'm leaving." Finally, Dina stands and grabs your arm. "YN no. You're gonna stay in here! You two need to do something about whatever the hell this weird ass beef is!" I roll my eyes, "I'm not going to stay here and try to make up with her, it's not like she listens." Ellie tries to rush you, but Jesse grabs her. "Okay can everyone just calm the fuck down?!"

Dina takes a deep breath. "You two are going to sit in here and you're going to fucking make up." You shake your head. "I'm not doing that shit." Ellie laughs. "Yeah right, I'm not sitting in a room with her alone." You glare at her, crossing your arms against your chest. “Dina, I swear to go-“ Dina places her hand over your mouth.

“You both are going to stay in this damn room, and you're going to make the hell up.” She fake smiles, grabbing Jesse. You chase after her, “Dina-“ She slams the door in your face and locks it. “Make. Up!” She yells.

Now you sit face to face with Ellie, the silence piercing through the room. “Look, I ain’t plannin’ to make up. So, let’s just pretend we’re cool and leave it at that.” She leans back in the most enticing way, her legs spreading the just right amount.

You struggle to keep your eyes from raining to in between her legs. “I can’t even pretend to like you.” You say rolling your eyes to look away. “You can’t pretend to like me, but you can pretend like you weren’t just staring in between my legs?” She smirks, sitting up and leaning down against her knees.

Your face heats up and you avoid eye contact. “I wasn’t ev-“ Ellie laughs, “Damn and then you lie about it? I thought you were bolder than that.” You glare at her. “You’re so cocky, you must think everyone likes looking in between your legs.” She laughs once more. “I know you do.”

She silences you.

Suddenly she stands, placing herself in front of you on the floor. “So do you wanna make up or not?” She was close, very close. Her eyes trailing down to your lips, her hands placed on your thighs. “What are you talking about?” You speak quietly from being so close.

“Let’s make up.”

After that phrase was uttered, you and Ellie’s lips collide at a fast speed. The kiss so sloppy and good it has you feeling feverish. Her rough hands sliding up your shirt, against the skin of your stomach. “You must’ve waited so long for this huh?” She says smirking against your lips.

“Just shut the fuck up.” Ellie laughs. “Shut me up.” Those words ignite a light in your belly, causing you to squeeze your legs together. “Look at you all tense, want me to help you?” She asks, placing her hands higher up your shirt. Her hands find themselves unbuckling your black bra, and you were happy you wore it.

“Must’ve known this was gonna happen huh? Wore such a pretty bra f’me?” Ellie attaches her lips to your neck, biting down softly and pulling a small sound from your lips as you jolt. “Want me to touch you? Tell me.” She waits for your response. “Yeah. I do Ellie, so just fucking do it.”

“Don’t be a bitch about it.”

Finally, you're on your back, her fingers penetrating you at a fast pace. “This feel good huh? Always talking shit, I guess this shuts you up?” She grins over you, watching your face contort from pleasure. “F-fuck! Shut the fuck u-up...!” Your back arching off the couch as she hits that one sweet spot inside you.

“Yeah? This the spot for you huh?” She places your nipple into her mouth, sucking softly. “Oh! Okayokay..!” You place your fingers into her hair, your eyes closed and filling with tears from how good you feel. “Holy-“ Ellie pulls away from the bud with a pop, saliva coating the nipple sloppily.

“Gonna cum around my fingers? Yeah?” She speeds up, your core tightening around her fingers. “I-I’m gonn-“ Ellie suddenly pulls her fingers away. You gasp, looking at her with a glare. “What the hell-“ She places her hand over your mouth. “Lay back down you big baby.”

You force yourself back down with a groan. Ellie’s mouth finds its way to your clot, sucking harshly. “Wh- AH!” Your hands going to her head as she sucks and licks at your swollen bud. Her eyes never leaving yours as she watches the tears that had built in your eyes finally fall.

“Gonna- whew! I’m gonna cum El’s!” Ellie sucks harder, just enough to make you go over the edge. The pull you have in her hair causing her to groan softly into your cunt. She licks your juices all up, not leaving a drop behind. She sits up, wiping the side of her lip and placing her finger into her mouth like she had leftover sauce from a meal.

“You taste so good YN, if I would’ve known that I’d have eaten you out sooner.” She comes close to your face, causing your face to scrunch. “I thought we made up?”

“Not even close.”

My Requests are open!

@sorrowsblogworld @sorrowsideas @tinygojo

[bokunokamijirou]

lowk hear me out:

post war, touya is recovering in the hospital, and rei comes and visits reader in jail to learn more about her son since they were dating 🥺

A Mother's Word

TouyaxF!Reader

ft. Rei Todoroki

You had told the guards no visitors. You knew if anyone were to come see you, it'd just be to laugh in your face.

The war wasn't kind to you, but it was harsher to your boyfriend, Touya. While he was burning alive with his family, you were attempting to subdue heroes far from your love.

It's what All For One insisted upon, so you had to listen.

But you didn't join the League for him. Not even for Touya. The message that Shigaraki was spreading about a world where people who were seen as villains had the same chances as heroes? That was something you wanted, no, needed to believe in. Your family abandoned you when you were younger, and you'd been running along the streets ever since.

You joined the League and found your new family, purpose, and the love of your life.

You just didn't know what it meant, loving Dabi. Because you didn't love him, no, well- maybe you did. But it was Touya, the man he was when it was just you two, alone- that's who you love.

So, imagine your surprise when you discover his own mother had arrived to visit you. You had only heard short stories about Rei, and you weren't entirely sure what to expect when you met her.

The guards approach you, asking if you'd see her. She hid behind them clutching her bag, but the sadness and exhaustion across her face made you feel sympathetic. He had her eyes, after all.

"Okay, just this once," you manage to croak out as you suddenly feel self-concsious. What could she want? Is Touya recovering still? Is Endeavour coming too? He better not, you'd go feral trying to hurt him. Even if Touya didn't want you to, you'd always hate that man for what he did to his family.

"I- I was just visiting Touya in the hospital yesterday" Rei says quietly as she stands in front of the bars caging you in. "He was asking about you."

"Typical Touya, worried more about me than he is about himself. I'm doing fine..." you reply coldly, avoiding eye contact.

"He- he said he wanted me to meet you." Rei placed her hand gently on the metal bars separating you both.

You stop and glance up at her, the way her eyes were pleading for answers made you freeze. "He said that to me too, before, you know-" you respond softly this time.

"Can you... can you tell me about him?" Rei's voice cracks as she asks.

"About him?" You look at her puzzled.

"My son, he was so young when he disappeared that I- what's he like?" Rei questioned, her eyes wide.

"Touya... Touya he's-" You start and choke back the tears that are trying to fall. "He's an idiot. He doesn't think before he jumps into danger because he's not afraid to die... that's how we met actually." You smile fondly as you wipe the small drops of water off your cheeks.

"I was supposed to just do recon for the League, my first solo mission. But it was a trap and the heroes had me cornered. I didn't know what to do- I froze. I was ready to give up. Then Touya just kind of showed up, right in front of me. Didn't even think twice."

Rei hesitantly smiles as she nods, "That sounds a lot like Touya, glad to know he didn't lose that part of him."

"He's protective, that's for sure. Got jealous easily... whenever they'd send me on missions without him he'd find some way to tag along. I think that ever since we met, it was like he felt he had to protect me... like he was afraid to ever lose me" you start to cry and let your head fall into your hands.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry dear. I didn't mean to make you cry," Rei frowns.

"I love him so much... you created a beautiful son- I just miss him so much" you manage to sob out.

Rei nods, wiping her own tears, “what else do you love about him?”

“He was honest with me… he told me about you all too, before we even started dating…”

Rei freezes, but continues listening.

“He’s a great listener. Lets me talk about anything. And god, when you get him started, he never shuts up…” You smile to yourself. “What I’d do to hear his stupid voice again…”

"He's going to be okay... he's recovering..." She smiles reassuringly but with a pang of sadness.

"Can you tell him something for me the next time you see him?" You ask her hopefully. Rei nods in response.

"No goodbyes, I'll see you soon, idiot." you smile and finally lift your head to meet Rei's eyes once more. She smiles and nods.

You didn’t think this was how you’d meet your future mother-in-law, but your relationship with Touya had never been predictable anyways.

[hoernypie]

Marking Territory

tags: creamp!e, public, sex (p+v), au, pet names, costumes, party

wc: ~3k

"You look cute", you giggled fixing Sukuna's wolf ears from the costume, "Don't worry, nobody will laugh seeing you in that," you reassured him while caressing his chest. He only huffs rolling his eyes, regretting agreeing to your idea of putting ears on him. "Tho maybe I should get changed, just because someone had to "mark me"...", you sigh loudly looking at your reflection in the mirror, the wet patch between your legs decorating your costume was too big to be ignored by others. All of that because Sukuna quietly hated your costume, it was too revealing and he just knew some drunk idiot would try to hit on you so he just had to be sure you'd remember who you belonged to.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed another tissue to pat down the wet spot, trying to minimize the damage. "Come on, let's go," he said with a smirk, walking out of the bathroom. The party was in full swing now, the music's bass thumping through the house, laughter and chatter filling the air. You scanned the room for a familiar face to avoid any questions they'd ask about the stain on the costume. As you both made your way through the dancing people, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with a hint of anxiety.  You tightened your grip on Sukuna's hand, still thinking how a while ago he fucked you in the bathroom. Despite his earlier grumbling, he wore the wolf ears without further complaint.

As you entered the crowded living room, you felt a sense of relief when you spotted your friends' table, but before you could walk to them, Sukuna grabbed your shoulder - making you stop. "I'm gonna grab a drink," he said leaning down, "Behave like a good little bunny". You nodded and made your way to the table, and leaned over it, immediately trying to joke with stoned Shoko. As soon as he was out of earshot, a tall, lanky guy dressed as a Dracula sidled up to you, checking you out in your costume. "You look like you could use a bite," he quipped with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. You looked at him with disgust in response, but before you could come up with a comeback, he leaned closer, his breath reeking of booze and cheap cigarettes. "Come on baby, loosen up. Let's have some fun," he slurred, reaching for your right breast. Disgust and anger bubbled up in your chest, your mind racing as you took a step back and felt the wetness spread further on your costume. Just as your hand was rising to smack him, a big hand gripped his wrist, pulling him away. "I believe she's not interested in charity work," Sukuna said with a calmness that hid the anger in his voice. The drunk Dracula's smirk faltered, his gaze flicking from your face to Sukuna's and then down to the hand resting on his wrist. He stumbled back a step, a mix of fear and embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "S-sorry, man," he mumbled, trying to pull away, but Sukuna's grip remained firm. "Get the fuck away from her," Sukuna said, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Sukuna disappeared into the sea of people, dragging the guy out, leaving you at the table with Shoko and the others, who were too engrossed in their own conversations and smoking to care about that situation. You took a moment trying to shake off the situation with the drunk Dracula. Just as you began to relax and reached for the blunt, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around expecting it to be Sukuna, but instead, you found yourself face to face with a smirking college boy dressed as a pirate, his pants unzipped. "Hey there, little bunny," he slurred, his eyes ogling your costume. "You looked like you could use some better company," he leered, his hand sliding down to your waist. You stiffened, ready to push him away, when you heard a scoff from behind you. Sukuna reappeared, a drink in one hand and a fiery look in his eyes. He stepped between you and the pirate, his other hand gripping the back of the chair to keep himself from lunging at the guy, considering smacking him with the chair now. "Fuck off," he said through gritted teeth. The pirate's smug expression faltered, and he took a step closer, his hand tightly gripping your waist. 

The pirate smirked as he ignored Sukuna's warning look. "What's your problem, dude?" he slurred, his grip on your waist not loosening. Sukuna's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thinner than the fabric of your costume. "I said fuck off," he repeated, his voice full of anger. The pirate's friends, noticing the tension, began to gather around, egging him on with drunken cheers. One of them snickered, "Looks like the wolf's got some territorial issues." Shoko and the rest of your friends looked up from their smokes, sensing the impending confrontation. You felt a knot form in your stomach as the pirate leaned closer, his breath hot and foul against your ear. "Don't worry, darling, I'll show you a treasure you won't forget," he whispered, his hand inching downwards while the other one moved dangerously close to your breast. Sukuna's restraint snapped like a thin twig. He slammed his drink onto the table, the liquid spilling everywhere, and grabbed the pirate by the collar. "You're going to regret this," he growled, pulling the drunk college boy away from you. The pirate stumbled, but as he tried to regain his footing, he slipped on the spilled drink, crashing into the coffee table with a resounding thud. The room fell silent for a split second before bursting into laughter seeing this goofy moron, the tension dissipating as his friends helped him up, half-dragging him away to nurse his drunk bruised pride. You let out a shaky sigh of relief, your fingers moving to brush against the stain on your costume, a reminder. Sukuna turned back to you, his eyes softening. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the noisy room. You nodded, a weak smile forming on your lips. "Fuck," he said, "Can't even leave you for a moment. Maybe I should put you on the leash next time." He squeezed your cheek before walking with you to get another drink, leaving your friends, who had returned to their huddled conversation about how cheesy is the cheesiest cheese. The party buzzed on around you, but your mind was racing with thoughts of the possessive side of Sukuna, and the wetness between your legs grew, mixing his cum with your slick.

Sukuna led you through the dancing people to an empty couch in the corner of the room. As he sat down, he pulled you onto his lap, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight against him while in the other he had a bottle of beer. You couldn't help but feel safe in his embrace, despite the sticky mess in your costume. His lips brushed over your neck, feeling the warmth of your skin. "You're so cute," he murmured in your ear, his breath tickling your skin. "Only mine." You blushed, tilting your head a little, allowing his lips to further explore your neck. The room spun around you as he continued to leave kisses and hickeys on your neck, your breath hitching in anticipation. You nodded, your heart racing as his touch made your body burn. He gripped your cheeks with one hand, allowing his lips to claim yours in a fiery sloppy kiss that left you gasping for air. As he broke the kiss, you looked into his eyes. "Will you be a quiet bunny?" he whispered, his hips slowly grinding against you. "Wait, not here! Everyone will see and-" he immediately cuts you off, "Well, maybe then those fucking losers will get into their heads that you're only mine."

Ignoring the protest on your lips, Sukuna's hand slid on your breast, his fingers brushing the nipple. His eyes never left yours as he took a swig of his beer, watching the emotions play across your face with smug satisfaction. You squirmed in his lap, the fabric sticking to your crotch, your cheeks flushing as you tried to keep your voice low. "Sukuna, not here," you whispered again, glancing around at the people who were all too engrossed in their own conversations and dance moves to notice your plight. He just chuckled, his grip tightening on your breast as he ground his hips against you, his erection growing more insistent with every beat of the music. "You're so fucking mine," he murmured, his eyes dark with lust. You gasped, feeling his hardness press against your core, your own arousal spiking in response. The thrill of being claimed so blatantly in public sent a shiver down your spine, and you had to admit, you loved the idea of marking you as his. 

Despite your initial protests, the desire to be claimed by Sukuna grew stronger with each passing second, your hips matching his rhythm. His hand traveled down to the wet spot on your costume, his fingers sliding against the sticky mess and pressing your clit, making you moan softly before you covered your mouth. Sukuna's smirk grew wider as he felt your body respond to his touch. "I want everyone to know," he breathed into your ear, his voice low and husky, "that this tight little cunt is only for me to play with." Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you nodded. 

Sukuna's grinding grew quicker, the heat from his body searing through the costume and into your skin, as his breath grew more ragged in your ear. "Hold it, until I say otherwise," he said before biting down gently on your lobe. The pressure on your clit grew more insistent, his fingers moving in a rhythm that had your eyes roll back from the pleasure. Your body tensed, the room spinning around you as the orgasm built, a delicious wave of pleasure nearly washing over your body. You could feel the eyes of a few nearby people flickering over, noticing what the two of you were doing. "Be a nice bunny and hold it," he whispered as teeth sunk into your bottom lip when he quickly pulled his fingers away and stopped his grinding just before you could come. "You are such a good girl." And with that, you panted looking at him with teary eyes. "S-Sukuna... meanie... bad dog..." you said poking the wolf's ear on his head.

Sukuna chuckled at your playful protest, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, my needy baby," he said, placing the bottle of beer aside, "Let's go and satisfy your tiny rabbit brain." He stood, lifting you effortlessly with him, and started navigating through the party. The sticky mess between your legs was a constant reminder of his earlier claim, and you couldn't help but squirm against him, feeling your arousal build once more. As you passed by a group of people, one of them, a blond-haired college boy dressed as a cowboy, whistled at you. "Nice costume, darlin'!" he shouted over the music. Sukuna's fingers dug into your skin before he sent a glare to that guy. You giggled despite the situation, feeling an excitement at his idea.

With an annoyed huff, Sukuna tightened his grip on you walking out into the cool night air, straight to the garden. As he walked further into the garden, the space was filled with the mix of rustling leaves and fainter sounds of the party and laughs. He found a spot where the bushes grew thick, a secluded area that offered a little bit of privacy. He pushed you gently against a large tree, his hands roaming over your body. "Let's continue our fun," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he took off his jacket and put it over your shoulders. You could feel his hard dick pressing against your thigh through his jeans.

With an annoyed huff, Sukuna tightened his grip on you walking out into the cool night air, straight to the garden. As he walked further into the garden, the space was filled with the mix of rustling leaves and fainter sounds of the party and laughs. He found a spot where the bushes grew thick, a secluded area that offered a little bit of privacy. He pushed you gently against a large tree, his hands roaming over your body. "Let's continue our fun," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he took off his jacket and put it over your shoulders. You could feel his hard dick pressing against your thigh through his jeans. You nodded, biting your bottom lip, and he smirked, knowing you were ready to let him do whatever he wanted. His hand reached cup your breasts, the cool air making your nipples hard. "Ready, bunny?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Yes, Mr. Wolf~", your heart racing, and he bit your shoulder, his thumbs brushing against your nipples.

Sukuna's thumbs circled around your nipples, teasing and pinching them gently through the fabric of your costume, sending waves of pleasure straight to your soaked core. You arched your back, pushing your breasts into his hands as a soft moan escaped your lips. His eyes darkened with lust as he took in the sight of you, panting and needy under his touch. "Sensitive little bunny," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. He leaned in, his teeth grazing your neck, leaving another bite mark. "You want me to make it feel good?" He didn't wait for your response, instead, his hands moved to pull down top of your costume, letting your breasts free. His palms cupped your bare breasts, his thumbs now flicking over the sensitive peaks. "Someone's been a very naughty bunny," he said, his voice thick with desire. He pinched your nipples a little harder, making you whine. "Look at me," he demanded, and you met his gaze, his eyes filled with possessiveness and jealousy. "Say it," he whispered, "Say you're mine.". "I-I'm yours, Mr. Big Bad Wolf," you moaned, your voice trembling from the cold and anticipation. "Good girl," he murmured before squeezing your cheeks with one hand, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, his tongue pressing against yours as his hand continued to explore your body, making you even more desperate for his touch when he slid your costume aside, your hand massaging his bulge.  Sukuna groaned into your mouth, not breaking the kiss as his hands moved to unzip his pants. In one swift motion, he pulled them down to his ankles, letting his aching erection free, beads of precum dripping down. The cold air kissed your exposed skin, making your nipples pebble even more. His eyes never left yours as he moved his fingers against your glistening pussy. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You're so fucking wet, maybe you like it public?" His tongue licking your neck. 

Sukuna's fingers slipped into your wetness, curling slightly to rub your g-spot, making you whine against his mouth. His thumb found your clit and began to circle it, teasing and taunting you, keeping you right on the edge of your climax yet again. He broke the kiss, looking into your eyes with a smug smile, watching as your pupils dilated with pleasure. "If you want my dick, make sure everyone hears just how much you belong to me," he murmured. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck as his fingers worked their magic. You bit down on your bottom lip, desperately holding him. The sensation was almost too much to bear, your body begging for release. "I wanna hear it," he demanded. "I'm yours, Mr. Wolf," you moaned loudly, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb pressed harder on your clit. With a smirk of satisfaction, he leaned back, his grip on your hips tightening as he held your leg up and filled you in one swift, smooth stroke that had you crying out as his balls slapped against your butt.

As you felt the fullness of Sukuna's cock inside you, you couldn't help but let out a loud moan, your back pressing against the tree and your eyes widely open. His hand moved from your neck to push two fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue before moving them in and out, his eyes gleaming with dominance. "Shh," he whispered, the grin painting his face, "We wouldn't want to interest some morons with your sweet cries, would we?" His hips began to rock into you, setting a steady rhythm that had your legs trembling and your arms wrapped around his neck. Your eyes searched the shadows, half expecting someone to stumble upon you in this vulnerable, intimate moment, but the party remained a safe distance away, leaving you two alone. The thrill of the possibility of being busted, made your walls tighten around him and your body ached for more. The hand that had been playing with your breast moved to your neck, squeezing him, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Sukuna's pace grew more desperate, his breath hot and ragged in your ear as his hips slammed into yours like a feral animal. You tried to keep your moans quiet, his big hand over your mouth muffling the sounds. Each stroke brought you closer to the edge, and just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, his hand slipped away, allowing you to moan out his name. Your voice echoed softly through the garden. His grip on your neck tightened, as he watched you unravel. Sukuna's thrusts became deeper and faster, pushing you towards your climax. His cock plunged into you with every thrust, his own panting growing louder as he approached his peak.  You could feel the pressure in your belly growing tighter and tighter until it snapped, sending ecstasy into your brain as moans of his name echoed through the night. Sukuna's eyes blazed with triumph as he watched you come on his dick, his cum filling you as he panted against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin in a mark of ownership. You both stood there, panting and trembling, the cool air of the garden contrasting sharply with the heat between you two as he kissed you softly. "Mine," he murmured again, his arms holding you up as your legs gave out from under you, the sticky mess of your climax joining the stains of his earlier claim. With a smug smile, he pulled out, tucking himself away before helping you fix your costume, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the marks he had left on your costume. “Let’s go back, baby.”

[lynnimini]

₊⊹ 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 ₊⊹

description: fluff ⋆ oneshot

in which y/n and woonhak are the epitome of high school love straight out of a drama: innocent, sweet, silly, and most of all, dramatic

pairings: k. woonhak x afab!reader

words: 2.3k

warnings: one mention of boynextdoor’s “but i like you”, so you may want to pause “polaroid love” (if listening) to listen to the chorus for a bit !!

author’s note: hiii !! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) i just wanted to say that this oneshot is partially inspired by enhypen’s song “polaroid love” so i strongly recommend that you listen to it while reading (ㅅ´ ˘ `) happy reading !!

tags: @onedoornet

my heart is racing. why am i like this?

"bye woonhak!"

woonhak politely smiled and waved goodbye to the girls in his class who giggled and ran outside of the classroom, happy that woonhak gave them even a sliver of his attention.

woonhak turned his attention back towards the window next to his desk, looking down at the yard where you sat with your friends eating and having fun during the lunch period.

he didn’t know much about you yet, just knowing you were an upperclassman, but he found himself undeniably interested in you. you managed to catch his attention immediately when you first walked up to him a couple days ago.

───────────୨ৎ───────────

“hi”

you’d come up to him when he was at the library, just smiling softly and sitting across from him as if you guys were close friends. woonhak waved back and tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“hey?”

woonhak’s eyebrow raised as you propped your head up on your hand, elbow resting against the table casually.

“i think you’re cute”

you said suddenly with a slightly mischievous glint in your eyes, causing woonhak to suddenly choke on air as he set his pencil aside, forgetting about his work in the face of another confession.

“you’re not the only one who thinks so”

woonhak said proudly, subtly flexing his arms as he wore a proud smile on his face. you rolled your eyes and laughed.

“big ego too i see. do you accept confessions often mr. cute underclassman?”

woonhak scoffed, but the faint red hue spreading to his ears betrayed how flustered he was by your straightforward attitude.

“nope. you gotta do better than that. i don’t give all this to just anyone”

woonhak said nonchalantly, trying hard to act cool. in reality, woonhak’s just a hopeless loverboy who wants someone who loves him for him. hell, he hated when girls confessed just because they thought he was cute.

“i don’t remember saying i was confessing?”

you said with an innocent smile, eyes revealing a mischievous glint that told woonhak otherwise.

“i just said i think you’re cute woonhak. just a compliment, nothing more”

you slowly got up from your chair, peeking at woonhak’s expression as you got up. he scoffed, an intrigued smile peeking at the corners of his lips.

───────────୨ৎ───────────

for a few days after, woonhak couldn’t stop thinking about you. you hadn’t yet talked to him after your first encounter, leaving woonhak to curiously wonder about you from his desk next to the window.

as if you could feel woonhak’s eyes on you from above, you looked up to him and gave him a smile that had the ghost of a smirk at the corners of your lips.

i guess it was a trap that i fell for even though i knew it

“woonhak!”

he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in exactly 3 days, 8 hours, 24 minutes, and 13 seconds. he whipped his head around quickly to see you jogging towards him with a smile, hair bouncing with each step you took.

“let’s walk home together”

you fell into step beside him, giving him a genuinely sweet smile that caused woonhak’s heart to stutter just a bit.

“how do you know where i live”

woonhak looked at you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes as you looked at him and scoffed teasingly.

“you know the long way you take to avoid the mob of girls waiting for you? you walk straight by my house on your way home”

you pointed in the direction woonhak did indeed take to avoid the random girls at the main bridge across the lake.

woonhak absolutely hated being stalked by random girls so he changed his route every month just to avoid them. he managed to miss avoiding one girl, not that he minded or anything.

“did you miss me? i saw you looking at me today”

you looked up at him and teased, woonhak letting out yet another exasperated scoff.

“not at all. you just happened to be there”

he retorted and you laughed, walking in sync with him as you two discreetly passed by the mob of girls.

woonhak found it really easy to talk to you. he found out that you’re not that much older than him, only getting accepted into the grade above him because of the narrow cutoff date while he just missed it.

you two talked about your friends, sports, clubs, basically everything you wanted to know about each other. you realized that woonhak was way more than the cool, sporty first impression many had of him.

the way he talked so passionately about what he loves was genuine. you never imagined woonhak would be into making music and singing and dancing.

the way he pouted whenever you teased him was adorably childish. you couldn’t help it. he was so smiley and sweet that you had to tease him every once in a while.

the way he stumbled over his own feet while walking next to you showed how clumsy he was, despite boasting about how good he was at soccer.

while it was true you were like everyone else who approached woonhak because he was cute, you started genuinely falling for woonhak because of his silly personality and actions.

“well, this is my house woonhak. see ya”

you waved goodbye as you bounced up the steps to your front door, quickly unlocking it and leaving woonhak stunned on the sidewalk.

“wait what’s your name?”

he shouted as he regained his thoughts just before your front door clicked shut. he watched it open again, your face poking through the doorway with a big smile as you shouted back.

“it’s y/n!”

it’s not going my way. i don’t even have any trendy filter

woonhak couldn’t believe you still liked him after seeing his clumsy, awkward side. once he realized that you did, he started to fall for your sincerity. you didn’t just want him for his looks. you liked him for him.

from then on, it was really woonhak who was pursuing his newfound crush instead of you chasing after him.

woonhak’s efforts to impress you were obvious and lackluster, but adorably endearing all the same. he started becoming clumsier, stuttering and mixing up his words around you. he didn’t even change his route to walk home as usual and kept walking home with you for months after. he even brought you small gifts and snacks from the school store once in a while. it was “on sale” as he liked to say every single time.

woonhak knew he fell hard. it’s the typical ‘she fell first, he fell harder’ romance trope he never thought he would get himself stuck in.

he’d never had a crush on anyone before. he didn’t know that the butterflies in his stomach and blush that showed whenever he saw you were signs that he liked you. he even thought he was sick before WikiHow told him he had a crush on you.

woonhak had no idea what to do. he’d had all these thoughts of falling in love with someone and having the perfect confession, but he had no idea how to go about it. so he did the only thing he knew: call his less than trustworthy friends who also had no idea !!

“hey, i need your help”

that’s all woonhak had to say before taesan and jaehyun came running over about half an hour later.

“what’s the issue this time”

taesan sighed while jaehyun made himself comfortable at woonhak’s house, grabbing chips out of the pantry.

“do you guys know who y/n is”

jaehyun perked up at the sound of your name. taesan looked fairly surprised that woonhak was even bringing you up.

“she’s our super smart class president. why?”

woonhak took a deep breath, mentally preparing to get teased by his upperclassman friends.

“i really like her and i need you guys to help me compose a song to go with my lyrics”

woonhak breathed out all at once, looking back and forth between jaehyun and taesan. jaehyun and taesan exchanged glances, smirking at each other before turning back to woonhak.

“are you in love with our lovely class president, woonhak”

jaehyun cooed as woonhak groaned, knowing exactly what would happen out of the entire ordeal.

“yes i’m in love with her, so please just help me on this”

he begged and taesan chuckled, grabbing the phone from woonhak to look at the lyrics.

“don’t worry loverboy”

taesan teased before he grabbed his laptop out of his bag and got to work, jaehyun and woonhak working together to get the lyrics and melody down perfectly.

and a week later, woonhak’s means of confession was ready to show you. after much hype and encouragement from his friends, woonhak knew exactly what to do from there.

love, that old fashioned feeling

“hey, i brought my camera like you asked. why’d you need it again?”

you came up to woonhak as usual after school, waving around your polaroid camera. you thought woonhak had a master photographer awakening all of a sudden.

woonhak looked visibly nervous upon seeing you, trying his best to mask his nervousness as exhaustion from the day.

“i want to take a nice picture today. my friend taught me how to take good pictures so i wanted to try”

that was a complete lie. woonhak had no idea how to take pictures, but he wanted to capture what was to come later.

you and woonhak walked home as usual, talking about how your guys’ days went and stuff. you told woonhak a story about how a bird flew into the classroom and took your workbook, so you were excused from work for the next couple days.

“oh yeah, do you wanna listen to this new song i found? i wanted to show you but the teacher took my phone away”

woonhak scratched his head sheepishly. that part was entirely true. woonhak had been texting taesan and jaehyun back and forth about you so much that the teacher saw and wasn’t entirely pleased.

woonhak was devastated at the time because it meant he couldn’t text you either, but he kept his head high at the thought that you might become his girlfriend in a few hours.

you took woonhak’s headphones from his outstretched hand and fit them into your ears, holding a thumbs up. woonhak took a shaky deep breath and pressed play.

“you’re driving me crazy, but i like you

you’re driving me crazy, but i like you, oh

i don’t like your eyes, nose, lips, even your jokes

i like it, only me”

it took you until the chorus to realize that it was woonhak’s voice singing the song, looking at him in complete shock as he smiled nervously at you and waited for the song to be over.

you took off woonhak’s headphones and hung them around your neck.

“so, how was it-“

you cut him off by standing on your tiptoes and intertwining your hands behind woonhak’s neck, pulling him in for your guys’ first kiss. you felt woonhak’s hands snake around your waist, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

it was a perfect moment. the summer breeze blew through your guys’ hair as you kissed, sending shivers down your spine. it was silent all but for the rustling of leaves on the trees blowing all around. it was genuinely like a teenage dream. something straight out of a romance novel.

“is this your confession to me?”

you asked, smiling softly as you pulled away. you stood level again as you looked up at a nervous woonhak.

“maybe”

woonhak said nonchalantly as you burst out into laughter, woonhak following shortly after.

“it is, it is. so, will you be my girlfriend y/n?”

he asked and you reached for his hand, giving him a genuine smile as you interlocked your pinky with his.

“i will”

you replied softly, making woonhak break into the biggest smile as he pulled you by the waist for a tight hug, never wanting to let go.

“i like you so much”

he confessed as he leaned his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes which were both lovely crescents at how widely you smiled.

“me too woonhak. me too”

you gave him a soft peck and he giggled, burying his head into your hair while you leaned onto his chest. a beat of silence followed before he said,

“i still want a picture of you”

he muttered into your hair as you let out muffled laughs. you stepped back and gave him the widest smile possible for the camera.

the picture came out perfect. the sunset was in the back and woonhak thought you looked ethereal, insisting that he keep the picture to put in the back of his phone case.

“so possessive”

you teased. instead of woonhak giving you one of his usual groans, he just smiled widely, happy that you were finally his.

it’s like a polaroid love

you and woonhak made no effort to keep your relationship private at school. you held hands whenever and wherever you were, occasionally visiting each other between classes.

the girls woonhak rejected were jealous, but they knew they couldn’t compare. you were highly respected as the class president and a student with high class rank. how could they compete with that?

you and woonhak became the “IT” couple as soon as you two made it public. you were the perfect balance to woonhak’s goofy side, calming him down and jokingly scolding him from time to time.

his friends were surprised woonhak got an older girlfriend. he was always seen as so goofy that they wouldn’t ever believe that someone older would go for someone so immature.

you and woonhak were just perfect together, and you weren’t afraid to show it. the two of you didn’t care about what other people thought, only caring for each other.

the pure, innocent love you two shared was something that was irreplaceable, and neither of you would have it any other way. you could say it was perhaps… picture perfect?

but i love that vibe

[coupsvi]

S.COUPS Military Enlistment : coupsvi rant

Hey! So I've seen many people talking about how Cheol's exemption from both military and public service means that his injury is worse than we thought, but that may not be the reason.

I left a comment on one post talking about this, but I thought I'd post it so that anyone coming to the following tags could see it.

Yes, his exemption means that his injury was bad. However, they said the surgery went well. When ACL's heal, they almost never regain the same strength as before, but that doesn't mean you can't be activve anymore. It's also weaker and more prone to tearing again, and having an injury that causes you to be unable to walk would serve no purpose in the military.

That being said, I think the main reason for him being exempt from service was that the risk of him re-injuring himself was too threatening, since even those going into public service need to undergo a period of military training. There's not much of point to enlist someone who's likely to be hurt during basic training, so exemption is just a way to avoid that possibility. It's been about 6 months since his surgery, and full-recovery of an ACL injury typically takes around 9 months. Though he's resuming SEVENTEEN activies alongside Jeonghan soon, that doesn't mean he's fully recovered.

At the same time, we still need to be supportive of him. I'm sure it's common knowledge that enlisting is a big part of every (required) Korean citizen's life, and for him to no longer be able to experience this big event may be upsetting for him. Don't give him hate. This entire process couldn't have been easy for him, so we need to give him the most support we can and DON'T SPREAD HATE!

[hawkinsbnbg]

top priority

Prompt: top | Word count: 510 | Rated: G | Tags: modern setting, light angst, fluff | @steddiemicrofic | ao3

Eddie’s career was doing great these days. People listened to his music, bought his albums, and recognized him on the streets.

Eddie Munson had become big.

Not over a fortnight, mind you, it was years of hard work, sleepless nights, and unyielding determination that got Eddie to where he was today.

And Steve was happy for him, willing to step back, to stay behind, to be a constant pillar so Eddie could spread his wings without worries.

Despite their relationship, he didn't expect Eddie to prioritize him over everything else.

(His parents had taught him the hard way how painful it was to hold his hope too high.)

He was content to be second, no, even third or fourth would be enough. And if it stung him to not be first on Eddie's list, then it was his own weight to bear.

Even when he hated sleeping alone on their bed, hated that Eddie's spot was often cold and empty most days, he never intended to burden Eddie with his problems.

Naturally, Steve omitted to mention that a small accident had landed him in the hospital on their nightly phone call.

When Eddie wondered why he sounded more tired than usual, he just threw some half-baked excuses and reassured Eddie that he was alright.

Since Eddie was on tours in Europe, the last thing he wanted was to be a distraction and ruin Eddie's performance.

Then again, he forgot to take Robin into account, because he should've known by now that Eddie’d bet on her to be the one informing him truthfully about Steve's well-being.

And here, sitting by his bedside, Eddie looked concerned and dead on his feet.

Judging by his disheveled appearance, anyone could tell that he had gone straight from the airport to the hospital without taking a break.

After helping Steve recline with some pillows, Eddie said nothing and just gazed at his cast with so much sadness that it pained Steve.

“C’mon, Eds,” he grabbed Eddie's hand to give the man a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not a big deal. I’m gonna be discharged soon anyway.”

“You fell from a ladder and broke your leg, baby,” Eddie brushed aside the stray hair on Steve's forehead. “That's a big deal to me.”

Shrugging, he shifted his gaze away to avoid those warm brown eyes. “Yeah, but your work is more important. I couldn't bring myself to… burden you.”

“No, I’ve told you this before and I’m telling you this now,” Eddie turned his face by his chin gently until their eyes met again. “You're never a burden, angel. You're my top priority. And nothing will ever keep me from running to you, okay?”

Steve nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. His lips might wobble a bit when he admitted quietly, “You're mine, too.”

Cradling his face, Eddie placed soft kisses on his forehead, his nose bridge, and his lips.

Then, Eddie stroked the apple of his cheek fondly.

“Lucky me.”

And Steve could hear his heart echo the same melody.

“Lucky us.”

Their love song.

[azullumi]

“wine pon you” ; genshin men

summary — you play a little prank on him.

includes — various characters (w/gender-neutral reader) ; used ‘pretty’ to describe the reader once

tags — fluff, established relationship, not proof-read, all word vomit, a little bit suggestive ; scenarios

words — 1311

note — i am losing my mind school starts next week already

“stop,” you tell him, avoiding him as your lover dives in for a kiss, however, he doesn’t listen but rather, he goes in for another one. perhaps he thought he was going to be successful this time but confusion contorts his expression into one when you swerve and evade his approach. 

“i have a boyfriend, remember?” you say to him whilst holding yourself back from laughing, before he realizes the act you were putting up. “so you can’t do that.” you added, grinning at him as your eyes sparkled in mischief.

he answered, smiling, “i’ll fight your boyfriend.” despite the nature of his words, there was no hint of malice in it, just playfulness lacing it.

“he’ll beat your ass.” you retort, a smug smile on your face and god, how much he loves you that he’s willing to play along with your antics. he adores seeing that amused expression on your face, the grin that you show him when you get the reaction you want, everything about you, there’s no inch of you that he doesn’t adore.

“oh, really?” he notes, voice low as his eyes gleamed with a dangerous light in it as he was getting more and more closer to you while you have nowhere to go.

“…don’t look at me like that.”

he hums, “like what? hm?” he didn’t even let you utter out a word of response before he  pressed his mouth against yours without any form of interruption. satisfaction and affection oozing on his lips as he finally achieved what he had been wanting and his kiss was hungry as if he had been waiting for too long to taste you.

he tangles his hand in your hair, pulling you much closer to him and the moment where he picked you up in his arms was too quick for you to even realize it, not until he gently placed you down the bed. needless to say, you weren’t going to play such stunts on him anymore, not when he’ll tease you so much in return.

childe, kaeya, itto, dottore, kaveh, wanderer/scaramouche

“what?” he asks, confusion exudes from his words as he with his eyebrows knitted. he wasn’t sure if he was hearing you correctly or if his ears were playing tricks on him but it seems to be the former when you answered.

“i have a boyfriend,” you repeated, in a serious tone, emphasizing each one of your words as you spoke as if your boyfriend wasn't literally hovering over you on the bed with his arms placed on each side of your head and trying to get a kiss from you. “so you can’t kiss me.”

silence ensues and the gears in his head start turning as he realizes, eyes rolling for a moment. he finds it ridiculous but it’s not like he hates it, only choosing to indulge in your happiness, “he’s probably not that good.” was his response, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face to the side. the action itself was gentle and you would have just given in and kissed him but you can’t, you weren’t satisfied yet.

you counter, trying to keep the same tone of seriousness as you tried to put on a stern look, “he is. he’s the best i could ever ask for, he makes me happy.”

it was the truth, really. he’ll probably never know of warmth that spreads across your chest whenever you’re with him, or maybe he does.

“oh yeah?” he looked amused, happy even after hearing your response but he still continued, “he probably stinks.” he jeered which earned a chuckle from you, breaking the facade that you were trying to put up.

“he really does.” you say without faltering, almost like you were sincere. he exclaimed, rather loudly and disbelief, “excuse me?” and you couldn’t hold in the laughter that you were trying to contain in your throat, seeing nothing but only bliss and contentment in each moment that you spent with him.

kaveh, childe, kaeya, venti, wanderer/scaramouche

“i’m your boyfriend.” he answered, mimicking your serious tone as he spoke while he kept a stoic look on his face. he was stating the obvious, telling the truth, but right now, you were planning on messing around with him for a bit. why? you just wanted to see how he would react.

you immediately turn down his answer, “no, you’re not.” and hearing this only caused him to be confused and probably question himself, or maybe your behavior. doubt obviously seeps into his expression as he stares at your pretty face.

“i am. are you perhaps drunk?” concern drips from his words when he asked you the question, his demeanor shifting from an addled one to worry. but how could you be drunk? he doesn’t smell any alcohol from you and he hasn't seen you drink anything that resembles it.

“you’re not and i am not drunk,” you grin at him, by now, it should be clicking in his mind, in just a second now— “is this one of your so-called pranks once again?” 

you took a second to answer, debating if you should tell him the truth or try to mess around with him more. “…maybe?” a hint of uncertainty was in your voice but also teasing in your tone as you dragged out the last syllable. he could only gaze at you with eyes full of warmth, “you’re so childish.”

“you love me though, right?” 

“so much so,” affection dribbled from his voice while he was caressing your cheek gently. god, he will seek you among the stars and whisper ‘i love you’ to the infinity of your soul, he’ll hold you forever that not even death could bring you two apart, that’s just how much he adores you.

and you would have kissed him at that moment if not for the words he uttered next, “but i’m not your boyfriend,” he chaff, which earned a groan from you.

zhongli, xiao, alhaitham, cyno, dainsleif, albedo, tighnari

“oh really? does he kiss you like this?” he doesn’t take a second or two to answer, already knowing the intentions behind your words. he just knows you so much.

in line with his response, he pressed a sweet kiss on your lips, a short one but enough to convey his message. he holds both of your hands that were pressing against his chest with his own, tangling his fingers in yours. 

he parts for a moment and muttered, “does he?” and even before you are given a chance to answer, he kisses you once again, this time much longer. the words you were about to say got lost in his tongue as he swipes it across your bottom lip in such a sensual manner.

it’s nice that he is willing to play along with you but archons, why does he have to be like this? getting back at you in such a cruel way—not like you hate it but god, you do. you hate how you love it.

he parts from your lips, breathing heavily and whispering, “does he get to see you like this?” 

in opposition to your hate, he loves seeing you like this: sweet and lovely on the tips of his fingertips, and he knows he has you right where he wants you to be whenever he sees you in such a state. “hm? why are you not saying anything anymore?”

“…you’re so unfair.” you could only muster yourself to say, a pout seen on your lips after you spoke and he laughed softly at your response. he was weak, weak for you and you could say that he was putty at your hands—even if it’s not so obvious. you could ask him for anything and everything and he’ll give it to you.

“it’s your fault, love.” 

diluc, ayato, kazuha, baizhu, pantalone, venti

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for faking my death to get out of an abusive relationship?

Tw for verbal + mental/psychological abuse and suicide

I used to be in a discord server with some friends, there were about 40 people in it, only around 20 who were actually active. It was a while ago I can't remember. I was in that server for about 4 months.

From the start, people would occasionally get mad at me over something I didn't do. About every month or so someone would start a rumor about me and make the whole server gang up on me, I'd tell them it was false, but everyone would still avoid me for the next couple days.

I never did anything wrong, but I was always the center of the drama, and when I asked one person, R, why, he said he didn't know and that I didn't deserve so much hate.

About a week later R was talking in the vent channel about how I had manipulated him. I DMed him to ask why, and he told me it was because I asked him if he was my friend. I thought it was fucking stupid because it's not manipulative to be paranoid, but I pretended to be sorry because I didn't want him to be mad at me.

The server also had a bot where you could submit anonymous messages, and lots of people would use that feature to make up things about me to ruin my reputation.

After a while I left the server and only stayed in contact with a few people. However, every couple days another person would tell me I'm a monster and gaslight me into thinking I'm a terrible person, and every time I asked why they hated me they didn't give me an answer.

My only real friend, T, showed me some messages from the others after I left the server, and a bunch of people were making up stories about bad things I had done to them, and people who I had never even spoken to were saying that I had abused them and was dangerous.

Once someone told me thay they understood all the things R had said about me weren't true, but said it was still my fault anyway, and even told me that R had done nothing wrong (he lied about me in front of the entire server and is the reason I lost all my friends, and he yelled at me and called me evil because I was suicidal), and then they accused me of faking having amnesia because I had flashbacks.

Eventually, only four of my "friends" hadn't blocked me, and they almost never talked to me. Everyone kept calling me a terrible person because R spread lies about me and everyone else believed him instead of me.

It was to the point where I couldn't go one day without someone sending me death threats or trying to guilt trip me with false information, and I was getting very sever flashbacks of the stuff R had said to me, and I started failing classes because I couldn't focus on anything.

Eventually I had had enough, so I tagged them all in a tumblr post about how I was going to kill myself and then logged out of both that tumblr account and my old discord account forever.

(Also about a month after I had left, I got texts from irl friends, and it turns out someone on the server found the contact info of people I knew in real life just to ask if I was dead or not. And that scared the shit out of me.)

I've left out a lot of details of the abuse because of amnesia. I have a mental disorder which makes it hard to remember things, plus the brain often blocks out traumatic memories, so I'm sorry if some info feels missing.

The only reason I feel like I might be an asshole is because once I was gone, all of them switched targets and started to harass T. They said they hated him for being on my side, and sent him death threats on anon because he was mad at them for killing his friend. They started treating him the same way they treated me, and called him a horrible person but refused to give a reason as to why, and if I had stayed around they would've left him alone.

@should-be-dead (made a sideblog so I get notified when this is posted)