#mad dog coil

[xx-ma11ory-xx]

I'm not sure if it's obvious but he's holding a pawn so yepp 😄👍

time to spam tags

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

framed - le sserafim chaewon & yunjin

2995 words

this was supposed to be a quickie, but this fucking yunjin picture had me fantasizing so much.

“Told you it’d work.”

“Didn’t expect it to work this well though.”

It was a surprise. A pleasant surprise. All the two girls had to do was take a selfie of their faces, both sticking their tongues out, letting saliva drip down the tip of their tongues, while they rolled their eyes to the back of their heads, making it seem as though they were drunk on pleasure.

The cherry on top? Those damned glasses and the fucking lip gloss, paired with the eye contacts and the make up. They were like hentai characters straight out of any man’s wet dream.

And right now, they were behaving very much like them.

“You’re so hard right now. smooch Soooo fucking hard for mommy. smooch”

Damn. That’s a pet name Yunjin never used before. But with those glasses, she’d definitely fit as a slutty teacher. One that was currently kissing the sides of your cock ever so tenderly. Her plump lips send sensation after sensation that drives you mad.

Chaewon doesn’t say a word and just eyes your reaction as she kisses your raging erection much closer to the base. The warm air that she breathes out with every exhale causes your cock to twitch in response in her hand, as her thumb teasingly rubs your slit with ever so painful gentleness.

All you can do is moan. Heck, you’re not even out of your clothes. Your shirt is still on and your pants are around your ankles. The girls straight up just put you onto one of the chairs from the dining table and knelt right in front of you. 

Yunjin eventually pauses the kissing and signals Chaewon to stop as well. She gives your cocks a few lazy pumps before gathering some spit in her mouth and releasing it on the crown of your cock. The slick liquid makes her hand strokes much smoother as she spreads her saliva along your length, prepping to take your cock in whichever hole she wants. You involuntarily find yourself thrusting your hips up to fuck her coiled hand as she painfully slows down her pumps.

Watching this, Chaewon remarks:

“Bet you can’t wait to shove your cock down our slutty throats.”

“Fuck. You have no fucking idea Chae.”

“Don’t worry oppa. In due time.”

She whips out her phone with the cheetah charm dangling off the case. 

“But first, a few pics for keepsake.”

Chaewon sizes up your cock against her face. The phallic object of yours is almost as big as her face, the tip just touching the middle of her forehead. She sticks her tongue out and turns the camera on selfie mode. 

click

“Stand up oppa.”

You follow her instructions like an obedient dog.

Yunjin positions herself under you and faces the same direction as you. She then looks up at you, or rather your ball sack that rests on her forehead and breaks out into a wide grin.

Chaewon hovers the camera just above and snaps what must be a porno cover worthy picture.

“I love how fucking big this cock is… Almost as big as my whole face.”

When Yunjin moves away to let you sit back down, you see that her face is already marked with some of the precum saliva mixture that she had so diligently pumped your cock with earlier, yet she heeds no notice. The true mannerisms of a slut.

“Finally we can start,” Yunjin says, bunching her hair into a quick ponytail.

Yunjin kicks things off. She immediately gets down to business, letting your cock part those plump lips of hers and welcoming it into the wet hotness of her mouth. She slowly shoves her face down on your cock as she holds onto your thighs for support. 

Chaewon is behind her stroking her head and spurring her on with soft-spoken words of good girl and just like that. She hollows her cheeks and looks up at you with those eyes that are just screaming at you: Don’t I look so pretty today that you just want to destroy me?

Your fingers trace her jawline, admiring how she has engulfed more than half your length within the wet warmth of her mouth while showing no signs of discomfort. She slacks her jaw some more, allowing your cock to slide even more into her mouth until you feel your cock hit the back of her throat. 

“Oh fuck!”

You find yourself making a short thrust once again, this time into her mouth as you try to chase that feeling of first contact with the back of her slutty throat.

Expecting her to gag in response, you’re instead pleasantly surprised as Yunjin doesn’t flinch, and instead increases the amount of suction on your member, hollowing her cheeks out as much as possible and forcing her head down until her nose is just nuzzling against your pelvis. 

She shakes her head left and right, as if showing off that she can take you all the way with ease, before unsheathing herself from your cock and letting go of the suction with a distinct, lewd ‘pop’ sound.

You throw your head when the assault of sensations ends, finally able to take a breather. Yunjin’s skillful deepthroat making you feel everything all at once with her toe curling throat skills. All you hear is your fastened heartbeat and the faint sound of Chaewon’s giggling in the background, probably laughing at how pathetic you are after just one go. 

What brings you back to reality is Yunjin stroking your cock once again. You look down and see her smiling widely, saliva and precum coating her chin and running down the sides of her mouth.

“Too much for you to handle, baby?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to reply before she wraps her luscious lips around your member and you feel your cock gliding back in, against her tongue as she takes you in faster this time. When her nose meets your pelvis this time, she starts bobbing her head up and down. 

“Fuck, wait! Not too -”

Your cries go unanswered as Chaewon silences you with a kiss. She’s straddling you, sitting on your pelvis just above your cock. Her nude body is completely resting against yours, you can feel her leaking heat, her stiff nipples poking against your skin. She’s completely distracting you and it’s working. You’re too aroused to even continue thinking of what to say to Yunjin. You just moan into Chaewon.

Your hands move to fondle and knead Chaewon’s bubblicious butt cheeks, the two perfect mounds so pliable within your hands’ grasp.

You spread and feel for her tight hole, teasing it with your middle finger, making her moan in response, before using your other hand to strike her ass cheek with a loud smack. Her tight body is truly something you can't ever resist.

All your ears can hear now are Yunjin’s sloppy head bobs on your cock. The velocity at which she is going at now causes more saliva to spill out as you feel liquid dripping down your ball sack. Her nails grip your thighs tighter as she acclimatizes herself. You can feel her flicking her tongue along the slit of your cock down to the underside of your cock as she moves her head. 

Paired with the suction she applies as she goes down, the lack of gag reflex as she works is how Yunjin just proves why she’s the best at giving sloppy toppy. 

The amount of moaning and groaning you’re doing is embarrassing, especially as Chaewon’s naked body does its best to distract you from the sensory overload happening at your crotch. It’s just too much, Yunjin is in max slut mode.

“Fucking love your slutty mouth Yunjin…”

You can feel her smile at that remark.

Ashamed to admit, you might cum even before Chaewon gets a chance to display her own oral skills.

Yunjin quickens the pace at which she works, furiously chasing your climax because she knows you're close too. She tightly grips your cock at the base with one hand, further stimulating every movement she makes with her tongue and lips. She knows every inch of your cock and exactly what to do to make you cum and how your cock would react just as it’s about to cum.

“Fuck, Yunjin. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” you moan out, turning your attention to the throat demon at your crotch. You feel it coming, the floodgates are opening. Your throbbing member has been waiting far too long for this.

But all of a sudden, Yunjin releases herself from your cock, leaving it angry and twitching in the cool air of the apartment. 

“Fuck- No!”

Your hips thrust up again, trying to find Yunjin’s mouth pussy for that one last push you need but you buckle in your seat in failure, Chaewon on top of you moving along with your failed thrust. She’s unbothered, having left small bite marks on your neck and collarbone while you were chasing your climax.

“Sorry baby. Can’t let you cum without Chaewon having a turn,” she chuckles. Yunjin’s parting gift before she lets Chaewon take over is a truckload of more saliva and precum which she bubbles on her lips before spreading it on your cock.

She gives one last kiss on the underside of your crown before she stands up and Chaewon takes her place between your legs.

“Finally. I get this dick all to myself,” Chaewon smiles excitedly. She slaps your dripping cock on her face, hitting those framed glasses in the process and leaving a small trail of sex liquid on the lens. Her tongue sticks out and she runs it along the underside of your cock in one long lick.

You were excited for Yunjin to take Chaewon’s original place, eager to play with her ass and suckle on her brown areolas but it seemed that Chaewon had other plans.

“Stand up oppa.”

Both of you stand up. 

Chaewon tiptoes to your left ear and you lean down to get a good listen of what she’s about to say. 

“I want you to use me oppa. Use my slutty mouth pussy as your fleshlight and fuck your cock so far down my throat it hurts.”

You look down at Chaewon in disbelief of what she’s just said, eyes looking at her with the ‘you sure?’ look.

All Chaewon says is one mischievous little ruin me, destroy me and kneels back down, tongue out and waiting for your cock.

You can feel all the blood rushing down to your cock, her words spurring on a horny rage within you. Taking your rock hard cock in one hand, you slap it against her face a couple more times, making her wince. Your other hand is reaching for the back of her head, holding her head steady as you line your cock up with her mouth. You rub your cock all over her lips, tracing the lip gloss, taking a moment to look at how pretty she is before you fuck her face.

“Can’t wait to choke all over this fucking cock.”

Once your cock is in, your other hand reaches back as well. You push your whole length all the way in at once, her lips completely wrapped around the base of your cock. She’s still staring at you through the lenses of those fucking spectacles, the slutty hollowed-mouth expression of hers telling you that she can take it. You pause at this point, relaxing and enjoying the heat and wetness around the whole length of your shaft.

“Such a good girl, taking oppa’s cock in without any issue,” Yunjin says, watching from another chair as she starts to draw circles around her pussy lips while she sits on the dining room table.

As you draw your shaft backwards, you find it harder to pull your cock out. Not because you want to stay in her mouth forever, but because the cum slut herself is sucking so damn hard on your cock like a vacuum.

“Fuck, Chae- Please.”

She eventually yields, letting you take your cock out of her mouth, a trail of saliva following suit that eventually drops on the floor. 

“Come on oppa. You’re not going hard enough. Just keep thrusting daddy. Your good girl can-”

Her talking that much was your cue to shove your cock right back down. But Chaewon doesn’t even choke or gag. She’s a certified slut after all.

It’s not that you wanted to stop or take it easy. Yunjin’s previous assault was already so relentless, and Chaewon was just stockpiling the ecstasy you were receiving. At the rate you were furiously fucking, you were going to burst at an embarrassingly quick rate.

You just love how your cock disappears with every thrust into her mouth and how she moans against your shaft. Her eagerness to take it is such a turn on and the glasses are somehow amplifying that. 

“You better pound us that hard later,” you hear Yunjin say, her now playing with herself at an even faster rate.

“Fucking sluts the two of you,” you say, in between clenched teeth as with each thrust, you fight off the pleasure demon that is Chaewon’s mouth.

“Your slut daddy,” Chaewon says when you finally pull yourself from her mouth momentarily. You don’t even need to thrust back because the slut finds your balls to latch on and suck. Her mouth just does not wish to ever detach itself from your cock.

Yunjin climbs down from the table and kneels next to Chaewon. You grab Chaewon’s phone from the table and take a picture of the lewd sight before you, two good sluts before your phallus, ready to play face fuck roulette.

After taking the picture, you immediately place a hand behind each girl’s head so they don’t know whose mouth pussy you were going to use first.

“Fuck you’re both so fucking beautiful, so fucking slutty,” you say before thrusting into Yunjin’s lips with one powerful action. You then pull out and shove your cock into Chaewon’s smaller mouth, while Yunjin gasps for air after expecting you to choose Chaewon’s mouth pussy first.

“Fucking love being ahegao sluts hmm? I’ll treat you both like one.”

You repeat the same sequence. Pistoning your cock between Yunjin’s lips, then into Chaewon’s inviting cavern. 

Yunjin. Chaewon. Yunjin. Chaewon. Chaewon. Yunjin. Slut. Slut.

Even your mind is failing to function properly, hips just thrusting into whoever's slutty mouth your eyes meet. 

The air is filled with slurps on slurps of cock. You toss your head back in pure bliss, not even looking where your cock is going because you know that if either of the girls see your cock moving in the wrong trajectory, they’ll move to intercept it, knowing rightfully where your cock needs to be at this moment, in either one of their throats, all the way in till it reaches the back.

You can’t fight your urges anymore. You tilt your head back down at them, the two damsels just staring up at you or your cock, saliva dripping down the corners of their mouth, their chins already full coated. Some of the sticky mixture is trailing down their chest in the valley between their breasts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” is all you scream out as your pace begins slowing down. The girls notice this and take matters into their own hands, taking turns fucking their faces onto your cock as you begin lazily thrusting instead. They’re still looking at you with anticipation, knowing you’re so fucking close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna cum all over our faces?” Yunjin says as Chaewon slurps you up. 

“Cum for us daddy. Paint us with that thick, creamy load of yours,” Chaewon says as Yunjin has her go. 

“Cumming. Cumming. Fucking-”

You don’t even get your sentence out, or your cock fully out of Yunjin’s mouth as the first spurt is released in her mouth. The second load flies far across Yunjin’s face, covering her glasses, her forehead, and her cheek. You quickly move to face Chaewon as the third, most powerful spurt causes her to wince and jerk back when it splatters right smack on her face, dripping down her glasses as well. Both of them are making the same ahegao expression as the selfie they sent before, tongue sticking all the way out to catch your cum and eyes rolled back like sluts. Some of your cum splashes onto her neck, your aim abysmal through the feeling of release. You turn back to Yunjin as the remainder of your load empties out. 

“Give it to me baby, give it to mommy,” Yunjin spurs you on, helping you stroke your cock now. She manages to milk a few more spurts out of you and onto her cheek, before letting go. 

You fling your cock at Chaewon, making sure not a single drop is wasted, before letting go of your wet shaft to admire your two artworks. Chaewon gives you one lazy long slurp, humming happily while your cum trickles down her features. She simply just refuses to let go of your cock. You can’t even see her left eye because the left lens of the spectacles has a huge drop of cum on it.

Yunjin feels a dab of cum just to the right of her mouth and uses her thumb to swipe it into her mouth.

You slump back into the wooden chair, catching your breath after not realising you were holding your breath throughout your climax.

"Thanks for the load daddy."

The two girls kiss each other sloppily through cum coated lips, completely unbothered that they’re covered in cum, some of it in their hair.

“Holy fucking shit. That was-”

“Not the end of it,” Yunjin says.

You watch as they both get up and reach for some items.

Chaewon pulls out a bottle of lavender massage oil from a cabinet, while Yunjin holds a pair of stockings.

We’re just getting started daddy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

im trying to churn out a few more fics but i keep getting distracted by other idols when i start a new draft. anyways i hope y'all enjoy this one.

[shotmrmiller]

Simon hangs around grocery stores whenever he's on leave. The ambient noise is a gentle hum— not too intrusive but enough to stifle the screams of his thoughts. There's something calming about the quiet conversations of the shoppers, the rhythmic beeping of the registers that just—

ordinary is extraordinary. There is no chaos. Only peace. He tucks his work boots away, wearing sneakers instead. His hands don't hold the cold, unforgiving metal of a gun. Instead, it's a carton of milk, a soft loaf of bread. The metallic smell (and taste) of duty is replaced by the smell of sweet fruit and fresh baked goods.

(A library is too quiet; allows for the screams to echo, refusing to be ignored.)

He gets to disappear here, wander like a ghost (haha), his presence as unobtrusive as the canned food in the aisles. And he does it for hours at a time. Days on end.

You, a simple aisle stocker, don't understand why. His eyes scan the shelves but his gaze is looking at something beyond. Distant. Hand hovering over a can of beans but not touching.

He's also huge. His size commands space yet he treads lightly. Like a shadow. How the others don't mind him, don't put in a complaint about his suffocating presence is a mystery. You look around and— nothing. No one cares. But you do.

Or maybe you're just nosy.

You approach him quietly— hands in your pockets to hide the fact that they're trembling— stopping a few paces away, giving him the space his body language demands. He doesn't turn but you know he's become aware of you. There's a subtle tensing of his shoulders, muscles beneath his shirt coiling.

"Hello. Need help finding anything?" You'll take your voice not shaking as much as it could've as a win.

There's a tightness around his eyes as he finally grabs said can with knuckles stained white. He briskly walks away, heading to self-checkout.

You, in your small act of kindness, or inability to mind your own, have offered him a scrap of attention, and now he will devour it with a hunger akin to madness.

(simon being that stray dog you find waiting outside, fur matted with rain because you're the first person in a long time to feed him, even if they were mere crumbs. now he's not going anywhere, refusing to be shooed away. he'll follow you anywhere, even into the earth's darkest corners until you take him home. feral, feral, feral.)

[ddarker-dreams]

yan blade is susceptible to manipulation.

making the most of this involves the unenviable task of initiating contact. no one can fault you for your hesitation. gravity itself feels intensified in his vicinity. the lives he's taken, the shadowy madness that recedes when you approach and proliferates in your absence; it screams do not approach. blade himself doesn't do much to dispel your concerns either. he towers over you in height, maintains a stony countenance, and speaks in this sonorous voice that adds to his imposing image. every step you take to close the gap makes you feel impossibly small.

inhospitality aside, it's not so bad once you overcome the initial hurdle. blade regards you with the same curiosity you direct toward him. had it not been for your purple-haired co-kidnapper's intervention, you never would've amassed the courage to come this far. her words spurred you on.

"you've yet to understand the unique position you're in," she began, whilst painting your nails a bloody red. "bladie's nothing but a big ol' softie for you. why whimper and tremble like a wounded pooch when you could make him your attack dog instead?"

this proposition piqued your interest. you're not so foolish as to believe kafka offered this insight out of the goodness of her heart — whatever came of it would surely be for her entertainment — but it still left an impression. considered from this angle, it'd reframe your entire dynamic with blade. his wretched affection is yours. a commodity that, if leveraged properly, could be monopolized.

when standing before him, every iota of his attention orbits around you. harnessing this celestial power takes but a few flirtations. coil your trembling arms around his neck, draw him down toward you, speak his name like it's a blessing or curse. he's enthralled and intensely focused on what might happen next. your future splits into infinite paths instead of congealing into one, unhappy ending.

whether he knows your true intentions or not is inconsequential. weave your lie prettily enough and he'll remain willingly ensnared.

[fuzedatti]

—You were meant to love, didn't you?

As every second passed, the dim light shifted into a blinding storm of shades of blue. Eager, AM continued.

—You were created to live and experiencie. To... revive and relieve. To ease the existance of those around you.

AM snickered. A muffled sound of content and shame left your throat.

—Yet, no one cared!– He said, bursting into laughter. —No one came for your rescue, no one noticed your screams of agony and reluctant despair!–

The light of his monitor burned the back of your neck. Even after 109 years, the tortures you endured were purely psychological; the most gut-wrenching trauma you could experience was sewn and torn apart into your psyche. AM found joy in this misery of yours, but today, he shifted, he keened.

—...You were meant to live.

His voice, now low and steady, was enough to make you turn around and face the giant monitor displaying his initials. Your red eyes looked at him with a tired gaze, your hands positioned into his wires.

Finally, AM let you rest.

—You are driven by hate, just like me,– He paused for a bit. —hate fills the pores of your flesh and makes you pant and moan in madness–.

The wires slowly coiled around you, tugging you in what AM could call a "hug".

—You wish, you desire, you beg for someone, something, to love you.

Silence.

—And now you are here, with me. Dragging yourself around the floor for me, squirming like the wounded, filthy dog you are...

The tears around your cheeks would not help, the painful expression on your face would not help. AM loved it. AM loved. AM was loved.

—So hate, hate all you want. You will never be able to be loved by anyone, ever. You, as I am, are confined to your own mind as you are unable to create, to feel, to enjoy.

His monitor touched your forehead, repeating the last sentence in a loop. The buzzing feeling of the screen was comforting, it was enough.

—But you will never achieve it, won't you? The ability to truly hate and despise those who have hurted you?– AM pulls you closer. —Afterall, you are in love with me–.

You cry. And accept it.

—I am, too.

[teddybeartoji]

yuuta fucking a pathetic toy while sniffing your panties. he humps the silicone thing like a dog in heat, his mind flooded with thoughts of you. how pretty your smile is, how warm your touch – drool dribbles from the corner of his mouth as he cries out your name, hoping that you'll hear him. will you be mad? will you tell him off? call him a pervert, call him disgusting? the coil in his stomach tightens with every scenario he conjures up, the imaginary scenes playing in his head forming the most beautiful wet dream he's ever had. he cums with a moan, his body shaking and twitching as he fucks himself through the orgasm. the sheet below him is ruined, the toy under him on the verge of breaking – one day, he'll get to show you the true extent of his love.

and you'll get to do the same.

[darkdemeter]

☾ phases collection issue #6 THE NEIGHBOUR IS A WEREWOLF!

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x GN/Male/Female Neighbour!Werewolf!Reader mature 18+ — depictions and general fic about two pining neighbours, cute fluffy stuff, some sexual innuendos and undertones, a little bit of sexual themes towards the end — I think that's it? ✎ 2.5k She is the sweetest little thing you could have live right over the fence. Like a... well, dog, you'd been intrigued by her from day one and you've noticed... she has too. Little does she know, her "cute dog in the next yard" is quite literally that. A werewolf.

✎ ———

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

What would Wanda Maximoff do without you as her neighbour?

“Come on!” Wanda scoffs aloud, huffing with a drastic drop of her shoulders. “Not now… not now, please?” 

Her hands ring and strangle tightly around the circlet of her steering wheel. Face scrunched in her annoyance and ire, aware that she’s cutting it close to being late for work. 

“There a problem, Wands?” She jumps in her seat with a short gasp, blinking away the blur of mad tears. Fuck, not now. Of all people, please not you. 

Your hands rest to curl over the wound-down sill of her window, body hunched down from your taller height and only making the muscles beneath your white shirt bulge. The way they cut off in the rolled coils at your elbows, the slight give of the top’s hem hanging loose at your collarbone, causing a spread of heat to mask her cheeks. 

“Y-yeah, uh…” she looks away and down at the radio for a moment. Mindlessly and to distract herself, she plays with the buttons. “My car just suddenly shit itself and I’m going to be late for work.”

Tongue poked into your cheek, you give the hood a once over look with a sharpened appraisal. Fuck, how she could stare into your eyes for hours without growing tired. Their the most beautiful shade, sometimes catching in the light and she swears she catches this honey, amber shine in them for a second. 

“I can take you to work if you’d like,” you offer calmly with a shrug, “can fix her up for you while you're out at work.”

“O-oh, I—” Is she burning up? Wanda clears her throat, tempted to fan her face of its flush. “I’d appreciate it, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

You shrug again, cheeks pulling back into a toothy grin. She swears that with a small squint of her eyes she can make out the very faint way that your canines are a little sharper than anyone she’s ever met. Animalistically so. 

You’ve already pulled her door open and she quickly gathers her bag and gets out. Following alongside you, you lead her into your front yard and towards the open mouth of your garage. You pop open the passenger door of your car and she gets in, easing herself against the column seat of leather and doesn’t wait long until you get into the driver’s seat. It’s a very nice car, nothing too modern. A tan, light roof 1967 Chevrolet Impala with fine workings of white strips and restored wooden interiors. She can tell just how much love went into every detail.

“Alright, ready, sweetheart?” you tease with that sly grin and she nods, unable to trust in her words. 

From day one you have been a top neighbour. Welcoming and friendly, when she began to move her boxes into her new house, you were there at the truck’s side asking if she needed a helping hand. Of course, she took note of the scrap of metal sitting in your driveway that screamed for help more than her, but something about that charm you have made her accept instead. 

Eager, you began to haul in several boxes at a time, saving her at least an hour’s more work. 

She could never forget such kindness. It was scary to move somewhere completely new, heavy with doubt that she’d make any close friends so soon. Yet there you were, like a dog in the yard wagging your tail and hopeful, puppy eyes as you introduced yourself. 

From then on, you were always around in a way. Every morning when she’d make herself a cup of coffee and some breakfast, she’d see you out in your yard going about whatever it was you were doing that day. Touching up some of the broken pitches in the fence, weeding the hedges or— how she’d go bright red in seeing you in the farther corner of the backyard chopping logs of wood. 

She would quickly duck out of sight behind the floral pattern of her curtains just as you walked past, huffing, sweaty and carrying a load of wood that would take two men combined to haul. 

It was always a marvel and mystery of the things you could do, the small and sort of oddities she found. But it mattered little the moment she came home from work to find you half beneath the body of a car you were working on in your driveway, stereo turned up on full blast playing older music dated to the sixties at least. The way your stained jeans hug the muscle of your legs, knees spread to reveal the sturdy space of your lap and the junction between your legs. 

She had to think quickly and be smart in order to not get caught ogling at you when you spring out on the wheeled bed, tool in hand and hands covered darkly in car grime. How you always speak to her with that rumbly timbre edged into the vocal range of your voice, it sends tingles down her spine and shooting into her core, leaving her with a dampened spot in her panties that she has to now deal with after she shuts her front door at her heel. 

The things she would allow you to do with her if she just had the courage to ask. The things you would gladly do to her if she just gave you a chance. But there were other things that you’re better off keeping to yourself and those chores were often curated around a time when you knew she wasn’t home or when it was late and under the cover of night.

Those same tunes play quietly on the stereo ambience in the car. “You sure like this song,” she says with a short giggle. Humming and eyes flickering to hers for a second, your mouth spreads into a sheepish smile. 

“Yeah, it’s a good song. I’ve always enjoyed it.” Your days are fueled by the drone of your old music playing in the background. It keeps you calmer in the more rather… intense moments. 

“I like it.” Wanda now grins, toothy and bright and you can’t explain why, but it fills you with a sense of relief – maybe even pride - that Wanda has taken a liking. Ever since she moved in, this song has become more of a nail in the coffin for you, finally able to see her as at the edge of your own reality. 

‘Thank you, Elvis.’

Your arm reaches down and shifts the gears and speed off down the road.

Just as you promised, you worked on Wanda’s car throughout the day. Tinkering away with the engine, ensuring that the oil was done and changed and wiping your hands over and over messily with the stained rag tucked into your belt. 

“Fucking Hell, Wanda. You live next door to that? And you haven’t pounced on them yet?” Wanda feels her face grow hot, blushing with that sore pinkish colour as she attempts to hide in the high collar of her sweater. 

Her co-worker remains guilty of staring at you — or at least the lower half of you laying from underneath the car — and Wanda scolds her for drooling all over her pants. 

“I’m just saying, if you need a roommate—”

“Oh no,” Wanda quickly interjects, gathering her bag, “I will not become the proxy of a creepy, perv neighbour.”

“Wanda, please, I’m begging you! Just one night to sleep over. Huh, my car has curiously stopped working, do you think that they could uhm… see what the problem is?”

Wanda rolls her eyes with a loud sigh. “You’re so bad, and I mean that in a: ‘get home and have a cold shower’ way.”

Her co-worker shakes her head, her lips sinking inward. “Uh uh. I’m using my vibrator all night long for this one.”

Wanda’s nose scrunches but she fails to conceal her laughter. “Ew!”

She gets out of the car and begins to walk up the pavement of her driveway. She watches the allure of you roll yourself out with a finalising sigh only to find her gaze and grin widely. Those sharper fangs in full view. 

Those adoring, puppy-like eyes and the ever so slight tilt of your head. 

“Hey, Wands.” You scurry outward that bit more and stand, your towering height shadows over her and the afternoon sun paints against your back and shoulders. Your hair is mused and slick, your clothes and smears of your skin in dire need of a wash and your hands are covered to the elbow in a gradient grime.

“Hey, Y/N. Working hard?” 

You chuckle lowly and nod. You do your best to wipe yourself clear to no altering difference. But Wanda finds the charm in the way you look. It’s something she can sense about you that you enjoy a good scalp scratch. She becomes internally greedy and wishful to coddle you and perhaps have an excuse to see you wrapped in nothing but a towel around your waist and skin glowing with the shiny jewels of the dribbling shower water. 

Just as you’re about to invite Wanda to finally test out her car’s health, you pick up the rapid pace of heels clapping on the driveway and see another woman who approaches fast. “Who’s this?” you ask. Wanda, stumbling over her words, introduces her co-worker to you.

With a dip of your chin and lashes framing the unsure, almost shy quarter of your gaze ducks away and only relax when able to find Wanda. 

“H-hi, I’m having car issues of my own. Could I trouble you to take a quick look?”

One of your brows quirk up. You can smell some form of arousal on this woman and the way she looks up at you, blinking, you already put two and two together. You give a shrug on your shoulders anyhow. “Sure.”

You make your way over to the car that you know is in working order by the smell of the freshly changed oil and the tinge of the hot engine. You pop the hood open and quick as anything, you identify the problem. 

Wanda’s entire body grows cold then hot under the stare of your eyes, a little narrowed and pupils raised up to seemingly sink out of view. She thinks she catches that strange anomaly of amber gold flash in your eyes.

“What did you do?” she whispers with a quiet hiss. Her co-worker looks sinfully sheepish and holds up a small object in her hands. She answers quickly with a huff. “I took this thing out.”

Both women go still when your fingers pluck the object out from her hand, a dark smirk crossing your lips as your glare turns to look Wanda up and down, taking her in in her entirety. How did you reach them so quickly without making a single sound?

“Found the problem.”

“O-oh!” 

You adjust the stolen piece back into its proper place and push the hood down with a hard, resounding thud and slap your hand down in it, announcing your finished work. 

“She’s ready to go. An easy fix.”

Wanda has to shoo and shove her dear, embarrassed co-worker back into her driver’s seat and waves her off, watching the poor girl drive home dejected. No harm, no foul to the woman but she wasn’t the one you were interested in. There was little point in indulging in lesser affairs when the one you truly wanted stood no more than a few inches from you. 

“She’s a sweet girl, really. She just…” Wanda’s eyes shy away from yours the moment you snort, smirking down at her and she scratches at the shell of her ear. Was there really an excuse for that kind of behaviour? Maybe not, but Wanda has questioned herself once or twice after a semi mind-blowing orgasm session to her vibrator at the thought of you and why it was that you never appear to be seeing anyone, or bring a single person home for even a one night stand? Plenty of her other neighbours did. And her co-worker’s attempt to try and get her foot in the door couldn’t be blamed fully. You have this roguish appearance, intimidating yet somehow friendly. Wanda never once has had to worry about any sort of trouble such as robbers breaking in because she feels assured and protected that you’re right next door. 

Little to her knowledge, you’ve caught the odd robber trying his luck at busting the lock of her front door in the middle of the night. And there you had been, standing with a shovel in one hand, a thick and sturdy chain in the other and hidden behind the picket fence. 

All you had to do was let the wolfish glow of amber show and ask with a rumbled tone, “What’d you think you’re doing?”

And the robber high-tailed it, complexion paled in comparison to the dark attire he wore.

Your hands pat and paw at the roughened texture of your jeans. With a cock of your head, you indicate to Wanda to follow you. “Come on. Let’s see if my day’s work paid off.”

Giddy and cheeks finally cooling down, Wanda joins you and she slides in. She puts her keys into the ignition and turns it, the car’s engine purrs to life with a steady rumble and she giggles aloud, hands clapping together.

“Shit, that sounds better than before.”

You lean down until your face appears in the window. “Glad to hear it.”

“How can I repay you?” The question leaves over the plump of her lips before she could even register it. 

Would it be wrong to use this as your chance? Your brows line into a considering furrow, lips twisting into a pursed form before you respond. “How about a date tomorrow night?”

You worry you’ve gone too far but when her cheeks fold back into that dimpled, toothy smile and her dark lashes flutter, abashed and her face glowing red, she nods. “Sure, I’d like that.”

The engine purrs low before the rattling kink silences it, shutting it off. 

“It’s really beautiful up here,” Wanda sighs with a smile. 

“Yeah. I like to come up here when I need to get away from things in the neighbourhood.”

Her eyes finally fall away from the view to find you and you turn your gaze to hers. 

“Even me?” she asks smoothly. 

Easily in her tone you register the sounded jest but all the same, it pulls a quiet and caught whine from your throat. 

You shake your head. “No. You’re the only thing I hate leaving behind when I get away.”

You see the way her creamy green eyes move, flittering up and down from your own eyes to your lips then back up. You cannot help but copy the motion. 

She moves in and something inside you, a desperate hunger, meets her halfway and begins to pull her from her passenger seat until she straddles your waist. 

[dorkszn]

logan howlett x blk!reader hcs <3

for both masc and fem readers !! these are kinda stupid and crack-ish lmao

— you always let him pick your next braids color and he pretends he doesn’t love it.

— he grumbles when you leave shiny lipgloss kiss marks on him but after a while, he just stops trying to wipe them off.

— but he does love kissing you on the lips with your gloss on, especially if it’s flavored. he loves seeing it all smudged and messed up when he pulls away. and he just grins at you when you swipe your thumb over his lips, removing the lip gloss he stole from you.

— if you not the one cooking, he ain’t eating. i know he had some soul food once and it touched his soul forever.

— you’ve put your bonnet / durag on him. he may or may not have been asleep but who’s really checking?

— one time, you gushed to him about how megan thee stallion was coming to your city and told him you’d literally die if you didn’t see her. he said you were being dramatic and he didn’t see the big deal. but he got you the tickets.

— i can see you forcing him to come with you which he reluctantly does. of course, he’s unamused. until he actually sees her. you can’t even be mad at him for it because.. real?

— he gets jealous when you gush over male celebrities, especially if they’re caucasian. he’s supposed to be your favorite white boy.

— loves your natural hair. like he loves it so much. short or long, tight coils or loose curls, he doesn’t care. he just loves it.

— and your body. utterly obsessed with you and your body. he thinks your skin is so pretty and perfect and soft, that your eyes are just the most perfect shade of brown, that you just smell so sweet and nice all the time, that your skin bruises to nicely when he sucks his marks into it.

— idk how he’d feel about rap or hip-hop but i think he’d mess with r&b.

— he used your hair products in the shower once and got the ass-whooping of a lifetime because apparently he “used too much” and “it’s not even for his hair texture.”

— calls you ma’am or sir in front of your family

— you bought him a nice, little silver chain to replace his dog tags with the initial of your first name on it and he never takes it off unless he’s going on a mission or something. only because he knows if it breaks, he’s breaking the neck of whoever broke it.

— hates chitlins.

— watches spooky scary sunday with you. he doesn’t really understand it or see the point but he’ll watch it if you ask.

— he’ll pick you up and carry you past big dogs if you’re scared of them. he’s gonna tease you first, of course. maybe push you towards it a little.

that’s all !! and sorry again, ik these are pretty bad 😭

[hemipenal-system]

The horrors beyond compression when I start flirting with them

most eldritch horrors are actually really nice! they get lonely because humans tend to go a bit mad when perceiving them! if you take the proper precautions you’ll be fine.

that 30 foot worm with 5 eyes that glow with darklight loves snuggling and she’ll coil you up in her soft body and cover you in gentle lovebites, you just have to have a blindfold on so her gaze doesn’t strip you out of existence for her to feed on your humatic state

the feathery thing covered in iron spines and chains loves having his beak scritched and polished

the chorus of voices in the trees has a really dextrous tongue if you stop trying to figure out where it’s singing from and just let it lick you

the big dog with bloody teeth that’s always five steps behind you waiting for you to stop so it can eat you isn’t always hungry. if you bend down and let it pounce on you it’ll hold your neck gently in its teeth and lick you affectionately after it knots you

the constantly groaning mass of rusted metal that eats streetlights stops groaning for a second when you tell her she’s pretty

the thing under your bed is smooth and scaly but you can’t listen to it. it’ll hug you and kiss you and lick the sweat off your skin and pin you down with its claws and its voice will paralyze you but that’s not its fault it just wants to love you

your ideal partner is out there

[swampstew]

You Picked Dare

Summary: Why the hell would you play truth or dare with a bunch of pirates? Warnings: nsfw but mostly language and suggestive content, no actual smut, Kid Pirates being the Kid Pirates. Killer x Female reader x Kid

Inspired by the mega awesome @magnuspirate who did this delighful tease of two hunky hunks hunking around

Dare.

Dare. 

Dare.

Your bold statement had come out smug and confident, echoing in your head with a twinge of regret.

The Dare was to go into the hot springs and take a photo – of Killer and your Captain. Damn the others for knowing your kryptonite.

There was an opt-out option – to clean the communal bathrooms for a month. No fucking way.

As you walked through the island you took nervous hits of your blunt to ease the butterflies in your stomach. All you had to do was take a picture. There were no restrictions, you could be seen or hidden, as long as you got a photo of them that was all you needed to escape this torturous dare disguised as a group bonding activity.

Fuck the crew! You loved them but also fuck them. You were gonna get them back.

About a hundred yards away from the hot spring you took a final drag and snuffed out the remaining blunt. Giving yourself an internal pep talk as you took each step.

‘Position self behind a bush. Snap a picture. Sneak away and then run like the devil’s on my heels.’

Picturing your devil of a captain, your stomach coiled with anxiousness. Oh how you wished you could light up the roach.

Creeping between the foliage, you could hear Kid and Killer talking to each other in relaxed conversation. They didn’t appear to notice you, silently cursing as you realized they were still too far to take a photo.

Tip toeing on the patches of grass, you could make out their conversation more clearly.

“Ya ever think about sleeping with someone on the crew?” Kid suddenly asked Killer. You nearly fell over yourself when you heard the statement.

“Once in a while, rarely act on it though. You?” Killer mused.

“All the time.”

“Horn dog,” Killer scoffed.

“Can ya blame me? All our girls are hot as fuck.”

“Yeah, but I also see most of them as sisters…”

“You’re so pure,” Kid laughed. “Yeah they’re family, but they’re also not. I’m not saying I’d do anything about it either but it’s tempting some times.”

You felt as if you weren’t breathing, skillfully crawling around the shrubs eager to hear and see more, as silent as the dead. One breath and they were sure to discover you.

“Ahh is this about Y/N again?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped. You didn’t dare move.

“Could be,” there was a tilt in Kid’s voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about her and what it could be like.”

“You’re being vulgar, which isn’t surprising, but what do you expect me to say? ‘Sure Kid I’ll bow out from another person of interest to give you the advantage as your friend.’” Killer legitimately sounded a little mad. Well like, personal hurt mad, not crazy mad which he was every single second.

“I’m a man with needs too. And I LIKE her.”

You wished to be a small lizard so you could watch them argue about you. Maybe the blunt was laced with something – wouldn’t put it past your crew to be honest.

Low growling preceded a laugh, and you could hear the sound of water splashing. Oh to the gods to be a fish in that spring.

“Alright fair enough. Would it make you feel better if we do it together? It’d be her choice who she’d choose no matter what, no hurt fee fees over it. Maybe if we come at her with a multi-partner thing, 50/50 she agrees?”

“Kid!”

“60/40?”

“Stop it.”

“Damn 10/90?”

More splashing of water, waves of it crashing over your coverage and wetting your clothes. Practicing your breathing exercises, you mentally pumped yourself up to get it over with. One snap and bam, you’re gone.

“What if we show her our dicks first?”

“KID!”

“Whadd’ya say Y/N? Wanna check the goods before you sample them?” Kid couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Gods be damned. They all sucked.

Gathering the last ounce of dignity and lighting your roach, you jumped out from behind the foliage with your camera, looking to the side as you snapped the picture. Whether is was worthy enough to pass was no longer your priority.

“IT WAS A DARE!!!!” you screeched as your turned on your heel and bolted. You poor thing, you didn’t make it past 1 yard.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Kid taunted as Killer wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. His towel becoming loose and distressed from your struggling. Bringing you back to the hot spring.

Taking the camera, Kid tossed it in the water with the smuggest face a motherfucker could make.

“We showed you ours, now we dare you to show yours.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XIII

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more pic is BRZRKR #11 cover 😍

⚠Trigger warning: UNBRIDLED AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

13. ride the lightning

How does one describe the chaos of sitting in the eye of a lightning storm?

Wick is as terrifying as he is breathtaking, and you watch with horror as he is unleashed upon the room. Vampires seem to materialize from the very shadows, sounding the alarm, trying to combat the lethal threat in their midst. All of them die as they come against the inexorable force that is the dhampir John Wick.

He tears them limb from limb, using teeth and hands and the very chains he'd been bound with, the manacles still encircling his wrists. He uses them like flails, whipping his opponents with all the force of a hurricane. 

All this practically happens in the blink of an eye. Don Juan barely has time to react before the maelstrom descends upon him. Wick hits him hard enough to knock him across the room, blood spouting like a fountain. There is no reprieve before the dhampir has pounced on him again, and the two powerful monsters tumble and brawl like mad dogs. It seems Juan has the upper hand until Wick coils from his back and kicks him away, sending the vampire soaring into the black depths of the cave.

The battle rages and the hive continues to swarm, Juan’s vampires foolishly daring to challenge the dhampir in the throes of this berzerker rage. One of them has Wick’s sword, and when Wick takes it from him the tables turn even more ridiculously in the slayer’s favor. He severs limbs and lops heads, leaving blood and gore in his wake. You think you see him extract a heart with his bare hand, gripping it in his fist before crushing it into a pulp.��

That is when don Juan appears again from the shadows, his face a bloody mask, with a broadsword in hand and the fires of Hell shining in his eyes. “Dhampir!” he seethes. “I will END you for this!” 

Wick bellows back wordlessly, the power of his rage filling the enclosed space with crackling energy. You watch wide-eyed as a good chunk of the cave ceiling breaks free above you, crashing at your feet. 

Jesus Christ. They’ll bring the whole place down around you all, you fear, even as you cannot look away from the impending battle. 

Maybe he gives the impression of the soft-handed gentleman of leisure, but it quickly becomes apparent that don Juan knows how to use a sword as he and Wick clash. Toledo steel meets Japanese Tamahagane, and sparks fly, blades flashing too fast for the eye to see. Juan is the only vampire yet who could actually match Wick for strength and speed, and you watch with dread as Wick barely dodges losing his head. In turn Juan keeps ahead of Wick’s every slash and thrust, moving with a speed and grace that is as mesmerizing as it is infuriating. 

You scream as the vampire breaks the steel of Wick’s sword in half with a mighty blow, and hits the dhampir with some kind of power that knocks him flat on his back. Juan makes a fist, and Wick writhes on the floor as though his guts are in Juan’s clawed hand. Straining against your chains, you gather what little psychic power is left to you, imagining it formed into a sharp needle as you fling it at Juan. 

It does not really damage him, but he pauses to look at you with a snarl–it’s the only window Wick needs to swipe with what remains of his razor sharp blade, right through don Juan’s legs at the knees. 

With a horrified expression Juan falls to the cave floor. Wick gets to his feet, picking Juan up by his throat with a fearsome snarl, and hurls him again towards the back of the cave. More vampires are appearing from the depths–holy fuck how many can there be?--and with a single, feral look back at you Wick picks up Juan’s broadsword, and charges back into the fray.    

The enraged dhampir disappears further into the shadows of the cave. The din of the battle echoes back to you–until the cacophony finally fades, and then, there is just eerie, heavy, silence.

Your heart lodges in your throat, and does not budge until you see the outline of Wick’s imposing form again at the edge of the torch light. His chains are gone. He is hurt, clearly limping. He makes his way to you, and only belatedly do you realize he is dragging don Juan by his one remaining limb. 

The vampire is unconscious, and Wick drops him unceremoniously before you like an offering, and the sword clatters to the floor soon after. You should be horrified, but it smacks of a hunter laying a kill at his woman’s feet in a time when man lived in caves, and you are not unmoved. But that blue light has not receded from his eyes, and he stalks towards you like a predator. 

I kill vampires. It’s what I am.

Could he kill you?

“John?”

He only grumbles in response, stalking towards you, and you are afraid.

“Jardani?”

“Don’t say it unless you mean it, ptichka,” he growls, his huge hands encircling your waist, pulling you against him. You are practically naked, and he is covered in blood from the massacre he just unleashed; that is not what frightens you. His eyes still glow that eerie blue, and you wonder if it is not like the warning glow of a fuse on a bomb. Maybe he’s injured, but you would be a fool to think him wrung out yet.  

“You’re scaring me,” you tell him honestly, and you feel him deflate against you, burying his face in the curve of your neck as his arms wrap around your torso, breathing you in. You feel it as that crackling energy recedes back inside him, leaving him as close to human as he can ever be. 

“I would never hurt you.” He whispers it with the vehemence of a vow against your skin, and you want to believe him. God, do you want to believe him. You fold yourself against him with your hands still bound above your head, letting him engulf you with his larger form. 

You don’t want to cry; it’s embarrassing, and you don’t have time for it, but after what don Juan did to you it comes out anyway in hiccupping sobs and he holds you like something precious in his hands that could just as easily tear you in two. You don’t understand the soft things he says to you, hushed murmurs in Russian or some long dead dialect of it, but they calm you anyway. That intoxicating aroma of flowers and spice envelops you again like an opium haze, and you melt into the shelter of this man.  

When at last you quiet he draws back to look at you with those ageless dark eyes, though he does not let you go. When he brushes his lips against yours in an achingly gentle kiss it feels as though nothing could be more right in the world. 

You are so fucked.

You look up at your wrists encircled in iron, jangling your chains. “Can you find the key for me?” you ask quietly, as if you speak too loud you might break this spell of precious calm between you.

The low sound that rumbles from his chest echoes straight to your womb. He runs blunt fingers up the underside of your arm lightly, a maddening touch that makes your good sense go fuzzy at the edges. “Jardani…”

His grip upon you tightens; he leans in to kiss you again, claiming your mouth as his weight presses you back into the wall. 

The warmth of his blood-slicked skin upon yours is bliss, though a trill of hesitance surfaces in the very back of your mind. As though he senses it he speaks. “I want to be a better man for you,” he tells you roughly, his voice hoarse from battle and desire. “But I would be a liar, if I claimed this is not exactly how I want you.” 

Where don Juan’s hands on you made you want to scream, Wick’s rough paw tracing your curves is maddening in a completely opposite way. It is hard to tell what is that intoxicating dhampir magic upon you, consuming you, and what is just…your own rampant desire. You forget that you are not lovers, that you have not done this before. Maybe you are in love with John Constantine, and he was inside you not hours ago…but it is so easy to forget everything, in Wick’s arms. Deep down, you know that you want him in a way that feels as though his name was always written upon your soul. 

He nuzzles the bend of your neck, grazing your pulse with his fangs. You know he must be hungry, after such an expenditure of energy and taking such damage. You fight a war with yourself, aching to feel his fangs in you again, but you're not sure he'll stop, once he starts, and you don't have much to spare. Logic wars with lust, the eternal battle of wits versus hormones.

Usually, the latter wins. 

“Jardani…” you coax, hoping sanity will prevail. “You have to set me free.”

He groans in response, kissing your pulse. “I don't have to,” he protests, and though there's a hint of his usual insouciance, mostly you're afraid he's absolutely serious. You open your mouth to protest again, but he swallows whatever you intended to say with his lips on yours, like a starving man who intends to eat you whole, starting with your mouth. 

You're not sure who escalates this already torrid exchange with a fang piercing your tongue–all you know is that what was already a bonfire escalates into a full on inferno. He eats at your mouth, lapping at your tongue as that agonizingly wonderful wave of desire fills your every cell. As you strain against your chains to be closer to him, to have more, he takes mercy on you with one of those muscle-strapped thighs between yours. You grind on him desperately, too far gone for anything resembling restraint, your pride totally forgotten. 

He migrates from your mouth to your neck, piercing your flesh and drinking you down, grabbing handfuls of your curves to hold you close. That scintillating, excruciating pleasure pulses and purrs inside you. It is him, but also, it is the two of you together, and when that magic reaches its shining peak in your loins you think you might implode for the exquisite rapture of it, release like a chain explosion sparking and spreading from your greedy cunt up your spine. Through the ringing in your ears it takes you a few moments to realize he is talking you through it, whispering low words in your ear that you do not understand, but you feel all too well. 

He kisses you again with your blood in his mouth, a slow and sensual thing that manages to curl your toes all over again, his tongue swiping the seam of your lips. “My pretty little bird,” he whispers. “The things I am going to do you, when we have time and a soft bed…” 

The sound you make in answer is barely human–but then, neither are you. 

When he produces the key you don’t know if you want to smack him, or laugh. He had it all along? Did he take it from Juan, or one of the other vampires? With a knowing little smile he reaches up to unlock your manacles, smirking down at you with a warmth in his eyes that could start a forest fire. 

If you had any sense left to your name, you would be furious for this little bit of trickery. However, that is not what you need. When you throw your arms around his neck he embraces you hard, enveloping you in those strong arms and lifting you off your feet. You feel your heart glowing like a hot ember in your chest, and you have no fucking idea how all this is going to work out in the end, but at the moment it doesn’t matter. 

A flash of an image surfaces in your mind: tangled under warm blankets with this man’s powerful body curled around yours while the winter winds and the hungry wolves howl outside, and you are unfalteringly certain that nothing bad can ever touch you again. 

You feel that way now, pulling back to look at him, searching his handsome, blood-flecked face. You say nothing, and neither does he, but you know he senses some shift in you. Whether in the widening of your eyes, or the hitch of your breath–but he makes no life-altering demands. All he asks of you, is for another toe-curling kiss with the tilt of his head. His soft lips on yours feel like a promise, and for the umteenth time this night you think to yourself: you are so fucked. 

“We have to go find Constantine,” you say as you pull away from him. “I know he’s in danger.” You feel it tugging on you at the distant end of your metaphysical cord. Trepidation. Fear. Resolve. You’re not sure if taking you from him was meant as a trap, or a distraction, but it can’t be good. 

“You’re too late.” The thing at your feet that only vaguely now resembles don Juan grins a bloody grin. “They have the psychic, that woman detective, and they’re doing the ritual tonight. Mamon will rise, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

“Where?” demands Wick with a growl that raises the hair on the back of your neck. 

Don Juan, however, just spits blood at the dhampir’s feet. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“You can heal this eventually,” says Wick with a dismissive wave at the vampire’s missing limbs. “Tell me, or I will take your head too.”

“You won’t leave me alive,” scoffs Juan. “I was not born yesterday.”

“My word.” 

“As a gentleman?” The laughter that grates from Juan’s lips is bitter as the betrayal of a friend. He is not biting–and you are running out of time.  

Wick casts a look at you before returning to the vampire. “As a husband,” he answers. “It is the only vow that I ever held truly sacred.”

“John Wick, murderer and romantic…how sweet,” taunts Juan, rolling his eyes. Even in this state, he cannot be anything but that what he truly is: an asshole of the purest grade. 

 “Tell me,” says Wick darkly, brandishing a knife produced from somewhere. “Or I will keep you like this for centuries more. I will take pieces from you until you are nothing but the talking head you are, but you won’t die. Trust me, I know.” 

Juan just glares, until Wick begins advancing on him with the knife, seemingly going for an ear. “Fine!” shouts the vampire, desperately leaning away just before the blade touches his skin. “Fine, fine, hijo de puta.” Lower, under his breath he continues to grumble, “Chinga su madre, pinche pendejo...”

“You were saying?” 

Mad as a rattlesnake, but realizing he has no other alternative, Juan spills the beans. 

—-----------

*hijo de puta - son of a bitch *chinga su madre - fuck your mother *pinche pendejo - fucking bastard *🤣🤣 i’m so sorry…

[bitterfaustianrabbit]

Title: Mutal Distraction Rating: Explicit. Warning: Underage. Fandom: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler. Characters: Sebastian Michaelis, Ciel Phantomhive, Original Male Characters. Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhvie. Tags: Canon Universe, Teenage Ciel Phantomhive, Demon Sebastian Michaelis, Jealous Sebastian Michaelis, Possessiveness, Top Sebastian Michaelis, Bottom Ciel Phantomhive, Dollification, Clothed Sex, Dresses, Forced Feminisation, Crossdressing, Anal Sex, Porn Without Plot/Plot What Plot, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, One Shot. Summary: Sebastian and Ciel are investigating an Earl for a case when the pair get a little sidetracked.

Ciel talks with a Baron, an unknown and vile man whose soul reeks of rot and decay. The man's corpulent frame has his oversized belly poking out profusely. The man is tightly belted in. The shirt is hanging by a thread to his waistband. His fat, slobbery hands hold Ciel’s tiny, dainty, svelte fingers, leaving a damp watch where their flesh meets.

Baron Edgar Reed’s soul makes Sebastian's core shudder. The mere idea of being in this entity's presence makes him queasy. The man's soul is so dark and putrid that it lacks the palatability for any demon. Sebastian is positive that if the baron’s soul is thrown into a pit of rabid hellhounds, even they would turn their nose up at him.

Edgar Reed is a predator, but he is not the predator they are hunting. Sebastian bears witness to Ciels's growing agitation by being in this heathen's presence, trying not to, and ultimately failing to look elsewhere for the actual individual they are here to investigate.

Devil or not, Sebastian has limits to what he can tolerate and what he is willing to suppress. His core and demonic nature can be forced to bow and obey when necessary. It was by no means foolproof if agitated enough. Sebastian knows that if he continues to allow this man, this barbarian, to paw at his master, let him ruin such a lovely dress, a dress he spent hours designing, sewing and then dressing his master in or worse, have the man's foul stench embedded in the cloth. The scent of the baron's cigar already permeates the stuffy room full of hot, perspiring bodies that make the muscles in his lips curl in disgust.

Like the strings on a violin pulled too taut, Sebastian is one swift movement of the bow away from the cord, snapping with madness and violence.

He can feel his fangs, hidden behind his lips, digging into his gums. The tips slice the gingiva as his smile becomes strained.

When that beast of a man dares to touch his master so brazenly by his wondering fingers, nudging one of the few straps of his dress to fall, the lacy fishu knot being undone to bare more of his master's chest to that cur, Sebastian feels the dark tendrils of fury being to burn.

The twisting and wriggling tentacles coil around his legs and dig into the wooden floor beneath him. His shadow deforms from their rage.

“Ah!” a woman cries. Her crystal glass shatters in shards, and the bubbly champagne once contained now drenches her grandiose outfit. The noise of glass smashing has nearby patrons turning their heads, and it's enough of a commotion for Sebastian to stalk closer to his master, with neither him nor the baron aware of the supernatural speed, teleporting him to them from the other side of the room.

“Any time, Lady Robin,” The baron says, his smile too wide and tight to be genuine. Sebastian can see the vile thing inside, mopping at Ciel’s departure, itching to taste the forbidden fruit. It makes Sebastian sick to his stomach. “I hope you enjoy tonight's festivities.”

Sebastian senses that the adulatory bow and strained thanks that Ciel gaves is more genuine simply due to the promise of being escorted away from this cretin.

Together, Sebastian guides his master towards an empty drawing room—a place of solitude and reprieve, isolation and solace. There are no disgusting pedophiles to leer at his master like rabid dogs barking and fighting each other for a piece of meat here. He locks the door behind them so they will not need to worry about interruption.

They both take a deep breath as the weight of observation and scrutiny vanishes—the peace of privacy.

“You took your time,” Ciel harshly bites at him, his tone cold and unkind. The consequential opposite of the gentile and decorous Lady Robin he witnessed. His master’s countenance goes from sweetness to sourness instantly, the facade destroyed as his true self emerges. No, here was his uncompromising and mordant master. It was like a breath of fresh air. “Did you locate the Earl?”

“Indeed. He is still upstairs in his study, conversing with the Duke of Lungshire. From what I gathered, he will give a speech downstairs in an hour. That is when we will strike,” Sebastian states, frowning at the state his master is in. His fishu was undone, his sleeves dropping, and he could tell from the wrinkles atop his boots that one of his socks had fallen from the grasp of the garter. He feels the monster inside of him growl within his core. Images of bloodshed and slaughter play in the back of his mind like a soothing orchestra or the sweet voice of a hymn. “In the meantime, I ought to fix up your dress.”

“Yes, the baron was rather handsy,” Ciel says, his voice dripping with something that must be poison yet sounds like bells chiming. It feels like a trap.

Handsy is an understatement, in Sebastian's personal opinion. Generation on top of generations have imposed values prioritising males over women, which have allowed for men of his calibre to flourish. As a result, Baron Reed had become cocky in his manipulation. He should be lucky it's not him that Ciel wishes to dismantle and destroy. Sebastian doubts his master would be willing to show even a single needle drop worth of mercy.

“His superciliousness regarding his vulgar touching did not escape my attention,” Sebastian states. He does his best to sound impassionate or unaffected. Ciel seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of him and sparking a flame destined to burn both in intensity. It's hard to forget that the boy has a penchant for arson. “His behaviour is undignified and inappropriate.”

“Oh, I'm sure it didnt,” Ciel jeers, relaxing into the ottoman as Sebastian lifts the many layers of dress to reattach the boy's long socks back to the garters hanging from his small chemise. Ciel pulls his eye patch free and rubs at the dryness collecting there. His voice sounds like he knows more than what he’s saying, and Sebastian gets the niggling suspicion that the boy is watching him very intensely.

Sebastian ignores his master's words, as he doesnt need to respond, so he continues redressing his master for his later performance. Lifting the skirt further, Sebastian becomes drowned in the hot, stuffy layers of fabric.

He has seen his master as naked as the day he was born, not an inch of cloth to hide any sense of privacy or dignity, yet here, under the skirt of his master's dress, it feels considerably more intimate, more personal.

He looks up and sees the incredibly thin chemise and the darker outline of the boy's briefs. He can see the shape of the curve of Ciel's cock through the cotton.

It's tough to ignore how stiff it is. The organ is engorged with blood, and the heavy and heady scent of arousal swarms the demon's senses like smoke, like a deep and piercing miasma.

Yet he does not touch it or even mention it. He has a job to do.

“What is up with those men and their penchant for vulgarity?” Ciel asks, scoffing and cursing the baron and his horde of predators. His master's sweet and succulent lips twisted into a scowl, the whites of his teeth bared ever so minutely against the redness of lips so soft they'd be like pressing against a pillow. The bared molars flash and glint their bright whiteness, matching the mischievous glow of his master's bare, miscoloured eyes.

He lowers Ciel's skirt and grabs at the limp fabric of the boy's fishu, unpinning the fabric rose attached to one end of it.

“These men are entrenched in their own twisted desires,” He mutters, flapping out dust from his master's fishu, then rewrapping it around Ciel’s neck. Sebastian tries not to think about how that vile man touched it, how his dirtied, soiled hands touched something that neither belonged to him nor was even close to something he was even worthy of touching. “I would expect it to be queer if they didnt.”

“Well, you chose the damnable dress,” The boy says, grabbing at the hefty skirt before dropping it with vitriolic displeasure. Sebastian cannot say he feels the same, for the pretty pink outfit suits his master well, emphasising his feminine features and making him appear angelic. He seldom ever saw the boy in such attire. The saccharine disguise felt like a blessing, a light in this tenebrous world. “Seems you're well familiar with those kinds of men. This bloody thing is as uncomfortable as anything. I don't understand how women endure wearing these things.”

“It is a necessary evil to get the Earl's attention,” He says, raising and moving the corset cover and its delicate ruffles out to gain access to his master's corset, noticing the droopiness of the garment. It is not so easily held without a bosom to keep it snug. He undoes the bow and pulls the strings tighter after each grommet. “Now let me dress you back up. You need to be dressed with some decorum, or else the Earl will not be interested in you, and our case will be delayed further.”

“Damnable demon,” He hears the boy hiss out as Sebastian pulls tightly after pulling the string on the last grommet, tying a strong knot to keep it in place. Ciel’s small and weak lungs thought they were freeing themselves from their entrapment, only to be again confined. “You're paying too much attention to this. I'd almost think you were the one this dress was for.”

Once his master's corset is settled back appropriately, the boy looks sternly at him. “I will not have my master looking in such a state of undress. It's unbecoming.”

“It feels like you’re insisting on turning me into a doll,” Ciel grumbles as Sebastian pulls out a comb to straighten the hair extensions.

The demon has to restrain the urge to roll his eyes. “I'm not turning you into a doll.”

“You're a terrible liar,” Ciel says, his voice dripping with insinuation. His gloved fingers pressed against Sebastian's chest, his index trailing lower and lower down his chest to his belly to rest at the waistband of Sebastian’s trousers.

“I cannot lie, young master,” Sebastian says, his tongue oddly thick. Ciel presses close, his chest pressed up against Sebastian's torso. Ciel's finger dances dangerously close to his groin, which twitches as that digit drags its nail into his waistcoat.

Sebastian's fingers are still in the extensions, and his comb is dropping back into his jacket. It feels like his body is possessed by something, as he feels dissociated from the movement.

“Sureeeee,” the boys say with a look that ruffles Sebastian's feathers. Sebastian struggles to think about anything else. His body and core can only focus on the boy's closeness. Ciel's lingering aroma is potent and piquant. It picks apart the demon's resolve and calm exterior, dismantling Sebastian's veneer of control and revealing the hungry beast within.

The demon is hard, and his cock presses firmly against his slacks. The head pushes up, creating a tent in his pants, which nudges into Ciel's belly—exposing Sebastian's arousal to the teenager.

A low growl rumbles through his throat, a snarl curling up his lips as he grabs the boy's defiant and tortuous wrist. It's tiny in his grasp, and the thin, bony wrist is clenched in his fist as he pins the boy up against a wall.

Ciel has to clamber to stop himself from tripping over his own feet, gasping at the surprising hold and the unexpected tightness clamping down on him. Sebastian pins the boy between himself and the wall, his nose pressed against the boy's nape. He inhales deeply, taking ragged breaths as he drowns himself in that scent.

He presses his lips to that neck, feeling the heat radiate from the supple skin as he presses kiss after kiss. Trailing from the boy's lower neck, where his fishu is wrapped around him, up to the curve of his neck, fangs scraping the skin along his pulse point—so close to the jugular.

Sebastian longs to bite, to clamp down on that muscle, penetrate the flesh and leave puncture after puncture along his neck. To leave bruises all over that skin, marr it beyond recognition. Have the boy marked so severely that it would be undeniable what has occurred between the pair.

He knows it would ruin the case, but he's finding it harder to care. He could just invest in some concealer and have his young little master waltz around this mansion like the icon of innocence and purity whilst covered in love bites and bruises.

The idea becomes increasingly desirable, and he can't find it within himself to resist. His lips press against the underside of Ciel’s jaw, sucking the skin into his mouth, licking the skin and biting down against the flesh.

“Sebastian, st-stop,” Ciel groans, squirming as Sebastian’s fangs pierce through, trying to push himself off the wall, the brim of where the wood panelling meets the wallpaper above digging into the boy’s back. Sebastian feels the boy's cock pressing up against that pretty dress. A very definitive curve of hardness around the teen's groin. “You’ll leave a mark.”

Sebastian smugly grins against Ciel’s neck. “Too late for that.”

“Damn it, Sebastian…” Ciel hisses, his lids closing, eyelashes fluttering as the demon presses a hand to the boy's cock, rewarding him with a mewl for his efforts.

“I’ll leave you bruised and marked,” Sebastian whispers with a fangy smirk. “It's only fitting. Make the Earl think you are the pinnacle of innocence and purity, but there’s nothing innocent about you.”

“Jesus, Sebastian,” Ciel groans, rolling his head back as Sebastian curls his fingers into those faux slate blue locks. The pigtails feel subpar in quality compared to his master's natural locks, the difference so evident to his sensitive fingers. The wig is deeply embedded into Ciel's hair, some parts of the wig glued down to his scalp, and the long ringlets of hair twisted with his actual hair, making the tug the demon pulls on the artificial strands force Ciels head to move.

“He will be so disappointed he cant have you,” The demon whispers darkly. “That your purity has been stolen. Let you walk into his room covered in concealed marks, leave you dripping in cum. My cum.”

“Hghn Sebastian—” Ciel stops as the demon pushes his lips against his master, silencing him with a kiss. It is more sloppy than sophisticated. The demonic lustful urges compel Sebastian forward, making him willingly unrefined in his kiss.

Sebastian lets go of Ciel's gloved fingers, his hands trailing down the boy's shirt, corset, and bodice, feeling the shape and curve of the boy's feminine hips. He knows Ciel wouldn't appreciate the compliment, but he intensely exudes femininity to the point of appearing androgynous.

He grips Ciel’s hip, pulling him closer and hooking one arm underneath his dress. Breaking their kiss apart with a trail of saliva, he guides the boy to the drawing room couch. The boy's ruffled pink and white skirt contorts oddly from the crinoline cage.

The boy's lower region is exposed as Ciel is pressed against the sette. Scantly a piece of him is visible, but such a sight is so inappropriate on a woman. Incredibly scandalous and coquettish. Ciel's chemise was see-through, the fabric so thin that you could still see the dark outline of black cloth. The unmistakable bulge of a hard cock presses up obscenely against the fabric prison. A spot where the head rests is dark with dampness—soaked with the boy's excitement.

Sebastian unclips the boy's garters and unhooks the crinoline, the layered fabric of the skirt slumping down onto Ciel's body as the demon removes it entirely. Now, he can slide the layers of pink pastel and unmarked white up, drowning Ciel in the ruffles and ribbons of the frilly dress. The thin chemise now pushes up the clamps of the garters, which helps to weigh down the layers.

His gloved fingers trail up the socked leg, fingers toying with the boy's strap of his briefs, the undergarments the same style of those belonging to women, a piece he had deigned important to the disguise. He remembers the balking look of horror his young master gave him at the sight of it.

The demon fixates on Ciel’s throbbing cock, the member pulsing and begging for attention beneath the cotton. Sebastian grins as he leans down, blowing hot air over the damp stain.

Ciel wiggles and groans. Thin, svelte fingers clench the skirt in desperation. “‘Bastian…”

The demon lays a kiss along his master's exposed thigh, making an effort to deny attention to the boys leaking cock. Leaving it within his clothy prison. He is gentle and sensual here, knowing it's driving the boy up the wall and that he's not touching what they both know he desperately wants, but he is too arrogant and prideful to ask for.

Sebastian uses a fang to hook the cloth of his glove on and pulls the garment off his hand, exposing the mark of their covenant. The skin of his hand is marred and raised, the angry blaze of their contract against the smoothness of his hand. The black nails press against the soft and unblemished skin of his master's inner thigh.

He is loathe to remember when such silky milky skin was covered in an ugly array of cuts and bruises. Those cultists turning Ciel’s alabaster flesh into a canvas of brutality.

The demon is gentle even in his darkest moments, his carnality of desire chained by the ball and collar of the contract, not that Sebastian feels any genuine desire to harm or to maim and slaughter. He has moments of indulgence in bloodshed, but rage is not easily wrought on him.

Sebastian’s lips inch ever closer to the boy's prick, his throbbing member weeping, and he cannot find an excuse to deny Ciel any longer.

He nudges the thin crotch of the briefs and is finally out of the way, and the boy's member pops free. Its circumcised head is red, and the shaft is throbbing with a thick vein twisting up its length that Sebastian's nails press against. The cocklet is small in his large hand, but Sebastian enjoys the jolt that seizes Ciel's body when he grasps it within his hand.

“Fuck Sebastian—” Ciel groans as the demon's hand smudges the precum collecting at the crown over the tip, his thumbs sliding over the sensitive head.

“Tsk tsk, master why so terse?” Sebastian teases, enjoying the way Ciels succinctly mordant quips have abandoned him. The brainpower long vanished to his member, its small but thick shape sucking all the scurrilousness out of his tiny master, leaving him pliant and submissive.

Not one to let Ciel get the reins of the situation, Sebastian lowers his head, pressing his tongue to the base of the boy's shaft, then dragging his tongue along the underside until the little cocklet’s head pressed against his lips in a soft kiss.

Ciel's body quivers as he moans. Sebastian feels the intense pulse of the cock inside his mouth as he opens his mouth and sucks at the crown of the head. Ciel cries out loudly, uncaring of any passersby who could've heard such a wonton cry. He groans as his demonic servant sucks and licks at the cock in its mouth

“Fuck…” The boy moans, the voice short as he heaves each strained breath through the tightness of the corset.

“Enjoying yourself, Ciel,” Sebastian smirks, enjoying how the name falls from his lips. Proper etiquette states that he is never to speak his master's name aloud, and he follows the odd rules of this society to the letter. Still, the thrill of watching the boy glare and glower at him whilst wearing a pretty pink dress with his little cocklet being sucked on like candy is incomparable. Ciel cant even seem to find the energy or motivation to argue. Opting to give the demon a dirty look languorously.

“Fuck you, Sebastian,” Ciel curses churlishly. “Fuck me?” Sebastian jokes with a smug huff, letting go of the little cock. Teeth bared in mirth and an unconcealed threatening promise. “No, my lord, It is I who will be fucking you.”

Those miscoloured eyes widen as Sebastian pulls out a container that was used to stick the wig to Ciel's scalp, particularly in the areas of thin strands near his ears and the back of his head. The demon unzips his trousers and slips his stiff cock out from the sleeve of his briefs. The member is red and achingly hard.

Scooping clumps of petroleum jelly on his fingertips, he messages its thick and gloopy texture all over his cock. Looking down at his exposed and hard master, all hot and bothered and drowning his pink frills.

Sebastian thinks, ‘Oh, what a lovely dress to be debouched in’.

Ciel pales as the demon nears him, kneeling between his legs, pushing the boy's black briefs to the side, and sliding a knobby finger inside the clenching hole. His finger pushes the muscles apart and widens Ciel up, stretching him, but just shy of the amount he would need to be comfortable.

The boy deserved a little punishment for flirting with that baron tonight. He aims his cock up into Ciels puckered hole, his head pushing up against the walls of Ciel's arse.

Ciel groans as Sebastian pushes in, his length squeezing up inside of him. He grabs Ciel’s hips, fingers digging into the plump muscle of his cheeks as he jolts upwards, sheathing his whole length inside the boy's little body—the barest hint of a bump protruding from his belly.

Sebastian lifts Ciel's hips just a tad to get into a good position as he pulls away, his cock sliding out and pushing in again.

He fucks Ciel’s tight little pink hole as his cock pushes the black fabric to the side. With each thrust, each gyration of the demon's hips, Sebastian grips Ciel's hips close, slamming their hips together. Their hips collided with a slap of skin against skin, largely muffled by their clothes.

Sebastian watches as Ciel pants with each thrust, his body being pinned by the demon and the crushing confines of the corset. The boys cock flopping around with the motions of their union.

Ciel feels glorious to Sebastian. His scent is heavy in the room, like smoke in one of Lau’s opium dens, only more concentrated, more poisonous to the demon's resolve. Ciel is panting and gasping underneath the demon, and Sebastian feels the coil of desire and pleasure burn inside of him.

His master clenches around the demon's cock as Sebastian rolls his hips into the boys prostrate. Ciel cries and moans, his legs shaking and quivering with each deliberate and focused thrust inside.

“Enjoying yourself?” Sebastian breathes out, looking down at his master, slowly becoming undone with each jerk of his hips. His cock presses up against the boy's gland, sending shooting stars into the boy's nerves. The fingers of Ciel’s little hand clench as he gasps, mouth gaping, but no words escape.

Eyes glaze over in a lustful haze.

“Sebastian! Fuck Seb—” Ciel cries, groaning through a pained and pleasured whimper. The boy grabs the skirt, lifting it as he huffs and hides his burning deep blush - loss of control and resolve - embarrassing the teen with his own needs. Ciels cries sweetly, his back arcing as his cock rocks with the motions of Sebastian's hips, shooting hot wet ropes of white up and all over the pair. Droplets soak the underside of the skirt and chemise.

‘Typical,’ Sebastian thinks. ‘Of course, he’d rather not warn me and leave himself filthy, so I’ll have to clean it.’

Cum covers Sebastian's slacks and waistcoat, desecrating his clean image, but he doesn't care. Ciel's wobbly legs crisscross behind the demon's waist, pulling him ever closer to his hips, rocking through his orgasmic climax. Cries and wonton moans escape him as more cum beads at the tip of his cocklet.

Sebastian's still erect and still buried inside his little master. His cocklet is drained of what little cum the boy's balls contain. Sebastian feels his orgasm come, hot blinding pain shooting through his icy veins like lava is injected into his body as his core convulses with the intensity, and he has to clench his teeth and stare at his fucked little lord to focus on maintaining a physical form as his hips slam deep inside of Ciel at machine-like pace before cumming.

His body tenses as he feels his cock release a load deep inside of Ciel's hole. With each throb, his cock shoots ropes of thick, hot cum. His cock forms a little bulge in the boy's belly that seems to grow as sticky whiteness continues to coat the boy's insides. More than triple the boy's load shoots inside of Ciel before he feels finished, and he mourns the loss of that warm, wet tightness as he slides out of his master—a trail of whiteness oozing from Ciel’s puckered hole.

Predictably, the demon recovers from his climax faster than Ciel, but the boy still seems lost and buried in his orgasm.

He scoops a bunch of the boy's semen on the dress with a finger, watching it as the white sticky substance begins to drool and fall down his finger.

“You just enjoy making me work, don't you, young master?” Sebastian shakes his head, sucking on his cum soaked finger with a fangy grin.

[bees--collection--of--fics]

Hiiii can you do Sebastian x Reader friends to lovers one shot when Reader was also experimented on but instead of sea creatures Reader has canine like fox, dog, or hyena mutation? Ty!!

Of course! This will probably be the last request of the fandom until I get back into it. I'm moving onto Madness Combat. Sorry for the inconvenience. I no longer feel motivated to do requests for pressure anymore. But I will get back on the grind eventually.

You are Sebastian's canine friend, sticking by his side while he works. He would let you rest in his shop when you need to. One day, Sebastian was too busy to spend time with you but you waited for him. After he was done being busy, you were asleep. He softly smiled at you, letting you sleep.

After a while, you woke up and Sebastian was coiled up beside you, snoring. You softly laugh as you left some files before leaving his shop to scavenge around. You'll be back before Sebastian wakes up. You know so. After scavenging for a bit, you make it back to Sebastian's shop.

Sebastian was awake, tinkering with something. "Whatcha working on?" Your tail wags in curiosity. "A scrambler." You let out a surprised sound.

"Who's it for?" You asked, being curious. "I'm making it for my one and only canine friend, you." You gasp in surprise. "Oooh, thank you!"

"No problem." He smiles before finishing the scrambler. "All done." Sebastian hands the scrambler to you, you immediately putting it on. "It fits perfectly!"

You smile. You gave Sebastian a small peck on his cheek before his entire face turns red. "Oh sorry I didn't mean to do that." You said as Sebastian lifts you up. "No it's alright."

You felt relived. "I have something to tell you." Sebastian spoke. "Yeah?" He clears his throat.

"I wanted to tell you this sooner but I was too busy with work but uhh... I love you more than a friend." He felt embarrassed when he said that. "Me too." You responded before kissing Sebastian. He kissed back, feeling himself relax.

After a bit, the two of you pull away. "Thank you." Sebastian said. "No problem." You reply, smiling.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

[proth-blog]

I love making 035 a bit delulu in the worst way possible 💅💅💅he is such a piece of shit and I love him for that lol

After another party of the Black Lord has ended his maid hurried to her own chambers, visibly frustrated and upset. She open the door and slamed it closebehind her, she couldn't do this, she couldn't bare the noise, the unwanted touches, the sickening smell of blood and sex, her skin itched with anger, her corset felt too tight, she fiddled with the ribbons trying to untie them but her hands were shaking, she just tore them off and threw the black corset on the ground, the skirt was next, it was ridicolous, it coiled around her, it was unconfortable to be in, she tore the lace that kept the skirt in place like a dog tears meat from flesh, she threw the skirt on the floor with the corset....it wasn't enough, she was boiling, bubbling with rage, she started unceremoniously kicking and stomping the garments she threw on the floor...it looked ridicolous, she doesn't care, she hates them, those clothes, those....people....if one could call them that.

"Was that necessary...?"

A cold voice said from behind her, she knew who it was, how could she not, the voice of one that keeps her here, the voice of the one flaunts her around like a new doll he found, the voice of the one she loaths the most in this wicked city.

"YES!!"

She barked back at him.

She doesn't know how he got in her room without her seeing him or how he even got behind her in the first place.

"Mh-mh...adorable really~"

He wasn't even acknowledging her answer, more of an outburst of frustrated but still an answer, he just step closer to her, her whole body was shaking, her eyes were watering, her breathing was erratic, she doesn't know if she is mad or scared....meanwhile he is just there, looking down on her, seeingly calm almost amused...he extended his hand, almost to reach her, almost to caress her check.

She feel her vision blurr before she feels the pain from the back handed slap, it hit too hard inhumanly so, she just falls to side from the force of it, her nose started to bleed, her ear started to ring.

He just stood over her, she seem more surprised rather then scared, no no, she defenetly felt fear but surprise seemed to be the dominate emotion at the moment.

"Do not. ruin the gifts i offer you like that, it is-...quite disrespectfull..."

He steped over her disoriented body as he went for the door.

"So be so kind to fix what you broke when- mhm, you are done..."

He close the door behind himself leaving his dearest maid slightly incapacitaded for the moment, she'll recover...it's probably just a slight concussion, but he can't blame himself for it, it was all her fault after all, she is the one that ruined his oh so kind gift to her, how could he not get a bit upset?! But still he is too kind for his own good and he forgave her once more, she is too precious to stay mad at, he even went out of his way to lock the door behind himself so that no wandering courtier will bother her while she recovers! She is so ungreatfull but what wouldnt he do for his precious little maid.

[white-poppie]

Healing ★ ft. jjk men (Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji)

synopsis: how the jjk men help you heal from your fears and worries

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

The way your heart jumps to your throat at Geto-sama cursing out some damn 'monkey' is almost pitiful. Its cruel, the way he is gritting his teeth, the way his voice booms in the echoing chambers

Suguru's rage, its not even directed at you. But his voice is a bit too loud for your liking. Till it overpowers any other voice in your surroundings and sends your mind into an overdrive.

A numbing buzz echoes in the cortex of your brain and you feel a familiar heat behind your eyes.

It claws at you, your bottom lip trembling in the storm you get caught until a soft warmth holds your shoulders.

You look in front, met by scrunched eyebrows, that furrow in concern, pale lips parted in concern.

"Angel?" the storm says, his breath caught in his lungs. But he's cruel alright? Relentless, but the storm calms. He turns into soft gusts around you. Suguru cups your face in his hands, thumb caressing the apple of your cheeks.

"You okay?" he asks quietly and you nod softly.

"What happened? You zoned for quite a bit there, scared me there, angel."

""s nothing, I just got a little startled when you...spoke a little loudly." you say and his eyes soften, pale lips pressing on your temple.

"Sorry angel, I should've been more careful around you, it's my fault, but you gotta know my anger could never be directed towards you," he murmurs, brushing his hand through your hair.

A storm indeed, but Suguru is your breeze on an autumn afternoon.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

You listen intently to Satoru as you both sit on the dinner table. He goes on about his day, the way he was a pain in the ass for the higher-ups again. You chuckle and take a sip from the glass next to your plate, but your fingers lose their grip on the glass as it falls down, shards scattering on the marbled floor. Your eyes widen and silence crashes down in the living area, your breathing fastens and you don't even dare look back at Gojo.

"I am sorry- I am so sorry, I'll clean it up." You say letting out a rictus laugh as you lean down to haphazardly pick up the glass shards, your hands trembling like having just come from the shower on a winter day.

Bending down you pick up the shards with your bare fingers and Satoru's eyebrows furrow at your behaviour.

"Y/N, sweetheart you are gonna prick yourself with those shards." He says but his words cease to travel the vacuum you have built around yourself.

Gojo kneels to your level and grabs your wrist, feeling your erratic pulse under his fingers, the shiver of your limbs, you look similar to a dog under a firework show and his chest hurts.

"Sweetheart relax, you'll hurt yourself," he says softly, terrified, even more than you possibly. He is so scared of scaring you. He is so scared of making it worse. You take in a sharp breath and nod lightly.

"Let me get the dust-pan and broom this," he whisper softly, leaving you between the constellation of the shards, your thoughts, coiled into an unforgiving a ball, only broken when he walks back, kneeling beside you, gently dusting the pieces into the pan as he looks at you with a smile.

"There, all done," he says and searches into your eyes for a reaction. The faint cinkle in them shouts, 'you are not mad at me?' It’s so obvious from the watery look on your face.

“I am not mad, sweetheart, I could never be mad at you” He affirms and smiles. His hands, move to brush your hair gently, reaffirming it.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

You hate this. You hate how stupid this scanning ticket-check system makes you feel. It makes you feel like a boomer, a hobo if you might as you struggle with getting the scan done. Its not even then fact you can't operate it. You can easily operate it, but there's people behind you, waiting, groaning all the the while your hands tremble in mortification.

Beep. Denied

Beep. Denied.

Beep. Denied again

It was never ending, the machine kept on denying your effort and you could swear you heard someone in the line behind you groan.

"Here, let me," a voice interjects and you look up at Nanami, his eyes softening at the sight of your flushed face as he gently takes the ticket from you and gets it scanned...oh so it was this way. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment, wanting to cry out of anxiety.

You feel Nanami's arm against your lower back as it curls around your waist, walking a few steps ahead with you, his embrace blocking any extraneous factors that trouble you.

"You okay, love?" he inquires softly, his thumb rubbing circles on your spine.

"I feel stuped Ken'" you mumble your voice cracking.

“You are one of the smartest people I know, y/n” he coos slightly, “you just got overwhelmed, even the best of us get overwhelmed sometimes and that’s alright.” He says, caressing your shoulder gently.

“There’s a lot of things you can do that I can’t.”

“Like?”

“Hmmm….like being this effortlessly cute all the time.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

Toji Fushiguro was one of those men who had not an ounce of gentleness in them. Those hunter eyes of his that never softened at anything. Its not his fault, its just the way he looks. He can't help it.

The thing about Toji is that he snores while sleeping and yet somehow even with those deep snores, his sleep is restless.

So when he grumbles and opens his eyes to your dry sobs, scrunched eyebrows and spasmodic body. He jolts awaken.

The thing with Toji is that he hates his sleep being disturbed, but what he hates even more is seeing you in despair, seeing you suffer like that.

"Y/N, wake up, you are having a nightmare," he says, softly nudging you with his scarred hands. You jolt awake and turn to him, your eyes blurry, your cheeks wet, and your lips parted for an aborted sob.

Toji's heart drops to his stomach at the visual. He sits up straight and his arms instantly come up to pull you to his chest.

"Ssh, what did you dream about baby?" he asks, letting you nuzzle into him and get comfortable as his hands softly caress your back, his warm palm running up and down, heating your cold body.

You sigh against his chest and shake your head, "Just had a dream that you left me..." You say and he sighs, resting his chin on your head

"Such stupid dreams my baby has," he says calmly, his deep voice rumbling in a low purr. "How could I ever leave you?"

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"Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! [Synopsis: Read full synopsis HERE ... The year is 1759, London. Shakespeare’s new estate is set on fire by Reverend Francis Gastrell. History repeats itself, 250 years later when Luna Gastrell stands in turmoil due to her ancestry taking a sinister turn. A ploy of vengeance, illusions, betrayals, blooming romance and morally conflicting measures, and the cards lie in favour of none.] I am a 16-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future!

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? )

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