#my water bottle better not break inside this thing

[murbsies]

We're having a "No backpack day" at school and I really wanted to get a shopping cart from some junkie who stole one. My parents protested. I wiund up going with the case that my laptop had when we bought it.

Very spacious, but digs into my palms when I hold it by the handle.

Plus it makes me look like a snobby kid who wanted to go to school whilst also flexing.

[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

A Firm Hand

MDNI!!!

A/N: I posted this on ao3 a little bit ago, so I figure why not post it here too! Beta read by @teaflavoredwitch Bucky Barnes x female reader, past Steve Rogers x reader implied/referenced, cheating, alcohol, kind of dub con if you squint, p in v sex, dom!Bucky, protective Bucky, dirty talk, kitchen sex, spanking, fingering, drunk sex, size kink, friends to lovers, angst and porn, shamelessly self-indulgent

Word Count: 5.3k

Steve Rogers is a jackass.

Captain fucking America, mister cherry pie and morals, was a self-righteous prick. Bucky had never felt more pissed off at Steve in his one hundred plus years of living than he does right now. You curled up in his bed, bawling your eyes out and practically chugging some cheap magnum bottle of whiskey. 

Steve, who apparently didn’t believe in too much of a good thing, when he decided to stick his patriotic dick in Sharon Carter of all people. Of course, you found out. Steve was a terrible liar despite having the balls to actually cheat on you. You don’t know why you immediately go to Bucky, but you do. In the year you’ve been dating Steve, you became rapidly closer with the former Winter Soldier. Perhaps it was the forced proximity, or maybe you were just kindred spirits.

Bucky, of course, falls for you. Hard and fast like an idiot. Forced to pine after his best friend’s girl as if his life wasn’t already a fucking sob story. Always the dutiful friend, listening to you vent about the pitfalls of your relationship with Steve and trying to offer sound advice. Bucky learns to tame the green eyed monster inside him, finding contentment as your friend and confidant. 

When you show up on his doorstep at eight o’clock on a Saturday night, he knows Steve fucked up. He knows it without you even having to say a word, because he knew this would happen. He knew, on some level, that Steve didn’t deserve you. Not that Bucky deserved you either, god knows he was even less deserving. But you went to him, so that has to mean something, right?

The intensifying of your sobs pull Bucky out of his reverie, head snapping in your direction again. Some commercial blares on his shitty little TV in the corner of his bedroom, Even the Nights Are Better playing in the background on some allergy medicine ad. 

“T-this was our song!” You wail, burying your face in a pillow as your body shudders with the force of your sobs. The bottle of whiskey remains clutched in your hand. If it weren’t for your inconsolable state, Bucky might’ve been impressed and slightly turned on at the way you chug the whiskey. A woman after his own heart.

Bucky grimaces, perched next to you, stock still, “Okay, dollface, I think that’s enough whiskey.”

He feels awkward and stilted, like his skin is on too fucking tight and the room is too warm. He feels way too self-aware, he’s tuned in to every little sniffle and hiccup.

Seriously, fuck Steve for this. Not only for breaking your heart, but also creating the perfect storm. You, vulnerable and drunk in his fucking bed of all places. A wet dream come to life, if he’s being honest.

He needs to get the whiskey from you. He practically has to pry it out of your hands, amber liquid sloshing inside the nearly empty bottle. Fuck. He should have cut you off way earlier. He grabs the remote, clicking the mute button, “Honey, let’s take some deep breaths, yeah?”

Bucky tries to smile reassuringly but it’s tight and stretches over his teeth in a weird way that makes him look more machine than man. You peer over the edge of the pillow smushed against your face, doe eyes blinking owlishly at him, “Deep breaths?” You echo, incredulously, “You want me to take deep breaths when I walk in on my boyfriend tongue deep in that blonde bitch? Are you fucking for real, Bucky?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes rapidly, like a fish out of water. He sure fucking feels like one, incredibly out of his depths. He’s not equipped for this, a tornado of hormones and heartbreak. His stupid silence somehow seems to agitate you even further, angelic features twisting and morphing through every stage of grief in a matter of seconds.

Your anguish quickly gives way to fury, chucking the pillow across the room, “Has he always been like this? Huh?” 

Bucky blinks taken aback, “What? Steve?” He sighs, running a hand through shortly cropped hair, “No, doll, he hasn’t always been like this. I’ve known Steve since we were kids, and he’s never been a saint but he’s not usually an inconsiderate, lying, cheating asshole either.” Bucky’s voice is hard and contemptuous.

Bucky takes your dainty hand in his, squeezing reassuringly, “Hating Steve isn’t going to make this better. It’s not going to erase the pain he caused,” He pauses, pursing his lips as he tries to find the right words, “You gotta let yourself feel this, dollface. Feel the anger, feel the hurt, the betrayal. Don’t suppress it, because that’s just gonna make it fester.”

His jaw clenches, teeth grinding together. Bucky silently attempts to work through his own feelings on the matter. On one hand, his never wavering loyalty to Steve, his brother in arms and every sense of the word. On the other hand is you. Heartbroken, far too lovely for his comfort and the odd, delicate bond between you two. Bucky swallows, his mouth filled with a metallic taste as he fights down the ever growing urge to hunt Steve down and beat him within an inch of his life. 

He realizes you’re staring at him, gaze hard, “Why didn’t you warn me?” You ask in a quiet, hollow tone that makes Bucky feel like his heart is going to shrivel up in his chest.

Running a hand down his face, Bucky huffs, “Warn you?” He echoes, “Honey, I… I didn’t know.” He implores, clenching his fists in his lap, “I swear to God, if I had known he was being such a fucking prick, I would’ve put a stop to it, I would’ve beaten the information out of him myself.”

“You didn’t know?!” You throw your hands up in the air, gesturing wildly, “You didn’t have a single fucking inkling? I don’t believe that for a second, Bucky,” You hiss, movements jerky and agitated as you tousle your hair, “You didn’t think to say, “Hey doll,”” You begin to mimic Bucky’s voice, “‘You’re about to date the goddamn devil!’”

Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, Bucky scoots back. Your accusation stings, hitting a nerve he hadn’t known was exposed, “Hey, hold on just a damn minute,” He says, his voice rising in defense, “I’m not fucking psychic, dollface. I knew Steve could be an inconsiderate ass sometimes, but I didn’t know he was straight up cheating on you.”

Bucky scoffs, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through his veins, “I’m not going to apologize for not knowing what my so-called best friend was up to behind your back. That’s not fucking fair.”

His gaze softens slightly, his voice lowering to a more conciliatory tone, “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs earlier. I’m sorry you got hurt. But don’t think for a second that I would’ve ever encouraged you to be with someone who would treat you like this. You mean too damn much to me for that.”

You’re still pissed, of course. Feeling self-destructive, though Bucky’s heartfelt declaration hits deep. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a feral kind of rage filling you, “Oh yeah? Well… you’re… You’re an ass!” You shout, a half-hearted insult. You weren’t really trying, you just wanted to burn bridges. You push yourself out of the bed, stomping out of the room. Slamming the door for good measure, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. Storming into the kitchen, you begin digging through Bucky’s sparse cabinets for more liquor.

Bucky stared after you, stunned and hurt by your somewhat childish outburst. Your accusations burned like salt in a fresh wound. He stood there for a moment, anger and confusion warring within him. Then, with a fierce scowl, he stalked after you, his long strides quickly closing the distance between his bedroom and the kitchen.

The floorboards creak under his heavy footsteps as he follows the path down the hallway. When he reaches the kitchen, he grabs the doorframe, leaning in. “Hey, wait a fucking minute.” He all but growls, his voice a deep, dangerous rumble. “I know you’re hurting, but you don’t get to just accuse me of being an ass and then stomp away like a fucking toddler.”

He steps further into the kitchen, a breath away from crowding you against the counter, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Steve being a prick, but I won’t accept you throwing blame at me when I'm trying my goddamn hardest to be here for you!”

Bucky leans back against the counter, scoffing, “We both know you’re better than this, sweetheart. Don’t let Steve’s mistakes make you forget that. I’m not the enemy.”

You snatch a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet, there’s no more than a few sips left. You down it in one go, sighing tiredly, “I don’t need you to be here for me. I don’t need you to fix me, Bucky. I’m not some little dolly for you to glue back together. You don’t need to make your fucking amends with me.”

Bucky’s expression hardens, snatching the bottle from your hands, “Watch your fucking tone,” He whispers, cornering you against the counter. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, you see it. The Winter Soldier lurking in the back of his psyche. It sends a perverse thrill down your spine.

“I’m not trying to fix you. You’re not some damn doll, I know that. I’ve always known that.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “I’m here as your friend, to listen, to support you. But I won’t allow you to take your anger out on me, honey.”

You’ve never been good at knowing when to quit, it’s never been your strong suit. Now is not an exception, you double down on your brattiness.  

“Don’t tell me to watch my fucking tone, I’m not a child.” You hiss, scowling up at him. He towers over you, all muscle and man. Damn him for being so fucking tall, built like a skyscraper. You damn near have to be on your tiptoes at this point, it’s ridiculous. 

He grasps your chin hard, cheeks smushing up and lips forced into a pout, “Watch it, little girl,” He murmurs lowly, licking his lips, “You can be mad. You can scream and shout and curse until you’re blue in the face. But you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Those sapphire eyes flashed with a mixture of anger, frustration, and a hint of something else, something that made your insides feel molten and heady.

“I’ve taken a lot of shit for the people I love. I’ve been beaten, tortured, and turned into a fucking weapon. But damn if I’m going to stand here and take your anger when all I’m trying to do is be here for you.” Slowly, deliberately, he leans in closer until his breath is hot against your pursed lips, “I know you’re hurting. I know you’re angry. But I won’t let you push me away, dollface. I won’t let you be self-destructive.” His voice drops to a fervent whisper, “You fucking try me, sweetheart. I’ve dealt with terrorist threats and mad titans. Fuck, I’ve been a terrorist. You think a little thing like you is going to scare me off?”

Bucky’s hand snakes around to the back of your neck. You whirl around, the world spinning, and he pushes you face first into the hardwood. You all but shriek in surprise, eyes comically wide. Your left cheek squished on the cool flooring, shoulders pinned down. Your knees prop your ass up in the air, curving your spine into a sharp arch. He has you right where he wants you, submissively positioned. An offering, your perky backside up in the air invitingly. Your body betrays you, a fucking shiver of pleasure wracking through you. You can feel your cunt leaking eagerly at Bucky’s manhandling. 

You wonder if he realizes the effect this is having on you. All thoughts of Steve and his betrayal fly from your mind as your pussy throbs in time with your rapid heartbeat. Shame and arousal burn your cheeks, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away your body’s traitorous reaction. 

This is Bucky. This is fucking Bucky. Steve’s best friend, your weird friend-ish acquaintance. You know him because of Steve. This is a bad idea, horrible. You need to put a stop to this immediately before you actually let him have his way with you on the kitchen floor. Because you’re heartbroken, you’re pissed, and you’re far wetter than you’ve been in months. You’re too vulnerable and fucked up, not to mention drunk to make a sound decision right now. And you know, you fucking know if Bucky asked to rail you within an inch of your life… You’d say yes.

So, “Bucky, uh,” You begin to protest meekly, all the fire and spit on your tongue moments ago evaporating.

The hand that is now pressing down in the middle of your back and pinning your sternum to the ground increases in pressure fractionally. A silent warning of the consequences of pushing back even further.

The words die on your tongue, you focus your gaze on a piece of lint by your face and huff. 

But then, slowly, deliberately he brings his hand down on your upturned ass. Delivering a sharp smack that echoes through the room. A surprised shriek of indignation rips from your throat, equal parts horrified and aroused. The stinging pain radiates across your tender flesh, a stark contrast to the coolness of the floor beneath you. “What in the fuck are you doing?” You demand angrily, scowl deepening.

“Keep testing me, honey, and I’ll show you exactly what happens to bratty little girls who don’t listen,” Bucky punctuates his words with another sharp smack to your ass, watching as the flesh and fat jiggle and redden beneath his organic palm.

He drapes his muscular torso across your back, leaning over your bent form. His breath is hot against your ear, his body a heavy, unyielding weight pressing down on you. It’s a comforting contrast from the rough treatment your butt is receiving, like a warm weighted blanket. 

Despite your best efforts to stay quiet, a tiny breathless noise escapes your throat. Halfway between a moan and a squeak, the flush staining your cheeks darkens further. You bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, simultaneously mortified and turned on.

Momentarily caught off guard, the super soldier freezes, his vibranium hand resting on the curve of your hip. A look of shock and disbelief crosses his handsome features. He had expected anger, perhaps even more fighting back, but never in a million years did he think you would react so unabashedly with desire.

For a moment, Bucky simply stares down at you, taking in the pretty flush of your cheeks, the way your lips parted around that sinful little noise. His cock, hard and heavy, strains through his jeans and presses into the curve of your ass. That all-consuming hunger that HYDRA tortured out of his system returns with a fucking vengeance. His blood sings in his veins at your little noises and rushes to his dick. 

A low, strangled groan escapes his throat as Bucky tries desperately to grasp at the last vestiges of self-control. His hand digs into the fat of your hip, squeezing and kneading almost unconsciously, “Fuck, honey…” He murmurs, his tone ragged with the overwhelming heat consuming you both, “Are you… are you getting off on this?”

Bucky moves impossibly closer, chapped lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “‘Cause if you are, honey… I’ll fucking wreck you and I won’t be held responsible for it.”

“Shut up,” You whine weakly, your shame and arousal fighting for dominance. Despite your half-hearted protest, you arch your spine deeper. You’re soaked, you know it. Embarrassingly soaked, probably through your fucking sweatpants at this point. Your cunt aches, feeling too empty. Bucky’s dark promise of wrecking you? Fuck if it doesn’t make you clench around nothing, needy and debauched. He’s barely touched you and you’re sure if he so much as brushes past your clit, you’ll cum harder than you ever have in your life.

Bucky’s eyes darken with lust as you arch your back, presenting your ass to him like a cat in heat. A low, approving growl rumbles deep in his throat. The hand on your hip slides back to palm the globe of your ass, sinking into the fatty flesh. You hope it bruises, god you want him to mark you. You want that vibranium arm to rip you into pretty little chunks and remake you into something new. Something Steve’s never touched, never kissed, never held.

“Shut up? Honey, the way you’re acting, you don’t want me to shut up,” He taunts, his voice a deep, seductive murmur.

That rips a pathetic whimper from your throat, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m too drunk for this.”

Bucky hums, “Yeah? You’re a big girl, you know how to say stop.”

You shudder, all but melting beneath him, “I’m too sad for this.”

Smack!

This time Bucky’s metal arm meets your ass cheek, you jolt, gasping. You’re panting openly against the hardwood, eyes screwed shut and blushing like a virgin. The intoxicating mixture of stinging pain and molten pleasure are far more powerful than the whiskey in your belly.

The former Winter Soldier all but rips your sweatpants down, bunching them around your knees. The cool air against your newly exposed skin makes you shudder, a perverse shiver racing down your spine. The rough, calloused pads of Bucky’s fingers dig into the tender flesh of your ass cheek, kneading and squeezing the malleable muscle possessively, “Fuck, baby, look at this ass… you’re fucking perfect,” He groans approvingly, hips rocking forward to grind his clothed erection against you, “Steve was a goddamn fool to ever even look at another woman.”

Without warning, he brings down his palm hard against your bare ass, the sharp crack of skin against skin filling the otherwise silent apartment. The biting ache blossoms across your nerves, quickly followed by a rush of heat and traitorous surge of arousal, “Maybe this is what you need, honey. You need to be manhandled, huh? I gotta slap that bratty attitude of yours outta your ass?” Bucky coos mockingly, dragging his blunt nails down the rapidly reddening skin.

You breathe shallowly, fuck it feels like you’re barely breathing as is. This is a side of Bucky you’d never dreamt of seeing, not even in your wildest dreams. He was always so stoic, quiet. It was like you were friends with a brick wall that used to be a sleeper agent. But this? Domineering, taunting, merciless Bucky? You were fucking drenched.

You hum in agreement, wiggling your ass back, too far gone now. Any sense of decorum or boundaries flies out of your little bird brain. All you know is Bucky’s punishing hand and his rock hard dick pressing against you.

He shifts, maneuvering your wrists to hold them firmly over your head with one large hand. He brings the other down on your backside in a series of sharp, biting slaps. A red handprint blooms across your skin, a brand. The pain gives way to a dizzying liquid heat that has you squirming and whining under him.

“Fuck, listen to you… making all those pretty little noises for me,” He pants, hips grinding slowly against the curve of your butt. Bucky was throbbing in his pants, achingly hard and straining angrily in the confines of his jeans, “Keep making those noises and I’ll bust in my fucking pants, honey.”

You can feel it now, how soaked you are. The cotton gusset of your panties clings to your puffy lips like a second skin. The evidence of your arousal is impossible to miss, the dark spot growing rapidly with each slap and taunting murmur. You rub your thighs together needfully, desperate for some kind of relief. Bucky’s gaze narrows in on your needy display, grinning wolfishly, “Fuck, honey, you’re absolutely soaked through,” His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, rolling his hips teasingly into your backside, “Is this what you need, doll? To be put in your place, spanked until you’re a needy, desperate little thing?”

Holding your wrists firmly above your head, his vibranium hand slides around your hip, fingertips brushing teasingly along the sticky fabric of your underwear. The material clings to your swollen, aching folds. 

“You leaking just for me, honey?” Bucky murmurs, nipping at your ear. He brushes the edge of his nail across the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. It’s so light that you almost don’t feel it, but you do and you sob in relief at the slightest touch. Your legs tremble, threatening to give out under you.

Bucky continues his maddeningly light caresses, “So fucking wet and ready for me…”

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, cool vibranium meeting feverish, swollen flesh. It swells and throbs under his ministrations. His fingers continue their unhurried exploration of your pussy, a single digit circling your entrance. You feel it push in slowly, sinking in one knuckle at a time. Your pussy flutters and clenches around the invading pressure, eager to be filled.

“This is what you needed all along, isn’t it honey? To be touched like this, to have someone take control and make this needy cunt drip?” He slides a second finger knuckle-deep into your dripping hole, pumping them in and out of your clinging heat as his other hand delivers harsh, biting strikes to your backside, “That’s it, honey, fucking take it.”

The thought of Steve’s vanilla, lackluster lovemaking paled in comparison to the passionate, almost feral way Bucky was claiming your body now. And his dick wasn’t even out yet. He could feel every inch of your silken skin trembling and quaking with need, your breathy cries and whimpering music to his ears. The tender, almost gentlemanly approach Steve usually had taken with you had left you wanting, craving something far more intense and fulfilling.

Bucky eases his fingers out and peels your panties from your sticky cunt, shucking the fabric to bunch it around your knees with your sweatpants. He reaches out once more, his calloused palm cupping the warm, plush flesh of your ass. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could feel the way your muscles clenched and trembled beneath his touch. His fingers sank into the giving flesh, squeezing. 

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’ll die,” You whisper, needy with shame burning your cheeks. And in that moment, it may as well have been true. To drive the point home, you wriggle your ass back against his groin, a clear invitation.

Bucky groaned, the sound torn from deep in his chest. His cock throbs and jumps at your needy words, desperate to be balls deep in your tight cunt. Faintly, he realizes he should hesitate, take a moment to think this through. But the way you presented yourself so wantonly to him made every logical thought fly out the window. He couldn’t resist, not you, not like this.

His hands flew to his belt, working it open with shaking hands. He quickly shoved his boxers and jeans down his thighs, freeing his aching cock. It sprang up, long, thick, and flushed a deep, angry red. The swollen head was leaking pre-cum, a bead of moisture rolling down the shaft. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking himself a few times, before shifting closer to you. Bucky sweeps the tip of his cock through your folds, from hole to clit, coating himself in your sticky slickness. 

You gape at his dick, eyes wide as you peer over your shoulder. He’s fucking huge, because of course he is. Thick and girthy, this is going to hurt, you realize. And though that should deter you, or at the very least make you anxious, it only makes you wetter.

“Fuck,” You whisper, struggling to form a coherent thought, “You’re fucking huge. That’s… that can’t fit. It’s physically impossible.”

The bastard smirks, rubbing the small of your back, “Oh, it’ll fit, honey. I’ll make sure of that.”

You already feel your inner muscles tensing up, trying to force out something that isn’t even breaching you yet. A high-pitched keening noise rips from your throat as the bulbous tip sinks into your wet heat.

Bucky shudders as he feels your tight little cunt clenching and fluttering around just the swollen head of his cock. Fuck, you were so goddamn small, so fucking tight. He could feel every inch of your silky walls squeezing him, trying to push his thick tip out of your needy hole. It took every ounce of control not to just slam forward and bury himself to the hilt in your scorching heat.

He grit his teeth, his breath coming out in a low growl as he forced himself to hold still, to wait for your okay before he fucked into you. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he fought for some semblance of restraint. Where was all that goddamn self-discipline that HYDRA beat into him? His dick was barely inside you and he was already a slave to your nubile body. 

He rocked his hips slightly, just barely, letting you feel the thick, spongy head of his cock kiss your entrance with each shallow thrust. “Tell me to move, honey.” Bucky pants, sounding utterly wrecked, “Let me move.”

All you can offer is a small, pathetic whine in response. 

That’s all the confirmation Bucky needs. He starts to move then, his hips rocking in shallow little thrusts as he eases inch after inch of his monstrous dick inside you. His grip tightens on your hips, digging into the plush flesh of your ass as he keeps you in place for each teasing thrust of his cock.

“God, honey, I’m gonna fuck this needy hole just like you want,” He growls, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of holding back, “Gonna rub this thick fucking tip all over this slutty pussy until you’re dripping and begging for my cock. Fuck… you’re so goddamn tight. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.”

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this,” You gasp, screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You’re already feeling overstimulated, too warm and too full. Part of you screams to crawl away from the excruciating sensation of being impaled on such a thick cock. You try your best to breathe through it, willing your body to relax. Your cunt weeps, rivulets of slick dripping down and around Bucky’s dick. You feel the little droplets running down your thighs, mixing with your sweat.

Bucky hisses through clenched teeth as he feels your arousal dripping obscenely down his length, your thighs trembling. He loops an arm around your hips, holding you up as he watches the way his dick is swallowed up by your tight hole. He could see you struggling, hear the conflict in your whimper, the way you whispered this was wrong even as your body screamed for his touch. He knew he should listen to the voice in both your heads telling him to stop, to pull away before they crossed a line from which there could be no return… but fuck, he was so goddamn close to the edge already.

His hips rocked faster, fucking his cock in and out of your clutching heat with rough, rapid thrusts. A wet, obscene symphony of squelching and skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with his labored breathing and low, strained grunts of pleasure.

“We… fuck.. We shouldn’t…” He repeated your words dumbly, but even as he said it, his cock kept moving. You could feel the tip kissing your cervix with each throbbing, leaking thrust. “But fuck, honey, you feel too good… too goddamn good. We can’t stop now,” Bucky leans forward, pressing his chest against your back, his lips brushing down the side of your neck, “Fuck, gonna make this pretty cunt mine. Fill it up real good, honey.”

“Oh, god,” You gasp, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you at his words. Your toes curl, fingernails scraping across the floor, “I want that, please. Wreck me.”

The desperate, pleading tone of your voice shatters the remnants of Bucky’s already frayed control. His eyes roll back at your words, groaning. He feels your velvet walls clench and ripple around his throbbing dick, grasping him like a hot fist. Without warning, his hand slides from your hip to your dripping sex, rough fingers finding your swollen, aching clit.

He teases the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles around it with the pad of his thumb as he fucks into you hard and fast. His hips rock faster in tandem with the finger on your clit, each thrust pushing a gush of your juices around his cock and down your thighs. 

You feel like you’re on fire, every nerve alight and singing Bucky’s name. You bite down on your fist, attempting to hold back the shrieks of pleasure bubbling up in your chest, “Right there, god, please!” You squeal, trembling with the burning need to cum, “God, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop, right there.”

Your whiny, wanton moans bring Bucky’s climax hurtling at him like a freight train. He ducks his head down, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder and shudders. The feeling of your slick little cunt gripping his dick was maddening, and the needy, desperate sounds spilling from your lips were pushing him closer to the edge, “Fuck, honey. Just like that, keep screaming for me. Gonna blow my load in this hot little cunt.”

You whine in response, Bucky’s rough treatment of your clit sending you careening over the edge. Your cunt clamps down violently, slick release gushing out of your hole. Lips parting in a silent scream, you shudder, shattering beneath him. Bucky lets out a guttural moan, his voice raw with pleasure as you cum hard on his cock. A puddle of sticky wetness forms between your legs on the floor, dripping down the fat of your thighs. Bucky can feel his own orgasm building fast and hard, his shaft throbbing and pulsing as he caresses your clit through your aftershocks.

“Yes, fuck! That’s it, honey. Soak me, pretty girl, gonna- fuck!” He grunts, his hips slamming forward and burying his thick cock to the hilt in your spasming pussy with one hard thrust. He groans long and low as your sex milks him for all he’s worth, his hot seed flooding your insides.

Bucky shudders, hips jerking as he empties his heavy balls inside you, thick ropes of pearlescent cum coating your fluttering walls. He presses his hips tight to your ass, grinding against you. That’s enough for your legs to quit on you. His eyes widen as your legs tremble and then give out, your body going boneless and pliant in his arms. He tightens his grip on your hips, hauling you back up onto your knees. Bucky’s heart races, a wild bird in his ribcage, as he struggles to catch his breath in the aftermath of his intense orgasm.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he eases his softening cock out of your well-used hole. A river of his thick cum oozes out after him, dripping down your inner thighs, joining the puddle of slick on the floor. Bucky can’t help but feel satisfaction at how fucked-out you look, sporting his bite mark on your shoulder. His hands slide around to cup the soft swell of your belly, his palms splayed across the gentle curve. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way it flushed and erupted in little goosebumps from his touch. His gaze heavy-lidded, dark with lingering lust as he murmurs in your ear, “We can’t do this again, right honey?”

[spidybaby]

A trusting matter

Summary: A confession makes Kylian think you have no trust in him. Making him feel shamed and almost breaking your relationship.

Warnings: cursing, sex talk, slut shaming, sex shaming.

"What is this?"

You turn your head to where he is, finding him walking out of the bathroom. He has something in his hands, reading the back of the box.

"I don't know, what is it?" you ask him.

He tries to read what the box means, but he can't understand any of it.

"Comprimé pelliculé." he reads out loud for you. "What does that even means?"

You frown, stretching your hand to him. "Let me see."

He hands you the box, you want to laugh at him.

It was your birth control pills. He was trying to understand what the box says but the box only reference that the box contains certain amount of pills.

"It's my contraceptive pills." you smile at him, leaving the box on the nightstand next to your side of the bed. "Want to see a movie?"

He's quiet, what is a contraceptive pill? why are you taking them?

"Are you sick?" he asks, worried about it.

You shake your head, smiling at him.

"Healthy as always."

"Then why are you taking these pills?"

You chuckle, finding him adorable. "It's contraceptive, Ky."

"What's that?"

You then get why he was so worried, he doesn't understands what the pills are for.

"They are birth control." You smile.

"Birth control as in anti baby?" He asks, still confused.

You can't help but laugh at him. Thing that makes him pout. Why were you laughing at him?

"I'm not sure if >anti baby< is the right thing to say, but yes."

His mind is still confused, why were you drinking them if he's using protection every time you had sex.

"But I'm using protection." he says, not fully getting the purpose of the pills.

"Yeah, you are."

"Then why are you taking these for?"

You sigh, wondering what's inside of his head for him to be that confused.

"Condoms can break." you say. "And it also helps me with my period, it helps me with my cramps. Not only for the anti baby part." you explain to him.

You left him sitting in bed, grabbing your water bottle and walking to the kitchen. He follows you like a kid who's ready to botter their mother with questions.

"But if the condom breaks, you can take the plan b pill, don't you?"

You roll your eyes, "Yes, that's correct. But I don't want to get to that." You say, low and monotone tone. "Birth control is safer and the fail rate is less than others."

He nods, not asking more questions. He was one not to ask much about health or things like that because you were someone healthy.

"Hey, do you want some cake?" you ask him. Opening the fridge. "I have the one you like." you take the box out of your fridge, placing it on the counter.

He nods happy, accepting a piece of it. You were seated at the top of the counter, he was between your legs as you feed him the cake while jokingly pretending to do the airplane move on him.

"You got some right here." you grab a napkin, wiping the tip of his nose.

He loves spending times like these with you. Only the two of you, things you could only do from time to time due to his agenda. Especially now that he is in Madrid.

You were telling him about this series that you were watching. He was washing the dirty dishes from dinner since you made dinner. He then gets this thought.

"Hey." He says, getting your attention.

You humm, placing the leftover food back on the fridge. You were too focused to notice his mischievous grin. He walks over to you, waiting for you to close the fridge door and turn, hitting his chest in the process.

You left out a laugh when he carries you and places you back on top of the counter. Kissing your lips while his hands grip your hips.

"I was thinking." He began. "Since you are on birth control, I can stop with the condoms."

You stop smiling, looking at him with a frown.

"And it's going to be better, because it's going to be a life saver. All those times we had to stop because I didn't have any left."

He was smiling like crazy, thinking of how much your sex life was going to change with you taking birth control. It was easier, it was faster and he didn't needed to stop when he runs out of condoms.

"Kylian," you sigh, not wanting to have this conversation. "I don't want to stop using condoms."

He frowns, not understanding you.

"Wha-Why?"

You don't want to say the real reason. "I just don't." You push him a little, getting down of the counter and walking back to the room. "It's more safe if we both are protected."

"But isn't birth control enough?" He whines. "Don't you want to feel me completely?" He asks, getting closer.

He hugs you from behind, his lips on your neck, making you shiver at the sensation. He pulls you to him, making you let out a small whine.

"Stop it." You whisper.

You take his hands away from you, walking over to the bathroom to wash your teeth. You can't help but feel a little bit bad about denying him what he wants.

But you can't.

He looks at you from the door. Not understanding why you are so questionable about the topic. He tries to understand that maybe it's because you are fearing that something fails and you get pregnant.

Even if that was the case, he would be by your side with any decision you take. But since it was not the case and he doesn't really know the real reason.

"I get that you are scared, but this can be something good for us." he says, trying to open your mind to the possibilities. "And if pregnancy its what scare-"

"Kylian, please." you say, tired of the talk. "Drop it."

"I'm just saying that you don't have to worry."

"Listen, I don't want to stop using condoms, end of story."

You walk outside of the bathroom, grabbing the clothes from your bed and walking into the closet to hang them.

"I just don't understand why you are so closed to the option."

You stayed quiet, you want to drop the conversation. If only you would have known that leaving your pills there was going to cause so much commotion.

"Y/n?"

You turn your face to him, noticing how his eyes are full of doubt. You just sigh, shaking your head and continue ordering the clothes.

"So you are just going to ignore me?" he asks, mad at your attitude.

You finish, turning to see him. "Kylian, you have been with a lot of people, I haven't. Forgive me for wanting to take care for myself." you explote.

He's taken aback, what are you even meaning?

"Take care of yourself?" he asks mad. "So I'm not safe enough for you to have sex without me wearing a condom?"

"Remember when I told you that maybe doing a test to see if you were fully healthy trigger you?" you ask. "You told me that you had that when you get the medical exams at the club. I asked you that because I don't want whatever you groupies have." you scuff.

You walk out of the room, tired of him insisting on talking about it. You take a few breaths, finally getting what you just said to him. You turn, finding him walking towards his things.

"Kylian." you call.

He just lift his hand, making you shut your mouth. You just observe him pick his things. He doesn't want to say anything back, afraid of telling something wrong.

"You were insisting, I asked you to drop it." you try.

"Yeah, I should have." he says, the way his voice is so low that scares you. "But lucky me I didn't, cause I found out my girlfriend thinks I'm fucking around and that I'm going to catch something and giving it to her."

"Kylian, don't go." you say, blocking the exit. "Let's just calm down and have a conversation."

"Oh! you want to talk now?" he laughs. "Well, now I don't want to."

You watch him go out of your house. Hearing the sound of his car getting away from your property. You feel bad about what the way this conversation goes.

"But why did you even say that?" your best friend says.

You look at her like a kid whose parent is scolding.

"I asked him to stop with the conversation, and when he didn't I lashed out."

You feel the guilt of the words you say to him. You know that what you say hurted him, you know that maybe this isn't something he would forget.

"I tried everything, calling, texting, even went to his place, but he was back in Madrid." you sigh, not sure of what else to do.

Your friend tries to think about what you can do to tried to make your situation right. It's a difficult position, because you lashed out when he kept insisting on doing something you weren't comfortable about.

The thing is, you would have been comfortable, but when you asked him something you asked your last partner, he refused.

Your mother taught you that you needed to be careful when it comes to sex. She works in health care and constantly sees how girl get things because the boys they are with are also with half the city.

Hearing stories about girls being sick and having to go out of their ways to fix something their boyfriends or sex partners got them was your daily stories.

So when you asked Kylian in a not direct way, he told you that he didn't needed that, he got those test every season and every six months thanks to the club.

> "I was thinking" you say, sitting next to him on the couch. "In this biology class I'm taking, they are encouraging us to get these test to now we are healthy."

"Really? what kind?" he asks.

"Oh you know, some blood ones, some normal check out to discard any std, any sickness. And my friends and I are a little bit scared of doing it." You show him the pamphlet.

"Scared?" he asks, a little concerned about you. "Is it that invasive?" he read what the test are.

"Not sure, just you know needles. They are taking their boyfriends and I want to ask if you want to join me, maybe?"

He reads the whole thing, looking at you with a smile. "I've done these tests. They are not that bad." he says. "Don't worry, take it from me."

"Oh, you have?" you ask, smiling. "When was the last time?"

He thinks for a moment. "I think before the year started."

"That's almost eight months ago." you say. "Don't you think that it's better if you get another one?" you say, batting your eyelashes.

"No, thank you." he says. "I'll get one when I get to the medical testing in Madrid. No need for more."

"But, you will do your girlfriend a favor."

"Let me think." he says, pressing his fingers on his temples. He pretends to think about it for a moment. "No, let's go to eat." he says, kissing your temple and walking to the kitchen. <

You met Kylian only six months ago. You didn't sleep with him right away, you wanted to meet him before even think about that. You liked him too much and didn't wanted to rush things.

You know that he was someone who got girls that wanted to spend a night with him. You read news about him "hooking up" with different models or influencers.

That he was flying them to Paris, when he was in PSG. Then when he announced the moving the news were that he was moving this model from Paris with him to Madrid.

You never cared about those things, you trusted him. He was someone who was very family orientated. He prefers to spend the night with him at home than to go out.

When he asked if you wanted to become official, you were thrilled. You love spending time with him, and not to lie but the trips, the gifts and the games passes were an amazing extra thing.

"I'm going to Madrid." You say to your friend.

"You are crazy?" she asks. "What about your job?

"I mean, a signed Real Madrid jersey will do for our boss." you say, writing the email. "Also, I booked him and his mistress some tickets for Hawaii, so he better give me the time or his wife would get the email with the information." you smile at her.

When your boss asked for not one but two signed jerseys, you booked your ticket. You knew where Kylian was living, you even have a copy of his keys for emergencies.

You grab a small bag, packing only a few things. You hoped that he wanted to see you. Your friend drove you to the airport, it was not a long flight. Only two hours and a few minutes. You will survive.

To you luck, you notice how the Real Madrid instagram is posting about the players training, so you have time to think about what you will say and how you would say it.

You have a copy of the pass for the gate, so you with no problem got inside. You tried to think about the situation, mentally hitting yourself for being that mean and dumb.

You know that the two of you were wrong, he on one side for forcing the conversation on you, even when you asked him to drop it in a nice way.

And you, for basically telling him that you didn't want his rabies that he probably got from his one night stands.

You sat down in the couch, tired of overthinking the situation. You don't want to lose him, not over something like that. Even when you basically accused him of cheating.

You were so into your mind that you don't pick the sound of the door opening and closing. You just hear the voices and tense.

He wasn't alone.

"Oh hi!" a dark hair boy says, smiling. "Kylian, you didn't told us you got company, we need more drinks."

You wave at him, a little shy to say something.

"Company?" Kylian asks confused. That's when he sees you, red cheeks and awkward smile. "Hey." he says, walking towards you.

"Hey." you say. "Hi, by the way." you finally say.

"This is Vini." Kylian says, pointing at him. "Vini, this is my girlfriend. I talked to you guys about her."

You smile at him. He still refers about you like his girlfriend.

"Nice to meet you." he smiles. "I'll call Rodry, he will bring more drinks."

You look at Kylian, trying to get an explanation so you don't look too lost. "We are watching a game." he says.

You nod, feeling a little dumb because there's people there and you can't really talk with him like you wanted to.

"No need to call Rodry." you say, standing up. "I'll be upstairs, so you can have more privacy."

You give him a small smile and walk a little fast to the stairs, feeling a little embarrassed about how your plan is going. You feel a hand on your arm, making you turn.

It was Kylian, he then moves his hand from your arm to you own hand. He grabs it, walking upstairs. He leads the way, you can't keep your eyes away from him.

He can feel you sight, he feels the need to turn around. When you two are inside his room he turn around, looking at you with this neutral expression.

You wait for him to say something, but he didn't. He wanted you to start. "Hi." you say, smiling a little. You really don't know what to say.

He want to laugh, but he remembers that he's mad. So he won't do it. You feel defeated, wanting for him to smile at your awkwardness.

"How long are your friends staying?" you ask.

You don't want to talk with him when his friends are downstairs. You want to be able to have a conversation with him and two be able to express how you feel without caring. You can't do that if there's people waiting on him.

"A little bit after the game, we have training in the afternoon, so we can stay a little bit later than normal. But I can ask them to leave right after the game."

You shake your head. "No, it's okay. I can wait."

"Vini did asked Rodry for more drinks, so you kind of have to get down at some point or they will come get you." he jokes.

"Maybe after the break." you smile back. "I'll take a shower first."

He nods, smiling at you. He walks downstairs, wanting to call the night off and hear you out. He wasn't mad anymore, just a little ego hurt. But he can't be mad at you that long. Not you.

"Rodry and Jude are almost here." Vini smiles. "Is your girlfriend joining? or did I scared her when I mentioned drinks?" he asks, joking.

"She's taking a shower, she will join us in a few."

You can hear the way they are screaming and cursing at whatever is going on at the game. You laugh when you hear one of his friends saying something in a very bad french.

The laugh Kylian left out is music to your ears. You sat on the stairs, not feeling like going down. You missed him, his humor and his laugh.

"No way these motherfuckers are only giving two extra minutes." Jude yells. "That's bullshit."

"Innit" Vini laughs, making fun of Jude's accent.

The other three boys laugh, making Jude curse Vini. The game came to an end, you know because the guys criticize the way the referee did and how the coaches did.

You got up, slowly walking upstairs.

"Okay, ladies." Kylian says. "Time to go home."

"We still have drinks." Rodry says.

"My girlfriend just flew in from Paris, pardon me that I want to spend time with her and not with your asses."

You stop on your tracks, wanting to hear more. You feel your heart warming up.

He wanted to spend time with you.

"Got it, let's go, boys."

"You own us one."

"I want to be with my girlfriend now."

You walk back into his room, smiling.

You regret not talking thing with him. You know that everything was avoidable if you would've been honest from the beginning.

You sat on the bed, watching the door carefully. You can't wait any more. The ninety something minutes you spend waiting for the game to be over were killing you.

The door opens quickly. You tried to act as if you weren't waiting for it to open. Earning a chuckle from you boyfriend. You feel the heat in your face, embarrassed of him discovering you.

He closes the door, walking to the bathroom. The door is left open, you can see how he's stripping his clothes. You fall back into the bed, not taking your eyes away from him.

He knows what he is doing.

You can hear the shower. You take a deep breath, mentally hitting yourself. You have to control yourself. You close your eyes, words repeating on and on and on. You know what you want to say and you will say it.

You are to into your thoughts, practicing how you will deliver the words, how you are giving him the message that you trust him and never doubt his loyalty.

You feel a cold hand grabbing you ankle. Making you open your eyes, you saw Kylian with towel around his waist, his eyes glued to yours.

You smile at him. "Hi." you whisper.

He smiles, shaking his head no. He wants to tease you, make you feel desperate. He takes his times changing. Picking carefully the boxers he would use.

You can tell what his plan is, and it's working.

He walks over to you. Sitting on the chair that's on the corner of his bedroom. "Mon cher, Y/n." he smiles mischievously. "What brings you here tonight?"

Your eyes are glued to his, you won't look down at his body.

You have to be strong.

"Don't you have a tshirt?" you ask, making him smile.

"I have tons." he points with his head towards the closet. "But the one I normally use to sleep is the one that you are wearing."

You blush, looking down at the shirt you took from him. "Oh" you say.

You look back at him, noticing how his grin is bigger. "You were saying?"

You sigh, knowing he's not going to give in. You sat back on the bed.

"I want to apologize, what I said was very out of line." you began. "I didn't meant to ever made you feel like I was shaming you for your previous sex life. Neither meant to doubt your loyalty to me."

He looks at you in the eyes. He can tell that you are being honest.

"What trigger your reaction?" he asks. "Was it something that I said in the past? Anything you read online about me?"

"No." you shake your head. "You know how my mom works at this clinic?" you ask him, making him nod. "Well, since I was a kid she told me about how girls that came there had all these problems. They came thinking it was a normal cold and ended up being something else, because their partners were sleeping around. And that made me feel like I needed to be extra careful with all."

"Even with me." he says low. He was saying that more to himself.

"You are the second person I've been with." you say, crawling to the edge of the bed, near the chair. "I felt so much pressure, my mom kept telling me about how I needed to be careful, that football players were always around. And not that I don't trust you, I do. But-"

"But you wanted to be sure you were safe." he finishes your sentence.

You nod, "I trust you, Ky. I do."

He stands up, opening his arms to you. He wraps his arms around your figure, embracing you into a much needed hug.

You inhale his scent, feeling better now that you explained everything to him. Not caring that load of always being alert.

"I'm sorry I was pushy about the subject. It wasn't nice of me."

"No, it's ok-"

"It's not." He interrupts you. "You asked me to drop it, and I kept talking.

He separates from the hug, walking over to his nightstand. He opens the drawer, taking an envelope.

He hands you the envelope. You take it with curiosity. Checking it to know what is it.

He did the test for you.

He wanted you to trust him. Even if that took a small medical check and blood test.

"I know now that it's not because you don't trust me, but because you are protecting yourself." He says, going back into the embrace.

"You didn't have to." You smile at him. "Thank you."

"If that's what it takes to make my girl know that I'm only hers, then I'll do anything."

You grab his cheeks, kissing him.

You missed the taste of him. The way his lips felt against yours. How his warm temperature mix with yours.

"I'm willing to try if you are." You smile, pecking him.

He smiles at you. The way his eyes got a little dark. You separate from him. Putting your arms in the air for him to take your shirt off.

"Je t'aime." He says, kissing your lips before taking the fabric off of you.

You kiss him to shut him up, pushing him down the mattress with you. "Show me how much."

[rainrot4me]

Take It

Summary: Nightmarish visions drive you to seek out their sender, constant paranoia driving you mad. But when you find out he intends to make you work for him, he realizes you can’t be broken like the others. So he must take a more… intensive approach.

Characters: Slenderman x Male Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mental torture, hallucinations, phantom touch, description of organs and blood, tentacles, eating out, overstimulation, mind-breaking, forced submission, dub-con, painful pleasure, masochism, gagging, choking, blood, tentacles, anal, stomach bulge, tearing, size-difference, suffocation, forcing, clawing, manipulation, kinda stockholm syndrome at the end

Words: 6.5k

A/N: This was my first time writing for a male pov! I hope it wasn’t too unrealistic lolol

It had been nonstop for weeks.

Visions. These crazy, nightmare-induced images continuously haunted your thoughts and dreams, leaving you nauseous every time you closed your eyes. Seeing dead family members, imagining noises and people that weren’t there, even feeling physical pain with no explanation. Sleep was nonexistent at this point, brain on high alert and checking every corner of every dark room you entered. You had no idea what was setting them off, sleep medications doing absolutely nothing for your new insomnia that kept you up into the late hours of the morning until you watched the sunrise. Quitting your job came next. Unable to stay awake and alert through a shift caused you a bad reputation, paranoia driving you to leave after imagining seeing a dead body in the garbage can. 

No matter what you tried: medicine, sleep, meditation, nothing calmed the pounding in your head. However, one thing was constant, a recurring entity that seemed to be the center of every hallucination—this grotesquely long-limbed figure with stark white skin. He was giant, towering over you and making you feel so tiny and weak, thriving from the fear it gave you. But the worst part of it, despite his rather nice suit and tie, was the complete lack of a face. His head was smoothed over, skin warping almost to resemble expressions but wrinkling and stretching against the muscles of his face buried underneath. Despite the horror, he was so intriguing, mind-wrapping around the concept of him. This figure always showed up in the corners of your vision, in the dark areas of a room or behind tall objects, like he was truly there watching you.

But you had to convince yourself it was just a trick in your mind, closing your eyes and breathing deep to center yourself back. Sometimes it was hard, body and mind under so much stress you felt like you were genuinely dying, but you always came back eventually. You were just never sure if that time would be your last. 

Dropping your groceries onto the counter, you pulled the fridge open, grabbing a bottle of water. You were scrounging now, desperate to use your money wisely to buy the things you needed now without a job. It was rough, losing a lot of the things you once took for granted due to your own mental decay. Having friends was out of the question now, your hallucinations creeping onto them as well and ruining any social ability you once had. For lack of a better term, your life was falling apart before your eyes. And there was nothing you could do about it.

Turning back to your groceries, you gripped the paper bags, dragging them to the edge of the marble counter, reaching your hand in. At first, you were confused, wet sludge touching your hand and pulling out quickly. Nervously you peered into the bag, eyes widening and throat constricting as you jerked back, gagging. 

The paper bag was filled with organs, thick blood coating the goopy tangle of insides as the sack tipped over, contents spilling onto your counter and hardwood floors. You retched, gripping the counter behind you as you forced yourself to look away, a lung landing near your foot. It wasn’t long before you were sobbing, the retched smell filling your nose and sending you hunching over, gagging as you clenched your stomach. It was everywhere, blood staining the floors as livers and kidneys slid from the marble and fell onto the ground with a wet slap. 

This couldn’t be real, this wasn’t. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply and trying your hardest to silence the screaming panic inside your body. The sounds and smells sent you reeling, sobbing into your hands as you tried to calm down, praying to whatever would listen to take your hysteria away.

As the smell dissipated, you peeked from behind your hands, stomach nervous at the sight you might find. However, apples and cans of food spread on the ground, rolling under counters and resting beside your feet. Breathing deep, you crouched down, sobbing into your hands as you tried to clean up the mess you had caused. Your mental strength was deteriorating, morale so low you couldn’t even bring yourself to care for your well-being anymore.

Googling the creature’s appearance was enough to get at least some information. This thing was called ‘Slenderman’, a well-known cryptic being around the area that was a big folklore agent. Most of the blogs you found circled a weird fan base, cultish intrigue following the lengthy being wherever it appeared. It was cringy, hysterical almost, but at least it gave you some sense of what you were working with. 

This creature was haunting you, torturing you, and you had to do something about it before it killed you.

-

The woods were dark even with a flashlight, dense trees blocking the view of the full moon overhead. Why you were out here, you weren’t sure, but it felt like a good place to start. Considering your visions, most of them took place in the forest, the tall creature always cradled amongst the branches and leaves and just barely out of view until he decided otherwise. So as you pressed through bushes and overgrown grass, it just felt right to be here, eyes scanning eagerly with every step.

You know you should’ve been scared, should’ve been consulting a therapist or a priest for these sorts of things, but your mind just wouldn’t let you rest. He was terrifying, sure, but your intrigue overruled any hesitation you might’ve had, beckoning you towards him. Maybe it was all a part of his game, luring you into a false sense of curiosity just to take advantage. But, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. You never feared a little game of cat and mouse. If this thing wanted your mind, he was gonna have to work for it. 

But your mental strength reflected poorly as you shook in your skin, heart pounding at every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig. There were no telltale signs that you were going in the right direction, having no clue if he would even be in these woods in the first place, but something in your gut told you he already knew you were here. It was like this weight holding your mind, a claw gripped tightly around your consciousness until it was suffocating you, dragging you down into the worst parts of yourself. So, if that bastard could do that, he could very well buck up and face you if he really wanted to. Taking a deep breath, you stopped, for no particular reason other than your pants becoming too loud and your body becoming too eager.

“I know you’re watching.” You stated calmly, but just loud enough for it to echo throughout the trees. There was no immediate response, just the subtle breeze wafting through the limbs and noises echoing back to you. It was unsettling, but you could feel something building, sliding through you unnaturally. It was calm at first, an irritating chill pushing up your spine and to the back of your head, throbbing gently. A normal person could have passed it by as the start of a headache, but you knew better, irritation growing.

“You’re real good at that, y'know? Hiding and teasing. What, you get off on it? Pain and all that?” You chuckled through grit teeth, flicking your flashlight off and tossing it to the ground, crossing your arms. The tension pulsed, making you flinch as you felt phantom claws curl against your insides, quickening your heartbeat. You hissed, holding your ground and examining the trees, searching for that familiar energy you had seen too much of. “Why don’t you come say hi?” You growled, digging your nails into your arms to stop you from gagging. The feeling was nauseating, mind tensing and swirling until you felt dizzy, cold energy running through you. He was here, it was evident now, but he hid behind your mind, nestled just between the corners of your consciousness just where you couldn’t reach him, couldn’t flush him out. It was torturous, but in some sadistic way, it felt good. 

Your mind tensed, neck craning as you rolled your eyes shut, pushing back against the grip. “Or are you too scared?” You smiled, shuddering as the tension pressed against your skin, faint phantom claws pressing against your back. Now it really felt good, teeth grit as you tried not to groan, back arching slightly as they slid up to your shoulders and gripped to your neck. Gasping, you open your eyes, dizzy against the dual sensations as your mind whispers a secret to yourself, begging to find the creature somewhere out here instead of just in your thoughts. “Please…”

Like a prayer, your eyes stopped, the sensation against your neck dissipating as you found that familiar stark white skin nestled just perfectly into the shadows. There was no difference between what lay before you and the image that showed in your mind, that familiar suit and energy radiating all the same. However, your idea of his height was skewed, his head almost reaching the top of the branches on the pine he stood behind. He was… huge. Towering almost an entire other person over you, your head barely coming up to his waistline as you watched him, your heart pounding against your chest as the tension in your mind gripped harder, making you groan.

He was several yards away, just visible enough to see his jaw twitch as he watched through a blank expression. You wanted to move, to press towards him and interrogate, but your mind was so numb, so mushy you couldn’t think of how to take another step. 

“Bastard…” You hissed, palms clenching as you glared, fighting against the nauseating feeling. Maybe it was the intensity of it all, the pressure and chilling sensation that crept all over your body, but you couldn’t stop your stomach from fluttering gently, thighs clenching together. Slenderman tilted his head in amusement, curiously watching as you felt the pressure creep from your skull down your chest, finally settling into the pit of your stomach. You hunched over, clenching your gut as you gasped, staring through heavy eyes at the lanky being finding amusement in your uncomfortable position. “Such a bitch… hiding…” You gasped out, stomach-lurching as you let yourself fall to your knees, jeans digging into the wet grass as you groaned, tugging at your clothes. You couldn’t compare the sensation. Almost like someone was digging their fingers into your gut, teasing and prodding at your insides until you were squirming and whining for relief. The one thing you could describe, however, was the irritable way your cock began to twitch in your boxers, curiously flinching to life. You tried to press your hands down, covering yourself as your bulge grew and pressed against your pants. 

Now Slenderman was really interested, taking a calm step out of the shadows and slowly towards you, clasping his long claws behind his back as he watched you squirm, desperate to push your aching cock back down. There was so no fucking way you were getting excited from this feeling. You were closer to throwing up than you were to cumming, but for some reason, it lit a fire under you, turning you on in some nauseating way. But as his dress shoes crunched against the wet grass closer to you, you couldn’t help but moan under your breath, gripping your jeans tightly as he stood in front of you, towering over you so tall you had to lean back to see his face.

He was bent at the waist, chest tensing against his suit as he breathed slowly as he leaned down closer to you, the weight in your gut growing the closer he got. “Fuck… Fuck you…” You whined, tears pricking on your waterline as he finally stopped, hot breath blowing against your face that seemingly came from nowhere.

“Interesting.” Slenderman chuckled, his voice smooth and low, every word laced with the undertone of a darker grumble, like two voices were speaking at once, overlapping each other subtly. You flinched, him speaking with the lack of a jaw movement making you uneasy, body beginning to tremble under him. “You have such a strong resolve. It’ll be satisfying to crumble it.” He stood back up, readjusting his tie around his neck as his bony stature swallowed yours. You wanted to snap something back, but your mind was cut short, swallowed by pain as phantom claws dug into your skull, piercing your mind with the nauseating noise of chalk scratching. You groaned out, gripping your head as you rolled your eyes deeply, whining against the feeling as your stomach rolled. The pain should’ve pushed your arousal down, should’ve scared you, but all your cock could do was strain, twitching with excitement the deeper it felt like the claws sunk. What the hell was wrong with you?

A crippled moan rolled from your lips, thighs tensing together as your knees dug into the ground, palming at your jeans for some sort of relief from the strain on your mind. Slenderman was watching, amusement gauging his features as he poked and prodded at you, infesting your senses. “So sensitive.” He cooed, putting pressure against your chest and stalling your breathing, forcing your lungs smaller than they wanted to be. It was exhausting, heart and mind running a mile a minute as you wheezed, staring straight into his expressionless face. “So fickle.”

“Why-” You managed to push out between coughs, head dizzy and congested with nausea. Slender pushed forward, reaching his claw out to wrap around your face, thin fingers enveloping your entire jaw in one firm grip, squeezing your cheeks close together. “You’re going to work for me. Your strength, your abilities, they’re all admirable. They would make a great asset to the little group I have,” He smiled behind the stretch of pale flesh, skin pinching into a strained grin. “I just have to crack that determination you so desperately hold onto.” 

He squeezed down tighter, claws digging into the sides of your head and making you whine, your skull feeling like it could crack under the pressure. All the while keeping your eyes trained on his smug face, flesh hot under his touch, cock twitching as you relished in the feeling of being overpowered, fear mixing with arousal uncontrollably. Your jeans pressed way too tight, sensation overloading you to the point of it hurting, begging to be touched as your sadistic brain ran rampant.

Slender took notice too, peeking past his arm and down towards your groin, spotting the obviously large bulge nestled between your legs. “Hmm…” He inquired, easing the phantom pains that pressed into your head and dragging them achingly slow down towards your legs, making your eyes widen and breath quicken. You tried to push back, reaching your hands to claw against his arm, tugging at his jacket sleeve and whining desperately. The lanky creature snickered, deep voice holding you irritable as the touch stretched down to your cock, putting heavy pressure against it. 

Groaning deep into the palm of Slender’s claw, you wrapped your hands around his arm, holding yourself steady as the phantom touch pushed down teasingly against your clothed cock. You nearly choked out a sob, pushing your hips up eagerly to create friction as your cheeks grew dark, embarrassment being lost in the relief of being touched. Slender watched eagerly, brows tensing as he hummed, mentally pushing and rubbing down onto your bulge. 

It was heavenly, eyes rolling and soft gasps muffling out, eagerly chasing the touch as it began to retreat back off of you completely. You whined, clawing at his thin arm until he let go of your face, standing back up straight. 

You had been so skewed by your hazy mind that you hadn’t realized the absolute presence of the creature before you. He was terrifying, sure, and powerful too. But you couldn’t act like you didn’t notice how powerful he felt, how easily he could mutilate or destroy you, but just how easily he could command and dominate you. It turned you on in the worst kind of way. You wanted to be angry, to tear him to shreds for the insanity he’s caused you. But as he looked down, crossing his long arms across his chest and tapping a claw onto his suit sleeve, nothing could stop your cock from aching.

“Stop looking at me like that, bastard.” You growled, sniffling your tears back at the strain against your jeans, clenching your thighs closely together for at least some friction, but more so out of embarrassment. “Quiet. I’m trying to figure out what to do with you, boy.” He snapped back, tension growing in his face. You wanted to growl, but more desperately you wanted to beg. Beg for whatever that sensation was to come back, to give you more. “Hm, I know,” He grinned, unbuttoning his suit and sliding it off of his shoulders, his white collared dress shirt sitting snug against his bony figure. “You can’t be broken like the others, it seems. You’re… in need of special treatment. Something that’ll break you in ways pain can’t.” His voice was low and husky, eagerness lacing his echoing voice as he rolled up his sleeves, tucking them up to his elbows in that hot way older men did. You were writhing, caught in the middle of terror and excitement, mind unsure of which one to pick.

But it seemed Slender was going to pick for you. As you leaned back onto your haunches, body straining, you stared wide-eyed as dark, slimy tentacles began to push out from his back, the lanky creature breathing deep as they caged around him, several veins pushing towards you slowly. To you, they blended in with the tree branches around, thick limbs curving and jagged like the wood of a tree, perfect for camouflage, you realized. But as they began to slink around you, cold warmth snaking across your arms and into the sleeves of your shirt, you couldn’t help but gasp, leaning into the feeling. It was so odd, unlike anything you could compare it to as they gripped around your legs too, pushing themselves under you and lifting slowly, stretching your body off of the ground as you tried not to panic. They held you tight, pushing your shirt up and into your pant legs, odd slime spreading across your chilled skin until you were moaning.

They worked quickly to tug your shirt over your head, Slender clasping his hands behind his back again as he watched, controlling the tendons to tug open your jeans and slide them down your legs as well, bulge embarrassingly evident against your thin boxers. “Wait… Woah…” You mewled, straining your arms to push the tentacles away but they wrapped around your wrists, holding them clasped together as they fully undressed you, finally slipping your boxers down and hooking off of your ankles. The night air was so cold, body tensing and shaking as you held suspended in the air, gasping as the slime slid scarcely close to your ass. “Where to start…” Slender crept, neck craning to examine every inch of your nude body as he pulled you closer, a large claw wrapping around your waist and smothering your hips entirely. He held your thighs, neck, arms, pale claws wrapping around them completely, easily holding your limbs in one grasp. But turning you around, suspending you higher in the air, your head dropped quickly, tentacles turning you upside down as Slender palmed at your ass, blood rushing to your face as he tugged your cheeks apart. “Here seems right.”

Wrapping his claws around your waist, he pulled you snugly against him, back pressed to his lower abdomen as tentacles repositioned, angling better to hold you in the right position. Your arms strained, grasping onto his suit for balance as you teetered upside down, bangs falling from your face and head already beginning to feel dizzy. Your heart thudded, cock hanging lazily down against your abdomen, bobbing in the air as you felt claws spread your thighs apart, asshole puckering from the cold. There was nothing you could do, no fight you could put up that wouldn’t result without you dropped on your head or thrown for distance. No matter how much your brain screamed at you to fight, you were forced to settle, forced to hold onto his clothes and beg your determination would hold out against whatever plans he had. Whines slipped as your head pounded against the pressure building between your ears, your face growing deep red as you hung.

Then came the cracking, the ear-straining tears that sounded from above you. Fear pushed you to look up, neck straining as you watched with intrigue as Slenderman’s expressionless face began to change, skin stretching right about where his mouth would be. He was creating a mouth, or better yet, exposing the one he already had. Shreds of skin tore open, pale flesh cracking to form a mouth as his jaw craned open, tugging the skin apart. That’s when you saw the teeth, rows and rows of jagged nestled inside of his wide mouth, a long tongue slipping out between the razors and lulling above you, already soaked in saliva. How was he able to conceal an entire mouth? How was he able to conceal that tongue? It was long, the muscle curling and flicking like his tentacles, wet and dark and pointed at the tip. You wanted to whine, to tug away and run. But as he slid his head down, wrapping his claws tighter around your hips, you moaned, cock twitching as he slid his tongue between your cheeks. It was cold, saliva spreading between your plump cheeks and pressing against your hole, tip teasing before continuing to wet the rest of the area. You were groaning loudly, hands gripping tight as pushing your hips back, aching for the feeling but oh so nervous as well. 

“It’s going to taste so good when you submit. When I break that willpower to resist inside of you.” Slender chuckled between laps, growling as he licked up your thighs, teeth knicking against your skin. You tensed as he finally settled between your cheeks, claws tugging your ass apart to give him clear access as he began to shove his tongue against your tight rim, giving you no time to adjust before he was shoving further. You were howling, back arching uncomfortably as Slender disregarded your body’s restraint, forcing the thick muscle deeper until it felt like you were going to tear, lower body screaming. “Oh my god-” You snapped out, teeth clenching as you forced your eyes shut, body straining against the thickness slipping inside of you. It was uncomfortable, pain snapping at your muscles but only feeding your cock to ache more, pulsing against your stomach eagerly as Slender growled against you, brows knotting. Your jaw hung lazily as he bottomed his tongue out inside of you, thick muscle straining against your tight walls as your rim stretched too wide. You were dizzy, being upside down made you nauseous now, brain pulsing between your ears. 

Slender was quick now, tugging his tongue out just enough to push it back in fast, clawing your hips back against his mouth, Lazily fucking you up onto his tongue, you moaned out loud, the wet schlick of his tongue moving inside of you echoing against the trees. You tried to resist, tried to hold your mouth shut and muffle your moans to not satisfy the cryptid, but it only irritated him, moving faster. His tongue curled inside of you, nudging against your tight walls and pressing down hard against your prostate, enveloping the bud wholly. “Oh, fuck-” You whined, hands clenching tight around his pant legs as his tentacles roamed, slithering against your hot skin and prodding at any sensitive spots you revealed. Behind your ears, curling onto your nipples, even wrapping tight around your ribs, anything to get you to make a noise. You tried to push back, to withstand, but as you clenched your eyes shut, the tentacles moved down, curiously sliding around your thighs. Tensing, you tried to clench your thighs together, Slender’s thick claws holding them wide and still, tongue continuing to milk your ass as you whined. 

You flinched when the tentacles slid around your aching cock, slithering around the girth and holding tight, slime covering the length and poking at your tip. Your back arched into the feeling, Slender grunting as he followed your hips, pushing his head forward back between your legs. The tentacles began to stroke your cock slowly, going only half the pace that the cryptid’s tongue was, gripping tight and pulling hard to milk precum from your tip already. You babbled, grinding your hips in time with Slender’s movements but failing as he read your body, speeding himself up. His goal was the break you, so he couldn’t let you become comfortable, needing to push your body further than it wanted to go. 

So a large tentacle pressed to your face, sliding against your jaw and shoving itself between your lips, filling your mouth quickly. You tried to relax, tried to take the tendon easily, but it forced itself in, shoving its way down your throat until you were gagging, throat straining against the size. If hanging upside down wasn’t bad enough, having your breathing cut by a large slimy tentacle made it all the more intense. Your lungs screamed, begging for air as the tentacle matched the pace of Slender’s tongue, tugging itself out of your throat just to shove itself back in, filling your senses with gags and slobber. Eyes rolling, slobber running out of your mouth, and body falling apart, you were already losing, already having to strain not to slip into some lost headspace. But even with the lack of eyes, you could feel his gaze burning into you, feel as he beckoned unfamiliar sensations and noises from your body. 

Your whines began to sound cracked, your voice high and pitchy as it gagged around the tentacle, vibrating around the intrusion. You tried to push, tried to pull your arms loose of the grip wrapped around your body, bucking your hips the deeper Slender probed his tongue, trying to escape. Every drag of his tongue, his tentacles, even his claws was becoming painful, overstimulation scratching at your brain as you cried, sensations becoming filled with nothing but him. It hurt so bad, the suffocation and the strain, so you couldn’t explain why a knot was growing in your gut, cock leaking desperately as it was tugged and swallowed in thick warm slime. It just hurt so good. Slender could read it too, pulling the tongue out as far as he could before slamming it back inside, curling it onto itself to stretch your hole wider, crying out as you felt your rim tear, blood pooling against the muscle. The sting sent you, body convulsing into itself as you came hard, strings of hot seed shooting down and onto your chest, eyes rolling into the back of your head as the tentacle stopped deep into your throat, nearly making you puke. Slender’s tongue rode you through your orgasm, relishing in the way your walls clenched as your cock fell flaccid, sensitive in his grasp. He slowly tugged his tongue out, groaning at the taste of blood soaking in until he was completely out, slurping up the taste vulgarly. 

He still had his tentacle pressed into your throat, your hands slamming down against him as you cried for air, slobber and obnoxious choking sounds getting so loud he almost feared you’d throw up. But maybe that would be good…

Deciding against it, he tugged the tentacle out, your lungs gasping for air as your eyes clenched shut and your face returned to a normal shade. The tendons slithered, repositioning to turn you upright, flinging your body off of Slender’s warmth and into the air, dropping you hard against the ground. You groaned, hunching into yourself as your body slammed into the cold grass, bare body wrecked by the cryptid. You were still gasping, chest heaving as you tried to wipe the cum from your chest, wiping the sweat from your brow. Slender seemed unimpressed, slipping his tongue between his teeth as he readjusted his button-up, refolding the sleeves back up to his elbows as he knelt down at your feet. “You can take more.” He stated cooly, standing back up and shooting a tentacle out, wrapping tight around your ankle and dragging you back up again.

You clawed desperately at the grass, pleading some unheard begs to stop as he slid another tentacle around your chest, pulling your eye level with his chest. You watched through heavy, tired eyes as Slender tugged another tentacle down towards his slacks, unbuttoning them as he slid his claws around your chest, pulling you closer to him. “I can’t…” You gasped, head spinning as the tentacle shoved his pants down, tugging his cock out. You watched in horror as Slender placed his length on top of you, nestling it beside your own weak cock and resting it on your stomach. It easily reached right below your chest, almost tripping your length when hard. It wasn’t normal thought, the texture and curvature more like another tentacle, but the rosy head already leaking told you it wasn’t just another tendon. Slender smiled rabidly, length twitching and pulsing on top of you as more tentacles wrapped your body, pressing and poking against all those obnoxious spaces again. “You will, boy. You’ll take it.” He snarled, tendons pushing you back as a separate one wrapped around his length, stroking himself as he crossed his arms again, watching you eagerly. 

You thought his tongue was bad. But as you watched his cock line up with your ass, you nearly screamed, heart pounding in your ears. You were so terrified, cock twitching back to life involuntarily as you watched his claws snag around your hips again, tugging you close as his head pressed against your asshole. He was going to tear you in half.

Slender groaned at your little panicked sounds when he finally began to push through, watching you as tears filled your eyes and your voice cracked with pleas of how it wouldn’t fit, how it’d kill you. He smiled, teeth glimmering as you began to stretch, rim catching impossibly tight the deeper he pushed, your body thrashing as a tentacle wrapped around your throat, clenching to alleviate your tension, but also to silence your mindless protests. Slender wanted to forfeit all restraint and tear you up, caring less if you ruptured something. But there was a science to this, a cool calculated way to make you fall apart, to make you want it more than he did. “Don’t fight it, yeah?” He growled, stopping his press when you began to gasp for air, sliding his tentacle across your cheeks and nipples to take your mind off of the sickeningly wide stretch your ass was experiencing. “Just give in already.”

Slender snapped his hips shallowly, just barely pressing an inch in more, but it was enough to make you scream, fists clenching and throat sobbing as you arched, the fullness making your head light. You tried to hold your eyes open, tried to fight against the pain and the stretch and keep your head right, but you just couldn’t. So, eyes heavy, you let your head fall, jaw unhinging as you went boneless in his grasp, cock snapping against your abdomen. Slender took the opportunity, pushing deeper until he caught on your rim again, growling at the tightness holding him still. But as he looked down, he smiled, a wicked chuckle echoing in your dizzy head as you peeked at him, and then down to what he was seeing.

Your stomach bulged, the tip of Slender’s cock pushing against your abdomen and making a clear outline for you to gawk at, eyes watering as you felt your body shake with excitement. You watched carefully as Slender slid a claw over top of the bulge, pressing down and making you gasp, tension building in your gut already. “You think I can get deeper?” You shook your head quickly, begging desperately for him not to as your body already felt like it was going to fall apart, overstimulation overtaking you wholly now. “I think I’m gonna try anyways.” You could’ve puked.

Slender tugged his hips back, replacing his claw back onto your hip and giving you a clear shot as the bulge disappeared, eyes wide as you watched him steady himself, tentacle clenching down hard around your throat as he grinned. He snapped back in quickly, length making it halfway inside of you before pushing against your walls, the bulge reappearing and making him stop. You cried out, back snapping as you cried, clawing against your own skin as your brain tensed, pain rocking you. You cock bobbed in the air, body straining as Slender hunched over you, curling his body to engulf you as he snapped again, pushing his cock in and out roughly. The cryptid didn’t seem to know the word gentle, claws already digging into your hips and drawing intensive amounts of blood, pale fingers coated in deep red. But the sight of the bulge pressing and retreating in your gut made you dizzy, throat tensing to scream as the tentacle found its way back to your mouth, shoving itself back inside as you gagged again.

Slenderman knew this was a torture method, a technique catered just to you to break your mind, making it easier for him to use you; as a proxy or otherwise. But as you cried out, cock twitching with every thrust of his thin hips, the cryptid found it hard to restrain himself, failing to hold his composure the deeper he pressed. He was supposed to be the one in charge here, supposed to break you and go from there, using you however he needed. But you just felt so good. The way you clenched around him, the way you fought but failed to disguise your secret want for the pain he was giving you, and especially how you resisted. He liked the way you tried to act hard but fell apart the moment he pushed himself onto you. It was addicting. 

Slender was panting, hot breath pushing from his mouth and brushing against your face, his nonexistent eyes baring into you at the sight of his tentacle choking you, slobber dripping down your chin as you cried. You were stunning, in the worst kind of way. 

Thrusting faster, you wanted to scream, wanted to keep yourself from tearing in half as he pounded against your walls, half words and babbles falling from your full lips. Slender groaned, pushing his phantom touch onto you and pinching your skin, prodding at your mind and body, sending you further into hysteria. “Break. Break for me, boy.” He snapped, trying his best to push more of his length into your tight ass but failing miserably as you went dumb, body hanging limp as twitching and aching at every hard thrust. You had no choice, nothing left in your body to push back with as you came, cock pulsing between your legs and cum shooting across your stomach. It was nauseating as your ass clenched, letting even less of Slender’s length enter until he was snapping his teeth, growling as he dug into your hips, rutting like an animal into you. “You wanted this, you want, you wanted thi-” Slender gripped as his tongue slipped from his teeth, hanging as saliva dripped onto your face, running down your dark cheeks. He couldn’t stop himself, fully aware that you were already beyond pliable, but his own chase for pleasure making him stay. If this was bad, then why did it feel so good? Why did he need to come so deep inside of your ass you’d be feeling it for hours?  He didn’t know, didn’t want to know, all he knew was to keep thrusting, keep digging into your hips until his own cock pulsed, tension building in his gut.

Slender growled low and heavy as he came inside of you, milking his cock with your tight ass as the bulge pushed hard against your stomach, a tentacle quick to wrap around and press down, making the two of you holler out. “Fuckin- Take it.” He snapped through moans, tongue slipping down across your face and lapping at your tears, teeth shining as they nipped at your hot skin. The cryptid stayed there for a minute, relishing in the feeling of you falling apart on him, fully submitted as his hot cum began to leak from your rim, speckling down your cheeks. You could barely breathe, tentacle retreating from your mouth and sliding against your stomach, mixing your cum against your skin. But when he pulled out, rim stinging at the tug, you whined, holding onto his claws as he pulled you off of him, letting his cock fall between his legs. “Boy…” Slender cooed, watching as his cum spilt from your puckered hole, the muscle tensing and untensing as you leaked, whining at the feeling. 

You couldn’t remember much after that, Slender’s tentacles laying you to the ground gently as he redressed himself, letting your cold body numbly shiver as your mind went blank, watching the leaves rustle above you. It wasn’t long before you felt his tentacles circle you again, scooping you off of the ground and covering you with his suit jacket, the fabric covering your entire body and keeping you warm against the night air. You wanted to push away, to forget this ever happened, but more than that, you wanted to sleep. 

-

You truly had no clue how you had gotten into an unfamiliar bed, let alone one in a mansion. The place was huge, with old architecture and a weathered feel surrounding you as you tried to move, sore body preventing you from doing so much as rolling over. But it didn’t take long until you were recovered, Slender appearing every so often to give you mystery food and water before disappearing again. You soon learned of the ‘others’, the proxies that were manipulated, much differently than you, but broken all the same.

You soon learned the purpose of your visions and the reasons behind the horrors you were experiencing. Slender wanted you, and he got you, traditionally or not. You worked for him now, mind pushed well past reason and compliant to his every command with the help of that pesky phantom touch. He used it well, touching you just enough to get you stirred and motivated, eager to please him. 

However, instead of horrific visions of organs and torture, you were met with vibrant flashbacks of that night in the woods, the reason you were even here. It was teasing, almost, like an invitation to sneak away to Slender’s office where the others didn’t dare go, where only you spent the quiet parts of the night. 

So, as you sat on his lap, tentacles twirling around your body and pushing into your lips, you couldn’t be happier.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[hyperfixiation-station]

Ghost Headcanons

TW: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, SA, abuse, canon typical violence. I got tired of seeing ooc Ghost stuff so here are my headcanons. (Yes, I know this is a repost, I'm sorry, but I heavily edited it so I am just gonna repost it) I'm so sorry. Starts off light, gets heavy under the break

All day Jan 1st it’s ‘I haven’t showered since last year’ ‘I haven’t slept since last year’. He may not be a dad, but he is the king of the Worlds Worst Dad Jokes competition. You've debated getting him a trophy a few times.

He prefers a quiet new years, watching the ball drop on T.V. as opposed to fireworks, (He humors you and Johnny though, and will buy a small pack for yall to set off) He's not scared of the sound, but the people and the being outside in dark in the middle of the night is what gets him. You're content with setting firecrackers off in the backyard.

He delights in the fact that his mask scares children, finds it hilarious. He loves Halloween, even if its not widely celebrated where he's at.

Says the oddest shit sometimes, like things that make you question his sanity. (aka you think the wind is ever tryin to tell us something?)

In a relationship he would be unintentionally emotionally abusive. And I say unintentionally because I don’t think he would realize how much he’s hurting you, because ‘it’s just words’. He would never, ever lay a hand on you, but he would 100% berate, belittle, and demean you.  

Don’t get me wrong, he would love you so, so much, but this man has a lot of baggage.(His father, Roba, Tommy, ect.) He has a lot of anger pent-up inside, and it comes out anytime you disagree, which happens a lot. He would be passive-aggressive and knows what to say to hurt you.

 He is so, so good a picking out your insecurities and using them against you. It was a defense mechanism he learned at a very young age, and it's one he's never grown out of.

He used to resource hoard(still does actually). At the beginning of his day with the 141 he would have stashes of food hidden away, bottles of water, articles of clothing. That specific aspect was trained out of him, but he simply moved his focus to people.

I don’t think he would ever have children because he knows he is fundamentally broken, but if he did, he would tolerate 0 disrespect from them. Again, he would never lay a hand on them, but yelling, screaming, breaking things is all fair game. 

He would love them so much, and would do anything for them, but again, he has a lot of trauma. He would love them though. If he’s home, he goes to daddy-daughters dances, talent-shows, plays, swim-meets, anything. If your kids are in it, he’s there. 

He would not be an alcoholic. He saw what drugs and alcohol did to his family, he would never let that happen to him. He hates drugs, and when he’s in the med-bay even morphine is pushing it for him. He never has more than 2 drinks when his squad goes to the bar. He will not be his father. 

Like I said before, he knows he has issues. And he tries. He really does try. He tries to better, he tries to not be so angry. He really, really does. He doesn't apologize, but he'll come home with flowers if he knows he really messed up.

Sometimes you wonder if its worth it, but then you look back and see how far hes come, how far you've both come, and you decide to keep working at it.

He shows his affection in gentle touches, clasping your shoulder, patting your arm, touching knees together. He’s fine with kissing, as long as it’s in private, and he would have sex with you, but he is not some feral beast. 

This man is not a sub. He would need to be in control, I feel that feeling powerless while having sex would trigger him, yk? On that note, he would not be overly sexual, in fact he barely even likes sex. This man was SA’d and tortured, and he def has issues with it. It took years for him to get comfortable enough with you to do anything more than kissing.

And that's all for now, let me know if you want a part 2, or if you want to see hc for any other characters or specific situations :3

[charliemwrites]

I’m going to continue obsessive Johnny on lunch break BUT I need to get this out because the smut audios are smutting-

Serial killer ghost who’s all set to kidnap you, torture you, and murder you. He marked you from the minute you walked in the bar and bumped into him. Mumbled something he couldn’t make out, and then got dragged off by your friends.

He watches you get drunk, nearly abandoned by your more outgoing friends. Sees you make your excuses and head outside. Sees you rub your eyes with a sigh when you see that your phone is nearly dead - no Ubers for you. No walking either, it’s pouring and you’re not dressed for early November.

He offers you a ride. You hesitate like a good, sensible girl should. But you’re miserable and tipsy enough to take the chance. It’ll be your last.

You climb into his passenger side, buckle in saying thank you and then grimacing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m getting your seat wet,” you lament. “Do you… have a spare towel? I don’t want to ruin it…”

“It’s fine.”

You hum and settle in. Tell him a street (but no address, too little too late, but good try). There’s music on the radio that you tap your little fingers to in your lap.

“Oh, by the way - I think I bumped into you earlier? That was you, right?”

He grunts an affirmative.

“I tried to say sorry but my brain messed up and I ended saying ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ and it came out ‘sarcuse’ for some reason? And then Addy yanked me away but - I mean, I’m sorry. Like, so sorry. I know i spilled your drink everywhere. If it makes you feel better, I think it stained my tights?”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just grunts again. You speak softly for a drunk person - like you’re too aware of how inebriated you are. You sit quietly, shiver a bit in the cool air of the car but don’t ask him to turn on the heat. Just sit and nibble on your lip as the lights pass.

When he’s one turn away from your street, you perk up.

“Oh, can I get you gas as a thank you? Or like.., a coffee or something? I know you’re not a taxi service so I appreciate the ride.”

There’s a gas station up ahead. Curious to see if you mean it, he pulls in. You hope out, fiddle with the cap and the machine, rocking on your reasonable little heeled boots.

“Ooh, do you mind if I run in for a snack? We barely ate before going out.”

“Be quick.”

You don’t seem bothered by his shortness. Leave the gas running as you trot inside. You come back with granola bars, a bottle of water, and a muffin.

“Okay I don’t know what you like, so if you want anything I grabbed, have at it.”

He doesn’t. You’re careful not to get muffin crumbs anywhere, holding a napkin beneath your mouth to keep things tidy. Fold it up and shove it in your pants pocket to deal with layer.

The gas tank is full. You smile at him as you buckle in again.

“Thanks again for the ride!”

Hes going to take you anyway but… damn it you’re too nice to die.

Next

Masterlist

[shysuccubusstuff]

Comfort with Sylus

Content: SFW stuff + boyfriend! Sylus + Vulnerable! Reader + Non proof-reading

Note: I just kind of love the option of the tete a tete cause he's just so sweet. I chose not to add an actual topic so thesfw reader was able to feel the liberty of imagining them telling him everything, I hope it was the correct choice!

You opened the door to your house, the sound of your keys left in the small table at the entrance. Today had been a rough day, moving from one side to another without even having a break to eat something. Not only that, but the ambience in your work was quite tense, with the holidays just ending, most of them were still getting prepared, with your boss constantly checking everyone's work and complaining about the most minimal thing, making everyone feel too uncomfortable to even rest for a bit. Just as you let yourself fall on top of your mattress, your phone started to vibrate, with your face still planted against the cushions, you lazily picked up the call, not even bothering to check who was calling.

"Guess who?"

"...Hello?" Your voice clearly denoted your current mood, as the voice on the other side quickly softened.

"It seems my kitten is exhausted, let me guess, a rough day in your work?" You answered with a deep sigh, the velvety voice on the other side making you relax, almost enough to get you to fall asleep. "I can't just ignore the weariness on you, give me a few minutes. I will send Mephisto while I get ready." Without allowing you to say anything else, the call ended.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard a small knock in your window, too lazy to move, you stayed there, your whole body still limp as you soon stopped hearing the knock in your glass. Sligthly confused, you were about to lift your face, when suddenly two strong arms lifted you up, the warmth of his arms making you feel even more cozy making you nuzzle against his chest as an attempt to keep him from moving away. "Oh? This is something quite rare, my kitten with her guard completely down." Before you could even think of a come-back, Sylus' hand started to pet your head with a slow and caring emotion, almost as if he was afraid of breaking you. "No need to answer, let me take care of everything." With that said, Sylus started to walk towards your bathroom, using only one of his hands to put the plug of the bathtub, then opening the faucet, to finally choose the bath products you always used, his arm firmly keeping you lifted as he did all of this. Sylus then let you sit on top of the bathroom sink, his hands slowly undoing your buttons, then moving to your lower half, carefully folding them on top of your basket of dirty laundry. His arms once again wrapped around your waist, your body slowly entering into the warm water allowing the tension in your body to loosen up bit by bit as Sylus allowed you to lay inside the tub. "Much better now, let me shampoo your hair." Sylus took the bottle of shampoo, opening it and taking a few drops, his fingers starting to massage your scalp as he hummed a song only the two of you knew. After he ended, he took the small bottle of conditioner, starting to spread it only on the tips of your hair. As he let the two of them act, he took the sponge, rubbing it all over your body with extreme care, sometimes leaving soft kisses all over your body as he kept cleaning it.

"Sylus, you don't have to--" Sylus stopped you mid-sentence, one of his hands caressing your hair as he hushed you down.

"It's alright, kitten. Everyone needs to be taken care of from time to time, just let me do it for you, yeah?" His honeyed voice got you to relax once again, allowing him to keep scrubbing your body clean, finally getting you out of the shower after he made sure to get rid of all the shampoo and conditioner, rinsing the water before he wrapped your body around the already warmed bathrobe. As soon as he got you all ready, he got you to sit once again on the small stool, checking to get your hair all nice and dry before he took you once again in his arms, carrying you back to your bed, not letting you down until he made sure to let you all cuddled in bed. After kissing your forehead, he moved away for a few minutes, searching around your wardrobe for some clothes he had left the last time he had slept there. As soon as he changed clothes he quickly entered the bed, hugging you completely in his homely embrace, his comforting scent causing your eyes to swell up. "Now, would you like to talk about what is bothering you?" You clenched one of your hands around the fabric of his clothes, a knot forming in your throat as you tried to get the words out of my mouth.

"I... I just-- I don't know, it's everything I guess?" Sylus hands kept stroking your back, not saying a word until you had gotten everything out of your chest.

So you finally did, you started to cry in his arms as he kept moving his hands up and down your back as a way to comfort you as you began to speak about everything that was bothering you, from the small things like not getting the sweet little treat you wanted to much bigger topics, with Sylus constantly reassuring you each time you started to doubt telling him some stuff, after all, maybe it was you just being dramatic. But he stood there, surrounding you with his embrace and allowing you to be as vulnerable as you wanted. After all, you were lying in the arms of the most dangerous man in Linkon city, not only that, but a man that would give up everything he ever got just to get you to smile once more.

[bubbleggum444]

—❝𐌋ITTLE MIƧƧ AC𝚃IVIST!❞

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, new hero!reader au, fluff + angst (n comfort), 3k+ wc. synopsis he knows all too well what it is like to feel like you don't fit it.

This felt so... wrong. Everything and everyone around ___ was just so frustrating, so difficult to deal with.

She had been an activist for as long as she could remember, fighting for what she believed in. But everything changed when she became a hero.

For better or worse? She wasn’t sure. No—oh great, Starfire just burned another tree down. Just perfect. Yeah, definitely worse.

Time and time again, this path hurt. It pulled at her, tore at her, like two different people were fighting for control inside her body.

One part of her—the old her—was someone who spent hours protesting, climbing trees to protect them, boycotting inhumane brands, and helping the vulnerable.

The other—the hero—was someone who saw, day in and day out, just how much destruction heroes left behind in their wake.

She knew her thoughts must have been tiring to others. Maybe even annoying. But she didn’t care. They weren’t her, and she wasn’t them. No one had the right to tell her how to feel about this.

Still, she could only bite her tongue for so long.

During a mission, Beast Boy casually tossed a used water bottle onto the street.

She hesitated, not wanting to sound like a nag. So instead, she simply picked it up, intending to throw it in a trash can.

Then she heard Garfield chuckle.

"Are you our new teammate or the trashman, newbie?"

Ouch.

Even the other Titans fell silent at the remark.

Her fingers clenched around the plastic, her vision burning. She didn’t dare look at any of them. She was too close to breaking.

So she walked away.

She hadn’t planned to. It was an impulsive decision, but that was who she was—rash, reactive. Always ready to act against injustice, even before becoming a hero.

She kept walking until she reached a park bench and collapsed onto it. The moment she was alone, the tears came. She hated this—hated feeling weak, hated that everything was finally catching up to her. The pressure of expectations, the weight of two halves of herself pulling in opposite directions.

It felt suffocating.

Like the disappointment she had seen in her parents’ eyes when she struggled to balance school and activism. The kind of disappointment that didn’t hurt physically but cut so much deeper.

A shiver ran down her spine as something cold wrapped around her from behind.

Whack!

On instinct, she swung back, landing a solid smack on whoever had just grabbed her.

"Damian?!" Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God, I’m so—"

"No, I deserved that," he admitted, rubbing his arm. "I came after you... I just didn’t know how to approach you."

Her chest tightened.

She hadn’t expected anyone to follow her. Least of all Damian.

She couldn’t stop the fresh wave of tears that spilled over, but this time, he was ready. He pulled her into another hug, and she let herself sink into it, gripping onto him like she might fall apart otherwise.

"There’s nothing wrong with being someone who picks up trash," she mumbled, voice still thick with emotion.

"That’s a decent, respectable job."

Damian huffed a small laugh.

"That’s not funny—"

"I know."

He tilted her chin up, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. His green eyes searched hers, steady and unreadable.

"I’ve noticed how much you’ve been pushing yourself, ___," he murmured.

"Stepping out of your comfort zone. Going against things you once believed in."

His hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.She held his gaze, her breath catching.

"It’s admirable," he continued, voice softer now. "And... I understand more than you think."

She swallowed hard.

She barely knew Damian. Out of all the Titans, he was the most closed off.

Yet here he was. In a park. In the middle of the night. Holding her. Comforting her.

Was it always this warm at this time of year?

Her voice wavered slightly when she spoke. "Meaning...?"

He exhaled, thumb brushing over her cheek like he was afraid she might break.

"Meaning I’ve been where you are," he admitted. "I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider. To think that no matter what you do, you’ll never truly fit in."

His voice dipped lower, carrying something raw beneath it.

"And it hurt deeply. I rejected those who tried to help me because they were different, yet I embraced the pain from others simply because they were my familiars."

The air between them felt heavy—not with awkwardness, but with something deeper. It was as if their hearts had silently intertwined, speaking in a language beyond words. The weight of unspoken emotions filled the space between them, their rapid beats echoing a conversation only they could understand.

She felt it. The way her heartbeat stumbled, the way something in her chest tightened painfully.

And she could feel his too. Beating, racing—just like hers.

The silence between them was fragile, delicate, like the moment might shatter if either of them spoke.

With one arm dropping to his side, the other wraps itself around her shoulder in a gentle side hug.

"Let’s go get some dumplings," he murmured. "There’s a Chinatown nearby. The vendors stay open late."

Slowly, she let herself relax against him, nodding.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let’s get some pho."

As they walked along the cobblestone streets, ___ let out a quiet giggle.

His cheeks kind of look like dumplings…

She bit her lip to suppress her laughter, but Damian caught it anyway.

His gaze flickered toward her. "What’s so funny?"

She shook her head, smiling to herself.

"Nothing," she said softly. "I’m just really excited for the food."

Damian narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. But he let it go, walking just a little closer to her as they made their way down the dimly lit street.

And for the first time in a long time, ___ felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t so alone after all.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

alsooo BB would NEVA be like this. I just needed a "bad guy" for the story :)👌🏻

[maroonshirt81]

For the tropes request, carcar Valentine’s Day?

thank you for the request <3

---

1,5k carcar, rated m for language

---

“What the fuck?”

To be fair, that wasn’t how Oscar usually greeted people when he opened the door. He’d been raised with better manners than that.

However, when the most annoying guy in his friend group—the one he might be secretly hate-fucking—showed up on Valentine’s Day with a bouquet of flowers, Oscar honestly thought it was one of the mildest possible reactions. He was still contemplating the follow-up reaction of throwing the door in Carlos’s face.

“You always make me feel so welcome,” Carlos said dryly, as if Oscar was the one being unreasonable. “Very nice to see you, too. Can I come in?”

Oscar was about to say no, but apparently, the question was rhetorical because Carlos was already kicking off his shoes and squeezing past him over the threshold.

“What are you doing?” Oscar demanded, trailing after him as Carlos made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Looking for a vase.”

“I don’t own a vase!”

Carlos had the nerve to shoot him a pitying look, as if Oscar’s attitude problem doomed him to a flowerless existence. Which was ironic, since the only person he actually had an attitude toward had just shown up at his doorstep with a bouquet. 

On Valentine’s Day.

“Why are you here?” Oscar asked again, watching as Carlos unscrewed the lid from his water bottle and casually plopped the flowers inside.

“I was in the neighborhood,” Carlos said, flashing a grin.

“You mean the flower shop down the street?”

“Exactly.”

God, Oscar wanted to wring his neck.

“So you’re just not gonna answer me, then?” he grumbled, slumping into a kitchen chair and crossing his arms. For some unfathomable reason, Carlos took that as an invitation to come and straddle him.

“I did not come to be interrogated,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You are a smart man. I am sure you can guess why I came.”

Oscar’s fingers twitched, but he refused to uncross his arms and pull Carlos closer. Not until he got a satisfactory explanation for why there was now a floral arrangement sitting in his damn water bottle.

“They stink,” he said, just as Carlos was about to lean in for a kiss. Carlos stopped halfway, rolling his eyes.

"¡Madre mía, qué mala leche llevas!" he muttered, flicking the crease between Oscar’s brows.

“I looked that up, you know.”

“Awwww,” Carlos smirked. “Are you learning Spanish for me, baby?”

The goosebumps Oscar got from that were definitely from disgust.

“You realize my bad mood can always be traced back to you, right?”

“Yes, yes.” Carlos gave a world-weary sigh. “Maybe we can skip the special foreplay for today, yes?”

“What foreplay?” Oscar gaped. He had never and would never have any kind of foreplay with Carlos. The very thought made him shudder.

“You know, the whole,” Carlos waved his hand, pitching his voice high, “Oh, Carlos, I hate you so much!” Dropping his voice two octaves, he added, “Oh, but still, you cannot resist me!” High again, “Yes, I can! Just… touch me while I list all the things you have done wrong today, and then touch me some more while I list all the things you did wrong yesterday, and then—”

“I hate you so much!” Oscar groaned.

“Did you not listen? I said to skip the foreplay!”

“It’s not foreplay!” Oscar retorted, in what he was embarrassed to admit might have been considered a screech.

“Yes, yes, I know!” Carlos huffed. “Can we at least speed it up a little? We only have an hour until the restaurant opens.”

“R—restaurant?” Oscar echoed, his voice breaking in the middle of the word. “You can’t be serious!”

“Oscar, this is getting a little tiring,” Carlos said, insistently pushing his hips forward. That was when Oscar realized his arms were no longer crossed. Somewhere in the middle of this conversation, his hands had found Carlos’s waist. Now, he used them to push him off.

“You must’ve hit your head!” Oscar said. “Really badly!”

He acted like he didn’t notice the genuine hurt flashing across Carlos’s face. Fuck him. He couldn’t just show up unannounced on fucking Valentine’s Day and act like they were some kind of couple! Oscar was feeling nauseous just thinking about it.

“You know what?” Carlos snapped, straightening up. “Fine! I prefer waiting outside in the cold to dealing with your bad mood, actually.”

And just like that, he jumped off Oscar’s lap, grabbed the jacket he had tossed over the kitchen table, and threw it on, zipping it right up to his chin.

And then.

And then he took the flowers back out of the vase.

Oscar was out of his chair before he really knew what he was doing.

“Now wait a minute!” he protested. “You can’t just…”

“Can’t just what, Oscar?” Carlos echoed, scowling at him with those impressive eyebrows. “You said very clearly you don’t want me here.”

“I… that’s not exactly what I said! But you can’t just barge in here like some kind of lunatic, with your flowers and your restaurant plans, and then leave in the exact same way when I’m not immediately on your level!”

Carlos turned toward the front door with a huff.

“You young people with your text messages and your allergies to spontaneity! When I was a kid, we had to go around the neighborhood ringing doorbells if we wanted to play with a friend!”

“What are you even on about?”

“Next time, I send you a calendar invitation when I want to suck your dick, yes?”

“You…” Oscar grabbed Carlos’s arm before he could open the door. “Wait! Can you just—give me a second to think? Don’t just…” His eyes dropped to the bouquet Carlos was still holding, and his sentence trailed off into an awkward silence.

“Hello?” Carlos said, waving the flowers in front of his face.

Before Oscar could think better of it, he grabbed them.

“Oi!” Carlos protested. “What are you—”

“They’re my flowers! You can’t just take them back now!”

Carlos gaped at him, looking genuinely surprised that Oscar had accepted the flowers, which begged the question of why the hell he’d brought them in the first place.

“And I’m not saying I’m happy about them!” Oscar clarified quickly. “But it’s really bad manners to take back a gift like that!”

“Oscar,” Carlos said, blinking slowly. “They are not your flowers.”

Oscar froze, eyes flicking down to a little tag wrapped around the stems that he’d somehow failed to notice before.

“The flowers are for my mother,” Carlos continued, as if Oscar couldn’t clearly read the “Mom❤️” sticker now staring him in the face. “Who I’m meeting at the restaurant in an hour.”

Oscar gulped. Then, feeling a blush crawl all the way up form his neck, he shoved the bouquet back into Carlos’s chest.

“Carlos…” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Do you have any idea what day it is?”

“Yes? It’s my mother’s birthday?”

“IT’S VALENTINE'S DAY!” Oscar exploded, smacking both hands over his very red face. “You absolute fucking idiot!!!”

“Ooooooh,” Carlos chuckled, like he was only just putting the pieces together. “Wait… so you thought…”

A seagull-like shriek marked the completion of his thought process, and Oscar seriously considered just slamming the door in his face.

“Oscaaaaaar!” Carlos howled, quickly scuffling after him as Oscar fled in shame, straight to the kitchen, to either drown himself in the sink or commit seppuku with a kitchen knife—he hadn’t quite decided yet.

“Oscar, wait! Come on, don’t be a baby about this!”

“Leave me alone!”

Oscar had reached the counter and unfortunately found himself in a dead end. Carlos came up behind him, dropping the cursed bouquet onto the table before approaching like Oscar was a spooked animal.

“Look, I’m sorry for laughing!” Carlos said, which might have been more convincing if he weren’t still shaking with silent glee.

“Carlos, take your stupid flowers and get out of my apartment,” Oscar hissed.

“No.”

Oscar blinked. “No?”

Carlos shrugged. “You clearly liked the flowers.” Then he turned, plucked a single rose from the middle of the bouquet, and held it out to Oscar. “Here,” he said. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I hate you,” Oscar said darkly.

Carlos had the nerve to wink at him. “I already told you, I do not have time for foreplay right now. But tomorrow, maybe?”

Oscar just glared at him in stony silence, but that had never been a problem for Carlos. He was more than happy to have a conversation with himself. Prefer it, even.

“Great, I will send you a calendar invitation this time. Check your emails.”

Then, as if this whole situation weren’t humiliating enough, he plopped the single rose into the now-empty water bottle on the table, grabbed the rest of his bouquet, and—instead of leaving—turned back to Oscar, taking advantage of an unguarded moment to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“See you tomorrow, yes?” Carlos grinned.

Oscar kept his face completely blank. Give nothing away.

Carlos was unfazed.

“Adiós, Malalechecito!”

And then he was gone.

Oscar stayed slumped against the kitchen counter for a long time after, staring at the stupid rose sitting in his water bottle and stinking up the place.

The notification sound on his phone finally yanked him out of his pathetic reverie.

Carlos had sent a calendar invite.

For a coffee date tomorrow.

With a sigh, Oscar tapped accept.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 5

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, smoking cigars, violence, angst

series masterlist │my masterlist

your relationship with logan is strained, breaking apart at the seams.

ever since your conversation the dynamic has shifted. you don’t want to lose logan, and so in the light of day you kiss and cuddle and he watches you complete your chores. he makes dry comments as you cook together and you talk and laugh over dinner. he carries you into the bedroom and kisses the insides of your thighs until you’re begging for him, clutching at his hair as he eats you out.

but in the dark, when night falls, so does the facade of your relationship. he still sleeps in the guest room, but you no longer go join him when he has nightmares. if he wants to pretend like everything is fine and doesn’t want to talk to you, you won’t pressure him to do so. you’re following his lead, and it’s making you both obviously miserable.

he hardly ever actually sleeps, and you know that - sometimes you still wake up to his screams of pain and horror. he spends most of his nights drinking, sitting outside on the porch with a bottle or two. you often find him there in the mornings, watching the sunrise, face pale and eyes lined with thick, dark bags.

he asks you to buy him cigars when you go into town and you do. he smokes them on the porch while you bring him coffee, grabbing the empty bottles of liquor to throw out. he mutters a “thanks” but says nothing else, and you return to the kitchen to eat your own breakfast alone, without him.

it always takes a few hours before he can shake off the lingering tensions and horrors that follow him at night, before he can really be a version of himself again.

he’s angry too, all the time. that feral, violent edge to logan that you’d noticed through his animal behaviours seems heightened now. his claws come out more, becoming a familiar sight. he never takes it out on you, he’ll walk away before he ever gets close to doing that, but he becomes destructive in his anger.

he punches the walls, claws piercing through the drywall along with his fist. but he always fixes it after, and he seems less tense when he’s using his hands like that. to fix and patch-up rather than destroy.

he takes to fixing things around the house, changing the shower head so it has better water pressure, repairing the old hinges on the doors to the cupboards that always creak. he builds you a new bookshelf as an apology - or at least you think it is, though he never says the words outright - after getting shitfaced and yelling at you one night.

and yet you feel so distant from him. there’s a painful ache in your chest every time you see his handsome face, a longing to touch him and kiss him and crawl into his skin. the physical proximity does nothing to alleviate your loneliness. you miss him, so much.

he’s laying under the kitchen sink, shirt off and tossed on the floor beside him, and you take a moment to admire him, the thin sheen of sweat covering his chest, the dark hair that you want to bury your face into.

you shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze and proceed outside. you have things to do, and there’s no use getting distracted by logan when you know it won’t amount to any changes, won’t make this thing between you better.

honestly, you’re counting down the days until he tells you he wants to leave, find his own place, start his own life. or restart, you suppose. you expect it to happen any day now, when he runs out of things to fix around your house and can no longer keep himself busy and distracted.

and then one night he returns home drunk. he’d gone out without telling you, skipping dinner together to go to some bar or another. you ate alone, hardly picking at your plate, appetite gone. 

you’ve never seen him like this and you wonder how much he must have drunk to get to this point, slurring his words and stumbling, a heavy weight that you struggle to hold onto, keeping him upright so he won’t collapse into nearby furniture. he has a half empty bottle in hand and you gently pry it out of his grip, placing it down on the nearest surface you can find, just to get it away from him.

he’s muttering words you can’t quite understand, talking to himself more than he’s talking to you, but it’s more words than you’ve heard him say in a while. you blink back the tears that threaten to rise on your waterline as he holds you against him, close your eyes to focus on the scent of him that surrounds you, the sharp tangy smell of alcohol lingering on him, cutting through his usual musk, cigar smoke and wood and him.

“i’m gonna put you to bed,” you say gently, because as angry as you are with him right now, as much as you’re trying to put distance between you, he’s still logan, and your heart beats for him regardless.

you lead him to the guest room, but he shakes his head and wrenches his hand out of your hold, stumbling towards the door to your room, to what was once yours and logans before he’d started fading away. breathless, you follow him, watching him collapse onto your bed, face buried in your pillow. he lets out a deep groan, wiggling around in your spot until he’s comfortable.

you’ve missed the sight of him in your room, missed falling asleep to his face and waking up in the warmth of his arms, the sound of his steady breathing surrounding you with a sense of peace, his hands tracing your face as if you were a work of art. you don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

“don’t cry - hate when you cry,” logan slurs as he reaches out his arms towards you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

it makes you cry harder, and within moments he’s holding you. you’re straddling him, legs bent against the comforter at an odd angle but you don’t care. he presses his hot mouth to the top of your head, a barely-there brush of his lips that has you warming up from within.

“shh,” he tries to shush you, rocking the two of you back and forth in a horribly uncoordinated rhythm, “don’t cry. i love you.”

it’s the first time he’s said those three words to you, and you wish you could have heard them under any other circumstance. not when he’s drunk out of his mind, not when you’re barely holding yourself together, not after weeks of hardly speaking. it’s not the right time - hell, it’s probably the worst moment he could have picked.

“don’t say that,” you tell him, voice raw, “if you don’t want me to cry, please don’t say that.”

“but-” he protests, “do you love me?”

it’s bittersweet, this moment you’re sharing. you can’t remember the last time he’s been so honest with you, so forthright with his feelings, and yet you can’t be certain he’ll even remember this conversation in the morning. you can’t be certain this will change anything at all.

you sigh, and hope that logan’s mutation doesn’t involve him remembering everything that happens even when he’s shitfaced drunk. you don’t want your first admission of love to be a sad one, but he’s looking at you with the biggest puppy-dog eyes, your logan, and you can’t leave him hanging, can’t just not answer. and you can’t lie either, he’d be able to smell it in your scent, to read it in the way your heartbeat quickens.

“yes, logan, i do.” you whisper, pressing a hand against his cheek, the scruff of his beard.

“why are you mad at me?” he slurs, and you scoff.

“because you’re pretending everything’s fine and you’re pushing me away,” you reply, “you don’t talk to me anymore, and i can’t read you like i used to. you barely show any emotions, you just close everything away. i’m mad because yes, logan, i love you, and that means i want to know what’s going on with you.”

“but ‘s better now,” logan protests.

you frown. he sounds so sure of himself, and you wonder how he could possibly see the state of your current relationship and think of it as better. maybe you were right, maybe this is all ending.

“how?” you whisper, “how are things in any way better?”

he buries his face in your neck, warm breath forming condensation on your skin. when he speaks you can feel the words more than you hear them, muffled as they are. “i was an animal before. a monster with no control. ‘s better that i act human.”

you laugh but it’s unhappy, “it’s not better at all. i want the real you, whoever that is, more human or animal, i don’t care. but i want the version of you that spends time with me instead of a bottle, the version of you where we can talk through our issues. because i get that things are different logan, i hear your nightmares and i don’t expect you to be the same now that you remember all those awful things. you’re traumatised, i understand that. but i wish you could try to open up, let me love you. don’t push me away. and i want you to love me in the ways that are natural to you, that make you the happiest, whatever that means.”

you wake up to an empty bed, the spot beside you still warm but steadily growing colder. you blink open your eyes, blearily, making out the dent in the mattress where logan had slept, the smell of cinnamon and sugar invading your senses with each new breath you took.

you find logan in the kitchen, wearing one of your little aprons, far too small for him, the strings barely long enough to meet at the back. the sight makes you giggle, silly and domestic as it is. he’s pulling fresh cinnamon buns out of the oven, and you fight the urge to look around as if someone is about to pop out at you. 

“want one?” logan asks. in your daze you hardly noticed him turning around to face you. “they’re uh- an apology. i used your recipe and i’m good at following the instructions so they should be okay.”

he refuses to meet your eyes, shifting on his feet, restless energy thrumming through him like he’s expecting to have to run away at any moment. before, you would have said that he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to run and hide when things get hard, always fight and never flight. it seems right for him, with his gruff demeanour and the violent edge to him. but you’ve lived through him avoiding you, running from his problems. you refuse to let it happen again.

he’s skittish, nervous even, and you take a moment to appreciate the sight. it’s lovely, gorgeous even, compared to the anger and depression and irritation that you’ve gotten accustomed to from him. but you don’t let him linger in silence for too long.

“an apology?” you repeat his words, placing your chin in your hands, “for what?”

“pushing you away.”

so he remembers. you wonder if he recalls every word you spoke to him under the cover of darkness, made brave by the thought that he likely wouldn’t remember, that none of this would come back to you in any way, or if it’s more of a vague image that floats around in his mind, edges blurred and sections of the night skipping through.

does he remember the way you told him you loved him, the words tinged with sadness and desperation? you weren’t expecting the sudden change of heart, the way he so easily said the very thing he’s been avoiding admitting for so long.

“you don’t have to apologise for that,” you say, though you appreciate it, “you were going through something. you still are.”

“i still need to apologise,” he argues, and you smile at the determination in his voice, “it’s- fuck- i’m not good with words. i messed up. i know that. but i’m almost two hundred years old, you know that? and i remember every single, shitty day of it. i haven’t had a good life, princess. i hurt and kill everyone that gets close to me. and i don’t wanna hurt you.”

you stride right up to him and he looks terrified when you raise your arms, but all you do is wrap them around his neck, standing on your tip-toes so you can press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his scratchy beard against your lips. his hands find a place on either side of your waist, the position so natural, so comfortable.

this is how you’re meant to be, in each other’s arms, not fighting or hiding away from one another.

“you did hurt me,” you say, watching the way his jaw tenses at the reminder, “but i’m tougher than i look. and i don’t believe that your past defines you. who you are right now, how you treat me, that’s what decides my opinion of you. although right now you’ve got some grovelling to do.”

he grunts in agreement, “i’ll make it up to you, darlin’. however you want.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[woso-dreamzzz]

Nena V

Barcelona Femení x Child!Reader

Summary: You're sick

It started with a little cough.

Ingrid didn't really think anything of it. Sometimes, you just had a cough. It wasn't really a big thing which was why she was so happy to leave you in Mapi's company while she went to do some media things.

Only, the cough seemed to be getting worse.

It started out as a little tickle in the back of your throat at breakfast and then got more and more scratchy as time went on. Your head started to pound too and your arms felt all weird and heavy in a way that you had never really experienced before.

"Hey," Mapi said, shaking you lightly," Are you okay?"

You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut. "My throat don' like me, Mapi," You said, squeezing at your neck as if it would help.

You coughed again. Your eyebrows drew together after it took you a while to stop.

From just outside your field of vision, a hand moved until it was pressed against your forehead.

Your frown deepened as you darted your eyes to the side. The hand belonged to Irene. You looked at her.

She was frowning too. "Does it hurt to swallow, Nena?"

You nodded miserably.

"Say aah."

"Aah!"

Irene moved closer so she could look in your mouth, frown deepening for a moment before she drew away and nodded.

"You've got a case of tonsillitis there, Nena."

You don't know that word but you nodded because Irene is a mama and mamas know things like this.

"Tonsillitis?!" Mapi exclaimed, her voice going very squeaky," Shit! Is she going to die? Do we need to call an ambulance?!"

Irene rolled her eyes. "She just needs some medicine and for you to calm down. Once Ingrid's back, you can take her home. It's not that serious."

Mapi certainly looked like this was serious. "Does she need them removed?!"

Irene laughed. "Not right now. If it gets worse or keeps happening then yes, maybe, but what she needs now is medicine and some water. Calm down, Mapi."

Mapi took a deep breath before panic flashed on her face. "I don't have kid's medicine!"

"I do." Irene pulled a little bottle out of her bag and shook it. "I was meant to bring it home for Matteo but I'm sure he can share."

You dutifully took the medicine even though it tasted kind of yucky and drank the water Mapi put in front of you.

Breakfast was easy after that but there was separate training for the defenders so Mapi had to hand you off to someone else to watch.

Tia Alexia sat next to you when she took a break from her gym session.

You felt better than earlier but still a little bad.

Tia Alexia checked your temperature like how Irene did and you leaned into her cold hand. She laughed.

"Careful there, Nena," She said," Don't go falling asleep on me."

"'m not sleepin'," You slurred, forcing your eyes open and squinting at her.

"Sure you're not," Alexia said, pushing the hair out of your eyes," But I need those eyes of yours open. Can I check your throat?"

Everyone had been checking your throat now. Irene did it earlier. Mapi did it a lot before she trained. Even Marta and Caro had looked at it for some reason.

It was routine now so you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue.

Alexia looked inside for a moment, nodding a few times before getting you to drink from your water bottle. She checked your throat again afterwards before she went back to her weights.

She kept looking back at you though, as if to check you hadn't disappeared or anything.

Honestly, you don't think that you have the strength to just up and disappear. You were content to be miserable on the floor with your scratchy throat until your next babysitter came to get you.

You missed Ingrid. You wish she finished her job so she could come and get you. Last year when you had the flu, Ingrid flew all the way back home to make sure you were okay. Mama didn't like that because she thought it was making you co-dependent or something but Ingrid and you didn't care.

Ingrid made the best soup and she had medicine that tasted nice, not like the one that Irene gave you earlier.

"What with the grumpy face, Nena?" Lucy asked as she joined you, poking at your cheek. "Why aren't you smiling?"

"Ingrid's not here," You whined," And I'm sick."

"You're sick? How come?"

"I just am!" As if the punctuate your point, you flew into a big coughing fit.

Lucy looked very worried, flapping her hands about like Mapi did earlier and looking around the room as if someone would save her.

Tia Alexia came back and wedged the straw of your bottle back into your mouth as soon as you finished coughing.

"When is Ingrid done?" She asked as you drank your water," Nena really needs to go home. Some cuddles and a nap would do her wonders."

"She should be done soon," Lucy said," I don't think she knows yet. I can go and check."

"No," Alexia said," I'll send Patri and Pina. You've still got a gym session to get through."

"I can wait with her until Ingrid comes," Lucy insisted, looking down pointedly at you as you began to scratch at your throat again," Do we need to give her more medicine? She looks uncomfortable."

Alexia looked at her watch. "We've still got another two hours before we can give her another dose."

You scratched harder at your throat and Lucy gently took your hand to bring it away. You whined a little, pulling out her grip. She was running warm. You didn't like that. You wish she were cold like Tia Alexia was.

Lucy was like a furnace as she sat next to you and you edged as far away as possible. You tugged at your shirt and kept having to shift around because your clothes were sticking uncomfortably to your skin.

Your throat was getting very scratchy again and you whined.

"Ooh," A new voice said," That doesn't sound very good."

You whined again and raised your arms.

Ingrid picked you up instantly, checking your forehead with the back of her hand and looking down your throat like everyone else had done.

"Irene says there's somethin' wrong with my tonsils," You replied.

Ingrid smiled, pushing your head into her neck. "That's okay," She said," How about we go home? I'll make you some soup and we'll have some cuddles."

"With Bagheera?"

"Yes, with Bagheera."

"Is your Mapi coming?"

"Mapi can come too."

"And I get soup?"

Ingrid laughed. "Yes, you get soup."

"Okay."

[lazyevaluationranch]

*pats askbox gently* there are more Thermoreceptors?

(I'm sorry ur dome was so hot; I hope its much cooler now!)

My bluff has been called! Hooray!!

I am not a neurologist, a biologist, or a scientist. If anyone with better credentials than "obsessed with emergent properties" contradicts me, listen to them instead.

Cell membranes include little portal proteins that open under certain circumstances based on the shape of the protein and let chemicals into and out of the cell. These portals are useful for all sorts of things: managing water and nutrients, sending messages to nearby cells, serving the whims of tiny intercellular cats. Science hasn't found the tiny intercellular cats yet, but we all know they're there; the existence of a door that can be opened necessarily implies an indecisive feline.

Some protein shapes open up if the temperature is within a certain range. This means that if a cell with that sort of protein in its membrane experiences a temperature in the right range, it will move some chemicals around. This is used to make nerve cells that send a message towards the brain whenever they experience a certain temperature.

Because evolution does all its best work the night before the deadline while on a Code Red Mountain Dew bender, the opened-by-temperature portal proteins are mostly copied from opened-by-a-specific-chemical portal proteins. All of them, in fact, still open for specific chemicals, which means there exist out in the world liquids you can put in a bottle that most animals will instead perceive as "a temperature between 8 and 26 degrees" So things can get a little weird.

Temperature-opening portal proteins:

TRPA1 Opens for temperatures below 12C (not air temperature, skin or body temperature, so you might be kind of in trouble when this happens). Used by hunting snakes to detect where heat isn't so they can find prey. Feels painful in an itchy sort of way.

This one also opens for allyl isothiocyanate. Many plants have evolved to take advantage of the existence of a chemical most animals perceive as itchy pain, especially horseradish and wasabi. Allyl isothiocyanate is harmful to plants, so they keep two separate components in tiny compartments. When an animal bites the plant, the compartments break open their contents mix to create allyl isothiocyanate.

"This plant tastes like itching" is a good defense against almost all animals, but some humans have taught themselves to appreciate the taste of itching.

TRPM8 Opens for temperatures between 8 and 26 degrees. Opens for menthol (peppermint, spearmint, wintergreen) and linalool (roses, orange blossoms, basil). Feels cool or cold.

"This plant tastes like cold" is a somewhat less effective defense against being eaten than "this plant tastes like itching" but it's a more widespread defense because TRPM8-activating chemicals don't harm plants and don't need elaborate two-part storage.

TRPV4 Opens for temperatures from 27-37 C. I'm not sure what this one feels like, or if even feels like anything, since it covers normal human body temperatures. Whatever feeling we get from this one, we're feeling it nearly all the time.

Plants do make a chemical that tastes like this temperature, and it can repel nonhuman creatures with different body temperatures: allicin, the flavour of garlic. Like allyl isothiocyante, it is stored in two compartments inside the plant, and combined when the plant is bitten.

Maybe this is why vampires abhor garlic. There is a feeling that, as humans, we always have. Something we don't notice, something deeper than touch. That feel disappears forever when you become a vampire, except those unbearable moments when garlic returns to you for a fleeting moment the experience of lost humanity.

TRPV3 Opens for temperatures 33-39 degrees. Opens for eugenol, found in cinnamon, nutmeg, bay leaf, holy basil, ginger, allspice, and cloves. Feels like warmth.

Plants with high quantities of eugenol, like holy basil and Japanese star anise, are sometimes sacred to buddhists because they smell nice and bugs don't like to eat them, so you can burn them as incense without worrying about all the little crawly guys.

Humans apparently think food that tastes like "warm" is comforting.

TRPV1 Opens for temperatures over 43 degrees. (The one I was experiencing in the overheated dome, which I had never felt from air before) Opens for capsaicin, the active chemical in hot peppers. Opens for the combination of temperature and acidity of fevers and infected wounds. This one we feel as pain, as burning, as flame.

TRPV1 says: Your flesh is failing, and your doom is very near.

Humanity says: This is incredible. We are going to breed plants that cause this sensation as much as possible, and we will spend thousands of years getting it right. We are going to dry this and powder this and flake it and grill it and ferment it and eat it with everything.

And when we leave earth and go into space, we take hot peppers with us. Without gravity, fluid builds up in nasal passages, and astronauts sort of have colds the entire time they're in space and can't smell food very well. But the Nearness Of Your Doom is not a smell and is not perceived by the nose, so - with their doom always on the other side of ten centimeters of insulated aluminum - astronauts can taste hot peppers. In 2002, Peggy Whitson, commander of the ISS, jokingly refused to let a replacement crew on board until they handed over the hot sauce.

We are a strange and wonderful species.

[scientia-rex]

Do you have any moisturization tips? :0

Oh DO I!

Listen, skin has two jobs: keeping you in, and everything else out. Skin has to do a lot of complicated stuff to make that happen. Skin is chock full of glands and pores and whatnot. There's dermis (deeper layer) and epidermis (shallower layer), and 99% of what we're doing from the outside is about the epidermis.

Epidermis grows in as layers--there's a bottom layer that has cells that will just keep dividing forever, and then the cells that divide off that layer will start getting pushed up towards the surface of your skin. As they get pushed up, the cells get flatter and more keratinized and eventually dead.

That "stratum basal" is where you have your forever-dividing cells. So when you start something like Accutane, you can't transform the skin layers above it--you can only start affecting the skin as it marches upward towards its death and flaking off, so you have to give it months to take full effect. And we NEED to have some dead skin. It protects us.

Skin cells have proteins that hold them to each other. The goal is to form a watertight barrier. We need to keep water in because we are basically bags of water. Different protein issues (largely genetic) can cause different skin diseases.

Our skin also has glands that make protective oils (forming a powerful anti-bacterial barrier and trapping moisture inside) and sweat (because we DO want to be able to get rid of water, but only when WE want to).

So here's the thing about commercial moisturizers: none of them can put moisture back in your skin. That's just not a thing. The very best thing they can do is keep further water from leaving your skin. This is especially important if you have eczema, where you stand a good chance (about 50%) of lacking ceramides, which are critical to forming the natural skin barrier. As water evaporates off the skin, it takes more water with it. We don't understand the other half of eczema. Psoriasis involves dysfunction of the keratinization process, which is why those plaques form.

So the best moisturizers are those that create a moisture barrier without evaporating more water off. Any moisturizer where alcohol is a significant ingredient is worthless. Vaseline, or straight white petrolatum, is the best moisturizer. It feels greasy because it is. Its job is to form a watertight barrier, and greasy chemical are a lot better at that than thinner, waterlike chemicals. Moisturizers with silicones, like Aveeno (dimethicone is the active ingredient--I know, the bottle says oatmeal, it's a liar), will provide a fairly robust barrier without as greasy of a feeling. Lanolin, from sheep's wool, is also a great ingredient for forming a barrier, which is why I like Neutrogena Norwegian Formulation. Natural oils like jojoba (the best of the bunch) can be moisturizing, but just FYI, they're a tiny fraction as effective as white petrolatum. Like, less than 10%. I'm too lazy to get up and find my Cosmeceuticals textbook to remind myself exactly how much. So if you want "all natural," resign yourself to worse.

BUT!!!! Your skin is not all the same! You have scalp skin, face skin, neck skin, trunk skin, arm skin, leg skin, skin around your genitals, skin of the palms, and skin of soles of the feet. And all of those can act different. So I can't say "apply Vaseline everywhere" because that might be too much skin barrier for your face--what if your face has oil glands that work perfectly well? What if we need a lighter, less occlusive moisturizer? That's where my personal hell was for the last ten years as I struggled to find a facial moisturizer I like! What if you have oil glands that are overproductive? You may need a totally different moisturizer than I need! No good way to figure it out except trial and error while paying close attention to ingredient lists.

Sunblock is also a good thing to have but as someone who doesn't wear it because a) I don't go outside and b) it always breaks me out, I feel hypocritical talking extensively about it. I wear "dad hats" (at least a 2" brim all the way around) and long sleeves while gardening. You should definitely still wear sunscreen, though. Do as I say, not as I do.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is a superlative thief.

He sometimes breaks into museums or other high security places just because he can (breaking into the Geneva Freeport was very cool ~ https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geneva_Freeport ~ he didn’t even steal anything!)

Anyway he heard through his favorite unsavory circles, that Roderick Burgess had acquired some awesome priceless "magical" thing a little while ago. Well Hob is nothing if not curious.

Besides, Roderick Burgess is an actively horrible person, stealing from him would be a distinct pleasure. Hob hadn't even decided he was going to steal whatever the thing was, but he was going to take a look,,,,,and if it was less magical and more "kill the world" then he would grab it and drop it off with the most trust worthy government type he knew. And Hob honestly expects it's a kill the world thing, since you know magic is not real.

Hob was NOT expecting a person, person-shaped thing, pissed elder god thing, enclosed in glass and iron. How a douchebag like Roderick Burgess was able to trap and contain an elemental force of the universe Hob did not care to find out, but he knew he couldn't leave it in Burgess's "care."

Should Hob be finding seething man-shaped thing beautiful; stealing things tends to get Hob hot, sure, but he doesn't think it's ever been quite like this. Hob hopes he gets out of this mostly still sane.

OOO this is a super fun idea!!! I just think it would be really fun if Hob is just doing crime for fun and because he finds it kinda... hot. He's absolutely not freeing Dream for altruistic reasons, no way... he's just got a reputation to maintain when it comes to thievery!

Dream is less than thrilled to see yet another human coming up to his cage, but this time... its different. There's a small tool which cuts a small circular hole in the glass and lets the air come rushing in. Hob also smudges the binding circle (in fact, he upends a bottle of water to wash away the paint completely). And with that, Dream can use the rushing return of his powers to explode out of the glass orb.

He's obviously glad to be out, but he realises immediately that his tools have been stolen and dispersed. Which is when Hob pipes up again, and offers his assistance in recovering them. Who better to track down stolen goods, than a thief? By the time Dream reluctantly accompanies Hob back to his car, leaving the mansion and its occupants behind in eternal sleep, Hob has already tracked down the bag of sand via ebay.

Dream is still skeptical, but when Hob accompanies him to hell and somehow manages to pinch the helm from right under the demon's nose... he starts to think that it might be worth keeping this annoying human around for a while longer. Even Matthew is impressed. Especially when they all make it out of hell in one piece, and nobody even has to play the oldest game.

The ruby is obviously problematic and Dream almost forbids Hob from coming with him at all. But Hob is adamant that he always finishes up his jobs. He heads to the diner with Dream, just about resists the urge to go crazy and rob everyone in the place. In the end Dream doesn't need his help, but it's kind of nice to be just hanging out anyway. Obviously there could be nicer circumstances for a date, but Hob is kind of feeling some kinda way about this particular elemental force...

And Dream is obviously struggling with the events of his imprisonment, but having Hob around is a nice distraction. Even if he keeps finding Hob’s hand rifling through his coat pocket ("how BIG is that pocket?! I got my whole arm inside!" "It contains a multitude of unknown universes. Keep your fingers to yourself.")

Hob settles for holding Dream’s hand instead. Which is even better, actually.

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝙏𝙧𝙮𝙣𝙖 𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙑𝙤𝙞𝙙

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends to Lovers, Exes to Best Friends, Hinted Exes to Lovers

Warnings: Mentions of physical harm to y/n (bruises).

Word count: 577

PART 2 HERE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 「11:37pm」 - 30 days or more was the minimum. That was the agreement made to ensure there were no hard feelings. Once the distance grew, you knew there was no going back. But you never really forget how someone makes you feel.

He had driven to your location to pick you up from an event being held by major Guild Masters. Wrong number. Right time, you figured as you could've swore it was a cab service you called and not his personal phone number.

Mentally cursing yourself as you stood beside him in the rising elevator, that bottle of gwasilju nears its end in your system.

"I already told you I called you by accident." You insist as he walks you to his familiar apartment front door.

Jinwoo's lips go flat while unlocking it, leading you inside. "Accident or not, I wasn't going to leave you there alone. You called, I came."

It was obvious he was worried about you. He managed to bring a jacket to wrap around you and some slides for your feet as he predicted they'd hurt by the end of the night. Habits like these were hard to break.

Much like him getting you a glass of water, fresh washcloths and towels, and one of his shirts to sleep in.

"Jinwoo, I'm serious. You don't need to do all this. I'm fine." You glance up to the ceiling. "It's not their fault I wondered off."

"Regardless, you're here now, so just ease up a bit."

He's always been so stubborn when it came down to you. You nod, stumbling somewhat to the bathroom, him not far behind you. Gently, he took your hand, sitting you down on the rim of the bath tub, massaging cleansing oil onto your face.

Jinwoo knew better, but he couldn't shake you. Your presence reminds him of a simpler time.

He continued your nightly routine, him leading you to his bedroom where your clothes were. "If you want, I'll sleep on the couch."

"It's okay, Jin, I just...this is hard on us both."

Right. Just months ago, you and him did this same song and dance. It wasn't fair how both your duties as hunters found precedence over what was once shared. He's snapped out of his thoughts as you began changing, not bothering to tell him to look away.

"It doesn't have to continue like this - what is that?" His question plummeted swiftly like a guillotine's blade.

You didn't budge, pulling his shirt over your head. "It's nothing. You know I'm careless."

"I won't ask again. Who did that to you?" He approaches you from behind, fingertips barley making contact as you wince. Purplish blue watercolor lined your ribs, tender to the touch, causing you to flinch.

"Let's just say it was a physical disagreement between guild members." You let out a harsh breath. "If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy."

"That's not funny y/n....you've probably had this for weeks, and you weren't going to tell me?"

"And tell you what, Jinwoo? The last thing on my mind was to go crying to you about my problems. You're not my boyfriend anymore." You choke back a lump in your throat upon exit of your sentence. His shirt now draped over your body. "No contact. That was the deal."

"Fuck the deal!" A line appears between Jinwoo's brows. "I never stopped caring."

That was it. The linchpin.

"...What?"

Please comment, like, and reblog if you enjoyed it

[kenziebluex]

Desert Rose x Renegade

♫ Lolo zouaï x Aaryan shah - Desert Rose x Renegade

Obanai Iguro - Kinktober 2024 Day 11 - Gags & Anal Beads 

Story Description: Reader and Obanai have been in a committed relationship for over 5 years. To add some excitement to their marriage, they have decided to explore new kinks together. They had both filled out a kink checklist when they first got married, but there was one in particular that they hadn't had the chance to try yet.

One afternoon, when there wasn't much going on, Reader decided to explore that kink.

Tags: Gags, Anal Beads, Riding, Anal Fingering, Vibrators, Multiple Orgasms, Hashira Reader

The house was unusually quiet downstairs for a Saturday. While you weren't used to hosting parties or having large groups of people over, there was usually someone visiting or wanting to hang out. You and your husband had been living together for a couple of years now, both serving as hashiras in the demon slayer corps. 

You were accustomed to going on missions and when you two found time to be home, it was often filled with visits from the other hashiras or members of the corp. While you enjoyed their company, sometimes you just wanted some peace and quiet. So when you sent a text to the group chat asking for no visitors today, you were relieved when everyone agreed. 

Tonight, you planned on making it a perfect night for you and Obanai. It had been awhile since you had one-on-one time together, and you decided it was a great opportunity to revisit the kink list you both filled out nearly four years ago. 

Which brings us back to the present moment. You were standing in the kitchen, taking a sip from a cold water bottle after feeling "parched." At least, that's what you told Obanai when you left the bedroom. 

You took your time straightening up the living room and watching videos on your phone. You even gave Kaburamaru his usual nighttime meal, causing the snake to look at you in confusion. He wasn't used to you being the one to feed him; typically, you were more of the cuddler and coo-er, not the caretaker.

It had been 45 minutes , which your phone alarm notified you, before you decided to head back upstairs. As you walked up the stairs, your nerves started kicking in as you anticipated what scene would greet you. Maybe 30 minutes would have been better than 45, but if things got too intense for Obanai, he knew he could use the button you had left within reach. 

When you opened the door, you gasped at the image in front of you. You wished you could take a picture and hang it up as a memento. 

Obanai was lying on his back with his hands tied down to the bed, using the same black rope that you had used for his feet. He looked stunning in all black, and you couldn't help but admire him.

The ropes were not the main attraction. The real showstopper was the black ball gag tightly secured to his mouth, causing drool to form at the corners. Despite the gag, you could hear him struggling and moaning every now and then. 

He was laying on his back, exposing everything including his hard, shaved cock that seemed to be eagerly awaiting your arrival. A small pool of precum glistened on his stomach, but Obanai knew better than to cum without your permission; you two had been together long enough for him to know the consequences. 

Currently, a small 5-inch vibrator was buzzing inside of him on a low setting, causing him to break a sweat. It had been 45 minutes since you had stretched him out with your fingers before leaving him alone with the toy. You wanted to release him from the ropes, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from his pleasure and didn't want to interrupt the main event.  

Finally sensing your presence, Obanai opened his eyes and turned his head towards the door. He quickly blushed and looked away, knowing that if he weren't gagged he would have a smart remark about how you were looking at him. Crossing the room, you ran your hands through his hair. 

"How's my pretty boy doing?" you asked teasingly as you glanced down at his throbbing cock, which must have jumped for the hundredth time tonight. Looking into his eyes, you could almost hear what they were saying: he needed more, he craved it.

You saw dried tears on his face and noticed that his eyes were slightly red; confirming your suspicions that he had been crying from pleasure before you returned to the room. Without wasting any time, you made it your mission to bring him to orgasm at least once before indulging in the kinky activity you had chosen for the night. Pulling up your nightdress, you straddled his waist, feeling his hard cock pressing against your entrance.

Not wanting to tease him any longer, you moved down until the tip of his impressive cock was pressed against your entrance. Obanai may be short in stature, but his length was anything but small. His hard member measured at about 7 1/2 inches and the curve of it was perfect for reaching your g-spot. Despite how many times you had been intimate with each other, you still needed a moment to adjust to the feeling of him inside you.

"Fuck, that feels so good," you moaned as you slowly took him deeper inside you. The tightness of your walls made Obanai throw his head back with such force that it hit the headboard. He would be making more noise if it weren't for the gag in his mouth.

Once he was fully seated inside you, you began to take control of your ride. Untying his hands from the headboard, you guided them to your hips, causing him to grip onto them tightly. You could already feel that there would be bruises tomorrow. 

"Move me, Obanai. I've had a long day," you told him as you wanted him to take charge of your movements for a bit. He gripped your hips before loosening his hold as he concentrated on finding a rhythm. But you were too impatient and started speeding up your riding, which caused him to thrust sharply into you.  

You noticed tears forming in his eyes and realized that he wouldn't last much longer at this pace. So, deciding he deserved some pleasure too, you slowed down and focused on rocking back and forth on his cock, hitting all the right spots. 

"Ahh," you heard muffled through the gag as he struggled to contain his moans. His hands found their way back to your sides, guiding you to bounce on top of him. You were still wearing your tank top, something Obanai always disliked because it meant he couldn't see your breasts as you rode him. 

When the pleasure became too intense, you felt yourself clenching around him, milking his cock. Your hands moved to grip his hair and you forced him to look into your eyes.

"Feel me, baby. I'm gonna cum," you moaned, struggling to keep up your movements and your composure. You could feel his eyes asking for permission, even though he couldn't speak because of the gag. His veins were bulging from his arms as he clenched his muscles in an attempt to hold off his orgasm. 

"Mhmm, you can cum for me. It feels so good," you gave him permission before allowing yourself to fall apart. His thrusts only lasted a couple more times before he released inside you, his muffled moans still audible. 

He moved his hips, arching into you as if he never wanted to leave. His veins were visible under his skin, straining with the intensity of his passion. Every muscle in his body seemed to clench as he reached his climax, and his face looked overwhelmed with pleasure. He looked sinful and ruined in the best possible way. 

You couldn't help but be distracted by how intense his orgasm was, but it only added to your own arousal. Your body shook as your hands found their way to his chest, using his abs for leverage as you searched for something to ground yourself. 

"Fuck," you couldn't stop the curse words from spilling out of your mouth. For the next three minutes, all that came out was his name and more curse words. 

Afterwards, you rolled off of him and snuggled close, placing kisses on his face and letting him nuzzle into you. It had taken time, but over the years Obanai had learned to let go of his insecurities around you. In the beginning of your relationship, he would shy away from any affection near his scars, but now he knew that you loved everything about him and there was no need to hide. Trust had taken time to build, but now he even made the first move to remove his bandages before you could ask.

You gave him a few minutes to catch his breath before lifting his chin to meet your gaze.  

"I'm going to take the gag out, but we're not done yet," you spoke softly, watching as he stuttered at the thought of what was coming next. You had talked about using anal beads during sex before, but never found the right moment until tonight. You made sure to prepare him properly so it wouldn't cause him any discomfort. 

Removing the gag, you watched for any signs of discomfort from him. Instead, he surprised you by pulling you into a deep kiss, leading to a passionate make out session. You let him take control as your tongues danced and he eventually pulled back, only to flip you over and grip your ass tightly in his hands. 

After hours of not being able to speak, he finally said "Hi" quietly after you two separated.

"Hey baby," you practically cooed at him, causing him to roll his eyes at your tone.

"I'm ready," Obanai said after a moment, looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. He was in love with you and his eyes often conveyed that, but this look was more vulnerable. It was a look of complete trust in you. 

That kicked things into motion. You moved down the bed and got between his legs, gently laying him on his back. After some thought, you decided it would be better to put a pillow under him for support. Obanai was cleanly shaven and the vibrator you had inserted earlier was still there, serving as a butt plug. 

Removing the vibrator, you lubed up your fingers and began to see how many could fit inside him without any resistance. Before you knew it, you were four fingers deep, fingering him effortlessly.

"Mhmm, that's a good boy," you hummed while looking up at his facial expressions. He was close to being completely lost in pleasure; he was always so sensitive when it came to anal play. 

"Here?" you asked, moving your fingers around slightly. 

"Yes...hah, right there," he said, holding onto your other hand and lacing your fingers together. 

"I-oh!" his sentence was interrupted by a sudden surge of pleasure when you picked up the pace of your movements. 

"Please," Obanai begged in such a pretty way that you couldn't resist giving in quickly; there was no point in hearing another please from his lips. 

"Relax, I've got you," you reassured him as you removed your fingers. Leaning up, you gave him another kiss before reaching over to grab the anal beads. 

They were the standard set with gradually increasing sizes. There were six beads in total, and the length was enough to cause concern, but the last two beads were particularly large. You were glad that you and Obanai had worked up to this and didn't just start with the larger ones.

You slowly inserted two beads into his tight hole, causing Obanai to let out a sigh as he adjusted himself on the bed. 

After making sure he was okay, you began to insert the third bead. 

"I- yeah, okay," he moaned, rolling his hips and savoring the new sensation. 

"Babe?"

"Mhm?" you replied, focusing on his movements. You couldn't take your eyes off the sight of him; it was something new and exciting. Watching his rim stretch open and close around each bead you entered was mesmerizing.

"Can-um...can I touch myself?" he whispered, continuing to roll his hips in search of more pleasure.

You took a moment to look up at him and saw that his member was fully erect and throbbing. It was leaking precum onto his lower belly.

"Yes, but no stroking, and you can't cum yet," you instructed, causing him to groan. You watched as he clenched his muscles again, trying to hold back from coming. 

"I won't...I don't think I'll last if I do," he murmured as he leaned back once again. Taking this as a sign to move on, you inserted the fourth bead. Obanai hissed at the feeling of it entering him; his body was doing its best to accommodate the beads while also clenching down on them tightly. 

"Jesus," he cursed into his arm before letting out a string of moans and whimpers due to the pressure on an overly sensitive area inside of him.

"You're doing such a good job," you whispered, checking on him as his moans quieted down, now muffled by his arm. 

"I-I don't think I can handle two more beads," he protested. From your vantage point, you could see just how hard he was, and you were certain that even the slightest touch would make him cum.

"Just one more for me, baby. Just one," you urged, wanting to see if he could take it.

"O-okay," he said after taking a deep breath.

With his permission, you slowly pushed the fifth bead inside of him. 

Obanai gasped loudly as the fifth bead entered him. His muscles tensed and his cock leaked so much pre-cum that you thought he had already finished. The noise he made was a mix of pain and pleasure. 

He moved slightly and it only seemed to intensify the sensations from the beads pressing against his prostate. His head was spinning and he couldn't focus on anything except the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. He couldn't stop moaning. 

Feeling full to the brim caused his cock to throb even more.

"I'm going to pull them out now, and you can cum for me," you said softly, giving him time to process your words.

Obanai's muscles clenched in anticipation as you pulled at the string once before continuing at a steady pace. As soon as the first bead popped out, he let out a broken moan and then opened his mouth in a silent scream. 

Before you could even react to his orgasm, his cock was pulsing in your hand. This wasn't the first time he had orgasmed untouched, but it was always a sight to see. 

By the time you had removed the final bead, Obanai was a complete mess. Covered in cum and panting like he had just run a marathon. He was sweating and his chest was red from the strain of the beads throughout the night. 

As you got ready for bed and cleaned him up, you couldn't help but feel proud of him. 

You wondered if he could handle a sixth bead.

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