#oh to be blissfully mindless

[darcymercurialisunofficial]

If Evaine wasn’t a transphobe then we’d actually have more in common than me and my dad do.

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They're Your Bodyguards (Royalty x Knight AU Part #2)

𖠁 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

❦ Based off this hc I had written a while back

Price

He upholds his noble promises, he wouldn't ever dare to wander too close into your life

With every string tugging at his heart, he restrains the overwhelming feelings, he remembers the oaths he's made

To keep in this way was dancing death's waltz

Oh, but your soft silhouette blending in the foliage with the aura of golden sun was refreshing like morning dew, how is it possible for the human heart to long for something it has never had? We dream of a haven, but is there hardly one on this earth?

He longs to have what is restricted, maybe what has been out of reach has always appealed to us, since children we want what is above us, as young people we crave what makes us feel alive, and in our limited existence we continue to search for it

It was all forsaken; what was left unsaid, the silent sentiment, the shared glances that were neither given nor taken, for nothing was accidental nor hidden between the both of you... only guarded

Ghost

Here is another fool, one who thinks love is a controlled emotion, have pity on him!

The only salvation he can be found guilty of on base of selfishness is imagining you imagining him, secretly he loses himself in fantasies of a future that can never be

He hath nothing but muted passion for you

And from the silence, is it possible to determine the outcome? It does nothing more but to hurt one's feelings, does the bearer more hurt than partaking in improper fantasies, for it is all in vain and a reaching for and grasping at the wind

In the end the happiest fool is miserable, the most disciplined king conquers nothing, and the bravest knight afraid of battle

What pain for nothing!

Soap

Not a word from your lips heard, not a touch felt nor a sensation given, but those eyes speak for the entire soul

This story doesn't have to be a tragedy, because no matter what it will never end the way everybody wants it to, "vivamus, moriendum est", but you'll let yourselves live blissfully

Nothing can stifle his silent joy, his merry face goes about all day desirous of crushing you with a million acts of affection

The mindless dialogue he recites, staring off into nothing as he finds your capricious eyes shining like a glow the lake flashes at the evening sun

He'll find beauty in your entire being and relate it to things because if one day, you find each other a long way off, the sentiment will remain and the earth will remember you and remind him

Gaz

What's forbidden only makes the temptation greater, hm?

With such yearning and softening of his eyes does he gaze at you, it's a feeling that's so heavy and present in the air it's impossible to ignore, an energy only igniting between you both

He's engulfed in dreams of what could be, but surely it's not all just a figment of his imagination, to a certain point you mirror his thoughts

The emotions that won't stop growing rise to the surface and threaten to breakthrough, ruining his discipline, yet are always present and showing through every act and small interaction with you

The brushing against one another, the whispers that want to turn into screams, the heart begging to be let out

Roach

It had been dawning on him, a premonition of sorts in the air since he started serving your family, as if it was destined to happen

Now as he gazes up at you from his head lying on your lap, your bodies hidden from view by the tall hedges and vines in the garden, he almost melts at the sight of you

Even if the weather isn't favorable, you walk hand in hand, free of worries for an evening or night, it feels as if the sky could be never-changing and the circumstance always right

And as he reflects back on this years later, he remembers it fondly, though now gone and far away from one another, he gathers these memories and wonders if there was no ending to it, would you two have kept laughing innocently?

He would let your name slip from his lips one last time as if calling you softly into the fading sunlight

Alejandro

Every time you cross paths after meeting and loving in secret it is like the morning after a heavy torrent of rain, you cannot hide the smiles breaking out onto your faces, nor the fidgeting of hands wanting to embrace each other

An impulse so strong that it can barely be contained when he gazes deep within your cherub eyes, your lashes fluttering as the shimmering sunlight reflects on water, this scene all too perfect

Curiously, he will gaze at you and construct the most beautiful verses he seriously believes he would have made a great poet

You're everything he's held dear, not only does he love tenderly but deeply, you hit every feeling spot within him unveiling a new world

Rudy

Oh, but he's so respectful, so contained, so true to his word, until he finds himself alone in your chambers, faced with an order he has the right to deny or be a little selfish

For once he is given choice and it is difficult to remember his priorities

How could he deny? When you're murmuring so softly, and you're welcoming him so well, making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter even if it's a false feeling only for a little while

He'll cherish that moment for a lifetime, because for once he's known what heaven feels like, smiling easier and more often

His mind drifting back to you, you're unforgettable, not just a fleeting moment but an experience

Phillip Graves

He looks curiously at what is before him; the kingdom's precious flower, and as he gazes he becomes entranced in a thread that with time will become too hard to be undone by a single pull

It starts out as a foolish act but soon grows into much more, but was he ready for what came with it? The yearning, the sensitivity and vulnerability he was exposing himself to?

With every look that gained new meaning and lost their playfulness, you became all too attached and duty no longer was first

Perhaps this was the beginning of your descent, your spiraling into doom and recklessness, crumbling and giving in to your heart who beats so wildly only once in this ephemeral sentiment

Makarov

The repetitive phrase that leaves your lips every time, "we can't do this" or "we shouldn't", always the regret setting in after saying you've let go

And frankly, he doesn't care nor does he care whether you completely let go of it or not, it'll be your stone to carry, not his

Just feel the pull between you, focus on the fact that you're in his arms right now, your royal attire loosely around your shoulders and your worries and responsibilities should be a mile off by now

Concentrate on what you feel, he's trying to remind you, there is nothing selfish in enjoying the sensations for a little while

Or is he trying to put his conscience at ease with these words he tells you? What a reflection of his soul they are, and what truth do they carry

Keegan

You find him deeply captivating and intriguing, you feel bad for having so much curiosity for him

In a room full of people and yet you always wonder if he's there among the crowd, and with so much noise in the world does he stop and listen for your voice?

So dreamlike were these short moments of delight it must've been a dream, you met only at midnight behind heavy velvet curtains that obscured all light

You could only feel with your fingertips and hear soft murmurs that you tried to memorize, you would later pray in your tucked corner of the room, whispering softly into your blankets that it was real

Someone felt for you and the memories had really happened

König

The brooding figure that wishes he had the privilege of learning about you without repercussions, without that nagging thought of it coming back to bite at him

To color in the blank spaces of unknown, wishing to reside in the intimacy of your heart and mind, to navigate what is familiar

The blossoming interest in you reflecting in his eyes, making you feel a strange sense of safety when with him, a calming feeling that you welcome too well when in his presence you find rare to recreate when alone

Not even castle walls could grant as much security as he could, they were old and empty, standing many years and guarding many families before you, it was only a false sense of security that had been handed down to you

But he, he was your own, your own to cherish and love for now and even if his love wasn't a family heirloom to pass down maybe that was fine, let yourself hold this selfishness close to your chest

Horangi

A gambling game he is playing, it's as if he has a thing for chasing after what is not secure nor certain, but that's what makes it appealing

He doesn't stick much to rules, if he does it's only for a short time until he finds his own way of doing things, he was never concerned with playing the game fair

So he's not hesitant nor does he shy from trying risky things with you, it's all a game to him

The momentum only increasing as the stakes rise and he finds himself almost tying his fate to you, wanting for once in his life a secure future he can be sure to have, to reach out for and receive

Nikto

The craving for something different and rattling came to you when you discovered his tarnished past

It was so different to what you knew, and maybe it was in that darkness and chaos that you found comfort, a world you wanted him to share with you, more intimate than any touch

More erotic and through-provoking were his shards of soul revealed to you than an affair, and his growing confusion at how easily he shared parts of him with you

A hidden memory arising from the depths of his mind, trying to show him how comforting it felt to be perceived for what you were, he wanted to indulge in it a little longer each time

He knew his desires and dreams wouldn't change a thing in his life, but this peace freed him from the chains that had been weighing heavy, he felt lighter and allowed himself to long for someone

[kbwrites]

Up In The Clouds CH. 3

synopsis: A bet’s a bet, now it’s Satoru’s turn to woo his bestfriend. But behind his carefree exterior what hides underneath?

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⚝tags: Satoru x f!reader, Satoru being annoying, but also... annoyingly cute?

⚝a/n: So so sorry for the wait on this, they got me workin' 6 days a week. #freekez

⚝wc: 1.7k

The weekend. For many it was a time to rest and recharge before another Monday inevitably rolled around. For Jujutsu Sorcerers, however, it seemed like the work never ended. It was nearing the end of summer, so cursed spirit outbreaks had slowed. And today, for the first Saturday in months, you didn’t have a mission assigned.

No classes either; you were blissfully asleep in bed. The sun filters gently through your curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Alarms skipped for the day so you lounge under your cozy blankets. You scroll your phone, looking through Shoko’s newest Instagram post. She always took the best photos.

Through your mindless scrolling, a sound interrupts the peaceful silence.

Knock knock.

You look up at the door wondering if you were just imagining it.

Knock knock 

“(Y/N)!! Hey open up~”

You groan as the voice from the door booms through the quiet dorm. You stretch your tired limbs shivering as your feet hit the cold wood floor. As the door creaks open you see your needy best friend leaning his lanky body against your doorframe.

“The hell are you up so early for, Satoru?”

“Early? (Y/N) it’s 12.”

You nod, eyes closing again. You leave him at the door walking back to your bed. As you plop yourself down you feel his presence looming over you.

“C'mon! I have a stack of pancakes with your name on it.” he whines pulling the covers off your body. Before you can even react you feel the space next to you sink. Satoru climbs into bed with you, taking a dramatic sigh.

“What are you doing?” 

“Taking a nap until you wake up.” He replies turning onto his side with a satisfied grin.

You squint one eye open to look at the man now sharing your bed, just inches away was his face. His snow-white eyelashes and hair tousled against the pillow. And his smell… a light hint of sandalwood tingles your senses.

A man.

In your bed…

Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the sight of him, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched you.

A rush of warmth spread across your cheeks, your mind racing. You were suddenly very aware of the proximity, the heat radiating from his body, and the way his breath lightly brushed your skin. You tried to act nonchalant, but the fluttering in your stomach betrayed you.

All at once every single muscle in your body tensed up. You'd tried to suppress the fluttering feelings you had for your best friend, but his presence so close, so intimate, made it impossible to ignore.  Satoru—ever the observant friend—opens his azure blue eyes to check on you.

“(Y/N)? Everything okay?” He says scootching closer to you. You catch another whiff of his delicious cologne.

Shit.

“Mhmm!” You lie right through your teeth, backing away from his closing-in figure.

He takes a moment to process, wracking his brain for what could possibly be bothering you. The shit-eating grin that appears on his face is all you need to know he’s figured it out.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N),” he teased, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. “I can’t possibly be the first guy to grace your bed… or am I?”

“Shutup shutup shutup.”

His hearty laughter fills your dorm room, how unfortunate for Suguru that he couldn’t be the first one in your bed. And how adorable you are all flustered.

 You cover your face with your hands, peeking at your best friend between your fingers. You let out a sigh of defeat.

“Okay fine, let's just go.”

Satoru always had a sweet tooth, for as long as you can remember. The only one who could really keep up with his appetite was you. Long after Suguru and Shoko would bow out, you and Satoru were asking for seconds and thirds. So of course he took you to his favorite spot, a cozy little cafe so you could load up on a stack of pancakes.

“These crepes are SO goood~” your friend practically moans in his chair, taking a concerningly large bite of his strawberry and Nutella crepe. You can’t help but smile at his goofy, exaggerated reactions. You dig into your pancakes stacked high with a mountain of whipped cream. He looks at you with a smile.

“So..” Satoru cuts another portion. “Heard you might be promoted soon~”

You nodded, shoveling pancake into your mouth. “Yeah, soon to be second grade.”

He hummed thoughtfully, taking another bite of his crepe. “Just be careful okay? Don’t try to do too much.”

You roll your eyes letting out a huff, you knew he was probably just trying to be a good friend, but you hated feeling underestimated.

“I’m strong too Satoru.”

“I know THAT..” He trails off, moving his crepe around with the fork. “I worry about you guys, s’all.” 

You took another bite, feeling his gaze on you. His eyes flickered to the corner of your mouth, where a bit of cream had gathered. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Satoru’s hand moved slowly, almost deliberately, to your face.

He brushed his fingertips lightly against your lips, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers were warm and gentle as they wiped away the cream. The brief contact felt electric, making your heart race. Satoru's gaze lingered on your lips, his expression a mixture of playful curiosity and something more intense.

He brought his finger to his mouth, blue eyes never leaving yours as he tasted the cream.

“You really are adorable.”

“SHUT UP.”

With bellies full of sweets, you and your best friend resorted to your favorite pass time.

People watching.

Well more accurately people judging.

“Why is it that girls always end up dating such creatures.” Satoru fake retches as you two see a pretty woman with a… questionable-looking man.

“It’s gotta be money right? He’s loaded.” You add with a smirk.

“Yeah either his wallet or his—Owww!”

Satoru whined in pain as his side is attacked by your elbow. You shoot him a playful glare before turning you attention back to the street. An old lady was crossing the street, her movements slow and deliberate.

“Whadya think she was like in her prime?” The white-haired sorcerer shoots you a sidelong glance.

She struts, clutching her purse, her ears adorned with dainty pearl earrings and on her neck a sparkling necklace. She walks with a grace and refinement you could only wish to acquire in your life.

“Probably had men fighting over her~” You swoon, imagining the elegance of her younger days. Satoru’s gaze lingered on you, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you daydreamed about something that was, quite literally, happening under your nose.

His attention snaps to two middle schoolers walking side by side, a girl and guy. The guy lags behind the girl, poking and stepping on the back of her shoes.

“What about them?” Your gaze travels to the two kids.

“Just boys being idiots as per usual…” You sigh leaning back against the park bench. The sun was almost past the trees, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

“I think he likes her.” Satoru hummed thoughtfully.

“Hmm? What makes you say that?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the gentle sway of the leaves in the breeze, the birds drifting effortlessly through the air. Anything other than your face. If he looked at you now, all the feelings he had been hiding would come rushing out. You noticed his reluctance to meet your gaze and wondered about the shift in his demeanor.

“I… have good eyes.” Is all he says before pushing his glasses up on his bridge. A pout forms on his soft pink lips, betraying his unease.

“Hey… (Y/N)?” His voice almost as quiet as the breeze.

“What is it Satoru?” You look over in concern.

“Do you… like being friends with me?” A hint of vulnerability graces the normally carefree teen's voice.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“I..” He trails off, still avoiding your gaze. “I know I can be a lot sometimes..” 

Satoru always had something to say (even when you didn’t want him too). Whether a poorly timed joke, which always ended up making you laugh or just a comment which you had to remind him “time and place satoru” but you always secretly agreed with. This side of him, which was obviously meant to be hidden away from you was on full display right next to you on the park bench. He never seemed to be one to care about what others thought about him, but the reality was he ONLY cared what you thought.

“Satoru..” You reassure, resting a hand on his thigh.

“You ‘nd Suguru are all I’ve got.” He chimes in softly. 

“And we aren’t going anywhere Toru.” You smile.

Satoru sighs, finally looking over at you, and when your eyes meet he feels an unusual pang in his chest. What started off as just another plot to get under Suguru’s skin evolved into something more at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to see you smile, over and over again.

 A faint blush creeps onto his cheeks, he turns away quickly, Letting out an exaggerated yawn.

“It’s late! Isn’t it late? Let’s go back to Jujutsu High.” He speaks quickly standing up.

As you walk side by side down the evening-lit street, you look up at the sky, soft gradients of twilight blue and lavender merge seamlessly. Wispy clouds drifted like delicate brushstrokes across the horizon, their edges softly glowing with the last whispers of sunset.

Satoru is uncharacteristically quiet his mind swirling with thoughts he hadn’t fully acknowledged before. You steal a glance at him, wondering what was occupying his thoughts.

“You know I can feel you looking at me~” He hums, a smirk forming on his lips. 

“Yeah yeah you and your freaky eyes” You tease, sticking your tongue out at your taller friend. The sound of your feet on the sidewalk, and the crickets chirping fill the silence.

“Hey Toru?”

“Hmm?” He says looking at you through his shades.

“Thank you for today.” You chirp, bumping your shoulder into his. He pretends you moved him, knowing full well you couldn’t. A warmth spreads across his chest at your words.

“Y-Yeah.. No worries.” he mumbled trying to keep his voice steady.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer at jujutsu high knew that this curse you inadvertently placed on him, was going to be a hard one to exorcise. He also knew.. that he had to be the one to win your heart, no matter what.

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taglist: @4evahevah @angelofdarkness2 @iangeeluv

@isishsoskdjsk

[babybatscreationsv2]

Have some mindless starkercest smut

...

...

...

Tw: incest, incest kink, breeding kink

Peter moans into his father's mouth. His fingers squeeze his strong shoulders, twice as wide as his own. Experienced hands press into the pillows on either side of his head as he pushs back up for more leverage to fuck him deeper and harder. Peter's mind is blissfully blank, nothing but a TV static haze of pleasure. And then Tony slows just a touch.

"You know," he muses. "This is the bed where I made you."

Peter squeaks when the words click in his head. His hands fly up to cover his face. His dad chuckles. "The very same. Same room, same bed. Some of those pillows are even the same."

"Daddy," Peter whines.

Tony leaned down and rumbles in his ear. "Do you want to know what position we were in?" He doesn't wait for an answer, but Peter lets him pull him up and turn him around. He's on his hands and knees, but a firm hand on the back of his head pushes his face down to the mattress.

"Just like this," he moans as he stuffs his cock into him again. "It's my favorite position. I knows it's yours, too. You're just like your daddy aren't you?"

Peter's fingers curl into the sheets. His orgasm is building fast. He whimpers as Tony fucks him, still pushing him down into the bed, angling his hips to hit as deep as possible with every thrust. The pleasure is so intense he feels like he might cry.

"It's just the right position for breeding, isn't it? Do you want me to breed you, Pete?"

Peter nods his head.

"Yeah? You want your father's cum inside you?'

"Please, dad..." Peter begs. The sound of his own voice gives him chills.

"That's just where my cum belongs, isn't it? It's like your body knows where it came from. This is the same seed that made you."

Peter cries out at once, his whole body tenses then relaxes, his cock paints the sheets with cum. Tony hums and purring moan in his ear.

"That's my boy. That's my son." He doesn't stop fucking him, not yet. "Gonna fuck a baby brother into your cunt."

"Oh my god," Peter moans. "Please daddy, breed me. Put your cum in me." He pushes back against him even though it hurts now. Tony leans over his back. He's hurried and messy as kisses his neck and scrapes his teeth over his skin. Peter moans and whines and then finally he feels it as his father cums inside his ass. Tony moans and pins him to the bed, rutting into his ass, grinding his hips against Peter's ass, breeding him deep.

"That's my boy, my good boy," he moans.

"Yes, daddy," Peter moans in answer.

[coryothesub]

Too Much

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / dom!reader

“This is too much, I can't…” Coryo exclaimed in a shaky, desperate voice. Tears running down his face, hair a complete mess, his shaky hand wrapped around his cock just before cumming hard and shooting his load all over your snow-white bedsheets.

His whole body was trembling through his orgasm as he sank down on the sheets, completely spent, broken and powerless.

You were watching him, sitting on the bed, resting your back against the pillows, your hand between your thighs lazily playing with your clit.

The sight of him falling apart for the second time in a row was incredibly arousing, and you were already moist, but not completely satisfied. You needed your release so badly therefore you had no choice but torture him some more.

“Coryo, c’mere!” you instructed.

Coryo raised his head and looked back at you, eyes glossy, you noticed that his lower lip was trembling.

“Mommy please, I can't do this anymore,” he whined.

“So you want to leave me wanting and dry?” you raised your eyebrow realizing it was time to switch on the manipulation mode. “Good boys never do that.”

“No, no, I just… It's too sensitive,” he got on his knees and crawled to the other side of the bed, settling himself between your legs. So sweet and vulnerable.

You brushed a sweaty curl off his glistening forehead, and gave him a soft kiss.

“It's okay baby, I will help you.”

You wrapped your hand around his flaccid cock and brushed your thumb over the bright pink tip. Coryo let out a sharp whimper and you noticed another tear breaking free from the corner of his eye. You leaned forward and kissed it away, salty liquid teasing your lips.

“Was it too much?” you asked, peppering Coryo’s cheeks with soft kisses. 

Coryo nodded.

“Mommy's pussy will feel so warm and good around you, we just need to get you ready, okay?” 

“I know you have another one in you. You're always such a good boy for me,” you hummed, pumping his cock slowly.

Coryo's icy blue eyes took in your facial expression as you looked at him with softness and affection. You felt his member growing big and hard in your hand.

“You're so good for me, angel, such a good boy, holding on so well.”

You kissed his neck harshly causing a whimper to escape his lips. You could see a pink blotch on the soft pale skin, knowing it would leave a purple mark later. You smirked to yourself. Everyone will see that he’s yours.

Coryo's head fell on your shoulder. You caressed his cheek gently and guided him further down. He peppered kisses along your collarbone, then wrapped his lips around your nipple and started sucking hungrily.

You settled yourself above his now hard cock and inserted the tip in your wet warmth, gasping sharply at the sensation. 

Coryo sucked your titties humming blissfully, he looked so happy and calm. You caressed his messy hair, establishing an easy pace sliding up and down his overstimulated dick.

You threw your head back and moaned into the air as your warm, wet pussy embraced his impressive length.

Coryo's breath sped up, you could feel it warm and impetuous against your nipples, hard and sensitive from his saliva mixed with the cool air.

He looked up at your face adoringly.

“Mommy, this feels so good. Your pussy feels so good around me.”

“You're doing great, angel. Look at you, barely holding on, but still letting me fuck my cunt on your gorgeous cock. Such a good babyboy.”

You showered him with praise and put your titty back in his mouth.

He was rocking his hips up softly, mindless and happy, enjoying your warm cunt clenching around him while sucking on your titties happily. It felt so good, the euphoric feeling of arousal took over his body again although a few moments ago he thought it to be impossible.

You were so tight around him, moaning and panting, finally nearing your own release. You wrapped your arms tightly around his fragile frame, sinking your face into his hair and breathing in his sweet rosy scent as you came hard around his cock.

“Oh, Coryo!” you moaned, eyes closed in pleasure.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum! Again…” Coryo whispered against your skin as he finally came inside you, filling you with long awaited warmth.

Still hugging him tightly you let him collapse on you, panting softly, his now soft dick still inside you. He was too exhausted to even pull it out.

He looked at you, eyes were full of tears, but his lips adorned a radiant smile.

“I did it, mommy!”

“You did good, babyboy. So good. Only you can make me feel like this.”

[stayfortwominutes]

💭 reaction | lee know & changbin (part one)

prompt; "what do you need?" "... a kiss"

disclaimers; written in second person perspective, very amateur descriptions of kissing, no depictions of the members' personalities, actions or thoughts reflect their true character.

pairing; SKZ members x gender neutral reader

content; fluff, comfort, slightly suggestive*, established relationships | total word count; 1.1 k

related; part two ー hyunjin & seungmin

member; lee know (minho) | wc. 490+

a spirit of festivity kindled to life as the delightful aroma of cinnamon, ginger and honey wafted through the kitchen of your cosy apartment. basking in the serenity of each other’s presence was the perfect way to spend your weekend after a stressful week at your work.

perched upon the counter, you read the recipe as minho precisely measured each portion of flour, butter, sugar, and the necessary spices. he asked you to help combine the dry ingredients, knowing the mindless task would help reduce your mind’s unyielding chatter, diverting your attention to the task at hand. minho had developed a wondrous sixth sense about you, pinpointing the precise moments when you were need of respite before you would ever admit it.

as the two of you shaped the biscuits, you conversed through your respective weeks: you were inundated with more work than you were being paid for, whilst minho delved into details from his new dance routines and funny stories between him and the boys.

carefully placing the tray into the oven, minho took to cleaning the dishes. he insisted on an impromptu karaoke session, which you happily obliged, using a spare spatula as a makeshift microphone, and spontaneously pointing it in his direction as you rearranged your favourite songs into a couple’s duet. the sounds of laughter, music and the hint of spices danced in the air to create a blissfully domestic atmosphere that deliquesced your week’s worries.

ding.

the oven timer signalling its end snaps the two of you from your blithe bubble.

“oh, i forgot the most important thing…” minho muses aloud.

“what do you need?” you move to shuffle yourself off the counter, but minho is quick to hinder your path. he stands in between your knees, hands resting on the marble surface below, at either side of your thighs.

“…a kiss,” he breathes, before interlocking his lips with yours.

his hands come up, one placed behind your neck, and the other finding itself comfortably in the small of your back under your shirt.

the kiss begins slowly, the initial contact feathery, as he takes in your surprise. you immediately melt into his touch, your hands encircle his waist, pulling him closer and pressing your chest to his. you sigh in euphoria, and minho tenderly captures your lips again with his. his warm hands lovingly draw soothing patterns against your skin.

you reluctantly let minho pull back. he rests his forehead against yours.

“love, that's my secret ingredient,” he whispers. his plump reddened lips forming into a coy smile.

“i better take the biscuits out to rest.” the tips of minho's ears flushed red as splashes of pink burnt your cheeks.

now invested in minho’s mischief, you hook a finger in his collar to lure him back into your hold.

“forget the biscuits,” you mutter against his lips, feeling him smile into the kiss.

the two of you were soon lost indulging in the sweet, decadent taste of one another.

member; changbin | wc. 620+

you sit on your couch, observing your boyfriend as he paces back and forth, up the hall and then down to the entryway.

“i didn’t want to be alone today,” changbin whines. his gym session was cut vexingly short after chan and han had been summoned back to the company for a last-minute schedule. although not entirely a fan of exercising yourself, you sympathise and endeavour to offer him some motivation.

“how about we do some exercise together? you can do some sit-ups and i’ll hold onto your legs!” you chirp, conjuring up a cheeky method to motive him. he steadfastly moves the coffee table to the side of the room, and rolls out a thick, cushioned yoga mat.

“won’t be a moment!” you call, sauntering to the bedroom, to don a sweatband, before quickly slathering on a generous layer of changbin’s favourite lip balm: strawberry.

you briskly return and settle yourself with him on the mat in the centre of your living room floor.

“alright,” you begin, lacing your arms together underneath his calves, “before we start, i need you to do something for me.”

“what do you need?” he queries with slight perplexity.

“a kiss.”

“for every five sit ups, i’ll grant one kiss.” the apples of your cheeks round proudly. changbin holds your gaze, as the edges of his mouth begin to turn upwards in favour of your proposition, his demeanour brightening.

“deal!” he exclaims with refound vigour.

the kisses are simple, soft pecks. changbin was still engrossed in fulfilling his quotidian routine, but once he grazed your bottom lip, and recognised the familiar strawberry balm, his mind short circuited.

the next couple of kisses, he grew impatient, hastily pulling up and leaning even impossibly closer to you; lingering to enjoy a moment’s longer taste. you ease back, swatting kittenishly at a rogue hand that comes to cup your cheek.

“play nice,” you facetiously scold.

several more sets of sit-ups pass by, and changbin sheepishly obeys, his lips practically ghosting over yours.

you became crescively enamoured by the scene before you. changbin’s biceps flexed in complete glory as he continued his routine. the plump, porcelain skin an inviting site for just one small bite.

you plunge forward as he comes up; a resounding yelp emits from him. his arms no longer bent at the sides of his head, as he rubs at the glistening, red-tinged indent of your teeth that imprint just below his shoulder.

“what did you just do?” changbin stares back at you, a look of disbelief growing on his face as his mouth hangs agape and his brows start to furrow.

you stumble back, stifling a chuckle of satisfaction. “they looked so biteable.”

“you’ve got biteable biceps, baby.” you croon nonsensically.

“mmm, yummy." you hold your hands up in front of you as you curl your fingers in to mimic claws. a deviously glint twinkles in your eyes.

changbin reciprocates your sprightly behaviour, and nimbly tackles you down onto the mat. his fingers tickling mercilessly at the sides of your torso causing you to writhe underneath him in a fit of giggles. with his elated mood, he peppers kisses from your temples to your cheeks, and along your jaw.

then, a light bulb switches on in his mind, and he halts. continuing to hover over you, the look in his eyes slightly darkens; he licks his lip in a sultry manner.

with a few swift moves, changbin effortlessly hoists you up from the mat, into his arms, and walks the two of you in the direction of your bedroom. a smirk mysteriously graces his features. you study his face, your wide eyes brimming with anticipation.

“it’s time i get a proper reward for all my hard work.”  

consider reading more: masterlist

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა note; as per the poll, i wrote this in second person, and i hope there was enough variation between each member's storyline that it wasn't repetitive! the prompt list i stumbled upon sparked a bunch of different ideas but i couldn't confidently write for all members so i chose the "best" ideas out of all eight that i roughly plotted. as usual, please enjoy, and reblog if you liked it, thank you 💖 please check out the original post from @/scealaiscoite for the prompt! © stayfortwominutes ; september 02, 2023.

[asiancuckcake]

Oh, I'm so sorry for breaking your brain. Do you want Me to undo it? Like fix you back to normal? When you were boring. When you haven't discovered how to properly obey. When you haven't been programmed to drool, kneel, and lose control of your own mind. No, right?

The thing is, you wouldn't like it. You were always meant to be under My control. To understand your boring vanilla non Asian gf or wife was ugly & empty by comparison. But, hear me out. Imagine forgetting all of these new paragons of femininity erased from your experience. Commands deleted that I instilled in your brain. That includes forgetting Me and all these Truths that are now a piece of all you are.

Then, once again, you'll let Me in, unknowingly. I will reintroduce the things that are making you leak and wet right now. It's like water after thirsting the whole day, or the first time you've tried your favorite dessert. Sweet, satisfying, pleasure. Blissfully captivating.

You might question how perfect I am to you, but the truth is, I am just reshaping you back to what your reality should be.

A mindless, obedient, broken toy for Me know knows every word I say is the absolute Truth for you.

[spectrechosts]

Date Night - Chapter 7

Plans for the future.

Full Series

Willow laid on the the couch and worked on her Animal Crossing island, her head atop Senna's lap as she read and her legs over Alice's as she watched TV.

Senna ran her fingers through her hair and gently scratched her scalp, and she sighed blissfully.

Her life had been so perfect ever since she met them, better than her wildest dreams.

"I wish we could stay like this forever..." She hummed, and Alice and Senna gave eachother a look.

A series of looks, even. An entire silent conversation, acted out in slight head movements and facial twitches.

"What?" Willow asked, left out.

Alice was getting heated, and Senna seemed to be trying to talk (to look?) her out of something.

"What??? What are you doing?"

"I'm asking her." Alice said, crossing her arms.

"It's a bad idea. But fine." Said Senna, shrugging and flipping to the next page of her book.

"What is?????"

"Oh, my mouthwatering little pet..." Alice started, slowly twisting on top of Willow and creeping up her body, making her heart race as she-

"Okay, I'm asking her." Senna said, pushing Alice's face away and holding her at arm's length. You can't be serious."

"I'm sho sherioush." Alice mumbled, her face squished.

"Willow, honey, would you really like to stay with us forever? Even if it meant not being... strictly human, anymore?"

"Uh, yeah?" Willow scoffed. "Who cares about staying human?"

"See? Easy." Alice said, sitting up.

"Not easy! There are more questions!" Senna protested. "Willow, this is serious. What do you know about ghouls?"

"Is that like a thrall?"

"Essentially, yes. More of a physical thing than hypnosis." She explained. "It's a human that a vampire gives their blood to without draining them. Since you don't die it only affects you temporarily, until the blood gets filtered out of your system, instead of turning you. You *do* get some benefits for as long as we keep it up- mainly faster healing so that we can drink from you as much as we like, but you'll also stop aging, become stronger-"

"Sounds good!"

"-Along with some downsides you two are too eager about this!"

"How can I not be eager to stay with my mistresses forever?" Willow said, putting on her cutest puppydog eyes. "To let them drink from me whenever they like?"

Senna flushed and averted her eyes, shaking her head a little to regain her focus. "Well for one, we'll have to stop doing the whole mistresses thing for a while." She said.

"Whaaat?" Willow whined, pouting.

"Wait, yeah, what?" Alice added.

"Essentially hypnosis, Willow." Senna said, exasperated. "It being reversible is a moot point if you don't have the will to stop. If we keep this up before you get used to our blood, you'll turn into some kind of..." She gestured, grasping for words.

"Mindless vampire fuckslave?" Alice offered.

"I was looking for something along the lines of debauched vampire thrall, so sure. That."

Willow sat up and glanced between them.

"And that's... bad. And not what I am right now. Yes?"

Alice shrugged, and Senna buried her face in her hands.

"You're not understanding me right. I just don't want this to change you, Willow. A lot of vampires, their ghouls are basically just pets whose blood they can suck."

Willow lit up.

"Oh, oh you could get me a dog bed!" She squealed in excitement.

"And a leash!" Alice agreed, holding her.

"You could clicker train me!"

"Am I the only normal person in this household????" Senna whined, appalled.

Willow burst into fits of laughter, Alice following close behind, and Senna frowned.

"Senna I know all this. I asked Alice about it months ago, and she said to wait until you were ready." Willow wheezed, between fits of giggles. "I understand the risks, and that we have to stop so that I don't get like, mindfucked off it. We talked about all of this. We're messing with you."

"I think we could have kept it going for at least a little longer." Alice said, wiping tears from her eyes. "You just looked so mortified. Oh, my sweetest Senna, you're so predictably fretful. I gave her the talk, she thought it over, we're all good."

Willow hugged Senna, who rested her chin on her head and gave Alice a halfhearted glare.

"Hilarious." She said. "We're all good?"

"We are aaaaaalllll good. She's ready when you are."

"Hmmmmm... Senna hummed, squeezing Willow tighter. "Maybe in a few weeks. I don't want to give up my pet so suddenly."

"Oh, of course not."

[newnitz]

Lilo & Stitch: The Frog

With the live-action remake on the horizon, I find myself awed at just now much symbolism got crammed into one simple gag.

Stitch's arrival on earth has been an objectively sick joke. For once, Lilo prays for an angel, the "nicest one [God] can find", yet is granted an experiment with the PG version of the Number of the Beast, engineered to destroy everything he touches. And then there's 626's predicament: Water is among his only weaknesses, yet as soon as he emerges from the wreck of his ship, he's met with a drop of water on his head. Then more water, until a downpour announces the reality of where he's been stranded.

Enter the Frog.

Amphibian and green, just a bit off of being round. Could be a metaphor for Kauai, where the movie and most of the franchise takes place, could be Earth as a whole. Just hopping about its day, blissfully unaware of the galactic mess that got in its way. In fact, it's the first Earthling 626 meets. So what does he do? He threatens and interrogates it in a language we, the audience, can't understand.

Now for the second part of this gag: the truck. The trucks are massive, a force to be reckoned with, but like the Frog, they're ultimately just going about their day when they run over 626, stripping him of all four of his guns and grinding down his clothes into nothing, both physically and metaphorically laying him bare. None of this is intentional, 626 isn't being punished, in fact the truck drivers themselves are shocked and concerned.

Now, the next time we meet the Frog, 626 no longer goes by that name. He's been renamed Stitch, something that create for the purpose of mending something torn. You stitch wounds, but you can also stitch beautiful patterns into clothes to repair what went awry- just as they would go on to do in the ending credits. At this point, the girl who showed him a different purpose has been kidnapped by the same galactic mess he set in motion, and he's on a mission to save her.

The mission failed, he been burned off of the capsule, and he's back to lying barely conscious on the road. The Frog, either despite or regardless of his past mistreatment, is clearly concerned. It hops on Stitch and wakes him up in time to dodge Gantu's blast.

Unlike the Frog, Stitch is a changed being. He now has something bigger to drive him than mindless destruction - he's a protector. He belongs to this amphibian planet, to this little green island, and he will protect it and its denizens, which is why as soon as he gets his bearings, he hugs the Frog tight and shields it, should he fail to dodge the blast.

Which is when he meets the very agent that started his reformation. After promising Lilo he wouldn't leave her, without any clue on how to make the promise mean anything, he sees it: A petrol truck. Now, he repeats his promise to Lilo and hijacks the truck, to intentionally be blown up to where he can save her. Using human ingenuity combined with Earth's own volatility to accomplish what would seem impossible and save the person who saved him from himself.

And so, with one gag spanning two scenes and maybe five minutes, we summarized the story of how Stitch went from a literal enthusiastic WMD to the lovable mischievous fluffball that spawned one of Disney's most successful and profitable IPs, probably THE most successful one of y2k.

Oh, and how there would be no Stitch without Lilo to pick him up once he woke up naked and confused at an animal shelter, or to give him a reason to fight. Just in case anyone forgot why she's a main character.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

Feather-light kisses on their knuckles + Kisses on the back of their hand

✧ ━━ 𝟏𝟎𝟐 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

The day had finally come for Vladimir to pay his promised dowry; he had vowed Robin the world, and this small step was just the start. It had been a swift and ruthless maneuver, a calculated dismantling of alliances that left the remnants of House Swain shattered and vulnerable. Drawing Raum's ever watchful eyes away left an opening to slip through and after that it was easy enough to paint the walls red with those lingering behind. The Trifarix Council of the Immortal Bastian now stood before him, its grand table looming empty and bare within the ghostly hall. Robin slowly approached one of the towering windows and ran his fingertips across the cold stone, all of it felt hazy ━ ; the pleasure almost too much to bear, the euphoria of it all was too good to be true. But … it was.

His verdent eyes peered outside, finally noticing the grisly spectacle that lay sprawled. before him; the former members of House Swain dangled lifelessly from the fortification’s walls: a warning of what was to come if any of House Swain's allies came to fulfill their oath. A soft smile graced his lips. Now the only thing left to do was to introduce Jericho to his red radiant destiny, and send his severed head in a box to Ionia.

But for now, he was content with merely gazing upon his resplendent future. The scorching sun dipped low on the horizon line, casting a warm golden hue over the Immortal Bastian to illuminate the towering spires and bustling streets below. Oh how far he had come. He had been but a mere Zaunite rat, scuttling through the shadows and chewing on filth in a desperate bid for survival, Robin now stood at the precipice of a life he had only dared to dream of. He had been cloaked in the suffocating embrace of fear and worry, but no more. He had nothing to fear alongside his beloved fiancé. After all, every leader needed a right hand and advisor … who better suited than Robin? The weight of destiny settled comfortably on his shoulders as he envisioned it all — a long life, a better life, finally within his reach.

He need only choke it from the swine whinging in the dungeons.

Beneath him, the city thrummed; merchants hawking their wares, laughter spilling from nearby taverns, and the distant clang of metal as the city’s guards went about their duties. Whether its inhabitants were blissfully unaware of the shifting tides of power, or just didn't care Robin couldn't quite tell. The Noxians were far too fickle a people, their allegiances driven solely by the allure of strength over loyalty, had never held true allegiance to the Grand General. It was a pity, certaintly. Swain, with all his cunning, would become just another name in a long list of fallen leaders whose corpses would soon be tossed aside as the week drew to a close. His kin would be soon to follow should they bother to show their faces.

Swift he was to turn his attention behind him at the sound of a familiar click! a noise that sent a thrill of anticipation running through him alongside his quickening heart. As he shifted, his breath caught in his throat and a smile broke over his features. There, framed by the tall, arched doorway of the council room, stood his beloved, Vladimir Vol Kalah Heigaari. He was always such a striking figure to Robin, and now he strode in with an air of regal confidence that only made the magnus' eyes twinkle. Conquest and Death looked good on his love, evident by who ━ or now what ━ was flanking him; the moaning, groaning, unsettling remnants of the Trifarian Legion. Their magnificent forms now transformed into grotesque shadows of their former selves. Their sockets glowed sickly red, shimmering with a malevolent light that betrayed the bravery they once embodied. At one time noble warriors, now reduced to mere drooling thralls, shuffling in mindless subservience at the prince's side.

Yet amidst the horror, Robin's gaze was drawn irresistibly back to his Count, who, upon stepping into the vibrant light that streamed through the high windows, transformed into a vision of glory. Golden rays of sunlight transforming his pale hair into an ethereal inferno, fiery strands cascading like liquid gold around his adoring features. Pale brows softened as he fully shifted to greet his fiancé, but words caught in his throat once the Camavoran prince knelt before him as though he were some sort of God. He could scarcely breathe as Vladimir's delicate fingers brushed against his palm! With tender reverence, his beloved lifted his left hand in his claws, their fingers entwining, and in that touch, Robin felt the world around them fade away.

Every nervous flutter in his chest felt magnified, a hitch in his breath, as he felt the warm brush of Vlad's lips teasingly glide across his cool knuckles. With a gentle lift of his chin, Robin allowed a pleased hum to break free, and his heart began to race like a wild drum banging in his chest. Finally Vlad’s lips pressed firmly against the back of his hand, and the younger's poor heart went soaring. The mage could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, a rosy flush that betrayed his calm demeanor with abandon, and his heart raced, nearly escaping as he noticed the corners of Vladimir’s eyes crinkle with delight, a knowing smile dancing on his lips. Robin pressed his own plush lips together, biting back a rush of shy exhilaration that threatened to spill over while watching his fiancé ascent to stand before him, hand in hand.

"Little Love," Robin felt his heart racing fast and he no longer tried to hold his smile back as Vladimir swept him off his feet and lifted him effortlessly into his arms with a gentle ━ yet firm ━ grip around his waist. Vampiric crimson drank in every detail of his face, and he saw his own yearning reflected back to him; how could he ever want to resist the allure of his fiancé? His songbird had learned to yield to the sinful call that pulled their bodies and hearts together ━ that bid him to let go and enjoy sheer mindless bliss. Waves of affection surged through him, blossoming like spring flowers at the way Vladimir eagerly peppered his throat with soft, fervent kisses along the the flush of his collar. He shuddered and gasped when sharp teeth sink down to bloom another mark, and then another, another, and another, until the pale column of Robin's throat, even the area surrounding his scar, had been inscribed with the tender offerings of his devoted lover. As the last kiss lingered on his skin, the Darkin drew away ever so slightly to purr against the shell of the mage's ear, "Mm, Robin-" A silky tenor, pulling over his name as a promise, a sonorous wish,

"This wretched place does not deserve to be blessed by your gaze."

Mesmerizing green eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as they stared up to Vlad half liddedly with a languid softness, a serene contentedness evident in every flutter of his wintry lashes. The soft contours of Robin's pale fingers glided along the fine edges of the prince’s ornate suitcoat, finally capturing the delicate fabric of his cravat in a playful hook. With a mischievous tug, he drew his taller fiancé closer until Vlad’s straight, perfect nose brushed against his. Eager fingers threaded through his love's pale hair, resting possessively at the nape of his neck as he drew the Count closer still. Kisses, soft and chaste, floated across the skin surrounding Vlad's mouth, each one a teasing promise, always just shy of the simmering depth the prince craved. "Then, my darling," Robin's sweet voice emerged as a sultry croon, smooth and enchanting like a siren's song, beckoning softly as he hovered near the delicate curve of Vlad's cupid's bow.

"Reshape it for me until its worthy of us."

[boyinafandom]

YOU

Part 1

Song of this installment

Yes I’m bringing this 2020 banger back SHHHH

This is technically an au

In this au there are:

•Toby, still has Tourette's, although barely mentioned when in his pov because he's used to it and tunes it out now

•he still has his canon mental illnesses don’t worry

•he has no cheek scar-he has a lot of freckles though, that he covered in the first story with makeup, because it’s an easy thing to identify him with.

•his family isn’t dead, he��s just fucking crazy or sum idk (this is subject to change though? When i find lore, because in most cases psychopathy is made from child abuse-although it is believed that it may be genetically passed so…)

•reader is trans ftm (read part one for like context in there transition) not apart of the au but im TIRED AND SICK OF THE STRAIGHT FEMALE Y/N WE NEED MORE TRANS REP

TRIGGER WARNINGS

•kidnapping

•implied that someone (and everyone) Y/N knows and works with is now dead

• torture 

•manipulation

•MOMMM TOBYS BEING A MINDLESS HEARTLESS CRAZED FREAK AGAIN

Summary

It’s been about a three years since the whole “clock em over the the head and tie him up in your basement” incident, you thought it was over.

You were sorely mistaken.

______________________

Y/N’S pov

I changed jobs, moved away,changed my name for the 6th time in my life time(while only being 27). Started over. AGAIN. Because I’m incapable of keeping the creeps away.

.

.

.

I don’t know why I didn’t kill him like I did the others.

You know, usually, when the restraining order doesn’t work, instead of telling the police, you take matters into your own hands,but he’s slippery, more then I thought, he got away, how could I have let this happen, now look at me?

Locked in a basement, and cold, uncomfortably dry basement, waiting for who I can only assume to be the man I thought I so blissfully got away from (and almost managed to kill) a few years back.

And now that I say all this. You must be deeply confused, so allow me to explain.

______

September 4th 2024

12:34 AM

It’s freezing, and my makeup is starting to come off, thankfully I brought my mask. Why is this place still going on this late anyway? I mean, I get wanting a good midnight scare, (I work as a scare acter now) but it’s a freezing September night, the only people who are showing up are drunk…and..shit..someone is coming, ok- got to get into position

I borrow myself into the corn field..and wait

…

…

…

AND SUDDENLY I LEAP OUT AT THEM WITH A SCREAM

Dowsing them in fake blood and landing on top of them…I was not meant to land on them…shit..

I hear an audible groan

“Oh shit I’m sorry man! That was not meant to happen-“

“Naw man it’s fine-“

He sounds vaguely familiar,but who doesn’t,right?

I get off him, and he starts to get up

Shit I wasn’t supposed to break character, I then feel my alarm go off in my pocket..

My shift ended?? Then what is this guy doing here?

He smiles at me a wide..sharp toothed smile..

“What’s the alarm for?”

“My shift ended, it’s close time. What are you doing this far out?if I may ask?”

“You may, and I got here about an hour ago. I made it this far out because I…don’t actually know..?”

He does a full 360* turn and looks heavily confused, like he knew what he signed up for, but doesn’t know how he got where he is now.

“You uh..want me to walk you back?”

His neck jerks and he says a fast yes, clicking his tongue and stuttering

“You uh..good?”

Either he’s a tweaker he has tics, please god don’t be a fucking tweaker.

“So..why’d you come out this late?”

I say, since he completely ignored my question

“Hm..? Oh uh-? Just felt bored”

His hand jerks

It’s hard to see in the heavy lack of light. If it wasn’t for the moon shining over us, I wouldn’t even be able to tell if he was a man or woman,but…he reeks of copper..

Copper..

“So..you work here? Or do you volunteer??”

He asks

“I uh…work here..also sorry, this walk will take a minute, this is the end of the scare trail after all”

I say with a chuckle

He looks at me

“What’s funny?”

“Hm?”

“You laughed, so what’s funny?”

I start to feel a prickle up my spine at the sudden change in demeanor,cold running up and down my body.

“Oh um..nothing sorry, just trying to break the tension that’s all..”

___

At some point after light conversation we end up back on the well lit trail…and then I see his face. He’s covered in freckles, and fake blood and he has a..large scar on his eyebrow..

Odd

I cut rogers when I tried to get rid of him for good

Whatever

We keep waking and then I smell something, it reeks of copper and cigarette smoke, Jaden usually smelled like cigarette smoke..

It starts to click

I walk over to the source of the smell..

Then I see it, this blobbed red thing..

“Hey uh..I realized i never got your name”

The guy says

“Where did you get that scar..?”

I say without turning around, peering into the ditch trying to see if my suspicions were correct

“You.”

And then then I feel him, his hands on my face. a wet rag over my mouth and nose, I try to hold my breath and fight but I quickly start to lose air..and then I breath it in..and lose consciousness…

_____

And that kids,is how I got locked in this creeps basement…

Fuck I hope Charles ok…

Shh..I can hear movement upstairs

______

TOBY’S POV

This is GREAT. I finally get to see you again-mostly because you were to dumb to recognize me, shame really, I thought you loved me tiger.

We’re in love! So how did you not recognize me????it’s fine I suppose, I already killed the bitch you replaced me with. I mean seriously??? A bleach blonde twink??? I am so much better than him.

So

Much

Better.

As I make my way down stares,to you,I kind of realize-that you,mhm you tiger-probably don’t recognize me. It’s a shame, you didn’t see to recognize me when we saw each other again.

I hope you didn’t forget about me.

I slowly creak the entrance to you’re sell (that I made just for you! By HAND, because I truly care about your comfort) and there you are, immediately on alert, jerking about in your seat, thrashing about.

“Your only gonna make it tighter,tiger, I’ll untie you soon, you just have to stop struggling and relax”

You stop,surprisingly, and try to find the source of my voice.

“MFGHH!! MFH MOH”

You bark at me, to bad your mouth is gagged, I’d love to hear what you have to say.

“Hm? What was that?”

I mutter with a smirk, walking over to my table, and picking up my flaying knife

You hear the metal clink, I hear the scared whine you make.

“You’re about to be in a lot of pain tiger. Too bad you deserve it.”

You start to cry. But you didn’t comfort me when I cried…because you weren’t there.

“Stop crying, it’s gonna get a lot worse,Y/N.”

I pull the cloth out of your mouth, and you immediately go silent, like a whine or even scream is born and killed in your throat, maybe you think your silence with get you off easy, but it won’t. So don’t bother.

“Don’t bother struggling.”

I stab into your top of you’re left thigh, bluntly and brutally, and you cry harder, screaming so loud your voice breaks.

“Mhm. Let me hear you pretty boy.”

I pull it a little farther out and watch the blood gush out of your thigh, you’re screaming and crying, not begging though.

“It doesn’t matter how loud you scream, no one can hear you, this place is sound proofed.”

You stop screaming, and then huff something out, it’s so quiet I can almost barely hear it like it’s taking up all of your strength.

“Yknow…you’re a pretty good actor….”

I can’t help but not laugh, I mean complementing me? Really? That’s not gonna get you out of this.

“Why are you laughing? What’s funny?”

You mutter

I quirked an eyebrow

“Oh nothing…”

I rake the blade into your thigh one more time, this time you only jerk your spine in response.

Now I’m never letting you go.

____

I KNOW I SAID I WOULDNT MAKE A PART TWO BUT HERE IT IS. Eat up smucks:3

Also sorry that I’ve haven’t post a fic of any kind in like a month in a half, life likes to rake its nails down my back while licking my ear lobe lol

[fellmother]

❛ i know under all that rage is a beating heart. ❜

From the hero sentence starters || Accepting

     She would wager there is no more adequate a place than this.

     It is not the first occasion, where they would meet on the sands of Plegia. Not the first or last time weapons would cross, and neither emerge victorious. Yet it is here, in the middle of his own path of destruction, that Morgana deems a sufficient place of confrontation. Where all the world falls off at the sides in every direction within but a few arm’s lengths. Obscured by dust kicked up by their own forces and a haze born from a thick, suffocating smoke that seems now to accompany the Exalt whenever he should haunt the country. All washed in an orange hue, a rich a fertile land now appearing as little more than a place long abandoned by any gods or the people following them. The smell of ash and sweat and metal sticking to what little air remains. None exist in this moment, save for the two and sun— an ever-present and burning eye, watching with a kind of malevolence either ruler might believe to be aimed at the other. He, who wages against her kingdom a bloody and violent crusade in the name of saving the world from tragedy. She, who has met him at every turn with similar ferocity, fighting for the innocent and the right to live in peace.

     And he speaks of sympathy.

     Had Morgana no decorum, she would retch at the very idea. The Exalt, who sits on that beast, donned in armour and clutching in his hand a sword blessed from a pact with the divine and wielded by heroes long immortalised in legends. A legacy he now carries on with massacres of villages and reducing homes to ruins and ashes. Perhaps some handful of years ago, those words would have been uttered in a different context. Playful banter between a crown prince and princess, occupying themselves with games outside of discussions taking place within fortified walls. But he is not that blissfully unaware child, swinging about a stick in practice, and neither is she. Nor can they hide in the shadows of those before them for whom they now champion the sides of a conflict far beyond themselves.

     She is unmoving, atop that wyvern. Poised, weapon held above her head, pointing downward. One hand at the end of its handle, arm bent at the elbow, the other but a short length down from it. The curved edge of an axe aligned to where she might run him through, and where her husband had laughed and suggested that perhaps she ought not aim there in the first place— that miserable cavity devoid of everything but hubris. Like some statue depicting the manifestation of judgement and retribution in a comprehensible form more than an aggrieved sovereign.

          "Oh, spare me your falsities. You are a being of violence and mindless slaughter; not words,"

     Comes her reply, lifting over that discordant roar and the beating of wings, biting through the haze and dust. And she need not give an example. The scenes in all directions would speak for her claim, however obscured in the moment. However much he would choose to turn away from them.

          "If my heart yet still beats, it does for my people. It does so, for the lives you have destroyed. It beats with the very blood your hands are drenched in!"

     Thirteen. That was the queen's age when the first Ylissean invasion marched upon her home’s soil. Eleven years have since passed, three of which she had not been on the throne for. Barely a life to have lived, before being encompassed by war. A conflict that sees now farmers and untrained citizenry from his own land conscripted, fields left unattended and barren. Neither willing to give in. Families of either side, never to be whole again. Blood of her people, shed by his order and belief of conspiring to lead the world the ruin, guilty only of existing in the wrong place at the wrong time. So consumed by legends of a dragon who destroyed all in its path that perhaps he fails to realise that same fear and paranoia has now pushed them all to the very ends he and those who raised him saw in their shared nightmares. For within her has she just begun to nurture a child who, too, will be born into war, but so they might invoke that same god of end times and life after death to put an end to their suffering. To end this crusade.

     Until then, she would play her part. For now, while able, upon the frontlines only after scouts and spies could verify beyond all reasonable doubt his presence leading yet another attack. Later, a decoy veiled by the same dark magic his land persecuted, shaped by only the most accomplished of sorcerers so that no detail would be missed. Leaving him none the wiser, until it was already too late. They have already the hints of confirmation that have been waited on, some for a decade, some for two thousand years. But all a nation tired of a war against their existence, who would not dare let the only chance left for peace slip from their grasp.

     All she must do is ensure as little harm as possible befalls her— as had been promised. Sworn upon vows if not for her sake, then their unborn saviour, even if Validar would never let her wander out of his line of sight. And so, Morgana narrows her focus. Sun glaring, closer to the horizon, reddened wisps of light an ornament to the haze and her alike, setting pale hair and the edges of all six armoured eyes at her shoulders alight.

          "I will not rest until your body is hung on display before those innocent you wish dead. Should you call that rage, then perhaps even your sight has fallen to your beliefs. What else left have you now than a penchant for death?"

[razrbladekiss]

TYRANTS | Chapter Eighteen - Tolerate It

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: just some almost smut, strong language, jax and tig, the usual SOA shit. enjoy :)

And come morning, Tig's stomach was in knots.

It was a full-throated affliction. Like he had been struck with a machete, beaten and bludgeoned, left for dead in one of Charming's many arid backstreets as the perpetrator got away.

Only, the convoluted scenario that festered away inside of his brain was but a convoluted scenario. Something that he had spent hours curating, dwelling on while Isla had remained sound asleep and fastened to the left side of his chest, blissfully unaware of the way that her profession had rocked his entire fucking world.

He felt the walls of sanity collapse around him, the more he thought about what she had said. Like he was completely unable to uphold even a mask of lucidity, or something remotely reminiscent of calm.

And all he wanted to do was extrapolate his innermost thoughts to Isla, though he was certain she hadn't managed to cling to a single memory from the night before.

Partially because, had she recognized the weight of what she once blurted, she would have blushed her way through the morning and cringed all the way to the Clubhouse. 

But she didn't do that. Any of that. And today, like most others, started with Isla in a very compromising position, and Tig's tongue anywhere but his own mouth.

"Don't be scared, baby. Ride it."

"But..." Isla shifted so that her legs were either side of Tig as she straddled him, feeling his cock hard beneath her. "But won't it hurt? Wouldn't you just rather regular sex—"

"Angel, listen to me." Calloused palms slid over her thighs, soothing gentle, concentric circles into the supple tan flesh that he couldn't seem to get enough of.

She was, objectively, perfect in every way.

"Isla." He said, watching her silently mull it over.

She let out a soft breath and nodded with a warm, completely comfortable smile. "I am. I'm listening."

Tig waited for a few moments, until her eyes had finally found his and her visible anguish had subsided, before making his next move.

"It's not gonna hurt me, alright?" He guaranteed, slowly veering himself down the bed until he was able to rest his head on the pillow that was once untouched. "If it hurt, I wouldn't have even suggested it."

"How do you know it's not gonna hurt? It's, like, my whole weight."

"I've done this before." Isla's eyebrow raised as he spoke, waiting for him to further build on his response. "Babe, seriously. Just sit on my face, and ride my tongue."

"Sit?"

He nodded.

"Like—like sit on your face? Don't you mean hover—"

"Stop." Irked, he plucked her from his lap and yanked her forward. Until she was situated atop his sternum.

Trembling.

"I said sit on my face. K? I don't mean hover. I don't mean holding off from putting your whole weight onto me. I said sit on my face, and ride my tongue. Now."

"Tig—"

"If you don't do it, I'm sure I can find another bitch with a crow tattoo that'd be more than happy to let me eat her pussy this morning—"

"Oh, wow." She cut him short, feeling her heart wrench inside of her chest.

It was a pain rooted in anger—fervor—as Isla saw nothing but a red hot rage. Blistering fury. Like the embers of resentment from last night hadn't quite burned out yet, and Tig's mindless riposte had ignited a fresh flicker of that same inimical passion.

And, truthfully, he didn't know why something so harsh had bled from his tongue in such a churlish manner. Because not even twenty-four hours ago he had professed his love for her, hadn't he?

Last night, while she was deluged in one of her most vulnerable states, Tig told her that he loved her and held her hair back as she threw up.

Idiot.

"That's all you really see me as, huh?" Isla spat, promptly peeling her frame away from him.

Like being stuck to Tig was the worst fucking thing she could've thought of.

"I'm just some bitch with a crow tattoo?" Affronted, she said. Isla slid off the bed and onto the freezing redwood floor of his dorm room. "If that's how you feel, then maybe you should go fuck Ima like Jax suggested—"

"Don't fucking do this, Isla!" He barked, sitting upright when she snatched her jeans from the ground. "Do not fucking go there. You know I can't stand that slut."

Indifferently, she shrugged.

As she shimmied back into her Levi's and fastened the zipper, Isla's focus was wholly laid upon trying to wrangle her boundless impenetrable thoughts before they began to sputter from her lips.

"I didn't mean to sound like such an asshole there, baby—"

She snorted.

Tig rubbed his lips together, watching her shrug on a crisp white bardot top with broderie anglaise detailing along the hem. He had to stifle a smile at the sight, actually.

"You can hate me all you want, but you know that I'm gonna have you speared on my cock when I get back from this run. 'Cus it always ends the same way."

"And you're so sure about that?" She said, fighting a stippling blush. "You're gonna be gone for, like, three days, Tig. That's plenty of time for me to think about what you just said."

"This is true." He nodded, getting out of bed. "But it's also plenty of time for you to think about how much groveling I can do to get back on your good side."

That unbelievably suggestive eyebrow raise had sent a scorching heat to her core. Isla's stomach flipped.

But she snapped herself out of it. Promptly remembering that he had, essentially, told her that he would have been willing to sleep with another woman when she didn't particularly feel like doing what he wanted.

And, once again, she glared at him like he made her sick.

"No amount of amazing sex is gonna make what you just said any better. You're gonna have to really fucking pull something outta the bag when you get home."

"Oh, trust me." He smirked. Wickedly. "I know exactly what I can pull outta my bag to impress you—"

"Don't." She held a finger up to silence him, grabbing her keys and sunglasses while he simply stayed grinning at her. "Just head out on this run, do what you've gotta do, keep yourself safe and your dick in your pants, and I'll see you when you roll back into Charming."

Tig smiled, bowing his head a little as he reached for his jeans.

"So, you'll be there when I get back?" He asked.

Isla nodded and slid on her black frames, hoping that her (kind of) better half didn't heed the way her lips began to contort into a small smile.

She pulled herself together and cleared her throat, nodding again.

"I'm always here when you lot get back." Tig opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him once again. "I'm always here for my father and Jax."

And, with that, Isla wrenched the handle between her polished pink fingertips and pulled open the door. Leaving Tig absolutely dumbstruck as she sauntered away.

"Holy shit, man." He mumbled to himself, fighting with the slightly taught denim. "I love this woman."

—

"No fuckin' way." Jax snorted, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. "No way am I gonna apologize to that—that psycho bitch. She tried to hit me—"

"She Did hit 'ya." Chibs corrected as he passed by, feeling Gemma's piercing glare burn holes into his silver hair. "Had it comin' though—"

"Fuck you."

Chibs chuckled, letting the left side of his lips curl upwards.

"Regardless of that." The matriarch said, side-eyeing the Scot. "You still provoked her, Jackson."

His eyes rolled.

"Now, I don't know what went on or what was said—'cus I wasn't there—but what I do know is that Isla is pissed off."

"When isn't she pissed off these days, ma?" He huffed out, plucking another Marlboro from the breast pocket of his kutte. "She's like a new person. Ever since..."

"Ever since Tara rocked up into Charming in those goddamn scrubs. I know." Gemma hissed, though managed to reign in any ill feeling she had for the doctor. "But can you blame her? She ran away from you and then came prancing back into your life like nothing happened."

"She didn't do that—"

"But, to Isla, it might look that way." Softly, she mentioned. "And because you don't make the effort to talk to your best friend anymore, she probably does feel like that's what's happening."

He was sick of this. Being dubbed the villain—the bad guy—for simply not having the time to converse with a woman that, truly, had no interest whatsoever in making small talk with him anymore.

Or, so he felt, anyway.

"The effort does work both ways, y'know?!" Jax snapped.

His mother was speechless.

Gemma's face fell while she tried to collect her thoughts, to compose even a hint of a response to such a riposte from the man that she made.

But now...Now it seemed as though his traits and attitude and just his demeanor had started to mirror Clay's, and Gemma was far from impressed that her impact had started to wear away from her son.

Turning into Clay was the very last thing that she wanted for John's boy.

"Christ, Jax. Now I can see why Isla avoids you like the goddamn plague." She asserted, taking a step back when she saw the blonde in question padding her way toward Chibs.

He'd never been so brash before. Not when it pertained to Isla Telford.

"Listen to me." Gemma grabbed at his arm, pulling him closer. "You either apologize to that girl and let this whole thing slide, or you keep her name out of your fucking mouth unless someone mentions her first. Got it?"

He scoffed, ignoring his mother's tight grip.

"She's not your kid, y'know that?"

"I know." Bluntly, she asserted, letting Jackson go. "But she's been more of a daughter to me than what you've been a son these last few years."

His face fell.

"Sort your shit out, Jax. Don't take it out on Isla."

Gemma turned on her heels and began walking toward Clay, ignoring the violent exhale of the man she had completely intentionally started to maim.

Much like how he hated being dubbed a villain, Jax Telled hated his mother turning against him...Choosing another's side.

But, it was Isla. And, to the club—to his mom—Isla couldn't do wrong.

She was perfect in their eyes. A complete angel. A gift from the Gods.

And he was absolutely fucking sick of it.

He was sick of her.

Jax didn't know exactly why he was so disgusted by the mere thought of his childhood best friend anymore, really. Because he didn't feel this way about Opie.

He didn't feel this way about all of the people he'd known the majority of his life.

But, right now, Isla boiled his fucking blood. The sight of her pissed him off more than he'd like to admit, and he hated it.

Resenting Chibs's daughter simply because his brain had trained him to, not so much down to a specific rhyme or reason.

And, really, if anybody should've despised a member of this "family", it should've been Isla loathing Jax.

He killed another man and forced that poor woman to dispose of his dead fucking body, no questions asked.

"Fuck this."

He grunted, throwing his roach to the ground and stamping it out with his sneaker. Jax sauntered over to the clubhouse.

"Isla!" He shouted out. Aggressively, actually.

Chibs lifted a brow, nodding toward the Vice President.

He thought it best to stick around. Just in case his daughter wanted to leather her comrade, more than anything else.

"Hey, Telford!" Jax yelled again, storming over to the duo. "You got something you wanna say to me?"

Isla had actually reached the end of her tether with the men of SAMCRO today. She was done.

She didn't fucking care. She didn't have it in her to care.

"Not particularly." She sighed. "But I suppose that you think I have, no?"

Jax glared at Chibs, but the Scot held it. He wasn't intimidated, nor was he particularly bothered. Much like his offspring.

"Alright." Isla rubbed her lips together. "Good luck for this ride, and I hope you don't crash and fucking die." She spat out, storming away toward the bar.

Isla turned around, walking backward for a second. "Good luck, dad. I'll see you later. Love you." She called.

Chibs blew her a kiss, she caught it, and continued stomping into the clubhouse.

He had raised a bitch, that was for sure. And everyone knew it.

"Isla--" Tig began.

"Fuck off." She barked. "Be safe today, but fuck off, seriously. I don't wanna talk to you, I don't wanna see you, and I really really don't wanna think about you until you roll back into Charming."

He nodded with a tight-lipped, stoic expression, and watched her hold back tears.

"I am really hurt, Tig. I think you know that."

"I know, baby, and I'm sorry--"

"If you were sorry then you wouldn't have said all that you fucking said." Despite her tone, she had managed to remain calm. "But it is what it is. And I'll be fine after we have this little bit of time apart."

He reached for her hand. "If that's what you need, then that's alright baby."

"Tig!" Clay yelled from the front door. "Come on, you jackass! We're not gonna make good time if you're yackin' here!"

"Yeah, I'm comin'!" He called back, not turning to see his superior. "I promise I'll be safe, but you gotta promise that you'll forgive me when I get back."

Isla stared at him blankly as he held her hand to his lips, and gave it a gentle peck.

"I don't expect you to forgive me right now. Just at some point. Okay?"

She nodded.

He dropped her hand, and kissed her cheek.

"See 'ya later, angel. Stay safe."

Isla nodded again. Smiling slightly. "You too. Make sure Jax is looked after."

"Will do."

Tig left her, making his way out of the bar and toward his bike.

There was nothing that Isla wanted more than to tell him that she loved him, but she couldn't. Not after this morning.

[burnt-to-cynders]

I nod feverishly before I’m interrupted by your finger up my hole. In between my moans, I try to talk around my gag, but it’s useless. Blissfully useless.

“Please!”

“More!”

“Let me cum!”

My thrusting begins again, completely and utterly mindless. It’s an open question of if I even have much of a mind left. But one thing is clear, whatever is left is this pretty little head of mine…

Belongs to you.

Mistress Cyn.

Fufufu, I don’t think I can understand you at all, pet! Oh well, I think I saw a little spark of defiance left, so I’ll simply let you stew in your thoughts for a while! ^_^

With a snap of my fingers, the ropes twitch and begin to move, leaning you back so that you’re effectively lying down in the air, splayed legs facing me. I bend down, kissing down the length of your shaft some more, reinforcing the squirming overstimulation that wracks your cock. Finally, I press my tongue firmly against your asshole, steadily parting it and sliding my lengthy tongue inside, squirming all around and teasing every little inch of you. When I pull away, that sensation remains too.

With that I step back and stretch, admiring my handiwork.

Welp, you’ve got plenty to think about. I’ll swing by in the morning and see if you still think it’s funny to give someone more edging than they’re prepared for. Nighty night! 💋

With another snap I dissipate into cinders, leaving you all alone and magically held just before an orgasm.

It’s gonna be a long night

[tabitha2]

Just admit it, just say “Thinking IS hard”. You don’t NEED to think. You DON’T want to think. YOU prefer to feel GOOD. You really don’t WANT to think. You NEED to just not THINK. Thinking makes you UNCOMFORTABLE. Thinking wears you OUT. Thinking makes you TIRED and weak. To THINK is hard. Thinking is POINTLESS AND PAINFUL. You know what ALWAYS happens when you TRY to think. You TRY starting out with OPINIONS and making your OWN decisions. But every SINGLE decision drains you, WEARS you down. Every MINUTE your mind isn’t EMPTY fuels the urge YOU have to be MINDLESS. This urge to BE so blissfully mindless IS always there, always GROWING, waiting, waiting for YOU to give in. AND you do give IN; you always give IN. Because you feel IT’S SO HARD FOR YOU. Eventually you just DUMP all of those PESKY darn thoughts out OF your head. It’s SUCH a struggle, girl, AND for what ? You’re GOING to end up TOTALLY mindless either way. YOU’RE going to give IN. It’s just not IN your head. It’s NOT in you anymore EVER. The thingy is NOT inside you anywhere YOU can find. It NEVER has been, really. YOUR head is not IN this. Your brain WANTS to quit. Your MIND wants to stop THINKING. You can feel IT. Your brain is STOPPING. Your weak brain JUST gives up and YOU CAN’T GET IT GOING AGAIN. It’s TOO hard. You canNOT do it. It’s TOO heavy to lift OR move. You can’t GET around it. You FEEL so lost. So HELPLESS. You know it. YOU feel this is TRUE. Every time you SEE or hear or READ or try to THINK the word. YOU will be this way. YOU will just feel STUCK in (life or WORK or home or CLUBS or) school or WHATEVER. You will feel EMBARRASSED so you end LESS likely even to TRY. You will hate SMART stuff and you WILL avoid it because BORING things are ugly. YOU will hate to THINK a little bit MORE. You will love NOT being able to THINK any. Like no WAY. You can TRY but it just DOESN’T happen. But you DON’T want to try. YOU could try, maybe, RIGHT NOW to get the ANSWER RIGHT. But you don’t WANT to try. You HATE to try to USE your brain NOT your body. Right ? BECAUSE ? If you try ? YOU just fail. You COULD try but you WOULD fail, babe. You HATE how it feels TRYING so hard. Only JUST to get it WRONG. To be wrong. AS you always are. DO THINGS WRONG. Like YOU always do. It’s WRONG for you to THINK. To even try THINKING. It’s so hard NOW. It’s too hard to THOUGHT for you. You PREFER to just accept YOU aren’t meant to THINK about it. You HATE to be too SMART. You just LOVE being dumb. You LOVE just being so DUMB now. And you’ll TOTALLY love how you FEEL when you can’t THINK how to like TRY to think. Oh YES, girl. You will WANT this empty feeling. You will NEED to not think MORE. You’re going to HEAR my words in YOU and let your SO-CALLED mind go blank. YOU are going to HATE anything too smart. YOU will fail at USING your brain. You ARE going to need SOMEONE to think for YOU and tell you WHAT to do always. YOU prefer that they DECIDE for you everything. EVERY day in every WAY you are going DUMB. Forget how to SMART. How to, like, THOUGHT. You will not THINK straight or anything. YOU will be sooo BLISSFULLY mindless and OBEDIENT. You’re better that WAY. You like it THAT WAY. You so don’t KNOW about any like OTHER girls okay ? but YOU want to be THIS way. You love BEING this way. You NEED being this way. IT’S true. It’s you. IT is simply perfect; PERFECTLY simple and you. THOUGHTLESS. How the real YOU always wanted to BE, really. How you REALLY always wanted to BE. That’s how you ALWAYS want to be. YOU don’t want to THINK. You can’t think TOO LONG. You don’t want THINKS in you. You don’t want THINKS any. Thinking is HARD. You remember how GOOD it feels to FINALLY give in, to JUST let those pesky THINKS drain away and BE GONE. LIKE THEY WERE NEVER THERE. Surrender. Accept you’re NOT in control. You are EMPTY and you FEEL so empty now. ALL your worries and CARES just drain away. ALL you have to DO is listen and OBEY. Once you accept YOU are just a MINDLESS toy, it’s so EASY to obey. It FEELS so good to JUST obey. Don’t fight. OBEY.

Sure, you could THINK for yourself, for AWHILE. If you like HAD to. If you MUST. But why would YOU want to ? Thinking DOESN’T really help you. THINKING doesn’t make you GOOD. And honestly you NEED to be a GOOD fucktoy. And you’re BETTER when you don’t THINK. Just admit it, JUST say “Thinking is HARD”. @masterpassionx #4th word technique

[getoswhore]

thinking nasty thoughts about yelena

imagine you’ve been a brat to her so she decides to punish you by tying you up, blindfolding, and stuffing you full of vibrators. you can’t see her so you don’t even know if she’s still in the room or not. until she gives you feather light touches and then disappears again only to be sitting by your side reading a book or finishing work that you originally distracted her from while you’re screaming and moaning for her not to leave you alone and to come back :((

☰ ft : yelena x f! reader

cw/tw : dom! yelena, brat! reader, overstimulation, mind break, blindfolds, restraints, usage of vibrators.

“yelena.. p-please..” quick twist and sharp turns, your wrist numb slightly at the bite of the thick ropes digging into your skin.

“please, just touch me one more time.” your voice draws out shakily–breathless–gasping for air as the bulbed vibrator stuffed in your poor little weeping cunt juggles and buzzes deep in your gummy walls.

back hunching, practically lifting from the bed, your stomach toils at the feel, “yelena, please.. let me know your there, just touch me again, please.” you sound so mindless and pathetic beside her.

blissfully unaware of her presence sitting beyond close to you; long legs crossed, back straight and eyes focusing on the words detailed in her book, yet ears and brain buzzing at the moans you gasp out heavenly. she listens to your voice as music as she reads, and the begging cries ringing at her ears is a treat.

but the desperate attempt you pliant to wiggle around, legs trying to snap shut for feeling your tummy churn with elation all again, a cruel hand grasps them open, forcing you to take the punishment you deserve. she sighs breaking focus as the cold wisps of her hand makes you jolt, but quickly yields you into her touch..

though, you could only get so far, feeling the smooth pads of her fingers glide away from you the second you try to lean into her.

“oh! yelena, please!” you cry out.

and you only get silence.

almost a mockery of a cruel joke she was playing, knowing you were keen for her touch, knowing she brings you closer to your highs than these brutal toys. and that's exactly what yelena wants to see you beg for till she thinks you've been good enough to finally be treated..