#sex work mention tw

[witchsofia]

His Night Off || Neylani&Sofia

"You still picking me up?" Sofia asked as she held her phone to her ear outside the strip club, the girl wrapped up in one of Roman's jackets she'd stolen from the security room and smoking by the back entrance, cigarette in her opposing hand. Despite the coverage of his coat it was obvious she worked there from the platform heels strapped to her ankles, the glitter that coated her thighs and the make-up she wore that made her lips glisten and her brown eyes seem more seductive. No one needed to see the lingerie beneath to understand she was an employee.

Sofia tightening her grasp on the jacket as she listened to his answer, crossing one heel over the other. "You should have come to work if you wanted a show, Roman," she responded to his taunting with her, the words cold by her tone soft, a slight smile appearing on the edge of those shining lips. Despite the vulgarities he was uttered she couldn't stop herself, cheeks creating a natural pink in the evening light that showed the way he did not quite make her embarrassed but made her...excited.

"Fuck off," she laughed, a gentle eye roll. He was just a hook up, That's what she told herself, while wearing his jacket and wondering how long she might get to stay this time. "Just pick me up at like three, Roman, the later you are the longer you wait," she insisted before he said goodbye and she brought the phone down, along with the chain that wrapped around her wrist made of various shaped beads for it.

It was only once the phone was down she noticed someone looking at her who was not a customer hoping to convince her for some off the clock action, or, at least, Sofia didn't get those vibes from her. "You need something, honey?" Sofia asked, shoving her phone away, cigarette lingering in her opposing hand, smoke drifting from it.

@angstfactory

[violet-lamerton]

STARTER: Milvi & Violet LOCATION: Supernaturals STATUS: CLOSED

It was another standard day at the club, although things were a little more quiet than usual which Violet definitely preferred. While it was fun to be the centre of attention and to have heaps of clients to entertain, it did get tiring, and this way Violet could take the time really scope people out. She’d been doing her usual set up on the stage, lean figure bending and circling the pole as her eyes roamed over the few people who were watching her when they landed on an unfamiliar female face. She looked beautiful, although quite young, her red hair flowing over her shoulders in easy waves. Her expression was one that betrayed her nerves, and Violet’s heart softened as she looked at her. Once her set was done, she made her way over to the woman, slipping into the seat next to her and touching her gently on the shoulder. “Hey you… is this your first time here?” she asked softly, a sultry smile on her face as their eyes met. 

@milvimurray​ 

[opheliasflood]

perhaps the only good thing to come out of what had happened was the suddenly lack of people mulling around opulence, many adjusting to their own personal new normals - ophelia was one of those humans now given something akin to a superpower. that was why she was glad for the scarcity of people, for people thought so loudly she’d come to avoid areas with more than a handful of people in them. the blonde had yet to return to supernatural’s, afraid of hearing some of those men’s thoughts as she twirled around the pole. the blonde had donned the cardigan her good friends had bought her at the founders day event, a pair of jeans and trainers as she walked home from a late shopping trip.

a voice, then, not like one she had ever heard. it licked the inside of her mind, tantalising, raw with need and it made ophelia jump with how suddenly it called out to her. that wasn’t thinking loudly, that was projecting, the same voice speaking a thousand things at once in a frenzy large enough to make her head ache with its ferocity.

the blonde whipped round, looking for to whom in belonged. there was only one other, walking near her yes but that gaze - intense. so intense, it might sear her flesh and it so plucked up into bumps. but those eyes belonged to a face familiar, for she had only seen it a day or so prior. thalia, with whom she had shown how to play hook a duck.

“hey, tal,” she greeted, perhaps overly friendly. she felt nervous. so fucking nervous. “you get out of the...founders day okay?”

@thalia-stone​

[yashicanandarchive]

⌝ "Little Fionn?" Yash asked, leaning in front of the chair where the young boy sat in the club. It was relatively late in the night, the music was going and mostly naked dancers wandered the club asking if people wanted private dances, while those on the stage moved for the money that customers on the edge placed before them. The air smelt like sex and axe body spray, glitter was on the laps of most inside and while Yash typically expected to see Ryden stopping by for Mars, Gabe who practically drooled over Sofia, and Raffy who seemed to preference Violet, she did not expect to see the grown up face of one of her old friends little brothers.

⌝ Smile on her face she moved closer to make sure that the distinct jaw was indeed that of Fionn Christie, Yashica not having seen him or his sisters in...well...at least four or five years...something like that. It wasn't like she and his sister had been crazy close but like most in the small town everyone was close enough to go to each other's parties and to talk in classes with one another.

⌝ "Are you and your family back in town?" she cooed, looking between him and the half naked girl on the stage. "You're so grown up. No more acne," she praised, perhaps not the type of compliment the young man wanted.

@fionnchristie

[sirensofiaarchive]

Is it true you're going to stop working at the club? Who will I give my dollars to after you leave, mamacita?

"I'm not leaving, baby. I couldn't just abandon my favourites when you treat me so well."

[taleswrittena]

@multusmusae sent ‘I can’t tell if that was arrogant or just … you know, honest.’ ( @ klaus hargreeves from john constantine. )

renegade starter meme thingy||accepting

It's amazing what some eyeliner, heels, and not giving a shit gets them. Dirty looks from bigots and people chasing after them because they want them.

She knows she's attractive, with the leather pants with lace all up the sides and the heeled leather boots she wears, along with the graphic crop top that reads "Satan Made Me Do It" across the front, revealing flesh without a care in the world. She certainly sticks out like a sore thumb and she doesn't give a shit.

Lips curl up in a teasing smirk at the man who sits down beside him at the bar. His eyes travel towards the man who is sulking, walking away from him with an air of defeat about him. A guy who tried to get into Klaus' pants. Grumbling insults Klaus' way, talking about "fine. don't even know what you are anyway" which only serves to amuse him. Oh, how he loves confusing people with his gender identity.

Usually, she doesn't mind, but she's tired of sleeping with people that don't catch her eye tonight. Just enough to make a little money and get the drugs she often craves.

She's done with that tonight.

John must have caught the "Sweetheart, you couldn't afford or handle me." that they had told the poor bastard walking away from them.

He glances down at the glass in front of him full of whiskey. Probably not the greatest idea to mix booze and drugs that he doesn't even know what the hell they are, but he goes for it anyway, hand with 'goodbye' written over the palm picking up his glass and head tilting back to down the drink all in one go.

Finally, she turns her gaze back to Constantine. If she's aware of how constricted her pupils seem, she doesn't seem to care. "Maybe a bit of both." The grin on her face only widens as she gives John a once-over.

"What about you, mystery man? Can you afford or handle me? Buy a girl a drink and maybe I'll lend you my time."

[m-ayo-o]

seeingdouble ɘldυobϱniɘɘƨ

KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself. 

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him. 

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi. 

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money. 

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use. 

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it. 

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.  

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive. 

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck. 

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness. 

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–” 

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman. 

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body. 

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more. 

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time. 

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile. 

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.” 

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken. 

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting. 

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes. 

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least. 

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet. 

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing. 

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers. 

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms. 

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji 

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking. 

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy. 

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs. 

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?” 

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands. 

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags. 

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. 

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic. 

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move. 

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he���s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—” 

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.” 

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him. 

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit. 

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness. 

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation. 

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty. 

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine. 

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

[clangenrising]

If you don’t mind constructive criticism, I just wanna say, outright using the word “sex” is a bit inappropriate. Like, you mentioned this blog will never depict sexual content on screen, but stating that word onscreen seems a bit…much. I know the header states that there might be some content of that sort but I still think it would be better if you refrain from directly stating that word, since a notable number of your fans are minors.

I disagree. Strongly.

First of all, having frank discussions about sex is not inappropriate. Sex is a normal part of human life and the more taboo we make it the less prepared people are for actually interacting with it. Saying I shouldn't mention sex outright because some of my audience are minors is like saying there shouldn't be sex ed in schools because it would be inappropriate and that's just not true. It's been proven over and over that sex ed and discussing sex with minors in a responsible way leads to them having safer sex when they do decide to become sexually active. So no, it's not inappropriate for me to mention sex.

Secondly, how is saying the word sex any worse than strongly alluding to the fact that Razor has sexually assaulted Scorchplume? Is the latter fine just because I never say "sex" outright? Because I would argue that THAT is probably the thing that edges closest into being NSFW and it's still not inappropriate and I'm not going to stop doing either of those things because this is a story about human connections (told through cats) and that includes how they engage with sex. That's the story I want to tell and it's resonated with a lot of people and I'm not going to censor myself.

Thirdly, even if there are minors in my audience, it's not my job to control the content they engage with. Like I've said, I'm never going to depict sexual content on screen so I don't think I have to cordon my work off just because some of the characters have sex lives and talk about them sometimes. My stuff is no worse than most teen dramas anyway. If my work makes a minor uncomfortable then thats on them to stop engaging with my work. I'm not going to stop making what I want to make bevause some minors found it. Its not like i cultivated a young audience on purpose so I could show them something inappropriate. I don't think my work is inappropriate in the first place and just because it's mature doesn't mean I should change its content so its more "kid friendly" or that I need to police who is reading it.

So I won't be taking that piece of criticism. If you take constructive criticism, I would urge you to re-examine why you think saying the word sex is inappropriate and then educate yourself on why sex ed and frank discussions of these kinds of topics is important.

[violet-lamerton]

Starter: A date with a stranger Location: The Cage Status: CLOSED

It had been a couple of weeks since Violet had seen Rafael, their last interaction being one that had burned itself into Violet’s mind. She’d replayed it over and over, and she couldn’t get his face out of her brain. He was the first thing she thought of when she woke up, and the last thing she thought of before she went to sleep, and it made her feel like she was going crazy. This wasn’t like her - she didn’t fall for people like this, not this quickly. Sure, she had crushes here and there on her clients, but this? This was next level, and it actually frightened her. What’s more, word of her interactions with Raf and Ale had gotten back to Yashica and she hadn’t been impressed, which Violet knew was completely reasonable. But her friend (and boss’) disapproval only further exacerbated Violet’s fear about her growing feelings for the man she’d never even had a proper conversation with.

So, when a guy asked her out on a date when she’d been enjoying a quiet drink after work at a nearby bar, she’d said yes, with the hope that perhaps a new romance might get her mind off of Rafael. So there she was, walking hand in hand with Pete, wearing a skin-tight red dress which perfectly hugged her figure, about to enter an establishment called The Cage. Violet had heard of it before, but the nature of what happened there didn’t really appeal to her so she had never visited of her own accord. They’d had a couple of drinks when he suggested it, and her tipsy state had allowed her to agree easily. He pulled the door open for her and she stepped through, giggling slightly as she followed him towards their seats, their shoulders knocking together and hands intertwined. 

@raffyperez​ 

[boyfriendgideon]

as yr favorite local jason todd fan sometimes i get so fed up with the apparent inability of most dc comic writers to write a class conscious narrative about him.

and yes, i know that comics are a very ephemeral and constantly evolving and self-conflicting medium.

and yes, i know they’re a profit-driven art medium created in a capitalistic society, so there are very few times where comics are going to be created solely out of the desire to authentically and carefully and deliberately represent a character and take them from one emotional narrative place to another, because dc cares about profit and sometimes playing it safe is what sells.

and yes, i know comics and other forms of art reflect and recreate the society within which they were conceived as ideas, and so the dominant societal ideas about gender and race and class and so on are going to be recreated within comics (and/or will be responded to, if the writer is particularly societally conscious).

but jesus christ. you (the writer/writers) have a working class character who has been homeless, who has lost multiple parents, who has been in close proximity to someone struggling with addiction, who has had to steal to survive, who may have (depending on your reading of several different moments across different comics created by different people) been a victim of csa, who has clearly (subtextually) struggled with his mental health, who was a victim of a violent murder, and who has an entirely distinct and unique perspective on justice that has evolved based on his lived experiences.

and instead of delving into any of that, or examining the myriad of ways that classism in the writers’ room and the editors’ room and the readers’ heads affected jason’s character to make sure you’re writing him responsibly, or giving him a plotline where his views on what justice looks like are challenged by another working class character, or allowing him to demonstrate actual autonomy and agency in deciding what relationships he wants to have with people who he loves but sees as having failed him in different ways, or thinking carefully about what his having chosen an alias that once belonged to his murderer says about his decision-making and motivations, you keep him stuck in a loop of going by the red hood, addressing crime by occupying a position of relative power that perpetuates crime & harm rather than ever getting at the root causes, and seesawing between a) agreeing with his adoptive family entirely about fighting nonlethally in ways that are often inconsistent with his apparent motivations or b) disagreeing and experiencing unnecessarily brutal and violent reactions from his adoptive father as if that kind of violence isn’t the kind of thing he experienced as a child and something bruce himself is trying to prevent jason from perpetuating. because a comic with red hood, quips, high stakes, and familial drama sells.

it doesn’t matter if it keeps jason trapped, torn between an unanswered moral and philosophical question, a collection of identities that no longer fit him, and a family that accepts him circumstantially. it doesn’t matter if jason’s characterization is so utterly inconsistent that the only way to mesh it together is to piece different aspects of different titles and plotlines together like a jigsaw. it doesn’t matter if you do a disservice to his character, because in the end you don’t want to transform him or even understand him deeply enough to identify what makes him compelling and focus on that.

and i love jason!!!!! i love him. and i think about the stories we could have, if quality and art and doing justice to the character were prioritized as much as selling a title and having a dark and brooding batfam member besides bruce just to be the black sheep character are prioritized. and i just get a little sad.

[jiraisupportgroup]

Can jirais be white? Maybe this is a stupid question, maybe it’s a white privileged ass question, but I’m genuinely wondering because I keep seeing people on Jirai Twitter flaming the opinions of white jirais. Like, I’m white and I’ve spent a long time couch surfing, doing sex work to survive, having my interpersonal relationships crumble at every turn, I cut I drink I smoke I do drugs…but what, my opinions don’t matter because I’m not from Japan?? I’m honestly fucking lost, I found a place I fit in but I don’t know anymore. And what about jirais who don’t live in Japan, that don’t do sex work, don’t spend frivolously in host clubs or aren’t homeless??? Are the rest of their issues that make them a landmine forfeited simply because they don’t check a few of the other boxes? I don’t understand, I need to ask someone. People are always going to complain that you aren’t fucked up enough.

Help.

I don’t think it’s a stupid question at all!

Please note that I’m not an expert or a spokesperson for Jirai Kei, I’m also not Japanese, I don’t speak Japanese - I would take my opinion with a grain of salt. I don’t actually feel qualified to talk abt this tbh T_T

The general sentiment that I see is that white (or otherwise non-Japanese) people can be Jirai Kei but be respectful & understanding about it.

To my knowledge “Jirai” is a term used to stereotype someone as a “crazy girl” or “crazy girlfriend” - it’s not really tied to any specific action or set of symptoms. It is often used against girls who do have scars or wear ryousangata or work in sex work or con cafes, but it’s also used against people who don’t do those things. Its not an endearing term or point of pride, it’s used derogatorily. “Jirai Kei” is playing off of that term. It’s similar to how in western societies people call anyone who looks slightly alternative “emo” but to my knowledge “jirai” has stronger negative connotations than “emo” does & is still used in a derogatory manner.

I think it’s important to know that Jirai Kei was born out of Kabukicho. There are a lot of themes of sex work, self harm, emotional instability, addiction, host club or boy band obsessions, homelessness, etc. They are important parts of the subculture, but it also has grown a lot since 2019. You don’t have to engage in or have a history with those things to be “Jirai Kei”, but you have to understand & be respectful of the fact that those are very common themes in the subculture.

Generally, it’s agreed that Jirai Kei is a space for mentally unstable people. This doesn’t mean that you have to be venting online or constantly in distress or anti-recovery: more so, you know what it’s like to be in a dark place and you’re respectful / understanding of that, whether you’re currently in that place or not. It’s similar to menhera but a bit more jaded. Menhera’s core things are accessibility, awareness, support, positivity, understanding, acceptance, etc. Some people find more comfort in Jirai Kei because sentiments of not being ready to or able to recover are generally a bit more accepted, although many people are part of both subcultures.

Additionally, it’s important to note that as foreigners, we can’t really “reclaim” Jirai - it’s not a term that is used against us. We don’t live in the same socioeconomic setting that Jirai Kei was born out of. A big example of this is social reaction to the fashions associated with Jirai Kei, like dark girly kei and ryousangata. When I go out in my town in a dark girly coord I don’t get called an emotionally unstable mass produced sex worker, people usually say I look really nice or cute or generally compliment me. Very very different reactions, and that’s important to acknowledge. Our experiences are different. That doesn’t mean we can’t relate to or find comfort in or be a part of Jirai Kei, but it’s important to know that Japanese Jirais and foreign Jirais have very different experiences even with the same things. I liken it to foreign gals. Gyaru is a pushback against Japanese beauty standards, so when you’re a foreigner gyaru styles often aren’t contrary to beauty standards you’re subjected to, but it’s still generally okay to be gyaru as a foreigner as long as you understand that. Just be respectful / understanding about that ykwim?

Most of the time when I see people complaining about white girls in Jirai Kei they’re mostly complaining about girls who are only into the fashion or cute parts of Jirai and try to sanitize the subculture. Essentially - you can’t come into a Japanese subculture based around mental struggles as a foreigner and decide you’re going to denounce parts of it to make it more acceptable. That’s kind of weird & disrespectful in my opinion. It’s fine to only want to engage in the cutesy parts like girly kei and collecting boy band photo cards, but it’s not really Jirai Kei, which is fine just like… don’t call it Jirai Kei when it’s not.

Part of why there are people who are very intense about saying you have to be “fucked up enough” to be Jirai Kei is because they’re radically pushing back against people who come into Jirai Kei spaces and then complain about the toxicity or try to sanitize the subculture. In my opinion they do end up friendly-firing T_T

A lot of people don’t want post about their struggles online. Someone’s account could be super happy sunshine and sparkles and bows and positivity all the time, but they could still very well be struggling behind all of that. I think some people are so tired of problematic fashion Jirais that they end up saying people who don’t post about their struggles openly can’t be Jirai Kei. I disagree with that? You don’t owe people your history or struggles. You don’t have to publicly talk about your history or struggles to be a part of the subculture. It’s a bit strange to pressure people to talk about these things in order to be accepted in the community, even though I understand where they’re coming from. I don’t personally see this a lot but I also don’t use Twitter which is where this seems to be most common.

Overall - as long as you acknowledge the origins / history, don’t try to denounce the “dark parts” of Jirai Kei, and understand that Japanese Jirais and foreign jirais have different experiences you’re generally good as far as I can tell.

Idk if that all made sense - I’m crazy sleep deprived from work - but hopefully that makes sense / answers your question? But again I’m just a stranger on the internet and I’m also not Japanese so please take all that with a grain of salt.

[sirensofiaarchive]

Hey sexy, call me? 😏

"Pay me."

[fanofstuff01]

You want more angsty stuff? Hehe

You said that Angel was saved by Charlie right? Well what if before Adam became a full on hermit him and Angel were friends?

I love holydust friendship so much.

But even though they were best friends, Angel never judged him or believed what people said about him, they did drugs and drank together. Adam didn't judge Angel back even if he did harder drugs.

But one time they got so high Adam thought Angel was dead and blamed himself. Angel didn't die but he came close. This was his wakeup call.

They would still text each other but Adam couldn't bring himself to see Angel anymore.

Angel even came by his apartment but Adam wouldn't open the door.

Idk when Angel dies in your au, but if it's before Adam gets better that's another layer on the trauma lasagna.

Angel is actually Charlie’s last (but not least) subject.

I love the idea that they were friends. Maybe Angel also fell in depression because he lost Adam and blamed himself for making him worse.

You know how I want them to meet?

Through Valentino.

Maybe Angel also uses the same app with Adam, but unlike him, he was more associated with Val. He also did… Spicier stuff to sell with Valentino. Probably the account is actually Val’s and he’s just one of his whores. He has a deal similar to the original, he’s supposed to work for Val for 15 years.

And… One day Val offers and convinces both Adam and Angel to make a video together, saying they’d get so much money. And they do it.

That’s how they meet and how they become friends. People, especially his family thinks bad of Angel as well so he really doesn’t mind.

And the thing you said.

As in terms of when and how Anthony died though… I don’t think my baby can handle more trauma. Seriously, he at least deserves it to be when he was starting to become better. Or at least when Lucifer is there.

How he died… He had an ‘accident’ with Val. The prick shot him I fucking hate that moth man.

So he died just when his anxiety was decreasing. Lucifer & Adam went to his funeral, luckily Alastor wasn’t going to visit him for 3 months, he helped him recover but still most of the progress was gone.

Aftermath of the funeral, Adam is sleeping at his house:

Lucifer, he invited Charlie to his place to discuss this: Do you have any idea how much it fucked up his progress? Are you sure you couldn’t save him?!

Charlie: I’m sorry Lu. Heaven told me this.

Lucifer: He is going to be down even more bad…

Charlie: Maybe they can send him to see him in his dream?

Lucifer: They can do that?

[lady-phasma]

I have been wondering about Dune 2 scene with Feyd being seduced by Lady Margot. In the book Feyd is already physically attracted to Margot, fom my understanding without her having to use her powers on his mind...so in the movie I was wondering if he was already physically attracted to her, but she used her powers to make sure he wasn't going to hurt her? Your thoughts? Also kinda felt like the Reverend Mother just basically sent Margot into a potential dangerous situation with Feyd full knowing that she could be harmed!! I love your thoughts on this pairing!!

So in the book Feyd is very taken with her immediately and is a cocky asshole and I love him for it. He's also a little besotted. I can't find the quote but, essentially, Feyd asks her for her hand in marriage before the arena fight in front of her husband. She declines and it's actually a slightly humorous scene.

In the film... well, I may have an unpopular opinion but the way I see it, he's probably attracted to anyone as pretty as she is. I'm not saying that he can only be viewed this way, but I do think that is part of why Margot was selected. She is beautiful and the Reverend Mother knows that Feyd could be easily manipulated.

but she used her powers to make sure he wasn't going to hurt her?

I really dig this part of your question! I honestly hadn't thought about it exactly like that, but now that you mention it I think that could definitely be part of it. Fans disagree on how far into this scene Feyd was under the influence of the Voice. Personally, I think he was under her control for 90% of it. Until he put his hand in the box. Perhaps after that it was consensual, but we can't know because it isn't shown in the film.

I think his ability to try and fight the Voice is evident when he has this moment of frustration and rage: "Do not mock me woman!" Additionally, when he wakes from his hypnosis briefly outside her room.

I love an opportunity to make a new gif, thank you for that.

There are really two parts to your question: would Feyd have "hurt" Lady Margot at all and, if so, did the Reverend Mother put her in harm's way?

My headcanon isn't that he wouldn’t harm her in any way outside of a sexual situation. (That may have been exactly what you meant.) I also don’t feel that he would have assaulted her. But this is something we have to consider: was Margot consenting? Think of this as her job. Yes, she went to Giedi Prime with the plan to become pregnant but plenty of people perform sex acts as part of their job and there is a lot of debate as to whether or not that is consensual. Additionally, I fall on the side of the argument that Feyd, himself, was not fully consenting. We can't know the type of sex they engaged in, but I don't believe he was able to make that decision entirely for himself in that moment.

Had Margot not used the Voice on him, I fully believe he would not have been submissive, but he would have been consenting. Of course, in fanfiction writing we can write that scene however we want. However, based solely on what is presented on screen there is no evidence that either of them truly consented.

Was the Reverend Mother complicit in this? Completely. All of the Bene Gesserit would be. Would Feyd have, potentially, been less compliant without the Voice? I believe so. He is "sexually vulnerable," according to their assessment but they never explain what that means. There is an additional clue that I have yet to make my mind up about: "he longs to be hurt." I'm not sure where I stand on the interpretation of this, but my initial reaction is that the Bene Gesserit (Margot included) never intended him to consent outright. If I apply that interpretation to the final outcome then, perhaps, neither the Reverend Mother nor Margot ever felt Margot was in any danger at all.

That may not be as concrete an answer as you wanted, but I think that there are many ways to interpret "hurt" and it seems to me the mostly likely hurt for any parties involved in this scenario isn't physical but emotional. Neither of them is emotionally stable based on this interaction so they both have the capacity to inflict damage on the other.

[jaxie101]

nsfw/

i have nothing against smut writers i love you guys 🙏 and maybe it’s bc im gay but HELP “mike would make you wear a cute little skirt and f****** you in public-“ that man is RIDDLED with anxiety ok i get it it’s ur thing but PLS… “he’d spoil u with diamonds and pearls🥰” poor guy can’t afford oreo’s. ur getting a can of pringles and a teddy bear from the dollar store at BEST

[angelsdean]

also re: my dean + sex work post, and especially the quote from 1x08 where dean's talking abt making money through non-legal ways like hustling and scamming and he says, "it's what we were raised to do" and then connecting that to the scene in 1x20 where john tells dean "you know what to do" cut to-- dean playing monster bait (and being nonconsensually kissed by a vampire) and then connecting that to the cut line from 14x14 where dean tells cas that john used to make him play the wide-eyed hitchhiker routine as monster bait on hunts. dean was groomed from a young age by john to see his body as nothing more than a tool and weapon. he learned from a young age that his body is an object. he is daddy's blunt little instrument. he is something that can be used for a purpose and then discarded. he's repeatedly used as a soldier and weapon by john when he's needed and then abandoned and neglected when he's not. and i think that mentality absolutely influenced how he saw his body in relation to sex and sex work. and i'm not saying sex work can't be empowering or positive for some people but in dean's specific case and circumstances it wouldn't have really been a choice but more a desperate last ditch option. but one that he doesn't even waver much on because of all these prior experiences that have primed him for being objectified. like he's already had so much of his personhood stripped, he'd already been objectified as a weapon, seeing himself as expendable and only useful when he's being used. all of this made him so vulnerable and desensitized in a way that sex work for survival wouldn't even be a huge jump for him. it's another way he can be useful and make sure he's providing for his brother and fulfilling his number one job as caretaker.