#she's just a little unhinged in the best way

[if-chaos-was-a-boy]

Hi everyone! It's me, Eden the mod of calix and a few other ocs again.

[TW. SA, strong language, read at your own discretion and risk]

After a lot of consideration, I thought it would be best to follow up with a clearer and more detailed account of the situation with the Circe Blog. I did not initially want to make this statement but I owe it to people to give my point of view, in hopes that others can understand a little more context.

Let's start from the beginning, when I was first alerted to this situation by my friend Lilly @unhinged-waterlilly on 14th of September. [She has explained more in her own post, I strongly recommend checking it out, it is tagged at the bottom of her intro]

I was still pretty confused about the finer details and decided to ask Jack about it. I expressed my concern at the switch of Odysseus from a victim of sexual assault to a rapist. They told me that it was an AU and that it wasn't canon.

And at that point of time, I did not think too much about it, I just hid my disagreements and let the conversation end.

Jack reopened the topic by telling me about a strongly worded ask they got. And after looking through it, I agreed with the overall sentiment but did not agree with the way it was delivered.

The person who wrote the ask has since apologized to Jack and made it clear that they do not agree with the way they've worded the ask.

But after watching how jack reacted to getting this criticism, I made the decision to recommend them to write the apology.

At first I wanted Jack to write it by themselves, as it was more genuine but after hearing

some of their concerns with writing apologies regarding these important and serious issues

Seeing their plans for how they would write the apology

It was clear that if I let Jack write the apology alone, it would not have been an apology. It would have been a hole filled statement which did not address key issues. It would have done harm to others and to them. And as someone who truly considered them a close friend, I didn't want to see anyone hurt.

this is the link to my apology for writing the jack’s statement

And so, l asked Jack to blurt out everything they wanted me to reword.

And it pissed me off that in all of their rants, the word sorry did not appear once.

The context did not make an appearance as well.

At that point of time I thought it was reasonable until I caught the number of times I needed to add "I'm sorry" and "Remorseful" in the apology.

Initially they wanted to delete the Circe blog immediately, but I convinced them that it should be done AFTER the

statement/apology was up, as it would only be right because it was mentioned in the apology.

I also advised them to stay off rp for a while, to let everyone breathe and they proceeded to tell me that they were addicted to p but again, because I had no context, I did not think much of it.

Maybe I should have probed further, maybe I should have asked.

But at that point, I had just written a long, long statement and I was drained, emotionally and physically. The past is the past, I will no longer keep thinkin about the what ifs and could haves of this situation.

Then came the post Jack made after me, Lilly and Skh had made our statements. His boyfriend had come online with the intention to understand the situation.

But this whole fucking post read to me like it was made with the intention to villainise our statements. And the sheer fact that I can pick up on that is concerning to me, doesn’t matter if it’s on purpose. As soon as your question post starts sounding accusatory, something is WRONG.

What's the harm in such a post? Well.

People who see that post THEN read our statements have a filter on.

Suddenly our concerns become twisted into scathing judgment.

Our opinions and thoughts get distorted to hurtful and hateful messages.

None of us. Me, Lilly or Skh said the phrase 'I hate Jack' in any of our statements.

What drove me to make this statement is to share my side of the story, so it could be valuable to anyone who needs it.

Onto my feelings and views on the situation, I was sympathetic and supportive for most of the time period of this shitshow.

But I am upset and angry that my friend Lilly needed to make a statement that she shouldn't have to make.

I am disappointed at the management of this situation by Jack

And I am sorry that this got out of hand. This situation that should and could have been resolved so so long ago got this widespread and hurtful.

I'd like to add that i do not hate Jack. I don't hate people.

I get disappointed in people. I hate ACTIONS.

Right now, I'm feeling an immense amount of burnout, hurt and stress from this situation.

This is going to be my plan of action:

I don't think I am going to be interacting or talking to Jack. At least not in the way we used to talk. My trust has been compromised and I need time.

I am going to be less active in my main for awhile. I need time.

I am open to queries or anything, just please be respectful.

have my own views and opinions about some other things that I will not disclose right now.

I am tired.

@that-girl-cupid

@goddess-of-bubblegum

@unhinged-waterlilly

@love-lightning-forethought

@iceweavercatlover / @debacleofdaemons

@chaos-pers0nified

@stephen-the-spider

@bambi-the-dummy

@emdabitchass

@i-was-never-sane

@athenas-weirdo-daughter

@divine-wine-daughter

@kaiaalwayswins

@smileyalater

@daonedaonlyskh

@bast-the-best26

@kiaradaughterofselene

@pink-koi-lovejoy

@itsyourboyezra

@hispanic-child-of-hermes

@mireya-the-awkward-extrovert

@gellyhelio

@ariathemortal

@arisdaughter

@syd-the-nerd

@steve-the-union-man

@psychicbluebirdmiracle

@madson-of-hermes-notluke

@thegroovydaughterofhestia

@the-olympus-assassin

@heraaaaaaaa

[strangerwheelerthings]

Nancy Wheeler is both a frequent holder of the group braincell, AND the least pragmatic of the entire hawkins crew. This girl is the most trusted and respected by adults of any of them. She is the leader of the group by essentially unanimous vote. She is also just a tad unhinged, in the best way.

This girl is the one who unhesitatingly crawled right through a muck dripping unexplained hole in a tree without even pausing to catch Jonathan’s attention.

This same girl has never asked for actual permission in her life.

Nancy saw a monster that they had no idea how to kill, and immediately went on the hunt before she learned how to shoot a gun.

She breaks laws and lies left and right (for a good cause, but with minimal evidence).

She hears an old man blame a murder on a locked up 70 year old man, based on a great deal of town superstition, and immediately and fullheartedly believed in the connection. She was right.

She listens to an old widow tell her about some rats in her basement and declares it the story of the year. She was right.

She responds to her possesed jerk-face coworker mockingly calling 'Marco' with "POLO" before bashing his face in.

She paused a murder investigation to pet a dog.

She has a guy sneak into her room, and she genuinely studies chemistry the entire time he is there. (So proud of her for this one, actually.)

She keeps guns in a shoebox in her closet. The only guns she owns are stolen. She owns two of them.

She keeps using guns despite them having proven to be the least effective weapon against demo-creatures.

She runs a school newspaper with as much seriousness and effort as a nationwide publication.

She dressed up as an elf out of enthusiasm for a DnD campaign. She will never admit she ever played the game.

She recruited a random conspiracy journalist and told him the entire Upside Down story without hesitation. She was correct about him.

She purposefully had the Hawkins Lab kidnap them in order to record a confession she didn't know she would get.

She dove into a lake without hesitation immediately after a friend was taken by an unknown monster.

She successfully lied her way into an asylum within hours of deciding to go there, and decided the way to escape was just to blatantly run across the courtyard despite guards being one step behind them.

I love her. ❤️

[noahtally-famous]

not me popping back on here with a post after months of semi-inactivity (uni is being a bitch) just to reiterate how much i love writing the pahkitew island cast.

aside from sammy and amy (obviously), literally everyone else can be shipped with one another and it'd make sense to some degree, like it takes skill to create a group of people so inherently shippable (platonically and/or romantically) and ofc the writers didn't know it they just shoved a bunch of random ppl together and dusted their hands off on it but fr tho 😭

(yeah im planning out my leonave 'stranger things inspired' au, and the gears are turning, and i forgot just how much i love writing for this dumbass group)

(i swear im working on the next chapter of a guide to surviving the apocalypse too)

[dweebstatus4ages]

💜😊

[amitieos]

🥂 "What'd you think would happen if I smashed this bottle and cut the nearest person with it?" Griss wraps his fingers around the neck of an unopened bottle of champagne and thoughtfully tests its weight. There's a broken kind of smile on his face, an excited look in his eyes when they dart toward Elincia. "How fast you think we'd get a second Battle of the Eagle and Lion in here?"

That was definitely not the question she expected to hear. Although she isn't sure what she anticipated really. He seems rather rowdy but he'd likely fit right in at some of the parties hosted in Crimea at the Greil's Retreat pub.

After all, it's never truly a party in Crimea until someone drunkenly somersaults into a wall. (Unless it's a Duke's ball, one she must attend out of courtesy despite how dry the company.)

"I think it would more likely be the Battle of Garreg Mach versus Griss if you tried that," which strangely does little to discourage him. If anything his grin widens. His excitement is palpable. She frowns - it's not that she cannot understand the thrill of battle but she would hate to see someone here hurt whilst trying to relax. At first she had thought, or at least hoped he was joking. "I see that does little to dissuade you."

She finds it admirable, in a way. His lust for an opportunity to prove himself, to ameliorate his strengths and better prepare for battle. Then she imagines him swinging a bottle at Maria or Edward and her stomach drops. Now is not the time and place.

"If you really must, we could take this outside. I'd hate for someone else to get hurt unwitting and unwillingly," her fingertips graze the top of Amiti's hilt, always by her side even if it had remained sheathed today. She supposes she would have fair reason to draw it if he approached with the jagged end of a broken bottle. Training weapons would be preferable. "If you must spar with someone, I'm always happy to oblige. We have children in attendance here though and we should probably spare them a bar fight."

[nie7027]

Omg my best friends little sister just contacted me asking me if we could talk some day because she needs help with something and her brother(my best friend) is on a trip and apparently he has told her she could go to me if she needed anything and he wasn't present and OMG THE TRUST 😭😭😭

You don't understand it!

Her little sister is the most precious thing in the world to him!

Likes he's a pretty mellow sweet guy and her sister is the only thing I have ever seen him go fierce in the more than 10 years we have known each other!

I'm so fhhendkdkdn 😭😭😭😭😭

I feel like I'm holding the most fragile thing in the world and he trusts me completely with me

Fuck I sure hope I don't ruin it

[chuluoyi]

✎ rivals... in love?

- gojo satoru x reader

gojo is in shambles—so suguru might have a crush on you too?

genre: high school!gojo being a menace but pls spare him he just can't take losing, you see... crack, totally jealous!gojo, justice for geto, enemies to lovers, fluff

note: people have been asking for this so this is up next! i'm writing this while listening to bigbang's bang bang bang and fantastic baby so if gojo is a bit unhinged... you know why

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

No way. There is just no way.

Satoru felt his eyes itch and twitch uncomfortably. Despite the opaque black tint of his sunglasses, he could still distinctly see you happily giggling.

“Geto-san, that’s so funny!”

With Suguru. His ride or die. Your massive crush.

Your crisp laughter rang in his ears, scorching his ego and igniting it in flames—that was precisely the reaction he had hoped to receive from you too!

"Aren't they just cute?" Yaga was suddenly beside him with a wistful smile, looking at you and his other student a few feet away. "What do the television say again... a perfect match? In this case, a perfect match made in jujutsu school, then."

And responding to your bubbly self, creating the very picture of perfect match made in jujutsu school indeed, Suguru was every bit as enthusiastic. “Nah, wait until you see this—”

"Perfect match my ass," Satoru grumbled outwardly, rolling his eyes, but he immediately dashed away before his teacher could bonk him in the head for cussing.

It was harmless conversation, or jokes, or whatever. Because Suguru couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. His type is women of gravure magazines—Satoru had deemed it as such.

…Right?

At this point, he wasn't in enough denial to say that he didn't like you, because he had made it so clear that he was, in fact, obsessed. He wasn’t shying away from the things he did, which included annoying you constantly, asking you out after school, helping you in missions, and sending you few pick up lines here and there.

And he thought he was certain he could whisk you off your feet. After all, who else could measure up to him and win?

Heh, no one.

(or basically that's just him ignoring the intrusive little voice in his mind that whispered, “Suguru!”)

“So what's with the nice act, huh?” Satoru blew his bangs in a huff as he questioned his best friend with a twinge of dissatisfaction. “Do you like her or something?”

Suguru quirked his eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I have noticed how you two have been joined at the hip lately,” and with deliberate intention to spite his best friend, he made the sourest face as he mockingly recited, “Wait till you see this~”

Instantly realizing what he meant, Suguru burst into a loud snicker. “Come on, Satoru, really? Surely you aren't that petty. We were just chatting—”

“Not that. I know. What I'm asking now is that do you like her or not?”

It wasn't a rare sight to see Satoru with a pout and a frown, and usually he'd humor him. But this time, even Suguru could see that there was something different in the way he asked this. And should he say something that irked him then—

“Heh, so what if I am?”

That's the wrong answer.

Satoru halted abruptly, whipping his head around in sheer shock. "What the heck?"

“She’s a nice junior, kind, easy on the eyes,” Suguru shrugged, flashing him a dauntless smile. “Only a fool would let the chance pass up. Satoru, if you keep dawdling, one of these days, I just might—”

“Wha—hey!? That’s totally foul—!”

“Nah, they do say all is fair in love and war now, isn’t it?”

By a mind-boggling twist of events, apparently his best friend was also a guy after his dream girl. Satoru was irked, challenged, and he would never admit it, but a tiny part of him recoiled because Suguru clearly had an early start and a boost—you favored him first.

This was unexpected, and now he was conjuring up various scenarios of what he should do. He must act fast or else...

Little did he know that Suguru was thoroughly relishing his restlessness.

Everyone around you said that your relationship with Gojo Satoru... is intriguing to say the least. And especially ever since that one botched mission you two went, you also felt there was a shift in your dynamics.

And if by intriguing they mean him constantly blocking your way and invading your space, then yes, it definitely is.

"Okay, okay, but wait, just hear me out!"

You halted your steps and faced him with an annoyed frown. You really had no time for this. You were about to be sent on a mission. "Gojo, really, can't you just—"

"Okay, I know he's dashing, or whatever," he huffed, the last word he said with a hint of disdain. "But hear me out, and I'm sure you'll reconsider."

"Who are you talki—"

"Who else!? Suguru, of course!"

You couldn't possibly arch your eyebrow even higher, and before you could say anything, he somehow took it as his cue to keep going.

“First, he eats curses. Cursed spirits! He eats them like rice balls! Can you imagine just how foul the taste is?”

"Gojo, I don't have the time—"

"Then! Going from that, just imagine kissing him," he stressed, eyeing you intensely as your own eyes felt like popping out by the sheer suggestion. "What if you taste the cursed spirits rice ball?"

"You're unbeliev—"

"Wait! Can you even kiss him? What if his cursed spirits suddenly pop out of him? Are you willing to kiss his little friends—"

"He's your best friend!" you finally interjected, obviously and utterly in shock by his unhinged rambling. "How could you say all of that?"

"No, you're getting me wrong." Satoru's clicked his tongue. "I'm just listing facts why it's better for you not to end up with him."

You barked a dry laugh. "And? Better with you, you mean? That's awfully biased."

"Why yes of course! Self-promo is never bad," he blatantly retorted. "Let me just tell you aallll you need to know about me!"

He audibly cracked his knuckles and puffed out his chest. "You know already, I'm strong. I can protect you well. My cursed technique doesn't involve eating curses, so you don't have to worry about tasting the said curses on my lips."

How could he blurt all of this with that perpetually playful expression? A chuckle escaped you unwittingly and that only spurred him to go on.

"And I'm handsome!" he boldly claimed, pointing at his face with pride. "And obviously I don't need to say this, but I'm filthy rich—"

At that, you burst into hearty laughter, unable to hold it in any longer.

Satoru's eyes sparkled, lit as if someone had just made his day. "All in all, you know what I mean. Everything with me, all of it is going to be fantastic!"

Even you couldn't deny that all of this exchange had been so amusing. Hilariously so. "You're down bad, huh?" you tried to taunt, although it seemed like a burst of snicker. Yet, you were caught off-guard when he said:

"For you?" his little smirk made your insides suddenly all jumbled up. "Yes."

Huh? What is this? Your bravado faltered a bit as your heart did a somersault inside.

It wasn't supposed to thump this hard. You weren't supposed to feel this overwhelming urge to squeal too. And your face wasn't supposed to grow this hot...

Seeing that, Satoru celebrated his little win, a wicked smile on his glistening lips—that somehow looked rather attractive to you now. "How? Thinking twice now, are we?"

But he couldn't believe that after all this, you would still cunningly retort with, "Ha! You wish, Gojo Satoru."

His stunned face was so comical that you chuckled once again. You wanted to rebuff him more, but before you could, Haibara's voice called you from a distance. "Heeey! Let's go! Or we're gonna be late!"

"I suppose that's my cue," you lightly shrugged, and before you left him in a dust, you could've sworn you saw a flicker of brewing tantrum behind those glasses, which brought a smirk on your face. "See ya, try harder, and I might look at your way."

Satoru was at his wit's end as he saw you sauntering away. What more that he could do so that you could be his? To keep your eyes on him and him only?

And yet, little did he know, in that beginning of summer in 2006, even before you realized it yourself, you had already did.

Epilogue

In another corner of the school, eagerly spying on you were...

"Wait! Can you even kiss him? What if his cursed spirits suddenly pop out of him? Are you willing to kiss his little friends—"

"Did he just..." Suguru gaped, utterly in disbelief at what his own best friend said of him. "Did he just say that?"

Shoko let out a satisfied guffaw. "Oh, he definitely did."

"I can't believe he's tarnishing my name over a girl."

"Well, you know very well he could do way worse than that just to get what he wants," she threw him a thin smile, while exhaling a puff of smoke. "And hey, you lose. You gotta pay me."

Suguru turned to her in surprise. "Huh? Oh—oh, darn it. Shoko, can't you be less stingy?"

"Well, whose bright idea was it to pull that stunt on him and bet on whether Gojo would approach her in less than a day?"

-> continue to extended cut !

[nyxire]

hopeing totk doesn't pull something out of their ass to make zelda an actual person again bc honestly while i am all for the happy ending, i think i would enjoy a bittersweet ending like that a bit more.

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

[actual-changeling]

welcome back to alex's unhinged meta corner, today's topic: the chest touch at the pub. that scene has me in a chokehold for some reason and i still cannot stop thinking about it.

the first thing i wanna talk about is crowley's reaction, since this is the shorter part. he did not expect aziraphale to reach out to him like this and freezes for a second while aziraphale happily chatters away.

they were both walking and the hand on his chest stops him, so he comes to a stop right next to him while he was slightly behind him before that. his gaze also snaps to aziraphale's face, who is very much not looking at him.

they were having a conversation, but the touch essentially shuts crowley up and zira leaves him to get their drinks.

now, my question is why aziraphale does it. sure, it could just be an absent gesture since they're in a crowded place, just that he has never really done so before. i think it was very much planned, like asking crowley to dance and grabbing his hand later on.

a second before he actually reaches out, he also looks back to check whether crowley is where he thinks he is. that is the only time he does that, he was busy looking for a free table and miracles them one when he cannot find one - the look back is deliberate. especially since crowley is practically glued to his side, he has no need for confirmation, he can feel him brushing against him while walking.

the hand motion he does gets me, too. he is busy fidgeting with his hands like normal and has them clasped in front of him. aziraphale lifts them once he gets to "that is precisely the point", yet also already moves it slightly towards crowley, realizes he miscalculated where exactly he/his chest is, looks to check, then looks away again before actually touching him. am i reading too much into it? maybe.

i think it is his version of a little temptation. not only does it make crowley's brain short-circuit for a second, he also gets them their drinks and is now (or so aziraphale hopes) a bit calmer and will take the news aziraphale is about to give him better. the conversation at the cafe did not go entirely as planned, after all.

additionally, something i am not sure if other people have noticed or not is that aziraphale does not just touch crowley, it is a caress. he moves his hand down his chest.

the movement in order:

bar girl unfortunately moves in front of them, but you can clearly see the way his hand takes. to give you a direct comparison of the starting and end point:

a good point of reference is crowley's bolo tie but also the angle of aziraphale's arm while it is still visible.

the best part, in my opinion, is that aziraphale puts his hand right on top of crowley's heart. i think the symbolic importance of that is pretty clear and does not require any more explanation, although it makes me want to throw myself into a river. but that's by the by.

to summarize, aziraphale caresses crowley's heart chest to get him to calm down and not go insane over the news he is about to give him. he is also simply a bastard and knows exactly what he is doing to crowley.

as always, this is me going nuts with analysis, but i'm also curious to hear other people's thoughts on this.

don't tell my therapist about my unhinged meta posts or she will probably be very concerned for my mental wellbeing

[paradiseprincesss]

the boy is mine | jonathan crane

masterlist

yeah so i wrote this in literally record timing because the music video to the boy is mine is so jonathan crane and his girl coded. i'd like to think i'm keeping u guys fed with all my fics i hope u like !!!

summary: you’re set on doing anything to make that boy yours, and the plan you curated is absolutely purrrfect.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), bondage/tying up, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, stalking, obsessive behaviour, therapist/patient relationship at one point lol

“perfect.” you whisper to yourself as you poured the last drop of the glittery, pink liquid into the small vile, swirling it around as you popped a cork into the top.

you smiled proudly as you sat on the kitchen floor of your apartment, holding up the vile to get a good look at it under the moonlight. it was fool proof — he’d for sure be yours after you forced him to drink this.

some would say you were a little unhinged, but you preferred the term creative. you were a little obsessed with your old therapist, doctor jonathan crane. you started seeing him when you stumbled across his pictures online, and you knew you had to have him. you booked your first session with him roughly nine months ago, and he was there for you every step of the way.

you didn’t actually need therapy (well…), but you still booked sessions with him because he was yours. it was meant to be. you couldn't unsee it. during your first ever session with him, you made sure to put on your cutest, most feminine and dainty mini dress, paired with some matching high heels. you even did your hair and makeup with precision. jonathan didn’t show it on his face, but when you sat there in that leather chair across from him for the first time, his heart started to beat a million miles a minute.

you were jaw-dropping. he couldn’t believe someone could actually possess such beauty, and though he tried to stay professional, it was proving to be quite difficult. every time you spoke, every time you smiled at him, every time you did absolutely anything — he would become more and more infatuated with you.

“i just wish he didn’t leave me, you know?” you say softly, feigning innocence, “it’s been so hard without a man to take care of me.”

jonathan clenched his jaw silently, he couldn’t believe that a man would be stupid enough to break-up with someone like you. be professional, he reminded himself.

“understandably so,” he said clinically, “i can only imagine how difficult it would be to have a relationship like that end so abruptly.”

“it was so difficult,” you say, your eyes watering, “but, i think i’m slowly starting to move on.”

of course, such "ex-boyfriend" did not exist. this was all part of your elaborate act to make him think you were an innocent, naive girl who was heartbroken and needed someone to save her. that someone being him, of course.

he was made for somebody like you.

you only had seven sessions between the two of you before jonathan abruptly reassigned you to his colleague, doctor webber. she wasn’t anything like doctor crane — she didn’t understand you the way that he did.

good things come to those who wait, but patience wasn’t your thing.

“i’m sorry,” jonathan doctor crane said to you, “as much as i want to continue to be there for you and your journey of growth, i believe that my colleague would be better suited to your…needs.”

“what are you talking about, doctor crane?” you asked, trying to to hide the desperation in your voice.

“i have another patient i must attend to,” he says flatly, informing you that your session had come to an end, “but i wish you all the best.”

and with that, he sent you to see doctor webber. of course, you were heartbroken. how could your soulmate do that to you? but jonathan wasn’t doing it because he didn’t want to see you — it was quite the opposite, actually. he knew that feeling this way about his patient was so very wrong, and if he continued to see you, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

really, he did this for you.

as you placed your little love concoction on the kitchen counter, you turned on your tv. jonathan was supposed to be doing a segment with the mayor of gotham tonight about the crime rates in the city, and what him and his team at arkham asylum were doing to solve the issue. as his face appeared on tv, you sighed to yourself. he was so handsome in his suit and tie — and those sexy little glasses?

meow.

the chilly gust of wind made you shiver for a moment, but your latex bodysuit kept you warm enough — well, not really. with your little cat ear headband, you toss your hair over your shoulders as you quietly make your way into the silent home. your black pumps were surprisingly silent against the wood floors, and you crept into the living room where a woman sat on the couch watching tv.

you went undetected as she completely missed your presence. stealthily, you creep behind her until suddenly, you yanked her by her hair. she screamed loudly, and your hand immediately went up to her mouth to clasp down on it; you were getting really good at this.

“don’t scream,” you whisper, “i just came here to tell you to stay away from my man.”

slowly, you remove your hand and she looks back at you with sheer terror, “wh-who’s your man?” she asked with fear laced in her voice.

you hated this bitch — she was one of jonathans patients. there was nothing going on between them, you knew that (plus you would’ve murdered her if there was!), but you had spent the last few weeks…"cleaning up the streets."

these ratty bitches had to go; any woman who was his patient or in his life at all had to go. you even dressed the part with your sexy little cat costume and all. you know what they say — in the eternal game of cat and mouse, there are no winners, only survivors.

“doctor jonathan crane,” you said dreamily, but your tone turned sinister within seconds, “and if you ever go see him again, i will find you, trust me. i've already found you once, and you don't want me to come prowling back around.”

the woman nodded frantically, and you went on your merry way. this was the last one, you were certain. you’d even made a list of all the women to threaten so that you could make sure they would stay away from your man. finally, you made your way home and started to wind down from all the break-ins you’d been making recently. it was hard work chasing down all these…mice.

jonathan noticed that his belongings were going missing here and there over the last few months, and he knew something strange was going on. he wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but something was off.

first, little things such as his favourite pen (yes, he has a favourite pen) went missing. then, a few patient files would seemingly disappear along with some sticky notes he had stuck on his desk the day prior. he didn’t think too much of it until one of his credit cards went missing from his wallet — but there weren't any fraudulent charges made.

he even continued to monitor his bank account and freeze his card, but no charges were ever made on it regardless. the last straw was when his spare house key went missing. even for a man as smart as jonathan, he could not figure out who was doing this for the life of him.

you were still attending your regular sessions with doctor webber, but you deliberately booked your appointments on days you knew jonathan was working. you knew you’d run into him either on your way in or way out, and you also knew he wasn’t that booked up anymore since most of his clientele went…missing.

as you said your farewell to doctor webber, you noticed jonathan walking out of his office. he noticed you immediately, giving you a soft smile as you turned to close the door to doctor webbers office. he said your name softly, causing you to almost choke on your own words as you clutched his house keys behind your back.

“doctor crane,” you say softly, “hey.”

“just jonathan is fine,” he said, but he internally scolded himself for saying that, “how have you been?”

“great,” you say sweetly, “doctor webber is…great.”

“that’s wonderful to hear,” he says, “it was nice seeing you again. take care.”

you two parted ways, and once jonathan was back at his apartment — he was to refrain himself from calling you. god, you looked so good today. with those little dresses of yours and good grief, those sexy, little heels you always paired them with. he grabbed himself a glass of whiskey, neat, and took a swig as he thought about you.

why did you have to be on his mind so much, and dear god, why did you have to be so fucking beautiful?

with a frustrated sigh, he looked at his front door, thinking about his keys that suddenly went missing just a week prior. was he overthinking things? was he just imagining it? did he lose his own keys and forget?

he was a psychiatrist for gods sake, why was he driving himself crazy over this? with so many questions and no answers, he made his way to his bathroom as he flicked his kitchen lights off.

the cold water ran from the bathroom sink as he splashed it on his face after removing his glasses, and he looked at himself in the mirror to get a grip. his pale, icy, blue eyes bore into his own reflection, and-

what was that?

he turned around swiftly, turning the tap off, watching as something, no — someone’s perfectly manicured hand ghosted over the edge of his bathroom doorframe.

he couldn’t see anything — the kitchen light was turned off, and the only thing turned on was his dim bathroom light. the master of fear himself felt a little fearful in this moment as he watched the dainty, feminine hand retract and move back into the shadows and he could've sworn he saw...cat ears?

jonathan had to blink a few times to make sure that he hadn’t spilled a vile of his own fear toxin somewhere and that he wasn’t just hallucinating off of it.

hesitantly, he pushed open his bathroom door only to be met with the darkness of his kitchen. his breath hitched as he flicked on the kitchen lights, but he was met with an empty, quiet space. his eyes quickly darted to the front door, but it was locked shut.

but if the door was locked shut, what did he just see? who did he just see? was the scarecrow himself starting to succumb to silly, little, irrational fears? before his mind could start to wander anymore, he heard a familiar sound.

a certain, distinct, and awfully familiar sound of high heels clicking against the wood flooring — and it was coming right from his bedroom. jonathan went over to his bedroom, swinging the door open unsure of what he might see, only to be met with a sight that made him feel weak in the knees.

you were propped up on his bed, in a latex body suit and high heels, along with cat ears to complete your rather sexy costume. you batted your eyelashes at him innocently, and bit your lip as you showed him the rope in your hands.

“how did you…” he whispered, watching you bite your lip as he trailed off.

“doctor,” you purred, “let’s get intertwined.”

“what the fuck…” he whispered once more, watching you as if in a mesmerized trance.

jonathan couldn’t lie — as much as he should have been terrified and calling the cops, he was awfully turned on right now. jesus christ, that latex cat costume that left absolutely nothing to the imagination? yeah, he was hard the moment he saw you.

“i know it’s simply meant to be.” you say softly, and as if his mind could not control his body, he was making his way over to you on his bed.

“um, what-“

“shh,” you hush him, suddenly grabbing him as you swiftly tie a knot around his wrists, “you don’t need to speak, baby boy.”

in mere seconds you had the scarecrow tied up on his own bed, restrained as you looked down at him. jonathan sat there looking up at you — yes, you were hot but you were clearly also insane.

to be fair, so was he.

he didn't bother trying to get himself out of the ropes. he knew that if he tried to struggle you'd most definitely do something not so pleasant to him. also, if he was being honest — this was hot. like, really hot.

"i just need you to do me a favour, baby boy," you giggle, your high heels clicking against the wood flooring once more, "drink this for me, and know that if you refuse, you won't live to see another day."

you held up a vile of pink, shimmery liquid. jonathan looked at you with a raised brow, and hesitantly nodded.

"...i'll drink it if you answer some questions that i have." he says, trying to bargain with you.

"fine," you shrug, "but make it quick."

"alright, first of all, how did you get in here?" he asked.

"easy, i crawled in through your window. next." you say in an awfully innocent voice.

"are you the one that's been taking my stuff?" he asks, and you nod.

"of course, i needed your stuff for my collection." you say whimsically, biting your lip at the thought of your homemade jonathan crane shrine.

in your apartment, you had a wall dedicated to him. it had cut outs of him, printed pictures, his belongings, his address, photos of him when he was younger — the list just goes on. all just regular, boring, stalker stuff, really.

"no more questions," you huff, "drink up, baby boy."

"what is it?" he asked, to which you rolled your eyes.

"an at-home love potion. i'm going to untie you for this — and if you even attempt to run, i will slice your heart in two." you say with an adorable smile.

jonathan doesn't offer a response, but rather opts out for a simple nod. you slowly untie his wrists, handing him the pink, glittery liquid in the vile. you watch him in awe as he closes his eyes and takes it like a shot, smiling to yourself as you realize that he's finally going to be all yours.

this little concoction that you had whipped up was the real deal — you'd even tested it on other men to see if it did what it was intended to do. it worked on them, bringing these men to their knees for you, but it's not like you really had any trouble doing that without a love potion, anyway.

after jonathan drinks it all, he looks back at you blankly. unbeknownst to you, when you were popping the cork off of the potion, he sneakily grabbed a vile of his fear toxin that was stashed by the foot of his bed — just in case you tried to actually murder him.

his plan was to immediately throw the vile at you and watch you succumb to your fears, but if he was being honest, he wanted to see what this shitty little "love potion" could do. he was a man of science, after all.

"i don't feel anything," he said after a moment, "looks like your potion didn't work after all-"

you cut him off with a small giggle, "you don't feel any different?"

"no."

"i've tested it, i know it works," you giggled, "that means if you don't feel any different from before, then you must already love me-"

suddenly, he lunged at you, making you scramble as you tried to fight back. however, he was much stronger than you, making it physically impossible to overpower him. after struggling for a good minute, he had you tied down on the bed like you had him just moments before.

"you're sick in the head," he says, but you could've sworn you saw him smirking, "you're real fucking twisted, you know that? i could call the cops and have you arrested right now."

"do it," you teased, "i dare you to, baby boy."

jonathan suddenly grabbed you by the neck, "what was that?"

you had you refrain from smiling as he choked you softly, feeling yourself get wet from just a second of his touch. you knew exactly what he wanted now.

"sorry," you corrected, "i dare you, sir."

"there we go." he says as he lets go of your throat.

he rummages through his bedside drawer and pulls out some of his own rope, causing your mind to spin at the idea of what he was going to do to you. you didn't run when he untied your wrists initially, but he took a few moments to tie both your wrists up to his bedposts, essentially tying you up so you couldn't move your hands at all.

"oh," you say with a teasing voice, "i see where this is going."

he smirks at you, admiring how sexy you look all tied up in his bed, with your costume and all. he takes his phone out and shamelessly takes a picture with the flash on, and you could feel that you were leaking your arousal down his bedsheets by now.

it seemed that your love potion didn't work on him because, well, he was already obsessed with you.

of course he was — but jonathan was known for his good work ethic. he only gave you up as a patient because it was only a matter of time before he would give in and most likely fuck you on the couch in his office. he just didn't know it was mutual at the time. if he did, well — that's a story for another day.

"maybe i should punish you," he smirks, making his way over to you on the bed, "you've been so disobedient."

"m'sorry, sir," you whimper, "you just make me crazy."

"i know," he cooed condescendingly, "but i think i can fix that, darling."

"you can?"

"i most definitely can," he says lowly, "it might take a few sessions to cure you, but i have a method i think might work on you. i'm gonna fuck you 'till you can't think anymore, no more thoughts after that. sound good?"

you nodded frantically, "mhm, yes. please, fuck yes."

he smirked at you, his hands reaching towards the top of your bodysuit. slowly, he reached his hands behind and unzipped it, slipping it off of you slowly.

"i like the cat costume," he chuckles lowly, "the ears are a cute touch."

you blushed, biting your lip as he slipped you right out of your latex bodysuit. obviously, you wore nothing underneath — not even panties. jonathan groaned at the sight because seriously, no panties? with your wrists tied up and unable to touch him, you were getting pent up real fast.

"i wanna touch you," you whined, "please."

he smirked, "if only you didn't break into my apartment like a stray."

before you could even formulate a proper response, he was crawling between your legs, spreading them out as he got onto his stomach. without warning, he licked a fat stripe up your already soaking cunt, latching his mouth onto your pussy. your back arched at the feeling, and he continued to lap you up.

"f-fuck, jon," you breathed, "feels s-so good."

"i know." he said cooly against your core, lapping up your arousal continuously as you moaned over and over again.

it was sinful how skilled he was with his tongue — it hadn't even been a full five minutes and you were already on the brink of creaming all over his face. he didn't give you any mercy as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, and your wrists were burning against the rope as you tugged on them.

god, the things you would do to run your hands through his soft, dark, and now tousled hair.

"nnnghh," you whimper, "i'm, ah- gon' cum!"

the coil in your stomach snapped as your release hit you like a freight train, making you scream his name as he made you cum. you were left a panting mess, and he finally released the grip he had on your thighs. after wiping his pink, plump lips along with his chin which glistened with your wetness, he smiled softly at you.

"taste s'good," he commented, "you look so pretty like this, darling. tied up and helpless."

"n-need you," you whisper, "baby, please."

this time, he didn't correct you and demand you call him "sir." maybe it was the heat of the moment or maybe it was the realization that he had finally met a woman who was as unhinged as he was. deep down, he was really loving the idea.

he started to undo his belt, making sure to keep his eyes locked on yours, teasing you as he undid his belt at a painfully slow pace. finally, after what felt like an eternity (it maybe thirty seconds at most), his cock sprung out of his pants, hitting his stomach lightly. it was long, veiny, and thick. how was that supposed to fit inside of you? surely it would split you open.

"cat got your tongue?" he teased as he unbuttoned his white button-down, stroking his cock a few times as your hips bucked into nothing.

"uh-huh." you whispered in awe, biting your lip at the thought of how his size was going to stretch you beyond your limits.

with a low chuckle, he lined his thick cock up with your begging hole, pushing in slowly as you felt him stretch your cunt out fully. he was so big and so long, the feeling of him just halfway inside of you was enough to have you pulling against the ropes again. the way the rope was digging into your wrists was degrading but undeniably hot. it was like a silent reminder of how little control you actually had over this whole situation.

"s-so full!" you squeaked, but he kept pushing himself into your tight, warm hole.

"s'okay, you can take it. and if you can't, i'll make you take it." he groaned, finally bottoming out in you.

you were stuffed to the brim with his cock and slowly, he started to thrust his length in and out of you. desperately, you let out a feverish moan. your breaths were short but heavy, and you were a fucked out, cockdrunk mess for him as he picked up his pace.

"you're so fucking tight, my god," he moaned, "i should've fucked you sooner."

"make me cum," you plead desperately, "f-fuck, yes, feels so good, jonathan!"

"yeah? you wanna cum?" he cooed as he continued to fuck your sopping pussy, "you wanna cum on this cock?"

"fuck, yes." you pleaded.

his cock was pressed snugly up against your cervix, so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. he continued to stretch your little hole out, ruthlessly pounding his thick cock into you more and more as you started to see stars. your walls started to flutter around him, letting him know that you were close without having to say a word.

"close already, darling?" he asked, "are you gonna cum for me again, hm?"

"y-yes!" you moaned, "ohmygod- i'm gonna-"

your words started to melt together at one point as you got lost in the pleasure of your high. soon enough, your soaking cunt was tightening up around his fat cock, and a clear liquid poured out from you.

of course — you were so turned on by the way he was screwing you that you'd squirted all over his bedsheets.

"oh, darling," he moaned, "that was so fucking sexy, jesus."

"j-jonathan, baby," you begged, "i-i can't-"

"you can, i promise," he groaned, "i'm close."

"p-please." you started to beg incoherently, the overstimulation making your head spin as your cunt fluttered around his cock again.

he continued to ram your tight pussy until his thrusts started to become sloppier and sloppier, and you could tell that he was close to the edge.

"cum i-inside," you begged him, "i need to be filled, fuck-"

"okay, okay," he panted as his he gave you a few more deep, harsh thrusts, 'm'gonna fill you up, darling."

you nodded, your head spinning as he finally came inside with a low groan, painting your walls white as he stuffed you with his warm seed. he stilled, staying inside of your warm hole for just a little longer to ensure you got every last bit of his cum, before pulling out his semi-hard cock.

he bit his lip as he watched his cum drip out of you (the sight of him biting his lip almost made you cum again), and he reached over to untie your wrists as you slumped down against the pillows. he laughed softly, pulling you into him as you instinctively cuddled into his arms.

he pulled the cat ear headband off your head, which you forgot you still had on, and tossed them to the side.

"i guess i'm going to have a hard time getting rid of you, huh? stalker." he joked, sighing as he took in all the details of your pretty face.

"you won't be able to get rid of me," you say softly, "i'm obsessed with you."

"good, i don't want you around anyone but me." he says, playing with your hair gently.

"i know," you giggle, "but stupid love potion was useless. i should've known you were already in love with me."

the both of you laughed softly, snuggled up in his bed as he told you all about what he did on the side for work — and all about his plans to fear gas gotham city.

jonathan trusted you with this because he knew there wasn't a line in existence that you wouldn't cross for him.

@ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a @xanaxiii

@seaamonster @nocturnest @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @oceanstem

@futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt @ll4n4

@ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @aprilsfrog05 @wiseyouthinfluencer

@minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[5sospenguinqueen]

Lullabies | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Six months ago, Max walked out of your life after a conversation about your future. When you find out he' ended up in a's dating Kelly - who has a child - you work through your emotions in the best way you know how; revenge music.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Miscommunication. End of a relationship. Max doesn’t look great in this.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in 2021 but timelines have been completely altered. Olivia Rodrigo songs.

Main Masterlist

next.

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Feb

YourUserName just posted

liked by georgerussell63, bestfriend and others

YourUserName 'and i fantasise about a time you're a little fucking sorry'

12,326 comments

User 1 mother is in the studio, ya’ll. i'm smelling a new album

User 2 did their breakup destroy my soul? yes. do i believe the revenge album will heal my soul? absolutely

User 3 the working titles are so unhinged and I’m here for it

→ User 4 hit you with a car is so real

→ User 5 love that she called him evil whilst also saying that she wants him to drive off a cliff. we respect it

francisca.cgomes i’m SO ready for this. sure you can’t give me a little preview?

→ YourUserName stop trying to get me fired

User 6 sis disappears from social media for 6 months only to come back serving cunt

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

2 months before

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May

redbullracing just posted

liked by YourUserName, maxverstappen1 and others

redbullracing ANOTHER VICTORY FOR MAX VERSTAPPEN 🏆 #AustrianGP tagged: maxverstappen1, kellypiquet

7,445 comments

User 7 omg omg omg y/n liked. this is not a drill

User 8 was that last photo really necessary? she’s just a wag, she’s not actually part of red bull

User 9 not y/n liking 🥺 he broke her heart but she’s still supportive of his career

User 10 that should’ve been Y/N

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

June

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and others

YourUserName 'you’re just a stranger i know everything about'

10,102 comments

User 11 not max liking despite not even following

victoriaverstappen so talented

liked by maxverstappen1

→ YourUserName thank you, vic x

→ User 12 not the former SILs interacting on main

alex_albon what's that sound? oh, it's just my tears

→ YourUserName doofus

→ lilymhe can confirm

User 12 and now my heart is breaking all over again. i miss the two of them so bad

kellypiquet just posted

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and others

kellypiquet summer break with my favourites 🤍 tagged: maxverstappen1

4,387 comments

User 13 so pretty

User 14 goals

User 15 anyone notice max hasn’t been commenting since y/n became active again on socials

→ User 16 delusional

→ User 17 clearly they're fine if she's posting vacay pics with him

→ User 18 except these are clearly old pics because max had stubble at the gp like two days ago so...

→ User 15 @ user16 plus he always used to comment and this time he's not even liked the post

→ User 19 not to add fuel to the fire but they were also spotted arguing after his podium

YourUserName posted a new story

Hi, guys. This part of the Baby Fever Angst series, which will include smaus for other drivers.

Daniel’s Version | Lando’s Version | Lance’s Version

Charles’ Version | Oscar’s Version

I have part 2 planned if people want it but also happy to leave it like this if people don't want them to have redemption haha

Tag List (I tried to include all those who asked. Sorry if you only wanted to be tagged in Part 2 to Daniel and not the other drivers, it got a bit confusing haha)

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery

[remlionheart]

NSFW Alphabet: Osamu Dazai Edition ♡

♡༊·˚ mdni. ((dedicating this to my pretty gf @bratbby333 since she's the dazai to my chuuya and some of these situations were in inspired by our unhinged 5 hour long facetimes calls, *cough cough* "blood-chilling" *cough cough* ♡)) this was honestly so much fun to write. dazai would be SUCH a diva in a relationship but he would also be so loving and protective ugh. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dazai's almost always the first one out of bed after the fact. He already has a shower running for when he comes back into the room to hand you a towel and a glass of water. You tell him that your legs are too tired to walk all the way to the bathroom so he scoops you up into his arms. The two of you laugh as he carries you into the steam-filled room. He lets you get under the water first, squirting a generous amount of shampoo into his palm as he instructs you to turn around. "Suppose your hands are too tired to wash your hair, hm?" You bite back a smile, giving him a pitiful nod in response. "My poor girl." He hums. His long fingers massaging into your scalp feel like heaven. He leaves light kisses along your shoulder, running a washcloth over your body while whispering sweet little nothings like "How'd I get so lucky?" into your skin as he cleans you off. It's hard to believe this was the same man who was making you beg on your knees for him just twenty minutes ago.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Aside from his body's infuriating aversion to death, there aren't a whole lot of things that Dazai doesn't like about his appearance. Aesthetically speaking, he finds himself fairly attractive so it's hard to narrow down one thing he likes best. If he had to though, he'd probably go with his hands. He's always gotten compliments on them, but after seeing what strong reactions they're able to coax out of you so easily, he's realized they're one of his most valuable assets. As cliche as it may be, your eyes are his favorite feature. He finds it adorable how they always tell him what he needs to know without you ever having to say a word. They tell him when you want more, when you want less, when you're about to hit your breaking point. They guide him in the right direction every single time. Plus, they're just so fucking pretty to look at.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The only thing more blissful to Dazai than hearing or seeing your orgasm is tasting it. His head is buried between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you deliriously as your thighs start to lock around him. You're spasming for him again, your voice breaking as you call out his name and your hips buck up towards him. "Dazai, I can't -" You whine. "'m so... sensitive -" "C'mon baby, please." he groans, "Just one more f’me." his tongue swirls against you with fervor, his digits still greedily plummeting into you. "Lemme taste it, lemme feel it. You’re sooo close." His fingers curl at just the right angle, his tongue faithfully lapping against you as you finally fall apart for him. He moans at the sweetness that spills down his chin. "You taste like fucking ecstasy, you know that?"

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It's not necessarily a secret because in his defense, if you were to bring it up or ask him about it, he'd tell you the truth. But Dazai can't help it that you've never inquired about his exes and he's certainly not going to offer up the fact that he knows every single person you've ever been with going all the way back to the boy you kissed on the playground when you were 4 years old. Or that he just so happens to know all of their current addresses and their moms’ maiden names and where they work and their social security numbers. I mean, does it even really matter anyway?? He just got a little curious, that’s all!!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dazai had been with his fair share of partners before meeting you. Sex wasn't something he was ever shy about. He did a lot of experimenting, especially when he was spending the majority of his time drinking. He's always felt comfortable in his body and never saw the big deal about sharing it with someone. It wasn't until the two of you started dating that he realized just how binding sex could be. That it could transcend well beyond the simplicity of skin against skin contact. Being inside of you was the closest thing he'd ever felt to a religious experience. It felt like coming home after a long day. No matter how many hookups he'd had in the past, there was nothing that could've prepared him for how good you'd feel.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes any position that allows him to see your face. His favorite is probably fucking you from the side though, both of you facing each other with his arm hooked under your thigh, letting him go as deep as he pleases. He gets lost in the way your pupils dilate when he plunges into you. The security of your arms wrapped around his neck as you whimper and wriggle against him. There's something so intimate about watching you come undone from this view. Feeling you drench him while he kisses you over and over. "Let it out, baby. I've got you. Doin' so good - fuck, baby you're doin' so good f'me."

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As passionate as Dazai is when it comes to being inside of you, he's still able to find a level of a humor in just about anything. He's a Gemini, after all. If he's too serious for too long, he'll simply die. You're on top of him with your hands tangled into his for balance as you grind against him. Your hips are rocking back and forth at a pace that's making his breathing uneven. You feel proud, thinking his reaction is a sign of you doing a good job until you watch his head roll to the side, a stupid smile suddenly visible as he tries to bury his face into the pillow. You quickly realize it's not a moan that he's holding back, but a laugh. Your movements come to an abrupt pause. "Dazai." He tries his best to keep it together, but the scolding tone in your voice coupled with the stern look you're shooting him is only making it worse. “Wait, listen -" he tries to explain himself, but he's powerless to his own thoughts. A burst of suppressed laughter fills the room as he covers his face with his hands, still feeling the weight of your glare on him. "R - remember -" he struggles “Last week? When you were telling me about that book you were reading and...." he nearly snorts. "And you described it as -" Your lips press into a flat line, your eyes glazing over as you realize what he’s getting at. You knew the second you messed up that phrase, you'd never hear the end of it. "Are you seriously still laughing about the fact that I said 'blood-chilling' instead of 'bone-chilling?'" "BLOOD-CHILLING!" He repeats with the most obnoxious cackle, narrowly dodging the pillow you throw at him.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dazai spends more time grooming himself than you do. Hours in front of the mirror looking at himself from every angle to make sure what he's done is up to his standards. He's subscribed to one of those manscaping services where they mail him out a surprise bundle each month of new products to try. When you go down on him one night, he asks "...Does it smell like teakwood?" Your head pops up immediately, unsure if you even want to know what he's hinting at. "What?" "Nothing... it's nothing."

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In love, Dazai worships you. He has every inch of your frame memorized and knows exactly what each tiny movement and whimper mean. He's studied your body like it's his lifelong passion and he's learned how to make it respond so well for him. Your hips just barely buck up while he's on top of you and he smirks, his hair lightly brushing against your forehead. "You sure can handle the whole thing? Figured you'd still be sore after last night." You shake your head back at him with the poutiest expression, your core aching for more. "I can take it." you insist, "I can -" He challenges your sureness, giving you another inch only to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hand gripping onto the sheet above you. He'd never deny you of anything you wanted, but especially not when you looked this gorgeous. He grabs your hand, tangling his fingers into yours before drawing back and burying himself into you. "That's my girl." he groans, reeling in the way your walls so eagerly swallow him. Your breathing is erratic, your composure completely gone as you writhe and clench around him. He knows you're right there. You start to close your eyes, but he stops you, bringing his free hand under your chin to redirect your attention back to him. "Let me see it, angel. Show me." He slams into you again, giving you every inch of him this time. "Show much you love this." And you do. You show him three times in 20 minutes how much you love it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dazai's the first to admit that he has a high libido and if the mood strikes, he's going to do something about it. He gets bored easily, so he has a variety of different mediums to get the job done - the 'hidden' folder on his phone that's filled with pictures and videos of you, romance mangas, fleshlights, audio porn, hentai. He's not afraid to experiment even when he's alone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dazai is a true switch and will really fall into either being dominant or submissive depending on the situation. There are nights he gets off work and starts throwing out demands like, "On the bed. Now. Legs apart f’me." as he strips out of his jacket and pushes you down further onto the mattress. But, the are other times where he's dying not to be in control anymore. Where he's had to make too many decisions and he revels in the way you take the reins. The way you climb on top of him and whisper "good boy" as he grows hard beneath you. The only thing he loves more than making you beg is begging for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dazai has a bit of a thing for voyeurism and recklessness so when Kunikida hires a driver to pick the two of you up to take you to a dinner for the ADA, Dazai has no hesitation on hiking up your dress in the back of the limo. Peeking up every so often to see if the driver has even noticed the way your tits are pressed up against the window for passing cars to see as your vehicle speeds down the highway. You arch your back perfectly for him, giving him full control as he plunges into you. Your walls are so snug and gushy, he knows he won't last long. But you're enjoying this just as much as he is, playing with your clit as he grabs your hair and pulls you up to kiss him. "You like knowing that people can see me fucking you?" he whispers, biting down on your bottom lip. "Your cunt’s drippin’ alllll over me.” "Fuck - yes.” You moan, feeling your legs beginning to shake as you let out a strained. “I’d let you fuck me anywhere.” His smirk deepens, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dazai's pretty easy to wind up in general, but he definitely has a thing for asphyxiation. Perhaps it stems from the lingering effects of suicidal ideation, but the feeling of something cutting off his airways makes him feral. When you're on top of him and you reach for his throat, he nearly fucking melts. If he could choose any way to die, he'd request for it to be at the mercy of your loving fingertips digging into the side of his neck.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

There aren't many things that Dazai wouldn't do. Not just sexually, but in general. His curiosity almost always gets the better of him no matter the situation. The only time he's ever told you no was when you were being too hard on yourself. He walked in on you picking at your body in the mirror. Pulling your skin in different directions to see what you'd look like if your arms were thinner or what you'd look like if your nose leaned more to this way instead of that way. His heart sank. All of the post-work fantasies he had built up over the day disappeared the minute he saw how frustrated you were. "Hey," he whispered, coming up behind you and gently wrapping his arms around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. "Please stop being mean to my girlfriend. She doesn't deserve that." You tried to brush it off as a joke, leaning up to kiss him while he held you, but he pulled back. "I'm serious." he ran light fingers over your stomach, his eyes locked with yours in the reflection of the mirror. "We're not doing anything until I hear you say at least five things you like about yourself." He could see past almost any crime or murder, but he drew the line at you degrading yourself.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dazai's all about both, but if he's being completely honest with himself, he loves the feeling of your mouth around his cock. How cute you look when you struggle to take the whole thing. The way your eyes widen when he thrusts into your throat. How thorough you are, turning the act of going down on him into a work of fucking art. Even though you’re the one submitting to him when you get on your knees, he still feels like he's at your grace. You feel so good, he'd do anything to keep your lips wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Just like anything else, pacing could go one way or the other. The thing about Dazai, is he wants to do whatever you want to do. Even when he's in more of a dom role, your pleasure is still his main focus. There's no such thing as wrong time or wrong place as far as he’s concerned. If you wanted him to fuck you slow and sensually in the club bathroom, he would. He'd dim the lights, lock the door, lay his jacket down for you to sit on as he propped you up onto the sink and kissed you passionately. If you wanted fast, rough, filthy sex by candlelight on a bed of roses, he would. He'd wrap his hand around your pretty little throat, mocking the way you're struggling to breathe as he bullied himself into you while you’re surrounded by romantic ambiance. Whatever you want, he does too.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If there was a tornado approaching your house at a reasonable speed, Dazai would still find time to have a quickie with you. Especially if he thought it was the last thing he might ever do. He wants to feel you as much as he possibly can. The construct of time really means nothing to him. You have to log onto a work meeting in five minutes? "I can fit under the desk, baby :((( they won't even see me. Just spread your legs and keep a straight face, okay?" Your parents are on their way over? "They drive so slow anyway, angel and the door's locked. Promise we won't get caught." You're waiting for food to be delivered? "Bet I could make you cum twice before the doorbell even rings." Getting to spend five minutes in you is always better than spending five minutes out of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dazai isn't just willing to take a risk, he's usually the one pushing for it. Any time your phone rings, his hands are suddenly roaming along your body, his fingers dipping into the softness of your underwear as he starts to kiss your neck. He knows you're on the phone with your boss, that makes it even better. He wants to see how long you can keep your composure while he torments you. Your eyes are like daggers when you look back at him, but your cunt betrays you entirely, grinding against him needily while he smirks. He picks up the pace, reeling in the subtle way your thighs shake. You're trying so hard to sound so professional and coherent, but your thoughts are everywhere. You're having to hit the 'mute' button every few seconds just to let out a whimper. Dazai nips at the nape of your neck, slamming into you with an extra finger this time causing you to nearly drop your phone. "Ahh ~!" But there's no time to hit mute with how he's suddenly plunging into you. Your boss asks if you're okay and you have no choice but to hang up. "Dazai -" you try to keep your voice firm, but you can barely see straight the deeper he sinks into you. "What - the... fuck -" Each word is a moan, your hand grabbing desperately onto the collar of his shirt. "Dazai," "Somethin' wrong, baby?" "Dazai, you can't -" But he already is. He already is so bad. "Dazai, please." You're not even sure what you're pleading for anymore - if it's for him to stop or continue. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, your heart slamming into your chest as more uncontrollable whines fill the room. "Dazaaiii ~" you whimper again, soaking his hand as his thumb brushes across your clit. "Ohmygod, fuck. You can't keep doing that." "No promises." He smirks, carefully pulling out of you before bringing his fingers to his mouth. "It's not my fault you taste so good."

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It all depends on the mood, Dazai's pretty versatile. Could he fuck you for hours? Yes. Has he? Many times. It's no secret that he loves watching you struggle to walk the next day after having your legs pinned against his shoulder. But he knows he can't do that every time. He generally tries to follow your lead and give your body what it wants - whether that's 20 minutes of gentle, deep, intimacy or an hour of a mating press followed by overstimulation. As long as you're getting off, so is he.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His nightstand is filled with an assortment of silicone stimulants for the two of you. Cockrings and vibrators and bondage kits. Out of all of the subscription services he has, getting a bundle of mystery toys delivered to his house each month is by far his favorite. He always waits 'til you come over to open it. Pouring you both a glass of wine as you divvy them out and argue about decide on who gets to use what on who.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Osamu Dazai lives to tease you. As far as he's concerned, the only reason the sun rises each morning is so that he can find new and exciting ways to make you grovel for him. He'll tie your hands together above your head, slowly unzipping his pants in front of you. Forcing you to watch as he strokes himself above you, groaning out lewd little nothings like, "Oh fuck, 'feels soo good." while he smirks at your pouty little face and the way you begin to squirm underneath him impatiently. “See how hard I am? God, just imagine what it'd feel like inside you." His hand pumping uppp and doownnnn tortuously out of reach. "Tell me baby, would you want me to go hard and fast or reeaall slow and deep?" He fucking moans while you writhe helplessly against the mattress, your neglected cunt throbbing. "Dazai, please." "Poor thing." He mocks, still jerking himself to the sight of you looking up at him with pleading eyes. "You can do better than that though, can’t you angel? C'mon, make me believe you.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

There's no denying that Dazai's loud. You make him feel so fucking good and he wants you to know. He'll have a fistful of your hair, groaning out your name while your tongue swirls around his tip. "Fuuuck.” He whimpers. "Oh - my… god." Tiny hearts cloud his vision as he watches your throat fill with his length, the heavenly sounds of you gagging on him echoing across the room. Your eyes gloss over, spit pooling down your chin when you look back up at him, your tongue still pressed firmly against his base. "S'fucking gorgeous when you suck my cock." His praise only make you go faster, drawing out the prettiest whines from him. "Nnngh ~ don't stop, baby.” His grip tightens in your hair. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." His hips buck up with each syllable, his rhythm unrelenting as lecherous tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You keep going though, drowning in the noises he's making for you. "Right there, right there. 'm gonna - oh fuck. 'm -" You feel him twitch inside your mouth before a flood of warmth suddenly coats your throat. "Swallow f'me, angel." his voice is so heady and delirious, it comes out as more of a beg than a command, "Fuck... Yeah. Just like that, mmm, god, just like that." You take it all in, not letting one drop go to waste. "You're sucha good girl, you know that? Sucha good fucking girl."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dazai gives the illusion that he's not jealous. That it doesn't bother him in the slightest when you go out with your friends or when you stay at the gym longer than you said you would. He does trust you - completely, actually. He knows you'd never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with him. It’s the outside world he doesn't trust. When you're driving home from work, he's watching you through the location sharing on your phone. He stares at the screen intently until he hears you pull into the driveway. When you’re at the bar, he knows the importance of girls’ time and he’d never spoil that. He simply wants to make sure no one is bothering you. He shows up, stealthily lingering in the background, watching his pretty girl laugh with her friends and dance with a drink in her hand the way she should. He loves seeing you have fun, he doesn’t want to take that away from you. He just follows behind your Uber to make sure the driver gets you to where you're going safely. He's seen too many tragedies between working for the PM and ADA, he can't take the risk of letting anything happen to you. So, he doesn't. There's absolutely nothing off limits to you. The entire world is yours. You just... might see a man in a suspicious looking jacket that bears an eerie resemblance to your boyfriend trailing behind you from time to time while you're out. It's only because he loves you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Standing at a solid 5'11, Dazai's decently tall and slender - surprisingly muscular underneath all of those bandages. His waistline is so pretty and his hands? God, those long beautiful digits have brought you to your breaking point more than a few times. Besides excelling in dexterity, he's also packing. A perfect blend of length and girth that curves ever-so-slightly as if it was made for the sole purpose of hitting your g-spot.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dazai would bend you over in in front of the Pope if you'd let him. He's unapologetically ready to go at any time. He can't help that you're just so gorgeous and that his eyes are always glued to the way your hips sway when you walk in front of him. He yearns for you constantly, even when you're not around. If he could have a 10-hour loop of you moaning his name that's what he'd use as white noise to fall asleep to each night. He can't help that his dick twitches at the thought of you. It's not his fault you're so pretty :((((

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rest has never come easy for Dazai. He's tried every natural (and narcotic) sleep aide he could get his hands on. Put down multiple bottles of Pinot Grigio and still found himself up for days on end. Up until he met you, he didn't think it was possible for him to sleep for more than two hours at a time, but the first time you invited him over to your apartment changed everything. The two of you had been talking for hours - laughing and debating and sharing secrets over a bottle of cherry whiskey. He could've stayed up long past sunrise with you but when he noticed how tired your eyes were getting, he offered to take you to bed instead. Both of you stripped down into lazy pajamas. You, in an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Dazai, in his boxers. You looked so peaceful when your head hit the pillow, he was sure that you'd be out soon, but to his surprise, your body had other plans. Your lips were soft against his, your hands gently roamed along his body as you pulled him on top of you. You smiled at the way his hair tickled your forehead. The sun was just barely creeping through your curtains, grazing your face as he slid into you, highlighting the pleasure that had taken over your features. It was all so hazy and comfortable. Your room filled with heady mid-morning noises while his body thrusted generously into yours. There was something so intimate about it that it nearly brought you to tears. You felt full in every sense of the word. When you were both good and spent, the two of you laid in the middle of your bed with your head nestled into his chest. He played with your hair, watching you fall asleep in his arms. He'd never felt more human than he did in that moment. His eyes closed, his mind turning off for what felt like the first time in years as he drifted off with you.

ㅤ ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ

‎♡‧₊˚ here's chuuya's version if you're new here ‎♡‧₊˚

[back2bluesidex]

Darling, can I be your favorite? - JJK (18+)

Pairing: Jungkook X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, Infidelity au

Wordcount: 1.4k+

Summary: Your close friend bagged a hot boyfriend. And that said boyfriend is more interested in you than her.

Warnings: Infidelity, Jungkook cheats on his girlfriend with the reader, mild flirting, make out, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), morally wrong. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: been long since I have written an unhinged smut.

This is the third time you are meeting Jungkook. 

First time was when Nayeon introduced him as they started dating officially. 

You and Nayeon have known each other since you were in diapers. You can’t call her your best friend but she has been there for as long as you can remember. Even though you haven’t shared all of your miseries with her (she hasn’t either), you two have understood that the other one is having a tough time and have been there silently. 

So, it’s not wrong to say that you know her and how good of a human being she is. You guys are alike in more ways than you would like to admit. 

But when she introduced Jungkook as ‘the person she is seeing’, you were shocked to say the least. 

You don’t wanna be a bitch about it but Jungkook deserves better than her. He is everything a woman would want in a man. 

Jeon Jungkook is handsome, has a stable job as a graphics designer, has tattoos and piercings and is incredibly panty-dropping hot. He is respectful, sweet and doesn’t talk loudly. In other words, he is your ideal type of man. 

So, even when you were happy for your friend, you were a little bit jealous too. 

The second time was on Nayeon’s birthday.

She bragged about him all night to whoever decided to show up. You enjoyed the scene staying afar. 

The similarities between these two meets? Well, both of the times things were awkward. 

Especially because yours and Jungkook’s eyes met a lot more times than is socially acceptable. While you have hardly exchanged any words, you just knew things are going to be tense if you ever get to meet one-on-one. 

And that’s what is happening currently. 

“I- uh, hi.” you mutter awkwardly standing at the doorway of your friend’s home. 

“Hi, Y/N” your name rolls out of Jungkook’s tongue, sounding better than ever. The corner of his lips turn upwards into a charming smile and you suddenly feel jealous of Nayeon’s luck, yet again. 

“Is Nayeon home?” You try to take a look inside her apartment. In the meantime you feel Jungkook’s eyes boring into your skull and slowly dipping down, racking your figure.   

You want nothing more than to just hand the kimchi to your friend and run home. 

“No. She got called at work for some emergency. It’s just me.” Jungkook’s voice dips down a little and when you look at him, his eyes are full of mirth. 

“Oh. alright. I was actually visiting my mom and she packed some kimchi for Nayeon. Here.” you extend your hand for him to take the box. 

As he holds the small handle, his fingers overlap yours. You had to gulp once to resist the improper expression that was about to take over your face. 

“Thanks.” Jungkook whispers. 

“Not a big deal. I will take my leave now.” You turn your heels to leave the place only to be stopped by him. 

Jungkook’s hand wraps around your wrist a little too protectively, “why don’t you come in? Nayeon will be back in an hour or so.” 

His doe eyes turn bigger, as if he is pleading you to stay. 

Contemplating for a moment (and liking the way his hand feels on your skin), you voice, “should I?” 

“You know this place better than me.” Jungkook lets his remark sit in the tense air of the apartment. You chuckle at it while transferring the kimchi to Nayeon’s containers. 

“Yeah. I have been here for uncountable times already.” You add lightheartedly. Jungkook’s eyes stay focused on your figure as you work inside your friend’s kitchen so domestically.  

“But now that you have moved in, I will visit less. Don’t worry.” You speak again, finding him way too quiet. 

“What? No. I didn’t move in.” he chuckles, “We were just hanging out since it's the weekend but she got called.” 

“Oh. That’s bad.” 

“But I’m glad. Glad that you came.” again. Again that mischievous raspy voice that sends sparks through your body. 

You look up at Jungkook, finding him staring at you with a serious and somewhat dark expression. Not knowing what to do, you smile at him. 

“So.. are you seeing anyone currently?” He speaks with the same raspy voice. 

“Uh- no. not at this moment.” You reply, keeping the box of kimchi in the refrigerator. 

“That’s such a waste.” he says, taking tentative steps towards you. Eyes focusing on yours. 

“Waste? Of what?” you try to sound normal but your heart starts beating fast when Jungkook reaches close to you, gradually backing you up against the fridge. 

“Of this beautiful face. This- ” his eyes drop on your chest, “alluring body of yours.” 

“Jungkook-” 

“Honestly, I couldn’t take my eyes off you since the first day we met. I know it’s not morally right but I am a man after all. I DMed you on insta but you haven’t responded yet.” 

“Oh, I- I didn’t notice.” what the fuck! He dmmed you on insta??

“I was about to ghost your friend right after she introduced me to her friends but I stayed… because of you.” Jungkook’s mouth hovers right above your ear. His chest, now, touching yours. 

You lose your mind. All the sense of morals and rationals leave through the window of wants and needs. 

Your throat gets dry but you talk anyway, “why is that?” 

“Because I want you to be my favorite.” and then his lips are crashing into yours. You dive down into the feeling forgetting that you are making out with your friend’s boyfriend. 

“Fuck! How do you taste so good?” Jungkook moans into your cunt as he laps up every drop of arousal. 

“Jungko-” You groan in pleasure, finding it hard to keep your eyes open anymore. Your orgasm is only one step away. 

Jungkook presses the fat of his tongue on your clit as he forks two of his fingers inside your hole. Pressing down on one particular spot, he reaps out your orgasm from you. 

You let out a scream. 

“Shhh, baby. Do you want the neighbors to hear us even when the owner of the house is absent?” he teases you. 

But you are too gone to react to that.  

Jungkook sits on his knees on the bed, unbuckles his belt, pulls down his jeans and boxers at once and reveals his rock hard length. 

He pumps it twice using the lubrication of his spit before reaching for his discarded pants and fishing out a condom from it. 

When he is done with wrapping up his cock, he positions it on your already fucked out hole. 

“Can I enter?” he asks politely. 

Even though you know you will be overstimulated, you are greedy to have your friend’s hot boyfriend inside of you. So you nod a yes. 

And with that Jungkook enters you. 

He slides in smoothly at once. Giving you a little time to adjust, he starts moving. 

At first his pace is careful and mediocre but then it starts increasing bit by bit. One of Jungkook’s hands reaches for your throat, holding you there, not quite choking just yet. 

His other hand is busy playing with your clit to distract you from the inhumane pace he has adopted already. 

The bed starts creaking violently. Your moans know no bounds. Jungkook ain’t doing better as well. He keeps grunting and sprewling dirty shits in your ear. 

“I knew you would be a dirty slut the moment my eyes landed on you.” He says between the harsh thrusts. 

“Oh-fuc-junkoo-”

“Look at you, going dumb over your friend’s boyfriend’s dick, huh? Such a dirty cocksleeve!” his derogatory words bring out the best possible orgasm you have ever had. And you cum on his cock. 

“F-fuck! You cummed so much, you whore.” Jungkook groans cumming inside the condom himself. 

When you are done coming down from your high, shame comes crawling inside your mind. 

You just slept with your childhood friend’s boyfriend. You should just go and jump off a bridge or something. 

“This… This was completely wrong. We should have not. I - I am just fucking terrible.” You grab your hair out of shame lying naked in your friend’s bed. 

“Don’t worry. I was about to end things with her anyway.” He speaks casually, as if it’s no big deal to commit infidelity. 

Tossing the condom in the trash can (like he wants Nayeon to find out what he did) he says, “Shall we continue? Your place or mine?” 

You know you have fucked up a big time. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[crunchycoookies]

Art for my country Branch au 🥰 Details abt it under the cut ⬇️

Here's my silly little au! So basically Branch ran away from Pop village because everyone (minus Poppy) treated him terribly. While exploring he stumbles upon the outskirts of Lonesome Flats, where he trips and sprains his ankle. Delta finds him and is like "What tf you look weird but ig ur my son now." And from then on she takes care of him. Somewhere along the way Branch starts to call her Mom (or Mama/ Ma). Clampers is born at some point, making her Branch’s cousin. They love/hate each other and have that unhinged sibling dynamic. They just turn into a cute little family and I love em sm.

Delta also helps Branch regain his colors, although they are slightly muted tones of his true colors. Because the county trolls are so adept at dealing with grief, Branch is allowed to process his grandmothers death and his fear of singing with a good mentality. This leads to him slowly gaining his colors back (hence the blue streaks in his hair) and learning to be happy again. He does start to sing again but it's a mix of country and Pop. (Which comes into play during TWT, but more on that later).

Also I made Gary (the remote Imao) into a goat critter. He's stupid and I love him. Delta has an ongoing feud with Gary bc he constantly tears up the garden but she can't do anything brash because Branch absolutely loves him.

There is more but that's it for nowww! Feel free to ask questions and I’ll do my best to answer them! Give me ideas for this aus name pls I have nothing

[gladiatorcunt]

- # LEMON SUGAR !

flew like a moth to you (sunlight)

cw: weird pet play, reader has a vagina, large age gap (reader early 20’s & logan is…. not), HEAVY PISS KINK, dirty yucky icky gross vibes, xmen 2 coded logan, dad (father figure) bf talk and behaviors (old man, kiddo, dad, essentially lifestyle dom-ing you) anal plug mention, praise kink but one usage of ‘bitch’ and ‘toilet’, reference to a canon scene with jean but in this au she was just clowning on him as a friend, scogan crumbs, mentally ill & unhinged!reader, self objectification/dehumanization (?), reader: “i wish a/b/o was real :(”, pt.2 to . bc the dynamic might be confusing, implied unaware mutant!reader

do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai

1k event. / please consider commissioning me

Logan doesn’t slap his tip against your cheek more than a quick initial love tap (if a tight awkward handshake from a man decades older than you was a sexual act) but he loves to force your head against his crotch and really massage it into your skin. His other hand holds his dick like he’s aiming to piss, a slight scowl twisting his lips because he’s trying to concentrate. His cigar hangs out of his mouth and his bulky hips swivel as he grinds his precum into your face, cheeks, around your eyes, lips, check check check.

He doesn’t even necessarily want you to suck him off that bad and he’s not even trying to cum. orgasming is a slower pursuit for him these days anyway. He just wants to dirty his puppy up a little, enrichment and whatever the fuck. Maybe you can make a game of trying to catch the salty droplets on your tongue, see if you can spot them when they’re about to gush out and trickle down.

An activity can both be a perverted parlor trick and a form of indulgent self care that trivial things like ice rollers or under eye patches couldn’t replace.

“There we go, atta puppy.” Logan chuckles and ruffles your hair when you manage to lick away a bead of precum before it can drip down out of your reach.

“Daddy, don’t tease. ‘m trying to focus, that’s rude.” You give him a good shake, smiling wildly.

You’re already drunk and loopy just huffing the pure musk emanating from his uncut cock. You hum as the salty tang of his juices taint your tastebuds, luxuriating in the aftertaste like you were chowing down on a dainty macarron. He doesn’t really believe in eating or drinking anything special to make his crotch and the things it produces taste better. You couldn’t be more happy about that, the whiskey sour twang riding on the flavor notes were much more preferable than some biblical concoction of milk and honey. If only it was more acidic, that way it could burn a hole through your tongue and your cervix. Marking you so thoroughly from the deepest parts of your soul, you’d always be empty and every pang of pain would call for the man that caused it to soothe your burns with his saliva.

Intimacy with Logan feels like you’re reconnecting in whatever version of the garden of Eden can exist on Earth. Why can’t it be here? With you on your knees so close to barking into the skin of your old man’s cock, a fancy cushion settled under you with little golden tassels hanging off the corners. You are always so willing to be the best you can be for him, but he’ll never allow your service to come at the price of individual pain. Your eyes flutter and you take one of your many breaks to plunge your nostrils into his thick bush.

Wooden and spicy, your favorite perfume that is undeniably raunchy yet sensuous and romantic. Natural. You never thought you could be so in love with how a man’s pubes smell, but you can’t say that you thought that any part of this would have become your life’s purpose in more ways than not. Logan chuckles and pats your cheek, enamored with how clearly you seem to be enjoying suffocating yourself in his groin. He sharply inhales through his nose when you move up to trail your tongue along his happy trail, lapping at the thinner hairs because you adore each one just as much as every part of him.

“Bet you wish you could live off my dick, don’t ya, bunny?”

Of course you nod and moan as you let yourself be pulled back to where you’re supposed to be, the mothership calls you home and you answer happily with your phantom tail wagging all the way.

You pant, digging your nose bridge into the crease where his hip bleeds into his inner thigh, “Mmfh- hah… tastes good, Daddy. I could die here…”

You wanted to cut your voice break of ‘Daddy’ short, but you haven’t arrived at that particular station in your subconscious to shed your skin entirely. You’re having trouble forming a coherent line of thought and finishing your sentences now, but you feel sheepish about how easily he can box you into going nonverbal, so you clamor to stay afloat.

You forget that Logan knows your game by now, every step and caveat and every miniscule and complicated rule. It’s cute how you’re still ashamed of letting your dear old dad see you in all of your bunny-puppy-deer-kitty pet glory, when he clocked that shit the minute your shaky eyes fixated on his truck’s glove box rather than make a second of eye contact with him. You’re fucked up, there’s something fractured deeper in you that you keep under a diary shaped lock and key, but all these jagged edges have bows teetering on their precipices.

You’ve let him put them there, with a fond eyeroll and heaps of head pats. Thank your lucky stars that there’s something fucked up with his psyche too, buried under all his other baggage, because that first ride home with you didn’t end in tears and your nipples caught in his canines. You got to be a bunny settling down in their deserved cozy den instead of a rabbit relying on their prey instincts to throw the predator chasing them off their twitching fuzzy cotton tail.

You don’t get to hide and shrink in yourself. Not when the curled up needy angel hidden under the layers of you makes his jaw ache so ferociously that it’s borderline bestial.

Baby, you’ve gotta know that if he could, he’d pick you up with his teeth by your scruff so your feet would never have to touch the ground and grow ripe with callouses.

He takes a puff from his cigar and shakes the excess ash over your shoulder, out of your view because he also knows that you’d try to swallow the unhealthy specks down too. It’s a constant thing on his mind, the never ending job of pulling your leash enough to wean you off of engulfing whatever weird shit into your mouth you can see out of the corner of your eye. And if it comes from him or was in contact with him? Hell, the stuff might as well be damn catnip to you.

He thinks he feels the same way about you, that’s what he gets for being stupid enough to have an inch of his heart unguarded. You found a way and wormed your way through his arteries, and now he’d rather go sober cold turkey than let you squirm away. Which is what you try to do by pulling back and settling soft hands on his hairy and beefy thighs.

He’s got you hook, line, and sinker when he clasps a burly hand around the base of his thick cock in the poor imitation of a knot. He even squeezes in short pulses, bringing to mind what it would look like swelling up and pumping you full of potent cum. Breeding you with all the love of a man who wants more of you in the world because that might make him believe in it again. He wags his length in his hand to you, wordlessly offering you your favorite snack because you’ve been so very good for your old man.

“Come on, hun, want your treat? I know my puppy wants this big dick in their cute fuckin’ mouth.” He grumbles, stubbing his cigar out on his arms without even flinching or gritting his teeth and tossing it on the floor.

The burn’s already healed by the time you’ve gotten yourself and obediently let your tongue hang out of your mouth. He grunts, pleased, and dabs his sticky tip on the center of your tongue. It gives you the taste you crave while simultaneously depriving you of having your mouth filled like you desperately need to be able to get through the day.

You whine, Logan’s lips split on a wry smile but he doesn’t laugh this time. Nah, he’s too busy feeding his throbbing cock into your mouth, cutting off your whining and reducing a thunderous sound to a muffled crack of lightning.

“Theeeeeeeeere we go, kiddo, relax.” He says a few inches in, because your gag reflex is already tickling the back of your throat.

You breathe through your nose and distract yourself by playing with the hairs on his legs, drawing little hearts and stars as you take more of his length. Tears well up in your pitiful eyes but you brave through it. They eventually bubble over as your lips are forced to stretch, but Logan’s rough thumb dutifully wipes them away just like how you’d attentively cleaned his tip.

His head falls back with a slight crack and his sweaty pecs heave, “Drank a whole lot for you today, ‘m all nice and backed up just waitin’ for a pretty lil’ thing to relieve myself with.”

Suddenly you’re a bunny hopping off on a mission, no god could pull you off of Logan’s musky cock as you swallow around him. You don’t really feel like bobbing your head and humming today, you’re tuckered out from how late he kept you up late last night. He’s not going to just fuck your mouth without being asked, as much as he cares about you, you’re impossibly cute when you’re forced to do the tiniest bit of work.

If your mouth wasn’t so stuffed full of dick you’d pout, and the raised eyebrow Logan gives you means he knows that. You’re a good pet though, so you work yourself off of his length, take a deep breath, and immediately slide back down to the hilt. His full balls press against your chin and you rub the heavy sacks with both hands.

“Oh, fuck.” Logan groans, his fingernails dig into your scalp like he’s the one that needs to stay grounded. “Your gonna make your old man jizz his pants too quick if you keep fuckin’ playin’ with my balls like that.”

You don’t mind that at all, but there's still something else you’re after. You didn’t think much of how many bottles of water and glasses of alcohol he had thrown back today, maybe it was some sort of mutant thing that you just didn’t understand. Super dehydration or whatever, but the fact that he had been preparing a little surprise for his piss thirsty puppy made you want to give him your bloody heart right out of your chest.

His moans and growled promises of rewards and declarations of the rawest form of love a person could feel fade into the background. You hollow your cheeks and go for gold, wet ‘schlop!’-ing sounds bounce off the walls as you fuck your throat with his girthy cock. Not the longest in the world, another one of your blessings (you’ve heard mutterings about mission showers and some guy that shoots lasers out of his eyes taking that prize), but the way it fills up the space in your mouth to the point it could burst gives your clit tachycardia.

“Yeah, fuck, are you ready to drink up, bitch? ‘m gonna use you like a toilet, gonna cum too- god fuckin’ damn-”

You give his balls a solid squeeze as the golden shower pours down your throat and past the seam of your lips to the floor. You don’t stop your ministrations, you actually speed up your pace and bring your wrists into it. Your hands bumping against his imitation knot-hand as you move them in circles, jacking him off while your plush lips glide up and down his cock.

You’re rubbing your pussy against the cushion, it has corduroy buttons that send a tingle down your spine when they catch your clit. The emerald green fabric drags and moves as you hump it while you put your all into making your dad-boyfriend-everything cum. You’re outright bouncing his heavy balls in your hands now, they’re so full you know that one load isn’t going to be nearly enough. So you tell yourself to lock in and hum, sending vibrations down his dick.

Determined puppies get extra treats, and you’ve never gone without them. So you push yourself to make eye contact, flicking your eyes up to stare at Logan as you ruin your own throat via his dick like it was nothing more than your toy. You think it’s the sheer and essentially licentious mannerisms and the glaringly obvious truth that there are men who are not immune to watching a pretty pet posturize themselves on an altar of their own making just to paw at their owner’s legs.

“My baby bunny, too damn sweet to me, yessssss-” His mouth wrenches up almost in pain as he clings to the back of your head and pounds your throat on his own for the next minute.

“Drink it all up, let me feel you swallow it down f’r me.”

You purposefully yank yourself off of his mid stream and duck down to bob his balls on your tongue, lathering them in that pungent scent. You rotate your wrist around his tip, coaxing him to empty everything he has in him and give it all to you. Your hand becomes just as scent marked as his balls and the divots in your collarbone where drops of his piss and cum are forming tiny pools.

He groans at the sight, “Doing so fuckin’ well, collectin’ Daddy’s juices and hoardin’ ‘em all for yourself.”

Your mouth envelops his twitch dick once more, most of what Logan keeps cooped up for you belongs in your growling tummy.

“You better not hiss at me when I have to wash your mouth out later, baby.”

Thus, your perfect record remains intact, you beam around his still hard dick as you float in a starless sea of white and yellow. A coat rack for cock fulfilling its duties.

His piss isn’t too orange-y, you’re glad you don’t have to nag him about cutting back on the booze this time.

Sadly there’s no blood sticking to your scalp from his nails, but you embrace the sting their indents leave behind. They’re almost as breathtaking as the plug buried in your ass, Dad always likes to keep your holes stretched out and ready.

—————————————————————————

“Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don’t bring him home. They marry the good guy.”

With you, he was that good guy. Whatever it meant to be one after all these years and invisible scars. It’s indescribable, how much meaning you can find in having to gain the strength to take care of someone else completely. Be their Atlas and shoulder the world so they can waltz around you, their wings spread wide. He’s glad, deep down, that your wings don’t extend past the small house he’s stuffed you in.

Logan Howlett deserves a nice thing or two every once in a while, and he already got a bottle of scotch from Scott. Fucker thinks he’s so clever. You’d do just fine being the second nice thing. A shame that the nicest thing you probably have is that slick stained cushion, he’s not anybody to write home about. But you seem to have stitched your sides together when he wasn’t looking, sewn your identity into his until you had emotionally fused into one being.

It happened way too fast and when he thought he wasn’t meant for loving a little pup like you, but he’s tired of being some old grump about it. You’d probably snap and try to beat him to a pulp with the bats he keeps in the closet (for you to use in emergencies since you don’t leave), and he’d have to hunt you down through the

Anything else other than you meant about as much to him as a pile of cigarette butts.

And some time later when the dam bursts for the first time and you’re trying not to fall off that cliff, sisyphus-esque struggling through recurring hoarse sobs because Logan is uncomfortably stroking your back gently as if you were a person and not a corpse, you’ll start to feel the molten hot gold seeping in and filling the cracks.

Maybe one day you can tell him about the v-shaped scars on your back, the ones that look like they were created when something was ripped away from you. They’re slanted craters, almost, hard material resembling bone jutting out from your back. Hooks lacking their ornaments.

Hell snatch up your old fashioned grocery list (written with an almost completely dried out ink pen from the bank on a flimsy college ruled sheet of paper) and make a quick run while you heal more than just your body, submerged in another acid trip of a dream.

You wanted to make a lemon cake before the summer ended, it’s always been your favorite.