#they don’t need to kill Willy

[hrrtshape]

How do you get over the fear of never shifting

how to get over the fear of never shifting?

right, so you’re afraid you’ll never shift. you’re staring down the barrel of an eternal non-event, the metaphysical equivalent of a dinner party where the host never shows and you’re left nursing a warm gin and wondering why you ever put on shoes. the fear, then, is not just about shifting. it’s about stagnation, about the existential itch that nothing will ever happen to you, that you are, in the grand scheme of things, a closed-loop system with no exit ramp. it’s about the dread of being one of those people who say they want to do things and then never do them, like men who buy poetry books and never turn past the preface.

let’s establish something !!! this isn’t a you problem. this is an everyone problem. but listen. listen. that doesn’t mean nothing is happening. the want itself is movement. the yearning is proof of life.

but fear can be embarrassing. the fear is what stops you from talking about it in public. the fear is what makes you try to force it, and forcing it never works. this is a truth universally acknowledged, like how the people who tell you to “just relax” are always the ones who never have to try at anything.

so, how do you get over it? you don’t. not in the way you’re thinking.

you don’t kill it, or banish it. what you do is you turn the volume down. you remind yourself that shifting is not a limited resource, it is not an exclusive club. you reframe it, because fear, at its core, is a trick of perspective. if you treat shifting like a test you’re doomed to fail, then congratulations, you have built yourself a failure machine. if you treat it like a game, like a book you can open and step into at will, then suddenly it becomes something else entirely, something less cruel, less elusive. something possible.

and listen, i could do the whole inspirational speech thing, the "trust the process," "it happens when you least expect it," "insert comforting platitude here. you can do it, you're always doing it, bla bla bla." but that’s not what you need. what you need is this: shifting is a skill. sort of. it’s not a mystery, not some divine lottery where the lucky few get golden tickets to willy wonka's chocolate factory and the rest of us are left behind in the cold. it’s a skill, which means it can be developed, honed, mastered. and if you can accept that, then suddenly, the fear loses its fangs. it becomes background noise, static on the radio. it becomes something you can live with, something you can drown out with the sheer audacity of your wanting.

so, the next time the fear comes knocking, let it in. let it sit at your table. but do not let it drive. do not let it make the rules. because the fear, when you really break it down, is just this: a refusal to believe in your own capacity for transformation. and if there’s one thing i know about you, it’s that you’ve never been one to stay the same.

[wonderjanga]

Kill Licenses

Stargirl was excited! Captain Marvel had just offered to let her fight crime with him in Fawcett. The man was like a big brother to everyone. That included her. He was super nice, was normally the person who first stepped up to diffuse a situation, and overall just a big teddy bear of a man. So it was a little bit a of a surprise when she saw him snap a rapist’s neck like a twig.

Marvel: *drops the body, muttering something about paperwork*

Stargirl: *gobsmacked*

Marvel: *looks over to her for a second before doing a double take* “Oh my gods I forgot you were here!” *sounds horrified*

Stargirl: “You just killed a man!”

Marvel: “I know- I know!” *leads her away from the body* “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” *sounds completely ashamed*

Stargirl: “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You killed a rapist. That’s one less evil in the world, but my question is how are you gonna get away with this?! Cap, you’re gonna go to jail!”

Marvel: “Ah… Well, no. I have a license to kill.”

Stargirl: “Wait, you can actually have one of those?”

Marvel: “Yeah, uh me, and most of the other Fawcett heroes have one. We’ve all had them since the sixties and had to get them renewed a while back. It’s not a bad thing to have for situations like this.”

Stargirl: “…Can I have one?”

Marvel: “Yes? No? I don’t know? You should in my opinion. It’s a good safety net for if you accidentally kill a villain. You just fill out some paperwork and you’ll be safe. Do you want one…?”

Stargirl: “Yes.” *immediate answer*

Marvel: “Are you sure? I mean, you’re a teenager, so you might need a parent to sign or something.”

Stargirl: “Well, I don’t have a parent right now, but I do technically have a temporary guardian at the moment.” *eyes him*

Marvel: “No… you’re not seriously suggesting…?”

And that’s how Marvel ended up taking Stargirl to a secret government base so she could get a kill license. Stargirl got a stellar recommendation from the Captain and passed with flying colors.

As they’re leaving the base…

Marvel: “Okay, so we need to lay some ground rules.”

Stargirl: “Ground rules?”

Marvel: “Yeah, ground rules. Now I know you’re not the type of kid to go around killing people all willy-nilly, but I’ll say it just in case, don’t go killing people all willy-nilly.”

Stargirl: “Well, duh, I’m not dumb.”

Marvel: “I know you aren’t. And now onto the actually important rule. Under any circumstances, do not kill around other heroes. That’s how Huntress got kicked out of the Justice League after all.”

Stargirl: “I can’t even do it around you?”

Marvel: “Well, I guess you could. And I guess you could do it around the other Fawcett heroes, but just make sure not to do it around heroes who don’t have a license, okay? I don’t wanna get in trouble, and I doubt you wanna get in trouble too.”

Stargirl: “Gotcha.”

Marvel: “Nice. Now that that’s out of the way, wanna go for victory ice cream since you got your license?”

A solid four months passed after this incident. The two forgot about it. They were chilling. Then, Courtney forgot that her stepdad didn’t know that she could legally kill a villain, fill out some paperwork, and face no repercussions.

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “YOU TOOK MY STEPDAUGHTER OUT TO GET A KILL LICENSE?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Marvel: “Nothing! I didn’t think it was a bad thing!”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “She’s sixteen. She sliced a man’s head off. CLEAN. With practiced precision. She doesn’t even have a drivers license! What in hell would make you think it’s a good idea to give her a kill license?!”

Marvel: “Okay, her slicing off someone’s head isn’t my fault. I didn’t teach her that, and the guys who gave her the license didn’t either.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Then who did??”

Marvel: “I don’t know! Maybe she’s just bloodthirsty?”

Stargirl: “No I’m not?” *sounds slightly offended*

Marvel: *ignores her* “Look, the point is, I’m sorry for not telling you but please, please, pretty please don’t tell Batman.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Why?”

Marvel: “Oh come on. He’s super anti-kill. If you told him he’d have me removed from the Justice League almost instantly.”

S.T.R.I.P.E.: “Maybe you should be removed! You don’t just give a kid the okay to kill someone.”

Marvel: “I’m not giving her an okay to do anything. I only wanted her to have it as a safety net. I promise.”

It took a lot of convincing for Pat not to squeal to Batman, but thankfully, they got it in the end. Though, the man still ended up chewing the two out.

Inspired by @helps-the-writing-brain-go’s repost on my We Thought You Died?! post :) Thanks for the inspo!

[rafeskiss]

pretty voice ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: you’re a singer and your tour has made its way to boston where your boyfriend and his brothers attend your show. matt is sure to let you know how well you did after the show

warnings: smut duhhhh, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap his willy!!), p in v, throat fucking, dumbification, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, swearing, creampie, use of “y/n”, probably more that i can’t think of! :)

authors note: fair warning, this is my first time publishing smut, so don’t have insanely high expectations! i’ve written it before but never shared so keep that in mind. however, i can assure you this isn’t completely horrible and i did my best to make it seem realistic but hot at the same time :) hope ya like it!

you had been counting down the days until your sold out world tour made its way to boston, massachusetts. your boyfriend, matt, and his brothers were set to attend the show which made you feel slightly uneasy.

the triplets have never seen you perform live, which is what makes this show so special. you wanted matt to know you were good at what you do. so, you paced around your dressing room doing vocal warmups and eating tablespoons of honey to help your throat.

a stage worker knocked on your door twice before coming in and attaching your mic pack to the back of your dress. tonight, you wore a black strapless mini dress from versace that had hearts of many colors scattered across. you paired this with knee high black boots, which your friends referred to as your “stripper shoes”. you fixed your hair, spraying some dry shampoo on your roots and mentally said a prayer before walking out of the dressing room.

you received your cue to enter the stage, walking up 4 steps before you were greeted with hundreds of screaming teenage girls. you forgot about needing to impress matt.

that was, until, you locked eyes with him. he was standing on the second floor of the venue, the balcony, resting against the railing. watching you so intently, mouthing the lyrics to your songs. nick was singing along to all the songs he knew, while chris just knew the popular songs. but matt knew almost all of your songs. he was your biggest fan. and you were his. most times, you would be spotted attending the triplet’s shows when your schedules aligned. you’d stand backstage, just barely out of the crowds sight. all decked out in blue attire to support your boy, and even the things the rest of the world couldn’t see were blue, too. but matt got to see them after the show. your blue bra and matching blue panties; it drove matt crazy how he got to see you like that after the show, especially if he was the one winning that night.

the show came to an end and you said your goodbyes to the boston crowd, exiting the stage. you walked into a lounge area where the triplets were, along with members of your team. you were swarmed with the usual compliments: “you sounded so good” or “you look great” and you were grateful for them, but tonight they didn’t matter. the only person who’s input you cared about was matt.

he approached you, draping his arms around your neck and you wrapped yours around his waist. he whispered in your ear, “you did so good. ‘m so proud of you.”

you blushed at this, pulling away from the hug. “thanks,” you gushed.

since your next show wasn’t until saturday, you had two days to kill here in boston. you were going to stay with the triplets until you had to get back on your tour bus and depart from matt, so you had to make it count.

matt drove you all home, you took chris’ place in the passenger seat, still in your performance outfit. the drive home was filled with conversation about the concert; what their favorite part was, what songs they liked, etc. and while you were a decently known singer, you never felt famous. until now. matt made you feel famous, like you are on top of the world. you have everything you’ve ever wanted; friends that support you, a successful singing career, and a hot boyfriend. what more could a girl ask for?

you walked through the door barefoot, matt holding your unusually heavy boots. he sets them on the floor by the door as you make a run for the couch, laying down and sighing. while it may be just a simple couch, it feels pretty damn good after wearing “stripper shoes” and prancing around on a stage for an hour and a half.

nick and chris go to their own rooms, knowing you and matt need alone time after not seeing each other for a couple weeks. matt joins you on the couch, he lifts your head up and places it on his lap. his legs were your pillow and the only thing missing was a blanket, still in your tiny dress.

“you cold?” he asks, almost as if he can your mind.

you smile, “how’d you know?”

he reaches to his side and grabs a big blue blanket and tosses it over you, it’s big enough that it covers your whole body.

matt lightly strokes your hair as you lay there in the comfortable silence.

the way your head rests is so close to his dick and he can’t help it if it slowly is getting harder, which it is. you tease him, nuzzling your head deeper into his lap, a.k.a. his dick, which causes him to speak up.

“the fuck are you doing?” he laughs.

you play it off, “just getting comfy!”

“yeah, comfy my ass.” he rolls his eyes playfully.

you press a small kiss to his clothed bulge, he’s wearing baggy jeans and his dick still stands out. he sighs, not complaining.

“you gonna do this right here? in the living room?” he questions.

“mhm..” you hummed. he helped you unbutton his jeans, his black calvin kleins peaking out through the zipper of his jeans. he pulled his boxers down, revealing his dick. he was packing a very pleasant 8 inches that wasn’t too shabby in girth either.

you licked the tip first, then you licked from shaft to tip. matt closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. he placed his hands on the back of your head, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“voice sounded so good tonight, y/n,” he breathed. “bet it would still sound good if i fucked your throat.”

he pushes your head down all the way to his pelvis, feeling you gag against his cock. he thrusts into your mouth, the wet sounds like music to his ears.

as he fucked your throat, you felt tears forming in your eyes. you hollowed out your cheeks and looked up at him with doe eyes, laying on your stomach on the couch. you admired the way his eyes fluttered shut everytime he hit the back of your throat, how he’d let out small breathy moans.

“fuck,” he whispers, pulling away. he pulls his boxers down farther so his thighs are exposed. you climb on top of hip and he rolls your tight dress up to your waist, pulling your panties to the side.

“easy access, huh?” he remarks.

you whine, “put it in already…”

his dick enters you and he wastes no time slamming you down on it, his hands firmly gripping your hips. “want it so bad, yeah? you want it so bad?” he taunts, lifting you up and slamming you back down fast.

you are shocked with the speed he did that, not able to form a full sentence. “i- uhm- mhm,” you mumble.

“use that pretty voice of yours, y/n. such a pretty voice… let me hear it,” he rasped.

you bounced on his dick, the couch shaking. “mmmmm, i love your dick so much,” you moaned.

matt smirked, “there’s that pretty voice. so, so pretty.” he continued helping you bounce on his dick, his tip repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

he pulled the top of your dress down, revealing your bra-less tits. now your dress was basically like a belt, just covering your waist. your boobs bounced perfectly in front of his face, he was mesmerized.

you brought your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through it and pulling it when he’d hit your g-spot.

you let out a moan that was almost melodic, matt moaning after. “love hearing you moan on my dick.” he spoke. he gripped your hips tighter, slamming you down harder onto his dick every time.

“i’m gonna- oh god!” you whined.

“do it.” matt instructed. “cum for me.”

you nodded, babbling incoherently as you came undone on top of him. his right hand left your hip and found it’s way to your clit, rubbing you through the orgasm.

“fucked ya dumb, huh? damn,” he said.

you hummed in response, and once your orgasm passed you started bouncing again, desperate for more.

matt turned you around and pushed you onto the couch, in missionary now. now he can pound into you way easier, which is what you’re trying to ask for but you’re unable to speak.

“i— oh—“ you try.

matt smirks, “words, baby.”

this fucker, you thought. there are no thoughts inside your head other than how good his dick feels inside you, there’s no way you can speak.

“oh god… so, umph,” you sobbed as he thrusted into you with an insane amount of force. “so good,”

his thumb found its way to your clit again, rubbing it fast. your eyes rolled back as another orgasm approaches you.

“uhhh- uh—“ you babble. your brain is mush at this point, you don’t notice the bulge in your stomach. but matt does, as his hand leaves your clit and presses on the bulge his dick makes in your tummy with every thrust.

“look at that,” he says proudly. you squirm beneath him, cumming yet for the second time.

his thrusts don’t slow down, and neither do the tears running down your pink cheeks.

“can i cum inside you?” he asks as if you can even answer him. you let out a bunch of moans in response.

you let out a bunch of moans, “i’m gonna take that as a yes.” matt groans before thrusting into you once more. you lay on the couch with your dress still pulled over your pussy and your breasts pulled out.

matt stands up and pulls his boxers and pants up. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he picks you up and carries you to his room. he lays you down in his bed, his silk bedsheets feeling good on your overheated skin.

you’re exhausted, you feel like you melt into his bed. you’re on the verge of sleep but you’re startled when you hear either chris or nick’s bedroom door open.

you lift your head up, and matt opens the door to see what is going on. matt laughs and closes the door.

“what’s he doing?” you ask sleepily.

“nicks wiping the couch down,” matt giggles.

you hear nick through the walls, “i’m gonna fucking cry. never do that shit again.” he whines.

[min-imum]

part 1

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: this is part 2!!! part 1 linked above, gn!reader, lingerie, mingyu has a big dick (everyone act surprised), light bondage…?, unprotected sex (sounds nice in theory but it’s not in practice. wrap your willy don’t be silly), a little bit of crying!, ummmmm

mingyu hurries out of the building at 5.59pm. he pretends he doesn’t hear seungcheol hyung screaming for him from the second floor and books it — his goal is to get home as fast as he can.

it’s just one minute, seungcheol hyung won’t be that mad about it… hopefully.

when mingyu bursts through the door, hair disheveled, bag thrown haphazardly over one shoulder, clutching his phone in a death grip, you’re lazing around on the couch.

In That Damn Lingerie.

well, not just the lingerie — you’re also wearing a sheer little robe over it, and if anything, it just makes mingyu even harder in his pants.

you bounce up to him to greet him with a smile, but before you can even offer to take his bag off him, he drops it onto the floor and grabs you by the hips to pull you into a bruising kiss.

“shit, baby,” he moans. “it was torture waiting for work to be over. you’re such a minx.”

you giggle, letting him run his hands over your body with a crazed look in his eye. “just wanted to give you a little present while you were at work.”

he doesn’t know what to touch, his hands roaming everywhere across your body. he starts from your hips, then moves down to grope your ass, then slides them back up to run his palms over your chest. you whimper and arch into his touch.

“gyu,” you moan. he hums, kissing along the length of your neck from your ear to your collarbones. you grab his biceps for support as he sucks harder and leaves marks to replace the fading ones from a few days ago.

“dolled up all for me?” he asks in a low voice. you both know the answer, but he wants to hear you say it.

“yes,” you gasp. “all for you, gyu.”

he lifts you up easily and carries you to the bedroom, laying you down on soft sheets and kissing you again. his lips are reddened and bruised from the kissing and you have no doubt you look the same.

when he finally finds it in him to peel away from you, he leans back and tugs his shirt over his head. his body never fails to make you squirm — the defined lines between his pecs and outlining every one of his abs are testament to the strength contained in his body.

he peels off his pants next, and the length straining against his boxers makes you drool. this is what you’ve been craving all day.

“gyu,” you whine. “touch me.”

he kisses you again as he helps you out of your robe. as much as he loves it, it’s getting in the way. his eyes roam your body, now clad in just the red lingerie from earlier, appreciatively. the pictures are nothing compared to the real thing.

“you don’t know what you do to me,” he grunts. “the pictures earlier, and now this…”

you’re absolutely gorgeous. the red compliments your skin tone and matches the flush on your cheeks. seeing you wear his favourite colour makes the blood rush down to his dick embarrassingly quickly. he groans as his cock, still confined in his underwear, brushes against the bed.

however, he’s been staring for a little too long, and you’re getting impatient. you spread your legs and pull your bottoms to the side.

“i prepared myself already,” you tell him. “fuck me, please, gyu. i need it. i’ve been waiting for you all day.”

you’re going to kill him.

“okay, baby. fuck.” he exhales harshly as he finally removes his boxers. his cock springs up, engorged and painfully hard, and he hisses as he strokes it once, twice, with a lubed hand.

he slaps the tip of his cock against your hole, teasing, making you whine — a bit of payback for the suffering he had to endure after you sent him your present.

“gyu, stop teasing,” you beg. “just put it—”

he grabs both your wrists and presses them to the mattress above your head, then slides his cock into you in one smooth stroke. your mouth snaps open in a silent scream.

no matter how many times you’ve taken his cock, he’ll always stretch you good.

“keep your hands here, baby,” he instructs.

you nod obediently, and he releases your wrists to hoist your legs over his shoulders instead, and then he fucks you like he means it.

every thrust stretches you out deliciously, making you moan in stuttered little ah-ah-ahs as he fucks you relentlessly. tears slip out of your eyes in pleasure, but you keep your arms above your head like he instructed, fingers twisting harshly in the sheets.

above you, mingyu groans in pleasure at the tight heat around his cock. “shit, baby,” he pants. “you feel so good.”

your eyes roll back in lieu of a reply as his cock hammers at your spot. you babble incoherently, unable to form words.

“so pretty for me. so good.” he praises.

“g— cum, cum,” you whimper. “gonna…”

“cum for me.”

you orgasm with a scream, your warmth tightening around his cock so hard it makes his hips stutter. he looks down at you, tears running down your face, hair splayed out on your pillow, lingerie rumpled. he thrusts into you thrice more before he comes with a curse and a groan. his face twists in pleasure as he empties into you and fills you up with his cum.

mingyu holds you tight for a few moments before letting you go and pulling out slowly. his cum leaks out of you from around his cock.

“don’t move, baby.”

he grabs his phone, then snaps pictures of your disheveled state — your flushed face, your bruised neck, your crumpled lingerie, and his semen leaking out of you. “you look so pretty like this,” he tells you.

this is premium jack-off material for the next time he has to go on tour without you.

finally satisfied with his pictures, he starts to clean you up thoroughly with a wet cloth. you let him remove your lingerie for you to add to your laundry pile. he slumps down on the bed next to you once he’s done and giggles when he finds you already asleep.

“goodnight, my love,” he whispers anyway, kissing your forehead and pulling you close to him. you snuggle into his chest, seeking his warmth even while asleep, and he wraps an arm around you protectively.

he falls asleep with you, safe and satisfied, in his arms.

[forsaken-headcanons]

I had a simple idea: what if the survivors and killers swapped roles? And that idea proceeded to snowball into a full-blown yap sesh. I’m so silly when it comes to Forsaken, y’all 😋

(This is a VERY long post, so it’s been split up into two sections. Hope you don’t mind, mod!)

“KILLERS”

Noob - Picture a lone noob, lost in the spectre’s domain. No food. No shelter. Nothing. They finally come across another survivor…or should I say sustenance. That’s right. I took Noob’s whole ‘eating snacks’ thing and turned them into a cannibal. How fun! ☺️ Kind-of takes the role of Jason with a hint of Guest 666? That comment will probably change when 666 comes out, but for now, their kit revolves around tracking down survivors one by one. They can turn mostly invisible for a short period, too.

Chance - Two Face with a touch of Jigsaw. Gambling has completely overtaken his life, with his favourite being betting on lives. Never his, of course. And gods forbid he loses… Doesn’t really take the role of anyone. They specialize in ranged attacks, but he has a melee attack, too. He still has the coin flip, but it’s used to give him a random effect (can be anything from speed I to blindness III) and the only way to get rid of said-abilities is Hat Fix. But use it wisely, as that gets rid of the good abilities, too. The only way to earn bullets is by hitting survivors. He can store a max of 3, just like before. No misfiring (🎉), but the gun attack is probably hella telegraphed.

Guest 1337 - Gotta love a corrupt police officer! Well, soldier. But still- I regretfully can’t say who this guy’s main inspiration was, but I can imagine him working closely with Builderman to enact their shared (and crooked) sense of justice. His gameplay loop revolves around running down + stunning survivors. He doesn’t need to block to do a punch anymore. Instead, his block will actually give brief slowness + a highlighted aura to anyone foolish enough to hit him while it’s active. His punch (still) has a delay, but considering how it stuns survivors, I’d say it’s worth it.

Two Time - So obsessed with death/rebirth, they drove themselves mad and proceeded to go on a killing spree to ‘share this truth amongst the nonbelievers’. Mildly inspired by the Cult of the Lamb bishops, and takes the role of Jason (aka the free killer). Bro just runs around with a dagger lol. Though they have a considerably low health pool for a killer, TT makes up for it by gaining access to their second life form upon dying. They move much faster while in this state, so it’s actually advised to NOT stun them all willy-nilly, lest you unintentionally buff the killer.

Elliot - Hell hath no fury like an overworked minimum wage employee. Elliot had enough, and now EVERYONE’S gonna pay for it. Especially vengeful towards c00lkidd, and would play a special theme upon him being the last survivor. Sort of takes the role of John Doe? I mean- he revolves around dropping poisoned pizzas/other pizza-themed traps to slow down and weaken survivors.

Builderman - Oh, shoot! He has his banhammer! Oh no! He’s using it on everyone! Builderman believes that his ticket out of here involves purging the spectre’s domain of evil…but has since developed the morality of a corrupt judge. How lovely! As previously mentioned, he works closely with Guest 1337 to achieve his goals. A mix between John Doe and c00lkidd. He still builds machines, but they act like motion sensors for the most part.

Shedletsky - A self-proclaimed master swordsman, with an ego to match. Shed let the power of being an admin get to his head. He’s the most important person in the room, and will strike down anyone who says otherwise. Takes the role of 1x1x1x1. He’d use different SFOTH swords to do different attacks (Venomshank for basic swinging, Icedagger for Entanglement, Darkheart for Mass Infection,  Illumina for Unstable Eye, and Ghostwalker for Rejuvenate the Rotten). Oh, and someone snatched his chicken. I wonder who? 🤔 

007n7 - Slightly inspired by Bacon General from The Last Guest, this version of 07 wasn’t quite ready to retire, even when a baby was left on his doorstep. If anything, a child meant that he could pass down his skills to someone else. And thus he continued to reign chaos all around him, all the while pressuring his son to do the same. As a killer, he still uses scripts and exploits to give him an unfair advantage. Takes the role of c00lkidd, and uses the same moves as OG kidd for the most part. Instead of summoning clones, he instead teleports to the closest survivor (which briefly stuns him upon arriving, just to nerf it a little).

— Respawn Anon

I think you absolutely cooked on all of these. Specifically Guest 1337, Shedletsky and Builderman. These are so creative.

[brie-annwyl]

Fic idea things <3

Jason coming back to get revenge and seeing Bruce at his grave, talking to his headstone saying things like “you have a wonderful new brother, his name is Tim. I think you would’ve loved him.” And “Never tell Dick, but you were and probably always will be my favourite, Jay.” And Jason realizes oh fuck, I’m not ready for this emotional moment and I don’t even want revenge anymore. So he just continues to be Red Hood and sticks to crime alley until the Bats (Bruce, Tim, Dick, etc) get kidnapped and he’s like, oh fuck, now I HAVE to deal with this emotional bs.

Bruce just immediately hugging Jason after he finds out his identity. Even if it’s dangerous for him to do so (Jason pointing a gun at him).

Jason’s reason for wanting to kill the Joker having nothing to do with revenge, the reality of the situation is Jason has borderline debilitating insomnia because he’s so terrified he’ll wake up back in that warehouse or the Joker will find him whilst he’s asleep.

Bruce originally not wanting Tim as his new Robin because he reminded him so much of Jason. To the point where he caught himself almost calling him Jason on multiple occasions. That’s why it took so long for them to be close.

Dick accidentally calling Tim - Jason after Jason beats the shit out of him.

Jason and Tim knowing each other before Jason dies. Jason knew Tim’s parents weren’t caring for him properly and wanted Bruce to adopt him but he didn’t get the chance to tell Bruce about Tim when he was alive.

Jason getting dosed in fear toxin and getting hallucinations of Willis whilst the other bats are around.

Bruce getting dosed in fear toxin and hallucinates burying Jason again.

Jason is always freezing bc of the whole dying thing and needs other people to keep warm, but Jason’s a stubborn bitch and it’s the middle of winter.

[enha-cafe]

you really know how to make me scream

SUMMARY ➤ quick drabbles of getting fucked by ghostface! enhypen (just the obligatory scream/ghostface-themed smut)

WARNING(S) ➤ afab! reader, smut, literal ghostface! serial killers enha, brief mentions of killing, cursing, lowercase intended, blood kink, unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), creampie, slight dubcon (?), kinda pervy (would it be an enha-cafe thought if there wasn't any pervs?), mirror sex, stomach bulge, mask kink, light choking, petnames (pretty, baby, good girl, doll), voice kink

A/N ➤ i am forever and always obsessed with ghostface! enha

heeseung

cw: mask kink, good girl used like once, light choking, unprotected sex, creampie

"never would've thought you'd liked getting fucked by a psycho, always thought you were such a good girl." even though you know he's a murderer you can't help but whimper at his words. staring into his mask he tells you, "god you feel so wet and tight i can't get enough of you" while moving his hand to squeeze the sides of your neck. you can't help but clench around him causing him to groan. the masked man starts thrusting into you faster and harder. feeling him twitch inside you and the knot in your stomach you know you’re both close. movements quickly becoming sloppier right before the two of you cum. feeling him release inside of you you let out an airy moan as you soon follow him. both of you breathless and he takes off his mask all he does is flash you a smile as he slowly pulls out of you, letting his cum drip out and hit the floor.

jay

cw: petname (doll), use of the voice modulator, voice kink

“i love how you make those pretty noises for me doll” he says speaking into the voice modulator. the sound making your movements stutter and your pussy to flutter around him. “oh you like the voice doll?” violently nodding your head as you look down at him. bringing the modulator to his mouth once more “i want to see you bouncing on my cock again,” he looks at you with a smirk as he teasingly thrusts up to meet your hips. mewling out his name telling him how full you feel. jay moving his right hand from your side to start playing with your clit. the sensation having you grind against his hand causing him to chuckle. “what a cute little doll for me you probably want me to cum inside of you too huh?” the thought of being entirely full of him making you move your hips a little faster and all you can do is look him in the eyes and whimper please.

jake

cw: mention of murder, cursing, petname (good girl), dubcon-ish (?)

"baby i killed that guy because he wanted to fuck you and you would've let him. he didn't deserve you, now be the good girl for me i know you are." you shakily spread your legs open for him. jake leaves kisses on your chest as you slightly struggle to look him in the eyes. “c’mon y/n i need you to look at me or else this won’t be a very fun experience,” he says as he grabs your chin and forces you to stare into his lustful eyes. you don’t even register how he’s started to pry you open on his cock. only fully aware when he bottoms out in you. "you don't know how long I've wanted to fuck this pretty pussy of yours. dreamed of it, killed for it." he mutters into your neck. “now it’s all mine” he says as he starts to pound into you like a mad man. the force causing you to loudly moan out to him, “i knew you could be a good girl for me”

sunghoon

cw: knife play, mirror sex, stomach bulge, petname (pretty, my pretty)

in this very moment, all you can think about is the saying "it's always the quiet ones." maybe if you were a little kinder to him or something you wouldn't be in this situation. watching in the mirror as a knife traces your curves and ghostface himself thrusts into you “c’mon pretty, why are you hiding your noises from me?” he frowns while looking st you through the mirror, "do you not like seeing how deep inside of you i am?" he grabs your hand and forces you to touch the bulge on your stomach, "c'mon pretty talk to me, i might be a killer but I'm not a complete monster. i still like hearing pretty girls such as yourself scream for me... one way or another" he nibbles on your ear causing you to let out a moan and with that he chuckles and starts playing with your clit. "see i knew you could do it for me," making sure to flash you a toothy grin before sucking on your neck, "such pretty noises from my pretty."

sunoo

cw: knife play, blood play, petname (baby)

all you did was answer a phone call, and now you have sunoo holding a blade to your cheek as you’re pinned against a wall watching him thrust into you. “you look so pretty when you think i’m going to hurt you,” he says while sucking on your neck. you let out a whimper of his name and you can feel him throb inside you. “baby let me have a little taste of you,” he says lightly cutting your cheek. the sudden pain causing you to squeeze your legs around his waist even tighter. causing sunoo’s hips to stutter and him to moan at your action as he goes to lick your cheek. moaning at the taste of you and squeezing on your thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. “god i just can’t get enough of you” he says right before pounding into so hard it has your head thrown back.

jungwon

cw: blood kink, knife play, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing

you know you shouldn't. you know you should be afraid. you know he's a killer. but god there's something so hot about a crazy man with blood on his face. especially when he's under you while you bounce on his cock. watching this tough murderer become putty in your hands as he digs his fingers into your hips, "please y/n you feel so good." bending down you capture his moans in a kiss and grab his knife from the bedside. pulling away he follows your lips and he whimpers for you. “you’re so cute” you tell him as you lightly trace his chest with the knife. before you can react you feel him quickly tense up and a warm liquid enter your womb. not even daring to stop his movements all he can say in response is “shit that was hot” as he watches his cum slowly pull out of you.

perma tag list: @hoonslutt @moonlighthoon

[lisired]

the devil’s cup

pairing: demon!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), demons/underworld, mentions of death and self-destruction, unprotected sex/breeding (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), edging, very slight degradation

summary: In a world where humans and demons are separated by earth and the unknown, you’re curious about the creatures that most mortal beings are too frightened to investigate. More specifically if they can please you sexually. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.

wc: 6.8k (this is the shortest fic I’ve done in a minute)

a/n: quick (and short) write! as always, feedback is appreciated!

There was a bit of division between the upper and underworld. 

That said, that never prevented the interaction of humans and infernal spirits. It only limited them, though even with said inhibitions in place, forbidding could only go so far within mortal control. 

Not everyone was god-fearing. Least of all demons. 

Though you weren’t exactly fearless, you were curious to a fault. Human knowledge of the underworld was limited. You lived in a world where plenty of supernatural beings - werewolves, faes, vampires and the like - coexisted in an integrated society, but demons lived in an unexplored world of their own.

Which, obviously, was the underworld. 

The church insisted it was for your own sake. You had practically never mentioned your intrigue to anyone, though that was chiefly because you were terrified to. The pastors were passionate in their sermons, deeming anyone who played with the devil a sinner beyond redemption and a betrayer of faith. You knew you’d be thrown scornful glances in an instant. 

You weren’t the only curious one. There were plenty groups of people who conjectured about the underworld and its occupants. Which was not an option for you for many reasons. First of all, they teetered on extremism. Second, you would undoubtedly be banished from society for so much as breathing near them. 

Your only option was your friend. Who happened to be supernatural himself. 

Ten laughed. “Let me get this straight. You want to fuck around with the devil?” 

You frowned. Though you definitely preferred the ridicule over the comtempt. He, however, wasn’t exactly in the place to mock you. “Come on, Ten. Didn’t you call on a succubus?” 

“Correction - you want to fuck the devil.” 

“Ten,” you whined. 

Ten shook his head. This was hilarious, because you were completely serious. It was also somewhat worrying. Most humans that had toyed with the devil for too long never survived. “Babe, I’m a vampire. Have been for sixty-two years. I’m technically in my eighties. You, sweetheart, are a human. Incubi can kill mortals like you.”

No wonder he tended to act like a cranky grandpa. You folded your arms stubbornly. 

The truth was that you were searching for a way to spice up your sex life and strangely enough, a demon sounded like exactly what you needed. You were desperate at this point. The men earth had provided for you were useless. You could count on both hands how many times you had given them a try and were ultimately unsatisfied. You were out of options. 

“One time won’t hurt, right?” you asked, batting your lashes. “Please, Ten. I just want to try. I can only die if I do it continuously.” 

Ten blew out a sigh. “Woman, you’re insane.” 

You whined, “Pretty please? I’ll literally buy you those Starbucks drinks you like everyday for a month. I need this.”

Ten mulled the offer over. On one hand, this was not only dangerous, but deadly. There was a chance that he could risk losing you in the process. But on the other, you were a responsible adult woman. It wasn’t like you would be selling your soul. You’d simply be testing the waters. “Fine. I’ll help you, but you better only do this shit once. I’ve had to bury a friend before. I don’t wanna go through that hell again.”

You lept up excitedly and cheered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much.”

“Whatever,” Ten said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back later with the stuff. And I’m taking it back after tonight.” 

Frankly, you couldn’t care less. You knew your best friend was only trying to protect you, and you genuinely didn’t intend on disobeying. You were curious, not stupid. Nor did you have a death wish. 

Ten reappeared later that night with the materials necessary to summon a demon. Technically, you could have done it without them, but that would’ve been a much more ineffective, chance-based approach. It also most likely would have taken way longer. According to Ten, the board had a ninety-percent success rate. 

He had told you, “Unless you’re like, extremely unfuckable, it’ll work for sure.”

You snorted. 

That was how you met Haechan. 

Black smoke rose from the ground, wavering murkily with a ghastly noise until it dwindled fainter and fainter. You took a step or two back, holding your breath with curious fear as you waited for the mist to clear. 

Once it did, the handsomest man you had ever seen materialized before you.

You audibly gasped. Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. His dark hair was slicked back, forehead exposed to the breeze that temporarily coursed through your home, and he was tan-skinned. Like the heat of hell had graced his body. 

His pretty lips curled into the utmost smuggest grin. “Aren’t I lucky? I could feel that you would be gorgeous.” 

“You could feel it?” you repeated dumbly. In your defense, you were stunned. 

The average idea of a demon was a grotesque blood-hungry monster and needless to say, this nameless boy didn’t fit the bill. Part of you was half certain that Ten was pranking you, firm in his decision that it was foolish for a human to engage with a demon. He seemed like a regular, everyday being. Except maybe not. Most men weren’t this beautiful. And his presence was inexplicably strong.

Haechan scoffed, “Yeah? How else do you think I got here? I could feel your energy. It was calling me.” 

The room reeled. The air felt different, thicker. Your body lighter. There was an air of danger to this boy with a trace of something else that you were equally drawn to. 

Energy. Was it possible that you could feel his energy too? 

Given you were in a state of mental narcosis, more or less the effect of his aura, Haechan gleaned you wouldn’t respond and instead approached you. It felt like you were jolted awake when his warm skin pressed to yours, his lips and breath ticking your neck. 

“Haechan,” the demon whispered, but it felt like the thrumming of the wind. “That’s the name I want you to say tonight.”

Heat wafted over you. You nodded, because you couldn’t say another word. As if an invisible hand was clasped around your throat. 

Haechan coiled an arm around your waist, forcing your back flush against his chest. “Tell me what you want,” he purred. Your thighs were bare and he snagged the opportunity to grope them, free hand leisurely rising higher. For now, they landed squarely at your ass. “So I can help you.”

You swallowed hard. Part of you was afraid, but the other was enticed by the danger. It always had been. Your voice lacked complete confidence. “I… wanted something new. The men here aren’t adequate. I needed something else.” 

“Oh?” Haechan cocked a brow and snickered. “Don’t worry about that tonight, baby. I’ll make you forget about everyone except me.” 

For a while, you had been at war with yourself, dithering between your options. But Haechan had tempted you. Whatever fight you had abandoned you as he brought you to your bed. 

Every alarm in your body was ringing, sirening to you that danger was near at hand, but the soft lulling of his voice abated your panic. The horns were blown, but you were too far gone to hear them. 

Haechan lay you at your backside and you swayed like a leaf, throat parched dry when you glimpsed into his eyes. They were red with lust, dark as blood. “Don’t look so scared,” he reproached, but it was of little substance given the smidgen of a smirk you’d seen on his lips. 

You were still tongue tied and at a loss for breath, never mind words. 

Haechan’s touch wasn’t gentle in the slightest as he came to tear your clothes away, shredding them layer by layer. His fingers skimmed against your body and your skin scorched where he touched you. 

Admittedly, it was somewhat true that you were frightened, but this was exactly what you needed to fill the empty chasm of excitement in your sex life. Between thrill and fear, the feeling that coursed through your veins was indistinguishable. 

You had cycled through mortals and been left unimpressed each time. There was bad, and then there was decent. You wanted neither. You wanted someone to go above and beyond. They tended to do only enough to barely get you there. If even. You’d seen it all; you wanted mind-blowing.

You shivered at the cool sensation of the air against naked skin, but it was immediately negated by Haechan’s body heat. Still, it wasn’t enough. You whimpered, “Touch me.” 

“Eager, aren’t we?” Haechan snickered. “Say please.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Please. I need you to touch me.” 

Satisfied, Haechan snatched your panties with a final tear and skirted a hand between your thighs. They were already open and parted, welcoming him keenly. 

It was only when you felt his slender fingers scissoring between your thighs did you notice how wet you were. The thought alone had been arousing. The sight of him even more. It was the weaving of those individual factors that had you gathering in his palms like water. 

Haechan shook his head with mirth. “Something tells me that you don’t get wet like this too often. Do you, baby?”

The answer to that was so embarrassingly obvious that you wanted to shrink until nothing remained of you. Your cheeks stung. “No. Not really.” The more you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so aroused. 

If ever. 

“Aren’t you a little sinner,” Haechan said and chuckled to himself. Needless to say, he was amused. A pretty girl like you that could most likely have any guy she wanted calling on a demon because the men on earth can’t satisfy her? He was delighted. And almost humiliated on their behalf.

Like the cruel demon he was, he added, “It’s a little pathetic, don’t you think? Getting wet for me when you could easily find a human to fuck.” 

You whined, but ironically pulsed around his fingers. Those words were as true as they were humiliating. His fingers coaxed into you with a loud, wet squelch. 

Haechan eyed you with the intensity of a ravening werewolf. The likes of you were familiar - pretty girls that were too curious for their own good and went looking into entities where they had no business for pleasure. Never would you be the first or last, though regardless he had a job that he was more than glad to fulfill. 

Pleasure played out on your face. That said, you wanted more. You had always considered that maybe you were the problem. Maybe you were the one at fault because you were too greedy, too insatiable. Enough was a word of little subtance to you. 

But you noticed a sort of stark divergence here. With your previous conquests, you were unsatisfied because they took pleasuring you as if it were drudgery. This was more or less a job for Haechan, yet in spite of that, he seemed enlivened. 

Boys came a dime a dozen. Pleasure like this? It was a luxury far beyond your worth. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered. You were even willing to beg, if that was what it took. 

“Mm, no. Not yet,” Haechan said, having a good chuckle at the look of incredulity on your face at your expense. 

Never had you ever been turned down. It was always you that turned people away. Men that were bound to be disappointments in the sack lined up for you. They never hesitated to take advantage of your desperation. 

Haechan curled his fingers, sending every wall of the room reeling. Your pupils dilated when he leaned in, firmly holding your jaw to make you meet his stare. “Human boys don't build you up, do they? They just take what they want and leave. I'm going to take my time with you, baby.”

You doubted anyone had ever uttered anything like that to you before. 

His grip slackened. Not many words needed to be exchanged, the two of you content with the sounds of your soft moans and wet cunt filling the air. 

The glimmer of mischief on Haechan’s face turned pensive. “Can’t decide how I want to fuck you. What about you, pretty thing - how do you want to be fucked?”

You felt your cheeks warm in response to his question, though you had a contemplative answer. Any additional eye contact would have landed you in an early grave, but you wanted him to take control. Too many times had you had to take the lead because you chased your own pleasure. You were in dire need of relaxation. 

And if you were being honest, you'd let him have you any which way. 

“From behind,” you replied, clinging to the pretense of indifference. 

The mischief returned at the speed of light and Haechan taunted, “Scared to look me in the eyes?” 

You blurted, “Can you read my mind?”

“Yes.”

Every functioning gear within you halted and your body slammed on the brakes. Made worse by the serious look on his face. 

Then, Haechan erupted with laughter. “Sike.” You were relieved, though not amused. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m not psychic.” 

As if to apologize for the massive scare he’d only just now given you, Haechan swept in and pressed a brief yet unnaturally hypnotic kiss to your lips.

You felt like you could die at any given moment, but strangely enough, you liked it. 

It was game over when he interposed another finger between your walls, tall and slender. You were plagued by so many emotions all at once that you hardly realized how close you'd gotten in no time at all. Time expedited, but the minutes ticked slower.

You grabbed Haechan’s wrist, fighting for control of his movements, though not that he needed much guidance. It was an act of bad habit, you supposed, but Haechan smirked and let you do as you pleased. For now. 

“Haechan,” you whimpered, reminded of the name you were instructed to say. 

The man in question eyed you with a lustful awe. It was the first time you’d said his name and brother, was it a delightful noise. He hummed, “Close?”

You bobbed your head. No words needed to be said. The way your entire body responded to his touch as if it was owned by him was enough of an indication. 

In a mere instant, you felt empty and desolate, warmth fading into crisp ice without warning. You whimpered, turning to look at the culprit, but met with only a smug smile. 

No way in hell had this demon just edged you. 

Haechan beat you to a word and explained, “I want you to cum on my dick. Is that alright, princess?”

“Please, hurry,” was your desperate response. You had no protest. You simply needed to feel him as soon as possible. 

Haechan had a nice laugh at the sight of you trying to find his hands anew and fuck yourself against them, but retrieved them, bringing his fingers that were coated in your slick to his mouth and sucking them clean. Ironically, you tasted like heaven. 

You moaned when Haechan kissed you, his saliva palliative to the ache of the wait and wanting. It took your mind off of the throbbing between your sensitive thighs while he shredded what remained of his clothes. You were so wrapped in his dark magic, a pawn in his devilish game, but you didn’t care. He could destroy you until you were no longer flesh and bones and you'd say, “Thank you.” 

Haechan was ready with burning lust and he growled, “Hands and knees.” 

You didn’t hesitate to scramble into position, as if he'd punish you for wasting a second of time. Every voice in your mind was subdued and you only listened to the thudding sound of your racing pulse. It screamed even louder the closer Haechan’s body came into yours. 

A gasp tore out of you the moment you noticed his cock stretching you open, ceasing the long wait. It was accompanied by another hushed growl, Haechan’s hands finding purchase at your hips. He filled you nice and slow, the pace so agonizing that you were tempted to believe he was testing you for the sake of toying with you. 

“Don’t tease. Please,” you begged. “I want you to fuck me - hard.” 

Haechan cocked a brow, but made no protest. “Whatever my pretty girl wants.” 

You fought for breath when every inch was encased between your warm and wet walls, pulsing around his thick cock. Haechan penetrated you with a hiss at how you swathed around him so tightly. 

Your body came alive at the touch of the undead, responding to his body with voracity. Haechan had no intention of restraining himself, ramming his hips into yours vigorously. He set a brutal pace, enough to sate you and your unnatural urges. For now. Your flesh scorched with fever, broiling under his fingertips yet craving more of him, more of the singe. You were indescribably elated. 

Haechan seized you to a bruising extent and braced his teeth into your shoulder, effectively smothering a noise. You let out a cry of pain and pleasure, warped together to create some inexplicable sensation.

“So goddamn tight,” Haechan hissed, giving your ass a smack or three. Every thwack sent you clamping even tighter. “You like it rough?”

Between a thread of moans, you whimpered, “Yes.” But the way he drove his cock into you - hurried and ruthless - bundled your head into the mattress, your cries smothered by the pillows.

Haechan latched onto your hair, letting out a hollow, breathy laugh when you moaned. You were so eager to take him, never shying away from his actions.  

It was paranormal, like nothing you had ever felt before. You'd yet to discern the invisible shroud of mist that billowed in the air, the spine-chilling gale that swept over you and chaperoned his presence, but you loved it. It kept you on your toes and made you hold your breath. Something to this extent felt forbidden, like you were getting a taste of pleasure beyond human capacity. It was an ethereal and otherworldly type of pleasure.

You felt so light that you could topple over from one breath. 

Haechan’s eyes lingered on the way your whole body tremored at the impact of his thrusts, your ass meeting his cock with a slap and your breasts bouncing underneath you. Your body was gradually beginning to be coated in bruises and scratches, remnants of him that would linger even after he was long gone. 

You loved that he was rough, loved that he fucked you like there was no tomorrow without overdoing it. He only had one night to give you the best dick of your life and was successful so near in. 

Many had tried, but many had failed to fuck you like this. You knew you would be sad to see him go. 

“Oh my god,” you cried, your voice given an outfall for speech courtesy of the way Haechan lifted your head by your hair. You were melting into abyss. 

Haechan tugged at it a little rougher and demanded, “Tell me you love this.” 

“I love it. I love it so much,” you babbled. Your thoughts were revoked. Your body was on fire. You knew one thing and it was the feeling that lit you off and riled you up. 

The demon boy smiled. He wasn’t psychic, but he knew how you felt without saying. It was in how your body responsed to his, submitting to his every move. Your body betrayed you, presenting all of your emotions on a silver platter. 

Haechan discerned you were near your climax and leaned closer, teeth grazing over your shoulder when he growled, “You’re close.”

It wasn’t a question; you were close. That much was obvious. You could only bob your head, blabbering more hardly coherent sentences that he found amusing. 

You fisted the pillows and sheets for dear life, clinging to whatever you possibly could to anchor yourself. You felt like you had been put together solely to be destroyed afresh. As if his intention was to shatter you piece by piece. 

In that case, he was doing a damn good job. 

If possible, Haechan’s pace became even more merciless. “Let go,” he coaxed surprisingly gently, strumming you to climax with his fingers at your clit. Your body one-hundred percent intended to obey him, unable to defy its urges. 

You screamed with orgasm, burying your face into the pillows to smother your cries of pleasure. Tears welled in your eyes, rivulets trickling down your cheeks. Your body felt whole and empty all at once, overcome by an overwhelming sense of relief. Even after you came, you were still pulsing around his cock, eager to get him there. 

“Cum,” you begged, still waiting for him. “Please?” 

The desperacy in your voice practically finished Haechan then and there, and he grunted, “Fuck.” There was no way he could tell a pretty thing like you, “No.” 

Haechan found a bruising grip on your ass to anchor himself and his cock twitched with release inside you, his mouth parting with a series of moans and growls. You whimpered when he filled you, painting your walls with warm cum. Only then did your spent body slacken, collapsing exhaustedly against the sheets. 

Haechan flipped you on your back and kissed the corner of your lips. There was something abnormally soporific about the way he tasted, because your eyelids began to weigh more than your body altogether. 

“That’s it, baby. Go to sleep,” Haechan whispered, lulling you to sleep with his gentle voice. 

There was nothing to fight. Your body lost all strength when you climaxed, and you succumbed to sleep in a matter of mere seconds.

“Atta girl,” was the last thing you heard before pitch black darkness bled into your vision. 

When you roused from your sheets in the morning, Haechan was - as expected - no longer there, but traces of last night remained. Your bed was a mess, but you were in shambles, hair tangled on your bed and your body stained with tears, scratches and bruises.

Humorously, though somewhat questionably, only none of his semen was there. You wondered if demons could get humans pregnant. 

You were elated, but somewhat disappointed. From the beginning, you were aware that you couldn’t see him again, but after last night, you were desperate. There was no way in hell he could show you a good time to simply never see you again. It was unfair. 

The sound of your front door being pounded mercilessly startled you and you jumped out of bed, scrambling to cover your bare body and then rushed to the door.

When you opened the front door, Ten awaited you on the other side.

“You look like hell,” commented Ten offhandedly. You were always in wonder at how vampires could roam in the daylight, but allegedly, it was courtesy of potions and spell work. 

“I had a long night,” you deadpanned. 

Ten chortled and stepped inside. “I’m sure.”

You shut the door behind the pair of you and led him to your bedroom where your sheets were a disheveled mess on your bed. Last night had left the board on the floor to be forgotten. 

Disinterestedly, you plopped on your bed. There was a question billowing like fog in your brain and you feigned your most indifferent tone when you asked, “Will he want to come back?”

Ten thought nothing of your question and shrugged, leaning over to pick up the materials you'd abandoned. “Depends. Demons know these… arrangements get messy. Some care, some like messy. It's not rare. Just in case, I’ll have a witch friend of mine fix a spell to ward evil spirits off.”

“Oh,” you replied, playing innocent. But that wasn’t what you wanted. You dwelled over last night and the thought of Haechan coming back for seconds. You weren’t special, that you knew. Demons of his kind has a nonselect variety to choose from, but you knew only he could pleasure you like that again. 

Like he was catching on, Ten added, “It’s not a good idea to give him a chance to get attached. Some demons are bitter and possessive. The moment they want you to be theirs, they’ll hurt you and anyone else who gets in their way in response to a perceived betrayal.”

His warning spooked you, but not by much. You assured Ten that you understood and would leave that night behind you. After all, with all the measures taken, it was out of your hands. 

One night became several. 

In your defense, you weren’t the one that summoned him. It was because of your energy. He always claimed he could feel you. You frequently laid brooding in your home, yearning for him to return. 

And then, he appeared. You knew when Haechan was there and when he wasn't. It was his presence. You could feel it in your chest. You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was in range, a gust of cool air would sweep over your shoulders and a thick gale would strike your lungs, rendering you breathless. 

Haechan materialized in that same shroud of mist, snickering to himself when your startled figure trembled. 

You gawked when you saw him in full glory. “How the hell…” 

“Your friend isn’t the only one who knows a sorcerer,” Haechan grinned smugly. “I felt your yearning - did you miss me?” 

Oh, did you. You had spent the past couple of weeks trying to get yourself off the way that he had, but to no avail. There was only one remedy for you and you were forbidden to have him. 

“A little,” you admitted. Though you had a feeling he could see right through you, it was a lot easier to say compared to admitting you thought of how his hands felt on your body every time you touched yourself. 

“I think you missed me a lot,” Haechan teased, stepping closer. Meanwhile, you were riveted in place, unable to move. You gasped when his hands browsed up your dress, targeting your damp panties. “Are you saying this isn’t for me?” 

You tensed and whined, “Haechan.”

Haechan gave you a smile, the same devilish one he always wore. He slipped your panties to the side and brushed his slender fingers against your dampening cunt. “Tell me you missed me.” 

“I missed you. I missed you a lot,” you confessed without hesitation. “I… I’ve been thinking about you all day.” 

He cocked a brow and crammed a pair of fingers inside you. “Yeah? You been thinking about me fucking that tight little pussy?”

Your knees were bucking. You needed him more than you’d ever needed anything before in your life. “Please,” you cried. “Please, please…” 

The demon silenced you with a kiss that made you feel so light, you almost tipped over. He caught you in his arms and carried you to your bedroom. 

When you were finished, Haechan fell heaving at your side and groaned, “You’re always so goddamn tight.”

You giggled. “You love me.” 

Like you had said some forbidden word, Haechan switched on a dime and gave you a fair warning. “That’s the snag, baby girl. I can’t love you.”

That you knew, but it stung to hear aloud. You were by no means in love with the demon you'd only fucked on two occasions, but hell, he seemed like the best option. There was a bit of venom in your tone when you responded, “But you fuck me.”

“Yes. Because that’s what I do. I have sex with you needy little humans and drain you to death of your energy. Then the next one comes along and the cycle repeats. I can’t love you because you’re going to die some day, babe. Even sooner the longer you mess around with me.” 

You blinked. He was a hell of a lot more forthright than you expected. Haechan was going to fuck you within an inch of your life. Literally. 

That was how the cycle began. Haechan informed you of a simpler way to summon him and he began to visit you more often, stealing your nights away. You never mentioned him to anyone. If Haechan didn’t kill you in time, Ten would undoubtedly burn you alive. 

You loved spending nights with Haechan, and over time, those moments together bled into days and mornings. More often than not, you would talk the day away, discussing everything under the sun and moon. 

Six years ago. Those events culminated in this later two-part dilemma you’d brought upon yourself. 

Weeks turned into months. You were growing weaker. The venom was slowly killing you, contaminating your blood far beyond human reclaim. 

Additionally, everything the two of you had said about loving each other had gone terribly south. The more you got to know Haechan, the deeper you fell. And watching you fall drastically ill under his influence tore an unfamiliar feeling from his cold heart - fear. Losing you cooled his already icy blood. 

Haechan heaved a breath, trying to remain calm. The two of you knew that this would happened, but goddamn, he would have never predicted that he of all people would fall in love. It was almost laughable. “I can immortalize you, but there’s a catch.”

You eyed him expectantly. “Like what?” 

“You’ll watch the people you love die,” Haechan said morosely. “Your entire life will fade with your mortality.”

You frowned. That was a given, but you loathed the thought of that day. No matter how far in the future it may have been. There were always immortal beings to befriend at your disposal, but the current mortal ones - your family - would pass on without you. 

But even more, you loathed the thought of them having to bury you. You would take the pain in sacrifice if it meant they never had to feel the empty ache of lost. 

“Okay.” 

Haechan shot you a look. “Okay, as in what?” 

With shaky hands, you blew out a breath and told him, “I’ll do it.” 

Haechan interlaced your fingers between his and pulled you close. The last thing he wanted was to lose you, but he also wanted you to do this completely out of your own free will. “Are you sure? This isn’t some reversible shit. No take backs.” 

“I would rather bury my family than have them bury me,” you whispered fiercely. It was all you had the strength to do. “I made this mess, now I have to fix it. I can’t let them be miserable over a stupid mistake I made. I won’t.” 

Instead of recoiling from your slight outburst, Haechan held you even firmer. It was a sensitive spot for the both of you. There were available alternatives, none long-term. This was by far your safest option. 

Death was not an option. 

“If this is what you want,” Haechan said, like he was giving you one final chance to reconsider your choices. But you were firm in your decision. This was the price that you had to pay. “Everything will be okay. Baby, I swear.” 

God, you wanted to believe him with everything you had, but you were terrified. For as long as you'd known him, Haechan had always been more calm and self-controlled than you ever were, but even now you could see cracks in his demeanor. He wanted to be strong for the both of you, knowing you would shatter the moment he did, but this had him rending at threat of rupture. 

Haechan lowered himself to your height to be eye-level with you and asked, “Can you get dressed?” 

You bobbed your head. You weren’t completely deprived of your vigor. Not yet, although you had been passing through the days on preservation potions and the like. They could sustain you temporarily, but not for very long. 

The demon boy you loved brought you to a secluded area in the woods, timing your errand perfectly. Before dusk was preferable. Evil creatures lurked in the wilderness, preying on vulnerable humans like you. Not all were fond of humans and vice versa.

And you were already ailing. 

There was a tiny cabin across a river, lying at its bank. According to Haechan, it was home of a wizard. 

“Your friend’s a wizard?” you had asked. 

Haechan nodded. “Basically. But Mark prefers being called a warlock. Apparently, wizard is an offensive term that’s only used in fairytales. I still call him Wiz, though.”

You gave him a tiny nod. Many if not most magical beings lived in areas isolated from humanity. There was long, unaccounted for history between the two races and you couldn’t blame them for any resentment. 

But it also presented the fair chance that he wouldn’t want to help you. 

Haechan opened the door to the cabin and you treaded behind him like he was safeguarding you. There was a man behind a cauldron that billowed with green smoke. 

You took a glance around. The cabin was dim, sunlight filtering through the blinds of a single window upstairs. Candles and lanterns burned, scattered elsewhere. The warlock spared you not a glance, engrossed in his brewing, though you noticed a crystal ball on the table, reflecting a perfect view that overlooked the bridge. 

It most likely had warned him someone was approaching. 

Haechan put on his cheesiest smile and greeted, “Sup, Wiz. Been working out lately?” 

Mark slammed on the brakes and bristled. “Hell no. Whatever you want - the answer is no.”

Your demon boyfriend frowned, walking beside his friend to give a slight nudge to his side. “C’mon, bestie. I didn’t even ask for anything.”

Mark didn’t waste a second. “I know. And every time you compliment me, it’s only because you want something.” Then, the warlock shifted his gaze and seemed to finally notice you. “Who’s the chick - new piece?” 

Haechan rubbed his neck. “Yeah, about that…”

“Haechan, hell the fuck no,” Mark interjected as soon as he put the pieces together. “You know you have to talk to Johnny about that.” 

“See, that’s the thing. Johnny will kill me. And I’m technically already dead,” Haechan joked, trying to ease the mood. 

You swallowed like you could gorge all of your burdens with one gulp. Part of you was ready to accept that death was inevitable and tinkering with your fate was deadly. As a spirit from the underworld, maybe you could meet the boy you loved again, but you’d fade into a distant memory to everyone else you loved. 

Mark removed his spectacles and massaged his temple before he sighed. “Do you love her?” 

“Yes.” It was instant. He didn’t even need to consider it. That made you smile. 

“Like, for real?” Mark pressed. Like he was in disbelief. “I can’t waste time and casting energy on a pretty girl you just want to keep around for a little longer.”

Patience slowly dimming, Haechan snapped, “When have I ever cared if they lived or died, Mark?” 

You came to clutch his arm, and Haechan softened, switching on a dime. Much to Mark’s surprise. Even he couldn’t deny that you seemed to have an effect on Haechan - a grip that no else had. 

Haechan took a deep breath. “Look, my bad. But she’s special. I don’t know how it happened, it just did. And it would be easier to do a cord-cutting spell and toss her away, but I don’t want that. I want her.” 

A strained moment of silence passed before Mark finally groaned, “Fine.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll do the spell,” Mark said stubbornly. 

It felt like a weight was lifted from your chest and you could breathe easier when those words left his mouth. You watched Haechan’s face twist with relief, and he whirled you into his arms, hauling you with a supernatural strength that made you squeal and giggle. “Fuck. I forgot you’re not yourself,” he said and placed you back on the ground. 

You shook your head and smiled. Then, Haechan turned back to Mark with open arms and smirked. “Come here.”

Mark grimaced. “Absolutely not. I’m warning you. Come any closer and I’ll get Phantom.”

“Phantom?” you repeated, blinking. 

Mark whistled, and suddenly you heard a low caw fill the air. Then, you saw a creature fly from the single window at the speed of light and finally come to a rest at Mark’s shoulder. 

It was a raven. 

“My familiar,” Mark explained proudly. “Every warlock - and witchtress - has one.” 

Ignoring the way the raven - Phantom - was staring down your soul, you gave a quick nod and asked, “So, we’re really okay?”

“Yes. I’ll work on a spell for you as soon as possible,” Mark replied.

Haechan smiled and swept you into a kiss, then Phantom immediately began to caw as if she was trying to wake the dead. 

Haechan snickered and put his arms between you both. She was very prone to attacking. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight. There’s enough Haechan to go around.” 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. But you were happy. You still had Haechan, and you always would. Nothing would come between you. Death or Phantom. 

Five years ago. 

Now, you were alive and well. And not only you, but someone else. 

After hours on your feet, you had never been more relieved to sit down. Ten eventually came to accompany you, having a good laugh at the weariness prominent on your face at your expense. 

“Tired?” he asked. 

“Try exhausted. I’m ready to drop,” you drawled. 

Ten laughed, then shook his head and smiled faintly. “Tell me how it’s been exactly four years and I still can’t believe I’m a godfather?” 

“Please,” you chortled. “They’re growing up so fast. I can’t keep up.” 

You had discovered the answer to a previous thought. Demons could get humans pregnant. As it turned out, you also had to confess to Ten that you’d been sleeping with Haechan for longer than he'd thought. After all, the evidence had been growing in your belly for nine months. 

Not one child, but two. 

Ten gave you a tiny nudge. “Haechan really did a number on you.” 

Through the corner of your eye, you could see him approaching and joked, “Speak of the devil.”

Haechan plopped down beside you, head in your lap, and said, “I’ve never had to work for anything in my life before those two.” 

You and Ten giggled. “Get off me, you big baby,” you said lightheartedly. “Who has them?” 

“Your mother,” Haechan replied, not budging like a boulder. 

Or so he thought. You were both caught off guard when your two four-year-old twins eagerly came running after you, refusing to give their mommy and daddy a break. 

Ten came to the rescue and leapt up, exclaiming, “Who wants cake?” 

As expected, your two tiny twins turned around as soon as they came, shouting, “Me!” Gratefully, you mouthed, “thank you” to Ten, who led the little army away to dessert. 

Haechan climbed into the seat beside you, and said, “We made this.”

“We did,” you replied, beaming. “And I love every part of it. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Me neither,” Haechan said, pressing a kiss to your lips. Now that the coast was clear, a mischievous smile crept onto his lips. “So, I was thinking that once we put the kids to bed, we could have our own little party upstairs.”

God, that sounded like heaven to you right now. “Say no more.”

Haechan snickered and lifted you into his lap. You rested your head against his lap comfortably. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too,” you said, a smile tugging your lips.

Those three words summed up everything. There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to tell him that you always wanted a family with him, that you wouldn’t have it any other way. That you knew in your heart that this was the way it was meant to be. But you settled for, I love you. And you settled because he already knew. 

“As much as we fuck, we should have expected twins.” 

Those words snapped you out of your train of thoughts and you stood to your feet. “Save it. We have a birthday party to celebrate.”

Haechan followed you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Yes, ma’am. Mind if we go hit the dance floor in celebration?”

“Not at all,” you told him. 

And it was easily the most magical moment of your life being twirled around in Haechan’s arms, the rest of your little family soon coming to join you both.

[jwanniie]

hiii i love your account!! can you please do gp stepsis hanni taking readers virginity?? 🥹

Aww thank you so much love!!🤭❤️

Pairings: G!p stepsis Hanni x fem reader!

Warnings: somno, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), babytrapping, reader bleeds a little, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, thigh fucking, tit job, p in v, not proofread, virgin reader, step cest and just filthy smut!!!

Word count: 1k ish

—————————————————————————

She was the sweetest Step sister you could ever have, she was truly sent from heaven and the sweetest girl you’ve ever met.

She’d make you breakfast with little motivational notes, she’d do your laundry knowing how much you don’t like doing it, she’d spend hours to help you if you need help in your school work, she’d take you on little dates where she’d buy you lunch after a hard week of school to make it less stressful and she’d clean your room so you could have a better environment to work at.

She truly was one of the best people in your life that you adored a lot, your stepmom was as sweet as her, you were grateful for both and grateful that your dad found great people to bring into your lives.

You don’t know the twisted truth about this, the not so sweet or innocent reality why she’s doing all of this.

She has had her eyes on you from the very first time she laid her eyes on you. She found the sexiest fucking woman on this earth.

Something about your gorgeous body, that anyone would kill for and your mesmerizing features was something anyone would wish to have.

She wanted to fucking ruin you, because how dare someone be this perfect. Ruin and show you things you’d never think your own step sister would do to you.

Get you a dumb cockwhore for her dick and ruin that little virgin hole of yours, stuff you full of her babies and take your whole innocence away.

She brought you her fresh orange juice, that you didn’t take a lot of time to down. The sudden urge for your lids to shut and your brain to become all numb was something you couldn’t fight.

And suddenly you were softly breathing, chest inhaling and exhaling softly and peacefully while your eyes tightly shut, and body in a deep slumber.

She peeked her head from the little gap in the door, seeing you in the deep sleep you were in. She smirked to herself her plan working successfully.

She tip toed in, closing the door behind her and twisting the lock. She gave a wide grin at the sight in front of her, your tiny little fragile body laying there helplessly, your cute hello kitty shorts riding up your thighs, your white v-line top hugging your breast and waist perfectly, your soft mounds almost spilling out from the top.

See you begged her to do this! She undressed herself, dick finally getting freedom. Her aching tip that’s spilling precum and her length that is uncontrollably upward. She hissed in pain, her finger smearing the precum all over her cock.

She hovered over you, your plush thighs right below the head of her cock. She let her desires win, and thrusted her cock right between your pillowy thighs, a loud moan falling from her lips.

She continued the action, now grabbing the sides of your thighs to push them tighter against her aching dick. Lewd sounds coming from her lips, and the area of your inner thighs turning a pinkish color from her relentless thrust. She stopped quickly as soon as she felt her cum ready to spill from her tip. If she was going to cum, it will be inside your virgin cunt.

Your hello kitty shorts were now on the floor next to your white top. Your bare body under her mercy. Your nipples hardening at the sudden cold air, she swirled her tongue against one of them before moving to the other. Sucking you like a baby. She promised to herself that at the end of the night she will make sure that those plushy tits will be full of milk that she can suck.

Her angry red tip found its way to your swollen cunt, pushing its way past your folds. Your pussy swallowing her length and squeezing it. A groan left her lips, her head falling back at the sensation and her eyes giving a peek at her brain.

You let out a soft whimper that only made her dick twitch inside you, more precum gushing out. Even when you’re asleep you made the cutest sounds. Her tip pushed out of your cunt before slamming back in. She couldn’t contain herself and be gentle, the head of her cock meeting your opening with harsh thrust. She continued the abuse of her cock and the knot in her stomach started building up.

Her balls were slapping against your ass, begging to release. The idea of getting her sweet step-sissy pregnant with her child and forcing you to be stuck with her for the rest of your life, made her white thick liquid paint your walls full to the point that it spilled out with a mix of your blood.

She kissed the top of your head before whispering the dirtiest little things that she was going to do to you, her step sis that will be pregnant with her kid.🫣

[foxtrology]

it ain't me babe (prologue)

joel miller x reader

series

ao3 link

warnings: no y/n, age gap, female reader.

─────

Jackson, Wyoming — two months before Salt Lake City

Jackson slept beneath a blanket of snow, all hush and hush, the kind of silence that weighed heavy on the shoulders. The kind that made the wind sound louder, meaner. Chimney smoke rose from the rooftops, curling into the dark like ghosts with nowhere left to haunt. The gates were locked for the night, patrols had made their slow loops around the perimeter, rifles in hand, flashlights flickering. But in a place like this, survival didn’t stop when the sun went down.

It just got quieter.

Quieter didn’t mean safer.

Down near the stables, she walked with her hands buried deep in the pockets of her flannel, boots crunching over old ice patches. She didn’t take the main road. She never did. Too many eyes, too many “how’s your dad doing?”s and “still working the stables all by yourself?”s and she wasn’t in the mood.

She rarely was.

Willie padded alongside her, fur fluffed out against the cold. That dog was glued to her hip, ever since the day she found him half frozen in the remnants of a burnt out convenience store. Just skin, bone, and eyes too big for his skull. He’d growled at her once, weak and shaking, but let her pick him up anyway.

Now, he didn’t leave her side.

Not for patrols, not for chores, not for anything.

She lived with her dad in a small house a few blocks from the stables—ex-military officer, intense as hell but quieter now, like the war inside him had finally dulled to an ache. People in town knew who he was.

They respected him.

Trusted him.

Knew damn well the only reason he was even here was because of his daughter, the girl he taught to shoot before she lost her first tooth. The girl who now ran the stables by herself like it was nothing, like owning two dozen horses in a post apocalyptic commune was just another Tuesday.

She wasn’t wearing gloves tonight, even though her fingers were already red. Habit. She liked to feel things. Like the knife at her side, the one she kept holstered on her thigh no matter how many times someone from patrol told her it was “a little much.” Her dad had taught her that too—trust no one. And if you do trust them, be ready to kill them anyway.

That was when she heard the creak.

Faint. Soft. But wrong.

Willie stopped in his tracks. A low rumble in his throat.

Her body tensed. She pressed a hand to his coat. “Heel.” He froze, ears forward, waiting.

Good boy.

The stable doors weren’t latched all the way.

No one left her doors unlatched. She owned those horses.

Every one of them had a name, a history, a birthdate if she was lucky enough to know it.

They were her everything. In a world that ended, they kept her tethered to something real. So if someone was fucking around in her barn after hours, they better be ready to die for it.

She crept forward. Steps silent, practiced. One hand on her knife. Other pushing the door open just enough to slide in.

That’s when she saw him.

Back turned, dark coat, shoulders hunched as he fiddled with the reins of a bay mare near the last stall. He didn’t even hear her come in. Didn't hear her until she was right there—until the cold steel pressed flush against his neck.

“Move and I’ll open your goddamn throat,” she said, calm as ice.

The man froze. Slowly raised his hands.

And then he turned his head just enough for her to see his face.

Not familiar.

Not really.

But almost. People had been talking, whispering when they dropped off horses after patrol. Something about Tommy’s brother showing up.

Someone dangerous.

Someone quiet.

Someone who looked exactly like this.

“Put it down,” he said, low and gritted, like he was warning her. Not scared. Just...done. “Ain’t takin’ nothin’. Just needed a ride.”

Her grip didn’t falter.

“This is my stable,” she hissed. “My horses. My property. You don’t walk into my barn like it’s a fucking vending machine.”

“I didn’t know it was yours,” he bit out, still not turning around. “Didn’t matter whose it was. She was saddled. Figured someone wouldn’t miss her long.”

She stepped closer. Knife still pressed tight to his skin.

“She’s mine. They all are.”

Willie let out another soft growl, closer now, body tense at her side. The man glanced at the dog from the corner of his eye.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

She was sure if she motioned for Willy to attack, he would attack.

His tone shifted, sharp now. “You gonna stab me or what?”

“I might.”

“Then do it.”

For a second, just a beat, the cold in the air felt heavier. Time stilled. Just by glancing at the side of his face—whatever he’d been through, he was tired.

So tired.

Not afraid.

Just worn down to the marrow. Like he’d seen so many knives, one more didn’t mean a thing.

But she didn’t move. Not yet.

“What’s your name?” she asked, jaw clenching.

“Joel.”

And that... that was the name.

The one they’d been whispering about in town.

The one Tommy had seemed half proud, half pissed about.

The brother.

The one who left. The one who came back. And now here he was, standing in her stable, stealing her horse, and looking at her like she was the problem.

“You’re Joel,” she repeated flatly. “Tommy’s brother.”

He gave a slight nod.

She pulled the knife away from him, letting him go. But didn’t sheath it.

“You got a habit of stealing horses in the middle of the night?”

Joel shrugged. “Didn’t come here lookin’ to make friends.”

“No shit.”

She stepped back finally, eyes locked on him. Willie circled once, sniffing him like a TSA agent, before sitting down again at her side.

Joel adjusted his coat, fixing the strap on his shoulder. “You always this friendly to strangers?”

“I follow anyone acting shady as hell past curfew. You walked into my barn. I walked in behind you. That’s not unfriendly. That’s protective.”

He looked at her for the first time.

Really looked.

Something shifted in his eyes—nothing soft, nothing kind, but something curious.

Like maybe he hadn’t expected her to be this sharp.

This ready.

He didn’t say anything though. Just nodded once and started toward the exit like he didn’t just have a knife at his throat thirty seconds ago.

“You try to take one again,” she said, “I won’t hesitate.”

Joel paused. Glanced over his shoulder.

Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows like he’d never been there. Not a single response muttered.

She stood still for a moment, heart pounding in the silence, watching the door swing gently on its hinges.

Willie looked up at her.

“Yeah,” she muttered, sliding the knife back into its sheath. “What the fuck was that?”

She didn’t know it then—not fully. But that man, that stranger with blood in his eyes and death on his shoulders, was about to unravel everything she thought she knew about danger, trust, and the spaces in between.

And by the time he came back, two months later, everything would be different.

Everything.

[randomfoggytiger]

SEX, THE X-FILES WAY

(Excerpt from an in-coming post.)

It is a no-brainer to jump from Carter's wish for Scully to remain "separate" from the sexy, jump-in-bed-ers in the other tv shows of the 90s landscape-- @cecilysass wrote an excellent meta on the subject here-- and to expand that statement into a puritanical view of Scully's sexuality. But it's not, I believe, the complete picture.

Mulder was allowed to have sex with a woman in 3 during Scully's absence-- however, he was immediately "punished" for this transgression (losing the case and having to live with the guilt of not helping a like-minded lost soul.) But two important points remain: the sex was only allowed off-screen-- a principle Chris Carter stuck to-- and was part of a fraught, lonely relationship Mulder had with sex (Fire's Phoebe manipulating his emotions, Syzygy's Detective White tackling his body in fear of her life, Kill Switch's nurses manipulating his body for information, One Son Diana attempting to subdue his morals with easy seduction, First Person Shooter's Jade Afterglow trying to kill him in the climax, etc.) In short: Mulder was the Whore to Scully's Madonna, post here.

Although she is held to the same standard-- sex off-screen-- Scully is rewarded more often than Mulder: she has had at least two past relationships that were successful (Lazarus's Jack and Small Potatoes's Marcus), and was almost written with an on-going relationship in the Pilot. She desires a family and a sense of normalcy-- but not to the detriment of her career (e.g. The Jersey Devil and Home and A Christmas Carol); and her desires are rewarded with a miraculous pregnancy after Scully challenges her beliefs on her own terms (Amor Fati and all things.) In the end, she (theoretically) gets it all: a partner, a new baby, and a new beginning (that is, until Season 9.)

Tellingly, Scully's most fraught sexual experiences (Never Again and all things) were, in fact, derived from Gillian Anderson's input, not Chris Carter's.

If we set aside Ed Jerse and Daniel Waterston, Carter wrote her with two past successful relationships (Jack Willis and Ethan Minette) and okay-ed Vince Gilligan's high school boyfriend mention (Small Potatoes's Marcus.) When compared to Phoebe Green, Det. White, and Diana Fowley, a pattern emerges in her favor.

Even more pivotally: it's not sex that is punishing so much as who the characters have sex with. When Mulder has sex with women other than Scully, he is emotionally and physically neglected; and when Scully has sex with men other than Mulder, she is emotionally and professionally disrespected. That dynamic is sexist-- it's meant to be, a truthful depiction of the times: men's emotional needs trivialized and their desires reduced to sex; and women's capabilities and accomplishments minimized and their sexual freedom frowned upon. The show, however, takes it in a different direction, using the MSR dynamic to-- in a historically romantic sense-- liberate Mulder and Scully from those judgments. Mulder and Scully are unlucky in love unless they're together, two abnormal pegs trying to fit in square holes. Fated, in that mythological sense the show plays with, to be together. Cursed, in fantastical or folkloric tradition, when separated or apart. They are both rewarded when they come together: Mulder's closure and Scully's enlightenment; a miraculous pregnancy and a new way forward.

Even though Gillian fought to have an on-screen sex scene for her character, David also fought for Mulder's personal life outside of work ("The Official Guide to The X-Files", post here: When it’s pointed out that the show’s most fervent loyalists... have been especially vocal about not wanting to see Mulder and Scully romantically involved with anyone but each other, Duchovny simply shrugs and says the nuances he refers to don’t necessarily have to involved ‘romance’. “Give Mulder a friend. Give him a squash partner,” he suggests. “It’s got to happen. I really don’t care what anybody thinks we should or shouldn’t do.”) Neither were, of course, successful. And though he had the first (off-screen) sex scene in 3, David-- like Gillian-- was not satisfied with the result (and cringes over the sink-and-shave sequence to this day.)

Is it the best writing, all told? Perhaps not. The fact remains: Chris Carter has stated, multiple times, that he is not a fan of emotional exploration ("domesticity") and he does not want to focus on Mulder and Scully's personal lives, platonic or otherwise. Sex, then, is not a character beat so much as a tool: it must serve the story or narrative, or he won't bother to explore it. It must factor into an X-File (Gender Bender, 3, Never Again) or episode B plot (Requiem's reveal, Season 8's pregnancy arc, MSIV's second reveal), or mytharc throughline (e.g. Diana and Mulder's past, and Scully's pregnancy); or not at all.

Let me repeat: sex is not a revealing character beat to Chris Carter. It must contribute to the mytharc or monster-of-the-week, or it won't be included or touched on. At all. And through that lens, Mulder and Scully's romantic moments are merely another cog in the ever-spiraling hurtle forwards-- as far back as Tooms's stakeout admittance to Memento Mori's and Redux II's hospital confession to Fight the Future's hallway avowal. That is CC's modus operandi. That is his calling card: two characters always searching for something. That is Chris Carter's Code To Live By. As Chris Carter himself said, "It's sex, 'The X-Files' way!" (interview here.)

In this case: Mulder and Scully's desires are centered on work and family: Mulder's sister, Scully's sister; Scully healing by the UFO ship, Mulder dreaming of his son; Mulder and Scully finding wholeness in Season 7-- closure and enlightenment-- to build towards that elusive, happy ending in Season 8. However, as Frank Spotnitz put it, "You can't get the truth-- you can't"; and thus, Mulder and Scully's primary goal-- work (the slippery, dangerous "truth")-- will always, purports the show, consume their secondary goal-- family. So, Mulder suffers and is tormented in his quest; and Scully is hurt and tormented on her quest. Until, at last, both realize there is more to life than this; heal their broken pieces, and draw to each other more than the work-- colliding together and creating a family of their own. It is, admittedly, puddle-deep; but the simplest things in life are often the most memorable.

Had CC stuck the landing-- focused on character arcs and tied up loose ends-- it could have, possibly, succeeded. Instead, the execution was poor, and continues to be poor: what passes as a rushed happy end in Season 8 becomes trite and overdone when repeated, without nuance, aught years later. What was the culmination of the mytharc and Mulder and Scully's story ("planned" since the Pilot, posts here and here) becomes discordant and muddled, bent and confused.

[celestisdivinitusinsaniavero]

That one time you followed Butchers orders.

Billy Butcher x f!Reader TW: Oral (f!receiving), Unprotected (don't be Billy, wrap your willy), (soft) choking.

The safe house was a dingy, cramped room scattered with empty beer cans and overturned chairs. 

“I saved your life today,” you said while crossing your arms. 

Billy stood in the corner, his face contorted with anger as he yelled back: "And nearly getting yerself killed, eh? Clever move, that."

“Oh, as if you hadn’t done the same.”

“My clock is already ticking, luv,”

“You smug asshole!” 

Your voices echoed off the walls, each word sharper than the last as arguments turned to insults. Adrenaline pulsed through your veins, making your fists clench.

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, towering over you, his gaze boring into yours. His eyes seem to pierce through your soul, exposing you. "You don’t get to control me, Butcher," you snap, your chest heaving. “And if I want to save you, that is my choice.”

He retorts, his voice low and dangerous: “Someone’s got to keep you alive, luv.” A hint of softness in his voice catches you off guard. 

You shove his chest—not hard, but enough to challenge him. He grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, pulling you closer. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You're so close you can feel the heat radiating off him, his rough hands against your skin.

His eyes flicker to your lips, and you see the conflict in his face: anger and … heat. It's like a current passing between you two, electric and undeniable. Suddenly, his mouth is on yours, fierce and desperate.

The kiss is rough, teeth clashing, as though neither of you is willing to back down even in this. His hands slide to your waist, tugging you closer, and the fight melts into something raw and consuming. You can taste the intensity of his emotions on his lips; it’s a heady mix of anger, desperation, and something far more dangerous.

Your fingers twist in his unkempt beard, pulling him toward you as you stumble back against a table. He immediately lifts you on top of it. The rough stubble grazes your skin as he ravages your mouth with fervor. "You drive me bloody insane," he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and hoarse. It’s a confession that leaves you shuddering against him.

His hands trail over your body, rough and deliberate, as he watches your every reaction with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. You can feel the desire pulsing through him like a living thing; it’s intoxicating. He hesitates for a moment as he reaches your waistband with shaky hands before tugging it down at your nod of consent.

As he rips the pants from your trembling body, he exposes your bare, quivering legs. With hunger in his eyes, he buries his face between your legs and inhales deeply. "Bloody hell, woman," he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

He teases you mercilessly at first, running his tongue just along your inner thighs, sending shivers down your spine. With one skillful motion, he guides your underwear from your hips along your legs, and the moment the piece of fabric is free, he puts it in the pocket of his coat.

“Really?” you ask as he grins mischievously. 

“Oi, I’ll need something to wank to when you get yourself croaked.”

You roll your eyes and try to pull him upwards, but he firmly holds your hips in place. He's teaching you who's in control now, and it's not you. 

His tongue grazes your most sensitive spot, and you gasp, arching into him. Billy growls against you, the vibrations intensifying every sensation. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he works you expertly, alternating between teasing licks and firm pressure. 

The tension builds rapidly, your breath coming in sharp pants. Just as you're teetering on the edge, Billy pulls back, leaving you aching and frustrated. He smirks up at you, eyes dark with lust. "Not yet, luv," he says gruffly. 

You whimper in frustration, your body trembling with need. Billy stands, his hands sliding up your thighs as he positions himself between your legs. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "I wanna 'ear ya beg for it, luv," he growls.

Pride wars with desire inside you. You want him—God, do you want him—but you're not one to beg. You meet his gaze defiantly, your chest heaving. "Make me," you challenge.

A wicked grin spreads across his face. "Oh, I intend to."

His fingers ghost along your inner thighs, teasing but never quite touching where you need him most. You squirm, trying to increase the contact, but he holds you firmly in place. 

"Patience, luv," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

His lips trail down your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp nips that make you gasp. Your hands roam over his broad shoulders, feeling the taut muscles beneath his coat. You tug at the fabric impatiently.

"Off," you demand, voice husky with desire.

Billy chuckles darkly. "Givin’ up so easy, luv?"

You glare at him. "That wasn't begging. That was an order."

"Is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, too bad I’ve never been good at following orders."

One hand grips your throat; the other pushes two fingers roughly inside your soaking-wet pussy. 

Your breath catches as his fingers curl inside you, stroking that perfect spot. The pressure on your throat intensifies slightly, just enough to make your head swim. Billy's eyes are locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand. 

He grins wickedly. "That's the idea, luv. But not until you beg for it."

His thumb circles your clit as his fingers continue their relentless assault. You're trembling, so close to the edge but not quite there. Billy leans in, his beard scratching deliciously against your neck as he whispers in your ear.

"Come on. Let me hear those pretty words."

You bite your lip, still fighting against the urge. But you can't hold back as he curls his fingers just right.

"Please," you gasp out, your resolve finally crumbling under the onslaught of pleasure. "Please, Billy. I need you."

A triumphant grin spreads across his face. "There's a good girl," he purrs, his fingers still working you mercilessly. "Tell me what ya need."

"You," you moan, past caring about pride or dignity. "I need you inside me. Now."

Billy growls, a sound of pure, animalistic hunger. In one swift motion, he withdraws his fingers and opens his zipper. While positioning himself directly in front of your aching core with one hand, he brings the one covered in your juices to his face. You cry out as he enters you, the stretch delicious and overwhelming, as he licks your taste from his fingers. He slides inch by torturous inch inside of you, stretching you to your limits. Your nails dig into the table as he fills you, every cell in your body screaming for more.

He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust. "Fuck, luv," he groans.

Then, he starts to move, and coherent thought becomes impossible. 

His thrusts are deep and forceful, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, desperate for more friction. Billy's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, using the leverage to drive into you even deeper.

"Bloody hell," he grunts, his face contorted with pleasure. "You feel so good, luv."

You can only moan in response, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. The table creaks beneath you with each powerful thrust, the sound mixing with your gasps and Billy's low groans.

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging sharply. He growls into your mouth, the vibrations adding to the onslaught of emotions.

"That's it," he pants against your lips. "Take it all.”

You're lost in a haze of sensation, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. Billy's lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You know you'll be covered in marks tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Look at me," he growls, his voice rough with desire. You force your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze.

"What a good girl," he murmurs, never breaking eye contact. “Now come for me, Luv."

His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it roughly. The added stimulation is too much, and you shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your walls clench around him, and Billy curses, his rhythm faltering as he chases his release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he comes.

You both stay frozen for a moment, panting heavily as the aftershocks ripple through your bodies. Billy's forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your face. Slowly, the world comes back into focus - the dingy safehouse, the overturned chairs, the lingering tension in the air.

Billy pulls away first, his expression unreadable as he tucks himself back into his pants. You slide off the table on shaky legs, wincing slightly at the soreness. An awkward silence descends as you straighten your clothes, neither quite sure what to say.

"So," Billy finally breaks the silence, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "… you can actually follow orders, eh?”

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a small smile. "Don't get used to it, Butcher. This was a one-time thing."

His eyebrow quirks up. "That so?" He steps closer, his hand coming to rest on your hip. "Cause I reckon we've got some unfinished business, you and me."

Your breath catches as he leans in, his lips barely brushing your ear. "Next time," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "I won't go so easy on ya."

[multiheadcanons]

THE MERCS ACTUALLY WOULD WISH THAT ON THEIR WORST ENEMY

aka: request— the mercs receive an invitiation to their enemy’s funeral

scout: he wakes up one day and checks the mail. didn’t know why he thought to do that today, but it was a good thing. somethings in there for him. from his cousin, no less. weird. he opens it, and sees card stock saying “gather in remembrance for Matthew Hunter Crowsman” matthew…. matthew. that son of a bitch is dead? he is off to a phone. to any phone. begging snipes to take him to the payphone. uses the “i gotta call my ma” excuse because it always works on snipes. when he gets to a phone and makes the call, the second he hears that muffled “hello?” of his cousin through the static he is cackling. “who got the bastard? who ordered the hit??” “oh, you finally get that card i sent ya, jerry?” “received it, read it, laughed. who ordered the hit?” “ma got sick of his shit, man. asked me about a month back, at this point. they found him a couple weeks ago. construction dug the body up.” “you need to dig deeper graves. hey, i know a lady down here, she’s damn good at disposal—” he doesn’t end up going, but he’ll send flowers for the next of kin. matthew hunter crowsman has lived rent free in jeremy willis’ mind since the fourth grade when he killed the goldfish his dad got him at show and tell. it was the only thing he had of the man. well now the fuckers dead. dead by his family’s hands. and he didn’t even have to do it. it’s nice to have a big family sometimes.

soldier: soldier had one woman who could be considered his nemesis, and he found out she died through the obituaries. it was this crotchety old bitch he ran into at the grocery store. she took his favorite box of cereal, the last box of his favorite box of cereal in the only store in town, directly out of his cart. he was not invited to the wake and showed up anyway. looking nice and societally acceptable in his military blues, most family of the deceased asked his relation to the woman. he said he was an enemy. and he’s happy she’s dead. they end up getting him up there for the eulogy. he looks very nice behind a podium, even if he is ranting about a dead woman’s sticky fingers.

pyro: pyro doesn’t have enemies, they don’t know enough people to genuinely not like anyone. but pyro does love a funeral. just shows up to funerals to watch people cry. it’s like a touching film for them. the display of grief born from so much love, so much love never to be seen or felt again… it brings a tear to their eyes. but when that nasty french cigarette addict dies they’re gonna be front row to slam dunk the body into a two foot hole. it’ll be a party for pyro at spy’s funeral.

demo: demo also doesn’t have many enemies. and the enemies he does have at this point are in different continents. and he’s pretty sure they don’t think about him as much as he thinks about them. but he does keep an eye on the obituaries in case he needs to update his shit list and remove those who he outlived. he won those, by the way. those are considered wins in his book. if he outlives you he wins. he’ll send flowers to the next of kin of the first ten on the list. superiority rule and all.

heavy: heavy doesn’t need to go to the funeral! he’s there when they die! he has not had a mortal nemesis he didn’t kill with his bare hands. it’s somewhat sad, as he ponders that more, but it’s the way his life turned out. and he’s okay with that much. he knows some people wish they could say that one day, if at all. he’ll pay a moment’s worth of respect. then he’s moving on. might even be in a bit of a better mood on the outside! it’s a good day when enemies die. it’s one less worry off his plate. he even moves lighter. quicker on his feet. yes, it’s always a good day when an enemy dies.

engineer: engie wants to state for the record that he was a kid. and what happened that day was legally ruled an accident. but engie was never a big kid. he was on the chubby side, but he was never big enough to really hold his own against anyone who would find themselves in the position of being a bully against a conagher kid. and engie’s always had issues with keeping his hands to himself. it took a lot of work to not grow up to be that man. but there was this one kid. james. he wouldn’t leave him alone, and always managed to catch him alone, or off guard. and one day, he just got sick of it. nobody was looking at what was going on on the road. dell just shoved him. he didn’t see the car. the kid died from his injuries a couple days later. and he did go to the funeral. he genuinely didn’t mean to do it. he liked the feeling of satisfaction he got when they told him he was dead though. that made him feel real good. so now he just makes sure the body can’t be found. easier that way for everyone involved.

medic: the doctor had an academic rival. insanely intelligent, incredibly ugly, and much nicer than the doctor. everyone loved this guy. loved him a lot more than they liked herbert. but this guy was a fraud. nobody’s able to prove it, even to this day, that the man is a fraud. there are no controversies, no conflicting scientific research, the man’s got a squeaky clean record; but medic knows in his heart of hearts and his soul of souls that the dude was and still is a fraud and a liar. it wasn’t like the guy was doing groundbreaking research here, either. who cares about cancer treatment? but he was so beloved. so the joy, the cathartic sigh of satisfaction he let out the day he read the obituaries and saw he died from a hit and run… he thanked whatever god was there. and he did go to the funeral. told the team they were going to be down a doctor and dipped. he arrived drunk in his best black. sat in the back and smoked a cigarette. didn’t make a noise. just watched all of these people mourn him. then spit on his grave as they carried it towards his resting place and left. he claims it was the happiest day of his life.

sniper: sniper doesn’t have enemies like that. nor would he go if that was something offered to him. you probably would’ve already lost him at the mere mention of the name. if you insist on telling him someone he doesn’t like is dead, he’s going to respond “oh. that’s... okay then—” and then he will exit the conversation. might chuckle to himself when he’s alone, maybe even shake his head, but after that he’s done. back to business. he does not think about the people he doesn’t like. that’s a waste of mental effort.

spy: spy does a weekly check of the obituaries just in case he sees a name he may recognize. sometimes he does; but he remembers he’s reading the obituaries. and he continues.

[aphroditeinthesea]

will solace x chaotic daughter of dionysus reader where he's the responsible one thats like "don't do that. you'll die" and reader's like "yeah whatever" ?

" long story short i survived "

will solace x reader ☀️

three times when y/n was crazy and three times when will loved her anyway

tw none

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Funny meeting you here,” was all Will heard as he walked past a room in the infirmary. He stopped in his tracks and peered into the room. There, lying on a bed, was his girlfriend.

“Y/N,” he spoke as he entered the room, “what happened?” Concern filled his voice, but at the same time, he couldn't be too worried. After all, her winding up in the infirmary was a common occurrence.

“Silly story actually, you're gonna laugh,” she prefaced, “so, you know how there’s like archery practice?”

He nodded along, “I pretty much know the concept.”

“Good, that's good,” she continued, “so there was this really crazy looking bug like you should've seen it, and then-”

“Please don't say what I think you're about to say.”

She aggressively nodded, “if you think I’m about to say that I accidentally walked into the middle of an archery practice and got shot in the foot, then I’ll just say quiet.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “can you go one day without almost dying?”

“Is that rhetorical? Because I don't appreciate that, Will Solace.”

He laughed, he leaned closer to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I’d just like to not be worried about you 25/8.”

“Twenty-five eight, really?”

“Will!” Someone yelled from the hall.

“Coming!” He called back before turning back to the girl, “I love you, don't die,” he quickly kissed her before rushing out of the room.

It was late at night, not even two days later, that y/n ran into cabin seven, slamming the door behind her. Several of Apollo’s children gave her strange looks, except for Will, who only looked confused.

“Y/N?”

She smiled, making her way over to him, “Willy!”

“Willy?” He questioned with a laugh.

She sat on his freshly made bed, “I need to stay in your cabin tonight.”

“As fun as getting in trouble for you sounds,” he began, sitting beside her, “can you at least tell me why?”

“Funny story-”

“Is it actually though?”

She bit her lip and looked away, “for spectators, not victims,” she answered, “basically, Annabeth let me borrow this book and I forgot about it and then I accidentally spilled orange juice all over it, so I left iron the doorstep of the Athena cabin and I’m gonna wait until she notices, where then she will ultimately try to kill me dead.”

“Rather than kill you alive?” One of his siblings interjected.

“Kill you alive blah blah,” y/n muttered in a mocking voice.

Will chuckled, placing a comforting hand on her back, “you can stay. Only because I’m also scared of Annabeth.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips, "you're the best.”

Another day, during Capture the Flag, y/n had decided to climb a tree, being too tired to actually participate in the game. However, she hadn't actually put into consideration how she was going to get down.

“Y/N?” she heard the all too familiar voice from the ground.

She looked down to find Will standing with his sister, Kayla. “Hey, sweetheart. Hi, Kayla,” she waved down.

“What are you doing?” Kayla called up.

“It’s a funny story actually-”

“I really don’t think it’s gonna be,” Will mentioned.

Y/N huffed, “I’m about to come down, one second,” she stood on the branch, about to jump down.

“Y/N, Baby,” He yelled, “as a doctor, I can tell you the chances of you not breaking a bone are close to none.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”

“That actually makes it worse, y/n.”

She prepared herself to jump down despite the yell of the two children of Apollo and several other campers who had come over to watch the spectacle. She took a deep breath and leaped off of the branch.

You could think that this was one of those things where she jumped and landed in Will’s arms and like rode into the sunset or whatever. It kinda was like that actually, except might have landed on Will’s arm instead. The left one specifically.

“I guess you could say you fell for me,” she giggled, beginning to stand up. She grabbed his hand to help him up too.

“I’m actually surprised we’re both still alive.”

“I told you it would be fine, you worry too much, love.”

[not-handsome-enough]

FLASH AND GLITCH WARNING it’s not bad by mtl standards but it hurt the hell out of my eyes when I was working on it 😭😭

There more explanation under the cut cause there’s some explaining to do.

t

So this is set Post AOTD and the only parts of Dick that survived are his brain and heart. His parts are discovered by Charles when he went back to Deus Keeps remains to scavenge amongst the og Army for an intact left hand that he would transplant, as well as searching for survivors in general. ( something to note is he doesn’t find a replacement and he ends up having it replaced with a golden prosthetic )

He secretly brings Dick’s remains back to Mordhaus where he begins a project to slowly regenerate Dick’s body. He doesn’t tell anyone outside of a select few klokateers and the scientists ( Brian and Jimmy ) mostly due to how unstable the execution may be. Kind of like a don’t get the boys excited cause if it doesn’t work it will be just another downer/uncertainty that they don’t need right now.

I don’t know if Charles is employed with Dethklok or if he’s there for the sake of normality. Either way the boys want him there and he wants to be with the boys.

William finds the operation by accident. He kinda went back to how he was pre-mtl albeit a bit more open with his emotions. There are periods where Dick is left alone and Willy finds him during one of those periods. By the time he finds Dick it’s been a few months since Charles has brought him back to Mordhaus, so while his body isn’t ‘online’ yet, his brain heart and eyes are.

This is kinda how Willy first finds Knubbler. He recognizes the eyes ( which aren’t meant to be yellow like they are in the image above this was made before I had a concrete timeline set up ) so he talks his way into staying as long possible without being caught. They managed to set up a basic communication system with Dick’s eyes ( like yes no maybe but with eye colour ) and that’s how Willy knows he’s not supposed to know about the project. For the first few visits it’s just Willy apologizing to Dick for killing him and just getting out everything he wanted to say and apologize for. Similar to Nate and Rebecca but Dick can yk. Talk back. To an extent.

Cause while physically Dick is in the tube his soul is free to roam around the room. So while Willy’s talking to his eyes Dick’s walking around and just making faces at him and shit.

( I don’t like the colour I went for the ghost mode for him here but idk how to do ghost so best I got I’m sorry 😭 )

Initially it was just really emotion heavy and Dick wanted to be able to hold a full on conversation with Willy about the events of the Mtl but then Willy started bringing entertainment down to the lab and it spiraled a little.

Eventually Willy mentioned how upset he was that he didn’t finish planet piss and it turned into a month and a half of planet piss production ( nothing was recorded and sessions usually ended in a Willy typical tantrum and a promise of coming back tomorrow )

Despite how much these sessions pissed off Dick, his recovery ended up speeding up quite a bit, much to the delight of Charles The Scientists and the select Klokateers. Who still don’t know about the daily visits. Whether or not it was motivation to actually talk back to Willy and shut down his more destructive ideas or to be able to help him I don’t know.

At some point during the PP production Willy starts bringing board games like scrabble and battleship. Shit that made it easy for both of them to cheat. Which they ended up doing. Every. Single. Time. It’s impressive how neither of them caught on to the other cheating. Actually it’s more impressive Dick never caught Willy cheating since Willy was usually in control of Dick’s moves.

While this is happening Dicks body continues to reconstruct itself and eventually it becomes basically back to normal except in its green gooey goop ness ( the animation is like a sped up version of what happened )

( Again his eyes are not meant to be yellow I made this before I had the timeline set )

Dick, realizing that his body is basically reconstructed, starts trying to make his physical body move / tries to reconnect his soul ghost to his body. Unknown to him by rushing the process he glitches his eyes out.

So while he thinks he’s moving his Body he’s actually moving the Wires around his tube.

He practices while Willy is gone because he wants to be able to surprise him / scare the shit out of him a little bit, but this ends up being a detriment to him because when he finally does move in front of Willy it is not his body that is moving. Most of the time if he’s practicing he’s working with The Scientists and Charles

This is where that rough animatic at the top comes in so we know that Willy freaks the fuck out, runs away, and Dick is upset. Gonna jump a lil more into that tho.

So some things to explain / note in the animatic that I just didn’t explain well.

To show that Dick was glitching while moving his eyes turn yellow. The Scientists and Charles know about this, but before trying to move for Will, they never caught that what Dick was actually moving was the wires around the tube and not his body.

Willy was not scared that Dick was moving. If it was just dicks body or even just the wires he would have freaked out a little but wouldn’t have run away. He ran away because Dicks eyes were yelllow. Like he was possessed.

This is basically what was happening

Dick never punched his way out of the tube or talked to Willy.

That being said the flashing alarm was set off by Willy. He knew that the science gang would come if he sounded the alarm. He didn’t get caught by them but he saw that they weren’t panicking like he was.

Dick had no idea why Will ran away that badly until after the science boys came in and his body was unglitched ( which is why his eyes turn green at the end of the animatic ). He thinks Willy ran away because of the wires, not his glitchy eyes.

Also small note the scientists are there when they run in I just didn’t want to draw them because I watched the liquid album episode and they annoyed me a little bit I’m sorry.

Dick’s in the tube for about another month ( where he can control his body ) but Willy doesn’t come back to see him until a week before he is taken out of the tube. They end up having a repeat of the initial cycle ( apologies planet piss and then board games ) but sped up and a little differently. Apologies only last a day, planet piss lasts an hour because Dick is not about to repeat that whole ordeal again without having his equipment around, and the board games last for the rest of the week until Dick is transferred to a private hospital room. Dick ends up actually making sure Will doesn’t cheat and they get really competitive.

Willy doesn’t know where Dicks transferred to and Dick is once again bored out of his fucking mind.

They reunite again eventually but I’m leaving that up to interpretation cause cycles need to break eventually.

I didn’t go into detail about what their talks were day by day because I cannot write dialogue well which means this can be interpreted as Platonic OR Romantic. This au was written with the intention of being romantic ( doomed in original versions ) angst but it’s vague enough where it could be platonic and either way I’m happy.

[elektramustdie]

take it

WARNINGS - daddy kink ??? unprotected sex ( don’t be silly wrap that willy ) dacryphila?? rough sex. brendon urie mentioned.

You were at the underground a bar, watching your boyfriend Mikey perform. You sat alone at the bar, sipping on something sweet and fizzy the bartender made you, on the house. 

Someone approached you, introducing himself as Brendon, He didn't leave when you mentioned you had a boyfriend, but he didn't make any moves on you either, he was just speaking to you, so you didn't feel concerned about it.

The only rule you and Mikey had about hanging out with other people is as long as they're not into you, it's totally fine. Because usually, Mikey is a pretty level headed guy, especially when it comes to you. He loves you, and trusts that you love him, and only him.

However, there are a few people that push Mikey’s buttons just by existing. You knew about Ryan Ross  but who you didn't know about was Brendon Urie lead singer of Panic! at the disco another band that frequents gigs at The Underground. And an pain in Mikey’s ass.

And now, he was leaning against the bar talking to you while Mikey played the rest of his show.

And Mikey was getting pissed off.

He didn't like the idea of this guy talking to you, but what he really hated was that this guy was using you to get a rise out of him, and worse yet, it was fucking working. Mikey’s neck was getting hot, and he'd long lost his usual grin. Instead, it was replaced with a tight scowl, a really annoyed grimace that probably would've signalled something was wrong if you would just look at Mikey.

But no, you were talking with Brendon, sipping on your drink. He could tell from there that you weren't doing anything wrong at all. You saw the best in people, and if you had said you weren't interested, you would trust the other person to take that as an answer. But Mikey knew better. Mikey knew that Brendon wasn't just trying to make a new friend, he was trying to ruin Mikey’s night.

By the time you realized you were in trouble, it was far too late. Mikey had already decided that you needed to be taught a lesson.

And once you're in hell, only the devil can get you out.

You noticed Mikey’s grimace, and put two and two together when you saw your new friend waving at Mikey, smug smile on his face. 

"Do you know Mikes?" you asked, growing suspicious. 

"Oh yeah," he said, making sure Mikey was looking at him before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "We go way back."

You reacted quickly, getting out of your chair and smacking that guys hand away from you. You were clearly telling him off, but Mikey just wished you would get away from that guy.

Mikey, still not angry with you, was fuming. Brendon had touched you. He touched you without your permission, and you felt uncomfortable, Mikey could see that. The music turned aggressive, and his bandmates could see the scene unfolding in front of them, and they didn't know what was going to happen.

After cutting the song short, Gerard announced their set was over. 

The band looked at each other questioningly, as there was still supposed to be another few songs, but they wrapped up anyway, unplugging their instruments and beginning to disassemble. Mikey threw the van keys to Frank, and didn't say a word as he rushed over to 'save' you.

You met Mikey halfway, trying to assure him that you didn't do anything. Brendon was behind you smirking at the damage he'd done to Mikey’s mood. 

"Baby," he cooed, rubbing your arms. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at him." Mikey nodded over to Brendon, and followed up by flipping him off. "Go over with Gerard, okay? I wouldn't trust this guy near your drink." Mikey plucked the beverage out of your hands, and while he doubted that Brendon did anything to it, he just wasn't willing to risk it. 

Mikey stormed over to Brendon, and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. 

"If you ever lay your hands on her again, I will kill you. Do you understand that? I will killyou."

"Death threats? Mikey, don't you think you're being a little dramatic? She was totally into it."

"If you interpret recoiling as into it, you're a predator." Mikey had to get out of here before he did something he would regret. Before he got the band barred from the only place they could find to play. "Stay away from us."

"Whatever, nerd."

Mikey let go of Brendon’s shirt, turning on his heel and focusing on just getting back to you and calming down. Was he mad? Jealous? Pissed off? Yes, yes, and yes.

"Mikey?" you asked, as he approached you, but he didn't answer, just grabbed your hand and pulled you close, closing the gap between you and laying a big, fat kiss on you in front of everyone. You melted into him, not really caring who saw. Mikey loved pda, always had, loved showing everyone that you were his, and he was yours. 

His hands wrapped around your waist, holding you as he leaned into you, bending your back and forcing your chest into his. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, taking in the intoxicating smell of him. Mikey, sweat covered and sexy.

"Mikes," you mumbled against his mouth, "let's pack up and just get out of here," you said, pulling away from him finally.

"Yeah," he agreed, "good idea." 

And you could see the fire in his eyes. You could feel the way he tried to push into you. You were in trouble, but you weren't scared, you were excited.

"Are you ready to help us pack up?" Ray asked, "or would you just like us to watch you make out some more."

"No one was forcing you to watch," Mikey said, his tone level and casual. None of his usual joking manner. "I'll bring the van around."

Mikey pulled you behind him. He wouldn't be letting you alone with that guy fucking lurking around. You were guided out the back door, and through the dark parking lot behind the bar. Mikey always parked in the same corner, far enough away from the door where he could secure a quick deal or two during his shows.

Even through the rage, you thought he was being a perfect gentleman by opening the passenger side door for you, but you should've known better. In this mood, you should've expected him to be dirty, dirty, dirty...

When you moved to get in, he pushed you down, bending you over the seat. With your ass in the air, he lifted your skirt and pulled your panties down to your knees, immediately smacking your ass three fast times. It stung, the sudden intrusion of pain was a delightful surprise. He groped your ass for a second, mumbling something about it being his. 

"I fucking love this ass," he muttered, sliding his fingers down through your already soaking wet folds. "And this pussy."

Two rough fingers found your clit, rubbing small, quick circles around the little bud. 

"I need to get you home," he said, plunging those fingers inside you. "Like, right now."

"We should h-help pack up," you said, only to be met with another smack on your ass from his free hand. He wasn't holding you down, you could've easily asked him to stop and he would've. But you didn't want to. And he knew that.

"Just need a minute," he said, falling to his knees. The concret scraped his knees, but he didn't care. He needed this to calm down. Then he could go pack up and get you home and deal with the rest of his frustrations. "Jus' a little taste," he whispered, leaning forward and diving into your pussy like it was the cure to all his problems. Which it kind of was, honestly. 

One hand was gripping your thigh, right where it met your ass, holding it open so he could lick, and suck and just taste you. The other hand, slid around you to rub slow circles on your clit again, but not enough to get you off. He didn't want to overwhelm you already, and he definitely didn't want you to cum yet.

“mikey," you moaned, biting your hand to keep quiet. "They're waiting for us."

"Don't care," he mumbled, continuing to eat you out, right there in the parking lot. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done something here in the parking lot, but it was the first time where you weren't hidden inside the van. 

"Mikey," you moaned, as he licked up your slit and dipped into your tight little hole with his tongue, before pulling away entirely, letting the cool breeze blow across your wet centre, and you whined, wishing he would continue. He laughed, leaving your clit behind to grip both your ass cheeks in his calloused hands, the rough fingers felt amazing against your soft skin. He bit one of your ass cheeks, and kissed the other. And then slapped both at the same time. 

And you got ready for him to fuck you. But instead he tucked his erection into the band of his jeans, and pulled your panties back up. He fixed your skirt, and then guided you to sit in the van.

"You're so good," he mused, his bad mood already lessening. "So beautiful."

You blushed, suddenly bashful about what he'd done.

"Now let's get the fuck out of here," he said, closing the passenger door and rushing around to the front. He drove to the otherside of the lot, completely unfazed by his voyeuristic tendencies. 

The guys were already moving stuff outside, and leaving it by the backdoor.

"We were afraid to come over there," Frank joked, loading stuff into the back. He found it even funnier when he caught the blush creeping over your neck and cheeks. He didn't say anything else about it. But he knew that there was some truth to it all.

"Just hurry up," Mikey said, impatience catching up with him. "I'm in a bad mood, I just fucking hate that guy."

"Yeah, that guy is a dick." Gerard shook his head. "But it's not like she would've let him do anything."

"Obviously," he muttered, and closed the back of the door. "It pisses me off that he would even try to use her like that though, like she's less of a person. It's just, it's gross."

"It is gross," he agreed. "Well, we're out of here. I think we will catch a ride with Ray. You seem, uh... busy."

"I think that's for the best."

The drive home was silent, except for the radio playing quietly between you. Mikey’s hand gripped your thigh, tightly, possessively. He was thinking of all the ways he was going to fuck you. All the ways he was going to make you cum. All over his face, his cock, his fingers. He couldn't think about anything else. He loathed the idea that Brendon probably thought he could get with you. It made it him fucking furious. The more he stewed about it, the more angry he got. 

It was time to remind you that there was no one on Earth that could fuck you like he can. 

He trusted you fully, but he was going to remind you anyway.

"Mikey?" you asked, "Are you sure you're not mad at me?"

"I'm sure, my love." He traded his grip on your thigh for your hand, which he brought to his lips to place several chaste kisses to your knuckles. It was sweet how much you cared about his feelings, and boundaries. "I just need to make sure you're properly fucked. I've been fucking you softly lately, and I love that," he smiled, and you were blushing, the topic of conversation making you bashful, "but it's time for Daddy to really fuck your brains out."

"Mikey!" 

"Time to make my princess cum again and again," he continued, "until you're screaming and begging me to stop." He continued to kiss your hand as he spoke, "but you won't want me to stop, not really."

"Don't be dirty," you whispered, shy about the way he was speaking to you. But you loved it. You were soaking wet, clenching your thighs together, thinking about all the ways Mikey would have you. All the ways you would totally and fully give yourself to him.

“Oh baby," he cooed, "tonight we will be filthy, and I think," he let go of your hand, "I'll start now."

And with that he slipped his hand between your thighs, pushing them open. He wasted no time in grabbing your panties, yanking them over to the side and slipping his fingers between your folds. 

“So fucking wet," he moaned, slipping a finger inside you, "and so fucking tight." He groaned, taking the finger out and popping it into his mouth. "And sweet." 

You were breathing heavily, so turned on by how Mikey was acting. He'd dominated you before, but this was different. Like he was trying to prove something. He was trying to prove to himself that he was the right one for you, that he was the one you wanted and needed. 

"I want you to be good for me tonight," he said, moving back between your legs and fingering you again. This time with two thick fingers, and his thumb on your clit. He knew everything by feel, his eyes never left the road. He knew where to touch, and what to do to please you. "Just do what I say and you'll be rewarded."

"Okay," you whispered, speechless at what was going on. You pulled your knee up onto the passenger side door to give him more access to you. To let him in deeper.

“Good girl," he cooed, "off to a good start."

He removed his hand again, and you whined at the loss of contact, but he shut you up by sticking his fingers into your mouth. "Taste that, honey? It's my favourite thing in the world." He kept his fingers in your mouth for a moment, until he felt your tongue swirl around the digits. "You're gunna suck my cock as soon as we get inside your house, and you're not gunna stop until I tell you to stop."

You nodded, and he pulled his fingers out, returning to gripping your thigh like at the start. You were throbbing, thinking 'please touch me again,' over and over and over in your head until you were sure he knew what you were thinking, because his smug smirk returned. 

"Look at you, fucking begging for it, looking at me like that isn't gunna be enough, doll. You're not calling the shots tonight."

“Can I suck your cock now?" you asked, and he smiled.

"No," he said. "Keep your hands to yourself."

And suddenly your hands were magnets, and he was what they were attracted to. You wanted to touch him, to play with his hair, or his jacket. Touch his thighs, or any piece of exposed skin you could find. You needed him. You wanted him to be inside you, anyway possible. The lay restlessly on your lap, just keening to touch him.

You clenched your thighs together again, and Mikey tutted at you. "Don't do that, your pleasure is all for me tonight."

"Mikey..." you whined, hiking your leg up higher, trying to entice him to return to his work between your legs. But he didn't budge, just smirked as you whined and writhed in his passenger seat. He loved it like this, he liked how fucking feral you got for him. 

And he especially loved how smug it made him when one of the guys sat in that seat, knowing all the dirty things he'd done to you in this van. 

He killed the engine, parking crooked in your driveway. No one was home, it was a recipe for a perfect night. 

"Don't even have to be quiet," he mused, "you're really in for it, pretty girl."

And you were quick to exit the van, and excitedly head into the house. You were only a few steps in, leaning on the wall and trying to kick your shoes off when Mikey slammed the front door, grabbing your hand and turning you back around to him.

“I said 'as soon as we get inside'," and he pulled you down until you feel on your knees. "I didn't say take anything off." 

He pushed your face into his bulge, the jean rubbing against your cheek, and the zipper cold on your nose. 

You undid his belt above you, fumbling because you couldn't really see it. You pulled it through the loops, and he grabbed it from you before you could discard it.

"Take my pants off," he muttered, letting go of your hair. And you obeyed, tongue tied and soaking wet. Throbbing in your panties. Mikey had never been like this. And you wanted more. You wanted more than you knew.

While you worked on his jeans, he wrapped the belt around your neck. Not to choke you, but to hold it there, as if it was a promise. A promise to keep you in line. You sucked your lip into your mouth, salivating at the sight of his dick springing to life, free from the confines of his ripped jeans. His sexy, sexy ripped jeans. 

You started teasingly, licking the underside of his dick slowly, but he yanked the belt, causing it to tighten ever so slightly. "I said, suck my dick!" he raised his voice, annoyed that he had to repeat himself a third time. 

You whimpered, putting the tip in your mouth, and he thrusted into your mouth, forcing himself into your throat as you choked and gagged. 

"If you want to stop at any point just tap twice or say red," he said, a softer tone taking over for a moment, he pulled back a bit, making you look up at him, "tap twice now if you understand."

You tapped his leg twice, and then you gagged on his dick as he thrusted it down your throat again. "Good girl," he muttered, dick twitching at the view he had. Belt wrapped around your throat like a leash, tears filling your eyes and his dick hit the back of your throat. You didn't even have to move, because Mikey couldn't control himself from grabbing your hair, and guiding you to suck his dick exactly how he wanted it.

Mikey was fucking your face, a foot from the front door. If anyone came onto the porch they'd hear the wet squelching of Mikey thrusting into your mouth, or the coughing caused by the intrusion. 

"That's fucking unreal, princess," he muttered, throwing his head back and his continued gripping your hair by the roots, moving your head up and down on his thick cock. "You take daddy so well."

Your hands gripped his thighs, trying to ignore the painful throbbing of your ignored pussy, while Mikey takes his pleasure. "You look so pretty like this," he said, returning his attention to you. Tears made their escape down your cheeks, dragging your mascara with them. 

He gave the belt some slack, and you backed off of him, sucking in a few big gulps of air. 

"I didn't know you could take it so good, baby," he cooed, "Daddy's good little slut."

You nodded eagerly, not sure if you were allowed to talk or not. You leaned forward to take him back in your mouth, doing everything you had been before, but without Mikey’s guiding hand, you did it yourself, shoving his cock to the back of your throat where you coughed and gagged around him. 

His groans were delightful. Mikey moans were music, filling you up with pride and desire. You pulled away again for some more air, and he looked at you with a devilish smirk.

"Come up here," he said, yanking on the belt, forcing you back to your feet.

The belt dangled when he let it go, and he just looked at you for a second. Your hair was messy, cheeks covered in wet makeup, puffy lips, belt hanging loosely around your neck, and glossy eyes that made Mikey swoon, for just a moment. And then he smirked, rubbing his thumbs across your cheek, trying to remove some of the mascara, but he just smudged it more. He smiled.

"Did you like that?" he asked, wanting to make sure you were liking this otherside of him. You nodded. "Why don't you bend over that couch over there? Hmm? Show me that ass i love so much."

You did as he asked, bending yourself over the armrest of the couch. Irritated by all the clothes still on, but Mikey said not to take anything off, and you wanted to be his good girl. Even your sneakers were still on.

You looked behind at him, and he had taken all his clothes off, and was roughly palming his cock in his hand. One finger looped around your panties, yanking them down your legs and off, landing somewhere on the floor. He winked at you, making you blush. He gripped your ass tightly.

He spread you open, he slides his cock down to the wet, sopping hole of your pussy, testing the readiness of it by slipping the tip in. Your pussy basically sucked him in, begging him to give it to you. "So fucking wet and ready baby, so fucking good for me." 

Instead of fucking you like you desperately needed, he just popped the tip in and out a couple times, spreading your wetness down to your clit and up to your ass. 

And then he was lined up to your pussy again, holding himself at your hole, and you whimpered, looking over your shoulder at him, glossy eyes begging for him.

"Why so quiet, princess? I want to hear you," he said, moving his cock down to your clit again, and then right back up to your centre.

"Please," you begged, voice breaking with anticipation.

"Please what?" 

"Please... please fuck me Daddy," you begged, "please fuck me, I've been so good, I want it. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" you begged.

And in one swift movement he grabbed the belt again, yanking it tight, constricting your throat just enough for you to feel the threat of choking, and also thrusting himself fully inside you. You screamed at the sudden invasion, but it felt so fucking good. The belt slightly constricting you, forcing your head back, and Mikey suddenly balls deep inside you made you scream you loved it so much. His other hand gripped your ass, the skirt bunching up in his palm.

Like how he treated your face, he was roughly fucking into you, each pump going all the way out before slamming back in. Each move was calculated, your head being forced back felt... so fucking good. He slapped your ass, flipping your skirt up. 

You muttered unintelligible syllables, just grunts and moans as he took all of you. 

You were taking him so well, your pussy was gripping him so tightly. Fuck, Mikey couldn't take it, but he didn't want to cum yet. Didn't want it to end.

You were breathing heavy, getting close to finishing, and Mikey could feel it. He knew the signs of your orgasm, and right when you were about to fall off that edge, he stopped entirely, pulling out and letting your orgasm shatter to pieces, not giving you any sense of relief. Instead, you were left with a painful thump in your clit. 

Mikey touched it slowly and softly, giving nowhere near enough to coax you back to your orgasm, but enough to soothe the throbbing of neglect your poor pussy felt.

You whined, trying to push yourself back on him, and it made him chuckle. You looked so desperate for him. You wanted him. And Mikey finally got back his confidence that he was the only one for you. A fact you'd never doubted.

He loosened the belt, taking it off completely, and flipped you over, so you were standing again, leaning back against the couch. He moved your hair out of the way to make sure he didn't do any damage, and he didn't. It was just a little red, with a few small marks where the edges had rubbed into you. But he'd never pulled it tight enough to hurt you. 

And then his movements were caring, just for a moment, just enough time to slide off your skirt, and then your shirt and bra. He slowly undressed you, stroking his cock slowly. He worshipped your body, hands dragging slowly across all newly exposed skin.

"So fucking pretty, baby," he said, "and you take it so well, who knew you had this kind of ... perseverance?"

"I want to cum," you pouted, "and I want you to fuck me full."

Mikey’s eyes widened at your words, and his usual cheeky grin returned. "Oh, baby, you don't even know what you're asking for," he groaned, biting his bottom look as he took in your disheveled appearance.

"Yes, I do," you challenged, "please?"

And he pushed you back, letting you fall onto the couch cushions. And you crawled backwards as he climbed over the couch, stalking up your body like you were his prey. 

He wedged himself in between your thighs, lining him up with your pussy and shoving it back in, hitting every part of you. He stayed still inside you, every inch of him covered with you. And he kissed you. He kissed you with his tongue, teeth, with his hands. He was all over you, covering every sense and taking the attention of all your thoughts. 

"I love you," he muttered, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you whispered.

"Good," he smirked, "now take it."

And he was thrusting into you like he didn't love you at all. Hitting every part of you that was only for him to hit. Each slap of his hips hitting into your thighs it hurt, but only in the most pleasurable way. You moaned, wrapping your legs around him, trying to somehow bring him in harder, deeper.

One hand by your head, holding him up, the other latching around your throat as he kissed you, all tongues and sloppy. the only sounds being the squelching of your painfully wet pussy and your tiny whimpers, being lost in his mouth.

"I want you to cum," he said, pulling himself away from your mouth, keeping his eyes locked onto your as you moaned under him, breathless and sweaty. "Now, I want you to cum now," he said, angling himself differently, and thrusting harder, hitting you in a spot that made you feel like you were gunna explode.

You were going to explode, especially when he ordered, "touch yourself, make yourself cum."

Like a good girl, you rubbed small circles over your clit, helping him bring yourself back to that ledge you so desperately wanted to jump off. 

Your walls tightened around him, and it was different. It was different than every other time. You were chanting his name, moaning "Mikey," over and over until you came, screaming his name and feeling elecricity down to your toes. Every part of you was on fire, and your muscles tightened, pulling him in closer while you squirted, for the very first time, soaking Mikey and the couch, pushing him out of your pussy.

He moved quickly, putting two fingers roughly inside you and moving them with ferocity as he coaxed you through the biggest orgasm you'd ever had. You screamed, loudly, honestly worrying Mikey that the neighbours would hear, so he clamped another hand over your mouth, keeping the noise contained. Your muffled screams just coaxed him to an orgasm on their own, he was sure of it.

He had been close to his climax, but this new change of events was okay with him. He could've cum just from knowing how well he satisfied you.

Your heavy breathing continued for a minute, and in a cock drunk state you looked at him, smiling stupidly while he just watched you, still softly fingering you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"I made you squirt," he said, stupid, goofy grin all over his face. He continued stroking his fingers in you.

"You didn't cum," you pouted, looking at his still rock hard cock. 

"Guess we'll have to just start all over again, pretty girl, but why don't we get you some water first."

And before you understood what was happening, two were standing in the kitchen, Mikey bending you over the counter and slipping his cock back inside you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, and to get his fingers back on you clit. Your back pressed into his chest, and he pumped into you slowly.

"More," you muttered, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

"Hmm," he mused, grinning down at the sight of your ass slapping against his abdomen. "I don't know if you can take it..." 

"I can," you whined, trying to fuck yourself harder on his cock, but his arms restricted you, not letting you take what you wanted. 

“Tell me you can take it," he said, "convince me that you can take it."

And you wriggled free of his grip, climbing onto the counter and laying on your back. Mikey watched with a grin on his face, as you spread your legs wide for him, angling yourself at the perfect height for him to ravage you again. He took his place between your thighs, and rubbed himself up and down on your pussy.  

"I can take it," you promised, "I want you to fuck me like you hate me, daddy."

"Is that what you want?" he asked, continuing to slide his tip through your juices, leaving a trail down to your ass. He popped the tip into your pussy, pulling it out almost immediately. 

"Please," you whined, "please fuck me, I can take it. I love it, I want you to hurt me. I want you to fuck me until you fuck me full of your cum. I want you to take it all out on me," you begged, staring straight into his eyes. 

“Dirty girl," he said. He loved when you broke out of your shell. When you could talk about all your dirty desires with him. "Let's go to bed," he said, wicked smile ever present. "I want to ruin you on those cute pink sheets of yours."