#this goes in the tag because there is meat

[vehemourn]

Not even breaking a sweat!

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

I miss having an ask blog, that was so fun!!!! I just don’t have anything to ask blog about. Like I guess I could do a bsd ask blog, I have some neat ocs I’ve been wanting to yap about (Jim Butcher, Robert Louis Stevenson, James Herriot. Authors, but as bsd characters) but they’re all unfinished and I haven’t made anything for them yet (hopefully will start working on fics for Stevenson and Herriot soon). Also I get suuuuper nervous when interacting with other blogs.

But it was soooo fun while it lasted, and I soooo miss that

[eyrieofsynapses]

making beef stew tonight in my new crockpot, and I keep saying joyfully to myself "STEW!" which. is admittedly 90% because I can't stop thinking of this:

channeling the Elric brothers tonight

anyway, this is the stew in question at the beginning of its journey (three hours ago):

gonna see how it's doing in an hour

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Today’s line:

Am I going to put it under a cut for mild mouth whump because I am too tired to deal with tws? You bet.

“Fuck.” A gasp. “You.”

“Ah.” Clayton put the tip of a knife on Finnian’s lip, making him freeze. “Manners.”

He dragged the knife down, only nicking his upper lip, but splitting his lower lip in half. The taste of blood filled Finnian’s mouth, and he let his head hang low so he wouldn’t choke on it. He hoped his coughs would swallow his quiet sobs, wondering just how much pain this little blade could cause.

30 days 30 lines

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

thinking about that ford blood angel thing i made

[keeps-ache]

mm i Neeed to go the beach

[transhuman-priestess]

EDIT: 1/1/24: turning off reblogs for this because it's made my activity page fucking hell.

The poll is over, and I'm exhausted with explaining to people over and over again that my fantasies exist outside of capitalism and that i am in fact quite aware of the current moment re: technology and intellectual property.

It's was fun, but now it's not, so it goes bye-bye.

P.S. I am genuinely sorry for forgetting to add "spine" as an option.

[corduroy-leggings]

(via sweetlolitas)

[adventuringalchemy]

we're running out of fish to eat so i am now eating canned carrots and grilled cheeses 💀

[highvern]

Rough

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: Cheol’s hands, fingering, spitting, minor pain kink, pussy slapping, teasing/begging, thick dick cheol, unprotected sex, creampie, minor breeding kink, mating press, soft(ish) dom Cheol, strength kink, he’s wearing a watch and his chain, praise

Length: ~2k

Note: an ode to Cheol's hands, and his c*** i needed a cigarette while looking at pictures of his hands for this fic. everyone rot with me @gyuswhore @wonustars @ourdawnishotterthanourday @seokgyuu

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

The lights of the TV illuminate you and your boyfriend’s intertwined forms resting on the sofa. Seungcheol’s hands busy themselves, fingers digging into the sore cords of muscle twisted along your legs. He thinks nothing of it, focused on the drama unfolding on screen while you focus on the cool metal of his watch licking just above your knee.

He smiles when you jump, the tickle of his fingers sending bubbling laughter into the space between you.

“What?” He asks, as if he doesn't have all your weak spots committed to memory.

“Nothing.” you mumble.

“Want me to stop?”

A shake of your head is the only reply Seungcheol needs before he pins your flailing limbs and goes about his business once again. 

His hands always feel incredible. They’re always warm, always gentle despite what lurks beneath the surface. And they’re always on you, in some way or another. 

The roughness of his palm or dig of his fingers are second nature after years of them glued to your body. Whether they’re holding you close or stroking across your cheek as he wakes you with sweet kisses. Heating the small of your back while he guides you in a crowd, or tangled with your own as he whispers his deepest secrets into the dark late at night. You love every part of him but his hands show you a million different ways he feels the same.

You try not to react as he massages up your thighs, the sinew of muscles seizing before they melt under his careful ministrations. 

Every sigh through your nose is a tell Seungcheol is well accustomed to; what you like and what you love. Because he knows you like when he focuses on the curve of your quad, or the meat of your calves until they’re putty.

But you love when he pushes his hand under your oversized shirt and stretches the muscles deeper inside until you vibrate with want.

“You’re not watching the movie.” He whispers into your ear, nose following the curve of your jaw to the place he knows drives you wild.

“I'm a little distracted right now.”

And just like that the thick fingers stuffed in your cunt freeze before retreating. You can’t close your thighs to stop it due to the hand pinning your leg down to his lap with bruising force. But he can’t prevent your free leg from kicking in protest as you beg him to stay.

Seungcheol pinches the inside of your thigh until it stings, “Stop.”

You know that tone. It’s the one that warns you if you keep going, you won’t get what you want; what you need. Seungcheol isn’t a stingy lover but he likes to play and this is his newest game. If you can play along long enough he’ll make it worth your while.

“Eyes on the TV.”

With a harsh swallow you turn back to the screen. Once your boyfriend is sure you won’t look away, his hand returns, three fingers stretching you at a snail's pace. When he’s worked them all in, no longer cautious of your initial discomfort, he stops; focused on curling up against that spot he’s always found with embarrassing ease; pressing until your legs shake and you actually do start dripping into his lap. If it wasn’t for the fabric of your shirt, he could see everything.

The hand on your thigh joins in, the pad of his finger drawing rough circles of your clit. It’s fast and it's dirty but you keep pretending to watch the TV while Suengcheol does as he wants. Your mind is so numb you don’t even realize he’s pushed away the blanket and ruched your shirt up your hips to leave you bare. Not until you hear him spit and feel it land on your exposed clit framed between his fingers.

“Fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into the upholstery. “Please.”

But he’s not done yet. A swift slap to your pussy sends stars in your eyes and your body ten feet in the air if not for the man forcing you in place.

“Just relax, baby.”

You try. And Seungcheol respects your effort because every muscle he worked into submission over the past ten minutes jumps alive under your skin but you sit still in his lap and take what he gives you like he knows you can.

He kisses your cheek before whispering, “I love you.” 

Each word burns into your skin, licks through your blood. He loves you, and you love him and all he wants to do is take care of you. So you try and let him even if it means madness. 

Seungcheol watches you pretend to watch the movie once again, but your mind focuses on the sound of debauchery echoing between your thighs. If you looked down you know what you’d see. The way your pussy clings to his fingers with every stroke out, how they glisten with your arousal, every squeeze; everything. 

All the teasing is enough to make your eyes gloss. Especially when he adds a fourth finger and tells you how perfect you are, how you were made for him, and if you cum right now he’ll give you his cock but you have to earn it.

You want to feel his lips suck around your clit until you're nothing more than an empty shell but you’ll happily settle for the swipes of his fingers. It’s obscene how wet you are and how loud your ruined cunt is over the blasting speakers. 

“C’mon pretty girl,” he coos into your ear. “Come for me.”

The coil winds and winds until it snaps. All the edges ripple, the world blurs. Every breath hurts from the punch in your stomach forcing bolts of electricity through your nerves. 

And Seungcheol doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’re crying. Only to kiss away each tear with praise and soft lips. You barely crack your eyes open, watching his fingers disappear between his lips, sucking away the mess before he gives you a taste on his mouth.

Eyes shut and boneless in his arms, you let him push and pull you just the way he wants. Your body’s only protest in the exhaustion Seungcheol’s fucked into you with his hands. But it’s not enough to keep you from taking him again.

It never is.

When the jostling stops, you find him kneeling before you. He hasn't bothered to remove his clothes, or yours. Just forces your shirt over your breasts and his pants down until he's bare. Thick thighs frame an equally thick cock you know like the back of your hand.

If your boyfriend thinks you’re beautiful then he is other worldly in the glow of the LED screen. 

Hands anchored on the back of your knees, you spread out for his eyes only. Seungcheol’s mouth waters at your wrecked pussy, soaked and swollen from his attention, begging to be split on his cock. The drooling tip of his length taps against your clit, sending you deeper into the spiral, each nudge making your muscles twitch until he uses his thumb to catch on your opening and force himself through the mind numbing clench.

Seungcheol goes slow, pressing forward only a millimeter at a time, barely giving you a taste before he pulls back and starts again. If the way you’re positioned didn’t prevent you from rushing him forward than the fist around his cock would as he teases you until you're begging and he’s puffing up with pride at how desperate you are. 

Just when you think he’s ready to give in, almost flat against one another, he pulls out.

“I sweat to fucking god if you don’t fu—ckkkkkkk,”

Sheathed to the base in your heat Seungcheol finds paradise, dick twitching with every breath. The rough skin of his palms circle your ankles, spreading them up and out of the way so he can lean forward and give you what you want; your pussy stretched to the brim on his cock while he fucks every last thought out of your head.

“Move.” You mewl, barely human, shaking under his weight.

Settling your legs over his shoulders, he folds you in half, freeing the hands you love so much to do as he pleases. One lands just above your head to keep him from completely crushing you and the other cradles your jaw, thumb brushing across your lower lip before he meets you with a kiss.

His tongue glides against your own, fucking your mouth as his hips curl in time. Every thrust forward forces the air in your lungs up your throat to be swallowed by your boyfriend. He strokes you to life, pinned in place, helpless, glowing.

Seungcheol groans as he fucks you harder. “Fuck, you take it so well.”

You're shaking, vibrating from the synapses firing through every inch of your being. Chin dipped, you watch him wreck you, creaming around the base of his length like he’s fucked you for hours rather than minutes.

You’ll come like this, without any pressure on your clit; just the delicious drag of his thick cock in your walls, crushed under his weight and entirely at his mercy. Helpless Seungcheol latches his hand you yours, intertwines your fingers, and cants against like he’s possessed.

Eyes rolled as you go limp, you reach for his face and whimper into his mouth, climbing higher and higher until you hit the ceiling. Your hands are everywhere, anywhere in reach as you fail to ground yourself against the wave of pleasure rolling through your veins. And it all shatters with a whimper of his name.

He’s perfect and he’s yours and you don’t know what you did to earn him but you know you could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve him.

You try to break through the noise. But it just serves to make things worse because the only thing the man on top you likes to see more than you desperate for him is you coming on his cock. The arm above your head collapses, sending all of his weight on you, forcing him deeper into your guts until you can taste him on the back of your tongue. The wet clap of his balls against your ass with each rut forward rockets you into the deep end. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Seungcheol bites into your jaw. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, you’re so good. So good.” 

It’s blinding, eyes cinched so tight fireworks float in the darkness; Seungcheol’s moans blending with the rush of blood fleeing your brain. He’s feral with the satisfaction of your orgasm, how you wail beneath him like your neighbors won’t hear and know you have a man who pleases you in every way imaginable. Like you want everyone to know his name.

“Cheol,” you whisper, all breath. So quiet he wouldn’t hear you if he wasn’t dialed into your every move. “Want…” you pant. “Want you…”

Seungcheol presses as deep as he can before letting go; stuffing you with his cum, grinding into your pussy with every jerk of his cock until it spills around where he splits you and slips down your ass. 

His eyes never leave yours, watching you take every drop of his affection like you were made to. Like he was the one made to give it to you. Even with your thrashing, you never look away.

A final pathetic noise scratches the inside of your throat when he’s done. Seungcheol won’t pull out but he will pull away, yearning to see the mess between your bodies. Cum and arousal smears your bellies, your thighs, the base of his cock still inside you. Eventually he'll pull you up to wash off and you have no doubt the cushion will be beyond repair.

When he’s had his fill, he collapses into your chest, arms twine around your back as he kisses you with every ounce of devotion he can spare. Until you can feel his love down to the tips of your toes and through every last cell in your body.

And because showing you isn’t enough, he tells you again and again while he fills you once more in the comfort of your shared bed.

-

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[transienturl]

I love tech enthusiasts who are resistant enough to change to be devoted to running their outdated hardware and just fix all of the niggling performance issues instead.

Then we wind up with like, "person whose entire thing is recompiling chromium with different compiler flags to try to make it faster"

[tsukii0002]

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Satan

Light damages his eyes, and during his period he does not sleep at all.

During his cycle, the plaques that extend from his tail to his entire body become more pronounced and acquire a bioluminescent coating. As do its horns. Beware, they prick.

Some parts of his body grow feathers (I think this is a "side" effect of his birth). He aggressively plucks them out, help him not to hurt himself.

His teeth grow continuously, he has to be sanding them (biting things or his own tail). Other than that he doesn't groom much.

Satan doesn't have a fixed place to spend his heat, and although he likes to "nest" he doesn't know how to do it well, which frustrates him a lot. Help him, you already have experience (I think that's why he has chosen my room as his favourite place)

Depending on the weather he may make something more like a nest or a burrow.

Satan is terribly territorial, even with his siblings. He has had a run in with Cerberus from time to time. Please don't let that happen, the house won't hold.

Satan does not have a pre-heat period as such, but you can tell it is coming because he becomes more taciturn and solitary.

Raw meat is his main food, which is what he goes out to hunt very often because he needs a lot of it, but make sure he doesn't eat more than his capacity or it will make him sick. One way to do this is to feed him yourself (I think he thinks you have hunted for him if you do this).

Satan is the only one who haunts other demons and even souls of the condemned.

It is the only one that has fought other demons. Any living thing within 100 metres of him is encroaching on his territory, which is a problem because he moves so much for hunt.

Satan becomes non-verbal. But he does not use noises to communicate, only physical contact.

Growls and roars are reserved for threats and warnings (in other words, to communicate with everyone but you).

He likes physical contact, but is afraid to get close in case he hurts you (his tags and tail), you won't deny him comfort so be careful and that's it.

Satan produces pheromones, but does not usually mark.

His way of courting is to offer you resources, especially prey (he wants to prove he can feed you), it's not the first time he's brought you a live demon. Once he brought you a Little D, the poor thing kept shaking.

Satan's senses are heightened to the extreme. Many stimuli upset him and he has fits of rage. talk to him, so that he focuses his attention on your voice, that will calm him down. Lucifer's voice calms him down a lot too (but it's a secret)

All these changes (hormonal, behavioural…) are not good for his anger, the poor thing gets very angry without knowing why.

Satan's temperature is a reflection of his activity, when he is on the move it increases and when he stops it decreases.

During periods of low activity he curls up next to you, holding your hand (for fear of hurting you) with his pupils fully dilated, don't be fooled, he is fully alert and ready to attack.

Satan purrs? YES! It's the purr that most resembles a cat (that will make him happy, but don't tell him, the avatar of wrath has his pride).

Mc: *in their bedroom helping Satan* Here is ok?

Satan: *looking at them and nodding*

Mc: Making a nest is complicated… are you sure this is okay?

Satan: *standing next to them and rubbing his cheek with their cheek *

Mc: *smiling* Okay, let's go to the next part.

Satan: *grunting at a demon that's approached the house*

Mc: Satan!!! Satan stop!!!

Demon: *paralyzed with fear*

Mc: *hugging* Satan now, let him go, he's going, he's goi- agh!

Satan: !!!

Mc: *cut themself with his tail* It's okay, it's nothing.

Satan: *guilty look*

Mc: *taking him by the hand* Don't worry, this heals fast.

Satan: *nodding still guilty, squeezing their hand*

Demon: …. I thought I was dying!!!!

Satan: *purring as he presses his chin on Mc*

Mc: *talking to him to calm him down* And remember you don't have to go out every day, there's plenty of food here….

Satan: *purring more loudly*

Mc: But if you see my great uncle's soul, the one from the village, it's all yours.

Satan: *nodding with a smile*

Mc: *laughing* How trustworthy, you're awesome Satan.

Asmo

Although he spends most of his time awake, he needs to sleep.

He can be just as active during the day as he is at night (like arachnids).

For him to sleep, you have to be right next to him or he won't sleep.

Asmo needs to nest completely under cover, underground, but prefers the safety of his home to going outside. So he improvises a burrow in his room.

During his period the scales of his exoskeleton become shiny and velvety coated, as do his wings and horns.

Them take on a more striking fuchsia colour than usual. It will be one of the few times you will be able to see Asmo's tail with its sting.

He preens himself a lot, moistening its wings, polishing its scales... At first he is a little reluctant to be helped, but later he will be constantly asking for your help.

More than territorial, Asmo is possessive. He doesn't want you to leave his side, sometimes with his siblings too. If he smells a scent of someone else in his tribe, good luck to that individual.

Asmo doesn't have pre-heat, you'll just wake up one day with all your clothes gone and you'll know it's started.

Asmo's diet during its cycle is varied, although its consumption increases, ranging from fresh meat, fluids of all kinds, to poisonous substances such as flowers, mushrooms or other live animals. Be sure to allow some time to pass before he kisses or bites you.

If you get him a rare poisonous plant, he will be happy and content.

He can talk normally, but he will also make clicking sounds to indicate his mood.

Lots of pheromones, Asmo produces lots and lots of pheromones during his period, pheromones that he will use to mark his territory. Often his siblings can't be near him. You don't have that problem

Asmo is very needy to contact, hug him, give him kisses, caress his wings, his hair. He will be happy to let you.

And he will return the gesture, he will bite you too (always have your first aid kit handy). He will always try to be on top of you or for you to be on top of him.

Asmo's courtship consists of exsivating while performing a dance (like scorpions), this dance is complex and elaborate, and during it he releases a large amount of pheromones.

He gets very confused when you don't react to it, Asmo I'm sorry but I can't smell your pheromones, sometimes he even gets sad.

His senses are very developed, especially his sense of smell, which is more developed than any of his siblings. Make sure the flowers in his room are enchanted so that they don't emit odour and with perfumes and other fragranced products the same or he can get hurt.

Asmo's temperature will generally drop, but he will go through periods of very high fever (due to his sin) which will leave him tired.

During fever peaks he will become very active, and will devote most of his time to courting. To balance this out you will have to COURT him yourself, you'd better improve that dance.

Because of his temperature, he will spend most of his time hiding in the burrow, demanding your cuddles.

He purrs? , yes, in an adorable and soft way. It is easy to make him purr, with a simple praise.

Asmo: Kiss? *with Mc sitting on his lap*

Mc: Not yet Asmo.

Asmo: *with teary eyes* Don't you love me anymore?

Mc: *sighing* Asmo, my life, my heart, you just ate three nightshade roots.

Asmo: *almost crying* And?

Mc: I love you very much but I also want to live.

Asmo: My nose itches.

Mc: Wait a bit longer, I'm finishing enchanting the flowers.

Asmo: *sad * It would be less trouble to remove them…

Mc: But you like them, don't you?

Asmo: Mc..

Mc: *hugging him* I'm here to help you and to make you comfortable, if you like the flowers, the flowers stay.

Asmo: Love you so much!

Asmo: *dancing with a very high fever*

Mc: Asmo, you are so beautiful… you can rest now.

Asmo: *staring at them non-stop*

Mc: *blushing while standing up * You leave me no choice *starts dancing and grabs Asmo by the waist*

Asmo: ?! Are you courting me?! * excited*

Mc: *Grabbing him in their arms to take him to rest* Yup, it worked?.

Asmo: I'm all yours, Mc, from the beginning…

Beel

Light is not a problem for him, although he prefers darkness.

During his period, the exoskeleton hardens and plates of it appear all over his body, and his horns become iridescent.

In addition, its wings become ribbed in a pattern, which at first glance is very beautiful. The more complex the pattern, the more attractive it is. You always see his wings as beautiful, but you agree with him, Beel deserves it.

He does a lot of grooming, which is lovely to see, because Beel is a bit clumsy and needs constant help, he has been injured a few times and you don't want that to happen again.

There are some flies and other insects that lay their nests underground. In Beel's case he has a small gallery dug in the garden, which he uses for storage too.

Beel at the beginning of the cycle may be in the house, but as he progresses he will be in his gallery.

More than territorial, he becomes protective of you and his siblings (he once kidnapped Luke), so when he is in his gallery he feels bad, because his desire to protect them is crushed by his need to be hidden.

Beel has a very marked pre-heat, in which he accumulates large quantities of food in his small cave and his appetite doubles. All the inhabitants of the house join in at this time to cook.

In contrast, during his period of heat his activity is reduced and his appetite decreases, this does not mean that he does not eat, he eats more often but in much smaller quantities and from storage (food that does not spoil).

He will insist on feeding you constantly, prepare indigestion medicine, you will need it.

Beel becomes totally non-verbal, be prepared to become an interpreter, he communicates with grunts, clicks and buzzes his wings.

Lots of buzzing, it's not the first time you've been hit by his wings, with the different buzzes he makes all sorts of claims and they have a high communicative range, you'll just need some time to figure it out.

His pheromones are strong, and he will mark, although he does it unconsciously.

As I said, he likes to have his family around him, but when he can't, anxiety takes over, vibration and physical contact calms him down. The easiest thing to do is to lay him on your chest and talk to him while stroking his hair or wings.

Beel's courtship is complex, first he feels the need to prove he can be a good provider, so he will constantly enlarge and improve his gallery.

And then there is the display of his wings, patterning and rhythmic, synchronised movements and buzzes to impress you.

He sleeps more than usual, will want you to sleep in his arms, and usually does so perched on one of his walls, hopefully you won't develop vertigo….

His senses are not as sharp as those of his siblings, but he becomes much more agile and has much better reflexes.

Beel's temperature increases, due to the continuous movement of his wings (insects produce a lot of heat when flying), but when he is at rest he tends to cool down.

Beel's purr is a mixture of a buzz and a vibration, he will purr when he is calm and content.

Beel was a little worried about how you might react because many humans detest insects. Be sure to praise his wings and other attributes, because this demon is adorable.

Mc: So this is your lair?

Beel: Yes… I decided to keep it from period to period to not destroy the garden…

Mc: I think it's very practical!!! It must be very cool in summer.

Beel: Do you really think so?

Mc: Yes, and cosy too, you're an artist Beel.

Beel: *smiling as he blushes*

Beel: *grunts*

Mc: Beel I can't take anymore…

Beel: *holding out a piece of fruit to them* *buzz*

Mc: Really Beel, I'm going to explode…

Beel: !! *hugging them*

Mc: It's a figure of speech… but can you eat my share… please.

Mc: *sleeping hugging Beel in one of the corners of his gallery*

Beel: *caressing them with his cheek*

Mc: It's all right Beel?

Beel: *crackling with worry*

Mc: Don't worry... Lucifer is with them… and the others will take care of Lucifer for you.

Beel: …*cradling them adoringly*

Mc: And I'll take care of you, so rest…

.

.

.

If you have made it this far thanks you 🩷

[yunniestars]

peach mango pie 🥧

pairing: kinich x chef!reader tags: fluff, kinich is a bit grumpy here but we cool, based off that one tiktok i saw around 4 months ago but i forgot where it is now, implied insomnia, not proofread (i think i've never proofread my works help), the title is based on what i wanted to cook for a while already and i did (i'm actually eating it right now)

as a hunter, kinich usually suffices with just meat and berries he caught in the wild. he doesn't care about the quality as long as it is edible and it fills up his stomach (not too much though to avoid feeling too full). ajaw has complained multiple times about this but kinich reprimands him that they can't just slack off during a commission to cook a 5-course meal, much to the dragonlord's rage.

which is why when he met you, ajaw was ecstatic. you would always give so much treats to the point kinich reprimands you to not spoil ajaw too much.

jokes on him, though, kinich is guilty of being spoiled too. you always make sure he eats 3 meals a day while also checking if the food won't be a hindrance to him when he goes out for commissions. nevertheless, though, kinich is super grateful for your kindness.

so whenever kinich comes home after a long day, he would always await for whatever meal you had prepped up for dinner and hug you tiredly. in exchange, he does the dishes so you won't have to carry the burden of cooking the meals and doing the dishes.

kinich is thankful, he really is, but there's just one thing that concerns him.

୨୧

it's 3 am and kinich woke up from a bad dream. it was you leaving him for some fontaine boy, without even telling him the reason of why you broke up with him.

he was looking for your presence, about to panic because you weren't there, but then he started to smell something from the kitchen.

"oh god not again."

he immediately gets up and the moment he steps out the door, he sees you holding a tray of red velvet cookies. not only that, but he spots another tray which seems to be bagels stuffed with hotdogs.

you turn to see him looking at you with an expression that only you know that means "disbelief". he looks nonchalant, but really he's just ??? about why you're baking at 3 am AGAIN.

"good morning," you smile and take a bite off a cookie.

"why are you cooking at 3 am again? can't sleep?" he approaches you with slight worry. he's concerned about how you'd suddenly wake up at ungodly hours in the evening just to bake.

"mhm," you nod and let him embrace you. "and i was craving for the bagels we ate last week."

kinich sighs while ruffling your hair. "you couldn't wait till morning?"

"i felt the wayob telling me to do it now."

he chuckles and caresses your face, wiping the velvet crumbs off your face. "you probably misheard the wayob. you need to sleep, love."

you sigh and rest your head on his neck. "not tired..."

as you say that, kinich rolls his eyes because every time you say that, he ends up carrying you back to the bedroom while you sleep. which was what was happening right now, before he could even get the chance to tell you about it.

he sets your body gently on the bed, caressing your sleepy face and admiring how peaceful you look despite of the amount of desserts you baked just now.

kinich then sighs. that's another thing he has to worry about. where is he supposed to store the newly baked desserts when there's still 5 boxes from last time?

well, he'll just clean up for now and struggle it alone. what matters is that you're getting the amount of sleep you deserve right now.

"sleep well, my dearest."

[ written with love, yunniestars. ෆ ]

a/n: rahhh thanks for reading!! im really thankful for each time u guys read my work, it gives me lot of motiv hehe. one question though, how do u guys think kinich will say "love"? like the equivalent of "mon coeur?

[syoddeye]

down the hatch / badgering

141 x f!reader | ~1.9k | series page tags: p in v sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, bad jokes, manipulation, spanking, manhandling a/n: you know that tunnel scene in willy wonka and the chocolate factory? that's how it feels when i write this. a hoot and a half. banner by @/cafekitsune.

it’s an adjustment. living with roommates again. roommates who refuse to leave, thanks to all the death and destruction outside. convenient excuse, really.

no more naked mornings. you could go tits out—they fucking do—but you’re not entirely without reason. as salivating as they are, the hunks are your enemies.

even if they’ve showered, trimmed, and got some of the bloodstains out of their clothes. 

even if soap makes canned meat and powdered eggs palatable, whipping up a spam and rice bowl for you without asking.

even if gaz finds a five-hundred-piece puzzle on a scavenging trip and bites his tongue when you bat his hand away when he tries to help sort the pieces.

even if ghost slips a game of hangman under your door at lights out, and lets you guess a couple of letters each night. (first word? ‘wanker’. second? ‘larynx.’)

even if john—well, wait, no. the asshole hasn’t made a peace offering. probably because he knows you won’t honor them or because he’s sore about the whole ‘no cool nickname’ thing. whatever.

at night, alone in your room, you plot. how does one evict four man-roaches? make living with you worse than living outside.

in a weird way, your austrian neighbor and his aspirations for a fucking von trapp family: the squeakuel comes in handy. he hoarded all types of junk.

soap’s your guinea pig. he’s moody. something’s always itching under his skin. he snaps at the other men too easily and watches you like a dog admiring meat hanging off a bone. opportunity arrives one morning when john and gaz head topside and ghost settles in the living room. you corner the scotsman in the bunker’s tiny gym.

you linger in the doorway, fixated on the dark shapes under soap’s armpits. his mohawk sags, beads of sweat streaking over the freshly shorn hair. down his flexing muscles. and the grunting, christ. it’s a peek into heaven, which makes ruining it difficult.

without a word, you plop onto the other bench and take up the clarinet you found in your room. channeling the gusto of gus polinski, you wet your lips. how hard can it be? you don’t know polka, but you know rossini.

soap’s head snaps at the opening notes, nearly fumbling a pair of dumbbells, his face a flurry of anger, amusement, and annoyance. it’s a valiant effort, his ignoring you, but in the end, you only make it halfway through your best attempt at the william tell overture before he cracks. he rips the instrument from your hands and tosses it aside. he stands over you, smelly and slick, breathing heavily through his nose. 

you end up dragging him to your room.

soap is the definition of a romp in the sheets. a no-holds-barred deathmatch. it’s the first dick you’ve caught in months, and what a reintroduction. a miracle the bed survives. he starts with his mouth sealed to your clit, tongue working like it’s making up for lost time, as if your cunt and his face go way back. it’s refreshing, but you saw how fast he dropped to his knees for gaz.

two orgasms slip out by the time he wrenches off his damp clothes, chin glistening and eyes glittering. he goes cross-eyed the second his dick slaps against your folds, and you laugh at his desperate groaning when he sinks in. though, your laughs are choked off by his sudden, furious thumbing of your clit. (you punch him in the stomach—ignoring the filthy moan that elicits—and hiss out, “a genie isn’t gonna come out, stop fucking rubbing so hard!”) he ends up coming on your stomach and contorts to lick it off, muttering little gratitudes into your skin. it’s…cute. kind of gross, but cute. you kick him out after a power nap.

soap’s a wash. ba-dum tish. try, try again.

you set your sights on gaz. he’s tricky.

it quickly becomes apparent he’s the best at scavenging. smug about it, too, which you leverage. his ego’s easy enough to feed despite his unease. all it takes is batting your lashes and complimenting his hauls.

amazing. this must be the last jar of berbere ever.

pads? for me? so considerate, i’m stunned.

a mostly intact game of monopoly? wow, here, i thought we were done with landlords and taxes.

it’s simple. you begin with small requests. toothpicks. socks. lip balm. when he returns, he drops the goods in your lap like a cat with a mouse. stares at you with those pretty eyes while you lay it on thick. 

you escalate. either he’ll die on your absurd fetch quests or go crazy trying to fulfill them. brand new period panties. a specific type of hair dye. unopened baby lotion. naturally, he can’t find any of them. he still delivers approximations—granny pants, food coloring, and half a bottle of moisturizer—with a hopeful smile you crush under feigned hums of disappointment. ah, well, if this is the best you can do. it chips away at him. his smiles tighten.

you figure he’ll make a dumb mistake on his next outing out of some fucked desperation, and you’ll be down a roach. but after you tell him to keep an unopened pack of nail varnish because they aren’t your colors, he loses it. this time, you’re dragged to bed.

gaz pins you to the mattress, one hand on your throat and the other shoved into your leggings. pupils blown to the point where they’re shark-like. you’d spare a thought for all the poor creatures dead in aquarium tanks across the globe if he wasn’t hellbent on shoving a third finger in.

“so bloody irritating,” gaz seethes. “spoiled and greedy. have you always been a brat, or am i special?”

you spend your ration of oxygen wisely. “i think you think you’re special.”

for that, your knees meet your chest, and your pussy nearly chokes his dick. or so he tells you, pure filth spewing from his mouth. you giggle madly through the slight pinch of pain, mirroring the feral grin on his face. he’s big, and you could be wetter, but you’re not on your back for good behavior. he’s happy to tell you about that, too. how awful you are.

disappointingly, it doesn’t take long for him to lose his grasp on language. a shame, given his shit talk. 

he bats your hand away from your clit when you try to coax your orgasm along. clicks his tongue, eyes half-mast, and smirks. “gonna be good? gonna thank me?” 

in another world, you’d nod. whatever you say, beautiful. in this world, however, you flip the bird, and he flips you.

gaz pants like a bull, pulling you back onto his cock with an iron grip on your hips. his hand comes down across your ass, but there’s this je ne sais quoi missing. it’s the thought that counts, you guess.

after he makes a mess, you fully expect gaz to continue his tirade. instead, he finds a towel. he rolls you over and tucks you in. thanks you. it’s a shame memoirs are meaningless now as the perfect title comes to mind: ‘bunker bumping: backshots in the apocalypse’.

okay. zero for two. historically, settling for 50% isn’t unlike you. 

back at the drawing board, you reevaluate. annoying the men to death hasn’t worked, and they’re exceptionally durable in dogshit conditions. each day, they get closer to rigging the equipment necessary to contact their ‘friends’, seemingly unperturbed by your efforts. in fact, they seem more comfortable. at home. they poke around the utility room to assess what needs maintenance or improvement. the nerve.

it’s untenable. no matter what that dumb voice in your head insists, you miss solitude. miss not having an audience. you want to watch leon and the silence of the lambs without commentary. dance naked. leave the toilet door open. 

you withdraw.

the bedroom becomes your bunker within the bunker. you take meals alone. painstakingly move your puzzles and hoard books. shower at night after they go to bed. ignore them in the halls. keep your mouth shut when someone addresses you. it’s a fruitless endeavor, keeping your head in the sand, but a part of you hopes if you become as unobtrusive as possible, they’ll forget you exist. after all, they have each other. they put those squeaky single beds through the wringer.

problem is, you don’t account for scragglebeard himself. nosy fucker. 

it happens on shower night. towel-clad and testy, you trudge from the bathrooms and find your door open. you freeze in the hall, hearing clinking sounds and lowered voices. gaz and soap emerge, ferrying dishes and dirty clothes, not sparing so much as a glance. your stomach twists, immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario. they’re reclaiming the space, and they’re finally going to kill you.

unfortunately, it’s not so simple.

“whatever this is,” john sternly says the second you enter the room, “we’re going to fix it.”

ghost traipses past, arms full of unopened cans and more dishware. you glare at his back, then turn to john.

“get the fuck out.”

he chuckles. “sweetheart, what’s not clickin’? this isn’t just your shelter anymore.”

“got it,” ghost reenters, a roll of duct tape held aloft. 

well. you had a nice run. sure, the calamity was a setback, but considering you probably lasted longer than everyone you ever hated, present company aside, that’s a tick in the win column. 

however, ghost doesn’t bind your limbs or cover your mouth. he crouches at the ventilation shaft connecting our rooms, rips off several pieces of tape, and covers most of the grid. “you fuckin’ talk in your sleep.” he points at the small hole he left uncovered and stands. “my bed’s right through ‘ere. it’s fuckin’ unsettlin’.” grumbling, he shuffles out once more.

john’s not shy about scanning you from top to bottom, but apparently, he doesn’t like what he sees. he turns away. “what are we missing?”

you pick through what’s left of your clean clothes. “loaded question.” poking your head through a shirt, you shimmy the towel to your hips.

“where else would you find a clarinet?”

“up your–” he glares over his shoulder, and you smile sweetly. “there’s a small storage space in the closet here. it’s empty now.”

“we found the surveillance room and utilities. it stands to reason that there are others.” john scratches his chin, watching you like a hawk as you pull on shorts. 

“oh. you think?”

“i do.”

“well, think outside of my room. i’m going to bed.” you move to the bed and listen to john close the distance. he hovers, his breath hitting your neck in an exasperated huff. it sends a shiver down your spine. you bet he’s got what gaz was missing—experience behind the swing of his palm.

“like it or not, sweetheart, we’re sticking around. now, i’d prefer it if we kept things civil. based on what the boys told me, i know you’re capable of being friendly.”

it’s not the smartest decision in the world, wheeling on a man trained to kill. he catches your wrist as it winds up and twists it sharply behind your back. with one solid push, you get a mouthful of linen as your body promptly hinges at the waist. an angry string of obscenities gets lost in the sheets. you’ve never been so humiliated. or breathtakingly aroused.

john tuts.

“bad call, badger.”

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

This is inspired by this ask! Thank you for letting me use this idea @ceilidho. Also not proofread because it's late and I should really be sleeping

COD Masterlist | Next Part >

Butcher!Simon who can't help but get excited, as excited as he can get, when he sees you walking down the sidewalk towards the shop.

You're such an adorable thing, really. Always nervously wringing your fingers when you leave your dog outside. Always polite and soft spoken. He's never seen anyone as pure as you before (even tho he can't know how pure you are but compared to him you are basically a saint).

Your dog is the opposite of you, big and scary with a mean face but utterly whipped for you. It's obvious that you got it for protection and it's intimidatingly well trained. Simon admires the way you handle the animal. He wouldn't mind letting you handle him the same way.

Him and the dog might not be so different, he thinks. Both hardened old men, used to a harsher lifes, that soften for you and would follow your lead every day. Hell, he'd be as well behaved as your dog too if you put a collar and a leash on him and kissed his head the way you kiss your dogs when you leave him outside.

It's a familiar dance at this point, you tie your dog to the pole outside, look into the shop, notice Simon already looking at you and promtly look away at your dog once more.

You draw a few deep breaths, kiss your dogs head (damnit he never thought he'd be jealous of a dog) and Simon can't help but smile behind his mask, utterly enamored.

If only you weren't so intimidated by him. He really wishes he could have a conversation with you but he never gets more out of you than one word answers and a finger pointing at the meat you want.

And fuck, Simon is no conversationalist but he's really trying for you, but you're so damn timid around him. If he doesn't get to hear your pretty voice more he might just lose his damn mind.

So when you open the door, the chime a soft sound in the backround, entirely unfitting for this type of shop, his gruff voice stops you.

"You can bring him in with ya."

"I'm sorry, what?", you ask, confused.

"The dog.", Simon clarifies and you stand there in the open door looking at him like he just told you that he'll be butchering and selling your dog next.

Did he already fuck this up? You seem even more intimidated than usual. The diversion from your routine making your interaction even more tense. He tries to soften his voice when he goes again.

"You can bring your dog inside with ya, if it makes you more comfortable, sweetheart."

Your eyes are big when you meet his. Whether it's because of what he offered or the petname that slipped out, he isn't sure.

"But the sign says only service dogs?", you question genuinely confused.

Simon nearly snorts at your expression, like a deer caught in the headlights and damn him, if he doesn't wanna catch you.

"It's fine, just don't tell the boss. He won't know that it's no service dog as long as you don't rat me out. The boss can't tell a dog from a cat if I'm bein' honest.", he whispers conspiracionally. And then he swears he nearly has a heart attack.

You giggle. You giggle and blush brightly red at the same time, hiding your mouth with your hand and it takes everything in Simon to stop himself from jumping over the counter and pulling that hand away because the glimpse of your smile?! Yeah, he's fucked.

"Maybe next time I'll bring him in with me.", you finally answer. And Simon could die a happy man, finally having had a conversation with you (maybe just a short one but a conversation nontheless) that involves something other than the meat.

He's utterly fucked when you walk up to the counter, still blushing prettily (he didn't know he could make you do that so easily) and softly say your order.

He's utterly fucked when you pay, look at his name tag and say: "Thank you, Simon."

His name in your voice is a sound he will never forget again. He's sure he sounds like a fool when he says: "Have a nice day."

He's even more fucked when you turn around and he watches your cute ass walk out of the shop, giving your dog a treat for being so well behaved.

He nearly faints when you turn around, before walking away, gift him with a smile and wave goodbye. He returns the gesture mindlessly, glad that his mask is hiding the stupid expression he surely is wearing at that moment.

Oh yeah, he needs to catch you. And for that he'll have to prepare dog treats for next time.

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Double penetration with the Riddles??? 🤨 Male reader please 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Double Trouble - T. R. & M. R. x male!Reader

A/N: 😈 I hope you enjoy. It’s unedited with no use of Y/N. Also, please take the warnings seriously 🫶 I think I tagged everything but let me know if I missed something!

THERE IS NO SHIPPING BETWEEN TOM AND MATTHEO IN THIS!!!!

Fic is very 18+ so ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS!!!!

CW: Arguing; sexual content; explicit sexual content; almost fighting; Reader is referred to as a fucktoy; bickering; pet names; dom/sub dynamics, I think; exhibitionism, I think; praise; degradation; Reader is referred to as a slut; doggy style; spanking; Reader is a tiny bit of a brat; actual lube is used in this one; anal sex; anal fingering; begging; anal penetration; more spanking; double penetration, hehe; Reader blacks out from his orgasm; sorry for the ending; this takes place after Hogwarts so everyone involved is of age!!!!

2539 words

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

You were lying on Tom’s bed in his apartment bedroom, listening to him and Mattheo argue.

It wasn’t a particularly unusual exchange, but it was making you nervous. Tom usually took his frustration out on you sexually after a fight with his brother. But Mattheo’s staying with the two of you for Christmas break.

There is no escape from him.

As their argument grows more heated, you groan and begin to get up. Maybe talking a walk will bring about the end of their argument.

“No, you stay there,” Tom orders, his tone demanding obedience.

You freeze immediately, eyes going wide.

Both brothers turn to you, gazes equally as intense. It ignites something within you. Something hot that makes your cock twitch in your pants.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and make it go away. No such luck.

Thankfully, neither boy seems to notice.

“You’re smart,” Mattheo says critically, crossing his arms. “You help us decide.”

“He’s more than smart,” Tom says sharply. You can see the fight in his eyes, the way he’s ready to snap out a defense for you.

“Alright. I’ll help.” You sit back on your hands, gesturing for them to explain. “What’s the fight about this time?”

“We weren’t fighting—“

“Mattheo thinks he’s better in bed than me—“

“We’re— That’s not what I said, you dick!”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you enlighten us as to what you said, then?”

“Guys…” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I said I had a bigger dick than you!”

“Oh, right, because that’s so much better.”

“Hey guys…!” You stare at them.

“It is! You know I’m right! Remember that guy—“

“Yeah, I remember! Now shut up!”

Mattheo’s fist is halfway drawn back and Tom’s gripping his collar when you finally shout, “Hey!”

They stop and turn to you. Identical scowls on their faces. “What?”

You falter for a moment, unsure what to do now that you have their attention. “Calm down. There’s gotta be a better solution to this than fighting.”

They glare at you. The same angry look on both of their faces.

It’s hot. And you’re painfully aware of the way your pants feel tight.

Tom’s gaze drops for a moment, and you know you’re fucked.

“You know,” he drawls, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “I’ve thought of an idea.”

Mattheo’s gaze turns to him. “What?”

“If you’re so sure you’re better than me,” Tom continues, cocky gaze fixed on yours. “Then why don’t we test it out. See who really fucks better.”

You shiver, cock twitching in your pants. He’s not saying… He doesn’t mean…

Mattheo glances between you two, brow furrowed. “You mean…”

“Just this once.” Tom glances at his brother. “Are you in?”

Mattheo cocks his head, his gaze turning into something cunning. “I thought you didn’t share.”

Tom’s eyes narrow. “Are you in or not?”

“Fine.” Mattheo rolls his eyes and glances at you. He eyes you like a piece of meat, clearly interested in the plan.

Your cock twitches again at his look, making the tiniest whimper catch in your throat. Merlin, do you want them to fuck you.

Tom starts talking again. “Now for the real question. Which of us goes first?”

“Me,” Mattheo says confidently. “It should be me.”

Tom gives him a cold side eye. “Oh? And why is that, pray tell?”

“He’s your fucktoy. You get to have him whenever you want. ‘Sides,” Mattheo smirks. “You’d get too jealous if I went second.”

“Hmph.” Tom scoffs softly. “Very well. I suppose I’ll allow you to have a go first.”

“Oh, wow. ‘Allow me’. Like he can’t choose if I get to fuck him or not.”

Tom bristles. “Don’t get too full of yourself. This is a one time thing only, Mattheo.”

Mattheo rolls his eyes and turns to you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

He says it so mockingly, but you nod so eagerly. You can’t help it; you’ve always been weak to Tom’s meanness. From Mattheo, it has practically the same effect.

Still, you can’t help but get a little shy when you ask, “You want me to undress for you, um…” You hesitate. You call Tom ‘sir’, but that’s his thing.

“Matty.” Mattheo smirks at you a little. “Just call me Matty.”

You relax a bit. “Okay. Do you want me to undress, Matty?”

“Yeah.” His smirk grows. “Go right ahead, handsome.”

You flush a little, and Tom scowls. He crosses his arms tightly, watching you intently. It only makes your skin burn hotter, a shiver working up your spine.

You undress quickly, and sit back on the bed. Tom’s long since fucked any shame out of you, but with Mattheo gazing at you so hungrily, it’s hard not to be a little embarrassed.

“Look at you,” Mattheo murmurs, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh. “So eager. Are you always this eager for my brother?”

You nod, swallowing down a moan at his tone. Mattheo’s smirk turns cruel. “Little slut.”

You shudder, a whine spilling from your lips. You can’t help it; you love being degraded like this.

Mattheo gestures for you to roll over and you do. You settle on your knees, trembling with excitement.

“Such an obedient toy,” Mattheo chuckles, trailing his fingers over your ass. “I’m almost jealous.”

“Just get to fucking him already,” Tom snaps.

“Why?” Mattheo sneers. “Scared I’ll do a better job at pleasuring him than you?”

“You little—“

“Or maybe you’re just jealous he’s so excited for me?”

You groan and bury your face in your pillow. Your cock is leaking, dripping pearly beads of precum onto the mattress. And they’re too busy fighting to care.

“Please!” You beg, interrupting them. “Just fuck me already!”

Dead silence.

You don’t even have to look to know you’ve fucked up.

A hand comes down sharply on your ass and you yelp, jolting forward. Pleasure and pain rocket through you, making your brain go fuzzy. “Fuck! I’m sorry!”

“You should be!” Tom hisses.

Mattheo scoffs and grips your ass tightly, fingers digging into your skin. “And to think I was gonna be nice to you.”

You just moan into the pillows.

Mattheo smacks your ass again, harder this time. “Little slut. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You gasp out. “Fuck, yes!”

“Dumb little slut. Can’t think of anything beyond getting fucked, can you?” Mattheo sneers.

You just squirm and wiggle your ass, trying to provoke him into giving you something—anything at all.

He spanks you again, a low growl in his throat. “That’s enough. Act up once more, and you’ll see what it’s like to be punished by me.”

Oh, how you ache to see what that punishment entails. Every fiber of your being wants to act out against him, just to see what he does.

A hand suddenly grips the back of your neck, tight enough to hurt. “Don’t you even fucking dare.”

Tom. And he sounds pissed. As if he could read your very thoughts. Which, you were reminded, he could. Being a Legimens and all that.

Your body calms. You relax a little, taking a deep shaky breath. The fight leaves your body, making you go all soft and pliant under Mattheo’s hands.

“Good boy.” Tom lets go of you and steps back again. “Remember your place.”

You melt into the pillows, focusing on relaxing and staying calm. Something cold and wet drips against your asshole, pulling your attention. It’s lube, silky against your tender skin.

Mattheo’s fingers press against your asshole, making you moan. You force yourself to stay loose and relaxed as he slowly works his fingers into your sensitive hole.

“Greedy little bastard,” he mutters. “Taking me so well. Just like a slut.”

You can’t stop the whimpers and moans that spill from your lips. You arch as Mattheo’s fingers brush against a spot inside you that makes your head spin and your vision fuzz. “Fuck! Right there!”

He chuckles a little and prods the spot again. “Right here?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squirm and gasp as he massages the area, making stars burst in your vision. “Fuck!”

“Mattheo.” Tom’s voice is harsh and annoyed. “You’re here to fuck him, not pleasure him.”

Mattheo just snickers softly and removes his fingers from your ass. You whine at the loss, trying your best not to grind against the bed underneath you. You just need something—anything at all.

More cold lube is dribbled onto your ass and Mattheo coats his dick in it. The action makes you moan. He’s big. Bigger than Tom even.

Anticipation builds as Mattheo positions his cock, pressing the tip against your asshole. “You ready, handsome?”

“Just fuck him already!” Tom snaps. “He can take it. He loves this sort of stuff.”

It’s not a lie, and you whimper into the pillows at his harsh words. Part of you appreciates Mattheo’s care, his softer actions. An even bigger part of you just wants to be fucked dumb by him.

You press back against Mattheo, sneakily trying to slip the tip of his cock inside you while he’s busy arguing with Tom.

No such luck.

A hand comes down on your ass again, smacking you harshly. “What did I say about knowing your place?”

It’s Tom this time. You yelp and whimper, burying your face in the pillows at the welcome sting.

“Please, sir!” You beg. “Please, I need it so bad!”

“Oh, you need it, huh?” Mattheo’s voice makes you want to worship at his feet; it’s so sinfully cruel, so unbearably attractive. “Where was all this begging just a moment ago?”

You want to sob. You want to cry. You want to scream, to beg for him to please stop teasing you! But you don’t. You know better than that.

“Please, Matty,” you whimper. “Please fuck me! I’ll be so good! I’ll make you feel so good, just please please fuck me!”

With a smug grunt, Mattheo pushes his dick into your ass. “Good boy.”

You moan. Burying your face in your pillows and gripping the sheets underneath you. He feels amazing.

Big and thick and perfect.

You’ve never felt so full in your life. And he hasn’t even bottomed out.

Mattheo starts to thrust and you wail into the pillows. He’s hitting that spot inside you so perfectly. Practically ramming it with his cock, making your head spin with pleasure.

You can’t even think. Can’t do anything but squirm underneath him, babbling cries of “Yes! Yes! Matty!”

You don’t know how long he fucks you; it feels like forever and only a moment. All you can focus on is the growing twists of pleasure in your abdomen and the delicious ache that fills you every time he pounds into you.

Vaguely, you’re aware of harsh words. Of a cool hand on your ass. And then Mattheo’s cock is gone.

You sob at the loss. Actual tears filling your eyes. You need to be filled. Need to be used until you cum.

“Please!” You sob. “Please! I need more!”

“Oh, shut up. You’ll get more when I give it to you.” Tom’s voice.

A new cock pushes into your ass and you whine. It’s good. It feels good. But it’s not enough.

You endure it as long as you can, whining and moaning as Tom fucks you. But eventually you break.

“Please, please, sir! I need more! I need more!”

Tom stills. You cry into your pillows, pressing back against him. You need more, not less.

But he pulls out.

You can hear soft murmurs. Angry hisses. Then cool silence.

You can feel their gazes on you. Feel their burning stares.

After what feels like an eternity, a warm hand grips your ass. Icy cruel words spit out. “Fucking slut. Can’t be sated with just one brother, can you?”

You squirm with anticipation, biting the pillow under you to keep from moaning. You don’t know what they’re planning. But it’s going to be good. And it’s going to be mean.

A hand smacks the meat of your ass, cool and punishing. “He asked you a question.”

“No,” you gasp out. “I need more!”

“Little slut needs us both, I think.” Mattheo’s tone is calculating. Cold. “If he needs more so badly, I think we can give that to him.”

A thrill shoots up your spine. Both? At the same time?

Your brain practically goes to mush at the thought.

“Yes!” You babble out. “I need you both!”

Mattheo chuckles darkly. “What did I tell you, Tom? You’ve got yourself a greedy little fucktoy here.”

“I know what I have,” Tom replies, but his voice lacks its usual bite. “Now move over.”

Your body sings with excitement and anticipation. You need them so badly. Just the thought makes you moan, unable to stop from grinding a little against the sheets.

Dual hands come down on your ass, one on either side. Cold and warm, both making you yelp and jerk at the sudden sting. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“I’m sorry!” You whimper. “I just need—“

“We know what you need.”

More lube is slathered over your asshole, cool fingers prepping you for what lies ahead.

You can barely wait, panting and whining into your pillows.

Finally, finally, their tips press against your asshole. You instantly surge back, desperate to take them both. This time, they let you.

Hands grip your waist, steadying you and holding you in place.

There’s a moment of calm.

And then they push in.

You melt. You moan. You sob. You writhe in pleasure.

You’re so fucking full.

And when they thrust into you? Seeing stars doesn’t nearly describe it well enough. It’s pure bliss. Pure euphoric pleasure.

The sounds you make are barely human. Wails and sobs and moans. Echoing the growls and groans and hisses of pleasure coming from the brothers.

You could die a happy man being fucked like this. The world could end and you would not give a damn.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, slamming into you with so much force you black out. Utterly and completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

When you come to, the boys are bickering. Quietly arguing yet again.

This time, though, the sound is welcome. You bask in it, relishing the way their voices wash over you.

You’re on your back now. Your ass feels full, cum slowly leaking out of you.

You let out a soft moan, cluing them into the fact you’re awake. The arguing stops.

Cool fingers press against your forehead. “Hello, darling.” Tom’s voice. “You had quite the moment there, didn’t you?”

“Mmm~” You nuzzle into his hand, your tongue heavy and thick in your mouth. Speaking feels like too much of an effort so you just lazily grin.

A soft chuckle comes from your other side. “I told you he’d be fine.”

Heavy silence. Tom clearly holds himself back from arguing more. “I… suppose you were right.”

You open your eyes, surprised. The admission feels… like some sort of victory between the two. Like, a moment of possible reconciliation.

For a moment, the three of you rest in it.

Then Mattheo breaks the silence. “So, which of us fucked better, in the end?”

Tom hits him with a pillow.