#tw candy core

[orange-artblog]

woah

day 6 - destroying

alternative version (creation)

aftermare week + orchid (geno) and berlingot (night) - @bluepallilworld

geno - crayonqueen / nightmare - jokublog

extra /details

[skullcat-sketch]

Cringetober 14: Candy gore

Fanart for The candy killer

[lovenderghost]

⋆｡°• Paired my animation with most fitting ost I could think of 💕🍓🫀 ⋆｡°•

[kaijinapple]

I wanted to color a drawing so why not start off with a guro draw? I did this with a scp I recently discovered. I'm absolutely OBESS with this banana gal. It's basically a kaiju lizard splice with a banana- what more could you want?

[wyldthots]

Mommy's Day Off Pt. 2

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/wyldthots/761095102467833856/mommys-day-off?source=share

This picks up directly after Part 1. It will make more sense, but you don't have to read that one for this to make sense. Nothing but porn. Minors do not interact. TW: incest, mommy x daughter, strap-on, drugging, weed intox, baby girl doesn't know she's been fed drugs.

After the candy mommy gave me, time stretched in a funny way. For all I know, mine and mommy's day could have already come to a close. I was quite the view, I'm sure. My eyes were clouded and unfocused, my breathing labored, and my swollen pussy was still spread wide and on display for my Mommy.

"You did so good, baby." Mommy grabbed under my knees and pushed them out and down. A shocked gasp left me when a glob of spit landed on my clit and she roughly rubbed it in. Mommy scoffed at my reaction. "You know, they say that weed either makes you hungry or horny. I guess we know which you are, slutty girl. I think another edible will do you good..." Her words don't process in my brain. I'm too focused on my throbbing pussy. She feeds me another weird-tasting candy but I swallow it to make mommy happy. I love it when she's happy with me...

My head is so floaty and my eyes can't stay open... Ugh, my little pussy feels so good with the little circles I keep tracing on my clit. But my hands are on the couch by my side? My eyes slowly shift to my core still spread wide. It's Mommy. My eyes travel up from her fingers rubbing my pussy to her other hand stroking a strapon. Mommy sticks her slick-covered fingers in her mouth and moans at my taste.

"Oh, mommy isn't done yet..." She starts dragging her cock through my messy folds. "Baby, have you ever had anyone inside of you? Other than mommy's fingers..." She slides 2 fingers inside and massages my pussy wall. My mouth drops open and my head falls back as I moan loudly. Mommy laughs at my reaction. "I didn't think so, but don't worry. Mommy's gonna be so, so nice to her baby."

I blink my eyes but they struggle to open again. When they do, I am face to face with her big blue cock. She smiles as she guides it into my mouth. I have never done anything like this, but if it will make mommy happy, I'll do it. I shove her cock in as far as it'll go but I gag and have to pull myself off quickly. I look up at mommy with tears in my eyes, hoping that she won't be mad at me for messing up.

"You're okay, baby. Try again. Take it slow. You make mommy so proud." I grab her cock with one hand while the other moves up her body to cup one of her titties. I moan as I slowly bob back and forth on her cock. Mommy's fingers thread in my hair and tighten. Then she yanks me forward by my hair so that I choke on her fat cock before she pulls her hips back and thrusts again. I choke and gag on my mommy's fat cock until she finally throws me off. I land roughly against the couch but Mommy moves faster than I can think. She grabs under my thighs and yanks my body forward so my ass is hanging off the couch.

"Time for round two. That second candy should be kicking in aaaaannnyyyy second now..." Mommy whispers in my ear before tweaking one of my nipples and sucking on the other before she swapped sides. "Time for me to fuck your pretty pussy. Mommy is going to pop that cherry of yours." She pulls away while she lines her cock up with my dripping hole. "Big breath, love. And out."

She waited for me to follow her direction before gliding her cock into me and stretching my pussy. I thought she would stop and let me get used to her size. That's what they do in all of the stories I read... Not my mommy, though. She didn't stop until her hips rested against the backs of mine. My pussy was spasming and clamping on the large intrusion inside of me. Mommy smiles and pushes on the bulge in my tummy. I moan out and grab at her face to kiss my mommy. I just needed to be close to her.

"Baby, Mommy is so close to you. Do you need closer?" I didn't know I had said anything out loud but I nodded through my teary eyes. Mommy shoved herself deeper into my sopping pussy before sloppily kissing me. She didn't hold back while she pistoned into me. Every thrust forced a yelp out of me. Time was still stretching weirdly, but the next thing I knew I was bouncing on mommy's lap. Mommy fucked up into me while I ground my pussy down and my ass clapped against her thighs. I pull mommy's mouth from my nipple with a pop and I shove my tongue down her throat. I can't remember if this is happening or if this is the best dream I have ever had... My pussy clenches down on Mommy's hard, thick cock while I have the most intense orgasm ever. I collapse on top of Mommy but I can feel her thrust up into me, forcing me to ride her through my orgasm.

"Damn, baby. Look at how messy and puffy your baby cunnie is." Mommy cooed to me as she pulled out of my gaping cunt. "Fuck, this is so hot. Those pot gummies really hit you hard and fast. It's not even noon yet. We are just getting started, baby. Now Mommy needs to teach you how to return the favor..." I can't even open my eyes, but I can feel Mommy lapping at my pussy again.

"Messy girl. Mommy will clean you up while you catch your breath."

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / FINAL

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of suicide, heavy angst, please be cautious as always! <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

The weight on your shoulders was heavy and exhausting. It caused your body and soul to ache with a crushing feeling of grief. Your conversation with Price played in your mind tenfold, repeating over and over until it drove you to the point of insanity. You feared if you stayed stuck in the loop for a moment longer, your brain might short circuit and you’d succumb to life’s torturous game.

How had things come to this?

Two weeks ago, you should’ve been dead. Two weeks ago, you should’ve denied Ghost’s abrupt deal, you should’ve told him the truth – that you had no intentions of living past that very Friday the two of you planned meticulously to end your life.

Two weeks ago, you should’ve never met Simon.

What was meant to be a task given to you with the purpose of self healing had erupted into an even scarier nightmare. Life would’ve never been so complicated had you denied Simon and stuck to your original plan on desired death. It would’ve never been so complicated had you just done it all yourself instead of pussying out and asking him to finish the job for you.

Now, all that remained was a heart beyond repair, fragments of its shattered pieces being taken away with Simon when he had left.

He had the entirety of your heart, and you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. You couldn’t take it back if you wanted to. It belonged to him, and your heart was loyal to its owner.

All that was left was the, what now? Price had made it clear he couldn’t promise anything. Hell, you wouldn’t blame him if he had just said that in a half-assed attempt of comfort. For all you knew, Simon hadn’t a clue what was going on in the first place, or perhaps he didn’t care. Living without closure of what could’ve been had left you scarred and untrusting, even of the very man you’d fallen in love with.

Love was what always got you into this mess, after all. You couldn’t love yourself, so God was executing punishment by making you unlovable to everyone else. If anything, you should be thanking him for steering you away from more heartache.

Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Simon giving you a taste of what life could be if you had just tried harder, before pulling the candy right out of your mouth before you could protest that you weren’t quite finished with it.

You didn’t reach out to Simon. Even though you were blocked from the moment the two of you had sex and he ran, you didn’t dare try and test out your theory to see if he had undone his action. You weren’t even sure you knew what you could say to him.

While it was clear Price played a dirty hand in creating the drift between the two of you, Simon still allowed himself to be a puppet on Price’s string. It boiled you to the core, filled you with resentful distaste that you couldn’t quite swallow.

It was hard to accept that you hated him almost as much as you loved him.

No matter how angry you were at the world for the hand it was dealing you, you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave it. Not on your own. Even through the hole of emptiness that rattled you to the bone, a spark of hope shone from deep within you, and that was what kept you going. It was the faintest of light, fighting to stay ablaze. No matter how puny and weak it was, it was still there, cheering you on in a gentle voice to keep going.

As much as you didn’t want to listen, you did.

Life’s a bitch and then you die. But maybe if you gave it one final chance at redemption, things may work out in your favor this time. And if they didn’t? The original plan was always in the cards.

Simon left Price in the dust the moment he uttered those words. Go and get your bird back, Simon.

He had never heard something so beautiful, so breathtaking. It was his call back home, and he’d be an absolute tool if he didn’t rush to return to its welcoming arms.

He didn’t care how ridiculous he looked running along the streets in the middle of the night. Hell, he didn’t even bother to put his mask on. Tonight, he was Simon, and he was wearing his identity with pride. Ghost was tucked away in the darkest depths of his mind, caged in and hidden. With you, he didn’t want to be Ghost. He didn’t want to be a man who thrived off of the stolen lives of the innocent in order to pay his bills. He didn’t want to be the broken version of himself that imprisoned his own vulnerability.

He wanted to be the man who could give you a colorful life filled with painted sunsets and warm rays. Only Simon could do that, and he’d throw Ghost away if that was what it took.

The closer Simon got to your apartment, the more the nerves wracked his body with a faint tremor. Would you even speak to him? Forgive him? He knew he didn’t deserve it. Hell, he deserved a cold fist to the jaw and a stab wound to the heart.

The least he could do was try.

He pondered if he should get you something. Flowers, maybe, but when it came down to it, flowers were a pathetic excuse for an apology. No, Simon wanted to do this right. He had spent his entire life partaking in wrongdoings. For once, just once, he wanted to be good.

The sight of your building nearly had him throwing up on the concrete beneath his boots. It turned his stomach in a sickeningly sweet way, coating his tongue with bitter cottonmouth. For the first time since he could remember, Simon was scared. Downright terrified.

While the feeling should be seen in a negative light, he saw it as the complete opposite. It meant he was alive. He was still human. He still harbored emotions that Ghost had so desperately tried to get rid of.

Even after everything, he was still Simon.

His feet grew heavier and heavier with every step he took into your building, up the raggedy stairs, and down the dim hall, just like the routine he had always fallen into when waiting for you to return from work. Things may be different now, and he may be venturing on the same path with a different ending this time, but that didn’t mean he was led astray. Different could mean better, and he could only pray to the very God putting him through hell that his outcome would be brighter than before.

Simon didn’t know how long he stood outside of your door. He willed himself to knock, but he was struggling internally. The truth was, he was scared to see you. Seeing you meant facing the result of his regretful actions, and he wasn’t sure he could handle recognizing you as broken because of him.

He dug this grave, he wallowed in it, and now it was time to crawl his way out and make things right.

His fist shook as he raised it to knock on the door. Knuckles collided with the old wood, echoing sharply in his ears. Anxiety crept into his bones, leaving him in an uncomfortable suffocation. He felt as if he wouldn’t be able to breathe until you were in front of him. The room felt small, it was closing in on him. He wondered if this was a bad idea. Maybe he should’ve just left you alone, maybe he should’ve kept you out of his mess–

“Simon?”

The air that was tightening in his lungs exhaled in a slow, trembling breath, shoulders going slack from their tightly wound stiffness. Your voice was his oxygen, and he could finally breathe again.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, and God, did it feel jubilating to say that name again.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, and the bitterness in your tone was clear. It sunk into him like a thousand knives, coursing him with relentless pain.

“I need to fix this,” he gasped out. “Please, sweetheart, let me fix this. I know I fucked up, alright? I fucked up bad.”

You stared at him in disdain, but Simon could see the glimmer of a burning ache in your eyes that matched his own. You missed him just as much as he missed you, but your hurt overruled everything else. He didn’t blame you one bit.

“You left me after you had sex with me, Simon,” you spat with dripping fire that scorched him with every word. “You left me after everything. You expect me to just let you come here and tell me you fucked up, as if I didn’t know that?”

Simon could feel his resolve slipping away. He wanted to panic, to spit out useless apologies until one of them worked and you caved, but that wasn’t how this was going to go. Simon would have to work for it, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away. He’d spend the rest of his life working for it if it meant having you in the end.

“Sweetheart–”

“Fucking– I’m not doing this in my doorway. Just… just come inside,” you sighed out, utterly defeated. You didn’t have to tell Simon twice. He stepped into your apartment cautiously, letting you know that you were in complete control. You were in charge, and Simon was here to take the beatdown, no matter how painful it may be.

Upon entering, your apartment was in havoc. It wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t disgusting or revolting, but it was clear you spent most of your days cooped up in your room. Simon felt guilt eat away at him from the mere sight alone.

“Tell me how I can fix this,” Simon pleaded. Everything about his body language was desperate, distressed. His hands spoke for him, moving animatedly, unable to control himself. He was begging. For the first time in his life, he was begging.

“I’m not telling you how to fix anything, Simon. You’re the one supposed to fix it on your own. I’m not going to do it for you,” you explained in eerie calmness, but it was unmistakingly exhaustion. He couldn’t imagine how much he had put you through.

He knew you were right. This was Simon’s responsibility, and begging you for the cure would be easy on him and harder for you. He couldn’t allow that to happen. You’d already been burdened enough.

Simon stared at you, eyes glossed over, eyebrows pulled together from his stir of emotions. The way you stared back was empty, and it broke his heart that he was the reason for the light going out so soon after gaining it back.

He contemplated what to do. There were many ways this could go sideways, and he couldn’t risk that. He had to pick what was right in his heart, even if it meant shoving away the pride he’d grown accustomed to over the years of being alone and hollow.

Simon slowly got down on his knees, hands clasped in his lap, and he gazed up at you in woe. He was baring himself to you completely, stripping himself of all defenses, and succumbing to vulnerability. Never had Simon gotten on his knees for another person. His ego was too large, and he refused to let himself express weakness.

For you, he’d hang himself dry.

“What are you–”

“Please, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice soft yet broken, brimming with anguish. “I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. Nothin’ I say will make it better. I can’t change it, no matter how much I wish I could. I fucked up, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness for leavin’ you the way I did, for hurtin’ you like everybody else has done. I gave you an empty promise, and even then, I broke it.”

You were speechless from where you stood, peering down at this burly man on his knees for you. Your eyes never strayed away from his, and you recognized the familiar spark of despair in them. They looked just like yours every time you looked in the reflection. He was a mirror of you, just as you were a mirror of him.

“I was scared of losin’ you because of my job. I didn’t think a sweet thing like you deserved to be involved with a man like me. I didn’t want you hurt,” he explained, and the faintest crack in his voice showed you just how hard this was for him as well. You weren’t the only one suffering the consequences.

“Yet you hurt me anyway,” you whispered brokenly, and Simon deflated.

“I know,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I know, sweetheart. I let my fear control me, and it caused me to make things worse. It wasn’t fair t’you. I fucked up, and I’m so sorry.”

Your own resolve was faltering. You wanted so badly to be angry, to kick him out and be done with him. Strip him from your life and return to your days of wallowing in loneliness and misery.

You couldn’t. Every word was like a small bandaid over a too-big wound, but it was an attempt. He was trying. Nobody had ever tried with you before.

“Y’know,” you began, voice as soft as a whisper. “One of your boys came by to see me. Price.”

Simon blinked, surprise morphing on to his face. He swallowed anxiously, fists squeezing in his lap before he forced them to relax.

“And?”

You stared at him for a moment, shifting through your words in your mind.

“He tried to get me to cut you off. Tell you that I was better off, that I didn’t want you around anymore. He thought it would be best,” you finished quietly, shifting your eyes away from him in a moment of guilt. You weren’t sure why you were feeling it, but you’d recognize that uncomfortable lump in your throat anywhere. “I told him no.”

Simon’s eyebrows raised, eyes darting over your face to read your expression. “You did?”

“Yeah,” you confessed, shifting uncomfortably. “Told him… told him you didn’t deserve that.”

His heart ached painfully in his chest. What a lovely woman you were, defending him even after he had wronged you. How stupid he was for letting his own past misfortunes creep into the present.

He should be mad at Price for invading in on his personal business, but if he didn’t, Simon might not be here right now, kneeling before you and pleading for forgiveness. Price gave him an in, he gave him a chance, even if he went behind his back to do so.

Go and get your bird back, Simon.

It made sense now. Simon nearly laughed in bitter humor.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, finally gaining your gaze back. Your eyes had softened from their hardened walls you built back up again, and he prayed he had a chance. “I know it’s not goin’ to fix anythin’. You’re still angry with me, and you have every right t’be. But if you still decide to throw me out, to never speak t’me again, then I want you t’know that I love you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, chest pulling tight. A mixture of pain and relief coursed through your veins, and you weren’t sure which emotion to listen to. You weren’t sure what was right, but there was one thing you were sure of, and it was that you loved him, too. Heartbreakingly so.

“You do?” you whispered in uncertainty.

Simon rose from his kneeled position, taking a cautious step towards you. When you didn’t back away, he seized the opportunity to cradle your hands in his, holding them to his heart. “I do,” he repeated softly. “I’m not good at this, sweetheart. I’ve done a lot of terrible things. I’ve hurt people, I’ve killed people, yet loving somebody has always been the hardest thing to do. With you, it feels easy.”

You stared up at him, searching for any signs of dishonesty. What stared back at you was pure truth, his eyes flooding with a new light that promised love and confidence.

Taking a deep breath and a leap of faith, you responded, “I love you, too. Even though I should hate you.”

For the first time since seeing him, Simon smiled. It was a boyish smile, one you’d never seen before, and it lit your entire world up. The sun was back out, the flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, and nature was at peace. It tugged on your heartstrings and pulled away all of the hurt that had resided inside.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. It brought you back to the first time the two of you shared a kiss, and the memory was fond. Despite all of the troubles and heartache, Simon was true to his word. Even if the world had failed the two of you, now was the time to change life’s course and rewrite your own future.

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly.

Simon’s kiss was as familiar as before, but this time, it felt much more intimate. It was burning passion simmered down to tenderness, his hands cradling your face with the utmost care, treating you like frail china. He didn’t push or prod and instead moved with you rather than take control, letting you handle the reins this time.

It was a slow dance rather than a waltz, steady and unceasing.

“We’ll figure this out together, yeah?” he breathed against your lips, and you could feel the curl of his smile. You opened your eyes to peer into his own, unable to contain your own smile.

His lips returned to yours, and you melted into him. All that weight had been lifted so easily. All the rage had dissipated into nothing, being replaced with a warm, glowing light that filled your chest and threatened to burst.

This was all you wanted – to be content. To be happy.

You didn’t want to spend your days, awaiting an early death that would never come, nor did you want to waste it being burdened by the past that haunted you like a demonic spirit. This felt right.

When more and more feeling poured into the kiss, it shifted into something more starved, like two lovers who’d been separated for years. While you were falling into it, Simon was reluctant. Pulling away from you, you had a brief moment of uncertainty before he spoke.

“I don’t want to rush you like I did last time,” he explained gently. “The last thing I want is for you t’feel pressured. I’m not here for only that. M’here to fix this.”

“Simon,” you murmured, a warm smile on your face. “I know you aren’t. I want to do it. Is that okay?”

Simon stared at you for a moment, weighing out his options. While having sex was part of the reason the two of you ended up in this mess, it was the part after that really played a role. This time, things would be different.

“‘Course that’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured, returning your smile.

He was careful in guiding you to your room. While anxiety weighed heavy on his mind in messing things up further, he was determined to ensure that wouldn’t happen. The power was in his hands, and he’d use all of it in order to make you feel the love you deserve to feel.

Peeling off your clothes was a slow task. He took his time, reveling in the warmth of your skin, guiding his hands across every inch of flesh. He was worshiping you, showering you in praise and care. Sweet and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured affectionately, lips pressing to your cheek, then jaw, then down your neck. You were laid out for him on the bed, looking like a goddess bathed in light. “Don’t know what I did t’deserve you.”

“Simon,” you whispered, feeling tears spring in your eyes. Noticing, he lifted himself up, brushing the pad of his thumb softly over your cheek, swiping away the stray tear. He smiled down at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

He didn’t leave you waiting, but he certainly didn’t rush either. He worked diligently in stretching you open on his fingers, curling into that familiar spot that had your breath catching and your back arching beautifully. Your moans were spoken sonnets that blessed his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to hear them for the rest of his life.

Simon didn’t stop his notions, working you open until you were a squirming, crying mess, kissing away your tears while drowning in bashfulness at the sight of your pleasure. You deserved to feel good, and he’d die making sure of it.

When he lined himself up with you and slowly pressed his cock inside until he was at the hilt, buried in your moist warmth, he let out a blissful sigh, knocking his forehead against yours. He didn’t tear his eyes off of you, watching every flicker of euphoria that flashed in your eyes when he moved his hips. Unlike last time, his pace was slow yet firm, allowing you to bask in the delicious feeling of his cock pressing against the gummy walls of your cervix with every thrust.

“I love you,” he breathed through a sigh, brushing away a strand of hair that stuck in a sweaty mess to your forehead. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. M’so lucky.”

You whimpered as he showered you in praise, wiggling from under him. The pleasure mixed with brimming love had you close to orgasm, clenching around him in a vice. He panted with you, breath fanning your face, only getting cut off when he’d lean down to kiss you.

It was a wonderful display of intimacy. This wasn’t just sex. He wasn’t ruining you, he wasn’t leaving you broken. He was leaving you overflowing with promises that he had every intention of keeping.

Simon swallowed up your moans with lips pressed to yours, fucking you through your orgasm, whispering sweet encouragements. He filled you, sealing those promises, his spend mixing with yours and bringing the two of you together as one.

Breathless and spent, Simon tangled you in his arms and legs, holding you close to his chest so he could feel your warmth against him. It brought him comfort and security, like a blanket being lovingly placed over him and consuming him in a snug embrace.

It was silent for a long time after, but neither of you minded it. You relished in the feeling of one another, and words weren’t needed.

“You’re not going to leave after I fall asleep, are you?” you whispered, breaking the silence with a brief moment of weakness. Simon shifted his head to look down at you, lifting a hand to cradle your head and card his fingers in your hair.

“No, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You nodded against him, snuggling closer to him, cheek pressed against his chest.

“You weren’t here to see me make it to two weeks,” you said softly. Though the reminder hurt to hear, you held no resentment in your tone, which gave him a sense of relief.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized with a frown. When you peeked your head up to look at him, his eyes softened. It was like looking at the most beautiful thing crafted on this planet, and he had the absolute honor of calling it his.

“Maybe we can have a do-over,” you suggested, smiling cheekily at him. It enticed a laugh on his end, rumbling from his chest.

“How about instead of puttin’ a deadline on it this time, we keep count of the days that you wake up and accomplish seeing all the tomorrows. Deal?”

Your smile widened, and you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s a deal.”

IT'S OFFICIALLY OVER!!!! I am so sad because I had such an amazing time writing this fic and it will truly always be one of my favorites. so many of you enjoyed it and supported me through it, and I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've given me :,) I sincerely hope this ending is what everybody wanted and more. I love you all <3

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 2: food play | wolfstar

smut

TW: NSFW oral (fem receiving), fingering

You just came back from your date in Hogsmade, Remus was carrying a heavy bag full of candies, while Sirius held your hand. You didn’t quite understand why they decided to buy so many candies, but you thought it only made sense: it was Halloween season, there wasn’t such thing as too much sugar.

Once at their dormitory, you sprawled on their bed, while they locked the door. Soon, they were on the bed, one of them on either side of you.

"You look gorgeous, love" Remus was gazing into your eyes, making you blush slightly. Sirius trailed his hand slowly on your arm, then brushing his fingertips over the exposed skin below your navel, making you squirm: you couldn't help it, when you were near them, you always felt a deep rooted need.

You saw them exchanging a knowing look, before casting a silencing spell.

"Now love, are you going to be a good girl for us and undress?"

You nodded, slightly confused: they usually started off slowly, but you didn't mind them ordering you around, it was quite hot honestly.

You obeyed, unbottoning your jeans and taking off your shirt. You felt slightly exposed, they were dressed while you laid there in your panties and bra: you had to resist the urge to cover yourself.

"You look like an angel"

"Me and Remus had an idea" Sirius cut him off, getting up to pick up a pack of his favourite gummies and one of chocolates.He looked at you with a devilish grin "Now, love, you will stay very still for us, and we will make you feel so good" You nodded frantically.

Remus picked up the bag of chocolates, opening it with his teeth. He then proceeded to work on the front clasp of your bra, exposing your breasts.

"So beautiful" You blushed, waiting for their next move. The fact that you didn’t have a clue on their plans made you even more aroused, the power dynamic making you nearly feverish with need.

Remus started to position the sweet treats all around your nipples and in the valley between your breasts. Every touch made you want to squirm, but you knew that you couldn't, they said to stay put.

Sirius covered the line from your breasts to your mound in candies. "We thought of a little game. We’re going to play with you, but if you let even one of these candies fall, your orgasm will be denied, so stay put, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes I understand"

Sirius fingertips grazed your clit slightly: you knew he was testing the waters, wanting to know how much you were willing to obey. You stayed still, even though your body begged to squirm, you didn't.

He then put a little more pressure on it, while Remus started to suck on the chocolate right next to your left nipple, then dragging it on your chest, writing an "R" on it. Every touch seemed to be amplified; the soft texture of the gummies being dragged on your sensitive skin made you feel on fire.

Sirius lowered his head on the candy right above your most sensitive area and sucked on it. Then, slowly, he dragged it right on your clit, applying even more pressure.

You knew you couldn’t move, and you hated them for this, because they knew how responsive you were to their touch. You’ve always hated being restrained, but now you wish you were, that way you wouldn’t be thinking about staying still and actually enjoy their touches.

“Now love, you seem a little distracted, we should do something about it” Remus then started teasing and sucking your right nipple, his other hand now pinching the other one. He knew how sensitive you were. He stopped to chew on the chocolate, winking down at you, then resuming to kiss your skin.

Meanwhile, Sirius had lowered his head on your core, and was beginning to suck on your clit, while his index finger teased your whole slightly.

If they kept this up, you were sure you were bound to come soon, the stimulation being nearly overwhelming.

“I’m… Sirius”

“Aw, you’re about to come already, love?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, they both stopped touching you altogether, making you whine desperately. “Remi, she tastes sweeter than usual, you should really try”

Remus reached for Sirius collar, and they started to make out right above you, the sight of them together so hot, you thought you might come by just watching them.

After a while, they finally went back to focusing on you, switching positions. “Angel, you were so good  for  us, we’ll let you come now”

Remus started sucking your clit, while Sirius entered you with one of his fingers, and you soon felt the orgasm nearing, they sensed it. “Let go for us, love. You’ve been such a good  girl, listening  to us. Come for us, angel”

And you did, Sirius kissing you while they both worked you through it, stopping when you clearly got overstimulated.

As soon as you got your breath under control, you opened your eyes. "Wow, that was-"

"We know, we're the best boyfriends ever, you got so lucky, yada yada, now come here, we're going to have hot shower sex" Sirius picked you up, throwing you on his shoulder, taking off for the bathroom.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky

[trashmouth-richie]

Request for choke me bite me where reader goes on a date or also gets a bf and eddie sees reader kissing him and the guy palming her ass and eddie is seething with fury and teaches reader a lesson with those handcuffs. 😏

CHOKE ME BITE ME for reference, can be read as alone I looove this idea thank you anon ❤️🤍🖤 and to @lunatictardis for the req that started this all 💋💋

[part iii]

eddie x fem!reader

W.C 2.4k | TW: NO MINORS handcuffs, blow job, mentions of drug use, p in v sex, cheating

You don’t notice him. Don’t even think twice about him being here. After all, he doesn't work here. You haven’t seen him in weeks, must mean that things were all peaches and cream with him and her.

The aisles at Family Video provide just enough privacy for your date, Andy, to sneak in some kisses, grab your ass a little bit as you pick out a movie. Dinner had been great. Having been to Enzo’s only one time prior with your parents you couldn’t believe how sweet he was. Bringing you flowers, opening the car door for you, paying for your dinner. It was the perfect night, hoping it would end with a little bit of kissing on your couch as you watched the latest comedy. His mouth is nuzzled against your neck, hand traveling up the back of your skirt as you pick out the movie, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. A quick glance around has your greatest fear bubbling to the surface, spewing jealousy bits of rage stands Eddie, leaning against the counter his face twisted into a glare.

You’re certain you’ve never seen his eyes more black than they are now. His nostrils are flared, ringed hand clenched tight against a smooth package of peanut m&ms. He’s fuming fucking mad, slamming his hand against the counter and stomping out of the store the little bell dinging as the door flies open, nearly busting off its hinges. You find yourself breathing again, a small soaked circle in your panties. Embarrassed by the effect Eddie has on you, you almost wince, you’re imagining his hands on you, slapping your ass, holding your cheeks, grabbing at you tits, and stuffed inside your pussy.

“Can’t wait to get you home,” Andy coos in your ear. You turn to him and smile, grabbing the first movie you see and heading to the counter to check out. Steve Harrington is laughing at something, shaking his head lightly as he rings up the movie.

“Any candy?”

You shake your head as Andy hands Steve a $5 bill, “ready?”

“Absolutely,” you grin to him, cursing yourself after clenching your thighs together begging for any sort of friction after seeing Eddie. You shouldn’t be focused on him, he has a girlfriend. Andy is sweeter than sugar, and you knew you were the only girl he was currently talking to.

Holding the door open for you, you climb into his Jeep, the leather cool against your bare legs. He slides into the drivers seat and cocks a smile at you, turning the key into the ignition. But nothing happens, he tries again, still nothing. “What the hell?” he asks, “uhh hang on I’m gonna go inside and call my dad.”

“Okay,” you say, smoothing your skirt and crossing your legs, “I’ll be here.” He smiles at you and you politely smile back.

Not even a minute goes by before the door is ripped open and there stands Eddie, leaning in, eyebrows pulled together, lips in a firm straight line. “Let’s go.” He barks.

You are flabbergasted, a burning ache makes its way to your core, pulsing.

“Eddie, what are you doing?”

“Don’t play dumb sweetheart, and don’t make me tell you twice. Now.”

“I’m on a date,” you sneer, “Andy is just going to c— ”

You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before Eddie is hauling you up into his arms and slinging you over his shoulder. “Edward Munson! Put me down!”

His heavy boots are stomping towards his van, a large ringed hand comes down hard on the fat of your ass, stinging lightly. “Not another word.” You whine into his back, trying to lift yourself off of him but he’s got a tight hold around you.

He plops you down on the passenger seat in the van, running a hand from the inside of your knee straight to your soaked panties. He lets out a low groan, he hooks your panties out of the way and shoves a thick finger in your dripping folds harshly. You gasp at the sudden pressure, sucking him in tight with your gummy walls. He pops his finger out and pulls it into his mouth, sucking lightly, rolling his eyes, relishing in the taste of you. “..fuck,” he mutters, “never learn, do you?” He shuts your door with a slam and jumps in, revving up the van and heading towards Forest Hills Trailer Park.

Your heart is racing, part of you loves when he acts like this, so rough and animalistic it drives you insane. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel, speeding through town, blowing through stop signs and every turn way too fast. He’s deranged, furious, but so are you. “Can I just ask what the fuck you think you’re doing?” He turns to you, jaw unhinged and his tongue pressed thickly to his cheek, those dark eyes blistering into yours.

“Don’t start.”

“No I mean it Eddie! I was on a nice date with a nice guy and you fucking ruined it!”

He smirks and rolls his eyes. “You really think you were gonna get fucked the way you like? That clown doesn’t know the first thing about sex. He cries whenever we have to change for P.E.”

The truth was that he was pissed off, so fucking enraged with jealousy that he couldn’t see straight. You were dumbfounded, pouting with your hands crossed over your chest, leg bouncing with irritation.

Pulling up to his trailer he throws the van in park and kills the engine. He takes a deep breath inhaling through his nose. “I’m going to treat you like the brat you are.” He’s quick in his movements, coming around and dragging you out of the van by your wrist. He wastes no time, shoving the door to the trailer open and walking fast to his room. The thrill of making him mad is pulsing through your body, throbbing in your pussy as he comes unglued.

Eddie’s mind slips into darkness, thinking of all the ways he’s going to punish you. Spank you so hard his rings leave welts into your skin, pouring hot wax down your back, as he fucks your tight asshole, slapping you until his hand was a permanent print on your face. He was furious, absolutely going to go fucking feral on you, leave his teeth marks indented into your skin, a perfect dental record.

He’s breathing hard into your face, “you drive me insane you know that? Going out with someone else, watching him baby you when all you want is to be treated like the slut you a— ”

You’ve never slapped him before, or anyone. It should have come as no surprise when he catches your hand right before it lands on his face, he shoves you back into the wall, both hands above your head with a smug smile dancing on his lips, “you wanna try that again, sweetheart?” His tongue forces its way into your mouth, biting down hard against your lip, you moan into his mouth, ghosting your tongue against his. He reaches up and grabs the handcuffs hanging from the wall. Setting them on a finger and twirling them around, his hips grind into yours, you can feel his cock rubbing against you—straining against the denim of his jeans.

“You think,” Eddie starts, tightening the cold metal of the handcuffs to your left wrist, “that you can go out with someone else,” he yanks you forward, grabbing the other set of handcuffs and placing them on your right wrist so tight they dig into your skin, “and I wouldn’t find out?”

He pushes you on the mattress, straddling you as he hooks each end to the bedpost. “I see everything, I know everything,” he says, clicking the last handcuff in place. He leans forward hovering over your heaving chest, “way more than poor Andy does,” he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a spark plug. Your eyes go wide.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh I did,” he says, ripping your shirt open exposing your naked chest. “You see sweetheart,” he begins, closing his mouth along your nipple, teasing it with his tongue and grazing his teeth around it, “when you grow up poor, you have to fix things yourself, and you learn by pulling shit out, and finding out how it work,” his fingers roll your other nipple like a joint. You whimper loudly beneath him. “I thought for sure he would have figured it out, but just in case he was too goddamn dumb,” Eddie pushes up your skirt and uses his teeth to work your panties down your legs, “I had Harrington unplug the phones, so no matter what baby, you would definitely not have been going home with 2 inch Andy tonight. Because he’s walking his ass across Hawkins right now, wondering where you are, and why his car doesn’t work.”

“You’re a bastard, Eddie Munson.” You spit jokingly, shoving your legs closed and huffing loudly, annoyed yet secretly pleased that he would go to such lengths to have you.

“The one and only, babe.” Eddie pries your legs open and dives head first into your pussy. Lapping at your leaking folds as if he was starved. He groans into you holding you still with his hands tight around your legs, fingers cramped into your legs likely to leave bruises. You’ve never been wetter, never wanted him more than tonight. Everything he said was true. Nobody fucked you the way he did. Not even close.

Tongue pressed deep in your pussy you whimper out his name, begging pleading for him. “That’s right, keep crying out my name sweetheart.” He adds a thick finger into your craved hole, pumping relentlessly as you clench around him. He circles your clit with his tongue, flicking faster and faster, a second finger is added and you cry out. Chest heaving as you take ragged breaths. Curling his fingers into your spongey core your orgasm snaps and flutters around him, back curved from the bed as you come hard around his fingers.

“Eddie,” you moan, “I want you.”

“Sure you don’t want Andy?” He scoffs, grabbing your face tightly, “beg for me, tell me how much you want me.”

“Please Eddie, I want you so fucking bad, all the time.”

“No one else?”

“No.”

He undoes your handcuffs, kissing your wrists where they’re red. He helps you sit and looks deep into your eyes, “Show me.”

Eddie stands from the bed, unzipping his pants, and shoving them down his legs, a pearl bead of precum is pooling on his cock. “I want that pretty whore mouth of yours around my cock as you beg for me.” You kneel before him,licking a broad strip from his balls and up his shaft, keeping eye contact as you suck him into your mouth. His huge cock fills your throat, you don’t dare try to gag, having learned that one the hard way. “Christ,” he moans, throwing his head back as you twirl your tongue at his balls, throat stuffed. He’s pumping his hips into you, drool is dripping down your chin and along your naked tits.

He would never tell you this, never let you know that she has never done this for him, never once divulged the way you do for him. Seeing you tonight with someone else drove him absolutely mad. The thought of sharing you with someone unworthy of your body, your mouth, that God for shaken bratty fucking attitude that he couldn’t get enough of, was hell for him. She was fucking around on him there was no doubt in his mind. Clearly he was too, neither of them were perfect. He wasn’t sure why they were still together. All he knew is that seeing you on that date was the small push he needed to admit to himself that you meant more to him than just a fuck after a fight.

He’s biting his lower lip, trying to keep himself from coming too soon, but the way you are hollowing out your cheeks sends him over the edge. He comes hard, painting your throat with his arousal, whimpering your name as you suck him dry, leaving nothing behind. He slides out of your mouth with a hiss, he fully intended on you being his fuck rag tonight. Using your body to his advantage until you couldn’t walk or sit up straight.

“Fuck that mouth of yours is so goddamn good,” he helps you to your feet and kisses you unexpectedly. He tosses you a clean shirt from his closet. “I’m starving, are you hungry?”

“No I ate, Enzo’s” you say throwing his shirt over your head, inhaling his smoky scent.

“Oh a fancy fucker isn’t he?”

You roll your eyes, “jealous are we?”

“Of that pencil dick? Nah.” he says, shaking his brown curls, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you close to him. “Besides, you know damn well that he wouldn’t make you come that fast.” He flicks his tongue wildly and sucks a bruise into your neck, blowing a raspberry to finish it off.

“Eddie!” You giggle squirming to get away from him.

You end up spending the night— it’s the first time you have, usually he reserves that right to her. Smoking a joint you ride Eddie slowly, rolling your hips around him, pushing back his sweaty bangs, his hands pinching your nipples. The next morning he brings you to school, you’re still wearing the shirt he gave you lastnight, and his signature purpling hickies on your neck and thighs.

Driving past Family Video, Eddie almost chokes on his pop tart. He’s coughing and spitting bits of pastry everywhere pointing out your window. “Look!” He finally manages.

Andy and his dad are bent over the front end with the hood up on the Jeep, both puzzled as to why it won’t start. A tow truck pulls into the parking lot. “Goddamn that is funny, I think I’ll leave the spark plug in his locker as a thank you.” He smiles wickedly at you as he squeezes your thigh. Laughing loudly and driving like a bat out of hell.

[shrimplymoray]

After a while of trying, I ended up uninstalling Twitter again. That app is not for me lmao.

On the other hand, though, I am feeling quirky and want to make a new HCs post of creepypasta. So...

Creepypasta characters soft spots*

Featuring: Jeff the Killer, Jane Everlasting, Nina the Killer, Homicidal Liu, Sully, BEN, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Laughing Jill, Candy Pop, Jason the Toymaker

* bear in mind I make them a tad bit fucked up in the head, so beware (though it IS Creepypasta)

Tw: slightly graphic canibalism description, mentions of abandonment trauma, canon like control freakiness on Jason's part

Jeff The Killer - expressiveness and not being easily intimidated

Jeff is a pretty... Expressive guy, to not say a huge asshole with a big ego. And even though he might not say it, he does admire someone being expressive. It took him a long time (and a mental breakdown) to start expressing himself how he wanted to. If he meets someone that is expressive be it verbally or physically, he will end up circling around them more often than others.

Hand in hand with that, if the person is not easily intimidated and has the courage to talk him out of his mean comments, he might as well ask to be friends with them. As much as he denies it, he enjoys not scaring someone by being himself from time to time.

Jane Everlasting - housekeeping skills and good music taste

Jane is not the easiest person to get along with. However, if you know how to work a stove, and knows that x product is better at cleaning windows than y, she finds than entertaining. She misses Mary so much, and having someone that reminds her of Mary, it warms her on the inside.

This is more of her being a bit of a nitpick, but she despises having to deal with screamo or those techno songs. She deals with it too much from the others, so having the chance to listen to classic romantic ballads, or some soft Jazz while reading a book, by her fave person's side, and not having a complaint at all? That's a dream. One that seems so far away to her reality, being near so many emos

Nina the Killer - foot on earth and alternative fashion

If you stayed even 5 minutes with Nina, you would understand why she appreciates someone hard on reality. Nina is easily enthusiastic and also impulsive as fuck. So having someone to keep her from breaking the whole house down, or to make sure she doesn't throw someone out of the second floor window, it really helps her out in the end, and she knows it.

Nina, although she is slowly getting better at keeping this down, is still a bit obsessed with Jeff, so alternative styles like emo and her beloved Scene style, it makes her feel like she is right up her alley. She would pick matching fits for you two, and also make a whole blog just for pictures of you two with very 2000s core stuff. Plus: hot topic dates.

Homicidal Liu - respectfulness and good cooking skills

Liu has gone through a lot of traumatic events, all his life. Some he holds the memories, after alter fusion, and others... Not so much. But what he does know is that disrespect towards his person, and what he has gone through, is something he doesn't want to go through never again. So being respectful, in the sense of not narrowing him to DID guy, or to murderer, it makes him genuinely happy.

Liu misses his family, even though it wasn't the best family. It's been 11 years since he lost all his family, so sometimes he will try cooking food that his parents used to make. However he... Is not the best cook. He tries, he really does, but it's not his thing. So having someone put the time and effort to do this small act, of cooking him the food that he misses since a teen, it makes him have butterflies. Plus, seeing his lover in an apron sounds cute in his mind.

Sully - strong morals and dark humor

Sully may share a body with Liu, but he is still his own person, as an alter. And most importantly he is the system protector. It is his role to make sure no more trauma is suffered. So, having a lover that understand that and agrees with him, it is a sight to behold to him. And most importantly, having someone that understands and respects the boundaries he puts, which are many, is important for him.

Now... The system is rather small, and so Sully is a trauma holder alter. But... His method of coping with that trauma is mostly through dark humor. Jokes about his trauma done by him or the body, is the way he knows how to cope and, in his eyes, not turn into a monster like Jeff, which he despises. Having someone letting him indulge in his not healthy but necessary coping mechanism, and even joking around with their own problems, it ends up in a great pair for him.

B.E.N._drowned - Sass, nerdiness and night owl

BEN is not really a human, and although he sometimes can be very human like due to the Moonchildren Souls, the one in control is still the Behavioral Environment Network. So he has the power to be as mean as he wants and not feel remorse. Though as a behavioral AI, he can react in many ways depending what his code finds most fitting. He didn't start liking sass, but after being around Jeff and collecting data to act based on that, besides the souls, he ended up sassy, and enjoys now having sass thrown back at him. It is a familiar environment, which is something he sometimes need.

He is based around on TLOZ, and his souls had that common interest besides other games, so of course he wants a gamer to fit with him. He doesn't sleep, so having someone also be a night owl and stay the whole night spending time with him, letting him learn their functions and behavior, it makes him enthusiastic, as much as malevolent code can be.

Eyeless Jack - Patience and a hard stomach

Jack, different than a lot of the others, didn't want to be here at first. And as such he isn't the easiest to approach, sometimes being plainly reclusive, and others being aggressive. Having patience but still perseverance to approach him at his own time, and let things go in his time, it makes him trust you even more.

Jack, as we all know, is a human eating being. Not sure cannibal is the right term since he isn't a human anymore, but I'll use it for now. As a cannibal, it is not easy to be around him sometimes. He is not afraid to eat in front of others if needed, or to harvest organs out of a human carcass. If you can endure at least the putrid smell of organs and blood, than you will find EJ to not be he worst to be around.

Laughing Jack - playfulness and clingyness

LJ is, as we all know I assume, a clown! So what would I clown like to be around? People who know how to have fun, of course! Playful battering, joking around, a good sense for a performance, this are all things that, summed by playfulness, make Jack feel alive. The feeling of succeeding at making his lover laugh till their cheeks turn red, it is a sight to behold to him, so having a good sense of playfulness makes things a lot easier.

On the other hand, Jack was once abandoned for years in his toy box. He grew to feel lonely, sometimes even around others. Having someone being close to him, even when not the best option to do so, and the feeling of being wanted all times. It does magic to the clown.

Laughing Jill - good sense of humor and optimism

Jill, like Jack, is a big clown lady and as such, she loves to make people laugh and have fun! She isn't the fondest of the more mean plays, but she does love striking jokes around, so having a good sense of humor is the best option of a pair for her!

Although she was made to be happy and make others happy, she can have negative emotions too. But having someone that will make sure to let her know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and give her the care she gives to others, it is truly special for her.

Candy Pop - chaotic nature and being laid back

Candy is to an extent a genie like entity. And as such, they love to bring chaos, and distort stuff to their amusement. And as such, having someone that matches their personality is what they want. C'mon, who doesn't want to see what can happen if they inflate their head like a balloon? I do.

As such, someone strict to the rules, and someone that wants them to be in line at all times bore them if not anger them. They need some semblance of freedom. Being laid back, doing your stuff when they do theirs, and uniting forces to end get out of trouble, that's love to them.

Jason the Toymaker - size difference and art appreciation

Jason is someone that likes to feel in control of any and all situation. He is a manipulators, so making sure he is the one up top, it's what he wants ever and ever. Having someone smaller than him, it gives him a semblance of control, even if only illusory. It plays in his control freakiness.

As a toymaker, he is an artisan. He loves to create intricate toys, which are pieces of art in itself. Having someone that appreciates it and praises him for it, it boosts his already inflated ego. He might plainly squeeze you for your praises, as a thank you.

That's all I got for now, might do some others plus the proxies on another post.

Reminder that it is cool if you don't agree or like these, y'all can have your own opinions and it is very valid! This is how I like the characters (aka sick in the head).

[oliversrarebooks]

roger, whats it like being fitz's thrall? (aka how does it feel to be living my dream... im not jealous... totally not living vicariously through you...)

Masterlist

January 1922

TW: mind control, conditioning, blood drinking mentions of past abuse, fear of death

"You have to get up, sir." 

Roger gently shook the lump of tangled blankets and sheets that most likely contained a vampire at its core. The only real indication that his master was within was the soft groan from inside, a mumble that sounded a lot like "leave me alone."

"I can't leave you alone, sir. You have a show at 7, remember? If you don't rise and shine soon, you won't have enough time to do your hair and makeup and make it to the theater."

"Uggggggh. Why'd I schedule a show so goddamned early? What is wrong with me?" The pile of blankets huddled in on itself more tightly.

"...I suspect there may be several things, sir," said Roger, unable to resist the obvious opening and knowing that a bit of banter might put his master in a better mood. "Regardless, you did schedule the show, and you do need to leave the house for it."

"Horrible. Torturous. Excruciating." The bedclothes rustled, and Fitz poked his head out just enough to take a look. "It's so early that the sun is leaking around the curtains! The sun could kill me, Roger, you can't expect me to get up in those conditions. I could die."

"I believe that's what the curtains are for, sir. To prevent you from dying when you're unjustly forced to wake up during the day." Roger sat down on the side of the bed. He'd done this often enough to know when he was in for the long haul, and he was quite capable of patience -- a good quality to have when serving Fitz. "You were looking forward to this show, weren't you? It's a large venue, and you have your new rotating box trick."

"Mmm."

"I'm sure it will go over splendidly, sir, and you'll be afforded all the praise and applause you deserve," he said. Cheap flattery rarely failed to soften his master's mood. "Aren't you looking forward to seeing the looks of delight on your audience's faces when you perform your new trick? And besides that, aren't you looking forward to being paid?"

Fitz seemed to be lowering both his blankets and his guard. "I suppose so..."

"Excellent. Then forgive me for this, sir." Roger grabbed the covers and pulled them away, as his master produced a sound not unlike a dying cat.

With lightning fast reflexes, the blankets were wrenched from Roger's grasp, and Fitz was clutching them to himself and huddling in the middle of the bed. "How could you? How could my own thrall do such a thing? Heartless, you're simply heartless." He curled up under the blankets and stubbornly closed his eyes as if to go back to sleep.

"Of the two of us, sir, it's technically you who is heartless." Roger sighed. It was always most difficult to wake Fitz in the dead of winter. The long nights enticed his master to stay out too late sampling the city's nightlife, and the cold made him especially reluctant to leave his chambers, which, thanks to the radiators, were as hot as a furnace.

He reached down to the blankets, intending to tug on them again. This time, despite Fitz pretending to sleep, he was faster than Roger, and grasped his wrist.

Roger felt a delicious, drowsy warmth coming from his master's touch, filling his mind with cotton candy haze. It was blissfully dreamy and intoxicating, and, most dangerously, it was sleep-inducing, enticing him to shut his weary eyes and rest.

"Go back to sleep, Roger," Fitz lulled. "Curl up here. Keep me warm..."

Roger was swaying on the spot, eyelids drooping, rapidly losing himself to enchanted slumber -- but he'd been caught by this trap on plenty of occasions, and each time it ended with Fitz regretful that he'd overslept and missed his obligations. It was that memory that kept Roger just awake enough to wrench his arm away and mostly free himself from his master's dangerous temptation. Fitz was making sad little grabbing motions as Roger moved out of range of his hands.

"I'm afraid that if you wish to use your powers on me, you'll have to leave your bed to do so, sir," said Roger, standing several feet away. "The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can get to the pleasant business of washing up." They both knew that it was a bluff. Roger had been under Fitz's thrall for many years now, and his master didn't need hypnotic touch to compel him, body and soul. But it was a bluff that usually worked.

"Fine, fine, you win." With one final dramatic groan, Fitz threw off the covers and sat up. "I'll take my shower, then. But I expect you to attend to me when I'm finished."

"Of course, sir." Roger watched as his master stumbled into the bathroom, and in a moment he could hear the sound of running water and upbeat humming. Fitz loved long, warm showers as much as he loved rolling around lazily in bed. He'd spend at least a half-hour relaxing in the steamy waters and performing his elaborate and ever-changing skin care routine, one which involved enough distinct products as to cover most of the vanity table.

This gave Roger plenty of time to make the perpetually disheveled bed, the foot-high pile of blankets, and the mountain of pillows in every shape and size. He made quick work of it, picked up the dirty clothes that had been tossed on the floor yesterday morning. 

Housekeeping was Roger's primary responsibility apart from providing blood and humoring Fitz's varied whims. With only the two of them in a reasonably sized flat, it wasn't especially difficult or time-consuming compared to when he'd lived on his own, before he'd been snatched off the street by a vampire. He'd even come to enjoy the simple chores. He wasn't sure how much of that was due to his own feelings or to Fitz's coercion -- his master grasping his shoulders and softening Roger's mind, whispering to him how much he loved to serve.

Really, it hardly mattered any more.

When he'd finished tidying up, Roger got down to the business of setting out his master's clothes. Serving Fitz was really about anticipating his moods more than anything else. With a large venue, he'd want something particularly flashy -- something on the warmer side for a chill day -- deep blue, perhaps?

The door to the bathroom cracked open, Roger's signal to enter.

The steam was blinding, mixed with the almost overwhelming scent of flowers, as Roger entered. Fitz was fussing with his hair, as usual, despite not being able to see it in the mirror. "You simply must help me out with this," he said.

"Of course, sir," said Roger, taking the comb from him. This was a ritual they performed nearly every night Fitz went out. Even as the years went by and Fitz grew from a young vampire to a seasoned one, he still seemed so irritated at not being able to see himself in the mirror, sometimes requiring excessive reassurance from Roger that he was still handsome.

Tonight, though, his master seemed deep in his own head as Roger ran the comb through his hair, taking some pomade in hand to smooth it back. He pulled the longer hair into a neat tail, the sort of style usually reserved for unsavory sorts, but then, Fitz didn't mind presenting himself as a bit unsavory. Roger's tense shoulders relaxed as faint hypnotic power flowed from his master's proximity, fogging his mind at the same time it increased his desire to help fix Fitz's brooding.

"Is everything all right, sir?"

Fitz seemed startled back into the waking world by the question. "Of course," he said with his fake smile plastered firmly to his face. "Just running through the show in my head. If I'm going to be dragged out of my bed and into the cold this early, it had better be worth it."

"I'm sure it will be, sir. You're looking quite handsome this evening."

"Obviously," he said, lacking the usual cheer that punctuated their banter.

With Fitz's hair squared away, the two then left the bathroom for Roger to assist dressing him. "While the rest of this outfit is acceptable, this bowtie is just not..." Fitz seemed to be fishing around, thinking of what could be wrong with the bowtie, clearly eager to find some minor fault to distract himself from his own worries. "It's blue, isn't it? You can't have blue on a night that's already cold and gloomy, that won't do. It must be red. The color of excitement and passion!"

"I don't know what I was thinking, sir," Roger deadpanned, picking up the blue bowtie that Fitz had tossed aside and fetching one of his half-a-dozen red ones.

Fitz allowed Roger to fit him with the new selection. "That's why you should leave the thinking to me."

"I'm not so sure about that, sir."

That got a genuine smile from his master. "Come now, when has that ever not worked out?" he said. "With this outfit and your expert attention to my hair, I'm sure tonight's show will be an absolute triumph."

"There's not a single doubt in my mind, sir."

As Roger adjusted his master's cummerbund, Fitz leaned in a bit more, in an unsubtle fashion. The undercurrent of tension Roger had felt all night bloomed into something more recognizable: hunger. His master desired his blood, and, as always, Roger felt himself falling into a pleasurable daze, one where all thoughts fled from his mind apart from offering himself to his master.

"I think I'll need to feed from you when I return. You don't mind, do you?" Fitz whispered in his ear.

"No, master," said Roger, shivering involuntarily. "It's my pleasure to serve you."

"And it's my pleasure to feed," he said, grinning with his fangs bared. "Yes, I think that'll be just the thing to lift my spirits. Something to look forward to after the show."

"Yes, sir. I'll also look forward it." He meant that -- he had long since given up being troubled by his desire for vampiric feedings. He'd felt that desire even for his previous master's painful, harsh feedings, and it was far easier to accept Fitz's gentle trance of bliss.

A few minutes later and Roger had wrangled a semi-unwilling vampire into two layers of winter coat and sent him on his way. Sometimes Roger went along with Fitz to the theater, to help with makeup or hair or just for support purposes, but just as often he was left behind to his own devices. 

He didn't mind either way. It was nice to have a few hours to himself. He often spent the bulk of the time painting, something he'd never gotten to do much of even before he was taken by vampires. He wanted to eat breakfast first, though, especially given that his master might be feeding later.

Roger did hope he was. Sometimes he instead chose to feed on his volunteer from the audience, and that was always a bit of a disappointment, denying Roger the opportunity to fulfill his primary purpose in life. But Fitz seemed interested in feeding at home, and if he was going to do that, it would behoove Roger to be well-fed.

Soon enough, a generous portion of ham and eggs was sizzling on the stove. Fitz had made a promise early on that he'd always keep Roger fed, and although he forgot and broke promises all the time, he hadn't broken that one. Unlike his previous master, he never punished Roger with starvation -- a particularly spiteful punishment, since it also seemed to lower the quality of Roger's blood. His previous master did seem to enjoy punishment more than feedings.

When Roger's former master had been destroyed in a duel, Roger had assumed he was going from bad to worse. That feeling had grown stronger when he'd been dragged to a secondhand thrall appraiser and his worth was assessed at far lower than it had been when he'd first been bought. At the time, Roger had been little better than a beaten dog, cringing at every sound, barely daring to speak or think. He'd lost hope for anything better.

And, well, Fitz was far from the savior he'd often imagined during those days. He was still a vampiric master, a dramatic one whose moods changed like the wind. He could still effortlessly control Roger's mind, and he made Roger do all the chores in the house. Roger still wasn't free.

But rather than beatings and torture, Fitz's "punishments" generally amounted to snippy words and extra chores. There was always food, and he was allowed to paint and read and relax. His master might have a terrible habit of tossing out every piece of clothing in his closet when choosing what to wear and then telling Roger to clean it all up, but compared to what life had been like...

He hoped that Fitz came home safe. He'd strongly prefer to not change hands again, even if it meant dragging a protesting vampire out of bed each night for the rest of his life.

Roger had busied himself painting a bird from an illustration in a nature book when he heard the front door creak. "It's goddamn cold out there! Windy, too."

"Welcome home, sir," said Roger, helping his master out of his frigid coats. He was pleased to see Fitz in a better mood than when he'd left. "I take it your show went well?"

"Of course! Didn't you say there wasn't a single doubt in your mind?" he said with a grin as he kicked off his shoes, leaving Roger to line them up neatly in the shoe rack. "The crowd loved it! The spinning box trick is a real winner -- I just need to think of some ways to jazz it up further -- perhaps doing up the box in spangles to really dazzle them..." 

He shook himself out of his train of thought, seeming to remember Roger was there. "All of that applause did have me work up an appetite, though," he said, stepping close and brushing his hand against Roger's. Roger could feel the influence flowing through him, stoking his need for the feeding. "Why don't you go start the fire? That and your blood will provide me with some warmth tonight, I think."

So he was going to feed. Roger tried to keep his face neutral to preserve a scrap of dignity. "Very good, sir."

Roger allowed himself to hum a bit of a jaunty tune as he stacked wood in the fireplace and lit the kindling, using the bellows to raise the fire higher. He could hear his master making a commotion in the bathroom, likely getting out of his fine clothes and washing off the stage makeup. By the time Fitz arrived in the parlor, the fire was crackling merrily.

"Ahhhhh," said Fitz, sprawling out onto the old leather couch and beckoning Roger close. "This is the life, isn't it, Roger?"

"It certainly is, sir."

"Well, I suppose I'm not technically alive. The point still stands."

His master put his hand to Roger's cheek, and Roger sank into the mind-numbing bliss that came from his power, the familiar sense of captivation and contentment. As always, he could feel his master's desire to feed, and as he dropped deeper into a trance, his hands came up to unbutton his shirt and pull his collar away.

"You really are an excellent thrall," said Fitz, and Roger soaked in both the praise and the sense of security that came from pleasing his master. "Now just relax and let me have what I need."

Sharp fangs punctured the old scars that would never heal, and Roger's pliable mind slipped further as his master began to drink. There was nothing but bliss and contentment and hunger and need --

-- and, as always when his master was anxious, the sound of ticking clocks and the undercurrent of a lonely void.

Perhaps the good reception to his show hadn't brightened his mood as much as Roger had thought.

Fitz drank hungrily as if to fill that void with his thrall's blood, and Roger could feel his senses buckling, his vision tunneling and his eyelids growing heavy. His master was overdrinking again. "Sir," Roger managed to say as he fought to stay awake. "Sir -- sir, you're --"

"Oh!" His master mercifully stopped. "Damn it, I'm sorry, Roger. I don't mean to do that, you know I don't."

"I know you don't," Roger parroted in a dazed voice, slumping against his master's shoulder, allowing his eyes to close now that the danger had passed.

Someday, his master was probably going to kill him. He'd drink too much blood, and Roger would fail to stop him in time, collapsing into his master's arms and closing his eyes for the last time.

But tonight was not that night, and Roger was glad of it.

Masterlist

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

[jo-com]

PARK SUNGHOON IMAGINE

Jake’s Sister

A/n: this is my first post here and my work are not professional, i just do it for fun, i also post in my wattpad acc. Sorry if this suck ass, thanks for reading though. My requests are open.

Tw: SMUT IF UR UNCOMFORTABLE PLS DONT READ! MNDI!

Synopsis: You were forbidden to date you're brothers best friend but sunghoon was too hard to resist.. SMUT MNDI!!

"Fuck baby, more please" sunghoon groaned at your eagerness and thrusted more into you, drilling his hips to yours harshly. You were for sure seeing stars as the knot in your stomach was going undone any second now. You bit on your lower lips to try and hold the moans that were coming out of your mouth. He then grabbed your face and run his thumbs on your lips. They were starting to bleed from being bitten down, and not going to lie that turned him on even more.

"No, I want to hear you" his voice was hoarse and was out of breath, just like yours. He grabbed your chin and kissed your lips roughly, biting and licking on those sweet lips as if it were a candy that he'd been craving forever.

The two of you have been on it for awhile now, you've come three times already whereas sunghoon was just getting started.

You moaned into the kiss and gripped the sheets tighter, your knuckles were now turning white from holding on the sheets for a while. His thrust didn't slow down but was getting fast with each passing second, the sound of skin clapping filled the steamy dim lit room.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" you repeatedly moaned as his hips collided with yours, your mind was blank, only the thought of his big cock drilling into you made your head spin. Sunghoon's hand gripped your hips that you know for sure was going to leave a mark afterwards, you followed onto his actions and clash into his hips making a euphoric feeling between the two of you.

"Ah shit, fuck i am close", his hand snaked up to your chest and pinched your nipples, playing and tugging on those buds earning a gasp from you. Your expression encouraged him to torture them more. He lowered his head and bit down onto your chest and sucking it, leaving a few marks behind, you tried so hard not to moan out loud but failed miserably when his mouth played with your buds eagerly.

"Hoon.. ah iam close too" was the only thing you muttered up with the little energy you have left.

"Show me how badly you want to come baby"he stopped his actions and slipped out of you making you cry out for the sudden emptiness as he sat up on the bed, his head were now laid on your headboard and his body laying flat on the bed waiting for you to ride it.

Your weak body crawled up onto his and sat up his lap. Sunghoon's hand guided your hips to slowly lower down his dick. A moan slipped pass your mouth,  hissing at the feeling of him filling you up, even after doing it many times you were still not used to his size.

"Oh fuck" you cursed and tried to steady yourself onto his dick and without a warning sunghoon started to thrust harshly into your hips making you jolt at the sudden sensation.

You gripped onto his biceps and followed up his movements, the friction from grinding with each other made him moan, he felt so comfortable and confident whenever he's doing it with you. You make him feel special and it encourages his ego more.

Sunghoon sighed heavily at the sight of you, your body was shaking from the overstimulation and your tits going up and down as you rode his dick. At that moment sunghoon felt like you were a goddess, an angel sent down for him to corrupt, just the thought of ruining you made his cock hard again.

You let a loud moan and gripped him more, "hoon i am so close, fuck."

The knot in your stomach finally came undone, your juices were now flowing down his dick making him groan and speed up his thrust.

Your body fell down to his chest, panting as you tried to steady your breath. "Fuck baby here I come."

Sunghoon rutted his hips a few more times before pumping his cum inside your wet core, your gummy walls were now tainted with his white fluid making your eyes rolled back with the new sensation that filled your body, feeling his seed enter your insides made your head spin once again.

After awhile his dick finally softened and slipped out on its own, he grabbed your hips and laid you down besides him. "You did so well my love." Sunghoon smiled and kissed the side of your head.

You only hummed in response, your eyes were slowly closing and was ready to succumb to slumber. "Y/n are you there?."

Your eyes then widened, the sleepiness that was in your system faded within seconds of hearing that voice. You looked over at sunghoon and saw his expression were the same with yours.

Aw fuck..

.  .  .

This is not proofread and again, my requests are always open😚

[hallowedbe]

a gust of wind makes you pull your jacket closed; notes of fire (not smoke, but flame), amber cologne poorly masking pineapple kush, spray paint, and sweet candy fill your nose. you think you hear beverly hills by weezer playing in another room. ah — it must be briar.

BASICS:

full name: briar sutton nickname(s): bri, b  age: twenty-three  gender: non-binary pronouns: he/they  sexuality: slut date & place of birth: december 04 in toronto, canada  occupation: piercing apprentice at eternal ink & part-time student at makah community college  faceclaim: d'pharaoh woon-a-tai notable characteristics: shaggy hair down to his shoulders, baggy shirts and even baggier jeans, a plethora of piercings (his ears, their tongue, his eyebrow, their bottom lip), a helluva puppy dog face, skin that's way too clear for the amount of junk he eats, constant need for movement (drumming on desks, tapping his foot -- shoutout adhd) traits: charming, juvenile, mischievous, playful, so unserious holy shit, aimless similar to: rodrick heffley (diary of a wimpy kid), percy jackson (percy jackson & the olympians), yu nishinoya (haikyuu), kurt wagner (x-men), naruto uzumaki (naruto) aesthetics: skateboarding down the beach boardwalk, a bag full of spray paint, grinning after you've gotten a bloody nose, torn up vans, high-top converse

BULLET POINTS — TW DRUG USE, DEALING, & GENERALLY ROUGH FAMILY DYNAMICS

– born to a single mother in toronto, canada, briar never knew his father. he was the product of a frat-party-fueled one night stand months before, and their mother wanted nothing to do with the man after that. a woman who believed she could take on the world, she thought she could handle a baby, too – even at the ripe age of 20. – what she couldn't have expected was the postpartum depression that would wrack her body when briar was born. she managed to push through, but it wasn't easy. he was colicky, then he was needy, then so hyperactive she couldn't catch up with them. this was around the first time she'd realized she'd bitten off more than she could chew (and around the time briar would tell you she began to resent them, if you asked) – constantly exhausted and barely out of the throes of mental illness, briar's mother knew she couldn't do this alone anymore. finally, she took up her family's offer to help raise briar, and moved them both to los angeles at age five, just in time for school – and god, did it take a village to raise them. briar never did particularly well in school; not for lack of smarts, because he had plenty. but he didn't learn the way other kids did, and no one was willing to stop and figure out why. they fell behind quickly, and in order to keep him from falling through the cracks, constant tutoring sessions began to replace the sports he'd liked to do, all for what he deemed useless because he just didn't get it.  – briar became kind of a "lost cause" to schools quickly, but never to his mother. she moved him from school to school, whenever he'd get in trouble at one – he'll tell you this only made the resentment worse. – briar falls into the wrong crowd fast. feeling outcast by the authority figures at his school, he finds his own community. late nights skating, tagging, and doing some type of drug are frequent. so are the pained looks from their mother when they come home as the sun rises once again. – they move to bearhold at age 17 after a blowout fight with their mom. they were going nowhere fast, she worked so hard for him and he's throwing it away. his grandparents, his aunts & uncles all tried to get him to stay, but he couldn't do it. – he leaves with one of his childhood best friends (and their other half, though he'd never say that). she had family in bearhold -- in an effort to not impose, briar crashes with his older cousin & her boyfriend, two core figures from his childhood he'd kept in touch with when they had their own move. he had no clue what he was going to do, but the couple struck a deal; he stays in school and actually tries to do the work, and he can stay with them. so, he finished up high school (albeit a year or so late). now, he's got a piercing apprentice spot at eternal ink and is part-time in school...doing something. part time weed dealer, too but it’s to raise money ‼️‼️ at the end of the day, briar tells himself he can't keep disappointing everyone in their life. even if they dig their hole deeper. – he's a ridiculous flirt. owns several pieces of merchandise with "i <3 milfs" on it. really annoying.

– WHACKED with a case of severe adhd that does in fact affect every area of their life. diagnosed like as of four years ago. don't talk to them. they're medicated. (muns interpretation of this is based off of my own but pls let me know if anything i'm saying sounds wrong or fucked up etc etc)  – loves spray-painting & tagging. adrenaline junkie. his tag is "makwa", which means bear (specifically the black bear) in the ojibwe language. it was the nickname his mother and relatives called them growing up. tags rich houses and big company buildings often -- "eat the rich" in a person – always doing something with their limbs; tapping their fingers, bouncing their leg, fiddling with their hair. like the energizer bunny on crack – practices "california sobriety". is high often, says it calms him (someone take that shit away from him thanks) – doesn't really like alcohol, though, because he "doesn't like how it makes him feel" – will drink ten virgin pina coladas in one sitting, though – doesn't drive, prefers to just skate everywhere or take the bus. economic king – will never cut his hair beyond a trim. either wears it down or up in some kind of ponytail/bun combo. braids are rare; he enjoys wearing them, but doesn't love the work of doing them – very close with his grandparents (especially his grandmother) still. calls her at least three or four times a week. many of his fondest memories are connected to her. – talks to his mom maybe once a month. neither of them want to unpack what happened. – almost always able to talk his way out of anything. boyishly charming to an annoying degree. – enjoys an occasional crop top.

[eldritch-spouse]

Characters I wanna stuff in my mouth and nom nom :D

1. Morell & Shags, deadly pretty mushrooms yum yum, deep fried in batter to make tempura mushrooms

2. Belo, I feel like he would taste like chicken or any fancy bird, roasted like the Christmas turkey

3. Livius, laffy taffy man, chew him raw and pull as I bite to see how long he stretches

4. Magus, Glauk & Ivana, ssaaashimi

5. Krulu, Mother, I wonder what gods taste like

6. Zizz, I feel like he has the best texture, like cotton candy or marshmallows, just soft and pillowy and lovely to chew

7. Obie, Mervin, Cero, any way, any size, any serving, I just really like them and want them to be in me in more ways than one

(violent urge anon)p.s. I really loved the new fic you made! Scratches that itch in brain that goes aaaaAAaaAaaa

[Thank yeee, <;7]

TW: Gore; Cannibalism.

1. Make sure you fry Morell well, don't wanna get poisoned now, do you? Also, wring the ink out of Shags' cap before you do anything or you really will die of ink poisoning...;

2. Oof, just thinking about all that work plucking his wings and getting rid of the hair. Maybe remove the wings while he's alive, make him watch it;

3. With no bones on his arms and legs, you really can twist him into some elegant shapes. If you want to make any of these losers into a pretty, elegant plate- Then I'd suggest him first;

4. Magus is a squid monster, you can make aaall sorts of meals, I recommend the use of teriyaki. Glauk probably tastes very weird, he's a blend of species, I'm not even sure he'd be a good meal. They say shark meat has a hint of sweetness, maybe Ivani would make a good shark steak?;

5. I'm fairly certain eating a god would forever break your mind into complete hysteria. Your ears would ring like whistling shrieks and your eyeballs would sizzle to ash. You die with a smile on your bared teeth, consumed by madness;

6. I think Zizz would just melt on your mouth. Whether you're picturing marshmallow or the most tender of steaks, it's something so divine you almost don't want to swallow it. You'll cry as you eat, because you know your meal will be over eventually.

7. Mervin tastes like sour grapes because he's an asshole to the core. Cero is probably so bitter you'll spit him out, or die with a piece of him lodged in your throat. Obie is likely a very fulfilling, enriching meal!

[kim-poce]

Respawn

A snippet of an idea I had. I probably wont be writing that much about it but I'll rotate it in my mind

Tw: suicide (their body gets better tho), classism, panic attack, betrayal, overdose, starvation mention, whump

Death is not a big deal, everyone has died several times before.

Life isn't fair nor equal, and death is much less so. Just watch the news if you don't believe me. Just yesterday it talked about a group of people, from their twenties to their forty. It seems they got tired of working to death and tried to escape existence by invading The Core. It failed, of couse, it always does. If The Core was that easy to get into most people would be dead by now. Not long after that the news talked about the new drug, you know the one, it seems they got a new version of the billionaire favorite candy. They said that that overdose was the best death in their lives, and that's saying something with their habit of finding better ways to die all the time.

"Is that your excuse today, Vi?" Tiana asked, she was on the back of my head, throwing a ball on the wall and catching it again. She looked at me, and then down to our bloody blankets, the pain still lingering from our wrist. "You could at least had not made a mess."

I shrugged, I guess the sight of blood took over our subconscious and the ball left bloody circles on the wall.

"Are you going out or not, they won't be serving food the whole day."

I shrugged. Death is meaningless, what is the big deal about starving towards it.

"The big deal is that it hurts, dumbass"

I found myself with my back on the wall as Tiana was already moving us towards the food queue.

"We need a job" she said.

'What for.' I thought to myself, throwing the damn ball against the wall, pain flowed into my head as the sunlight got in our eyes.

"Ouch" Cal complained, leaving the room.

"Since when was him there?" Tiana frowned.

"Hell if know"

She sighed.

We were maybe halfway down the street when we spotted him, my best friend. Our heart beat fast and the ball melted out of existence as panic overtook me. I barely registered anything from before I oppened my eyes to see Cal, resting my shivering, curled up body under their large wings. I couldn't see the body or out of it. Nor did I want to.

I let out a chuckle as Cal caressed my head. They raised their eyebrow at me.

"Isn't it funny?" Normally I would speak, but my mouth was tied shut so I threw the sentence straight in their mind, "I've brought a knife to our shell's neck several times but a little knife on the back is what defeats me."

"Is it funny tho"

"It is..." I burried myself futher under the wings, "It's like Achilles but I floated on the water without getting my back wet somehow. The mental image is hilarious."

"Mhm" was all Cal said, caressing my head, noticing the river in the mental image was made out of blood.

_____

@latenightcupsofcoffee @cupcakes-and-pain (i forgot who I normally tag in writing)

[offbrandangels]

Hello, you can call me Angel or Mac.

If we are friends or become friends you may call me by the names I have listed or nonbinary Nicknames. I act as a babysitter/platonic caregiver to some agere friends to help them cope with trauma in a healthy manner.

I'm a nonbinary, queer writer and artist. I go by she/her and they/them pronouns. I'm 25 years old and taken by my boyfriend/partner/caregiver. I'm wiccan but tend to lean towards being spiritual in general and take from many religions and am open to learning about other religions. I will post sfw content, might occasionally post about ways to cope with certain traumas and things I've learned through therapy and what not. This is a safe space and will be treated as such. It's a safe space to talk and express yourself in a healthy manner. If you are here to bully or are a map you can get the heck off my page. This is a safe space for everyone, regardless if you are agere or not. I support lgbtq+ among many other things. We are inclusive and accepting on this blog and all walks of life are welcome. If you are kink please don't interact, I do not want that on this blog as it would be triggering to age regressors and their trauma. Be appropriate and respectful of my safe space. Any posts that have trauma that is triggering I will put a tw on it. If you see a tw keep scrolling if you can't handle the subjects of various traumas.

Mom to @sleepypuppycozy give them a follow, and please be appropriate when interacting with anyone online. We are human and have feelings. If you harass or are inappropriate to me, my daughter, or any of my friends, you will be reported and blocked.

Sign: Taurus ♉️🐂🐮

Bday: 4/20

Big age: 25

Lil age: 2-12

Fav Season: Fall 🍂🍄

Fav holiday: Halloween🎃🕷🦇

Fav foods: Sushi, pizza, ramen, beef stroganoff, Dino nuggies, Mac n cheese. Asian food and Hispanic food. I love Indian fry bread.

Fav desserts/candy: pocky, gummy sharks, dark chocolate, oreos, pie, cookies, circus peanuts

Fave drinks: apple juice, chocolate milk, and strawberry lemonade Arizona.

Fav shows: Supernatural, bluey, my little pony

Fav movies: Underworld, jurassic park, deadpool, Indiana Jones

Fav colors: purple, pink, red, black, blue

My aesthetics: goth, grunge, pastel goth, cottage core, hippie and renaissance era dress style.

Fav animals: Horses, rabbits, rats, frogs, red panda, cows, crows

Fav things to do: hiking, kayaking, biking, swimming, reading, watching anime/movies/k-dramas/TV shows, gaming, baking desserts, gardening

Fav bugs: isopod, moth, butterflies, preying mantis, dragonfly

Fav games: the last of us, animal crossing, Pokémon violet, smash bros, 7 days to die

Fav toys/plushies/fidgets: tangles, chewlery, calico critters, my littlest pet shop, monster high dolls, squishmallows, squishable, bluey, Bratz dolls, anything sanrio

Fav lil things: pacifiers, sippy cups, onesie, crinkle/sensory toys, baby blankets, coloring books, stickers

I'll update this post more as time goes on and if I see things that need to be addressed or talked about.

[tcintedsvcrets]

Trick or Treat

This dream isn't feeling sweet We're reeling through the midnight streets And I've never felt more alone It feels so scary getting old

tws: drug use, gore, assault, drowning, murder

Truly, she didn’t know how she’d ended up getting roped into helping out, something about too much candy or spiked cider. Daniela wasn’t nosy enough to question it, and honestly, after crossing paths with Viktor she couldn’t pull a single thought straight enough to comprehend. All she knew right then, as she tipped out the silver tub filled with water that was undoubtedly also tainted with paint and silly string, was that the moment alone might have been a saving grace before she chalked the night up to being entirely ruined. There were few things in life that Daniela loved more than fright-fest - her name was always on the list of volunteers to help organize the weekend. The idea that a run in with her one and only ex could destroy an event she’d been looking forward to since last year ended, was proof enough that he’d shattered her through to her core. 

Pathetic. It swam around in her mind like a gale-force wind, the bitter taste on her tongue too thick to swallow back as it coagulated into a thickened knot in the back of her throat. One day - one day, Daniela knew she’d be able to look at them and know that there was nothing more they could do to her. The clang of metal against the concrete basin in the shed felt like a minor wake-up call - it was Halloween, and it was not the time for the heat of tears to blossom in the corner of her eyes. Neither could she find anything as such to distract her from it - Atticus was, well... She pinched roughly at the bridge of her nose, “Fuck,” her knee collided with the metal tub with a loud crash, the shotty piping of the tap above reverberating just long enough to get her through the fleeting moment necessary to pull herself together as she soon twisted the tap on - the rough squeak as it turned making her wince slightly.

The chill that crept in was enough for her to look back at the door, swinging slightly open in the late night breeze, the cacophony of sound from beyond tempting her back into the light that would help her fake it through another day. She could do this. She would do this. Just as she had every other day - a quick side note to find Dylan, she still had some cash left for the week and undoubtedly, nothing would be more beneficial to her than anything he had on offer. Daniela couldn’t let the high wear off, it’d been almost five years and she knew that was one thing she wouldn’t handle well. 

The lightbulb overhead swung back and forth on its cord as if it’d only just been switched on and she paused, for little more than a moment trying to listen out for someone else within the shed, looking to scare her. But nothing - nothing but music and screaming and the ethereal giggle of people that reminded her she needed to get this shit done so she could go back to being careless. So careless, in the way she’d once again lashed out at Marcy - spilling things she’d never spoken aloud to anyone but Parker. Careless, in the way that she’d drink herself stupid and hopefully find Jesse in the dark of his living room to fuck away the pain. How did one satisfy themselves while ruining every aspect of their life without any real intention? Each way she turned, she seemed to set ablaze a life that could have been more. Water. Apples. Fucking focus. 

Turning the tap off with a certain new breath of life, Daniela plastered on a smile that could have fooled anyone, reaching for the crate of apples that sat upon the bench only feet away, it hit her like a brick. The buckle in her knee as it was kicked in from behind spliced sharply through her leg as she slammed into the concrete, “What the fu..---” the finality of her outrage falling short as a hand ripped through her braids, gripping with vice like strength to slam her face down into the edge of the basin. It split every thought into fireworks, an explosion shooting through her temple until she saw little more than a blip of stars. Even still, her fingers curled around the metal sink, as if clinging to it would somehow keep her there forever, the water that had splashed across the surface making it difficult to find permanent purchase as the same vice like grip curled around her ankle and yanked her backwards, “Get the fuck off me,” she kicked, once, twice - a third time, and was met by nothing more than darkness, as something hard, solid and sharp, smashed down against the back of her head.

It’s fleeting, no more than a few moments, that her head swims and the light comes back to her in a blur. Daniela can’t tell if she’s still within the confines of the shed, but the ground feels solid - cold, and all she can see is the back of whoever drags her by her legs - hands trailing behind, even as she tries to claw at the ground. They stop, abruptly, and though they turn - crouching down over her, she sees nothing of detail. Nothing she could remember, the mask in place of features skewes everything and she whimpers in some attempt to scream. The opportune moment they’d been waiting for, as they pressed the apple into her lips. Almost gentle at first, until she refuses, her head falling wayside. Fingertips - gloved - grasp at her cheeks, pressing in until Daniela feels the pain splinter across her jaw and she cries out. It’s a strangled cry, cut short as the fruit is forcibly caught between her teeth.

The heaviness she feels in her arm as she pulls it from the ground, trying to grasp at the mask is pointless as they return to full height - and though she already feels lost, she’s suddenly caught up within a swell of dread like she’s never felt before. Terror builds within onyx hues, and silently, she pleads with her attacker. Though, much like each attempt she’d made to claw her way from the depths of darkness, it was to no avail.

A shoe comes down against the apple with such force it’s indescribable. Teeth shatter, pushed inwards by the pressure and she tastes blood in the back of her throat. Coughing as the fruit presses deeper and her jaw yields to the pressure. Quickly, she struggles to draw air into her lungs, between the swell of blood and the apple jammed so deeply it blocks her airway. 

Tears flow freely - but she isn’t crying. It’s fear, manifesting the only way she can manage as her body refuses to react. The wound at the back of her head making thought and action impossible to collide. There’s no hope left, hair ripped from her scalp as she’s once again dragged to her knees, the whole world pulsates in the same way the back of her head does. She’s caught within the attempt to see through the fog and pulling limply at the grip they hold her with. Fire burns at the corners of her mouth, the flesh of her lips pulled taught and ripping as she heaves and fights for air, blood and saliva drip past her chin, splattering the ground she kneels upon. The sound of metal, and splashing water comes nearer, the chill as it spills over the lip of the bucket against her thighs tells her everything she needs to know. The murmur she manages is little more than a squeak beyond the apple jammed in her throat, still, she coughs and splutters trying to find a moment of strength that can bring her back from the edge and when something presses into the back of her head, pushing her forward, Daniela fights it, as much as she can.

But her energy is spent, shattered in the blinding light of pain and a swinging bulb that once screamed at her to run. All at once, she bites down against the apple, hoping it might split further and topple from her mouth, yet all it does it inflict an ache that lights everything in white hot flame, every nerve ending shooting excruiciating pain into the back of her skull, as her world is quickly silenced.

Panic is all she knows. Panic and the blurred sound that the depth of water pulls her into. Hands grip at the edge of the tub, pushing with all the might her exhausted frame offers her, but there’s nothing to give. Nothing that isn’t immediately taken from her as she is pushed so far into the water that the bubbles that rise with every attempted scream, hit the bottom before they rise. 

Fingernails tear against the tub, against the concrete as she kicks at the unknown, every movement drawing another breath from lungs that cannot take it. Blood and water spill, and such a hold becomes impossible.

Everything, becomes impossible.

Trick or treat, she thinks, as water seeps through and fills what her blood and the damned apple doesn’t.