#way to waste your life fucker

[victoriannarwhal]

It's "Why did I get an English Degree Monday?"

[tonycries]

Lemme Ride, Baby!

Synopsis. Riding your cocky boyfriend to insanity is not a want, but a need. Especially when he sits there so deliciously arrogant - you just have to break him.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cowgirl, slight switch! boys, established relationship, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, swearing.

Word count. 1.3k 

A/N. Had this in my drafts for so long.

He sits across from you on the bed. Long legs spread, eyes half-lidded, and kiss-bitten lips turned into an aggravating smirk that makes your dripping cunt clench. 

“Good luck lasting more than five seconds, pretty girl.” he drawled lazily, oozing pure cockiness.

So that’s how he’s gonna play, huh?

“Let’s see if you can live up to your own hype, darling.”

“Mhm, I won’t be the one begging for mercy.”

Ah, for the life of him he should’ve known. Should’ve gotten an inkling at the way you sauntered over to him in nothing but a predatory grin. Should’ve begged for mercy at that carnal gleam in your eyes that made blood rush straight to his traitorously hard cock. You wanted to eat him alive. 

And he was going to eat his words.

At first, your cocky boyfriend pretended to be unfazed, laying back leisurely on his forearms. But you saw the way his eyes flickered with nervousness when you grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and slammed him onto the mattress. You felt the way his already-throbbing erection twitched so animalistically as you urgently swung a leg over his hips. You knew you had him wrapped around your little finger. 

“Let’s hope you can last as long as you talk.”

Bullying his achingly hard cock into your snug cunt, sinking down agonizingly slowly. Relishing the way his eyes roll back in sheer ecstasy as your plushy walls suck him up so desperately. “Fuck, yes. You feel s’amazing wrapped around me. Sure you can handle it all?” 

You waste no time. 

Abruptly slamming down on his leaking cock. “Ah- Hah-” Your boyfriend’s surprised moans get choked in his throat as you rock your hips back and forth at a punishing pace. 

Pulling all the way up till his furiously flushed tip is teasing your sloppy hole. Slick dripping on his length, slamming down down down - his glistening veins massaging that one spot just right. Over and over. Harder. Faster. 

The sinful squelches of your cunt filling the heady air of your bedroom. Driving him to insanity.

“Oh, god yes- jus’ like that ah fuck fuck fuck…” his low groans come in ragged bursts, cock twitching wildly. A large hand shoots up to clutch your bouncing breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples, the other having a white-knuckled grip on the sheets.

“Give up ye- ah! Hngh, you little fucker-” a moan escapes your lips as he bucks his hips defiantly, chasing his high. Thick tip kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

Your hungry eyes bore into his blown-out ones, a defiant glint in them as he still tries to maintain his cool façade. Biting his bottom lip, brows furrowed in heavy concentration as he fights to hold back cumming. 

Stubborn bastard.

Several things happen at once.

Your hand shoots out to grip his exposed neck, nails digging into his skin, hard. Almost as hard as you ram down on his cock, sheathing him till his twitching balls smack your ass. Wasting no time once he’s bottomed out. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out. 

His pretty lips fall into soft oh. Fucked out, gurgled moans leaving his lips around the hand at his throat. “Oh! Ah! Shit, tha’s right. Take every inch.” And if he thought he was going to pass out before then- 

He couldn’t even finish the thought, brain stuck on the way you clamp down so obscenely around him, milking him greedily. Biceps curling, a hand reaches above him to hold onto the headboard - and maybe his sanity.

“Give up yet?” You grind down mercilessly, walls hugging his throbbing erection impossibly tight. Clit rubbing against his toned pelvis. Back and forth and back and forth and- Sloppy, it was so sloppy.

Slick gushing out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “God, fuck- hah. That all you got, pretty girl?.” 

Thighs burning, you alternate between torturously slow strokes and frantic bouncing that left you both restless. Hypnotizing rhythm him slowly towards the edge, only to reel him back again. 

He will eat his words. 

You lose track of time. Maybe it’s been hours - maybe even just a few minutes. 

Pulling and pushing. Over and over. 

“Ah- Hngh-.” Eyes barely keeping open, torn between the fucking obscene view of your dripping pussy swallowing his cock so greedily and the lustful, power-drunk expression on your face. “Wanna- wanna cum, pretty girl.”

“Then beg for it.”

“No.”

Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead. You watch, cunt fluttering at the fucked-out little smile curling his lips, and the carnal way his neck was leaning into the tight grasp you had around it. 

You lean forward, a cruel smile playing on your lips, “Beg for it.” you repeat, voice sultry and dangerous.

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out from where his eyes were scrunched closed. “No.” he whispers, jaw clenched tight.

You press impossibly closer, breasts hot against his sculpted chest, sticky with sweat. Not stopping your maddening rhythm, your breath is hot against his ear, “Beg for it, and I’ll let you cum harder than you ever have before.”

He throws his head back, toes curling into the mattress, and thighs quivering at the way you were using him like nothing more than a toy.

“Please.” he finally breathes, words barely audible over the sloppy slapping of skin on skin.

“Louder.” 

“Please, let me cum, pretty girl.” he groans, leaning into the mockingly innocent peck you leave on the tip of his nose.

You reward him, slamming down on his throbbing cock with renewed vigor. Finally giving into the way you were drunk off his cock just as much as he was off your pussy. A hand reaching behind you to massage his balls, feeling the weight on your palm. Tugging on them in a way that has his breath hitching and dick twitching so desperately inside you. Aching for release.

“God, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He lets out a guttural moan, thrusting up into you in short, frantic jabs to match your unforgiving cadence. His leaking tip hitting that perfect angle to send sparks flying behind your eyelids. 

And you let him, chasing your high as much as his, eyes locked on his greedy gaze.

How long has it even been? All he knows is that fuck if heaven was real then he was there right now, looking at a goddess herself. Ah, close. So close. His thrusts grow jerkier, cock pulsing inside you. 

“Cum for me, darling. Fill me up till you’re leaking out of me.”

A sharp whimper of your name and he’s spilling into you. His body bows into yours, thick, hot ropes of his cum that fill your snug cunt. Painting your walls white to match the pleasure that runs down his spine - all the way to his leaking cock. It gushes inside of you, trailing down his sensitive cock to form a creamy ring at his base. 

Stars behind his eyes, teeth gritted. He’s heard of orgasms so powerful they take control of one’s body, and right now fuck if this isn’t that then he didn’t know what was. 

Nails digging into your hips - keeping you still as he pounds into you, fucking his seed deeper and deeper. Cock throbbing around your quivering walls - overstimulated as you cum around the feeling of him filling you up. Vision blurring, blood roaring in your ears as everything crashes together like a tidal wave. 

Before you know it, you’re collapsing onto his heated chest. Limbs tangled and breaths mingling as you both try to catch your breaths. 

You can feel his cum leaking out of you, thick and sticky. Pooling between your legs. Stomach feeling so full of him.

“Looks like you talked a lot more shit than you could handle, darling.” you grin, still breathless. 

Oh. You shouldn’t have said that. 

It was like a flip switched.

Seizing your moment of weakness, rolling over in the blink of an eye. You sink into the now-soaked mattress as his large hands hold a bruising grip on your wrists, pinning them right above your head. 

He loomed menacingly over you, low whisper hot against your ear and sending shivers down your spine. 

“My turn, pretty girl.”

- GOJO, Choso, OIKAWA, Kuroo, Suna, Tsukishima, ATSUMU, EREN

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[pr1ncesspopstar]

Can we see some Screwball Police Academy Nonsense with Senior Officer Sanada, Junior Officer Satonaka, Aide-To-Commissioner Nijima, and Pub Sec Officer Zenkichi all together?

no

[dejwrld]

CHOSOIST KINKTOBER GAMING PLAYLIST — WEEK 2

( GUARDIAN ANGEL ) 🎮 GUARDIAN ANGEL!SEPHIROTH X READER

— game synopsis: he's been your guardian angel since you were sixteen years old. protecting you from danger you didn't see coming, but now that you're slowly wanting space from him—he makes it his mission to remind you who you belong to until you take your final breath.

( cw ) ⸻ fem reader, female anatomy described, slight enemies to fuckers, reader somewhat purposely put herself in danger, possessive!sephiroth, mentions of sephiroth having pretty white wings, mating press position, cream pies, mentions of soul ties,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀kinktober masterlist / previous playthrough

You’ve known him since you were sixteen years old. The mere memory of him grabbing at your backpack strap to tug you out of the way as you were about to walk into ongoing traffic imprints your brain like a nostalgic TV memory. He was a sixteen-year-old guardian angel who aged through the years as you grew, interfering in your life as if you were the most life-threatening person ever. 

Freshman year of college, he’s taking the red solo cup of whatever mixed potion the older frat guys made out of your hand. This led to practically the whole campus thinking you were chronically insane as you argued with no one because they couldn’t see what you saw. He interfered with your life at moments when you had it all under control, and he didn’t need to baby you as if you didn’t. But you were grateful for him, and the things he did stop when things got bad.

It's like killing a guy who roofied you at a bar. Despite the toxic drugs from drinking your drink, it had you feeling like you were in another world. You remember the crimson-red liquid staining his large, elegant white wings after the deed was done. After that, he’s never left your side, and you grew to feel suffocated. You couldn’t do much in your life if you had your guardian angel down your neck twenty-four-seven commenting on you getting hurt or dying. 

Now an adult, he still was here. Despite you being perfectly fine. No freak accidents, no near-death experiences. He still was here lurking around as if you were a child. 

Right now, watching as you poorly attempted to get laid. Your panties dangle from your ankle as you wait for the guy to insert, but as your horny meter slowly decreases—so does the poor stranger you met at a bar cock. Your eyes averted between your bodies as he aggressively pumped his condom-covered cock; you could hear his laughs as he was sitting on your kitchen counter chewing on an apple. 

Fuckin’ Sephiroth.

“You know what? That’s okay. Just leave.” You pushed the guy off you, limp dick and all while you’re scrambling to tug your panties back on. 

“What? It just takes some time,” The guy’s tugging his pants up in frustration. “Just please…baby.” He’s grasping on you, and you’re swatting his hand away like it’s an annoying fruit fly. 

“Just go. I’m no longer in the mood.” You warned.

This was a warning not only for yourself but for him. You had a 6’1 angel looming around your apartment who didn’t care to kill someone—especially a person who wasn’t following directions. Your eyes darted from him in the kitchen to the guy who kissed his teeth while collecting his belongings.

“Don’t call me anymore! You completely wasted my time.” He sneered at you while leaving your apartment. The door closed with a harsh slam that made you jump. 

As silence drifts over your apartment, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of that annoying clock in your kitchen ticking, you lean back on the couch with a sigh. “You know, you completely ruined the vibe, you know?” Your eyes land on the white-haired male as he finishes the apple he obnoxiously chews on.

“Do not blame it on me.” He tosses the apple in a trash can and stands up to close the space between you.

“I am blaming you because it seems like every romantic connection I attempt to make, you are there to ruin it.” You sneered at him before sitting up. “I don’t think this will work anymore, Sephiroth.” 

“Are you saying you want to release me of my duties of being your guardian angel?” He asks. You can feel he got closer despite shifting your eyes closed to calm yourself down from this talk. 

You two have been together for years. He’s been protecting you for years, and now it felt so suffocating that you couldn’t breathe. Sometimes, you wanted to release him of his duties, but you knew when you did that every memory you’ve shared with him would vanish. It would be like you two have never met. 

The sight of him with his elegant white wings on his back. The sight of blood staining his pale skin after murdering someone that hurt you. The look of worry when you almost walk into traffic, and he was a split second from being too late. 

He was yours just as much as you were his. But you needed space. 

“Yes.” You breathed out, pushing yourself off the couch to enter your room. “You know, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I don’t think we can co-exist in each other’s lives anymore.” You explained you turned around, and he was leaning against your doorframe with the most obnoxious face. 

It was as if your words were going out one ear and the other for him. “We’re not young anymore. I don’t need you being so….so.” You were searching for the word to describe how you felt—frustration riddling your bones as you attempted to express yourself. 

Sephiroth took steps forward, closing the gap between you two. When he was towering over you with such little care at how close he was to you—he fixed your tank top strap and let his slender fingers linger on your shoulder just a little longer to cause goosebumps to garnish your skin immediately. 

“Possessive.” He finishes your sentence as his teeth graze upon his lower lip. “Is that the word you’re searching for, my little ward?” 

And with challenging eyes, you met his and said, “Yes. Possessive, like you own me or something.” 

His chuckles. But this chuckle was different from the one you have heard. It felt more sinister, more agitated. 

“You’re stuck with me, love. If you like it or not. We’re bound together until you die of old age or better yet, I briefly take my eyes off you as fate finally chooses a moment for you to die. Maybe a bus will hit you as you walk into traffic for texting on that silly device of yours, or maybe you’ll accidentally hit your head.” 

Your eyebrows furrow together in frustration and anger at his words. 

“You enjoy my company but don’t want to admit it. You think I didn’t notice the way you bring home little flings to spite me. You think I can’t hear the way your heartbeat quickens at the sight of me watching you get fucked by some man who can’t even make you orgasm. Sephiroth’s eyes glance over your body like he was observing you under a microscope. “So tell me, Y/N.” His finger’s toying with that strap on your tank top that keeps falling off your shoulder. 

“How many times have you imagined me, your sworn protector—your guardian angel fucking you?” His fingers drag alongside your nipples that harden through the thin white fabric of your tank top. “And don’t lie; I know when you’re lying to me.” 

You couldn’t quite remember what you had said after his words for your knees to be pressed upon your stomach and for Sephiroth’s cock to be buried into your throbbing cunt while your moans bounced off the walls. The pornographic sound of heated skin slapping against each other with the sound of your headboard banging against the wall was like music to your ears. But you enjoyed the sight of Sephiroth more. 

His crystal white hair fell in his face so perfectly. Comically enough, you wanted to say he looked like an angel. His eyes kept averting between your fucked out face and in between your body. With each glance down there, it seemed he fucked you into the mattress even harder. Instantly, your legs snake around his waist, completely trapping him from depriving you of what you were so eager for.

Sephiroth chuckles darkly through your pants of desperation, “Seems you’re enjoying this a little too much.” He mumbles. He pulls his cock entirely out of you, leaving you whining for more. 

He guides his cock in between your pussy lips rubbing in the mixture of your essence and pre-cum. Your back arched off the mattress with urgency, and he pushed you back down so you could endure the pleasurable torture of his cock teasing you until you were staining the cotton sheets below your naked body. With each stroke between your puffy lips, you’re squeezing your eyes shut tightly to prevent even the littlest thought of him seeing you like this. You didn’t think you could fathom the mere embarrassment. 

“Come on, you don’t want to see how well you take me?” He questions, his voice rings with a teasing tone that makes your pussy pulse. 

“Fine then.” He mumbles what seems to himself before he hooks his strong arms under your knees, completely trapping you under him and what’s to come.

You wondered if Sephiroth could hear how fast your heart was beating. It felt like it was bouncing around your chest like a small ball in a pinball machine. The feeling of his thick tip brushing against your entrance felt like the world had stopped. Perhaps it did. The idea of a guardian angel fucking his ward into her mattress had to be some form of rule breaker, right? Maybe, just maybe—God had briefly paused the world to give you time to weigh out the pros and cons of this.

But when Sephiroth bottomed down inside you, you felt the world unpause, and a wave of pleasure travel across your body. You even could hear yourself let out a sigh of relief—as if you’ve been waiting for this moment in centuries. The way his cock was inside, you felt like it was a missing piece in a puzzle you need. It fit perfectly, but when he started rotating and thrusting his hips—you couldn’t help but call out his name like it was a scripture.

It wasn’t as if you could do anything else but take his sensual thrusts. The mating press position trapped you from doing anything else but that. The way he was making you feel at the moment had you ignoring all that. Your moans echoed into his ear, and Sephiroth was very responsive because he’d grunt back like a rabid animal in heat. Ensuring that the feeling was mutual. That he was feeling just as good as you were. 

“After this, you’ll be stuck with me forever, right?” Sephiroth asked. His tongue drags alongside the bridge of your right ear, and instantly, your legs snake around his waist, locking your feet together so he won’t let go.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” His words send a chill down your spine as he continues to fuck into the mattress.

The pornographic sound of heated flesh echos upon your bedroom, and your eyes seem to squeeze shut in bliss. Savoring the moment between the two of you until you couldn’t anymore. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, and your thighs quivered under your guardian angel’s touch. His grip on you grew tighter, and you knew that he was unraveling right on top of you. His groans that echoed in your ear changed into whines of desperation. If you were being honest with yourself, you haven’t seen him this desperate in your life.

But it was a reason for that because, in just three seconds, he was a coming mess. He didn’t even bother to pull out, either. His nails dug into your heated flesh with each thrust inside of you, ensuring that each droplet of his cum stayed inside of you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you leaned up to indulge in a heated kiss to seal the deal that you knew was going to follow you for years.

You truly were stuck with him forever until you took your last breath. 

TAGS // @salaciousdoll @syndrlla97 @lilvampirina @msun1c0rn

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Art the Clown x Reader | SMUT | CW: reader is married to an abusive husband | reader uses drugs/alcohol to cope with her abusive marriage | murder/killing mentioned

This story is extremely explicit and deliciously fever dream-ish imo. Hope you enjoy it, my fellow clown fuckers ❤️

What the ever loving fuck is wrong with me?

That’s what you were thinking as your common sense peeked out briefly from the fog of alcohol and weed in your system…a moment of sobriety just long enough to make you question what motivation you could have for the decisions you were now making.

He smelled. Like dried blood and sex, the kind of sex that hurts you, but doesn’t stop you from wanting more. Maybe it would have been enough to stop you, under any other (sober) circumstances. But as it was, you were already sitting in this strange man’s lap, in the middle of an empty mall after closing. And what made the situation even more surreal? The fact that he was dressed in a goddamn Santa suit and wearing gaudy black and white clown makeup all over his face.

Yeah, you really needed to stop sneaking into the mall bathroom and getting fucked up. Swiping a pack of edibles and two travel-sized bottles of cinnamon spice vodka from the gas station had been a bad idea to begin with. Using the privacy of the bathroom to get wasted and scroll through your phone for two hours would have been considered strange behavior by most people. But most people (in fact, no one) knew the reason why you avoided home like the plague.

Your husband was abusive, in every way possible. He controlled every aspect of your life, to the point that sometimes, you worried he could even read your thoughts. Where you went, who you spoke to, your finances, your diet, your sex life; everything about you belonged to him. It was suffocating. And while your habit of stealing from the gas station and hiding in the mall bathroom was an unhealthy coping mechanism, you were coping. Even if eventually it bit you in the ass, like tonight. When you got a little too high, a little too drunk, to notice the time, or the fact that the mall outside the bathroom stall you were locked in had grown quiet…

The mall was closed. Fucking closed, with you locked inside it. You’d staggered out of the bathroom like a fucking zombie in what looked to be a post apocalyptic scene. The mall was empty, devoid of life. Everything was eerily silent, apart from your footsteps shuffling across the tile floor as you took in your empty surroundings. The mall was dimly-lit, the only light source coming from high above, moonlight streaming in through the big panel windows on the mall ceiling.

You found one of the exits, and tried the door. It was locked, or maybe you were too high/drunk to figure a way out? It didn’t matter because regardless, you weren’t going anywhere for awhile. Either you’d sober up and figure out how to get out, or you’d be stuck waiting till security came by in the morning and let you out. A pleasant thought tickled at the back of your mind: your husband had no idea where you were. It felt good to be so far beyond his radar that his ability to oversee your every move was completely fucked. What did scare you, however, was the thought of confronting him in the morning. How would he react to you staying out all night? Obviously it wouldn’t go over well, and just imagining what your husband’s punishment might involve had your stomach twisting.

So instead of ruining your high by worrying about the inevitable, you decided to finish the last of your vodka, yelling “fuck it!” into the empty void around you. Your voice echoed back at you off the walls of the empty mall. It was creepy, and a little exciting, being unsupervised and alone with this kind of freedom. The excitement you felt only heightened when you noticed him. Your mouth twisted into a grin of disbelief, because how fucking high WERE you that you were literally seeing Santa Claus in front of you right now?? You took a step towards him, still unsure if he was even real.

He was sitting in an ornate wooden chair framed by two massive Christmas trees. The strands of lights decorating them weren’t on, just like all the other lights inside the mall. Above him, a sign written in ridiculously large print read “SANTA,” as if the scene itself would have implied anything other than the jolly old elf’s presence. You forced your gaze to focus on the man/hallucination in front of you, the smile on his face as big as yours. And he was a…clown, too? You laughed out loud, the absurdity of it all becoming too much. Your laughter was tinny and soft, like the sound of jingle bells, and it seemed only fitting considering you were standing mere feet away from the man, the myth, the legend himself: Santa Claus.

He patted his lap, encouraging you over. The fact that he apparently didn’t speak made the vodka-soaked dreamworld you were currently wandering feel even more like a dream. As you approached ‘Santa Clown,’ the possibility of him being a figment of your imagination became less believable. When he reached for your arm and tugged you onto his lap, you were certain. He was absolutely real.

You gasped, a surprised giggle spilling from your lips. The clown seemed to enjoy your amusement, bouncing you on his knee just to hear the string of excited giggles that tumbled out of you. He was playing with you, and you were loving it. His hair, or the wig he wore, spilled over his shoulders in off-white waves, flecked by bits of red. It took you a few seconds to register that the red bits were actually dried blood, and that the same blood was caked onto the beard that hung loosely underneath Santa Clown’s chin.

Should you have been alarmed? Probably. But instead of sensing danger coming from the clown, you felt oddly protected, safe. Whoever that blood belonged to, whoever he may have hurt, the clown didn’t seem in any hurry to hurt YOU. In fact, based on the stiffening pulse of his cock under your ass, it seemed like the clown was enjoying your company very much.

To test your theory, you decided to tease him a little and see where it led. Shifting intentionally on his lap, you reached to smooth the blood-crusted strands of hair back from Santa Clown’s face, revealing his sharp cheekbones and smooth, painted-white skin. He was oddly handsome, attractive in a dark kind of way. The way villains are always more appealing than heroes, or more philosophically, how Eve must have felt when she was seduced by the serpent’s persuasive tongue. There was something forbidden about the clown, something instinctively, inherently wrong about wanting him. And yet, that wrongness was precisely part of the reason you did want him.

His smile faded slowly to an expression you couldn’t name, his eyes going dark. Had your flirting upset him? A chill ran through you as even the air around you both seemed to go colder. A sudden sizzle of electricity made you flinch, and you watched as around you, the lights on the Christmas trees were illuminated. You smiled, a pleased chuckle of surprise leaving your lips, and the clown smiled with you. He seemed to enjoy making you feel good; and perhaps the dark supernatural forces that followed him came in handy in times like these, when manipulating electricity could be used to impress a pretty girl?

The rest of the mall remained in darkness, with only the Christmas lights illuminating the festive scene. “It’s so pretty,” you said, and you realized it was the first time you’d actually spoken to the clown. He nodded, feigning a kind of bashful grin, and extended his index finger toward you, tapping lightly against your breasts. Your eyebrows lifted at the sweet gesture. It had been a long time since anyone had called you ‘pretty,’ and somehow, even in the absence of words, the clown had said everything right.

“Me?” you asked coquettishly, feeling emboldened by the vodka thundering through your system. “You think I’m pretty?”

The clown nodded vigorously, his big, toothy smile returning. “Well y’know what?” you asked through a giggle. “I think you’re pretty handsome, Santa.”

The clown’s mouth made the shape of a surprised ‘O,’ and he pointed to himself, his lips forming the word ‘me???’

“Yeah,” you replied. “And, as a matter of fact-.” You leaned in so your lips were at the clown’s ear, the coppery scent of blood stronger by his face. “-I’m ready to tell you what I want for Christmas…”

You didn’t expect to feel his hand on your chin, turning your head to face him. His expression had shifted back to the one you’d been unable to read earlier, the look you’d mistaken for him being upset. Now, as his thumb tugged your bottom lip downward and his dark eyes studied the shape of your mouth, you realized his expression was one of lust.

You sucked in a breath, extending your tongue to meet his thumb. The metallic tang of old blood met your tastebuds, melting over your tongue as the dried blood under the clown’s thumbnail was wetted by your spit. You didn’t care whose blood it was, because in this strange new reality, nothing beyond this space in the empty mall mattered. His eyes followed his thumb as it pressed deeper, your lips closing around its base, sucking lightly. You shifted again on the clown’s lap; it was so bumpy now that he was fully hard, his erection making it difficult to sit still.

His gaze was fixed on your lips, the space his thumb had disappeared between. You backed your head away slowly, letting his thumb slide out of your mouth with a wet pop. Your hands closed over his thighs to balance yourself as you slipped off his lap, locking your eyes with his as you settled between his boots on the ground. Resting your head against his right thigh, the heady smell of piss and sweat filled your senses. His hand was on your head, fingers laced through your hair and guiding you, inward. Closer. Closer to the space he wanted your mouth, where he needed it to be.

You wet your lips with your tongue and watched as the clown worked the large buckle of his belt undone. He tugged the waist of his pants lower, just enough for his cock to spring free, smacking against his stomach, pre cum clinging to the white fur trim of his jacket. Your mouth fell open at the sight of his member, its impressive length only half as striking as its girth. He closed his gloved hand around himself, pumping up and down his shaft in a few slow, unhurried strokes. The look in his eyes was almost wicked; he knew the thought of him filling your throat intimidated you, and he liked that fear.

With his other hand locked in your hair, the clown pulled your head closer, till your mouth was poised at his tip. He pressed the fat bulb to your lips, admiring the way they parted obediently for him. Urging his hips forward, the clown pushed his cock inside your mouth. The salty taste of his skin on your tongue was unpleasant at first, but you quickly forgot about any discomfort once he’d established a rhythm back and forth inside you. The head of his cock pushed the salty taste to the back of your throat, and you swallowed it down. From there, the only challenge you faced was opening your throat enough to take him. The clown’s hand on your head continued to guide it, pumping your mouth over him like a sleeve. You needed to breathe, to swallow the air his cock was denying you. Just when you thought you might be sick, the clown removed himself from your throat, allowing you the chance to breathe, a long line of saliva trailing from your bottom lip to the head of his cock. He grinned down at you approvingly, patting your head as if to say ‘good girl,’ before lifting you once again by the hair, and shoving himself back between your lips.

He leaned forward and closed his other hand around your throat, feeling his cock fucking you from the inside out. Your cunt was dripping, a pearly string of your wetness slicking the ground between your knees. You squeezed your thighs together as the clown used your throat, desperate for some kind of stimulation. He could sense your desperation, and offered you his boot as a relief, wedging it between your legs to give you something to grind on. You humped it gratefully, rocking your swollen cunt against the clown’s shoe. He stilled inside your throat, buried deep, his fingers tightening in your hair to the point your scalp was stinging. A gush of semen washed down your throat, followed by another. You struggled to swallow it all, your throat constricting as the clown’s cum filled it to capacity. You gagged and choked, and he pulled you off his cock just as vomit began creeping its way up the back of your throat. His wild eyes and wide grin beamed down at you, his chest rising and falling quickly in the aftermath of his climax. Semen you hadn’t been able to swallow dripped down your chin in a thick line. When you attempted to wipe it away, the clown stopped you with a swat of his hand against yours. He wanted to see the results of his work in and on you, his work of Art.

He jerked his boot where it was wedged between your thighs, bouncing you on top of it. You whimpered at the sensation, your neglected little cunt aching and engorged. You needed to come, so badly that it hurt. The clown watched as you stayed knelt at his feet, straddling his boot and humping it like a bitch in heat, grunting and panting, no more than an animal. Your orgasm shook you to your core, your muscles gripping and sucking around nothing, clit throbbing against the clown’s boot as you rubbed yourself into it, moaning and spitting a string of obscenities into his pants leg, where your face was buried.

After your body ceased shaking, you looked up to see the clown still grinning down at you. He offered his hands for you to take hold of, and helped you back into his lap. An hour passed, and then another. You couldn’t say for certain, but you think you must have fallen asleep in the clown’s arms for an hour or so, because at some point, you noticed that the stars were beginning to fade in the sky. Morning was coming, and that meant going home. To your husband. To your abuser.

Fear roiled in your stomach, along with the alcohol and cum filling it. You despised this feeling of dread, of being scared by a shit stain of a human being like your husband. If only you could live free of his tyranny, you imagined. How much better would the world be without the influence of such a toxic man as your husband…?

…And then, the idea formed in your mind. You tilted your head to the clown’s face. Studying the blood on his hair and skin once again, you decided to ask a favor of him. “Santa,” you began, because you didn’t know what else to call him. “You’ve killed people before…haven’t you?”

The clown feigned an apologetic expression and raised his hands as if to say “guilty.”

You nodded your head, a hopeful smile on your lips. And then, you asked him: “How would you like to kill my husband?” 🔪🩸🤍

@arts-bloody-gloves

[laundrybiscuits]

(ETA: now edited and up on AO3)

Look. Eddie knows he can be a little uptight about these things, but. There are rules. If you become a vampire, you don’t need to go full gothic Count Von Dickhead or whatever, but you absolutely cannot just wander around in a puffy vest and light-wash jeans. 

“Why not?” says Steve. He’s leaning back in an armchair, sipping on a bloodbag like it’s a goddamn juicebox. “What, are the vampire police going to arrest me?” 

He pauses. “Wait. There aren’t vampire police, are there?”

“No,” says Eddie. “Probably not. I don’t know. But there are standards which you are refusing to uphold, Steven.”

“Thought you were all about hating conformity, Edward,” Steve says. He’s got an obnoxiously cocky little smirk, the smug undead fucker. 

Eddie grimaces. “Don’t call me that, asswipe. Don’t you feel, like—the call of the night? The siren song of life coursing through fragile human veins? A hunger for destruction that those paltry plastic bags of blood can never truly slake?”

“The bloodbags aren’t so bad,” says Steve, around the straw. “Better than protein shakes.”

“I actually hate you,” Eddie tells him. “Vampirism is wasted on you.”

Steve noisily slurps the last of the blood out of the bottom of the bag. “Come on, you can’t really picture me in some Dracula getup, can you?”

The problem, of course, is that Eddie really, really can. When Robin had read him in on the whole situation, obviously he’d been horrified and concerned—but also, a whole wing of his brain had immediately been cordoned off to work overtime imagining Steve in elaborate Dark Prince regalia, maybe leaning elegantly out of a castle window on the moors, gazing into the foggy dusk. Velvet might’ve been involved.

“...guess not,” says Eddie. It doesn’t sound incredibly convincing to his own ears, but Steve just shrugs and gets up to throw the bloodbag away. 

“There you go, man,” he says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s the 80s. Vampires can be whatever we wanna be.”

———

It gets way too easy to forget about Steve’s condition, until Eddie ends up having to haul him out of a bar in Indy before they get banned for life.  

“Simmer down, buddy,” Eddie says, pulling him into the shadow of the van. “Let’s get those fangs packed away before any of the nice villagers wander by with torches and pitchforks.”

“I’m good,” pants Steve. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Eddie lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, that’s why your eyes are glowing red and you’re, like, fully vamped out. Which, by the way, looks extremely dumb with the whole clean-cut vibe you decided to rock tonight.”

“Fuck you, I look great,” says Steve, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s not wrong, it’s just not relevant to how he also looks extremely dumb like this, wearing a pristine henley with fangs hanging out in the parking lot for anyone to see.

“So what the hell happened in there, man? I was finally starting to get somewhere with Todd, and…” Eddie trails off in dawning realization.

“Holy shit, am I—I’m like your territory, aren’t I? Your stupid vampire brain got all screwy and decided to loop me in with Robin and the kids as part of your freaky human coven.”

“Uh,” says Steve. He looks unhappy in a shifty kind of way. “Something like that, maybe.”

“Wait, so, are Nancy and Jonathan—are you okay with them because they’re both already in the vamp pack? Is Vickie gonna have to be inaugurated before she and Robin can bone down?” Eddie perks up. “Shit, is there a ceremony? We could totally do a ceremony.” He bets he can get the kids to liberate some velour curtains from the drama club. With a few candles, they could get some serious atmosphere going.

“No, shut up, nobody’s doing a damn ceremony,” Steve groans. “Vickie’s fine.” 

“Okay,” says Eddie. “So…you gonna tell me what all that was about, then? Do I have to start running guys past you first so your vamp instincts don’t wig out? Or…hm, maybe Argyle’d be down to mess around sometime.”

Steve lets out an actual snarl with weird animal echoes, then claps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, muffled. The shadows around them seem darker somehow. 

“So I’m just not allowed to get laid ever again,” says Eddie slowly. “For vampire reasons.”

“Do whatever you want, man.” Steve’s still got his hand pressed tight over his mouth. 

“And it’s…just me?” Eddie peers at the tightness around Steve’s eyes; the way he’s scowling stubbornly at his feet. “Huh. Kind of…possessive, Harrington.”

“It’s—weird,” says Steve miserably, dropping his hand at last. “I know it’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs, biting down on the grin he can feel tugging at his mouth. “Lucky for you, I’m into that shit.”

“What?” Steve frowns. “You’re…”

“Always wanted a vampire boyfriend,” says Eddie. “Like, are you kidding? I would’ve sold my fucking soul at 15 for something like that.”

“I’m starting to feel a little objectified here,” says Steve, but he’s smiling, and he reaches out to snag Eddie’s belt loop and tug him stumbling closer. “Just in it for the fangs, huh?”

“Well, you’re kind of a shitty vampire, actually.” Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “So I guess I must just be in it for you.”

Steve hesitates, searching Eddie’s face. Stray red lights are still sparking like embers in Steve’s irises. “Okay, but—you’re in it? Right?”

“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Bunnicula. I’ll send the vampire police after you, just watch me,” says Eddie, and kisses him.

[tealvenetianmask]

Thoughts about Striker being a "supremacist:"

On the surface, he's sort of a social class activist/ Robin Hood archetype. I think he truly thinks of himself this way. But when Blitz calls him a supremacist, who's he a supremacist against exactly? It's imps. This guy hates imps (and also identifies as one, even though he's clearly some sort of hybrid, which is interesting).

Let me show you what I mean. The short version is that he's the self-hating minority bigot trope, and it's executed really well.

"Blue Bloods"

"Disgusting, rich, pompous goetia"

"Some of us have everything we care about taken away by fuckers like you."

"You don't get to talk over me. . . all you ever do is try to talk over us."

"Once I split your neck open and let you choke on your own blue blood, you won't be worth any more than the tomb stone you'll be buried under."

So . . . first, he doesn't actually say a lot that's solely about royals, and ALL of the quotes above are about how royals look down on people like him, NOT about any inherent flaws that they have. They're about class, not race, unless you count "blue blood" as race. I don't. It's tied directly to money. "Disgusting" comes up in reference to Blitz's relationship with Stolas, but the words "rich" and "pompous" follow immediately. Striker hates royals because he hates that society places them above him.

Imps

"Pathetic."

"You little things aint worth the cleanup."

"Oh I remember how easy you are to choke the life out of, little one."

"Blitz, come on. You know the two of us are superior to most of our kind."

"I still think it's embarrassing. You're wasting a lot of potential relying on a weak little . . ."

"Vermin"

I think that this is where Striker's worldview comes into clearer focus. He thinks that Moxxie and Millie (and by extension MOST imps) are inferior to him. The word "vermin" is particularly telling. There's something visceral about his disgust for "lesser" imps.

I think Striker worries that they reflect who he really is. I think he truly believes that imps are inferior to higher class demons, and he fears that if he doesn't prove himself to be special (through violent dominance), he's vermin himself.

Notice how in the image below, his edge over Moxxie is all about size and physical strength- the things he implies throughout the episode make him the superior being. Look at that wide smile. He loves the feeling of being superior.

Relationships between imps and royals

"You are so above sucking on a disgusting rich pompous goetia . . ."

"kill the unkillable . . . starting with the one that treats you like a plaything."

"Blitzy"

"You two are both embarrassments to our kind for meddlin' with blue bloods to begin with. But at least loud mouth here has the sense to only fuck his rich bitch, instead of being a little purse dog."

"This worthless little pet reeks of his over bloated master. I'll at least enjoy getting rid of him."

Striker clearly sees these relationships as imps lowering themselves. It doesn't seem to occur to him even for a moment that these relationships might involve genuine care because he sees all interactions between social classes as being about power and "who wins."

Notice that despite in theory caring about the power dynamics, Striker puts most of his shaming language on the imps in the relationships, and uses demeaning language to do it- "embarrassments, purse dog, little pet," as if they're at fault (for being used, in his view . . .?) and should be ashamed.

I thought about delving more into why Striker sees Blitz as closer to his own level, and I think it comes down to the things he values (physical strength, willingness to kill, detachment/independence), which are not the things that we the audience end up liking the most about Blitz. He misses the point of what actually makes our boy great, basically. 😍

I've spent a lot of time reading and watching videos about real life white supremacists because I like to be miserable, and . . . yeah, this character really shares their view that some people are inferior to others, and that the traits that make them inferior are inherent and immutable. The people he hates just aren't the ones he'd have us believe he hates.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Observant

Being the Hand's young, second wife came with a lot of responsibilities, one of which was mellowing the frustrations of your husband.

Otto Hightower x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, age difference/age gap, smut (piv, slight dub con, degradation kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, anal fingering, dacryphilia, sadism, praise kink) fluff I guess, typos, etc.

A/N: so i made a poll on what to write and fluff won and this is literally pwp but it has a fluffy ending (???) so it counts HAHAHAH IDK OTTO BRAIN ROT. LOBOTOMY ME IDC I HAVE TO GO TO WORK NOW BYE. A great day to be an otto fucker amirite HAHAHAH cross posted on ao3

You take in a breath the moment you reach the Hand's office. A chill runs down your spine as the night air seeps through your robe and night dress.

In truth, you figured your husband would have appreciated not being interrupted by you, though his pointed instruction otherwise, but there was another truth you answered to: that is, the ache between your legs that your fingers could not quell.

Even now, there was a heat that spread, which only intensified at the thoughts you knew would come to life the moment you knocked on your husband's office door. So you do.

"Who is it?" the deep voice snapped with as much intensity as a rabid dog.

Your belly instantly rolls. You rub is as you tighten your robe with one hand. The other, which was holding your lamp, shivers under its weight. You weakly manage to muster, "tis I, my lord."

A beat of silence.

You stiffen at the sound of heavy footsteps marching your way. A soft gasp leaves your lips when the door swings open and the face of the Lord Hand was glares at you.

"What is it, girl?" Otto hisses, both his hands resting on the sides of the door opening. His frame overwhelms you. His eyes are tired and his jaw is tense. 

Yes, you did always feel like some petulant little girl under the scrutiny of your much older husband. You lick your lips and exhale deeply to calm yourself. Simply, you remind him of his own words from earlier today, "tis the hour of the owl."

Lord Hightower is unmoved.

"I've come to fetch you."

A vein at the side of his neck threatens to pop. He pulls away and heads to his desk, "I have much to do, thanks to the fucking king."

You purse your lips at his words, thinking about the said man. Aegon was around your age, if not a bit younger, and at some point you had been friends, until you were promised to his grandfather.

You walk up to Otto's side and he rather instantly makes a spectacle of his abundant papers. He rants heatedly about it for a good moment, before turning to you. His face is worn and his shoulders squared, "I will not waste my time further by explaining this to you. Leave."

Otto places a hand on your bum and pushes you off. You budge, for after all, he was a man much bigger than you, even if no longer in his prime. Your hand darts to his desk to keep yourself upright, and the hand holding your lamp grips it firmly so that it would not slip. You return to your previous position as the man continues with his work.

"L e a v e," he drags out with audible vexation, "now."

"No."

He freezes.

"You will leave," you correct "—this room. Tis the hour of the owl."

Otto turns to you, offended, "you command me?"

You clench you jaw, "you command yourself. I am simply your obedient servant, lord husband."

Your lord husband stands. He towers over you and presses close, so close that he takes your lamp and puts it out, leaving it ignored on his desk, "am I not commanding you now?"

Your heart races when he takes your neck, thumb pressing on your throat as he rubs it. He can feel your raging pulse and it excites him, but not as much as your next words do, "you are you unkind when you are exhausted."

"To whom?" 

"To everyone," you mutter, "you must retire."

Otto releases your neck and heads for the door, "I will not."

Your brows furrow as you watch him storm off.

You realize only what he meant after following him into your shared chambers.

He grabs you from behind and sinks his face into your neck. You feel his beard against your skin and his hands eagerly clawing down your body. He pushes you into bed and you manage to look over your shoulder for the few seconds as he undoes his breeches. Not a second later, he pushes you on the sheets and pulls your skirt up.

You whimper into the cushion, bringing your face to the side as he rests his weight between your shoulders. He clenches his jaw as he grabs your hip. You obediently shift on your knees and gasp when he rubs his groin into yours. He sighs out a string of profanities when he feels your wetness. He pulls back and looks at the softness of your thighs, inspecting the pooling lust on your cunt. He rubs your clit, "my cherubic wife, so ready to be taken by her aged husband."

Your belly trembles as he uses your warm slick to flick your sensitive nub, leaving you to do nothing but curl your toes and whine into the sheets.

"Body so eager to be molded by my cock," he mutters. He slowly sinks two fingers into your weeping folds. He stretches you with his fingers and sinks deep, relishing the warm stickiness coating his digits, "so pretty like this. More so with my seed mixed with your arousal, dripping down your puckered cunt."

He continues to serve you with his fingers until pressure builds in your stomach. Then, with no warning and little care, Otto replaces his fingers with his hardened cock and fucks you thoroughly from behind. The hand he hand by your shoulder blades tingle into your hair. His other hand tirelessly works on your clit, expertly rubbing them that your body writhes under his weight.

You are trapped beneath him, however. He need only push on your head and lock your legs with his; you can do nothing else to do but take his cock and his fingers.

The sound of wet slapping skin and your uncontrollable whimpers dampen out the creaking and thudding of your bed against the stone wall. Quickly, your breathing began to grow strained and Otto gave no indication of slowing, especially not when he merited a scream from your lips from the pleasure building hotly in your stomach.

"Otto, Otto-" you begin to whine, nails ripping into the sheets, "w-wait— I-"

He furrows his brows at your words, offended that you would instruct him grant your reprieve. Just as he felt your slick building against his clothes? Even if he wanted to stop to catch his breath, he would not.

Alas, mortal man still was he, and his plowing had to slow. Slow, not stop. Though his arm began to tire, his fingers did not relent their assault on your swollen clit. He made up for any delays with slower but harsh flicks of his hip.

Your peak caught both of you off guard, and you came around his cock with a ghastly noise that made him stab your womb roughly in surprise. He stops moving altogether soon after.

Upon realizing the absolute bliss that seized your form, he puts all of his focus on your clit, wanting nothing but to make you shake and tighten around his wet cock as much as he possibly can.

The wind is knocked out if your lungs and your eyes water at the intensity of it all. And soon, it was all too much for you. It was all far too much, and yet he did not stop.

"Otto," your voice is hoarse as you sob into the dampened sheets, dampened with your tears and saliva.

He does not acknowledge you at all. He continues rubbing your pulsing clit with his fingers no matter how much your belly shook or your thighs trembled. He adores your mousy noises. He pulls your head back by your hair bit and slowly begins to thrust into you until the bed begins to creak at the intensity again.

It's too much, and the noise that rips out of you is nothing but further indication of this.

Your body struggles beneath him, your parted thighs that turned to putty were now shifting frantically in the hope to be free of this overwhelming sensation. You clench and unclench around him, hips pushing forward and back in an attempt to break away, but it, in fact, only makes your heady husband double down on his efforts to keep you in place.

His fingers only then finally leave your abused clit, but any form of recuperation you could get is stolen by the way both his veiny hands grip your hips and his manhood invades your cunny, intent on staking its claim.

He grunts as he looks down at your helpless form. He does nothing but use you for his pleasure and he cares little of whether or not your pretty pussy will tighten and quiver around him again.

Otto rubs your bum then coats his thumb with your slick before pushing it into your vacant rear, enough to hook into you and to make you squeal.

Soon enough, he can feel his legs ache and his belly burn. He ignores the former and his energy is sustained by the promise of filling his shaking bride with his come and watching it drip out of her.

Otto is silent while you noisily protest beneath him. Just as he begins to feel his balls tighten, he feels your cunt squeeze him again. Your neck strains as he bends down to lean into you, "take it, come slut. You know want you want to."

"S't-too much," you whine, tears rolling down your face.

Otto could not care less and begins to rub your clit again. You scream out in response and it's enough to make him reach his peak.

He slams into you with no steady tempo. He cares only for the pleasure raging on his cock and wants only to empty his balls into his warm, raggedly bride. As he does just that, feeling come and sweat drip from your garment to the sheet, he takes a few more thrusts, shallow ones where he does not move out of you very much, to ensure he thoroughly stuff all his heated lust into you.

And ever the dutiful husband, he plays with your clit for as long as it takes to make you scream and spasm into another pretty peak

Your nose is running as you sob, but the twist of your expression tells him that you were enjoying every second of it. He laughs, deeply, contentedly, pinning you against him and the bed. He doesn't listen to you until he is more than assured every bit of pleasure is wrung out of your darling body.

You begin to whine again like the tearful babe you were. You whisper an exhausted plea, "please, no more, Otto. Please."

He shushes you and pinches your clit, just to see you flinch and hear you beg some more. And beg you do, "n-no more, please," through sniffles.

He grips your jaw and kisses your salty cheek. He pulls you both to your sides, unwilling to pull out just yet. He has to ascertain his seed catches in your snug womb. He massages your breasts, imagining them get bigger for the babe he fucked into you. He pinches your nipples, making you whine again.

"O-Otto-"

"All is well, wife," he mutters, releasing his hold, only because you pushed his hand away. You lean into him as he rubs your belly. He rubs your nape with his nose, "good girl."

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Don't Wanna Miss A Thing

Complete fluff, tiny bit of angst but mainly cheesy fluff.

Originally this was going to be a vampire Eddie fic but I changed my mind halfway through writing, I hope you still enjoy ❤️

Lyrics from Aerosmith's I don't wanna miss a thing

💞

Eddie seeks out the sound of your heartbeat. It soothes him, reminds him that you're alive and that the horrors of the Upside Down are now over.

He lays beside you on his bed and rests his head on your chest, the tension of the day melts away and he listens to the steady beats of your heart.

When the final showdown occurred between Hawkins and The Upside Down, Eddie was sure he wouldn't survive, he had already cheated death once when he survived the demobats attack; there was no way he would be lucky this time.

By some miracle he did survive. It was you who nearly died, who had nearly been torn apart by a Demogorgon- it certainly did some damage before you and Nancy torched the fucker.

Then you were on the ground and barely moving, blood seeping through your shirt and your heartbeat was slow, too slow. A soft smile graced your features as Eddie held you and you whispered those three little words.

I love you. Words Eddie had been wanting to hear for weeks but never thought it could be possible, now they were a deathbed confession.

Things for you were touch and go for days as you were whisked away to some government hospital and Eddie was a panicked, anxious mess; not even his strongest weed helped calm his racing mind.

When you were at the hospital Eddie heard no news for days and resigned himself to the worst. However he promised himself that if you did pull through, then he wasn't going to hide how he felt, he would tell you that he loved you too.

It seemed like a hopeless dream at that point but then you did survive and Eddie didn't waste anymore time, he confessed his feelings and the two of you had been inseparable since.

Fuck, he could have lost you. Nightmares still plagued Eddie about how still you were or the blood all over your clothes...the sheer terror he felt when you whispered I love you then closed your eyes and said no more.

The only reason he knew you were alive is because El found a faint pulse.

Needless to say he never took for granted the fact that you survived, against all odds you were here sleeping soundly beside him, the soft sound of your breathing was like a balm to his chaotic thoughts.

He peers up at you smiling as he sees you're fast asleep, expression peaceful, a tiny smile on your face. Briefly Eddie wonders what you're dreaming of? He hopes it's of him; just dreams that are sweet and untroubled.

They had enough of trouble for a lifetime.

Eventually Eddie begins to feel tired, he leans up just for a moment to press soft kisses to your forehead, your eyes, nose and then your lips.

Nearly losing you and the thought of never seeing your beautiful face again, hearing your laughter or your voice had scared the shit out of Eddie. So every day he's with you he thanks his lucky stars that you're alive.

He never gets tired of memorising every little detail of you, listening intently to you and holding you as close as possible to him whenever he can.

Eddie intends to never miss a moment of your time together because he's lucky that you're still here and in his life.

And he doesn't want to miss a thing.

❤️

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating, and I wonder what you're dreaming, wondering if it's me you're seeing.

And then I kiss your eyes and thank god we're together and I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever.

Forever and ever

I don't wanna close my eyes, I don't wanna fall asleep. 'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing.

I don't wanna miss a thing- Aerosmith

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto's little sister finding out her husband got sealed by her big brother and going nuts

Pairing: Geto's little sister x husband!Gojo

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: You thought you lost him forever, your big brother. Until Shibuya brings you back to reality, until your beloved husband gets sealed by none other than your dead big brother. Until you show your enemy what you're made off...

Warnings: this is a emotional rollercoaster, (y/n) is a bad bitch but damn that just hurts, drama over drama, cursing over cursing, I worked so hard to get this fic out tonight so please show some love 😭not proofread yet, will do that tomorrow!

„I’ll leave now.“

You look up from your magazine, furrowing your eyebrows at your oh so precious husband.

“Weren’t you suppose to leave…Like two hours ago?”, you question innocently.

“I wasn’t done in the bathroom.”

“You’re so vain that it hurts.”

“Watch your mouth, Geto”, he warns you by your former last name.

With a swift motion he lands on top of you, large figure almost swallowing you whole while you grin at him triumphally. Were you just teasing Satoru for him to grab you by the throat ever so slightly, for him to stare at you with his dirty blue eyes?

Definitely.

“Or what, Gojo?”, you bite back, emphasizing every syllable of his last name with so much provocation that it takes all his strength to stop himself from fucking you until you can’t stand anymore.

He never imagined you to lay under him this way. You, the sister of his best friend. You, who always seemed so threatful unbothered by him. Just before Suguru decided to leave all of you behind, just before he massacred both of your parents, you decided to give him a chance. And you didn’t even change your mind when he was forced to kill your big brother.

“You want me to stay here and leave our students out there alone?”, he hushes against your lips.

Because if you would, he’d definitely stay here all night.

“You know I’m always up for you, but not tonight. They actually called me as well when you were busy doing your pretty hair in the bathroom. Something serious is going on there. I’ll join as soon as I’m ready here.”

Since your brother decided to kill everyone apart from jujutsu sorcerers, you were always keen to do the exact opposite by saving as many people as possible. As much as you love him still, as much as you do in fact somehow understand him, he went down a path you couldn’t follow. He was like your older twin. Not only by looks, but also your cursed techniques were the same, made you a powerful weapon against these fucking curses.

Well, now you’re your own weapon as it seems. Your eyes stare up at your now husband who still looks at you with the same affection in his eyes like more than 10 years ago.  

No, you aren’t alone. After all, you’ll always have Satoru by your side.

“Get your pretty ass moving then. We’ve got some work to do.”

-later in Shibuya-

You desperately try to ignore the way your guts turn, yanking down the busted streets as if you’re haunted.

He’s sealed.

Satoru Gojo, your newly husband, the one and only who stuck to you all these damn years, the love of your fucking life.

Sealed, gone in the wind, trapped in a tiny box.

But as if that wasn’t enough, rumours reached your ear. Rumours about none other than your big brother being responsible for this. Your big, dead brother.

Your feet clash against the hard ground underneath, body sprinting towards what looks like a new battlefield. Whoever this fucker is will pay for what he’s done. Not only to your husband, but to your brother as well.

And what about your students? You didn’t arrive on time, not a single update reached your ear when you entered the curtain, eyes wide open in disbelief by all the death surrounding you. If that thing hurt a single one of them, if a single jujutsu sorcerer lost their life here…

You’ll lose it completely.

The second a wave of what looks like ice begins to dart towards the recognizable outlines of people you waste no time, shooting a bunch of grade one curses their way while using one as a curtain to hold back the ice.

“(y/n)…Is…Is that you?”

Yuji. A few other students from Kyoto, Utahime, Panda, Kusakabe. They’re injured, but alive. What about the rest? Where are Mei Mei, Toge, Nanami and that old Zenin fart? You give yourself a little shake, eyes focused on your curse and the wave of ice in front of you. Now is not the right time to think about all of that. Your priority is to finally catch that fucker who uses your brother’s appearance and saving who’s here at the moment.

And the most important, get your sealed husband back.

“You have some fucking nerve, showing up and making such a mess. And now you’re even dumb enough to attack other jujutsu sorcerers. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, eyes focused in front of you. Maybe that person just looks like him, Suguru. You found peace with the fact that he’s gone a long time ago, it’s simply not possible to see his gentle eyes ever again. You accepted the fact that he won’t trade his pokemon cards with you, that the time of getting on his nerves while secretly loving him dearly is over. No one can copy him, no one can-

“You are pretty late, (y/n).”

No one can sound like him. You shake your head in utter disbelief, mind desperately trying to process the fact that this sounded exactly like Suguru Geto, that the frame behind the falling curtain of ice and purple is…

Him.

You can’t move an inch. Instead, you just stand there in silence, staring him up and down. This looks just like him, this sounds like him. Fuck, this even smells like him, radiates the same energy as him.

But no.

The way he said your name wasn’t the same. It missed the soft tone in his voice, how it always lightened up by his small smile when seeing you.

“And you’re in big trouble.”

Is it an hallucination, some type of strange technique? No, it has to be his body, it is his body. Somebody else seems to control it.

And that someone will pay for using him, for tarnishing his memory.

“Is my own little sister not able to recognize me? I guess that’s not as bad as getting betrayed by her, though.”

“Spare me with that bullshit. It seems like you really know nothing about me and my big brother. What do you want me to do, huh? Break down in tears and cry, believe that you’re actually him? I will wipe your ass from this earth without even blinking. But before that, I want my husband back”, you his through gritted teeth.

“What betrayed me, little (y/n)? How did you know it wasn’t him?”

His figure comes closer, makes you urge to touch him just once. This is still his body, a body that reminds you of all the things you’ve been through. The serious business of trading pokemon cards that you did until he left, your shared training sessions, him introducing you to Satoru, him holding you in his arms when you’ve got your first heartbreak only for him to hold you back when you tried to set that poor boy on fire. This body still holds all of those memories.

But it doesn’t hold him anymore.

Your husband lives, though. He might be sealed, but he’s still somewhere. And that fucker has him, you just know it.

You shake them off, those feelings of melancholy. Time to focus on reality. And reality is that Satoru killed your big brother a year ago, that this thing in front of you has nothing in common with him except his appearance.

“No one will ever by as charming as he was. Now, will you give me my husband back without a fight and let me kill you? I’m not in the mood for a talk with you, y’know.”

It’s impossible and you know it. There is no way in hell this thing will give up its plan and just hand Satoru over. But at least this will buy you some time.

“You should know best that you don’t stand a chance against his body, don’t you think?”

A disregarding huff escapes your lips while you straighten your shoulders and stare right into the eyes of the big brother you’ve lost a year ago. God knows you really tried to stay cool, that you were desperate to keep your composure. But the second it grins at you with his charming face, it’s over and out.

“You should know that I wasn’t only better at pokemon trading, moron.”

“Stand behind me, I’ve got this.”

“But (y/n)-“

You don’t waste another minute. With a blast of another wave of different curses, you hit him with full force. Over the last few years, you absorbed every curse you stumbled upon. Especially the night parade was the perfect opportunity for you to steal your big brother’s precious curses. And even though you swore you yourself that you’ll never lose them, that they will remain in loving memory by your side, this seems like the perfect time to release them.

For a brief moment, you feel like crying, the way it just laughs at you with his voice, wearing his yukata, even wearing his hairstyle. How did it even come so far? How did this thing end up in your big brother’s body?

He would have wanted this, right? That you destroy his body in order to stop this madness. Despite all the horrible things he’s done, Suguru would have never wanted jujutsu sorcerers to get hurt, especially not Satoru. No, he would have never allowed your husband to get sealed, he wouldn’t let anyone attack you this roughly.

Your husband…How is he doing? Is he still alive? You feel like throwing up, just the minor thought of him potentially dying in this seal…No one was ever able to get out, some of the strongest sorcerers ended up in that cube.

No.

This needs to stop.

“Get yourself together”, you hiss to yourself, shaking off your stinging thoughts immediately.

This is not the time for sadness or grief.

This is the time for pure rage.

“I will make you pay for every sin you committed with his body”, you shout towards him while attacking him from underneath.

This thing is so fucking fast, using Suguru’s powers so efficiently that you’re almost not able to follow its movements.

You clench your hands into fists, eyes narrowed while thick fury pumps through your veins. Get yourself together, this isn’t only about taking revenge.

This is about getting your husband back.

“What would he think about you, seeing you this way? I know how disappointed he was when you left him to die, leaving him for his former best friend. And I thought I am cruel”, it spits at you, shooting another wave of curses your way.

“You know absolutely nothing about him, let alone me. You’re nothing but a parasite in his body, a bug I’ll crush underneath my heel.”

You draw yourself closer, keeping him busy in hand to hand combat. You were always better than Suguru when it came to fighting without any curses around. Where the hell does he keep that damned cube?

“You and me, we’re both parasites, (y/n). But unlike you, I can still look into the mirror without being disgusted of the way I turned out.”

“That’s because you’re looking into his gorgeous face, idiot”, you bite back, landing a full-on hit against his ribcage.

“Is that Satoru Gojo’s wife?”, Noritoshi Kamo mutters in sheer disbelief, eyes not even able to follow your rapid movements.

“Yep, the one and only”, Panda confirms dryly.

“Take a few steps back. She’ll definitely freak out-“

“RUN!”, Yuji cries on top of his lungs.

Countless courses roam around you and your big brothers’ corpse, fighting each other for dear life. He can’t help but admire you, the spark that gleams in your eyes, the way you don’t even try to hold back despite the stinging fact that you’re fighting against your brothers’ body. You look so threatful that it almost takes his breath away.

If it wasn’t for the last weapon he has in store.

“You’re not giving it everything, you’re holding back!”, he screams over the deafening noise around you both, making your veins stand out even more.

You see nothing but red, nothing but the shell of the brother you used to love, nothing but a monster that trapped your husband. That thing…That fucking thing straight out of hell.

“Uzumaki.”

The word leaves your mouths at the same time. Like in trance you stand there, watch as a giant wave of condensed cursed energy builds up behind Suguru’s frame, watch as it shoots towards you like an arrow.

You aren’t a fool, fully aware of the fact that you might get killed right here on the spot. This is your only chance to win this fight, to leave your brother’s body where it belongs, to free your husband out of that things’ grasp. But…are you strong enough?

“I can’t believe you’re already stronger than me. Look at you, (y/n).”

You kneeled down in front of him, took his hand into yours gently while desperately trying to supress a sob. This was it, the time you had to say your final goodbye to your best friend.

“Well, I just stole a whole bunch of your curses at that parade. They did taste like shit though.”

His kind smile radiated through the dark alley, right through your heavy heart. This…this couldn’t be the end. You weren’t even able to spend one last evening with him, to show him the pokemon cards you stole some kid.

“I don’t want you to go”, you finally gave in.

Faster than he was able to react, you wrapped your desperate arms around him, rested your head against his bloody chest. This couldn’t be the end, Suguru couldn’t leave you like that.

“I fear I have to, (y/n). You still got Satoru-“

“Satoru is not you”, you interrupted him immediately.

“Satoru is not my big brother. Satoru will never be you.”

“I’m so proud of the person you have become, (y/n). You are far more than a normal jujutsu sorcerer, way better than all those monkeys. You are my special, my everything. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You’ll always stay (y/n) Geto to me. And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

Your eyes widen. Suguru, he firmly believed in you, never even second-guessed your abilities.

“You…just beat me.”

Your heavy breath hung in the air between both of you, body collapsing onto the ground from sheer exhaustion. What did Satoru just say? What did even happen the last few seconds?

“Babe, you…You were actually able to beat me.”

You…beat none other than Satoru Gojo?

“Impossible”, you murmured to yourself, staring at your bloody hands in sheer disbelief.

“You became so damn strong. My god, I’m so proud of you, (y/n)! You just have to work your ass off even more. Come on, get up, attack me again.”

And Satoru, the love of your life, your precious husband, the strongest…You were able to beat him.

You take a deep breath in, whole body being on fire. This is your moment. And you won’t let a cheap copy of your brother defeat you like that.

Like in trance, you dash forward along with your thick cursed energy, hands stretched out for him. One last look into his chocolate brown eyes, one last glance at his usually so soft features before you hit him with your fest shoot, a toe-curling scream of agony and rage escaping your lips while slamming him into the ground. Deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Back to where he belongs: six feet under.

“Give me my husband back”, you spit at him, grabbing his throat so harshly that you can feel his windpipe struggle against your palm.

Instead of replying, he just plainly laughs at you, bloodshot eyes almost piercing through you. That’s enough.

“Is this how you let it end, Suguru? Are you really letting this moron take control over your body like that! Come on, defend yourself, give Satoru back to me!”, you cry on top of your lungs, staring into the brown orbs you used to know so well.

“Pathetic. I am the one who’s in control of this body now, stupid girl!”

“I still have the shiny flareon you gifted me when I was 6, I’m always carrying it with me. I’m still sleeping in the shirt I stole from you when you were 16. You’ve done many things wrong in your way too short life, please do this one last thing right! Please give Satoru back to me.”

Your heart almost stops when his trembling arms yanks into the air, uncontrollably roaming around his Yukata.

Until he stretches it right in front of your face. The prison realm. Your husband.

“This…this can’t be possible! I am the one who is in control over this body!”

Your body goes numb, widen eyes staring at his arm while your heart skips a beat. This is really him, your Suguru. He really is strong enough to even outstand death.

His fingertips brush over your cheek ever so gently. Fuck, you feel like breaking down and crying. This right in front of you is your big brother, the person you thought you lost a year ago, the man who slipped through your fingers when he was 16 without you even noticing. You weren’t there for him the way you should have been, weren’t able to drag him back onto your side, weren’t able to save him from his unnecessary death.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I will always love you with all my heart.”

But you know you have to go.

Now.

With one last glimpse you yank yourself into the air, hand holding onto that little cube for dear life.

Focus on the mission.

“We need to go, now”, you yell towards your students, sending a curse in the form of a dragon their way.

You straighten your shoulders, chase away the memories that threaten to destroy you completely.

“Hey hot thing, long time no see. Guess you were just as surprised as me when you saw him again, huh?”, you mutter towards the cube in your hands that has its bright blue eyes set on you.

“I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’ll get you out of there, Satoru. After all, we’re the strongest…”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @tachiharazsstuff @kawaiiakamaru @lilacsinjuly @nazeeraswife @eva-616 @revrse @thel0v3hashira143 @arehzhera @circe143 @mitsuristoleme @sugaremedy @sugurulefttesticle @sweetchildcloud @invmakitoge @a-daydreamers-day @rhinara-vy

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] corsica continues to inspire, even when away from the heat of the sun. part of the hot monaco nights series.

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), a lil hint of plot, use of explicit language, unprotected sex (plan appropriately, folks), p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), google-translated french (i cannot and will not be stopped), em dashes strike back, once again time is a social construct

a/n: more horny fuckers in corsica (crowd cheers)! longest one yet!! struggled getting this written but ultimately happy with how it turned out, so hopefully y'all are, too. my biggest thanks as always to @lecrep @leclerc-hs @multiseb21 for their support & encouragement 🤍 enjoy, bbys! xx

As always, this was Charles's fault.

Well, kinda.

Okay, not at all, but, like, that’s beside the point.

What the point actually was that this was your favorite way to have him.

His hands gripped tightly into the plush of your hips, thumbs guiding the way your pelvis lazily drew patterns.  His cock was hard and hot and buried deep inside you, and the Monégasque was fighting all of his instincts not to roll the two of you over so he could find a way to sate the burning heat in his own core.

“Chérie,” he whined, hazel eyes still heavy-lidded as he’d only awoken a short while before.  Other parts of him had been awake for much longer, though, given the way he’d been grinding his cock against your ass before you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Relax, baby,” you chided with a heavy sigh, one hand on his toned chest while the other toyed with your pearl.  “You’re on holiday—enjoy it.  We don’t have anywhere to be.”

“But this is torture, mon cœur,” the man groaned, hands trying to urge you faster.  Still, you resisted and shot him a devilish look.

“This,” you rolled your hips tightly and flexed your walls around his throbbing member, “is nothing.  I can make it torture if you’d prefer that, though, hm?”

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose, a groan stifled in his throat.  His hands traced over the tanned expanse of your thighs before trailing to the small of your back under the faded oversized shirt of his you’d donned after he’d fucked you within an inch of your life the night before.

“At least let me kiss you, hm? Donne-moi quelque chose, s'il te plaît,” Charles nearly begged, the French tumbling from his lips as you ground yourself in slow, lazy circles.  He needed more—more friction, more skin, more touch, anything.  He wasn’t one to beg, usually, but he was more than willing in this instance.

“So needy,” you teased, but the way his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue slid against your own had your hips bucking in such a way that gave away your hand; you had a straight flush but his was royal.  A choked sound left the back of your throat as you moved your hips quicker, one of the hands in your hair moving to grab the flesh of your ass to urge you on.

As you pulled away for a moment, Charles didn’t waste his chance and used his other hand to pull back the hem of the t-shirt you wore and latch his plump lips to one of your pert nipples in a way that made your toes curl and your eyes close tight as stars sparked.

“Fuck,” you swore, “I–”

“So needy,” he teased like an absolute little shit before you swatted at his head and he took his golden opportunity.

Banding an arm around your back, the driver pulled you tight to his chest and planted his feet into the bed before driving his hips up into your own in a way that made your insides feel like molten lava. With a filthy cry, you grabbed tight to the sheets on either side of your boyfriend as he set the new pace.

“Je pensais que je te l'avais enlevé hier soir,” he grunted in your ear as he speared against something blindingly delicious within you, and his hand palmed at your ass with your tits pressed tight against his chest.  You knew it was good for him, too, when he started slipping into Italian, blurring the lines between the languages he knew so well until they were practically an unintelligible mess.

“Charles–I’m gonna—ah!,” you started to warn as the edges of your vision blurred and the heat in the pit of your core started seeping through the cracks in your bones.

“Je sais, minette,” he grit as he felt your cunt spasm tightly around him, his own orgasm careening towards him at a blinding speed like an avalanche in the Dolomites.  “Putain–,” he swore as his hips bucked spasmodically into you, pressing into the wet velvet heat as far as your core would allow as every part of him chased whatever would bring him closer to his completion.

You felt him shudder beneath you as his hands held you tight against him; he wanted to feel all of you, and you certainly were in no place to complain as your own orgasm started to recede.  You basked in the warmth of one another, the way your hips slotted so perfectly against his, how your hearts pounded against each other’s chests.

Part of you didn’t want to break the blissful quiet of the post-orgasm glow, but your pride had other qualms.  “You’re a sore loser, you know that?,” you teased as you rolled partway off your partner, hissing as you lost the comfortable stretch of his cock inside of you.

Chuckling softly, he shrugged as he turned his head to the side to see your heavy eyes.  “I have no idea what you are talking about—I was simply exercising a-a new strategy!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.  “You are unbelievable, Leclerc.”

“Unbelieve...ably good?,” he asked with a stupid grin that made you roll your eyes once more before you leaned in to kiss him once again.

“Unfortunately yes–”

“Say no more!,” he beamed before shooting out of bed, reinvigorated.  He disappeared for a few moments, your eyes closing as sleep tempted you once more.

You heard him pad back in and around to the side of the bed you’d rolled to, something warm and wet touching the inside of your thigh.  Gently, he cleaned you with a warm washcloth before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sleepyhead,” he teased gently as you popped your eyes open for just a moment to peek at him as he went about the room, tidying up from the night before.  You two had gotten a bit…wild, to put it mildly.

“I resemble that remark,” you quipped, eyes closed once more as you raised a finger in the air.  Soon enough, though, you were drifting back off to sleep, only to wake several hours later in the late afternoon.

There was a note on top of your phone on the bedside table, scribbled in his surprisingly neat half-print, half-cursive handwriting.  “Out for a run,” it read, a little heart and smiley face with its tongue sticking out accompanying it.  Unsure when he’d be back, you finally convinced yourself to slip out of bed and into a much-needed shower.  You smelled like a mix of salt and chlorine and citrus—heaven, to Charles, but the grit of it was a bit much to take.  Besides, you needed to wash your hair as the two of you had plans for the evening, and your hair had become a mess over the past few days.

Stripping out of the shirt you’d haphazardly thrown on the night before, you ducked under the warm spray of the shower once you’d managed to settle on a half-decent playlist.  Humming to yourself, you didn’t hear Charles come back as you neared the end of your shower.

Sitting on the bench at the end of the unmade bed, he watched you through the half-fogged glass of the shower as the scent of your soap drifted through the air and the warmth of the steam lingered at the threshold between the two rooms.  He shouldn’t want you as badly as he does, but there’s something about your connection that was more intoxicating than any alcohol or drug could ever try to rival.  Everything about you drew him in, pulled him closer and closer like he was caught in a whirlpool; you’d bewitched him—mind, body, and soul—and under no circumstance did he want the spell to be broken.

You caught sight of him as you stepped out and began toweling off, asking, “Good run?”

He nodded as he stood, finally kicking off his shoes and shucking himself out of his shorts and briefs.  “Not as good as this morning,” he wrinkled his nose at the qualifier, pecking your lips before restarting the shower so he, too, could join you in your newfound cleanliness.  “Good shower?”

“Not as good as this morning,” you conceded in teasing as you watched him slip under the water with a laugh.

As he showered, you went to work at the vanity, going through your neglected skincare routine and brushing the tangles from your freshly washed hair.  By the time it was wrapped in a towel and on its way to drying, Charles had finished his own shower and was drying off with the lone clean towel you’d left him (you desperately needed to do some laundry tomorrow).

Towel wrapped around his waist, he took up his seat on the bench once more, scrolling aimlessly on his phone to distract himself from how you leaned over the vanity as you carefully applied your makeup.  You’d abandoned the towel that had been around your body, tired of having to fight the damn thing to stay secured every two minutes.  Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before.

Charles, of course, did not mind this, but it certainly made it difficult to keep his focus on anywhere except the peek of your slit between your thighs and the curve of your tits every time you lent closer to the mirror in inspection.  It was dizzying, the way the blood rushed from his head to his…other head just at the mere sight of you.

Twitter half-held his attention for another five minutes, but that was all he could muster before he was stalking back to you and on his knees no less.  With a start and a gasp, you felt the heat of his tongue where you loved it most, eyes rolling back before you could catch yourself.  He hummed in response to the pitiful keening that left your lips.

“You are—fuck,” you started, caught off guard by the earnest press of Charles's thumb against your clit, “insatiable.  How do…how?” You had no idea where he pulled the stamina from, but you certainly weren’t complaining nor upset.

Stubbled open-mouth kisses pressed their way up your spine until he was standing behind you, caging you in with a hand on the vanity counter on either side of your hips.  “Quelque chose sur vous,” he breathed into the nape of your neck before planting a searing kiss there.  “I don’t know,” he shrugged with a groan as he rested his brow against your shoulder.

“Like I said earlier,” you teased softly as you turned in his arms, in the small cage he made with his arms against the countertop, “so needy.” The smell of his soap was still strong, but there was also something uniquely Charles, something you yourself could never get enough of.

He laughed at that, and you could feel the rumble of it where your abdomens met.  “Maybe,” he relented with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “but something tells me you are just as–”

You tutted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare finish that thought. At this rate we’ll never make it out tonight if you keep trying to fuck me,” you warned with a tilt of your head.

“But–”

“No buts.”

“Not even this one?,” he smirked, thinking himself something of a genius as the little shit fully palmed each cheek and pulled you in closer to press tightly against his toned body.

“Especially not that one!,” you swatted at his hands before he started running away from you and your faux-outrage, leaving you alone in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

An hour later he peeked his head in once more, dressed in a linen outfit perfect for a hot, humid, night on the Mediterranean. (Of course, this was something you’d helped him pick because Lord knows this man couldn’t be left to his own devices when it came to style; he had the style sense of a 14-year-old boy, and yet you loved him despite it—you were truly a saint.)  “Almost ready?,” he asked, eyes raking over the mid-length sleeveless silk dress you’d chosen, hair pulled into a messy French twist with simple gold accessories.  It wasn’t until he saw the slit clear up the middle of your thigh that he let out an exasperated sigh.  He was in for a long night.

Turns out, it wasn’t the worst thing ever.  Because by the time you’d made it back to the villa, you were both half-drunk on sangria and unable to keep your hands off one another…or, at least, more so than usual.

You’d gone to dinner and afterward, a small club where, in the darkened corner away from the flash of colored lights and drunken laughter of other revelers, you two made out like you were teenagers again.  He whispered naughty things in your ear, hot insistent hands slipping under your dress to grasp at the skin he so badly wanted to be pressed against—especially with how you’d toyed with him all night.  If you thought you were going to get away with grinding your ass against him, trailing the toe of your sandal up his legs during dinner, and whining in his ear with no shame…you had another thing coming.

With you bent over the back of the sofa, Charles shoved your dress over your hips where he chuckled in disbelief.  You smiled a Cheshire grin, knowing what he’d finally discovered for himself: you weren’t wearing any panties.

“You dirty girl,” he tsked in your ear as he pulled your back flush with his front, a strong arm around your middle in a way that was reminiscent of your midday fuck.  His hand smoothed over the plane of your belly and dipped into the sacred heat of your cunt to draw a whimper from your lips that he’d been desperate to hear all evening.  “So needy,” he teased as he ground his hard length against the curve of your ass and into the small of your back.

“Please–,” you pleaded with him, your sangria-addled mind having one desire and one desire, alone.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, chérie,” he hushed you as you bent back over and started arching your back for him: you were going to make this an offer he couldn’t refuse.  Groaning at the sight, he pressed the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance before slotting his pelvis against your own in one fell press of his hips.

He cursed, dropping his head down to rest against the space between your shoulder blades.  You wiggled your hips in desperation, needing friction—needing anything—to ease the ache between your legs. Hissing at the sensation, Charles nipped at the skin over your spine before soothing it with his tongue.  “Je sais, minette,” he groaned before starting a truly punishing rhythm with each stroke.  His hands gripped tight at your hips, only stopping for a moment to help you hitch one of your legs onto the back of the couch you were bent over which allowed his cock to grind against something deep within you.

You were hurtling fast and hard to your climax, and you could tell your partner wasn’t far behind with how his praises and curses tumbled from his lips in equal measure. The Monégasque was a talker in bed, you’d come to learn, but even more so now that his mind’s filter had been soaked in shitty sangria.

“So close–Charles, pl-please,” you whined pitifully before a hand entwined in your now-ruined bun and tugged, wrenching a choked gasp from your throat. You babbled half-incoherently as he held you against him once more and his other hand snaked around the front of your hip to rub tight circles over your pearl with that perfect rasp of much-needed friction.

“Jouis pour moi, chérie,” he gritted in your ear, and you didn’t need to be told twice as waves of pleasure crashed over your body.  Warmth spread from your core to the tips of your toes, breath caught in your throat as you rode the earliest waves.  Your hips bucked insistently against him, his own losing their rhythm at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him and pulling him headfirst into a blinding high of his own.

With a choked gasp and your name on his lips, you felt as he came inside you just moments after your own orgasm. Panting and positively fucked out, you dropped down over the couch once more, slowly but surely floating back down into your body. Charles draped over you in exhaustion, catching his own breath as one of his hands found yours and traced over it mindlessly with gentle fingers.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to figure out I wasn’t wearing any underwear,” you pondered aloud like the thought of your bare cunt under that dress hadn’t just resulted in the fuck of your life.  You were a tease—and an unabashed one, at that.

“Mon Dieu, chérie.”

final note: one more part for our stay in corsica before we depart the island! hoping you guys will enjoy it! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!

[amourtoken]

Oh my god I've been talking to @as-above-so-below1000 about this but imagine your boyfriend being roommates with Matt and you end up moving in cause you're always over anyway. ALSO this isn't edited I did it at work forgive me I'll rewrite it to be even grosser asap

cw: cheating (deserved tbh), Matt's evil, raw sex, recording, oral (f receiving), breeding, overstimulation, daddy kink matt u know it, dacryphilia, praise (a miracle tbh), belly bulge, squirting, ect.

You thought moving in would mean your boyfriend would pay more attention to you but honestly it just feels like you're a glorified roommate even more now. You do your chores plus his, he spends more time out with other friends than he does at home and 99% of the time when he does get home he immediately goes to sleep so you've started to get restlessly lonely. During all these times, Matt's been quietly watching everything unfold. It irritates the shit out of him that not only is his roommate a lazy cunt but he's also not able to treat the girl WAY out of his league so much as slightly decent. He'd do so much fucking better and he knows it. At the very least, he'd make sure you didn't have to fake those moans he can hear across the apartment anymore, he could make you feel so much better.

Little does Matt know you're having the exact same thoughts! You feel bad about it deep down but fuck he treats you like a real person and at this point that's enough to get you on your knees. Matt constantly asks if you need help around the house, he shares his snacks with you, lounges on the couch and watches shitty reality TV without complaints. He also happily lets you come hang out in his room when you're feeling extra lonely, it started off with you just sitting at his desk or on the floor doing your own thing but didn't take long to evolve into full blown cuddling and sleepovers on his side of the apartment.

your boyfriend doesn't even clock that you've been walking around the house in Matt's oversized shirts and hoodies either, but it gets Matt so hard he gets fucking dizzy. I've said before this mf is territorial as hell and any way he can mark you as his, he's doing. He knows he could do so much more but he's saving it for when the time is right.

It's been a couple weeks since this whole arrangement started and you're still at least somewhat trying to be a decent girlfriend so you bit the bullet and planned a whole big date for your anniversary with your boyfriend. You got a dinner reservation, bought tickets to visit this huge aquarium you've raved about for months and begged to visit and you even bought the pretty little white sundress you have on while pacing your living room and sending text after text to your boyfriend asking where he is and when he'll be home. Matt nearly dropped dead when he saw you in that dress though, it hugs your curves just right and your hair and makeup are done so well too. You look stunning, the only thing marring up that pretty look is the stressed expression on your face.

When you looked up at him with those big teary puppy eyes he swears he's never been so mad in his life. You're explaining the entire ordeal and Matt is just seething, you're dolled up and gorgeous, even went through the trouble of planning this whole thing because your boyfriend wouldn't and this fucker can't even answer a call or show up for it? On your anniversary? Bullshit. You whined about how you should've just planned this date for you and Matt instead and that's when he decided he didn't wanna draw this plan out any longer, he was ending it today. You're not spending another second suffering.

Matt reaches up to try and wipe your tears away without messing up your makeup cause there's no way you're gonna be crying your pretty eyeliner off around him unless it's from him fucking you to tears.

"Please stop wasting your time on this fuck up and let me treat you right, sweetheart. You know I can make you feel so much better, stop lying to yourself."

He's right, you'd be lying if you truly said you thought anyone could treat you better than Matt who's become your best friend in just a few weeks. He does everything right and your boyfriend really did just ghost you on your anniversary, you should get back at him shouldn't you?

And you do. Matt doesn't waste any fucking time throwing you onto his bed and hiking that pretty little dress up your hips. He's wanted literally nothing more than this since you moved in and he's gonna enjoy every second of it. He has your legs over his shoulders and is lapping at your cunt until you're nearly in tears again right away. You can literally feel him smiling against your pussy, he's so fucking full of himself and he's just proving himself right in this moment cause you're pulling his hair and rolling your hips against his face while you're whining and begging for him to keep going. He's never heard you be so loud or genuine, so that's all the proof he needs. He's not satisfied until you're squeezing your thighs around his head like a vice and shaking like a leaf under him while he makes you cum on his tongue.

He's nowhere near done though, and had really planned on being gentle, but he hears your boyfriend pull up and his door close and decides right there that he'd save the softness for next time. Matt damn near folds you in half and is rubbing the tip of his cock right against your overly sensitive clit just to hear you whimper.

"Want this dick? I wanna hear you beg for it, baby. Tell daddy what you need"

Oh! Ofc he's into that. Not that it bugs you, your brain is so fuzzy you don't even think twice about begging for him to fuck you and dropping his name entirely in favor of calling him daddy. He happily "gives in" to your pleading and fills you entirely in a single thrust. The sound you made was nearly inhuman, the stretch made your insides ache but fuck you genuinely don't think you could feel any better. Matt sets a bruising pace immediately and is mouthing off the whole time.

"I know baby- never had dick this good before have you, huh? Taking me so fucking well- good girl"

"Told you I could treat you better, you belong to me. Don't wanna hear another word about that fucking lame ass boyfriend of yours. You're mine."

"Daddy's dick making you dumb, baby? It's okay. You don't need to think, I'll handle it for you."

"Gonna cum again? Fuck- wanna feel you cum around my cock princess, it's okay, cum for me baby-"

You're being so loud you don't even hear your front door open but Matt sure does and that's when he slows his pace, making sure he grinds himself as deep as he can get every time he fills you up and he leans down to suck dark hickeys in as many visible places on your neck as he can. You're in full blown tears at this point and it only gets worse when he pulls your hand to your lower stomach and presses his on top so you can feel how deep he is inside you.

"Bet he never filled you this good, did he?"

"Gonna fuckin' marry you I swear- you'd look so pretty full of my kids"

You can't even tell if he's serious but you hope he is, you'd marry him rn just for how good his dick feels. He hears your phone vibrate from the nightstand and picks it up while still grinding against yours. You finally got a response from your boyfriend, all it says is "where r u" and Matt seeing it before you did is the worst thing that could've happened cause rather than telling you, he just takes it upon himself to answer. He unlocks your phone and opens your camera, you didn't even realize he was recording until he held your face in his free hand and told you to "say hi" which you couldn't do, every time he thrust into you your voice broke off into a pathetic little whimper.

Matt made sure to get a good shot of himself filling you up, and used his free hand to abuse your clit until you were nearly screaming which was exactly what he wanted. He couldn't just end the video on a random note, he really wanted to get his point across. He picked up the pace of his thrusts and his fingers never slowed down until you were convulsing under him again and squirting on his cock. *still* not quite enough, but he pulls out right as he cums to watch it drip down your pussy and then he decides that's probably enough. He sends the video to your boyfriend without a second thought and nearly collapses on top of you, pressing extra kisses to your neck and chest. His door's locked, and he can fight, he doesn't give a shit about repercussions cause he finally has what he wants.

[heartfullofleeches]

Adonis [Male Butterfly Yan] + Amab Bully Wasp Reader [18+]

(Warnings/Tags: Piss Drinking, mentions of alcohol consumption, Reader is a huge asshole. No gender mentioned, but Reader has a penis)

-

"Keep your chin up, freak-"

This was shaping up to be the best night of his life.

Adonis had never been big on parties. Didn't do well in large crowds nor did he have many friends he'd happily enjoy wasting his time with. That all changed when he fell under your radar. It was love at first sight, but as with every good thing in his life - others tried to take his happiness away. People warned him about you - spreading their lies in an attempt to squash his budding feelings. A monster. A danger to yourself and those around you. Nothing more than a big bully. He knew better. You were different, just like him.

"Heh-heh... S-sorry....."

Adonis welds himself to the hard floor beneath him - the coarse texture of your jeans rubbing against his check as you wrestle with your belt. Your free hand runs his hair, gripping his sensitive antennae where they sprout from his skull. The butterfly swallows his moans as quickly as they slip out as you tug at his scalp through your struggle. He didn't want to come off as too eager for this. He's worked too hard to reach this point just to scare you off. Tolerating your awful excuses for friends, agreeing to attend this awful party, mingling with those other awful people at the bar everytime he ran to grab you another drink. Adonis didn't mind those parts too much. He'd do anything to prove his worth to you. Maybe, you'd even like him more if he showed more enthusiasm, and willingness to let you use his throat for any means.

A boy could dream....

A soft grunt sounds from above as the buckle of your belt falls free.

"Fucking finally... Who said you could close your mouth?"

Adonis ignores you in motion of pulling your zipper with his teeth. Impatience was rare for the boy lusting after someone who normally wouldn't give him the time of day, but he's been waiting for this moment all night. He prays by batting those pretty lashes of his and giving proper worship will be enough to earn your forgiveness. You don't appear to care much either way, though the slight hitch of your breath as he traces the outline of your dick with his tongue through the fabric separating him from your bare skin doesn't go unnoticed. Adonis blushes. Saliva wets his dry lips as you fish your cock from the restrictive band of your trousers, tapping it against his lower lip as sign to open wide. Adonis obliges. The end of his prolonged tongue teases your balls as he parts his jaws as wide as possible. You ruffle his hair to which Adonis responds with a whimper.

"That's a good bitch.... Now, drink up~"

Adonis stiffles another hiccup of laughter as you take aim as his open mouth. You probably saw this as another way to humiliate him. Watching you slam beer after beer all evening, he could only dream of an outcome such as this. A quiet sigh of relief foretells your release. Warmth trickles onto his tongue as your grip on his hair tightens briefly. Once you're engaged he'll have to scold you for your drinking habits once, but for now he relishes the salty, slightly earthy taste of your piss. He savor it as it's the first he's ever had of you.

You inch the head of your cock further pass his lips, hissing as the little fucker wraps his mouth around the base of your girth. The tightness of his throat grips at you with every greedy swallow he takes of your filth, pumping your semi-hard erection to full mass. The trajectory of your stream remains on mark as Adonis works to keep your cock in his mouth and down his throat til you've completely drained. Hot tears flow from his eyes, mixing with the fluids that dribble down his chin and onto his sweater. Mascara he threw on just to gain your attention runs down his cheeks in dark streaks. The nice girls at the mall said it was the perfect touch to impress any date. His wings beat pathetically against his back as a deep breath of fresh air rids his tongue of your natural taste - strings of thick salica connecting him to you as you pull yourself from his reach.

"Whew! Been holding that in all night. Somebody must've died in the bathroom or some shit. I'll take care of this on my own - It'll be a pain if someone catches us out here with you like that. Thanks for the help, Adonis."

Adonis shutters at the usuage of his name. You never call him that, but the euphoria is fleeting. You pat him on the shoulder as you adjust your pants on your waist. It hardly gives him the dopamine boost actions did. He..wasn’t done yet... was he? No, he still hadn't proved his worth to you - not fully. From this angle, he could see just how painfully hard you were. Where you really just going to leave like that? Without giving him another taste of you after he's been so good? He wasn't ready to be alone again just yet.

"W-wait......"

Adonis grips at your thighs, olive eyes damp with fresh tears as he sniffles.

"You still haven't...I can... P-please let me finish. I'll do a good job - I swear! I'll do anything you want!"

The new tears spill from his eyes. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you sigh heavily instead. "Alright, alright. If you remain absolutely quiet on our drive back to your place then maybe I'll fuck you. Would be better to piss on you in a shower anyway. Don't expect me to be around by morning."

"O-oh... thats ok! As long as I get one night with you...."

Adonis springs to his feet, hooking both arms around your right bicep with a huge grin on his face. He looked an absolute mess with his face covered in tears, spit and other fluids - yet he smiles the same as a blushing bride. He wasn't too worried about you leaving in the morning. One benefit to trouble sleeping is the medications one might use to solve their nightly troubles - or keep others right where they belong.

[coffee-and-tea-time]

Imagine if hanahaki isn't a sickness but a serial killer

Hello! Tea here all by himself! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

I've always loved the hanahaki disease trope and how angsty and painfully beautiful it is so...

How interesting would the concept of a serial killer that calls himself "hanahaki" to smother his victims and shove flowers inside their throats after death? Much more interesting if it's their lover's favorite flowers, as his way to say "I'm giving them the flowers you'd never give them"

What if he (of course it's a man) kills unfaithful men? But one day he falls in love...

His one-sided love being the spouse of one of his victims, he fell in love with them when trying to figure out their favorite flower.

...

"What's your spouse's favorite flower?"

Hanahaki asked as always, they thought at first that it was a show of mercy, but after the first few appeared in the news those fuckers started to catch on, so it was harder to get that information. This one seemed to need more time to break down, and after more and more torture and his relentless asking, Hana realized... the motherfucker simply didn't know, this man didn't know his spouse's favorite flowers.

Hanahaki felt pity in his soul, he did this for those innocent people after all, waiting at home for their love when they're rolling in bed with someone else, disgusting. Hana couldn't control his anger and finished the unfaithful pig off before he could find out the answer, he enjoyed the moment the man's hands went limp and cold, when the blood seeped from the corner of his lips that were now a lavender hue.

That pig just didn't love his husband enough...

But now the killer was met with a slight problem. As Hana stared down at the pitiful limp pale body of that waste of a man he realized... he still didn't know the information that he needed, God damn it, he thought, this wasn't going his way and it infuriated him. The frustration seeped into his expression with a slight frown, just for it to fade in seconds. Hana would have to find out on his own, wouldn't he? What a thrilling challenge.

Just as Hana pondered on how to approach, how to slither his way into the spouse's life in order to find out their favorite flower, on an empty house you sat, waiting for your husband that just stormed off your shared apartment, drunk out of his mind looking for the booze you wouldn't hand him. Now you were drinking it yourself, a glass of white wine swirling in your hand as you stared down on the kitchen counter...

Tell me, What's your favorite flower, my dear?

[iveriee]

tom riddle x sub ! clingy ! reader

( headcanons )

— no mention of reader's gender. tom is a toxic fucking bastard. reader is desperate. emotional manipulation. kind of fluffy. sexually explicit material in the nfsw section. oral. sadism. slight crack. aftercare (?). crumbs of sub ! tom. pulled this one out of my drafts aswell. NOT PROOFREAD !! can be read as a summarisation / alternate universe of escape.

— he doesn't know whether to be annoyed or flattered, for you rarely let him get out of your sight — often clinging to him like a parasite, head buried in his chest, arms wrapped around his neck.

— at first, he finds it endearing how you pout whenever he leaves. you're like an accessory to him — a prized possession that can't live without him.

— you take his hand, oh-so-gently and kiss him every single day. you tell him everything about your day, from the tiniest fragments to entire events.

— and it's nice of you — it really is. but unfortunately it is getting tiring.

— it is getting tiring to listen to your rambles, he thinks as you go on a tangent about how you accidentally spilled ink over your benchmate and how they 'overeacted'.

— you're like a bug now.

— weak. needy. pathetic.

— and he has no time for people with such characteristics, he cannot afford to.

— so he begins to ignore you. slowly but surely he does.

— and you grow crazy.

— why is he ignoring you? what did you do even do? did you mess up?

— you try to talk to him but he doesn't pay any attention.

— fuck. fuck. fuck.

— you always mess things up. you should've never overstepped his boundaries. you should've never clung to him like a fucking parasite. you never should have.

— so you do something you never should have done. again.

— ( you'll never change, will you ? )

— you beg for forgiveness on your knees — tears streaming down your cheeks.

— and he smirks ever so slightly. a sort of sadistic delight jolts through him.

— he pats your head and tells you there's no need to act this way — and that you're being silly.

— this fucker, you think before nodding at his words.

— he fucking ignored you and now he's saying that you're being silly for complaining ?

— you decide to let it be and focus on the positive aspects: you have him back now.

— (..presumably.)

— and so it happens again — you hug him so tight that your arms begin to sore. you tell him about your day. (albeit less), you kiss his cheeks and you gawk at his intelligence and you're...happy.

— or are you?

— because beneath all that affection, you are hollow.

— he can't love you, no, — but he'll accept your affection. it strokes his ego, probably.

— and you don't mind as much as you thought you would.

* what if you try to make him jealous ? or cheat on him. ?

oh merlin. you're screwed. done for. ended. dead. because, (i) it's highly unlikely that he'll fall for your pretense and (ii) if he somehow does, he'll make sure to make that fucker's life a living hell and perhaps yours too. how dare you fucking betray him for some piece of worthless shit? how the fuck could you?

he wasted so much of his time on you. so much of his time that could've been utilised. and yet he spent it reassuring you of your worth, listening to your tangents, helping you, and being..yours. you were his, obviously, but even more surprisingly, he was, in some twisted way, yours too.

and now you cheated on him. after he took the time to be vulnerable with you, after he exposed his true colours to you, after you peeled back his cold exterior. (after he let you pepper kisses all over his face and boop his nose!)

he thought he was the cruel one. but it seems you are. and you're not just cruel, no, — you're a fucking monster. something he never thought he'd use to describe you. a word usually reserved for him, back at that stupid muggle orphanage.

* how would he react to you being thoughtful and remembering the tiniest things about him ?

he'd be flattered, really — it's his most common reaction to your shenanigans, after all. he does indeed love having his ego stroked and your dedication to him would surely do that. you remembered how he prefers using fountain quills ? how endearing. you remembered his favourite colour, his favourite subject, his boundaries, his interests—

still, it's adorable. how you take the time to memorize everything about him in that pretty little head of yours. but that's not all. let's say — you remembered his..... birthday. actually, fuck no. he hates his birthday and would probably give you a nasty glare before walking off.

there are certain things that he doesn't want you knowing, obviously and if you find out, he'll obliviate you or if he can't do that, he'd ghost you or threaten you, depending on what you know. ("love. how can you even say that I went to the girl's lavatory? you have no reason to think that. and no, i absolutely was not being a cree— what are you even on about?")

but still, I'd say his outlook would usually be positive.

* how would he react to you being jealous ?

— he would be, to say the least, amused. it would mean that you do indeed care about him. perhaps a bit too much...

— he taps his nails against his desk smugly as you pout in your classic fashion and yell at him. tom doesn't understand how you feel even a twinge of the hot, burning embarassment you are supposed to feel when acting so utterly ridiculous.

— when you finally stop ( and merlin it is after a long time when you do ) there might aswell be smoke puffing out of your nose.

— he takes your flushed cheeks and squishes them, hands digging into your flesh. when you groan out in protest, he shhs you as if you are a fucking child.

— "you're jealous." he whispers, his lips curling. and he knows he's right, by the way your eyes divert and your breathing turns ragged.

— "trust me, i am yours. why would you think that way? do you not trust me?" he then smoochs your forehead and FUCKING LEAVES !!!! the bastard leaves.

— he can't help but chuckle as he walks out. you are mortifying. ridiculous. stupid. and oh so naive. you are all of that indeed. and worse, even.

— alas, he cannot leave you. you are entertaining. overly so. ( and because he loves you but he would never admit that)

* what if you comfort him because of his past ? what if you just can't handle that the person you love had to suffer ?

he'd be... astonished. despite feigning displeasure, he would be, in somewhere deep in his heart, utterly and completely, — flattered. you. sweet you. hugging him — apologizing for something you were not even apart of. sniffling, hands softly trailing across his cheeks. you had always been affectionate, yes — but this? nobody had done this for him.

and for that, he leans into your touch; your sweet, honey-dripping kisses and words. he feels strange. a strange kind of heat creeps up his body and he doesn't know if he hates it or if he loves it. all he knows that you're the reason why the sudden warmth erupts in his stomach in the first place. you. you.

he's scared. so scared. scared that he might aswell peel back all the boundaries he's been keeping for long, held together by his sheer unwillingness to show a fleck of vulnerability. he doesn't want you thinking he's weak and even more, that...he loves you.

nfsw.

— oh shit.

— you are eager — really eager.

— and he doesn't know how to react to it.

— his drive really isn't all that high, so you have to be the one to initiate it.

— most of the time, you let him take the lead and do he wants to.

— he fucking LOVES teasing you in public places.

— he'll trail his fingers across your thighs in the midst of a class and tell you to be quiet when you whimper ever so slightly.

— and it's torturous — how he coaxes involuntary gasps out of you. how he does not give a flying fuck about your dignity.

— what can you do but sniffle and grip the table tightly, lips trembling? merlin, you want, no, need him. and there's a hot, gashing fire inside of you — all consuming, heavy and ravenous .

— he likes giving you oral too. maybe even more than he likes recieving it.

— he'd drag his tongue between your legs and you'd cry out his name and grab his hair even more tightly, all while he never breaks eye contact. you'd be the one sobbing and breathless, not him — despite him being on his knees.

— it somehow brings him satisfaction to know that you'll always be beneath him.

— he's not that great at aftercare — he doesn't know how to 'comfort' you, so he just holds you suffocatingly tight until you fall sleep.

* would he let you take control ?

not reeeeally ?? yes but also no. he'd let you be in charge occasionally, of course, but if you tried to convince him again, he'd merely chuckle and roll his eyes. ("no, love — i'm not letting you tie me up again. not after what you did. and don't try to manipulate me with those puppy eyes.")

but secretly, he would enjoy it. although he'd die rather than admit it. your eyes seem to light up whenever he says that you can take the lead and obviously.. you're quite enthusiastic and this enthusiasm translates...strangely during the act. he finds that he doesn't mind, closing his eyes and lying back for once. but it is so very mortifying to beg you for more.

[twilighttowayvision]

NSFW ALPHABET - VESSEL 💘

HI OKAY SO!!!! let it be known that i do not and cannot write to save my life but the horny parasites within me simply demanded this of me so i had to listen to them

fair warning — i am absolutely feral over this man!!! vessel in my head is GROSS and KINKY so don’t say u haven’t been warned!!! (saying that i am feral for this man is the understatement of the century actually but i just don’t have a better word!)

very nsfw thoughts under the cut 🫡

————————————————————

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

• vessel would be so fucking soft with you after sex i just know it.

• extremely cuddly, pulls you close to him, hands running over your body, stroking your hair, giving you soft little pecks all over your face.

• if you’d had a particularly intense scene he would absolutely check in with you afterwards, seeing what you liked, if there was anything you didn’t like. your favourite parts (he would absolutely tuck this knowledge away for later to drive you crazy in the future).

• would be more than willing to get you anything you needed after so you didn’t need to move a muscle. would wrap you in a soft blankie, get you water/snacks, would hold you and hum sweet tunes to lull you to sleep.

• would be absolutely BURSTING with praise for you afterward (also during and just like, always, but we aren’t talking about that right now!!). “you did so good for me, baby. i’m so proud of you.” “such a good girl for me.” “you took me so well, darling.”

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

• his favourite of his own? has to be his toned chest and stomach (we’ve all seen the way this fucker shows it off — there’s no way it’s not his fave).

• fucking loves when you run your hands all over his torso, will absolutely walk around shirtless and smirk when he catches you ogling him.

• his favourite of yours? your lips/mouth, without a doubt. no one will ever convince me ves does not have an oral fixation.

• is obsessed with kissing you, feeling how soft your lips are against his.

• loves the way your lips feel on his skin as you kiss all over his body.

• just about cums in his pants when you put his fingers in your mouth and suck on them.

• swears when you suck his cock that he’s died and gone to heaven, can’t stop staring at his cock disappearing past your lips, will burn the sight and feeling into his memory for the rest of eternity.

• has to stop himself from pouncing on you when you do something as simple as pouting at him when you don’t get your way, or giving him a particularly sweet smile.

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

• this man cannot get enough of his cum all over/in you i just fucking KNOW it.

• not a wasted drop of cum with this man!! ALWAYS in or on you in some way.

• thinks you look so fucking pretty when he paints your face with his cum, and tells you as much every single time. always wants to take pics of it that he can look at when you’re apart.

• sometimes will use his fingers to scoop up the cum he’s painted your face with, just to feed it to you to make sure it’s not being wasted (i told u he’s gross ok!!!)

• is also OBSESSED with cumming inside you, no matter which hole he’s cumming in. loves feeling his cock twitch and pulse while he’s deep in you.

• absolutely DOES have a breeding kink so his ultimate fave is definitely cumming deep in your pussy. nothing makes him feel closer to you than this.

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

• listen. two words. panty! sniffer!!!

• will pocket your soaked panties and take them on tour with him so he can still smell your pussy when he’s not with you.

• embarrassed as hell when you find out. turned on as HELL when he realises you’re just as gross as he is, intentionally leaving your panties around the house, giving him a little wink if he notices.

• just about loses his fucking mind when you mail him a pair while he’s on tour.

• also a lingerie lover!!! loves to see you dressed up all pretty for him.

• makes him absolutely FERAL!!!! apologises profusely after ripping every piece of lingerie you ever wear in front of him right off of you (but you lowkey love it and start dressing up more and more just because of the reaction you get from him).

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

• oh vessel ABSOLUTELY knows what he’s doing. expert with his fingers, expert with his tongue, expert with his cock.

• regardless of how many people he’s actually slept with, he’s done his research. knows how to do things and knows how to do them properly and safely.

• also experienced with bdsm. knows how to dom the FUCK out of you and will enjoy every second of it.

❥ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

• some ppl will say this is cliche but — missionary king!!!!!

• loves it so he can look into your eyes & make you look into his.

• means he can watch your pretty mouth and listen up close to all the noises that come out of it as you unravel.

• means he can kiss you as much as he wants!!! can and WILL kiss/lick/bite anywhere he can reach: your lips, all over your face, your neck, all over your chest.

• means he’s in a perfect spot to whisper absolute filth into your ear as you whimper beneath him.

• he loves that missionary means you can also kiss all over his neck and chest, that your whimpers and moans go straight to his ears, lowkey loves when your nails dig into his back hard enough to leave a mark.

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

• i think it depends on the scenario and the moment, but most of the time hes gonna be very serious about giving you pleasure and seeking out pleasure himself.

• takes making you cum/teasing you incredibly seriously.

• if y’all are in a more lighthearted moment, he’s absolutely not above having a little laugh or a joke with you while in the midst of it.

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

• very well maintained — trimmed short. nothing exciting! wants to make sure you don’t have a face full of bush when he fucks your face.

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

• the MOST intimate man you will ever meet.

• inside and outside of the bedroom, incredibly touchy feely. always wants to be touching you. holding your hand, a hand on your thigh, your thigh against his if you’re sat next to each other. he just wants to feel you physically close to him (you can’t convince me his love language is not physical touch i will never believe u!!!)

• absolute hopeless romantic at heart!!! will send you flowers while he’s away on tours. hand writes and mails you love letters. writes you poetry. writes you songs!!!! will do anything and everything to let you know how much he loves and appreciates you.

❥ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

• if he’s with you: why would he ever need to masturbate when he’s got three perfectly good holes right there with him?!

• only time he’ll jack off when he’s with you is to tease the fuck out of you. he’ll have you restrained and be stood right in front of you, out of your reach, making you whine and beg for his cock in your pretty mouth.

• if he’s on tour: this man is so horny, there’s no way he’s not getting off while he’s away from you. forever wishing he was deep inside you, but he’ll settle for getting off to your pics and videos.

• begs you to send him voice messages and videos of you masturbating and moaning so he can cum to the sound of you.

• absolutely sends you filthy voice messages and pics and videos in return.

• will sniff the aforementioned panties so he can smell you, look at you, hear you, while he cums thinking about you. wants all his senses to just be you, you, you.

❥ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

• KINKY MOTHERFUCKER, just try to fight me on this!!!!

• dominant as FUCK. loves the thrill of you being completely under his control. loves that you trust him enough to submit fully to him. makes him feel so close and intimate with you in a whole new way. mostly a bit of a soft dom, but if the mood strikes, he can definitely be a bit of a mean dom too (and yeah, maybe sometimes you’re a bit bratty just to bring out his mean side. you can’t help that he’s so hot when he’s like that!!)

• dirty talk KING! this motherfucker will NOT shut the fuck up in the bedroom. he doesn’t even do it on purpose, it’s just like a stream of consciousness. spilling out all his filthy thoughts and desires. can and WILL also whisper these thoughts in your ear in public just to get you all flustered.

• ownership kink. has multiple collars for you, some with his name, some with his favourite pet names for you. some with a matching leash, some just for the bedroom that look more obviously like collars, cute ones that look more like necklaces with his initials on them so that you can wear them in public and still feel and know that you’re owned. will remind you VERY regularly that “you. are. MINE.”

• along with this, vessel is also lowkey (highkey!!!) possessive as fuck. if he sees someone else getting physically close to you or flirting with you? you better be prepared for the angry “you’re fucking MINE, you belong to me” rough and nasty kind of sex. forever leaving marks anywhere and everywhere on you. hickeys, bite marks, bruises, anything to let everyone else know that you’re spoken for.

• breeding kink!!! forever wanting to fuck his cum as deep into your pussy as he can.

• oral fixation: this goes both ways. he wants your mouth everywhere on him and his mouth everywhere on you. wants his fingers in your mouth, his cock in your mouth. fucking LOVES the way your eyes glaze over as he fucks your face. could spend hours between your legs getting lost in the way you taste.

• primal!! this is a man that would chase you through the woods just to fuck you on the forest floor once he caught you. thinks it’s fucking HOT to think of himself as the predator hunting you, and you his prey — to do as he wishes with once he has you in his grasp.

• you cannot convince me this man isn’t at least a little bit of a sadist and masochist — “let me wrap the chains, addicted to the pain.” “manifest pain at the core of pleasure.” — you get the idea, yeah? i think homeboy is into some pain, both giving and receiving. nothing too crazy but i just know i’m right on this!!!!

• bondage — loves having you restrained and helpless beneath him.

• edging/orgasm denial. like i said earlier.. very possessive man w an ownership kink!!! you belong to him. you’re HIS. that includes your orgasms. he won’t let you cum without his permission, and will rarely let you cum if you’re apart while he’s on tour. will get you on the phone with him, touching yourself and bringing yourself to the edge just so he can hear the sweet noises you make, but will tell you he doesn’t want you to cum unless it’s around his cock/fingers/tongue. when you’re together? will edge you until you’re begging, pleading, crying for release. then he’ll make you cum over and over and over and overrrrr again until you’re begging, pleading, crying for him to stop (and you fucking love him for it all).

(i truly could probably continue this list as its own post for all the boys lmao)

❥ L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

• listen. this fucker is chronically horny and will happily take you anywhere and everywhere you will let him. he can barely keep his hands off you!!! he’s taken you in countless green rooms and random rooms backstage at shows, if you’re snuggled under the same blankie watching a movie with the boys, he is absolutely teasing and touching you. getting you all worked up while you try to stay quiet. just so obsessed with you he wants to be touching you all the fucking time. big fan of teasing you in public!!

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

• as previously mentioned, lingerie lover!!! seeing his love all dressed up for him like the absolute GIFT they are will instantly get him rock hard!

• i just fucking KNOW my man is a sucker for neck kisses. you kiss his neck? you better be ready to get absolutely RAVISHED by him.

• he really just loves the way you look when you’re all fucked out. the thought of that alone is enough to motivate him.

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

• he won’t let anyone else cum inside your pussy. that’s for him and him only!!!

• won’t let you not have a safeword. even if you say you won’t need it, absolutely insists on it!!! will put the brakes on absolutely everything if u don’t respond properly when he checks in mid scene.

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

• once again this man has an oral fixation so he is OBSESSED w this both ways! both giving and receiving.

• giving: man will eat you like you’re his last fucking meal. gets absolutely lost in the way you taste, the way you smell, the sounds you make.

• gets off on it so much that if you could focus for like 2 seconds you’d see him rutting and grinding until his pre-cum has leaked a wet spot onto the bed.

• would happily stay between your legs for as long as you’ll let him (and will sometimes insist on staying even longer).

• loves when you lose control of your own body and clamp your thighs together around his head.

• i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, he’s GROSS so he really just wants to try and make you squirt all over his fucking face. just once!!!

• receiving: fucking loves loves LOVESSSSSS having his cock sucked. will lose his mind over a messy blowjob.

• adores when you take your time to really worship his cock, makes him feel so fucking good and like he’s the only thing that matters in the world…

• but there’s only so long he can handle things being slow and leaving you in control of the pace of things. can and WILL end up fucking your face and throat without fail every single time.

• the noise he makes the first time his cock hits the back of your throat and you take him even further, deepthroating him? absolutely fucking SINFUL.

• ever since, he’s been obsessed with the feeling of his cock deep in your throat and loves throatfucking you until you’re a gagging, drooling mess for him.

• is absolutely the type to pull you straight back up to him after sucking his cock to give you the most violently passionate open mouthed tongue kisses.

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

• he can be either — totally dependant on the vibe/day/his mood/your mood, etc!

• if he’s mad or needs to get out a lot of pent up energy, it’ll be fast and hard and maybe he’ll be a lil mean (all consensually obviously, as w everything else i’ve mentioned in this post).

• if he’s feeling soft and lovey dovey, it’ll be slow and so so fucking passionate, but it doesn’t mean that it won’t also be a little rough sometimes.

• no matter the actual pace, he would always find a way to make it feel sensual as fuck.

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

• maybe a controversial opinion based on what i’ve seen on these nsfw alphabet tumblr posts from others but i think he fucking LOVES a quickie!

• this man is chronically horny and is fucking OBSESSED with you. if you think he’s not pulling you into a green room to make out with you and then fuck you stupid just before or after a show, you’re soooo wrong!!!

• that being said, he fucking LOVES taking his time with you, letting the rest of the world melt away until there’s nothing but your bodies tangled together.

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

• soooo down to experiment!! like i said before he is GROSS. u never know when you’re gonna unlock a new kink!!!

• will absolutely mess around and fuck you in risky places where there’s a chance you could get caught, but he lowkey loves the thrill! (and loves getting to clamp his big hand over your mouth or make you suck on his fingers to stay quiet).

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

• have you seen the way he fuckin moves around like a gremlin at rituals???? man could literally last all night!!!!

• lasts a fairly decent while each time (he’s well practiced!!), but after he cums, he will absolutely continue messing around and keeping you all hot and bothered for him until he’s ready for another round.

• multiple rounds, all night long, i said what i said!! this man cannot get enough of you ever.

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

• he definitely owns handcuffs and ropes and other things to help restrain you.

• blindfolds, gags, y’know — the fun things to heighten any experience you might have together.

• don’t think he himself owns a lot of toys unless they’re ones he’s bought specifically to use on/with you.

• but be will happily make use of any toys you might have, especially if he knows they drive you crazy.

• will MORE than happily use a vibrator to edge you over and over and over and over until you’re drooling from both ends.

❥ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

• patron saint of teasing!!!! you will never find another man that will tease you more.

• edging and orgasm denial is like the fucking teasing olympics and he is absolutely going for the gold.

• will whisper absolute filth in your ear when you’re in public.

• will touch and tease you when and where possible in public.

• just thinks you sound so fucking pretty when you beg for him.. so he wants to make you do it ALL the fucking time.

• just wants to keep you turned on, worked up, and needy for him 24/7!!!!

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

• as previously mentioned this motherfucker will not shut the fuck up EVER in the bedroom!!!!

• will absolutely NOT hold back any moans, growls, whimpers, etc.

• will especially not hold back any sounds because he fucking knows how much they turn you on to hear how good you’re making him feel.

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

• will share you but only with the boys!! they are the exception to his rules.

• he will still absolutely be possessive as fuck about you when you’re with them tho don’t get it twisted!!

• while one of the other boys is balls deep in you he’ll still be whispering about how “even though i’m letting someone else fuck you, that pussy still belongs to ME,” or how “you’re making such pretty noises for him, baby. but he doesn’t fuck you like i do, does he? nobody else fucks you like i do. that’s why you’re all MINE.”

• if he sees one of the other boys has left any marks on you? FERAL!!!! sedate this man!!!! he will mark you the fuck UP!! will leave a bigger, more impressive mark right over the one that was left by one of the other boys as if to claim you.

• highkey loves watching you with the other boys though, turns him on so much and makes him swell with pride at how well you take them and how fucking good you make them feel.

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

• we already been knew this man has a MASSIVE cock. it’s not a secret with the way he jumps around on stage in those pants!!!

• a few hidden scars.

• one or two small tattoos that are easy to keep out of sight in his stage fit.

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

• INSATIABLE!! if you haven’t already got the message, this man is almost ALWAYS horny!!!

• highest sex drive you’ve ever seen on anyone.

• will finish, be cuddling with you, and you’ll feel him getting hard again within minutes because of the way you’re pressed up against him or because he’s thinking about how good you took him or how good you looked while you were cumming around his cock, etc. etc.

❥ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

• depends on the day/mood/etc!

• will stay up with you all night if you want.

• always always ALWAYS makes sure you’re okay/taken care of before sleep ever crosses his mind.

• will happily tangle your limbs together under the covers and fall asleep with you after if you’re sleepy!

• lowkey think he would enjoy watching you fall asleep feeling safe in his arms so maybe he waits up, trailing his arm up and down your back, playing with your hair, soothing you to sleep, just so he can stare at your pretty peaceful sleeping face for a little before dozing off himself.

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once again i cannot and do not ever write but the brainrot has become too much and i simply had to get this out!!!! i’m only even posting it so like 2 specific people can read it lol SORRY I MADE VESSEL GROSS BUT ALSO !!!! tell me i’m wrong (u can’t i won’t believe u!)