#wend*go

[spideriot]

the summoning becoming a vocal stim of mine is so funny what if one day while im singing to myself in my kitchen and fuckass wiggly just appears.. than what do i do? sorry bro i dont need your powers, your summoning song is just rlly catchy???

[toonbly]

i have to listen to music whenever i get my t-shots bc im Deathly afraid of needles, so i just had the very surreal experience of listening to the lords in black beginning to maniacally laugh and chant at the EXACT moment my girlfriend stuck me with a needle. its what wiggly wouldve wanted

[shootinwebs]

i love how charlie overshares to alastor. like she doesn't see him as just a terrifying demonic forest cryptid but a friend as well

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[danielnelsen]

sometimes it really does feel like awakening walked so inquisition could crawl

[bitchapalooza]

Oh to not be in a world consumed by modern misinformation and wrongful and/or offensive usage of Native folklore and culture…

[ratgingi]

oh my god talking abt oc medias made me remember the murderer oc dating sim i wanted to make

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

i have not worn makeup since i got this cat, which was my first mistake. trying to remember the only look i know how to do, which is a brown smokey eye with perhaps just a touch too much gold in the inner corner highlight, gold liner to about the middle of the pupil, normal black liner from the middle of the pupil back and along the lower lash line. nothing fancy! nothing too dramatic! the gold and my eyelashes distract from the indifferently applied amokey eye bc i have never really learned how to adjust for a left eye with more of a hood than the right!

anyway this fuckin cat. hopped up on the bathroom counter, tail went bristle brush, thought about hissing, didn’t, but got spooked anyway and leapt off in such a way that all my makeup brushes somehow landed IN her litter box. under the sink. this is no huge loss bc they were elf from six years ago but like!!! bro!!! come on!!!!

[kirkwallsquad]

nooo i fucked up the awakening quest order im gonna have to replayyyyyyy

[the-supernatural-rewatch-project]

s1e2 "Wend*go"

supernaturals second episode, and its first (and certainly not last) to feature a monster of the week taken and bastardized from indigenous mythologies or folklore... why am i rewatching this again? let the records show that i am white, and all the indigenous voices who i have heard / read have lead me to make the decision to censor the name w*. okay with the housekeeping out of the way, what's sloppy sam and daddy issues dean upto this week.

aw man the recap made me angry again that jess died. i miss her. all three minutes of screentime she had.

oh boy i wonder whats gonna happen to these poor campers

brooo they got the ds local play!!!! takes me back

how do they still have battery in thier cells/ds's on day SIX OF CAMPING???

cory monteith :')

and they are dead

okay so how long has it been since the events of the last episode? the existence of the monster of the week as an episodic style implies a quick succession between episodes, but the fully completed gravestone for jess implies that it has been a quick minute since she dies (also apparently she dies november 5th 2005, i didn't know the exact date was know so thats interesting!)

like gravestones take a hot minute, especially the fancy kind with the pictures.

BUT there still isn't grass over her grave,and cemetery gardeners are QUICK with the sod after someone is buried... so like... did jessica already have a grave with her name and birthdate engraved, and it just needed date of death and the picture??? (not unheard of but unlikely for someone her age)

wait, im dumb as fuck. she died on the cealing of a suspicious house fire, she has been in a coroner or medical examiners office for a while, she was just buried but its been a bit since she died leaving time for the engraving.

^^^ this nerd almost became a funeral director.

oh yeah, i like the nod to carrie.

WAIT IT WAS A DREAM. it means nOTHING. and even if it was a dream it was written by someone who wouldn't think about the amount of time to engrave a toombstone

of okay so its been atleast a week since jess's death.

oh yeah, its john who is sending them to blackwater ridge, i forgot about his whole sending them on hunting trips shit he did at the beginning.

"i think i know how you feel" the first and last time dean shows emotion and it feels genuine.

forgot how 'old' the tech feels, and how magical it was.

magical laptop nand its magical ability to solve any problem dads journal cant solve.

the way they describe the w* is quite nice, you cant see it its too fast, it unlocked the door. it really brings out the unsettledness of a monster you cant see.

does dean really think ''corporal' is too fancy??? like girl

oh god i forgot the creepy cave.

aaaaaand cory is dead :(

okay, nvm deam had two (2) genuinely tender moments in the episode.

"not even crickets"

oh god i forgot about it using the voices to lure them.

this is one of the episodes that i cam remember a lot of, but god its still creepy.

okay it taking the packs was smart

oh boy dads journal, i wonder what magical answer it will have this time

"no body likes a skeptic roy", just fuck him dean!! its not gay if you are camping!!! everyone knows that.

"saving people hunting things, the family business" god i hate that line. there was once a time where i genuinely wanted that tattooed on me. thank fuck you cant get a tattoo at 14.

its really interesting how they are coping differently with johns disappearance, dean see's it as him giving them a job, whereas sam sees it as him being in trouble.

once again, i can see why wincest was the big ship, not for me... but i can see why.

OH NO ROY IS GONNA DIE!!!!, anyways

vey well timed body dropping from a tree

also does kripke have like a thing for brod dripping on poeple because uhhh... two episodes in and we are at three instances of blood dripping on people.

if the saddle club has taught me ANYTHING its that you defo shouldn't go down an abandoned mineshaft

its too dark i cant see

magic flareguns, why were they in the cave??? just to solve a problem the writes wrote themselves into???? yup!

deans first thought of how to lure it out was to start yell flirting. okay gayboy.

it just looks like... a gargoyle?? i feel like they could have done "human turned into a monster better" then just, paint them grey and give it strange ears. to be fair i have a very high standard of what a good 'human turned into a monster' should be because the s2 of the x files finale where mulder and scully are in the train car with the 'alien's' that are actually humans, deduced from their smallpox inoculation scars is peak television. PEAK TELEVISION!!!

also, i am now requited to start a tally of how many rewatches i can bring up the x files in.

the actress who plays Haley (Gina Holden) looks so familler to me, but i looked at her imdb and noting is ringing a bell

sam drives the impala.

okay, well that was an episode. asides from the butchering of the wend*go story/mythology to fit the show. it wasn't a bad episode. its pretty hard to fuck up a monster of the week episode. again, i didn't like the prosthetics that they used for the wend*go. but asides from that... its fine. its okay. its a solid episode. it's not the best, and its not the worst. sam and dean have a nice heart to heart. yeah. very mid episode.

[its-ticsticstics]

The Wend*go is Not Your Cryptid

I'm Algonquin/Ojibwe and this is a spirit that comes from our teachings.

As a young child, the elders taught me to never even SPEAK its name, to not even sing its songs. When we sang a song about it during drumming group one year, we all got in trouble.

You do not spell the word or speak the word.

It's NOT a "cryptid" or a "spooky story" for white people to appropriate.

Its bearly spoken about in our own communities, and even then, only very carefully.

Again, not because its "creepy" but because its respected and something in our traditions that is not played around with; so its certainly not for non-ojibwe/algonquin people to speak about whatsoever. Period.

[deermouth]

Let Me Speak First Of Revelations And Next Of Dark Deceit Then I'll Speak Of Champions Of Lovers, Gods, And Beasts My Song Is Long And Twisted It Worms, It Winds, It Wends It Carries Few, It Drowns Many And Those I Love, It Rends My Song Has Taken Hold Of Me It Grips My Tongue, My Throat My Voice Cries Truths I Never Knew And To Fight Is Just To Choke So Let Me Dwell Eternal And In Ruined Flesh Ascend For My Song Has No Beginning... And The Current Flows On Without End If I Could Trace With Bloodless Fingers If My Hands Could Shape The Flow I'd Bear This Song To The Precipice And Rend Us Both To Dust Below We'd Both Go Plunging Downwards One Final Fall From Grace I'd Howl, I'd Scream In Victory And We'd Be Gone Without A Trace But We'll Never Be Rid Of Each Other My Song, My Sorrow and I So I'll Bear It Trembling Onwards To Drift On, To Dream, To Die And Where My Final Footsteps Fall Something Dreadful Shall Arise Its Gaze Shall Fall O'er Trembling Plains Its Wrath Shall Scald The Sun And Where Its Howling Forebears Walked Some Day There Shall Be None The Wise Man Knows The Taste Of Rot All Lovers Part As Dust And Even The Kings In Their Bowers Of Steel Shall Wither In Ruin And Rust This Rotten World Shall Wheeze Its Last This Hateful Hymn Shall Cease But As My Last Breath Splits My Throat I'll Wheeze Through Splintered Teeth One Last Song Of Revelations Of Prophets' Dark Deceptions Of Love, And Gods' Defeat Of Love, And Gods' Defeat

The Silt Verses (2021-2024), chapter titles

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） BILLIARD LESSON.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀ he is willing to do anything as long as you ask.

( 엔하이픈 성훈 ) ୨୧ f .. r 700 fluff established relationship ── kissing skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

jiah says ⠀⦂ ⠀a quick something i wrote because i am very happy today ><

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

“you look like you need some help.”

you can’t contain the smile spreading on your lips as you eyes wend to the man’s face. his belt wrapped around his tiny waist and his jeans that go well with it, his shirt and his leather jacket, and that smirk plastered on his angelic face.

he states as if he just realized it. as if he wasn��t the one who dragged you to that game despite your protests and affirmations that you weren’t good at it. you knew from the moment he started to play that he knew exactly what he was doing.

still, you play the game.

you plant the bottom of the billiard cue on the floor, holding it with your two hands like they do in the movies, “show me?”

in lieu of a proper answer to your offer, sunghoon leans his billiard cue on the tabe and makes the said furniture hold it before he begins to walk your way.

your eyes follow as he walks around the table to finally be close to you.

the sight of him taking his jacket off and yanking it on the first chair in his way sends shivers down your spine. but, the sensation is nothing compared to the warmth that fills your whole being when he rolls up his sleeves, showing off his strong hands and forearms.

your heart starts to beat in your chest when he slides behind you. pressed against and close to you, the weight of his body is almost felt on yours. fingers curling around the billiard cue tighter, you mentally beg your knees to give up.

leaning in, mouth next to your ear, he finally answers, “all you had to do was ask.”

then your mind goes completely blank. the echoes of his words only resonating in your empty-like head. his hot breath against your skin and the weight of his deep on your stomach— the tons of butterflies it made hatch out of their cocoon.

all you had to do was ask.

the electric shock of his hands finding your hips makes you grasp a bit of reality.

he pulls you closer to him before making you both walk closer to the game’s table. one of his hands finds your shoulder before sliding down your arm and wrapping itself around your wrist, putting your hand on the green tissue.

he leans forward, resting his entire upper body on your back and making you bend over the table in full ninety nine degrees. his iris meeting your orbs as he does so. his palm on the back of your hand. his chin next to your shoulder and his breathing sinking down to your core. the thumb of his free hand rubs against the spot it is positioned on.

all you had to do was ask.

you wonder, if you asked, would he kiss your shoulder. you imagine him ditching the game and holding your waist as he slowly approaches his lips to your neck. you can imagine him kissing your cheek, each kiss getting wetter and lingering more as he approached from your mouth. you can imagine him turning you around easily and finally—

the sound of a ball being hit by another one and falling in a hole drags you out of your daydreaming.

sunghoon’s turns his head to you with a proud smile that you can only try to return with confused look, was it you who did that?

the man’s weight on you is already missed when he goes back to a normal position. you face him, head tilted up in the slightest because of the proximity. he looks down on you and is so pretty.

and because all you have to do is ask, you do: “kiss me,” although it comes out more like an order than a question, he supplies without thinking. like always.

he kisses you breathless. with his hand on the back of your head and the other on the table, steadying the both of you. he kisses you as he leans back up, so you are on your tiptoes and tries to sit on the table.

he kisses you like he knows you have been fighting the urge to do so. he kisses you hot and tender and loving. he kisses you the way you like. he kisses you the way you want to be kissed because all you have is to ask and he will do anything.

and when the kiss is broken, when you are both gasping for air and slowly getting your senses back; you can tell he was waiting for that.

���ㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[english-history-trip]

Dan Meth is definitely the pen name you'd come up with on meth.

One of my favorite hobbies is thinking about the fucked up implications of this fantasy world map my parents got me for christmas

[Image ID: photo of a map. On the left side of the map is Middle Earth, with the Shire and Mordor labeled. To the direct right of Mordor is Whoville.]

[paxtito]

valentine

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 2.55k

warnings: smut 18+, mentions of dissecting animals, strap-on referred to as cock (w receiving)

summary: enid convinces you to get wednesday a valentine’s gift so you think of something morbid, reader is a shape-shifter and a huge arachnophobe

a/n: this is my first time writing a fanfic let alone smut so do keep that in mind ;)

MASTERLIST

⋆ ♰.˚🦇🕸️ˎˊ˗

The rain creates a relaxing sound against the greenhouse’s glass as Miss Thornhill teaches. It’s so relaxing that you’re one blink away from the spectacular thing that is sleep. Your eyes feel heavy and slowly roll back every so often, it’s taking all your willpower not to fall asleep. Most of the other students are listening, and some messing about. Enid’s giggling can be heard which causes Miss Thornhill to send her a knowing glare with a raised brow. Enid, who is sitting a row down from you, quickly becomes quiet, her face turning red, almost like a beetroot.

You then avert your gaze to the girl sitting next to you, Wednesday. You can’t help but wonder how she has such good posture… with how straight she’s sitting, there’s no way on Earth her back doesn’t hurt. But, there’s no denying that you feel like you’ve got a back of an 80-year-old.

09:38

That’s what the clock reads. You groan internally, still another 22 minutes left of the lesson. At least you don’t have to write and give your poor hand a workout… right?

After spending the majority of the lesson talking about the plant that’s situated (in seed form) on every desk, Miss Thornhill finally instructs the class to plant it in their designated plant pot.

Wednesday takes the watering can before looking over at you with a deadpan expression.

You frown, too tired to even understand what she’s signalling. You stare at her blankly before speaking. “Wha-“

“-The seed.” She points out the obvious, her once deadpan expression turning into a slight glare at your laziness.

You take the seed out of the packet, placing it into the dirt but you jump, quickly pulling your hand away. “Fuck me! There’s a spider!” You push yourself away from the desk. If it wasn’t obvious by now; you’ve got arachnophobia.

Miss Thornhill’s eyes widen at the sudden commotion. She averts her gaze to you and Wednesday. You’re sat quite a distance away from your desk whereas Wednesday just rolls her eyes, returning to the task.

“Y/N, please. Be more mindful of your language.” Miss Thornhill affirmed, causing a few students to turn their heads. Her tone is stern but soft at the same time, giving her that nurturing presence.

“I’m sorry, miss- but I almost just died.” You protested an expression of disbelief painted on your face. Still shaken by the whole thing. It’s hairy legs… ugh. You close your eyes with a frown, shivering as you recall what you’d just witnessed. Your response elicits a few muffled chuckles from your classmates.

Miss Thornhill just sighs in response, crossing her arms and looking at you with a sympathetic expression. “If I hear any more of that language coming out of your mouth; you’ll get detention.” You let out a small sigh at her words, slumping down into your chair out of defeat.

Wednesday glances at you from the corner of her eye, an amused yet displeased look. “Remind me, why do I entertain you with my company?” She mutters, not at all amused by your little show with the spider.

You let out a small huff at her words, crossing your arms and moving closer to the table. “Where did it go?” You ask, warily looking over at the plant pot.

“I threw it across the classroom,” Wednesday replied nonchalantly. Placing the watering can back down once she’d finished.

Your eyebrows raise, looking over at her with a heartfelt pout. “Aww, thank you, Wends!” You jokingly put a hand over your heart, showcasing your ‘appreciation’ of such affection.

“I didn’t do it for you. It was merely a distraction to me. Don’t flatter yourself.” She responds, looking over at you with a glare. Her back is still as straight as ever and her arms are crossed. Deep down both you and her know she did it for you.

The bell soon rings, signalling the end of the lesson. You stand up, tucking in your chair before picking up your bag. Wednesday’s already gone, it’s as if she just vanishes into thin air the moment the bell rings. Not once have you seen her leave the classroom.

Enid quickly catches up to you, both her hands resting on her backpack’s straps. She smiles brightly, it’s sickening how happy she always is.

“So… Have you got Wednesday anything for good ole Valentine’s Day? You do know that’s tomorrow?” She proclaimed, her eyes wide with anticipation as she strides beside you in the hallway.

You let out a small sigh, rolling your eyes. “You know how she feels about that day. She ‘doesn’t see the point in such a frivolous and commercialised holiday.’” You mimic, making a bad impression of her.

Enid pouts, looking at you with puppy eyes. It’s irritating how nosy and obsessed she is with you and Wednesday’s relationship. It’s as though she doesn’t know what privacy is or what boundaries are.

“Come ooonnn, Y/N! Get her something!” She presses, it’s obvious you’re not going to win this. You clench your jaw, looking over at her before sighing. You hesitate before nodding. Enid swirls in response, jumping up and down ever so slightly which elicits a few glares from the other students in the hallway. She ends up bumping into a student, she’s too distracted apologising so you take this as a chance to slip away.

⋆ ♰.˚🦇🕸️ˎˊ˗

21:53

That’s what your phone read. Throughout the day you’d been thinking about the perfect gift for Wednesday. You’re lying on your back in bed. Yoko, your roommate, is down in the shower block, you’re alone. Your eyebrows suddenly raise, eyes widening.

Dissecting!! Dissection..? whatever.

You should catch an animal that she can… cut open? Whatever it is she does. You smile to yourself, fist-bumping the air at your spectacular idea. You take out your phone, searching up ‘popular dissecting animals.’

• frogs

• fetal pigs

• cats

You frown at the results… Not gonna kill a poor cat, where in the hell would you even get a frog and fetal pig?? You scroll down more, your eyes land on the perfect animal: a rat.

They’re everywhere, you’re also pretty sure that the school’s waste area is full of them. Easy target. You prepare for your rendezvous. Finding a carrier bag to put the rat in.

Shape-shifting into a bird of prey was your best bet at catching a rat. Especially with the limited time you had. You hate shape-shifting, your body always felt all yucky and tingly afterwards. But, as cheesy as it sounds; she’s worth it.

As soon as you sneak out of the building, the cool air hits you. It’s a clear sky, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The moonlight creates a relaxing and dark atmosphere. You walk to where the bins are. The autumn leaves crunch under your feet with each step. You place the carrier bag on the floor, making sure you’ll be able to put the rat in once you’re a bird.

You shapeshift into a hawk, perching yourself on a roof that gives you a perfect spot to spy on the area. Using the exceptional eyesight of the bird, you spot a rat. You keep your eyes locked on it, waiting for the perfect moment.

Spotting the perfect moment, you swoop down, you extend the bird’s leg, capturing the rat with your claws. You fly over to where the bag is situated, dropping the rat into it. You shape shift back into your human form, looking at the live rat. Wednesday would probably prefer it to be alive- at least that’s what you think.

⋆ ♰.˚🦇🕸️ˎˊ˗

05:00

Your alarm went off painfully early. Wednesday was always up early in the cafeteria. You saw this as a chance to give her the ‘gift.’ It may not be conventional but she’ll like it… right? In her own way.

You soon get dressed, dragging yourself out of your dorm and to the cafeteria. The plastic carrier bag in your left-hand carries the rat. It’s not moving, might be asleep or might be dead. You don’t know.

Wednesday is already there, she’s the only person besides the dinner crew there. She’s got a bowl of the odd porridge she eats every morning. You know better than to ask what’s in that. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had some bugs in there for ‘protein.’

“Hiya, Wends… Wed-nes.” You smirk, sliding yourself onto the chair opposite her. You know she hates nicknames but it’s not your fault she’s extremely fun to tease.

“Y/N.” She responds dryly, her eyes focused on her porridge. She’s happy to see you, though she’ll never admit it or show it, she is. She moves her eyes onto your face, a curious glint in them.

“You’re not usually up this early.” She states, acknowledging the fact that you’re not a morning person. It’s pretty obvious, you still look half asleep.

“I got you something for Valentine’s Day. Just hear me out before you say anything.” You plead, bringing the bag up and placing it on the table. Definitely unhygienic.

Wednesday opens her mouth to protests but decides against it. She sighs and lets go of her spoon, leaning over and looking in the bag. Her eyebrows raise ever so slightly. Not at all expect the Valentine’s gift to be an animal.

“It’s for the dissecting stuff. I don’t know what it’s called.” You shrug, adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the stool.

“A rat.” She hums, moving her gaze from the sleeping rat and onto you. Her face portrays the fact that she seems to be impressed.

“I don’t like such a commercialised and pointless day… But, I must say, I’m not exactly opposed to such a gift.” Her dark eyes analyse the animal in front of her. She nodded one last time before averting her eyes to your face.

You smile at her reaction. Glad that she reacted well. Wednesday on the other hand stares at you, she’s very much happy with such a thoughtful gift, but she’d never admit that- not while she’s alive anyway.

She looks around the cafeteria, making sure there are no prying eyes. She turns back to you and grabs you by your tie, pulling you into a soft kiss. The kiss conveys an unspoken ‘thank you’ from her. After a few seconds, she pulls away, going back to her breakfast.

⋆ ♰.˚🦇🕸️ˎˊ˗

Wednesday had been experimenting on the rat specimen all evening in Eugene’s shed. Holding a scalpel, she observes the rat’s organs, pulling the skin back with her gloved hands to see different angles.

By the time you’d arrived, she was finished. The shed was nice and clean, the rat nowhere to be seen and her equipment back in her satchel. Wednesday, still in the school uniform, pats her blazer down, making sure she looks presentable before turning to greet you.

“Hello.” She greets, her voice soft. She leans back against the desk that’s in the shed, her arms folded against her chest.

“I was entertained by the rat you had given me.” She says, her eyes fixated on yours before she continues hesitantly. “…Thank you.” She whispers, moving her gaze away due to the vulnerability she’s feeling.

You smile, just nodding in response. You understand she’s feeling a bit uncomfortable with how open and vulnerable she’s feeling, you don’t want to escalate those feelings. You move closer, eat step sending a surge of electricity throughout you. Your hand moves forward, gently taking her own. Leaning down, you brush your lips against hers allowing Wednesday to close the distance, which, she takes. Wednesday leans forward, capturing your lips into a dance with her own.

After a few moments, Wednesday pulls away, a small smirk on her face. She turns around and reaches for her black satchel. Her manicured nails brushed against the leather. She unzips the back and pulls out a harness- sorry… strap-on?

“How’d that even fit-“ She quickly cuts you off, lifting her cold finger to your lips, silencing you. A small amused smirk plays on her lips.

“The Addams family holds many secrets…” She purrs, her nails gently scratching your cheek, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Very relaxing. With skilled hands, she secures the strap-on around your waist, even through your clothes you can feel the cold leather. Her fingers linger, tracing the outline. You shiver at her touch, captivated by the intensity of her gaze.

“I might open up to this nauseating holiday after this…” Without wanting, she shoves you back roughly, causing you to stumble onto the floor. She straddles your body, the strap-on pressing up against her stomach. Her pale hands reach under her skirt, pulling her black lacy panties to the side.

“Inside. Now.” She says, her tone leaving no room for argument. You quickly nod, your hand wrapping around the cock and blindly positioning it at her glistening entrance under her skirt.

Once she feels the tip run against her, she lowers herself down. Impaling herself with the cock. A small sigh escapes her lips, eyes closed as she starts to move. Her hands on your shoulders for support.

“Guide me.” She coaxed, looking down into your eyes. Her face is flushed, hair slightly dishevelled. It’s a sight a single soul would never expect to see or happen. You obliged to her request- or demand, your hands move to her hips, helping her move. Her hips buck involuntarily now and then.

Over the next few minutes, her movements evoke small whimpers every so often and small sighs of pleasure. Her noises started to escape her cold lips more often, signalling she was getting closer and closer to the edge. Her forehead rests against yours as she continues to ride you, her moans and the sound of the cock entering her is all that can be heard. She kisses your cheek, letting out another small whimper as your fingers move to her sensitive bud under her skirt. Your thumb rubs tight circles against the swollen bundle of nerves, her hips grinding down on both your thumb and the cock.

“Oh- Th… That’s it, good… pet.” She whispers breathlessly, her tone betraying how needy she is for a release. Her nails dig even tighter into your shoulders, even through your blazer you swear she’s broken your skin. Wednesday’s teeth are gritted as her movements become more forceful.

“Bite my neck… Now.” Her hands bury in your hair, using it as leverage to push you into her neck. You open your mouth, your teeth coming into contact with her neck, biting down. She throws her head back, both out of pleasure and wanting to give you more access. The metallic taste fills your mouth, hearing her noises and the taste elicits a moan from you.

“Y/N…” She moans in a growl-like manner as she climaxes, her juices coating the silicone cock. You take your hand away as you move away from her. She collapses against you, breathless as she recovers from her climax. Her hips bucking and legs still shaking around you. She pulls back and looks at you with that same smirk as she did earlier. She presses her hands against your chest, pushing you so your back is fully pressed against the floor.

“Now… Be good, pet, and lick me clean.”

⋆ ♰.˚🦇🕸️ˎˊ˗

[comatosebunny09]

first class | sylus

summary: sylus likes to play dangerous games. today, you happen to be his rook piece. warning(s): female anatomy described, explicit language, dirty talk, bodily fluids, exhibitionism, reader's attire is described, profanity, blue balls of the female persuasion, praise kink now playing: devil's advocate - the neighbourhood notes: something i threw in @muvaginger's inbox. i'm sorry for my mind. thank you for reading, lovebugs.

Sylus, but calling you when you’ve just gotten off work.

“Are you home?” he asks, all husky on the other end. He knows you aren’t if the telltale shadow cast by a crow circling overhead is anything to go by.

“Not yet.”

“Well, get there.” Amusement resides in his voice. You have half a mind to tell him off for bossing you around like that. Like you don’t secretly enjoy it.

“Yeah, yeah. On my way.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your pocket. Put your helmet on, throwing your leg over your bike’s seat and settling on the cushion. Start it, the engine purring to life beneath you. After waving goodbye to Tara, you peel off, zipping through the energetic streets of Linkon towards your home.

Inside the lobby, your phone buzzes again. You roll your eyes, shoving your earpiece into your ear as you trudge through the lobby.

“What!” you grate out.

“Moving a little too slow there, kitten.”

If only you could punch him through the phone. You tamp down your anger, switching tactics. “What’s this about, anyway?”

He chuckles low and throaty, the sound of it prickling your brain. “Patience is a virtue.”

You scoff. “You’re one to talk.” Asshole, you add inwardly.

You catch the elevator to the floor where your apartment resides. Slide your key in, easing through the door into your entryway. Barely have time to set your keys down before a sharp rapping snaps your attention to the door.

“Open it,” Sylus orders.

Hesitant, you pivot towards it. Fingers twitch near your hip where your gun’s holstered. Slowly, you reach for the handle, mindful of your steps.

A soft laugh rings in your ear.

“Easy, sweetheart. It’s not an ambush. If I wanted to off you, I would’ve done so by now.”

“I never know with you,” you clip back, turning the doorknob.

After mentally counting to three, you throw the door open and peek outside. Silence and an empty hallway greet you. You glance left and right. Up and down the hall until a large, crimson box catches in your peripheral, seated on your doormat. You fetch it, admiring the black ribbon intricately wrapped around it.

“What’s this?” you query, kicking your door shut once you’re back inside.

“A gift.”

“Another one?”

His tone swims with nonchalance. “What can I say? I enjoy spoiling you rotten.”

You test the weight of the box. Shake it, hearing tissue paper and something heavy stir inside.

“Open it.”

You oblige. Tear the ribbon and top off, eyes curiously raking over the box’s contents. Inside is a long, black trench coat. Beneath that rests a long-sleeved, silk blouse. Deeper still lies a simple miniskirt, and you test its material between your fingers. It all looks and feels incredibly expensive despite its simplicity.

“Put it on,” Sylus instructs through the stillness.  

“What? Why?”

“Because you have a train to catch in—” A brief pause. “One hour.”

“What the fuck? A train? An hour? Sylus—”

“Time is ticking, sweetie.”

The phone clicks with his exit.

You throw the clothes onto your couch, scrutinizing them over folded arms, chewing your lip. It’s 50 degrees out. Where the hell does he think you’re going dressed like this? Does he plan to use you as bait or something?

Your phone buzzes again on your coffee table. You fetch it to see a QR code for a train ticket sitting in your inbox.

“Shit,” you hiss, scrambling for your bathroom to shower. He’s serious. There really is no time to spare.

He’d better have a good reason for being so cryptic.

—

“The second to last car,” he husks in your ear. “Meet me there in five.”

Your lips contort into a scowl. You rip your earpiece out, wending through the train’s other passengers to pursue your goal.

In the corners of your vision, the scenery outside the windows eases by. Greenery nestled beneath the snow, somewhere remote. It’s beautiful. You take time to admire the sights before finding your way to the second to last car.

The door slides shut behind you. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rumble of the train upon the tracks. The passengers here are sparse. It’s a luxury cabin, decked with armchairs, faux plants, and an expensive carpet.

You survey the area, spotting an unmistakable thatch of white nestled in the rear seat. Try to mask your giddiness as you make your way towards the back. It’s been a few days since you’ve last seen him.

Wordlessly, he motions to the seat across from him when you venture to his side, wearing that customary smirk. You plop down, folding your arms. Bite back a smile of your own, favoring a frown.

“What’s this all about?”

Sylus leans back in an easy slouch, and the way he manspreads makes your mouth water. He peers down at you from his nose, draping a long arm over the headrest of his seat. His turtleneck and coat do little to disguise the power of his body. The tendons in his neck dance. Jaw flexes. He motions to your lap with a flick of his gaze.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps.

Your eyes grow comically wide. “Excuse me?!” you hiss, mindful of your volume. Look around to ensure no one’s the wiser to your conversation. No hello. No I’ve missed you. No preamble whatsoever.

His smug look doesn’t waver. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.” There’s an underlying edge to his voice. One that doesn’t leave room for argument. Still, you contest him.

“Sylus, there are people here!”

That enraged whisper thing you do—it’s endearing.

Sylus’ eyes darken with something sinister. He hasn’t stopped watching you since the moment you sat down. Hasn’t stopped raking his eyes over your honeysuckle thighs, your hips.

“They can watch,” he drawls with an innocent shrug.

“Sylus!”

“Sweetie, I’m not asking.” Though he bears an expression of amusement, you can tell he means business. Consequences typically follow when you don’t heed him. Delicious consequences.

You swallow thickly. Sylus’ silhouette blurs as you survey the car over his shoulder. There are at least three other passengers here, all seated near the door you came through. More than enough distance between you. Your lover bleeds back into focus, his brow raised in challenge.

With a weighted sigh, you shift to make yourself more comfortable. Loosen the tie of your coat, drawing it open whilst easing your hips forward. Hesitantly spread your legs, feeling Sylus’ optics tuned to your every move. Something hot and sticky has already begun to gather in your panties, and your nipples tighten beneath the frail silk of your blouse.  

He cutely cocks his head to the side when you hesitate. Eyes narrow. “What’s wrong, sweetie,” he croons all low. You feel it coiling in your stomach. “Scared?”

You cut your eyes to him, mouth drawn into a tight line. Of course you are. You’ve never done anything like this. He’s introduced you to all kinds of things. Uncovered fantasies lurking deep in your mind. Discovered all the erogenous zones on your body you never knew you housed, but—

Exhibitionism is new. Dangerous. And somehow, the thought of it makes you wetter.

“Go on,” he soothes. Encourages, irises dipping into a mysterious shade of garnet.

Your body moves of its own volition, spellbound. Thighs part a little more, hands smoothing over plump flesh. You sigh out, leaning back as you drag your nails over the inner curve of your thighs, bunching your skirt up towards your hips. A little more enthusiastic now, teasing your swollen outer labia with the knuckles of your thumbs.

Sylus’ mouth parts slightly. His gaze flickers downward, entranced by the show and the soft hitch of your breath. He looks back into your eyes, clicking his tongue in discovery. Reaches out a sizable hand, leaning towards you with his elbows digging into the pockets of his knees.

“Panties. Take them off.”

Your tummy sparkles with heat. He quirks a brow. He’s serious. It’s not enough to touch yourself like this in public. He wants you bare and exposed, staining the armchair with your heat.

Without a word, you shimmy out of your underwear. Thin and frill as they slide down your calves, over your ankles to pool at your feet. You compliantly deposit them into his hand. A bitten-off growl brews in his chest. He falls back against his seat, stuffing your panties into his coat’s inner pocket for safekeeping. Signals for you to keep going, fully invested in this game.

You repeat the process from before. And it’s a new sensation now, the crisp air of the train car kissing your sticky pussy. You try to think of other things. Try to distract yourself from the smolder of his gaze and how it makes your body hum and your mind fill with smoke.

You think about his fingers instead of yours, stroking down the slit of your pussy. His fingers rubbing at the hood of your clitoris, drawing it back to stroke your pretty, swollen clit. His thumbs sliding over your nipples, causing your back to arch, his tongue laving at the space behind your ear…

Your hips stutter. You stifle a moan. Sylus slides in and out of focus, your vision fogging around the corners. He chuckles amorously, shifting in his seat. “Don’t stop,” he nurtures, eyes burning like a feverish flame. His dick sits heavy in his slacks, slowly hardening and twitching.

You salivate. Knowing that he’s enjoying this as much as you gradually are—fuck. You bite your lip, propping your leg on the chair’s arm. Spread nice and wide for him, your pussy on full display.

You rut against your fingers, your face screwed up in rapture. Legs quiver each time the pads of your fingers bump your messy clit. You construct a rhythm that’s maddeningly slow and torturous. Feel that sparkling rush lazily pooling between your thighs, but it’s not enough. Wanna be filled and stuffed to the brim with cum.

His cum.

A glimpse at Sylus reveals something that makes you throb. He’s touching himself. Humping into the palm of his hand, hot and weighted through the thick layers of his clothes. Fuck. You pulse.

“Syl,” you sob quietly, wetly, wantonly. “Syl, please—”

“Use your fingers,” he breathes all ragged. “Inside.” Angles his head back until it thumps against the headrest. Doesn’t look away, still rucking his hips up into the heel of his palm like the slow undulation of a wave.

You indulge, circling the pucker of your pussy with your fingers. Steadily work one inside, and you sigh, tossing your head back. Caress your tits with your free hand, plucking your nipples to their peaks as you drive your finger in and out. The lewd, squelching sounds you make as you torture yourself causes your walls to clench down.

Sylus’ voice crackles, pouring through the fizzy haze that’s settled over you.

“One more. You can take one more, can’t you, sweetie?”

You moan at how his voice oozes like warm milk and honey. You’re obedient, gradually adding another, pumping in and out. A thick ring of cream collects around your knuckles. It’s still not enough. Never enough.

“That’s my girl,” he lauds, relief in his timbre. “So good for me. So, so good.”

“Sylus,” you sob, fucking yourself a little faster. Wish it were him instead, filling you up and pumping you with the briny edge of his cum. There’s a warm fluid trickling down your leg. Heat spooling in your tummy.

He greedily ingests the sight of you fucking yourself, groaning hoarsely. You’re so close to spilling over the edge, so close to losing yourself to an orgasm. And you would—

If not for the sound of footfalls nearing your position.

“Shit!” you hiss, snapping your legs shut. Work your skirt into some semblance of neatness, throwing your coat over your legs. Your cheeks and neck are aflame, pulse pounding in your throat, pussy throbbing.

You don’t make eye contact as the gentleman passes, too busy looking at your fingers in your lap. He’s none the wiser to the goings on in your section—or, at least, he acts like he isn’t—as he bows with a small smile, slipping through the door behind. Sylus tracks his every move, and if looks could kill…

Your heart thrums heavily in your ears. You caution a glance at your boyfriend, taking in his flushed cheeks, his heaving chest. He’d thrown his coat over his lap to disguise the monster pressing against the seam of his trousers.

You lock eyes. His lips pull into a scowl as he sits up, pitching himself forward. Cants his head to one side, voice abrasive and low.

“Did I tell you to close your fucking legs?”

A thrill racks through you. It’s rare that he curses, only sullying his tongue when he’s upset or too far gone. It turns your stomach to a primordial ooze. Without warning, Sylus gathers himself up, snatching your wrist along with him.

You stumble like a baby fawn to your feet, gazing into those eyes that dwindle like liquid spilled over burning coals.

“We aren’t done here, sweetheart,” he promises with a tense jaw. Tugs you from your seat and down the aisle, all the while fishing for something in his pocket. A quick glance reveals a barcode, and a number printed in bold letters on a bit of plastic. A keycard. The sneaky little…

He peers at you over his shoulder as you both maneuver through the throng of passengers in the remaining cars, back towards the front. Your features warm with a smile. Legs tingle.

You weren’t aware that this train had sleeper cars, but you’re grateful to know it does. Your body buzzes with the prospect of what’s to come. He’s not done with you, indeed.  

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