#will also write drabbles if desired

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Sorry for spamming y’all, but a lot is happening rn

[keikaru]

the erotics of eating - Dunmeshi [Mithrun & the Demon]

Summary: Mithrun’s dungeon rises from the ashes of Eden. The demon studies the erotics of eating.

Content Warning: implied sexual assault

Desires nestles deep in his chest and the demon coaxes it out with a slow, steady hand. The demon’s hands press against his body, and Mithrun flinches from its cold touch. Prone on his back, Mithrun loses all desire to resist. The goat hovers above him and slowly lowers its mouth near his navel.

Mithrun closes his eyes and forgets how to breathe. The demon devours him, nuzzling its way into his body, his heart. His desires. The carnal way the demon devours his desires makes Mithrun lose all appetite of himself.

The first few moments when the demon penetrates him, it feels like nothing. But a sudden wave of pleasure ripples across his body and immobilizes him—strips his autonomy.

His breath hitches and fingers curl into the soft duvet underneath. Mithrun bites his lip, and his hips roll with intense desire. The demon’s hands—or are they claws?—grip his hips into place and steadies his movements. Mithrun gasps and his mind dims everything except the tremors of ecstasy overwhelming his body.

His feet curl, and his body throbs for release. Mithrun stifles his cry and pleasure, and shame tints his face. He weakly pries at the demon’s hands, but the effort drains his resistance. When he catches the demon’s gaze, it only smiles. The demon’s hands graze over his skin, tracing over his abdomen and murmurs how soft his skin feels and the alluring curve of his neck.

Mithrun loses his voice, and his eyes narrow with tears.

Finally, the demon obliges and motions with its index finger for Mithrun to come.

Like a chalice that overflows, Mithrun trembles and his body quivers violently under the demon.

He doesn’t want it. He wants to tear his body and mind away.

But he can’t resist.

He doesn’t want the demon to violate his sanctuary with perversions.

Mithrun spills over like an ink bottle tipping on its side. His body only reacts to physical stimuli. He’s not enjoying it. It repulses him, he hates it. It’s an act of degradation and control—

“Why do you make that face when consuming you is beyond erotic?”

Mithrun wanders deep in the labyrinth until he notices that the stone below his shoes grow damp. The walls around him become canines. Something is off.

The walls collapse, and

Something wet touches his neck and Mithrun snaps his neck to the ceiling. An unsettling feeling crawls at his chest, but he stubbornly swallows down his fear. He observes the dungeon around him. The air stills, and a faint rumble echoes through the halls.

Mithrun goes up to the wall, tapping his knuckle against it. He raises an eyebrow. His knuckles press against a malleable surface. The wall responds with an unusual squelching noise that only rouses his suspicion of the dungeon.

Specifically, the true form of the dungeon.

Upon closer examination of the stonework, the walls appear as if they’re moving. Pulsating. Mithrun steps back to unclasp his cloak. He activates his teleportation ability, and the cape replaces his hand with something moist.

Moist?

He realizes that the stone floors glisten with water. The ceiling drips water onto his hair and clothes, and he shivers. The walls shake and he realizes that it’s not made of stone but calcium and teeth.

His suspicions slide together like a puzzle and Mithrun only needs to piece together the last part. Mithrun drops his hand to his boot and produces a dagger.

Immediately, he stabs the wall. The walls shake with a silent scream.

The labyrinth collapses when Mithrun shatters the illusion.

[sttoru]

idk who needs to hear this but write what the fuck u want man 😭😭 drabbles & long fics about whatevaaaaa. jus do what YOU want, not because you feel obligated to

[good-beanswrites]

...*comes waltzing back through the revolving door* hhi. hi im back 🥺 I heard you were still open for drabble prompt requests so uhhhhh *slides my request across the table* here you go! 👉👈 (btw I am eating well tonight with all of these drabble fics omg thank you for writing these!!)

33. Wedding + Kazui

Hiii you're back!! :D Thank you so much, this had so many interesting possibilities ough... I ended up going with a convo with Mahiru (I hope you don't mind a second Mappi drabble lmao) as he reminisces about his past. Go vote your sad wet cat innocent today 👍

A hand darted out to grab Kazui’s wrist. Mahiru’s voice was weak.

“Can you stay? Shidou is going to be a minute. I don't want to be alone.”

Kazui was supposed to come in, drop something off, and return back to his cell quickly. He didn’t know how to comfort someone like Mahiru in general, nor did he know what to say after all that had happened. He hated the idea of seeing her like this when he was the one who hadn’t reached her in time. He really didn’t want to stay.

“I’d love to.”

He sat beside her, trying to make himself comfortable on the cool cell floor. 

She retracted her hand. “Thank you.”

Before Kazui could even wonder what a young woman like her would want to talk about, she whispered, “can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if it makes you upset.”

He was already regretting his decision. “Go ahead.”

“Could you tell me about your wedding?” Kazui felt his chest tighten. “I always dreamed of mine. You know, I had the whole thing planned already. He never even knew…” She laughed, but quickly winced in pain. “Things may have… changed between you two.” 

Kazui had been careful to hold details of his life closer than some of the other prisoners. None of them had a very good idea of what had brought him here -- he felt bad that Mahiru may have been under the wrong impression of his marriage. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

She asked, “but the wedding day itself… is it just as magical as everyone says?”

Despite the dim lighting, surrounded by a mess of bandages, Mahiru’s eyes glimmered.

“Yes,” he lied. 

“I knew it…” 

He couldn’t fabricate exactly what she was looking for. So he told her what he’d told himself many times before. It was the truth. Technically speaking, that is.

“That morning,” he began, “you wake with your stomach in knots. You feel the anticipation in your whole body.” He kept up a smile, and she seemed to buy it. “I’m a pretty organized guy, so I thought I’d be thinking about all our plans -- the schedule, guests, food, things like that. But I wasn’t worried about any of it. The only thing in my mind, all day, was her. And the many, many years ahead of us. The time stretches on for miles in front of you.”

Mahiru let out a content sigh.

“And everyone's so happy. I’ve never had that many people excited for me and my life. It’s everywhere you look. You breathe in and you can practically taste their joy.”

“Oh, that must be wonderful.”

“Y-yeah. It sure is something. And of course, when you see the other all done up for the first time, walking towards you with a huge smile, tears in their eyes… I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“What about the vows? And the rings? Is it really so special?”

“Of course. When you put on those rings, you feel inseparable.” Kazui folded his hands together. Hopefully Mahiru couldn’t see he’d taken his off. “You feel connected to them. You know you’re going to be with this person forever.”

She let out another dreamy sound, though he was beginning to falter. He was grateful when Shidou entered, apologizing for the delay. 

Kazui stood, offering one last smile. “I hope you can rest.”

“Oh, yes, especially now. Thank you. That was all so perfect.”

He turned to leave, his own words still echoing in his mind. His hand drifted into his pocket, brushing against the small silver piece.

You’re going to be with this person forever.��

On that day, it had seemed like a curse. Then again, on that day, ‘til death do us part’ seemed a lifetime away.

[seiya-starsniper]

Back on my Decobbed bullshit but hear me out

Hear me out

Soft Decobbed, Hob showering them with nicknames and both of these timeless idiots who haven't known kindness in their life are just disasters around a very lovey dovey Hob-

My favorite not so secret anon, I want you to know I used this ask as a motivator for me to finish up one of my dreamling week pieces so I could reward myself with indulging you.

Hob is ABSOLUTELY into the nicknames for Desire and Cori. And he doesn’t just do your standard pet names, (although his eldritch lovers still melt for those too), he makes everything personal, 600 years of living makes a man pretty creative, you know?

He calls Desire things like “my endless heart” and “goldilocks”, meanwhile Cori gets “my beautiful nightmare” and “little death”. All of these are cooed at them because Hob just can’t help but dote on his two beautiful loves. He’s also never said their full names in his entire existence, these two are Cori and Des forever.

As far as care taking, here's a little snippet for how I think it would go:

“You know, this is absolutely unnecessary,” Desire says, even as they take the proffered mug from Hob, who places a kiss to their cheek.

From beside him, the Corinthian snorts from underneath his multiple layers of blankets. “Hob’s a caretaker, baby,” he says. “You should just let him spoil you, even when it’s not needed.”

“Cori’s right, you should just let it happen,” Hob says from the kitchen. Moments later, he appears with two more mugs, and hands the one that says Have a Knife Day! to the Corinthian. The mug disappears underneath the blankets.

“Besides, “I think it’s plenty necessary,” Hob adds, as he snuggles his way in between the two of them, wrapping an arm around Desire and settling the Corinthian against his chest. “That was intense for all of us, but especially you two. You deserve a treat after all that.”

“It was only the family dinner,” Desire sighs, rolling their eyes. “I expected as much from all of them. Especially Dream.”

“Just because you expected it, doesn’t mean it needed to happen, Des,” Hob says softly. “What Dream said about you wasn’t fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Desire sniffs into their mug. “You’re well aware of how cruel I’ve been to him. How cruel we’ve both been,” they add, nodding at the Corinthian, who stiffens ever so slightly against Hob’s chest.

“And you’ve both also talked through those issues with him individually,” Hob replies. “Multiple times, in fact. I can’t pretend I understand all of it, but I know you both acted within your natures, just as he acted within his. He was the one who chose to bring up old wounds, and be mean about it.”

“It’s ‘cause you were there,” the Corinthian grumbles. “He’s been trying to turn you against us for ages.”

“Well good thing I’m stubborn,” Hob replies, placing a kiss to one ocular mouth peeking its way from underneath the Corinthian’s blanket pile. 

“I’ve been dealing with his temper tantrums for centuries now,” he continues. “I can be his best friend and lover to both of you, and he knows it.”

“You truly are a gift, aren’t you?” Desire purrs, finishing the last of their tea and placing the mug on the table. “I think I’d like to have the rest of my comfort in bed.”

“Oooh me too,” the Corinthian says, emerging from his cocoon, his mug also empty. Hob’s not sure when the blond drank the whole thing, but he’s not complaining.

“Well, with a request like that, how can I refuse?” Hob grins as he gets up from the couch. “Lead the way, ducks.”

[silverysongs]

in the dying candle's gleam

In bed, she stares up at the canopy and wonders how it would have been if she’d been braver. Arthur, she would say, I’ve never danced like that before. Arthur, no one has ever insulted me the way you do. Arthur, how many times have you snuck out and been a commoner again just because you can disguise yourself so well? Arthur, you make me frightened and happy all at once. Arthur, I think I want you. Arthur, I think I love you.

And then what? Would he be shocked and then make some awkward excuse and leave? Would he laugh in pure amazement? She thinks of Lancelot, towering above her, bending down to kiss her with such tenderness, looking at her with fire in his terribly noble gaze. No, Arthur would not be so passionate, not at first. But perhaps he would take her hands, and smile like he had today when he was looking at her, so soft, like a boy, shy and sweet, and then he would say, I think I love you too. And perhaps then he would kiss her—not those cold brief kisses that they did for the crowds—he would lean in, slowly, to give her enough time to pull away, and she would hear his breath trembling, and later she would ask him, Was that your first real kiss? and he would look charmingly embarrassed and say, Was it very bad? And then she might say, Well. You just need practice and encouragement.

There is a difference between dreams and reality. Guenevere knows this; she and Arthur and all the rest have been trying for months to close the gap between the two. Reality is hard and harsh and unyielding, difficult to mold, harder to change entirely. Dreams are soft. Like Arthur’s laugh. Like Arthur’s eyes. Like Arthur himself, at the core of who he is, wanting to reach out and touch the world and change it, easily.

Reality is also frightening. It scares her, whatever that unspoken something was, in his eyes, in his touch, in his patience with her black mood, in the wild way he’d spun her around the room and made her laugh. Guenevere lets her dream fade, because she knows she cannot reach out and change what is real: if she says something, she cannot truly predict how he will answer. She rolls onto her side and tries to sleep.

[twistedisciple]

Danse Macabre

Dancer Mastery drabble: 474 words

cw: gore

The anthurium was a kind of dance. At that age, it was the only one Griss knew. Costuming of vibrant red, splattering over footsteps meandering across the grey stone bowl of the arena in looping spirals. Raptured cries, an orchestra, and the air heavy with the stench of rosebuds, dozens of which bubbled from ravines carved in flesh. Each disciple circled a partner, like dancers (like animals), but cloudy eyes were flung to a distant nirvana where the world was painted gold and skin sang for touch. Practice had left Griss’ fingers stained and blistered, but no less eager for their turn to weave past another’s spread hand to ring around a neck instead. He would leave the golden land long enough to look into their eyes, and find humanity in all its colors. He had practiced for that, and taken the sacred Eyes of God in its constituent parts until he could fight off its numbing haze for the kaleidoscope of sensation.

When his time came, his steps were flawless, and the gales he commanded made a path strewn with the hands and fingers and ears and feet of his partners, all blooming poppies like human-shaped vases. Lord Sombron, guide me. Lord Sombron, guide me. He slurred the words through the haze that ebbed every now and again, like a hymn sung over the shrieking choir. It would build a staircase over the darkening garden and its bleeding lines to the realm of gods if he kept singing. He knew this, so he didn’t look down. His body acted on its own will to survive. 

Another partner. Another half-formed boxstep. She collapsed into his arms like a cut-string doll but he had missed the glitter in her glassy eyes before they shut. Another then. There had to be another. His fingers stung, his feet ached, but he knew it meant he needed more. It was the only thing he knew. The staircase before him had no end. The path behind him had no beginning. The orchestra had no melody. There was neither sky nor earth, neither life nor death here, but like the way some lowly beasts could wander for a while in ignorance of the horror inspired by their headless bodies, the dance went on in aimless confusion. One more and he would find what he was looking for. Just one more. Just one more. Just one more.

They had to pull him out trembling and slicked nearly black. Just one more. Lord Sombron, guide. Just one more. Lord Sombron, guide me, he kept saying, eyes peeled back to their whites but seeing nothing of the pulpy garden, the painted walls, or even the divine staircase, for that matter. Pulverized into nonsense, there was nothing left of an ordered world. His daydreams had forgotten to remind him of the shape of death.

[good-beans]

WIP Poll Tag Game

I'll write as many sentences as there are votes for the winner of this poll! Thank you @thepatchycat -- this is such a cool game aw! My dusty wips thank you as well... 😂

(For the audio editing I'll do like 5 minutes for each vote or something 👍)

And I'll tag @chinchillasinunison, @fayesdiary, @elegyofthemoon, @plantpretender, @jannede @nitetime-moon, @red-moon-at-night, and @amugoffandoms -- and anyone feel free to join in!

[erstwhilesparrow]

i am in a problems-causing mood, a phrase which here probably means i need to do a task and go to bed.

[forhyune]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・779 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・hyunjin x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, intentional lowercase / 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲・inspired by That ig post and my own recent visit to tokyo. happy birthday, @astraystayyh; consider this my official proposal (˘⌣˘ )♡

when you slip out the hotel’s double doors, you’re stunned to find the world has gone completely dark.

just a few hours ago, you were oohing and ahhing at the colorful chaos of tokyo as the van trudged slowly along the jammed freeway. now, blue has been overtaken by obsidian, and the illuminated city sprawls beneath an invisible horizon like stars plucked from the empty sky.

“the sun sets early here, huh?” hyunjin hums as he appears at your side. his dark hair is scented and silky from his shower, his broad shoulders outlined by the denim trench coat he’s thrown over a black turtleneck—the most beautiful boy on earth, and he’s yours.

“i was j-just thinking that,” you answer through chattering teeth, and your boyfriend’s chuckle hits the air in the form of a silver cloud.

“i told you you’d need this.”

he drapes a puffer jacket around you; his arm follows, draws you near. you slot into his side perfectly.

“better?”

your eyes lock with hyunjin’s, then flicker downwards. the doormen are busy loading a luggage cart. the foyer is empty for the most part. empty enough. 

“better,” you respond, moments before you lose yourself in the warm pressure of his lips.

soft hair tickles your cheeks like butterfly wings. hyunjin’s been tempted to cut it recently, complaining that it’s getting too long. you’ve been rejecting the notion vehemently, and this is one of many reasons why. your fingers skim over the base of his neck, and the air that hyunjin sucks through his teeth whistles between your parted mouth.

“cold,” he whines. 

a giggle escapes your throat. “sorry.”

recently, your and hyunjin’s schedules have been clashing so awfully that you really only see each other before and after bed. both of you are well accustomed to these cycles of mutual scarcity by now; it is enough, during such times, just falling asleep to the sound of the other’s voice, or waking to kisses scattered across every inch of exposed skin and a quiet, melancholy “see you tonight, angel.”

but then, you miraculously stumble upon a free weekend that coincides with the last leg of hyunjin’s tour. he’s on the phone with staff within seconds of hearing the news; your boarding pass arrives in your inbox later that night; now, here you are, in japan on a friday night, burrowed in your boyfriend’s arms, your sights set on a tiny udon joint in the back alleys of shinjuku.

going out in public with hyunjin feels like you’re playing poker. dispatch is your opponent and the deck is always rigged. ninety-nine percent of the time, you prefer to circumvent the game entirely. 

you’re all in, tonight.

“it’s a twenty-seven minute walk.” dark locks fall into hyunjin’s face as he looks at the navigation app on his phone. “is that okay?”

“you tell me. you’re the one who rehearsed for three hours today." you reach for the loose strands; tuck them behind the cuff of his ear. “maybe we should just take the subway.”

“but i wanna explore the city with you.”

“and we can, after your concerts.”

“i only have you for two days. let’s start now.”

the funny look you give him says, we have an apartment together, idiot, and he hastens to add—

“okay, i only have you here for two days. it’s different.”

that, you can’t argue with. hyunjin takes your lack of a retort as his cue to begin your journey, dragging the both of you onto the sidewalk. 

“i will not be the one answering to chan when you oversleep tomorrow,” you mumble.

his hand stretches out where it rests on your shoulder, silently asking for yours. you oblige before you even process his request, your fingers sliding thoughtlessly in the spaces between his.

“deal.” hyunjin presses a swift kiss to your temple, your eye squinting shut at the contact.

if you’re being honest, you hardly remember the walk to the restaurant. all the bright lights are beautiful but get old quickly, eventually blurring into a forgettable, fluorescent mass.

what you do remember is hyunjin’s excited gasp when he recognizes the anime being advertised on a distant billboard. hyunjin’s flawless japanese as he helps an old couple with directions, and the proud smile he wears afterward (he’s been practicing). hyunjin’s fingers pulling you close by the loops of your jeans, his mouth slanting over yours for the ninth, tenth time with no justification except for you’re just so pretty. hyunjin’s hair fluttering over his eyes when he tilts his head at the camera, the resulting picture so maddeningly beautiful that it becomes your new wallpaper right away.

what you do remember from that evening, and what you would remember in every iteration of your life, is hyunjin.

(you remember the udon, too. it was very good.)

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[godzexperiment]

It was one of those days he didn't want to talk, or communicate in writing and it went smooth enough. Though, he did have his constant observation of how people talk way more than they think. Only hiccup being around shift change; when his guardian returned and asked about the day so far. The air filled with silence created an immediate pivot. Signing to inquire if Nix had gotten up to any trouble. To which Nix rolled his eyes and flipped off in response but couldn't hide the look it was all in fun. Or that the answer was clearly yes he had yet to cause trouble.

-------

Sleep could be hard to come by, even with all energy zapped from training and drills. Exactly why ended up with their hands pressed together in the night. Boredom- tired but not tired. Nix signing, having them mimic and then correcting ever so gently. Brief whispered translation here or there; hardly an conversation and for fun throwing in the odd hand signal. Just for the amusement of when it registered as such. Eventually their hand got less animated, wasn't much long after they fell asleep. And after an moment so did he.

------- Marker softly traced onto his skin; fingers flexed and hand stretched once done with the first hand. Just triple checking the work for no real reason, after all did it often enough that would have to try to mess it up. His tongue stuck out in concentration as then did his other hand. Away from his body, countless check overs and just enjoying watching the ink moving with his hand. Before shoving away the markers; hands pushing off the bed as he hopped down onto the barracks floor.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

88 - Help Yourself

(Inspired by the official Deltarune Halloween/6 year anniversary artwork by Temmie Chang. It's really cute, go and check it out if you haven't done so yet!)

(content warnings for stylised gore and suggestive language)

Trick-or-Treat! I made lots of delicious candy for you to eat, so please help yourself to as much as you want! That's what it's for, after all!

What do you think of my costume? I worked very hard on it, so I'd look as sweet and yummy as possible! Wouldn't you say I look good enough to eat? Haha, there's no need to be shy, I can already see you licking your lips...

...but how rude of me, after you've come all this way! Your costume is to die for - robes black as night, collar crimson like jelly... and what adorable little fangs you have there! All the better to take a bite out something delectable, wouldn't you say?

Oh, and isn't that... a knife? You should be very careful around me with that, because everyone knows that cakes are weak to knives, haha! ...b-but if you really wanted to, I wouldn't say no if you were to help yourself to a slice or two...

...don't think about it too hard, my light. It's okay, none of this is real anyhow... so go ahead and treat yourself!Run your greedy fingers through my immaculate frosting, sink your blade into my crumbling sponge and cut yourself a second, third, fourth helping. That's it, take as many mouthfuls as you please... doesn't it taste good? And oh, dare you lick the jam and crumbs from your knife, for just one last little taste of me? Don't fret about the mess, my dear - someone else will clean it up.

And when you've had your fill and I am nothing more than a memory, tell me... will your appetite have been satiated then? Will I have finally fulfilled my purpose and made you happy, even if only for that short, sweet while? Will the taste of my love linger on the tip of your tongue, or shall it fade away the moment you find another treat to devour?

...regardless, I hope that you enjoy me to the fullest. It's what I'm for, after all.

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 88

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[lotusbxtch]

Juno

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader Word count: 2.2k (lol this was supposed to be a drabble) Rating: Explicit - 18+, MDNI

Summary: Your honeymoon with Joel is off to a bang.

Warnings/tags: honeymoon sex (it’s very feral), unprotected PIV sex (they’re trying to get pregnant but be smart IRL!), oral sex (m and f receiving), big fat breeding kink, pussy pronouns, creampie, cumplay, mentions of foreplay over the clothes, sort-of/accidental voyeurism, very loud sex, rough sex, mentions of marriage/family planning/birth control use, dom!Joel, feral!Joel, references to pregnancy, no outbreak!AU, cursing (but honestly swear words should be the least of your worries for this story lol), Reader is female, has hair that is long enough to put into a ponytail, and able bodied but otherwise not described (it’s you, boo!), no use of y/n

a/n: This is what happens when a horny invasive thought is allowed to take root in my brain. My darling menace @for-a-longlongtime sent me this Reel and it made me… think about things. Combined with the inspiration of the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter, this is FILTH. Just… filth. But since @mountainsandmayhem and @alltheirdamn literally begged me to write this, here you are, written in a near-fugue state. Not beta’d, we’re doing this thing unprotected, just like Joel lmao. Banners by @saradika-graphics.

MASTERLIST

a/n pt 2: psssssst. Do you like Joel Miller? Do you want *more* Joel Miller? How about a series where not only Joel is your husband, but Frankie is your boyfriend? If so, tap here for SoCal to NorCal, my ongoing series!

I should have closed that damn sliding door.

You knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as you stepped foot into the immaculate, stylish Greek vacation suite you’d booked for your honeymoon with your new husband, Joel Miller. You’d spent the long flight teasing each other incessantly - the lightest of caresses, lingering kisses, surreptitious groping and heavy petting under the luxe blankets afforded to you by your first class seats. Joel couldn’t keep his hands off you most days, but now, fresh from your beautiful wedding as his darling wife? He was absolutely insatiable.

Joel had barely shut the front door on the endlessly kind bellhop before he was on you, ravenous with desire. His large hands began peeling off the soft layers of clothing you’d worn on the airplane, kissing you fervently and moaning into your mouth. You wove your fingers through your hair, tugging lightly when he kissed down your neck. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whined, and you felt him growl lowly before nipping at your pulse point.

“Been waiting hours to take you apart, baby,” he murmured. Sucking a hickey onto the column of your throat, he laved the spot with his tongue to soothe the light pain. “Teasing me when you knew I couldn’t do shit about it.”

You pulled back on his hair with a yank, making him hiss. “You asked for it. You were the one rubbing circles against my clit through my sweatpants. My panties are ruined because of it.”

“Not my fault your pussy is so juicy,” Joel chuckled. “Especially now that she knows she’s gonna getting dicked down as many times as she can take it in a day.”

A couple months before your wedding, you and Joel discussed your desire to start trying for children. You’d thrown away your birth control after that conversation, but resolved to use other forms of protection until after the wedding.

You nor Joel had packed a single condom for this trip.

“Fuck me, Mr. Miller,” you breathed, moving your hand from his hair down his body to his rock-hard cock. He groaned when you made contact.

“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Miller,” Joel hummed, walking your naked body backwards towards the bedroom as you pulled at his clothes.

Now, you’re realizing that the sliding door to the ocean-view balcony is cracked open, allowing a lovely coastal breeze in but also letting your cries of pleasure float into the wind. Joel’s face is buried in your drenched pussy from behind you, his slurps and smacks obscene, not to mention his moans of ecstasy at the taste of your juices. You lay your chest onto the bed and take it - that’s all you can really do. You’re trying to stifle your sighs and moans, but your husband’s expert tongue is making that increasingly difficult.

“Oh god, right there,” you whimper, and your first orgasm of the day rolls through your body slowly, unfurling like the fragrant blossoms in the white-washed courtyard of the villa. He continues moaning and lapping up every drop of your essence while your body shakes.

One more hard suck on your clit, and then Joel is pulling you back onto your hands and knees on the plush cream bedding. He crawls towards your body, grabbing your hips with one warm hand while the other loosely grips his shaft, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds. 

You whine. “Please, Joel.” You’re not above begging when it comes to Joel’s cock.

Joel growls in arousal and begins to feed you his length, inch by inch. You bite your lip, trying to quiet the involuntary moans that the stretch of his girth seem to rip out of your throat. The villa is private, but you still have neighbors - you’d rather not have to face them at the dinner buffet later after they heard exactly how well your honeymoon was going so far.

“Such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” Joel praises you, his eyes never leaving how good his length looks sawing in and out of your soft pussy, shiny with your slick. The phrasing makes your cunt clench on him, which nearly shoves him off the proverbial ledge. He throws his head back, attempting to collect himself, and then notices you drawing circles around your aching clit. 

“Desperate to come again already?” he questions, quirking an eyebrow at you. You nod your head, pressing harder and swirling faster around your nub. 

“Then fucking come for your husband,” Joel grits out, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust of his hips. On the last word, you explode yet again, burying your mouth in the crook of your elbow to quiet your cries. Your pussy spasms over his length, nearly sending him over the edge, and you’re absolutely gushing for him, slick and juices running down your thighs.

Joel yanks himself out of your body, not ready to come yet. You cry out in disappointment, but he hauls him and yourself up off the bed.

“Kneel,” he commands. You drop to your knees onto the plush sheepskins rug, legs like jelly already. His hard cock bobs in front of your face, coated with the evidence of your orgasm. Your mouth opens and you drop out your tongue like a welcome mat.

Joel nearly comes at the sight before him.

“Suck,” he says simply. Grabbing your hair into a ponytail, Joel guides your blazing hot mouth onto his shaft, controlling the speed of your blowjob with his hands. He tries to avoid thrusting into your throat too hard, but he knows you like it rough. The taste of your own pussy is all over his dick, and it makes you dizzy with need.

You play the good girl, sucking and licking as directed by Joel’s moans and hand, but soon enough he’s hauling you off your feet to put you back onto the bed. His cock is an angry red color at the tip now, precum continuing to bubble out of the slit. 

“Wanna try out something new,” he mutters, laying you down on your back. He pushes your legs to your shoulders, nearly folding you in half, and guides your hands to the back of your thighs to hold them open. You feel so exposed, but it makes a thrill run up your spine. Joel kneels with his knees just under your ass, leaning over you, before taking his hand and running it through your soaked folds, reveling in the filthy wet sounds your center makes for him. You whine, desperate for more. Joel places your calves on his shoulders as he leans forward, caging you with his body. One hand drops to the bed to steady himself, while the other grabs his cock and lines himself up again.

“Have you ever tried this one?” Joel asks you with a smirk.

You smile wickedly back, knowing what you need to say to egg him on. “Can’t say I have. Wasn’t exactly trying to get bred.”

You see Joel’s eyes flash at the last word, a ferality burning in his irises. A near-snarl erupts from his mouth as he bottoms out in one powerful thrust. A loud moan rips from your throat, and you slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself, remembering the balcony door is still open. Joel shoves your hand away, grinding deeper into your cunt, brushing against your cervix. You can barely breathe with the intensity of pleasure racing in your veins.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back home, eliciting another loud cry from you. “If you wanna be bred so bad, I’m gonna make everyone at this resort know exactly how much you want it.” With that, Joel sets a punishing pace, his hips and balls slapping against your slick skin. The wet sounds of your mutual pleasure ricochet through the room, and probably outdoors. In this position, all you can do is lay there and moan and cry and take it. Your pussy continues seeping slick, wave after wave running down your ass and thighs, dampening the heavenly bedding.

You’ve never been so fucking wet in your entire life, and Joel knows it.

“God, this pussy is so fucking juicy for me, huh? Just want to get bred that bad, huh?” He mutters to you as he fucks into you so deep that you nearly feel him in your throat. You’ve long since lost your ability to silence your noises, a steady stream of loud gasps and cries emanating from your mouth. Joel just feels so fucking good inside of you, and suddenly you start babbling.

“Yes, baby, I’m so fucking wet for you,” you moan, the pleasure coiling in your bones with every thrust of Joel’s thick girth inside you. “You’re so deep, you fill me so good, don’t stop don’t stop don’t stooooopppppppp –” Your words are cut off by a silent scream as you come for a third time. The pleasure shimmers across your limbs and a shaky moan finally snakes its way out of your throat.

He growls, fucking into you even harder. “Good fucking girl, let me hear you,” Joel grits out. He picks up his pace, clearly getting close to his own orgasm. The increase in speed releases a surprised scream from you, your loud cry stuttering from the sheer force of Joel’s thrusts into you. His hips are a blur, and your third orgasm begins to build into your fourth, the intensity ratcheted to new heights.

“That’s right, scream for me,” he moans, his thrusts getting erratic as his peak approaches. “Want me to fill up this messy pussy, get it even messier? Gonna fuck you so full it has no choice but to take.”

Joel’s words cause a riot of tingles to cascade across your skin. “Yes, please, fuck me full, Joel. Give me your cum, make it stick, give me a baby, please,” you cry, and Joel slaps your ass hard, and you scream again. There’s no doubt that everyone within a mile radius can hear the two of you, but your head is so full of pleasure that you really couldn’t care less. All you can think about is Joel, his cock, and how badly you want to be dripping with his cum.

“Oh god, honey, I’m gonna come,” Joel whimpers, and to send him over the edge, you clench down on his cock as hard as you can. He gasps. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna cooooooo–”

Joel shoves his cock as deeply into you as possible, bellowing loudly in ecstasy, triggering your own orgasm to crest at the same time. His release is so intense that it feels like his hot cum is jettisoning directly into your uterus, filling you to the brim. He pumps shallowly into you, prolonging the pleasure for both of you.

When the last spurt of his spend lands in your womb, Joel collapses on top of you, rolling you to the side, still buried within your clutch. Your sweat-slick limbs tangle as you both try to catch your breath. The gentle breeze flutters the curtains.

Everything feels hazy and perfect.

Eventually you come to, pressing kisses to Joel’s completely blissed-out face, eliciting a soft smile across his plush lips. You kiss your husband softly, slowly, and sensually. He gives your nose a peck, and then buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent deeply.

“Fuck, that was…” Joel starts, lost for words to describe what just happened.

“... incredible,” you finish his sentence, beaming at him. You intertwine your fingers, so elated that Joel is really yours forever.

Joel nods and kisses you one more time, then moves to untangle your aching limbs, massaging your muscles with his strong hands. He pulls out of your messy center slowly with a groan, watching as his cum begins to seep out of you. You watch as he scoops away the runaway seed, pushing it back into your cunt. A brief flush of arousal pulses in your veins at the sight.

“Gotta keep it where it belongs,” Joel croons, winking at you as he walks towards the bathroom to rinse off and grab you a towel. You giggle, moving to prop your legs and hips up on your pillows, allowing his release to pool & settle inside you. The idea of finally having a baby with the love of your life makes your insides flutter with joy.

While you rest, you pull up Snapchat, curious to see what other fellow travelers are up to in the area. You tap around the map, watching stranger’s stories of sailing excursions, lounging on the shore, and eating delicious food. You notice a Snap story in the same vacation complex as your rental, and you tap on it excitedly, hoping to get a sense of some fun things to do in the area.

The video opens up in selfie mode as a blonde, sunglasses-wearing traveler records himself outside on his villa’s patio, laughing quietly and rubbing his arm awkwardly with the caption “Sounds like our new neighbors on holiday in Greece are having a whale of a time… Only been here 10 minutes!” In the background, a woman can be heard screaming with ecstasy, clearly having sex, her voice stuttering as whoever she’s fucking is giving it to her hard. You then hear a slap, then another cry of pleasure.

Wait a minute.

Not a slap… a spank.

Your nerves frost immediately and heat blazes up your neck as your mouth drops open, realizing that the couple having very loud sex… is actually you and Joel.

Oh no. 

...I REALLY should have closed that damn sliding door.

MASTERLIST

Tagging in case you, too, are horny for Joel (please let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tags!): @mermaidgirl30 @sin-djarin @perotovar @qveerthe0ry @nerdieforpedro

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @yxtkiwiyxt @almostempty @almostfoxglove @guiltyasdave

@legendary-pink-dot @arcanefox207 @dancingtotuyo @musings-of-a-rose @milla-frenchy

@yopossum @polaroidpascal @chippedowlmug @magneticecstasy @reggiesfilthylittlesecret

[leona-hawthorne]

funny how some people will preach “support writers!!” and then turn around and reblog posts shitting on people who write short drabbles and smut like it’s a crime. newsflash: not everyone has the time, energy, or desire to sit down and write a 10k yearning slowburn every time they want to post something. sometimes people just wanna write 500 words of filth and call it a day. because it’s supposed to be fun. it’s a hobby. what’s so hard to get?

also… you’re not slick. you know damn well your mutuals (aka the very people who write the type of content you’re complaining about) were gonna see that passive aggressive ass reblog. it’s disrespectful. instead of crying because someone’s 800 word smut drabble got more notes than a 12k yearning fic, maybe take a breath and remember nobody owes you a certain type of content. if you want long fics so bad, go write them yourself. or idk, look for them instead of bashing writers who are just doing what makes them happy. they’re literally out there.

it’s also so embarrassing to see writers dragging other writers because they’re bitter about engagement. i write long fics too. i have fics that are 5k+, 7k+, 9k+, and yet you don’t see me out here making unnecessary posts and reblogs about what other people decide to create with their hobby in their own free time.

anyway. support all writers. don’t bash them for having fun and writing what they want instead of what other people want. ♡

[ghoulishhx]

girl sub!frank is keeping me up at night what have you turned me into…

ANYWAYS

how do you think he would be eating you out because like we all know that man is a munch lmaooo (im so feral for that nose omfg)

-💥 luv ya diva

girl you and me both. sat giggling and kicking my feet as I scroll through your requests, I feel like you see me on a whole other level and love you for it 🫶

but frank eating pussy.. strap the fuck in i have THOUGHTS. 18+ MDNI below the cut :3

- he is messy. a messy fucking eater, lapping you up like he's a man starved, drinking your juices as if it was a freezing cold glass of iced tea on a summers day. I can't stress enough, he is addicted.

- his favourite thing to do in the bedroom is eat you out, yeah sex is fucking phenomenal but the feeling of your writhing around his face, your thighs clamping his head as you tug on his curls.. it's as if he died and went to heaven.

- he often wakes up on the weekends, cock painfully hard as he watches you sleep next to him soundly, the little noises you make in deep sleep as you wrap your legs around his. it takes every bit of self restraint to not devour you there and then. sometimes he does give in, waking you up with his tongue deep inside of you as you subconsciously rub your clit along his nose.

- his. nose. his fucking. nose. oh my god that's it that's the headcanon. he knows his nose and how much power it holds in these situations. tongue inside your entrance, moving his face just a little so his nose rubs deliciously across your clit as he hears you whimper and feels you arch your back and clamp his tongue with your walls.

- frank is intent with making you cum at least twice either on his tongue or his fingers before he fucks you, revelling in the way you beg and whine for him desperately between orgasms. feeling so desired, so needed fills his heart.

- he. talks. you. through. it. even when his mouth is full of you, he still whispers filthy fucking things into your core

"fuckin' hell doll, taste so fuckin' sweet."

"that's it baby, use m'face. take what ya need sweet girl."

"so fuckin' wet, this all f'me?"

"love this messy fuckin' pussy, shit.. so perfect. all fuckin' mine."

- he loves to fuck you on his fingers as he swirls your clit around his tongue, and he can't help but buck his hips into the bed beneath him, chasing any amount of friction as he is so unbelievably aroused. but frank is a selfless lover, he'd happily forget all about his own pleasure if it meant he could hear you whimper his name while he fucks you with his tongue.

- he sometimes cums in his jeans just from tasting and feeling you on his mouth and/or fingers. yeah.

- he is so fucking proud whenever he makes you cum just from his tongue, getting all cocky as he lifts his head from your open legs, and big shit eating grin across his face as he looks at his fingers, sticky with a ring of cream at the knuckle. he doesn't think twice and laps up every drop, savouring your taste, knowing that he's the one who made you feel like that makes him so adorably happy.

- frank wants to eat you out whenever he can, taking every chance. even if it doesn't lead to sex, it's kinda like an oral fixation for him i guess. he lives to serve, he loves his girl so damn much and loves the sound she makes when she cums the same amount.

somebody SEDATE ME.

(also I do apologise I've been writing a lot of drabbles and headcanons recently, I've been going through some stuff in my personal life and been struggling to find the energy to write anything too long. I have some plans for the future though, love you all and I'm sorry again!)

also the gif is jon in sharp stick!!

[viperify]

drabbles | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⟢ late nights at the library.

All you crave is a break and sleep—but Tom Riddle being your tutor and boyfriend makes your life just a little bit more complicated.

“This is the third time you have gotten this wrong.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair you were sitting in. “Tom, I know. I just— it’s late, okay? We have been here for what? Five hours?” 

He raised a brow, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “That’s right. So, any reason why you can’t remember? Do I need to explain it again?”

You wished you had known what you were signing up for when you started dating Tom. Endless hours of studying together. Him acting like your tutor when he was supposed to be your boyfriend. He had this never-ending ambition and motivation that you just couldn’t match in the slightest.

Yes, you were one of the better students as well, but nobody and nothing could match Tom Riddle—top student in every single class. Sometimes you wondered how he managed it all. How he could be so perfect. Studying, revising, prefect duties. It was almost like you needed an appointment to meet him, even as his girlfriend.

He seemed like a student as any other—though so special in his own way. The hunger for knowledge and power. The desire to become prefect, head boy, a professor. 

The softer side to him that only you would ever get to see—except when you were studying together, that is. 

“Please, can we just leave? I am so tired.”

You didn’t leave. Not until you finally got it right. Not until you were completely drained, eyelids fluttering closed every other minute.

“Come on, I will bring you to your dorm.” He said softly after returning the books to where you had taken them from. Taking your hand in his and helping you up, he led you out of the dark and empty library. There were no words needed when you arrived at your dorm. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Tom exhaled, deeply. “Fine. But just this once.”

He always said that.

A minute later, you entered his dorm instead, and it was as if his guard had dropped the second the door closed behind you both. He took off his and your robes, hanging them on the coat stand behind you. 

And then, without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his arms. He held you close, your head buried against his chest as his hand caressed your hair, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Finally, your worries started to fade, exhaustion taking over. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he took in your expression, swiftly helping you out of your uniform and into your pyjamas. How he’d gotten them—you didn’t know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All you wanted was him—his kisses, his warmth, his support. 

Of course, he knew.

So that’s what he gave you—pulling you close as soon as the both of you lay down, pressing a gentle kiss to your soft lips before letting you cuddle into his side.

“I am proud of you, darling.” Tom whispered right before you drifted off to sleep, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I always am.”

You smiled softly in response, drawing soft patterns on his chest.

“I love you so much, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | drabbles.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: Just a little fluffy drabble bc I crave this man’s love and support during exam season. Ugh. <- This is also why I will be posting a little less/shorter works due to me basically having no time to write for the coming two weeks! I love you guys and hope to be back to normal asap! <33