#// a mess. a mess of thoughts and my brain looks for the happy moments. chases the happy

[sugar-coat-it]

Hey um request… overstimulation like insane overstimulation like matty goes down on her until she’s begging him and telling him she can’t come again and then he slides in and yeah. thinking normal thoughts❤️

WELL YES ABSOLUTELY VERY NORMAL THOUGHTS 

I’m also now thinking said normal thoughts that I will share right now 

Contains: overstimulation, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected, penetrative sex, praise, crying 

WC: 1.8k

Kneeled at the edge of the bed, Matty’s head is buried between your thighs. You’ve lost track of how long he’s been down there, time a foreign concept to you when it feels like your brain is dripping down your spine. He holds your legs over his shoulders, one of his favorite tricks to make you see stars, allowing him to practically drown in you with how close he is, your heels digging into his back as your thighs clamp around his head. All he can taste, smell, and hear is you, and that’s all he needs to be a happy man. That along with making you cum until you’re a dumb, pretty mess. 

The way he has you behaving is almost humiliating, but you’re far too lost in the throws of overwhelming pleasure to care. One of your hands is on his head, fingers knotted into his mop of dark curls, somewhere between pulling on his hair and trying to push his head back. The other grasps at the sheets like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing binding you, keeping you from totally detaching from your trembling body. Broken moans and gasps are pulled from your lips over and over, your voice raw from crying out for him. You’re a goddamn sight to see with the way your back arches, your head tossed back as your body jerks like you’ve been possessed.

“Fuck, Matty!” you sob, a few stray tears trailing down your burning cheeks and neck as you keep an iron grip on his hair. 

You can’t even remember how many times he’s made you cum at this point, your head is swimming as you land on somewhere around five times. Five times he’s forced an explosive orgasm out of you, not even giving you a moment to breathe before he’s thrusting his tongue inside of your sopping cunt again, his nose nudging at your abused, aching clit. His jaw must be killing him, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he’s looking up at you from between your legs, watching you intently with a determined glint in his pretty, honey-colored eyes. You’re making pathetic whimpering sounds as he drags the tip of his tongue back up to your swollen bundle of nerves, your hips jolting forward when he wraps his lips around it and sucks. Matty moans like he’s tasting something of pure divinity. The sensation tears through you, setting you ablaze from the inside. 

“I-I can’t! Matty, please- please, I can’t cum again!” you gasp, your hips raising off of the mattress only for him to push you back into place. 

He coos with mock empathy, pulling back just enough to speak, his chin and lips glistening with your arousal. Your cunt is throbbing enough to call it a second heartbeat, even amidst this moment of reprieve from his loving assault. 

“Mm, but you’re doing so well, you can take another, can’t you? I know my girl has another one in her,” he murmurs, leaning to kiss your plush inner thighs.

Matty takes this moment to admire you as he rests his head against your leg, his curls spilling along the top of your thigh. He feels his cock jump in his briefs at the sight of you, your flushed cheeks, blotchy from the tears of mascara down your face. Matty groans softly, lashes fluttering as he takes one of his hands off of you to grasp himself through his underwear, needing any sort of relief from how painfully hard he is. You just sit there and whimper, somehow considering his request despite how entirely spent you are. You’re either a glutton for punishment or just so goddamn eager to please him. 

“But it’s so much,” you pout, still chasing after your breath with a heaving chest, your legs quivering. 

“I know, I know sweet girl. But you’re going to take it, yeah?” he instructs, a firmer tone bleeding into his voice as he’s made up his mind that you can in fact cum a sixth time. 

You whine, squirming with frustration, but nod anyway. Matty’s face lights up at that, his eyes twinkling as he delves into your cunt again to press a delicate kiss to your clit as a thank you. That feather-light kiss quickly escalates into him flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit at a mind-numbing pace, your hips rolling against his face as jolts of fizzling pleasure rip through your core, your eyes squeezing shut. You’re beginning to lose yourself again when he suddenly pulls away, easing your legs off his shoulders as he stands up. Your eyes snap open as you make a noise of surprise, your legs feeling somewhat numb as they hang off of the edge of the bed. Matty shushes you, reaching his thumbs beneath the elastic of his briefs to slide them down his legs, kicking them off to the side. Your lips part at the sight of him before you, instantly shutting up as you drink him in, the tip of his rock-hard cock colored an aggravated shade of pink from being neglected. 

“Wanna fuck you through this last one,” he says, shifting forward to stand between your legs with his cock in hand. 

Matty hisses through his teeth as he runs the head through your velvety, honeyed folds, coating himself with you before reaching to pump his shaft, spreading the mix of your arousal and his precum. He lets out a satisfied hum, all too pleased at the sight of his cock slicked with how soaked he’s made you. The process is familiar, he aligns himself with you before slowly starting to sink inside, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips. You let out mirrored, shuddering sighs at the feeling, the both of you shamelessly watching as he pushes into you, disappearing inch by inch. You’re so ready for him from your numerous orgasms that you don’t even wince as he stretches you out, letting out a weak gasp as he bottoms out and immediately moves to wrap your legs around his hips. Matty starts to rock into you, murmuring about how perfect your cunt is for him as he starts with small, shallow thrusts. You’re shuddering already just from the way his pelvis slightly kisses your clit with each meeting of your hips. 

Matty is never one to waste time when it comes to you, he’s feeling out his rhythm as he starts to go harder, snapping himself into you and relishing in the way your tits bounce. Every sensation feels ten times as strong as it normally does when he fucks you, you’re hyperaware of every drag of his tip inside you. Matty’s eyes roll back until you can only see the whites of them as he angles his hips to go deeper inside of you, breathing out strings of obscenities. The feeling makes you cry out, your walls fluttering and constricting around his cock as he plows into you, holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

“So fucking good,” he groans, “do that again for me.”

Obediently, you clench again, but Matty believes he can make you clamp down on him harder as his hand snakes down between your bodies to find your clit. You squeal as his calloused fingertips begin to rub tight circles against it, squirming like a bitch in heat. Matty just smirks, feeling very accomplished as you get even tighter around his dick, not letting up despite your pleas for mercy (but, of course, he would stop entirely the moment you gave him your prearranged signal that you really couldn’t take it).

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, so fuckin’ tight ‘round me,” he grunts, his thrusts getting meaner. 

Your shallow breaths are rapidly becoming frantic pants as you feel almost panicked by the size of the tension compounding inside you with every swipe of his fingers, every drive of his cock. Matty stares right into your widened eyes, hastily moving to rest his forehead against yours, his curls slightly tickling your face as they bounce. Your nails are digging into his shoulders enough to leave angry, red crescents behind, but Matty doesn’t seem to mind one bit, the pace of his hand and his hips both unforgiving.

“Fuck! Oh my god, oh my god- Matty!” you chant, breathing in the musky scent of sex on him.

“You gonna cum for me again? Oh, baby, yes, c’mon. Give it to me, I wanna feel it,” Matty drawls, his grip on your hip becoming harsher as he pulls you to meet his thrusts. 

You nod feverishly, your back arched as far as it can stretch while high-pitched gasps spill in quick succession from your lips. You’re trembling from the top of your head to the tips of your curled toes. Your orgasm crashes over you, cascading in white-hot pulses over your body, the snapping of the tension inside you reverberating through your whole being. Your mouth opens in a silent cry, your body buckling against his as you ride through the overwhelming bursts of sensations, crackles of white sparking behind your eyes. Matty watches in awe of you, having to physically hold you down with both of his hands as you writhe. He’s only able to hold out a few seconds more because of how hard your cunt is squeezing around him, his pace stuttering. 

“Fuck yes! That’s it sweetheart, good fucking girl creaming all on my cock like that- fuck, I’m cumming,” he grunts, his head bowing forward as he gives one final, deep thrust, spilling his hot load into you. 

Your body goes almost slack against him as he fills you up, Matty panting as he rushes to hold you upright, leaning your weight against his chest. He plants a kiss on the top of your head, his nose buried in your hair as he feels you tremble. 

“God… you looked so beautiful just now. So completely overwhelmed,” he admires, sounding truly impressed as he rubs over your back adoringly. 

You feel as though you can hardly form words, so you opt for nodding softly against his chest, your hands clutching at his arms as the haziest of afterglows begin to settle in. Matty coos at you, knowing how fucked out you must be.

“My perfect girl. Did so well for me, took it all just like I knew you could,” he praises in a low, gentle voice. 

A soft, dopy smile is pulling at your lips, knowing how proud of you your boyfriend is, warmth flooding your chest as you catch your breath. Your head feels so light, almost like it’s not attached to your neck. 

“Was I good?” you murmur.

“Oh, the best, sweetheart.”

And then he takes care of you by giving you a bath and showering you with endless praise teehee the end

#YEAH HE LOVE ME BUT HE FUCKS ME LIKE HE HATES MY GUTS #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic #blurbs

[miaunifest]

könig headcanons ^_^

baking ver.

a/n: i am going to knead him like bread dough and gently place him in an oven . anyways silly könig in full force here !!! these r short bc work took up all my brain power ❤️

if there’s one thing this mountain man loves, it’s spending time with you

könig has a HUGE sweet tooth (which he controls .. most of the time), so when you asked if he wanted to learn how to bake one of your fave treats? he teleported to the kitchen ong

he pays really close attention to how you make it !!

makes note of exact measurements & when you’re just eyeballing it

(which is a majority of the time)

if there’s a portion that involves using your hands you take the opportunity to guide könig yourself

he melts so fast .

but he is like terrified he’s gonna mess it up

you reassure him he won’t, and even if he does it’s okay

it took you an embarrassingly long time to nail this specific recipe

so when your bf who was literally just stressing about if he overmixed it or not gets it down faster than you did?

your ego was a little (very) bruised

while he’s not looking you take cream/frosting and put it on his face

he thought it was gonna be wholesome & domestic quality time

until your gremlin ass ruined it

your hands are resting on the counter, ready to push off and make a run for it

until he goes back to what he was doing

then youre like ??? wtf man

so you go back over to him, helping

not even 5 minutes later you feel something on your cheek

you got gotted.

next thing you know you’re chasing e/o around, smothering e/o w the shit you actually need to successfully bake

you enjoy silly moments like these with your silly little bf. seeing him let loose and be all giggly with you :,)

before you have time to make your next attack you find yourself in a bear hug

you & könig are just being happy n giddy, holding you as you very poorly try to wiggle your way out

you turn around to face the babygirl himself

and he has a sickeningly sweet smile on his face

it is taking everything in you to not smother him half to death with love

(cuteness aggression much?)

you bring him down to your level to cover all the frosted parts of his face in kisses

he stands there & accepts his fate, giggling n blushing n shit

your kitchen is a mess & you’re pretty sure the dessert is burnt by now

but nothing matters in that moment besides the shared looks & pecks between you and your austrian hunk of a man

#könig mw2 #könig cod #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig headcanons #I LOVE SILLY KÖNIG SO BAD #HE DESERVES TO BE HAPPY HELLAUR #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #miaunifest #I WANNA EAT HIM

[gigidragonbbxxx]

Okay so I'll try to make it as simple and short as possible, for me the most logical way to manifest is REPETITION by repeating any affirmations over and over again it has no option but to manifest either a thought or a visual representation of your manifestation. So I've been repeating this one scenario in my head for around 2 years like the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep this specific scenario has been looping in my mind non stop even when I gave up on manifestation I quite all technique and everything I still used to loop this visuals (video) where I've everything I want like rn I'm thinking as if, I don't do this to get something I genuinely love doing this (acting as if/ visualizing) because obviously that gives me happiness my question here is why my subconscious is not reprogrammed yet when every second evey hour there is only scene in my head I don't get this and now finally I'm so hopeless and actually want a answer. Whether you believe it or not repetition is the key if you repeat something over and over and over and over and over again our brain creates new neural pathway and then it will show up in our reality. Then what the fuck is wrong with me

I REALLY WANT TO DIE NOWW

Everything will be okay. To whoever sent this, no you do not want to die. You want your new reality very badly and that's understandable.

So please bear with me and know I'm saying all of this with kindness:

from what I'm reading, you've been looping this scenario in your head for 2 years and are still looking for it. you already seemingly have read and taken the advice of repetition, acting as it, etc.

I'll be honest, I'm worried for you so I'm gonna go back to basics.

Are you viewing this reality as "It's mine now" or do you view it as something you're chasing?

Steps to Take:

take a break. seriously. take a break.

take stock of what has happened in your life within the 2 yrs you've been manifesting it - have there been small changes? have you been experiencing at the minimum, some of your desired reality?

take time to refocus on YOU. sit down, make a mind map of who YOU are and then make a separate one for your dream reality and see if they're truly different

treat yourself the same way the version of you in that reality would, just to jolt yourself in the feeling of living in the end and not just imagination, sometimes ppl need a lil 3D encouragement. for example, if the version of you always gets what they want, go into a store and buy your favorite snack just because. practice feeling good about your life.

even if you know what to do, going back and reading Neville Goddard or listening to edward art on youtube is helpful.

Final Piece of Advice

Suggested Affirmations

No matter what I feel, no matter how frustrated I am, nothing messes up the fact that my manifestations are coming in for me.

I know I am worthy of my dream reality.

I always do everything right.

I release any blockages or resistance that hinder me from experiencing my desired life

You know you deserve it. Treat yourself with love.

See you in your desired timeline, xx, gigi

#gigianswers #gigiwrites #law of assumption blog #affirm and persist #affirmations #law of assumption #loass #loassumption #neville goddard #manifestation #self concept #manifesting #loassblog #law of manifestation #edward art

[bloodlustngore]

Hair cut - Amanda Young

Another upload that’s not after a month or two?! I’ve got so many drafts not joking 😑.

Haven’t proofread half of them, and again this is one of those, clearly I’ve lost my writing mojo ✌️. According to my brain everything I write is shit now & doesn’t make sense.

Anyway…

Cw: Self-harm mention other then that fluff

Word count: Around 880?

Summary: Amanda decides she wants to cut her hair, her girlfriend helps her out.

Amanda got sick of looking at her long brunette hair, she wanted a new look and of course she was going to do it herself. Not that she knew what she was doing. The brunette didn't want to look at herself in the mirror like this, her long hair reminded her of her past and also the first time John had put her through a trap.

Enough was enough, she decided, grabbing a pair of scissors from the kitchen. But before she could reach the bathroom, Y/n, her girlfriend walked into the apartment. A look of concern on her face for a moment, given the brunette' history and known habit of self-harming which her girlfriend is trying to help her through if she feels like shes about to slip. "Amanda, what are you doing?"

"I...just want to get rid of this long hair. I can't stand to look at myself, every time it brings back shitty memories and the first time John put me through a trap. I can't look at it. I need change." Amanda sighed. Y/n walked closer to her girlfriend, kissing Amanda. "Change is good, baby. Just don't go hacking off your hair with those. I'll help you, if you want." Y/n mentioned. Amanda smiled back at her, happy that Y/n would help her, otherwise her air would be a mess. She let out a quiet laugh. "Okay, I'd like that."

Y/n grabbed Amanda' wrist, the hand she held the scissors from the kitchen in and took them from her. "First we get rid of these, I have a pair of hair dressing scissors in the bedroom." Y/n added. Amanda went into the bathroom, waiting for Y/n as she went into the bedroom to get what she needed, when she came back she had changed clothes completely.

"Change of clothes too?" Amanda chuckled and smirked when she saw that her girlfriend was just in her panties and a tank top that was Amanda'. "I wasn't gonna get hair on any of my clothes."

"But you're wearing my tank top, huh? I see how it is." The brunette couldn't resist when she pushes Y/n up against the sink, it wasn't very comfortable but neither women were bothered about that, especially when Amanda crashed her lips against Y/n'. The way Amanda kissed her was needy, with hunger, and when Y/n kissed back, the kiss ended up being deeper but a bit more sloppy in nothing but need. The way Amanda grabbed at the tank top Y/n wore (which was one of hers), and the way Y/n wrapped two fingers round the loops of Amanda' cargo', just to keep her as close as she possibly could. Teeth clashing, heavy breathing.

Y/n pulled away to catch her breath, Amanda smirking at her, chasing her girlfriends lips once more, this time for a quick kiss. "I thought we were cutting your hair?" Y/n chuckled, her lips ghosting over Amanda'.

"It's not my fault that my girlfriend decided to wear nothing but underwear and one of my shirts. You're just too irresistible." Amanda whispered in Y/n' ear, before pressing her lips to her neck. "Mandy..." Y/n let out a breathy sigh, her girlfriends nick name on her tongue.

Amanda with one last kiss to her neck pulled away. "You can have me all you want, but don't you want to cut your hair first?" Y/n added, a chuckle leaving her lips. Amanda smirked at her girlfriend "I'll hold you to that, Y/n." Y/n agreed with her, a silent promise that she could later. "Okay, do you trust me?" Y/n asked, knowing that it was a stupid question but she wanted to hear it from Amanda before she cut her hair.

"Yeah, of course I do." Amanda replied.

The brunette explained how she wanted it, and Y/n understood as she cut her girlfriends hair short. Once she was done, Amanda felt like she could breathe, she looked in the mirror and smiled. Her hair shorter than she's been used to having it. "Do you like it?" Y/n asked. Amanda' smile in the mirror as she moved her hands through her now short hair, was indication that she does but Y/n just wanted to be sure.

"I love it, thank you Y/n" Amanda turns to her, Y/n stands and admires her girlfriend. "Anytime Mandy. It really suits you." She replied, smiling.

Y/n just couldn't stop looking at her girlfriend, Amanda was so pretty and short hair was definitely her thing. Amanda laughed a little bit, she caught on that the woman in front of her was just completely enamoured by her. But Amanda was the same, Y/n was just so pretty and so sweet, Amanda didn't even know how she was so lucky or deserving of Y/n.

"What Y/n?" Amanda asked. Snapping her out of the trance the brunette seemed to have her in.

"Nothing, you're just really hot with short hair" Y/n smirked. Amanda smiled at her girlfriend, looking in the mirror, it was different but a change was nice, she could get used to having short hair more often.

#Amanda young #amanda young x reader #fluff #hair cut #Amanda young x fem!reader

[artsyriv]

Three Vignettes of Grief (TAZ NC Day 2)

Ok... so I was working on a piece anyways, so this was a good way to make it all fit. My prompt today was three for @taznovembercelebration, so we have a post-Ep 28 Amnesty fic for today :,)

Ned was a coward. He knew this, he had run from the truth for years, but still he knew. He knew he was a coward.

Maybe it had started as a child, some sort of aversion to pain or disappointment. He... he wasn't the most liked in school and so he just tried his best to ignore it. He was good at putting on a brave face.

He wasn't good at it now. Dani was rushing towards the crowd, and his legs were moving even as his brain fought him every step of the way.

Maybe it had started as a want to avoid his trouble with the law. Maybe it had started as a teenager, sticking to petty theft until it no longer felt ok. He had started with stealing from the local store with the beautiful hand sculpted pieces, but once the store closed, he felt that guilt consume him. But still he never tried to rectify his actions.

He was scared shitless, running towards Dani, who looked hungry. Her own hunger made him remember that he hadn't eaten today, too busy running from place to place, trying to undo the damage done.

He thought of french onion soup, and of Duck. He thought of their shared moment where they had been so happy. He thought of Duck finding out about the betrayal and bit down his sob.

He wanted that. He wanted companionship, his body warm from the fire of the ski lodge and the taste of hot soup. Because at his core, Ned was no hero. He was the biggest coward ever known to Kepler.

And yet he was the one running for Dani.

He thought of the letters in the Cryptonomica, of leaving an extra line for Aubrey. 'Aubrey, I saved your girlfriend. Please let this be enough to atone. Please please please.'

He was still writing pleases in his head when he slammed into Dani. It hurt and every muscle in his body was rigid and poised.

Dani was hungry and she was coming right for him but that was ok. He had done what he could. Nobody else had gotten hurt.

He thought of Aubrey, his friend....his former friend. He thought of trying to get her medical help while she was furious at him, her teeth bared as she yelled at him. He thought of how it was all his fault.

There was commotion all around him but that was alright. He was just Ned after all.

The stars were beautiful, and Mama was saying something. Mama was good people, he was sorry he stole from her. The stars were beautiful, and people were running and shouting but the wind was louder. And that was ok.

After all, he was just Ned. Ned The Coward Chicane. 

------------------------------------

Aubrey was no stranger to grief.

It haunted her constantly, chasing her from day to day until she allowed herself to feel it, or numbed it out. She thought she was doing better. She thought she was better.

She had told Ned to clean up the mess he had made. Instead, his body was laying on the ground in front of her. Mama was saying something, but Aubrey couldn't hear her.

Ned couldn't be dead. She had told him to leave.

Blame spreads like wildfire with that thinking.

Every face in the crowd was to blame, but the one that Aubrey kept settling back on was her own.

 Tears burned as Mama tried to hug her but it wasn't the time. She didn't deserve that comfort. Not right now. Not anymore. 

Later that evening, on Duck's couch as everyone from the lodge spread out around town, Aubrey let herself weep. She had found Ned's letter, had read it over and over and over again. She wondered if he knew how much he meant to her. How much she had cared about him. 

How much she didn't hate him. 

She missed his big bear hugs, his sense of dramatics. 

It had been a day at most since their fallout but she still found herself replaying every scene in her head. She had told him to leave when he was trying to help her. 

And he had left her with two gifts. Two gifts that made everything inside her raw and painful. 

He had saved Dani. He had sacrificed himself to save Dani. And while she was grateful for that, how could she not be, it made her last conversation with him that much more difficult. 

He had told her to hate him. 

She couldn't do that. 

Especially not with the second gift. 

His name. 

------------------------------

Duck wasn't an emotional person typically. Sure he got angry and he was over the top in terms of dramatics, but he wasn't sad typically. Sadness was for other people. He was just him. 

But as he read the letter quietly, trying not to disturb Minerva next to him in his bed that had always felt just a little too large and empty except for now, he felt the tears come unbidden. He wiped them away quickly. 

Ned had been a great friend. 

Sure, he was strange and always a little too eager to leave a situation, but he had always stood up where it mattered most, and that was what had gotten him-

Duck turned towards the window. Snow was falling again, but the main thing he saw were flashing lights. The UP and police had closed off topside, which made sense all things considered, but he could certainly do without the noise level, the constant sirens and helicopters. 

Aubrey was sleeping on the couch, Billy had new company with the other sylphs. In the morning, they would make a game plan, figure out how to survive without Ned. 

Duck cleared his throat and reached for his glass of water before realizing it was empty. Oh well, he had been up for a while. 

Walking down the hallway felt different. He felt different. Empty. Lacking life in some respect. 

He stopped by the living room, noting that there was sniffling coming from the direction of the couch. 

Duck wanted to run from this. Run from this conversation, this interaction that was sure to make them both feel more sad rather than less. But if Ned could do it, so could he. 

Duck knocked on the wall softly. 

----------------------

In the morning, they would come up with a game plan, figure out how to live without Ned. 

But now it was time to grieve. 

#taz #taz amnesty spoilers #taz amnesty #taz fanfic #taz november celebration #all i know is angst im sorrrryyyyyyy #ned chicane i miss you each and every day #tw death #tw grief

[buntress]

HEHEHEHHEE YES OKAY OKAY SO

danny canonically (well, canon enough, it was a remark from the developers) has npd right. and I have hpd and bpd and they share a lot of symptoms, being cluster b personality disorders and all. so I can proudly say

that man has awful identity issues. he spent so long pretending to be other people for praise, attention and safety that he has no idea who "Danny Johnson" is at all. sometimes he isn't even sure he's actually human. he likely dissociates a lot. he only really thought about it a while after he got taken by the entity, seeing there isnt anything to do outside of trials hes likely been in his own mind most of the time.

he may act buddy-buddy with them as a sort of second nature but he's really insecure with himself and so manifests it as hatred for other killers. (it may also be the 'canon' reason ghostface players tend to be very chill with survivors, despite him being a misanthrope. he feels safer with them because he has the cloak of superiority and being a threat with them which he doesnt have with the killers ykyk) after all he's just an average guy with a knife and knowledge on stalking, hes not overly strong without the entity's help, or tall, or supernatural in any way. to him his "backstory" isnt even bad as any of the other killers, to him at least. (it definitely was, man was literally groomed to be a murderer by his dad. but your trauma never looks as bad as the other people's you know)

also hes FTM and was 3 years on T up until he got taken by the entity (his body time kinda paused after that so he didnt revert to being feminine dw). he still has a set of tits and a coochie because in his words "surgery recovery is a waste of time, it will get suspicious if ghostface goes silent for 6 whole months" :3 he's happy with his body though... mostly. anyway thats the reason he's always hunching during trials. cant wear a binder during a chase thatd be inconvenient (please imagine a ghostface coughing and wheezing and begging the survivors to wait for him now. thank you)

he's still silly, a little clumsy but its one of the things he's less insecure about tbh. an all serious ghostface is not fun and not what wes craven would want.

anyway I need him to get a therapist so bad. bbygirl dw you wont lose your spark the spark in question is you dissociating for hours at a time on your apartment bed having a barbie movie moment like "what was I made for..." therapy will help you babygirl I promi-

THESE ARE ALL SUCH FUCKING GOOD HEADCANONS OKOKOK SO

to share my own while i am at it Teehee (i love him so much)

I def agree on the dissociation and fucked up sense of identity, mans is a messed up lil fuck and def needs to go see an entity ordered therapist. I personally def put Danny on the aro spectrum (i dont think ace personally, aroallo moment imo) though i think more on the demi or greyaro side, and if any of the survivors are ever like, flirty he just stares at them and slowly shakes his head because oh no babygirl one thats a bad idea to try and do and two you are not the person my brain has made an exception for thats for fucking sure

(I'm demiromantic myself so I describe it like that bc im basically aromantic until my brain makes an Exception(tm))

Alsoalsoalso very down for him not being friends with the other killers bc hatred and lowkey jealousy but I think he looks at the legion kids and is like "Cool, I'm your uncle now." because they're the only ones like him at all, just normal dudes even smaller than he is because theyre basically just fucked up teenagers so he feels a slight kinship and he definitely doesn't play favorites at all (this is a lie Suzy is his perfect little baby and he goes full cool uncle mode with her 100% all the time)

Also Also because self shipping noises when/if a survivor or killer (im using survivor mostly bc that's where I see myself self insert wise) does catch his interest in a romantic he genuinely just fucking panics and doesn't know what the fuck to do about it. He fumbles with them a lot and suddenly most of his smooth and cool dude exterior? Gone. Vanished. Fumbling even more than usual and it makes him SO MAD so he just.......threatens them a lot and hooks them a lot because fuck you stop making me feel things i hate you but also please just like hold my hand or something what the fuck

When finally the survivor is like DUDE WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR DAMAGE and blows up on his ass he's like IDK MAN YOU GIVE ME BIG FEELINGS AND I DON'T LIKE IT COULD YOU STOP MAYBE????

anyways when that shits sorted I imagine it being a mutual (healthy) obsession thing where Danny treats his partner like they're the entity incarnate and partner does similar for him and everyone is disgusted by it but at least everytime partner is around in trials he's nice to them so like they can't complain.

If it was a killer though they would become absolute terrors and no one would be safe ever. Skip through the moldy corn fields holding hands kinda shit. Absolute fucking idiots.

(Also at one point he tries to give partner a bouquet of flowers except it was like 4 dandelions and a leaf and he ate one of the dandelions)

Anyways I love Danny Johnson I am kissing him on the mouth

#gif warning #🗡️ :: personal #🗡️ :: asks #sorz for the infodump and answering 6 hours late i was talking to my qpp and being butch4twink

[menalez]

i'm sorry if this is going to be long but i'm honestly a bit at my wits ends here. nearly a week ago, i was hit with the strongest realization in my life that i am prob a homosexual who's severely traumatized by everything that's happened to me and hence why it took me a very long time to come to terms with it. i held onto other labels like my life depended on it and although i used the lesbian label before, it was a couple of years ago and it was only for like a month or so before i doubted myself, freaked out, and went with another label. i thought, okay, that's it, i am done with that mess and can just move on with my life. idk what happened recently, but it was a combination of coming across a post by a straight woman who thought she was bi/les before realizing that being online destroyed her brain and made her think she wasn't attracted to men when she clearly was, and how she realized it finally because she noticed only being sexually aroused easily by men's bodies (like when they are topless at the beach or smth), plus a documentary i saw about gay conversion therapy that featured a gay man talking about how he was desperate to be normal and chased after marriage with a woman "with a vengeance" (a thought process i am very familiar with).... there's other things but i don't want this to get too long or triggering for other ppl so i'll stop here. but just like that, it hit me like a heavy truck that i was only into women this entire time and just hated myself so much. didn't helped that many people in my life, including perfect strangers, telling me that they think i'm actually gay. but then i see posts on yr blog about "so called lesbians coming out later in life are actually just bisexual" and now i'm like.... idk what to believe anymore. i wish i can talk about this with other lesbians about this and just let them all determine what i truly am, because the last thing i want to do is come out and then a man comes into my future and ~change everything~ lmao sounds so stupid when i wrote it like that but yeah. i don't want to hurt lesbians with this, but i also don't have to feel like living a lie anymore or keep trying to "heal: myself because anytime i try to do so, even if it's something as simple as looking at pictures or drawings of a p*nis, i feel so disgusted i want to throw up. i know for a fact that there has never been a moment in my life where i felt that real sexual desire over men or male bodies or anything like that, but all of that gets muddied when other factors have been thrown in due to my life events, if that makes sense. like i'm sorry if this sounds horrible but there is a part of me that hopes i am not a homosexual. i love gay men and lesbians just like anyone else, but i just don't want this to be true. i feel like my life has already been hard for other reasons, and putting this on top of everything else will be too much for me to handle and i'll just end up killing myself over it in the end. i want to live and be happy, but i'm just so conflicted over this topic.

just to clarify, i have never argued that the age in which a lesbian comes out means shes actually bisexual or not. i was complaining explicitly about how many bisexual women will use the label lesbian upon realising their same sex attraction later in life, will talk about having been into men etc but will say theyre lesbians *now*. i take issue with these women because i believe there are genuine lesbians who came out later in life being overshadowed by this phenomenon of bi women leaving their ex-husbands and then claiming to be lesbians bc they decided after 2 decades of dating men that they only want to date women (which is fine, but exclusively wanting to date women and exclusively being into women are overlapping yet different things). i think it harms actually "late bloomer lesbians" bc a lot, that ive seen, using that term are indeed bisexual not lesbians.

that said, i can understand your mindset and where you're coming from. but take it from me, rejecting your sexuality and wishing it away and trying to ignore it and trying to change it etc will simply not work. you may ultimately be wrong, sure, and for that reason i encourage you to take your time thinking over your life and analysing your feelings towards men if necessary, and only when you're sure of it declare what your sexuality is. sure, you may end up wrong somehow regardless, there's no guarantee that despite our certainty that we are the sexuality we believe ourselves to be. but if you push yourself into the closet and deny yourself and reject yourself bc of the off-chance that maybe just maybe you're actually bisexual with such a strong preference for women (despite having no history of being into men nor hints of that attraction to them) isn't going to help you either.

your fear does make sense. i went through similar when i was coming to terms with my sexuality and i absolutely did not want to be a lesbian. the thought of it literally put me into such a terrible state of panic, i would've much preferred to just be bi so that i could potentially have a socially acceptable life in my country. but no wishing and rejecting ourselves will change our sexuality, it'll simply make us more traumatised and unhappy. you seem fairly confident in your feelings to me, don't reject yourself with unlikely What Ifs.. as many other bi women said on this topic, there usually ARE signs of OSA throughout their lives, they just explain it away. if u have never & continue not to feel anything sexual towards male bodies, if u have never had a crush on a man including male celebs, etc then i think ur far more likely than not a lesbian. ignoring that will not change ur sexuality, but its up to u how u move forward with that. i can at least tell u that from my experience, accepting myself for who i am has changed my life positively and gave me a will to live that i was lacking in my life prior. its difficult to face discrimination and lesbophobia, but its even more difficult to still face some of that AND on top of it be rejecting urself and hating urself

[merpthealmighty]

Was writing a connor fic, my bad this is late

Oogly Boogly, @outlandishscenarios !! I was your secret Santa all along mwuhahahah

Happy new year, haha (im very sorry)

Beforehand; they are separate. Oh, and you smuggled them in your home. 

Walmart was a wonderful place. Especially as the holidays were in full swing, and the formidable climb of high quality clothes, it was a haven of cheap thrills and a retreat for both the poor and the wealthy. A cultural center in the whole of America built on an infrastructure meant to appeal to the primitive brain, complete with just the right setup to convince us into purchasing more products- to the advertisements to persuade our subconscious minds. But all this had led to this one pivotal moment. 

You hadn't thought that much of Walmart before the moment you met eyes with the Sun and Moon themed pajamas. You were just going to be in and out that day- collecting some necessities and some not, but something glittery and yellow had caught your eye and something itched inside of you to walk over to it like a magnet. And oh, were you happy about it. 

You had bought the massively oversized pajamas with him specifically in mind. Bright yellow and orange in color- a fuzzy mess of sequins you knew would make an absolute mess of your washing machine; but it was far that worth it to watch him bounce from one leg to the other in surprise and elation at the gift. Just to hear the tinkling lilt of grateful happiness spilling from his voice box was a gift enough. You had known him long enough to know the differences in pitch he held in his voice- there was a clear change from real happiness, and the happiness he was programmed to portray.

“Oh, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you Y/N!” His long arms cocooned around your midriff tightly, swinging you around in dizzying circles. You wished you could get out the few syllables needed to respond in affirmative- if food didn't threaten to chase your words. 

Moon was more moody, to keep it in one word. He enjoyed the things he was related to- the moon and stars and galaxy. He would idly chatter about how he admired the constellations that glittered in the sky, so firmly put in their respective spaces for generations on end, yet strung in one of the most empty and inhabitable places we know.

He enjoyed lounging in a pair of simple gray sweatpants, paired with an untucked and oversized black tee with painted splatters across it with soft airbrushing of cool toned colors to simulate the look of a pulsing galaxy. He didn't accept the gift with the same excitement as Sun did- but instead disappeared behind a corner quietly as Sun was given his comfy clothes, and in a haste put it on, stepping back into the conversation with the clothes situated neatly on his body like nothing happened at all. It was his own way of saying 'Thank you'. 

“It’s snowing pretty hard outside.” He remarked, reassuming his seat on the couch bordering the window of your living room, with the utmost casualty. Edgy boy. 

 It was a goal far beforehand- from the very first time you found out who the daycare attendants really were behind all the paint and glitter glue and angst, to bring as much light to their life as they would allow you. Seeing firsthand how deeply they could not only feel- but scar- made you want to shower them with as much love and compassion as you possibly could. 

Naturally, you smuggle two lanky animatronics out of their respective positions, and into your home. You had backup, of course. As long as you did not damage the animatronics or take them permanently, the software and repair manager, (who, frankly, might be some kind of drug dealer) gave you the green light. 

Much to your delight, you discovered each one of their interests one by one. 

Moon enjoyed scrapbooking. Just doing little things with his hands- gluing bits of paper together and the satisfying intricacies of stationary and ink. He enjoyed finding little pretty things, whether it be petite flowers pressed between the pages of a book for a long while- or the jumbled clippings of magazines he collected here and there. Oddly enough- you hadn't caught him accumulating most of the things he scrapbooked, they just… appeared. But the way his red eyes flickered thoughtfully as he placed pictures and film- slick with glue, carefully onto pages. Almost like he was a surgeon, he treated scrapbooking with frightening accuracy. 

Sun, on the other hand, liked plants and flowers. The daycare had no windows, so your little modest house tucked away in a quiet neighborhood was one of the best places he could have been taken. You had purchased a few brightly-colored perennials from the local market earlier on in the year, and helped him plant them in the backyard during the summer. 

Summer had since then come and gone, leaving nothing but blankets of snow and shorter days with a reliant chill. It was a wonderful season in terms of snuggling and warm drinks and anything related to affection and warmth, but snowstorms proved to be a great opponent in your quest to cater to your lanky robot boys. Just one nasty storm could knock down your dainty power grid, and ruin all your plans for the day. But Zeus be damned, you'd make the best out of any situation. 

Is what you said in your head, but when your light did dim out while your freshly brewed coffee that just began to trickle out of the espresso machine to come to an abrupt halt; you didn't have a damn of what to do. 

Zues probably heard you. 

A barrage of desperately muffled curses(in order to not trigger sun) jumped freely from your mouth as both the daycare animatronics looked inquisitively at all the lights and lamps now suddenly dark in your living room.

“Hm. But the lights were just all on? Do you also have to shut the lights off to conserve energy?” Sun questioned with a tilt to his head, as you were able to see the red glowing of Moon’s eyes behind him, partially closed and exhausted. He didn't bother to say much, just a low vibrato of a sigh, of irritation or just robot fatigue, you weren't sure. 

“Good God! I really can't have anything, can I? Ha, of course the fuckin-”

“Language, sunshine.”

“FREAKING!” Instantaneously, you corrected yourself. It had been so long dealing with these boys that things like Sundrop’s censorship was almost expected every time you let out a swear. 

“-Power would go out. How wonderful.” Blindly, you felt yourself tumble through your house to try and find the flashlight you knew you had in a drawer in your credenza, but doing anything frustrated will only turn out to be a hot mess with you. 

“Where IS that flashlight?!” Your fingers and arms spread stiffly in front of you to navigate your own house; but you felt a lurch in your stomach as you ankle caught the leg of a couch or a table or a chair- a fall so sudden no noise could escape you- just blown eyes wide in desperation to see and avoid any possible threat. But there was nothing. Just darkness. 

But Moon was oh, so familiar with the dark. 

He hugged the part of you that was closest to where he was seated, hand snaking around your waist and rib cage, much like the supportive arm a parent would thrust out in case of a sudden brake while driving. 

When you look behind you back to where his face is- the half-mast look in his eyes was no longer there. Red LEDs were wide and alert, this time around.

He sighed- but it sounded far more similar to a growl in his voice box “Be careful.” His faceplate was dipped slightly into the crook of your neck- as she had to pull your body towards his slightly heavier body to negate the force of the fall. “And slow down. Stop panicking.” You huffed a laugh, not really humorous at all, and clutched his hand that rested firmly on your stomach. 

“Thanks… ‘preciate it, Moonie.” 

He only replies with another grunt, Though this one a little softer. 

“Jus’ tell me where it's at. I'll get it.” 

You felt a tinge flustered, only able to watch his eyes wander down the hallway as you gave vague directions towards where you thought the nearest flashlight was, and when you finally did, his cool metal hand cupped the bottom of yours; his other hand placing the small bit of plastic in your hand. 

“M’ sitting back down.” His regards were sent through a slight wave of his hand as he wandered back towards the couch. If he wasn't so close, you'd have been beside yourself in embarrassment. 

“Robot boys and their subtle little acts of affection…” You stood and fiddled with the strap attached to the flashlight until the tingling heat subsided from your cheeks. 

You flicked the light into the on position, finally lighting ip your carpeted floor. A few ideas of the priorities rooted in your mind as you made your way to the kitchen once again. 

Sticking the flashlight in your teeth and rooting through overhead cabinets in your kitchen, you yanked out a coffee percolator from the very back of the shelving. It was heavy and old, something you probably pulled from a thrift or antique shop out of pure curiosity. Couldn't have cost much. Brushing away a mile of dust from it and blindly grabbing a bag of ground coffee- you prepared it as you could faintly remember. Coffee in the little basket-looking thing- water in the bigger container. 

Flicking a match to light and twisting the knob to your oven, you lit a front eye on fire. Placing the percolator over the oven, you finally spit the flashlight from in between your teeth out and waited for what seemed like an adequate amount of time for the coffee to accumulate. 

"Sunshine?" Slightly high-pitched and kindly, Sun's voice perked up behind you.

"What'cha doing?" Out of the corner of you eye, you dimly saw the outline of a hand rested on the countertop next to your hip. He was right behind you. 

"I'm making coffee on the stove since the powers out." You responded simply, placing the light back in your mouth. 

"Well, I can do that, sunshine." He tugged lightly at the dangling strap, looking at you with slightly less bright LED eyes as Moons, watching as it fell from your lips. 

"How sweet of you!" You traded him an equally soft smile, as his rays spun a little in recognition of the praise.

Your blind grab for mugs resulted in a few mis-matched ones, different in size and color but fine enough for your purposes. The dark and rich liquid spilled from the nozzle into each cup, and you fixed them how you thought they each would like it. Sun’s- milky and overly sweet, closer to creamer than actual coffee you’d assume. And moons, pitch black with only a tad of sugar. 

You felt a little bad that they couldn't drink any of it per se, but Sun explained how he liked the way the steam came out of the mug. Moon just enjoyed the feeling of being included. And with his help, you located your hoard of wool blankets in the linen closet to wrap you all in comfortably finding a few scented candles you had never bothered to use and lit them for the dim lighting.

You found a dimpled spot on your couch a little next to Moondrop, and spread the blanket over the length of your arm to cover you both. Sunny boy followed keenly behind, holding his own blanked and finding a nook at the other side of you to properly get comfortable in. All three of you were tied together mostly by one blanket, but with the knots of throws and piled if pillows, one couldn't really tell. 

You noticed moon was decently cool to the touch. Like the hand that had caressed you earlier, the metal connecting his limbs were smooth and cold. Not a wet cold that made you shiver, but beneath the heat of the blankets, all you wanted to do was lean closer to him. Like the cooler side of the pillow on a summer night. 

But Sundrop was a whole different animal. You thirsted after every drink of warmth he produced. Sun’s fans were like white noise, rested against his chest, a more sustained and softer version of rainfall. Of course he had silicone padding for the safety of the kids- but an extra warm body? Fans whirring inside of him like the gentlest of air conditioners? 

You had to fight the sand underneath your eyes to stay in the moment.

But you stayed sandwiched, peppering little kisses on their faceplate every so often, and drawing little reassuring shapes on whatever you could reach with the soft pads of your fingers. Goodness, with the candles and the warmth you were encased in, you weren't sure how long you were going to last. You might as well leave with something, you thought, before you conked out cold on both of them. 

Sundrops soft eyes with a graceful light spilling from them.

And Moon with his red, passionate half mast gaze.

"You're both so pretty." You tucked yourself further into the blanket, sleep fogging your brain intensely with the certainty of death. 

What was there ever really to worry about?

 You fell asleep without an answer.

Ew! I hate it. This is my first time writing fluff, actually haha. Horror and smut are more down my alley, but it was really interesting to try to write something new. Genuinely apologizing to @outlandishsenarios. Happy Christma-Hannu-Kwanza-nothingatall! 

Just now kinda realizing I focused on moon alot. Welp! Its here now

#DCASS #dcass2022 #ofc i didnt stay up to write this #lol #the writer has a perfecly good sleeping schedule #with ideal time management skills #sorry 4 spelling mistakes #was half asleep writing this #not sure if im awake or not writing this #goodnight

[parallelplastic]

Omg I love your writing! It’s so unique!

For the Donnie sex chair thing, did Kendra hack into his equipment?

Thank you kindly for the compliment. It made me incredibly happy to read. And a wonderful speculation!

Here is a gift you for, my depraved friend

Nsft below

Cw: donnie/his own invention, noncon, toys, aphrodisiacs, bondage, degredation

Parts 1 and 2 can be found on my blog

He wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. The beds of his nails hurt from how roughly he'd been digging them into the arms of the chair he was currently strapped onto. And yet he craved more.

"Feels must be what insanity feels like" he thought, sitting in a puddle of his own cum from how long he'd been left like this. He whimpered when his leg twitched and rubbed into the slick that had been dripping off the chairs seat and to the floor. And it had no end in sight.

He gasped sharply, eyes rolling back as the dildo forced its way in as far as possible, only to release more of that addicting drug into him. He trembled where he sat, unable to catch his breath as sparks ruined his brain. He was left with no thoughts left to think, an empty version of himself as his brain waited out. For a moment, there was only the intense pleasure and the tight clenching he did over the dildo.

He fought desperately to catch his breath again, whimpering through his next orgasm as he squirted again into his own lap. The drug must be helping his refractory period, as he still hadn't come close to cumming dry yet. He felt the heat from the drug conquer his entire body. Leaving with this terrible amazing disgusting addicting life changing need for more. More. More.

The dildo stopped.

For a moment, Donnie didn't process what happened. He was still awaiting the mind numbing pleasure he'd been tormented with for what must have been hours. Without thinking, he continued shaking his hips, thrusting the dildo into himself to chase the need he'd been forced to feel.

"Geez, didn't realize you were this much of a depraved whore."

It was only when he'd heard her voice that reality suddenly snapped back to him. He shuddered, ceasing all movements, simply dropping back down limply onto the dildo plugging up all the drug deep inside of him.

How...how long had the chair been off? How long had Donnie been pleasuring himself ?

How long had Kendra been watching?

She was on the computer monitor in front of him now, smirking with that terribly cocky ego she still had even years later.

"Do you like the modifications I made, Von Ryan?" Her eyes glanced down towards the mess he'd made on the floor "it sure looks like you do"

"...fu-fuck you...." Donnie could barely get his tongue to move, his skin was practically buzzing with sensitivity. Even now, he twitched and clenched and throbbed over the dildo, desperate for more. And more. He wished he could at the very least wipe the drool off his chin, just to save a little face.

"Not yet! Be patient, would ya? First, I want to see how far I can push you..."

#nsft #tmnt #donatello #kendra #rottmnt #what should happen next! sound off in the ask box or replies

[worldscollidinginone]

Chapter 3 - The Aftermath

Go to master list

The next day I woke up with a ridiculously painful headache. It felt like my eyes were glued shut. The smell was revolting. I also realised that I was not in my bedroom. Because my alarm would have chewed my brain by now, and it's not happening right now, which is a blessing, otherwise I would have thrown that alarm on the wall. 

Another important thing that I forgot to mention is that I was naked. A very important note is when I mean naked, I mean there is only the cover on top of me and there was no trace of the clothes that I wore the night earlier. 

At that moment, Kiara comes in with some food, some aspirin, and a glass of water. 

"Good morning Piya." 

"Morning. Main yahaan kaise pauch gayi? As far as I remember, I don't think I had sex last night, did I? And did the guy disappear before I could ask questions?" 

Kiara started giggling like a small, little girl. I saw a glimpse of her. 

"You are in my guest room. And the reason why you are naked is that you vomited quite a few times in the club, and you were crying so we decided to take you to your apartment, your home. But when we reached there, there was no one. So, instead, you are here. And your clothes are getting washed because they stank like shit." 

"Oh." 

"Here. I have made some breakfast for you. Then I can go into your apartment, get you some clothes and we can head off to work together." 

"Did I do something stupid?" The only fear that I had, was to get pregnant by a stranger. 

"No. Don't worry." 

"Ehm... Piya? Can I ask you a question?" 

"Sure. Go ahead." 

"You were crying last night. What happened?" 

I was trying to be calm, but all the images in my mind were making me crazy, so I snapped. 

"Nothing that should interest you, Kaira!" 

I lost my cool at that point. I didn't want to, but he was making my life very hard, without being a part of it. 

"Look I am sorry. I don't want to talk about it. Is that okay?" 

"It's chill." 

"It's what, sorry?" 

"It's okay, Piya. I didn't realise you were this old." 

"What nonsense is this? Just because I don't understand one word that you said, it does not mean that I am old, okay." 

This new language of acronyms and weird words will get me in big trouble. I hardly understand what they say. Can't you speak in a language that I can understand? No, make my life even harder than it already is. Oh my god, I was supposed to fly back to New York last night! Nick is not going to be happy about this. 

"Come on, get ready! We have to go to work!! We cannot be late." 

"Actually, I need to make a call. Can I have my phone back?" 

"Sure." 

As soon as I got my phone, I called Nick up. 

"Hey Nick, how are you, buddy?" 

"Buddy, my foot Riya! You told me that you were coming back last night!! I haven't slept all night because of you. Maria was telling me how much she misses spending time with you. Chase was missing you as well. He thought you were going to play with him." 

"Yeah, I know Nick. I am so sorry. I know Maria is going to be really pissed at me, which is not wrong on her part. But I will make sure to make it up to you. But I am not coming back, at least not now." 

"Fine. Just make sure that you actually turn up at the airport, and I won't be upset." 

"Okay." 

"Is he around?" 

"Who?" 

"Him." 

"No." 

"Well, I hope he turns up in your life. Because you are a mess." 

"I know. Anyway, I am sorry for troubling you. I'll call you later." 

"Yeah, sure. I'd like that." 

I know Nick. I know. I hope so too.

Go back to Chapter 2

Go to Chapter 4

#writing prompts #writeblr #writing #dear zindagi #aliabhatt #alia bhatt #shahrukh khan #shah rukh khan #shah #hope entertainment #red chillies entertainment #dharma productions #mentalheathawareness #mental health #daily life

[death-in-shift]

Nyctophobia - Short Story

A/N: I've been procrastinating on this short story for months and now I'm finally writing it. I also couldn't think of how the story should go until I thought of writing prompts and ideas. Like I mean I was picking at my own brain. But anyways, please enjoy!

“Get back here, you poor excuse of an angel!” The Queen, Angelina, yelled at her son as she chased him down the halls of the manor.

“I’m sick of you! I have done everything for you and Celeste but you guys are so ungrateful!”

Omarion felt like he was going to drop. His legs felt like jelly and he was out of breath; but he can’t stop running now. He didn’t want to go back into the dark closet again. Worse case, in a room with no source of light. For every mistake he’s made, he gets sent in there. There were times he was forced into the room or closet even if he didn’t do anything.

Looking behind him was a mistake…

He saw one of Angelina’s true angel forms, like the ones that would be seen in the final boss fights of a video game.

The poor angel tripped and curled up. Fear coursed through him faster than the adrenaline, his heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Angelina stalked towards Omarion, stretching her long arms towards him, soon dragging him into a dark abyss. He kicked and screamed with all his might until he completely submerged into the darkness.

.

.

.

Omarion woke up while covered in sweat. His breathing was quick and he patted himself frantically, checking to see if it was all a dream… Well, nightmare. Once he realized he was in his new home, his mind was put at ease.

‘Fuck… That was too real.’ He thought to himself as he pushed the covers off. ‘I really thought I was back in that manor.’

The demonic bee floated into the kitchen to pour himself a cold glass of water. His mind was still distracted by the nightmare he had. It still baffled him that he and his twin were finally free; that they were both living off-grid and starting a new chapter of their life. Luckily, the rest of their siblings, father, and step-mother only know where the twins are now. If only they were treated with unconditional love and respect, this all wouldn’t happen.

A stream of cold water hit his feet, making him snap out of his thoughts. The feeling of wet socks is a cringe worthy yet a disgusting feeling that’s worse than a shower curtain sticking onto the skin. Omarion mentally scolded himself as he grabbed some napkins to clean up.

After he was finished, he took the glass water and floated around the underground place. As much as he wanted to not think of the painful memories, he couldn’t help his mind wandering off into them. He remembered the little orbs of memories Jae recently unpacked within the extra room. They called it the Salle De Mémoire. The demon eyed the direction of the house, contemplating on going in. On one hand, he wasn’t restricted from going in there. On the other, it’s a risk for him since he’s still spooked. But after a careful thought, he shrugged off and flew in.

Maybe exposing himself to the memories may completely numb him from the nightmare.

Omarion made his way to the first orb on the very left side. It held memories of both twins when they were young angels. They seemed happy, carefree, and even full of life. He smiled at the times he saw himself and Jae giggle, floating around the lively yard within the manor.

‘Maia was there.. She was having fun too..’

He felt a small tug in his heart. Watching his big sister having fun yet constantly reminding the twins to be careful made him miss her dearly. He was always told to be careful of himself and others. 

He moved onto the next orb, seeing the memories of when he lived with his father. The demonic father was known to be cold yet calculating. No, he was not a murderer, but he was definitely not the one to mess with. Once he got back with his ex-wife, all of the Michaelis siblings were happy. It was those ‘right person, wrong time’ moments. The father may not be an empathetic or emotional demon but he still held a special place in his heart for his wife and children. The family would spend time together, living happily as their authentic selves, and being there for one another. 

This is something both of the wanted; to be loved unconditionally.

‘Dad was always a cold demon. He had a cold heart, but he still kept it warm for us, even for his new wife. I wish Jae and I can see him again..’

While Omarion was distracted by the memory orbs, Jae appeared in the room, hanging upside down from their web. Their eyes turned orange as they observed their older twin’s body language and emotional state. The twin telepathy they possessed brought the same emotions Omarion felt except they were able to tolerate it.

“Why are you up so late?”

“AAHHH-!” The older twin became startled, he then faced the younger twin. He placed a hand over his heart and proceeded to answer. “I had a nightmare.”

“About what?”

“About the manor... It felt so real I thought I was brought back there. I mean- I know they can’t find us right now but still!”

Jae slightly frowned. They crawled off of their web and approached him, carefully bringing him to his feet. They hesitantly wrapped him in a warm, comforting embrace, gently patting his back. The second Omarion was pulled into the embrace, he let his tears fall. He immediately hugged them a bit too tight and hid his face in their shoulder. The younger twin didn’t care about the tight hug or the tears staining their shirt, they cared more about his well-being.

A few minutes passed by and Jae was the first to pull away.

“You’ll be ok, believe me.” They weren’t sure how to offer comfort, but they did their best. “We escaped the family and that’s what matters. We have our own freedom now.”

Omarion looked at his twin with a teary-eyed look.

“But the bounties… I don’t want to lose you too…”

“That’s why I train with you every day. You changed into your demon form and I’m helping you discover your powers. I know I can be strict, but if you’re not better than me, then I failed you. You need to be able to defend yourself if I’m not there. But trust me, I will be there to help you, even if I die trying.”

The honey bee demon’s lip trembled, he wanted to speak but his words balled up in his throat. He gently leaned his head on Jae’s shoulder once more. 

Jae understood that he’s still suffering from the ongoing nightmares.. How restless their twin was. It started to affect him through his daily life. All they can do is to be there for him and help him overcome this stage.

.

.

.

#death in shift #oc #omar michaelis #tw mentions of omar's trauma

[becca-e-barnes]

so uhhh i need more(i think we alllll do) of bucky cumming in his sleep because of the build up. it gets me so hot i just- omg anywayssss

so no pressure, but a thought kinda popped into my mind. maybe reader is buck’s roommate or maybe they share a floor in the tower together(your choice obviously), but reader hears him one night & decides to go check up on him & what she finds is NOT what she expected. he’s soaked in his cum & his body is just glistening with a sheen of sweat. he’s moaning & groaning, gripping onto the pillow his head is on with one hand as he ruts into the bunched up comforter beside him. reader instantly gets horny(of course she does, like who wouldn’t?) but she decides to wake him up.

when she does, he’s fucking embarrassed….& he’s a mess- rambling about how sorry he is that he woke her up. but she just wants to help him because now she’s fucking turned on & cannot sleep with that image of him sewn into her brain.

if you end up doing this/writing something to this, you can decide on how she helps him. i know whatever you come up with will be DEVINE & will make us ALL horny. so i’ll leave you with this🥰

No I swear, this is my favourite thought in the world right now, I can’t stop thinking about it holy shit 🥵 Minors, do not interact

Like even just living on the same floor of the tower as Bucky and one night you’re walking past his room and you hear whimpers and pained groans coming from inside.

You know he’s troubled. You know nighttime is tough on him and you know that if you were having a rough night, he would be straight in to help you so you don’t even think twice about cracking the door open and peeking inside

But this wasn’t the kind of rough night you were expecting at all

No, instead, Bucky’s writhing on the bed totally naked, abs tight, groans strained. His flesh hand is squeezing the pillow beneath his head but his bare chest and abdomen are just dripping cum. It’s everywhere, rolling down his sides onto the perfect white sheets beneath him. His cock is still spurting endlessly, twitching as it pumps thick rivers of fluid from his aching tip, over his own naked body. His face is screwed up in pleasure and it’s absolutely the sexiest sight you’ve ever come across in you life.

But he’s asleep. And not even touching himself.

His hair is stuck to his sweaty forehead and you’re surprised his own grunts haven’t woken him, his hips bucking wildly off the bed as the orgasm finally subsides.

But his face doesn’t relax. While the steady stream of cum has eased, his dick hasn’t softened at all, his balls still painfully full. His metal hand had been fisted up in the duvet and before you know it, he’s rolled over onto his side, bundling the duvet up and humping it, slowly at first.

He can’t stifle his need, the pool of cum now spilling all over the clean duvet cover as he grinds shamelessly against the sheet. His moans are so sweet, dripping with desperation and longing. His hips rut even faster than you could’ve thought possible, chasing another high. After a moment, he reaches it with a little shout, presumably pumping another thick, excessive load of cum into the duvet.

The huge man is a wreck, still fucking the comforter, despite the fact you just saw him finish twice (and who knows how many times before you entered the room).

“Mhm fuck, ‘s good.” His eyes are screwed shut, sheer bliss on his face while he tries to drag himself closer to another release but you can’t let him. He can’t spill any more into the duvet. It’s not fair and it absolutely can’t be giving him the relief he needs. You want to help him and before you can even consider the implications it would have on your friendship, you’ve reached out, touching his back and calling his name to drag him from his sleep.

He looks so startled when he wakes up, rolling over and seeing your face, wondering if he’s still dreaming because he can’t ever admit it to you, but it was a dream about you that got him into this state.

But then he registers the shape he’s in. Naked, lying in a bed that’s flooded with his own cum. How long had you been there? Had he accidentally called your name? His only priority is to cover himself, hiding his shame and the fact he feels absolutely disgusting. He can’t even look at you, he’s so caught up in his own self hatred.

But you whisper his name and he drags his eyes up to yours and your face is so so soft. You’re not disgusted by him. You’re not embarrassed or ashamed like he is.

“I’m so sorry you had to, um…. I haven’t had a night this bad in weeks. Shit, I’m sorry.” His guilt is palpable but you stop him in his tracks.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about Bucky. It’s healthy, you need it and I’m happy to help. Any way I can.” He’s beyond shocked at your suggestion, your hand on his bare skin making him burn up.

“You can’t help me.” He whispers quietly. “The only way to make the ache stop is to cum until I can’t anymore.”

“That’s okay Bucky. If you’d like, I’ll help you take the ache away.” He can hardly believe his own ears, his cock almost answering for his brain. He’s wanted you for so long and now you’ve seen him like this and you’re making it clear that you want him too, despite what you’ve seen.

“Please. Only if you’re okay with it.” He’s nodding ever so slightly, but god, it takes everything in him not to cum again when you pull the sticky comforter back and take your little pyjamas off to straddle his throbbing length.

The moan that leaves his throat when you press your lips together is the sweetest you’ve heard yet, low and hoarse, showing just how badly he needs this.

You can’t tease him either. Neither of you need any foreplay whatsoever so why drag it out? You slide down on him with ease, a cry leaving him when he feels his oversensitive head rub against your velvety walls and he couldn’t even have dreamed you’d feel this good.

“O-oh, please tell me you’re on birth control.” He’s literally about to cum from this one smooth glide, his sweaty head buried in the crook of your neck.

“I am Bucky don’t worry. Can fill me as many times as you like.” It only takes two little rolls of your hips for him to explode with a whimper, his seed leaking from you, mingling with the mess already coating both of your bodies.

“G-god there’s so much cum. Fuck, you’re full already.” He flips you over onto your back to give you the slowest, sweetest thrusts. He does his very best to make sure that you cum as many times as he does after that and a few hours later when his cock finally softens, you have a tender shower together to clean each other up before both of you head up the hall to your room to sleep on some fresh sheets.

The rest of this: Part 1, Part 2

#asks answered <3 #multi-stann #needy!bucky #sub!bucky #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x reader #I LOVE THIS WHOLE IDEA ITS SO SEGGSY #PLEASEEEE #I don’t want to stop talking about it omg #becca’s blurbs

[merakiui]

A Leaf Swept up in an Autumnal Breeze

yandere!kaedehara kazuha x (gender neutral) reader art credit - Tourou_7 on twt cw: yandere, unhealthy/obsessive behaviors, slight nsfw implications/thoughts, alcohol consumption, intoxication, spoilers for kazuha’s character story + inazuma lore note - i decided to write something short for kazuha as i analyze what we know so far of his character. hopefully the characterization isn’t too off! please enjoy nonetheless! orz

The moonlight casts its thin rays upon the calm, motionless sea. In the distance, fish surface and their movements are captured in the ripples that expand in the water, a minor blip in the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the dark night. As if a god has taken a brush to the sky, utilizing its inky vastness as a canvas, the stars have been drawn in small specks—winking down at those who sleep underneath a blanket of natural light.

And you are caught up in the glorious shimmer, grinning widely as Beidou wraps her arm around you, pulling you against her as if the two of you have known each other for years. In reality, it’s only been a few months since you were discovered on her ship: a hidden stowaway with your Vision clutched in your hands and raw resolve etched into your body in the form of bruises and old scars. You’re a fighter and yet you also ran from something. Kazuha can’t quite tell what it is you’ve escaped. Whether it’s another person, a group of people, or even an entire nation, he’s certain it’s worthy of the risks that come with fleeing.

Your Vision shines brightly, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of your clothes. He tries to place a nation to your outfit and comes up empty, his thoughts returning to Inazuma as though it’s the only place he can think of. And he supposes that’s true. The situation in Inazuma has clouded his mind with its strange fog, taking up residence in the nooks and crannies of his brain. Though he can dwell upon the past and the mistakes that led up to the downfall of a precious friend, he knows there is no use for such somber reflections during a happy celebration. Life moves on, as the common saying goes, and he cannot allow himself to remain trapped in the past.

During moments such as these, where he relives the horrible memory in vivid detail, you are a sweet balm that soothes the sting of loss. Even when you’re struggling to stand, face hot from the intoxication of good drinks in even better company, you’re a wondrous presence who chases away his doubts and worries.

Unknowingly, you cast a temporary shroud over those matters and he’s put at ease the minute you extend your arm in his direction.

“Kazuha! Come over here. Let’s dance!”

A hiccup interrupts your jovial giggle and Beidou chuckles before throwing her head back to drink what’s left in her flask. The aura of her ship is beyond lively. Men and women alike celebrate another successful week with drinks, harrowing tales of past heroes, and broken ballads sang in drunken tones. He can’t help the smile that sprouts on his lips. You’re such an outgoing person, always wanting to include him in your daily activities. And though he politely declines whenever you offer him alcohol, he has wondered what the appeal could possibly be.

Perhaps it’s the idea of losing your sensibility for one night, ignoring all reason for the sake of spending pleasurable moments in the confines of a warm bed, wrapped snugly in a lover’s embrace. Such instances are lost to intoxicating pleasure—buried under a hazy recollection come morning. But you haven’t done that sort of thing. Kazuha would know. He listens in while you’re relaxing—while you’re bathing and going about life on the ship without a care in the world—and his head runs wild with all sorts of fantasies. Fantasies he never would have imagined had he not met you.

To think you were just a mere stowaway, a trespasser who had snuck onto the ship and hid in the darkest corner, obscured by crates and chests. And he had pulled those crates aside in search of a few ingredients and his eyes met yours and you held your finger to your lips—a silent urge to keep quiet—and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a special meeting between two, which will remain locked away in his heart for all of eternity. A memory he regards with warm fondness. After much negotiation and a disarming conversation, you were soon welcomed with open arms as Beidou practically offered you to join her crew. You had nowhere else to go—no one else to see or protect—and so you agreed. And Kazuha felt a relief he hasn’t felt in a while, the sort of emotion that stems from almost losing something important.

The pure relief that comes and goes once he realizes you’re a missing piece in the puzzle of his life.

“You’ll trip,” he warns, pushing off from the side of the ship and walking over to you and Beidou. “It wouldn’t be wise to dance in your inebriated state. Surely you’re aware of this, no?”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Your wavering glare doesn’t reach him. “Don’t... Don’t think otherwise or else I’ll—ah!”

The majority of Beidou’s weight burdens your shoulders and you nearly almost crumble.

“You—“ she searches for a means to steady herself— “worry too much,” the captain adds, nodding in agreement to an unspoken statement. “It’ll be okay! Live a little while you’re still young.”

Kazuha sighs and easily slips between the two of you, hooking his arm around Beidou’s waist as he guides her to a barrel. The scent of alcohol kisses the air, clinging to your clothes and breath like an oversaturated perfume. Once she’s sat down, now fully determined to get the last few drops from out of the flask, the rōnin turns to you. He’s caught by surprise when your hands grasp his, your eager expression stabbing his heart with a dozen pins. He’s rooted to the floorboards, unable to look away when your face is dangerously close to his.

“You heard the captain,” you tease in a slurred voice. “Live a little.”

And he does. Or he thinks he does. Having traveled with Beidou, this is the current life he’s come to know and appreciate. But is it truly living if he feels unfulfilled in the process? To find a means for bringing back the familiar glow in a lonely Vision. To secure peace of mind and put his rowdy thoughts to rest. To one day return to the nation he was forced to flee, with you in tow. Are all of these things necessary in order to fill the gaping void in his damaged heart? Kazuha wonders if you also came from Inazuma. Perhaps you wouldn’t be so surprised to see the scenery if he were to take you there. Not now, of course. Sometime in the future, if such a future holds a changed Inazuma.

“I’m going to warn you now,” he mumbles, his fingers ghosting over your waist, “I’m not what one would call a dancer of skillful grace.”

“I don’t think that’s true, dear Kazuha.”

He blinks once and then releases a short laugh at the endearing term. “If you say so.”

“Enough talk.” You huff and pull him into your chest and he feels as though he could stay locked in this position for millennia. “Dance with me before...” A stilted pause as you nearly forget your sentence. “Before I turn in for the night. That’s it.”

Or before you get sick, he thinks, not so cheerful about the inevitable mess. But he’ll tolerate it because you’ve tolerated him. You never pry into his past, nor do you force him to answer personal questions regarding Inazuma and the Raiden Shogun. If you ever notice the way he lingers near your quarters, you don’t say a word. And if you hear his subdued moans as his hand moves in time with a picturesque fantasy of your nude form pressed against his, you keep your mouth shut. You are everything he could ever want and like the very ideal the Raiden Shogun wishes to uphold he wants to pursue an eternity with you.

Your movements are far from the precision you normally have when moving about the ship and it’s a very odd dance. Yet you spin him and he follows your unusual lead like an animal with tunnel vision. For a taut moment, the background noise melts away into obscurity and the two of you are the only people in existence. He stares at your face the entire time, ignoring the way your sandals crush his feet or the instances where he unintentionally returns the gesture. It’s certainly an awkward sort of waltz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And in this moment where no one else matters, he sees your radiance in the glow of the moon. You truly are worthy of the sun and the stars beyond and should you verbalize an outlandish wish of that nature he has no choice but to follow through.

Like a leaf swept up in an autumnal breeze, reminiscent of a ronin who lacks a place in the world, Kazuha allows himself to be carried on by the winds that rustle the sails and tangle through your hair, painting you in a backdrop that’s heaven handcrafted by the pickiest god. And where you have your wits, a lively Vision, and your confidence, he only has his blade, a dull Vision, and an inkling of hope. But that’s really all he requires.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere kaedehara kazuha #yandere kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha

[sinner-as-saint]

Just A Little Too Much.

(Dark) Mob!Steve Rogers x Innocent!Reader AU

Run-through: You met Steve after your parents got divorced. He was your mom’s ‘special friend’, and you soon began living at his place, along with your mom. You were just 18 and a half then, and Steve became the only man you looked up to after you learnt that your father was sent to prison for unknown reasons. Soon, Steve became the only family you had after your mother started going away on even more trips for work, then came the time where she stopped coming home altogether. But that was alright, because you had Steve. You were his Princess, and he often told you that you needed no one else but him. He would do anything for you, he loved you - perhaps just a little too much. 

Themes: innocent!reader, manipulation, dark!steve, smut, fluff

You woke up from your nap with a faint smile on, feeling a pair of lips leaving soft, warm kisses all over your cheek. 

Steve. 

You immediately felt so warm just knowing he was here; his powerful scent wrapping around you, making you feel safe. 

“Wake up, Princess.” He murmured. “It’s your birthday, you can’t be napping.” He said it like it was the most ridiculous thing one could do. 

You heard Steve’s voice, and felt his beard trail after his lips all over your face. You opened your eyes, giggling and realizing that you had fallen asleep on the couch in your bedroom. You looked up to find Steve above you, his strong arm placed on the back of the couch as he bent over slightly to look down at you with his pretty blue eyes. He was dressed in one of his many expensive, well-tailored suits which gave away that he had just finished some call or video conference regarding work. 

“Hi Stevie.” 

His soft gaze roamed your body. “Hi Princess. Come on wake up, you don’t wanna sleep all day.” 

You smiled up at him. “Yes I do.” You said, making him raise his eyebrows at you; smirking. “It’s my birthday, I can nap all day if I want to.” You did make a fair point, he had to admit. 

His smirk morphed into a gentle, calming smile as he reached out to caress your cheek softly. “But I miss you.” 

You shrugged, lazily. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.” 

His lips parted in fake surprise. “Is that so?” 

The moment you saw his hands reaching out towards you, you knew he was planning to tickle you till you ran out of breath and begged him to stop. So you shot up and slipped from his grasp, running away as fast as you could; giggling uncontrollably. 

Steve chased you, chuckling each time you escaped his grasp. “Come here, Princess. You can’t run from me, you know that.” He chased you around the room, watched you as you jumped over the coffee table, the pouf and just as you were about to run into the walk-in closet Steve managed to grab your hand and tackled you down on the bed. 

He had you trapped, giggling and squirming under him. He was a happy man as he looked down at you, pinning your wrists down on the bed above your head, his face so close to yours that he was certain you and him were sharing the same breath. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

You eventually stopped fighting and squirming. You looked up at him and smiled as big as you could. You stared up at him and saw the man who was your everything. 

Steve was your everything. Your family was… absent. Steve said none of them cared about you as much as he did. Steve also said that your father was not a good man, and that’s why he was locked up in jail. You never asked why, or what he did to deserve such punishment, but Steve said that it wasn’t important for you to know so you let it go. Your mom was not here either, she was always out of the country, working. Steve said your mom made work her priority over you, but that was okay too because you had Steve. And he was all you need. 

Steve looked down at you, admiring how pretty his Princess was. When he first saw you around four years ago, he knew he had to protect you forever. You were too precious, too innocent for this world. He couldn’t just stand there and watch this world corrupt you in any way, so he kept you close. He did what he had to in order to keep you under his roof and protection all the time. He made sure you’d never have to worry about anything, ever. 

“Hi Princess.” He murmured again, still on top of you. You gave him a smile which always melted his heart ever since day one. You owned him, and you probably had no idea about all the things he was willing to do for you. 

“Hi Stevie.” To you, he had always been Stevie - your best friend, your family, your protector - your everything. You don’t know where everyone went, or why everyone gradually disappeared from your life once you met Steve. But you had him, and he was all you needed. 

“Happy Birthday.” He whispered, wishing you for the fifth time since this morning when you woke up in his arms. Steve leaned down to kiss the side of your mouth. 

You relished his touch. Steve always made you feel good just by being there, and having all his attention on you was all you ever wanted. You giggled as he kissed his way down your neck. “Thank you.” 

He hummed as he kissed along the neckline of the dress you were wearing. “Did you like your gift, Princess?” Steve asked, kissing along the top of your breasts. 

You let out a quiet gasp of pleasure as you felt him gently nip at your skin. You nodded, “I did. Thank you, Stevie.” You whispered, getting lost in the way he made you feel. You thought of the gift he had given you this morning, it was currently parked in the twelve-car garage of the house, sitting there with a pretty, red bow on top of it. It was your shiny, new dream car. 

“We can go on a drive later, if you want.” He murmured against your skin, one of his hands releasing your wrists, lowering to undo the buttons at the front of your dress. 

You shivered as you felt the warm, slow touches of his lips and fingertips all at the same time. He was always so gentle with you and always so mean to others. He always said that was because you were his precious Princess and other people meant nothing to him. 

A drive with Stevie sounded amazing. Only, he’s always working these days. Would he even have the time? “We could. But then what about work?” 

He froze for a moment, hearing the hint of sadness and uncertainty in your tone. He hated it. He hated that he had been so engrossed in work this past week that you noticed he wasn’t spending enough time with you. 

Steve pulled away and looked up at you. “I’ve been too busy with work lately, haven’t I?” He asked, knowing the answer. The little, sad nod you gave him made his heart hurt. “Aww…” he cooed, reaching up to kiss your nose, “I’m sorry, Princess.” He murmured against your skin and pulled away to look into your eyes again. “How about this, you have me all to yourself for the whole day today and the upcoming week? Sounds good?” 

He didn’t care about how much that would affect the many people who worked for him, all he knew was that his Princess needed him and he would do anything to make her happy. 

You smiled brightly. “Perfect!” 

He chuckled before leaning in to kiss your lips. Slow and gentle at first, before growing more and more needy for you. He pressed his body against yours, allowing you to feel the urgency of his need. You gasped into the heated kiss as you felt his hardness in between your legs. Steve shoved his tongue past your lips, tasting you, stroking the inside of your mouth. You whined when you felt him roll his hips against yours. 

You felt warm, burning with need just as much as he was. And he knew. 

You shivered in pleasure as you felt him kiss his way down your body again, unbuttoning your dress with impatience, his need overpowering his entire being. He needed you, needed to taste you and have you come undone on his tongue, he needed your taste embedded in his brain, not wanting to risk ever forgetting it. 

Steve kissed down the middle of your breasts, down till your belly button and stopped at the waistband of your light pink, lace panties, which matched the bra and the dress you wore. Wanting to tease you just a little, he stuck his tongue out and licked along the edge of your underwear before licking up and down your wet, clothed core. 

He watched you squirm on the bed. Smirking devilishly, he kissed along your inner thigh just to mess with you a little more. He could tell you were slowly giving into the haze of pleasure which washed over you even though he had barely touched you yet. 

“Stevie…” you whispered, closing your eyes and tipping your head back as he nibbled along the soft skin on your inner thigh. “Please…” 

He had to give in. His cock twitched in his pants, straining against the zipper at the sound of your soft moans and pleas. 

He pulled your underwear away from your skin and to the side, exposing your dripping wet folds to his hungry eyes. He could tell just by the look of it that your sensitive clit was throbbing. He hummed in satisfaction, “Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen…” He whispered more so to himself, reminding himself - not that he would ever forget - that you were his. “Spread your legs for me, Princess.” 

You did, just like you did everything he asked. You parted your legs then supported yourself up on your elbows, watching him. Steve once mentioned that he liked it when you watched him as he pleasured you. 

You let out a moan the moment his mouth touched you. His lips moved along your wet folds as his tongue teased your entrance. His beard scratched your sensitive skin, as your arousal spread all over his mouth. 

“You taste so sweet, Princess.” You watched how Steve closed his eyes, savouring your taste. You were a moaning mess in no time, your whole body electrified at his touch. “Like strawberries and honey.” He moaned at your taste alone, humping against the bed discreetly. He could always fuck you later, but right now was strictly about you. 

Steve moved his hand which was caressing up and down your thigh towards your core. He pushed his two fingers past your entrance and pumped them in and out of you slowly, gradually increasing his pace. He felt your walls clench around his fingers as you moaned louder and louder with each stroke of his fingers against your walls. His mouth moved to your throbbing clit, teasing you further until you felt like you were losing your mind. 

“Stevie…” You struggled to hold back your moans. 

Steve took one look at you and he knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You never could last long under his touch anyways. But he was always more than happy to pleasure his Princess. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, Princess? You can’t hold back from cumming all over my tongue, can you baby?” 

His husky voice made your body throb even more, along with his warm breath fanning your damp skin. You whined in response, dropping down on the bed - your upper body having no strength to hold you up any longer. Steve chuckled. 

“It’s okay, Princess. Cum for me.” He whispered and placed his mouth back on your clit while his fingers pumped in and out of your relentlessly. He noticed the way your legs were shaking slightly. You couldn’t hold the pressure in between your legs anymore so you let go and came violently around his fingers and mouth. 

You moaned out loud, squirming as you came, and Steve lapped up everything you had to offer. He licked each and every drop of your cum as it spilled out of you before kissing his way up your body again. He reached your lips and kissed you deeply. 

You giggled into the kiss. It made Steve smile, he always found it adorable how you were always so giggly after he made you cum. 

Steve pulled away after a while, looking down at your swollen lips and the shine in your eyes. “Want me to order your favorites for your special day? Strawberry and chocolate donuts?” He asked. Those damn donuts were your kryptonite. He often wondered if you loved them more than you loved him. 

You gave it a thought. “Nope.” 

Your answer worried him. And he opened his mouth to ask you why but you spoke up before he could. “Let’s make some cupcakes instead. With strawberry and chocolate icing.” You had missed him so much and you desperately wanted to spend time with him, and what was better than baking together in the kitchen? 

Steve smiled, almost reading your mind. He knew exactly why you had proposed so. He felt a little guilty but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Then he remembered… 

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Princess,” it sounded like a warning. “You remember what happened the last time we tried to bake something, right?” His voice sent shivers dancing down your back. 

Of course you remembered. It involved a lot of kisses, chocolate ganache and eventually ended with Steve fucking you right there on the kitchen floor. Your face felt really as that memory resurfaced in your head. 

You nodded. “I promise that won’t happen again, Stevie.” You were the one to blame for that, since it was you who kept teasing him in the first place. 

He hummed in your ear, the sound making your body throb again. “We’ll see about that.” He pulled away and stared down at you. “Okay, come on. Let’s go make some cupcakes for my Princess.” 

You jumped out of bed the moment he got off you. He pulled you close again, buttoning your dress for you while you looked up at him like he hung the moon. 

By the time you made it to the kitchen, Steve had already removed his suit jacket and tie. The black button down shirt was doing things to you but he didn’t need to know that yet. It should be illegal for a man to look that good. While you took out all the appliances and utensils you needed for the cupcakes and icing, Steve’s phone vibrated on the counter. 

He grabbed his phone and took a look at who the caller was. You noticed the frown on his face. 

“Who is it Stevie? Is it work?” 

The discontent in your tone didn’t go by unnoticed. But this phone call had to be dealt with. “No, Princess.” Steve stepped closer and kissed your forehead. “It’s… an old friend. I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” He kissed your lips briefly and left the kitchen. 

You pouted for a moment but then shook it off. 

Steve went as far away from the open kitchen as he could, just to get out of your hearing range. He had to cross the entire living room to answer the call. Bitterly. 

“What?” He spat at the caller. And he was immediately greeted by a sobbing woman. 

“Just let me talk to her, at least please. She’s my-,” 

Steve cut the crying woman off, like he always did. “She’s your nothing! Nothing, you hear me? She’s mine. Only mine. It’s not my fault you’re a terrible mother who doesn’t care about her daughter’s well-being.” 

He heard more sobbing on the phone. “I didn’t do anything, I just-,” 

He cut her off once again. “Stop lying! You tried to take her away from me!” 

The woman raised her voice. “Because I realized that you’re crazy! I regret the day I met you, the day I let you in my life, in her life. You were a big mistake, and now you won’t even let me talk to my daughter?!” Her anger could be heard despite the tears. “You won’t even let me come home, I can’t even step out of this damn place because your men are everywhere!” 

Steve chuckled. Your mother was abroad, not allowed to come anywhere close to you because… because he didn’t like the thought of having to share your love or attention. You were his. You had him, you didn’t need anyone else. 

“You’re in a luxurious house, with everything one can ever need in it. What are you complaining about? You could’ve been dead, you know? I could have had you killed instead if I wanted to, but I didn’t. You should thank me for that.” 

He received a series of swear words as a reply, which only made him smirk wider. 

“It’s her birthday, Steve. Let me talk to her. I won’t tell her anything about this, please.” The woman begged. 

Steve scoffed. “She doesn’t need you. She has me. Now, don’t ever call here again or I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another day.” He ended the call right in the woman’s face. He carelessly tossed his phone on one of the couches as he walked back into the kitchen. 

You were taking out all the ingredients, weighing them on the scale carefully. You had somehow managed to get some flour on your cheek in the process. Steve smiled, his heart melting at the sight of you. So precious, all his. 

He walked over to where you stood and wrapped his arms around your waist, lowering his head to kiss your exposed shoulder. “Hi Princess.” He murmured, softly. 

You smiled. “Hi.” 

“I love you more than anything, Princess. You know that, right?” He placed another kiss on your skin. 

You turned your head to the side a little, smiling, “I know, you tell me everyday. I love you too, Stevie.” 

-

Midway through, while your cupcakes were in the oven and Steve was getting the icing ready, he noticed a slight frown on your face as you sat on the counter not far from him. 

“What is it, Princess?” He placed the bowl down and stared at you, giving you his undivided attention as always. 

“Hmm?” You looked up at him, “Oh, nothing.” You lied. And he caught it immediately. You were never a good liar. 

Steve walked over to you, stepping in between your legs and placing his hands on your thighs, caressing your skin gently. “Don’t lie to me, Princess. Tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

You looked down at your lap, his hands inching higher and higher up your thigh. You wondered if you should bring it up, because it always upset him. But before you could stop yourself, you were blurting out the words, “I was wondering why my mom didn’t call me today. She did last year. You think she forgot my birthday?” 

Steve was upset for a moment, before being clouded by jealousy and possessiveness. He tried smiling to hide it. “You don’t need her. If she cared, she’d be here right now. Don’t you agree, Princess?” 

You nodded, lowering your eyes, but Steve could tell you didn’t agree. 

“Princess, look at me.” He spoke, you looked up. “You don’t need anyone. You have me, right?” 

You nodded again, more firmly. “I know, Stevie but-,” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. Steve slid his hand into your hair and tugged on it gently to make sure he had your attention. “Because what, huh? Is my love not enough for you? Am I not enough?” His tone was gentle but bitter. His eyes were glossier than before. Anger, jealousy, it all ate him up on the inside. 

You stared into his eyes, your own watering a little. Oh no, you didn’t want to upset him. “You’re my everything, Stevie.” 

Those words shook his entire being, and he released your hair immediately. He looked down for a moment, sighing loudly. He placed his hands on either side of you on the counter, pressing his forehead to your chest. “You’re mine, Princess.” He whispered as your fingers slid into his hair, massaging his scalp to calm him down. It was working. “You’re mine and you don’t need anyone else.” He whispered. “We don’t need anyone.” 

You spoke up immediately, “I know. I don’t need anyone. I have you.” You felt him kiss his way up your neck soon after. 

“But you’re still thinking about your mother, are you not?” He sounded bitter. “She doesn’t care about you, Princess. She never has, neither did your father. They never cared or loved you like I do.” He said softly, but his jealousy was hard to ignore. 

“I know, Stevie.” 

You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was in a bad mood. He eventually said so himself, “You upset me, Princess.” He murmured then resumed kissing your skin. “I do all this for you, buy you what you want, do everything to keep you happy but it seems I’m not enough.” He whispered against your skin and you shivered at his tone. 

“No Stevie, that’s not-,” 

He shut you up by placing his mouth on yours. He kissed you with all he had in him, pouring out all his emotions - the good and the bad. His hands gripped your hips as he kissed you hard and fiercely, not caring that he was biting your lips carelessly. 

You couldn’t help but gasp into the kiss when he swiftly slid you off the counter and set you down on your feet. Steve pulled away and stared into your eyes with love and anger. “I’m all you need, Princess. Why can’t you just accept that?” 

Before you could say something, he turned you around so your front pressed against the edge of the counter and your back to his torso. You gripped the counter as he grabbed your dress on either side and pulled it up until it bunched around your waist. You felt his mouth at the side of your neck; licking and biting and kissing - making your heart race and that intensified when you heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

“I’m gonna show you that I’m enough.” He whispered into your ear. “That I’m all you need, because no one is going to love you as much as I do, Princess.” The sincerity and certainly in his voice sent tingles down your spine. 

You felt him lower your underwear until it reached your ankles. Your heart fluttered and raced all at the same time. You could feel him, pressing against you. His hands on either side of your waist as you pressed the palms of your hands against the cold counter. 

You waited for a moment. Then you felt the tip of his cock press against your folds, slowly rubbing up and down; parting the lips at your entrance. “You’re all mine, Princess.” Steve moaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you.

Your grip on the counter grew tighter as you steadied yourself for his thrust, knowing it was coming sooner than you thought. Steadily, Steve filled you up; stretching you all the way like he always did. And he had you whimpering in no time. 

“You belong to me.” He murmured, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. Your mind was foggy as he started rocking into you. Slowly at first, then gradually building up his pace. “Say it.” He demanded. “Tell me you belong to me.” 

You felt all of him. Each time he filled you up entirely, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot, and you moaned out loud each time; your walls clenching around him. 

“I’m yours…” you whispered. Your mind was hazy, by him slamming into you. His thrust was animalistic, and rough. Each time he slammed into you, your front crashed against the counter, achingly. But the pleasure his body brought you made up for that.

“Louder.” He growled. “I didn’t hear you.” He taunted, pulling his face away. His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and tugged on it; tipping your head back. “I said louder, Princess.” His voice sounded menacing. 

You whimpered as he pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he thrust into you. “I… I’m yours, Stevie” You said, louder like he wanted. 

The sounds of your skin slapping against one another was downright obscene, and the grunts leaving his mouth was even more sinful. You couldn’t see him, yet you knew he looked absolutely, devilishly handsome with his head thrown back, eyes closed, his lips parted as occasional groans escaped his lips. You could imagine him with the frown of pleasure he always had whenever he fucked you. 

“You better remember that, Princess.” He growled into your ear. “You are mine. I love you, and I am the only one you’re allowed to love back. You hear me?” 

You nodded, moaning as he reached every single sensitive spot inside you. You felt a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer. 

And when your walls clenched violently around him, Steve knew you were close as well.

“You’re gonna cum for me, Princess?” he cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire. Seeing you didn’t reply, he tugged on your hair and tilted your head back a little more. He leaned in to kiss your parted lips before pulling away a few inches to spit into your mouth, then leaned in to kiss your swollen lips again. You moaned wantonly as he did. 

“Cum for me.” He slammed his cock harder into you, and your eyes watered. He felt agonizingly good. It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him; you came, hard.

He did too. With a few strokes against your walls, he came right after you. “All fucking mine.” His warm load shooting inside you, leaving behind his presence as your body shook against the counter.

Carefully, he pulled out. And smiled, satisfied, as he watched how his cum trickled out of you and past your folds. He adjusted his pants and zipped it up. He pulled your underwear up, then finally fixed your dress. 

He leaned in to kiss your cheek. Your back was still against his torso, and his arms were around you. Unable to trust your own body, your hands gripped the counter still. He nuzzled your neck, kissed your skin and moved his lips to your ear. 

“Now tell me, Princess, do you need anyone else? Anyone at all?” He mumbled. 

You shook your head, still hazy. “No, Stevie. You’re all I need. You’re my everything.” You replied, repeating the same words he constantly told you. “I love you.” 

Steve smiled against your skin. “I love you more, Princess.” He added, “Perhaps a little too much.” He meant what he said. 

He didn’t care how many times he’d have to remind you. He would do it as many times as it took, all for you to realize that you belonged to him. There was no one else. No other love, no one else to turn to, nowhere to run. Just him. 

“Now come on, we have cupcakes to ice.” He kissed your cheek before pulling your trembling body away from the counter. 

You smiled up at him. Your Stevie… How could you ever bother about whether anyone else remembered your birthday or not? Stevie was here for you, and he was all you ever needed. He was your everything. You loved him. Only him. 

#steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #mob!steve #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers

[raksh-writes]

Late night devil (put your hands on me)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski

Words: ~5,5k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: sorta sickfic, shameless smut, dom/sub, praise kink, and the likes -- for more info and tags check the work over on AO3!

I've had a pretty tough week, but somehow managed to produce this one-shot while 100% self-projecting onto Stiles soooo, hope it's gonna be an enjoyable read! ^^ It definitely feels good to finally have something to post for my favorite bbies 💗🥰 Title from "Teeth" by 5SOS because I Love the song (or rather this one specific slowed down, deeper version ^^) and the chorus is just SO Voiles 😩💗 Also, big thanks to my lovely beta and best friend ever @flowers-for-stiles for giving this one a read through 💗💗

And, as always, hope this one’s gonna be a lovely read to y’all ^^ 💗

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Overstimulation was never a word Stiles thought would apply to him. In fact, he’d say that for most of his life he’s rather been on the quite opposite spectrum — understimulated and always looking for something new to occupy himself with, to give his hyperactive brain to munch on and chase away all the nervous jitters that came with not enough stimuli, his attention drifting too easily. Then his magic happened, always abuzz under his skin, always seeking new ways for release and always, always craving more, which — he never really minded much. It was exciting and perfectly suited for his inquisitive nature; figuring out how to exist in harmony with his new powers, how to keep them satisfied and calmly flowing right alongside his blood. And— well…

Since he finally gave in to Void, since their connection turned into an infinite mating bond, it’s been all the easier to fulfill all his different cravings — the demon always more than happy to wring any last drop of sensation out of Stiles, leaving him completely spent and satisfied. And it’s been perfect, thus far. Void has also been the one to truly introduce the term into his life, relentless and hungry for anything and everything Stiles would give him, never backing down until he has it all and more. But Stiles loves it, the way the demon can bring him right to the sharpest edge of the purest pain-pleasure and keep him there until he’s a crying, begging mess — guiding him to the brink of overstimulation and past it, playing on his senses as if he’s been made for it, made for every whim and wish of the fox demon, more than happy to bend each and every way Void asks of him. But that’s the fun part, the part Stiles loves and cherishes and could never turn away from, what’s happening now, though…

Rubbing over his aching eyes, Stiles battles with the urge to throw it all to hell and just go lay down — the arguably most important exam this semester is three days away and he should be studying his ass off but instead can barely focus on the notes right in front of him. And it’s not the usual mind-drifting he’s been used to his whole life too — no, that one he already knows how to deal with, but this— This is a whole other beast.

The past few days he could barely sit through his lectures, every tone shift of his professors’ voices, every scrape of a chair over the floor so aggravating to his ears he flinched every time, shoulders drawn up high as if to help mute the world around him. God, he doesn’t even want to think how it’d feel if his senses were stronger than they are; just the whispers of his fellow students too much at any given moment. The bright lights overhead never helped either, making him squint so much his eyes would water and ache in a matter of hours — he'd been so beat at the end of the day he could just about only go to sleep. None of the notes he tried writing down make any sense now and Stiles has no recollection of what’s been discussed too — normally, he could get most of the material memorized just by listening, but these days it feels like he hasn’t retained anything from his classes. The exam’s quickly approaching and it looks more and more as if his mind is just not going to cooperate, bruised and aching inside his head.

With a sigh, Stiles braces his forehead on his palm and looks down on the pages upon pages of material, trying to read the words that refuse to make sense in his tender brain. A constant pressure keeps pushing at his skull from inside out, blunt and insistent, centered at the forefront of his head but also so widely spread it seems like no corner of his mind is unaffected, all and any thoughts scrambled like the eggs he ate this morning — without much appetite too, nausea rolling against the walls of his stomach like waves over the shore; not strong, but notable enough to make eating more of a chore than anything else. Even the amazing chicken noodle soup Void brought him didn’t seem to taste quite as it should on his tongue — and Stiles has a niggling suspicion the demon went all the way to Poland to get him some proper rosół. Just why he did remains a mystery, but the week’s been weird enough already and with how constantly Void has been bringing him meals — comfort ones, nonetheless — he’d guess the demon was just bored and looking for entertainment. It’s not like Stiles had the time or mind for anything this week — between the finals season in full swing, his unresponsive brain and the part-time job eating away at his free time, it felt like he barely even managed to get some evening cuddles and few kisses here and there from his mate. It’s really been… fucking hell, it’s really been a week.

Halfway through reading the same sentence for the third time in a row without comprehending any of what it conveys, Stiles swears under his nose and puts down the pen in his hand — it clunks on the wood, making him flinch.

“Well, that’s fucking it,” he mutters, hands roughly rubbing down his face before he finally pushes himself away from the desk.

The sunlight pouring inside through the window is already muted with the oncoming dusk, but soon enough it’ll be overcome by the lights of the neighborhood — they might live in a calm district on the outskirts of the city, but the nights are still much more awake than they were back at home in Beacon Hills, so even now it’s bright enough to make him squint. Shading his eyes as he comes up to their bedroom’s large window, Stiles pulls down the dark blinds they installed and closes the heavy curtains over them, just for a good measure — it makes the room almost completely dark, and Stiles can finally breathe out in relief. Tapping the wall to activate all the different soundproofing sigils he put in place — cutting all the noises from both outside and inside from getting in or out — he takes off his clothes exactly where he stands, uncaring of where they land, and — at last — crawls into bed.

Groaning low in his chest, Stiles curls up under the soft sheets, bunching up the duvet around his half-naked body as tightly as possible — and as much as he likes to grouse at Void for constantly bringing in new, expensive sets when they really don’t need them, he can’t deny they feel absolutely amazing on his skin, especially with how over-sensitive to everything he seems to be. Finally settling down, Stiles pushes his face into the pillows as he cuddles another one close to his chest, a small whine caught inside his lungs — the only thing he’s missing right now in his cocoon of warmth and comfort is the demon himself, and oh, does Stiles miss the bastard something fierce. Where even is his mate when Stiles needs him here so much [so] it hurts?

Okay, most of it is the weird sensory overload he’s been having for the large part of this week, but now — finally alone in their bed, cuddled up in their sheets with the room completely blacked out and silenced — his instincts call out for his missing partner, the one that always brings him relief whenever he needs it, whatever it might be. And his magic continues to buzz under his skin, unsettled and somewhat irate, as if angry with him for reasons Stiles can’t begin to understand; his mind too overwhelmed with the pressure pushing at his skull, his head both too heavy and too airy-light on his shoulders, and senses too fried and sensitive to the smallest stimuli, yet still — his magic continues to hum a frustrated tune, as aggravating as chalk on a board.

Stiles frowns, rubbing his face into the pillow. Come to think of it, in all the messiness of the ongoing week, he hasn’t let his magic burn its course even once — it needs release just as much as he does, if not more, and it’s become normal to find ways for it to do so. Which, more so than not, Void has always helped him out with — especially since his magic seemed content to flow with the ebb of their shared pleasure, maybe finding in it the life essence and energy it thrived on, then settled right alongside Stiles whenever his mate took his loving time with him. Although.. that might’ve been also partly because of how spent he always is after.

Something tight and aching takes hold of Stiles’ chest as the absence of his mate grows, empty and echoing in the pure silence around him, in the lack of Void’s cool touch, his deep, rumbling voice, his hot, soft lips. Stiles chokes down a whine, a small little thing in his throat, as his fingers reach up to gently graze over the black rune on his pec, right above his heart. It probably won’t do anything if Void’s absorbed in whatever he’s doing on the other end of the world and their bond — possibly feeding, but it’s hard to glimpse when they’re so far apart and Stiles can barely focus on functioning just by himself — but still, Stiles tries to look down their connection; tries to send the smallest little trickle of a request, a plea, hoping it’ll catch his mate’s attention. Then he retreats, already exhausted beyond what should be normal, yet too keyed up with magic abuzz in his veins and his mind scrambled inside his skull to rest, to fall asleep and maybe wake up to strong arms at his waist and a sharp smile at his nape.

He’s not sure how much time has passed — could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours, maybe he even nodded off at some point — but finally, the covers rustle. Cool air slips under the duvet, making his shiver, but before he can voice his protest, Void curls around his mostly naked body, flush against his back and strong arm around his middle as their sheets are safely tucked back, and Stiles exhales a wavering breath, the relief so strong and airy in his chest it brings a thin veil of tears to his eyes.

Weak mewl on his lips, Stiles pushes away the pillow he’s been hugging in favor of embracing back his mate’s arm, so sure and perfect on his waist.

“Hush, sweetheart,” the demon murmurs, mouth gentle on the back of his neck, muffling his voice in Stiles’ skin as if to avoid aggravating his ears — words more felt than heard as Stiles shudders.

He tries pushing back closer to his mate, encouraged by how readily Void pulls him in; the demon slides one arm under his pillow too, so Stiles can rest on it, cuddling him up as perfectly as ever. By now, they’re completely flush against each other and yet — it somehow doesn’t seem like enough. The demon’s presence is soothing as it always it, part of Stiles’ still unsettled magic calming down as their bond widens and thrums between them so it can flow through easily, but Stiles’ head stays unbelievably heavy, no thoughts formed that would make any sense — and still, he craves.

Void pushes his knee between Stiles’ legs, the silky material of his sleeping pants cool and slippery against his skin, fingers spreading out on his belly as Void trails his nose over the back of Stiles’ neck — then he makes a frustrated sound, barely-heard as it sticks to the back of his throat as if he didn’t quite mean to let it out.

“What is it?” Stiles asks in a whisper, so low it’s almost inaudible, but with Void’s sharp senses and their connection, the volume scarcely matters. The arm around his middle tightens, hand reaching higher over his stomach, and he moves his own palm to cover it, threading fingers between Void’s.

“You’re hurting,” the demon answers, almost a growl the way his voice rumbles, the vibration all kinds of lovely against Stiles’ back like a purr, but there’s frustration in his voice too, accusation even — though not directed at Stiles, “but I can’t take it. And I don’t know why.” Brows furrowed, Void brushes his face against Stiles’ neck, scenting him so thoroughly as if the mere gesture could wipe away the hurt he’s not able to absorb.

Stiles’ heart squeezes tight in his chest as he swallows thickly, all at once remembering all the little moments throughout the week, when his mate would touch and scent him with a bit more insistence than normally; Void must’ve been furious at his usual tricks being rendered basically useless. And the thought fills Stiles with both gratitude and an astute ache for his mate.

“It’s not painful,” he assures, shifting just slightly so he can look back at Void — not that he can see much in the pitch blackness, but his demon gets the hint, nudging their noses together. “It’s just… extremely uncomfortable.” If only that made it better, not just different…

Void moves his arm, bringing his fingers down to trail lightly over Stiles’ cheek, under his chin — and Stiles curls his hand around Void’s forearm, just under the elbow, comforted by being able to hold onto his mate.

“What do you need of me then, little fox?” the demon asks, oh so softly, as gentle and soothing as Stiles ever heard him. “Tell me.”

Stiles licks his lips, mind still in jumbles as he tries to come up with something, anything, to tell his mate, to assure there’s a way he could help, could bring him comfort. His magic buzzes, pins and needles swimming through his veins, demanding and irate at being ignored.

Squirming in place, Stiles grimaces — and can almost see the frown rising to Void’s face.

“Stiles?”

He reaches up, somehow able to find Void’s neck and curl his fingers around the back, the move pressing him even more flush against his mate. Tugging at his demon, Stiles leans up for a kiss, a weak little sound slipping out when Void readily complies, mouth soft and hot as he opens him up, slowly lapping between his parted lips as if drinking in the droplets of his pleasure right from his tongue. It’s deep and unhurried and as intense as everything always is with Void, working more perfectly than he could’ve anticipated at pushing away the insistent pressure in his skull to the back of his mind — the sweet, sweet fog of arousal swimming to the forefront instead.

Their breaths are heavy and quick as they part, and Stiles grinds his hips back, just the slightest of moves, biting down on his lips at the barely-audible growl behind him.

“You could try and distract me,” he offers, voice scarcely more than a breathy whisper, fingers twinning with the short hair at his demon’s nape.

“Try?” Void repeats, a purr rising in his chest that’s so deep and low it’s all but a lovely massage on Stiles’ back. “You really should know better than to tease me, kitten, or have you forgotten just who you belong to? Maybe I should give you a reminder.”

Stiles shivers, acutely aware of the leg pushed between his own and the hand slowly trailing up his belly, up his chest — Void brushes a claw against his nipple and the moan slips unbidden, his spine curving up into the touch.

“Or maybe you’re just so desperate for it, huh? How long has it been, sweetheart? A week? Even more?” Void’s teasing him, that’s clear enough, but the words curl tightly around Stiles’ heart all the same — because it surely has been and Stiles hasn't even realized he’s been neglecting his mate so much. Then Void tweaks his nipple sharply and a spark of pain shoots straight down to his hips so hot and electric Stiles forgets everything else on a small, breathy moan. “It’s really been too long, I see. Already getting so hot and needy for me when I've barely done anything yet, aren’t you?” And Stiles really, really is, delicious heat spreading in his hips as his erection begins to strain against his underwear. Void chuckles, tugging at his nipple sharp and hard enough he gasps, whole body jolting back into the demon. “Seems I have to take good care of you tonight, kitten. What do you say?”

“Please…” Stiles curves back into his mate, desperation slowly rising way down in his core to climb higher and higher the longer Void continues his teasing.

“Hush, sweetheart,” Void shushes him, rubbing his nose and cheek on Stiles’ neck. “I’ll give you what you need.”

A small whine sticks to the back of his throat, but then Void’s nibbling at his collarbone, teeth sharp and mouth purposeful, hand trailing back down over his belly, his hip — and, finally, to his erection, hot and throbbing under the thin material of his boxers. But Void doesn’t make a move to slide them off, no — instead, he brushes his fingers against Stiles’ dick over the briefs, waking an almost violent shudder in return.

“Void—” Stiles moans, begs really, but Void shushes him again, a sharp bite left at the back of his ear — just as much a reminder as an order. Stiles whines low in his chest, but surrenders to the sweet torture just the same.

Void curls his fingers around Stiles’ dick, rubbing at the head through the soaked cloth with his thumb, seemingly indifferent to all the little mewls spilling from his mate’s lips as he continues to bite and nibble bruises into Stiles’ neck. Pressing back against the demon, Stiles shudders at the feeling of Void’s cock slowly filling up, thickening so long and perfect against his ass — then something soft and ethereal brushes against his stomach, rising up his chest, and catches on his nipple, almost like a feather. Shivering, Stiles curves up and into the new sensation, even just the thought of what it truly is stocking up the fierce heat in his hips.

“That’s it, kitten,” the demon praises, voice honey-thick and sweet like molasses, “so good for me.”

Stiles whines, long and low in his throat, rutting back into his mate in a silent plea — Void chuckles but, finally, slips his hand under Stiles’ boxers and takes his throbbing erection, starting up a rhythm so slow and just tight enough it’s all but ramping up the needy thing in Stiles’ core into pure, physical desperation that has him squirming and moaning for more. A handjob isn’t exactly what Stiles had in mind, not with that perfect cock rubbing against his ass with every little move he makes, but he’s not about to complain — and for all he knows, Void might have his own plans for the night. Which— The moment another soft, light as a feather sensation brushes over the back of his thigh, right where it meets the curve of his butt, it becomes clear he does — Stiles shivers, anticipation flaring so hot and bright in his core it makes him dizzy.

“Easy, little fox,” Void soothes, keeping his strokes so infuriatingly light and unhurried Stiles would’ve been ready to strangle him if he wasn’t already so desperate and into this whole game they’ve been playing. “Be good and you can come whenever you want to.”

Another moan sticks to his tongue — it’s so rare that he gets permission so quickly, so easily, but it also makes him want to hold out for as long as possible, just to prove how good he can be for his mate. And—

“How—” A violent shudder cuts through his words as that soft, ethereal touch climbs up under his boxers, over the curve of his ass and in-between his cheeks, teasing at his rim with little, kitten licks. “How many?” His voice is no more than a breathy moan, hips shamelessly rutting into that sensation that doesn’t budge even an inch, moving right with him.

Void’s smile against his neck is as sharp as his teeth. “As many as you’ll have strength for.”

There’s probably no more than two in him, but Stiles still whines high in his throat, whole-body shiver rocking him against Void as that ethereal sensation pushes in, so smooth and silky it slips inside without resistance, spreading him as deliciously as Void’s fingers would — and Stiles is so used to taking his mate, to opening up for him whenever and however the demon wants him, it only flares with more heated pleasure in his hips, so sharp and acute he mewls, already dancing on the edge but too far away to fall.

“Please!” he begs, mind scrambled and unable to decide if he should rut back into Void or up into the hand moving so agonizingly slow on his dick.

“Hush, kitten, hush,” Void shushes him yet again, finally — finally — grinding his long, thick cock into Stiles’ ass, against that sensation spreading him open and rubbing that perfect, shivery-sweet spot over and over and over again. “I told you — whenever you want to.” Stiles whines, begs, really, desperately trying to press back into the touch that doesn’t change, as relentless as Void always is, grazing his prostate in the sweetest pressure calculated to bring him higher and higher and higher until it feels like he’s gonna burst but he can’t— can’t— “Oh,” Void smirks, sharp and almost cruel under his ear, “you need me to tell you, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Stiles calls out, voice thin, as if he could manage anything more but a breathy half-whisper, half-moan, “yes, please!—”

“Hush,” Void murmurs, hand tightening around Stiles’ dick as the ethereal touch solidifies, quickens, “such a perfect mate,” he praises, so low and sweet and soft as his hand is anything but, hard and sure and demanding — Stiles jolts, mewls— “you can come for me now, kitten.”

And he does — squirming and shuddering and little moans spilling out his parted lips. The touch doesn’t ease off, rubbing against his prostate all shivery and sweet as the pleasure pulses through his whole body, muscles clenching and unclenching and the heat burning so high it wipes away everything else. Void keeps stroking him through his orgasm with a slow, measured pace, nose pressed into Stiles’ neck and breathing in with his whole chest; as he finally starts to come down, Void’s hand gentles and that ethereal pressure slowly retreats, leaving him empty and gaping, twitching around nothing where there should be a knot to keep him all spread and full.

With tremors still rocking through his whole body, Stiles reaches back for his mate — tugs at Void as he leans up and whines into the kiss that follows, slow and messy and as intense as ever. When they part, Stiles can’t help but steal a few more — the magic settled down in his blood with the perfect release his mate provided but a part of him left bereft, still longing for what he should’ve gotten.

Slowly, a little hesitantly, he nudges his hips back, shuddering as Void’s cock fits perfectly against his ass — before the demon can say anything, he pushes up into another kiss, catching his lips in a far filthier, deeper one that Void immediately returns, a low growl vibrating in his chest. And as he licks into his open mouth so hot and hungry, Stiles takes back his hand and reaches down, slipping it under Void’s silky sleeping pants until he can curl his fingers around that mouth-watering cock. They both groan then, breaths mixed between their joined lips, and Stiles strokes his palm down the impressive length, a whine catching in his throat when he can feel the slight swelling at the base. It wouldn’t last long but fuck, does Stiles need it.

“Void, please…” he begs quietly, eyes already slightly wet from the intensity of his previous orgasm — his magic renders his refractory period almost nonexistent, but the slight edge of oversensitivity seems to linger now, and it will only make it more delicious.

Void rolls his hips into Stiles’ strokes, a growl vibrating low and deep in his chest. “Still haven’t had enough, kitten?” he asks, a slightly mocking edge to his words, but Stiles only nods, steals the shortest kiss he can manage — and that growl turns into something more like a purr. “Aren’t you a desperate, needy little thing,” he muses, but Stiles can recognize that amused, delighted tinge to it that makes a sweet shiver roll down his spine.

“Please, I need it,” Stiles squirms in his mate’s hold, acutely aware Void’s hand is still resting on his half-hard dick, under the soiled cloth of his boxers, “I need your knot, please—”

“Well, kitten… if you ask so nicely.”

Retrieving his hand, Void hooks his fingers in the boxer’s band before sliding it down under Stiles’ butt — but otherwise leaves them on, forcing Stiles to curl up a bit so the cloths’ pressure on his throbbing erection isn’t too stinging yet still very much present; and it flares the heat in his core all the higher for it, something about just his boxers staying on as Void fucks and knots him right here and now making all his senses absolutely thrill under his skin. And he doesn’t waste any more time, angling his hips and stroking down Void’s cock until the head catches against his rim, already so hot and throbbing he just about goes into a frenzy even before pushing himself down on it, pressing back until the head slips in — his breath hitches and Stiles stills, just for a second, yet Void only brushes his palm over his hip and doesn’t move further. Swallowing down, Stiles brings his hand forward to hold onto the sheets, and presses back again, moaning high in his throat as he continues to sink down on Void’s cock; as it spreads and opens him up as deliciously as ever and yet somehow always feeling completely new. When his ass finally rests flush against Void’s hips, the barely-there swelling just that more of a perfect stretch, a shuddery breath escapes his lungs — and the demon smirks sharply against his nape.

“Good kitten,” the praise slips like liquid honey down his tongue, flaring the heat deep inside Stiles back into that desperate need, voiced only in a whine. But Void’s sure hand curls around Stiles’ hip in a tight grip, unmistakable in its intent, and Stiles trembles, spin melting all pliant and malleable for his mate. “Very well, sweetheart, just like that,” the demon soothes, bending his other arm to place a palm on Stiles’ throat, tip his head back so it rests on his shoulder in perfect submission. “Be good and let me fuck you the way you need it, kitten,” his voice rumbles on the edge of a growl and Stiles bites down a moan, shuddering as that soft, silky touch comes back again — curling around his thigh, wide and almost fluffy in texture, then narrowing down his knee until it coils around his ankle, spreading him out over the leg Void already pushed between his. “Then — you can come on my knot. Sounds good, little fox?”

“Yes, pleeease—” He tries turning his head back, doesn’t really know what for, but Void meets him halfway — thumb tipping Stiles’ chin just the right way so he can catch his lips in a soft kiss, gentle and unhurried and slowly licking into his open mouth as he pulls away his hips, then pushes forward into Stiles, drinking in the mewl that slips from his mouth.

Void sets a pace that’s just as unhurried as his kiss, thrusts long and deep and angled perfectly right to rub against Stiles’ prostate, keeping almost constant pressure on that shivery-sweet spot that pulses and throbs in time with his dick, steadily leaking into the already soaked material of his underwear. The pleasure builds higher and higher and higher with every stroke, with every slide of Void’s cock inside Stiles, all hot and thick and just big enough to make him sore in the most dizzyingly wonderful way — the moans and whines slipping from his lips are constant now, so Void moves down his neck, kissing and nipping deep, bright bruises into his neck. In a bout of bravery or desperation — or maybe both at once — Stiles reaches back, gripping at Void’s hip as the demon quickens his pace, just slightly, and the knot at the base of his cock swells some more, spreading Stiles wider and wider every time its pushed in.

“Voooiid—” It’s a one, long whine more than his mate’s name, but the heat is getting so strong and burning Stiles is about ready to claw out of his own skin, he needs it so fucking much.

“Hush,” Void orders, an edge of steel to his voice — he moves his palm up Stiles’ throat, up his chin, until he can slip two fingers inside his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. “Be good, I said. Or I’ll change my mind — and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Stiles whines, shaking his head fervently as fresh saliva fills up his mouth — Void smirks, fingers working into Stiles’ mouth as if facefucking him like he normally would; and it’s so, so much hotter than Stiles could’ve ever imagined he trembles, images of all those times flashing through his mind bright and burning low in his hips.

“Good kitten,” Void murmurs, more of a purr than anything else, and he speeds up his thrusts — shorter, but still as deep as he can make them, the swelling knot pushing through and spreading Stiles’ more and more open but never enough to slide in and catch. A whine builds in his lungs, Stiles’ palm flexing on Void’s hip as he tries to hold on, sucks on those fingers in his mouth as he would on Void’s cock. “Very good, sweetheart, keep at it. You’ll come on my knot, and on my knot alone. I know you can, isn’t that right, kitten?”

Stiles moans his assent, a whole-hearted agreement, the desperate need that’s burning so hot it’s unbearable, and trembles down to his very bones as his muscles start to clench, the pleasure spreading and building and so, so, so fucking close. Yes, yes, fuck, he needs— needs, please!—

“Such a perfect mate for me,” Void murmurs — and thrusts sharply, sliding all the way inside Stiles so the knot catches in his ass and swells, spreading and stretching and filling him up so perfectly his whine is almost a scream as he tumbles into his own orgasm, shaking so badly the demon needs to hug him close, hold him still as the pleasure swims between them both, bright and hot and pulsing like life’s very heartbeat.

Trembling and jolting as it crests anew every time he can feel his mate’s release as acutely as his own, Stiles can’t help but push back against Void one more time; relish the feel of his thick, throbbing cock and swollen knot deep and perfectly snug inside his ass, lazy spurts of come against his hot flesh flaring the heat in most delicious ways. Long moments later, when it slowly ebbs away into just a lovely echo spreading through his hips once in a while, Stiles has no more strength left and, finally, melts into his demon’s embrace, warm and content.

“Stay,” is the only thing he manages to say, mind a mushy fluff inside his skull and muscles all loose and pliant throughout his whole body.

“Not going anywhere, sweetheart,” the demon assures, pulling him close as the soiled boxers are slowly slid down his legs and off, the soft, silky touch still in place around his leg and middle even with Void’s arm and hand hugged close over his stomach.

The clean-up is short and quick and passes Stiles by before he can notice much of it, but even then Void makes no move to detach them, hips still flush against his ass and knot well and snug inside Stiles, keeping him perfectly filled and open.

Good, his magic is satisfied for the moment, but nothing’s there to say he won’t need some more in the morning. And— well. Falling asleep on Void’s cock only to wake up slowly rocked on it, already hot and throbbing with pleasure deep in his core, is probably one of, if not the favorite way for Stiles to wake up, so he definitely wouldn’t mind that, not one bit. And going by the low chuckle at his nape, Void must agree.

“Rest, little fox,” he murmurs, nose trailing down Stiles’ neck as he cuddles him up a little tighter, the lowest of purrs vibrating into Stiles’ back, as soothing as only his mate’s presence could ever be.

With a content sigh, Stiles places his arm over Void’s and laces their fingers together, hugging it closer to his chest as he drifts off — finally able to rest.

#voiles #stiles stilinski #nogitsune #nogitsune/stiles #void stiles #stigitsune #stiles stilinski fanfic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #My writing #Raksh's writing #voiles one-shot #voiles smut #ahhh felt so good to write my bbies again and be able to post it 🥰🥰 #it's been super fun to write #so hope it's just as fun to read! ^^

[linorachas]

for the weekend. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x reader ⁍ genre — fluff & smut  ⁍ word count — 4.8k words ⁍ details — established relationship, producer!chan, choreographer!reader, lots of cuddles and kissing, oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, d/s undertones, mention of the word “cockslut”, chan worship, you’re both really in love ⁍ a/n — hello! i’m a new writing blog for skz. :D this is my first work here, so i’d love to hear your thoughts. i accept criticism, but please be nice i am trying my best ㅠㅠ part 2 is here! thank you to everyone who let me know that they wanted a part 2! ♥️ ⁍ summary — After a long week of hard work, you finally spend a weekend with Chan.

Friday - 2:03 am

 Your footsteps are light and quick as you rush down the hall, duffel bag bumping against your back as it bounces from your movements. 

You were sweaty, sticky, and overall about to pass out, but there was a wide grin on your face once you stopped in front of a very familiar studio door.

You had just finished helping create a choreography for an idol group, a whole day of repeating dance moves and drawing positions on papers. 

Your out was supposed to be at 7, but you had done overtime with the intent to clear your schedule tomorrow. You would have to do overtime on Monday again, but that didn’t matter right now.

All that matters was the boy behind this door who was working just as hard as you are.

Inside, Chan was hunched over his desk, headphones in, hand cramping as he furiously jots down some notes. 

He wasn’t required to stay in, no, he could’ve left hours ago and be asleep right now. But going home without you always bothered him, so he had decided to stay until his girlfriend was finished. 

He knew you felt the same, though. You once told him that you would just be tossing and turning in bed if you went home without him. When the tables are turned and he was the one doing the overtime, you would doze on a chair beside him while he worked, or spend some time at the studio yourself.

Chan had checked the time just a few minutes ago, and he knew that you were already on your way here. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of starting on a new project while waiting, so it would bother him if he left this unfinished while he rested at home. 

So now he was cramming, rushing to finish at least a draft. 

 You, on the other side of the door, didn’t bother with knocking, and just pushed the door open slowly. 

 Your eyes immediately find your boyfriend’s busy form; Chan’s hair was covered by a reversed snapback, basketball short clad legs tucked Indian style on top of his chair. 

 You feel a tug on your heartstrings as you watch Chan work hard for the sake of a free day tomorrow, a free day for you two.

 You smile at the way Chan taps the pen on the desk to an unfamiliar beat or taps it to the snapback on his head, before going back to writing again. 

 Chan also does these annoyed puffs of breath every few seconds, something you found to be very endearing ever since the first day you met. 

 When Chan groans in frustration, you finally walk inside and shut the door behind you, dropping your duffel bag on the floor.

 Chan freezes and stops writing when he feels arms wrapping around his neck, but the feeling is immediately gone when his brain registers that it’s his baby. 

 You press small close mouthed kisses on Chan’s cheek before you nuzzle your head against the crook between Chan’s neck and shoulder, and a smile blooms on Chan’s face.

 “Sorry,” Chan mutters, yanking his earphones down when you stop kissing him and pull away. You don’t answer. Instead, you remove Chan’s snapback from his head and card your fingers through his hair gently. 

 Chan sighs contentedly, eyes slipping shut as he leans his head back on the chair, following the flow of your fingers. He opens his eyes again when you lean down and press a kiss to his lips, 

 his nose, 

 and then his forehead. 

 You grin at him, and despite being in an unflattering upside down angle, Chan thinks you look absolutely gorgeous like this.

 Barefaced, happy, and in love.

 “It’s okay, Channie,” you finally say, after seconds of just gazing at each other lovingly passes. “I know you’re doing it for our vacation, anyway.”

 Chan lets out a small laugh as you fix the cap back on his head. “It’s just two days, baby.” 

 “Two days of sleeping, eating, and maybe some sex? I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a heavenly vacation to me.” You babble unashamedly, hands sliding down Chan’s torso to massage his pecs— making him squirm and laugh— before you slide them up again to massage his shoulder joints. 

 Chan sighs as he lets the feeling of your fingers relieving the aches wash over him, but then he catches sight of the mess of papers on his desk, and a frustrated frown replaces his smile.

 “Will you wait for me?” Chan asks hopefully. Though deep inside, he kind of already knew the answer.

 Still, his heart starts to beat too fast and his stomach fills with too many butterflies when you wrap your arms around his neck again, pressing your cheek against Chan’s own as you mutter, “of course. You know I always will.”

 And then you seal the promise with a kiss. Chan pretends he doesn’t chase after your lips when you pull away.

 He goes back to work with you still wrapped around him, and after a few moments, you start to shift. Chan’s free hand quickly darts up to your arms that are slowly loosening, so you stay still, alarmed. 

 “Stay.” Chan mumbles distractedly, eyes darting hurriedly across the papers. It’s selfish, yes, making you stand behind him for God knows how long, but Chan had always worked better when you were this close. 

 You would have seen the embarrassed blush that dotted across Chan’s cheeks if you weren’t so flustered yourself, hiding your face in Chan’s shoulder blades again when you fail to suppress a wide grin. 

 So you busy yourself with basking in Chan’s warmth instead, squeezing Chan tight every once in a while just to see him squirm and attempt to glare at you. 

 Suddenly, all your sore muscles from dancing were gone, and you were content to stand behind your boyfriend for as long as he wanted you to. 

 When Chan is finally finished and you’ve shut off all the lights, locked the door and gathered all your belongings— Chan throws an arm around your shoulder while you wrap your own arm around your boyfriend’s waist. 

 You both giggle, talk in stage whispers, and stumble down the corridor like drunken fools despite being completely sober. You hold onto each other like it was your last time to do so, as if you were reassuring yourselves that the other is still there.

 For extra measure, Chan presses his lips against your temple, whispering a sweet “I love you, Y/N. So so, so much.” that only the two of you could hear as you go out into the cold night, wrapped in each other’s warmth. 

 The streetlights look like stars in his eyes, and you ask yourself again how lucky you are to have fallen in love with Bang Chan.

Saturday - 2:54 pm

 3:16 am, you and Chan are pressed against each other as you settle into a deep sleep, blankets tucked around your bodies to shield yourselves from the cold. 

 4:23 am, you accidentally kick the blanket off the bed, leaving the both of you exposed to the cold temperature of the room. You shiver in your sleep. 

 Chan wakes up long enough to grumble about the blanket and do a half assed search around the room, just to end up pulling you closer to his chest and wrap both his arms around you. It doesn’t do much for Chan himself, but you stop shivering then, so Chan falls back asleep with a smile on his face.

 8:44 am, Chan’s phone rings. The ringtone almost rivals Chan’s snores, and the combination of the two sounds force you to wake up, annoyed. Chan was in the middle of the bed, arms and legs splayed out, while you were on top of him, cheek pressed against his chest. 

 You only have the energy to lift your head up, glare at the sun peeking from behind the curtain and at Chan’s phone, before you drop your head back on Chan’s chest heavily, startling the said boy awake. 

 Chan stops mid snore and the sound is so funny that you feel a smile tug on your lips, but then his  phone rings again.

 “Yah, Chan-ah,” you whine, wiggling upwards to bury your face in Chan’s neck. “Make it stop.”

 “Sorry babe,” Chan groans, trying to blink the sleep away from his eyes as he cups the back of your head. His free hand reaches for his phone on the nightstand, pressing it to his ear after 3 sad attempts of hitting the answer button. 

 Your hearing is muffled because of your position and Chan’s hand covering your head, and you only manage to hear a “no, no, we can’t, we’re sleeping in. Sorry Bin,” before you drown out the conversation entirely, the vibrations of Chan’s voice lulling you back to sleep. 

 Finally, at 2:54 pm, you wake up again, but this time you’re really awake. 

 Your stomach is grumbling and you’re so hungry it‘s starting to hurt. You try to move, but find yourself unable to because of the limbs restricting from doing so.

 This time, one of Chan’s legs is on top of you, covering your lower half entirely. Chan’s head is lying on the pillow, and there’s drool on his chin and it’s gross, so you use the sleeve of your shirt to wipe it quickly. Thankfully he didn’t drool on your hair.

 Chan’s holding your other arm to his own chest as if it was a teddy bear, his body curled into your side snugly. When you lean back slightly to take a proper look at him, Chan’s nose twitches like a rabbit and the grip on your arm tightens. You snort.

 “Chan. Channie,” you mutter before you bury your face in Chan’s hair, squeezing the sleeping boy in an attempt to wake him up gently. 

 Chan lets out a grunt, but doesn’t do much to prove he’s really awake. You sigh. 

 What the hell are you supposed to do now?

 It takes you more than a few attempts, but you finally release your arm from Chan’s grip. However, just when you were about to start working on his leg, Chan suddenly slips his own arm under you, turning you over so you end up on top of him again. He does it so easily that it startles you, cheeks burning red at the sudden display of strength.

 “It’s our day off, give me one more hour.” Chan grumbles. He was still half asleep so most of his sentence was incoherent, but if anyone was an expert in sleepy Chan language, it was you.

 You glance at the wall clock on the other side of the room, grimacing once you realize why you were starving. “Shit. We really wasted the whole day away by sleeping, dude. It’s 3 pm.”

 “Stop calling me dude.” He huffs. “And it’s a vacation, Y/N. Let me sleep. Let us sleep.” 

 You pout when you get your own words thrown back at you, and then it’s as if Chan has a sixth sense for your pouting, because he’s suddenly lifting his head up to press a kiss to your chin, eyes still closed.

 You’re guessing he was aiming for your lips, but he was fighting a hard battle between properly kissing you and falling back asleep. It was endearing.

 “Love you,” Chan mutters groggily, and was about to drop his head back on the pillow when you stop him with a proper kiss to the lips. It’s a very awkward angle, but you both blush and giggle as if it’s your first kiss.

 “Mmmmhm,” Chan pulls away after a few seconds of close mouthed kisses, eyes now blinking open as he frowns at you. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.”

 You giggle, leaning up on your elbows to take a proper look at him, heart squeezing at the way his lips were pouted. His bed head looked like a bird’s nest and his eyes were swollen. You couldn’t resist pressing another peck to his lips at the sight.

 “But I just did.” You grin, cupping Chan’s cheek as you press small, rapid kisses on his face. “Besides, it’s afternoon.”

 Chan rolls his eyes, pretending as if he wasn’t chasing your lips with every kiss. And you giggle again, because you were giddy that Chan is finally awake and you were in love with him, and those two don’t really connect, but whatever. 

 Barely a minute passes before Chan’s eyes start to slip shut again, and it’s only then that you realize you’ve been running your hand through your boyfriend’s hair unconsciously.

 “The day’s over, anyway,” Chan places a hand at the back of your head, gently leading you to his neck. He presses a kiss to your forehead then yawns, fingernails scratching your scalp gently to lure you into going back to sleep. “Let’s just stay in bed.”

 And you, you were so tempted to say yes, especially with how warm and comfortable you were in the love of your life’s arms, but then your stomach starts to wail like a dying animal, and both you and Chan wince.

 “Chan-“

 “I heard it.”

 You laugh, a loud, refreshing sound that makes Chan’s heart pump wildly, and you feel his lips form into a smile when he presses a kiss to your forehead again, longer this time.

 Chan then wraps both of his arms around your waist, turning you both over to the side. Your arms come up to lock around Chan’s neck, and your eyes meet when you look up. 

 Chan’s eyes were twinkling, and you’re not so sure if it’s because of the light behind you.

 “Hello,” Chan says casually, and you make a sound between huffing and laughing.

 “Will you at least let me go so I can make breakfast?”

 “It’s already afternoon,” Chan half-heartedly reasons, his arms tightening around you as he leans down to press another kiss to your nose.

 “Breakfast time is any time. Whoever thinks otherwise should be jailed.” 

 Chan ignores you, busy pressing a few more pecks to your cheeks, nudging your nose with his own. 

 You whine. “Come on, baby. You need to eat. I know you’re hungry too.”

 And Chan is, but he doesn’t want to leave the bed yet. He’s not pouting, he swears he isn’t, but he knows he’s making a face because you were smiling all amusedly at him again, like you were surprised he was acting this way.

 Who could blame him, really? He had a whole day off, a beautiful girl in his arms, and unlimited kisses to give and receive. Why would he leave this warm bubble without a fight?

 Chan tightens his grip and rolls again, and you were getting out of breath from laughing and trying to push him away. Your boyfriend pins you down on the bed, holding your hands above your head and intertwining your fingers together.

 “Hello,” Chan says again, grinning down at your flushed face.

 The sudden displays of strength kept catching you off guard, and your face was reddening for a multitude of reasons.

 “Hi,” you reply, albeit breathlessly, and you tilt your head up as a way of asking for a kiss. 

 Chan leans down slowly, too slowly for your liking, so you groan loudly. Chan laughs but finally presses your lips together, subconsciously loosening his grip on your hands. You free them from his grasp to cup his cheeks. 

 You can feel Chan smile against your own lips, and you only go as far as nibbling on the other’s bottom lip before you decide something and push him back.

 “Y/N,” Chan whines, chasing after you again, but you stop him with a finger to his chest and a quick peck to the lips. He stops, clearly confused.

 You push him back further, making him fall onto his side. He seems to catch on when you start straddling him, knees on other sides of his hips.

 “Oh.” Chan gapes, eyes blinking up at you stupidly. You laugh.

 “Yeah, oh.” 

 You drag the hem of his shirt up, deliberately scratching your nails against the hard muscles of his abs. Chan groans at that, hips bucking up involuntarily.

 As he busies himself with taking his shirt off properly, you start to press open mouthed kisses down his chest, tongue laving against the prominent lines of his stomach. You start sucking near the navel, leaving a big, deep purple hickey that contrasts heavily against his pale white skin.

 Chan hadn’t said anything since you started, but he was leaning back on his elbows, dark eyes following your every move. You felt the way his eyes followed the curve of your body as you adjusted to kneeling so you could move further down, making you shiver. It was almost like he was touching you with how intense his stare was. But his hands stayed at his sides, calm and waiting to strike.

 You knew that would change soon.

 There was already a noticeable bulge by the time you got down to his crotch, making you bite back a smile. You know Chan could feel your amusement because he uses his feet to tickle you at your side, making you laugh.

 “Get on with it, pretty.” His tone was playful, but his hooded eyes were saying otherwise.

 You listened obediently though, because at the end of the day, all you really wanted was to be good for Chan. All you wanted was to pleasure him, to make him feel good, to let him know that you wanted him to be happy. 

 And if a mindblowing orgasm from a morning wood blowjob was the way to success… well.

 You don’t waste any time in taking off his boxers, desperate to see the cock you loved. It wasn’t a secret that you were a bit of a cockslut, but it was technically Chan’s fault. When he slid his cock in you the first time and made you cum so hard you almost passed out, you were ruined for anybody else ever.

 You loved him inside you, loved him pounding so deep into you you felt the head of his cock in your cervix, and also loved him when he took it slow and let you feel every inch— every vein that lined along his fat cock. You loved when you were at his mercy.

 But you also loved when you had that same cock in your mouth, filling you all the way to your throat. You were guessing you had a bit of an oral fixation, since sometimes you craved the weight of it at random times of the day. You just wanted his cock in your mouth, and you knew Chan was more than happy to oblige.

 Chan’s sizeable cock slapped up against his stomach when you finally took away its confines, precum smearing against his skin. Chan’s fingers tighten against the sheets when you lean forward and kitten-licked that same precum off, his cock bumping against your cheek.

 “Baby,” he exhaled, brows furrowing. “Are you playing games right now?”

 “No,” you answer, but as soon as the word left your mouth, you flattened your tongue and licked a thick stripe up at the side of his cock, making Chan groan and throw his head back.

 You swirl your tongue around the angry purple tip of his cock, letting his precum coat your tongue. But you don’t swallow it, not yet. You let the liquids fall back onto his cock, using it as lubricant for your hand that comes up to stroke him. 

 Chan grunted, bucking up into the tight space of your hand as his head lolled forward. He watches you with lidded eyes, and you tilt your head so he could feel the hot exhale of your breath on his cock. Predictably, you felt it twitch.

 A hand comes to cup the back of your head, and you look up through your lashes to see Chan licking his lips and swallowing. 

 “Come on,” he urges, hand sliding down to tilt your head up. He slides his thumb into your mouth and your lips close around it immediately, sucking. Chan shudders. “Be good for me.”

 And you obey.

 As soon as Chan’s thumb slipped out of your mouth, you replaced it with his cock, tongue flattening as you took half of him in your mouth. Your lips stretched obscenely, Chan’s girth and length stretching your mouth to its limits. 

 But instead of deterring you, it only made you moan. You already felt so full even if you hadn’t taken his entire cock in your mouth yet, almost gagging when you felt the tip nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes flick up, watching as Chan’s jaw tightened, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

 You bob your head up and down slowly, understanding that Chan was letting you take the lead. His hand stayed cupped at the back off your head, a reassuring constant as you did your best to breathe through your nose. 

 The slick sounds your mouth was making echoed along with Chan’s muttered curses in your quiet room, the only other sound being the traffic outside.

 “Shit. Shit,” Chan exhaled, chest heaving. He was always much more sensitive in the morning. “Your mouth, baby. That fucking mouth.”

 And much more noisier.

 “So good for me.” Chan whispers, voice rough and heated. He brushes the back of his hand against your hollowed cheeks, then cards his fingers through your hair so he could see your face properly. “Look at you, my cock in your mouth first thing in the morning. What a sight.”

 You moan at his words, and the vibrations that come from your throat make him twitch in your mouth. Chan refrains from bucking his hips, but he slips up sometimes when gets too lost in the pleasure. There’s an apology on his lips every time, but you shut him up quickly with a harsh suck to his throbbing cock.

 You know he’s close when the twitching gets more frequent and his thighs start tensing around your head, his hand going from tugging on your hair instead of just resting there. Chan gets quieter as well, his nasty praises trailing off to grunts and broken moans.

 Your jaw was aching, but the quiet gasps of your name spurs you on more than you’d like to admit. Because as much as you loved to be under Chan’s mercy, something about him losing his mind over your mouth and saying your name like it was his last prayer did things to you. The slick heat between your legs reminded you of it.

 His pleasure was your pleasure.

 You’re forcibly pulled off when Chan tugs your head back, and you’re just about to complain when Chan suddenly sits up and grabs his cock with his free hand, keeping the tip of it in your mouth. 

 “Look at me.” He hisses, and you obey immediately. 

 You look up at him through your lashes, suckling at the head of his cock as much as he let you. He jerks himself off quickly, using your spit as lube and groaning at the lewd sight of your lips wrapped around him and the feeling of your tongue insistently brushing against the underside of his cock.

 “I’m gonna cum, baby, shit-“ he grunts through gritted teeth, and you squirm as you watch his abs and arms flex with each movement. 

 Chan had his head thrown back now, sweat dripping down his throat and his pale skin reddening as he got closer and closer to his release. 

 “I’m gonna cum in this pretty mouth. This perfect mouth, only mine to use, hm? Just mine and mine alone, fuck- god, fuck!“

 You tug Chan’s hand away and swallow his cock down your mouth again as soon as the first spurt of his cum hits your tongue, making him flinch. 

He’s clearly torn between tugging your head away due to  the oversensitivity, or pushing his cock farther down your mouth. His hand flexes in your hair, unsure of what to do. 

 You decide for him.

 Your throat works against him, struggling to swallow his cum and keep his cock in your mouth at the same time. You were determined to milk his whole orgasm out of him, and you weren’t going to stop until he was dry and shaking. The moans Chan lets out this time are almost close to whimpers as he falls back against the mattress, hips bucking uselessly. 

 “Y/N,” he whines, gasping for breath, and you rub your hands up and down his hips to ground him. You clean him up slowly, aware that the oversensitivity must be bordering on pain now.

 Chan groans, arms coming up to hide his reddened face.  “Baby, enough, please. Come here, come up, I want a kiss. Please.”

 You bite back a smile as you pull off his cock, sucking one last hickey to his navel and reveling in his stuttered moan. You crawl up the bed slowly, kissing the exposed part of Chan’s chin; the only area that wasn’t covered by his arms.

 “Good?” You ask, sitting on his stomach now.

 “Good?” He squawks, disbelief written all over his face when he pulls his arms away. His face was still red, as well as the upper parts of his chest. “Good?! You- god, I can’t believe you. Come here, you little minx.”

 He growls, pulling you into a bruising kiss. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks again, moaning as he bit on your lips and sucked on your tongue like a starving man. Chan’s hands grope your breasts through your shirt, thumbing your slowly hardening nipples and making you squirm. 

 When he pulls away from the kiss and trails his lips down your neck, his hands move lower as well. He hooked his thumbs in your shorts, one second from pulling them down and having his way with you. But-

 Speaking of starving.

 “Channie,” you whine, stopping his hands. He freezes immediately, pulling back to look at you. Concern was written all over his face, and you would have cooed if you didn’t have more pressing matters at hand. 

 You frowned. “I’m really hungry.”

 Chan gapes at you, stunned. He blinks rapidly, eyes going from your frowning face to his hands by your shorts. “I- are you- do you not want me to return the favor? You just gave me the best orgasm of my life.”

 You snort, knowing he was exaggerating, but Chan looked dead serious. You roll your eyes then, locking your lips in a heated kiss again for a few seconds to satiate your needy boyfriend. You keep your forehead pressed together when you pull back slightly to look in his dazed eyes, still filled with want. 

 You drag the tip of your index finger across his lip, smirking. “I’ll make you a deal. If you put some food in my stomach, I promise I’ll let you fuck me six ways to sunday.” You grind down, making him hiss. “It’s been too long since you made me cry, no?”

 Chan’s eyes darkened. You licked your lips.

 But then, the next thing you know, the world was upside down, and you were being carried outside your bedroom over your boyfriend’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 “Bang Chan!” You squeak, heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Put me down, you crazy idiot! What the hell are you doing!”

 “Putting some food in your stomach.” Chan replied simply, like that was the answer to all your questions. “No take backs.”

 You pause for a second, then find yourself laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Chan was still naked. You smack his ass repeatedly, making him yelp on the way to the kitchen. 

 “You’re insane.” You laugh as he finally sets you down on the kitchen counter, wrapping your arms around his neck when he squeezes himself in between your thighs.

 “You love me.” He giggles, looking too smug for your own liking. But then his face softens, and you blink in surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your lips,

 then your nose,

 then your forehead,

 then your lips again.

 “And I love you . More than anything.”

 It’s the softest kiss you’ve shared since you woke up, and that was saying something. You look up at Chan, dazed at the sudden switch of mood. He was looking at you tenderly, eyes twinkling as he smiled, dimples popping out.

 Your heart pounded in your chest again, beating so hard you felt like it was going to come out of you. You love him. You were so in love with Bang Chan that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life in his arms, just like this. Always.

 “Now,” Chan grinned wide, stepping back as he clapped his hands twice. He was looking very determined, arms crossed and bulging over his chest as he looked around the kitchen. 

 Your eyes meet, and your breath catches in your throat when he smirks.

 “Time to fulfill my part of the deal so we can get on with yours.”

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