#but the way it's made... it's so over the top it doesn't feel real anymore

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[machidielontheway]

finishing watching Damsel (netflix) and hmmm... i have a LOT of things to say, but you know what ? i don't want to spend 20mn writing all of this. so basically. the premise is quite good. the first part is different than what i expected and not my kind, but it's quite entertaining. there is one thing that to my tastes was VERY VERY GOOD (victoria&all.... <3). and then it all became garbage lol ok not garbage, but just disappointing in how it' sooo heavy handed. like girl power fantasy ok we get it but if it still somehow ends male fantasy visually speaking... and it increases exponentially to the end. the actress is quite good in the first bit (it feels like the line directive of the first part flew out of the window in the second) but in the second everything is just sooo caricatural it ruins everything. ideas good, execution bad. this is my own opinion based on my tastes and needs and i understand i can feel empowering or freeing for other peeps. it certainly did not for me. anyways. it's entertaining i guess !

#3615 my life #screams i want to write it all but i also don't #if you have seen it and feel like you're on the same vibe and want to chat... i'm here. #the sword put in the scabbard killed me tbh. #the second part is so disappointing ! it could have been so good !! #like the ideas are good #but the way it's made... it's so over the top it doesn't feel real anymore #at the end #but mostly what i really disliked was how she was still very much 'an attractive woman' #the way she walk at the end is CATWALKING. it's not confident walking or queen walking. #its goddamn catwalking. and i dislike we finally got a lady who gets gritty and clothes torn and end up like she's on grunge fashion style #like yes yes i get it. symbolism cool wardrobe etc etc i AGREE with this. #but i'm tired of lady character always having to look good even when they're 'not' #to my own needs and tastes it's not the liberation it can be - i guess - for other girl people #also the end is very jurassic parc. in the dumbest way possible. one of the new ones #it felt much more empowered when her deconstructed wardrobe didn't look like it was thought of to be 'the coolest and attractivest' #edited 3 times sigh please come talk to me about this

[riality-check]

DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

#ria writes #dilf and concert #d&c au #steddie #steddie ficlet #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #rockstar eddie munson #dilf steve harrington

[angelltheninth]

Genshin Men Doing You Better Then Your Ex

Pairing: Itto, Xiao, Childe, Pantalone, Dottore, Tighnari, Cyno, Al-Haitham, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, gentle sex, bragging, mentioned knotting (Tighnari) clit stimulation, mating mark, biting, mentioned ex-boyfriend

A/N: Written for @tinyyellowtoad!

Itto doesn't just make sure to fuck you better then your ex, he knows he can do that, its not even a challenge, but he also marks you, not with his cum, but with his fangs. He's pulling you back onto his huge cock even as he's coming inside your pussy, sending splashes of cum flying, dripping down your thighs, already marked with bites. The real bite though is when he pushes your head to the side just before his last and by far strongest orgasm, making you clench and gush around his cock.

Xiao isn't much of a show off when it comes to sex but he is when comparing himself to your bad ex. Pretty easy for him to get angry at the fact that your ex didn't treat you right, in bed or otherwise so he tends to remedy that. In a sense he is showing off, but only to you, in the way he smiles at you when you bend your back or squeeze your thighs around his head while he's licking tiny circles on your clit, sucking on the little bud and laying the flat of his tongue over it while you reach your peak.

Childe lets his competitive streak get the better of him when he has sex with you. A part of him almost wants to track your ex down and fuck you in front of him just to prove that he's doing it better every single night. But he also knows that the guy isn't worth your presence anymore. You're too good for that guy, but you're perfect for Childe. Every time he his tip pushes against the entrance to your womb he sees the pleasure in your face, he hears you moaning his name and he knows that he is better, that he is the winner, that he is making you feel the best.

Pantalone wants to hear you saying his name over and over, he wants you to tell him, no to yell, to shout to anyone who can hear, how good you're feeling when he's bouncing you on top of his cock. His smooth, calm voice is constantly in your ear, telling you to reach down and touch your clit for him, show him, every bit of yourself, let him see what makes you feel good, what makes you go insane so he can replicate it and make sex even better next time. He wants you to know that this is about you, that you matter to him, that your pleasure takes priority to his, therefore he will always make you come first.

Dottore treats you like his pretty new prize. You get all of his attention, all of his praise and admiration until he gets tired of you. Which won't be for a very long time if your pussy is anything to go by. Your ex didn't fuck you like this, he knows because he made your him spill the details of it. So now he can make it better for you, he can show you all the ways in which he is better then him. He can make you come, he can make you squirt, he can make you forget that you've ever been with anyone else but him and he will make it so you never want to be with anyone else ever again.

Tighnari tries to get ahold of himself when he realizes that your ex didn't treat you all that well but he just can't hold back the anger. Not towards you, never, to you he will make sure that he is the best and most gentle lover you've ever had. He will spend hours sliding his dick in and out, the knot pushing against but not past your entrance, edging himself deliberately because he wants to be able to give you his all when you tell him he can, when you're ready to take every last bit of his cock and cum.

Cyno can't stop bragging about fucking you better then your ex. Oh no to others, he's not that kind of man, but he wants to make sure you know he knows that he's better. In reality he's looking for affirmation and praise from you, your cunt being sopping wet around him just isn't enough. Yes it feels good but he wants you to tell him just how good it feels. Loves to see it too, your pretty flustered expression, mouth stained with cum drops from earlier and you reaching out for him to hold him closer while he pumps his cum into your pussyhole.

Al-Haitham wants to know every single position your ex fucked you in so that he can fuck you better. Part of it is his competitive streak but a larger part is him wanting to replace those bad sex experiences with good ones. One of his favorite parts of it is knowing very clearly, if your walls being so tight around his length is anything to go by, that you're feeling euphoric from it. When you bend over, present, spread your pussy open and let the cum flow from your pussy while still begging for another round, or two, he knows he's done his job right.

Zhongli gets surprisingly possessive over you when he meets your ex. He's usually not so rough with you when you have sex but something about seeing the man he knows made you feel bad in bed sets him off into a frenzy. His hips keep smacking into yours at inhuman speed, he keeps hissing and growling into your ear, cursing himself that he didn't find you sooner, make you happier sooner. But he can fix it, he loves you more then anything and he wants you to live your best life with him. He will make any wish you have come true.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #itto x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #pantalone x reader #dottore x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #al haitham x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact smut #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin smut #itto smut #xiao smut #childe smut #pantalone smut #dottore smut #tighnari smut #cyno smut #al haitham smut #zhongli smut

[sugoi-writes]

In Every Sense - Part 2 to Scent Kink!Alastor x Reader

It's heeeeerrreeee~ Here are some warnings: we get some internal monolgues of Alastor hopelessly trying to seduce you, oral (f!receiving), light man-handling, begging, and some really just... absolutely raunchy filth. Please enjoy~ (please note, this is still overwhelmingly inspired by @hazelfoureyes so please please GO READ HAZEL'S CONTENT. IM BEGGING YOU. ITS SO JUICY)

Right. Where was he? Oh yes... this mess.

Alastor straightened himself out quickly, mess of his clothing and floor included. Your clothes, however, were discarded to his bed... probably never to be washed again.

After he freshed up, his eyes scanned and paused in his armoire mid-search. His taloned hands brushed against a silk top... not one of his preferred fabrics, but one he could certainly pull off. His fingers danced on it a moment more, before deciding it was worth changing it up.

Black, lattice-patterned top and tailored, wine red trousers... simple, but classy, right? As he tossed around the idea of a belt, he decided to skip that step. It would make the process of settling between your sweat-covered thighs take an eternity too long. That is... if he didn't devour you first.

Alastor threw his casual fit together, opting to keep his pointed, black dress a part of the ensemble. But should he try boots...? Would that be too much? Maybe it would be easier to kick off...?

He wondered over to his personal liquor cabinet, pouring himself a whiskey. He needed to get a pep in his step and to still his rambling thoughts. Though he usually preferred to take things slower, savoring the bite of liquor on his tongue... He instead took it as a shot, hardly reacting to the harsh intake. His shoulders hunched, huffing as he turned to look in the mirror. How ridiculous he must've looked...

Hair disheveled... eyes half lidded. His hands were sweating, the loose blouse serving as a juxtaposition to his too-tight pants. Maybe his shirt should be tucked? No, that'd look stupid without a belt...

How strange it was for him to fret... at least, fret over impressing another person. Moreover, trying to impress someone he pined for. He almost loathed the way you made him feel, and how his core seemed to clench everytime you walked by... but, there was no room for doubt now: he would make you answer for his obsessions tonight. Surely you would take responsibility, wouldn't you...?

Alastor's head shook, before he opted to tuck half of his shirt in. He saw this often in modern fashion, targeting the front corner of the shirt to show off or bring attention to his thigh and... well-- downstairs.

He quirked a brow, intrigued with this look. It was... messy. Not the neat-and-narrow hes accustomed to. And in a way, he quite liked it. Maybe with the disheveled top, your eyes would be distracted enough to be drawn below the belt...?

Hah, what a pun. It doesn't work anymore if you don't have a belt, right?

Alastor chuckled, absolutely tickled by the thought. Alastor pulled out a wine-colored blazer, which perfectly complimented his pants. Can't be too prepared for the hellish night, right? He paused, walking over to your discarded top again for one final sniff; one final tease before the real thing. He shuddered at the thought, already feeling a light twitch coming from below. 

With a resolute nod, he walks out from his room, heading towards the lobby. Maybe you would be retired for the night? Maybe he could catch you before your evening shower... He sought you out, his nose steering the way as his thoughts swam with visions of you. He would have you tonight, he thought, his hands summoning and twirling his microphone with a prideful flourish.

--

You hadn't known how it got to this point. You hadn't known how much liquor both you and Alastor had drunk, round for round... but, Alastor's plan managed to work. He caught up with you, just before you were retiring for the night... and now, you did manage to head to bed... just the wrong one.

You yelped as you were slammed against his bedroom door, hands flying to grip the collar of his shirt. The passion of his kiss made you weak, his own knees buckled. Your sounds mirrored the other's, hips rolling in tandem as the heat between your bodies danced and mingled with one another. Alastor was already getting carried away, hands grabbing at everything he could touch... your cheek, your ass, your waist... He needed more. He needed you to be absolutely bothered and sweating.

Alastor pulled away, licking a long, wet trail from your collar bone to your ear. You trembled as ghost-like kisses were placed along your jaw, pleased sigh his reward. Your head tilted back and to the side, allowing better access to the longing demon.

"Ahh-- Alastor!"

His name fell from your lips, bruised and hanging agape as your breath came out in labored puffs. Alastor groaned, eyelids fluttering as he inhaled once more. A shaky sigh soon followed, making your thighs clench together. He licked at the sweat that ran down your neck, swirling his tongue before kissing there again.

More... he needed more of this.

No words were exchanged as his lips wandered lower, your clothing coming down and off with his lecherous journey. You could only cradle and grab at his hair, trying to slow or stop his descent when he would kiss a particularly gratifying area... but your eyes widened as his kisses lingered on your lower abdomen. Your eyes met his candy apple reds, swirling with lust and intrigue.

"Mon cher, I simply cannot bear to wait... I must have you." He couldn't contain his raspy sigh as he took your pants off, sliding them down your trembling legs. You'd be lucky to have these clothes back after this night...

Once you were bare before him, he kissed at your mound, the smell of your hormones and sweat making his brow furrow with desire. His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull as you moaned, nodding feverishly," I-I... I don't-- fuck, Al... Don't stop..."

Al looked firmly at you, mouth hanging open, but not coming closer. You huffed, trembling as your cheeks flush.

"... Pl-please... keep going... I want this."

Alastor smiled up at you, toothy grin absolutely drunk with adoration as he lowered his head. He spread your legs apart, arms moving to lift you. You were pushed up until you sat upon his shoulders, suspended a few inches off the ground. You were shaking at the realization of how powerful he was; how easily he was able to sustain you with just his shoulders. It was a strength that made your abdominals clench in anticipation.

The moment his tongue ran up your slit, you saw the light, eyes widening from the feeling of his warm muscle. Alastor grunted as he started to gently lap at your core. Finally: something that distracted him from how divinely you smelt...

Now he had a new muse (and problem) to keep him up at night... the taste of your arousal.

Like a man starved, he began to lavish you earnestly, hands trapping your thighs around his head. He showed you no mercy as his tongue alternated between stimulating your clit and delving into your relaxed hole. You convulsed with his minstrations, one hand stabilizing you against the door while the other gripped an antler for deer dear life. You soon found your hips rolling into his face, his nose brushing your clit with every thrust. Your head collided with the door as your moans transformed into animalistic whines and huffs, unable to control the ravenous sounds he tore from you. Alastor wasnt any more refined, hungry like a tramp in heat.

His expression shook and strained with pure bliss as he took you in whole: touch, sight, sounds, scent, and taste. This truly was the thing that he needed most; to seek you in your entirety. He knew now that he needed to own your body by ways of physical desire and passion... something he only became keenly aware of recently.

Now, even if your soul would so pretty under his grasp... this seemed to outweigh that desire. This was the ultimate way to both have you, and for you to tie a metaphorical leash around his neck. He hadn't fully realized it, but he was completely and utterly yours, and after this display, you'd surely have him the same way...

His dignity be damned. You were too sweet to resist.

You held his fringe out of his face as Alastor groaned with every flick of his tongue, vibrations sending your nerves into overdrive. His movements, his reactions, and his blatant obsession with your scent had you seeing stars. You ground your face harder into Alastor's obedient tongue, forcing his inhales to be rapid and short. Had he breathed any harder, one would speculate he was panicking. But ahh, what a way to die again, but by your thighs and eager cunt...

"Sh-Shit-- Alastor I'm-- fuck, y-you're too-- Hah!"

Alastor's cock twitched and strained, unable to be freed as your noises grew in tempo and pitch: you were nearing your climax.

Yes.

Yes, cum on him; cum on his face.

He wanted to see your mouth hang open in a silent wail, riddled with ecstacy. He wanted to feel your legs snap his neck from the force of your grip. He wanted to taste the arousal on his tongue as it multiplied. And most importantly... he wanted to be fully engulfed in your scent as your cunt rode his tongue... At this rate, he would be making another mess tonight.

He would never wash his shirt again, aware of the cum dripping down onto the collar of his dress shirt... a notion that nearly made him squirm. Maybe he could convince you to let him keep your outfit, as a token of tonight's debauchery?

He had no more time to think as your orgasm overcame you. Both hands held his antlers as your frantically ground into his mouth, practically suffocating him as you sprayed his jaw with your release. Alastor could only take it, choking and sputtering but absolutely living in the moment. His eyes were fully rolled back, schelaras devoured by a deep, pitch color.

When oversensitivity started to make you quiver, you pulled away, utterly satisfied. Your hands went to smooth out Alastor's scrunched-up hair as he panted. You gave it a playful ruffle, apologetic for your behavior. You smile breathlessly down to the overwhelmed demon, about to thank him... Then, a shrill scream is ripped from your throat. Alastor's seering, hot tongue is on your clit again, hands digging in to the plush of your thighs.

"Mmph... more-- Please, let me have more, cher... need it-- need you!"

You whined as Alastor's pleas fell unto eager ears, head lolling. Alastor's tongue began to awaken a new vigor in you. You were more than happy to please the starved man below you... Maybe next time, you'd tie him up in your clothes, leaving him unable to do anything but take your passion, in every sense of the word...

#alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fic #radio demon #alastor radio demon #ANYWAAAAAYYYYS hope this made you squirm too! #hahah... hah. i need an ice bath

[bluecollarmcandtf]

My Found Family

I never grew up with the luxury of family. As an orphan, my childhood was lacking to say the least, and it left me jealous of any kid with caring fathers and siblings. That's why I had to find my family. Nobody's perfect, but with a little reconditioning, I've trained them to be exactly what I was looking for.

This guy is now my father...

"Breakfast is ready, boys!" I call, using my lower register like I'm supposed to, "Whoops! I mean bacon-fest!"

Guttural laughter comes from my stomach even though I don't find my joke that funny. Bad jokes like this have sort of become my personality lately. In fact, my whole life has transformed over the last couple days. A week ago, I would've never imagined myself strolling around my house in nothing but underwear and a robe! My standards for style seem to have vanished along with pretty much every other part of my old way of being.

It happened three days ago at a grocery store, when I ran into this guy in the produce section. He caught me examining avocados for ripeness and walked right up, beginning to talk like we'd known each other for years.

It was all a bit bizarre, but I found myself unable to turn away. He was explaining my life to myself. Well, not my life, but the one he wanted me to live, the one I was meant to live, and I hung on his every word. He was maybe six years younger than myself, but I was to be his new daddy. It was a role I was proud to fill.

"Here you are, son," I grin widely, unable to contain the feelings of pride I have as he walks into the room.

"Thanks, old man," he answers and grabs the plate gratefully.

For a moment, I stand there and stare. My heart beats for my boy as he tears apart the food I made for him. My paternal instincts have been working overtime lately. I can't help but love that boy with every fatherly fiber of my being.

It doesn't matter that I never wanted kids before. Previously, I'd wanted to remain a bachelor forever, but I have them now, and it couldn't feel more perfect.

With a content grin, I turn back to the sizzling bacon and think about my day. Things I used to hate were now what I looked forward to; mowing the lawn, washing the car, cleaning the gutters. I have a full day of work ahead of me to keep this house in tip top shape. Of course, I'll do it all with an ice cold beer in my hand. I never had a taste for the stuff, but my boy thinks I should grow a bit more of a gut.

I know what I say goes around here, but I could never say no to my favorite son...

I obviously have dad wrapped around my finger, but he's not the only member of this family. This next dude is my new big bro...

"Fuck yeah," I grunt and sniff up the ripe stench under my arm, "Smells like a real fuckin' man!"

I toss the barbell down, finishing a new personal record on the bench press and I couldn't feel more pumped. My tank top and sweat pants are drenched with sweat, but I love bein' a nasty gym rat: at least, I do now.

A week ago I was waiting tables at this fancy restaurant, when one of the customers got to talking with me. He was sitting alone and looked kinda sad, so I tried to be friendly and I'm sure glad I did! I got a whole new family out of it. He made me quit my job and move into this sweet place. Now I'm his big brother!

Of course, like all big bro's, I'm supposed to work out in the garage all day. I was never one for weights, but I couldn't imagine my life without them anymore. I like to push my limits and get all hot and sweaty. Then I march around the house flexing and farting all over the place. It's not the most refined thing in the world, but my bro explained to me how much I don't care about hygiene and all that crap.

"Wassup, little man," I call as he saunters in.

"Nothing much," he answers, staring at my arms while I show off my biceps.

"Alright, get out of my space. I'm tryin' to work out," I snarl, acting as tough as possible, "Do I need to wrestle you again to prove my point?"

I definitely didn't used to be like this. I used to be the most polite and approachable guy in the world, always chatting random people up, but that guy's gone. My bro got rid of him and his old family. This new family is the only one I'm interested in now, even if I'm not supposed to show it. I'm supposed to be muscular, rude, and gross. It's who I am now.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he replies, "You can wrestle me though."

"I will," I frown, flexing even harder, "And this time, I'll win!"

Whenever we wrestle, I always end up with the urge to let him win. It sucks because I could easily beat him, and I should put him in his place, but for some reason, I just know I have to let him win. He just deserves it I guess.

I give him an intense glare and then return to my weights. These arms aren't going to pump themselves...

My big bro always makes my legs quiver, but I love seeing how cocky he can get. Of course, he'll never out wrestle me no matter how big he gets. I programmed him to let me win. Just like I programmed the breadwinner of the bunch...

A short groan rumbles from my lips. For some reason, everything has been disappointing me lately: my sons, my husband, my job has all been leaving me grumpy and frustrated. Even the channels on the TV aggravate the living hell out of me. I have to fight the urge to chuck the remote across the room.

"How was your day, honey," my husband asks, walking into the room and handing me a beer.

"Great," I moan without any emotion.

Everything's been changing so fast lately, and I couldn't be more over it. I was married to my work, busting ass for years to get promotion after promotion, and I had a job I loved that paid extremely well. I couldn't be more happy, even if I was the only unmarried guy in the office. I didn't mind. I loved my bowling league and my solo trips to Vegas too much to settle down.

Then I met him, my son. Well, he wasn't my son at the time, but after talking, I quickly realized who he was and who I was to him. I'm the head of the household, the disciplinarian, the breadwinner. At least, that's who I've become.

"What's for dinner?" I grunt, peeling my eyes away from the TV.

Looking at my husband, odd feelings bubble up. I used to know him as my neighbor, a nice enough guy, but now I'm married to him. It all happened so fast. He's changed too recently, I think. The guy I knew a week ago would've never walked around all day in a robe and underwear.

His hand reaches out and holds my own, "Steak and potatoes if that's alright with you."

I grunt in agreement, turning back to the TV. My husband's presence stirs my cock to life, straining my member against my work slacks.

This is another new development.

Until now, I'd never had a gay bone in my body. In some ways, I still don't, but my son explained how I should feel about my husband. I should love him, I should be turned on by him, and I should get it on with him. He's right, I suppose.

"Hey, I could use a blow job before you get cooking," I gesture to the thick tent in my pants.

My husband pauses for a moment like he's unsure of what to do, but then it comes to him, "Of course, babe, but we need to be quiet. Both of our boys are home right now."

"Don't worry about it. If they walk in without knocking they'll get the belt," I snort as my husband gets on his knees in front of me.

"You shouldn't be so hard on-" before he can finish, I've shoved his face into my crotch.

Somehow, I know I can be rough with him, just like I can be rough with our sons. I'm the man of the house after all. Within seconds I'm grunting in pleasure while staring at the evening news broadcast. For some reason, I always find myself watching it and complaining about current events. It's just who I am now..

I grin, sneaking a peak at my two dad's going at it in the living room like the good little couple they are. My new family couldn't be more perfect, but no family is complete without the dog...

"Ruff!" I bark, gleefully scampering over to the bowl of food that was just placed on the floor.

Without hesitating, I shove my face into the bowl, sending the little pellets flying everywhere. They taste like cardboard, but for some reason, I can't get enough of them! I've done nothing but drool and whine for the last hour while the real humans eat their dinner at the table.

"That's a good boy," a voice coos, and I feel fingers running through the hair on my head.

I can barely acknowledge being petted. I know I'm supposed to act like a hungry animal right now, so that's what I do.

I would've never thought I'd find myself as a house pet, but a couple days ago, this guy just walked up to me and talked me into it. It'd just been a normal day for me, working at the car garage when he became my master. I knew right there and then that I had to drop to my hands and knees and follow him home with my tongue out.

My new life has been great ever since. My masters play ball with me outside, they hose me down when I get muddy, and they snuggle with me on the couch at night. I barely even miss my old work and fiance!

"Alright, boy," one of my master's commands, "That's enough. Get in here!"

It's the mean one. The one who used to own this house, but is now just a working dad. He's always the one who hits me with a newspaper when I drink from the toilet. I don't know why, but I just feel compelled to do it!

Licking the bowl clean, I abandon it and crawl into the living room. There, the entire family is gathered around the television.

I stop by the smelly one and sneak in a few licks. I love licking him because he's always salty with sweat and smells funny. After licking his feet for too long, he kicks me away, "Leave me alone, mutt!"

"Oh don't talk to him that way," the nice one adds.

I climb on the couch and curl up beside him. His belly is always the perfect cushion for my head to rest on, and he always lets me lick his beer bottle when he's done. Within a couple minutes, I'm drifting off as his hands absently play with my hair...

...sitting with my family at night is always my favorite part. Watching TV with my two dads, brother, and dog heals the child in me that had always yearned for this. Sure, it might be easier to just go to therapy, but this is sure as hell a lot more fun!

#gay hypnosis #gay mind control #mind control #hypnotized #hypno story #gay ai art #male transformation

[wishluc]

Hello hello, may i request for yandere Diavolo OM where hes tightly hugging darling because he's afraid that they'll disappear? You feel his hands all over you body and he whispers how much he loves you while slowly crushing you body (accidentally)

✧ CW: yandere character, non-consensual hugging, non-consensual kissing, power imbalance in relationship

✧ PAIRING: Diavolo x GN! reader

You can't say no to Lord Diavolo.

He's always been kind to you, greeting you warmly, and offering to help make your stay more comfortable, but you've never realized just how hard it is to turn him down. You've become comfortable with agreeing with him, because all he ever asked of you before was if you'd like to show him around your hometown in the human world or if you'd like to join him for tea, or if you'd stay for a weekend in his place (and even then, he said it as though he wanted you to have a break from the chaos in the House of Lamentation and not for the real reason—that he wanted to monopolize your attention, if only for a few days).

But he's never been so...upfront about such an odd request. So when he called you to his office and abruptly wrapped his arms around you, you were at a loss for words. This was unfamiliar; Diavolo's affection had never gone past an occasional pat on the back and a warm smile. And he just doesn't let go.

He sighs against the top of your head and calls out your name softly, so only you could hear—like an intimate whisper, "why don't you stay here a little while longer?"

How did he expect you to respond when he had you in such a position? Your head was almost tucked into him, and your arms painfully stiff by your sides, caged by his own bigger ones. He didn't seem bothered by how rigid and inflexible you were, and not even by your lack of response, content with being able to hold you so close.

Any words you would have said would have been too muffled for him to hear, but you were already frozen in place, your mind racing and your head spinning. Could you deny him?

"Don't worry about the legalities of it all," he continues, "I could just as easily keep you in here with me if there's anything stopping my appeal. To be honest, I'd much rather it be that way—the brothers have had too much time with you since you've come here, and I don't want them taking any more."

A hand around you moves a little lower, and you're unable to breathe yet again. Sweat trails down your front as Diavolo brings you in even closer (if that was even possible). Where was this coming from?

Suddenly, he laughs, not the usually boisterous sound you're familiar with, but softer, and goes to place a soft kiss on your head, fondness clouding his voice, "I don't dislike them for all their antics, but I don't know if any of them know just how much I like you. It frustrates me endlessly to see them constantly all over you, smothering you, right in front of me. And if you were unaware, I hope I made things clear now. I love you."

Just when you thought things couldn't get worse, with a firm arm tightening its hold around you with the hand stroking your side, another finding purchase on the small of your back, and your body almost melting into his, he just had to drop a confession on you. A confession from the future king of the Devildom, the man who was overlooking your stay here, and the only one with the power to send you home—not that it seemed he wanted to anymore. Could you be honest with him? Could you tell him that you didn't feel the same and that you wanted to go home once it was all over?

Could you risk upsetting the man who was being so vulnerable with you right now? Especially when you were well aware of exactly what he didn't want to hear from you.

"I wanted to make this more romantic," he confessed, the hand at your back simultaneously rubbing circles and pressing you down into him, "I had it all planned out, but you'll be leaving in a week. I don't want you to go and leave me," the whisper of your name is heart-achingly tender, "I truly love you. More than you could imagine. More than I should. Won't you consider staying with me? I promise to keep you happy, even down here in the Devildom."

"If you miss the morning light of the human world, I'll find a way to bring it to you. If you want to meet your friends there, I'll take you myself. All I ask of you is to stay with me a little longer." The unspoken condition registers itself to you all the same—to reciprocate his love.

Your breathing stills for a moment when his grip suddenly tightens and he buries his face into your hair, kissing you over and over. It's almost too tight, but with his strength and size, any attempt at fighting back would have gone unnoticed. All you can do is wait for him to let go.

Just as you start feeling lightheaded, he pulls away and instead caresses your cheek with his hand, beaming down at you with that achingly familiar smile you had always trusted before swiftly pressing his lips onto yours. It was almost innocent, a quick peck—but you knew this was only him testing the waters.

"I'm so happy. I love you," he echoes the words again, though they no longer have an effect on you. The tips of your fingers and your tongue feels numb, and your head is heavy with sorrow. It doesn't escape you that you've yet to respond to any of his words or actions, that he doesn't care about how you feel. All of this was merely an illusion of you having a choice.

How did things turn out this way?

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

#[ahhh thank you for this!! i had so much fun writing it ♡] #[diavolo really grew on me] #yandere x reader #yandere obey me #yandere obey me shall we date #yandere obey me x reader #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #swd diavolo #diavolo x mc #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #yandere om swd #yandere obey me diavolo #yandere diavolo #yandere diavolo x reader #obey me drabble #yandere x reader drabble #yandere drabble #cw yandere #cw jealousy #cw noncon kissing #cw noncon hugging #asa.writes 🌀 #obey me. 🌀 #diavolo. 🌀 #requested work. 🌀 #drabble. 🌀 #drabble request v01. 🌀 #requests open

[zepskies]

Hey loved your Sam having a crush on Dean's gf! I was wondering if I could request the flipped version where Dean has a crush on Sam's gf 😏😏

Oh my God, hun! 🫢

The way I didn't even contemplate this!! But it's so delicious...

(And thank you for reading that Dean imagine! It was angsty, but oh so fun. 😘)

See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.

Word Count: 1,300

Imagine: Dean gives you an impossible choice.

Dean hates this. He hates it more than anything.

He hates the look of you, all soft curves and smiles that brighten your eyes. Your hair looks even softer.

(He wants to tangle his fingers in it, tight, until your voice echoes in his ear.)

He hates that you bake cookies on Saturdays. (He also hates that you're learning how to make pies, just because he mentioned off-handedly that you should try. If your snickerdoodles are this good, he can only imagine what you could do with some cherry filling.)

He hates that you greet him, every morning, without fail, with a hand on his shoulder and asking how he's slept. (Even better if you'd joined me, he thinks.)

And then his mind gets truly creative, imagining all the ways he could make you lose sleep. All the ways his hands and tongue could get creative, tracing the contours of your body.

He hates all of that too.

But what he hates most of all?

That you're Sammy's girl.

Sam's known you longer, since college. The two of you reconnected after the second apocalypse diverted. Or was it the third one? Dean's lost count at this point.

So you're smart. Sam studied Latin, but you studied Greek and Spanish, and even symbology. You consider yourself a linguist -- a fact that had Dean grinning from the moment he met you...

But as many times as he made you blush and smile with his charm and a well-placed joke, it was Sam who hooked you with one of his dimpled smiles and asking you for help on a case.

You'd agreed, for him. The two of you bonded over your nerddom, with heads bowed over ancient texts and shared personal history, and Dean tried not to feel like an outsider.

And yet, even when you fell for his brother. Even when you moved into the bunker, taking up his counter space with your ridiculous baking appliances. Even when you doted and touched and kissed and promised Sam more with your eyes, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed his chance.

So Dean backed off. He made excuses not to be around you and Sam when it got too much for him. Had to ignore the way his stomach churned (and maybe his heart clenched too).

...Until his chance comes. He sees it.

He's also a bit drunk.

"Aw, Dean. You okay?" you ask, picking up a large, empty bottle of whiskey by his hand, which still holds a fifth of a glass.

"Oh, I'm good," he replies, raising his brows with a smile. "I'm real good."

You snort with a laugh. He smirks at the sound; he would never admit it, but a small part inside him always swells with warmth when he makes you laugh.

You bring him a glass of water with just a few cubes of ice. You know he doesn't like it packed to the top. "Drink this."

"What's the magic word?" Dean teases, even as you take the glass tumbler out of his hand.

You then sit next to him at the kitchen table and offer him a wry smile, resting your chin in your hand while your elbow rests on the table. "Please, will you hydrate yourself?"

"Already did," Dean remarks.

"Dean," you say, more seriously gesturing to the water. "Please."

He hesitates. But seeing your face, he finally rolls his eyes and dutifully sips at the tall glass of water.

You reach out for his shoulder. His inebriated gaze is drawn to your hand, the smooth skin of your arm, and back to your face that shows soft concern.

"You don't drink like this unless something's on your mind," you say.

Dean falters. When did you get to know him so well?

"What, a man can't drink alone anymore?" he says wryly.

"He can, but he's gonna have to spill his guts sooner or later," you smirk. Dean grimaces at the image. Suddenly the Jameson sloshing around in his gut doesn't feel all that nice. But the longer he looks at you, the worse he feels.

"Trust me, you don't wanna know," he says. He gestures, with the hand that holds his glass, up at his head. "'S not for newcomers."

"Yeah, but I'm not a newcomer, am I?" you quip.

Dean can't help it. He stares at your face. Your damn perfect face. Perfect for him.

His heart clenches with the pain of guilt. With thoughts he shouldn't have. How he'd rather slit his own wrists than hurt his little brother. Not like this, for fuck's sake.

But Dean's got a problem. It's eating him down to the bone.

He wants you. He really wants you. More than he's wanted anything in so long...

"You really wanna know?" Dean asks. His voice is both a rumble and a coarse whisper. His green-eyed gaze falls to your lips.

For your part, you suck in a subtle breath. Your eyes widen, and your body's frozen, suspended in time.

You stare back at Dean's handsome face, overgrown with stubble, like he’s forgotten to shave. And you finally know what he's been hiding for the past few months. Why he sometimes ducks out when it's supposed to be the three of you, hanging out, watching a movie, sharing a pizza, being friends and family all at once.

You sometimes thought Dean had something against you, no matter how many times Sam has said, "That's not it." With one of those pensive looks on his face.

Like he knows something you don't, and just doesn't want to speak it into existence.

But then, Sam would distract you with his hand stroking your cheek. A kiss to your lips, sweet, but with urgency. You like that about Sam. You even love that about him -- how he can be both kind and considerate, but passionate in his affections.

But now, you stare at the eldest Winchester's face. You don't even know what you're thinking.

Dean sees the blush staining your cheeks.

He leans in, slowly. He’s mere inches away from finding out how sweet you really are.

He hears your shallow breath. His eyes flick up to yours, briefly capturing you again. You smell whiskey on him, but it doesn't completely drown out his cologne. His Deanness.

You can feel your face heating up further, down to your neck. What the fuck is happening right now?

"Tell me no," Dean says. Tell me to stop, or I swear to God...

"Dean, what..." you whisper. But that's not a no.

Still, he can't. He just can't do it. Not to Sam.

Dean just reaches out with a hand to soothe a gentle thumb across your cheek. He realizes then that he loves you. He loves you enough to let you go, if he has to.

"It comes down to this," Dean says. His voice is deep, full of grit and desire. You can see it in his eyes. He sees the conflict in yours.

He swallows. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, but he uses every ounce of self-restraint he has left, forcing his hand to fall away from your cheek.

"You've got two choices, sweetheart," he says. And he pulls away, leaving you there at the table.

Dean doesn't know it, but your heart is about to burst just like his. What the hell! How could he do that? Why...

But you realize then, holding a hand to your wildly beating, guilt-ridden, confused heart.

You never told him no.

AN: I love Sam, don't get me wrong. But because I'm unequivocally a Dean girl, I had to leave it a bit ambiguous. 😏

Read the Sequel!

Here's the requested sequel to this, in which you have to make a choice (contains both Sam and Dean endings):

Imagine: Choosing him.

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

DW Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @chernayawidow @syrma-sensei @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean gives you an impossible choice #dean in love with sams girlfriend #unrequited love? #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam and dean #angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

[moonlight-prose]

Hey! Was wondering if I could stop by with a request possibly for Marc or Steven 🙈 + “let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”

No pressure but also thank you in advance 🩷🩷

TO BE LOVED

a/n: i went with steven on this one, because i feel like that'd be more his vibe. wanting to be close even afterwards. also i just miss writing his soft personality and am now upset that he doesn't exist in real life.

summary: "you didn’t intend to give up your heart—believing that you could remain one person without severing yourself in two."

word count: 904

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, fluff, soft steven vibes, p in v sex, a tad bit of body worship, steven losing his mind a little bit, attempts at putting some romance in there.

It was an accident. Falling in love with him.

You didn’t intend to give up your heart—believing that you could remain one person without severing yourself in two. But he was more than you expected. He caught your attention and held it tight. Despite what you originally wanted. He handed you the blade, and you split your heart, offering one half to him in the hopes that he’d protect it. That he’d love you as much as you did him.

“Please love,” he gasped, his hands sliding along your bare body. As if he couldn’t figure out where to touch you—too overwhelmed by the sheer sight of you beneath him. Lost in your own pleasure.

“Steven,” you sighed, hands tugging on his curls as he pressed into you, his hips meeting yours—a shaky breath being forced from your chest.

Sliding your hands down his back, you felt him shudder above you, his eyes clamped shut. He seemed to be right on the precipice. Barely able to keep himself from falling off if the way he dug his fingers into the sheets beneath you was any indication. But you wanted him to fall. Desired the sight of him coming more than you wanted to come yourself.

“I need you to—fuck,” he dragged in a lungful of air, hips stuttering with each thrust.

You wanted to tell him that he could let go, give over to the mind-numbing pleasure that ate away at him. But words were not an option anymore. He had found the angle that sent your head flying back into the pillow, your thighs tightening around his hips. Steven felt it before you could get the words out. Your walls clamping down around is cock, a rush of slick pooling at the base and smearing against the top of his thighs.

A ragged grunt was punched from his chest, his body pitching forward until he was pressing you down into the mattress. The added weight only made you feel so much more. As if Steven was filling you to the brim with his warmth, his overwhelming love that you craved.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you rolled your hips the best you could, but he’d pinned you down. Barely pulling out with each thrust. He wanted to carve a place for himself inside your heart, but there was no use. The place existed the second you met him.

He whined, his lips smashing roughly to yours, teeth clacking slightly together, but you didn’t care. Not when he was licking each and every heady sound out of your mouth and swallowing it with sounds of his own.

“You close love?” he breathed, his eyes fluttering open and greeting you with the sight of his eyes glazed over with lust. The clarity was gone, because all he could focus on—all he could comprehend—was you and the feeling of your impending orgasm.

You nodded, nails scratching against his shoulder blade. “Uh huh.”

A smile flashed across his face. Eyes lighting up at how he was able to render you speechless, incoherent mumbles of his name and breathy I love yous falling from your lips. You were so far gone, but you loved it that way. For how nervous and shy he was when you met, Steven was more than capable in turning you into a fucked out mess. His hand gripped your thigh, pushing it up higher as he grinded deep. Clearly enjoying the broken sob that tore from your chest, your walls fluttering around him.

“Wanna feel you baby.” His hand slipped down, fingers finding your pulsing clit. His thumb barely touched you, pressing down with enough pressure to snap the built up pressure in your stomach.

Your mouth fell open, a choked out sob breaking free as you came. Crashed over the edge and drowned in the pleasure that filled your body. You heard him curse above you, his head burying into your shoulder as you dragged him down with you. His lips pressed to your shoulder, hands sliding up your waist to cup your breasts lightly—soothing you and working you through both your highs.

Five minutes went by and you struggled to stay awake. His soft touches and light presses of his lips lulled you to the brink of sleep. Something told you that he knew it. Except you could feel the mixture of your cum begin to slip out even as he softened inside of you. You’d have to get up and clean yourselves, possibly change the sheets, but his body heat—the weight of him—it all pushed you towards sleep.

“Steven,” you slurred slightly, your body still trying to catch up.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice fairing no better. There was a tinge of red on his cheeks, spreading down to his chest. You wanted to take a picture of him just like this—keeping it forever to remember how beautiful he was.

“We’ve got to—” you fought against the yawn. “Get up.”

He shook his head, lips pressed to yours softly and drawing out a soft moan that had his cock twitching. “Let me stay like this in you for a little bit. Please.”

“‘M gonna fall asleep,” you grinned, hands running through his curls.

A soft sigh was pressed into your mouth. “That’s okay. You can sleep love. I’ll be sure to wake you up.”

“You promise?” you murmured.

He nodded, a soft smile spreading on his lips. “I promise.”

#steven grant x f!reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant smut #steven grant #moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight smut #my writing #sinful soiree🥀

[fili-urzudel]

Jumbled - Kíli Durin x Reader

A proper, full-length fic featuring our favorite little brother! I'm not the most proud of this but it's finished and I think I should put it out there. No one requested this, but it's to tide you over until I put the finishing touches on the last few requests :)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: a lot of being oblivious and dumb, but other than that we're good.

There were no words to describe Kíli Durin. That's what you were thinking as the top of your quill lightly brushed your bottom lip, gazing out the inn's drawing room window. This was the last town you would all stop in for a long while, and those of you with families had made the choice to write letters to your families back home as quickly as possible. You told them how you were doing, that you were tired but making progress and eating well, and keeping good company among thirteen dwarves and a hobbit.

You told them a bit about Bilbo and his odd little ways that you found quite endearing, if not annoying at times, and about Glóin, and his unabashed love and pride in his family. You told them about the golden-haired Prince Fíli, who was always a gentleman and had fast become your friend. You told them how Thorin was usually a big grump, but you had seen evidence from time to time, usually in relation to Bilbo, that it was all just a front. But the one dwarf you wanted to tell them about, you found yourself tongue—er, pen-tied over.

There were no right words to describe how you felt about Kíli Durin. Perfect wouldn't really do him justice, with his uneven bangs and his dazzling lopsided smile and stubbly beard that he cursed to the end of his days. Neither would ethereal, with the way his scent of pine sap and the feel of the callouses on his hands were so very grounded and real. Princely didn't fit his flippant attitude and his unceasing laugh and his never-ending jokes that had your lungs cramping at times.

Perhaps the real problem was that there wasn't enough paper.

You sent the letter off without writing exactly what you wanted about the soon-to-be prince of Erebor, save for his best wishes to any female member of your household. He didn't think you would write it down, but there was just enough room for a postscript. That would show him.

And before you knew it, you were on your way again. You readjusted your pack on your shoulders as Fíli dropped back to walk beside you. "I don't suppose you confessed your undying love in that letter by any chance?"

You blushed and nudged him with your elbow, too untrusting of your own balance to attempt kicking him. "Do you have to be so loud?"

"I can assure you it's all lost in the thunderous stomping, my friend," he smiled. "But that's probably for the best. Better for the object of your affections to know first, don't you think?"

"Stop trying to push it, Fíli," you groaned. "I already feel horrible for avoiding him for so long. I just... I can't be normal around him anymore, I—I don't know how to get the words out. This is all... so weird."

Fíli gave you a pointed glance. "If you're worried about him rejecting you, there's no way in all of Arda."

"Is that verified intelligence?"

"I'm his brother."

"Fair enough. I'll try."

"Tonight?"

"...Soon."

You didn't even have to approach the prince that evening, as he sought you out to have supper with. "Hello," you said with a nervous smile, scooting to make sure there was plenty of room for him on the log you had claimed. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to get away from him.

"Hey," he returned a bright grin. "I just figured I'd better take my chance to spend some time with you while I can. We never seem to be near each other anymore."

"Hah, yeah," you answered awkwardly. "Sorry about that."

"Have you been avoiding me?" He asked, suddenly serious.

"What?" You asked with wide eyes, horrified. You looked to Fíli, sitting just a few yards away, and he gave you a look that said, just tell him.

"No—no, I wasn't trying to avoid you at all, it's just, you see, well—" gods you were a mess—you sighed. "I just realized, fairly recently, that I'm... in love, and it's made it hard to focus. I'm sorry if I was avoiding you."

That was a terrible confession by any standard.

Rather than looking relieved or hopeful, Kíli looked... pained. Almost angry, and Kíli was never angry. "Oh. I'm happy for you," he said flatly, before picking up his stew and heading elsewhere. He took a seat near Dwalin and Thorin, silently listening to their intense conversation.

You gave a desperate look to Fíli again, and he just shrugged. "I'll try to talk to him," he mouthed, and you nodded in gratitude.

You spent the rest of the evening in silence.

You loved Fíli. Of course, you loved Fíli, Kíli thought as he wandered the outskirts of camp, kicking a rock from one boot to another. Just one look at the two of them could have predicted that clearly enough. He was tall but broad, properly muscular for a dwarf. He had thick, curly hair and enough braids to make Thorin jealous. He had a full beard. He forged enough knives to supply an army and carried half of them on his person.

What did Kíli have compared to that? Bangs he had cut for himself on impulse so that people would have something else to look at instead of his pathetic excuse for a beard? A small game bow that was useless when anything came up close? A sword that he needed help to make?

There was no contest, really. Even if Fíli was engaged, what would that do to stop anyone from seeing his merits?

"You're sure he didn't say anything? Didn't make any significant noises or... grunts or anything?" You asked, on the verge of tears. It had been three days since your terrible confession, and Kíli hadn't so much as glanced your way.

"Nothing. He hasn't said anything to me since, either," Fíli said dejectedly.

There were only two explanations: he had horribly misunderstood you, or he knew you were in love with him and was so disgusted by the concept that he decided to avoid you entirely. As foolish as it was, you were inclined to believe the latter.

"What about what I said would make him hate me?" You murmured.

"Hey now, he may be giving you the cold shoulder, but he does not hate you. Kíli's not like that. You'd have to do something terrible, like... kill me, to get him to hate you," Fíli assured you.

That drew a short laugh from you, and you rubbed your nose on the back of your hand. "I hope you're right," you sighed. "I just wish he would at least look at me."

That night, like the previous two, you sat away from the fire, holding your soup close to your body to stay warm, despite Balin's many good-natured attempts to get you to join them. If Kíli didn't want to be near you, you wouldn't force him.

It was still light out when you decided to lay out your bedroll for the evening, the sun just starting to dip behind the trees. Apparently Thorin had decided you all needed the extra rest.

You glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and your eyes were met with boots. Kíli's boots. "Kíli!" You said, surprising yourself with how... shocked your voice was.

"Are you alright?" He asked, and though he sounded concerned, there was a hardness to his eyes. "People who are in love don't normally appear so sad."

"Well, they do when the object of their affections makes it so clear that they are not interested," you replied glumly. "You don't have to pretend—"

He made a frustrated sort of huff, and you looked up at him in confusion. He had never made a sound like that. "I am sorry for your heartbreak, but forgive me if it frustrates me as well. It is clear to all the world by his disposition, his words, and most importantly, his braids, that my brother is taken. He has promised himself in marriage to a dam he loves, and there is nothing my brother is if not loyal. And I can understand his appeal, but have I not also been a friend? Have I not also tried to be kind and—and charming and gentlemanly and make you laugh? I am not my brother but I would like to think I have my own merits so why are you lovesick over him when I am right here?"

You gazed at him with wide eyes, a smile breaking across your face. "You... think that I love your brother?"

Kíli's brow furrowed. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Fíli! Kíli has declared me hopelessly in love with you!" You shouted, and the golden prince unceremoniously spat out a spray of his soup, narrowly missing Nori.

By this time you were full-out laughing, and everyone in the company was staring at you, especially Thorin.

"Will you please tell me what's going on?" Kíli asked, all the hardness having vanished from his eyes.

"Kíli, I may have been... fantastically terrible at saying this, and I'm sorry for that, but I was trying to say that I'm in love with you," you explained, taking his hands.

"You're... in love with me?" He breathed hopefully.

"I love you, Kíli, and if your recent outburst was any indication, I'm feeling very optimistic about my chances of you loving me as well," you confirmed.

"But—but I'm short and uncouth and—and I can't grow a proper beard—"

"You were just touting your many good qualities, and I agree with those more," you teased.

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"I love you too," he finally admitted. "May I kiss you?"

"You may."

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #kili durin x reader #prince kili x reader #kili durin #kíli durin x reader #kíli durin

[mulderscully]

having deep thoughts about nandermo again. like. they really do have, in my personal opinion, the most fasinating m/m relationship of all time simply because they are such a slowburn relationship that it allows for their relationship to grow and develop gradually and for us as an audience to become as attatched to them as they are to each other which is something i really miss in most lgbtq+ media.

i keep thinking about how much their relationship has changed from season one to now and how when you look back, so much about it just clicks together perfectly.

what stands out to me after 5x05 is nandor telling guillermo that they (really him, obv) are fine without him, when we see over and over again that this is absolutely not true. and so much of this ties back to how the foundation of their relationship as master and familiar is about the fact that guillermo wanted so desperately to be a vampire, perhaps out of some sense of needing to belong somewhere. along the way, at some point in over ten years, their relationship stopped being about that. at some point they grew to love each other- and tbh it does not matter if that love is platonic or romantic or somewhere in between. they love each other in a way neither of them really understands or want to face.

this is so much more evident through nandor, and it's such fantastic storytelling because while they have this massive inherent power imbalance, the writers flipped the script and made guillermo more powerful than nandor in every way - physically, emotionally, mentally! and this isn't a slight to nandor. nandor likes that guillermo is strong and could kill him! and the only reason either of them is alive is because the love they have exists beyond vampire/slayer and master/familiar.

the juicy part though, is that nandor has obviously been afraid of guillermo being turned because then he won't have any real reason to stay, to be with him, to take care of him. and in season five, unknowingly, this is actually what is happening and it's why nandor is so desperate. he can feel something is different about guillermo, he can feel the distance between them that he has always feared - but he doesn't understand why it's happening. he just knows he feels unseen by the only person who has ever seen him and that causes him to lash out despite all he wants is guillermo to want him just as bad.

AND GUILLERMO DOES! because if he didn't love nandor, why does he hide that he has become a vampire? why does he stay? why does he keep being a familiar, despite getting what he always THOUGHT he wanted? because he loves nandor. because it's not about being a vampire, and maybe he doesn't even want it anymore because he had already become powerful in his own way. he also just wants nandor to see him. and because he loves nandor so much he is purposely creating this distance between them. the show has established multiple times that guillermo can fend for himself, esp now with vampire strength on top of what he already had. he isn't afraid of nandor killing him. he's afraid of hurting nandor, he's afraid of nandor killing himself.

it's just so good: it's SO good. this is not the type of relationship that can be told in a season or two. i love enjoying this ride.

#wwdits #nandermo #wwdits spoilers

[dairy-farmer]

Is me~ back to haunt you Ask Box o/ because I just had A Thought(tm)

What if~? The OPPOSITE of my Magic Sex Toy idea? Uno Reverse?

But how would that even work? You say. Tim would very obviously notice!

Oh ho ho~ ye of little Faith! *slaps my "join the Church of Civilian Tim" poster I obviously made myself* CONSIDER! Not a cape! Semi-stable schedules!

We open our scene with stalking. As ya do. Tim would prefer you call it "bird watching" or "observing the night life" but... let's be real here. Stalking. He's getting them NICE Premium Pics for his Definitely-Not-A-Stalker-Shrine. There's a newbie on the scene. A gaudy robe wearing mofo.

3 guess what HIS shtick is. First two don't count.

But! Thing is? Tim is no long a wee baby faced pre-teen. He is a Man(tm). Legally, twice over. And well... you find a LOT if Neat Late Night Shops running after the bats. He may have been persuaded by CERTAIN libidos that maybe he should check them out. Who can say? You can't prove ANYTHING. These bags are groceries and no you can't check..

Where was he? Ah, right, Pics of the Nightwing booty. *click*

Tim forgets Rule Number 1.5: ALWAYS keep an eye on what the villian is doing.

By the way... what that bright light? Oh, just a SPELL BOLT. Fuckin DODGE, MAN!

He fails to dodge.

🥺 H-His camera... Night-booty... Also why does he feel? Tingly? He doesn't stick around to figure it out. Grabs his TRAGICLY dead camera and bolts. Not getting caught at the scene of the stalking TODAY, no sir! Batmans definitely gonna check the area and he SHANT be there! Early night it is!

He gets back to his apartment. Still feels tingly... but less? Maybe those charms he looked up how to make protected him after all. Still, shouldn't push his luck, you know? He settles in for the night. Gets a warm shower.

Comes out and eyes the bags he dropped by the bed... and... well...

He DID wrap up early~ Maybe treat for Timmy time. He digs them out.

Weird.

They? We're already pretty life like (it's why he bought them) but... when he TOUCHES one? He swears it gets MORE life like? He really should look this up or something... suspect toys in Gotham and all... but on the other hand? Horny. And the boxes WERE closed. It's fiiiiine.

But which one? It's kinda been a while. And he doesn't want to be sore tomorrow. This one!

So Tim lays back. Let's himself enjoy working himself open. Then works the fake(?) Cock inside himself. And oh~ it's WARM. Twitchs. He let's himself enjoy a slow, lazy session. Get really sloppy and relaxed before finally finding juuust the right angle aaaand~

Across the city, the current Robin, Damian Wayne, is shaking APPART on a roof top. Sweat pouring down his temple, thighs trembling as he tries ro stop himself from rutting up into empty air. It won't help. Won't make the damnable TEASING go any faster. Wet and tight and PERFECT around him.

Came out of NOWHERE. One second he was patrolling, the next barely catching himself from falling. Stumbling into an alchove on some god forsaken roof. Hands fumbling to turn off his comms. Absolutely not. They could NOT hear him like this.

Panting into hands pressed tight over his own mouth to stiffle the sound he wants to make. Beg and demand that magnificent heat go FASTER. Plunge him DEEPER. But he CANT. Because there's no one there. Just him and the slowly increasing pressure in his balls, begging for relief.

Then, like prayers answered, it DOES. He could WEEP. Can't stop the aborted jerks of his hips as he chases his relief. Soon is trembling like the virgin he ISNT anymore as he spills into... into SOMEONE.

They take it so well. So perfectly.

He's RUINED. His hand will never be enough after this. And Tim has no idea.

Sure, he's not stupid. He didn't buy toys the fake cum. (So to be safe plan B it is) But? In the cold like of day? Prooooobably magic sex toys. Eh. It's Gotham. Not the weirdest thing to happen. Tim's keeping them.

And using them.

Thus begins the "phantom lover" incident, as Bruce will insist on calling it. Because "we were haunted by random fuckings" sounds... unprofessional. And he's a Dramatic Bitch at heart.

Damian, obviously, told NO ONE. Patrol? Utterly normal. Mind you business. But Bruce? Uncomfortable conversations for EVERYBODY~☆

See, Tim has a long day. His new camera isn't gonna be in for a WEEK. There is no point in going out. So his evening stretchs long and empty before him. Which... SPEAKING of things both long and things empty... >.>

He remembers. There was an absolute UNIT that he bought. It also has that base... which mean he could put it on the sex pillow. Try riding it... oh he's GOTTA, now.

Lucky for Bruce, he's not even in the cave when it hits. Unluckily, it is a cock teasing hell. Nothing to hold. No body to press close. No skin to run his hands across or ears to whisper filthy praise. So TIGHT. Fluttering and fighting to take him. Sinking little by little. Can't even HEAR him praising them. He can't even distract them, rub their clit and sooth them as muscles relax.

Can't hold them by the hips and work them up and down. They way he knows will work best. At angles that will make them SOB. Just nothing, nothing, nothing. Trembling and eager around him but so SLOW. Pausing again and again to adjust. Can't thrust in, can't pull out, only TAKE it. Let himself be teased.

But OH. When they finally, FINALLY get a rythme? He knows they can hear a word he says. Not yet. But the FILTH he growls. The audacity of what they're doing. He's GOING to find them. Going to pin them done and-

Tim spend the next day sore, but happy. Definitely not an "every day" sort of toy, but holy shit the orgasm. He hasn't slept this well in a WHILE. Though... when he wakes up? The Bats are acting weird. Violent, hyper-focused, seemly shaking down leads with a single minded enthusiasm. Weird.

Speaking OFF. Now he's wondering... does the possibly fake cum... TASTE like real cum?

One way to find out.

And... look. Dick may have been warned, but it's one thing to hypothetically get your bits milked dry and another to be doubled over seeing the face of god. He would gladly kill a man for the ability to grab hold of whoever is doing this and ram home. The mouth on him is a thing of wonder and it keeps TEASING the tip. They keep running soft, pampered, little hands up and down his length. God he wants them to feel him in their GUT. Fuck their face and their ass and any OTHER holes they have til everything is sloppy and wet and-

Yep! From the tast flooding Tim's mouth, that's real cum. Good his he got his shot. But it begs the question... whoms't exactly is he fucking? Tim's not sure he's comfortable with random hook ups. What if, Gods forbid, it linked him to the JOKER or something!? He'd have to blow up the city and everyone in it.

He considers this as he resumes his sta- he means, BIRD watching. Newly be-camera-d. Weirdly enough, now Nightwing is acting off too. What is going ON? Also... he could of SWORN he saw the Red Hood a second ago. Did he leave? Aaw D:>

.....what's that sound?

*boss music starts playing* That would be the Red Hood. Owner of the mythical Common Sense gene. HE immediately phoned a friend! And by THAT we mean he beamed up to The Watchtower to get poked at by magic users until he had a scanner.

Beep beep, mother fucker. You have explaining to do.

OR, counter argument.... Tim makes a run for it. Doesn't GET far. But he Sure Did Try! Jason is unamused. Consent is sexy, kids. And he has the gun to explain that. But! TIM has the panic babbling to explain his horny stupidity and innocence.

Fair enough. He's confiscating them though. If you get horny, just fucking ask.

Wait.... really? Does Jason really mean that?

And... two things. Cute Horny Idiot knows his identity. And.... he never said HE wasn't also apparently a horny idiot. Sure, why the fuck not.

He confiscate the magic contraband... then bends that twink in HALF. Comms off, back into it. Tim can barely breathe, pressed down so tightly to the bed as his guts get re-arranged, callused hands holding his legs spread, his childhood hero rumbling FILTH into his ear as hips snap against his, again and again and AGAIN. The world is hot and fuzzy around the edges and... AND-!

Jason's pretty damn smug that HES not only the one who found mystery twink, but them fucked him incoherent. He seriously considers just... not saying anything. Whoops! Nothing to find here folks. To bad the Watchtower is a fuckin snitch.

So obviously Bruce finds out. And wants to "talk to him". Which inevitably ends with Tim, pressed close to his front, held still as he "fucks him properly". Which as far a Tim is concerned is a god damned excuse to EMPALE him on his monster of a cock. Work it deeper and deeper, all while holding him like a lover, as he absolutely DESTROYS Tim's poor puss. Makes him lose count of how many times he's gotten off. Until everything is too bright and hyper sensitive. Til it's nearly hurting but not quite there and all Tim can think about, as he whimpers and drools, is SLEEP.

Oh... and THEN he wants to talk about how Tim knows their secret identies. Ask him in the morning or Tim WILL cry at you.

He wakes up in Wayne Manor. He did not go to sleep in Wayne Manor. He can't move his lower body with out pain. Bruce is clearly pretending he planned that. Liar.

Then? Karma. His horny chickens come home to roost. Has Bruce introduced you to his sons? This is Dick and Damian. They remember you. And would like a "word".

(The word is sex and they would like it as soon as possible)

👀👀👀!!!!!!!!!!!! a reverse magic sex toy!!!!!!!!!!!!! where tim tortures the other bats by fucking his little pussy with their cocks while they're forced to just suffer and endure it until he's finished. more than once they almost scream from frustration because tim finishes before they do and he pulls them out of his warm, slick little hole. 👀👀👀👀

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #brutim #dicktim #damitim #jaytim

[cassyclassyfancy]

I haven't posted for a month lol ๋࣭ ⭑ Yandere! Morax and his love. Summary:Yao-Yao leads about Y/N in a story book and asks her mentor more about the lady, she would be fascinated in so. But Cloud retainer would not tell a tale so disturbing for a kid.

Short. All my post are short

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Warnings Kissing without consent Yandere themes ! I do not condone to this irl ! ๋࣭ ⭑

“You seem to know Y/N alot cloud retainer!”

“You're mistaken child. She, was the closest to Morax one simply mangled in their story.”

“Story?“ The beaming child Yao-Yao chirped, her eyes shining like diamonds.

“Surprising really.”

“Y/N fits every aspect of talent, looks, and personally. That was what made who Rex lapis is today. They often soured the skies, sit by the shores of Yaoguang Shoal or enjoy the sight of Jueyun Karst. She was his pride and joy, One cannot simply think of any possibility on how he will survive without his love.”

He would've let himself eroded. Morax would've set himself on stone and went insane centuries ago. Weren't it for their saviour. No matter how much Cloud retainer covers your markings or sometimes ignoring them completely, The bird does find ways in excusing your marks from the other adeptis, not anymore since you and Morax are already one. She doesn't have to fear that you go insane? Not that you weren't on his care.

Morax gladly agreed to be sealed to a domain, that you also with be. You were already immortal thanks to his 'gift' surely you won't mind spending eternity with the man you love.

(Your perspective)

Loving the gold he frequently gifts you, necklaces, bracelets, matching rings all jewels you could lay your eyes on. It would be at your door next morning.

You remember the gold chains that was in your door step with a letter with his initial in it.

The last morning you will ever see the (Real)sun rise. After being knocked out for God knows how long, you found yourself laying in land filled grass with glaze lilies, the Sun was shining down on you a strange phenomenon which was one in a million day in teyvat. There also laying in the grass was him. With your hands bound together by the same chains he sent. Noticing you awoke, he moved over your side and on top of you, tapping the chains

“Haven't I told you, that one day I would be turning my fantasy to reality? Now we're bound for eternity!” Morax chuckled in a sick and wicked way that you felt a knot building in your lower area.

His rough and gentle hands caught yours greedily bringing it up his cheeks so you could feel how incredibly cold it was. Almost in humane. His other hand scoping a handful or your locks playing with it.

Well, you know now how easily he gets sour when he groped your hands that tangled with his. His face coming closer and whisper in your ear

“Aren't you happy dear? Now that you're mine...” He forcefully grips your cheeks turning them bright red in the process, bringing his lips close to yours before kissing you passionately

Gold rusts anyway.

#yandere morax #yandere zhongli #genshin morax #genshin impact #🌕 #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #morax x reader

[trincketbox]

Jason Todd as a Trans (ftm) allegory

Written by me, a trans man

[this edit was made by me, original picture it's Dan Mora's sketch]

TW gender disphoria, (implied) transphobia.

Im not saying his story was written with this perspective in mind, Im saying *death of the author (*the reinterpretation of artistic creations by the public both as a community and aa individuals, and how this goes far beyond the creator's original message on mind) is a very real thing.

This narrative resonated with me, a trans man, and my experience as such. Maybe out there is another transmasc person who caught themselves invested in this character the same way as I, and maybe they'll read this post and be happy to found out they're not alone on these feelings.

Without further addue, let's begin.

The second Robin, and the feeling of not fitting

Every trans person first memory of perceiving oneself as somehow different (and how) it's particular to each.

Some realize pretty young, some older. Some always have this lingering feeling of not belonging but become conscious of it later in life.

This feeling its present trough all of Jason's life. First, when he first arrives at the Manor. Later, when he starts operating as Robin. Then when Tim "replaces him", and so on.

Usually labelled as the black lamb of the family.

Tragedy is always, first, born off love

Jason's death and resurrection is written as a tragedy (no shit, Sherlock). But there, to be a tragedy, there has to be hope first. There has to be love.

Now, this varies from version to version, but a general consence is that Jason Todd was loved by Bruce Wayne, regardless of how much their relationship might change and twist on the future; Jason Todd was a good kid, regardless of how he might be portrayed as recless. He was a traumatized, angry kid who wanted to make things better. Who wished for bad guys to not hurt people anymore. Who wished to change the system for better, and took the matter on his own hands both as a child and as a young adult.

This

This right here

Was a loved, brave, bold, sensitive, mischievous, smart child who would latter come back like this:

Demanding justice, demanding damnation for al the pain he went through, demanding retaliation to the monster that set him off this world.

And all these requests fell to the ears of Bruce Wayne, Batman. The man who took him in as a scared, bold litte child that beated him in the cold of the night in the alley where his parents died. He stole his car tires, he's a child and he stole his car tires and he made Batman laugh.

That Perception doesn't change with his rise from the dead.

What changes is Bruce's view of him now.

Now, this depends on the writer, but on the start of Jason's "coming back to Gotham to fight Bruce" arc, there is the accusation of him coming back wrong.

Of him being better before

Of something being wrong with him since the start.

The implications of his physical change as wrong in comparation to his younger self.

I find Jason's body dismorphia due to The Lazarus Pit™ very interesting,but in this case Im not referring to it as a comparation with body disphoria (even through, he does get the feeling of your body changing in ways out of your control and the trauma that surrounds it).

Im talking about Bruce's view on all of this.

Luckily, if you're trans and had supportive parents, you won't know these things by first hand experience, but many, many people do.

And Jason gets it.

Jason Todd its womanhood™ coded

This is, partially, one of th main reasons why his fanbase consists on a large part of fangirls.

Repressed rage upon the injustices you go through all your life, and once the last drop falls, said rage is weaponized. Seen as dirty, as over the top, as dangerous.

Your older self being compared to your younger self, being asked (directly or indirectly) where that sweet child™ went.

Being striped away from your body autonomy (murder, torture, resurrection against his will, whatever is going on in Batman Gotham War).

Being labeled as the most sensitive. Sometimes in a good light, sometimes not.

The burning weight of still loving parental figures that hurted you.

Topping it all, it's implied through many instances he's a feminist (yes, Im aware this is also heavily influenced by fanon interpretations of the character, but you can't deny it's still heavily implied).

All of these issues almost universal (however not exclusive) to AFAB people life experience.

There is this recognition in these wounds. "He gets it", you feel, he gets it.

He gets it in a similar way transmasc individual have an undeniable insight of these issues. He gets it in a way that feels genuine, familiar, personal.

Lastly but nor least important,

He gives me gender™ vibes. That's it, that's the argument

Over all, Jason Todd its a multifaceted, complex character. He's morally grey, his temperament ranging and mutating with each reinterpretation. Some core issues stick, others don't.

I do not hold the one and only right interpretation of this character.

We can al agree, nevertheless, that even through he's not canonically trans,

Jason todd would be a great trans ally, fighting by our side, in name of our rights, our pain but also our pride.

For that's what heroes do.

#dc comics #trincketbox #Jason todd #Jason todd trans #Jason todd ftm #Dc trans #Dc ftm #Dc headcanons #Batfamily #Batbros #Batkids #Robin #robin jason todd #Batfam #wayne family adventures #Batman #Jason Todd headcanons #trans headcanon #Ftm character #Gotham war #WHY IS THE QUALITY OF THE FIRST PICTURE SO LOW #English isn't my first language #This was written at 2am #With no traductor to check up words #And completely self indulgent

[kurain-genealogy]

i said i was gonna post about it and i am. i don't think william afton hates his kids. i don't think william afton is a mad scientist that kidnapped and put children in hallucinogenic gas chambers. whatever the fuck dittophobia said about afton doing all that, plus not stopping/furthering the bullying between michael and cc, is just dumb & wrong. william wanting his kids to fight, even die, is comically evil in the "bad writing" way. him being characterized as someone who experiments on children (including his own with no regard for their lives) in order to achieve immortality or whatever his supposed motivation is, is just really... nothing? as a character there is nothing to make him feel real. in an attempt to flesh out this character, they made him into a cartoon villain with "evil" being his only defining trait. whatever, i could talk for so long about how dumb i think all the dittophobia stuff is but i think most ppl on tumblr are on the same page regarding that.

to me, william afton is best characterized as someone who, at the Very Least, Doesn't Want His Own Children To Die. he can be a shitty father all around, or he can be a genuine loving father who is also a serial killer, as long as he Cares if they Die? most of what makes william afton an interesting villain, and where a lot of people interpret his motivation comes from, is how despite all his best efforts, he cannot prevent the death or downfall of his own family. he is in a tragedy of his own making, a self-imposed hell crafted by his hubris and violence. if you take this away, why should i care what happens to him? william afton was scariest when he was just purple guy and we knew nothing. william afton is most interesting when we have all these relationships and dynamics where we can seriously study and speculate the circumstances behind/around his actions, when he has something to lose (and will lose). william afton is most stale when more things are added to his story without purpose, filling in gaps that were better unfilled or we didn't even know were there – anything after UCN, basically. bro isn't scary anymore because he's either peepaw afton who's brought back despite his story being over, or he's cartoon network's newest over-the-top villian that you can't take seriously.

okay anyway. ANYWAY. william doesn't hate his kids. even if he's a shitty father, i think he still loves his kids. why else would he try and scare his kids away from the robots if he didn't want them to die? why would he design circus baby after his daughter if he didn't care for her, adore her, even? if you believe the theory that he talked to cc through the fredbear plush (idr if that's actually canon), why would he be trying to protect/comfort him?

i don't think he's a perfect, or even a good father, by any means. if you interpret him to be on the better side, that's great and fine. i'd love to hear how other people interpret/characterize afton if you wanna share! continuing on for this post, i'm going to lay out how i personally see william afton.

to me, he is someone who is very concerned and preoccupied with his image and how others view him & his family. even if he's super shitty and awful towards his kids, he at least cares that they all look good as a family unit, that they're well behaved, that he can send family portrait holiday cards to all his business partners and investors.

he strikes me very much as the typical authoritarian parent of the 80s. harsher on his sons because "men don't cry," wants his kids to say "yes, sir," and "no, sir," believes in "tough love," often says "my house, my rules," he has the final say in everything, maybe thinks hitting them from time to time is a normal, necessary punishment. not all entirely malicious, but thinks he's doing what's best, what's right, acting like a parent and father Should act, perhaps how he himself was raised. unfortunately, a very common parental mindset (even outside of serial killers). maybe he was a little scarier sometimes though, a little more unhinged or violently angry. who's to say.

but he's still just a guy who could exist in real life. he still eats dinner with his family every night, hangs his kids' drawings on the fridge, had to turn the car around because they wouldn't stop fighting in the backseat, attended awkward parent-teacher conferences, everything. he was once a new father who happily came home with his first newborn, lost countless nights of sleep over the course of two more, loves them because they're his.

meticulously and senselessly killed children, then came home and tucked his own into bed and kissed them goodnight.

he can be abusive and still love his kids. he can be a murderer and still care for his own kids' lives. maybe the loss of his own kids is what triggered his actions, or maybe it was something else. i'm fine with not knowing because we don't need to know everything, and it's more interesting when we don't.

Something Is Seriously Wrong With This Guy And We Don't Know What or Why. when acquaintances find out he's a suspected murderer, it should be shocking and upsetting. he's such a great man and father, he wouldn't murder those kids! when michael discovers his father's crimes, he should be in denial. sure, he could be scary sometimes, but he wouldn't kill anyone... right? there's a great cognitive dissonance between who he appears to be and who he actually is.

whether william descended into grief-induced madness and obsession, or was just always some kind of freak, or both, i don't think he saw his own family as disposable. even if he didn't truly love them, he at least needed to keep up his own facade as a friendly family man. personally i like to see him as someone who was a shitty father but still loved his kids, because people like that exist, and it makes him a much more interesting, realistic, and nuanced character than if he just didn't care about them At All.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #purple guy #dontlistento me #sorry if this is so incoherent or all over the place or rambly. im insane. #fuck it im posting

[gangplanksorenji]

Incandescence

Pairing: Kep1er Youngeun x Male Reader

Word Count: 2674

A/N: Hi Orenjideul! Just a quick fic just to get myself into writing once again and this girl made me down bad in a quick amount of time idk why but here it is! Hope you like this quick one... <3

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Multiple screams resonate around the area and the flickering of lights amongst the so-called pandemonium of people is irritating to lay your eyes upon, even so, blinding to see. 

But it doesn't matter. It's even better right now. 

Sure, you want to scream your lungs out with a full-on support of the crowd of people as they perform but you wouldn't miss this chance. Not when a short, black-haired girl invited you as a repercussion from you being a nuisance hours ago before they even started performing (being annoying, in a teasing way, of course).

There's nothing more blinding than her beauty. Nothing more.

“Oh god, Oppa.”, she silently whimpers, a nigh-inaudible cry from your princess is a way to start everything she wants. Of course, she wants this—no, need this.

“Sh-shit, more please!”

Swearing isn't in her vocabulary, yet it's hypocritical in times like this as she can't help but feel good—it's just another unfinished, near-infinite melody of sounds and moans that's just music to your ears. 

Another wants that she'll die to beg for, and you won't let those wants go unattended, so you immediately take action. Latch your lips onto her sharp collarbone, she squirms in delight—she missed this, and so did you. You tend not to mark her, even though at times, you can't help but unleash the devil inside you as you want everybody to know who she belongs to.

“This needy, huh? I understand Youngeun—I really need you too.”

Well, that was quick. 

You don't care about the tough demeanor anymore. You want her—no, need her. As much as you want the sternness inside you to intimidate and maybe even possibly scare her, your softness explodes around her as she herself is a ball of sunshine. 

Yet what she wants is what she'll get. After averting your lips towards her neck and collarbones, you caught her lips again and locked in a tangled kiss. The way she kisses you is so sensational and slow that it's almost perfect—and it's like you can't find another great kisser like her.

“I k-know you kiss me so good, Oppa, but I want t-the real thing now…”

She could have never been more straightforward than this. You yourself, you can't help but get onto the climax immediately.

You lean onto the plain, white-colored wall as you let yourself be relaxed and prepare for what's about to happen.

A mischievous smile emanates on your face as she gets down on her knees slowly, her knees probably shuddering because of the cold marble floor but she doesn't care—she wants you, now.

“Gonna do the thing you're best at?”

“With pleasure, Oppa.”

Her ravenous mouth waters as she hurriedly undresses the clothing blocking her treasured prize. With only just your last bit of defense left, she smirked in victory as carefully yanked down your boxers, your painfully erect length now free from its frustrating restraints and even, almost hitting her in the face.

“So hard for me, Oppa. Did your little kitten turn you on this much?”

“Fuck!”

Just before she finishes her sentence, you squirm in pleasure. It's just from her little pressure exerted by her small, dainty hands, what more she can do when she's balls deep inside your mouth—

Your imagination flew over its limits once Youngeun had her hands on work. She strokes half of your length with a pace that's leisurely slow as she teases your slit playfully, the colorless liquid leaking out of it being the cherry on top. 

“I missed this, Oppa—I really do. I can't wait to see what you have in store for me, again…”

She giggles in excitement as you're deemed powerless from her advances, taking control of your needy, throbbing shaft. You can't think of anything more, or even articulate such words that can further turn her on but it doesn't matter—Youngeun doing everything to please you that you've been deprived off for months is nothing more you can ask for.

“May I, daddy?”

There she is. That's the word you're been wanting to hear to escape from her dirty mouth—it'll be soon like it, literally. 

This isn't something new. Dayeon could deliver peak-subbiness better than Youngeun—but it doesn't matter; don't think about Dayeon, avert your attention to this adorable princess.

Giving her the green light, she wasted no time giving you the experience that falters you. You became weak and powerless once Youngeun's mouth came introduced, accommodating the foreign object with all of her might.

The first few inches were immaculate, too pleasurable to withstand but you will as you wanted to give her what she needs. She lazily bobs her head, up and down, the same motion that's been repeated for at least a dozen of times. She's still struggling, even with only half of your length inside her tight throat, she can't help but gag—the sound so sinful that it arouses you further—and drool all over it.

It might seem like she's not doing a good job in her mind, but for you, she's doing great. You reassure her, stroking her black-colored locks, starting for the scalp and all the way down your arms reach. She didn't increase the pace as you know she can't take more than half of your length in a sudden, yet she wants to prove something—make you proud, that's what she wants.

“Don't need to rush anything—god…”

Your words deaf to her ears as she moved her mouth deeper—deeper into the valley of lust and need—as takes you all in. You were surprised at first but you didn't mind as the seconds passed. Her tight cavern constricts around your throbbing length which adds further stimulation that you absolutely love.

“Fu–ughh—ahh!”

The further gagging and coughing ejects the foreign object inside her mouth, coughing right after. She can't take it all, you know this, yet, who are you to control what she wants? You're willing to give everything to her at this very moment yet she ran over her limits—you reassure her that it's alright, she then smiles in satisfaction but doesn't distract herself onto other things and averted her focus towards where she's best at.

She takes you in, again, the wholeness of your throbbing length. Albeit her sudden inexperience on this field, choking on your cock is definitely what she wants. The accumulated drool, the tears of unbridled lust running down her cheeks and probably, the inevitable wetness of her crotch are the cherries on top, in which you dearly adore.

She's choking but she doesn't care. The marks of her lipstick smudge around the base of your shaft and still, she doesn't care. She doesn't mind how dirty she can be. All she cares about is the delicious meal that she's having fun of and, to serve you pleasure.

“Hey baby—fuck—aren't you gonna perform again? You're making a m-mess on yourself—s-shit…”

“No—that's why I'm giving you everything you want, daddy.”

She kisses your tip after withdrawing to let herself regain oxygen—even with her nostrils open, all she can even smell is the musky scent of your shaft and her strawberry lipstick.

She's bold and brave. You're proud of her because of it yet you can't help but feel anxious. You're afraid that the sinful sounds and moans inside this puny room may not be able to contain it all as everything is getting louder and louder, a tone that is music to your very ears. You didn't care anymore—and it's like someone is going to check you up to the very end of the dressing room and you're glad that it's just the two of you here.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me, huh?”

More slurps and bobs is all it takes for you to feel that familiar tingle in your loins, signaling your very near release. As much as you wanted to explode down her tight cavern of her mouth, you won't wanna waste such a load on her—you need to feel something so bad that you can't help yourself to think about it.

“Stop, baby.”

“Daddy, is a-anything wrong?”

Her eyes are glistening with lust and curiosity. She's confused about your command as she knows you wanted her to suck you off until you explode but she anticipates. What a nice girl for her daddy. She really is.

“Nothing, honestly. I just want to fuck you so bad right now.”

And yes, with her outfit? Oh, you could only do one thing and you'll waste no time doing that. 

She always looked spectacular and breathtaking. The way her flawless features compliments her outfit feels like she came straight from a movie—she looks surreal. Her hair, her body, her face—just her.

“Daddy, please—”

“Please what, baby?”

“Hngg—ahh! Too much, daddy!”

Stimulating her too much is her kryptonite, but you didn't care, because you know that's what she wanted at the first place—it also explains how she's insanely wet as her cunt drips like a leaking faucet, staining the marble floor down below.

“Baby, you gotta let daddy know what do you want baby—”

“Please j-just put it in me, daddy…”

The indulgence of the dance of your fingers down her soppily wet cunt takes her into further submission—even though she was already like that from the start—and you loved every second of it. Her constant, desperate pleas of getting filled, her inevitable cries and her love towards you—yes, it was truly everything you'll ask for.

And maybe even no more. The subsequent pleas of submission were further answered: your cock filling her up to the hilt, just like what she wanted.

This wasn't new, maybe, at least. You'll feel and fill her up whenever she wanted to yet it feels so awkward—

You don't care.

“All I want is you, baby.”

And there your hips goes, stabilizing a rhythm that the both of you were satisfied with—a profound pleasure everlasting between the clashing of both your bodies. You even pulled her hair (not enough to hurt her) to even get a better grip on fucking her as it helped by a lot. The pace was moderate, as you wanted to just let her know how much you love her and it's evident: her soothing, lust-filled moans that reverberated around your ear is enough evidence.

Further getting a better grip of her, you held her waist with both hands as with all of her might, she lets herself just be inches away from you. She takes hold of both of your shoulders to support herself, you then, aiding her as your thrusts become slower, but still filling her up to the hilt.

“Daddy, I l-love you—s-so much—ahh! So m-much, daddy…”

“I love you too baby, more than anything in this world.”

You mark your words, truly. You meant those with all your heart and soul, and you'll always let her know that—

“Then prove it, d-daddy.”

“Prove what, baby?”

You pull out of her tight cavern as you can see Youngeun's eyes roll, knowing how dumb you're playing the game. She knows you're playing with her, but she still anticipates the climax.

“Prove it by pounding me hard against this mirror, daddy.”

She's unanticipatedly daring and you couldn't believe your ears picked up. It almost feels like it didn't come out of her mouth—well, it definitely did and her own animalistic urges were to blame.

You won't waste any time. You set more gasoline to the flames of lust as both your bodies clashed together again, also, the sudden penetration making her yelp, her mouth agape on how big you are inside her.

“More please, daddy!”

She begs, you fulfill. A simple formula you won't forget and you'll never will. Resuming your frantic thrusting, you feel heavenly as too much serotonin coursed down your veins. Every gyration of your hips hits a successive moan from her, following yours—both of your cries sound rhythmically arranged, drowned within the symphony of moans you always (and her) love hearing. 

With more deeper thrusts earns an inevitably seductive moan, which turns you even more—and it's also a hot scene: her hands holding its dearest life onto the metal railings and the hot scene of her being railed against the mirror is just too fucling much. Yet, you don't care. As much as you want to strip her clothing one by one, she looks almost perfect with it. It's way too hot if you'll fulfill your desire with her in that outfit. 

Maybe it's just the fact that you have a kink of a cute girl in a skirt…

“Daddy, daddy, d-daddy! Ahh—fuck! Too good—too good!”

Her chants power your hips to bring an onslaught of thrusts that's unmatched than the first one. You're fucking her so hard without a care that you're afraid that this tiny room may conceal the chamber of lustful moans trapped inside within the small area on the corner and the railings giving up on dear life on how much Youngeun's been gripping them ever since you've fucked her cunt mercilessly.

You never stop and probably you never will. You won't stop until you've filled her needy cunt full of your thick seed yet some needs must come first.

“Daddy, I'm going to fucking cum! All over you!”

With the given signal, you resume with more hammering thrusts as her cunt leaks too much of her nectar, as you feel her closing her high. You help her as she screams her lungs out, her reservoir breaking loose as she creams all over your throbbing length. Her orgasm became so powerful that she almost fell unconscious so you became worried and thankfully, she wanted you to ram her again without giving a care, wanting you to cum inside her yet with a reflection, you have other things in mind.

“Get down on your knees for me.”

“W-what? I need you to cum inside me, da—”

“This will be the last time I'm repeating myself, baby. Get on your knees.”

Youngeun is frustrated once your cock left her incredibly tight cunt as she does what she's been told. She instantly knew what you'd do, so, as the good girl as she is, she stuck out her tongue, her legs still quivering from her recently strong orgasm as she anticipated your load. Anticipating a load for a lifetime that she'll forever cherish.

“Cum all over my pretty face, daddy. I know you wanted to from the start. Paint every inch of me white with your seed! Please dadd—”

You erupt.

The tremors broke the dam inside you, resulting in a magnitude of thick spurts of you semen spraying all over her beautiful, ruined visage. She wanted no cum getting wasted so she held your length and stroked it furiously, and of course, she aimed it right to her face for better accuracy. She tried to catch anything she could get with her tongue but was deemed not successful because of the volume of your load.

“God, daddy—you came so much. It's so warm on my face—mwah”

A few kisses and slurps to clean you up is the finale of the show as it sends shivers down your spine, the post-sensitivity finally getting in after an earth-shaking orgasm.

“So fucking delicious too, daddy. Thank y-you for this—you're the best daddy.”

You smiled as she got up slowly, her legs wobbly and weak from all of the pounding she took earlier. Everything felt amazing yet once you've regained awareness, you curse on how dirty the both of you were so you panicked, but Youngeun calmed you down and handed some tissues as she invited you to the bathroom to “clean up”.

“My legs feel like shit, Oppa—oh no…”

“I'm sure they'll understand.”

Youngeun giggles as you reassure her, she then feels calm and collected from your actions which she finds sweet and thoughtful.

“Yujin-unnie and Xiaoting-unnie will, because, y'know…”

“Hey! We don't talk about that here, okay?”

“Okay, Oppa… Help me get cleaned? To the bathroom?”

“Sure, I don't see why not, baby.”

We'll you'll definitely see what's not and what's something once the lights emanates around you—

#kep1er #youngeun #kep1er smut #youngeun smut #youngeun x male reader