#its objectifying and degrading

[problematic-fictive-edits]

Just so you know, while we are not against people with F/Os, this blog is NOT for people with F/Os!

When you tag something about your F/Os, you are putting those tags on a post representative of another PERSON! As this blog is for Fictives/Fictional Introjects! Aka, Alters in a OSDDID system!

Imagine if someone came onto your posts about yourself and tagged it as "S/O," it'd be creepy! The same goes for this!

This blog also isn't for headcanon or canon stuff, either!

~💖 Bebe

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐄𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚

Pairing: Sub!Joel Miller x F!reader

Word Count: 2400

Summary: Trying to slip Joel Miller away from his dominance is an unfortunately difficult task

Warnings: PORN-NO-PLOT. Joel fighting the dom demons. (Spoiler they eventually win.) Bondage. Overstimulation. Daddy kink. Handjob. Joel cumming via nipple play. Dom-ish!reader Kinda? Male moaning & whimpering we’re so back! No beta.

Author’s Note: Another unwarranted repost brought to you by my OCD 👌 p.s. Erotica by Madonna FUCKSSSS

Masterlist

This wasn��t the position he had ever strived to be in. 

You had bound one of his wrists to the headboard behind him, feeling particularly sadistic every time his hips would rut into thin air.

In a more sober circumstance he would’ve found himself rejecting any ounce of torment you’d beg to put him through–unfortunately, one Viarga chased with a shot of bourbon had never led any man to a good, wholehearted decision . Although, Joel knew what he’d be getting himself into the moment he felt the leather of his belt bite into his wrist. He knew what his pretty girl wanted. 

He’d anchored a heel to the mattress, your eyes were staring into him, objectifying his being as he could only lay there. His tummy rising and falling at a quick pace. 

“C’mon, touch your old man, Darlin’.” Were his first, undignified words since he had become one handed. His cock twitched with a mind of its own against his belly. 

You had never been too keen on the idea of giving him physical pain, but, he’d beg to differ, this was equal to that. The throbbing, the aching, how heavy, how swollen he felt. All making his engorged member leak a pearly drop of precum onto his stomach, rolling downwards and following the path of his happy trail.

Joel always took care of you. Every time your thighs would spread, beckoning him in, he’d make sure you got a satisfying fill of him, leaving you nothing short of pleased. But, it’s something about him, sprawled out, vulnerable, in the way you had only ever found yourself under him, you’d only want to abuse the power. 

And, that you did. 

His eyelids lowered, staring at you through slits as you brought a palm close to his chest, running it up the dewy skin, felt warm, felt hot, actually. 

“Just relax.” You encouraged. Almost mean.

He seized as your palm shifted lower, rubbing over his belly. He was fully erect, and so uncomfortably so, he felt like his dick would pop any minute now–shit, any second. Your fingers wiggled down, carving a path of cruel heat to where he needed it most, and once your digits met with the wiry, coarse hairs that crowned his cock, you pulled back with a ‘tsk.’ A deep, exasperated groan escaped from his chest in response. 

“Fuck me, fuck–” He’d only be cut off by his Adam’s apple rubbing harshly against a grunt. “Fuck you.” 

“Oh yeah? Fuck me, hm?” You tested him. Joel, deep down, knew that curses would only get him farther from what he wanted. 

Joel had to stifle a growl as soon as your index began tracing a fine line up towards his ribs, the touch bone-chilling to him, in current. You leaned down to slot your lips against his, opening, allowing his tongue to push sharply into your warm, wet mouth. You’d feel his unbound hand slowly creeping up the nape at your neck, thick fingers carding into your locks, you moaned involuntarily, but quickly swatted him away and pulled back from his lips with a wet, salvia-slicken smack. 

“Nuh uh.” You’d nudge, pressing your thumb into his wrist, his fingers spreading. “Wouldn’t wanna lose this one too, hm?”

Joel could only sigh and shake his head. Receding his left hand behind his head, fisting into his greying curls. Finally beginning to understand how degrading it was to find yourself in this supine position. He wasn’t a fan. Sweating and aching, it wasn’t ideal combined with the modicum amount of pleasure you were giving him, if any. 

Your lips puckered into a taunt at his expression, so needy. Never, not once had it ever crossed your mind you’d be seeing Joel Miller sprawled and staggered against his own sheets. But you’d find yourself with not one complaint, of course, it was only fun for you. 

As his loud, shallow breaths filled the otherwise quiet room, he spoke, hoping, praying it’d get him what he wanted, give him a mere touch, tired of waiting. 

“Baby,” Already, his voice had split into a groan. In another attempt, not shy of sounding needy, he’d moaned. “Sweetheart…” 

“What? Does daddy’s cock need me?” You’d pout. Urging him on. 

Your palm flattened against his navel. That touch alone was enough to get his hips bucking. His cockhead flushed a deep red, thick beads of precum crying down his swelled shaft. 

“Bad.” He gritted. “So. Fucking. Bad.” 

His spine arched awkwardly against the mess of tangled sheets. His body growing rigid and stiff. 

You sighed at his clear discomfort, he should have never decided to pop that tiny, blue, hellsend of a pill. If he hadn’t he’d be more likely to find himself prone to this, more willing to be at your expense with a half hard dick and a comforting warmth spreading beneath his skin. Rather, now he was burning up with a painfully blood filled cock. But fuck, did he look pretty. 

Your head ducked lower, pressing a sweet kiss to his side before leading a soft path to the center of his belly. Basking in his warmth, the scent of him, the musk of his sweat would only make your mouth water.

“Oh, Joel.” You’d murmur. 

Your lips would part against his tummy, palms pawing at the soft, fatty flesh on his sides. Your pussy throbbing, untouched and clad in the pretty lace panties you had bought just for him. Unfortunately, his palm was swatted with every scarce touch, throat squeezed and punished at the cost of a look. It really wasn’t fair, now was it? 

But, you didn't mind taunting him for your own gain. He had bottomed out in you, rutted until he filled your walls with hot spend many times before. You’d say too many as if he didn’t have you moaning and writhing whilst he filled every corner of your cunt over and over again, every time more pleasurable than the last. 

You kissed above his belly button before wiggling your free hand down your underwear, breath hitching as you cupped yourself, the heel of your palm brushing against your clit. 

“Baby–” Joel hissed. “That just ain’t fair.” 

“Who said anything about fair?” 

You definitely hadn’t. Joel had only complained about it since the night had begun, since the idea had been discussed. Your hips rolled upwards into your hand, moaning again, softer this time. 

“Patience, Joel. Just like you taught me.” 

Fuck. He oughta have you over the knee the moment you’re finished. The moment he’s used and softening which at this point in time, felt like you’d never let him cum. And that would only frustrate him more. 

You removed your palm from your undies, leaving your pussy pleading for more friction. Now, bracing clenched fists either side of him, you peered over his body, watching his coffee brown eyes look right back at you. He throbbed in response. 

“Can’t give two fucks about what I taught you, or what I didn’t fuckin’ teach you right now.” 

He growled, “Jus’ wanna fuckin’ cum.” 

At that, you leaned in and kissed his sternum. 

“I know, daddy.” You cooed.

And that fucking voice of yours. It was the verbal equivalent of being shackled and whipped. 

You’d breathe, peeling off your soaked panties and tossing them uncoordinatedly, to any odd place in Joel’s room, before straddling his thick, hairy thigh and grinding.  

“God– fuck!” Joel wretched. Feeling your warm, drenched folds gliding back and forth on his thigh. 

Unbridedly, he bounced his leg. His knee prodding against your entrance, you mewled, but quickly regained  your control as much as you wanted to get off. Joel was feigning for his own climax, hell, for a slow, languid touch of any sorts, he’d thank you for a mere prod against his head just for some stimulation. Babbling out anything that he thought could convince you.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.” 

And, also. 

“Any more of this, fuckin’ cock’s gonna explode–baby–please.” 

But, to no avail, more silence would fall into the air. He’d swallow down a whimper feeling your cunt contract against his leg. You watched his eyes squeeze shut, lips purse, brows knit in undying frustration. He. Needed. To. Cum. 

Then suddenly, you’d wrap a fist around his length, gratefully, he wailed. Eyes rolling back into his skull from the intense stimulant of your palm. His dick fluttering eagerly into your grasp. He worms himself backwards, just barely propping himself up so he could get the better angle to begin thrusting creaky hips into your hand. The base of your fist coming in contact with his thick patch of greying curls that crowned at the root of his cock. Matted and sticky with his fluids. 

Baby–sweetie, just–just a little more and–” 

You removed your palm from his shaft, he immediately throbbed violently, bobbing back against his tummy, his slit leaking like a fucking faucet. He cried, just a little louder this time. Sweat beading dramatically over the lines of his forehead. 

“FUCK!” 

That had been the loudest you had ever heard him. Without a doubt heard by the neighbors. The poor, unfortunate neighbors. 

“Shh, m’sorry, daddy.” You pressed a cruel, gentle kiss right to his cheek. Tracing up to nibble the shell of his ear. “Just a little more.” 

Just a little more?

Just a little more and his cock would fall out of commision for a good month. He’d have to strap the poor, crine thing into a cast and hope for the better. 

But, you had found yourself exploring up to his broad chest again, while your palm touched over his warm, sun-kissed skin, your other hand found his face, cradling his jaw before probing a finger to his lips, in which he let in, as humiliating as it was he sucked dumbly. Your fingertip resting against the hollow of his tongue. 

Accidentally, you brushed a finger over his nipple as you soothingly rubbed his chest, thus, making his teeth scrape against your knuckle and his hips spasm. Your stomach would plummet, taking a breath before running the pad of your index over the flat, erect tip again. 

This time, Joel moaned as more opaque, pearly liquid sputtered out his shaft. You’d take it as a sign and pinch. 

Your thumb popped out of his mouth as his breathing made quick, ragged gasps. His stomach intensely inflating and deflating with every hard, labored, huff and puff. It was safe to say, he was enjoying it now. You’d teased him far too long and far too painfully that you couldn’t refuse the provision of his pleasure any longer. You adjusted yourself so you could lay more comfortably against his side, throwing a leg over his own, running your lips over his collarbone as you thumbed around his nipple. 

You were quick to begin planting firm, wet kisses all down his chest before your breath would fan over the hardened bud on his right. Your tongue flattened, and you lapped a stripe up the sensitive peak, feeling the warm, velvety texture beneath the lick. 

“Mhm– yes– fuck. Jus’ like that, sweetheart and– oh–” 

His body shuddered, cock twitching violently as his heels hooked hard into his mattress, baring down involuntarily. 

His head craned back into his feathery soft pillow as he felt the oxygen being pulled from his lungs, and a numbness going from his base from his glands with an angry, heavy pulse. His balls pulled tightly, and with one more, gentle, sweet drag of your finger, he came. 

Thick, hot, milky globs of cum pumped out of his opening onto his tummy, you heard the head board rattle as he instinctively tried to pull his arm down to stroke himself through his climax, so, you’d gladly help him. 

You propped yourself onto the weight of your arm as you wrapped your fingers tightly against his dick, feeling him contracting violently with each warm rope of semen that jerked out of him. Sliding up and down in rough, satisfyingly slick pumps. Moans falling short of escaping his throat, only broken, desperate gasps. Your lips would lean in to gently suckle upon the head, the access pooling against your cheek as you palmed the rest into his stomach. 

You licked and sucked eagerly at his cock, relief crashing into his body like a fucking freit train. That familiar tingling sparkling beneath his skin. 

“Oh–thank you, baby…” He’d grunt, “Daddy really, really needed that.” 

You hummed around his shaft, eyes looking up at him with that certain glint. He was completely, utterly spent.

You’d wrung his sensitive, twitching cock against his thigh before placing one, gentle kiss to his emptied balls, pulling back up to look at him. Chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Tenderly moving a stray, sweaty curl away from his forehead. Your poor, tired, daddy. 

He was exhausted, but he smiled faintly at the touch. A stray act of kindness despite the night of torture you had given him. Though, it had all worked him into a state of mush against his bed. Pulling you against his side. 

“You’re mean.” He muttered, sighing heavily as he tugged his wrist away from its leather binds, the headboard whined. 

“If I was mean, I wouldn’t have made you cum, daddy.” 

It was fair, and true. But you also couldn’t put your poor, old man through blue balls just for a night of fun. 

“Huh, maybe you’re right.” He grumbled, noticing your eyes were locked onto his soft tummy, watching the fat, wet streaks of spend dribbling down his skin. Blissfully unaware of your surroundings for a moment. 

Joel would take that to his advantage. Using his freehand to work his wrist out of his belt. 

In a blink, both of his massive hands clamped your waist and forced you down prone into the bed, you’d moan, your hips wiggling up. Really, you only deserved it. Feeling a callused palm rubbing over the curve of your ass, you were still soaked. He groaned, stuffing his face into your hair and inhaling sharply. 

“You’ve had your fun, babygirl. My turn.” 

So much of wringing him away from his dominance. Still, yet to be proven impossible. Maybe you’d just need to tie a tighter knot. Or, bind his legs next. 

But for now, you’d bask in the feeling as he notches his cock to your cunt, and drives himself home. 

[rivereverie]

Astarion and Vanity

Spoilers for all of Astarion’s story through all acts of BG3. As always, this is just my interpretation and thoughts on the character from what I know, so feel free to disagree.

I feel that Astarion’s expression of vanity is a part of him that gets misread a lot. It’s something that is pointed to as one of his negative traits as though this vanity of his is sincere. Personally, I think his outward obsession with his own looks and charm is anything but shallow, and is yet another example of how his life experience and trauma has shaped him. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder (ha), and for the sake of this mild analysis, I’m going to be defining beauty as conventional physical attractiveness. The main point is that Astarion in-game is treated as being very attractive, so that’s how I will treat him in this conversation. Beauty can be a form of power; one Astarion was very clearly blessed with. While all the main companions in the game are designed to be rather attractive, for Astarion, this goes beyond simply wanting to appeal to the player and is not incidental. In my opinion, Astarion’s looks are crucial to his character. 

To briefly summarize what we all know about Astarion, he was thoroughly and systematically stripped of his autonomy and identity by Cazador. He was forced to adopt an incredibly narrow worldview of essentially: power = freedom = safety (simplified, of course). Throughout the game, he makes choices that slowly shape and are shaped by the man he’s becoming. By the end of the spawn route, he’s still only just beginning to really discover himself. This all is crucial to the heart of his character and influences all his actions. 

Given his hollow sense of identity, Astarion clings to certain traits which he parades around, making sure everyone knows these things about him. The most prominent of those traits being hedonism, sadism, selfishness, and vanity. In this post, I’m going to be focusing on the last item, though I do have a post on learned cruelty that delves into the trait of sadism in the context of his identity. The pattern here is that these traits are masks that serve to make him feel in-control of both himself and those around him. 

While Astarion may seem terribly vain, his appearance to others is actually a very deep-seated, sensitive issue that genuinely affects him. The infamous mirror scene may come across to some as him being shallow, at first, but really he’s right in what he said; his reflection is just one more thing that was taken from him, and it’s completely fair that he is angry and grieves. But this is also significant to him beyond the fact of its injustice, or the symbolism of reflection as identity. Let’s dive a little into his psyche, and guess at how he sees himself and the world: He’s spent the past 200 years being valued exclusively for his ability to bring back prey for Cazador and perform sexually. This equates to his charm and his body. After two centuries of being degraded and stripped of everything, and only ever getting any kind of positive reinforcement, praise, or acknowledgement for your looks and seductiveness, of course he’d begin unconsciously tying his sense of self-worth to his appearance. By Cazador, he was turned into a tool and a toy. By his targets, he was objectified. Dehumanized from both sides in different ways, and again, only valued for his body and whatever sweet words he could spin. This leaves him with his self-worth very profoundly tied to his appearance to others, as I said.

I imagine he had two main types of targets when under Cazador’s thrall: starry-eyed, naive folks who were swept off their feet, and more predatory characters who took advantage of an easy offer. The former were probably the only source of genuine positive attention he ever got for those 200 years, even if it was shallow. Since he cannot find self-affirmation by looking into a mirror, he finds new mirrors in the eyes of those who look upon him. His beauty is reflected in their hunger, their lust, their admiration, their bashfulness, their envy. Is it any wonder that now he flaunts himself, always making comments about how good he looks? If he doesn’t get an affirmative response, then at least it's his way of reassuring himself. Telling himself that he’s still valuable in the only way he knows how to assess his value. “I don’t need a reflection to know this looks fabulous”, he tells himself. This is why he makes so many seemingly vain comments. Why he’s so concerned with being done-up and looking good. Why he has spent so much time mending his clothes so he looks every bit the part of the dashing elven rogue. 

Speaking of his clothes, this is another way he’s clinging to his autonomy and identity even through all his years of torment. His clothes were probably one of the only things he was ever allowed to have. When you have so little, of course you’ll care for it, hence why the flavor text  for both his shirt and armor mention how his clothes are worn, but have been repaired many times by a careful hand. During those years under Cazador, it probably brought him a small sense of control to be able to mend and embroider his own clothes; the only things which he felt belonged to him, more so than his own body. Something familiar that gave him a sense of security and self. (This is why I adore the idea of him becoming a tailor after the story, because it's giving him a healthy outlet of personal expression and creating something that's entirely his own. Hobbies can be crucial to cultivating one's identity and self-esteem, and we all want that for him). Not to mention that Cazador probably would not have taken kindly to his spawn not looking their best, and that's probably a "rule" Astarion carried with him even into freedom.

I think the mirror scene is a lot more than him just seeking validation and showing us a glimpse into this part of his mind, though. It’s also about him genuinely trying to evaluate how the player character sees him, and shows how he’s trying to figure out his new identity in freedom, but that’s its own discussion for another time. I just think that it’s unfair for people to call him vain or shallow for caring about his reflection and appearance so much, when that’s all he was ever taught to value in himself.

 The only other significant way we see Astarion valuing himself is through his skills as a rogue, with his constant cocky comments about how easy it is for him. While this too is a form of external validation born of valuing himself for what he can do rather than what he is, it’s still a positive thing for him. The game doesn’t really address all this, but in my mind, him getting to make use of his skills and be valued as a part of a group that needs him is probably really good for his self-esteem at this point in his life. 

All of this to say, I don’t think it’s fair to cast judgement on him for being “vain”, given everything we know about him. There is a big difference between him and someone who genuinely sees the world through a shallow and judgmental lens. For him, his mask of vanity is a symptom of his pain and twisted worldview rather than something rotten born of privilege and a superiority complex. His self-aggrandizement is a necessary part of the narrative he’s building for himself: the vampire spawn who would ascend. Again, desperate to convince himself and those around him that he both wants and deserves this, even as his crooked worldview is being chipped away by genuine kindness and connection. This understanding of his mind shows why it’s so important to him that we see and love him for who he actually is, not just his charm and beauty. His heart is beautiful in an entirely different way that outshines his physical features, even if he himself doesn't see it. The hope is that, with his friends and perhaps partner at his side, he’ll learn to value himself for his own heart and soul; for the person he’s becoming as he gathers up the pieces of his identity. To see the light he holds within him that endured those centuries of darkness. Until the mirrors stop mattering.

[northwestcomixcollective]

post epilogue au bill jerry mandi schizoposting delirium whatever hte fuck Context here im quoting comic books and literature no one on tumblrs ever heard of its mostly for archive purposes and the people that care at least a little bit

i sort of picture bills homosexuality as sort of like a thing he would never admit to or act upon and especially with jerry being the only guy who's ever tried to reach out to him and be kind to him to touch him to reach out etc etc being deprived of human touch for 10 years i definitely think they're gay i picture him as a bukowski or crumb bu,t in the way they objectify and degrade women and not the sort of intellectual type and at the same time bwing q repressed homosexual virgin in his late twenties is something i really want to explore

sex isnt everythinf but seeing how important it is for them and how significative and how women are sexual objects and all i think it definitely affects his view on himselg

i think there's this underlying animalistic urge to be close and be together theyve been around eachother since they were kids they really have no one else that's been through what they've been through and even though jerry wants to let go bill is still stuck on it which is why he's so clingy to jerry he's the only thing he has left really the only person that reached out the only guy that somewhat cares i wouldnt be talking about bill clinging on like a koala ofherwise he really does """"love"""" jerry jn the sense he let him stay he touches his shoulder he gave him a change of clothes despite everything that hapoened see gif below

i definitely want there to be a scene of bill breaking down and being liek Jerry....... i like men.......... and just like crying geeking and jerry holding him close and putting his cold nose on his neck and telling him it's all finewhile holding him he caresses him blalallaa whatever for the first time in like 30 something years he feels appreciated loved and held jerry doesnt even know what he's doing holding this piece of shit garbage scum that said the most obscene garbage to his girlfriend who is in the next room ten years ago i think for jerry its also nice to hold him because his parents never really did it which is sort of shown in the pilot where he holds himself when he's excited or nervous as a self soothing method and he feels like hes giving the love he never really received as a child See picture below

in his mind bill really could change. Because he really could change he just needed the right people around him. the resentment he feels towards bill fluctuates he resents him for everything that happened at comic-con he resents him for never treating him well when they were younger he resents him for waltzing into his house drenched in snot rain and tears and taking up space in what was supposed to be a place he could be comfortable and at peace in

billjer i wanted to compare it to ralf könig's "swiss bliss" but bills friends aren't nearly as tolerant of gays as the guys friends who tell him he isnt gay and he's not like that and they dont believe it theyd straigjt up just exile him i think it's more like "maybe ... maybe not" again by ralf könig picture attached below jerry would never make a move first i think bills vulnerable situation and lack of human contact and sort of praise and appreciation he has for jerry for housing him would sort of bring him to do it i think if they ever got to kiss or make out like this styleit would be during a heated argument or while they're drunk they wouldnt be able to stop thems3lves but if it ever escalates i think jerry could easily let bill go and let him slam his head against something and just go into another room and start pacing fucking freaking out see picture below,

if anyone wants to jump me for shipping bill and mandi its3now or never SCREAM ID YOU LOVE BILL AND MANDI

although i asked dorkin and he already told me it isnt true i still want to explore mandi being the same girl that walked into joe's comic book store in "this monster, this fan" because of the character dynamics i could explore and thoughts and interpretations i dont givea fuck im schizoposting about bill blowing jerry im basically doing whatever i wajt with the already existing comic thog dont care i think they both remember the day really clearly but since bill is so so focused on jerry he barely even glances at her because she was basically violated by like. what 15 men in a comic book store including grown men taking a picture of her like thats vile bill doesnt want to think about it he doesn't want to confront her or say anything ever because the humiliation of already being in someone else's house eating their food taking up space is too much

see earlier mention of crumb

the way crumb depicts women as something divine unachievable incomprehensible and as sex objects and puts them in the strangest most violent situations where is definitely something i see bill in especially in the epilogue where he and the rest just start babbling about how the female cosplayers are too ugly fat or arent white and dont fit their standards the way they're always depicted reading smut pornography or just looking at pinups of women (sometimes in violent situations as well) and the interaction he had at joe's all formed and turned his mindset into something utterly vile negative and disgustifn

see previous mention of bukowski

in this book the narrator is always pointing out faults in women i definitely see him as bill in the sense of being so negative hateful and even when in love he still manages to criticize his potential lover it could be bill and mandi but their relationship is much more complex to me since neither of them actually love eqchpther they just carnally need one another the way he's just really pathetic drunk and all just reminds me of bill as well mandi hates bill for being a man she's attracted to him because he's so fucking pathetic and gross it's exciting bill is attracted to mandi because she's a woman he detests her for being a stupid cunt who speaks her mind and is independent theyre both secretly having an affair one is slightly homoerotic the other one is just straight up abusive bill doesnt like to talk to anyone in the house he's extremely embarrassed and ashamed not only because he's in his friends house living there with his girlfriend who he hates but because he had the balls to reach out for help especially from a guy who beat the shit out of him last time they ever saw eachother mandi tries to talk it out but bill is so unbelievably childish he doesn't speak to anyone or do anything he's just silent i love them because they beat the shit out of eachofher and bill is a sexist pig and mandi is a woman they're all having an affair with eachother if any of them find out the other one is dating everything will go down genuinely but it wont since they're all too busyv hiding something from the other

i definitely think he would crash out on her but in the most like. formal way possible because he doesnt want to get kicked out and its shown he sort of knows when it's appropriate to shut up unlike josh who just starts geeking

+ jerry & mandi sketch im not finishing to get a glimpse into what i picture them both to be. healthy happy and everything good

[hyukascampfire]

𝔎𝑅𝐴𝑀𝑃𝑈𝑆ℵ𝐴𝐶𝐻𝑇 ⼎˒ c.yj & c.bg

݁ ˖ 𝔎r⍺mpus𝔫⍺cht

[ 𝔡.] krampus, creatures of european folklore, come one winter’s night every year with exactly one duty: to punish the naughty, who they are said to either eat or drag down to the hell from which they came. assigned to you this year are two of krampus' most revered helpers. they adore their purpose. come december 5th, they make their march through the snow and toward the sweetest treat that they might ever have the opportunity to crack. ˖ ݁

˒˓ ﹐ ⧼ 🐾 ⧽ ･ 6.6k

𝔭airings ˒ krampus!yeonjun & krampus!beomgyu 𝓍 reader

𝔤 ; smut

𝔴arnings ˒ smut, pwp, fingering, cunnilingus, threesome, punishment, objectifying language and degradation, choking on fingers, bondage, overstimulation, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), a healthy dose of fear, mean dom! beomgyu & teasing soft(er?) dom yeonjun, it’s really just generally nasty, hair pulling, dacryphilia, clit overstim…, demeaning usage of the words slut and whore, the boys don’t cum or even try to, masks for just the littlest of time, no mxm, really there's so much so tell me if i missed anything!

✎୭ ashlynn’s note request by anon & the sexy sexy @thetxtdevil , thank you for blessing me with this. this is by far the filthiest thing i've written. 6k of pure smut from start to finish. i'm so nervous oh my gosh, i feel like the characterization was new for me. regardless, enjoy my yeonjun much agenda!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

From a light and easy sleep, your eyes flicker open to a tap at your window. Shifting against your warmed blankets, you push up off the bed. With your knuckles, you rub sleep from your eyes. 

Outside, there’s nothing but night sky. Moonlight beams in, all still. It washes your room in a slight, silvery haze. All is how it should be. 

Except for the window. Your curtains dance and billow in a breeze that should not be there. You frown, blinking at it with heavy eyes and a sleep-addled mind. 

You’re sure that’d been closed when you fell asleep. Sleeping with windows open during the summer? Sure. But in deep winter, where even the branches have frozen over and snap off under its weight? No; you hadn’t left the windows open. You hadn’t even opened them at all. Dragging heavy limbs up from where the mattress had formed to their shape, you slip from bed. 

At the window, pulled open to one side, you poke your head outside. Nothing but snow blankets and soft flurries greets you. An ice-cold breeze howls and comes through the open window, bitterly cold against your toasty skin. You run your hands up and down the bare expanse of your skin, hoping for friction to keep the chill at bay. 

You close the window with a firm hand. The lock twists under your fingers with a sure click. Tugging on the window, you make sure that it’s closed once more. And then twice more. 

The bed, still warmed, greets you lovingly. It’s not long before the fog of sleep falls back over you. You tug your blanket closer, and give in to it. 

Tap. Fog receding, you push up from the mattress and strain your ear. 

Tap. Tap.  

Blood running cold, you freeze. It sounds something like a stray tree branch, scraping claws for branches down the glass. Something in it sounds intentional, though.  

The tapping continues for a few more long moments. You can hear your blood roaring through your veins. Maybe a bird’s perched on the ledge? Or perhaps the tree beside your window’s gone awry. 

Behind you, there’s a scrape, or maybe a rustle. You whip your head around. In the center of your chest, your heart stops cold. 

There, a shadowy figure in your doorway, stands a man. He’s tall, only a few inches from brushing up against the door frame, with a broad set of shoulders and long, long legs that seem to continue down from him infinitely. Silken fabric dangles down from his hand, and on his face— 

A mask. Toothy and wood carved and shining in the moonlight with some glazes, it’s terrifying. Especially over the face of an intruder in your home. 

Your chest is tight. He stands there—an imposing presence—in the doorway. Watching. Observing. 

No matter how you will it, you can pull no words up from your throat. They’re all jammed in there tight—constricted by a clawed hand of terror. Your lips tremble around your open-mouthed drags for breath.  

The man steps into your room. Every last drop of blood and rationality you’ve got in you screams. It tells you to run; to dart. Toward or away from him, either would be better than this. 

You can’t. Right where you are, lifted from the bed and weight leaned back into your palms, you are utterly frozen. You swallow dry and blink fast, scared to succumb to the darkness of a blink for even a moment. 

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out hoarse. It takes everything in you. Every trembling ounce of energy, every last reserve of bravery you have stashed away for moments like these. But you said it, and that’s better than shaking here as if it’ll do anything for you. 

“Naughty fox,” he says, littered with taunt and bad intent. His voice muffles against the wood mask, but it comes out younger than you might have thought. “Don’t you recognize me? Or do I not look how you expected?” 

Recognize him? No, of course you don’t. Certainly not with that mask on, but you don’t recognize that build or voice, either. You stare at him bug-eyed. 

Beneath the veneered wood, he lets out a puffed laugh. “Hmm,” he says. He reaches up and pulls the mask from his face. “Perhaps you don’t. It doesn’t matter. What are you going to do when my friend gets here? Tremble like a leaf, like you are now? I think he will like your fear much more than I do.” 

His voice is syrupy and sing-songy, and he’s got the face to match. Dullness hangs heavy and dark beneath his sharp eyes. His skin is sullen beneath the pale moonlight, but you think it might look that way even under the sun’s gaze. And, on his mouth, he wears a smile like cracks in a porcelain vase. It gets under your skin, walking a shiver up your spine. 

Your stomach does flips and rolls. What does he mean, his friend? Finding your fear enjoyable? You open and close your mouth a few times. You are so, utterly screwed. From his head, brownish horns stand proud. You don’t even know how to begin to rationalize that. Quite frankly, the look he pins you with is equally terrifying and hard to swallow. 

“Look at you. You can’t even move,” he hums, voice like knives. “I might believe the scared little lamb act, if I didn’t know exactly how you acted this year; if it wasn’t exactly why I am here.” 

Fingers and toes gone numb, you look him over once more. Down to the hollow eyes and angles of his face, he is beautiful. Hauntingly beautiful; the kind of presence that might enchant you for all its unease, and stick with you for much longer than you suffered it. “Why are you here?” you say. You hate how your voice comes out: mousey. Pitiful. You sound every last bit the terrified thing he accuses you of being. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re in my house.” Around the words, your jaw trembles. Just like the rest of you. 

In the darkness of his eyes, something akin to wicked interest twinkles. Or, perhaps moonlight. His long legs eat up the distance between the door and your bed with only a few languid steps. The only sound in your room is the thuds of his heavy boots against the wood paneling. 

Looking down at you with eyes that eat and eat, he scoffs. “Well, you don’t know me because good people don’t know me. But you weren’t good this year, were you? So, you will know me,” he says. “We all have to atone for our actions.” 

Utterly still. He’s so still that he absolutely cannot be human. Not if he has to breathe or... anything. But he doesn’t. He just looks down at you with that bone-chilling taunt. Those horns look beyond real up close, too. And, that smile... that isn’t human, either.  

“But, isn’t it so fun that you can answer for it like this?” he says. “In the same way you treated those poor men. You can take what you give, can’t you?” 

You blink up at him. He breaks into your home, into your room, talking about something you’ve done? “I don’t...” you begin, the words both unsure and twisted with fright for his closeness. “I don’t know what you mean. Who are you?” 

“Maybe you think putting up a ridiculous act like this might save you, but it will not.” He runs his tongue over the razor edge of a pointed incisor. “I think I’ll humor you. I am Yeonjun, and my friend is Beomgyu. We are Krampus’ creatures. We come to exact his will onto any stupid little human that’s forgotten themselves this year,” he says. “And you; you haven’t been so good this year, have you? Leaving men like victims, playing with their hearts like toys. From a sweet thing like you, I am quite amused. Really.” 

All the way from the back of your jaw to your chin, he drags his knuckles. As he takes your chin, you allow the chill to seize your body. It’s no use fighting the shudder; you think you might even enjoy the thrill of it. It’s a strange thought. You try and snuff it out, but to rational thought’s dismay, it only fans the flames of the fire set in your core. Your cheeks radiate with that heat, painted a flushed pink that you don’t know how to swallow, either. 

Though that awful, corrosive grin has dropped from off his mouth, a different smile tugs the corns of his lips. It’s loose, much less intense than the consuming of his eyes. “Look at you. I see it. I see that look in your eyes,” he hums. “How would you like to repent, sweet thing? Like this?” 

Slowly, you nod. Looking into those deep, voracious eyes, you should feel scared. And you are. But, in this way—like this, you are not. Maybe it’s the hungry gnashing between your thighs, or maybe you’ve gone and lost your mind.  

He tilts his head up in a quick gesture. “Lay back.” 

The breath in your throat catches. Looking up at him all dumbfounded, you open your mouth to speak. 

Raising his brows in a patronizing lift, he challenges you with dark eyes. “This is not a good foot to start your punishment off on, now, is it? Can’t listen... You’d better get listening, before Beomgyu arrives. He won’t be so kind,” he says, tilting his head to one side something like an animal watching a meal squirm just before they sink their teeth into it. “Lay down on the bed.” 

You kick your legs out from the tangle of the bed and settle down onto your back. Tingling, you press your knees together until there is hardly a seam. In their place, your bones buzz with a self-destructive sort of excitement. Between your mind and body, there’s a lag. Where your body stays here, idling a thousand miles per minute, your mind has floated off somewhere out of touch. Clear thought has gone with it. 

Whoever this friend he continues to mention is, you’re not sure you want to meet him. Maybe that’s exactly what Yeonjun wants: a strange fear like anticipation, placing obedience over you like a collar.  

All breathy-like, you say, “When is he coming? Your friend?” 

He runs his thumb over the inner side of your knee, narrowing his eyes down on you. “Are you excited to see him?” he asks. “You don’t get to think about that. Rotten whores don’t get to be excited about their punishments.” Unravelling that silken fabric from his hand, he circles the bed until he’s at your side. 

The name puffs smoke into your mind like a beekeeper might do to a rowdy hive—it renders you affable. “I’m not a whore,” you say, conviction weak. 

“Aren’t you?” he sneers through a curled lip. Taking your wrists, he raises them up to the headboard above you. The silk is soft enough against your skin as he secures you to it. Maybe a little tight. 

Tight, and restrictive. You try and wiggle yourself free to no avail. Here, with your hands up and bound so that you couldn’t undo them no matter how you try, there’s a twinge in your stomach. 

Yeonjun likes that. He reaches down and places his hand flat over your torso and says, “You get it now, don’t you?” 

Licking your dry lips, you look up at him round-eyed. “I don’t know what I did,” you say. The sheets beneath you rustle against your shifting. “Why are you... punishing me? I’m not a bad person.” 

“I don’t think it’s up to you to decide what kind of person you are,” he says, slow and accompanied by a false smile. “Do you want to know what kind of person I think you are?” Fingers dancing along the waist of your flimsy pajama bottoms, he flirts with the promise of undressing you. But he does not tug. Breaths fall shakily past your parted lips. 

You shake your head. No, you do not. You know you won’t like whatever he has to say about you, if the look in his eyes and the fact that he’s even here has anything to say of it. 

His fingers brush against the soft skin of your belly as he hooks them under the waistband. “That’s why we’ve come. Don’t worry; I’ll show you exactly what I think of you,” he tells you. Your bottoms loosen around your skin as he drags them down. “Lift your hips.” 

Digging your feet into the mattress, you oblige him. The slipping of your bottoms down your thighs, and then past your feet, brings a wave of reality crashing down over you. Your breaths quicken. 

You’d dampened your panties; a little wet patch over grey cotton announces your arousal to whoever might catch a glimpse. His eyes latch onto the sight. 

He brings his gaze back up to you, black eyes amused. “Look at that,” he coos. “What a sweet slut you are. So dirty that she can’t help but soak her panties at the thought of being punished. That’s fucking pathetic.” The words slither out like venom, burning through your delicate skin. 

The entirety of your body jumps at a slap in the shape of his hand against your outer thigh. A chesty yelp crashes out from your throat. The skin there raises in a welt and prickles like tiny, little fires as he runs a hand over it. You might think that it’s meant to soothe, if the smoothing touch didn’t exalt the dazzling bite. He doesn’t mean to soothe.  

Blinking away twinkling tears, you say, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did...” 

Brushes of his fingers over that damp smear send electricity bolting up your lower back. “You’re not sorry yet. Sorry would look a lot different from this. I think there’s still a great deal of straightening up to do, and you’re going to take every last bit of it. And you’ll enjoy it, won’t you?” he says. “I mean, you’ve soaked your panties. You’re excited to be used, like you use men in your bed. Used like a whore. The heavens are looking, darling.” 

You shift your wrists against their binds, hot under his words like red-hot knives along your skin. Anticipation shoots up your spin as he tugs your panties down now, too. “I’m not a whore,” you shudder out. 

The slickness of the sounds from between your thighs as he parts you with two fingers has your ears burning. His middle finger prods at your hole, and it flutters against it. Collecting some of your slick arousal right from its source, he dips his finger just in and brings it up to display the sticky mess over his fingers. It glistens in the night’s lowlight, catching light in a lewd, humiliating display. He furrows his brows. “Are you sure?” 

You’re not sure how to answer that. Even you know that you’re beyond wet. So, you just watch open-mouthed as he slips his to middle fingers into you. You rustle against the bed with the intrusion, and then again as he begins pumping them in and out of you, pressing against your walls during some and spreading your walls during others. Capturing your lip, you sigh. 

The slight sparks in your belly, and the slick sounds of his fingers working you open—it’s maybe absurd, but nothing you can’t handle. Why he thinks that fingering you might be a punishment, you’re not sure. You just bask in the ebbing rays of twitching muscles, letting soft sounds fall out when he brushes up against a delicate spot. 

His eyes drink you in, working his giving arm diligently. Looking down at you from his nose, he says, “You like that? Of course you do. You’re a filthy slut that’ll take anything she can get. You’re making a mess of my fingers. You’ll clean that up, won’t you?” 

Face burning, you let your eyes flutter shut. Your lashes dust against your shame-reddened cheeks. You know you’re not who he’s painting you to be—you don’t go around like that. It’s not fair. Especially not when this is what he does; coming to exact some sort of flimsy justice in the price of flesh. “D—you do this to everybody you punish?” you say through gritted teeth. “Have sex with them? I don’t think you can... judge me.” 

It’s as if he can feel the sputtering in your belly himself. His fingers, glistening in a thick smearing of you, turn from tantalizing pumps to punctual curls. Your moth falls open into a silent gasp, brows knitted and furrowed. You can hear yourself. So can he—if the twitching of his narrowed eyes says anything. He plays with one of his pointed teeth, something almost vampiric, again. “Not everybody,” he coos. “Just pretty toys like you. Pretty things we can use, and then throw away when they break, without feeling too bad.” 

The silk digs into your wrists, holding you without remorse. You try and rebel against it, hands itching furiously with the need to dig your fingers into his arm, or curl into the sheets, or just grab. Push. You don’t know—all you know is that he beckons a razor-sharp orgasm toward you, and all the hair on your body prickles at its rushing presence. Hoarse groans, filtered through your tense throat and tight jaw, mingle with the wetness of his fingers in your cunt. “W—hah—I don’t—” 

“Stupid,” he mocks. God, his fingers. He knows just where to play; how to turn you even more the fool he claims you are. “You can’t even fucking talk. Your brain’s gone all dumb, huh? On what, just my fingers? I wonder how you’ll handle me. The both of us.” he says. His voice is utterly even despite his fingering. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” 

Eyes and nose and throat burning, it’s like lifting the weight of the sky to open them. But you do. The image of him is bleary, smudged by the nearness of release like heat waves. Like a mirage. And, if you weren’t able to confirm him by the fluttering of your hole around his fingers, or the thickness of them inside you, you might be able to convince yourself that he was just that: a mirage. But, he is real.  

And you’re made to feel how real he is as he tugs his fingers from you, ripping everything away in an excruciating blink of an eye. Just like that, he’d stolen your orgasm. A long, complaining sound comes from your chest. Your blood jumps to the surface, whip-lashed. Between your thighs, all that excitement and pure electricity, it all pulls back like ocean tide.  

You know why he’d done it, and you know why he wanted you to watch as he did. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “You don’t get to cum. Not until we break down that mind of yours, and built it back up. Into something better. Worse.” 

Heavy boots thud against the floor in front of your window. Whipping your head toward the sound, you find a second man, or... whatever they are, broken in to your room. Your heart thuds in your chest, maybe with the sharp claws of fear around it, or maybe with the loss of ecstasy. You tug against the restraints again as he stands there. A mask, no different from Yeonjun’s, obscures his face. This time, you know that the horns curving from his head are real. He’s not so tall as Yeonjun, but he’s broader. And, something about the way he’s stood there, taking you in... it’s also different. It brushes up against something deep and primal inside you, preserved inside you as instinct to protect against moments like this. 

And, it tells you that tied up is a terrible thing to be, when a creature is looking at you like that. You press your thighs together. 

“Oh, look who’s come,” Yeonjun purrs. 

The air is tense for a moment. The new figure, Beomgyu, reaches up for his mask. It clatters against the ground. 

Seeing his face revealed is the same as it was with Yeonjun. Your eyes dart over each feature. Beautiful and put together in such a perfect way, but tainted by a guttural eeriness. His eyes are heavy and mousey brown, just like his mess of hair. 

And, if Yeonjun’s snark and smiles had been offsetting, then Beomgyu’s serenity is beyond that. Hair-rising. Rotten.  

Yeonjun, beside you now, runs his fingers through the hair on the top of your hair. He curls them into it and tugs as he says, “Aren’t you excited now, dove?” 

Whimpering at the sting, you breathe out, “Yes.” 

Rough fingers joining Yeonjun on your body, Beomgyu brushes his fingers over your outer calf almost captivated. Almost. His touch is different from Yeonjun’s, and that’s all it takes to show you why Yeonjun had spoken of him how he had. He is different.

The both of them roam their hands over you, here and there—featherlight touches everywhere. 

The bed dips and accepts Beomgyu’s weight as he climbs up onto his knees. Hard fingers biting into the plush of your thighs, he takes them into his hands and pries you open. Those deep, odd eyes inspect your cunt. His tongue darts out to wet his snow-chapped lips. “Such a pretty pussy,” he says. The tenor of his voice is both the type of cold that could freeze right through you, and the type of blistering hot that will eat you down to ash. “Keep them open for me.” 

“She does have a pretty pussy,” Yeonjun hums from beside you. His gaze lights up your face. 

It’s hard to breath around the thick knot in the center of your chest. Though your thighs go to snap closed as he splays his hand over your lower belly, lightning twisting your insides, you don’t allow them to. You’re not quite sure you want to see what disobeying this pair would mean. 

God, you’re wet. It dribbles down into the sheets beneath you. You know he sees it, too. His eyes are hungry at it. 

Beomgyu tugs you further down the bed toward him; as far as your restraints will let him before going taut. They tighten around your skin. “Are you scared?” he says. It’s clinical, in a strange sort of sinister way. “You’re shaking.” 

You go to answer him, but can’t speak around the thumb Yeonjun dips into your mouth. He speaks instead. “She’s excited. So excited; you should’ve seen her earlier. Crying over my fingers, just ‘cause she couldn’t cum.” Spikes of his raven hair hang over his eyes as he looks down at you. His eyes narrow. 

The two share a look. It’s enough to get you nervous. Breaking into a scoff, Beomgyu works on his bottoms. 

“You’re gonna be good and take it, right, baby?” Yeonjun says, talking at you more than to you. “It’s only what you deserve.” 

Taking one of your thighs up and lifting it over a broad shoulder, Beomgyu cuts in, “Keep her straight for me, won’t you?” He runs his length up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. Each bump at your clit has you sighing and jumping. 

“You already get her first.” Yeonjun glares daggers.  

Beomgyu’s answering grin tells plenty of what the two think of each other. You’re not really certain they’re true friends. Maybe that’s just the nature of whatever they are, though.

Letting his cockhead tap against your throbbing clit a few times, he feeds off your struggling sounds. Pleased, he pushes into you without ceremony. Your walls are eager to accept every solid inch of him. More than length, though, it’s the thickness of his cock that you have to stretch around. You puff out a whiny sigh and tug on your bottom lip with your teeth. 

Once he’s into you down to the hilt, he pushes off his heels and climbs over you. Coming face-to-face with him, shaggy locks brushing over his eyes, you realize how pretty he is. Is that a ridiculous thing to consider in this circumstance? With him balls-deep in you? Maybe. 

“It’s a shame Yeonjun likes them tied up,” he muses, bracing one hand in the bed at your side and the other pressing your one thigh now to your front. “I’d like to feel your nails on me as you try and handle your punishment.” 

You swallow hard. He’s still nestled and dormant inside of you. The thought alone has your muscles fluttering around him. 

A knowing light passes over his eyes. He pulls his length from you, all the way to where his thick tip pops free from you, and then he fucks himself back into you. “You’re so fucking shameless,” he spits. 

Yeonjun’s fingers through your hair is the only thing you can register as Beomgyu sets a thundering pace. You squirm and arch your back from the mattress to try and catch up, to breathe. None of it makes the slide of his cock or the nudging of him against your sweet spot any less wholly overwhelming. Whining and mewling through gritted teeth, you say, “Oh—fuck, yes! Beomgyu, right there, feels so good right there...” The words twist and slur, your voice breaking under his thrusts.  

“It does? Should I keep fucking you like this?” he says. His hips slow, and he says, “Or should I slow down? Just because I can?” 

Your chest burns. The need to cling to him has the bindings tightening around your wrists impossibly more. All your tugging does is make things worse for yourself. Speaking, the words come out in a fumbling plead. “No—Please, please don’t stop. I wanna cum. Do anything, but please, don’t stop.” 

Piping up from beside you, Yeonjun sneers, “Ask him correctly. No whining.” 

Fighting the desire to wiggle your hips enticingly just for an inch of friction against his cock still nestled inside your cunt, you say, “Please, fuck me.” It’s hard not to mumble the words for shame, but you know that’s not what they want. They want you ashamed; to peel down the layers of societal decorum and turn you into some animal. 

“That’s more like it,” Beomgyu says. He rewards you with those same mouth-watering, tear-inducing strokes once more. “You don’t get to keep your modesty. We know what you’ve done; you can’t pretend to us.” 

So fast, right in your center, that knot begins tightening once more. You writhe and whimper. Where his cock digs into you, the muscles turn each time. 

Yeonjun watches every last bit of your struggling. His eyes dance over your screwed up face, and he listens with intent to your crackling cries. Stroking his fingers over your neck and face and through your hair, you’re not sure if he means to soothe or wind you up. “You’re doing fine,” he coos. “Still breathing?” 

You’re hot and clammy all over. “Mhm!” you mewl. Beomgyu reaches down and pinches hard on your clit. It draws a broken cry out from you, arching off the bed so that your front melds into his. The headboard groans and crackles against your violent tugging. You curl and splay your fingers frantically to try and itch the overflowing urge to grab or claw.  

Beomgyu’s wild eyes get a wry look, and his hips take a new angle. It’s like blinding white on your brain. The drags of his cock, fucking you into the bed, Yeonjun’s dusted touches and Beomgyu’s touches like claws, the delirious spasming of your inner muscles, and the weight of their combined looking, it’s all compiled and too much. You cum blisteringly with a cry. And, with your hands tied up, you’ve got no choice but to suffer its wrath.

It’s a suffering that makes you feel infinitely more alive. 

Floating down, your chest heaves for scarce breath. Ecstasy drips through your veins slow like honey. Past it, you can hear nothing more than a shuffling. That doesn’t matter right now, though. The sweetness of it clogs your senses and has you content. All you can really taste is the sugary goodness of pleasure pulsing through you. 

In the midst of the blur, you think you hear a sly, foxy voice right in your ear. He whispers something along the lines of, “Now that the brute’s done.” 

The weight of Beomgyu hovering over your chest and a puff of cool air over your sloppy cunt are enough to drag your mind toward clarity. Enough to realize that they are by no means done with you yet. 

Clearing thick syrup from your thoughts, you say, “What are you doing?”

You can’t see past him, but you know Yeonjun’s settled between your legs. He holds your thighs wide open like a silver platter. And your cunt, the delicacy. He doesn’t even bother pinning you—Beomgyu does the job for him. Without fanfare, plump lips press an open-mouthed kiss right over your begging clit. The little wet pressure is electrically charged, sending bolts of jagged lightning spiraling up your spine. Your hips jump against it. It’s no use, though. Between the two of them, you’ve got nowhere to go. You are right where they want you. A breath of a laugh falls onto your cunt.  

Beomgyu lifts himself enough to drag your shirt up your torso and bunch it over the swell of your chest. “Don’t ask questions,” he says, pinching your rosy nipple. You choke a gasp. At the attention, both of them tighten into stiff little peaks, prickling hard. “Just fucking take it. You’ll take what you get.” He spits the words out like venom that’s burning his tongue. 

Yeonjun peppers little kisses over the entirety of your cunt, lingering over your hole and right over your clit. You gasp and quake as it reawakens the aftershocks of your all-too-recent orgasm. Beomgyu, not one for dainty touch, palms your tits like dough. He leaves red in the wake of his touch, pinching here and there. Their touches blend; Yeonjun’s intentionally placed brushes, and Beomgyu’s unapologetic play. The tang of blood is heavy on your tongue—you’d bitten your lip raw trying to filter your sounds.  

When Yeonjun flattens his tongue and flicks it up the underside of your clit, though, none of your efforts stifle the guttural cry that it beckons from you. Each of his touches after that, the suckling of it in his puckered lips, the grazing of teeth, and the occasional dips to collect your arousal like sticky sweetener straight from the source, have your body wracked with tingles and flesh-deep shudders. He’s tying that knot right back up in your gut as though somebody might tie the stem of a cherry with their tongue. Each pitiful, pitchy sound you make, he answers with a sound muffled into your pussy.  

Hair dangling down in his eyes and obscuring the rotten look in his eyes, Beomgyu runs a splayed hand up the plane of your chest. The smoothing over skin is a much more innocuous sound in the air than the sloppy sounds of Yeonjun drinking you up. When he reaches the fragile column of your throat, your heart skips a few beats, laying down like a frightened animal in your chest. It comes back to life when he doesn’t stop there. He reaches your mouth and drags your bottom lip down with the rough pad of his thumb, tilting his head back to get a good look at you. 

“Open your mouth.” Beomgyu reaches up for the headboard, where your wrists are secured. He fumbles with it for a moment before the silk flutters down. The release from the strain—from the cutting of the fabric into your skin—is enough to send a chill down you. Your nipples tighten impossibly further with it. Soothing over the indented skin, you bask in the freedom to move. If only you could reach past Beomgyu to dig your fingers through Yeonjun’s hair. 

Hips twitching both into and away from Yeonjun’s suckling mouth, it takes you a moment to get to it. He splays you open further, licks up the sensitive underbelly of your nub harder. Competing to hold your attention. 

 Open your mouth? Whatever his intention is, you both itch for it and dread it. You let him slip his two middle fingers past your lips and over your tongue. The sensation of him pressing down on it is foreign. You furrow your brows up at him with your mouth split over his digits, saliva pooling at the floor of your mouth. Your limbs and stomach tighten, frame going rigid. If he were to just slide them a little further, you know you’ll be fighting for breath. 

And, of course he does. Eyes narrowing and twitching with wicked delight, he pushes them right for your gag reflex. “Let’s see deep you can take it,” he coos. 

Your belly jumps. He’d found your limit. For a moment, he holds it there, even as you squirm. Even as you dig your crescents into his wrist. When he finally pulls them free from your throat, you sputter and swim for breath. Your nose burns, and tears cling like dew in your lashes as you look up at him with round eyes. He scoffs a laugh, his fingers a glistening mess of your mouth. 

Holy shit.  

“Since Yeonjun’s got a soft heart,” he says, pressing his fingers back over the path he’d made the first time. He pushes and pulls them in and out of your mouth the same as he might your cunt, making sure to push down on your tongue with each drag out. “He’s going to let you cum. So, I’ll have to keep you quiet somehow. Don’t want the neighborhood to know what a filthy, rotten girl you are, do you?” Capricious him—a moment ago, he’d wanted you screaming. He just wanted to see you gag on his fingers. 

 You claw for your life, dizzied just enough to feel like it’s heaven’s gates you see behind your closed eyes, rather than the fiery iron gates you fear you’ll be seeing instead. Especially after this; especially as you feel them eroding down your virtue with their poisonous touch. 

Like his words had summoned it, the bumps of Yeonjun’s strong and tall nose against your waiting clit as he laps at your hole pushes you right over the ledge. You’d been dangling there for so long, the fall is almost rapturous. And, when you hit the ground, stars dapple your vision like you’ve really been hit. You go tight like a calm before a crashing, thunderous storm. Releasing, you explode in lightning and shaking limbs. Through it, you dig your heels into the mattress and buck into Yeonjun’s mouth, you rake lines down Beomgyu’s skin and wail around his fingers. You seethe like a storm. 

Rumbled breath goes right into your throbbing, aching core. Yeonjun doesn’t stop on your cunt. If anything, the fluttering of your hole and the twitching of your clit eggs him on. He feasts and feasts like your pussy is the first meal he’s had since arriving here through the snow-fallen woods. Your insides protest the overstimulation, wringing you out almost painfully. Tears fall molten down your temples, wetting the hair that frames your face. Beomgyu, and his weight above you, might act as a grounding presence, if not for the way he watches in cruel delight as you choke and drool over him. 

Beomgyu sneers down at you, “Look at you: slobbering all over my hand. You don’t disappoint, do you? Is this where you thought you’d end up when you screwed others over?” 

It’s not like you can answer him. You just squeeze your eyes shut to brave the roiling in your stomach as they work in tandem to force you right from one orgasm into another without respite. You’re wound up so tight—so, so tight. Sobbing and thrashing; you’re not sure you can handle another. Where the first had been smooth like syrup, and the next even sweeter, this third one feels destructive. This one feels like destruction. 

Freeing his fingers, he wipes them down your cheek. You choke and sputter, lungs burning. He must’ve seen something in your eyes. 

“Too—to much! I can’t... take it,” you mewl. It’s hoarse, but you don’t care. Right now, all that exists is Yeonjun’s hot tongue and the terrifying climax he intends to bring you with it. He indulges in a cocky grin against your pussy for just a moment before brushing his teeth over your clit. 

Speaking for the first time since he’d gotten his mouth on you, Yeonjun’s voice is husky. “Hmm? Even if I...” He flicks his tongue up your clit. Your voice catches in your throat, along with your breath. He’d been torturing the poor bud all night—it throbs hard and twitches at just the slightest attention. “Do that?” 

“Yeonjun,” you cry, warbled around a knot in your throat. It’s half plead for mercy, half plead for more. He continues, keeping his touch cruelly light. Not enough to give you that mercy, but enough to keep you needing it. “Go—d, please!” You don’t know if you’re asking for him to let up, or for more. Either would be better than this. Your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“Ask for something if you want it,” Beomgyu spits. “If you wanna fucking cum, ask properly. How many times do you have to be told this?” 

You have no shame. Not like this. Shame was something you let them crush up to dust the moment they put their hands on you. Poor voice shot and whiny, you rush out, “Yeonjun, please. I want to cum so bad, I’ll do anything. Just please—ah!—let me.” 

“That’s it,” he says. The corners of his lips twitch. “That’s all I want to hear from your mouth. Words befitting of a slut. But you’ll take what we give you, and that’s that. You don’t get to pick—you just take it.” 

You don’t even hear any of it. Yeonjun pinches your clit one final time. It’s such a slight touch; it’s absurd how your body crumbles at it. Thighs snapping shut around Yeonjun’s ears, you shake violently. It’s nothing to deter him—he works you through it anyway. You don’t even have anything more than slurred, nonsensical whines. 

When Beomgyu pushes off your chest, you blink slowly at the sight of Yeonjun there. His mouth comes off you an utter, obscene mess. Your essence glistens in the moonlight, smeared down his chin and his cheeks and over his swollen lips. He looks absolutely drunk.  

Finally, you for the first time since they’d come, you slump. Your bones and muscles creak. Dragging in quick, panted breaths, the only thing you worry about is feeding your starved brain oxygen and letting the liquid sun still hung heavy in your veins dissipate. 

Beomgyu doesn’t even leave you with any parting words. Tugging his clothes on, he’s slipping out the window, just as he’d arrived here. He’d gotten his fill. 

They’d drained everything from you. You can’t even press yourself from the bed to catch your breath. Yeonjun swipes his tongue over his mouth and cleans the rest of his face off with the back of his hand. 

 Bent over and his mouth so near your ear that you feel each word, he tells you, “Next year, I think I’d like to have you all to myself. Do you think you can do that for me? Allow me that?” 

The fanned words over your cheek—it makes you think that those words he’d whispered in your earlier were not just a figment of your post-orgasmic imagination.

Shuddering, you hope as he follows Beomgyu out the window that he saw in your eyes that you have no intentions of playing saint this next year. 

Not now, anyway.  

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn’s note so now that we’re all furiously turned on,, how was it? omg i’m nervous for real.

﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , @304files , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[multifandomloverthrowaway]

Viktor Was a Wasted Character

(But are we really surprised?)

This is my first post ever on Tumblr so please be nice! This is in no way hate towards any particular character or ship; personally I love Viktor as a character and all his ships, and that’s the main reason why I’m posting this. I also know like no LoL lore, so please bear with me. I’m just going to rant and dump my thoughts out here since I don’t really have fans in person to talk to about this, and it’s really bugging me lol!

That being said, I just watched season two, and after sitting with it’s ending, I do not think that the story told in the season is well thought out, and it can be very heavily seen in how characters are treated both in the show and in the fandom. It’s quite disheartening to see the fandom going through the peak-fandom era treatment of mlm and wlw relationships, and the overall treatment of the characters can be a little trashy. How people see Viktor can be very degrading and objectifying, and the whole ship wars and fallout with JayVik is absolutely disgusting. It makes me feel that many watchers did not fully understand Viktor’s character. And to a certain extent, the writers did not care for it either.

Viktor’s character represents what would happen if a Zaunite were able to become “successful” in the eyes of Piltover. Someone who had the intellect and ambition to supersede the conditions in Zaun and were able to compete with those raised in the “better city”. Thus, the questions of “How did they get to their place in Piltover?”, “What flaws do they have?”, “What is holding them back?”, “What is their experience in Piltover like?”, “Are they accepted?”, “Is there prejudice?”, and “What was their life in Zaun like?” are the core questions that make the character and their arc. This character is particularly important because this is the character that shows that those who are oppressed, no matter how “good” they are, will never be good enough in the eyes of the oppressor, especially if they have faults of their own. Viktor is fundamental to the message of season one Arcane. He helps to complete the story in its exploration of class, social, and political divide by personifying that “what if it could work” gap.

Viktor naturally then must be an internally strong character. Giving Viktor a disability is not just good inclusion, but also a good internal motivator. We as the audience then see that his key goal to help Zaun is not rooted in pity for a former home, but rather the cause of an injustice that he was a victim to. We see his steadfastness in going after opportunities that he thinks will benefit Zaun and humanity, and constant relentless means to get there. This is in stark contrast to his personal life. His deeply rooted sentiment that he must be alone because of his disability, along with perceptions of his disability and birthplace, are why he is a closed person only reaching for science, despite being quite empathetic. They also set up his two main conflicts:

1. He is dying with little time to finish his goal of helping Zaun and humanity

and

2. The people around him want to weaponize his creation into something that can be used against his hometown

These conflicts are where the plot fumbled the character. Firstly, we do not see any ties between him and Zaun other than his illness and that he grew up there. Where are his parents that supposedly love him so much? What is his relationship with Sky, which he supposedly cared enough for to bring out of Zaun to work with him and Jayce? His lack of well developed relationships with other characters other than Jayce hurt his character development from occurring naturally. It’s why Sky’s death doesn’t feel like anything. Despite Viktor seeing her in the realm as a metaphor to his shred of humanity left, his garden dedicated to her, her emblem on his robe, we don’t know their relationship or history in his eyes. (It should have been that they were in at least a friendship. Anything less than that would not fit Viktor’s character.) We don’t see him interact that much with Mel, despite her being his close friend’s love interest. We do not see him interact with doctors or his parents. What other real relationship does he have depicted in the show other than, well, Jayce? The only other is perhaps Singed. How do these relationships play into his self perception, and perception of humanity?

Combining his deteriorating friendship with Jayce over politics and with understanding that his work will be used against him without his credit or his voice should set Viktor up for him to make decisions that will naturally lead into his lore as we know it; to create something that allows him to fix himself and others while simultaneously corrupting him, especially in Zaun. Instead in season two we see that path taken away from him within the first Act after he is fused with magic because of Jayce. This is a pity because it makes Viktor reliant on Jayce’s decisions in a way that is outside of their parallel to the power struggle between Zaun and Piltover and thus takes away from his authority as a character - his decision to fuse himself with magic and machinery to go against Piltover needed to be a result of his decisions and actions, not of someone else and magic!

Giving that narrative decision to Jayce also leaves no organic way for Jayce to come to realize who Viktor is as a person outside of just a “partner”. This is especially apparent during the finale, in which Jayce’s love for Viktor is boiled down to “I love you for who you are”… though that undermines Viktor’s illness, why that illness exists and thus his reason to be a character, and by extension… Zaun’s struggle. And yet, Viktor dies accepting Jayce’s words, despite them undermining the reason he exists! Each time Viktor is yet again denied that choice to be what his character represents. Instead he is used as the crutch to Jayce until the end of the second season. This is also why the multidimensional time travel does not work with Viktor being the mage that gives Jayce magic; Viktor’s destiny is then settled firmly in Jayce’s hands and not his own. They are not soulmates; only one’s life depends on the other’s.

Viktor then, despite having some good foundation, never becomes the full representation that his character could be. We see no growth of his insecurities and setbacks that allow him to make the choice to become who is meant to be. Rather we see that narrative handed to another character who does not fulfill his character arc fully either.

It is no surprise to see the JayVik shippers in this case. Because Viktor is so dependent on Jayce in the narrative, there is no other natural relationship for him. This is despite the fact that Viktor’s sax orientation shouldn’t be of speculation, because in the case of the story, it doesn’t matter. Whether or not Viktor is able to have physical attraction to another person is not the core of his story nor his character. (Which is why his ace designation should not be controversial.) However, that his ability to make meaningful connections with the people in his lives, whether as friends or romantically, is. And we do not see that with any other person but Jayce, who cannot not see him as a full person due to the narrative. Viktor, at his essence, is a man whose agency has been taken from him by the narrative.

The better case in the narrative would have been to let the two part their separate ways after the death of Sky and the council attack, and let Viktor be the tragic hero he was made for. The love between each character that was to have a relationship with Viktor would have been that much more apparent, especially with Sky and Jayce. Then perhaps we would not see Viktor become the “disabled tw!nk whose real relationship could have only been with Jayce because only they truly knew and loved each other” because no. Only they didn’t. Viktor always had so much more, which included Jayce, Mel, Sky, and could have been far more! He just wasn’t given the means to explore it. And not by just the characters in Arcane. By the writers too.

[spiderfreedom]

It's interesting how the same misogynistic trope can reappear, independently, in different countries. I'm reading "Scream from the shadows: the women's liberation movement in Japan" and this section about the connotations of the word 'woman' is interesting:

In the Japanese context, the semantic distinctions between the terms fujin, josei, and onna, which are all translated as “women” and/or “woman,” must be given careful attention, as they often signal political differences. Ribu [women's lib] activists deliberately chose and reappropriated onna, a term for woman that can be used in a pejorative manner with sexual or lower-class connotations. As noted by Kano Masanao, the term onna approximated a discriminatory word (sabetsu go). It signified the raw and total being that had to be liberated. According to linguistics scholar Orie Endo, its strong sexual implications made it a term that could “be substituted for many sexually related terms, such as mistress or prostitute,” and this was considered disrespectful, taboo, even “dirty.”

As a kid, I never liked the word 'woman' because it often sounded sexual to me, and I hated the way it was used. "My vices are alcohol, cigarettes, and women" - treating 'women' as equivalent as objects. "Love going to Colombia and seeing all the beautiful women" - treating 'women' as sightseeing objects. "You've known her since she was a girl, now watch her become a woman" - being a 'woman' is to be a passive sex object that is (often against her will) penetrated.

I used to think this was my personal issue with the word, but I've since learned other women also felt the same way about the word. And apparently in Japan, the word we foreigners are taught is the default word for woman (we learn woman = onna and man = otoko) is also subject to being sexualized, objectified, and degraded. What the Japanese 'ribu' activists did was to reclaim the word onna to mean a woman who was a subject, who was free to pursue sexual pleasure for herself and not for men. In other words, the degradation of the word for 'woman' isn't just something that happens in English, but in other languages and cultures. In this case, it does not appear to be a result of Western colonization, either.

If you haven't read much feminist work outside your home country (or about the West), I strongly recommend doing so. The more you learn about feminists in other countries, the more you realize that the form sexism takes is eerily universal.

[certifiedsexed]

Hi sex sorcerer! I was thinking about this idly today— it/its pronouns are obviously not derogatory in any way when used as someone's preferred pronouns. However, when degrading someone during sex, is referring to them as "it" to (consensually!) objectify/dehumanise them then bigoted towards it/its users? Since that implies it/its pronouns are inherently derogatory...

Well, if that isn't a fun way to be greeted, I don't know what is, Anon. I love it. Hello!

First off, let me just say, misgendering anyone can be objectifying and/or dehumanizing. That's not exclusive to "it" pronouns. You could misgender someone in plenty of ways [consensually] and have it be objectifying/dehumanizing without using "it" pronouns specifically.

But I don't think what you're talking about is implying It/Its pronouns are inherently derogatory. You're talking about Gender Play, which sometimes includes misgendering and using this edge that comes from the idea of someone who is specifically using It/Its pronouns to dehumanize someone [which is a real thing].

Purposefully playing with that idea is okay, as long as you're aware it/its pronouns are not solely a derogatory thing and you don't, for example, only partner with it/its people to use their pronouns in a negative light or something.

As someone with it/its pronouns, I think it just sounds cool. I've actually pondered this myself before when discussing something similar with a Dominatrix but I think considering that he/him and she/her pronouns are used in the same sort of way during Gender Play sometimes really helps put into context that yes, there can be extra societal weight to using "It/Its" pronouns in that sense but that doesn't mean you can't play with them.

It works similarly to using she/her pronouns in a derogatory/misgendering sense: staying aware of that extra societal weight is a good idea for obvious reasons but keep it consensual, listen to your partner(s) and you're cool.

Hope this helps, Anon! Let me know if you have any other questions. <3 This one was very fun!

[sgojoenthusiast]

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ KINKTOBER 2023 ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

➸ DAY SIX: BEAST

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*

summary: After getting into an arguement with your parents about marriage, you storm off. Somehow, you find yourself in the home of the King of Curses without any recollection of how you got there. To your surprise, he seems more than willing to let you live.

CW: fem reader, imlications of kidnapping, consensual sex, dom/sub dynamics, monster fucking, true form sukuna, rough sex, oral (m recieving), virginity loss, degrading kink, corruption kink, face slapping & pussy slapping, sukuna eating you out with his stomach mouth thing, very little prep, very filthy, degrading and objectifying please proceed with caution!!

word count: 4.4k

likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

masterlist.

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*

Truly, you had no idea how you managed to find yourself within the King of Curses home - if you could even call it that.

You were a non-sorcerer, though living in a small village that resided so close to where countless massacres and killings had taken place at the hands of none other than Sukuna, word of heartless beasts and ravenous monsters travelled fast.

Especially when your village would fearfully leave him sacrifices as a result of a pact made between the village and the curse. It wasn’t something your village was necessarily proud of, yet you lived peacefully without the threat of raids at the cost of whatever, or whoever, the King of Curses wished for.

That wasn’t why you were here though. The monthly sacrifice had passed, and you continued to find yourself safe within your home. However, after a fight with your father over the infuriating matter of marriage, you had stormed out late at night.

You knew not to wander past the carefully crafted sign warning villagers of the upcoming dangers they would face should they continue following the path, and you could have sworn you hadn’t stepped a singular foot past that sign, or the stones that marked a makeshift wall of a few lonesome stones.

As a matter of fact, you had walked in the opposite direction. Sure, at some point you had gotten lost. But how on Earth did you find yourself within the gruesome walls of Sukuna’s home?

You were on your knees in front of him with eyes wide and fearful as your hands trembled and you stuttered out apologies and pleas for forgiveness for stumbling past the border that separates your worlds.

Sukuna, on the other hand, seemed uncharacteristically collected. You couldn’t see him from where you were knelt down, however, you could’ve sworn you saw a smirk playing on his lips. You quickly dismissed the thought.

He sat on his throne, lazily staring down at you as though you were nothing but another pile of bones to decorate his home. No matter how unbothered his stare, you felt like he was burning holes into your skin.

"I would've never have done it on purpose, I just got lost and I had no idea where I had gone so I was just walking and I-"

"Be quiet." He demanded, cutting you off. The minute the first syllable fell from his lips, your mouth was taped shut out of fear.

Your hands were shaking in your lap, fidgeting with the hem of your dress and playing with your fingers. Refusing to meet his dangerous glare, your eyes stayed glued to your hands.

You could feel the moment he stood from where he was previously sat as your heart immediately stopped before continuing to thrum at an increased speed and intensity.

Stalking up to where you kneeled, you noticed from his shadow that he towered over you. Gulping, you pleaded silently that he would show mercy through a quick and painless death - though the king of curses was not known to be so kind.

When he reached you, one of his arms took your chin in its hold and forced your eyes to meet his.

He studied you - the way your eyes watered, your lips trembled and how your hands were fidgeting in your lap. However, despite your petrified demeanour, he was fascinated with you.

The entire time you had been rambling on and throwing out sincere apologies, his mind was elsewhere and his eyes couldn't leave your terrified figure. He couldn't stop thinking about how attractive you were, and the things that he'd do to you once you had ceased your mindless babbling.

His finger traced the outline of your jaw and caressed your cheek - though you couldn't feel the fondness in his actions as your mind explored the possibilities of how he'd use that hand next. To choke you, perhaps? Or maybe he'd get it done quickly and tear your head from your body with the strength of just one hand.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked, meekly. Slowly, you were coming to terms with your inevitable death and truthfully, you had no idea why you asked a question you knew the answer to, however his answer stunned you slightly and left you clueless and without a word able to leave your lips.

“I’m not sure,” he started, as his hand started to trail down your skin and to your throat. “I could kill you.” His grip on your throat tightened slightly, causing you to let out a gasp.

However, that same hand trailed back up to your face and toyed with your hair gently. “But, truthfully, I’d rather keep a precious thing for my own selfish desires. That is, until I get bored of you.”

A tear rolled down your cheek at his vague answer and left you with countless questions. Another one of his arms was raised causing you to flinch yet he only went to wipe the tears from your eyes as she smirked down at the sight of you.

“Poor thing, no need to cry.” Sukuna cooed mockingly as you bit your lip in an attempt to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks.

Without warning, he forced you to stand up. You suddenly realised how major the difference in height was as you craned your neck to look up at him. His huge figure overshadowed your own in every way. He was massive - tall and fully built and the fact that he had four arms did nothing to make you feel less small as he loomed threateningly over you.

Beckoning you to follow, he began to walk through the hallways of his home. There was a heavy silence that left you alone with only your thoughts racing through your mind. As you walked, you thought about how you had even ended up in this place to begin with. You had no recollection of ever walking past the dozens of signs that decorated the path for miles, warning villagers not to cross a certain point. And, you certainly didn’t remember ever walking into his home. 

The only memory still prominent in your mind was waking up to the sight of him sitting on his throne and staring down at you. You wondered how long you had been out for, and how long he had been looking at you in your unconscious state. 

Staring at his back, you trembled in anticipation. Even if you hadn’t heard the rumours of torn limbs and deaths so bloody only their bones remained, you would have known to be terrified. Evidently, he was strong and could kill you before you even knew it was going to happen - that said, you had come to terms with your inevitable death. It was inescapable, and you understood that.

The sound of a door being thrown open snapped you out of your whirling mind as your head cracked up. Chills were sent down your spine when you realised you were in his bedroom - it hadn’t even occurred to you that he needed one.

A malicious smile was sketched onto his face as one of his arms motioned for you to sit down on his bed.

You obeyed, yet you couldn’t help the disgusting images that coursed through your mind as though it was betraying you. Flashes of his larger hands touching you roughly in places nobody had touched, his lips whispering foul things into your ears and his dick thrusting in and out of you. You couldn’t stop the flurry of thoughts from spinning your mind and clouding your senses - even Sukuna could tell you were thinking about something that was making you lose your concentration.

It upset him.

Your attention should be on him, you should have been cowering in fear like you were before. So why did you look so calm and distracted all of a sudden?

You too were annoyed with yourself. Why were you fantasising about a man a curse who had every intention of killing you, no matter what riddle he fed you and whether he conveyed otherwise. 

He stalked up to where you were sitting on the bed and took your face into his rough hand, forcing it up so that he could properly examine the features carved onto your face.

“What about it then, human?”

You looked up at him with inquisitive eyes as you were snapped out of your forbidden thoughts.

Annoyedly, as though he expected you to remember every detail of each sentence that slipped from his mouth when he was looking so incredibly attractive, he rolled his eyes as he retold the words he’d said previously.

“How long do you think it’ll take before I’m bored of you, hm?” He asked, his voice not much lower than whisper though you could hear every word that left his lips.

You couldn’t answer him, you didn’t know how, and your lack of a response only annoyed him further.

With one his hands, he pushed you with little force against the bed, causing you to lay down. Your hands were now fidgeting on your stomach so he separated them, shoving them to your side before he leaned down. Two of his hands kept him up, whilst one of the other two roamed the side of your body and traced the figure of your hips and the second continued its hold on your cheek.

“I don’t appreciate your silence. If you can convince me that I won't get bored, and that I’m not wasting my time with you, I won’t kill you. Even after I’m finished with you.” His voice was low and stirred something within you. Truthfully, his time was difficult to waste, with him having so much of it. Though he wouldn’t tell you that until after you had convinced him to spare your life.

It didn’t take long until he realised he no longer needed convincing. He could smell your arousal and the lust that dripped off you. His eyes went wide when he felt your legs shuffle below him and heard your attempt at muffling a whine underneath him as you bit your lip - your eyes shying away from his own due to embarrassment. 

“Oh?” His voice was laced with a plotting and wicked tone. “Tell me, human, are you a virgin?”

The hand that roamed your hips made its way to your clothed pussy. Pushing the fabric separating your pussy and his hand to the side, he dipped a finger into the wetness of your folds and dragged it through your pussy briefly before pulling away and grinning as he watched your face contort into pure mortification and humiliation.

“Answer me, before I am convinced otherwise.”

You nodded hesitantly before watching his face morph into a hidden satisfaction that you could only detect from paying as much attention as you were. This made you nod with more confidence in your answer, pleased that it was the right one. 

“My sweet, innocent thing. I am going to corrupt and defile you. I am going to fuck the innocence right out from you and mold you into my perfect little slut. Though, from the looks of things,” Bringing his finger up to both his and your eyesights, he grinned. “You’re already a desperate slut waiting to be fucked.”

You couldn’t do much but nod in agreement with his words as you pressed your thighs together.

Swiftly, he ripped the clothes right of your skin, ruining your dress far past mendability. You shuddered, suddenly conscious of the cold weather as goosebumps formed on your skin. Yet, the close proximity between you and the curse would be more than enough to warm you up in no time.

He tore the clothes of your skin animalistically. Eager to see what was underneath, and he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. Though, he wouldn’t show it on his face. 

After taking off his own robes, he pulled your head up and planted a fleeting kiss on your lips. You smiled bashfully, to which he smirked before gripping your hair and pulling you more towards the end of the bed.

Shamelessly, you gawked up at the sight of his bare chest. It was an impressive sight. He was undeniably ripped and your mind was swarmed with thoughts of the lewd things his muscles could do and all the positions he could manhandle you into without breaking a sweat. 

However, what mainly caught your eye was the drooling mouth that sat on his lower stomach. Eyes widening, your pussy throbbed at just the idea of what he could do with it, however, before you could dive much deeper into such disgusting thoughts, Sukuna was right there to pull you out.

He stood up straight and used one of his hands to tap your bottom lip, motioning you to open up. Though confused, you obeyed him nevertheless, however, it instantly became more clear when he shoved the tip of his cock between your lips.

You hadn’t thought to look when he first took off his robes - instead opting for gawking his bare chest and arms that turned you on more than they should have done. But now, whilst the tip of his cock was spreading open your lips, your eyes widened at the sheer size and girth of it.

He didn’t give you enough time to ponder on how you were supposed to take him all in your mouth before he was slowly inching his cock further inside. His face showed little emotion, other than the slight part of his lips when you attempted to move your tongue around.

Your hands went to cover whatever part of his length your mouth couldn’t reach, however, using one of his free hands, he pulled your hands away and held them in a harsh grip before forcing more of his dick down your throat.

Tears were pooling in your eyes and running down your cheeks and yet you hadn’t even taken half of his length. You were gagging and choking, struggling to breath as you tried to breath through your nose but the feeling of his fat cock shoving itself further down your throat made you struggle slightly.

Everything was so overwhelming. Sukuna was touching you everywhere and all you could do was take his cock down your throat obediently whilst you gagged and choked with tears streaming down your face.

You watched as his eyes fluttered closed and just the knowledge that you were making him feel good had you pressing your thighs together for even a hint of friction.

However, he was done before you knew it, taking his dick out of your mouth before he was even close to finishing as he pushed you back further on the bed, letting go of your wrists.

Looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks, you leaned back on the bed and brought one hand up to wipe your mouth. “Why- why didn’t you- was it not good?” you asked, evidently nervous by the way you had shrunk into yourself.

Immediately, Sukuna was able to tell that no matter what words came from his mouth about how disposable you were, he’d never be able to happily get rid of you. You were far too perfect for him to discard.

Once again, he took your face back into his rough hands and held it firmly, demonstrating the clear infatuation he had with your features and your perfectly sculpted face in his own cruel way. “Does my little slut miss having my dick in her mouth, hm?” He took another one of his hands, and after dropping the one holding your face, he slapped you harshly. Your jaw dropped open before immediately closing as a way to stop your lip from trembling. “Well, slut, you’ll take what I give to you. And what’s going to happen, is I'm going to cum inside of this pussy and you’re going to take every drop of it. Do you understand?”

With a few tears sliding down your cheek, you nodded compliantly. Despite your trembling lip and wet cheeks, you couldn’t deny the aching between your thighs and the desperation that only seemed to increase with each cruel action. It didn’t go unnoticed by Sukuna either.

He pressed another kiss to your lips before his mouth began to trail down your body. Two of his hands held you tightly, keeping himself up whilst also reminding you of the grip that he had on you and how you were his permanently. One of his other hands trailed up your thigh teasingly, before running a single finger through your folds like he had done previously, but much slower.

His mouth was on one of your breasts, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking. He twirled his tongue around the bud as his other free hand went to toy with the other breast - unwilling to simply leave it neglected.

You had never been touched so intimately before and it had you desperate for more. Your hands went to thread themselves through his hair as you gasped at every skillful touch and kiss he left on your body.

In order to prepare you to take his dick, Sukuna slipped one of his long fingers into your hole and you gasped - never having felt anything like it before.

He moved it slowly in and out of your hole as he looked up to gauge your reaction - memorising every cute sigh he pulled from you and every twitch of your body - along with whatever he had done to elicit such a reaction.

It was the most kindest he had shown you all night, yet you loved every moment of his cruelty as you finally experienced what it was like to not be treated like glass or a piece of white fabric that was held up far from the muddied floor, careful not to be stained or tainted with the dirt of the real world.

This only made you yearn for more. The fact that he was giving you this sort of pleasure that you were so disappointed you had never felt before made you long for more of his touch before it was taken from you.

“Please,” You whispered meekly. He pulled his mouth away from your chest and sat up slightly to better meet your pleading gaze. His eyes portrayed no emotion but simply waited for you to continue. “Please I need your cock, I can’t take it anymore. I need it so bad, please don't make me wait any longer, Sukuna.”

Tilting his head, he grinned down at you and let out a chuckle whilst continuing to thrust his fingers inside of you at a leisurely pace. “Such a needy little whore. You can’t wait a few minutes for me to prep this tight, virgin pussy so that she can take me? It’ll hurt if you want me to fuck you now.”

Though his words gave the impression that he was unwilling to give you his dick straight away, the glint in his eyes said otherwise, telling you that he wanted nothing more than to fuck your tight pussy open with his dick rather than his fingers.

“I don’t care, I want it now.” You demanded impatiently.

Displeased with your tone, Sukuna gave a harsh slap to your aching cunt, causing you to whine out of pain stirred with pleasure. Taking his punishment as a warning, despite the way it made your cunt throb and yearn for more, you mumbled out a quick apology. “‘M sorry, I just want it so bad, Sukuna. Please will you give me your cock?”

He let out a satisfied humming noise with your change in tone and behaviour. “So you’re a slut for pain as well? You tell me you’re a virgin, yet all I see is a dirty whore begging for me to fuck her pussy.” He spat on your pussy before continuing. “I don’t think I can believe a word you say. You’re acting and talking like a whore, so I suppose I can treat you like one.” 

Taking a hold of your thighs, he pulled you down, closer to him before grabbing his hard dick and lining it up with your hole. You voiced out your gratitude endlessly, thanking him over and over until you were silenced by the feeling of his overly-large cock penetrating your tight pussy.

From then on, all you could feel was the pain of the stretch as you cried out. In return, he scoffed at you. “Didn’t I tell you it would hurt? Don’t act surprised, slut.”

The way that he was scolding you made you eager to please him once more. You brought your head up and connected your lips with his, whining into his mouth at the pain yet wanting to feel his cold comfort nevertheless.

Sukuna didn’t bother to go easy on you due to your endless pleas that had put you in the position of being split open by his cock. However, he wasn’t entirely selfish when it came to pleasure, and so he opened the mouth that had been sitting drooling on his stomach the entire time, craving to please you, and promptly attached it to your dripping pussy.

His tongue swirled around your clit as you gasped at your first taste of real pleasure whilst your pussy was squeezing down on his large cock. 

He was relentless as his brutal thrusts only sped up the more impatient he became, and soon, the insufferable pain that came with his inhumane dick pushing through your hole forcefully, melted into a euphoric haze that had you crying out and begging for more.

He held you in place as he pounded into you vigorously, keeping you perfectly still for him to use and thrust into like you were nothing but his toy whilst simultaneously having his messy tongue lap at your wet cunt, soaking his stomach in your juices. 

You could feel every vein of his dick dragging along your walls and hitting your sweet spot so effortlessly as though he knew your body like the back of his hand. Your eyes felt like they were rolling into the back of your brain with every movement he made.

“Fuck- you really are just a slut. This is all you good for, hm? Taking my cock like a desperate whore. You’re fuckin’ worthless. Just a cocksleeve for me to breed and throw about like a toy.” His head was thrown back as he spoke and your eyes were squeezed shut. You could barely even register the sound of his voice from how good he was making you feel, let alone the degrading tone of his words. “But you like that don’t you?”

After a few moments, he looked down to see that your mouth was hung open and your eyes were tightly closed. He rolled his eyes, annoyed you hadn’t been listening. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet noises of your pussy and his tongue endlessly toying with it was immediately cut through by the sharp sound resonating through the room of his hand meeting your cheek - much harder than the last time

Your eyes reluctantly peeled open to see him seething above you. Shivers ran through your entire body as you quivered underneath him at the sight of his raging features.

“You fucking listen to me when I talk to you.” He continued to pound into you at a vicious pace with hard, forceful thrusts. “Or have I already fucked you stupid? I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re nothing but a common whore. Remember who’s letting you live and who’s fucking you so kindly and amazingly before you start to ignore me.”

His threats had your pussy hugging him firmly before you gushed around his massive cock and into the sloppy mouth on his stomach. Yet he refused to stop there.

He grabbed your leg and threw it over his shoulder effortlessly as he managed to somehow push himself even further inside of your desperate cunt. 

You were incredibly overwhelmed by the change of position and the feeling of him even deeper inside of you after you had just came on his dick.

This factor didn’t seem to cross his mind even once considering he continued to thrust at the same merciless speed as before whilst his mouth pushed even harder onto your throbbing, overstimulating clit.

Sukuna’s eyes were scrunched in concentration and his head was thrown back in ecstasy. The feeling of your tight, virgin pussy coming around him and yet continuing to gush and beg for more had him spiralling as he felt you squeeze him unbearably tight.

“Want you to come again. You can do that, can’t you?” He asked breathlessly, his pace not faltering once. 

You moaned and nodded in agreement with him over the sounds of your squelching pussy and his hips meeting yours.

“Knew you could, sweet thing. Such a slut, wanting to come for the second time.” He chastised, though he was significantly more eager to get you to finish than he was before, after having felt you come on his dick once before.

“Shit, not gonna last much longer, not with you milking my dick like such a whore, sweet thing.”

Silently, you agreed, yet he heard every word of it. 

The combination of his dick thrusting inside of you so perfectly and his tongue quickly dragging itself through your folds whilst his hands travelled across your body was enough to send you over the edge for the second time.

You were practically screaming in pleasure whilst you came for the second time, your arms reaching to grab onto him for support as he pounded into you through your release.

Only moments after,due to the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, Sukuna was spurting hot, sticky shots of cum into your pussy as he rode out his high and his tongue slowed down. 

After coming down from his high, he slowly retracted his cock from your cunt, watching his cum dripping from your gaping hole before taking his fingers and shoving them inside of you, pulling you onto his lap in an attempt to keep as much of his cum inside of you as he could.

Sukuna leaned down, he was breathless and hot as he whispered lowly: “You’re not going anywhere, I might have to keep you forever, you know? Don’t think I’ll ever get over this pussy.”

As he kissed your cheek and down your jaw and neck, you smiled softly, still trying to catch your breath, yet happy that he was welcoming you into his life and home because truthfully, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to live without his dick.

note: this was really rushed and i'm very sorry for whats probably a very low quality last half however i'm exhausted and still have a load of other work to do so please be patient and i promise i'll edit it in the future!!

[yujinslovr]

DAY 9 : gp!yujin x fem!reader

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

CW: anal, oral, degradation, humiliation, edging, lmk if theres anything else!

word count: 2,738

a/n: proofread at 3am, i'm half asleep so pls forgive any mistakes😞😞😞

you knew what she had brought you here for, it was for the same reason all the other old businessmen at this event had brought their young beautiful wifes. it wasn't a new occurrence to you, yujin would often bring you to these kinds of events. you only had one job, and that was to sit still and look pretty. she would bring you along with her because she knew that you looked better than any of her business partners girls. the hard gazes you received from the older men you were surrounded by was proof of that if anything. it was the biggest ego boost for yujin, to know that all of these taken men were in envy of her for having someone like you.

many would hate it, being objectified in this way, and maybe if you were someone else you would’ve. she only kept you with her, her arm tight around your waist to show you off to the other people there, to boast that not only was she young, rich, and pretty, but she also had an insanely beautiful wife. and honestly, you didn't mind it one bit.

you had met yujin in college where she was studying business and you art. you had dreams of being an actress but your parents wouldn't leave you alone unless you graduated from college. you had always liked art, ever since you were young so you figured why not go into that. you and yujin’s love story had been one like the movies. yujin was always going to take over her millionaire fathers business and had been training for it since she was young while you were more of a free spirit. yujin more than excelled in what she did and was the definition of a prodigy, her getting her fathers business was never even a question. you bumped into her in a coffee shop and the rest was history. you quit your dream of becoming an actress since yujin said ‘she wanted your beauty all to herself’ and now here you were, living your best life with the best wife ever. you knew yujin enough to know that she saw you as more than just arm candy for her, so you didnt mind acting like that's all you were every once in a while for her.

yujin had always worn suits to these kinds of events, and you always a dress to match her suit. you didnt know what it was, but in this suit yujin just looked too fucking good. her biceps were protruding out of the navy blue dress shirt she had on, her suit jacket set off to the side. not only was her insanely hot physique being shown, but her bulge seemed to have multiplied in size. your eyes just couldn't seem to leave the very noticeable bulge in her pants. 

you two were sat at a table, her conversing with the man in front of both of you, their wifes at their sides just like you with yujin. you were making small talk with the ladies in front of you, your hand under the table seeming to have a mind of its own first rested itself on yujin’s thigh. she didn't think anything of it at first, knowing that you were someone who always liked to have physical contact. but then your hand started slowly going upwards, not stopping with your conversation for even a second. when your hand came to rest on her crotch, she shot you a look, dropping her hand under the table and removing your hand from her. she continued with her conversation after this, thinking that was that and now you’d stop. 

oh how wrong she was. 

as soon as she put her hand back up on the table to grab her beer to drink you quickly put your hand back and gave her bulge a small squeeze. yujin promptly choked on the beer she was drinking, glaring at you. after coming up with an excuse for her choking she leaned into your ear and whispered out a warning telling you to stop. and you did just that for a while, even leaving her side to go converse with some other people. after a while, you got bored and decided to mess with her a little more. you looked around for her, and it wasn't long before you caught sight of yujin manspreading on a couch, a table full of empty bottles of beer in front of her and the men sitting opposite to her. you went up to where she was sitting and sat down on her lap, leaning your head into the crook of her neck. yujin’s hands instinctively went around your waist as she asked you if anything was wrong. 

“i’m so bored, when can we leave?” you whined out into her neck, leaving a few kisses to convince her. 

“why don't you get me and these gentlemen here some drinks, i’m having a conversation right now but we can leave in a couple hours.” she gave you a little pat on your ass before ushering you off her lap. 

all the men sitting at the couch opposite to yujin agreed on beer so you went to fetch it for them. maybe if you were someone else, you would’ve found her tone and words infuriating, but then again you weren't someone else. yujin had always been like this, ever since the first week in which you two started getting to know each other. if you were being honest, you were so different before you met yujin, you had so many more dreams that you were determined to achieve but you ended up compromising on all of them for yujin. you would do anything and everything for her, and being her obedient little housewife in front of her coworkers was something you’d do anyday. 

when you came back to them you set down all the drinks on the coffee table in between the two sofas. you once again found yourself on yujin’s lap. “baby, i need you..” you whined out into her ear, subtly pressing yourself harder into her crotch. 

“behave.” it was one word, but one that held multiple threats along with it. her hands harshly gripped your hips as she stopped them from moving while glaring at you. her eyes daring you to challenge her and misbehave more. when she thought it was enough, she turned back to the men in front of her and put a tight smile on her face. “so, where were we?”

you were growing increasingly bored as yujin’s conversation went on, they were talking about business and boring stuff that you didn't understand. you thought back to her warning and you knew there’d be consequences if you actually made her leave this function early yet you couldn't seem to find it in you to care. all you knew was that you wanted to leave and you wanted to jump yujin’s bones, and with that you had made your decision. you would have started to grind on her but that’d be too obvious, the people she was talking to would definitely find out. so instead you reached your hand in between the two of you and started to palm her crotch. 

yujin choked mid sentence when she felt what you were doing, she couldn't exactly reach down and remove your hand. that’d make what you were doing very obvious and she still had appearances to keep up. yujin’s grip on your hips tightend as she glared at you, the silent threat looming over you, her nails were digging into your hips yet you still couldn't find it in you to care. you continued what you were doing, staring her dead in the eyes, a smirk on your lips. yujin abruptly stood up, forcing you to stand along with her. she moved you from her front, very aware and pissed about the very clear tent in her pants. if she could, she’d have kept you in front of her but she needed to bid these men goodbye, they were some very important people and she was beyond mad at what you were doing. 

“i apologize, but i really must leave now. it was a pleasure meeting you gentlemen.” yujin said, shaking all of their hands individually.

one of the men whispered a ‘have fun’ with a wink, clearly catching on to what had happened due to her very obvious boner. “you bet i will.” yujin replied with a large cheeky grin spread across her face. 

yujin’s entire demeanor changed the moment you two stepped out of the event hall, her smile dropping and you knew you were in for it. you both sat in the truck limo which was waiting outside for the both of you. the screen between the driver and passengers was immediately closed and you were forced to your knees. yujin was sat at the long sofa that spread across the entirety of the limo while you were on your knees in between her legs. yujin shoved your head into her clothed crotch, “c’mon baby, suck it won't you? kept on touching me through my pants, thought you’d wanna suck me through them too.” yujin said in mock innocence, tilting her head to the side when you tried to pull away. 

“I said fucking suck bitch.” she pulled your hair, hard. you let out a whimper at the pain in your scalp from the roughness. “don't make me repeat myself again.” 

you hesitantly opened your mouth, not wanting to anger her further by not listening. you wrapped your mouth around the bulge in her crotch and sucked on it, yujin rutting into your face. the entire act was so incredibly humiliating and you genuinely couldn't believe what you were doing. thankfully though, yujin soon decided that was enough and she needed to feel your mouth around her. she yanked your head away, using your hair as leverage, you let out a yelp at the stinging in your scalp. you now had a full view of the wet spot your spit had made on her boner, the sight made you flush red in embarrassment. yujin removed her hand from your hair and went to undo her belt, then unzipped her pants and pulled them and her boxers down enough for her cock to spring out. 

you took a hold of her cock, wrapping your hand around the thick meat. you brought your mouth up to it and softly sucked at the head, your hand stroking what wasn't in your mouth. your slow pace was starting to piss yujin off again so she decided to take things into her own hands. her hand found purchase in your hair as she pushed you all the way down, your nose touching her pelvis. your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, tears springing in your eyes as you choked and tried to pull yourself off. yujin’s hand kept a firm grip on your hair and stopped any type of movement you tried. 

yujin pulled you up for a second, allowing you to breathe in before once again forcing your head down. “fuck baby, takin me so well.” yujin let out in a sigh, your gags and chokes turning her on even more. the way you looked up at her through your tears, your mascara smudged and drool leaking out of your mouth. she thought you looked prettiest like this, a mess all for her. with one last grunt yujin forced you all the way down and emptied herself into your mouth, she pulled out halfway through and started stroking herself, painting your face with her cum. “mm, what do you say baby?” yujin hummed out, taking your chin in her hand and tilting your face up to her. 

“t-thank you..” you stuttered out, your mouth incredibly sore from her roughness. 

yujin hummed in response, a smirk spread across her face as she trailed her hands up to your hair, pulling you up. yujin then manhandled you onto all fours on the sofa while she knelt behind you, squeezing and slapping the skin of your ass. she spread open your cheeks, spitting on your puckered hole and then rubbing it around. she slowly eased a finger into your hole and watched as you tensed up at the foreign feeling. she thrusted the finger in and out and when she felt you were ready, she pushed herself in. you let out a scream at the big intrusion in your small hole, you and yujin didn't do anal often, you couldn't even remember the last time you two did it. 

“i don't think you deserve me in your slut cunt, after what you pulled, you don't deserve to even cum.” yujin grunted out as she bottomed out into your ass. 

you let out a whine at both the feeling and her words, you were wrong but you deserved to cum as least. you clenched around nothing, your neglected cunt yearning for some kind of stimulation. yujin never once faltered in her thrusts into your ass, letting out small grunts of pleasure every time you clenched. the burning feeling of her going in with basically no lube, only a bit of her spit was put on both you and herself, and the small amount of lubricant was starting to make it burn. “i-it hurts–!” you let out in a scream, hissing at the feeling, it was a manageable amount of pain but you didn't want to endure this small amount of pain. 

“do i look like i fucking give a shit?” yujin growled out, bringing her palm down on your ass as she pounded into you harder. 

your arms gave out and you leaned your head into the sofa, yujin gripped your hips keeping your lower half up. you looked to the side, looking at yujin behind you and was greeted by the sexy image of her with sweat dripping down her face, her shirt seemingly molded into her body allowing you to clearly see her abs and biceps. seeing her eyes closed, you took this chance to reach down and play with your clit, gathering your slick and circling the hard nub. you were in heaven, finally getting the stimulation you so craved. you couldn't stop your moans and whimpers if you tried, the feeling overwhelming you after wanting it so badly. it had barely been a few minutes, but the combined feeling of yujin in your ass and your clit finally receiving attention had you teetering over the edge. you clenched impossibly tight, you were so close, on the brink of cumming.. until it was all taken from you. yujin's hand grabbed yours and she pulled both of your hands behind your back as you started struggling against her, upset at the fact that she ruined your orgasm. 

“what? you really thought i’d let you cum? a fucking whore like you doesnt deserve to.” yujin laughed out condescendingly as she continued fucking into you. tears were falling down your face in frustration and at the loss of your orgasm, you were so insanely mad yet you couldn't do anything about it and that frustrated you to no end.

“yujin please oh my god i swear i'll be good next time, please i just need to cum.” you cried out, desperation clear in your voice. 

“we’ll see next time then, if you're good next time then you can cum next time.” you could only let out broken cries of please, begging her to have mercy on you.

yuijn’s thrusts into you became erratic, a clear sign that she was close. when yujin felt like she was on the brink, she pulled out of your ass and bottomed out into your pussy, stilling when she did and then spilling her load deep inside your cunt with a loud groan. you let out a moan at the feeling of her warm semen flooding your insides, clenching tight around her to maximize her pleasure. yujin pulled out of you and fell backwards onto the sofa pulling you on top of her. 

“i didn't cum.” you pouted into her neck, your tears soaking her shirt as you whined. 

yujin wrapped an arm around you, stroking your hair, “when we get home.” 

and as if on cue, the driver knocked on the partition screen and opened it crack, enough for his voice to reach you two. “we’ve arrived ma’am.”

[radfemsiren]

I can’t reblog with my addition because OP (devilith/ @devilith) is a coward that wants to @ me, then immediately block… pathetic behavior when they want to openly mock and bully rape and incest victims, but are too scared of a bigger blog calling them out.

Regarding this post where a woman is sharing her story of sexual abuse from her brother, and how she believes porn played a role in him abusing her, this was OPs direct response:

Porn and rape culture play a role in real life abuse. Abusers don’t magically wake up one day and are just who they are. Society socializes them to have entitlement to violating people’s bodies, and consuming media that degrades and objectifies women and children is a large factor. Pretending like this problem doesn’t exists and speaking to victims like this just so you can jerk it to loli or incest shit makes you a disgusting, vile degenerate. Also, stop using nazis to excuse your misogyny. ITS NOT PURITAN to say that porn with incest and cp, even if it’s fictional, is bad! :

Then devilith wants to pull the “well a lot of us are victims too!” card when backed up against a wall.

So let me get this straight, we should listen to victims when they are totally down for your filthy porn you want to indulge in, but not when they speak out against it? Hmm.🤔

No, stick to what you believe and stand on business! Instead of being a sniveling coward and bullying and backtracking. Taboo porn is bad, and I will always believe that. If a victim agrees with me, good. If a victim doesn’t, then I’m not going to pretend retriggering themselves constantly is healthy or ok. Anyway, fuck you ❤️

[wolvndmouth]

went into the hugh jackman tag this morning; horrible mistake. venting ahead: read or don’t read, idgaf. i just need to get some stuff off my chest

i usually avoid that tag and let tumblr do its thing in the ‘for you’ and ‘your tags’ tabs cause they do a great job showing me pictures while filtering out all the weird parasocial commentary on hugh’s personal life

some of the things people have said on that tag about complete strangers they don’t know were really rank. like i mean really mean. godforbid a 56 year old man look his age or look tired from a busy schedule

i know a lot of the fandom surrounding these attractive, older actors is rooted in objectifying them and simplifying their existence down to being a hot piece of ass to catcall. that is a core part of being in the “i wanna fuck that old guy” side of tumblr. we’re honest about it at the very least. ive said some horrible, degrading, sexualized things about that man on the internet, things i would 10000% never say to his face or would want him to read because he’s a human being. i am lucky to be a non-existent, less than infinitesimal part of his life as some weird fan from san diego, because that’s an even bigger divide between us, and an even bigger chance that he’ll never find my blog and see all the horrible things i post about him

but all joking aside, and with the utmost respect to hugh as a human, an artist, a performer, and an actor, it really sucks to read some of the awful things people are saying about him because they think they have this deep “understanding” of who he is as a person because they’re a super fan and have seen every single one of his movies and interviews. and it’s even worse to see these same people talk about his personal relationships as if they know something he doesn’t and he just needs the sense knocked into him

im not here to judge and everyone experiences hyper fixation differently. but its really uncomfortable to read some of the mean, judgmental things people have casually said about hugh and his private life because they feel a weird ownership over him since they’re a fan. you’ve never met these people, they don’t have any idea who you are, and they probably don’t care how invested you are in their marriage/divorce/relationships outside of a professional and pr level because why the hell would they?

fandoms exist on ideas. that’s what we’re really in love with; the idea of a character, the idea of a story, the idea of who an actor is because of what we’re allowed to see when it comes to forming an understanding of who we think they are as people. and we are tricked by both media, and maybe our own loneliness and projections, into thinking that we’ve really come to know them on a deep, personal level

anyways, ive commented on parasocial relationships on my blog before, but the things i saw in that tag today really bothered me and i had to get it out somehow. people are strange creatures and i cannot even begin to understand why we do the things we do. but sometimes it’s worth taking a step back to try and figure out some things about ourselves before we start thinking we know even a little bit about other people

okay i’ll shut up now thanks for coming to my ted talk byeilybye

[rmelster]

Though I never came to admire her, recent news of Sydney Sweeney’s “bath water soap” have been particularly disheartening to hear. I had come to believe her to be yet another unfortunate example of Hollywood’s deliberate sexualisation machine; the newest manufactured throwaway blonde bombshell, like Jean Harlow before her, like Marilyn Monroe, like Jayne Mansfield. A symbol, an object to be bought and consumed, more than her own person.

I felt empathy for that conception I had of her, of the woman who I thought, could possibly escape the grasp of Hollywood’s degradation and objectification and build a career on her own right. Then again, one’s expectations of celebrities is always fickle, and oftentimes, very far from reality, and I don’t know if it would be fair to blame her for ‘making’ this erroneous impression on me or in anyone.

Turns out that Sydney Sweeney is now selling her own brand of soap. The controversial advertisement of Sydney’s Bathwater Bliss (which some argue was ‘fanmade’ rather than official, though this remains unconfirmed to the moment this post is published) features, as many may already know, a Sydney Sweeney taking a bath and addressing a very obvious male audience in a sensuous voice. “Hello, You Dirty Little Boys. Are You Interested In My Body... [followed by a lengthy pause] Wash?” The soap’s label is engraved with the words “MEN’S natural soap”, and once unboxed, the bar of soap has a hole. At this point just puts two and two together.

It must be said that this is not an isolated case, as happened with Gwyneth Paltrow and Sydney’s constar in Euphoria Jacob Elordi, both of whom have launched their own ‘candles’, hers with a fragrance that is advertised as resembling her genitalia’s natural odour, and his scented as his bath water in Saltburn. Belle Delphine too was infamous for having, allegedly, sold her bath water.

These are, of course, upsetting news for anyone who is possession of enough critical thinking. The current situation makes this advertisement so vile, taking into account the alarming rise of OF and PornHub with its questionable trends (an example: Annie Knight, who resulted grievously harmed after having sexual intercourse with no less than 583 men in the course of six hours, and was subsequently rushed to the hospital bleeding and visibly distressed) as well as all the Red Pill and conservative movement, that appears to have reduced women into two Biblical-ish groups (to them, the Virgin Mary’s, the abnegated, virginal tradwives they abuse, trap and abandon to their hearts content and with very little consequences, and on the other side, the Bathshebas, the Jezebels, from OF models to just women who are attractive, the women they objectify, harass, use and abuse). There is an abundance of slut-shamey comments about the situation, which should not be. Others justify what she is doing by saying “she is earning money selling dumb men a fake product. I beg to differ: Objectification is, at the end of the day, a prison, not a profit. Sexualisation is not power; it is, however, a bane and an early shroud too heavy to bear. To sell this kind of merchandise is to sell the dehumanization of women and turning their bodies if nothing but objects to sate the sexual desires of men. And not only does it harm Sydney and anyone, especially women, who may be doing this, but also women as a whole. And also, and very importantly; if there were no costumers, there would be no business. Bear this in mind, too. Anyone who is willing to pay for the “complacent” degradation of a real woman, and to am extent, the vilification of the rest of women, is as responsible, if not more, than Sydney is.

(Tagging @bee-unknown )

[cxndiedvi0lets]

Looking for help

TW: Verbal and Physical Abuse, Suicide, Self-Harm, Eating Disorder, Sexual Harrassment, Mental Health, Animal Abuse

For anyone who's reading this, I just want to say thank you, and even if I'm desperately seeking for help. I'm not tagging anyone. You may know me as Violet or CxndiedVi0lets on Tumblr, and I've been blogging a lot in a while.

I've had severe episodes in the past where I may have been acting too extremely or even at this rate suicide. I've already had the mindset at the age of 5, and honestly, I'm really tired of pulling this act.

I honestly just don't want to be in this household anymore.

Over the years, my mental health has become progressively worse, and I've tried to seek help from a psychiatrist and a psychologist and have been diagnosed with severe depression along with psychotic episodes which well knownly for my anxiety and impulsive nature of BPD which of course, my impulse is no excuse but I'm not saying its not hard to control.

I stopped seeing a clinic because of my brilliant and intelligent father, who simply seemed to know everything. Then, continues to mock me for my condition.

So, I stopped on medications and everything else even if I was progressively getting worse, not only mentally but as well as physically.

I begin to fail a lot of my subjects and further have been neglecting my health but, Its not what im going through details.

The part where I've really finally snapped is when he threatened to kill my cats, and I've stopped telling them everything because they always use my past against me or remind it as a "safety precaution." I was sexually assaulted at the age of 7, which lasted until I was 12 before my grandfather was kicked out. To say the least things weren't going smoothly, I thought to myself it never affected me but didn't realized it had affected me in ways of self-destruction thinking it was just a normal cycle of a hormonal teenager which I won't elaborate my acts on which you can decide on.

I've had a lot going on in school. I've been sexually assaulted by a classmate recently, but I never elaborated on it, and his acts on me because I didn't wanna make a biggee deal of what I'm going through, even if it is over. I still see his face every day in school, passing by, he was just changed courses and I tried my best to make myself unrecognisable by changing how I dress and my looks which also kind of resulted me getting bullied lol and having my name written on those ridiculous smash or pass books degrading me and objectifying me. It didn't bother me... or at least I think it didn't. I've had a lot of rumours spread around me, and I have been oversexualising myself and making up stories to sound like im a whore. Stereotypical american netflix high school stuff huh?

And yet, I go back home to be used as my father's punching bag (literally) even when it's my mom's fault. It's always the case, and he always justifies it that me being beaten up despised getting bruised was for lecturing me or whatever, lol.

I also hate the fact that they'd even keep more pets like dogs just to have as a toy then neglect them once they begin to have health conditions and continue to get more than complain about them. They don't even have any remorse if they're dying or sick.

Same way of how my father used to lock me up and forced me not to eat cause I dropped a plate accidentally once lol.

I rarely eat, especially when they're around, and they like to complain about why I don't eat with them. I just like to say im not hungry, and now I dont actually feel any hunger at all, and some point that stress led me to gaining weight and overeating which of course led into other health complications. Like bleeding. Anyways skipping on that.

I honestly don't know what to do trying to hide a façade like this anymore, I just want to die or run away im never happy with literally anything. I can't feel anything, I've gotten used to so much pain, I just don't even react to it even when they start swearing at me or calling me names or anything. I don't feel human at all.

I just wish someone could help me maybe leave me advise or maybe send me something on my paypal just so I can earn to get out of this place. I honestly don't care if they think im selfish, I've had enough of this life.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

it/its pronouns are so beautiful?

[I've seen some well meaning people be like "I don't use it/its pronouns because I don't want to degrade that person or objectify 'them'" but king that's misgendering mate it's the opposite of respecting that person. I used to feel worried when I used those pronouns for people too coz of all the associations with it, I mean I still used it, but I was worried about the objectifying]

BUT for a long while now ive been realising how beautiful those pronouns are.

"it" isn't degrading

My god, look at that human over there. It's so cute! Holy shit it saw me I hope it likes me I want to be friends. It's coming toward me! It smiled at me! I'm so happy.

Look at that person over there. It's very smart and it doesnt like loud noises so it wears headphones all the time to cancel out the noises. It's not very sociable, and thats okay! It'll be happy if I give it a cup of coffee though. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough to go up to it and hand it a cappuccino though it's a stranger.

Look at that girl there. It is a girl and it uses it/its pronouns, and it wishes people would respect that. People uses to objectify it all the time for being a girl. Then people would blame it for objectifying itself. But it has now reclaimed its identity, and it knows that it is a human being and it is also an object and idea, in other words, the girl is whatever it wants to be. It is "it" the same way a beautiful storm is just before it hits, a wave is when it crashes into the shore, an animal is when it burrows out of the ground to sniff at the air. And that is how the girl views itself, and it's not a bad thing to change because of things that have happened to it.

See that old man there? It's tired and it would like to see the beach one day before it dies. It took a while for it to understand all these new pronouns, and when it heard of it/its, something clicked and it just knew that it had finally found out its identity after all these decades. It's looking forward to telling its partner in heaven.

pronouns aren't always the same as gender, and they aren't always different. So many different people and identities and stories.

It/its is beautiful.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Ignorant Cruelty

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Mean!Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader

WORDS: 1,895.

SUMMARY [Requested by Anon]: “Omg can you do and mean chubby eagon plsss🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽❤️”

WARNINGS: cruel!Aegon ii, mentions of objectifying women, mentions of p in v sex, degradation kink, size kink, food play, breeding kink, lactation kink, humiliation kink, stomach/thigh riding, jealous/possessive!Aegon ii, swearing. 

A/N - my mind is a little all over the place, so sorry if I'm taking forever to do your requests, just too many horny thots in such little time. so I've got a few WIPs and trying to smash out all the "simpler" ones xxxxx I WILL eventually get to the requests sent, promise x 

Despite his social stance and political advantage in the realm, Aegon had a notorious reputation of being cruel and imposing.

As a young boy, he was quite the handsome kind, as his endearing Valyrian features accentuated a rare beauty unforeseen in the realm.

However, his unkept and gluttonous habits led the boy to grow in size: larger than his brothers combined respectively, many had grown a distaste for his appearance [although dared not to utter a word directly to his face, in fear of the Prince's wrath].

Aegon was either ignorant to his weight gain or simply was not phased by it, nor its implications. He found enjoyment in his food, and paid no mind to the judgement of others, as he gorged himself during feasts. 

Nonetheless, Aegon sought to the comfort of whores and ladies of the night, in which his wealth could grant him the company of multiple women at once. 

He developed the wicked habit as many inconsiderate men of the realm did, not viewing women as human counterparts, although rather objectifying them and their "assets": many argued the Prince did so, as means to raise his own ego and esteem.

Regardless, whoever his betrothed was to be, was often deemed as doomed: for many noble, highborn maidens of the realm, from powerful families, were reluctant to present themselves as candidates.

From gossip and whisper, it was told that Aegon himself, was hesitant to allow his family the authority to choose and rather, he himself, settle the decision.

That's when you came into his life. You were a meek, shy girl [only because the rumours of your husband to be, made you fearful of the man's capability].

Seeing Aegon in the flesh, did not help either... He was above average height [taller than yourself], wide and formidable, his waist line was extended and round, arms bulky and fleshy, his thighs were stocky and seemed sturdy.

You could not deny, a deeply rooted part of you inside was aroused by the sight of him.

Why he chose you, no one could explain. Whether it was based on pure attraction, you could not decipher either, for Aegon was demeaning, often belittling you and your family.

At first you assumed, it was his attempt at "small talk", misplacing his manners, and yet he remained consistent in his taunting jabs.

As taught by the Septas you'd grown with, you remained silent and obedient to his every word, through till the marriage, and the night of consummation.

Aegon pestered you with gruelling comments on how inexperienced and useless you would be in bed, unable to "satisfy him" like the whores he often pursued.

You'd reached breaking point and retaliated furiously, leaving Aegon stunned as you spat your venom.

"Mayhaps I am no whore that can sate your spoiled, fat cock, but I am a women of virtue. Do well to remember that, husband. Need I remind you, you chose me. You have no one else to blame for your inept decision making in a wife, than yourself."

His stoic, unmoving gaze remained fixated on you, and the fear began to stir inside, despite having initially felt relief with your abrupt confrontation.

Aegon slowly approached you, his stern gaze firmly fixated on you, like a predator hunting prey, until you were cornered between him and the bed frame.

Using his stronger, dominant mass, he'd shove you down onto the bed, as he pins your arms down, his heavy weight you could not find the almighty strength to break free from.

"Has my fat cock been on your mind? A woman of virtue ends tonight, once I fuck you senseless, you'll be begging for more, as the whores do... My very own obedient, little whore."

“You spoke beyond your limit, little one. I’m going to punish you for that.”

Aegon goes feral on you that night and for all the intimate nights to come: rarely speaking to you, other than to give commands and instructions when you fuck, he initially remains oblivious to your emotional needs. Until, he overhears a conversation between you and a fellow maid/sibling, regarding how lonesome you feel.

He understands that feeling all to well, and the guilt begins to stir, as much as he insists on denying it.

Thus, the poor attempts at small talk begins, and you find that he not only attempts to sate himself, however, you also in the process.

The size difference between you two, is incomparable. During the first few times, a maester was sent to tend to your aches and pains: Aegon being the one to send them up, which you liked to presume was his way of caring. 

Yet, as discrete as he may be, he relishes in the idea that he has tainted you so, and often comments on how pathetic and weak you are against him. Immensely fuelling his ego.

Food play to the max: he relishes in his two favourite things: you and desserts. Often arranging for the kitchen to bring up his favourite dishes and wine. Eating cake off your tits, dribbling honey on your ass cheeks and cunt as he licks it clean off you.

He tends to dismiss the power of his own strength, how strapping his grip can be on you, although he does not mean to intentionally inflict it: a whimper or hurt look on your face, he immediately refrains from hurting you further.

Nonetheless, he loves manhandling you: how effortlessly he can pick you up, carry you, swivel you around, until your in just the right position for him.

His cock, [as correct as you were that it was fat] was impressive: seeing it the first time and onwards, you could never acclimate, physically nor mentally. It's girthy circumference, the thick veins that travelled down its mass, gave it this hungry, eager look. Its tip blush red, often glistening with a white, clear film that would ooze fervently at the sight of you.

Undoubtedly, it hurt unlike anything else: yet it was a pleasurable, almost addictive sort of torment.

Aegon had long forgotten the sensation of a maiden's tight, contracting cunt, how your walls clenched for his cock, often commenting how "needy" you were for him.

"Who could sate you like I do? A lean knight, perhaps a slim nobleman, with a needle for a cock... Look at how desperate I've made you for me."

He also gets you to ride his thighs and stomach, always fantasising about it, he forces you to do so, which much to his pleasure, you get off of easily. 

Aegon had grown quite possessive of you, despite struggling to show his affections for you. You'd come to understand that it was his approach to appreciating you.

If he felt that a lord was greedily occupying your time in conversation, he'd lazily send for a servant to fetch you and have you hand-feed him treats and bites of his meal, even a pint of his wine.

He’d publicly scold and torture the culprit later, and punish you in the confinement of your private chambers. 

“Think you can get away with seducing other men like that in front of me, woman. I saw the way you’d laugh at their shit jokes, and what was it having to cop a feel of Lord Stark’s arm. Need I remind you, who the fuck I am. The Prince, the King to be. In fact, I ought to punish you till I’m certain you’ve learnt your fucking lesson, insolent girl...”

The only time he'd grant you the opportunity of any public displays of affection, came with an intent of showing you off as his, having you comfortably seated on his meaty, broad thighs [which you could not deny, was actually quite snug].

Once Aegon was crowned King, it became a habit to have you seated on his lap as he sat atop the Iron Throne. Publicly demeaning you in front of his liege and serving subjects, commenting on how clingy and deprived you were, unable to be without him.

Especially once King, he rather enjoys fucking you in public, risqué areas where a passerby may hear or witness the deed being done. Seeing the fear of humiliation stirring across your face [even though he knows no one will dare to argue against him, as King], he praises your innocence. 

“Terrified? Don’t want your fellow subjects to think the worst of their Queen, how aroused I make you, how easily you submit yourself to me? Look at you, a whimpering, wet mess. Shameful...What would they think of you now?”

You did not mind [despite encouraging Aegon to tone it down initially], for his promiscuous habits of seeking out to sneaky rendezvous with the eager prostitutes that filled the Street of Silk, had come to a long-awaited end.

You had not openly discussed it with him, however he began to notice the sadness in your eyes, at the sheer thought that whenever he left you in the night [even if it was to attend some late council meeting, or to fetch a midnight treat] that your mind pondered over awful, scandalous thoughts.

He would open the conversation one late night, before you'd drift off to sleep, after an exhausting, strenuous round of fucking: he made the promise to you, that his loyalty remained with you.

"I may not be able to erase the disgrace that haunts your mind from my actions, although I vow that you are the only one, Y/N... Since I made the decision, it was only ever you."  

As Aegon's waist line had grown noticeably, his infatuation with you had grown exponentially too.

The primal urge to to drench you in his cum, drowning in his hot, potent seed was a must whenever granted the chance.

"To see you swell as I have, with my babe in your belly. Tits full of sweet milk... Gods be good, we will populate the Red Keep if we must."

Once you do fall pregnant, best believe Aegon would be an absolute pest when it comes to your lactation: eager to taste you, he'd become addicted and persistent in asking to drink from your tit, seeing how sensitive and tense they get from the fullness, you have no choice although to trust in him relieving you.

Actually causes him to gain even more weight from the quality nutrition: milk dribbling from his plump lips, drooling down his soft, blurred jawline, as he becomes ‘milk drunk’ from you.

He loves the feeling of your swollen stomach against his soft, plush one: having you ride him one top, as he kneads at your breast, some milk oozing from your sensitive nipple, he'd lick it off his pudgy fingers.  

Aegon however remains vexed with utilising words to express his affections for you: often sought to spoiling you with opulent gifts from across the realm, rare gems and luscious silk gowns and intimacy between a man and his wife.

He whispers an “I love you” thinking you are dead asleep in the night, embraced in his warm, bulky arms, causing you to smile, hidden beneath the dark.  

Regardless, you are more in tune with your thoughts and words: often expressing your admiration for Aegon, which he savours, always eager for your attention.

Nonetheless, you are content with your lives together, ignorant to the judgement of others, you remain committed to each other. 

general taglist - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @rafesbarbiegirl @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea​

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit