#Conductive Sensation

[gonzodangerfeels]

It goes from how is that gonna fit

To a fist in the cage for dollars.

[pzxwrkdobzgk]

Mardi Gras Madness with Jenna Foxx with this busty black babe Squirt de mi rica esposa con ricas nalgadas Esta rica flaca es follada por un gran pene pretty boys big dick Otro pak Stepdaughter teen tricked a busty MILF stepmom into sex Captivating bimbo Lucy Doll gets off with big shaft Fun HOT mem TPHCM Hentai Uncensored / Pretty woman with a sexy body loves to be fucked from behind / hentai, anime Pauzudo metendo no coroa gay

[willowbelle]

Eating You Out Headcanons

ꕥMonster Trio + Ace & Lawꕥ

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, fem afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

a few drabbles for how the monster trio + ace & law eat you out (>ᴗ•)

cw: cunnilingus. all different positions ;)

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Eating You Out Headcanons

ꕥMonster Trio + Ace & Lawꕥ

Luffy: 

With his head slotted beneath your trembling thighs, Luffy treats your slit with messy, sloppy licks, groaning into your opening as he revels in your exquisite taste; a flavor almost too divine, even for the gluttonous strawhat captain.

“Mm, s’good-” he groans in between licks, the vibrations of his voice coursing into your body and making pleasure conduct your movements. Your hands dart down, haphazardly tangling themselves in his head of messy black hair as you grit your teeth and tug on the strands. 

You can feel the smirk forming on his lips against your slick folds, a silent acknowledgment of his mastery in reducing you to a writhing mess of need. 

His tongue finds itself gliding upwards towards your clit to treat the needy bud with tight circles. Meanwhile, his middle and ring finger meet your opening with an inquisitive nudge, eager to explore.

Your head lulls back as you mewl out soft moans of pleasure, instintively bucking your hips against his digits to silently grant him permission. 

He coaxes more pleasured sighs from your throat as his two fingers make their way inside you, immediately curling upwards to caress your g-spot. The new sensation beckons you closer to the edge of ecstasy, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stifle your moans. 

His fingers work in tandem with the rhythms of his tongue as he pumps them in and out of you. He’s slobbering all over your cunt as his tongue presses flat against your clit, the firm pressure sending shock waves of pleasure coursing through your veins as he shakes his head back and forth. 

"So damn good, all for me," Luffy moans hazily, completely lost in his meal.

Your legs quiver more frantically, snapping shut around the captain’s head as you begin to succumb to the overwhelming pleasures he elicits.

His ministrations remain strong and steady, even as he uses his free-hand to pry your thighs back open. 

“Keep those legs open f’me, baby,” he groans, his voice raspy and hoarse, “Need t’ taste all of ‘ya-”

Zoro: 

The voracious swordsman has you on all fours as he kneels behind you, face pressed firmly into your cunt while his strong hands hold you open. The position is more than vulnerable, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make; for the way his broad tongue dances up and down your slick folds makes any lingering insecurities rush to the back your mind and fade into insignificance. 

With each flick of his tongue, he consumes your thoughts entirely, rendering any other visions inconsequential as he has his way with you.

His ministrations are relentless; you can feel his hunger for you in every flick, every swirl, as he explores the depths of your insides with an expertise born of longing and need.

Your limbs tremble, struggling to hold yourself up amidst the pleasure, but Zoro’s hands remain strong and sure, keeping you firmly in place as he doubles his efforts. 

"That’s it, I’ve got you," Zoro's voice rumbles against your skin, “Come undone.”  His breath is hot against your sensitive flesh, his words washing over you like a wave of heat. 

With his reassurance, you allow the pleasure to take hold, becoming mere jelly in his hands as he holds you up. Satisfied by your compliance, he lavishes attention on your throbbing entrance, treating your opening with firm, purposeful nudges of his hot tongue. 

When his tongue delves into you, penetrating your depths with precision, you can't help but respond with a rush of arousal. It's as if he possesses an innate understanding of your body, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with pleasure before you even realize it yourself.

You merely whimper hazily in response, the sound a mixture of need and desire as he continues to devour you with single-minded determination.

You're teetering on the edge now, your body aching for release, but Zoro shows no signs of slowing down. He's a man possessed, driven by his own insatiable desire to please you, to make you scream his name in ecstasy.

And just when you think you can't take anymore, when you're on the verge of shattering into a million pieces, he finally relents, pulling back slightly to admire his handiwork, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to your cunt. His eyes burn with raw passion as he gazes down at you, a smug grin playing at the corners of his lips.

"Stay, just like that," he instructs, his voice commanding as he leans down and deftly maneuvers himself onto his back, positioning you to straddle his face.

"I need more of you," the swordsman groans before he eagerly latching onto your clit with skilled, greedy sucks.

It’s no secret that Zoro can handle his liquor, but it’s safe to say that tonight, your taste has got him utterly wasted. 

Sanji: 

You’re perched atop the chef's face, his tender hands encircling your waist, guiding your movements as you sway your slick folds over his waiting tongue.

He’s unapologetically desperate for your taste, your mere aroma could provoke blood to stream from his nose and down his chin. 

Sanji’s eagerly flicking his tongue along your folds as he rocks you against his face, moaning softly into your cunt as he savors the taste of your essence lingering on his tastebuds. 

His desperation knows no bounds as he continues to lavish attention upon you, his tongue tracing every contour of your folds with expert precision. With each flick and suck, he elicits a symphony of moans and gasps from you, his own pleasure evident in the way he hums contentedly against your core.

“So divine,” the cook mumbles hazily in between licks.

You surrender yourself completely to the sensations washing over you, your fingers tangling in his blonde hair as you urge him on with something you know he can’t refuse: desperate whispers of his name.

Your hips begin to rock faster, urgency building within you as the sensations intensify. Sanji matches your pace eagerly, his movements becoming more fervent as he responds to your escalating desire. With each thrust of your hips, his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your trembling folds with a relentless hunger.

You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, pleasure building to a fever pitch as you chase the elusive edge of ecstasy.

Sanji continues to worship you with his tongue, prolonging the ecstasy as long as possible even as you cry his name and convulse atop him. 

“You're exquisite," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he continues to devour you with fervent kisses and licks, "I could spend eternity lost in your taste."

Ace: 

No matter the meal, Ace seems to always eat like he’s starving. 

The way he devours you is no different. 

With his head nestled between your thighs, he’s treating your inner thighs with teasing traces of his hot tongue.

The barely-there sensation sends shivers down your spine, causing you to mewl out pleas of desperation, lost in the sway of the mere promise of pleasure. 

“Ace-” you whine, instinctively bucking your hips in the hopes that he’ll grant your insistent eagerness with some sort of relief. 

But even amidst your whimpers, Ace remains headstrong. He’s a master of his craft, afterall, prolonging anticipation, reveling in the way your body squirms and writhes beneath him. He savors every moment, every sound of your desperate pleas, knowing that he holds the power to drive you wild with need.

His tongue continues its tantalizing journey, dancing closer and closer to where you ache for his touch the most. He's in no rush, savoring the taste and scent of your arousal, relishing in the way you respond to him.

As your whimpers grow louder and your movements more frantic, Ace finally relents, pressing his lips against your aching slit. The sudden contact sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, making you gasp and arch your back in ecstasy.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with arousal. 

Ace returns his attention to your trembling thighs, heightening every nerve ending and leaving you achingly aware of every touch, every breath. 

With a mixture of excitement and longing, you watch as he leans in, preparing to delve back into the depths of your pleasure. His tongue, hot and insistent, traces patterns of fire along your heated skin, each stroke sending sparks of ecstasy dancing through your veins.

You can't help but moan his name, a desperate plea for more as you arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely. His hands roam over your quivering flesh before eventually finding their home on your ankles, grasping them firmly. 

You crane your neck to give him a curious glance, “What’re you-” but before you can question his motives, he presses your feet above your head, making them cross at the ankles as he presses the tops of them into the mattress.

The freckled man hums contently, satisfied with your flexibility and the way your cunt looks on full display. 

“Good,” he chuckles lowly, “Now I can really get to work.” 

Ace dips his head down, finally tracing his hot tongue from your weeping entrance all the way up to your clit. 

The long-awaited sensation is even better than you imagined, and you involuntarily throw your head back, letting out a weak cry of pleasure. 

"Mmm," Ace groans against your slit, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he continues his ministrations. He latches onto your clit, suckling desperately on the aching nub as he keeps your legs pressed down, denying you any chance of escape.

The combination of his skilled tongue and the firm pressure of his lips sends you spiraling towards the edge of ecstasy, trembling in his grasp as you moan and gasp in pleasure.

But just as you're about to tip over into the abyss, Ace pulls back slightly, leaving you panting and desperate for more. His lips curve into a wicked grin as he gazes up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"You're so responsive," he murmurs, his voice husky with arousal. "I could do this all night."

And with that promise hanging in the air, Ace returns his attention to your weeping slit, ready to continue his delicious torture until you're begging for release.

Law: 

The wall you’re pressed against is cold against your bare back, nearly making your teeth rattle in your skull. But the contrast is stark as your captain's tongue, hot and wet to the touch as it grazes down your skin, makes up tenfold for the frigidity of the submarine corridors. 

Law kneels before you with a reverence that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. His uncharacteristically vulnerable position at your feet is a sight that leaves you breathless, his grey irises locked onto your doe-eyed gaze with undeniable intensity. 

But it's not just the ferocity of his gaze that sets your heart racing; it's the way his lips and tongue trail down your bare skin with a deliberate tenderness that contrasts starkly with the coldness of the submarine walls. Each kiss is more delicious than the last, leaving you rolling your hips, unapologetically aching for more. 

You can feel the goosebumps rising in response to his ministrations, the contrast between the frigid air and the warmth of his touch sending shivers racing across your skin.

As Law's kisses descend lower, a primal need surges through you, causing your breath to hitch in anticipation.

"Law," you whimper, your voice filled with longing, abandoning all dignity.

The doctor's smirk is teasing, his white, toothy grin shining faintly in the dimly-lit corridor.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasps, “Use your words.”

“You, please-”

And then, he does something new, lifting your leg up by your thigh to rest on his shoulder, leaving you standing on one shaky leg. The sudden movement leaves you gasping for breath, your body arching towards him instinctively as he opens you up completely to his touch.

The vulnerability of the position only serves to heighten the intensity of the moment, your senses ablaze with both vulnerability and desire. You suck in your breath sharply, biting your lip in a futile attempt to stifle the moan that threatens to escape your lips as Law begins to kiss closer to your aching cunt.

Your breaths turn ragged as he finally nuzzles his head between your legs, locking eyes with you as his tongue meets your slick folds with a meticulous stripe. You lean your head back against the wall as you mewl out moans of pleasure, a shiver travelling up and down your spine as your limbs become tingly with need. You can already feel your leg beginning to shake as it dangles over his tattooed shoulder, making a deep blush rush to your cheeks.

Law is undeterred, however, your squirms only aiding his urge to please you. 

You manage a weak whine, your hands tangling in his unruly black hair as you urge him on. His tongue is hot and expertly skilled, and you simply can’t deny yourself the pleasure of grinding against it as he kneels before you. 

“Yeah?” he groans against your slit before flicking his tongue back and forth, “This how you like it?” 

"Mm-mhmm," you manage to whimper, confirming his question. 

His mouth meets your clit with a few gentle sucks as he raises your leg higher, granting himself with more access to your needy entrance.

His tongue is relentless, exploring every inch of your sensitive flesh with expertise. He idly shakes his head back and forth, his tongue dancing along your folds in a phenomenal rhythm. 

With each stroke, each caress, he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, goosebumps erupting all over your skin until you're teetering on the brink of your orgasm, ready to fall into the abyss of pleasure at his command.

Your moans grow louder and more desperate with each passing moment, filling the dimly-lit corridor with the symphony of your pleasure.

Doubling his efforts, Law’s eyes meet yours with a dark, hungry gaze that sucks the air from your lungs, 

"Let go for me,” he groans into you, “Let me take you there."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

tagging: @bby-deerling @help-i-lost-my-sock @missmugiwara @thesunxwentblack @eelnoise @maddddstuff @sanjisprincesswifey @lovelyeddiely @lowkeycasanova @shamblespirate @sanjisjuul @stuckinthewrongworld @fanaticsnail @risenwrites

[ellecdc]

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!readerCW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.” 

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore. 

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you. 

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy. 

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about. 

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right. 

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet. 

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet. 

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion. 

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off. 

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near. 

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them. 

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely. 

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you. 

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly. 

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you. 

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together. 

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no. 

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms. 

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper. 

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face. 

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month. 

[vilsoo]

𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑮𝑨𝑺𝑴.𝑪𝑶𝑴 ⌇GHOST, KÖNIG

ghost x fem!reader x könig || WC: 3,852

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. the dark web was a place every sane person stayed away from. too many horror stories and dark content that barely a few dared to venture in. but you’d rather not be anywhere else than in the hands of two masked strangers…

𖤐 WARNINGS. dubcon, kidnapping, drugging, sadism, voyeurism, bondage (blindfolding, ropes, torture), sex toys, livestream sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, forced creampie, mind break, double penetration, mask kink, impact play.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Deathgasm live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

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The last time you ever saw broad daylight was ripped apart before your eyes.

It was just a relaxing morning stroll. You were always, always aware of your surroundings, especially during the night. But you shouldn’t have underestimated what happens in the day. Things became unsettling when you noticed a white van lurking in your peripheral vision, feeling your skin crawl and your body tense up with paranoia when the doors opened.

At first, you thought you were overthinking about it. Stop being so fucking paranoid, you scolded to yourself. Maybe they’re just contractors or something. Nothing sketchy at all.

You just kept walking that day continuing to embrace the warmth of the sun, sometimes looking over your shoulders just to be sure. But that unsettling, turmoil gut-feeling just couldn’t go away. As if you really were being followed. As if that van parked all the way out here for you.

“Quickly.”

It wasn’t until in just half a heartbeat, a brawny, masked man clung his arm around you, rendering you motionless as he presses a cloth over your nose and your mouth. With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape his grasp but your struggle was to no avail. Your screams were muffled and your vision grew hazy, causing your eyes to flutter as your numb body was pulled backwards, backwards, and backwards... And that was when your world was swallowed away by darkness.

“Shh, shh… We got you now. We’ll be taking care of you now...”

“…Told you she’d be easy, Ghost. We’ll have her all to ourselves…”

On that sinister day, you were the one with the shiny price tag. A beautiful woman walking all alone near a remote area, suddenly kidnapped by two masked men in a white van who had special, ominous plans for you. You could hear their conversations reverberating in your head, trying to register what the hell even happened. With your body temporarily limp and weakened, you could still feel the sensation of their caresses all over you.

Usually kidnappers would be so aggressive handling their female victims. At least, in the movies you’ve seen. The men would rush and scamper out of impatience and impulse as they tie their victims up, desperate to get down to business like it was their last meal on Earth. And even though your brain was foggy, you could register that you were being downed by a drug and abducted. Yet, it all felt… oddly tantalizing.

There was no rush. No sign of impulse nor rough treatment from these mysterious masked men. Instead of this predator-prey dynamic, instead of fear and terror seizing every fiber of your being, the men handled your motionless body like having a cupped hand of water, that not a drop would enter gravity's pull. In the back of a van, you laid on a blanket as gloved hands roamed about your skin, your waist, your face, your thighs… The men cut off your clothes with scissors, ever so gently trying not to hurt you. With your hazy eyes drifting side to side, you caught glimpse of one of them holding rope and the other holding your arms above your head.

“Look at her. So fucking cute when she’s all spaced out like that…”

“She’s so obedient for us already. You’re gonna be a perfect little pornstar for us, aren’t ya’?”

…Pornstar?

Before you knew it, your heavy eyes started to sulk. You were slowing down while the world around blurred, completely losing your coherence as the masked men moved you around like a lifeless doll. You couldn’t stop sighing, babbling nonsense, and whimpering when their large hands just couldn’t keep off of you, hanging your wrists on some metal hook attached to the van’s ceiling so they could caress your body. Your numb legs were then spread open, revealing the soaked fabric of your panties that you heard one of them coo in your ears. You whined when one of them slid their hand down to toy with your slit, aching and so swollen, out of your own fear and arousal. It was futile to even try and close your legs from this violation, yet the heat pooling in between was saying otherwise…

“Fuck, she’s already so wet just by being tied up. Makes me wanna take her here right now.”

“…We have to go now, König. Just keep playing with her clit until she falls asleep…”

The anticipation from such a forbidden desire worsened the ache in your cunt. At this fleeting moment you didn’t know what exactly you wanted anymore; how to choose what was good or what was bad for you. Your foggy brain couldn’t even articulate anything except this writhing sensation, this urge to submit yourself and melt onto the man’s chest just to let him use you. Encircling his fingers on your throbbing clit that you were bashfully moaning and whining, knowing that they were getting off to a pathetic, brainless, helpless woman who’s good for nothing but a fuck…

It was too bad that before you could even build up your orgasm, you were already passed out…

“… And we’re live. Wake her up.”

You had no idea how long you’ve been out. At least your coherence was starting to gauge, but your body was still weakened and frail from the drug. You struggled to open your debilitated eyes, vision hazy and blurry as if you hit your head. And when you tried to move, your wrists were still bound above your head.

Your breathing grew rapid, eyes darting every corner as you were scanning the new environment. Tied in a darkened room with red lighting, followed by a camera on a tripod right in front of you. Your mind immediately thought of this setup as a sex dungeon, hence the chains on the walls and a bed neatly made behind you. Recalling what had happened earlier, you tried to look for the men in masks, creating noises by dangling the metal hook above you and whimpering to let them know you’re awake. But as far as you could tell, you couldn’t make out any other presence lingering in the room…

Your heart was a pounding loud drum in your chest. Panic scorches in your brain, but your touch-starved body betrays your inhibitions… You were completely naked, exposing yourself in front of the camera. In your mouth, a red ball gag pooling with drool that dripped down to your stomach and on the floor. Your legs were free from the rope, however, you were on your tippie toes— the rope holding your wrists were too high that it was a struggle to relax them or you’d injure yourself. Dangling on rope, gagging and drooling on a ball, naked in front of a camera that you assumed to be recording already… how much more lewd could this be?

A gloved hand emerging from the shadows makes you flinch as it caresses you from behind. Your skin tingled when you felt the man’s body heat transmit onto your back, hearing him breathe deeply. You were able to study him up close— an alluring, mysterious man wearing a balaclava with a skull design, recalling him being called “Ghost.” Another pair of gloved hands greet you by massaging your breasts, your body immediately succumbing to this white-hot wave of sensation, desperate to be handled like this that more heat pooled between your legs. You turn your head and meet his gaze; piercing, forest green eyes and a draped mask, the other man with the German accent known as “König.”

“You’re not gonna struggle and try to resist us, are you?” Ghost teased, his voice so intoxicating than any alcohol you’ve ever consumed. He had this husky, sultry British accent; something you’ve never expected coming from a stranger like him. It only turned you on more.

You shake your head at him meekly, replying with a faint moan when he suddenly grips your ass. Ghost immediately catches the doe-eyes you gave him, the right kind of heat and lust pooling in your eyes. This was all so, so wrong… to be abducted and chained in the dark, to be turned on by strangers in tactical gear who drugged you and had sinister plans for you… But yet, you couldn’t fight this brain-fazing sensation from the anticipation quivering inside, wondering what was going to happen to you as you were in the hands of these men. And your aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing, having to hold back a whimper from how needy and slutty you really were...

“Good girl,” Ghost praised as he held your face with one hand. “Tonight, everything we do to you is gonna be livestreamed. You’re not here just to please us— you’ll have to please our audience, too. You like being shown off, pretty girl?”

“Mhm.” You nodded like you were already made for this, allowing what your body was secretly ravenous for. A little enthusiasm, but also bashfulness— the epitome of submission. Perhaps deep down, you adored being showed off; basking in the limelight of being a free use in front of thousands of strangers…

König’s hand slithers down your back and onto your ass, yelping when he spanked it so abruptly that it left a throbbing sting. Your back involuntarily arched and when his fingers just fit right in between your thighs, chafing your swollen, wet cunt that it was hard holding back your pathetic whines and moans.

“Getting off to this already?” he coaxed, now increasing the speed of his fingers teasing your folds that you threw your head back on his shoulder. Immediately writhing on his fingers playing with your swollen clit, unable to respond properly when Ghost wrapped his hand around your throat.

“They wanna hear you scream,” Ghost muttered into your ears, slightly smirking under his mask. “You can’t be enjoying all this without a little bit of pain.”

As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn’t. The panic and anticipation spiraled into shameless arousal. Without warning, König eased two of his fingers knuckles deep inside your wet cunt so easily, thrusting insanely fast that your eyes fell half-lidded, convulsing around his fingers hitting that spot that made you squirm. Shamelessly spreading your legs as Ghost kept playing with your tits, squeezing both of your nipples so tight that your loud squeal reverberated off the walls of the room.

That mix of pleasure and pain; you’d be lying to yourself if you truly enjoyed it… It was torturous, it was too brutal to endure, but your skin was flashing hotter than ever, your clit throbbing erratically with a heartbeat of its own. König felt his cock stirring in his suit, getting off to your helpless state that he thrusted his fingers so hard, curling them to abuse your g-spot. Denying your own orgasm was painfully inevitable. The two men could see it pooling in your eyes like it was unobtainable, watching your body constantly squirming under their touches.

“You think she deserves to come?” taunted Ghost.

“We’ll make her come as many times as she can. Even if she can’t handle it.” You could feel König’s other hand slithering down to your inner thigh as if he was about to grab it, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “And we’re not gonna fucking stop no matter how many times you beg. You’re our little fucktoy now and you’re gonna be treated just like one.”

Lust speared through you from their words. The men were unpredictable in their own sinister ways; it caught you off guard from the way König abruptly lifted your left leg and held it in the air as Ghost takes a vibrator onto your clit. Fingers still fucking into your cunt and your sensitive clit getting overstimulated had you yanking the rope, your body writhing and squirming that they tell you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” and forced you in place. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes welling with tears and your face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension.

Never have you been so turned on you couldn’t see straight. It was a fleeting second after you realize your orgasm had already washed over you, your hips stuttering like a riptide from this delirious torment. Knowing that there were thousands of strangers getting off to this, getting off to a helpless slut tied up and tortured by masked men that can’t do anything except enjoy it, you basked in it. Forced multiple orgasms, stinging pain, lewd noises, and loud screams… this was all related to the dark web you’ve been hearing recently.

After collecting yourself, a wave of clarity hit you so suddenly that things were starting to make sense. There were recent kidnappings of women who were found later on a livestream website called Deathgasm.com, where numerous videos of gangbangs with these women and masked men in tactical gear are recorded live. They take place in either the back of a van or in a dark room, which viewers assume as a sex dungeon.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. As sick and twisted this was, your body couldn’t help but succumb to this indescribable feeling of pleasure and torture. There were even times out of curiosity you’d search the site and realize how attractive the men in masks and tactical gear are. Toying and playing with a tied up woman who also secretly succumb to this, their quivering fear and terror surrendering into arousal and tantalization. Having no choice but to orgasm over and over even though it’s too much, looking into the men’s faces with lingering dark anonymity and their brawny, large bodies looming over them just to fulfil their filthy, dark plans. And you would not trade this for anything in the world.

Perhaps you adored being showed off. Basking in the limelight of being used like a fucktoy and watched by strangers online that are fucked up in the head, like an exhibitionist. Or maybe you’ve been brainwashed to even think this way— maybe you just have little, fucked up fantasies of your own... It didn’t even matter anymore; your thoughts became mush when Ghost and König suspended you up in the air this time, your wrists and ankles bound behind you with your legs also tied apart. The gag was finally off but a blindfold had covered your eyes, not being able to tell who’s who and what the men plan to do to you now.

You were already a mess; strings of saliva and drool hanging off your chin that dripped onto König’s cock, slowly easing it in your widened mouth. It was Ghost’s turn to play with your pussy and ass, moaning and yelping when he spanked your cheeks so harshly. Nothing could compare to this amount of excitement pounding in your pussy, practically whining on Konig’s fat cock in your mouth as Ghost kept teasing you.

To describe the comments in the live chat as obscene is an understatement— the men were greedy, ravenous, filthy. Shamelessly admitting their own raunchy, fucked up scenarios with you tied up like that. Degrading you like a worthless whore, admiring your body and pussy that’s good for fucking, or sending money to get Ghost and König to fulfill their requests:

[ $20 ] both of you fuck her pussy and ass at the same time. stretch out that tight asshole

[ $25 ] carve the word “slut” on her thigh i want that bitch bloody and screaming in pain

[ $22 ] make her squirt i wanna see that pussy juice all over the camera lens

And though you couldn’t read the comments or see the camera, you just indulged into this and presented yourself as a horny, free-use slut that’s made for fucking. You can feel Ghost’s cockhead brushing the folds of your cunt, coating it with your juices. König thrusted his cock straight inside your throat that it was too much for you to handle, gagging and moaning pathetically as Ghost kept teasing you it felt like utter torture. But that blissful feeling blossoming in your stomach was saying otherwise…

You were so desperate for more friction; Ghost took sick pleasure in seeing you like this, writhing and bucking your hips for him to slide inside your cunt already. When he finally eased his cock so deep, you were given no warning as he pounded so hard and rough into you. The sensation of your cunt getting stretched out from his size, grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth on his cock... You were a wrecked mess already; your face streaked with tears, your chin dripping with drool, and your skin all slick and sweaty. The thought of being reduced to a free use fuck-slut that thrives off from only cock and orgasms as you were suspended mid-air… you could no longer think for yourself anymore.

“Look at you. Getting all dumb and brainless over our cocks,” Ghost cooed, harshly spanking your ass. “You like being our little pornstar? Knowing that a bunch of strangers online jerk off to you being used like this?”

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as the men kept pounding and thrusting, hearing König pant heavily and Ghost grunt when you kept squeezing ever so tightly around him. In just a minute, another orgasm. But that didn’t stop Ghost mercilessly pounding into you like an animal gone wild and König fucking your throat so relentlessly. Your screams and moans form into gags urging out, drips of precum and drool seeping on your chin that König smeared all over your glossy face. The more they sensed that you were taking pleasure from all this, the more brutal they were with you.

It felt like you were in the air for hours as the men switched around and took turns. Your cunt was becoming overly slick with the copious amounts of cum that was being pumped into it, some left on your ass and some dripping onto the floor. Even when they weren’t inside you, the continual pounding and the oozing cum throbbed in your walls. You still couldn’t see anything and you were still bound. It wasn’t until your eyes started feeling heavy again and your body fell numb; the men didn’t like that.

“We didn’t say you could fucking sleep,” König chided as he harshly grabbed your face and slipped off the blindfold.

“That drug is still hitting you, huh?” teased Ghost as he messing around with the ropes that held you in the air. “For that, we’ll make her do the work this time. Untie her and get her on top of me on the bed so she’ll ride me. Leave her arms tied only.”

You couldn’t protest, for your words started to slur and your mouth was only used for moaning pathetically. Once König brought you down from the air, he shoved you onto the bed, holding your legs in the air as Ghost laid underneath you. There was another camera facing the bed that you noticed, the light burning into your retinas as you stare into it. Although you were half awake, a weak smile stretches on your lips, wanting to the viewers know how prideful you were of this and how good Ghost and König make you feel.

When Ghost slowly settled inside your ass, you’ve felt a stirring sensation in your stomach. Never have you thought about losing your anal virginity so soon, but it had you throwing your head back and whining. He had the ball gag from before in his hands and wrapped it back around your opened mouth, telling you to keep staring into the camera and ride him like the dirty, messy slut that you are. With your feet on the bed and your legs spread, you slowly settle down on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and your body contorting from how intense it all felt.

You knew that you didn’t wanna go painfully slow; you wanted Ghost to feel good as well. To the point where he’d finally hold your hips in the air and fuck his cock into your ass and König can finally slide himself in your pussy, overstimulating you so greatly. It was hard to keep balance with your hands bound behind your back and your staggering strength. But you kept telling yourself that this was all that you wanted, grinding your hips and bouncing your ass up and down, emitting juddering grunts from Ghost.

“Keep your legs spread open for me,” König ordered. “Show to the camera how good you take two cocks inside of you.”

Before you knew it, you were sandwiched between the two masked men, filling your holes and stuffing you harshly. Sitting on Ghost’s cock as your legs were wide open, letting them both pound into you… You lost the feeling of stability in your entire body, your inhibition being taken over by the desperate sensation of cock. It broke your mind, but that was what you craved for. It was pure euphoria, rapturing you in a burning enticement that you were bound in. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as Ghost and König fucks you through your third orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.

such a hot fucking slut taking both dicks

i wish i could fuck her cunt and put that dumb bitch in her place

how many times did she come already 😂

You enjoyed it. You enjoyed it all. The mind-wrecking, the overstimulation, the humiliation, the pain, the thought of being watched and masturbated to by perverts… It felt as if your life had been reformed. You were now a slutty whore that was good for nothing but a fuck. A depository for cum, just holes for fucking and a toy to torture. Your cunt was now battered and bruised, ass stinging and throbbing from being slapped multiple times, and both of your holes stretched and aching from how deep and rough they fucked you out. All those sensitive, velvet tissues that should never see the light of day, for they were property of Ghost and König only. Your poor cunt couldn’t stop flexing over nothing, yearning for that feeling of fullness again.

The next few hours after you were done being used, you were tied up in a strappado position with a vibrating dildo tied to your cunt. Left alone in the dark with the camera still on and recording, still blindfolded and gagged. Forced orgasms over and over, stranded like this throughout the rest of your days and nights until they felt like using you again. From what Ghost told you, the viewers seemed to favor you. They wanted to see more of you on Deathgasm, never to return to your old life and remain a free-use.

“Next time, I’ll make it hurt real good for you,” he forewarned before. “They can watch and cum as many times as they please, but you… You only cum for me now.”

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by duskidraws ♥︎

𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @aft0nsimp @crysugu @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @apwing @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @mqfuyuu @strawberrymilk4k @strvwberrymilk @maidenssymphony @shycoffeetaco @zippertwat @killzenin @titantears @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @maddietries @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins

[house-of-daena]

my precious experiment [afab.dottore x amab.reader]

contents: no pronouns specified, dom reader/sub dottore, nsfw, fem terms w/ genitalia, dubcon, monsterfucking, biting, blood, masochistic dottore, dacryphilia, monster anatomy, 2 c0cks, breeding kink, monster rut, belly bulge, size kink, viginity taking, oral (giving), typical dottore warnings, dottore tries to pretend he's in control, tell me if i miss anything.

꒰ hm, just some thoughts. sorry if it's kinda bad it's been a while since i've written smut, but i promise the next post will be relatively better. rqs r open btw꒱

usually, miscalculations don't happen in dottore's experiments. sure, his research hits the occasional dead end and failure is inevitable. after all, it is part of the journey to achieve his goals; without failure, how can he improve and ascend into a new realm of knowledge?

but this was unprecedented.

you were a successful result of a recent experiment the doctor had conducted. the tsaritsa wanted more power into the fatui, especially when the traveler was running rampant about. however, you were still a prototype, and due to this, you've become dottore's obedient little errand/guard dog that is at his beck and call instead.

you could talk but chose silence and actions to communicate. dottore discovered you were very easy to please; just mere praise and gentle pats on your head, and you're roaring to take on any task the doctor shall give.

but since you were so obedient, dottore never would have expected you to act out of line. he should've been more prepared for a multitude of scenarios that could put him in danger. you were a beast, at the end of the day.

a beast in heat.

looming over him, your hand pinning his wrists above his head, your body pressed against his. even though your brain was drowning in a haze of lust, you were mindful of his reactions and the profanities spilling out of his lips.

"what do you think you're doing?" he hisses through his sharp teeth, glaring at you through his mask. you only let out a deep rumble in your chest as a reply, your free hand trailing down his torso, your sharp claws tearing cuts into his clothes. "don't tell me you think i'd take care of your heat." he felt a sense of dread, an emotion unfamiliar, throughout his entire body when you let out a purr, confirming his assumption.

dottore can't fathom the idea. him, the 2nd of the 11 fatui harbingers, catering to your needs? ridiculous! it should be you who'd be pleasing him! he squirmed against your grip, kicking and thrashing against your hold. you loosened your grasp, sensing his distress, but no matter what dottore did, you were too big, too strong, for him to manage an escape.

this is the first time dottore has cursed himself for creating such a successful experiment.

as if you could read into his mind, you pull back from his neck, blinking your clouded eyes at him. you stared deeply into his soul that dottore could feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand. then, you spoke, gently and softly, in contrast to your beastly form, "do you have any precautions on an event like this?" you ask, your claws slowly digging into the tender flesh of his thigh, making him bite his bottom lip to suppress any embarrassing noise that threatens to leave his throat.

it was rare for you to speak. he'd only hear you let out small grunts when he injects you with a big needle or training with other fatui members. hearing you speak out a whole sentence sent an inexplicable shiver down his spine, and he felt his breath hitch.

when he didn't answer, too distracted by the tingling sensations on his body at the mere sound of your voice, you settled yourself between his legs and pressed yourself against his crotch. dottore's eyes widened, and he almost let out a gasp.

you were so warm against him, even when your clothes separated your skin from his. he could feel it straining and twitching against your pants and slowly rubbing yourself against him. fuck, it was dangerously big. he doesn't remember giving you something like that! somehow, the doctor struggled to think of anything else other than the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, gulping as he tried to regain his composure.

"have you made any suppressants for me?" you inquire once more, pressing a wet kiss against his cheek as you slowly lifted him up with just a hand, letting his wrists go to wrap his legs around your waist, to which he absentmindedly complied. "or did you plan to neglect me until my heat subsides?" your lips moved languidly against his marred skin, careful at his sensitive spots and started nipping at his neck, your sharp teeth forming aching bruises.

dottore grit his teeth as his hands shakily rested on your shoulders, weakly gripping them as he tried not to get too lost in the foreign feeling burning inside of him. he has never experienced such a thing. it was quite overwhelming, especially when you just grabbed him in the middle of his work and pinned him against the wall so suddenly. "you... were very well-behaved, i— ngh! i hadn't taken into account that your animalistic parts would go as f-far as giving you a heat cycle..."

he sounded like he was a bit quizzical at your predicament, probably planning to run down some tests on you later to further understand your form. it made your heart flutter when he spoke so analytically, especially towards you. you adored the doctor so much, and he sounded heavenly when he was holding back moans and catching his breath in between his words.

"then, since you are my creator, you should take responsibility for whatever happens to my body..." dottore finally couldn't hold back and let out a small shriek when you sank your teeth onto a sensitive area on his neck, hard enough to draw blood. you relished the iron taste against your tongue, so you bit him again and again, leaving red bruising marks all over his neck and down to his collarbone. all he could do was helplessly whine at your ministrations and claw at your broad shoulders, trembling against your body as he slowly descended into madness.

the tips of his ears reddened when you let out a chuckle, holding him so close in your arms. you had barely done anything, and he was already shaking. my doctor is beyond adorable, you thought to yourself.

you were just so taken by him, could he even blame you?

so utterly debauched by his everything. his body littered with beautiful scars and marks that reminded you of blank canvases gaining life and meaning with gorgeous colors and patterns, his red eyes that could easily pierce through your beastly facade, and his scent, alluring, addicting.

you could smell him everywhere you went inside the laboratory. it doesn't help that he has multiple segments that smell just like him. it drove you crazy, it was dizzying just to breathe whilst you stood on guard with the gnawing desire that was slowly consuming you. it only greatly intensified with your heart.

you didn't understand why your instincts wanted him. it was as if it was just in your system to want him, need him. your blood boils just by having him trapped in your arms, and your body reacts too aggressively when his skin touches yours. you just want him to keep him close to you, to bury your cocks inside his holes and fill him up to the point that you know he'll have your pups.

it was maddening.

but you're a patient little pet. you have enough self-control to hold yourself back so as to not upset your owner, creator. you respect your owner first and foremost. you purr and nuzzle against his neck, peppering wet, apologetic kisses on his skin, hoping it was enough to allow you to indulge your animalistic urges and ravish him until he could only think, feel and need your cocks.

"what's your verdict, doctor?" your voice seemed to snap him out of his trance, head tilting upwards to look at you. "will you help me?"

dottore, for the first time in years, felt his heart racing. he didn't even think it was even possible anymore. it felt so odd to have you towering over him; he wanted to yell at you, to punish you for your misbehavior and perhaps deem you as a failure of an experiment. but the longer this went on, the more his body began to react so unusually...

he could feel himself throb between his legs, and he struggled to breathe. any coherent thought he had was thrown out the window, and his mind was vacant. he knew his pussy was fucking soaked, clenching onto nothing as you rubbed your crotch against his. he didn't understand why he seemed to like being overpowered so easily.

the only distant memory he could recall when he felt the same way was when he was back at the akademiya, but that was only because of his hormones, and he has never really dealt with such time-consuming activities.

but now, he can't find himself to deny you. how could he? you were practically holding him down until he couldn't move. who knows what you'd do to him if he were to refuse?

with a last attempt to not appear as pathetic as he was at the moment, he let out a shaky scoff and straightened his back. "fine," he relents with a firm tone, dazedly glaring at you, "but only to... further investigate the state your... body is in..." it was a flimsy excuse to save his ego, but it was enough for you.

you gave him a peck on the lips, and your tail began to wag enthusiastically behind you. "thanks, doc. i'll be gentle with your first time."

oh, how you adore the look he gave you. it was simply too obvious based on his reactions. oh well, his ego will be ruined into nothing later on.

archons, why did he agree?

dottore felt like he was dying. this was a pleasure he never thought of experiencing in his whole life. your monstrously long and wide tongue slipping so easily inside his pussy and stretching his insides with little concern got him doubling back. he has your head locked between his thighs, but you didn't seem to care as you relentlessly lapped at the sweet ichor that dripped between his legs and wriggled your tongue as deep as you could inside his walls.

oh gods, it felt so good. he was practically riding your mouth as his hips stuttered against the movements of your tongue. he felt like he was going to explode in pleasure, his sensitive parts that have never been explored by another quivering at each touch. the pad of your thumb rubbed incessantly against his clit, and he can't help but throw his head back, letting out such obscene sounds you never thought you'd hear coming from his lips.

your claws, which you have dulled for his convenience, buried deep into his other hole, covered in his own spit. you thrust your claws in rhythm with your tongue's movement, and he was losing his mind. it felt too good— it was like he ascended into the heavens. his body burned hotter and hotter, and his walls convulsed at the slick feeling of your tongue.

his hands grabbed hold of your horns, tugging on it so harshly as if he was about to tear it from your forehead. you could only groan at the aching feeling, speeding up your movements and making him choke on his own moans.

"f-fuck! slow down i— ahn! i-i cAN'T! OH! hgnnn..." he slurs out, his body so overwhelmed at the mind-numbing pleasure, but his words contradicted his actions. his hips moved erratically to meet your thrusts from both your claws and your tongue, clenching on them as if he never wanted to let you go.

and when you finally deemed he was ready, holes stretched out enough to take your cocks, you gripped his hips to stop him from moving. slowly, you let your tongue slide out of his cunt and your fingers leave his ring of muscles. he whined at the sudden emptiness, glaring at you with his watery, ruby eyes and scowling. "i was so close! why the hell did you-"

you easily, but gently, moved him down to your lap, allowing him to straddle you as you sit up. your tail immediately coiled around his waist possessively as you purred at him. dottore gulped when he understood what you wanted, and watched as you removed your belt and unbuttoned your pants.

okay, dottore definitely does not remember giving you two cocks. did it just develop while you were in the incubation pod? having one massive cock is already too much for dottore to handle, but two?

your tail moved his body, hovering his holes over your cocks. he jolts from how warm your cock heads were when it pressed against his holes. he grabbed your shoulder and his eyes were blown wide with panic. "w-wait- that won't fit!"

you only cooed, your hands roaming his body so tenderly as if to ease his tensed muscles. you didn't speak, but your eyes told him everything, 'we'll make it fit.'

before he could argue with you, you've already aligned yourself and slowly pushed his hips down onto your thick cocks. your girth was too much, his insides burned at the stretch as your cocks dragged against his walls as he kept sucking you in. you were barely halfway in, and he already felt like he was going to pass out.

you were nothing short but sweet to him, wiping his tears (when did he start crying?) and cooing softly into his ear. you were taking it considerably slow just for him, despite your animalistic urges telling you to just slam him down and fuck him.

dottore took in a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around your neck. leaning back and gritting his teeth, he tried to keep his body lax as you eased him down on your lengths until you were fully sheathed inside him. he raked his hands through your hair, and you immediately leaned against his touch, following the warmth of his hand.

"good beast," he utters in your ears, and he hears you trilling happily at his praise. you grabbed his face with your hand and pulled him into a kiss, tilting his head to devour his mouth. he moaned at the taste of himself that lingered on your tongue, closing his eyes.

though his praise did the opposite of what he wanted when you slowly lifted him up from your cocks until it was only the tips were inside of him, too distracted by the dizzying kiss, before slamming him down onto your lap.

dottore pulled away to let out a scream, eyes rolling back as you bounced his body up and down at your cocks. it felt like you've punched all the air out his lungs, trying to split his body in half, every time his holes takes your dicks whole again.

fuck, he felt so good. his insides felt so warm and tingly, practically carving his walls into the shape of your cocks. each thrust, he lets out these cute "ah! ah! ah!", babbling about how you're too big and that he can't take it and that he's about to break. but you were too far gone, letting the beast inside of you take control as you fuck into dottore relentlessly, again and again, burying your dicks impossibly deep inside of him.

when he looked down, he sees a small bump that disappears and reappears whenever he bounces. he looks at it in awe, drooling all over your chest and marveling at how big you are. his holes clenched impossibly tighter around your cocks, and you growled at the feeling. his gummy walls felt like absolute heaven, and you picked up your pace.

dottore was doing everything he can to not pass out. his throat was beginning to hurt from how much he was screaming and moaning and chanting your name over and over. he was seeing stars and his nails rake down the bare skin of your back, leaving marks and making them bleed.

"f-fuckk! too b-big!" he moans, trying to catch his breath, "s' good! d-don't stop!"

and you took that order to heart. even when dottore has begged you to stop, that his mind was so numb he could barely form coherent sentences, that his holes were so raw and spent from how long you've been fucking him, that he has come so many times he can't even cum anymore, yet you still continue to fuck him.

"n-no more! fuck! i-i can't- i've already cum so much- please!" he begs, vision blurry from his tears. "ahn! h-hannh! fuck im cumming again! imcummingimcumming-"

he was barely awake at this point, laying flat on his stomach as he weakly grips on the sheets for his dear life. you were not satisfied just yet, even if you've filled him up to the brim. he could feel his stomach swell with your warmth, but you only kept going, groaning into his ear and purring happily from the pleasure.

you were going to get it after you're done. he was going to make you feel the pain that even a monster like you can't bear it. he swears on it pathetically, hiccuping between airy moans. he couldn't feel his lower half anymore, but he still tries to move against your thrusts.

it was so addicting. the pleasure, the high... he will do something about your behavior later... but for now, he'll allow you to continue filling him up with your cum. he was conducting a test on the limitations of your body, after all.

[brookheimer]

shiv was not being altruistic nor intellectually self-interested when she voted against kendall. that was pure raw visceral desperation to maintain some semblance of dignity that she felt kendall being ceo would shred her of. sometimes people do not act in other people’s best interests or their own best interests. sometimes people do the wrong thing for the wrong reasons just because it feels like the right, the only, thing to do. shiv could not let kendall be ceo. she just couldn’t. not because she wanted to sacrifice herself to “stop the cycle,” not because she made a calculation and decided tom was her best interest — because the thought of kendall being ceo and acting like That the rest of their lives when shiv earned that job, she fucking earned it, that was too much to fucking bear. watching him sit in dad’s chair, conduct that vote, grin with entitlement and cockiness and certainty — seeing that elicited a visceral painful all-consuming sensation not dissimilar to overwhelming nausea that, summed up in two words, would simply be: fuck. no. she couldn’t live with that. she just couldn’t. it’s not kind. it’s not smart. it’s just human. painfully, destructively human. because sometimes, that’s all there is to it. not just for shiv, but for everyone. god knows roman and kendall have had those same feelings, made those same self-destructing yet necessary-feeling decisions throughout the show. why does it have to be different for shiv? why can’t she be painfully destructively human, prone to impulsive ill-conceived viscerally felt actions, like everyone else? why are we incapable of allotting her the same nuance and humanity (the good and the bad), the same trauma-informed self-destructive life-ruining hamartias, as we do her brothers? why can’t we fit a whole woman in our heads?

[csuitebitches]

Fearless Social Confidence: Strategies to Live Without Fear, Speak Without Insecurity, Beat Social Anxiety, and Stop Caring What Others Think - Patrick King book notes

Socially confident people:

expect to be accepted. When they meet strangers, they expect to make a good impression. They never approach situations thinking, “What if they don’t like me?” Instead they think, “I hope I like them.”

evaluate themselves positively. Socially confident people are encouraging, positive, and accepting of themselves. They give themselves leeway not to be perfect and don’t beat themselves up too harshly when they are not.

feel comfortable around superiors. Socially confident people feel comfortable because they don’t feel threatened, or that their flaws and vulnerabilities will be highlighted by the other person’s qualities.

With a lack of social confidence, you are usually choosing the thought that is cruelest to yourself.

when navy SEALs recognize that they are feeling overwhelmed, they regain control by focusing on their breath—breathing in for four seconds, holding for four seconds, and then out for four seconds, and repeating until you can feel your heart rate slow down and normalize.

Core beliefs: 

Steps in a thought diary entry can be arranged in the easy-to-remember A-C-B format—

Activating Event. Note down the event/ situation. This is simply the origin point of your emotional change. It’s whatever caused your emotional status to change from calm to agitation (a memory, a song, etc).

Consequences. In this step you identify the specific emotions and sensations that arose. These could be simple feeling words— “anxious,” “unhappy,” “sickened,” “panicky,” “melancholy,” “confused,” and so forth.

Beliefs. This is where the action begins. How do you link the activating event with the consequences? What unconscious narrative or story about yourself was told to achieve the consequence? (“What was I thinking?”  “What was going through my head when this happened?”  “What’s wrong with that?”“What does this all mean?”  “What does it reveal about me?”)

Now you’ve gotten to the bottom of your situation and figured out what your core beliefs are.

The first step is writing down one of the core beliefs you’ve just uncovered. Ask yourself what experiences you’ve had that prove your core belief wasn’t always true. Generate as many experiences as you can and be very specific about what happened.

Write down the core belief you’re examining.  Think of ways that you can put that belief to the test. These are actual tasks that you can perform.  Then, write down what you expect or predict will happen after conducting these tasks if your core belief was true.  Perform the tasks.  Write down what really happened after you completed your task.  Compare and contrast your predictions with what actually happened. Finally, document what you learned from the task and come up with a new, more reasonable core belief that goes in line with your discoveries.

Bushman’s results imply that sometimes the best course of action after being provoked to anger is to just sit quietly and let it pass.

There’s a direct link between social anxiety and negativity. A 2016 Australian research study showed that “elevated social anxiety vulnerability is characterized only by facilitated attentional engagement with socially negative information.” Obsessing over negative details—including by constantly talking about one’s problems—only reinforces one’s social fears and does nothing to inspire real confidence in a social setting.

Personalization is the mother of guilt. In the cognitive distortion of personalizing, you feel responsible for events that cannot conceivably be your fault. While it is admirable to take responsibility for your actions, there are things completely out of your control: the subway schedule, other people’s actions, and a million day-to-day factors.

Common cues of overgeneralization are “always” and “never.” When starting a sentence or a thought with “always” or “never,” consider whether you have the experience or evidence to back up the statement.

Other people aren't only what they are showing to the world. Most people put on a good show. But do you really know what might be going on in their private life? Take comfort from the fact that while there will be many people who are better at certain things than you are, there are also most certainly things that you will be better at.

If you are self-conscious and worried that people will judge you if you say something stupid or “off,” there's an easy workaround to that. The best approach is simple preparation. Create answers to predictable questions and conversations. Run that mental videotape in your mind about your past 10, 20, or 30 social conversations. I guarantee they are not all that different from each other.

Figure out the general questions that people will ask and the topics that will come up in normal conversation and be prepared with story-answers. For example, How was your weekend? What are you doing this weekend? How was your day? What do you do for work?

How can we ease ourselves into social confidence little by little? 

List the social situations you avoid. Ask yourself what kinds of gatherings or circumstances you steer clear of and write them all down in a list. Your list should include both physical situations—parties, family gatherings, work presentations, and so forth—and personal experiences that you don’t want to face.

Give each situation a SUDS level from 0 to 100.

Plan your goals.

Build your goal stepladder. You’ve planned a goal and have decided to start work. Remember, situational exposure is a bit-by-bit process.

[faretheeoscar]

NEEDY MIGUEL pt 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x SpiderFemaleReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, Masturbation, sex toys, brief mentions of sex, a form of voyerism (?), oral sex, Peter B. mini cameo that could lead to something else in the future

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 (final soon)

Needy Miguel who was siting down on his desk having a bad morning after not sleeping enough last night, having to conduct meetings all morning leaving him in a very cranky mood.

Needy Miguel that shifted uncomfortable on his seat thinking about how today was another day when he was a coward and instead of trying to get closer to you, he sent you away on a 3 day mission

Needy Miguel that searching for one of his tools on his desk to occupy his mind in something else that wasn’t frustrating him more, notices a small gift on one of his drawers and inspects it, his face turning 5 shades redder as he opens the box and quickly tosses it back

Needy Miguel that is fuming in anger thinking about who could’ve pranked him that way, stuffing a sex toy on his desk? That was a very untaste full joke that made his blood boil.

Needy Miguel that overthinks and calls out for Lyla, she says to him that only one hand full of people had come to his office, she includes your name on that list and he quickly dismisses her, for him to be alone with his thoughts feeling a pressure tightening on his chest and his mind clouding.

Needy Miguel that stares at the toy and can’t stop thinking about the subtle looks you gave him that morning on the meeting, could it really be you that left him that in there? No, that was ridiculous, it was probably one of Parker’s jokes, he’d always be nagging him about not getting any action, and that he needed to blow off his frustrations some way, hinting to the two of them maybe… well thinking about that let’s not go that way, that’s a total different story for another day

Needy Miguel that reaches out for the toy and takes it out of the box, to inspect it, the toy looking so small against his big palms, he introduces one finger and his eyes immediately roll to the back of his head at the feeling of it.

Needy Miguel that quickly made disappear the crotch part of his suit as his hard rock cock spring out already leaking precum that will do as lube for now

Needy Miguel that slowly takes the toy and push his cock inside it groaning loudly at the sensation not even caring if anyone could hear him outside his office

Needy Miguel that made a mess of himself in less than 3 minutes just by the sensation of something different than his hand, and how the semitransparent small thing looked rolling against his thickness as it squeezed him hard cause it could barely fit around him

Needy Miguel that kept jerking himself with the toy even if he was sensitive and his thighs twitched by the overstimulation of it, cause for him one orgasm simply wasn’t enough

Needy Miguel that got the urge of having a visual aid and while still moving the toy up and down his length reached out for the footage of you before you left for the three day mission he sent you and zoomed in on his screen

Needy Miguel that whined desperately as he watched how your eyes were focusing on him the whole time he conducted the meeting, hips buckling up and thinking about how he’ll keep your eyes focused on him not letting you close them even if he rolled his girth so deep inside you that he would reach your cervix and make you both moan in need

Needy Miguel that let out short gaps of breath as he focused on stimulating his tip with the wrinkly parts of the toy as he saw your pretty face pouting when he said he was sending you away with other members that weren’t him.

Needy Miguel that started to think about how your lips would look around his cock, how they would stretch out due his thickness.

Needy Miguel that indulged better in that fantasy, imagining,the lingering stickiness of his previous load inside the toy, acting as if it was your saliva, how your tongue would lap over his tip to then take him fully.

Needy Miguel that started murmuring to himself praises he’d give to you as he saw you biting your lip on his screen while you payed attention to him on the meeting this morning.

“look at you princesa, taking me— so well”

Watching his cock disappear on the small hole of the toy picturing your stretching lips and how would you hallow your cheeks so suck him better

Needy Miguel that imagined how he’d take your head and bob it up and down his liking making you gag and plead silently for a breathing

“que bonita te ves, sucking my cock at work—-“

Needy Miguel that fastened his pace hips fully fucking the toy at the thought of how your warm throat would feel around him, when he’d fuck your mouth making tears roll down your cheeks, imagining how you’d drool for him.

“Coño cariño , keep on going, just like that”

Needy Miguel that kept on fantasising over you as he rolled his hips up sensually keeping himself on edge as his calls of your name resonated all over his office.

Needy Miguel that gasped for air as he felt his balls tightening making his eyes roll to the back of his head trying to suppress a moan biting his bottom lip and making a small cut to it with his fangs

Needy Miguel that looked down at his twitching member and how it spurt out ropes of cum all over his desk, as he stimulated it for a few more seconds before stopping

Needy Miguel who’s chest was lifting up and down uncontrollably and he let out a pathetic whine when he finally took his cock out of the pocket pussy to shove it back to the drawer.

Needy Miguel that started to feel the embarrassment of his actions and felt his anxiety creeping back up at him, but before he could close his eyes and lean back on his desk chair; saw a little white piece of paper shining on the back of the drawer

Needy Miguel who got confused when he saw a little note on the back of his desk drawer and his face turn white when he read that it was from you and quickly, went through his history of calls on his gizmo, noticing that as your note stated he had in fact called you in his alone time yesterday…

Needy Miguel that reached back down his crotch to feel his once again hardening cock to start to tug it again even though it hurt at this point by how hard he have been jerking off, reading the note over and over again, picturing your mischievous smile while you wrote it:

I enjoyed your call from last night…. I hope my little gift serves you better than your hand, that only until I get back to see you again ;)

Oh, you were a little brat…and he will show you the consequences of your little prank, but for now he’d probably just kept his office locked and forget about work for today due to his new entertainment source and your tease that will keep him hot and bothered.

Shock you’re gonna be the death of him

AN: Guys I gotta thank you for he overwhelming response to the first part of this thing!

It was supposed to be a one time dump of horny thoughts but I’m so grateful for y’all and hope you enjoyed this second one too!

Thanks again for the new 100 of y’all and over 1k numbers on the first part! 🫶🏼

PS: can’t stop imagining Miguel jerking off all day, god… so pathetic and hot 🥵

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fic Masterlist

[metalhoops]

The Five Times Eddie Wondered Who His Soulmate Was  and the One Time He Didn’t Have To

1. 

The worst thing about knowing your soulmate was in trouble was understanding there was nothing you could do about it. 

As a whole, Eddie thought the concept of soulmates was bullshit. He thought all that fate and destiny crap was a scam to sell the idea of monogamy or co-dependence. If people were too busy fretting over when they’d meet ‘their person’, they’d forget that actual shit was going on in the world. Who had the time to care about systemic oppression when they were busy trying to work out if the cute girl across the corridor was their one true love? 

That being said, sometimes Eddie got curious about who they were. Not many people found their soulmates. It wasn’t as obvious as you’d think. When they were in pain, you would feel it. Two people could live across the world from one another, feeling each scraped knee and broken wrist but never meet. Hell, you could live across the street from someone and unless you were there to watch them get hurt and feel the same old pang of shared pain, you’d never know. 

It wasn’t like Eddie had never felt his soulmate before that day. They’d twisted an ankle when Eddie was twelve and sprained a wrist when he was fourteen, but he’d felt no pain from them so strong as when he was sitting in detention during his junior year. 

He was counting down the minutes left until he could get out of the high school, hell hole when a sharp and sudden pain flooded his jaw. He gritted his teeth and cradled it with his palm, feeling as though the wind was knocked out of his body. Eddie knew what being punched in the face felt like, and that was it. Just when the ache started to fade, another thud of pain to his cheek made his vision swim. From there, Eddie held his breath, waiting for the pain to end. He rested his head on his desk and felt his heart in his throat as the blows kept coming. 

He missed Mrs Click telling him to go home, too busy gripping the desk for dear life, his fingernails digging into the poorly carved desk graffiti, slicing a line through ‘RB 4 TT.’ He was elated when the pain finally stopped. 

Eddie kept his head down the whole walk home, trying to tell himself soulmates were bullshit, and that he didn’t care about his, but his thoughts kept returning to visions of them. He hoped they were okay. 

Eddie never wanted to know who his soulmate was until that moment. They’d had a hell of a day and Eddie wanted to be there with them, tell them he knew what it was like. He wanted to hold their head in his lap and tell them everything was going to be okay, that if it were up to him, no one would hurt them like that again, but he couldn’t. For all he knew, they could be a hundred miles away. 

2.

The next time it happened, Eddie was at home alone in the trailer. Uncle Wayne was working a night shift, and he was watching a horror movie marathon on the T.V. It was shaping up to be a good night, with him curled up on the couch watching a schlocky creature feature when he felt all the air knocked out of his lungs. 

For a moment, he was worried something horrible was happening to him. When Jeff had appendicitis, he’d reported the same kind of pain. Eddie rolled up the hem of his shirt, watching a black-blue bruise bloom and fade in the span of a second. Sometimes, if the pain was great enough, you’d get what they called an ‘echo’ of the injury. It only lasted a moment, invisible ink fading on pale paper. 

The pain had been so strong that Eddie hadn’t been able to tell if it was theirs or his. From there, it got worse. He felt a sharp pang crash over his head, then another series of blows to the face. It was always the goddamn face.

When it was over, Eddie was left feeling lightheaded. The sensation faded quickly, but he knew his other half would be stuck with the ache for the rest of the night, if not longer. 

There was a lot of conjecture when it came to soulmates. It was hard to conduct scientific studies on something based entirely on sensation, and any research that had been done was less than ethical. All the same, for the rest of the night, Eddie curled his arms around himself, holding his body in the hopes his person could feel it, that he could give them some comfort. 

“I hope you’re okay,” he whispered, burrowing his face into the crook of his elbow. 

Back at school, Eddie floated through the halls feeling less than himself as thoughts of his person swirled. The school was abuzz with rumours of a fight between Billy Hargrove and the former king of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. Eddie couldn’t care less about some pissing contest for the highest rung on the social ladder, as he still felt the echoed ache of his soulmate’s pain throughout the day. 

He ditched gym, opting to hide beneath the bleachers and smoke. To his surprise, he wasn’t the only one with the idea. When he arrived, he found the overthrown king sitting cross-legged, cradling his still-bruised jaw. Eddie wasn’t a fan of the jocks, but they were the biggest contributor to his wallet, so he tried to play civil with them. Plus, Eddie wasn’t one to kick someone when they were down, and boy was Steve down. He sat beside the man, examined his face, and thought for a fleeting second. Maybe he was the one, but that was crazy talk. The Freak and the King. In what world? 

“You look like you’ve had better days,” Eddie noted. 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve replied. Eddie had a pit in his stomach. 

The two lapsed into silence, hiding out until the bell sounded for the end of gym. Eddie gave the boy a half-hearted salute as he stood.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie spoke before he left.

“You okay?”

Steve gave Eddie the ghost of a smile, all charm drowned out by Steve’s two black eyes. 

“I will be.” 

3.

Eddie had been worried about his soulmate before, but he’d never thought he’d lose them until the summer vacation after his failed attempt at senior year. He and the rest of Corroded Coffin had just finished their set at The Hideout. Eddie and the boys were carrying their instruments back to the van when the feeling hit. 

He fell to the asphalt. The whole scene sounded all the more dramatic as the hi-hat he’d been holding fell with him. He really wished his soulmate would learn to keep their head down and stay out of trouble because this was getting ridiculous. He got ready to hunker down and wait it out, having gotten morbidly used to their annual beatings. Only this time the pain didn’t stop. 

He was hit with wave after wave of agony. This time, it wasn’t just the face. He felt blows to his jaw, his stomach, and his side. He also felt a sharp spike of pain in his hand, as though someone was trying to peel his nails from his skin.

He could hear his friends around him, desperately trying to get something coherent out of Eddie, trying to work out if it was soulmate bullshit or if the guy was having an aneurysm. By the way he was acting, either seemed possible. When the pain subsided, Eddie felt foggy, like he was going through the worst goddamn high of his life. The neon signs of The Hideout and the street lamps danced before his eyes. Hundreds of little halos clouded his vision. He couldn’t think straight. 

He managed to prop himself up against the wheel of the van and pulled his knees to his chest. He knotted his hands in his long hair and tugged, trying to remind himself what his own pain felt like, though stopped when he realised he’d also be hurting them. That was the last thing they needed. 

“You okay?” He heard Gareth ask when the world came swimming back into focus. Eddie shook his head. Far from it.  

“Are they okay? Are they... alive?” Eddie hadn’t let himself entertain that idea until it was brought up. 

He felt the last flush of colour drain from his face. He could still feel them, but there was something wrong with the connection. Maybe he was dying. Eddie couldn’t help but think of his soulmate as ‘he’. He just knew. 

Eddie kept trying to tell himself he didn’t care about them, but the fact that he could die without Eddie ever having met him made his heart ache. People thought the reason you felt your person’s pain was to protect them, to know when something was wrong. Eddie had done a bang-up job at that. 

“For now, but it’s weird. I don’t... I don’t know how much longer-,” Eddie didn’t let himself finish. 

The rest of the band suddenly took on a sombre mood. Jeff and Grant finished packing up the van while Gareth offered to drive. The boys stayed at Eddie’s trailer for the rest of the night, holding their breaths and waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Eventually, Eddie dropped off to sleep and when he awoke hours later, he was relieved to realise he hurt all over. He was still alive, still waiting for Eddie to find him and god did Eddie want to. 

His uncle came home at the crack of dawn and let out an elongated sigh of relief at seeing Eddie and his band of merry men curled up together on the living room carpet. Wayne greeted Eddie with a tight hug that still hurt like hell.

“I was worried something happened to you,” His uncle stated in his gravelled tone.

“Why would something have happened to me?” Eddie asked, perplexed. 

“The mall burnt down last night. I was worried you were close by.” 

Eddie shook his head and let his uncle hold him as his mind ticked away. He wondered if it was possible his soulmate was in Hawkins. Eddie wasn’t sure he believed in coincidence.   

4.

Eddie started seeing spots during his lunchtime speech. By the end of his rant, the room had started to tilt. He felt unsure on his feet as he clambered from the top of the jock table to scamper back to the hellfire group. He must look worse for wear because he noticed one of his new recruits watching him.

“Eddie, you good?” Dustin questioned, sounding further away than he should. The lights in the cafeteria were too bright and his head was killing him. 

He felt close to throwing up and wondered where the pain had come from before realising the familiar distance from the sensation. It wasn’t his pain. Eddie didn’t want Henderson to butt into his love life any more than he already did, so he gave the kid a tight-lipped smile that more closely resembled a grimace. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this sensation from his soulmate, but they were growing more frequent.  

Again, sweetheart? Eddie thought, knowing it was the second migraine that week. 

“Migraine,” Eddie hissed through gritted teeth. He could feel his band members' eyes on him. They knew exactly who the ache belonged to. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin passed him a cool glass of water and barked orders at Mike, getting the kid to remove the ugly Hawaiian over shirt, before throwing it over Eddie’s head, blocking out the light. It wasn’t Eddie’s pain, so it didn’t help but he could appreciate the sentiment. 

“Did they teach you first aid at science camp, Henderson?” Eddie guessed offhandedly. 

“Nah. Steve gets migraines all the time. Helps to know how to deal with them.”

Eddie would never understand how a kid like Dustin came to know Steve Harrington, let alone worship the ground the guy walked on. Usually, Dustin had such good taste.  

“Eddie’s soulmate gets them too,” Gareth spoke unhelpfully. 

Even without looking, Eddie knew he was shooting him a shit-eating grin, knowing the rest of the afternoon Henderson would ask him about his soulmate. Just because the kid found Suzie, he thought the whole world deserved to find their one true love. Instead, Dustin came out with the most bullshit statement Eddie had ever heard. 

“Maybe Steve’s your soulmate.” 

Yeah, right. On what planet would that happen? 

5.

With everything that had happened to Eddie in the past few days, he hadn’t had time to think about his soulmate. He’d watched Chrissy die before his eyes, learnt the existence of another dimension and was walking through said dimension after witnessing Steve Harrington take a bite out of a demon bat’s tail. It’d been a weird ass day.  

He wished he’d been like Robin and Nancy, able to jump in and rescue Steve on a whim, but as Steve disappeared beneath the black water of Lover’s Lake, he’d felt his throat close and his lungs ache for air. It wasn’t a good time for a panic attack. Nevertheless, he’d managed to get his ass in gear and follow the rest of the group down into Watergate. 

He’d dropped back to walk with Steve and found himself complimenting the man. Steve was nothing like he imagined. He was not only kind, but as Dustin had put it, a total badass. 

Once the adrenaline faded, Eddie found himself lifting the hem of his shirt, examining his side. He felt a dull throb of pain. It’d be his luck to bleed out without noticing, but he found there was nothing there. 

“You good?” Steve asked.

Eddie couldn’t help but let his gaze settle on Steve’s bleeding side. He held his breath. He thought about pushing his hand against Steve’s wound, hurting him more just to check, but Eddie couldn’t hurt Steve. Not now. Especially if he was who Eddie thought he might be. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?” Eddie asked, gesturing to Steve’s side. The boy nodded.

“I’m fine, just a scratch. Can hardly feel a thing.” 

If Steve was his soulmate, he was full of shit. If Steve was his soulmate when everything blew over, they had a few things to talk about.

+1

Something was very wrong. Vecna was going down in a blaze of flame when Steve’s body started to ache. He felt the familiar sting of interdimensional bat fangs digging into dermis flesh. Robin and Nancy were cheering, wrapping their arms around Steve, whooping, hollering and panting while Steve was busy feeling like he was being torn apart. 

He was pulling away from the girls and turning on his heels before he had the chance to explain, running from the Creel House to the trailer park as fast as his feet could carry him. There was only one person this pain could belong to. 

Steve had spent his whole life searching for his soulmate, desperate to know who they were, and he’d been under his nose the whole time. The fact that Steve’s soulmate was a boy hadn’t surprised him as much as it should. That’d been a crisis bubbling away in the background of his brain since he’d gone to his first swim meet. He’d seen a boy in tight swim trunks, with tan skin and felt the familiar heart-pounding, crush he’d experienced on pretty girls he’d passed in the school hallways. 

By the time he got to Eddie, he’d hardly been able to fight through the pain surging through their connection. Dustin was wailing, holding Eddie in the wake of a bat graveyard. He looked up in alarm at Steve’s figure, noticing his pale skin and sweat-slicked brow. 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s weak voice came from Dustin’s lap. 

Steve was busy removing his clothes, trying to stop the bleeding. Dustin didn’t need to show him where the man was hurt, he could feel it. 

“I really must have got some brownie points in the end,” Eddie murmured. 

Both boys hissed as Steve shoved his shirt into a wound at Eddie’s side. That was when Dustin appeared to catch on, his eyes swelling wide as they darted between the two boys. 

“What’re you talking about, Munson?” Steve asked, trying to keep the guy talking. 

“Must’ve got into heaven after all,” He hummed, his deep brown eyes gazing beyond Steve at the distant red sky. 

“Hey. No. None of that. You aren’t in heaven because you’re not dying,” Steve hissed, using what little strength he had left to lift Eddie’s body. 

“Gotta be in heaven, if you’re here,” Eddie spoke, giving Steve a lopsided grin. Steve felt Eddie’s pain beginning to fade and panicked, not ready to let things end before they’d even had the chance to begin. 

He hoisted Eddie up through the portal and waited to do the same with Dustin. It wasn’t long before the distant sound of sirens once more surrounded the Munson trailer and Steve found himself passing out from the pain as red-blue lights swallowed the world whole. 

Eddie woke in pain, his whole body humming with a familiar dull ache that was unarguably his. It took time for him to make sense of the scene. He was in the hospital. Steve was slumped over at the far edge of the room, sleeping in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his head thrown back and his mouth agape. Eddie’s eyes trailed to his bedside, where he met Dustin’s. 

“Holy shit, you’re awake,” the boy gasped, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. 

Eddie cringed as he felt a rush of pain swarm through his body. He must have gasped, because Steve sprung to life, waking with a start as his eyes trailed from Dustin to Eddie. Steve’s eyes were a storm of quiet conflict, punctuated by deep purple bruises. 

“Eddie,” Steve breathed, standing to hover beside the bed, unsure of what to do next. 

He was surprised Steve was there at all. He wouldn’t say the two were close. Though Steve had probably found some way of twisting Eddie getting hurt into some fault of his, ever the damn hero. 

“Thought I was a goner for a second there,” Eddie admitted, trying to shake some of the strange tension from the room.

“If Steve hadn’t gotten there in time, you would’ve been,” Dustin spoke. Eddie watched as the boy’s hands trembled. He leaned over, fighting through the pain to ruffle the kid’s hair. Steve’s shoulders hunched over, doubling into himself. 

“I’ll get the nurse. Your uncle left for his nightshift, but he should be back in a few,” Dustin muttered as he made a beeline for the exit. It seemed strange the boy was extracting himself from the scene.

Henderson called over his shoulder. “I told you so.” 

And just like that, Eddie knew. 

He looked up at Steve with wide-eyed alarm, only to find his look mirrored.

“How’d you know we were in trouble?” Eddie asked, though thought he knew the answer. 

“After we killed Vecna, I felt... I could feel you. I knew you were hurt,” Steve explained. 

“How’d you know it was me?” Eddie pushed.

“Thought it was too much of a coincidence that it felt like my soulmate was getting eaten alive by giant bats. I’d call it an educated guess.” 

Eddie gritted his teeth and nodded. Surely, as far as soulmates went, he hadn’t been what Steve imagined. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, surprising Eddie. 

“For what?”

“Not being the person you wanted me to be, I guess,” Steve spoke so candidly, it made pain and panic swell in his throat. How could Steve think Eddie was disappointed that he was his soulmate?

“I’m not disappointed, Stevie. Why would I be disappointed?” 

“You had to have known,” Steve reasoned. 

Eddie didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but it sounded like Steve had been overthinking every second of it. 

“You give me more credit than I deserve. I didn’t know it was you, sweetheart. Cross my heart,” Eddie admitted, surprised at how quickly the term of endearment he’d used for his soulmate slipped off his tongue when talking to Steve. 

He hadn’t worked out shit. He’d had hunches, as though his heart knew, but the logical part of his brain kept overriding it. In what world were he and Steve perfect for each other?

Eddie threw caution to the wind as he saw the genuine look of affection and excitement painting its way across Steve’s face. He looked hopeful. Eddie cringed, sitting up and trying to lean closer to Steve.

“Come here before I hurt the both of us,” Eddie grumbled.

Steve shuffled closer to Eddie’s bed, crouching down, so the two were at eye level. Eddie wanted to kiss the boy so damn bad, and Steve was sending him all the signs that he should, but there was something he had to do first. He took Steve’s face between his hands, running a thumb over the purple bruises beneath his eyes.

“No more playing hero, okay?” 

Steve nudged his face into the palm of Eddie’s hand and nodded, letting out a weak chuckle. 

“I think I can agree to that.” 

Eddie crushed their lips together and despite the pain, it felt like everything was right in the world. 

[merakiui]

eden.

yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, non-con, captivity, obsession, menophilia/period sex, vague references to the story of adam & eve note - a self-indulgent paradise crafted by rollo's generous, gracious hand.

Silvery slivers of moonlight spill through the space in the curtains, illuminating the fluffy sheets you’re currently entangled in. A sharp sting in your abdomen rouses you from your dreamless slumber, so agonizing it causes you to slowly curl in on yourself. Miserable and defeated, you groan and bury your face in the neighboring pillow. Now muffled, the sound can only carry on for however much capacity your lungs possess. It eventually fizzles out into a solemn, silent resignation that forces you to accept the third day of the monthly curse that is the menstrual cycle.

It’s a natural facet of your biology, but that doesn’t stop you from moping when you register the slick sensation between your legs.

This wouldn’t be an issue if he got me pads or tampons, you think, bitter with resentment and worn to exhaustion even though you’ve only just woken.

Awkwardly, you attempt to sit up and pull the covers back to check the damage. Rollo’s sheets are always spotless and fresh; he washes them every two weeks on Sunday afternoons, dedicated to following his schedule down to the letter. But then the pain persists, stabbing through to your very organs, and you resume your pitiful fetal position in hopes that the severity may abate.

It does, but you think you’re just tricking yourself into believing so.

You can feel the blood soaking through your white nightgown, and the sodden fabric molds itself to your rear in a very unpleasant way. Shuddering, you blink back tears.

I wanna go home.

Home, as it happens, has felt less and less temporary with each passing month spent in Twisted Wonderland. You’ve come to associate the familiarity of Night Raven College and its student body with comfort and contentment. It’s your home away from home. A long, long way from home. But it’s all you’ve ever had since the Dark Mirror beckoned you forth, and it’s served as your solace for a while.

Initially, you felt trapped and alone, uncertain of your fate and what this could mean for your life. But now you realize that no amount of feeling stuck at school could ever compare to this—to real confinement.

Your capture and, subsequently, your captor’s inexplicable infatuation are the result of arbitrary observation. In his frigid, heavy-eyed stare, you fit the criteria for a definition of purity he has constructed for his own abstract conduct. Untouched by magic, unable to conjure even the simplest spell, you are the speck of hope within Pandora’s box—a blessing enshrouded in sin.

“It must be taxing to live amongst mages so often,” he had said, as if to extend sympathy.

Foolishly, not quite understanding where those words were coming from, you replied in jest, “Believe me, it is. The amount of times I’ve nearly been caught in the crossfire when my friends get into heated arguments… Yikes.”

Rollo Flamme is a righteous man, and thus it is his duty to build a pristine paradise for you. An Eden of his own creation, its sole purpose to safeguard you from the pollution that is magic and, by extension, mages.

But purity cannot be found here, for Rollo is a devil in this garden. Potted plants adorn the floor; it’s something of a floral jungle, filling the room with perfumed scents and pretty sights. You’ve made note of their habits—of every flower that wilts and rises once it’s watered, of every petal that pries itself open under the moon’s glow and closes come sunrise, of every stem that’s trimmed to prevent excess.

Rollo Flamme prefers tidy spaces, so this well-kept garden is sterile and peaceful. You’ve likened it to a morgue filled with dead things—or soon-to-be dead things, as most plants cannot thrive forever no matter how diligent the botanist.

He barked a humorless, monosyllabic laugh at your declaration. “Unless you’ve chosen to view yourself as a rotting corpse, which you are not, your comparison is both unwarranted and untrue,” he muttered, and that was the final utterance of that subject.

Conversations with Rollo are always impossible, which is why you’re dreading this next one when he turns the key in the lock. The sound is like a gunshot in an empty room: explosive. As if echoing your discomfort, your cramps worsen in their intensity and you suck in a shaky breath through grit teeth. You hear the door shut and lock, sentencing you to an exchange with an unwanted warden. He walks into a mostly serene scene, his glacial gaze sweeping across the room to pick apart any interruptions in this slice of Shangri-La.

“I’ve brought dinner,” he announces, and you lift your head to peer at the tray in his hands.

“I don’t want your grapes and croissants,” you spit. “I want something warm.”

“It is warm.” Stepping closer, he sets the tray on his desk. You spy wispy tendrils rising from a bowl of soup. “Sit up and eat before it goes cold.”

You attempt that, halfway up on your elbows, but then your abdomen tightens and you slump back into the sheets. “Hurts,” you whine, clutching your stomach.

Rollo sniffs at the air, brows furrowing. His shoes click out an even rhythm against the floorboards, stopping at your bedside. Without ceremony he yanks the duvet away and you hiss at him, humiliated even though it’s normal. Your skin prickles with a chill, and it’s made even worse when you see the fiery glint in his eyes—the perceptive sort of glaze that overtakes his pupils when he’s observing you. His eyes crawl down your figure, stopping at the stain sullying your satin nightgown.

“Ah, you’ve leaked.”

“Obviously,” you snap. “I did this yesterday, too. When are you going to get me pads? Or tampons? I’ll even take a towel at this point or toilet paper. Anything is better than this.”

Rollo shakes his head. “You’re perfectly fine as you are.”

“Free bleeding like this is filthy and unsanitary.”

“So I’ll simply clean you.”

You drag your hand down your face and groan. “Rollo, please. It hurts, and it’s wet and uncomfortable.”

“You’ve illustrated these points more than clearly.”

“So then… Then do something about it!”

He narrows his eyes at you, silently taking issue with your demand, before he hums his consideration. His face settles into something neutral while he removes his hat and shoes, dutifully setting them in their respective places.

Rollo surprises you when he climbs onto the bed, kneeling over you with the tiniest trace of a smile.

“Spread your legs. I’ll have a look.”

Fresh horror blooms on your already distraught countenance. You bickered with him over this yesterday when he’d brought a wet rag to your inner thigh, seething at you to stay still while he wiped you down. You’d wrestled with him for ownership of the rag, insisting in panicked huffs that you could do it yourself. Your slap had rung out in the silence, rendering Rollo stiff with stormy emotions. He’d relinquished the rag, scoffing at you for being ungrateful and resolving to scribble in his diary for the rest of the day—a prisoner to his own silent treatment.

Now, as his cold fingertips creep up your legs, you feel less hungry and more sick.

Weakly, you shake your head at him, sinking deeper into the pillows. “I… I can do it myself…”

“With what? The nightgown you’ve already dirtied?” He tilts his head at you and smiles an odd smile. You can’t place it, whether it’s smug or sweet, but it soon becomes the former when he throws your words right back at you: “That’s filthy and unsanitary.”

“You don’t have anything either,” you retort, only to grimace once more.

Rollo exhales through his nose, amusement flashing in his dreary eyes. “Because I’m not going to clean you. Not yet.”

Ice crystalizes within your veins, and the tension in your legs slackens enough for him to pull them apart. “What?”

His hands stray dangerously close. You stiffen, nerves tangling with panic. “There are ways to alleviate menstrual cramps. You should be aware of them, so I see no need to go into detail.”

“I know, yes, but—” You swallow thickly and push his reaching fingers away before they can curl around the hem of your nightgown. “Rollo, please don’t…”

“You’ll feel better,” he assures you matter-of-factly, whispering the words like that will change anything. “This is better than medicine and safer than magic.”

You shift beneath him, unsettled. “A… A hot compress will do. Y-You’ll get yourself dirty. Also! A-Also… If we don’t wash the sheets soon, it’ll stain.”

“Let it. It will serve as a reminder to both of us. A reminder that, though you may ruin these sheets with all manner of bodily fluids, they will still remain pure.” He lifts your nightgown, leaning close to your ear while palming at your stomach. You angle yourself away from him, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s because you’re perfect and clean, untainted by magic, that you are able to exist here. I envy you…”

His bare hand is cold against your warm belly and it travels lower, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties. You stifle a whine, tears welling up behind your eyelids.

“Rollo…”

“Even your voice…” He inhales deeply, high off the scent of you—metallic and pungent, a natural musk more enticing than any flowery perfume. “Everything about you is so clean, even the very blood that pools between your legs… Just a moment in your embrace is enough to wash away the layers of filth that accumulate on my person. Perhaps you might even manage to scrub beneath my skin, wash out every ounce of magic that rests within… Would that I could, I’d break myself into pieces so that you may reassemble me—build a better me. A me without magic. If only…”

His other hand slithers into yours, squeezing tight. You’re arrested by the strain in his tone when he speaks next, so full of yearning and desperation. Covetous. Shameless.

“If only.”

“R-Rollo, please stop…”

“Yes… Yes, of course,” he babbles, nodding to himself. “I’ve likened you to a concept—to purity alone—but you are more than that. The embodiment of it… An angel. Otherworldly, immune to the poisonous effects of magic… Yes, that is what you are. An angel bereft of flaws.”

He fishes his celestial-patterned handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to your lips next. Your eyes snap open to find him now much closer than before, and you have but a moment to brace yourself before he leans in. The kiss is indirect, the both of you separated by the cloth, but the intention is there. It sticks to you even after he’s lowered the handkerchief. You are too pure and he is too filthy, which is why your lips must never touch.

Contradictory because he’s kissed you before.

Rollo drags your blood-soaked panties down to your knees. You shudder like a frail leaf caught in autumn’s harsh breeze.

“I’ve saved you—freed you!—from those…those villains. So you must allow me to indulge.” He shakes his head, his licentious, lustful stare smoldering to such a scorching degree it brands impure, unhealthy love upon your bare flesh. “I will indulge because I have been nothing but agreeable. This—” his fingers brush your slick folds, testing the waters— “is a wonder no magic could ever hope to reproduce. This is just you. Perfect, pretty, pure you…”

Experimentally, his digits dip shallowly inside. You flinch and inhale a sharp, frantic breath, your stomach somersaulting and knotting itself all at once. Complicated feelings stir within you as you writhe under his invasive touch. Your effort to escape is halfhearted; it’s too painful to move, so instead you attempt to clamp your legs shut. He tuts at you and slips his hand out from your hold to pet along your thigh.

“There goes a certain tale,” Rollo says, breathless as he continues his patient exploration. His eyes rove over your pussy like he intends to imprint it in his memory, and he doesn’t shy away from the crimson rivulet that runs down his palm when he sinks his fingers in further. You grit your teeth, melting against the pillows like an angel stamped in snow, and your free hand strangles a fistful of sheets. “In which a pair lived together in paradise, but it was temptation that ultimately led to their downfall. It is a doomed narrative.”

You’re breathing heavily now, your eyes flicking from the ceiling to the many plants that surround you on all sides, each one in full bloom. It feels as if you’re on a bed-turned-boat in a sea of greenery.

A sea of divine fertility.

With a skillful curl the two fingers delve deeper, pressing up against your gummy walls. Against your better judgment, you whine, loud and bawdy. His touch soothes, but then it stings. It makes you want to peel yourself open and step out of your skin so that you may subject it to a vigorous washing. It makes you despise the scent of flowers. It makes you fear the sound of the bell as it tolls unfailingly every single day. It makes you wish you’d never opened your mouth to respond to his words all those weeks ago.

Tears slip from your lash line. “Stop… Please stop…”

“Perhaps this is that same story made modern. Perhaps you were sculpted specially for me and I for you.” A third finger joins the other two working you open. Paper-pale skin is coated in brilliant vermillion, the very color of ardent desire. “Perhaps we are destined to fall together, born anew in someplace purer…”

The slow, steady drag of his fingers is more tempting than the ripe redness between your thighs, and you force yourself to gaze sidelong at the soup sitting abandoned on his desk. He plucks at each of your tangled, dewy strings, unraveling them with graceful strokes, and you’re pulled along on the blissfully uncomfortable current, treading between someplace grounded in reality and fantasy.

From above, at the bird’s eye view, you have become a garden for Rollo’s twisted whimsy.

You return to yourself when he eases his fingers out, stalling for a silent beat, before he thrusts them back in in one fluid motion. It punches the air from your lungs, has you throwing your head back with a weepy howl. He watches this with fierce scrutiny, curious at a clinical level.

“You’re beautiful,” he admits, spreading his fingers inside you. “My world. My panacea. My angel.”

“No… No, no.” You sob, your chest heaving with every wail. You can smell yourself on the air, the sharp scents of iron and sweat. Your pussy weeps blood, devastated at the hands of a monster, and yet it can’t stop affixing itself to him. A mold meant to suit his design. “Please… Please take it out.”

A shadow of contemplation passes over Rollo’s flushed countenance and then he’s reaching over to dry your tears, dabbing at your face with his handkerchief. “You’re okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore, right?”

You shake your head in protest rather than respond, chewing your bottom lip to shreds. A feeble whine slips through and you arch into him when his thumb presses down into your clit and prods at your hood. It happens all too fast. You tighten and loosen all at once, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back. The sheets are soaked through and properly soiled now, but that fact doesn’t lessen the seismic ecstasy that drapes itself over you like a veil. Your vision whites out and you fall, fall, fall through the waning vestiges.

Your heart drops into your stomach at the realization.

It doesn’t hurt anymore.

“You’ve done well.” He slides his fingers out, and the gooey squelching wrings a shudder from you. This time he grants you one of his rare smiles—the authentic, sincere kind—while he presses the pads of his fingers to his upturned lips, dyeing himself in your essence. You blink through encroaching tears, an ocean that obscures your vision and fuzzies his figure.

His fingers dig into the plush pudge of your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles along your adductors. You open yourself again, involuntarily blossoming in this garden of iniquity.

“Good,” he praises again, whisper-soft. “You’re only permitted to be this way with me. Anyone else would simply tarnish your sweetness. They’d take advantage of your ability to cleanse even the foulest of filth. But I…”

Rollo, still clothed and now libidinous in his impatience, fumbles to pull himself free. His throbbing erection presses against your stomach, the final piece to force this puzzle to completion.

“I will always lay myself at your altar.”

You beg him not to, but every objection goes unheard. His hips connect with yours; he’s holding back, if only just barely, pressing onwards slowly, his breath coming in huffs and grunts. To savor it. To know the feeling firsthand and engrave it into his very being, from his fingers to his toes. To immerse himself in the red rain of a shackled angel.

To color a picturesque paradise in cardinal sin.

Just beyond the windows of Eden, swathed in midnight luminescence, a glorious city set aflame burns bright, overtaken by fiery flowers.

[echoingspectrum]

𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝐶𝑜𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡: 𝑦𝑒𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑒 ( 𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 )

As the head alchemist of the Alchemy Commission, it is your responsibility to oversee all alchemical experiments and research conducted by the commission. This includes ensuring the safety protocols are followed, analyzing the results of experiments, and providing guidance to other alchemists. 

In addition to that, you must also welcome your special guest with the utmost importance and provide for any of their needs, no matter how obscene their demand is. However, this rule only applies to one certain individual who happens to visit your work very often.

"Stay silent." A gloved hand firmly pressed against your mouth, muffling any sound that threatened to escape. The intensity in his eyes made it clear that breaking the silence was not an option.

Not that you wanted to, but the thrill of getting caught is what fueled your adrenaline. The suspense hung in the air, making every second feel like an eternity as you wondered what would happen next.

"We wouldn't want anyone from the Alchemy Commission to see their precious head alchemist be seen as so obscene, do you~?" His voice oozed with a mix of menace and amusement, sending shivers down your spine.

You could only imagine the consequences if anyone discovered the head alchemist engaging in such forbidden activities. As you stared into his piercing eyes, you couldn't help but wonder how this would play out.

His hand slowly glides to your clothed breast, fondling it ever so gently, like he were holding a fragile piece of glass that is real and emanating comfort heat. As his other hand descends to your lower flower.

Fiddling with your bottoms till it dropped to the ground with a soft thud. Nimbling fingers went to the wet patch of your inner thighs, tracing delicate patterns that sent electric waves of pleasure through your body.

Muffled moans escaped your lips as he skillfully played with the base of your cunt. Giving your clit a squeeze and caress, he expertly applies just the right amount of pressure, causing a surge of intense pleasure to course through you. 

Your body trembles in response as his touch becomes more insistent and his fingers explore every inch of your sensitive folds. Each stroke sends you deeper into a state of bliss, leaving you craving more of his touch. 

Especially while wearing his gloves. The rough texture of the material adds an extra layer of sensation, intensifying every touch and stroke.

"Aeons, you're soaked. Have you actually been waiting for this?" he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

You blush, unable to deny the truth, as your body betrays you. Protesting won't help as your overwhelming desires accumulate. Your whole stature is trembling with anticipation, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. 

"F-Fuck!" You stumble back against his chest, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered words of desire. 

The anticipation builds as his hands continue their exploration, teasing and tantalizing every part of you. 

You can't help but arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him, yearning for the ultimate release that only he can provide. 

Teasing it forth and back till it slid inside of you with ease, as if your body complies naturally to his every command. When suddenly he thrust his fingers deeper, hitting that sweet spot that sends an electrifying sensation to your core over and over again before adding an additional digit to add even more pleasure. 

"I spend my entire morning in my chambers, only thinking of how your body molds against mine," Dan Feng confessed. Glancing at him, his draconic eyes burned with a mixture of desire and adoration. 

"You have bewitched me completely," he whispered, his voice husky with longing. 

You would've been replying back to him with the same amount of dulcet tones if it weren't for his digits plunging into your velvety cavern, causing you to gasp in pleasure. Your ears caught the sound of your insides squelch with drips of your juice slipping out to the ground. 

"D-Dan Feng⏤we shouldn't be doing this r-right now⏤ Ahh~" Your words faltered as you tried to resist the intoxicating pull between you, but the intense sensations overwhelmed your protests, concealed by the high elder's sudden passionate kiss that silenced any further objections. 

Your guys' tongues danced in a wild tango, exploring each other's mouths with fervor and hunger. The taste of him mingled with the sweet sounds of your moans, creating a symphony of desire that echoed through the space. 

Your legs are trembling, and your core is nearly bursting, thinking your sweet release is just within reach. The world around you fades away, as the only thing that matters is you and him. 

As if pressing against you, aching to be inside. The anticipation builds, fueling the fire of your desire even more. Every touch and every kiss brings you closer to the edge of ecstasy⏤

"H-Hey!" You both suddenly break apart, startled by the unexpected interruption. Your eyes widen as you look at the High Elder himself, looking smug and amused at your half-fucked state. 

His eyes were piercing through every inch of your features. The rich hue of redness painted your cheeks, your eyes heaved with desire and frustration that he could clearly see, and your wetness glazed the floor under you.

Disappointment and annoyance immediately went through your mind as you realized that the moment had been ruined. "W-Why did you⏤"

He shoved his gloved digits straight past your lips, which are coated with your sweet moisture. 

"Silent," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. 

The taste of your own arousal lingered on your tongue as you obediently closed your mouth but moved your tongue to clean off the excess of your wetness from his fingers. The interruption left you frustrated and curious about what he had in store for you next. 

"We'll be finishing this at my chambers. You can scream as loud as you wish."

[rinbowaman]

Bad Boy

Warnings: reader experiences sexual harassment/potential assault from an unnamed ex-bc, rough smut, smut with a stranger, implied creampie, breeding kink…

Who is the bad boy? 😏

She’s a good girl, crazy about Elvis. Loves horses, and her boyfriend too…

I’m a bad boy…for breaking her heart.

Tonight was the night when the major football game took place. It was a make it or break it moment for your college football team as the game would dictate and highlight the most select players to be drafted for professional football. You and your friends joined up and gathered around the best set of bleachers. You had to. Your boyfriend was the team's quarterback and you had to be in the front row to cheer him on.

Things had been edgy between you two. The ongoing arguments were likely a result of the stress of tonight’s game and finals combined. It was more arduous for him, as he was in his final year of college, whereas you had just barely begun. Still, the hardship of maintaining a relationship and your grades wasn’t easy, regardless that you were a newbie to campus.

The score was close, yet in the end, your boyfriends team emerged victorious and earned their way towards a bright future.

He drives you back to your dorm, where both your friends would meet up for some drinks, or so you thought.

“Let’s hang tight and have some one-on -one time after everyone leaves.” He tells you. You felt a bit uneasy, considering he was giving you that look when you both had barely spoken to each other.

Left alone with him on the bleachers, you started the conversation, trying to establish closure.

“Look, I’m sorry about the fights. I know we haven’t really spoken much, and only made up yesterday but I want you to know I am very proud of you.”

He looks over but doesn’t make any effort to converse back, instead he hums a hollow tune as he begins to pull the sleeves of your dress downward. “Wait! What are you—“

He doesn’t even make eye contact, instead he becomes rather forceful in all the wrong ways. “Come on you like it when I’m rough.”

You used to…

Back before the arguments, you used to dig the idea of your boyfriend tossing you around and going all in like a Viking while you took it. But this time was different, you didn’t really feel that strongly for him anymore. It was something you wanted to refrain from bringing up until later, but now seemed to be the time to let him know that…

“I think we should break up…”

“What?”

“I…I know about what you did with…with her.”

Yeah. Maintaining a relationship is hard when you’re studying and trying to earn top grades. But it’s a lot harder when rumors of your boyfriend's infidelity becomes a popularized topic among your peers. To make the wound deep was that it was with your best friend that he was conducting the affair with. Last night, you saw the photos on her phone after she passed out, and as angry as you were, you didn’t have the heart to force any type of drama until after the big game.

“Okay…so I slept with her a few times. But I promise it was only during your periods.”

You shot a scorned look. “I saw the dates in the pictures.” Hinting at the timeline not meeting up, he sighed as he continued while you did your best to shove him off.

“Stop…I said stop!”

You began shouting when suddenly, a popping sensation stung your cheek. You were shocked as you realized he had just slapped you, but it didn’t become reality until the tangy taste of blood dripped from your lip.

He pushes you down and takes advantage of your short floral dress, and positions himself in between your legs as he rushes to undo his belt. You yell out and flare a series of kicks as you try to get away, yet he overpowers your attempts as he pins his weight down on your body. Plastering the sides of your face with his kisses, you shove and sneered away as you continued with your attempts, though it was all futile. Exhaustion begins to take over and you sense the horrifying loss as you feel the tip of his member poking your inner thigh as he tears your panties.

Suddenly…

“What the—“

The weight of his frame is lifted so abruptly off you as you face forward and gain a clear vision of what was going on.

“Get the fuck ou—“

The sound of your boyfriend's voice is halted still and shut as you hear the audio smack of knuckle meeting his jaw, or perhaps it was his cheek. It happened so fast that you couldn’t make out the difference, all you know was that you saw the one that conducted the deed.

Flinging him off as if your boyfriend was a ragdoll, you watched as the strong arms of your savior become tender as he leans forward and kneels, presenting you a hand. He doesn’t say a word, instead he nods as he implies for you to take it. He pulls you back up on your own two feet, and rushes you under his arm while he takes you back to his car nearby. The slight bit of cigarette smoke and the musk of his cologne mixed together impaled your nostrils as he opened the door and tucks you in the front passenger seat.

You recognized him. He was in the same year as your boyfriend…or former boyfriend actually. He was somewhat of an outcast, not one that you ever really conversed with though you normally spotted him hanging out at the bleachers smoking and joking with his equally delinquent friends. Dressed in jeans, a fitted tee with a flannel over shirt left unbuttoned, it was obvious that he wasn’t dressing to impress anyone.

He starts the old steel vehicle and drives off. Once he hit the main road, he finally spoke.

“Where’s your dorm? I’ll take you there.”

You shook your head as you started to sob once more, only quietly this time. Fingering the shredded tatters of your dress, you hang your head low as the silky strands drape over, hiding your face. “Please…just take me to the airport. I can’t be here….everyone is at my dorm and I don’t want to see anyone…I just want to go back to my home.”

He doesn’t say a word. The sound of the steering wheel turning left, then right, was all the noise that filled the entire car ride until finally he puts it in park.

He really took you to the airport?

“Come on.” He sighs as he hops out and opens the door for you.

“This…where are we?”

“We’re in my frat home.”

“F-frat? You’re a part of a fraternity?” Your surprised tone causes him to smirk as he walks you to the front door. “Yeah, I know.” He nods, already aware of the presumptive appeal that is otherwise an irony. “I’m a bad boy, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

You’re not sure what made you even more confused, the fact that the college delinquent belonged to a frat or that he actually earned decent grades and was a promising student.

He walks you to his room quietly as he fixes the bed. “You sleep here.” Grabbing onto a spare comforter, he makes his own little nest on the small loveseat on the opposite end. You felt so humbled at the fact that the man was willing to lend you his bed while he prepared to sleep on such a small couch, considering his height and stature.

“Thank you…but I really don’t want to inconvenience you. I feel a lot better now, I think I should leave you alone. I don’t want to be trouble and get you involved—“

“I want to be involved.” His tone was deep and somewhat hoarse as he smiles, switching his gaze down to the floor before making their way back to you. “I’ve been wanting to get involved ever since I first saw you at the bleachers…when you came for orientation.”

His confession made your heart melt as you raised your eyebrows with peak interest. “Y-you did?”

He nods. It never occurred to you that you would catch the eye of a delinquent, just like you never realized that closeup, the man was actually quite handsome.

His lengthy strands delicately framed his brows as he steps closer.

“I…” he begins before taking a slight pause. “I can turn your night around…and do it the right way, unlike that scumbag.” He proposes.

At any other given time, you’re quite sure you would have rejected, regardless how dashing he may have appeared. But with the way he came to your aid and was presenting you the opportunity to consent, your heart faltered. “…show me.” You whispered.

He softly rubs your cheek as he swipes the dried blood from your lip. “It’s going to hurt…and I’m going to fuck you hard…remember, I’m a bad boy. There are no…safe…words…y/n.”

He knew your name.

You felt the tingle ringing in between your legs as he outlined the aggression of his passion and proposal. To hell with soft sex anyhow, you wanted it.

“Please…show me. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. Just turn this night around.”

He smiles. “Good girl.”

He pulls you in as his strong hands colored your entire body. Finishing what that bastard tried to do earlier, the man before you was a true man as he tore off your dress, but never lost the velocity of his tenderness and passion.

He sucks on your neck as he takes a fistful of your hair and aggressively pulls your head back, only to balance the moment out with him tenderly licking the bite wound. Reaching down, he inserts two of his fingers. They were cold and sharp with the way he injects them, yet immediately warmed up as your walls soothed the shocking temperature and created a beautiful sensation. His coarseness with your silky flesh, mending together as he thrusts his hooks in and out, starting off slow and steady, gradually increasing in tempo.

“Oh….oh my God!….”

“Tell me how good it feels baby…” he whispers as he nibbles on your lobe.

“Mmmph!” You bite down on your lip as you hang on by the clinging grip of his muscular biceps. Lifting your leg, you hook it around his waist as you yearn for more, in which he gladly obliged.

He looped his free hand under your kneecap and propelled you up and back as he slams your body on the bed. He coats your entire body with kisses as his fingers continue to thrive in and out of your womanhood. Finally, he releases his internal hold on you and presents his flick digits to your lips. You took the hint and licked the glistening coating off, until he shoved them into your mouth altogether, inheriting a whole new line of moans from your throat.

The sound of his jeans coming undone slightly echoed as he buries his face into your neck, mumbling against your skin while he tells you how beautiful and delectable you appear underneath him. With the tip of his nose pressed against your cheek, and his lips plastered against yours, he smiles. The stretch of his grin could be felt against your cherry stained pout, igniting a gasp as you felt yourself gush in front of him.

He takes the bold tip of his cock and slowly slides it in. “Ah! Y-you’re too big!”

“Fuck yeah I am.” He whispers rather ferociously as he continues to go in deeper…and deeper.

“I told you…I’m a bad boy…a big…bad…boy.” He grunts in between his words as he presses forward, burying his thunderous rod deep into your walls.

He settled once he was all the way in. “Ready to get fucked girly?”

You eagerly nod as you catch your breath, or try to. The moment he garnished your final consent of the evening, you were down for.

He draws out his length, slowly. As soon as you feel he is about to fully exit, he rams it all back in. Each of his inches swarms back into the cavity, but it didn’t stop there. Pumping it vigorously, he maintains a solid pace as he reaches further and deeper into you. What was this feeling? This sensation? It was mind blowing. Compared to all the instances when you engaged in sexual contact with your ex, none of them had ever amounted to the rage this man was taking out on you. He was massive, rough, hard, but also soft and tender. He was both black and white, your Heaven and Hell. He was…he was….

“I-I…I can’t breathe! Oh God! Please don’t stop fucking me!”

He continues to pump his shaft harshly and tenderly as he stilts himself on his kneecaps and rubs his thumb on your clitoris. In circulation motion, he gives the external stimulation of pleasure to pair with the drumming throb you felt inside.

“That’s it girly, let me fuck you real good. You’re doing so well, you know that?”

His stiff member thrusts in and out repeatedly. His testicular sacks slap into you, staining the under skin of your vaginal opening bright red as he jams into you. Your body absorbs the impact and shifts around. Like a ragdoll, you felt yourself being tossed by the momentum of his thrusts as your body went left, then right, only for him to grab you by the arms, pinning them to your sides as he straightened you back to center and never breaking the pace.

“Na-uh. Gotta stay still for me baby, we’re going to do this the right way…me and you.”

Your eyes remained squinted shut at the immense pleasure that rampaged in between your legs, yet the vagueness of his words caused you to reach for clarification. “The r-right way? Uh!” You gasped out as you felt the pinch of lightning pleasure the moment he flexed inside you.

“Yeah baby…the right way. Gonna turn us into parents—ah! Fuck!…gonna make you mine forever. Whadya say?”

It was careless, risky, and completely irresponsible…but it made it even more dangerously sinful and absolutely pleasurable. At that moment in time, you didn’t care about anything or anyone, you wanted him. All of him.

He pumps faster and harder, causing your breaths to shorten as you gasp for air while moaning your heart out. “Oh my God!”

“Fuck yeah baby.” He gasps as his rhythm increases. The shortness of his breath indicates he was close as his abdominal region moves at an awesome speed, back and forth as he pummeled into you wildly. Sensing that you were close as the squelching grew louder, he bids you to come undone as the knot snaps in your lower gut.

“Cum on it. I want you to cum on me baby.”

You released and let it all go as you felt loss of control in your body. The shakiness lasted for an eternity as you grabbed your own breasts and gripped onto his forearm for dear life.

“Fuck, make me cum baby.” He grits as he plunges one last time, deeper into you than before. A second later you feel the warmth of his seed staining your walls as he collapses against your frame, declaring his honest love as he decorates your face with small kisses. “Stay with me baby. I’ll never let anything happen to you, let me take care of you and be the one.”

It was like cupid’s arrow struck gold. A product of love and passion emerged as you wrap your arms around his neck and pulled him in. Here all along you thought the night was going to end terribly when your ex didn’t take your breakup well, only for it to end blissfully as your savior became the one to do the unexpected. Kissing him, you released as it occurred to you…

“I don’t even know your name…” your voice trembling as you recover your composure from the exploding shot of pleasure that still rhymed within your womanhood, even after he stopped and rested inside.

Riddling a tune, he softly says his name into your ear. His voice came out almost haunting in the most delightful sense as each letter tickled your canal. It was foreign and he exotic, and he knew how to get you to speak it aloud.

“Say it with me baby, S-u-n-ghoon.”

“Sunghoon?”

He paused as he bites his lip. “Oh fuck baby…when you say my name….it just….come here now.”

You feel yourself being dragged down towards him as he plasters baby kisses on your inner thigh. Through the overstimulation that robbed you of your other senses, you allowed him to continue. You would have been a fool to stop him, after all, it was a perfect night to make up for lost time, considering you spent all your life with the good boys. Now that you got a taste of you bad boy, you’re not sure if you ever want to be good again. It’s better to be bad.

[willowbelle]

A Welcomed Trespass

❤︎ trafalgar law x fem reader ❤︎

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

cw: established relationship, masturbation (law), unsuccessful edging, voyeurism (reader watches)

summary: law is pent up and frustrated (ofc), law masturbates, law fails to edge himself (lol), reader catches him, and all that comes with that ♡︎

word count: ~1,200

tagging: @bby-deerling @risenwrites @strawheart-pirate @uchihabbynic @nina-ya

A Welcomed Trespass

Law was frustrated. 

Understandably so; the man was overworked, and his methods of relaxation were unorthodox in every conceivable way. 

It wasn’t uncommon for him to constantly dance the line between standing confidently on his own two feet, and collapsing from pure exhaustion; no grey area, no inbetween. 

And so, tonight, he found himself stiff. 

In more ways than one. 

He ached, and fatigue tickled his skin, but even still, he couldn’t ignore the unbearably tight constraints of his jeans around his throbbing crotch, silently begging him to surrender to his desires. 

You had been gone for a few hours now, working on a few tasks outside the sub with your fellow crewmates. 

Although it hadn’t been long, your absence took quite the toll on your agitated captain. 

He yearned for your presence; in his lap, your fingers in his hair, tongue dancing with his, that sweet cunt gripping him so needily like it always did. 

Law seldom surrendered to the allure of fervid desires like these, but tonight, he let his yearning take the reins. 

With lust at the forefront of his brain, entrapped by the sway of impulse, he begins. 

He scoots back in his desk chair, taking a quick glance up at the digital clock that hung on his wall. 

Plenty of time.

He struggles with his belt, desperate to release his aching cock from the confines of his tight jeans. 

“Damn,” he grumbles, finally removing his belt and tossing it on the floor.

Usually, the clutter would unsettle his obsessive, rigid mind, but right now, he was focused on one thing and one thing alone; undisturbed by anything that didn’t have to do with the urgent aching of his cock. 

He fumbles with his button and zipper, shimmying out of his jeans and letting them pool at his feet. 

He experimentally grazes his palm over his clothed cock, hissing at the feeling of the long-awaited sensation. 

“Fuck,” he rasps out, not missing the way precum seeped through the fabric of his boxers. 

He finally frees himself completely, pulling his boxers down to rest on his thighs, instantly bringing a tatted hand up to grip his twitching cock. 

He groans at the feeling of warmth enveloping him, and although it didn’t compare in the slightest to that divine pussy of yours, it would have to do for now. 

He leans forward to open his desk drawer, silently cursing to himself as he sifted through the clutter to find his lubricant. It had been quite some time since he’d done this. 

And finally, he’s rewarded, pumping a bit of lotion into his dominant hand before returning it to its place on his member. 

He lets his head fall back, letting out a deep sigh as he closes his eyes and begins pumping. 

Law always navigated reality with a skeptical, practical lens, but in your absence, he needed to let himself fantasize. 

And so, he travels, into the deepest corners of his mind, to dig away and pry out his lustful visions of you. 

The pace of his fist never falters as he delves into his imagination, materializing your figure beneath his eyelids; those delicious curves of yours, those big, desperate eyes, that sinful tongue, fuck.

He groans, trembling beneath his own touch, his eyes screwing shut tighter now, pumping his cock faster as he envisions your pretty cunt; how it takes his big cock so greedily, sucking him into you and pulsing around him while he pounds you. 

Law let his mouth hang slack as he continues, unable to contain his euphoric moans.

Your name fell from his lips over and over again, like a gruesome mantra, conducting his body into ecstasy. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans, incapable of commanding his own body as he begins to involuntarily buck his hips, thrusting into his tight fist. 

His cock is hot and bothered in his grip, tip flushed red and weeping precum, his shaft uncontrollably throbbing and begging for release. 

“Shit,” he curses, taking a moment to swipe the pad of his thumb over the hole of his leaking tip, hissing at the sensitive sensation. 

He resumes pumping his cock, using the precum he collected on his digit for more lubricant. 

His free hand flies up and into his hair, gripping and tugging at the strands between his tatted fingers, letting out shaky gasps and groans as he chases his high. 

And soon enough, the familiar warmth of an approaching orgasm pricks at his skin and into his veins, seizing command over his own body. 

“Ugh, y/n” he draws out shakily, eyes lidded as he tilts his head down to watch himself, a thin layer of sweat coating his forehead, making his dark hair stick to his skin. 

His empty lap serves as a reminder of your absence, and he glaces back up at the clock, still thrusting up into his fist.

You’d be back soon. 

Thank god. 

Although he was close, too close, Law knows he’d much rather cum as a result of your efforts; onto your tongue, your face, deep into your womb, anything but into the ball of tissues on his desk. 

So, he stops, letting go of his desperate, twitching cock, attempting to edge himself. 

However, to his dismay, it’s far too late. 

He feels himself stiffen, cock and balls twitching, warmth instantly flooding his veins and his skull.

He cums, almost an embarrassing amount; thick, hot, ropes of semen shooting from his weary tip and coating his toned abdomen in white. 

“Damnit,” he rasps out, chest heaving up and down as he struggles to catch his breath. 

It’s a beautiful sight, your boyfriend’s face flushed red, sweat coating his skin, breathing shakily and cursing under his breath, his toned abs covered in his own seed. 

You can’t help but bite your bottom lip and rub your thighs together as you stand in the doorway, desperate for any sort of stimulation. 

Once he gains even the slightest bit of composure, just enough to ensure he won’t topple over, Law stands, reaching for a wad of tissues to clean himself up with. 

As he turns, he face burns and even deeper red as his gaze meets your familiar form, standing in the doorway, your face flushed, too, eyes big and lust-blown. 

“Y/N-” he stammers, embarrassed and vulnerable, his once-guarded and composed facade dissolved entirely.

“Missed me, huh?” you smirk at him, voice ridden with lust, Law's newly exposed state gifting you with the unfamiliar taste of boldness. 

Of course, he retaliates, as is his custom, surpassing even your unwavering determination with his own dauntless energy. 

“Just get over here and bend over the damn desk.” 

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

©this work belongs to willowhaze26.

do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. 

comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!

[reality-detective]

👹 Exasperated by persistent skin tags and moles that just won't go away?

🌱 Embrace a natural, effective home remedy: Castor Oil and Cayenne Pepper Paste 🌶

⚡️ Why it Works:

- Castor oil's ricinoleic acid offers anti-inflammatory & antibacterial properties.

- Coupled with cayenne pepper's capsaicin, it promotes blood flow and aids skin tag and mole removal.

Usage Method:

- Blend a little bit of castor oil and cayenne pepper into a paste. Apply to the affected area twice daily.

💲Cost-Effective & Easy to Find:

- Both Castor Oil and Cayenne Pepper are easily obtainable.

⚠️ Potential Risks:

- Mild burning sensation might occur.

- Conduct a patch test before application.

🔰 Precautions:

- Avoid eye contact.

- Discontinue use if severe irritation occurs.

🌿 Alternative Remedies for Skin Tags and Moles:

1. Tea Tree Oil: Nature's Solution💧

2. Apple Cider Vinegar: Time-Tested Elixir🍎

3. Banana Peel: Natural Magic🍌

4. Garlic: Ancient Remedy🧄

5. Iodine: Promising Approach🧪

Natural Remedies 🤔

[natalievoncatte]

Kara Zor El Danvers lived in a world of limitless sensation.

Thanks to her cousin, the world knew of her x-ray vision, but her eyesight went far beyond that. She could focus her attention and observe the mechanisms of the cell, or look skyward and see things so vast that they were invisible to the human eye. (She learned in her youth not to tell people that the entire solar system was, from time to time, engulfed in the digestive tract of a space whale so huge that its body was too big for humans to perceive) She could see colors lost to human vision and watch particles scatter off the atmosphere.

He sense of smell was beyond acute; had she the impulse, she could have tracked her family by scent. Her hearing was both gift and curse, as was her sense of taste, which she indulged with abandon thanks to her vastly more efficient digestive system and metabolism.

What most people never thought about was her touch. Kara could shake someone’s hand and read their fingerprint like braille. She was sensitive to the most minute changes in temperature or texture, and at times it could be just as overwhelming and overstimulating as her other senses. Kara learned to embrace it- she was a tactile girl from a race that disdained physical contact, even among lovers.

They had no idea what they were missing.

The first time Kara laid her hands on Lena Luthor was just after she’d arrested the fall of a multi-ton helicopter and dragged it from gravity’s grasp to bring it to rest on the roof of LuthorCorp. She’d checked the pilot first and…

Kara had eidetic memory. Perfect recall. It was another cursed gift, one born of the interaction of perfect healing with her alien brain. She would never forget seeing Lena for the first time. It was hers and hers alone.

Other humans could see Lena’s dark hair and soft pale skin, see the variation between her eyes, one a little more blue than green. They didn’t see what Kara saw; a thousand colors sparkling in those eyes like impossible gems, the heat bloom on her skin following the flush in her cheeks. The thundering of her heart in her chest beat a tempo in Kara’s ears, and then Kara touched her.

It was a simple gesture. No skin to skin, just a hand on Lena’s shoulder to steady her and ask her if she was okay, but beneath it Kara could sense her pulse and her body heat and was dimly aware of the electrical conduction of her nervous system.

It was heady, intoxicating. Even her scent- not the perfume covering it but the scent of *her*, her real scent, shot through with acidic fear, was intoxicating. Kara breathed it in and it exploded in her chest, making her feel a million miles tall.

The meeting was brief. Kara had to deal with annoying robots. There were always robots.

Later, Lena was there again and this time Kara was meeting her. Kara forgot that as she walked in with Kal… Clark. For those first few steps she wasn’t Supergirl or Cat Grant’s Assistant, she was herself, the person she only was around her closest friends who knew her secret. The one who walked tall, shoulders back, with nothing to hide.

Again, Lena was overwhelming. Kara was all but stunned by her, stammering and blushing. She didn’t know if there was love at first sight but first touch, just maybe. Lena’s hand was soft and warm, her grip firm, and Kara didn’t know why, then, that it sent such a jolt through her.

It was not the last time they touched.

Some thugs heaved Lena off her balcony, sending her screaming towards her death. Kara was there -she wouldn’t have had to hear it all over the phone- and caught her. It was a flawless rescue, scooping her from the air. Lena, terrified, clung to her for dear life.

Something happened on the way up. There was a brief, searing moment when Lena’s fear faded and she pressed in tight to her savior. Kara was acutely aware of the bare skin on the inside of Lena’s knee, the feeling of her soft calf against the back of her hand and the pull of Lena’s arms around her neck.

That night, Kara began to have feelings. Imaginings. Feeling silken smooth legs sliding under her palms, delicate hands clutched in hers, fingers laced. Wet skin slick on wet skin and clenching muscles, gossamer curls winding across her flesh in a symphony of pure feeling, hot breath on her skin. Teeth on her neck.

It felt weird, it felt wrong, it felt… predatory. Kara was scared of what she wanted, and how she wanted it- feral, with the wild abandon of an apex predator. Kryptonians were above such things. They were a race of stoic scientists who mastered and abandoned animal lusts and replaced them with cold technology Would she betray her heritage this way, too? She’d failed to keep Kal Kryptonian. What if she lost herself, too?

There were other touches. Soft hands on shoulders and lingering palms resting on arms. Lena hugged Kara and sheltered in her arms, drawing Kara around her like armor, and Kara let herself revel in it. She needed to protect Lena like she needed to breathe air.

Then came another. The Daxamite. The enemy, the lover, the jerk. He gave her touches too. Touches she was supposed to enjoy, supposed to want. Everyone told her so, even Alex who despised and suspected him at first.

She enjoyed it for what it was, and hated it for what it wasn’t.

Then he was gone and she was left again to longing. She tried to abandon the Danvers and Become Kryptonian, but she’d failed. Lena Luthor had gloriously corrupted her and she knew in the deepest hidden parts of her heart that whoever she was, she wasn’t the model Kryptonian youth, promised to the science council. She was Alex Danvers’s sister and Eliza Danvers’s daughter and Clark Kent’s cousin, losing herself in friendship and potstickers and guilt.

In the dark, Kara wept because she knew if she could change it all, if she could go back, save her world and her people, something of great value would be lost.

There was something between them, something terrible, something festering between every touch and it gnawed at Kara more and more with every lingering moment. Joy was shot through with terror when Lena would crowd in close to her, the pair of them giggling wine-drunk like the children they’d never been allowed to be. Children of tragedy, daughters of tarnished fathers, inheritors of legacies too heavy to carry alone.

More and more Lena and Kara let each other press close, each under the other’s shoulder, bearing the weight the weight as one. As one in every way except the one that mattered, until Kara’s heart hurt so much that she remembered those first days on Earth when she’d wished the green fireball had taken her pod too.

Then came the worst thing: the truth.

Kara wanted nothing more than to touch her, to feel skin on skin. She knew if she could hold Lena she could make it better, if she could come just shy of kissing the crown of her head and tell her how impossibly sorry she was that Lena would see, that she would feel and understand.

Instead there was only a wall of ice crusted with poison that shot red hot rancid agony through her veins, like a hot knife flensing her skin as her lungs crushed themselves. It felt like she was dying and she wanted it.

It felt like that the entire time. Every argument, every fight. Kara just wanted to scream. Scream at Lena at Mount Norquay with the ultimate weapon aimed at her heart, scream at her on balconies and rooftops and in fraught rescues where Lena shoved her away. Please just let me hold you one more time.

And then, one day, Lena came back. Kara was doing something meaningless -even with the world at stake she still had to write puff pieces for her asshole new boss- and was pacing around her apartment looking for the will to be human when it felt so pointless, and then she heard the staccato of Lena’s racing heart and pulled open her door.

It was explosive. Kara froze, stunned as if struck. It was like seeing Lena for the first time again, as she stood there with tear-wet cheeks in a winter coat with her arms and shoulders folded in fear, and Kara hated that she was afraid. She watched the invisible spectrum dance across Lena’s skin and was lost in her sea-sapphire eyes all over again and dared not even think the prayer on her tongue, a plea that came to her in Kryptonian first.

“I’m sorry,” Lena began, “I was wrong.”

Kara only heard the pain and knew she had to make it stop. Instinct drove her, the instinct she wasn’t supposed to answer. She embraced Lena with the utmost care, needing only to make it better, to make her precious Lena’s hurting stop.

Despite her photographic memory she would never recall who crossed the Rubicon. Maybe it was both of them at once. Lena touched Kara as she never had before, answering the intensity of Kara’s consuming attention in a way she’d always shied from before. Every flash of boldness from Lena drove Kara more feral and she sucked in a sharp breath as she left a hand print pressed in her door, thinking oh oh Rao I don’t want to hurt her, but if Lena was afraid she didn’t show it.

It all just sort of happened on instinct, like they both just knew what to do. Kara heaved her Lena into the air with a shocking display of strength, quivering with joy. Catching her wasn’t enough, she wanted to scoop Lena up and carry her off like a conquering hero, and she was, this was really happening.

They spoke only once, Kara asking the question. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

Kara exerted every ounce of control she had, schooling every movement, commanding every brush of her fingers and movement of her hands. She let herself drink the sensations, etching a record of every facet of these moments that would endure until the end of her days. She’d never felt as alive as when she felt Lena’s body arch under her hands and the buzz in her throat as she cried Kara’s name.

The humans called it becoming one flesh. Kara thought that was silly. Now, she understood.

Lena answered her tenfold, answering Kara’s burning questions with her hands and lips and teeth, almost shocking Kara with her intensity.

To her surprise it was the after she loved most, feeling Lena’s soft, delicate, vulnerable body cradled in her arms, and when Lena sobbed into her shoulder, Kara wept with her and murmured all the promises again and again and again.

Later, after struggles and losses and a strange sense that it was all finally over, the great battles won, the great miracles all performed, Kara formed the metal and crushed the gems into being with her own hands, and would never forget the trembling in Lena’s hands as she circled the bracelet around her wrist.