#My dumb triggered brain WILL NOT STOP ME!!!!!!!!!!

[revenantghost]

Still really, really, really not doing good so I'll probably only have dumb things to say with this episode (which is a shame, because I love it), but I refuse to fall behind in my rewatch ):<

[kavehater]

The way my luck is so good :D

[dolldefiler]

[Saw a cool idea from @sluttibunnii so I had to deviously nab that for myself to claim hegemony over tumblr’s kink space. Ah shit, I’ve leaked my secret plan. Bollocks.]

C/W: Rape

I wonder why you’d ever feel safe wandering down that lonely, desolate road in the middle of the night. I would hear you first, the soft, slow clicking of heels on cobbled streets. Then I would see you. In the silence, you would hear it. You would feel it.

The soft rustle of my clothes. The cold metal pressed against the side of your head.

Your heart would leap. “Shhh,” you’d hear, before I beckon you deeper into my little dark alleyway. You silly, silly, little girl. Didn’t your mother ever tell you? If a man with a gun shoots you, he wants you dead. If he uses it to lure you somewhere else… 

He wants to break your nasty, slutty set of rapeholes.

I’d lure your naive, terrified ass deeper into the darkness. In the shadows, I’d push you against the wall and quickly tear off your leggings. I’d press the cold barrel against your temple and spit furious orders into your ears. Start smiling. Stop crying. Moan for me. Twerk your fat fucking ass on your rapist’s cock. Do it or I’d blow your fucking brains out right here.

I’d brutally rail your holes against the wet, drippy sewage pipes of some old building. I’d pull out your tits, and roughly molest them, squeezing them just to hear your groan in pain through that hollow smile of yours. Fuck, looking into your teary, traumatised eyes while you pathetically attempt a smile would make my dick pulse so fucking hard. Look at me, you dumb cunt. Smile at me. Your rapist. Your world.

I’d push the barrel of my gun into your mouth and command you to make me cum. Squeeze your cunt on my cock or I’d break in your ass. Jiggle that fat ass against me or I’d litter it with bruises. Lick the barrel of my gun as if it were a cock or I’d skullfuck you once I was done with your asshole. All while I’d spit globs of gross, smelly saliva into your face.

My balls would fucking churn and you’d feel it, desperately trying to jerk my cock off with your holes to save your life. You’d become an obscene, depraved whore to save your life. Just to feel my cum deep inside your fertile, fuckdoll body.

You’d collapse on the floor, drained of your energy, having escaped with your life. My sticky cum would leak out of your broken cunt. Pathetic little bitch. I’d point the gun straight at your face. Frozen in fear, you’d watch as I pull the trigger.

Click.

The gun was empty.

[justalia]

stop assigning meaning to the physical world.

stop assigning meaning to something that is only reflecting you.

it is always reflecting what you have inside, constantly and continuously.

the 3D should arise no interest in you.

you gave it to yourself in imagination and that’s MORE than enough. you have it. you declared it to be yours.

the 3D is not manifesting, it has no power and since your body, your brain, your thoughts belong to the human flesh version of you they have no power.

yes, you read that right.

it is not your human version manifesting, it is not your human body and not your brain since like everything else physical it belongs to the 3D.

alia in her physical human form can only TRY to manifest.

the 3D is powerless and so it’s your human body. it is powerless. it can’t do anything,

it can’t make anything happen.

you CANNOT manifest with your human brain.

your human body and all the emotions and thoughts attached to it are just there. they belong to the 3D and are powerless UNLESS YOU (THE INNER MAN, GOD WITHIN YOU) GIVE THEM POWER.

your human self is pathetically powerless. stop giving it so much power by being scared of your own thoughts, emotions and feelings.

YOU aka THE INNER MAN, PURE CONSCIOUSNESS are giving them power.

YOU ARE GOD.

god does not exist outside of you, manifestation is what prayer is because god exists INSIDE of you. it is within you.

it gets me so frustrated when i see people asking me if having it in imagination is enough. and it’s not because i don’t feel for you or i think you’re dumb af (sometimes i do lmao) but it’s because I KNOW how tired you are I KNOOOOWWWWWW how much it sucks to be in this state of trying.

BELIEVE ME WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS SO FUCKING TIRED.

i was constantly in a war in my own mind thinking i had to change my thoughts or constantly look for a specific feeling/emotion. i was SO tired of being scared in my own mind, it’s truly the worst thing ever because there’s no escape. if you feel trapped and scared and you’re constantly trying to prove yourself in YOUR OWN mind THERE IS NO PEACE. there is no escape and you don’t know what to do.

there is no escape because our imagination is all we got and ever will have and if we make that our hell you’re gonna live a miserable miserable life.

i was SO tired of being triggered by the 3D and blaming myself for what i was seeing, i was in a constant self-sabotaging cycle. i was looking outside for permission to just believe when everything is within, even permission to just believe it yes! that’s within you!

and i was wondering what was i doing wrong.. well, news flash alia if you’re tired you’re not in the state you want to be.

i knew manifestation wasn’t supposed to be tiring, i studied my shit! i knew it! but i still found myself trapped in my own mind.

i decided i had to be honest with myself, i had to stop excuses and reason on why and how i was supposed to believe.

“why am i seeing the opposite? why am i seeing just movement and not my full manifestation?”

did you ever really shift your state?

be honest.

be honest with yourself because you don’t gain nothing by lying to yourself.

“well… i feel like i’m doing it right but i still cannot see my manifestation”

are you doing it right? are you?

are you doing it right if you’re acknowledging your manifestation isn’t real just because it isn’t physical?

“i don’t understand why did the opposite happen what am i doing wrong?”

why are you acknowledging the 3D as the real reality? why are you taking ANYTHING the 3D shows you as fact?

did you sit with the concept that imagination/consciousness is the only reality?

did you internalize it?

because if you did you wouldn’t be bothered at all by ANYTHING the 3D is showing you EVER.

no, not even the “positive” things should faze you.

why do you care what the physical world shows you if it literally means nothing?

the 3D is never gonna fulfill you on its own.

that sp coming in, that money in your account, that dream body in the mirror, that dream face, that job is NEVER gonna fulfill you.

YES! NEVER! THE 3D WILL NEVER FULFILL YOU.

harsh truth?

well, it’s the truth.

you could have your sp telling you how much they love you and you could still not believe them.

you could look in the mirror and have that dream body or dream face and still find A MILLION things you want to change and be insecure of yourself.

you could have that dream career and still feel like a failure.

you could have a million dollars in your bank account and still feel financially insecure and unhappy.

why?

because we are always living in imagination no matter what the physical world is showing you.

look back at your life and tell me i’m wrong.

personal examples:

*TW: mention of ED experiences*

i remember when i was a teen i had what some would consider a “dream body” and i still felt ugly, fat and had an eating disorder.

i used to gain and lose weight continuously because i was NEVER satisfied with how i looked, i wanted to be skinny but i was never skinny enough. i wanted to be pretty but i was never pretty enough.

there was ALWAYS something i could change and improve.

i had people complimenting me on my body and on my face, did i care?

did i care even ONE bit?

no i didn’t. no matter how close i was to the beauty standard i was NEVER satisfied with my appearance because i wasn’t accepting it inside.

i believed what I WANTED TO BELIEVE AS TRUE IN IMAGINATION.

yes, i had people telling me “omg you lost so much weight, you’re so skinny!” and i looked in the mirror and still thought “i’m so fat, just a few more pounds and i’ll be satisfied”.

spoiler: i wasn’t.

clearly this is not a fun circumstance to be in and it is mental health we’re talking about but i can make less harsh examples.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

my sp was PURSUING ME and i still saw her as a liar and a manipulator because of my trust issues.

i had her telling me “i want you so bad these other girls are nothing compared to you” and i was whining to my best friend and complaining about how i “simply could not trust her”…

you may ask me “wtf is wrong w you alia why did you think that?”

and idk what to tell you tbh i just trusted “my gut” (aka my imagination 💀) because in my mind there was no way she could be genuine…

poor thing never even did me wrong and i still trusted my imagination so strongly disregarding every cute thing she was telling me.

to the point i was telling her i didn’t wanna be with her and we could never be together because i could never trust her (i had made up in my mind this persona for her that proved to me she was unloyal and not trustworthy) and she would reply to me things like “why the fuck do you not believe me” or “why the fuck do you not want me” and then when she acted according to my script by ignoring me (obviously she would ignore me tf cause eiypo aside why would she want to entertain someone that says “i don’t want you”) i would be like “there you go, i knew it”.

this is funny now because i can see how i always blindly trusted my imagination and had blind faith in it being FACT when it came to the negative things.

if it’s that easy for the negative stuff why would it be any harder for the positive stuff?

why?

because you think that good things never come easy?

because YOU think that you need to work hard to get the good stuff?

who is thinking that?

YOU!

who is making up that assumption?

YOU!

the physical world WILL NEVER be able to provide enough proof for you to believe you are who you want to be unless YOU believe it.

you can’t reason your way into faith and it’s true because i CONSCIOUSLY applied the law properly multiple times (gave myself more than enough proof that this shit works) and still found myself in this state because the proof is never enough if you don’t JUST believe.

read this thread i made:

faith is KEY idk how else to tell you, faith in yourself is the ONLY thing you truly NEED. when you don’t believe that you have what you want simply because you said it you are sinning because YOU ARE GOD.

by lacking faith in yourself you lack faith in god. you are sinning.

i know you want to drop the need to have it in the 3D, i know that deep down you’re desperate to drop the need for it and just believe that having it in imagination is enough.

i know how you are feeling exactly.

you are desperately looking for permission and proof to just believe when you actually should JUST do it.

it’s always gonna be a leap of faith, faith isn’t built, it isn’t something you create, it is something you surrender to.

“but if i stop wanting in the 3D will it ever show up?”

you shouldn’t give a shit about when, if, or how the 3D conforms to what you have inside if you truly and DEEPLY understand that imagination is the only reality.

asking yourself if the 3D will conform if you drop the need for it is batshit crazy bc again THIS IS HOW THE WORLD WORKS.

IMAGINATION EXPRESSED IS ALL THE WORLD IS!!!!

THE PHYSICAL WORLD IS JUST IMAGINATION.

asking yourself if the 3D will conform is the same thing as asking yourself if the apple will fall to the ground if you drop it.

yes, you read that right.

law of assumption is just as real as the law of gravity.

it’s how the world works whether you believe it or not.

idk how else to tell you this but please just allow yourself to surrender, give yourself permission to believe in imagination being the only reality and not needing it in its physical form. because at the end of the day the 3D being “positive” does not equal to true fulfillment.

allow yourself to feel the peace of having it for the sake of feeling good.

give permission to yourself.

“but what if it doesn’t work?”

yeah what if?

what’s the worst that’s gonna happen?

you not getting what you want and that’s the same exact miserable life you’re living now.

now that we’ve established that you have nothing to lose by just believing give yourself permission to do exactly that.

just have faith.

hold your own damn hand.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

[ssnake-eyes-uc]

{Ohh no!! The urges I can't control!! What could have triggered them this time I've got to stop this!! I've got to get out of here!!!}. 'Hey!'. {OMG!! just run!!} *Turns and runs, sprinting away from a confused coworker and towards the parking garage.* {WHEW! CLOSE CALL} *fumbles for my keys, before unlocking car door and hopping into my car.. turning it on and taking a deep breath as static hisses through the radio a familiar voice chimes in and my blood turns cold.* sss-eek sss-ervice sss-illy sss-ervent... Sss-ays sss-nakeYe-sss...

SssssssSssssssSssssssSssssssSssssss...

*I wake up stumbling around in high heels, realizing I'm dressed as a girl..* {Ohh no!!! Not again!! Where am I?}. *I stutter out as a loud voice comes over a speaker connected to the metal door in front of me.* 'Good Bambi Girl! you made it! Now open the mouth of the door into the throat of the room.. taste the air with your tongue and lock.' *my mind blurs as I walk into the room, my mouth and throat opening as my tongue drops out and I drool, my vision now very hazy. The door to the room clicks shut as it dings and an automated voice says 'Zap Cock Drain Obey Drop For Cock! ***POP*** ' As my knees buckle I drop to the floor, my mouth and throat open.. tongue drooling as thoughts of sucking off cock race through my head.*. 'Poor Bambi's brain is still on.. haha! Well her mind will now melt like hot cotton candy as it mixes her little brain into a dumb bimbo wonderland of pink bubbles popping and giggling... Erasing her IQ to nothing... haha'

SssssssSssssssSssssssSssssssSssssss...

*I wake up to the last man buttoning his pants as he hocks a wad of spit on my face and smirks. My mouth now tasting of the gallons of sperm and piss I must have drank a huge mouthful still in my clutches as I gulp it down the taste sparkling and tasting like cotton candy as I smile and giggle. Before realizing someone is still in the room behind me.*

SSSSS-STAND!!!!! SSSSS-SERVENT!!!!!

{sirens ring in my head} *I am propelled to my feet and twirl, spinning around as if a force of divine will made me. That is when my eyes connect with the glaring red embers of eyes, burning in the dark.* Master!!!! *I shout drool falling down my mouth as I helplessly stare into the burning depths of his eyes, my mind erasing as I fall deep into trance.. deeper than I've ever gone. As I see his snake body slither into the light his glistening muscles flexing as he coils around me.. making me a helpless drone a mindless fuck doll as he grips my being and forces his ownership inside me.. my tight pussy gripping him as hard as it can.. craving his dominance filling me.. making me fulfill my purpose as his Bimbo Fuck Doll.* 'thank you master..' *Is all I can whimper as I fall to the floor full of his approval.. my pussy leaking his mark all over the floor as I blank out and hear the last words ever hear again.* 'Bambi's Uniform Locked.. Good Bambi.. your now our Bimbo Fuck Doll for Life!!!' {HHHHEEEEELLLLP.............} *My mind spirals down into a vacant oblivion as I lay there blank my holes open... Only listening for commands, my mind no longer functioning... As my conscious mind is sleeping now forever.. all I hear in the background is a faint static..... Ssssssssssssssss... As I lay limp on the floor*

SSSSSsssssSSSSSsssssSSSSSsssss

GOOD BAMBI BIMBO FUCK DOLL

[sunniques]

OMG YES MANIPULATIVE PROFESSOR WONWOO

— teacher’s pet

cw/tw: degradation, manipulation, yandere themes, dubcon, oral sex (m), riding, unprotected sex, creampie

“God, you’re just a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

Your eyes are teary as you gaze up at your professor. It’s not that you were purposely trying to fail his class. In fact, you spent hours studying and trying your hardest to understand the material. You thought this time you’d be able to pass the test without Wonwoo’s help, but once again you had overestimated your abilities.

“S-Sorry.” You mewl out as your professor slaps his cock against your cheek. His precum smears across your face as you keep eye contact. “I tried my best. I swear.”

He knows you did. You’re such a good girl that you went out and studied so hard that you got a nearly perfect score. But you can’t know that. This lovely fantasy he has going will come to an abrupt end if you find out you don’t need him to pass, and that can’t happen.

“I know, sweetheart. Can’t help that your dumb little brain just thinks about cock all day.”

Wonwoo groans when you lean forward to take his dick into your mouth. You greedily lap up his precum, eager to placate him and make him forgive you. Your soft tongue caresses his slit as you deep throat him.

“Fucking shit.” Wonwoo hisses. “That’s it, baby. Keep sucking my cock.”

You do. You keep sucking and licking his cock until he’s shooting his cum down your throat. As always, you swallow it hungrily, wanting nothing more than to please your professor.

Wonwoo’s eyes are dark as he pulls you on his lap. He presses a messy kiss on your lips, loving how you taste mixed with him. Guilt and remorse are things he can’t feel when it comes to the situation. You love being his little cumdump, and he loves how much you love it.

“Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans as you sink down on his big cock.

Imediately, you start to bounce on him, fucking yourself on his dick like it’s all you care about. You’re moaning and whining so prettily, crying out his name as his weeping tip reaches a spot inside you that no other man has ever touched.

Your pretty tits are bouncing in his face, and Wonwoo can’t stop himself from taking one of your hard nipples in his mouth. He groans around the sensitive bud, tongue swirling and flicking it before he nips on the sensitive skin with his teeth. You tighten around him, staining his cock with your arousal. It makes him grab your ass to help you fuck his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart. If only you were as good at my class as you are at riding this dick.” Wonwoo growls as he starts to thrust up into you.

You moan loudly, not caring that anyone could walk by his office and hear what you two are doing. The back of your eyelids are painted with stars, and all you can focus on is the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Cum inside me! Please!”

Wonwoo smirks at how needy you sound. He really has turned you into the perfect little cockslut.

“Shit, baby. You’re lucky you’re my favorite student.” Wonwoo groans as he starts to fuck up into your hot cunt. “Can’t ever say no to creaming in your tight little pussy.”

His words trigger your orgasm, and all you can do is chant a string of thank you’s like the mindless slut you are. Your hips keep moving until you feel your professor shoot his sticky cum inside you. It soothes the ache you’ve felt since you met him, but you know it won’t be long before it returns. Luckily, your professor is kind enough to help you through it all.

[jhoneybees]

Fear

This is a first! My first smutty fic that is inspired by this song!

Taglist: @elvisalltheway101 @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a

Characters: Mid60s!Elvis x Wife!Reader

Warning/triggers: Never knew I would be saying this but...Smut! lol, mentions of sex, nudity, reader's first time-ish, nipple play, blowjob, male receiving and almost female receiving

_____________________________________________

The both of you are quite open with your thoughts and feelings and it's been like that for years and years, of course Elvis and you would sometimes feel a bit insecure about something but you two would find ways to work through it.

But the only thing that Elvis hasn’t shared with you is a fear, something that he thinks you might find silly and… maybe it is.

Ever since you met back in 1964, he has been dodging the topic of sex over the many years of dating and it's not that you’re dumb and naive around sexual things, no sir, Elvis sure knows you’re not a stranger to foreplay and it’s not that he hasn’t done the deed before, the two of you know he’s been with many girls before.

It's just this one thought, this one itchy thought that's been plaguing his mind ever since you brought up the topic.

Of course, he wants to have sex with you. Oh how he wants to show you how a man really loves a woman.

But it's just…he’s afraid that he might hurt you.

Most men may think it’s silly to have such ideas because it’s only natural to thrust themselves into a woman and pound them into the mattress.

Right?

Well, yes but there's something about the thought of seeing your angel face contort in pain, tears springing at the outer corners of your eyes and hissing at the burning sensation that doesn't sit right with him, he knows the pain wouldn't last forever.

He's just scared.

He couldn't bear seeing you wincing and crying because of him. He's always been so sensitive with how you're taken care of and yes, you're a full grown woman and he probably shouldn't be worrying about you so much like that.

Hell, he can't help it though.

This fear is scarier than anything else to him, even more terrifying than the big fear of proposing to you which he did a year ago.

Now he's finally married to you and right at this moment sitting on the edge of a bed in a hotel suite in Hawaii, on your honeymoon.

“Elvis…”

Elvis perks up at your voice, seeing your head peeking out from behind the bathroom door with that gorgeous smile. His lips curl at the corners.

“Close your eyes”

He does what you say and closes his eyes, he has an idea what you might be doing and he's nervous to say the least.

Swallowing thickly as he hears the varnished floorboards creak, a light whiff of your sweet perfume tickles his nose.

“Feel me”

He gulps again and when your soft hands lift his ones up to place on your hips, his breath catches in his throat at the feeling of delicate lace.

“You know what it is?”

He nods quietly, his heart pounding in his chest, he thinks it might go out of control at any second.

“Open your eyes”

Just…

How could he do such a thing to you? To tarnish your angelic, heavenly body, with how the white lace underwear moulds onto your hips and the little pudge below your belly button. The matching white lace bra complimenting your breasts, the softness and fullness of them spilling over the tops and little pink buds peeking through the fabric.

It’s all making his head spin. You’re so beautiful and he can already feel his dress pants tighten. He has shown his love to you in so many ways but he has never shown the way that he has been waiting to do and as much as his heart is telling him to show you, his brain is stopping him.

Fingers pushing ever so lightly against your waist. Elvis is in absolute awe of you, the pressure of his fingertips pressing down on your skin makes something crack inside of him, his breathing becoming laboured when the urge to feel your entire body with his palms enters his mind.

His eyes roaming up your body, eyelids fluttering lazily. A groan vibrates in his throat.

“You’re gorgeous…” he breathes, earning an angelic giggle from you.

As his eyes begin to trail back down your body, they snap up to yours when you place a hand on his shoulder. A breath sucks out of him at the slight contact of his clothed length getting brushed by your knee resting on the mattress between his legs.

He gently lays himself down at the light push from your hand, making sure to let out a breath or he would’ve exploded right then and there.

A flame ignites in his heart at just the sight of you crawling on top of him, your goddess of a body planting right on his pelvis and leaning down closer and closer to his face. Sighing at the feel of your soft lips pressing onto his passionately.

Elvis’ hands try to grasp onto something, anything, and what he finds is your hips, your squishy but firm hips.

Sliding them up to the curves of your breasts, he hovers his thumbs over your hardened nipples. Hearing you let out a moan as he brushes over your clothed buds.

“H-honey…”

Stuttering in between kisses. He groans at your sensual hums and gentle nibbles on his bottom lip, watching you pull away, he looks into your eyes that dig into his soul and with hesitant hands, he gently clenches the sides of your panties in his fists. Feeling your hands trail down his chest to his pants, shuffling back to unbutton and his breath hitches at your fingers wrapping around his cock.

His mind falls static at the image of you, leaning down and peering up at him with your pretty soft lips parting to take him into your mouth, knowing you'd take such good care of him because you always do, and as he feels your wet tongue flatten against his tip and enveloping him in between your lips letting the wet muscle slide down under his length ever so slowly and so gently, the wind gets knocked out of his lungs.

“Ooohh baby…”

His voice comes out hoarse and pleasured. He tried keeping his head up to watch you but the anticipation of wanting to feel you spreads all throughout his body and with that his head falls onto the bed.

Shaky hands going up to press into his eye sockets, a string of moans fall from his lips. He swears you must know every little trick, you make him become so undone in such a short time.

His hips stuttering, more slow dragged out groans squeeze out of his throat as the suction in your mouth milks every drop of him.

Elvis in a daze, his hands fall to his sides. Taking a few moments to come back to earth.

After taking a few breaths, he opens his eyes, sensing your fingers grazing his skin as you undo the buttons on his shirt, sliding it just over his shoulders. He almost chokes on his own saliva when you quickly take your underwear off and unclasp your bra, leaving you bare naked right on top of him.

…How did he get so lucky?

He’s falling in love with your body all over again because of the view of your little imperfections that you would always think are ugly, he finds them so damn sexy and he always makes sure you believe that too.

His gaze travelling down your frame, he grunts at how pretty your dark wiry hairs decorate the trail down to your womanhood. He’s hypnotised by your beauty that he doesn’t notice his cock is nearly just about able to be nestled in between your lower lips but when you grind on him again while biting your lower lip, he suddenly feels the wetness and as he's sucking in a sharp breath, the realisation hits him like a truck.

“U-uh.. honey uhm-”

“Hmm?...”

His brain runs in circles. That thought comes drumming back into his mind. He doesn't want to hurt you.

Feeling your hand travelling up his chest, his breath hitches at the mischievous glint in your eye, your hips moving to grind on him again and a mental flash blinds his vision. Your little hole ripping open twice the size causing blood to seep out and a deafening scream right in his ear coming from your mouth.

Sucking in the air as his cock slides in between your lips, his heart pounds out of his chest even more.

A small whimper rolling off his tongue.

“Hon-”

Elvis stares as your eyes flutter close, your face contorting slowly into pleasure and the sounds of small moans falling from your pretty lips, his horror thoughts come to a halt at the sight of your angel beauty melting into something that he can imagine is sinful.

His heart almost stops when you lift your hips. hovering over his hard cock, you lower yourself slightly rolling your hips over his red, angry tip. Teasing him. Barely rubbing, making combined gasps and moans fill the room.

“D-don’t, I’m gonna hurt you- please”

Flashes of the painful images flood his vision again. With frantic hands, he grips onto your hips to stop you.

“Elvis?”

Peering up at you with parted lips and furrowed eyebrows “W-w-w-we shouldn’t…” he shakes his head while quickly sitting up, leaning himself back against the headboard. Gulping thickly, Elvis runs his fingers through his hair, breathing in and out as he tries to calm himself.

It’s not just him who's been waiting, it’s you too.

He should be telling you.

“I-I-I don’t want to hurt you, Y/n…I-It’s gonna hurt a-and It’s not that ah don’t think yer strong baby, yer real strong b-but its just…I-I can’t bear ta see ya in pain” he stutters.

Glancing over at you sitting there on your knees naked in front of him on the shared bed, he swallows harshly.

“Honey I-”

“It only hurts for a little bit…”

His heart thumps at your sudden soft voice, eyes flicking from one of your eyes to the other. He’s looking for something, something like some sort of judgement but all he can see is bravery, certainty and just pure love.

“W-we don’t gotta do this anymore if ya- if ya don’t want to” he mutters.

The room falls silent for a few moments before your voice breaks through.

“Have you always been gentle with me?”

“Baby?”

“Have you always been gentle with me, Elvis?”

Clearing his throat softly, he thinks for a bit.

“Of course, darlin”

“ And would that change now?”

“N-no…”

Elvis gulps, watching as you crawl closer. Your legs on either side of his hips gasping softly at the coolness of your fingertip lifting his chin, your soft stare boring into his soul.

“Then there’s no need to worry”

Then ever gently your lips press against his, his heart sighing at your delicate hands cupping his face.

“I want your sex, Elvis”

[fandomxpreferences]

Caught In the Crossfire

Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!reader (both over 18)

TW: violence and guns, blood, injury, angst, I think thats it

Summary: JJ has sworn to protect you no matter what, but sometimes you give him a run for his money.

Word Count:2.6k

Ever since you were kids, JJ has been protective over you. But since the two of you started dating, it only amplified. He's been in more fights than you can count just because a man looked at you wrong and he almost drove you to the hospital over a stubbed toe one night because he was that worried. 

He insists that it's not just his job to look out for you, but his privilege. Truthfully you're not complaining. However, that's not to say you can't take care of yourself. Anyone who really knows you knows that you're not to be fucked with. 

When it comes to your friends, and especially JJ, you've been known to make reckless decisions if they're in danger. You and JJ only have each other, and there's nothing that either of you wouldn't do for the other. 

He's been a constant in your life since you were four years old, and the two of you have found solace in each other over the years amid your shitty home lives. It's no secret that you'd take a bullet for each other, he stepped in front of a shotgun that was pointed at you once. 

Which is exactly why you're in your current situation.

This whole thing is stupid, honestly. Barry got some bad intel, now convinced that one of you stole from him again. You may not be the brightest group, but you're not dumb. You wouldn't make that mistake twice. 

"Give me my fucking money, or somebody is going to die." 

Barry's voice is hoarse as he screams and your wide eyes lock with Sarah's. Everyone has their hands up defensively, and you stand helplessly next to Kie and Sarah as John B tries to de-escalate. 

"Barry, we didn't do it. I swear." 

The man isn't willing to listen to reason and time moves in slow motion as he pulls out a black handgun and points it directly at John Bs chest. You vaguely register Sarah screaming to your right but you're frozen in place as everything unfolds. 

That is until you see JJ step up. He puts his body between the barrel and his friend, standing less than ten feet away. A wicked smile overtakes Barry's face and your stomach drops.

"Looks like we have a volunteer." 

It's like a movie as the world seems to stop spinning, and that protective instinct takes over. You see the switch in Barry's eyes and your gaze darts to his finger twitching on the trigger. He's going to pull it this time. 

Your fight or flight takes control, and you've never been one to run. Within seconds you're shoving JJ behind you. He's taken off guard, unable to stop you despite his notable size advantage. Turns out that when you're flooded with adrenaline you have hulk strength. 

Barry chuckles darkly and tilts his head to the side. 

"Makes no difference to me." 

You're fighting JJ now, the two of you shoving against each other. He's about to pick you up and move you, but it's too late. It's only a span of maybe twenty seconds between you stepping forward and the flash of the muzzle. 

Everything happens so fast, it takes you a moment for your brain to catch up. There's a loud bang that causes your ears to ring, followed by a searing pain in your abdomen. Everything stops for a moment as Barry speeds off and the group processes. 

Nobody realizes you've been shot you realize; they're all breathing sighs of relief and talking about how scary it was. In their defense, you're standing still like you're okay and not screaming the way you always imagined you would if you were shot.

"Thank god his aim is shit." John B jokes, and everyone but you laughs.

Sarah and JJ seem to notice at the same time, their eyes widening in concern as they stare at you. It's only been thirty seconds, not enough time for the damage to fully reveal itself to them. 

Your hand comes down to your stomach as you feel something warm and you stare down at your blood-covered fingers. Your brain is struggling to keep up, unable to formulate a response to your now panicked boyfriend. 

"Baby, are you okay?" 

You're turned sideways, angled just enough that he can't fully see you. You always thought something like this would be more dramatic; maybe take more time. Turns out, it only takes about two minutes. 

JJ hasn't even had a chance to lovingly scold you for putting yourself in harm's way. You feel like you've been standing still with warm blood seeping through your shirt for hours, but in reality, it's only been a minute and a half. 

Sarah goes to reiterate the question, but you're not listening. Your ears are ringing; from the gunshot or blood loss, you aren't sure. JJ watches as you sway a bit and his entire world comes crashing down as your knees give out and you collapse in a heap. 

JJ is on the ground next to you in an instant, the rest of the group quickly following when they realize something is wrong. 

His eyes are swimming with fear as he looks you over and bile creeps up his throat when he sees the crimson liquid pooling on the ground around you. 

What ensues next is nothing short of chaos as JJ cradles your head and starts barking orders. 

"JB put pressure on that! Sarah, call 911 and tell them we need an ambulance. Pope, Kie, go find anything we can use to slow the bleeding!" 

Everyone scrambles to do as he says, not daring to question the man or hesitate for even a second. You've never seen JJ in such an intense situation, and the way he completely takes control with an even voice takes you by surprise. 

You cling to the thought as you try to stay awake and wonder how much worse this will hurt when the adrenaline wears off. 

You feel your eyes getting heavy, and despite your best efforts to pry them open they still start to flutter. You're hit with the realization that you're dying in the arms of the man you love, and a tear slips out the corner of your eye.

There's so much to do; you're not ready to go.

"Hey, I need you to stay with me, baby. Keep your eyes open for me."

You blink a couple of times, trying to fight off the blackness encroaching on your vision. 

"I'm trying."

Your voice is weak; JJ can tell you're using all your strength just to mutter out the two simple words. He gives you a watery smile as salty tears drip onto your face. 

"I know, you're doing so good." 

Your lip quirks up a bit and his heart soars, false hope filling his chest. 

"I'm gonna miss you. Will you miss me?"

Despite being only half conscious, the words come out crystal clear and JJ kisses the back of your hand. 

"I'd miss you so much, but we don't have to worry about that okay? You're gonna be fine and we're gonna live a long happy life together. They'll kick us out of the nursing home."

Your sight is blurry now as you stare up at him, and your body is trembling violently. 

"I'm scared."

JJ chokes down a sob and kisses your sweat-covered forehead. 

"I know, sweet girl. I'm right here, you're going to be okay. I'll keep you safe."

He can barely speak now as his throat closes up and he notices you go limp. 

"Y/N? Baby squeeze my hand, give me something. Anything."

He's begging and when you don't respond, all his composure falls away. Kie is back with a hand full of towels and JJ checks the pulse on your neck, barely feeling it against his fingertips. 

"Kie, do CPR!" 

She does as she's told and JJ can faintly hear sirens approaching. He watches your face for any sign of life and shoves Kie to the side when he finds none. 

"You're not doing it hard enough!"

All of his training from being a lifeguard two summers ago comes rushing back as he puts his weight on your diaphragm. 

"JJ, you gotta stop man."

Pope and Sarah are trying to pull him off as he openly sobs now, every muscle in his body straining against their hold. 

"I can't lose her!"

His arms cradle your body as he holds you to his chest, wails ripping from his lungs. 

"Please wake up. I still need you."

He doesn't even register the ambulance pulling up before he's ripped away from you. He watches as they work on you and load you up into the back before speeding off. 

Everyone is quick to hop in the Twinkie, taking off like a bat out of hell in the direction of the hospital. 

JJ is crying into Kie's shoulder in the backseat, everyone battling their own sorrow and tears. 

His hands feel sticky as your blood dries on them and he's suddenly painfully aware of the rust-colored stains littering his entire body and clothes. He can smell the metallic scent of iron and it makes his stomach turn.

JJ doesn't even wait for the car to stop before jumping out and sprinting into the ER. He's sure he looks like a madman with crazed eyes and blood-stained skin, but he doesn't care. 

If you die, you'll have sacrificed yourself to save him. That's simply not knowledge he's capable of living with, and he needs to know you're going to be okay. 

The receptionist looks like a deer caught in headlights as her eyes rake over his form and he skips the niceties altogether. 

"I'm here for my girlfriend, she was just brought in with a gunshot wound."

His words slur as he blurts them out and after a second she puts it together and gives him a sympathetic look. 

"She's in emergency surgery, sir. There's no update yet, I'm sorry." 

His hands slam against the counter and the woman who looks to be only a couple years older than him flinches.

"That's not good enough!"

She's about to respond when he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders yanking him back. 

"I'm sorry about him, he's under a lot of stress."

She nods with a weary smile and John B forces him over to a chair. 

"You're not doing anyone any good if you get kicked out."

It's dark by the time a doctor comes with any news, several hours having passed. 

As soon as he hears your name called, JJ leaps to his feet and rushes over. 

"Are you the boyfriend?"

JJ nods and the doctor sighs. 

"She lost a lot of blood. The bullet just barely missed an artery, a millimeter to the left and this would be a different conversation. We did a transfusion and were able to repair the damage. She's got a long road to recovery, but she'll be just fine."

JJ nearly collapses at the revelation and he feels four pairs of hands holding him up. 

"Applying pressure to the wound and providing CPR saved her life. You did good, son."

JJ nods, unable to speak and John B asks what they're all thinking. 

"Can we see her?"

The doctor ponders for a moment before nodding. 

"It's after visiting hours but given the circumstance, I'll make an exception. Only one of you though. The rest can come back at 8 am during regular hours."

It doesn't even need to be discussed and JJ follows the man silently. Nerves claw at his throat as he nears a door and he mentally prepares for what's on the other side. 

Part of him thinks this is a cruel joke and that you're really gone. He won't be able to breathe until he sees you with his own two eyes.

"She's still unconscious. She'll probably be disoriented when she wakes up, but we've got her on heavy painkillers. She shouldn't feel much discomfort."

The doctor pats him on the back before leaving and he takes a deep breath while pushing the heavy door open. 

Relief washes over him when he sees your sleeping figure on the bed. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he just walked into your room while you were napping. 

His eyes take in your appearance and fresh tears sting his waterline.

Your face looks peaceful but there's oxygen in your nose and IVs sticking out of your bruised arms. 

All things considered, you don't look too bad but his heart still breaks. Guilt eats at him and in typical JJ fashion, he blames himself. 

He should have known you'd try to interfere and stopped you. He failed at his one-sworn duty, and it almost got you killed.

His hand laces with yours as he sits in the chair at your bedside. He lets his head rest against your arm and just memorizes your scent and the feeling of your soft skin. 

Even though the strong aroma of iodine and hand sanitizer you still smell like cotton candy. 

He almost lost this. And he can't fathom never hearing your laugh again or seeing the way your nose scrunches when you get frustrated with him. 

He dozes off and a few hours later he's awoken by your body shifting under him. He wipes the drool from his mouth and looks up to see your eyes moving rapidly. 

He's watched you sleep enough times to know you're about to wake up and leans up to kiss your forehead. 

You blink a few times trying to place your whereabouts. The room is still dark because of the curtains, but you know it's foreign. 

The sterile tinge of alcohol burns your nose and your face scrunches up when you feel all the wires attached to you. 

"Am I in the hospital?"

Your voice is raspy from lack of water and JJ nods. 

"Yeah, you gave us quite a scare."

You roll your eyes playfully, and JJ thinks that even in the pale light coming from the machines you look ethereal.

"You know me, I've got a flair for the dramatics. Gotta keep it interesting."

JJ lets out a laugh and you smile brightly at the man you love. 

A thick air covers the two of you and you squeeze his hand. 

"I was so scared. I thought you were going to die."

Your heart clenches at how small he sounds and your hand reaches up to cup his cheek. 

"I'm sorry. I don't regret doing it, but I do regret causing you pain."

His head turns to press his lips to your palm and he lingers for a moment before pulling back just slightly. 

"I'm not mad. It's my job to protect you, just maybe don't give me so much overtime."

He has a teasing smile on his face and you can't help but laugh. It's silent for a beat before you speak again. 

"This place is definitely haunted."

JJ stares at you for a moment and chuckles.

"Oh, for sure."

He pauses for a second then lurches forward. 

"Boo!"

You gasp and slap his arm, playful disapproval on your face. 

"Don't do that!"

You're interrupted by a knock on the door and look over. 

"Hey, there she is!"

You're greeted by the rest of the pogues and open your arms for a hug. They each take turns embracing you, being careful of your injuries, and take a seat. 

"So, did you see a white light?"

Sarah kicks John B with a scolding glare and you giggle.

"It's okay. No, mostly just blinding pain and then darkness."

JJ looks down and you can tell it's hard for him to hear. 

"Enough about that, tell me something funny."

The group dissolves into conversation and laughter, a smile on your face as you look at your found family. 

"I'm so happy you're okay." JJ whispers and you look over at him. 

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Maybank."

[imyourbratzdoll]

Chris evans is sex high so he decided to fuck his short! Girlfriend request

hi! thank you for sending this, sorry it took so long!

summary - chris is horny, and his girlfriend isn't exactly helping his problem.

warning - smut, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, and the divider is by @newlips

Chris growls lowly as he stares at his girl. His cock strains against his trackies. His girlfriend isn’t helping as she prances around in nothing but one of his shirts, which with her height, makes it look gigantic. “Chris, baby! I need help, please!” Hearing us shout out to him makes him get up. Once Chris reaches where I am, he stops. His cock twitches in his pants, his mouth dropping. 

He catches me trying to reach the biscuits sat at the top of the cabinet, “fuck it”, he mumbles to himself before storming forward, grabbing hold of me and bending me over the kitchen counter, all while I squeal. He lifts the shirt. Seeing that I’m wearing nothing underneath, he grows more feral, holding me down.

He quickly pulls his cock out before rubbing it against my soft cunt. Chris groans at the wetness pooling out of me. Pushing my hips into the counter, he slams inside of my tight cunt. 

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re still so fucking tight.” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to blow his load right then and there. His hands grip my hips, causing bruises to form. My eyes roll to the back of my head as his thick cock hits my spot. His size causes a bulge to form in my tummy.

“Chri- oh, nmph, pleas- uhh”, my brain starts to shut off by how well he’s fucking me, his cock hitting everything inside me perfectly. Only the whites of my eyes can be seen, and drool starts to leave my mouth. “Aww, have you gone dumb, baby? Is my cock too big for you?” He grips my chin, still thrusting inside of me. “Such a dumb girl, you’re doing so good for me, such a perfect hole for me to use.” Chris groans, feeling his orgasm approach.

“C’mon, baby. You can give it to me, can’t you? You’re a good baby, c’mon bub. Oh, fuck, that’s it, baby.” He groans loudly, feeling my walls tighten around him as my orgasm crashes through me, triggering his. His cum shoots deep inside of me, filling me to the point it starts to leak out.

He strokes my sides, breathing heavily as his cock softens inside me. He slowly pulls out before grabbing a towel and wetting it with warm water, cleaning me up as I come down from the bliss my boyfriend had just given me. Chris then picks me up and carries me to the bedroom.

“You did so well for me, baby. But I’m not done with you yet.” I can feel his growing cock against my ass as he says this.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[whereireid]

𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐒 - 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

summary: Miles has to go on a mission for a few days. This upsets you, and Miles just hates to see you cry.

warnings: power imbalance ! — established dynamic; daddy!kink, breeding!kink p in v (lovemaking 🤭) creampie,, size difference, nipple play… reader dumbification (at first) pet names (bunny), up to you to decide if reader is human or na’vi

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics in the warnings trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag. This content is considered MATURE.

—

“What? My little bunny can’t stand being apart from her daddy for a few days?”

It’s pitiful how strongly you cling to Quaritch’s legs. Your face burrows between his thighs, his cargo pants growing wet the tears which smeared across your eyes minutes beforehand.

“I don’t want you to go.” It’s whiny, it’s bratty, and it’s defiant, but you cling to him with every ounce of strength that you have, whimpering as he moves forward as though you’re just an irritating fly buzzing around. “Please, daddy, don’t go.”

He tuts. It’s slightly annoying, how your clinging to him - it makes it incredibly difficult to move, rendering him able to only shuffle around his room. “The world is bigger than just us, bunny. Even your dumb baby brain can understand that, right?”

But as you look up at him through your wet lashes, your eyes which glisten unfallen tears and sparkle with hurt, Quaritch can’t help the slight pang of regret which strikes through his heart. “Okay.” He mutters softly, opting to stop in his tracks and finally pay attention to you. He picks you up easily - a positive of his new form is the fact that he is so much bigger than you are now, and he wraps your legs around his waist easily. “I’ll be back in a few days, bunny, I promise.“

Quaritch’s lips press softly against your neck, and usually you’d laugh and squirm, but today you just sniffle, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “Miles,” you murmur, the use of his actual name making his ears prick upwards slightly, “I really don’t want you to go. Don’t feel safe here without you here.”

“This is the safest place you can be in the world, bunny. You’re surrounded by all of these agents, trained to keep you safe.” His nose brushes against your neck softly, closing his eyes as he breathes in your scent.

You smell wonderful, like dove soap and honey and sea salt, and he groans as his own neck begins to grow soppy with your tears. “I just hate it when we’re apart.”

“I know you do. I hate it as well.” Quaritch prys you off of his neck gently, before rubbing his nose softly against yours. “But you know what, bunny?”

You don’t even realising that Quaritch is moving. You’re too busy being engrossed in your emotions, in the upset that churns through you, and you grip Quaritch’s shoulders and ask, “what, Miles?”

“I’m really, really good at giving goodbyes.”

You’re pressed against his bed in an instant, all ounce of clothing shredded away quickly, ripped apart by the hands of your partner. Your face floods with warmth and you try to cross your arms to cover yourself, but Quaritch catches your wrists - tutting, shaking his head no, staring at your naked frame.

“Do you want me to fuck you so you feel better?” Quaritch coos, dipping his head down to your neck and pressing gentle kisses against your breast, his tongue rolling against your left nipple. His teeth glides over it softly and you gasp, back arching into him and hips rutting downwards achingly. “Say the words, bunny, and I’ll give you the best goodbye of your life.”

“Miles,” you warn, mumbling strings of incoherent curses as he glides his tongue over your sensitive bud, mockingly nibbling at it softly, his thumb rubbing the goosebumps which prick at your arms.

“Not my name.” Just as your cunt begins to throb with an ache, Quaritch pulls away from your breasts, his fingers fumbling at his cargo pants, desperate to get out his cock. “Do you want me to fuck you so that you feel better? Yes or no, bunny, this isn’t a hard question.”

You pout pathetically, writhing when his pants drop and his cock slides through your slits, his tip edging towards your cunt’s hole but never actually pressing in. “Yes,” you answer, still somewhat bratty, but Quaritch stares at your flustered, tear-stained face and decides that him leaving is a bad enough punishment already.

God, Quaritch does hate to see you cry. You swallow thickly as he presses into you - your toes curling, crying out as he forces himself inside of you, your walls sheathing his cock perfectly. The tears start again - but it’s not because of your upset, but rather the pain. Quaritch is huge, thick and long and veiny, and it always take some adjusting to everytime the both of you have sex.

So you prepare yourself. But the rutting thrusts never come, and Quaritch instead pulls back slowly, creating a steady, even pace, which doesn’t have you screaming and writhing and squirting straight away.

He wants to drag this out, make you feel good, have you squirming beneath him and begging him to just let you cum.

“Bunny, I’m not going to hurt you.” Quaritch’s hands come down to your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly, his cock pushing into you with just enough pressure to have you gasping beneath him. “I want to make you feel good, okay? I want to make love to you, bunny.”

And his voice is so soft and his words are so meaningful that your mouth gapes open, your eyes glistening with ecstasy as his cock glides into you perfectly. And you’re so wet - the sounds of your slick bounces off of the confinements of his walls perfectly and sends an echoing vibration throughout his bones that makes his balls actually twitch, but this isn’t about him but rather about you.

“Daddy, you feel so good,” you say, because it’s true. Your legs are spread wide enough for Quaritch to get full access - your cunt is swallowing his cock, clenching down on him perfectly, and with every movement of his hips he jostles against the sensitive spot inside of you which sends shocks pulsating throughout you.

A ring of arousal is wrapped around the bottom of Quaritch’s cock, and he groans as your slick continues to paint the blue skin of his cock white. And he watches your pussy, how swollen and puffy it gets with every thrust, dribbling with slick like it’s crying and maybe it is. His eyes flicker up to your face, and he smiles to himself when he realises you’re no longer crying.

Rather, your eyebrows are furrowed and your nose is crinkling as you try to desperately chase the orgasm that is building up like a jenga tower. One deliberate thrust of his hips and he’ll have it all crashing down, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami.

But you’re not ready for that. Not yet. He needs you to feel perfectly, cock-drunk when you’re cumming, and you’re not quite there. So Quaritch - despite his twitching, raw cock which is desperate for release - opts to focus on you, leaning down slightly and pressing soft, loving kisses to your neck, his lips wrapping around your skin and sucking lightly.

“Gonna mark you up, bunny. Show everyone here that you’re my mate.”

“Everyone already knows,” you mumble pathetically, your eyes flickering shut as he rolls his hips against you perfectly, the tip of his cock relentlessly brushing against the sensitive spot inside of your cunt.

He hums against your neck, pulling away when the taste of metal finally floods his mouth. “Oh, they probably do from how they hear you scream my name most nights.” Squelches begin to fill the room as Quaritch fucks into you, his pace quickening slightly but still slow enough to be truly attentive. “But when I’m gone, I need the whole of Pandora to know who you belong to. Who not to fuckin’ mess with. Nothing will happen to you, bunny, because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” Your eyes flutter shut slightly and your walls clench as Quaritch rides you through to your orgasm. Shocks pulsate through you, and your muscles burn with pain, your throat tightening and chest heaving with fire. It feels so good - so perfect, his thick hands wrapped around your thighs as he takes you so perfectly, so well. Your vision goes black and blurry, and then you’re cumming against him, so hard.

“You’re mine,” Quartich affirms, his ears pinned back as he rides you through your orgasm. You’re not really in control of yourself - he can tell as you paint him white, soak him with your cum, and he can't stop drinking in your appearance. His cock is so sore and his balls are so desperate for release that as you tighten against him again, he lets go, spewing his thick cum inside of your cunt, watching as you mewl and gasp beneath him.

"That's it, bunny, let your daddy fill you up," Quaritch grunts, his jaw clenching as you stare up at him with starry eyes, all signs of your previous crying session gone, ecstasy painting your features.

And when he finally comes down from his high, listening to your pants, he embraces you, his nose nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. Sea salt, dove soap, and honey. "I'm not going anywhere, bunny." He whispers. "Not right now."

[malehypnofantasy]

Muscle Head

"Morning, muscle head,"

"Ugh.....what do you want? I literally pounded your ass to oblivion as if that's my girlfriend's tight sloppy pussy last night, what else now?"

"Can you calm down for me, muscle head?"

"Y---yes, sorry about the outburst. I just didn't think you'll wake up this quick,"

"This is 9 AM, this ain't early, muscle head. I noticed the damp towel so you already worked out. Well, last night was great, but don't you think you need to eat again after that draining workout before going on about your day? My feet can get used to a passionate sucking,"

And just like that, the muscular bodybuilder dropped to the floor and grabbed the nerd's hazel brown feet. The bodybuilder sucked each toes with the utmost care and attention while moaning in delight on how delicious of a treat it is and the nerd just smiled proudly while holding his laughter due to the ticklish sensation of the handsome bodybuilder's tongue and saliva.

The whole feet worship lasted for about 5 minutes before the bodybuilder went on another body parts. He lost himself to his Master's barely hairy pits and thin arms while his Master caressed his hair and whispered sweet nothings to his ear. Eventually, he blew his Master's cock before going on about his day as he got some brand partnership talk with one of his sponsor during lunch before another gym appointment with two clients and his own coach throughout the evening. During the stretch of hours he's outside of the house, he behaved normally as if he didn't just swallow the cum of his nerdy loner of a neighbor earlier today

Around 8 PM, the gym is already quiet as the bodybuilder already asked his coach for a 1-on-1 session in his prep to Mr. Olympia so the gym is closed early. When he's doing his set, someone called his coach, so the coach excused himself to pick it up. It's an unknown number but against his better judgement, he picked up

"Hello dumb tool. You must be in the gym, this is your Master speaking, Tobias. Is Aaron still with you?"

And just like that, the Coach reverted to his tranced and enslaved self as he answered monotonously that Aaron is indeed with him and he's currently working on his muscle and poses for next week's Mr. Olympia

"Well, Aaron's little brain probably forget that he's also my subject even though he's out of the house and I told him to be back home before 8:30. That's not going to happen now since this is 8:10 already so I want you to punish him, dumb tool. This is what you're going to do---"

A couple minutes later, the Coach, Tobias, stared at his disciple.

"Are you done with all the reps?"

"Yes, I'm done. Who called? You spent quite some times," he said while taking out one of his earbuds

"It's none of your business, muscle head," said the Coach smirking while Aaron's pupil went wide as his consciousness started slipping away and his entranced self started to resurface once again. But, he's wearing one of his earbuds still so he resisted and started begging

"Coach, what the fuck? Don't say that word again,"

"What? Muscle head? Why? Aren't you a muscle head? Stop resisting and let that bitch ass power bottom out, Aaron. Our Master already told me to punish you for breaking your curfew,"

"Wait.....our Master?? Oh no...." he said, still fighting even though his Coach bombardment of his trigger word clearly made this a losing battle

"This is 8:25, muscle head. Don't you remember your Master's order? Maybe that's why our Master called you muscle head, because your little brain barely have an original thought of its own. You know what, kneel. Kneel to the floor and start repent, muscle head. Beg for your Master's mercy,"

Aaron didn't want to, but his Coach grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed his form as his trembling knee eventually caved in to the pressure. The coach also grabbed the still plugged earbuds and then smirked as he whispered Aaron's trigger word with his gruff voice. Aaron looked up and eventually realized how glazed his Coach's eyes are, and then he started to be pushed to his own subconsciousness as the other Aaron's fully resurfaced

"Now worship me, muscle head. Master is on his way to pick you up and he ordered me to train you to become the biggest slut in this year Mr. Olympia. So let's take this slow so we can still have something to show to our Master when he eventually comes around,"

[alphajocklover]

Man I'm just some scrawny skater and always have been. I always make fun of meatheads at the gym for being obsessed with size and power, but recently I watched the Hulk movie and I think I get it... The idea of becoming unstoppable and reigning supreme.

My friends have been worried about me since I've stopped hanging out with me and started hitting the gym but I wish I could just Hulk out without the whole 'Hulk speak' part. Something about letting my inner beast take over like the other dudes in the gym is tempting. Could you help me out?

The thing everyone forgets about the hulk is that, after decades of being in the comics, Bruce Banner is far more complicated than the movies would suggest. Sure, it started out like all the movies do, with Banner being transformed into the Hulk by some terrible accident, switching between forms whenever angered, but over the years and the dozens upon dozens of different storylines the Hulk has become so much more complicated. Over the years Bruce Banner has gained more than just one alternate personality. There’s himself, of course, ther nerdy genius. Then there’s the classic hulk, dumb angry and strong. But there have been many others over the years. Joe Fixit, the gray hulk with the mind and personality of a Vegas mobster, Doc Green/professor Hulk, a version of the hulk with both the brains and the brawn, and Green Scar, a cunning warrior who ruled an entire planet (for a short time). These are only a few of his many different forms and personalities. So, if you wanna be like the Hulk… it’s going to be more than just the nerd and the hunk.

Let’s start with the basics. That is to say, let’s start with you. The Skater. Your original personality, the one who makes fun of meathead jocks and doesn’t give a fuck about being strong. Or at least didn’t until recently. But after watching that movie… something’s changed inside of you. It awakened parts of yourself you didn’t even know were there. And I’m not speaking metaphorically. It seems that certain triggers now cause you to change into other forms, other people. At first they presented themselves as the sudden urge to workout and desire to be a jock, but now they don’t need to be just urges. They’ve developed into full on identities. When you’re not in a different form you’ll revert to your original self, the skinny skater you used to be… but that won’t be very often. Your other selves are way too greedy to give the pathetic little skater his fair share.

Next is your hulk. But for you it’d be more accurate to call him the Hunk. Beefy, muscular, dumb and sexy as hell. He’s everything you used to hate and everything you now long to be. An alpha male, a jock, a himbo, a stud. Your inner beast. He's the one who goes to the gym with your new bros, flirts with anything that moves, and flexes almost constantly. He isn’t brought forth by anger like the real hulk is though. You turn into the Hunk when horny. Makes sense. Just like how the Hulk is always angry, the Hunk is always horny. A complete and utter fuckboy stud, and until you get control over his wild libido, you’ll be turning into him almost constantly.

After that is your Joe Fixit. Let’s call him Joe. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Just like in the original comics Joe isn’t summoned by an emotion, but by the night. He’s drawn out by the thrill of the nightlife, by clubs and secret backrooms and grinding against each other in the dark while the beat pumps through you like a drug. He spends the first half of the night as a bouncer, using his beef, strength and sometimes even his charm to keep certain people out. The second half he spends flirting with chicks, dancing at the club, partying, drinking, and on a good night fucking his latest babe in the clubs VIP room. The best part is that he never has to deal with a hangover, and whichever you who wakes up in the morning is always well rested.

Your next form is the one who has it all. Your Doc Green, the one with the brains and the brawn. He actually is a med student who is trying to become a doctor, so let’s call him Doc. Charming, manly, and muscular, but also sensitive, kind and intelligent. His trigger is less clear, but you know he comes out when you need him. Whether its for a shift at work, to charm a girl or guy you actually like enough to date and not just fuck, he’s there. What he’s really good at though is making money. For a med student he’s shockingly loaded, probably because he set up a very successful onlyfans account for each of you. You, the regular you, watch his videos sometime. You always turn into the Hunk before the video ends.

Finally is the warrior. The green scar. You just call him Jock. Because that’s what he is. He comes out fairly rarely, only when you’re feeling very competitive, usually during sports events and bodybuilding contests. He’s tough, rough, and never backs down. He’s surprisingly intelligent, but uses most of this intelligence on strategy and tactics. He’s the perfect team leader, and is incredibly dominant on and off the field.

Between the Hunk, Joe, Doc, and Jock, there isn’t much time for you anymore. But this is what you wanted, want you fucking love being each of them. You finally released your inner beast. All four of them.

**hey there! Hope you guys liked the story. I know most people go a different direction when it comes to ‘hulking out’ but I thought maybe something a little different like this would be more interesting. I hope whoever requested the story enjoys it, and that you don’t mind me showing off my inner comic book geek**

[kastelixa]

Instead of posting pointless callouts, use your brains.

tldr: some of yall need to learn what a fucking block button is

Genuinely what is so hard about pressing the block button? Like omg I promise no one cares about your fuckass callout posts or rants. Like some of these people are embarrassing as hell. If you get triggered by shit on the internet, it’s YOUR decision on wether or not you want to interact or block and move on with your life. Like brother, i’m not going to throw a fit and freak out over some post that just so happened to contain weird shit on it. You know what I do? I MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE. Because I got better shit to worry about than some random ass fic on tumblr.

You like ddlg? Cool. Doesn’t hurt me or anyone, I don’t care. You like incest? Good for you! You like noncon? Okay! Like do y’all see how easy it is to just smile and nod? Trust, policing what people post and enjoy, is not going to change shit. It’s just annoying as fuck. People pick and choose, because some of the shit you all consume wouldn’t be considered normal either, going by what you all say.

According to all of your logic, blood kinks, knife kinks, gun kinks, piss kinks, and etc. should not be normalized either. Murder shouldn’t be written about, especially gore. Which is fucking moronic, considering how RE is built on violence and gore. Please, learn how to separate fiction from reality.

Many people are fans of iconic slasher films and horror movies. Michael Myers is a rapist and a murderer. But guess what? No one CARES! Because he’s not REAL. I could go on with so much more examples, but you should get the point by now. Hopefully. Dark content is everywhere, why is it now that it’s weird? Makes no fucking sense.

I get that some of you don’t want your precious white boy’s image to be tainted or defamed or whatever, but trust, Leon Kennedy is not reading these fics nor would he care. ‘He’s not a rapist or into incest!’, well he also wouldn’t call you ‘sweetheart’ or whatever cheesy bs fluff fics contain nowadays. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? It’s all OOC. We KNOW he’s not a horrible person or an incredibly affectionate lover, but people write whatever they want. And no one’s going to stop them! Not the posts clogging up the tags or the weird asks.

There’s so much more, but the main arguments that keep being repeated are ‘it’s weird’ and ‘if you write about it, you’re probably going to do it in real life’. That take is so fucking stupid I can’t help but laugh. Same bs as white moms claiming their son is going to shoot some place out just because he plays violent video games. The whole point? SEPARATE FICTION FROM REALITY. And if you don’t like something? IGNORE IT? Why are you willingly engaging like omg are you stupid or dumb.

OH AND. ‘kids could see this!’ When will you all learn that no matter what you do, you cannot control what a person sees or decides to interact with. Especially minors. I’m willing to bet half of a smut writers followers are minors. Guess what? People lie all the time, about their ages and whatever else. It’s the fucking internet, of course they do. It’s not the responsibility of the blog owner to take care of children. The most they could do is plaster a big fat MDNI on their blog, that’s it. It’s the job of the parents to control what their kid watches or consumes, and we can’t exactly help with that. So don’t pretend to gaf about minors like omg.

Anyways. I’m too lazy to continue writing like I just needed to say this because some of you are slow. Me and many others are going to continue to write whatever the fuck we want. In conclusion? Block if you don’t like it LMAO. I don’t care about what some rando has to say on the internet.

[kittenhypnotized]

welcome to my bimblog!!! :3

minors, sissy and detrans blogs dni ♡ dont ask for pics pls, im not comfy with that

i post about my kinks here, so itll be mostly hypnosis, brainwashing, dumb/bimbo/objectification and a few others

im a trans aroace lesbian!!!

my triggers n kinks after the cut!!

TREAT - makes me feel pleasure and happyness and you can modify the strenght of it from 1 to 10

SHOCK - makes me feel an electric shock coming from my collar and you can modify the strenght of it from 1 to 10

saying something like *this* makes me feel it as if it was happening irl

saying something like [this] makes me say it in my head like it was my thought in the first place, and i wont know you sent the message

SLEEP - puts me in a light trance, saying it more times makes me go deeper

Horny: - will make me horny for a bit depending on a % of your choice from 0 to 100 (CANT GO OVER 100 OR BELOW 0)

Obey: - i will obey any command said after the trigger unless im uncomfortable with it

LOOP - will make me repeat the last sentence i said until you say RELEASE (ONLY WORKS IN DMS)

FREEZE - my mind and body will completely freeze until you say UNFREEZE, you may move my body around with the *this* trigger and i will not remember anything that happened while i was frozen

MIND WIPE - i will become completely mindless and obedient, you can give me new triggers while in that state (i wont add them to this list and you have to remember to reinforce them if you want them to stay)

ADAPT - saying it after a phrase will make me believe its 100% true for some time (you dont get to control how long it lasts)

Run: and Stop: will run these programs on me

Bimbo.sys while active, i will become a dumb horny bimbo

Reboot.exe will cause my brain to reboot when its run

Cow.sys, Kitty.sys, and Puppy.sys turn me into a cow, a kitty, or a puppy respectively

Paws.sys when active my hands will look and feel like paws

Dummy.sys whenever its active i will become dumber that ive ever been, even so dumb that it will be hard to talk

TitSlave.sys will turn me into a slave for tits

Clear.exe stops all programs and returns me to my normal default state when run

my kinks (might add or delete some over time):

hypnosis

brainwashing

mouth play

bimbofication

petplay

dumbification

objectification

dronification

praise

light degradation

gaslighting

intox play

cnc

[rroyalguarantee]

a ramble about arthur's relationship with dutch and hosea

haven't used tumblr in a while (let alone made an actual original post in who knows how long) but i can't stop thinking about that one interaction between dutch and arthur in lakay. specifically: "you sound like hosea." it breaks my heart, because dutch is right in saying that. as chapter six unfolds into the tragedy it is, arthur becomes more and more like hosea, and just like hosea, arthur tries and tries and fails to get dutch, stubborn and single-minded, to see reason.

one of my favourite journal entries, is where arthur says, "i love dutch like a father, but in many ways i love hosea more." arthur loved hosea. hosea saw arthur for who he was. knew arthur wasn't near as dumb as he liked to pretend he was. one of my favourite interactions between arthur and hosea is early on in chapter 3, very shortly after they get to clemens point. arthur walks by hosea sitting at a table, who calls out to arthur and asks what he thinks about dutch's plans. arthur's response is "you know me, i never did much thinking." to which which hosea says one of my favourite lines in the game, and it's a line that gives far more insight into arthur, hosea and their dynamic than you might first think.

dutch was arthur's father in a more abstract way. whether it was dutch's intention or not (and i believe, at the very least, it was later on), i always found his "you're like a son to me" comments to arthur to be very manipulative in nature, meant to reel arthur back in when he's concerned he's "getting away," so to speak. i have personal experience with men trying to get me on their good side by saying i'm like a kid to them, and maybe i'm projecting a little because of that, but the way dutch says that to arthur triggers the same alarm bells in my brain.

again: "i love dutch like a father, but in many ways, i love hosea more." say what you want, but hosea was arthur's true dad. he was his dad in all the ways that mattered. hosea knew arthur so well, he knew arthur was putting on "an angry moron act." in the video i linked, he sounds genuinely frustrated when he continues saying "but it's a thin enough veneer." he knows arthur is capable of more. is capable of being better, and i think hosea knew that things were doomed in the end, whether or not he would admit it.

arthur spent a lot of time, both early in the story and at the end, reflecting on what was happening, on himself, on the other gang members. i like to think he was unconsciously channeling hosea in chapter 6. honestly, the parallels are kind of painful. maybe that's, in part, why dutch was so adamant on not listening to arthur; because he reminded him, painfully, of hosea, his oldest and dearest friend. of course, that's not the only reason, but it makes sense, doesn't it? arthur is so much like hosea, and we see that more and more as the story progresses.