#Rotten Toe

[emveesl]

Skin: Rotten Toe. Asia _.Ice._ Lips: TOP1SALON – HD MIA LIPSTICK (Genus) V1 HUD (@ Harajuku) Eyes: {S0NG} Flora Eye // Purple Hair: [^.^Ayashi^.^] Bonny hair (@WCF) Choker: MIWAS/ Dae Choker #FATPACK Jacket: MIWAS / Rocket Jacket #Fatpack Shirt: dami ‘shirring look’ *A01 maitreya (@ Kustom9) Pants: {ViSion} // Leather Pant Taylor (@ Uber until tomorrow!) Boots: {ViSion} // Leather Boots Taylor (@ Uber until tomorrow!)

[cheaplolita]

[calaathmaza]

I hear celehar is supposed to get an apprentice in the next book and I hope to fuck that it's a Stinky Girl ™

[tsukidrama]

this is literally the hardest thing I've ever had to write in my entire

[1-800-roflmao]

Ever since @voidcat drew their Holy as a cat, this is what has invaded and settled comfortably in my mind. Kitty!Holy! Doodled them a few times for some warm ups!

[jigsawtits]

whoever has my voodoo doll for the love of GOD give me a break i am Begging

[cuntlordsblog]

feeling like i have brain maggots eating my rotten brian soup

[ddonggeun]

oct16 ➡️ jun18

[xenonz]

Where’s that post about how Rick Rolls did more for internet safety training than anything else 

It's hard to describe to gen z how fucking insane the early internet was. Imagine if every time you clicked a link you just kinda accepted that it might be another unedited video of a Taliban execution.

[slowlybutobvious-jikook]

Negative asks like insulting a member wont be answered and will be deleted immediately.

Nice try u rotten toe

[charnelhouse]

press the gas and ride

gif by @riley-keoughs pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (nicknamed Dolly) word count: 2.4k+ summary: comfort in a car warnings: hurt/comfort. smut. angst. A/N: this takes place a month after teacups, but no need to read. tlou ep 3 spoilers. this is really just trash smut. Joel Miller Masterlist

She watched Joel's expression buckle as he read the letter. His brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. She looked away, suddenly feeling intrusive. She'd never come here with Joel. His trips to Bill were semi-frequent, but this was the first time he’d brought her. Of course, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought they'd be walking into a dead house. 

The fresh air through the open front door bullied the stench of rotten meat and vegetables. The dinner on the table buzzed with flies. There were starched, ironed napkins folded in triangles with lovely patterns of woodland creatures. She traced the tiny squirrel sewed into the fabric before studying the label on the wine bottle. She was intent on busying herself. She wanted to give Joel space, but he'd been more paranoid than usual since the attack a month ago. 

I don't want you out of my sight.

She hadn't stopped aching. Brutal. Horrible. She'd slaughtered two people, and her mind continued to spin with the memories of it. She was unable to remove the taste of blood from her tongue. She could not unhear the shuddering death rattle or unfeel the way the man beneath her had wriggled and then spasmed like an electrocuted rodent.  

Joel had also seemingly lost his cool that night. After he'd tucked her into bed, she'd heard him smashing up the first floor. In the morning, he'd refused to let her see what he had done and when she fell apart again (in the safety of their QZ apartment), Joel wouldn't have it.

He'd crouched so they could be eye-level, large hand cupping the back of her skull. "They got what they deserved. Nothin' more than that."

He was right, but teaching her head to stop was easier said than done. 

She scanned the dining room before settling on the mahogany cabinet full of delicate china. When she noticed the powder blue and white teacups, she winced. She couldn't escape it. Everything triggered her. She needed to learn to grow up and out of her pain because it wouldn't serve her and certainly not Joel. He bulldozed through everything, and she had to follow suit. 

Joel cleared his throat. He had stopped reading and was staring out the window, far away. She intended to bring him back to shore. 

"They have a car?" she asked, and Joel's eyes swept toward her. Inscrutable. 

"Yeah." He scraped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

***

Joel guided her to a guest room, instructing her to clean up and be ready in an hour.

He'd found her a box of women's clothes that she happily dug through. The very idea of new outfits felt celebratory- even if they smelled a bit stale.

The musty fabric reminded her of her grandmother's closets. She'd used to hide behind the wool coats and leather shoes, toes snug in the sea-green carpet. She'd get light-headed on mothballs. 

Her family was gone. A long time gone.

She supposed Joel was the only person who really gave a shit about her well-being. If she died, he’d have the memory of her, at least. She wouldn’t be dust.

After she showered, she yanked on a sundress and sneakers. Joel would undoubtedly say something, but she was past caring. She stared at herself in the mirror, petting the floral-print bodice. She twisted side to side, the breeze from the open window licking between her legs and under her arms. 

She thought of Bill and Frank in the next room and abruptly stopped. Morbid. Strange to be so fine rummaging through a house when two dead men were feet away. Their window was open, too, and she wondered if the sweet brush of cool air had cradled them into the next life. She stepped forward, pressing her ear against the wood. She listened, tapping her fingertips over the wallpaper. 

Silence. She tapped again. Waiting.

"What are you doing?"

She whirled around to find Joel standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. He'd combed his wet hair back, but a single strand boyishly drifted over his forehead. The scars across his torso gleamed white under the naked afternoon sun.

"Nothing." She shifted her weight, the dress swishing with her. 

He frowned as he scrutinized her outfit. "You can't wear that."

"Because?"

"Because you can't do shit in a dress that short," he replied flatly. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I just wear this today? It's-fuck-it's the prettiest thing I've worn since-since I don't know." She averted her eyes, feeling childish at her reasoning.

Because I want to be beautiful for once. I want to look beautiful for you and not covered in grime, blood, and jeans, two sizes too big. 

The expression on Joel's face flickered between irritated and puzzled. She thought he might stride across the room and tear it off her. 

Once in a while, he'd give her shit about things like this-pecking at her for enjoying luxuries that didn't exist anymore. He'd call her a spoiled brat when he really wanted to tick her off. Instinctively, she knew he was doing it, so she'd snap at him, deal him back with a rough hand. 

He always won and she assumed he’d win here, as well.

She expected him to say no, but he took a breath instead. Running his hand across his chest, he massaged an old bullet wound hidden in the sparse hair before turning back into the hall. White flag. 

Then, his voice pitched so low it grazed the floor. "Fine."

***

The letter must have softened him. Repeatedly punched him until he was a tender, pliant piece of meat. He hadn't even twitched when she snatched two guns too massive for her off the basement wall or smuggled a box of wine into the car.

His hands scraped over the steering wheel when he slid into the front seat. He stared blankly at the dash and then the manicured driveway. The grass was just beginning to creep away from the lawn, encroaching onto the asphalt. 

She wasn't sure how to deal with this. He usually seemed to take death in stride. His grief was like a chalky, oversized pill, but he swallowed it nonetheless. He'd made it clear that he didn't even like Bill yet...

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Take your feet off the dash," he ordered stiffly.

She scowled but did as she was told, figuring she didn't need to push Joel Miller’s buttons again today. She settled into her seat, hands prim in her lap as she waited for him to begin driving.

He didn't. 

He continued to sit silently, seemingly unable to turn the car on. The hand around the steering wheel tightened, his scabbed knuckles flexing and paling beneath the windshield. His nostrils flared, and she suddenly knew:

He was going to crack. He was going to burst down the middle, and he needed her. 

Abruptly, she crawled over the console, gripping him by the lapels of his button-up to balance her weight. The fresh clothes looked good on him-the plaid green shirt fit his broad frame like a glove. She nearly toppled into the door before he grasped her wrist roughly. “What are you-"

"Shh," she murmured, straddling his lap. He stared at her. 

Joel wore his grief in the creases of his face. His pain. His anger. He was beautiful to her. Sexy in a way that couldn't be understood. Older, too. Older than any man she'd ever had before, but it wasn't like she'd had that many men, to begin with. 

"I'm here," she whispered, her thighs squeezing around his own. His mouth parted, exhaling. 

She wondered what undercurrents ran beneath his skin-his armor. What did he think about? How did he see her? 

She lifted herself onto her knees, and Joel's hands automatically seized her hips. Unbuttoning his jeans, she tugged the zipper down, and his eyes found hers. Good. Coyly, she licked her palm before gripping his half-hard cock. She stroked him slow, glancing down to watch the blush-red head disappear in the circle of her fist. He shuddered, hips lifting a few inches off the leather seat. 

She intended to be fast about this. Pleasurable consolation was a language she knew Joel understood. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” she said and he shivered under her touch. He remained silent as the grave though his eyes never left hers. Perhaps, he was struck dumb by her forwardness.

She clutched his shoulder as she braced herself before sinking down and guiding him into the heat of her cunt. She'd worn the sun dress for a reason. 

Joel made a gritty, strangled noise as she took him to the hilt, lowering herself until his thighs were flush with her ass. The band of his jeans grazed her skin, the metal of the zipper catching flesh. His nostrils flared as she tightened, walls spasming because he was always a little too big. 

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, forcing his face against her chest. He sighed deeply as she rocked forward, his fingers biting into her waist. It could hardly be called a fuck, just her grinding down and him pushing his cock upward until he couldn't claim another centimeter. 

She cradled the back of his skull, rooting her nose around his damp hair that smelled like clover and a scent she recalled from before - something generic and artificial like Irish Spring. 

Finding leverage was proving difficult, but she did her best. She rose up, keeping him halfway inside her before sliding down. Repeat. In her defense, she’d never fucked anyone in a car before.

One of her hands snuck out the open window to grasp the top of the car. It was dusty, and she had this ridiculous worry that maybe someone would crawl into the garage and bite her hand. She ripped it back to cup the side of Joel's face instead. His mouth twitched, his lids heavy like he was drunk and dazed. He didn't even care she had smeared old car dust into his beard. He'd have to shower again. She would, too, and she wanted to laugh at the strange coincidence of paving new roads in their relationship through hot showers. After all, he'd wrenched her away from a panic attack in that house outside Boston. He'd held her in the shower, mouth brushing her ear.

"You did a hell of a job."

"You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

She swelled from the memory of Joel's praise. She wanted to pay him back.

"I've got you," she murmured against his temple, nails tracing a line across his scalp through his thick damp grays. "I've got you, Joel."

He nodded-or she thought he did. His gestures were always so vague. Sometimes he'd hold her down and fuck her brains out while telling her how much he wanted to kill her for being stupid and acting recklessly. It would then always end with him possessively clutching her body to his.

You send mixed signals, Joel. 

What?

You said you wanted to kill me, and now you won't let me go.

I never said that. 

She felt him twitch inside her, his mouth dragging across her clavicle before he abruptly shoved the top of her dress down and latched to her nipple. He sucked it, tongue darting over the nub and causing her pussy to clench around his length.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled. 

"I know," she said. 

Their grief sat between them - a weight strung about their ankles, dragging them down to the deepest parts of whatever was left. She knew blips of his pain as he knew hers. He comforted her in the ways he understood, not necessarily with words but with actions. She could do that for him now, remind him that he had her.

She rolled her hips, and he groaned, his breath puffing against her sternum. She snagged him tighter and dug her grip into his skin like she was holding fast to a rock in a riptide. The car was so small, the steering wheel bumping against her lower back, and you could hear everything.

The rustle of fabric. The squelch of her sex and slap of skin. 

Finally, Joel planted his feet and began to drive up into her. Short, fast strokes that hit just right. It almost hurt. It gave her a belly ache, but everything else fell away. The car filled with his low, subdued grunts and her whimpers. 

He secured his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking to the base of her scalp to embed his thumb into the muscle beneath her ear. They were tangled in such a way that it would have looked like anything - they could be devouring each other, feasting on the other's throats as they fucked fast and sad.

Somewhere along the way, Joel tilted his head and demanded her mouth.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue hot and aggressive as it wrestled with hers. Exploring. "Baby," he sighed against her slippery teeth. "Fuck."

Joel, her man of few words, but just the right ones. She still didn't call him anything but his name. Nothing else fit him.

"Shit," she gasped as he delivered a harsh thrust. Stay with me. Stay focused.

Her climax paraded around her belly, kicking up dirt and shouting out toward a faceless crowd. It was turning in circles, unable to find the finish line. He was screwing her tectonic plate deep, but the friction wasn't enough for her to get off. It didn't matter. This was about him. Not her. 

He gripped her hip and shoved her down before spearing up, grinding in slow, determined circles. He left her mouth to find her throat, sucking methodically at her pulse. 

It didn't take too long after that. He grumbled something into her jaw (maybe, Dolly) before his hips stuttered beneath her. She felt him fill her, warmth blooming outward. She'd have to deal with that, but for now, she worshiped him. He lifted his face, flushed from exertion - golden, bright, and devastating as his dark eyes searched hers.

“You’re good,” she praised, pressing her lips to his chin.

When she crawled off his lap, she was sticky between her legs. He huffed, tugging at the edge of her dress as if trying to hide her modesty. 

No one's around here, Joel.

No one. It's you, and it's me. It's us. 

She was sore as fuck, like she'd been smacked in the crotch. Her orgasm was lost somewhere, hanging by a few threads, but she didn't want it. Instead, she craved the longing-the lingering frustration of her missed pleasure. She brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed her dress.

"That was-"

She was hauled back over to him. Their brows bumped, noses jamming together before Joel kissed her hard. When he finally pulled away, he asked, "You feel safe with me?"

"What kind of question-

"You feel safe with me?" he urged, hands seizing her cheeks. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened at that house a month ago. The teacup house. Or was this because of what had been written in that letter beyond Bill and Frank's goodbyes?

She felt that if she probed, he would splinter. It wasn't her business. She told him the truth. 

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. "Yes," she assured him. "I always feel safe with you."

Joel took a breath, nodding once, before pulling away. He stabbed the keys into the ignition, twisting them north, and the car rumbled to life.

When they left the garage, she watched the walls creep over him again. 

[cheaplolita]

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

ALPHABET BOY- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Brothers Best Friend! Steve x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: you despise steve and his constant teasing with you- the younger sister of his best friend bucky barnes. little do you know that teasing is flirting, and it comes in handy when you’re trapped at a costume party with no way home. 

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, daddy kink, petnames, slight breeding kink, praise kink, swearing, size kink (steve is like 6′5), dry humping, slight degradation kink, lots of teasing, alcohol and drugs mentioned 

“i'm not a little kid now, watch me get big now- spell my name on the fridge now with all your alphabet toys.... you won the spelling bee now, but are you smarter than me now? you're the prince of the playground little alphabet boy” - alphabet boy, melanie martinez 

You were sick of him. 

Sick, sick, sick. 

He plagued your brain, consuming you whole like some flesh-eating maggot. The thought of him was enough to send shivers down your back, make your stomach curl in on itself like rotten milk. 

Steve scared you. 

He scared you in a way you didn’t even know was possible, in a way that was rooted deep in your core. The embarrassment you got whenever he was around sent you spiraling. 

You were the shy, timid and innocent little sister to Bucky, though you weren't so little, he and his friends always thought of you that way. 

I’m not a little kid! You’d often whine to him as he teased you, times never changing. Steve was Bucky's best friend, a brother to him if you will. Always lurking around, always popping up in places you'd least expect him. 

He was the character that was always slouched on the couch when you got home, acting as if it were his house, and you were the guest. You might as well be, with the way he teased you. 

Always making your cheeks heat whenever he mocked you, called you names, picked on you for your cutesy, little pink outfits. It made your toes curl in their socks, your hands balling into little fists as if you were fighting the urge to swing at him. 

He’s being mean to me again Bucky! You’d often call from your bedroom as Steve towered over you, leaning against your bedroom door frame- eyeing you up like you were the star dish on the menu. 

Let him! He’d call back, making Steve’s smirk grow even wider. 

It was torture, being around him. Any comments you shot back to him ended up backfiring almost immediately. 

You were smaller, dumber, younger- didn’t you know better? 

No, you wanted to snap back. No, I don’t know any better. Because I’m stubborn and he’s being a tease. 

Steve would build you up like building blocks, just to bring you back down again. Yet you refused to be away from him for too long. Yes the thoughts made you feel sick, tummy starting to ache as you thought of his cool, stern gaze, that cocky smile and biceps as large as your head.

 It made your thighs clamp, palms turn clammy when you thought of the happy trail that lingered down his abs whenever he’d stretch and yawn while him and Bucky were watching the game, knowing you were watching from behind your little hiding spot. 

Damn him. Damn him and his mocking, pretentious ways. Damn him for always winning you back over, with little sweets and treats and the odd compliment, or attention he knew you so desperately craved.

 It was obvious, how drawn to him you were, like a lost puppy. Though you tried to fight it, you were always rewarded with a snarky comment. 

You’re so dumb. So dumb, such a baby. 

You could never win, when it came to Steve. He was the golden child in everyone’s eyes, always doing the right thing, always working so hard and succeeding! You were just trying your best, getting the soft, sad smile along with it. 

They didn’t see how Steve treated you. They didn’t notice the sly looks he gave you, knowing he had beat you at every hand he dealt. 

He was the prince of the playground. You were just a pawn for him, something to direct his mocking, sarcastic ways towards. Though you refused to cry in front of him, knowing that would irk his comments even more.

 I’m just teasing you rabbit. Don’t be so sensitive. Was his form of an apology. And you ate it up every single time, licking the plate and utensils before seconds.

 It was cat and mouse between the two of you, always pulling each other's leg. Or hair, in his case. The sexual attraction you felt towards him was undeniable, nonetheless. You were drawn to him and his charming ways, the facade he put on for others. 

How could no one see him? The real him? 

The Steve who always trailed his hand up your leg to pinch your thigh tightly when you were forced to sit next to him, the Steve who always looked at you as if you were his next meal. 

He was an angel to the world, but his halo was anything but bright. You thought of him now, in your own set of angel wings- costume party in full swing. It was late, the hour growing long and you wanted nothing more than to stumble home. 

Even if that meant taking yourself. 

The alcohol was buzzing in your system, the bottle drowning you way past your limit. You were such a sucker for peer pressure, wanting nothing more than to please others. 

So you drank, and drank, and drank until you were a babbling mess, the world seeming to bend over backwards, flipping each and every way as you adjusted your little wings and took another sip of some fruity cooler. 

It was so saccharine you swore your teeth started to tingle as it swished around your mouth. 

You needed to leave. 

It was too stuffy and hot, bodies all packed together as the wallpaper glistened from the low lights, and the smoke started to cover everything like a shield. Nobody listened to you, your friends long gone as you attempted to beg for an exit, an escape route for you to stumble down. 

Everyone had morphed into another being- you weren't sure who was who anymore, with all the masks and makeup. It was not your scene. Not at all. 

Somehow, after a few loud, floor-shaking songs later you had managed to stumble over to a hallway, slowly guiding yourself past the couples who were dry-humping eachother against the picture frames, kissing with so much teeth and tongues it was like they were having a battle on who would gasp for air first.

The red solo cup had slipped from your nibble fingers, clattering against the hardwood and splashing red up against the walls. 

It looked like blood. 

The cool air hit you like a train on a track as you stepped out into the dark abyss, large forest looming in front of you as the porch light flickered. The shadows of the trees looked like clawed fingers against the grass, the gust of wind causing goosebumps to spread up your arms. 

You needed to get home. 

There was a trail that connected this property to yours, though it was long and windy. The smart thing to do was to call Bucky, explain to him the situation. 

I’m drunk. Like really drunk. And I’m scared and I need someone to hold just for a few minutes while they take me home. It was a mistake and I’m so sorry, I really am. 

But he wouldn't hold you. He probably wouldn’t even pick you up, saying it was your fault for getting in this situation, so you should find a way out of it.

 No, no that was intrusive thoughts talking. You couldn't tell the difference anymore. Everything in your brain was swimming, the world stretching and warping like a fushigi ball. 

Bucky would pick you up. Of course he would. But you knew the consequences that would come with it. Which is exactly why you put another foot forward, pushing yourself off of the old, weathered siding. 

You would be treated like a child, mocked at for being so careless. Well, he could shove that mocking up his ass. You were tired of him and his friends always being so mean, always bullying you because you were seen as careless. 

You didn’t need any company, but it didn’t mean you were opposed to it. A shadow, one even more intimidating than the towering trees appeared, lingering behind you. It was stretched, shoulders wide as you peered down at it. 

“You shouldn't be out here all alone.” the voice murmured, low and deep as you turned. Your eyes met with a strangers, mask covering his face- deep looming pulled eyes staring at you. 

Ghostface. 

You had seen that movie with Steve and Bucky, though you had never been a fan of scary movies. “It’s not safe for little girls like you, you know.” he drawled on.

 It should've scared you, his sudden interest in you. He had appeared out of nowhere, quite literally from nowhere, keening to the likes of you. But it made you feel special, knowing this mystery man was talking to you.

 “I’m not alone, you’re out here.” you giggled, stumbling forward towards his 6’5 frame. You felt a weird desire to be in this mans arms- though there was no doubt about it that it was the booze that rushed to your head. 

“You should be scared angel. Not stumbling towards a stranger, all doe eyed like that.” 

“But you seem nice!” you chirped out, forgetting your original mission to make way back to your home. You liked this man. You liked Ghostface. 

“ Mhm you’re lucky I am. I take pity on little girls like you.” His arm extended, tight black henley sleeves rolled up to his bulging biceps. Mystery mans hand was warm to the touch, the brush of skin against your own sent heat licking down your spine. It was then you noted the tattoo that was all too familiar, the twist and curves of black ink that bent around his wrist like a snake. 

Steve. 

“Steve?” The hand that shrugged off the mask confirmed your suspicions, long blonde hair curling at the nape of his neck, blue eyes sparked with mischief. 

“You really shouldn't be so vulnerable, ya know. What if I actually was a stranger? It’s dangerous.”

 The scolding began. You were too dazed out to fight back, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry, I really am. Just- just don’t tell B-bucky!” you hiccupped, praying he would help you. This was the first time you had needed Steve. Had wanted him to stay, and actually care. 

He clucked his tongue. “I won’t. But we need to get you home, yea? Silly girl. Silly, silly girl.”

 “I’m sorry.” was all you could mutter, stumbling as he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, fighting off the chill of the night air.

 “Don’t be stupid. You weren't thinking of going in the woods alone, were you? There really must not be a brain in there after all.” he mocked, taunting you as he guided you onwards, towards the creaking trees, their limbs dangling down like claws that would scratch your skin lean off, leave you bare and vulnerable. 

You took a deep breath, the fresh air heightening your senses as a twig snapped from under his weight, a soft tune leaving his lips as he whistled. You shuddered, leaning into him more, his larger hand in yours squeezing your digits a little tighter.

 “You scared angel?”

 “N-no. Never scared.” you lied, staring straight ahead, though you couldn't see much besides his flashlight beam aimed at the little path in front of you. 

“Not even when I spooked you that one time when you were with that pink bunny stuffie in your bedroom? What were you doing with it anyways?” 

Humping it to the thought of you, you wanted to confess but kept your lips shut. 

“Having a tea party.” you grumbled, to which he laughed. It brought you a sense of comfort in the moment- that laugh. It wasn't mean, or directed. It was just easy, carefree, and light as it bounced off an invisible sound barrier.

 He wasn't laughing at you. He was laughing with you.

 “Cute. You’re so cute bunny. You know that?” 

“No.” you giggled, cheeks heating as hot as the sun, whether it was from the booze or his affections, you didn’t know. It seemed like time was stretched and warped, the path ending as soon as it started when you were with Steve. 

You felt weirdly protected with him near, the warmth of his body drawing you closer, the scent of his cologne making your head spin as he murmured to you. It was hard to comprehend what he was saying, your mind in a different place as you stumbled into your backyard. 

The lights were off, the structure appearing empty and hollow as you stared up at it. “Looks like Bucko wouldn't of came anyways sweetheart.” he sighed, noting his car wasn't in the driveway, the doors appearing locked.

 “Does that mean I’m alone?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice. You didn’t think you could be alone tonight. You were too anxious and on edge to deal with the warped shadows, bending and following you like a contortionist. 

And if you puked, who said you’d be able to get off the bathroom tiles? 

“I’m staying with you angel. You’re too stupid to think for yourself right now.” 

You fought your urge to stick your tongue out at him, but you knew he was right. He teased you for having next to no thoughts in your brain all the time, but this time it was actually true.

 “Let’s go.” he tugged at your arm, causing u to stumble after him as he made his way towards the back door. His legs were so much longer than yours, stride extensive and full of authority. Steve knew exactly where to go, digging the key out of the hiding spot and unlocking the door. 

You didn’t even know how he knew where it was. You surely didn’t remember.

 The light flickered on, humming softly as it illuminated the little breakfast nook. “Steve why do you hate me?” you blurted out, hiccuping as you bent down to unbuckle your shoes, kicking them off by the door.

 His face contorted into a look of confusion as he peered down at you. “I don’t hate you bunny. Far from it.” 

You just nodded, taking his word for it. He was stumped by your level of compliance, as you normally would fight or bicker with him whenever he made a claim. But you were quiet, humming a little song as you trudged towards the stairs, hands out in front of you to guide you instead of turning on the rest of the lights.

 “Stev-” you gasped as suddenly your body was lifted from the ground, swung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your head spun as you stared at the world from a much taller height, body squirming as he moved.

 A hand smacked your thigh that poked from under your little dress, making you yelp. “Stop squirmin girl. You're not walking up these stairs.” he grumbled, making the trudge up the rickety wooden stairs, hand rubbing your thigh as you felt your panties start to dampen. 

His hand was so warm, so nice as it stroked your skin, even when it stung. 

“I’m fully- fully able to walk up.” you slurred and he chuckled.

 “Mhm I don’t think you should think for yourself right now baby bunny.” he teased, and you giggled. Your bedroom door opened with a creak, and he walked you past the pink walls, past the frilly whites and endless stuffies as he plopped you down on your bed. 

You laid back with a sigh, tracing the soft sheets with your fingers, sinking into them as you closed your eyes. Steve felt himself getting harder and harder the longer he gazed at you, so soft and delicate- like a little doll. 

You were so in your element, basking in the comfort of the silk and cotton, just savoring how fuzzy you felt in the moment. 

“Can you help me with my costume Stevie?” you whispered, eyes fluttering open to smile at him. He thought he was dreaming. He needed to be pinched. 

But you needed his help, craved for his touch again as you lay there- almost helpless. You swung your leg up, toes curling against his abdomen in your socks, stretching your arms over your head.

 “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he murmured, tugging at each sock, peeing them away from your skin to reveal your bubblegum pink nail polish. 

“Mhmm so tired though Stevie. I can’t do anything.” 

“Oh I know.” he smirked, hands slowly inching their way up towards your thighs, fingers walking their way across your skin. 

“Just need your help, you gotta take care of me.” you giggled, back arching as he tugged at your dress, pulling off the rest of your costume. Your breasts were bared, shining in the pale moonlight as the air whooshed past his teeth. 

No bra.

 “Fuck. Fuck fuck.” he murmured as you giggled softly, batting your eyelashes at him as if you were a schoolgirl. “What’s the matter Stevie?” you asked, reaching for him, nails softly scraping against his biceps. 

“You’re so fucking adorable angel. Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah?” you smiled, grabbing his hand, guiding it down towards your lacey underwear that was now soaked, letting his fingers circle your button through the fabric. 

You moaned, back arching against the sheets as he smiled, that wicked grin that drove you wild. You couldn't help yourself. You were on cloud nine, head in the heavens from the way he looked at you, the way he touched you. 

Hands slipped up to grope your breasts, massaging them, squeezing each nipple as your mouth parted into an O shape, moaning his name. His hands slipped under your undergarments, fingers coaxing you open as your legs fell limp- purely under his control. Submissive and willing for him. 

It drove him wild, the sweet, innocent little sister of his best friend- the person he had craved for years was now under him looking like a doll.

 “Gotta open you up first princess. Don’t wanna hurt your sweet, little hole hm?” he whispered, thumb circling your clit, so sensitive under his flesh, aching for him. 

You were just so needy, practically begging him- words slurring as you humped his hand, mindlessly reaching for one of your stuffies to cling to as your body rode him. 

“Mhmm so… daddy..” you gasped out, emitting a low growl from his lips. You moaned into the fur of the animal, to which he quickly ripped away. 

“Don’t hide your sweet little noises for daddy baby, don’t you know better? We’re all alone here, just the two of us. But even if we weren't, wouldn't you want everyone to know how good daddy's fingers feel stuffed in your cunnie?” 

You nodded viciously, gasping for breath as heat licked down your spine, burning bright in your core as he rocked into you deeper. It was taken away in an instant, a startled gasp leaving your lips in disappointment before you saw his hands fumbling with his belt, muttering under his breath. 

“Fuck I’m sorry angel but I can't take this anymore.I need- I need to be inside you I’m-” 

You whimpered as he tugged down his bottoms as quickly as the two of you had entered this tangled affair, barely having a second to process what was happening before he was in you, and he was in you deep. 

Plunging straight to the hilt, hands clawing at his biceps as you moaned, cried his name so sweetly he almost combusted right then and there.

 “I’m so sorry angel I just- been waiting too long, FUCK you’re so goddamn tight n wet..” he murmured, head drooping low as he breathed you in, watched the way your juices coated his cock as he slipped out just slightly, only to plunge in even harder. 

You clung to him so nicely, as if you were just made for him and only him, delicate and dainty. It was so easy to make you drool, so easy to watch you melt deeper into the mattress as he used you as his own personal fleshlight, muscles tensing and flexing as they adjusted you to the exact positions he wanted you in. 

“You’re so good to me Stevie. So, so good, filling me…” you sighed, eyes hazy and glazed over as you peered up at him, admiring the man you hated with a passion, but the one you also craved like a drug. 

He was so careful with you, guiding your tipsy body home, but so rough and eager with you now, as if he was feral.

 “Stevie?” you asked softly, face distorting slightly the longer he looked at you, confusion now smeared across your face like a kids finger painting. “Stevie?” 

You were muffled- trapped underwater. Murky. 

His eyes flew open with a start, meeting yours as he blinked the fuzz away. His hand was so close to your body, just mere inches away from the place he had been touching you in his dream. 

“Mhm?” he asked, noting he had somehow ended shirtless in your bed, the girly bedsheets wrapped around his low midriff, and you fought not to stare down at his happy trail. 

“You were dreaming I think. Mumbling something.” you slurred, head smacking down back onto the pillow as he stared at you, your eyes now closed once more. 

He didn’t fully remember what had happened. He had teased you, felt you up, and helped you home. But now he was in your bed, despite the fact the two of you bickered constantly, and nothing had happened. 

Your little skimpy pj’s were still on. His boxers were on. Though he wished more than anything they were off, that everything was off and he could feel you the way he had ten seconds earlier. 

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you fell back into a drunken slumber, hand slipping over to cup your warm cheek before he could stop himself. 

[bitsauur]

pretty (m) (f)

pairing: ex boyfriend! hyunjin x f!reader

cw: nsfw mdni, unprotected sex, spit play, mating press, creampie, swearing, sucking fingers, a little dumbification, a little praise kink, pinch of angst, slightly toxic

edit: can't stop thinking about how baekhyun's love again is perfect for this small fic <3

"Don't you want me back? want my cock?" Hyunjin coaxes you, rubbing the fat tip of his cock against your folds, coating himself with your slick.

"I'll give you anything you want," he murmurs. You feel the stretch of his tip inside your pussy, making you throw your head back, eyes rolling from pleasure, because it's been too long—too long without his perfect cock teasing your aching cunt.

Hyunjin's eyes doesn't leave your face as he caresses your cheek endearingly, pressing his forehead against yours. "Tell me you want me back," he whispers softly against your lips.

You mewl and claw the sheets, still not giving him an answer.

But Hyunjin is patient. He's gone without you for months—he wouldn't mind waiting a few more minutes for you to take him back, he just needs to convince you with his cock.

"C'mon baby, hmm? tell me," he says as he presses his lips on your hot skin, giving into your pleas, wanting to spoil you rotten by slowly slipping the head of his cock in your pussy.

"H-Hyunjin please," you hiccup, your nails clawing into his biceps.

"It's Jinnie," he corrects.

"J-Jinnie—" you rasp, as you suddenly feel his dick twitch against your folds.

"Want you, please?" you plea, your pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, cunt hungry for Hyunjin's dick.

Hyunjin grunts and kisses your cheek. "Good girl," he praises you.

He grips the back of your thighs, folding your knees to your chest as he slowly sinks his thick cock inside your warm cunt.

"Oh fuck—s' fucking tight," Hyunjin groans, the familiar feeling of being buried in your perfect pussy turns his brain into mush. "missed this so much--" he chokes out.

You whimper, your body shuddering as he bottoms out and you feel his balls slapping against your ass.

"L-Love you," you babble without thinking, wrapping your legs around his waist, the feeling of being full with his cock turning you into a horny mess.

Hyunjin's expression softens, momentarily forgetting how dumb you can get on his cock.

"Love you more," he sincerely says, coming down to your face to give you a kiss, dick twitching at your sudden declaration. He breaks the kiss, pushing back strands of hair sticking to your pretty face as he looks at you with pure adoration.

You whine and tighten your legs around his waist, wanting to leave no space between your bodies.

"Love you so much," he coos, dragging his dick against your walls to slam his cock back inside your pussy. "gonna—fuck—gonna give you everything,"

Hyunjin looks at you endearingly as he pumps his cock deep into you, your eyes brimming with unshed tears and your lips quivering.

He loves this position, he realizes. He could see every detail of your pretty face—and it filled up every sense of yearning he had for you when you left him.

A tinge of possessiveness creeps over hyunjin, the thought of you leaving him again making him want to bury his cock even deeper into you, wanting to make you drunk on his cock to even think of leaving him. Hyunjin's hands move to your jaw, prying your mouth open.

Your body responds quickly without him having to tell you, your lips parting and mouth hanging open, welcoming hyunjin's silent request.

Hyunjin gathers spit on his tongue, letting strings of his saliva fall onto your mouth. You swallow with delight, and Hyunjin almost cums at the fucked out look on your face. His hips stutter against your clit, making you moan.

"You're mine, right? mine," Hyunjin drawls out.

"J-Jinnie—" you gasp. "Almost there," you let out deep sighs, toes curling as you feel your release building in your stomach.

"Cum, baby," he coos, fingers going down to rub your clit. "Make a mess on my cock for me, hmm? you're so fucking perfect,"

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him as you feel your release. You huff in his mouth, whimpering at the feeling and clenching hard on his cock.

"Oh fuck—fuck, too tight, fuck," Hyunjin looks down to see your sweet pussy milking his cock, hypnotized by the sight of your slick streaking down your cunt as your pretty pussy continues to swallow the whole of his dick.

"C-Can't—I'm cumming," he moans, hips rutting into yours in a fast pace.

After your body settles down from your orgasm, you look at Hyunjin's pretty face, adoring the way his eyebrows scrunch in desperation and how his plump lips part. You absentmindedly run your thumb across his plump lips.

Hyunjin sucks on your thumb lewdly, tongue running over your fingers, as his hips begin to stutter.

"Cum inside," you say without giving it any thought, holding your legs wide open for your ex boyfriend.

He whimpers as he licks his lips and nods desperately. "Anything--Anything for you," he says, as his eyes start to burn up, the overwhelming feeling of finally filling you up making his cock twitch.

"Feels so good, fuck—so good—" he cries.

You shudder as you feel spurts of Hyunjin's hot cum fill your pussy. Hyunjin's hips stutters as he stills, making sure to give you every drop of his cum. "F-Fuck,"

Hyunjin is out of breath as he collapses on top of you, wrapping his hands around your figure with his cock still inside your pussy. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, a tinge of panic in his features.

"We're back together, right?" he presses. " It's too late to take back what you said," he huffs.

You give him a sweet smile, wrapping your hands around his body and nuzzling your face on his neck.

was this too nasty? i have nastier works here! ♡

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[darkbluekies]

Masquerade massacre / Dance with death

king!yandere x fem reader / Y/N

Summary: the king spotted you last year, and now, during his masquerade, he'll make sure you'll be his for eternity ... and he has a (bloody) surprise for you.

Warnings: massacre, yandere themes, obsession, embarrassment, jealousy, guns, forced marriage, manipulation (?), possessiveness

Word count: 1.7k

ALTERNATIVE ENDING

He knows you’re here somewhere. You can’t hide from him forever. You’re somewhere among the hundreds of fancy guests covering themselves with jewels and masks, hiding their rotten personalities. You’re not like them, he knows that. He can’t wait until he finds you and can swoop you into his secure arms, hold you close to him and kiss your pretty lips. His eyes wander under the jeweled mask like a hawk, searching for you.

The second he’ll find you, he’ll never let you go again. He’s been planning this moment ever since he first saw you on that ball a year ago. You were dancing with his cousin. This time, however, you’ll dance with him and him only. He has a plan for you for the end of the night, but for that to happen, he needs to know which one of these women you are. He can’t make a mistake.

You, however, haven’t noticed the king’s predatory gaze as you make your way throughout the thick crowd of people. You’re wearing a blue dress with a white and blue mask with your hair swaying over your shoulders, not standing out among the well dressed women. Everyone’s trying to impress the royal highness. Even you — or that’s at least what you think. Everyone around you has been drooling over the young king and you have done what was needed to fit in. You can’t deny that your heart lies with the man you danced with at the ball last summer, the handsome, royal cousin. He’s the man you’ve actually dolled up for and is looking for.

You sigh. How are you ever going to find him among all these people? It’s near impossible. You stand on your tippy toes to look over the sea of people. You see a black haired man and in hope of finding the right one, you start to gently push through the sea of socializing people.

You pass the throne on your way. The king follows you with his eyes. A small, wicked smile spreads across his face. Got you.

You reach the man you believe to be the right one.

“Good evening, my lord”, you say. “I hope you remember me. I really enjoyed our dance last summer. I was hoping to dance with you tonight as well.”

The man turns to you and you can already tell on his green eyes that he’s not the man you threw yourself over last year. Worse, he’s wearing a wedding ring on his finger and a woman on his arm. Mortified, you place your hand over your mouth and make a run for it before he can open his mouth. You have to get out of here before he can get to know who you are. You push through people, no longer caring if they find you rude. You have to get out of here now.

You hurry out to the staircase and take a few breaths for yourself. Your shaking hands hold onto the stone railing as you lean towards one of the pillars. If that man and his wife realizes who you are, everyone in the elite class will talk about how you’re a ‘homewrecker’ and a ‘filthy girl’. A few sobs escape your lips.

“Finally, I found you”, you hear a male voice say behind you. “I’ve been looking for you all night, my lady.”

You gasp and turn around, seeing the king himself walk towards you. Everything about him screams power, self confidence and dominance. Everything a king should have, you think. The king moves over to you and gently removes your mask. His heart skips a beat at the sight he’s met with. Your teary doe eyes, trembling bottom lip and beautiful skin. He wants to keep this for himself. No one else should see you this vulnerable. Gently, he starts wiping your tears with his hand. The cold, gold rings making you shiver.

“Don’t cry, my dear”, the king whispers.

He has you pressed up against the pillar by now. If he moved any closer, he would be touching you.

“I’m embarrassed, your majesty”, you whisper back.

“I know, I saw it all”, the king murmurs and places a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Oh no.

“O-Oh … you did …”, you mumble and look down.

“Yes, I’ve been keeping my eye on you. As I said, I’ve been looking for you all night.” He puts his hands on your waist. “And now that I've found you, I won’t let you get out of my sight again.”

You freeze and give him a wide eyed look. What is he talking about? He chuckles and places your mask back on your face with the same grace he just used.

“Will you come back with me to the masquerade?” he asks and holds out his hand.

If you take his hand now, you’ll give yourself to him. If you take his hand now, he’ll never let you go. But you don’t know that. Yet.

“You won’t meet that man again”, the king promises. “You will stay by my side all evening, I promise. I even have a surprise for you, my dear. Come on … take my hand.”

You nod carefully and take his hand. He smiles smugly, knowing that you’re now trapped in his twisted little world forever. You’ll be his beautiful little accessory, a wonderful little doll for him to dress and love.

He brings you back into the big hall. Everyone’s eyes turn to you. The king smiles cockily and places his arm around your waist to bring you closer.

“Dance with me”, the king whispers in your ear.

He brings you out on the dance floor and pulls you closer to him. It’s not enough for him. He wants you even closer, wants to be one with you. He wants to feel you from the inside out, wants to get to know every centimeter of you. Your scent is like a drug to him and your voice lulls him in. He brings you along with him on the dance floor in his rhythm, giving you a taste of how your life will be from now on. Everything from now on will be in his rhythm and you should only lean on him.

“You’re so beautiful tonight”, the king tells you.

“Thank you, your majesty”, you say shyly.

He bends down to your ear.

“Lean on my chest”, he whispers. “Show everyone that you belong to me now.”

You swallow and hesitate. You don’t really love the king, you like his cousin. But after tonight, he’s the last person you want to think off. You’ll never be able to look him in the eyes and not think of the humiliation you felt tonight. You close your eyes and lean your head on his chest. The king sends the crowd cocky gazes. Look what’s his. Look what they’ll never ever have.

After an hour of non-stop swaying around on the dance floor, you tell him that you’re starting to get tired and should retreat to bed. He grabs your hand, stopping you.

“Don’t leave yet”, he begs you. “I have a surprise for you, remember?”

“Your majesty, I’m really tired-”, you start.

“I can give you the surprise now.” He pulls you with him. “Come.”

He takes you to the throne and sits you down. You shake your head quickly. You can’t sit on the throne! He insists on you taking your rightful seat before standing beside it and gestures with his hand to the guards around the hall. How come you didn’t notice them before?

To your utter horror, they pick up rifles and start to shoot recklessly, not caring who they hit. You scream and stand up, but the king presses you down again.

“Don’t leave yet���, he smiles, his calm voice somehow being able to be heard over the horrified screaming. “The show’s not over.”

You stare up at him. Something’s changed in his demeanor. A wicked, almost manic, smile has spread across his face and a psychopath hint in his eyes. You start to cry as you’re forced to watch the massacre in front of you. Body after body falls to the floor in pools of blood. You press yourself closer to the throne’s backrest, body shaking worse than ever. To your side, you notice how the king walks in front of you and sinks down on one knee. He picks off one of the golden rings off his fingers.

“Marry me, my lady”, he says. “I don’t want to live another day without you. Be mine. Please. I’ve gotten rid of all the competition. I will never look at anyone else besides you. I got rid of them all.”

You can’t find any words. Your brain has stopped working completely. Not a single sound leaves your mouth when you open it.

“If you don’t say ‘I do’, you will be shot”, the king says warningly, dark eyes looking directly at hers. “If I can’t have you, no one can. It’s you and I or no one.”

“Y-Your majesty”, you sob. “Please … please don’t …”

“Say it.”

“I-I … I can’t …”

“Y/N, tell me you’ll be my queen, tell me that you’ll stay with me forever … or end up like all the others.” He caresses your wet cheek and you flinch away from his hands. They may not have physical blood on them, but you know that they’re covered. “Don’t be a stupid girl now, darling. You know you don’t want to die. Accept the ring. Accept my love.”

You give the pile of bodies a gaze. That is not how you want to end up. But the king has gone insane … you can’t accept that either.

“Y/N …”, the king says. “I’m losing patience.”

“O-Okay … okay, I’ll do it!” you sob. “Please don’t hurt me!”

He breaks out in a relieved smile, places the golden ring on your finger and hugs you tightly against his chest.

“I won’t hurt you”, he promises. “I’ll protect you with my entire being.”

He kisses your forehead harshly. You sniffle and glance down at the ring on your finger. It’s a lock that goes straight to your heart.

“My beautiful queen”, he smiles. “Now you’re mine for eternity. I’m so, so happy.”

You doubt you will ever be able to say the same.

[natalievoncatte]

It just clicks into place.

When Lena failed to answer Kara’s fourth text, she did what any normal, well adjusted adult would do: put on her skintight suit and cape and jump out of her window.

Well, not any well-adjusted adult, but then, most adults can’t fly. Nor can most children, for that matter.

Kara circles the building three times, carefully listening. The familiar beat of that heart steady and strong, if a little slow. She has to be sure, though, and Lena probably hasn’t eaten.

By now, the sight of Supergirl walking into L-Corp in the more ordinary way has become less exciting, though no less a spectacle. Random visitors wearing temporary badges gawk as Supergirl nods to the woman stationed at the front security desk, while interns look cool by putting on their best and most fragile “oh, it’s just Supergirl, happens all the time” faces.

She even rides the elevator up.

Jess is at her desk when Kara arrives.

“She left strict instructions not to be disturbed.”

Kara doesn’t miss a stride. “I know.”

Jess makes no effort to stop her, but smiles secretly to herself and begins gathering her things, knowing she’s going to be sent home in short order anyway.

Kara gently opens the doors and steps inside. Lena has dimmed the lights and lies curled on the couch. She’s dressed in a power suit today, the jacket draped over her body like a blanket. When she fell into repose, she was so tired that she only managed to kick off one heel, the other swaying dangerously from her toes, in time with her breathing.

Lena’s head rests on one curled arm, her raven hair spilling over her creamy blouse and the white couch like a waterfall at night, her pale face the soft glow of a clouded moon. In sleep she worries at her lip and her brows pinch a little and she mutters something, and without even a second thought, Kara brushes loose dark curls back from her eyes.

And then it just clicks into place.

Worlds have lived and died, and Kara has crossed oceans of time and space for this moment. All the things that have happened all the way to the first trembling instability in her homeworld’s rotten green core have led to this, and not for the first time, Kara finds herself with a sting behind her eyes and guilt pulling at her like hooks; how dare she profit like this, from such an ending, receive such grace piled upon grace, not only to survive the absolute catastrophe but to prosper like this? To receive such a gift as Lena?

And then it just clicks into place.

This is a gift, a recompense. Something earned and deserved. It would not be a betrayal of all that came before if she accepts this, but it would be a betrayal if she refuses it. And finally, watching Lena mumble something about a product launch in her sleep, the crack in Kara Zoe-El Danver’s heart opens too wide to ever be forced closed again. She is lost.

Lena feels Kara’s touch, steel fingers on silken earlobe. She wakes blearily, blinking gummy eyes full of wonder.

“Oh,” Lena murmurs. “You’re here? I thought I dreamed you.”

All of Kara’s planned words die on her lips; there is no teasing, no playful admonishment about eating habits or working late.

“Let me take you home,” Kara says, and when Lena nods, there is, finally, peace.

“The way their partner looks when they fall asleep/wake up”