#a wide awake mess

[falldogbombsthemoon]

How can one stare at themselves in the mirror for hours and feel like they are the hottest mf on earth but as soon as a stranger looks at them, they feel like a shrinkled up pickle. Like God please.

[bunnihearted]

.

[introductionpresence]

i genuinely cant tell whether im going to get the best or worst night of sleep ive ever had

[savage-rhi]

[anadorablekiwi]

Nightly existential despair has hit because i live in a broken world where the only job i can emotionally handle is part time produce clerk and my current income is so low i dont have to make student loan payments yet

[yellowbentley]

im tired

im just so unbelievably

unbearably

tired

[somedaytakethetime]

Don't you even dare to ask me what this is because I don't know myself. I'm a harlot, I'm plagued, I'm the devil, I don't know. That's the answer. I find information online and I.JUST.CAN'T.LET.IT.GO. SCREAM INTO THE VOID WITH ME OKAY?? P.S. DON'T READ THIS

Notes: the most cursed, demonic, absolutely horribly filthy thing I'll ever sear anyone's eyes with? Possibly? This isn't as daring as I can get, ask my best friend if you don't believe me, but this is the most daring I'll ever be on here Warnings: do I need to? Read every other clue, babes, just.. pure filth... you know where the exit door is if you're a child. Also there's body insecurity in this. From a male perspective. Which gets written about very little, in my opinion, but it's prevalent and well... we're here to change the insecure kings opinions of themselves 😤 Word count: 4 154 words

It's a gradual thing. Something you don't realise at first. It happens slowly and covertly, so you don't really understand that it's happening. But at some point you start to piece it together. He watches himself in the mirror a lot, after showers and when he's getting dressed early in the morning. He avoids looking at himself late at night, especially after heavy and harsh days at work. He avoids looking at his body, unless he's scrutinising himself. Like... after.. Every. Single. Shower. You don't understand that's what he's doing at first, because he's so serious and focused as he looks at himself in the mirror from all angles. You assume he must be checking for bruises, cuts, scrapes, etc. That he must be assessing the damage that a harshly physical job brings. You'd want to take in all the damage too because it's painful to sit on a bruise you didn't know was there until you squashed it.. it's happened to him a lot more than he'll ever admit. But.. you catch him squeezing his stomach once. He did it so fast you barely understood that's what he did. Until it hit you that he just did something you're always doing too, when you look in the mirror, and feel insecure about yourself. He becomes closed off after that. Doesn't touch you as much, doesn't let you touch him much either. His clothes have always been looser, he likes being comfortable, but somehow they become even looser. He avoids anything that flatters him, dresses in baggy, completely dark clothes. Like he's trying to become a walking void. He starts stressing about aging too. Looks in the mirror and prodes at his face, looking for wrinkles and white hairs. None that exist at all. But he seems to think they do.. and then he starts making comments..

Seems obsessed with your age too, the difference between you both. Who's younger, who's older, how many years, months, days, there are between you. What he was up to in x year vs where you were. What he was doing, what he already knew how to do, what little amount of experience and life you might have lived in year y when he was already on an inevitable path to becoming who he is today. Becomes obsessed with time, stresses about the future. Stresses about the past, feels sadly nostalgic, reminisces and wishes he could have been there earlier, wishes to change who he is to match up with you better. Wishes things were different and there was more time. Acts as if the end of the world is looming near and there's only 5 more minutes on earth left to spend together. Looks sad and forlorn. And the most frustrating and infuriating thing is that he doesn't let you in. Shuts you down when you remind him that reality isn't what he's imagining in his head lately. Dismisses you when you challenge his view and explain that things are fine and there's so many more years in a lifetime to be lived, there's time for everything and more. Pushes you away when you try to touch him at times even.. makes you feel cold inside. Confused and scared that things might be falling apart and you can't fix it because he won't let you in. It starts to enrage you. Because he keeps pushing his own perceived notions of everything onto you, assumes the "reality" he's seeing as something that you are seeing when you couldn't see it further from that if you tried. It all comes to blows late one night after a disastrous dinner.

You put on your nicest dress. You wanted to look nice for him, wanted him to see you again because he wasn't looked at you in a while now. You miss him so badly. Miss his touch, miss his kisses, miss.. well.. you miss feeling his body on yours in ways that the bible possibly wouldn't approve of.. it's been what? a month? possibly a month now. He complains he's stressed, that there's too much on his plate, that he's too distracted by work but he forgets that.. usually.. it was most prevalent when he was stressed.. because, in his own words, 'you relaxe me like nothing else, baby'. Cheesy and he's the first to admit it, but there's something deep and almost fragilely emotional behind the jokes. Like every time he teases and says cheesy lines he means them deeply, he's just afraid to show exactly how deeply that is. Even in the longing looks he gives you, which have become more frequent lately, it's as if he's deeply afraid to lose you but only biding his time until you'll inevitably walk away. As if he doesn't believe he's good enough for you.. and he makes it evident all through dinner. Comments on how the waiter keeps checking you out, something which would normally bring out his jealous side and he'd feel the need to assert his dominance to every man in a 10km radius. Not tonight. He comments on how young the waiter is, how he seems to be in great shape, and dares to look at you and say "Maybe you should ditch the old man and go for a young one.. it might suit you better." winks and tries to act like it's playful but.. you've had enough. You push away from the table "That's it. I want to go home. I've lost my appetite." and you just walk out to go wait by his car. He's fuming by the time he gets to you but says nothing. Drives in absolute silence too and you're so hurt and angry you can't find it in yourself to say a word. When you arrive, you rush into the house, leaving him behind to park in the garage, but he's somehow not far behind you by the time you're tossing your shoes aside. "Did you think that was funny? Did you enjoy ruining our dinner?" he has the utter gall to say... and you lose your temper finally.

"Excuse me?? I did what now?" and he marches towards you, presses his body to yours, you almost feel angry when you think this is the closest he's gotten to you in 3 weeks, he looms over you and reminds you exactly of how big his body is, says irritated "You stormed out over a stupid joke and you ruined the nice dinner we'd been having. By now you should know that I joke around a lot, I don't get why you acted this way tonight. You can be such a child sometimes." you're not in your right mind but you're so angry that you push him. Harshly. He stumbles back a little, wasn't expecting that from you, looks at you hurt and offended. But you just scoff and march towards him now "No, I did not. You ruined our fucking dinner by being a Debbie Downer. Same way you've been every single fucking day lately. Mentioned some other man whom I wouldn't even look once at proper, let alone twice, daring to suggest that I should make a switch. How are you this fucking dense?" you're toe to toe, looking into each other's eyes, angry at each other. There's a crackling of electricity in the air around you, you're both on the verge of losing your tempers entirely. "Maybe you need a younger man, he'd probably have more patience to put up with your childish behaviour. I'm old and tired." you've never wanted to slap him before, but he's making it really hard on you not to.. "No, you're fucking not! Have you heard yourself lately?! I'm old this, I'm finished that, I'm such and such. What the hell has gotten into you?? All the jokes about me being too young, all the comments about other guys and their bodies, all the shit about how I should probably leave before I have to start caring for the elderly.. what the fuck?? What is your problem?! If you're sick and tired of me just break up, don't bully me into leaving and try to make it seem like it's my fucking choice!" he suddenly gets serious. He feels there's a threat to his relationship, that the real option that you might leave is right there in front of him, that this is the end.. and he doesn't know how to deal with that. He's hurt just thinking about it. So he shuts down as he always does. "If you want to leave you can go right ahead. You know where the doors are and no one has ever locked you in this house against your will. But don't blame it on me, I haven't told you to do shit." and he just walks away.

You stare at the wall in front of you, the empty space he's left behind, for likely 5 or more minutes. It's eerily quiet in the bedroom, even though he's in there, and you're trying to let your anger settle down. He's hurt, he feels threatened, he feels pushed. He only ever reacts with cold detachment when he feels deeply hurt. You're trying so hard not to be hurt but you can't help the tears running down your cheeks. You love this man so much it hurts, physically, like there's aches in your chest when you think about how deeply you love him, how desperately you desire him, how much you want to spend all your minutes with him forever. It hurts deeply that he doesn't seem to accept that, or believe it, lately. Something has changed and he won't let you in on it. It feels cold to be left out, you thought you shared everything as one. It's painful to think you don't. But you don't want this to be the end. You're not ready to let go, you'll never be. You take a deep breath and turn around, walk to the bedroom and find him curled in on himself. Frozen in place and eerily still. 'Deeply hurt.. makes two of us, mate' you think. Clearly, he's not ready to let go either. You lay down behind him, wrap your arms around him as best as you can and you feel his whole body tense up. "I love you. I don't understand why you don't believe me, but I love you so much. I don't know what else to do to show this to you in a way you'll accept it too." He takes several minutes but eventually turns around. His face is red, he's trying not to cry in front of you but his eyes are filled with tears. He pulls you to him, kisses you softly but so deeply, whispers in that rough and affected voice of his that's so unfairly and wrongly sexy for the moment, "I love you so much that I want to die thinking about you leaving me." "Then why are you pushing me away?" he won't meet your eyes, his voice is soft and whispered, dripping with insecurity now, "Because I don't deserve you."

"No. No no no. No." you shake your head, hold his face and keep kissing him, want to pour all the love you feel into him so he'll believe it too. His hands wrap around your body, pull you so tight to him that you can feel every line of muscle in his body, every tendon moving, every ridge and curve of him, "Don't ever say that again, just don't. Don't say that." he shakes his head "It's true. You're just.. you deserve better. I'm washed up, tired, old and just.." he whispers so so quietly you barely hear it. Fat. It takes you so many seconds to realise he said it. He just called himself fat. The scoff you let out fills the air. You're furious now. Who said it? Who insulted him? Who broke his confidence this way?? Who was it?? You'll have their heads on a platter. How dare anyone insult your man? How dare anyone make him feel like his body isn't the picture of perfection? In another century he would have had artists tripping over themselves to sculpt him out of marble, he would have been Adonis.. David.. the ideal male physique. He would have been considered a god. "How dare you? Who said it??" he just looks at you "Who the fuck said you were fat? I'll kick their ass! Who was the fucker that made you feel insecure??", he leans up and moves from you, sits up on the bed, and looks at the floor, "No one had to say anything. I have eyes, you know? I get dressed around men every single day, I've seen more men naked in the last ten years than most people have in a lifetime.. I can see the differences between us." you scramble up to sit next to him, angry and shocked that he's thinking these things about himself, "How the fu-.. no! Absolutely not! What the hell?? No! You are not less than any other guy. In fact! You're hotter than all of them combined! There is not a single guy out there that can compete with you and win. You're just..." you gesture wildly, can't even pin down exactly what he stands for and how insanely attractive he is, "You're everything! You're all of it! You're smart, you're cultured, you have unbelievably quick reflexes, you have a body that would make Gods jealous, you're so fucking fine.., you also have the stamina of a fighting bull and.." you trail off, get distracted by all the flashes of heated memories flooding your mind, all the times he's had you whining, writhing, moaning, biting and clawing at him.. all the times he's had you in tears from how good he is.. all the times he's left you wobbly legged and sore, faint even hours after he was done, dreaming about it and wanting more.. your voice is clearly affected when you speak again "You're so good, baby, no one can match you. Ever. You're the whole package. You're so sweet and caring too, and loving, and supportive. You make me feel so safe, so loved, so confident.." you feel deeply hurt that he makes you feel beautiful and desirable every time yet he's riddled with insecurity and you can't fix it as easily, you don't have to be subjected to seeing women you know on the covers of 'Hottest Guy Alive' magazines and making it to the tops of 'hottest players' lists.. he has to see that. Polls, online discussions, debates, comments, everything from everywhere. Subjected to scrutiny. Criticism. Comments about their bodies and doubts about their fitness levels depending on their shape. It makes you sick. Makes your blood boil. It happens to women, of course, but men rarely get another man defending them. Especially in this field. You want him to see it, want him to know it. So.. you take the best approach you know how: go for his ego. Turn him on. You get closer to him, say softly, "This is strictly off the record and just between us but...", whisper right in his ear, "You're so fucking hot that I'm always soaked around you..." he straightens up, gives you such a heated look.. you keep whispering, looking him in the eyes, "Especially lately... you haven't touched me in so long.. just the other night... I-.." "You what?" you can feel him radiating heat, radiating need..

"You were sleeping naked.. which you rarely do lately and it's really fucking offensive mind you.. but.. the sheet had moved down because you keep tossing and turning lately.. and you were just there.. totally naked... hard.. and I.. fuck, I wanted it so badly.. I've missed you so much.. that I just touched myself imagining all the times that we've woken each other up to have sex.." he scoots closer to you, his eyes are on fire.. "Did you now?" you nod and bite your lip softly, whisper so so quietly "I was completely drenched.. I've.. really missed you... you have no idea how attractive you are.. and the effect that has on me.." he kisses you so roughly. Pulls you to him tightly, his tongue making it's way to stroke against yours, he pulls back and bites your lip, grins when you whine, kisses you deeper, spit and tongues mixing together as you fall back into a pile on the bed. His hands leave a fire in their wake as he pulls your dress off of you in a hurry, you undress him just as hurriedly, albeit rougher than he was, desperate to get him exactly where you need him. It's a need at this point. The same way you need to breath to survive. You need him to survive too. You go insane without his touch. You've been so irritated and on edge lately... he's been so cranky too... because you're both balls of pent up sexual frustration. "You're not fat, not even a bit. The only thing that's fat about you is your co-" he laughs into the kiss he gives you, a light-hearted laugh, and a giddy feeling spreads through your body. He hasn't been this happy in a long while. You love his laugh, you love everything about him. You cling to him as his body sinks into yours, so deep that sparks burst behind your eyelids. It's been enough time since this happened that it's a stretch.. he's.. not the smallest man around, in fact.. "Fucking hell, you're too much, you know that?" he just laughs, low and rough, mixed with a moan right there in your ear, "You've never complained before.. quite the contrary, baby.." he's right. You love the feeling of him. How big he is, how heavy his body is on top of yours, how warm and sturdy he feels too.. he makes you feel caged, but in the most comforting way possible. He's breathing in your ear as he thrusts slowly, it's been a while for him too, he needs to go slow for the sake of both of you. Needs to let both of your bodies adjust again, sink into this feeling, enjoy how good it feels when you're this close. He's missed you like this, under him and so willing.. he's missed your body as badly as he's missed closeness to you. He's such an idiot for going this long without touching and kissing you..

He sinks even deeper as he drops more of his weight on you, you whine loudly and bite on his shoulder, nails digging into his strong arms. A struggling, disbelieving laugh is exhaled from him, he shivers and moans roughly. He doesn't even want to move, just wants to stay right here, exactly like this, forever. He pauses to enjoy the feeling, the warmth, the slickness, the clenching. How soft your skin is. How pliable and tender you are under him. He feels every bit of him touching every bit of you. Suddenly he becomes hyper aware of that. His naked body is touching yours. His stomach... he's taken the biggest dislike to his stomach now... he doesn't have the tight, washboard abs he sees on most guys. He's meatier, always been. It makes him insecure lately. And he's now hyper aware that that fleshiness is touching your body. He recoils at the thought, his body tenses up and you feel it immediately. He starts to pull away but you lock your legs around his hips, pull him back, say desperately, nearly in tears, "No, no no no. Don't. Please don't, I need it so badly. I've missed you. I want you so much, god, I want you so badly. Don't. No, just don't." he pauses, tries to clench his abs so he can make his softness less evident, so it doesn't touch you that closely, and you know he's doing it. You used to do just that at the start. Tried to make your body look and feel more toned. So that he'd love you and he wouldn't find you unattractive. He made you realise that he thinks you're the hottest thing on two legs no matter how you look. So.. "I love your tummy, stop doing that shit." it startles him, he looks down at you and you're starring right into his eyes. You lock gazes and your voice is dripping with need when you speak "You don't realise how fucking amazing it feels.. you don't get that your body is just.. amazing for sex. I want you to press down on me because it.. I can't explain it but it feels so good. Like you're touching me deeper even without touching me. It feels amazing, it's just.. sex with you feels godly. Relax. I want to feel your body, all of you. Because it feels really fucking good from my end and you're robbing me of a really good orgasm if you hold back.. and that is what I might have to leave you over.." he looks unsure for a long moment. You play with his hair, your other hand runs your nails up and down the middle of his back and you feel him shiver, he moans softly.. his lids slide shut.. and you feel it. He starts to relax, little by little, let's all the restraint go and presses down on you.

You can feel every millimetre of him pressed to you. Locking you down against the mattress, overheating your skin. Making you dizzy, skin on fire as he speeds up, sinks so deep that your eyes can't focus and you have to shut them. There's a pounding in your head, your heart is beating so fast that you can feel the veins pulsating in your temples. Every muscle, every tendon, and every bulging vein in his body is palpable to you. You feel the tensing and the relaxing, the tendons stretching and pulling back, you can feel his blood rushing in his veins, his heart beats in sync with yours pressed tightly to your breast. You're only one body in this moment. You feel the tummy pressing into you, putting pressure on your core, something that feels so good and he tried to pull away from you.. nearly robbed you of one thing that drives you wild. You love the look of him, you love the feel of him even more. It makes you desperate, pant for air, makes you shiver and moan, soft and whiny, into his neck. Makes you rise higher and higher as you tighten more and more around him. He's speaking but you can't focus on what he's saying, so lost in your own need that all his whispered words turn into just the hum of his sexy voice in your ear. You can feel it building up at the base of your spine, can almost touch it right at your fingertips. He moves faster, whispering something that sounds so sexy yet you can't make out exactly what it is, and you just crumble under him. Claw his back, bite his shoulder, muffle your garbled whines and moans and fall apart so hard that you feel you're melting all over. You feel him, right there, right along with you too. It feels heavenly, you've missed him so much. You're giggling and crying afterwards, muffled sounds into his shoulder, tears staining his skin as you shake and cling to him. He pulls back, concerned that you're hurt, you look at him and give him a watery smile. "I love you so much." emotion chokes you and he looks affected too "I love you so deeply, I love you.". Tears are running down your face as giggles burst from you. You pull him down into a kiss, melt into him, sigh so relaxed and just hold him tightly. He rolls sideways and takes you with him, holds you close and plays with your hair, kisses your temple as you trace circles on his chest and rub your face all over him like a cat. "Are you okay?" he asks almost a little concerned and you nod, smile up at him, "I missed you.." you're rewarded with a sweet kiss, a soft smile and a caress to your cheek, "I missed you too. I'm really sorry for being a dickhead. I was a fucking idiot, I'm sorry." you nuzzle him and say "I think I can forgive you..." he raises an eyebrow and gives you that look he always does "If..." you sigh.. smile so sweetly.. devil personified.. "If you keep doing that all night.. you know.. to make up for all the times you haven't lately.." he burst into a light laugh and says, a little cocky, "I think I can manage that.." before he's kissing you breathless. It's going to be a long night, but that's exactly what you had been planning for..

[ccchaoscompendium]

a fun thing about existing here is that nobody actually cares about our sleep schedule. And by fun I mean GIRLIES we cannot keep staying up til 5,

[nightmare8-420]

gonna be honest, either ppl with bpd need to stop being so relatable or i need to get smth checked

[lilithland]

ok but like imagine you and your girl best friend are having a sleepover

and you two have always been super close and touchy with each other, you’ve even made out once or twice when you were drunk

it’s not uncommon for you two to share a bed and cuddle with one another, plationically of course

you’re half awake one night, about to fall right back asleep, barely conscious, when you feel a little more spread out than usual, a little more restricted too

you’re chilly and can feel your nipples hardening, you go to curl into a ball, about to seek out the warmth of your best friend but you find that you can’t move anything

you start to wake a little more and realize your tied wide open on your friends bed

“oh baby, shhhhh, go back to sleep”

you feel hazy and find yourself fighting to stay awake, you realize you’re naked and that’s why you’re so cold

your best friend drags a manicured finger down your body causing you to shiver

“you usually don’t wake up during this part, that’s ok, you won’t remember come morning”

you’re confused by her words but her fingers twisting and pinching at your nipples causes you to moan and throw your head back

“does princess need something to keep her quiet while mommy plays?”

you watch as your best friend takes her own panties off and stuffs them in your mouth, you can taste how soaked she was

“if youre a good girl maybe i’ll let you lick my pussy clean when we’re done”

you’ve never had sex with a woman before but your own leaky cunt is clearly thrilled by the idea

your friend starts sucking on your neck while simultanelmously teasing your entrance with her skilled fingers

she pulls away, bringing her fingers to her mouth to taste your girl juice that she collected

“mmmm you always taste so sweet princess”

she drops down and uses her tongue to fuck your drippy messy hole, she uses a thumb to rub figure eights over your clit

you cum embarrassingly fast, too stupid to process anything other than how good your best friend is making you feel

you’re drooling around the panties in your mouth, utterly blissed out, your own cum leaking down your best friends chin

your friend gets up and dissapears for a bit, leaving you a needy, squirmy, whiny mess

she returns with a double headed dildo and a vibrator

“i wonder just how many times we can get you to cum on this cock with me before you pass out and forget everything again babygirl, last week you made it to four but i think you can do at least six tonight”

[zephyrchama]

Water Wrinkles

Seven demon brothers sat solemnly in a circle around you. You did your best to ignore them. It wasn't often that you got to spend time at the human world villa, and you were intent on soaking up as much sun as you could before returning to the Devildom.

You reclined your beach chair back, crossing your arms under your still-wet hair. It was a gorgeous day. Perfect for being at the pool.

Leviathan let out a muffled sob. As the demon with the highest affinity for water, he blamed himself.

"Let us take you to a hospital," Satan insisted for the tenth time.

"They're going to laugh us out of the ER," you nonchalantly repeated.

Satan lowered his eyes and muttered, "I couldn't find any traces of a curse in the water... So how...?"

Asmodeus had his head in his hands, unresponsive. Sometimes his fingers curled around the ends of his hair. You briefly glanced over to make sure he didn't pull his hair out - that would be grounds for a real emergency.

"I can't bear to watch. Lucifer, do somethin'," Mammon whined. He was fidgeting all over the place and winced whenever he looked at your feet.

The oldest glared at you. You knew it was out of concern, but his fears were unfounded. Even Lucifer refused to listen to reason when he thought you were in danger.

"Actually, yeah. Lucifer, can you pass me a towel?" you asked. It was embarrassing having seven shirtless demons intensely staring at you. If they wouldn't let you go back in the water, maybe covering up would make you feel less self-conscious.

Lucifer didn't move. It was Beelzebub who plucked a spare towel off his younger twin and handed it to you with a shaking arm. He looked like a wet puppy, having been the one who first discovered your "condition" and swept you out of the pool.

Belphegor hadn't gone in the water that day. He only hogged the plush towels because of how comfortable they were and, following Beelzebub's lead, dumped them all onto your chair. Now he sat, wide awake. He was anxiously squeezing a loose chunk of concrete but at some point, without realizing, it got crushed to powder in his hand.

You had more than enough towels now.

"In half an hour you're going to forget this all even happened," you said to reassure the worry warts.

"In half an hour, you might be gone!" Mammon snapped back.

"You're going to be a wrinkled mess of skin and bones," Asmodeus weeped quietly.

Leviathan pressed his hands over his ears. Though, with nothing to cover his eyes he was forced to look at your wrinkled hands again. Based on the noises he was making, you'd think someone was torturing him.

"As I've said!" you reiterated. "All humans get wrinkly in water. Look, now that I'm drying off it's going back to normal."

Beelzebub grabbed your ankle, raising it for the brothers to observe at eye level. "I don't see a difference."

You didn't expect the sudden manhandling and slunk several inches down the lounge chair while the demons stared at your foot. Kicking and twisting your leg was futile. You modestly crossed your free leg.

"I think it's getting worse," Satan said.

"We need to take action," Lucifer decided.

Asmodeus was actively quivering now. Belphegor and Leviathan had crept behind you and started picking at your wrinkly fingers. You tried to swat them away to no avail.

"Give me 25 minutes! Literally! Probably even less, this will go away on its own! I just need to dry off."

"We need a solution now," Mammon asserted. The cogs in his brain were turning. "We need fire."

You tried to sit up, to jump up and stop Mammon before he burned the whole villa down in an attempt to dry you off, but Beelzebub had not let go and you stumbled. You grazed your knee on the concrete and winced.

A second round of panic overcame the demon brothers. Beelzebub let go, Lucifer picked you up, and Belphegor wrapped your knee with every available towel he could lay his hands on. Asmodeus and Leviathan were crying on each other's shoulders. Mammon came running back, oblivious to the second disaster that just occurred, with a flaming stick in his hand that Satan tried to keep at bay. If you got burnt on top of everything else, they'd probably go insane and destroy the human world.

In the midst of the chaos you caught a glimpse of your hand. It was practically dry. You couldn't even see the wrinkles anymore. You angrily wiggled in Lucifer's grasp as various hands fussed over you.

"Stay!!" you shouted over the clamor.

The brothers went tumbling to the ground, save for Lucifer who fought to stay rooted in place. You could finally hear yourself think again. There was primarily one thought on your mind.

"I just want to go swimming."

[voluptuarian]

me: ooh I'm off schedule and feeling tired, let's call it an early night

my brain: how would you like to force yourself awake after 2.5 hours of running a dystopia-set version of Salo?

me: I would not??

brain: teehee

[caught-in-the-filter]

.

[ironambivalence]

The first thing you feel is the sharp pinch of the needle in your arm. Warmth flooding your body, your face flushed and lips tingling. The sensation spreading to your core and between your legs. Suddenly you feel warm and wet. Your cunt swelling slightly, lips parting... You try to touch yourself, pulling against something, and then…

Your eyes snap open and the bright light temporarily blinds you. Thick leather straps hold you down against the examination table, spread-eagled. Fear and adrenaline prick your skin, your drug-induced warmth now slick with a sheen of cold sweat. The shame of your dripping cunt hits you hard, and you try to tell yourself that it’s not your fault, it’s the drugs. It has to be the drugs…

Your mouth is held wide with a dental gag, jaw already beginning to ache. Your head is kept still with a thick leather strap across your forehead even as you see me cross your field of vision, my face behind a surgical mask, your eyes wide. “Today, I have an experiment…”

Another pinch, and a strong sedative makes your limbs go limp, too weak and heavy to move much, your mind perfectly alert. You feel my fingers spread your labia, pull back your clitoral hood, and the sharp excruciating pain of a needle in your clit, then your labia, the drug making them swell. Your tits are injected next, making them full and heavy as the syringe is emptied. The warmth spreads, combining with the pain, your cunt locked in a deep ache and drooling immediately. You are helpless, swollen, sensitive, and completely overstimulated. A vibrator is pushed against your cunt, shockwaves of sensation flooding your body as you try not to moan. My gloved hand encircles your throat, choking you. My fingers probe your gag reflex, making you drool all over yourself as you begin to see stars. You pass out a few times, slapped awake after each one, oxygen flooding your body and setting every nerve on fire. Each orgasm wrecking your body more than the last, the time between them growing shorter until they are just seconds apart. Forced to cum against your will so much it hurts. A gagging drooling mess. A ruined, helpless thing. Your cunt is swollen and unrecognizable, dripping down the table and onto the floor.

The vibrator is suddenly switched off. I slap your cunt hard and laugh as you scream, convulsing as shockwaves of pain cascade through your core. You groan as the thick electric plug is slid deep inside your anus, stretching you wide as tears spring to your eyes. The electricity makes you whimper, not just from pain, but from forcing your pelvic floor muscles to contract in time to the current. I press the head of my swollen cock against your dripping labia, and sink deep inside your helpless ruined hole. Choking you, slapping you, and spitting on you as I rape you, your restrained body swaying with each deep thrust, vulnerable and spread wide. Gagging you as you make disgusting noises, your face and tits covered in drool. Torturing your grossly swollen nipples, bruising them almost instantly with my fingers as I pinch, pull, and twist them savagely, tearing harsh, violent screams from your throat as the pain sears through your body. Your spasming cunt milks my cock inside you as I rape you. Your own body forced to betray you. Even the autonomy of your own muscles raped away as I force them to pleasure my cock. To splatter your cervix with my cum. And worse, to make you cum as well.

It hurts too much to orgasm now. You’ve been holding it off so long, trying to avoid the sensations from last time. It makes your muscles clench out of sync with the current, doubling up and eventually forcing that wave to crest, your eyes rolling back, legs shaking as you let out a horrible shriek of despair... Then it tears through you, every muscle taut and shaking. Mind going blank, unable to register anything but a horrible emptiness in the pit of your stomach, all stimulation gone. Just an object. A toy. A ruined thing.

When your eyes open, you become dimly aware of my voice. Your cunt is held open with a speculum, my cum still dripping out as you are examined in detail. Your most private, intimate parts helpless, vulnerable, and exposed. Nothing private, nothing secret.

“Indeed. The subject has become deeply suggestible. The formula was substituted for saline with no decline in response...” Saline!? No! It has to be the drugs. It was the drugs! Your mind is breaking as the mirror above you reveals the truth: Your tits and cunt are grossly swollen in the humiliating caricature of a fuckdoll, not injected with some new pharmaceutical, but simple saline solution…

“...more experiments are needed to determine the efficacy of any new formula.” In your turmoil, you suddenly notice the red light of a webcam, stomach churning... How many saw? How many people saw what I did to you?

“We will keep the experiment and continue to perform tests...” And as my first words drift back to you, it suddenly becomes clear: YOU are The Experiment.

[augustinewrites]

cw: it’s just angst & jjk manga spoilers

satoru wakes with a start.

his breaths come a little faster than his body can process, his heart is pounding in his chest, and his head feels like someone’s stuck a hot poker in it. 

it takes him what feels like a few minutes to settle down again, clutching the bedsheets in a tightly wound fist. 

once things seemed to have returned to a normal level, he tries to remember what’d startled him. was it a dream? a memory? had he simply jerked himself awake whilst on the precipice of sleep, like you claimed he did—

his mind seems to be clearing up, because his next instinct is to sit up and make sure you’re okay.

you’re fine, sound asleep on your side of the bed. 

satoru relaxes, albeit only slightly. he’s not sure why he’d been struck with such sudden panic. there’s just this…feeling. he might even go as far as to call it an overwhelming sense of dread, if he were dramatic.

there’s something. it’s hiding in the back of his brain, somewhere even his six eyes can’t find or comprehend. 

he leans back against the headboard, reaching up to run his hands through then lightly grip the strands of his hair. outside, the sun’s barely peeking over the horizon, but whatever had startled him had left him wide awake. 

“the kids are gonna be up soon,” you mumble, pulling him out of the mess of his mind. “better sleep while you have time.” 

time. the word flashes like a flint strike in his mind, but the sparks don’t quite catch yet.

so he lays next to you, wrapping an arm around you to pull you into his chest. he feels a bit better, with you in his arms. 

“what’s wrong?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. 

“nothing,” he lies.

you hum, but he knows that you know him too well. you always know when he’s lying. 

you twist in his arms so the two of you are face to face, the tip of your nose brushing his. 

your sleepy gaze finds his, sending him a small smile. “hi.”

he doesn’t reply because he finds he’s too busy memorizing the details or your face; the flecks of colour in your eyes, the slope of your nose. it’s as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it.

or maybe the last.

the thought comes out of nowhere and scares him so badly that he tries to pull away.

“hey,” you murmur, cradling his face in your hands. he catches your wrist intending to pull you away, but instead he clings to you like a lifeline. you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “you’re okay.”

he wants to believe you, he really does. but anxiety is beginning to gnaw on the edge of his sanity.

“something’s wrong,” he admits quietly. “i don’t— i don’t know—”

“you worry too much,” you sigh, your thumb smoothing over his cheek. 

“i just want us all to be safe,” he tells you. 

“i know,” you hum again, smiling a little sadly. “i just wish you wouldn’t let it come at your expense.”

there are a lot of things he wants to say in this moment. he wants to ask why you’re worried, because you know he’s the strongest. that he would rip the heavens apart for you. he wants to tell you that he has a plan, and that he knows it’ll work. 

(a plan for what? he thinks briefly. he can’t remember.)

but most of all…he wants to tell you that he loves you and the life you’ve built together. too much to leave it all behind. 

but all that comes out is,

“i’d rather it be me than any of you.” 

“don’t say that,” you frown. “we need you. i need you.”

there’s an awful ache settled deep in his chest, carving into the place where his heart sits.

“well, it’s a good thing i’m not planning to go anywhere anytime soon.” lie. “i love you.”

truth.

he rests his forehead against yours, tangling his fingers with yours. 

the memories hit him like a gut punch. 

handmade mochi. the flick of a lighter. a beach in okinawa. megumi and tsumiki laughing. you in your wedding dress, telling him you love him. 

a crowded station. the beginning of the end. 

his eyelids are suddenly heavy. there’s not enough time, he panics. that can’t be it—

“i’ll be here when you wake up,” you promise, and even though you sound like you’re a million miles away, he can hear the sadness in your voice. “you can rest now.”

satoru closes his eyes.

[nicksbestie]

On The Phone - M. Sturniolo

Summary : the one where your boyfriend is in los angeles, you're in boston, and he misses you, so he calls you late at night.

Warnings : 16+ content. i am not responsible for the media you choose to consume online. sub!matt, dom!reader, praise kink, begging, slight edging + a little bit of overstimulation, this is entirely focused on matt!!

Word Count : 2361

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : matt gives sub vibes so badly idc argue with the wall... enjoy this little dumpster fire!!

You were in Boston, and your boyfriend was at his home in Los Angeles.

You didn’t like the long distance aspect of your relationship, but you understood that it was necessary due to your boyfriend’s career, and you supported him wholeheartedly. However, that didn’t mean that you didn’t miss Matt all the time, and it was clear that he missed you as well. With this being said, it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to be spending hours upon hours on your individual phones, texting back and forth. Nick texted you every so often, frustrated about how many clips of Matt texting he had been forced to edit out of the video, because he had been so distracted by you the entire time. You found it funny, but hated that it caused extra work for Nick, so you tried to give Matt his personal space when he was filming, despite him not quite wanting you to do so. 

Tonight was one of those nights. They were out filming, and it was past midnight, so you knew Matt wouldn’t be home for a good little while. You missed him, as you hadn’t talked as much that day, but you were an independent woman, and you could handle yourself for a few hours until you got to talk to him again. So, since you were a little bored so late at night, you decided to experiment with new makeup looks, dress up a little bit, just for some fun for yourself. So you got out of bed, playing some music off of your phone as you turned on your bathroom overhead light, singing along as you style your hair around your face. You loved to dress up, even if it was for no reason, because it always made you feel good, feel pretty, or depending on what you were wearing, hot. You had a thin, white, sheer dress that you’d never worn, something that would never be worn outside of the house, because it was solely for Matt’s eyes. 

You slipped it on, being careful not to mess up your hair, choosing to put it on before you did your makeup, so that there was less risk of it being damaged, as that was much more difficult to fix than your hair. Smiling into the mirror, you began your makeup, changing your music to a new playlist. By the time that you were finished, it was past one in the morning, but you felt wide awake. You were enjoying yourself, and time was flying by, so you were confident that Matt would be back from filming any minute. You knew you looked beautiful, and you didn’t deny the fact that you were taking a ton of photos, some that might end up going on your Close Friends story, but most of them were solely to send to Matt. You had your boyfriend on Life360, so you saw when he got home, and when you got that notification, you sent a couple of the more revealing photos, complete with them being covered in the iMessage invisible ink feature, just in case his brothers were around. 

Matt responded incredibly quickly, a fast stream of partly incoherent messages. You smiled at them, loving how reactive he was to just a few simple photos. Your boyfriend was completely whipped, and you absolutely adored it. You simply sent back a smile and a heart, changing the subject to how filming had gone that early morning. You knew it was likely that he was worked up, and you knew that if you changed the subject, he wouldn’t argue with you, but you didn’t doubt that he was flustered behind the screen. You kept the conversation steered away from anything to do with how you looked or how he felt for the next hour, keeping him talking about YouTube, how every other part of yours and his day had been, knowing that there was a high possibility he was desperate for the subject to be changed. You didn’t send him all of the suggestive photos that you had taken, keeping some of them kept in your favorites for later, whenever they were needed. 

After a certain point, you broke, causing Matt’s phone to ring with an incoming FaceTime call. He answered almost immediately, his eyes widening, smiling as he saw your face. He didn’t think the photos had done you justice, and he made sure to tell you just how beautiful you looked. You smiled, striking up another casual conversation, taking in the fact that he was in his room, half sitting up against his headboard, and very obviously missing a shirt. You couldn’t deny that the messiness of his hair only added to his attractiveness, making you continue speaking to him as you simultaneously sent him another picture. You could hear his phone vibrate twice as the message went through, and you saw his screen light change as he opened his messages, his mouth dropping slightly open as he took in the photo. You could hear his breath slightly hitch, and you simply smiled as you asked him if he had even heard your original question, laughing inside at his flustered attempt to respond, his cheeks flushing red. 

Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, you tapping through social media, uploading some of the pictures with more coverage to your close friends, and one of just your face to your public story. Matt was the first one to view both of those, liking them both and sending red hearts in your direct messages. Sitting in silence, each of you doing your own thing, you noticed after about fifteen minutes that Matt had gone on mute. His camera was still on, showing only his face, so you didn’t think much of it, until another five or so minutes, when you saw his head tip back. When he straightened it back up, you could see the flush on his cheeks had grown stronger, and you could see his phone's reflection in his eyes. It looked quite similar to the picture you had sent him earlier, and you smiled to yourself as you realized what he was up to. He must have forgotten his camera was on. You unmute yourself, not saying anything, simply watching your boyfriend as his eyes fluttered shut for a split second.

“You like those photos more than I expected you to.”

His eyes snapped open, shock racing through his features as he realized that he had still been in frame. His blushed darkened impossibly, staring at you with his mouth slightly dropped open like a fish out of water, failing to come up with words.

“What? You’re going to get off to my pictures and not even have the decency to show me?” 

He continued to falter for words, and when he shifted positions, a small whimper leaving his mouth, you smiled sweetly at him, your faux innocent look a stark contrast to his current situation. 

“You haven’t even stopped touching yourself. You get caught getting off to someone you’re on the phone with, and you’re too much of a slut to stop doing it when they call you out? God, baby, you’re more desperate than I thought.” 

He didn’t respond with any words, just a low moan leaving his lips as his hand clearly continued to move. The shift of his arm in the edge of the camera frame told you the degradation was doing wonders for him, and you smiled to yourself at just how easy it was to have him melting for you. 

“Move the camera, baby. If you’re gonna get off to me, I want to see it.” 

He let out a small whine, immediately doing as asked, a short gasp leaving his lips when he was rewarded with a “good boy.” Matt had a massive praise kink, something you had discovered the first time you had ever done anything with him. You’d spoken a simple “doing so good for me” and he’d practically cum on the spot, humiliation filling his cheeks. Since then, you’d made sure to reward him with consistent praise, loving the way he reacted to it. 

“Go on, baby, tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

At your words, Matt’s hand was moving quicker than it had been, his head now swirling with not just the photo of you, but the full image of you on his live call, your voice encouraging his actions. You laughed to yourself as he struggled to string together a full sentence, his head very clearly overwhelmed with his current situation. 

“Answer me, or you’ll stop what you’re doing.” 

The gentle, but serious, threat of you telling him to stop, and him having to go the rest of the night with no release, was enough for him to finally spit out some words, for the first time in what felt like ages, but had really only been a couple of minutes.

“Thinkin’ about you…” 

He trailed off, his words slightly slurred from pleasure as he ran his thumb over his slit, tightening his grip as his hand moved back down. 

“Yeah? Wishing it was my hand instead of yours?” 

He didn’t hesitate to answer this time, choking out a response almost immediately.

“Yes, fuck. Yes.” 

Matt was easily overwhelmed, and often had a short trigger, so when his noises were getting higher in pitch, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Seeing his eyes trained on you and raking over the sheer dress you had on, you dropped it off of your shoulders with a smile, and his reaction was exactly what you expected. His hand sped up impossibly, more frequent moans leaving his lips. He turned his head into the pillow, letting out muffled whimpers with his eyes closed into it so as to not disturb anyone else in the house. 

His hips started to push up into his hand, his chest rising and falling more sharply as his breathing picked up speed, and his moaning turned into a steady stream of little whimpers.

“Are you close, baby?” 

You knew the answer, you just wanted to make him agree, knowing it would add on to his slight humiliation. As he choked out a “Uh huh”, his head too floaty with pleasure to form anything else, you smiled at his fucked out state. He was so easy to break down, and he always looked so pretty when he was like this. You spoke praises to him, a few harsh words mixed in between, loving the way his moans choked off at your words, until all he was letting out was a long string of begs. It was a constant stream of “please, please, please, I need-” before you cut him off.

“Relax, baby. You can wait a little bit longer.” 

He reacted to your words with a cut off gasp and his flushed face frantically shaking his head, as if to tell you no, he couldn’t. You didn’t respond, simply watching his movements, noting the way he slowed down a little, steering himself away from the edge but still keeping his pleasure heightened, and you loved just how good he was for you. You weren’t there, he could technically ignore you and get himself off if he so pleased, but even though he desperately wanted to, he waited for your permission, always, because you both knew it felt more rewarding for him when he had it. 

His phone was leaned up against something further down the bed, and you could see when his free hand moved to grab it, his hand shaky as he brought the camera closer to his face before turning the viewpoint around. His thighs were shaking, and his hand was speeding up again, and you knew he wasn’t going to last. He’d been incredibly good for you, so when the pleas began to fall from his lips, you made sure to quickly answer them, not wanting to make him wait much longer.

“Go on, baby, but put your phone back where it was. I want to see how pretty you look when you cum.” 

His face was easily your favorite thing to look at. His eyes screwed tightly shut, his jaw dropping in a long, low moan, his free hand fisting his sheets as his entire head tipped back, putting his neck on display. But you couldn’t deny the insane attractiveness of the way his hips lifted off of the bed, the arch in his back, and the way his thighs trembled. His breathing turned into short gasps as he came, incoherent babbles of half formed words escaping as he rode out his high, listening to your encouraging words of how beautiful he looked, but one of the gasps was one of shock and not pleasure when your last sentence reached his ears.

“Don’t stop until I tell you to, baby.” 

Matt adored being overstimulated, the balance of pleasure and pain making him cry but desperately beg for more. You didn’t plan on pushing him through more than one orgasm tonight, but he was definitely going to finish riding out this wave as long as he could, and you were enjoying listening to his moans turn into whines, his whimpers turning more sob-like. You didn’t tell him to stop until he was nearly crying, the pleasure bordering on the pain that came before pushing through to another orgasm, and his chest was heaving as he removed his hand from himself.

“Did perfect for me, honey.”

He gave you a tired smile, chest still rising and falling harshly as he came down from the effects of his pleasure, his mind seemingly in a state of natural high. You showered him with praise as he laid there for a moment, before softly instructing him to clean himself up. Your gentle push was enough to get him moving, wiping himself off and washing his hands before pulling on clean boxers and pajama pants, crawling back into bed.

“I wish you were here.”

You smiled at his words.

“I wish I was too. I’ll be there soon, don’t worry.” 

And you’d be sure to bring the sheer dress you’d worn tonight.

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