#and release it when you're understimulated

[bogleech]

So like, in people without ADHD, your brain enters a kind of anticipatory state when you're going to do something - anything at all, as small as getting a drink of water or as big as paying your rent - and then releases the reward juices when you actually do it, after which the brain, with or without your input, will attempt to hurry your thoughts along to a different unfinished task. You like to think you control all of this consciously, that you decide you're gonna do stuff and you decide when it's done and then you pick some other stuff, but a lot of it really is automated. So, the sinister thing about ADHD is that when your brain is unable to release normal adequate levels of the reward chemicals, it doesn't have a strong frame of reference for when a task has been accomplished in real life. It doesn't experience a big enough difference between merely planning out the action and performing the action, so when you sit there and you think about what you should do and you go through the steps of it in your head, the single celled idiots who live in there feel like you basically just did all of those things and they celebrate a job well done with their pathetic little squirt of endorphins and they mark it off your to-do list.

And because those same inadequate reward juices also fuel your working memory, they very easily forget about the task altogether, which means the conscious part of you is highly likely to also forget whether you did that thing or even if it ever needed doing at all, and the little idiots dig through their files to alert you to something else they want to go over. But sooner or later the conscious part of you is going to pick up on the cues that there was something you meant to do and you didn't do, maybe seconds later or maybe days later, who the hell knows. Then you think about how you're going to do it and your little guys think "oh shit we're doing this again? Huh weird but GOOD JOB AGAIN EVERYONE!" and this can continue on a loop until the sun goes down and all you did since you woke up was scroll social media. This is not exclusive to ADHD, though; ADHD is when this is life-alteringly chronic. There are many other reasons your brain might be understimulated and not making its own coffee like it's supposed to. Neurotypical people might just experience this whenever they're tired enough. If it's 24/7/365 to the point that a lot of people just think you're flaky or lazy or apathetic, that might be ADHD. Your idiots are in there play-pretending your whole productive life without you.

[meowpupp]

tw// rough sex, bondage, not proof read, price is mean (shock horror ik)

i wasn’t gonna post this yet but i just couldn’t resist.

price tries so hard. He is an owner who firmly believes in positive re-enforcement, praising you when you're good, and ignoring you when you're bad. But even he has a limit.

For the past week, you've been a brat. You've broken into the treats twice, ignored his commands and you even tried to bite him. He tries everything he knows, spanking you, taking your toys away, even smacking you across the face, but nothing works.

That's when he decides enough is enough. You need a real mean punishment, something to remind you how nice he is. How well he treats you.

So, he visits the vet. He buys a cream that’s made to numb the skin. Its specially made for hybrids, to use as a form of punishment. It'll take away any physical feeling, leaving you understimulated, while still keeping that uncontrollable need for release.

Part of price feels bad, he shouldn't enjoy the thought of fucking you while you can't feel a thing as much as he does, but he really cant help it

He waits, like a predator stalking prey, watching for the smallest slip up. All it takes is for you to speak with the slightest hint of attitude, and then he pounces.

within seconds he has you on the bed, legs spread, cunt exposed to his sadistic gaze. One hand holds your thighs apart, the other reaching for the tube of numbing cream. Your eyes are wide as you watch, your body squirming. A mix of fear and curiosity courses through your veins and it only heightens when price slaps your thigh. “Stay still.”

Your clit twitches as he smears the cold, white cream over it. He grins, watching the way your thighs tense and your hips buck. Price revels in the slow realisation that spreads over your face, you cant feel a thing.

your thighs twitch, ears pressing flat against your head as your pout. “can’t- price! can’t feel anything!” your voice is high pitched, slightly panicked, your hands reach down to try to stimulate your clit.

price huffs, momentarily pausing his actions as he retrieves a pair of handcuffs, securing both your wrists to the head board.

your body stretches out, back forming a natural arch as you’re rendered helpless. you try to squirm but it’s fruitless. your body is completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

price grins, eyes devouring the image of you. his hands grope your tits, thumbs brushing across your nipples before he glides his hands further down. they follow the curve of your waist, his hands big enough to cover almost your entire stomach.

“so pretty, but such a brat,” it’s almost as if he’s talking to himself, eyes half lidded as they drift up and down your body. “maybe you learn to be a good girl if your cunt is numb.” he leans forward, kissing the hallow of your neck. his lips continue their trail, beard brushing your skin as he kisses down your chest, then stomach, until his face is level with your cunt.

he noses your clit, grinning when you don’t react. the cream is doing exactly what he wanted it to. “what’s wrong pup?” his breath is hot against you, beard itching your thighs, “doesn’t it feel good?” his eyes meet yours, lower half of his face buried between your legs.

they’re mean, filled with amusement at your inability to feel pleasure. his arms wrap around your thighs, burying himself fully in your cunt.

he laps at your clit, swirling his tongue around the nerves before sucking. all you can feel is the scratch of his beard, the way he holds you firm. your hands pull desperately against the cuffs, hips bucking into his face as you seek the pleasure you’ve become so accustomed to.

after a moment, once his face is covered in slick, he pulls back. his beard is slick, eyes sharp as he looks over your flushed form. he almost seems like a predator, enjoying your every twitch and whine. “i know, im so mean, aren’t i?” a hand comes to your tummy, rubbing over the soft pudge before moving to your cunt, “how bout i make you feel better, hm?”

you’re too busy babbling and squirming to notice how he coats two of his fingers in the numbing cream, right before he stuffs your cunt full with them.

the sensation of his fingers inside you only lasts a second, then it’s completely stripped away. it’s almost funny the way your cunt clenches around his fingers, seeking out an ounce of stimulation it can. price laughs under his breath, drinking in the scene. you’re panting, body tense and hot, the overwhelming need to cum burning in your gut. he tilts his head, a sick smirk spreading across his face.

“you look so pathetic,” he pulls his fingers out, wiping the slick on your thighs, “maybe i should take some photos, give them to my recruits,” he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his, “would you like that? knowing men you don’t even know are cumming on photos of you?”

you can barely process his words, tears starting to stream down your face. little whimpers fill the room, a pretty pout on your face.

price just laughs, shaking your head side to side roughly before letting go. his hands slide down to your thighs, spreading your cunt wide as he lines himself up. “let’s see if this cunt’s still useful, even if you can’t feel a fucking thing.”

[ckret2]

So in no way am I excusing his actions but does Bill have autism or what on his planet could be considered as such? Better yet does such a thing exist on his planet? Any form of neurodivergency?

I'm sure neurodivergence exists on his planet, in the sense that I'm sure there's a "typical" way shapes' brains develop & operate—by definition, neurotypical—and it would be stupid to assume that every single shape that ever existed had brains that operated the exact same way; so obviously any shape that isn't neurotypical would be, by definition, neurodivergent. To say a species doesn't have neurodivergency would be to say the species has zero variation in how the members' brains function, and that's pretty dumb worldbuilding unless you're saying that for a reason and plan to explore it.

However I'm not interested in stating "there's flatland autism" or "there's flatland [any other specific kind of neurodivergence]" because saying they have a specific common divergence from the norm that's observed in humans means also saying their norm is the same as humans' norm (or else that specific divergence from the norm couldn't exist). Like I realize for the sake of convenience we're all out here writing these aliens as basically similar to humans in psychology, I've made peace with that, but that doesn't mean I want to medically codify them as "literally just human brains in alien bodies."

Compared to human neurotypes, I do not write Bill as autistic. I do write Bill as ADHD-adjacent. "Adjacent" because I don't necessarily think he was born that way; but "brain wired to release chemicals wrong so you feel chronically understimulated" vs "you've been bored for the last billion years so you ARE chronically understimulated" will probably both produce a lot of the same symptoms. Brain fizzles out trying to focus on boring tasks; constantly seeking the path of least resistance to the nearest quick hit of stimulation; boredom is intolerably painful and chronic boredom feels like depression. Impulse control nonexistent. Sometimes trying to get up and do things feels like turning a car key and just hearing the engine sputter. Some executive function skills (like time management) may have gotten lost during the trillion years he didn't need to practice them (who needs to manage time when you can time travel?). Cannot stop talking; impatient with other people who don't stop talking. Can latch onto a project and work on it without a break for the next 10,000 years.

Again, this is compared to humans. I'm not interested in making any statement on whether compared to other shapes he has pseudo-ADHD or not. I do not factor the Experience Of Growing Up Neurodivergent In A Neurotypical Society into how I write his backstory. By shape standards he was perceived as a weird kid, but for medical reasons, not mental ones.

[fadeintocase]

Ever since u released buzzified, and after watching ur streams, it got me thinking. Do u think that “mental illness” dx’s (depression, anxiety, psychosis, mania, ocd) are actual illnesses? Or rather (wrt suburbanites) a result of cellular inflammation, consuming large amts of hfcs, an intellectually understimulating environment, etc. and an excuse to weaponize shitty behavior? or (wrt the working class) a tool used by psychiatry to further marginalize ppl? And/or a manifestation of trauma?

oh boy. there's nuance to this. I think there's a whole clusterfuck of bad ways to look at things that meet at a head and result in our current outlook on mental health.

There's a lot, but let me try to consolidate all my feelings the best i can.

First off, i do not think our society is built to produce a "neurotypical" brain by default, and i don't think it has for decades now. Social media, engagement, parasocial communication and reaction baiting prioritized over actual socialization, everything bo burnham talks about in interviews. That's all very real.

Secondly, i believe the commonly understood meaning of "neurotypical" is completely fanciful. It's a hypothetical ideal state that can be measured against, but i do not know if i have ever in my life met a "neurotypical" person. I've seen well adjusted people that certainly have SOMETHING they are adjusting well to, and i've seen people who seem "normal" completely fall apart mentally over a matter of years. The truth is, as i see it, the brain has a lot of plasticity, and there can be healthy routines, unhealthy routines, structures too rigid they burn people out, and structures too loose they spiral into chaos. These structures and routines can be built by someone's own choices and actions, or put upon them from their environment because of their situation. These cycles are like 90% of what "mental health" is on its face.

Thirdly, i think there is a kind of clinicalization of mental health that aims to treat and alleviate symptoms, in the way that most medicine does, but that does not emphasize and sometimes even OBFUSCATES the effects of and need for positive behavioral and environmental changes. (With regard to working class people, a lot of these things, like having the right amount of rest or liesure time to activity time, work-life balance, proper diet, etc. are certainly class-gated.)

Fourth(ly), i think this clinicalization works really well for people in PMC classes, (who are generally the kind to live in the curly-q suburbs i talk about in If-Then), because the pressures they impress upon themselves are usually stable and structured. You get up and get in your SUV and drive from your suburb to your job, stop at a starbucks to get way too much caffiene and sugar for one human in one day, find an excuse to be mean to a coworker because you haven't finished your coffee yet, have one misunderstanding with a boss that's suddenly the worst thing ever, carry those bad feelings all day, stop at target on the way back, and routinely cuss out the cashier for SOMETHING, then go home and drink too much wine for one human in one day and wake up feeling sick and tired so you go wake up and get your coffee again and hate your life all day for another day again. Eventually when you burn your body out enough that torturing your endocrine system isn't cutting it anymore, you get on a medication and now have to make sure you don't drink that bottle of wine every night. Suddenly your routine which you always had just feels easier and you start posting things like "if you're happy and you know it, it's your meds". Also because the demographics of ppl like this tend to have their health care covered or at least affordable to them, and tend to hit enough other boxes that doctors consider "typical", a mentally unwell patient like this will be considered more meaningful than someone of a lower class that doctors subconsciously won't regard as civilized enough. I see a lot of people who could benefit massively from some of the things afforded to more privileged people, but they just don't have the right job with the right benefits or sometimes even the right schedule to make needed doctors' visits viable. So much of the pressures that lower-class people have to face will result in healthy reactions from the body. Senses of anxiety around safety, or food or developed compulsions to check things may actually be SENSIBLE REACTIONS to their environment. Their anxiety may be justified and REAL. The depression and hopelessness some people feel may actually be an accurate assessment of their situation. And there is nothing that medicating those feelings can do to help the effects their situation is having on their health.

Fifth(ly), yes absolutely i believe over-sugared cellular inflammation, over-caffienation, latent hangovers, sleep deprivation, the increase of CO2 in the atmosphere, i think all of these things can collectively chip away at your body and your brain's ability to function. I think the pressures especially forced on class brakets that take on more labor are absolutely depriving them of basic needs and replacing them with bullshit toxicity that makes its way into our cultural staples. I believe that our job market and our economy and our political reality can lead people to very real and very informed and very accurate states of hopelessness and nihilism. The only hope for this is to fix our system.

Sixth, America in particular is BUILT on self-exceptionalism. Everyone wants to be part of something, but also wants an excuse to be unique as a part of that something, not like the other girls, or "yeah doing this bare minimum thing every human being needs for homeostasis doesn't work for me, (so i'd rather not do it than trying and possibly sacrificing this part of my personality)." When i was a teen i saw a million people do the "I'm so dark. deranged, insane... i'm so twisted, you will never understand me." And looking back, it was a coin flip chance whether they self-DX'd and kept up the same bit with a more specific diagnosis, or whether they just decided one day it was more beneficial to be normal and they dropped the act. This culture hasn't gone away in the decade and a half since i was 15. We millennials already know about the "doing dishes is a trigger for me" suburbanite roommate meeting the "i wanted a found family that wouldn't constantly stress me about finances but all of you motherfuckers are children i am now raising" working class roommate. It's just easier to be broken, more unique to be broken, and more burden to be working. The privileged know this. Upper classes have far more experience with being rewarded for crying your way out of responsibility.

Seventh, There are certainly real mental illnesses, and there are real purposes for those diagnoses. I've seen people's with schizofrenia and how it melts their psyche. I've seen people with DID (not the fun RP-pretend kind) who just got less and less able to grasp reality over time, on a literal neurological level. But more often than not, if a kid tiktok or tumblr with their clean nice clothes in their clean nice room is going off finding a way to compartmentalize all of their personality traits into symptoms of diagnoses they haven't gotten, it's probably Munchausen's syndrome.

also, please let me express, NO ONE EVER TELLS YOU THAT SEROTONIN AND MELATONIN ARE BOTH MADE FROM TRYPTOPHAN. TRYPTOPHAN BECOMES SEROTONIN WHICH IS THEN CONVERTED INTO MELATONIN IF YOU NEED IT. NO ONE EVER EXPLAINS THIS? NO ONE EVER, IN MY HOPPING OF MEDS AND MY QUESTIONS ABOUT "HOW DO I MAKE MORE SEROTONIN" EVER TOLD ME THAT YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING MORE FUCKING VEGETABLES AND SLEEPING WHEN YOU ARE TIRED! IF YOU FEEL TIRED THAT'S THE MELATONIN AND IF YOU DON'T SLEEP YOU'RE BURNING THROUGH ALL OF THE SEROTONIN YOUR BODY IS MAKING! I HAD TO RESEARCH THIS MYSELF AND EVERY DOCTOR AND BIOLOGIST I'VE CHECKED THIS WITH HAS SAID "THAT'S PRETTY MUCH CORRECT." BUT THE WAY THINGS ARE EVERY PSYCHIATRIST WILL SOONER TELL YOU THAT YOU SIMPLY CANNOT MAKE MORE SEROTONIN AND YOU NEED AN SSRI TO DO THAT. AND THAT IS WRONG. IT'S INCORRECT.

YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING TRYPTOPHAN AND THEN SLEEPING.

YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING TRYPTOHAN AND THEN SLEEPING.

YOU CAN MAKE MORE SEROTONIN BY EATING TRYPTOPHAN AND THEN SLEEPING.

and our whole society is built on keeping you from doing fucking anything but that and then selling you a solution. Mental illnesses are very real, but we are all sick, and we do not care to get better.

[vampireyuuta]

includes: gn! reader, aged up! megumi, edging, riding, kinda angsty, casual by chappell roan starts playing

inspired by this @samaraxmorgan post

you and megumi are not in a relationship. not a real one anyway. he’s always been so painfully emotionally stubborn. there was no way for you two to end up really in love.

of course, he doesn't hate you or anything—he just wants sex, something casual. he’s a pretty honest guy, so what reason do you have to believe it's anything more than just fwb?

well, there's actually three reasons.

1. the way he talks about you.

your friends know about you two's weird thing. (after one too many times of discovering not-very-well hidden hickeys on megumi, you kinda had to fess up). and, while megumi’s never been one for bragging on people, he brags heavily on you.

after particularly intense hookups, his usual dry texts to yuuji turn into way too detailed rambles about the happenings of the night prior. yuuji stopped questioning the why—i mean, he’s never been one for sharing many personal details, so why does he tell yuuji every single thing about your bedroom life?—and just grabbed a bowl of popcorn.

the pink haired boy does get a little suspicious when the texts that are essentially a smut retelling turn a little too romantic. words like beautiful and gorgeous, intimate, sweet—words megumi doesn't really use. he quirks his brow, but doesn't question it. you are beautiful after all.

2. how he acts with you and only with you.

megumi fushiguro does is put-together, smart, serious. megumi fushiguro is a lot of things, but he is not a mess. yet, when you're naked, kneeling between his legs, worshipping his cock like you’ll die without it: he is a mess. his pale skin is blushed pink all over like a perfect rose in bloom. he might cry from overstimulation? understimulation? he’s not sure, but it's a good feeling.

the way you lick his tip with one hand stroking his length and the other fondling his balls has him feeling something he can't quite place, something he’s never quite felt before.

“you're so pretty,” is all he’s thinking the entire time—well, other than “don't cum, don't cum, don't cum.”

he’s writhing and chewing down on his bottom lip until blood stains his pearly whites. however, for whatever goddamn reason, he begs you stop right before he cums. you feel him pulsating in your mouth, in your hand. you feel so accomplished everytime you make him cum—and you should. but, you're suddenly pulled away by your hair with a pitchy “stop!”

he blushes again, and goes silent for a moment as you hoarsely ask him why’d he stop. he finally picks his voice back up and mumbles something about how he doesn't want it to end yet. normally, megumi would find it humiliating to admit that he wants somebody to edge him, but something about you, something about how you treat him, makes him not so embarrassed. huh.

so it becomes a routine, one thay gets progressively more dirty each time you two see each other. it goes from pulling back when giving him head maybe once or twice before letting his spend fill your pretty mouth to having full control of when he cums. when he’s inside of your perfect hole, he’s begging for permission to cum, but you just tut and tell him to “wait a little longer, handsome.” (unfortunately for megumi, it's more than a little longer). again, giving someone else control over his body? what a degrading thing, he’d rather die than admit that's what he wants. but, with you, it just works.

when you're bouncing up and down on his cock as he whines—such an odd sound to hear from megumi’s mouth—for release or something, anything you’ll give him. you grin wickedly still, brushing some of the hair sticking to his forehead. “what's the magic words?” you croon teasingly, the s an accident, but you're too caught up in the way his dick slamming against each perfect spot deep inside you with each drop down of your hips to notice your slurred speech.

3. “i love you.”

he says it breathlessly, like it was something that fit right in, something apart of your weird routine. the rolling of your hips stutter, your entire body freezing rigid. you're both silent for a moment, then two, then too many.

“w-what?” you finally ask as if you didn't hear him. you heard him as clear as day, better than you’d ever heard anything before.

he lets his eyes open, heavy, wet lashes fluttering. he, too, knows you heard him.

“sorry,” he grouses. his normal stoicism, the front he puts on, seems to have slipped back into him. though, his apology means nothing. he doesn't know why, but it felt so right to say that, to love you. is this even love?

no, this is sex. that's what he's telling himself, because it's what you definitely think. you two try to avoid kissing, sometimes even eye contact to keep it from feeling too intimate or romantic. it's just sex. an excuse to get off without being alone or to blow off from some steam. this isn't love.

he wants it to be love.

how could this be love?

maybe it's actually always been love. maybe that's why he says those things about you, why he lets you treat him the way you do, why you two are even doing this in the first place.

“it's alright,” you mumble after far too long.

you go back to your efforts, but there's such a difference in the atmosphere that neither of you can deny. your whole body feels heavy, so does the air, so does everything. it's suffocating. you don't edge him anymore, don't say anything actually. you just let him cum.

his cock twitches inside of you, his head hung in a mix of shame and pleasure as the sticky white load spills inside you. and—maybe on accident, maybe on purpose—the words slip from his lips again:

“i love you.”

[ink-the-artist]

My Epic New Invention For ADHD That Will Put Big Adderall Out Of Business

[lunar-fey]

understimulated. grrrr bark snarl

[kookiecrumb]

hi, isaa. maybe two and/or thirteen for the punishment/rewards?

“Did you leave the plug/vibe in all day like I told you to?”

and

“Put on a show for daddy/mommy/master/mistress.”

These are definitely a challenge for me. They're not my favorite, if I'm honest. I can make them work though.

-

jhs || Anticipation

pairing: multimillionaire!hoseok x fem!reader

warnings: smut (18+), fingering (f), toys (vibrator), sexual punishment, unprotected sex *(don't do this), daddy kink (DDLG), pussy tastin', horny grinding

-

You have a corporate job. It's long and hard and boring... and it's completely unnecessary because your boyfriend is a millionaire. You're just waiting until he pops the question so that you can retire and live off of his riches.

You're no freeloader, though.

You pay for it with your body, and you enjoy every minute of it because Jung Hoseok is an absolute sweetheart of a boyfriend...and his cock is huge.

There are times, though, that your boyfriend's requests are extra cruel.

He knows he has the upper hand, so he makes ridiculous sexual requests just because he can.

You shouldn't have maxed out your monthly allowance.

This morning, after your morning session, he insisted that you leave your least-satisfying vibrator inside of you as you worked.

All day, you've been grinding against your work chair, hoping that it was subtle enough that nobody noticed. It was a challenge, but it only made you anticipate tonight's release more.

So, when the workday is over, you walk your way all the way back to your Bentley-- a birthday gift-- and drive home to your New York penthouse.

It's a short drive. Five o'clock traffic is a nightmare, so you choose to avoid it completely by leaving a little later.

As soon as you got to work, you wanted to run into the bathroom and remove the toy, but you dreaded the punishment that would await you once you got home. You knew you needed to endure it for him.

Knowing Hoseok, he'd want to spread your legs as soon as you got home and watch you writhe under him. He wants a show out of you.

Your legs shake as you enter the elevator, holding your purse in anticipation of his judgement.

Taking a deep breath in, you step out on the 56th floor.

“Did you leave the vibe in all day like I told you to?” He asks, his hands in his pockets as he greets you right as you walk in.

You nod, putting your things down and slipping your jacket off.

He catches it and hangs it up casually. "Yes?" He presses.

"Yes, yeah..." you whine, a little annoyed.

"Someone's pouty...poor baby~" he wraps his arms around you, hugging you. "You just need to be fucked senseless, hm?"

You nod rigorously. "Mhmm..."

"Can't even wait to be carried into the bedroom...I want to get that toy out of you, baby..." Hoseok's thumb strokes your cheek.

You bite your lip, closing your legs tightly. "Please...I can't stand it...really," you pout.

"I see that. Spread your legs on the couch for me, give me a show."

Carefully, he splays you on his white leather couch and loops his fingers around your exposed panties.

He feels for the toy and pushes it in teasingly with his fingers. You spread yourself further, hoping to induce more friction on your frustrated cunt. "Hhah," you breathe.

"That's a good girl...all day, I can feel it from how reactive you are, baby..." he growls softly, as his hands touch you fluidly.

You pull off your panties and position yourself so that he has a full view of your cunt swallowing the toy. Riding his fingers in concentration, you roll into his touch.

Hoseok smiles. "I love it when you're confident. You know your pussy is so pretty, don't you, princess?"

"Yess~" you moan happily. "Mmmhh~"

Without warning, he pulls the small vibrator from inside of you, leaving you completely understimulated. "!! Why--" you catch yourself.

He shoots a deadly stare at you. You immediately regret any kind of protest. Fuck.

"Why don't I just extend your punishment for another day?" He teases. "I don't know...Should I?"

"Noooo!" you whimper. "No, daddy!"

"I didn't think so."

You're gaping for him, and he simply can't pass up the chance to taste you. With a single swipe, he gathers your arousal on his index finger and sucks it clean, delighted.

You have to keep from bucking up in the air from lack of stimulation. His cock is hard against his sweats...if only he'd come just a little closer so that you'd have his thick bulge to rub against...

You need to use your words. "Can I please have your cock to rub on, Daddy?" You ask, sweetly.

His eyes meet yours, innocently. "Yeah! Mhm..." Hoseok lowers himself so that you can grind against him needily.

You sigh out a long, airy moan. He's so warm!

"Good girl, using your words..." he hums near your ear, kissing your jaw. "I like you like this, a sweet girl...I might fuck you nice and hard, hm?"

"Yess~" you sing, your swollen clit rubbing deliciously against his shaft. You need it so fucking bad that you're about to explode, you're sure of it.

"Take control of me...I'm so wet..." you whine.

Hoseok grabs your ass and rocks you on his clothed cock, kissing your lips in a tangent as you rock on one another. "Beautiful cunt has been waiting to be fucked full of my cum since this morning..." he growls.

"Yes, all fucking day I've been needing your dick, please fill me up, stretch me good...I wanna feel it," you moan in a string of mumbled words.

He snaps up against you and pulls his sweats down. Your hands reach down to guide him towards your entrance, coating him in your arousal in the process.

He penetrates you as his mouth sucks deliberate claims on your neck and on your collar. You wince, surprised by how ready you were to take him. You stretch nicely, accommodating for his massive cock with little to no struggle.

"Hoseok~!" You gasp.

He smirks against your skin, continuing to mark you with no restraint, repositioning you so that he can accurately thrust his cock inside you.

You scratch his back, digging your nails into his skin as he pounds into you.

You're gonna cum fast if he doesn't relent. The way he's licking into your mouth isn't helping.

"Daddy I'm gonna cum-- I'm gonna cum!!" You warn, your orgasm building at an alarming rate.

"Yeah, baby? Cream on my dick. Show me how grateful you are to have such a generous Daddy," he groans.

You squeeze your eyes shut and convulse wildly around him, tensing your legs and your arms euphorically. "Fuck-- ohhh fuck," you sigh.

His cum fills you, his body shaking over yours as his hips thrash forward. His chain falls on your face, causing you to blink.

"Ah,," he smiles. "Sorry babe."

"That's okay~" you break out into a relaxed smile. "That was so worth it..."

"Does that mean you want to do it again tomorrow?"

"Sure, but it's your turn," you tease.

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Huh?"

You laugh.

"What do you mean by that?!"

-

:)

[sunaddicted]

Prompt if you're still taking them? James/Q I want to go home. thanks! <3

I’m late and this is a gratuitously angsty drabble, I’m sorry lol

***

Q couldn’t remember a time when his perception hadn’t been so narrowed.

There was the dark room to see, details barely visible in its twilight; not that there was anything noteworthy to see - four walls, a ceiling, a floor.

There was the incessant dripping of stagnant water to listen to, desperately awaiting for its rhythm to change because maybe it meant that something - anything - was going to happen. Good or bad, it didn’t really matter.

There was the roughness of the walls to feel; the humid porosity of the floor, the roughness of James’ hand that tightened around his whenever panic seemingly choked him and breathing became nearly impossible.

Q had never thought that being so understimulated could be so painful; every single one of his senses craved release, for something different than what they had been forced to perceive in that cell day in, day out.

Nothing ever changed.

It was maddening .

Even more maddening was James’ apparent indifference to it all.

A part of Q - the more rational one that had retreated to a far corner of his mind and that peeked out less and less everyday - knew that the agent was just behaving according to his training. He probably didn’t even notice his unnatural stillness, nor the strange calm that came from hism in thick waves that made Q feel only more destabilized and imprepared; with as much experience as James had, his training had probably kicked in without the man having to do a conscious decision - a survival instinct, something that being in plenty of situations like their own must have honed in to perfection.

“I want to go home” his own voice was startling to hear, Q could barely recognise it - if only it hadn’t hurt so much to speak, he probably would have doubted that he was the one speaking.

“I know Q, me too”

(Continues on ao3)