#and soon my brain will explode with the impossibility

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[theblehthatbloos]

You have been seen

You know the great thing about my Tumblr?

I'm invisible. Nobody sees me. I'm essentially talking to the void. This will get no notes.

Watch this:

I'm trans. I'm a girl and I'm SUPER bisexual. I like everybody. Girls are hot. Guys are hot. NBs are hot. Trans people are hot. I like to dress and act and be really super girly and I love flirting with people. It doesn't matter cuz this will get zero notes just like everything else I post on here.

Screw it. I'm not even done

This is me. A black trans bisexual.

I wrote an Ace/Aro person into my book. A trans person too. And one of the guys is gay. He literally has a big flirting scene with a guy in the book. It's pretty strongly suggested that they banged. As the author I can tell you; they did. It's the only sex scene even hinted at in the book and it's gay af.

Wanna know a secret? I think I've been in bed with a famous person. It's so crazy because I'm so terrible at famous people there's no way I'd have known who he was unless he straight up told me. But I did get the inkling he was somebody important by him talking about his soho apartment in New York. And the fact that he was staying in one of the nicest and most expensive hotels in Houston at the time.

And yes,bbtw. I was not aware of my being trans yet. And he was a man. This was a gay interaction. A very gay interaction. I'm bi. But you don't care cuz you're not even reading this.

Anyway yeah I love Tumblr. Nobody notices me

[strayingawayy]

series: love me two times

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

chapter 2: trending naked

read introduction here

chapter 1

word count: 2500 words

WARNINGS: strong language, sexual content, emotional manipulation, toxic family dynamics, power imbalances, alcohol use, eventual gun violence, blood and injury, blackmail, surveillance, themes of control, secrecy, betrayal, repression, psychological tension under the guise of romance, dubious business dealings, manipulation via arranged marriage, and consistent, unapologetically bad decision making from most, if not all, characters involved. british humour. in case you all pussy out from that.

A/N: after a month of banging my head, here's chapter 2. i'm not that proud to present it but i sincerely hope you all enjoy it. to a certain extent atleast.

playlist.

─── Some things weren’t meant to be seen.

Not by cameras. Not by friends. Certainly not by the entire world before breakfast. Some truths weren’t meant to come out, not this fast, not like this, and definitely not with a scandal trending in thirty countries.

And some mornings…

Well, some mornings arrive like a car crash in slow motion—silent, bloody, and impossible to stop. This was one of those mornings.

And by nightfall, it wouldn’t be the only thing that had exploded.

Because the scandal was just foreplay.

Minho doesn’t give too many fucks. That, perhaps, is exactly why the media can’t get enough of him. His reputation for ignoring paparazzi—walking past flashbulbs like they were beneath him, brushing off scandal like lint from his shoulders—only fuels the curated image the world has built for him: rich, cold, handsome.

The kind of man who never apologises, never chases, never looks back.

A man with cufflinks that cost more than most people’s rent and a gaze sharp enough to file lawsuits.

He never fails to live up to the version people have conjured of him: an aloof enigma who seems to have stepped straight out of a bloody Wattpad story with a dark past, a tailored coat, and a five-star attitude. Ice in his veins. Designer cologne on his skin. The untouchable heir to a corporate empire.

Which is why it was, in fact, utterly unacceptable that he had woken up to find himself trending worldwide.

Naked.

Trending naked.

His bed, once a haven of order and pristine thread counts, was now a battlefield of duvet limbs and existential panic. And just as he stirred—blissfully unaware that his dignity had been annihilated in high definition—his bedroom door was kicked open with the force of a raid.

“BLOODY HELL, MINHO, WAKE UP, YOU ABSOLUTE WEAPON!”

Three things happened in rapid succession.

First: his brain registered Han Jisung’s voice at an inhumane decibel level.

Second: his eyes opened to the sight of said menace launching himself bodily onto the bed.

Third: he was being shaken so violently he momentarily forgot his own name.

“YOU’RE ON THE NEWS,” Jisung screamed, as though this were the beginning of a film and not, as it would turn out, the single most embarrassing day of Minho’s entire existence. As though the evening of the engagement wasn't enough.

Minho groaned, shoving weakly at Jisung’s hyperactive limbs. “So? I’m always on the news.”

Jisung’s eyes went white with incredulity. “NOT LIKE THIS.”

As if summoned by the very chaos vibrating through the room, Changbin barrelled in behind him, phone clutched in hand, screen already aglow with doom.

And there it was.

The headline that would haunt Minho for the rest of his natural life, and potentially a few reincarnations after that:

LEE MINHO & FIANCÉ(E)’S PRIVATE MOMENT LEAKED — SCANDAL OR SECRET LOVE STORY?

Minho blinked. “...Private moment?”

Jisung, ever helpful, snatched the phone from Changbin with the reflexes of a pickpocket (we’re going to ignore his experience in this regard) and began scrolling like a man possessed.

“The media’s trying to be classy about it,” he muttered, squinting at the article, “but, mate, it’s a full-blown sex tape.”

“That’s not possible,” Minho said, more to the universe than anyone in the room.

Changbin inhaled slowly, as if preparing to deliver last rites. “Oh, but it is.”

Jisung tapped ‘play’.

And there.

There.

On the screen: Minho. You. A luxury hotel bed with gold-accented sheets. Your leg hiked over his shoulder like a Cirque du Soleil audition. The unmistakable cadence of debauchery. There was a brief moment of hope—it could be someone else, blurry or cropped footage—

But no.

There was his face, though not evidently visible but definitely his. His body. His hair slightly mussed in that aesthetically criminal way. And then—just to ensure he’d never sleep again—audio.

“Oh my God,” Minho breathed, horror pooling behind his eyes like storm clouds.

Changbin nudged him, eyes still on the screen. “Bro, you gripped the headboard.”

Han let out a noise so ungodly it might’ve summoned spirits. “Nah, why did Y/N tell you to shut up and you actually did?”

Minho’s hand shot out, slamming the phone screen-down against the mattress like it would do him any good. “I am going to pass away.”

But alas. The gods of disgrace were only just getting started.

Because the next moment?

Jisung—bright, chipper, and holding a remote like a harbinger of doom—turned on the television.

And there, in crisp HD on national news, was a panel of analysts dissecting Minho’s thrusting technique.

“So, if you pause at 1:15, we see Minho taking the lead.”

“Briefly.”

“Right, so that’s where you can see the power shift. Minho thinks he’s leading, but actually Y/N takes control.”

“Fascinating power dynamic. Wonder if that’ll affect the company in the future. And at 2:03, we see a rare moment of desperation—”

“And a rare moment of his perky arse—”

Minho buried his face in his hands. “This is not happening.”

“This is the best day of my life,” Jisung corrected, practically vibrating with mirth.

And just when Minho thought he’d reached the peak of his humiliation—

The door slammed open.

You.

You looked like a mythological fury: hair askew, eyes burning with a fury that could level cities, your phone clutched so tightly it was a miracle it hadn’t shattered under the force of your wrath.

Minho had faced hostile shareholders. Ruthless competitors. Once, even a death threat from a rival conglomerate.

He had never been this afraid.

“YOU,” you spat, striding towards him like a vengeance incarnate.

“Me,” Minho squeaked.

You hurled your phone at him—a Samsung-shaped missile of fury. He only just managed to catch it before it smacked him between the eyes.

The screen?

A live press conference.

“We are deeply concerned by this invasion of privacy—”

“Yes, but let’s focus on the real issue. What does this mean for Lee Corp’s reputation?”

“More importantly, what does it mean for his stamina?”

Minho launched the phone across the room like it was cursed.

Han and Changbin were now weeping on the bed with laughter, occasionally slapping the duvet for oxygen. Like that would help.

“FIX THIS,” you snarled, stepping closer.

Minho gulped. “Okay. But, um, how?”

You were incandescent.

“I don’t know, Minho, maybe by explaining why THE WHOLE WORLD JUST WATCHED ME DOMINATE YOU IN A FIVE-STAR HOTEL?”

Jisung wheezed.

Changbin slid off the bed entirely.

Minho inhaled a dust bunny from the mattress and promptly choked on his own spit.

“First of all,” he croaked, his ears practically glowing, “I would not say ‘dominate’—”

You grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. Full force. Righteous and deserved.

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY.”

He held up both hands. “You’re right. Not funny. Very serious.”

You exhaled sharply, pacing now like a tiger in a cage.

“This is huge,” you muttered, half to yourself. “My career? Ruined. My name? Dragged through the mud. My family? Calling me to ask if I’ve ‘forsaken God’—”

Minho blinked. “Okay, that’s dramatic.”

You stopped dead, eyes wide.

“DRAMATIC? MINHO, I HAD TO BLOCK MY AUNT ON FACEBOOK BECAUSE SHE CALLED ME A JEZEBEL.”

A beat.

“…What century is she living in?”

“FOCUS.”

Minho sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

And for the first time since this entire trainwreck had begun, he really looked at you.

Your arms were folded tightly across your chest, jaw clenched so hard it trembled. Your breathing was uneven. And underneath the righteous fury, the fire, the rage—

He saw it.

Humiliation.

Fear.

This wasn’t just a scandal to you. This was your life. Your reputation. Your family.

Your safety.

Minho straightened, cleared his throat and managed to muster enough courage to find his voice.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. Calmer. “We’ll fix this.”

You laughed—a bitter, brittle thing. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Minho’s jaw locked.

He didn’t know.

Not yet.

But whoever had leaked that footage? Whoever had thought they could reduce you to gossip and grainy pixels? Humiliate you and smear your life across the tabloids like it was theatre?

They had made the single worst mistake of their lives.

And Lee Minho was going to make sure they regretted it.

•━━━━━━━━━━━•

Twenty minutes later, however, Minho was sitting in his office, head in his hands, while his PR team screamed at each other like contestants on a reality show.

“Do we deny?”

“We can’t deny! It’s him! We can literally see his face!”

“Okay, but how do we spin this?”

“Maybe say it was deepfake technology?”

“Oh, so AI Minho was out here breaking beds now?”

“WE NEED AN OFFICIAL STATEMENT!”

Minho groaned. “Jesus Christ, can everyone just—”

“Shut up?” one intern offered, ducking as a binder went flying across the room.

The office was a warzone. Papers. Coffee cups. Screaming. Someone crying softly in the corner. Possibly the Head of Crisis Communications. Hard to tell through the chaos.

Minho sat slumped at the conference table like a cursed prince in a kingdom of flaming paperwork, flanked by twelve PR specialists and zero solutions.

He hadn’t even had coffee.

“The stock’s dipped five percent in the last hour,” a voice piped up from the end of the table.

“Five?” another gasped.

“Six,” corrected a third, refreshing a graph with trembling fingers.

Minho exhaled through his nose. “So what I’m hearing is: we’re all doing really well.”

“I have a plan,” said a voice.

Silence.

All heads turned.

It was Felix.

Felix, in his immaculate blazer and pixel-perfect skin, who—until this very moment—had been watching from the window like a gothic Victorian ghost. Now, he stepped forward, chin raised, golden hair gleaming like divine retribution.

“You’re not going to like it,” he added, with the kind of grim solemnity usually reserved for war generals.

Minho gestured weakly. “Let’s hear it.”

Felix tapped his phone. The smart TV blinked to life.

LEE MINHO: THE MAN BEHIND THE HEADBOARD. A Love Story.

Minho said, “No.”

“Listen,” Felix said. “We lean in. We make it a love story. A passionate, uncontrollable, deeply consensual love story between two people thrown into an arranged engagement who—oh no!—accidentally fell into bed before marriage.”

“You are insane.”

“I’m a visionary, hyung.”

Jisung burst into the room. “It’s not insane. It’s working.”

“What?”

“Your ship tag is trending. #MinYN. There’s already a Tumblr fic called Cuffed By Fate and it’s got 4200 likes. Wish people reblogged more these days though.”

“In one hour?”

“Internet moves fast," Jisung supplies with a shrug, cheeks stuffed with grapes he had managed to grab in the midst of this chaos.

Changbin followed in, tablet in hand. “You’re not going to like this either—but your dad called.”

Minho sat up. “What?”

“He says this whole ‘sex tape’ thing? It’s good for business.”

Everyone stared.

“The engagement was polling terribly. Now people think it’s romantic. Reckless. There’s a petition for you two to star in a K-drama.”

Minho leaned back slowly.

“I want everyone out.”

They scrambled. PR scattered. Jisung took three pastries and saluted on the way out.

Only Minho, Chan, and Felix remained.

“I want to know who leaked it.”

Felix nodded, smile gone and work mode locked in as he adjusted his glasses. “We’re tracing the footage. CCTV. Remote access. Not an accident.”

“Who the fuck has that kind of access?” Minho’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

Chan’s arms folded, and for a heartbeat the room held its breath. Then, in a low, careful tone: “Someone high up. Someone close. Possibly… family.”

Minho felt the walls tilt. His mind raced—replaying every meeting, every forced smile, every curt nod exchanged with your father. Protection. Control. The words echoed in his skull.

Had the engagement ever been about safeguarding you—or about cementing ownership?

He pictured the hidden CCTV feed, the silent transmission, the deliberate timing. This wasn’t an accident. It was precision.

Minho’s chair scraped back as he stood. His pulse hammered in his ears. “Where are they?”

Chan hesitated. “Left with their father’s driver.”

“Willingly?” Minho’s question trembled on the edge of accusation.

Silence stretched. Then: “I’m not sure.”

Gears turned in Minho’s mind. Someone orchestrated this. Someone who knew every code, every security hole, every blind spot. Someone trusted. Someone inside.

He tugged on his coat, fingers brushing the gun at his hip. Outside, the city pulsed with oblivious life. But here—right here—Minho understood the stakes had just become lethal.

He stepped toward the door. His jaw clenched.

He only wished he knew the true target.

...

taglist: @imfoive @jisunggy @hyunebunx @peskybirdysya @rockstarkkami @knowbites @mischievousleeknow @thepoeticpurplepotato @artemesiareads @valreifang @alisonyus @jisuperboard @8minho @robinnotgood24 @sarahfirecrystals-blog @lmnhx @maskedcrawford @bluesoobinnie @butterflydemons @pinkpunkdynamite @stickymusictale @lazymfblog @krssliu @halesandy @vcordova1460 @gnusihcom @cutecucumberkimberly @coldcraftmusiclight @superwholockiancrackhead @starfishblobblob @privatespotyk @thingsiwannaseelater @loveunt0ld @showingmafandomlove @2minpov @hantaechan @skyinkpop-blog @helpijustgothere @herejusttemporary @kpopenthusiast143 @miyaluvvsyou @shuuporanglinos @abbiestearsricochet @pixie-felix @loxgirl2004 @met30c1ty @feelikecinderella @uhhhhhokay @moon0fthenight @cashtonsbetch

[wendyyyyyyyy]

OPERATION : Oblivious Idiots

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 : “Diner Blackout”

The air in Chan’s hotel room was thick with confusion. Everyone was trying to piece things together, their brains practically overheating from all the back-and-forth theorizing. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at your hands as your thoughts raced. Something about the description of the culprits—a manly woman and her husband—itched at the back of your mind. It was familiar. Too familiar.

Something was definitely feeling fishy.

A manly woman.

What if it wasn’t a woman at all?

A man… dressed up as a woman?

The revelation hit you like a truck. The shock. That would explain it, right? The buff build. The deep voice.

But why would someone go through all that trouble? To disguise themselves as a woman?

Because… they didn’t want their identity to be seen.

Why?

Because… they were someone you knew. Or maybe they just didn’t want to get caught.

They also knew Chan’s room number. That meant they were close to him.

You sat there, your mind spinning at a hundred miles per hour, but you kept it all to yourself. You didn’t reveal it to the members. Not yet. Not until you were sure.

And then— after more pondering, Chan pulled you aside.

⸻

Chan shut the balcony door behind him, sighing heavily. The breeze hit your skin, but you barely felt it. Your mind was still racing.

“I think I finally remember why I was half-naked last night,” he muttered, running a hand through his curls.

Your heart skipped. “You do?”

He nodded, leaning against the railing. “It was… just too hot. The meds I took made me sweat like crazy, and I was too out of it to care. I guess I must’ve woken up for a second, took my shirt off, and then passed out again.” He exhaled sharply. “And as far as I remember, you weren’t even there yet.”

Your lips parted slightly.

So that’s why.

Everything was starting to come together.

⸻

You went back into the room, Chan following closely behind.

The others were still deep in discussion, analyzing every single possible theory.

“We’re going with the idea of two sasaengs,” Jeongin said, crossing his arms.

Chan shook his head. “It’s impossible. You know how tight hotel security is. No way two randoms could get that close.”

“But the chance isn’t zero,” Jisung countered, hands thrown up in frustration. “Until we find actual proof, we can’t rule it out.”

And so, the discussion continued.

You stayed quiet, letting them run wild with possibilities while your mind kept circling the earlier moment on the balcony with Chan.

Still, the group needed something to work with, and they weren’t stopping anytime soon.

Lee Know suggested it could’ve been a hotel employee working undercover.

Felix guessed maybe it was a past sasaeng who had inside help.

Even Hyunjin got a little wild, throwing out the theory that maybe it wasn’t targeted at Chan at all—but at you.

That silenced the room for a moment.

That… actually didn’t sound entirely off.

And before anyone noticed, time flew by and it was already dinner time.

Jisung groaned and flopped back into the couch. “My head’s gonna explode. I need food before I lose it.”

Hyunjin immediately agreed. “Same. Let’s clear our heads and eat.”

Everyone gave in—brainstorming on an empty stomach never helped anyone.

⸻

The hotel diner was quiet, classy, dimly lit with gentle ambient music playing through overhead speakers. You all walked in together, exhausted but hungry. The long rectangular table near the back was where you settled in.

You were at the farthest left end, back to the entrance, eyes facing the wall. Jeongin was beside you, and across from you—Chan.

You caught him glancing at you every now and then, a worried crease still etched between his brows. That furrow never really went away after everything.

Dinner was calm.

Until it wasn’t.

Lee Know and Hyunjin got up first, deciding to grab some fruit from the island across the room. Seungmin went next—grabbing a large tray and carefully stacking nine cups of juice from the “serve yourself” counter.

The boy really tried.

He balanced everything with more grace than expected… until he tripped over the leg of a chair that had been pushed out halfway.

CRASH.

Nine cups hit the floor. Juice splattered everywhere.

“Shit—” Seungmin cursed, dropping to his knees to clean up.

“Hyung!” Jeongin was already up and rushing to help.

Felix scrambled behind him. Chan instinctively pushed himself up too, but his injured foot kept him grounded near the table.

You turned your head to check the mess—

And then.

Darkness.

The lights died instantly.

The music stopped.

Every bulb in the entire diner fizzled out in one terrifying blink.

A complete power outage.

Pitch black.

“Everyone stay where you are!” Chan’s voice rang out with that sharp, commanding edge only he had. “Don’t move—if anything happens, shout immediately!”

But before anyone could react—

Rough hands grabbed you.

A palm clamped over your mouth, muffling your instinctive scream. Arms locked tightly around your torso, and you felt yourself being yanked out of your chair, dragged backward through the darkness.

Muffled cries escaped you as you thrashed, kicked, tried anything—but the grip only tightened. You heard distant voices shouting your name, heard your chair fall over, heard Chan yelling over the chaos—

“Y/N?! Y/N!!”

There was another set of hands. Two people.

One held your mouth.

One dragged you.

Chan lunged in the dark.

He reached blindly—grabbing at air, cloth, skin—until finally, he caught something. An arm. Solid. Thick. Buff.

His fingers curled instinctively around it, but in a second, it pulled away.

And you?

Gone.

The blackout lasted fifteen more agonizing minutes.

When the lights finally flickered back on—

You weren’t there.

Your chair was tipped over. Your plate half-eaten. Your silverware on the floor. But no sign of you.

Just like that.

You’d been taken.

Right from under their noses.

And the pit in Chan’s stomach dropped so hard, he could barely breathe.

He clenched his fists, jaw set, trembling not from fear—but from fury.

Because whoever took you… they were strong.

And Chan knew exactly what he felt when he grabbed that arm.

Just like the manly woman the receptionist described.

Just like the theory you had been turning over in your mind.

This wasn’t just a prank or a misunderstanding.

This was planned.

Deliberate.

Dangerous.

And now, they had to find you.

Fast.

————————

Part 6

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

FICMAS - DAY 6 - SECRET SANTA

Title: Secret Santa

Synopsis: You have *no* clue what to get one of your two boyfriends for Christmas for secret santa

Warnings: This is m/m/f. That's really it?

AN: This WAS made with like... one mutual in mind, and I will continue to write JohnSimonReader because OML the concept is fun. Anyways eat. OH AND THIS WAS THE ONLY IMAGE OF THEM I COULD FIND?

"Out the 'at, c'mon," Simon shakes the cap--Kyle's hat he always wears on missions--with the little names on it. You pick a name, not opening it yet. 

Once everyone has a name, John's voice is heard, "'Right, everyone. All you 'ave t'do is buy a gift, limit being £40 in price, for the person on your slip o'paper by Christmas Eve."

You nod, along with the other men, and John adjourns the meeting.

As soon as you're in your quarters, you're reading your slip of paper.

Simon. One of your two boyfriends in your cursed little love circle. 

You huff, unsure of what to get him, so you phone John. "John?" You answer the phone as soon as he picks up.

"Yes, dovie?" He responds, a little confused, "Everythin's okay?"

"Yes, it's about Si. What.. what do I get him for Christmas?"

A bark of laughter escapes his lips, "So *tha's* who ya got? I'd reckon you dressin' up in some nice little lingerie would work just fine."

You huff out and roll those pretty little eyes, scoffing, "John! I need to get him an *actual* gift."

"Take pictures--wallet sized, yeah? He'd like that."

You scoff again and shake you head, before John adds, "I'd like tha' as well, yeah?"

He laughs and smirks and you can practically hear that smirk through the phone, "Goodbye, John."

"Oh- come on, lovie! Don't even act like tha's not true," He tries to respond, "I love you?"

You chuckle, getting up to pace, "Love you too, John. You and Simon should come to my dorm, we'll cuddle until Simon's asleep and you and I can talk Christmas some more."

He huffs out a laugh, "Cuddle," he says like it's impossible. You hang up the phone and sigh, sitting down on your bed.

What *could* you get Simon? I mean, he's so... avoidant of gifts. Maybe a good coat? Maybe an inside joke?

You rack your brain so hard it could explode as you wait for Simon and John to come back to your quarters for your nightly cuddle before it dawns on you.

*A kiss the cook apron.*

He loves those, always making jokes and no matter if you are or are not all deployed, John doesn't cook because Simon won't let you or him *anywhere* near the kitchen. He'd *love* it.

Cut to the exchange day, and everyone is laughing and excited. Why wouldn't they be?

You present to Simon is wrapped nicely in one of those shirt boxes they sell, it has a pretty bow and a nicely written name tag.

Your gift was from Johnny and was a new mug so you "stop stealing his," which made you laugh.

Kyle got from John a proper coat, because everyone knows that that man does NOT take care of himself.

Kyle got Johnny a pair of thick gloves for work so his hands don't get worse.

Then Simon opens his gift, while you're curled up on John's lap. You're biting you lip, looking nervous.

Then he sees the apron, unfolding it and letting out a laugh. He never laughs, so everyone looked *incredibly* surprised, but he showed it off.

And of course he knew it was you, so he tossed John his gift and opened his arms for you.

He got John an eye mask, so he'd stop complaining about how dark it is, and hopefully stop snoring as much.

You end up snuggled up to Simon's side, everyone chatting about. You steal a sip from John's got cocoa, and he comes over and wraps his arms around both of you in a bear hug.

Simon leans down and whispers into your ear, "I promise 'll use your gift, dovie."

You lean up with a grin, kissing his cheek, "Thanks, Si."

[st4rfckerz]

October 25th - Asphyxia

His Prize (bluecollar!anakin)

word count: 0.7k

warnings: unprotected sex, choking, arm kink

a/n: abrupt ending because i didn’t know how to end it 😛 also pretend this was already posted on the 25th because i forgot to post

You find yourself in your and Anakin's shared room, on all fours, with Anakin behind you, pounding away. His long, hard day at the factory has left him pent up, and he's taking out his frustration on your willing body. Anakin tangles his hand in your hair, pulling your head back harshly. The sudden movement makes you gasp, your back arching as he yanks you closer.

As soon as Anakin came home for the day, he was feeling frustrated and pent up. He couldn't concentrate on anything else, his mind filled with thoughts of his favorite girl. When entering the house he practically threw his keys onto the nearby table while gunning it to the bedroom.

“Takin’ me so well aren’t you?” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, causing you to cry out in ecstasy. “Always right where I need you.”

Your brain has turned to mush, and all you can focus on is the feeling of Anakin's thick cock stretching you open. “So full, Ani,” you moan, your words slurring slightly. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but clench around him, desperate for more.

Anakin growls, his hand tightening in your hair. He drives into you harder, his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust. His hand comes down hard on your ass, the stinging sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight baby.” He continues to thrust inside you, his pace relentless. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and cries of ecstasy.

Anakin unexpectedly pulls you up with his bicep around your neck, putting you in a full nelson as he jackhammers into you. Your body trembles with each powerful thrust, and you can't help but clench around him more tightly. He notices, a low growl escaping his lips.

“Oh f-fuck!” Your moans grow louder and more insistent as Anakin continues to pound into you. The wetness between your legs increases, your body responding to his abrupt actions.

“That's it, baby, let me hear you,” Anakin encourages, his voice low and gravelly. He slows down his movements, his cock still buried deep inside you, teasing you with the promise of cumming.

You whimper a string of pathetic little ‘no’s’, your fingernails digging into Anakin's arm as he slows down his thrusts. The feeling of his thick arm around your throat is so intense, and you're on the verge of losing control. Your body shakes with need, and you can't help but plead with him to continue. Anakin's grip on your neck tightens, and he leans in close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Beg for it,” he demands. “I wanna hear you tell me how bad you need it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out are incoherent moans and whimpers. Your mind is consumed by the all-encompassing arousal, making it impossible to form a proper sentence. You can only cling to him, your nails bite deeper into his arm, and you can feel the pressure building inside you, threatening to explode at any moment.

“Poor baby,” Anakin chuckles darkly, amused by your inability to speak. “Too drunk on my cock to speak hm?” He picks up his pace again, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigor. The sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room, mingling with your desperate moans. Your body arches into his, your muscles tensing as you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“I'm cumming!” you cry out, your voice strained with the effort of holding back. Anakin's body tenses, and with a powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you. His cum spills into you, filling you up as your own orgasm washes over you. The sensation of his release triggers your own, and you come undone, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax.

Anakin gently lays you down on the bed, your legs still trembling from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. He opens your legs, revealing the mess you both made, his cum dripping out of you. “Look at that,” he says, his voice filled with satisfaction. “We really know how to make a mess don’t we?” Anakin's cocky grin and the way he's admiring his handiwork make you feel like a prize, a trophy for him to show off.

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART THREE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 6.4k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, suicidal themes, grief/death, weapons, violence, blood, maladaptive daydreaming, implied masturbation, drugging, kidnapping, unhealthy & unrealistic religious themes.

carlos oliveira's yandere traits are . . .

worshiper, delusional, & nurturing

──── Carlos Oliveira hates the scent of ink. Yet still, his hands are covered in the excess of the relentless use of such.

It stains everything. His ragged clothes, his fingers, the top secret documents he couldn't be bothered to care after. Despite his loathing of the material, it somehow seems to follow him with every step he walks. It doesn't take away the sheer relief he feels when he uses the same ink to jot down everything in his journal. While Carlos is far from home and occupied with his position as a Corporal, he fills pages upon pages of entries assigned to you. From how he swore he heard your laughter at lunch that day to obsessive hours spent writing your name over and over again, he finds it soothing, in an odd sense. Everything the ink touches revolves around you in some shape or form.

Y/N L/N. The name he will never forget.

Carlos remembers your aromatic sweat, your intoxicating breath, your perfumed skin; he will never forget how you ended his life in Raccoon City. It was persephonic, the last day of his life. Through the maze of chaos and gore, he found you, his little taste of heaven before he would face his demise. However, he is still shamefully alive. And selfishly, Carlos wishes that he had died that night. He should be grateful, as insinuated by the thousands of innocent lives lost and his family thanking the universe for sparing their boy. But, he just isn't. He can't, as much as he tries.

Even though his heart still beats, something within him has been dead for these past five years. He tries to heal his soul which decomposes with every day that goes by, but his efforts are brought to no avail. As much as he attempts to write out the fairytale he desperately wishes would materialize into reality, the truth sits and rots beneath a canopy of pretty lies.

You are dead and there is nothing he can do about it.

If Carlos thinks too much about it, he'll be brought to tears. And he can't afford another days-long meltdown filled with unruly sobbing and staggering guilt. He just can't. Instead, he defiles his brain with dreams of you that he deludes himself into believing are real. Writing his sweet spouse letters while he is away from home, buying you trinkets and clothes from foreign places, and leaving behind warm plates of food for you to enjoy. The truth of your well-being dances in the back of his head like a ghost in an attic. However, fully acknowledging you are gone would just about kill him. Carlos will prolong it as long as it can, no matter how fast the inevitable truth gains on him.

"My honey, My sweet, My lover. I will be home soon. Please wait for me, my bumblebee." Ink stains Carlos' fingers as he jots down yet another letter to you. He wonders if you also hate the way ink stains your fingers when you finally write back to him. His heart swells when he imagines you receiving his letter all safe and cozy in the home you share together. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you. The ghost of the truth lurks in the mind, but he turns his back to it. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you.

Five years without you and all that sunshine and wit he used to possess has depleted. Now, it's impossible to know when the ticking time bomb that is Carlos Oliveira may explode.

Unbeknownst to his peers, every emotion expressed is a manifestation of you, whether good or bad. After working the day away, Carlos becomes agitated after such treacherous hours without being able to bathe his mind in the light of you. The anger suffocates whatever room he walks into, causing the people within to recoil from the energy alone. No one has forgotten the time when a few colleagues had poked the bear after a single day Carlos spent unable to return to the thought of you. This inevitably caused an hour-long outburst of broken bones, furniture thrown about, and an eruption of unconsolable tears and horrifying threats. The memory still sends goosebumps across the skin of witnesses and no one has dared to cross the man ever since.

All Carlos needs is to venture back to the lustrous haven within his head. Just you and him, together in extraterrestrial bliss. It's all he needs, please let him have it.

All he needs is indulge in the heavenly sights of you at this moment. Instead of the blood-stained reality that is his life, let him spend his days out in the wild with you. Breezy Summer days where the sun beats down and soaks you in its golden, empyrean hues. Carlos sits with his back against the trunk of a willow tree and you lay on a blanket with your head resting in his lap. The enchanting, peaceful state he has found himself in is almost enough to lull him into a slumber. But, how could he dare shut his eyes when the astonishing sight of you sits right before him? Carlos traces his fingers among the tracings of sunlight that peek through the branches and rest upon your face. Beautiful. How irrevocably, indubitably, catastrophically beautiful you are.

A picnic out in an empty field where the day would be spent letting the world fall away as he looks down on the love of his life. Your lips, ever-so appetizing, are dusted with sugar from the numerous treats Carlos made for this exact date. His hand cups your cheek and he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb, your smile growing in response. And the way it tugs on his heartstrings is almost as if your mere happiness was playing him like a string instrument. He gazes at you with so much wonder, it's practically baffling how in love a man could be. You offer him a bite of the pastry in your hand, but he declines. The heat of the season's temperatures and the burning love within Carlos is more than enough to keep him satiated.

Safe, content, and alive with love. There couldn't be a more perfect way to describe this precious moment with you. Safe, content, and alive with love.

A hand waving in his face brings him back to his unforgiving reality. No more sunshine, no more birdsong, no more you. The dread that permeates his entire being could rival the pain of being stabbed in the heart. Carlos jumps in surprise and casts his eyes upward to find Tyrell, whose worried eyes peer at him through the glasses perched on his nose. His body is tense, terrified of treading over a boundary and causing another outburst. Only this time, he fears the several guards with syringes that were able to make him comply before would fail this time. And Tyrell wouldn't be able to escape Carlos' wrath with his life.

However, in the head of Carlos, he can't fathom why his colleague was suddenly so afraid of him. Maybe it was the way his expression was entirely unconscious. Maybe it was the way his eyes were wide and distant, in a completely different world. Maybe it was the way his lips would twitch into a smile that would be deemed creepy or maybe it was how he whispered unintelligible sentences under his breath. All of this remains unknown to Carlos, as he was far too busy in la-la-land to pay attention to his surroundings. Tyrell then motions to the ground, where Carlos finds how his pen had managed to roll across the floor and how his journal was now sitting face-down against the concrete. When did he drop those?

"Are you okay, man?" The question echoes as if he was standing miles away from him. Is he? Is he ok? These days, it never really feels like it. Only when he can escape to his paradise does he truly feel okay.

"You kept saying something. Over and over again." Carlos can barely render the words spoken by his friend.

"Y/N. Who is that-?"

Something snaps within Carlos. The fireworks you have ignited inside him have been snuffed out like a cigarette; the skipping of his heart trips over itself like a child sprinting down a jagged sidewalk. Your name alone sitting on someone else's tongue is more than enough to send him spiraling into an envious frenzy. You've never even met this poor man, but Carlos' brain infests his thoughts with visions of you and Tyrell together. This parasite paints images of you in the same field, in each other's arms, hopelessly devoted to one another. Happy with one another. And the stifling jealousy practically makes Carlos maniacal. It should be him, it should be him. He doesn't deserve it, but it should be him with you. Not Tyrell, never him, please not him please choose me please just choose me I will do anything baby please-

Carlos doesn't even think before he's swinging his right arm back and surging it forward to Tyrell's face. He can't win, he can't win, he can't. Permeating pain flashes like a flickering light and it courses through his entire arm. This sudden flare of weakness grants Tyrell the opportunity to block the attack before it lands. He now just stares at his friend in complete horror. Carlos falls to the floor of the infirmary and inspects the source of pain, finding that his right bicep has been covered in thick gauze. What was once white and clean is now tattered with blood-red stains. The memories hit him like a train. How could he have forgotten? Was he so caught up in his fantasies that he failed to recall what happened mere hours ago?

One of the most prominent and more so realistic fantasies (in his opinion) Carlos has is of you in heaven, watching over him like his own personal guardian angel. To finally accept your death would shatter him entirely, but to think of how your soul has lived on and is now living in promised eternal bliss calms his stuttering heart. His relentless acknowledgment of this fantasy has caused disastrous side effects, however. Behind the scenes, he has caught himself on many occasions contemplating death. To indulge in his demise and to see you on the other side, Carlos knows it shouldn't make him this exhilarated. Still, he continues to wallow in the celestial phenomenon of joining you in the clouds.

He refuses to fulfill these suicidal tendencies for the sole reason of how you'd perceive him afterward. You had ever so bravely lost your life to the wreckage of Raccoon City; you died a fucking warrior. Whom would Carlos be if he simply ended the torment by slitting his wrists? The echo of your voice barking of how much of a coward he'd be for killing himself over such dramatic, puny reasons makes Carlos recoil in shame. This obsession of his has accelerated to a degree where he'll purposely slack off during missions, hoping that he'll be fatally caught in the crossfire. A bullet through the brain and he'd wake up beside you, where you'll praise him for his bravery and how he died a hero.

To reunite with you — that is the only thing Carlos could ever want.

Today was no different. Yet, while his comrades shout for him to take cover and question why he is being such an idiot, it finally happened. Barrelling through the air is a bullet, which buries itself into the flesh of his right arm. The force sends Carlos to the ground. When others try to take hold of him and drag him to safety, he swats them off like they're nothing but pesky mosquitoes on a humid July afternoon. And he laughs so loudly and so manically, it could almost convince the enemy that the Corporal is secretly the Joker.

It all makes sense now. You had broken your right arm five years ago and now, Carlos has been shot in the exact same arm. This must be you! This must be your way of lending your hand through the sky, guiding him to join you in heaven! You are here with him and Carlos can't restrict the genuine smile and streaming tears from forming on his face. Now, however, the wounds your tender heart left have now been cared for. These doctors have defiled your mark on him; they have sullied the gift you have so kindly given him. And the fury that bubbles inside of Carlos in response is nothing short of harrowing.

Through the heaving breaths of the man he once considered to be his friend, Tyrell finally speaks up with a waver in his voice. "You-You need help, Carlos. I don't know who Y/N is, but-"

"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Carlos' outburst explodes and the ringing of it settles like a blast wave. It bounces off the walls and reverberates through the ears of both men.

The anger is practically palpable. What Tyrell failed to notice through that rageful veneer was the pieces of Carlos' broken heart that lies beneath. With every passing second, this phantom within him reminds him of the state of your well-being. You're dead, you're gone, I won't see you ever again. With naivety Carlos excuses as the truth, he continues to ignore this voice. He has been stuck in a five-year-long chase with his logic and will continue running for five more if he needs to. And slowly but surely, this endless race is tearing him apart.

Tyrell leaves without so much as another breath. One question stays heavy on his mind, though. Whoever you are, Y/N, what the fuck have you done to him?

The patient must be given PTO to avoid another breakdown that could potentially accelerate into lethal violence — that was the "excuse" the doctors gave to the Sergeant regarding Carlos' wellbeing. This leaves him here. Alone and driving back to his estate. Meanwhile, his brain is blooming with iridescent fantasies he claims to be memories. Driving home to you after a long day of work and bringing you all the money and love you could ever ask for. He wonders, would you wait for him to come home? Would he find you asleep on the sofa, succumbing to your drowsiness before he'd be able to open the door? Or would you be in the bedroom? The soft glow of the lamp light framing your face as you peel back the covers, welcoming him into your idyllic embrace?

The tires of his car begin to skid off the road. Carlos is brought out of his imagination, where he then jerks the vehicle back into its proper position in the lane. You may just be the death of him, he muses. And when he finally arrives home, he tries to ignore the love letters he sent to you piling in the mailbox, the trinkets and clothes he bought you collecting dust, and the dinner he left for you that is now putrid and overwhelmed with mold. He tries to avoid how much it actually kills him. But still, this aching sense of dread rots in the pit of his stomach. It isn't until he glances at the calendar pinned on the wall does the devastation finally settle like fresh snow.

The date today was September 28th, 2004.

Six years.

It's been six years since he survived Raccoon City; it's been six years since he met you and lost you on the same night. This isn't the first revelation that comes to mind, though. Instead, he feels absolutely mortified by his own negligence. It's your sixth-year anniversary, how could he have forgotten? What kind of person, boyfriend, husband is he to forget this day? He should have brought home chocolate, flowers, shit, maybe even taken you on a month-long vacation to a resort across the world. God, how could he be so fucking stupid? You two could have been at each other's side during the most important day of the year (besides your birthday, of course). But no, he just had to get so caught up in his head that he forgot the anniversary of the day that made him the man he is today.

Another epiphany, one of the much more luminescent standards, hits Carlos once again. This must be why you had never written back to him. You aren't dead, you're simply upset with him! All the letters, all the gifts, all the plates of food, everything you have neglected — it was just your way of expressing your anger. Ha, take that, brain! And despite the circumstances, Carlos imagines the scowl on your face and is absolutely giddy from the vision alone. You're upset with him, yes, but you're alive. His sweet lover is here with a beating heart and an angry head. And God, does it make Carlos practically shiver with glee.

He then storms through his house, looking into every nook and cranny in search of you. "Y/N? Honey? Honey, it's me! Look, I know you're upset, but I promise I will do everything I can to make it up to you!"

"Where would you like to go? Hawaii? Paris? Shit, Italy? Wherever you'd like, Y/N!" With each room left devoid of you, that wrenching misery returns piece by piece and yanks on what is left of his heart. His voice begins to crack as he continues to shout for you. "Y/N, please! Please come out, honey! I'll do anything, Y/N... Please..."

Carlos then collapses to the hardwood floor, his body crushed with the sobs now protruding from his chest. Tears pour down his cheeks with uncontrollable force before landing on the ground beneath. And he cries so violently that he fears his ribcage may shatter from the force of it alone. He can't accept it, he can't, he can't, he can't. Even if this is what the rest of his life looks like, just veiling the truth with delusional fantasies, Carlos will never face the honest conclusion. He just can't.

"Please, bumblebee... I need you..." It's a final, desperate prayer. For your presence or for mercy, Carlos isn't exactly sure which.

He then digs beneath the collar of his shirt and fishes out the necklace he has worn for six years now. Swung upon a rusted chain is the charm of a bumblebee, the yellow and black shades now decayed with age. Carlos (as forgetful as he now realized he is today) will never forget when he first received the necklace. It was right before you had boarded the subway train that would eventually lead to your departure from life. How you enveloped him in your sugar-sweet hug and the way your natural musk sat on your skin still drives him nuts after all these years. The memory brings him great comfort on restless nights spent tossing and turning in bed.

At that moment, however, he never realized how constricting his hold was on you until he hears something snap. Opening his eyes and awakening from the stupor of his cartoon-esque infatuation, he finds how he had underestimated his strength and crushed the clasp of your necklace. The state of your beloved jewelry piece is left oblivious to you. Carlos wasn't given a second to process what had happened before you're peeling your arms off of him and boarding the train. In his hands are the remnants of the necklace you left behind.

The insect symbolizes perseverance, which he finds is a perfect way to describe his life today. Persevering through every day until he can finally let his body rest six feet under; persevering through every day until he can join his honey, his bumblebee through the gates of heaven. Carlos presses another kiss of millions to the pendant as he sits in his lonely house, pretending it is your skin beneath his lips instead of the rusted metal. His heart is shattered, his body is weak, and his brain is infested with every kind of mayhem he has ever known, but he will push through it. He will push through any and all kind of chaos knowing you are at the end of the finish line. Waiting for him.

The quick tune of an email alert brings Carlos out of his lovesick, grief-burdened daze. Suddenly being torn away from the thought of you makes rage flood through his veins. He stomps over to shut his computer off, maybe even throw the monitor against the wall in the process. When he catches a glimpse of what is on his computer, he hesitates. A loud gasp then escapes from him.

On his computer is an email from an old friend.

Carlos is able to fly into the country in less than twenty-four hours. He has to take several deep breaths in order to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision as he races to Jill's apartment. Seeing her face and the present relief in her expression, the all-too-overwhelming revelation settles. Carlos is surprised he hadn't blacked out right there on her doorstep in response. It's time to finally get you back.

And just like Jill and Carlos had orchestrated after two weeks of planning how they'd release you from Umbrella's clutches, one sip of the cup of tea in your hands and you were out like a light. Your collapse was harsh, evident in the loud thud that permeated when you landed. Fortunately, you had your blanket-cape there to cushion your fall. It doesn't stop the two from bursting the bathroom door open and rushing to your aid, however.

Without your knowledge, Jill and Carlos then proceed to take you far, far away from the place you had once called home.

"What the fuck?"

Despite knowing you were sleeping soundly just several rooms over, your sudden presence still manages to have their breath locked in their throat. The way you look at one another contradicts each other in such discrete ways, it's almost comical. You're hyperventilating, staring at the scene in front of you with eyes blown in crazed shock. Six years of grieving through the most traumatic night of your life, why is it now you find out they have been alive this whole time? These two, however, stare into your soul with so much wonder, you're almost convinced they thought they were looking at some sort of mythological creature. It's almost as if they're hypnotized. No movement, no response — just pure amazement at the sight of you alive and looking at them with eyes full of life.

It isn't until you take a cautious step back does it trigger them to escape their state of captivation. You venturing further away from them, even just a pace — they can't let it happen. Never again. While Jill resorts to calmly approaching you as if you were a stray cat, Carlos makes an abrupt dash for you. You take several more steps backward before the man you presumed to be dead became inescapable. With another onslaught of tears brimming in his eyes and a whimper fleeing from his throat, Carlos practically tackles you into a tenacious embrace.

The hold he has on you is ridden with disbelief and desperation. He's shaking against your body like an Autumn leaf drifting through the wind. Burying his nose further into your neck, he inhales the musk that sits on your skin as if he had been trapped underwater and you were a pocket of air. God, Carlos wasn't even able to look at you for more than one second before he started blubbering like a baby. The man is so absorbed in the moment of finally reuniting with you, he almost misses it when Jill smacks him on his arm and growls through clenched teeth for him to "get his fucking shit together." But, Carlos refuses to budge. He is ready to beg Jill to let him stay here, to please let him revel in the fact that this isn't another fantasy someone will wake him out of.

He somehow nestles his face further into the crook of your neck and brings your body closer to his, almost as if he was trying to mold you together as one. And at this moment, Carlos has yet another revelation. Years upon years of imagining what heaven looks like, he was entirely incorrect. There are no clouds, no birdsong, no vibrant gardens. This. Right here in this moment, this is what heaven is. To have you, the partner of his dreams, so close to him is nothing short of heavenly. For six years, he has dreamed of this moment. And if he were to die at this moment, Carlos would be elated to know he died the happiest he has ever been in his whole life.

Meanwhile, you're thrashing in the tight hold of his constricted strength. It's almost hard for you to breathe with how hard he’s squeezing you. The woman you see over his shoulder is collected, but only a fool would miss the way her shoulders tense and nostrils flare with rage (and a sliver of possessiveness, too). She receives your silent plea and grabs a fistful of his mop-head of hair, using all the might in her arm to pull him away from his own bear hug. Carlos reluctantly loosens his grasp on your form. However, he then resorts to checking you for any and all signs of life.

The past six years have been spent dodging the logical answer to your disappearance. Now, however, the sight of you alive is just too good to be true. He begins thoroughly checking your body for a pulse, listening intently to any irregularities in your heartbeat. Anything to assure him you are actually alive and breathing. When every sign and question points to 'yes' over if you are here, Carlos can hardly contain it. Finally seeing you walking, looking, talking, alive — it's like the crescendo of a beautiful song.

Jill, as collected as she is, does not differ from Carlos' state of emotion very much. She has thought of this moment at least a million times, rehearsing every syllable and breath to make the moment all the more perfect. Now, however, every perceivable thought in her head was robbed the second you entered the room. How desperately she wishes to reassure your safety, inform you of the lies you were told, and vow to never let another soul lay a single hand on you ever again. But, with her racing heart and this grizzly bear of a man latched to you like a leech, her idea of the perfect reunion has been spoiled. Still, for six years she has longed for this. Whether it's a steamy kiss beneath the moonlight or caught in Carlos' mess of tears, she couldn't be more elated to finally have you again.

Much to your dismay, your empty stomach then grumbles its frustrations into the silent air. In response, your face grows warm in embarrassment. You had been so occupied with the current events and battling your shock, the dinner you had missed out on the night before had gone overlooked. The two, however, react much differently to your perceptible hunger than you. Without a mere second to waste, they're fawning over you as if you were some powerful deity and they were your humble, loyal servants. Their infantilizing treatment of you makes your skin burn with even more heaps of humiliation.

"Oh? Are you hungry? I've almost finished breakfast!" Carlos breaks physical contact to return to the stove and you have to restrain yourself from expressing your perceptible relief.

"I... I didn't have dinner last night." With an exhale of dry laughter, your attempt to lighten the mood only does the opposite. How could they have let you go hungry? They brought you here to care for you the way they deserve and they have already failed!

A gentle hand on your lower back causes you to jump in startlement. You find Jill beside you, who helps guide your trembling legs to the kitchen table. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice the way her hand lingers. Finally free of any unsolicited touch, you sit down at the end of the table. The only way you can bring yourself to any state of ease is to ignore the relentless cooing of the woman beside you and the furious scraping of a spatula against a pan. Almost as if Carlos was speeding through the process of cooking in order to get back to you sooner. Jill then sits beside you, taking your hands into hers. Being free of physical contact was good while it lasted, you joke to yourself.

"You're real... You're real, my butterfly, you're real." Jill indulges in the reality of your genuine touch, before shaking her head as if to wobble her rationality back in place.

A plate is soon served before you. And it is easily the most delectable dish you had ever seen; it looked like something straight out of a magazine, despite the frivolous efforts made by the chef. A gourmet omelet sits in front of you, steam pervading the air in invading your nostrils with its mouth-watering aroma. Adorned with spinach, tomato, and feta cheese, you could have easily downed the delicious serving in one gulp. Nausea swaying in your stomach like a boat on sea prevents you from doing such. You thank Carlos through stuttering breaths and almost miss the way his body softens from receiving your gratitude.

Always so possessive, Jill reverts your attention back to her. "There is so much you are unaware of, Y/N. But, we're here to help. You don't have to be afraid a second longer." Her reassurance does little to calm your nerves. "Right, Carlos?" He only nods weakly, completely dazed as he stares at you in adoration. Had he even heard what she said?

"We will not let anything happen to you." The gravity of her statement practically touches your bones with its weight. It scares you, the severity of the declaration.

Terrified of angering them (even though there is not a single thing you could do that would ever irritate them), you grasp the fork laid out for you on the pristine table. Your efforts are halted by Carlos, who sits down beside you, opposite of Jill. To satiate his gnawing need for you to be close, he pushes his chair to touch yours until you are both shoulder-to-shoulder. After all, you must be so terrified upon being kidnapped by such an evil corporation. It is his touch and comfort you need to lull you back into a place of tranquility, he's sure of it.

Carlos then takes the fork from your hands, nearly passing out when your thumb grazes his hand. To your horror, he plucks some food onto the utensil and holds it up to your lips, ushering you to let him feed you. Almost as if this was some romantic anniversary or something. Reluctantly, you open your mouth and let him place the bite of food on your tongue. And you would be a liar if you said this wasn't the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. Your tastebuds adorned in succulent food and flavorful seasoning, you joke that this dish is compensation for all the turmoil this morning has brought.

Slowly, as Carlos was painfully milking the moment for as long as he could, your hunger is satiated. The joy he garners from merely feeding you radiates off of him like a campfire against the dark night brume. Once the plate is wiped clean of even the smallest crumb (despite your assurances to him that you were full), Jill then wipes the corner of your mouth with her thumb. Your holy attention is reverted back to Carlos when he pokes your lips with a straw, once again, ushering you to let him nourish your stomach. "To wash it down" he excuses, with far too much exhilaration hanging heavy in his tone.

Indulging in the cold, fresh water as it cascades down your throat, you miss how Jill brings her thumb, now adorned with bits of food and your saliva, into her mouth. And she just relishes in the absolute taste of you. Her vision goes hazy and her eyelids droop from the ecstasy. She would have let herself completely fall into the arms of enrapturing oblivion if it weren't for the fact you were right beside her. Carlos takes notice, however, and a sneer forms on his lips as he looks at her in disgust. Jill bites her tongue, holding herself back from pointing out how he is no different. So easily, she could inform you of how after your intimate bath together, she found him inhaling your sweater with his eyes rolled back into his skull and his hand stuffed into his pants. If she were to voice this, however, the man would easily throw himself over the table and attack her like a feral animal. She can handle him, but you don't need even more stress.

Upon being thrust into the middle of this mess, the only thing you can do is watch as the obsession of Jill and Carlos play out before your very eyes. And the physical manifestation of your return has caused disastrous consequences. Six years and you're ashamed to say you have forgotten what their facial features looked like. The memory remains as a blurred, distorted mess of blood and grime. An expression of all the trauma you all have endured. Now, however, you'd be damned if those were two expressions you could ever forget.

Carlos and his dark goo-goo eyes, adorned in overwhelming heaps of drowning devotion that could swallow you whole with one glance. They're affixed with teardrops, adding onto everything cherubic, holy about the way he looks at you. Despite the sheer display of sadness leaking from his eyes, his lips exhibit the biggest, most genuine smile you have ever seen in your life. The way he looks at you, it's almost as if God himself had descended from the heavens and graced Carlos with his presence. All from just the mere act of feeding you. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

His smile vanishes, eyebrows raising as something seems to click in his head. He then takes your right arm gingerly into his grasp, fingers treading amongst the field of goosebumps blossoming on your skin. "Your arm, you poor thing... Are you okay, honey?" The worry in his voice makes you shiver with convulsion. It takes you several seconds to compute that he was referring to the injury you endured six whole years ago.

Jill and her cheeks that are blazon in hues reminiscent of two ripe cherries, appending a sort of childish innocence to her always-stoic expression. The way her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed displayed a sense of fury — presumably toward the man clinging onto you like a lifeline. When she looks at you, however, her features perceptibly soften as if beams of sunlight had enveloped her after years of being in the depths of Winter. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

"You... You kidnapped me..." Even through all the violence and torment these two have endured, nothing had cut deep than those three words. The waver in your voice, the emotions brimming in your eyes, the trembling frown plastered on your lips. God, it killed them right then and there.

They begin to ramble and deny your accusation. All as if it wasn't a lie coming out of their mouths. And in their heads, it was anything but a lie. They truly believed that they saved you as if it was a genuine fact. Somehow, they manage to inch closer to you. The empty air around you becomes suffused with their waving hands and panicked explanations. All to convince you that they would never hurt you. Never.

"You're upset, Y/N, we understand. But you have to know that this was for your own good!" Jill remains the voice of reason, if that's what you would name it. Meanwhile, Carlos throws shambles of assurances such as, "It's not true!" and "I need you!" your way, hoping that something, anything will mend your fears.

And poor you. So confused, so terrified, so bewildered. All you could want at this moment is to go back twelve hours ago. To leave with your friend the second they entered the room, to scrutinize what in your home had caused you to black out, to burst down the front door and beg the the surrounding security guards to save you. Even though the truth of your “home” simmers just beneath the surface, itching to claw its way out, you still find yourself aching to go back to the way things were. Even if it is all just a fat lie. Anything is better than this.

Miles upon miles away, the three of you are completely unaware of the fourth presence treading closer to their secret. Suspicions high, Tyrell can't help but use some of his free time to venture into why Jill and Carlos had suddenly vanished. For the umpteenth time, he looks through more footage from the security system Jill was so insistent on receiving. And what he finds is horrifying. The two people he had once considered his friends were seen climbing through a window, to where they escape moments later with an unconscious body.

A flare of guilt spreads through him. Unwillingly, he had actively played a part in this. Whoever you were, he felt inclined to take full responsibility for helping these two take this innocent life away. To be kidnapped, murdered, he doesn't know. What Tyrell does know, however, is that he feels to be partially blamed for this. When he does further research, his heart sinks even deeper into the pit of his stomach. Reports of a missing patient were sent around the establishment. Y/N L/N, a potential runaway was actually the body nestled tight in Carlos' arms. He remembers how he had spoken that name and the reaction it garnered from Carlos; he remembers seeing the name on the door of the room Jill relentlessly paid him to receive footage of.

With that, Tyrell reports the incident. An investigation commences and two major clues are found. A shattered mug that had been filled with sedation-induced tea and specks of blood on the bathroom floor that have been tested positive for matching one of the assailants. Now, a manhunt is in play for Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira.

At his desk that was overwhelmed with littering documents, Tyrell eavesdrops on a conversation between his two colleagues.

"You won't believe who they've gotten to take over Carlos' spot for this mission!"

"Who?"

"Leon Kennedy."

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ WE WERE WILD AND FLUORESCENT

COME HOME TO MY HEART . . . ❞

this is what i imagined the necklace carlos stole borrowed from you to look like. however, you can imagine it as whatever you'd like!

[casdeans-pie]

tagged by @kerryweaverlesbian !! Thanks for the tag! Sorry this took me a million years to reply to!! (see their post here) to.... share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have fewer) and tag ten people !

Also I'm sorry I hope it's okay that I'm gonna copy your formatting, because it's so nice and easy to read <3

Cabin of Feathers // Werebird!Cas , Accidental Mates , Secret Identity Shenanigans , Destiel // 51k (wip)

Dean is distantly aware that staying alone in a cabin in the woods is how a lot of horror movies start, but this place seems too nice for it.

Angelic Steel // MichaelSword!Dean , Soft early Destiel // 700

"Am I even human?" Dean wants to sound angry - he wants to sound furious - but his words come out as broken as he feels inside.

Shine For Me // Castiel's Handprint , Fluff , Destiel // 1k

With the grill on, the timer set, and the smells of cheese, onions, and potato filling the kitchen, Dean feels himself relax a little.

Kiss It Better // Castiel experiencing emotions , Early Destiel // 260

The first time Castiel heard the phrase to 'kiss something better' he thought it sounded like a ridiculous notion.

You're My Happy Place // Valentines Fluff , Castiel can hear longing , Early Destiel // 4k

The prospect of a lonely Valentine’s Day feels unusual.

Falling (In Love) // Castiel's Wings , First kisses in a life or death situation , Destiel // 2k (wip)

In terms of ‘situations where escape seems impossible’ Dean would probably rank this at a solid two.

Flicker, Fizzle, Pop // Castiel explodes lightbulbs when he's flustered , Dean pressing his buttons on purpose , Destiel // 9k

The first time it happened, Cas almost convinced Dean that it hadn’t.

Celestial Hum Of Angelic Contentment (not purring) // Castiel purrs , Fluff , Destiel // 350

Dean's hands stilled from where they had previously been carding through Castiel's soft hair, his fingers resting motionless against his scalp. "Cas... Are you purring?"

Angel Erogenous Zones // Suggestive Themes , Making Out , Destiel // 750

It hadn’t been Dean's intention to be kissing Cas against his bedroom door, but as soon as it had slammed shut behind them that’s where they’d ended up.

I'll Carve My Love Into Your Bones // Rib Carvings , Grace/Soul shenanigans , Early Destiel // 2k

Dean's ribs are aching.

--------

Seeing them all in a row like this is so interesting!! I'm not sure that opening lines are something I'm particularly good at now honestly asdhjhgshfj. Some of them are tinyyyyy. I do like the ones that grab you - and make you want to find out more. A couple of them impressed me!

No pressure tagging....

@encyclopika @amynchan @thepagemistress @wanderingcas @youchangedmedestiel @citrinediamondeyes and any other writing friend who wants to play! (Its late here and my brain is no longer working)

[cod-dump]

Ah yes hello it’s me again with my antics

one day Nikolai is like doing work in his office (I imagine price and him share an office in the house but price isn’t there right now) and Nikolai is just doing some paperwork for his construction and randomly teen!ghost walks in and says “dad, can you help me with my homework?” And Nikolai is just trying not to burst into tears after hearing Simon call him dad then like two hours later Gaz walks in and nik is like “you need something kiddo?” And Kyle is just like “I just want your company pops” then like later price walks into their shared bedroom and just sees nik crying in the corner is he’s like worried and shit price walks up to him like “what happened??” And nik through tear he just says “they’ve started calling me dad!”

-🫠

Undeserving (teen!Ghost au)

some slight angst (also before Roach’s addition)

———

It was sudden when the boys started referring him as ‘dad’ or ‘pops’ or ‘da’. It was so sudden that Nik had been an emotional mess for a few days since it started. Teary eyed, unable to look at them, wallowing — John was honestly worried about him for the first day.

“I’m fine,” Nik had assured him while looking like he was going explode from the unshed tears.

He didn’t feel fine. He felt so many things, all of them suggesting that he wasn’t fine. He was so happy but terrified. Nik never saw this for himself, this happy, domestic life with a family. He came here to repay his debt with Kate and her people, he never planned on anything like this happening.

He was just supposed to shadow a little boy until he was in a safe environment and in good hands. He wasn’t supposed to still be here. But he was, and it felt like the results from him deciding to stay and see how things would turn out for Simon were undeserving.

He didn’t deserve John. He was an amazing, wonderful man. Perfect in Nik’s eyes. His dedication to caring for Simon even though it was different from his usual work — that was strike one. Nik watched him go from caring for Simon as a basic guardian to loving him as his own son.

Strike two was witnessing the man defend his new life. He strayed from the front lines of hidden wars and bloody battles to something domestic, something soft and simple. Something that men like them tended to never get. And when John had it within reach, he took hold of it and refused to let go.

Of course, strike three was infamously John demonstrating his ability to protect his family and his home. He was a hardened soldier, and Nik witnessed his cold efficiency at his calling. Witnessed how familiar a gun was in his hands, how he seemingly detached himself from the reality that came with placing a bullet in another man’s brain.

John had Nik’s full heart, his adoration and dedication. Of course his children had that, too. Simon technically had Nik’s love first, even though the man still had yet to admit that. He had yet to acknowledge he cared about Simon long before he ever met his soon-to-be father and became enamored with him. It was impossible to deny that now when Simon and Kyle calling him ‘dad’ had him in shambles. He certainly felt he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve any of this.

“Nik.”

John’s voice never sounded sweeter than when they laid curled up in bed. Nik tried to not react but John had that special ability to always get a reaction from him. He shook when he felt John hold him from behind. He was so understanding, he didn’t deserve that.

“You know I’ve seen you cry before,” John whispered, still holding him so gently.

Nik let out a sob and John pressed a kiss to his head. He would hold him until he fell asleep. He would wake not feeling as conflicted. And later that morning when the boys greeted him, he couldn’t help but smile.

[anemoiadawn]

< nice pup >

pairing:: ftm!bang chan x ftm!lee felix genre:: pure smut, pwp, hints of fluff word count:: 3.7k summary:: felix uses his voice as a weapon and chan buckles instantly . . . then makes him regret it when they meet in person warnings:: mentions of hrt, strap-ons, dildos, daddy kink, puppy play, rope bondage, blindfolds, barely any editing, pure smut, incredibly self indulgent (this is a gift for my boyfriend), league of legends references notes:: chan is called chris, felix is pre-testosterone and surgeries, chan is at least a year on testosterone, post top surgery "nice pup" - chloe moriondo

“Hi, Chris.”

Chris froze, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. On his screen, Darius ghosted towards him in the river, getting stack after stack on Chris’s Ekko, bleeding him out. Chris didn’t move an inch. He couldn’t breathe. Darius walked away when Ekko was still alive, letting the bleed execute him after a couple seconds. Chris was unfazed.

It took him a full minute to respond. “F– Lix…” He didn’t trust his voice, it cracked every syllable. Ekko respawned and Chris still couldn’t move his hands. “Lixie, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.”

Insane. Crazy. Feral. Deranged. Chris felt like he was going to explode. If he had a dick, he would’ve been rock hard the second he heard the little ‘hi’ in his boyfriend’s sweet, sweet voice. Maybe he was rock hard. His clit was seconds away from falling off.

“We’ve been dating for, what– seven months now?” Felix mused, and Chris could hear the smile in his voice– he felt his throat close up. An AFK warning glared on the screen. He didn’t care. “I wanted you to hear my voice,” Felix admitted, his voice softer.

“But,” Chris stammered, “baby, puppy, Lixie, you–”

“I don’t think I care anymore, Chris.” Felix’s voice was sickeningly sweet. Chris felt his teeth start to rot.

It was true, that Chris had never heard Felix’s voice before. He was never too upset about it, because he knew Felix would speak on call or in a message whenever he was comfortable. But Chris didn’t think it’d be so soon, didn’t think it’d be so out of the blue. He wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t ready to deal with how quickly his brain turned to mush hearing the love of his life for the first time. Angels sang every time Felix opened his mouth, and Chris had never been religious– but he was starting to think maybe there was a god, because Felix couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be human.

“If I wait to let you hear my voice until I start Testosterone,” Felix continued, “you won’t hear me for years.”

“Felix, baby,” Chris took in a deep breath, covering his face with his hands. “I think I’m going to cum untouched.” Felix laughed and Chris felt like he saw heaven. He tasted heaven. He was most definitely hearing heaven.

“You’re not going to cum untouched, hyung,” he giggled. “That’s my thing.”

Chris was going to cry. His screen went black as the game ended– his team unanimously surrendered after the enemy Darius had twenty kills by fifteen minutes.

“Chris? Are you okay?” This tone was new– to Chris at least. Felix sounded like a kicked puppy. Chris’s kicked puppy.

“Felix, I don’t think I–” Chris let his head fall onto his desk, closing his eyes tight like it’d block out Felix’s voice in any way. “I’m actually going to die. You can’t just unmute while I’m streaming my game and expect me to be able to even breathe.”

“I’m sorry, hyungie,” Felix cooed. “I can mute?”

“No!” Chris shot up, grabbing his mic stand to bring it closer. “No. Please don’t ever mute again. Please. I need your voice. Please.”

Felix giggled. Fuck, his giggle. “Okay, daddy.”

Chris’s boxers were instantly drenched and he let out the most pathetic groan. “Felix.” He growled under his breath, head in his hands. “Don’t try me.”

Felix made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan and Chris nearly threw his headset across the room. What the fuck. 

“I’m sorry,” Felix whispered, his voice even softer than before, a near impossible feat. “I thought you’d like it. I don’t mean to misbehave.”

“You could never misbehave.” Chris assured him, his voice back to his usual soft tone. “I know you only mean to be good for me. Just… I heard your voice for the first time five minutes ago. I can’t handle you calling me ‘daddy’ right now.”

Felix sighed. “Wanted to call you it, though…” Chris could hear Felix’s pout and it made his heart melt. “Since you always said you wanted to… y’know…” He cleared his throat. “Wanted to make you feel good on call.”

Chris looked down and was unsurprised to find his grey sweatpants turning black between his legs. He cursed the Testosterone– since the first week, he’d gotten so wet every time he was turned on, that he had to start wearing pads 24/7. He forgot to put one on after his shower before calling Felix, and swore to himself never to make that mistake again.

“Felix, I…” Chris choked out, pulling at his pants and groaning at the dampness on his thighs. “I don’t think I could handle… it.”

Felix hummed, his voice sounding louder– he’d moved closer to his mic. “You can handle it, hyungie. C’mon. Puppy wants it.” Chris whined, biting his lip hard.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Chris whispered, shifting uncomfortably in his expensive gaming chair.

“Please, daddy?”

“Fuck,” Chris pushed his chair back, slipping his hand under his sweatpants. “Okay. Okay, puppy. We’re gonna do this, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, daddy. Please.”

“ You know I'm like a dog / You can tug on my leash and tie me up real tight / You know my mind is foggy / So you can try to teach me how to be a nice pup ”

Chris and Felix had vaguely talked about their future together– moving in together, living together for the rest of their lives, adopting seven dogs. But actually meeting one another in person was something they could never agree on. Chris had more than enough money to come see Felix anytime he wanted to– but Felix wasn’t ready, wasn’t comfortable, wasn’t secure enough to meet Chris in person yet.

That was, until Felix spoke on call. Felix rapidly got more and more comfortable after that night, and by the end of the first week of speaking in calls with Chris, he gave his boyfriend permission to visit.

On the day of their eighth month anniversary, Chris showed up at Felix’s apartment with three suitcases and a bouquet of flowers twice the size of his head. Felix giggled and helped him in, setting the suitcases near the door, and struggled to find a vase big enough to house the flowers. They had to split the bouquet in three portions, and even then, the vases were overflowing. Felix fought back the urge to ask Chris how much it cost– the flowers, the flight, the boarding of so much luggage– but he knew better. He knew not to ask about money when Chris would spend every last penny on him.

It was embarrassingly fast, the speed in which Chris took Felix to bed. They’d gotten off together more times than they’d said ‘I love you,’ which was already an immeasurable amount. The mix of Felix’s hypersexuality and Chris’s high Testosterone dose was lethal– but they loved it.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me that day, puppy?” Chris whispered, nipping at Felix’s neck. Felix whimpered and tugged against the rope binding his wrists to the headboard.

“I– S-Sorry, daddy, I didn’t know,” Felix choked out, his voice cracking and hitching. Chris bit Felix’s neck, hard. Felix cried out and squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears. “Chris–”

“Ah, ah,” Chris tsked, pulling away from Felix’s blossoming skin. “What’s my name, pup?”

Felix held back a sob and let his mouth open wide, whine after whine escaping his lips. “Daddy. ‘M sorry, daddy.” Chris pressed a kiss to Felix’s jaw and trailed a hand from Felix’s shoulders to his chest, squeezing gently.

“So soft, my love,” Chris whispered, pressing chaste kisses down Felix’s neck to his chest, wrapping his lips around a nipple as his fingers fondled the other.

Felix cried, his hips bucking up into nothing. Chris chuckled and lifted his head to look up at Felix– cooing, he trailed his free hand down between Felix’s thighs, cupping the wet heat. “D-Daddy…”

“I’ve got you,” Chris whispered, reattaching his lips to the bud on Felix’s chest, spreading Felix’s folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you? My pretty boy.”

Felix spread his legs wider, letting Chris settle between them. “Ple-Please, daddy, need it, need more,” he whimpered, bucking his hips up. Chris chuckleed and licked a stripe from Felix’s chest down to his belly button, looking up at Felix with a smirk on his face.

“Need what, baby? Use your words for daddy.” Chris rubbed Felix’s clit with his thumb, leaving soft kisses to his stomach.

“Touch me. Please.” Felix whimpered and tugged against his restraints. Chris kissed right above Felix’s clit, his breath ghosting over Felix’s wetness. Felix’s breath hitched as he struggled under Chris’s teasing touches. “Daddyyy, come on,” Felix whined.

“Touch you where, little one?” Chris sucked a mark into Felix’s hip and spread Felix’s legs wide enough to settle between them. “Here?” Chris squeezed Felix’s chest and Felix cried. “Or… Here?” Chris kissed Felix’s stomach. “Or…” Chris trailed off, dragging his tongue down Felix’s body.

When he pressed his lips to Felix’s clit, they both moaned. “Thank you, thank you, daddy, mmh,” Felix babbled, kicking his legs up. Chris lifted up, pressing his hands squarely on Felix’s thick thighs.

“Don’t move,” Chris ordered, his fingers digging into Felix’s legs. “Do you need me to tie up your legs, too?”

Felix whined. “No, daddy,” he cried. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

“I know you will, puppy.”

Chris buried his face between Felix’s legs and went to town. He started by licking and sucking Felix’s cute little clit, drinking in the sweet whines and moans from Felix’s pretty pink lips. He let go of Felix’s thighs, trusting him to keep them still.

“So wet,” Chris whispered into Felix’s cunt, sending waves of pleasure up his body. Felix whimpered, pressing his hips up into Chris’s face. Chris chuckled, pressing him back down into the mattress, licking between Felix’s folds. “All for me, yeah?”

“All for daddy, all for you, only one who can make me this wet,” Felix babbled, riding Chris’s tongue. Chris let him, let Felix use his face. He loved it, loved being used for Felix’s pleasure, loved knowing that he was the only one to make Felix feel this good.

Chris stuck his tongue out and let Felix rut his clit against him, curling the tip of his tongue to just slightly breach Felix’s entrance.

“Daddy, gonna–!”

Chris hummed in response, pressing Felix into the bed, feasting on his boyfriend’s cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart,” Chris whispered, sucking on Felix’s clit. 

Felix came with a sob, his entire body quivering under Chris’s tongue. “Channie, hyungie, fuck–” Chris licked him through his orgasm, lapping up the sweet liquid spilling out of him.

“You did so well, Felix,” Chris praised, pressing a soft kiss to Felix’s folds. Felix whined in response.

“D-Don’t touch me for a bit, too much,” Felix whimpered, pulling Chris up to lay next to him. Chris laid on his back and pulled Felix into his side, lifting Felix’s thigh to rest across Chris’s legs.

“I’ve got you, pretty boy,” Chris whispered into Felix’s hair, pressing soft kisses to his scalp. Felix giggled, resting his head on Chris’s shoulder.

“Thank you, daddy,” Felix kissed Chris’s shoulder. He wrapped his thighs around one of Chris’s legs, pressing his cunt to Chris’s thigh. “Fuck…” Felix cried out, rutting against Chris.

“Needy boy,” Chris whispered, flexing his thigh and pressing up into Felix. Felix buckled and whined, burying his face in Chris’s chest. “Already ready for more?” Chris teased and Felix nodded, panting against Chris’s scars, his damp breath fanning over the raised skin. Chris groaned, running his hand through Felix’s hair. “Good boy. Use my thigh, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, daddy,” Felix kissed into the same spot continuously as he rut his clit against Chris’s leg, panting and struggling to catch his breath against Chris’s skin.

“Making a mess, little one,” Chris chuckled as he secured his hands on Felix’s hips, guiding his movements. “Good boy, just like that,” Chris praised, his thumbs digging into Felix’s skin.

Felix’s breath hitched and his hips faltered against Chris’s leg. “D-Daddy, close, gonna–”

“So soon? Awh,” Chris teased, forcing Felix’s hips to move back and forth, pushing his thigh further up into Felix’s cunt. “Come on, come for me.”

Felix cried out and collapsed on Chris’s chest, trembling as he rode out his orgasm, rutting into his boyfriend’s thigh. “Chris…” Felix hiccuped, burying his face in Chris’s neck. Chris cooed, letting go of Felix’s hips, and rubbed Felix’s back soothingly.

“So good for me, you did so well,” Chris praised and left a soft kiss to Felix’s forehead. Felix sniffed, pressing his lips against Chris’s collarbone.

“Wanna make you feel good, too…” Felix whispered, grimacing as he shifted to pull his cunt away from Chris’s dampened thigh. “Please?”

Chris sighed and turned his head to the side to whisper into Felix’s hair, “Tonight’s all about you, little one.” He pressed his lips to Felix’s scalp and ran his hand down Felix’s back to pull him back in. “Some other time, I’ll let you love on me. But you’ve never been treated like this, so let me show you what you’ve been missing, okay?”

Felix nodded, burying his face deeper into Chris’s neck. “Okay…”

“How many more do you have in you, puppy?”

Felix whined and squeezed his eyes shut. “Dunno. Never gone more than two.”

Chris slowly sat up and guided Felix to lay on his back, his head buried in the soft pillows on Chris’s bed. “Lemme try to get you to three, then,” he whispered as he trails kisses down Felix’s chest– between his soft breasts, leaving longer kisses to each of his moles and freckles, to his belly button, all the way down to where Felix is aching and throbbing.

“Daddy, still sensitive, be gentle,” Felix whimpered and strained against the rope, wanting so badly to reach out. Chris nodded, pressing a soft kiss right above Felix’s clit, then avoided it entirely.

“I’ve got you,” Chris whispered, licking up Felix’s slick and cleaning up between his messy folds. Felix whined for more in a matter of seconds, begging for more, more, more.

“Need it, need you, please, daddy, pl–”

Chris pressed a finger into Felix as he wrapped his lips around Felix’s clit. Felix sobbed, blinking back tears from the stretch.

“Daddy–” Felix hissed.

“Shh, shh,” Chris cooed, kitten licking Felix’s clit as he pushed his finger in deeper. “Just breathe for me, Lixie. You can take it.” Chris kissed his clit to soothe him, to distract him from the burn. Chris’s fingers were slightly longer, slightly thicker– just slightly more than Felix was used to. Chris did everything he could to make the stretch easier to cope with.

“Chris, hurts…” Felix whimpered, tugging against the rope. He cried out as Chan curled his finger up. “Chris!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Chris assured him, kissing up his body to kiss away Felix’s tears. He wasn’t upset about Felix not using the title– he knew Felix couldn’t think straight taking the stretch of his finger. “Color, baby?”

Felix slowly blinked his eyes open and stared up at Chris, sniffing. “I– I don’t know. Green, I think. Just hurts.” Chris hummed, pressing his lips to Felix’s.

“Just focus on my lips, yeah? You can take it, baby boy. I know you can.”

Chris kissed him softly, a distraction, as he pressed in a second finger. He swallowed Felix’s cry, slotting his lips between Felix’s, and slowly inched his two fingers inside.

Felix sobbed against Chris’s lips and babbled as soon as Chris pulled away far enough to let him speak. “M-More, more, daddy.” Chris chuckled and pressed his fingers all the way in, stilling as his hand can’t push in any further, then curled them up slightly.

Felix’s eyes squeezed shut– from pleasure or pain, Chris couldn’t tell. Then Felix let out a long, needy moan and Chris felt warmth flood around his fingers.

He looked down in shock to find white, almost clear liquid seeping out around his fingers. Chris looked up and smiled at Felix’s scarlet red face, curling his fingers up again just to see Felix’s reaction. Felix almost screamed– a tear streaking down his freckled cheek as his chest rose and fell with how quickly he was breathing in and out.

“You’re so fucking evil,” Felix muttered and sniffed, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Chris giggled and pulled out his fingers, licking them clean. Felix watched with blown out eyes, his own lips falling open only slightly.

Chris licked the length of his fingers, then wrapped his mouth around them to clean them more thoroughly. Felix chewed his bottom lip as he watched, pulling against the restraints above his head hard enough to bruise. “Ah, ah,” Chris tsked. “Don’t struggle. You don’t wanna hurt yourself now, do you?”

Felix shook his head instantly, letting his wrists fall slack in the rope. “Sorry, daddy.”

Chris kissed Felix’s tummy and stood up, pinching Felix’s cheek gently as he kneeled down next to the bed, opening the bottom drawer of his nightstand. “Pick a number, one through three.”

Felix groaned from up on the bed. “Can you please let me pick out what dick you’re going to use to take my virginity? Instead of making it random?” Chris laughed.

“I promise you’ll like all of them. I have more, but I promise you’ll be okay with whatever you end up picking randomly.”

“Then… Three. ‘Cuz you’ve made me cum three times so far.”

Chris laughed then hummed appreciatively, standing up to hover above Felix’s face. “Lift your head slightly for me, baby.” Felix’s eyebrows furrowed, but he complied– lifting his head an inch or two.

Chris wrapped a strip of black silk around Felix’s eyes, tying it behind his head. “Daddy, why–”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Chris whispered, kissing Felix’s cheek. Kneeling back down next to the nightstand, he picked up the strap Felix chose– a peach, average sized dildo, just two inches longer than Chris’s own fingers. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, especially with how wet Felix was.

Chris secured the harness around his hips and slipped the dildo into the ring, kneeling between Felix’s legs. “Ready, pup?”

Felix nodded, then remembered he had to speak– “Yes, daddy. ‘M ready.”

Chris dragged the tip of his cock between Felix’s folds, gathering slick around his length. “I’ll check in with the traffic system,” Chris assured, “but you can use the safeword at any time. What’s our safeword, Lix?”

“Peach. It’s peach, daddy.”

“Good boy. Ready?”

“Yes, fuck, please. Stop teasing. You’re killing m–”

Chris pushed in the tip and Felix choked back a scream. Chris stilled, resting his hand on Felix’s hip. “You alright? Color, baby?”

The blindfold around Felix’s eyes darkened with his tears, sticking to his face.. He nodded, his lips trembling. “Green. Neon green. NCT green. Please give me it all.”

Chris chuckled and slowly inched in, bottoming out without any struggle with how slick Felix was. He hovered above Felix, pressing kisses to his neck. “So good, took me all so well, doing so perfectly for me.”

Felix hiccuped, his hands balling up into fists. “Move, please, I’m gonna cum too quick and I won’t even have felt you fuck me.”

Chris slowly started moving his hips, grinding into Felix’s warm cunt. “Bold to assume I’ll stop after just one,” he whispered into Felix’s neck, nipping at the skin.

The base of the dildo brushed against Chris’s clit every time he bottomed out and he fought demons to keep from cumming– he couldn’t, not yet, not when Felix was incoherent under him with his pussy finally full.

Thrusting faster and deeper, Chris bit the juncture of Felix’s neck and shoulder, almost hard enough to break the skin. Felix cried out and met Chris’s thrusts, bucking up into his cock. “Daddy, so close, gonna–”

“I know, baby, let go.”

Chris rocked his hips deep into Felix, pressing in as far as he could. Felix sobbed and bit his bottom lip to hold back the pathetic moan that escaped as he throbbed around Chris’s cock, cumming with a cry. “D-Daddy…”

“Good boy,” Chris whispered, grinding his hips to help Felix work through it. “Can I keep going? Color, puppy?”

Felix hiccuped and sniffed back tears. “Green. Please give me more.” Chris wrapped his hand around Felix’s neck, just resting his fingers there, as he pumped deeper into Felix.

“Doing so well, taking daddy’s cock so perfectly,” Chris praised, rutting his clit against the base of the dildo. “God, fuck, gonna cum.”

“C-Cum, daddy,” Felix begged, his voice small with Chris’s hand around his throat. “Please. Wan’ you to feel good, too.”

Chris hissed and chased his high, squeezing Felix’s throat harder as he trembled through his orgasm. He struggled to lift his head and looked down, fumbling for the button attached to the dildo. He pushed in as deep as possible and pressed it– flooding Felix with warm, sticky liquid. Felix sobbed, inconsolable, as tremors wrecked his body while he came again.

Chris peppered kisses to Felix’s jaw and stroked his hip with his thumb, guiding him through it. “Good boy, what a good puppy, you did so well…”

“W–” Felix hiccuped as Chris untied the blindfold, blinking his eyes open slowly. “What the fuck was that?”

Chris laughed as he pulled out, lifting the button and wire up to let Felix see. “Told you that you’d like whatever you picked.”

Felix groaned and let his head fall back into the pillow, letting out a long sigh. “Yeah. Why am I not surprised?”

Chris set everything aside, untied the rope around the headboard, and cleaned between Felix’s legs with the towel at the foot of the bed. They curled up with each other, Chris’s lips buried in Felix’s hair.

“Good first time, Lixie?” Chris whispered, rubbing soothing patterns into Felix’s back. Felix nodded, lifting his head to peck Chris’s lips in return.

“Best first time,” Felix whispered, resting his head on Chris’s chest. “My favorite boy.” Chris laughed and ruffled Felix’s hair.

“I better be your favorite boy,” Chris pressed a kiss to Felix’s forehead, then nose, then lips. “You’re never allowed to take anyone else’s dick, ‘kay?” Felix giggled and nodded, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Chris’s neck.

“I promise, daddy. I love you.” Chris left a longer to Felix’s lips, cupping Felix’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I love you more, puppy. Happy anniversary.”

“ I'll still curl up at your feet and / Try to give you everything you need and / I'll be a nice pup if that's how you want me ”

[frsmkunt]

 stand behind you on a crowded tube train. I decide you will be my next kidnap and rape victim. I put one hand up your skirt thrusting 2 fingers up your tight pussy, my other hand slides under your top and I grope your tits squeezing and pinching your nipples. Before you can scream I warn you make a sound and I will hurt you. You tremble and whimper quietly. Soon your young tight pussy is soaked and your nipples are hard. I whisper in your ear you are a dirty little fucking whore.  At the next station I force you off the train warning you not to make a sound or you will regret it. You allow me to take you to a black van. I force you into the back and put a odd smelling cloth over your face. You slowly get groggy then pass out. Finally you wake up. You find yourself naked spread eagle on a bed in a basement. You try to scream but you can't because you are gagged. I run my hands all over your body and tell you that you are gagged with your pussy juice soaked panties. I find it hard to think straight someone is talking in the background but you can't make out what they are saying.I  kiss lick and suck your hard nipples. You can't believe it but as pleasure grips as you cum. Your mind is fuzzy and you find it hard to think.what is that voice saying. I put nipple clamps on you and squeeze them hard. try to scream again. I love bite my way down to your pussy and start to finger lick nibble and suck your your clit until your body betrays you as an orgasm sweep your body and you cum hard. You find it almost impossible to think the voice tell calls you are a fuck toy and tells you to serve and obey. To your horror you are trying to say fuck tou serve and obey over and over. I finger you 1 and then 2 3 and 4 fingers shoved in your sodden pussy at the same time my thumb rubs your over stimulated clit the intense pleasure and intense pain and orgasm flows though your young body like a river. Your mind can't take it and breaks I remove the gag. The my voice tells you that you are masters sex slave cum dump. You say yes master I ram my 55 year old cock deep inside your tight pussy I fuck you harder and harder faster and faster deeper and deeper my 10 inch cock rams your cervix. You find yourself about to cum for master again and your pussy walls clench around my rock hard cock causing me to explode inside you, impregnating your young fertile womb. I untie you and you kneel before me. I turn off the brain washing recording and make you clean my cock with your mouth I say I own you body mind heart and soul. This is your new home. You reply yes master. 

Written by Badpervertedbmdaddy 29/05 2024 If feel free to reblog but please don't remove name and date.

Fuck this is straight up torture. These asks are leaving me dripping wet and I can't even touch myself right now. My parents are sleeping literally in the same room as me.

[legend-as-old-as-time]

One of the drafts (written in one go) I mentioned befre, where Turaga Matau is kidnapped. I haven't come around to rewriting the draft, and feel no interest to do so yet. At the same time it keeps haunting my brain.

So, I'll post it. Please enjoy. (Matau certainly doesn't.)

--

The shaking of the lorry had lulled Matau to sleep. Hurt from the fight and weakened by both the loss of his mask and the disruptor, he had given up fighting his exhaustion soon after the cabin started moving. His dreams blurred and shook and twisted with colors – from blue, to red, brown, white, black, and back to green. They danced in a pattern with no reason, but as they drew Matau in, he felt warm and comfortable.

The world around him jerked and he woke up, softly while, strangely, at once completely aware. The metal grate dug uncomfortably into his side, but he kept still in the ropes. Better to have his kidnappers believe he was still unconscious. Aside from avoiding another blow to the head, he might glean some information they would let slip. He couldn’t move much as he was, anyway.

The mercenaries must have slowed down and were travelling a smoother surface now, maybe a road, because the up-and-down-moving had softened. He couldn’t quite place how the vehicle moved, however, which irritated the test driver in him. The place behind his temple was still throbbing, so fewer disturbances were a plus point, at least.

I hope we haven’t traveled far yet. Matau shoved back the dread that rose in the back of his throat, clawing the relief to shreds. He breathed in slowly, holding it for several seconds, before he released it. They will come. My signal exploded over the whole damn valley, and I did a lot of damage. They know it’s urgent and will do everything to come for me.

Carefully, Matau rotated his head; even though the bag around his head blinded him, it also concealed his expressions. Besides, he had other senses that worked just as well or even better. He bit down a hiss as a lance of pain shot through his skull.

Okay, I need to do that a bit slower… My siblings will be so cheery-happy to hear-learn these guys hit my head when I was already down and without my mask. Especially the latter will blow up Vakama’s temper. I wonder if they found my mahiki.

Even slower than before, he lifted his head just by enough that nobody – hopefully – would notice. The mercenaries had probably detached some of their members to keep guard on him. He tried to hear over the lorry’s rattling if somebody was talking. Or even just breathing, so that he knew how many were there. Unfortunately, smoother the lorry rolled, the noise the wheels made rendered it impossible for him to differentiate between then and other sounds that were quieter.

Matau’s neck started aching soon later and he gave it up, for now at least. Returning to the most relaxed position he could manage, he huffed, the cloth repelling some of his breath back to his face. It seemed like he had to wait.

Well, not long, before a loud, bellowing cry came from a place that was definitely outside. It didn’t sound like a voice and was much too loud for glatorian or a skrall, so what was that?

Yes, I remember! They said something about a rider having calmed down some biosaurs… That explains why I haven’t heard an engine, because there’s none. Of course, drawn carriages are much more common and less suspicious than a mechanical construct that is driving.

A sharp thump jolted through the floor’s constant shuddering, right through his armor into his chest. In the air, it made metal rang somewhere to his right. He swallowed the gasp that wanted to jump out. Nervous, he listened closer again. Who was coming?

 “We’re speeding up! Lookout said she saw some figures following us on the cliffs’ edge and that they’re closing onto us.”

That must be them! Well, I hope. Still, he clung to that hope, grinning under the bag so fiercely he felt his whole face move.

“I already wondered what’s up! So, how many? And where did they appear from?”

Matau recognized both of these voices. And just as the one glatorian said, the lorry’s trembles rose in strength. Inertia took hold, pressing him backwards as they accelerated.

“Five, maybe more. They’re using the foliage as cover, so she couldn’t see prop- GAH!”

The lorry lurched and another cry roared. The two mercenaries cursed. Matau he bit down his own yell. He slid backwards by increments, his armor scraping across the grates. It didn’t hurt, but the pressure and sensations were so uncomfortable he groaned through gritted teeth despite his struggles to play unconscious. Just wonderful. He would look like the Karzahni at the end of the day-

Okay, bad comparison. Very bad comparison. No need to let his imagination run that far, thank you very much! His ro were already worried enough.

“What are those stupid beasts doing now?!” A slapped against a bar of the cell.

“Berinos said there must be predators nearby. The biosaurs smell them and get nervous. This is the other reason we speed up, we don’t want some wild rock steeds or worse attacking us.”

“Sure, that is worse than the potential toa hunting us down.”

“The disruptor shuts down their elemental powers in a wider radius than they can attack us from. Most toa are average, not anywhere as dangerous as those Nuva. Who knows, we might get more than one toa today.” The last sentence carried an air of smugness that barbed in Matau’s ears.

“It’d make the boss happy with us, that’s true. I’ve heard that elemental lord wants to study several of these toa, to find out how their powers work.”

Oh no. No. NO.

Chills ran down his spine and he shivered. The danger and level of trouble he had slid into had occurred to him before. He had worked on uncertainty of why or what they kidnapped him, which was nerve-wrecking on its own, but he had been able to ignore these worries because they would get him nowhere. It created a distance between him and the actual situation.

But now, with specific details on the background of his kidnapping, that distance vanished and slammed him right into the place he had been in since they subdued him. It left him breathless.

And they wanted to try to target more than just him. They wanted more toa, and by circumstances, some were following them.

Selfish as it was, it was the idea they would catch his own ro terrified him to his core, squeezing his heart crystal.

 “If it’s those Toa Metru after us, we also have the best hostage to use as leverage against them.”

He couldn’t see, but Matau knew they were looking at him.

As if I’ll make it easy for you. The growl reverberated through his mind.

He kept perfectly still and lax, every emotion and thought turned inwards with the bag obscuring his view to the outside. They worked rapidly, bashing against each other, running in circles. At their center, however, something else rose: razor-sharp and intent, savage and intelligent, possessive and caring, from somewhere deep within.

He glared into the direction of the voices. Anger had sparked heat that churned, turning round and round with the fear, striking against each other in friction, feeding each other with the sparks that flew.

Behind his back, out of their sight, his fingertips dug into his palms. The surface gave; Matau didn’t care.

Metal creaked, joints squeaked, and steps closed on him.

“I’ll keep an eye on him just in case anyway.”

The cabin shocked the same time as the loudest roar yet boomed on the outside. Matau flew to the side like a ragdoll, and the wall split his head open with a pickle as he smacked against it while his back went agonizingly numb. It was little pieces of metal had pierced his brain and were shaking about, scraping and cutting. He panted, and gasped as the cloth covered his mouth.

Chaos reigned – voices jumbled outside in panic, shots rang, the cabin shook like an earthquake had hit the land. Somebody was shouting orders to secure something and escape. The volume and the echo dumped another cascade of metal scrap into Matau’s brain.

“Get up.”

Somebody clutched at his forearm. Forgetting his pretense, he growled with a jerk of his shoulder to get away. The grasp tightened and he was heaved up to his feet. His whole insides turned with the world swaying around him.

It was instinct that directed his body to tense up and keep his balance still, but the mercenary gave him no chance to even try standing on his bound feet. With a forceful tug they pulled him out of the cell. He staggered blindly along, the manacles clicking together; the tumult continued outside. If not for the grip on his arm, he would have fallen, but he felt that hitting his head again would be the better option than following. He was certain that this one wanted to ‘secure’ him.

“Le’ me go.” Matau slurred, weakness still commanding his body. No matter how much he leant back, he held no chance without his mask to stop them.

“I won’t allow our efforts to be in vain. You’ll come with me or regret it.”

Matau really didn’t like the implications of the first sentence.

“I’ll regret coming with you as well.”

A hard yank nearly threw him to the ground. Stunned, he gasped when cold metal pressed against his throat.

“Don’t make me angry. I’ll only need you alive, not unhurt for the journey.” The mercenary had locked an arm around his chest, shoving from behind. He stumbled but they picked him up easily. The threat cut through the haze in Matau’s mind, making his heartlight thud painfully in his chest.

They wanted to escape with him under the chaos of the fight.

Leaning forward as much as he could, he craned his neck down against the blade. He choked when the mercenary pressed tighter, pressing onto his windpipe, but instinct overruled any discomfort.

Now.

The pressure vanished as he let the tension uncoil.

“What are you doing?! Stop struggling or-”

They cried out in shock as Matau smashed the back of his head into their face. He yelled on his own, stars bursting behind his eyes, as another crack opened in his skull. He fell for an eternity in a second, everything swaying and rocking around him. A hard surface struck his knees before he sprawled forward, awkwardly. Behind Matau, the mercenary thudded against the wall under a mutter of imprecations.

“You- you will pay for that!”

Ignoring the throb in his head, he twisted his upper body up while pulling his legs forward. Just a little more, just a little more, just a little more-

He was yanked around his shoulder onto his back. The impact jarred the pieces behind his temples to tumble around. When he twisted around, the mercenary punched him beneath his heart crystal. He jolted upwards with a gasp of all the air he had. They slammed him downwards with a snarl.

“I’ve got enough of your resistance, toa.” He barely could wheeze as they pressed onto his chest, the other hand around his throat, cutting off his breath in. His legs twitched under the knees that dug into his thighs. Tiny intakes rushed into his nose only to be blocked. His lungs screamed, craving air that they had to expel before. The ringing in Matau’s ears became louder with rising panic and a different kind of darkness began blotting out his sight.

Above him, the mercenary froze. Somehow Matau remained aware enough of his surrounding to notice the sudden tension, although the reason for it eluded him. If only he could breathe – his lungs startled rattling and scraping inside his chest.

When the sound of metal groaning violently rose on the edge from the ringing, slowly swallowing it, Matau wondered distantly what else would happen now. His mind lurched when air flowed down his throat into his lungs. Sucking it greedily in, they expanded explosively that his ribs ached. He rolled onto his side, heaving, unable to feel or think from the lightheadedness.

“What the hell is his thing?! Stay away, you beast!”

The cabin shook from the growl that echoed everywhere. Matau’s head arched towards the source. There was the strange urge to turn towards it.

Metal shrieked down the corridor. A stream of air flowed across his torso, followed by the whistle of wind. They swelled until they whipped about him in a glorious mélange of sound, pressure, and smell, chasing away the stale atmosphere. His element surrounded him; even if he was currently unable to command it, the very rush invigorated Matau and his heartlight.

“Another?!”

He winced as something heavy landed next to him, making the floor shake. It snarled, a guttural sound that traveled both air and metal. The first joint in - something deep inside Matau resonated with the sounds.

“It seems I have to take care of a red and a black pest first.” The mercenary barked. The words clicked in Matau’s mind. Red? Black?

Claws clicked. The heat of a body moved over him.

“Is- is that a weapon? Of course some of the Great Beings’ experiments have to attack us!” Swords scraped against each other.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll kill you, then I can finally haul off and deliver the toa to my boss.”

He sensed his protector crouch over him, shielding his body. Not one, not two, but four distinct roars filled the cabin. Hands and feet slapped across the floor from the far end.

“How many are there?! Blue and brown now, too? You’ve got to be kidding-”

Faster and faster, harder and harder. The mercenary screamed when a body rushed passed Matau and jumped. Metal crunched.

For a while he just lay there. Bodies brushed pass him; the floor shook from feet that thundered around; voice and growls and howls reached him as if he was underwater, watching a fight that was above the surface.

-

“Here. This will help you.”

When he saw what Vakama held up with his hands, Matau tilted his head forward.

Gently he pressed the mahiki against Matau’s face. The magnetic locks engaged, pulling the mask into position, and it was like a circuit that had been knocked off closed again.

He breathed in with the flow of energy washing through him. The feeling of sickness faded wave by wave.

[maybe-the-problem]

 I stand behind you on a crowded tube train. I decide you will be my next kidnap and rape victim. I put one hand up your skirt thrusting 2 fingers up your tight pussy, my other hand slides under your top and I grope your tits squeezing and pinching your nipples. Before you can scream I warn you make a sound and I will hurt you. You tremble and whimper quietly. Soon your young tight pussy is soaked and your nipples are hard. I whisper in your ear you are a dirty little fucking whore.  At the next station I force you off the train warning you not to make a sound or you will regret it. You allow me to take you to a black van. I force you into the back and put a odd smelling cloth over your face. You slowly get groggy then pass out. Finally you wake up. You find yourself naked spread eagle on a bed in a basement. You try to scream but you can't because you are gagged. I run my hands all over your body and tell you that you are gagged with your pussy juice soaked panties. I find it hard to think straight someone is talking in the background but you can't make out what they are saying.I  kiss lick and suck your hard nipples. You can't believe it but as pleasure grips as you cum. Your mind is fuzzy and you find it hard to think.what is that voice saying. I put nipple clamps on you and squeeze them hard. try to scream again. I love bite my way down to your pussy and start to finger lick nibble and suck your your clit until your body betrays you as an orgasm sweep your body and you cum hard. You find it almost impossible to think the voice tell calls you are a fuck toy and tells you to serve and obey. To your horror you are trying to say fuck tou serve and obey over and over. I finger you 1 and then 2 3 and 4 fingers shoved in your sodden pussy at the same time my thumb rubs your over stimulated clit the intense pleasure and intense pain and orgasm flows though your young body like a river. Your mind can't take it and breaks I remove the gag. The my voice tells you that you are masters sex slave cum dump. You say yes master I ram my 55 year old cock deep inside your tight pussy I fuck you harder and harder faster and faster deeper and deeper my 10 inch cock rams your cervix. You find yourself about to cum for master again and your pussy walls clench around my rock hard cock causing me to explode inside you, impregnating your young fertile womb. I untie you and you kneel before me. I turn off the brain washing recording and make you clean my cock with your mouth I say I own you body mind heart and soul. This is your new home. You reply yes master. 

Written by Badpervertedbmdaddy 29/05 2024 If feel free to reblog but please don't remove name and date.

Fuck I couldn't stop rubbing to this and came so hard daddy >_<

[gingerale2017]

Toothbrush

Fluff <333 Words: 2k Pairing: Cinder Linh x Kai Fandom: The Lunar Chronicles Setting: Around a couple months Warnings: None that I know of Ao3 Link

Someone could tell Cinder her nerves were all fried and dead and she would believe them. In fact she was surprised they were still functioning because they felt like they were on fire.

She sucked in a breath before she forgot to but it was shaky. She mentally cursed. Considering how close her and Kai’s bodies were, she was certain he heard the wobbly sound.

They decided (meaning Kai dragged a willing Cinder) to dance with each other late in the night in Kai’s room, despite the Peace Ball being three nights ago, an event where she was actually forced to dance. Kai might have said they were dancing tonight but no one could call this dancing. Instead their bodies were so close together that would surely mold together soon as they swayed.

She kept her eyes low and focused on the button on his chest. She felt as if her whole body was in turmoil. Perhaps, if she didn’t look at I’m she won’t screw up. Kai, being so close, could probably feel the erratic speed of her heart and her failed attempts to control her breathing. She was also 95% sure her hand was shaking while he held it. 

Kai, however, seemed perfectly calm, an emotion she envied very deeply in this moment. Perhaps he was lost in thought. Perhaps he was bored. Considering her lack of dancing skills, she reckoned he probably had enough with her.

He sighed suddenly, as if he were reading her thoughts, and the hand on her waist dug deeper into her back. He let go of their interlocked hands and guided hers to his neck. She gulped. He got impossibly closer as their chests met and their legs touched. 

“Cinder, my love, you don’t have to feel so tense,” he murmured, speaking for only the third time this night. They haven’t been very talkative, and for good reason. This proximity messed with her ability to breathe, how could she even dare to speak?

“Tense? I’m relaxed.” She lied.

“Then look at me while we dance. I promise you won’t have to lie when you say that.” 

Oh no. She had to resist his gaze.

Cinder chuckled awkwardly. “You talk as if your eyes are some magical item and can cure any disease whenever someone looks into them.” She said, still refusing to meet his eyes. She feared would melt or at least explode her brain.

Kai sighed again. “Darling.” he murmured, almost like he was chiding her. His hand travelled up her body in parallel to his whispers. She felt sparks from his trail, never pulling away, making her shiver. He reached her chin and tilted it up to his face. Oh no. 

Their eyes finally met and her skin erupted in goosebumps. Kai’s eyes never failed to make her knees weak. A romantic copper that lit up brighter than anything else in is room. What was once the sight she failed to avoid was now the only thing she could look at. She couldn’t look away if she tried.

It was hard to believe Cinder had managed to date the Emperor if the Eastern Commonwealth, but if anyone could, it would be the Queen of Luna.

His fingers on her chin moved to caress her cheek. His touch was definitely one of the best things she experienced with him. Her stomach did repetitive somersaults yet it did not bother her. Instead, it excited her, warming her up in the best ways. He moved his hand back to her waist.

“Shall we start again?” he said, already starting to sway. She nodded.

She felt the grip of his hands on her waist the most. In fact, she was sure he was holding her hips now. He tried guiding her back and forth but she could barely think. His eyes muddled her thoughts. She kept messing up the footwork but he reassured her with a knowing smile.

The room started to get stuffy and hot real fast. Why’d she wear long sleeves anyway? With sweatpants? In this warm climate? 

Back and forth. Side to side. Cinder forced herself to pay attention so she didn’t make a fool out of herself. Her breath came in short breaths that she worked hard conceal. But it was hard to focus when they maintained this kind of eye contact. It was intense and a little frightening, but soon enough Cinder reveled in it. 

The atmosphere shifted so quick that she almost didn’t notice. Like it was almost… natural. Suddenly there was less observing and more doing. He would slowly drag his hands from her waist to her chest while drawing circles with his fingers. Her own fingers began entangled themselves in his hair, though it was different from her habitual curling. More pulling instead. They seemed to do this on their own. His eyes darkened with something she couldn’t recognize. It made her want to do something. Cinder’s hands dug deeper into his hair, hugging his face closer to hers. She could feel his breath tickle her mouth. 

Warnings popped in her head. Thoughts we're impossible to form. Her eyes trailed to his mouth, carved elegantly on his face, and lips she wanted to kiss. Badly.

She looked up at him to find that he was starting at her lips which slightly parted at the discovery. He licked his own and started to lean in.

They met in the middle with a slow, enjoyable kiss that gradually got more passionate. Soon enough she was pulling at his hair, desperately kissing him without any thought of stopping. He pushed her back until she hit the wall. One of his hands grabbed her cheek while the other explored her lower body.

Kai left her mouth and started again on her throat, sowing kisses up and down on it. She gasped when he reached her collarbone, again when he squeezed her hip, and again when he returned to her lips. Cinder wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling more than content with his actions.

They slowed down a bit until they remembered air existed, panting extensively. His forehead bunched with hers and their lips illustrated matching flimsy smiles. 

“I wasn’t expecting that.” She confessed. Truly, she was surprised, but now that she thought about all the signs he’d been giving she should have at least anticipated it. The right space, the forced warmer climate, the crimson on his cheeks, her mind recalled all of it and truly she should have known better.

“Me neither. I’m not disappointed though.” He gave her a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Neither am I.” A peck on the cheek.

“Can you ditch the guest room and sleep with your dance partner tonight?” Kai asked. He gave her his signature puppy dog eyes and double downed with a kiss on her jaw.

Cinder sighed. “I hope so, but I have to get my stuff. I always want to, you know.”

A kiss on her other cheek. He was starting to pick it up again, as if he was saying ‘all right, break over, time for part two, let’s go, let’s go!’. 

“I know.” Kai barely grunted out, too preoccupied with sparking kisses on her neck. Cinder felt him care for the kisses he planted with careful detail before. He’d turn her neck into a rose garden soon enough and pick out her own flowers to give to her every morning. She subconsciously threw her head to give him more space. Her body obviously reacted kindly to his advancements. She never knew the lack of control she had over her body, or rather, the amount of control Kai had over hers. It was almost traitorous if she didn’t enjoy it. 

“Kai, I have to get my toothbrush.” No response. He must’ve not heard her. Now paying attention to the signs, she realized he was lost in a passionate cloud. 

He tried to push her even further on the wall that Cinder almost caved in. She decided she needed to put a stop to his activity before it went too far. Or, at least before he reached her lips because then she was confident she wouldn’t be able to control the consequences then.

Placing her palms firmly on his shoulders, she pushed gently until he realized what she was doing. His brow furrowed in confusion, then his eyes lost a little of its hungered haze. His face transitioned apologetically. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.” He straightened up. “So, will you spend the night with me, a handsome, charming, funny young emperor or in your dusty, unattractive, boyfriend-less room?”

She gave a dry laugh. “I already said yes but I need to get my toothbrush.”

He cocked his head. “At this point, just leave it here.”

“Well I need that among other things.”

“But it’s on a whole other floor!” He whined. Cinder held back a chuckle. He was unbearably cute when he couldn’t bear to be alone. “Borrow mine if you have to!” She forgot how desperate he gets. The best ego boost ever. 

“I’ll be quick.” This time she made a move and pecked him on the nose. He tried to glare but his ears reddened. “I promise.”

She left her spoiled Emperor before he could complain about her absence and practically ran to her room to collect all her things. To be honest, she wasn’t sure if she could bear to be alone again either. After so much of Kai, she could barely imagine virtually none of Kai. 

The Dark Days. They have been erraticated from her mind with no explanation. She wasn’t complaining.

Soon enough she was in front of Kai’s door with brushed teeth and fresh clothes.

When he opened the door he looked her up and down, lingering at certain moments, and raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget your toothbrush.”

“Uh, no, it’s in the bag.” She lifted a small tote bag that he was too blind to notice.

“You can always use mine.” He repeated. “It’s the same as kissing.”

“I can assure that it is not the same as kissing, and are the cause of many diseases.” 

“Such as?” 

She snorted. “Delusion. Which you don’t need more of.” She let herself in, forcing her way through Kai.

“Hey!” he countered. “On what grounds am I delusional?”

Sighing, she plopped herself on his bed. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that after I rejected to go to the ball with and you still persisted in asking me.”

“Well it worked out in the end, didn’t it?” Kai walked towards her in a very slow pace, as if he were executing some scheme.

“A revolution and a failed marriage later, it did.”

He reached the foot of the bed and crept on next to her as his goal. She gulped, a feeling of anticipation rose in her chest. “At least you’re here with me.” He inched closer until he was properly on top of her. “Safe.” He murmured, nearing her mouth. “Healthy.”

He suddenly grabbed her body, shocking her and inciting a surprised gasp. They flipped positions so that she was now on top of him. “And in my arms.”

A giddy and satisfied smile appeared on his face. She had the sudden need to wipe it off his face with her lips. More warnings lit up her vision and she blinked it away, along with the desirous thoughts. But they always lingered, like a short breath on a cold morning.

She didn’t know what to do with her arms, or her legs, or her waist. She was very much a ragdoll at this point and she wouldn’t have complained if Kai treated her as such. The only thing she could control was her head as it hovered over his. She had a feeling that if she didn’t kiss him, he would.

So she did. Slowly, tenderly, and mindfully. Her hands fired up again and found new places to trace on his chest. One of his hands got caught up in her hair while the other gradually palmed the skin of her waist. Cinder might’ve made a noise or two because Kai abruptly flipped them over again.

There was a ‘hmpth’ from one of them, she didn’t know who nor cared, and once again the kiss turned passionate. He pressed his body against her as the hand on her back slid up her shirt. He returned to her neck as her hands pulled on his pajama shirt. She felt repetitive and slightly painful tugs on her scalp as he tried to make more space for his mouth. It was more enjoyable than expected.

“Stars,” He muttered. She thought she imagined it until he kept going. “I love your neck.”

The words shocked her, even in that hungered haze. It made want to do something, to want more. She groaned as her hand grabbed his jaw and pushed it up until their lips met. She kissed him with a new type of craving, with the same type of desire from earlier. This is time she didn’t suppress it. Her metal hand slipped underneath his shirt and rubbed his back, while her fleshed one tugged his hair in a frenzy. More gasps and small noises were let out. Every time she heard her name escape his lips she would respond by kissing him on the sensitive part of his neck where she’d get more response out of. It gave her more drive to feel and peck his skin, to kiss and suck his lips, to whisper and murmur his name. Her heart pounding in her chest made it all the more intense, and even more so when she could feel his.

The more she thought about them, the more Cinder wanted to smile. While her lips were practically hovering over his ear, she couldn’t help but grin, then laughter spilled out. She dug her head into the crook of his neck, trying, and failing, to stop herself.

He pulled away so they met eye to eye. How he got underneath her, she couldn’t remember, but, stars, he was gorgeous in this angle. And his shirt was practically undone so her eyes couldn’t help but linger. She felt his soft fingers draw circles on the small of her back as he grinned up at her.

“What’s so funny, my love?” Kai asked. His voice was rough and lips plump from kissing for so long. It was surprisingly attractive. Well, it shouldn’t be surprising because almost everything about Kai is attractive, especially to her.

“I don’t know. I just felt like laughing.” She let out another giggle. “I feel so…” She paused, searching for the right word.

“Happy? Joyful? Bliss?” He offered.

“Euphoric.” She smiled, kissing his nose. She rather liked his nose, as she did his neck, and his face, and oh-so-mangificent eyes, and his elegant hands, and his intelligent voice, and his lips, oh stars his lips! She adored his lips, and how they felt against hers. Especially how they felt against hers.

Her gaze paused at the swollen sight, trying her best to swallow the urge to devour them again. Just how plump could they get anyway? 

Kai had other plans. He grinned like an amazed artist satisfied with his work. He brought his hands to either sides of her bare hips, making her heart jump in excitement, and laid her down next to him.

Their eyes met for the thousandth time that night but in this moment she saw stars, galaxies, and universes of wonder in his. 

“Kai?” She murmured, breaking the silence.

“Yes, my love?”

“I think I’m going to sleep here tonight.”

He smiled, eyes tinkling at the joke. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, my love.”

He pulled her close so they could fold on each other, limbs intertwining with limbs. She smiled as her cheek pressed to her chest. His leg rested on her hip and his hand played with her locks.

Not very long after, their hearts matched each other’s beats and they fell into a long and comfortable sleep.

A/N: So here's that one make out pic I promised to post... Whatever. Hope you like :D Tell me if you no like D:

Tagging: @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @the-wee-woo-royal @deprivedmusicaljunkie @crescentchat @notjacinclay @wheresmymom-imlost @salt-warrior @rapunzelfromthemoon @briggycat @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @definitelynotisabel @wassupnye (these are for my kaider ONLY fics so please ask if you want to be tagged or removed <3)

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I am at the midpoint of this drama! Yay! 🤗

And Tingye is still fucking off to who knows where and not getting on with making Minglan his wife 🤬🤬 My guy, please hurry! There are at least two spineless invertebrates still milling around, trying to make a mess of her life, and if you don't come back soon, I'm sure even more pests will crawl out of the woodwork. Ew.

***

An understatement 🤣🤣

***

Aww, baby no 😢

This is what happens when you have immature parents who have shit for brains. Shen Hong's playing favourites and neglecting all his children except Molan left them feeling so unworthy and unloved. And Wang Ruofu, bless her, does love Rulan to the best of her ability, but she is so superficial, materialistic and simply not smart, so Rulan grew up feeling that her love was conditional.

But this sisterly bonding is nice. They could be such good friends and allies!

***

LMAO, I, for one, am looking forward to seeing her head explode 🤯🤯

***

Girl. There is no man alive worth jumping into the abyss for.

***

THE AUDACITY OF THESE PEOPLE, I CANNOT.

This is such nonsensical, shameless, manipulative bullshit.

YOU TAKE IN COUSIN CAO.

YOU FEED HER.

YOU CLOTHE HER.

FUCK THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU.

***

OH HELL NO.

She just wants to get Minglan away from Granny because she thinks a sixteen-year-old will be easier to manipulate when she's alone!

I hate these people with a burning passion 🤬🤬

***

BITCH. DIE.

I thought I couldn't hate anyone more than Princess Pingning and then these wretches came along to prove me wrong 🤬🤬

***

FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF

TO QUOTE MY FAVOURITE QUOTE:

Fuck off. Then keep fucking off. Keep fucking off until you get to a gate with a sign saying "you can’t fuck off past here" climb over the gate, dream the impossible dream, and keep fucking off forever.

***

LMAO, it took her a whole five minutes to drop the mask 😂

RUN, MINGLAN, RUN!!

Granny Sheng made the wrong judgment call, these are not good people and you will not be happy here.

***

OK, I have to give credit where credit is due.

He seems like a good guy. A little bit spineless, but he's working hard to grow one.

***

I am beyond fed up with these people.

THEN HURRY UP AND DIE.

***

MTE, Granny 😠

She has been disrespected enough.

***

Yeah, she just ruined your marriage prospects.

Enjoy!

***

I see Molan is reaping the benefits of her splendid marriage.

***

The fucking nerve of these Cao people.

Not only is Cousin Cao a convicted criminal, she was also married already to whomever and is now infertile because the main wife poisoned her. And this is who they ruined He Hongwen's engagement to the most perfect woman for? THE NERVE!!

In any case, good for Big Madam. I am on the side of every main wife who poisons her husband's mistress whom she is forced to take into her own damn house for whatever reason.

Also, I laughed when he said she tried to kill herself but of course they "saved her" 🤣🤣 OF COURSE THEY DID!!

Fuck manipulators.

[bykii]

angst for whatever character u want i dont really care who its just been on my mind

minors dni 18+ | pronouns: gender neutral |contains: angst, like smidge of fluff, no named best friend, uhhhh i felt played so u guys have to as well

he was always so sweet, the way your best friend would care for you. taking care of you when you're ill, wordlessly giving his jacket when you were cold, even offering to carry you to the car when your feet hurt after a long day of hanging out. your heart grew fond of the way he treated you, making your feelings impossible to bottle up. even his friends knew about your admiration with him being more than oblivious to how you've been around him.

it was one night, he had come over after you needed a break from work. you've been so stressed you nearly exploded at your coworkers before clocking out. luckily, he had come over with snacks and flowers to cheer you up. all his actions made you question how he felt about you. it was sweet.

the two of you decided on a movie to cooldown. he plopped himself on the couch, opening his arms to invite you in. shrugging to yourself, you found a spot engulfed in his warmth. the movie was slow and long for such an overhyped film. a yawn escapes your mouth which prompted your best friend to giggle. you hummed on his chest, fighting your sleep. he pressed a kiss on your head as a sign of reassurance to succumb to your slumber.

then another kiss on your forehead. thus prompting you to tilt your head up to look at him.

then one on your nose. your cheeks were glowing bright with color. you both locked eyes at one another. a smile plastered on his face as he looked down at you. something in your brain was buffering for a second when you examined his features.

out of curiosity, you pursed your lips out at him. he snickers to himself before leaning down to press his lips onto yours. his lips were soft and comforting. what was going on? kissing your best friend was never in your books. you pulled away, staring back at him. "sleep, i know you're tired," he said softly.

"but we're hanging out," you whined.

"i'll be fine, just sleep here," his hand rubbed your back while the other turned off the movie. you sighed, admittedly your eyes were already getting droopy at the sight of the film. you looked up once more, only this time he puckered his lips out to you.

one last kiss before sleeping.

it was only a week or so later. you, him, and all his friends hanging out at one of their houses. everyone was doing something different, some playing video games, others just talking, whilst you mind yourself at the kitchen counter. you admired how well he would get along with his friends.

your phone began to buzz, it was work. rolling your eyes, you stepped into the hallway to take the call. they were asking a bunch technical things, hours, overtime, blah blah blah. soon after the phone call ended, you stared at your screen before walking out the hallway. yet, something caught your ear, halting your steps.

"yeah they were so sweet!" you heard. "i took them to that one cafe by the college. we talked about work, interests, and just random stuff."

"i take it the date went well?" one of his friend's states.

"what about y/n?" another asked. "did you tell 'em about the date?"

"not yet. i don't think i wanna say anything to them until i know how i feel about this date," your best friend spoke. "we already planned another date so, i'm excited."

"did you guys kiss or anything?" the friend speaks again.

"mhm, we held hands most of the time we were together," he chuckled. "i think i'm starting to like them. i hope things go well."

that was the moment. all the voices tuned out, sick to your stomach, not sure to speak up or to run away. your chest hurt even more, thinking back to when you two kissed. thoughts flooded your head with regrets. was it just for fun? did the kiss mean nothing to him? why would he kiss you back if it didn't mean anything?

fighting your tears, you took a deep breath before taking a step out from the hall. eyes moved to look at your figure. you couldn't bear to make eye contact with anyone but you could feel the worry emit from his friends. "oh! y/n i didn't know you were back there i thought you were in the kitchen?" he asked, tilting his head.

"oh," you said softly. "it was too loud out here so i went back here to answer a work call."

"oh, did you-" he starts but you cut him off quickly.

"i have to go, work called me in. they need a lead on shift and i'm the only one reliable," you lied thru your teeth. your chest pain sharpened. "thanks for inviting me, i'll see you guys next time."

heading for the door, your steps were quick. "y/n, wait let me walk you out!" your best friend called out.

stupid.

"why are you walking so fast? i said i'd walk you out," he huffed as he caught up to you at the apartments elevator.

his stupid kindness.

"don't wanna be late," you grumbled. "go back to the guys, i'll be fine."

stupid caring self.

"y/n, i always walk-"

stupid. stupid. stupid.

you thought.

"i said i'm fine," you snapped. "i'll see you when i see you."

ding.

the elevator opened, you stepped in. not realizing there were tears running down your face. you turned around, facing him. concern was written all over his face. you wiped your face as the doors began to shut. locking eyes with him one last time, before never seeing him again.