#and that was on a shiny and slick surface

[queeriboh]

I have sunday off and I keep forgetting I have to do tomorrow first

[meganegatari]

is this vore? /hj. hi. im gonna squeet. and dunk my head into ice water digital footprint pls forgive me. may have wrote this with one hand IM JOKING. this is just somethin quick because i need to get it out of my system ok.

nsfw drabble—biting sev all over ♡ sub!sevika, edging, fingering (all s! receiving), idk what else girl i can't see straight cuz of her...

and there she lay before you, bare and twitching, in a state she's kept very well hidden from everyone—except you.

her lip tucked under her teeth, head thrown back and half-lidded, blown out eyes lazily following your movements; she was laying sprawled on the mattess. she had tried and failed to hold herself up, both arms trembling under her weight until they eventually gave out.

this was the result of you—oh, how evil you were—edging the poor woman for an eternity. in actuality, you had tortured her to such a point she didn't even have the energy to bark orders at you like she usually does.

all she could do, was whine. whines of your name, wordless huffs and quiet pleas were all she could sound out. and every so often she'd squirm under you and break eye contact when you did something so obscene, even she couldn't handle it.

you wore the most wicked of sneers on your face excitedly, using all your strength to push her thick muscular thighs outward, until you gazed upon a sight worth winning wars for.

the torture you faced her with had her pussy throbbing. no, that was an understatement. you could see every individual muscle controlling her shiny lips jump at the cool air, you could see the way her clit was nearly whispering for you to touch it, and not to mention the pooling of pearlescent slick dribbling out of her pulsating hole, making a literal puddle under her ass.

now this? this was a never going to get old. you'd plaster the image of her fucked-out self on every surface, take a polaroid and carry it around with you. you were salivating. drool was almost running down your chin at the sight.

but alas, your blissful trance was cut short, by none other than her gruff voice.

"hey. you gonna stare or am i gonna have to finish this myself?" her voice shook, then her eyes darkened and she spat, "you'd like watching that though, wouldn't you. fuckin'—holy-!!"

you didn't give her the time of day to listen to her bitching about, and you cut her off by lunging forward and sinking your teeth into the soft flesh of her right inner thigh.

her shocked intake of air quickly turned into a pornographic moan, her back arching, her breathing quickening, and her thighs fighting to close around your head.

you knew that was her weakness. your teeth in her skin? pff she was a goner. you used that to your advantage as much as you could, she deserved earth shattering orgasms just as much as the next gal.

her noises were bordering on a shriek as soon as you circled her hole with a digit, grinning into her skin at the way she was sucking you in, legitimately trapping your finger inside her.

you felt the flutters of an impending orgasm tickle your immobilized finger, and with great effort you removed your mouth from her thigh and pulled your finger out.

the look on her face when you did that felt sharper than if she had stabbed a spear right through your heart. when sevika gives one of her famed death glares, the word stops spinning. but you being you, it just spurs you on more.

before she can protest you migrate up and place gentle kisses on the side of her neck, right on her pulse point, as a soothing motion before you did what you really wanted.

you sank your teeth in her flesh as hard as your jaw allowed you to, the tangy taste of her blood invading your mouth.

simultaneously, you brought your hand back down to her neglected pussy, pushed your thumb up against her thumping clit, and slid your two middle digits inside her—within moments finding her spongy sweet spot.

the cries of pleasure were stuck in her throat, and you couldn't see from what you were doing, but you'd bet your entire life's savings that her eyes were rolled so far back in her skull only the whites would be visible.

your fingers were working hard, all in harmony to bring her to that peak she so craved, and luckily it hit her after no time at all.

her whole being tensed, a low groan reverberated through the room as one of her hands flew to grab a chunk of your hair, further pushing your body flush against hers. you didn't move your mouth, it was suctioned against her in such a way that was guaranteed to leave a nasty bruise on her skin the next day, but she loved it. you did as well.

you felt a gush of warm fluid on your palm, and chuckled into her skin while she shook all over, needy, animalistic noises being all she could produce.

you put in the work and made sure she was utterly spent, then lifted yourself off of her to enjoy the look on her face. she looked so at peace, so satisfied and ethereal, you adored her more than words could ever say.

and likewise, she did you. she cracked open one eye and smiled widely, opening her arms and beckoning for you to lay back on top of her in an embrace.

naturally, you did just that. eagerly burying your face in the crook of your neck, you kissed over the bite mark you left, ran your tongue over the indents in her skin and reveled in the little whimpers she made.

she always had more flesh you could lovingly bite, why stop at just one square inch?

sev taglist (not tagging everyone still cuz YALL SIGNED UP FOR TLOU AND IM A PEOPLE PLEASERRRR SORRY): @fizyypopp @luvssliyahh @wizard-pdf @dearangxl @melsmunch

[carawenfiction]

One night you are faced with a dream that alters something within you, forcing you to return to your now abandoned childhood home to search for answers.

Little do you know that the house is connected to another realm where darkness reigns and sunlight is nothing but a distant notion; a realm your family appears to be mysteriously involved with.

Upon encountering a group of paranormal beings of unknown nature, you are drawn further into a strange and unsettling existence as you strive to uncover the truth of your past and find your way back home.

Whatever path you choose, remember to look out for your own shadow.

"The Shadow Society" was first published in 2020 and is currently undergoing an extensive rewrite. The new version leans more into mystery elements with added focus on characters, relationships and how they are forged in a world where nothing is certain.

One sequel is planned to release once the rewrite is finished.

The rewrite of “The Shadow Society” is an 18+ game that includes depictions of violence, mental health, mental illness and sexual content.

Demo is temporarily private.

Patreon | Ko-fi

* Play as a male, female or non-binary main character whose personality, actions and appearance are shaped entirely by your choices. * Play as gay, bi, straight, aromantic or asexual. * Discover a hidden world and take the first steps in uncovering its secrets. * Pursue one of five love interests along with two hidden ones, become entangled in a triangle between two siblings or remain single. * Determine who to trust and who to shun, who to befriend and who to antagonize, among a cast of characters with differing secrets and motivations. * Experience a story that explores the meaning of reality and illusion, truth and deceit, in a world of shadows that mirrors our own.

✹ A (Azuridian/Azuridia)

Their eyes, cold and piercing, seem filled with bitter truths that they refuse to share. They protect their knowledge fiercely and disclose only what they believe they need to when the situation calls for it. Some call them arrogant, but to that they would retort that they are the only one who can do what needs to be done. Driven and direct with a dash of sensuous charm, they don't hesitate to pursue what they want.

Appearance (male version): His face is angular and pale, his lashes a fringe of silver-white. His hair is slicked back, the sides of his head trimmed in an orderly fade cut. He wears a form-fitting, navy blue suit that gives a refined and sophisticated impression. A powerful yet subtle presence, he seems to quietly command the very air around him, emanating a sense of confidence that is both inviting and intimidating all at once.

Appearance (female version): Her face is angular and elegant, her lashes a fringe of silver-white. Her hair is gathered into a high ponytail that reaches her lower back, the sides of her head trimmed in an orderly fade cut. A sensual carmine red blooms on her lips, standing in stark opposition to her somewhat achromatic appearance. She wears a form-fitting, navy blue suit that gives a refined and sophisticated impression. A powerful yet subtle presence, she seems to quietly command the very air around her, emanating a sense of confidence that is both inviting and intimidating all at once.

✹ G (Gwyndal/Gwendolyn)

There is something palpably playful about their gaze. When turned your way, it seems to shine with the same kind of interest a child might show a shiny new toy. Though jovial and charming, there's something just beneath the surface of their demeanor that gives the impression that something far less pleasant lurks within. G has certain obsessive tendencies - their tireless interest in anything related to the 'Sunworld', as they are prone to call your home, for one - and seems to prefer the company of humans to the company of their own kind.

Appearance (both versions): They have tawny skin that contrasts with the short, blond hair that frames their rounded face, a slightly upturned nose sitting above charmingly curved lips. Their clothing style is eclectic and flashy, consisting of a torn yellow shirt with red- and black checkered pants. Silver chains hang around their neck and wrists, the metallic sheen matching the piercings that line their pointed ears.

✹ M (Michael/Michaela)

Though they aren't considered particularly bright, their dark eyes hold a reassuring warmth, alight with zest that could lure a smile from even the most jaded of people. But at times, when they think you aren’t looking, that spark seems to dim, the faint creases in their face appearing more prominent.

They are quick with quips and remarks they most likely hope others find witty, and equally quick to lend an ear and protect the things they care about.

Appearance (male version): His hair is dark brown, thick and tousled, often falling into his eyes. As an avid athlete he works out frequently, sporting a toned and muscular figure as a result. His clothing style is simple and comfortable, rarely going beyond casual jeans, t-shirts and sneakers.

Appearance (female version): Her hair is dark brown and thick, often pulled back in a high ponytail. As an avid athlete she works out frequently, sporting a toned and muscular figure as a result. Her clothing style is simple and comfortable, rarely going beyond casual jeans, t-shirts and sneakers.

✹ Q (Quaiel/Quarie)

A great, invisible chasm stretches between them and the people in their vicinity, a silent yet keenly felt tension seeming to follow wherever they go.

Bereft of the ability to speak, they somehow still appear more forthcoming than the people they surround themselves with. Somewhere deep inside they harbor an unyielding loyalty to A that is difficult to comprehend, especially when the latter's morals and actions often clash with what Q would normally agree with.

Though they rarely seek others out willingly, their eyes are kind, and when gazing upon someone they care about, a subtle tenderness seems to shine through.

Appearance (male version): His creamy skin is dotted with freckles that peek out around the dark muzzle covering his lower face. His red hair is curly and unevenly cut, long in the front and short in the back. A tattered, knitted cardigan falls off one shoulder, reaching a little past his knees. Beneath he wears a white shirt carelessly half-tucked into umber pants.

Appearance (female version): Her creamy skin is dotted with freckles that peek out around the dark muzzle covering her lower face. Her red hair, curly and wild, falls over her shoulders down to her waist. A tattered, knitted cardigan lays half-neglected at her elbows and reaches a little past her knees. Beneath she wears a white shirt carelessly half-tucked into umber pants.

✹ R (Rheylo/Rheyla)

Their gaze is withdrawn, bordering on hostile, their eyes a pair of flames that seem to want to incinerate whoever they’re aimed at. They hide themselves behind long, black hair and a hood, wielding snark and sharp comments as weapons to fend off deeper probing into their psyche. For all their posturing, they get embarrassed easily and may not be quite as laidback as they hope to appear.

Appearance (male version): His skin is medium-dark, a faint of stubble crawling along his jaw on the half of his face that he deigns to show. Though difficult to spot, a small gap that he'd rather keep hidden rests between his front teeth. His straight, midnight-black hair falls down to his elbows, obscuring the right half of his face.

Three braids adorn his left temple - two slim plaits framing a thicker rope that drapes artfully across his shoulder. He is clad entirely in obsidian hues. A form-fitting, sleeveless turtleneck hugs his torso, while wide trousers skim his calves, cinched above knee-high boots. A yukata-inspired, cloak-like garment covers the inner layers, generous sleeves pooling at his wrists. A heavy belt circles his waist, securing the flowing fabric.

Appearance (female version): Her skin is medium-dark. In her upper row of teeth, between darkly painted lips, rests a small gap she'd rather keep hidden. Her straight, midnight-black hair falls down to her elbows, obscuring the right half of her face.

Three braids adorn her left temple - two slim plaits framing a thicker rope that drapes artfully across her shoulder. She is clad entirely in obsidian hues. A form-fitting, sleeveless turtleneck hugs her torso, while wide trousers skim her calves, cinched above knee-high boots. A yukata-inspired, cloak-like garment covers the inner layers, generous sleeves pooling at her wrists. A heavy belt circles her waist, securing the flowing fabric.

✹ Jaelyn

Your ex-best friend/ex-lover. Though quiet and reserved, they are not without humor; once comfortable with a person, their perceived shyness can turn into good-natured smugness and gentle back-and-forth teasing. They have a certain fondness for books and will take whatever opportunity they get to quote a work they enjoy.

Jaelyn works closely with the Shadowman/Shadowlady and is often the one who carries out their orders, though not always without complaint. Though loyal, they are not a blind follower and possess strong opinions of their own. As for their motives and how they ended up in their current position is anyone’s guess.

Appearance (male version): His eyes are a mystery to you, concealed behind a pair of gradient colored, diamond-shaped glasses. He has dark skin and long tight curls that are parted on one side. His lean figure is draped in clothing that appears at once modern and antique, consisting of a violet blouse with an intricately designed jabot, waist-high pants and a pair of leather boots.

Appearance (female version): Her eyes are a mystery to you, concealed behind a pair of gradient colored, diamond-shaped glasses. She has dark skin and long tight curls that are parted on one side. Her lean figure is draped in clothing that appears at once modern and antique, consisting of a violet blouse with an intricately designed jabot, waist-high pants and a pair of leather boots.

✹ The Shadowman/The Shadowlady

It was their voice that drew you in first; the kind that could lure anyone into a sense of security and then cruelly leave you to navigate best you could in its absence. Smooth and mysterious, they grace your life through whispers and echoes of times long gone. When you first meet them face to face, they hide behind masks and shadows alike.

But who are they, really?

Appearance (male version): His turquoise eyes glow with a terrifying kind of potency, lips formed in an ever-present half-smile. He stands taller than most humans, his long hair streaked with black and silver, gathered in a loose ponytail that reaches his lower back. A few wisps that have managed to free themselves almost appear to float around his face, dark clinging to shining grey like black ink stuck to parchment.

His long lashes, each black one followed by one of silver, curve above tiny streaks and dots delicately painted to accentuate his eyes. A golden earring attached to a peacock feather hangs from his left ear, swaying delicately when he moves.

His skin appears polished and glossy, like that of a porcelain doll, his figure lithe and broad shouldered. He wears an iridescent blue and green robe that is adorned with gemstones. Underneath he wears a fitted, sleek black suit, complete with a tie. Strange, dark dust covers his hands and long, claw-like nails.

Appearance (female version): Her turquoise eyes glow with a terrifying kind of potency, lips formed in an ever-present half-smile. She stands taller than most humans, her long hair streaked with black and silver and pulled back in an elaborate updo. A few wisps have managed to free themselves from the chignon and float gently around her face, dark strands clinging to shining greys like black ink stuck to parchment.

A golden earring attached to a peacock feather hangs from her left ear, swaying delicately when she moves. Her lashes are long, each black one followed by one of silver. She wears purple-blue eyeshadow and shimmering purple lipstick.

Her skin appears polished and glossy, like that of a porcelain doll. She wears an iridescent blue and green robe that is adorned with gemstones. Underneath she wears a low-cut dress  that clings to her voluptuous figure. Strange, dark dust covers her hands and long, claw-like nails.  

Appearance (non-binary version): Their eyes glow with a terrifying kind of potency, lips formed in an ever-present half-smile. They stand taller than most humans, their long hair streaked with black and silver and pulled back in a loose ponytail that reaches their lower back. Their lashes are long, each black one followed by one of silver.

Sometimes their figure appears soft, shaped by feminine curves, other times lithe and slender with broadened shoulders. They wear an iridescent blue and green robe that is adorned with gemstones and slide off their shoulders, baring the intricate piece of golden jewellery tied around their neck.

Their long lashes, each black one followed by one of silver, curve above shimmering purple-blue eyeshadow and purple lips. A golden earring attached to a peacock feather hangs from their left ear, swaying delicately as they move. Strange, dark dust covers their hands and long, claw-like nails.  

Current Progress:

Written/reworked chapters: Prologue, chapter 1, beginning of chapter 2.

Edited chapters: Prologue, chapter 1.

Demo wordcount excluding code: ~35k as of end of April 2025.

Total wordcount excluding code: ~47k as of end of April 2025.

Credits

@filopay for the gorgeous cover art

Canva for the other images used in this post

[mattslutt]

SWEET TOOTH - c.sturniolo

in which: fuckboy!chris toys innocent!reader with a lollipop.

contains: oral (f receiving), lollipop play, teasing, dirty talk, consensual control, bondage (a bit later), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy drunk chris.

He was trouble from the moment you met him—messy hair, cocky grin, that slouched swagger like he owned every room he walked into. Chris was the kind of guy mothers warned daughters about. And yet, somehow, you ended up alone with him tonight, tucked away in the back of his place—his room dimly lit, music low, your heart pounding loud enough to drown it all out.

You sat on the edge of his bed, knees together, wearing the soft dress you thought was just cute enough. He stood in front of you, shirt half-unbuttoned, sucking lazily on a red lollipop like he hadn’t been staring at you like he was starving for hours.

“Y’know,” he drawled, pulling the candy from his mouth with a wet pop, “you keep lookin’ at me like that, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want me to ruin you.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t…” you started, but your voice betrayed you—breathy, uncertain.

Chris smirked. “Don’t what, baby?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He stepped between your knees, fingers under your chin, tilting your face up toward him. “That’s the whole fuckin’ point.”

And then he kissed you.

It started soft—teasing. But it didn’t stay that way. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting, coaxing, demanding. By the time he pulled back, your thighs were already pressed together, and he knew it.

“You trust me?” he murmured, that edge in his voice like velvet wrapped around steel.

You nodded. Slowly. Nervously.

His grin deepened. “Good girl.”

And then he had you on your back—completely bare, panties peeled off with slow, torturous precision. Your breath hitched when you felt the cool air hit your soaked folds. Chris looked down like he was admiring art.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he muttered, licking his lips. “You want me to teach you how this goes?”

You blinked up at him, your body already trembling with anticipation. “Y-yeah.”

He pulled the lollipop from his mouth again. Sticky. Shiny. Slick with spit.

“Ever had one of these… somewhere else?”

You shook your head.

He grinned like the devil himself. “Then lucky me. First lesson.”

And then he slid it down.

You gasped—legs trying to clamp shut, but he spread you open with ease. The cool, wet surface of the candy traced through your folds, drawing slow circles around your clit, down to your entrance. You whimpered, hips jerking when he gently pushed the rounded tip inside.

“Relax,” he said, voice gravel against your neck. “I’ve got you.”

He began to slide it in and out—slow at first, then deeper, letting the lollipop coat in your slick, dragging over your most sensitive places with unbearable pressure.

You arched, mouth open, moaning without shame now.

Chris watched, jaw tight, eyes glued to where your body took the candy. “Look at that… you’re fuckin’ dripping. You like being used like this, don’t you?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. All you could do was whimper, nodding furiously, your legs shaking.

And just when you were right there—panting, needing, desperate—he pulled it out.

You almost cried out from the loss.

But then he dropped between your legs and devoured you.

His mouth was hot, hungry, wicked. Tongue fucking into you like he needed it to breathe, lips sucking on your clit until your thighs clamped around his head and you were sobbing his name. He moaned into you—like he loved the taste—and it only made you spiral faster.

And then—

He pulled back, spit-slick and glistening, and shoved the lollipop into your mouth.

Your lips parted instinctively, tasting yourself, tasting him. It was sweet and obscene and filthy—and you moaned around the candy, looking up at him with wide, glassy eyes.

Chris looked wrecked.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growled, rubbing himself through his jeans with a pained expression. “I’m not even close to done with you.”

And you?

You didn’t want him to be.

Within moments, your wrists were bound above your head—Chris had tied them with the black silk tie he’d pulled off his nightstand, looping it through the headboard slats and knotting it tight enough to hold, but gentle enough not to hurt.

You tested it once. There was no give. No escape.

You were completely exposed—naked, trembling, stretched out across his bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked down at him.

He was on his knees between your thighs again, bare chest gleaming with sweat, mouth already red and slick from earlier. He looked up at you like he was starving. Like your pussy was his fucking religion.

“You thought I was done?” he murmured, voice thick and wrecked. “Baby… I haven’t even started yet.”

He dragged two fingers slowly through your folds, then sucked them into his mouth with a filthy groan. “Still so sweet. So fucking perfect. Bet I can get at least three more out of you before you beg me to stop.”

You whimpered, shaking your head, thighs already twitching. “Chris, I—I can’t—”

He smirked, dark and mean. “You can. You just don’t know it yet.”

And then his mouth was on you.

He licked like a man possessed—tongue flat and wide at first, long slow strokes that made your toes curl. Then faster. More precise. He zeroed in on your clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth hard enough to make your back arch off the mattress.

You cried out, wrists tugging helplessly against the tie.

“Fuck, yes… that’s it,” he growled, breath hot against your swollen folds. “Come on, baby, give me another.”

You didn’t have a choice.

Your second orgasm hit like a fucking train—your thighs clamping around his head, your voice breaking into high, desperate moans as your body convulsed beneath him. But Chris didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down.

If anything, he got hungrier.

“That’s my girl. So fucking good for me. Let me take what I want, just like that.”

You were sobbing now—pleasure mixing with overwhelming sensation. Every flick of his tongue on your raw, overstimulated clit made your body jolt. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as your thighs tried to twist away, but he held you down—one strong arm hooked over your hips, keeping you spread and still.

“Chris—fuck—please—too much—”

But he just groaned into you, tongue thrusting inside you now, wet and obscene. He was pussy drunk, completely gone, like the taste of you was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

Your third orgasm rolled in fast and brutal—blinding, searing, completely out of your control. You screamed his name, legs trembling violently, face soaked in tears, body shaking like you were falling apart.

Finally—finally—he pulled back.

Your chest was heaving, throat raw from crying, wrists aching from how hard you’d pulled. And Chris just stared at you—lips shiny, chin wet, his hair messy and his eyes wild with lust.

You looked wrecked.

Absolutely ruined.

And he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

He crawled up over your trembling body, cupping your flushed, tear-streaked face with both hands. Kissed your lips—softly this time, reverently.

“You did so fucking good,” he whispered against your mouth. “So perfect for me.”

Your body was limp, boneless, but you smiled faintly through the tears. “You’re insane.”

He smirked. “For you? Every time.”

A/N: since yall seem to love fuckboy!chris, here’s another one for yall 😘😘

[solardrop]

take a picture,

aaron hotchner x reader

summary: at least Hotch has a picture of you when he misses you. tags: smut. 18+ mdni, reader isn't actually here hotch is just having fun by himself. he's just jerking it idk what else to tag here sorry. not proofread word count: ~0.8k a/n: I keep saying I want to practice smut sooooo i attempted to practice. I hope you like it! you can also read it on ao3!

This was a normal reaction to missing you.

At least, that’s what Aaron tells himself, glaring down at the proof of his arousal. You’ve been gone for less than a week. But he was like this. He’d just gotten off the phone with you. Your voice was darker, raspier than last time. Your boss was really running you ragged on that work trip. It broke his heart.

He lets out a deep sigh, spitting into his palm with a grudge before slipping his hand into the elastic waist of his boxers. His cock was painfully hard from just a phone conversation. Just a few soft, “I love you’s” riling him up to an embarrassing point. He wraps a strong hand around himself, humming at the relief the simple touch gave him. There was no point sitting here, frustrated, missing you, when he could take care of himself now before bed.  

He starts off slowly, lazy strokes just along his shaft. He doesn’t squeeze at the head just yet — you wouldn’t do that, not yet. You’d make him wait, bring him as close as possible to the edge before pushing him over it. 

He could almost feel it, your perfect hands gripping his length as you pull him into a leaking mess. It was silly, really; How many times you beg to have him just like this. How everytime he erupts in your hands you thank him earnestly. Whispering praise and sweet words into his good ear, making sure he could hear every filthy, honeyed word that falls out of your mouth. 

He pulls himself out of the confines of his boxers, reaching for the drawer of the nightstand with his opposite hand. His pace increases, the wet sound of him working himself filling the room as he rummages blindly in the dresser. His face prickles as his fingers land on the leather. He shouldn’t keep doing this. It was embarrassing, and frankly disrespectful for him to do. 

But God did he miss you.

He flips open his wallet, slipping the small square photograph out of its pocket. His dick throbs as soon as his fingers touch the shiny surface. 

It wasn’t his first time doing this, tending to himself while looking at this picture of you. The thumbprint permanently embedded into the laminated coating was enough proof of that. But it didn’t make him feel any less guilty about it — if only his cock had the same shame. 

He knows the picture isn’t particularly sexy or intimate. It was just an extra headshot from work you slid his way. But you were always apart for so long. And he always wanted to see you. Until one day he realized he just … could. 

He told himself it was just one time. By the third time he said it was the last time. But by the tenth time he realized he couldn’t finish without seeing you. It was wrong, defiling an otherwise innocent photo of yours like this. He knows he really needs to stop.

 But right now? You were just so, so pretty. 

He finally shifts his attention to the head of his cock, grunting at the sensitive shock that runs through him as he spreads the gathering precum down his shaft. His eyes trace your features as he pumps himself. Your face was so bright, a beaming smile and confident eyes shining back at him. You looked so cleaned up, professional; your hair slicked back and tamed precisely. He smiles. Pressure building inside of him. Only he knows the hell that went into the simple snapshot. You curse up a storm at every curl and tuft that just wouldn't cooperate the day of. 

He really just loves everything about you. 

LIke how your eyes always pierce into his as he’s pressing into you, just like right now. 

Or how your brows are relaxed, face content; just like when you come down from your orgasms. 

Especially your lips, how they stretch around him perfectly just like- Shit. 

He pants as he grips himself at the base, screwing his eyes shut. Grunting out your name with a string of curses as he wills himself to last a bit longer. But he fucks up. Glancing at you far too soon. He makes eye contact with you, and he’s finished. His hips buck, fucking into his hand as his balls tighten almost painfully. His thighs tense as he cums, the thick spurts landing everywhere, warm drops decorating his hands and stomach. He continues to squeeze, moaning your name out into the empty walls around him. 

The tension in his belly finally fades, relief and warmth washing over him. He still strokes his softening flesh, despite his body starting to shake with sensitivity — It’s what you would do if you were here anyways. He brings the picture of you up to his face, ready to look at it once more before tucking it away again when he chokes. His skin blazes as he realizes a bit of his spend landed its way onto the small cardstock of your face. His groin whirls with excitement, again. He catches himself laughing before he could stop himself. 

At least he already has his materials out this time.

[crystalflygeo]

Kinktober Day 4 - Humping (an object) ft Neuvillette (Genshin Impact)

I wrote this in a horny haze, I wasn't myself don't loOK AT ME DON'T PERCEIVE ME BYE. (You, I blame you, you know who you are //aff)

Short puffs of breath come out of your parted lips. 

Your hands claw at his robes, his spats. There was something incredibly erotic about being fully naked, on your knees, staring up like a little eager pet at the Chief Justice of Fontaine, pristine as ever wearing his full regalia.

Even kinkier that you were in his office at Palais Mermonia. 

Oh, but that wasn’t the extent of your depravity…

You bite your lip to muffle the soft little whines that threaten to burst, hips moving back and forth, twitching, keeping a staccato rhythm as you rub your pussy on his polished black cane. Trying to get the angle just right to stimulate your needy clit. 

“Mmmm…. ah…”

Neuvillette wasn’t very sure of the appeal at first but now as he looms over you, he understands. His throat dry, jaw tight with a closed expression, yet his eyes burn with a fierce intensity, his desire barely hanging on a thread.

He catches the scent and then the sight of your slick glistening along the length of his cane and almost growls, a soft rumble on his chest. His grip tightening on the object’s handle.

You close your eyes and toss your head back, back arching.

“F-ffuck…”

“Language, dear.” He says before he can even think. His voice is deep and hoarse. 

Neuvillette tilts the cane slightly to tease your folds with the tip of it and you stutter and moan, eyes widening. “Y-yes sir…” You blurt out.

He narrows his eyes. That gone already? “Enjoying yourself, my nymph?” 

You nod, rutting frantically against the sleek object. “Yes, yes… always… wanted to do this.” Your thoughts are fuzzy, head swimming in pleasure.

He tsks. “How indecent.” 

You whine.

It goes on for a little while, your legs starting to get sore, your hips tiring and yet you’re more worked up than ever, all hot and bothered, shivering and frustrated.  

“Sir… please…” You pant.

“Hm? What is it?” He sees you stop, chest rising and falling with rapid breath, your perky nipples tantalizing.

“Please… fuck me. I need you inside me.” 

“Tired of your little indulgence already? You got yourself in this predicament.”

Oh he wants to see you beg. 

“Please, please please please, ruin me, fill me up… I need you.” 

he raises the end of the cane up closer to him, the scent of your arousal intoxicating. He runs a gloved finger along the shiny surface, gathering some of your juices, and licks at it, you whimper and squirm. “Such a waste… very well, then” Neuvillette dismisses the item with a wave of his hand, it disappears in a rain of sparkles. “Bend over my desk.” 

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 4;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

A/N: CW for intense breeding kink, blatant unremorseful infidelity, and all the weird dystopia that comes with omegaverse sex. I feel like this chapter is a lot, verging on uncomfortable in some places (which is what I was going for), read at your own discretion. 

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, Heat Sex, Knotting, ANGST!!!, Mating Rituals, Biting, Abandonment; Possessive Behavior, Guaranteed HEA, Scenting, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Potential Pregnancy but None Occurs, Aftercare, Touch Starved Joel Miller, Angst With a Happy Ending, Grief

Word Count: 6.0K

Read on AO3

Part 4;

Your heat seeps from you slowly, like dying smoke, melting, while you listen to the sound of his breathing in the dark. 

When there’s only that last ember smoldering in your mind, dipping into your belly as if it had, at last, only one last grip around your ankle keeping you trapped within yourself; you drape your body over his. 

You’d wanted to please him. For this to have been like nothing he had ever, or would ever experience again. You can’t be certain yet if you've achieved it, and yet—there’s still time. You still have a moment to work harder at this than anything you’ve ever worked at before, apply yourself entirely; with your teeth at his ribs, you promise yourself you’ll make sure he remembers this. 

“That rib’s broken,” he says, alerting you to his wakefulness. 

You kiss it once, twice, thrice; enamel against flesh again. You’d mend it with all you feel for him if you could. You’d mend him whole. 

His body is built thick and strong—a working man’s body honed by hours of hard labor. His skin, golden like that of a distilled sunflower, even in the dead drear of incumbent winter. There are freckles and moles on the skin of his broad shoulders and strong back. When you kiss your hungry path down his belly, his arms lift to stretch with the easy joy of slaked desire, and you see the sweat darkened hair of his armpits. The sight makes you head dip, go woozy—no, no, focus. You need a moment to enjoy him with alertness before it all ends. 

You steel yourself in rapt attention.

Despite the strength, there’s still a strip of fat around his belly button, belying his age. You like that it makes him soft and real, easier to dig your fingers into. He’s so masculine, he’d be entirely unapproachable if not for that little softness. The hair across his chest, running down his belly, the trail of hair that leads to the thick erection, long and dark, that hangs so heavy it can’t jut upwards against its own weight. The wide tip is an angry red, dripping creamy drool, the length of it shiny and wet like all the rest of him is, covered in your slick and fluids which sends a possessive flush of pleasure through your limbs. It lays heavily against his thigh where you mouth at it with a growling, hungry noise, taking it into your mouth to suck and lick. You watch the muscles in his chest and shoulders shiver, the thick ridge of his collar bone, the ligatures beneath his skin shifting, and it’s all so mesmerizing—a man to be possessed by, to give yourself to. To study and pick apart like a specimen.

His knot swells at the base, and as gently as you could ever possibly be, you drag the dull edges of your teeth against the soft, vulnerable skin. He lets out a whimpering sound as he comes, his chest flushing dark red. 

“That’s not where that goes,” he growls when he’s able to catch his breath. But he’d made you come so many times. You want just one more chance to give him something only for him. 

You want to look at all of him, touch all of him, know all of him. There’s something depraved in you that makes you want to look inside of him. Split him and know what the surface of his heart looks like. 

When he pulls you draped over himself to taste his own come off your tongue, he makes a hungering sound, then changes the angle of the kiss to make it deeper, and you worry you’d commit an act of violence to keep him with you. Trying to promise yourself that it’s only the fever of heat making you delusional to the point of malice, but certain that an act of betrayal would be the least compromising act you’d commit to keep him only for yourself. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you sob. He enters you with a gasp of desperation and then stills. “Why didn’t you tell me it would be like this?” The two of you lay together in the midst of the pink nest, face-to-face—your sobs quiet. “Why didn’t you warn me?” you insist, touching the tips of his eyelashes. 

“I think…I didn't know before. But now— I think we might be…” he stops again, afraid like you are, for you already know what he’ll say. It’s obvious in this bed together. “We’re very compatible,” he whispers, simplifying the matter entirely. 

“Don’t say it,” you touch his mouth now. “I understand.” How could you not?

Mates—were everything and the world outside of this room different—that’s what you’d be. 

“It’ll be okay,” Joel tries to soothe when your tears start anew. The fever swells, rushes over you, drowns you in could have’s and would be’s, in the rightness of the moment and the unfairness of your reality. 

“We were both looking for something in that church. Maybe—” you say. He shakes his head at you and it makes you angry and devastated. “I want to know you.” You rake your nails down his chest. “I want to be close to you. I—I would love you if you’d let me.” 

Maybe I already do—you think. Maybe it was instantaneous and willed by fate or God, maybe God led you to that basement within his own house of worship to find the man he’d chosen for you himself. 

His movements, his grip, they take on a frenzy. He’s impatient, clumsy with need when he rolls you over, pressing you belly down against the bed to stretch his long form over yours. Your bed had never been more comfortable than with the large, warm alpha stretched out against you, taking up most of the space. There’s giddiness bubbling up within you to match his ardor, and with his grip in your hair, he pulls your head back to kiss you, huffing hot breath against your face as if he could taste your need to be held and touched, but also your laughter. 

“I want to tie you up,” he confesses. “I want to trap you. I want to force you to stay with me.” His weight leaves your back, leaves you gasping. “—Lift your rump, that’s it…gimme your cunt. Yes—good omega.”

Pulling your hips up up up, your face pressed into the sheets, his hand smooths back and forth against that raw place between your thighs. 

“You don’t need to force me.”

You gasp as he enters you swiftly, the angle so deep and so sharp it brings tears to your eyes, a hot flush sweeping down your chest. The feeling of the wide cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, painful and pleasurable. 

“But I want to.”

“Then do it—I don’t care. Oh, oh—my tummy.”

“I know,” he coos. “I know it’s deep like this. It’s alright, this is where it goes.” 

He soothes a big hand over the skin of your abdomen where your womb hides beneath, pressing gently to feel himself moving inside. His hips press against your bottom harder, forcing your back into a tight arc, the delicate muscles of your neck and shoulders scream in protest at the forced position of submission he’s folded you into. 

He cups your cunt where he thrusts into it. “This is mine. Only I can have it, it belongs to me.” 

His voice is a feral snarl, all alpha claiming his omega. Your skin shivers, sweats, tightens to the point of excruciating pain. He grinds and grinds against that tight ring of agonizing pleasure within you. Fucks up against it so roughly it’s like he’s trying to force himself into that sacred and untouched space inside of you.. Your cunt flutters and orgasms around him as he starts to come inside of you—knot swollen to hurt. 

Yes yes. Yes yes. 

“I’m as close to your womb as anyone will ever be. It’s mine. It belongs to me. I could put a baby in you—” his voice no longer sounds his own, lost to rut, so deep and graveled. 

Again: “Yes. Yes yes yes.” You’re begging. 

“Jesus fuck.” His body jerks, his teeth clamp around your shoulder—so close, almost there.

“Please, please, alpha.”

“Damn you—” his spit smears against your shoulder, up your neck to your nape, mouth sliding. “I thought you understood.”

“I don’t care.” I don’t care I dont care I don’t care. Your knees slide against the bed, prone, spread, his. His lips are against your mating gland now when he speaks. 

You almost have him.

“You said this was a selfish thing. I don’t care. Be selfish.”

Twisting your hair in his fist, he pins your head to the bed, muscles screaming in overstrained protest, your knees slide even wider the weight of him forcing your body to do as he bids. You realize he’s coming again, encouraged by your position, and your belly practically swells with it—your alpha hissing and growling and shuddering as your cunt milks more come from his oversensitive knot. 

“Wha’dya want—me to leave my fucking wife—to breed your belly full’a me—oh, fuck—” You’re crying high pitched, wailing, the muscles of your pelvis overworked as they pull tight and shudder, contracting in a painful way. “God, help me—”

The fever is infectious and Joel is lost.

Maybe, at the end of it, you really are only animals. 

The feeling of his teeth piercing your mating gland, the smooth, painful slide—he holds you there, caught by the nape. Yes, you really are only animals. He’s bitten you. Trapped like he’d wanted. Tears slide wet and hot over your face, immediately evaporating against the scorching skin. Your mouth pants wide open in a silent scream. He’s caught you, impaled you. 

His mouth sucks and sucks, pulls back only to pierce again, deepening the wound. 

It doesn't hurt in the usual way—more so, it’s a pain that feels as if it is meant to be felt, natural. Something that stings only in a comforting way, like gratitude on a ready tongue. 

Between the two of you, the mating bond shivers and blooms awake, a chrysalis splitting open and alive.  

Yes, you decide, this is betrayal—of the gravest sort—of sanity.

This is the miracle, this is the cure to whatever sort of malady life could ever infect you with. If only the animal could understand that…

Later, you blink open dry, gritted eyes to the site of a folded sheaf of white paper set against the pink pillow. On it, his handwriting, lovely and careful: Went out for breakfast. Be back soon. -J. 

Through the window, you can hear the sad call of Mourning Doves. 

Perhaps this is where the story book begins to end. All that came before was only a prologue to the real lesson to which you will now surrender yourself to: He’s gone. 

Sitting up slowly, you take careful consideration of your body. The place between your legs shakes and pulls with tenderness, and the muscles in your lower back hurt. The heat is well and truly over with, he’d not have been able to pull himself away otherwise. Dust motes ring hollowly in the abandoned apartment, and there’s no such thing as a home without a family in it—you’re all alone. Tears begin to immediately fill your eyes and spill over as you press cautious fingertips to the still fresh wound at the back of your neck. Your mating gland is swollen, full and sore. 

You try to struggle your way out of the tangled bed, limbs weak from overuse, shivering everywhere. The linens reek of his scent and his come and you have to get away. With a great wrench, you kick away the scent of him, covering your mouth as if you’d be sick from it, tumbling to the floor beside the bed. Your shoulder knocks against the leg of the desk and the bottle of golden perfume teeters on the dangerous edge. You watch the sunflower bright liquid slosh in waves within the cut glass until it settles serenely once again. With the tip of a finger, you push it back to safety against the rattle of some forgotten keys. 

Joel’s—he’d forgotten them in his haste to get away from you and the selfish thing you’ve done. 

With shaking fingers you slide them off the desk and into your lap. He has too many—who could ever keep track of so many doors needing opening? Different keys of varying shapes and sizes. Some silver, some gold, one a copper oxidized to green color that looks ancient. What could one single man possibly need so many keys for? You count them slowly, running the pad of your thumb over the teeth of every single one—twenty seven, as old as you are. You struggle to pry your fingernail between the tongs of the thick ring, forcing one of the keys free. An innocuous gold one—something medium sized that is neither too small to be terribly important, nor too large to be easily missed. It warms quickly in your closed fist before you slip it beneath the raised edge of the perfume bottle on the desk. The golden liquid camouflages the golden key beneath it, rendering the shape of it waved and indiscernible. 

Now, there will be a place he’ll never be able to get into again without you. Somehow, the thought is comforting. 

The ending unfolds now: he’d bitten you, and now he’s run away with a sorry excuse. There’s a strange, puzzling sound coming from somewhere in your home, frightening you until you realize it’s only your soft wailing at the loss of your alpha. He’s left you. He’s left you. He won’t come back, you know it. You’ll have to move. Burn down the building. You won’t ever be able to live here happily again with the memories that have seeped into the walls of this room. He hadn’t even said goodbye and you’ll never see him again and you’ll have nothing to show for this singular moment of incredible happiness for the rest of your life. How could he just—

“Baby?”

He stands there, big and dark with his hair disheveled and his cheeks pink from the cold. A white paper bag in one fist, two cups of coffee held in his other palm. The warm glow of the hall illuminates him from behind—your breath rattles in your chest, silly, panicked creature. 

The tears dry instantly and then there’s a hollow buzzing that settles within you. The two of you stare at each other in silence for several long moments, and something in his gaze translates to understanding within you. You’ll be calm now, you’ll be prepared for whatever might come next. You think that this is what he needs from you. 

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he says, scooping you up off the floor, settling you with a deep groan. Taking you into his lap, he feeds you breakfast, watches as you take food from his hand. Your panic metamorphosizes, swoops and undulates like a wave.   

When you’ve both finished your bagels and fruit and juice, he sits you gently on the desk chair and lets you watch as he changes the bed linens. You blink up at him in a daze, watching his quick and efficient movements as he tucks and folds and pulls. You wonder who taught him. Does a creature like this come from a mother like all the rest of us do? His profile is serious, his throat red, the glands at the sides are still slightly swollen, but cooling. Unmarred. Your molars ache, saliva pooling like the venom of a snake—something unfinished. 

After the bed is made, he takes you to the small, shared bathroom. Perched naked and shivering on the counter, you watch now as he measures the temperature of the water in the shower until he’s certain it’s just right. You try to control the tremble of your skin, quietly observing, forcing yourself to hold the question on your tongue calm. You have a notion that if you stay calm, then he’ll stay calm in return. If you ask no rash questions, he’ll make no rash decisions.  

But you realize, he hasn’t looked you in your eyes a single time since he returned with breakfast, and you think you know what will happen next. Something like terrible, heartbroken certainty settles within your body. The panic evaporates into the ether. What you can see of them, his eyes, they’re like some hallowed, vacant place. 

“Joel?” You say. 

He looks up immediately, piercing you with that stare, it’s horribly empty. You don’t have anything else to say. 

You sit back, shocked with the clarity of his own metamorphosis. You can’t lie to yourself, and you cannot change a person.

No. Or…also—the lesson of your story book is very simple, you cannot fix another person. You can only fix yourself. 

When is the abdication of all pride and sense? You’d told yourself you’d started this, from the very beginning, going to that first meeting, to better yourself, to be honest, to find something that was easy, that you wouldn’t have to fight for. Contradictory things… maybe. But logical in your own complicated mind where you best understood yourself. Similarly, he’d told you once that after him, no one else would have you. Now, you see the words for what they’d really been, not a warning, but an apology. Even if he was gone, how could there ever be anyone else after him? It would be too great a fight. You feel you’d bleed to death inside if you even tried. 

Now, it says itself matter-of-factly inside your head once again, you cannot change a person.

It insists upon itself, this truth. Overriding biology or hormones or lust. You’ll let go of the silly notions of fate or God—there’s no room for that with the look on Joel’s face. 

He soaps your hair in the shower, massaging your temples and the notch at the base of your skull with large, strong fingers. He doesn’t make sounds, he focuses very intently. Tears tighten your throat again, but you’re not in your heat anymore so there’s no reason to let emotions overwhelm your actions. You hold yourself still and compliant and you let him wash your back, your throat, fingertips ghosting over the claimed mating gland, under your arms and the heaviness of your breasts and between your legs with a gentleness that strangles. 

When he dries the water from your skin, he presses a kiss to the corner of your eye, tasting the salt of grief. After, he tucks you into bed with clean skin, his heat against your back. He’s still hard for you and this is a comfort despite the pregnant tragedy that hangs above the bed. 

He orders you to sleep, and with nothing else to do but let the end come, you obey. 

A day and a night pass easily, and as dawn slinks into the quiet room, your quiet voice finally asks: “What will we do now, Joel?” 

He squeezes you tightly for one long moment. You don’t want a lot, just forever. But you think he sees that, anyway. And then he lets you go, anyway, too. Rolling over, he sits at the edge of the pink bed, elbows to knees and head hanging low. Your heart does break for him, then. The defeated man.

“Nobody ever taught me how to love someone without hurtin’ ‘em. I won’t do that to you, sweetheart. I need fixin’.”

Behind him, you kneel against his naked back, pressing a tender kiss over his gland. Your heart skips, yearns. 

When was the abdication of all pride and sense? That first footstep into a dark basement, taking a stupid pamphlet and hoping for a miracle, heedlessly pursuing a man who could never be caught. 

“I don’t think you do.”

“You’re young—”

“I already told you, I’m not that young anymore.”

“You can’t know what it’s like to live the sort of life I’ve lived. Cold and—and not myself. Just…a thing that isn’t real. Doing the things I thought I should for no good reason other than that if I didn’t do them I feared I’d lose myself entirely. My memories, my name, my brother was already gone. Not letting myself feel or taste  anything. You understand me? I—I lived like that, in a sheltered and delicate world, and I thought I was living.” He shakes his head cupped in his hands, and you kiss his neck again. “I was hibernating. So restless.” Once more he says: “I can’t believe I found you.”

He pulls himself from your touch suddenly, too big body jerking up to his feet, naked, animal-like, pacing the five meager feet of your small space restlessly, too quick for caution. On a pivot, his knee slams against the desk leg, sending the bottle of golden perfume to shatter on the floor. The scent of honey and vanilla and spice layered over orange blossom floats in the air, choking you, but Joel doesn’t seem to notice. 

Amidst the shards of glass, you can see the golden spark of his stolen key. 

“I’m broken. I’m broken, baby. And I gotta fix it. I need a miracle.” You close your eyes to his own blindness, your broken gland throbs with hurt. “If we go back to the Emmanuel…or, or—Maria had said… it’s Wednesday. If we— the both of us—”

“I’ll help you. Let me help you.”

He gives one violent shake of his head, like an absolutely not, and rakes his hands through his hair, turns again to pace the five feet backwards. The tendons in his neck strain. He can’t seem to look you in the eye. 

You don’t understand, he murmurs, but you aren’t sure which one of you he’s speaking to. “I turned my only child into a nightmare and it’s the worst thing I could’ve ever done,” he says, face averted. “I have to fix it. Maria sent details. There’s a medical facility northwards, on the outskirts of the city. It’s all very straightforward. We’ll go and we’ll take the cure they’re offering. It’ll help us. It’s a miracle. That’s what they tell you. A miracle cure for loneliness.” You can see that the muscles in his back are shaking almost uncontrollably. “We were both looking for something when we started this thing—” 

“Then I’ll help you,” you insist. “Together we can—”

“How?” he cuts you off, his voice is a violent thing. “You can’t. It was so long ago, and yet it’s the only thing that matters. And I can’t let it go. I cannot let her go. I need something more. Something that will rid me of this—this,” he chokes. “Grief—”

At that moment, you find your anger hard to sustain in the face of lost fatherhood. 

“There’s something rotten inside of me and I have to burn it out. Look at what I did. Look at my life. I married a woman I didn’t love. Why would I do that?” he asks you as if he’s genuinely hoping for an answer. “I was so lonely and I thought that was a good enough reason. I was so lonely. And I had a daughter and now I don’t. And I tried to build a life and do the things I was supposed to but I couldn't. It didn’t work, none of it, and so I couldn’t fix myself, and now I’ve found you and I wish you could fix it all—everything, my whole heart. But you can’t, it doesn’t work that way. And I’m sorry.”

You want to ask why you can’t be enough, but there’s no bravery left in your heart. And after all, you do understand. His shame, his need to turn away, but you are here and you are still because you do understand—you cannot fix a person, they can only fix themselves. 

When was the abdication of all pride and sense? Here and now. 

You aren’t going anywhere. Even if he is. 

“Okay,” you say, your voice sounds strong, sure. You’d promised you’d be gentle with him. Hadn’t you? “We’ll go. If this is what you need, I’ll go with you.”

He finally turns to look at you. “You will?” There’s pain, maybe panic in his eyes. 

There’s nothing in you that thinks to mention the bite that throbs alive and painful at your neck—the bond that sings and cries with the sorrow of what’s about to be done to it. You can feel him there at the end of your mind unfurling like a long stretching sigh, beating like a heart, and your own heart races against it, vying for the end or trying to escape what will happen to you afterwards. It will fade, you know, slowly and painfully, some slow agonizing trek back to your alone-ness.  He does not look happy, there’s satisfaction in that, in the great tactical advantage of being the one to whom the wrong has been done. 

“I—I started this. I have to see it through. I have to know.” There’s only himself left to convince. 

He kneels at your feet to dress you. Jeans and a camisole, thick socks and boots. You don three sweaters and a coat but fear you’ll never be warm again. When you rise from the bed where you’d felt that first unfurling blossom of love, where you’d felt the truth of what it was to be an omega so honestly, he presses his face to your belly where a baby could have grown had he chosen you and not his grief. His voice breaks on a sob of your name, but there are no tears from you, not yet. 

“Please don’t hold it against me. I won’t be able to live if you do.”

“I’m on birth control. You should know.” 

He looks up at you from his place at your knees, big man that he is, and there’s heartbreak on his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. You’re sure that he is. 

“Of course.”

The drive to the rented space of the medical facility, an old and drab building on the outskirts of Boston, is long and silent. He grips your hand the entire way there, determined, like he has to do this no matter the consequence to either of you. And as he drives, you watch him. That brightness you’d thought you’d seen before, it must have been a feign, an outright lie, for now, all you can see is a broken man on the precipice of his own end. As soon as you’d realized what was inside, you’d had to do everything he’d asked of you. 

It turned simple. 

The facility seems some relic of a forgotten era. Outdated, ascetic concrete and harsh architecture. It doesn't feel right to be here, and you shake beneath the clothes he’d put you in. 

You search for Maria’s face in the crowd, hoping for some false sense of comfort or understanding but she isn’t here. Why would she be? This is only a place for broken creatures, and she was but the shepherd that had offered him his choice. 

Paperwork is signed, consent forms read and reviewed, the two of you sit side by side in hard, plastic chairs. There are other demihumans here for the same thing as well, desperate for a cure for their own loneliness. You can smell it leaking out of their pores. The medical personnel are distant and professional, all betas, and you wonder if they know what it is they’re doing to the people they’re administering these drugs too. 

In the fineprint you read: By signing this document the subject agrees to the risk of the loss of all emotional feeling, even that which is associated with the designation alpha or omega. The drug administered today carries the potential side effect of leaving demi-humans in a biological state similar to that of a beta. Sexual desire, as experienced by the designations A/O are likely to be altered or extinguished.  Therefore, the possibility of a future heat or rut is unlikely post administration. Any existing mating bonds run the risk of potential severing. 

But he would get his miracle cure. And you can’t find it in your heart to hold that against him. 

He holds your hand in both of his while he waits for his name to be called, his head cast forward as if in prayer. 

When it’s finally his turn, the two of you walk down the long hallway to the administration room hand in hand. His large wide palm is comforting, his strong fingers holding you in a tight clasp. This is your last moment, and you stop him just before you enter the large room where you can see two rows of chairs facing one another, bodies lining the seats with nurses in clean white smocks moving slowly from one to the other. They have trays in their hands, with little white cups on them. Each person eagerly takes their own dose. It seems like you’re the only one here with any sort of doubt. 

You miss the stilted comfort of the old church. 

And suddenly, you feel the weight of your designation over your skin so heavily. It’d never been something to bother or shame you, but now, very nearly alone again and badly used, you feel it. 

Clearing your throat, you try to rally courage you don’t actually have and move to continue forward, but now he’s the one to pause.  

“Give me a moment,” he begs, voice rough.

-

Joel is cold, frozen again, beneath his returned coat. It smells like you, and he hopes he cares enough after he’s done with this place which he’s beginning to fear he never should have brought you to. This is no place of worship.

“Give me a moment,” he says again. 

There are so many people here, he’s surprised. Do they know what they’re giving up by doing this? Does he?

The heat of your body beside his feels like it wanes and wanes until you’re shivering also. You’re cold, it's his responsibility to keep you warm and safe and happy and he’s giving that up for something else. He has the notion that he’ll never be warm ever again unless he is with you. 

But this grief, he thinks, it insists upon itself. 

If he has his miracle, maybe he’ll be able to stay or to come back, to be fixed so that he can be right for you and fix his whole life so that everything will be able to be okay again. It’ll all be simple, perfect, miraculous. 

“I need this,” he says aloud. His words are so rusty, so ugly, so false and weak. Nothing but lies. “I need this," he says again.

He looks down at you and your eyes are wide and dry, so determined, no tears from the girl who’d sacrifice so readily for this thing he thinks he needs. 

“Do you think that your loneliness comes from your grief?” you ask him then.

“Yes.”

“So you’ll never be able to mend your loneliness unless you cure your grief.”

“Yes.”

“I see,” you say. “I understand.”

“Do you?” 

“Yes. You struggle. You’re angry. I understand.”

“I’m angry?” Your cool tone irritates something that still feels possessed by your earlier heat. He needs to learn to let that go. “Why the fuck arent you angry? I’m abandoning you. I bit you,” he says the terrible words out loud. “You should be fucking angry at me.”

He’s immediately speared by a lash of guilt so agonizing his vision blurs, and your determined look turns to one of vulnerable desperation for a single and brief moment, doubt, one which a good man would protect fiercely. He’s certain now that he should not have brought you here. Every instinct inside of him tells him so. And he wishes desperately that a man could learn from anything but his own mistakes. 

“When you go in there, what will become of me?” Your voice is quiet, slightly trembling. 

“Look at me,” he demands, smoothing his large hands over your head to gently cradle your skull in his palms. “Kiss me one more time.”

You press up on your toes, and he thinks of yesterday morning, when he’d woken to find your fever gone before he’d gone out for breakfast. The way you’d looked sitting at the edge of the bed where so much had happened to you together, hair draped over your shoulders. He’d taken you into his arms and you’d taken him into your body when you’d begged him for just once more, and with his cock throbbing hot and deep against your womb, with the fever of heat and rut burned away, your words had strangled his heart with terrifying clarity. Just once more? And never again? Could this truly be what he was choosing?

He kisses you, your mouth firm and unresponsive for a moment. 

“Now you punish me?”

“Now I remind you.”

“Kiss me back,” he demands. “Give me your mouth.” He doesn’t need reminding of what he’s losing here. He is, more than anything, painfully aware.

He pries your jaw open, tasting the salt of tears, and finally, you kiss him back with a heated, almost heartbreaking urgency. 

“You’re so determined to hurt me,” you cry.

“No, no. To save you.” He cups your cheeks gently, thumbs smoothing the wet, smooth skin beneath your eyes. His mouth pulls softly at yours, taking one last fervent taste. “You weren’t supposed to be mine, but you are. You are.” 

The feeling that he is making a mistake and yet that it is absolutely necessary crashes over him stronger than fate or biology or even God—that this path he’d set himself upon was one he is now trapped in without any other way forward. 

“Don’t forget. Don’t forget about me,” he presses against your mouth. 

“Thank you for showing me this.”

“I’m the one that should be thanking you,” he says, heart-sick.

You pull away from him, out of his embrace. 

“And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he demands. 

“For changing the game. For wanting more.”

“No—” he makes a cutting motion with his hand, “No. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

The idea of you apologizing for something he was doing to you infuriates him. 

He remembers the way you’d met, the green of the willow, the way you’d taunted and teased him with your words and your smiles and your questions, sent him careening into you until he’d no choice but to take you for himself. 

You smile that sly smile again now, but there are tears in your eyes when you stick out your hand for him to shake. “No hard feelings?”

A bilious, sick feeling forces its way up his throat. “None. Never.”

He feels the warm air between your fingers as your hands fall away from each other, as though they still touched. Anticipation. Then loss. 

And then nothing, your hand falling away. Something inside Joel screams.

The nurses sit you across from one another, explaining that you’ll take two pills and then have to sit and rest for observation for an hour before you’ll be permitted to leave. In the interim, a series of questions will be asked to ascertain that you’re of sound mind and health for release. A follow up visit will be scheduled at four and twelve weeks to record progress.

They advise that the effects should be instantaneous. An immediate cure of all loneliness. Grief wiped away for a clean slate.

You nod your head serenely up at the nurse as she explains to you, and Joel feels himself harden at the sight of you—your hair, your face, the slope of your shoulders, the thought of your marked gland at the back of your neck. He runs the risk of losing this—of never feeling the lust he’d just gotten back. Never feeling that burst of warmth in his chest you’d forced to live within him once more. 

His own nurse comes to perform the same speech, and places two, perfectly round blue pills in his palm. Across the aisle, you hold your own palm up and waiting, imitating his movements, letting him choose for the both of you. 

Don’t give up on me, please, he almost shouts at you. Don’t forget me.

In front of him, the nurse looks down at him very curiously. “Get busy fixing your heart or die trying, Joel Miller.”

He takes the pills into his mouth and tears prick his eyes. He’ll never cry again after this. 

Still before him, you watch as he swallows. 

Only getting up to go once he has. Your own cure untasted.

Epilogue;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[hummingbird24220]

Not super Nsfw but reader being really comfortable with nudity so they go skinny dipping and Sanji is a horn dog about it as well as the other straw hats enjoying the view

(I'm trying to give nsfw requests but I need more guidance about what's allowed pls!)

Heellooo, i love nakey reader. yes yes yes.

Also NSFW - ANYTHING goes aside from non-consentual. I have a nun piece ill post so people can get the vibe. Literally, i will write anything.

Enjoy!

Beach Brains

Various!OnePiece x Reader

Slight NSFW - Naked reader - Boobs mentioned ooOooo

---

The sun was relentless, high in the sky and blazing down on the Straw Hat Pirates as they anchored off a quiet, deserted island. The crew had been sailing for days, and when Nami spotted the lush green trees and glistening waters, she didn’t need to say anything—Luffy shouted “ISLAND!” and that was all the decision-making necessary.

Everyone dispersed the moment the Sunny touched land. Some went off to gather fruit, others to nap in the shade. You?

You went straight for the water.

Without hesitation.

And without clothes.

“Y/N… ARE YOU—?!” Usopp nearly choked on his spit as you tugged your shirt over your head and kicked off your shoes like you were just shedding sand, not every article of clothing.

“Oh,” you said casually, stepping out of your pants, “It’s too hot for all this. You guys should try it.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You ran, full tilt, into the crystalline ocean and dove in, resurfacing with a pleased sigh and your hair slicked back like some sun-kissed sea nymph. Water glistened on your bare skin as you stretched, completely unbothered by the dozen eyes glued to you from the shore.

“…N-Naked,” Sanji whispered, already nosebleeding from the shadows of the palm trees.

“Wow,” Luffy blinked, “Y/N’s really shiny.”

“Why are you all acting like you’ve never seen a body before?” you called from the water, flipping onto your back, arms lazily sculling the waves. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just skin.”

“It’s your skin!” Sanji wailed, dramatically collapsing into a kneel in the sand. “A vision! A blessing! My pure chef’s heart cannot handle such divine beauty without seasoning—!”

“Calm down, Ero-cook,” Zoro muttered, one eye opening from where he was resting against a rock. He did glance your way, though. For several seconds too long.

Nami snorted from beside Robin. “I mean, they’ve got a point. It’s hot as hell. And Y/N looks like they’re living their best life.”

“Indeed,” Robin added with a serene smile, resting her chin in her hand as she watched you glide through the water like you belonged to it. “They’re quite comfortable in their skin. Admirable.”

Brook practically had hearts in his empty eye sockets. “May I see your—?”

“NO!” the crew yelled in unison.

Meanwhile, Franky and Chopper had wandered back from foraging and both immediately froze at the sight of you.

“SUPERRRRRRR—!!!” Franky yelled, striking a pose that conveniently blocked Chopper’s eyes.

You popped up again, grinning as you waved. “Water’s amazing! Come on in! Clothes optional!”

Sanji was already halfway to stripping when Zoro bodily tackled him into the sand.

“This,” Zoro growled, “is how people get arrested.”

“There’s no laws on this island!” Sanji shouted back, muffled by sand and humiliation.

From the water, you just laughed and floated lazily, sun warming your face, blissfully unbothered by the chaos you'd stirred behind you.

You’d stayed in the water for a while, letting the sun and salt wrap around you like a second skin. Floating, drifting, dipping beneath the surface and emerging like something out of a painter’s daydream. You didn’t even notice the effect it was having on the crew—or, rather, you did.

You just didn’t care.

Eventually, you wandered back toward shore, water droplets cascading down your skin, hair clinging wet and wild around your face. You walked up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sanji was sitting with a towel draped over his lap and his face flushed so red he looked ready to combust.

“Ah—! Y/N-swan, p-please! Let me—! At least let me offer you this towel! No—wait—maybe a robe? A curtain? My jacket? My life?!”

You plucked the towel from his trembling hands and wiped your face. “Thanks, Sanji.”

He passed out on the spot.

“Idiot,” Zoro muttered, still watching from beneath the brim of his bandana. His eyes definitely weren't glued to the way water dripped down your spine as you turned.

“Want me to wring my hair out next to you?” you teased.

Zoro blinked. “...I didn’t say anything.”

You smirked.

Nami, fanning herself with a palm leaf, rolled her eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Just being comfortable,” you said with a shrug, tossing the towel over your shoulder and letting the breeze cool your bare skin. “You all can wear clothes if you want. I’m not stopping you.”

Robin giggled softly behind a book she hadn’t turned a page in for ten minutes. “You’re causing more tension than a government bounty.”

Chopper was still hiding behind Franky’s arm, though every now and then he peeked and immediately shrieked, “I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to look!!”

Usopp had climbed a tree “for lookout duty” and somehow managed to get stuck when his foot wedged into a knot in the trunk—completely coincidental that it gave him a bird’s eye view of you sunbathing on a towel with absolutely nothing on.

Luffy, sitting on a rock and chewing a mango pit, tilted his head. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah, Captain?”

“Why don’t more people just go around like that?”

You stretched, arms over your head, not even blinking. “Dunno. Shame, maybe. Fear. But bodies are just bodies. I don’t have time to be embarrassed about something I was born with.”

Luffy grinned wide. “That’s awesome.”

Sanji, from the ground, mumbled, “I’m in heaven… or hell… definitely dying…”

“Pervert,” Nami muttered, throwing a mango at him.

But you? You just lay back on your towel, soaking in the sun, skin bare and golden, the breeze your only outfit.

And every single Straw Hat had to deal with the fact that you were either going to drive them to madness... or enlightenment.

The sun was dipping low, casting gold over the ocean like it was being poured straight from the sky. The water lapped gently at the shore, peaceful and warm, and the crew had finally stopped pretending they weren’t watching you. Most had just given up.

Nami was tanning. Robin was sipping something suspicious. Zoro had fallen asleep again, arms crossed over his chest like a cryptid. Usopp was pretending to clean his slingshot for the fifth time that hour. And Sanji? Sanji had reached a spiritual plane of nosebleeds and emotional instability.

And there you were—still naked, chest-deep in the surf, laughing your ass off as Luffy waded in up to his knees.

He couldn’t go further. Devil Fruit. Sea = death. But that didn’t stop him from participating in your latest stroke of brilliance.

“Okay, hold still!” Luffy shouted, holding up two seashells—each larger than his hand.

“Luffy, what are you doing?” you said through a giggle, already knowing full well what he was doing.

“You need a costume! It’s like camouflage!” He slapped the shells onto your chest with a sound that could only be described as wet clack.

“They’re not even symmetrical,” you pointed out, raising a brow.

“Yeah, but it’s funny!” he snorted, sticking a tongue out.

“Great,” you grinned, “now I’m mermaid-core.”

Sanji, from the sand, looked like he was about to die. “SHELLS?! SHELLS?!? ON HER DIVINE BODY?! WHO ALLOWED THIS?!”

“Don’t forget the seaweed!” Luffy added, holding up a long, slimy strand with all the grace of a drunk octopus.

“Oh my god,” you said, but you turned around anyway, letting him drape it across your ass like a seaweed sarong. “Am I beautiful yet, Captain?”

“You’re the hottest sea monster I’ve ever seen!” Luffy laughed so hard he almost fell into the water—and had to flail backward onto the beach.

Sanji, on the other hand, was crawling in the sand like he’d just seen the face of a god. “Please… please let me be the seaweed…”

“Back off, perv!” you called, striking a ridiculous pose. “This is haute couture. Luffy and I are revolutionizing fashion!”

“I call it Boob Armor Deluxe,” Luffy shouted proudly.

“Trademarked.”

“I’m putting this in the logbook,” Usopp said, deadpan, “as the moment the crew finally broke.”

Franky had already put on goggles and was sketching blueprints for a new “Seashell Suit Mk. III.”

Robin, as always, was serene. “This is exactly what I expected to happen.”

Sanji staggered to his feet, arms raised to the sky. “I don’t know whether to cry or thank the heavens. But I will paint this from memory.”

“Better memory than your cooking,” Zoro muttered, still half-asleep.

You splashed toward the shore, still wrapped in your seaweed fashion disaster, laughing until your stomach hurt. You flopped down next to Luffy, both of you soaked and glowing in the dying light.

“You know,” you said, grinning at him as he picked a crab out of your hair, “we’d make terrible mermaids.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “but we make awesome pirates.”

[monster-disaster]

[demon & half-orc] Reg & Riel

demon!Reg x human!Reader x half-orc!Riel Good to know: threesome, public sex, gruppen

Summary: After Rust, your night continues with other patrons.

The bar is loud and busy. The air is heavy and thick with the smell of alcohol and other things. Puffs of gray smoke swirl under the dim lights of the ceiling. The tables are full, and the sound of bottles and glasses clinking together is sharp above the other noises. Monsters and humans enjoy the night while the outside world hides in the milky fog that settles over Grimbrook.

A thin layer of sweat shines on your heated skin. The wooden table is cold under your upper body. Your nipples are hard peaks against the surface. Your warm palms are flat next to you. Your breathing is uneven and heavy. Your muscles still jerk and tremble because of your previous orgasm. Your arousal is a mess between your thighs.

Your eyes are half-closed as your gaze wanders up on the demon's body in front of you. His cock bobs against your lips, erect. The muscles on his stomach are sharp and hard. His full lips pull into a smirk, letting you see his sharp teeth. For a second, you start to wonder if you would let him eat you out. "Open up," he commands, and you obey immediately. Your mouth falls open, and his erection pushes into your warm channel without a second thought. Your jaw hurts as you try to accommodate his length some more. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes as you gag around him. "Fuck!" The demon grunts at the sound. The vibration of your throat goes straight to his balls between his muscular thighs. "Better than I remembered." Now, that he says it, you didn't see Reg in the bar for a long while. This is the first night you meet after weeks.

While you are busy with the demon's cock in your mouth, Riel, the half-orc, is behind you, groping the flesh of your cheeks. His fingers dig into your skin, opening you up in front of his hungry eyes. His thumb ghosts over the wet slit of your pussy, flicking your clit in the process.

"Fuck! Rust!" Eva's voice pierces through the air, drawing your attention to their pair at the table next to you. The female vampire sits on the table, legs wide open and bare, while the goblin kneels in front of him, eating her out. The other patrons all around the bar are busy, too, fucking or watching and masturbating. The smell of body heat and arousal fills your senses.

"Come back," Reg grunts, grabbing a good chunk of your hair to pull you back onto his cock. His hold is firm and doesn't give you any chance to argue. The demon pushes your face down on his length while a sharp sting of pain wrecks your body, rushing from your bottom to all over you. Riel slaps your ass several times, not caring about your muffled gags and screams around Reg's cock. He enjoys watching your flesh jiggle under his large palms. He can feel the heat of his smacks under his touch. Rust's seed is still on your skin, decorating your ass cheeks and waist. Your inner thighs are a shiny mess because of your previous climax.

"Fuck!" The demon grunts again, using your throat. He fucks into your skull, gripping you by your hair. Every now and again, he stills until your lungs start to burn for air, and your head gets dizzy before he pulls out and starts thrusting again. "One day, I will fuck this hole, too," Riel says behind you, letting his thumb graze the small hole between your cheeks. "But for today…" He pushes into your slick center easily. You are still stretched after Rust used your hole to warm his cock. "Don't stop! Don't dare to stop!" Eva's voice rings in your ears as you squirm on the top of the table. Pleasure flares in your veins, burning you until a scream catches in your throat. Your tongue is flat against the underside of Reg's length, letting your teeth scrape the sensitive skin under the bulbous head. Tears run down your face, and your saliva dripples down your chin, mixing with his salty pre-cum.

Riel behind you is fast and powerful. He pounds into your used hole like there is no tomorrow. The slapping of your skin as he fucks into you can be barely heard under the sounds of the others. Moans and groans fill the bar, and growls echo off the walls. "Fuck this pussy," the half-orc grunts. "So good. So tight."

You can feel your orgasm building up inside you. Your stomach turns with excitement, and your heart thunders against your ribs. Your breathing is ragged and heavy. Your eyes fall shut at the force pushing you higher and higher. Your head starts to spin when Riel smacks your ass again before gripping your hips to chase his own pleasure. The slight pain releases something inside you again, like Eva's bite on your bottom lip not long ago. Your body shakes as you reach your climax.

Your hole pulses around Riel's length, sucking him deeper into your pussy. Fire trails down your body as your muscles tense and twitch without your control. For long seconds, you don't even notice the real world. The only thing that brings you back is the emptiness of your holes. Reg's warm cum paints your face while Riel smears his seed on your bottom. It drips down on your skin, marking you in their musky scent. Their groans mix into a deep rumble, shaking your core.

You are still on the table, lying on your stomach as you watch Eva shaking on Rust's mouth.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

[tinyluvs]

❥ summary; swiss? collared. aurora? ass eaten. hotel? trivago ❥ warnings; collar & a leash on swiss, aurora calls him princess and swiss likes it. all of the other fun stuff, i forgot how to tag ❥ authors note; had a breakdown, made this, bon appetite :))) ❥ wc; 1.5k ₊˚⊹♡⁺‧₊˚𖤐 read on ao3; ˗ˏˋ ꒰꒰ here !! ꒱꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𖤐˚₊.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

soft leather hugs swiss' neck, pulled tight by aurora tugging on the matching leash. the prettiest pink she's ever seen, made so much prettier by the gold sparkles imbedded deep in the fabric and it looks gorgeous against swiss' skin

aurora presses her chest against the wall and arches her back until her ass is jutting out behind her, peeking out from under her skirt, giving swiss an eyeful from where he's sat patiently on his knees, waiting

her tightest hole clenches as she moves, shiny and already wet with her own sweet slick. swiss needs to get his tongue on her as fast as he can but all he can do is lick his lips and wait for her to let him

with the leash wrapped tight around her fist, aurora pulls and guides swiss’ head up until his chin is resting on the swell of her ass. large golden eyes look up at her, far softer than she’s used to seeing, “are you going to be a good boy?” aurora purrs

swiss whines softly and attempts to nod his head against the strain of his collar, jostling just so and sending the little golden tag colliding with the metal clip on the leash

on one side of the tag is aurora’s name, engraved in her own handwriting, and the other says, princess. aurora’s favourite nickname for him, “words,” aurora pauses, reaching down to toy gently with the tag, “princess,”

“i’ll be good,” swiss rasps, his voice rough from the pressure on his neck. aurora’s eyebrows raise, unimpressed by his response but luckily swiss is smart enough to realise that, “i promise, i-i’ll be good, please,”

in aurora's opinion, it's laughable how fast swiss submits to her. he's naturally cheeky, overly flirty, so much bigger than her but a simple bat of her lashes, a pretty skirt, an even prettier collar and he's practically eating out of the palm of her hand

he's trained well enough to know she hasn't explicitly told him to do anything yet, so, he kills time dragging and pressing his lips over the sweet little dimples littering the surface of her ass cheeks

the tips of his fingers walk up the back of her legs, up and over her calf, the dip in the back of her knee and further upwards until he's ghosting his touch right over the backs of her thighs

"i need you," swiss mumbles with his lips still pressing against her. he shifts his weight, vulnerable under aurora's gaze and his cock twitches against his stomach, smearing pre through the dusting of hairs below his navel

aurora can't help but look, her eyes shift downwards to ogle his fat cock. the head is shiny and small beads of pre drip down his length, soaking his balls before dripping into a small puddle on the floor and it makes aurora whimper

slick pours from her hole as she keeps her movements languid, passing the leash down between her parted thighs and pulling swiss closer, leaving the tip of his nose ghosting over the dip between her soft ass cheeks

"show me," aurora whispers, bending further forwards until her back aches beautifully and her holes are presented for swiss and swiss only, "show me how much you need it," she whines

swiss echos her whine with his own as she guides him closer. his lips press to her dripping pussy in a lewd kiss and he can’t help but bask in it, letting her slick coat his nose, lips and chin

he presses his thumbs into the underneath of her ass cheeks and then gently drags them outwards, spreading her open with a small wet pop. her cunt glistens and her clit visibly throbs but as tempting as she looks, swiss wants something else

"can i, y-your ass?" swiss asks, giving a slow, tentative lick over her rim, dragging slick and spit over her hole. aurora gasps and clenches tight but she pushes back against his tongue, urging him to keep going

“yes, fuck, yes,” aurora yelps and then trails off into a moan as swiss leans all the way into her and starts lapping at her hole. the tip of his tongue catches on her cunt with every long lick, dragging slick upwards from her pussy

she tastes good, addictive, swiss could lose himself in her for the rest of his life. her taste, her scent, the sound of her little whimpers interrupting short panted breaths, he couldn’t ever get enough but he can try

swiss circles the tip of his tongue around her wet rim, teasingly slow. he makes sure she can feel all of it, every twitch of every muscle in his tongue as he maps out her body, managing to ignore her quivering hole with every circle

“let me fuck it,” swiss murmurs against her, turning his head to drag his fangs over her ass, not hard enough to break skin but enough to make her gasp and yank on his leash, forcing a tiny choked moan to escape his throat

aurora rearranges the leash until the delicate stitching along the sides of the leather presses to her clit, “ask me, nicely,” she orders, rolling her hips a little to grind forwards over the leather and then back against swiss’ tongue, “ask,”

“please, can i fuck it?” swiss asks immediately, digging the tips of his fingers into aurora’s ass hard enough to leave bruises, “i promise it’ll feel good, please, you taste so fucking good,”

he doesn’t get much of a response but aurora holding his leash tight enough for her to sit back on his tongue is enough, swiss doesn’t wait a second longer before teasing his tongue at her puckered hole

“y-yeah, fuck it, put it, oh, put it in,” aurora cries while swiss begins to press his tongue against her tight ring. they know each other too well, have played these games too many times so as aurora sucks in a breath and relaxes her body on the slow exhale, swiss licks into her

aurora’s free hand reaches back, fingers tangling into swiss’ hair as he works her open. there’s a slight stretch but it doesn’t hurt, it never does with swiss, aurora only ever feels, good

gently, swiss pulls back until his tongue is slipping free from her body but before she can whine, or complain, he’s spitting over her hole and diving back in, eliciting a sudden cry from aurora while her thighs start to tremble

swiss tries to focus but it’s hard with his tongue fucking into her slowly, with her fingers pulling at the roots of his hair, with the collar tightening around his neck with every pull and with his cock throbbing and pulsing against his stomach

he doesn’t have to look to know his cock is red, purple even, as it goes forgotten about but he can feel the thick streams of pre running down his length and over his fat sack with every buck of his hips, he knows he’s making a mess but he doesn’t care

aurora starts to cry out with every thrust of his tongue, it’s a lot to handle, he’s inside of her. it doesn’t matter how many times she lets him do this, it’s always a lot. her legs shake and every grind of her hips seems to drive swiss deeper

“p-princess,” aurora whimpers and swiss whines, pitchy, high and scratching out of his throat, “feels good, s’gonna make me cum,” she slurs her words slightly as the leash rubs against her clit just right, finally at the perfect angle

“uh huh,” swiss hums, muffled by her ass pressing against his face but she gets the message. her hips jerk in frantic humps, closer to fucking herself on his tongue rather than him doing any of the work and swiss lets her

he sits back on his heels and tickles his fingers up the backs of her thighs. the sensation makes her jump slightly, her rhythm faltering for just a second before she’s found it again, bringing herself closer and closer to her orgasm

“i’m gonna, gonna,” aurora pants, shakily, as her rim starts to tighten and pulse around his tongue. swiss waits for the rest of her sentence to come, sliding his hands over the bottom of her back while her body begins to shake, “c-cum-ing” she hiccups

her body tenses as her orgasm takes over, her hole constricts and pushes swiss’ tongue out. his leash goes slack as she loses her grip on it, so he sits back and watches. one hand smoothes over her spine while the other flies down to his cock

“oh fuck,” swiss grunts as his orgasm hits before he’s even got his fist around himself. his cum splashes over aurora’s ankle, making her jump and alerting her to the fact he didn’t wait for her to tell him he could cum

aurora turns around and slowly slides down the wall until she’s sitting with her trembling thighs spread “i thought you were going to be a good boy,” she pouts and swiss’ eyes snap open, his gaze dropping down to her cunt immediately

she circles her fingertips around her sensitive, twitching, clit before slipping them downwards to spread her dripping hole wide, making swiss whimper when the slick that was pooling just inside of her starts to drip

“sit there and beg for it, like a good boy and then maybe i’ll consider letting you fuck me,” she explains with a sweet smile

swiss swallows thickly and then, starts to beg, like a good boy

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! & comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah! send prompts to my ask box!

𖤐 ghouls masterlist

[sinnaminsuga]

a matter of time - mob boss!chan x reader

wc: 3,519

cw: some threats of violence, a little angsty but happy ending, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you loved him, more than anything. but being a secret was never what you wanted. the gilded cage you seemed to exist exclusively in was suffocating you, so you decided it was time to get out. but chan wont let you go that easily.

a/n: i was driving and clearly i was not paying attention because thats when this idea was born. as usual this was beta'd by bestie @httpdwaekki and she sourced the pretty pictures for me too. enjoy!

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), breeding kink if you squint, general roughness, threats of violence (not toward the reader), chan has a gun. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

the creak of the church doors flying open should have startled you like it did everyone else, but you knew better. it was only a matter of time before he came for you. he didn't like his things to go missing. truthfully, you were shocked it even took this long. 

the click of his (no doubt expensive) shoes on the shiny wooden floor of the church hung in the air like the ticking of a clock, counting down to either your demise or your bliss you weren't sure which one. after a long pause you turned your head just enough to face him. 

“can we help you?” you asked, more nonchalant than anyone else would have been in a situation like this. the muffled gasps and muttering from the crowd in front of you almost made you laugh but you held it in. 

the charged energy in the room was due to the fact that the man interrupting your wedding was none other than the most fearsome businessman and gangster this city had ever seen. but to you? he was your asshole ex boyfriend. 

“oh can you help me? that's what you're going to say? isn't this a little much, yeobo?” he replied, voice dripping with condescension and his hand over his heart in mock surprise. 

“a little much? god you're so out of touch it's actually insane christopher. news flash, you're not the groom, you're not even supposed to be here!” you seethed, fully turning to face him. your groom (hand selected by your parents) stood next to you shaking like a leaf. you could feel the nervous sweat from his hand slicking the surface of your palm and it made your skin crawl so you dropped his hold as you stared fiercely down the aisle. 

chan's face split into the wide grin you’d once been accustomed to seeing. “are you done now? you've gotten your attention and you've pissed me off, the job is done. let's go.” he said, walking further down the aisle toward you. 

“jesus christ, you really are insane! i should have listened when people told me you were a full on fucking basket case but no. i was stupid enough to fall in love with you. fat lot of good that did for me!” you shouted at his approaching form. 

you could feel your skin heating up and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears you were so mad. who the hell did he think he was, intruding on your life like this?! it's his fault you were in this situation anyway!

***

you had been with chan for 3 years, and in that time he made it a point to keep your relationship a secret. it hurt seeing his face splashed on newspapers and tabloids all over the city speculating on who he might be dating or who he’d been seen with recently. it hurt even more when he recapped nights where he was out to dinner with his men or allies and their wives. you couldn't help but feel like it was because you weren't enough. you felt like you weren't pretty enough, weren't tough enough, weren't worthy to be seen outside his penthouse apartment. and a girl can only take so much of that for so long. 

so a few months ago on a particularly lonely night of chan being out doing god knows what with lord knows who, you packed only your sentimental personal belongings (nothing he purchased for you, which was a hell of a lot of your things), wrote a note saying nothing more than “no one took me, not that you'd care even if they did. i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer. goodbye.” and walked out his door for the last time. 

the fancy things he could provide for you behind closed doors weren't enough to soothe the searing pain in your soul of feeling like the man you loved was ashamed of you. three years together and not even a hint at things changing any time soon was enough to make you return home to your parents and agree to the arranged marriage they had been working on as they had no knowledge of the relationship you were already in. and who knows, maybe you could learn to love your soon-to-be husband Seo-jun.

***

you grabbed the skirt of your simple wedding dress and stomped down the few stairs of the platform, heading toward chan. when you finally stood in front of him you could see the darkness under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping. his hair was gorgeous as usual but a little longer than he was used to wearing it. and his knuckles were raw and bruised. you almost felt bad for him but then, you remembered he made the bed he was lying in so why should you care about how uncomfortable it might be?

“why are you so upset with me yeobo? hmm? what did i do that was so bad you had to leave me in the middle of the night? i took care of you didn't i? anything you asked for, i gave it to you.” chan asked, grabbing your hand. something dark flashed in his eyes and his upper lip curled when his fingers felt Seo-jun's ring on your finger. “what made you hate me so much that you ran off to be with this fucking nobody?”

“you just don't get it. and you never did. that's part of the problem chris. you don't see me. you don't know me. no one did.” you murmured, taking your hand back and smoothing the fabric of your dress, eyes cast down. “with Seo-jun we can walk down the street holding hands and he doesn't think twice about it. we can have dinner in a restaurant, one that has other people in it. not one that's been emptied out and all the blinds closed and the staff paid to keep their mouths shut.” you inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “i couldn't do that with you. and the worst part is, i don't think you even wanted to. you were happy to exclude me from things. happy to hide me. but i don't want that. i never did. and if you had no intentions of marrying me, it was my responsibility to myself to find someone who would.” you dabbed your fingers under your eyes and sniffled before straightening your back and meeting his eyes. you weren't prepared to see the agony in his face. 

“i- i don't...i didn't know...i didn't know that is how you saw it all, how you saw me. i'm so sorry sweetheart. i wish you had talked to me.” chan breathed. he reached out his right hand and set it on your shoulder, rubbing soothing little circles with his thumb. after a moment he slid it up to cradle the back of your neck and tug you closer to him. 

“i should have explained. i should have been more perceptive. i never wanted you to feel this way, i swear i didnt.” chan’s voice shook as he spoke to you. 

“well it's too late now. please just go. please.” you whispered, trying to back away from him. you couldn't talk about this anymore. but in your attempt to move away from him, his grip on you tightened. he pulled you toward him forcefully enough that you were now chest to chest. 

“you think that i will ever let you go again? i stayed away when you left, i thought maybe you needed time to be angry at me for whatever it was and then you'd come back when you were ready. but then i saw your face in the newspaper, the wedding announcement section no less. and i laughed. i laughed because surely that couldn't be true.” a bitter laugh rattled out of chan's mouth, flames of wild jealousy flickering in his eyes. 

“as long as there is air in my lungs and my heart is beating in my chest, you will never belong to another man. ever. do you understand me?” he growled. 

“i told you in my note and i'll tell you again now to your face, i wont be in a cage anymore. i cant do that to myself chris. i won’t. besides, you never would have married me. you just want to possess me, but you don't want anyone to know that you do.” you said softly, tears finally slipping down your cheeks unrestrained. 

“why do you keep saying that? why do you think i'm ashamed of you?” he pleaded, his brows drawing together in confusion.  

“what else am i left to think when you keep me hidden away in your penthouse? i'm not invited to dinners. i'm not invited to parties. no one you know, knows i exist! that's why every person in this room is so shocked to see you here! no one had any idea we were together, because that's what you wanted. i was a toy for you and now that someone else has me you're upset. don't you understand how painful that is for me?!” you wailed, not wanting to keep talking about it. you pleaded with your eyes for him to stop this torture but he was having none of it. 

“are you insane? you think i wanted to keep us a secret? i wanted to tip toe around with you? no! but i had to! i know you think you know what i do but you have no idea the dangers that come with it. you are my most prized possession and the very knowledge of that is ammunition for some people in my world.” chan cried. “i would have loved nothing more than to scream it from the rooftops how much i fucking love you but i knew that would put you in danger and if anything ever happened to you i would have burned the world to ash. but the idea of your safety is out the window now, you forced my hand with this wedding bullshit and now it's all out in the open. everybody fucking knows now!” he bellowed. 

realization washed over you like a bucket of ice water. he was right. you never considered that you might be in harms way if his enemies knew of your existence. 

“i couldn't fucking marry you because then our marriage would be public record. anyone digging into me would find you that way. i wasn't willing to lay your life on the fucking line like that. is a wedding what you want? you wanna marry me?” chan asked, a mischievous air suddenly surrounding him. your subconscious overrode any sort of common sense and forced you to nod yes like some kind of sick twisted muscle memory. 

the next thing you knew he was pulling you back down the aisle toward the small raised platform, the audience whispering behind you. as he approached your groom you held your breath, worried about what he would say. 

“seo-jun is it?” he asked and seo-jun nodded. the fear was coming off of him in waves, why your parents paired you with this man you would never understand. you were far too argumentative to be with a weak man. “okay, so seo-jun what's going to happen now is i'm going to marry your fiance okay? get out of my way please, i'll only ask the one time so remember that.” chan said, his voice sickly sweet with a hint of ominous threat. seo-jun just nodded and ran off to cower behind his parents in the first row of seats. chan turned to face the officiant before speaking again. “alright let's start.”

the officiant gulped before he spoke with a shaky voice, “sir i can't marry you two. you don't even have a marriage license with the correct names on it.” this was obviously the incorrect response because chan reached into his coat and pulled out his gun, pressing it to the underside of the officiant's jaw. the rabid look in his eyes was one you were familiar with, he was incredibly worked up now. 

“i don't recall asking for your sage advice, did anyone hear me ask for his advice?” he addressed the audience with his question. the crowd murmured a chorus of no’s and chan turned back to the man at gunpoint. “open your stupid fucking book and marry us or i'll blow your fucking brains out, got it? okay, good.” the officiant nodded frantically as chan pulled the gun away, tucking it back into the holster you knew he wore on his side. 

you were very much in shock, and oddly enough very much turned on by his public display of aggression. you were finally getting what you always dreamed of with chan but you weren't totally happy. you didn't get to plan the wedding of your dreams with him, and this small event just didnt feel right. 

“chris we can't do this. not like this. i want to plan something real, something with you. can we do that? please?” you asked, tugging on his hands. 

“oh. of course we can do that sweetheart. but can we do this too? just like a practice? we’re already here and you look so pretty.” he said with his lopsided grin you could never say no to. so you giggled and nodded, and proceeded with the ceremony. 

after the exchanging of vows, a cutting look at seo-jun from chan about the wedding band he’d chosen for you, and some muttering from chan about ‘none of this is good enough' the officiant pronounced you man and wife. the crowd reaction was mild as they were all still so confused and terrified, but you didn't care. you were floating. and soon as he heard the words “you may now kiss your bride” chan tugged you to him and planted his lips on yours. he swept his tongue into your mouth and you whined into the kiss. god you'd missed this, no one kissed you like chan did. he broke away for a moment just to stare at you. 

“everybody get the fuck out.” every person in the church fled at chan's command, some squealing as they left. the two men he arrived with left as well, closing the doors behind them. you looked around confused, not sure why he would do that as you hadn't gotten your chance to walk down the aisle hand in hand. “channie what are you doing?” you asked. 

a wicked smile appeared on his face as he replied “my wife and i need to consummate this marriage, i didn't want them here for that.” heat settled low in your belly at his words and you felt your face flush. surely he couldn't be serious! but evidently he was as he pulled you further across the platform to the altar. 

he lifted you and set you down on top of the altar and pushed your legs apart to slot himself in between, yanking your dress up your legs to pool around your hips. chan planted open mouthed kisses across your exposed collarbone, one hand kneading your breast, the other reaching between you to grind against your clit. you threw your head back at the sudden pleasure. 

“you let him in here? you let seo-jun touch you like i do?” he grunted against your mouth. 

“nuh-uh. told him i wanted to wait. wasn't ready to give myself to another man.” you said, choking down a moan. 

“good. he seems nice, i really didn't want to have to kill him.” chan laughed out into your neck. you pawed at his chest in an attempt to open his shirt but the buttons proved to be too difficult for your lust addled brain so you tore it open instead. and what you saw made you stop short. 

right over his heart swooped dark black strokes of ink in your handwriting, the tattoo reading “i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer.” it took your breath away and tears welled in your eyes. the weight of everything that had transpired hung heavy in the air between you and chan knew that so instead of speaking right away he leaned in, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you with the most passion he could. so many words unspoken poured out of your mouths and into that kiss.

“here's what's going to happen now sweetheart. i'm gonna flip you around, bend you over, and fuck you until you see stars okay? it's been too long.” he explained as he maneuvered your body to the position he was describing. his big hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you submitted to him like you always did, leaning forward until your cheek was pressed to the marble of the altar. 

the jingling of his belt behind you made you clench around nothing, the ache of being empty taking over. chan bunched your skirt up once again before savagely tearing your panties from your body. two of his big fingers slid through your wetness before sinking into you, punching a moan from your chest. 

“gonna make it hurt baby, stretch you out jus’ the way you like okay? daddy’s gonna take such good care of you. always remember i love you okay sweetheart? because im going to fuck you like i really really don't.” he whispered into your ear, planting a kiss on the side of your head. then he was lining up with your entrance and sliding all the way in without stopping. 

and he was right, the stretch hurt but really it always did. he was just so big, but you liked the burn. you liked still feeling him the next day. you could feel your eyelids drooping and your body relaxing as he started to move. 

“fucking hell sweetheart. a few months away from me and i have to retrain this pussy to take me. so fucking tight.” chan ground out as his powerful hips slammed him in and out of you over and over again. your cunt was drooling all over his cock, almost as much as your mouth was all over the altar. 

“still can't believe you ran from me. how about i put a baby in you, then you can't go anywhere. there's not a single place on this earth where i won't fucking find you, you got that?” he spat, lacing his hand into your hair and yanking your head up. all you could get out was a measly “uh-huh” but it seemed to be enough because he growled and started pistoning his thick length into you at a new angle, slamming the head into your g-spot. 

chan reached down and wrapped a big hand around the back of your left thigh, lifting your leg and laying it flat on the altar, opening you up more for him. he slid his fingertips down between your legs and rubbed at your clit. if you weren't already sweating and drooling, surely that would have been the thing to do it. 

“slutty little pussy missed me huh? she was all lonely and empty without daddy to take care of her. c’mon baby, keep squeezing me, yeah just like that pretty girl. so perfect.” he groaned as he did his best to bruise you from the inside. 

at this point you were as boneless as you'd ever been, you truly did miss getting dicked down like this. chan had always been the best fuck of your life and you hadn't realized how much you missed it until now. “please make me cum daddy. need it so bad.” you mumbled incoherently, eyes glazed over. 

chan laughed, a bitter sound tumbling from his lips. “those little fingers of yours couldn't even come close to treating you like my dick huh? bet you were riding that dildo i got you, wishing it was me.” he hissed out between his clenched teeth. all you could do was moan and nod because he was right. 

“go on then. cum for me pretty baby. do it for me, need to feel it. then i'll fill you up just like you like.” he said, throwing his head back as he thrust into you with the harshest force you'd ever experienced. a few more direct hits to your g-spot and it was over, you were screaming and spasming around him, trapping him inside you for a moment. 

“jesus fucking christ- oh god fuck that feels so good. keep squeezing me, yessss just like that baby yeah. fuck you're so beautiful like this. ah- ah- fuck fuck fuck 'm gonna cum. gonna cum in this perfect little cunt baby. FUCK!” chan gasped out, hips stilling as he spilled inside of you, warming you from the inside out. he collapsed over your back and breathed hard against your spine. 

after gathering his breath and his thoughts he leaned forward, licking up a rivulet of sweat rolling down the side of your neck before whispering into your ear “cmon mama, lets get you home. i have a lot of apologizing to do.”

THE END

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 25

Remy LeBeau + Boot Worship

Been busy these past couple of days, but finally had time to sit down and write. Been watching a lot of RDR2 videos, so,,, cowboy boots.

2024 kinktober masterlist.

Remy liked a lot of things, it was difficult to state all the things he liked. But one thing he liked, or rather loved, was you and of course, your boots. You had grown up around Texas, living and working somewhere where you needed sturdy boots, boots you still wore nowadays even if you didn’t need too at the X-mansion.

Your partner hadn’t been too open about his almost obsession with your boots, how you always cared for them to make them last longer because they were really expensive, or how they seemed to have shaped themselves to your feet after wearing them for so long.

And maybe Remy offered to polish your boots for you and do all the upkeep when you were busy because it got him hot. He also did it because he loved you, obviously, but it helped that it always gave him something for his spankbank later.

Remy could never get himself to rut against your boots when he did the upkeep for you, even if he deeply wanted too. It felt a bit disrespectful, and it just wasn’t the same when you weren’t wearing them. The closest hed gotten, was letting his tongue rasp over the cleaned surface before he put them away again.

Of course, Remy was his own worst enemy when it came to many things, and once again when he outed his own attraction to something you wore. It wasn’t his fault that you had knocked him down as you sparred, and that you had decided to place your boot on his chest.

The look on your face and seeing you towering over him, had the blood rushing so fast Remy almost got dizzy, making him seem faint enough that you stepped back with a worried expression, asking if he was alright. Remy, bright red in the face and hard enough to hammer nails just stumble out a couple of words, trying to reassure you he was fine.

Seeing how incredibly hard he was, made things start to connect inside your head. Suddenly his lingering glances and jokes about wanting to see you in your boots and nothing else made sense, and who were you to turn your lover away.

Remy was sure he had to have been dreaming when you told him to meet you in your shared room, and he walked in on you fully dressed, boots polished and care for to the nines, almost calling for him like a siren would its victims.

Remy was so quick to wrestle his clothes off when you told him too, throwing it all on the floor as he scrambled to his knees in front of you. You could see how flushed his dick was, and how wet it had gotten already just from kneeling there in front of you like this.

Your lover moaned as you lifted your foot, placing your boot against his chest which trembled under it as Remy tried to take a deep breath. Words weren’t even needed, all you needed was to scoot the boot upwards until the polished leather tapped against his chin.

Like a dog with a treat, Remy descended upon your boot with a hunger you only saw on occasion. The thick leather made it impossible for you to really feel his tongue, other than the weight of it swiping across the boot.

At some point your boot ended back up on the floor, Remy pressing his chest against the floor to keep licking and kissing at it, his hips lifted in the air and almost wagging from his excitement. You couldn’t feel it, but you could hear how wet the boots were getting from the wet slick noises of Remy’s tongue against the leather, his moans shaky and breathless.

Remy truly was a kind considerate partner, switching from boot to boot to make sure they both got the same attention and worship, coating the loved leather in a layer of shiny spit. He didn’t even feel the need to touch himself, as finally getting to act out this fantasy that had lingered in the back of his mind for months was enough.

A shocked yelp sounded as Remy suddenly found himself knocked backwards, rolled onto his back as you placed your boots against his v-line, the heels just barely pressed against the root of his shaft. His wide eyes met yours, Remy’s hands clenched into fists by his sides, not sure on what you wanted him to do.

A soft huffed chuckle left you as you scooted your boots closer together, trapping his cock between them. It wasn’t enough to cut off the circulation or anything, but it was more than enough for Remy to feel the material press against both sides of his oozing hardness.

The small “go on” motion you gave with your chin was all he needed, Remy’s hands shakily grabbing onto your ankles through the leather of your boots, as his hips started rocking almost immediately. Had you known he could moan and whine like this, you would have gotten the boots involved before.

Yeah, you’d made him sound like this before, but never this easily, and if getting him to spill all over your boots was what it costed, then so be it. Plus, you were sure you could even get Remy to clean them afterwards, if you wanted.

Remy barely needed any stimulation, having been a sensitive oozing mess from the moment you let him lick your boots. Having the rough material pressed against his shaft, the feeling a mixture of unpleasant and pleasurable, was driving him wild. Something about being completely stripped down, where you were fully dressed and just watching him, made everything so hot inside.

You could tell from the noise Remy made as he came that his throat must have hurt, his eyes clenching shut as his entire face scrunched up, his hips pressed up hard enough to lift your feet as they pressed against him. Remy spilled far enough up his own torso that it struck his chin, making you whistle in admiration.

He slumped back down against the floor, his chest shuddering as Remy panted for his breath. It was easy to shake his grip off your ankles and kick your boots off, the boots making a loud thunk as you kicked them off. Remy was mostly limp as you picked him up off the floor, your partner murmuring in French as you pulled him up onto the bed.

Remy looked quite at peace as he splayed out, even if your boots had left some scratches against his hips from where you had dug them in. you’d look at that in the bit, right now you just laid back, resting Remy’s head on your chest for now. Maybe he could even help you a bit with your own hard problem.

[subtlenighttribute]

You Don’t Have to Earn Our Love

Selkie AU | Love and Deepspace Boys x Reader

Reader opens up about family trauma | Selkie boys comfort in instinctive, quiet ways

This request hit pretty close to home, so I hope this helps bring you happiness, even by a little.

---

It came out in pieces.

A quiet morning, sunlight filtering through sea mist, your mug warm in your hands but your chest aching. The boys were scattered—floating lazily in the shallows, piled in seal-fluff piles near the porch, dozing under a patch of sun.

You hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

“I always tried,” you murmured, voice too small for the breeze. “But they never really saw it. Never said thank you. Just pointed out what I forgot. What I messed up.”

You stared at your drink.

“And now it’s just… stuck in me. That feeling. That no matter what I do, it won’t be good enough.”

You hadn’t realized one of them had moved until you felt warm weight press against your side.

---

🐺 Sylus

Sylus didn’t make a sound.

He curled his large white seal body against your thigh, slowly—like a glacier shifting. Then he shoved his snout beneath your elbow until your hand rested on his head.

You didn’t pet him.

He nudged harder.

Until you did.

A slow, unsteady stroke through his fur. Again. Again.

He let out a quiet, sharp huff—like a steam valve—and lay still.

Protective. Heavy. Not saying a word. But if he could in this moment, in this form, he would say, “If they couldn’t see your worth, that’s their failure. I see you. I always see you.”

His heartbeat thudded steady against your hip.

---

🫧 Rafayel

Rafayel didn’t approach directly.

Instead, he swam in slow, looping circles near the shore. Just close enough for the sound of his water-slick movements to be heard. A rhythm. A pulse.

When you finally looked up, eyes stinging, he was floating on his back in full seal form, holding something in his flippers.

A shell.

Shiny. Pink-edged.

He wobbled toward you through the surf, tail flicking, and nudged it into your hand.

Then nudged your hand into your own chest.

Then flopped forward and leaned against your legs. His body language saying, “This is how I see you. Soft. Shiny. Precious. And I’d still love you even if you weren’t.”

He stayed there, curled like driftwood, eyes watching with open, unflinching care.

---

🪨 Zayne

You didn’t see Zayne arrive.

But suddenly, there was weight at your back.

A familiar seal—dark and broad—pressing firmly behind you like a mountain had laid itself down to keep the wind off your skin.

You leaned back automatically.

Zayne didn’t push. Didn’t nudge. Didn’t demand.

He just was there.

Unmoving.

Unjudging.

Like a stone that had heard all your words and decided—firmly—that you were enough anyway.

“You don’t need to earn a place here. You already belong.”

And when your shoulders started to shake?

He leaned his seal head against yours. Just once. Just enough.

---

☀️ Caleb

Caleb waddled over with maximum seal panic.

He had clearly overheard the tail end of your confession and was halfway crying already.

He flopped face-first into your lap, glebbed so loud it startled a seagull, and then promptly tried to wrap both flippers around your waist.

You blinked. “...Caleb?”

He squeaked louder. Nudged his head under your chin and refused to stop wiggling until your arms were around him too.

Then he lay there. Soft. Snuffly. Vibrating with seal emotion.

“You’re good. You’re good. You’re the best. Don’t say things like that or I’ll melt.”

He fell asleep there, breath puffing warm against your chest.

You didn’t move.

---

🌊 Xavier

Xavier didn’t come to you immediately.

You thought maybe he hadn’t heard.

But later, when you sat alone on the rocky edge of the cove, watching the tide roll in—he surfaced.

Dark seal eyes. Smooth creamy colored head. Silent.

He drifted just beneath the water’s surface for a long time.

Then slowly swam to shore and rested his head on your knee.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

You placed your hand on him without thinking.

He leaned into it.

Then, in the stillest, most careful way, he pressed his forehead to your shin.

A seal’s gesture of trust. Of vow.

“You are not your family’s echo. You are loved—without condition.”

He stayed there even as the sun set behind the horizon.

---

That Night…

You didn’t say much.

None of them forced you to talk again.

But you ended up surrounded—pressed in by warmth and soft breathing. One tucked against your side. One against your feet. One curled like a scarf around your neck. One nosing into your hands. One resting at your back like a shield.

They couldn’t fix the scars family left behind.

But they made it clear—you’d never be unseen again.

[anonymlexiuz]

╰┈➤ тємρтιηg нιм

DOTTORE X FEM READER ❗️❗️

⬆️ To listen while reading!!!

╭───────────────╮

Content Warnings

╰───────────────╯

♡ NSFW / 18+ ONLY

♡ Heavy Smut

♡ Dom/Sub Dynamics

♡ Rough sex, overstimulation

♡ Out of original oc

The lab was silent, save for the hum of machines and the distant moan of wind tearing across Snezhnaya’s frozen cliffs. Dottore stood at his workbench, bloodstained gloves discarded, long fingers smeared with ink. The moment he sensed you behind him, his head tilted slightly—just enough.

“Darling,” he said. “There you are.”

You stood there, trembling, dressed in nothing but his coat—oversized, unbuttoned, and doing nothing to hide the soft curve of your breasts or the slick shine glistening between your thighs.

He turned, blue eyes catching the faintest flicker of wetness on your inner thigh. His smirk was slow, dangerous.

“No panties,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Did you forget? Or did your dumb little cunt just want my cock that badly?”

His gloved hand came to your face, cradling your cheek with mock affection. Then, he grabbed your jaw, turning your head slightly to examine you like prey—or a puzzle he wanted to tear apart.

“On the table. Now.”

You obeyed, crawling up onto the metal slab. The cold surface made your nipples pebble, back arching just slightly as you spread your legs, your glistening pussy on full display.

He hissed through his teeth. “Fucking dripping. Look at this mess,” he muttered, running two fingers through your folds. “You’re soaking my floor, Darling. How fucking desperate can you be?”

No answer. Just a twitch of your thighs, a shaky inhale.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

And then he dropped to his knees.

His tongue hit you like fire. Wet, filthy slurps echoed in the sterile lab as he licked your cunt like a man possessed. His mouth moved messily—sucking, licking, fucking you with his tongue until your thighs trembled and your hips bucked involuntarily.

“Keep those legs open,” he snapped, smacking your thigh. “Or I’ll strap them down.”

Fingers joined his tongue—long and cruel, pumping into your sopping pussy with practiced brutality. Slick noises filled the air, each thrust sending more of your arousal dripping down his wrist.

He didn’t stop when your legs started shaking. He didn’t stop when your back arched. He just grinned, lips shiny with your slick.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “So fucking good for me.”

He stood, unfastening his belt with one hand, the other still lazily fucking you with two fingers.

“Let’s see how much more this tight little cunt can take.”

His cock slapped heavy against your inner thigh—thick, flushed, already leaking. He didn’t wait. Didn’t warn.

One hard thrust and he was buried to the hilt.

You jerked. Back arched. Eyes wide.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “This pussy’s always so fucking tight. You were made to take my cock, weren’t you?”

He set a pace that was brutal. Merciless. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the lab, your slick coating his length with each punishing thrust.

“Stupid little slut,” he snarled. “You get off on this, don’t you? Getting used like a fleshlight on my fucking workbench?”

Your moans were high-pitched, breathy, strangled.

“Gonna cum again?” he mocked, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. “Fucking do it. Cum all over my cock like the needy cumdump you are.”

You did. Hard.

And he didn’t stop.

“Too much?” he hissed, voice ragged. “Take it. Take all of it. I want your brain gone by the time I’m finished with you.”

He leaned down, fucking you deeper, each thrust dragging a new cry from your lips. “You’re mine, Darling. This pussy’s mine. This ruined body? Fucking mine.”

He came with a low groan, cock twitching deep inside you as he filled you up—hot, thick spurts coating your insides while he held you down, watching your cunt twitch around him.

But he didn’t pull out.

“Mm,” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek. “Still twitching. One orgasm won’t do. Not for a mess like you.”

He rolled his hips again, still hard, cum already leaking from between your folds.

“Lie back,” he whispered, voice syrup-thick with menace. “We’re not done until I say you’re empty.”

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Jade Likes Legs

No Sex But There Is Eel Dick

They/Them is used for the reader.

The merman's initial appearance was admittedly quite startling, emerging from the depths with only his glowing eyes and a mess of teal hair visible above the water's surface. At first, they were half-convinced that they were witnessing some kind of sea monster. Him not doing much in those meetings but peaking at them, glowy mismatched eyes watching and body hidden.

It's a few more trips to the docs, the merman getting closer and growing bolder with each encounter, before he gives them another scare and makes a grab for one of their legs, finally giving them a glimpse of a muscular and finned arm.

He doesn't budge no matter how much they scream or kick. The expression of his emerged face was one of amusement rather than malice, his smile only offering a small glimpse of sharp teeth. His firm grip on their ankle stayed and, to their surprise, he did not attempt to pull them into the water or do them any harm, but simply held them there, studying them intently as they gradually calmed their panicked reactions. 

After they calmed, he looked from them and to the leg he was holding before giving it a gentle squeeze letting go and returning to the sea.

It was sometime after that when they decided to make another visit to the old wooden docs, but to their surprise, when they did, a small pile of shiny trinkets and lovely shells in their usual spot was found.

As their comfort with one another grew It became a habit to return to the area around a certain time each day, the merman always placing some kind of shell or shiny trinket carefully next to the land dweller on the wooden doc before indulging in his near-daily squeezing, stroking, and touching of their feet, legs, and thighs with the most enthralled look on his face, being ever so careful with his claws. 

Neither typically spoke to the other during the process. Though it was clear that he could understand them, the most that the human would get in the way of responses would be a hum and a few clicks. Yet at times...he would let out a short chuckle that sounded suspiciously human.

The texture of his slick skin was…very alien to their own, the slimy texture admittedly grossed them out the first few times they made physical contact but they eventually grew used to it and even later noticed that the areas of skin that he happened to touch would become softer and more clear of blemishes, his favorite typically being their thighs as he seemed to enjoy rubbing his face against them and gently sinking his claws into the fat of them.

It's one of those times when the merman was indulging in said thighs with happy chitters and sharp nibbles that they notice something tickle their foot.

They tried to lightly kick it away, but the merman's body jumped, and he then bit them, though not too hard, causing them to let out a hiss and give a yank of his hair. He merely lets out a groan in response, moving his mouth from the now-marked area of their outer thigh. He then buried his face into their lap, wrapping wet arms around their waist and keeping his body tight against theirs, further soaking their light tank and shorts.

It's when they're about to question him that they feel something firm yet flexible attempt to wrap around their right foot. They try pushing at his shoulder to move him so they can get a better look at what's touching them but their hand slips thanks to the thin layer of slime coating the male's body.

Annoyed they dig their foot hard against whatever the slimy thing wrapping itself around their foot is.

At that, he finally removes his face from their lap and lets out a loud deep moan. Using their hands to grip the wooden deck for the support they place the sole of their free foot against the merman's firm stomach. Though not strong enough to push him away completely they're able to finally see what's touching them under the water and…saw something new and unexpected. Emerging from a flushed slit from where the male's v-line ended was...some kind of pinkish and almost slug-looking appendage.

Oh...

Oh!

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Derpsheep; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Oh! Are you not the kind of bird who makes the nest? Because I can totally make a nest, I can definitely do that!” its new Robin blurts eagerly, straightening up in the air and brightening in excitement. 

Dick cackles, and Tim makes a strangled noise and vanishes completely inside Robin’s wings. 

“Um . . . is that not . . .?” Its new Robin trails off, looking embarrassed. The Batman is . . . puzzled. It really never has had a Robin that nested before. They’re all different, obviously, but–

Oh, it realizes, and tilts its head. Perhaps this actually isn’t a new Robin. Perhaps this is something . . . else. 

Something–new, in a sense. 

There was Batgirl and the Spoiler, but this is more . . . Starfire, maybe. More like her. Something different, that isn’t from Gotham. Isn’t of it. Something new and shiny like a just-made, just-cut diamond with no history to it. 

The Batman prefers history. Prefers old and lovely things; the long, long line of preservation and protection. The cherished, and the stories that are cherished most of all. The history of a bloodline, of a name, and the loving fear of the dark, and the flip of a decades-old coin against the shine of a centuries-old jewel, and above all, the concept of justice.

But the Batman is also a thing of change, a thing that wants to keep moving, and a thing that wasn’t there, once, but will be from now on. A thing that wants to help bring something better. 

It wants better for Gotham. 

And Superman is something bright and constant in the world, and wants better for it. So then . . . Superboy is . . . not a Robin, but . . . 

Something new and shiny and just-made, and made of a dreaming for that “better”, when the Batman looks at him the right way. 

Something that came looking for its Robin with a diamond made just for him, and caught Nightwing without a moment’s hesitation when he asked, and wants to build its Robin a nest. 

Hm. 

Selina brings it diamonds, sometimes, wrapped around Cat-claws and a slick smile. But she never stays to nest. 

But not-its-new-Robin still tastes just a bit like Cat. 

. . . hm. 

kitten, the Batman decides after a long moment, and then pats the kitten’s curly fur with the trailing edge of its cape. It leaves the rest of it strung in a net, though, because Cats shouldn't be able to fly at all. 

Not that it's telling the kitten that, because then he might realize he can't and fall. 

“Uh–what?” The kitten blinks at him, though he leans into the petting just the slightest bit, feeling like a neglected alleycat that's just feral enough not to know what to do about being touched. Dick falls over laughing–though he doesn’t actually fall; not any farther than the ledge–and Nightwing’s discordant cackle echoes across the rooftops. 

“Oh my god,” Tim mutters under his breath, and sounds very “teenage” even in Robin’s voice. 

The Batman has learned about teenagers. 

kitten, it repeats with one last patient scratch behind the kitten’s ears, then draws its cape back. Strays don’t get used to being petted so quickly. 

The kitten . . . blinks, once or twice, his eyes very large and pupils dilated far past normal human proportions behind the flat opaque surface of his glasses. 

It does look very Cat-like, in the dark. 

The Batman hums its approval and pats Tim’s shoulder where Robin’s feathers drape and cover, and then turns to leave.