#dove loves to steal phones

[flygefisk]

more oc dragons :) i have a problem

victor lovelock, occultist turned exorcist, and dove, an demon. victor is a trans man, he/him, and dove is a ????? he/it/they/whatever

tbh i feel weird putting good old art next to new ehh art but w/e. my pens are super dying im in a hell of my own making (only buying one set of pens on clearance)

victor wasn't very careful, as a teenager getting deep into the occult. he'd summoned a few lesser demons and handled them quite nicely, but dove somehow discovered victor's given name. as victor had already chosen a true name, his deadname held little power over him, but enough that a demon as clever as dove could do a lot of damage.

victor panicked, and soul-bound dove to himself. so now they're stuck together til death for either party. neither can do anything to cause harm to the other, and neither can do anything to break the contract without risking of a violent death.

dove still spends its first several months in victor's employ trying to kill him. then a few more trying to annoy him to death. once the murder attempts stop, they actually mesh pretty well, and make a good living as ghost hunters/exorcists/trauma counselors for the dead.

they sorta make a name for themselves, and other "ghost hunters" come to them for advice- some have a theory that one of them is a demon! ...they just always think it's victor. dove is good at disguising himself, while victor can't help his appearance, and there's the whole goat/devil thing, and the yellow eyes, and...

victor and dove have a third roommate, a ghost named eve. she's not ready to move on, and she helps out around the house, so she can stay for now, even if she hogs the couch. honestly, eve, each piece doesn't need a separate cushion.

[boxofbonesfic]

omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely. 

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember. 

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.”

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind. 

What is on his mind, is you. 

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed. 

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in. 

But not anymore. 

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.  

Fuck.  

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins. 

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red. 

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer. 

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another. 

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.” 

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.” 

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—” 

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass. 

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face. 

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes. 

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek. 

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably. 

“Nothing.” 

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question. 

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment. 

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger. 

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips. 

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map. 

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?” 

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time. 

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him. 

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.” 

“Stop.” 

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet. 

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite. 

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road. 

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS. 

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.” 

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom. 

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.” 

“He’s fine.” 

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily. 

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done. 

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding. 

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.” 

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.” 

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face. 

It feels right. 

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles. 

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house. 

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed. 

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.” 

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too. 

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken. 

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips. 

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible. 

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out. 

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.” 

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs. 

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low,  satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.” 

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty. 

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it. 

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton. 

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp. 

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied. 

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin. 

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes. 

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.” Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs. 

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.  

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face. 

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs. 

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you. 

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds. 

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it. 

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages. 

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger. 

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought. 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.” 

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—”  Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red. 

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”  He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip.  “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.” 

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it. 

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth. 

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control. 

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.” 

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him. 

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds. 

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone. 

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs. 

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder. 

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you. 

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.” 

the end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[eyesxxyou]

Req: perverted Hobie who's so SHAMELESS he literally does not gaf. Ofc all of this is consensual but also he really has no fear in his heart

Bro steals panties/boxers/thongs out of the dirty laundry and fucking SNIFFS em, jerks off into it and really wraps it around his dick. He'll call you up too, telling you how much he misses you and how your underweae just can't compare :( you just know when he gives it back it'll be all stained even if it's your fav pair :(

💿 ꩜ ❝ perversion ❞ hobie brown x ftm trans!reader ꩜ 💿

❝ contents ❞ underwear sniffing, masturbation with underwear, phone sex

Hobie found it ridiculously easy to get into your basket of dirty clothes. His nimble fingers pulling shirts from jeans, clothing from clothing, until he found just exactly what he was looking for.

He didn't discriminate. Briefs would work just as fine as panties and thongs would, anything that contained your scent on it. He would hold the cloth in his hands, fingers pulling apart the waistband that usually kept it secured to your hips, and find the part that held your pussy.

He’d shove his nose into it and sniff, letting out a long, shaky breath in the wake of his perversion. He’d get rock hard in an instant, just the smell of his favorite boy’s delicious cunt was enough to do it.

Hobie would get into your bed and let himself be surrounded by your scent, puffing his face into the crotch of your underwear once more to get a hit of the sweat, the tanginess of your essence. He’d moan as he sniffed and palmed himself through his pants, hands working his cock from out of their restraints just enough to let it rest against his abdomen. It would smear precum across his naval, let it pool just below his pierced belly button, the jewelry getting wet in the process.

Hobie would take the underwear after sufficiently suffocating himself in your delectable musk and wrap it around his length with his cock head pressed into the crotch where it was still wet from your juices leaving out from your sopping cunt.

His eyes flutter as he strokes himself. The fabric rubbing his in just the right places to make his back arch from the pillows of your bed. His hand tries to replicate the way you stroke him in yours, the way your fingers trace beneath the tip, the way you squeeze with just the right amount of pressure. He can still smell you, taste you on his tongue.

Then he gets such a sick idea. He rummages through his pocket and grabs his phone, fumbling about with it in one hand while the other continued to press your underwear onto his member. He was quick to dial your number and hold the phone to his ear, counting off the rings with a flick of his skillful fingers.

You picked up the phone with an enthusiastic, “Hey, Hobes!” The thrum of your voice makes him shudder, hand gripping his cock tighter, stroking harder. So blissfully unaware of the way he smeared pre into the thin fabric of your underwear, soiled them, the sacred beauty of them.

“How’s ya day goin’, dove?”

You, innocent, tell him in detail the ups and downs of your day and he loves every second of it. You know not the way he preys upon you, your sweet nativity. Every word fueling his building tightness in his lower belly.

Hobie bit his bottom lip, humming soft affirmations to assure you he was listening. But with each one you were more sure he wasn't.

You knew about his perversion. It was no secret that he liked to steal your underwear and do sick things with them. Sometimes he liked to do them in front of you. He loved the thrill of you watching, loved the way you’d take your soiled underwear with his cum soaked and sitting on the crotch, and put them on. You were just as sick as him.

“Do you have my underwear?” You’d ask with an air of patience. Finally, Hobie would let out a guttural moan, body rolling with the beginnings of a climax. He pressed the pussy area of the cloth into his cock, pressing so hard he might just tear a hole through.

He’d unload his cum into the crotch with something of a strangled cry while you cooed in his ear, whispering about how dirty he was for taking your briefs.

“It doesn't compare to you, luv. Not even close.”

taglist: @hobs-kiss, @hoe-bie

[ddejavvu]

Could I request reader struggling with homework/being unmotivated and Remus being sweet and helping her get through it <3 thank u

You're back on tiktok. For the fifth time since you started your assignment an hour and a half ago, you're on tiktok, slouched in your chair and pointedly ignoring the work in front of you.

"Dove," Remus tuts, working diligently on his own assignment, "That's not homework."

"I know," You groan, face just a tad too close to the phone screen, "I dunno, Rem. Just can't do it."

"Well it would help if you put your phone away," He gives you a knowing look, "Give it here, angel. I'll hold it so you don't get distracted."

"No!" You whine, clutching the device to your chest, "It's mine."

"But you're not getting any work done! I'm only trying to help," He laughs at your insistence, "The only way you'll get anything done is if you put the phone away."

"I still won't want to do it," You grumble, sighing miserably into your hands, "Remus, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm hopeless, I'll never finish my work."

"That's not true," He stands from his chair, circling your own to plant his hands firmly on your shoulders. He peers down at your work, "That's not going to take you long, darling. And when you're done, you'll feel so much better. Like you've accomplished things, like you haven't sat on your phone all day."

He plucks the device from your hands at the mention of it, and you don't make an effort to fight back. You know he's right; it's the reason you're not getting anything done, but you'd rather distract yourself than do work you don't care about.

"Come on," He pats your shoulder, sticking your phone securely in his pocket, "How about when you're done, we go out to the shops for dinner. And you can stop in that little boutique you've been wanting to look in? You can pick a treat, on me."

"Really?" Your eyes shine as you glance back at him, and he nods with a lazy grin.

"Yeah, dove." He presses a kiss to the side of your head, "Get your work finished, and when you're done, we'll head out. Deal?"

"Deal," You gush, sitting up straighter in your seat, "Thanks, Rem!"

"Mm-hmm," He hums, heading back to his own seat. He intends to get back to work himself, but he can't help staring at you, stealing glances whenever he can manage. Apparently you're just as distracting to him as your phone was to you, and he uses his own cell to snap a picture of you working. You look fantastic when you're concentrated, he loves the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips. He's always proud of you, but as he sets the photo as his home screen, he's extra proud that you'd muscled through your lack of motivation, and he's happy to offer you a treat to keep it up.

[theveesbf]

I THOUGHT SONGFICS STOPPED HAPPENING?! How about… ZIP!! and the song “Boyfriend” ? It MIGHT make sense- I haven’t seen a songfic in forever !!!!!

𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒎

★ song -> Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

✮ warnings -> jealous!zip

★ notes -> hiii!!! I love this song!! And yeah idk what happened to them?? 😭 but I'm here to try to bring them back!!

[♡] Zip

You were currently sobbing, sitting next to Zip on a table as you scrolled through your phone thinking of your boyfriend.

Ah, yes, your boyfriend. The guy who Zips hates so much. How could you even date him? He's such an asshole to you, while she is here, being the sweetest she can just to get your attention.

When you finally stopped crying, Zip looked at you and saw your disappointed face, giving up on waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up before she spoke.

"I never would have left you alone. Here on your own glued to your phone"

You looked at her surprised. She never tried to comfort you during these times, at least not with words. So, why the sudden change?

"I never would have left you alone. For someone else to take you home."

That caught your attention. She put a hand on your shoulder, and another on your chin, moving your head slightly to face her.

"I can be a better boyfriend than him."

Your eyes widened at that, and without a moment to even process what she said, Zip continued.

"I could do the shit that he never did. Up all night, I won't quit."

Hearing Zip say those words made your face get red, and you felt yourself getting closer to her face, while she did the same.

"Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him. I could be such a gentleman..."

Now you felt her breath on your face, as you gave her a soft look, and she did the same with a smile.

"Plus all my clothes would fit."

And you two finally touched each other's lips, kissing with passion as you now don't even remember you have a boyfriend in the first place.

[desceros]

For infinite singularity, I was wondering, after Donnie takes reader out of the office through the portal…

What happens to the..crime scene and our psycho coworker? Especially what did the rest of the brothers do?

(Btw love ur work, ur a total inspiration! ✨💞drink water, steal sum sustenance, take care of yourself 💗)

As soon as you and Donnie are through the portal, Leo gets to work. 

Mikey’s in charge of keeping your coworker from doing anything stupid. A task he enjoys greatly, as it means he gets to sit and giggle on the guy’s chest and pretend he can’t hear him wheezing for breath where Donnie nearly choked him. Meanwhile, Raph is sent off to take care of getting the power back on. He’s no Donnie with tech and never will be, but he’s getting decent at stuff like this. They don’t need it, but it’ll make it easier when the cops finally show up to wipe up the mess.

“So, what exactly was the plan here, huh?” Leo asks your coworker. “You get kicks out of roughing up pretty girls?”

“She’s not some random girl. She’s my soulmate,” your coworker spits, vile descriptions of the things he planned on doing to you cut off when Leo gets a foot on the clown’s broken forearm. 

“Wow, that’s so weird. Here I thought she was my brother’s soulmate,” Leo says, waving his hand in the air and watching the rage purple your coworker’s face. “What with the whole can’t stand to be apart and gazing sappily into each other’s eyes thing they have going on.”

“My pure little dove wouldn’t fuck a monster. He’s forcing her.”

“Buddy, I can promise you, first hand account, she did. Also, kind of ironic considering I’m pretty sure you got caught with your hand in one hell of a cookie jar, don’t you think?”

Raph comes back. “Power’s on,” he says, his word the only indication that’s the case since he left the lights off. Better for them, just in case. 

“Good job. One last thing,” Leo says, putting more of his weight on your coworker’s arm and feeling the bones splinter beneath his heel. “What’s TCRI doing sending out hit squads? Last I checked, business wasn’t supposed to be this cut-throat.”

Between heaving breaths of agony, your coworker groans in wretched agony before he just starts to laugh and laugh and laugh. “You’re a funny guy.”

“Right? Everyone keeps saying it’s my brother, but man, I’m telling you, my lines are killer,” Leo says, a grin that’s all teeth slashing onto his face as he grinds his heel into shattered bone. 

“He ain’t gonna talk,” Raph says after a minute more of your coworker just laughing each time he stops gritting his teeth in pain. 

“I can make him do it,” Mikey says cheerfully, a smile that doesn’t match his eyes pulling into place. 

“…Raph’s right. We’re not going to get anything out of him,” Leo says, pulling his foot off your coworker’s arm. “Knock him out and call it in.”

“I’ll find her again,” your coworker grits through his teeth. “She’ll never be able to hide from me. I’ll haunt her forever. Even if it’s like this, it’ll only ever be me she thinks about. Forever and ever and—”

“Ohh, my god, shut up,” Mikey groans, and with a thwack, your coworker goes silent. He then looks up at Leo, tilting his head. “…I didn’t know you believed in soulmates, too, Leo!”

“…Of course I don’t,” Leo brushes off, turning to inspect the security camera, putting his shell to his brother’s gaze.

“Cops’re on the way,” Raph says, and the two watch as Mikey gets your coworker trussed like a turkey. 

“We’ll have Donnie send them the security footage. Doesn’t look like he tampered with the cameras,” Leo says. Cutting a portal, he jerks his head. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Reappearing in the lair, Leo pulls up his phone.

neon leon (6:11 p.m.) hey hermano. everything okay over there? how she doing

neon leon (6:12 p.m.) bud? you good?

neon leon (6:15 p.m.) nerd says whaaaat

Narrowing his eyes, Leo starts to tap out the next message—dude if you don’t answer in two minutes i’m coming over and—before he freezes in place, thinks for a moment, then groans in disgust. 

“Did you get a hold of Donnie?” Raph asks, tilting his head in confusion when Leo brushes past with a wrinkled beak.

“Let’s give ‘em an hour then try again. Fuckin’ rabbits.”

“…Rabbits?”

Mikey pets Raph’s shell consolingly. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Wh—B—I’m the oldest?!”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Perfidious.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Killer!Childe x M!Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 4.0k.

TW: Non//Con, Bottom!Childe, Graphic Violence, Kidnapping, Blood, Rough Sex, Bondage, Disturbing Themes, Obsessive Behavior, and Slight Bleeding Kinks.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You felt steel against your back, first.

Straight, narrow, peeling away from you at the edges; running from the small of your back to the nape of your neck before losing contact where your head lulled to the side. The rope around your wrists was next, soft and smooth but drawn tight enough to bite into your forearms, then the concrete floor beneath your exposed form, greedily stealing away what warmth you’d managed to retain after the metal pole pressing into your spine drank its fill. Sharp copper filled your lungs, the scent of gore too fresh to carry the sickening sweetness of rot nearly strong enough to blot out your vision when you finally managed to pry your eyes open. Even then, your sight blotted grey around the edges, the world a smear of dark shadows and bright lights and red on—

Red.

Red dots, painted across the dull grey of the concrete floor. Red smeared against blank walls and coating the tapering points of meat hooks suspended haphazardly from the low ceiling. Red hair, smattered with viscera and slicked back by sweat, but still recognizable at first glance.

Your voice came out raspy, staggered. It tore at your throat, caught on your teeth, but you forced yourself to speak. You couldn’t think of anything else to do. “…Ajax?”

He was on the other side of the concrete room – a cellar, you realized, somewhat belatedly – but he turned as soon as you managed to wretch the words from your tongue. He was… He looked off; disheveled, but not as distressed as someone in his state should’ve been. His designer clothes and fur-lined coats had been traded out for a plain grey t-shirt and a black apron, the fabric of both visibly wet. He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his hands were stained with crimson up to the elbow, merging into the blood-soaked pair of pliers in his left hand. Relief coursed through you at the sight of his easy smile, and you strained against your restraints as he turned away from whatever he was carving and began to approach you. You stained against the pole, against your restraints, but both held strong, keeping you bound in place as he came to stand in front of you, one of his hands falling low enough to cup your chin. Normally, you’d try to brush off his smothering affection, laugh as you batted his hand away or tried to remind him that not everyone wanted to be greeted with one of his bone-crushing hugs, but now, you melted into his palm, your grin wide enough to tear the corners of your lips. “Ajax, I— I don’t know what happened, I can’t—”

“How does your head feel?” His voice was gentle, his tone soft and light and as warm as the blood still dripping from his fingertips. “That was quite a fall.”

Right. You could remember it, now; the feeling of jutting steps digging into your chest and back, concrete scraping against tender flesh. It came back to you in pieces, nonlinear and broken into disjointed fragments. You were lying on the floor, quickly losing consciousness, then standing in Ajax’s doorway, checking the address on your phone as you tried to figure out why your wealthiest classmate wouldn’t be living in some dilapidated shack on the edge of town. There’d been a bat, and a bolt of pain in the back of your skull, and… and then you were here, in a dirty basement with Ajax and so, so much blood.

It didn’t make sense, but Ajax was above you, waiting for your answer with a patient smile. “I think so,” you tried, despite the pounding in the back of your head, the knotting dread in your chest. “Did… did you hit me? I can’t really… I don’t know what’s going on.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “I guess I did, huh? Not on purpose, though, I promise – I wanted to let you down nice and easy. Had a syringe of the good stuff ready and everything.” Ajax paused, patted a square indent in the front pocket of his apron. “You were more punctual than I thought you’d be. When I heard you upstairs, I figured your little friend had arrived first and…” A quirk to his smile, a slant to the way he held his shoulders. “Well, I wasn’t going to be as gentle with him.”

Your… friend?

Blearily, you glanced away from Ajax, to the corner of the cellar that he’d occupied before you woke up. Your vision wasn’t so spotted, anymore, your thoughts not quite as incoherent, and you were able to make out a worktable covered in tools and hacksaws and knives of all shapes and designs, and a man sitting on a plastic chair beside it. Expect, he wasn’t sitting – he was buckled into himself, slouching forward, only held up by the fraying rope wrapped around his chest and the duct tape keeping his arms bound to that of his chair. His shirt had been torn open, uniform lacerations drawn down the length of his chest in deep, jagged lines, and you could see blood dripping from his lips, his nose, his ears. Red, coating everything in sight. Scarlet as far as the eye could see.

It took you longer than it should’ve to recognize him; patches of yellow and black bruising blossoming across everything that hadn’t been cut open, distorting features that you’d never made an effort to remember in the first place. Even when you managed to scrape something up, it was more of a role than anything else – the boy who sat a row ahead of you in some general biology course you’d tacked on for an easy credit. He’d asked to borrow a pen once or twice. You’d never bothered to learn his name.

Ajax followed your line of sight, chuckling when he saw what’d stolen your attention away. He seemed to soften, squeezing your jaw one more time before pulling away, drawing back and toward the near stranger. “Stephan Zheng. He asked for your number two weeks ago, tried to say it was for some ‘study group’ – as if anyone would be dumb enough to believe that shit.” He laughed, again, but the noise was more strained, less affectionate. “It’s guys like this that really make me sick. I can take the boys and girls that constantly hover around you, at least they know how to keep their distance. Bastards who want to touch what’s not theirs, I just—” He set his jaw, growling from behind clenched teeth before clenching his eyes shut and inhaling sharply. “I’m not asking for a lot, just a little common decency. That’s pretty reasonable, right?”

It took you a long moment to respond, to remember how to use your tongue. “Ajax, did you do that to him?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart. I didn’t hurt anybody.” He turned away from you, taking up a rusted box-cutter. “I tortured him. And, eventually, I’m gonna make sure he never bothers us again.”

Your breath hitched as he moved towards the stranger, but he didn’t try to drive the short blade into his captive’s chest or add to the countless gaping wounds he’d already carved. Rather, he cut away the makeshift restraints, slicing through tape and rope and letting the stranger collapse to the floor, completely limp, completely vulnerable. Ajax remained unfazed, just wrapping his fist around the stranger’s neck and hauling him off the ground and toward one of the hanging hooks – this one shined and spotless, yet to be stained.

There was a slick, sickening piercing sound – metal plunging into meat, straining to penetrate muscle and scraping against bone in a way that made your teeth ache behind your lips. There was a final, shuttering breath from the stranger as the hook’s point emerged just below his collarbone before going limp, his swollen eyes barely open, his chest still. Agonizingly still.

You felt bile rise into the back of your throat. Your vision blurred, your shoulders dropping as you lurched forward, your consciousness threatening to blot out and leave you as helpless as the fresh corpse swaying just a few feet away. You felt yourself start to shake, but even that was distant – your body acting without your consent. If Ajax recognized your panic, he didn’t seem to care. There was a dull, hollow sound as he rummaged through the displaced tools on his worktable, a low coo, and then he was next to you, a sledgehammer with a broken, splintering grip in his dominant hand. “Deep breaths, baby, deep breaths.” He kneeled, bringing himself down to your height. Once again, his hand was on your cheek, thumb running over your jaw as he went on. “He’s all taken care of, alright? It’s just the two of us, now.”

“I don’t—” You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know what he was doing. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know how the man standing in front of you could be Ajax; sweet, oblivious Ajax, who always stood a little too close and laughed a little too loudly and tipped a little too much whenever he took you out for breakfast the morning after a late study session or one of the disgusting frat parties he’d drag you to. Ajax, who liked to joke about making you his spoiled trophy husband whenever you failed an exam or complained about your constantly rising rent. Ajax, who’d willingly been your shoulder to cry on every time another friend dropped out, or moved away, or just suddenly stopped talking to you without warning. Ajax, who’d just smile when you asked about his shady, ever-changing job and tell you not to worry your pretty little head about what he did when he wanted to get his hands dirty.

It was hard to breathe, hard to think about anything but his name and the copper slowly sinking into the tissue of your lungs. Still, you tried to pull yourself together, to flatten your voice into something comprehensible, to sound half as irrationally calm as he did. “I… Did you kill him?”

There was a soft hum by way of confirmation, another swipe of his thumb over your cheek. “I just roughed him up a little. If he died, it’s just because he’s too weak to take what he deserves.”

For a long moment, you were quiet.

Then, shifting against the pole, you looked downward, to the floor between your legs; the concrete dusted with stains so dry and so dark, they couldn’t have been made that day. “Ajax,” you said, again, drawing out his name into something pleading. “I think I have to leave, now.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, too.

Then, he laughed, and something cracked in your chest. Slowly, he leaned into you, his chapped lips barely brushing against yours before he fell lower, pressing a lingering kiss into the corner of your jaw, then the curve of your throat. “I thought you’d say something like that,” he muttered, as he finally pulled away. “Don’t worry, it’ll only hurt for a few seconds.”

You watched from a distance as he pushed himself to his feet, taking up his sledgehammer. The blow itself was precise, practiced; too quick and too effective not to be something he’d done a thousand times. For a second, as the steel head crashed into your ankle, there was only static numbness; vague pins and needles and the awareness that there should’ve been pain and that pain should’ve been unimaginable. Your mouth fell open, Ajax’s whispered nothings was flattened into a muted buzz, and for a long moment, it was all you could do to stare at your own foot and try to figure out why it was able to bend that way.

Then, he brought his hammer down on your other, uninjured leg, and you screamed.

It seemed to go on for minutes, hours, days. The world was just you, the pure agony racing up both your legs, and the sound of your own voice; ragged and desperate, pleading and cursing and tearing at your lungs until you couldn’t feel anything but the slight tinge of hurt at the back of your throat and a second heartbeat racing in your ears. You thrashed against the pole, kicking out with your useless legs, but Ajax only responded with a throaty laugh, letting his weapon fall out of his hold and dropping back to your height, straddling your thighs and taking your face in both of his hands. He didn’t shy away from your lips, this time. This kiss was brutal, animalistic – his teeth crashing against yours as he drank down the sounds of your pain, moaning against your lips in response. His hips rolled against yours, and you were forced to acknowledge the weight of his cock pressing into your stomach – already straining against the material of his pants. You recoiled on instinct, but Ajax only sunk further into you. “Feel that?” He asked, his voice little more than a raspy whisper. “That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I love you.”

“You’re sick.” You were whispering, too, suddenly too weak and too shocked to do anything else. “You can’t— You have to let me go, this isn’t—”

“As if you’d get anywhere on those legs.” Feverishly, jerkily, he was dragging his shirt over his head, smearing gore along grey fabric as he tore off his blood-stained apron and the rest of his clothes, never letting himself put more than a foot of distance between your body and his. Never dropping that awful, bloodthirsty grin. “I’ve been thinking about this since the day we fucking met. You don’t know how much I wanted to—”

He broke off, pausing just long enough to take your dick in his hand. You tried to tell yourself that it was just the adrenaline, that the loose coil beginning to form in the pit of your stomach was just gnawing dread, but your body was a stripped nerve; every sensation dialed up to its maximum capacity, every touch cutting through your skin and making contact with something more delicate, much more vulnerable that laid beneath your flesh. You could feel the humidity of his breath as it fanned over your throat, the stifling warmth of his chest against yours. You could feel the heel of his palm, calloused and rough, as it ground into your base, and the tightness of grip as his fingers wrapped around your cock. “If I wasn’t so nice, I would’ve pinned you down on the floor of that fucking lecture hall and sucked you dry. But, I wanted our first time to be special.” He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck. “I was hoping you’d crack if I picked off enough of your little friends, but you were just so stubborn. If I didn’t know better, I might’ve gotten it into my head that you just didn’t like me.”

You grit your teeth, clenched your eyes, but there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from hardening against his palm, your body desperate for any scrap of mercy he would show you. Raw agony burnt in your veins, twisting around your ribs and pushing everything below your ankles to an unfeeling distance, but a small, burgeoning warmth writhed beneath it; a unique kind of torture in its own right. You jerked against your bondage, and when that failed, you forced yourself to grimace, to turn away and will yourself not to react to him. It was an effort made in vain, though. Ajax knew what he was doing, even if he was only using his hand, even if he chose not to act like it; toying with you, swiping the pad of his thumb over your flushed head and grinding the heel of his palm into the underside of your cock, keeping you sensitive while making sure to withhold any kind of stimulation that’d actually tip you over the edge. When your fragile composure started to crack, when the first distorted whimper slipped past your lips despite your best efforts, he pulled back abruptly, drawing a jagged whine from the back of your throat. His apology came in the form of a lingering kiss pressed into your collarbone, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Just give me a few seconds,” he said as he moved back, leaning into you. “Been dying to make you cum on my face since I got a look at what you’ve been hiding from me. Don’t have time for that now, but I think my poor heart might break if I don’t get a taste.”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant before your cock was in his mouth, shoved past his lips with no reluctance or hesitation. You felt his nose hit your pelvis, his throat constricting around your cock, but Ajax had always been dauntless, and now, he was using all that courage and all that arrogance to choke on your length, saliva and pre-cum dripping from the corners of his mouth. It was less of an effort to get you off and more of a prolonged attempt to suffocate himself – his blunt nails burrowing into your hips as he held you still, pinning you underneath him and giving him the time to fall into a half-coherent rhythm, to sloppily bob his head and curl his tongue around your cock. You tried to shut your eyes, to block out what you could and ignore what you couldn’t, but he was just so warm, and messy, and loud – groaning and mewling, constantly drawing your attention towards him, towards the violation of your body.

It was careless, and it was grotesque, and your body drank in every scrap of sick pleasure. It took so much of your depleted strength to stop your hips from bucking into his mouth, to stop your mangled legs from twitching underneath him, that you almost didn’t notice when something warm and viscous seeped against the side of your thigh. Without having to open your eyes, you knew what it was, and you knew what it meant when Ajax pulled away from you, pressing a wet kiss into the inside of your thigh before swiping two fingers through the trail of blood. You watched him, dead-eyed and vacant, as he spread himself open with his blood-soaked digits, every movement too rushed to come across as anything but feral, too rough to be the first time he’d fucked himself that day. You didn’t know which reality would’ve been more disturbing – one where Ajax was just that masochistic, just that willing to hurt himself if it meant hurting you, too, or the alternative, the one where the anticipation had been too much, where Ajax hadn’t been able to wait until he had you at his mercy. You didn’t know which would haunt you more, when the pain reached to your head and you inevitably lost consciousness again.

It wouldn’t take very long. Ajax was too careless, too clumsy as he wrapped his legs around your waist, stringing one arm around your neck while he used his free hand to position your cock against his ass. You clenched your eyes shut, twisted as far from him as you could get, but it was already too late – tears, ugly and searing, were already streaming down your cheeks, a ragged sob tearing past your lips as you felt your cock push into him. Ajax slid back onto you without hesitation, only pausing when you bottomed out to coo and bury his face in the crook of your neck before raising his head, before dragging his tongue from the edge of your jaw to the space just under your eye. “I know, I know, I’m just as happy as you are,” he murmured, when he was done, his tone almost gentle. “And I love you, too.”

The words remained on his tongue, repeated in airy whispers and hitched moans, forming a faltering mantra as he started to move – rolling his hips, fucking himself with your overly-sensitive cock like you were some breathing, sobbing toy. Your own vocalizations were less sentimental, a near-incoherent string of stifled cursing and pointless begging just to make it stop. It was a losing battle, if you could even compare it to a real fight. He was tight, and warm, and his eyes burnt into yours; half-lidded but twice as intense as such lifeless blue should’ve been. Your body was his to mold, his to toy with, and he seemed to want to play with you as violently as he could. He seemed to take a special kind of joy in choking cracked gasps and fractured moans out of you, in clenching down around your length and sucking throbbing hickeys into your throat and never letting you escape the sound of skin against skin, the heavy scent of sex and sweat and so, so much blood. Involuntarily, humiliatingly, you felt yourself twitch inside of him, and somehow, Ajax’s pace grew even more unsteady, more sporadic. “Pl-Fuck, please,” he plead, his voice as airy as it was eager. One of his hands fell between your body and his, pumping over his own cock as aggressively as he was fucking himself on yours. “Fill me up. Breed me. Please, please, knock me—”

Anything he might’ve said cut out into a throaty groan, and in a last-ditch effort to save what little pride you had left, you tore your attention away from Ajax, let it skirt over blood-splattered cement before finding what you couldn’t seem to avoid; the stranger hanging on the other side of the cellar, fresh blood still dripping from the ragged hole in his chest. It was all you could do to stare at him, for a long moment, unable to move, unable to think.

Then, his eyes shuttered open, glassy pupils flickering towards you, and you came undone inside of Ajax in an instant.

With a sharp cry and a hitched breath, he buckled into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and rocking his hips until he fractured just as suddenly as you had – his climax following yours by barely a fraction of a second. You felt his cum, thick and burning, paint the flesh of your stomach, his teeth sink into your shoulder one more time before he straightened his back, his tongue lolling past his lips as he panted. He looked like he wanted to keep going, to keep draining you of all things good and vital, but your body was already screaming in protest, the pain already setting back in – racing through your form with a vicious sort of resentment. Reluctantly, Ajax pried himself away from you, and you were distantly aware of the rope around your wrists falling away, something soft wrapping around your body, Ajax’s laugh as he lifted you into his arms, as you melted against his chest, unable to do anything else. You thought, to yourself, that you’d be relieved if you never heard that sound again. You thought that it must’ve gotten worse, after he’d knocked you out.

You would’ve noticed if his laugh was always that terrible.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. You can get a little rest.” His voice was just as awful, dripping with just as much cruelty. If you’d had a little more resolve, you might’ve tried to shove him away, to make a token effort at resistance.

If you’d been a little stronger, you would’ve been able to do anything but close your eyes and hope he’d be the Ajax you remembered, when you woke up.

“I’ll be right here to take care of you, when you wake up.”

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 3)

notes: another short part, because it seems like these devils website streamed games are harder for me to write for? so sorry!

au masterlist

y/ndevils00

liked by nicohischier, ehaula, and 218,966 others

y/ndevils00 greetings and salutations! welcome to another preseason recap! as always, strap in and get ready!

just a reminder that as this is preseason, not all of satan’s favorite children played! tonight we had swiss cheese, swiss roll, uncle haulaback girl, uncle lizard again, best friend number 1, V², and ginger snap!

we started off the game by giving up a goal to the annoying orange’s 😐

BUT lizard man tied us up almost halfway through the 1st! POP OFF, UNCLE CURTSY!

captain whore was jailed tonight for being too cute, and ya know what? i think it’s fair! make him stay there!

not long after cap’s penalty, we got a goal from holtzy! giving us a 2-1 lead!

but then ham sammich also got a penalty for tripping!

we made it almost all the way through 3rd with our lead and i was really looking forward to going home! until one of those orange fucks tied up the game 🫠

i had a few choice words for that player… lindy didn’t like my words, i don’t think

however, about 2 and a half minutes into OT… HAULA THE BALLA GOT THE GAME WINNING GOAL WITH ASSISTS FROM BESTIE NUMBER 1 AND THE GIANT TEDDY BEAR!!

which means your devils are 4-0 in the preseason!! 3 games left!

p.s. this is my formal request to never have to be around gritty again. i thought adam fantilli was my biggest fear, but i’ve been proven wrong

tagged curtislazar95, nicohischier, holtz_10, dougieham, ehaula, dawson1417

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curtislazar95 i always look forward to your praise, niece!

y/ndevils00 i’m so glad! can i babysit your children (my cousins) one day?

curtislazar95 quite literally never 💚🦎

y/ndevils00 eh, probably the right choice

jackhughes are you seriously afraid of a mascot, dove?

y/ndevils00 look at him! i think he would plan my murder and get away with it

grittynhl i would

y/ndevils00 OH MY JESUS FUCK GET HIM AWAY

lhughes_06 dawson sent him a video of you throwing your phone and now jack is currently doubled over on the floor, tears rolling down his face, as he laughs at this

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes glad to know you find my FEAR amusing

ehaula i try, i try 🤗

y/ndevils00 you did better than dawson! (don’t tell dawson)

dawson1417 YOU KNOW I CAN SEE THIS, RIGHT??

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 no you can’t, this is a private conversation!

dawson1417 i can assure you, it is NOT

john.marino97 i’m loving this

dawson1417 @/john.marino97 shut up, you’ve been stealing my affection!

y/ndevils00 @/dawson1417 @/john.marino97 boys, boys, i love you both equally!

dawson1417 no you don’t

john.marino97 no you don’t

dougieham why does it look like you took that picture of me from on the ice?

y/ndevils00 i have my ways

dougieham were you ON THE ICE somehow?!

jackhughes are you kidding? she would’ve broken her neck

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes okay and who’s fault is that? my boyfriend is a professional hockey player and you’ve never TAUGHT ME how to ice skate

jackhughes umm i TRIED to teach you! you fell on your face and then bribed luke to distract me so that you could get yourself hot cocoa and hide from me so you wouldn’t have to get on the ice again

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes hmm that doesn’t sound like something i would do. nope, not at all

nicohischier i didn’t miss this

y/ndevils00 yes you did

nicohischier i missed you calling me “captain whore” and taking pictures of me in the penalty box?

y/ndevils00 well maybe if you didn’t get penalties, i wouldn’t be ABLE to take pictures of you in the naughty boy box

nicohischier oh wow, i never thought of that before 😐

y/ndevils00 i know, you’re welcome

dawson1417 i got that assist for you!

y/ndevils00 awww i appreciate that, merc-dawg!

y/ndevils00 a goal would’ve been nicer tho

dawson1417 i’m feeling very under appreciated right now

y/ndevils00 aww i’m sorry, i love you! (do better)

dawson1417 i love you too! (yes ma’am 😔)

grittynhl i’m coming for you

y/ndevils00 help me 🥲

[slicznymartwy]

saccharine (you're billy's favorite.)

cis fem reader

warning: billy's being fucking weird again. stalking you from inside the house, stealing your panties, humping your pillow, breaking into your room and masturbating. dead dove stuff. don't read if that bothers you

read on ao3 here

Pushing open the door to the sorority house with all your might, you step inside with a relieved sigh. Finally, you’re home.

“Hello!” you call out, smiling to yourself as you waited for your sisters to respond. You unwrap your scarf until it hangs around neck and, still in silence, you lean against the banister to unzip your boots. Carefully, you peel them off – they’re brand new and a little damp from melting snow – and you leave them by the door to dry off.

“Hello?” you call out again, walking through the living room. “Is anyone home?” Still no answer.

You shrug off your heavy coat and hang it with the others. Some coats were missing, and some were left behind – it was the kind of day where the brightly shining sun staved off the bitter freezing wind enough that some students opted for their nicer lighter jackets. You, on the other hand, knew you ran too cold to be comfortable with just a sweater and denim jacket.

Turning away from the coats, you face the daunting house. Could you really be alone?

Sighing, you walk into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water from the tap, drinking half of it in one go. You gasp to catch your breath; you hadn’t realized you were so thirsty. Filling it up again, you walk a loop through the main floor before deciding that no one is hiding from you. Standing on the first landing of the stairs, you look up to the dark second floor.

“Hello? Seriously, you guys,” you call out, trepidatiously taking the first step. Taking a deep breath, you gather your courage and climb up the stairs. The sun is still shining, you tell yourself, there’s no reason to be afraid.

At the top landing, you glance down the hallway. You had always loved the sorority house, but it was moments like this that really scared you. An old house like this seemed to create shadows even on the brightest days. Every nook and cranny seemed to hold some villain, in your paranoid mind. Steeling yourself for the last time, you take a fortifying breath and hurl yourself up and beeline it for Clare’s room. You freeze when you take in the sight before you.

Clare, who was usually one of the first to get back from her morning lectures, was fast asleep in her bed. She was still wearing her day clothes, even down to her shoes. With a fond smile, you carefully close the door without making too much noise. You know your friend was overwhelmed with classes, and you’re just glad your yelling didn’t wake her up.

Feeling better now that you weren’t totally alone, you walk down the hall to your room, no longer jumping at every shadow you passed by. You laugh quietly to yourself, shaking your head at your overactive imagination.

Clicking on the lights to your bedroom, you leave the glass of water at your nightstand and sit down on the edge of your bed. You had plenty of assignments and projects to work on but seeing Clare nap made you feel a little sleepy too. With your hands resting on your stomach, you feel your eyes start to close on their own volition. You can always catch up with your work in the evening, you promise yourself. Just as you’re about to lose consciousness, you jump at the sound of the ringing phone.

You have no interest in picking it up, and if it was just you in the house, you probably would have let it ring until the caller gave up. With Clare trying to catch up with sleep next door, though, you rush downstairs to pick it up.

“Hello,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray your annoyance. Hearing nothing on the line, you try again. “Hello?”

Suddenly, the receiver crackles with noise, and it sounds so much like a dirty moan that you panic and slam the handset back on the hook, chest heaving with adrenaline. Before the phone can ring again, you take the handset off the hook and run back upstairs.

The Moaner, as your house has begun calling him, was becoming a common theme of discussion among your sisters. Some of the older girls had some gross fascination with him, and they liked to huddle close and listen as group as he spouted off some of the obscenest words you had ever heard. It turned your stomach to hear him talking about what he wanted to do to them, where he wanted to put his mouth.

Shaking your head to get rid of the thought, you run back upstairs and hope that no one had an important call for the house. It would have to wait until someone else got back. There was no way you were ready to deal with the Moaner by yourself.

You wake up from your nap to the sound of your sisters from the first floor. They sound close, like they’re all standing at the front door, and you do your best to fix your bedhead before stumbling downstairs. Turning the corner at the topmost landing, you can see them all whispering amongst themselves, but it isn’t very quiet. They don’t even notice you until you’re standing on the bottom landing, looking down at them with a furrowed brow.

“What’s wrong?” you ask one of the girls. Upon hearing your voice, the room goes quiet. Nervously, you glance at their faces, and they all mirror your expression. You gulp.

“Did someone die?” you ask worriedly.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Jess said, coming to meet you on the landing. She hugs you briefly, which you return without second thought. Gently, she leads you down the steps to join the other girls.

“Well, what is it?” you ask, wanting to rip off the band aid. You hate bad news, but you hate the bitter anticipation even more.

“It’s that pervert creep, the Moaner,” Barb started. She exhaled a cloud of smoke before continuing. “He called again.”

It wasn’t good news, but it didn’t explain their reaction towards you. Looking around at their faces, you knew it wasn’t the entire story.

“Okay,” you said slowly.

“He was talking about you. Pretty specifically,” Barb said. Although she tried to play cool, you could tell it had bothered her too. Your stomach turned, but you had sick wish to know what exactly he had said. Was he mad that you hung up on him?

“He knows my name?” you ask quietly.

“No, I don’t think so,” Phyl assured her, squeezing your arm comfortingly.

“He can be very descriptive,” Barb muttered, leaving the group to sit on the couch. Like ducklings behind their mother, the girls all followed her lead and settled in the living room too.

“What did he say?” you inquire, sitting beside Barb.

“We shouldn’t,” Phyl began, looking troubled.

“Why not? It’s about her, she should know,” Barb counters. She passes her cigarette to you, which you accept gladly. You didn’t smoke often, but your nerves were starting to make your hands shake.

“Really, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jess says. Your lips tremble slightly as you exhale, and you cover your mouth with a feigned cough.

Barb turns to you and asses you. “Do you really want to know?”

You nod and take another drag. “Tell me.”

Barb sighs heavily and takes another cigarette from the box on the coffee table, lighting it up for herself. The other girls look at each other, a mixture of sadness and nerves on all their faces. You can’t look at them, so you look at Barb instead.

“Clare’s the one who picked up. When we all ran over, he was already saying something about waking up. He said we had to wake ‘her’ up. Wouldn’t tell us who, but you were the only one who was asleep. Said he wanted to talk to you. Started getting all mad and worked up.”

“That’s enough, Barb,” Phyl said somberly.

“I’d wanna know if someone was saying this about me,” Barb protested, gesturing with her cigarette. “She’s not a child, you know. I wish you’d all stop treating her like one.”

You push your free hand between your knees and take another drag. “What else,” you say.

“Really-“ Phyl started, but you cut her off with a dark look. Barb was right, and you hated it when they treated you this way.

“What else did he say,” you ask Barb again. Barb gives you an unhappy smile. You’ve always been addicted to her approval since you first met her.

“He said he was going to wake you up himself. He really wanted to talk to you. I mean, I don’t even know how he knew you were asleep, unless the creeps been looking in windows.” That thought makes all the girls shudder, and the tension in the room manages to get worse.

“I don’t know. He said something about waking you up with his dick or something. You know how that pervert is. It’s just words, anyways. I think he gets his rocks off by scaring us, I doubt he’s brave enough to actually come over.” Barb lets out another cloud of smoke, and you can tell that whatever he said bothered her too.

You wonder if there’s more than she’s letting on, and if she just chickened out of telling you now that you were listening. Rubbing your eye, you pretend that it doesn’t bother you.

“You’re right,” you mumble, depositing the butt of the smoke into the ashtray. Barb nudges the box towards you, but you decline with a shake of the head and a tight smile. “Thanks for telling me. Guess I should keep my curtains closed from now on, huh?”

Barb smiles back and nods, patting your knee. With a little sigh, you stand up and look at the other girls. “I have some assignments I need to finish. Can someone get me when it’s time for dinner?” Clare nods, smiling up at you, and you smile back at her. It feels more genuine than your previous smiles, and you’re suddenly glad for the camaraderie you have with everyone in the house.

You retreat upstairs before you start crying in front of them. In your room, though, you collapse on your bed and feel tears already running down your cheeks. Damn those obscene calls and damn whoever was doing that. You didn’t know what you did to steal his attention, but it makes your skin crawl to think that this guy could see you somehow. Rubbing the back of your wrist on your cheekbone, you hurry to the window to close the blinds from prying eyes.

You clear your throat and flip the page of your book as you sit at your desk. Papers and books are cluttered around you like choppy lake water, but your desk lamp becomes the moon; it calms the chaos and puts its spotlight on your little rowboat.

“Sulfur dioxide, oxygen, and sulfur trioxide are placed in a closed system and allowed to reach equilibrium at a certain temperature according to the following reaction. What is the change in enthalpy with 1 mole of sulfur trioxide,” you say quietly, head bowed over your book. Your pen starts to scribble, and you whisper to yourself as you work. Under his breath, he mouths the words, what is the change in enthalpy.

Billy can hardly hear you, but it’s more than enough. Maybe it’s even better, because he can hear the way your lips move, can hear your tongue pressing around in your mouth all over the place. He swallows heavily and readjusts his supporting arm, then his knees. His entire body feels sore, but he can’t risk getting up to stretch. Missing a single moment of you is unbearable, and he presses his face even harder against the wooden attic floor.

He felt like he was staring into a dollhouse. He wanted to grab you and hold you in his hands. He could put you down his pants, make you hold onto his cock like you were hugging a tree. The thought made him giggle, and he bit his lip to keep quiet. Stupid slut, you always distracted him.

“The pressure is increased and the temperature is kept constant. Compared to the original number of moles of sulfur dioxide, the number of moles of sulfur dioxide present after the new equilibrium is reached is… ugh, I don’t know,” you say. Billy watches you lean back in your chair and rub your eyes under your glasses.

He would love to take them. He could rub his cock all over them, he bets. Could get his sticky cum all over the glass parts. He wonders if you would notice right away (probably, if you couldn’t see through them), but then you’d have to clean them off. You would still have to touch them. Maybe he’ll just rub his pre-cum onto the black parts of it. You might never know it was there. His cock twitches against his hand, reminding him why he was doing this in the first place. Still clad in denim, he rubs against the bulge in his pants as he continues watching.

You close your book with a slappy sound and sigh heavily. It looks like you’ve had enough studying for the night, but Billy wasn’t ready for you to sleep. He wanted to talk to you, hear your voice over the phone. It wasn’t enough to listen only to your stupid schoolwork, not when he really needed to hear you crying for his cock.

If he could just figure out your name. The stupid sluts in the house didn’t understand anything the last time he called. All they had to do was wake you up and get you to the phone, but they were just blabbering and shouting. He could have lined them up and strangled them one-by-one, he was so mad.

You were getting ready for bed now, which he also liked to watch. You had pretty hair, which you braided every night with a little ribbon at the end. You always left for the bathroom and then always came back wearing your pajama dress. Billy couldn’t help himself anymore, and he dropped his hips to the attic floor, pressing his cock against the dark hardwood.

The bedside lamp was clicked on, and you settled against you pillows – the same pillows Billy had started humping while everyone was out for the day. He thought that you had noticed but, after inspecting the stain, you shrugged it off and washed the sheets without question. Stupid slut doesn’t even know she’s sleeping on fucked pillows. Would you be jealous of them if you knew the truth? Would you want Billy to fuck you too?

It doesn’t take long for you to turn off your light and roll over onto your side. So beautiful, he thinks. A beautiful little whore. Fat, ugly, beautiful pig whore. He wants to bend you over the edge of your bed and shove his face in your ass, letting his tongue fuck into your pussy from behind. He wants to taste you so badly it hurts, and his dick is starting to hurt for real now. Stopping his hips for a second, he puts his hand underneath and presses down on himself instead. It feels better, he guesses, but not as good as it could be, with you.

Nothing was enough anymore. It was fun to cum on your pillows, and they smell so deeply of you that can pretend that he’s holding you in his arms as he fucks against it. But it’s also too soft, it gives in places where your body would be solid. Your panties are nice too, especially when they’re fresh and he can still smell your pretty cunt on the fabric, but that’s all they are. Fabric. Cum rags, once Billy was done with them.

It isn’t enough. His little dollhouse pig whore. He’ll pick you up out of your dollhouse bed and ruin you. Dirty Billy. Filthy Billy.

His body moves before his brain can catch up, and he walks on sore shaky legs to the ladder. He climbs down silently then pauses, waiting to hear a sound from any of the sleeping girls. Hearing nothing, he tip toes down the hall to his favorite room. He slips inside and it’s even darker than it seemed from the attic. With the door closed and the windows covered, there’s almost no light at all. She wouldn’t see him even if he was standing right over you.

With carefully measured steps, he walks around your bed to the side closest to your desk. It was still cluttered with textbooks and pages of notes. He wasn’t sure what caught his attention, because he never cared at all about schoolwork, but his eyes locked onto a simple piece of paper. Right at the top, he saw it. Your name.

At least, it might be your name. He takes the paper and folds it twice before slipping it into his back pocket. The name began bouncing around in his head like it was a red rubber ball, and his lips twitch as he imagines saying it. It suits you, he decides, a pretty name for a pretty slut.

He moves closer to your sleeping form, his thighs only a few inches away from the edge of your bed. Your back is to him, but it doesn’t matter at all. He can see more than enough – the shape of your shoulder from under your blankets, the lovely braid twisting around like a snake in your bed, the rising and falling of your body as you breathed. He loves you so much, it feels like heart is going to stop.

Slowly, without clinking the metal of his fly, he takes his cock into his hand and strokes himself. It’s dry, and a little bit abused from the floor, but it’s so perfect to do this in front of you. There’s nothing between them except the darkness.

It’s over quickly for Billy, and he steps forward as his cum shoots from his cock, landing in messy streaks on your bedding and your pretty pretty braid. The sight of that makes him want to cum again, and his cock twitches sadly.

He retreats upstairs to his hole and settles down again, watching you sleep next to a little piece of him.

“Dolly piggy slut,” he whispers to himself, blindly reaching for the paper in his back pockets and stroking it with his thumb. He’ll let you sleep tonight, he decides. His fun can start tomorrow.

Billy’s shaking as he dials the house phone number. He knows you’re awake, he’s heard you complaining about a missing assignment for an hour already. It made your voice sound different. You were usually so gentle and calm when you spoke, but he didn’t mind it this way either. Every whine you let out made him want to grab onto your hips and pull you onto his cock. He could even imagine how your voice would shake as he did.

He runs his finger over your name, just as he’s been doing all night. The writing was starting to get blurry, but that was mostly because of the drops of drying cum he had left. He couldn’t help himself, not when he started thinking about how you held this paper. It was almost as if he had cum on your hands. His cock twitched at the thought, but he shushes himself. He has to focus if he wanted to get this right.

“Hello?” one of the sluts chirps in his ear. Billy takes a deep breath, in and out, to calm himself. He must have been taking too long because she asks again, “Hello?”

He barks your name out to her, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Is she there? I wanna talk to her,” he stutters. A little helplessly, he puts his hand in his hair and pull on the tangly mess. This is torture, and his mouth itches like hell.

“Who is this?” she asks.

“Billy,” he says, then adds, “from school.”

“Oh yeah? What class?” the slut asks. Billy holds the phone away from his head and tries not to scream. His entire body feels itchy now, and he tries to take more steadying breaths, but it isn’t working.

He looks down at his cummed-on piece of you and reads from the top, obscenely angry, “Organic chemistry.”

“Okay, okay, calm down, buddy. Jeez, you science majors are all the same.” She must move the handset away because, when she shouts your name, he can barely hear it over the line.

Underneath his feet, he can hear you stomping from your bedroom to the staircase. “What?” you snap.

“Come on down, I have your soulmate on the line,” the stupid fat whore slut says to you. Even through his murderous haze, he likes the thought. Are you his soulmate? Could he be so lucky to have a soulmate as pretty and slutty as you? “Says his name is Billy from orgo.”

He hears you sigh, in real life and over the phone, as you thud down the stairs. “I don’t know a Billy from orgo,” you say.

“Well, he knows you. Maybe he knows who took that homework of yours,” she teases. The conversation is so tinny, and Billy wants to repeat all of it. Maybe Billy knows who took that homework of yours. Maybe Billy knows who took that homework of yours. He mouths the words to himself, rocking on his feet. Maybe Billy knows who took that homework of yours.

“Hello?” you say, and everything melts away.

“Hello?” he copies your intonation.

“Who’s this?”

“Who’s this?” He can’t help himself. Your words, your voice, your everything. He can still smell you, can still see your hair covered with his cum. You hadn’t even noticed it this morning.

“Seriously? You called me. I don’t know any Billy,” you say, and you sound angry. Are you angry at him? Billy holds onto his paper with one hand and the curly phone line with the other.

“Organic chemistry,” Billy repeats. “Billy from orgo.” You sigh, and Billy can pretend that you close your eyes when you make that sound.

“Do you need something?” you ask. Billy breaths for a moment, thoughts racing with words and sentences that beg for him to scream them out loud. There’s so much he wants to say, so many details that are on the tip of his tongue. He could go on forever on what he wants from you.

“Hello?” you say again. Billy tries, but he can’t stop the quiet laugh that finally breaks free from his mouth. “Seriously, who is this?”

“I-“ he gasps, laughing harder. “Wanna taste you.”

“I don’t understand,” you say. You sound so confused, so stupid. He loves you so much.

“Taste your pig cunt.” Again, he laughs, and his hand tightens on the coily phone line. Coily like a pig’s tail. He laughs even harder and snorts.

“Oh my God,” you say, but it’s so distant it’s almost not even there. All Billy can think about is what he needs, and he needs you, so badly he thinks he might die.

“Pretty piggy cunt. Gonna suck your pretty pig clit.” He snorts, only because the sound spills from his lips without his permission. Again, he laughs. “Pig whore slut. What’s the change in enthalpy?”

“What?” you gasp. Your breath is coming quickly and harshly over the phone. Billy moans, imagining that it’s his cock that’s drawing this sounds from you.

“Maybe Billy knows who took your homework. Pig slut. Piggy slut cunt, gonna stick my fat cock inside. Did Billy take your homework? Piggy?”

“No, no,” you panted, and Billy snorts gladly.

“My favorite pig slut. You’re gonna hug my juicy fat cock, piggy,” he promises.

“What do you want?” you whisper on the phone.

“Your cunt,” he whispers back. You’re the only two people on the entire world, Billy is sure.

“Why? Why me?” your voice is high and soft. You’re so quiet, like you don’t want the sluts you live with to know. Do you want to be Billy’s little secret? Billy laughs and gasps.

“Can I suck your clit? Can I suck your fat swollen pig clit? You can suck my cock after too, baby,” he rambles happily.

“Stop it, Billy.”

“Stop it, Billy,” he parrots back to you. “Pig slut.”

“That’s mean.” That makes Billy’s smile fall completely from his face. “Don’t call me anymore.”

“No. I love you,” Billy whispers.

“Don’t call me anymore,” you say again.

“Don’t call me anymore,” he repeats, then laughs.

“Stop it!”

“Stop it! Filthy Billy! I love you!” he shouts.

“Quit it!”

“I’m gonna stick my tongue up your cunt tonight,” he promises, and he means it so deeply, there’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll get his way.

“I’m hanging up,” you say. Then the line goes dead. Billy slams the handset down, but he can’t wipe away his smile.

Sitting on his armchair, he picks up the phone and puts it on his lap, sighing contently. Soon, he tells himself. He’ll get to taste you soon. No more pillows or panties or papers with your name. He’ll just have to keep his patience until then. Opening his hand with the paper, he strokes your name again. Soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

part ii

[takami-takami]

Hiii! I’m so happy ur doing an event I love ur writing but I know uve been busy so I didn’t want to bother u with a request!! I’m a little embarrassed tbh i don’t really request stuff very often…

Ik it’s not what u usually write but how about a domestic type situation w maybe keigo and his gf cooking together and it leads to some passionate, loving kitchen sex?

In between flicking through specialty recipes on his phone and fussing about the kitchen with a furrowed brow, Keigo's attention is focused entirely on the heaping pot of soup boiling in your shared kitchen.

Well, nearly entirely. He would be completely focused, if not for his favorite little distraction within sight.

He could easily fetch the utensils himself with a swish of a feather, but he doesn't mention that when you offer to help. Your pleading look is just too cute to deny, he thinks; and like this, you work as his second pair of hands, handing him everything he needs before he has the chance to even ask.

Out the corner of his eye, he can see you perched atop the counter, slowly swinging your legs. You watch the expertise of your own personal chef with rapt attention, and he doesn't miss the look in your eyes akin to a grade schooler experiencing their first crush. It makes his wings twitch.

"It's real sweet of you to do this, you know," you start. "I know it's a lot, you don't have to–"

He silences your protest with a lingering kiss before you have the chance to continue.

"Ah-ah, nope, want to." He waves a wooden spoon at your direction before stealing another kiss, deeper this time.

"What kind of a boyfriend would I be if Iet my sweet dove go hungry," he drawls.

The second he pulls back and you catch a glimpse of those lidded eyes, a wave of realization hits you that he means it in more ways than one.

One kiss devolves into countless. He's determined to prove his passion with each one, firm hands gripping the counter on either side of you. Your little delighted laughs spur him further, a lopsided grin forming at the corners of his lips.

"Need me, baby?"

There's no need for you to nod. Keigo knows; but you give him a sweet shake of the head anyway, if not just for show.

"Course you do..."

"But the food, what if–"

"So little faith in me." He sends a few feathers off to do the busy work as he busies his hands and attention with tending to your arousal instead. Each little hitched sound spurs him on, and as he rests his forehead against yours, he resolves to keep his love satisfied in more ways than one.

[scaras-silly-girl]

sigh, scara and kazuha brain rot comes at the worst time

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE COMFORT SMUT LMAO

cw: fem reader, comfort fluffiness, poly kazuha scara and reader

you've had a shitty day to say the least. you wanted to treat yourself and get a nice hot coffee this morning, only to spill it all over your new white shirt. of course you're late to class because of this, missing out on important notes for an upcoming test. it gets even worse when you realize you left your phone at your apparentment. and to top off all of this bullshit, you're drenched and shivering in the rain whilst walking home. fuck that weather app that told you it'd be sunny all day.

now all you want is to relax with your boys, the loves of your life. once you finally get the door of your home open, after dropping your keys many times, your anger fades away, eyes still glassy but your expression softens. kazuha and scaramouche are laying on the couch, snuggled up together as kazuha reads and scara plays something on his game consol.

"dove? are you alright my dear?" kazuha is the first of the two to notice you standing in the door way, dripping onto the floor and looking like you may break down at any moment. "holy shit what happened to you" despite his brash words, the concerned expression from scaramouche is all you need to know he's just as worried as kazuha.

you toss your backpack into a corner, taking off your drenched jacket and letting tears finally slip from your eyes. "oh honey..." kazuhas voice is soft and comforting, just like his warm hug as he comes over to embrace you. "its alright now."

"do you uh need anything?" scara asks somewhat akwardly, he's never been all that good at comfort but he does his best. "make some hot chocolate for us?" the white haired man you're curled around requests. kazuhas soft lips kiss the top of your head and you stand in his grip for a moment longer.

"lets get you in some dry clothes, dove" his voice is like a light wind on a summers day, comforting and delicate. "thanks kazu" you sniffle and grab his hand while walking through the hall to your room. a small smile crosses your face for the first time today when your handed one of kazuha's shirts, one you and scara were notorious for stealing.

you dry yourself up, squeezing the water from your hair and grabbing your favorite blanket to go back to the living room. scara awaits you there, three cups of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table while the indigo haired boy turns on your favorite movie. he gives you a small smile and beckons you over, to which you eagerly sit down next to him.

"you're alright now, babe" scara holds you close, arms wrapping around your form, a quick kiss pressed to your cheek. kazuha sits down as well, making it even nicer for you to cuddle up with your lovers. scara hands you a mug of hod chocolate, extra whipped cream and marshmallows included. "i love you" you manage to choke out "both of you, so much."

your night is the best part of that day, curled up with the people you love most in this world. "and we love you too" kazuha speaks, fondness in his tone and adoration in his eyes. "you know we do" scaramouche chimes in, tightening his hold on you. damn, this did turn into a nice day.

[speedycoffeedelight]

An Animalistic Disaster

Masterlist

A.n : So I reached my main goal of the beginning!!!! 1k in both Wattpad and Ao3 !!! Lessgoo!!!!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Thank you everyone who read and liked this story and gave votes and kudos!! You guys inspire me to keep on writing!!!

As for the promised QnA. I think I'll do that once all the harem characters have joined. This type of thing won't happen much after all.

Also I promise I'm working on the next chapter. (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) till it comes, here's some songs that goes with the story/ reminds me of them. Warning, I'm shit with love songs.

I'm not going to release the full playlist yet since it contains heavy spoilers. Same thing with the Oc's.

(Y/n)'s playlist

- Fictional by khloe rose.

(The feelings the reader had since she was little. Also the type of song that inspired me to write this self insert fanfic.)

- Rat by Penelope Scott

(This describes the relationship between the reader and her dad. How she feels deep inside. Also, I dunno if this counts much as a spoiler, but her dad is an engineer, so yeah. )

- W.I.T.C.H by Devon cole

(Wether someone calls her a witch or an ogre, she doesn't care. She can handle herself and that's all that matters.

And we stan a strong queen in this household)

Alastor x (Y/n)

-Never ever getting rid of me by Kimiko gleen

(You made him fall in love, so be prepared to deal with him 24/7.

Cause he ain't going anywhere honey)

Charlie x (Y/n)

- Adore by Mindy gleehill

( And here she goes, singing again. But this time it's directed towards the reader.

Poor girl can't control her heart around you. )

Vaggie x (Y/n)

- Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

(She knows she can treat you better then any man can.

And she's going to prove it )

Cherri Bomb x ( Y/n)

- Favourite by Isabel Larosa

(She's quite jealous of all the others stealing your attention. So can you really blame her for wanting to be your favourite?)

Pentious x (Y/n)

- Honeypie by Jawny

(He is determined to make you his and he won't stop till he does that.

He also can't get enough of your sweetness<3 )

Lucifer x (Y/n) [this is considering he gets chosen as a love interest]

- Checklist by Max

( What do you need? He's got it covered. He's going to spoil you rotten to have you all to himself.

The ruler of hell doesn't slack off in this area )

Husk x (Y/n)

- Older by lsabell Larosa

( I HAD to put this song here. Besides who wouldn't like an older man you could easily rely on?

This is basically reader's feelings about him.)

Angel x (Y/n)

- New side of me by Blake Roman

( He can't help but feel soft inside when he thinks about you. And it scares him.

He's never had anyone love him like you before.)

Niffty and (Y/n) [platonic]

- Sweet little psycho

(She's your very own sweet but psycho puppy.

Anyone disturbs you too much? Release her over them. :) )

Vox x (Y/n) [Will come in future]

-Criminal by Brittney spears

(He's our pathetic lovable criminal. You know you shouldn't fall for him, but what can you say?)

Adam x (Y/n) [ Will come in future]

- Genius by LSD

( Don't be fooled, he's no genius no matter what he might say. But he did make the correct call by falling for someone like you.

Someone who can manhandle and keep him in line.)

Lute x ( Y/n ) [Will come in future]

- Love like you

(She doesn't understand how she of all people managed to fall for you. This feeling should be a sin.

Yet, when she gets close to you, she can't regret it. )

An Animalistic Disaster playlist

- Can't sleep love by pentatonix

(I can just imagine the reader and Melody talking in phone like this. The reader can't decide what to do with all these feelings since all her fictional crushes have actually come to life AND living with her. She can't decide if she should act on it or not. Melody is already done with her shit and telling her to go back to sleep.)

- Bang bang by K'naan

( Okay, this is for my own brain rot. This is for everyone in the harem x reader. I can see the animation meme happening clearly in my head.

Every line is sang by different characters and when the 'bang' parts comes, a animal turns into human after getting hit by reader's love shot :)

Like-

She was walking around with a loaded shotgun - Angel

Ready to fire me a hot one - Cherri

It went- Charlie

*Sheep Charlie* BANG *human Charlie*

*Squirrel Cherri* BANG * Human Cherri*

*Deer Alastor* BANG * *Human Alastor*

Straight through my heart - Alastor

Maybe one day, if I learn to do animation.  I'll make something like this. )

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou

[thelaundrybitch]

Tumblr Romance - A TMNT Short

Turtle Doves.

I'm supposed to be working on my TMNT Trick or Kink, and at this point, it's not gonna be posted til Christmas 😂

Why? You ask.

Because I have an uncooperative brain that writes things like this instead.

ANYWAY...

I've given another shot at a reader x turtle one-shot in the form of Gender neutral reader and turtle of choice.

Please forgive me for any mistakes 😘

~Disclaimer~ I used a made-up blogger name in this fic (@tmnt-blogger). If it's suddenly taken, I apologize 😂😘

Also, there is a PRETEND phone number in the fic. For the love of all that is good... Don't call it ☠️😂

AND! Never go to meet someone, by yourself, from the internet that you don't know.

ok. I think that's all.

18+ content - for mature audiences only!

Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though 🤩

The Tumblr Romance

You ever talk to another Tumblr user, and just… It clicks?

It feels good… Right… Familiar…

You talk to them here and there, hoping to learn more about them, but they hold back, and keep a mysterious air to them.

And you want so badly for them to like you enough to want to call you their friend?

Yeah.

It happened exactly like that.

Another blogger had posted an unbelievable fic starring your favorite turt. The fic was SO. GOOD. They knew exactly how to portray his character perfectly. It was almost as if it was written by the turtle himself.

You just had to let the writer know how amazing their written work was and how much it touched you when you read it. You knew that just leaving a comment wouldn't be enough to show proper gratitude. You needed to DM them.

So, after typing and retyping the message about a thousand times, you hit send and held your breath. Their immediate, warm response filled your heart with joy, and you couldn't help yourself as you unleashed praise after praise about their work. Thankfully they were both flattered, and understanding after you completely ‘fangirled’ over them via messenger, and continued to talk with you. The two of you really hit it off and began to chat regularly.

🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

You had been talking to @tmnt-blogger for a couple of months now, a few days each week. The words they chose to use and how they spoke to you through DM had you absolutely captivated.

Sweet. Kind. Funny. Intelligent.

They had you completely intrigued.

You wanted to know more about them but didn't want to ask too many questions, fearing they might think you were some lunatic. So, instead, you shared some of your life with them, in hopes they would share theirs - and they did! But it was always sparingly, to much of your dismay.

You didn't want to push and seem like a huge creep. You wanted them to share only what they were comfortable sharing.

Meanwhile, you were dying on the inside with curiosity as your innocent intrigue slowly turned into a crush.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

About six months in, the flirting started.

Always innocent at first, with you messaging "goodnight!💕" and them responding "goodnight <3" to you.

It was super cute and left you hoping for more. Hoping that these feelings that you were having weren't one-sided.

Then, finally, the flirty banter rolled in… but only after you took that leap, asking what you could call them.

You: I have a question.

You: But I'm a little nervous to ask you.

Them: Ask away. Don't be shy.

You: ok. Just remember. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. And please let me know if I cross a line.

Them: must be a serious question 😉

You: What can I call you? It feels so impersonal to keep calling you tmnt_blogger. Borderline disrespectful.

Them: You can call me whatever you'd like.

You: 😑 

You: That's not how this works ☹️

Them: why not? Whatever you choose will be fine. Perfect, even.

You: Can I know your pronouns, then?

Them: does it matter what my pronouns are?

You: Well… No… I just didn't want to misgender you…

You: But that's fine. You don't need to tell me if you're uncomfortable telling me… I'm just gonna claim you and call you mine 😂

Them: He/Him. But I'm totally ok with that label 😉

Oh, the butterflies that the last message caused. You were sure he was just teasing you, but you secretly hoped he meant it.

It wasn't long after that night that he really started to flirt with you. 

Your heart was a mess with him sending you things like…

Him: alright, I'm off to bed

You: sweet dreams! 😘

Him: they're only sweet when you're in them 😉

Or

Him: How was your day?

You: work was awful. But I'm much better now that I'm talking to you 🥰

Him: I'm sorry to hear that you had a hard day. Wanna cuddle?🤗

And

You: OMG it's FREEZING outside. I just got in from shoveling snow 🥶

Him: Sounds like you need a quick way to warm up…I can lend a hand with that if you'd like 😉

It went on like this for a little over a year; until you told him you were going to NYC to visit a guy friend.

Him: Where did you meet this guy? How long have you known him?

Him: and he's a friend? That's an awfully long trip for just a friend.

You: Yes, he's just a friend. He's one of my friends from college. 

You: And I'd come to visit you! But I don't know where you live 😂

Him: What if I told you I was in NYC?

You: Then I'd definitely make a point to come to meet you!

You: I mean, if you wanted to meet, that is.

Him: Even though you've never even heard my voice? You don't even know my name. What if I'm a predator?

You: That's totally on you. If you wanna kidnap me, then go for it. You'll be begging me to leave before 24 hours are up 😂

Him: That's highly doubtful. It's more likely I'd be begging you to stay 😘

Your breath caught at that last message, and you needed a moment for your brain to reboot.

You: I could only be so lucky 😉💕

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

The next few months passed, and even though you two had started messaging daily, the topic of meeting never found its way back into your conversations with him.

Which was understandable. You were a stranger on the internet. 

But it was also extremely disappointing.

The time had finally come for your trip to NYC. You told your Tumblr crush that you wouldn't be online for the next week while you were away. You wanted to enjoy your vacation and not be rude to your long-time friend.

And that's when it happened.

Him: will you still be checking your texts?

You: LOL of course… Why?

After a long pause, he responded.

Him: (212) 555-0986

Him: That's my cell phone number. I don't want you to feel pressured into giving me yours if you're uncomfortable about it, though.

You sat there with your jaw on the floor and your heart racing. 

He's giving you his number?

You must've been sitting slack-jawed for a little too long because he messaged you again.

Him: Oh geez. I'm sorry. Did I cross the line?

You: NO!

You: Oh goodness no! I was just a bit surprised that you gave me your number…

Him: I just want to make sure you're safe. I hope that's alright?

You: 🥰

You: of course it is

You type his number into your phone and send him a quick "Hi" so he has your number.

Him: Excellent! 

You: Now you're really in trouble. You'll be getting messages from me all the time 😂

Him: I was going to say the same to you 😉

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

For the next few days, the pair of you texted back and forth like maniacs, and you were thoroughly enjoying his constant 'company.'

As you boarded the plane, he was messaging and asking ALL the questions.

Him: So, what part of NY will you be in?

You: My friend has an apartment in Manhattan, and I'll be staying in his spare room.

Him: What types of things will you be doing? Will it be just you and him?

You: I'm not sure. He said he's got everything planned out, but he's keeping it all a surprise. 

You: And yes, it's just me and him.

You: Is it alright if I ask… Are you really in NY?

Him: Yes. And I actually also live in Manhattan.

Your adrenaline was pumping. 

Maybe you'd really get to meet him. But you weren't going to hype yourself up just to be disappointed.

You: Alright. I'm on the plane, and the flight attendant is giving me the hairy eyeball. I'll text you when I land 😘

Him: Stay safe, and I'll talk to you soon, Love 💕

Oh lord. This man had your heart in his hands, and you didn't even know his name.

🤲💓🤲💓🤲💓🤲💓🤲💓🤲💓🤲💓

Your trip had been great so far. Your friend brought you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Morgan Library and Museum, and The American Museum of Natural History!

However, by the third day, he had a family emergency and needed to fly out to Texas that afternoon. He told you that he could help you pay for a hotel because you wouldn't be able to stay in his apartment. His landlord was super strict about visitors staying without the renter being present.

He apologized profusely as the both of you packed. You told him it was ok, and you completely understood.

After walking him down to the front of his building, where he gave you a big hug, he hailed a cab, leaving you standing there all alone.

*Ping*

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you opened your phone and saw the message flash across your screen.

Him: How's your day been?

You: I've had better.

Him: What's going on?

You let the tears of disappointment run down your cheeks as you poured your heart out and told him everything.

Including the fact that you now had to find a hotel for the remainder of your stay.

~Then~

Your phone rang. 

He was calling you.

"Hello?" You sniffled.

"Where are you?" He asked.

Holy shit, was his voice sexy.

"Um… I'm still standing out in front of my friend's apartment," you told him.

"Do you think you can meet me down on Elizabeth Street in Little Italy?" He asked, lowering his voice a bit.

"Sure, it's not far from here. We walked there for dinner last night," you told him as you turned to look in that direction.

"Good. I'll stay on the phone with you until I can see you," he said.

You put on your headset, so you could have both hands to pull your luggage as you navigated your way down a few blocks to get to Elizabeth Street.

"Alright. I see you," he said. "See the Laundromat?"

"Yes…" 

"Walk one more store down until you see the red staircase. Take those stairs to the top. I'll meet you on the rooftop," he instructed you right before hanging up.

Well, that's not ominous or anything.

You did as he asked and found your way to the rooftop of said building.

*Ping*

You looked down at your phone to see a message from him.

Him: I'm by the greenhouse.

Your heart was in your throat as you walked to the very dark, overgrown greenhouse.

This was actually happening.

"Hello?" You asked out loud.

"Hey," he said, still standing in the dark. 

"Are you gonna come out?" You asked him with a smirk.

"Yes, but before I do… You need to know… I'm a little different…" he warned.

"Aren't we all?" You sassed him, causing him to let out a small chuckle.

"Just… Promise me you won't freak out," he sighed, sounding extremely nervous.

"I promise," you assured him.

You couldn't stop the excited smile that danced across your face as you heard him talking himself up. "Ok… It'll be great," he said to himself softly.

And as he stepped into the moonlight, your excited smile fell to sobering shock.

There he was. In all his glory, towering above you with beautiful green, pebbled skin, huge defined muscles, and kind eyes that seemed as if they could see right into your soul. 

He stopped a couple of feet away from you, his eyes turning sad as he assessed your reaction.

"It's you…" you whispered, your shock melting into an emotional smile.

He let out a huff as a relieved smile spread across his handsome face.

Looking up at him with admiration, you took a few steps to close the distance between the two of you. Without thinking, your hand went up to touch his plastron. You caught the quick quirk of his eyebrow ridge right before your fingertips made contact with his chest.

"Oh, geez… I'm so…" you started. But before you could finish, one of his hands was around your wrist and pulling you into his arms.

"I don't mind. I promise," he said, leaning down so he could place your small hand up around his neck.

You felt your breath catch as he pulled you in tight, one hand on the small of your back, as the other came up to cradle your face.

"You're absolutely gorgeous," you marveled, looking into his eyes. 

"I think that's supposed to be my line," he teased through a chuckle as he lowered his face to yours, making you blush.

"Would it be too bold of me to ask you to come and stay with me for the rest of your vacation?" He asked, lowering his voice as he bumped his snout against your nose.

"Really?" You breathed out, lips in hopeful pursuit of his, as he pulled his head back to look down at you again.

"Really," he confirmed, dipping back down for a moment and chancing a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

Sliding your hand up to the base of his skull, you pulled him down to you.

"Is this an invitation?" He breathed out, his mouth hovering above yours.

You nodded in response, hoping he'd close the gap, but it wasn't until you whimpered a "Please" that he gave you what you wanted.

Lighter than a feather, he brushed his pout against yours.

Once…

Twice…

Three times…

Teasing you in the most delicious way and making you cling to him like your life depended on it.

His incredible restraint was killing you as he continued his faint kisses, leading to a small moan of disapproval from your throat. 

And it broke him.

His arm tightened around your waist as he pressed his lips against yours, firm and soft.  The hand that cradled your face slid down toward your chin so his thumb could pull your mouth open.

Because, boy, was he ready for a taste.

His tongue slid through your parted lips and moved against yours. The gasp he pulled from you was rewarded with a sensual moan from him and made him tangle his hand in your hair.

You pulled your body impossibly closer to him as his soft, plush lips massaged yours over and over. The way he maintained a slow, gentle pace was driving you mad.

Taking matters into your own hands, you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, earning you a primal-sounding growl.

He pulled back from the kiss, using a tiny bit of suction when he did, effectively sending a wave of desire through your entire being. That familiar warmth made its way to the apex of your thighs, creating an entirely different level of longing.

"Easy, Love," his voice was husky, as his lips followed your jawline and trailed down the length of your neck, "you're gonna get more than you bargained for."

"You have no idea what I bargained for," you moaned, spurring him on.

A pleasurable ache blossomed as he bit the spot where your neck met the top of your shoulder. Gently, he dragged his teeth closed until his lips took over and sealed the spot. Then he sucked.

Hard.

You gasped as your stomach muscles tightened while you did your best to move your thighs together to relieve some of the growing ache he was inflicting.

He ended his delightful torment with a soothing caress of his tongue on the love mark, followed by a delicate kiss.

His lips found their way back to yours, but for only a moment.

"So, you gonna introduce us?" Came a voice from behind him, "or you gonna eat your friend alive?"

He pulled back and smirked at you before turning his head towards the voice.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm going to introduce you," he said with a naughty grin.

His attention turned back to you, his grin turning sultry. And as your eyes locked, he whispered, "But I'm definitely gonna eat you alive."

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[v3nusxsky]

Hi this is off a natasha oneshot i read awhile ago. And i was wondering if you could do it w lesso. So lesso and r was doing something, chilling and then Lesso got a notification which made r see herself on the homescreen but wasn’t sure. So after Lesso denying it r manages to get the phone and run outside in the rain where Lesso wouldn’t go. R teasing lesso and Lesso threatening to change it. Just major fluff, x

It’s me

*Authors note~I do love Natasha so I hope I can do this some justice also feel free to request wandanat or Nat or Wanda x reader*

Trigger Warnings~ fluffffff

Prompt~see ask^^^^^^^

Being with Leonora Lesso was nothing like you could ever have imagined. The Dean Of Evil had a soft side that only you had the privilege to see. Truthfully, Lesso is a romantic at heart, she wanted you with her all day, every day but also can't show that vulnerability to anyone outside of the relationship. When you were alone her favourite pastime is to let you lay in between her legs as you either read or played what she deemed "silly" games on your phone.

Of course Lesso had a phone, technology was advancing and despite her not liking the idea you'd convinced her to "get with the program." You'd taught her the basics that she would need to focus on and then left her to it. It should be private unless Leonora wanted to show you. You knew she was a private person so it made sense to respect her own privacy.

During some chill time on a beautiful Saturday afternoon you were happily reading your e book on your phone with a message lit up Leonora's phone. The red head was relaxing with her fingers in your soft curls and her eyes closed, "can you check that dove?" She murmured to you. Of course you did as your girlfriend asked you to do, only to be met with a surprising canid photo of yourself sleeping as her lock screen. There you were no filters. It was purely you in all your beautiful glory. Not that you saw it that way, yes you had Lesso as your lock screen but that was because she was absolutely stunning of course.

"You think I'm pretty! You love me so much you want to see me all the time" you teased the red head loving the slight blush that covered her cheeks, she'd been caught. "I can always take it off you know?" Was all she could retort back knowing her own feelings would be fully exposed and out there. "You won't cause you loveeeeeeeee meeeeeee" you teased giggling before coming to sit on her hips and steal a kiss. "It's okay Leo because I love you so very much. My cute Dean" you mumbled before pressing sweet kisses all around her face. "I" kiss on the nose, "love" with a kiss on her forehead, "you" with a final kiss to her lips. "Let me show you how much Leo."

Word count~ 516

[tg-headcanons]

I was wondering, how are Michie and Seina handling Seidou's new... quirks, lets say. Do they use less scented items in the house? How do they feel about his kagune? Does he scent them? Do they know he's dating Amon and Akira and if so, how do they feel about it? Learning that your family member is suddenly a ghoul must come with lots of questions and concerns

That poor fuck and his poor family❤️

After getting Seidou back in his new form, Michie and Seina have a steep learning curve. They don’t want to lose him, not after already thinking he was dead, but getting good information on how ghouls work is hard, so they’re mostly relying on Seidou to tell them

Unfortunately, Seidou is a prideful little dipshit who will not be up front about anything he has decided is weak, embarrassing, or weird, so it took awhile for them to get anything useful out of him. For awhile he was just snappy and jumpy and stressed a lot until they got him to admit that the air freshener is overwhelming and it’s stressing him out. When his mom responded without belittling it and just removed it from the wall, he accepted that he’ll need to be honest about his weird shit. He’s been trying to bring things up in a very casual way to not freak them out, but it’s hard to nonchalantly slip in “haha yeah also don’t come in my room if I’m asleep because sometimes my kagune come out on their own and they’ll try to tangle your legs”

Michie is definitely very afraid of him being found out, she’s lost him once and she won’t do it again, so she’s incredibly thorough about keeping curtains closed and avoiding the CCG. She knows about Akira and Amon (I mean once your mom is cool with you being a cannibalistic monster you may as well tell her about your bisexual situationship) but generally does not want them at her house. She’s sure they’re nice people, and they’ve been good to seidou, but she can’t kick the fear that if they come over, other doves will notice and figure it out

Seina is taking it in a weirder way. Her brother apparently came back from the dead as a ghoul and once getting past that shock and the horror of what made him that way, she started asking a lot of questions. It’s kind of invasive and uncomfortable but it balances out Michie’s careful doting and tiptoeing around difficult questions. For every intentionally avoided comment from his mother about his red eye, there’s an equal and opposite interaction from his sister where she asks him if he can regenerate infinite teeth

They have a big Dont Ask Don’t Tell policy about his diet. They all know what he eats, but they don’t talk about it. Anything else though? That’s fair game, especially when it’s obvious. And once the wounds weren’t so fresh and they could joke about it, the jokes came in droves. Seina teases him for purring when he plays with the dog, if he leaves his kagune out Michie will pile any of his used cups on them or dump his clean laundry on them to make him go take care of that. The family teasing has mutated to incorporate his weird ghoul shit

Seidou is not innocent. He is an older brother and come hell or high water it is his job to be annoying. Seina has had to get very good at avoiding being tripped because he loves tripping her with his kagune. He is swiping at her legs constantly. He is picking her up with them and putting her in Air Jail. He is stealing her phone out of her hand and putting it on top of the fridge with them. He is a menace but they’re closer now than they were when he was in the CCG

[murdermepeacefully]

Billy Lenz Headcanons

Working on my first Dead Dove fic ever, and figured I'd do some headcanons for the lovely canon character in it~ Most of them ended up on the spicy side, so....sorry about that!

As before, these are of course my own personal opinion, but feel free to reblog, add onto them, ask questions about them, or add them to the ones you accept yourself! I absolutely love hearing from others on their thoughts.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Things based on the movies: Note: While I know the movies do not all feature the same Billy, I do pull from the 1974 film as well for some of these.

Definitely has a thing for eyes in general. [Think imagery, eye contact, etc. Tends to notice someone's eyes before anything else]

Collects false eyes due to this. [Especially antique ones or ones with unique designs.]

Not a huge fan of Christmas time, but can still enjoy some parts. Definitely likes the lights, cookies, candy, and Santa Claus parts, but not the tree or gift giving parts.

Doesn't stay in childhood home, but instead moves to random houses. Can end up in non-sorority houses as a result.

Prefers the attic wherever he ends up, but absolutely finds a way to sneak around the entire house.

Tends to go for older houses so any creaking from him moving through the house can be excused as just 'the house settling'

Things based on Fandom content and interaction:

Keeps his collection of fake eyes in a jar and shakes it like marbles, but will sort them by color, style, or other categorization method if he wants to just focus on something for a while. [Thanks to @fingersinmyhair for this one! 💕]

Carries one in his pocket if he goes out as a comfort item.

Wears PJs/PJ-Adjacent clothing a lot. [Think sweat pants and oversized sweaters/sweatshirts]

Random Just Because Ones:

Very much likes drinking in the scent of those he's infatuated with/curious about.

Likes to steal little things from them to put in his hideaway.

Spicy ones 🌶️🔞

He absolutely loves biting/licking/drinking the blood of partners, during sex or not.

He will lick the bite if you show signs of it hurting, as if in apology.

He gets turned on by being the one in control/on top.

If you're fucking you best believe he's fucking you hard, pulling your hair to arch your head to the side so he has access to your neck and shoulders for biting and leaving marks.

Likes pulling his partner's hair in general tbh

ABSOLUTELY would give you a necklace of bite marks along your collarbone

Will mastrubate using your clothes if he can get away with it [Prefers shirts/dresses/etc to underwear, however, so he can imagine he's fucking you while you wear it.]

If there is an anti-breeding kink, he has it.

He does not like being on the bottom, but on the off chance that he is, it's a much softer, sweeter sort of fucking. Lots of gentle reassurances and kisses and the like, more nibbling than full on biting. Likely works out a signal for his partner, be it a word or a gesture, for when he wants to top and start speeding things up.

Hardcore into sexting/phone sex, but absolutely expect him to jerk off while on the phone with you or send video of him doing it.

Would absolutely get one of those O ring gags that force the wearer to have their mouth open, especially if their partner is a drooling, whimpering mess while wearing it.