#re: the bad thing

[eoieopda]

reckless serenade (kth)

i’ve been trying to figure out exactly what it is i need // called up to listen to the voice of reason // and got the answering machine

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader Type: One-Shot - Sequel to The Bad Thing drabble. Summary: Your husband hasn’t looked at you in months, but his co-worker, Kim Taehyung, can’t take his eyes off you. Word Count: 4K, with 2K+ being smut, lmao. Content: SMUT - 18+; Taehyung's POV; infidelity; reader's husband really is just The Worst; oral sex (m and f receiving); multiple orgasms; face-sitting; penetrative sex (p in v); tbh it doesn't explicitly state whether it's protected or unprotected sex, so??; moral quandaries; Taehyung gets his own fucking warning tbh. A/N: This Taehyung is back by popular demand. This picks up where the drabble left off, so go read that if you haven’t! Actual note and tags are at the end :)

You’d returned to the table separately, several minutes apart, to quell suspicion.

As it turned out, the subtlety hadn’t been unnecessary. Nobody batted an eye when Taehyung sat down after a prolonged absence; and, as expected, your husband’s lecherous gaze hadn’t left the waitress long enough to find you missing. So, when you’d slid back into the seat at Taehyung’s side, no one knew your dirty little secret.

Secrets. Plural.

Park Ji-won might never know that you’d just orgasmed thrice, only a few meters away behind an unlocked door. Or that Taehyung’s orgasm was still lingering where he left it, staining the inside of your little lace panties. Or that the wedding ring he’d bought for his pretty, young bride was still in Taehyung’s pocket, rolling between the fingers that now knew you inside and out.

Definitely not that you’d left that ring in Taehyung’s possession with the promise of retrieving it after dinner — if you even wanted that tacky thing back in the first place.

When the bill came, Taehyung’s co-workers — your husband included — whined like petulant fucking children that the twelve bottles of liquor they’d consumed were fully accounted for. Out of habit, Taehyung glowered and turned to see how you were reacting, only to find that you’d done the same.

There was a wry smile tugging at your lips when you whispered, “Well, well, well… if it isn’t the consequences of their own actions.”

He’d snorted into his glass of water, watched his life flash before his eyes, and — thankfully — managed to swallow down his laughter before he could choke on it.

Is this the personality your husband misses out on, listening to everyone but you?

Taehyung, keeper of the company’s black card, bowed to the waitress as he handed it over. She’d smiled at him — the first genuine one he’d seen from her all night — and scurried off to close out what had likely been one of the worst shifts of her life thus far.

Normally, he’d feel the same: eager to leave and get the fuck away from the ghouls he already spent too much time with. So annoyed by their lack of manners and restraint that his rage would carry him out the door, to his car, and home again without either foot seeming to come in contact with the ground. He’d levitate this time, too, but for different reasons.

Instead, Taehyung flew home on thoughts of you. He’d replayed the way you shivered when he pulled your chair out for you and helped you into your coat. Like a rose petal in his palm, so fucking delicate, he’d carried the memory of your hand bumping innocently against his on his way out the door. And as he drove, he thought of what you’d said under your breath.

Am I a consequence of your husband’s actions, too?

Taehyung has been home for two hours now, and he still doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. 

He doesn’t bother turning on the television; he’d never be able to focus on whatever would end up flashing across the screen. He doesn’t pick up one of the many books in that untouched, yet ever-growing pile on his coffee table. His gaze keeps flicking hopefully towards his front door, as if staring at it with intention will manifest you on the other side. 

What if you changed your mind? What if you'd been caught out? What the hell was Taehyung supposed to do with your wedding ring if you never came back for it? 

Fuck. Shit! Motherfu— 

His catastrophizing is cut short by a quiet knock on the door. Three shy taps in quick succession, they mirror the way Taehyung’s heart is thudding against his rib cage. He ignores the anticipation turning cartwheels in his stomach as he pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to you. 

Even though you’d announced your intentions earlier, Taehyung is still semi-shocked when he opens the door and sees you standing on his doorstep. The look in your eyes tells him that you’re surprised, too. At yourself, maybe, for following this rabbit hole down to the bottom. Or at him, because he hadn’t used any of the past two hours to change from his suit into something less stuffy. 

You did change, he notes immediately. You’ve traded in your dress and stilettos for active wear; and Taehyung really might die now, jealous of leggings that smooth over your curves like water. It’s the comfort that really has him fucked up, though. The hair in a loose knot on top of your head, the barely-there stain of pink on your lips now that your lipstick has been discarded. 

“There you are,” He hums with a tilt of his head. There on his doorstep; there in real time; there in what he can guess is your usual state. Fucking perfect. “Wasn’t sure if you changed your mind.” 

You cross your arms, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, and tilt your head just the same. “I didn't,” you breeze, “I was conducting an endurance test.” 

“Oh?” Taehyung chuckles softly, “Do tell.” 

“I wanted to see how long I could tolerate sitting home, alone, without even a texted excuse – and without going out of my mind.” 

“Two hours? Impressive.” 

“Forty-five minutes,” You correct him, eyes twinkling, “I just got really, really lost on my way here.” 

“Even more impressive.” Taehyung grins as he opens the door and steps aside to invite you in.  

You slink through the gap; and he can’t tell if the way you brush against him is intentional or not. Then, you toe off your sneakers and leave them on the mat next to the door. You look up at him, but he’s still looking at your shoes.  

Plausible deniability, he realizes. Just in case tonight is the first night that your husband cares where you are — out on a run. 

Taehyung pushes the thought away, tears his gaze off of those Nikes, and refocuses on you. Ignoring the million things he wants to do to you, he nods up the hall to his kitchen. “Care for a drink? I’ve got an incredible bottle of Bordeaux from Pomerol.” 

“Just one bottle?” Your tiny smirk weakens his resolve even further. If he didn't love these little exchanges so much, he'd be worshipping you by now. “Not twelve?” 

The most perplexing thing about you isn’t how quick-witted you are. Taehyung’s seen it in every conversation he’s ever had with you; and he waits patiently for it, every time. The twist is how subtle you are with your little quips. Perfectly understated, they’ll fly right under the radar of anyone who doesn’t expect them.  

Does your husband even know to look?

He leads and you follow until you’re both standing in his kitchen. You take in your surroundings while you nibble thoughtfully on your bottom lip. Taehyung digs through a poorly organized drawer for a corkscrew he’s not sure he even owns.

Now, he’s nervous. This is the part where you find out he’s not a wine guy. He spent every step here praying that you wouldn’t ask him a single question about that Bordeaux because he couldn’t tell you a goddamn thing about it — except that it was a gift from a client, and that he hadn’t opened it because he prefers beer. 

You, on the other hand, enjoy wine. If you do end up drinking at the firm events you attend, that’s what you choose. While your husband is off somewhere, drowning in hard liquor, Taehyung is laughing with you and your glass at a table. When the night’s over, he replays the sight of your tongue darting out over your lips, collecting the excess maroon that lingers when you pull your glass away. 

Taehyung can’t point out Pomerol on a map and, as it turns out, he can barely operate a wine-opener. Thankfully, you have your back turned and your eyes fixed on the wall calendar full of shit he intends to blow off. You don’t glance back at him until, with a pop, he finally yanks the mangled cork from the bottle’s neck. 

Before he can turn to the counter and grab two wine glasses from the rack hanging overhead, you’re already on task. On tiptoe, reaching up, up, up, you let out a frustrated whine when you still come up short. On instinct, Taehyung steps into the space behind you. You lean back against him while he secures one glass in each hand; he feels the heat radiating off your body and nearly drops them.

Not that he would mind.

It’s so hard to give a shit about this wine with the curve of your ass so near to his dick, but he’s a better host than he is a co-worker, so he slips away to pour you a drink. Once he’s finished, he holds yours out to you.

If he were drunk by now, he could’ve blamed it on the alcohol, but he swears there’s a faint crackle of electricity when your fingertips brush against his. 

You close your eyes and inhale through your nose. “Mmm,” you hum appreciatively, eyes re-opening to blink up at him, “Smells incredible, doesn’t it?” 

Taehyung has no fucking clue because he forgot to fill a glass for himself. He doesn’t care if you notice, either; he’s too transfixed by the sight of your lips parting as you bring your glass to your mouth. You take that burgundy in, the column of your throat bobs as you swallow, and he’s waiting for it – waiting for it – waiting for it... 

It’s such an innocent action, the tip of your tongue swiping over your lip, but it sets off something primal in him.  

Bordering on feral, Taehyung sets his still-empty glass back on the granite surface of the island and takes four, wide steps to you. A little gasp tumbles out when his hands claim your waist, but it isn’t surprise. Pupils suddenly blown wide, it’s want that prompts you to discard your drink beside his and tangle both hands in his hair. 

Though he’s wanted to for years, this is the first time Taehyung has ever kissed you. It’s carnal. You kiss him back, and it’s all clicking teeth, whimpers, and desperate, clinging fingers. Insatiable, too, and it tastes like fancy French wine.  

You’re starving for it, he knows, and you whine when his tongue leaves yours lonely. That pout could convince him, without a word, to rob a bank at gunpoint.

Who the fuck would leave you home alone? 

“Angel,” Taehyung pants, locking eyes with you. He runs the pad of his thumb over your flushed cheek and feels the way you shiver. “I’m not above fucking you in this kitchen, but after fucking you in a public restroom, I think you’ve earned a bit more comfort than that.”

“Oh, fuck – just like that, angel. Shit!"

You’re on your knees between his spread legs with his throbbing length down your throat and your hair flicked over your shoulder. It’d all spilled from your top-knot a while ago, and Taehyung remains thankful for the shitty construction of that elastic band. Now, he has some part of you to hold while the rest of your body is out of reach.  

Every instinct is telling Taehyung to throw his head back against the pillow – with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth hanging open – but then he’d miss the way you keep looking up at him under dark eyelashes. Wet eyes blink as your ravenous mouth works magic, and goddamn, this talent has been going to waste for years. 

If he lets your ministrations continue, he’ll be dead long before he can pay you back – with interest. Buried before he can thank you properly for your service with his face between your thighs. So, Taehyung swallows hard, cards his fingers through your hair, and gently guides you off of him. 

He’s committed a lot of sins in the past six hours, but interrupting your medal-worthy exhibition feels like the worst of them. 

Your voice is a bit hoarse from how much of him you’d taken and how’d deeply you taken him. Wiping at the spit that slicks your chin, you look self-conscious when you rasp, “Is something wrong?” 

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head firmly though most – definitely not all – of him feels like gelatin. “Fuck no, sweets. That’s why I have to stop you.” 

Sitting back on your knees, you pout, and he melts. He’s already spent too much time wondering how your husband can leave you on the sidelines – but that was before Taehyung knew what face you make when you don’t get your way.  

Goodbye world, he thinks. He’ll never get out of this bed as long as you’re in it.

He beckons you with a curl of his finger, wholly unprepared for the ramifications of his decision to do so. Now, you’re straddling him, hovering overhead with your face mere centimeters away from his. You lean in when he cradles your jaw in his hand. So sweet, you smile a little when you feel the tickle of his breath warm your lips. 

“Ride me.”

Taehyung can’t help himself; he’s nearly pleading. You smirk and move your hand down towards the cock leaking all over his stomach. He reaches out, taps under your chin, and stops you in your tracks. You burn pink when he clarifies, “Not there.” 

This idea has you frozen in place. Worse, there’s a speck of anxiety blooming in your eyes; and Taehyung doesn’t have to guess why. He’ll add this to the infinite list of ways Park Ji-won has fucking failed you. 

Taehyung was already propped up on his elbow, but now he sits up fully to meet you where you are. “Hey,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your chin before kissing you, “Only if it’s what you want. For what it’s worth –”  

Fuck, you look so shy.

He kisses you again. “I want you to fuck yourself on my tongue –” And again. “Until you’ve taken back every orgasm –” Another kiss, and you whimper, “You’ve been deprived of.” 

When Taehyung’s eyes flicker back to yours, there’s a new sense of determination burning in your irises. Even better, there’s a brief twitch in your jaw as you place your palm against his bare chest and push him back down against the mattress.

You’re a force of nature every day of the week, but as you crawl over him, it’s the most powerful he’s ever seen you look. 

Your hands take hold of the headboard as you lower yourself down towards his mouth, which is already watering at the mere thought of tasting you. Pausing with your slick center just out of his reach, you glance down at Taehyung. He tilts his head to the side, nips playfully at your inner thigh, then soothes the sting with a slow swipe from his tongue. 

He doesn’t say a word, but you hear him, nonetheless. Keep going. You do, and you both groan when his mouth meets your cunt.

Finally.

Tongue teasing at your clit, Taehyung’s hands on your thighs pull you down harder. He refuses to accept the shyness keeping distance between you. No, he demands your full weight; all of you.  

Angel that you are, you acquiesce and grant permission for him to devour you fully. Taehyung can’t hear you keening over the suckling, slurping, and panting, but he can feel it in the way your thigh muscles clench around his head. 

His name rings out clear as a bell, though, right before your whole body begins to shake. 

“F-fuck!” You squeak, crumpling forward.  

Taehyung suspects that your orgasm is too heavy to face sitting upright, but whatever the reason is, it’s bringing your fluttering cunt closer and closer to him; and he has no plans to stop at one. Spit-slicked and gushing over his mouth, the way you begin to grind against him says that you aren’t tapping out, either. 

It’s a start, but he wants more from you. To coax it out, Taehyung pushes his fingertips deeper into the flesh of your legs and pleads with you to give him everything you have. You listen – so fucking well – and drop one hand from the headboard to grip his hair.

Yes, he screams inside his head. Use me, angel, just like that. And you do, rolling your hips against his mouth, tugging at his curls until he feels that incredible sting at his roots. 

You come a second time with his tongue darting inside your hole, nose brushing against your clit. Insatiable, both of you, he forces out a third before those aftershocks can even subside. 

Taehyung gasps for air when you wriggle away from him. You’re equally out-of-breath when you collapse sideways onto the bed and rest your trembling body against his. When he turns his head to look over at you, he expects to find you with your eyes closed, fully spent. Instead, despite your fluttering eyelids, you stare right back at him. 

The way your fingertip traces soft spirals across his chest has his brain spinning, too. For reasons he can’t explain, that delicate touch feels infinitely more intimate than the million ways he’s touched you over the course of the night. It’s the most at-peace he’s felt, too, but you throw a curveball to keep him on his toes. 

“Not tired already, are you?” You tease with a devilish grin before placing a kiss on his bicep. When he laughs incredulously at you – you minx – you keep those little kisses coming until they're trailing up the curve of his shoulder. 

Taehyung is a firm believer in showing, not simply telling. Catching you completely off-guard, he rolls over until you’re pinned beneath him, head caged between his arms. Your surprise left you in a gasp, but the shock has already given way when he ducks down to nibble at the side of your neck.

You moan when he nips at your earlobe; you miss the way he smirks against your skin because your eyes have fluttered shut again. Who's tired now? He growls low from his chest to recapture your attention, “How do you want it, beautiful?” 

Everywhere, all the time, like I do? 

Taehyung suckles at a spot below your jaw, and he doesn’t give a fuck if your husband finds his calling card. You don’t either, it seems; you whimper and roll your head to the side to increase his access. 

You keen as you place your hands on his shoulder and dig your nails into his skin, “Dealer’s choice, just – please fuck me.” It sounds close enough to a cry when you continue, “I need you inside of me – now.” 

How could he ever say no when you beg like that? 

Your poor thighs have been through enough, so Taehyung keeps you where you are: nestled underneath him with your heaving chest brushing against his with every breath. You spread your legs to create space for him, then cross your ankles behind his back when you feel his tip tease at your entrance. 

He has to fight to keep his eyes open when he enters you; unwilling to miss a second of the way your mouth falls open, even though you’re too vexed to audibly moan. He’s not – not yet, anyway – and he can't keep quiet when your wet heat envelops him.  

Slowly to start, Taehyung grinds against you, pushing his cock further into your cunt until he’s buried to the hilt.  “Holy shit,” he grunts.

You’re dripping. There are rivulets of you spilling over his length, coating him all the way down. Still, your walls grip him tightly enough to dot stars behind his eyelids. Squeezing, daring him to move but fighting him as he tries to leave. You’ll milk him dry, sooner rather than later.

“I’ll never get over this – could fuck you every day, and it wouldn’t be enough.” 

Whimpers spill out of you as he continues to rut against you, stretch you open for him. Your nails dig half-moons into his arms, and they sting, but Taehyung wants every single souvenir you’re willing to give him. He’d archive every touch if he could; play every mewl of yours on a loop, and savor the way it feels when you orgasm around his cock. 

“So, don’t stop,” You pant, gripping his jaw and pulling him close enough to kiss. Against his lips, you repeat your demand, “Don’t ever stop.” 

Taehyung is still trying to determine which version of you has him most fucked in the head.

He thought it was you and your little, black dress and heels. The version of you that followed the man who took your wedding ring into a public restroom; fucked him; and then left without your ring.

Then, he met the version of you that dresses down for clandestine, extra-marital dick appointments. A dark horse, certainly, but then there's the one who wore nothing at all; who shook, and cried, and came all over his face.

The best thing, he realizes, came last.

It's you in his crewneck, towel-drying your hair in his bathroom while he brushes his teeth. You, saying you'll stay – just this once – because you know for a fact that your husband never came home. You with your chin resting on his chest as your sleepy gaze struggles to focus on him.

Taehyung had figured that you were too tired to speak, so you startle him with your voice; even more so with the deep frown working its way over your face. With how much you shrink when you say, "I think I'm a bad person."

"Why, because you're here?"

You nod. His heart drops, though not because he didn't expect this. Rubbing gentle circles into your back, Taehyung inhales, deep in thought. There's a lot he wants to say, but significantly less that he can even begin to articulate. He can't say the quiet part out loud, even though it's screaming through his skull.

Maybe if your husband was a good person, you wouldn't be where you are right now. Maybe if he loved you, he would be home to notice that you weren't.

He tries his best, sighing, "I think people are a lot more complicated than that."

This thought catches your attention. Your chin digs into him slightly as you tilt your curious head to the side. Cute.

He continues, "I think we're given a hand of cards – some of them great, most of them shitty – and we do our best to play them well. You know, to the extent that we can."

"Do you really believe that, or are you trying to make me feel better?" You smirk, playfully tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

Taehyung exhales forcefully through his nose and tucks a runaway strand of damp hair behind your ear, "Does it matter?"

tagging: @borahae-k @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @mgthecat @btschimeyplanet @jihopesjoint @jaejoontrashpanda @taebaelove @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @jkoofier (couldn't tag) @bbyorchid (couldn't tag) @persphonesorchid @sncx3 @hersheytheekiss (couldn't tag) @iammisstora @quarter-life-crisis2 @here2bbtstrash @dvalitaes @1dsn @iadelicacy

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likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

A/N: So, by now, you've noticed that the original drabble and this fic are both in Tae's POV. I did not want to tell the reader how to feel about this. I wanted it to be as open-to-interpretation as possible, and I really, really, really wanna know what y'all think about the thing I didn't clarify: Do you think (1) they actually have feelings for each other; (2) Taehyung loves the idea of her and feels like he's "saving" her; (3) Reader just wants to be wanted, for once; or (4) it's a combination of things? HMMMM.

[hexedwithluck]

old sedusas :3

[b4kuch1n]

study of this masterwork

[butterfilledpockets]

Know Peace, but take no shit.

previous ---- part 8 ----- next

masterpost

I decided not to split this into two parts (which is why it took a lot longer than the other updates) because it is very action heavy

please please bare with me with the robots- I swear there is a reason

would you guys be interested in their ref sheets?... perhaps?

REF SHEET FOR ROBO DUDES

[baselicoc]

is it gay to be chained up with another man while you have a very important mission to save the presidents daughter. what if you say no homo

[leroibobo]

really do not think people understand the extent to which palestinian sites/landmarks (especially muslim ones) were destroyed, beginning in 1948 until now, even in cities. the oldest extant mosque in jaffa (al-bahr mosque) was built in 1675, even though islam came there in the 7th century

[indiefilmfatale]

watch you want me

gif by gil-rizzo ^ plot: you want to watch steve get his rocks up without touching him at all content warnings: graphic language, masturbation, voyeurism (reader watches ooh), dirty talk, all the good things word count: a/n: had a visceral dream about this and could not stop thinking about it all day send smutty steve asks pleeeease!

“You don’t wanna, like, touch me or anything? You just want to watch?”

You bite your lip, almost too horny to be embarrassed. “Yeah. I think it’d be hot.”

It’s mid-morning. A rare moment where both of your schedules result on a day off for the two of you, but you were basking in it. Laying in bed all morning, falling in and out and back into sleep, adjusting into different cuddling positions until you finally decided to wake up. And even when you did, you just spent the time talking and laughing with your head resting on his bare chest. Eventually the conversation drifted into bored fantasies, drawing your finger over his chest and twirling the small hairs ever-so-softly. “Well are you at least gonna touch yourself?” Steve’s eyes dot down your body for just a second. You’re wearing a white tank top and a pair of his boxers that hug your curves perfectly. It’s his favorite outfit on you.

“Mm-mm,” You hum as you shake your head, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

Steve sighs, “Okay, I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?”

You chuckle at his awkwardness, then peel yourself off of him to rest your head in your hand, elbow propped up on the pillow next to him. He adjusts his stature, relaxing himself into place.

“Do- Do I just,” He waves his hand around, as if he’s never jerked off before. You grip his wrist and guide it down under the sheets, where his bare cock rests flaccid. He often slept naked, swears by its comfortability but given how many times you two have fucked in the morning, you assumed it was for accessibility reasons. Less fabric to get out of the way.

When you see him grip himself, you let go, arm resting on your side. He starts slow, just sort of rubbing himself until he’s half hard. You grow impatient, gripping his wrist again until his hand rests below your chin.

Your eyes stare back at him as he watches you drop a wad of spit into his palm. He’s instantly erect, licking his lips and clenching his thighs. “That’s all the help you’re getting from me, Harrington.” You say as you wipe your lip.

He swallows, lowering his hand once more. The new slick of his fingers does wonders, moving his hand up and down his cock with a steady pace. “What’re you thinking about?” You casually bring the hem of his bed sheet down to his mid-thighs, giving yourself the full view of his strokes.

“Mm, your tits.” He’s already panting.

You anchor your fingers around the neckline of your tank top, lowering the shirt so just enough cleavage protrudes. “Oh, you mean these?” You lightly rub one of your nipples through the fabric.

“Mm hm, yeah.” He’s so incoherent, which makes you only want to get more words out of him. You want to know what dirty thoughts find their way into his brain when he’s at his most vulnerable.

“What would you do with them? If you could touch me…”

“Put them in my mouth, your perfect fucking tits. I’d— I’d suck on your nipple, put my hands all over you. Fuck.” His strokes are a little faster now. You can see a spurt of pre-cum drip down his cock, and you have to hold back your own hunger to suck on the mushroom tip until it turns red. You can practically taste him.

“What if I fucked you with them, hm?” Your voice has gone soft and seductive. “Put your fat cock between my tits and let you fuck them until you came all over my face?”

“Yea…” He whispers, eyes darting between your own eyes and the nipple that you’re pinching between your fingers. These lovely hums keep coming from his throat.

“Will you come for me, Steve? Will you let me watch you cum over that perfect torso of yours?” Your fulling massaging your tits now, feeling a warmth in your core that aches to be filled for him.

“I wanna cum for you so bad, fuck.” His strokes are even faster. “Are you wet?”

“God, I’m soaking, Harrington. I want you to fuck me so bad.” You can’t help but bring your hand down to where his boxers meet your vulva, pushing against the fabric until you feel the cotton against your clit. You lean forward, your lips against his ear. You can see his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps, breathing shallow and desperate.

“Imagine how it feels to fuck me, Steve. Imagine my cunt is squeezing and throbbing against your cock as you fuck me into oblivion. Legs shaking around your hips, cumming and cumming and cumming as you keep fucking me. Whining and moaning into your ear.” You lick his lobe, and he grunts sweetly as his brows curve upward in pleasure.

Your speech blurs into moans, almost pornographically spelling it out for him as if he’s fucking you right now. “Mm, you feel so good inside, Stevie. Fuck, it hurts. Cumming over and over again as you pump your big fucking cock inside of me. But don’t stop, baby, please don’t stop. I wanna cry over how good your cock feels, mm-hm,”

His mouth is agape, eyes squeezed shut as his orgasm approaches. “I-I’m gonna cum, oh god, I’m cumming.” His voice reaches an octave only reserved in these visceral moments of pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby. I wanna see you cum.” You whisper one last time. He groans as his cock spills cum down his hand and onto his happy trail. His shoulders tense and twitch, his neck tense with veins protruding. “God, fuck…” He moans, keeping his hand tight around the tip until the last drip gushes out.

You rub his chest firmly, a proud smile plastered onto your face as his body relaxes next to you. “That was so good, Stevie.”

He sighs, hand falling onto his hip and head tilting lazily toward you. Your nipples are still hard under your shirt. “Can we do you now?”

[frankengrlz]

bride of re-animator, basically

[the-mathmatician]

You get 5 days behind in re:Dracula and suddenly you have 4.5 hours of audio to listen to

[eyndr-stories]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote/drew and tag as many people as there were words (or however many you want to tag).

Hi @trees-can-draw!!! Thank you for the tag :] <3 I've been getting back into the Monty centered fic i started writing ages and ages ago dfhkjgfhjf (which is actually why i'm up at , 5am ,, ahem anyways)

"The repairs had gone well, and even with the social nightmare they'd agreed to looming on the horizon, Lark felt a sturdy sort of comfortable feeling deep in their gut that had settled in like a home cooked meal."

I do not know as many people as there are words for this fkjgfhkgf so instead i will shrimply tag @shirajellyfish, @victarin, and @lavenoon (very no pressure tags, feel free to ignore <3)

[witherbythesword]

if the theory of sam reich being replaced by .. evil wizard dalton reich (and i cant believe i am partaking in this discurse) is true..

i've seen some people asking the question about what those childhood tapes mean. Well i am one of the ancient ones that owned vhs tapes and you know you could replace whats stored on those tapes with overwriting it with new material but it would slowly degrade the quality as the magnetic tape the information is stored on isn't necessarly made to be re-recorded on indefinetly which would also explain the degrading quality of the gamechanger episode.

So my theory is that dalton reich wants to erase sam from history and to do this he is slowly erasing any proof that could hint on sam and dalton being two different people. One thing he appearantly needed to do is overwrite these old vhs tapes of sams childhood.

[lemony-snickers]

"you are the only one who's ever broken me open."

"do not scream god's name, scream mine."

"please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

"your heart is beating so fast." "because i'm happy."

"i want to draw a map of your scars so i can always find my way back to your heart."

"i don't believe in such nonsense." "i'm not asking you to. i'm simply asking that you believe in me."

"is that good? that's all i want, to make you feel good."

"it reminded me of you. but then, sometimes i think everything reminds me of you."

"what a fragile thing, that love can so easily turn to violence."

"why are you doing this?" "because i love you."

"it didn’t feel right when I was always thinking of you."

"i would have felt like the luckiest person on the planet."

"are you gonna take that off or should i keep guessing?"

"i wanted this to be special."

"i can't believe... after all this time... i should have known it would be you."

"i want to be wildly, deliriously happy.  wildly, deliriously loved."

"i try always to be too much for you."

"the sooner i leave, the sooner i will return and we can begin again."

"i didn't die." "you were dead to me."

"i don't care if other people see us together, you do."

"and you say i'm the one who should be resting."

"i'm sorry." "for what?" "that you got stuck with me."

"what makes you happy?" "lots of things." "and what makes you unhappy?" "lots of other things and some of the same ones."

"i wish i could give you the world." "the world is not enough. but you are."

"i have never needed anything so much as i need you. and i hate you for it."

[cinnamonsikwate]

"why couldn't shuro have just been honest about what he felt with laios and falin it's not that hard" are you. are you White

[stringyoualong]

The boypussy art is having an small peak. Heres an remake i made some time ago so just i can throw this somewhere

[aroaceleovaldez]

yknow, i've said before i don't know what my favorite Nico scene is cause i like a lot of them, but i think the top two are probably Nico being introduced with "You can take your great army and shove it up your ass" and him killing Bryce Lawrence and the line of "That word ['please'] didn’t make sense to Nico. The Underworld had no mercy. It only had justice." because those two lines are core tenets of Nico's character to me.

He will tell his first monster to go fuck themself as a ten year old actively being kidnapped and he operates on a moral system based on the laws of the Underworld, not based on mortals. and that is so fascinating.

actually this is a lie the third top Nico scene is in BoTL, Nico's conversation with Minos where Nico goes "You're talking about murder" and says Murder Is Bad and Minos says "You'll learn differently as you get older." purely because that to BoO when he kills Bryce - character development. He's okay with murder now. Interesting that Minos was correct. Love that for him.