#suggestive content cw

[araedi]

FMK: sinister strange, strange supreme, zombie stephen’s corpse

(plot twist: K is for kiss, not kill :3)

Easy: marry the zombie, I doubt it would matter to them and you mortals have that whole “’till death do you part” nonsense. Kiss Sinster – best not to linger too long with that one – and I suppose that means…”

“Let's play a different game, anon.”

[with apologies to @arroganceandfear ]

[compassofsouls]

For Yule, Loki sends Clint two gifts. One is a delivery of a none pizza with left beef. The other is the god himself, sitting quietly, muzzled and cuffed as he had been in 2012, but with enough room for his hands to greet Barton in the ASL he has learnt. *Merry Christmas*

Despite his bemusement, Clint still makes a point of chewing on one of the left beef slices; dry as it is, he's gonna finish the damn lot because he's no quitter.

As he does so, he regards Loki with raised eyebrows, drawing out the satisfying moment for a little while more. Eventually, setting the pizza box down, he crosses his arms and smirks. "Now, where should I begin, you think?"

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Sweet Dreams - Part II

Previously

#Vavoom Sweet Dreams

[yanderestarangel]

tio miguel o'hara au

art cr: @/Andalusia_lu-

TW: EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, STEP INCEST, OC MIGUEL, MANIPULATION, VIOLENCE, ALCOHOL, DARK THEMES, TRAUMA, GRIEF, BROKEN MIND, DUB CON, NON CON, POWER PLAY, HARASSMENT, GN READER, THREAT, PAIN KINK, DOLLFICATION, NSFW, BREEDKINK.

˖⁺ ⊹୨ notes ୧⊹ ⁺˖ no negativity please. If this isn’t your sort of content you’re more than welcome to block me and move on with your day.

I just wanted to make a definitive AU for my version of "Tio" Miguel O'Hara ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

[PART.1.]

♡ ┆Tio Miguel is your non-blood uncle who is thirty-five years old, his skin tanned by the hot midday sun accentuates his body and he has greater muscle mass than most men of his age; brown hair usually combed back and dark brown eyes that seem to penetrate your soul.

♡ ┆ He arrived like a hurricane in your life and that of your family, right after you moved to another quieter place in the Mexican city, practically a rural place where Miguel lived just a few meters away on a large farm, isolated from curious eyes.

♡ ┆ You had a grandmother who already lived there and she introduced the previously unknown man to you, saying that he was Miguel O'Hara, a close neighbor who always came to visit and was always nice to her, practically a son for the older lady. The tall Mexican man helped your family unload the moving truck, he was the first to approach like a silent plague and the target was always you, since the first time he saw you he had felt something more like his life had meaning again.

♡ ┆ Soon he began to frequent your house, being a friendly and solitary gentleman keeping everything from his past between his teeth despite the entire reception of his family with his persona. You, on the other hand, saw how he always seemed to look for you regardless of the situation you were in, even asking you to call him "Uncle" and that was when it all really started for both of you, the demand to be called that was subtle but already functional that even your parents told/demanded that you respect the man as someone in the family and in a short time he was already an influential and feared member of your family.

♡ ┆He is almost always seen dressed in ranch clothes or dress shirts and jeans - punctuated with cowboy or work boots, most of the time they are expensive fabrics that are not compatible with the minimum wage he receives for his work as a caregiver of farms or livestock. He is occasionally seen wearing a shabby brown suede cowboy hat.

♡ ┆When you ask him about his profession he just smiles and uses the same excuse that he got extra money from some competitions he won at the local bullfight ─ and the mysterious gain is not only used for his own use but also to buy gifts for you, he is not afraid to manipulate or seduce you with monetary gains to capture your attention and keep it, if you want something he will give it to you without thinking twice just to keep you for him, whether for his money or by making you afraid. Miguel secretly ran the underworld of drugs and smuggling but he would never tell you that and he would rather die than for you to discover his source of money in reality.

♡ ┆He always uses affectionate and possessive nicknames with you, like 'Mi vida' 'Mi angelito' 'Mi carinõ'; practically like a passionate lover would do or even he would grab you and hug you, touching you in different places and leaving a trail of heat wherever his fingers passed, even though he was your uncle he would treat you like a possessive companion would.

♡ ┆He drinks a lot, his favorite drink is expensive and pure whiskey. He also becomes almost predatory when he's drunk, often coming into your room on celebratory nights and whispering dark promises to you ─ you've seen him kneeling at the side of your bed as the warm alcoholic breath comes from his thick lips, phrases like: "You will always belong to me", "anyone who dares to come close to you I will kill them.", "I will never let you slip out of my hands, my precious angel." Or even the secret desires to use your body escaped his lips on those rare nights when the drink overcame his stoic and cold demeanor.

♡ ┆Most of his cold behavior is the result of the fact that he never had children and also due to the death of his late wife, killed by a fateful fate that he refused to talk about. He tends to be extremely rude to everyone but he tries to be as gentle as possible with you, even though it can be scary at times. He is domineering, impatient and quick-tempered, looking for your company during family outings or parties. Miguel will manipulate you by saying that his behavior is normal, saying that you were his family and he was just trying to make your bond grow and he will also manipulate your family to sweep away any complaints you may make. from the carpet or say that you were being dramatic and if you try to return his advances he can be extremely rude and easily hold your body, whispering subtle threats like: "You don't want to see me angry, do you, angel?" While leaving your wrists marked red from the force he had put there.

♡ ┆He doesn't let you have boyfriends or girlfriends, if you dare to have a partner he will do everything to make your parents stop this relationship. Even if you are an adult he will do everything in his power to make your life hell if you dare to leave him for a random person. Most of your relationships ended mysteriously because your dear tio used his influence in the underworld to threaten your partner. It will also alienate you from friends or acquaintances, a useful way to maintain control over yourself.

♡ ┆He always invites you to his farm on the weekends, always with the promise of some expensive gift or comfort from all the weekly stress. If you accepted (through free and spontaneous pressure from him) he would spoil you and always spend exorbitant amounts of money on you. If you have problems with your family, he will convince you to leave your home and talk to your parents to let you stay with him in his house for an indefinite period of time. Your Tio I planned to make you his perfect future companion, submissive and untouched by the evils of the world, a husband/wife so he could have a real family again, even if he was your uncle.

♡ ┆He tries to make you sleep with him several times, be it with monetary gains, manipulation or breaking you to the point that you throw yourself into his arms because he thinks you won't get anyone to love you like he does. During sex he plays the role of a tough dominant, often treating you roughly and likes to use your body to vent his frustrations. Miguel will choke and bite you, marking your neck and shoulders with painful, red bites, - even hitting you if you try to struggle or struggle against him, whether it's slaps to the face or butt making you whimper and become more still and controlled in his control. He uses his greater physical experience and constitution to hold you back if you try to run. Your Uncle likes to fantasize about getting you pregnant and making you a perfect little doll for him, he fills all your holes with his semen. He can spit in your mouth, hit his dick on your face, giving you hickeys on your neck, strong bites, or cumming on your face and recording everything afterwards to threaten you if you don't want to accept his marriage proposal later.

[demonictacobeard]

Lilith, surprised when Adam’s contact picture shows up on her phone: Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re supposed to be dead aren’t you? I felt the deal break months ago

Adam, who got sick of his and Lucifer’s UST last night and made a move: I mostly lived bitch, I just had to ask YOU PICKED THE BORING ASS BEACHES OF PURGATORY OVER SEX WITH THAT MAN FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

[vale-n-tina-and-the-internet]

I have this headcanon that Husk's little golden hearts cand conduct energy/electricity, even if the only things he can actually affect are the dice and cards of his own summoning

On everyting else is little more than mild-barely-there static, but Angel loves its more... recrational uses. (They don't indulge often in that kind of play though, because static absolutely wrecks Angel's fur)

[2-dsimp]

ngl if Lynx said "fuck" since he did a mistake or something I'd say "me pls"

Security A: “SHIT NOT AGAIN, WE NEED MORE BACK UP—“

Security B: “But sir we’ve already got eyes on him, why do we need more hands on deck?”

Security A: “No, not for Lynx. You dipshit but for his favorite VIP fan yknow the one that’s being mauled by him right this second!”

Security B: “OH FUCK! why didn’t you say that earlier sir?! Attention Beta Squad, immobilize tranquilizer team effective IMMEDIATELY!”

[ilovejuzi]

So juziful

[catcze]

Boxer wriothesley making out with you after a fight

16+ !! Suggestive content !!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Wriothesley x GN! reader

「 ### : 」 Fluff, some suggestive content & mentions of sex but nothing actually 18+. Modern au !!

「 CWS : 」 Written pre release so potentially ooc !! Light mentions of injuries. making out 🥴. established relationship. Hand holding & hair pulling. Wriothesley lifts you up at one point and is so down bad. Wriothesley calls the reader sweetheart and baby. Reader wears perfume. Author knows jack shit about boxing and has never watched a boxing match so please excuse any and all inaccuracies

I got this ask and blacked out i saw red i was caught in a whole TRANCE do not perceive me i lost my sanity as i wrote this because the feelings that overcame me at the thought of shirtless, post-fight Wriothesley who shines w/ sweat and is full of post-match adrenaline was too much for my mental capacity to bear

The route to Wriothesley's locker room is one that you can navigate with your eyes closed— a confidence born from familiarity. Every time after a match, whether he wins or he loses, you always find your way from your front row seat to the door you stand before now. The first few times, he had instructed his managers to come pluck you up from your front row seat and escort you, but now the staff just bring you as far as the backstage security clearance, leaving you to find your own way.

You knock on the hard door twice, giving it a moment, then enter—

— and you're immediately swept up into Wriothesley's arms, a startled yelp escaping you as you clutch his shoulders on instinct.

"Hey, sweetheart," Wriothesley murmurs, pressing his nose to your neck while he holds you aloft, your legs tightly around his bare torso. He breathes your perfume in once, twice, like he can't get enough of it. "You enjoy the show?"

"Wriothesley!" you gasp, trying to tug free of his hold, gripping his hair and trying to pull him off of you to no avail. He stubbornly melts even more against you, pushing your back further against the door you came in through. "Put me down! You should be resting right now, not-"

"Not enjoying the fruit of my victory?" he teases against your neck, his tongue licking up the skin, making heat pool in your belly. Your shiver does not go unnoticed, and you can feel the quirk of his lips where they're pressed up against your neck. "'m fine, baby. Already got checked out and everything. Just need to go home and get some ice, that's all," he reassures you, pressing kisses to your neck and the side of your face, his hands squeezing your thighs appreciatively as he keeps you pinned up against the door.

You relax against him then, glad that he's mostly fine. The match had been over quick, anyways— it hadn't dragged out long enough for him to get hurt too badly. He had definitely walked away in much better shape than his opponent, at least.

The hand in his hair stops trying to tug him away, instead pulling him closer. You scratch his scalp and untangle little knots in his hair while he takes his fill of lathering attention onto your skin, making him purr delightedly in between leaving marks and bites wherever his mouth can reach.

When he adjusts his hold on you to free one hand (there's a zing in your veins when he effortlessly holds you up with ease) so it can play with the edge of your shirt, you reach down to pull it away, weaving your fingers together instead.

"We can't fuck in your locker room," you tell him resolutely, a frown on your face. "You have an interview when you go out and your managers will have your head and mine if you go on air looking like you just smashed."

He sighs but acquesces, pulling away from your neck to level his face just a few inches from yours. "Just a kiss, then. That okay?"

You nod and he's on you in an instant. With the short time you both have, Wriothesley hardly dawdles as his tongue traces along the seam of your mouth, instantly dipping in when you grant him entrance. There's a sigh from you and a low groan from him when his tongue meets your own, and he squeezes your hand that's still connected to his.

Wriothesley bites down on your bottom lip, making you gasp and pull him harder against you by his hair. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed against yours, the sweat on him making him stick to you. Fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, his thumb drawing shapes you can't make out in your kiss-fueled haze.

His tongue licks the inside of your mouth, sighs of bliss transferring from his mouth into yours. "You're so good to me, baby," Wriothesley mumbles against your lips, eyes half lidded and something hungering behind them.

You can't even bring it in yourself to speak, tugging him closer once again because in that moment he is focusing too much on speaking and not enough on kissing you. He chuckles at your desperation, but gives in to you as he always does, letting himself be dragged further into your embrace.

Fuck it, the words are on the tip of your tongue. Fuck the interview. Put your hands under my shirt kiss me somewhere else—

Knock knock.

Like a gunshot, your eyes fly open at the interruption and you hand jolts, accidentally pulling on his hair too hard and making him hiss when he detaches from you. "Sorry, sorry," you murmur to him, pressing a fleeting peck to his lips. Now, it is your turn to bury your nose into his neck.

"You good in there?" The voice of his manager comes floating through the door, muffled. "The interviewer's been waiting a while by now, you know."

"Right, right. Be out in a bit." He hopes his manager doesn't realize that his voice is far too close to the door than it normally should be.

Wriothesley has to stifle a dissatisfied sound, maneuvering you off the door and gently placing you down on the bench in the room, mindful of the way your legs shake. A gentle kiss is placed to the crown of your head, then to the back of the hand he holds before he lets go.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says in a low rumble, voice deepened from the makeout. His lips are swollen from all the kissing— you hope people attribute it to his fight instead of a post-fight makeout. "Sit tight here, I'll come back for you when I'm done."

Then that hunger reappears in his eyes and his smile gets the slightest bit sharper. "We'll go home and continue where we left off. I promise."

[araedi]

Did you and the other original avengers ever bang out your differences for team building exercises? Every fanfic writer from 2012 wants to know.

[jooba]

cheater x reader p2

“I hate you.”

TW: MDNI, noncon, abusive relationship, kidnapping, cheating

wordcount: 2,381

Read the First Part.

The new house was, admittedly, beautiful. It was a two-story cabin with large living spaces and a freaking hot tub. There were goofy inspirational signs in every room and a welcome mat with an adorable little dog on it. The house overlooked a giant hill littered with beautiful giant oaks and a vast landscape that seemed to flow for miles. If it wasn’t for your current situation, you would probably be in heaven. But it was hard to enjoy the peacefulness of the woods when Emery was always agitated at something. Hard to enjoy the warmth of the hot tub when Emery’s touch chilled you to the core. Hard to feel anything but fear and sorrow, really. 

You aren’t really sure where the house is located, but you know that it is definitely off-the-grid. Screaming for hours certainly didn’t bring any heroes to save you, and you hadn’t even seen any paved roads. Alone. Alone with Emery. Being kidnapped wasn’t turning out to be as fun as fiction made it out to be. Emery was controlling, abusive, and switched emotions at the drop of a hat. A complete switch from the sweet, passionate man you thought you loved only just a few weeks ago. 

The only alone time you got was either when he’d let you bathe unsupervised or when he’d lock you in a windowless room for hours. And even then, you felt riddled with anxiety. You just couldn’t escape him! You especially couldn't escape his damned touch. It seemed he felt it was his mission to be touching or using you at all times, almost in desperation. Disgusting. Every time your skin touched his skin made you want to rip the affected area off and rub yourself clean. How had it gotten this bad? How had you let such a monster into your life without seeing the signs?

“Oh god beav, you make me feel so good.” The monster whimpered as his slimy cock slid between your thighs, just barely nudging your clit with each thrust. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling your hips back to bump his. His favorite position: both of you on your sides, him behind you pulling one of your legs up to better accommodate his width. Used to be one of your favorites too. Now it just made you feel sick. 

At least this morning he didn't jump to splitting your pussy open without any prep. Your body seemed used to his touch and usually responded quickly and easily: it was a struggle not to react. But this morning, even as he rubbed your clit furiously and whispered promises in your ear, you didn't get wet. To his frustration, of course. So he decided instead to pleasure himself with your thighs. His thrusts are growing heavier and sloppier, and you began praying for him to finish quickly. Just let today’s hell finish quickly. 

He says something too low for you to understand, and then one of his hands snakes around your neck suddenly; too suddenly for you to react. You immediately cry out, hands flying up to claw against his forearm. One of his new quirks is to grab you by the neck harshly, and the bruise was there to prove it happened much too often.

“Emery, please!” You cry, struggling against his hold. It burns! He grunts in your ear, slamming particularly hard against you. 

“Fuck, I love seeing you like this. Yesss, wiggle against me like that~”

Another cry escapes you, but you stop struggling. Just try to hold on for a little bit longer. 

“Monster.” You whimper, hating the feel of your tears burning down your face. You hate letting him see you like this. And as he thrusts one last sloppy time, you close your eyes and think about your sister’s smiling face. He can never take the bright memory of your relationship with her away. And that's what gets you through most nights. 

The both of you are quiet as he turns you on your back and spreads your legs. You watch through half-closed eyes as he smiles at the sight of his hot cum splashed on your thighs and lower stomach. He huffs through his nose before bringing one hand down to lay flat on your stomach. He paints around your belly button with his cum, twirling and drawing designs that quickly dry into brittle droplets. You can’t contain the jerk of your body as his fingers suddenly poke at your clit. You clench your jaw as he gently swirls his fingers around the numb. 

“You’re wasting your time,” you promise with a whisper. He doesn’t stop to acknowledge your words except to rub you harder. He rapidly swirls your clit around his thumb, pinching you painfully. You grimace and jerk your hips back, but he’s quick to follow. The rubbing only gets rougher as your body refuses to cooperate with him. Your anxiety gets worse as you see the frustrated clench of his brow become prominent. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He growls after a particularly rough pinch.

“Ah- it hurts!” you groan before you can stop yourself. 

Emery flinches back, seeming surprised. You pull your legs up into yourself quickly, trying to avoid bawling in front of him. He watches as uncontrollable twitches take over your body, your face clenched painfully and avoiding his gaze. He sighs as he gets up, heading over to the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. This isn’t how he wanted to day to start. He wets a washcloth with warm, soapy water before heading back into the room where his love is. She is still curled on the bed, except she has pulled a blanket up over her. She flinches when he pulls the blanket back and stops breathing when he cleans her skin with the washcloth. It's when he lifts her legs to clean the back of her thighs that she speaks once more.

“I hate you.” Her voice is small and weak, but it hits Emery exactly where it hurts. He clears his throat, not responding to the statement as he pulls away from her. 

“Come on out in a bit, I’ll make some pancakes.” He tosses the washcloth into a corner somewhere and pulls on the smooth robe that his mother had bought for him as a Christmas present last year. Neither of the two say anything else to each other as Emery pads out of the room, both feeling exhausted. 

It’s been some time, and Emery has only let you go outside a handful of times. Of course, the first time he did you ran for your life but got caught and punished only an hour later. Your mind seizes as you think of it, so you’ve been “well-behaved” every other time he let you out. The landscape was truly idyllic and soothed your mind just a bit. The best part, undoubtedly, was the hot tub

The sun was just lowering over the horizon, sending rays of light over the treetops in the most spectacular fashion. The rippling bubbles of the hot tub relaxed your body and mind nearly perfectly, if only it weren't for the presence of one Emery Arning, lounging in a chair nearby sipping a beer. He was wearing swim trunks but hadn’t gotten into the tub to join you, thankfully. You faced against one side, arms propping your head up. You couldn’t actually see Emery at the angle but his energy was overwhelming. 

“Do you want anything to drink, beaver? I could make you some lemonade.” 

Ah, tonight he was eager to please. After last week’s fiasco, he has been even more clingy and eager to please. You refrain from responding, as you have been. You can tell it frustrates him that you’re giving him the silent treatment but something inside almost feels broken. 

“Your shoulders look tense, I can give you a back massage.” You force yourself to relax, slouching into your arms even more. His bottle clinks as he sets it down. 

“What about some music? I bet some classical would be nice right now.” 

And on and on he goes. You just wish he would get the message and leave you the fuck alone, but you know that won’t ever happen. You’re lucky he hasn’t exploded on you because of your behavior yet. 

“Beaver, do you remember that time we got invited to your friend's birthday party?” You can’t help but wonder where he's going with this one. 

“She had a hot tub, like this one, and we snuck out of the party to try it out.” 

You’re tensing once more, realizing exactly what day he is bringing up now. The two of you had slinked away, stripped to the nude, and sucked face in her hot tub without her ever knowing. It was an embarrassing memory, and it used to make you feel excited and flustered. A few moments pass as neither of you says anything. You straighten up and turn until you meet his eyes.

“I sucked your dick under the water, remember that? I nearly choked but it was fun, right?” A small smile lights his (stupid) handsome face. He seems extremely pleased you responded to him finally.

“We used to do a lot of crazy shit…” He sighs wistfully. You straighten up even more. 

“The friend who had the hot tub, that was the same one you cheated on me with right? I bet you fucked her good in that hot tub too.” Your words come out much more venomous than you intended, but you remain firm. His smile immediately drops and he opens his mouth, intending to respond. You don't let him. 

“I wonder, did you push her underwater to gag on your dick too? Bet it felt real good, huh baby? Got two bitches to plug up their mouths with your oh-so-heavenly cock?” You’re almost surprised at how vulgar you are, but it feels good to fucking finally let it out. He rises to his feet, hands raised in surrender. He looks panicked and the sight pleases you immensely. He steps towards you.

“Anything I did with her was nothing like what I did with you, I promise! I told you already, she doesn’t matter. She was just a replacement while you were gone!” 

You stand up and dodge his reach, splashing to the other side of the tub.

“Don’t touch me.” You breathe heavily, watching him for any more sudden movements. He looks ready to leap at you. God, you hate this. You hate this!

“She told me everything, Emery. Fucking everything.” You’re lying, but by crumple of his face, he doesn’t realize. 

You laugh fakely to hide the shaking of your legs and say, “None of that matters, but I just don’t understand why we’re parading around this house like newlyweds when you don’t love me. Why try to talk to me like you care and bring up old memories like any of it matters to you? What the fuck are you even getting out of this?” 

At every word, every new accusation, he sinks further and further into himself. He brings a hand up to his chest, clenching at his skin.

“None of.. None of that is true,” he sniffles. Pathetic. “You think I don’t love you?” His eyes meet yours, and in that moment he looks more broken than you’ve ever seen him. “Jesus, if I had known… Beaver, I love you more than anything else! You have to believe that.”

You’re reminded of the sniveling man who told you he wanted to wed you and have kids with you: the man who said all he wanted to do was protect you. And then you remember how he choked you until you fainted. And how he fucking kidnapped you. You’re not sure what you believe, but you know that while agitating him is satisfying, you are more than likely to get hurt. His eyes widen, watching as you slump to sit at the edge of the hot tub. After hours in the tub and a sudden heart-racing confrontation, the heat feels like too much. Your skin feels cold, clammy, and burning hot all at the same time. Dizziness causes you to sway.

“I hate you,” you say, refusing to not get one last cut in. 

As slow as a turtle, Emery lifts a leg into the hot tub, inching closer to you. You can only watch warily. 

“I love you,” he says and smiles weakly.

Finally, his hands rest on your shoulders, where he helps you out of the hot tub and into a chair. You feel weak, but you can’t stand the sad look on his face. You loll your head back and stare intently at the stars slowly appearing in the orange sky. You ignore him as he pats your body dry and brings a cup of water to your lips. All the while he coos at you and says things like, “Shhh, I’ll always take care of you.” and “That’s it, just relax.” 

His hand gently wraps around your chin, alarmingly close to your neck, but he coos away at your flinch. He brings your head down to meet his eyes and smiles soothingly at you. It’s easy enough to ignore the tear tracks on his face. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, and he lightly squeezes your cheeks until you're pouting. 

“That’s m’ girl,” he whispers. 

You’re tense as he leans in, his eyes closing. No. He hasn’t kissed you since-!

His lips are warm and smooth like you remember them. He was always a good kisser, and you can’t help the way you melt into him. He nudges his nose against yours, and the kiss becomes deeper and passionate. His other hand wraps around the back of your neck, but you don’t even notice. It’s only when his beard tickles you slightly that you pull away. He watches with a glazed expression as you gently touch your lips, smiling just slightly. The rush of happiness that flows through you feels good, but there's no way it’ll last. He lets you push him away but remains close as you try to process what just happened. And as the sun finally disappears into the horizon, you feel more lost than ever.

[bitesdigitalcircus]

Just dropping in to share with you a mental image I think you’ll greatly appreciate; Caine using his hat to try and hide the fact that he’s got a raging hard-on. 👀

SUGGESTIVE! ⚠️⚠️⚠️ (I CAN FINALLY DRAW THIS RAHHHH)

Uncensored ver on Twitter! ;]

(All characters are 18+ and consenting! The Anon character is a parody of kogito from Twitter x3)

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Oh Lordy!

Something silly and saucy for the @goodomensafterdark smut war!

and it's even tame enough for tumblr! look at that!

(go to reddit or Patreon for the... other stuff. *wink wink*)

[dottcre]

misc collection of thoughts + drabble for yandere!reader x dottore

cw: suggestive, gn!reader, yandere themes, possessive and easily jealous reader, violent reader (not towards dottore), violence, death

i think he'd try to fuck you up on purpose, because aside from also being insane, he's a little shit. with the knowledge that you're in the room, he'd let people get close, get touchy with him

possibly a yan x yan relationship

he definitely knows about your extreme possessiveness and uses it against you, be it to tease you or try to get you to comply to his whims

thinks that you get more interesting (attractive, with a side of scary) when you're angry

if you're on the shyer/more reserved side, he'd coax the horrible thoughts out of you with the sweetest words in a tone that barely sounded like him

in short, he's insane and you make each other worse

“who was that?” your tone was cold, catching dottore off guard. he had just sealed a deal that would benefit him greatly, though the representative of the other party was extremely... warm. both their attitude and their skin. the way you looked at him made him shudder, and he knew he was in trouble. 

“no one.” he was lying through his teeth, and he knew that you knew. your eyes narrowed, and he knew you were in a bad mood. he really shouldn’t egg you on. 

he really shouldn’t.  

-

dottore woke up the next day, body wiped clean but sore all over. his limbs were bound together tightly, and he was sure that the marks they left would take long to heal. seeing the back turned to him, he assumed it was you, but when his skin came in contact with "yours", he was sure it wasn't.

dottore flinched back from the corpse, reeling at how unexpected cold it was. he's ended enough lives in his time, but waking next to a corpse was a new one. as he zeroed in on the other party's face, he realized that it was the business person from just yesterday, expressionless and devoid of the warmth yesterday. he was disgusted, not just disgusted, really. nauseated. all he wanted was to squirm away from the bed, far away from the body.

"like your present?" you sounded satisfied at his disgust, and dottore's wide eyes found you in the darkness of the room. you were grinning, though there was still anger in it.

downright insane.

"i figured i should spoil you some, and since you seemed so interested in that whore, i've brought them to you," you voice dripped with faux sweetness as you stood up, walking over to the madman, rendered helpless by your ropes and work. "don't say i never do anything for you."

dottore didn't know what to feel at that moment. scared? excited? gleeful even? he couldn't deny that he loved this shade on you. afterall, he was partially to blame for turning you into a monster like him. he didn't lean into your touch when you cupped his cheek, but let the pleasant sensation sink into his skin.

"get acquainted with your new friend, dott. i'll be back later." you didn't spare a second glance at him as you left, the room plunging into silence and darkness, and as disturbing as it should've been to him, the scientist was more preoccupied by the throbbing between his legs.

[spro-o]

CW: kinda suggestive ig?? intentions are wholesome, trust /gen

anyways, Melban/Elilaine qpr brainrot my beloved :3c

[natsmagi]

she just wants to show her affection 😔