#* unintelligible screaming and sobbing *

[drizzledrawings]

I would like a 4-hour youtube essay on charles

I think I could talk about Charles for 4+ hours straight

I could record it and post it on YouTube

#it would screaming and sobbing and making unintelligible noises

[chromimis]

❝ TIL’ YOU DROP! ❞

— SYNOPSIS : classic overstimulation with jjk men.

— TAGS : gojo/geto/choso/toji x reader, smut, p in v, fingering, squirting (geto’s), size kink, dacryphilla, hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cursing, all lowercase intended !

☆ GOJO SATORU

“ a sight i’ll never get sick of…” gojo snickers to himself. taking in the sight of his sticky cum that he plastered on the display and dips of your back. some ropes of cum trickle from your spine to the crack of your ass.

his cerulean eyes then travel back to your small body; shaking from the aftershock of your orgasm. “ tsk tsk, hope yer’ not too fucked out for me…” his big hand made home on your hip, while his other tapped your swollen mound with his tip.

all senses came crashing back to you when he slowly, but surely stuffs himself back in the expanse of your cunt. “ satoru…” your kiss-bruised lips grunt out. every nerve of your body felt like it was alive and blazing on fire.

sticky fat globs of cum trickles down to the base of your plump ass to your thighs and everytime satoru’s sharp thrust align with your body; a loud sticky ‘ pap’ sound resonates loudly throughout the room and his ears. impossibly turning him on even more.

“ haah, t-turning me on even more. think you can handle five more rounds after tis’?” one of satoru’s legs are propped up, so he’s able to maintain his rhythm and dive into your pussy even further. creating more of an absolute mess out of you.

“ mmph— oh fuuuck! i—it’s too much, s-stop!” your body moves on its own and one of your legs fly up to slap satoru in the ass. but gojo’s firm hand slides down to still your ankle against the bed, while the rocks of his hips doesn’t stop even for a moment. grounding you completely on the bed so you won’t think to run away.

the feeling of him stirring your insides up and leaving your brain a mushy mess is enough to fill your clouded eyes with salty tears. a particularly wet sob catches the man’s attention, and he lets your ankle go to tug at your hair.

“ you crying on me, princess?” his cocky voice booms above you, and through your unintelligible sounds your mouth makes, you beg him to shut up. the bed jostles and creaks with every mind shattering thrust he gives you.

you couldn’t contain yourself any longer, a particular thrust of his has your vision brightening and you cumming on all ten inches of him with a loud scream followed by you collapsing on the bed. despite your body tapping out on him, satoru’s pace didn’t rest for second, but his lips curled down into a faux frown.

“ we gotta fix that stamina of yours, princess.” he pouts at your body twitching from the overstimulation and rocking under him with every push of his hips. despite his expression, he fucking adores the sight of you helped underneath him, and at his will.

his nails dig deep into the fat of your ass, before he rocks you and the headboard forward with a loud moan. satoru comes a lot. if you weren’t on the pill, it would be no doubt that you’d be pregnant with a good handful of his children by now.

“ hey, yer’ not sleep yet? guess we can do another round.”

☆ GETO SUGURU

“ s-stop! suguru, stop. it’s— ’s too much!” you’re words are punctured from your throat with deep gasps and moans. a tight pressure builds in your lower stomach with every electrifying thrust suguru gives with his fingers.

your nerves feels as if they’re on fire and your body desperately screams for a break. but his arm shows no signs of stopping or slowing down; muscles flexing, hair messily sprawled around him, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth.

“ gonna squirt f’me yet?” suguru asks, the evident of your past orgasms trickling down his forearm. every movement of his fingers feels more alive than the last, and every touch against your g-spot has your vision brightening and the coil in your stomach tightening.

his fingers curling and thrusting are the only thing that your mushed brain can comprehend. “ h-haaah, it’s dirty… m’ gonna- gonna piss!” your hips tremble, but suguru’s hand is braced firmly on your waist. his pace doesn’t relent.

his fingers easily glides in and out of your wet, gummy warmth easily. your moans and the uncontrollable actions of your legs increases; still so sensitive of the last orgasms suguru gave you and the ones to come yet.

“ we’ll take a bath and clean the bedsheets. hmm?” he sprinkles the dips of your collarbone in lighthearted kisses. that damned unhinged grin still plastered on his face. you grab desperately onto his hair, eyes fluttering back into your head and mouth hung open.

“ fuh— fuck!” your hips still along with your legs when you feel your pussy spray like an open faucet.

“ there she goes. told you, you could do it.” he eyes the beauty of your fluids going everywhere, your thighs contracting and twitching from your post-orgasm.

your slick arousal is everywhere. his arm, your legs, the bedsheets, everywhere.

he gives your wet cunt a soft spank before licking the rest coating his hand. through your weakened state, you watch him.

“ proud that you can keep up with me, baby.” he removes his now spit coated fingers with a loud wet pop sound. “ think you can still squirt on my cock?”

☆ CHOSO KAMO

“ h-haah. c-choso— baby, don’t think i can do it. ‘s too much!” you hiss out. you both fucked multiple times before, but to say you’re fully used to it, would be a stretch.

“ that’s it, baby. fuuuck, k-keep rocking your hips like that.” choso said, completely ignoring your desperate pleas to stop. his calloused hands traveled down to plant firmly on your hips, holding you in a way in which you can’t escape.

“ jus’ for you, cho.” you mutter out, before the action of you bouncing up and down on his lap increases viciously. the sinful sounds of your skin clashing down against his, all eight inches of him stirring up your insides, and both of your sweet moans combined together, sounded like a erotic song that choso would never get tired of hearing.

“ yea… that’s right,” he occupied his finger with the task of drawing tight circles on your twitching clit. he smiles in realization when you choke out a wet sob. “ just for m-me. all f’me.”

“ cho—mmph, choso!” your mouths hang ajar dumbly, nails planted firmly in his pecs; using him as the only thing holding you upright despite your weak knees. the way how your body trembled and shook, choso could tell you were close to passing out.

“ hm, that won’t do…” choso darkly mutters out before his hands resume their place on your hips. his grip boarding on painfully but your mushed brain can’t dwell on the pain. his feet planted securely on the bed, and his hips thrust up to meet your bounces.

the new depth of his dick molding your insides; kissing your cervix sweetly sent you on the brink of tears. “ ohh fuck! ‘s too much— i can’t, i can’t!” you babble out, salty tears rolling down your cheeks proving your pleading.

despite your desperate cries; you still bounce and down on his cock with his extra help. the wetness from pervious orgasms and his hips jerking up made the process easier yet still so unbearable. “ you can. like you said, it’s just for me.”

your eyes meet in deathly lock and from the way his pace increases you suspect that he’s close. “ squeezing me so tight… shit, ‘m so close, baby.” his hips growing sloppier by the minute. desperate to bring you to the high you deserve.

and with one more mouth watering thrust of his tip that he delivers against your g-spot; you come on him with a choked moan. your body goes slack against his but choso is not too far behind.

“ don’t tap out on me now— oh god.” you feel his dick twitching viscously in your warm walls. you feel a great warmth flood your insides and leak out onto your inner thighs and on his pelvis. your stuffed so silly of him.

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“ toji— m-move! jus’ came!” you gradually panted out before swatting his hand away from your lower body. you feel his dick twitch eagerly inside you.

toji fingers tighten against your throat as a warning, before he manhandles you into a mating press.

you gasp at new feeling of him entering you even deeper. “ f—fuck you! damn… tyrant!” toji leisurely grins above you. and from the new angle; the lighting traces and enchants his sharp features even more. “ you already are,” he begins to snap his lower hips against your thighs.

“ ‘nd from the way this dirty cunt is clenching on me so tightly…” he dips his head down to where his scarred lip brushes against the shell of your ear. “ you fuckin’ love it, sweetheart.” his words sends hot pangs of pleasure to your heat, mostly accompanied by the sharp thrust of his hips.

toji can feel his own dick twitch inside of you. you’re so fucking tight— milking him tight and holding him snug deep inside. the lewd sound of him slamming inside of you resonates in the room, but the fucked out dumb look on your face is obscene.

“ tuh— toooji!” is the only thing your brain can comprehend. with your mouth hung open and eyes rolled so far in the back of your head. “ yer’ close already? tsk, barely broke the bed on this good pussy.” he says, deciding to completely ignore the evidence of your past fluids mixed together on the wrinkled sheets below.

toji’s broad body envelopes your smaller one completely. the sight of your feet on either side of his shoulder is the only sign of life underneath him.

your legs twitch, your wall spasms around toji, sucking him in and in and in. his sharp eye notices the bulge of your belly and with his calloused pressing down on it, is enough to come over the edge with a shrill cry.

“ haah, you seriously came without me fucking your clit?” he barks out a cruel laugh that echoes in your ears. and you desperately want him to shut up.

through your heated gaze you notice his abs contracting and twitching— a signal that he’s coming close. as if the bruising grip on your hips didn’t serve as an reminder either. “ fuck girl… ya’ really drivin’ me crazy…”

his sweaty bangs press against your equally sweaty forehead while he forces himself deeper in your inviting heat. and before you know it, cum trickles deeply inside of your body, the creaking and his groans in your ears are loud and the only things you can focus on before he slots his body on yours with a sigh.

“ take a small break now. ‘m not lying when i say i’m gonna break the bed on this pussy.”

#𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐒 📝 #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut

[winksasleeplesseye]

writing, in theory: fun

writing, in practice: [unintelligible noises] [sobs] [maniacal laughter] [screams]

#writers life #writing #author struggles #writing struggles #writing meme #writing is haaaaaaaaard #writing fanfic #why is this my most popular post as of late

[mockerycrow]

okay, so something unsettling. with ghost x gn! reader. “don’t worry, it’s not my blood”. maybe you are ghost’s civilian friend in an abusive relationship and one day it reaches a point when you’re so scared you lock yourself in the bathroom while your s/o is raging outside the door, banging on it and threatening you. you manage to call simon and ask him to come get you. the result is, well, blood that is not his. 👁️👁️

- 🐇

JUSTICE (Ghost x GN!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[WARNINGS; HUGE warning for abuse and reactions to abuse (I had to take a break writing a part of this), murder, blood + gore + injury, major hurt/comfort, can be read as platonic or romantic.]

BEING ON LEAVE means Simon needs to restock his fridge and cabinets with enough food for a couple of days. Leaning against the bar of the shopping cart as he turns over the box of tea in his hands. He grumbles since he’s having to buy a new brand of his favorite tea, figuring out that his favorite company discontinued that line. Simon lets out a huff of defeat before tossing the box into the cart and he begins to roll his cart to the self check-out. 

Simon bags his items up into his reusable bags and hauls them out to his car, putting a bag down to dig around for his keys. He finds them and unlocks the back, putting his bags in—and then his phone begins to ring. His eyebrows furrow a bit as he takes his cell phone out of his pocket, his eyebrows raising as he shuts the back. Simon swipes at his screen, accepting the call and pressing the phone to his ear as he gets into the driver's seat of his vehicle. “Hello?” Simon asks into the phone, a bit confused on why you’re calling him.

His heart nearly drops to his stomach when he hears you sob into the receiver, a muffled static banging in the background and some unintelligible yelling. “Simon—“ Your tone is laced with intense fear and alertness, and he can immediately tell you’re in a state of a need to survive. He calls your name, not even bothering to buckle up, starting his car.

Simon calls your name more insistently, his tone bordering on panic. “What’s goin’ on, love??” His heart begins to pound as you sob a near incoherent “go away” to whoever is making you act like this. “Hey, hey hey—focus, sweetheart, what’s happening?” Simon insists, pulling out of the parking lot, already decidedly going to your place of residence.

You shudder and sob into the phone and clear your throat. “Please, Simon, pleaseplease hElp me, he’s—“ You let out a heartbreaking sob that makes Simon’s chest ache, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel harder. “Derek, he’s fuckin’—he’s trying to—“ You’re barely able to push the words out, and fuck, Simon is so glad you’re not too far from the store he was just at.

“He’s tryin’ t’hurt you, love?” Simon asks—it’s so obvious your partner is, but he needs to double check; have you confirm it. “Yes—he’s trying to break dOwn the door—leave me alONE—!” You scream, piercing his ear through the phone. Simon lets out a huff, his heart pounding against his rib cage. “I’m on my way, alright? I’m nearly there, I won’t let ‘im hurt ya, love.”

Simon is definitely going over the speed limit, weaving through traffic and his tires screeching in protest at his movements. You choke and cough, letting out a terrified weeping noise, barely able to breathe. A painful itch blooms underneath his skin, the sensation burning and bubbling, bursting at the seams. Simon was not allowed anyone’s blood to spill except his. Derek’s. 

“Breathe, alright? I’m on your street—do ya have anythin’ in the restroom to protect yourself with?” Simon asks, hearing you whimper as the muffled sounds of Derek’s maniacal screaming and pounding is apparent. “C’mon, sweetheart.  I know you’re scared, I know, but you’ve got to stay with me.” Simon insists, and you make a timid “mhm” noise. There’s a shuffling sound, and he’s assuming you’re looking through your cabinets. Simon soon rolls up to your home, and he barely puts the car in park, not even bothering to turn the vehicle off.

“I’m here, darlin’. I’m here. Stay as far away from the door as possible.” And with that, he hangs up. You stutter out his name in fear, but you quickly hear your partner—soon to be ex—Derek redirects his anger from you to Simon, who you hear bellow out Derek’s name. Something about Simon’s tone is.. eerie. Something about how Derek begins to yell and gasp and fucking scream is satisfying.

You cover your ears, curled up in the corner of your bathroom, heaving and sobbing as your head is swimming. You’re dizzy from the lack of sufficient air entering your lungs. You aren’t sure how much time passes, but when you hear a gentle, muffled knock, you hold your breath. Simon calls your name from behind the door, causing you to scramble to your feet.

You sob softly and shakily unlock the door and you freeze at the sight of him—there’s blood splattered across his face, dripping down his neck, caking his hair and his clothes. You nearly scream but Simon quickly holds his hands up, his tone gentle. “Don’t worry, it’s not my blood. I’m alright, love.” The relief that floods you is crashing like waves, just like how you collapse into his arms.

Simon cringes just a bit, Derek’s blood smearing against you and staining your clothes, but your desperate sobs and grabby hands make him forget about the mess. Simon quickly wraps his arms around you and leads you deeper into the bathroom, making sure you don’t see the mangled and unrecognizable body of your ex-boyfriend laying in the hallway, in a puddle of his own blood, organs, and excrement.

#call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #cod #mw2022 #modern warfare ii #mw2 2022 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x gn!reader #ghost x gn reader #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x gn reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x gn reader #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #crow’s 4k celebration #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #cod mwii #ghost #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #modern warfare ghost

[tojisun]

hai i literally dont know if u accept porn links or not but like https://x.com/mommysvault/status/1733304031165153683?s=20

bimbo!reader and simon??

p link! stared with wide eyes and jaw dropped because yes ur right???? that is bimbo!reader getting overstimulated by simon n his thick fingers [heart eyes]!!!!

…lemme just spiral rq!

!! smut - minors dni; female reader; size difference

“on me, sweets,” simon murmurs before hefting you on top of him, grunting in quiet satisfaction when he feels, and sees, the way your tits press against his chest, the touch of soft pudge sending shivers racing from the back of his neck to his toes.

you whimper, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck, and the sticky feeling of your lipgloss leaves the warm puffs of your breaths tickling his skin. simon grunts once before smoothing his hand down your back, patting at the top of your head before running his palm down your spine.

your breath hitches when his hand falls just above your ass, massaging at the mounds before swiping down, going lower, teasing, and-

“si!” you cry, buckling away from the swipe of his finger against your clothed cunt.

“shh,” simon murmurs, pressing his lips just above the shell of your burning ear. “stay still, sweetheart.”

you do so with a huff and simon chuckles, kissing you again as a little reward, before sliding his fingers purposefully against the building dampness of where your cunt is. he croons at your mewl, not stopping even when your hips jerk away for a moment, your thighs strained in tension, and your hands tight as they grip at his shoulders.

simon trails his fingers along the slit of your cunt, feeling at the damp folds, and muffling his groan on your temple when his index dips lower as it reaches your hole. simon presses into it, the cloth of your panties going taut with every push, and he chuckles at the squeal you make at the feeling.

he teases you for a while, uncaring of your pleas, until he hears a wet sob and simon is quick to kiss your head in apology, his groping hand easing up if only to finally tear your panties away. the fabric doesn’t even slide down completely, only stopping just below the fat of your ass, but simon thinks that’s good enough.

an adjustment would be needed when he’ll fuck you but, well, he’s not fucking you yet, will he? …oops.

you tip your head up at the very moment simon spreads your folds apart, and simon goes breathless at having seen the way your dazed look melts into one of cathartic pleasure.

“jesus, lovie. fuckin’ perfect, y’are,” simon rasps out, overtaken with such primal hunger at seeing the clear euphoria rolling off of you.

he plunges his fingers in, the slide of their length so familiar as they breach past your plush walls, and simon groans at the tight clench of your cunt while you keen, long and high-pitched. he is drunk off of your reactions – legs kicking up towards your ass, your fingers digging into the sheets, your head falling back to his chest as you cry – and he watches with rapt attention, devouring the sight you make as he fucks his fingers in-and-out of you, building a tempo that punches out squeaks from your pretty lips.

at the next curl of your leg, simon wraps his fist around your ankle and pulls. it is a gentle action, nothing too drastic, but just one that opens you up even more to him. simon’s fingers fuck in deeper, your cunt taking him up to the knuckles, and you choke on a moan, your voice giving out at the explosion of pleasure racing through your veins.

“fuck!” your scream is guttural and simon watches – always watching; unable to look away – enamoured, as you hump your hips to his fingers, fucking yourself on them with addicting experience.

simon giggles, elated and drunk.

he nuzzles his cheek to the top of your head, spreading his fingers apart and letting out a dreamy sigh when your cunt snaps them back together again.

“tight and wet. fuckin’ hell, sweets. y’r just too perfect for me.”

you garble out a response, unintelligible, and simon just coos at his pretty little girlfriend, dumb and drunk on pleasure.

and that’s just his fingers.

simon laughs again, this one just a bite too mean.

the way i bookmarked this video 😔🫶🏼

#suns.hc #bimbo!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #female reader #anon #ask #suns #THIS IS BAD IM SORRY BUT I WAS JUST!!!! RAHHHHDHS

[dolldefiler]

[This is a mix of an anon request and an idea from @xxweepingwillowxx]

C/W: Rape

Plop. Plop. Plop.

The only way you’d feel the passing of time would come from the neverending leaky faucet. The sound of hell. Every once in a while, you’d hear my footsteps. I’d come either to deliver food or bury my shaft into your traumatised holes. Nothing else.

One day it’d all stop. Fresh air. Sudden light. The sounds of the outside world. Were you finally free?

No.

I’d drag your bound, feeble body up the stairs, cruelly laughing at every bump and turn you’d experience. You’d be ready. Ready to become your kidnapper’s live-in sexdoll, instead of a basement cum dumpster. I’d drag you through dark, unfamiliar halls, relishing in your fear of the unfamiliar. Would you have preferred staying down in that timeless basement?

Past creaking floorboards and musky walls, I’d throw you through the bedroom door, watching you land painfully against the bed frame. I’d shut the door, watching you wince at the sharp squeal of the rusty hinge.

I’d wheel in an old tv and your phone, attached to some device. What day was it? What were these things I’d wheeled in? I’d flick the tv on, and settle myself above you, sliding my cock into one of your dry fuckholes. You’d groan in pain and hatred, as per usual before I punch you and tell you to focus on the show. A live telecast of your grieving family, desperately begging for information. You’d freeze. I’d grind into you faster. How long would it have been since you last saw their faces?

I’d call your name to get your attention, softly at first before slapping you sharply. I’d ask you if you’d want to talk to them. The way you’d nod frantically, like some eager puppy would make me groan as I feel your asshole tighten around me. I'd whisper my name and address into your ears, the identity of your captor, before wishing you good luck.

Before you know it, I’d gag your mouth, your shocked, vulnerable state ridding me of your resistant personality. The phone would ring and reality would set in. You’d struggle furiously, life injected into your broken rapedoll of a body. On the television, you’d watch your mother pick up her phone. Her eyes would widen and she’d scream something unintelligible to your father. The crowd would quieten. She’d pick up.

And hear the pathetic squeals of a broken little fuckdoll. The opportunity of a lifetime, your last chance for freedom… and you’d waste it sobbing into your gag. I slam my cock harder and faster into your unwilling fuckhole, as your mother desperately screams into her phone. The sound of her pleading for you to speak, the image of her tears… fuck, I’m sure it’d break you. I hope it breaks you. Your face would be wet with angry, desperate tears. In that moment, all that would separate you from ever seeing your family again would be a single chunk of plastic.

I’d cum loudly as I end the call. I’d throw your phone aside, tearing the device off. Your mother would call back but she wouldn’t be able to reach your phone. No one would. You’d be lost forever in the confines of your kidnapper’s house.

This would be your first night in my bed. You’d have so many more to look forward to.

#rapedoll #rapekink #rapetoy #r@pe fantasy #r@pe kink #dark kinks #rough kink #bd/sm sadist #r@pe play #r@pedoll #r@petoy #cnc kidnapping

[thanotaphobia]

fly bird fly

i'm losing my mind. i'm going crazy. i'm going CRAZYYYYY. i wrote this in like 2 seconds literally oh my god

i will crosspost this to ao3 in a second lmao EDIT: CROSSPOSTED

⋆

They trip through the portal, and Phil’s stomach drops.

Not that it wasn’t already on the fucking floor. Through the floor, even. All the way in fucking hell, where apparently, that goddamn eye beast thinks they belong. Phil trips through the global portal and ends up by the cornucopia, Tubbo shrieking in his ear and a vague ringing in his ears.

His lungs hurt, clogged with thick dust from the crumbling marble ceilings. He can still see Chayanne in his mind’s eye, terrified but hiding it well. Tallulah, openly terrified. All the other eggs, dirty and frightened. He can still hear Foolish’s voice in his ears, shouting, screaming. He can see Fit’s face, and that thing. He can’t believe how tall it was, towering over them. And El Quackity…

“Phil, lasso me,” Tubbo demands.

He shoves his face into Phil’s space. Phil doesn’t jump– just stares at Tubbo and the dust in his hair, the blood running down his face, and then blinks.

“What?” he asks.

“Lasso me, lasso me,” Tubbo says, already pulling out his glider and shoving it onto the floor, struggling to open it. “We can fly, you can fly–”

Phil inhales, the very action sending bolts of pain through him, and his wings extend without so much as a thought. It’s strange, having muscle memory for something you haven’t done in months. His feathers ruffle, and every inch of him aches with the effort.

“I don’t know if I can, Toby,” he says, and Tubbo shakes his head.

“You take the paraglider, I have water, we can– you can fly us out, can’t you? Can’t you? We have the coordinates–”

“My wings are– I can’t–”

“Can you get us there, Phil?” Tubbo asks, shoving a lasso into his hands. The other end is tied around Tubbo’s waist, and Phil looks at him. He sees Tubbo face and the blood and his own sword crushing through Tubbo’s sternum with the thick crack of still-wet bone, and he exhales. Then he nods.

“I don’t know,” he says, “but we can try.”

“Go,” Tubbo says. “I have a water bucket.”

“Okay,” Phil says, and he fumbles for his grappling squack, and fires.

Flying isn’t something that just comes naturally. It’s a skill that has to be learned and honed, a sport like any other. There are specific muscle groups linked to certain maneuvers, stretches specifically created just for avians who fly professionally, all sorts of things in order to make someone’s wings in perfect shape for all types of flying. Long distance, sprints, racing twirls. Phil is known for being able to do them all– or at least, he had been. He can remember the training, the time he’d put into it. The things he’d had to do in order to instruct his body over and over and make it used to the strain.

It has been more than six months, and his muscles scream.

His shoulders ache. His forearms burn with the stress of pulling Tubbo behind him. His legs cramp and his lower back throbs. The pain is immeasurable, uncountable, uncontrollable. Phil can grit his teeth but it doesn’t stop the flashes of white behind his eyes as he spreads his wings and flies, desperate. He can barely see the horizon as he goes, but he does anyway, listening intently for Tubbo and pushing down the instinct to curl into a ball and sob with the pain.

They land, and it’s a brief moment of relief before they’re off again, Phil firing his grappling squack and Tubbo shouting something unintelligible into the wind behind them. He trusts Tubbo to land the water bucket shots every time he lands, but he only has to a couple times before his MDA pings he’s getting close; his wings are numb by now, the shoots of pain frequent and intense, making him shudder and twitch every three seconds or so. Behind him, Tubbo is yelling, screaming into the wind, and Phil would join him if he wasn’t so out of breath. Every inch of him is on fire– and not in the good way, not in the Bolas way, just in the torturous way. 

He keeps seeing Chayanne. Flashes of yellow on the landscape below. Hope, like a flower, blooming in his chest. But every time he sees it, or sees Tallulah, a black fist crushes that hope with a quick blink. 

Finally, he sees water, and the boat. His wings are on the verge of giving out and he barely gets Tubbo out and over the water before he stumbles, cramps, and pulls into a nosedive.

When he slams into the water, it’s cold– it shocks him, and he inhales by accident, coughing as he breaks the surface. His wings are wet and heavy but he can’t bring himself to care, spitting out clumps of water and dust mixed together into a thick, glue-like paste. He feels like a cement mixer, and ahead of him he can see Tubbo crawling out of the water and onto the back of the boat, hair plastered to his forehead. Somehow, he finds the strength to lift his arms and make his wings spasm in a way that pushes him forward, towards the boat. He feels Tubbo’s hands on his arm and then the faint sound of him shouting, and then Fit invades his gaze and two other hands grasp him, dragging him onto the boat. 

The wood is hard beneath him and Phil lies there for a second, still spitting up water and gunk. Fit and Tubbo are talking, and he clues in just as Fit says–

“Phil, we have to go get the others.”

“I can’t,” he says. Neither of them seem to hear him. His wings lie limp and lifeless behind him, waterlogged and exhausted. His entire back is on fire and his feathers are dull, the weight dragging him back as he forces himself to stand. His body feels like one gigantic bruise.

“We have to get others,” Fit says, the elytra on his back ruffling. Phil envies him, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Phil insists. He rummages through his inventory, and comes up with a lasso in his hands. “My wings are gone, dude, they’re– I can’t fly, it’s not physically possible. I can’t get anyone–”

It doesn’t matter how much he wants to. It doesn’t matter how much guilt gnaws at him, tearing through his stomach lining with teeth that gnash and chew. 

“I will, then,” Fit says, determination writ on his brow. His face is impenetrable, but Phil sees his own guilt reflected back at him. “Here, the lasso, I’ll–”

And then he’s gone, and Tubbo is left supporting Phil with one hand, and Phil is still reeling. They have one singular moment to breathe. Phil spits onto the deck, and Tubbo follows suit, red blood mixing with water and then disappearing as another wave washes up onto their feet. They stumble forward and Phil shakes Tubbo off, then shakes off some of the water from his wings. Even that little motion sends acres of pain flashing through him, like sparks of electricity up and down his spinal cord. He thinks he might be dying.

He kind of hopes he is.

God, Chayanne.

“Phil,” Tubbo says, looking at his MDA. It’s ringing, and vaguely Phil realizes his is too. Everything is still a little fuzzy in his ears. “Shit. Meteor. We need to go, we need to–”

And then they’re on the move again.

He has no choice. He runs.

#qsmp #q!phil #q!tubbo #q!fit #qsmp purgatory #im Dying i cried im going crazy im #ghdkfhgkdjfhgkdfhg #my writing

[darkeraurora]

Nice Manners

Ghost handing out some discipline. Word count: 1579

CW: hard dom, very NSFW, MDNI

Taking a small break from my other writing to get this oneshot done. It's been rotting my brain for weeks - now you guys can have it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You’re gonna make me cum too soon, Love.” Ghost’s gravelly voice warns.

Not only does she not heed his warning, she opens her throat and slides his cock further down until his short curly hairs tickle her lips. Her tongue flattened along the underside, pressing and caressing to give him more pleasure.

With a deep growl Ghost empties himself down her throat. After the final jerk of his cock between her soft lips he glares down at her with a scowl.

She rocks back on her heels to stand but Ghost pulls her forward, laying her across his legs. “Someone has trouble following orders,” he tsks at her. he tsks at her. (smack) his large hand comes down hard onto her bare skin.

“Bad girls need to be disciplined.”  (smack)   Two of his fingers slide along her slit, gathering her juices.

“My goodness, so wet already Love.” (smack)  “Such a mess you’re making.”

Removing his fingers from her, Ghost brings them forward to her panting mouth. smack “Clean up your mess, like a good girl.” (smack)

Ghost’s clean fingers grip around the front of her throat with a light squeeze. With his other hand, he begins to rub fast circles over her clit. “Are you going to be a good girl who listens now?”

“Yes.”

(smack) “HOW do you address an officer?” Ghost demands, forcing his fingers into her pussy.

“Y-yes sir.”

(smack)   “I don’t believe you.”

“I-I’ll be good s-sir.”

“Do you want to cum?” Ghost asks, seeing that she’s about to squirm out of his lap.

“Yes please.”

Ghost ignores her. Tears begin to fall down her cheeks and she tries to hold her orgasm back.

“Please may I cum?”

Silence.

She’s almost sobbing at this point.

“Please sir may I cum?”

Ghost withdraws his dripping fingers from her and begins to rapidly slap her slit. “I heard you the first time Love.” She begins to yelp, more tears falling.

After several more minutes of slapping her clit Ghost pulls her by her throat, bringing her head closer to him. “Spread your legs for me. Be my good girl and…. Maybe… I’ll let you cum.”

She obeys immediately, spreading her legs widely as he ordered, begging him incessantly to let her cum.

Ghost leans down to her, latching his mouth onto the sensitive skin near her ear. Licking, biting, and sucking. His hand caressing the smooth, reddened skin of her backside.

At her continued whining and begging, Ghost grips her throat tightly as he plunges four of fingers into her. “Beg harder, Love,” he growls menacingly into her ear.

Finally having judged that she's begged him enough, “Do you deserve to cum?”

“Y-y-es s-sir, I’ve b-been good-d, please l-let me cum!”

“Not convinced.”

She groans deeply as he drops his grip on her throat, her head falling back down. She can now only utter unintelligible noises.

(smack)   “Use your words, Love.”

“Please, please sir! I’m-I’m your good girl! Please let me come for you sir!”

Fucking hell.

Ripping her head back up to him, his lips find her pulse in her neck, gripping throat harder as he curls his fingers her inside while pressing on down hard onto her clit with his thumb. “Cum then,” he commands.

With a scream and a gush of fluid she at last shatters in his hands. As he removes her from his lap she collapses onto the floor in a trembling heap. Legs useless.

Ghost is, of course, not without compassion and lifts her up onto the bed. “Very good girl.” Laying her on her back and jerking her thighs apart, spreading her widely for him. “Good girls need a reward.”

She’s still a panting, boneless mess. Ghost opens his fly and frees his thick uncut cock. After a single hard slap to her swollen folds, he plunges himself into her. Burying his cock to the hilt, nudging her cervix. He fucks her at a fierce, brutal pace until his balls empty into her.

Pulling out of her, Ghost sees his semen begin to leak from her and dribble down her cheek. With his finger he scrapes it off her skin and pushes it back inside of her hole. When it refuses to stay in he lifts her from the bed, slinging her about as he turn to sit down, placing her back on her stomach over his lap. Her head and arms dangling near his feet, legs on either side of his hips, her pink cum-filled hole right in front of him.

With thorough care, Ghost continues to collect the seed that escaped and force it back into her. “Now now, Love,” he gently chastises, “Keep being a good girl and keep it inside of you.”

He caresses the stinging red skin of her cheeks, gripping and squeezing the muscle, watching her tender skin quiver under his touch. A large finger slides into her, making her pink hole brim with his white seed. Down by his feet she begins to whimper.

Her pulsating walls threaten to push his cum out of her.

(smack) “What did I say?” he snaps at her.

“To keep your seed inside me,” she responds meekly.

(smack) (smack)

“S-sir!” she corrects herself.

His fingertips trace along the pink lips in front of him, occasionally flicking and pinching her swollen clit. “Such beautiful holes you have, Love.” A finger pushes into her smaller, tighter hole. She yelps at the unexpected sensation.

(smack)   “Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good, then take what I give you and relax Love.” His fingers slide in and out of her holes as she trembles and shakes at the feeling. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you… sir.”

(smack)   “Do better.”

“You sir! I belong to you! I’m your good girl!”

“Yet you were a bad girl earlier?”

“Yes sir. I was.”

“How were you bad?”

“I didn’t listen to you sir.”

“You did not,” smack “obey me,” he corrects.

“N-no sir, I disobeyed you sir.”

“But you’re sorry and ready to obey now?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry for disobeying. I won’t do it again.”

(smack) “Say thank you.”

“Thank you s-sir. Thank you for disciplining me sir.”

Ghost only hummed in response, fingers thrusting in and out of her holes. Her cheeks jiggling due to his pace.

“S-sir?”

“Yes?” he replies curiously.

“May I cum please sir?”

“My girl needs to come already?” Ghost croons in mock surprise.

“Yes sir, may I please cum sir.”

“So polite, of course you can.”

He increases the pace and depth of his fingers, ruthlessly pulling another orgasm from her. Pulling his fingers from her, Ghost spreads her pussy open with his thumbs. Watching the convulsing walls of her core filled with his seed in fascination.

(smack) (smack) “Did you forget your manners already?” Ghost snarls down at her. (smack) “what!” (smack) “Do!” (smack) “You!” (smack) “SAY!”

“Tha-thank you s-sir…” she cries for him

(smack) (smack) (smack) (smack) “For what?!”

“Hah! Ha, ha… Thank you sir… thank you for fucking me.” she sobs.

(smack) (smack) (smack) (smack) “Do,” (smack) “BETTER.”

“Thank you sir for fucking your seed into me! Your-your cock felt… so good! Please sir… fuck me again?”

His fingers slide back into her holes. “Fuck you again?”

“Yes please sir… please put your cock inside me again sir.”

“Desperate?”

“Yes sir, I-I’m desperate for your cock sir.”

A rumble reverberates low in his chest as Ghost narrows his eyes at her finger-filled pussy. “You just don’t know what to do without my cock, do you?”

“N-no sir. I-I love when you fuck me with your big cock and fill me with your seed sir.”

(smack) “Tell me,” (smack) “what are you good for?”

“S-sir, I-I’m… I’m for you to fuck… anytime you please.”

Ghost returns his fingers to her tightest hole, pinching her clit with his other hand.  “Hmm, go on.”

“I’m here to obey you sir. To be your good girl and… and spread my legs for you. I’m holes for you to fuck anytime you please sir.”

(smack) “What else?”

“I’m… I’m here to please you sir. I-I’m here for you… you to use… for your pleasure.”

Ghost leans forward and bites onto the raw skin of her cheeks. “What a very good girl you are.”

“Th-thank you sir. I’m… only your good girl.”

His fingers press hard onto her sweet spots. “Yes you are, aren’t you? Mine to fuck as I please.”

“Yes sir, my holes are… only for you, I’m yours to use… to be filled with your seed… to suck your big cock… Anything you want. Please sir… please fuck me again.”

Ghost grabs her upper arms and hoists her body upright. “Interlock your arms my pet.”  Holding her up with one hand and swinging her around to let her knees rest on the mattress, Ghost pulls out his engorged cock with his free hand and lines himself up with her smaller hole before impaling her onto him. “Such a good girl.”

“I believe you’ve earned a reward.” Ghost commends her once he has filled her body and dropped her onto the floor.

“Th-thank you s-sir,” she mewls.

Ghost opens the door to his room and calls out into the hallway. “Johnny – care to have a taste of my little one? She’s well broken but quite noisy I’m afraid.” Soap saunters into the room, looking down at her figure laying on the floor. “Enjoy mate.” Ghost fist bumps Soap on his shoulder, listening to Johnny smirk and unbuckle his belt as he walks out of the room.

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty smut #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #smut #ghost cod #modern warfare 2 #mwii #just smut #smutty smut smut #smutty fanfiction #hard k1nk #spank #dom/sub #bd/sm kink #bd/sm dom #Ghost dom #Ghost is too sweet do ever do this though

[hopepetal]

for the writing prompts, pearl getting hug-bombed after double life <3

Hiii Wren

Yeah this isn't all that great but here ya go

--

PearlescentMoon joined the game.

<GoodTimeWithScar> where is she

<GoodTimeWithScar> looking through her base. she's not here

<ImpulseSV> Doesn't look like she's near boatem at all

<Xisuma> One moment, please.

<Xisuma> She's at spawn.

<Grian> Makes sense

<Grian> I'm near spawn, I'm heading over

<MumboJumbo> I'll grab some blankets and water, can someone grab potions?

<ImpulseSV> I got you

<ImpulseSV> Scar, where are you

<ImpulseSV> Scar?

<Xisuma> He's flying.

<Grian> At spawn

<Grian> I see her

<MumboJumbo> I'm heading over with Impulse, we have supplies

<GoodTimeWithScar> Don't bring golden apples

<GoodTimeWithScar> bring potions or anything else but not golden apples

<GoodTimeWithScar> Grian is she okay

<GoodTimeWithScar> well obviously not but

<Grian> She's got some pretty bad scars

<Grian> And she's not really... Here

<Grian> Mentally, I mean. She looks pretty shaken

<Xisuma> I'm coming to spawn. I'll see you all there.

--

Pearl's feet touched stone before the rest of her followed as her knees gave out. She didn't even register the familiar heaviness on her back from her wings, coming back into existence after being suppressed during the death game. Her ears still rang from the explosion, her left eye forced shut from the stinging pain seared into scars on her skin.

She had to get up. She had to– had to pull herself together, had to reorient herself or else she would die, and death meant more pain and suffering and loneliness and...

“Tilly,” Pearl heard herself cry, sounding as though she were underwater, “Tilly darling, where are you?” Her vision was too blurry for her to see far, and the complete darkness in her left eye terrified her. If she couldn't see, then she was in danger because anyone could sneak up on her and hurt her or kill her.

She was about to call out for Tilly again before she remembered.

Pearl remembered pain.

She remembered fighting.

She remembered betrayal, and killing, and blood and the screams, and she remembered dying.

Pearl... remembered dying.

Pearl thought she was crying, but she couldn't tell through the haze of blood and death and pain and victory, bitter tasting victory. She didn't even flinch away when gentle hands reached out and cleaned the blood and dirt from her face, brushed the knots from her hair, bandaged the new scars she bore from the final explosion.

She saw red at one point and flinched away, and the red was replaced with green and brown and a kind, concerned voice asking if she was okay. Pearl wanted to laugh at that. Wasn't the answer obvious? She wasn't okay. She didn't think she ever would be okay again.

She was sitting on something soft now, wrapped in blankets (when had she started shivering?) and in a room that was both familiar and strange to her. Her ears had stopped ringing but she still felt as though she was underwater, everything muffled and moving in slow motion. Something soft– bandages, maybe– covered the left side of Pearl's face, keeping her eye shut. She was still on edge about not being able to see on one side, but it was something that would heal in time.

Unlike her heart, which still beat sorrowfully in her chest, shattered into one thousand pieces. She felt... numb, numb and tired and hurt and scared.

Pearl didn't even know she had spoken until the background noise of unintelligible conversation stopped. For a moment, she was confused, before looking around at the people she thought she should know.

“Pearl?” And his voice is so startlingly familiar it pulls her back to Earth, and Pearl found herself gazing into Scar's eyes. “Pearl, are you with us?”

Somehow, Pearl found it in herself to crack a smile and attempt a joke. “Looks like I am.”

Scar blinked, and his eyes filled up with tears. “Oh, Pearl...” He threw his arms around her and hugged Pearl tightly, shoulders shaking as he started to sob. “I'm so glad you're back...”

One by one, the others in the room– they were in one of the houses closer to spawn– murmured a 'welcome home' and carefully joined the hug. Mumbo, Impulse, and Grian, who wrapped his wings around the entire group.

Pearl's throat closed up as she practically melted into her friends' arms. The gentle touch after spending so long alone practically burned, and Pearl was unable to hold back tears. She broke down sobbing, clinging to Scar.

And maybe, the hug helped to mend a piece of her heart, stitching the parts back together with threads of love.

And maybe, just maybe, it gave Pearl hope that one day, things would be okay.

#answered ask #writing requests #my writing #pearlescentmoon #grian #xisuma #mumbo jumbo #impulse #boatem #double life

[whump-in-the-closet]

Hi! I know you’ve written stuff like this before and I absolutely adore it so I have to request some more sidekick whump? Either hero’s or villain’s sidekick, doesn’t matter!

Have a nice day!!

Sure! Went with hero’s sidekick here because of ✨vibes✨

Villain stood over the blindfolded Sidekick, tied to the chair with hands twisted behind them. Their chest rose and fell unevenly, breath freezing in the air.

They were terrified.

Good.

Villain crouched down to eye level with Hero’s Sidekick. “Rise and shine.”

Sidekick jerked back in the chair, straining against the restraints. “Fuck you—” their voice was raw, spent from screaming for help that would not come.

“Ah ah ah, language,” said Villain. “I would have thought Hero taught you better.”

An unintelligible snarl.

Villain leaned close, yanking off the blindfold. They smiled without showing any teeth. “Now for the first order of business.” With a quick, rough gesture, they pulled off Sidekick’s mask.

“Hey!” Sidekick blinked frantically, trying to adjust their eyes to the cold light. Their breathing was shallow. Panicked. “Hero—” they started to say, then broke off abruptly.

Underneath the mask was a cloud of dark hair and tired eyes. No trademark scar. No dye or piercings. Unsettlingly average. Ordinary.

Villain rocked back on their heels. “Hero what? You think he’ll come and save you still? Or were you going to say, Hero’s gonna kill me?” They laughed. “I’m far ahead of him in that.”

Sidekick looked down. Away. Anywhere that wasn’t Villain.

Villain stood and started inspecting the tools laid out on the table. “You do understand this is business, right?” They lifted up a long, curving knife. “It’s nothing personal.”

Wiping the knife off on the hem of their shirt, they spun back on Sidekick. “For purely business matters, you’ll have to give me your name.”

Sidekick’s lips tightened. No. But their eyes were on the flashing steel.

They shrank back into the chair as Villain circled behind them. “Fine. Be difficult,” they whispered, uncomfortably close to Sidekick’s face.

Villain slammed Sidekick’s head into the table.

Stars. Brilliant-white-pain stars.

Villain’s grip relented long enough for Sidekick to register the pain. And then slammed their head into the wood a second time.

Crack.

“Your name?” said Villain.

“You…you should know. Your mom gave it to me—” Sidekick’s biting response twisted into a cry when Villain yanked their head back until their neck threatened to snap.

When Villain drove Sidekick’s head into the wood this time, Sidekick’s vision went black.

Blood stained the tabletop.

Villain shoved the tip of their blade towards Sidekick’s face.

Hovering there.

Sidekick saw double. Everything was ringing.

“Alright then, smartass, what’s Hero’s name? Tell me, and you’ll go home without any scars,” whispered Villain. “Well, minimal scars.”

Sidekick drew back, shuddering. Their eyes burned with unshed tears. “I—” Their voice cracked. “I can’t.”

Villain shrugged and traced the tip of Sidekick’s ear with the blade. At the touch of the cold steel, Sidekick bit back a sob. They did not beg, but they wanted too. Desperately.

“Your loss, really,” said Villain. “I can do this all day.”

The steel cut down, and something sticky and wet dripped down Sidekick’s ear and the side of their throat.

“Can you?”

#this got longer than expected #anyway #thanks for the ask! #whump writing #whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump scenario #sidekick #interrogation #cw manhandling #cw concussion #idk if i wrote the concussion correctly #hero and villain #hero and villain whump #sidekick whumpee #villian whumper #villain #villain and sidekick #no editing we die like men #this was written in the wee hours of the dawn and so. it may have typos #apologies in advance

[schrodingers-romy]

Silver-Tongued Devil [Usagiyama Rumi x Reader]

Pairing: Usagiyama Rumi x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You somehow end up as the sacrifice for an incompetent cult. The demon they summon is not at all what they nor you expected.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Cults. Reasonably graphic depictions of violence and blood. Reader is injured (not extensively) but healed. AFAB reader; genitals are referred to by fem terms but no other gendered terms are used. Graphic Smut (MDNI). Strength Kink. Cunnilingus. Weird demon tongue. idk.

Word count: ~3,200

Notes: 3rd fic for Strange Lovers (my little monster!character x reader series for October)! Please ignore this was a day late i had such writer's block for this and i don't know why. I'm not sure if this is good or not honestly I just want to not have to look at it anymore. Mdni banner template from @/cafekitsune

[Ao3 Link]

I have the absolute worst luck, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps you had broken multiple mirrors in the past. Did breaking multiple mirrors mean the seven years of bad luck was worse, or was the period of bad luck just longer?

You supposed it didn’t really matter, but how else would you end up like this: hogtied and gagged in the middle of a red painted pentagram, surrounded by what sounded to be frat boys in cult getups.

One of the little fuckers had ambushed you on your way home with a handkerchief soaked in chloroform. Next thing you knew, you were tied up in the middle of the woods, surrounded by a bunch of college kids in dark robes chanting Latin.

You had no idea why you specifically were picked. You had a feeling it was just because you were the first person they had been able to grab; you weren’t sure whether that was better or worse than being specifically chosen.

So far, they hadn’t done anything to you other than knock you out and tie you up. Unfortunately, at least one of them must have been really good with rope, because you couldn’t budge an inch. All your screaming amounted to nothing more than a few quiet, unintelligible sounds through the gag. And just because they hadn’t done anything major to hurt you yet, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t. They had no problem with kidnapping you; you doubted your purpose in their demonic ritual summoning or whatever was just sitting there looking distressed.

The chanting had been going on for what felt like hours; yet however boring it was, your anxiety kicked back up drastically when they stopped.

The cultists stopped circling, and turned to face you. One of them, presumably the leader because of his unique blood-red rope belt, stepped forward until he stood right in front of you, close enough to kick if you had the freedom to do so (which unfortunately you didn’t, no matter how much you tried).

In a loud, booming voice, he started up another chant, different from the first. And then he pulled out a wicked looking blade from the shadows of his robes.

You tried to get away; you tried to scream. You could feel your muscles straining against the ropes, but they wouldn’t shift. The gag kept your voice to a mumble even as you tasted iron in your throat from your shrieks.

It was all futile. He crouched down, holding the knife above you; the blade glinted red in the light of the fire. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for pain.

The stabbing you expected didn’t happen, but you were not spared from agony. He roughly cut away the fabric of your shirt around your stomach, exposing it to the night air; his canvas.  Slowly, excruciatingly, he began to carve a shape onto your skin; some sort of crescent moon, maybe; you weren’t sure, too busy screaming from the burning pain of it.

When the knife finally paused, you sobbed in relief. It still burned; you could feel the blood flowing and dripping onto the ground, both too-cool and too-warm feeling at once. But at least there were no new wounds made.

You drifted in and out of awareness, missing the cult’s final chants, but you did not miss the culmination of the ritual.

Once the final words were spoken by the robed figures, a violent bolt of lightning lit up the forest blinding white. The thunder followed immediately after, so loud it caused your ears to ring.

Your eyes took a minute to readjust to the dim light of the torches, and then you saw her.

You noticed two things about her right away: one, she was beautiful; two, she was utterly inhuman.

Her general figure was humanoid…if humans were seven feet tall. Her skin was a human shade of brown, yet her eyes were crimson red with slit pupils. Her broad, almost cocky, grin revealed shining white fangs. Her hair was pure white, hanging around her face in long braids. It was interrupted by the curling black horns emerging from her skull, and the rabbit-like white ears springing from the sides of her head.

She only wore draping gold jewelry, which seemed to drip down her body like liquid, covering her most private parts delicately. This allowed you full view of her muscles. She was built like a Greek statue: thick arms, prominent abdominal muscles, and thighs that could probably crush a man’s skull like a grape.

She radiated power. If you weren’t writhing on the ground in pain like a tortured worm, you would be cowering.

The cultists do cower a little, trembling in their robes. Finally, the one with the red belt steps forward.

“O Great Miruko, High Demon of the Moon, please accept this humble offering,” he said, gesturing to where you lay. “As per the summoning, we only request one day of obedience in exchange for the blood of the sacrificed.”

The demon tilted her head, never dropping her wide smile.

“So you losers thought you would have control of me with this ritual?”

Her voice wasn’t quite what you expected; it was human-sounding at first, if loud, but it echoed around the trees in odd ways, making it sound like thousands of whispers repeated her words. It was…unsettling.

The cultists seemed to agree. Their leader flinched visibly when the demon spoke. “Y-Yes. According to the ancient tome—” he said, pulling a beat-up leather book out of seemingly nowhere, “—we started the ritual on the right phase of the moon, we recited the proper chants, evoked the correct name, provided the sacrifice for consumption…everything is correct. As per the ritual’s rules, you are summoned to the mortal plane to do our biding for a full day, then you return to the hell from whence you came!” He was starting to sound frantic by the end of his tirade.

The demon crossed her arms across her chest, emphasizing their definition. “Well, you’re almost right…except for the most important part.” She stepped closer, and bent down dramatically at the waist to look the cult leader in the eyes. He scrambled to step backwards; this caused his hood to flip back, revealing a face that looked both scared and young.

The demon seemed amused by his fear. She smiled, cruelly, baring sharp teeth at him. “The one who gives the blood is not the sacrifice…they’re the one with control over me. Not you.”

She stood up again, stretching to her full height. “I’m not ‘contractually obligated’ to give you shit. All the power resides in the poor person you have trussed up like a ham over there.” She gestured to you, finally making eye contact. You shivered at the glowing red gaze.

“So, hon, want me to take care of these guys for you?” she asked, focus still entirely on you.

You were frozen for a second. Your brain was spinning. You still didn’t fully understand what was going on…but you would like your kidnappers gone. So you gave the smallest nod, all of the movement you could manage.

The demon smirked, returning your nod, and then she was a blur.

Your head span just trying to watch her; it seemed like only a second before all of the cultists were knocked out cold from the force of the demon’s lightning-quick kicks and punches.

Once she had taken care of them, she crouched down over you to run her hands over your bindings. Under the caress of her large hand the ropes and the gag dissolved into puffs of smoke.

You raised your tingling arms up to your mouth and coughed. Your throat still felt terrible, and coughing too deeply flexed your abdomen, causing the cuts to light up with pain again. But your limbs could finally regain blood flow.

You looked up at the demon, who was still staring at you. You had a hard time meeting her gaze; instead you looked out towards the cultists lying on the ground. “…are they dead?” you rasped.

“Naw. Just going to be unconscious for a long time. Didn’t think you would want me to kill them all. I mean. I can if you want me to though.”

“Um… no, that’s fine.” No matter how crazy this weird cult was, even if they wanted to sacrifice you, even if they had no problem kidnapping and hurting you…you wouldn’t want their deaths on your conscious. You couldn’t do that.

The demon shrugged. “Okay then.” She seemed much less intimidating and more casual now, even though she still loomed above you.

You tried to swallow, wincing when your raw throat protested the action. “So…what now?”

“Well, I am at your bidding, for a whole twenty-four hours. Then I can go back to hell…I never introduced myself, by the way. I go by many names, but you can call me Rumi.”

You stammered your own introduction.

Rumi gave you a broad grin, teeth flashing. “I’m guessing the first thing you want from me is for me to heal your wounds?”

Your voice had a hopeful tilt to it. “Can you do that? Please?”

“Aww, sweetheart, how could I say no when you ask so nicely?” she purred.

You could feel heat in your cheeks. You’re honestly surprised you still have enough blood for such a silly reaction to her words.

She chuckled, and moved so she could slip both her hands between your lower back and the ground. She lifted you up as she leaned down, until you could feel her breath on the sting of the cuts.

You weren’t sure what you expected her to do. Maybe whisper some sort of weird Latin chant and then the cuts would just disappear? But you would have never predicted what she actually did.

Rumi opened her mouth…wide. Out came a tongue between the glinting teeth.

Her tongue was long, and flexible, the end almost triangle-shaped with the way it tapered to a point. It dripped saliva onto your stomach, and you flinched.

You let out a shrill noise of surprise as Rumi uses her strange tongue to lick at your wounds.

Her spit almost seemed to leak into your cuts, causing them to close and disappear before your eyes as she lapped across them. Soon, the pain has disappeared from your abdomen, replaced by the wet, warm feeling of the demon’s tongue. She continued to lick long after the cuts were gone, removing every spot of blood from the soft skin of your stomach.

You felt flushed and tingly. You would have liked to attribute that to whatever strange demon magic was in Rumi’s spit, but you couldn’t quite lie to yourself that much. You’re ashamed to admit it, but the feeling of Rumi’s tongue on you is almost…erotic. The wetness on your abdomen was emulated by the slowly growing wetness in your underwear.

You couldn’t help but squeak in embarrassment at the realization. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) Rumi pulled away, tongue retracting back into her mouth like a snake.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Yes,” you said, before losing yourself to another coughing fit. Your stomach was as good as new, no remnants of the strange carved symbol remaining, but your throat was still raw.

Rumi made a disapproving noise. “Well, it seems like you’re not all fixed up, hon. Something happened to your throat, right? Let me help.” She shifted her arms under you until she was holding you in a seated position, bringing your head closer to hers.

You felt as if your face was radiating heat. She was no less beautiful up close. It was hard to have such a lovely face right by yours, especially after said lovely face was just licking your bare skin.

Rumi removed one hand from your back, to press a single calloused finger against your bottom lip. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You should have protested, but the pet name in Rumi’s soft, low voice made your head feel fuzzy. You opened your jaw.

Your mouth was soon filled with the demon’s tongue. Your eyes closed on instinct, feeling her lips press to yours in a facsimile of a kiss. You had never had a kiss like this, however; her tongue slithered down your throat, filling it and your mouth up to the brim. You would have choked on it, but the soothing feeling of her saliva healing your injured throat made you relax enough for it to slip past your gag reflex.

It almost felt like you were being throat-fucked by Rumi’s tongue; at the mere whisper of that thought, you let out a moan around the slick appendage inside you.

To your disappointment, she immediately pulled back. Once you realized what you had done, you felt like you were going to faint. You reopened your eyes, almost dreading to see Rumi’s expression.

Your breath caught when you finally saw her. She had an almost…endeared expression on her face. It would have been sweet, if not for the sultry darkness of her eyes.

“Aww, honey, you like my tongue?” Her voice was hoarse, and you shuddered, face nearly radiating heat.

She laughed at your flustered expression. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

You let out a low whine, less of arousal and more out of sheer mortification.

Runi’s smile sharpened. “You know, I can do lots of other things with my tongue, if you’d like. After all, I am at your bidding.”

While the first sentence made you feel like you had been lit on fire, the second one doused your flames a little. “I don’t want you to do something because I’m making you do it…if you don’t want to do anything, you don’t have to. No matter how I feel.” You felt a little sick at the thought that you could force her to do something like that if she didn’t want to.

“You’re so sweet, honey,” Rumi said, chuckling. “But I promise I want to just as much as you do.” Her voice dropped lower at the last part, almost to a growl, and you shuddered in her arms.

“Okay,” you whispered.

-

Rumi, as her figure suggested, was ridiculously strong.

She ripped your pants and underwear off like it was tissue paper. She hoisted her arms under you, maneuvering you like a ragdoll until you were in her preferred position. Your legs were hooked over her shoulders, your hands gripping her horns in a weak attempt to stabilize yourself as she lifted you until your pussy was level with her mouth.

You could feel Rumi’s smirk against your sensitive inner thigh. You couldn’t make yourself look down, lest you have to acknowledge your position and the way your cunt was dripping.

“Sweetheart.” A quick flick of her tongue against your clit, making you gasp. “Look at me while I eat you out.”

You reluctantly made eye contact with her. “That’s it baby,” she cooed.

You watched as her tongue slipped out of her mouth once more, the thin tip reaching out to lightly caress your clit. Even though the touches were almost nonexistent, each sent a flow of heat up your spine.

Your legs squeezed rhythmically around Rumi’s head every time her tongue teased at your nub. Your arousal kept building, filling your whole body with sticky heat, yet it wasn’t enough to push you towards any type of climax.

You didn’t notice you had begun to whimper, softly, but Rumi did. She finally took pity on you and started to lap at your cunt in earnest.

The first lick went all the way from your hole to your clit, dragging the broad part of her tongue through your wetness. She let out a rumbling moan once she got a proper taste of you, and abandoned her teasing completely.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as she licked and sucked at your pussy without mercy. Rumi was too caught up in eating you out to chastise you for this. Anyway, closed eyes only made the sounds louder; the obscene slurping noises from combination of your slick and her spit, and both of your moans, yours echoing and hers muffled against you.

You let out a shriek as her skilled tongue wormed its way into your dripping hole. You were so wet from your arousal and her saliva that she had no trouble working the appendage deep inside of you, deeper than you thought possible. She pulled you closer to her face, until her lips were pressed against the soft folds of your sex, and you thought you could come right then.

But this wasn’t the height of your arousal. Not yet.

She then started to move her tongue inside of you.

It felt like Rumi was desperate to taste all of you, the way her tongue squirmed inside your pussy. Every sensitive spot was rubbed against the rough parts of her tongue, and then soothed by the slicker parts. She was basically fucking you on her face at that point, powerful arms bringing your body away from her just to pull you back and impale you on her tongue. Every time your cunt met her face again, she would grind the bridge of her nose against your clit, sending another spark of pleasure up your spine.

Your body felt almost unreal. No longer did you have control over yourself; instead, Rumi did. You were like her little doll, a pretty little thing she could pick up and play with effortlessly.

The pleasure was so intense that you struggled to simply open your eyes without slipping back into mindless bliss. You wanted to see her, though, and so you forced them open, squinted and teary as they were.

Bringing your gaze down to her, you could see her eyes were black with arousal as they peered back up at you. Her entire face was soaked, slick and dripping from your cunt’s juices. She looked utterly bebauched.

The view made you come on the spot.

If you weren’t a doll before, you were now; your entire body went numb from your orgasm. It was like a never-ending series of delicious shocks travelling through your nervous system. Rumi hadn’t halted her movements, even as you soaked her face even more with your come. Your pleasure stretched out longer than you thought possible before your nerves started to turn painful. She stopped once your whines started becoming less come-drunk and more overwhelmed.

Almost lovingly, she laid your dazed form back down onto the ground, still cradling your head. It took you a few moments before you were even aware of your surroundings again.

In that time, Rumi had moved to straddle your head, hovering above your face on her knees. One hand was stroking your cheek softly, while the other held up the delicate chains that hung from her waist, revealing her own glistening cunt to you.

“You were so good for me, baby,” she said, voice husky. “D’you wanna return the favor?”

There was no world in which you wouldn’t want more of her.

“Yes please,” you murmured, opening your mouth.

#bnha smut #bnha x reader #usagiyama rumi x reader #rumi usagiyama x reader #miruko x reader #miruko smut #usagiyama rumi #rumi usagiyama #miruko #bnha #romy can write #strange lovers event #afab reader

[minleeeknow]

‘it hurts’

‘pairing’ - idol!이민호 (lee minho/lee know) x ninth member!fem!reader

‘genre’ - hurt, comfort, angst, ninth member au

‘tw’ - hurt, angst, stressed/toxic lee know, kissing, established relationship, a fight

‘word count’ - 0.9 k

‘to get tagged’ - pls reply to the taglist post, this post, or just ask me

‘lee’s notes’ - lowercase intended, not proofread

pls note, reblog, anything

~

“stop! you’re doing it all wrong,” minho snaps for the millionth time in that one hour of dance practice. you clench your teeth as he runs his hands over your body. usually his touch sets you on fire, but not this time.

“you’re too stiff here,” lee know comments dryly. “why are you so uptight?” he pokes you in the ribs, a gesture that would have been taken as a teasing motions if he wasn’t yelling at you.

“how am i supposed to relax with you screaming at my every move?” you shoot back, slapping his hands away. hurt flashes in your boyfriend’s eyes for a split second and gets replaced immediately by hardness. 

“usually i would let all of your flaws pass, but we have a tour coming up in a week,” minho spits out angrily. he cracks his knuckles, a frequent habit he does.

“my flaws?” you echo. “my flaws?”

“yeah, what about them?” lee know demands sharply, crossing his arms over his chest.

“are you implying i mess up all the time?” you say calmly even though strings are snapping inside of your brain. as stray kids’ second main dancer, you feel slightly offended.

“that’s enough,” minho utters stiffly, his muscles tensing uncomfortably. he doesn’t meet your eyes as you stare at him.

“no, it’s not enough. you don’t get to have the last word when we’re talking about my mistakes here,” you say slowly, heat rising up to your cheeks. “what is wrong with you today? have i done something that my presence keeps rubbing you the wrong way?” your voice cracks at the end and you wince, hating the way you sound.

“no.” lee know mutters, almost unintelligibly. 

“what?”

“no!” your boyfriend yells, raising one of his hands. “but now you’re starting to get on my nerves!” a look of regret washes over him the moment the words leave his mouth. instead of wearing another mask of no regrets, his eyes widen and he takes a step towards you.

“yn–” he reaches out to touch you and hold you but you move away. “i didn’t mean it,” minho pleads, guilt seeping into his voice.

“no. you meant it. you meant it all,” you say flatly, feeling numb. yes, sometimes lee know was a little harsh and mean, but inside he always cared about you. but he never, ever, tried to hit you before.

“jagiya,” minho utters quietly, trying to reach for your hand again. you pull away fiercely. the image of him raising his hand still glares at you in your mind. seeing it again makes you snap. you turn away from lee know and run out of the dance practice room, hot tears stinging your eyes viciously.

“yn!” lee know calls desperately, running after you.

you decide to hide in the most obvious place ever: minho and your shared office. pictures, polaroids, and handwritten notes litter the bulletin board above your and his desks. as your desk is messy with papers scattered all over, pens everywhere and your computer dumped on top, minho’s is neat and organized. simple stacks are sitting on the corner of his desk, his pens in a glass jar with your picture and his cats’ taped to it. his computer is equally as decorated with cat stickers and a stray kids sticker.

you stare at the pictures on the bulletin board, a small peek at what the walls of your rooms look like at home.

your vision gets blurry as you feel tears flow again. photos of you leaning on minho’s shoulder, selfies of minho teasing you and you covering your smile, and pictures of minho hugging you haunt your vision. you crumble onto the chair, burying your face into the palms of your hands.

“yn, baby?” lee know’s soft voice comes from the doorway. you sniff and stifle a sob as you look up and see minho’s sorry eyes and his pouty lips. he hugs you, his strong arms wrapping around you and you melt into his embrace. the sobs you’d been keeping rack your body.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” minho murmurs into the top of you head as you cry into his neck. “i’m sorry, jagi. i’m so sorry. i love you so much, you know? i love you more than anything. i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you choke out, wiping your eyes. “i’m being stupid.”

“no, you’re not,” lee know says sternly. he brushes hair out of your eyes and kisses you, long and hard. his hands wrap around your body as you lean into him gently.

“i was just stressed. i’m so sorry i took it out on you,” minho mumbles into your neck. 

“it hurts when you do that,” you say softly, running your fingers through his soft hair. you sniff quietly and he kisses your neck slowly.

“can i make it up to you, yn?” lee know asks, looking up at you with big eyes. he hugs you again, kissing you once more.

“it’s okay to be hurting. i will help it not hurt anymore. i promise.”

~

‘taglist open!’

@goldenjupiterz networks ! @k-labels

#minleeeknow #fluff #lee know #lee minho #skz #stray kids #leeknow #lee know hurt #lee know imagines #hurt comfort #hurt #comfort #ninth member au #stray kids au #skz imagine #lee minho x reader #lee know comfort #angst #sad #stressed #lee know x reader #love #established relationship #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee minho skz #k labels #k lables

[miilkybnn]

moments from the mw3 gameplay trailer that made me audibly sob and scream:

"Ough, PTSD...... PTSD......"

"OH, FARAAAH— [screeching in fear for her]"

"JhonNNIEEE [unintelligible sobbing] AND HE'S WEARING THE SCARRFFOUGIHUGO"

"We need med evac, now!"

"HUH????"

"Remember... no Russian."

"THEY DID THE THING OUGOBUGOHU [frothing at the mouth]"

#HWLENVDGSJDH #????!??!&!% #%&!% #& #DONT TLAK TO ME #cod mw3 #cod mw23 #WHAT THE FUCKKKKK #WHAT DO U MEAN U NEED MED EVAC #GET YOUR ASS UP #GET YOUR ASS UP!!!!!!!! #milky talks #milky also cries #cod #call of duty

[pherelesytsia]

Meet me in Doom

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Beaten and bruised, Thomas finds his wife in the safe-house, unresponsive and broken, surrounded by death.

Warning: little bit of fluff, guns, death, mices

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n:.This is following there-goes-thefighter❤️ for the lovely´s @zablife's story share. you can find the rest of the story HERE with all the previous parts and I am passing the story onto my dear @cillmequick❤️

The receiver was dangling on the wire. The enemy's blood, darkened and cold, clung to the soles of his polished shoes freckled by mud and grime. A deep voice, nearly mirroring his called out, called him by his name, faint and barely audible, but Thomas Shelby did not answer.

Creatures escaped the rising shadows, ran into the house, rats and mice, screeching and giggling, gnawing at the rotting bodies, drinking blood and feasting on pale skin, screaming for the friends to hasten and feast.

The man stiffened. Swallowing, Thomas loosened the tie around his neck and lowered his gaze to the remains of the dinner on the plate with blueish tendrils on the round notched table with rounded corners and sanded edges. Tears clouded his eyes and pain numbed his senses. He flexed his hand. The first tear fell as the sobs grew louder, pulling him back into reality, realised it was not a dream and the man cruel as the northern wind, dreaded like a wolf failed to stay strong for the woman he loved. Thomas put the loaded pistol away, realised he had pulled it out, knew the men in tattered clothing with outflung arms and broken limbs lying beyond the thick walls bore lifeless eyes.

His eyes had seen much and his ears had heard gruesome news, but he found himself unable to count the soulless shells, the holes in the walls and the wooden floor but a sense of pride filled Thomas at the sight of his wife, the warrior who had raised her weapon against the intruders.

Slowly, as if he feared the sight, the truth, a child fearing the cabinet, the monster under the bed, Thomas turned and faced his sobbing wife. He dried his damp palms on the trousers. He clenched his hands into fists, regretting he had not been at her side, had failed to protect the woman. The question of how she was, did not fall again.

The gashes painting her skin, darkening marks snaking like ivy around her neck and arms, told a tale of death and struggle he did not want to read. The hem of her dress was tattered, the hair dishevelled and Thomas guessed it was dirt and grime, hoped it was not crimson.

Relief flooded his body. His shoulders slumped forward, and he gave her a weak, encouraging smile and walked towards Y/N, paralysed by pain and fear. The last wall of defence crumbled and the last dam broke free and released raging torrents down on the town. Thomas ran, jumped over the destroyed table and fallen chairs. Wood creaked under his shoes. His arms wrapped around her trembling body. Unintelligible, Thomas cried out, uttered a silent prayer, breathed soft promises, too good to be true into her ear and plastered featherlight kisses on her bruised cheek. Shaking fingers sank into her hair, hugged her tighter as the weight of the world, the entire universe, settled on her shoulders and forced her to fall like a star.

            "Everything is alright," Thomas mumbled into her ear.

It was a fact, but it sounded like a question as if he had to convince himself of the sincerity of his own words. Lowering her eyes in shame, Y/N lifted her hands and clawed her fingers into the button down. Gently his battered fingers slid over her exposed arms, back and hips, ribs and neck, on the endless search for a wound, crimson seeping through the fabric, for pain dimmed by adrenaline but apart from trivial yet painful abrasions, bruises of various sizes, the Shelby could find nothing.

            "You are a strong woman. I saw what you did. I don't know many men who could do something like that. I am proud of you," Thomas continued, praising the breaking woman.

Y/N laughed out, chuckled bitterly, and braced herself to answer.

            "It doesn't feel like something I could be proud of. I had to do it. I feel guilty about it." she cawed, the voice faint and roughened by screaming.

Freeing himself from the suit jacket, keeping one hand on her body, he threw the jacket on the floor and lowered Y/N onto the warming fabric. Groaning, Y/N slowly sank to the floor.

            "The men stormed the house. I heard them. I thought I would never see you again, that I will die. I took the gun and killed them all. I had to do it." she sobbed into his shoulders, slurred, but Thomas understood every syllable.

Almost healed wounds tore open. Blood oozed. She sank her teeth into her lower lip. Copper spilt in her mouth. She wanted to scream and curse, cursed the deceased like a witch, but only a croak emitted from her throat.

            "Careful. Slowly. Hold on to me. I won't let you go. I will take you to the hospital, the doctors will take care of you and I will do the rest." he reassured.

His thumb stroked her bruised cheek, wiping away tears and worry.

            "Are you hit?" Thomas questioned.

Y/N shook her head.

            "Please, talk to me." he continued, needed to hear the answer, her voice.

            "Grazed. My arms hurt. One tackled me, tried to knock me out and probably broke my nose." Y/N whispered and pointed to the door, the corridor, to the men facing the other side of the wall.

Thomas nodded with glassy eyes.

            "Your nose is still beautiful. It won't take away from your beauty." Thomas complimented her.

He looked at her as if nothing had happened, as if he had forgotten everything as if she had never disappeared without a word, looked at her like a goddess, a fallen angel.

He pulled an ironed handkerchief out of the pocket, twitched it back and forth, opened it and moistened the almost transparent dark blue material with red decorations with his initials on his tongue, moistened it and washed away the traces of struggle from cheeks and forehead, danced over her skin and Y/N did not flinch in disgust or contorted her face and allowed it.

            "I've called Arthur. You don't have to worry anymore. I will take care of everything. No one will dare to touch you again.", "You're going to leave me?" Y/N questioned with widened eyes.

His heart twitched; the arrow struck his heart and buried deeper and deeper. His lips did not touch, wanting to start a sentence. Soft footsteps echoed through the deserted house. Thomas freed himself from the tight embrace, turned and his right hand found itself on the trigger of the pistol. The footsteps came closer. Shaking, Y/N slid back, heard commotion and cursed like a banshee. Her eyes dilated searched for her pistol, clutched it, breathed a bloody murder as she noticed there was no round in it.

Running, John stepped into his field of vision, gun drawn, ready to kill, and Thomas saw relief in his brother's eyes wandering back and forth from him to the whimpering woman. Sweat dripped down his forehead and carried away the fear and anger boiling in his body. Heaving John leant against the frame, relieved, filled his lungs with air and almost let go of the gun.

Quickly Thomas turned to his wife, jumped back, threatened to fall like a soldier struck by a bullet, put his hand on her body and supported Y/N. Carefully he removed the gun from her, fearing she would injure herself, and shoved it aside. His warm breath brushed her cheek, breathed into her ear that she need not fear, that it was John who had followed him and no one had woken from the deathly sleep.

            "Take care of the bodies. Take them away. Burn them, do with them whatever you want, throw them into the streets." Thomas commanded gruffly, a king sitting on the throne and ruling with iron first over the kingdom.

Nodding, John backed away, turned his back on the pair, put away his gun and did as his brother demanded, saw the seething anger in his eyes, nodded again, and sped away. Thomas watched after his brother and pressed the panting woman closer to his heart. Hushing vows in her ear, Thomas placed his lips between hushed words of love and adoration on her temple while his hand clasped her shaking fingers. Dangerously his eyes darkened, and vengeance, was clouding his senses.

#thomas shelby x y/n #cillian x reader #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray #arthur shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fluff #arthur shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x you #michael gray x reader #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders x reader #john shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #cillian murphy imagine #alfie solomons x you #thomas shelby fic

[sister-lucifer]

Asmodeus Can Be Cruel 

Contains: AFAB he/she Asmo, male reader, dom Asmo, sub reader, overstimulation, crying, Mommy kink, CNC (the overstim messes with readers head, but don’t worry, Asmo always has a safe word for you:) ), reader begs for mercy, Asmo in heat, riding 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors

It wasn’t at all unusual for Asmodeus to act up during his heat, but this was beyond what you were ready for. 

She had been riding you for who knows how many hours, never resting for even a split second. You had begun to squirm beneath him after the third orgasm he pulled out of you, but by now you lost count. 

Tears ran down your hot cheeks as you gripped her thighs, weakly holding on to the soft skin. You tried to push him down, to make him still, to get even once moment of relief but you didn’t have any strength left. Your legs kicked and trembled as you desperately tried to get away from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Mommy, please!” You yelped, “Please, g-get off me! I can’t do it anymore!” 

Nearly every other word was interrupted by a sob or broken hiccup, your voice broken and shaking, just like the rest of you. You could hardly look at him, your vision blurred by tears. 

Asmodeus clicked his tongue, cooing down at you in reply. 

“Oh come now, you can give Mommy one more, can’t you?” 

“Nooo! I don’t have anything left to give you!” You insisted, nails digging into her thighs. 

You weren’t lying. You were sure you had been dry orgasming the past few times at least. You simply couldn’t give any more. You had been worked past your limit and then some, but she needed more. 

He leaned down, bracing his hands on your chest as his eyes locked with yours from above. 

“C’mon, Mommy just needs one more, just one more, then she’ll be happy…” 

You winced at just the thought of another orgasm, throwing your head back with a pathetic cry. You’d already cum about as many times as he’d said “just one more.” You didn’t believe it for a second. 

A dull ache thrummed in your stomach and your loins, as if you needed another reminder of your merciless lover. 

“Please, Mommy, please…i-it hurts!”

“Shhhhh…”

You weren’t getting through to him. If it were any other situation Asmodeus would’ve at least granted you a break, but her heat was clouding her judgement. All she knew was that she needed more, and that you were going to give it to her.

You didn’t even realize your next orgasm was fast approaching until it was almost too late. Your body was nearly numb at this point. Your hands moved from Asmo’s thighs to the sheets, clawing at them desperately as you begged. 

“Please, please, not again! I can’t, I-I—!” 

You squealed at a particularly hard bounce, your entire body tensing beneath your lover. He purposely squeezed around your twitching cock, making sure you hit every spot inside her soaking pussy. 

“Please, y-you have to stop before I cum again, please! I can’t take it, Mommy!”

You pleaded with all of your remaining strength, but your words fell on deaf ears, and soon your voice was fizzling out into unintelligible wails and whines. Your chest heaved with each heavy, strained breath you took, sweat dripping down your forehead and making your hair stick to your skin. 

You tried to hold off your orgasm, to at least give yourself time to brace for impact, but you couldn’t. You screamed Asmodeus’ name for the last time as your hips bucked up into her, your back arching off the bed. In return he called out to you, constricting around your length once more as he too found his release. The feeling of her tightening around you was a pleasure like no other, making your head spin and heart skip a beat. 

Asmodeus’ brows furrowed when she didn’t feel your warm seed fill her. He had had plenty already, sure, but it was an odd sensation—or rather, lack there of. You had really given him everything you had. 

Finally he had come to a stop, allowing himself to catch his breath as he laid on top of you. 

You could feel every small movement she made from the inside. Even the smallest shift made you grit your teeth. The pleasure was still ringing in your body, gradually dying down. 

Asmodeus placed a soft kiss on your chest, brushing some stray hair out of your face. She hummed to herself as she stroked your face, and you happily nuzzled into her soft touch. 

“Mm…there you go…you gave me one more…what a good boy you’ve been for Mommy.”

The words were soft, just barely reaching your ears, but you heard.

“I had no idea you could take that much…maybe next time I should tie you up, play with you a little longer, hm?”

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me smut #asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus obey me #asmodeus headcanons #asmodeus smut #male reader smut #male reader #obey me x male reader

[smallestapplin]

*steeples fingers*

My beautiful, lovely noodle.

Omega Submas x Omega Reader?

Can be polyamory or not. Your choice for NSFW or SFW.

(Also here’s your reminder that you’re amazing! 🥰)

~Spark💥

IM THRIVING FOR THIS! Went smut, heat cycles, just as an excuse to world build a little. (Also I adore you, and will maim for you. My sweet darlin spark-)

🔞Cw : afab reader, shared between the two, heats🔞

-

-

-

Ingo and Emmet think being mated to another omega was the best decision they have ever made, you understood them in ways most could not, understood their struggles, and what they meant by ‘yes nest, but it’s not right.’

They adore you.

You make their days better, and they are happy to do so in return. However, there is something most don’t mention when omegas enter a courtship together.

The heats.

Of course, with all three of you being fully grown omegas, you were very aware of heats, and how yours felt versus theirs. But it was like a change happened when they bit into your scent gland, and you theirs.

But when your heat started, it triggered theirs, causing the entire house to reek of in-heat omegas. But neither of you cares, only focusing on soothing the unbearable arousal overtaking you.

Ingo tried so hard to stay calm and to be the voice of reason. He’d go out of his way to run a bath, make dinner, and get snacks and drinks.

But his cock is fighting against his pants, his eyes keep filling up with tears with just how turned on he is, it’s just too much! And he hasn’t even gotten to fuck you yet!

Just listening to you cry, and beg for your mates has him gripping the kitchen counter.

‘N-need it! Fuck me, fuck m!- ah!- more! M’gonna break!’

Ingo doesn’t know how he’s managed this long, but he had to since Emmet snapped at just the smell of your heat.

It triggered the younger twins’ heat too, leaving him sobbing against your neck as he fucks you relentlessly.

The headboard slams against the wall, much like the slamming your needy hole is taking.

Ingo knew his turn would be soon, but he just needed to make sure everything was prepared and ready before then. But the question is, will he make it?

‘Take it! Take it! Mmfuck- darrliiing!!’

Ingo is surprised at the level of rage he feels, hearing Emmet when it should be him making you feel good, making you cum.

He’s quick to finish up meal prep, finishing it just as your squeal echoes throughout the house. Fuck, you always sound so pretty when you cum! Ingo can’t help but rub his cock through his pants, trying to ease the tension.

But that means it’s his turn! The older twin has never moved so fast, rushing to the bedroom before Emmet can get another turn with you.

The younger twin nearly growls as his brother comes barreling through the door. He doesn’t care if he looks like a mess, he wants more of you!

“Learn to share our mate.”

Before Emmet can retaliate, you whine so prettily, shaking your ass from your downward position.

“P-please, want my mates! Fuck me, mark my pussy!”

You sob as Emmet is yanked away from you, leaving you to fall to your side on the bed. Ingo towers over you, cooing at you so sweetly, and nuzzling against your neck.

“Foods prepped, now go.” The older twin growls out to his brother.

Emmet simply groans dramatically and takes his leave. Letting you and Ingo finally be alone.

The stoic man can’t describe how much he wants you.

All his instincts screaming at him to submit to you, which seems you were thinking of as well. He yelps as you flip him onto his back, and tear his pants, leaving his throbbing cock bare.

“Ingooo, please! Fuck I need it- need you!”

“Yes yes use me! M’yours! Only for you!”

His eyes roll back, and his mouth hangs out with a loud cry. Your ass smacks wetly against his thighs. You grip his shoulders with a cock drunk smile, while you feverishly fuck yourself on his dick.

Two omegas in mindless heats, pawing at each other and babbling unintelligible nonsense, drunk off each other, drowning in each other's scents.

No one told you three just how desperate and shameless it could get, but fuck if you aren’t addicted.

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