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plush-rabbit · 1 month

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A/N: I can't come up with a title so,,,, yeah!! Anyways, I've had this saved in my drafts and I miss writing and even with spring break!! my professor still gives us homework. So, here I am. this is just a thing where like reader is an angel and falls and like it was gonna be a short series, but like,,, i never finish my series (except for ciays)

Word Count: 3.1K

You sit with a pit in your stomach. Your legs are causing the items on the table to shake, and you can't stop the dread that is looming over you, cold and heavy. There's a shift beside you, and a hand cups over your thigh, a feeble attempt to get you to stop moving. You can only flinch in response.

“Can you just- I don’t know, fucking chill or something?” His hand gives you a squeeze, before pulling back and crossing his arms. “They aren’t gonna do shit to you.”

“Lucifer fell because he asked too many questions,” you counter, gasping for breath. The room feels too tight, too full and empty all at once.

Beside you, he scoffs. “Love to break it to ya babe, but you aren’t him. You’ll be fine.”

“Exactly,” you hiss, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m not him. I’m- I’m a low ranking Angel. I- Oh Father, I don’t hold any type of status. I’m going to fall,” you voice breaks and tears are in your eyes, horror and fear making you pale.

“You’re not.” He’s harsher this time, and pulls you to look at him. His name is on your tongue, and he interrupts you. “I’m vouching for you. And so are the rest of my girls. You’ll be fine.” He loosens his grip on you, and smooths a hand down your hair. “Chillax, babe. I know you’re a little goody-two-shoes, but this is nothing. You’ll probably just get demoted or some shit.”

“Adam.” Your hands grasps onto his, and you want to believe that he’s right. “But what if-”

The door opens, and you both whip your head around, watching as Seraphim walks in, her head held high and face lack of expression. The pit in your stomach swallows more of you.

Your rise from your seat, and Adam begrudgingly follows. “Sera-” you clear your throat- “I uh- Seraphim. Good evening. I- I thought we were not allowed to meet before the trial,” you look around the room, and for a moment, you have hope. She wouldn’t go against orders, so perhaps she’s here with good news. You give her a tense smile, and she walks to the desk, her wings taut and folded behind her.

She sits at the chair with her arms folded over the desk. “I wanted to be the one to deliver the verdict.”

Your brows furrow, and sit back down, your ankles crossed over one another, and your body leaning towards Adam’s. His hands reach over the space between the chairs and you grasp onto him, nails digging into the clothed covered skin.

“The verdict?” You ask in a whisper. “But I hadn’t- What about my trial?”

“It was decided that you would not have a trial.” Her voice is like stone, unwavering, strong, and heavy.

“Decided by who?” A chill runs down your spine, and it’s as if you can feel a presence around you.

“If there’s no trial then how do fuck do you all even have a verdict?” Adam, as always, is crude, and it only furthers the sickness deep in you.

“Adam,” you say in a high pitched voice.

He turns to you, and squeezes your hands. “Well? What is it? Community service? A demotion in rank? Paperwork?”

“Sera,” your chest is tight, your bones pricing into the tender flesh, “why didn’t I have a trial?”

“Look, the demotion can’t be that bad, right? I’ll look after them. Make them my assistant or something. I got shitload to do anyways, they’ll keep me on it.”

“Sera,” you plead, “I was promised a trial. I was told that it would be fair.”

“No trial is good, right? Means it was easy to consider your fate.” You flinch. “You get to be my assistant. Don’t worry babe-” he tugs on your hands for your attention, but you’re fixated on Seraphim and that way that they look at you with somber eyes- “I won’t work you too hard.” The playful tinged words make you sick.

“Sera,” you croak, leaning away from Adam- “my trial. It was promised.”

She calls your name, it’s whispered like a prayer, uttered like a curse and laced in sorrow. You know your outcome, before she can even say it. “I’m terribly sorry.” Your body goes cold. “It has been decided that your punishment for questioning the beliefs and practices of Heaven will be the taking of your wings and The Fall to Hell.”

You can taste the bile. It burns, the acid fills your mouth, and it makes your eyes burn with hot tears.

“What the fuck!” Adam shouts, your hands are let go, and you stare into her eyes. You can hear the chair squeak as it’s pushed away and it nearly topples over. Adam goes to you, short strides to grasp his hands over your shoulders. “That isn’t fucking fair! They were promised a trial, so where the fuck is it?” He’s furious, and the hands around you bring you no comfort.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Seraphim looks at you as she speaks. “For the both of you.” Her eyes dart between you and Adam.

“I didn't mean to,” you whisper, your nails digging into your clothes. “I promise that I-”

“Come on Sera! I've done worse shit than them. Can't we just look the other way?”

“Adam, I need to speak to them alone.”

“Like fuck I’ll-”

“Adam,” you breathe out. He looks at you, moving to kneel in front of you and you look at the demonic mask, and you want to retch. “Let us speak in private, please. I’ll meet you outside.”

He looks at you, through the golden eyes of the mask. “Fine,” he huffs. He stands, and presses a kiss to the top of your temple. You wish that you could return the gesture- that you could look up and kiss him back without worry. “Yell if you need me,” he whispers to you. You nod, unable to mutter a word to him.

The door clicks behind him, and you’re left alone with Seraphim- something that you’ve never had the opportunity to experience. Perhaps if circumstances were different, you’d be more ecstatic.

They call your name, and she holds her hands out to you. Like a trained dog, you place your hands in hers, and you let the tears fall.

“Why am I falling?” You ask, gaining no comfort from her hands.

“Emily- one of the younger Seraphim- has begun to question certain aspects of Heaven. I fear that the questions won't settle.”

“So this is- I’m meant to scare her? To remind her of her place?”

Seraphim sighs, and she lifts a hand, tracing a delicate finger along the back of your hand. You hate the ways he says your name- like she still cares for you. Like your name is sweet as honey. As if she has the right to speak to you with care and love. “You must understand that Emily is still so young.”

“And a higher ranking than I am.” You turn away from her, but you can’t pry your hands away. You want comfort, even if it's given by your judge and even if the hands that hold yours are going to be stained in gold. They say nothing to your comment, and you hold their hand tighter. “When?” You croak out.You dig your nails into their skin- it’s cold, and as much as you want to hurt them, you cannot.

“By the end of the week.” Their words are spoken without wavering. “You’ll be confined in one of our holding rooms for incoming souls for the time being. You’ll still be allowed visitors. The spectacle will be watched by only those that you allow, and by the high-ranking angels.” You let out a sob, and bow your head. “It will be quick. With the ranking unbeknownst to the rest, it will be an Exterminator who will remove your wings. They’ll be wearing one of the ceremonial robes. After the removal of your wings, you’ll be-” she pauses and you can already feel the emptiness.

“I’ll be cast out.” You look up and she nods, her hands squeezing yours.

“Understand that if I could will it any other way, I would.”

You look at the hands holding onto yours, and you think about how someone will have to clean your blood. How they’ll get on their knees and wipe the ichor from the floor, how the rags will drip in riches and stain their hands in sin. Your wings flitter in response.

“You said an Exterminator?”

“Lute has been tasked with your severance.”

“Why not Adam?”

Seraphim looks shocked. “I- I would not wish for him to be the one to remove your wings. If it were any other, I believe he would do an excellent job, but since it’s you,” she trails off. “I do not believe he would be able to commit.”

“But Lute can,” you say.

“Yes. She is able to put her feelings aside, and do her job.” Seraphim pauses, their eyes are trained on you, and a few look at you in pity. “However, if you wish for it to be Adam-”

“No,” you interrupt. “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t be able to.” Your wings feel heavy. “Sera?” She hums in response. “How soon will I be cast out after my wings are removed?”

“Effective immediately.”

You lay in your new bed- the mattress new and solid underneath you. It’s nothing like the one back home. You can’t seem to get comfortable, all that you can do is lay there wrapped in Adam’s arms, pulled close to his body where your breath tickles at his skin. “You can run,” he says quietly into your ear. “I’ll leave the door unlocked, and you can run.” His act of defiance brings tears to your eyes.

“Adam,” your voice breaks.

“The Exterminators will be the ones tasked with chasing you down.” You feel the way his hands grip your skin, clawing and desperate to keep you beside him. “They won’t get you. They’re loyal to me. They’ll listen. You can live on Earth.”

When you close your eyes, tears trace down the curve of your face. “Lute is the one performing the severance of my wings,” you tell him a hoarse whisper, unable to keep the horror out of it. Even speaking about it is enough to send a pain down your spine and at the base of your wings. His nails pierce into your skin, pinching into the softness of your stomach. His wings flutter, and they are heavy above your body. “She’ll do a good job,” you comfort. “A clean cut that will make it easy to heal.” There’s bile burning in your throat. “Please don’t be upset with her after the event.” His arms wrap tighter around you, and his wings hide you from the outside, curving over your body, cupping you and holding you. Your hands hold onto him, at the nape of his neck, trying not to look at him, but commit his touch to memory. “I don’t think you should be there.”

“Like fuck I won’t,” he seethes, the venom in his words are unable to hide the tremor.

“Adam,” you murmur, “I’m serious. I- You shouldn’t see me like that. I- I know that I would look for you after it happened. I- I can’t ask for you to see me so broken.”

“I’m going,” he tells you in a tight voice, his breaths coming out in gasps.

You nod, and swallow the pit lodged in your throat. “Please don’t stop it.” He whispers your name, and lets you go, coming up to a sitting position. His wings still stretched, touching you so gently. You look up at him, tear stains glistening on your cheeks. “This is my fault. I’ve accepted it. I know I’m going to plead and cry for mercy, but ignore me, Adam.” Your hands find his, and you hold onto him desperately. “Don’t fight for me. Let it happen.”

“You should run away,” he tells you again. “We can run together.” Tears glisten in his eyes, and you don’t recall ever seeing him so upset.

You smile, but it trembles and falls, and tears spill out. “Where would we go?” You ask in a quiet voice.

“Earth.” His jaw tightens, and you don’t comment when his voice cracks. “We’d take a bunch of gems from here and sell them there. We’d be rich.” You try not to let the quaking in your chest show, the soft stuttering that threatens to release a storm. “We’d sing in some dingy ass club, and I’d use my blessing to make us famous.”

You laugh, and it’s clouded by tears. “I thought we were in hiding?”

“We’d be in disguise,” he counters, a hand prying away from your grip to wipe away the tears. “We’d settle after a few years, get a nice house in a big city. Gamble, drink, fuck. Maybe have a few kids in like a hundred years.” He smiles when you turn your head to kiss his palm, your other hand going to curve over his. “We’d have a nice life.” He lays over you, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, and presses his lips to the warmth of your skin when your hands tangle themselves into his hair. “It’s a nice plan, right?”

“Of course,” you say through tears. “You always come up with good plans.”

You stand in a stadium, dressed in white, your back exposed and your wings fluttering about no matter how much you will them to still. No one fears that you are going to run. Not when there are archers lined, and not when the Angels are watching you. You see Adam, and he wears his mask, standing with his arms held behind him.

You wish you told Seraphim that he wasn’t allowed.

Chains bind your ankles and wrists. The iron pinching your skin and irritating the flesh. You’d take this pain a thousand times over than what’s about to happen.

“For questioning Heaven’s beliefs and practices,” the voice echoes around, “we sentence you,” your name sounds empty, and you can’t breathe, “to have your wings removed and to be banished from Heaven.” You do a stupid thing and glance at Adam and he looks away at your glance. You feel a tinge of pain, but it’s better this way. “You will now have your wings removed.”

You turn your head, and see Lute. She’s shrouded in white robes with gold accents. Her hair is tied, and her wings are pinned behind her. She does not cast you on any type of look and you're grateful for that.

Her gaze is steeled. You know her. She knows you. She’s seen you at your worst, and you’ve seen her at her best. You’ve shared meals with her- broken bread and drank wine together. She’s been in your home. Her smile has always been sharp, and there are moments where it’s tender, vulnerable and saved for those closest to her.

She does not smile at you. She keeps her gaze focused on you, and you can’t help but tremble, the iron of the chains clinking together. You look away, and you’re grateful you had nothing to eat the morning of. You were grateful you were not given the choice of a last meal.

“On your knees,” Lute tells you in a strained voice.

You hope Adam won’t be mad at her. You hope that if he is, that she can take it.

You flinch at the chill touch of the sword. Your wings flutter, and you bite your tongue. You should make your case once more. You shouldn’t be here. You only asked a simple question. This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a point against your back. You look up and find Adam. You need him to save you. You can run away with him. You’ll live the life he wanted. You’d do anything. You’d be his. You yelp as something sharp cuts into you. You’d never disobey Heaven again. You’ll never ask again. You’ll be content. Please, Father, you’ll be good.

“Stay still,” she says, breathing out the last word in a plea, and when you cannot, she’s forced to continue.

The tearing is a sharp pain. One that makes you writhe and scream, your throat raw and the sounds unbearably loud. Every twist and turn only further aggravates the wound, skin pulling and muscles bare for the Angels to see. Warmth runs down your back, caressing the small part of your back and spilling onto your legs and thighs. Your hands slam into the ground, clawing at the porcelain floor. Through tears, you can liquid gold, shining and shimmering.

The cool air is agony against your open wounds. You’re warm, and wet, and the final strip of skin is pulled away from you. The heaviness of your wings are gone from you, and crane your neck to see them land with a heavy ‘thud’ away from you. The base of the ivory feathers are drenched in gold, and you can only think about the misery you’re in, and you reach for them. You need them back, you want them back. You’d sew them onto yourself if you could, but you can’t leave them here.

Your eyes glance around, wide and horrified, searching the crowd, and you roll onto your back, screaming once more, and calling for Father, your eyes landing on Adam. Legs block your view, and heavy hands lift you, pulling on your arm, and stretching the raw muscle.

You can hear someone, but your own screams overpower the other, and for a moment, you’re in the air, lifted and unable to breathe, until gravity pulls you down.

It’s a searing pain. It burns your skin and the whips of air slash against your back and body. You’re beaten and battered, carried by the air of Hell, and your screams only echo around you. The ground is unforgiving, a crater forming around you as you land. Gravel and sticks push against your skin. Your body lays crumpled on the floor, limbs twisted around each other, and your body is a mix of gold and dirt.

Weeds twist into your hair, and the stench of Hell makes you retch. You cry on the ground, alone and numb. There is no Father here; there is no warmth for you here. In a shay breath, with your hands clawing at the dirt, you wish for death. You wish for the demons to pry you apart and for your body to never recover.

And far away, tucked away in his castle, eyes looking up at the heavens, Lucifer sees a shooting star streak across the sky, and his heart drops.

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jahsontodd · 7 months

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Honestly it wouldn’t surprise me if SAG’s strategy was to hold off on A-lister presence on the picket line until they knew it wouldn’t hurt their message.

We know it’s not a coincidence the WGA strike comes to an end right after the Drew Barrymore debacle. I think the studios sacrificed Drew to do a temperature read: will a likeable celeb prevail against the strike? The answer was a resounding no. And then all the sudden they had an acceptable offer.

In the beginning of this strike we were reminded to stay focused: when we say actors are underpaid we are not talking about the top 2% of actors and the studios will try to make it seem that SAG is saying that top 2% is asking for a raise.

The entire WGA strike high ranking comedians picketed, strike force 5 is formed. WGA used their star power where they had it.

I think SAG saw the DB temperature read and decided it wouldn’t hurt their message to roll out the A listers. I mean- no huge names on the SAG picket line this whole strike then yesterday Jessica Chastain? Today Oscar Isaac, Pedro, Gabriel Luna, and so many many more? Just after WGA ends and DB controversy? I don’t think it’s a coincidence

#at the outset Fran’s message was actors were laborers #that message would be undermined if we have scarjo in head to toe khaite on the picket line #mind you this is written after a lil drink so! let me know if I lost some of y’all #sag aftra #pedro pascal #WGA #wga strike #gabriel luna #Oscar Isaac #strike #drew barrymore #A VERSION OF THIS CORRECTED WGA TO WAG LIKE 4 TIMES RIP

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yourhighness6 · 2 months

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I've been thinking a lot lately about how so many people miss the point of TSR completely. Like Katara did forgive Zuko because forgiveness is earned and no Katara didn't forgive Yon Rha because she can choose who to forgive/ who not to forgive and no Katara shouldn't have killed Yon Rha because the whole point of the episode is that you don't have to forgive someone to show them mercy. That's why Bryke insisting that Katara "forgave Yon Rha" after the fact is not only fucking stupid because she literally says something exactly to the contrary in the episode and it doesn't just remove her agency it removes the complicated moral theme

#such a complex message its honestly my favorite episode #but I feel like a big chunk of the fandom missed the point one way or another #there is an argument that they perhaps didn't consider the social factors involved in implying katara was just as bad as Yon Rha if #she decided to kill him because that's obviously not true #but still I just feel like with all the people dissecting the episode over the years the overarching theme was kind of missed #we all just focus on the smallest of lines we're ignoring the bigger picture #katara #zutara #tsr #atla #avatar the last airbender

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rintoki · 8 months

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visitors in the night

characters: kafka x dom!fem!reader

cw: use of strap, rough sex, mentions of somnophilia, reader might be like a robot or smth idk what’s going on with them

a/n: i have no clue what i was wafflin on about something about story setting i think i had a headache ok idk also sorry for any spelling / grammar / punctuation mistakes. even though reader is not actually gendered they just have a fem body, can be read as wlw, read it if u want to idk.

“kafka.”

you glanced up at the purple-haired woman from the book you were reading in bed, watching silently as she pushes it to the side, sidling into your lap.

she doesn’t speak a word, her body language telling you enough. the silk robe wrapped loosely around her body brushes against your skin, and out of your periphery you can see it falling to the sides of her thighs, exposing the milky white skin to you—surely all to get you to pay attention to her. but you can’t find it in yourself to entertain it, eyes boring into hers as you waited for her to explain the interruption.

kafka pouts when you seem unfazed by her advances, resting her arms around your shoulders and leaning in a little closer, “come on…”

she all but purrs into your ear, pressing her body against yours in yet another attempt to get a reaction out of you. to be perfectly honest, you weren’t expecting this out the her. sure, at one point, you played with and entertained her, thinking it’d be a one time thing and you’d both move on. but the enigmatic woman has come waltzing back to you just one too many times to be ‘just for fun’, clearly making herself at home in your residence. you sighed, this is going to be a long night.

and on your lap, kafka shivers. the thin material of her robe doing nothing to keep her warm from the cold air, and instead relying on the heat from your body. a jarring contrast from the iciness in your expression, the very same disinterest that first drew her in. with excitement beginning to swirl in her lower belly, kafka readjusts herself, loosening the knot that held her robe together and letting it slip lower on her shoulders.

“kafka,” you repeated, your eyes fall to the side as you reluctantly set down the half-read book to finally pay full attention to the woman on your lap. the sound of her name falling from your lips sent shivers down her spine, her back arching just a little.

“did you need something?”

she smiles; lips curling as her eyes scan over your face, tracing the curve of your jawline before finally resting on the neckline of your dress shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned with a clear view of your cleavage.

“don’t be like that, darling. i think we both know what i need from you,” she sounds almost breathless, her voice low as one hand reaches for the button that struggled to hold your blouse together, the soft cotton stretching tight over your chest. with a soft sigh, you put your hand over hers, effectively stopping any attempt to unbutton your top.

“i don’t believe i received any message from you about what you might need?” you tilted your head to the side, sitting up a little straighter as you slowly brought her hand to your lips, giving it a soft kiss before placing it where it was previously—wrapped around your shoulders.

“i’m sorry, should i have scheduled an appointment with you?”

“that would be ideal…” your voice trails off as you wrapped an arm around her waist, gently laying her on the bed as your other hand supported you. kafka smiles up at you, breathing deeply as your head dips down to kiss her neck, your arm wrapped securely around her waist; your slow, steady movements beginning to drive her mad.

“then i’ll have time to prepare,” you whispered, bringing your hand from around her waist to cup her breast, massaging it through the silk robe. you hear a soft sigh from the woman, her chest pushing against your hand as you thumb brushed over her nipple.

your lips traveled down her collarbone, pushing one side of the robe aside as you beginning to kiss around her breast, purposefully avoiding her sensitive bud that you know she likes to be touched. kafka’s breath quickens, feeling her back muscles tensed as you tease around it, her grip on your shirt tightening.

“prepare?” her voice was beginning to sound strained, breathing unevenly as you continued to kiss around her breast, everywhere except where she wants to feel your mouth the most, meanwhile the other side was left neglected and aching. kafka presses her head back into the mattress, her body begging for more but not wanting to push you for it. had it been anyone else, she might have just forced them into what she wants, take over their will to do her bidding. but for reasons unknown, that doesn’t work with you. which then begs the question of why she keeps coming back to you knowing you’d tease her like this. she doesn’t quite want to think about that yet, though, instead focusing on your hand that pushes apart her legs, fingers tracing along her thighs.

“to fuck you, of course.”

—

at this point, kafka wasn’t really sure how long it’s been, her hands gripping the soft sheets as you left get your strap. it actually hasn’t been that long yet, perhaps maybe a half hour had passed since she first sat on your lap. but in her lust-fuelled mind, it felt like hours considering you have yet to fuck her like promised.

instead, you spent the time kissing and caressing her body, massaging her chest and teasing her nipples. and you were so fucking good at that, licking and sucking on her sensitive buds until they felt raw and swollen. and even after you would continue to roll the buds between your fingers, until you drew out soft whimpers from her, shying away from your touch and yet her hips trembled with need.

“finally,” kafka mutters, watching from her spot on the bed as you came back with the toy, her purple eyes following your every move as you slipped it on and secured it in place. just the sight of it aroused her further, anticipating the feeling of your cock buried in her walls already.

her robe was a mess; the lower half pushed to the sides to expose her pretty pussy to you, glistening even in the dim lighting of the room. even so you stopped her from undoing the knot that held it together, “keep it on, i quite like it actually.”

kafka only smiles in response, holding your gaze as you crawled over to her once again, before hooking her legs over your forearms and pushing it up. now in this position, it was much more obvious how wet you’ve got her, pussy oozing with juices as it awaits your cock. her breathing gets heavier again as you continuing to toy with her, her walls clenching and unclenching. your fingers brushed along her entrance and watching as more fluid leaks out her, and an involuntary twitch of her hips.

“come on,” she groans, leaning her head back and wiggling her hips, urging you to do something already. you could only laugh in return, before lining up the tip of the dildo to her hole, and in one swift motion, pushed into her pussy completely.

“ah—!” the yelped that escaped her lips was uncharacteristic, and ‘surprise’ was not an emotion she could relate to, but the feeling of your cock buried fully inside her in one thrust was unexpected. instead she had expected you to take your time, fucking her slow and steady until she can no longer take it.

but now kafka could feel your cock in her belly, pushing against her insides so deeply that she could barely breathe. without even giving her time to adjust to the sudden stretch, you’ve already beginning moving your hips, pushing deep into her with every thrust and making sure your hipbones pressed against her ass every time.

you kept your breathing steady, and your movements sharp, pressing kafka’s thighs down until she was almost folded in half, forming a pretty V-shape as her legs hung limply. to you, it merely felt like a workout, the only pleasure you received from this was watching the woman below you gasp and moan out from your relentless thrusts. watching her normally collected composure crumble, and her eyes roll back with pleasure.

even as kafka started to squirt halfway through, her juices spraying out every time you pulled out, you kept up your brutal pace, pushing back in full force. her body bounced with your thrusts, and every movement caused her sensitive nipples to brush against the silk fabric which only amplified the sensations running through her body.

now, sounds of wet skin slapping against each other, and kafka’s gasps for air filled the room. her hands gripped your arms, nails digging into your skin but you barely noticed it, fully focused on the woman beneath, watching every rise of her chest and every twitch of her hips. you’ve done this enough to know, what her body likes the best.

kafka could barely take a full breath between each of your thrusts, and it didn’t matter how tightly her pussy walls clenched; not when you’re pulling out and forcing it back in like that. pleasure coiled in her lower belly, tightening until it was almost unbearable. she could feel her hips and thighs quivering, the muscles struggling against your grip. in and out and in and out, kafka feels her mind getting dizzier, your cock felt so good inside as her back arches, right on the verge of an orgasm before it all suddenly stops.

in an instant, all sensations was ripped from her and she could no longer feel your warmth. somewhere in her mind, she just barely registers the whine that leaves her throat, body aching for your touch, your cock, once again. so out of it that she doesn’t even notice you flipping her to her front, face buried in the sheets as you lift her hips off the bed. the moans that escaped her lips she can’t even care to muffle; high-pitched and needy when you pull her hips back onto your cock, the lewd sounds echoing through the room.

the orgasm that you had so cruelly ripped from her was quickly building again, this time much faster as the tip of your cock pressed against the swollen bundle of nerves within her with every thrust. pain and pleasure mixed together under your bruising pace, kafka was sure that she’d feel it in the morning, but she cannot complain. after all, this was what she wanted—what she needed from you.

this time, you don’t stop. even as her pussy ached from oversensitivity and the bed below has been completely drenched with her juices, your hips continues to fuck the cock into her. until nothing but shaky breathing could be heard from the woman below you, her body falling limply to the bed as you finally released her hips, imprints of your hands pressed into the milky skin.

—

thankfully, you still remembered the page you left off in the book you were reading, picking it up as you sat back in the spot you were in previously. having now showered and cleaned up, you were ready to resume your peaceful reading.

on the other side of the bed, kafka was still in the same position you had left her in. whether she had fallen asleep or passed out, you didn’t really care to know. and you could still see her body twitching occasionally; surely an after effect of your actions. well, it didn’t matter. you would finish your reading and go to sleep, and in the morning when you awoke again, she would already be gone.

—

when kafka awoke, the room was dark and you had long since fallen asleep. her body felt stiff and sore after what you did, but ultimately she can say gave her exactly what she needed. that you fucked her until she passed out was amazing in itself, but leaving her like that and going to sleep yourself was clinical. the coldness and disinterest from you that she can’t get enough of, her pussy throbbed as she observed your sleeping body, how easy it would be to use you to get off right now, rip off the damned clothes that hid your body from her hungry eyes.

instead she reels herself in; there was work to be done. biting down on her bottom lip, she drags her spent body off the bed, only now realising the huge stains left on the sheets. she assumes embarrassment is what she should be feeling now, but instead she finds a pen and some paper.

i’ll pay for the sheets. my apologies, you were just too good. ♡

as she leaves your residence, kafka pulls out her phone. thinking back to your words earlier, she smiles as she drafts a message scheduled to be sent to you.

‘i’ll be coming over again tomorrow night. don’t say i didn’t schedule an appointment with you.’

#you know that line that kafka has saying that because of the nature of her work she rarely sees the same person twice ??#YUP #down bad needy kafka i like it #hc that her body is more sensitive because of her lack of ability to feel emotions #ok she’s starting to grow on me okay #like her text messages are kinda cute OKAY WHATEVER #honkai star rail #kafka #kafka x reader #kafka smut #sub kafka #dom!reader #sub honkai star rail #honkai star rail kafka #also somno kafka ???? lowkey an idea ???#how come i only thought of it at the end #and yes i intentionally made their dynamic like that ok #bc kafka is probably used to people fawning over her #anything she wants she can just control #but not you #bc you’re y/n ofc you’re special #obviously LMAO #six.writes #anyway #YUP it got better tbh i really didn’t know what i was writing at the start #and if my writing is weird pls tell me i’ve honestly lost my touch it took me so long to get it together #be honest and actually give like constructive criticism

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unexpectedbrickattack · 11 months

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babpy.

#pizza tower #peppino #arts #mine #happy pride; heres a little otter for u #hes like very early 20s here #happy and unbothered before the Horrors happened #it is NOT his 30s bc he needs to exude raw dilf energy by that point #but for now he is anxious and sweet and awkward #not that i dont draw him like that already but its like 10x here #its PALPABLE #okay mwah i will hopefully come back w more than just sketches that mean nothing skjfsdjkfdhfhsk #i have LITERALLY been on this commission for WEEKS i need someone to take me out back and put me out of my misery i swear #im going to finish the lines TODAY like i cant be this person i cant keep coming back to this fucking comm w no progress ill simply Die #its like singlehandedly preventing me from doing anything else; its making a mental block waaaaaaaau #but i feel like i am breaking through it today. at least i HOPE i am sdkjfsdjkfjsdkf #um if u are still here ilu. send me some anons; i want to be chatty but the messages i have feel like i need to respond w essays #and i literally. cannot.#at least until i get my head screwed on properly again

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02zhoonie · 10 months

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ceo! park jongseong (jay) x pregnant! fem reader texts

MDNI 18+ ONLY

content warnings: pregnancy (duh), sickness, a lot of sexting, implied unprotected sex, implied phone sex, daddy kink (sorry had 2 be done), breeding kink, cockwarming and overall i think you might fall for how sweet jay is :3

a/n: consider this my start into writing for enha… i always have many big ideas but it’s just too daunting to write them so i’m starting off small with text messages and even that took me like 4 hours 🔨🔨🔨 can’t stop thinking about dad!jay so maybe this might become a series… who knows please enjoy this filthy little thing and let me know if you want more ?

#jay smut #jay pregnant #jay enhypen smut #jay x reader enhypen #jay text message au #ceo jay #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #jay scenarios #jay #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hyung line #enhypen

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diesoonandsuffer · 2 years

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i think this is the vulcan equivalent of a proposal probably

#Why Did They Do This #spock was like oh the captain is sad. i will now profess my love and loyalty to him on the bridge in front of god and everyone #if uhura hadnt gotten that message kirk would have open mouth kissed him right there i think #anyway. feeling normal #fun fact the warm decent feeling line is in the next episode. choices they made.#tos rewatch #tos #kirk #spock #spirk #star trek

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hungwy · 4 months

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We missed the last train of the night due to the snow. It was the first snow Tokyo had in a while, apparently. None of us seemed dressed for that kind of wet cold. No gloves, just jackets, hats. We were worried for a little bit about how we would get back to the dorms. We waited a long time for a taxi. A long time. The snow had built up on everything in thick layers. I was used to snow but could not ignore how the cold penetrated my pocketed hands to the bone. We stood outside some building, I cannot remember now what it was, but freezing puddles formed around our shoes, kept liquid by some unseen heat source. The puddles reflected all the reds and blues and golds of the city lights. It was quiet for a city. I was tired.

A taxi finally arrived after a while. Just long enough to make its arrival a celebratory affair. We hurried inside it. I sat in the back, on the left, behind the passenger seat. My friends took the front seat and the seat next to me. Someone showed the driver the university address on their phone. In broken Japanese my friends both attempted small talk with the driver, an older man, but he seemed reticent, probably tired. I can't remember if he even responded with real words--probably focused on not crashing the taxi in the fresh slick snow. I knew how to drive in snow. I wonder, in all his long years, if he ever got used to it. The snow had been falling for some time now. Everything was capped in that snow, diffusing the golden glow of the street lights. Were they gold, I wonder? Maybe some were silver. I can't remember any more. It reflected the colors of the night, the still, freezing night which churned under an endless dark grey cloud. I'd seen those clouds before, in the winters of home, and they made me feel comfortable, warm, like a great blanket stretched across the sky.

I remember how the taxi cruised through the thin residential alleys of Tokyo, lined with small one- or two-story houses, stone fences barely interjecting between the property and the street. Most houses did not have their lights on. Fence after gate after fence after wall flickered past. I fell asleep, or pretended to be asleep, or failed to fall asleep, for a long while. I love sleeping in cars. I always have, since I was a kid.

It was a very long drive. I don't remember how I ended up back in the dorm. Where were we even coming from, then, when we missed our train? Were we split from a larger group? By ourselves, us three? Did we go out to eat, go to see some place? I don't remember any more. I remember the night, the cold, the snow, the frozen world, and the pleasant doom of knowing something would become a memory. Something I would regurgitate and reconsume in my mind until all the realness had left. The snow made sure the memory would become imaginary, picturesque. My eyes engulfed the fluttering, transient frames of the lamp-lit snowy streets. Those pictures which with use would eventually smear and blur into puddles of soft form and color, as they do even now. I wish I had written anything at all then. None of it would've been good, but just to preserve the detail, to remind myself of real, solid things. It's all slowly melting away, now, so soft

#this is not fiction. it is very real. and i needed to relive this in my head #originally this was going to be a one sentencer about how i miss messaging my friends on wechat and line. oh well

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becca-e-barnes · 4 months

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I’m feral for subby Bucky. I need him on the floor crying and begging for my pussy, a babbling bitch of a mess.

Okay love youuu💜

Maybe I've got too soft recently but I'm so into the thought of being sweet and gentle and encouraging with subby Bucky?

I can't stop thinking about how pretty he could look on his knees in dim bedroom lighting and the way it would accentuate those muscular thighs. He's naked, watching you, stroking his cock a little more frantically than you'd usually allow.

"Please." He sounds more composed than he looks and he's not afraid to keep eye contact with you while he begs.

"I need to feel you." He watches as you trail your finger gently across your own glistening sex, spreading your legs nice and wide so he's got a perfect view from the floor.

You don't respond. There's no sense in breaking a silence that heavy. Not when you know his mouth is watering, imagining the way you'll feel when you engulf his cock and then the way you'll taste while he licks his cum out of your freshly fucked pussy.

"I need you." He whispers, his mouth running faster than his brain. His dick throbs in his hand, precum dribbling down his shaft, over his fingers, making each stroke a little more slick.

"Then have me, sweetheart. I'm all yours." He didn't expect the softness in your voice or the way you tenderly hold his chin to pull him in for a kiss.

He's slipping just a little faster than he wants to but it feels lovely. He's safe, he's loved, he's free to explore interests he's never given much time to and it's all starting to feel quite comfortable and natural to him.

"I love you, I hope you know that." You whisper, kissing his forehead while you line his tip up to your entrance.

"Oh God." He whimpers, his head falling onto your shoulder because he can't look at you now. Not as he's pressing into you and you're being so gentle with him. It'll be overwhelming and he simply can't have that.

"I love how you make me feel. I love getting to see you like this." You coo softly, stroking the back of his head, enjoying his hot, erratic breathing on your neck.

Inch by inch, he slides inside you. It's slow and reverent and considerate and downright perfect.

"You don't need to last, sweetheart. Let me take care of you for now and we can go a little bit longer later." Your offer isn't one he can turn down. He's been too aroused for too long and taking the edge off is exactly what he needs so he can focus on your pleasure.

His thrusts from then on are much faster, his tip rubbing your sweet spot delightfully and while it's not enough to get you off, it leaves you arching yourself closer to him.

It doesn't take long for him to become a babbling mess, panting and moaning against your neck, begging to be allowed to cum inside you.

"I'm so proud of you." You remind him, holding him as close as you can. There is no closer than this; not with him inside you but it still feels important to be unreserved in how much you want him. "I'm so proud of you. It's okay sweetheart, I've got you. You're okay, I've got you."

You feel his hips stutter, his shaft pulsing and throbbing as he shoots his first load into you, buried as deep inside you as he can manage. There are a few tender moments where you just hold him, kissing his broad shoulders while he catches his breath, letting him get comfortable on your chest.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #sub!bucky #subby!bucky #needy!bucky #I have way too many Christmas presents still to get #and I have a tonne to wrap tonight to take to work this week #so many cards to write #I love giving gifts #and I'm always worried it's weird?#I was in a work meeting recently and someone messaged into the teams chat that they were jealous of my Stanely cup #I have the baby pink one and it comes everywhere with me #so I got her one that matches her vibe #she wears nothing but black and her nails are always a black French tip #so I got her the charcoal grey one #but I don't want it to be weird?#like I'm going to have to message her PA and try to find a way to line our schedules up so I can give it to her #it always makes me really nervous when I get a gift for someone that I know they're not expecting

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