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sintember · 10 months

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Sintember 2023 Prompts

Sintember's 2023 prompts! Hopefully this one is a bit more legible than last time.

Remember, you can start writing as soon as these prompts are posted, but submissions will only be checked for and posted in September.

Plain text versions of the prompts and little flavour texts are below the cut.

Not again - You thought it was done, it was over. You survived, you moved on. And yet the horror continues.

Family is everything - For some, they would kill for. For others, love is what keeps them together.

You didn't need that, did you? - From limbs to food to people. Surely you can do without.

The other side - What lies in the mirror, another dimension, even after death?

Isolation - People are so vulnerable when they are left on their own.

Can't even trust yourself - Something is happening to you, and you aren't safe from what it's making you.

Liar, Liar - If we ourselves are to suffer deception, our hands are no longer tied.

Mourning - What lengths would you go to in your grief? How do you show love to the dead?

Tempest - A storm, chaos, upheaval.

No consequences - What would you do if you knew you could get away with anything?

Commitment - We bind ourselves to each other in strange ways.

Tradition - We've always done things this way….

Modernity - …..but maybe we shouldn't.

You weren't supposed to enjoy that… - Are they judging you? Really??

Consumption - Sating desires with oblivion.

The more, the merrier - Group work can be fun, I swear.

Bonus holes - Use your imagination ; )

Dichotomies - Opposites attract, and all that.

Something 'Wholesome' - Who doesn't like a little fluff in the midst of all this sinning? Or you could make it awful too.

Waiting for the fall - Are you watching your enemies with hungry eyes, or is it you teetering on the edge?

No such thing as home - Nowhere is safe, nowhere, there is nowhere to go.

A journey - You will not be the same at the end of the road.

Write what you know - Take something personal, make it monstrous.

Fate - It always happens this way, but does it have to?

This just says 'I can do what I want' - Have an idea that you think is just 'too much'? Consider this the devil on your shoulder. Show us how bad you can get.

Old wounds - Did they ever stop hurting?

Mob Mentality - It's easy to lose yourself in a crowd.

Devotion - What does your soul yearn for?

Secrets - Kept or uncovered, they can do damage either way.

True Freedom - Write whatever you want! Go nuts, show nuts, wh- *gets taken out by the Tumblr hit squad*

#sintember #sintember 2023 #sintember prompts #sintember prompts 2023

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eddysocs · 2 years

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The Object Of Desire - Chapter One (A Fresh Face)

Summary: Someone new arrives at St. Mathilde's just as things calm down after the enigmatic Fiamma's departure. (AU where Fiamma returns to Spain before Miss G can take things too far.)

Word Count: 1,130

Warnings: Obsession, hints of future minor/adult relationship

A/N: Miss G will be referred to as Camille, as she was never addressed by a first name in the film.

Following Fiamma, Camille did not think she’d ever feel desire again. No one and nothing could ignite her passion as the strangely exotic girl once had. It broke something within her when Fiamma left. She’d never even gotten close to the girl, though no matter if she had, nothing would have been close enough for Camille's liking.

She performed her duties as she must, but lacking any of her usual luster and flair. She taught her girls their lessons and supervised her once treasured diving team, but her day to day always felt hollowed out; empty. She was positively devoid of feeling, and some days she wished only to scream. At least the rawness of her throat afterwards would be a feeling of some sort. Yet she resisted the urge.

It was torturous for Camille to not have something, or rather someone, to focus her thoughts. Someone to impress, charm, woo, that’s what she needed. She could regale the girls with tale after tale, both real and made up, but she never wanted attention from the masses. No, Camille wants singular devotion, one person to be sucked in by her as she is by her desire for them. And that was what was missing.

One morning, after suffering a particularly dull and dreary week prior, Camille woke up to a shift in the air. She wasn’t renewed with hope, but more of a cautious optimism. And it turns out she had a right to be optimistic. A new arrival was to brighten her day exponentially. It was at mealtime when she first crossed paths with the newest student at St. Mathilde's.

Aerla Grae came from Ireland. A recent incident that was not entirely divulged to Camille, had resulted in fifteen-year-old Aerla's transfer to the school. Camille was advised to keep a close eye on her. Following her colleague's gaze, Camille's own eyes first landed on Aerla, and she decided in that moment alone, that keeping watch of her was not going to be a problem.

Aerla sat alone at the end of one of the tables, keeping her distance from the other girls. Camille watched as she tucked her mass of red curls behind her ear in order to eat. Camille drew a deep, silent breath as she became transfixed by Aerla's every small movement.

It was apparent to her that she was nothing like Fiamma, not in looks, nor, Camille suspected, in personality, as Fiamma had been such a social creature, where it appeared Aerla had a much more individual nature. Aerla had also arrived here from another country, but that's where her similarity to Fiamma ended. Yet, all the same, Camille was utterly enchanted.

Spotting an open seat across the table from Aerla, Camille left her colleagues in favor of making the acquaintance of the newest member of their little school. As she slid into the vacancy, she caught the girl's attention. Aerla paused, fork halfway to her mouth, as the soft breeze from this stranger's arrival ghosted over her face. She sat down the bite of food and tilted her head, regarding the woman with curiosity.

"Miss Gribben," Camille introduced, offering her hand to Aerla from across the table. She briefly considered giving the girl her first name, but thought it best to stick to a more formal approach for now. Camille's heart leaped to her throat when Aerla took her hand to give it an awkward shake.

"Name's Aerla Grae, Miss," Aerla replied politely, though there was an edge to her voice that seemed to Camille as if the girl would rather have not been disturbed. At that, Camille should have left, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Instead, she stayed, remaining quiet so as not to disturb her further. Some of the other girls at the table cast suspicious glances down their way, but one glare from Camille and they went about their own business once more.

They were isolated at their end of the table, just as Camille wanted it to be. There was a danger in numbers. It had been that way with Fiamma. She vowed then that it would be different with Aerla. She wouldn’t let anyone come between them. Despite her efforts not to stare, Camille's eyes wandered back to Aerla time after time. She wanted to ask questions, get to know her, but the girl's standoffish tone gave her pause. She couldn’t push, or she’d resist, just as Fiamma had.

Camille attempted to push the thoughts of Fiamma out of her head. That was the past. She only need think of her in order to not repeat her past mistakes. It would only serve to depress and anger her to think of the wretched girl now. Now she had Aerla to think of. Aerla deserved her at her best, not sullen and moody. And she would prove herself in time. She just had to figure Aerla out and be what she needed her to be.

A thought nagged at the back of Camille's mind. In spite of herself, she voiced it. "Tell me, what exactly was it that brought you to St. Mathilde’s?"

Aerla seemed surprised by the question, as she froze, eyes widened. After she swallowed her bite of food, she answered with another question. "What have you been told?" She sounded accusatory, as if Camille already knew the truth of her situation and still wanted to hear the confession from her own lips.

"Only that there was an incident that resulted in you leaving your previous school for this one," Camille informed gently. Aerla seemed quick to anger, and that was the last thing Camille wanted to leave as a first impression.

"It was harmless," Aerla began in defense of herself, leaning in so as her story would reach Camille's ears only. "I kissed one of the girls at my last school." Camille's heart pounded in her chest at Aerla's admission. It began thudding so loudly in her ears that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hear the rest of Aerla's story. "We got caught in the stairway and the stupid girl blamed me. Said I'd taken advantage of her, when she wanted me to do it, but was too ashamed to admit to it. So I was expelled and sent here. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you. They had no problem telling everyone else as if I’m some sort of monster."

"You're not a monster," Camille was quick to reply. "You followed your heart, your desire, and that is the most important thing in life." This elicited a smile from Aerla, as Camille suspected she may have been the first one to stand up for her and take her side in this matter. Perhaps this would be her way into Aerla's heart.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-> Chapter Two

Aerla Tag: @borg-queer, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

#oc: aerla grae #fc: francesca capaldi #fd: cracks #miss g #miss g x oc #miss gribben #miss gribben x oc #cracks #cracks 2009 #aerla x camille #sintember #sintember 2022

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 8 months

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I'm wondering, where do you get your prompts for your fic "Sleep With the Bodies While the Blood Still Drips" ?

The @sintember event!

#sintember #sintember 2023 #dead dove do not eat #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar series

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highonmarvel · 8 months

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Isolation

Steve Rogers: Steve comes back.

An entry for Day 5 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Prompt: Isolation, ft Steve Rogers (Captain America) of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Warnings: NON-CON, signs of declining mental health, captivity, 18+!

When Steve first put you in his basement, you nearly scoffed at the cliché: prisoner in the basement, like he couldn’t be bothered to be even slightly more creative. That was a few days ago, you think. You really had no way of telling. You remember screaming and banging on the door—you can still see the faint lines your nails scrapped onto it—but you can’t remember when that was. At first you counted a day as the next time you woke up, but you gave up, not because it’s obviously wildly inaccurate, but because you lost count of that, too.

You were hungrier than comfortable, but by no means starving, so maybe in that way it couldn’t have been too long, right? Without change, there is no time, and there has been no change in the basement since… however long it’s been. You couldn’t even rule out it had been months, though evidently ridiculous as that was considering your relative physical health (or, at least, as far as you can tell, or as far as you’re willing to believe), your sense of trust is out of balance.

Steve had been your best friend, you trusted him most, you never for a split moment thought he would hurt you. Steve, who’d you known all your life, time, as well, you’d known all your life: if you couldn’t trust Steve, could you trust your sense of time? You didn’t realise how much people rely on time, even when they have nothing important to attend to; time is the one constant, hours pass whether you want them to or not: you have no constant now.

You sit on the mattress (stained with a little blood you assume must be your own) hugging your knees to your chest, staring straight ahead. You weren’t going mad, you hadn’t had any hallucinations, had you?

Down here, there had only been the sounds you made—your breathing, your screaming, your crying—but your ears prick at an unfamiliar noise. It’s not unfamiliar, really, just one you haven’t heard in a while. Metal, not a lot, shifting around…

A key in a lock!

You scramble to stand up just as Steve pushes open the door, and your eyes lock immediately. You can’t help but notice even now he still has that superhero stance, his posture, standing tall and strong; assuring to everyone else, intimidating to you. But you refuse to allow yourself to be intimidated.

Steve doesn’t say anything as he begins his decent down the stairs; he looks away, but you stay fixated on him. When he reaches the floor, he turns to you with a smile.

No thought, you just sprint.

You dart towards the steps, but he easily scoops you up, and you’re bent over his shoulder, screaming as you hit your fists against his toned back and kick your legs uselessly in the air.

Another sound you hear, it sounds familiar, sounds like words being formed by a noise different to the one you make when you speak. It’s so bizarre to hear Steve speaking, so bizarre to hear anyone speaking but yourself after all (?) this time of hearing the same melody. It’s so bizarre, in fact, that you don’t really even register it, what he’s saying, until you’re dropped onto the mattress on the floor, falling quite a way (relative to what you would be used to hopping into bed) with a shriek.

“I’ve been alone, too,” he says, towering over you, blocking the single light that illuminates the basement, the light that hasn’t once turned off since you were thrown down here, it hasn’t even flickered.

He suddenly drops to his knees, straddling you. This position feels familiar, too; his knees caging you as you writhe under him in distress; it feels like the second time, now. It is the second time. And the first time this happened it ended with you being literally thrown into his basement. What would he do when he was done this time?

“Look…” he gently raises your right hand to his eyes, examines it, and then tilts it to display your nails to you; they’re bitten down so bad you’re bleeding, or maybe you’re bleeding from clawing at the door, either way, they’re damaged, fairly badly, and you stare back at your own fingers in shock. How could you not have noticed this?

“When you’re alone,” he says, gently, softly laying your hand back down to your side, “You hurt yourself. That’s why you need to stay with me.”

Right! You were at his place, as usual, and as you were falling asleep when he started, started speaking about how you needed to stay with him, because you needed him. Though while he violated you, he spewed the opposite.

“I need you…” he grunted.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, but that memory seems to be replaying in front of your very eyes, a huge wave of déjà vu crashing over you as Steve strokes the side of your face. You slap his hand away, and that loving gaze he’d been showering you in turns dark. You try to throw a punch to his jaw but he catches your wrists and gives you a disapproving look. It’s extremely frustrating this seems to be so easy for him.

With nothing else to do, you start kicking and screaming; you’re sure it won’t accomplish anything, but you refuse to just roll over and accept this, no. You twist and turn under him until, to your surprise, he raises himself just high enough for you to turn all the way over. Before you can comprehend your little freedom, he brings his knees back down to the back of your own, and though it’s evident he’s not using all his weight, it’s still enough to make you cry out.

He lets his knees fall to the sides and manages to restrict your movements enough to tug your shorts down.

You want to scream No! but after all this time, you’re not sure if your voice can work to form actual words; you’ve only been screaming and sobbing for days. Or hours? Since he left, you haven’t spoken since he left, and you’re not sure if you can now.

You hear him spit in his hand and his soft groans as he strokes himself, and you’re lucky you can’t see it. You try to claw at his legs as you feel him line up with your entrance but he manages to pull your wrists together and shove them into your back.

He enters you slowly and with a soft groan, tears springing to your eyes as you sob, incoherent; you’re sure you’d plead with him to stop if you could. He ignores you and thrusts deep, in and out; you’re sure his careful movements may have looked loving and respectful to someone on the outside, yet it was anything but, despite what he’d have you believe.

“I need you…”

⍟

#sintember 2023 #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x you #soft!dark!steve #soft!dark!steve rogers #yandere steve rogers

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yandere-sins · 2 years

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Boss

Let’s be honest I am around booktok too much, but mmmmhm vampires, amirite?

Fandom: Original Content Pairings: Yandere!Vampire x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Innuendos, Violence (Biting Mention, Death Mention off-screen, Whipping Mention, Blood Mention), Slavery in terms of vampires being superior over humans, Mention of selling blood for services, “Blood Virgins/Blood Mates”, Reader gets brought up under cult-like circumstances, Reader is supposed to get auctioned off

Prompt: @sintember Taboo - Polite, civilised people don’t do these sorts of things. But some choose not to care.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

The sound of laughter and glasses clinking together reached you.

A bustle of noise, hushed voices, and polite questions echoed through the room. You were all the more receptive to it, with your eyes blindfolded and your senses sharpening. The air was heavy with cigar smoke and flowery perfumes, and despite not being able to see, you felt a strong light shine down on you as you kneeled on the floor, two burly men standing next to you and keeping you sitting upright.

Even though you knew what was going to happen, you gulped, feeling nervous.

You had waited for this day for the better part of your—still young—life. Your coming of age had been ritualized and celebrated, and you were washed, clothed, and prepared for the occasion. Many nights you had wished the day would never come. The other girls and boys you grew up with and lived with until your early adulthood, liked to tell horror stories about your future as much as they liked to romanticize all of it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, revered guests!" The booming voice coming close to you made you flinch, tearing you out of your memories. You had been waiting for this moment all your life, but it still surprised you, perhaps a given without being able to see. The voices around you slowly died down, a few last laughs being exchanged before the room got quiet, and you heard your heartbeat quicken, resulting in a constant thrumming in your head.

"We've come together today to decide the fate of our lovely blood virgin!"

Fingers brushed beneath your jaw, urging you to let your head fall back and show your neck. The touch of who you assumed must have been the auctioneer was almost reverently gentle, which made sense for ware as precious as you were. Truth be told, you never thought of yourself as especially pretty or incredibly clever. Still, the delightful moans going through the crowd as you presented your perfectly unscathed neck went straight to your ego, tingling your core and sending heat to your head which seemed to rouse the people's passion even more.

People might have been a stretch. In a world ruled by vampires, someone like you—a blood virgin, unbitten and kept locked away until you were ripe to be sold—was a delicacy. Usually, every remaining human had a bite or a dozen on them, selling their blood for loans and protection. Even your instructors had them, and you weren't shielded from the ugly truths about how much biting hurt and how humans were barely better than cattle to vampires. That was, frankly said, what scared you.

Someone like you, who was prepared from childhood to be property, had no rights and no means of saving yourself from what was to come. Sure, the other blood virgins liked to dream about being taken in as personal blood slaves to some wealthy, handsome vampires that would spoil them and treat them as well as a human could be expected to be treated. But you didn't believe in that. You only believed in the screams you heard as you walked to the room your big sister had been brought to after her auction. No one had stood guard, and you fearfully took a glimpse through the keyhole. Only to hear gurgles and see… blood. So much blood.

Your sister never came back.

Even when they tried to tell you she was merely taken to the vampire that bought her, you didn't believe it after what you saw. And you didn't believe there was any hope for you either. When the touch of the auctioneer slipped beneath the velvety blindfold, you wished you could have kept it on. You didn't want to see the faces of murderers enjoying their lives. You didn't want to see the vampire that would take you from your home. You had been trained for this occasion your whole life, but in the end, you weren't ready.

No matter how well they had whipped good behavior into your body, you couldn't do it. When the blindfold lifted from your face, appreciative murmurs going through the mass below the stage, your world seemed to slow down. For a few seconds, your anxiety made everything come to a halt as you breathed heavily. The spotlight shining down on you hurt your eyes, and you couldn't see anything really, in the darkness below the stage you were on. But in a moment of fear-induced clarity, you knew this was your only chance. The only moment they didn't expect you to act.

Before you could think it through, you bolted.

Slipped right out of the guards' grip and pushed aside the gentle auctioneer, not even having seen that man's face if he even was one. Your feet lost their footing as you couldn't see where the stage ended, dropping you off the edge into soft but smelly carpet floor. Your body was pounding blood through it, making it thrum in your ears and filling you with adrenaline. The sound of the crowd gasping in surprise barely reached you as your mind was filled with the symphony of your body and the desire to escape.

You got up before anyone could reach you in time, just running forward despite not seeing anything in the darkness yet. Vaguely, the humanoid shapes of the guests darted by you as you hoped to reach the end of the room to escape it. You'd not end up like your sister. That was your only thought as you hurled your body into a door, fumbling to find a door handle to push it open.

This wasn't normal. You shouldn't have to accept your fate as cattle for vampires, a blood bank for just one night. Even if all your life led up to this moment, no one should have the right to treat you as less than worthy of living. It was insane to just sit and wait for someone to buy you so they could drink your blood and kill you when they had no use for you anymore. You never even kissed someone, much less experienced the world outside of the walls of the monastery where you were kept!

Finally, you managed to push the door open, slipping out the smallest gap you managed to pry open while you felt dozens of hands reach for you from behind. Hungry, greedy hands wanting to pull you back and devour you with hair and skin. They didn't care if you got hurt or even if you were still alive when they got to you, but now that you broke the most important rule—absolute obedience—you were free game. Monsters. All of them!

But you did it! You escaped them! And as you threw the door back in its lock behind you, a smile of relief painted your lips, knowing you made it. Your body's ache returned as you blindly ran into solid matter, forcing you to stumble back against the door as the way forward was blocked off. Not even your hands could have saved you from the wall right where you slipped out, and your senses slowly returned, the adrenaline running dangerously low now that you felt accomplished. Behind you, growly, angry vampires crashed into the wood, shaking the door and slamming their fists into it, no one managing to actually open the exit in their frenzy. All while you stayed still as a mouse, listening to their curses and then a tongue clicking right before you.

"Well-behaved and trained blood slaves don't act this way, you know? Running and creating a fuss. For what? You think you can outrun them?"

You flinched as someone crashed into the wood at your back, the man talking to you taking a step forward, caging you between him and the door, keeping the exit barred with his strength. No, once again, this was no man. With a soothing, deep voice and an expensive scent coming from him, he couldn't be human. Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to look up from beneath your lashes, the spare lightning in the hallway barely enough to illuminate all of his body. Expensive metal accessories decorated him, throwing back the light at you, but the rest was coated in darkness with only the red of his eyes shining through.

It might have been naive to think you could escape, but at least, you had nothing to lose now.

"Civilized and decent beings wouldn't auction off blood virgins into their death."

"Oh?" he hummed, amused by you speaking back. Even if your voice was barely more than a whisper and a shaky one at that, your words seemed to have reached him. Inwardly, however, you cringed. Talking back to a vampire was a big no-no, and this taboo had been burned into your very soul. Even though... you had to admit it felt kind of good to finally speak your mind. You felt his hand fall to your hair, letting the strands you had been forced to grow out, glide through his fingers, his touch running cold shudders down your spine. Without being able to see him properly and predict his movements, everything felt so much worse again, like you were back on the stage, blindfolded and devoted to your duty.

"But we don't kill our blood virgins, you know?" he tried to explain, but it only made you angrier. Of course, he'd say that.

"Liar!" you barked, surprising yourself at how strong the word left you. But you meant it, and seeing him recoil in surprise for a split second felt like a victory. If you could at least shock one of them before your inevitable death, you already achieved more than most blood virgins.

"I am not a liar," he hissed, leaning forward and pressing his body into yours. "I can't speak for everyone, but a blood virgin is a commitment forever. Once we drink the blood of one, it's the only blood we'll want, and they become our blood mates for the rest of their lives. Do you understand?"

Your mind was fighting against you to believe him, but somehow, his words sounded more genuine than you expected them to be. He spoke them with pride and conviction. Clearly, he could be lying, his honeyed voice trying to soothe you for the bite, but why would he say these things then?

"It's an obsession, pure delightful need that we want to constantly satisfy. You humans would call it… love? We want our blood mates to always be around us, and no one is allowed to touch or taste them except us. Much less kill them, little human."

"I…" you mumbled, trying to process the information you were given. But all of this didn't change your mind about the whole thing. "I don't want that… I would rather die than be someone's property like this."

"We'll see about that," he huffed, his hand gripping your arm as he pulled you back into his chest, finally allowing the door to open, bodies falling out of it that you assumed were the staff members. They groaned and slowly got up, but their sounds fell silent just as quickly, and a voice you recognized as the auctioneer perked up, hesitantly addressing the man that pressed you against his body.

"S-Sir! What a pleasure to see you! We had a small hiccup, but the auction will resume any second now!"

"No need," he waved him off, and you felt his cold hand grip the clothes you were wearing, giving off a possessive vibe. "I will take this one for myself. The auction is off; you can send everyone home."

"B-But, Boss…" the auctioneer stammered, and your eyes widened, body tensing as goosebumps erupted all over your skin hearing the auctioneer call this man his boss. Without much regard for the poor auctioneer left to handle all the angry guests grumbling behind him, you were dragged away by the auction boss, the one in charge of raising and selling the blood virgins. The most evil one of them all.

And as you stared into his face, occasionally lit by the lights in the hallway and too handsome for such a creature, no signs of aging or care about anything other than his selfish desires, his eyes found yours, a grin curling on his lips.

"We'll see if you'll still refuse to be mine when I give you pleasure beyond what you'll ever know. One you'll never get from anyone but me, Darling."

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leetolgoblin · 8 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers Characters: Spike (BtVS) Additional Tags: Sintember 2023, Day 8 - Mourning, he makes my fucking heart ache folks Summary:

Buffy is dead. Spike doesn't know what to do with himself. He knows it hurts. He knows it should.

@sintember

#sintember 2023 #day 8 #buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy

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bloodred2023 · 8 months

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For the @sintember event day 14: You weren’t supposed to enjoy that…

No glass this time (1662 words) by betweentwowxrlds Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Far Cry 3 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Jason Brody/Vaas's Pirates Characters: Jason Brody, Vaas Montenegro's Pirates Additional Tags: Sintember 2023, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Handcuffs, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Hand Jobs, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-Consensual Kissing, Threats of Violence, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Mentioned Drugging, mentioned vomiting Summary: Jason wants to spend his afternoon on his own, but Vaas’s men have other plans for him.

#sintember 2023 #Day 14 #far cry 3 #my writing

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captain-hawks · 8 months

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@ the nonnie who sent me *that* Osamu kinktober request: ily. i literally lost my car in a parking lot because i opened my phone to that and every other reasonable thought swiftly left my brain 🥵

#some kinktober combos just really make my brain go brrrrrr #if I’m prepping the requests now does that make this Sintember #Slutember????#Whorevember is right around the corner too #wait wait wait COCKTOBER #ok I’m done

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romiyaro · 2 years

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7 ժҽąժӀվ ʂìղʂ ąէ վօմɾ ժօօɾʂէҽք

❣ — ᴀ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴅ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʏ 7 ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ

❣ — ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀ ꜰʀᴇᴇ, ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ꜰɪᴄꜱ

❣ — ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍꜱ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ

❣ — ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ @blueparadis ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ @angels-aesthetic !!!

... ℓєт тнєм ιη?

▶ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴛᴏ @ʀᴏᴍɪʏᴀʀᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪɴᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ!

▶ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʜᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ

▶ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ

▶ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ꜱᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

σн, вυт ∂ι∂ уσυ нανє α ¢нσι¢є?

✔ 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 - @megumischubbycheeks

✔ 𝕲𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖉 - @munsonsins

✔ 𝕷𝖚𝖘𝖙 - @nahoyas-nymph

✔ 𝖂𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖍 - @nkogneatho

✔ 𝕰𝖓𝖛𝖞 - @blueparadis

✔ 𝕲𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖞 - @garoujo

✔ 𝕾𝖑𝖔𝖙𝖍 - @romiyaro

#[ ro.hosted collabs ]#[ sinsofseptember ]#[ sintember navi ]

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sintember · 2 years

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Sintember 2022 Prompts

Here are the prompts for Sintember 2022! If the image is unreadable, I deeply apologize. Luckily, all of the prompts are listed (with little blurbs!) under the cut. All of the Free Day Friday prompts are designed to be much vaguer than the other prompts.

Obsession - Love? Hate? Lust? Fear? Worship? Whatever the case, it’s all they can think about.

Free Day Friday: Phobia - Pick your favourite (or perhaps even least favourite) fear and go wild with it.

Coercion - Subtle application of threat, the brute force of physicality, or could it be someone’s will itself working into their brain?

Intoxication - Drugs, alcohol, hormones running rampant and space sex pollen, the senses are not quite lost, but the will to struggle is gone.

“Well, the usual methods didn’t work, so...” - An escalation. What do those above want from the one below, and what will they do to get it?

Life must go on - If there is one thing to be said about life, it is that it comes at the expense of others’.

Power imbalance - So many ways for one to have advantages over the other.

The tables have turned - And so many ways for those advantages to slip from their grasp. Is it revenge or fear that motivates what comes next, or was it an act all along?

Free Day Friday: Blorbo - Is there a character (or more than one) you just need to do something to? Now’s the time to do it. This can be a character from anywhere, including your own head!

Eldritch Horrors - Twisting minds, twisting depths, slithery limbs that shift and grasp and pull you deeper into the madness.

Transformation - Becoming comes with pain, with loss. What skin do you shed, and what steps into new moonlight?

Captivity - How long has it been? Does the sound of your captor getting closer bring fear or hope. Has it been long enough to become joy?

Possession - To belong to someone, to have them wash over you, erasing you, becoming you. Did you ask for this? Does it matter?

Taboo - Polite, civilised people don’t do these sorts of things. But some choose not to care.

“You didn’t think I was going to touch you, did you...?” - Is that contempt you hear, pity? Or the threat of something else out of sight? Don’t they know how cruel it is to play with your emotions?

Free Day Friday: Philia - Got a kink or a paraphilia? Is there never enough content for it? You know what to do.

Lost and ‘Alone’ - You could die out here if you can’t find humans soon. Maybe that would be better.

Heaven and Hell - The rapture of being utterly known, utterly loved. The exquisite torture of the very same.

It was an accident! - You swear you didn’t mean to do it. Some might even believe you.

“That’ll teach you where to put your fucking fingers” - Consequences, a touch unwanted, a thief, a rebellion. Teach them better.

No one will believe you - There’s no one to help, no one to trust, do you even believe yourself?

Make a mess - There won’t be anything left pretty after this.

Free Day Friday: Creature - Monsters, beasts, cryptids galore. We can’t let those humans think they run the show.

Overwhelmed - There’s too much, too much. You can’t scream, you can’t think. you can’t breathe. When will it be over?

You got yourself into this mess - It is your fault, but did you deserve this? Could anyone?

Death - A simple thing, in the end.

Disgust - Things that slither and ooze, the constant decay of the earth beneath your feet. The things that make us sick, so we turn our heads and do our best to forget.

Why did nobody listen? - A threat ignored, the devastation wrought. Will you survive it alone, to remember their folly? Or will it consume you as well?

Healing, or so they say - Why did it hurt to be fixed. Did they make you perfect just to ruin you again?

Free Day Friday: True Freedom - Write anything you want! Anything.

#sintember #sintember 2022 #sintember prompts #sintember prompts 2022

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sasusc · 2 years

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Decided to write a little quick something for Sintember 2022.

Title: Mine

Author: Sasusc

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene

Rating: M

Summary: Written for Sintember 2022, Prompt Day 13 "Possession". Pure smut, PWP. Beth Greene belongs to Daryl and everyone will know it now.

#sintember 2022 #bethyl #beth and daryl #daryl dixon #bethyl fanfic #beth greene #team delusional #beth lives #shameless smut

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eddysocs · 2 years

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Performance Review (Jeri Hogarth x OC)

Summary: At the end of the workday, Jeri isn’t quite ready to be done with Quinn, and decides to play a little game with her.

Word Count: 1,002

Warnings: Power imbalance, role play, cunnilingus, orgasm delay, office sex

"Quinn, my office." Jeri's voice broke over the intercom just as Quinn was packing up to go home for the night.

Quinn pressed the button to reply and bent down so Jeri could hear her clearly. "But I was just about to—"

"Now," came the stern interruption, and Quinn set down her things Everyone else may have been leaving, but Jeri was not someone she wanted to argue with if she could avoid it. With a sigh, she braced herself at Jeri's door and turned the knob.

"I’d like to talk about your future here," Jeri began.

"Okay," Quinn replied, drawing out the word while trying to figure out what Jeri meant. She tried to keep her confusion from becoming apparent on her face, in case this was something that Jeri had mentioned to her that she’d somehow forgotten.

"I know you haven’t been here long, but it is the time of year for employee performance reviews."

"Performance reviews," Quinn questioned, searching Jeri's face to make some sort of sense out of this. Jeri waited her out. The spark of realization ignited in Quinn's eyes and Jeri smiled. "Right," Quinn starts to play along, smiling politely. "I must have forgotten those were today."

"Well then," Jeri started, getting up from her chair and circling around to the front of her desk until she was standing in front of Quinn, "perform. I may have taken you in out of the goodness of my heart, but you have to earn the right to remain my assistant."

Goodness of her heart? Ooh, she really was playing. But Quinn didn’t mind playing her part. It’s not like it was difficult. It was Jeri after all, and Quinn had always had it bad for her, since the moment Jessica Jones had introduced the two of them. And if Jeri wanted to spice things up by initiating a little roleplay in the office, then so be it. She was game.

Quinn dropped to her knees in front of Jeri, her hands already beginning to push Jeri's black skirt up her thighs. She only paused when Jeri reached down and put a finger under her chin, tilting Quinn's head up so she could meet her eyes. "Just so we're clear," Jeri purred, "if I were you, I’d do my best, or I will fire you for real. And you know you won’t win in the court case if you sue for sexual harassment."

While Quinn couldn’t be certain if this was part of Jeri's game or not, she dare not question it. Instead, she nodded, a look of pure innocence painting her features, as if her only aim was to please her, and really, that wasn’t far off from the truth. Jeri leaned back against her desk as Quinn brought her black silk panties down her legs, where Jeri helped to kick them off, sending them sliding across the office floor.

When it was her time to shine, Quinn didn’t hold back. She had a good sense of what Jeri liked by now, and how she liked it, so Quinn pulled out all her little tricks to assure Jeri would be putty in her hands, or rather, on her tongue, as the case may be.

Jeri gripped the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles went white as she used all her strength to stay upright. Quinn had certainly never been bad in bed, but she’d never been quite this good, either. Had she been holding out on her all this time? Jeri wasn’t able to think on it long, as her mind quickly clouded over with an overwhelming feeling of lust. What Quinn was doing to her body surpassed any logical or rational thought she may have been having at the time.

Jeri bit back a moan, not wanting to concede to Quinn just yet. But Jeri was already so close that it was becoming harder and harder not to just give over and let herself come. She hadn’t designed this little game as a competition, but now that she was losing, that’s how she was treating it. And if there was one thing Jeri hated, it was losing.

Quinn could hear Jeri's ragged breaths as Jeri fought to control her own orgasm. She may be able to win any legal case thrown her way, but like hell if Quinn was going to let her win this. Leave it to Jeri to make even sex a competition.

Quinn never relented. When she figured out Jeri was holding back, she doubled her efforts. Surprised, Jeri let a whimper escape her lips. A whimper of all things. Jeri cursed under her breath at the sign of weakness. That’s when Quinn knew she had her. Now, Quinn did the one thing that never failed to make Jeri come, and she felt Jeri's legs begin to shake.

"Fuck," Jeri cursed, angry at having lost her own game. But she allowed herself to lose, grabbing Quinn by the hair and holding her head in place as she rode out her orgasm. If she had to lose at something, this was the best possible outcome.

As her body calmed, Jeri's grip on her desk lessened, her fingers stiff from the force of her hold on it. She released Quinn's hair as well, a few stray blonde strands floating to the ground from being tugged on just a bit too hard.

Quinn stood up, maintaining her place between Jeri's legs. She wore a self satisfied grin on her face, and if Jeri's head hadn’t still been so muddled with the after effects of her orgasm, she would have wanted to slap that look right off of her. Quinn moved to wipe her face with the back of her hand, but Jeri caught her arm before she could. Pulling her in, Jeri kissed Quinn passionately, feverishly, reveling in the taste of herself on Quinn's lips and tongue.

"Have I earned my place," Quinn asked teasingly.

"I think you’ve more than proved your worth," Jeri replied.

Quinn Anderson: @adrianas-ocs-and-such, @borg-queer, @sintember

#oc: quinn anderson #fc: ester exposito #fd: marvel #quinn x jeri #jeri hogarth #jeryn hogarth #jeri hogarth x oc #jessica jones #marvel #sintember #sintember 2022

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knot-ilus · 2 years

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Maternal Obsession

The first piece of fiction I've sat down to write and finish in years, and my first written piece for @sintember 's month of delightfully sinful prompts ^^ !

Day 1: Obsession - Love? Hate? Lust? Fear? Worship? Whatever the case, it’s all they can think about.

Featuring: original characters, a mother/underaged son pairing. Word count: 1k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, incest, (extremely) underage, medical neglect, rape, infantalization, fantasizing about cannibalism, descriptions of being pregnant and complications while giving birth.

This work isn't for everyone and contains material that may be upsetting, so please be careful if you decide to read it and let me know if there's any other warnings I need to add. Thank you! –🪢

———

These days, nothing ever seems to be enough for her.

It isn't enough to hold him close, the peak of her breast held in his mouth while his prick prods against her hip. It isn't enough to feel joined at the place he came from, either, to know that at least part of him had returned to her– she wants more. She wants him to climb back into her warmth, to be a part of her again... It's cruel that the two of them had ever been seperated in the first place, she thinks with a forlorn sigh.

"Mama?" Her baby's voice stirs her from her thoughts and she smiles, cupping his cheek as she meets his sleepy gaze. He gives her a small, concerned frown as he continues, "you looked sad just now."

"I was just thinking about something silly," she dismisses, kissing his forehead and letting her hand drift down to stroke along his spine. She's a firm believer that skin-on-skin contact is just as important six years into a child's life as it was on day one. And she takes every precaution she can to make sure no one has the opportunity to tell her otherwise. "...do you remember the story of how you were born, baby?"

"Uh-huh," he says with a little grin, having heard it a million times but seeming to enjoy retelling it as much she does. "I grew really big in your belly, because you didn't want me to leave, and I didn't, either."

"They had to take you out of me by force," she continues the story, her eyes misting a bit as she hugs him closer. It didn't matter how many times they went over the story together, the memory would never fail to make her emotional. "That's how much we loved being together. That's how close we still are, baby..."

He hugs her back, and her heart aches at the size and strength of his arms. He's always growing bigger, always soaring past milestones that make him less dependant on her– the quacks at the pediatrician clinic had said that he was actually behind his peers in terms of development, but she stopped taking him there. She's going to cling to every last bit of the baby in her baby boy, thank you very much. She'll never let go, never–

"Mama," he whispers, soft but still enough to ground her again. Her precious little anchor, her everything... He pecks her lips, holding her face in his chubby fingers. "Do you want me to go back in?"

She wants to cry at his thoughtfulness, at how he always seems to know just what she wants. Right on cue, he kisses her mouth again, holding still for her to kiss back and sob a bit into it.

"Yes, baby," she manages, smiling as she nuzzles his cheek and rearranges them so that his hips are slotted between her thighs. He purses his lips into that cute little pout he always makes when he's focusing, and already she feels the feeling of desperate need begin to ebb. The tension in her muscles melts further as the tip of his cock nudges against her opening, and she coos, "Right where you belong..."

She spreads her lips, guiding him forward by his buttocks to slip right inside of her, and he whimpers at the sensation of being engulfed by her warmth. She wraps her legs and arms around him, wriggling her hips to feel him press against her inner walls. A tiny squeak leaves his lips at the movement, and she relishes in the way he presses even closer, closer still...

She misses how he used to press against her from the inside, his tiny feet playfully exploring the walls of her womb. She misses being able to hold one hand to her ever-extending tummy, the other on her clit, while imagining he could feel all the pleasure that she could. She wasn't exaggerating when she said the hospital staff had forced him out of her– they'd graciously kept it off of her files, chalking it up to the delirious urges of a single mother giving birth alone, but nobody in the roomed missed it when she reached down and tried to keep her baby from crowning.

What wouldn't she do to keep him as close as possible? Every year he's bound to grow more independent, more eager to leave her side... She unconsciously digs her fingers into his soft, perfect skin as she contemplates making sure he can never leave. She could eat him bit by bit until his body becomes part of hers once more... She'd swallow him whole if she could, if only to feel her stomach bulge outward at the size of him again, the two of them becoming as inseperable as the day he first formed within her womb--

Her baby cums with his prick buried as deeply inside of her warmth as it can reach, his cry of pleasure muffled against her skin. The intimacy of the act tips her over the edge she'd already been narrowly balanced on, having become excited by her ever-spiraling fantasies. She groans softly in satisfaction, kissing the side of his head and ear over and over again until he squirms from overstimulation, releasing him with a chuckle.

"Mama, it's all wet, now," he gasps with a giggle, caught between wanting to pull his cock away from the intense stimulation of her cunt and wanting to hide it away from the cooler air of their bedroom.

"I'll keep it warm while I get the bath ready, okay?" She promises, gently cupping his crotch as she lifts him up and into her arms-- her perfect baby is still small enough to carry, she notes with glee. "After that, it's time for breakfast and then we'll continue your lessons."

"Okay!" He lets her carry him as always, taking a moment to affectionately press his cheek against her collarbone, and her heart melts.

The world might do everything in its power to seperate them, hell– time itself seems to be an enemy of what they have together. But for now her sweet baby is just as eager to be close to her as she is to him, and she'll cherish every second of it.

#sintember 2022 #first prompt done ^^ !!#wr🪢ting #Cw within post

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highonmarvel · 8 months

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Can’t even trust yourself

Loki: Strange nights affect your days.

An entry for Day 6 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Warnings: NON-CON, nightmares, severe anxiety and paranoia, possible psychosis, 18+!

Prompt: Cant’t even trust yourself, ft Loki of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

For the 11th night in a row you startle awake with a gasp, heart hammering, body sweating so much you can’t go back to sleep without taking a shower. You had been having these strange dreams for nearly a year now, but the last month or two they had been so vivid they felt more real than life itself.

You drag yourself out of bed, trying to slow your breathing as you make your way to the bathroom. The worst part is you don’t even really remember these dreams, just that they leave you panicked and weak and sore all over, but particularly your breasts, between your thighs, and your neck; blame it on your lack of sex.

You flick on the light in the bathroom and turn to the mirror. You shriek and nearly jump back in shock at your reflection. Where your neck feels tender, there’s a purple bruise spreading across your skin. You try to smudge it off, hoping it was fucking paint or something, who cares, you were just hoping it wasn’t really a bruise… not a bruise like that. No matter how hard you wipe it, it doesn’t come off. It’s just a random bruise, you tell yourself, some people bruise easily, maybe you hurt yourself and didn’t notice. Yeah. Though, still, as you stand under the flow of boiling water, so hot you wonder how it hasn’t burnt your skin off, you scrub violently at the mark. It’s still there when you take another look in the mirror.

After barely getting any sleep last night, you’re exhausted in the morning as you made your way to the office. Whether or not you usually get coffee, you know you’d physically need it today, and so you take a quick detour to the café across the street. You’re happy to see the cheerful blue-eyed barista is working this morning, and happy the place is near empty; only a tall figure in front of you in the line and a pair of scattered young people bent over laptops with papers and highlighters cluttering the table. Finals, you think, noting the 10+ empty coffee cups littering their feet.

You wait patiently (though you’re exhausted) behind the man as he gives his order, and Roger the barista nods and hurries to make it. Was that even his name? You didn’t really know, he wasn’t in too often, you just spotted him by those bright blue eyes. Maybe it was Riley or Ringo or something.

The man in front of you is handed his drink, and when you turns around, your blood runs cold. You take a deep gasp and step backwards. You don’t even get a good look at him before his back is towards you and all you can do is stare at his disappearing silhouette. You’re shaking, and you don’t know why; you can’t at all recall his appearance besides pale skin and long, black hair, but still it’s like he flipped some kind of switch and adrenaline started pumping through every vein in your body.

“Ma’am?”

You turn at the voice back to the counter. It’s not the blue-eyed barista you’re met with: you see the same face, but with eyes pure black.

You stumble out of the coffee shop without getting the caffeine you need, because you can not stay in there a second longer. Maybe you don’t need the coffee; now you feel fully alert. You jump as strangers passes by as you make your way across the street and up to your desk, trembling so much you wonder if you’ll ever stop. Once you’re at your desk, though, you do feel a little better; you’re no longer shaking, but still, anyone that comes up to you scares the fuck out of you, you have many close calls with an entire fucking heart attack, you can swear it. A few people ask you throughout the day if you’re okay, if you need to go home, but you assure them you’re fine, and when you finally get off, you feel kind of good about yourself for sticking it through the day, but that feeling fades as the sun does.

It’s dark out when you hop out of your car and make your way up to your apartment, and it doesn’t help your anxiety that the lights have been flickering in the corridor of your floor for about a week now, and no one had bothered to fix it.

The lift opens and you step out into the passage with the lights having a seizure of their own, it seems. Dark, light, dark, light, you’re at least glad it’s consistent, but while on any other day this would have been an annoyance, today, it’s panic-inducing.

Your place is near the end of the corridor, quite far down, and while you want to run, something tells you your body can’t take having to increase your heart rate any further or you’ll drop dead in the middle of your sprint. And why should you run? You’re a little angry with yourself—it was just a weird dream, and it had you fucked up all day. Pathetic. Your irritation does little to drown out your fear, however. On and off the lights flick at rhythm, like they’re singing a song on a steady beat.

You’re a few steps in when the lights go out for one, two seconds too long, barely enough time for feat to build, but it does; you know you can’t trust yourself to discern reality from fiction, but you do. You start walking faster. You throw a look over your shoulder; in front of the elevator stands a tall silhouette, but breathing; an alive shadow. You gasp and spin around to face it. There’s nothing there. You turn back, walking faster and faster now, but still trying to refrain from running.

The lights flick off, flick on, there’s a shadow. Flick off, flick on, there’s a shadow. What can you do except run straight towards it? Your door is in that direction, you just need to get inside. Maybe it would have seemed insane to anyone on the outside—it felt insane to you—but you start running, full speed towards what you’re trying to escape. On and off the lights flick and the silhouette comes in and out of sight, unmoving, and deeply unsettling.

You don’t know how you get your door open so fast, but you do, not fumbling once with your keys despite your wrecked state. You slam the door closed behind you and lock it, firmly pressing your back against it as you begin to hyperventilate.

What the fuck.

Tears are streaming down your face and you swear your chest is caving in on itself. You grasp at the kitchen counter and heave yourself forwards, breaths coming in and out at lightning speed, yet you still don’t feel you’re getting enough oxygen, you don’t feel you’re getting any oxygen, for that matter. It feels like a hand is wrapped around your throat, asphyxiating you as you stumble around your living area.

A hand? And pulling?

You’re being led towards your bedroom by your neck, and though you want to say it’s the miracle of getting your feet to move again, no, there’s definitely something pulling, dragging you towards your room.

You claw at the doorway and dig your heels into the ground, but that barely deters whatever is acting upon you. You’re flung onto the bed, and hit the mattress with a force that feels way too familiar, though obviously this has never happened before; you’d never had a ghost drag you through your home, or maybe it was psychosis, but you’d never had a psychotic episode like this.

You prop yourself up onto your forearms and scan the room for a sign of anything. At this point, you’re hoping someone will pop out, to confirm you haven’t completely lost it. And you immediately regret that hope.

Out of seemingly thin air, a figure steps forward. You know it. Tall, every tall, and long black hair, pale skin, you saw him at the café, but that’s not where you know him from, you know him from something much more personal, something deeper; you barely know him in your conscious mind, but your subconscious recognises it all.

This is a dream! it strikes you, and you slightly calm down, knowing you’re going to wake up at any second now. Why aren’t you waking up? A man you’ve never seen before is still stalking towards you.

You scream and kick your feet as he reaches the foot of the bed, even though he hasn’t touched you yet. In a literal flash he grips your ankles and twists, prying your legs apart and pinning your feet on the bed. Still, you struggle against him. He removes his hands, and now in their place are glowing virescent ropes tying you down, your hands have been restrained too, each limb reaching towards a corner of the bed. You writhe, twisting and thrusting your hips, crying the whole time. Why aren’t you waking up? What the fuck is even happening?

But you know exactly what it is happening.

The dark-haired man snaps his fingers and you’re naked and exposed. Maintaining direct eye contact with you, calmly, despite your conniption, he slowly pushes two long fingers into his mouth and drags them out with a pop.

Wake up, wake up, wake up, you will yourself, wishing more than anything ever, and more than anyone ever could to just wake up!

He unbuckles his belt, still quiet (why hasn’t he said anything?) and staring you down. And suddenly, he pounces on you, diving to harshly suck on your neck, the spot that had been sore. You try to bring your hand down to push him away but are met with the unfriendly reminder you’re restrained. You cry out at the assault, his sucking and biting is near animalistic.

And someone, you call out a name, his name, “Loki!”

४

#sintember 2023 #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #yandere loki #yandere!loki #dark avengers #dark!avengers

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yandere-sins · 2 years

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Who’s in charge now?

A comeback of an oldie! I do recommend reading this part here first before diving into this new one, but please enjoy the smutty side-effect of being haunted!

Fandom: Original Work Pairings: Yandere!Ghost x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con, Cunnilingus, Lots of tongue but also touching and teeth mention, Biting and scratching mention, Fluids, Penetrative Sex, Orgasms, Overstimulation, Public indecency, Doing it in front of someone while that person is unaware), Manipulation, Gaslighting, Degradation, Possessiveness, Mention of Exorcism

Prompt: @sintember No one will believe you - There’s no one to help, no one to trust, do you even believe yourself?

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Forcing your legs to close, you were met with the invisible mass between them pushing back, resisting your attempts, and instead sending out his long tongue to drag between your thighs. The newly put-on underwear was instantly soaked in its drool, and it let out a husky laugh as you mewled under your breath, your whole body shaking against the table.

"Are you alright?" Eli asked, barely looking up from their phone. The only reason they were alarmed by what was going on out of their sight was that their cereal bowl was shaking almost as much as you. Gripping the table, you tried to control yourself before looking up at them, their gaze lazily falling from you to their phone again as they shrugged it off as a nervous tick you were emitting. It was way too early to be fully awake and alert to their surroundings, so Eli wasn't truly concerned about all the fluids leaking down your chair and dripping to the ground.

"They don't believe youuu~" the ghost lolling his tongue over your sex purred. By the missing reaction from Eli, you had no choice but to believe they really didn't see or hear the ghost like you did, much less feel its presence right in front of them. Clenching your fists, you took deep breaths, your sensitive flesh so receptive to every blow of air the ghost breathed and the torturous pleasure that had been haunting you all night long.

He hadn't been wrong when he said he could pleasure you better than anyone else, no matter how unwanted his attention was. He robbed you of a restful night of sleep, and despite passing out somewhere between orgasm seven and nine, you quickly woke up again as he plowed into you for the next round. It was a wonder you even made it for so long, but eventually, you just gave in, letting him fuck you around your room with his cock buried deep inside you. He hadn't let go of you since, fucking you against your door before you could finally slide off his cock and into the hallway, drenched in more fluids than you could produce on your own.

You ran to the shower the moment you were free, and luckily, he didn't follow you in. But eventually, you had to go back to get fresh clothes, and he was waiting there, very upset that you left him in the middle of shoving his dick in and out of you. He latched on to you as you got dressed, explaining half-heartedly how he had gathered so much strength through fucking, he'd not let you get away so easily again. You had no choice but to pretend he wasn't there as you met Eli in the hallway, who was still drowsy and half-asleep, you two deciding to have breakfast together before going to a shop and get some incense and anything that could help with your 'situation'.

In a way, it was your own mistake for not insisting on having breakfast in the city rather than your apartment.

The ghost kissed your sex almost reverently as he pulled you closer to the edge of the chair, burying his face between your legs. You could squeeze your thighs all you wanted, but it only seemed to excite him more, taking it as you participating while he traced the outline of your sex with his ghost tongue. Another shiver went through you, your body now incredibly sensitive and irritated after a night like that. Perhaps his horny ghost tendencies had rubbed off on you; otherwise, you couldn't explain your prompt reaction, your pussy clenching and seemingly anticipating his teasing. He didn't care that you had to tightly clench your jaw to not let out a mewl, grinning as he felt your thighs quiver in his grip.

"Look, we can go here. They even have stuff to exorcize demons with," Eli suggested, sliding you their phone and spooning some cereals into their mouth while you took it with a shaking hand. Leaning over the table, the ghosts had long taken over pleasing you with his tongue, creating long, intense strokes on your sex. Helpless, you buried one hand in his ghostly hair, trying to pry him from you but only causing him to breathe where his tongue didn't touch, making your toes curl.

"L-Looks good!" you stuttered, handing back the phone after a brief glance. The website did mention something about exorcism kits, and at this point, you would have bought every scam in the world just in case one of them worked. The ghost chuckled against your flesh as he heard your voice crack, and you had to admit that amongst the wetness and heat, it wouldn't be long until you came pitifully, and hopefully for the last time in a while.

Eli continued scrolling through their social media, humming every now and then while your brain turned into mush with all the pleasure you received, breathless sighs escaping you across from your roommate. There were no words for you to describe the frustration of having to endure this torture all by yourself while Eli cluelessly browsed on their phone. They didn't know what was going on and probably still didn't believe you despite there being a ghost tongue lodged all the way inside of you. Using his big hands, the ghost massaged your thighs, ever so often sending a stinging shock through you that made you jolt and clench around him. He must have left his marks on you, either as scratches or bites. Otherwise, you could not explain the burning pain that was only soothed by his tongue pleasing you in rapidly growing movements.

You were hunched over and panting on the table when Eli said, "Okay, gonna go ready now," standing up and trotting over to the kitchen to put their bowl into the sink. Finally, with their back towards you, nothing could stop your body from quivering pitifully, the orgasm hitting you as hard as the first one did. You bit your finger to keep the voices from escaping, but the ghost was merrily slurping on your juices leaking from down there.

With your toes curling and drool leaking from your own mouth, Eli walked off to their room, and a small, voiceless part of you wished they would have stayed and saved you from this torture at the ghost's hands. But instead, you had to bear with him smiling widely, dragging his barely existing teeth over your sex and causing even more mayhem to your sensitivity after what his tongue did. The pleasure just wouldn't stop, and you began to doubt there was anything you could do to ever stop it. Because what if there wasn't a solution that could fix this? Would you have to continue being a sex doll for this ghost if you couldn't find a working repellent? You were so out of it, bumping your forehead against the table top, as you tried to imagine living with this ghost for another day, your body growing rigid at the thought. And yet, already trained after that night, your pussy walls clenched, expecting more than you were given. Was it really this hopeless? Or were you just beyond help at this point?

Finally, you were released from his grip, the ghost creeping out from under the table and hovering behind you, his presence weighing hard on your body from behind even though you were still hunched over. "Try exorcizing this," he sneered. Now even he was joining in to your thoughts, mocking you as you questioned your own sanity. You felt the wetness of his tongue mixed with your own fluids drag along your neck and cheek, all the way to your ear as he licked you there too. "I wanna see you try while you'll sit on my cock with your friend in the room."

"Just… fuck off," you hissed at him, and his bellowing laugh roared through the living room, carefree as he was. It made you lose hope even more hearing him confirm his invincibility to anything you will try. How could you trust in what you were going to do when he kept tearing down your confidence that you could beat him?

"You know you can't get rid of me. Not even your friend believes you are in your right mind. So what are you going to do to stop me?"

Nothing. The answer was that aside from trying everything you could possibly buy to get rid of him, there was nothing you could do other than break the lease and disappear from the apartment. But even then, would that solve the problem? You felt like you were going crazy trying to come up with a solution to this invisible problem. The same problem that was now picking you up from your chair and carrying you over to the kitchen counter like a mere rag doll. Blinking a few times in confusion, you stared into the empty hallway between your room and Eli's, hearing them scuffle inside theirs as they were getting ready.

"I'll be so free while you think," your ghost problem hummed cheerfully, and you gasped as he ripped your underwear off you, positioning the tip of his appendage to your hole again. "Not again–!" you tried to complain, but he was inside before you could wiggle out of his grasp, rendering you speechless. He was using you, even though you had yet to learn what he was gaining from constantly assaulting you. Choking on your words, he wrapped his hand around your neck, forcing you to arch your back as he rammed himself deep inside you, forcing out a gurgle from your throat. "Mhm, nice grip," the ghost complimented you, the nasty grin on his lips audible in his voice.

"Keep it that way unless you want your roommate to find out. My, what would they think about their perverted roomie getting it on the kitchen counter?"

His teasing only caused you to cringe more, your body clenching around his cock instinctively, and he purred blissfully in response, picking up the pace that suited him. It was fucking unfair that you had to deal with one hell of a horny, arrogant ghost that thought himself to be invincible. But he just had to wait. You'd find a way to cut him from this world and especially you. At least… if you could survive until then without your mind breaking from the rough and intense pleasure he undoubtedly would continue to give you for as long as he could.

"And every time you try some shit on me," he chuckled as if he read your mind. "I'll remind you who's in charge of your pretty little cunt now."

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