✧ ⋆｡˚ Vampire!cait Using You As A Bloodbag...

we need eve and alien!reader smut so baddd ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

CW. NSFW, yandere!reader, wlw, aggressive oral, overstimulation, choking.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft hum of ambient light filtering through the clouds outside the window. You sat perched on the bed like a queen, long limbs sprawled in lazy confidence, watching Eve pace the room with that signature scowl and arms crossed like she was trying to hold herself together.

She was frustrated. Again.

“You don’t listen to anyone,” Eve snapped, stopping mid-step, pink eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t understand boundaries. You—!”

You tilted your head slowly, like you always did when she got like this. Curious. Patient. Just a little amused.

“You angry?” you asked, voice smooth and low, like honey poured over a blade. “You want me... far?”

Eve froze, eyes narrowing, face flushing. “Don’t twist this! I’m serious!”

You rose to your feet in one fluid motion, the fabric of your loose shirt falling off one shoulder. Eve's breath caught. You closed the space between you slowly, hips swaying in that inhuman, seductive grace that made everything feel like a hunt.

“Eve...” you purred, circling her. “Why you always red when I close?”

“I’m not red!” she protested, but her voice cracked halfway through. “I’m just—!”

You slipped behind her, arms curling gently around her waist, pulling her back into your chest. Your lips brushed the shell of her ear as you whispered, “Liar.”

Eve shivered.

You moved one hand up to rest over her heart, the other trailing down her waist. Her breathing hitched.

“You say no,” you whispered, “but body says yes.”

“I—” Her voice was breathless now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want I stop?” you murmured, voice all velvet and smoke.

Silence.

Then a weak, “No.”

A smirk spread across your lips. You turned her around and kissed her—slow at first, tasting her hesitation, then deeper, hungrier, tongue pushing past her lips with a kind of wild, invasive passion. She whimpered into your mouth, knees nearly giving out as you held her steady. You pulled back just enough to whisper:

“You soft. Sweet. I don’t want stop touching you, Eve.”

Her hands fisted in your shirt.

“Then don’t,” she whispered, eyes glazed, lips parted.

“You mine?”

She didn’t answer at first.

Then she mumbled, “Yeah... I’m yours, alien freak.”

You grinned like a predator, kissed her cheek, and curled protectively around her.

Eve’s voice was long gone — shredded hours ago — leaving only those raw, cracked little sobs that couldn’t even form words anymore.

You were still perched on her face like some starved beast, hips grinding in frantic, wet circles, that inhuman snarl tearing from your throat every time she so much as twitched her swollen lips against your cunt.

"More," you growled, fangs bared, the muscles in your thighs trembling as you shoved her deeper, suffocating against the plush mound of your pussy. Your claws left crescent-shaped dents in the headboard as you forced yourself down harder — riding her face with violent, animalistic need. "Guh— deeper. Lick."

Eve’s hands clawed weakly at your thighs, her face a mess of slick and spit, red hair matted to her flushed, tear-streaked cheeks. She was trying to push, trying to get air — but you didn’t care. Your cunt clenched too tight around her tongue, throbbing as another gush spilled, messy and hot, all over her nose and chin.

Her eyes rolled, glazed and fluttering, lashes soaked. Her body jolted once under you, chest arching like she was going to pass out.

And fuck — that just made you grind down harder.

"Mine," you snarled, voice guttural now, pupils blown wide like some feral thing. Your hips slapped down with a brutal smack, smearing more of your slick against her face as you rode her mouth like a rutting animal. "I said— mine, Eve."

Your claws grabbed fistfuls of her hair, yanking her face tighter against your dripping core. Her nose bumped against your swollen clit just right, and your back arched with a sharp, broken cry — vision blurring at the edges as you squirted again, flooding her mouth.

Eve’s body convulsed. Hands went slack.

"Ohhh," you hissed, body trembling. "You're sleep now? Hahh— pretty Eve... so pathetic now…"

But you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Your hips were moving on their own now, chasing that raw, desperate friction as your swollen folds ground against her mouth, her chin, her slack tongue. Each roll made filthy, wet squelches fill the room, slick pouring down her throat while she lay helpless, body twitching under you.

"Your place is right here." Your voice cracked into a dark, shuddering moan, drool dripping from your open mouth as you fucked her face like a woman possessed. "You're mine. No running away now."

Your hips stuttered. Vision went white.

And with one last violent slam of your pussy against her face, you came again — harder than before, screaming as your slick gushed out in thick spurts, soaking her completely.

The bed creaked. Your claws tore holes in the sheets.

And as you finally slumped forward, panting over her limp form, you growled softly into her ear — voice hoarse but smug:

"...Told you. You stay red when I'm close."

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

american pope is like an ethel cain album name

at this point the avs might wanna try playing with their eyes closed. couldn't hurt right?​

one of my nsfw dean headcanons is that he would never take his ring off while fingering your pussy, so the cold touch of the silver ring against your clit would give even more pleasure

@artyandink @figthoughts @angelblqde @swe3twitch @briiverse @whisperingdaze @soldiersgirl

wait i'm actually nervous what

Not done yet but I post for May 9th— May thy 9th chip and shatter ❤️

Hi! I had this idea and thought you might be the perfect person to bring it to life: a Bucky Barnes x Reader fic where Reader finds an old journal of Bucky’s from his early post Winter Soldier recovery days. She reads it without meaning to at first, but what she finds inside is raw and heartbreaking. stuff he never talks about. Maybe they’ve been growing distant lately, and this gives her a look into just how much he’s been struggling. Would love if it ends with her wanting to comfort him but him not being ready to let her in yet. Quiet, emotional tension, please!

I READ YOUR DIARY EVERY LINE.

it starts with dust. not metaphorical, just actual dust.

you’re cleaning. or pretending to. rearranging the living room like that’s gonna fix the silence that’s been creeping in between you and bucky like fog under the door. you’ve been feeling it for weeks now. how he’s been moving quieter, speaking less, disappearing into rooms with the kind of stillness that makes it hard to follow. you don’t even remember the last time he touched you without pulling back like his hands burned after.

so, yeah. you’re cleaning. touching all his stuff like you’re trying to find a thread back to him. and then a book falls. black. beat up. spiral bound, barely hanging on. it looks like it’s been shoved there on purpose—stuffed behind old war books and a mug you’re pretty sure he stole from a hotel in zurich. you almost leave it. almost. but then you see the corner of a folded photo sticking out from between the pages. and your name, just a sliver of it, so you sit. floor cold against your legs, journal in your lap, breath a little too tight. you tell yourself you’re just gonna peek. just a glance.

but it’s not that simple. because the first thing you read feels like walking in on someone mid nightmare, mid prayer, mid– something holy and bleeding.

“it’s been 2,190 days since she stopped calling me asset. i still don’t feel like a person.”

the handwriting’s rough. not messy, just tired. you can feel it in the way the letters lean too hard in places, press too deep in others. like he needed to write it down or it would claw its way out some other way.

“i keep dreaming about the way the metal felt when it was first fused to me. like i was being welded shut.”

you shift. knees pulled up now. the room’s gone quiet in that specific way that makes you feel like the walls are listening.

“sometimes i think about running. not because i want to leave, but because i don’t want to rot here. it feels like i’m leaking poison into the lives of people who love me. like i’ll never stop being dangerous.”

you swallow. the last few months fall into place, a soft collapsing. all the nights he stood outside on the fire escape, just watching the sky. the mornings he’d say he was fine but his voice would crack on the i. the way he stopped playing music in the apartment. stopped sitting beside you on the couch. stopped falling asleep beside you, slowly replacing your shared bed with the cold of the guest room. your eyes burn but you keep reading.

“she touches me like i’m breakable. looks at me like i’m something to fix. i don’t know how to be held without feeling like an apology.”

you don’t even realize you’re crying until the page blurs. until the paper soaks a little beneath your fingertips. and you hate that he felt like this. that he couldn’t tell you. that you didn’t see it sooner. that he had to carve this into paper in the middle of the night instead of speaking it out loud to someone who would’ve dropped everything just to hold his face and remind him he's still here. still human. still loved.

there’s one more entry. dated a week ago.

“she asked if i wanted to go out tonight. i told her i was tired. the truth is, i didn’t want to be seen. some days i still feel like a weapon pretending to be a man. and i think if she ever looked too close, she'd see right through me.”

you close the journal. you sit with it in your lap for a long while. the kind of long that makes the afternoon light shift across the floor like slow, golden water. you don’t say anything when you hear the door open. keys hitting the bowl. footsteps slow.

he sees you before he says anything. standing in the doorway to the living room, hand still on the frame, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed in. his eyes drop to the journal in your hands. they stay there. his mouth twitches. not quite a flinch. not quite anything. "you read it," he says, voice low. not accusing. just… accepting. you nod. barely.

he closes his eyes. presses his lips together like he’s swallowing something sharp.

"i didn’t mean for you to see that."

“i know,” you say. voice softer than it’s ever been. “i didn’t mean to find it.”

the silence that follows isn’t empty. it’s full of everything you don’t say. everything he can’t. he walks past you. sits down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. you want to go to him. every cell in your body wants to close the space. to curl up beside him and press your forehead to his shoulder and tell him he’s not too broken to be loved. not too sharp to be touched. but you don’t. you sit down a few feet away. not touching. not even looking directly at him. just… near. a presence. a quiet offering.

“i didn’t know,” you whisper.

his voice cracks when he says, “i didn’t want you to.”

and there it is. the heart of it. he’s not ready. maybe he never will be. but he’s here and so are you.

the room is dim now. soft golden light painting the walls. somewhere down the hall, a floorboard creaks as the house settles around you. the air smells like dust and the last bit of coffee he made this morning.

you don’t speak again. you just sit. two people in the quiet. the kind of quiet that aches and comforts at the same time. maybe this is love, too. not the easy parts. just the staying.

a/n: luv this req. i literally just need to hug him omg... also sorry this is terribly written i was almost blackout drunk when writing it

mackinnon with a massive goal to make it 2-3! this is the fight we need.

uhh so incase you guys couldnt tell im inlove with smoker!josh, so enjoy this little small fic !!

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⋆˚࿔ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ₊˚✧

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: nicotine stains by second thoughts (3:45)

✰ pairing: smoker!josh washington x fem!reader

✰ cw: smoking kissing, smoke shotgunning, kinda horny but doesnt lead to smut (unless you guys want me to write that.....)

✰ word count: 0.3+

✰ summary: josh smokes regularly then realises that his girlfriend hasn't even remotely touched one, he teaches her how to do it.

✰ a/n: i tried so hard to method act with my joint but i lost my lighter SOOOOOO!!!

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༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ josh !!

You were in your boyfriend's room, sitting on his bed on your phone. Texting Emily, Jess and Ashley to tide yourself over from the boredom you found yourself in as you waited for Josh to come back to his room after helping his parents with something. He eventually came back into his room, you looked up at him - he had a cigarette in his lips, a hand covering it as he lit it with his lighter that he carried everywhere. You always found it enamouring when he smoked, except you yourself never touched one which was kind of ironic. Josh looked over at you, noticing how you looked at the cigarette in his mouth. He took a drag, taking the cigarette in-between his fingers - blowing out a stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. Walking over to you,

"What, baby?" "Nothing-- it's nothing.." "You never smoked one of these before?" "No.." "Prude." He let out a snort, "Am not-- I just.. don't find the point of it." "Do you want to try it?" "Oh-- no, Josh I-- I shouldn't." "One hit shouldn't hurt, angel.." "I.. I don't know how-" He'd grab ahold of your chin, tilting it up to look at him. "I'll help you baby, yeah?" "..Okay-- fine." "Just open that pretty mouth for me, okay?"

You sighed, questioning if he actually wanted to help you or if he had other intentions - you opened your mouth as he placed the cigarette in your mouth. "Breathe in." You breathed in slowly, coughing almost immediately - pushing his hand away. He laughed at that. "Damn-- you really weren't kidding.." "Shut up--" After you recovered from coughing, he grabbed the side of his face. "I wanna try something--" "What?" "Just lemme show you.." He placed the cigarette to his lips, taking a small drag before moving closer to you - inches from your open lips. Blowing the smoke into your mouth, you watched him with wide eyes. As the smoke disappeared above the two of you, you leaned foward - placing a kiss to his lips. He reciprocated almost immediately, grabbing your hips pulling you into his lap. Kissing you with more passion - more depth. Maybe you'll try smoking again if it ended up like this.

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its kind of a drabble pooks im SO SORRRYY hope you enjoyed nonetheless...

(Last) Sunday supper 🐇