AfroSayin

[untaemedqueen]

Finding My Pack Masterlist

Alpha!OT7 & Omega!Reader

Genre: Fated Mates, Omegaverse, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Series Warnings: Omega Abuse (Not By OT7), Fated Mates/Soulmates, Scent Sympathy, Sunshine!FMC, Knotting, Smut, MMMMMMMF, MMMF, MMF, MF, Breeding Kink, Cursing, Dom!OT7, Sub!Reader

This book can be found on Patreon. A chapter is released every Sunday!

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Keep reading

[untaemedqueen]

Take One (M)

Pornstar!Yoongi x Fan Fiction Writer!Reader

Genre: Strangers To Lovers!AU, Smut, Fluff

WordCount: 24k

Warnings: Masturbation, Fingering, Big Dick!Yoongi, Slight Dom!Yoongi, Degradation (Slut, Cum Slut), Spanking, Sex Against A Wall, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Phone Sex, Edging, Pussy Slapping, Daddy Kink, Hair Pulling, Cock Slapping, Cum Swallowing, Love Making, Marking, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Face Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive!Yoongi, Forced Orgasm, Doggy Style, Impreg Kink

A/N: Again the biggest shout outs to my crew @ppersonna​​, @ladyartemesia​​, @xjoonchildx​​ who are constantly rooting for this fic to come out. I love my ladies so much!!!!!!!

There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word. 

He has seen so many bodies in his career. So many different women and men that he cared very little for the human form. Now, written word where he could just simply envision a woman of his choosing doing what is described in twelve font Ariel Black ink. That is where he finds his pleasure.

He found himself after a long day on set, looking for mental relief. People make fun of his job, but it’s incredibly taxing on one’s spirit. He tried for years and years to be not only the best porn star in his field, but the most talked about. He succeeded after not too long, one utterly embarrassing title called ‘Little Cat, Bowl of Milk’ skyrocketed his success and had people coming back time and time again to his profile on all the major porn sites. He began to realize that success was eating at his bones. He so often found himself not being able to cum as he fucked his co-star half way to Sunday. 

It wasn’t about being the greatest anymore, or having the biggest cock in the industry. It was about actually being able to cum without the prop team having to strap a tube on the underside of his cock and pump out this incredibly realistic looking paste that actually looks like jizz. It was practically degrading. And yet, Yoongi only found himself orgasming through reading. 

It was a random happenstance as he was scrolling online. Just looking at a few different blogs on Tumblr before finding a link in their biography stating 'Masterlist’. Finding himself intrigued he clicked on the link, the girl with the pen name Nevermore had countless series of books. She was great at writing, truly understanding her character’s complexity and portraying it in such a way that had Yoongi constantly on the edge of his seat. But above all, the sex scenes she wrote were so erotic; so completely entrancing that he began to lose himself in her stories. He had never cum harder than before he read the words she so ardently wrote.

Jumping onto his couch, his feet find their place on the arm as his hand rests beneath his head. “I wonder what’s up with Kyla and Bjorn today.” He whispers to himself before sipping his beer. Every day of the week waits with bated breath to be Sunday. Nevermore publishes every Sunday at 8 o'clock and Yoongi never misses it. He will even stop a late filming just to read her new chapter. 

Stopping by her blog fills him with a sense of renewal. He first checks her updated page before anything else. She seemed to have an almost poetic soul within her, as if her fingers poured out earnest sentences with cryptic and riddled meaning. It’s her latest post that catches his attention, first and foremost, before he can even click on the book’s masterlist. He sips his beer as he peruses the post.

Coming Tuesday - Take One. 

Pornstar!Min Yoongi x Reader

Author’s Note: I usually research heavily for smut to make it seem the most realistic as possible. I looked into porn to get a sense of what pornstars go through day to day and came across Min Yoongi. Eajsidicjeisoc HE’S UNBELIEVABLE! So the next book will be a fan fiction based on him. And believe me when I say I’M A FAN.

Beer goes flying out of his mouth. Sitting up quickly, his eyes widened at the text. 

Keep reading

[mickules]

Have you heard what they say?

H O P E ' S P E A K I S H A U N T E D .

the rules [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

[mickules]

Rule #1 Don't swap the dormitory name plates.

----

Have you heard what they say?

If you swap the name plates in the western corridor of the first year dorms you've broken a rule. Not one of the ones you'd find in your e-handbook. One of Hope's Peak's unwritten rules, and when you break them you get punished.

You won't notice straight away, but most people say it starts with a song. The most beautiful sound, it might even remind you of birdsong, but it's quiet. Right on the edge of your hearing. It's only when you enter your own dorm that you realise how strange that is. After all, all the rooms are soundproof.

They say she'll be waiting for you. No two stories can agree exactly where she'll be, although most say she waits behind a door. The handle is jammed; That's the sign. If you give up there you'll be spared the ghastly sight of her.

Long dark hair tangles in her limbs, casting a long shadow over her face obscuring the glint of her eyes and the too bright pink on her lips. She's far too pale, too limp, almost pitiable. Her arm doesn't sit right the way it's cradled across her body. And the handle of a knife sticks out of her belly.

You'd better run then, lock the door and stay beneath your bed, or they say she'll pull that knife out and use it on you the way it was used on her.

She's always gone by the morning, but it's said she leaves a message behind for you. It's indecipherable, but most say it feels like an apology.

[rule#2]

[mickules]

H a v e y o u h e a r d w h a t t h e y s a y . . . [Continuation...]

[elpr3dicadorshh]

🔫🚩

[avanori]

Alastor "I don't enjoy touching" when he is near Lucifer be like

[ckret2]

every time i read this post this is what i see in my head

[pawcorpses]

fuck it *gives y/n a gun*

read @bamsara s solar lunacy and win an xbox

[bamsara]

Y/N: I’m going to help the Daycare Attendants overcome the Afton virus with the power of friendship and this gun I found

[bamsara]

Opening up a little about the virus...Moon stays uptop the playground gym, far away from the PJ clad human below.

Doodle comic for a little more serious talk scene I have planned for Chapter 9 of Solar Lunacy (or Chapter 10, depending on how long the length is). Y/N is going to get some answers and clues, as well as put themselfs in a dangerous situation, because when do they not?

[bamsara]

'Your soul isn't your own anymore'

Halloween outfits for the Daycare Attendant from this drabble I wrote.

[bamsara]

Doodle storyboard stuff for future scenes in Solar Lunacy, the later half is actaully something I posted a little about back a few months ago lmao

Eventually, Sun leaves the Daycare. Chaos will ensure, probably :)

Plus a non-story-canon shitpost

[bamsara]

Some Sun shenangians I doodled for a future scene I have planned in Solar Lunacy, next Chapter: 10

Get foam noodled, loser

[bamsara]

Low-Effort doots I made for future scenes in Solar Lunacy + a lil Gregory and Eclipse Shitpost at the end

Everyone antagoninzes each other, just a lil bit

[bamsara]

"Don't bleed on my carpet" I can see YN maybe getting a booboo and Sun and or Moon freaking out

Moon-Centric | Wordcount: 1,648 | AO3 Version

Contains some spoilers for ARC 3 (Post-Fire) of Solar Lunacy, so please consider this a crumb! Notes: Contains blood mention, obv, and character exibihiting some subtle signs of PTSD.

Nosebleeds sucked. Unpredicatable most of the time, and inconvienent. You don't even feel it happening until droplets of blood splatter on your phone screen as your looking down. So you sigh, stand up from the table and attempt to hold your nose back as you fumble your way to the bathroom.

The Daycare Attendant isn't here at the moment, downstairs helping Gramps with something, so it's a bit of a fummble to the bathroom without blood dripping everywhere by yourself.

The flow was heavy. You inwardly cringe as you hear a few droplets hit the floor, and holding your head back, you hold out a hand to feel against the wall to guide you, and scold yourself when you realize you just probably smeared blood on the wall as well.

You make it to the bathroom, don't even bother turning on the main lights, flicking on only the nightlight that you keep in the outlet under the mirror. Your friend doesn't like it when some rooms are dark, and others are brightly lit. Could cause rapid changes, or a possible Eclipse. You find the toliet paper and bunch it up easy enough with what illumination you have.

Winter was such a pain sometimes. You were prone to nosebleeds when the air was so dry like this. You should look into getting a humidifier or something.

A few scrunched up balls of toliet paper shoved up your nose later, the blood isn't showing any sign of stopping, and a pile of bloody tissue is collecting into a pile by the sink. You sigh, head light. That's gonna be annoying to clean up, as well as the rest of the stains. You also made the mistake of wiping your phone onto your shirt without thinking about it before. THAT was going to be one nasty stain to get rid of, if you can even salvage it.

On the sixth tissue ball, you hear the front door open. You'd call out if it wasn't for the sneeze you felt rising, and for the sake of now spewing blood and snot all over your bathroom mirror, you put your effort into holding it back.

The door shuts, clicks and locks. A few padded footsteps for some paces, then stop. There's a quiet pause as the sneeze subsides, and then the sudden sound of hurried movement through the house, walking quickly over your own path-

The door to the bathroom that was cracked open is swung completly outwards, an ridged animatronic grips the doorhandle with a tightens that almost cracks it.

Moon's smile is strained, eyes as wide as the times nightmares only bring forth, and shrunken pupils scan before they find you.

A heartbeat passes (and you probably look stupid, tissued-up and stuffy nosed) as the robot blinks, the tension in his form lessens, and gaze softens.

You talk stuffy and dry. "What? What's wrong?"

Pupils, no longer small, fall down to where blood drips off your chin and onto the bathroom mat. "Don't bleed on my carpet."

"YOUR carpet?" You scoff, and it comes out a bit choked. The last thing you wanted was blood traveling down your sinuses and down your throat. "Excuse you! My house! My Carpet!"

"Laundry mess." He talks low again, and it sounds like teasing. Whatever strain that was in his fave prior has melted away, and the robot leaves the door open as he steps forwards. A hand comes to you without permission, fingers gripping your jaw and positioning your head towards him for a better look.

Moon doesn't tut at you, but his expression spells the idea. "You're doing it wrong."

You've half a mind to sneeze on HIM just to get your space back, and to be annoying on purpose, but the hand on your jaw slides against your skin to the back of your neck, and you feel fingers wrap around there, a few running up into your hair. Your head is promptly pushed to face downwards, another tissue is brought to your nose as you feel the blood rush.

"Look down. Not up." Moon speaks. Whatever argument you have is muffled by tissue and trying to breathe now that you've been flipped a bit. He presses the tissue to your nostirils, blood soaking through to his fingertips. "Drain it. Breathe through your mouth."

"Yeah, okay, Doc." You talk, a bit breathy because yeah maybe he had a point there. It's a gross feeling, and it feels awkward, but the blood flow starts to lessen after a minute, and it's nice not having to keep trying from swallowing anything in the sinuses. "Did you have fun with Gramps?"

Moon makes a small sound of aknowledgment. He does not move his hands from your face or the back of your head.

You talk to fill the silence. "Whattya guys do, anyway?" Raising your hands, you try to replace his own. "I can do this part myself, by the way."

He does not let you, that is, until the tissue needs replacing and has no choice but to pull away the old one. "Magic tricks."

"Magic tricks?"

"He wanted to learn." A quick hand replaces the space of your own with a new tissue. You give up, letting your arms fall to your side. Moon is attentive when it comes to your face, and low-lidded as he wipes the blood stain on your upper lip. "Be still."

You stick out your tongue. He pushes it back in with his thumb. "I said, be still."

"Whatever." It's a bit demeaning, this act. It also feels nice to be cared for in such a gentle manner. Maybe it's his programming, but you know it's just what they like to do. Still, he's slow in movements, and you glance back to the mess you've made on the sink. "Does the blood not bother you anymore?"

Maybe not the best thing to say, and you realize that instantly after it leaves your mouth. Moon's movements pause, if only for a moment. "No."

"I can clean up the blood."

"It's okay."

"And the mess in the living room."

"It's fine."

"I can do this part too, you know, if you're still-"

A tighter grip around your face, Moon's smile thins into annoyance. "Stop. Moving."

Fine, sure. You raise your hands up into the air as a mockery of surrender as he runs a rag underneath the sink water and dabs it in places where blood traveled and you did not see. Your faces is scrubbed clean (ratherly harshly, and probably thanks to your commentary) along with your neck and collarbone. He doesn't bother with the stains on your shirt or shirt collar and you take that as inward confirmation that this shirt was done for.

So you stand in the process, eyes closed and thinking about what to make for dinner as the animatronic does his work. Finally after a good five minutes of silence, he lets you go. Opening your eyes, Moon steps back, looking you over once more. The blooded rag is tossed into the garbage bin instead of the laundry basket, and he turns from you to gather the tissue paper on the sink and dump those in the trash as well. "Shirt."

"Yeah, yeah I know, I know." You're pulling the shirt off before he even finished the sentence, running a thick part, unstained part under the water before exiting the bathroom. Might as well use it to clean up the rest if you can't salvage the clothing.

Luckily for you, the stains on the floor and wall come off with some hard scrubbing and some cleaner you keep under the kitchen sink. You've tossed the ruined shirt into the trash as Moon exits the bathroom, presummably finished cleaning in there, and make eye contact in the hallway.

He looks normal, almost default as red eyes and white pupils look over your rather disheviled, shirtless form. But your gaze glances down to his hands, twitchy, stuffed inside of the sweatpants you scored for them at a thrift store, and you know better.

You sniff with a clear sinus this time. "I'm all better now."

Moon's faceplate turns to an sharp angle.

"How do you feel?" You test the waters. The dark of the hallway feels warm, the glow of his unwavering gaze feels warmer. "Moon-?"

"Fine." He cuts you off. The animatronic walks up to you, a hand raised, it comes to your face, his own unchanging. A warm palm presses against your cheek, to your neck, against your pulse.

Double checking. It's all it is. Double checking.

"Fine." He repeats, and his palm drops. "Go sit."

You wish you could read his expression. Sometimes you can't. The animatronic turns his back and you do the same to the living room, finding your phone on the coffee table where you've left it. You're screen is still-mid spot where the mobile game left you, so you save your place.

A moment later, a shirt is thrown over your head, and crinckly package tossed in your lap. Lifting up the frabic, some basic crackers are in front of you. The weight on the sofa shifts as Moon plops down as you're pulling on the shirt, his own form criss-crossing.

It is better not to push. Not unless you wanted to trigger an unwanted, stressful change. "Wanna see this game I'm playing? You take care of digital little cats."

His head tilts again, this time more of curisoity than something else. You crawl into the lap waiting for you, pulling up the game and positioning the screen so he could watch. No words are said, but comfortability is had, and the two of you settle. Silence is broken only by the sound of the buttons clicking and game music playing.

Moon chuckles, though, when you capture a cat and that's half-black and white and name is after him.

[bamsara]

Hey, remember that time in SL when the Daycare Attendant broke Y/N's fall and ending up dislocating his shoulder in the process? Okay cool, so does he.

[bamsara]

also This doot that I forgot

[bamsara]

your friend Eclipse is just a bit quirky, a little eccentric, just a little fucked up maybe, but still your friend

[bamsara]

Some Moon intereactions I have drafted for the next chapter of Solar Lunacy

DJMM is here! And a bit of a gossiper. Also, charging stations are going to be added to the pizzaplex soon. For reasons. Yippee.