#I do like the garter-bolts idea...

[bonefall]

lol I sent the forstar ask, I meant to type DOESTAR but autocorrect wasn't on my side apparently

DOESTAR!!

I'm still messing around with my ThunderClan family tree fix, but one thing I'm HARD decided on is that Speckletail is part of her family. Her name refers to the speckling on a fawn.

Doestar is now the daughter of Deerdapple and Thrushtalon, her siblings are Deerpaw and Stagleap. Stagleap and Harepounce have one child so far, Speckletail, but I'm still looking to shuffle.

(One-eye is not her sister anymore. One-eye is a lot older than Speckletail, almost 20 when Speckle's like 14. Meemaw is an ANCIENT cat.)

I like Doestar's description of "creamy ruff" so much that I'm making it her family's thing. It's a patchy, irregular mane of spikes like that of a wet red deer.

BUT ANYWAY. BB!Doestar's not a sweetie. She continued the Crusades after Oakstar lost his last life to them, in his honor. Doestar ruled from the mid-Crusade Era to the early Campaign Era, leaving Pinestar in charge when she lost her final life to starvation.

Pinestar rules for a long, long time. He really doesn't like warfare and tries to avoid it when possible, but still taking care to not violate the Right of Challenge and prevent his cats from fighting. He really likes creative stunts like the Adderfang/Mudfur battle, though that particular idea backfired.

And that's Doestar! A crusader who appointed a much more peaceful leader after her.

[gabessquishytum]

Oh OG Warprize Hob Anon wherefore art thou..... I just thought it was time to show thanks and appreciation for one of the best AUs (imo) to come out of the Dreamling ship. Not a week goes by where I don't think about their writing, and spin headcanons and scenarios of my own in my head. One of the most underrated aspects of their writing I think is Dream's ruthlessness and cruelty in that AU, it's so rare to see Dream just be a toppy asshole all the way through, fellow fans seem to prefer to see him as an emotional bottom twink 😭. One of the rare AUs where Hob is allowed to be the sensitive wanton bottom all throughout 🤤🤤 Ohh OG Warprize Hob Anon, I miss your writing so much, I hope to see your writing grace this dashboard once more, especially with more dark Dream moments. For my fellow fans, I thought I'd do a small thing and compile all their asks here. I'm so sorry if this is sloppy, but I just copy-pasted these here.

Warprize Hob AU

Anonymous asked:

I don’t know where this came from?? Dubcon/noncon cw, or it’s kinky roleplay if you prefer that. But...

Hob fought bravely, a solider in the war of greater men. He even crossed blades with terror in all black, the Nightmare King himself once. They said it was better for a solider like him to die with honor than to be taken alive. But when the tide turned and Hob’s own sworn sovereign fell, all he wanted was to live. He laid down his blade, expecting to be taken into chains. But not chains like these.

He kneels, blindfolded, on the bed, naked other than pure gold bondage, thin chains that truss him everywhere. Gold binds his hands at his back. Gold cuffs secure his ankles, connected by a flimsy thread only put there so it could be snapped apart. Gold laces around his tits, catching in his chest hair. Gold threads between new ruby piercings in his nipples—still so sensitive that even the touch of silk sends bolts of pure heat through his body. Every time he twitches, he sees stars. Gold loops like garters around his thighs, connected to the glimmering chain around his hips. And gold ribbon cages his achingly hard cock and full balls.

Hob is so, so hard. He has been since they fed him sweet candied fruits laced with a magic that heated his blood until he was begging those faceless servants to please, please let him come. They didn’t. Instead, he was bathed and perfumed with jasmine oil brushed through his hair (everywhere). He was opened with gentle touches and generous oil, a marble plug nestled inside him, blessedly cool against his burning skin. He was left on the bed with a final chain connecting his collar to the bedframe.

His prick so hard in its confines, and the plug is not enough. He still feels terribly empty. Against his own will, he finds himself rocking back and forth, rubbing his thighs together, desperate for anything that might help him get pleasure where he needs it most.

Until with no warning, a hand touches his head. He stills. He thought he was alone. Strong, thin fingers brush down his face, linger on his lips. A gentle thumb pushes inside his mouth. Hob moans, body thrumming like a harp just to be touched so simply.

“Peace, my prize,” a deep voice, peaceful as slumber, murmurs. The blindfold is pulled down and Hob blinks blearily into the face of the Nightmare King himself. He smiles, confident and regal, and slim fingers caress his side, down to his ass, and push against the plug until it finally presses where Hob needs it. "I will give you what you crave.”

Gabe:

Mmmm yes!!!! I love this.

Hob as Dream’s chosen prize after his victory in battle? Oh yes, excellent. I particularly adore the idea of Hob being unknowingly fed some kind of aphrodisiac to make him needy - Dream wants him to be willing, so he will simply make sure that he has no choice but to be.

Also, the preparation... Hob would usually be utterly humiliated by such an act. It's so impersonal and degrading. But all he can think about is how much he wants to cum, so he spends the whole time whining and begging for more. By the time Dream gets to him, Hob is spreading his legs like a well trained whore who's never known anything different. He's nearly forgotten the battle and his instincts as a warrior, he just wants to be fucked. Anyone could come into the room and have him and Hob would just be grateful.

But he isn't for just anyone, oh no. He's the king’s prize, his spoils of war. He suckles desperately on Dream’s thumb, sticks his arse out temptingly and generally tries to make himself as tempting as possible. He aches, and his brain is fuzzy, the king is absolutely the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen right now.

Not to mention his cock is perfect - the most perfect Hob has ever had inside him. It's as though his body has been molded perfectly for the king’s cock. He's not sure if he's ever cum so many times in his life.

When he comes back to himself several hours later, sweating and sticky and aching... he knows that he should be angry and hurt. He should get up from the beautiful bed and find some way to escape. But. He's tired, and hungry. The bed is comfortable, and the king is staring at him with sparkling black eyes.

He rolls over. Cum trickles gently down his thighs. The king holds out his hand, one of those candied fruits held between his long pale fingers.

Hob opens his mouth.

Anonymous asked:

Hiii I’m the originally war prize hob anon, lured back because I was blown away by how you and everyone else responded to the idea! Amazing work, go team.

Here’s more. (It’s so long. I’m sorry)

At first, Hob was confined to the bed chamber, a decoration, a pretty thing—and so rarely has Hob ever considered himself pretty. Pretty was for swallow-boned young men and women with smooth thighs. Pretty was not him, full bodied and furred. He has always pleased his lovers, they have found him handsome. But most have expected him to take charge and take care of them, not to—to—

Submit with spread legs and open mouth. To tempt. To eat sweet aphrodisiacs from those long, pale fingers until he’s begging to feel them for inside him. Sweet humiliation.

The king wants this. They pass long nights pounding Hob’s pride to shreds. He learns to beg under the king’s cock, his cruel mouth, and the touch of those inhuman eyes. Even sober, he only has to think of the king and his body floods with hot want. But still. Hob doesn’t understand.

“Why me?” He dared ask the first week, the king with a hand fisted in his hair, thrusting into him so deep and slow, Hob could feel it in his throat.

The king paused. A cool hand trailed down Hob’s back. Gathered the chains that pooled at his back, the ones he hadn’t yet snapped in his fervor. “I am interested.”

Hob meant to press him, even at the risk of his own peril, but the king slammed back into him and every thought vanished.

And then Hob is brought out of the bed and taken to kneel at the throne during the days too, chained to the king’s hand. At first, Hob assumes he is meant to be a symbol of the king’s power. Or a toy to warm the king’s cock when the duties of court grow dull. (Hob is both.)

But then comes a night when the king ponders battle plans for his next great war. And he turns to Hob.

“My general suggested we surge ahead and meet the enemy at their own gate. You rolled your eyes.” The king looks at Hob as if he is peeling the layers of muscle and bone away, finding the heart of him. And Hob realizes that all day, the king had noticed him listening. Not always—sometimes the king prefers to see him squirm, prefers to press the heavy gold plug into his hole and watch Hob strain for hours to keep it in, only to fail. During those hours, Hob had not heard a thing.

But when the king had allowed Hob to rest his head against his solid thigh, Hob had listened. And he had been seen doing it.

“Your enemy will expect a frontal attack. A show of strength. For you are a strong king. Respectfully, that’s a brave way to kill many of your own men.”

“Hmm.” The king says nothing else. He beckons until Hob kneels again at his side, the bowl of candied fruits, as always, sitting on the table. The king plucks one up and offers it to Hob.

“My lord,” Hob breathes. “Why do you care what I think?”

Hands brush through his hair. “Eat,” the king murmurs.

This king wants something. He waits for something. Hob cannot work out what. Yet.

He eats.

Gabe:

Assfggjkl og warprize anon!!!!!!

I am so taken with Hob’s thoughtfulness, his curiosity. His fearlessness. And I think that Dream is rapidly becoming besotted with these things too.

Hob isn't scared of him. No matter how ruthless and harsh he is, no matter which way Dream forces Hob to bend, he always springs back up with those curious eyes, wanting to know what's next. Dream suspects that he doesn't need the aphrodisiacs at all - that Hob would be willing to spread himself out in any arrangement of Dream’s choosing. But Dream is afraid of rejection, and Hob enjoys the lustful oblivion just a little bit too much to ask for a change.

Hob is clever and capable and good with his hands. When Dream comes to him wounded from some accident or skirmish, Hob knows exactly how to bind the flesh carefully but firmly. He rests his head in Dream’s lap after, like a beloved pet hound. His breathing is so soothing, Dream even manages to fall asleep. He wakes up and Hob is already between his legs, ready and waiting to be choked on the king’s cock as usual.

Dream fucks him instead, as ferocious as ever but this time with a purpose. Hob is his prize and the world ought to know about it. From now on, he'll have Hob smelling of his cum, always. He'll have him littered with bite marks and bruises. He'll keep Hob close, make sure the end of his gold leash is always within reach. He'll bring Hob to the battlefield, if he must.

A creature as magnificent as Hob must be treated as he deserves. And Dream alone can give him what he needs.

Anonymous asked:

War prize hob anon, here!!! I am loving the responses to this idea! So many amazing brilliant takes, love to see it.

The talk of whether Hob would escape or stay and be spoiled inspired me (glorious takes on both sides) so I drabbled on the subject…

It takes time. Trust. And a letter opener left unattended.

That night, Hob slides quietly as he can out of the silk sheets. He sits astride the sleeping king, his face turned toward the moon, his neck a deceptive swan’s curve. And Hob raises the blade to it.

One slice. And he is free.

It does not matter, he tells himself, that he has never been fucked so well. That the king is kind to him, relatively. He could take Hob with violence and pain or share him. Instead he feeds Hob fruits to heat his blood so that every time he plunders his body, with fingers, tongue and cock, Hob welcomes him.

Even the humiliations and hurts of his new service are given a sweet edge. The way he was spanked for misbehaving, hard and brutal, until his skin was red and tender. Followed by a hot tongue in his ass. The way he was made to kneel for hours and hold the king’s cock in his mouth. Followed by servants massaging the aches from his body and tending to his bad knee. (Yet another reason Hob is a poor choice for a prize.) In the king’s service, Hob might hurt. But he rewards him with such care…lavishes attention on him until Hob cannot come any more.

No. Hob has to do this. He must escape. He has his pride. This is just pleasure. Nothing more.

“Well?” The king’s voice interrupts his turmoil. Oh gods. He is awake. He surges up, knocking the blade from his grip. A hand clamps on his thigh, another on his wrist and he is rolled on his back, away from the blade. The chain between his wrists, once wide to allow him movement, slithers shorter until the cuffs kiss, and the collar tightens just enough to threaten his breathing. For all his battle prowess, struggling it gets him nowhere but squirming and pinned. The nightmare king settles over Hob like a dragon on top of its hoard. He stares unblinkingly down at him.

“You could not do it,” comes that deep whisper. Hob stills. “You are a well-trained solider yet for nearly five minutes you sat with a blade at my neck and did not make your move. Why?”

Hob swallows. A hot open mouthed kiss blooms just under his jaw, followed by the press of teeth. Even without the candied fruit his body sings for this man. What is happening to him?

“My pet. My prize. You must already face great consequences for this disobedience,” the king says. “I may not let you come for weeks. Answer me or it will be months.”

“I had to try. I had to—I don’t understand.” It isn’t the first time he has asked, pled, begged to know. “I’m at my wits end. Please. Why me?”

Fingers slip between them to tease at his hole and Hob resists the powerful, heady urge to submit and grind against him. For as long as he can before his resolve crumbles into lust. It will not be long. It never is.

The king gives the same maddening answer he always gives. The only one, whispered against his lips. “I am interested.”

Gabe:

Hnnnnng.

Og warprize hob anon…… i hope you know that you’ve created a beautiful monster and we’re all horny about it. i hope you also know that your words are beautiful and your prose is delightful. it’s a pleasure to read.

Oh but the turmoil Hob goes through. There’s nothing that the king can do to soothe the way his mind is twisting and turning, bouncing between loyalty to himself and some mad, misplaced loyalty to this nightmare of man. What does Hob owe Dream, really? His life? What kind of life is this?

He could set himself free. He thinks he’s almost worked it out. He could take away the one think the king seems to want. He could make himself… dull. Boring, predictable. Uninteresting.

But.

He thinks about long, thin fingers running down his spine and soothing the perpetual ache at the small of his back. Warm salve on his knee, applied at the king’s own orders. His body rigid and sweating in the night from some bad dream, suddenly embraced by cool arms. A kiss on his brow in the early morning. He’s been so greedy for those things, has coveted them and gloried in them. How can he live without them now?

Worse: what would the nightmare king do with a broken toy? Hob doesn’t want to find out.

He bounces in Dream’s lap with renewed fervor when he’s finally allowed the privilege of taking the king’s cock again. But there’s a heat behind his eyes, a kind of determination that he’d thought long dead and gone. He’ll find some way to win this game, this strange warped little battle. His own feelings be damned, Hob will not be broken. Even a king must have some chink in his armor, somewhere.

Dream raises a delicate eyebrow and almost, almost smiles. Pulls his prize closer by his golden leash.

“Interesting.”

Anonymous asked:

Hiiii warprize anon here! Glad to see people are still warprizing hob, I think it’s good for him. Truly, anons, you are doing glorious work with that AU.

I wanted to write dark obsessive dream next in all his dubcon glory next but no one cooperated? Have some less porny character introspection instead ig…

It’s amazing how little it takes for a grown man to become used to being a pet. As weeks stretch into months, Hob revels, just a little. In the lustful linger of eyes on his body. In the quirk of that cruel mouth when Hob pleases the king. The eager stirring of his cock even before he eats aphrodisiacs. Even his punishments—even the hot lash of the whip—begins to feel like sacrilegious worship. Gasping for breath, holding his thighs spread as the king buries himself in his body certainly is. In the blackest and most honest hours of the night, Hob knows the truth. He is starting to like it.

That’s the danger of the king’s service.

Hour by orgasmic hour, the king is twisting himself into Hob’s mind and body like a key carving out its own lock. He demands Hob’s submission, his pleasure and his desire for his own. But how many people had the king had in such a way? How many prizes have knelt, and learned to live at his pleasure? And where are they now? Abandoned surely, replaced. Hob is the chalice the king sips from now but he is one of dozens, maybe even hundreds. The king might have taken a prize from every battle won.

Hob is…not special.

He kneels on his cushion, waiting for the king who has stepped from the throne room, and reminds himself.

Footsteps approach and stop just behind him. Always, when the king is away, a guard is assigned to keep a close eye for Hob’s protection, though none are allowed to take his chains in their grip. Not unless Hob runs. Daring, the guard plucks at the chain between his nipples until it swings against Hob’s chest. He holds his breath.

“How’s it going?” A voice drawls. “Knees a little tired?”

Hob glances at the door for the absent king before raising his head. The guard above him smirks like he knows a joke and Hob is the punchline.

“Yes, rather,” Hob replies. “Even with the cushion.”

“His majesty seems to like that,” he muses.

Corinthian. That is his name. He’d heard the king give him orders with iron in his voice. The way one talked to a guard dog who wasn’t trusted. A creature who couldn’t be taught to fear the whip.

“You’d know better than me.” Hob meets his eye as best he can through the man’s dark glasses. He is very handsome, golden and strong. Perhaps this is the answer. Perhaps prizes who lose their luster are given other ways to serve.

Corinthian tilts his head. Hob feels his eyes trace down the marks the king left. Lurid love bites at his throat and faint fingertip bruises on his hips. “I really don’t. Suppose I’m not his type.”

“Surely you’ve seen the others then.” Hob replies. He keeps his hands folded where they’re bound at the small of his back.

“Other … prizes?” Corinthian’s grin only grows. “Sweetheart, no. You’re the first.”

Hon stares but senses no lie. “Can’t be.“

“Picking a prize always been his right but he’s never felt the need to use it until now. Until you.” The man leans closer, dangerously into his space. Hob feels him breathing, he’s so close. “I’ve heard the sounds he pulls from you at night. He must have years of pent up energy.”

Hob’s throat is dry. Something fragile, winged and stupid flutters in his chest. But before he has to think of a reply, Corinthian snaps back to a respectful distance an instant before the doors swing open, and the king sweeps in. He climbs the stairs, slinks back to claim his throne. Hob is still reeling when his cool hand finds his chin and tilts his head up.

“You did not move,” the king says. It is not a question but an expectation.

Hob shakes his head. For a long moment his eyes glitter down on him, simply watching. Then fingers card through his hair and he is guided to rest his head against his king’s knee.

Gabe:

Lying face down on the floor after reading this tbh. Like. What can I say? What can I add?

Knowing that he's the only one is a further kind of beautiful torture for Hob, because once again he's asking himself over and over again: why? Why him, above anyone else? There's a part of him in agony over his imprisonment, the curtailing of his freedoms, the fact that his mind and body are no longer his own. Then there's the part of him who wants to know why, so he can be good. He needs to know how he can keep the favour that he has miraculously obtained.

And Dream? He never gives answers. If Hob even dared to ask more than a small, sobbed "why me?" in the midst of some blissful torture, Dream wouldn't bother to answer. Hob thinks that the king likes him kept ignorant and confused. It's another way to keep him in line. He's always dancing on a knife's edge, wondering whether the king will eventually toss him aside - never knowing if he's truly safe.

So he'd better be as good as he can. Never give Dream a reason to throw him away. But he will slip up eventually - its only a matter of time...

Anonymous asked:

As requested, here’s some warprize!hob being punished by dark!dream for bad behavior. Also… thanks panickingstudent2’s last ask for some very specific inspo!

The king chains him up by his wrists. No gold cuffs with velvet interiors here. Not for this. This is punishment, work fit for dungeons, cold and deep as his king’s displeasure. Hob is already delirious from too much candied fruit. The cage has been cruelly clenched around his hot, aching cock for days now but he needs to be fucked, he needs it, he needs it.

“Mercy,” he begs but it won’t do him any good. He’s been begging for days, his cock and balls hot and aching.

Fury is divine on the nightmare king’s face. Other kings would simply kill him. Leave his body for the ravens. But Hob’s king will not let him go.

“I would have you obey me,” the king says. Fingers brush against his hole and don’t even push in where Hob yearns for them despite himself. He cants his hips back weakly, but the fingers go away. “But if I must bring you low again and again, I will. And I will enjoy it every time.”

He steps back. And the whip snaps through the air and white-hot fire flashes across Hob’s back.

Wet agony blooms across his shoulders and bloodred welts.

“You know why I must do this,” the king says. “You know why it is my pleasure to do this.”

The whip lashes again and again, fire licking across his skin. It doesn’t stop when Hob screams. Or when he sobs. When it’s done, his entire back glows like an ember. The king faces him, eyes black holes in his pale, sharp face. He places a cool hand on Hob’s back and he presses into the soothing touch, whining like a newborn babe.

“Please, I’m sorry, please, pleasepleaseplase,” he breathes. The king twists him around until the cuffs pull tight. He drags the plug from his hole, and finally buries himself to the hilt in his ass. Hob wails. Hands tangle in his chest hair and pull him flush against his king, as he plunges in and out at a ruinous pace. Being finally filled is sweeter relief than when the whip stopped.

“Say you are mine,” the king says. Once he was quiet, and constrained whenever he touched Hob and this is why—the need in his voice is barely bridled. Hob is not the only desperate one. “Say it.” The king bites, sudden and sharp at Hob’s earlobe.

“I’m yours—Morpheus!” His head snaps back as his body thunders through a cruel, dry orgasm. He doesn’t hear the king’s soft gasp against his ear, or register the name he’s cried. He’s in pain, from his cock to his shoulders—yet Hob floats. Perhaps he could fly.

Love, Warprize Anon

Gabe:

Hnnnggg. I am. Deeply obsessed with this. I love it when you drop these beautiful snippets for us!!! Hob calling the king by his name in the middle of a punishment/orgasm? Talk about a mind-fuck. Poor thing, he's truly terrified.

But it isn't just fear, is it? It would be so much simpler if he could say that he's scared and be done with it. So much easier to handle that emotion. What he feels is more that fear. He's grown attached to the king, longs for him when they're apart and fears him when they're together. When he tries to imagine a life away from his capture, he can't even manage it anymore. It's impossible to see beyond the king, who looms so large in Hob’s thoughts all the time. He's obsessed, addicted, terrified, longing to be taken and horrified by the idea all the same.

All he knows is that his king has power over him that he will probably never comprehend. Perhaps its time to surrender and acknowledge that he's lost. He no longer belongs to himself. He belongs to Morpheus.

-Love Yan Anon <3

Aww, hey Yan Anon!!! It's nice to hear from you. And thank you for highlighting OG Warprize Anon and their incredible work (you're a trooper for scrolling through and copy/pasting everything, seriously). Warprize au has definitely been a big hit, as it rightly should be, and it's great to look back on how it all started. Hopefully OG Warprize Anon is out there doing great and knowing that they inspired many, many people.

Hopefully we'll see more content for the Dark Dream enjoyers out there. I certainly lean towards a mean toppy Dream myself, although I'm not immune to Obliterating That Twink either. There's room for everyone in the fandom - and don't forget to leave comments for your favourite authors as Yan Anon has here. It's a great way to encourage your faves to write more of the stuff that you love!

[angelasscribbles]

Birthday Spanking: A Bad Romance One-Shot

Series: Bad Romance Continues

Original Series: Bad Romance

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairings for series: Riley x Liam x Max, Riley x Drake, Riley x Rashad

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Max

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this chapter: BDSM D/s dynamic, bondage, erotic spanking. Language.

Word Count: 2,581 

A/N: Back in September 2022 @harleybeaumont made a request for "subby secretary Max". It only took me six months to write it. She also gets credit for the pic below as she sent it to me for inspiration.

A/N2: Here's a link just in case anyone is interested in learning more about erotic spanking and why it's pleasurable to some people.

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley walked the secretary of finance to the door of her office, “Thank you, Lord Herron,” she ushered him out as he nodded and tried to continue the conversation.

She pushed the door closed and leaned on it, breathing out a sigh of relief. Lord Archibald Herron was a lot. Like, really a lot. He was at least ninety years old, and would not retire. He talked a lot, had outdated ideas, and took forever to tell a story.

She was exhausted from the encounter and stressed the fuck out. She glanced up at the ornate Lewisburg wall clock on her wall. She had time to kill before her next appointment.

She knew exactly how to relieve her stress.

She pulled the door open to peer into the outer office. Her eyes landed on Max, who was rifling through a file cabinet for something.

“Max!” She called out, “Come in here, now! I have something to dictate to you!”

Max looked up from his filing, “Oh, um, yes, okay, coming!” He swiftly grabbed a steno pad and pencil from his desk as he walked past it.

“Hold all my calls,” Riley told the receptionist as she stood back and let Max through then she pushed the door shut and turned the lock. It was Max’s birthday and she had something special planned.

Max, completely unsuspecting, took a seat in the chair in front of the desk and flipped the steno pad open, “Okay, what are you dictating?”

Riley sauntered across the room and pulled herself up onto the edge of the desk, crossing her legs as she did so. One hand moved up her thigh, sliding her skirt up, revealing thigh-high stockings, “To whom it may concern, the queen needs to be…handled.”

Max glanced up at her, then back down at the steno pad clutched in his hand. He blinked then his head jerked back up as he realized what she was saying.

When his eyes found her again, she was sitting on edge of her desk, dangling a pair of handcuffs from her fingertips.

His eyes dipped down to trace up her legs, taking in the top of the stocking and the attached garter belt before making their way up her curves to lock on her face. His mouth went dry, “How may I be of service, Your Majesty?”

“You can get over here and let me cuff you. Now.”

The sharpness of her command sent a frisson of excitement through him as he bolted out of the chair, steno pad and pencil falling forgotten to the ground as he hurried to do her bidding.

“Turn around.” She ordered.

He complied without a sound, spinning to place his back to her and bringing his wrists together. He felt the cold metal encircle both wrists and heard them click as they snapped into place.

She tugged on each one making sure they were snug but not too tight. “Spin.”

When he turned back to face her, she was wearing a seductive smile and twirling a very familiar collar in her hand. It was black studded leather with an O ring in the front and a locking buckle in the back. He vividly remembered the day she had placed it around his neck for the first time. The day she had collared him had been the happiest day of his life.

A collaring ceremony is just as meaningful as a wedding ceremony in many circles. It meant he belonged to her, but more than that, it meant that she made a commitment to him. The collar was as symbolic as a wedding band and having her place it around his neck in front of witnesses had brought him a sense of belonging and security.

The fact that she was dangling it in front of him as he stood in her office in the middle of the day with his hands cuffed behind his back told him that she was ready to play. A shiver ran through his body as he let his eyes dip down to her legs and trek slowly back upward again.

“Kneel,” she commanded.

He made and held direct eye contact as he lowered himself to his knees in front of her, “Yes, my queen.”

A shudder of pleasure ran through her at the way he made the honorific sound so sexual, “Good boy,” she crooned as she placed the collar around his neck.

He bowed his head so she could buckle it, “You’re every wish is my fervent command, Your Majesty. I live to please you.”

“Glad to hear it,” she told him as she slid the hem of her skirt higher, revealing her lack of panties, “Your tongue between my legs would please me very much right now.”

He crawled forward on his knees and, unable to use his hands which were cuffed behind him, nudged her legs further apart using his head and lapped a soft, warm line up her center.

Her fingers twisted in his hair as she scooted closer to the edge of the desk and wrapped her legs around his neck, “God, yes….” The day’s tension melted right out of her body.

Max on his knees in front of her never disappointed.

His tongue was warm and soft as it twirled and flicked at her center, trailing sparks in its wake as it worked. Up and down, side to side, in and out, round and round, not a single spot was neglected.

Heat suffused her body as tension coiled and tightened inside her. She tried to push his head back to draw it out, but he surged forward forcing her over the edge. Her body arched off the desk and into his mouth as her repressed screams filtered out as moans and gasps. “Fuck, yes, Max!” Her fingers tightened in his hair as she pulled him closer, losing herself in the crashing waves of ecstasy as he licked her through the orgasm.

When she was done, she gently pushed him away as she scooted back on the desk, tugging her skirt back into place. “Good boy,” she told him as she slid off the desk, “Now stand up, I have something for you.”

She helped him to his feet since he couldn’t use his hands to help himself. She laid gentle kisses along his back as she uncuffed him.

“What is it?” he rubbed his wrists, an anticipatory thrill slipping through him.

“Did you think I had forgotten it’s your birthday?” She smirked at him as she rummaged around in the oversized tote she had brought to the office that morning.

“N-no…” he replied carefully, “We have plans for dinner tonight and we’re going to the peacock show tomorrow….”

“Oh, but you haven’t had your birthday spanking yet, have you?”

Max closed his eyes and groaned as a shiver of eager excitement ran through him, “No my queen, I have not.”

“Well, we have to correct that,” she told him as her eyes ran up and down his body with a predatory glint, “so drop those pants, turn around, put your hands on the desk, and bend over.”

He locked eyes with her as he slowly unbuckled his pants, “Yes, Your Majesty,” he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his pants and underwear, pushing them down to tangle around his ankles, then he turned, leaned over and placed both hands on the top of the highly polished mahogany executive desk.

Riley laid several implements on the desk in front of him. A slapper paddle with cut-out hearts carved into the leather, a flogger with soft metallic silver fronds, a crop with a split tipped top and textured handle, a black leather whip, and a small satin and leather spanking paddle.

Max felt his cock stiffen as his eyes swept across their toys. Riley’s fingers ghosted across his back as she leaned down, put her mouth to his ear, and whispered, “Your choice, my sweet, perfect, subby boy toy.”

“Fuck!” Max sucked in an audible gasp as he felt his dick throb. Precum oozed out of the tip as his heart rate spiked.

“Well? Which one?”

His eyes moved from one to the next. Each implement had its draw. The slapper paddle would make a loud, satisfying noise, but didn’t do much in the way of delivering the sharp sting he craved. The flogger would sting nicely and leave pretty red welts to remind him of the encounter, but it was quiet. The crop was perhaps the best of both worlds, providing a satisfying whoosh as it moved through the air, a resounding thwack when it made contact with his ass and the welts would last for days. The whip was too much for the middle of the afternoon. He wanted to be able to walk normally when he left her office. The spanking paddle was entirely too quiet and entirely too gentle.

“The crop,” he decided.

“Are you sure?” She picked up the spanking paddle and ran the satin side across his rear.

He swallowed thickly, “I’m sure.”

“Hm,” she replaced the paddle and picked up the flogger, trailing the fronds lightly down his back.

A shiver ran through him as goosebumps erupted from head to toe.

“What do we say?” she prompted.

“Please,” he responded immediately.

“Please, what?”

“Please spank me, my queen.”

Riley replaced the flogger on the desk and hefted the crop in her hand, debating which way to go with it. A heavy hand or a light hand would deliver different results. She could create a multitude of sensations with the impact toy, from sensuous light caresses to sharp stinging bites.

“I know what you like, Max,” She purred as she leaned her body across his back and reached around to take him firmly in her hand, stroking up and down.

Max squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his entire body trembling, “Fuck, Riley, I’m so close already.”

She released him and stepped back, her free hand smacking him on the ass before bringing the crop down onto the tender flesh of his backside. It made a whooshing sound as it cut through the air.

He jerked as the leather bit into him, delivering its stinging kisses. His hands grasped the edge of the desk tightly, the wood digging into his palms. “Oh! Riley!”

Every thwack pushed him closer to the edge.

Thwack!

His fingers pushed harder against the desktop.

Thwack!

His teeth sank into his lower lip as he muffled a grunt of pleasure.

Thwack!

His erection throbbed.

Thwack!

Darkness clouded the edges of his vision as he lost the battle to stay quiet. A high-pitched whine started in the back of his throat.

“I love you, Max,” the words dripped like honey from her lips as she brought the crop down again.

Thwack!

That was it, his hands lost purchase and he toppled forward onto the desktop, guttural cries ripped from him as his body convulsed, his cock pulsing and spewing streams of milky wetness all over the front of the desk, the floor, and his own pants that were still tangled around his ankles.

A shiver ran down his spine, his whole body tingled, and pinpricks of euphoria erupted across his scalp. He slid off the desk onto the floor, kneeling on all fours as he gasped for breath.

Riley tossed the crop onto the desk and sat down next to him, drawing his head into her lap. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, “How are you doing, my sweet boy?”

“I’m doing great!” He relaxed, lying on the office floor, his mind blissfully blank as he reveled in the sensation of floating off into the ether.  

She moved his head from her lap so she could stretch out next to him on the floor, snuggling close to him. They exchanged soft kisses and loving caresses as quiet expressions of love were murmured back and forth.

“You stay there,” she told him as she stretched and sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, I’ll be right back.”

She stepped around the desk and returned a moment later with a small bottle in her hand. Max lay on the floor, chin propped on his folded arms as Riley tenderly applied a soothing aloe vera cream to his reddened bottom, “You should take the rest of the day off and go take a nice warm bath.”

“Mm-uh,” he shook his head, “I want to stay.”

“You want to stay at work on your birthday?” she laughed in surprise.

“I want to stay near you, my everything. Always.”

“All right,” her voice held amusement, but her eyes were filled with warmth as she recapped the bottle, “Have it your way.”

He heaved a sigh, “Speaking of work, I should get out of here before your next appointment arrives.”

“They can wait,” she told him as she stood, “What are they gonna do? I’m the queen!”

“Thank you,” he pushed onto all fours, climbed to his feet, and pulled his pants gingerly back up.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she smirked at him, “I got as much out of it as you did and it’s your birthday!”

“I’m still getting dinner and the peacock show though, right?”

Riley tilted her back as a laugh burst out of her, “Oh, my God, Max, yes!”

Without any spoken instructions or discussion between them, Max retrieved a towel from the attached bathroom and cleaned up the mess while Riley put away the toys. They worked quickly, falling easily into their familiar routine, even though they weren’t in their usual place.

When they were done, Riley ran a hand down his face, “Happy Birthday, sweet boy,” she whispered, bringing her lips to his.

Their tongues tangled together for a few brief moments then Max pulled away with a grin, “See you tonight!”

He was almost at the door when her voice stopped him.

“Max, wait!” Riley rushed to catch up with him, “You forgot to take off your collar!”

“Oh, this?” he grinned as his fingers slid across the supple leather at his neck, “I’m keeping it on.”

“You’re not worried about what people will think?”

“Since when have I ever cared what people think?” he scoffed, “Besides, they probably all heard me in here screaming like a little bitch anyway.”

“Those were very manly screams, Max,” she corrected him.

“Glad you think so,” he took the opportunity to pull her into his arms for one last kiss.

Riley giggled as she let herself be jerked forward into his grasp.

He nuzzled into the side of her neck playfully before bringing his lips to hers and melting into the kiss. An incredible sense of contentment spread over him.

He had an entire birthday weekend planned. Tonight was dinner with his closest friends and family, tomorrow was the peacock show with Riley followed by a huge party. Sunday he was spending the day with Liam. But even if there were no parties, no dinners, and no celebrations, this was already the best birthday he’d ever had.

It was his first birthday with Riley and the first one spent with Liam as a couple. He had the man that he loved and the woman that he loved and by some miracle, they both loved him back. There was literally nothing else on earth that he wanted or needed. He was happy, he was content, and he was beyond grateful for the life they’d built together.

He still wanted to see the peacocks though.

Tagging:

All Things TRR:

@nestledonthaveone  @karahalloway  @tessa-liam  @belencha77 @lovingchoices14

@21-wishes @secretaryunpaid @lunaseasblog  @princessleac1 @bebepac

@emersyn-in-cordonia @walkerdrakewalker @73geenalove  @sillydg @twinkle-320

@queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tinkie1973 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @jared2612 @mainstreetreader

@amandablink @harleybeaumont  @xpandass420x @ladyangel70 @twinkleallnight

@dcbbw  @indiacater @queenmiarys @phoenixrising0308 @gabesmommie1130

@kingliam2019 @3pawandme @bascmve01 @hollygirl1269  @ohmyeightpastlives

@gardeningourmet

@choicesficwriterscreations

[grizzlyofthesea]

I just want to give a quick shoutout to Haunt Couture Lagoona. I know she has a divisive design, but in my opinion, she doesn't get enough love.

She has so many cool details and aesthetic points that I really appreciate about her. A couple of other things, too.

Makeup aside, her face is pretty elaborate. Her eyes and lips have painted lines/segments that make her look just a little bit more "alive."

The slightly lighter, minty hue to the blue streaks in her hair is unique from other Lagoona dolls and gorgeous.

I have no idea what the spiderweb fascinator thing on her headband is supposed to be, but I like it.

People give her flack for not looking more like her basic/core design, but honestly, she has about as many references to her core design as the other HC ghouls do to theirs.*

I would also argue that the fanciness of the outfit is still in-character for her. She may lean toward casual clothes, but she has worn fancy/formal outfits before. She even says in her diary that she'll wear a little black dress every so often just to show everyone that she can pull off the look. She may be athletic and the de-facto tomboy of the group, but she's no stranger to dressing up.

Back to outfit appreciation. With its blue color and shiny PVC material, her jacket almost looks like it's made of water. It also gives me "cool, laid-back biker" vibes.

The shimmer on the pink parts of her dress adds to their scaly, fishy look. The fabric is also stretchy and smooth like a swimsuit. You know she's leaping into the pool immediately after the fashion show.

The fish inside her purse glows in the dark. I just think that's neat. No worries about it being Neptuna's remains, either; it's canonically a skeleton lionfish. Plus, the purse's handle (not strap) looks like coral. Also neat.

The mermaid dress may be a bit played out at the moment, but come on. Fish pun. Plus, HC Lagoona was one of the first skullectors with this silhouette, so I think she gets a pass.

Her midriff and socks have a fine mesh sort of material, almost like netting. Fishnetting.

The use of more unconventional sea creatures in the design, such as octopuses and living nautiluses (vs. just the shell), is honestly really cool. They give the outfit more of a monstrous, "deep sea" vibe than the typical "rainbow/pastel mermaid" aesthetic that you see with a lot of ocean-themed outfits.

Her shoes. Just...everything about her shoe design. The octopus on the heel, perched like a figurehead on a pirate ship, tentacles wrapped around like sandal straps. The shells and coral embedded at the bottom. The monochrome, glittery plastic (rainbow holo glitter, by the way) giving the shoe a "sandy" look. It's perfect. They're perfect.

You don't have to love her. It's all a matter of personal taste in the end. I just wanted to share my appreciation for this underrated doll.

*Elaboration here:

Frankie has the bits of plaid material on her skirt, the studded belt with a lightning bolt charm, the tulle underskirt, and the skullette earrings, but everything else is pretty different.

Draculaura has the netted black tights/sleeves, the lace sleeve cuffs, the pink vest/white blouse combo, and the pink necklace that has a bat charm like her core 2D artwork (but not on the actual doll). Again, pretty different otherwise.

Clawdeen has the pleated purple skirt, the hoop earrings (in one ear), the studded choker, the dual necklaces, and the purse that looks like her core jacket. Despite the overlap in accessories, though, her silhouette is still completely different from her core outfit, whether her fur coat is on or off.

Inversely, Cleo's HC silhouette is similar to her core outfit's, uses a banded fabric to imitate mummy wraps, and has her phone garter thing. However, her extra design elements are associated more with Nefera (turquoise, fringe, scarab beetles).

Lagoona has her pink scale-pattern fabric, her netting, a cropped jacket, a purse with a fish in it, a beaded bracelet on her left wrist, and a necklace with a sea creature charm. Her outfit in general is more formal than her core design, but the references are there.

I love all these designs, and the divergence from their core outfits isn't bad in any way. It creates variety. I just want to show that Lagoona really isn't that different from the others in terms of how much she diverges.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

The ex Vihar crew, despite gaining their previous titles back haven't changed a bit from their mischievous pirate ways. Ferenc ran past the Admiral, only pausing for a quiet gleeful chuckle before disappearing into an another hallway. He may have spent too much time in Jack Sparrow's company.

Rozália has TOLD everyone to not dare to make a fancy bird nest out of her hair; Queen or Captain, that style was always ridiculous. She trusted Ferenc's supposed miracle idea with a certain amount of wariness, but when she caught a glimpse of the nightmare on her head, the man already had a headstart.

So she did what no sane noblewoman would do: bolted after him in underclothes and a garter full of daggers.

She dashed through hallways like the reminiscent of the deadly storm, following the laughter; a sharp turn, a screeching halt to not literally slam into Admiral James Norrington. Being seen especially by him with this on her head was definitely not in the plan. At all.

“Have you seen the bastard who did this with my hair?” she managed, straight to the business

Admiral Norrington raised an eyebrow at the sight before him. Rozália was known for her fierce and intimidating presence as the pirate queen, but here she was, chasing after one of her own crew members in her underclothes with a bizarre hairdo.

his gaze lingering for a moment on the absurdity atop Rozália's head before meeting her fiery glare. "I'm afraid not, your Highness," he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Norrington composed himself and cleared his throat. "I can't say that I have, but may I suggest that you address the matter after you've dressed appropriately?" he said, trying to keep a straight face.

[thebadgerclan]

Little Tease

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Requested by @fandom-puff

Summary: Your choice of attire gets Severus a little riled up...

Smut!

Severus thought he might just die.  His eyes tracked your hands as they pulled sheer black stockings over your legs and hooked them onto a garter belt.  His mouth dried out and his cock hardened in his trousers.  Severus stalked over to you, coming to stand behind you, his hips grinding into your ass, arms coming around your shoulders.  “Have you any idea what you do to me?” he asked, and you smirked, pulling open your dresser drawer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling,” you replied, selecting a plain black skirt that fell to your midthigh.  But Severus wouldn’t let you move from his embrace, pressing a lingering kiss to your jaw.  “Don’t you?  Then just why are you wearing those stockings, my sweet?  I think that you’re trying to tease me, distract me, hmm?”  That was indeed your intent, at least part of it, but you weren’t keen on giving up so soon.  “Why would you do that, Sev?  We both know how much we have to get done today.”

“We can get that done after I fuck you,” Severus said, spinning you in his arms, pressing his lips to yours.  You resisted the intense urge to melt in his arms and let him have his way with you, instead pushing him back gently.  “I wish I could, Sev.  But I have to go into town and pick up a package for Sirius.”  Severus sighed, stepping back from you.  He might be insanely aroused, but if you said no, then he’d go no farther.  You pulled your skirt on, fixing your hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “I’ll be back, love.  And maybe later I’ll let you have your way with me.”

As you exited your bedroom and went down the many stairs of Grimmauld Place, you smirked to yourself.  You didn’t really need to go into town, you could have asked Remus or one of the younger Order members to do it, but what could you say?  You wanted to tease your man.  About an hour later, you returned, giving Sirius his package before heading back upstairs.  Severus caught you halfway up the stairs, pressing you against the wall and kissing you hard.

“I’ve been hard all morning, Y/N,” he rasped against your lips.  “So fucking hard.  I keep picturing your perfect legs in those damn stockings.”  You sighed into the kiss, one arm around his neck, the other hand on his chest.  You trailed that hand down his body until you were cupping Severus’ bulge, making him whimper.  He kissed you again, keeping you against the wall, his tongue entering your mouth.

You gently squeezed Severus’ erection, and he gasped, rolling his hips into your hand.  Just when you were about to suggest moving to the bedroom, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs.  “What do you two think you’re doing?”  Molly Weasley stomped the rest of the way up the steps, fire in her eyes, and you stepped out of your husband’s embrace.  “Molly,” Severus greeted, his voice slightly strained.  “Really you two, I’d have thought you’d have more self restraint than a few 6th years!”

“We are married, Molly,” you said, stepping in front of Severus, both in a protective movement and to hide his erection.  “There is nothing wrong with-”  “I’m noy saying there’s anything wrong with it!  But in the hallway where anyone could see?  There are students here, Severus!”  He said nothing, not trusting himself to speak.  “Now,”  Molly continued.  “Get yourselves together and downstairs for the meeting.”  The Weasley matriarch turned and descended the stairs, Severus sighing when she was gone. “Some nerve on that one,” you muttered, righting your skirt and heading downstairs, Severus following close behind.

***

Of course, it was when Severus was hornier than he’d ever been in his life, when his cock felt like it might burst with how it ached, when he was seriously thinking about taking you over the table, that was when the meeting ran long.  Molly hadn’t stopped you from sitting next to your husband, and you could feel the arousal and tension radiating off of him.  He tried to listen to the meeting, he really did, but Severus’ mind wandered to fantasies of fucking you in every position imaginable.

His hand strayed to his hips, and Severus thanked Merlin that the tablecloth concealed his waist.  Slowly, he pressed on his cock, nearly hissing at the stimulation.  He’d refrained from touching himself while you were gone, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.  Severus palmed himself slowly, enough to relieve the ache, but not enough to truly pleasure him.  His teeth were grit, holding back his sighs and moans of pleasure, his hand working his cock slowly.

When you noticed, you stilled his hand, and Severus couldn’t keep the desperate whine from leaving his throat at the loss of stimulation.  “Soon,” you whispered, eyes staying on the table before you.  Finally, Sirius rose, saying the meeting was over, and Severus thought he might sob.  As soon as there was a clear path up the stairs, he bolted up them, dragging you behind him.  The door to your bedroom slammed shut, and once it was locked and warded, Severus was stripping you naked, moaning at the sight of you in nothing but the stockings and garter belt.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so beautiful,” he said, tearing his own clothes from his body.  “My gorgeous wife.  And you’re all mine.”  You’d been wet all day, as Severus had been hard all day, and you whimpered as he pulled you flush to him, kissing you deeply.  Now naked, his hard, weeping cock pressed to your abdomen, and your pussy clenched around nothing.  “Severus, fuck me,” you pleaded, and that was all he needed to hear.

Severus roughly pushed you onto the bed, flipping you onto your belly and pulling you up to your hands and knees.  There was no need to ready either of you; you were plenty wet enough, and Severus lined himself up, thrusting into you hard.  “Fuck!” you shouted as he stretched you out, cock filling you up just right.  He set a rough, hard, nearly brutal pace, skin slapping against skin, sweet, desperate moans filling the room.  Severus bent over you, rutting into you like a dog in heat, the pent up desperation and need he’d felt all day finally letting loose.

“Teasing me with those stockings all day,” he grunted.  “Fuck, Y/N, the things you do to me.  I’ve wanted to fuck you all day, ever since I saw you put those bloody things on.”  “Sev,” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head.  “Yes!  Right there, oh fuck!”  The head of his cock was ramming into your g-spot with each thrust, the angle allowing him to fuck you deeper.  His hips moved with almost inhuman speed, drawing you closer and closer to that blissful peak.

And Severus sensed it, as he always could, and brought a hand around your waist to rub your clit.  “S-Severus!” you wailed, bucking your hips weakly to match his thrusts.  “Yes!  Oh, yes!  Please, please, oh fuck, I’m gonna… yes!”  Your words devolved into a string of gibberish as your orgasm crested, legs trembling and giving out beneath you.  Severus held you upright as he came, biting down on your shoulder as he released within you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, kissing over your neck and up the side of your face, pulling out a moment later.  You whined at the loss, content to lie with him inside you for hours on end, keeping you filled up, but sense was also lost on you at the moment.  Severus cast the contraceptive and cleaning charms, pulling your stockings and garters from your legs.  He then lay down at your side, pulling you into his chest, kissing you sweetly and tenderly.

“Little tease,” he whispered, a smile on his face.  “I love you so much.”  “Hmm, I love you too, Sev.”  “You looked so damn beautiful in those, Y/N.  You always look beautiful, but those stockings just added something to it.”  “Thank you, Sev.  I thought you’d like them.”  “Oh I do, very much.  I think I’ll have to buy you more.  A lot more.”  You laughed softly, cuddling closer to Severus’ chest.  “My beautiful wife, I love you.”  You hummed, too fucked out and tired to respond, but the sentiment was clear.

[petitmonde]

Would you look at that, it's finally time for the Jasco side of things in Prank Wars. This is still sort of early, with Bosco trying to balance out their emotions with their own big plan on how to reveal it's a hoax.

Try me on (Jasco)

When Bosco had decided to drag her to the mall, Jasmine certainly hadn't expected to be standing in a Victoria's Secret. Being a good friend, Jasmine went in with them without a question, though she had many.

Bosco made a beeline for the most provocative lingerie that was in the store, Jasmine merely following along. She wasn't really looking at the underwear herself, while Bosco perused the selection.

With almost a practiced hand, it was like Bosco knew exactly what garments to pull from the racks. Two sets in red and three in black. They didn't even look at the tags to make sure the sizing was correct. Very suspicious indeed.

"Can you wait outside the changing room while I try these on?" Bosco held up their haul to show that they were done with their selection for now.

"Yeah, sure." Jasmine agreed easily enough. What in the world is Bosco planning? Jasmine could feel the tell tale pricks in the back of her mind telling her she was being duped into something once again. Bosco closed the curtain, and Jasmine just stood there awkwardly in the store, anticipating the worst.

A hand emerged from beyond the curtain grabbed Jasmine's to pull her in. She was now face to face with Bosco in a red lace number that was strangely frilly for them.

"So, what do you think?" Bosco posed as best as they could in such a tiny space, showing off what little cleavage they had.

Jasmine eyed Bosco up and down to take in the whole picture. "Very cute. I didn't know you were into that kind of thing."

Bosco looked themselves in the mirror for a brief second, then shoved Jasmine out of the changing room. "I'm trying out another one, stay there."

Before Jasmine could register what had just happened, she was once again pulled into the small space. This time, Bosco wore one of the black sets that they had found. It was much more in their style, and the corset and garter added to the set really made for a jawdropping sight.

Bosco changed tactics. Instead of posing, they put one of their hands on the wall, essentially trapping Jasmine within their confines. "This." Bosco put their other hand against the wall. "Is much better right?"

"Definitely. This is definitely more you." Jasmine didn't move an inch. She kept on her dumb smile, as if she couldn't feel the tension that was brewing.

Bosco could feel Jasmine's breath, how close she was. Jasmine's sweet smell of lavender. The body heat. Everything Jasmine. And something in them short circuited. What were they doing again?

Instead of doing the logical thing of maybe touching Jasmine slightly or moving off in a way that would make her chase them, Bosco put their foot against the wall. And then the other. They were now hovering over the floor like some sort of cicada. The metaphorical eye fucking that Bosco had been planning on went right out with their plan to look seductive the moment their heart began to beat harder.

"What are you doing?" Jasmine was taken aback. Bosco looked absolutely silly, and she didn't know what to think of the situation. It certainly didn't read as any prank, though you never knew with Bosco.

Crap, she's weirded out! What the hell do I do now? Bosco panicked, looking through their own brain for any morsel of coherent thoughts on how to move forward. Finding none, they stepped down from the wall to free Jasmine from their hold. "Sorry. Why don't you find something for yourself?"

"Oh, okay. I still have no idea what that was. But I could try looking for something nice. Yeah, I should do that." Jasmine near bolted out of the dressing room to find something for herself, leaving Bosco to get dressed by themselves.

Jasmine, unlike Bosco, didn't know what to look for, not having planned to go to a lingerie store. It left Bosco plenty of room to pretend that they had tried on the other sets before coming out of the dressing room themselves.

They stalked their way over to where Jasmine was looking through some of the colourful, patterned bras. Jasmine picked up a couple, turned them over, then put them back on the rack. She definitely needed assistance, something that would spur Bosco back onto the original plan.

Like a siren's call, Bosco found a cute but sexy green set of lingerie that they knew would look great on Jasmine. "Here, try this on." Bosco handed her the set.

"Thanks, I'll do that now." Jasmine squeezed Bosco's arm in appreciation then went into the changing room to try it on. Bosco, like a whipped dog, followed after her to wait outside.

"You can come in." Jasmine didn't have to tell them twice to come inside to see her in underwear. Without even trying, Jasmine was gorgeous. Her breasts filled the bra deliciously, which made it difficult not to stare.

"They look expensive." Their eyes were trained on the mounds in front of them, instead of focusing on the actual garment. Despite their haze, Bosco did still feel a bit of jealousy when it came to Jasmine's boobs.

"I looked at the price tag and it's not too bad." Jasmine turned around so that Bosco could get a full look. Their eyes traveled downwards to Jasmine's shapely ass. That green material really complemented the supple skin underneath. It was getting difficult to breathe once again.

Completing her 360, Jasmine smiled at them sheepishly. She really had no clue what was going through their mind.

"Do you think Daya will like it?"

[fics-by-caroline]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Magical!Reader

Summary: You and Loki are part of the Avengers, but the pair of you have different ideas of what justice entails than the rest of the group; i.e., more horror, more drama, an eye for an eye. And man, do you two ever look sexy covered in blood.

Category: Smut (18+ only, please!)

Warnings: Smut (blood kink, oral sex -- f receiving), rough sex, porn with some plot), language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, smoking, alcohol consumption, mention of human trafficking.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so please be nice 🥺

   Taking a drag from a cigar in the corner of the dimly-lit speakeasy, your target looked you up and down. Even without tapping into his thoughts, you could tell that he liked what he saw; how the black dress you wore hugged your figure, how you had crossed your legs in a way that allowed him to catch the red bottoms of your heels, red that was reflected in your lipstick and nails. You turned to make eye contact with him, and were immediately hit with hearing him imagine you on your knees sucking him off in one of his fancy cars and afterwards kicking you out onto the street.

   Typical, You thought with disgust, finishing your martini. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Feeling him get up and walk towards you, you shot a knowing look at Loki across the bar.

   “Can I buy you a drink?” The man’s voice was dripping in disgusting salaciousness. He sat beside you, reeking of the over-application of cologne, whiskey, and cigar smoke.

   You shot him a demure smile. “A dirty martini, drier than the Sahara.”

   The man waved down the bartender before leaning closer to you. “Michael Ashbourne.”

   You suppressed an eye roll, taking instead to lighting a cigarette. “I know who you are, Mr. Ashbourne.”

   “And what is it that you know of me?” Ashbourne stroked your hair with a drunken finger.

   Uncrossing your legs, you turned to face him. “That you are one of the worst Midgardian men alive today. You cheat people out of their winnings in various casinos around the world, making yourself and your friends — no doubt the ones who surrounded you in that corner over there — some of the richest men in the world, while managing to operate under the radars of your enemy governments. You sell weapons and drugs because you always want even more money on top of the billions you already have, not caring about the damage you cause. You drink the most expensive liquors, sleep with all the women you please, and leave people eating the dust in your wake. But what brings you to the epitome of disgusting actions is your engagement in the trafficking of girls, once again, for even more money.” Even though you kept your voice low, you made sure to lace every word with biting poison.

   Ashbourne pulled back in shock, unmoving and speechless.

   You smirked at his silence. “Your cunningness is almost impressive, especially for a human. You manage to remain one step ahead of the mewling mortals who are left to crawl in your fading footprints. Bravo. Unfortunately for you, however, I am not one of them.” You waved a finger, from which a small ribbon of white magic followed.

   “Who the hell are you?” Ashbourne hissed.

   “A hero in the eyes of the people you have crossed, and the villain in yours.”

   Ashbourne scoffed condescendingly. Stupid bitch, you heard him think. “Speaking in mysterious riddles just makes you look stupid, missy. I don’t know how you know what you know, but it’s a bit too much for my liking.” He raised a hand, beckoning over the large men who had accompanied him.

   You sighed, unimpressed. Before they could so much as reach for their belt, you pulled the pistol from your garter stockings and fired silenced shots in between their eyes, before holding a dagger against Ashbourne’s throat. The speakeasy froze in horrified silence.

   With a small chuckle at the sudden shock and fear in Ashbourne’s muddy eyes, you called to Loki. “Darling, are there others?”

   “No darling, not here … but we can’t have witnesses, can we?” Loki sauntered up to you, kissing you on the head. He looked around at the few bystanders in the bar, terror keeping their feet rooted in place.

   “Loki, is that really necessary —”

   You were cut off by Loki launching towards the horrified bystanders like a cat pouncing on prey, his daggers slicing through their necks gliding ease. He finished off by throwing a knife into the bartender’s skull, silencing his terrorized mind that shrieked in your own so annoyingly. Loki looked back at you with an amused glint in his eyes, blood on every surface of the speakeasy, including Loki’s own body. Gesturing around him, he noted dryly, “They were dead in seconds, no suffering.”

   You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Ashbourne, who sat with eyes wide and mouth agape. You smirked and applied a bit more pressure to the blade in your hand, drawing small beads of blood. You snuffed out your cigarette and stood up, toying with his bowtie as your heel dug into his foot. You could taste the fear that drenched his mind. “What’s this?” You cooed. “Feeling scared?”

   “Ah, you’re so right, my love,” Loki smiled, looking around the room at the bloody mess he created. “Not using magic is so much more fun. I missed getting my hands dirty.”

   You chuckled lowly. You couldn’t help but stare at him hungrily; there was something in the way the blood splatter stood out against his pale skin that awoke an arousal in you. Shaking your head, you turned back to the man under your knife and cocked an eyebrow. “How do you think I should do this? Stabbing is too classic, going for the neck is too neat.”

   “Unzip him, dear,” Loki hummed. He shot a bolt of green magic towards the man, binding him in glowing ropes that wrapped around his pitiful body. Noticing your dry look, he shrugged. “I want a proper view of your handiwork, and I can’t have that if I’m holding him.”

   “Fair enough,” You said. After a moment’s thought, you waved your hands, making Ashbourne’s shirt disappear in a white flash of your own magic.

   “Wait, wait, stop. What do you want? Money? I have money. What do you want?” Ashbourne pleaded.

   “I want ...” you said coldly, “to hear you scream.”

   You stepped forward and sunk your dagger into his lower abdomen, slicing upwards smoothy, careful as to not sever any major blood vessels. Ashbourne screamed in agony — music to both yours and Loki’s ears. You grinned at the blood that spurted out to meet you, and tossed the dagger onto the surface of the bar. You looked at the open mess in front of you and sunk your hand into the open cavity, making Ashbourne wail.

   Loki smacked Ashbourne’s face with a deadly glare. “Stay awake, you.”

   You reached farther into Ashbourne’s gut, quickly finding the pulsating aorta. You looked up at Ashbourne’s paling face, cheek now sporting a bloody handprint from where Loki had slapped him, and pulled on the artery, which snapped and spurted hot blood all over you. Loki released his magic binds, leaving the body of the man to collapse like a rag doll onto the floor, very much dead.

   You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you discarded the shred of aorta in your hands onto the lifeless body. You turned to look at Loki, who was smiling back at you with a familiar, blazing fire behind his eyes. He reached over and picked up your discarded dagger from the tabletop. He looked it over once, then swiped his tongue up one side of the blade. You groaned in arousal at the sight.

   “The taste of justice, my dear,” He said, licking his lips.

   He turned his fiery gaze back on you, holding the knife out for your taking. Without breaking eye contact, you licked up the other side, the metallic taste of Ashbourne’s blood spreading through your mouth only adding to the wet ache between your legs.

   “Fucking hell,” Loki breathed, the large bulge in his dress trousers clearly evident.

   You took the dagger, swiping away the rest of the blood that stained it on your finger and licked it clean. A deep rumble escaped from Loki’s lips before he smashed his lips onto yours, your tongues trading the tastes of blood and saliva. With a sharp tug, Loki tore your dress down and pinched your nipples between his bloodied fingers as he backed you up onto the bar. While normally, he would take his time with you, tease you at a torturously slow pace, make you plead and squirm beneath him, he now was fuelled purely by an animalistic flame, his lips and teeth marking your lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones. You broke apart only for you to render the pair of you naked by way of a flick of the wrist and a flash of white light. You stared at each other, both of you breathless and admiring how the blood that drenched your clothing had stained your bodies in a beautiful pattern of death.

   “I love you so much,” You whispered.

   “I love you too,” Loki said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip lightly.

   In a flash, the momentary gentleness was gone as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them. You shouted out in pleasure, then gasped when you felt Loki’s tongue on your clit.

   “Fuck, Loki!” You hissed, throwing your head back and grinding deeper onto Loki’s fingers and tongue.

   The most audacious and obscene sounds filled the speakeasy as Loki twisted his fingers inside your cunt and attacked you with his mouth. You moaned unabashedly and Loki in return groaned against your body. His nips against your clit were anything but gentle, his fingers fucking your cunt so deeply, so gloriously, that your entire body sparked with invisible electricity.

   “You’re going to cum for me,” Loki growled, “you’re going to cum for me and make me drink it as you do.”

   You nodded into the air, gasping, panting, writhing under him. You clenched around his head, locking Loki into place, and came on his face, rolling and thrusting your hips against his mouth. Loki held your hips and drank your release until your orgasm finally finished washing over you.

  Before you could begin to catch your breath, Loki seized your neck in one large hand and pushed himself inside of you in one fluid motion, causing the both of you to moan loudly. He started moving his hips immediately at a quick and relentless pace, splitting you apart in pleasure. You reached up to wrap your arms and legs around him desperately. As he hit that sweet spot that no other could, you brought your nails down his back, no doubt drawing blood. All thoughts had disappeared from your minds, pure animalistic pleasure and arousal clearing everything else out. Your combined energy made the lights spark and flicker, furniture going flying as your grip on your magic became weaker. Loki slammed into you, your walls tight around him, his pelvis grinding in such a way that he moved against your clit. You were only barely registering how you clung onto him for dear life, the most indecent noises pouring from both of your mouths, bodies slick in blood and sweat sliding against one another. Your connection into each other’s minds let you both know that the other was just as close to their climax without speaking. Expletives punctuated your shared groans and screams, Loki’s grip on your body so tight that bruises were sure to follow, your teeth and nails marking his skin.

   “Loki, I — fuck — Loki!” You cried as you felt your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

   “I know, I — ah! I know —!” Loki groaned, biting your neck.

   You exploded again with a scream and you slammed your hand onto the table, releasing a huge pulse of magic that levelled the room around you. Green explosions set off around you as Loki lost control and spilled into you with a stammering thrust and deep groan. Even though your eyes were both closed, you could see each other in your minds, totally blissful and exhausted, chests heaving. Loki’s lips found yours in a loving kiss.

   “We should ... we should clean up here before the others come by,” You said, still out of breath.

   Loki nodded wordlessly. He pulled out of you, causing you to whimper. We waved his hand, and the speakeasy righted itself in a glow of green light. Tables and chairs fixed themselves, light fixtures hung back up on the ceilings, blood and bodies disappeared, until the only remnant of your activities was the gore that still covered your naked bodies. You stood up and cricked your neck before cleaning yourself and Loki up, and dressing the pair of you in the dress and tuxedo you two were wearing. 

   “What will we say to the others when they ask about the sudden disappearance of everyone here?” You asked slowly.

   “Don’t worry, love,” Loki grinned, “we can tell them the truth. We’re both too valuable for them to kick us out of the group.”

   You laughed and took Loki’s outstretched arm, walking out into the cool night.

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Dewey Decimal System

Max Cady x Reader in the library, no plot, just smut

Dedicating this little work to @droogiesanddiscourse who just today found out she's graduating with honors!!! I'm so proud of you bb!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

TW: smut, public sex, explicit/raunchy dialogue, Max Cady in general?

Word Count: 2.2k

“My baby’s so smart, knowing how to find any book in the library,” your boyfriend, Max, coos quietly to you as you saunter through the aisles and aisles of books, softly leading him with his hand in yours. “You know I didn’t learn to read until my stay in the big house, but I never did learn numbers all that well. I’m glad my little princess can navigate this, uh, what do you call it? Dew something?’

“The Dewey Decimal System!” you whisper in a giggle.

“The Dewey Decimal System...” he tried the words out on his tongue, “Well, I’m glad you can lead me in the right direction, angel.”

“Oop, right here!!” you point up at a tall shelf. Max’s body crashes into yours, nearly landing you both on the floor, as you stopped so suddenly.

“Goodness gracious, girlie, you must be excited to do some reading, huh?” his voice rumbles lowly next to your ear. His muscular arms wrap tightly around your midsection, pressing your backside against him. You can feel his arousal stirring already; he really has no qualms about doing nasty things to you, any time, anywhere. “Oh, baby, I’m already thinking about you reading to me... Hearing that sweet little voice say such naughty things, those pretty little lips forming unholy syllables...” And in true Max Cady fashion, his fingertips are already teasing at the edge of your skirt, threatening for his rough palms to attack your delicate thighs.

You feel a single finger creep up to your hip, teasing at the waistband of your panties, “I hope you aren’t particularly fond of these, ‘cuz they’re coming off now, honey.” And with that, his other hand quickly follows the first one up your skirt and before you could even protest, the man is on his knees and the lacy underwear around your ankles. He helps you out of them as is you were a toddler, getting them over your shoes.

He quickly snatches a book from the bottom shelf and flips it open to a random page before stuffing your panties in it and shoving it back on the shelf. “Max!!!” you whisper-yell.

“What?” he plays dumb, standing back up to press himself into your backside again. “You don’t want someone findin’ your panties? Knowin’ what we did in here? Mmm, well I wanna spread the word about you, baby... Besides, they can use it as a bookmark.” His hands grip your hipbones and he gives you a sloppy kiss on your neck, making a loud slurping noise.

“Max! Shhh!!”

“You’re so cute, all worried about getting caught. You think we’ll get in trouble if someone sees us, or god forbid if someone hears us in this quiet place?”

“Maaaaxxx...” you whine.

“Mm, yeah? You like that idea? Someone hearing the way I turn you into a whore for me? You don’t sound as innocent as you look once I get you goin’.” His hand slides around to your sex, teasing you roughly through the smooth fabric of your skirt, and when you let out a little whimper, it only proves his point.

"Alright, princess, why don't you grab us that book we're looking for?" Following his question, Max's strong arms easily hoist you off the ground, lifting you up, up, up to reach that top shelf and pull down one of Max's favorite books: 𝘛𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳. Oh, and don't think that he missed the opportunity to peak under that skirt...

• • •

As you and Max relax in two adjacent armchairs that he scooted close together, you recite prose from your boyfriend's favorite author. Just a few pages in, you're already at one of his favorite parts. You can read the sheer excitement on Max's face when he says, "Alright, darlin', you better speak up for this next part, you know how much I like the dirty bits."

You look around, making sure no one is nearby, and you start, "'At night when I look at Boris' goatee lying on the pillow I get hysterical.'"

"Louder," Max tilts his head forward, looking at you from under his brow bone.

You raise your voice only slightly, "'O Tania, where now is that warm cunt of yours, those fat, heavy garters, those soft, bulging thighs?'"

"I can't hear you..." he chimes devilishly.

"'There is a bone in my prick six inches long...'"

"And what's he gonna do with it?" Like he doesn't already know.

"'I will ream out every wrinkle in your cunt, Tania, big with seed,'" you look around again, checking for any poor passersby, "'I will send you home to your Sylvester with an ache in your belly and your womb turned inside out.'"

Max let's out a low whistle, "That Henry Miller suuuure knew what he was talking about, huh?" He leans forwards and rather directly slides his hand under your skirt, thumb quickly parting your lips to find that special little bundle of nerves.

You gasp loudly, and Max continues, "Yeah? You want me to turn your womb inside out like he did to Tania? Make that little cunt smooth with my big cock?" His voice is just loud enough that it still sounds intimate but anyone walking by could easily hear.

In an attempt to quiet your moans, you press on reading, "’Your Sylvester! Yes, he knows how to build a fire-‘"

"’But I know how to inflame a cunt!’" Max finishes your sentence for you before pulling you up out of your chair and into his lap, where his fingers quickly find their place between your thighs as if it is the most natural thing in the world to him. "Keep reading, princess," he whispers softly in your ear.

You become aware of his hard length pressing into your thigh, as you read the line, "’I shoot hot bolts into you, Tania, I make your ovaries incandescent.’”

Max lets out a deep moan that rumbles your eardrums and presses some kisses to your cheek and jawline.

“‘Your Sylvester is a little jealous now? He feels something, does he? He feels the remnants of my big prick. I have set the shores a little wider. I have ironed out the wrinkles,’” Max starts to rut against you in his lap. His hands take a firm grip on your hips and slide you back and forth against the erection trapped in his pants. You keep going, “‘After me you can take on stallions, bulls, rams, drakes, St. Bernards. You can stuff toads, bats, lizards up your rectum. You can shit arpeggios if you like, or string a zither across your navel.’”

His moans become quite noisy and his hands search for your flesh; one hand slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the soft skin of your tummy, the other getting an anchor hold on your hair and giving it a rough tug. You inhale sharply wincing at the pain. You can tell Max is getting needy for you; it would never cease to fascinate you how some little girl (anyone is small next to his towering muscular frame) could have so much control over him.

“‘I am fucking you, Tania, so that you'll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately-‘“

“Damn, that sounds like a good idea,” Max grunts out and unzips his pants, “I sure hope you aren’t afraid of being fucked publicly.”

His next few actions only take a few seconds, and before you can even realize it, you’ve been hoisted up and swiftly dropped down onto your boyfriend’s thick cock. You somehow let out a gasp and a squeal at the same time, and Max claps his hand over your mouth. The only other sound is the thud of the book hitting the floor and closing. Where Max wanted you to speak up before, now it’s time for the quiet game...

“How’s that feel? Daddy’s big cock stretching out those tight walls, huh?” Clearly, it’s a rhetorical question since his hand stays clasped over your mouth. It’s Max’s turn to tease you with his words. “You always take me so well, my little princess. You think if anyone walked by they would know that you’re filled to the brim with my prick? You’ve been trained well, baby girl, you can take me and no one knows I’m inside you, but I know how turned on you are, I felt how wet you were when I was touching you. You wanted this, and I bet everyone knows how much you wanted it, I bet that librarian in the next room knows you have your pussy stuffed right now.”

In all honestly, this guy Ryan had just started working at the library; he had hoped it would be more a bit more relaxing than his job at the local drive-in movie theatre. But Ryan recognized you and Max when you came in, and he really, REALLY doesn’t want another awkward interaction with your boyfriend, so he’s gonna leave you to do whatever you want in the back room of the library...

His hand still covers your mouth as you lean your head back onto his shoulder, looking at him out the corner of your eye. His other arm braces your hips, keeping you flush to him so you can feel every time his member twitches. “You feel me, princess? Feel that ‘bone in my prick’ and how bad I want you?”

You nod your head as much as his grip will allow, eyes never leaving his.

“If I can be frank, sweetheart, Daddy’s never been good at this whole cockwarming thing like you are. It always leaves me wanting more, and you know Daddy can’t resist having more of you... Whaddaya say we play horsey instead? I’ll bounce you on my lap like the dumb little baby doll you are, just like your old man did for you when you were a kid."

You let out an excited little whimper, and Max moves his hands to your hips. "Now I can't keep a hand on your mouth anymore. Think you can keep quiet for me?"

You nod your head excitedly and whisper as quietly as you can, "Yes, sir, Daddy. Can I have a kiss?"

"Aww, of course you can, angel," his lips meet yours in a wet, unrefined fashion, giving you the rough kind of kiss you need. Max also takes this moment to start bouncing you in his lap, just like horsey. With your lips pressed to his, it muffles any sounds that escape the two of you.

His thrusts are small and quick, but actually really satisfying at this angle. The girth of him presses against that special spot inside you. That combined with the thrill of possibly getting caught already has that feeling creeping up in your belly. Your nails dig into his hips looking for something to ground you as you find ecstasy in your orgasm.

But your climax isn't gonna stop Max from what he's doing. He continues to bounce you on his lap, whispering, "Mmm, finished so soon? You must like bouncing on my cock. Bouncy, bouncy..."

You bite your lip, still riding out your orgasm as he continually slams into your g-spot. When a drawn out little whine hums out of you, Max shushes you with a "Shhhh, shhh, baby. You're doing so good, such a good girl for Daddy. Just a little longer, I'm so close, princess."

With your brows furrowed and eyes closed tight, you brave yourself on the arms of the chair. You feel two calloused fingertips at your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, taking them in.

"There that'll keep you quiet for this next part," Max warns before absolutely plowing his hips up into you as fast as he can. His other hand maintains such a firm grip on your side, you think he'll probably leave bruises.

Max chokes back a deep grunt and pulls you down into his lap to spill his seed inside you. You feel his length jolting and that warm gooey liquid. You both sit there catching your breath, and Max wraps his arms around you in a loving embrace.

He gets you to look at him, placing another dirty kiss to your mouth. Then he pulls you off of him, stand up, places you back down on the chair, and gets his pants zipped up.

"Um. Max?" you whisper, a little tense.

"What is it, little darlin'?" He gets on his knees in front of you, placing his big hands on your thighs.

"Uhhh... I think there's gonna be a little mess on this chair," you get right next to his ear and oh so quietly tell him, "it's, uh, leaking."

"Aww, are you worried about leaving some of my cum on the chair?" he places a hand on your chin, "That was the point, baby. The librarian can handle it." Max gives you a wink before taking you by the hand and leading you out of the library.

Poor Ryan.... Scarred again by Max and his girl, and now he has to clean up after them.

[nagito-kissmaeda]

I really don't know if requests are open so I'm sorry if I didn't noticed they're closed 💔 However if they are open could you please write Nagito with female s/o that lost bet to Hiyoko and running around island in maid dress?

ミ☆ Sorry this took me so long! Also it got very nasty and i hope that is okay lol. I can’t help myself when it comes to Nagito. Word count: 2024 Contains: NSFW, fem reader, they/them pronouns, explict sexual content, voyeurism ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

This is humiliating. 

The Jabberwock island sun is burning down hot as always, you can feel the skin of your bare arms already starting to burn and your legs are getting sweaty under the thick thigh high socks. This outfit was not designed for this weather, but clearly Hiyoko Saionji cared very little about that fact.

She is walking beside you, snickering behind a hand. The six inch heels she has forced you into makes her seem even shorter than usual.

You sigh, “How much longer?”

“I told you! One whole lap of the islands!” She taps a finger to her chin, feigning thoughtfulness, “We’re about...halfway done.”

You huff and cross your arms. You don't usually wear heels, your feet are already starting to ache, and the unpaved path on central island makes it even harder for you to walk, “Can I at least take the shoes off?”

Saionji scoffs, “Uh, obviously not. The heels are essential. You think i'm just gonna let you run around in sneakers? What would even be the fucking point?”

“Yeah, yeah, Okay. I get it.” 

To be fair, this was all your fault. After waking up from the Neo World Program, you and the rest of your classmates found that the island was a mess and had spent the past few months slowly making it livable. It must have been rotten luck that got you paired with Saionji to clean out the back room in the diner on the second island. Apparently the waitresses who worked there before the island was abandoned used to wear sexy maid costumes, and there happened to be one in your size. Saionji had said something about a bet, that if you were game enough to walk around in the maid costume, she would take on your cleaning duties for the next three days. It was a bad idea, you really should have said no.

There's a gust of wind and your short skirt flutters around your thighs. You clench your jaw and try your best to keep your panties from showing. Saionji laughs again. 

“Remember when we bumped into Hanamura earlier and he said that he thought you looked-”

“Shut up, Saionji.” You hiss, walking a little faster as you cross the bridge over to the first island, “Withstanding your ridicule was not part of the deal.”

“Yeah, but it wasn't not not part of the deal.” She sticks her tongue out. 

The heels are so loud on the wooden slats of the bridge, and it takes a decent amount of effort to stop yourself from getting stuck in one of the gaps and tripping. You can tell Saionji thinks it is very funny how hard you need to focus on your own feet. 

“Okay.” She says as you step out onto the island, “One loop here, and then back to the second island. You might actually manage it if you dont trip and break a leg on the way back,”

You shoot her a glare, “Was that a threat?”

She shrugs, “Just saying you should watch where you walk” She playfully taps your shin with the side of her foot, you manage not to stumble, but it was still a dirty move. 

Before you are able to call her out for her nasty trick, Saionji laughs again and nods her head in the direction of the cabins. You’ve just made your way in through the front gate, and are about to head down to the restaurant, “Look who was lucky enough to leave his cottage right as were walking past.”

Saionji’s intonation on the word lucky makes your stomach twist and turn. You’re too afraid to follow her line of sight, swallowing nervously and looking down at the ground, “Hey, uh, i think I’m calling it here. You win.”

You move to walk away, buy Saionji grabs you by the wrist, “What are you chickening out for? I didn't realise you were such a loser.”

“Saionji” You warn, glaring down at her, “You better let me go or else i will-”

“Ah, hello!” Komaeda interrupts. You freeze, heart racing at the sound of his voice. This is literally the worst thing that could have possibly happened. Your cheeks are burning “How lucky it is that I get to see the both of...ah…” His voice slowly trails off as he notices what you are wearing. It's with a newfound desperation that you struggle to escape Saionji’s grip, but she holds fast. 

“Hey, Weirdo.” Saionji jeers, her hand still tight around your wrist, “Do you like this cute outfit I found?”

“Oh...I...uh…” 

You let your eyes slip up to his face. Komaeda has his hair up in a ponytail and his cheeks are burning red as he stares down at the length of bare thigh peeking out from the top of your stockings. You can hear the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

You like Komaeda. As in, you really like Komaeda. 

Seeing him getting all flustered is doing strange things to your stomach, but you are still frozen with embarrassment. 

“I think he likes it~” Saionji taunts, smirking up at you. 

His eyes are combing over you, his lower lip pulled in between his teeth. There's warmth between your thighs, your fingernails are digging into your palms. You barely even notice as you start getting bolder, gently brushing the hemline of your skirt with your hand, tugging it a little further up your thigh. Komaeda’s throat bobs. 

“Did...did Saionji make you do this?” He asks.

You nod, still feeling too overwhelmed to actually say anything. He must see the way you are looking at him, the way his blush runs all the way down to his collarbones, the way you want desperately to see more of his skin. His eyes meet yours questioning, but hungry. 

“You look…” he heaves a shaky breath, eyes quickly flitting over to Saionji  like he is trying to remind himself that she is still there, “...good.”

You grip onto the fabric of your skirt to stop your hands from shaking, “Thank you. Um-” you look down at your toes for a moment,  “Hanamura got kind of weird about it, but i'm uh…” you look back up at Komaeda, his eyes are perfect and green, “I’m glad that you like it…”

He’s just staring at you now, and you hope that he understands the meaning of your words. That maybe this whole embarrassing ordeal is worth it if he finds you attractive. You want him so badly, you want him to want you so badly. The way his eyes roam over your body makes you quiver with something. Nerves? Excitement? 

“What the fuck is happening right now?”

You and Komaeda are suddenly pulled from a trance and forced to look back down at Saionji. She’s staring up at you with a mix of horror and confusion.

You feel a bolt of arousal shoot down to your center when Komaeda turns to her and says, “Would you mind leaving us alone, Saionji-san?”

Saionji blinks, “Huh? We’ve still got to walk all the way back to the second island or they lose the bet! I'm not going anywhere in case she cheats!”

“Bet’s off.” You say, pulling your wrist from her grasp and taking a step closer to Komaeda. God, even with the heels on he is still taller than you, “You should really go.”

Saionji barks a laugh, “Fine, but you better not complain when you have cleaning duty all next week.” 

He is very subtle about it, but you feel the cool touch of Komaeda’s fingers on your bare thigh, he stares at Saionji over your shoulder and is much less polite when he says, “Saionji, leave.” 

You don't turn around, but you hear the sound of sandals clattering on wood as she dashes out of the hotel area. The second she is out of view, Komaeda grabs you by the shoulders and pins you up against the wall of the closet cottage (Souda’s? It really doesn't matter) breathing so heavily that you can see his shoulders shaking.

“I’m...I’m so sorry...I” He back pedals, letting his arms fall to the sides, “I don't know what came over me, I'm such garbage i-”

Fuck it, you think. Grabbing the front of his coat and tugging his lips up against yours. It takes him a moment to recognise what is even happening, but the second he does, his large hands grab tight on either side of your waist and he kisses you back in a fervor. You can feel him moan against your lips, and it’s too much for you. So you spin him around until he is the one with his back up against the wall, jamming your knee in between his legs and shoving one hand up under his shirt. His skin is smooth, you can feel his ribs under your fingers. He whimpers under your lips when your tongue enters his mouth, tangling with his, and one of his hands creeps down to the short hemline of your skirt, slipping his fingers up underneath. You hear him choke on a moan when he finds that your stockings are being held up by a garter-belt. 

“You’re killing me.” He hisses against your mouth. 

You lift up the knee between his legs and grind it against his crotch. He makes the cutest little noise, hips wriggling against the pressure of your knee until he is basically fucking himself on it. You moan at the sight of him, cheeks red, hair mussed, writhing against you desperately. 

“That’s a good boy.” You whisper in his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat, “Does that feel nice?”

“Hng-I….I…” he throws his head backward until it collides with the wall, “What about..ahhAH...what about you?”

Watching him like this is getting you wet enough as it is, you smirk and suck gently on his pulse point, “What about me? I want to watch you cum, sweetheart. That’s what i want.”

His green eyes are blown wide when they meet yours, he swallows, “Out….outside?”

“Yeah, baby.” You press your knee up even harder and relish in the choked sound he makes, “Right here.” 

You aren't sure what it is about the maid costume that gives you this confidence, but you feel powerful. Watching Komaeda moan and drool as he grinds furiously against your stocking-clad knee is only making you feel sexier. 

The hand you have under his shirt sneaks upward even further, he squeaks when you rub one of his nipples between your thumb and forefinger, “You think you can cum for me, sweetheart?”

He nods furiously, hips quivering as you continue biting and sucking your way down his throat and over his shoulder. You can feel him growing more desperate, you can feel his pressing his throbbing cock harder and harder against the unyielding pressure of your knee. His mouth is hung open, drool is dripping down his chin and he is flushed all the way down to his chest. You moan just from the mere sight of him, your sex clenching with desire, but that would have to wait. You wanted to watch him come undone.

“I…I’m” he whines, writhing and panting against you, “I’m so close…”

“You’re going to cum?”

Komaeda makes a noise of affirmation, but it mostly just sounds like a moan. You grin and push your knee up even higher, leaning in to lick up the shell of his ear.

“Go on, then.” You whisper, “Cum for me, pretty boy,”

A moan rips through him. So loud that anyone nearby must have heard it. His hips quiver and shake against you, grinding and wriggling and then finally coming to a stop. He looks godlike, his hair fucked five ways to hell and his eyes glazed over with arousal. A shaky giggle escapes his mouth, and then he licks his lips. 

“Okay. Your turn”

You don't resist when he grabs you by the hand and pulls you to his cottage. Maybe Saionji actually helped you out for once, even if she didn't mean it. 

[iwouldfuckdarkiplier]

Maybe one day, Dark felt curious. What was it like for you, to sit on the bed, obediently waiting for him to do something, anything, please. Kneeling on the bed, cat ears pinned to your head, a fluffy tail on a satiny smooth belt. The more he imagined the idea, the more he could see why you loved it so much. And luckily for him, you were meant to be out of the house for at least another three hours. Dark practically bolts off his chair— odd behavior for him— and runs to the bedroom, pieces of his suit and under layers creating a small, grey pile next to the bed. He put on the ears in the mirror, gently clipping then into place and trying to find that one pair of garters that had stretched in the wash. Extra tights from a costume party, a nighty that you had accidentally washed wrong, and a tail later, he was kneeling on the bed, keening softly. A sight to make devil anon proud (and probably horny). He was so focused on his internal fantasy, keeping still for his hypothetical master, that he didn't hear the door open and your footsteps coming up the stairs. You open the door and Dark freezes nervously, staring with wide eyes at the door.

"I can explain... I swear."

You're confused, both as to why he's doing this and why whatever this is flipped a little internal switch and had you raising your eyebrow. "Yeah... Kitten?" The nickname was added tentatively, almost entirely playful. After all, if he was alright, you might have to tease him about this a bit.

"I wanted to know what it was like. In your position. I can uh... I can see the appeal."

It was hard to take him seriously in (mismatched) lingerie, cat ears, and lingerie, and did you mention lingerie??

"Do you want me to do anything about that?"

"Please"

— scrunchie in a hat

[lesbian-peanut-writer]

Fantasy to Reality

Day 3 of Kinktober is here and I’m ready to get this baby out for all of you. I got really carried away with this one and before I knew it, I was really invested in this story. Now, I gave a little twist to this story and it’s one that I’m not sure I made the right choice on... Please don’t get made with me for making Kirishima transgender. I don’t really want to cop any flack for the choice I made, I just want people to enjoy the story. Any hate I get for this story or the choices I made in it will probably result in me not continuing with Kinktober. 

Well, I hope you can all enjoy the story without finding the need to tear it or me apart.

~Lesbian Peanut

Word Count: 5187

Being a Police Officer was stressful at the best of times, at least that’s the opinion Katsuki had about being one. There were moments in his career where the job was worth it and the outcomes were rewarding, but there were days where he just wanted to go home. The amount of shit he had to put up with on a daily basis while he was out on patrol was utterly frustrating and he was surprised he hadn’t lost his job before now. He probably had his partner to thank for that one though, the fact Eijiro made sure to keep his temper in check whenever he was about to lose it was probably the only reason, he was still an Officer.

Katsuki blinked and stopped when he realised his partner had gone silent and disappeared from his side. Turning on the spot he looked back along the length of the mall and raised an eyebrow as he caught sight of Eijiro stopped dead in front of a store. He stalked back towards the other man slowly, stepping up behind him and looking up at whatever it was that had caught Eijiro’s attention. Katsuki’s eyebrow shot up as he saw the lingerie that was being shown off in the window of the small store. He stepped to the side partially, peering at Eijiro as he took in the look of love and longing on his features.

“See something you like in there, babe?” Katsuki murmured as he stepped in closer to Eijiro, pressing his chest against his back as he placed a hand on his hip. “Are you trying to imagine what you would look like in those things?” He teased as he rubbed his hand over Eijiro’s hip.

Eijiro flushed crimson as he dipped his head down and sucked on his bottom lip, gnawing on it with his teeth. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

Katsuki smirked as he leaned in closer, pressing his lips against Eijiro’s ear before flicking his tongue against it. “No… it’s not a bad idea at all but I can tell you what you’d look like.” He whispered huskily as he pressed into him more. “Those elegant black lace panties would hug your arse in all the right ways, defining the voluptuous curve of it perfectly as you walk. You’d have to get those crotchless panties of course, that way they can frame that beautiful pussy of yours and show it off to the world.” Katsuki heard the sharp intake of breath from Eijiro as he described what he imagined he would look like. “The garter belt would look great on you too, those silky straps running down along your immaculate thighs before connecting to stockings. Don’t even get me started on those fishnet stockings. Those would hug your calves; you’d be lucky to get them on without ripping them and even once they’re on; they would be strangling your thighs.”

Eijiro shuddered as he leaned back into Katsuki, his eyes closed as he attempted to picture everything Katsuki was describing to him in detail. “Would that be something you would like to see, babe?”

“Me?” Katsuki clicked his tongue as he moved a hand from Eijiro’s hip around to his stomach and nipped at his ear. “You want to know what I’d do to you… I’d make you parade around for me before ordering you to sit between my legs, have you suck my dick until I come in your mouth. After that, I’d fuck the ever-loving fuck out of your throat until you’re begging me to stop.” He said calmly, his voice steady as he told Eijiro exactly what he’d do. “Once you’re done swallowing my load and you will swallow it all without spilling a drop. I’d sit back on the bed and watch you ride yourself crazy on my dick.” Katsuki shifted his hand under Eijiro’s shirt before dipping it down the front of his pants, “If you’re still sane after riding my dick, I’d lay you out on the bed and fuck you into the mattress. Fuck you until you’re screaming my name, until your throat is sore and your legs feel like jelly. When the high wears off and we’re both satiated, I’d take good care of you and clean you up myself.”

Eijiro’s brain had ceased function, it was full of so many images and his body was beginning to react to the words Katsuki was saying; his hand in his pants wasn’t helping either. He chewed on his bottom lip feverishly as he pressed back into Katsuki, his pussy clenching uncontrollably at the thought of being fucked into the mattress. He gasped, catching himself before he could fall as Katsuki stepped back away from him and spun on the spot to look over at his partner. His heart stuttered as he saw the wicked smirk that had taken residence on his face and a sense of doom washed over him.

“W-what is it?” Eijiro stammered as he stepped in closer to Katsuki.

“You know, I’d never actually force you to wear that shit… If you want to, go ahead and do it. I’m not about to stop you from trying things, Ei.” Katsuki stated as he leaned in close and looked straight into Eijiro’s eyes. “Say the words and I’ll get you some, if you’re comfortable with it; I’ll turn that little fantasy of ours into a reality.”

Eijiro’s brain was back in meltdown as he took in the words that Katsuki was vomiting at him. It was no secret that Katsuki had always had Eijiro’s back and supported him through everything. Telling Katsuki that he was transgender had been the hardest thing to do, but he had managed that and Katsuki’s love for him never faltered. He had always liked the way lingerie looked; he just wasn’t sure whether Katsuki would be into it; a fear that was apparently unfounded.

“Oi, you have all damn day to think about this alright? For now, we need to get back to our job before the chief finds out.” Katsuki’s voice cut through Eijiro’s thoughts and he had to shake them loose.

“Right, let’s get back to work!” Eijiro declared as he raised his fist into the air in a determined manner.

“Katsuki smirked as he watched his partner march off down the mall, flicking his eyes over to the small lingerie store one last time before following after him.

~

Katsuki groaned as he pushed open the heavy wooden door to his house, stepping into the hallway before kicking off his boots. He was quiet as he took his jacket and hung it on the hook next to the door. He smirked as he picked up the small black bag next to his feet and padded off through the house. Katsuki had eventually found Eijiro’s note tucked away on his desk and had of course taken it upon himself to oblige the request.

“Oi, shit head.” Katsuki called out as he walked into the bedroom, launching the bag across the small space between the door and the bed; watching as it landed squarely in Eijiro’s lap on the bed.

Eijiro jolted back to attention, the sudden disturbance pulling him from his deep thoughts and back to reality. He looked down at the black bag in his lap before turning his head to look over at Katsuki in the doorway. “Is this what I think it is?” He asked inquisitively.

“My answer to that question would depend upon what you think is in that bag.” Katsuki quipped as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants. His shirt followed suit as he pulled it up over his head and tossed it behind him to the ground.

Eijiro watched as Katsuki stripped down just inside the door, his clothes becoming piled up near the wardrobe. It dawned on him steadily as to what Katsuki was doing and a sudden rush shot through his body. Eijiro leapt up off the bed and bolted into the bathroom, the little black bag clutched tight in his hands as he shut the door behind him. He couldn’t wait to be able to show off to Katsuki, though he was a little worried about what he had bought for him.

Katsuki chuckled as he finished stripping down, moving across the room to sit on the beanbag they had tucked away in the corner. He sighed heavily as he sat down, his eyes instantly shifting to the bathroom door and his hands came to rest over his stomach. The thick piece of leather clasped in his hand was something extra that he planned to give Eijiro once he was dressed. He couldn’t wait to see what his partner would look like in the lingerie he had picked out for him; he could imagine but he knew it would be nothing next to the real thing. Katsuki was sitting precariously on the beanbag as he waited, his eyes never once leaving the door.

“I-I’m done…” Eijiro stuttered as he clipped the strap from the garter belt down to the stocking, a shy smile pulling at his lips as he tried to check himself out.

“Get out here and show me then!”

Eijiro’s heart was pounding, it felt as though it was going to tear itself right out of his chest if it beat any faster. He spun on the spot and moved towards the bathroom door; he had almost forgotten about everything Katsuki had said to him earlier in the day. He opened the door slowly, stepping out into the main room and his eyes instantly locked with Katsuki’s from across the room. The smile that spread over his partner’s face was breath-taking and he smiled as he gave a spin for the man. Eijiro could feel Katsuki watching his every move as he posed for him and showed off the way the lingerie fit him.

“Come here you.” Katsuki’s voice was husky as he called Eijiro over to him and he smirked as he sat back into the beanbag and spread his legs, pointing down to the space between his legs.

Katsuki was glad he had chosen this set of lingerie for Eijiro, the store attendant had been helpful while he was picking it out. He was glad she had talked him out of getting the red, the black suited Eijiro more than he could have ever imagined. Eijiro already had a peach butt, these panties just lifted it up even more in a way Katsuki hadn’t thought possible. He was right about the stockings though, glad he switched for the thin lace in place of the fishnet. They were hugging his calves, defining the muscles perfectly while the tops of them were trying desperately to strangle the life out of his thighs.

Eijiro’s quick movement snapped Katsuki out of his observation of his partner, chuckling to himself as the other man practically launched himself across the room and landed between his legs before peering up at him. He watched as locks of red hair fell down in front of equally red eyes and Katsuki couldn’t help but to tangle his hands into those soft locks. He smirked as he pulled Eijiro’s head up closer to his crotch, the red-head’s lips parting to let a soft moan fall from them. Katsuki watched as Eijiro’s eyes fluttered shut and he took this opportunity to make his move. He leaned forwards slowly, his fingers working deftly on the buckle in his hand as he brought the leather choker up around Eijiro’s neck.

Eijiro’s eyes snapped open as he felt the leather touch his skin, realisation sinking in as the sound of the buckle being done reached his ears. He lifted a hand up to his throat, cold metal sat against his skin and heat rose through his cheeks. “You collared me…”

Katsuki hummed in response to Eijiro’s observation, hooking a finger into the metal hoop at the front of the choker and pulling on it roughly. “Now, be a good boy and get sucking.” He ordered as he pulled Eijiro’s head forwards, smirking when his lips touched the head of his dick.

Eijiro gasped as he moved his hands quickly, gripping Katsuki’s thighs to steady himself as he looked down at his dick. He was already hard, Katsuki must have been thinking about this the entire drive home to be this hard already. Eijiro could see beads of pre-cum forming before rolling down the length of his dick, his pussy clenching at the thought of having that dick inside of him. “You’re so hard already, have you been thinking about me?” Eijiro teased as he flicked his tongue out, swirling it over the head and gathering the new beads of cum.

“Fuck… yeah I was, the moment I bought this fucking lingerie I couldn’t stop envisioning you in it.” Katsuki admitted as he kept his finger hooked on Eijiro’s choker. “Got a problem with that?”

Eijiro shook his head as he licked along the length of Katsuki’s dick, moving a hand to fondle his balls. “No, I can’t really talk either.”

“Ohoho? What did you do?” Katsuki smirked as he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side out of curiosity.

Eijiro flushed dark as he flicked his eyes down, choosing to focus on the task before him as he spoke. “If I had my way, I’d skip this bit and go straight to the fucking me into the mattress bit of tonight.” He admitted as his lips brushed over the head of Katsuki’s dick.

“What a naughty partner I have. I bet you’ve probably been thinking about that all day, haven’t you? You probably snuck off at some stage to rub one out too.” Katsuki watched closely as Eijiro’s shoulders stiffened and his eyes popped wide, his face turning crimson. “Holy fuck…” Katsuki sat up more, pulling on Eijiro’s hair as he pulled his head back and looked down into his eyes. “You did… Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have helped you out with that, I’d have fucked you there and then if you’d have asked me to.”

“I couldn’t bear it.” Eijiro explained as he looked up into those vermillion eyes and pouted. “We were on duty and I did it during our lunch break, which you didn’t take by the way.”

“I’d have fucking taken it if you’d told me you were going to fuck yourself on your fingers during lunch.” Katsuki countered as he dipped his head and nipped along Eijiro’s jawline.

“Would you have actually helped me out though or just watched me? Besides, not sure people would have appreciated us doing that in a public bathroom.” He quipped back at Katsuki as he shuddered, leaning his head to the side to allow him more access.

“That’s never stopped us before. Final year of college, did we not fuck all the time in the bathroom. You don’t remember that time we were fucking and someone walked in? You wanted us to stop and wait, I kept fucking you right through their visit. You managed to keep quiet and you know you fucking enjoyed the risk that came with being caught.”

“Ok, shut up now!” Eijiro squeaked as he dug his nails into Katsuki’s thighs. “No need to bring up the past.”

Katsuki smirked wickedly as he lifted his head and pressed his nose against Eijiro’s. “Maybe tomorrow you should wear this to work, I’ll fuck you all the way through our lunch break and I’ll do it in the public bathroom if that’s what you want.”

Eijiro’s face felt as though it was on fire as he stared up at his partner, his brain having malfunctioned somewhere throughout that sentence. The squeaking sound that was coming from his throat wasn’t something he had control over and he was failing at pulling himself together. Katsuki’s laughter from above him was enough to pull him back, his eyes focusing on Katsuki’s lips before he bowed his head and his lips pressed against Eijiro’s. He relaxed into the kiss, allowing himself to give into his partner’s desires.

Katsuki pulled his head back, licking his lips as he watched Eijiro come back to his senses. “You still want to skip this part then?”

“No, I’ll do this.” Eijiro whispered as he shifted his positioning, scooting in closer to Katsuki and the beanbag as he leaned in over his legs.

He watched as Eijiro gripped his thighs firmly, his fingers digging into his flesh as he took the head of Katsuki’s dick into his mouth. Katsuki shuddered and groaned low as he watched those plump lips wrap around his dick, sliding down along the length of it slowly. His fingers tightened in Eijiro’s hair as he pulled on it, a notion for him to take more of him into his mouth. He smiled as Eijiro obliged and took the length of Katsuki’s dick into his mouth, the head of his dick sliding down the back of his throat perfectly. God it felt good to be buried in the warmth of Eijiro’s mouth, his dick twitching at the thought of fucking his pretty little mouth.

Eijiro hummed low around Katsuki’s dick as he sucked firmly, bobbing his head along the length as he swirled his tongue around the girth as best, he could. He knew Katsuki wasn’t small, they had fucked before after all but the head jobs were far and few between and he felt a little out of practice. Katsuki’s groan from above was encouraging though, something that spurred Eijiro on as he moved his head faster. His hand shifted over Katsuki’s thigh, dipping between his legs and grabbing his balls as he fondled them.

Katsuki groaned low as he watched Eijiro’s head bob up and down, his movements fluent as he found a steady rhythm. His hips jerked up as he pulled on Eijiro’s hair, his fingers tangling deeper into his hair as he cursed. Eijiro’s fingers moved over his balls effortlessly, his thumb slipping up between his dick and balls and pressing down there. He cried out as he bucked his hips, releasing the choker and draping his arm over his face as he dropped his head back against the beanbag. Fuck, Ei hadn’t lost a single bit of his experience when it came to blow jobs and Katsuki was starting to consider letting him do them more often.

Fingers dipped down between his thighs as he sucked roughly on Katsuki’s dick and Eijiro moaned around him as he pressed his middle finger against his clitoris. He felt Katsuki shift above him as he rubbed at his clitoris, his head bobbing up and down faster as he stole a glance at his partner. Vermillion eyes locked with crimson and Eijiro’s cheeks flushed as his finger stilled between his thighs.

“Keep going, don’t stop.” Katsuki muttered huskily as he hooked one of his legs around Eijiro’s waist and pulled his body in closer. “You touching yourself while sucking my dick, fuck I wish I’d been able to see you touch yourself today.”

Eijiro’s eyes popped wide as he pulled his head back and tilted his head to the side. “I can let you watch me if that’s what you really want. I wouldn’t mind.”

“No, keep sucking my dick. You haven’t lost your touch; I should really let you do it more often.” Katsuki admitted as rose dusted his cheeks and he looked away from Eijiro.

Warmth filled Eijiro’s chest at hearing Katsuki’s words, he was doing a good job and Katsuki was enjoying himself. He dipped his head back down, the pre-cum was building on Katsuki’s dick and steadily streaming down his length. He moved, swirling his tongue up around his dick as he licked up all the escaped cum and swallowed it. Fingers tightened in his hair as he flicked his tongue over the slit of Katsuki’s dick, his eyes fluttering shut before he took him back into his mouth. It didn’t take Eijiro long to pick up his pace again, building the rhythm up fast as he sucked and slurped around Katsuki’s dick. He could feel the veins pulsing on his dick and the way his dick was twitching, he knew Katsuki wasn’t going to last much longer.

Eijiro sucked harder as he swirled his tongue around Katsuki’s dick, his hand moving relentlessly over his balls as he rubbed and squeezed them. He could feel Katsuki’s balls pulling tight in his hand, his thumb rubbing against that sweet spot between. He moaned as he rocked his own hips firmly, rubbing his finger over his clitoris in tight circles as he tried to seek his own release. Katsuki’s curses sounding from above and the way the muscles in his thighs bunched up, was the only warning Eijiro was getting.

Katsuki groaned and mumbled Eijiro’s name as he jerked his hips up, the head of his dick sliding down his throat. He tightened his hold in Eijiro’s hair, pulling hard and forcing the red-head to slide his head all the way down his dick. The muscles in his legs tightened and released as his balls drew up and his orgasm hit him, his seed pouring down Eijiro’s throat. Katsuki watched as Eijiro drank down his cum, swallowing as much as he could before he was tapping his thigh for air. He let his hips fall against the beanbag again as he released Eijiro’s hair. Eijiro was quick to pull back, laying back on the floor as he lifted his hips off the floor and Katsuki watched as his fingers worked relentlessly.

He watched as Eijiro’s fingers dipped into his soaked pussy, his other hand coming down to spread his folds so Katsuki could watch without hindrance. Katsuki groaned as he sat forwards on the beanbag, his eyes trained on the way Eijiro’s fingers were moving and where they were disappearing into his body. He gripped his dick in his hand firmly, stroking it roughly as he watched his partner fuck his fingers desperately. Katsuki wanted to help him out so badly, but he knew this was Eijiro’s way of making up for having rubbed one out without him during the day.

Eijiro’s hips stuttered as he thrust his fingers into his pussy roughly, curling them up and pressing them against his g-spot. He cried out in pleasure as he closed his eyes, he knew Katsuki would be enjoying the view from where he was sitting comfortably in the beanbag. He shifted his middle finger from his folds and pressed it to his clitoris, rubbing tight circles as he pushed his fingers harder. God how he wished this was Katsuki touching him right now, how he wished it was already time to be fucked into the mattress.

“Move your hand.” Katsuki’s voice sounded from above Eijiro and he snapped his eyes open.

Katsuki waited for Eijiro to shift his hands away from his pussy, his fingers visibly covered in slick as he lifted them up towards his chest. He smiled as he shifted in between Eijiro’s thighs, moving a hand down and thrusting three of his fingers into his aching pussy. Warmth enveloped his fingers as he thrust them roughly, curling his middle finger up and rubbing it over his g-spot. Eijiro’s cries of pleasure and the way his hips were jerking in response to Katsuki’s actions, was the perfect reaction. He pumped his fingers harder and faster as he shifted his thumb up to rub circles over Eijiro’s clitoris.

He smirked as he slipped a hand up over Eijiro’s stomach, heading towards his chest as he leaned in over his partner. Katsuki’s fingers kept up their relentless rhythm as his left hand explored his partner’s skin. He felt the raised skin of Eijiro’s scars just under his pectorals, scars Eijiro had taken time to come to love but little interactions like this were what had made it possible. Katsuki’s dick twitched as he played with Eijiro’s scars, smoothing his fingers over the raised skin before dipping his head down and kissing each one.

Eijiro moaned loudly, his hand shifting instantly to tangle into Katsuki’s short blonde hair and pulled on it roughly. He could feel Katsuki’s dick twitching back to life against his thigh as his fingers mercilessly fucked him. He rolled his hips up as he sought further pleasure and all he wanted was Katsuki’s dick inside of him. Eijiro gasped as Katsuki pulled his fingers out of his pussy, his walls clamping down in response to being empty and a whine fell from his lips.

“Patience…” Katsuki chortled as he sucked and bit his way over Eijiro’s chest, he wasn’t going to be able to wear a singlet any time soon.

Katsuki knew what Eijiro was seeking, the constant rolls of his hips were a dead giveaway. He shuffled in closer to Eijiro, thrusting his dick deep into his aching pussy as he bit down on his nipple. Eijiro cried out as his dick filled his pussy, his back arching up off the floor and he pulled on Katsuki’s hair. The blonde chuckled as he moved his hips quick, thrusting into the red-head at a relentless pace. He dropped his hands down to his hips and lifted them up as he pounded Eijiro’s pussy, the head of his dick pushing further into his heat.

Eijiro’s stomach was in knots as pleasure built rapidly, his head falling back as he let his mouth hang open and moans poured from it like water. It felt so good to have Katsuki inside of him, fucking him like he promised he would do; though he knew Katsuki could do better than this. Pressure coiled tight in the pit of his stomach, the pleasure building as Eijiro reached his climax. Eijiro screamed out Katsuki’s name as he thrust his hips particularly hard, his dick hitting against his cervix and pushing him over the edge. His orgasm rocked his body as his legs tensed up and his hips shook, his walls clamping down around Katsuki’s dick as he stilled within Eijiro.

Katsuki sat patiently as Eijiro caught his breath, a wicked smirk pulling at his lips as he pulled his hips back slowly. The pitiful whimper that left Eijiro’s lips was delightful and it only served as fuel to Katsuki’s raging fire. “Now, my turn.” Katsuki stood up and pointed to his dick, he wanted to fuck Eijiro’s throat raw.

~

After being throat fucked to the point where he had been left gasping for air and a ride that had left his mind reeling from the experience; Katsuki kept his earlier promise. Eijiro hadn’t been expecting it, he was still in the process of coming down from his orgasm when Katsuki had pulled out of him and threw his body all the way up the bed. He had landed with his head buried between the pillows, his arse up in the air and he tried quickly to right his positioning. Eijiro didn’t get the chance though, Katsuki was as quick as always and a cry of pleasure was ripped from Eijiro’s throat as he drove his dick home.

“You didn’t think I’d forgotten about this part did you, Ei?” Katsuki’s voice rasped as he thrust his hips roughly, his hands coming down to land on Eijiro’s arse with a satisfying crack.

Eijiro moaned as his body was rocked back and forth, each powerful thrust of Katsuki’s hips causing the head of his dick to press against his cervix. He whimpered as Katsuki slapped his hand against his thigh, a stinging sensation left in its wake. His mind was fogged as he allowed the pleasure to overcome his body. Eijiro had already lost count of how many times he had screamed Katsuki’s name and he was barely able to register the fact he was still saying it now. His breath caught in his throat as Katsuki fisted his hair, pulling his head back as he lifted him upright and continued with his relentless thrusts.

“You look so fucked out right now, Ei. Are you even still in there, babe?” Katsuki murmured as he nipped and sucked along the side of Eijiro’s neck.

“B-barely…” He whispered breathlessly as he looked back at Katsuki through hazed eyes.

Katsuki chuckled as he moved his arm up and under Eijiro’s arms, holding him close to his chest as he thrust up into him harder. He could tell that Eijiro was about at his limit and honestly, he was too. He groaned as Eijiro’s walls clamped down around his dick firmly, a sign that it was going to be easy to make him cum this time. Katsuki smiled as he planted kisses along Eijiro’s neck, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion began to grip him. He groaned low as he pressed forward with Eijiro, their bodies hitting the headboard and he used that to keep them upright. Katsuki knew this wasn’t the fucking into the mattress that Eijiro wanted but he highly doubted that either of them had the stamina left to do that now; he’d just owe him another day.

Incoherent mumblings fell from Eijiro’s lips as he leaned heavily into the headboard, closing his eyes as his consciousness started to fade. The pleasure was building up in his body and he knew this last orgasm was going to sap him of what little energy he had left. He moaned as he rocked his hips back towards Katsuki, meeting his thrusts as they became less rhythmic and more sporadic. Eijiro whined as he hung his head, his legs going weak beneath him as his body began to give out on him.

“I got you babe, I got you.” Katsuki reassured as he thrust his hips harder, grunting with the effort as his dick throbbed and he neared his release.

Eijiro mumbled something incoherent before crying out as his walls clamped down around Katsuki’s dick, his orgasm rocking his body and causing his mind to go completely blank. His body shook uncontrollably, his legs collapsing under him as Katsuki thrust his hips roughly before stilling. Katsuki’s groan was the only thing Eijiro could make out as he came, his seed flowing into Eijiro as he held him tight.

It took a few minutes for Eijiro to regain his bearings, his mind foggy as he looked around the room momentarily. He blinked as his eyes landed on Katsuki’s head where it was resting against his stomach, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he saw how peaceful his partner looked. He shifted his hand slowly, combing his fingers through those familiar blonde locks.

“Are you ready to get cleaned up?” Katsuki’s voice cut through the silence of the room as he looked up at Eijiro, lifting himself up onto his elbows.

Eijiro hummed in response, watching as Katsuki slid off the bed, standing beside it before stretching out fully. “You’re going to have to carry me though.”

“Yeah, figured.” Katsuki chuckled as he bent down, hooking his arms under Eijiro’s body before lifting him up against his chest. “Now, let me care for you.”

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Hotsy Totsy Pt. 3 (T.C.)

ahhh the last bit of prewritten work!! thank GOD. reworking my own writing from a few years ago was killing me slowly (who tf let me write). next update will be all fresh 😎 hope you enjoyyyyy. things heating up quickly!

(sexual references)

“Man, this is… crazy,” Nick said, shaking his head. He held his tongue for a moment, his brow furrowed. He knew Timothée was already grasping desperately for something that appeared to be just out of his reach, so he needed to phrase his words carefully. “Look, Tim… she’s a married woman-”

“You think I don’t know that?” he retorted, a wild, grief-stricken look in his eyes. He fell into the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he shouldn’t be frustrated with his friend; it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know the full story.

Nick looked at him expectantly, sitting down on the edge of his bed; he sensed this was going to be a late night.

“We met at an audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the college.” Timothée stared at his hands and fidgeted a bit. “She was auditioning for Hermia and I for Lysander, as fate would have it. The connection was instant. Every moment after only confirmed what I’d known the moment I’d met her.” A sad smile graced his lips, melancholic memories of hushed conversations had backstage and through rehearsals. You glowed with life and vigor and enthusiasm; he was snared from day one. “Things quickly grew serious, and I planned to ask her to marry me. But then the draft order came.” His eyes were dark and his hands trembled a bit as he remembered the atrocities of war and the nightmares that still plagued him. He carried on, telling Nick about the day he saw your marriage announcement in the paper and how he, to this day, still believed he was in your heart, that if he could become affluent like her family he would be able to steal you away again. By the time he’d finished his sorry, he had slid to the floor, his back slumped against the door jam. “Before I left, she had promised me she was going to wait for me to return. We’d had our life together planned and names picked out for our future children; I had no reason not to believe her. A couple months at camp turned into two years, and I never heard a word from her. I think I knew then, but I refused to believe it. I kept her on my mind until it became a habit, a coping mechanism, still writing to her every moment I could.”

Nick listened intently to every word, learning every piece of his best friend’s life that had somehow been going on behind the scenes that he hadn’t caught on to; it sickened him a bit. How had he not seen the pain Timothée had been suffering this whole time?

Despite the tragic backstory, he wasn’t sure he could go along with his plan. Married is married. He’d been raised in a home with strong religious values and, though times were changing, he felt he shouldn’t act as an accessory to the two lovers finding their way back to each other.

Seeing his apprehension, Timothée spoke up again. “She doesn’t love him,” he stated earnestly. “She did what she had to so she could get the life she wanted, but she doesn’t love him.”

“How can you be sure?” Nick pressed.

Timothée paused, his eyes closing as if in prayer. “I just… know. I can feel it in my bones.”

Nick looked down at the floor, mulling it over in his mind for a few moments. He couldn’t find it in him to tell him no. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

***

Jordan sat on the vanity as you got dressed for the evening. You wore a rosy-pink, silk shift dress that came down to about mid-thigh with fringe along the hem. Your garters were nearly completely exposed, holding up your black fishnet stockings. You sat down in the chair in front of her, slipping on you Mary Janes and fiddling with the buckles.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she noticed, pulling the cigarette from between her lips and exhaling swirls of smoke as she spoke.

“Just thinkin’” you replied with a shrug, getting up to pick out some jewelry from the many ornate boxes perched on a shelf inside the armoire. Truth was you’d been off ever since your conversation with Nick the night before.

“That’s dangerous,” Jordan chuckled, slipping off of the desk and striding over to peer over your shoulder. She was in a much more revealing outfit for her performance that evening; a gold, glittering, bedazzled leotard with triangle cutouts right at her waist, thigh high stockings, and a black velvet choker resting against her throat that completed her ensemble.

“You figure he’s gonna be here tonight?”

You huffed, wanting to ignore her as you tried to pick out a set of pearls. “I dunno.”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “What's going on in that pretty head of yours, doll? And don’t say it’s nothing because you know I’m gonna keep buggin’ until you give it up, so you might as well just start,” she chided.

“I just-” you began, clearly flustered. “I’m going through some personal things, okay?”

Jordan went a bit wide-eyed at your snappy reply. “Fine, fine,” she submitted.

You looked at yourself in the mirror as you adjusted the layered pearls that laid against your chest. Would he be there tonight? Noticeable circles were under your eyes, and you looked less than yourself. You patted on a bit more powder, adding some body glitter here and there.

“I’m sorry, J,” you sighed, shaking your head a bit. You turned to see her as she headed toward the door. “I’m just a little tense is all tonight. I’ll be fine soon.”

“I know you will, doll,” she smiled reassuringly, slipping out of your dressing room.

As she stepped out, the door to the manager's office at the end of the long, narrow hall cracked open. Lola, a new fan dancer from Chicago, came slinking out looking blatantly disheveled, red lips smeared and mascara lines down her cheeks. Jordan’s brow drew together as she tried to get a better look. She stepped behind a stage prop, her back to it and her neck craned to watch as the girl scurried away. Before the door closed completely, Jordan caught a glimpse of James sitting on his desk shirtless and his trousers hanging loose.

She quickly stood, ready to storm in there and demand an explanation, but that’s when she saw you standing in front of your dressing room looking shell-shocked. Your entire body was tense and your face white as a sheet. She hurried over to you, pulling you back into the dressing room and closing the door to avoid making a big scene. She had no idea what to say, her mouth open as she grasped for words.

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered, your eyes wide and quickly welling up with tears. The fear coiled in your stomach tightened around your guts, your subconscious hissing cruel “I told you so”s. You shook your head almost violently, expelling them. Short gasps left your parted lips as your chest refused to let your lungs expand.

“Y/N, you need to breathe, love. Come on, in and out,” Jordan quaked, gripping your hands tightly in her own.

You watched her with your eyes that burned from unshed tears, shakily following her breathing she modeled for you. Your chest heaved, and your mind fought hard to clear itself from all the horrible conclusions the other part of you wanted to jump to.

Eventually, she managed to calm you down, but your hands continued to tremble. Jordan looked over you worriedly, feeling like she didn’t know what to do for the first time in awhile.

“I’m- I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” you shuddered, pulling away to clean yourself up in the mirror.

Jordan sat looking a bit dumbfounded. “What?” she asked, unsure she’d heard you correctly.

“I’m sure it wasn’t what it looked like.” Even you could hear the slightly hysterical edge to your voice.

“Y/N-“

“No,” you interrupted in a clipped tone. “This will never leave this room.”

While a woman confronting her husband wasn’t something that happened then, Jordan had never had any of it. She also never had believed you to be a woman to be pushed around, and normally you weren’t. Your lifestyle wasn’t one of a typical domestic wife, and, being an educated woman, you’d taken your fair share of guff from conservative men. Yet, you’d never been one for confrontation, especially in your current emotional state.

Jordan shook her head in disbelief. “Y/N, he has no excuse for-”

“If you are my friend,” you choked, “you will pretend nothing happened.” Your voice was broken, but unyielding.

Her face softened slightly, and she stepped back, her hand on the doorknob as she shook her head. “You are upset and don’t know what you’re saying. I’ll see you after the show,” she replied, leaving and closing the door gently behind her.

Nausea washed over you and you bolted for the bin, the contents of your stomach evacuating unceremoniously. Your whole body heaved as you were sick repeatedly, the brief glimpse of your disarranged husband playing over and over in your mind. Denial was a hell of a drug, but your body was beginning to reject it. A quick knock at your door informed you that you were expected on stage in ten. You quickly began to clean yourself up, knowing that once you left that room, you were Daisy: the beautiful, the talented, the flawless. Hotsy Totsy would never know you as anything different if you had any say.

***

“I need a drink,” Nick grunted, hoisting himself from the desk chair he’d been sitting for the past hour, writing intensively.

Timothée hung his coat up on the hook and dropped his briefcase carelessly, just glad to be home. “I’ll pull something down,” he replied, heading over to the liquor cabinet.

“No, no, Tim. Don’t be a bluenose. I want to go out. I could go put in word with Cousin...” He raised his brows, knowing how to convince Timothée into doing what he wanted tonight.

He turned to him disdainfully. “Nick, I’m pretty tired. I don’t think I can handle that all tonight..”

“We are going. Go get dressed,” he insisted, grabbing Timothée by the shoulders and turning him to go upstairs to change.

He huffed but complied anyways. Subconsciously, he was eager to see you again, no matter how many nerves and feelings it stirred up inside of him. He changed into more casual wear: slacks, a white button up cuffed up to his elbows, and his favorite suspenders.He peered into the mirror, mussing his hair a bit before hurrying downstairs.

Nick was in similar attire, but with a striped shirt and a bowtie. “You ready, man?” he asked, slapping a newsboy cap on his head.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go before I change my mind,” he chuckled.

***

The high-end club was busy and bustling as always that Friday night. Cigarette smoke plumes hung heavy in the hot air, and every person had the Devil’s brew gripped tightly in their fists. A swing group played on the stage while a small group danced the Charleston below them. Timothée couldn’t help but smile as they came in: it really was soothing to his soul to be in such a carefree setting filled with so much life.

As the band’s song came to a close, an announcer came bouncing out and up to the mic. “Ladies and gents, please put your hands together for the lovely and exotic Ladies of Godiva!”

A flock of feathers came shuffling out onto the stage, three pairs of feminine legs peeking from below the large fans. The band began to play a soft and slow ballad beat. One by one, the women began to reveal themselves from behind their ivory plumes, but only in teasing glimpses that fell in time with the music. Eventually, three, jaw-dropping, dark haired women stood on the stage. Their fans were discarded to the floor to reveal bejewelled, scanty bodysuits and long, stocking-covered legs. They all huddled around the microphone and hummed sweet harmonies along with the saxophones and trumpets. Both Timothée and Nick, and every other man in the joint, were held captive. However, it was Nick who was truly in awe. In fact, he was particularly enamored as he took in the sight of the daring girl he’d met a few days before looking absolutely sinful on stage.

Timothée caught him gaping and planted his elbow between his ribs with a smirk. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, dude,” he snickered, leading him over to the bar.

Meanwhile, you stood backstage listening to Jordan and her girls, feeling guilty for snapping at her earlier. James brushed by you, catching your hand and giving you a wink on his way by, on his way to do god knows what with god knows who. He didn’t even notice when your hand quickly pulled out of his as though it were a hot flame. You wanted everything to be okay, but it was still too fresh in your brain. Before you knew it, Jordan was brushing past you with the other girls, giving you a soft smile. You smiled back, feeling a bit of relief that she wasn’t too upset with you for your outburst.

“Next up, our Lady of the Night: Miss Daisy!”

You quickly slipped into your role, a pout on your lips as you strutted on stage. The feeling of hungry eyes didn’t even phase you anymore. However, your heartbeat quickened slightly as you imagined one certain pair of eyes. You pushed that to the back of your mind and focused on the feelings bubbling in your chest. A thought came to you suddenly, and you turned on your heel to bend down to whisper into the drummer’s ear. He then, in turn, murmured down to the rest of the band while you returned to the mic. “Good evening, how is everyone doing so far? Everyone have a drink?” Your voice was low and sexy, the crowd curled into the palm of your hand as they cheered and whistled for you. “Well, I have a little something special I think you all are gonna like tonight alright?” You looked to the drummer, and he gave you a nod of confirmation that you returned.

Timothée leaned against a wall in a more secluded part of the club, eating up the swagger that poured off of you. His imaginings of what you’d become after all those years had far from given you justice. You were not at all shy; you never had been, but seeing you right where you had told him you wanted to be made him bubble with contagious pride. His eyes widened when you growled out the first note over the nearly silent club. Once everyone recognized the tune, cheers and hollars joined your voice, many girls hopping up and pulling their dates over to dance. All he could see was you.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog snoopin’ round the door..” Your body rocked to the percussive beat, your face scrunched up in emotion. “You told me you was high class, but I can see through that..”

You dug up the rage bubbling in you and growled it into the microphone, feeding off of the audience’s shouts and howls. Your hips snapped to the beat as you danced and sang your heart out.

Timothée watched you with a nearly predatory gaze. Hunger bubbled up in him; he was greedy and desperately wanted to pull you away from all the lustful men in the audience to be his and his alone. He wanted to feel you up against him again like the many escapades you two had had in college.

Your last note rang out over the crowd of cheers and catcalls, your chest heaving from not only the exertion of your performance, but also the emotions rushing around your mind. You stayed in character despite it all, but found your eyes searching the audience.

Suddenly, there he was, his eyes already on yours.

Timothée was deafened by his heartbeat in his ears as his eyes met yours. Somehow, he managed a small smile.

You quickly came to, realizing you were staring on stage. Your eyes flitted away, but you were clearly distracted as you waved and slipped off stage. You easily let Jordan pull you out and down the stairs and into the alley outside to get a little break. Everything felt like a blur.

Nick, who had been mingling around the club, watched as you two bolted outside; he knew this was his opportunity. He looked around for Timothée but couldn’t seem to spot him. He figured he was probably drinking somewhere and headed the direction you had left, weaving between the dancing bodies. He was met with a big man in a bowler hat blocking his path.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going punk?” he questioned, his thick New York accent making him almost unintelligible.

“My name is Nick Carraway. I’m a cousin of Y/N’s, Miss Daisy,” he explained, trying not to cringe at the brute’s horrid smell.

After a moment of contemplation, he stepped aside. “You best keep your hands off the ladies or I’ll bash your little head in, ya hear me?”

Nick nodded quickly, hurrying past him and out into the alley. Girls in skimpy feathers, jewels, velvet, and silk stood about in little groups, gossiping and sucking on cigarettes or cocktails. It was a lot of the young bachelor to have to take in, but eventually he spotted you. Girls shot him dirty looks and muttered things from “whatcha you lookin’ for? your ma?” and “who is this little peeping Tom!’ to “Hey, sugar. Wanna ride?” and many other crude things that made him blush hotly.

“Cousin Nicky? What are you doing back here?” you said, spotting the tall boy weaving through all the girls and looking incredibly uncomfortable. You heard Jordan laugh softly behind you, clearly amused by how flustered he was.

“Y/N! You were fantastic as always!” he smiled, giving you a small side hug. “You and Jordan were both uh, stunning! Yes, you were stunning.” He flushed, shaking his head as he stumbled over his words helplessly.

Both you and Jordan just laughed and thanked him. However, you could tell there was more to what he had to say.

“Anyways, Y/N. I wanted to ask you something, um, privately,” he stammered.

You gave Jordan a little look and she politely excused herself, brushing by Nick and making him blush again.

“Go ahead,” you ushered, curious as to what was so important.

“Well, I was hoping you’d join me for tea and luncheon tomorrow,” he said.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing a bit. Did he know? “And you needed to ask me this in confidentiality because..?”

“Oh well, I um, have a… male house guest currently. I wouldn’t want to start any sort of rumours or anything.” It was a lame cover up and you both knew it.

“Will this ‘house guest’ be joining us?” you asked, trying not to be too conspicuous.

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to just wait and see,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“Alright, Nicky. What time?”

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Begins

Part 11

Chapter Summary: Jensen and the reader deal with the aftermath of their night spent together. 

Word Count: 4.3K+

Warnings: Language, slightly dub-con kiss

Author’s Note: I’m so glad so many of you enjoyed their first little “get together”. Your words of encouragement make my day and I love reading each and every one of them!

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more work by yours truly!

The sun began to rise, its rays shining into the guest house at the perfect angle across her face. She nuzzled into the pillow now underneath her head, not wanting to get up just yet. As consciousness pulled at her to wake up, memories of the night and whose bed she was lying in came crashing back to her. She sat bolt upright in the bed, the sheet falling off of her naked body. Soft snores came from the other side of the bed. Jensen lay on his stomach, his arms folded underneath the pillow. She took a moment to take in his peaceful state. His long lashes rested against his freckled cheeks and his pink lips were slightly parted as he breathed evenly. 

She slipped out from under the covers and began picking up her discarded articles of clothing. Her plan was to relax for a few minutes before slipping back into the house so she could say goodbye and head home. Somewhere along the way, both of them had fallen asleep, and now she could only hope that after their late night, no one in the main house was up yet. 

Her mind was racing as she hastily redressed herself. Too many different thoughts sped through her head, her anxiety on high again. If her mind running wild wasn’t bad enough, it seemed her garter did not want to cooperate with her either. The clasps kept popping as soon as she moved on to the next one. Eventually, she gave up, deciding to just slip on her dress and call it a day. If she had to pretend like she slept in her costume, no one would question her looking disheveled. As she picked up her coat, her phone tumbled across the hardwood floor and making the loudest sound she would have imagined it could. She swore under her breath as a loud snort came from the snoozing man on the bed as he roused from his slumber. 

“Good morning.” His gruff voice called as he rolled over and rested his weight on his elbows. He only had one eye open and a small smile on his lips in his groggy state. She smiled back at him as she pulled on her shoes. 

“Good morning, I gotta run.” She hung her coat over her arm as she sprinted from the guest house. She ignored Jensen calling after her, she couldn’t face talking to him right now, not when she couldn’t even put together her thoughts for herself. Avoidance was her specialty after all. 

She crept up to the large sliding doors to the kitchen and peered inside. Genevieve was standing at the stove, her back to the window and Odette on her hip. She cursed to herself before rounding the house to the sliding door leading to Jared’s office. If Gen was up with the kids, then she could assume that Jared was still knocked out. She just hoped that his office door wasn’t locked. 

She was in luck, as she tugged on the handle, the door gave and she slipped inside. She grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and shook it out before refolding it and tossing it in a new position on the back of the couch. The little details mattered. If Jared found out where she spent the night, he would not be happy. Jared didn’t like the idea of her sleeping with any guy. Throw in that guy being his best friend, and nothing good would come of that. 

The door opening to Jared’s office caught Genevieve’s attention. She turned towards her sister-in-law, a huge smile on her face. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you stayed here last night.” Gen noted as she shifted Odette’s weight on her hip. 

“Yeah, after three glasses of whiskey, I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Y/n laughed, the noise sounding forced. Gen didn’t seem to notice though. 

“Well, I’m glad. Will you stay for breakfast?” Gen asked her as she turned down the pan she had bacon cooking in. 

“Um, I don’t think so. I really just want to take a shower and get into some comfy clothes. Thanks though.” 

“If you’re sure,” Gen turned more towards her, a frown on her face. Gen knew how much she loved having breakfast with her niece and nephews, so her turning down the opportunity was rare. 

“I’m sure. Love you guys.” She kissed Odette, blowing a tiny raspberry on her niece’s cheek before running off. Odette’s giggling was the last thing she heard as she shut the door behind her and ran for her car. She sped out of their driveway and headed towards her apartment. The whole time her mind was running wild. 

Y/n couldn’t decide where to start. She had woken up in bed naked... with Jensen? It wasn’t that she didn’t remember last night, it was more a question of how they had ended up there. Both of them had been a little inebriated, sure, but they both had also openly consented. Jensen had told her that he wanted it. Why though, she couldn’t figure out. She had been sure he only saw her as a little sister. What had changed? Was it their talk behind the guest house. He had confessed intimate things to her and was easily feeling vulnerable. Had she taken advantage of that? Her stomach churned at the thought, but it was the best explanation she could come up with considering he said that he doesn’t do one night stands. But what else could you classify last night as? Should they just chalk it up to one big mistake? It was easier for her to convince herself that it was a mistake. That was the easiest way for her to protect her heart from his inevitable rejection. 

That being said, it was a mistake that she would make again and again she told herself as she pulled up to her building. Last night had been the best night she’s had in a long time. Her whole being felt light this morning. The stress of the last few months that she carried on her shoulders was gone. Jensen had thoroughly fucked her last night. That much was evident from the ache between her legs. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had come that many times in one night, if ever. Her thighs squeezed together as more memories from last night came back to her. She held onto them, and committed them to memory. They were probably going to be the only ones she ever got. 

As she walked through her apartment, she began stripping her clothes, tossing them wherever she pleased. She started the shower before going over to brush her teeth. She ran a comb through her hair, tossing the fallen curls over her left shoulder when she noticed it. Right there, at the base of her neck on the right side, was a small red hickey. In going over all her memories, she hadn’t realized he had been forceful enough to leave a mark. Her fingers danced over the sensitive flesh, committing it to her memory too. She cursed herself for her naivety, hoping Gen hadn’t noticed it this morning. With Jensen being the only other single person at that party, there was no way she would be able to explain it away. 

With a deep breath, she jumped into the shower, letting the hot water run over her body. She took her time, washing everything and just enjoying the heat against her skin. The ghosts of Jensen’s hands on her body could be felt in the tender flesh of her hips and the scratches on her backside where her own hands traveled as she washed away last night. 

When she stepped out, her whole bathroom had become a steam room. She could no longer see anything in her bathroom mirror as she dried herself off and tossed her hair into a towel on top of her head. She made her way back into her bedroom, picking out comfy sweats and a sports bra to wear. 

As she walked out of her room, her stomach growled at her, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten. She was putting a bowl of oatmeal into the microwave when she heard her phone vibrating from its place on her coffee table. She pressed start and went to fish her phone from her coat pocket. She had some missed messages from friends wishing her a happy new year, but it was the two messages from Jensen that caught her attention.

We need to talk.

Please?

Her stomach sank as she read over the few words. She knew the ‘lets just be friends’ conversation was inevitable, but that didn’t make any of it easier. She guessed she could be thankful that he wanted to do it in person and not over text. It was the classier move.

As much as she tried to convince herself on the drive that it was all a mistake, she had failed. The rejection stung, no matter what she tried to tell herself. Still, she would get over it. She always did. Years of rejection had made her a pro at it. What was one more? 

The microwave beeped and she decided not to reply to him. They didn’t need to talk face to face, she didn’t think she could handle it. She had gotten the message loud and clear anyway. The two of them would go back to be whatever it was they were. Friends? Coworkers? She wasn’t sure exactly how to define their relationship, but she supposed it didn’t really matter. The show was over after this season, and they would never be forced to see one another again. Maybe he would be periodically around Jared at the same time she was, but they would not be forced to be alone together. 

She went back to grab her breakfast, pulling the towel from her hair so it could air dry the rest of the way. She plopped down on the couch and pulled up some random trash tv show to watch as she ate. Her phone buzzed another handful of times, but she chose to ignore it. Whoever or whatever it was, could wait until she could get her thoughts in order. When she finished her breakfast, she took the empty bowl to the sink. As she headed back to her living room, a knock sounded at her front door. 

With trepidation, as she had not been expecting company, she went to open the door. The last person she expected to see there was Jensen. Yet, there he was, his hair still damp from his own shower, a somber look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Her brows scrunched up as she stepped back to allow him inside. 

“You wouldn’t answer my texts.” He shrugged as his eyes scanned the inside of her apartment. 

“So you came to my apartment? How did you even know where I live?” She crossed her arms against her chest. Her hopes of having a peaceful day had been dashed. This was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now. 

“Uh,” Jensen rubbed the back of his knuckles across the stubble on his jaw. The memory of his beards scratch between her legs had her biting back a groan. “I asked Jared to borrow his phone. I told him mine was dead and I needed to check my email.” 

“Well, you really didn’t have to go to all that trouble just to reject me.” Her tone was sour but she couldn’t help it. Now that she was physically close to him again, it was like something went off inside her. Her whole body was calling out to him, just begging to be touched by his hands one last time, to feel his muscles rippling underneath her fingertips as he moved above her.

“What are you talking about, reject you?” Jensen was confused. Did she really think that he drove across town just to reject her?

“You said we should talk. I get it okay, we were both a little messed up and vulnerable last night, it was a mistake.” She spit out through gritted teeth. It physically pained her to say the words out loud.

“Is that really what you think? That last night was a mistake?” Jensen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Last night had been incredible, and even now, he longed to touch her again. 

“No, I don’t.” She admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that it should ever happen again. We lead different lives Jensen, not to mention the possible backlash from everyone we know.” Her mind was grasping for reasons that it wouldn’t work, because that was the only way she would be able to get over it when it did end. She turned and walked away from him, plopping down onto her couch. Jensen followed her, sitting on the edge, his body turned towards her.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since our last night in Vancouver.” Jensen admitted. “And last night… last night was amazing. I don’t think that is something that you just let go of.” He placed his hand on her knee, squeezing it so she would look up at him. “Y/n, you are this crazy, beautiful, insanely intelligent mystery that I just want to get to know better. Believe me when I say that last night wasn’t just about the sex, no matter how great it was. Let me take you out on a proper date this time, let’s do it right.” 

“Jensen,” She started, ready to tell him all the reasons she had come up with why it wouldn’t work, as much as she didn’t want to believe them. “What about Jared? As much as I love my brother, I don't think he would be too thrilled about this.” 

“We don’t even have to tell anyone, at least until we figure out what all this is. Just look me in the eyes and tell me it’s not something you want, and I’ll drop it. We go back to being friends and forget this ever happened.” He stared at her, intent on keeping her gaze. The intensity of his stare stirred up those butterflies inside her again, and she knew that she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him that she didn’t want to do it all again. She couldn’t tell him that all she had wanted since she ran from his room this morning was to crawl back into bed with him because they would all be lies. How could she say no to the man basically begging at her feet? It was like he said, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, and who knows, maybe they aren’t meant to be. What is life without taking a few risks, and she would be damned if she didn’t take this one. A small smile began to form on her lips as she held his gaze.

“Is that a yes?” His voice was wary as he stared at her. 

“It is Ackles, so you better make it worth my while.” He flashed her a toothy grin, his tongue peeking between his teeth.

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I never leave a woman disappointed.” 

****

A week went by without another word from Jensen. She saw him in passing when she was at Jared’s house to say one last goodbye to Gen and the kids. He didn’t say much to her, but he wasn’t avoiding her either. The whole concept of a secret relationship, if you could even call it a relationship, was foreign to her. She had no idea how to act when they were around other people. The lack of communication between them didn’t exactly help either. They were stuck in this weird limbo between a hook up and a ‘first date’ and neither of them knew what to do.

The thoughts in her brain where firing on overdrive every time he was near her that day. She was like a dog in heat, and the only thing on her mind was the way his muscles rippled under strain, or his breathy moans in her ear as he fucked her. On multiple occasions, Gen had to snap her out of her little trances. She would brush it off, telling them that she was just thinking about work. That then would only lead to everyone telling her that she worked too hard, which wasn’t a lie per se, it just wasn’t her current problem. 

Her excitement to be back in Vancouver only heightened as the week passed. It would give her the perfect opportunity to be distracted by something other than Jensen, at least that was what she hoped. 

She grabbed her bag from the security conveyor and followed after Jensen and Jared towards their gate. “I guess I’ll see you guys when we land.” She stopped outside the first class lounge, her stomach knotting up as she glanced towards her crowded gate. 

“Think again.” Jared grinned. 

“What are you talking about?” She had no clue what he was hinting at, but judging from the look on his face, he was up to something. Jared pointed to her hand that held her passport and boarding pass. 

“Take a look at your ticket.” She glared at him suspiciously before she scanned the boarding pass in her hand. Under the boarding class, it read ‘First Class’. 

“Jared, what did you do?” She sighed. 

“I upgraded your ticket.” He was all smug, not catching on to the tone in his sister’s voice. 

“Why? You know I don’t care about that crap.” 

“You don’t care about your seat, but I know how you feel about airports. It’s much quieter and less crowded in here and you deserve it.” He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her into the lounge, not allowing her to protest. There was a tv on one wall playing the local news station. On the opposite wall was a table with snacks and fresh coffee. Jared wasn’t wrong when he said she would feel better in the lounge. It had put her at ease just walking through the doors. 

“So, this is how the other half lives?” She teased as she chose a seat to rest in before boarding. 

“Get used to it. Before long, you’ll make more money than I do and you’ll be purchasing all the first class tickets your heart desires.” Jared admitted as he sat in the seat beside her. She shook her head at Jared’s antics. She didn’t want to admit to how much she was already enjoying his surprise. It made her a little guilty that he had done something so nice for her and here she was, hooking up with his best friend and hiding it all from him. Both her and Jensen had decided though, that until they could figure out whatever it was that was happening between them, it would stay just between them. What was the point in fighting with everyone if all of meant nothing in the end anyway? 

She sat back in her seat, watching the news as they waited to board. They were being called onto the plane shortly after they had arrived. She followed behind Jared and Jensen down the tarmac, their longer legs carrying them faster than she could go. Not to mention she was busy reading the seat number on her ticket as she walked, allowing a few people to slip in between the guys and her. To her surprise, as she came up to her seat, her neighbor was none other than Jensen. 

“Really? That’s convenient.” She met his smile as he stood up when he noticed her. He took her carry-on from her and lifted it into the overhead bin. 

“I promise I had nothing to do with it.” He closed the full compartment and stepped back so she could slip into the window seat. She set her purse down and buckled up as Jensen did the same. 

“Just lucky I guess.” She turned her head, looking around for her brother. He sat at a window seat on the other side of the plane, two rows back from them. He waved when she met his eye and she offered him a small wave back. 

“Think he can hear us?” Jensen’s voice was low as she settled into her seat. 

“I doubt it. He’ll probably have his headphones in any second anyway.” 

Jensen turned his head towards her, his voice low. “How have you been this week?” 

“Honestly? Weird. I don’t know how to do this, how to act. I’ve never had to hide from the people around me in that sort of way.” Her voice trailed off as the flight attendant came and asked if they wanted a drink. Both of them opted for a water. As soon as the attendant had handed them their drinks and was out of ear shot, Jensen spoke again. 

“I know what you mean. When I saw you at Jared’s, I had to fight the urge to kiss you on the spot.” His words had her breath catching. She cleared her throat and took a drink of the small water bottle in her lap. He had a smug grin on his face as she looked back at him. 

“You enjoy seeing me flustered don’t you?” She bit her lip as she tried to hide her own smile. The stern face she was attempting to convey was failing to come across properly.

“I do, especially when your cheeks flush pink like that,” He tipped his chin at her and she could feel her blush deepening. “Been thinking about about your flushed skin all week.” 

“Oh,” She looked away from him and crossed her legs. He chuckled lowly at his success as the plane took off. “You need to behave.” She pointed a stern finger at him. He put his hands up but she could still see the twinkle in his eye. Jensen didn’t understand the concept of behaving. If he kept it up, she would never make it through this flight. That little growl he had as his voice dropped went straight to her core, and she could feel the slick settling between her legs. 

All of his comments were giving her whiplash. He was more brazen after not talking for nearly a week than she was expecting. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, she just had no idea where they sat with each other, and him trying to rile her up in front of a plane full of people was just as confusing as it was arousing. The two of them had only slept together once, but it was almost like he knew her better than she knew herself. 

She made a show of taking out her headphones and putting them in her ears, letting him know that she was pointedly ignoring any further attempt he would have devised to get under her skin. The attendants brought by snacks and more drinks for them. Besides interacting with them, she was doing a good job of ignoring Jensen. After her second bottle of water though, she needed to use the restroom. 

She pulled out her headphones and unbuckled her belt. “Can I get up? I need to use the restroom.” She nudged his knee. 

“Oh, now you want to talk to me.” He undid his own seatbelt and stood up into the aisle. 

“I’ll talk to you as long as you can behave. Can you do that?” She paused before continuing. 

“No promises, but I’ll try.” He played. She nodded and headed to the small bathroom. The bathroom seemed to be more roomy than she was expecting, though still small. Just another stupid perk of first class. Jared was trying to spoil her, and she hated that it was working. She washed her hands and pulled on the door. The overhead light shut off and the light from the main cabin was blocked by a large figure in the opening. 

“Jay?” She had not been expecting him to be there, and was even more thrown when he pushed her back into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” The two of them were nearly chest to chest in the tight space. 

“Don’t worry, Jared is sleeping.” Jensen put his hands on her jaw, bringing her face up to his. Her body reacted to him of its own accord, closing the small space and opening her mouth to him. She could taste his cinnamon gum on his lips and smell his signature cologne. It all brought her back to New Year’s and she never wanted it to end.

“‘T’s not Jared I’m worried about.” Her words were breathy as she pulled away from him. “I’d rather not get arrested.” Jensen chuckled, pressing his lips back to hers. His tongue swiped across her lips and she granted him access. Their tongues moved together until her head was dizzy and her chest was heaving. 

“I just couldn’t wait to do that again.” He brushed his thumb across her swollen bottom lip. 

“Well now that you have it out of your system, can we go back to our seats before someone catches us?” Jensen nodded at her request.

“One last thing. Friday at nine, think you can slip out past your brother?” He grabbed the handle to the door, ready to walk out. 

“I’ll figure something out.” She agreed. Jensen pulled open the door, the light above them going out again. 

“Good, now go, I’ll be out in a minute.” He urged her out of the bathroom. She peeked her head out and made sure no one was paying attention before heading back to her seat. She sat down and buckled up, her lips still tingling from his touch and a soft smile on her face.

Part 12

Forevers: @spn-impala​​ @22sarah08​​ @turtlepad​​ @callmekda​​ @chaldei​​ @hobby27​​ @casualfestivaltrashpainter​ @cowboysnwinchesters​​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @pikabootoyouchu​​ @dawnie1988​​ @grease222​​ @frackinawesomeninja​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @polina-93​ @clarinette07​​ @moonlight-babeh​​ @suckerforfanfic​​ @witandnargles​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ 

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl​ @hillface89​ @arses21434​ @thevelvetseries​ @sslater34​ @mrsirishboru​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @encounterthepast​ @facadeformyrealblog  @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @heartinmyhead1​ @1d-killed-me​ @samsgirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @woodworthti666​ @supraveng​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @heartsaved @know2grow​ @littlewhiterose​ @surprisinglysarah​ @stoneyggirl​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @thebookisbtr​ 

Idk why Tumblr is a little bitch sometimes and will randomly stop letting me tag certain blogs, so if your URL has a line through it, blame Tumblr

[neargaztambide]

Nightmares Better than Memories

Summary: the twins, among their search for anomalies, find a chest in the middle of the forest. A chest, which is more than it appears

Words: 1.187, almost

Text made for the Stan Twins Celebration Month, idea from @thestanbros​ (week number three: ADVENTURE)

DISCLAIMER:  this story contains graphic descriptions of violence and torture. These still have their doubts about its veracity, although they are not completely ruled out. Discretion is advised.  

“Hey, Stan: have you seen this!” Ford called Stanley to see something he had found in the brush. The aforementioned went quickly, and visualized what his brother discovered: a large chest, sealed with silver clusters. “What it could be inside?” Ford asked with great curiosity towards him. In response, Stanley raised a crowbar, and said, “We won't know it until we open it.” Stan approached and without hesitation, began to forcing to open the chest. However, it seemed to be difficult to open it. -I-it's stuck. C’mon, gimme a hand.” Ford approached him, and they both pried. Little by little, they made that chest opening.

They didn’t notice it, but a black smoke began to spread between the opening of the crowbar and the lid. “C’mon, c’mon… just a bit” Both men had to use all their strength to open it, with a lot of difficulty. From one second to the next, the chest finally was open. The lid broke, falling heavily to the ground. The smoke, the menacing smoke shot up into the sky like fireworks. The crowbar fell because both brothers covered their ears when hearing such horrible screams. Heartrending screams of a thousand and one voices attacked their ears, horribly and without stopping. The smoke quickly became a small hurricane. The leaves, the trees, and everything in their vicinity began to swirl. They both felt their feet float, rise from the great storm they left...

There was a pouring rain in the middle of the forest, in the middle of the night. One of the twins, Ford, was awakened by the icy drops of water, and by a lightning bolt that was heard listening to many meters. The man, dizzy, got up. He thought he had been knocked unconscious by the smoke, and that hours had passed. “S-Stanley?” Ford called weakly to his brother. He tried to search through the dark to no avail. He was in a shallow pit of earth, and he climbed, removing the mud, straining. Scratching the wet earth and using his nails as he could. He reached the end, just to hear a cry for help: “Ford! Ford, where are ‘ya?!” The screams of his brother ignited the alarms of danger in his mind, causing him to run away and also, stumbling in the mud when he rummaged in his pocket for his Lantern. “Stanley! Don’t worry, resist just a while!”

The fear, the uncertainty, the constant escalation of stress when not finding his brother, but only weeds, but not his brother, get Stanford to the fullest fear, the fullest horror on his recent months of life. “Stan, talk to...!” A scream interrupted him. It came from behind. A man lunged at him, at which Stanford drew his pistol, and seeing that the man was armed, he didn’t hesitate to shoot. That guy was pushed back, the flash put up more light, along with the explosion of the gun. He fell heavily to the ground, and Stanford pointed the flashlight at the man... his soul, his sigh showed his utter horror: a man with blue eyes and recently emptied of life, a white, blond face, and clothes made of pressed wool, skins of different beasts and leather. And where in the world where they when they found the chest, what was the last place they decided to visit? Scotland. There was only one village who dressed like that, who were inhabitants of Scotland and northern Europe, the most vorpal people for their torture and sacrifices: the morbid Vikings.

“Stanley, you have to run away from ‘ere! RUN!” That's when despair finally possessed the older brother, running and searching. He was running and hurting himself with the branches of the trees, not caring about that: the only thing that interested him was protecting him, taking care of him, saving Stanley from whatever those monsters could do to him. After so much persecution, Ford heard, among all that, voices that spoke in an understandable language. “Stanley.” Ford went to that address. His flashlight stopped working in the pouring rain. His only guide was audition. He searched, he tried to see through his ears those strange voices that may be his brother's downfall, and yet, it may also be the means to save him. “Ford? Ford, please help...!” Something stilled his voice. That meant it could be serious. Ford tried to fight through the darkness. He was able to get there, hearing the voices more clearly. From among the trees, he could make out that there were a few bonfires, lights, which made the vision somewhat easier. Hidden among the trees, Ford saw Stan being dragged. He writhed as best he could, dirtying his bare chest and muddy arms. He was gagged by what Stanford thought was a piece of leather. The Vikings looked wild and menacing. Among one of them, one with deer horns appeared on his hood, and his face was hidden by its shadow. Ford saw that bonfires could more or less be protected by makeshift roofs made of leaves and leather. Stanley was raised by one of the Vikings. Lightning struck the ground, producing more light. Right there, something that that ray, maybe in a heavenly way, could show a body for a few seconds.

It was from a man. Tall and Stanford could see that the decomposition process was already taking effect in the abdomen and hip area, showing holes in putrefying meat. His face was not covered, so his eyes showed that if they were so open, it seemed that they were going to come out of their sockets. The rest of his features showed that he had died from lack of blood, due to his terrible paleness and other symptoms. Ford looked down after checking his hands, which were hanging from strong ropes. Between his back, there were two stretches of skin that spread like wings, attached also with ropes. Right in all the area of ​​the rachis, and among all that, already backlit, there were some lines, which must have been… the ribs. On the shoulders, the victim's lungs hung. The sacrifice to some pagan god -perhaps to Valravn, or to the Vættir, or to something else- was through such a visceral way of dying. The Vikings were going to do the same to him. The same horrible form of torture. Even some whispered a song that in Stanford's ears was almost diabolical because of the deep and broken voice.

[Concept Art from Hellblade: Senua´s Sacrifice]

He didn't think what he did: he acted the way the Vikings acted: like beasts. That's the instinct of a beast: threaten it, and it will rip your throat out. He pulled out his gun and started shooting at those monsters. He couldn't, he didn't want those savages to hurt him. He couldn't allow it. They saw it, just like Stan: the Northmen thought they were being attacked by a strange hermit who cast magic by his fingers. Ford quickly went to Stan, lifting him off the ground and protecting him at all costs.

Stan finally spat out the leather and warned his twin about the Vikings coming after them. One took the other to flee: they could not finish everyone without ending up seriously injured. They ran to flee. They were looking for a way out of that nightmare. The Northmen were chasing them, looking for them and shouting unintelligible things. It was all just confusing. “Ford, run, run!” “Don't leave me, do you understand?!” Ford continually hit his headlight to turn it on. He had an idea to run away: if the chest got them into that, the chest would also get them out.

The two of them hid behind some trees, causing the Vikings to finally lose sight of them. They crouched down to try to go unnoticed. “I'm fine. You?” Stan is completely unaware, since he lost his glasses and couldn’t see anything; just a blurred darkness. “I think we should go for the chest... it's the only thing that came to my...” Something came from the darkness... Stanley couldn't see it, but Ford did: it was a horse that walked calmly despite the pouring rain. “Ford, there’s somethin’? What’s that noise?” On top of the horse, there was a fatal figure by its black cape and its long cane. Ford didn't know who that guy was, until he turned his face toward them, making a star-like glow appear where the right eye has to appear. He, still looking at them, used his stick to point something towards his back. The two brothers stared at the mysterious apparition, who then looked ahead again, and his horse walked slowly. Stan felt something strange about that creature: it seemed to have more than four legs. Ford followed the figure until it disappeared into the darkness. “I think I know where we’ve to go...” whispered Stanford, helping to lift Stan up (he didn't need help, but he didn't want to part with him). They both headed in the direction the shadow pointed them. Behind them, something sounded: a wake-up call from one of the Northmen. “Oh, fuck!” Ford shouts and hurried to Stan. The Vikings trooped after them, yelling and almost beating them.

They crossed even more branches, almost stumbled through the mud; the relentless rain tormented them with its cold that froze them to the bone. In a few minutes, and both falling near a strange stone, they looked back: they could make out the menacing shadows that were already reaching them. Stan felt the stone, and saw that it was indeed the chest. “Sixer, it’s here!” Both were being seized with fear, they were going to get closer! Stan shook the chest, vainly trying to get the chest to transport them again. “C’mon, just do it!” Stan gave the chest a good blow, and it, without either of them touching it, began to exude the same smoke. They both felt it as a hot, a burning sensation.

The two of them came out driven by that smoke. They seemed to be turning hands, gripping them tightly. The men from the north couldn't see it, but the cufflinks were stretched like a garter that swirled into the chest.

Ford felt he was flying, thrown into the unknown... until he fell into something hard called ground. Stan also fell next to him. They were both breathing hard, and looked up. The lid was decoupled from the hinges, but black smoke gripped the lid and snapped it back into place, sealing the chest tightly.

“Are you okay?” Ford asked his twin. “I'm just gonna say one thing” Stan stared at the sky, tired, but not exhausted of humor: “: I don't wanna to know ‘bout treasures or chests... got it?” “... got it...” Stanford smiled, about to laugh at outbursts of nerves and relief: they had narrowly escaped. Stan followed him. “Wanna go to Stan ‘O War” “Sure…”

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Kinktober 23: Public/Exhibition

Masterlist 

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky (James) Barnes X OFC X Steve (Steven) Rogers

Warnings:  Forced Exhibitionism, hints to non-con, dub-con

Summary: Viking AU Steve AND Bucky! A gift from the god of thunder is more than expected and shown off to the rest of the group but receives special attention from the leader and his second in command.

A/N: Wow, didn't realize how long I went on this one. The Jotunn are not like we know from the MCU. In this story they are a tribe of northern people crazy enough to live in the cold waste and rumored to be demi-gods. The idea is that Thor is still a god and Steve and Bucky are demi-gods. This is forced exhibition being she is stripped bare before the men.

Words: +2,600

————

The weather had begun to turn colder, snow whipped around and past the two hooded figures that ducked into the thankfully warm and well-lit long house. The heavy hand on her cloaked shoulder was the only thing keeping her from shivering and bolting out the door. 

They were surrounded by the great warriors of Steven the Righteous, that was what they called the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Viking leader, but he was nothing but merciless. Trying to dig her heals in the closer she got to the front of the crowd, the man, no the god that had his hand clamped on her shoulder pressured her around the rock fire ring.

Had it not been for the grip on her shoulder, she would had fell to her knees at the base of a large chair. Forced to halt, nervously the hooded woman took a breath that made her chest ache, locking the gaze of the very Viking, Steven. Noting he was watching her close and so was the man next to his chair, a brunet sporting a silver arm. 

“My friend,” Thor boomed next to her, the blond demi-god getting to his feet to step forward. The god moving around her but kept close, so if she tried to bolt he could easily reach her. But like he couldn’t easily strike her down with Mjolnir.

Pleasantries exchanged, Thor, tugged her forward, ripping the cloak from her shoulders to expose thick, bare curves to the entire gathering. The talking and movement going silent as murmured whispers began of the thin, blue lined marks covering her body.

Tall, but not as much as the god and the two demi-gods. Pale skin that attested to life in darkness, such as the northern Jotunn tribes were, but it was littered in beautifully laid out, blue lines, placed by seidr attesting to bloodline and stature. Raven locks fell in waves mid-back and bright orbs shinning like electric green fire glared at them, a trademark of a select few tribes. 

Trying to hide her nakedness with her arms, Thor was quick to grab her hand to force the woman to turn, showing off bare, thick curves. The hand the god held clenching into a fist, digging nails into the calloused flesh enough to split the tough hide while her freehand gripped to Thor’s armored wrist in an attempt to make him release her.

“A gift from the Jotunn,” Thor spoke to the blonde and brunet that had stepped forward.

The thick creature may be Jotunn but that didn't mean the men were permitted to view her bare flesh. Bright emerald orbs searching desperately for the robe to cover her nakedness while Thor continued to show her off. The god released her to stumble slightly before halting before the two Viking men who looked her up and down as her head spun.  

The entire long house made it apparent she was the star of the show, having all came forward to watch the exhibit of a race rarely seen out of their territory, let alone a female. Swallowing hard, she had thoughts of stepping back as the brunet reached to the glittering gold collar around tender throat to pull her close.

The brunet coved in light furs circled her like fresh meat, and she possibly was to him. Stormy blue orbs looked thick curves up and down as she began to feel even more lightheaded. Cautiously the Jotunn reached up to lace fingers under the collar in hopes of keeping it from biting into the flesh and ghosting the metal armed Vikings fingers that burned hot.

Curvaceous body moving ever so slighly as he stepped forward to take a metal hand full of raven black hair and scent of it, taking in the fragrance of fine, expensive oils. 

Immediately she noted the bulge in his pants before stepping back, releasing the collar for Steven to step forward in his place, wanting his own look.  

James kept her gaze as Steven stepped up but didn’t take the collar. Stormy blue following the curve of her breast, down the slope of plump side to pause between the apex of thick thighs. He looked back up to take her gaze, but Steven had it as the blond was sure to keep her hands knocked away and to her sides. 

Eyeing the blue seidr marks over her body, James knew some Jotunn customs, the meaning behind the marks. Keen eyes looked for the origin mark, all Jotunn had them, it specified how important they were in Jotunn society. Instantly sharp sight spotted the mark on her chest, snaking just below the hollow of her neck and stopping between her breast.

Royalty, high ranking royalty and demi-god as well. 

The blond walked around the bare creature, jerking her hand from her body every time she reached to cover herself. He didn't look at her any less salaciously, studying every curve and mark as if committing it to memory but he didn't seem as hungry as the metal armed Viking. 

Holding the blonds gaze, her heart hammered harder as he reached out to touch her long hair, letting fall between his fingers. He noted it's softness, the ebony tress a great contrast to his own pale fingers.

She was a prize, stepping back as an extravagant dressed man in burgundy and gold stepped up to jerk her wrist and twirl her into the crowd. 

The quick tug and sudden spin had her head reeling along with her guts. The crowd parted for the bare creature to have room and everyone got a look as their laughter at her expense echoed in her ears. 

Finally stopping herself, she noted it was all men, no woman in sight, and there appeared to be no servants as she paused between them all. At this point what was the goal of hiding herself, arms slipping to her sides, ready to fight them fang and claw. That was if she could get her bearings.

Turning in the circle of men, she looked for a way out, a way past them all, then found herself looking for the demi-gods. The crowd getting closer, she let out a snarl and flash of fang which only earned her a chuckle from the men who thankfully stopped. It was apparent they knew just how vicious a cornered Jotunn could be, even if it was outnumbered. 

It truly didn’t matter anyway; she was to be had by someone by the end of the night. A finger trailing a mark along curvy side had the Jotunn spinning from the one in burgundy garb. The well-kept man letting out a chuckle as he easily deflected her blow, forcing her to stumble back and never realizing the crowd had guided her back to the god and their leader.

“She’s a credit to her tribe, a very strong creature,” Thor chuckled grabbing a plump hip to make her jolt and turn to fight. But the metal hand wrapping her forearm made her stop as she was drug back and forced to sit next to the large chair. 

“I suggest you stay here if you want out of here without any bruises,” the brunet spoke, latching a chain to the collar as he went to speak with the god. 

Studying the brunet over, she knew the metal limb was a gift from and forged by Thor himself. Looking away from the now gartering crowd, she turned attention to the anchor holding the chain to the chair. Meticulously she dug at it with sharp nails, flaking away the metal that felt to be some sort of hard ore. Flake by minute flake was dug free to get to the brads holding the anchor in place.

Slowly, her fingers began to become sore, running nails under the rounded brads to tug at them. This was no ordinary ore, she was barely doing damage to it as she dug at it, thick body huddled tight against the chair to not draw attention but that was laughable. All Jotunn drew attention due to their larger stature, raven black hair, blue lined skin and bright, almost neon green eyes. 

Nail ripping just as one of the brads began to loosen and carefully she wiggled it with sore digits. It was working out, slowly, that meant only-. Tired emerald orbs scanning the anchor, taking count of over 18 rivets holding the anchor down. She felt a crazy smile begin to take her features.

Gods! She would go mad before she got all those out. This entire situation was maddening, fingers working the one brad, still tugging and tearing a nail into he quick. Heart hammering harder, breath growing quicker. It never registered as a scorching hand wrapped her jaw to tear her gaze from the anchor and her work while another hand took the one worrying the brad, fingers raw and beginning to bleed.

Baring her fangs, she scented who it belonged to and felt tears she thought would never come rim her eyes. “I wouldn’t,” came a calming voice, the hand wrapping her chin lifting emerald orbs to the blue gaze of Steven himself. “You want make it far with my men around. It’s been several months since they have bedded a creature as beautiful as you.”

Easily he allowed her hand from his but continued to hold her jaw. She noted him looking the collar over, reading the runes. “Seeress,” he spoke quietly the moment a heavy fur dropped around her shoulders. 

Relieved Steven released her after another moment of studying her face over and the faint, delicate lines there, knowing he had to know some of her kind to note the marks on her collar. Drawing away, but leaning heavily against the chair, she tried to settle into the massive fur to hide, but it appeared that wasn't going to happen. 

The metal hand of the brunet wrapped her face and strangely it was gentle. A soft tug got her to unsteady feet, turning her so she faced him, and her back was to the crowd. Stormy blues locked her gaze, metal thumb tracing over her lip as his gaze flicked to them then her eyes once more before carefully releasing her. 

A presence at her back made her turn, or more or less stumble to see who they were, leaning heavily into the metal armed Viking who didn't budge. Metal hand settling over her neck and shoulder to keep her in place and flush to him as it snaked around her throat and jaw, so she met Steven's gaze. She noted the blond watch James movements close and hers closer.  

She could smell the mead on them both, instinctually she tried to pull away, gripping tight to the fur and hoping they didn't take it. Holding her ground she braced for it to be taken as Steven reached towards her but was surprised when the chain on her collar fell to the floor. 

Quickly Steven took a step forward to press the woman between he and the other. The blond dipping close, smelling of the oils and soaps, she was clean. Maybe Thor did keep his hands off of her.  

“Take her to the longhouse,” was all Steven uttered as James released her jaw to twist his hand in the fur and tug her back. 

She kept up with James the best she could, breath taken the instant he pulled her out of the back of the long house and into the snow. Bare feet relishing in the feel of the fresh snow, having to almost run to keep up with the Viking as she spotted another long house not far with smoke slowly rising out of the roof.

James looked back to the creature that followed, he was curious of her marks now, having overheard Steven calling her a seeress. He didn't have to tug her along, but he had a feeling due to her smaller Jotunn size she may be slightly more susceptible to the cold as a shiver shook through her.

Pushing the door open, he made sure she entered first, pushing her before him into the warm long house and shutting the door.

Pausing in the entry way, she noted the beds on either side of the fire pit. One appeared larger and well slept in while the other was small and appeared untouched. Meeting the Viking’s gaze, her thought must have shown in her eyes as he spoke.

"No, Steven and I aren't. I don't sleep," his voice gritted, he was irritated as he stepped close, looping a finger in the collar to lead her to the firepit.

The Jotunn noted the room was lit nicely, possibly due to the lanterns littering the tops of the walls. They appeared Asgardian, but then again they had the same color scheme as the man in burgundy and gold who had tugged her into the crowd. 

Meeting his gaze as they stopped next to the fire pit, James kept hold of the collar as he jerked the fur away to fling it onto the untouched pallet. The fire light shimmered in her eyes as hatred flickered across her face, more so as he traced a flesh finger over the mark on her chest, the seidr that resided in the mark tingling.

Eyes going wide, she felt it take her breath before she forced her hands into his chest, but he was quick to grab both wrist in the massive metal hand and grip them bruisingly tight. Easily he forced her to the pristine pallet covered in furs but assured she stayed on her feet. Harshly releasing her, James barked an order for her to turn.

She noted his gaze was studying the marks on her flesh, but still he paused at thick thighs and what laid between them. Taking the opportunity to show herself for the chance to survey the room, quick to note the door they had come through.

No latch that would keep her from bolting out the door. No chain that she could see to latch her collar. A shield, well-worn and metal one propped next to the disheveled bed. Pausing as she was facing the Viking and jolting when his hand reached to a bare hip.

Her muscles were pulled tight, they had to release the energy that bound seidr was causing. Faster than James could follow, she had managed to knock him back. The Viking falling into the fire pit with a hate filled snarl as she didn't hesitate to bolt towards the door.

Wrapping a hand around the metal handle she jerked, and it never budged, never shook in its casing. Had she been focused she would have felt the magic coursing through the handle and the very structure of the door and long house. But unfortunately all she could think to do was escape or fight, and now it appeared it was fight. 

Turning to face the irate Viking, it appeared he had shrugged off the fur he had worn, possibly to keep it from burning him alive. The Jotunn froze as he done the same, noting her looking for an escape and he hated to inform her there were none.

"There’s no way out," James spoke oddly calm, soothingly as if he was trying to keep her calm. "The only way is that door. Only I and a select few can open it."

Fixing James with a look the Viking knew all too well. It was one he gave frequently, determination to fight or die trying. "Come here so I want have to hurt you," James spoke quietly, hinting she stand before him.

Frozen to the spot, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t tip over if she did take a step forward. Painfully she teetered on the edge of giving into his demands in hopes she wouldn’t be ruined or fight until he had to kill her to make her stop. Finding the nerve, she took a step forward, meeting his gaze.

James seen the spark in her eyes and knew this wasn't going to be simple, a wild beast caged and cornered was a force to be reckoned with.

Tags are OPEN! REBLOGS ALWAYS WELCOMED!

Tags: @ruckystarnes @cruel-kitten  @moonfaery @dark-night-sky-99 @gramaeryebard  @katstablook @andiyholly @jovanna-shewolf @nickyl316h @aslandia726 @furstinnajoelle @itsbqueenthings @collinsstanharbour @jazzieomega @moonlightprime @bambamwolf87 @tomhardy41 @get-loki @drakonwild @alexakeyloveloki  @scorpionchild81 @devilbat @cherrygeek86