#Men and Motors watching

[qafefopurup]

40tl868b manual meat

nual-transmission, https://qafefopurup.tumblr.com/post/694301776555442176/ic-7200-manual.

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread

PAIR: Thomas Hewitt x f!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: You hide and don't get slaughtered. Tommy secretly keeps you. He's kinda sweet if you're good.

WARNINGS: I8+ Canon-typical violence (implied) & setting, captivity, dark caretaking, manhandling, sleeper hold, oral f receiving, noncon unsafe piv, finger gagging, dark fluff, tommy has a praise kink, stockholm syndrome vibes. NO human skin mask: leather partial mask shown in photo. He is feral and naive due to his family. No use of Y/N. Divider by gasolinerainbowpuddles.

SIZE KINK - Reader is much smaller than Leatherface, can be carried and maneuvered. He is 6’5”, thicc and STRONG.

You barely escaped the so-called law man, and your friends weren’t so lucky. They got chased right into the lair of a chainsaw-wielding giant.

“C’mon, Tommy,” the Sheriff encouraged the giant, “Just like the slaughterhouse.”

Heavy chains thrashed, and one of your friends groaned.

“Attaboy,” the Sheriff praised.

While they were distracted, you ducked into a nearby woodshed. You didn't dare go far – you had encountered too many hazards on the property to trust your footing, and couldn't risk calling attention. Instead, you sat there in the shed, paralyzed, listening to your friends get butchered. One by one, their squeals turned animalistic until a wet thwack or rev of a motor cut them off.

Finally, there were no more screams.

Huddled in a corner of the woodshed, you tried to keep your wits about you. The shed was about the size of a small dorm room. There were stacks of wood all around–some freshly cut, some rotted–and hay covered the floor.

You were in a tank top and Daisy dukes with cowboy boots that made you feel like an idiot. You had sap on your knees from crawling over the wood. Taking deep breaths did nothing but fill your nose with cedar - it was only a matter of time before you’d meet your fate. You picked splinters out of your hands as you replayed the chase in your mind. You began to feel sure “Tommy” had seen you run into the shed. If that was the case, you didn't know why he let you go. You could only guess he already had his hands full.

“Think we got’em all, son?” The Sheriff asked.

Tommy grunted.

“That’s my boy,” the Sheriff concluded.

-

Dusk was approaching. Not long after the Sheriff left, heavy footsteps crunched louder and louder toward the woodshed. Your heart pounded harder with each step. The rickety door busted open with a plume of dust. Tommy’s silhouette consumed almost all the daylight that remained.

The door frame would’ve been tall enough for most men, but Tommy had to duck on his way in. He carried an ax. Each step he took shook the entire structure. His breathing was loud, his mouth hanging open below the leather that covered his nose. The partial mask covered his chin too, but not his mouth. It was fastened with two straps behind his head nestled in thick, chestnut hair that came down around his shoulders.

He approached you cautiously and paused when he was an arm’s length away. You whimpered, knees held to your chest. He sniffed around like an animal. Then he brushed a stray section of hair out of his eyes, and you saw a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. You tried to compose yourself, wondering if your fear could trigger him.

He knelt down to get a better look at you. He reached for you, and you jumped. He grumbled and held up a massive finger less than an inch from your mouth, telling you to be quiet.

Something possessed you to reach for his hand. He let you move it.

You put his palm on your cheek and watched his chest heave in confusion.

He tilted his head and stayed crouched there for a moment, staring at you with his brown eyes softening above the leather.

“Attaboy,” you whispered, repurposing the Sheriff’s words.

Tommy huffed, then abruptly stood. He left the shed, ax slung over his shoulder. He ducked again on his way out.

He didn't return for a while. You finally dared to open the door just enough to look out, but not for long, startled by an older woman’s voice calling, “Tommy!!! Time for supper.” You shrunk back into your corner, afraid you had been spotted.

You sat there frozen, afraid to run.

-

Sometime later, you heard a squeaky wheel approach the shed. The door opened more quietly than it had the first time. The hulking silhouette was backlit by a buzzing floodlight in the yard. The man seemed to be more careful and quiet this time. He had brought a few blankets. One of them was tattered, pale yellow bordering what used to be white, and it had Care Bears on it. He put the blanket over your body, coming all the way up to your neck, and patted your head. Then he took a bundle of newspaper out from under his arm and handed it to you like an offering. It smelled like barbecue.

As he turned to leave, you whispered, “Tommy.”

He dropped his head and looked back.

“Thank you,” you said.

Looking at the wall, Tommy offered a short nod before leaving. Then he locked the door from the outside.

After he left, you opened the newspaper. It was too dark to see, but the contents felt like a charred bone with bits of flesh hanging to it. You weren't hungry anyway.

You wrapped yourself tight in the blanket, and to your discomfort, your heart fluttered at the man’s softness with you. You replayed the day’s harrowing events in your mind’s eye and saw him differently than you had at first. Maybe he was nothing but an attack dog. You began to doubt he would've hurt your friends at all if not for the older, more wicked man in uniform.

Maybe Tommy was as much of a prisoner as you were. You wondered if he could talk. You felt sure he could listen.

After sunrise, you awoke to some commotion and heard a vehicle drive away. After a period of silence, you tried to open the door to the shed, but it was securely locked.

Soon, Tommy came back and unlocked it. He moved swiftly toward you with purpose in each heavy step, crouching slightly. The mass of his body strained his shirt. You'd never seen forearms like his. He could surely snap you like a twig, but something told you he wouldn't. Still, your heart raced when he lunged toward you. He reached over a wood pile and used both massive hands to force you onto your feet. He wrapped you in the blanket, then put you over his shoulder like a potato sack.

He put you into his wheelbarrow, then nestled some firewood around you. He looked around furtively as he did it. Then he covered you with another blanket and wheeled you across the bumpy ground, onto a smoother surface. He rolled a garage door down behind you and left you covered in the wheelbarrow as he rummaged around the garage.

You peeked out from the blanket and saw him placing shackles on a table. Your heart raced. You glanced behind you. The garage door was still lifted by a small margin. Maybe big enough to fit through.

You watched in terror as he brought out a mallet. Finally, your body unfroze.

You lowered yourself out of the wheelbarrow as carefully and quietly as you could and crawled toward the narrow opening. As you began to wriggle under it, your ass hit the door, making a noise far too loud to go unnoticed.

Within a split second, his massive hands were firm around your ankles, pulling you toward him, dragging you roughly across the concrete.

He manhandled you like a doll. He forced you onto your back and shook you, then wrapped a massive hand around your neck. Your life flashed before your eyes, and you kicked him. He grunted and grabbed you roughly by the shirt, then sat back on his knees. He held you with your back against his enormous thigh. Your Daisy dukes did nothing to protect your ass from the cold concrete. You thrashed, and he put the crook of his elbow around your neck, then everything faded.

When you woke up, you were chained to the table, with cold, metal shackles on your wrists and one ankle. You were bottomless, and the air was cool between your legs. Your feet were bare. All you had left was your tank top, which you wore without a bra.

You didn't dare move. A foul dust in the air made you sneeze, then Tommy came into view. He was wearing a butcher’s apron, and the sleeves of his dingy, button-up shirt were rolled up to expose those big, hairy forearms. He held the mallet. His eyes were industrious.

“Please don't hurt me,” you begged.

He laid a heavy hand on your shin, and you flinched. He gently placed your free ankle in a shackle, then nailed it shut.

“Please,” you begged.

He laid a hand on your thigh and looked you in the eyes.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked.

He huffed and put the mallet away.

You were relieved until he returned with a meat cleaver. You tensed and squirmed. He laid a hand on your stomach and his searing eyes told you to stay still. He slid the cleaver under your tank top, and you held your breath and looked at the ceiling. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of his knuckles between your breasts.

He violently sliced upward through the fabric, turning your wifebeater into a vest which burst open, freeing your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight and discarded the meat cleaver with a metallic clatter on a nearby shelf.

“Please,” you begged again, then he stuck his fingers in your mouth and peered in. His thick digits tasted like charcoal and salt. Three fingers were enough to stuff the orifice completely. When you stopped whining, he abandoned your mouth.

He cupped a breast, then cupped both of them. He hummed a curious “mm,” Then dragged his thumb down your sternum before stepping away to survey your body.

You felt like a cadaver sliced open for examination. As he slowly stalked around the table, it dawned on you that's what he was doing. He was studying you.

He stopped at a long side of the table – your left side. He brought his face–his leather mask–to your skin, just below your ribs. His hair fell onto your body, and the light brush of it tickled. He paused to loosen the strap at the back of his head. Then he dipped his face to your abdomen again. He turned his head and dragged his cheek, and the leather, over your bare stomach, to your breast. You could hear him desperately sniffing and wondered why he didn't take that thing off.

Lips, hair, and smooth leather dragged across your skin as he wiped his face along your chest. Then his face made its way into your armpit, where a dart of his tongue made you flinch and shiver. His tongue darted out again. He sucked the delicate skin slightly into his mouth before releasing it with a soft grunt.

He paused and pulled away. He pivoted to stand behind your head, then brought his hands to your breasts. Helowered his mouth to your neck and licked you. His hair fell on your nose and smelled like smoke and metal.

He seemed to savor the taste of your skin. He licked longer, harder, the strong slippery muscle of his tongue nudging your jugular. You felt a rush of arousal and shame. He tasted the other side of your neck and hummed in satisfaction. The throbbing between your legs made you wince.

He dragged his tongue down over your chest to lap at your breast. He flattened his tongue to lick your nipple, then began to suckle at it. One thing was clear - this was not for your enjoyment. He was entirely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn't even glance at your face. Whether it was for his pleasure or curiosity, you couldn't be sure. He moaned into your nipple and you knew you must have been gushing onto the table.

After a few seconds, he pulled away from your tit and began to sniff the air. He stalked around the table some more and paused at your shackled feet, staring up between your spread legs. He found the source. His hands dwarfed your thighs as he pushed them further apart. Then he dabbed a thick finger, only grazing your folds as he picked up just a taste of you from the table and brought it to his mouth.

“Mm,” he hummed quietly, staring between your legs. He licked his finger again and his eyes searched the air curiously. Then he grabbed your upper thighs and anchored his thumbs on your outer lips, spreading you open. His heavy gut rested on the table between your feet as he leaned forward. As he lowered his mouth to your cunt, you twitched and felt another rush of shame.

His breath was hot on your cunt, then he dipped his tongue, and you tensed.

He lapped at your entrance, and the physical pleasure made you exhale and relax, while your fear remained. He licked and sucked, and your moan echoed before you could try to cut it short. Your chest was hot with embarrassment, but if he heard the sound, he ignored it.

He fed on your juices like a starved animal. He sucked and slurped, and dug his lips and tongue in, searching for more. The squelching and gurgling sounds were obscene between your legs. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into your hips as he feasted.

The leather mask nudged your clit and made your hips lift into his mouth. He brought a hand to your lower belly to hold you still. Then his tongue plunged into you. You whispered, “good boy,” and your whole body felt weak with shame.

He paused and glanced up, then repeated the action. It was true, some part of you welcomed this, as afraid as you were. In any case, the heat and pressure building in your gut would have to release at some point.

He fucked you with his tongue, nudging your clit with the smooth leather, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You'd never been eaten so voraciously. He moaned into your cunt and the tension was too much to hold. You whimpered as you began to pulse and twitch. His tongue paused as you clenched around it. Then he continued. Your back arched as he sucked it all out of you, swallowing every drop he could find. As your climax waned, you took slow, deep breaths.

Finally, he slowed down. He looked flustered for a moment, then his hand disappeared from your thigh. He pulled his face away, and the leather mask was soaked and shiny. Then he took his apron off. When he stood to put the apron aside, the protrusion in his pants made your breath hitch and your asshole flutter.

Your cunt spasmed once around nothing, and your insides churned as though making room for a massive guest.

You couldn't peel your eyes away. He adjusted himself, then palmed the bulge. His shirt had come untucked. The bottom button wasn't fastened, and his midsection strained the other buttons as his whole torso heaved. He eyed the mess between your legs as he palmed himself.

He seemed to be considering the possibility of stuffing your cunt with whatever monstrosity hid in his pants. He could take anything he wanted, but he didn't look proud of it. This didn't feel like something he did every day.

You decided not to fight back. You told yourself it was for survival, but you also twitched at the thought of him wrecking you. You looked at his crotch, then down between your legs, still gushing at the sight of him barely contained by his pants. The way his whole body wanted to bust out of his clothes made you weak in the knees. He was so solid and strong. You looked again from his crotch to your own, as though your eyes were instructing where to put it in defiance of your better judgment.

He grumbled as he picked up a hammer and approached you, making your heart nearly stop.

He pried the nails out of the shackles, and you cursed yourself for the way your heart fell. Your disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. A man this size, with these capabilities – he could have done serious damage to your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You laid on the table patiently looking at the ceiling as he went down to your feet and unshackled your ankles.

Then he grabbed you by the thighs and yanked you toward the end of the table, making you yelp. Your naked crotch came to rest flush against the bulge in his pants, making you ache with arousal. Your thighs trembled in fear.

You looked down toward him and he forced your chin upward, making you look at the ceiling. You pinched your eyes shut. You were at war with your body’s desire. He might kill you. He might actually split you in two. The dying squeals of your friends echoed in your mind. But his hardness swelled against you, and oh, fuck.

His hips backed up and you twitched at the loss of his warm package against you.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you heard his clothes jostling, then he spread your lips apart while he notched his tip against you. It was too big. He held your thighs again and pulled you toward him with a forward thrust and a grunt.

Being impaled with his cock felt like being split open. The girth burned as it stretched you, and you whimpered as your body tried to accommodate him. He stayed inside, and he sighed. You'd never felt so stuffed. He leaned forward, and the contact with your clit provided some relief as your body spread itself more. But still, your heart raced at the prospect of him moving. You prayed he would be gentle.

When you didn't stop whimpering, he stuck his fat, smokey fingers in your mouth again. He placed his other hand on your chest to hold you still, with the crook of his thumb close to your throat. You gagged on his fingers and he removed them. He wiped your saliva onto your nipple before kneading your breast.

Thankfully, you were wet and getting wetter. He held you down and slammed into you. The fullness pushed your thoughts out of the way along with your guts. You kept your eyes shut as he speared into you again.

His breathing and grunting seemed to echo through the room with every snap of his hips. His unholy girth twitched against your walls. He grabbed onto your hips and brutally pounded you. He used you like a sleeve until his moans were drawn out and his breath became ragged. He pulled you back hard and leaned forward, the weight of him resting on your lower abdomen. Your cunt fluttered in anticipation of his climax, but he paused. Your hips lifted, seeking friction for your front.

He pulsed once, making your chest flutter with pleasure, but then he swiftly slid out. He left you twitching for more as he finished coming outside. His cum painted your folds and inner thigh, and he grumbled and turned around. You lowered your chin to look just in time for him to release onto the wheelbarrow and floor. Then he stood there with his broad back heaving as he looked around.

You closed your eyes again and opened them when you felt fabric on your inner thigh. He was wiping you off with the bottom of his shirt. His face and neck were blotched pink, and he had fixed his pants. He was looking at you, chest still heaving when his ears perked up at the distant sound of tires on gravel.

He quicky put your shorts back on and gathered you off the table, nestling you in the wheelbarrow once more. He swaddled you in the old blanket, now wet with his cum, and opened the garage before quickly wheeling you back to the shed.

He placed you in the corner where you had been, just in time for the truck to park. As he turned to leave the shed, you said “Tommy. Can you bring me some water?”

He hesitated then gave a short nod before locking the shed again behind him.

He came back later with a jar of water and a metal bucket. You were shivering in the corner when he came in. He set the bucket down next to you, then placed his hand on the crown of your head and gently moved his fingers as he looked around. Then he abruptly began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled you up from the corner to put the shirt on you. His chest was hairy and broad, and his entire torso was thick, just massive.

“Good Tommy,” you said as he finished putting the shirt on you.

He paused and left it unbuttoned. His eyes were big. He held you by the sides, looking you up and down in the oversized shirt and Daisy dukes. Then he put you back where you were and locked the shed behind him.

The shirt was filthy, cumstained, and reeked of sweat, but it didn’t smell as bad as it should've. It didn't make you sick like it should've. When he left, you wrapped it tight around yourself, then looked in the bucket. There were apples.

Thank you for reading and engaging! Love you guys 🖤 please consider commenting even if this is old. It helps to know what you liked.

If you want more, good news - I have more thots! Feel free to send yours, too.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

The Popular Vote

The livestream always happens on midnight of Saturday. There’s a hefty buy-in to be able to tune in but that never stops the audience from growing in number every stream. Every viewer has one ballot per round, each round is different. Cast your ballot before the vote ends and the majority option gets played out in real-time.

This Saturday night, I made the mistake of staying overtime at work, and I missed the last train home. Which meant walking alone on a dark path that, in the daylight, would be a breezy twenty minute stroll. But at night, it’s a different story. And clearly, since that dark trek put me in the perfect position to be taken away in a van by men who were interested in seeing me crying and screaming in pain and pleasure, at the whim of a merciless audience.

When I wake up, I’m naked and tied up, arms and legs spread out, suspended from the ceiling, with each foot on a small platform that offered enough support to take the strain off my arms and shoulders but not enough to offer any true leverage.

It takes me a few minutes to shake off the grogginess of whatever sedative they’d drugged me with, but when I do, I feel my blood run cold.

I’m surrounded by massive screens, several of which show live footage of my predicament from different angles. The screen that scares me the most is the one showing a live chat feed, with a constant barrage of messages coming in from viewers. The set-up is terrifyingly sophisticated and fear curdles my stomach in a way that makes tears well up in my eyes.

“Please! Please let me go!” I cry into the cold, unfeeling room of machinery and screens. My body struggles against the bindings but there’s no give. There’s no audible reply but I watch the chat light up with comments that make me shudder.

“I fucking love when the whores beg before we’ve even started.”

“She’s hot when she’s squirming, can’t wait to see how much she struggles tonight.”

“I wanna see her beg for mercy. Not that there will be any.”

I sob harder, tears making the chat box blurry in my vision. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out that there’s no one and nothing saving me from whatever is going to happen here.

Suddenly, a robotic voice fills the room. “Welcome to The Popular Vote. For those of you who are new to the show, please remember that each of you have a single vote to cast during every round. Vote in the allotted time and our team will implement the majority vote’s decision. Please enjoy the show.”

I gasp when the door to the room opens and four men walk in, dressed in identical black uniforms with masks covering their faces.

“Please! Please, let me go, this is a mistake!” My desperate voice fills the room but has no impact on the men, they didn’t even look in my direction, instead walking past me towards a storage cabinet behind me.

I watch through the camera’s footage as they open the cabinets and start to pull out item after item. Each one makes me more and more scared as they pull out various toys, vibrators, and other devices and machines I don’t even recognize.

There’s an electronic ding that fills the room and the same robotic voice is back. “Our first poll is beginning. Please vote now. Option 1 is subjecting our victim to clitoral stimulation by vibrator. Option 2 is vaginal penetrative stimulation by fucking machine.”

I cry out, “Wait, no, please! I don’t want this, please stop!” I watch in vain as the votes start to roll in on the screen, a feeling of helplessness overwhelming me as I watch two competing bars increase in percentage on the screen as viewers place their ballots.

There’s a robotic series of dings that sound, signaling the final few seconds of voting and through my panic, I see that the second option has pulled ahead of the first.

I choke out another sob as I watch the four men in the room start moving towards me. Two of them are rolling a machine over, a motorized piston with a massive dildo attached to the end of it. Clearly it’s meant for me.

“Please, please, no, I don’t want this, please stop!” I know it’s useless to beg but I can’t help it. My voice is shaky and thin with apprehension and I can tell it has no effect on any of the men. I glance to the chat box and the messages there make me feel even more helpless.

“That whore is going to love that machine, these little sluts always do.”

“I hope she squirts and cries when she realizes she likes this, stupid whore is going to get fucking ruined.”

In the few moments I spent reading comments, the men have rolled the fucking machine right under me and started to raise it to reach my core.

With my legs tied down and spread, there is nothing protecting me from the toy and it’s violation of me. I feel the tip of the fake cock brush my core and I thrash pointlessly, barely able to move to make a difference.

As the machine continues to rise, I feel my stomach clench when I realize that my pussy is wet. I gasp when I feel the tip of the dildo breach my core, the thickness of the toy filling me so well that I can’t help but groan. The machine continues, pushing the toy slowly and steadily filling my cunt. My back arches as I feel it rub against every part of my now-dripping cunt and I whine when it finally comes to a stop, fully seated inside of me.

I’m panting, the massive dildo splitting me open in a way that feels so fucking good. I clench around it and whimper when pleasure shoots up my spine. I glance at the livestream and see my own image, my eyes wild and body heaving from the pleasure of just having the toy inside of me. The chat box is flooded with comments about me, the way I look, the sounds I make, and the anticipation of what is to come.

Suddenly, one of the men in the room toggles a switch on the machine, and it begins.

My scream is drawn-out and wanton in response to the indescribable pleasure that floods my every sense. The men set the machine at a relentless pace, the huge cock driving into my cunt ruthlessly at a pace that is virtually inhuman.

I’m lost in the sensation of every single thrust sliding against my g-spot and slamming into my cervix, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. I can feel my body trembling at the onslaught of raw, unadulterated pleasure and the sounds that the machine is pulling from my lips could make a pornstar blush. I can feel the creeping warmth of an orgasm fast approaching as the machine fucks me into submission.

Suddenly, an electronic ding sounds. The robotic voice comes on again, with an announcement that barely registers in my pleasure-scrambled brain. “Please vote to determine the next step. Option 1 subjects our victim to forced orgasms, option 2 is edging and orgasm denial, and option 3 is ruined orgasms.”

I whine and plead but I don’t even know what I’m begging for. My eyes are too unfocused to see the progression of the vote, and of the options, I can’t even begin to fathom which would be the best. I hear the three dings that signal the vote has ended and I force my eyes to focus on the screen, my stomach clenching when I see the result: ruined orgasms.

The machine hasn’t relented on its motions, each thrust driving into my wet cunt in a way that is so perfectly and achingly torturous. My clit is throbbing and part of me wishes I could grind it against something, anything to give me a little more stimulation to push me over the edge. But there’s nothing beyond the machine forcing its cock deep inside of me, making me ride the wave of pleasure that pushes me towards to precipice of a massive orgasm. I feel my entire body tense in response to the impending onslaught of pleasure and my pussy clenches around the dildo splitting me open.

Two more hard thrusts pushes me over the edge and I let out a moaning scream as I feel the tension snap and my body clenches in burning pleasure. A seemingly endless wave of overwhelming and uncontrollable pleasure slams into me as my orgasm erupts. At that exact moment, the toy inside of me a delivers a horrible jolt of electricity, one that slams through my cunt and cruelly and abruptly yanks my body away from pleasure.

The pain takes my breath away but my body reacts more to my ruined orgasm than it does the shock. My moan turns into a wail as useless pleas pour out of my mouth, tears running down my cheeks as I feel the toy continue to fuck me through the disappointment of an orgasm it forced upon me. There’s a cruel emptiness inside of me despite the unrelenting fake cock that fills me with every thrust and a gut-wrenching, unfulfilling hunger that overtakes the pleasure that was horribly ripped away from me.

“Ah, fuck, please, please make it stop!” My voice is ragged and desperate as I plead for mercy from an uncaring audience. The men in the room are maintaining their cold indifference towards my suffering as the machine under their control continues to batter my body.

I feel my body shudder in overstimulation as the merciless machine pushes me closer to another orgasm. There’s no break or respite and my pleas fall onto deaf ears.

And as before, just as I feel my orgasm approaching, the feverish pleasure barely rises within me before it’s ripped away, ruined by the delivery of a shocking pain through my pussy that makes me scream in anguish.

The next time it happens, I hear myself wail out desperate cries and pleas that are met with silence. The time after that, my body jerks pitifully in the bindings as every muscle tenses in grief. The one following is the strongest one yet, the constant buildup and denial pushing my body to the brink of tortured pleasure. As the achingly sweet orgasm barrels through me, my pussy clenches down and gushes with my release. I can feel my own juices flowing down my legs, but my squirting orgasm isn’t any different than the previous cruelly ruined ones. The impeccably-timed electric shock yanks my body back from what would have been a mind-shattering, toe-curling sensation and leaves me feeling hollow and helpless.

After that, I stop keeping track of the ruined orgasms. My body should have been shuddering from the overstimulation of countless orgasms but instead, it aches with a voracious, unfulfillable ache that creates an unbearable cycle of horrible, desperate need barely satisfied with every orgasm until it’s torn away. The predictability of it does nothing to assuage the torment, it only makes it worse, to have every beautiful moment of pleasure marred by the inevitable loss that I can do nothing about.

An electronic ding breaks through the haze, another round. The machine beneath me pauses and I choke back a sob at the temporary relief, desperately try to focus on the words that are being announced.

“Our next round will be introducing pharmacological enhancements and orgasm denial. Please select to determine which of the following will be administered to our victim. Option 1 is administration of our proprietary aphrodisiac with no excess stimulation. Option 2 is administration of our proprietary numbing treatment with clitoral stimulation by vibrator.”

My mind wraps around the meaning behind the announcement and I feel myself tremble with desperation. I want nothing more than to cum, just to feel the full, body-shaking, mind-numbing torrent of pleasure that will flood me when a full, uninterrupted orgasm washes over me. But it’s clear that they have other plans.

I watch as the votes roll in, my heart pounding as the two options are very evenly matched in popularity. I brave a glance at the chat box and whimper when I see the comments.

“I fucking love driving a whore insane with denial. I wonder what kind of promises she’ll make to try and convince us to let her cum.”

“If she were mine, I’d never let her cum again. Sluts don’t deserve orgasms.”

Three dings break my concentration and I swing my gaze over to see the results. Option 2 has won out, but barely. I whimper softly as the four men immediately begin to set up. I watch as they wheel the fucking machine out from under me. A blush stains my cheeks when I see the dildo dripping in slick, evidence of my countless ruined orgasms.

I watch through heavy lidded eyes as one of the men reached for a small container. He deftly opens it and dips a gloved finger in, his finger coming out coated in a creamy ointment.

I watch as he comes towards me, his ointment-covered fingers coming to meet my clit in a soft motion that makes me cry out. He is thorough as he rubs the ointment onto my clit, his fingers gently moving against me, offering a delicious friction that pushes me closer towards another orgasm.

The curling warmth of an oncoming rush builds in my core but before I could fully embrace the pleasure, he pulls away and I choke out a whine. “No please, please I’m so close,” my voice is so broken to my own ears but not enough to sway the man.

They wheel out a different machine, this one shaped like a saddle, lined with ridges that line up perfectly to vibrate against and wreak havoc on my sensitive clit. It doesn’t take long for the men to position the machine underneath me. I feel the cold material of the machine against my burning hot pussy and without even thinking about it, I start to grind myself against it. A broken moan leaves my lips at the pleasure that fills me and I whine softly, trying harder to move myself to rub my throbbing clit against the machine that was very quickly starting to dampen from my dripping cunt.

I know without looking at my own image on the livestream that I made for a shameful display of wanton lust and desperation but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My hips move desperately, the bindings making it so that my movements were limited but not impossible. My eyes drift shut as I chase the pleasure, continuing to grind against the machine.

I can feel myself approaching my orgasm, a few more moments and I could almost taste the sweet pleasure. But something was wrong. Even as I rolled my hips against the machine, I could feel sensation fading in between my legs. My clit throbs and aches but the feeling of the ridges against me has become muted, and no matter how hard I grind myself against the machine, the result was the same and I’m faced with the reality that the orgasm I was chasing so closely is too far out of reach now.

I cry out, begging into the void, “Please, no, please! Make it come back, please! I need to cum, I need it!”

My begs are met with silence and I glance towards the chat box, hoping to see something, anything, that would bring me relief. But there’s nothing but cruel, taunting comments.

“Dumb fucking whore doesn’t even understand what’s happening to her stupid body.”

“They haven’t even turned on the machine yet and she’s crying. I love when sluts realize that there’s nothing they can do against the numbing cream.”

“Her clit is so fucking swollen, I hope she doesn’t get a good orgasm at all tonight.”

Suddenly, the machine beneath me roars to life. I gasp when I feel the vibrations course through my body, the harsh motion batters my clit, but instead of being overwhelmed with pleasure, all I can feel is a vague sensation. I sob when the real understanding of what is happening sinks in. The numbing cream they used on me has left me completely unable to feel the machine. I can feel my pussy clenching in need, dripping over the machine uselessly, unable to enjoy any of it. There are wordless whines and begs erupting from my lips as I chase an unreachable end. I beg because there’s nothing else I can do, and because I know that’s what the audience wants to see.

As my mind wraps around this knowledge, I feel broken. My pussy clenches at the understanding that I’m here purely for other people’s entertainment. My suffering is for their enjoyment, and every orgasm ruined, denied, or forced out of my helpless body is done so without any regard to me or my pleasure. I stare into the camera as the machine underneath me batters my clit in a way that should be making me scream. Despite that realization, or maybe because of that realization, my cunt is leaking and clenching and throbbing. My entire being has narrowed to my clit and my cunt, the ghost sensations of pleasure brushing against my psyche.

My mind is fracturing under the torment of nothing. It tries to rationalize, to make feeling where there is none, and if I really focus, I can fool myself into believing that my clit isn’t numb, isn’t blind to the torturous machine that should be pulling orgasm after orgasm out of me. I don’t know how long I’m suspended in nothingness, how long I’m held in this punishing situation of unreachable pleasure.

Three dings pull me out of my mindless misery. My eyes jump to the screen, seeing the chat light up with excited comments about what’s the come. The robotic voice fills the room.

“We reach the end of our night together and our final poll, please vote now. Option 1 allows our victim to be subjected to forced orgasms after we administer the antidote to the numbing cream in combination with targeted electrostimulation while option 2 involves continued denial with impact play and flogging.”

I can’t stop myself from screaming into the room. “Please! Please, fuck, please let me cum! Please!”

I writhe and renew my struggling, starting to futilely grind myself against the vibrator, hoping that the vote will go in my favor. My eyes glance towards to chat box, my heart pounding in anticipation as I read the flood of messages, hoping desperately for mercy.

“I don’t think this fucking whore deserves to cum tonight, I’d rather see her get her tits whipped.”

“I want to see her pass out from being forced to cum over and over again. Plus I wanna see her tight little body shake with electricity.”

My eyes flit to the results of the poll and my heart leaps when I realize option 1 is pulling ahead. Three dings confirm the results of the vote and immediately, I see one of the men approach me with the antidote.

I sob when his fingers brush this new ointment over my swollen clit and all I can do is babble out whines of gratitude. It doesn’t take long for the antidote to take effect as the vibration of the toy begins to wreck me.

There’s no slow, soft build of pleasure. There’s only pure, bone-shattering sensation that slams into me. It tears my breath away and my body erupts in orgasm. The countless denied and ruined orgasms from the beginning of the night seem to have compounded into one horrible explosion of pleasure that rips through me.

I have no sense of the world around me, my entire being has narrowed to the overwhelming wave of sensation. My cunt pulses, spraying my release over the machine that offers me no respite as it forces my body to unimaginable heights.

Suddenly, a sharp jolt of pain along my side breaks into my haze. My eyes dart over and I see the four men crowded around me, each holding an electric wand that pulses a harsh zap through me at every touch.

“No! Please! Stop!” I scream, my voice pitching higher as the men start their torment. Quick jabs around the soft skin of my stomach, hips, thighs, and arms make me scream and thrash but none of that dulls any of the feeling from the vibrator between my legs.

The pain and pleasure rocks through my body and mind, both blending together in a cruel medley that draws wordless screams from my throat. Another orgasm slams through me right as I feel a terrible zap on my nipple. The scream that bursts out of me makes my own ears ache. My psyche is cracking under the onslaught of torment and there’s not a single part of my body that isn’t screaming in overstimulation. I’m nothing more than a collection of raw nerves and throbbing muscles.

The next zap hits the exposed part of my clit and my ears ring as my vision fades to black. That’s the last thing I remember from that night.

When I wake up the next morning, I’m home, in my own bed, my body achingly sore and exhausted. I glance to my bedside table and I see an envelope. In it is a USB and a note with a phone number.

“Enjoy the footage, we certainly did. Call us if you want a repeat.”

I crawl out of bed to grab my laptop and phone, and I save the number to my contacts.

------

Author's Note: I think this is my longest story yet and hope y'all enjoy! Also, I like to imagine this happens in the same universe as Pay to Play, and I'm jealous because I want to live in that universe ;)

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hey you do Sub Boothill? Can I have hcs on how he would be in bed.

AJEIJAJA YES YES YES I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME ABOUT MY WIFE 👏👏👏

Sub!Boothill hc’s!! - nsfw Ofc

So we all know boothill is 10% human 90% Machines, basically his head and collarbone area is real, the rest artificial

For now I’m going to stick to that, later on I’ll experiment a little ;)

Anyway, since he can’t feel anything, he’d be limited to activities surrounding the upper area

That’s why he probably has an oral fixation!

Please use his mouth as you please, it doesn’t matter if he chokes and gags

Tell him though if he was using too much teeth, those things are sharp after all

Due to that, he’d be more of a service sub, wanting to make you feel good

He also loves kisses, everywhere is fine. His neck, face, lips or even the mechanical parts

If you treat his body as if it was a humans, he’d basically melt, even if he doesn’t feel anything

It’s because you put on a show for him, put in the work to adore him everywhere, just watching you do all that makes him happy

Would praise you a lot, and compliment you, but only because someone fudged with his synesthesia beacon- would swear if he could

“Mhm~ darling, dear, my.. sweetie, sweetie, sweetie..<3!! MhmaAhHH!!”

His ‘dirty talk’ is different, but very cute nonetheless

Soo… what if he can still feel some specific parts? Like if you reach far enough, he can feel your fingers in the hole on his back

It literally doesn’t make sense cuz it’s (probably) for tanking, but all of this are just headcanons anyway

If that was possible, that would probably be the closest thing to penetrative sex he could do

Except he has genitals build in, which would be kinda hilarious, like those dolls that can change their dicks, or he can even have a vagina?!?

Anyway back to the main topic. He’d absolutely love it when you touch him there

Because it’s a nice change, since it’s the only place next to his face that he can sense

Obviously he’d be sensitive to it, and probably addicted to it too

Just abuse that spot, finger him all night long~ pretty please?

If somehow he had a hole down there, i don’t give a fuck if it’s a pussy or butthole, make him put it to use, make him ride it allllll night long

Bet he’d love it though, enough for his eyes to roll back and turn into hearts

“Gon- gonna ride you..! MffhH- til my motor tank leak.. haha~”

(I’m so shameless for this men)

[yooo-lets-go]

Is this a mf POLAND REFERENCE??

Translation under the cut if you’re interested:

Anyway

•••

The name Sobiesław Kościuszko sounds like his parents quickly googled "Polish culture" as soon as he was born and then fed him nothing but pierogi his entire childhood

Top left:

“Avada kedavra kurwa”- “avada kedavra bitch!!”

Based on this: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=P1tE7S1F4-4

in the center:

“Bejba,” - phonetic spelling of the way our Eurovision singer Blanka sings the word “Babe” (people make fun of that)

Top right:

“MOJE OHV CHCE MIODU” - “my OHV ( engine) wants honey (motor oil?)”

Based on this video with old Polish cars: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=m_m0WFTAn0E

bottom left:

“nic się nie stało, Polacy, nic się nie stało” - „it’s fine, Poland, it’s fine”

A song, sung after our national football team loses a match (which is, unfortunately, often)

bottom right:

102 on the tank - reference to popular old Polish tv series “Four Tank-Men and a Dog”

their tank was called “Rudy 102” (rudy means red, like red hair)

[zipper-ghost]

Based on a fic I'm working on where Kim and Harry have to go undercover at a gay club

Read the fic on ao3

(lines in bold are Harry’s skills talking. I haven't specified but you can guess)

A chill wind whips their faces as they step onto the precinct roof. They huddle together, facing each other, Harry’s broad body blocking the wind which would snuff out the lighter flame. Kim lit his cigarette and then lit Harry’s. Harry recently switched from Menthols to Kim’s brand of chestnut-flavored cigarettes. Kim hasn’t asked about it even though he noticed.

As the smoke fills his lungs Kim’s whole body visibly relaxes. A softness falls across his expression, his gaze grows distant. You don’t know if it’s the ritual of smoking at the end of the day or the nicotine. The smoldering end of the cigarette is reflected in Kim’s glasses, as are you. They lean against the railing and watch the sunset over the horizon in silence. Harry waits for Kim to start. 

The jingling of Kim unzipping his jacket makes Harry stand a bit straighter and bite the filter for his cigarette. 

“Shall we start?” Kim says taking out his notebook and flipping it open. 

You nod, trying not to linger on Kim’s now exposed collarbone. 

“How do you think the investigation is going?”

“Bad.”

“Kmn, we seem to have hit a dead end. Even though we’ve made contact with the suspect the name he has been using in the club scene seems to be an alias. And his tattoo doesn’t seem to be related to any known gang or criminal organization. We are still waiting for the lab to get back to us about the particular strain of hallucinogen that was in the victim’s system.” 

“It’s worrying…”

“What is?”

“Well, the drug the victim overdosed on- it’s not something we’ve come across before. There is a chance that there will be more overdoses like this.”

“We can look into who the suspect’s supplier might be.”

“He might not have a supplier here.”

Kim glances at Harry. “Why do you say that?”

“The suspect is Seraise. They said he was bragging about being an aerostatic pilot on leave. Maybe he brought the drugs from the Safre empire, would that be possible to find out?”

“I can look into it.” 

For a moment it is silent except for the sound of Kim’s pen on paper. A motor carriage speeds across the street below. Sodium street lights are switched on as the sky grows darker and stars begin to appear one by one. 

“How long do you think we have until he returns to Safre?”

Kim taps the page with the back of his pen. “It’s hard to tell. He has been here awhile, might be any day now.” 

“He probably won’t come to that club anymore,” Harry adds.

Kim’s eyes crinkle. He is smiling though only you would notice. 

“No,” Kim says, “not after you scared him off.”

“I didn’t scare- I am perfectly capable of flirting.”

“Sure, you are,” Kim replies around his cigarette, his flat words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I am! I was just not his type is all. He must be into twinkles-”

“Twinks,” Kim corrects. “Like our victim.”

“Hm.” Harry exhales a plume of white smoke that dissolves into the night. 

“So Kim, what’s your type? Twinks, bears, otters, cubs, tigers, rabbits?”

Kim’s face remains unreadable but his shoulders tense, the pages of his notebook crinkle under his grip. 

He answers after a brief but notable pause. “I don’t have a type. And you made up the last few at the end.”

“Everyone has a type! Are you saying you have no preferences when it comes to who you find attractive?”

“I’m more interested in personalities.”

“You’re such a fucking liar. Come on Kim.”

“Enough detective. We are still in the middle of our briefing and this is irrelevant to-”

“This is relevant to the case,” Harry insists. 

“Fine,” Kim says begrudgingly. “If I had to describe it, it’s say my taste in men is … questionable.”

“Questionable? What does that mean?”

“It means I’m attracted to men who are bad for me or impossibly out of reach. Now if you are satisfied can we get back to the case?”

Harry smiles. If you are smart about it, you could get more information from Kim. “Well your answer was kind of a cop-out but I’ll let it go for now.”

Kim furrows his brow at Harry, a look that says ‘Don’t you dare.’

You feel your knees buckle under the force of Kim’s glare. You grab the railing with one hand. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my type?”

“I don’t have to. I already know.”

“What? How do you already know?”

Kim turns back to his notebook and pretends to read. “Because it is obvious. You like them young, waifish, and pretty. Someone mysterious and fragile, someone who you can save.”

Someone to be your redemption. 

“That- that's not true- not everyone that-” Harry stutters. Kim’s blatant description of Dora throws you off kilter. Talking about her is taboo. Even though Kim knows about her and what she did to you he had never brought it up. He knows you still have nightmares of her. 

“Well, just in Martinaise there was Klaasje, Lilienne, the smoker on the balcony, and-”

“Wait- the smoker on the balcony?”

Kim raises an eyebrow. “You were smitten. You went on and on about him, ‘he is such a good listener, I felt heard when I talked to him. He smelled so good, how can someone smell so good?” Kim covers his mouth to hide his condescending grin. 

A formless darkness claws inside you. It feels terrible to be judged, to be teased, but you can’t quite put into words what you are feeling, or why

“You sound jealous,” Harry snaps back. 

Kim sighs. “I’m not jealous. I’m a detective and I notice patterns of behaviour.”

“Well you're plain wrong in this case. You’re not like that-”

“I’m not like what?” 

“Like…” Harry’s breath stutters in his chest. Kim isn’t like Dora or Klaasje or Lilienne or the smoker on the balcony. He isn’t like them and still…

You look at Kim’s cigarette and feel a pang of jealousy. You wish to be that cigarette cradled between his lips. You want to burn into ash, you want to be the bitterness on Kim’s tongue. You want to be the smoke filling his lungs, the nicotine flooding his bloodstream. You want to be Kim’s addiction, you want to be part of him, deep and inextricable. 

“I…” A tidal wave of desire crashes through you but you can’t say the words.

Kim snaps his notebook close. “I guess we’ve reached the end of the briefing. Our conversation is no longer productive.” He tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushes the lit ember beneath the heel of his boot. 

His face is unreadable as usual but Kim is upset. 

Damn it. You’ve fucked up Harry. 

Harry follows Kim down the stairs from the roof. 

“I’m sorry Kim, I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry Officer. It’s late and we won’t any more progress today, you should go home early.”

He is lying, if he isn’t mad he wouldn’t call you ‘officer’

[percervall]

you make it rain (but I make it shower)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Words: 834 Request: Lando Norris + Little Mix - Power + fluff/angst Warnings: Christian Horner, sexism

In which you've had enough

---

“They’re only here for the hot drivers,” the RedBull team principal comments as he walks behind you and Lando. The two of you are watching a group of girls exchange friendship bracelets with some of his fellow drivers, their joy audible as the girls make them remember silly moments that have become inside jokes. Something about Horner’s dismissive tone has you seeing red. You feel Lando’s hand on your shoulder, trying to hold you back from doing something stupid –like getting yourself banned from the paddock.

“No, he needs to hear it. I won’t stand for this,” you brush off your best friend, “You’re such an ass, you know?” you call out to Christian Horner. The man stops and turns around.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me. You should be thanking these girls, they’re the reason F1 has gotten as popular as it has. There’s a reason Daniel’s merch is pulling the numbers it does, why Lando’s own merch sells better than the McLaren stuff, or why Ferrari post literal thirst traps on Instagram every race weekend, and it’s not the 40-something-year-old men with beer bellies clad head to toe in RedBull, setting off flares –illegal flares– in the grandstands. The only reason for your success is because of Max and his army of loyal fans. Every single driver in that number 2 seat has failed to live up to your standards, but then again you also don’t offer them a particularly nurturing work environment. I’m not done,” you say as you see him open his mouth to respond, “Your team has the highest driver turnover rate on the grid. It also has some of the worst transparency when it comes to diversity. I know you hate him, but you could learn a thing or two about how Toto runs Mercedes, about Lewis’ dedication to making the sport more welcoming, and also about profit margins. Their car may be shit, but they’re actually making money. They were also one of the first teams to promote F1 Academy, something your own social media team was quite late with. Gee, I wonder why that is. So please forgive me, Christian, when I say that your opinion of girls and female fans of motor sports means absolutely nothing to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you finish your rant as calmly as you can with your heart hammering in your chest, and walk away from him. Behind you, you hear Horner splutter something about Lando needing to keep his friends in check. You can only imagine what Lando’s reply might be to that. The adrenaline of calling out a team principal on his behaviour is beginning to wear off and you can feel your entire body tremble. You almost jump out of your skin when someone wraps an arm around you.

“Sorry, it’s just me nena,” Carlos says as he stears you into the Ferrari garage, “Horner is on a warpath, you’ll be safe here.” Both him and Charles walk with you to Carlos’ driver room. As soon as the door closes behind you, the tears begin to fall.

“I’m fine,” you splutter at their concerned looks, “I’m- f-fine.” Carlos pulls you into a hug while Charles mumbles something about finding Lando.

“How did you find me so quickly?” you ask, face still half buried in his shirt. Carlos chuckles.

“We were right there, signing some things for fans when it all went down.” Taking a deep breath, you pull back and wipe away the tears. “Pretty sure I’m about to get my paddock access revoked,” you joke through your tears.

“They have another thing coming if the FIA decides to do so,” you hear Lando say as he walks into the room. 

“I won’t apologise,” you say adamantly, allowing your best friend to pull you into a hug.

“Good. Besides, what should you apologise for? You didn’t call him names and all of it is true,” Lando replies. 

“I didn’t even tell him that even the grid struggled to name drivers during that grill the grid video,” you mumble into his hoodie, much to the amusement of Lando.

“I don’t think the FIA would dare revoke your pass, nena,” Carlos comments from where he’s looking over Charles’ shoulder at his phone. “Looks like someone’s filmed it. The video is going viral on social media already. From what I can see all the women in the comments are backing you 100%. If they ban you, there will be a riot.” You can’t help but smile at that. Wiping your nose on the sleeve of your sweater, you straighten up and, after saying goodbyes to Carlos and Charles, you walk back out of the Ferrari garage and head towards the McLaren one. Knowing that all the girls in the paddock will have your back, fills you with warmth. Whatever shit was about to come your way, you’d face it with your head held high, back straight and your friends on the grid supporting you no matter what. 

I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't sure where to go with this song at first until @curiousthyme allowed me to just word vomit to her to get ideas and this is the result of that. Had so much fun writing the rant (even my heart was racing by the end of it 🙈)

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes mean the world to me

[seat-safety-switch]

Recently, I watched a little video about how people make elevator buttons. Whereas I had assumed they were punched out of giant machines in huge quantities, they are actually machined to precision and then buffed to an attractive, jewel-like shine by a team of expensive, slow-working, perfectionist artisans. This came as a surprise to me, but then I thought about it medium-hard. Have I ever bought an elevator?

To investigate, I did my best imitation of a building, and called up the elevator-ordering people. I made sure to specify a bunch of bonkers configurations, and then sent them the results of a Google image search for “letter of credit.” Then I waited.

It seemed that I had picked a good elevator manufacturer, because it didn’t arrive right away. In fact, after a couple days of expectantly waiting by my front door, no elevator arrived. Not even a greasy technician, sent to take measurements of my shaft. Eventually, I had to go out and get groceries, and I forgot about the whole thing. That is, until a couple of months later, when my elevator arrived.

The first indication that it had arrived was that the neighbour’s dog, who is clinically diagnosed as being terrified of large geometric solids, started to lose his shit. I stepped outside, just to make sure he hadn’t accidentally triggered on my Lincoln Town Car again, and then I saw it in the driveway. A giant Amazon Prime box. With the help of a ladder and a lot of box cutting, I soon had the elevator out of the shipping container. It was a glorious thing: perfect, unmarked stainless steel. Gleaming, flawless buttons. A whole bunch of fancy wires, all labelled for easy maintenance. Nobody had even peed in it yet.

There was only one problem. I had ordered what I thought was a full elevator, but it was actually only an elevator car. I didn’t have any of the rope and computers and motors that are meant to drive it around. What I had, in fact, was a lot closer to a useless box. That didn’t stop me, though. There’s something else I had: the frame to a 1989 Chevrolet Blazer.

Soon, my elevator car was mobile once again. The buttons even lit up, although at night time they flickered a little bit if I was trying to run them with the sealed beams. I will be the first to admit that my sideways-elevator is not perfect. For one thing, it’s really hard to see out of. And it keeps dinging every time I blow a stop sign. It’s still the prettiest thing I’ve got, and, more importantly, the repo men don’t expect to see the elevator they came to seize do a wheelie and then crush their rental beneath 36-inch mud-terrain tires.

[kpop---scenarios]

Whiplash (3)

Pairing: Felix x Reader x Hyunjin

Genre: Street Racing, Gang, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Violence, Language, Smut [18 + Minors do not interact!]

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List: @sheala--marie @kayleefriedchicken @chartrucewhore @cookiesnmilfx @thicccurls @aznstoner

Part One | Part Two

“You absolutely are not.” Hyunjin deadpans. “It's not safe.” You look at him and Felix with a less than impressed look.

“You guys hid this from me for years, I want to see what it's about.” You tell them. “Not to mention if it's not safe, then neither of you should be going.”

Both men look at each other as you look at Felix with a cute smile on your face, and of course, he caves, in record time too. He grabs your hand, pulling you towards the door with a frustrated Hyunjin in tow. You slide into the backseat of the car as Hyunjin gets into the front with Felix. You were nervous, but you were also excited to see what was going to happen.

You did your best to try and ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as Hyunjin drove to the spot. You had assumed it would be on some busy street, making it even more dangerous, but it wasn't. The three of you pull up to an abandoned road that is hidden by some trees. It went on for miles with a few curves, so to the racers, it was absolutely perfect.

“Y/N.” Hyunjin starts as he parks the car. “Stay behind us, please. There's a lot of dangerous people that will be here, and if we're not around, find one of the guys.” He says. The three of you get out of the car, walking towards the large circle of people that has gathered. There were even more people than at the party, you couldn't believe how popular this was.

“Who's racing?” You ask, linking your fingers with Felix and Hyunjin on the other side of you. The two men glance at each other, avoiding your question as they pull you through the crowd and into the middle of the circle, where San and his group stand across from the group of your friends. your stomach sinks as you watch each of them eye each other up. They all looked like they were ready to start and all out fight.

“Racers, step forward.” Someone yells. You watch as San steps away from his group, standing in front of them, with another man you didn't know. Chan and Changbin turn to look at Felix and Hyunjin, they both let go of your hands, each one giving you a small kiss before stepping out in the front, standing in front of San and the other man.

“They're racing? No, Chan, please. What if something happens?” You ask. He looks at you with an apologetic look. “Look, They're the best. They'll be okay, promise.” Chan half smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, giving you a small squeeze. You watch as Hyunjin and Felix get into a car you didn't recognize, Felix sitting behind the steering wheel. The cars start, both revving their engines as they wait for the flag to drop.

Seconds later, it drops, and all the tires squeal as they peel down the road, the cars drifting from the force. They leave your sight almost in a blur. You could barely hear the cheers of the crowd as your heart pounded in your ears. You were terrified something was going to happen to them. That couldn't happen. You had just gotten them. You needed more time. You reach down, grasping to Chan's hand as you listen to the revving of the engines, sounding so far away. Your grip doesn't loosen, especially in the minutes you stand there waiting to hear something, anything. You wanted to hear a motor, an engine, as long as it wasn't a crash. Please, don't let them crash. You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you hear the cars coming closer. Your eyes shoot open, seeing them just around the corner, the red car Hyunjin and Felix are in, now taking the lead. Your grip tightens on Chan's hand as you watch them come closer and closer. You can see San screaming and swearing inside the car, hitting the steering wheel as Felix and Hyunjin cross the finish line seconds before him.

Felix and Hyunjin exit the car, victory grins spread across their faces. Seconds later, a crowd gathers around them, cheering them on. You let go of Chan's hand, running towards the group, pushing your way through the crowd, standing in front of them before they both wrap their arms around you. As everyone celebrates, you can vaguely hear San yelling about something.

“Nah, fuck them man, they fucking cheated.” He yells, pointing to Felix and Hyunjin. As you look up, San pushes through the crowd, shoving people out of his way until he stands face to face with Felix and Hyunjin. He doesn't say anything to them, just stares at them, fuming and vibrating with anger.

“How the fuck did you cheat?” He yells, shoving Hyunjin, which almost knocks you down but Felix catches you.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Felix yells, grabbing onto your wrist, guiding you behind him.

“You two are my fucking problem.” He snaps. “There's no way you should have fucking won that, it's bullshit.” San snaps.

“Take the loss man, next time, just try to make sure you're better.” Felix smiles, patting San on the shoulder which very clearly pisses him off even more. San lunges for Felix. Felix is pushed back by San, hitting into you, knocking you into the ground. Felix turns his head, glancing at you quickly to make sure you're okay before he looks back at San. Before he can do anything, Chan is grabbing onto the sleeve of Felix to pull him away. “Cops!” He yells, pulling Felix and Hyunjin who is now helping you up. You're all running to the car, sliding in without seat belts as Hyunjin speeds off, kicking up rocks as he leaves the parking lot. The three of you pass 4 cop cars with their lights on and sirens blaring as they head towards the abandoned street. Worry fills up your stomach as you look back at them, watching them turn, and hoping they don't turn around to come after you.

the three of you pull up to the house, and you feel like you can breathe. While being stressed out, you also felt an amazing sense of adrenaline rushing through your body.

“Wow!” You exclaim as the three of you walk into the house. “You guys do that all the time?” You ask. They nod nod their heads.b

“I was so fucking nervous when you guys started racing, but the scattering before the cops got there was such a rush!”

“We get that all the time during the races.” Felix laughs.

Your eyes go wide. “Can I be in the car during one?” You ask.

Both men look at each other, unsure of how to answer. “Let us uh, think about that.” Hyunjin smiles.

“Thank you for bringing me and letting me into your world.” You smile, kissing each of them on the cheek. “Where are the others?”

“Probably at the clubhouse. They stay there often.”

“You have a clubhouse too!? What the fuck.” You laugh. “Anything else you wanna tell me?” You ask, letting out a big yawn.

“Come on, let's go to bed.” Felix says, guiding you to his room. You wondered how this was going to work, especially between the three of you. You walk onto the room, Felix begins rummaging through his drawers and then hands you a large t-shirt.

“You can wear this to bed.” He smiles as he and Hyunjin take off their shirts. You swear you would have started drooling if you hadn't stopped yourself.

“fuuuck.” You whisper as you wander to the bathroom to change.

“You know you don't have to change in there. We are your boyfriends.” Hyunjin yells through the door.

“Is that what you are? I thought we were friends.” You joke back. Yes, they were your boyfriends but it had just happened that night. You were going from best friends who had only seen you in your underwear and a bra by accident to being with them and being fully naked. It felt surreal and you would need time to remember that you're not just friends anymore. You come out of the bathroom, Felix’s shirt hanging off your body. Both men smile at you as they lay on opposite sides of the bed, your spot in the middle waiting for you. You let out another big yawn as you crawl into the bed, getting under the covers. You lay on your side, facing Hyunjin as Felix scoots closer to you, spooning you.

You want to talk to them more, be awake with them but you're exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off now. You close your eyes, only wanting too for a second but you fall asleep almost instantly with two men wrapped around your body.

The next morning you wake up, feeling slightly empty. You open one eye, seeing Hyunjin was already out of the bed and gone. It was just you and Felix, whose hard chest was pressed right up against you, along with something else that was hard, pressed against your ass. You close your eyes again, wiggling yourself against him, listening to his breathy moans in your ear as you press against him harder.

“Fuck. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He groans, rolling himself over, pinning your hands down to the best. He leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You take no time deepening the kiss, opening your mouth to let his tongue slide in. Felix lowers himself onto you even more, rubbing his hard cock on you, teasing you. You break the kiss, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please.” You gasp.

“Do you need more, baby?” He asks, a smirk on his face. You nod your head as he moves his body down yours. He lifts up your shirt, exposing your naked pussy. “I've been wondering how you taste.” He whispers as you lift your legs and spread them for him. Felix positions his face between your legs, moving in to lick a small strip up your pussy, causing you to gasp and buck your hips. He holds you down as he uses the tip of his tongue, gently flicking your clit, making you desperate for more.

“Please.. more.” You cry out, trying to grind yourself against his face. You can hear him chuckle into your pussy as he starts rolling his tongue against you, managing to get an almost perfect suction. You lift up your shirt, exposing your tits. You roll your nipples between your fingers as Felix uses the flat part of his tongue to lick you hard, moving up the length of your slit until he latches his lips to your clit, sucking hard.

“Oh fuck.” You cry out, trying harder to grind against his face. You could feel your orgasm bubbling up inside of you and you needed him to move faster. “Faster. Please. Fuck.” You gasp, your hands moving to his head, grasping onto a clump of his hair. Felix's tongue moves faster switching between swirling, licking and flicking your clit. He easily slides two fingers inside of you bringing your orgasm faster.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum.. I'm cumming.” You cry out, your hips buck up as he continues sucking on your clit, helping you ride your high just a little longer. You let go of his hair, running your hands through your own hair as you try to catch your breath.

“That was so fucking hot.” Felix says, licking all the cum from his face. He quickly gets rid of his boxers, sitting down on the bed. You crawl over to him, licking your lips at the sight of his large, hard cock standing up for you. You wrap your mouth around the tip, swirling your tongue around it, licking up the pre-cum that had been dripping from him. You inch down his cock, little by little until he hits the back of your throat. Felix groans, thrusting his cock deeper, making you gag. You pull your mouth off of him and he leans back, leaning against his headboard. You move closer to him again, crawling up to him, squatting over his cock. You line yourself up, slowly sinking yourself down on him. You gasp loudly as he stretches you out. You throw your head back as you sit on him, slowly rocking back and forth. Felix places his hands on your hips, rocking you faster. He leans forward, wrapping his lips around your already perky nipple, sucking hard as you begin to bounce on his cock. He releases your nipple, holding you up to instead quickly thrust inside of you. You moan louder and louder with each thrust.

“Be louder for me, baby.” Felix groans, feeling his own orgasm coming quickly. You moan louder, crying out in pleasure as he fucks you harder and faster.

“Shit I'm gonna cum.” He grunts.

“Cum in my pussy. Please fuck cum in me.” You cry out, your own orgasm exploding through your body, tightening yourself around his cock. Seconds later Felix cums deep inside you.

You sit on his cock for a second, catching your breath until you finally roll off, your legs feeling like complete jello.

“I need to shower.” You breathe, trying to crawl out of the bed. You slowly make your way to the bathroom, only closing the door behind you before you turn on the water to hot.

As you wet your hair and rub the water all over your body, you hear the bathroom door open and then shut.

“Hello?” you call out. No one answers. The shower curtain is pulled back, revealing a naked and hard Hyunjin.

“Can I join you?” He smirks. A grin plasters on your face as you nod your head yes. Your pussy was sore, but you would never say no to either of them and if you ever did, something was wrong with you.

Hyunjin walks into the shower with you, grabbing your body and pulling you into him. He leans in, kissing you on the lips for a second, before moving to your neck and chest. As he peppers you with kisses you reach out, grabbing his cock. He moans in your ear as you gently jerk him, his head now resting in the crook of your neck. He pulls your hand off of him, turning you around and bending you over. your hands are on the wall of the shower as he shoves two fingers inside of you, making you cry out.

Fuck you felt needy. You desperately needed his cock to slide inside you right at that moment.

“Fuck me, please Hyunjin.” You beg.

“Mhmm that's what I like to hear.” He groans. He lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing his cock inside of you.

“Holy shit.” You cry out, holding onto the wall a little harder. For a second he starts out slow, but then he pulls out of you before ramming his cock back inside of you, over and over again. He reaches around you, grabbing your tit as he thrusts deep inside you. His hand moves down your stomach, making its way between your lips, to your clit. He begins rubbing you, he loves feeling you squirm from it while his cocks inside you.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good.” He groans, rubbing your clit a little faster. You can feel your orgasm building quickly.

“Shit.. harder.” You cry out. He manages to fuck you harder and faster, until you finally cum, all over his cock.

“That's my girl.” He groans, his hands now on your hips as he rams his cock deeper and deeper. Your arms were getting weak from holding the wall now, you were exhausted and ready for a nap. Hyunjin rams himself into a few more times before pulling out, jerking his cock until he cums all over your back.

“Fuuuck.” He moans, as he milks himself for all his cum. You're breathing heavily as you stand up, your whole body shaking. Hyunjin quickly cleans off your back for you, making you laugh.

“Why did you cum on my back?” You ask.

“I just.. wasn't sure.” He chuckles.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear. “Next time, cum inside me.” You whisper, turning off the water and getting out of the shower. You wrap a towel around your body and your hair, stepping out into the room, Felix nowhere in there. Hyunjin comes out behind you, kissing your shoulder before heading to his own room to get dressed.

You put on your outfit from the night before and head out into the living room. The boys are all sitting around, while Chan is on the phone. Changbin, Han and Seungmin look at you, wiggling their eyebrows and snickering.

“Oh whatever.” You scoff, laughing with them. You had been a little loud this morning.

“Everything okay?” Changbin asks Chan, who sits in a chair, looking annoyed.

“San has requested a rematch. He wants to race you two again at a different spot.” He explains.

“We're not betting the mods again.” Felix deadpans.

“Nah, $50k this time.” Hyunjin and Felix nod their heads as you stand there with your mouth hanging open.

“I'm sorry.” You say. “Fifty thousand.. as in dollars?” You ask.

“Yes..” Chan replies. “Dollars.” He looks towards Hyunjin and Felix. “He sent the coordinates. Google it, check it out and make sure you know the route.”

“When's the race?” Han asks.

“Tonight.” Chan sighs.

**

Hours later you return to the house, in a fresh set of clothes and a pair of pj's and another set of clothes ready incase you end up staying the night again. Both Felix and Hyunjin insisted that you sit this one out tonight but there was absolutely no way you were missing it. As you, Felix and Hyunjin drove to the spot, the car was quiet. You were slightly worried that they were mad at you for not listening but you didn't speak up. You didn't want to upset them more before the race. An hour later, the three of you pull into an empty parking lot, drive through to the woods to find a very large crowd of people waiting.

San and his group were already there, drinking and being rowdy and you were nervous.

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out before getting out of the car. They both turn their heads to look at you.

“What?” Hyunjin asks.

“No?” Felix answers.

“Okay, just wanting to make sure.” You smile, hopping out of the car. You make your way through the crowd, finding Jeongin and Lee Know, grabbing onto their hands as Felix and Hyunjin stand before San.

“No fucking cheating this time.” San yells, pointing at the two. They just laugh, heading for the car that Han brought, the same one that made them win last time.

You watch all they rev their engines, waiting to be able to go. You see before the flag drops, San has already started moving. It drops and Felix and Hyunjin go, already behind San. You were worried now and wondered if you were the only one to notice that San cheated. You hear the squeals of the tires as they turn corners. It felt like a lifetime before they came back into view, Felix and Hyunjin in first place. They pass the finish line, with San only seconds behind. You run through the crowd to greet them and congratulate them but that worried feeling hasn't gone away. San comes storming over, again, yelling about them cheating. As he raises a fist, not even letting them talk first you step up.

“Why are you trying to pass the blame, San?” You yell. “I saw you. You started going before the fucking flagged dropped.”

You can hear everyone murmuring, talking amongst themselves about what you said. San looks around at everyone glaring at it.

“I didn't fucking cheat!” San yells, looking around at everyone.

“Did anyone record it?” You ask. Someone puts their hand up, bringing their phone to you.

“Why don't you just shut the fuck up!?” San screams, shoving you hard. You fall back, your head cracking on a large rock that was behind you. Hyunjin and Felix are at your side, you're unconscious, blood spilling from your head.

“Someone help her! Please!”

[soaps-mohawk]

141 with an omega with BIG, SOFT titties?

Prepare to get motor-boated. A lot.

They're men, obviously they're not gonna complain. It's the first thing they're gonna notice, and you bet your ass as soon as its acceptable in their relationship, they're fighting over who gets to lay their head on your titties. You're now their favorite pillow. Sitting? Boob snuggles. Laying down? Extra comfy boob snuggles. Lots of hugs and cuddles just to feel them pressed up against their own chests.

As soon as they see you running the first time? Expect to run a lot around them. They're just looking out for your form and timing your speed. Absolutely not just because they like to watch the way your body moves.

Johnny is definitely a boobs guy so rip you, he will be absolutely insufferable. As soon as the relationship moves that far, his hand is up your shirt constantly. Together in his room? Tits out is the rule. Makes you spoon him when you sleep together so he can feel them squished up against his back.

[delicatebarness]

i think he knows | chapter nine

Summary: As the sneaking continues, some secrets are revealed.

Warnings: Two perspectives are used. A few uses of Y/N. A lot of dialogue between multiple characters. Mentions/Implied Underage Sex. Our girlie is sad again.

Word Count: 1498

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Series’ Spotify Playlist

A/N: I wrote this chapter while sitting in a van watching big sweaty men run around with guns (all I pictured all day was winter soldier) 🤤 I edited once I got home and had calmed myself down. 🙈

Tags: @bigtreefest | @caplanbuckybarnes | @angelbabyyy99 | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @cjand10 | @armystay89 | @itvy5601 |

Bucky's words hung in the air, it prompted a sense of anticipation. You nodded as meeting his gaze, both curiosity and concern rushed through you.

"What is it?" you asked softly, as the gravity of his tone set in.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to take your hand in his. "I know this isn't ideal," he started, looking down at your hand rather than into your eyes he began to rub circles against your skin.

"Us, um, sneaking around, keeping this hidden." You listened intently, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

"But," he continued, his gaze found its way back to yours. "I also know that being with you is worth it." His vulnerability took you by surprise, warming your heart. "I want to make this work."

With a small smile, you squeezed his hand, silently giving him the reassurance he needed to tell you what was on his mind. 

~

"What are we doing here?" Peter asked while looking up at the 'Stark's Motor's' sign above the rundown car and bike garage. "You know this is Tony Stark's family's business right? Tony Stark as in Bucky Barnes' friend?" Wanda had been curious about the tension between the two groups of friends, she sensed that it was deeper than simply, different personalities.

"Can I help you with something?" Tony asked as he looked Peter and Wanda up and down. They seemed familiar to him but he couldn't quite place them. Wanda looked around Tony, noticing the rest of the group gathered on sofas behind him.

Just as she expected, Bucky Barnes, for being the so-called 'leader' of the group, wasn't to be seen.

"We know about the bets," Wanda stated, gaining the attention of the whole group. The smirks that found their way to their faces proved to Wanda and Peter that the rumors were true. Concern for their friend became evident between them.

"What bets?" Natasha Romanoff questioned them, her tone guarded.

"When you bet each other on how far you can get with someone," Peter interjected before Wanda could, his voice rushed.

"What about them? You want in or something?" Loki, Peter recognized as the younger brother of Thor, questioned with a mischievous smile. He noticed that he was the only one of the gang who would ever show their face to the game.

"No," Wanda began to make her way around the service counter, moving closer to the group of friends. "We want you to tell us what our friend did to deserve being a part of your games," she demanded, standing her ground.

Natasha rolled her eyes before standing up, closing the distance between herself and Wanda in an attempt to intimidate her. "Who's your friend?" she asked curiously while crossing her arms over her chest.

"Y/N Rogers," Peter answered for Wanda, she was intensely looking up at Natasha with furrowed brows. "Steve Rogers' little sister." A silence surrounded the garage at the mention of Rogers.

"She's been on the off-limits list for, what, two years now?" Peter Quill spoke up while looking around the group of his friends. The worst 'bad boy' in the group had, barely got into any trouble, and wasn't mischievous; he just liked to tell jokes and wear a red leather jacket.

"What's the off-limits list?" They asked Quill simultaneously, snapping their heads in his direction. Catching the moment Stark punched him in the arm, he had said too much. 

Sighing, Natasha seemingly began to relax more around the other students, going back to where she had previously been sitting. “The list of people we, under no circumstances, are allowed to bet on,” she explained, her voice still hinting at the annoyance the pair was causing. “She’s been on that list since her first day of freshman year?” she continued, looking around at her friends to confirm the amount of time. They all nodded in agreement. 

“Too bad the same couldn’t have been said for her brother,” a sense of amusement in Stark’s voice as he spoke under his breath. 

“Oh yeah, Natasha lost Buck some real cash on that one.” Quill laughed before taking a drink from the bottle he’d been nursing since Wanda and Peter arrived. 

Wanda and Peter shot each other a glance, a silent conversation of understanding happening between them. As they exchanged the silent vow to uncover more, they turned about to the group, knowing they were diving into dangerous waters. Bucky and his friends were the most feared pack in the school, only Steve and his friends weren’t worried about getting on their bad side. Even then, a few of them still watched their backs.

“We need to know everything,” Wanda exclaimed, causing the group to bring their attention back to the younger peers. 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, but there was a slight hint of respect for the girl. “You two don’t know when to quit, do you?” she muttered under her breath. Ignoring Natasha’s remark, the two friends stood their ground. Not moving until someone talked. 

~

Bucky hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounded. “Back in freshman year, I… I made a bet with Natasha,” he admitted. 

Your brow furrowed with confusion, “What kind of bet?” You asked, voice trembling slightly, you felt like you already knew the answer. Hearing it aloud, you feared it would make it real. 

His gaze dropped from yours as he swallowed hard, “I bet that she couldn’t sleep with Steve,” he confessed, your hand dropped from him as your body went into a state of shock. Your mind went back to the night before, how he reassured you that you weren’t a part of it. You remember now that he never denied the fact that they do make bets. “I didn’t think she would do it, Y/N,” he looked up, his eyes filled with remorse as he called you by your name rather than his nickname for you. 

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over your heart pounding. “If you didn’t think she would, why did you?”

“We were freshmen, we were just having fun,” he sighed, trying to defend himself and the friends he saw as family. “He was an easy target back, a try-hard, it was supposed to be a joke,” he ran a hand through his hair, as he rushed his words. 

The weight of his confession sank into your bones. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Disbelief surged through you, you couldn’t process everything at once. His reasoning only added to the turmoil swirling inside. 

There was a silence settling between you, your breathing and the background noise for the diner was the only sound. The image of Steve, oblivious to the wager placed on him, added another layer of hurt. 

You finally found your voice, it trembled as you held back tears. Not only were you hurting for your brother but, you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Bucky was lying about you. “How could you?” you questioned.

“I know I messed up,” Bucky’s voice softened, his hand reaching out as if to bridge the growing distance. “I mean, it’s most likely the main reason he wants me nowhere near you,” his words trailed off, and you turned away. 

You looked everywhere but in Bucky’s direction, afraid of the tears threatening to spill. “I’m guessing she then discarded him like he never mattered?” you asked, recounting the warning Steve had given you about Bucky and his friends. 

Another sigh from Bucky. “After everything, Steve caught feelings for her but it was just a game to her so she ignored him and has since,” he explained as he played with the straw in his milkshake glass. “It wasn’t until a couple of months later that he found out it was a bet, a bet that I started,” he began mumbling to himself about wishing he had a smoke or a drink before continuing. “We’ve never been okay since, which I understand on some level, but, he came out stronger I guess,” the confused look behind your teary eyes made his heart clench. “That was when he suddenly gained muscle and became the star athlete he is today.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, you struggled to hear it yourself as you tried to find the words. 

Bucky nodded, he understood that telling you would have been painful. He saw the amount of compassion and empathy you carried in your heart, he knew it was risky for him to tell you the truth. He wished he could tell you, we fought once over nothing but stupid boy stuff, but, he couldn’t.

“I understand,” he replied softly, his head dropped landing his gaze on the table between you. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and Steve. I just, I don’t want there to be secrets between us as well.” Even though your heart ached for your brother and Bucky’s confession, you offered him a small nod.

- - -

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[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 13

Summary: You are kidnapped in the middle of the night while the two of you are camped out a little too close to fiend territory. Cooper finds you and makes them pay the price for taking you in the first place.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst and Violence. Dark themes. Cooper is not a happy camper. Forced drug use and sexual assault but no rape. Blood and death.

Part 2 -> HERE

Masterlist

It's been a week since the fiend leader Motor Runner and his crew of misfits had captured you. It'd been in the middle of the night, Cooper asleep and you on second watch. Your mind was already drowsy, and you hadn't been paying the best attention to your surroundings when you'd wondered off to take a pee that night. Four of them had jumped you, stuffing a dirty sock in your mouth and spraying some type of chem in your face that made you pass out within seconds.

Since then, they've kept you hopped up on a concoction of drugs. It was mostly a mix of jet and med-x, drugs that made you feel calm and foggy brained. Motor Runner had learned quickly that he couldn't touch you unless you'd been double dosed and restrained, wrists lashed behind you as you kneeled by his throne made of human skeletons They'd taken your clothes early on, leaving you in nothing but the thin underclothes to protect your modesty.

Cooper had woken that morning and found you gone, but your things still left behind. Panic and anger had set in immediately, and the ghoul gathered everything up before he started to follow the tracks that led into the destroyed city that surrounded the Strip. It was slow going. The ruins were rife with all kinds of surprises, and he'd had to fall back more than once after getting overwhelmed by a gang of fiends.

However, he'd finally arrived at Vault 3, and nothing was going to stop Cooper from getting you back.

You swayed side to side, high as a kite, and so drugged up that you weren't sure which was was up and which was down. The world spun around you, making you feel sick as bile curdled in your stomach. Motor Runner was saying something, but you couldn't be bothered to pay much attention. Your hearing felt muffled, but you could feel the vibrations of some type of explosion going off further up the Vault.

"Hear that, bitch? Sounds like someone actually tried to come save you. It's soo fuckin' bad that they'll never make it down here."

A gritty hand grabbed your jaw, and cool metal was pressed to your temple, digging in hard enough that it cut into your flesh. Blood wells up and drips down your chin to mix with the other disgusting fluids and gunk that stains your front. Your jaw aches, but you know better than to fight against what the fiend leader wants from you.

Cooper tosses another grenade down the hall, a terrible grin on his lips as the fiends scream in pain, shrapnel shredding through their flesh and sending blood splattering the walls. His side arm flashes in the dim red lighting of the vault, and Cooper relished in the carnage that he leaves behind him. The fiends deserved worse than death, and he would happily be the one to deliver their silence.

They put up more and more of a fight the deeper he went inside the Vault. The ghoul ducks into an abandoned room and quickly reloads, sliding rounds into the chamber with steady hands before he ducks back out into the hallway to blow away three unlucky men that'd been charging down the hallway with pool sticks.

One of them gasps for air, but he's still alive, so Cooper stops for half a second to haul the man up, slamming him against the wall. The bounty hunter's face is stained with red, and the fiend howls in agony when Coop digs his his finger into the bullet wound on the raiders' side.

"Where the fuck is she?" He spits and shakes the man when all he can do is cry, "Answer me you son of a bitch!"

"Down! Motor Runner has the bitch!" the man eventually screams and Cooper puts him down like he would a rapid dog. On he went, dropping fiends and tossing explosives when he could. The walls were painted red by his actions, and the entire vault looked like a murder scene by the time he'd made it to the lowest level.

Tears fell from your eyes as Motor Runner used your mouth, his heavy cock sliding in and out as he takes pleasure in using you. He grunts and moans like an animal, and you have never felt so shamed and disgraced before in your life. You gag around his length, and a sick combination of precum and drool drips from the side of you mouth to mingle with the blood already there.

This is the scene that Cooper arrives to, his features pulled down into an awful snarl as he points his hand cannon at Motor Runner. He takes you in, your bare chest, and the thin panties you wear that hardly cover anything. The fear and broken, defeated look that you wear across your beautiful face.

"Ha! Nice job gettin' down here, Rotter!" The fiend leader hisses and snaps his hips, vulger curves spewing from his lips, "Just in time to watch me cum down your cunt's throat."

Cooper hears you whine and watches you clench your eyes shut. He can hardly see through the film of red that covers his vision, so raged filled that his hand shakes from how tightly he holds his side arm. Motor Runner still has a pistol pressed against your temple, smart enough to not take any chances.

"She ain't yours, Fucker," Cooper snarls right back and takes a couple of steps forward, only to stop when the raider jerked you around to kneel in front of him, on display like come kind of fucked up prize. The fiend scoffs at him.

"Doesn't look like it's your cock in your mouth right now, does it?"

Even drugged and out of it, you can still register what's going on, and hateful shame fills you up to your core. With a vault full of fiends, fighting back had felt hopeless, but seeing Cooper made rage build up and bubble over. Motor Runner had made a mistake when he pulled his attention away from you, and you took your change the second You felt the barrel against your temple go slack.

Cooper watched as Motor Runner's face went white, a silent scream falling past his lips as you bite down as hard as you can. Your teeth pierce his dick, and blood wells up in your mouth as the fiend rips away from you. You fall back, jaw aching at you hit the ground with a thud. You grunt when the back of your head hits the concrete floor, and you see stars.

The ghoul dashes forward, grabbing you the arm to haul you to his side while the fiend wallows on the floor, his hands grabbing at his dick that hangs limp between his legs. Cooper fishes out his knife and cuts the rope around your hands, and you move before he can make sure that you're okay.

You fling yourself on top of the fiend, pinning him down with your knees on his shoulders as you wrap your hands around his throat. You use every ounce of strength you have left, squeezing and watching the life fade out of the man's eyes before you roll off his cooling body, laying on your back as you cry and stare up at the ceiling.

Cooper carefully picks his way over to you, crouching by your side and gently gathering you up and in his arms. You don't fight him and only cry harder when you pick up his familiar scent when you shove your face in the crook of his neck. You shiver and shake, relief filling your body as your ghoul holds you tightly.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you, babygirl," Cooper rumbles, but you shake your head. You didn't care, the ghoul had come for you, and that's all that mattered. He gathers your frame up and stands with a soft grunt.

"Let's get outta here."

[captainrogers-thepatriot]

@nessiesbarnes

A teenage Steve and Bucky stood in a small boat fixing the boats motor. It was there summer job every year. It was there way to bring in some extra cash and mainly keep Steve out of trouble.

The two talked, often talking about the girls they liked and the Dodgers. Sometimes they would talk about their families and plot out what they thought there futures would be like.

At this time Steve was planning to go to a city college when he graduated and study art. It was something his mother wanted him to do, to be given the chance to follow his dream. He loved art, but it was more of a hobby for him. He wanted to do more with his life, he wanted to do something that made a difference but he wasn't sure what he could do. His mom wanted him to be safe and not put himself in dangerous situations, she saw art as a safe career.

Bucky wanted to go to school, but he knew with the war in full swing he was likely to get drafted. Part of him was excited by the opportunity to serve his country, another part of him was scared. He had never fought more than three men at a time, being in a full blown war was another level.

The two boys saw a bright light on the dock. They watched curiously as two mysterious people appeared.

There was a woman in her early 20s with messy brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin. She dressed in a tomboyish style, yet was clearly extremely beautiful. The man next to her seemed to be around the same age. He had short blonde hair and brown eyes. He wore a jersey of his favorite football team and blue jeans.

The woman was Bucky's future daughter and the man would one day be Steve's son. Both whom traveled to meet their parents as children.

Bucky and Steve looked at the visitors with shock and with awe. They were speechless.

"I think we are in the wrong time." Jay said to Nessa.

[snootlestheangel]

After the events of Las Almas and everything involving Shepherd gets fixed, Task Force 141 and Shadow Company are forced to spend 8 weeks together (minimum) to repair trust and regain their alliance.

These are some Incorrect Quotes from during the 141's stay. (Moose belongs to @cod-dump )

Graves: All right, Shadows! Welcome to Ceremony Day for Shadow Olympics. Unfortunately, this year we have... guests. The military and government, in their infinite wisdom, have decided we need to repair our alliance with some of Britain's forces. In other words, it's a government ordered get-along-shirt with *long pause* Task Force 141. *loud booing from the Shadows* Graves: Yes, Flash? Flash: I am new here, so why do we hate them? *everyone is now suddenly very awkward* *Woody leans over and whispers the answer to Flash* Flash: Nevermind, sir! *sits back down* Graves: This is gonna be awful

*Ghost is watching something with interest on their third day at Shadow Base* Soap: Watcha lookin' at, Lt? Ghost: *wordlessly points* Soap: You're watchin' one of the Shadows... run laps?? Ghost: Yes. For the last twenty minutes. Soap: Oh god... Ghost: I don't think he plans on stopping anytime soon, either. *Flash runs by and waves dramatically before speeding up* Soap and Ghost: What the fuck?

*Soap has found himself in the motor pool* Soap: Damn, this truck is nice! Truck, appearing behind him: It is, but you aren't, so get the fuck out of my shop. Soap: But I've never seen an American HEMTT before!! Truck, skeptical: You know what kind of truck this is? Soap: Hell yeah! *an hour later* Graves: It seems like everyone's getting along okay, so far. Price, scowling: Sure, we'll go with that. It's not at all like your Shadows are terrorizing my men. Graves: That's a bold accusation- What the fuck? *they both look over to see Truck telling Soap all about the HEMTT and Soap is loving every second* Price: Is that an issue? Graves: Truck doesn't like anyone in his shop... Soap, notices them: PRICE LOOK AT THIS FUCKING TRUCK!! IT GOT COMPLETELY DESTROYED AND TRUCK HERE COMPLETELY REDID IT FROM SCRATCH!! ISN'T THAT SO COOL?! CAN WE GET A TRUCK LIKE THIS?? Price: Absolutely not! Graves, doubled over: The world is ending...

*Another day of Ghost watching Flash run cause he's afraid of the power this kid has* Woody, walking with Moose: I don't think Ghost has any ill intentions here, okay? Moose: You don't know that! Woody: Give me one reason to believe Ghost isn't a good guy. Moose, shaking and pointing: He watches Flash run and I don't know why. *Ghost is standing there with his arms crossed and blatantly watching Flash* Woody: Oh, yeah he does. That's... normal, right? I mean we all watched Flash run like this when he was brand new. Moose: But- *can't form words to convey his concern for Flash's safety* Woody: Tell ya what, I'll get Graves to talk to their captain about getting Ghost to stop. In the meantime, just hang out here and keep an eye on the kid if you're so worried. Moose: Uh, okay... Sure, I'll stay here by myself with The Ghost and be the only thing keeping Flash safe. *Woody shakes his head with a laugh and leaves* *Ghost gets the uncomfortable feeling he's being watched* *looks over to see Moose glaring daggers at him* Ghost, thinking: God that guy really hates me, doesn't he? Maybe I should show I'm actually concerned this kid's gonna drop halfway through his laps... yeah, that'll work, right? Shadows are loyal to each other. Moose, thinking: I'm so fucking scared right now, but if he makes one move towards Flash I'll- I'll kill him! Ghost, calling out to Flash: You need a water break! Flash: Oh shit, you right! *runs over to where Ghost is standing to get his water* Moose, terrified so it comes out harsh: Flash sets a timer on his watch for water breaks. Ghost: Oh, right. Just wanted to make sure he's not overworking himself. Flash, oblivious: 'S okay, Moose! My timer was about to go off anyways! Moose: *grunts* Ghost, thinking again as Moose all but glares at him: Well that backfired... Moose, also thinking: He's gonna fucking kill me, oh god, oh shit, Flash run! Flash, sipping his water and looking between them thinking: What am I witnessing? Is this power play? What even is that?

*Gaz and Soap talking while outside during the sunset* Soap: Have you had a conversation with that kid they call Flash, yet? Gaz: YES! Oh my god, I thought you talked. He's really nice but holy shit can he talk. *they look over upon hearing something in the water* *It's Ness crawling out of the pool in his full wetsuit* *Soap and Gaz scream cause they don't recognize him as a person* Ness: What?! Gaz: You're fucking terrifying! Soap: I wanna go home...

[ms-demeanor]

it's hard to find legitimate data on risks associated with alcohol--a lot of results from religious organizations w/ vested financial interest in evangelical cult-type shit comes up when i try. i drink heavily occasionally, mostly because i just really like the experience of getting blasted with close friends once every few months--any advice on tracking down actual *reputable* data on the risks of that?

(tamping down on the urge to anonymously defend my actions in my favorite anarchism blogger's inbox but i *will* allow myself to defensively note that i never drink to the point of blacking out or puking. this isn't really relevant to the question i just have brain problems where i feel compelled to defend myself against imaginary assumptions.)

Okay i want to start this out by pointing out that I'm not particularly judgemental about drug use. Any drug use.

Basically, you do you. As long as you're not drinking and driving or otherwise doing harm (for instance, attempting to provide childcare while too intoxicated to do so safely) the only thing you have to worry about is what alcohol is doing to *you* and I was a smoker for like twenty years knowing full well how awful for me it was. If you want to drink and you know the risks, do what you want.

So, all that said, I mean this very gently (because it's clear that this is a sensitive issue for you) but it is not particularly difficult to find good data about risks associated with alcohol from sources less biased than American evangelicals.

For some research on the overall risks of alcohol consumption, here are some good, comprehensive, recent papers about the effects of alcohol on both individuals and populations.

Risk thresholds for alcohol consumption: combined analysis of individual-participant data for 599,912 current drinkers in 83 prospective studies

Population-level risks of alcohol consumption by amount, geography, age, sex, and year: a systematic analysis for the Global Burden of Disease Study 2020

Alcohol consumption and risks of more than 200 diseases in Chinese men

Getting occasionally blasted with friends is what's called "binge drinking" - which is defined as five or more drinks within two hours for men or four or more drinks in two hours for women, or reaching a BAC of .08 (the legal limit for driving in the US). This is a lot lower than most people think of when they think of "binge drinking" - that's five beers, an average bottle of wine, or two strong cocktails like a long island iced tea. Five or more drinks wouldn't put most people into blacking out or puking territory, and if you're a seasoned drinker a BAC of .08 may not feel like anything over the top or ridiculous, but it is a drinking binge nonetheless and there are specific risks associated with binge drinking. Here are some write-ups on binge drinking specifically:

Binge drinking: Burden of liver disease and beyond

Binge Drinking’s Effects on the Body

Effects of Repeated Binge Drinking on Blood Pressure Levels and Other Cardiovascular Health Metrics in Young Adults

I get the urge to feel defensive, it sounds like this is something that's concerning you and from the tone of your ask it seems like this is something that you were not aware of and has made you uneasy. (And it sounds like you're around a lot of people who ARE judgemental about alcohol consumption for reasons that have to do with them imposing their morality on you, which is a shitty position to be in)

But hey i wouldn't be a very good marginal anarchist if I wasn't about making sure that people have informed interactions with the world.

I still go out and get shitfaced every once in a while because it's fun and there are things that I can do to mitigate the risks (like making sure I'm around safe people, don't have access to a motor vehicle, and don't do it often) but I do so with the awareness that what I am doing could have some pretty bad consequences and I need to make sure to watch out for my health to keep an eye on the systems that drinking like that might impact. If you're gonna drink, you should be keeping an eye on yourself generally. If you're gonna drink heavily (even if it's only every couple of months), you have got to keep an eye on your liver, pancreas, and heart specifically.

[natalievoncatte]

“Careful with that! We have to assume everything here is dangerous.”

Lena would have preferred to be anywhere else. The last thing she wanted to occupy her afternoon was dealing with yet another reminder of her brother’s sprawling insanity. Every one of these weapons caches -he probably would have melodramatically called them “hideouts” or “secret bases”- was like a tombstone marking the grave of the only truly sincere, loving relationship she’d ever had in her life.

He hadn’t always been the slavering maniac with an incoherent obsession with killing a superhero. He’d been a protector and a benefactor, a chess opponent and a confidant, the only person in her life who presented an uncomplicated human connection, without any ulterior motives or conditions.

Everyone else wanted something from her. Money. Power. A competitive advantage. Technological secrets. Or just sex. Lena resented that most of all, the gray old men who saw nothing of her achievements or her intellect and regarded her as just another piece of ass with blue enough blood that they had to ask permission rather than simply grope.

Watching her crew load up the equipment in this sweltering heat made her physically ill, and she was glad she’d skipped breakfast. Kara would be upset if she knew.

She’s had to text Kara and let her know that she’d be out of the office and would have to skip their lunch plans. Kara was…

Kara was becoming a complication, because Kara was doing the one thing Lena wished she wouldn’t: She was giving Lena hope. She’d barreled into Lena’s life with an earnest intensity that had been bewildering at first and intriguing afterwards, with her insistence that they be friends, and constant reminders that they were friends, even as her eyes wandered to Lena’s cleavage or she unconsciously bit her lip and stared that smoldering stare just to look away at the last second.

Lena shook her head, clearing her thoughts of yet another Straight Best Friend taking her down that well-worn path of sapphic suffering. She had bigger fish to fry right now.

It was too bad that her relationship with Supergirl had been so chilly lately. It might have been easier to simply tip off the hero and the government agency she worked with and let them handle the clean up.

Lena was deep in reverie when one of the crates, a bulky reinforced one, dropped a good two feet from a forklift and the wood splintered as the locks burst free.

“Idiot!” Lena shouted at the driver. “This equipment is sensitive and potentially dangerous, and…”

“STARTUP SEQUENCE INITIATED.”

A metallic voice ground out of the crate and it shifted as something vast and bulky moved around inside. Lena stumbled back, glad she’d opted for a sensible set of flats for this, and turned to run.

A metallic claw crashed out of the crate, followed by an arm-mounted rotary cannon. The older model Lexosuit, one of the originals that Lex had planned to illegally smuggle out of the country in a fake theft scheme and sell to the Kasnians, stood up in its shaky, clanking way and took a few steps, shaking off planks and nylon straps the way a baby bird might shake off pieces of shell.

There was nowhere to go. The machine scanned the room, moving jerkily as it zeroed in on her.

Lex’s voice, a recording, boomed from its loudspeakers.

“Ah, dear sister, I see you’ve found another of my hidden fastnesses.”

You melodramatic-

“Oh well. I should thank you for setting off the security system. I won’t have to waste my precious time killing you myself. Au revoir, Lena!”

The suit spun its arm cannon and aimed at her. The barrels assembly made a half turn, the electric motor charging up as it cycled the first 32mm mass-reactive exploding shell into the chamber. Lex had once called it a masterpiece in the art of violating the Geneva Conventions. It was about to blow Lena inside out, and the subsequent shots reduce her to a the chunky consistency of a good bolognése.

But then there was a wind that was not a wind, and SHE was there.

Supergirl seized Lena with precision and grace, hands that could crush diamonds pressed just so over Lena’s ears to protect her from the roar of the guns. Lena wasn’t sure who screamed louder, her or Supergirl, as the revolving barrels ripped out their entire supply of ammunition in a few seconds, pummeling Supergirl’s back with explosions that could have shredded a tank, as the hero cradled Lena, sheltering her with her superhuman body.

When the hellstorm was over, the machine charged at them.

Supergirl did scream now, and fell upon the machine in a berserk rage. Lena had seen her in a fight before and knew she could be terrible to behold, but this was different. The empty suit was struck with such unending fury that she reduced it to shreds of metal and oil-spitting chunks of machinery in moments, spreading it halfway across the floor of warehouse.

When Supergirl rounded on her, Lena’s heart skipped. The hero’s chest was heaving, straining at the crest on her chest even as the bunching muscles on her arms and stomach pulled at the material, her perfect hair swirling around as she turned, that angelic face marred by a streak of oil and a sheen of sweat.

How dare she just look like that. It was incredibly unfair.

Before Lena knew it what was happening, Supergirl was lifting her into a heart-skipping bridal carry, pulling her much too close as she took off. On instinct, Lena pressed her eyes shut and buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck, to hide from the heights.

Moments later they landed, and Supergirl threw Lena’s balcony door back and deposited her on her feet, leaving her stumbling back against her kitchen island in a daze. Supergirl stared at her, looming over Lena with the height difference increased by her stacked heels and Lena having lost her shoes at some point, so her stocking toes were left curling on the cold floor.

“That thing almost killed you,” Supergirl snapped. “If Is been a millisecond later you’d be dead.”

Her voice was tight with emotion, somewhere between anger, exasperation, and terror, and it felt like a fist closed in Lena’s chest.

“Are you sure you just weren’t there to make sure I wasn’t taking Lex’s old suit for a spin myself?” Lena spat, though her voice trembled. “You don’t seem to trust a thing I say lately. If I tell you the sky is blue you’ll go check.”

Supergirl’s face flushed and Lena braced for another booming, self righteous speech about trust or safety or the meaning of teamwork or some such heroic nonsense, but then her voice shattered into a million pieces and tears welled wet in her eyes.

“All I want is for you to be okay.”

A thousand thoughts danced in Lena’s mind. To ask her why, to defy her, to taunt her, to demand what exactly it was that made Lena so damned important that this woman was so intense about her safety one moment and so angry the next.

In the dance of all those thoughts, the more base instinct won out. Lena grabbed Supergirl by the neck of her suit, just below those delightful collarbones of hers, and used it as a handle to pull herself into a hard, aggressive kiss.

The world hung still for a moment, and Lena felt it all pivot around her. Something big was happening here. Something huge, something…

Something forgotten entirely as Supergirl’s tongue roughly claimed Lena’s mouth and her hands raked over Lena’s ass, dragging her skirt up.

Oh God, she thought, this is actually happening.

Lips pressed to her skin, the words burning hot into her flesh like an invocation.

“Is this okay?” Supergirl whispered.

“Yes,” Lena moaned, without hesitation.

To be continued…