#but I still wanted to carry over some elements

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

On earth-616, The Outlaws are a short lived team of reformed Spider-man villains (Prowler, Puma, Silver Sable, Rocket Racer, and Will o’ the Wisp or Sandman) trying their best to clean up their acts and be heroes.

…But what does that make them on an earth with no Spider-Man?

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

Alright know what here's a little Guild Wars 2 reblog game for everybody; what mounts (if any) do your characters have in their canon, do they have names? Personalities? How'd they meet??

Spill it all below, tell me about all your creatures!!

[eupheme]

— on the fence [into the fire, part ii]

part i | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 3.8k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, oral (m), exhibitionism, spanking, biting, hair pulling, light choking, sub/dom elements, PiV, irradiated creampie

a/n: hi! I had a couple ideas I wanted to explore, which turned into a mini-series. I have them all mapped out & I hope to have them up for you soon! 💖

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

(Or - the Ghoul gets you out of your Vault Suit.)

You’re not sure you like the look of this town.

It sprawls wide and low across the desert, the inhabitants gathering in the shadows to escape glare of the sun. A low buzzing murmur that carries with you through the streets.

It feels suffocating, after the open miles before.

Following the dark figure of Ghoul, as you wind through the streets. Partly because you have to - that leash still pulled tight, wrapped around a fist.

Partly because you want to stick close, always.

“-don’t need you slowing me down.” The Ghoul gives the rope a yank, and you scowl, “You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

Your frown softens. His words still just as harsh, snarled out. But they’re a far cry from before.

Before, when you were certain he was going to hand you right back over to your Vault, in spite of how far you’ve come. Something significant passing in the journey through the desert, as he had taken what you wanted.

The taste of him has since faded, but he still lingers.

“Gotta earn your keep, too.” His head turns, eyeing you from beneath the brim of hat, “You good at anythin’?”

Unable to help it, you smirk - a brow raising. He scoffs in response, eyes narrowing.

“Anyone can be good at suckin’ cock, sweetheart.” He drawls, unimpressed, “’m not so bad at it, myself.”

Your lips part in surprise and he’s the one that grins, now.

The Ghoul picks up another bounty here. A shady, alley-way deal - keeping you close to his heels as he snatches the faded paper contact off a tattered board.

Running into another pair looking for jobs - a fresh scar splitting across the nose of a man who tries to start a conversation, before quickly retreating.

“Fuckin’ amateurs” muttered in reply to your heavy, silent judgement.

The client is tracked down for more information, after. Wasn’t hard to find the man with cage over the lower half of his face. Spikes that scream Raider with the way they jut through his clothes.

Fifty caps for the “goddamn no-good thief” that wiped out his stall in the night, taking every last bullet and can of cram. Last seen about two days ago, heading north.

Dead or alive, the client doesn’t care.

“Did you see ‘em?” The Ghoul frowns, “What they look like? Give me somethin’ to go off of.”

“Course I did,” The man huffs, “Looks just like me, don’t he? He’s my own damn brother.”

You can’t contain your own sideways look in disbelief, only to see The Ghoul returning it.

He bargains for a hundred, and gets it.

It’s hard not to wonder if he had taken your bounty this way. If your face had been scrawled across a piece of paper. Exchanged in a no-nonsense, disconnected way.

How much had your life been worth?

You never asked him. It’s something you’re not sure you even want to know.

The rest of the afternoon is spent stocking up. Caps exchanged for some more ammo. A couple bottles of watery chems, shoved deep in his bag to join the others.

A way the ease the cough that rattles him every few days. The smallest bottle kept out, wrenched open with a tight fist.

It snags at you - the way he swallows it like ambrosia the second he steps away. Gasping and groaning as if it’s air he needs to breathe.

“I’m good at medicine,” You tell his back - following again. Memories of the Vault pushing their way to the surface, “Could make that for you, if we find the stuff. Wouldn’t have to dilute it.” You almost run into him, with the way he’s gone still. The tilt of his head, a single sharp eye piercing through you under the brim of a hat.

Shifting over your shoulder. Narrowing.

His hand fists in the collar of your jumpsuit instead, hauling you down the nearest alley and into the shadows.

“Hey!” You protest, your back knocked against the wall. He cages you in, knuckles pressing into your jaw with his tight grip.

The vial is pinched between his fingers, dangled in front of your face.

“You can make this?” He confirms.

You’re able to confirm it now, never quite getting a good look before. RadAway. It would be simple, compared to some of the stuff you’d had to cook up.

“Get me to a lab, some supplies,” You nod, “And I will.”

“Huh.” He’s close - you can’t help squirming in his grip, as he considers you, “Ain’t that something.”

A second, before his grip eases - but he doesn’t let go. Your bound fists rest against his chest, but there’s no force behind them to drive him off.

“Could’ve just asked.” You huff, “You don’t have to man-handle me.”

He almost smiles - his voice coming low, with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t I?”

It flusters you, how his body presses against yours. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your chest brushing his with each short breath.

His thumb sweeps, ghosting against your skin. Those sunken eyes dropping to your collar, with a frown.

Another glance down the aisle, before they’re dragging over you - voice lowering.

“Need to get you out of this suit.”

His words make stiffen in his arms, a sharp inhale of anticipation.

“Not so smart, are you?” He husks, his gaze dragging from your parted lips, up to your eyes, “Runnin’ around like this. Downright advertising you’re a Vaultie, when someone’s lookin’ for you.”

He’s not wrong. He tracked you down easily enough. You nod is small, a pang of regret as his fingers drop - as he steps away.

“Come on, then. I know a place.”

The place is an old saloon, the windows blasted out over two centuries ago. The gutted insides filled out with a patched-up bar, the mended tables and scattered chairs filled with patrons. Rooms to rent lining the first - and second floor - if you were brave enough to risk the staircase.

A few stalls set up alongside a wall - a barber ran by a Mister Handy with a looping stutter, the second by another Ghoul. Her few racks are filled with a patchwork of fabric, all in stained and faded patterns.

He gestures, a tilt of his head at the racks, “Pick something out, quick like.”

You’d gape at him, if you weren’t afraid he’d change his mind. Serious about your suit - you’re quick to grab a shirt in your size with only two holes. A pair of trousers, a rip at the knee.

“This ain’t for you.” The Ghoul clarifies darkly in your ear, “This is a trigger-happy town. Don’t need to be wasting my bullets.”

You hum in agreement - undeterred by his tone. The package clutched to your chest as he hands over a couple caps. Stuck over a full two weeks now in the same suit - you’re itching for the soft cotton against the skin.

Turning to leave, but then you’re halting. A couple of the patrons look familiar, hovering just inside the door. Something about that scar-

You’re trying to recall, in the crowd of people you’ve seen today - when a hand clamps down on your shoulder. Wheeling you around as the Ghoul turns to the shop owner.

“You got a room she can borrow?” There’s a change in his tone, almost a sticky-sweet edge to his drawl.

It must work - you’re shown to what used to be an old parlor room. An array of broken chairs, a heavy wooden table. The wallpaper torn and faded, the shades of cream long stained a dull, dirty yellow.

He fills the doorway - an arm propped against the frame, and you hold your wrists out to him dutifully.

You’ve worked at the knots before, to no avail - only to scowl now, as he undoes them easily with one hand.

A moment of silence hanging then, as you give him a pointed look - rubbing at sore wrists.

“You gonna leave so I can change?” You ask, “I’ll just be a second.”

The Ghoul steps forward instead, pulling the door shut behind him. An audible click, as he thumbs at the lock.

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’.”

A heat flares to life in your cheeks, “You’re staying?”

“That’s right,” He sinks into an old loveseat, propped up on concrete blocks near the boarded-up window, “Can’t leave you alone in a place like this. Fuckin’ vultures would swoop right in.”

You hesitate, watching him warily as an arm slings across the back, legs stretched out against the floor. If you didn’t know better then you think it was something almost akin to concern in his tone.

Or then again - he might just want to keep your bounty to himself. You had hoped you were past that, but-

“What?” His tongue pokes at his cheek, tone taunting, “Gettin’ shy again?”

The clothes are dropped unceremoniously on the table, your Pip-Boy following. A glare, as you reach for the zipper of your Vault Suit, starting to yank it down.

“Hey, now.” His hand raises, “Slowly. Got it?”

There’s an immediate urge to resist, to test him - but then, you’re catching the look on his face.

It’s hungry, beneath the brim of his hat. You start to feel like you did in the desert, and then the alley - intrigue, and desire, and an ache from his words, all melding together.

So, you take it slow. The zipper slipping from your throat, to breasts, then belly. A roll of your shoulders as you slip your arms from the tight sleeves.

His eyes follow, lingering on each inch of bare skin that’s revealed.

“Turn around.” He growls when you reach your hips, and for him - you do.

Bending at the waist as you unlace your boots and step out of them. Back arched as you wiggle, pushing the suit down past your knees. Down soft legs that part, so you can step out of them.

A glance over your shoulder, then. His head tilts, eyes sweeping from your ankles to fix on the crux of your thighs. They press together on their own, a thrill at being on display for him.

He catches you looking, his hand lazy as it drops to his lap. A lift of his hips as he adjusts, palming himself. The other hand leaving the revolver shotgun that rests on the cushion next to him.

Crooking two fingers at you, silently beckoning you over.

You fit between thighs that inch wider. His hands curl on his lap, before he’s slowly peeling his gloves off. Warm, against your hips, biting into your skin.

“Don’t make ‘em like you above ground anymore,” He idly comments, a flatness to his tone that betrays nothing.

Soft and smooth skin. You wonder if he’s thinking about ruining it - sinking his teeth in and taking a bite. Leaving a mark that you’ll carry.

You think you’d let him.

His grip dents your skin, before his hands are dropping. A heated look thrown your way, as his face tips up to yours.

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

It sends a heat rushing through you, knowing that he’s right. You’re locked in a room with the most dangerous man in the city, and it does something to you.

A boldness, in the way you reach behind. His growled out “fuck” when you let bra loosens - joining the blue and yellow suit on the floor.

The wood is rough under your knees. Letting your hands wander, lifting his hips while your work open his belt. Drawing down the rusted zipper.

You grasp at his hips, tugging the faded fabric until he’s free. Fingers tracing over thighs, just as rough and reddened at the rest of him. It’s still not much, but it’s more of him than you’ve ever seen.

Bare beneath the stained pants, cock already thick and full where it curves against his hip. All from just watching you - perhaps a strange thing to be proud of, but fuck, you are.

Your hands curl around his knees, as your head dips. Taking more time than you did before. Lips pressing against the taut base, as a hand twists in your hair again.

“Come on and thank me, sweetheart.” He growls - urging you upward, “Gettin’ those clothes for you. Make it worth my while.”

It’s different this time. A familiarity in the way your tongue presses against the flushed head. The taste of the salt on your tongue, before your lips are part around him.

A soft groan, when he’s filling your mouth again. You’ve thought about it often since last time. Wondering when he would have you on your knees again. If he’d want more, the next.

Your heartbeat thuds between your thighs, with the shift of his hips into your mouth - chasing his pleasure.

An urge to make him feel good. Without thinking - your hand wraps around his shaft, as your head eases back.

“Easy, now.” He grits, though his eyes are fixed on how your fingers curl around him. How it pumps, squeezing him with spit-slick fingers.

Jerking him into a mouth that parts so prettily for him. Your other hand slipping against his thigh, with feather-light brushes. A short inhale before you take him deep again, your fist sliding down to the base.

The next time you pull him from mouth for a breath, drool stringing from his cock to your lips, he hears himself growling out, “Stop.”

You’re being too tender, and he finds that he can’t stand it. Should have kept you bound, like last time.

The Ghoul’s fingers bite into your chin, your mouth glossy from how you swallowed him down.

“I’m taking you this time. Know you’ve been just aching for it.” He husks, his thumb pressing against your lip. Watching your tongue peek out to taste it, “Go on. Get up, and get your ass over to that table.”

Your desire nearly eclipses everything else. Pushing on his thighs for support, crossing the three steps to the side of the table.

“No,” He follows - the gun clattering on the table top, brought over from the couch. His hands at your hips, guiding you until you’re facing the door, “Right here, sweetheart. I’ll be keepin’ watch.”

It has you remembering where you are - that you’re just supposed to be getting changed. Wondering if you should worry that you don’t care - the thought of piping up, having the risk of losing this chance and denying pleasure again has you quickly adapting.

A hand presses at the small of your back insistently, bending you over it. You can feel him against the curve of your ass, sticky against your skin.

“Cross your wrists,” His thighs shift against yours, as you fix your hands that has flattened against the tabletop.

Making it easy for him to grasp at them with one hand - stretching them further, pressing them against the wood as he kicks your thighs further apart.

Leaving you on tip-toe, arched against him.

“Look at you, listening.” He almost coos, with another lazy rock. His cock shifts, fitting between your thighs, nudging against you.

“I think-” You start, but it’s punctuated by a moan, “Think you just like tying girls up.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” He drawls, “Though I don’t discriminate. Theres just something ‘bout havin’ you like this-”

The Ghoul leans over you then, his grip tightening. Pinning you firmly between him and the table, unable to do more than squirm as his free hand slips between your thighs, cupping you.

It’s the first time he’s touched you like this, and your muscles string tight - trying not to buck into his palm. Against fingers that rub against your clit, pressing the sticky fabric to your skin.

“Fuck.” He rasps in your ear. Nails bite into your hips, as he tears the fabric down to your thighs.

Coming back to press against your bare cunt, fingers slipping against your folds. You’re unable to help the soft whimper as he parts you, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

“Please,” You whine, as he pets against you. Smearing your slick up to your clit again, his fingers parting just as he reaches it.

His cock presses against your leg, thick and stiff. A roll of his hips until it’s pressed snug against your cunt - jutting between your thighs just below his hand.

“Your pussy is downright leakin for me, sweetheart,” He growls, “You need it that bad?”

You whine, your head turning to look - watching how he arcs over you. That blown-wide look in his eyes again, as you nod.

There’s a split second as his hand leaves you, before it’s cracking down on the meat of your ass. You gasp in shock as you go still beneath him, the pain unexpected and swirling with your heady need.

“Say it out loud,” He barks out, “Tell me just how much.”

Your skin stings, his fingers twitch before he kneads roughly at the flesh - the burn of it akin to way you ache for him.

“I need it,” You keen, “Need your cock. Want you to fuck me-”

The words cut off - a rough hum of approval before he’s lining himself up, a hand curving to grip your hip. The other flexes around your wrist, before he’s driving himself deep with a single, powerful thrust.

Your cry is loud, this time. Low and rough, pushed from your lungs as your pussy makes room for him.

“Fucking christ, you’re tight,” He grunts, unable to help the shallow buck of his hips, “Better than my goddamn dreams.”

It makes you moan - the gritted-out admission not lost on you.

Even with how wet you are, you still feel like you’re stretched wide. An ache radiating through you, sparking to life as he inches out, only to plunge deep again. The table bites into your hips, back arching as he sets a rough rhythm.

The sharp twinge starting to fade, as you begin to accommodate him. Growing accustomed to the heavy weight of him inside you, the steady stroke against your walls that has you starting to clench down around him.

Your breathing grows shorter, faster. Face turning to bury in the curve of your shoulder, muffling the moans that are pushed from you - until his hand is leaving your hip, twisting in your hair with a sharp tug.

Forcing your head back, his grip anchoring you.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. Know you saw those eyes on you,” He’s lost the steady edge to his voice, words turning rough, “Go on, be loud.”

The Ghoul’s hips pound harder, the rough texture of his cock stroking deep. Each sending a current through you, leaving your fingers and toes flexing, aching for just a little bit more.

“Saw you come in with me. Show ‘em who you belong to.”

“Fuck!” You cry, wishing you had a name to scream. Unable to muffle your ragged breath, the moans he pulls from you.

It fills the room, melding with the slick punch of his cock into your wet and needy cunt. Better than before, because his hands are on you now - leaving your hair, blunt nails dragging down your back. Ghosting across your hip, where your skin presses into the wood.

“Touch me.” You beg, again, “Let me touch myself, I can’t-”

His hand withdraws, and you whine - backpedaling. Afraid that he’s going to pull from you, finish himself across your back or your ass for asking.

“Please. Fuck, please. Don’t, I’m so close-”

He groans at your plea through clenched teeth.

Releasing his grip on you, only for his hand to slide to the base of your throat. His other arm looping beneath you as he hauls you against him, flattening against your ribs.

Palming at a soft breast, as you’re pulled up and pressed flushed to his chest.

“Listen to you, miss manners,” He grins - teeth bared, “That’s more like it, honey.”

The bandolier cuts into your skin, the wood into your thighs. And change in the angle that has your cries growing louder as his cock pounds against a soft spot inside you. Warm breath ghosting against your neck, deep rumbling growls in your ear.

Everything fades, growing hazy. His fingers tighten, but not enough to fully choke the air from you. An implication - your own hands wrapping around his wrist to anchor yourself to him. 

You can hear him inhale you, the scrape of teeth against your skin above the heavy press of his fingers. Salvation in the way the hand splayed beneath your chest drifts lower, his voice smooth in your ear.

“This is for listening,” He husks, “You understand?”

Relentless, when his fingers press against your clit. Slick and circling until you’re grinding into his touch, meeting the hard slap of his hips.

The gasping chant of “fuck, fuckfuckfuck,  please-” turning into mindless whimpers, his rough rhythm growing sloppy.

“Goddamn, you feel good.” It’s a ragged sigh, “Feel your tight little cunt squeezing me. Gonna make a mess, sweetheart?”

It sounds muted, layering with a ringing white noise. Your nails bite into his wrists as the swiftly building tides breaks. Almost missing the sweet growl in your ear.

“Let them hear how a pretty thing like you sounds coming on a cock like mine.”

You do, with the next swirl of his rough fingers - the sound broken as he rips it from you.

Bearing down around the cock that fits so deeply into you, with each blissful pulse of your release. Forgetting about the rest - about the outside world - as your nerves alight with pleasure.

His hand drops from your throat to brace against the table. Bending you flat again as he feels you flutter and gush around his length, crushing you against the top as blunt teeth close against the pulse point of your throat, biting down.

The sounds of his own orgasm muffled - a ragged groan as his cock throbs, as he fucks himself deep into you. Tasting the salt of your skin as you yelp, clenching around him - milking him until your walls are coated with his spend.

He hadn’t meant to - but the urge to pull from you had wavered the moment he buried himself in your cunt. Abandoned completely, after feeling you come so sweetly around him. An instinct lingers even now - to enjoy the soft press of your body against his, your warmth.

You shiver as his lips brush your neck, the closest thing to an apology as you’ll get - before he’s pulling away from you, leaving you clenching and empty.

A ragged hand slips between your thighs as you prop yourself up on your elbows, catching your breath. Pleasure still radiating from your core as fingertips swipe through the come that is just starting to leak from you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He laughs - the sound ragged, with a flash of yellowed teeth.

“Guess this means you better start cookin’.”

The Vault Suit is left beneath the table, a crumpled up reminder that you’re happy to leave behind.

Your cheeks burn as you leave the saloon - the strangers from before cleared out. A definite wobble to your steps - something that The Ghoul certainly notices, the low tilt of his hat hiding the curling pull of his lips.

Outlining the path towards the next bounty as you find your way out, guessing where you might find a lab along the way.

And it’s only as the city starts to fade, that you realize -

He never bound your wrists again, after.

I have the brainrot for this man for sure! Thank you for stopping by & reading 💖 (and I have also been reading so much about the new chem the Ghoul takes! For plot & smut reasons - I am going with RadAway, haha)

[prael]

Not Quite Home

Kinktember Day 15: Stand & Carry

Kepler Youngeun x male reader smut

words: 1,495 Kinktember Masterlist

She is everything you're not. Everything you hate. How can someone refuse to have a place to call home?

All this about being a free spirit and experiencing everything that the world has to offer all sounds well and good but how is a tree supposed to grow if it has no roots? But Youngeun insists that is exactly what she is after, the constant thrill, the constant novelty, the rush and urgency. In every interaction, she seems to have been in search of the next big adventure.

And you think you do her a disservice by not understanding.

Perhaps if you had met each other under other circumstances, things might have gone better for the two of you. But now, you resent how she feels like a stranger whenever you're together. She once brought an element of excitement and risk to a routine, drab life, but that grew exhausting and more than once made you feel like you were suffocating. You grew to loathe her carelessness.

"Your parents?" You ask as she stands in your bedroom for the third night in a row, "Have you even told them you're back in town?"

She shakes her head in lieu of an answer, "You know how they are."

"You're going to blame them for wanting their daughter to visit for once?"

Youngeun laughs. It's one of your least favourite traits—her incapability to take anything seriously. "Not your business. Besides, seven nights, remember?"

Yes. Seven nights. This is what she told you, another expiry date on another chapter of whatever the fuck this is between you. Another unspoken contract was signed for the hell of it. A time limit, for something that isn't even real.

"Just think about it," you continue, hopelessly, "talking with your family. It'll clear your mind."

"Know what clears my mind? The wind in my hair, sun on my skin, music in my ears," Youngeun runs her hand through her silky hair, "Landing in some new town, finding a new local hang out to try something exotic and then exploring whatever is hidden in that town's history, picking up a new person, hooking up with them, letting the excitement course through my veins, knowing there's always something else waiting on the horizon."

Another insufferable thing that she does. It's been maybe fifteen minutes since you tangled limbs in the bed and now she's standing across the room naked making no secret of the fact that she picks up guys and girls wherever she goes. Youngeun looks down at you on the mattress and runs her eyes up and down your body, her fingers resting lightly over her collarbone.

You follow the line of her fingers, nails cut short with traces of peeled black nail paint. A callus on her finger is a reminder of how often she played the guitar. She runs them down her chest, thumb catching a nipple in the process of doing so.

"Look at you. You get hotter every time I come back." And just like that, Youngeun drops a compliment, casual and effortless and you question who's benefiting from this relationship because it clearly isn't you.

You're gonna fuck her again tonight. Tomorrow too, and another three nights after that. After which she'll be gone for another six months to a year. There's a weird emotional emptiness to this routine—you give and she takes and this is all she asks.

"Come here, will you? Pin me to this wall already. Make me feel you." Her hand cups her breast and another traces its way down her abs, a clear intention.

You should hate her, really. Like how you hate the idea that she left home for no reason or how she wasted her potential, hate her for her indifference, for her recklessness and her cold detachment, or hate the fact that it's just meaningless sex. 

She doesn't like strings, it makes no sense to her how people commit. If she was the type of person who asked to be understood, you would probably try to, but that's never something she ever expressed. 

For all of that, you don't hate her. It's why you're still walking towards her and she's backing up into the wall.

So, what does she ask for? Her answer is pleasure and pain.

She kisses like a raging fire. Everywhere her hands roam leaves marks on your skin; she scratches deep in your back as you hook her thigh up around your waist. A hand between her legs, sliding in without any sort of preamble. She's still dripping wet, though some of that may well be your last load. She tastes of salty, sweaty sex and you relish it. She kisses and she gasps as your fingers work at her entrance; crooking them upward so you can press them into her and rub right against the sensitive spot inside her.

Her tongue slides past yours, hot and wet as she grinds up into your hand, claws digging into your lower back. Your hand fucks into her roughly with reckless abandon and her breathing gets shallow as your fingers bring her closer and closer.

It doesn't take long, she's close, you know that when she throws her head back against the wall. "Stop—wait, fuck—wait," Youngeun barely gasps and then with your name in her throat, the friction of your fingers sends her over the edge. A moan escapes as her mouth falls open, eyes clamp shut as you finger her to orgasm.

It's always been easy to make Youngeun cum, but it never loses its magic. There's something particularly thrilling to the way she moans your name in that honey-laced rasp, to the way her entire body arches upwards as the pleasure mounts. A sharp gasp cuts the air.

Her limbs slacken. She leans her head against the wall. She's struggling to catch her breath.

And this is the fucking problem. For every reason to hate her, there are so many more reasons to enjoy her.

That's when you lift her, hooking up the other thigh and holding her by her tight little ass. Youngeun hisses and she's staring daggers and that's always a part of the fun. She'll give you these looks that could kill a lesser man, but you know the only solution is to pound her into submission.

"Be rough with me. Hard," Youngeun pants, sucking air in, breath ragged. Her skin's hot to the touch.

"Like last time?" Your voice comes low, thick and gruff as you hook her legs higher.

"No, harder, faster," Youngeun replies between rapid, short breaths, she grips your arms, rolls her hips and wraps her body tighter around you, "Want me to stay? Fuck me until I can't walk out."

You're incensed and sliding your length over her slick, warm, inviting heat, before slamming her back into the wall, entering her in one long hard motion and enjoying the way her lips fall apart; enjoying the way her hot and messy, fucked-out body arches upward as you hit deeper and the way her cries pitch. You don't even wait for her to catch her breath before snapping your hips over and over and giving Youngeun exactly the type of pounding that she wants.

There's a sharp gasp. A second of silence and then a choked-back scream. You feel a palm on the nape of your neck and a sting on your shoulders as her nails dig deep and scratch. She rakes them over the broad expanse of your upper back and it fucking hurts. It fucking stings and it's delicious. You bury yourself deep inside her, stretch and fuck her all open on your dick.

"Like that. Yes! Like that! Fucking ruin me."

"Since you asked so nicely."

Her moans become a struggle now that you've run a hand roughly up her body and planted it around her neck. Squeezing, not too hard, not to cut her airflow, not to bruise, but firmly enough that she will feel it and feel that she is being held. She loves to feel hopeless. And there, that's what you like: her hot, sweaty body locked between you and the wall and helpless against you as you sink into her.

And as much as she says it doesn't mean anything. Youngeun cries out your name like it means something.

The ever-familiar suffocating grip of her wet cunt grips you as she cums again. Bodies flushed together, grinding and sweaty.

"I can't breathe—" Youngeun whimpers in that cracked, vulnerable and submissive way and you snarl. Fuck her up as promised. Hurt her like she begs for. And Youngeun loves it like nothing else, absolutely nothing, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and a strangled groan as you reach another climax and fill up her pussy again. You pound yet another load into her tight hole.

As much as she would hate to ever admit it, this is as close to a home as she has in her life.

[ddarker-dreams]

What Remains Unspoken.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan

Warnings: Yandere themes & unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2.2k.

If there’s anywhere Feitan looks out of his element, it’s in the sun. 

The celestial object serves as his antitheses — warm, bright, and inviting. Given his pallid countenance, he must agree. On the rare occasions you can go outside, he keeps to the shadows, whose darkness could never match the depravity festering inside his rotten soul. You believe night itself would flee from him if it knew a fraction of his crimes. 

When you first saw him enter direct sunlight, a certain superstition overtook you, triumphing over reason. You observed with tentative expectation, waiting for something to happen, whatever that something may be. For his skin to break out into blisters, flesh to sizzle, and howls of agony to dominate the air as he disintegrated into a pile of ash; in short, a demise befitting a monster like himself. Regrettably, this didn’t happen. Disappointment weighed heavy on your chest when he went on his merry way. 

Presently, he stands hidden amidst a cluster of trees, acting every bit the fairytale ghoul your overactive imagination wished him to be. Through the branches' interstices, light speckles his dark outerwear. It’s a hot, balmy day, though evening’s arrival soothes the worst of the heat. 

Unlike him, you’re dressed for the weather. This morning, upon leaving your shower, you found the comfortable clothes you picked out beforehand ‘mysteriously’ replaced. A short, light blue dress featuring a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps laid there instead. That wasn’t all. Jewelry, heels, and other various accessories were tossed haphazardly alongside it, like you’d been undecided on what to wear before a first date. Except you hadn’t been the one to get everything out. Feitan was. Prior to that, he never took any interest in what you wore. 

No, that attribute belongs to another, whose memory fills you with sickening dread. 

You sit at a wooden picnic table, examining the park’s abundant foliage. There’s little else for you to do. Feitan’s yet to give any indication as to why you’re here. Typically, his modus operandi consists of stashing you far away from the public’s purview. From time to time, you’ll travel elsewhere, always using methods that limit your potential interactions with others. This part of the park may be less populated, but hikers and families can still stroll by. You take care not to draw attention to yourself when they do. 

Sighing, you stand, fully aware of the eyes monitoring you in the distance. Unsure of what else to do, you approach the last place you spotted Feitan. He says nothing as you approach. You hug yourself, almost regretting your decision to seek him out. By giving you no parameters to work with, you’re left constantly second-guessing yourself, fearing that you’ve broken some unspoken rule. Standing by his side feels like a safer bet than risking a stranger coming over to strike up a conversation. 

“Bored?” Feitan asks. 

You freeze, thinking over your next words with care. If he believes this little outing is a ‘privilege’, you doubt he’d appreciate you maligning it. Then again, he’s suggested creative punishments for your tongue whenever it’s formed a lie. Considering this, you decide it’s best to redirect the conversation. 

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should be doing,” you say. When he raises a thin eyebrow, you hastily add, “Sorry, I mean—” 

He flicks your forehead, silencing you. 

“So nervous,” he croons. “Like little rabbit.” 

Irritation bubbles up inside your chest, like a geyser ready to erupt. You want to scoff, as king why he thinks that is, but the provocation goes unchallenged. He isn’t wrong, per se. Every snap of a twig or distant conversation the wind carries instills unease. Endless grisly possibilities swarm your mind. All it could take is a greeting, wave, hell, even a look for Feitan to decide that person’s committed the ultimate transgression. 

Suddenly, this preoccupation flees your mind.

Shivers erupt all over your body. Your breathing halts, as do all other forms of movement. The five senses that categorize and make sense of the world recede, like the shoreline moments before a tsunami. What remains eclipses common sense. It’s this unprovable premonition, a whisper amidst the universe’s chaotic chorus few can ever hear. No tangible stimuli support this phenomenon. You’d believe yourself temporarily mad, if not for one damning detail. 

You’ve felt this before. 

The time you’d been found after your first (and only) escape. 

After a well-meaning Hunter pried you from the shackles of captivity, for less than a minute. 

Then, at the height of your hubris, when you yelled that your first love would be your last. 

The intensity honed to a fine point. It pierced through you like a gunshot, so visceral that you’d check yourself for signs of the wound. You never found anything. You think it was how your brain wanted to make sense of the unknown, mistaking the force of concentrated emotion for a flesh wound. This extremity wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t malevolent either; it was oppressive. Heavy, carnal. A starved beast prowling toward cornered prey. 

When you’d been subjected to this, the subjugator always spoke some variation of— 

“—Apologies. My control waned there, for a moment… but can you blame me?” 

Someone’s touching you. Someone’s cupping your face in their hands, devouring each detail of your being, and Feitan’s letting them. You stumble back, only to be caught. The hands holding you in place are larger than Feitan’s. Warmer too, a little less calloused, though no less stained in oceans of blood. If Feitan’s eyes are knife-like, trying to stab through your skull for any hint at your inner thoughts, then these eyes are calm. Calculating in a way that makes you feel small. 

“You’re lovelier than I remember,” the man murmurs. A breeze passes through, displacing your hair, which he tucks back into place. His lips twitch upward, indicating amusement. “What? Did you believe you’d ridden yourself of me?” 

Despite your reverie, you shake your head. The man before you — Chrollo Lucilfer — smiles. It’s deceptively soft. Had you not known him better, you’d think the fondness he currently regards you with as warm; the gentle flames of a hearth. There are tells that reveal another story. His grip varies in strength as he’s reminded of how delicate you are, indicating a lack of his usual ‘mindfulness.’ You both know he’s putting on a front of normalcy, yet the charade is rarely this lackluster. He descended upon you faster than the human eye could comprehend. There’d been no casual stride, just an impulse to have you as immediately as physics would allow. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks slightly flushed, like you were a substance to get drunk off of. 

The embrace he pulls you into is tight enough to make you squeak. 

You expect him to rile you up, whispering teasing words into your ear, yet he’s silent. Unusually so. He buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, breathing you in, holding you close. Any pretense of cordiality is dropped as he acts like the greedy man he truly is. This neediness is reminiscent of a child reunited with their lost, favorite toy. 

The unsettling intimacy doesn’t last for long. 

Chrollo releases you from his grasp. The relief is fleeting, as you’re acutely aware of Feitan’s presence. He’s stationed not far behind you, watching the scene in silence. The sadistic man’s capacity to share fully eluded your understanding. From what you can remember, Chrollo’s more willing to discuss their past, but solely on his terms. He’s never explained why Feitan is the way he is, or how he views you. 

“He’s fond of you, in his own way,” is the most you got out of Chrollo, during a late-night talk. “He’s just shy.” 

“It’s good to see you again, Fei,” Chrollo greets. 

Feitan nods — his way of returning the sentiment, you reckon. In Chrollo’s absence, you’ve learned to interpret his behavior to minimize friction. The deference he has for Chrollo is subtle yet undeniable. Others might misinterpret Feitan’s silence as indifference, but you know better. In Chrollo’s presence, he straightens his posture, giving him rapt attention. He follows any order given by his boss. 

Especially those regarding you. 

Ever since that fateful September, Feitan went from a background character in your life to the lead role. He didn’t reveal much, just that you wouldn’t see ‘the boss’ anytime soon, as he needed to ‘fix things.’ York New was a sore subject that you rarely broached. Nearly ten months have passed since you’ve last seen Chrollo. Physically, he’s the same. There are bandages wrapped around his forehead, covering his forehead tattoo. He’s wearing his teal earrings, dark jeans, and a gray v-neck. 

Seeing him now, it’s almost like nothing’s changed. 

Almost. 

“Lost in thought, love?” Chrollo wonders. 

Blinking rapidly, you realize they’re both staring at you, awaiting an answer. 

“You’re… you’re back,” is your genius observation.

“I am.” 

“You were… um… gone,” you fiddle with your fingers, “For a long time.” 

“I was,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You see dark circles forming beneath them. “This entire affair has proven itself tedious. No matter. In a few short days, it’ll all be over.” 

“There’s more to take care of?” 

He hums, the sound low and somehow eerie. “You could put it that way. Originally, I was going to wait until after I evened one last score to see you, but impatience got the best of me.” 

“Ah,” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “That explains it, then.” 

“Explains what, dear?” 

“You seem, I don’t know… off? Creepy to the second power? Cubed?” 

Chrollo gives you a blank stare. Feitan’s hissing something about how you ‘talk too much,’ his displeasure evident. It dawns on you then that you haven’t interacted with Chrollo in so long, it’s possible his tolerance for your nonsense isn’t what it once was. Especially considering the state he’s in now. Regret churns your insides as silence fills the air, thickening it like smoke. You think to apologize, only to recall their dislike for insincerity. Feitan never wanted apologies, whereas Chrollo accepted them if proven genuine through a rigorous process. 

You wince at the sound Chrollo muffles behind his hand. 

Then, much to your disbelief, it evolves into a chuckle. 

His shoulders tremble as his eyes turn crescent-shaped, gleaming with mirth. He shakes his head and clears his throat. After a few seconds, he regains control of himself, though his posture is less rigid. This visage aligns better with your memories of him. He liked pretending he was ordinary — almost as much as you liked pretending to believe him. 

Feitan clicks his tongue. “This girl… always says. Never thinks.” 

“You must admit, it’s a cute habit,” Chrollo says.

To this, Feitan mutters a phrase in his native language, turning his gaze away from you. 

You cross your arms over your chest. They both had an irritating tendency to talk about you like you weren’t present, a pet peeve you hadn’t had to deal with in a while. The candidness they displayed made you wonder what they spoke about when you weren’t around. A pandora’s box best left unopened, surely. 

Chrollo pries one of your hands free to hold in his own. “Words cannot convey how much I missed you."

He follows this admission up by kissing the back of your hand.

“... I can’t stick around much longer, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “Bear with me a while longer.” 

Another chaste kiss. After allowing his lips to linger on your skin a while longer, he relinquishes his grip, tucking his hands into his pockets to deter him from further indulgence. 

Unexpectedly, it’s Feitan who shifts the topic. 

“Boss,” he speaks, now lurking by your side. “She watch the fight?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance between them, thrown off by the cryptic language. Truthfully, you don’t want to know about whatever it is Chrollo has to do. From what you can glean, it’s likely to involve people getting hurt or dying. You’ve learned the best way to keep your conscience clean is to remain ignorant. If you press on certain issues, Feitan will gleefully overshare gritty details you could’ve gone without. 

His response is swift and firm. “No, not this one.” 

“... That bad?” Feitan asks. When all Chrollo does is smile, he adds, “Heh. Poor clown.” 

Chrollo’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Upon reading the caller’s name, he steps away. “Keep an eye on her for me a while longer, Fei.” 

The aforementioned man grunts. 

Chrollo spares you a long, final look. 

His lips part, as if he intends to say something, before they shut. Inquisitive, you tilt your head, not used to him hesitating. He’s always projected this self-assured image — untouchable, near omnipotent. Flaws don’t suit him. There's this invisible screen that separates you from men like him and Feitan. Their access to abilities beyond comprehension elevates them, setting them apart..

You prefer it that way. Categorizing them as 'others' is easier than reconciling the fact their more human than infernal.

Eventually, he gives you an unusually reserved smile. 

"After everything's over, I'll find you."

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

32 / 1.4k / soap soulmate au, part 9

...

Soap goes still and quiet, his grip loosening. "People?"

"Human trafficking."

"How do you know?"

"Because security is quadrupled in the basement lounge. The client and his inner circle are scheduled to move downstairs after midnight. They're calling it an afterparty."

"You're sure it's not drugs?"

"I'm sure. I saw the dossier given to security downstairs."

Soap's mouth twists. The target sure as hell isn't leaving this place alive if he can help it. “Could’ve mentioned that earlier."

“I tried. Who do you think tipped Laswell off?"

That gives Soap pause. "Laswell? You’ve been in touch with her?"

"Once." You curl your fingers tighter into his vest and grab his chin to make him look at you. "Johnny, listen. If you kill him now, everything locks down. You won't be able to get into the basement. You need to get down there quietly with the element of surprise."

"What have you got in mind? Covert extraction, no prep, no briefing?" He raises one hand as if to cover yours, to trace along your knuckles. After so long, he can’t help it. He just wants to touch you. "That's a lot to ask. What was your plan if we didn’t show? Go it alone?"

"Figure it out as I go along, I guess."

"Christ, you're a headache." Soap's hand tightens around yours, gently pulling it off his collar to bring your hand up to his cheek. He turns up your palm and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You're on his side this time. He can't put into words how light it makes him feel. 

He makes a low sound in his throat before he pulls back again. He clicks on his radio. "Captain, LT, you'll want to hear this."

While Soap explains the situation on his team's comms, you put yourself back together, checking your rifle and your gear. He watches you the whole time. You’re not what he remembers—not the cornered animal he met in that interrogation room before. You're in your element. If he could, he’d drag you away, take you back to some safehouse somewhere, and focus on getting to know you in every way and every position he knows. Patience, he tells himself. After this mission, he'll have all the time in the world. 

After the brief conference--and Laswell confirming she’d received an anonymous, cryptic tip about stolen goods in the target’s favorite Swiss Alps resort--he turns back to you. "Price wants the target no matter what. We're pullin' back to regroup and plan our strategy."

Your stomach drops. "What? There's no time."

"You said it yourself: we have no intel, no time to prep, and no good way in. Civilians everywhere. If it goes tits up, people die." He grabs your hand and pulls you into the hall, heading for the stairwell. "We're fallin’ back and regrouping while we still can."

You jerk your hand out of his, stumbling back. "We have intel. I was briefed on this mission. I can get downstairs,” you argue.

You mean alone. Soap doesn't like that. "Not happening,” he snaps, his voice rough with frustration. He glares down at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth. “I know you can more than handle yourself, but not against a hundred of these bastards."

"Those bastards are my coworkers," you retort. "They won't look twice at me."

That's the worst part. Your familiarity with this place makes you an undeniable asset for this mission—that’s why he sought you out. The reason that’ll be in the official report, anyway. Damn it. He's torn between the knowledge that he should be happy you’re willing to help his team out and his desire to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of the building.

"You said yourself security's quadrupled down there. If it goes loud, you're done. I'm not lettin’ you play hero. No. Ain't happenin'."

“Then we find a different plan,” you argue. You've never met someone so hard-headed.

"She might have a point," Gaz's voice says in Soap’s earpiece. "If we find a way to bring security up to the ground floor instead, you and Ghost can get down there and find the hostages. Security's already jumpy with the power out--give them a reason to come upstairs and they will. It’s just a matter of finding a distraction. And we've got snipers posted. Distractions are easy."

Hearing Gaz, you nod. “I'll take the target and lead him into view for your snipers.”

Soap curses under his breath, running a hand over his mohawk. He wishes he’d turned his radio off. He doesn't like putting you at risk.

You huff and sling your rifle over your back. Time is slipping away. "I need to find the target. I'll wait for your signal and--"

Soap grabs your arm before you can walk past him. "Jesus, stop. Give me a minute to think."

"We don't have--"

"Time, I ken." Soap's grip tightens. He tugs you against him again, one hand going to the back of your neck to hold you in place. "You're not goin'. Not without me."

"That's ridiculous!" Your voice climbs despite the way he forces you closer--folds his arm around your lower back and pulls you chest-to-chest. "They’ll see you. And they’re not just going to arrest you, okay—they’ll kill you."

Soap’s expression tightens. "How do I know you won't abscond with the target? Wouldn’t be the first time you left us high and dry."

You close your mouth and stare at him. He’s worried you’ll betray him. Your gaze falls to his chest, silent, because it wouldn't be the first time.

At the look on your face, Soap’s chest feels like it’s caving in. But he keeps going before he loses his nerve. He doesn't care if it's selfish. "You disappeared. No word. No message. Not even a thank you. I'm not lettin' that happen a second time. One wrong move and I'm pullin' you out."

He lets go of you, unhooks the collar radio from around his neck, and puts it around yours instead. "Tell my team when and where you have the target in place. They'll take care of the rest."

You put the earpiece in place and adjust the bit around your neck. "Fine."

He stands still, arms crossed, as you adjust your gear one more time. Your nerves are shot.

You glance at him, an apology stuck in your throat. "I was going to contact you, I just..."

"Just what? Had more important things going on? Assholes to protect?" he snaps. He stalks closer, towering over you again. The frustration flashing through his eyes eclipses the sudden, haunted look of a man who hasn't slept well in weeks.

You press your hand to the armor on his chest and lower your voice. "I get it if you don't trust me. Just... trust that I want your target dead as much as you do."

"Promise me you won't disappear on me again."

You bite the inside of your lip and put your hand on his cheek. Something in your chest twinges when he leans into it. "I promise," you lie.

"Good." He closes his eyes and lowers his forehead to yours. He breathes deeply, committing your touch to memory.

Then he opens his eyes and angles your jaw up toward his, his mouth slanting over yours in a hard, possessive kiss that empties your brain completely. When he pulls away, his eyes glimmer.

"You’d better stand by that promise, darlin’,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “I let you go in Las Almas because you didn’t want my protection yet. Could’ve taken you with me whether you liked it or not, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you hatin’ me. Even if it meant keepin’ you safe.” The cool leather on his knuckles brushes tenderly against your neck. "But those reservations aren’t holdin’ me back anymore. I will do what needs to be done if you play games with me. You understand?"

You stare at him, heart thumping strangely. "I don't think that's... necessary."

“I hope it’s not.” He cups your jaw in his hands and brings your lips to his again. The kiss this time is gentler, softer—just a slow, intimate press that melts you completely. You’re breathless by the time he lifts his head. "When this is over, you're mine."

You nod weakly, not trusting yourself to speak.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / [part 9] / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[hypewinter]

Dick stared out at the snowy landscape past the window before turning back to his new baby brother. Danny was sitting in his high chair, happily munching away at some Cheerios. Looking at him now Dick thought back to how he had come to Wayne Manor just a few months prior.

Bruce had stormed into the Manor after coming back from a Justice League mission with a bundle in his hands. Dick who had stopped by the manor to steal food catch up with Alfred had been thoroughly thrown off by his father's open animosity. He could hardly recall the last time he'd seen Bruce this outwardly furious. The man's glare alone could rival Darkseid's omega beams. As Bruce sat down at the table, the two men finally got a good look at just what he was carrying. It was an infant. An infant who was fast asleep, his soft black hair falling over his eyes. Bruce quietly asked Alfred to prepare a room as well as all necessities needed for a baby. The old butler had immediately set off to just that.

Meanwhile Dick was quick to ask what had happened but Bruce didn't say. Even when the others gradually found what was happening and asked their own questions, he still refused to answer. Not even Alfred had been told where the baby had come from. The only information Bruce had offered up was that the baby's name was Danny and he would be staying at the Manor from now on. As for the rest of the details, he claimed he would tell them in due time. But Batman's "due time" was often too late to actually do anything about it so desperate for answers, the family had turned to their own investigations only to come up with nothing.

All files related to Danny were locked behind a mountain of firewalls and Oracle had apparently already been sworn to secrecy by the big man himself. Whatever it was, Bruce wanted absolutely zero interference, so for now, the family was forced to sit in their hands.

That led till now, 5 months later. It was mid-January and Dick was on babysitting duty. Everyone else was either out running errands or on a mission. Not that Dick minded though. Danny was incredibly cute and he loved taking care of him. Besides, it gave him the perfect opportunity to get Danny to see him as the favorite brother. Still, Dick couldn't help but feel couped up today. Maybe it was because it had been snowing the last few days leaving both boys alone in the giant manor all day long.

Dick stared wistfully out the window once again before an idea dawned on him. He turned back to Danny who had stuffed the last of the Cheerios into his mouth along with his entire hand.

"Hey Danny. Wanna have a snow day?" he asked cheerily. The boy cocked his head at Dick, hand still in mouth. Dick smiled wider. "I'll take that as a yes!"

Dick hoisted Danny out of his high chair and carried him upstairs to his room. After he set Danny down in his crib, he grabbed all the gear he needed. He picked out a long sleeve shirt with a cartoon star and big bold letters reading "You're a Star!" He also grabbed long socks, some elastic pants as well as jeans, a scarf, a blue beanie, and a pair of cute little mittens.

It didn't take long for Danny to be fully dressed for the outside elements. Though after Dick finished putting his shoes on, he squirmed a little and made a face.

"I know I know," Dick cooed. "But I'm pretty sure B. would make an exception to his 'no killing rule' if you got sick on my watch."

Dick admired his handy work for a minute (taking dozens of pictures as he did so) before picking his brother up and heading downstairs. After a quick pitstop at the door to grab his own jacket and gloves from the coat rack, he opened the door and greeted the chilly air outside.

Danny giggled as he reached up at the snow while Dick circled around to the side of the manor.

"Bitey! Bitey!" he squealed.

"Yep, Bitey," Dick replied with mild confusion.

Danny would say random things like that sometimes, forcing the world's greatest detectives to put their minds together in order to figure out what he was talking about. One time he just wouldn't stop saying "Em". It took everyone a whole day to realize he was referring to music. And an extra two days to figure out he was specifically referring to pop music.

Oftentimes he would call Barbara "Jazzy" and Duke "Tuck". On occasion he would even call Cass "Sammy". Every time he called something a new name, it was a race to figure out what he meant. Each time they figured out a new word, Bruce's face would darken and he'd disappear off to the Watchtower for the day. Something that was really starting to drag on Dick's nerves. It was like it was physically impossible for that man to share information.

Dick was startled out of his thoughts by a tug at his jacket and looked down to see Danny staring at him.

"Sorry sorry," he said with a smile. "Lost in my thoughts. Forgive me?"

Danny put on a pout but Dick knew by now that it was fake. One could tell by the mischievous look in the boy's eyes that he just couldn't hide. "So be it then!" Dick declared before pulling Danny close and snuggling into him. The boy shrieked as cold nose touched warm neck. "Fo-give! Fo-give!" he cried.

"Aw thanks," Dick said as he pulled away. Danny giggled again, his bright blue eyes crinkling with laughter.

The pair walked around in the snow for a bit longer before Danny started making grabby hands towards the ground. "You want down?" Dick asked. Danny nodded energetically.

"Alright."

Dick carefully set Danny down in the snow. The boy excitedly wriggled before putting his hands down to the snow. As Dick watched, there was a burst of light and suddenly there was a semi circle of ice, radiating out from their position. Dick stared at the ice in shock. Danny turned and blinked up at Dick, almost as if he were in shock too. But he very quickly went back to playing in the snow. Dick swallowed. Sure they all knew Danny had powers. It was pretty obvious when the third day there, he floated up to the ceiling. Still though, he highly doubted ice powers was up there on anyone's list of "abilities our new baby brother might manifest next."

Dick was so shocked all he could manage to utter was, "Huh. That's new."

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[soapisahimbo]

Three's Company - John 'Soap' MacTavish & Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Request by @st4rv1ng-m0uth:

Well I just finished reading uou nsfw alphabet for Soap and The idea you had under the dirty secret was just amazing so I would love to request threesome with Ghost and Johnny (also I think it if they kissed in the eiffel tower position that would be just *chef's kiss*)

Oh. My. God. This request was sent to me in January. I am so sorry that you had to wait this long, but I sincerely hope this makes up for the wait! This is a bit of a beast at 7200 words, which might not seem like a lot compared to some writers, but it is to me! I really, really, really hope you like it!

Contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

warnings: threesome, fem!reader/female anatomy, overstimulation, soap and ghost get FILTHY with reader, eiffel tower position, oral sex, penetrative sex, semi-homoeroticism, may contain spelling errors despite checking, i fucking got carried away

You felt the world roll with a yelp and a whoosh; the floor came up to meet you, your back slammed against the mat and you knew that it was with just enough force to leave a bruise for a good week or so. Such was the way of Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley - he never actually hurt you, but he'd beat you up just enough for you to remember the lesson. To be fair though, you suspected he was going easy on you. Or, well, easier compared to the others he usually sparred with, just a tad.

With another quick sweeping motion, he pulled you by your arm to sit you up, only to slip into position behind you and wrap you up in a grip so tight you were sure that a boa constrictor would be considered child's play in comparison; one arm wrapped around your neck in a chokehold, your arm that he grabbed twisted at an uncomfortable angle, and his legs clamped around your midsection like a beartrap.

You could only hold for a few seconds before you tapped his arm with your free hand to signal submission and he released you in an instant, letting you roll over and get back up on your feet. He stood up as well, towering over you.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna let me 'fuck you over' today," he said, and you swore you could've heard a tone of mockery in his voice. The balaclava gave you a better look at his eyes than the skull-mask usually did, but it still kept any expression on his face obscured. If he even had any expressions to show.

"Shut up," you said. "You caught me off guard is all."

"Uh-huh. Isn't the whole point of this to train so you don't get caught off guard?"

Ghost had, much to your surprise, been the one to offer to train you. Not that you weren't capable, but his argument for it was that you would need to learn to take down the best and the most dangerous soldiers that you could come across on the battlefield, and he wanted to make sure you were well trained. Just learning to take down someone his size alone could be imperative to your survival. As such, the two of you had met up every other day to spar if able, and by now you had been going for at least a couple of months of the same routine.

"Well, sometimes even the best of us get caught off guard. It's just as important to learn how to regain your footing when you lose your balance as it is to keep it," you quipped, proud of your analogy.

"Well, you failed."

You sighed, planting your hands on your hips, and stared at him for a moment. "You can't just let me have a moment, can you?"

"No. You're not here to have 'moments', you're here to train. You won't be havin' any moments if you're dead."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he had a point. "I hate it when you're right."

"It's a burden I carry much too often." He stepped away to grab a bottle of water and handed it to you. "You got cocky. You lost the second you thought you could beat me."

"Oh wow, kill my hopes and dreams, why don't you?" you mumbled sarcastically.

"Never underestimate your opponent, and never overestimate your own abilities. A bloated ego will never do you any good. If you ask me, I'd say Sergeant MacTavish has rubbed off a bit too much on you."

You noticed that he was looking past you, over your shoulder, and you turned to see the very man mentioned leaning up against the wall with a grin on his face.

"Awae widdya now, lieutenant. I swear to you I've never rubbed anythin' off on anyone. Least of all any pretty ladies." He turned his gaze to you and gave a wink.

You'd be lying if you said Soap MacTavish didn't have an effect on you. For the most part, you considered him a good and trustworthy friend, someone who you knew you could lean on in troubled times. But he was also an incessant tease with a rugged sort of charm, a man who harmlessly liked to push buttons and limits all the same, and looked at you with a certain kind of gleam in his eyes that made you feel just the tiniest little flutter in your stomach. You couldn't let him catch you checking him out, or he'd never let you hear the end of it.

"Too busy rubbing yourself," Ghost deadpanned. breaking you out of your little moment of reverie.

Soap chuckled. "You should try it, maybe it'd help you relax."

"Now now, boys," you said from behind the lip of your water bottle, about to take a sip, "play nice."

Soap stepped away from the wall to join you and Ghost on the mat. "I always play nice, wouldn't you say, lass? LT however - he might be nice to you, but he'd shove a boot up my arse at any given moment."

You scoffed. "If this is what it feels like when he's 'nice', I don't want to know what it feels like when he plays rough."

"Might get you to stay focused for once," Ghost grumbled.

"How 'bout I join in, eh?" Soap offered. "It's always good to have some variation in your life."

"You wanna teach her how to blabber her enemies to death?"

"You know I could give some good pointers."

You couldn't help but hesitate. Getting your ass handed to you by the Ghost was rough enough, but Ghost and Soap? You knew that despite all their bickering, they were a tight and dangerous pair that garnered a lot of awe and respect from their peers. On one hand, you probably couldn't find anyone better to train you even if you tried; on the other, you weren't sure how you'd make it through a session with both of them.

You heard Ghost let out a slight sigh. "Fine." He turned to you. "You go a couple of rounds with MacTavish, I'll watch, then we switch. Stay on your toes and stay. Focused."

He didn't seem to give you any say in the matter, so you were left with little other choice but to do as you were told. You put your bottle to the side, straightened the laces on your boots and took a deep breath. "Yessir."

Soap - Johnny, as he gave you special permission to call him, which otherwise seemed to be Ghost's sole privilege - made a habit of joining you for your regular sparring sessions, and while you definitely learned some very valuable lessons, they certainly put you through the ringer. You made the mistake of thinking that maybe the sergeant would have been a bit more easygoing compared to his masked counterpart, but while he kept up the usual light-hearted humour, he and Ghost gave you very little respite. You were however making improvement, so much so that even Ghost complimented you on it, so you kept your complaining to a minimum.

You couldn't help but feel like there was something hanging in the air, though. You tried to brush it off as just good-natured competition between them, but you knew that wasn't quite it. After about two months of training with them, you started to notice some interesting behaviour to say the least.

They were usually already there when you arrived, keeping a hushed conversation that quickly ended once you entered the room. Probably some confidential stuff, you thought.

They were liberal with slower walkthroughs, one always putting their hands on you to adjust your position when grappling with the other. They're just being thorough, you thought.

They kept bantering, and you couldn't help but feel like they were showing off. For you or for each other, you couldn't tell, but they had a certain way of butting heads over what to do and how to do it better than the other. That's just the way they are, you thought.

By the end of each session, it felt like something was ready to snap, but you couldn't for the life of you put your finger on it. You found yourself waiting for something to happen, but you didn't know what, and you couldn't tell if you felt relieved or disappointed when nothing did. The more that feeling kept growing, the more that snap felt ever imminent, and it didn't seem like you could do anything but brace.

It wasn't until you happened to overhear a conversation between them that the feeling seemed to gain some sort of validity. You didn't mean to snoop, but just as you were about to step through the door, you heard Johnny mention your name, and you stopped right next to the doorway.

"We'd be going against an entire library's worth of paragraphs," you heard Ghost respond to whatever he had said.

"You keep saying that, but you still haven't said that you don't want it," he scoffed. "I'm pretty sure Price has had his fair share, and I know for a fact that Gaz has."

"Fuck's sake, Johnny."

"Listen, I'm not dumb, all right?"

"I have my doubts."

"Fuck off. Look, I'm not talking about pulling some dirty tricks or trying to persuade her into doing something she doesn't want to do. If she doesn't want anything to do with it, that's it, end of story."

"Do you realize she's in our squad? This will only serve to create unnecessary complications. We are her superiors - ever stop to think about how that'll look if anyone were to find out? Get your head out of your fucking ass."

"Of course I've thought about it! I'm aware of how fucked this is. But I also know you're as deep in it as I am." There was a moment's heavy pause and you could feel it even from where you were standing.

"We're done talking about this, Johnny."

You took this as your cue to step in and found the two of them glaring at each other, but they didn't seem to notice you until you spoke up. "Done talking about what?" you said.

It was almost as if though you had poured buckets of icy water over them with how they jolted at the sound of your voice, their heads snapped in your direction and they stared at you with such wide eyes that you thought they would pop out of their sockets. If their topic of discussion hadn't sounded so serious before you entered, you probably would've laughed.

They stayed quiet and frozen for a few more moments. "Is..." you started. "Is there something I should know?"

Johnny seemed to splutter back to reality. "No! No, no, not at all, we were just-"

"How much did you hear?" Ghost interrupted, demanding but apprehensive.

You shrugged. "Enough to know you were talking about me, but that's about it." You squinted your eyes at them. "The fuck are you guys up to that you have to be this secretive about it? Are you in trouble?"

"No," said Johnny, "no, we're not in any trouble. And neither are you, we were just... discussing something."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Listen, if there's anything I need to know, I'd prefer it if you just told me. Especially if the two of you are gonna keep sneaking around behind my back like this."

You had never seen them this stiff and... awkward. Like two teenage boys getting caught watching porn by their mom. Their eyes flitted between each other and you, contemplating whether to tell you and how much. They seemed to come to some silent agreement before turning to you once more.

"Not here," Ghost grumbled. "We can head to my room. It's... a bit more secluded."

"An invitation to Simon Riley's private quarters?" you tried to joke. "Wow, this must be something special."

Neither of them responded, instead Ghost just stepped by you and Johnny gestured for you to follow. Walking down the halls, that feeling in the air was heavier than ever, and you still couldn't tell what it was or if it made you excited or nervous; if it was something serious or just something that they'd built up in their heads to be bigger than it actually was.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you guys were up to something illegal," you said after walking in awkward silence for far longer than you were comfortable with. "Is this the part where you tell me you've been running an underground drug ring all this time?"

Johnny chuckled. "Not illegal, technically, just..." He gave an odd glance at you. "Maybe a bit questionable."

Ghost's room was not quite what you expected it to be. Clean and tidy, well-lit, organized. You'd half-expected there to be a row of skull-masks to be hanging neatly on the wall - one for every day of the week. Or mood. Maybe he hid them in his closet.

"All right," you said, watching him take a seat at his desk. "Are you guys gonna tell me what's up?"

The men glanced at each other once more. "We, uh," Johnny began. "There's something we've been thinking about. A... proposition, of sorts?"

Ghost groaned. "Don't call it that. We're not proposing or offering anything here, all right? We just need to get this out, clear the fuckin' air."

"Fine, don't lose yer fuckin' head. Listen, we don't expect anything off of you, or think that this is something you'd want, we just don't want you to get the wrong idea or get caught up in something you don't want to be involved in."

"This is starting to sound more and more like a drug ring after all," you muttered.

"It's not, all right, I can promise you that. It's just that... after some time, LT and I feel like you've been doing very well during practice and we're quite proud of you. But we also feel like there's something we can't quite... overlook."

You couldn't get over how they were acting. Johnny was usually such a cocky and confident man, you'd never seen him struggle to find the words he wanted to say.

"Ok, and?"

"Just get to the point," Ghost grumbled.

"This isn't exactly an easy conversation here, LT, I'm tryin' to-"

"This was your fuckin' idea, Soap, you get to see it through."

"Guys-" you tried, but to no avail.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't want it too!"

"I want you to get it out of your fuckin' system so you can shut up about it for once!"

"Go fuck yerself, you're just as involved as-"

"You're the one that has been scheming about this shit since day one, don't fuckin' pin it on me!"

"For fuck's sake!"

You honestly wished you knew what was going on, but between their arguing and your own confusion, you didn't even realize Johnny had walked up to you until he grabbed you by the wrist, pulled you to him and planted his lips on yours. You weren't quite sure what to make of this or what to focus on - his lips were far softer than you ever would've thought they'd be, and his hands, now cupping your cheeks, were far gentler than you had experienced before. He broke off just as suddenly as he'd grabbed you and you felt your head spin, gripping onto his wrists for some sort of stability.

"Whoa..." you mumbled.

"Fuckin' hell," you heard Ghost growl.

"Sorry," Johnny muttered, seemingly just as dazed as you. "I lost my cool there for a second."

You couldn't help but chuckle. You weren't sure what to make of this, but a part of you wanted to just go with it. "I mean, I didn't really mind it."

"You serious?"

"Yeah. Didn't think this was what you were going for, but it could've been worse, I guess."

His face split into a grin before he leaned in and kissed you again, more calm and controlled this time. You weren't sure how long you stood there for until you heard Ghost clearing his throat, and you flinched at the sound, blushing profusely once you remembered where you were.

"Sorry to interrupt you, lovebirds, but if this is how it's gonna go, you can just head to your own rooms."

Johnny glanced over at him. You could see the gears turning before he looked at you, planted another gentle kiss onto you lips and then turned you towards the lieutenant, placing himself behind you. He put his hands on your waist and leaned his chin against your shoulder.

"Come on now, LT. Isn't this what we came here for?"

You looked between them, watching another lazy grin appear on Johnny's face and Ghost's hands clench at the armrests on his desk-chair. Slowly, you felt it click in your head.

"This is why you guys have been acting so weird? You both have a thing for me?"

"That's one way to put it."

"So, what, you want me to choose between you or something? You guys have been having some weird competition over who gets the girl?"

Ghost stood up. "Not quite," he said. He stared at you and you couldn't quite tell if maybe there was some sort of jealousy or if he wanted to leave you be.

"It's more of a mutual desire, really," Johnny mumbled into your hair.

Ghost stepped towards you, slowly. Gently, he grabbed your chin and tilted it up and stared into your eyes. He ran his thumb along your jaw and then up to your bottom lip. "This ok?" he asked quietly.

Oh.

Oh.

It made sense now - or at least a bit more than it did before. Their weird behaviour, their conversation, the way they'd kept dancing around the point. To be fair, you would've expected the drug ring long before you'd ever thought of this.

You took a moment to think it through; this wasn't exactly something that happened every day. Just like Ghost had said earlier, this would not look good if anyone else were to find out. All three of you would end up in heaps of trouble, them possibly more than you. You knew, logically, that it was probably for the best to end it right here, to say "thanks, but no thanks", walk away and pretend like this never happened. They definitely knew this, too, but there was something about the warmth emanating from them, enveloping you; the touch, that tension in the air. That snap that had been hanging over your heads this entire time, like a rubber band pulled to its absolute limit. You knew that you should say no to this.

But how could you?

Before you even knew what you were doing, you nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it's ok."

You could tell that they both relaxed significantly, Johnny pressing himself closer to your back and squeezing at your waist as Ghost reached up and pulled his mask off. No. Simon. You'd seen him before, but it didn't make it any less palpable to see him again.

He gave you a moment to stare at his face before he leaned in and kissed you, surprisingly much gentler than the sergeant. Your heart was already pounding and your mind was racing, not knowing what to focus on; Simon's lips on yours, Johnny's tongue at your neck, their hands caressing you all over, stroking and kneading and wandering. You didn't know what to do with your own, so they wandered as well, grabbing at their shirts, at their arms, at their hair, their belts.

"Look at this, LT," Johnny spoke softly as his hands slipped in under your shirt and up to your chest, "we had nothing to worry about."

Simon hummed into your mouth, his tongue slipping in past your lips. His hand moved downwards, cupping your mound and rubbing at it, and your hips tilted back, ass grinding right into Johnny. You broke the kiss with a gasp, leaning your head back to catch your breath.

"That feel good, bonnie?" Johnny chuckled into your ear and cupped your breasts over your bra, squeezing. "Want us to keep going?"

You nodded. "Yes! Yeah, I want- keep going."

You felt a tug and looked down to see Simon unbuckling your belt. He unbuttoned your pants, opening them up and slipping a hand right down your underwear, finding a slick heat in his wake, and your mouth fell open in a soft gasp. He groaned and rubbed circles around your hole, as if taking in the sensation of your wetness.

"Fffuck me," he whispered. "She's fucking soaked."

Johnny grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up to your chest, exposing your skin and leaning over your shoulder to get a view of what his lieutenant was doing. "Give 'er here, LT."

You watched with utter surprise and fascination as Simon pulled his hand back out from your pants, fingers glistening, and held it right up to Johnny's face, who took his fingers into his mouth without an ounce of hesitation.

"How's she taste?" Simon asked.

Johnny hummed against the hand as he sucked and licked it clean before releasing it and turned his head to look you dead in the eyes. "Like a fuckin' dream."

You whimpered as Simon ran his now wet hand over your throat, then down between your breasts, over your stomach. He then grabbed onto the hem of your pants and started pulling them down, leaving you bare.

"Oh, shit," you breathed as he knelt down in front of you.

He untied and yanked your boots off before removing your pants and underwear completely. "Lift her leg up for me, will ya, Johnny?"

Johnny shifted his weight and you felt his chest at your shoulder, holding a firm grip with his arm around your waist before he scooped up one of your legs by the crook of your knee. He grinned at you and leaned in to press his lips against yours one more, far more eager and heated than he was before. It was hard for you to focus though, as you felt Simon's large hands rub up along the inside of your thighs. Before you knew it, you felt him press his face in between your legs, and at the feeling of his lips on you, you gasped, and Johnny took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You don't know how they did it, but they seemed to work in perfect tandem. Johnny's tongue stroking against yours, Simon's tongue lapping at your pussy, driving you out of your mind with pleasure. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to find something to hold on to - one hand made it's way to Simon's head and grabbed a tight hold on his hair and had him groan into your core. The other found Johnny's arm around your waist, gripping and digging your nails into his skin.

You thought you felt a wet drop run down your leg and you weren't sure if it was your own or Simon's making, but he gave you very little time to consider it as he slipped a calloused finger into you. You broke away from Johnny's kiss with a moan and your head fell back against his shoulder.

He chuckled. "Y'feel good, bonnie? Is your pussy all wet and nice for us?"

You couldn't do much else but nod fervently. "Yes," you moaned, "yes, I'm-!" You felt another finger push inside and your hips canted against Simon's face. "Fuck!"

"Just like that, baby," Johnny mumbled into your ear. "Look at you now, hm? Gonna watch you cum all over his face like a good fuckin' girl."

The shivers that ran through your body at his words met with the heat at the pit of your stomach from Simon's mouth and fingers and you trembled. You thought you'd shake apart, but they held onto you so tightly that they might has well have been glued to you. You felt Simon's fingers curl inside you, finding the spot that you'd always had trouble reaching on your own, and his tongue worked between your folds and then up to your clit. The volume of the moan that left you startled you, and for a brief moment you were worried that someone else would hear, but it only seemed to spur your company on. Johnny ground his crotch against your rear with another chuckle and buried his face in your neck, licking and nibbling at your jawline as Simon sucked on your clit and pumped his fingers in and out, pushing against that spot again and again and again.

"Ah, f-fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you panted, "thi-this is s-so fucki- I'm-!"

"Breathe," Johnny groaned against your skin, "breathe. You're so good, so fuckin' good to us. Cum on his face now, bonnie, go on, cum on his face and then you can cum on our cocks, yeah?"

Another wave of shivers had you quivering in his arms. Simon pressed his face further into your pussy, grunting like a man starved with his free hand gripping onto your thigh, and Johnny moaned at you further to "cum, baby, cum for us, I promise it'll feel so good." The heat in between your thighs felt like it was starting to boil, a sort of pressure getting stronger and stronger and stronger, condensing into a white-hot pinpoint of pleasure at your core, and Johnny cooed, Simon fucked his fingers into you and you squirmed between them until the pressure finally burst and you came with a cry and a gush over Simon's hand and mouth. Your legs shook as Simon worked you through your orgasm and you surely would've collapsed if wasn't for Johnny holding you up. You couldn't stop the sounds you let out, your hips twitching and shaking, the pleasure almost becoming too much as Simon still didn't break away, and you whined trying to get away from his onslaught.

"S-Simon," you whimpered, "too much, too- fuck, I can't!"

Johnny lifted you slightly and turned, just enough to move you away from the lieutenant. "Easy there, LT," he said when Simon glared at him and placed your leg back down. "Gotta pace ourselves, yeah?" He then gestured to you to lift your arms up so he could pull your shirt off, and then removed your bra only to fill his hands with your breasts.

Simon took a deep breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at your pussy, slick and wet and hot and delicious, and licked his fingers clean before he stood up. He cupped your cheeks in his hands, leaning down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on him. As if running on instinct, you tugged at his belt and he sighed into your mouth, staring into your eyes as you unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants.

"That what you want, sweetheart?"

You nodded, and then turned to look over your shoulder at Johnny. You arched your back, rubbing your ass against his groin and he took it as a signal to get rid of his pants as well. He grinned and made quick work of his clothes as you reached into Simon's boxers and pulled his member out. It was hot to the touch, thick and heavy in your hand, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it.

"Go on, bonnie," Johnny said as he grabbed two handfuls of your buttcheeks and rubbed his cock between them with a sigh. "Can't wait to fuck you."

You leaned forward, bending over for them. Simon gently gathered up your hair in his hand and rubbed over your shoulder blades with the other, crossing with Johnny's hand in the middle as he rubbed at your lower back. You wrapped your fingers around the base of Simon's cock and licked a line along the length of him, and you heard him groan.

"Ain't she a pretty sight, LT?" Johnny sighed. You felt him rub the head of his member against your clit.

Simon hummed, watching you with a slack jaw as put your mouth on him. "Like a fuckin' dream," he mumbled.

You wrapped your lips around the head of him and sucked gently. You weren't sure if you'd be able to take all of him in your mouth, but damn it if you weren't going to try. You heard him breathe out a curse as you worked your hand along his shaft and bobbed your head, gently trying to coax more of him in. Johnny pressed closer against your pussy, rubbing his cock against it before he lined himself up properly. You braced yourself, trying to keep a clear head as he pushed a little bit more and more, until the glans of his head finally entered you and he easily slid inside you with a moan of near relief.

"Ah, Christ, shit, you're so fucking soft," he breathed. He pushed his hips a bit harder against you, inadvertently knocking you closer to Simon and pushing his cock deeper down your throat.

You choked for barely a second before Simon pulled back. "Easy, Johnny!"

"Sorry, sorry..."

Simon stroked your cheek and went to ask if you were ok, but you wrapped your lips around him again and the words died right on the tip of his tongue. Slowly but surely, you found a rhythm of letting Johnny's momentum push you forward and let Simon's cock sink further into your mouth and then pushing yourself back onto Johnny's. The heat was overwhelming, but addictive, and you felt the buildup in your core once more, your legs already quivering.

Simon held onto your hair, stroking your face and your neck and your shoulders, completely silent save for a few sighs. Johnny, however, seemed like he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Fuck, we should've done this sooner, you're fuckin' perfect, bonnie," he grunted as he fucked into you deeper and harder. "This fuckin' ass- I knew this ass was perfect the moment I saw it, baby, and this pussy, too, this pussy is heaven." He stretched you perfectly, and you didn't think you'd ever be able to find anyone that could compare to this.

Moaning against Simon, you braced your hands against his hips, doing the best you could to swallow him down, but with each thrust from Johnny, it got harder and harder to focus.

"Awh, fuckin' shit, you're fuckin' grippin' me," Johnny rambled, "yeah, you're gonna cum on this cock, lass, I know you are, I know you fuckin' are, do it, baby, do it."

Faster and harder, deeper and stronger, he thrusted and thrusted and he praised and moaned for you to cum. He reached his hand around, slipped his fingers in between your thighs to rub your clit and you shook, almost unable to make a sound as you still held Simon as far deep down your throat as you could. You could barely prepare for the next wave of pleasure that washed over you, and you came with yet another gush, and Johnny let out an almost triumphant moan.

"Fuck yes, baby, that's it. Thaaat's it, good girl." He kept going, a bit slower and a bit softer, but still enough to have you shake. "Think you can do it again, sweetie? I'm gonna need you to do that again, I wan-"

Simon suddenly reached up one hand and snatched Johnny by the mohawk and pulled him close over you, the other hand wrapped around the sergeant's throat. You were squeezed in between them, Johnny's cock pushed deeper into your pussy, and Simon's felt like it was nearly all the way down your esophagus. In a moment of shocked silence, as your eyes rolled back, Simon kissed Johnny harshly, parting with an almost punishing bite to the other man's bottom lip.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" he growled. He leaned in again, forcing Johnny's head to tilt as he pushed his tongue into his mouth, and broke away with another bite of his lip and a thin string of saliva hanging between them. "I think I've got just the thing, actually."

He pushed Johnny away, hard enough to have him slip out of you. He was considerably gentler with you, pulling his cock out of your mouth and cupping your cheeks as you coughed to lift your head up to give you a gentle kiss.

"You ok, sweetheart?" You nodded, the soreness in your throat not all too bad considering what you'd just had down it. Pleased, he turned you around, and you saw that Johnny had stumbled onto the bed. "How about you and I," Simon whispered in your ear as he ran his hands over your breasts, "teach him a lesson for once?"

Before you could answer, he picked you up. He walked towards the bed, sat down at the headboard and leaned back. He adjusted you on his lap, your back against his chest, and placed his knees on the inside of yours before he slowly spread them apart as Johnny watched from the foot of the bed. Johnny smirked and began to crawl towards you, but before he could reach you fully, Simon reached up and yanked his hair again.

"Easy now, pup," he growled. "Put my fuckin' cock in her pussy before you even think about doin' anythin' else."

There was only a tiny moment of stunned silence, but it was heavy nonetheless. You didn't think they'd reach a point where they actually got involved with each other, but as you watched Johnny take a deep shaky breath and his eyes widen, you found that you hoped that maybe they'd go a bit further.

Johnny swallowed nervously before reaching his hand out to grab Simon. Hesitantly, but almost mischievously, he wrapped his fingers around the member and moved his hand up and down once.

"No games, Johnny," Simon warned, and Johnny actually chuckled.

He then lined the head of Simon's cock up with your hole and held it there as you sank down on it. You gasped, having to pace yourself at the thickness of it. Simon held a gentle hand just above your mound, gently pushing you down as he still held a firm grip on Johnny's hair.

"Easy, sweetheart, no need to rush," he mumbled.

Johnny could only helplessly watch as you slowly worked the entirety of Simon's length into you, and you thought you maybe saw a single drop of drool roll from the corner of his mouth.

"So I don't get to join in on the fun anymore?" he quipped, but you could hear a slight quiver to his voice.

"I thought I told you to shut up," Simon muttered.

You shivered as you tried to adjust to his size, rolling your hips once with a moan. He was thicker than Johnny, thick enough that you felt him press against every side of your inner walls, as well as the g-spot that they'd already worked up to high sensitivity before.

"There you go." Simon tugged Johnny closer by his hair. "Now then. Why don't we put that mouth of yours to some good fuckin' use for once, huh?"

He then yanked Johnny's head down between your legs and pushed his face into your pussy, and even in his own surprise it didn't even take a second before he began working his tongue between your folds. You cried out, feeling like you still hadn't quite come down from your previous orgasm, but even if you wanted, you wouldn't have been able to get away with how Simon wrapped his arm tightly around your waist and rolled his hips up. Your head fell back and you tried to find some way to brace yourself, any way, as every brush of Johnny's tongue and every thrust of Simon's cock drove you further and further out of your mind. You thought you maybe came once more, but you couldn't be sure - every sensation seemed to melt into one and you were so high-strung that you might as well be having just one drawn-out and consistent orgasm at this point.

Simon kept Johnny's head in firm position between your legs. "How's that feel, love? Is his mouth as good on your pussy as it is at talking shit?"

Johnny groaned in what sounded like some sort of protest, but he never made any attempt at moving away. He lapped diligently at your pussy, sighing and moaning against you, licking around your hole where you were split open on Simon.

"Fuck, I-" you managed to croak out, almost forgetting how to speak. "I'm gonna- you're gonna be the death of me."

Simon let go of Johnny's hair and grabbed your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest. Johnny kept his mouth on you and you let out a whine nearing a sob as Simon began rocking his hips upward faster.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart, just relax. Breathe and relax."

In a matter of seconds, Johnny had his lips around your clit and sucked, and you cried out his name, legs shaking as he forced yet another orgasm out of you. You were sure you were losing your mind - there was no way this was actually happening, no way that you could actually feel this. You were only more and more convinced of this as Johnny continued licking, eager to get every drop.

"Fuck!" you whined. "Fuck, Johnny, Simon, I-!"

Simon pushed Johnny away, planted his feet into the mattress to adjust his angle and then pounded into you with some sort of newly found energy. Johnny wrapped his hand around his own cock, jerking it in rhythm with Simon's thrusts and leaned back down between your legs with a wide open mouth and his tongue out.

"One last time," Simon groaned. "One more, just one more."

Your legs tried to squeeze together on their own, but Simon's grip was too strong and you could do little else but grab onto whatever was near and hold as you came once more over Johnny's face, him and Simon following shortly after. With a grunt, Simon pushed himself as deep into you as he could get and you felt a sticky heat fill you up, and Johnny reared up, moaning aloud as he came all over where you and Simon were conjoined. He nearly fell over, head falling onto your stomach.

The only sound that broke the otherwise heavy silence was panting. You weren't sure if you could move or if even the slightest shift would have you break apart completely; it sure felt like it would. Simon wrapped his arms around you, planting soft kisses along your shoulder and neck. You thought Johnny might have fallen asleep where he laid, but he took a deep, deep breath and turned his head to press a few kisses around your bellybutton.

"Shit," he mumbled against you, "that was..." Neither you or Simon were able to respond, but it didn't seem to bother him as he glanced up at you with a chuckle. "I don't think anything will live up to that."

He pushed himself up to his hands and knees and crawled over you, his hips between yours and Simon's legs. He sighed almost dreamily and gave you a sweet kiss.

"We did a real number on you, huh?"

You couldn't help but laugh, still finding this whole ordeal impossible. "You think?"

"We should get her to the shower," Simon mumbled. "Clean her up."

Johnny nodded. "Sounds like a solid plan. Although I've half a mind to just lay down and knock out."

Simon leaned forward to sit up. "Shower first. Then knock out."

You whined suddenly at the movement, his cock still sitting snug inside you. The two men instantly froze, staring wide-eyed at you. "S-Sorry, it's ok, I'm just- I'm sensitive. I feel like you guys gave me a week's worth of fucking in a matter of minutes."

"Shit, we took it too far, didn't we?" Johnny said, his hands fluttering over your hips.

"No, no! I enjoyed it. A lot. But it's not like I'm particularly used to that sort of... conquest."

Simon sighed as Johnny chuckled. "I'm gonna try to be gentle, but we will need to get you to the shower nonetheless."

You nodded and the two of them looked at each other, coming to yet another one of those silent agreements that they were so good at.

"C'mere," Johnny said. "Sit up and wrap your arms around me, yeah?"

You grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled yourself up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wrapped his around your torso and began to lift as Simon pushed you up from beneath until he slipped out of you. You felt your legs shake once more and the cum dripping out of you as you drew in a shaky breath.

"There you go," Simon said, much softer than you'd heard him before.

He turned and stood up as Johnny scooped you up into his arms. It was like they moved in unison to look after you - Simon walking first into the bathroom to pull aside the shower curtain and turning the water on as Johnny followed him closely behind. Johnny then stepped into the shower and gently placed you down on your feet, reaching out a hand to feel the temperature of the water before he guided you in under the stream. Simon gathered up a few towels before he joined you and you couldn't help but laugh. This shower didn't seem like it was meant to hold more than one person at a time and yet they both seemed adamant to look after you.

Johnny crouched down to clean your legs and to gently wash off the fluids between them, trying not to rub too much at already overly sensitive spots. Simon scrubbed your back, gently massaging your shoulders and scratching the skin at the base of your skull. You were sure you were about to fall asleep then and there, but they made quick work of it, before they stepped out with you and dried you off with a fresh towel.

Simon grabbed you a t-shirt and a pair of boxers that Johnny helped you put on before they essentially tucked you in. They laid down on either side of you and as they settled down, you felt a new sense of calm wash over you.

"Rest up, love," Simon said. "I think we might have pushed it a bit too much after all."

"It's fine," you mumbled, feeling drowsy. "I liked it. We should do it again some time."

Johnny chuckled. "I'm sure we will."

It got quiet, and you felt yourself slip into a slumber, held closely between them, warm and snug. But just before you fell asleep, you thought you heard them speak.

"LT." "Hm?" "What happens next?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, is this a thing now? I know you said this was to get it out of our systems, but I honestly don't think we achieved that." A sigh. "I know." "So what happens next?" "Dunno. We'll sleep on it, Johnny. Talk about it in the morning." "Mm. Good idea. G'night, I guess." "Night."

tagging: @deadbranch @argella1300

[marleyybluu]

Two And Counting

husband/dad!Oscar Diaz x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: 18+, smut in your rearview mirror, just a quickie, pregnancy sex, p in v, reverse cowgirl in the bathtub (heeeeeyyyy), just two people in love, some fluff, Oscar is vocaaaal, talks you through it.

A/N: I was high so excuse any misspellings, definitely not proof-read. Also I've never been pregnant lol so I have no idea if this would work irl, but hey that's why we're here, this is not real life.

this was fun to write lol but I lowkey don’t like the title

(not my picture, got it from Pinterest. I want him to **** ** *****)

It was late at night, the house was quiet. Almost too quiet. You were so used to hearing your five-year-old call your name, the repetitive "Mommy! Mommy!" Still ringing in your ear. You sighed, you'd dropped him off at your mother's house for the weekend, he loved going to grandma's and honestly? You needed a break. Just at least an hour to yourself. But now it was so strange not hearing him babbling around the house.

Once you'd come back home you had taken a well-deserved shower but after your shower, you just felt the weird urge to soak in a bath. So you hovered over to the detached bathtub and filled up the tub, squeezing a bit of your bubble bath into the water. You carefully dipped yourself inside the tub, and a sigh of relief and satisfaction left your lips. You smiled closing your eyes one hand on the rim of the tub and the other, palm splayed all over your growing belly. Six months. They'd gone by so quickly, your stomach grew— a huge difference between two months ago and now. It was crazy.

"Hi pumpkin, you okay in there?" You mumbled rubbing soothing circles on your belly. The flick of the bathroom light and the bright beams of the fluorescent bulb ruined your little relaxation time. You looked over your shoulder, your husband Oscar standing in the doorway. Wearing his flannel pyjama pants and... no shirt. Mhm.

His tattoos are on display for you, his arms crossed and his biceps flexed. Why did he have to be so hot? "You two having a good time in here?" He asked. "We were, turn off the light, that's what my candles are for." You complained. Oscar rolled his eyes turning off the light at your command, he walked in, now leaning against the counter. You smiled. "Done with your game?"

He nodded.

"Hungry? There are leftovers-"

"Already ate cariño." He interrupted. You nodded slowly. "How's baby doing?" A smile creeps on his face. He'd been showing all thirty-two teeth since you told him you were expecting another. You shuddered with delight remembering how he was when you were carrying your son. Oscar always had his hands on you, wanting to bend you over anywhere and anytime. He expressed how much he loved seeing you like this. Beautifully in your element, sugarcoating you by saying, moaning; "You were made to carry my babies." As he seemingly pumped another one inside you.

"He's good."

"She." He corrected. He was certain you were having a girl. "She." You mocked, though it did make your heart flip at the thought of him holding a baby girl. 

He asks, "Do you want some more company in there?" 

Your eyes twinkle at the offer and that's all the confirmation he needed before he began pulling down his pyjama pants off, his boxers were next. You gaze lasering down to his half-hard dick, your tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nodded eagerly and made some room for him, you scooted forward and he sat behind you pulling you onto him once he was comfortable. You perch on his lap, leaning back into his hold. He wrapped his arms around you, a warm kiss on your cheek. "Te amo." He whispered. "Te amo. You miss Raphi yet?" You giggle. "I missed him the minute we left your mom's place." 

"Hm, me too." You hummed. Oscar's hands refused to stay in one place, rubbing circles on your belly, measuring the perimeter with his hands. "I can't believe we're having another one." He whispered. "I know," Your hands overlapping his. "We gotta have like four more." 

You gasped lightly pinching him. "Do you see what pregnancy does to a woman's body?" 

"I see what it does to yours. And I love it." 

Oscar couldn't keep his eyes off of you, you could always feel him staring through you-- a "You are so fucking fine." Would slip out every time. You playfully rolled your eyes, his hands sliding to the underside of your belly, a bit close to your heat, you not so subtly buck your hips forward. You moan at the faint brush of his dick against your pulsating clit. 

"We can have one more, and then we're done." You sighed, his hand slipped down further, his palm hovering over your mound. "Three." He bargained. There was no way this was happening right now. 

Your nipples poke you, his teasing was getting to you. "One." You insisted. He chuckled as his slender finger ran down your slit, teasing your hole. Your legs spread a bit wider but there wasn't much room in the tub. His warm lips sucking on your soapy skin, you smell like lavender and fucking sunshine, that's how you always smelt. So warm and inviting. That's how you were and that's why loved you so much. 

"Two." His last offer before his fingers slowly find their way inside you. "Ooh... Oscar." 

You could feel a smile of victory against your skin, he took his fingers out and rested them on your clit. Your hips buck once again. "Two." He said. 

For fuck sake!

"Okay, okay, two. Just move, please." 

He laughed, you'd scowl at him if he didn't start rubbing your bundle of nerves. Your head fell back on his shoulder, one hand worked between your legs while the other squeezed your sensitive breasts, tweaking your nipples. You whined moving your hips forward, you didn't even care anymore, you were so desperate to get to where you needed to be. 

Oscar groaned, "Mi amor, despacito, you're so needy." 

"Oscar, fuck, please. I just want you inside me." You cried out. He kissed your back, his hands on your waist as he adjusted you over his full length, he slipped in carefully. Your eyes disappeared, the whites were the only part that showed, your jaw slacked open. "¿Estas bíen?"

You could only manage to nod. He slid down the tub, lying down at an angle so you could be comfortable, you lay back on him and with his help, you raise your hips up and down on his shaft. He was stretching you out in the best way, a delicious sensation coursing through your skin as he penetrated you so deeply, fuck you were so full. 

"My pretty baby. Look at how fucking pretty you are. I'm keeping you pregnant." He cooed mumbling the last part. If he kept making you feel this good, you might just give him what he wants. His mushroom tip poked and prodded at the sweet spot buried inside you. You cry and clench around him, your pussy almost weeping and begging for more. "Coño Bonita." 

Your head lulled back as he whispered in your ear, nibbling on the lobe from time to time. "You feel so good, so soft. fuck." He strained. His hand found its way between your thighs once again, his fingers playing with your equally needy clit. It was becoming too much. "Oh god, baby... O-Oscar!" 

You were there. You were right there. 

"I-I'm- I'm-" 

"I know, it's okay, go ahead." 

As if you needed the permission you didn't know you were asking for. Your body twitched, legs shaking as they closed around his wrist that was still snug between them. You squirmed, your orgasm taking over your body. Electricity piercing your veins. "Keep coming for me, don't worry." 

He was using you to get himself to his peak and it was hot, he wasn't stopping, your body continuously moving up and down. Hugging his thickness for his pleasure. "I'm cumming, in that pretty fucking pussy, hermosa." 

You were long gone, your body limp as your high was coming down. You quietly moaned feeling his hot seed spread inside you, you giggled lazily. "Fuck..." He chuckled. "You okay?" 

"Mhm." You sounded sleepy. "Come on, we'll clean off before you fall asleep in here." He laughed. 

You let him do all the work, washing you off before himself then helping you out of the tub wrapping a towel around you. 

You quickly dried off and headed inside your shared bedroom, going over to your side of the dresser where all your products stood. You did your usual night routine and once you were done you found yourself in one of his old shirts and one of his baggy shorts. He laughed lightly as he entered the room. 

You looked down at yourself, you did look a bit ridiculous. "What?" You pouted. He made his way over to you, his hands cupping your face, your palms cuffing his wrists. "You are so fucking cute and I fucking love you." He smiled pressing a kiss to your lips, you dissolved in his touch, melting into his kiss. He pulled back slightly but you chased him reattaching your lips. 

There was that feeling between your legs again. "Ma-mamita." He chuckled as you smooched him. You whined. He kissed your forehead letting go of your face. His hand hitting your, lately overly ample, ass. You squealed. "Get on the bed." He instructed untucking his towel from his waist. 

"Wha-" 

He spanked you again. 

"I'm trynna show you why we're gonna have four more." 

If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. see you in the next one. peace and love 🤙🏾

Tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit @skyesthebomb

who might be interested: @blkbutterfly816 @miyahmaraj @librarian1002 @bigenergy777

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

omg I just find you and your writings are amazing♥️

Can you please do some husband headcanons please?

surely, i can try my best, thanks for the ask!!

Husband Headcanons I

for Iruka, Kakashi, and Itachi (with wildcard appearances from Jiraiya and Obito) (GN!Reader)

Your fav isn't mentioned? Check out Husband Headcanons 2!

Warnings: couple swear words, couple sexual references (Reader Discretion advised), fluff, lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Would suggest the springtime for the wedding, but Iruka would still happily marry you whenever your heart desired

Danced with you throughout the entire reception, only getting tipsy (enabling you to get comfortably inebriated)

Begs to carry you over the threshold like a gentleman, and the two of you spent the whole night consumating the union

Best sex you had ever had, and Iruka was of the same mind - both of you were totally in your element on your wedding night, and couldn't stop until noon the next day

Honeymoon takes place in the Land of Flowers, within a small settlement near the coast

Iruka pays for a week's stay at an Inn, and the two of you spend the days watching the water and walking through wildflower fields, collecting colourful, fragrant bouquets as you went

Domestically, such a teamplayer - Iruka will happily do the dishes after you cook dinner, and vice versa, he'll mop after you sweep, he turns on lights for you while you open windows

Would happily have a pet, probably a cat (orange or calico), but wouldn't be opposed to something a bit more spunky like a gekko or a rat

Dances with you in the living room while it rains, takes you (and your pet) out in the sunshine - he just loves to spend time with you and be with you

Kakashi

The wedding was small, kept to just close friends and your immediate family, probably just within the courthouse with a nice little reception after

Kakashi would carry you all the way from the reception to your shared apartment, right over the threshold, and it would take only a Hokage-level emergency to get him away from you after

Can't take a very long honeymoon because of his duties as Hokage, but will take you out for a long weekend in one of the coastal villages of the Land of Fire

Despite the long hours he works, Kakashi is the most attentive husband ever

Fresh flowers decorate a crystal vase on the coffee table, replaced every week, the trash is always taken out without you having to ask, he'll surprise you with full breakfasts on the weekends AND do the dishes after

Gets all bubbly every time he hits someone with a my spouse and is constantly bringing you up in conversation just to do so

Many nights are spent cuddling on the couch after dinner, reading independantly

You want a dog? Lovely! Kakashi wants a dog. You want a cat? Great! Kakashi wants a cat. A bird? A snake? A gerbil? Bring it on, that sounds fun.

Such a funny man, still needing to parade around the village with you in his arm, as if not everybody is already aware

Itachi

We're doing an Everything'sFine!AU because I'll cry otherwise

Massive wedding, so many floral arrangements, easily half the village shows up, Itachi cannot stop smiling the entire day

Literally tears up at the altar when he sees you, can't contain himself, you're such a vision

Takes you to the Land of Waterfalls for the most peaceful honeymoon of all

You two spend a week, or two, meditating with each other, drinking special teas, swimming for hours, wrapped in a lover's embrace that knits your hearts together even closer

Of course, in the hustle and bustle of the weekdays, Itachi establishes Saturday as Cleaning Day, and will clean the entire house, top to bottom, by himself (but will very much appreciate any help you provide)

Sunday is the day Itachi reserves to spend with you, either out on the town, or in the house, resting and relaxing together

Compliments every single look of yours as if it's the first time he's ever seen you, Itachi just can't believe his luck, and gets heart palpatations every single time he hears you call him your husband

Gets way more vulnerable after marriage, allowing himself to open up with a different level of confidence

Jiraiya

Destination wedding so people don't want to come, he wants the ceremony to be perfect and intimate

Gets so fucked up at the reception that you have to carry him over the threshold

He's such a sweetie about it when he wakes up though, apologising and fucking you reaaal good the entirety of the next day

Takes you on a month of travel, literally to every single Land

Writes you special poems and stories to wake up to while he's cheffing up the best breakfasts ever

Writes an entire book about you, and it was a best-seller

No one makes a better cup of tea than Jiraiya, and he's always got a tea ready for when you wake up, when you come home, after dinner

The absolute king of being in the same room while doing separate things, you're in his lap or holding his non-dominant hand, and every once in a while you'll share a brief kiss that might evolve into something a bit more distracting

Hugging and kissing as soon as you come home - he missed you so damn bad and needs to let you know

Is a very organized messy, but not at all dirty, Jiraiya doesn't mind when you clean up after him but would honestly prefer you didn't (he can't find things after, even if you tell him exactly where you put things)

Birthdays, Anniversaries, any opportunity to shower you in love and gifts, Jiraiya will take it and run with it

He just adores you and lets everyone know about it

Obito

Goofball gets an Officiant Certification and marries the two of you, himself

His vows are so long and so sweet that you can't even get yours out without stuttering and crying

Obito whisks you away to the Land of Hotsprings for nearly a month, immediately after the rings are exchanged

Finds nothing more fun than going out on dates with you while married, he almost likes it more than when you two were just going steady

Can't stand to let you sleep while he's awake, no matter how poorly he feels about depreiving you of sleep

Kisses and hugs every time the two of you are reunited

Obito won't ever shut up about you when you're apart, and it gets on everyone's nerves but Konan who finds his musings sweet

Lives, loves, laughs domestic life - he will do anything to make you happy, including the most grueling chores (those fucking baseboards)

Always makes you laugh, no matter how you're feeling, and he loves your laugh more than anything

[baby-yongbok]

What Are You Looking At?

Dom!Seungmin x Sub!Fem!Reader

-`♡´- Genre: Smut, some plot mostly porn

-`♡´- Summary: One question turned into an entire scene

-`♡´- Word Count: 3.9k

-`♡´- Warnings: Dominant/Submissive Dynamics, Hard Dom Seungmin and a bit of Dom Hyunjin, Choking, Slapping [for a second] , Degradation, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Mentions of other members relationships, OT8 are involved, Previous consent implied, use of sex toys in public, Aftercare [Some on screen, more implied off screen] (Sorry If I missed any)

-`♡´- A/N: This was something that I've wanted to post for a while but I just never got around to editing it until now! I hope that you enjoy! And yes the reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡. This fic was 100% self-indulgent and contributed towards my Seungmin Brainrot

❥ Names Used Towards Reader: Slut, Pathetic, Pitiful, Whore

-`♡´- Masterlist -`♡´-

It’s not everyday that your boyfriend invites you to be his date to an event, so when Seungmin invited you to attend one of the many events to promote the new album with him and his members, you excitedly accepted. It’s been a while since you’ve all gotten together and any day with all of the boys is more than entertaining so you found yourself getting more excited than usual for this event. 

Of course, Seungmin had one condition when he invited you, he had to pick out your entire outfit. It was a fairly upscale event so formal attire was the only appropriate choice. You knew the moment that he requested to pick out your outfit that you’d be matching your man, it’s something that he loves but will never admit. He loves when the two of you look like a couple and carry similar visual energies. 

Your outfits were fairly basic. He had a white dress shirt and black slacks with small more flashy designer elements incorporated into the outfit. For you, he picked out a black gown of the same brand that he was wearing. It’s his go to dress for you to wear at events when he wants you to be on everyone’s radar. When he wants the two of you to be eye-catching and wants every single person in the room to eye the dips and curves of your perfect plush figure.  

There was one condition to your outfit though, a dare of sorts. 

“Why are these here?” You asked as you looked over the outfit laid out on your bed. The soft black panties with the built in vibrator along the gusset were resting on top of your velvety black gown.

“Ah, right, I wanted to propose a little game for the night.” You eyed Seungmin through the bedroom mirror as he fiddled with the glossy buttons of his dress shirt. “ You wear those and let me control them throughout the night. If you hide it well you get to be in charge tonight.” 

Your face lights up at the sound of his offer. You’ve been begging him to let you dominate him in bed for months but he always turns you down.  

“If you make it too obvious or get caught in any way then I get to use you all night.” He turns to face you, slipping a hand into his pocket. “And I can use any toy that I please.”

You suck your teeth at him, he’s been itching to use the new spreader bar that he ordered a month ago since the day that it arrived. You weren’t sure about it when it got here and you still aren’t very sure about it now. Of course you think that it’ll be fun to use but you know Seungmin and you know just how rough he likes to be when you aren’t restricted by any toys or rope so you can only imagine how it’ll be when your legs are permanently spread open for him. You think for a second, trying to weigh your options but the thought of being able to be in charge of him for a night is way too tempting to pass up. 

“Deal.” You smile, holding out your pinky finger and he copies the action twisting his finger around yours and leaning in for a swift kiss. 

“Good luck, I’m not gonna take it easy on you.”

“Would it be so horrible to let me be in charge?” You scoff as you slip the panties on, aligning the vibrator to rest against your clit and folds comfortably. 

“Nah.” Just as you move to pick up your dress a deep vibration rumbles through your core and a gasp leaves your lips followed by a choked moan. You glare over at your boyfriend, his hand is in his pocket, most likely holding the tiny remote, and there’s a devious smirk resting on his lips while he watches you. “I just figured that if I’m gonna do it I should make you work for it.”

“You’re not gonna break me.” You roll your eyes as you push your thighs together, the vibrations stop abruptly and you let out a breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“You know that I love a challenge."

You were more than excited when you saw all of the boys, but they seemed ten times more excited to see you. They updated you on everything that they could think of from games that they’ve started playing, songs that they started writing, and Hyunjin even let you get a sneak peak into his art folder on his phone. Of course, Seungmin decided to torture you in the most delicious way the entire time, but much to his dismay, you held your composure, even with him whispering pure filth into your ear all evening. You’ve been through your fair share of edging and teasing since dating Seungmin so a game like this was nothing compared to the countless times that you’ve begged and cried on his cock after being fucked for hours on end. He’s the type of dominant that takes pleasure in training his submissive and you’re the type of submissive that loves to do everything so perfectly that it’s almost infuriating, especially for someone like Seungmin who has a thing for taming brats.

“Can I have a coffee too?” You asked as you sat between Hyunjin and Changbin. Your boyfriend only glared at you as he stood from his seat and made his way over to the coffee machine to make himself a drink. You try your best to hide your smirk as you push your thighs together. He's being extra mean to you today and all of the guys have noticed it. They’ve all been extremely nice to you to make up for it but what they don’t know is that this is all a part of Seungmin’s game. He knows that you’re an absolute slut for degradation and that each nasty word and eyeroll is getting under your skin and sending a shock right to your clit but to the guys the two of you are just having a bad day. 

Changbin puts in his request right after you and follows by repeating your question but he’s met with silence just as you were a second ago. Instead of answering either of you, Seungmin starts talking to Jeongin about something that you’re barely paying any attention to as he makes everyone a drink except you, allegedly. 

You zone out as Changbin starts messing with Hyunjin, he’s teasing him about something random and the sound of them laughing registers as a distant echo as you take the time to admire just how good your man looks right now. You’ve seen Seungmin in more suits than you can count but there’s something about what he’s wearing tonight that has you in a choke hold. Maybe it's the perfect fit of his pressed dress shirt or the way the fabric of his dress pants stretches over his thighs. It could also be the fact that you’ve been edged by these damn vibrating panties for the past two and a half hours. You sat through an entire press conference as your boyfriend messed with the tiny remote in his pocket, watching you from the corner of his eye and stopping the vibration right when he saw your eyes roll back or noticed your balance become a bit unsteady. 

 You watch him as he takes out his phone and glances over at you for no more than a second before looking down at his screen. The micro interaction snaps you out of your daze and you pull your attention over to Changbin as you try your best to focus on anything else.

“You looked so cute on the stage, Hyunjinnie.” Changbin continues to tease the man next to you as he reaches behind you to pinch at his cheeks. Hyunjin moves away, dodging his hand and looking down at his phone, most likely to text his girlfriend who’s a close friend of yours. You smile to yourself since you’re the one who introduced them to each other and played cupid for a bit until they fell for each other.

“Binnie, he’s gonna keep ignoring you if you don’t -” You’re cut off by a loud gasp that catches Changbin off guard and startles Felix who’s sitting next to him. You clear your throat and shift in your seat a bit, trying your best to calm down as the vibrator buzzes against your core at its highest setting. Once you feel that you’ve settled a bit you glare over at your boyfriend with the calmest expression you can manage to keep. He stares back at you, matching your expression with a hint of a smirk on his face. 

"What are you looking at?" The slight smile on his face contradicts the bite in his voice and you find yourself pressing your plush thighs together again. The pressure against your clit pushes you closer to your orgasm but that’s the last thing that you want to do. You can’t cum here in front of all of his friends, not because it would be embarrassing, the two of you have talked about putting on a show for his friends for a long time and you’re more than into it, but if you cum right now in front of everyone you’ll lose the game. There’s no way that you’re losing this. 

"Seungmin, stop being so mean to her, what's up with you two?" Hyunjin tries to come to your defense, pushing his phone into his pocket and glaring at the younger member as you choke back a moan.

"She's a slut." His tone is flat like he’s speaking a well known fact.

"Hey, whoa why would you say that?" It's Changbin's turn to defend you, he sounds more than fed up with the attitude that your partner has had towards you today. Gosh, if only he knew the half of it.

"Because it's true, you're a slut aren't you?" Seungmin turns his attention towards you, taking a couple of steps forward and standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you hold back. He notices every slight raise of your eyebrows and the way that you lightly bite at your bottom lip, he knows that he’s winning. All movement in the room comes to a subtle stop as the members watch the situation unfold in front of them. You can hear the door open and close quickly and you assume that what was left of the staff decided to give you all some privacy, thank gosh.

"Seungmin, seriously, stop it." Chan speaks up as he makes his way to the side of the couch that you’re sitting on with Changbin and Hyunjin. Your boyfriend is way too invested in you to heed his warning, he’s way too focused on winning to care about what anyone else says. He rolls up his sleeves further before kneeling in front of you and grabbing your jaw harshly. 

“Look at me.” You swiftly fix your gaze on him, earning more of a smile from the dark haired man in front of you. You can hear Han, Jeongin and Minho protest the harsh action in your defense. They all turn their chairs to face the two of you and Changbin moves over a bit to give you some room between him and Hyunjin. 

“Seungmin seriously.” Chan protests again, putting his hand on the younger member's shoulder but he swiftly shrugs it off, never taking his eyes off of you. 

"Tell them." You whimper at his request as you bat your thick lashes at him. Your glassy doe eyes tell him everything that he needs to know, He’s studied every single part of you, every move and every sound. You’re trying so hard to keep it in but your sub space is setting in heavy especially with all of these eyes on you, it just turns you on ten times more. You’re a sucker for being a good girl for your man especially when there’s an audience.  

"I'm a slut." Your words come out in a gasp as a tear trails down your cheek. The vibration abusing your clit feels so much more intense as your vision becomes hazy and your body starts to feel like it’s floating. Seungmin’s fully smiling now, admiring how pretty you look in your headspace. Since you’ve slipped into yours it’s time for him to fully slip into his. He’s in full dominant mode now, he’s hyper vigilant, using his extensive knowledge of you to lead him through the scene. Han stands from his seat, looking over the younger man's shoulder, unsure of what to say. 

"Tell. Them. Now." A small yet firm slap to your cheek punctuates each word that comes out of his mouth and you can hear Felix’s deep voice start to protest before it’s cut off by a deep moan leaving your parted lips. It feels like the air in the room thickened as soon as the sound registered, you blink a couple of times as you try to think of a way to cover it up, maybe you can say that you’re just kidding, maybe you can say that it was all a filthy prank. Maybe you’ll just ignore Seungmin’s orders, you need to win this game, there’s no way that you can lose.

Your thoughts are racing at a hundred miles per hour, but the moment that your eyes meet your partner's brown ones again, you cave. You crack completely, slipping deep enough into your sub space to be at his mercy. You know that he’d never put you in an unsafe situation and you both have even spoken to the guys about letting them sit in on a scene between you and him some day, you just didn’t know that today would be the day, to be fair none of them did, not even Seungmin.

"What the fuck?" That’s all that he can manage to think of but instead of answering him Seungmin waves at him dismissively. 

"Shh you'll miss the best part." His eyes stay on yours as he watches you slip and even through your hazy state you don’t dare to break his gaze.

"Color?" Changbin furrows his brows at the question that leaves your boyfriend's lips and Hyunjin raises his. You mumble a weak ‘green’ and you can hear your boyfriend confirm your response faintly before you turn your attention back over to your rising orgasm.

"No fucking way." Hyunjin scoffs in disbelief, a surprised yet entertained smile on his face. 

"Looks like you got caught." Seungmin teases as he exchanges looks with Hyunjin, the only other open and proud dominant in the room. Since you introduced Hyunjin to your close friend who is now his girlfriend and submissive, he and Seungmin have often talked about having semi-public scenes with their partners in front of the other members. Hyunjin swore that he'd be the first to do it but it looks like Seungmin beat him to it. 

"Pathetic isn't she?" Seungmin asks towards Hyunjin and he clicks his tongue in response. 

"Absolutely pitiful." 

"Why the fuck are you guys doing that? She's fucking crying for Christ's sake." Minho makes his way over to stand next to Chan and at this point there's an entire circle around the two of you. Hyunjin watches you with curious eyes and an amused grin as you press your plush thighs together which truly isn’t helping the violent pulsing of your clit against your panties. 

Seungmin watches you too, keeping note of your reaction and searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's sure that you’re fine he lets go of his grip on your jaw and you whine at the loss of contact. You’re way too far gone to care about how you look or sound now, all that you know is that you're absolutely desperate for release and you’ll do anything to get it.

"You guys don't believe that she's a slut?" The room is quiet in response to Seungmin's question as they all watch her. Now they're catching on. "Watch."

Seungmin's hand cages your neck swiftly, pinning you against the curved back of the couch. His grip is light at first as he only applies a soft amount of pressure to the sides of your throat but you can feel his grip gradually become more intense with each passing second and you can’t help the whining moans that escape you as you fight the urge to rut your hips into the air as your dripping pussy clenches around nothing. 

"Seungmin, what the -'' Changbin is cut off by a loud whiny moan escaping you once Seungmin hits the pressure that you go dumb for. You lose your self control almost instantly and give into your horny desire to rut your hips into the air, desperate for any type of friction. 

"Such a whore. You want to cum?" You shake your head as best you can with whines falling from your lips uncontrollably. "Hyunjin, countdown from five."

"I'd love to." Hyunjin, turns more towards the two of you to get a clear look at the desperation on your face with each number that passes.

 "Five” He waits for a couple of seconds too long, clearly teasing you. Your friend did say that he could be a tease. You just wish that you weren’t finding that out right now. “Four...Three.”

He rests his chin in his palm, pretending to be bored with the task despite the smirk on his face “Three and a half....Two....hm where was I?"

Seungmin chuckles at your frustrated whine as Hyunjin fake pouts towards the two of you.

"Better start over to be sure." 

"I think you're right, let's see." Hyunjin takes a deep breath and you can’t help but to let out a deep desperate cry as tears flow down your cheeks. You’ve been holding back for so long that it feels like every inch of your body is on fire. You know the rules: If you cum without permission you get punished. Seungmin’s punishments are anything but fun. He has a talent for coming up with the most grueling punishments that could ever cross a dominants mind. You’ve learned to love them in a strange way but you’ve already lost the game, you don’t want to give him more to look forward to tonight. 

"So pretty when you cry" Seungmin smirks at Hyunjin’s comment while the others around them simply watch in aroused confusion. They haven't taken their eyes off of you since the beginning and they wouldn’t dream of even blinking now.  

"Alright so let’s do it nice and slow this time. One, Two, Three.”

“Three and a half.” He pauses, closing his eyes to ‘think’ for a second “Four....Four and a half.... Hmm.”

“What's after that?" Seungmin teases in mock confusion and Hyunjin shrugs as he looks around at the other members who now seem more than entertained by the game the two are playing.

"Mm, I don't remember. Do you remember, Felix?" Hyunjin asks the blonde sitting next to Changbin as he shifts his gaze fully towards you so that he can admire the way your eyes roll back as your body practically shakes with anticipation. Seungmin loosened his grip on your neck a couple of seconds ago but you haven’t stopped moaning and whimpering ever since he first touched you. 

"No clue." Hyunjin smiles as Felix plays along with him and Seungmin’s game.

"Hm, what about you Chan? Do you remember what comes after four?" Seungmin looks over at his elder, giving him a slight head tilt to confirm that he can truly answer. The once confused but now fully aroused member takes a second before replying. He looks over at you before finally saying the very thing that you’ve been dying to hear

"Five" You gasp in excitement as your lidded eyes meet the lust glazed ones of your partner. It’s almost like you forgot that everyone else was in the room. All that mattered was Seungmin and you only wanted to hear him say one thing.

"Lucky girl" Seungmin pulls you forward by your neck, the harsh movement makes you drag out a loud and lazy moan. "Cum."

Without so much as a second thought you’re letting go in front of everyone. You’re shaking, crying and gasping like a fish out of water as your orgasm rips through you like the venom of a vampire. You lean forward into Seungmin as you grid your cunt against the couch and rest your head on his shoulder. He moves his hand from your neck to your back as he rubs soothing circles into the velvet fabric of your dress. 

“That’s my girl. Sounds so pretty, did so well.” Everyone watches as they weave through various stages of amazement and disbelief as you come down from your high.

Once he sees that you’re riding out the pleasure Seungmin reaches into his pocket to turn off the vibrator. You pant against him, small whimpers escaping you as tears roll down your cheeks. 

“Han, would you pass me a water bottle please?” He does as he asks, leaning over a shocked Minho to reach for the water bottles on the table and handing one to Seungmin.

“I’ll get you your coffee and then I’ll hold you alright? Can you wait for just a second?” He whispers in your ear and you nod against him the best that you can. Usually he’d ask you to use your words but he figured that he’ll let it slide this time.

 Seungmin gives you a soft kiss on your cheek before leaning you back against the couch. You nearly fall over into Changbin who holds you up awkwardly before Hyunjin moves in a bit closer to you. He gives Seungmin a look, asking for permission to touch you which your partner swiftly allows before standing from his spot in front of you and moving back to the coffee machine. He rolls up his sleeves that have fallen down a bit as he starts the machine again and starts to make your favorite aftercare drink. 

Hyunjin puts his arm around you and he allows you to rest on his chest, he rubs up and down your arm and whispers to you to try and ground you a bit. This isn’t the first time that you and Seungmin have done a scene with Hyunjin so he’s no stranger to the type of aftercare that you receive. The rest of the boys look between your limp body resting against your friend and your boyfriend who’s nonchalantly operating the coffee machine while they  quietly try to put the pieces together and figure out exactly what they just witnessed. Seungmin feels the burning stares on the side of his face as he waits for your glass to fill and turns towards his members with a straight face. 

"What are you looking at?" No one responds, they all just stare between you as they open and close their mouths and try to figure out the right question to ask while attempting to hide their aching hard ons. The room stays quiet until Jeongin sighs and stands from his seat.

"Is anyone going to ask what the fuck just happened or is it going to have to be me?"

[Note: In a healthy BDSM dynamic or scene all members involved should consent before hand. This is a work of fiction and is no way a representation of what real ethical scenes should look like unless there are clear boundaries.]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 1

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You always felt small. Shelves, table, counters, even chairs made your shortcoming, pun intended, more obvious. Even at the one time in your life when you should feel big, you feel even tinier. 

The rounder your stomach becomes, the smaller the rest of your seems. It really doesn't feel like a part of you. That life inside you that has your shirts tighter by the say and the elastic stretching further and further.  

Swollen feet, hands, and chest, and yet you're still just a speck of dust in the wind. The grocery store so often adds to that sensation of insignificance. The cart rattles over the tile as you weave between other shoppers, veering out of the way as others turn corners without looking. Your progress down the list of needs is slower than usual but you're persistent. 

You stop in the bread section and peruse the assortment of rye and sourdough. You've been craving pumpernickel forever. You pick out a loaf and check your list. Bread crumbs... 

You spot your quarry and reach for the highest shelf. Of course it has to be all the way up there. You grunt and teeter on your toes, your goal made hard as your stomach keeps you from getting very close. 

“Allow me, sweetness,” a man says as he comes up behind you. 

You squeak in surprise as he crowds you and reaches up to grab the canister of crumbs. As he does, he presses himself to you, a none-too-subtle grind of his pelvis against your ass. You gasp and elbow him. 

“Ew, get off,” you squeal. 

“Now, now, honey buns, I got it,” he offers the canister, his arm hooking around to show the crumbs, “you just gotta say please.” 

“What the heck? Can you back up--” 

“Now, that’s not very polite, baby girl,” he shakes the crumbs and moves them away from your grasp as you try to snatch them. 

“I said back--” 

Your voice evaporates in shock and horror as he slaps your ass. You clutch the shelf and brace yourself as the force nearly has you crashing into the metal. You set your feet, regretting your choice of squishy and treadless slides, and he snakes his hand under your dress, trailing along the scalloped edge of your panties. 

“Stop,” you wisp, terrified at this man’s brazenness. Why is he doing this? How is no one else seeing this? 

His hand curls around and he stops as he touches your lower stomach. He hesitates and stretches his fingers over your bump. You’re only four-months but far enough that it’s obvious. 

“Shit,” he chortles and pushes his hand down, pressing against the front of your cotton panties, “someone beat me to it, huh?” 

He pokes the fabric between your folds with two fingers, wiggling them around. You shudder and squeeze the edge of the shelves. He creases the cotton between his fingers and pulls it aside. He pinches your thigh and you whimper as he kicks a foot between yours. 

“What--” you gasp and push back against him, trying to escape. “Please--” 

Your voice cracks and something inside you breaks. You can’t move or make a sound. He touches the tuft of hair along your pelvis and delves nakedly between your folds. You hold your breath as he toys with you, rubbing your clit dryly as he pushes his crotch against your back. 

What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you doing anything? Why can’t you? 

He just carries on, rolling your bud under his fingers until you feel yourself react. It’s the hormones, not you. You’re scared, not weak. That’s what’s going on. What is going on? 

All at once, he retracts his hand. He leaves you quivering and wet and to your shame, wanting. He snickers again and tosses the canister so it lands in your cart. You cling to the shelves, legs shaking, and stare at the wrapped loaves in stunned silence. You hear him suck loudly on his fingers and hum. 

“Naughty mommy,” he tisks and struts away.  

You can’t move. You’re paralyzed in disbelief. That didn’t just happen. A stranger just touched you. Like that. And you’re wet. You look down as your knees buckle. 

You manage to move away from the shelves and look around. You can’t pick the man out from the scatter of shoppers puttering around like drones. His sleeve was black but half the men their have black jackets. Your lip trembles as your eyes brim with tears. You don’t know what to do. 

You turn to your cart and grab the handle, rolling it forward. Your eyes fall to the white and yellow canister that rolls across the bottom. You stop and skirt around to reach into the basket, looking around before you bend to fish out the bread crumbs. You place them on the table of croissants nearby and push the cart onward. 

You’ll do grilled instead of fried. You never want to think of what happened again. You hope you never see that man again. Would you even know him at a glance? 

[o-sachi]

Do a Somersalt ! ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars. (Request)

ଳ how would the blue lock boys react to a gymnast s/o who is muscular? ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, chigiri hyoma, michael kaiser, shidou ryusei ଳ tags; floof, afab reader, no y/n

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

"You're going to the gym? Can I come too?"

The man is absolutely mesmerized by you. The way you look alone never fails to amaze him. But when you're in your element? He's definitely somewhere—melting into a puddle after witnessing your moves.

An absolute sucker for your muscles, especially the thighs. He'll poke at 'em, squish 'em, and lay his head on 'em.

He will always always always ask to watch your competitions. It's only fair that he provide moral support for you since you do the same for his football games. Hell—even if it's just practice, he'll try to come and watch you anyway.

He loves the way you look, but a small part of him wants to be more muscular as well because he thinks he'd embarrass you if he wasn't as lean as you :(

"Hey, what would you think if I were more muscular?" / "Hmm, I'd be pretty proud, but you look great as you are." / "Be for real." / "I am being for real though?"

Doesn't really dwell on that thought. It's more of a fleeting one if anything. He's more preoccupied about admiring you anyway.

ᯓ Bachira Meguru

"How the fuck did you flip like that? I wanna do it too."

Expect him to hound you about teaching him all your "cool" moves. He'll ask about the complicated ones even though both of you know that he won't be doing that with just an explanation, a demo, and a prayer.

Bachira's quite flexible though, so you do manage to teach him some stuff. He was SO ecstatic the first time he was able to do a move that you two had been going over for an hour.

"Babe, I think I'm ready to do a double back salto tucked with a triple twist." / "Okay, first of all, even I can't do that... and two, how do you know that?" / "There's this little thing called 'the internet'?"

He's not really one to be too observant of what body type his s/o has, but he'll always compliment your muscles.

The way his face lights up when both of you find out you can lift him up like a baby is priceless. It may or may not be the reason why he loves your muscles so much...

ᯓ Nagi Seishiro

"Ah... can you carry me back? What? I'm not that heavy..."

Nagi loves your muscles. They're firm, but they make good pillows. He says he falls asleep faster when he's in your arms or when his head is resting on your lap.

Another reason is because you can give him piggyback rides. Sure, he's more than 6 feet tall and still weighs more than you, but you suck it up and try to lift him anyway.

He's so in awe of all the moves that you do on the bars or on the floor. If he's watching you compete, he's most likely thinking about how much of a hassle those moves are.

"Don't you get tired of swinging around like that? Looks tough." / "You know that football matches are 90 minutes long, right?" / "...I know and I hate running for that long."

After both of your trainings, he'll invite you to take a long ass nap in the ac and under the comfiest blanket ever. It's impossible to say no to him.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

"Hey, your video got 500 likes already—as expected."

He pretty much has documented your entire career with how many pictures and videos he has taken of you training or performing. He has his own archive for your competitions too.

"Baby, there is no such thing as too much when it comes to you." / "Um... actually—" / "Shhh... shh..."

You two have the same trainer, nutritionist, manager—everything. He'll introduce you to his team that keeps him in tip-top shape for football so that you can be your best self in gymnastics too.

If he's unable to attend a competition of yours, he'll send someone to watch and record it for him.

Of course, he'll make it up by throwing an epic celebration for you regardless if you won or not. Reo will shower you with endless praise.

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma

"The judges don't know what the fuck they're doing, honestly."

He's like... such a mom when he comes to watch your competitions. He'll be sitting in the audience—both amazed and a bit worried when you do risky moves.

When the judges score lower than what he expects, he'll start muttering under his breath about how stupid they are and that you deserve WAAAY higher.

The biggest hype man ever. It doesn't matter if you won or lost—he'll always express his admiration for you. If you did win, he'll celebrate the heck out of it with you. But if you lost, he'll reassure you and still celebrate for the effort you put in.

He likes choosing your leotard and hairstyle for you. When you give him the liberty to do so, the biggest smile appears on his face.

"Hmm... this purple one looks good, but I like the red one too." / "Hyoma, you know I'm only going to practice, right?" / "I know, I know."

ᯓ Michael Kaiser

"I only got into it because of you, y'know?"

He will shamelessly ogle your muscles. It's one thing that they look great. But it's another to know that you put in tons of hard work and discipline into building that kind of body. And he respects that quite a lot.

His knowledge of gymnastics when you first started dating was little to none. But suddenly he's so into it now. He watches other gymnasts' routines and learns the common moves and rules in competitions.

Mihya acts lowkey about it, but he feels a sense of pride seeing you happy when the two of you get to talk about the thing you love the most. It'll start of with him initiating the topic, then you'll just rant until you're tired. He won't complain though.

He felt like his heart was sucked right out of his chest when he saw your outfit for a certain competition. It was a black and blue leotard with blue roses on it. You swore his eyes watered a bit, but apparently it was just the wind...

"Well... you look great." / "Are you crying?" / "Huh? Crying? Psh. You're literally seeing things." / "Okay, Gaslighter3000."

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei

"Heh, wanna bet who can do more flips in a minute?"

He's actually glad that you're strong and muscular because it means he doesn't have to hold back as much. Also, he's just into the whole muscle mommy thing. Yes, he's that guy.

Shidou knows you can do pretty amazing things which, of course, leads to the most bizarre hypotheticals and bets ever.

"Babe, do you think you could flip off of that ledge?" / "Seriously. Look at it. It's like twice your height and it's all cement." / "Oh so then you're lame? I bet I could do that."

As much as you'd love to bring him to competitions... he just gets too excited (not that kind of excited). He'll start shouting and cheering you to the point that everyone will be looking at him.

His phone's storage is like 70% videos of you performing moves or you training. He finds it adorable when you're putting in work and doing things that can blow people away.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️THREE

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO THREE FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN

He finds out the girl he picked up on a whim is the perfect candidate. So innocent, so submissive already, with just the right amount of Daddy issues. But she still has a lot to learn, and he's determined to teach her everything.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Sex toys. Fingering. Cunnilingus. Orgasm denial. Oral sex/deepthroating. Anal play. Creampies. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 4.9k

TWO 🟥 THREE 🟥 FOUR

He's surprised how quickly she adjusted to her new surroundings, to the things he's asked of her, forced on her. Maybe she's still feeling the after-effects of the drug he's given her last night, maybe she doesn't understand the situation just yet, maybe she's simply the perfect candidate for this. To stay here, for him. She's barely putting up any fight, only seems embarrassed most of the time, but the way she's sucked him off has shown him how eager she really is.

Even though she still has a long way to go. Too fucking innocent.

She's that little ball of hair and limbs on his lap, curled up, melting into him, small hands that have been around his cock now gripping his shirt. Feet tucked under his thigh, deep little breaths against his chest. It's been only a few hours, and she's already so submissive. He's almost disappointed he didn't get to break her first. But maybe her defiance is yet to come. He's certainly looking forward to it.

His phone chimes on the coffee table, and he throws a quick look at the display. The courier is here. Good. Without a word, he stands, picking her up effortlessly. She hums against him, leans into him as he carries her into the bedroom. When he puts her down on the bed, leaning over her for a moment, he meets her hooded eyes. So pliant, so innocent. He can't help but lean down further to press his lips to hers.

She melts into the mattress as he pushes her deeper, putting his weight on her, elbows on either side of her shoulders as he gives himself a few minutes of a bit more much-needed pleasure before he has to leave her. She's hesitant at first, but as soon as he slips his tongue between her lips, her own jumps into action. A groan escapes him as she kisses him back with more and more confidence. His fingers dig into her hair, their tongues wrestling, his cock stirs back to life against the fabric of his pants.

He leans back abruptly, breathing a little harder, the girl beneath him panting as well, her lips parted and red, glistening. Her eyes on him. “I gotta take care of something,” he tells her quietly. She only blinks. “Be a good girl and wait here for me, okay?” The way her pupils dilate when he calls her that makes his stomach tense up. He's noticed it before, how she reacts to his praise. It's an intoxicating sight.

He crawls off her and stands, looking down at her small frame. White lace was a good choice, accents her innocence perfectly. Those little embroidered flowers barely cover anything, but it's still enough fabric to keep it interesting. She's beautiful, the way she lies in front of him, chest rising and falling, that flutter to her stomach, the little twitch to her thighs as she presses them together and tries to hide her sex. He raises an eyebrow at that.

“While I'm gone,” he says, a smirk growing on his lips, “I have a little task for you.”

He steps towards the nightstand and pulls open the first drawer, randomly picks some of its contents and throws them onto the bed next to her. Her eyes widen when she follows the gesture and stares at the colorful toys. He picks up one of the smaller dildos and braces himself on one arm as he leans over her.

“I want you to be very wet when I come back,” he whispers, gently taking her hand and placing the object onto her small palm. “Understood?”

She still looks at him in shock, and he can already tell she's never used any of the things he's presented her with. Another challenge, another thing he's willing to change. He leans back and looks down at her, head cocked to the side. His eyes narrow slightly when she doesn't reply.

“Understood?” he repeats a little harsher.

A tiny gasp escapes her and she sits up, nodding frantically. “Yes, sir.”

His hand finds her cheek, a gentle caress, thumb running over her bottom lip. He watches her intently. “Good girl.” The shiver that runs through her amuses him immensely. Patting her cheek, he then turns away and leaves her to her own devices.

Returning to his phone, he sends a message to the courier, and minutes later there's a chime on the door. His men are good, and fast, and when he looks through the things in the box that was brought up to his place, he nods in contentment. The things she left in the club, a jacket, a phone, case stuffed with some money, some keys and her ID. He's surprised that she's actually 19, when she looks quite a bit younger. Not that it really matters. His eyes scan her name, memorizing it. Fits her.

There's a folder tucked into the side, all the information they could gather on her, and the more he reads, the wider his smile gets. She is perfect, a random pick, an instinct, and it has still been the best choice. Alone in the big city. He checks her phone, swipes through pictures and messages. There's only one new message, someone congratulating her. Not many social contacts, no Mom or Dad or other relatives. Does explain a few things though. The girl definitely lacked the presence of a proper authority figure in her life, or at least someone who could give her the attention she needs, someone to hug her even, guide her through life, tell her what's right or wrong. No wonder she's so overwhelmed with his advances, yet strangely compliant at the same time.

Daddy issues.

What a perfect little thing that found her way into his clutches. He turns the phone off and puts it back into the box, then locks it securely in the safe in his office, before he focuses on the bag that came with the delivery. Clothes he ordered for her, more underwear mostly, some dresses, shoes. He doesn't plan to take her out much, not yet, so she won't need too many clothes anyway. They're just an illusion of safety for now, something she feels more comfortable in, before he'll take that away as well.

Grabbing the bag, he returns to the bedroom – and freezes. The bed is empty, except for the array of sex toys on the blanket. Untouched, unmoved. And the girl is gone. Something hot rises inside him, his hand tightens around the straps of the bag. He checks the bathroom, also empty. When he opens the door to his walk-in closet, he hears a soft little gasp, before his eyes move down to the far back where she's curled up on her side, wide eyes staring at him from under her lashes.

Like a beaten animal – and he hasn't even done anything to her yet. Not really, anyway.

He puts the bag down on a shelf and approaches her slowly. The dildo he gave her lies in front of her, just as untouched as the rest. She curls up even more, a little ball of hair and limbs, white lace in stark contrast to the dark rug she's lying on. He crouches down, hands resting on his knees as he watches her.

“What are you doing here, baby?” he asks quietly. “Are you hiding from me?”

She sniffles, shakes her head. “No,” she mumbles, wide eyes following his every move. Why is she so skittish all of a sudden? The drugs probably wore off. Poor thing.

He doesn't care. His hand reaches out and grabs her elbow, pulls her closer. A little yelp escapes her. He sits down on the floor and pulls her between his legs, she struggles against him but his fingers close around her arm, squeezing harder than he intended. She winces, a deep shudder rushing through her small body when he drapes her legs over his thigh, making her lean against him. One arm securely around her, holding her with enough authority that she stops squirming, he raises the other hand and grabs her chin, makes her look at him.

“What happened?” he asks, looking at her, scanning her face, fear and shock evident on it.

She averts her eyes, chewing on her lip. He squeezes her chin.

“Look at me.”

She does, with a soft little whine, blinking rapidly, eyes glistening as she meets his gaze. “M'sorry...” she mumbles.

“For what?” His voice is stern, and she frowns at his tone.

“For... for not... doing... what you told me...” she whispers, the first tear falling from her lashes. “I... I couldn't...”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Her cheeks are bright red by now, her eyes moving over his face in frantic little flutters. “Felt... wrong...”

He watches her, letting go of her chin to move his hand straight between her legs. She flinches and yelps when his fingertips brush against her panties. The fabric is a little damp, warm against his touch. He doesn't hesitate and slips a finger under the hem, testing the waters. She turns her head away, whining softly as her blush spreads over her shoulders. “Do you need my help?” he whispers.

She only stiffens in his hold as his finger glides along her slit. Warm, wetter than he expected. He doesn't know why she was so stressed about this task or thinking she failed him. She's perfectly responsive. His lips brush against her temple.

“Tell me you need me to help you...” he breathes against her.

Her thighs twitch. “I... I need you to... to help me...” she mumbles out, burying her face in his chest in a little gesture of embarrassment. So fucking cute.

“Good girl,” he hums and kisses her forehead while his finger slips between her folds, gathers her slick and promptly dips into her entrance.

She flinches, but keeps quiet, leaning into him as he nudges her legs apart with his thumb. His finger slips in and out of her, her tight walls gripping him in a way that makes his cock throb. Her wetness gathers around him, quiet squelching sounds filling his ear. She lets out little noises of discomfort, barely-there whines, almost-sobs but in a way that doesn't seem too distressed. She's slowly adjusting, relaxing in his hold, her breaths deeper.

His thumb finds her clit, and when he pushes gently on it, she wails a little louder, her legs trembling, her small hands gripping the front of his shirt as she melts into him more. He keeps drawing tight circles around her nub, his digit pushing deep, in and out, faster, her wetness runs over his hand. The moment she becomes really still, a sharp inhale cutting through the air, he stops, pulls away, and she looks up with her lips parted, almost pouty, eyebrows furrowed, disappointed.

He smirks at her and brings his wet finger to her lips. She doesn't fight it when he slips it into her mouth, rubs it over her tongue and along her gums, pushes deeper. She freezes again, stares at him, but then she closes her lips around his finger and sucks, her tongue flicking around it, licking up her own juices. He pulls it out with a wet pop and leans down, capturing her mouth for a quick, deep kiss, sucking on her tongue, tasting her. She melts into him, clinging to him, but as soon as she starts to relax again, he lets go, leans back, leans around her to grab the dildo still lying behind her on the floor.

“Here,” he says and puts the small pink object into her hand. “If you want to finish it, do it with this.”

She stares at him, eyes wide, fingers curling around the toy, her face flushed. And then she shakes her head, catching him off guard.

“No?” he whispers, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Her breaths are loud through her nose as she holds his gaze, not saying anything.

He narrows his eyes. His first instinct is to grab the toy and shove it deep into her tight pussy himself, but he refrains, pushes her off his lap and stands, then grabs her wrist and drags her out of the closet. She stumbles after him and yelps when he throws her onto the bed.

Scrambling to her knees, her lips parted and trembling, she stares at him with her eyes wide in shock. He ignores her for now and walks to the bedside table, rummaging through the drawer until he retrieves a little teardrop shaped object, bright pink as well, smooth silicone with a little antenna.

A high-pitched squeal escapes her as he grabs her and pushes her onto her stomach, one large hand on her lower back, holding her down as she starts to squirm. “Stay still or this'll be more uncomfortable than it should be,” he tells her through gritted teeth. She stiffens, her breaths loud and frantic as she white-knuckles the sheets.

He moves the toy between her ass cheeks, pleased to see the butt plug is still in place. Nudging it slightly, he makes her wince. Pushing her legs apart a bit more with his knee, he slides her underwear aside, grabs her thigh to steady her and lets the small vibrator glide between her slick folds, and it's only a little push of his thumb before it slips into her, swallowed up by the tense muscles of her pussy. She lets out a strained whine. He wipes his palm over her mound gently, then tugs on the fat string until he finds the thicker bit at the end. The button clicks audibly when he presses it, and she gasps when the first vibrations shake her body. It's low, but still definitely overwhelming for her.

He puts her thong back in place and grabs her elbow, dragging her off the bed. Her legs are trembling, the low hum between her twitching thighs barely audible, but he hears it, sees her reaction to it, feels his blood pumping into his cock, the throbbing almost painful, and he wonders why he's taking his time with her. He could have had her last night, this morning, any time he wanted, fucked her hard and mercilessly, any hole he desired, and yet he waits, eases her into it, with a patience (or restraint) that surprises himself.

Sighing loudly, he grabs her hand and leads her out of the bedroom, she follows him on shaking limbs, too stunned to protest now. They reach the open kitchen, and he grabs her waist and sets her on the island, hears the faint clanging noise when the base of her plug hits the marble top. Spreading her legs, he steps between them, braces one arm on either side of her, stares down at her darkly.

Her eyes are wide, glistening, shock and uncertainty on her face, but there's also a deep blush and a tightness to her lips as she fights the sensations pulsing through her small body. Her hands fidget between her legs, a nervous little gesture. He rips them away, tells her to sit on them. She does with a bit of hesitation as she watches him with bated breath. He leans in, lets his breath fan over her cheek, then kisses the corner of her mouth, and there's a jerk in her neck as she turns her head, trying to meet his lips.

He pulls away before that, exhaling through his nose. His hands move over her legs, thumbs brushing along her inner thighs until he pushes them against the damp fabric of her underwear. Her wetness seeps past it already, staining the white satin bit, and he licks his lips at the sight. His restraint is slipping, he can't help it, he can smell her arousal, and it's driving him insane.

In one swift motion he grabs her hip, pulls her to the edge and leans down to press his mouth to her inner thigh, quickly kissing up the soft skin to where the little pink antenna pokes out of her. His free hand tugs at it, then he drags her panties aside and closes his lips around her folds. She yelps softly, body jerking against him. His fingers dig into her flesh, hold her in place as he laps up along her slit, gathers her sweet wetness on his tongue, drinks her up like a man parched.

She whimpers when he sucks on her clit, teeth grazing her soft, sensitive skin while he fumbles with the toy and presses the button a few more times, feeling the vibrations increasing, her hips jerking, thighs pressing against his head. Her noises are getting louder, helpless whines and mewls as she squirms on the counter, hands still squished under her legs while he continues to eat her out with a passion that he hasn't felt in ages.

Holding her with one hand, he tries to counteract her uncontrollable twitches, while his other hand rubs over her thigh before his index finger pokes at her entrance, following the toy inside. It's thrumming hard against her tense muscles, and he pushes it around a little with his finger before he finds the right spot, and that's when she really wails, body spasming against him, the heels of her feet thudding loudly into the cabinet as she tries to ground herself somehow.

He holds the toy pressed to her g-spot, still sucking on her clit, eyes moving up to watch her lose it in front of him. She's arching her back, head tilted upwards, chest pushed out, arms trembling before she can't keep her composure any longer and pulls her hands from under her legs and grabs his hair, two sets of small fingers with an iron grip that surprises him. Either to push him away or hold him right there, he isn't sure. Whatever the case, he lets her, gives her that one moment of control.

Her walls tighten around the toy and his finger, rhythmic clenching, her orgasm is so close, she's right on the edge, and it's that moment that he hooks his finger around the toy and pulls it out, leaning back, slipping from her suddenly limp fingers, and leaves her throbbing and panting, watches her deflate as her orgasm slips away again. A whine escapes her, and she falls backwards onto the counter, body convulsing without release, hiding her flushed face behind her shaking hands.

He straightens himself, licks his lips and then his finger, puts the vibrating toy on the counter before he turns it off. She's sobbing now, overwhelmed and left hanging. Poor thing. But it's not over yet.

Hooking his hands under her arms, he hoists her off the counter and pushes her down on her knees in front of him. She's too surprised to react, slowly lowers her hands and looks up at him, tears streaming down her red cheeks. Without a word or command, he unbuckles his belt and opens his pants, then snaps his fingers at her. Despite her trembling state, she follows the order instantly, automatically, that inborn desire to please stirring within her, when her small hands move up to push his pants and underwear down enough to free his erection.

The initial touch is almost enough to push him to the edge and over, but he braces himself, puts his hands on his hips and watches her as she closes her fingers around his length, slowly stroking up and down like he's shown her. Her eyes stay on him, watching him closely, and he tilts his head, pressing his lips into a thin line, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. He sees her swallowing, and barely a second later, her lips brush against his hot skin, the contact enough to coax a little groan out of him.

He watches her closely as she moves her lips up and down his shaft, tongue licking along his bulging veins, circling his tip, flicking over his slit, before she opens her mouth and takes him deeper. She's a little hesitant, careful, one hand still on his girth, the other braced against his thigh as she slowly bobs her head, lips closed around his tip, cheeks hollowed, the little suction really tempting his self-control. He wants her to find her own pace, get better on her own, learn to pleasure him properly, but he also really wants to fuck her throat and make her choke on his cock. The struggle is real.

His hands move to her head, a gentle little caress, fingers sliding through her hair, slowly nudging her closer, she shifts on her knees, the hand on his thigh pulling her into him. Her eyes are closed now, and he can see tears forming under her lashes as she keeps moving her head back and forth, the hand that's tight around his girth keeping her from taking him deeper. He feels her warm mouth, that little tongue flicking around his tip, hot and wet, sucking softly, almost meditatively, and he can't help it, he bucks his hips slightly against her, his cockhead poking into her cheek when she turns her head with a little muffled whine.

One of his hands moves down to grab her chin, holding her in place, head slightly tilted, as he repeats the same motion, pushing into her mouth, watching her cheek bulge. He hasn't noticed it before, but she's a natural at keeping her teeth out of the way, her jaw opened wide enough to allow him to slip in and out fairly easily. Her eyelids flutter open, and she meets his gaze, her eyes glistening, pupils dilated more than he has expected. She's enjoying this, huh?

He smirks at her, moves her head a little and tilts her chin up before he pumps his hips a little harder against her, more of his cock slipping into her small mouth. She stiffens, both hands now gripping the fabric of his pants, bracing, a sliver of panic in her eyes. He watches her closely, the grip on her chin hard as he concentrates, holds back, fights the urge to just fuck her cute little face. His breaths are quick and loud through his nose.

She holds still, doesn't fight it, and he uses that submission to move faster and eventually slips deeper, feeling his tip prodding the back of her throat. She gags almost immediately, a sudden reflex, her body convulsing against him, fingers digging into his legs, and he lets her pull back with a deep cough, saliva dripping from her lips. But he only lets her relax for so long, before he pushes his cock back into her mouth, deeper, to that spot once more, and she gags again, spit filling her mouth, coating his tip, yet this time he holds her head in place, and she lets out a pained little howl, muffled but clearly distressed.

Sighing, he grips her hair and pulls her back again, lets her catch her breath, swallow the excess spit. Tears stream down her face, her eyes are red, eyebrows furrowed, a helpless expression mixed with something like indignation looking up at him. A low laugh escapes him, and he grips her chin and pulls her back, cock slipping into her mouth, her tongue scraping along the underside, frantic little breaths through her nose, warm on his skin.

“Relax,” he tells her, and strangely enough it's that command that lets him slip deeper, past her gag reflex, further into her tight throat. It's only a few seconds though before she gags yet again, fingernails sinking into his legs, that little uncontrollable twitch as her body fights the new sensation of having her throat stuffed. She gurgles, desperate to breathe, too panicked to relax anymore. He pushes her away, and she splutters, spit and precum flying from her trembling lips, her shoulders shaking.

It takes all of him to loosen his grip on her, but when he lets go of her chin and her hair, inhaling deeply, she looks up almost surprised. Bracing his arms on the counter behind her, he closes his eyes, fighting the urge to make her choke again. That feeling when her throat tenses around his tip, squeezes him, it's something he enjoys a little too much, almost as much as watching her suffer through it, with her tears streaming down her face and her hands digging into his legs, that desperate struggle for control.

He'll force that urge right out of her, soon. Another time.

“Suck,” he grunts instead, standing still as he leans over her.

She resumes her ministrations, one hand around his girth, pumping and stroking, while she closes her lips around his tip again, sucking and licking it, keeping it far away from the back of her throat. She's shaky and sloppy, her wet slurping noises echoing through the room, her body still trembling, but she somehow manages to bring him right to the edge after all. He feels his balls tightening, his stomach tensing up, his cock throbbing in her hold. His hands itch, clenched into fists on the counter, his body shivering. So close. So fucking close...

A deep groan escapes his throat, and he leans back abruptly, grips her hair and pulls her off him, a sharp inhale coming from the girl beneath him. Her eyes are wide as she looks up at him, and he just ignores her, hooks his hands around her elbows and pulls her to her feet. She's that tiny body he can manhandle however he wants, and she ends up on her stomach on the counter, short legs dangling off the edge, feet kicking before he cages her in, one hand on her lower back, the other moving straight to the little shiny knob sitting between her plump ass cheeks.

Before she can comprehend what's happening or try to fight him, he drags her panties aside and pulls the plug out with a plop, puts it on the counter with a clang, before he grips his throbbing cock and pushes the tip against her sphincter. She lets out a surprised wail, her hands reaching back to swat him away, but he only grabs them and bends her arms behind her back, held by one large hand. She still struggles as he pushes further, forcing his tip deeper. He doesn't have time to prepare her properly, he's close to exploding.

She whines, writhing on the counter despite his unrelenting hold, and he watches her tight muscles give way to him, the grip almost as good as her tensing throat. His crown slips in, and he stops, letting it rest there as he strokes his shaft hard and fast, until he feels that tension finally dissolve. He comes with a deep grunt, arching his head back, feeling his cock throb and twitch in his hand and in her ass.

Spurt after spurt shoots into her tightness, filling her up until the first drops seep past the tight ring of muscles that clench around him involuntarily as she squirms helplessly, sobbing softly. When he relaxes against her, shoulders sagging, the grip on her arms loosening, he wishes he'd prepared her better, made her more pliant, open her up properly to take more of him. But this'll do for now. Once the twitching subsides, he gently pulls his cock out, watching her ass gape for a moment, his thick seed slipping out almost immediately.

He pushes it back in, feeling her tense muscles close around his finger. Then he grabs the plug and brings it back into position, holding her down again as she starts squirming more, the cold metal slipping into place, plugging up his warm cum. He exhales deeply once he is done, and when he lets go of her and steps back, he can't help but slap her plump cheek once for good measure.

She sobs louder, but remains lying on her stomach, legs dangling off the edge, immobile, all the fight gone from her body. He watches her as he puts his spent dick back into his pants. “What a good girl you are,” he whispers, noticing a wave of goosebumps rippling over her skin. His hands are on her round rear, gently sliding up and down, thumbs teasing between the cheeks. He fixes her thong, nudges the plug, smirks when she flinches at the motion.

Then he grabs her waist and pulls her off the counter, turning her so he can scoop her up into his arms. Despite her reluctance and the fact that she's still crying softly, she leans against him, needy little fingers digging into the collar of his shirt. No matter how hard she fights him, fights the sensations and experiences he gives her, she is clearly craving this, his attention, the care he gives her afterwards, the gentle moments after however rough he treats her.

It's a good dynamic. It'll work, he's sure. She will be absolutely perfect.

He carries her into the bedroom, carefully putting her down on the bed. She immediately rolls onto her side, knees pulled up to her chest, wiping at her wet face, avoiding his gaze as he watches her closely. When he leans down, she flinches, but he only grabs the edge of the blanket and drapes it over her small body.

“Rest now,” he tells her, straightening back up. “I'll order us some food.”

TWO 🟥 THREE 🟥 FOUR

End notes: Just a little side note on where this story is set: it could be literally anywhere (where there are skycrapers or a downtown area with taller buildings). I did not have a specific place in mind, could be any major American city, could be a bigger European city, anywhere you like to think of. It doesn't really matter anyway. (And if it is set in America, just imagine his club to be one of those more lax ones where the drinking age isn't 21 or at least nobody cares about it.)

Also, you may have guessed it, but our male protagonist is a little bit more than just a nightclub owner. I won't go into too many details, just know he's influencial, if you'd like to call it that. And definitely intimidating enough for anyone to bow before him, not just our poor girl who might just be a little in over her head at this point.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE◾

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN◾ELEVEN

[hedgehog-moss]

The Great Jungle Fence of ‘23

A majority of you poll-voters expressed the opinion that my fence would stop Pampe for 4 to 7 days and I am very touched by this popular endorsement of my fence-building skills, because her first escape happened after roughly 4 hours.

^ Pampe connoisseurs will know that her preferred way of defeating fences is by karate-chopping them with her neck, but I thought she could only do that if the fence was low enough for her to put some strength in the chop. The jungle fence was at least as tall as Pampe in the place where I found it all droopy-sad after she escaped, so I guess Pampe added a new jump-chop combo attack to her character sheet. I imagine it went something like this:

That’s okay! All new information about Pampe is carefully filed and will contribute to the creation of the Ultimate Fence. I decided to simply make this portion of the fence unneckchoppable by braiding branches from nearby trees into the fence like they did in Indonesia with that living bridge made by knitting the roots of two banyan trees. I ended up using five or six branches so it’d be solid enough, but here’s a pic of the beginning of the process:

The braided-branch part of the fence still stands undefeated, after 20 days. Pampe ate all the leaves but couldn’t get rid of the branches and had to concede this battleground.

I then found her staring pensively (worryingly) at another potential weak point of the fence: the gate. I used a standard wood pallet at first, tied to trees, but it wasn’t very high. I couldn’t add another pallet on top of it because that would make it inoperable as a door, so I went to explore the barn, which like all barns is full of dusty treasures. What object do I own that’s like a pallet, but much taller?

!!

A slatted bed base. Once tied to a tree it swings open easily, but it was an awful chore to carry it all the way across the pasture, I had to wait for a weekend when my mum was going to visit me. That conversation went like:

Me: Do you remember that old bed in the barn? Can you help me carry it (well part of it) across the pasture? Mum: Why on earth Me: Pampe. Fence. Mum: That’s a good reason

I was very proud of my new, impassable gate, but Pampe was weirdly nowhere to be seen as I was setting it up. Usually she’s here carefully observing over my shoulder when I add a new element to a fence, so that was alarming.

In a flash of insight I realised I had been tricked; she’d never had any intention of jumping over the pallet gate. Too easy, too predictable. She’d only examined the gate to scare me into trying to solve this non-problem and force me to use my only trump card (I don’t have several old beds in the barn), and meanwhile she’d gone and jumped over a different pallet in a different part of the fence.

That other pallet had a sheep netting stretched above it, so that a) I thought it was unjump-able, b) Pampe thought it was a more amusing challenge. Poor Baby Poldine was a bit distraught; she clearly didn’t dare to jump to follow her mum but she didn’t want to be left behind once again, so she tried to slip through the net, but that didn’t work either.

Poldine made a baa noise like a traumatised baby goat and Pampe grudgingly turned back to go bump noses with her through the fence, it was a cute mother-daughter moment.

I added a new length of wire mesh (see pink arrow in the below pic) above the pallet to discourage further jumping, and my mum went “So you can remove the sheep netting and use it elsewhere” and I was like, what, no! Do you think they remove parts of the fence every time a Jurassic Park dinosaur escapes? That makes no sense. I’m only going to add more elements to this fence. Forever and ever or until it works.

Pirlouit, a law-abiding animal with very modest fence needs, was starting to look a bit overwhelmed.

Also—for once, Pampe didn’t look annoyed about being escorted back where I wanted her to be, she was kind of bouncy and looked immensely entertained by all this.

I’ll spare you the details but she escaped again, this time by lifting the bottom of the fence in a place where it was weighed down with a crossbar, which she broke in two with the power of her neck. That was easy to fix; instead of a wooden crossbar I weighed down the base of the fence with massive rocks. Go ahead and neck chop those, Pampe. But this time around it had taken me forever to find the spot where she escaped, so I decided to make things easier for myself in the future—I cordoned off the area just outside the fence with police tape between trees, along the whole length of it. This way I’ll see easily where she escaped—the tape is very flimsy and I crisscrossed it in places, so she shouldn’t be able to get past it without breaking it.

... So I suppose I’ll have to start the next post with “You’ll never guess what I caught Pampe doing last night” and a photo of her like

Anyway, Pampe looked unamused this time.

Well, that’s all. For now. Pampérigouste is back in the lawful enclosure with her family and we are waiting for her next move. Here’s a photo of her alone in the unallowed half of her pasture the other evening, contemplating her freedom