#cow skin rug

[savingpaper]

Enclosed Dining Room in Los Angeles Image of a medium-sized transitional dining room with white walls and no fireplace and a dark wood floor.

[yes-rughouse-universe]

Captivating Charm: Exploring Attractive Cowhide Rugs in NZ

Looking for high-quality Brazilian cowhide rugs in NZ? Our natural extra-large cowhides are perfect for adding a touch of luxury to your home decor.

[americanflagcumrag]

tboy bulge tonight

[bunchesmcginty]

[bejoga-kitajiko]

Austin Living Room Library Inspiration for a small contemporary open concept plywood floor living room library remodel with white walls and a tv stand

[funny-junks]

Denver Single Wall Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional single-wall medium tone wood floor wet bar remodel with an undermount sink, raised-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets and soapstone countertops

[tacticalprincess]

MDNI — cw: f!reader, car sex, age gap

farmhand!könig who can’t get enough of farmer’s daughter!reader….

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🌾

he’s always pestering you, making it impossible for you to complete your chores on time most days. he’s addicted to the playful gleam in your eyes when you look up at him, the way your soft body feels in his rugged hands. the excitement that thrums under his skin as the two of you dance around your overprotective dad, sharing a secret that tethers you together long after you leave his shed at night, lingers thick in the air at the dinner table and in passing. the more of you you give to him, the worse his craving for you gets, and the less he seems to care about getting caught.

he sneaks a hand over your mouth and lifts you into his old, beat up truck while you’re taking your dry sheets off the clothesline, the sun hot and heavy overhead. you squeal against his palm, writhing in his hold before he sets you on his broad lap, letting you turn to face him.

“don’t do that! you scared me.”

he laughs it off, already snaking his large, calloused hands under your shirt to thumb at your hip pudge. cant waste any time when he has you alone. insincere apologizes mumbled into the soft, sweat slick skin of your neck, huffing in your sweet scent. “cant help myself with you teasing me like this. bending over in these tiny shorts, showing all the animals your ass.”

you giggle, back arching into the older man’s greedy, firm touch, angling your head away to give him more access to your neck. “the cows weren’t exactly my target audience.”

“talking about me, liebchen.” he clarifies. the strong smell of musk and mud invades your senses, the soft fabric of his white tee chafing against your hard, braless nipples through your flimsy shirt. “dirty little girl, aren’t you? going to get me in trouble one day, i know it. what would your father do if he knew his daughter was trying to seduce his best farmhand?”

he renders your ability to speak null and void when he slots his hands into your shorts and squeezes you for all you have to offer, spreading your cheeks and making you grind your hips down on his hard bulge, the friction from your jeans borderline painful against your clit. groans throatily at how wet you are already, his fingers slipping into your hole to gather your slick before he retracts it entirely, showing you how it sticks to his thick digits. “hm? looks like this cute little cunt missed me too.” a cocky grin plagues his sharp features, smearing your juices over your pouty lips dirtily, just to see your face scrunch up in disgust. he grabs your chin, pulling you forward to lick it off.

it’s all happening too fast, exhilaration clinging to your bones, heat gathering at your core. you look around the field warily, mind racing with doubt but your body betrays you, bucking into his mouth when you feel him litter sloppy, wet kisses along your chest, pulling down the strap of your shirt to let your cute boobs spring free. if it wasn’t hot already, you’re burning up now. “könig, not out in the open like this. what if daddy sees?”

“i’ll be quick, maus. just want to play with you.” he promises, though you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t be over that soon. “can you feel how hard you make me? you’re all i can think about, it’s impairing my ability to work. cant have that, can we?”

decidedly, you don’t want to be the cause of a sudden switch in the quality of könig’s farm work, or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you let him push your shorts to the side, sitting yourself down on his thick, hard manhood. he swallows every heavenly noise that tip from your soft lips onto his tongue, clashing teeth and jaw from desperation. lets you grit your kitten nails into his scalp for purchase, hot bodies pressed flush together in the cramped space while he lifts and drops you down until your thighs start to tremble and lock around him. the heels of your boots dent into your plush thighs, his are planted to the floor as he pile drives his hips into you, thrusts deliberate and meticulous in a way that awakens sweet parts you didn’t know you had.

it’s a shame, he thinks, having to hide away in a dirty truck with such a pretty thing like you. too soft and sweet for a man like him, but his addiction to you makes you impossible to resist. it’s unclear who’s corrupting who in this situation.

if you were back home with him in austria, he would’ve proposed to you already, declaring you as his for everyone to see. as it is, he bounces you on his cock until you’re seeing stars, the ambience of the farm surrounding you, with the slowly setting sun as your witness.

[bigjerkart]

Closet - Transitional Closet

[compact-turtle]

So I’m my area, I’m in the country, it’s pretty common to see women just in their bikinis laid on a blanket/chair out in the yard to tan. It’s the country, ya know? No one sees you, except for whomever lives with you. It’s just something we do. How would Atticus feel about that tho? Seeing his darling in skimpy bathing-suit laying outside to tan??

I'm slowly and steadily finally going through my inbox after five months. Sorry to everyone if I don't make it to your post there's like 100+ things in my inbox :(

That would be so sweet actually. Imagine him getting butterflies and everything seeing you openly tan in a skimpy bathing suit.

----

Content Warning: slight n--s--f---w.

-Today was a mandatory laundry day for Atticus. He was officially out of clean clothes. Everything was dirty and starting to smell worse than the cows on a hot day. Of course, he didn't mind it too much, but you were here. What would you think if he didn't keep up with his hygiene?

-A basket of wet laundry was at his feet as he started to pin them up to dry. He'd much rather be out milking the cows or tending to the crops than doing this. Still, it gave Atticus time to be lost in his thoughts.

-He wondered how long he could stall you from leaving. It'd already been a few weeks since your car broke down and he knew everyone was getting antsy. Especially, after working so much on the farm.

-To combat this, he started giving everyone more breaks and days off. He even attempted to encourage them to view this as a "rent-free-all-expense-paid-vacation" in a beautiful rural setting. Thankfully, all your little friends seemed to be airheaded enough to believe this. They ain't got a lick of sense to them.

-His attention was pulled away when he noticed you from the corner of his eye. He tried watching you discreetly; wondering what you were doing. In your hands, there was a large blanket and a tote bag. You were dressed in a long white t-shirt that reached barely past your butt.

-You threw him a warm smile along as you walked past him. You stopped near an oak tree and began to lay out your blanket. Gently, you set your bag down and then took out a few items.

Perhaps you were out on a small picnic today?

-He watched slack-jawed as you removed your t-shirt to reveal everything hidden underneath. The silhouettes of your body seemed to be chiseled by the hand of a celestial sculptor. He'd gladly worship it, adorn it with jewels, anything you wanted. Your skin was like a holy text, inviting him to devote himself even deeper.

"Looks like you're begging for a mighty big sunburn there," Atticus said as he walked up. His gaze cast down as he avoided eye contact.

"No worries! I brought sunscreen with me! Actually, could you help put it on my back?" You asked as you searched in your bag for a bottle of sunscreen. You pulled it out and handed it to Atticus with a bright smile.

-He nodded, then took the bottle from you. Slowly, he poured the sunscreen into his rugged hands. He gently began to spread it out on your back.

-Atticus nervously wondered if you minded his calloused hands. Were they scratching up your back? Or was it making you regret asking him?

-Still, more than anything, he was giddier than a schoolchild. He loved the way your skin felt underneath his hands. Your skin was like a delicate canvas, soft and flawless in his eyes. This felt like a privilege to trace his fingers all across your back. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to touch the skin underneath your clothes.

"Atticus, it hurts. Be more gentle." You tenderly mumbled, "Don't push into my back so hard."

-He felt something familiar rise in his lower area. it took everything in him to not pounce on you right now. Atticus would love to litter kisses all over your back. He'd kiss every part until you were tired of it all.

-He desperately wanted needed to rut into you. To show, that he could satisfy you in any compacity you wanted. He imagined your voice moaning out in a breathy tone, begging him to just go harder and faster. Of course, he’s comply with your demands and go as faster as you want. Then he’d lean down and suck y-

"That should be good now, Atticus. Thank you for the help." You said as you flipped yourself around to face him.

-His eyes briefly dipped down to view your whole body. Another small wave of imagination rolled over him.

"No problem. Seems like all your little friends disappeared."

"It's sweet that you're worried about them! Everyone is swimming in the creek nearby. I was going to join them but figured I'd tan instead. I haven't been able to do it all summer. Especially due to our road trip."

"I see. Where'd ya get this tiny piece you got on from? Don't look like it covers much of anything."

"Oh, does it make you uncomfortable? I can go and change if-."

"No. It's fine. Just go on back and do your own thing." Atticus interrupted quickly, "Don't mind me."

-He watched as you laughed and nodded. Atticus turned back towards the house. His pace was unusually brisk with heavy panting.

-The laundry could wait. He had more important things to do right now.

----------------------------------------------------------------

(That may or may not involve fantasies of you two in some intense yoga positions)

[icarusredwings]

Scent. 1/2

Sfw, Primal scenting, established poolverine, countryside comedy, angst, and fluff. Wade gets smothered in front of the fireplace by a big domestic wolverine because of his self-confidence issues.

Post Save a horse/Ride a wolverine

Requested by @asaturnerofficial

Somewhere in Texas, On a small plot ranch with only a handful of chickens and 2 horses. One is a pony, actually. Her name was Buttercream, and she used to do kids' parties. She just kinda came with the house, and so did the chickens, but Cupcake (who was, in fact, a gelding, named by Wade) was bought off a different rancher who claimed he couldn't be ridden. Well- that was apparently a huge lie because Cup allowed him to ride him every now and again. Maybe it was a scent thing.

Actually, Scent was very important in this house, and it was something Logan checked each night before bed. Sniff around the property and shoo off any animals that didn't belong. He didn't mind the Co-yotes they just were trying to live as much as anything else, but it made him nervous to think about what they might do to the chickens or hell - to Mary Puppins. They would eat her for a snack and still be peckish.

"Alright, I fed the chickens, fed buttercream cupcake, fed puppins, now what do- Woah! Jesus's mother, Mary Magdalene!"

He had just walked into the living room to see Logan laid out on a rug in nothing but his iconic wife beater, some worn in-in all the right places- jeans, and his boots. He had got the fire place working I guess because there it was, heating up the home.

"I dont think its really a good idea to have a fire place inside of house made of wood but what do I know? Im not OSHA certified." He said, of course, to the wall.

Rolling his eyes, Logan was far used to this by now, chuckling a bit. "I got it workin' "

"Yeah I see. I was just talking about that."

"I saw. Who are you talking to anyway?" For once this question was genuine instead of condescending.

"Oh, you know. The viewers. Readers. Whatever you wanna call them." Again, he turns and waves. "Hi. Also- where did he get a bear skin rug? This guy. Ruining the budget. Do you know how expensive bears are?"

Having seen this a billion times, he's learned to just go with it. "Viewers...? Like.. a reality tv show?"

"Kind of. And let me just say, This?" He put his hands out like he was taking a picture. "Is beautiful. You're going to make the ratings sky rocket! Think of what this will do for your PR!"

"Right.. well. I hate to break the.. viewers.. little hearts but this isn't a bear skin. What bears do you know that have black and white spots?"

"Pandas."

Blinking, He sat up. "Wade, this is the middle of texas. Where do you think im going to find a panda?"

"The zoo." He shrugs, watching his boyfriend laugh at him, rolling his eyes.

"So you think the zoo is just going to let me take one of their pandas and skin it for my livingroom?"

"Oh. Yeah, that's a bit of a streach for the budget, isn't it? What is it then?- GAASSP- Don't tell me it's puppies!!"

"What?" (He's found himself saying this about 50 times a day now when living with him, possibly 100) "It's cow.."

"Oooh! Okay- that would have been a deal breaker. I can deal with skinning an endangered species, but I draw the line at Cruella activities."

"So are you just gonna keep talking to that wall, or are you gonna come're?" He muttered, smirking some as he made a small squeal, rushing over to sit down.

The scent of cheap dollar store foundation made him cringe, his mood and demeter changing instantly. "What did I tell you about wearin' that shit.."

Tensing up, he smiled awkwardly, putting his hands in his lap as he looked away. "It's the 21st century, Wolvie, Men wear make up now."

"No. You know damn well that's not what I meant. Come here." Before he could even begin to protest, he grabbed him by the belt, a signature, pulling him into his arms only to flip him on the floor.

"Eeehh!! Peanut, seriously, it's fine! It's just makeup! I didn't even put my mascara on!"

"Im taking that shit off of you. It stinks!" He growled, now straddling him on top of the soft cow rug.

Squirming a bit, Wade was trying to push him off but it was hard to do that when your boyfriend was so heavy, having just started to get back to a healthy weight, healing his relationship with food and his appearance. It only reminded him how much he loved having him. Oh, his big beefy boy. Usually, he would enjoy being manhandled, but he worked hard on his blending today!

"Noo! Do you know how hard it is to cover all THIS up!?"

"Exactly my point. That's why it's coming off. It doesn't NEED covered up, moron!" Pulling off his shirt, both the view and the words put Wade into somewhat of a dormant state.

"You really mean th- Ahh!! Hey! No! You tricked me with nice words!" He protested as he used the shirt to wipe it off, spitting on it and rubbing cirlces to get it off of him. It was times like these when Wade realized that Logan COULD actually hurt him if he wanted too. Then again.. Trapped under a bronzed muscly man like him?

Glory, glory, what a hell of a way to die!

"What are you talking about?"

Oh shit- he hadn't noticed that he said this out loud. "Nothing!! I just - Why do you always have to ruin my makeup!? What are you jealous or something?" He turned to the side, away from him. "Oh, let's be honest. It would be a crime to cover up that face."

"I could say the same thing about you, Bub." He muttered, wiping off the last bit off his neck, holding it as he leaned down to sniff him, still cringing.

"Gross."

This word alone was enough to audibly hear Wade's heart snap. Swallowing as his throat tightened and put his arms over his face.

Oh shit.. that wasn't the best of word to say, was it? God, why was this so hard? This is why he grunted instead of spoke. Words were too complicated.

A pang in his chest ran deep, his own heart clenching as he heard him whimper.

"That's.. That's why I do it.."

"Oh, Wade.." You'd have to be deaf to not hear the tears in his voice, visibly upset and nowhere to run off too, nothing to hide with. He was trapped. The next option was to push him away, Hit him in the chest so he'd let go. Know that he was done playing. That this was serious.

"You know that! So W-why would you -"

He kissed him, holding both sides of his face. Despite the pushing still lasting, it quickly died down as he wrapped his arms around his neck.

Pulling away only when the air in their lungs ran out, He smirked again, breaths heavy.

"Now, if I thought you were so terrible, would I do that? Hm?"

"Y-yes.."

So he kissed him again, this time giving a little growl into it the way he liked it, causing him to giggle and push his face away, turning again.

"Who is this starving man? Where is my wolverine?"

"Right here, baby. All me." He says, looking to where he was too.

"Hey, you can't talk to them! They're mine!"

"Too bad. So what's the census? My PR or what ever you call it up yet?"

"I don't know.."

"Oh sure, you do. It's your show, isn't it?" He asks, turning him to look at him as he crosses his arms, looking away again, still upset with him.

"... It's our show, actually...Deadpool AND Wolverine... sometimes featuring Dogpool, but that's besides the point! Im thinking about cutting you... you're taking up too much budget."

"Oh, am I now? Well, maybe you'd have more budget if you ditched that stinky shit."

Wade went silent for a moment, stalling to tell him what Logan already knew.

"Ooh... Ratings drop when you're you... don't they?" Right. That made so much more sense. Wilson has taken his own negative thoughts and categorized them into show manager and critic positions. And the critics didn't like him bare faced.

"Well... What if we raised ratings or whatever way up? Without all that bullcrap?"

"Do you know how hard it would be to-"

A third kiss.

"You really should learn to shut up, mouth."

[rughouseau]

Why Cowhide Rugs Shine in Australia: A Closer Look at Their Attraction

Australia's various landscapes, from massive outback terrains to stunning coastal views, inspire an exclusive blend of interior design styles. Among this eclectic mix, cowhide rugs have emerged as an interior decor choice that perfectly resonates with the Australian lifestyle. These rugs offer an attractive.

combination of natural beauty that aligns naturally with the country's appealing preferences and applied essentials

Embracing Natural Beauty

Cowhide rugs are famous for their distinct and reliable appearance. Each rug conveys a one-of-a-kind pattern, showcasing the individuality of the animal it came from. This natural modification in color and pattern makes a rural charm that resonates with the Australian love for raw, unfiltered beauty. Whether placed in a modern city apartment or a rustic country home, cowhide rugs naturally carry a touch of nature indoors.

Stability for the Australian Lifestyle

Australia's climate can be demanding, with its harsh sun, sandy beaches, and sometimes changeable weather conditions. Cowhide rugs, are uniquely suited for the Australian lifestyle. These rugs are strong to wear and tear, making them an perfect choice for high-traffic areas and spaces that demand functional yet stylish solutions.

The flexibility of cowhide rugs is another reason for their growing attractiveness in Australia. Their neutral color palette and enduring patterns allow them to complement a wide range of interior design styles. From modern minimalism to eclectic bohemian, cowhide rugs can easily adapt and enhance any space. Additionally, they can be used as statement pieces on floors, draped over furniture, or even exhibited as wall art, contribution endless creative possibilities.

Cultural Connection and Sustainability

Australia's appreciation for nature and sustainability aligns well with the ethos of cowhide rugs. Many Australians value products that have a reduced environmental impact. Cowhide rugs are frequently a by-product of the meat industry, repurposing what would otherwise be discarded. This aspect of sustainability resonates with a mindful consumer base seeking morally sourced and eco-friendly decor options.

In conclusion, cowhide rugs have originate their place in Australian homes for reasons that go beyond their beautiful appeal. Their embodiment of natural beauty and sustainability makes them a compelling choice for interior design enthusiasts across the country. These rugs not only complement the Australian lifestyle but also reflect the values and preferences that define the nation's unique design identity.

[yes-rughouse-universe]

The Ultimate Guide To Choosing The Perfect Animal Hide Rug For Your Home

Discover the perfect addition to your home decor with our luxurious animal hide rugs for sale in NZ. Browse our collection and find your perfect piece today

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Would they peel an orange for you?

Yes, I saw the TikToks and thought about doing it before I remember I don't have boyfriend

Yes, unprompted

Thoma

There is approximately 30-40 minutes between the time Thoma gives ayato his evening tea and when ayaka needed to be escorted to town.

And like clockwork Thoma would be waiting for you under a tree in the residence, on a somewhat secluded corner with a tray with two tea cups and a little platter with cut up solsettias and oranges.

Even if one day you arrive early where he is still getting settled and just about to start peeling and ask to do it for him he just smiles but refuses with his head.

“ Don't worry about it! Why don't you drink the tea? It's a new blend that arrived today, though you would like it”

Childe ( he is used to peeling fruit for his sibling)

Itto ( hear me out, he hears a girl mention a novel where the main character gets fed apple slices while sick and how attentive that was and immediately starts a competition with nobody to prove himself the 'bestest' boyfriend ever"

Yes, if asked

Zhongli

He doesn't have the same nutritional needs as humans, where we would need variety of vegetables and fruits, grains and meat in his dragon form he only needs three cows every month, now as a human his metabolism had slowed significantly, even then it would be strange to only buy kilos of meat once a month and nothing else.

That is where you help him out, going to his house for diner and lunch to not let the good rot.

“ I saw green tangerine at the stall and decided to buy them” zhongli settles the fabric bag on the table “It reminded me of such a delectable tea I had a while ago, I guessed I would have my hand at it, it will take at most 10 years only”

“ Tea inside tangerines? It sounds nice. Do you think I can eat one, I never had one” he nods from the kitchen putting away a bag of rice and other things while he mumbles about only needing the skin “I don't really want to peel it though… Can you peel it for me?”

Zhongli looks at you, head slightly turned but he smiles as he answers “ as you wish” he walks to the table and grabs a knife, before skillfully cutting the skin and stabbing a wedge “open wide”

Kaveh

Kaveh might work as an architect, loving the flow and composition of his buildings, but that love extends further away to other areas of art, from painting to rug making to clothes, so when you ask him for help when remodeling your home ( you paying) he was on cloud nine.

Walking and haggling the price all around the grand bazaar from 7 am (he insisted all the good things arrived early) to 3 pm was expectedly tiring to your legs and to your head, seeing how happy kaveh was with a 20 mora discount. So when you two stopped at alhaitham’s house to leave some bags you threw yourself on the ergonomic couch that was on the living room.

“Oh, we didn't stop to drink anything all morning, do you want some water and…” you could hear him rummaging around the shared kitchen for something to offer “ … some oranges?”

You only sigh but nod, even if you knew he wouldn't see “ water is fine. I don't want to peel anything, I hate how the smell lingers on my fingers”

Kaveh brings a jug with cool water “ I can peel it for you if you want, I don't really mind”

“... Yes, please “

Diluc ( would ask a maid the first time but when they tell him what it means he starts peeling it himself)

Neuvillete (furina said it was something sweet between lovers and it stuck with him)

Wriothesley

Not really/ doesn't find the point:

Alhaitham

At breakfast he doesn't like to eat heavy, not wanting to dirty his kitchen before going to work and not having much appetite so early. Usually a warm cup of tea or coffee and a bit of fruit or bread.

Seeing as he was picking an apple from the bowl on the kitchen you ask him to pick you an orange to which he only nods and grabs you a knife.

Leaving it in front of you he sits on the contrary chair and bites through the apple and sips his tea.

“ I don't really want to peel it, though… maybe someone could do it for me” you look at him, hinting at him

“ Do you want an apple then? You don't have to peel it” he doesn't look up from the book on the table even as you sighs

Wanderer (rat man)

Kaeya ( does it because you asked him but doesn't find the point in asking him for such a small favor. Prefers showing love/care in other ways)

[five-and-dimes]

Sunbeam

Part 3 of 4

Using the Dreaming Bingo prompt: Accidental Voyeurism

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Dreamling

Warnings: Past abuse (not explicit, just implied past warprize things)

Additional Tags: Cat!Dream, Cow!Hob, King/warprize, hurt/comfort, masturbation, sexual fantasies

Summary: We have reached the spicy chapter 👀

Read on AO3

~~~

When Dream awakens from yet another post-meal nap, Hob is not in the room. 

Sitting up, he allows himself the indulgence of a wide yawn in this moment of privacy. He shivers slightly, and his ears droop sadly when he glances out the window to see that while the sun has not fallen quite yet, it had crossed the sky in his sleep and no longer shines its warmth through the windows on this side of the palace. The lavish room that has been his dwelling for the past three weeks has become cold and dim.

Tucking his knees beneath his chin, Dream wraps his tail around his legs, feeling lost. He has felt lost ever since he was given to King Robert- Hob, as he insisted on being called. Each time he has been passed from one owner to another, they never wasted any time trying out their new toy. The royals he has lived under always seemed thrilled at the opportunity to punish him for rules he hadn’t been taught yet, and to make him repay even the slightest mercies.

Hob has done none of that.

He would have thought, if the king was truly so disgusted with his weak and damaged prize, that he would simply be given to another member of the court. But Hob had asked him his name, given him clothing, carried him upstairs when his body failed him, and when he’d felt the bones pressing through Dream’s skin, he had fed him.

Dream still flushes just thinking about it, even after all the time that’s passed. It had been terrifying at first, to see the king disrobe, revealing just how much bigger and stronger he was than Dream even beneath his royal garb. But he had been so gentle. And in the end, all he had done was feed him, even when Dream could feel that he wanted more. 

Now, several times a day, the king of the bovine kingdom presses Dream’s face to his plentiful chest, and Dream is given the privilege of what must be the sweetest milk in the land. Part of him is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He still expects that one day Hob will deem him healthy enough to be put to use. But for now, at least….

For now, it’s nice.

He shivers again, his body always so cold, and even more so without the sunlight. He has gotten braver about laying on the bedroom rug in the sun when Hob is not in the room, though he still sprints back to his place on the bed when he returns. For a moment he wishes he could go outside, to sit beneath the late afternoon sun. And then he notices it.

A thin, golden beam of light spilling from a door across the room. It is not the door to the hallway, or the bathroom Dream has been given permission to use. The king’s room has several doors that Dream has seen Hob go into but not seen inside himself. His ears twitch longingly as he realizes that whatever is behind this door, there is sunlight. There is warmth.

Cautiously, he slips from the bed, arms wrapped around himself to hold his robe closed as he tiptoes towards the light. As he gets closer his ears flick forward as he catches the sound of what sounds like the gentle lapping of water. Glancing over his shoulders, always preparing to get in trouble in some way, his curiosity and the chill in his bones spurs him on. The door is only open a crack, and Dream presses himself against the wall as he leans forward to peek into the room.

It is a bathroom, though there is no toilet in sight, and it is far more extravagant than the one Dream has been using. The entire room is gleaming white and gray marble, golden accents on the lights and knobs. There is a large shower in the back corner, a massive vanity overflowing with jars and bottles, a wardrobe made of polished wood. Two of the walls seem to be mostly windows, perhaps not the best for privacy, but allowing a stunning view of the rolling fields outside the palace. The sunlight streams in to land on a thick rug in the center of the room. It looks soft, and warm, and Dream wants to rub his entire body on it. 

And then his eyes finally land on the bath.

The bath where Hob is currently touching himself.

The tub is practically a pool, set into the floor with a few steps leading into it. Dream thinks that even taking into account the larger stature of those in the bovine kingdom you could easily fit multiple people in it. But right now, Hob is alone, is stretched out with his head thrown back as he rolls a nipple between his fingers. The same one Dream had suckled on not long ago. 

His other hand is beneath the water and between his thighs. From his current position, Dream can’t see anything beneath the lip of the tub. But he sees the way Hob’s arm moves steadily, the way he sighs and groans softly as he pinches his own nipple harshly, the way his flesh folds at his sides as he arches his back.

Dream has never seen any of his owners touch themselves like this. Why would they? Why would they bother masturbating with their hands when they could use the toy that is Dream’s body?

It is… captivating.

He is so enraptured in the scene that he has no idea how long he has been standing there when Hob casually turns his head and looks him dead in the eye.

“Would you like to come in?”

Dream freezes, eyes wide, not even daring to breathe, let alone run away. Was this a test? A taunt? An order? Had he just brought his own downfall upon himself?

“It’s alright, Love,” Hob calls out to him softly, his gentle voice easing some of Dream’s panic. His  hand leaves his breast to beckon him inside. His other hand remains beneath the water. “You can come in if you’d like,” he continues, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I know you like the sunshine and there’s plenty of it to share.”

It’s true, the entire room is bathed in light, everything shining and gleaming. Dream shivers. The rug looks so comfortable.

Swallowing thickly, he slowly creeps through the door, opening it just enough to slip through and no more. He keeps his hands clasped in front of him, head bowed, and he shivers again when the pads of his feet step onto sun-warmed marble. Hob has continued to rub oil into his fur every other day, and Dream continues to tremble through most of it, mind and body warring over the sense memory of hands on him in the past versus the gentle softness of the here and now. But whenever he reaches his hands or feet the shaking worsens, and Hob always quietly lets go to allow Dream to huddle with his fragile claws curled against his body. The result is that even as his skin and fur improve, the pads on his hands and feet are still dry and cracked. The warmth and hardness of the marble is almost painful, and he quickens his steps as much as he dares to reach the rug.

He folds himself down to kneel, stiff and proper. Hands in his lap, back straight and head bowed, and it is still worth it to feel the lush rug beneath his bony knees, and the sun’s warmth on his body. 

“You…” Dream starts hesitantly. It still feels strange, feels dangerous, to speak without being given explicit permission, “You look. Comfortable?” It’s pitched as a question, but in truth there is no doubt.

Hob’s body is flushed gently, lounging bonelessly in the tub. Steam is rising gently around him, the scent of lavender drifting through the room, and Dream has to lower his gaze again quickly when he realizes that, now that he is closer, there are no bubbles in the water to conceal the king’s body. 

“I am,” Hob answers casually, one hand draped across the floor beside him. The other…

“I realized that when I offered you a bath, I was very vague about it, which must have been frightening for you. I’m sorry.”

Dream startles, eyes darting up before darting back down just as fast, “Y-you have done nothing wrong, sire.”

It is true though. When Hob had brought up giving Dream a bath he had wanted to weep, had wanted to plead with Hob to tell him what he did wrong so he could fix it. Normally when Dream was thrust into a cold tub by callous hands and scrubbed harshly, it was to rid him of the dried come and other fluids coating his body. But he had been washed before he was given away, and Hob hadn’t done anything to him, so he didn’t understand. Was it a punishment? Did Hob think he was still dirty?

Dream certainly still felt dirty.

He never did get a cleaning, though. Hob had dropped it and not brought it up again. Until now. Hob hums, his eyes half-lidded as his hand continues to stroke himself lazily in the water. No rush or urgency. Simply pleasuring himself languorously even as he continues speaking to Dream.

“Allow me to be more specific now,” he smiles, a lazy, welcoming thing, “If you would like- and only if you would like- I would offer you a warm bath in this very tub, with milk and rose oil to soothe your skin. I would make sure the water stays warm as long as you desire so you can soak in peace until you are content, until even the spaces between the pads of your feet are soft. Until you are so relaxed you are nearly asleep. And then-” his breath hitches, almost imperceptibly. Dream might have missed it had he not been staring with such rapt attention, hanging on to Hob’s every word.

“And then I would lay you out someplace soft, in the sunlight,” his hand moves just a little more noticeably, “and I would apply your salve again.” Dream’s breath catches in surprise. That was not what he had expected Hob to say he would do with Dream’s lax body, “But this time, I would make sure to coat it onto every part of you, from your ears to the tip of your tail. I would massage all the way to your hands and feet, softly and slowly because I know you are so delicate right now, and rub lotion into the pads until they are soft again. Until all of your aches and discomforts have been banished. Until not a single part of you hurts anymore.”

It is a long forgotten fantasy of Dream’s, the idea of not being in pain. He had long stopped imagining the possibility of any such thing, settling into the reality of resignation. 

And now, here it is again, but not as Dream’s fantasy. As Hob’s. This powerful king is stroking his cock, mouth open as he pants and moans at the thought of taking care of Dream. The water ripples around him as he writhes against his own hands, fantasizing out loud about being allowed to touch Dream in a way that doesn’t hurt. In a way that takes away hurt. Dream thinks about how Hob’s prick always inevitably hardened beneath him whenever he drank Hob’s milk. Is this what he has been thinking about as he held Dream in his arms? 

Dream’s entire body is tense, but not in fear. In something else long forgotten.

“...What would you do next?” 

His voice cracks on the words. He thinks Hob must be paying as much attention to him as he is to Hob, otherwise he might not have heard it at all. His words are soft and uncertain, afraid of what the answer might be, afraid of how this impossible fantasy might end. Hob opens his eyes, looking over to Dream and biting his lip.

“I would sit back, and offer you my body for your pleasure.”

Now Dream is properly gaping, eyes wide, and before he can even think about how he is supposed to respond to that, Hob is arching his back, breasts fully emerging from the bathwater. The fur on his chest sticks to his skin and sends rivulets of water down over the slope of his breasts and stomach, and Dream is struck by the desire to follow them with his tongue.

When he drank from Hob, he was always so hesitant and timid. A part of him wonders now what it would feel like to press his face firmly and fully into his chest, to rub his cheek against him, to bury himself between the soft flesh and knead with his paws until milk trickled down Hob’s body as freely as the bath water did now.

“You could do whatever you want to me,” Hob continues with a moan, “I would lay on the bed, and you could touch me anywhere, any way, I would do whatever you asked of me.” His knees breach the water, allowing Dream to watch them spread as far as they’ll go, opening himself up for this fantasy he is weaving as he continues breathlessly, “I know it was not your choice to show me, but you have a beautiful cock.” 

Dream sucked in a breath, eyes wide with surprise, but Hob didn’t look like he was joking, or lying. He had his head tilted back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed as though he was envisioning it as he spoke, “All those lovely little barbs. I would be so honored to feel you even simply rut against me, against my stomach or between my tits,” he clutches at his breast, his blunt nails digging in, and his face scrunches with something like disappointment. Like it is not quite the sensation he wants.

In his lap, Dream flexes his claws almost without noticing.

“I would be more than satisfied just to have you come on me, cover my tits in your seed so you taste yourself when you drink,” Dream has to bite his lip even before Hob continues, “but oh, what I would give to feel that cock inside me.” Hob’s hand releases his prick, instead venturing back to the space behind his balls.

One of Dream’s hands tightens around his robe to hold it closed, while the other presses against his cock. He pushes at it with the heel of his palm, his thighs pressing together, trying to will the beginnings of an erection away. He has never-... and the idea of being inside, of being allowed-...

Hob’s hand is moving slow and firm as he stretches himself open, water splashing over the edge of the tub as his chest heaves, his free hand still massaging at his breasts and Dream imagines being permitted to knead at that flesh. Hob is so soft, he has to stifle a whine at the thought of pressing his fingers into his breasts, his stomach, his arse. It is hard for him to picture, hard to imagine himself allowed such liberties no matter what Hob said. But he can see the blurred outlines of it. In his mind, the silhouettes of two figures, so very different in size and shape, move against each other into a single shape and Dream cannot hold back a whimper.

That one small sound is somehow all it takes to send Hob over the edge. The fingers in his arse press as deep as he can manage, and his other hand drops to his cock to stroke himself through his orgasm. Ropes and ropes of cum stream from Hob’s cock, swirling through the water in mesmerizing patterns as it dissipates. 

Now, more than any moment before, Dream feels the urge to join him in the water.

For an indeterminable amount of time, the only sound in the room is Hob’s panting breaths and the occasional ripple of water from his movements. Dream is still frozen on the rug, suddenly feeling too warm, his face burning as he forces himself to breathe deeply. He holds his position kneeling stiffly, knees pressed together so firmly it almost hurts and hands covering the vulnerable space between as though he could somehow protect himself from the feelings inside him. As though he could protect himself at all.

“You can touch yourself, sweet one,” Hob coos, startling Dream from his thoughts. Dream’s head snaps up, ears pressing back even as he watches Hob’s head loll against his shoulder languidly, his breath still evening out from his orgasm, “You don’t have to,” he assures, “but you can. I’ll stay way over here,” he grins, and turns his head towards the ceiling, closing his eyes again, “I won’t even look if you don’t want me too.”

Ever since his arrival, Hob has been phrasing things as questions, as offers, as requests. Here in his luxurious bathroom, the scent of sweet oils and steam around them, Dream truly believes for the first time that he is being sincere. That Hob’s invitation is exactly that- an invitation. Something Dream is free to accept or decline without consequence. Not a test or a torment. Just an offer.

Glancing down at his lap, where his hands are still pressed against himself, he allows himself to consider the offer. Tears begin to well in his eyes, and he realizes that it is too much. He has not felt this way in so long. Has not felt safe, has not felt arousal, and certainly has not felt like it was safe to be aroused. To feel the fragile beginnings of such feelings is thrilling. And also so very terrifying. What he feels now is a joyous and hopeful thing, but if the feeling grows anymore, if this feeling climaxes, he is certain he will shatter.

Someday, he allows himself to hope, maybe.

Inhaling deeply, Dream keeps his hands where they are, unmoving, “I…” he clears his throat, if only to buy himself a moment to gather his confidence, “I think…. I think that I would like a bath. The- the one you described.”

He cannot help but curl into himself, waiting to find out if his answer was right or wrong and what the cost would be either way.

Hob only cracks one eye open to smile at him, and Dream is not as surprised as he used to be, “Excellent,” Hob responds easily. Then he closes his eye again, humming as he settles deeper into the bath, “I will ask you again tomorrow to be sure, and if you still say yes, then I will make sure you get everything you want,” he promises with a voice that is closer to a purr than Dream thought anyone other than a cat could make.

Swallowing, Dream simply nods, even though Hob cannot see him. It occurs to him that if tomorrow he says no, Hob might not be mad at him, might not punish him in any way at all. It makes him want to say yes even more.

“I think I will stay here until we lose our sunshine,” Hob says with a sigh, “If you would like to stay with me?”

Dream looks out the windows. The sun is beginning to dip in the sky, but there is probably another hour or two before it finally dips below the horizon. It doesn’t take him as long as he expects to make his decision.

Despite Hob’s closed eyes, Dream still moves hesitantly, giving Hob plenty of opportunity to scold him or tell him to stop. When he remains silent, Dream lays himself down to press his cheek against the thick, soft fibers of the rug. His spine curves as he curls into himself, tail wrapped around his body as he makes himself small, and safe, and… comfortable. He feels so warm, laying in the sun with Hob on the other side of the room with him. His body relaxes and calms, his eyes drifting shut.

“Yes,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “I think I would like to stay.”

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Frigid (Ghost/Soap/Reader)

CW: Threesome, Anal, Vaginal, Oral (Giving/Recieving), Facials, Slight Breeding Kink, Alcohol

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader. They/Them Used

WC: 4.2k

The frigid air chapped my face. My eyelashes had frozen together in the blizzard-like conditions. Despite the layers of thermal clothing I had on under my snow gear, the chill went straight to my bones. I clenched my jaw tightly, hoping to dull the sound of my clattering teeth. 

Tucked up ahead between two rocky ridges was a plain looking concrete building. Through the blinding snow, it could’ve been easily mistaken for just another steep cliff face. I glanced back at the two men beside me. Captain McTavish’s brunette facial hair was now speckled with white. A blush had settled on his cheeks as the frost nipped his skin. Ghost was the furthest behind. While the balaclava on his face shielded him from the whipping wind, I didn’t doubt that he was miserable, trekking supplies through the deep snow. 

We approached the safe house. It looked like an abandoned bunker. Graffiti defaced the gray concrete exterior. Without a window, I couldn’t glance at the interior just yet. Johnny pulled out a set of keys from his pocket, the clanging just barely audible over the roaring storm. He inserted the key into the rusted knob and twisted, pushing weight onto the door with his shoulder. The door gave way and the three of us quickly rushed inside, slamming the door behind us. 

“Please tell me there’s a space heater or something,” I said as I brushed the snow off of my coat. 

“Think so. Dinnae see why there wouldn’t be,” Johnny huffed as he stepped into another room. The lights flicked on, and the low hum of electronics whirred to life. I glanced over my shoulder as one of the vents clattered, drawing my attention. I reached my gloved hand up to the vent. The faintest wave of heat washed over me. I grinned as I slipped my gloves off. 

“Central heating. They really spoiled us this time,” I said with a laugh. I undid the zipper of my overcoat next. I stepped into the next room, glancing across the arrangement of couches. It was decorated as if it was a home. A cow skin rug covered the floor. Atop it sat a wooden coffee table. 

“Are we sure this isn’t some kind of fancy bomb shelter?” I asked, dropping my coat on the floor. 

“Bloody looks like one,” Ghost muttered. I stepped out of my boots, leaving them by the door to dry. My fingers went to the buttons on my overalls, snapping them out of place. 

“Drinks!” Johnny shouted from another room. His boots clattered against the floor. With every step, the bottles in his arms clinked. I grinned at the Scotsman as I stepped out of the overalls. I felt much more comfortable in my sweats, without the suffocating feeling of gear on me. 

“Nice score, Johnny,” I said as I took a seat on the couch. 

Johnny was one of the first people I’d met on base. Being a computer expert, we often worked closely together. His personality was what struck me first. Others had said he acts like a puppy. I couldn’t help but agree. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to see that beaming grin of his. 

It was on one of our nights off, at a bar near base, that we became friends. We spent the night talking over whiskey and swapping stories. He was affectionate, and touchy. With anyone else, I would’ve been put off, however it suited him perfectly. A simple touch of the shoulder could put you at ease instantly. 

Ghost was another story. The two of them were close, I knew that. Ghost was a prominent figure in the many stories he’d told me, and in the field the two almost always shared a tent. They’d been working for years together by this point. And yet, I couldn’t ever seem to break through his tough exterior. 

Any time we’d go out drinking, he sat silently, offering a small chuckle or a grunt occasionally. It was only after a few glasses that you’d really hear his voice, deep and gruff. And it was only after a bottle that I ever got to see his face. That night ended with the two of us dragging him back to base, nearly tripping over our feet to step over the trail of vomit he left. 

“Aye, they got bourbon. Tha’s fer you then.” He said, handing me a bottle. I popped the cap open with a grin and took a swig. The liquid hit my throat with a heat high enough to melt the snow off of my lashes. I pursed my lips as I swallowed, humming lightly. It was strong, much stronger than anything we had on base. I set the bottle between my thighs and watched as Johnny set the bottles on the table. I patted the space next to me with the palm of my hand. With his own drink in his grasp, he sat next to me. 

The couch cushions shifted under his weight. He threw his arm over my shoulder, now dressed down in a pair of thermal garments.

“To a job well done,” he said, lifting his bottle. I chuckled, clinking my drink against his. “You still need to show me how you rigged the detonator up to that computer.” He brought the bottle to his lips, eyes closing as he took down a few drinks. 

“Course,” I said, nudging him with my shoulder. “Ghost, what are you drinking tonight?” I asked the man. He picked up a bottle of what looked to be vodka. With Cyrillic letters, I couldn’t quite tell.

“Mystery Slav juice,” he grunted, taking a seat on the other couch. “Bloody hell my back is killing me.”

As the night went on, my limbs got warmer and warmer, and my bottle grew emptier and emptier. Mask discarded, the stuff man sitting across from me began to slowly open up. 

“You ever hook up with anyone on base?” Ghost asked with one of his legs crossed over the other. I laughed at the question, tightening the grip on my bottle. 

“Nah, never gotten that desperate,” I answered. He furrowed his brows, brown eyes flicking between me and Johnny. 

“I thought you two were going at it,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Simon, I said I wanted to, not that I had,” soap sighed. “Damn blonde cannae listen can he?” He whispered next to my ear. I chuckled, feeling an intense heat rise in my cheeks. The admission didn’t surprise me, but saying the quiet part out loud did. 

“We got damn close that one night, course I was actually dolled up. Figured that might’ve done it for him,” I pushed my elbow into his ribs. Simon tapped his fingers against the arm of the couch, lips pressed tightly together. 

“C’mon don’t get jealous now, Ghosty.” Johnny whined, squeezing me tighter. His tone made me stop. I glanced up at the blonde sitting across from me, brows furrowed as I sifted through my thoughts. Jealous? Sure, it could’ve been a joke, but the looks ghost was giving me were just that, jealous. 

“Are you two…” I paused, looking at the two in hopes they’d cut me off. Johnny opened his mouth, as if he were going to speak, then closed it again. 

“Couple times,” Ghost spoke bluntly. 

“More’n a couple,” he corrected, “why, you getting jealous too?” The answer to his question was an undeniable yes. After that night of drunken, grabby hands, I couldn’t help but wish it had ended differently. 

I set my glass down on the table, refusing to answer his inquiry. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his jaw drop. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smirk as the realization struck him. I was. 

“Oh my god,” he gripped my jaw, turning my face to look at him. “You are!” I pushed away from him, trying to hide my flushed cheeks. With a soft plop I landed on my side on the couch. Johnny stood up with a grin, setting his bottle down and bringing his hands to my calves. He pulled me down the couch and onto my back, then quickly leaned down to pull my hands away from my face.

“I d’nt even think you wanted to go there,” he grinned, eyes scanning my face. 

“Johnny we almost-“

“You fell asleep!” He bursted out laughing. “They fell asleep on me!” He explained to Ghost. 

“I was drunk!” I retorted, wrestling against his grip on my wrist, “I didn’t want it to end like that,” I pouted.

“Well, how’d you want it to end?” Ghost asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

I couldn’t help the rush of heat that went between my legs. The way he looked at me with half-lidded eyes and dilated pupils- it drew my attention. Johnny gently placed his hand on my cheek. I brought my gaze back to him, brows furrowing as I opened my mouth to speak. 

“I wanted it to end with us fucking- I really did,” I confessed, glancing away from him. He pushed one of my legs up over his hip and leaned down, hips pressing flush against mine. From underneath the layers of wool, I could feel something stiff pressing against my thigh. My head spun as his face grew closer to mine. 

His lips were chapped, and his stubble scratched my cheeks, and yet I couldn’t pull away. The way his hands skimmed up and down my body had me holding my breath. Our lips moved against each other at a steady rhythm. I could taste the alcohol on his breath. It was bitter and smoky, just like his voice. 

His warm fingers slid underneath my sweatshirt. I twitched under his touch, whining against his lips as his fingers teased my ribs, toying with the band of my sports bra. With a muffled groan, his lips moved to my jaw, hot breath teasing my earlobe as he pressed messy kisses to my skin. 

“Simon,” I spoke up, looking over at the blonde. He simply grunted and stood up, not even sparing me a glance as he walked past the couch. I sat up, slipping out of Johnny's grip. I followed after the brit, my feet thumping as I hurried my pace. My fingers gripped his arm and roughly spun him around. With a firm grasp on the collar of his shirt, I pulled him down into a kiss. Without another word he gripped the back of my thighs, lifting me into the air. I crossed my ankles behind his back and smiled against his lips. 

Ghost’s lips were soft. He tasted of tobacco and sweat. His fingers gripped my hips tightly. His thumb stroked my thigh gently as he took a step forward. Maybe it was the booze, maybe the lips on my skin, but a heat struck me. It started in my face, toasting my cheeks. Traveling lower, a steady simmer settled in my stomach, dipping even lower. 

The couch creaked as he dropped me onto the cushions. A pair of warm hands went to my thigh. Johnny tugged my leg up onto his, spreading my knees apart. Simon took a seat at my other side, gently caressing my knee with his fingertips. Johnny reached out, grabbing the blonde's face and pulling him into a quick kiss. 

“You in, L.T.?” Johnny asked with a smirk. Wordlessly, Ghost nodded. “What about you, huh? Think y’can take us both?”

I leaned in, pressing my lips to the Scotsman. He smirked into the kiss and began hastily undoing the drawstring of my sweats. He kneeled between my legs, tugging roughly at my sweats. My body jolted as he yanked them down my hips, along with my underwear. He gripped my thighs and pulled me further down the couch until my ass was hanging off the cushions. He threw my legs over his shoulder and leaned in, licking a thick stripe up my cunt. I threw my head back against the couch and choked out a moan. With one hand I gripped Simon's thigh tightly, with the other, I tugged on Johnny's Mohawk.

Simon gripped my chin tightly and tilted my head to the side. He roughly began sucking and biting at my neck, leaving purple splotches behind. My breathing grew shallow and fast. The attention Johnny focused on my clit clouded any thoughts in my head. He traced tight circles around my clit with the tip of his tongue. My hips twitched, bucking away from his mouth. With a bruising grip, he held my hips in place, forcing me to endure the pleasure. 

“He’s good isn’t he,” Simon whispered next to my ear. His belt clattered as he undid the buckle. He pushed his pants down his hips, just enough for his cock to spring free. I let out a moan when I saw it. 

I didn’t doubt he would be big. Being over six feet tall, it’s guaranteed. What I didn’t expect were the two barbells at the bottom of his shaft. The silver complimented his pale skin, now flushed red with arousal. 

Johnny wrapped his lips around my clit and began roughly sucking. My thighs quaked and gently squeeze his head. My stomach tensed, drawing tighter with every flick of his tongue. Bringing my attention back to Simon, I held his cock and began slowly stroking him with a gentle twist. 

“Use your fingers, Johnny,” Simon grunted as he leaned in for a chaste kiss. 

My jaw fell slack as I felt the intrusion of two fingers. The sound it made as he began to slowly thrust the digits inside me was pornographic. Simon took advantage of my arousal, slipping his tongue past my parted lips, moaning into my mouth as I stroked him faster. At the end of every stroke, I teased his tip with the palm of my hand before slipping my hand back down his length. 

Johnny added a third finger. Every thrust shot straight up my spine, sending shoelaces across my body. My vision blurred. I could no longer focus on the blonde beside me, and my strokes grew erratic. And then it happened. 

He moaned. Directly into my cunt. It wasn’t a deep, growling moan, but a desperate whine. The vibrations pushed me over the edge. Both of my hands gripped tightly onto his hair, holding him steady as my climax wracked my body. My legs squeezed tightly around his head, and my back arched up off of the couch. The noises that fell from my lips were obscene and loud, completely unfiltered. 

My chest heaved, sweat running down my sternum as I slowly came back to reality. As my vision cleared, I could see both men staring down at me with blown out pupils. Johnny's face was soaked. Droplets stuck to his beard, just barely visible in the dim light. Johnny cupped my cheek, gently brushing away the tears that had fallen from my eyes. 

“There you are,” Johnny said with a smile. Simon pressed a gentle kiss to my temple, his fingers stroking my sore thighs. 

“Are you okay? You stopped responding for a bit,” Simon asked as he put his arm around my shoulder. 

“M’fine,” I slurred, placing my hand over Johnny’s. 

“D’ye want to keep goin’?” Johnny asked. I nodded, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Let’s make up fer tha’ one night then, yeah?” He smirked. As he stood up, my eyes went straight to his cock. His thermal pants were already halfway down his hips. A string of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his cock. He glanced over at Simon, then nodded his head toward me. Simon circled around the back of the couch and gripped my biceps tightly. He pulled me toward the end of the couch until my head brushed against the arm. His thumb gently stroked my bottom lip, and then his lips were one mine. It was brief and teasing. I pouted as I watched him circle the couch again. 

Johnny settled between my legs, hands stroking my knees as he gently parted my legs. His pants had been discarded among the pile of messy clothes by the coffee table. With his thumb he guided his cock into my entrance. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he inched forward. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, hips twitching as he bottomed out. Our bodies rocked in sync as he started up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of me. My toes were already curling. The way he filled me up was delectable, addicting even. He knew how to move, angling up to hit all the right places. 

Simon placed his hand on Johnny's shoulder, nudging him to lean down. The brunette placed his hands on either side of my head. He stilled inside of me, squeezing his eyes shut. 

I watched as his face contorted. He moaned out Simon’s name and began moving again. It was shallower than before, that was noticeable. But the look on his face more than made up for it. 

“Keep moving, sergeant. Don’t want to disappoint, now do we,” Simon said from behind Johnny. I felt a blush creep across my cheeks as I realized what was happening. Simon was knuckle deep in Johnny, pushing his hips forward, and into me. 

Johnny sped up, little noises escaping his mouth with every thrust. He grabbed my shirt, pushing it up over my chest. He pinched my nipples, toying with the sensitive skin. I whined and grabbed his wrist. My back arched up off of the couch as the pain drew me further into bliss. I reached up, holding his face with my hand. The stubble of his beard tickled my palm. I tugged him into a heated kiss. His spit soaked lips parted. I whimpered as he bit down on my lower lip. 

And then his eyes screwed shut. He parted his lips and shuddered. Simon gripped Johnny’s hips tightly, pushing him forward until he bottomed out inside me. 

“Let’s see who breaks first then,” Simon chuckled. 

The couch creaked as the both of them began moving. With every thrust from Simon, it sent Johnny forwards, hitting deeper and deeper. Johnny now braced both of his hands on the arm of the couch, using the leverage to drill into me fast and hard. 

“Fuck- y’feel so good!” Johnny moaned. 

Simon reached forwards, gripping Johnny’s throat tight. I watched as his blue eyes glazed over, and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. 

“Like getting it from both ends, Johnny?” Simon growled, rutting forward roughly. 

“I-I can’t- “he stuttered, eyes going cross. 

“Yes, you can. Now c’mon, play with their clit.”

The vulgar display in front of me was already pushing me closer to my climax. The minute Johnny began circling his thumb around my clit, I twitched, clenching tight around his cock. Johnny shuddered, head hanging low. His blue eyes locked onto me, my scrunched-up face, and my quivering thighs. 

“Ooh, you’re squeezing me, Johnny. You close?” Simon teased, moving his hand from Johnny’s throat, down his chest to toy with his nipple.

“Fuck yes!” Johnny cried out as his eyelids fluttered shut. I reached up and gripped his chin, pulling him close to me. I pressed a kiss along his jawline before pulling back. 

“Johnny I want you to cum in me,” I spoke softly next to his ear. 

His eyes shot open and his gaze met mine, as if asking if I was serious. I smirked, watching as he reached his orgasm. His pace grew erratic and arrhythmic. Obscenities flew out of his mouth as he came, flooding my insides with warmth. 

“GonnaFUCKin’breedye. Soo good” he slurred, punctuating his words with a groan. 

And then he stilled. His lips were parted as he painted, catching his breath. Sweat beaded down his forehead and chest. Simon pulled out, letting his hands drop to the Scotsman’s waist. Johnny whimpered and stood up on shaky legs. With a thud he threw his body down onto the other couch. 

“Now I wanna see what’s got him all worked up,” Simon said, pulling a condom off of his cock. A condom which I couldn’t recall him putting on. He grabbed my hips roughly and flipped me onto my stomach. 

“Nice and wet, aren’t you,” He smacked my cunt with the palm of his hand. I could feel the cum leaking out of me, running down my thighs. He pushed inside me all at once, knocking the breath from my lungs. I buried my face into the cushion, muffling the moan that came out of me as I felt him stretch my insides. 

“Tight too,” he grunted. “Wish you hadn’t kept this nice pussy a secret.”

“Simon!” I cried out as he pistoned his hips in and out of me. He was faster, rougher than Johnny was, and yet hit all the same spots. The barbells at the base of his cock made me shudder as I felt them pressing against me. 

With every thrust, his balls smacked against my clit. My stomach tensed as he continued his assault on my insides. 

“Next time, Johnny and I oughta fill both your holes,” Simon spat, gripping tightly on my hair. I couldn’t help the heat that rose in my stomach, or that I clenched around his cock. 

“Oooh you like that don’t you. Dirty slag,” he landed a harsh smack on my ass. I jolted, crying out his name. “Hear that Johnny? Looks like we’ve got some DP on our list.” 

I glanced up at the couch. Johnny was sitting up, watching the two of us. His hand stroked his cock which was already hard again. I licked my lips, eyes flicking from his cock to his flushed face. 

“Come here,” I said, biting my lower lip. He obliged, rising, and making his way toward me. I held my mouth open for him, reaching out to grab his cock with my hand. Simon grabbed both of my hands and roughly tugged them behind my back. I winced at the tugging pain in my shoulder, then returned my attention to Johnny. He slid his cock into my mouth, gently placing his hand on the back of my head. He pushed more of his length into my mouth. 

Simon pulled out before sinking back in, roughly thrusting against my cervix. I moaned around Johnny's cock, earning a grunt from him. I could feel Simon's cock twitch inside me. I could feel that he was close with the way he sped up, somehow hitting even deeper inside me. 

“Gonna fuck another load into you,” Simon groaned, gripping my hips tightly. Between the dirty talk and the soft moans coming from Johnny as I swirled my tongue, I felt myself drowning in lust. My extremities were burning, muscles tensing as I approached my climax. My vision grew hazy as my eyes unfocused, and the pang of arousal in my stomach grew deeper. I pulled off of Johnny’s cock, contorting as I came. A string of obscenities slid off of my tongue in a sputtering, incoherent mess. Simon stilled inside of me with a grunt, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into my heated skin. With a tug of my hair, Johnny tilted my head. I watched as he jerked his cock by my face, brows furrowing as he reached his second orgasm. His cock twitched, then spurted pearly strings of cum over my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and parted my lips, sticking out my tongue. 

Once he finished, he loosened the grip on my hair. I was left feeling utterly spent. I could feel the cum oozing out of me, making a mess of my legs. The strings of cum landed in my eyelashes, weighing them down. 

“Is there a bathtub here? Something like that?” Simon asked from behind me. 

“Down the hall. I’ll start the water.”

And then I was being lifted, pulled into a sweaty chest. With a swipe of his thumb, Simon wiped my eyes clean. I opened my eyes, only to be met with a brown gaze. I hooked my arms around the back of his neck, resting my head on his collarbone as he walked towards the bathroom. 

Steam rose from the half-full tub. Johnny held out his arms for me. The tile floor was cold against my feet. Simon gently set me down, holding onto my hip in case I fell. I stepped forward and into Johnny's arms. Glancing back over my shoulder, I watched as the blonde turned away. 

“You’re not joining us?” I asked.

“We’re not fitting in that tub. I’ll use the shower.” He mumbled. 

I reached out, grabbing his arm. With a small tug he inched closer. I propped myself up on my toes and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. When I pulled back he was smiling, the first time I’d seen it. It was subtle, just a curl of his lips, but it was definitely a smile. 

Johnny helped me step into the tub. The hot water soothed my aching muscles. He slipped in behind me, pulling me into his lap. My back pressed against his chest, and he settled his hands in my lap, fingers gently skimming my thighs. 

“So we’re doin’ this again, right?”

[witchcoochie]

I saw a tiktok today that said it was so much more devastating if Sirius’s mother did love him, even if it was horrible and flawed. So I used that idea to create this little excerpt. Let me know what you think!

The idea for this one is that Sirius is supposed to take the dark mark and is refusing, Walburga tries to get him to “see sense” as Voldemort will likely kill him for refusing to join the cause. This is also the night that Sirius would have escaped to the Potter’s house.

TW: mentions of torture/child abuse, implied domestic violence.

As usual, none of these characters belong to me:)

——————

“You insolent child!” Walburga screeched as soon as the door to Orions study closed behind her, “Do you understand what you have just done?!”

Sirius ripped his arm out of his mothers tight grasp, her nails leaving behind red indents in his skin.

“I understand that I refuse to be a soldier for a mad man! It’s horrific the way he talks! He’s going to get us all—“

The sharp sting of a backhand cut off his ranting.

“You are going to get us killed!” His mother heaved, her voiced tinged with a hint of desperation he had never heard before.

Sirius ignored it.

“Me?!” He bellowed, cradling his jaw, “You have put your faith in a fool!”

“I am trying to save you!” His mother screamed back, “You brash, idiotic— you are my son!”

Sirius stared at her with his eyes wide, his mouth parted in shock.

“You are my son.” Walburga repeated desperately, a hint of his mother— his Maman— peaked through her usual icy mask. “Can’t you see that this is the only way to ensure our kind survives?”

“He’s talking about genocide!” Sirius croaked back, “People I care about are being hunted like animals!”

“Those little blood traitors and mudbloods you surround yourself with are filling your head with nonsense, Sirius!” Walburga yelled again, practically begging Sirius to listen. “This is how we survive!”

“Thousands of innocent people will die!” Sirius yelled back, matching his mother’s intensity.

“I don’t care!” Walburga was back to screeching now. “We will be safe! You and Regulus will be safe! You will take the mark and you will have the Dark Lord’s protection!”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Sirius scoffed, “He’s marching purebloods off into battle like cows to slaughter!”

“Silence!” Walburga screamed, brandishing her wand. “I have had enough of your obstinance! The Dark Lord asked for you by name!” Her voice wobbled. “You will get the mark because you are the Black heir and it is your duty to protect your family!”

“He is who we need protecting from!” Sirius yelled again, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I will not be another one of his mindless followers!”

The small glimpse of his Mother behind the mask disappeared as Walburga’s face grew dark. “Fine, then, I will just have to convince you.”

Sirius swallowed and stepped backwards and his mother raised her wand. “Maman—“

“Crucio.” He barely heard her say the spell. It was hardly loud enough to even be a whisper, then he could hear nothing but his own screaming.

Why his mother had cast the spell like it hurt her too was a question that faded away into the red hot agony, then into blackness as the pain pulled Sirius into unconsciousness.

…

Sirius woke up to a painful hum throughout his entire body, and whimpered.

His face was streaked with tears and snot, pressed into the extravagant rug that laid across the floor of his Father’s study.

He laid with his eyes shut, trying to remember the events leading to him face down on the floor in this room.

“Are you ready to be reasonable now?”

His Mother’s voice cut through the fog in his head and all he could remember was the pain pain pain pain.

Maman,” he croaked, “please, Maman—“

“Say yes, Sirius.” She almost sounded like she was begging, a thought Sirius quickly pushed aside as a post-torture delusion.

Walburga Black did not beg.

She demanded and took and apparently she also tortured her children with unforgivable curses—that was a fun new one—but she would never stoop so low as to beg.

“I won’t.” Sirius’s voice cracked.

Silence.

“You must.” She whispered back. “Crucio.”

Pain engulfed Sirius like fire to kindling, until he felt like it was all he was. Blissfully, after what felt like an eternity, unconsciousness took him back again.

…

Walburga swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the face of her first born, her son, the brightest star in the sky, memorizing him. She knew after he fell into unconsciousness for a second time that he couldn’t take any more.

The Dark Lord would have his life for this, she knew. Her first son, her baby, her star.

Walburga smoothed down her skirt, an anxious tick she had developed, and breathed in deeply. Regulus wasn’t so stubborn. She could save him. It wasn’t both of them, but she could save one. One son.

Then, with elegance fitting a witch of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Walburga looked at her eldest son one last time before she straightened her back and turned out the door; leaving Sirius laying unconscious on the floor of Orion’s study.

…

Walburga dropped her head to her hands as soon as the door closed behind her, taking in a shaky breath.

Sirius’s pleading words rung in her head.

“Maman, please, Maman.”

Her eyes stung.

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman,” Orions barking voice snapped her out of her head.

Walburga whipped her head up to look at her husband, standing before her, his face twisted in disgust.

“Get yourself together before somebody sees you,” He hissed, before walking back towards the lounge, where the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters waited.

She nodded silently, quickly wiping under her eyes, ensuring no tears had escaped. Walburga smoothed down her skirt once more with shaking hands and raised up the occulmency walls in her head before following dutifully behind her husband.

Silent, but alive.