#has me fucking biting at the bars of my cage for more

[star--anon]

how have I never talked about Frypan and Gally before

oh my god I have typed and discarded so many drafts talking about this to the point where I literally forgot that I've never posted something talking about it

listen listen. In the books, Newt tells Thomas that most Gladers take on more than one job. And I always wondered what Frypan did when he wasn't cooking..

and for some reason I figured he'd be a Builder.. He develops his own cooking recipes and loves fiddling around with different ideas, testing out measurements and quantities of ingredients and different flavors etc. etc.

He'd fit right in as a (part-time) Builder

His and Gally's relationship was mostly inspired when I rewatched Maze Runner. Gally storms off, and Frypan grabs his arm and goes, "Gally.." to which Gally shakes him off with, "Nah, Fry." He leaves, and Frypan chases after him. That one single moment implies so much ohmygod-

[sea-lanterns]

BAD DOG!

synopsis: you decide to muzzle your puppy girlfriend for the first time

featuring: jean, navia, beidou, miko

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dog hybrid characters, muzzles, biting, possessive characters, feral women, transfem navia and transfem miko, cunni.lingus (jean), sixty nine position (jean), pet names, degradation, knotted strap ons (beidou), mating press (beidou), knots, bre.eding kink (miko), predator and prey kink (miko) do.ggy style (miko), may be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: unknown (found on pinterest)

JEAN

“My darling please, please…I want to taste you so bad…please…” Jean whimpered and pawed at your fingers to unfasten the muzzle currently strapped to her jaw. She even growled a bit louder than usual as her floppy little tail wagged back and forth in anticipation of having your sweet pussy on her tongue. “I don’t even understand why I have to wear this…” Jean whines, her floppy ears lowering, “I don’t even have a biting problem. I’ve been more than gentle with you, my love…”

“It’s more so to satisfy a kink I have, rather than to actually punish you, Jean.” You chuckle quietly, gently stroking her sad puppy ears. “And you look so cute with the muzzle on!”

Jean whines and pushes her caged mouth closer to your face. “But I want to taste you…” she whispers into your ear, her lower body rubbing against your hips rather sensually. “I want to satisfy you. Shove my tongue inside that soft, velvety hole of yours and bury my face between your legs until— mmpf…” 

Her pupils blow back in lust when you gently rub against the crotch area of her pants, watching as a little wet spot begins to form the harder you continue to rub. “You will, but right now I want to see my puppy whine for me.”

And Jean did just that, her tail flopping submissively as she leans forward to press her muzzled face against your cheek. Her tongue pathetically darts out to try and kiss you through the metal bars of her caged head, whimpering as she could barely even reach you for a kiss. “My love…”

Oh this was torture for poor little Jean. She had spent the day working hard with only thoughts of her pretty girlfriend to keep her occupied. She was so eager to sink her thirsty little mouth into your dripping wet cunt, yet here you were, teasing her for no reason with this embarrassing toy of yours that restricted her access to tasting you! 

“At least let me kiss you…” Jean whispers softly, looking up at you with those big, pathetic puppy dog eyes that you grew oh so weak to. “I want to kiss my girlfriend, please…”

“Ohhh, Jean…” Fuck. You can’t help but instinctively reach over to unfasten the strap to her muzzle. “Fine. But only one ki— AH!” 

What a trickster! Jean has instantly torn off the muzzle and crawled down to face your clothed cunt, before tearing off your underwear with one eager claw. 

“Jean!”

“I’m sorry! I’ll buy you another pair!”

Yet she didn’t look too apologetic as she immediately drooled at the sight of your bare pussy before face planting right into your folds, moaning when she felt her tongue hit contact against your clit. Eager that she was, Jean lapped at your swollen slit like it was a treat that had been dangling above her for hours, the feeling of her drooling, messy tongue just sloppily pushing against your lips making you feel like you were in heaven.

“Ah…! Eager puppy, aren’t you?” You looked up to see her curly tail just wagging so much in excitement, the feast between your legs proving to be quite an amazing treat for your dearest puppy girl; Jean. 

“Heh, don’t worry, I’ll do the same to you. You deserve the same treatment, my love.”

NAVIA

“Hey, why do I have to wear this?!”

Navia looked so annoyed. An angry pout on her usually friendly face, as it was rare for your girlfriend to ever get mad at you. “I just thought it’d look funny on you,” you giggled softly, covering your mouth to hide your grin. “Plus, sometimes you bite. Not very gently, either.”

“I do not!” Navia huffed and tried to get you to take it off, nuzzling her caged mouth against your cheek. “Take it off right now! I want to kiss you!” 

She growled softly and rutted her hips against your own, pinning you down with her body weight while making sure you could feel the small bulge growing underneath her skirt. She smirked when she saw you realize the stiffie, making sure to roll her hips a little more languidly in order for you to feel all of her arousal. “Come on baby…this isn’t fair to me…” Navia whispers, pouting down at you while her tail swishes rather intimidatingly. “Get the muzzle off…it’s too distracting as I can’t pleasure you properly. Please? Don’t you want me to fuck you full already…?” 

She smiled ever so innocently, never mind the fact that she had plans to completely wreck you in revenge for putting her in a muzzle in the first place! 

“Hmmmm…I don’t know if my puppy deserves to be off the muzzle tonight…” you teased, watching as your girlfriend’s face darkened and a small, irritated growl left her throat. “Perhaps she should prove to me she can control herself without restriction?” You playfully looped your finger through the loop of her collar, staring at the gold rose shaped emblem at the center and pulling her closer to face you. “My puppy has an uncontrollable biting problem after all. Bad girl.” 

Navia growled louder and her tail swished even faster, pushing your wrists above your head and lowering her caged mouth to your ears. 

“I’ll show you uncontrollable.” 

Your body involuntarily shivered at the hot breath let out from your girlfriend’s teeth. You knew Navia would never hurt you, she was always so sweet and gentle when it came to your sex life, yet it seems this time you pushed her buttons a little too far. “I’m going to take off your pants, okay? If I rip them, sorry in advance.”

Your cheeks burned red when she suddenly grabbed onto your bottoms and slid them off aggressively. It was clear that Navia was excited, the massive grin on her face proving so as she made quick work of discarding both of your undergarments. In an instant, you felt Navia’s hot, heavy cock land right on top of your aching clit. Her knot swelling at the base, ready to pump itself eagerly into you if you allowed her to. 

“Hah…muzzle or not, I think I’ve been too lenient on you. You think you can push me around, bratty girl? Hm?” Navia grinned and slowly grinded her member against your folds, chuckling at the way they seemed to glisten whenever she dragged herself a bit slower than usual. “Well, maybe it’s about time I stop pleasing my sweet owner…”

BEIDOU

Beidou didn’t care if you muzzled her or not. She just wanted to fuck your brains out and have you a sobbing, moaning puddle under her while she railed you on her strap. Through heavy pants and labored grunts, your big, overgrown puppy woman held you down into a mating press and rammed the hefty strap on as far as she could go, growling whenever you whined and tugged on her leash, as she knew she was doing a great job.

“Like that huh? You like it when I stuff you full on this big, meaty dick?” Beidou laughed to herself at the vulgar language she just used, smothering her muzzled mouth against your neck and letting strings of saliva drip down from the caged bars. “You’re so hot…hah…so hot and tight.”

Her big, bushy tail swished from left to right as she buried her sheath deeper into your succulent, wet walls. She wanted so desperately to sink her awaiting canines into your throat and mark you jaw to collarbone in her marks, yet because of that stupid muzzle, she had to settle for drooling all over your neck through the bars of her cage. 

“I would’ve covered you in teeth marks by now…” Beidou growls, glaring down at you with wild, frenzied eyes, “But, maybe it’s for the best. Wouldn’t want to accidentally make you scream.” 

She thrusted her hips a bit sharper, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from your throat. 

“…Well, from pain.” 

Beidou chuckled and closed her eyes, lazily fucking you with greed as she wanted nothing more than to see the fake knot at the base of her strap, plug you all the way in when you eventually came. She shamelessly swiped her tongue across the metal bars of her muzzle, groaning at the metallic taste before nuzzling against your cheek. “So, princess, do you think you could take the muzzle off now?” She grinned, her tongue darting out to try and lick you through the gaps of her confines, “I’ve been such a good dog for you already…”

“You’ll…bite me all over…” you whispered breathlessly, whining when she gripped your hips tighter within her claws and thrusted her strap even rougher.

“I’d bite you eventually when this muzzle comes off…” Beidou groans, pushing the muzzle harder against your cheek as she rutted her strap at a much more feverish pace. “Though, the longer you keep this up, the more desperate I’ll be, baby…”

She gently pushed herself deeper into you, her tail beating faster against the bed when she saw the tiny tummy bulge pushing against your skin from how deep she was inside of you. “Archons, you’re so pretty…” she whispered out huskily, roaming her giant hands all around the skin of your stomach and pushing lightly on the bulge. “But, you’d definitely be even prettier once I get my canines all over you.”

It was there that Beidou finally used those giant claws of hers to disobey you, ripping the muzzle off with brute force and grinning down at you with wolfish features. The yelp you let out was adorable as Beidou suddenly pushed your legs up higher, pretty much folding you more in the mating press and moving her teeth dangerously close to your inner thighs. 

“It’s been looking a little too barren down here. Perhaps I should change that…”

MIKO

Out of all the women to have been strapped with a muzzle, Miko was definitely the most furious. She had you bent over in front of her on the bed, doggy style as she pumped her angry red cock inside of you at a pace similar to that of when she was in a rut. The poor woman felt as if her ego had been shattered to pieces the moment you tricked her and got her to wear a muzzle. Now you are suffering the consequences of your actions, as Miko was not stopping her relentless pace and would growl in your ear whenever you tried to complain.

“M-Miko! Ah! S-Slow…down…” 

Your body moved pathetically with each harsh thrust, as Miko seemed to be trying to vent out her anger on you for making her wear such an embarrassing thing. “Cheeky brat…you really think this pathetic thing could stop me from biting you?” 

A low, husky growl emitted from her throat as she pushed her swollen member deeper into your cunt. “I could rip this muzzle off like paper. But…I’ll indulge in my little one’s silly little kinks for now.” She grinned maliciously and pushed you farther into the bed, rutting her hot and heavy cock deeper within you, as she was intent in possibly breeding you fully. 

“So tight…you like it when I go rough, hm? All muzzled and rabid like an animal?” She looked ticked off at her own words, her fox ears twitching in frenzy as she wanted to make you pay for teasing her. 

“N-No…that’s not what I meant— h-haah…” Miko grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at her, her sweet little pupils turning into slits as she took in how utterly delectable you looked underneath her. It was actually triggering her predator instincts to hold you down and claim you as her “prey.” 

“Liar. You’re such a cute little liar.” Miko grinned wolfishly through the bars of her muzzle and stuffed her knot deeper against your cunt. The base of it started to swell as she was getting ready to breed you full on her kitsune seed. “Look at you…barely able to talk even though I’m the one wearing this contraption,” she tsked and trailed one of her clawed fingers down your stomach, gently circling the growing bulge on your tummy that moved with each thrust of her dick. “Even when muzzled, you still act like a cute little bunny.” 

She licked her lips and felt the base of her knot begin to swell, her head throwing back in ecstasy as she prepared to fill you fully until her cum was leaking out of you. “Ah…you tightened a bit when I said that. You must really like being degraded, huh?” 

Miko growled and pushed her knot a bit deeper, forcing you to take a girthier bulb as she drooled a bit through the metal bars of her muzzle. 

“I can’t wait to devour this little bunny once I tear this muzzle off. Archons…that cute little pussy is mine.”

[soulaires]

Sweet Dreams | A.W

pairings: dad!Aaron Warner x mom!Reader

synopsis: Aaron loves his daughter, he really do. Hell, he would burn down the world for her but sometimes,, all he wanted was to spend one night alone with you—his beloved pretty wife.

warnings: interrupted sexy times, domestic life, GIRL DAD AARON WARNER LESSGOOO, comfort, nightmares, Aaron Warner is so done, reader and dior are little shits, fluff, married life, light smut obvi, it was interrupted though (literally the whole plot) not proofread …

« words: 1,607┇ao3┇reblogs are appreciated! »

🏷 :: @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan @nomournersonefuneral @lilyevansstudygroup @arinexeisnotworking

Aaron Warner is a good father.

He really is, he educated himself on the risks, pros and cons, he even bought himself a book on how to take care of his pregnant wife, a beginners guide on being a father and what not.

He would like to pride himself that he knows about everything, knows how to handle when the baby cries, when the baby throws a tantrum, or when his daughter wants something and such.

but…

If there was one fact no one mentioned to Warner about being a father, it was just how quickly his sex life would evaporate.

He loves dior, he really does. She is his most beloved daughter, baby girl, light of his life, his princess, his Achilles heel (plus you, of course.) and unfortunately the bane of his existence.

he’s kidding.

but of course there are some times that he just wants an alone time with you, his beautiful wife without being interrupted by a certain little princess.

All because you drove him to madness, igniting an insatiable desire within him, awakening the hidden beast that eagerly salivated and panted in response to your lustful glances, strategically unleashed whenever the mood struck.

He would be a fool to lie and pretend you didn’t stir something inside of him, some wretched version of himself rattled the bars of its cage, akin to a hurricane relentlessly tearing through barriers to reach you whenever you allowed your sugar-sweet voice to caress his sensitive ears.

He was a slave for the love you easily gave him as if it’s the easiest thing you can ever do. How can you easily love someone like him? a hopeless man yearning for thirst and begging for a single drink, a solitary taste, as if dying of thirst and pleading at your feet.

You were his goddess, and the privilege of sharing your bed, your throne, surpassed all his wildest dreams. Simply being by your side was more than he believed he deserved, and he vividly recalled the day he first encountered you—the day you convinced him that he was truly worth something.

—

The room is awash with the silvery glow of the moon, you notice, setting a tranquil atmosphere that amusingly contradicts the feverish warmth of Aaron's caresses. His kisses trace a journey from the curve of your neck to the hollow of your navel. However, any sense of composure shatters when your husband playfully bites your right nipple, sending all rational thoughts scattering out the window.

“Ah, Aaron,” you groan after a sharp nip against your collarbone. “fuck! baby…I—we can’t—!”

“Shh, we can, love. Dior is asleep” he whispers against your ear, “just let me take care of my wife, yeah?” He said as he caressed your hair, admiring your beauty under him. “It’s just us…” he said as he chuckled and that made you shiver.

“Pretty, momma…look at you, my pretty wife.” Aaron shifts to readjust himself as he hurriedly vanishes the remaining clothes and attacks your lips and kisses you passionately and hungrily as if he has been starved for years.

“Gods—look at you, ma, pretty as life and poison, want me to put another baby on you, hm?” he said as he dragged his teeth against your chest to taste your beating heart and he then placed soft and slow kisses on your face while stroking your face with his thumb.

You draw him closer, intending for a light and sweet kiss to allow your husband to continue his gentle touches. Yet, it’s not your fault that you find yourself getting lost in the sheer perfection that is Warner.

He, in turn, envelops both of you with his hand, stirring a gentle desire for more within you and oh, dear god, you need more.

Just as you are about to open your mouth to voice out your desires for a little more, a soft, almost inaudible knock interrupts the intimate moment.

The unmistakable soft voice of your three-year-old daughter pierces through the room, calling out, “momma..? dada..?” Panic flashes between you and Aaron, and hastily, you both scramble to locate your discarded clothes.

“mommy! daddy!” yelled dior through the door as she started knocking continuously that makes you and your husband panic more. “‘s da door broken..?!”

“just a second, princess,” Aaron softly calls out, panicking when his hard-on doesn’t seem to go away. Hell.

He glances up at his wife and stares at you, baffled when he realizes that you had already put on your night gown and on your way to open the door.

“Wha—how?” he asks in disbelief. “You were literally just—”

“Don’t underestimate me.” You joked.

Aaron dismissively shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and takes a seat on the bed, discreetly covering his arousal with the white comforter just as Dior bursts into the room and enthusiastically throws herself into your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, gently rubbing comforting circles on her back. “Nightmare, love?”

"Uh-huh," Dior nods against your neck, her tears leaving your nightgown slightly damp.

you picked her up and went to the bed as dior hugged her dad, sniffing as she softly cried, “oh, darling. What happened, princess? hm?” Asked Warner as he hugged his crying daughter to his arms.

“I—hiccup t-thought monsters got you,” said dior, her green eyes filled with tears. you then pulled her into a hug.

“aw, baby, we are fine,” you said, patting her back. you brush the blonde curls out of your daughter’s eyes. “yeah, sweetheart, no monsters here.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, looking suspiciously around their room.

“Promise,” you replied, assuringly as you stood up to rock her to calm her down.

“We promised, sweet princess. And if there is, daddy will scare the ugly monsters away,” your husband assured her from the bed as dior starting to calm down,

“really?” she said with a shaky voice and a glassy doe eyes and you almost cried seeing her state.

Poor baby.

“I promise, Di, daddy will protect you and momma.” Aaron said sincerely as you rocked her back and forth in your arms, running your fingers through her wild curls.

Dior sniffles start to quiet down. “Mhm…,” she says. “Can I stay here?” She looks at you with puppy eyes that is impossible for you to say no so you nodded.

“Of course, princess ,” Aaron responds, quietly mourning the loss of one night with his wife, alone.

As you continue rocking Dior in your arms, attempting to lull her into a peaceful slumber, your efforts are momentarily interrupted by her sweet voice, breaking the silence of the room.

“Mommy?” Dior queries after a few minutes, perched on your lap with a wide-eyed expression. “What's wrong with daddy?”

Your gaze shifts toward Aaron, who remains sprawled face-down on the bed, emitting occasional groans and muffled whines in his attempt to compose himself for the sake of your toddler. Suppressing a grin, you find amusement in his comical efforts.

“Well, Di,” you murmur, showering light kisses on your daughter’s chubby cheeks to conceal your amusement. “I think your daddy is having a nightmare, much like the one you just experienced.”

Dior gasps in innocent concern. ”Oh no! Mommy, give daddy kisses to scare the monsters away!”

Smiling at her pure-hearted suggestion, you gently explain, “I don’t think that will help, sweet thing.” Observing Dior's face scrunch up in confusion, you swiftly add, ”You see, adults have different nightmares than kids do.”

“But kisses always help!” Dior insists with unwavering conviction.

”Well, if you insist,” you reply, giving in to her innocent plea, and share a quiet laugh at the sheer delight evident on Dior's face.

As you comply with dior’s request, you peppered kisses onto your husband’s face, eliciting a chorus of giggles from both him and Dior.

After showering Aaron with a cascade of kisses, he playfully remarks, "Mhm, daddy is okay now, but he'll be even more okay if you give daddy a kiss too."

Dior, with her eyes sparkling, responds enthusiastically, "Okay, Daddy!" She complies, peppering him with a flurry of sweet kisses as you heard Aaron giggles so you did, and in the midst of the joyous exchange, she graciously plants kisses on your face, too.

“Thank you, baby. Ready for sleep?” You asked and the response is a barely there nod.

“Love you and g’night, little missy.” You whisper, your voice sounds like a lullaby to the quiet room.

Aaron chimes in, taking on the role of the protector, “daddy will be right here, chasing away any monsters that dare to bother you, emerald.”

Dior, even in her drowsy state, manages to mumble a sleepy “luvu, daffy, momfy” before succumbing to dreams. The room, now quiet except for the soft breathing of your little one.

Your husband then looked at you and softly smiled, “I’ll chase all of your monsters away, too, love.” you softly giggled and gave him a peck.

However, as the night deepens, you feel a pair of eyes on you. Turning your attention, you find your husband, his expression akin to a kicked puppy, a playful pout adorning his features. It’s a silent plea for the solitude that eluded him tonight, a longing for those moments when it’s just the two of you.

You meet his gaze, understanding the unspoken disappointment in his eyes. As a promise of solace, you assure him with a tender look that whispers, ”Next time, it'll be just us.” you promised him.

And you were never the one who breaks promises.

So, was it really a surprise that after you fulfilled your promise you found yourself with two positive pregnancy tests?

No, not really.

📫 :: my first post in 2024 ?!?!!? Anyway this will be a series !!! Next one will be the introduction of the new addition to the family and THE question of “where does baby come from?” From baby warner. Also, if you want to be added to my taglist please do let me know!

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [12]

pet!au | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

gentle

cw: angst, non-con touching, dub-con sex, smut, hate fucking if you squint

Click. Click. Click. 

Johnny won’t stop messing with his pen. Repetitive clicks echo in the small space in his art room as he hunches over his journal, shading away at some image just beyond your view. It’s distracting. That slip of plastic against plastic. It’s not as acidulous as a firing pin striking metal — nor is it nearly as dangerous — but it’s enough to get the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Enough to make you remember the weight of an empty gun biting into the palm of your hand. It’s unforgiving, like a bad dog. 

Brain too perforated to properly concentrate, you tap the eraser of your pencil against the notebook in your lap. The scrawlings of a madwoman taint the paper between its faded blue lines. It’s a gift from Johnny. Shoved it into your hands the other day because he said you looked bored. Told you that you fidget too much without something to busy yourself with, and he needs you to sit still in order to draw you properly. It was unusually astute of him to notice something so small about you. You’ve descried something more than just a lowering haze over the sapphire of his eyes, but you’re unable to put it into words. 

He’s different these days. You don’t know why.

Either way, you are grateful for the escape. You’ve repurposed this old, fading notebook into a diary of sorts. Some place to pour your thoughts out to something that has no other choice than to listen — something that cannot bite you. For so long you have carried so much inside of you; not just the pain and fear, but the little things, too. You nearly cried when you realized you finally had a place to put it — that weight — down. 

It wasn’t until you flipped to the first page that you realized you don’t know what the date is. Your passage of time has been warped again and again. A tablet dissolving in your drink made you lose days. Johnny taking you on the floor while a football game droned in the background made you lose years. You try to count the time in other ways. The length adding to your hair. Golden leaves catching fire on the fringes of the forest. An algid whisper on the wind dancing through the open window. The way summer dies with a sputtering pule. 

These days, you measure the turn of the earth by feel. Months. Hours. It doesn’t matter to you how long you have been trapped here; you only care about how much life you have left to live when you escape. 

Johnny. John? Soap. Like the bar. Never feels clean. Never makes me feel clean. Scottish. Tattoo on forearm. Coat of arms? Military? Wannabe? Scar on head. Shot? Simon said so. When? Who? Matching scar. No. Never. 

Simon. Simon. Just Simon. English. Manchester? Guns. Hunter. Big guns. Fucked up nose. Fucked up everything. Scars. One on ribs. Butcher? Smells like blood. Hate him. Animal. Lots of tattoos. Took me as a pet for Johnny. Mad man. Bad man. 

Me. Not Bonnie. Something else. Someone else. Bartender. How old am I? Need haircut. 

Miss my jumper. 

Miss my mum. 

Miss ice cream. 

Had an interview before I was taken. What day? Missing since… June. June. Summer. Hot. Did they ever call back? Needed better job. Wonder if they’re looking for me. Is anyone looking for me? Always called mum on Sundays. 

Does her phone ring now that I’m gone?

No. Not gone. Not yet. Not ever. 

I hope her phone rings.

Scribbles muddle the margins between fractured words and thoughts. You can conjure nothing more than empty, uneven eyes and dried flies lining burnt window sills. What creativity lingers in the fringes of your mind stays in the mess of grey matter; never something to brand the off white paper in your hands. Masterpieces cannot be created in a cage. You save what little energy you have for dreaming. You dream of a day when your teeth grow long enough they don’t whittle down to sand when you try to sharpen them. 

“Bonnie?” 

Johnny moves quietly. Or, your ears are growing old. Too busy trying to recall sounds you used to love; unable to make sense of the cacophony that constantly surrounds you in this tomb. He’s already eye level with you by the time you look up. Crouched next to your plushy chair, a wide hand sits on the armrest that props your elbow. He’s got his journal in hand, and you are very aware of the way he curiously eyes your own. You slam it shut with the pencil between the pages before setting it aside. 

His eyes follow your hands with question, but he says nothing as he turns his journal for you to see. Truly, Johnny has a talent you’ve rarely seen others show off. Meticulously crafted sketches brand the paper, etching your likeness in grey graphite. He captures every curve of your body as you lean in the recliner, eyes narrow with concentration. You’re drawn with a smile on your face, but those muscles in your cheeks have been dormant for so long you’re not sure you could conjure the expression if you tried. 

“That looks lovely,” you compliment. It’s not a lie, but it rolls off of your tongue like it is. 

“You’re lovely,” he fires back. Playful. Light. 

There it is again. That look. Heavy lids threaten to smother the blue hue of his eyes — heavy with a concupiscence so thick it’s palpable in the air that separates you from him. You hope one day it solidifies — turns into some protective barrier — but it never will. 

It starts like it always does. The slicing of the threshold, brittle like eggshells and bones. You don’t think about it as he presses his lips to yours. You keep your mind full of other thoughts because if it’s empty, there’s more room for worse things. Bitter things. A man can only stare at a meal for so long before his hunger consumes him. You are liquid. A flowing being molding into the shape of his body as his torso pinches your legs against the recliner. It’s easier to give in. Hurts less. Angers Simon less. Even with that monster gone you behave because the walls have eyes. Dark brown irises that do nothing but stare and smirk. 

“Ow!”

But you still have your limits, and your body aches more often than it is numb these days, and Johnny’s hands haven’t grown any softer. He paws at you with claws that can’t retract and you wince. Your breasts are sore from weeks — no, months — of abuse. They’re silent wounds that will not heal and always, always scream. 

Then, it stops. 

Johnny’s hands retract from your body at the same time as his lips do, leaving you breathlessly dumbfounded. Blinking away the confusion, your eyes settle on Johnny who retreats back to sitting on his haunches. Blue eyes shimmer in the late summer sun as he shifts. For once, you are the one above him instead of the other way around. He looks up at you as if you’re an angel—

—as if he’s begging for forgiveness. 

“Did Ah hurt you?” he asks. 

“Uh… a-a little bit,” you admit stiffly. 

“A’m sorry.” 

There’s something in his eyes that unsettle you. You think back to that night when his body thrashed and squirmed next to you on the bed, fear reverberating through the mattress. Panicked and screaming; unable to rip himself from some nightmare. How he screamed about wanting to go home. Your stomach twists at the very thought, and it only gets worse when you realize that — for once — he looks more human than mutt. 

“It’s okay. I… I know you didn’t mean it,” you whisper. 

“Never. Ah would never hurt you,” he concurs. A breadth of stillness freezes the room and for the longest time you hear nothing but the chatter of birds. Johnny reaches for you with a singular hand, and rests it on top of your leg, heavy and warm. “Bonnie, are ye afraid of me?” 

Vocal chords turning to stone, your throat seizes as you attempt to answer. “No,” you lie. Cautious eyes flicker to the walls around you like they’ll crumble at any moment. Something slices through the prostration in your chest, and a strange cogitation flickers in the back of your mind. It’s as strong as it is terrifying, but you find your body executing it before you’re able to stop it. “But… Simon does. He terrifies me.” 

Johnny’s mouth fills with well meaning mirth. “He’s scary alright, but he won’t hurt ye. Simon’s not like that.” 

“I’m still worried he might,” you admit. A hesitant hand reaches out and rests over Johnny’s. The smile on his face quickly melts away into surprise as he stares up at you with parted lips. “But you wouldn’t let that happen. Right?” 

“Never.” His response is quick. Sharp and eager as he leans closer. His other hand comes up to rest upon yours, sandwiching you into a small embrace. “Cannae ever let anythin’ bad happen to ye.” 

Something shudders in your chest. Your diaphragm, maybe. It quivers and quakes as if you hold a bird’s nest within yourself. Foreign words begin to scratch at the back of your tongue, tickling your throat. You know well enough to bite them back, but as you stare at Johnny’s smile — lips pulled wide — someone stronger chokes the words out for you. 

“You’re so good to me, Johnny,” you whisper, voice whiny as you scoot forward in the recliner. Slipping your hand out of his grasp, your palms instead reach up to cup his face. His smile fades into parted lips and bated breath as your thumbs rub against abrasive stubble. You don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes dilate so wide before. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?” 

“Ah try tae be,” he swallows. 

“I know you do.” 

It takes an eternity for your lips to meet his. Just when you think you’ve halved the distance, it only grows, and you’re unsure if it’s because of the scream of betrayal in your chest, or something worse. He groans when your bodies finally reunite, and you play into the fantasy his sick brain is infested with. Precious Bonnie. So supple and pliant in his hands. If only he knew you were this soft because muscles cannot properly tense around broken bones. 

You pull Johnny onto the recliner by his collar, but you ensure you’re the one to land on top. Legs spreading wide to accommodate his thighs, your knees squish into the sides of the arm rests, sending journals and pencils flying to the ground. When he paws at your chest again, you bite back the urge to push him away. To slice your nails through the back of his hand. Fingers pressing into tender flesh, he stares up at you like he’s finally able to feel the heart beating beneath his palms. 

“You wanna fuck me?” Those words sting on the way out, but you attempt to distract yourself from the pain as you grind down onto Johnny’s lap. He nods, hips pathetically bucking up. “Yeah? Ask me, then.” 

Thick brows pinch together as he parts his lips. It’s as if his request is on the tip of his tongue, but his hands have a mind of their own. Wandering. Grabbing. Pinching. 

“No,” you chastise. “Use your words, Johnny.” 

“Please. Please, Bonnie.” It’s pathetic. He says the words like he’s speaking to Simon. 

“Good boy,” you coo. “Gentle now. Gentle, Johnny.” 

He fumbles with the fly of his jeans, all too eager. His cock hardly has time to spring free before he’s already making a mess. Precum drips everywhere, staining the band of your shorts as his reddened tip slaps against you. Too worried about keeping your power, you don’t bother to properly remove your clothes. Instead, you move the gusset of your shorts and panties to the side before sinking down onto him. This has to be quick. You promise yourself it will be. 

All the while, you remind Johnny to be gentle, gentle, gentle.

Even when you’re in control, it still hurts. There’s that stretch and sting as you split yourself open, but you take it slow. Steady. Unlike Johnny, you allow yourself to adjust. He’s panting beneath you by the time you fully take him. You feel so full of rot it upsets your stomach, but you try to mask your trembling with a gentle rock of your hips. His moan is cacophonous, and your fingers itch to dig into his throat and render his vocal chords useless, but you relent. 

Always, always relenting. 

There is an intense appetency for blood that itches in the back of your mind. Even as you fake your moans and rock your hips, you want to take your hands and dig. Fingers piercing through flesh, cutting through bone; you wouldn’t stop until Johnny’s heart is in the palm of your hands. Still beating. Still fresh. You could squeeze it for an eternity and it still would only be a fraction of the pain you’ve been made to endure. 

You hate him. You hate him like a mother hates her daughter. Like how eyes hate mirrors. How the sun hates flesh. 

“Johnny?” you choke out. “Do you love me?” 

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, mouth stuck open as he stares up at you. “Aye. So much, Bonnie.” 

“Yeah? So you’d do anything for me?” you challenge. You try not to wince as he butts up against your cervix, but you know you can’t afford to stop. 

“Aye.”

“Anything I ask?”

“Anythin’ ye ask. Fuck, Bonnie A’m-” 

“I love you, Johnny.” It’s acid. Pure bile on your tongue. You nearly choke on the words, but you repeat them again. “I love you so much.”  

You hide your face in the crook of his neck when he comes. Thick fingers dig into your hips as you hold still, allowing him to spill his seed inside of you like he always does. His pulse throbs against your lips and you restrain the urge to take the artery into your maw and bite down. There’s nothing in your mouth but pathetic, brittle teeth. You don’t even think you could break through his skin. Still, you dream of it. Running the tips of your fingers along Johnny’s jaw, you yearn for a day when you have the weapons and tools to free yourself. It’s a long, agonizing process. One you’re not sure you have the patience for. 

And so, when you lean back to look at him, you stare at his lips. Soak up the way the delicate skin parts as he smiles up at you, allowing you to catch sight of his teeth. You might not have sharp canines, but he does. You know first hand the way they can dig into your lip and draw blood from skin. Fingers twitching, you yearn to pull the canines from his mouth, to wield them for yourself, but you know you’re not strong enough. 

But maybe, someday, you can be the guiding hand. Point a finger and say go fetch and have Simon’s head delivered to you. That day is too far over the horizon for you to view, but the vision of it is so clear in your mind that it’s enough for now. Right now, you’ve taken the first step.

“Good boy,” you croon as you thumb over his bottom lip. “Good boy, Johnny.” 

You’ll just have to keep walking.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your Alpha in the King's Dungeon

A/N: This was someone's request, but I lost the request, so I'm sorry but here it is!

(Alpha) Riordan x GN Omega Reader

General Summary: You've been summoned to a magical world to soothe beast they call Alpha.

Word count: 6.5K

TW: cozy alpha/omega dynamic, kidnapping to another world, gentle alpha, mention of war and a small bit of violence, alpha/omega smut, nesting, knotting, and biting

You woke, your back cold. This wasn't you bed. You smelled something burning, maybe sage or thyme. It smelled herbal. 

“Open your eyes, pretty, I know you're awake,” a nasally voice said. 

Your eyes blinked open, and you squinted at the light. Sitting up, you found yourself in a well-lit room. It looked like a sort of lab with glass vessels filled with brightly colored liquids. Sunlight poured in the large windows. The glass was thick and uneven, making the world outside blurry. It had to be old and crudely cast to look like that. 

“Welcome to my world, little omega,” the voice said. 

You turned to see an old man in a purple robe, looking at you expectantly. He was rather short but had oddly long fingers. His face was gnarled with wrinkles, and his teeth were jagged and yellow as if they'd been broken. 

“Omega?” you murmured, trying to make sense of the place. 

You'd gone to bed as you did every night, yet you woke up here. Where was here? 

“Where am I?” You asked. 

“I'm sure you have many questions,” he chuckled, “but I don't care to answer them. You may not live long enough for it to matter, and I'm short on time.”

“What?” You gasped, instinctively hopping up, but your body was not yours. 

The old man waved a gnarled claw, and you rose off the stone slab where he’d laid you and drifted behind him through a heavy wooden door. 

“Hey, where the fuck am I? Who are you?” You snapped at him, wriggling, desperate to escape. 

It was no use; whatever…magic he'd used on you kept you bobbing aloft just behind him. As he descended steep stone steps, he mumbled to himself. 

“I'm sure I've gotten the signature right this time,’ he muttered. “The last specimen’s pheromones were muddled. Theirs is much more pure. It has to work.” 

He stopped at a heavy iron door with a guard beside it holding a pike. 

“Help me! This guy is kidnapping me!” you shouted to him.

The guard's eyes slid to you for a moment, and you detected the slightest bit of pity. 

“Open the damn door!” The old man snarled. “The king will have all our heads if this doesn't work!” 

The guard gave you another somber glance before finding a ring of keys on his waist and unlocking the door. 

You did not want to go into the dark, smelly place he was taking you, but you floated like a feather on the wind right after him. 

Around you, large shadows loomed behind thick bars. Red eyes peered at you from the gloom. It was quiet at first but then…whatever they were started beating at their cages, howling like beasts. You could only see flashes of sharp teeth and claws. Fear silenced you and you only let out a miserable whimper. 

“Ah, here we are,” he said, stopping at one cell. 

The creature inside roared his outrage at the sound of the old man’s voice. 

There was the sickening snap of wood, and what must have been a bunk came flying at the bars. 

“Now, now, Riordan,” he clucked. “I have a new toy for you to play with. Don't rip this one to bits this time, hmm? If this works, you'll see sunlight soon.” 

The old man, swifter than he looked, opened the gate and tossed you inside. You landed in a pile on the floor and heard the ominous click of the metal lock behind you. 

You crab-walked back towards the gate, terrified of what creature he’d trapped you with. Were you to be food? He'd stolen you from your bed just to feed this…thing?

In the dark, you could only see red eyes, glaring at you, set in a massive form. It must have been eight feet tall and two times the width of a linebacker. 

“Please, please,” you whimpered. “Don't eat me.” 

The creature parted its lips and you could make out massive, sharp teeth. Instead of pouncing on you, it lifted its nose, sniffing the air. 

Staring at it, petrified with fear and confusion, you watched its red eyes dim to a soft glowing green…like sunlight filtering through leaves in spring. They were…pretty. 

The creature took a heavy step forward, his wide feet emitting a deep thud. He seemed interested in you. 

“H-hey,” you stammered. “That's a good…whatever you are…I'm a friend, not food.” 

His eyes narrowed on you, and a large hand emerged from the shadows. You held your breath, ready to be torn apart, but he only patted your head, as if you were a kitten. 

“Fascinating!” The old man said. 

At his voice, the creature growled, then let out a loud roar that sounded more desperate than angry. You shrieked and jumped out of his way as he rushed the door, throwing his shoulder against the bars. A blue light flashed in front of you, and the creature flew back into the far wall, collapsing into a pile with a heavy thunk. 

“I think it's worked!” The old man muttered. “He hasn't torn the arms off of the specimen. Further observations are necessary, but I must report this to the King!” 

“Hey!” You shouted as he scurried away, careful not to touch the bars. “You can't leave me here!”

The old man ignored you, and with a slam, the heavy metal door swung shut behind him. 

Around you, other creatures growled in the darkness, pacing the length of their enclosures. Unsure what to do, you tiptoed towards the shadowy figure slumped against the far wall. 

“You okay, big guy?” You asked. “He didn't kill you, did he?” 

Even though the creature was terrifying, you felt for him. No wonder he was in a bad mood being locked up in a dark, smelly cage.  

He let out a low groan, and you extended a hand, brushing his hair. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you could see he looked more human than monster. His teeth were far too large to be truly human, and the features of his face were too rugged, with harsh lines and a pronounced brow. Still, he wasn't ugly. He had an attractive cut to his jaw, and his hair, though it needed a brushing, was soft and maybe blond. It was hard to tell in the dark. 

A heavy hand grabbed your wrist, and you screamed, trying to yank your arm back. It was no use; he was too strong. Was this when he ripped your arm off? You braced for pain, but he only lifted his head and sniffed the inside of your wrist. 

“You…smell…amazing,” he said. 

His voice was low and rough, as if he hadn't used it in a long time. His eyes opened, and he looked up at you. They still glowed, but the red hadn't returned. 

“Y-you can talk?” You gasped. 

He let out a chuff devoid of humor. 

“I was human…once,” he said. “I can remember now. I used to talk a lot.” 

“If you're not human, what are you?” You asked. 

“An experiment,” he growled, squeezing your wrist. 

You whimpered, and he looked up at your hand, suddenly letting it go. He looked slightly ashamed. 

“I'm sorry, I,” he muttered. “I'm nothing but a monster now.” 

“Did that old man do this to you?” You asked. “Who is he?” 

He tipped his head back against the stone wall behind him. 

“The King's chief sorcerer,” he said. “He took us all from the army, injected us with Goddess know what, and we became like this.” 

He clutched his head. 

“I don't know how long it's been,” he moaned. “For so long, I could only see red, and then you came along.” 

His eyes focused on you. 

“I'm just a normal person,” you said. “I’m not sure what I could have done.” 

He leaned forward, burying his face in your chest. 

“Oh!” You squeaked. 

“Your scent,” he murmured. “the world becomes clear when I’m near you. You chase the red away.” 

His big arms circled you, and he pulled you into his lap, tucking his nose behind your ear. You felt the heat of his breath grazing your skin and shivered in his arms.  

“I like you here,” he murmured. “Well, not here…but with me.” 

“O-Oh,” you stammered. “Well, just your luck then, huh? Seems I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.” 

He let out another dry chuff. It was as if he'd forgotten how to laugh, but he was trying to remember. 

“Where are we?” You asked. “I went to bed somewhere else.” 

He hummed, thinking as he ran a heavy mitt over your head. 

“We must be in the South, near the Capital,” he said. 

“But where?” You asked. “I'm from Earth…(Y/C)? Heard of it?” 

He shook his head. 

“No, this is Swarin,” he said. “I've never heard of Earth or…(Y/C). Is it across the sea? Only pirates go that far.” 

“I don't think so,” you said. “The old asshole called me Omega. Do you know what that means?” 

At that, he nodded. 

“I don't really understand all the alchemy behind it,” he said in a low grumble. “But I'm an Alpha. A monster. And you…are soft and delicate, an Omega. We…are compatible…I think.” 

“Compatible?” you hummed. 

“The sorcerer has been looking for Omegas. There aren't any in Swarin. He's brought down samples…but they never did…what you do.” 

“What happened to them all? The samples?” You whispered. 

He let out a low groan. 

“I don't know, but I can guess,” he said. “I only remember screams…and blood.” 

His deep voice cracked. 

“What I did…” he sniffled. “What have I become? Why won't they destroy me?” 

He pressed you to him like a teddy bear, and you felt moisture on your neck where he'd tucked his head. 

Your heart raced, but you reached up and rubbed his cheek. 

“It's….it's okay,” you said. “That wasn't you. The old man, the sorcerer, did this…you have no control. When I first saw you, you were out of your mind.” 

“I would have killed you,” he sobbed. 

You patted his head. 

“But you didn't,” you said. “I think …I hope it's okay now.” 

You both looked up as you heard the rusty squeak of the metal door open. 

“This way, your Radiance,” you heard the sorcerer say. 

“This better be good, Elias,” another voice grumbled. “God, this place smells like rotting meat.” 

“Don't mind that it's the beasts. They tear apart rats for fun. Come, come. This way,” he replied. 

A man with a crown appeared next to the sorcerer in front of the cell. He wasn't quite so old but had a white beard and a regal countenance. 

“Look, your Radiance,” he said. “See how the beast is soothed? He clutches the specimen like a pet.” 

The king looked at the two of you with interest. 

“And you have a source for these…Omegas?” He asked. 

“Yes, your Radiance!” He said, clicking his long nails together with delight. “I've found a world through the ether filled with Omegas. This is only the first. I can bring many here. Once we pair the Alphas, they will become useful.” 

“They’d better be,” the King snarled, obviously annoyed. “This whole project has been a mess from the start. You promised me super soldiers, and what I’ve gotten is uncontrollable monsters. Can the thing speak?” 

You frowned at his description of Riordan as a “thing." He was monstrous, yes, but he had been human once- he still had a soul. 

“Riordan,” the sorcerer snapped. “Greet your king!” 

Riordan let out a low growl that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. 

The King looked unimpressed. 

“If you don’t cooperate, I will take your new pet from you,” Elias hissed. “You want to keep them, don’t you? If you are good, you will not be separated. You’ll have good food and sunlight. You’ll leave this dungeon, but you must speak like a man, not a beast.” 

Riordan bared his teeth, but you patted his hand. 

“Speak to him, Riordan,” you whispered. “It’s a step forward. You’re not alone now. We’ll figure this out together.” 

His jade eyes flicked to you and then back up to the King. 

“Your- Your Highness…apologies,” he ground out. 

The King smiled and patted Elias on the back. 

“Excellent work,” he said. “Secure the beast and bring him to our war camp for a demonstration in the morning.” 

He looked a little sickly. 

“I can’t spend another moment in this filth,” he grumbled, turning on his heels and marching out of the door.

The sorcerer looked at the two of you hungrily. 

“You heard the King,” he said. “Time to return to the surface. Guards! Bring the collars!” 

A handful of guards appeared holding two metal collars. One big and one small. 

“Go in there and apply them!” He told them, and they all looked horrified at one another. No one moved. 

“Go in now,” he snapped, clapping. “you're going to comply, aren't you, Riordan? Because you want to keep the Omega?” 

Riordan narrowed his eyes, but you squeezed his hand. 

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “Maybe they'll give us some real food.” 

You tried to sound positive. Riordan looked at you, then lowered his head. 

“I will comply,” he said. 

The guards slowly entered the cell, the one holding the collars first. 

“Don't mind the collars,” the sorcerer told you. “They are a good thing. They keep you tied together with an invisible tether so your enemies can't separate you on the battle field.” 

“What else do they do?” You asked, not believing the sorcerer for a moment. 

“They also have the same energy as the bars,” he said. “If either of you misbehave, you can be punished.” 

You looked warily at the soldier holding your collar, but you reasoned that the collar may be easier to escape than the dungeon, so you remained still as he snapped it around your neck. The cold metal was uncomfortable but could be tolerated. 

The soldiers were eager to get out of Riordan's way as he rose, stepping heavily towards the gate with you in his arms. 

The sorcerer looked pleased. 

“Now to the baths,” he said. “You can't perform for the King stinking like you do.” 

Riordan gave you an uncertain look, and you nodded just slightly. 

“It's okay,” you whispered. “Won't a bath be nice?” 

You watched his jaw twitch, but he followed silently behind Elias as he led you past the thick iron door. The baths were across the building you were in. Outside of the dungeon, it was quite nice, with potted plants and paintings of flowering meadows decorating the stone walls. Sun filtered in through leaded glass windows, giving you a glimpse at the land you’d been summoned to. From what you could see, there were more stone buildings with people going about their days. 

“You have thirty minutes,” a guard barked sharply, drawing your attention back to the task at hand. 

He opened a door, and steam scented like lavender drifted out. The room was tiled with a blue and white motif, with a large blue pool in the center. Riordan set you down, attempting to lift your shirt from your back.

“Hey! I can do that!” you snapped. 

His eyes flashed, but not red, a rich gold, and he looked contrite.

“I can’t help it, Omega. My instincts tell me to tend to you.” 

You huffed. You weren’t sure what to make of this dynamic, but Riordan seemed bent on caring for you. If it kept the red away, you figured you ought to allow it. 

“Fine! Go on, but ask next time.” 

You eyed him carefully. 

“I’m not used to your size.” 

A smirk grew on his lips, and a deep noise rumbled in his chest. It sounded like…a happy cat, but deeper. More of a rumble, like thunder from far away. 

“Are you purring?” you ventured. 

“I think it is natural to calm my Omega…the wizard told me many things I didn’t understand until now.”

He tugged your shirt from you, then your pants, and paused, his fingers skimming the underwear you wore. Though you weren’t used to being naked in front of a stranger, you couldn’t bathe in your underwear. You leveled him with a stern stare.  

“Continue, but don’t get any bright ideas.” 

He nodded, slipping the small garments off of you. When you were ready, he dipped you in the hot water, following close behind when he’d removed his own clothes. The second he got settled in the water, he scooped you into his lap and started to scrub you. 

“What are you doing now?” you rasped. 

Underneath you, you could feel all of his power; the massive muscles, hard planes against your soft skin, and something…large poking you in the back. 

“You smell…like strange things. I will wash you, then I will scent you.”

You figured that if he had a better-than-average sense of smell, he would probably be able to smell the cheap soap you used, which was filled with chemicals. 

“What does ‘scent you’ mean?” you asked as he lifted your arm. 

As the smell of rot from the dungeon washed away, you were suddenly aware of a sweet cinnamony smell coming from Riordan. 

“I need to mark my Omega, so others know you’re mine,” he said, seeming proud that he could recall such facts. “It will not hurt.” 

“Oh…Okay…” 

He was very methodical, making sure every inch of skin was cleaned. When he was satisfied you were spotless, his nose dipped to the crook of your neck, and he purred. 

“You smell so good, Omega,” he breathed into your skin. 

The thick shaft pressed against your body thickened and hardened, drawing breath from your lungs. 

“We need to clean you,” you stammered, swirling around to straddle him. 

His cock patted your most sensitive spot, and it took some effort on your part not to look down. He watched you with wide eyes as you carefully scrubbed his hair with the lavender-smelling soap sitting on the rim of the tub. When you rinsed it away, you found he had pretty wheat-colored hair. Scraping it back with your fingers, he looked a bit more tidy, though he needed a trim. He didn’t wait even a minute after you were done helping him scrub the years of dungeon nastiness away, snuggling into your neck, running the spot just under his ear down your arms. 

You yelped, surprised at his sudden enthusiasm. 

“Riordan!” you squealed, and he looked up, his cheeks ruddy. 

“I have to rub my scent glands on you,” he informed you matter-of-factly before diving back in.

You tried to ignore the heat that pooled in your stomach as his cinnamon scent filled your lungs. Your breath drew short, and every sensitive spot on your body perked up under his touch. You weren’t sure if you were compatible with the giant, but your body certainly believed you were. As he rubbed himself against you, his cock gingerly brushed your stomach. Closing your eyes, you desperately tried to think about anything but sex. 

Riordan’s head rose suddenly, cocked to the side. 

“The guard is back,” he muttered. 

A moment later said guard appeared in the door, grimacing. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going at it in the bath, fucking beasts.” 

“W-we weren’t-” you started to say, but your words were cut off by a growl. 

“Don’t shout at my mate,” Riordan grumbled as he scooped you out of the water. Standing at his full height, looking down on the guard you saw the annoying intruder’s eyes widen, and he took an instinctive step back. Clearing his throat, he waved the pile of clothes he held at him. 

“Come on,” he tried to assert, his voice cracking. “The King is waiting.” 

You quickly dressed in the light cotton pants and loose shirt he’d provided, having to pause for a moment so Riordan could refresh his scent on the new items. 

Though you could walk, you found your legs swinging in the air as your Alpha tucked you in the crook of his arm. 

“Where are we going?” you whispered to him as the guard led you out of the building. 

“We are at war…or we were. To a war camp, I assume.” 

Around you, a pleasant, medieval village buzzed with activity. As you passed, people gaped at Riordan’s size. He was at least a foot and a half taller than the tallest among them. Your eyes danced around the archaic scene with wonder. Where had this wizard spirited you off to? 

Ahead of you, a shrill grinding noise drew your attention. With five guards on each size manning lever handles the massive gate of the city opened to a sprawling wilderness. An overgrown cobblestone road cut through the forested hills, flowers blooming through the cracks in the stones. Dappled sunlight spotted the forest floor, lighting falling leaves like sparkling emeralds. In Riordan’s arms you felt him suck in a heavy breath. 

“Nice to breathe fresh air, huh?” you asked and he smiled. 

Despite the collars, this was far preferable to the stinking dungeon. Your body shook with the pleased purr emanate from his chest. Hours passed, marching along the winding trail. You could only assume it was early spring by the crisp, cool air and the early blooming daffodils growing from every spot of sun. 

As you turned a corner Riordan grunted and you glanced up to see him frowning. 

“What is it?” you whispered. 

“I can smell the camp from here. It’s much closer than it used to be…not a good sign.” 

You blinked at him. 

“Do you think the war has been going on for all the years you’ve been captive?” 

He nodded, jaw ticking, as he held you close.  

“I smell blood and rotting flesh.” 

You swallowed hard, sniffing the air. Your scene of smell was not any better than it had been and all that you caught was Riordan’s cinnomin and cardamom musk. The Omega emerging inside of you had you cuddling your head into his chest. It was hard to believe you were some magical creature, designed to compliment this massive beast, but your body and instincts were already caught up. 

His purr soothed your anxiety and you wanted to roll around in his scent. You wouldn’t have liked them under any circumstances, but the longer you bonded with Riordan the more bloodthirsty thoughts about his captors filled your mind. 

Freedom, your Omega crooned, Freedom to mate, to nest, to rear his pups. 

Before you could catch yourself, you were fisting his shirt, the urge to rearrange it to your liking driving your fingers. 

“Soon, Omega,” he purred. “Soon you can make your nest.” 

The impatient, emerging Omega huffed at him. He chuckled, allowing himself a moment of amusement before his attention returned to the road ahead. The sounds of metal clanging and shouting soldiers signalled your arrival. 

The camp was an ugly, dirty place. Smokey bonfires smothered your breaths and soldiers, some clearly injured, covered in blood scuttled around. Your guard guided the two of you through the hastily erected tents. Some were merely a bit of leather stretched between some odd poles. The one you stopped at was the finest of them all, made with lengths of canvas and gold and silver threads. 

“Gold threads at a war camp? A waste,” Riordan scoffed quietly, following your eyes. “Money would be better spent on bandages and rations. The enemy doesn’t care for such indulgences.” 

You blinked up at him. 

“You know a lot about war?” 

His eyes narrowed as he thought. 

“I believe I ranked captain when I was taken.” 

“Wait here,” the guard ordered before he entered the tent. A moment later the king emerged surrounded by his entourage. 

He smiled up at the both of you, not a friendly smile. It was calculating and cool. 

“Enjoy the walk, creature?” he asked, his lips carrying a smirk. “Nice to be out in the sun again, isn’t it?” 

You felt the growl building in your Alpha’s chest and patted him to calm him. He glanced down at you and you flicked your head just slightly to tell him not to fight this. Instead, he gave the King a half bow, careful not to jostle you. 

Pleased, the King smacked his hands together. 

“Now is the time to work for your supper,” he announced. “You’ll be accompanying a regiment to flank the enemy in the hills. If you make it back and do as your told, there will be food for your return.” 

“We will not be fed now?” you asked. “He will need energy to fight your enemy.” 

The King scowled at you and one of his guards slammed his spear into the dirt.

“Learn to show your king proper respect,” he snarled. 

You felt Riordan’s arm tighten around you, but he gritted out an apology. 

“Please excuse my Omega. They are not used to our ways.” 

He set you down, patting your head. 

“Stay here where it’s safe. I’ll be back soon.” 

The King laughed outloud. 

“Oh no, your little Omega will be going with you. I’ll have no mishaps if you go rogue.” 

At that Riordan growled. 

“It’s too dangerous. They are not a soldier!” 

This time the guard rubbed a strange crystal he had around his neck and Riordan spasmed as his collar shocked him. 

“Silence creature, you’ll do as your King wills!” 

You tugged on his shirt, asking to be picked back up. King’s edict or no, you didn’t want to leave Riordan’s side. He gave you a wary glance before he scooped you back up, panting from the shock. 

“Aye, your majesty,” he finally said on a heavy breath. 

The King gave Riordan a haughty look, high on the idea that this creature served him, only. 

“Escort them to the battlefield!” he announced before returning to the comfort of his tent. 

The soldiers around you looked wary, be it from Riordan’s great size or what lay ahead, you couldn’t tell. However, this time you smelled your destination long before you arrived. The scent of death was on the wind. 

As you drew closer, the scent wound around the sound of screaming and metal clanging. In either realm, you’d never seen a battle before and it was nothing like the movies. All of the parts were there, dead bodies, swords, shields, sweating soldiers, but it was all so much more. At the back, some captain shouted orders, but nothing about this seemed orderly. The soldiers had long broken whatever formation they had been in and it was clear the enemy had them pressed. 

“This is no good. The King will be overtaken by nightfall,” Riordan whispered to you. 

The captain seemed acutely aware of this fact, a bit of hope in his expression when Riordan appeared. 

“Into the fray beast!” he shouted. “Drive them back or we’ll all be skewered!” 

Needing his hands, Riordan reluctantly put you down. 

“Stay close, Omega,” he murmured, his large jaw setting. 

Your heart pattered in your chest, holding on the the back of his shirt as he waded into the bloody mess. Enemies flew at him swords raised, but he threw them back with little more than a wave of his arm. You tried to stifle your screams, lest he be distracted, shuffling behind him. The enemy was thick, bearing down on the two of you from seeming every direction. 

You jerked a dagger loose from one of the bodies you past, swinging it at a soldier who’d gotten too close. 

The enemy’s face was hidden by silver armor carrying a massive sword. A desperate scream emerged from your chest as he bore down on you with the sharp end of the blade. Riordan turned to come to your rescue, but it was too late. The sword made contact with the collar around your neck, knocking you sideways. Riordan roared, grabbing the soldier and ripping his sword arm off. You gasped in the bloody mud of the battlefield, prepared to meet you maker. Only, you didn’t die…in fact, you weren’t hurt at all. The collar around your neck slipped off you, sliced clean in half. 

Free, you sat up, eyes wide with confusion. Riordan, however, was quick and sharp, prying the sword from the disembodied arm’s grasp. 

“Elven metal,” he gasped, green eyes glowing. 

Before you could question him, you’d been tossed over his shoulder and he made a B-line to the forest’s edge. In the chaos, your guards hadn’t even noticed, busy fighting back the enemy the best they good. As soon as you were safely past the treeline, he turned the sword, which looked like little more than a cooking knife in his hand, to his own neck. The collar popped off with little trouble and Riordan massaged the sore skin where he’d been burned. 

“What now?” you gasped, still eyeing the battle behind you with concern. 

“Now we run,” he announced. 

Before you could respond, he picked you back up and sprinted into the forest. 

“Where are we going?” you asked as trees flew by. 

“The mountains, it ought to be safe there.” 

There was little you could do but hold on tight and peek over his shoulder to be sure you weren’t followed. You must have dozed off, because you woke in a strange place…on a bed. The sheets were itchy wool, but warm enough. In fact, you were quite warm. Blinking you looked around. A cheery fire roared in a stone fireplace and the scent of the stew boiling in a pot filled your lungs. You found yourself in a little cabin. There was only one room, but it came furnished with the bed you were on, a rocking chair, and a small table with a log bench. 

“Riordan?” you called, though you were the only person in the room. 

A few moments later the door opened. You could see it was snowing outside and a puff of icy air hit your face. 

Your alpha brushed snow off his shoulders before he smiled at you. 

“You slept a long time Omega,” he chuckled, handing you a pile of what looked like linens. 

“What’s this?” you asked. “Where are we?” 

“In the mountains.” 

You looked down at the pile he’d set on your lap. 

“What are these?’ 

“Some blankets for your nest. They’re not very nice, but I’ll get you better ones soon.” 

“Where did they come from?” 

“The orc village next door. After I dropped you off here, I went looking for food and stumbled on some very surprised orcs.

They have no great love of humans, so when I explained our situation, they asked if I would join their patrol in exchange for some supplies to get us started. With my size, they see me as one of their own, I suspect.” 

“They don’t mind we’re staying in this cabin?” 

He shook his head. 

“It’s a patrol cabin, we’d be staying in it anyway. We can stay as long as we like, or move into the village if we want.” 

He grinned, pleased he could provide for you. Your Omega side purred in your head and without thinking you started organizing the furs and blankets to form a proper nest. It came instinctively to you, where everything ought to go for maximum comfort. While you were busy with that, Riordan shuffled about the cabin, straightening things and finally spooning two bowls of stew for you. 

“C’mon Omega,” he said, setting your soup on the table. “You can fuss more with your nest after dinner.” 

"Your eyes are still green? I thought you'd go red without me."

His eyebrows jumped as he considered that thought.

"I think with your scent all over me, it held it off. Perhaps it will work even better when I've given you my bite."

Your cheeks warmed at the prospect of his teeth on your neck.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the warm food filled your stomach. After all you’d been through, you felt safe. The cabin was already filled with Riordan’s comforting scent. Belly full and your nest on it’s way to a proper state, your Omega mind turned it’s attention to other matters. Your eyes drifted over Riordan’s strong shoulders, down to his thick hands. You’d always liked hands and his long strong fingers, lined with stiff veins sent heat pooling in your core. 

He looked up from his soup suddenly, sniffing the air and giving you a wicked smile. 

“Are you ready for me, Omega?” he asked and you didn’t have to wonder what he meant. 

Your body already knew. Purring, he abandoned his meal and gently set you in your nest, examining your features closely. Your cheeks burned under his careful inspection and some feral part of you wanted to tear off his clothes. 

His green eyes flashed gold and a smug smirk spread across his lips. 

“Present yourself to me, Omega,” he purred. “Invite me into your nest.” 

Those words in his grumbly bass, flicked a switch inside you. Your logical self slipped into a fog of lust, your instincts telling you to undress. With trembling hands you tugged your shirt over your head, then slipped off your pants, finally your damp underwear went. As nature told you, you scooted to the back of your nest to make room for his big body, then tipped your head to expose your neck to him. 

He thundered his approval with a deep growl. 

“Sweet little Omega,” he hummed, crawling across the sheets to you like a hungry panther. Your first kiss was soft and sweet, but was soon followed by his greedy mouth, eating you up. Your tongues and teeth clashed. He seemed desperate to taste you, pushing you onto your back to pin you to the bed. 

“Let me out,” he growled, his husky demands making your spine arch. 

Your most secret place wept for him, smearing your desire across the blankets you’d arranged. You carefully unfastened his pants, his cock bobbing to greet you. Precum dribbled down the length of it and you gave it a curious stroke. It was so big, hot, and ready for you. Under your touch, he hissed in pleasure, egging you on. It seemed impossible that that would fit inside of you, but you wanted to try. You wanted to please him, seduce him, so he’d give you his bite. 

The concept echoed in the haze enveloping your mind. 

His bite? He’s going to bite me. 

You weren’t afraid. You knew in some primordial corner of your consciousness that his bite was good. It was exclusive. With his bite you were his and he was yours. 

When your gentle teasing became too much, he flipped you on your stomach, big hand fisting your hair. 

“You were made for me, omega, but I won’t force you,” he informed you. “Tell me now. Do you want my bite?” 

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering at the pressure on your scalp. 

“Be a good Omega and say the words,” he chided. 

“Yes, Alpha…I want your bite,” you whispered. 

“When we are like this, you will always call me Alpha.” 

“Yes, Alpha,” you moaned, body lighting up as you did what was natural to you and submitted. 

He let out a possessive chuff and you felt him nudge your legs further apart to accommodate his width. You were already plenty wet, but Riordan needed his scent in your most secret place, spreading his precum on your clenched channel.

His sticky fingers drifted over your body, covering you in his essence. You were his and he needed you to know it. 

“All of this is mine,” he hummed in somewhat of a trance, stuffing his fingers into your mouth so you could taste him. 

Unable to speak, you whimpered and sucked, the flavor of his spice on your tongue. While the fingers of one hand pushed into your mouth, the other tested your slick tunnel. Your muscles clenched at his intrusion, pleasure and need forcing you to push your hips back to seek your pleasure. 

“Good omega,” he purred, pushing another finger inside, “You’re going to take me just fine.” 

After thrusting and scissoring until your arms collapsed under you, your face pressed into the pillow and you ass sticking up, you felt the round head of his cock pushing against your core. 

“Relax. You can take it.” 

Tears slid down your cheeks as he entered you. He was large, extremely large, but your body performed some kind of Omega magic, stretching to accommodate him. He let out a gutteral grunt as he bottomed out inside. 

“So tight and hot.” 

He gave you one small thrust, to test you. 

“Do you like that?” 

“Yes, alpha!” you wailed into the pillow. 

You’d had sex before, but it was nothing like the sense of sheer domination you felt with his massive cock moving in you. Your pleasure was his, your body was his, your mind was his. 

“Show me your neck.” 

You tipped your head to bare your skin to him. He settled a hand on the spot where your throat and shoulder came together, holding you open for him as he slowly revved up his thrusts. With every ragged drive your mind unwraveled. 

Your alpha was fucking you. Your body gave him pleasure. Your cheeks burned with a sense of Omega accomplishment. You’d lived your whole life not knowing that this was what you were made for. Your heady mewls filled the little cabin as he rutted you. He curled his hands around your body, playing with your sex with his fingers. His touch drove you deeper and deeper into madness and you whimpered for more, pleading and begging into the pillow. 

He pushed you higher and higher until you were ready to implode. Seeing the time was right, Riordan bared his teeth, sinking them into your neck. It was impossible to tell if he timed it just right to bite as you came or if the bite caused you to cum, but it really didn’t matter. Suddenly you were in the stars, a sensation beyond an orgasm rolling through you along with the heat of your Alpha’s cum spilling into you. 

It felt good, and right, and explosive. You let out a yelp as colors sparkled in your vision and pressure built in your channel. 

“Wh-what?” you could only stammer. 

“Shhh, shhh, Omega, all is well. You’ve taken my knot.” 

He rocked the engorged rock into you as he stroked the most pleasurable spot with your fingers. The pressure turned into bliss and you melted into him as he licked the bite on your neck. 

“You did so good, taking my bite and my knot,” he purred, calming you. “You are a perfect Omega…so perfect.” 

He rolled on his side, smoothly taking you with him so as not to disturb the shaft linking the two of you. 

“I’m yours now?” you squeaked, thoughts still scattered. 

It was the only thing you could put together. 

“Yes, sweet one. You’re mine.” 

You let your body relax, his scent perfuming your nest. You were safe, marked, and all was as it should be. 

Bluesky -- Carrd -- Commissions -- Instagram -- Threads -- Subscribestar -- Art

[ghostedbunnie]

johnny fucks like a rockstar so how about an actual rockstar! johnny that you meet on your bday when your friends drag you to a bar where they are performing. johnny is a drummer and people are falling over themselves to catch his attention. johnny knows just how to tease, licking or biting his lips while playing and half way through their set he just loses his shirt with an excuse of being "too damn hot under these lights".

he catches sight of you enjoying yourself with your friends, mouthing along some of the catchy parts of their songs. he definitely sees how you look him over, your eyes following the drops of sweat running down his chest and arms. he throws you a wolfish grin so much teeth you should be scared but instead it makes you shiver with excitement but you quickly tell yourself that he probably didn't even look at you, there is a lot of people after all.

after their set you head to a bar for a refill and a hand lands on the bar next to you and a wave of grapefruit and peppermint gum fills your nose. "enjoy'd the show, eh, bonnie?" Johnny drawls when you turn around to face him.

he is close. too close for a stranger, caging you in between himself and the bar while shamelessly checking you out. "my eyes are up here." you don't hide your annoyance but Johnny is completely unfazed by it, it only makes him like you more when you show him your claws. he just can't help but imagine them clawing at his back while he has you pressed against a wall.

"I know, lass. Such a pretty pair too." He grins and you can't even think of a comeback fast enough before the bartender brings you your drink and Johnny tells him it's on him.

"it was nice to meet you but I really should go join my friends now. see you around?" you say hoping he gets the hint but instead he takes a step towards you with his hand on his chest he moans how heartless of you to leave him all alone when he came to talk to you. you start feeling bad for him plus he is annoyingly handsome which you already thought while seeing him on the stage but up close you are drawn into his blue eyes finding it really hard to say no.

Johnny can sense immediately when someone is getting hot and bothered and especially if it's because of him. with a sly smirk he brings his arm around your waist grinding his body into yours while whispering into your ear, "wanna get t' know me better? should i show you a little encore as a treat fer being so good t' me?" he ends the question with a soft nibble on your ear and every thought except for "yes please" leaves your head.

[superblysubpar]

#82 from the first smut prompt list SCREAMS enemies to lovers hate fucking with either steve or eddie. bonus points for rockstar!eddie or king!steve

Hello lovely! SO. This dialogue actually fit perfectly in a little thing I'm working on - not quite hate fucking, but I've got this little modern!eddie one shot that's almost done. He's not quite a rockstar, but he does play with his band still from time to time. Anyways, enjoy the 500ish word teaser of it and let me know what you all think! Ready for the oneshot? 👀

Pushed up against the brick, barely a block down from the bar, and he had his tongue licking into you. A hand on your hip that dared to rise higher and higher, rucking up your sweater until his nails could scratch your side, till his fingers could rest against your ribs, thumb playing with the lace he found. His other palm was flat against the cold stone, legs spread wide, taking up space and caging you in. 

His lips were sure, warm, tinged with the bourbon of his cocktail and the cigarette you interrupted. They moved over yours gracefully, silky and smooth, parting your mouth easily and swallowing your sigh. The sort of kiss that felt like your lips touched something electric, a quick prick of a shock straight down your spine until you felt warmth flow through your body, surging and shooting across your veins. Passion and confidence explode out of him as he keeps kissing you like his life depends on it, pulling your bottom lip between his and tugging, teeth biting into the soft skin a little mean. Underwear growing far more damp than you were expecting it to tonight, wet lace and cotton sticky with arousal. 

Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the smooth and hard pecs beneath the black cotton shirt, and you can’t help but wonder how many more tattoos like the ones that disappeared under his sleeves lie beneath it. He releases your lip with a pop, breathing heavily and giving you another quick peck as your fingers descend, scratching as they go and making him shiver. 

He noses at your cheek, lips ghosting over your jaw as you breathe heavily, chests bumping as you both catch your breaths. Your fingers reach the hem, tugging it free from where it’s tucked behind the handcuff belt buckle. His hand has dropped, toying with the edge of your skirt, fingers daring to skim the thigh beneath it and he swallows harshly as they trail higher. The skin beneath your tights has erupted in goosebumps and you shake your head, laughing breathlessly.

“I…what the fuck am I doing. I don’t like you. You’re not my type.”

He smirks, fingers landing where your body wanted him most, feeling how wet you are, the damp patch on the outside of your tights. He chuckles as your body arches against the brick at the press of one finger, then two, and the gentle circles he makes against your clit sending your stomach into knots even through the layers. 

A kiss pressed to the hinge of your jaw, nose dragging down your neck as his open mouth leaves a trail of hot breath and more goosebumps and your hips circle his wrist, pressing down onto his fingers with more weight. 

“Really? Because your pussy’s saying something different, sweetheart.”

Groaning at his crude comment, it quickly turns into a whine as his mouth latches onto your neck. His lips pressed gently in a kiss before his teeth tug at the skin between them, your fingers pull at his belt loops, needing more. 

Fuck, maybe Robin and Steve were right about this after all. 

[moonybug444]

cheater

tw: kinda dark, forced oral (male receiving), a lot of crying, lowk very traumatic, fast cat driving?? like but mean, connie threatens to kill you a couple times ———————————————————————- connie catches you cheating and decides to help you learn your lesson.

“no way,” you giggle. “told you i’ve got a boyfriend.”

the handsome man’s eyes are dilated from whatever the hell he took earlier as he stares down at your body caged between his arms.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he frowns, a look of faux confusion masking his face when he brings his hand above his eyes and slowly looks around. “i dunno pretty, i’m not seeing anybody around? sure he’s here?”

“oh m’sure,” you grin, looking behind him to see an angry connie stomping towards you. “he’s real mean too, you better go on before you get yourself into somethin’—”

“—don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” he grabs your soft hands and kisses right on your knuckles, you bat your falsies and coo up at him, rubbing your free hand on his chest. this’ll really piss connie off. “i’ll handle him if he comes, now you gonna dance with me or what?”

he’s grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in towards the dance floor. he takes one, two, three steps with you on his side before his body gets folded in half. face swelling and his consciousness getting lost.

connie stands before you, fist stinging and his nostrils flaring. “go get in the car—”

“what the fuck is your deal?!” you’re leaning down and checking up on the handsome man, “he didn’t even do anything—”

“(name),” he grits out, “go get in the fucking car.”

“bite me.”

jean, eren, and armin are seated back on some love cushions in the corner of the club, watching the scene play out. connie shakes his car keys while looking at them, signaling it’s time for him to go.

“s’fuckin annoying,” jean slurs, letting the alcohol do the talking. “i mean we came out here to take his mind off of her hic and she’s here too?…the hell.” armin nods at that.

“he definitely fucking knew! and hic and i-i’ll say it! they need to get the hell away from each other. he's costing our fun!”

eren’s too busy watching your ass bounce in the tinny tiny pink skirt you wear while you try and pull away from connie tugging you towards the exit of the club. “yeah..what a whore.” he licks his lips and gets up to go to the bar going to get his nth drink for the night. he’s got a scary drinking tolerance.

—————————————————————————

you’re scratching & pounding on connie’s arm, trying to wiggle yourself out of the tight hold he has on your arm when you guys get outside.

“who drove you here?” you ignore him.

there’s a beat of silence before he’s grabbing you by the hair and facing you towards him, making tears well up in your eyes, “don’t piss me off (name).”

“oww—nobody connie, i took an uber, let-let go.”

he loosens his grip but doesn’t fully let go. he waits until the few people around are entering the club or going to their cars before turning to you again. daring you to move with his eyes. you don’t. you know how mean he gets when he’s like this. “pull your skirt down. you look like a fucking hooker.”

your reply comes quick and you scratching at his arms, trying to get him to get the hell off your hair. “might as fucking well be. i-i bet that any guy could treat me better as a hooker than you do as your fucking girlfriend!”

“yeah like you have any right to say that after letting some fucking douche bag—”

“—i told him i had a boyfriend..!”

“so that’s why you were rubbing yourself all over him? got it.”

you stomp your feet. “you act like you don’t do the same shit all the time. if not more—”

“i’m not a thirsty ass bitch like you,” he laughs, “never cheated a day in my fucking life, honest to the ones above.”

he’s going to hell. you remember the times he’s messed with more than a few girls. some right in front of your face and you bet some in secret.

he doesn’t care about the toll it takes on your mental health, no. all he’s worried about is fucking more pussy.

you snatch your hand away from him and attempt to walk away before connie’s pulling you back by your arm and giving you one stern look.

he looks you up and down before tightening his jaw and grabbing you harshly by the arm. “you must want guys to look at you like your a walking fucking pussy.”

connie’s sick of you running around in your whore clothes embarrassing him. he’s sick of his friends looking at you like a piece of meat. he’s sick of feeling like he’s constantly fucking sharing you with the whole world. why do you have to walk out the house like you’ve never had any home training? or why do you have to dress like you’re begging someone to bend you over and fuck you. your supposed to be his girlfriend. he’s supposed to see. so why does everyone in the club get to see the same shit that he does?

it’s not like he hasn’t told you before about the shit you wear and how it affects his and your image. you just don’t give a fuck. he sees that. that’s ok though. he’s gonna really seal it in your brain.

his mind is racing all the way till he shoves you in the car, gets in himself, and starts it. he gives you a once over staring at you for a minute before putting his eyes back on the road.

“thought i told you to throw that away?”

he’s referring to the top you’re wearing. you know he is. that’s why you wore it out tonight. the shirt isn’t even that bad. it’s just a cute fitted top with a low cut. he called you a whore when he saw you in it the first time. told you to throw it away.

it’s nothing new.

you don’t answer him, instead you turn your whole body towards the door and cross your arms. hopefully he gets the hint.

he hates when you fucking ignore him. you know he does. that’s why you do it all the time, he knows it. still let’s it get under his skin though.

“are you fucking deaf?” he raises his voice. “i said why didn’t you throw that shit away?” you hear the irritation in his voice.

you don’t really feel how fast the car is going until you look at the speed limit. 75mph and then 80…and then eventually he’s crossing the 90’s.

sitting up in your seat you glance at him then the horizon, feeling the hairs on your body rise.

connie lives kind of far out. to get to his apartment you cross this long, long highway bridge. he knows how much you hate crossing it. it scares you so much that if you feel like he’s going even a little too fast you start to tear up.

“w-what the fuck are you doing?!”

he should feel guilty but he doesn’t. you’ve crossed too many lines tonight. you were bound to get a punishment anyway.

“you must hate me huh? must hate yourself don’t you baby?”

he presses on the gas.

your hand automatically goes to grab his arm, staring down at the empty road ahead.

“connie…can we please just—”

“you want me to drive us off the fucking bridge?want me to drive us into the fucking water (name)?”

you gasp, just him saying that making you shiver.

“what?! no…connie i—”

you’re too scared to even look at the speed he’s going but you can feel that it’s more than 90. is he going in the 100’s now? no he can’t be. he wouldn’t do that with you in the car right? he’s done it before but that was a while ago. he’s changed. he promised he’d never do that again.

“c-connie, stop!” you’re gasping and reaching out to hold him, “‘m’scared connie, m’fucking scared”

he takes his eyes off the road completely just to mess with you a little—still going his full speed—he takes one hand from the wheel and grabs your chin.

“you gonna answer my fucking question?”

you’re hysterical, looking between the road and his face. you’re still shaking and crying when you look him dead in his eyes and scream at him, “m’gonna fucking die—”

“don’t piss me the fuck of (name)!” he shakes you in his hold, only glances at the road, before speeding up impossibly faster. “you want me to fucking kill you? want me to kill the both of us?!”

“n- connie please, please hic i don’t wanna die. i—”

“—didn’t i tell you to throw the fucking shirt away.”

“yes—yes you did m’sorry! i’ll throw it—hic—i’ll throw it away!!”

he lets go of your face and turns back to the road, “do it now.”

without hesitation you claw at the material, taking it off of you—at least you try to—your hands are still shaking and you can barely even lift your arm. you hear the car screech and you scream, trying your best to take it off.

you’re so scared you feel like you’re gonna pass out. trying to lift the shirt above your head and going 100mph is definitely scarier and harder than you’d ever imagine but you get the job done.

still crying, you hold the now cursed shirt in your hand and shrink in on yourself. all you’ve got on is a bra and a mini skirt on this highway bridge. with connie trying to kill you. you scream and cry louder. on the verge of a panic attack. you feel like you’re spinning when you look up at him. too fast. he’s got an oddly satisfied look on his face, and right when his lips quirk up—yours droop down.

”connie—connie, please!”

“take my dick out.”

your eyes widen, your mouth drops open before letting out another sob. you hate how he humiliates you. “wha—what the fuck connie, i—”

he makes a show of pressing on the gas impossibly harder, swirling the car a bit as he does it. “if i gotta say it again i swear i’m gonna fucking slap you (name).”

you’re rushing to unbuckle his belt before you even know it. you think this is the hardest you’ve ever cried in your life. you’re gonna fucking die and the last thing you’ll be doing is grabbing connie springers dick.

once you’ve taken it out connie heaves a sigh. his dick is hard and oozing precum. it bobs up and down from your touch. “suck it.”

“slow the fucking car down!” you’re yelling so loud you feel like your ears are getting blown off. maybe if he sees how hard you’re crying? how upset you are? no he finds you amusing.

“i’ll tell you what.” he looks like he could burst out laughing any minute. “if i feel like you sucking my dick the best in your life, i’ll slow the fucking care down baby.”

your lips getting all wobbly again and your hands are shaking like never before. you can’t fucking do this.

“go.”

you start by giving him a long languid lick all the way from his balls to his tip—just how he likes—before you force the whole thing into your wet mouth. you feel his hips give a surprise buck immediately, before he groans real loud. you raise your head and suck his tip as hard as you can, making sure to swirl your tounge all around.

you let out a loud whine when he pushes your head all the way down. he keeps it there for as long as he likes, sort of rocking your head back and forth.

“oh—yeah, thats it.” you’re so relieved when he pulls over you think you almost scream.

he cums down your throat in thick and welcomed globs before pulling your wrecked face up and kissing you hard. he pulls your face back and stares at you, seemingly trying to read your expression.

“what’d you learn today, baby?”

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 13. Hair

Prev - Masterlist

Content: Giant/tiny, being handled, dressing/washing, cages, captivity, food mention, healing wounds, pet trope, solitary confinement, ableism, mobility aid being withheld (prosthetic leg), power dynamics, selectively mute whumpee, female cast, dissociation/fear, (let me know if I missed any) 

Pov: Soap Scrub

Poll winner: Be cleaned up, talk to hamster, be moved to main room

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!

—

“Are you ready to cooperate?” Ashley’s shrill voice pounds into your head as you wince at the sudden bright lights, even through all of the fluff you’re under. Slowly you dig yourself out of the bedding to face her.

You have no idea how long you were left alone in the cold, dark room, but you’re filthy, sore, and starting to go insane from basically being kept in solitary confinement for who knows how long. You hate to admit that you’re relieved to see another face, even if it's hers. You sigh heavily in defeat, knowing it won’t work, but you try the spiel anyway out of an obligation to stick up for yourself. “Look lady. You have to let me go-“

“No.” Ashley cuts it short with her arms crossed. “Do you want to stay in here for another week alone, or are you ready to cooperate?”

Quivering in anger you speak through your teeth. “Yes. Okay, yes I am.” You couldn’t handle another week alone in the dark like this with nothing to do. 

���Wonderful.” She claps her hands gently. 

The human is asking what you want to do, and giving you options, but somehow you doubt many of them are really going to be your choice in the end. She’s talking about how it's time to change your bandages, and how she needs to fix you up if you’re going to do model work. 

The next thing she does is pick up the cage with you in it, shifting the floor beneath you, and you have to put your good hand against the bars to brace yourself. 

Looking down towards the floor does you no favors while the cage sways in Ashley’s arms. You close your eyes and ignore the churning in your stomach, almost lurching backwards when the cage is set down on the kitchen counter. 

Now Ashley is going to grab you again, pull on your limbs, threaten you with the weight of her fingers. Your heart beats harder in your chest and your vision tunnels. You can’t take a deep enough breath. 

There's nowhere to escape her hand when she opens the cage door, and she grabs you with a gardening glove on so you can’t even bite her or fight back in any way. Fear paralyzes you, and her grip is too tight to try to wiggle away. You completely freeze, and dignity is thrown out the door when you start crying. Dissociation numbs your body and turns your mind into mud. Everything is a distant blur while she handles you.

The bandages are removed, and after a wash, you’re relieved to see your wounds are healing as they’re supposed to. The skin is knitting back together with lumpy scabs that itch along your arm and legs. You watch numbly as she bandages your limbs back up, as if you’re a puppet on strings, or more realistically, a doll that she’s playing with. 

“You need a haircut.” The dreaded words leave her lips and the thought of human size scissors snipping around your face makes your blood run cold.

”C-Can I do it myself? Please?” You actually look up at her huge face attempting to make blurry eye contact, blinking away stray tears from earlier.

“How would you do that?“ Ashley scoffs, her blue eyes piercing a glare.

“T-There’s a knife in my bag.” 

Ashley laughs. “You want me to give you a knife?“

Your cheeks warm and your mouth starts moving before you process the thought. “I’m the size of your thumb, and have no fucking leg. What do you expect me to do with a sliver of metal?!” The rush of defiance has you breathing heavily, and you brace to be slammed into the floor of the sink.

Ashley certainly looks mad, but she takes a deep breath. “Fine,“ she says.

Before you know it, you’re being granted a pocket sized vanity mirror in the sink with you, and given your knife back, just until you are done with it.Your hands are shaking, and one of them is still hard to move with the bandaged wounds. 

You stifle a sob when you see your reflection, but manage to hold it together. You look worse than you imagined. Your skin is clammy, with dark circles under your eyes and dark stubble starting to grow from your chin. Your hair is hideously sticking up all over the place and completely uneven in length.

Gingerly you start cutting away the longer strands in an attempt to even it out. Black chunks of hair fall around you and scatter around the silver floor. The back of your neck is cold with goosebumps and when you’re done, you throw your weapon across the sink for the giant hand to pluck away from you.

Dread eats away from the inside when she pinches the knife away like a crumb, and you force your voice steady. “Can I have my leg back now?” That was the deal, and now was the time to see if she was good on her word.

Ashley agrees, and hovers the doll leg just above you, and when you try to grab it, she pulls it up out of your reach. “Be nice,” she warns when you scowl at her, and lowers it back down. You yank it out of her fingers and hug it protectively. She tsk’s but turns her back to go do something else. 

“Mommy has to go to work now so be good while I’m gone, and I’ll set up a photo shoot when I get back.” Ashley isn’t talking to you anymore. She’s holding Hamster and giving her kisses. Your lip curls in disgust, and you use this time to pull your leg on as fast as possible.

The human’s back before you can stand, hovering over you, always flexing her power. She grabs you before you’re ready, causing you to yelp in alarm, and then puts you back into your cage. Dread weighs on you at the thought of being put back into that dark room. Except she doesn’t do that. Instead, she places your cage onto the kitchen counter by Hamster’s. 

Ashley’s huge blue eyes peer between the bars at you. “Behave while I'm gone. I’ll know if you try anything, little boy,” She threatens.

Just like that, she’s gone, and probably won't be back until the end of the day.

The room is dead quiet. No TV on today, just a soft humming of electronics, and the sound of a car or two driving by the house.

Hamster’s cage is just across the counter and you stumble past the bedding that Ashley put in yours to see if you can spot the pet from here. To your surprise, Hamster is outside of her cage and standing directly in front of yours, face to face with you. Shocked, you gawk at her for a second before you run your mouth with a snide comment. “Good job not falling off the counter again. You know, since I’m not there to save you this time.” You scowl deeply at her. “What do you want?”

Hamster just stares at you, smiling away.

You guess she’s over being upset that you threatened her before. Maybe she forgot already. Maybe she’s too dumb to hold a grudge. 

“Hello?” You wave. “Can you understand me?”

Hamster blinks back into reality, and nods her head while stroking an armful of her orange hair.

“Can you open the door to this cage?” You ask and point over to the door. The girl's eyes go wide, looking at the padlock on the bars, and she shakes her head no. 

You bite your tongue, screaming internally and go closer to her. Forcing yourself to stay calm. You can’t afford to scare her off. “Maybe you can find a tool for me?”

Hamster shakes her head again and frustration snaps an angry growl out of you. God, she’s actually useless.

”What can you do?” You spit out. “You know you owe me! I saved your life back then.” 

Hamster's eyebrows crease in a small frown and she walks off for a while, coming back with a sliced grape. She offers it to you. 

With a deep sigh you take it and sit in the fluff. “Thanks,” you mumble. It sure beats dried pellets, and the juicy flavour is the best experience you’ve had all week. 

Another several minutes go by without a word and the awkward silence is killing you. Is this really going to be how the rest of the day turns out?

Maybe it would be best to gain her trust after all… Get on her good side so she’ll be more inclined to help you. Pretend to be her friend, ask her questions, tell her a little about yourself. Anything to pass the time, really. 

—

I'm trying something different for these poll options this chapter. Feel free to send me questions via comments or ask box that you want soap to ask or talk about and I’ll include some into the next chapter. If you don’t have anything to ask, you can vote on whatever you want to see happen regardless!!

—

Thank you @alittlewhump for proof reading <3

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @justagiantpotato

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie prompt: Pirate AU. Jamie is being shipped to a loveless arranged marriage to Rupert or some other awful jerk. En route his ship is attacked by the dreaded pirate Captain Roy Kent and his crew. Roy's expecting a whiny, arrogant little rich kid to hold for ransom. Instead Jamie is fearless and doesn't give Roy an inch no matter what Roy threatens him with. At one point, Roy bluffs that he's whip Jamie proper, only for Jamie to tear his shirt off and reveal that his father's already left plenty of marks. Jamie eventually earns his place as part of Roy's crew, and more importantly, as husband to the dread Captain Kent himself.

If there’s something I love more then vampires it’s pirates. I absolutely can do this.

*Jamie’s mom is dead in this au because there’s no way she would ever let her baby be sold*

Jamie is furious. He’s worth so much more then just 500 gold pieces. At the very least 2000, he’s hot. He knows it.

He slams his fists on the locked door. It still doesn’t give. Jamie collapses back onto the cot they tossed at him. He figures he’ll catch a few more hours of sleep.

Jamie is just about to drift off when there’s screaming. He hears a new voice. A deep voice.

Jamie can hear it through the wood of the door so he must be close. “Unlock this now.”

The door swings open. Jamie stares up.

The man is gorgeous. The captain of their ship is standing behind him. A cruel laugh escapes the caption’s lips, “you’re in for it now Tartt.”

Jamie glares at him. The dark haired man gestures and he is dragged away. Jamie blinks. Oh. The man bends down to look at Jamie. He glances around the small room and sees all the clothing Rupert had sent.

“Pretty rich boy here should get us a nice ransom. Take him. I’m your new owner for the time being.” The man stands and gives a fake bow, “Roy Kent. At your service.”

Jamie shrieks. He’s heard stories. He knows who this is. He’ll not move unless he wants to thank you. Two men come toward him. They try to grab him but he bites them. He gets smacked by Roy. He’s been hit harder many times but it was unexpected. “Stop it boy. Be good. Let them carry you or I will.”

Jamie lightly struggles once again but let’s the two men carry him this time. As they leave the ship he looks at the bodies. Jamie can’t honestly say he feels bad for them, they all said horrid things they wanted to do to him. What Rupert would allow them to do.

He shudders without meaning to. The man on his right laughs, “cold princess?” Jamie slams his head into the man’s nose. Blood starts pouring out.

“Oi!” Jamie freezes. Fuck.

“Sink their ship then we need to teach princess here a lesson in manners.”

Jamie sighs. He looks at the man he head butted, his nose is probably broken. He feels a bit bad because the man was just following orders. But oh well.

They toss him into a cell. It’s going to be a long trip.

-

They’ve yell at him, dump cold water on him. Roy has threatened to take away his clothing. To shave his head. Jamie refuses to break.

He won’t do it.

He thinks the captain is slowing getting a bit of respect for Jamie.

Until that night.

It’s just the two of them again, Roy has a whip in his hand, he taps it against the bars. “I’ll make you talk with this. Final chance Tartt.”

Jamie laughs. He can’t help it.

He strips off his shirt and turns around. There’s an inhale of air. “You can’t do worse then what my old man did. Go ahead and try if you can find space.”

Theres utter silence from Roy.

Jamie spins around. He knows the front isn’t as bad but there’s still marks. Mostly from cigar burns.

“I’m sorry.”

Jamie thinks maybe he hit his head. “You’re what?”

Roy tosses the whip across the ship. “Sorry. I shouldn’t of made assumptions. They never get people places. Never got me anywhere.”

Jamie nods. He can understand that. Roy reaches forward and unlocks the cage. “Let’s talk. Come to my cabin. You can have clean clothes.”

Now Jamie knows it might be dumb but he’s exhausted, wet, and starving. He shrugs and picks up his shirt. He doesn’t care who sees his scars.

As they make their way up to the cabin they pass people, Colin, the man who’s nose Jamie broke, gasps when he sees his back.

It makes Jamie smile. He’s always loved shocking people.

Roy gestures for him to go into the cabin. It’s warmer. Jamie picks up a loaf of bread and bites into it.

Roy stares at him for a second before getting clothing. He passes it over. “It’ll be big it’s mine. We’ll try and find some in your size.” Jamie nods. Seems like the captain might like him. Interesting.

Jamie could start to like the captain.

10 months later it’s not just Roy who is feared, the blond who is now constantly seen at his side is always spoke of along with Roy’s name.

They say his name is Jamie Kent. He rescues people in trouble or from abusive marriages. They say he gutted his owner once Roy freed him. Those are just rumors though. The man who was supposed to marry Jamie actually went missing months before.

What no one really knows though is Rupert’s head made a lovely proposal gift. How could Jamie ever say no to that.

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 5: Poltergeist

In which Danny meets Sam - Christopher's congenial manservant who is as strange as the rest of the mansion. Contains: ~3.6k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

Danny had fully expected Christopher to return and gloat like some swaggering, self-satisfied cat, with her the proverbial canary. But after leaving with Nathan, the giant didn’t even return to the room she was kept in—she could hear him speak, assumedly to Nathan, and she heard the front door open, but then the sounds of his huge, hulking footsteps seemed to disappear up the stairs and away, and she was left alone, angry, and utterly confused. 

She supposed she didn’t know what to expect, although none of the possibilities seemed good. What would a giant possibly want with a human, anyways? He’d said Nathan was to “remain in his service” as long as he “required” him. But what did that even mean? What could a human even do in a big-ass mansion like this? Cleaning the floor of even one room would be the endeavor of a lifetime. A month might get one baseboard cleaned, or the dust swept off a single counter. And surely, a rich prick like this had some sort of staff already, giant or otherwise. 

She wondered if the services Christopher “required” were less tasteful in nature, and her stomach recoiled at the thought. He hadn’t said anything that would imply as much—not yet, anyways—and surely, if he’d kept her here for some sort of entertainment, he’d be down here taunting her right now. 

The hours passed uneventfully, allowing the rage bubbling up within her to quiet to a low simmer as she mulled over her predicament with an idle sort of dread, trying to put the pieces together of who—or rather, what—Christopher really was, and what horrors the next month would entail. The only answer she got was silence. 

Whatever the case, her loathing for the giant only increased the longer she waited for something to break the monotony—and so when he did reappear later that night, with the bare remnants of sunlight outside the windows having long since faded into black, she was all too eager to pick a fight. 

“I see his majesty has seen fit to grace me with his presence,” she spat, rising quickly from her seated position on the floor of the cage to stand as tall and straight as she could, exuding as much pure detestation as she possibly could when her whole body was the size of this bastard’s finger. “Touch me again, and I’ll bite your fucking finger off. I dare you.” 

Christopher moved toward her with a frustratingly placid expression, holding what appeared to be a…tiny tray of food in his hand. She hadn’t been expecting even the bare minimum of decency. I suppose he realizes he has to feed the prisoners if he wants his entertainment alive. 

“I thought you would like something to eat,” he said simply. He slid the tray between the functionally redundant bars of the cage. It was much more crude and simple than the rest of the house’s furnishings, and it was laden with food that had been prepared for someone her size to consume. She didn’t know exactly what all of it was, but it appeared far nicer than the traditional prisoner’s meal of gruel and moldy bread. There was some sort of soup in a quaint little bowl, a sliver of bread that was clearly cut from a giant-sized loaf, and even what appeared to be some manner of fruit sliced small enough for her to eat. She could smell spices that she just knew were far too expensive for her or Nathan to ever have afforded, and she felt a quiver of hunger in response. 

She almost caved—but her lip curled into a snarl, and she looked up to meet Christopher’s eyes as rage burned inside of her. “I’m not hungry,” she lied.

He wasn’t fazed—he bent down so that he was eye level with her now. She might have been intimidated by the serious edge to his gaze if she wasn’t so fucking angry at him. “There’s no need to be stubborn, doll. I’m trying to be nice—the least you could do is accept my generosity.” 

His calmness was exceptionally irritating—the way he didn’t seem to even acknowledge the fact that he talked about being nice when she was literally in a cage, when he had literally imprisoned her here, and her friend before her, and just walked about like it was fine and normal and really, she should be grateful. She didn’t care if he was a giant, or if he could easily reach in and crush her in his fist without a second thought if he wanted. If she had no choice but to endure this place for a month to pay off some bullshit debt, then she was going to make this guy’s life hell in the process, giant or not.

She took a few tense, silent steps toward the tray, getting even closer to Christopher’s face in the process. She ignored the way he stared at her, purposefully making eye contact with him the entire time to spite the tiny part of herself that was internally quaking with fear. She slowly bent down to pick up the bowl of soup—a buttery orange color, perhaps made of some sort of squash if she had to take a guess. It smelled delicious, but her hatred had overtaken her hunger for the moment.

With nothing but stubborn silence to punctuate the action, she flung the contents of the bowl at Christopher—she’d aimed for his eyes, but he’d reacted quick enough to take the brunt of it along his hooked nose with a sharp, frustrated intake of breath as the hot soup splashed across his perfect, pristine skin. She tossed the empty bowl at his face, and it bounced off his nose to the floor. 

For a moment, he didn’t move at all—she could tell that he was forcing a frustrated grimace into a neutral expression. His eyes squeezed closed before he opened them again with a steely, dark sharpness to his gaze as they narrowed at her. His lips curved up into a tight smile. “I suppose you’re right. You’re clearly not hungry.” 

With a tense jerk of his wrist, he flicked off the majority of the soup from his face and took the tray back, rising back up to his full height and turning around to leave the way he’d come without another word. Danny didn’t offer any more insults either—she was satisfied for the time being.

She was still riding the wave of what she considered a small victory, reveling in how satisfying it was to make a mess of that giant, to know that the soup had likely stained the crisp white collar of Christopher’s fancy, expensive shirt as he’d flicked it off his face. But as a little more time passed, and she could no longer hear his footsteps near her, the pride ebbed to make way for the twisting coils of hunger and regret in her stomach. She’d left herself with nothing to eat besides the remnants of the soup that dripped along the bars of her cage.

With no giant for her to put up a brave front for, she lowered herself to the cold metal floor of her cage and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest.

It wasn’t the first time she’d gone to bed hungry, but it was no less uncomfortable than it had been all those years ago. And just like in all those unpleasant memories, she was alone. 

Or, well, so she thought.

She had almost forgotten about the strange voice that had led her into the house earlier, the identity of which had become a much less pressing matter once she’d met the mansion’s giant resident. But she’d only been lying down for a minute or two when she heard it again—in front of her, as if there was another human standing in this cage with her somehow. 

“Hey…are you okay?” 

She stood up quickly, turning around in a circle as if she could have possibly missed the fact that her cage had another inhabitant. It was still empty, of course.

“Where are you?” she asked dubiously, walking cautiously up to the bars of the cage to look down towards the floor—which gave her a rush of vertigo, but no clues as to where the voice could be coming from.

“Uh…” the voice trailed off. “I mean, it’s not really important. I just help with things around here.”

Danny raised a questioning eyebrow, increasingly suspicious of the lack of answers she’d gotten in regards to this person’s identity. “I just want to get a look at you, alright? Can I just see you?” 

There was a lengthy pause. “Okay, listen. I know you’ve had to deal with a lot of weirdness today already, so I don’t want to, uh, scare you more.” 

Are they some sort of monster too? Maybe an invisible one? Danny sighed, somewhat tersely. “I can handle it. I have enough questions to deal with already.” 

“O…kay then,” the voice relented. “Well, for starters, my name’s Sam. It’s nice to meet ya, Danny.” 

Danny only nodded, waiting for Sam to appear so that a proper introduction could take place. 

“And, well, you haven’t seen me because I, uh, don’t really have a body.” 

Doesn’t have a body? Are they…some sort of ghost? Is this place haunted? “So…you’re like a ghost or something?” she suggested, with a tone that was much calmer than the sentence should warrant.

“Well, I mean, kinda, but it’s more like, uh…well, the funny thing is, I’m kind of…the house.” 

Danny blinked, wondering if she’d heard right. She was quite certain she had, but the words didn’t make much sense in the order they were in. “What the heck does that mean?”

It seemed as though a breeze flew around the room, though all the windows were closed—the curtains rose and lifted as a wind that had come from seemingly nowhere passed by them in a sweeping motion. Danny could almost feel a slight tingle along her skin, like the strange wind passed by her, too. 

“I can move anywhere in this place, and I can sort of…well, I can control the furniture and stuff. Wanna see?” 

Danny, suddenly feeling even more uncertain, took a few steps back towards the center of her cage, as if that would play any part in keeping her safe. Though it didn’t sound like “Sam” had any malevolence in their suggestion. “Uh…sure…?” 

The pages of a book on a nearby table rustled slightly as an invisible force caressed them. A quiet creaking and groaning came from a source she couldn’t quite place, until she realized that the chair next to the table was moving, seemingly of its own accord. Its plush, elaborately carved arms began to curl outward and inward again, moving impossibly like an awkward, upholstered bird trying to flap its wings slowly. And then, as if the slight amount of movement had been nothing more than a warm up, the short, carved legs of the chair began to hop forward and backwards in a rhythmic little jig, moving almost as gracefully as if the still very chair-shaped chair actually had hips to sway back and forth. It didn’t even make much noise as it tap-danced along the tile floor, moving as lightly and delicately as if guided by the gentlest and most precise of puppet strings.

Danny watched the scene with her mouth agape, not entirely convinced her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, even after all the other strange things she’d seen in the past few hours. 

The chair’s motion stopped as it settled back into the same position it had been in before, no worse for wear and with no indication that it had just taken up a new hobby besides resting there quietly and waiting for someone to sit upon it. 

“Wait, wait! Hold your applause.” 

The voice emanated from the chair this time, or at least from the chair’s direction—sounding a little further away from Danny than it had been before.

The large rug that adorned the tile floor began to flutter its edges delicately, in a manner that suggested it was quite pleased with itself, before the entire thing lifted from the ground and twirled around in a proud spectacle. Danny could do nothing but watch in a state of bewildered shock as the giant, floor-sized rug spun around in midair—she vaguely remembered Nate telling her a story involving a magic rug once, but hadn’t ever imagined seeing one for herself, and certainly not one so impossibly huge. The carpet folded in a few select places in such a way as it moved that it was almost evocative of the way one might turn and pose as they admired their own reflection in a mirror. The fabric bent forward in what seemed to be a gentlemanly bow before it quickly unfurled again and settled slowly back into place, floating as lightly as a leaf in the wind before it took its place on the floor once again.

The mysterious (though now perhaps slightly more explicable) wind seemed to swirl around the whole room once again in a wide circle, rustling book pages and curtains in its wake—and this time, as it swept across the fireplace, a small flame flickered across the logs inside that quickly rose to a crackling blaze. All the lamps that hung on the walls lit up at once, casting the whole place suddenly into a bright, warm glow.

“...ta-daaa,” Sam exclaimed proudly from what seemed to be a painting on the wall to Danny’s left—a portrait of a rather serious man who looked like he would not be very amused at all with his visage being used as a prop for such a carefree, furniture-possessing apparition. 

Perhaps the thing inside of her that should have been scared or baffled beyond reason had finally snapped, because all Danny could manage was an amused grin that spread wider across her face as she looked around the room in awe. “...wow,” she breathed. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t see that coming. That’s…really cool, actually.” 

The portrait that seemed to be currently hosting Sam’s presence didn’t change at all—and indeed, the man it portrayed didn’t seem to be capable of an emotion outside the realm of grim and severe, but she could have sworn that the painting almost blushed. “Aw, thanks. Honestly, you’re too kind.” 

Danny’s head tilted in curiosity, now much more fixated on learning about Sam than she was with feeling discontent about her current living situation. “So…I mean, how did this…did you…how are you-”

“-it’s a long story,” Sam interrupted, “and frankly, I don’t, uh, remember most of it. The details aren’t really important. I’m just…well, I take care of this place. Always have.” 

“Oh,” Danny mumbled, somewhat disappointed. She slowly sat back down on her cage’s floor. “So you work for the giant bastard, huh.”

“...yeah. I’ve taken care of Christopher since he was a kid. It’s been just us here, for a long time.” Sam spoke a little quieter, and much closer to her, as if they were seated in front of her again. 

“Listen, I’m…sorry I didn’t tell you about your friend before. But it was pretty brave of you, to take his place like that.” 

By all rights, Danny should be angry at Sam too—especially since they had apparently been the one to lead them inside this mansion in the first place. They’d tricked her, hadn’t they? 

But she couldn’t find the will to be angry at this invisible anomaly. She was tired—weary from traveling all day, from hunger, and honestly, from the energy it had taken to be so utterly furious at Christopher for so long. And strange as this person was, Danny couldn’t sense any malicious intent from them.

She sighed heavily. “I guess you can’t do much if he’s the ‘master of the house,’ huh.” She spoke the words with a bitter edge to them. “It’s okay. You’re not the one I’m angry at. You didn’t lock me up in here.”

Sam didn’t reply at first, and when they spoke again, they sounded much more hesitant than before. “...Christopher…doesn’t have any ill will towards you, you know. He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just been…well, it’s been a while since he’s had company.” 

Danny couldn’t help but give a scornful laugh at Sam’s flimsy attempt to justify Christopher’s behavior. “‘Company’? I’m a fucking prisoner. Do you see this?” she lamented, gesturing weakly around her at the cage. “‘Rough around the edges’ is a really funny way to describe a pretentious prick that makes a habit of throwing people in fancy little cages for his own amusement.”

It felt like the whole house sighed around her.

There was another brief moment of silence, and for a moment she thought that Sam had just left completely. But then their voice spoke up, with just a hint of mischief coloring its tone. “Well…you don’t HAVE to stay in there. Um…hold on.”

“Hold onto wh-AT THE HELL,” Danny cried as the entire cage began to move with her inside of it. From her current vantage point frozen in fear against the bottom of the cage, she couldn’t see much of what was happening below her, but it almost seemed as though the golden stand that had been holding the cage up had become a pair of slim metal legs, moving slowly and evenly across the floor to the open door at the other end of the room.

“Shh,” Sam whispered, their voice still coming from just in front of her somehow as the cage continued to move itself out of the room. Danny complied, her breath catching in her throat as she did her very best not to imagine what it would be like to slide through the bars of the cage to the floor very, very far below her.

The cage crossed the grand entryway before heading further down a different hallway, making all sorts of twists and turns before it stopped in front of a huge door. 

As the cage finally stopped, the room's door swung open silently, and the cage proceeded inwards. They had entered a large, ornate bedroom, with a huge four-poster bed in the middle of it hung with silken curtains and draped with plush blankets. The room itself seemed as though it hadn’t seen much use in a while—Danny could almost see the giant-sized dust motes floating around in the air—but it was still so incredibly elaborate, it felt like a privilege to even look at. She’d never seen such fluffy pillows in all her life, even if they were the size of soft, feather-filled houses. 

The cage bent down slightly, its legs creaking and twisting to lower the part with Danny inside to the level of the bed. The door to the cage popped open, the lock and the subsequent need for a key apparently ignored. 

Danny didn’t stay trapped in frozen shock for long—she eagerly took the opportunity that had been presented to her, scampering out of the cage and stumbling onto the huge expanse of the giant-sized mattress, all but falling into the unbelievably soft blankets that waited for her. 

“Oh! And wait there. I’ll be right back.” The cage moved back out of the room and the door shut behind it. Danny only had a few minutes to sit there in shock before the door opened again, and this time, a rolling cart entered silently. As it got closer to the side of the bed, Danny could see that it was transporting a comically tiny tray of food nearly identical to the one that Christopher had offered earlier. There were a few more plates of various, equally tasty looking foods to go along with it—even a tiny, human-sized tin cup of water.

The cart rolled to a stop right next to the bed, close enough that Danny could easily walk onto it if she’d wanted to grab the food. 

“See? You’re a guest. Anything you want, you just have to ask.” 

Oh, anything I want, huh? “I want to leave,” Danny grumbled.

It almost looked like the cart sagged a little bit, its metal handles bending slightly inward as if it was saddened by her request. “Well, anything inside the house, anyways. Really, this place isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

The lamp on the bedside table lit up suddenly, illuminating the room. “I’m gonna lock the door, uh, at least for tonight. That way you can have a little peace of mind for now. And remember, if you need anything, just shout! I don’t sleep, you know. And I’m sorry we don’t have any, well, smaller rooms, but if you need to get somewhere, I can help.” 

It seemed like it should be a trick—but even if it was, she was too tired and hungry to care. Besides, it wasn’t so bad to accept the generosity of someone who seemed genuinely friendly, even if they did seem to be working for the same guy who’d tossed her in a cage only a few hours ago.

“Okay. Um…thanks, Sam. Really, I appreciate it.” She eyed the food suspiciously. “Though something tells me your boss wouldn’t really like you doing all this for me.” 

There was a slight pause. “You ought to give him another chance. He’s not as bad as he seems.”

Danny gave Sam a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“Besides, he can’t get upset about you sleeping on a nice bed or getting a little food—you’re a guest! And besides, what’s he gonna do? FIRE me? HAHAHAhahaha—”

Sam’s laughter floated out of the room as the door shut behind them, disappearing down the hallway and leaving Danny seemingly alone again. 

She began to eat in grateful silence, ravenously stuffing as much food into her mouth as she could. It was all delicious, and not just because she was starving—genuinely, it was the best food she’d ever had in her life. All of this seemed a little too good to be true, but she didn’t care. Even if Sam did work for Christopher, at least they were nice. She still wasn’t sure what exactly was going to happen to her here—Sam suggesting that Christopher didn’t plan on doing anything malicious to her was not only hardly believable, it also didn’t answer any of her questions. 

But if she was going to spend the night alone in a strange place, worrying about Nathan and angry at Christopher, at least she could do it comfortably, on a full stomach. She was going to have to take whatever silver lining she possibly could. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

Danny's not the only one in need of a pep talk. I think Sam probably needs to chat with Christopher, too. Tune in next week for chapter 6: Lessons in Futility!

And thank you for reading!

[ohbo-ohno]

God i love your puppy play stuff 😘🫡

got this ask like as soon as i posted this the other day and i've been hoarding it until i want to write pupply play again lmfao thank you for your service anon

kay tweets from today for inspo:

cw: noncon puppy play, rough sex, smidge of piss kink, ghost is mean (again) but johnny isn't as into it this time

noncon puppy play with super horny soap. wants to be with ghost sooo bad, figures it's worth behaving like a puppy if it means ghost will fuck him :(

thinks it's just name-calling at first, doesn't fully mind it when ghost calls him a horny bitch, says good job puppy. it's a little weird, but the praise feels good and the degradation makes his cock twitch

but then it's things like refusing to let soap suck his dick - pulls him back by the hair and tells him just to use his tongue, slobber over it like a proper mutt and... maybe soap doesn't like that as much. does it, because he doesn't want ghost to take his dick away from soap, but is a little tiny bit more hesitant. gets cock drunk soon after, forgets about the hesitance soon enough

it sort of escalates every time they sleep together. ghost holds a hand over his mouth when they fuck in a utility closet, mumbles in his ear about buying a muzzle for his mutt before next time and soap genuinely can't tell if he's just saying it to get off or not

learns he's not when ghost shoves him into his room, has a hand over his mouth and a gag covering it before johnny can even realize what's happened. looks up at ghost with those big shocked eyes, not fully sure what's happened. shakes his head a little, reaches up to try and get it off before ghost bats his hands away. he's smirking a little, says "don't like your muzzle, puppy?" soap just whines and shakes his head more roughly, getting a little teary. "wanna stop? wanna go back out?" ghost asks, and... well, johnny wants to fuck. doesn't like the muzzle (though he hasn't softened in his pants at all) but still wants to get railed

ghost almost always fucks him doggy style. johnny likes it (likes that ghost lets him lay on his back sometimes too, lets him know that he does still have a say) but isn't sure how he feels when ghost asks him if he wants to be "mounted" instead of "fucked"

ghost asks him to bark at one point :/ johnny's nearly finished, is whimpering and whining, gets so close and ghost locks a hand over his cock, squeezes right at the base to cut off his orgasm. says bark, dog and johnny can only make a little confused whine, can't even speak. ghost gives his cock a little tap, a harder slap when johnny moans. c'mon, puppy. bark for me and i'll let you come yeah? good boys bark, you my good boy or not?

and... and johnny is so close. so he barks. and he keeps barking when ghost's thrusts get rougher, doesn't notice he hasn't stopped until ghost pulls out and laughs a little, says alright, quiet puppy. don't make me muzzle you, and then he whines a little and buries his face in ghost's throat. hides his face in ghost's heartbeat

makes the cage as a punishment so much worse if johnny is only going along with it for ghost. feels so much worse when he's in there all alone :( cries a little, whimpers and whines with hitched breaths and begs ghost to let him out :( gets told every word he says is another hour in the cage and nearly howls, feels soooo sad, doesn't understand why ghost is being so mean to him. ghost drops a little toy bone in the cage, says chew on that to keep yourself busy. i'll be back to feed you later and just disappears. leaves johnny whining all day :(

ghost comes back, still doesn't let him out. johnny begs a little more and gets a few more hours added onto his crate time. ghost says you need the muzzle to teach you dogs don't fuckin' talk? and johnny just whimpers and shakes his head, hunches his shoulders real low. ghost hums, says good boy and feeds little bite sized pieces of food through the bars of the cage, sticks his fingers into johnny's mouth so he can lick the taste off. lets him drink nearly a whole bottle of water. doesn't let him out of the cage before he goes to sleep :(

ghost wakes up to johnny whining in the middle of the night. smirks a little before he gets up because he can guess what he's complaining about without even glancing over. sure enough, when he flicks on the light he sees poor johnny all wiggly on his knees :( hand cupped over his dick, looking up at ghost with those big puppy eyes. "what, boy?" ghost asks, standing above the cage and making his face a little mean. johnny is good, he remembers not to speak, just paws at the crate bars a little and looks all pathetic. "hm? you need the bathroom?" johnny nods enthusiastically, already shifting towards the crate door. ghost can't resist the smirk, can't resist the rush of pleasure when he says "what did you think the puppy pads were for?" and watches johnny die a little inside. smokes a quick cigarette while he watches johnny cry and make a mess of himself

pulls him out by his hands the next morning but doesn't let him stand, coos over him and strokes a hand over his mohawk. says there you are, good boy johnny. made a mess, didn't you? need your owner to clean you up, huh? gonna be good and sit still for a bath? and watches when it doesn't even occur to johnny to stand up when ghost keeps his hand on the back of his neck

pouty wet dog johnny :( looks all sad and mopey when he sits on the floor of the shower and ghost uses the shower head to spray him down. lets ghost pat him down after, leans his whole body weight into ghost's hands and just begs for comfort. gets lots of pets and treats for taking his punishment so well <3 takes a little while to start talking again

[curtsbigspoon]

So I already sent one in- But I had to delete my account because something went absolutely hay-wire with it, It's under the same name- But I'm not sure if it'll translate back- But I asked about Crosby anything. I'd bite at the bar of my fucking cage for it. I'm obsessed with Crosby, I'm not sure if you do write anything about him. If you don't, that's completely fine. Just ignore this if that's the case. I've just been dying for any crumbs of Crosby content-

My ask box is otherwise empty so I'm assuming it got deleted with your account. But fear not sweet creature, ask and ye shall recieve!

I did ask my pookie @johnslittlespoon a little about this one, just because as much as I do love cros and do intend on writing him and stuff, I haven't had a lot of chances yet, other than my most recent post where I spoke about him x bubbles as well as him x rosie. But i wanted to deliver still, so I can give you some more headcanons.

Feel free to ask for like more thought out stuff, or snippet things because I will attempt, I just never know what to provide unless someone is specific so forgive me 😭SPOILERS AHEAD BOYS!!!

crosby has always drank black coffee, ever since he got the taste of it, can't stick anything else. the first time bubbles offers to make him a cup he doesn't think to specify, is just grateful enough that they offered. it takes a lot for him to swallow his first sip, tries not to make it obvious, offering a smile and a nod. he's so used to taking sips whilst he's deep in his work that he inevitably winds up finishing the cup. gets up to go and make himself another, desperate for his preferred taste, only for bubbles to spawn out of nowhere offering to get him another one. he tries to politely decline but "i was gonna make myself one anyhow" and now he can't refuse or he'll look rude.

this bit's a tiny bit angsty but after bubbles dies, crosby can't drink the sweet stuff again. he tries to for the very first time after hearing, thinks it'll be something to to keep the memory. but it gets too hard, he winds up being sick, goes back to drinking black coffee because he can't stand the reminder of losing his best friend. well, up until he's deep in work and rosie comes along to see how he's doing, brings him a cup, and it's sweet and he probably drops his face into his hands and gets worked up but- (GUNSHOTS)

this one's especially based on the newest episode but, crosby's used to being seen as more timid right? will immediately stand up to admit when he's done something wrong but before it even gets to that point you can see it eating away at him. he might be able to handle a few comments here and there about himself, never quite willing to turn hostile because it's war, there's worse things happening and it's not worth getting worked up over. but the minute you say a single bad thing about his friends? oh it's over. he'll use his authority, put the fear of god into you, suddenly snap out of nowhere, no a soul can sense it's coming. he means business.

once again talked about in my last post but this man does not sleep, whether it's because of work or anxiety. he probably gets up and paces about, maybe goes to sit outside, goes somewhere, anywhere to clear his head. (angst) but he probably goes somewhere he knows he'll be alone, will talk to bubbles as if he's sitting beside him, laugh about good stuff that's happened, spill his guts about the things eating away at him, referring to fond memories they used to share.

[number-0-iz]

MISS SCARLET AND THE DUKE

LIVE REACTIONS

Season 5, episode 6

Detective Phelps: *complains about possibly not becoming inspector*

Thug: Well maybe they just don't like you.

Oliver Fitzroy: HEHE

My man is so pretty when he smiles!😭😭

Also seeing dad ey? The rude, elitist and cruel dad that he can't get on with?

OH NO NOT NEPOTISM.

Dad: *gives a single compliment*

Oliver: YAY PATERNAL LOVE

Dad: You never had any ambition ever since you were a child so take this chance with both hands.

Oliver:

Oh no not Nash being wanted for murder.

OLIVER FITZROY IGNORE PHELPS BEING A DICK (even though it is nepotism), IGNORE YOUR DAD, YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE.

MR. POTTS COME ON BE NICE.

GO OLIVER, STAND UP FOR YOURSELF, THIS IS AMAZING. DON'T LET THEM DEVALUE YOUR EFFORTS JUST BECAUSE YOUR SHIT ASS DAD IS COMMISSIONER. WOOOOOHOOO. Phelps says he's sensitive but who wouldn't be.

I love you Oliver but maybe you need some more time as a detective.😭 I am loving the development and screentime though.

SCARLETNASH YEEEESSSS!

I mean Phelps reasoning was pretty good so Oliver should have just let him go. But then again, Eliza already had the manifest.

Oliver let me hold you sweetie. Try to do it how you would, not how Wellington would.

Maybe let Phelps handle this one with the dock peeps?

LMAO NOT THAT DUDE STEPPING FORWARD TO BE A SNITCH.

OLIVER KNOCKED DOWN A CRIMINAL WITH A GUN TO HELP PHELPS NOT GET STABBED. That was pretty hot.

Oliver needs to do what he does best. Listen to others and try to balance the scales. Use your amazing and slight funny brain. Sweetie patootie.

Phelps: And try not to shoot yourself!

HOW MANY TIMES DID THAT HAPPEN LMAO

Phelps does have a point in saying that cops do and always should have each others backs and that a thank you isn't always necessary but an unspoken given. I can't believe I am agreeing with this bitch😭. He could stand to be nicer though.

Oliver better not get fucking shot or I will bite people.

Oh Nash has O'Driscoll tied up for the murder of his brother.

DON'T SHOOT HIM NASH

NASH BEING EMOTIONAL.

Eliza: if not for you, then for me.

Nash, emotional:...for you?

OOOH THIS IS GOOD

Eliza: You are not just my business partner. You are my friend.

Someone kill me now.

HE SHOT EAMONN TO SAVE ELIZA.

Ah thank god he shot him in the shoulder.

Hopefully Phelps keeps up this soft spot.

Oliver Fitzroy: You should go home. Get so sleep.

I COULD SAY THE SAME TO YOU.

What do you mean the PI office needs to be closed because his license gets suspended.

Doesn't Eliza have one too?

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. IT WILL BE FINE.

I am rattling at the bars of my cage rn.

Nash: I want you to think that I am a good person.

Eliza, jokingly: Oh that could never happen.

Nash, staring dreamily at her: I won't stop trying.

(This is paraphrased btw)

I am going to die alone

NO OLIVER'S GOTtA STAY

OLIVER SAYS NO TO HIS DAD.

I mean Oliver saying that he realises he still has a lot more to learn and that he loves his job as it is is character growth.

Dad: each time I think you cannot disappoint me more and each time you prove me wrong.

Oliver: That is your concern father. Not mine. I no longer care.

HE DID NOT JUST "THAT SOUNDS LIKE A YOU PROBLEM" HIS DAD

ICON. A LITERAL ICON.

I AM SO PROUD OF HIM.

AWW FITZROY RECOMMENDED PHELPS

MY SWEETIE I LOVE YOU

A THANK YOU FROM PHELPS? wooooow.

I love Oliver's little giggle

And I will admit that Phelps is growing on me compared to previous seasons.

Like I said, let's hope he gets a bit of a softspot and grows.

The William flashback 🥲

ELIZA IS BACK AT HER DAD'S OLD OFFICE?

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER EMPLOYEES?

It better gets put back in order when Nash gets back. I like her being the chief.

THE SEASON ENDING WITH THE SHOT OF HER NAME ON THE OFFICE.

In conclusion, good episode, AND I HOPE FOR MORE SCENES OF ONE DETECTIVE OLIVER FITZROY AND SCARNASH.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Dark!Pixar Villains x Reader || Drabbles

Plots / Includes: 

Charles Muntz x Assistant!Reader- Your punishment for letting the creature escape.

Yandere!Human!Hopper x Reader- He is the monster you caused. Basically he's quite aware that he's obsessed, and possessive to a massive fault- But according to him that's your fault; Not his.

Human!Chick Hicks x King’s(OfAge)Offspring!Reader- An old rival of your Dad’s turns up for your parents anniversary party and you end up fucking him... at your parents anniversary party. Oh no.

Human!Yandere!Lots-O-Huggin’ Bear x NewToy!Reader- Classic Yandere in position of Power sets his sights on you immediately and makes you uncomfortable with how close he wants you all the time, without actually making his obsession totally clear. Just enough to make it weird.

Randall Boggs x Sully’sRomanticInterest!Reader- Randall has a bit of an obsession with one upping Mike and Sully, and Celia doesn't like him much at all, so... He’s set his sights on you. Unfortunately, you're loyal to Sully-... so Randall has to get creative.

Warnings: (Starting with Muntz and working our way down. Also colour coded so you're able to be more aware:) Mental torture, monster-creature, Punishment, traumatising you as punishment, creepy boss to the MAXIMUM gage, non-con kiss, kiss while you're asleep, Major possessiveness, Hopper killing a man cuz you talked to him, murder, beating, Hopper trying to convince you his actions are your fault, VERY inappropriate relationship involving age difference and fucking fathers frenemy, scandal, references to semi-public sex, self disgust, dirty talk, mental+emotional manipulation, gaslighting, unwanted physical affection, unwanted closeness, intent to isolate, harassment, blackmail, references to sex work, forced relationship, etc.

Charles Muntz: 

You say i love you like its an APOLOGY. - Things My Ex Said Project

"Ah!" You throw yourself back against the far bars of the cage, eyes wide and mouth open in terror. This creature that's tearing and biting at the bars between you and it, that looks like it must have been an inspiration for the original Adam - the one Frankenstein made out of animal parts, - is so hungry. So ravenous. And its got fleshy, bloody, warm you in its sights.

Just as Charles intended when he locked you up in here.

A giant, scaly paw with 3 inch long claws manages to slip through the bars and swipe at you and you actually start to cry from fear; Cowering so tightly against the bars that it hurts, cold metal biting and burning itself into your skin.

Or is it from guilt? For letting the bird escape? Charles has been hunting that thing for years and you're at fault for it escaping this time! At the time, you thought it was right to let it run, but maybe this horrible feeling you have now is guilt!

A bloodcurdling roar comes from the beast and it slams its forehead into the bars. The bars shiver and the gates shift, and your eyes widen; Beginning to hyperventilate as you look around in a panic at the ever-weakening restraints.

"Charles! Charles I'm- I'm so sorry! Fuck fuck fuck!- Fuck, Charles I'm so sorry!" Again the creature bashes the flat of its head into the bars, again- and again- and again- and you feel like your heart might just rip out of your chest at the sight. If it keeps doing that- "Charles its gonna get in!" You screech, fingernails digging into the stonewall behind your bars. "Please, Charles!- CHARLES-"

From somewhere else in the room, a speaker crackles loudly and your bosses voice floats through. You know he's watching through a camera, enjoying his dinner at the screen and reaching lazily over to press the intercom- and all you want is to be there with him. You would even go straight to bed without dinner- just anywhere but here. Anywhere but here!-

"My dear... I assure you, it wont. Calm down- there's no need to sob... You'll take the satisfaction right out of your punishment, for me." He almost sounds sincere, but then you hear the sound of him chewing- taking his time with a mouthful of steak, and your heart thuds. "And we wouldn't want that... "

No- then you would have to start again. Something new; A new creature and new rules.

And you're heart couldn't take that.

"Oh, looks like the creature is hungry... maybe that pigeon we fed it earlier wasn't quite enough. What do you think, Y/N?"

Another terrified scream is ripped out of you when the monster throws its teeth around one of the bars, horribly tilting its large head, and desperately tries to rip it out of place- a huge, grotesque, rough, cat-like tongue salivating over the metal and ginormous, thick, snake-like incisors scraping against it. No no NO!-

A soft chuckle comes from Charles over the speaker, as you slide down to the ground; Fear turning you cold now. You just watch the monstrous beast struggle and fight to tear you apart and enjoy you, heart beating your chest so hard that hurts.

"I sure hope you're thinking about what you did, Y/N my love. Otherwise this will all be for nothing."

~

You're fast asleep when Charles opens up your cage again, having lured the creature back into its cell- he'll deal with it later. You're always his first priority.

When he gently picks you up in his arms, you stir the slightest bit; An adorably weak little whimper escaping you as you willingly relax into his arms and the familiar scent of his old, leather jacket. "Uh uh uh... sleep, my dear. You did well... you've earned it."

"I'm so... so sorry Charles... forgive... me... " Charles smirks at that, you begging for his forgiveness even in your sleep. That method - that beast,- works, he sees. This reaction is quite perfect; Exactly what he's been wanting.

He'll keep it mind for next time- because, with a free spirit like you, there will no doubt be a next time unfortunately for you...

Charles walks you to your quarters and lowers you gently onto your bed- and presses a gentle kiss to your soft, sleeping lips. "Sweet dreams."

Human!Hopper:

I've been dancing with the devil; I love that he pretends to care. - Forget, Marina and the Diamonds

Your eyes are blown open wide, and glued to the bloodied corpse on the ground in front of you. You don't know what to think... much less what to say as Hopper wipes off his knuckles with a rag, before dropping it on the poor carcasses face; And turning to you, the blazé expression on his face never slipping- not even a little bit.

Parting your lips then is the easy part- talking, not so much. The words come out a whisper, and underwhelmingly lacking in emotion when compared to the horror brewing inside. They're just... quiet. "... I didn't mean for this... "

Hopper looks slowly, uncaringly, back to the man he just killed outside the bar and brought you out to see - you remember how he had joked that he had something cool to show you outside, flirted with you even, wrapping hi arm around you and making you think maybe he was going to kiss you... but then immediately he stepped away from you when you came up to the body. Leaving you cold and alone, and shell-shocked when your eyes fell on the poor, crumpled heap, - , then back to you; Shrugging. "Sure you did."

The words surprise you, and you quickly shake your head; Eyes still glued to the... to what was once... a man. "No, I... "

"Yes, you did." His voice gets that much tenser, almost angry. Your eyes snap up to his, round like a doe's. He sighs as if they affect him which you know they don't, because if they really did then he wouldn't say these things, and gives his head a shake. "You know how you make me feel... you've gotta know, that if I see you with another guy... Something bad's gonna happen." Raising his hands, Hopper shakes his head. "Its outta my hands, Y/N."

Tears fill your eyes. "No- "

Before you can really speak up, though, tell him how insane he is- Hopper's talking again; His voice getting louder in order to drown you out. He genuinely sound angry at you, and it shocks you, making you feel small as you fight to not back away from him. Theirs a fire in his dull eyes that only flickers to life when he's pissed. "Oh now don't you even think... about giving me that freedom of will bull." Blood from the corpse bleeds over the ground towards your feet, but you're too busy staring in horror, at your lover. "Do you know how hard it is for me to see you with others? To not lock you up all the time? You should be thanking me; I'm being nice to you."

"But Tarrant- he- " Hopper's eyes narrow at your use of the man's name, but you gather your courage and go on. "He didn't do anything! I love you, I want you- isn't that enough!?" God- damnit! Isn't that enough!?

Hopper shakes his head, eyes dull again. "Clearly... not." No.

Its not.

As you're thinking, wondering how you got to this point, how in the world you could have missed the signs with Hopper, he comes up to you and takes your jaw in one powerful... brutal, hand; Pulling you to look up at him. God... the smell of iron is still on his skin. "... I'm sorry... its not my fault you hooked me." He tells you quietly, the slightest - fakest, - bit of sympathy across his features.

You look back into his golden eyes in defiance with terrible glare in your gaze; Peaceful resolve snapping like a bone under intense pressure.

All the sympathy and then some disappears in an instant with the next words, causing your heart to thud. "But its going to keep happening. So watch yourself, Y/N."

Human!Chick Hicks: 

Forget Prince Charming- go for the Wolf. He can see you better, hear you better, and eat you better. - Pinterest

I shouldn't have done that. Is all you can think, slipping out of your old childhood bedroom and back out to the party. That was a stupid, stupid mistake. Fuck- you can still feel it. You can still feel it, and you want more of it! How can you be this way.

Kinky is one thing- but letting the disgusting man that almost killed your father take off your clothes in the bedroom you grew up in!?? With your parents, and everyone they've ever loved, just down stairs??? Celebrating their anniversary!?

That's entirely different, and its not something you're willing to 'own'. Not ever. Even if, now that you're down stairs again and you see Chick drinking a beer and loudly telling a joke to some other ex racers - racers from his time, - with the vitality of someone who's far too happy... you just want to drag him away again. Feel his stupid moustache between your legs, push him and see how many rounds he can really go for before you're just warming a soft cock... God!-

You wince and quickly turn away, joining a conversation with some of your mother's friends. They ask you how college is going, what classes you're taking- do you have a boyfriend???

You give them your answers easily, playing the sweet daughter card that you're so used to- your parents are some of the best people a lot of people know, and you're supposed to be no different. People think you're no different. You thought you were no different!!

... But now you're thinking maybe not. Not when you have to answer yes, you do have a boyfriend, whilst till thinking about Chick muffling your moans with his mouth 5 minutes ago. Sure, you and your boyfriend are taking a break currently due to school stress- but that doesn't really help your guilt.

"Hey, hey, ladies! What's this I hear about little Y/N havin' a boyfriend??" The sound of Chick's voice so close behind you makes your blood run ice cold suddenly, and you turn with eyes slightly-too-wide just in time to catch him throwing his arm over your shoulders; Face rearing in too close to yours. You can smell the beer on his breath, and your own perfume. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck- "You old enough for that, sweetheart?? Does your daddy know, huh?"

"Oh Chick, leave the girl alone." One of the women rolls her eyes, the others sighing and grimacing at the bastard touching you like that. Oh, you think, if only they knew how he touched you before. Vivid visions of your escapade, his pelvis grinding into yours, flash through your mind and you have to fight with yourself not to get lost.

Chick doesn't let you go because one of Linda Weathers friends told him to, predictably. So, you have to talk to him. "I'm 23 now, Chick, I can do whatever I want to, actually."

He just gives a smug smirk, thinking about how he managed to get you into bed probably despite your whole family hating him, and nods. "... Sure, sweetie. So! This boy toy of yours- do we like him? Do your parents approve, eh?"

"He- " He's perfectly nice. "They like him." They really, really do. You remember, the next time you saw them after you introduced him to them, your father hadn't been able to stop talking about him. He even gave you a DVD to hand on to him, something they'd bonded over.

"But you're bored out of your damn wits, right?" At this point Chick's grinning wolfishly at you in that gross leering way and he's not talking with the group anymore- just you. Its terrifying, its making your heartbeat go absolutely berserk in your chest as you look around for your parents. Where are they? Can they see you? Can anyone tell that you can still taste this despicable old man's cum on your tongue and in the back of your throat??

"No, he's sweet!"

Chick takes a swig of beer right in front of your face, finally looking away from you. You let out a relieved breath, one you had been holding to an extent. "... Right."

He doesn't sound convinced. He shouldn't. After all, you never would've fucked him if your boyfriend satisfied you. As you're feeling sick over that small fact, the fact that your lovely boyfriend couldnt ever make you cum as awfully hard as Chick did not 10 minutes ago, he rolls his arm off your shoulders- rubs your lower back, instead. Your eyes blow open wide.

Before you can decide on the best course of action, you shove his hand off of you. At this point, the other ladies had started a new conversation without you, stepping away and leaving you to fend Chick off yourself, so you're able to hiss at him- through your teeth. "Do not touch me like that."

"You know what, baby, you're sending me some mixed signals here. I mean," He lets out a terrible laugh, full of narcissism and cockiness. Its very familiar to you, you grew up with it practically, and now it reverberates through your eardrums like an annoying song you cant get out of your head. "I can still feel your little mouth around my fingers-- and now I hear you're hiding a little boyfriend back at school?? Wonder what he'd think if he found out about what we did."

"We're on a break," You defend, fighting not to cross your arms and show the whole party something unpleasant is going on here- more so then anything involving Chick Hicks already is.

"Oh, why? Pecker too puny for you?"

"No Chick, gross- "

"Alright, so he's not willing to shove his tongue down there." When you flinch, remembering the first time your boyfriend told you he would never put his mouth on you, how disgusted he had sounded- how disgusting he had made you feel for just expecting to receive after you had already given, Chick lets out an understanding hmmm sound. "Yep. I thought so. Don't worry," Here, he winks. And you feel that horrible, twisted lust fill you up again. "While your back home, I'll give you your fill- Promise."

... The thought has your heart dropping. He means that what you two did in your bedroom wasn't it; Wasn't the end. He wanted to do it again.

And you want him to do it again. You cant deny it. The slick between your thighs wont let you.

... Fuck how are you going to stop this.

Human!Lots-O-Huggin’ Bear:

Manipulate: Control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly or unscrupulously. - Oxford Languages, On Google

The way that Lotso touches you is not right. He's not your father, not your husband, not even really your friend- so why does he think its okay to put his hands on you? Every time that he wraps his arm around your waist and leans into the side of your face, practically your neck, to say something just between the two of you, like a secret, you just want to tell him that-

That this is inappropriate. That you're uncomfortable.

... But just as quickly as it happens, he lets you go again and he's laughing that good-natured, trustworthy, Lotso laugh and you second guess yourself. Maybe you're wrong. He's just a sweet old man, trying to make you feel included.

But then why is it just you. Why do you get all this attention from him? He doesn't touch anyone else like that-

You take a deep breath and move on every time, shutting out those thoughts, the ones that say something is off here, that say the way that man acts is not okay.

At times like these- you wish you hadn't done that.

~

"Y/N! We havent had a moment alone for a hot minute- why dontcha come with me?"

"Oh, that's okay sir. I was just going to go help Ken with- "

"Aw, don't worry about him." One warm brown eye gives you a wink, that should have been comforting but really just felt like like trap. "I'll vouch for ya- come on, now. We'll have tea."

That's how it started, with an attempted escape. You should have known the rest was going to be just as bad. But you followed him off... and he thanks you, for that.

Here you are, sitting across from Lotso all alone, a cup of tea in front of you and he cant help from reaching over and patting your hand with his, affectionately on top of the table. Your pretty eyes widen in surprise at the overly gesture, made intimate by the very isolated setting, and he knows you're uncomfortable... it just doenst matter. He's glad you have the sense to stay put.

He could make your life around here reaal difficult, if you didnt play along.

As he speaks, he catches your eyes flickering over to the door behind him, yearning to get out. That's alright, he thinks... as long as you don't get up. "Now that I've gotcha alone, darlin'- I wanted to ask ya something."

"Oh... what?" Your force your eyes back on him and he grins for a moment.

Then he slowly furrows his eyebrows, sets his jaw and tightens his hand around yours, setting it firmly over the top of your hand now- like a lifeline, almost. He wants this to work- and it will. He's good at this. "I want you to be honest with me- this is a safe place, and you trust me... right?"

You blink, and slowly nod. "Oh, uh... of course." As expected. He's y'all's papa bear, after all! Ha, ha.... Of course you trust him.

"Has Ken... been inappropriate, with you?" Lotso asks this in such a way- just so- so he looks like a concerned father-figure. Uncomfortable by the idea, like he's nervous to even be having this conversation but must for your good.

Which he does. he does need to have this conversation for your own good- after all, if you went off and started something with Ken... then Lotso would have to do something he might truly regret. Its better this way.

You eat it right up, jumping to shock immediately. Your adorable mouth falling open, and eyes going as big as anything. "What!?"

"Now, now, now, calm down darlin'... I'm just asking... It wouldn't be the first time he's made one of our sweet lil' young ones uncomfortable, and I just want you to know I'm happy to talk to 'im, if that's the case- "

"N-no!" Lotso watches you think, thoughts like where is this coming from?? What has Ken done? To who?? racing through your poor little head. "He hasn't- no! Ken's been... Ken's been nice!" You're quick to defend, but don't look so sure anymore. This is turning your world upside down. Since you got here, its hasn't been a secret at all that Ken's been your closest friend- He's helped you get used to the place when Lotso couldn't do so himself,, helped you settle in! Its only natural that news as... sensitive, as this, might startle you.

Lotso watches your eyes fall down to the tea in front of you, devastated at the possibility, and takes the moment you're not looking at him to congratulate himself. It worked perfectly- you'll be leaning on him in no time.

Lotso lifts his hands to other side of his head in surrender, then, a good natured chuckle slipping out. "Okay, okay, I believe ya... " When he lowers his hands again, he restrains himself from reaching out to hold any part of you again, forcing himself to play the well-meaning old fella. Not the dirty old man you've turned him into- not that you really notice his efforts, that is. With all those bad thoughts swarming around in your mind... "... just be careful, okay honey?"

"I just cant imagine... that Ken- "

"Well," Another chuckle. "He does have a history." A history!? Your eyes flick back up to Lotso's, and get swallowed up in the pools of chocolate... trusting him completely. "But its not really something for you to worry about," He gives a stern look, and pats your hand. You flinch. "I wont let aaanything bad happen to ya."

"... thank you... "

Lotso watches you think for a few moments, then, 'giving you time'... thinking, that was easier then he anticipated. You really are the sweetest thing, aren't you? Ken aint never hurt a fly- but he was getting a bit close to you for the old timer's comfort. That wouldn't do, so... all Lotso did was feed you a little white lie. Didn't hurt no one, just... reminded you who you could really rely on.

"... C'mon, now, sweetheart. You just need a biiig hug."

Randall Boggs: 

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife. - Take Me To Church, Hozier

You don't know how many times you've told Randall to fuck off at this point. It seems every time Sully leaves you alone in this damn factory, that slimy creep takes it as an opportunity to come onto you. How many times do you have to tell this asshole that you're in love with Sully, and that you have no interest in him!?

The count is in the double digits, its ridiculous.

Celia's the only other person who knows what Randall's like with you, and she's suggested plenty of times that you go tell Waternoose- or even Sully- but you haven't. You... cant.

... You're a grown up, and you can handle it on your own. Its not like Randall is dangerous- so there's no need to worry Sully, or make a big thing of it at all... You don't want the attention. It can only be bad.

Sully would be sweet, and want to make sure that you feel safe and comfortable, and he wouldn't tell anyone else, if you only asked him to, you know that... but he doesn't need this. He doesn't need the stress of a fiancé with a pervert stalker. You wouldn't do that to him.

So, you act normal. You push on. You can tell Randall to beat it a couple of times a week- no problem.

~

"... Y/N~ " Oh, fucking- As soon as that creepy voice settles in between your shoulder blades, you know you have to quicken up. Get in your paperwork, put the door back, and go home. "Is it a coincidence, you doing late-night paperwork tonight, when you know I'm doing mine??... Or more?"

"Its coincidence, Randall." You sigh, shaking your head without even looking up from the file you're scribbling in. Finish paperwork, send door back, return files to Rox, go home.

"Sure... " He doesn't sound convinced, more smug and it irks you, but you force yourself not to take the bait. Finish paperwork, send door back, return files to Rox, go home- "Y/N!" Suddenly Randall's hands slam into the table in front of you, making you jump and look up; Eyes wide and looking directly into his, as he's leaning in over you far too close. Oh, ugh- "We're all alone... " He takes a menacing peer around, a hair-raising smirk spreading across his face. "Don't tell me you're plannin' to ignore me... "

You nod. "Yah. That's the plan. I have to get home, Sully's making dinner for us- " As soon as you mention Sully, Randall's eyes roll- deeply, and a groan slips out of him.

"Alright... listen Y/N." How many times can this weasel say your name?? You hate the sound of your name on his tongue, he says it... he says it, like he has every right to. Like he's close to you. Like its his to say... like Sully does. You're barely even acquaintances. He's a freak and he shouldn't be allowed to utter your name; Not like that, not at all. Carefully he leans in closer to your face, and you know something bad is about to be said; The hairs on the back of your neck tingling. "... I have certain information about you... you might not want it out."

"... " For a moment, you freeze. He couldn't know... no. He couldn't know that. Its in the past, and its buried under college credits. So you force yourself to just roll your eyes, and sigh- though Randall doenst give up that smirk. That obnoxious, i know something smirk. In fact it only gets worse, more sinister. "What do you think know, Randall?"

"Oh, you cant riddle it out yourself?? Okay then- " He leans down another couple inches, his breath on your face now as you fight to just stay put. Guilty people flinch, guilty people flinch!- innocent people stay still. Calm- "... How you got through college."

Your eyes widen, your heart thuds. "N- "

"I mean, I don't have a problem with your red light past Y/N- but Sully, might." Randall goes on, standing up straighter again now just to let the whole thing sink in.

... Randall knows what you did for tuition...

He doesn't stop talking, though, which is all you want. Just for him to shut. up. You don't want to think about that time- "Golden boy would lose his mind... which brings me to my proposition."

Your stomach turns, glaring at Randall. "... what."

He's all-too-pleased to answer, giving a little hum. "Don't worry, you don't have to sleep with me... " The dig gets you just where he wanted wanted it to, it makes you flinch and feel nauseous. "But I will need you to date me. Drop your line backer boy toy and publicly announce you wanted me- maybe hold hands a bit like the cutest little couple, kiss me on the cheek... Whatever you think'd help people to see you actually into me."

"... why!?"

"Because Sully has too much." Randall snaps, one long fingered hand clenching tightly as a deep frown creases his features. "And I'd like nothing more than to take it all. Starting with you."

... Starting with me.... Because I'm easy.

"You're a freak, and insane. I'm not doing this- " Gathering your stuff against your chest, you get up from the table and attempt to get out of the situation, not be alone in this huge empty factory with Randall, but he's faster then you and cuts off your path. You're nose-to-nose.

"... If you don't, I'll tell Sully about everything. I have proof- a contact. One of your old benefactors actually, and trust me... they have some pretty convincing stories about you."

The fact that Randall has heard stories about that time... the things you did... makes you sick. You cant imagine Sully hearing them. You cant... he cant... He wouldn't look at you the same. It would break your heart.

"I... "

"So what'll it be, Y/N? Tear the dumb bear's heart to shreds or let me explain to him what a cheap whore you are. Clocks ticking."

[raspberrysmoon]

I didn’t know if since she technically had no alignment it meant that she was ALL of their blorbos like in her cannon or none at at all, so I went with the former!!

time for me to list design elements

pokey + wiggly rubber bands. in cannon they’re the ones who’re most interested in her (minus tinky), so they’re more prominent! the other lords get their respective hairclips

her hair has long since grown out. only a small amount of teal remains, the rest being her grey streaked brown hair. and since she doesn’t have an undercut, it’s a lot harder to keep it down. instead, she does what she did when she was nine: put it into pigtails. sides, the lords like making her feel young. it keeps her powerless (*cough cough* TWS being described as 5-9 *cough cough*).

a childish, froufrou dress, with Mary Janes to go with it. I think the lords like dressing her up like a doll. Kai hates the dress.

top of the dress has a sort of blue sheen styled to look like some shit pouring down her dress

green tentacles climb up her sleeves and socks

her dress has the same trim I put on the watcher world hammer

a pink ribbon goes around her waist. Presumably a bow in the back.

the base color of the dress is yellow.

tiny clocks act as shoe buckles.

that’s all!!! I hope you like it :3

OOOOOOHHHHHKAYYYYYY THIS IS MAKING ME INSANE

first of all. obsessed with the pigtails. everything also really works (though i know you dont know her story LMAO) for how she's played throughout the chapters shes in. max and [someone else] have sort of taken on guidance roles for her, her appearance plays well to it all :3 funny how well our thoughts for her align

the clock buckles are perfect. no notes 100/10

the tentacles are SO fucking cool also. catch me in the club putting tentacles on people now

you make me bite at the bars of my cage