#i want there to be content to froth at the mouth over!!!

[romainlettusdinnerparty]

i cannot find a single fucking play about queer community surrounding the specific experiences of lesbians and other queer women actually gonna sob. why is it i can find like a million and one plays about gay men that dont just center on romance and not one (1!!!) about gay women. the patriarchy is alive and well i see

[iida-zine]

Are you guys making another pocket planner? Because I’m looking at 2025 and afraid I won’t have my boy with me :(

Hey anon!!

Since our interest check #s were far lower than we'd hoped, we weren't able to have as large a team as planned and therefore did not do a planner.

If Mod Atlass's schedule is able to clear up in the next couple of months, she may put together a separate project just for a planner/calendar ^^

[fae-of-fiction]

✧ ass, boobs, or thighs? — they’re asked the important question; oliver aiku, michael kaiser, alexis ness, nagi seishiro, kunigami rensuke, and shidou ryusei

✧ note: i’m so excited to start writing/posting for the bllk fandom! i won’t blab too much here, but i do want to say thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy! <3

✧ word count: 0.7k

✧ tags/warnings: fem!reader, sexual/suggestive content, language (excuse my potty mouth), some body descriptors, allusions to chubby!reader (but nothing too definitive), not proofread, my writing :,)

it’s quite bold of you to assume that oliver aiku would choose just one — he loves all three, as well as some unmentioned options. aiku just loves your body period, and he worships every part of it equally. he worships it with his hands, lips, teeth, tongue — everything. aiku just loves to squeeze you all over and taste your skin, loves to feel the softness against his palms as he gropes you roughly. depending on his mood, he may put extra focus and attention on one particular part of your body, such as your nipples or your hips. but for the most part, aiku wants to simply feel your entire body, which can make foreplay a rather extensive and pleasant affair.

michael kaiser is the pure embodiment of an ass man. there’s nothing more stimulating to him than the luscious curve of your cheeks, especially when you’re wearing some tight jeans or leggings. the mere sight of that jiggle is enough to have him bricked up instantly. ass eater, bottom feeder, globe prober — kaiser wears these titles as a badge of honor, proof of his obsession with your ass. expect kaiser to touch it at any chance he gets, whether it be via a slap, squeeze or graze. if he could, kaiser would fall to his knees and bury his face into it — he simply loves your ass too much.

meet the dark meat extraordinaire, alexis ness. he loves the deadly combo of ass and thighs — with just a slight more emphasis on thighs. the thicker they are, the better in his opinion. ness loves to grab by the handful, as well as sink his teeth into the tender flesh and hear you squeal. but his favorite thing is to have them caging his head, squeezing and trembling as he devours the heaven between your legs. he wants you to completely suffocate him with them — who needs oxygen, anyway?

tits, tits, tits. big tits, little tits, tits that are right in the middle — nagi seishiro loves them all. the poor guy tries his hardest to pay attention to what you’re saying, but he can’t help the way his eyes fall to your chest; especially when you decide to don a tank top or low cut shirt. he’s always overcome with the urge to cup them in his hands, and in most cases, he caves to his intrusive thoughts — even in front of others. when in private (or otherwise shielded from the eyes of others), nagi doesn’t hesitate to pop your bra and lift your shirt up so he can slip a nipple into his mouth. he simply loves that shit — your boobs are almost always littered with bites and hickeys, and it isn’t uncommon for your nipples to be sore from nagi’s habit of sucking them.

kunigami rensuke isn’t ashamed to admit just how weak he is for your hips and thighs. he absolutely adores the curve of your hips, and finds the most satisfaction in squeezing the meat of your thighs in his large hands. no matter what he’s doing, kunigami’s focus is immediately captured when you do something that causes your shirt to slip up, and he nearly froths at the mouth when he sees the skin of your hips teasing the hem of your jeans. he has to physically restrain himself from falling to his knees in front of you to worship it. it’s the perfect mixture of cute and sexy to see, and it drives him absolutely wild every time.

picking a favorite part of your body is simply impossible for shidou ryusei. to him, it’s the same as asking whether chocolate or vanilla ice cream is the superior flavor — it’s all in the eye of the beholder, after all. and for shidou’s beholder eye, your whole body is erogenous. every dip and curve is sultry and irresistible. it’s not uncommon for shidou to have a hand on you at all times; sometimes it’s merely resting against you, but other times it’s squeezing or pinching. he’s got quite the habit of groping you subconsciously simply because he loves the feeling of your body in his hands — or against him. when getting down and dirty, shidou makes it his goal to touch, kiss, lick and bite every inch of your body. he wants to taste and feel you in your entirety — no matter how long it may take him to do so.

comments, likes, and/or reblogs are not required but are greatly appreciated! <333

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

God ever since reading A Gilded Cage I cant get the thought out of my head of a part 2 where Reader doesn't see Jason for a few days after the revelation. Like maybe he thinks he's being kind and giving us some time to process, maybe he's on his angst again, or maybe some outside factor has taken his attention so the only time he's able to visit is while we're asleep.

And the whole night of the reveal feels like a fever dream when we wake up but there's a blanket draped over us and a fuzzy little kitten purring up a storm on our chest (in my heart his name is Bean (short for Toebean)), so we're at least kind of sure it happened. But as the time passes with no sign of Jason our certainty begins to wane and until we finally get fed up and write on the notepad the first thing we've asked for since that night: "You."

Or something like that idek okay I've been over here clawing at my walls frothing at the mouth I never really even liked ak!Jason before reading your stuff and now I'm feral for him and its all your fault and I'm not even mad about it

A Glimmering Collar

AKA Part Two of this series. Ahh, nonnie, you literally cooked with this. I love when my fics inspire people enough to keep thinking on them! Seriously, ty for dropping these ideas in my inbox cause I had nothing going on in my brain for a part two initially. Hope you enjoy!

~2.6k words

You wake up to something tickling your nose. Your body feels heavy, your mind even more so. Nothing in you is ready to open your eyes, to face the fact that last night could all have been a dream. That he isn't– that was just a dream.

Something soft flicks your nose again, and you force your eyes open. You blink hard once. Then twice. It's a kitten. It's tiny, and it's sitting by your face. Every few seconds, its tail sways and brushes your nose.

Oh. You sit up slowly, trying not to frighten the small thing. It looks at you contently over its shoulder and meows. The kitten stretches as you stare at it, then plops itself directly on the blanket resting over your lap.

Huh. There's a blanket you definitely don't remember grabbing sprawled over your legs. You carefully reach down to pet the kitten's head. Your heart melts a little when it nuzzles your fingers and purrs.

You look around the room slowly. Nothing else looks different. The notepad is still in place, but the kitten and blanket all point to one thing. Last night was real. Jason is alive. Jason is the Arkham Knight.

You're trying to wrap your brain around that when the door flies open, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"Good morning!!" A flurry of voice call from the doorway. Your eyes widen as three brightly dressed people strut their way into your apartment, "Are you ready for your shopping trip, hun?"

"My– excuse me?" You stumble out, tucking the kitten to your chest as you stand.

They giggle, and one of them steps forward, "Your shopping trip, sweetie! And spa day, of course. Oh, ha, we haven't even been introduced, have we? I'm Krystal with a K, she's Destini with an i and he's Robbi also with an i."

Robbi huffs and walks up to you to pet your kitten, "Why can't you ever introduce Destini second? She can be Destini also with an i, ya know."

The other girl walks up to you as well and picks affectionately at your clothes, "Because it's alphabetical that way, Robbi. Now you better go get dressed, we have brunch reservations and mimosa plans!"

"I– sorry? What?" You ask, eyes darting between the three of them. Whatever this is, you can't keep up. You've barely processed Jason kidnapped you, and now you're supposed to go get a massage and drinks?

"The boss wants you to go out," a flat voice cuts in. You're the only one that stiffens at the sight of two large men stepping through the door.

Krystal speaks up, "We're here to make sure you have a good time! And Mack and John are here to keep us safe!"

"Mack and John," You echo weakly.

"Your body guards, silly," Destini chirps, ushering you to your room. She plucks the kitten from your hands, "Now get dressed! Wear something nice!"

You stare at the door as she shuts it. What just happened? You hear them chattering happily in the kitchen, idly talking about pregaming your shopping trip.

Your whole mind is a mess, and you sluggishly get ready, thoughts whirling. You've barely talked to soul since you were kidnapped, and now you have five new names to remember, a kitten, and a day out.

You're not exactly sure if you should be unsettled or grateful at how quickly Jason worked to get you what you asked for. By the time you've opened your bedroom door, Krystal, Destini and Robbi are passing around a flask, and playfully trying to get your 'bodyguards' to drink it.

You wonder what they must think of all this. Who they think you are. You're struck with the realization that Jason must be paying them to entertain you today.

You don't get to linger on the thought before Robbi hooked his arm with yours, dragging you towards the door, "Let's gooo, the brunch place we're going to does the best pineapple mimosas. Or cherry, if that's your thing."

"Wait," Mack– or John, you're not exactly sure which one is which– stops you, "Boss wants you to wear this."

The girls and Robbi coo in awe when Mack opens a box, revealing a glittery, jaw-dropping choker. You waver at the sight of it. It's not that it doesn't match what you're wearing. You'd dressed up like Destini suggested, but it feels like some kind of trap.

You reluctantly pick up the necklace, eyeing how it catches the light, "Is it– are sure it's safe to wear this out?" Safety isn't really what you're concerned about at the moment.

You're more worried about the crushing weight that this means more than you understand.

John nods once, "There won't be any problems."

Krystal happily plucks the necklace from your fingers, and before you have time to argue, she drapes the necklace around your throat. "It's beautiful, hun. Just like you. Let's go get you something to eat," her voice is soft, measured, and full of so much understanding it makes you want to cry.

You don't know much they know, but when she hooks her arm with yours to guide you out the door, you have a feeling there's more awareness than their bubbly attitudes let on.

The day ends up being wonderful. Being around people, out under the sun (the sun Gotham does get), was rejuvenating. You had fun, joked, smiled, and for a day, it was almost like you didn't have a prison cell to go back to.

The food was delicious, the spa relaxing, and you didn't have to carry back a single bag. Krystal had flashed a black card at every payment, every place ever could want to shop at, reassuring you it's all been taken care of.

But the time you've collapsed on the couch, exhausted but content, the uneasy feelings from this morning are gone.

You settle on the cushions to wait for Jason. To thank him for listening or to yell at him for still keeping you here, you're not exactly sure yet.

But he doesn't come, you fall asleep in your expensive necklace and pretty clothes with one hand petting your kitten. He doesn't come the next day either, at least not while you're awake, but Krystal, Destini, and Robbi do.

Your friends, the people being paid to entertain you are nice, perfect even. They're exactly what you would have asked for.

Your kitten is perfect too, it cuddles with you at night and nuzzles under your chin after you're left alone, when the unease finds its way back to you.

It's been days since you've seen him. It's starting to feel like a lifetime. You know he comes back after you fall asleep, he moves things. You think it's his way of showing that he listened, that he came back because you asked.

The notepad, the one you haven't written on since that night, shifts closer to you on the glass table if you sleep on the couch.

The glimmering choker gets pulled out of the drawer every time you try to put it away. Your kitten has a growing collection of toys and things to climb on.

It's obvious he's visiting, so why won't he let you see him? Day five of dancing around each other breaks you. You want to see him, want to talk to him, and understand. You want Jason.

Your hand shakes a little, when you go to write on the notepad, and when you wake up the next morning, the paper is blank again.

You wait. You wait some more. All day you wait for him. No one else comes. It's strangely quiet, with just you and your kitten. You've just about given up, collapsed in your bed, when the glowing whites of his helmet catch your attention.

You sit up quickly and throw your legs off the bed as you stare into the doorway, "You came."

"Did you mean it," he asks, any emotion he's feeling hidden by the aggravating modulator.

"Mean what," You question, standing off the bed to walk closer to him, "Will you take the mask off?"

He doesn't move for a moment, just takes in the sight of you. The silence that drags almost makes you regret the question, but he carefully pulls off his helmet, "What you wrote. That you wanted me."

"I– yeah, Jason. I haven't– it's been days since I saw you," You only notice mid sentence that his hand is reaching for your face, it makes your voice waver. "You never answered any of my questions," You finish weakly.

His hand stills and he drops it, "Questions. That's what you wanted?"

You nod a little, searching his face for any hint of what he's feeling, but he gives nothing away.

He sighs softly, and looks away, adjusting his helmet under his arm. You think he might look disappointed, "I can't give you the answers you're looking for."

"Why not," You question softly, worried to push him away.

Jason turns his focus back to you, "I just need you to stay here. Please," he sighs out your name, and his hand twitches as if to touch you, "Don't fight me on this."

"That's not fair," You mumble, "Why am I here, Jason? You know I would have listened if you came to talk to me instead of– this."

Silence falls again, and he steps past you into your room. He sets his helmet on your dresser and picks up the choker resting on the wooden surface, "I wish you would wear this. I picked it out for you."

"Jason," You start, tracking his movements.

"I know," he cuts you off, "but I told you, you don't need to understand anything." You stiffen when he steps back towards you and guides you to turn around.

The air leaves your lungs as his gloves brush over your skin. He sets the necklace around your throat, and even after it rests heavy against your skin, his touch lingers.

"You just need to stay here. It's safe. I've given you everything you've asked for, and everything you haven't," Jason says softly, stepping out from behind you. His gaze lingers on your neck for a moment, and the stifling, unexplainable feeling sets back into your gut.

Your words stick in your throat. There's a sense of danger, one that doesn't make sense. Jason wouldn't hurt you. Not the Jason you know. But is this the Jason you know? The thought makes you want to tear the choker from your skin and throw it at him.

"It feels like a collar," You say quietly, and your breath hitches when his gaze snaps go yours, "I mean, it's pretty. Really. But, it feels– like it's more," You stumble out.

He nods slowly, and he doesn't stop himself from touching you this time. His fingers trace the choker, linger over your collarbones, brush along your pulse, "Maybe it is."

You blink at him, every thought flying from your brain, "What?"

He hums softly, hooking a finger under the shiny jewels to draw you closer, "Does that scare you? Knowing that you can't leave? Knowing that no matter how pretty these are, it's just another way to keep you?"

"You wouldn't hurt me," you say instead, it sounds like you believe it, but you're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

"I don't want to," He admits, fingers leaving your throat to trail up your jaw, "but I probably could."

"I don't believe that. I remember–" He tuts, tapping your cheek. Your heart drops when you realize he's mirroring where his own brand is.

"I'm not what you remember," he says firmly, before whispering your name, "I'm not that Jason. Not really."

"Then who are you," You ask, even though you don't want to know the answer. You want to pretend he's still something you know.

His eyes dart over your face, then back down to the necklace, "I'm still Jason. But I'm also the Arkham Knight."

"What does that mean," You push, reach up to grab his wrist, demanding his attention, demanding real answers.

"It means that you stay. It means that I give you what you want. Everything and anything except leaving," he says, voice lowering to something kinder, gentler, "it'll make sense eventually. You'll be happy here. Safe."

"Will that make you happy?" You ask, fingers tightening on his wrist. Half of you wants to pull him away, stop him from tracing patterns over your cheek, but the other part of you wants to press his hand closer.

Something flicks in his eyes at your words, "Yes."

"Will it keep you safe?" You murmur, eyes locked on his.

He doesn't answer, clenching and unclenching his jaw for a moment, "Safety is an option I don't have."

"It could be, if you wanted it," You say, dropping his wrist. It must be true. Even with all the secrets he's keeping, his evasive disappearing act, he could take off the armor. Leave behind the new symbol engraved over his chest.

He laughs a little and swipes his thumb under your eye, "I'm glad that you don't understand. It's good, that they didn't twist you into something unrecognizable."

"Understand?" You prompt, unsettled by his laughter.

"That they need to pay. All of them do," he smiles a little, it's a mockery of the one you remember. Jason traces the choker one last time before stepping back.

"You're leaving," You say, not a question, a statement of fact. He's leaving, without explaining anything again.

"I am," he affirms, moving to grab his helmet.

"I want you to stay," You breathe out and he freezes in place.

He exhales softly and faces you again, "You don't know what you're asking."

"I do. I want you to stay," You repeat, reaching out to push his helmet back towards the dresser.

"And then what?" He asks lowly, a warning, "What do you expect to happen?"

It makes you waver, "I– I don't know. But it's what I want."

It's another long moment of nothing before he answers, gesturing towards the bed, "Go to sleep."

"You'll stay?"

He nods at your question, unceremoniously dragging the chair from your desk to your bedside.

"Is that going to be comfortable–" You begin, settling yourself in the bed.

"You're overthinking it," he mumbles, waving at you to lay down. You do, watching as your kitten jumps into his lap, curling up like this is something that happens all the time. (You have the feeling it is) "Have you named him," he asks quietly.

"The kitten? Mm, no. Wanted you to," You say softly, carefully not to unsettle either of them.

"I wouldn't be good at it," Jason protests, eyes flicking between you and the kitten.

"I don't mind," You murmur, "anything's better than 'kitten'."

He pauses, so quiet and still you think he won't answer, "Bean," he mumbles, reluctant as the newly appointed Bean cuddles into his armor.

You smile, "Bean's a good name."

He doesn't answer, seemingly engrossed with watching the kitten.

You take him in for another moment, memorizing his face before closing your eyes. It's not an accident that you leave your palm open and face up by the side of the bed.

There's no more pleasantries exchanged, no sweet goodnights or the gentle touches against your face you've grown used to. But just as you finally start to drift off, as darkness finally draws you to rest, a warm, rough hand weaves itself into yours and squeezes.

Part Three

[holybibly]

♡ℌ𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔤𝔦𝔯𝔩 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡♡

Genre: smut, cam boy!Au

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: StrawberryBoy_Hwa sent you a private message:

Congratulations you Shy_Kitty21 you have won a private video call with me.

Or where the universe crashes and you masturbate under the careful guidance of an adoring cam model Park Seonghwa.

WARNING: Cam Boy!Seonghwa masturbation, nipple play, nipple piercing, fingering, pet names, spit kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, cum eating, overstimulation and more.

A/N: I can't help it, Seonghwa drives me crazy and I like it.

It's something between a prompt for a full-length work and a one-shot, but I'm not quite sure to be honest. It's all very rambling, sorry if it's not quite what you're used to seeing from me.

I could make a complete work out of this in 2-3 parts if you want. Let me know in the comments if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, so if you think that your love and attention to my work will go by the wayside, you're wrong, I follow the blog very closely and I see all of your marks and comments.

Updates on my work will be a separate post. As always, private messages and questions are open. Feel free to write me about anything.

Have fun, bunnies. Love you all!

"Touch yourself, kitten; I want to see how you caress yourself." The voice is deep and velvety, rough around the edges, and it makes you want to obey without hesitating. A mixture of anticipation and embarrassment takes hold of your entire body and flows through your veins with frothing excitement. Your hand runs over your naked breasts. The nipples are pink and swollen.

It's never in your wildest dreams that you'd be so openly naked in front of a complete stranger. On any other day, you'd burn with shame just thinking about it. But the sight of his hard-dripping cock in front of you makes you more confident and seductive in the show you put on for him. As the pad of your thumb brushes over the hard bud, a soft moan of pleasure escapes your bitten lips.

To be honest, you couldn't call Seonghwa a complete stranger. He's a well-known сam boу, StrawberryBoy_Hwa, with hundreds of thousands of followers on Instagram and Twitter, not to mention the huge number of followers on his live streams. You've been watching him for months now, but you've always stayed in the shadows—too shy to leave a comment or make a dirty request. In that time, you've had the pleasure of seeing him in the most intimate, erotic images and suggestive poses, extolling the beauty of his slender, elegant body. But this was on a whole other level.

As his hand glides lazily over his thick, beautiful dick, you find yourself sobbing softly, unable to look away. You couldn't help but dream of replacing his hand with your own—much smaller—feeling that hot velvety length resting in your palm, making your hand look so tiny. In the soft pink and purple light of the room, his golden caramel skin shimmers faintly. Glittering powder mixes with sweat to make his body glow and shimmer sinfully. He looks so ethereal. So unholy. Almost pornographic. The piercings on his nipples flickered as his back arched, the sugar-brown flesh invitingly firm to caress.

You're sure you'd praise his entire body with your tongue and lips and leave him covered in strawberry-pink love bites if you had the chance to be near him right now.

Seonghwa seems to read your thoughts; his plump, glossy lips open in a low moan, and he reaches up to tug lightly at his nipple. It sends a slight shiver through his entire body, his hips rolling gently as he lets out a deep moan of pleasure.

Your hand finds your wet folds and slowly runs your fingers between them at that pornographic sound. The level of excitement should be disconcerting, but Seonghwa is smiling lewdly at you, licking his fuckable mouth in a languorous manner, and staring without interruption at the image in front of him on the large computer monitor.

How did you get so lucky? Did a cosmic glitch magically allow you to win a private video call with your favourite cam boy? It's all a little bit hard to believe. This must be some kind of incredibly realistic dream, but Seonghwa's hoarse moaning is evidence to the contrary.

When he speaks with you again, his voice is all purr and silky, and it sends a shockwave of excitement through your body. But something about the fact that only you can hear him now makes the situation that much more intimate and even a little forbidden. You have him all to yourself, even if it's just for a short video call.

"Show me, kitty, touch that sweet little cunt. Do it for me, my angel. I beg  you…"His eyes are so big and pleading, the twinkle of a thousand stars is shining in them.

He'll destroy you.

The whimper that comes out of you is almost pathetic. You turn away shamefacedly, biting your trembling lower lip to avoid the vicious, burning gaze, though your fingers obediently pull the sticky folds apart, revealing the tight, wet hole.

"Oh yeah~ That's my kitty. Just as I imagined, all sweet and pink. All made for me." He praises you, tugging on his nipples gently, causing his hips to twitch weakly. Slowly sliding your fingers over your wet pussy, you continue to pleasure yourself. "Keep touching yourself, kitten. Keep touching yourself. Give me pleasure. I bet you're tight as hell; damn it, the thought of it makes me want to drool."

You don't think for a second that you should disobey him as you gently plunge a finger into your pussy, coating it with your own excitement before pulling it out and tracing a small circle around your sensitive clit. You tremble. You're so hot and ready for him. Seonghwa is watching you so intently that it's almost embarrassing, but your desire for his pleasure is a thousand times greater than any embarrassment or modesty.

His cock twitches, clear liquid oozing from the swollen pink head, which glistens faintly in the dim light, and his hips arch in a faint wave-like motion.

He's fucking beautiful. So much so that it's almost silly, but you can see why the rest of the world is so crazy about him.

His fingertips circle around the wet cockhead, catching the liquid and bringing his fingers to his lips, but instead of licking it off like you thought he was going to, he smears it all over his gorgeous, puffy lips.

"Mmm, it's sweet…" His whole body was glistening with powder, sweat dripping down the smooth reliefs of his heaving chest and contoured abs. The thick girth of his cock presses perfectly against his flat stomach.

"I want you to have a lick of my cock, kitten. I want you to taste me until I cum in your mouth. Would you like this, the feel of my big cock on your tongue?"

He is fucking you out of your mind without even trying, and you are falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of temptation and desire. Without a second thought, you'd do anything he asked.

Your eyes follow Seonghwa's every move, and the golden muscles of his body are trembling as you knead your tits with your free hand. The sight of them on your screen makes Seonghwa moan with longing, the soft, plump flesh barely fitting in the palm of your hand.

"I want to suck them off, they look so delicious to me. Damn! God, would you let me fuck them, please? Those are the most amazing tits I have ever seen. I want to cum on them. Oh fuck, my sperm would look so good on those fucking puffy tits of yours".

But before you can do any more than that, he flicks his tongue across the roof of his mouth and gives you a new command.

"Put those tiny fingers up that pretty cunt. I want to see you fuck yourself nice and slow for me." You do as he says and insert two fingers into your quivering hole. The silky, fluttering walls of your vagina clench tightly around your fingers, building a pleasurable pressure between your legs. As you open yourself to Seonghwa, your pleasure echoes in the wet sound throbbing on your palm. "Mmm, that's right. What a sweet little kitten you are to open yourself up in front of me like this. Spread your legs even wider; I want to see more of that pussy of yours."

"S-Seonghwa..." You stutter out his name and spread your thighs even more wide. Seonghwa, as if instinctively excited by the sight of your fingers going in and out of your squirming cunt, leans closer to the camera. 

"You look so delicious, my kitten. Such a delicacy. I bet your hot walls will be so tight around my thick cock; your cunt will milk my cum like the real slut you are, right, kitty?

"Yes, yes, Hwa. I'm such a slut for you."

"Go deeper." He orders you. Your lips quiver as you awkwardly push your hips forward, plunging your fingers in at a new angle in an attempt to penetrate deeper, like he asked. You're having such a hard time; your fingers aren't long and thick enough to hit the right spots, but Seonghwa is even more aroused.

"Oh, my poor kitty, your short fingers won't be enough, will they?"

"N-no, it's so empty." You give a whimper before you sink your teeth into your lower lip. You are practically on the verge of tears.

"Do you imagine that my fingers are fucking you right now?" He brings them up to his mouth, licking them slick and wet, drooling, and letting them run down the length of his phalanges and onto the palm of his hand. "I bet I could fill that tight cunt of yours with just one of them."

"P-please, Seonghwa…" You're begging him, and at this point, you're not even sure what you're asking him to do. Seonghwa's wet fingers start gliding over his beautiful cock again, gathering viscous droplets of pre-sperm and bringing them to his lips, this time dipping into his hot mouth.

The action is driving you mad.

Plump lips, glistening with saliva and lip gloss, close in a tight ring around the long phalanges, dipping deep almost to the base. He moans, his eyes rolling and his body shaking as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, strawberry glitter tinting them a light shade of red.

Your mouth opens even though you don't want it to, your tongue flicks out, and your eyes drop to the bridge of your nose, giving your face a cute, lewd hentai anime grimace. Without even touching you, he fucks you completely. You could swear you can taste the sweet taste of his cum on the tip of your tongue.

You'd give anything to be under him or on top of him right now. Maybe even between those plush thighs, warming his beautiful cock in your mouth like an obedient kitten.

Unfortunately, that's a completely pipe dream.

"Will you cum for me, kitty?" He tilts his head with a sweet, sugary expression, but you hear the more than palpable command in his voice.

You nod thoughtlessly in hurried, repetitive motions, your hair bouncing in time.

Songhwa's plump, moist mouth opens in a melodious, prolonged moan. He gasps, his Adam's apple bulging from under the wide diamond necklace. His head is thrown back, a mop of silky pink hair shining like a halo around his angelic face. A graceful hand hastily caresses the hard length with a wet squelching sound, and you could swear the moans coming from his lips are the hottest you've ever heard. The whole spectacle, so fuckable and mesmerising at the same time, is hard for your brain to comprehend.

You start to moan along with him, trying to let Seonghwa know how he's affecting you.

It makes his gorgeous hips roll over again, his cock twitching weakly in the grip of his hand as the sound of yours reaches his ears.

"Seonghwa…I…I'm coming." You whimper as you stroke your hypersensitive clit with your thumb. Trying to match the rhythm of his hurried movements on his cock, your fingers sink deeper into your needy pussy.

"Sperm, kitten, do it for me. Make me proud of you. Squirt on those pretty fingers, and imagine my face instead, hell, I wish you'd smother me with that sweet cunt, right now".

His words are the driving force behind your mind-blowing orgasm. It's the best you've ever given yourself, supported by a hoarse, deep moan and Seonghwa's writhing body.

He cums with you. Pearly streams of semen squirt from his cockhead, staining his glistening naked chest and dripping down his abs. Without a moment's hesitation, Seonghwa's fingers scoop up his own cum and place it in his mouth. He slowly caresses his long fingers with his long tongue until every last drop of cum has disappeared in his mouth.

The result is a new wave of heat in your body, and your hole is shrinking on nothing.

"Taste it." He orders greedily as he watches you bring your hand up to your mouth. But if you're going to eat your own cum like that, you're going to have to put on a hell of a show for Songhwa in return for all the shows he's putting on for you. Your tongue slides slowly over each of your fingers, taking extra time to let the wet muscle run through each of the cracks between your fingers. Songhwa is watching you through thick lashes; he has the eyes of a bedroom, a gaze so full of lust that the iris is almost pure black.

"So delicious." You say it with a certain seductive note, pulling the last finger out of your mouth with a wet, lascivious pop.

"Damn, that was... you're a fucking hot kitten; I want to fuck you so bad." Seonghwa practically whimpers and sucks on the plush lip of his lower lip as if that's how he can taste you.

"I guess that's it, huh?" You ask. It's hard to hide the disappointment in your tone. But a deal is a deal, and that's all that comes with the winning video call. "I... I think I'll see you at the next stream, Hwa."

"Don't miss me, kitten." That's the last you hear before the screen fades and you're back in your bedroom reality.

Just like that, everything goes back to normal, and life goes back to normal. You'll be your normal self, and Seonghwa will be a popular cam boy with a small army of fans who are madly in love with him. 

It will take a few minutes for you to come to your senses, and you will hardly notice the little text chat pop-up that appears on the page.

StrawberryBoy_Hwa has just sent you a private message.

"I want to hear you moan my name once again. Call me, Y/N. I'll be waiting for you. Seonghwa." And what followed was a series of numbers with a little glowing heart emoji on them.

It seems that the universe is still broken. You've got the personal number of everyone's favourite Park Seonghwa, the porn industry's most sought-after strawberry boy.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Brunch Date || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

Summary: Paparazzi capture a cute little brunch date that you and Tom take your daughter Elsie, on.

Warnings: absolutely none cause this is just pure fluff 🥰

Wc: 762

Dad!Tom Blyth x reader au masterlist

divider by @pommecita

Hand-in-hand, you, Tom and Elsie walk through the streets of Brooklyn. You were on the look out for a place to eat brunch since this morning it took awhile for Elsie to wake up and get ready. You didn’t bother bringing a pram since there were lots of nearby cafes to your home.

It had been a whole month since you and Tom revealed that you were parents and a whole month since the promo tour of tbosas finished. Not many pictures of Elsie were out still, not that you purposely intended that. It just coincidentally happened.

But it felt great being out in the open comfortably with your family. Elsie had her arms up, both hands gripping Tom’s and your hands as you both lightly swing her. Childish giggles escape her mouth as you and Tom smile.

“Ooh, what about that place?” Tom points over to a little cafe on the corner of the street. It wasn’t very busy inside and you had already since great comments about it while you were looking at the cafes around this morning on your phone.

You sat in a three seater table that overlooked the street of Brooklyn, Elsie in the middle. “Would you like water?” Tom asks as he gets the jug of water. “Yes please,” You smile, tucking a loose strand of Elsie’s hair behind her ear as she nods. Her hair up in two pigtails, just how she liked them.

Tom fills her glass before carefully holding it for Elsie as she drinks it. You look through the menu, your eyes scanning the contents of it as you discuss with Tom the options. Wanting more attention on her, Elsie crawls onto her dad’s lap as Tom lets her, her little arms wrapping around his neck, their cheeks side by side as you laugh.

You quickly snap a photo of the two. “Do you want pancakes baby?” You ask, looking at Elsie, “Yes please,” She voices out as Tom cracks a smile. “Good manners darling,” He praises her, kissing her cheek before he passes Elsie to you, getting up to order.

Tom comes back a few minutes later. You decide to sit in Elsie’s spot beside Tom as she sits on your lap, her eyes on the road before her and the people walking pass. “Do you want to go to somewhere after this?” Tom asks you as he takes a sip of his coffee.

You spoon feed the froth of the babycino into Elsie’s mouth as you hum. “Actually yes, I saw this really cute pinafore for Elsie when I was walking by the shops a couple days ago,” At the mention of her name, Elsie turns her head to look at her parents.

You and Tom giggle as he lightly pinches her chubby cheek as Elsie smiles. “You’re so cute darling,” You kiss her forehead just as the food arrives. You thank the waitress and you move to sit back at your seat, Elsie back on hers.

Tom takes Elsie’s plate as she waits patiently, he was cutting it up into small bits so that she could eat it without hassle. “There you go sweetheart,” Tom smiles at her daughter as she digs in.

The three of you ate your dinner with Elsie taking a little bit longer. You watched your daughter as she chews her food slowly, her curious blue eyes wandering around the place. You had spotted a few paparazzi’s taking photographs a few times but you didn’t mind since they were on the other side of the street, far away.

A few people would stare as they walked by but they were all super respectful and didn't come up to ask for photos while you were eating. After Elsie finished, the three of you left the cafe and made your way to downtown brooklyn. Elsie was in Tom's arms most of the walk there since she felt clingy.

You stopped at the shop you mentioned to Tom and did a little shopping for Elsie. Hand in hand, you and your daughter walked around the shop, picking out things that she liked.

Tom was trailing behind, his eyes looking around the cute little shop that had the cutest pieces of clothing and thought how adorable they would look on her daughter.

All the clothes that you and Elsie picked out ended up in Tom's arms as he happily held them all. You helped Elsie try on all the clothes and did a little fashion show for Tom. It was honestly so adorable and Tom found it absolutely entertaining.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone V

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Morsa has to go

Things have been a little weird in the house.

Momma and Morsa...They're not quite arguing but they've been having a lot of what Frido says are 'heated discussions'. You don't quite understand what that means but you know it's the reason why they're a bit huffy and puffy with each other.

They're still happy with you though and that's all that matters.

They have their silly little heated discussions but still give you big smiles and big kisses and big cuddles together at bedtime.

You glance behind you, at where they're snuggled up on the sofa together and nod.

Good.

They're being nice to each other again and you turn to look back at your show with a little smirk.

Pernille smiles at you as you turn back around, watching as you wiggle your little toes happily while watching your cartoon.

She knows you've noticed the underlying tension between her and Magda. She knows you've picked up on it, a little bit confused by all the hushed conversations and cold shoulders between your mothers.

Pernille's future has been a load of question marks for a while. Chelsea's been knocking on her door, banging on it really. They were practically frothing at the mouth to sign her but she's been pushing them back for a while now.

Not for herself.

She knows that Chelsea would be good for her. Time in the English league would develop her skills further and Chelsea have been on the up and up for a while now.

But you're the only thing keeping Pernille from signing on the dotted line.

Your life is in Germany and at Wolfsburg where you insist on wearing the shirt to every practice and speak German like you were born to do it.

Pernille isn't sure how you would cope with such a big move so suddenly and so early on in your life.

You're happy in Germany with her and this little apartment where you know the exact route to training and your favourite park is two minutes down the road.

Germany is all you know.

Magda's on the side of coming to Chelsea, of uprooting your whole life to move to England where the three of you can finally all live together.

Pernille wants that too but not at the expense of your happiness.

The conversation has been tabled though, at least for today because it's Magda's last before she gets back on a flight to leave again this evening.

You're content on the floor in front of them until Magda gets up off the sofa to grab her suitcase. You watch closely as she unzips it and goes to retrieve some of her clothes from the laundry.

You frown, toddling over to sit yourself in the bag.

You give Pernille a triumphant look as you wiggle around to get comfortable, throwing out some of Magda's t-shirts and trousers.

"What are you doing?" Pernille laughs, getting up to refold the clothes so they can all fit again.

"Morsa not goin'," You answer," Big bag for when she goes. Can't use big bag if I'm in it."

Pernille chuckles, lifting you up easily and setting you down further away. "You know Morsa needs to go," She says," She plays in London."

You stick your tongue out. "Nu-uh!"

Pernille sticks her tongue out right back at you. "Uh-huh! You know she does."

"Morsa not goin' now," You insist," Won't let her!"

"She doesn't need your permission, Princesse. She's got to leave to play with her team."

At that, you burst into tears - full, chest rattling, heartbreaking sobs as fat tears roll down your chubby cheeks and splash onto the floor.

"No!" You whine," No Morsa go!"

"Yes Morsa go," Pernille says to you," You know she has to leave. She does it every time."

You shake your head furiously and kick your legs in outrage. "No! No let Morsa leave!"

"Hey, hey," Magda says when she comes pick into the room," What's with all the tears, huh? Why are we crying?"

"No leave!" You screech at her, sobbing even harder now that you realise she's packing her clean laundry into the suitcase. "I not let you!"

"I have to leave, princesse," Magda tells you," You know that. How am I going to make enough money to give you all the nice toys you want if I don't go back to my job?"

"No job!" You insist," Momma has job! Stay here!"

You cling to her leg, wrapped up tightly around her in a way that makes you difficult to extract. You sob and you sob and you sob even as Magda pulls you into her arms and rocks you.

"I'm sorry," She says," I'm so sorry. I really want to stay but I can't. Soon though. Me and your Momma are going to work something out. Maybe I'll come here, huh?"

It's in that moment that Pernille knows she's going to call the Chelsea representatives back. She's been putting it off for days now, wanting to discuss it all with Magda first but she knows now that she'll have to talk to them about a contract.

She can't let Magda give up Chelsea, not when she's captain, not when she's put her blood, sweat and tears into the team to make it great, not when Magda leaving Chelsea would be a big hit to her career, at least right now.

Pernille doesn't have much tying her to Wolfsburg and Germany apart from you and you're making it very clear now that your little heart is breaking over the fact that Magda is leaving again.

You want her to stay or, rather, you want to be with Magda and Pernille does too.

She wants shared breakfast and dinners, shared bathtime and shared bedtime and nights where you sleep between them in bed and days going out to the markets together and matches where you get to walk out as Magda's mascot too.

Magda has to leave now, despite your obvious heartbreak, but Pernille's certain that this separation won't be for too long.

[mysterious-shelf]

all this new content and speculation and discourse has distracted me from equally important matters, namely the (platonic) eddietommy of it all … because the potential there is for their relationship this season??? so many possibilities and i’d eat up every one of them

eddietommy bonding over all things buck

eddietommy butting heads over who gets to spend time with buck

alternatively, eddietommy being sympathetic towards each other regarding buck time — tommy insists eddie spends more time with buck while eddie swears he’s fine (he’s not)

eddietommy, in the midst of the buck time drama, confessing that they miss hanging out with each other just as much; tommy was eddie’s friend first, after all!

this post because eddietommy should be able to exist independent of buck

tommy desperately trying to keep eddie from going down the same path he did 20 years ago and turning into a gerrard minion (this scenario has had me frothing at the mouth since the s7 finale. like you don’t understand i need tommy to beg)

veering into fic territory with this one, but tommy reassuring eddie that he is a good dad. bonus if he uses his own shitty dad as a contrast. bonus bonus if he’s angsty about it “do you even understand how lucky christopher is to have a dad who loves him like you do?”

(now this is very much fic territory but i want the last two points to be combined and turned into a dramatic scene where they’re both yelling at each other but they’re not really fighting and they both just break down in front of each other because big men being sad is like crack to me)

eddietommy performing michaelbobby-level shenanigans

eddietommy bonding over their army experiences

this fucking post about eddie’s potential reaction to tommy’s helicopter crashing

eddie just having someone else who he can bro out with and also be vulnerable with. 7x04 sets thier friendship up as one that’s so unique and intriguing and if it isn’t explored in s8 i will be pressing charges

[sweet-as-an-angel]

t-thigh riding with König when he tells his gf while she's riding that he's snapped grown men's backs across them and he's like "wow you're really depraved huh?" AND JUST, LIKE DEGRADING DOM KÖNIG I'M GOING FUCKIN NUTS FERAL FROTHING AT THE MOUTH ILY ILY ILY

Thigh Riding w/ König

Warnings: 18+, Grinding, Thigh Riding, Breath Play, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You', Violent Imagery, Mentions of Injury, Dominant König, Submissive Reader, etc.

König bounced you on his thigh, grinding against you at a Nirvanan angle, making your eyes clasp shut and your mouth hang open. His eyes held neither mercy, nor remorse as he berated you, your neck a small bird in his hand.

"You know, I've killed men twice your size with these hands--" he punctuated his point with a harsh squeeze to your throat, making you cower, shudder. "--Broken their backs over the very thigh you're fucking yourself on."

The image - reality - of your boyfriend in his military wear - the skin of a predator - made you whine; the fact that he could so easily kill you - taint your life with the death that dripped from his occupation - and yet he didn't, made your heart bloom with warmth. For one reason, he protected you from it all, from himself. Even now, he was restraining the urge to destroy you - to bend you over and blow your back out, to watch you tremble beneath his shadow as many had before (albeit under different circumstances).

At your mewls, your growing wetness coating his thigh, his head tilted. "You really are depraved, you know that?" His voice was unaffected by the strenuousness of having your weight on his thigh, bobbing you up and down as if you were a toy. His toy.

He jutted his leg up, disrupting the rhythm he'd allowed you to settle into. He let you breathe, loosening his fingers around your throat, yet you remained in his grip, fatigued from what one could consider no less than abuse.

From beneath lidded eyes, you looked at him; for what, you couldn't tell. But he could.

Past the pleading and desire for release, he saw what you really wanted. Or, rather, his own needs reflected back at him. He smiled, genuine and soft. And it shot electric anticipation through you.

"How can I reward such a...delinquentile pet who is unfazed by death?" he said, taking his hand from around your throat and tangling it in your hair, where his grip stiffened, hardened. Ice. Your heart stammered.

"I suppose I must discipline you," he said. "For I don't think you quite understand the position you're in." He yanked you back by your hair, making you cry out. Your hands shot up to grasp his, to pull him off. Futile.

"After all--" his voice was low as secrecy as he leaned in, his words hot against your skin, "--It is my specialty."

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 31

part 1 | part 30 | ao3

updating the rating to E. cw: recreational drug use/marijuana, foreplay, mild-to-moderate spit kink

“I feel like a water bottle,” Steve slurs. At some point he wiggled his way between Eddie’s legs to get a better look at his tattoos — starting at his ankles and working his way up, pointing at each piece and asking, "What's this? And what's that?"

Eddie explained each one in turn: the quotes, the lyrics, the silly art. "This one's the Elvish word for friend. That one's from an Iron Maiden song. Oh, the asterisk? It's supposed to be an asshole. No, I'm serious! That's how Vonnegut drew them in his books."

Now Steve’s lying flat on his back between Eddie’s splayed thighs, eyelids heavy, body warm. 'Go Your Own Way' plays softly on the stereo, and Eddie continues his tattoo tour, the fingers of his free hand weaving patterns through Steve's hair — lazy, twirling zig-zags that send skitters of sensation across his scalp and down his spine.

Steve feels like he could die right now. Happy. Held. Content.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

“This is fucking awesome,” he hums.

“Good,” Eddie grins at him, “I’m glad.” He scratches lightly at his scalp. “What were you, uh— what were you saying about a water bottle?”

Oh, right. Steve lifts a hand; pantomimes tilting a bottle back and forth. “Like, uh….. Sssloshy.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie snorts. “You’re so high.”

“Mmmmhm.”

“And you look like you’re jerking off a ghost."

“I’ll jerk off your ghost,” Steve mutters petulantly.

"I’m sure my ghost would love that.”

Eddie reaches for the joint and takes another drag, and Steve tilts his neck, arching up to look at him. Bites his lip at the pretty picture Eddie makes: the sharp shadows and delicate lines, the shape of his full lips exhaling rings of smoke. Big for a guy's. He remembers thinking that a couple weeks ago. That they were big. That they looked soft.

And now he thinks: Kissable.

Steve licks his lips. “What about your, uh- not ghost?”

Eddie laughs like he’s watching a newborn puppy try to walk. “You want to touch my dick so bad.”

“S’probably a good dick,” Steve shrugs, unashamed.

He probably should be — ashamed. Guilty for the feelings stirring deep inside his chest; feelings weed brings to the surface, sends southbound, turns to need. He can imagine how the good, god-fearing Catholics who raised him would react if they could see him now, how they'd foam and froth and rage, red-faced and covered in spittle as they shouted that he's condemning himself to Hell.

But the thing is, he's already in Hell. He's been here since July.

And anyway, Hell's kinda nice. Gentle and warm, surprisingly kind. Hell smells like leather and tobacco, like weed and aftershave, and it sounds like Lindsey Buckingham, and it likes to braid Steve's hair.

Hell has endless, inky eyes and probably kisses him with tongue.

Heat spreads through him like molten honey at the thought, spilling hot over the edges, curling in his core, and Steve turns his head to the side and drags his mouth over a tattoo on Eddie’s inner thigh — a cartoon cloud over a curled-up snoozing fox. He noses at the edge of Eddie's shorts; pushes them up.

Goosebumps pebble under the warm press of his lips. "What's this one?" Steve whispers, nudging the fabric further up.

Eddie’s laugh is quiet and strained. "Something I don't want to discuss with your mouth this close to my dick. Stevie," he warns, but it's breathless, full of want. There's a wet spot on his shorts.

Steve pushes onto his belly, blows hot breath over the spot, liquid fire coursing through him at he stares at the bulge in Eddie’s shorts. Blistering heat, the sweetness dense, rich and thick on his tongue; in his veins. He mouths at the crease of Eddie's thigh. Eddie smells so good, like skin and sweat and boy, and Steve wants this. Wants it so badly he feels the ache inside his teeth. I dreamed the goddess poured ambrosia...

Steve feels it drip from head to toe.

"Steve." Eddie's voice is sharp this time, commanding and firm as he fists a hand in Steve's hair — not hurting him; not letting him move. Keeping him from putting his mouth just where he wants.

Steve makes a desperate sound and rocks his hips against the bed.

"Steve, stop," Eddie scolds. Pulls his hair a little harder, like he’s tugging on a leash.

"Eddie, please.” Steve’s eyes roll back, and he shifts his hips again. Just once; just a bit. Not nearly hard enough.

"No. Behave. Be good."

Steve freezes — tenses every muscle, holds himself so still, his face flushing with shame, because he didn’t mean to not be good. Didn’t mean to do anything bad. He blinks at Eddie with watery eyes and says he’s sorry, his voice cracking around the word.

"God," Eddie groans. His fist tightens in Steve’s hair, and his hips twitch off the bed, the curve of his cock brushing the tip of Steve's nose. Fuck. "Holy shit. Roll over."

"What?"

"On your back, like you were before." He’s panting when he says it, and Steve does as he's told; flips over onto his back, face bracketed by Eddie's thighs, the tent in his own shorts embarrassingly big. Obvious.

"Good,” Eddie exhales. “That’s- Jesus. Yeah, that’s good." He sinks back against the wall with a winded sigh.

And then he doesn't say anything else.

Doesn’t even move, just slouches down to catch his breath.

Steve kind of wants to cry; feels chastised and stupid, because of course Eddie doesn't want this. He already said he didn't, didn't he? Not tonight, anyway. And now Steve’s ruined things by being high and dumb and selfish, getting himself worked up over nothing and making it Eddie’s problem, and he'll probably spend the rest of this night miserable and blue-balled because he's a horny idiot, but that's—

It’s fine, if Eddie wants to cool things off; if he doesn't want to— he's allowed to not want—

"Here's what's about to happen.”

Steve snaps his head up to listen. Twists his neck around, sees Eddie lounging against the wall like a bored king on a throne, one ringed hand cupping himself loosely through his shorts. He squeezes once, takes another deep breath; lets it out long and controlled. Steve’s gonna fucking drool. "You’re gonna touch yourself for me.”

Steve moans. Guttural and loud, the sound punched out of his lungs, because Eddie’s voice comes out like gravel — husky, deep, the words authoritative and slow; like Steve needs to be punished; like Eddie’s merciful.

“You’re going to touch yourself exactly how I tell you to, and only how I tell you to. If I say stop, you stop. If I say faster, you speed up. If it's too much—" His hand moves to Steve’s cheek, slapping lightly against the bone. “—you tap out, or you tell me.”

Steve nods his head, entranced. Eddie’s thumb moves to his mouth. “And if you’re very, very good…” He tugs his bottom lip; presses in; lets him suck. “…then I’ll let you watch me come. How does that sound?”

Steve whines; hollows his cheeks, sucking harder, flicking his tongue. Eddie’s thighs clamp down around him, and when he pulls his hand away the spit clings to his thumb, a delicate string connecting them before it breaks. “Asked you a question, sweetheart.” He smears the spit over Steve’s chin. “Does that sound good?”

Steve nearly swallows his tongue.

—

part 32

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Kiss - Don't Tell

Cassian/Azriel

Word Count - 2.8k

Summary - after a wild threesome months ago - Cas and Az get a little curious what things would be like without a third party involved.

Warnings - SMUT, m/m smut, mutual masturbation, cocks (no insertion), ass play, what do you want me to say? Its smut.

The night was still young, the sun barely losing the touch of color in the sky as Azriel dropped down onto the plush sofa in his chambers. The fire was already stoked to a steady, calming flicker as he settled comfortably into the cushions with a book, propping his legs onto the ottoman before him. It might have been early to be tucking in for the night, but Azriel was relishing in the quiet of the first night off he had had in months. 

The minutes ticked by in glorious silence but just as he had reached the cliffhanger of a chapter ending, the door to his bedroom swung open, not even a knock of warning. 

“I’m bored,” Cassian sighed as he flopped backwards onto Az’s bed. 

“Here,” Az uttered with irritation as he reached to the table beside him. “Read something. Expand your mind or something.”

Cas sat up and eyed the novel that was tossed onto the empty half of the furniture. Az hadn’t even bothered to look up as he flipped the page nonchalantly, returning to his book. 

“Don’t you have some enemy spy we can play with or something?,” Cas quipped as he meandered over to the sofa. He briefly peered over the shoulder before him, feigning interest in the book Az was reading. 

“They aren’t toys, Cas,” Azriel responded without a glance in his direction. “And I don’t play with them. I interrogate them.” Another casual flip of the page accentuated his words. 

“Yeah, but you have to admit, it's a little fun poking at them though.” Cassian mimicked holding a dagger in his hand as he rounded to sit on the sofa, jabbing in Azriel’s direction with a smirk.

Again, Az’s attention was unwavering. His eyes continued to scan the page as he ignored Cas’s attempts to derail his relaxing evening. Flopping down now on the sofa, Cassian grabbed the book left out for him. Lounging back with a foot landing on Az’s lap, he fluttered through the pages without any actual attempt to take in the book’s contents before slamming the cover shut with a snap. Still no reaction from the other end of the seat, Cassian sighed heavily.

“Have you ever thought about….no, nevermind,” Cassian said as he slid his arm under his head. 

“What?,” Az asked, still reading.

“Remember that night a few months ago?,” Cas began. “After Rita’s? When we brought that cute little redhead home with us?”

Now he had Az’s attention. Lowering his book, he peered over with a curious gaze. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Well, you know. She was kinda wild wasn’t she?” Cas winked with a smile. “It got a little wilder than our other threesomes, remember?”

Az took a moment, reflecting. He remembered that night well, very well. The cute little redhead had been nearly frothing at the mouth at the idea of bedding two Illyrians at once. And they had been more than happy to oblige. Once things had started heating up, it had become clear that it wasn’t just the idea of two males fawning over her that brought her pleasure, but the idea of two males in general. With or without her. She had asked them to take turns watching as the other pleasured her, but she seemed more enamored with watching the third palming his own cock at the show than the one between her legs. Before the night was over, she had them all tightly pressed together, tongues clashing for hers. Their cocks held tightly in her hands, pressed side by side.

“Yeah, and…,” Az drew out in response as the details of the memory lingered.

“Well,” Cas drew out the word in similar fashion as he rose to sitting. “Have you ever thought about – I don’t know. Kissing? Like – you and me?”

Az reeled back for a fraction of a second in shock before steeling his face into impassivity. “Um, what?,” his voice piped out in a squeak despite his impartial face. 

“I don’t know – it’s just,” Cas stammered, running a hand through his hair to release some tension. “After that night, I mean – I kinda got a little curious. You’re telling me you haven’t thought about it at all?”

Azriel’s body was deadly still, every muscle matching the ones in his face holding that impassive stare. The silence held as Cas sat just as still, gauging the body language across from him before throwing up his hands.

“Forget it. Forget I ev–”

“I’ve thought about it,” Az interjected quietly. “All the time.” Those last three words left his lips in a whisper, his face unchanged. 

It was Cassian’s turn to stop, motionless. His body felt like a live wire inside but every inch of him remained wholly still. Their eyes locked across the distance between them, breaths shallow and quick. Suddenly, they were both moving. It was impossible to tell who moved first, but it hardly mattered. 

In a frenzy of arms, they met in the middle of the sofa, lips crashing together, hands grasping at shoulders and tangling in hair. Lips sliding smoothly over each other, their tongues lashed against one another, deeper into the recesses of each other’s mouths. 

Cas pulled back for just a moment, long enough to nip a teasing bite to Az’s bottom lip. The resounding moan that sounded from his chest had him returning with intensity, hand gripping at Az’s neck to press him closer. 

His scarred hands grazed lower, trailing down Cassian’s back before landing roughly at his waist. A bruising squeeze of his fingers left Cas gasping a sharp inhale before shifting his leg. Pulling his knee to the other side of Az’s hip, he settled again, practically sitting in Az’s lap. 

Lips crashing together once more, the breath exchanged between them had reached a fever pitch, quick and panting, swallowed into one another. One of Azriel’s hands began wandering once more as Cas’s own gripped along his firm back. Slipping further, Az’s textured palm met one tight ass cheek, his thumb tracing soothing circles. 

The sensation left Cas’s muscles moving of their own accord as his hips bucked gently against the body in front of him. Pulling back for just a moment, he drank in a breath trying to calm his racing heart. The effort was futile however as Cassian dove back in, this time latching onto the side of Azriel’s glistening neck.

With a groan, Az clenched his hand along Cas’s backside, the other pulling roughly at the roots of his hair. Sliding his palm along his hip, he reached for the laces along the front of Cas’s pants while his other arm clutched Cas’s head deeper into his neck. 

Another involuntary twitch cascaded through his hips as he bucked into Az’s front. “Fuck…,” he moaned into the soft tattooed skin of his neck before pulling away..

Azriel’s hand dropped instantly to Cas’s shoulder, the other resting against his thigh. 

“Az –,” Cas panted out, questioning.

Everything stopped. The kissing, the licking, the breathing. Only the sound of the fire still crackling sounded as they sat pressed together, staring intensely at each other. Two sets of hazel eyes roamed over the other’s face, scanning for what their next move should be. 

The moment was broken as Az gave a testing swipe of his thumb over the laces and Cassian inhaled sharply. “Az.,” Cas’s voice sighed, not a question but a plea.

“Shut up,” Az whispered as he dove back in to kiss him, his hand returning in a flurry to the laces. Both of them lost in the moment, Cas didn’t even notice the sheet of shadow that enveloped them until his body met the mattress. 

Laid out on his side, Cas didn’t even pause. Az quickly propped himself up on one elbow, leaning into the hurried clashing of tongues once more as the laces finally fell open. Cas was now the one reaching at Az’s front. Shifting closer, Az shimmied his hips to allow him better access as he freed Cas’ cock from its confines. 

Cassian whined as a hand wrapped fully around his aching length, his own hands still fumbling at the pants before him. Frustration and elation flooded through him as his tongue darted out, licking a quick swipe to Az’s chest before landing a bite to his pec. 

A growl rumbled through the chest beneath his lips as Az lowered his other hand and offered assistance in freeing his own cock. As the twitching length broke free, Cas pulled away, breaking the hold that Az’s lips had on his throat.

He paused, enamored. Not because he had never beheld the sight before him before now, but because this time, he would get to touch. Fingers trembling, Cas dragged his fingertips feather-light up the soft shaft. 

Azriel hissed a breath in through his teeth, cock twitching harder. Reaching the tip, Cas wrapped his own wide palm around it with a squeeze. Az moaned loudly before rolling his head forward and biting down on the bulging muscle of Cas’s shoulder. 

Both of them aching in each other’s hand, their movements began to match. Slow, languid strokes to the other’s cock as they panted into each other’s bodies. Tongues trailing along skin, teeth nipping at every squeeze. 

The tension building between them was too much to bear and Az pawed at Cassian’s hip, pulling him roughly to the front of his body. Their grasps dropped as both of their cocks lined up together, side by side. The heat radiating between them felt almost electric.

Watching the movement of his own hand, gaze full of the sight before him, Cassian opened his hand wide, grabbing both of their lengths together and pulling one testing stroke. Lowering his forehead to Az’s chest he moaned, from the depths of his belly as Az released a choking sound into his ear. The need to move, kiss, bite – anything – raged through him. His hips bucked into Cas’s grasp as his mouth found purchase on the weathered skin of his neck. The nip he landed sure to leave a bruise tomorrow.

Cas’s strokes didn’t waver even as the sting of the bite hit. His hand continued, picking up the pace slowly as beads of precum now leaked down between their rigid cocks. His tongue tracing along every bit of available skin, Az moved his hand to Cas’s ass once more. Grasping and grabbing, fingertips dancing along the split of his backside. 

Releasing a ragged moan at a particularly rough stroke, the shadows swirled around their joined members, grabbing Cas’s wrist at Az’s direction and halting his movements. Before a protest could be uttered, Az pulled at his hip with surprising strength and had him rolled onto his belly. 

No thoughts stopped him. Moving on instinct, Cas pulled his knees under himself, raising his backside toward the male behind him. Just as he has his body planted firmly, a knee slid between his own, knocking them further apart. He can’t help but chuckle a bit to himself thinking about if this is how his dates felt when he brought them home to bed.

“What’s so funny?,” Az questioned as he took his cock in hand, fingertips gathering the rivulets of shared fluids and slicking them down his shaft. 

“Nothing,” Cas chuckled again. The searing heat of Az’s cock settling between his spread cheeks took his breath away with a guttural moan. “Nothing at all,” he whispered, dropping his head into the pillow before him.

The pace began unhurried, but quickly picked up into the quickness of need. Cas’s knees slipped further apart as he attempted desperately to find some sort of friction, his cock twitching at every thrust at his backside. Firm hands landed loudly on the globes of his ass as Azriel pushed them together, creating more friction along his shaft. The twitching of his cock became more of a painful jump and Cassian lowered his head, peering under his body to watch. The hard aching length of himself, red and impossibly swollen, a steady drip of precum leaked onto the bed below him. Every pump of the male behind him had it throbbing with need. 

The desperation for some friction raged through him, but before he could shift a hand free, Az leaned down over him, mindful of his wings. Like he could read his mind, he reached around and repeated the motion from before. Fingers slicking through Cas’ fluids, he pulled a stroke down his full length, coating him. The strength of each pull, the twist over the tip, Cas was a mess. Arms shaking, face pressed into the pillow again, he screamed as he arched his back deeper into Az. 

The thrusts started to stutter before slowing nearly to a halt, Az panting hard. With the push of his free hand against the bow of Cas’ back, he sat up into a kneel. 

“Should – should I –,” he stuttered.

Pushing up on his forearms, Cas looked back over his shoulder to find Az palming his cock. Slow and measured as their eyes met. 

“Let me,” Cas rasped out, voice broken from his earlier screaming. “I wanna see those eyes, pretty boy”

Azriel’s hand on his cock halted, still grasping. “Fuck. Cas, can you be serious for once.”

“What? I am serious,” he said with a genuine smile as he turned to face him. “You are pretty.” Both in a kneel facing each other, Cas knocked Az’s knees wider and placed his body into his lap, one leg hooking over his hip. “And I do want to see those eyes,” he whispered softly.

Their cocks touching once more, lined up side by side, Cas gave one rolling thrust into the hard plane of Az’s stomach. Az’s hand opened, releasing his own cock to now encompass them both. The grip that surrounded them had Cas thrusting harder a couple more times before he too reached down, palm opposite the other and joined the grasp.

Squeezing together in tandem, both males thrust into each other, tips trailing along the lines of defined muscle that grace their bodies.

“Fuck,” Az moaned leaning into the shoulder in front of him. “Cassian.”

Cas felt his cock trying to twitch but the hands around them both prevented the movement, he could feel each beat of Az’s heart in his palm as he applied even more pressure, both of them still thrusting.

“That’s it,” Cas whined.

Feeling the grip tighten, Az responded in kind leaving Cas gasping out a moan that sounded more like a sob. 

“That’s it,” he wailed, lowering his head onto Az’s chest, watching a trickle of cum beginning to crest over his tip. Thrusting harder now, he watched as that trail became smeared over Azriel’s abs and lost all his control. With a crying shout, Cas came. Thick white streams shot onto the defined abs of Az’s stomach.

The heat of Cas’ release meeting his skin was Az’s undoing. Just as Cas’ gaze swiveled up to meet his, hazel eyes so similar to his own, Az followed behind him. Cocks still gripped tightly together, Cassian’s hand was still moving in time with his, a guttural roar left his body as his release painted over Cas’ front. 

His cock had already begun to soften some, but the feeling of Az’s come landing on his body had his entire body jerking with the pulse of his cock filling with blood once more. The only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat as it roared in his ears, Az’s forehead meeting his shoulder. 

Both their hands now fell from their cocks, scrabbling for purchase on the body before them. Hands grasping at shoulders and tangled in hair as they caught their racing breath. 

The next morning came quicker than it felt it should have. Three Illyrians had trudged into the clearing outside the bounds of Velaris at Rhys’ insistence that they gather before the sunrise. The sun now hung well above the horizon and the heat beat down strongly on the two still grappling in the makeshift ring.

Rhys stood off to the side, drinking his fill of water after taking on both Cassian and Az individually once already. He watched as the punches landed seemed harder than usual, the dodges more swift and the retaliation more brutal. He just laughed to himself as he watched them spar with a renewed vigor even after multiple rounds this morning.

“You two should just kiss already and get it over with,” he shouted across the clearing. “Save us all some time.”

Cassian’s laugh rang loudly in response as he smirked at Az, still in defense posture across from him, fists raised. 

“Hear that Az?,” he asked in a low drone. “We should just kiss.”

Az’s glower deepened. “Shut up,” he snapped before taking him down in a tackle to the hips and pinning him to the ground.

[bro-atz]

daffodil [flower garden — hongjoong]

inspired by an old one shot i wrote years ago

in which: you can't help but have a crush on your child's teacher, mr. kim hongjoong.

pair: teacher!hongjoong/mom!fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

content: fluff, reader's child is gender neutral, star-gazing, crushes, pining, there's not much to say other than general fluff

rating: PG/PG-13 | safe for work!

author's note: @pocketjoong @nebulousbrainsoup as promised!

flower garden masterlist

You had a crush on your kid’s teacher. Honestly, you personally were mortified that you did because if your parent did that to you when you were a kid, you’d be so embarrassed, but here you were, a single mom, crushing on your kid’s homeroom teacher.

And to make matters worse, you had to meet with this teacher when you went for your kid’s parent-teacher conference. You thought that if you avoided this guy with all of your might and energy, you could get over this “inappropriate” crush you had.

“Mom, I don’t have to be there, do I?” your kid asked you.

“Yes, you do, sweetie,” you answered, a slight wave of relief washing over you as you realized that you had to remain professional in front of the teacher since your kid would be right by your side.

Your kid pouted and reluctantly got into the car before you hopped in the driver’s seat.

You wished the ride to the school would take long, that you would get stuck in traffic, that you would miss your allotted slot time with the teacher and be forced to miss the conference, but there was absolutely no traffic, and if anything, you got to the school way too early.

Instead of waiting in the parking lot like you wanted to, you and your kid were waiting in front of the classroom for the teacher since your kid really, really needed to use the bathroom. You shouldn’t have been checking your appearance so that you could potentially score a date with the teacher, but you sat and checked your lipstick for the umpteenth time as you waited for the conference before yours to end.

“Alright, well, it was lovely to meet you!”

Fuck, just hearing his voice was enough to get your heart pumping. You turned your head to see him, your kid’s teacher, standing and talking to the parents who were in the room prior. You couldn’t help but stare at his side profile, the way his nose shape was so perfect, the beautiful smile on his face, and the little mole on his neck that you desperately wanted to run your finger over.

“Y/N?” the teacher asked, snapping you out of your dizzy daydream. “Come in.”

You nodded and guided your kid into the room, the two of you sitting in the chairs across from the desk. Your eyes couldn't help but spot the beautiful bouquet of daffodils sitting near his computer monitor, only for your eyes to immediately snap to the man when he entered your frame of vision. The second he sat across from you, your mind truly went blank, and you went on autopilot. You couldn’t remember a damn word from that conference and remained dazed until you got home and tucked your kid in for bed.

“Oh my God,” you mumbled to yourself as you covered your face with a pillow. “Oh my God.”

Luckily for you, the next couple of days at work were insane, and you didn’t think about him at all. You didn’t think about him at all until you ran into him at the grocery store a week later.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t froth at the mouth just seeing him. Usually he was wearing a semi-formal outfit while he was working, but seeing him dressed down slightly, an extra button of his shirt undone and revealing more of his chest, made your mouth water. You really were crushing hard on this teacher.

“Y/N?” he asked, snapping you out of your daydream yet again.

“Y-Yes! Oh, hi Mr. Kim—“

“Please, call me Hongjoong. I insist,” he said while chuckling slightly. “I think we’re around the same age, so there’s no need to be formal with me.”

You felt the tips of your ears heat up; the thought of being overly friendly with your kid’s teacher felt super wrong, but he insisted that you call him by his first name, so how could you say no?

“I had no idea you went to this grocery store,” you said softly, trying to get him to continue the conversation instead of standing there in awkward silence with you.

“I actually just started coming here since it’s closer to where I live now. I actually moved in yesterday,” Hongjoong explained.

“Oh, really? Where to?”

“The apartment complex around the corner.”

“Wait, building 1024?” you asked, your heart starting to race as you realized that the man you were crushing on could potentially be your building neighbor.

“Yes! Oh, wait, you live there too, right?”

“H-How do you know that?” you asked, your eyes wide open.

“It’s in your kid’s files since you’re listed as an emergency contact,” Hongjoong quickly explained while holding back a laugh as he realized how creepy it must sound that he knows where you live. “I only remembered because I looked through the database a couple days ago to see which of my students I might accidentally run into.”

“Oh… That makes sense…”

Just like that, the two of you sunk into a comfortable conversation while grocery shopping together— since you were neighbors, it only made sense for the two of you to leave the store together, right? And honestly, the more you got into the conversation, the more you realized that you really liked him. Thankfully, your heart wasn’t racing at the speed of light, but you found yourself developing more than just a crush on the guy. It wasn’t love— not quite yet, but you feared that it had the potential to get there if you didn’t keep your distance, and you had to out of respect for not only the teacher, but for your kid.

Being neighbors with your kid's teacher proved to have some advantages. For instance, Hongjoong offered to bring your kid back from school with him if you had to stay late at the office, or the two of you would go grocery shopping together, easing the long day you had, and your friendship with the man had developed to the point where he would come over for dinner sometimes, and you and your kid would go to his place.

You thought your kid would be weirded out by the unlikely friendship you made with their teacher, but you were proven wrong.

"No, Mr. Kim is so cool! He can play so many instruments, and he's real nice. I like him," your kid told you when you sat them down to make sure they were comfortable with how close you were to their teacher.

"So you're okay with mommy and Mr. Kim hanging out?"

"Yep. Honestly, mom, you should date him." Your jaw dropped and your eyes flew wide open— when did your kid learn about things like this?! They were eight years old for crying out loud! Then, your kid continued, "He's single, and you are too, and you both really seem to like each other."

"W-W-What are you saying?" you choked out, flabbergasted.

"I'm saying date him, mom," your kid said matter-of-factly.

"Oh my God, go get ready for bed, please," you let out a deep sigh and shooed them off.

"At least consider it—"

"Go!"

Laughing, your kid scurried off to the bathroom, leaving you baffled and shocked for many, many reasons. Your mind was reeling to the point where you seriously needed some air before you fell over, so you hollered to your kid in the bathroom that you would be right back, left the apartment, and decided to go to the roof, only to see Hongjoong leaning against the railing and looking up at the sky.

"H-Hongjoong! H-Hi!" you stuttered, your kids words still weighing heavily on your mind. "I had no idea you were out here..."

"Oh, good! Come here and join me," Hongjoong gestured for you to join him at the ledge.

You slowly made your way over and stood next to him, leaving a little room between the two of you out of respect and, honestly, for your sanity. But, when you looked to the side and at him, you felt like daffodils and other flowers were blossoming all around him, the man sparkling under the moonlight, the soft smile on his face making you want to scream or cry or run away or all of the above.

"So," you started. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, just... Star-gazing," he responded with a gentle sigh.

"I see..."

You nodded and turned your head to the sky. You lived in the city, so there weren't many stars to look at— actually, you had no idea which stars Hongjoong was even looking at because you seriously couldn't see anything.

"So, you see that star right there?" Hongjoong asked as he pointed at the sky.

You looked, but you couldn't see a single thing even with his finger hovering near the star.

"No, I don't," you admitted.

"Here, right..." Hongjoong took your hand and folded your fingers so that only your pointer finger was out before holding it up and positioning your finger to where he wanted you to look. "Right there."

Your eyes followed your finger, and finally, you were able to see what he was looking at. You were dazed— the star was shining so brightly, and somehow, you missed it. Then, he proceeded to explain to you the significance of that star, and while he was explaining it, you were even more dazed and in complete and utter awe of the man. Soon, you weren't looking at the sky, but at him. You watched him explain the stars passionately, the soft smile on his face spreading warmth through your chest, and when you spotted the little mole on his neck, your heart started beating erratically.

"What? What is it?" Hongjoong suddenly cut himself off when he realized you had been staring at him and not at the stars.

"Huh?" you managed out when you snapped out of it.

"You've been staring at me, Y/N," he chuckled softly.

"Have I? Oh, dear, I'm so sorry..."

"Is there something on my face? You were staring pretty intently."

You were rendered mute. You had no idea what to say to him to save your skin. You couldn't admit to him or yourself that you were staring at him because he was just so gosh darn pretty, but you couldn't come up with an excuse for your behavior.

Hongjoong, suddenly realizing that he was still holding your hand, let go of your hand and leaned back slightly. A dusty rose blush rose to his cheeks as he looked away coyly before a slight look of disappointment painted his face.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I must've made you uncomfortable just now..."

"What? O-Oh, no, you didn't..."

A brief silence filled the space between the two of you. You knew that both of you wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck. The words got even more stuck for you when Hongjoong closed the gap between the two of you, his hand nearing yours as they rested on the railing.

"So what brings you out here tonight?" he asked in attempt to clear the air.

"Oh, that," you couldn't help but laugh. "My kid was being silly, but got in my head, so I came out to clear it."

"Yeah? Silly about what?"

"That you and I should date because we both apparently like each other."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you covered your mouth in complete and utter shock. You had no actual intention of revealing that conversation with the man, but you had completely let your guard down while talking about your kid with the one person you could trust completely with your kid, that it just slipped out.

"I'm so sorry!" you burst out before Hongjoong could say anything. "My kid— you know how silly my kid can be— and I— Well, I don't— I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable..."

Hongjoong couldn't help but burst into laughter at your reaction, the sheer happiness on his face making your heart swell up but sink at the same time when you realized he was laughing at the situation.

"Your kid really is something," he sighed as his laughter died down. "What do you think?"

"A-About what?"

"What your kid said. Do you agree?"

"Huh?"

With a soft smile, Hongjoong placed his hand over yours and earnestly looked into your eyes as he spoke softly, "I think your kid is right— that if two people like each other, then they should date. I don't know about you, but I do like you..."

"You... You do?"

Hongjoong responded by squeezing your hand gently, confirming his feelings for you.

"I, uh... I would have to agree, too, then..."

"What are you agreeing with?"

"Everything, because I like you, too, Kim Hongjoong."

flower garden masterlist

flower garden taglist: @eyeryis @sinnarols @k-hotchoisan @khjoongie98

networks: @atzhouse @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @newworldnet @wonderlandnet

[velvetures]

Heya I absolutely adore your writing and I would looove to request something like the “vulnerable” fic you wrote about ghost, but for könig instead. So much fluff and so many praises for our pretty boy, since I feel like he would show us his face but he’d be really anxious and self conscious about it. Feel free to decide if u wanna add nsfw content or not, I’m happy with whatever :))

Touch starved, intimacy craving cod boys will be the death of me 😔

Thank you in advance c:

Defenseless

a/n: so sorry I'm answering this so late, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless 🩶 this isn't the most in-depth... but I really tried to get the feels of it. summary: The Colonel has been stated as having something up his ass for nearly a week. no tw's that i know of...

The Colonel had been unusually insufferable for over a week at this point.

Barking demands, snarling at everyone in his path, making a total bloodbath out of the one mission assigned to him, and practically punishing all of his men during the two training sessions he’d deemed mandatory. He was on a tirade unlike anything you’d been witness to before, and there was hardly a place to escape from him. That only place being the garage which you had not-so-coincidentally been holed-up in after receiving a vehicle that was for less of better description… utterly fucked. But budget apparently didn’t allow for a replacement, so you’d been sent out to fix the helpless machine.

You didn’t necessarily consider yourself “co-workers” in the normal sense. You didn’t share office memos, or even work in office cubicles that shared a flimsy divider. The majority of your work with him came down to managing the transport to and from the base to their mission insertions. Be it helo or armor-truck, you were licensed and proficient. It gave you one of the most important jobs on base… Transporting the most dangerous men that KORTAC could throw at an enemy. And their massive, intimidating, hooded Colonel was included.

“I heard him chewing into a private’s ass for standing in front of his office door while he was sitting inside… with the door shut.” You overheard one of the mechanics chuckling from underneath of an LUV that had a leaking brake line.

A couple of the other guys joined in the conversation, ignoring your presence for all intensive purposes. You could only imagine that they were doing so simple because of how well attached you were to König in a more personal relationship. It had been nothing but professional and regulatory, but the sight of you lingering around the Colonel for more than absolutely necessary raised plenty of eyebrows around base. It just worked out that you had your entire top half of your body twisted in the engine bay of an MMPV that had taken enough IED damage to need a lot of maintenance and replacements. A pain in the ass you had been fussing over for hours just today; not even thinking about the fact that you’d been engrossed in the job for nearly a week.

“What’d you think Major?” One of the men calling out to you brought your attention away from a replacement coil-on-plug system sitting in a box, not touched yet on the wheel well to your right.

“About what?” You feign interest, not wanting to be caught listening in on conversation.

“The Colonel,” He clarified. “You seen whatever it is that has a stick up his ass sideways?”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t make a habit of checking the Colonel’s asshole…” If it’s not clear in your tone that you’re quite finished with the conversation, he doesn’t take notice.

“You’re pretty close with him aren’t you? Can’t you put in a good word for everyone on base… he’s practically frothing at the mouth!”

“I’m not a damn veterinarian either, Johns.” You warn, losing a bit of your patience.

It was one thing for König to swing his weight around like they were suggesting… it was another for him to have been struggling with something far more stressful than normal. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time a soldier took out frustration of the job on his fellow officers. Especially if he got a reality check that displayed just how fragile the system really was in times of actual strain. Not that you’d even had the chance to see him since this “tirade” began, but you could only imagine that something more than the obvious was going on behind that bleach-stained hood over his head.

Girly gossip from the small group of mechanics went on long into the evening. Theories stretching from a mission gone bad to some kind of personal insult from a superior. While the solutions to his “problem” oftentimes resulted in some kind of reference to his sex life being dry, or outright nonexistent. It all sounded ridiculous to you between cranks of your socket wrench or the occasional shrill of an impact drill.

Thankfully you could shut out the sounds for the most part, but by the time you’d found a decent stopping place, the sky outside the hangar had blackened for the night and the temperature dropped far enough that your breath misted in front of your face. It was plenty late enough to head back to your quarters and get enough sleep before being right back under the hood at first light without feeling totally miserable. You didn’t expect to run into the Colonel on your way back to your room.

From the way he walked alone, you could tell that he was exhausted. The toes of his boots skimming the ground a little more than normal, as well as the slight hunch is his typically unforgiving posture. König looked like he’d had his ass kicked before being asked to dig his own grave and crawl out of it. Hearing everyone complaining about his sour mood made even more sense than before, and you couldn’t blame him for sharing around the misery. Besides, he was one of the highest-ranking people on base… it was his reluctant responsibility to deal with people almost every second of the day.

He deserved a damn break…

“Hey! Colonel!” You called out just loud enough to make him stop. Begin careful enough to not just call him by his first time in the case that someone was listening in. His head snapped in your direction and he stiffened for a moment before recognizing you in the dark shadows of the night and parking lot lamps.

“Major…”

Chills rose on your skin hearing his roughened voice rolling your title off his tongue. He wasn’t the slightest aggressive, and you couldn’t quite decide if he was just sparing you his anger, or just worn himself down too much to care. You jog the distance between you, feeling some tension in your lower back from being bent over that damn truck all day. Hopefully it wouldn’t make König’s notice… he was always very particular about injuries or overuse with his direct-connection officers.

“Wie war dein Tag?” His eyes crinkle at the corners like he’s smiling under his hood.

At least that’s what you imagine he’s doing.

“It was alright,” You nod giving him a smile. “Working on your MMPV. It’s in a hell of a state, and I’m not sure I can fix her.” You mutter a bit quieter, mind drifting to the vehicle and the limited amount of actual repairs you could do without needing some additional parts or funding allotted for the repairs. König seemed to pick up on it for a moment, but he also ended up having half of his mind somewhere else for the time being.

“I understand…” You couldn’t be sure if he meant simple exhaustion or a shared feeling of being much in the same state as your armored car. “I’m certain with your attention, it will do more than survive the blow.”

You giggle softly, resting your hands on your hips and digging your thumbs into your lower back as nonchalantly as possible to hide the way your digits pressed and rubbed at the immense pressure building right above your hipbones. Your shared mental and physical abuse wasn’t the slightest bit new. It always felt like when you got to see König for any respectable amount of time something was wrong with one or both of you. Normally, it made for plenty of good jokes and light teasing. A good one didn’t come to mind, and the Colonel didn’t appear in the mood for banter either. Really, his voice didn’t even sound like it wanted to be present. Fading in and out of gravelly and growled tones between German-accented syllables.

“Are you retiring for the night?” His blonde eyebrow raised up above the ripped eyehole of his mask. You spared a glance at the roof which shielded your quarters from the elements. Damn near two-hundred yards away, as well. You hated thinking about the walk.

“Yeah, I figure I should head that way. It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get there if I don’t drag myself across the concrete like I want to.”

König chuckles lowly, bringing another smile to your face. You hoped it was a decent relief from what was bothering him so badly to make base feel like a war zone. The thought of being his first sign of something positive in days only intensified your joy of the thought. He takes his own glance in the direction of your rooms and then looks back to you with something of an appraising edge. Even scanning the immediate area for good measure before visibly losing some of the façade hiding his exhaustion.

“Drill in the morning?” He asks quieter, nodding his head for you to follow alongside him.

“No. Just working on that damn truck…” He chuckles again, giving you a softer look out of the corner of his eye.

“You can always stay with me,” He says quite a bit more offhanded than the offer really was.

There was no fucking way regulation would stand for it even if it was nothing more than a platonic pajama party. The mere thought of “the Major” and “the Colonel” being spotted leaving the same bedroom after a night alone would have them both court-martialed and discharged. Yet König handed out the offer easier than he could hand out candy to small children on Halloween. It spun you for a loop. Resulting in your feet welding themselves to the ground and your eyes widening as you turn to look up at him in question as to if you’d actually heard him correctly.

“Stay with you… stay… like, overnight?” The sentence alone felt so forbidden yet enticing in your mouth. König shrugs. A little more of his tension developing in his shoulders as you visibly see himself second-guessing such an intimate thing quite randomly.

“It was just an offer, Major.” He clarifies. “My quarters are much closer to your garage… and I’ve got everything you might need for one night away from your own bed.” He added with a soothing kind of tone.

But it left you just as anticipatory. He wasn’t this forward. At least, not in such a personal way. He didn’t phrase things this… domestic, directly and he sure as hell hadn’t ever thought to try it on you above all others. There was something more to this, and it wasn’t just due to the distance to your own quarters compared to his. A benefit for him lingered somewhere just below the surface of truth he’d been willing to speak about. Naturally, you weren’t about to take the first step in pushing him. So instead, you took the choice of playing the long game and allowing him to take the lead.

He is your superior officer, after all.

“You know… I might just take you up on those amenities, Colonel.”

His eyes crinkle again, giving you a second opportunity to wonder what his pretty mouth must look like when he smiles.

“If you stay, my rank stays outside. I don’t prefer answering to a title in my own home.” His low voice rumbles with an affectionate tone. One that makes you nod your head automatically, like he’d whispered some spell over you.

“Of course, sir.”

His quarters weren’t what you expected.

Instead of the typical grey walls and standard furniture, he’d went about the process of either collecting some more personal things or brought them from wherever he’d lived before now. The bed was actually massive, swallowing your position that a king size bed was more than large enough. The four posts around it had been stained a dark, ash kind of color over heavily grained wood. A desk sat over against the wall underneath of the one window in the room and while it was stained the same color, carved designs on the drawers and feet were different from the bed frame style. The walls were void of any pictures or art, bit there was enough personal touches scattered around that it pieced together a bit more of the mystery behind the Colonel’s personal life.

“It’s really nice,” Your compliment falls into the room softly, almost like you’re attempting to keep the atmosphere untouched by your presence. “Where’d you get all of your things from?” It wasn’t until after asking that you realized it might be too personal of a question considering his attitude.

He looked around and shrugged. “Antique stores,” He ran a gloved hand over the top of a nightstand next to him. “I liked the idea of fixing things… and I had the knowledge of how to do it.” Your insides twisted in interest at the idea of König being well-versed in woodworking. Images of the massive man knelt down with sandpaper and reaching the smallest nooks in the carved wood. Meticulous. Unwilling to take a shortcut… it made more sense the longer you thought about it. He walked up behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders gently, letting out a deep breath.

“I didn’t… invite you here just for convenience.” He admitted a bit shyly, fingers twitching to squeeze your shoulders just a little harder.

Ah, there it is…

“What did you let me in for?” You reply, turning to look over your shoulder and up at him with a friendly little smile. “Because I know it wasn’t for chocolates on the pillows and breakfast in bed when I wake up.”

Those big, dark, eyes glittered a little. Framing just a small bit of humor in an otherwise dark, painted and highly guarded expression in a well-defended man. It was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place. Hs ability to find some softness in an otherwise harsh and cruel world of voluntary service to country. A damn shame he’d found this world instead of another one that would be more welcoming… less bloody… but then again. You’d also found this world too, even if it was your pathway to simple drive into warzones instead of running into them with a rifle and a desire to be the last man standing.

“I need some… help.” He could see the question and concern on your face, but instead of even uttering a single word, he just moves away from you and sits down on the edge of his bed. His eyes polarize away from you and down to the gloves that he began struggling to get off with slightly trembling hands.

You debated. Tossing around so many ideas in your head that you began dropping them. Juggling too many problems and possible solutions all at once. Hoping that he would speak up, or give you some sort of help. König wasn’t the best talker. Never had been really, but often he’d give away something that let you in on the issues in his mind. He was a stone wall tonight. Sitting like a marble statue with nothing more than softened eyes looking away from you with a palpable desire for help; yet no ability within himself to say how. The first thing you didn’t like was that he still had on all of that gear. Between the flak jacket with all of his spare mags, the helmet, steel-toed boots, multiple holsters and a slew of other things, there was far too much on him for you to get close enough to finding a crack in that armor.

“Can I?” Stepping closer, and pointing towards his helmet you ask gently, testing his comfort. He just nods, not even willing to look up at you to check what you were even wanting to do.

You unbuckle it carefully, not wanting to tug on his hood and sit it down next to him on the bed. But right as you sit it down, you see him reach up and tug the material off to drop it down inside the helmet. His blonde hair is a mess. A bit sweaty and matted down from a days work, it falls over his forehead and down to his nose. It softens the stark color of black face paint smeared over the whole top half of his face. The process of breaking down the soldier piece-by-piece takes less than five minutes, and that even included a small fight over whether or not you should be allowed to take off his boots due to how “demeaning” he felt it would look to have you kneel down in front of him like that. Thoughtful as you found the idea, you still pointed out he was your superior officer and it only made sense that you take care of the “unimportant” tasks for him. What you really didn’t know what that he watched you unlace his boots with every intention of letting you know that it felt even more intimate than letting you be one of the few people who could see his face in typical circumstances.

“That’s better… right?” You murmur, running your fingers through his hair to try and unstick the hair stuck together with sweat.

He nods. “Ja, viel besser.”

You smile at his German, sitting down next to him close enough that your thigh presses against his and your shoulder rests tightly next to him. “How about you take shower? I think washing off the day might help out a bit.”

König shakes his head no and quickly decides on a better idea. One that ends up with you laying flat on your back and a 6’10 man laying with his head on your stomach and his body nestled between your legs. His arms stay bent by his sides, resting weight on his elbows to resist laying his entire weight on you but his hands palm both sides of your ribs intentionally. His fingertips pressing between the dips of your ribs and the warm exhale of his breaths fanning against your stomach. It feels uncommonly desperate. Sensing the undeniable behavior of a man needing touch. Closeness from another human instead of the victory of a battle alone, or the knowledge that he’d lived another day without dying a horrible death. That thought alone has you wrapping your arms around his head and holding him tightly. Cradling him as well as you can to make him feel safe and protected even though his feet are hanging off the bed. Your heart pinches in regret that you’d not thought of coming to see him sooner. At least defending him in front of the others who’d been hellbent on making him out to be an asshole for having such a rough week.

Fuck.

He’d almost groveled like a puppy on its belly for you to touch him.

“You smell like cinnamon,” He mutters with his mouth slurred in the extra fabric of your shirt. “I like that… reminds me of my mother’s cinnamon rolls.” The memory is audible; softening his words and making that German accent thicker with exhaustion and comfort of being wrapped up in your arms.

You giggle very softly, pushing his hair off his face. “I’m surprised I don’t smell like grease.”

“Nein… du riechst wie zu hause.” His reply is gravelly and warm.

You close your eyes and settle back against the bed. “You know I don’t know German well enough to understand that…” He laughed softly, squeezing your sides with his massive hands.

“Do you think I’m not aware?” A laugh escaped you and as a retaliation you tapped the top of his head in a small, soft, shun. “I like saying things to you in German… it makes saying the truth easier sometimes.”

When his hands slid further under your body to fully encompass your waist, he buried his nose into your stomach and took a deep, relaxed breath. Nuzzling tighter into you and rubbing his face into your shirt like he was attempting to rub his scent and face paint off on your shirt. Neither option sounded the least bit bad. Wishing that he would fully immerse himself in you if it would make him feel better. Ease that misery festering in the back of his mind. Beginning to settle in, you started running your fingertips up and down his back. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt as you went, and tracing out the defined lines on his shoulder blades and rippled lats stretching over his ribs. Each pass either smoothing the pads of your fingertips, or giving him a slight scratch with blunted nails. Earning some German mutters and contented grumbles vibrating against your stomach.

“Du kilngst… wie ein… bär.” Your German feels quite juvenile, but König’s short huff of amusement gives you enough satisfaction that the lighthearted jab had reached him. He nips at your hip with his teeth, making you jump in surprise and giggle nervously.

“Isn’t there a saying… ‘don’t poke the bear?’.”

“I thought you were a King, not a bear?”

He shakes his head, a little slow on a comeback. “Either way, I’ll prove my dominance.”

You chuckle softly. “Don’t bother, I’m more than content to stay just like this.” You hum, returning to the smooth up and down movement of your hands on his wide expanse of a back.

“I’m happy to stay like this as well,” He mutters, stretching out a bit more. “However, I don’t like where you are.” Suddenly a bit nervous that you’d not been playing this situation properly, you freeze for a moment.

“I can move if you’d like?”

Suddenly a bit nervous that you’d not been playing this situation properly. He shifts a bit, putting more weight back onto his knees with a small grunt before snatching you up far enough to roll you onto your side and settle himself behind you as if you weren’t any bigger than a teddy bear meant for pure comfort and warmth. A muscled and tattooed arm vicegrips your chest and the other arm slides under your head to prop up your head. Instantly turning the role of comfort you’d been happy to provide into a much different situation.

“Can’t do much laying like this.” You protest a bit, attempting to turn over to face him so you can at least return to touching him.

“No, you fit right… shaped to me.” He slurs; tightened his grip and shook his head, resting his nose right in the crook of your neck. One hand slides under your shirt and reaches up far enough to rest his forearm against your chest and make a half-collar around your neck with his hand. He feels hot to the touch, and while you would’ve shied away from any other man touching you in such a way, König doing it felt right. As if there was something connecting you to him other than a simple recognition of the desire for a human connection that wasn’t painful. A different kind of dominance, creating a safe place for himself, but also for you in the way the curve of his hand fit right at the base of your throat.

“Touching you like this… it makes me feel more powerful than any firefight I’ve won.” He states, further resting his upper body against your back. “Like all of the mistakes i’ve made were worth making; just so I could have a moment to feel invincible laying in my own bed.”

It’s deep. Touching. Reaching right down into the bottom of your soul and wrenching it with an iron-grip so warm that you feel a heat rise in your throat.

“That sounds like something you should tell a woman you love, not just me.” You whisper, sliding your own hand under your shirt to hold his hand.

As if he could, he attempts to pull you tighter against him.

“I just did.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 8: SEX MACHINE Vinsmoke Brothers 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @shogunfura ➡ Hi hi Sashi 😊 I saw your kinktober Event and you know how much I love the vinsmokes, soooo I neeeed to request something. I was thinking about day 8 sex machine if it's not already taken. So as an extra kink I would say foursome, cause I would like all three of them 🤤 Gender should be female with she/her pronouns please 😊 I hope you feel better these days. I know that you had a hard time and I just want to let you know that I'm rooting for you, even though I'm not that active. I always appreciate the time and effort you put into your fics. Keep up the good work, I love to read your entrys 🙈😊 ➡ thank u so much sweetheart, please enjoy! 💖💖 tw: mdni. usage of a "sex machine". tubes, inflation, suction and filling with liquids (heavily inspired on those echhi comics with tubes and tentacles :P). oral. vag. nipple play. depravity. could be considered dark content, so read it under your own risk. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Prince Ichiji… what- what is this?” “Our new invention, do you like it (Name)?” “I- yes… ngh…”

You were used to have fun with the Germa princes. They don’t treat you like a slave like they do to other women; you could say are one of them. Being the princess of another reign aligned to the Germa 66 one, you are free to visit them as they are to visit you. And those visits include rough, savage, violent sexual encounters. Sometimes together, sometimes with one of the sibling. But all of them based in pure lust and depravity that fill your hollow hearts.

That Sunday afternoon, after getting tea with the guys, they invited to meet their new “toy”.

You should have at least suspected. It should have been clear to you that what were you gonna fid inside that sterile lab looking room was machinery for… pleasure.

A table, similar to a hospital bed, lies in the middle of the room. Around several computers with a variety of tentacle like tubes.

“Would you like to be the first one to try, Princess (Name)?” Vinsmoke Niji asks, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You don’t think much, you have no choice but to cooperate. The one asking is the least comprehensive than the three of them.

“Mh… yes” you murmur, as your royal attire gets already untied by those irreverent hands.

And soon, completely nude, you are invited to sit on the cold surface of that “bed”.

Ichiji Vinsmoke comes closer to you, as he is the one entitled to operate the main computer.

“There… get comfortable for me, ok?” he says, pushing the button ON on a wide keyboard on what looks like the main console of the machine.

You wait in silence, smiling uncomfortably to the two brothers looking at you with their pants already tenting. If they were animals, they be frothing at the mouth. The reflex of your nudity over the metallic bed gives them a beautiful, mirrored image of your already wetting sex.

A few sounds catch your attention, and soon you notice Ichiji holding the first tube in his hands.

“So, the first one should be connected to… your right nipple” he murmurs, as if he was a doctor ready to perform surgery on a patient. Except that you are able to listen, and completely awake for that matter.

The tube instantly attaches to your nipple with negative pressure, imitating the sucking motions of their lips.

Then, with no words but a side smirk, Ichiji connects yet another tube to your other nipple.

You are already trying to stop yourself from squirming, as the sucking intensifies, and it feels absolutely amazing.

“You are liking it already, (Name). Aren’t you?” Yonji asks, coming closer to you by the other side of the bed.

You nod, biting your lips but never taking all of the attention away from Ichiji. He is the one controlling the mysterious sex machine, and you wonder what else will be attached to -or inserted in- your body at any moment.

And indeed, in his hand he takes yet another tube but this time with no attachment by the end of it.

He shows it to you with that smirking that never fades away from his lips. Your already desperate façade reflects on his cherry red glasses.

“Now, we have already played with vibrators. But I believe never with a suction toy, right?” he asks you, pondering something.

“I- no- no. we ne-ngh-ver” you barely answer as the sucking in your nipples become stronger every second it passes, with different patterns that you are mostly sure will be imitated in your sex.

“Good, suction it is then. Don’t worry, though. There will be vibration either way” he says, laughing at Niji who apparently enjoys that last part most than the rest.

An attachment, that reminds you of an oxygen mask, gets fixed into the tube and such tube gets directed towards your sex.

Immediately after, the suction begins. Pumping air can be felt, and your clit feels like exploding in a matter of seconds. This time it is almost impossible for you to rest still.

As you squirm, receiving a pleasure ever taken by your body, you notice Yonji’s desperate erection coming closer to your lips.

You wonder if that’s all, but you are surely wrong. And even if you wish to be sucking his dick right now, your squirming motions aren’t making it easy.

“Ichiji, she won’t stop moving” Yonji grunts, protesting as your lips can’t surround his shaft comfortably as he wishes.

“That’s why you should wait, but if you can’t let me hold her still for you” he says, typing a couple of unknown words on the computer.

You widen your eyes, not knowing exactly what’s about to happen but soon you learn cold metallic straps have trapped you against the bed.

“There, beast. Fuck her mouth” Ichiji says, while your mouth receives the impertinent sex of the youngest of them all.

You aren’t mad as the salty flavour of his precum fills your tongue, but you aren’t definitely comfortable either. The shackles are hurting your wrists and ankles, but pleasure is stronger to notice such pain.

As you gag and tear up from the deep rams of Yonji’s dick against your throat, you feel an explosive climax reaching you. You let it happen, you don’t need to hold back, you really needed relief.

But a single orgasm won’t be enough, and nor you are having a time off after it. In fact, Niji, who is standing by your feet is ready to play with your body too.

“Ichiji, let go one of her feet” he asks, in between your muffled moaning and the sound of your skin slapping against the bed.

The red-haired brother surely turns his eyes white but allows your right leg to be freed. Niji, traps it and takes your toe into his mouth. Who knew the blue demon liked feet that much.

He gets your toe completely dampened and then continues with the rest of the feet, only to take it to his freed sex.

“Move it up and down, bitch” he moans, while you feel the wetness of his sprouting precum on his tip, mixing with his saliva.

And to his grunts, Yonji add his. Filling, with no shame, your mouth of his cum. You choke with it, giving them the imagery of white sticky product running through the commissure of your lips.

“That’s good, bitch” Yonji celebrates, cleaning -smearing- your face off his own cum.  

You blink repeatedly, with your head in the clouds and probably unaware of what’s coming for you next.

And it is, indeed, the second brother who’s already crawling on top of the bed. He is not willing to wait, and apparently your foot against his shaft isn’t satisfying him no more.

Ichiji laughs at your reaction when seeing Niji topping you all of a sudden. He pulls the suction cup on your sex, making you mewl. It didn’t hurt, indeed, it felt amazing.

“Look at how inflamed you are… so pretty” Niji laughs, playing with your swollen labia and squirting liquids.

You swallow the left overs of Yonji’s cum, it is hard to do so as it sticks down the walls of your throats. But you don’t mind, you will drink plenty of water after -that if, you survive this-.

The sudden intrusion makes you whine, but it does not surprise you. Niji’s dick has been several times inside you, and this is yet another one of those. However, as you are swollen, a lot more sensitive and needy, the ramming motions of his hips are better than ever.

Ichiji has release your other foot so that your legs are now resting on Niji’s shoulder. But still, you wonder what is his gonna do next.

By the side of your eye, you take a swift look at what he holds in his hands, and it is yet another tube he seems to be preparing.

Several are the minutes of uncontrollable and merciless fucking Niji blesses you with, and several are also the times you come with him and the sucking cups on your nipples still attached to you.

And right after he finishes filling you up, it’s time for the first born to have fun. Him whose king qualities always shine the brightest, moves his brother to the side before kissing your lips with a soft peck.

But don’t let it fool you. He might be more delicate, and maybe even more put together… but the red haired one, is the cruellest of them all.

“See this, (Name)? Do you know what this is?” he asks, showing the tube in his hand. It is different from the rest, it looks to be dripping with some kind of lubrication liquid.

“N- no… wha- what is it?” you ask, this time for real scared.

He smirks, taking off his glasses and flashing his blue irises to you. “Ah… this is my special one. My creation” he scoffs, walking slowly to your feet.

“See… you have just experienced suction and penetration separately. But, now I want you to experience everything and more at the same time”

A couple of shackles are now holding your legs spread apart to almost feeling like breaking your body in half. You understand that in case pleasure gets too high, you won’t be able to even close them as a natural response.

“Now, allow me to insert this… you will feel your womb a little… full” Ichiji says, sticking that cold tube into you.

A soon warm and cold mix of some liquid begins to fill you up; you feel a bulge forming in your lower belly.

“Wh- what is it?” you ask, with widen eyes but still squirming because it feels unexpectedly good.

“It’s a bio liquid I developed, it will enhance your sensations” he informs you, violently pressing down your belly. “Try to hold it…” he jokes, knowing too well it would be almost impossible to do so.

Yet, your walls work hard not to let a single drop scape your womb. And it makes you tremble, as the pressure plays against your G spot like nothing before.

“Ichi-Ichiji… this- is amazing…” you huff. No amount of air is enough.

“I know, right… but what if I add a little bit of this? will you be able to hold it in?” he murmurs, while the tube inside of you begins to vibrate.

You close your eyes. Painfully trying to stop the contents inside of you to come out… this time, losing the battle, dripping down the liquids all over the bed, having yet another orgasm…

“Honey… you are ready for me now” “Fuck her rough, brother!”

taglist: @stephisokay @henrioo @shuzuiikoii @bullbonez @fengxinwifutobecalled @i-started-reading-fanfics-at12 @crimsonlikeshellsing @weebare808 @thestarwasborn @bookandyarndragon @cyberdazetragedy @uzxotic and @kwnblack because come on, vinsmokes are our guilty pleasure 💖🤭

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Dead Weight On A Saturday Morning

So this was inspired by a comment from @callof-beauties on this story I wrote here about König yelling at his soldiers. The thought essentially boiled down to 'but what if he yelled at us like that' and I realized that both due to König not wanting to be that loud without a good reason and the physical limitations to being able to indulge, König wouldn't really be able to yell at you quite like that.

Would he totally have the meanest and nastiest tone as he whispers all sorts of nasty degrading shit into your ear? Absolutely. 100%. There's no doubt about that. But yelling? He can't do that.

Of course, reader doesn't know this, so reader fucks around and finds out just how König'll punish them for trying to make him mad.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: Reader purposefully trying to anger König, König being a bit heavy, pretty much pure fluff

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Dead Weight On A Saturday Morning

Ever since you’d seen König at work, you’d been insatiable. You needed König to yell at you like he yelled at his trainees. You were feral, frothing at the mouth and doing everything in your power to drive König up the wall. You needed him more than you needed oxygen at this point. Unfortunately for you, König hadn’t picked up the memo.

Rather, König had just turned into an awful grouch. A part of you knew that the single answer to your problem was the beautiful term ‘communication’ but you couldn’t help yourself. Part of the excitement was getting him to do it spontaneously. After all, that was the whole goal, right? Get him worked up and watch the fireworks fly.

Of course, König was König and whenever König was involved in a plan, things were bound to go awry. You had to wonder how he ever became a colonel when he was a magnet for disaster. That said, König was a disaster for other people, not for himself. He could walk through Hell unscathed yet leave a trail of mass destruction in his wake. It was almost supernatural. You heard the stories from Horangi, how König would be perfectly comfortable sipping his drink while a brawl was wrecking the room around him. König, if he noticed at all, showed no signs.

This of course meant that whenever you planned for a specific reaction with König involved, the Austrian would gleefully (obliviously) throw a wrench into whatever wild machinations you were constructing. It was bizarre how effortlessly he screwed up everything around him. You had to wonder if he was actually oblivious, or if he was perfectly aware yet happily upturning any and all plans he encountered. It was a maddening life of chaos around him, with him sitting all content in the eye of the hurricane as he sipped his morning coffee.

This morning, however, you determined things would be different. You were sure of that. You were perfectly sure in your actions because you’d finally be violating the one rule of the household: don’t disturb König’s coffee time.

It was a simple yet effective rule. König was a coffee snob like no other. You’d tried to make him coffee in the morning when you first lived together, but he’d pretty quickly shooed you away to fix your mistakes. Of course, your greatest offense was using that abhorrent sludge you referred to as ‘instant’ coffee. He’d sniffed and called it instant laxatives, and that was the last day you ever had instant coffee in your house.

Over time, you learned König’s routine and managed to replicate his preferred brew perfectly. It was a strange combination of brewing for a set amount of time using bottled spring water he specially ordered online and steaming milk to a set temperature before cooling it to pour into König’s mug. On special days, he might even go for a spoonful of coconut sugar. Not caster, not brown, heaven forbid refined, but coconut. It had to be coconut or else he’d throw a hissy fit.

Today, of course, you knew König was champing at the bit for that spoonful of sugar and you’d be happy to provide. You choice of sugar, of course, being the dreaded white sugar that he so despised.

Of course, his coffee wasn’t all. König was a beast of habit, and little traits of his stuck with him since childhood. He had to have his orange juice in a small glass (‘I could never have more than a single serving! That would ruin my calorie distribution for the day’) and a cup of milk. Once he drank his milk, he’d wash his glass and fill it with water to chase down the milk. You’d asked him why, and he had only shrugged and told you it was good to stay hydrated. He had then gone into detail about why your morning nutrition was key to a successful day, then proceeded to nitpick your breakfast and accompanying drink until you’d been so sick of his madness that you left back to the bedroom to sleep for another hour.

So, with König’s eccentric tendencies surrounding his morning routine in mind, that morning you placed König’s mug on his special coaster (knit by his Oma to celebrate his entrance into the army) before sitting across the table and waiting.

König was none the wiser, and who could blame him? You were his ever-faithful partner. You’d never dare to betray your beloved husband, would you? Never! Or at least, not until today.

König flipped through his book idly.

“Whatcha reading?” you asked as casually as you could while sipping your orange juice.

“‘A Brief Survey of Austrian History’,” he replied as he turned a page, “by Richard Rickett.”

“Is it any good?” you asked.

“It’s decent. There are some minor inaccuracies scattered throughout, but for the most part it’s a good read,” König said as he skimmed the page before turning the book to you, “here’s a nice drawing of Prince Eugene of Savoy.”

It was a beautiful black and white copy of what was obviously a commissioned portrait, the man in question with a full white wig and a high forehead, a pronounced nose and a subtle smile. He seemed so at ease, very unlike König in just a moment.

“Did he do anything cool?” you asked.

“I’m at the part where they’re discussing what he did on the eastern front,” König explained, skimming the page with a finger, “he apparently became quite the statesman after his success on the fields.”

“That’s interesting,” you sipped your drink a bit too loudly to be accidental.

König’s finger paused on the page as his eyes glanced up from the little book. He stared at you carefully before flicking back to the book, a quiet recognition of your rude behavior and a silent warning to stop. 

“So what’re you doing today? It’s the weekend, so you gotta have some plans, right?” you watched him carefully.

“I was hoping to catch up on some reading today after I cut the grass,” König drawled, “maybe paint a couple of those soldiers my brother gave me at Christmas. It’s been months and I haven’t even touched them! He’d be horrified.”

“You sure do like your armies,” you mused.

“They’re perfect for my dioramas,” König muttered, “but aside from that, I expect Horangi or one of my sisters to bother me about something soon enough. They usually keep me busy.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty busy,” you nodded slowly.

König, polite as ever, made no move to ask about your plans and instead focussed on his reading. Once, you’d have been offended. Now you were just exasperated more than anything else. You should really know better than to try and talk to him when he’s reading, but you still sometimes wished he’d put his book away and actually talk, but that was a lot to ask for the quiet man.

You watched carefully as König made his way through his orange juice. Every so often, he’d dip his soldiered toast into the runny yolk of his egg, take a bite, and then put it away until he turned the page. When dealing with König, patience was key to success.

Soon, König had finished his orange juice (along with his toast) and had pulled a tray of fruits in front of him. He resettled himself on his chair with a grunt and lifted his cup of coffee. He took a sniff, then scrunched his brows.

“Is everything alright?” you asked slyly.

“Should be,” König muttered before taking a slow sip. He pulled his lips into a line. He took another sip. His brows knit tightly together. He took a final sip and put his coffee down.

You were practically vibrating with excitement.

König leveled you with a steely stare and flatly said, “No.”

You raised an eyebrow, “No?”

“No,” he grunted and drew himself up before slumping back in his chair with a huff, “I’m not doing it.”

“Doing what?” your eyes widened, shock and horror making your heart skip a beat in your chest.

He looked at you with an exasperated face, “I’m not yelling at you.”

“What!” you scoffed, “what do you mean? What-what are you talking about!?”

König closed his eyes and took a long breath in before slowly drawing it out his nose, “I know you think it’s hot when I yell, but I can’t do that to you. And again, I don’t want the neighbors to know.”

You groaned. The jig was up, and unfortunately König had played his cards expertly.

“If I raise my voice even just a tiny bit,” König explained with patience that rivaled that of a parent or a saint, “if I yelled, our neighbors would know everything.”

“These walls are pretty well insulated,” you huffed petulantly.

“Maus,” he sighed, “when I yell I can easily fill an entire parade square. If I have an army marching behind me, the farthest man at the back can still hear me yelling at them. I am too loud to yell at you in bed. Anyways, how would that even work? I fuck you and scream in your face? Maus that make no sense.”

“I mean, maybe we could go to an abandoned forest or like…” you trailed off with a sigh, “you’re not gonna do it, are you.”

König shook his head slowly as he took another long sip of coffee. Loudly, you noted.

“Okay but can’t you do something like that?” you whined.

“I can maybe raise my voice a bit,” König relented, “I can try and shift my tone too. I think you’re more after the tone than the volume, I’ll be honest, but I’m not having our neighbors think I’m an abusive husband.”

You paused.

“Oh it would sound like that, wouldn’t it,” you mused.

“If I called you a dirty whore that needs a good slap?” König laughed, “ja! Ja I would! Maus please, I borrowed Austin’s weed whacker to cut our grass today. How could I look him in the eye if he thought I beat you?”

You nodded slowly. That certainly threw a wrench in your plans, but then again, such was König’s specialty. You were thoroughly beat. König was completely right. There was no way he could yell at you like he did his soldiers. Of course you’d accept a compromise, but it just wasn’t quite the same. Well, beggars can’t be choosers, you thought with a sigh.

“But,” König put down his now empty mug, “you can’t just do this,” he gestured to the mug, “and think I’ll just ignore it. You’ve been pestering me all week, and wouldn’t you know? My schedule for the weekend just opened up!”

A thrill raced down your spine.

“You, Maus,” König stated as he picked himself up from his seat, “are coming with me.”

And with that, he hauled over his shoulder. To your surprise, he didn’t make his way back up the stairs to bed, but rather to the plush sofa you’d put in the living room. Without any proper decorum or grace, he threw you down onto the ottoman with a laugh.

You turned to ask what he was doing when he promptly sat down on your gut and kicked his feet up onto the stool. He laughed at your pathetic wheeze as he turned on the television.

“Get the fuck off of me!” you managed to spit out under the 250 lb weight now sat neatly on top of you.

“Oh look!” he commented, “little Maus is squeaking!”

You grumbled and groaned.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," König drawled, "you wanted a big man to punish you, put you in your place, ja? And I did! You're right where you belong! Underneath me."

"I didn't mean it like this!" you whined.

He ignored your desperate please for mercy as he flicked through your subscriptions, finally deciding on a dreaded movie.

“No you’re not making me watch it!” you screeched and flailed under the heavy mass on top of you, but with a scooch he was firmly seated on top, happily ignoring you whinging as the Netflix logo flashed on screen.

“Stoppit!” you spat and hissed, but König was happy to ignore you.

Your deadweight of a husband looked down at you from the corner of his eye, “I’ve been wanting to watch some history documentaries on Netflix, see how good they are. You’re not opposed, are you?”

“Get the fuck off of me you fatass,” you snarled back.

“Oh good,” König turned back to look at the screen, “I’ve got a few lined up that I want to watch.”

König fell into a comfortable silence as the narrator began regaling the stories of Einstein’s involvement in the Heisenberg project, happily ignoring your writhing and squeaking with ease.

“I should’ve gotten some snacks,” König muttered as he ground himself into your bones.

“I hate you so much.”

Story Masterlist

[konigsblog]

I'm frothing at the mouth, I'm so mad I haven't found your blog sooner?? I've been wanting dark content for cod and your work is MWAH, chefs kiss. Totally up to you but if you can think of anything with older step brother Ghost I'll give you my soul tbh

thank you!!! i'm happy you've found my account as i have a lot of filty, dark ideas rotting my mind away!!! :(((

// stepcest. older!stepbrother!ghost who makes fun of you for wearing skimpy clothing. your tiny pjama shorts riding up your ass, your ass cheeks just visible from underneath. his eyes wander all over your figure, looking around before slapping your ass, giving it a squeeze and walking away with a cruel smile stained om his face :(

mm', at some point, he might just take you to a motel for some more privacy and bounce you on his lengthy cock - the tip prodding against your bruised cervix as you scream your stepbro's name :( his grasp on your hips leaving indents as he fucks into you, bucking his broad hips against your tight rear and shooting strings of sticky, warm seed into your slick hole.

your stepbrother is in the military, so he sends you some pictures of his stiff cock, pumping his size and fisting his lengthy dick before spurting cum all over his hand. you both share a few videos and photos; you riding a dildo that's a replica of his girth, squirting all around it and biting your lip to supress your screams and mewls.. otherwise, you'd be screaming your stepbrothers name as you came and that wouldn't look good if someone heard :(

grrr, and when he's back, his hands are all over you. from face fucking you to fucking you against a wall, drilling his thick cock into your clutching, tightening hole as you beg for him to go harder on you!!! you're not used to having his lengthy size in your desperate pussy, all wet and sloppy as he uses your hole like a fleshlight :( mm', he can't help it!!! you're perfect for him!!!

i bet he's so toxic and slut shames you too. probably calls you degrading, humilating names before grabbing you by your waist and dry humping you 'til his tight boxers are stained from his milky cum, dripping from his pink tip as he thrusts into your fully clothed ass :(