#muzzled request

[feralghxuls]

big boy brain rot. big boy sandwich. aether/mountain/ifrit. make mountain tremble, absolutely keening, between them.

big boy brainrot INDEED. 970 words of it

Mountain is losing his mind. Pressed between Aether and Ifrit, their hands gentle on him, him clinging to them. Aether’s cock is already buried deep inside him, and Mountain rocks down onto it, whining. He bumps his face against the crook of his shoulder; all he wants is to bury his face against him, but he’s restricted by his muzzle, jutting out and keeping him far away from Aether’s skin. He whines louder, turning to Ifrit and dropping his forehead on his shoulder. Ifrit’s hand strokes through his hair, over the straps across the back of his head, lingering. 

Mountain lifts his head, pleading silently with him. Ifrit’s face crumples into sympathy and he leans forward, pressing his lips to Mountain’s forehead.

I know. I know, I wish we could take it off, but we can’t, Ifrit murmurs, stroking his hand down Mountain’s back. We’ll make you feel good, though. I promise.

He makes good on that promise, dropping a hand between them to take Mountain’s cock in hand, stroking him slowly. Mountain groans, rocking between Ifrit’s hand and Aether’s cock and it’s overwhelming, but it’s not enough. He chitters low in his throat, reaching to where Ifrit’s cock presses against his thigh, pitching forward and halfway pulling off Aether.

You want me too? Ifrit asks, his touch so gentle on Mountain’s cheek as he nods desperately. Behind him, Aether lets out a low groan, pressing closer as his cock twitches and he buries himself in Mountain again.

Yes. Please. Please, I– 

Okay. Okay, we got you. We’ll take care of you, Ifrit says, his voice soft and taking the edge off the burning desperation that fills Mountain’s entire being. 

He bows his head against Ifrit’s shoulder, trembling and whining softly as Ifrit shifts, moving him with little effort until the head of his cock presses against Mountain beside Aether’s. He can’t help it; his claws sink into Ifrit’s arms as he sinks in, the stretch sending hot pleasure unfurling up his spine. He’s begging wordlessly, clinging hard until Ifrit finally bottoms out. Mountain lets out a broken groan, melting back against Aether’s chest, turning to bury his face against him, but Aether’s hand catches his jaw before he can, redirecting him to rest his cheek against him instead, saving Mountain the frustration. 

Easy, we’ve got you, Aether murmurs, pressing his cheek against the back of Mountain’s head as he starts to move, to slowly fuck up into him. Mountain shudders, his whole body shaking with the overwhelming intensity of it, already feeling like he’s unraveling at the seams. 

Aether’s arms settle around him, holding him tight. Mountain melts into it, another broken sound falling from his lips as Ifrit starts to fuck into him too. It’s slow, the two of them settling into an alternating pace, dragging inside him, burning him up from the inside out. Mountain’s head lolls, dropping back against Aether’s chest one moment and forward to Ifrit’s shoulder the next. He can’t keep still, struggling to rock down onto them, to lean into the fullness and let it shatter him apart. 

Mountain, Aether’s voice filters in through the blood rushing in Mountain’s ears, and he manages to look at him. His face is flushed, lips parted and his fangs digging into his lower lip and Mountain wants to twist around and kiss him. He can’t, though, and Aether is asking him something. Do you want us to knot you?

Mountain just groans, low and long, heat flooding him at the idea. He needs it. He’s going to die without it, and it’s going to be his undoing. 

We need an answer, babe, Ifrit prompts, cupping Mountain’s jaw and leaning forward to kiss at his temple. 

Yes, Mountain manages, nodding, melting forward against Ifrit, bumping that damn muzzle against him and giving a loud whine of frustration. It burns more than the stretch of Aether’s and Ifrit’s cocks inside him, but Ifrit’s hand on him, his slow strokes of his cock distracts him, turns the whine into a moan. 

It’s not long before their knots start to swell, before Mountain is even more of a wreck, lost in the overwhelming heat twisting through him at every subtle move. Ifrit comes first, his hand on the back of Mountain’s neck tightening as he groans and shudders through it, filling him up. That sends Aether over the edge, his head dropping to Mountain’s shoulder as he gasps and twitches and adds to the mess. Mountain’s far too stretched out by now for any amount of knotting to keep their cum inside him, and he lets out a low groan as he feels it start to drip. He’s full, so full, so overstimulated in all the best ways.

Ifrit’s still catching his breath, panting against Mountain’s neck as he mouths at him and starts to stroke his cock in earnest. Mountain is sure that he’s going to shatter into a thousand pieces, but he just clings to Ifrit and Aether and loses himself in it. It’s impossible to tell where the edge is, but he knows he’s tumbling over it when all the heat in his belly tightens and unfurls. His vision goes white as he comes, ears ringing and every muscle in his body locking up tight, trembling.

The next thing he knows, his forehead is pressed to Ifrit’s shoulder, there’s hands on him, stroking over his skin so gently. He’s shaking, his chest heaving for breath. Ifrit and Aether are both speaking to him, but the words have no meaning. Their softness sinks in anyway, gently piecing him back together until the sound returns to the room, his heart slows to a heavy thudding in his chest, and he melts between them.

Good boys. Cumulus’s voice filters in from somewhere across the room, and Mountain just whines quietly.

[serickswrites]

Could you write a story with a woman whumper who kidnaps a man? Maybe she’s married and her husband understands that this is something his wife has always wanted and their relationship has been struggling. He thinks this will rekindle their love. Maybe they’re both professors and they invite one of their students over for dinner and they drug his drink. He’s kept in a room or the basement but the husband is never allowed in there to see what his wife is doing with whumpee. But thankfully we’re allowed to know what’s going on in the room and she loves using a muzzle, collar, rope, handcuffs, etc on whumpee. I will love you forever if you could write this!! ♥️

Hey Anon! I can definitely write this for you, it's very specific, so I hope this is what you're wanting. The scenario sort of reminds me of the couple in The Gift or Anniversary.

Please enjoy!

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, muzzle, collar, strangulation, non con drugging, two whumpers, unconsciousness

Whumpee's world was hazy. It had been hazy ever since he took the drink his professor had offered him. He thought she had been so well meaning, so kind to invite him to her home for an extended study session. He was so desperate to improve his grade, he took her up on the offer.

That was his mistake.

Her husband had been home and had joined them. Making drinks for the three of them, though Whumpee had initially declined.

"I insist," Whumper's husband had said as he offered the tray to Whumper.

Whumper had placed the glass in his hand. "Drink," she ordered.

And that was when he realized he had fucked up. His world grew hazy and dark. When he awoke again, he was handcuffed to a chair in the basement. He couldn't open his mouth to scream which made him panic more.

"It's just a muzzle, it won't hurt you," Whumper cooed from the corner.

Whumpee thrashed trying to free himself. She was crazy. She was really crazy. "Darling," Whumper's husband called down the stairs, "when you're done with him, I'll start on dinner."

"Thank you, my love," Whumper called up the stairs.

They were both crazy. They both had to be crazy. That was the only plausible explanation Whumpee had.

"I'm going to take my time enjoying you," Whumper said as she stalked towards him. "You're mine now." She fingered the collar around his neck. "Which means you're mine to hurt," she twisted the collar tightly until Whumpee's air cut off. He choked for air, but Whumper didn't stop. "And you're mine to end when I grow tired of you."

She released her grip on his collar. Whumpee gasped for air. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

"MMMMM," he tried to scream around the muzzle.

"None of that," Whumper snapped.

"MMMMMM!"

Whumper backhanded him. "You are not to make a sound until I say you can."

"MMMMMMMMM!" Whumpee tried again. He had to. He couldn't not try.

Whumper stabbed his shoulder with a needle. "I hate when I have to resort to drugging them, it makes it far less fun for me."

Whumpee's world grew hazy once more. His head felt so heavy as he slumped forward. "No matter, I can still enjoy you like this," Whumper whispered in his ear. "I always find a way to enjoy myself."

Whumper's words were the last thing Whumpee heard as unconsciousness sucked him under. He couldn't breathe past the panic in his chest. But he couldn't stay awake any longer.

[thatsafuckeduptale]

i worked too hard on this to delete it but also i hate it so y'all get to have this ig

[soul-sketch-art]

Can you pls draw Makima from Chainsaw Man wearing a muzzle and straitjacket, akin to hannibal lecter? Ty :3

I'm sorry, I don't make psychopath and horror drawings

[galaxywhump]

For the Berkeley AU: Berkeley teasing Wren with the idea that Wren killed the only person who ever loved him/will ever love him/was capable of loving him

[SV-240 AU Masterlist]

contents: recapture, muzzle, insults, verbal abuse, referenced creepy/intimate whumper and forced relationship, victim blaming, self-loathing, death threats.

~~~

As if the restraints and the collar weren’t enough, it turns out that the duffel bag contains a muzzle as well. It doesn’t have a bit, but that doesn’t make it any more bearable, especially when Berkeley pulls the straps just a little too tight to ensure it never gets less uncomfortable.

Then, he takes advantage of Wren’s silence and talks, and talks, and talks, his words seeping like poison into Wren’s mind.

“Was Daniel really that bad, Rackham?” He’s busy cleaning the hideout, making it more homely, changing the sheets on just one of the bunks, confirming that Wren will be sleeping on the floor. “I mean, sure, he was kind of a weirdo, but who wouldn’t be after living on that planet for more than a decade.”

A weirdo. Wren frowns. Euphemism of the century.

“Speaking from experience, as far as sadistic buyers go, he wasn’t that bad," Berkeley continues, smoothing out the blanket on the bunk before sitting down with a satisfied sigh. “Especially when he decided to make you his sweetheart.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “And he was head over heels for you, happy like a highschooler with a crush. He had a weird way of showing it, but he must have really loved you. I’m sure he'd told you that a bajillion times.”

“I love you, Wren.”

“I love you too.”

The memories make Wren shudder, but he tries not to react otherwise and tune out Berkeley’s voice like he’d learned to tune out Daniel’s, to no avail. Daniel’s words were predictable. Berkeley’s are new, dangerous, and can at any point let him know what to expect before he’s killed.

“If you had given in, I think he would’ve stopped hurting you after a while. Then you’d be two happy lovebirds, or something.” He pauses for effect, then snorts. “Get it? Lovebirds? Because of your name? Fuck, my jokes suck now. And I blame you.”

This time it’s Wren’s turn to roll his eyes when Berkeley points his finger at him.

Still, unpleasant thoughts assault him, hit him like a powerful wave. If he had given in, he wouldn’t be here right now, waiting to be murdered, and before that - tortured. Daniel wanted to kill him too, but if it wasn’t for his escape, he would’ve had several more decades before his life was cut short.

And there were nice times, or as nice as they could be. Cooking together, working in the garden, lying down on the ground to look up at the sky visible among tree branches, swimming in the impossibly beautiful lake, playing board games - all, at least, until Daniel would take his hand, kiss him, whisper words of affection.

But there were other times. Times filled with pain and tears and useless begging, which he could never accept as part of his life.

“You know, Rackham, I’m just wondering… What if that was the best you deserved, and you blew it?”

Wren nearly jumps in place, shocked by the blunt question, his most disturbing thoughts verbalized as if Berkeley could read his mind. He shakes his head, but Berkeley isn’t even looking at him, lying on the bunk, staring up at the low ceiling of the hideout.

“You were a lonely mess before we caught you. That was the reason why I even agreed to sell you in the first place despite whose son you are. I wanted to refuse, but after watching you for a while I realized that no one would’ve missed you, that you could’ve just… disappeared and no one would have cared enough to question your death.”

The longer he talks, the worse Wren feels, curling up to hide the fact that he’s shaking like a leaf. He knows. He knows that he was depressed and lonely and pathetic, he knows he’d made himself an easy target, he knows, he knows, he knows, but he didn’t deserve to be kidnapped and sold, tortured and forced into a relationship he didn’t want, he deserved better, didn’t he?

“And Daniel didn’t mind all that. He liked your personality. If he hadn’t, he would’ve made sure there was nothing left of it.” Berkeley looks at him with a thoughtful frown. “He put up with you. Maybe he was the only one who could.”

Wren shakes his head again, doing his best to glare, but his mind betrays him, descending into self-loathing, agreeing with Berkeley’s words.

“No?” Berkeley scoffs. “You sure? Who else, then? Who else would even want to be around you? Who else could love you? I know you can’t talk, but it’s okay. We both know the answer.”

Nobody.

“Nobody,” Berkeley echoes his thoughts. “If we hadn’t caught you, you would’ve started drinking even more, making out with randos to get the illusion of someone liking you. If I hadn’t caught you, you would’ve realized you’d be alone for the rest of your life. You being a freakin’ hero now doesn’t change that.”

The muzzle makes it hard to breathe. Tears threaten to gather in his eyes, and his heart to crush his ribs.

“I hate your guts, but maybe you should be glad. It means I’ve spent enough time around you to feel some kind of way about you at all. To others you might as well be invisible.”

Stop it. Stop it, it’s not true. It's not.

“There was only one person capable of loving you, and he’s dead now.” Berkeley shakes his head, as if deeply disappointed.

He didn’t love me. It wasn’t love. I deserved better. I still do.

“Yes, Rackham, that’s good.” Berkeley smiles when tears overflow and trickle down Wren’s face, and his chest stutters with a choked sob. “Cry if you need to, but it won’t change a thing. You ruined everything.”

In his current state Wren can’t bring himself to disagree.

~~~

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @funky-little-glitter-bomb @goneuntil @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @renkocchi @whump-only @muddy-swamp-bitch @girlwithacoolcat @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @sophierose002 @whump-headspace @to-whump-or-not-to-whump @kixngiggles @ohwhumpydays @whumpvp @wibbly-wobbly-whump @stab-the-son-of-a @his-unspoken-words @pumpkin-spice-whump @onlyhappywhenitpains @suspicious-whumping-egg @morning-star-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @springwhump

[introjis]

bird stim emojis + a muzzle!

[takuhasfallen]

hi op!! I got a request: can you please draw SCP-1471 but she's wearing her orange prison jumpsuit and her mouth is muzzled? ty!!

Hello! Thank you for the request, I've never drawn an SCP before but I hope I drew her alright :3

[glambots]

Not a request but I couldn't believe that Bonnie was real when Ruin dropped, I thought everyone was coping until I saw it in a thumbnail

Yeah!! Glamrock Bonnie Real Babey!!!

[cheerclaw]

could i get a shrikesong? (:

did i ever warned that i was going to heavily style these requests?

[vintagesewingmachine]

need more media with rabid men in muzzles. where

[feralghxuls]

okay look hear me out, i've had this thought in my head for days and it won't leave me alone and you're the only one i trust with it

swiss is (outwardly at least) utterly unbothered by being muzzled because rain puts him in one recreationally more often than he'd admit to

THANK U MAL i love this one and i literally wrote it in one sitting just now sdjjsf

It’s a quiet evening in the abbey, most of the pack scattered across the couches and armchairs in one of the common rooms. There’s a movie playing on the TV, though only a few of them are paying attention to it, half of them dozing, the quiet snuffles and snores of sleeping ghouls mixing with the sound of the movie. Swiss is curled up with Cumulus, his arms snug around her and his head on her chest while she idly runs her hand through his hair. It’s comfortable, quiet, and most days he’d be happy to drift off like this.

Today, he’s waiting. It creeps slowly up his spine, churns quietly in his stomach. He tries to pay attention to the movie, to focus on the warmth of Cumulus and the steady stroke of her hand. He doesn’t look at Rain. He’s on another couch, tucked up against Cirrus with a book in his hands.

It’s eons before it comes. Rain’s voice curling around his thoughts, telling him It’s time.

Swiss lets out a long breath of relief, the waiting turning into buzzing anticipation, but he doesn’t move quite yet, instead taking a moment to press his face more tightly against Cumulus’s chest. Her hand drifts down to rub at his back for a moment, before giving him a soft pat.

You’re being called over, baby, she murmurs. Something hot curls in Swiss’s stomach; he’d thought Rain had been communicating privately with him, but now he’s not sure if he’d broadcasted that to the whole room, or just to Cumulus. He slowly picks himself up, allowing her hand on his cheek to pull him down into a soft, short kiss, and then he’s on his feet, swaying for a moment. 

It’s time. Time for Swiss to leave the room, to come back with the muzzle Rain had set out earlier today, to kneel before him and hold it up like some kind of offering. Rain takes his time marking his place in his book and setting it aside, sitting up a little to lean forward. Swiss’s body is alight with a buzzing heat, his muscles trembling slightly as Rain finally takes the muzzle from his hands and presses it gently to his face. His touch is light as he snugs the straps down tight, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Swiss’s ear when he’s done. 

Swiss sits back on his heels and looks up at Rain, who gives him a quiet little smile and a tiny nod. Just that small bit of acknowledgement sets Swiss’s chest aglow, and he wants to stay here and bask in it, but he needs to go before Rain has to tell him to. So he murmurs a thank you and picks himself up off the floor, feeling pleasantly floaty as he drifts across the room. He can feel Rain’s eyes on him as he wanders over towards Aether and tucks himself against his side, but he doesn’t let himself relax completely. He stays sitting up, swaying slightly and struggling to keep his attention on the screen. Aether settles a hand on his thigh, the other busy keeping Dew at bay from his other side. Swiss is vaguely aware of the spiced, sharp scent of him, pent up and wanting. If Dew decides to launch himself across Aether at Swiss, he wouldn't bother defending himself. He’s drifting, sinking into that brainless, contented state.

He’s supposed to be watching the movie. Swiss’s gaze has drifted, and he realizes he’s staring at the carpet. It takes effort to raise it to the screen, to get his eyes to stay there before they go unfocused and hazy again. Sometime later, the sound of a soft growl snags his attention; his gaze goes slowly to the source and finds Dew staring hard at him. How he manages to look so rigid while he’s leaned back against the couch and tucked against Aether’s side is anyone’s guess. Swiss doesn’t care about Dew, though. He has to be good and watch the movie. 

He drags his attention back to it, still swaying as he tries to sit up on his own, to look like he’s focused. Eventually, Aether’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulls him close and he gives in, melting against him. As long as he keeps his eyes open and on the screen, he’ll be okay. Rain will praise him when he takes him back to his room and everything will be right in the world.

[malasquid]

So. I've Cracked The Code On The Appearance Changes in Side Order.

Wall of photos and such incoming.

After a lot of testing, I've discovered there are 7 different little lights and doodads that are added to Agent 8 via upgrading certain chips, each with a basic 1st tier and and upgraded 2nd tier. The 1st tier of upgrades appear after picking up two of the same chips in that changes pool (ex: 2 Homing Shots chips), with the 2nd tier appearing after picking up five of them (ex: 5 Homing Shot chips). There is no further visual indicators added for maxing chips that go beyond 5, such as Splash Damage or Rush Attack.

Full disclaimer: This is the result of researching a LOT of my own runs, so I can say this is true with about 95% certainty. If I labeled an ability chip in the wrong visual pool, please let me know!

Let's start with the basics - our control group. No Teal upgrades provide any visible changes to Agent 8 (or Pearl-bot for that matter), so I ran an all-teal palette to demonstrate.

First is likely one of the more requested visual changes - the Headset. The 1st tier sports a basic metallic earpiece, with the 2nd adding an antenna and eyepiece that match your primary ink color.

Maxing Splash Damage, Sound Wave Damage, Splash Radius, Special Charge Up, Turf Lucky Chain, Rush Knockback, and Homing Shots all provide the headset!

Next up is Ink Bubbles. The 1st tier shows transparent, slower bubbles flowing in 8's ink tank, with the bubbles being faster and more opaque in the 2nd tier.

Nabbing Poison Ink, Splat Ink Recovery, Ink Saver Sub, Ink Recovery Rate, Sticky Ink, and Explosion Knockback all provide Ink Bubbles.

Following that is the Fins. The 1st tier shows the base shackles being added to 8's boots, with the fins themselves being added for the 2nd tier.

Picking up Run Speed, Swim Speed, Rush Attack, Mobile Ink Recovery, Mobile Special Charge, and Mobile Drone Gauge all provide the Fins.

Now, moving on to the weapon upgrades!

First we have the Muzzle Lights, which appear at the muzzle of most weapons, and the sides of the brush and roller nearest the base. The 1st tier shows a circle and squares circling around the muzzle, with the 2nd tier being more exaggerated, with alternating squares and rectangles forming a hexagon pattern in the center.

These are exclusive to the Ink Damage, Main Damage (Close), and Main Damage (Distant) chips.

Next up is likely the most common visual one can see on their run - the Arrows. The 1st tier shows a circle with three arrows pointing down the weapon, with the 2nd tier adding some blowback markers behind the circle.

These are on a whopping TEN upgrades, being Splatling Barrage, Main Firing Speed, Horizontal Slash Speed, Main Range, Main Piercing, Main Ink Coverage, Rush Ink Coverage, Quick Charge, Shot Spread Reduction, and Ink Saver Main.

Last of the weapon upgrades are the Dots. The 1st tier is 3 large dots and a circle spinning at the bottom of your weapon or around your wrist, with the 2nd tier adding another circle around the dots.

These can be found on the Hindrance Damage, Ink Attack Size, Charge Storage, Moving Ink Speed, Extra Dodge Roll, Brella Cooldown, and Knockback upgrades.

And finally, my favorite little knick-knack, the Shrimp Hook. This little guy appears on your ink tank after picking up 2 matching Luck upgrades (ex: Lucky Bomb Drop, Canned Special Drop, etc), and begins to glow after picking up 5. However, the glowing effect is not visible in the post-game screen. 😔 (I would totally buy one of these if someone made one, btw)

By the way, 7 visual upgrades * 5 chips needed to max each visual is 35 chips, which is just shy of the 36 total chips you can have on one palette, which means, in theory, you could. Have every maxed visual indicator on in one run.

Just a thought. : )

[ddejavvu]

Ohh I just thought of another one..

Logan with grumpy reader and he just leans her over the nearest surface and pounds the attitude out of her 🙃

Attitude - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni, mean!logan, brat taming, don't like don't read.

"Go on." Logan urges, his voice domineering and loud, his palm squishing your face against the cool, hard surface of the kitchen countertop, "You had so much to say earlier, where is it now?"

You don't answer- you can't, not when Logan's hand is squeezing your mouth shut with the way it smashes you against the counter. There's also the matter of his cock pounding relentlessly into your pussy from the back, your ass shaking with every thrust.

"Hm?" He leans in when you don't answer, his breath hot against your ear as he spits, "Where's all that shit about me bothering you- about me being in your way? 'You so prissy no one can be in the room with you? Hm? Am I in your way now, princess?"

You let out a strangled cry, as good of one as you can muster with your makeshift muzzle, as Logan humps into you like a crazed animal. He's irritated at your audacity, and this is what you'd been asking for earlier with the way you'd snapped at him. He'd grabbed you by the arm and forced you over the counter, and now you're pressing back desperately into his thrusts, trying not to give him the satisfaction of moaning while he keeps you pinned.

"I'm in your fuckin' guts now," He snickers, leaning in close to bite at the shell of your ear, sending a lightning rod of pain through the thin skin, "Y'know, you need a good fuck when you get like that, priss. It calms you down- it shuts you up. See?" He jostles his hand against your face, pressing your head even further into the counter as he mercilessly fucks your cunt, "No more attitude."

[rainylana]

“Touch me.”

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie urges you to communicate your sexual feelings for him.

warnings/tags: 18+ smut, spanking, fingering, hair pulling, decrophylia, reader is bad at communicating feelings, somewhat shy reader, reader is afraid of annoying eddie about sex, daddy kink, use of sir, sixth month relationship, reader wants to be hurt by eddie, thumb sucking, basically a fic about my first few times having sex lmao, pain play, all consensual, some angst if you squint, language. let me know if i missed anything!

Eddie knew when there was something on your mind. He could feel your eyes staring into the side of his face, the way you shifted almost anxiously. The relationship was still somewhat new. You’d only been dating for six months, but still, he wanted you to be comfortable enough to ask for what you wanted. Which he knew what it was. Your hand would slip onto his thigh, rub it casually before disappearing back to your lap. Your head would muzzle against his shoulder, kissing his clothed skin before retreating back to your spot on the couch.

Eddie knew you had your battles with things. Sex did not come easy to you at times, nor did communicating about it. But you needed to use your words with him, otherwise neither of you would get anywhere.

It had been almost two hours into the film you were watching. It was late and he was growing tired, moderately buzzed from drinking. The living room was dark and glowing from the staticy light of the television.

“Eddie?” You finally asked, meekly.

“Hmm?” He hummed, arms crossed as his eyes barely blinked from sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You know you can.”

It was quiet again for several seconds. He looked over to find you biting your nails. “What is it?” He sat up slightly.

You laughed almost awkwardly, shaking your head with a deep blush. “I’m…are you tired?”

He smirked just barely. “Yes.” But he was never too tired for sex. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

“No.” You shuffled your feet on the floor. “Do you…do you want to have sex?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, looking over at you with curious brown eyes. “I always want to have sex.”

You laughed too, a heavy one that was marinated in relieve. He didn’t reject you. You were always so afraid of that. You were so afraid of bothering him, getting on his nerves. Eddie had taken your virginity, and you weren’t that skilled when it came to sex. You didn’t know what to do at most times, but luckily Eddie knew what he was doing. Still, it made you feel foolish. You just wanted him to be happy, but you were just so damn touch starved all the time.

You always wanted him, but terrified he didn’t want you back. That it would be a sexual burden for sleeping with you.

Eddie cupped your cheek, bringing you into his side so he could hug you. “Tell me what’s on your mind, baby.”

He was so good to you, there was no reason to be fearful of him. You sighed heavily into him, nuzzling your body against his. “I’m just nervous. I don’t want to annoy you.”

“You think sex annoys me?”

“I just don’t want to seem needy or overbearing.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not, babe?” He looked down at you, lifting your chin with his index finger. “You don’t annoy me. You don’t overwhelm me. You worry me sometimes, because you’re always in your head thinking. I need you to communicate with me. That’s all I ask.”

Your eyes had teared up and you nodded, too emotional to speak.

He caught a tear with his finger. “I can’t always assume what you want. I need you to tell me what it is, baby. Tell me what you want.”

His mouth was dangerously close to yours, hovering, testing the waters, waiting for you to tell him exactly what you wanted him to do to you.

“I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is barely over a whisper. “Hard. Don’t be nice to me.”

He smirks just slightly. Your requests were just about as freaky as the things he imagined in his head. “Don’t be nice, huh?” He cocked a brow, dragging his thumb along your jawline. “What do you say?”

“Please.” You closed your eyes in a beg, already wet and throbbing for him. “Please, daddy.”

He pushes his thumb between your lips, passing your teeth and hitting the back of your throat. You suck it immediately, nibbling on his skin just barely. His jaw fall slack at the sting, chin raised in a dominant glare as he watches you. “Do you want me to hurt you?” He asks for you, knowing damn well that it’s what you want.

You’re blushing around his finger, popping him out of your mouth as you nod. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” You ask nervously. You were always afraid to communicate your sexual desires with him, too scared that it might frighten him away.

He can’t roll his eyes or laugh, he knows how delicate the topic is for you. “No, y/n.” He cups your cheek. “It doesn’t as long as it’s what you want. You’re still new to this. You need to go at your own pace. Just be yourself and I’ll guide you.”

You place your mouth on his, rising up so you can climb on his lap. Your hot against him, warm and throbbing. He can feel it. “Then hurt me.” You whimper, emotions building up in your chest, emotions you can never quite understand.

He kisses your neck, hot and sweaty kisses trailing down your skin, his teeth nibbling at your sensitive pale skin. His hands move down to your ass, quickly yanking down your shorts to grab you with thick hands. “You know your safe word. Use it when you need to. Don’t worry about me.”

Your heart begins to bang in your chest, hitting you with nerves and adrenaline, but you nod. You nod because it’s what you want and he knows how to give it to you. There’s no other person that can give you relief like the does.

“Stay still.” Your over his lap now, grabbing at the couch in front of you as he adjusts you to where he needs you, plump ass in the air and ready for him to do with what he wants.

“Yes, sir.” Your face is beet red, cheek pressed against your arm. You close your eyes, ready for what’s to come.

Your crying soon after he starts, whimpering and moaning as he spanks you, alternating cheek to cheek in a steady rhythm that has your legs twitching out from the uncomfortable burn. You move down to grab at his ankle, your cunt throbbing around nothing so painfully.

Eddie’s cock is hard, straining against his jeans as he cracks down his hand, leaving red marks on your skin that’ll surely leave a bruise. His panting, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck as he continues to spank you.

You lift your hips to meet his hand, begging for more and more of this punishment, if that’s what it was. Your choking on your tears, sputtering out a sob. “Ow!” You whimper.

He looks at you, but doesn’t stop. He knows you’ll stop him when you’ve had enough. You always do. Your ass is on fire and so is your pussy, leaking down your leg as you sputter out cries. “Touch me.” You beg, broken by your cries.

He stops as soon as you say the word, knowing you’ve had enough, and dips his fingers into your sopping wet cunt. “Did that feel good baby? You like it when daddy spanks you?”

You moan out loud, hot and pornographic at the feeling of his fingers. You can’t say anything only muttering a jarbled mhm. He doesn’t correct you for it, smirking as he fingers you quickly.

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” He lays his other hand on your head to stroke your hair, the other continuing to finger you. “Or do you want me to touch you like this?”

You surprise both him and yourself, climbing off his lap to attack his lips. He’s pushed to the back of the couch, limbs tangling together in a heap as you make love to his lips. “Fuck me, mean, Eddie.”

He groans into your mouth, hurriedly letting go of you to unbuckle his belt and free his long cock. He’s bending you over the couch, lifting your legs to hang off of the back so he can reach your hole. He teases you a lot about your height difference.

He moans when he pushes into your pussy and you sob out in relief, laying your hands on the couch to keep you from falling off. Your tits are bouncing underneath you, the sound of skin slapping together as he starts to fuck you.

He’s not nice about it, just as you asked. He’s hard and rough, fucking you mean and abusing your g-spot with heavy, deep thrusts that have you spewing out desperate cries.

“Oh, god!” You struggle to keep upright, your hands slipping from their position. “Fuck me, fuck, fuck me!”

He slaps a hand down on your red ass that makes you screech, recoiling back to his hips for more. He grabs a fist full of your hair, yanking you back up to him so your back is flush with his chest. “Is this mean enough? Should I let you cum? That’s mean, isn’t it?”

He fucks up into you sharply. “Huh? Tell me, angel.”

You’re begging to come, promising you’ll be good and you’ll obey him. He’s got you bent back over, grabbing your hips to thrust into you deeply, so harshly that you can barely form a coherent sentence. He bottoms out while he cums, shooting his load into you as you clamp down on his cock.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

550 words / 25 / more ghost + gaz with free use medic reader

...

"Come here, medic."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Ain't a request." Ghost takes you firmly by the back of the neck before you can flee. He squeezes tight enough to make it clear he's not asking.

You feel his and Gaz’s eyes on you--on the bleeding laceration sliced through the outer cartilage of your ear and on the bruise forming on your cheekbone. You got tangled up briefly with an enemy tango and almost became a hostage. Or a statistic. But you're fine now.

"You're making a big deal over nothing,” you tell them.

Ghost pulls you forward and angles your face this way and that, trying to get a better look at you.

Gaz crosses his arms and stares you down. "Fine is when you burn yourself on a shell casing. You're not fine." He's barely holding back the edge in his voice. He can't pull rank on you--none of them can, technically--and he's supposed to be polite and respectful. But seeing that happen to you, and the adrenaline running through him, is making him thoughtless.

"He only grabbed me. Didn't hurt me."

Ghost hisses at you, his voice just as rough as the squeeze he has on the back of your neck. "What happened isn't important. What's important is that he thought he could touch you." His grip tightens. "You're in our squad. You're under our watch. No one messes with you."

Your gut twists. That's not fair--acting protective. It's part of their job to keep you safe, but they don't have to talk like this. You glance at Gaz for help, but the look on his face tells you he doesn’t disagree with Ghost. You swallow the protests on the tip of your tongue and close your eyes, silently letting them examine you.

Ghost finds another few nicks and fresh bruises. You’re a medic—you’re not as armored as they are because it’s a goddamn war crime to kill medical personnel. "Jesus,” he mutters. “Bastard snuck up on us.”

"Thank you," you say quietly.

"For what?" Ghost snaps back. As usual, he's not expecting gratitude from you. You're supposed to take the insults, the berating, the harshness. And the protection, because you belong to them. At least, that's how they see it.

Gaz speaks up. "No one treats you like that again, alright?"

"It's not like I asked him if he needed a hostage."

"Doesn't matter," Gaz retorts. "If someone puts a finger on you like that again--"

Soap ducks back into the room, his rifle’s muzzle on his shoulder.

"Take care of it?" Ghost asks.

"Aye," Soap says. "Bastard won't be layin' his hands on anyone anymore. Not enough fingers left, for starters." He turns to you with a look of sympathy, but you recognize the wild edge of adrenaline still present. "You alright, hen?"

"I'm fine." You use the opportunity to worm yourself out of Ghost's grasp. "We going?"

"Affirmative," Gaz says. “We should move.”

Ghost turns away, forcing his attention back on the mission even though he carries himself with cold anger. Soap looks you up and down once more, his eyes lingering on your cheekbone a little longer this time. He seems about to say something, but thinks better of it. His blue eyes soften just a bit before he turns to follow Gaz and Ghost.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[theemporium]

don't usually request but you hit 10k on my birthday and i had something on my mind

maybe some slow build up of smut-berry with 47 for oscar where they couldn't celebrate her birthday because of the australian grand prix falling on the same weekend and her family wanted to be with her, so when they see each other again he decides to do everything he can to make it up to her...

idk i love ur writing 🧡

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

47. “You heard me. I want you to sit on my face.”

.

Oscar loved being a Formula One driver. 

It was his ultimate dream as a kid and now it was a reality. He knew he was luckier than most, getting to a job he loved so dearly. And he knew not many people even made it to Formula One and stayed. But he was lucky and he never took it for granted, even if there were downsides to the job. 

The media wasn’t his favourite thing in the world. And the conferences and interviews got a bit tedious every other weekend. The constant jet lag also wasn’t ideal. And he didn’t really fully grasp the world fame sometimes, it was hard to forget he was just another guy showing up at his job every weekend. 

But the worst was the important dates and events he missed because of his job. The events and duties he could not get out of no matter what because they were a part of his contract. He missed out on important things for the most important people in his life. 

Like your birthday. 

“M’sorry,” Oscar apologised for the umpteenth time as he laid in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling above him as he held his phone to his ear. “I really tried to find a way out of it but Zak said no and—”

“Oscar, baby, it’s okay,” you smiled softly as you leaned back in your seat, a cup of coffee in your hand. “I know you would be here if you could. I promise I don’t mind, it just means we can have our own celebration later.” 

His lips twitched at the thought. “I am gonna give you the best late-birthday party ever.” 

You hummed. “Oh yeah? Tell me about it, Piastri.” 

“Gonna book us to go away somewhere,” Oscar said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Somewhere we can hide. Just me and you and the sun.” 

“That sounds nice,” you sighed, almost wistfully. “It’s raining here.”

“No rain, promise,” he assured you. “Every night we are there, we will dress up and go out. I’ll even wear that shirt you really like—the black one.” 

“Oh, you’re spoiling me,” you teased but your smile only widened as you continued to listen.” 

“Maybe try some new things as well,” Oscar continued as he closed his eyes, listening to hum as a way to tell him to elaborate. “Maybe we can go paragliding. Or go on a safari. Maybe you can sit on my face.” 

You spluttered, your eyes widening in response as you quickly placed your coffee cup down and wiped your hand across your face. “Oscar!” 

He tried not to smile. “What?” 

“You—” You cleared your throat a little, your cheeks burning as you tried to find your words. “Huh?” 

“You heard me. I want you to sit on my face,” Oscar said, deadpan and so-Oscar that it made your head spin a little knowing he was dead serious. “Think you’ll look really pretty from that angle, perfect for the birthday girl.”

You shook your head. “You need to be muzzled.” 

“We can try that too, if that’s something you’re into,” Oscar retorted, laughing a little when you let out another incoherent squeak. “Don’t die, baby, we have a holiday to look forward to together.”

“Fuck off, Piastri.” 

“We are gonna do a lot of fucking—”

“Oscar!”

.