#the SWEAT though. always been self conscious

[autoneurotic]

thinking about the things i draw and how they helped me love myself…..every character i draw is hairy and sweaty and i myself. am hairy and sweaty. if it’s hot and sexy on my fictional guys it’s gotta be hot and sexy on me right.

right.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Father’s Friend! Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Implied Smut, Age Gap Relationship, Forbidden Relationship, Older Man/Younger Reader, Protective! Simon, Slightly Creepy! Simon, Petnames, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Simon was more gentle with you than he’d ever been with anyone, especially now as he lay on top of you, pushing into you slowly, carefully.

He knew what you were doing was wrong – the looks, the gifts, the sneaking around behind everyone’s backs – but he’d already betrayed too many of his instincts – allowed you to break down too many of his walls – to care now.

Simon had fucked before, but he’d never made love to anyone. You were his first, in that sense.

“That’s it,” he rasped, releasing a guttural moan as he finally managed to slip into you fully. He felt himself twitch. Felt you heaving laboured breaths as he lay heavy inside you. He rested his forehead against yours, skin slick with sweat, pressing a languid kiss to your lips, trailing down, along your jaw, down to the sensitive area just beneath your earlobe. Your pulse point.

“Doin’ so well for me, Love,” he told you. And from the veins bulging beneath his skin, his scars and tattoos underlined by a constellation of capillaries and a cacophony of life, you knew he was telling the truth.

Simon can remember every single point that led to this. At first, it was your meeting. Fated, it seemed. Especially now as the two of you lay with your legs tangled together, fingers interlocked and bodies all but conjoined. 

For a man who’s always struggled with eye contact, this is the only time he’s ever enjoyed it. Peering into you, your eyes.

Simon knows you love him. Though, he doesn’t quite believe it given how he perceives you to be out of his league.

And, despite your assurances, Simon tends to get a bit…jealous.

Self-conscious.

He’s aware of the fact that the age gap between the two of you is wide enough to let some doubts slip in; doubts that, in your young age, you’ve made a horrible decision pursuing a man as grizzled as Simon.

But he never takes his insecurities out on you. Not outside the bedroom, at least.

If you’re going out with someone Simon views as competition, he has a tendency to leave you ‘something to remember him by’ — namely his cum rolling down your thighs and dripping into your underwear.

He loves watching you try to greet people normally, knowing that you were getting raw dogged just ten minutes before, the aftermath seeping into the fabric of your underwear, making you shift in your seat, trying to find a position where you’re not pressed against the sopping-wet fabric.

Simon wonders if, during those times, you think of him. The same way he thinks of you as his mind wanders and his hand slips across the waistband of his jeans, palming himself at the memory of your whimpering, the tears in your eyes as you tell him how good he’s making you feel.

His possessiveness gets the better of him sometimes, hence he sends you into the world with some part of you filled with his semen.

During these moments, his jealousy manifests in his roughness with you — in his need to make you feel things no other man can.

Other times, he’s gentle. Endearingly so. And those are the times you know he needs reassurance the most.

Card your hands through his hair, call him yours, tell him how much you love him. He’ll be the one moaning and whimpering into the crook of your neck, I guarantee it.

Given the nature of your relationship, Simon is not one to take risks.

Unlike Price, he won’t slip his hand up your thigh and tease you in public.

He won’t sit next to you of his own free will when you’re out with your father, and he won’t be nearly as talkative with you as when you’re alone together (which, given he’s Simon Riley, isn’t much to begin with, but there���s a difference only you can tell).

But you’ll feel his eyes on you, see the look of longing, of hesitant love — first love — lie within them.

To others, it’s a death stare. To you, it’s the closest thing to an ‘I love you’ you can get under such surveillance.

If anyone — especially your father — started getting suspicious of the nature of your relationship – your affair – Simon would act as if it’s business as usual. Pretend as if nothing’s wrong.

If the two of you suddenly change your behaviour, it’ll look even more suspicious – that’s what he tells you. But, of course, he doesn’t invite you over to his house as much; doesn’t placate your desire to go shopping by driving you into town. The most he’ll do is offer you his jacket when you’re cold – a bare bones gesture of goodwill and nothing more.

He longs for you in ways you can’t even fathom during your away-time, in ways he could never verbalise. But trust that, when you’re able to again, Simon won’t be letting you leave his house. Or the bedroom, for that matter.

You can expect him to be a lot more open and receptive to physical affection after that – in private, of course. 

Kisses to the crown of your head, longingly staring down at you as you lay against his side, holding your hand at every convenience, etc.

Simon is the BEST gift giver you could ask for. He spoils you silly, buying you anything your heart desires, be it clothes, jewellery, food; the world is yours when you’re with him.

He isn’t unwise with his purchases, however.

He’s observant, has a keen eye. He’ll see things you like before you do, and he’ll buy you things he knows you’ll love before you even have the chance to tell him.

Your bedroom is going to be near-bursting with all the things Simon’s bought you. But telling your father that you bought them all off the internet with your new job money (a job you had to fabricate to account for the many hours a day you’d disappear off with Simon and the sudden influx of cash coming your way).

It took a LONG time for Simon to start liking you. To start loving you.

The close proximity of his house to yours made your paths cross more times than he could count, leading to a daily conversation of some nature. ‘How are you?’ and ‘What are you up to?’ eventually turned into ‘Hey, can I ask you a question?’ — for you often asked Simon’s advice about issues you didn’t want to discuss with your father; a bold show of trust, Simon thought — and ‘Are you doing anything later today?’

The first time you’d interacted with your father’s mysterious friend beyond a superficial capacity had been when you’d helped him paint his fence (which, you noticed, he’d started sprucing up after you’d suggested it to him a few weeks prior). Sure, you thought he was attractive, a nice, albeit very quiet, personality, and decided to lend him a hand on your way back from a walk one morning.

You stayed there the whole day, talking to Simon throughout.

It felt like this was the first time you’d actually met him. The first time you’d managed to get more than three words out of him.

Sure, most of his answers were stunted, but you could tell they were truthful. And yet, you also knew he was hiding something. Many things, in fact. Things you didn’t push for, instead opting to tell Simon about yourself, relinquishing details about your life, your hobbies – anything to make you appear more like a person and less like a nuisance.

He painted, too. Though, he’d often find himself distracted by the sight of you in your shorts, bent in a way that, to a man as pent-up and lonely as Simon, could be seen as provocative.

He felt icky. Like a creepy old man spying on his younger neighbour.

He did try to distance himself after that, uncomfortable with the thoughts that ran through his head for the entirety of your time together.

Unfortunately for him, however, you were persistent. Hadn’t seen the hungry glow in his eyes whenever you wore something slightly revealing.

He felt like lecturing you, telling you to cover up — to not flaunt yourself so readily. Didn’t you know lecherous men (him) lurked around every corner ?

Another part of him felt like enabling you. Wanted to see as much of you as you’d let him. You were the first pretty thing to wander into Simon’s sights in a long time – one that hadn’t fled or disappeared at his behest.

One day, you’d dressed yourself in a flimsy little shirt and shorts and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. You and Simon had rushed back to his house, the shelter closest to you. There, seeing you soaking, your shirt sticking to your body, Simon did the gentlemanly thing and offered you a hoodie of his to keep warm in.

He’d never given someone his hoodie before. Not in this capacity, at least (Johnny didn’t count because Sergeant MacTavish had actually stolen Simon’s hoodie and worn it without asking.)

The sight of you drowning in the fabric made the breath in Simon’s throat catch.

In that second, you weren’t the byproduct of his best friend. You were small, defenceless, and indebted to him.

Simon hadn’t been able to see you the same way since.

No longer did he take pleasure in watching you bend over for one thing or another. Now, he looked for opportunities to care for you.

Subtle shows of his growing fondness for you. His need to take care of you.

And…well, you know the story from here ;-).

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[sadhours]

You’re so talented and amazing that smut has me SWEATING!!!!

Plsssss part two with Steve taking readers virginity I beg

stop I love you!

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, inexperienced reader, oral (f and m receiving), virginity loss, p in v, unprotected (sorry I can’t write any other way)

part one

requests are open!!

shockingly, when you went to Steve’s house that night, you two didn’t sleep together. Which was his idea. He said he felt like maybe you two oughta get to know each other better before you went that far. You were visibly upset by that but Steve insisted it would be better that way.

So that’s how you find yourself a couple weeks later, holding hands with him as you walk through the mall. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear you were dating but Steve didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend. But you two have been spending almost every day together, after work and on your days off. Like today, the pair of you have the day off but you wind up at the mall anyway. He called you this morning and asked if you wanted to hang out. To which you told Steve you needed to get a new pair of shoes for work, since yours were falling apart and he offered to tag along. He even picked you up.

You make eye contact with your coworkers as the pair of you stroll passed the food court. They make crude hand gestures and so you squeeze Steve’s hand and walk faster. He’s none the wiser, eyes scanning around the crowded mall. You catch yourself staring at him. You’ve had this like, really intense feeling in your chest ever since you and Steve started hanging out. It’s tight, almost like your lungs don’t have enough air. And he’s literally all you think about, all you can talk about. Steve, Steve, Steve. On a loop, to a nauseating extent. Not nauseating to you, but most likely to your family and friends. But really, he’s so dreamy.

“Where do you usually get your work shoes?” Steve asks, grazing his thumb against the back of your hand.

“Sears,” you answer honestly. Steve’s parents are in a vastly different tax bracket than your own so you get a little self conscious about these kinds of things. You were incredibly impressed with his house. And it took a good convincing from him to let him come over to yours. Especially because while Steve’s parents weren’t home when you went over there, yours were at yours always. And they were embarrassing, even though you were an adult now, they hovered. And you couldn’t close your door when he came over. Your mom about talked his ears off, too but Steve was charming and when he left, your mom told you he was sweet and she liked him.

“Cool,” he nods, “What do you wanna do after this?”

You shrug, walking into the entrance of Sears, “I don’t know.”

“We can use my pool,” he offers, “It’s really nice out, today.”

You blush, the thought of being in your swimsuit in front of Steve is kind of a lot. Even though you two have messed around, you’ve been almost completely dressed each time. Really, you’ve just been doing the same thing— dry humping but Steve always pulls your tits out. He actually stares at them sometimes, gets this look on his face that makes you feel like a million bucks. His eyes get all glassy and he looks dazed as he watches them bounce with your movements. It makes you feel sexy and you’ve never felt that way in your life. But being so exposed in broad daylight is rather intimidating.

“Yeah, maybe,” you reply shyly, cheeks ruddy at the thought of him seeing your body. “We’d have to go get my swimsuit, though.”

“We’re at a mall,” Steve chuckles, “You can just buy one.”

Well, you didn’t anticipate spending too much today. But again, you’re embarrassed so you won’t say that. You just shrug, “If I can find one.”

“I can help,” he grins, eyebrows raising as he nudges his side against you. Which just makes your face ten times more flushed. “Oh, look!” Steve points to the section of the store lined with swimsuits, “Perfect.”

The pair of you head that way. Steve motions at a red bikini, which is not something you’d usually wear. You’re a one piece kind of girl. But now that you’re thinking about it, the swim suit you have at home isn’t exactly sexy. And really, you want Steve to look at you with that dreamy look in his eyes again.

“That one’s nice,” he says, “And my trunks are red, so we’ll match.”

You pick up the top, looking it over when you realize you have no idea how to tell your size. You’re gonna have to try it on. “I need to try it on,” you tell Steve and grab a few sizes before making your way to the dressing rooms, Steve right behind you.

Much to Steve’s dismay, you don’t show him the bikini but you get the right size and get your pair of shoes. Steve buys you a smoothie on the way out. But what he does on the ride to his house is really what gets you. As he’s driving, he reaches his hand over and rests it on your thigh. His palm against your bare thigh makes them all tingly and you feel like the car is suddenly really hot, so you roll down the window. Looking out because you’re too shy to look at him. Steve squeezes your thigh and you clear your throat, shifting in your seat.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to you briefly.

“I’m fine,” you choke out as you look at him.

“Is this okay?” he squeezes your thigh again.

You swallow the lump rising in your throat and nod your head yes, “Yeah, it feels nice.”

“Good,” he smiles, his eyes crinkling with it and he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

You’re really nervous, fixing your hair as you look in the mirror. You wished Steve gave you a towel to cover up with before you changed because now you have to make an entrance… in this bikini that feels like it barely covers anything. You swear one wrong move and your boobs gonna fly right out. But you think, Steve won’t mind that.

His face confirms it when you finally walk out onto the back patio, seeing Steve laying towels out on the pool loungers. He drops the towel in his hand and his lips part, holding his hand above his brows to shield the sun as he gawks at you. And thankfully, his reaction gives you a breath of confidence and you strut over to him, “Not too bad, huh?”

“Fucking unbelievable,” he breathes through a satisfied smile, “You look amazing.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your waist, dipping his face down to kiss your cheek.

“Steve!” you flush, bringing your hands up to your face. He grabs your wrists and kisses all over face, repeating that you look great over and over. You erupt in giggles, grabbing his hands and pull back.

“What? Too much?” he asks, looking down at you with those gorgeous puppy dog eyes.

“I think… you need to cool off,” you say slyly before shoving him into the pool, jumping in right after him. Steve’s laughing when he comes up from the water, swimming over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Good one,” he muses, looking fond, “Very clever.”

“I’m glad you thought so,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kisses you then, and immediately you melt. Kissing Steve is like otherworldly. It’s like everything around you disappears and it’s just you two. His lips are soft yet firm, kissing you determinedly. His hands are big, cascading up and down your sides.

But then he pulls away and smiles, “Wanna race? I bet I can swim from this end to the other faster than you.”

“You’re on,” you bet and start swimming to the edge of the pool.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

After you two get out of the pool, your body is all tingly and needy. You dry off and can’t keep your eyes off of Steve’s body as he dries off. Eyes scanning over the constellations of moles scattering over his chest, arms and back. He catches you, biting is lip as he’s drying his hair.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I think… I want…” you take a deep breath as your face flushes.

“What is it? You okay?” he asks, tilting his head as he gets a look of concern in his eyes.

“I think I’m ready,” you tell him, “ya know.. to do it.”

“Really?” he drops his towel, looking surprised.

“Uh huh,” you nod as you smile, so sure of yourself.

He grabs your hand and practically pulls you up to his bedroom. You fall back on his mattress and he’s crawling up between your legs, palm meeting your cheek gently as he crashes his lips into yours. It’s different than kisses before. Steve seems more urgent, more needy. His hands feel you everywhere, squeezing and pulling wherever he can. It’s intoxicating and makes your stomach twist, full of desire. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer and you can feel his cock strained behind his swim trunks rubbing against your core. It’s familiar, but a bit more charged. There’s more coming and it has your back arching. Steve breaks the kiss, “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you nod, writhing against him, “I’m sure.”

“Cool,” he breathes, moving his fingers to untie your bikini top and he pulls it off. His lips find your jaw, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever they can. Down your neck and over the curve of your breasts, then you feel his tongue against your perked nipple and you whine, knitting your fingers in his damp hair.

He flicks his tongue against it, looking up at your face as he broadly licks it before sucking it between his lips. You gasp, tilting your head back as you try to grind against him harder. You’re desperate for more friction there. Steve moans against your supple skin, and then his lips work lower. Down your stomach. And you no longer have his erection to grind against but his fingers dip into the waistband of your bottoms. Your breath catches in your throat, looking down at him in anticipation. He looks so pretty, the sunlight shining through the half closed curtains in his bedroom and casting beautifully on his strong eyebrows and sharp nose.

Steve peels your bottoms down your thighs and you move your legs to help him, hands moving to cover your chest. Otherwise, completely exposed to him. Steve kisses your hipbone, spreading your legs with his hands and then moves his mouth between them. Starts with kissing your thighs, but when he actually gets his mouth on your pussy, you cry out. It’s pleasure in a way you’ve never felt and it’s white hot, feel it everywhere. He licks through your folds, humming softly as he does so. It’s so warm and wet and lovely. Uses his plump lips when he does it, grazing against your folds. And he puts his mouth completely on you, sucks on your folds and his thumb lowers down to your hole, rubbing teasing circles around it and you gasp out. Eyes closing involuntarily as you tilt your head back, focused solely on how incredible this feels.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he makes you cum, your cry breaks off as it leaves your lips and your thighs squeeze his head while you ride it out. Steve watches you with a look of shock on his face, flattery, really. Impressed with himself at quick he made that happen. Smoothes his palms along the soft skin of your legs as he forces them open, coming up for air. His cheeks are flushed, a pretty pink blooming over them and the tip of his nose.

“Christ,” he exhales, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he beams up at you. “You okay, princess?”

Your chest heaves while you come down, eyes blinking open as you let out a sigh. The pet name makes your chest tighten, you want Steve to say it again, over and over. “So okay,” you gasp out as you sit up and look down at him.

He smiles cheekily, nudging his nose against your shaking thighs as he blinks up at you, “You’re sensitive, huh?”

“Nobody’s ever done that to me,” you admit, tucking your hair behind your ear as you flush.

He chuckles softly, keeps nuzzling against your thigh as he smoothes his palms down your calves. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

You nod enthusiastically at him, “W-wanna make you feel good.”

Steve pushes you on your back, gets himself on top of you and places a chaste kiss against your lips, mumbles against them, “That made me feel really good.”

Your hands find his hair, carding in the locks as you kiss his words and roll your hips up to meet him, “I wanna keep going. Maybe I can try.. returning the favor.”

The boy grunts softly into your mouth, the corners of his lips hitching up, “You ever done that before?”

“No,” you pout, feeling a little self conscious but more than that, eager. “I’m a really fast learner, though.”

“I’m.. I,” Steve laughs, breath hot against your mouth, “Might need a break after, but… hell, we’ve got all night.”

“A break?” you ask curiously and Steve nods against you, foreheads bumping together. He cups your cheek, kisses you tenderly.

“Mhm, can’t go again as quick,” he mumbles into your lips, grounds his hips down and you can feel him through his swim trunks. Hard and firm against your sensitive cunt.

You pull him back slightly, looking up at him tenderly as you say, “I really wanna try.”

He laughs again, breathless and it’s not mean, it makes your heart warm. The sound of him. Pretty and sweet. Makes you that much eager to please; to impress.

Steve rolls onto his back, inches up against his pillows and looks at you, eyes dark despite the fond smile spreading on his face. You sit beside him and your fingers find the elastic of his shorts, inching inside and looking up at him for guidance. He nods, short and soft. You pull down his damp trunks and his cock bounces out, long and thick against his abdomen. He helps rid of the shorts completely, kicking them off his ankles and then he rakes his fingers through your hair. Tilts his head as he looks down at you and says, “Just do what feels natural, princess.”

Your cheeks heat at the name, blooming down your neck and chest. Curious fingers graze down his length, Steve breathes out a pretty sound— almost a whine, kind of a sigh. Then you wrap your fingers around him, biting your lip at the warmth and weight. He inhales sharply, nodding at you as you lean forward and press your lips to the tip. Experimentally, you lick against the head of his cock and then drag your tongue across the edge of it. Steve groans, keeps stroking your cheek and forehead as he watches you with pupils blown wide.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes out, “doing so good already.”

You’ve still got your fingers circled around his shaft, holding his cock up as you lick the tip like an ice cream cone. But you know you’re supposed to suck, that’s what you’ve been told at least. So you wrap your lips around the head and do just that. It punches a pretty sound from Steve’s throat, distinctly a whine. So you do it again and again and Steve keeps making that sound over and over before he says, “Move your hand, princess. Slow, up and down.”

Head feeling all dizzy, you listen and slowly stroke his cock up and down. But it’s kinda awkward— dry. You think it would work smoother if your palm was wet so you pull away and lick your hand before returning it to Steve’s cock, and you were right, the movement is so much easier like this and Steve moans, eyes blinking rapidly as he watches you.

“Such a fast learner, good girl,” he pants out and you’re smiling, cheeks swelling before you take his tip back between your lips.

You like this— a lot. Grinding down against the mattress for some friction, thighs all hot and slick with arousal. It’s the way he reacts, the sounds he makes and the way his face contorts in pleasure. Steve was pretty before but he looks even prettier like this. He bites at his lower lip, makes it even pinker and plumper. You sink a little more of him into your mouth, careful with your teeth as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip and then suck. Your jaw aches slightly but it’s so worth it. Steve’s fingers slide into the roots of your hair, gripping softly as he moans out little encouragements.

“So pretty, so pretty like this.”

And it’s kind of silly because you think he looks so pretty like this. You squeeze his shaft a little tighter as you stroke him, out of pure excitement and Steve groans, guttural and low as he swears, “Fuuuuck.”

You suck harder on his tip and continue moving your fingers up and down his length, curving your palm on each upstroke because Steve’s eyes roll back slightly and you want more of that.

“Just like that— holy—- fuckfuckfuck,” Steve pants and moans, “I’m gonna cum.”

Out of pure curiosity, you don’t pull off. Because also, when you came, Steve didn’t pull away. He makes a choked, broken sound and releases, hot and thick on your tongue. And you’d heard all your coworkers complain about the taste but Steve is sweet, not bitter like you’ve been told. You don’t hate the taste at all, though the texture is another story. But you swallow it down all the same and Steve’s watching and gasping for air as you pull away. He grabs hold of your face, pulls you close and then wraps his arms around your body, kissing you fiercely, bruisingly.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

It happens later. Steve’s parents away on yet another business trip, a white lie told to yours about staying the night at a friends and there you are. On his couch. Steve laid on his back, you nestled between his thighs with your cheek on his chest and his legs tangled with you. He plays with your hair as the TV plays late night informercials. You’re not paying attention, mind wandering as you subtly take in the smell of Steve. Musk and summer, his honey scented shampoo and the sugary candy you two shared on his breath. Fans your face hotly and lovely. Tickles against the ridge of your brows, cascades down to your nostrils and it’s rather intoxicating. Ushers you to lift your face and inch up his body, wanting to taste as you brush your lips against his. His hand snakes down your spine, onto the soft skin at the small of your back, your shirt pulled up just slightly. Steve kisses you back tenderly, sighing so softly you almost miss it.

A thought tugs at the back of your head and you ask against his lips, “What are we?”

Steve hums, eyebrow raising as he smiles, “What do you mean?”

“Like… we spend every day together, we kiss, we… do other stuff,” you swallow hard, chest tightening with fear as you repeat, “So what are we?”

He nudges his nose against yours, “What do you wanna be, princess?”

“Yours,” you admit, a whisper. Almost silent.

“You are mine,” Steve replies, squeezing your hip in his hand. You flush something mad, trying to surprise the giggle of excitement from bubbling out of your throat. It’s fruitless, the sound erupting from you as your cheeks swell. Steve kisses you again, softly and asks against your lips, “You wanna be my girlfriend, princess?”

You nod as you kiss back, “Mhm.”

“Then you’re my girlfriend,” Steve agrees easily, his breath smells so sweet, makes your head all fuzzy.

“And you’re my boyfriend?” you test, hand moving up to cup his jaw.

“You better believe it,” he mumbles, you can hear the smile but even better you can feel it against your lips. You kiss him again, more intent behind it this time— fingernails softly scratching at his jaw. Steve drags his tongue along your bottom lip, asking to deepen the kiss which you eagerly agree as you part your lips. He tastes like candy, tooth achingly sweet when you welcome his skilled tongue against your own. It heats up quick, your hips dancing together as the pair of you pant into each others mouths. Steve’s hands lower to the fat of your ass, kneading and pulling. Your thighs feel all tingly, core aching with desperation for him.

You’re determined, you’ve been wanting Steve in that way for so long it feels like and he’s been taking his time with you. Testing the waters when you would’ve handed it over to him that first night in Scoops Ahoy!

“Stevie,” you pant against his mouth, “need you.”

“You have me, princess,” he retorts, smiling sweetly as he uses his leverage on your ass to grind you down against him. You can feel his length, hard and firm against your core and you whimper, needy.

“Need you— Steve, want you so bad,” you babble into his mouth as you writhe against him.

He taps your bum, “Up. Bedroom.”

You obey, don’t have to be told twice, holding his hand as he leads you to his bedroom. He kisses you once you’re inside, guides you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you fall into it, pulling Steve with you, refusing to pull your lips away from his. Which is a feat when you two start undressing one another. When you do have to pull away to rid of articles, you whine and Steve chuckles, gives you what you want seconds later. Smoothes his hands down your naked body as he licks into your mouth. He pulls back, on his knees between your legs as he licks the tips of his fingers and brings them to your core, exhaling sharply once he’s met with the evidence of just how much you need him.

This is it, you think. As he licks his fingers again and smears the saliva over his aching tip, guiding it towards your entrance and you whine out, just when skin meets skin. Readier than ever, overwhelmingly desperate to feel Steve inside you. Your back arches as he sinks in, just the tip of him stretching you open. It’s pleasure incarnate, radiates through your stomach and eats at all your nerves.

“More,” you plead, grabbing onto his biceps as you roll your hips. Steve sinks in deeper and it’s a little intense, searing and hot and also so, so, so perfect. Pulls a high pitched moan from you. Steve’s rubbing soothing circles against your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

You nod, digging your nails into his skin. Making little crescent indents. He lowers his mouth to yours, grazing your lips together as he sheathes his cock deeper inside. You gasp out, eyes clenching tightly at the burn. Steve kisses you through it, whispers words of encouragement there. Princess this and princess that. Pushes through this barrier and it’s all white hot pleasure. Bright light behind your eyelids as you moan out appreciation, adoration, desperation. His hips still, giving you the opportunity to adjust. Kisses you stupid with sugary sweetness. Tastes just like candy. Your hands are all over him, chest, stomach, shoulders, neck and back. Crying out soft little praising sounds.

He grits his teeth, eyebrows tangled as he pleads, “Please— princess, can I move?”

“Please,” you beg, “Gimme…” the thoughts lost as Steve winds his hips back and pushes them back down into you. A moan interrupting, voice wrecked already and Steve swallows it, kisses it away as he rolls his hips steadily. Keeps this rhythm that has your eyes rolling back and steady, candied uh-uh-uh’s fall from your lips.

Steve’s left hand holds himself up, palm to the mattress while his right grips tightly at your hip. Your legs open, ankles hooking over the backs of his thighs and your hands are still everywhere, taking in whatever you can. The way he’s stretching you out and filling you up at the same time is intoxicating, euphoria dripping all over you. You’re almost mad that you’d waited so long but it’s all too perfect. And maybe Steve’s been right and waiting is what made this moment the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His lips are brutal against yours, pushing and pulling. Desperate and hungry. These pretty grunts and moans mushing against your lips.

“Steve,” you whine out, “god…”

He moves to grab your jaw, tilting your head back into the pillows as he moves his hips quicker, harder. Makes your head spin, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter. All you can really do is lay back and take it, mind gone all numb. Your hips search his out, rocking back into him with every thrust. The tip of his cock reaching something fierce and overwhelming inside you. Brushes against this spot so wonderfully that tears prick your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks.

“So perfect for me,” he mumbles into your mouth, “so pretty, so fuck— fucking gorgeous, princess.”

This wave rushes up on you like nothing before, punches the breath out of your lungs as you grip onto his back, nails scratching down the mole specked skin and Steve groans roughly against your mouth. Your eyes are open but you’re blinded by stars, exploding like fireworks as your eyebrows furrow and you emit a sound so loud, bordering on a cry. It’s like the drop of a roller coaster but a million times more intense, you’re not on this earth for the seconds it happens. Legs wrapping around his waist, crying out during the aftershocks of it. Steve’s panting against your lips, little whines and moans. Pretty sounds that just elongate the utter ecstasy ripping through your body.

“Fuckfuck— shit, princess, I’m gonna—“ Steve pulls out of you abruptly, fingers gripping around his cock as he spills over onto your stomach. Makes a choked and broken sound as he does it, your eyes are on his face. Watching the pleasure contort his features in a way that has you obsessed. He pants, chest heaving as he pushes his hair back. Catches his breath, leans down and kisses you softly before exiting the bed. You whine in protest, reaching your hands out for him.

Steve smiles sweetly at you, grabs a dirty towel from his hamper and moves to wipe his cock. You watch in awe, still coming back down to earth. He moves back towards the bed, using the towel to clean off your stomach. He drops it to the floor and curls up next you, pulling your face to his and kisses you stupid.

“Worth the wait?” he asks, teasingly.

You giggle and say against his lips, “When can we do it again?”

He laughs, pulling your body flush to his as he says, “You’re gonna kill me, princess.”

[joelscruff]

ummm hi this is so random i just needed to tell someone about this cause no one i know likes pedro

so i was watching s1 narcos and javi was wearing this fkn white half sleeved shirt and they knew what they were fucking doing and i’m dying he’s so fkn hot what do i do!!, if i was interning for him and he walked in the room wearing that oh my fkn god i would be dead sorry for this rant

soaked (javier peña x f!reader) 18+

so as usual what was meant to be a little drabble became a full-fledged fic. what is wrong with me????? this outfit is truly insane though and i couldn't stop thinking about it getting wet 👀 i hope you enjoy xo (and thank you anon for the inspo and for telling me what episode this lovely shirt was in!) summary: it's hard being an intern for a man who won't even look at you, but maybe there's something else to it that you don't see. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: smut, blowjobs, deepthroating, protected p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk, size kink (javi has a big dick), biting, probably bad spanish (blame google) word count: 6k (this was supposed to be a drabble!!!!!!! wtf!!!!!!!!) ao3

You're pretty sure you're going to quit your job.

You've been an intern at the DEA for about a month now, in charge of extremely mundane things like pouring coffee and organizing paperwork. No one really talks to you other than Steve Murphy, one of the agents you're assigned to, and even then he's too busy to really give you much attention. It's lonely and boring, and part of you thinks you might have quit already, if it wasn't for...

"Morning, asshole," Javier Peña enters the office with long strides, tossing a stack of papers toward your (very tiny) desk. You can't help but stare at him, swallowing nervously as you assess the plain white shirt he's wearing, loosely tucked into his tight jeans and accentuating his strong, tan arms. How does he always look so good? His hair is messy, brown curls tangled and sticking up in places like he's just rolled out of bed, and he probably has. The faint scent of whisky that follows him tells you all you need to know about how he spent his evening.

You're worried for only half a second that he's talking to you, but you realize his gaze is directed toward Steve, who simply shrugs.

"You didn't have to come," he replies with a laugh, "You coulda said no."

"To your fucking wife? Please." Javier sits down in his chair with force, leaning back to immediately put his long legs up on his desk and reach for a cigarette from his pocket, "She was excited about it, you dick."

Steve just laughs again, turning back to his work, "You did the right thing, man. I don't know what else to say."

You wish you understood the story, knew what they were playfully ribbing each other about, but for the past month you've been on the outside of their relationship. Steve gives you reassuring smiles and some small talk every now and then but it's not enough to feel like you actually belong there, not to mention that Javier has only spoken to you once. Even now, as you rise from your chair to pour some fresh coffee into his mug, he doesn't even look at you.

"You owe me," he says to Steve, lighting up his cig, "Pendejo."

As you pour his coffee you can't help but notice the way the collar of his shirt rides low enough for you to see his collarbones, see the light dusting of hair smattered across his dark skin. There's a few droplets of sweat here and there, and you resist the urge to lean forward and press your tongue to each one.

"I'll have some more too, sweetheart," Steve says behind you, and your thoughts scatter as you pull back from Javier's mug to go re-fill Steve's. You're aware of the way Steve's eyes trail to your breasts, hidden only by a thin layer of blue fabric; it makes you self conscious and also a bit confused. Steve has never looked at you that way before, "That's a nice blouse," he says to you with a smile, eyes going back up to your face, "My wife has one similar to that."

"Thank you," you say quietly, finishing filling up his mug and wanting to go back over to your desk as soon as possible; you don't like the idea of a married man ogling you.

"Isn't this a nice blouse, Javi?" Steve continues, and you freeze.

What is Steve doing? Is he trying to get you insulted? You turn slightly to look at Javier, coffee pot trembling slightly in your hand when you see that he's got an irritated expression painting his face, mouth downturned in a stern frown.

"Thin ice, Steve," Javier replies and takes another drag from his cigarette, his eyes set firmly on Steve's face, not even bothering to even look at the blouse in question.

"What? It's nice," Steve seems to be feigning innocence, yet again another inside joke you're not apart of. Except this time it's at your expense and you're not sure how that makes you feel. Suddenly Steve reaches up and takes a ruffle of your blouse near your arm between his fingers, "Really soft, too."

"Steve," Javier repeats, eyes dark, "Thin. Ice."

You look from Javier to Steve and back to Javier, absolutely bewildered. It's like things are being said but you can't hear them, have no idea what kind of secret language they're speaking. You pull away from Steve a bit, feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna go put this back," you say quietly, referring to the coffee pot.

"Of course, sweetheart, I won't keep you," Steve gives you a wink and you know something is off. From what you've gathered so far from your time here, Steve loves his wife, has a picture of her on his desk right in front of him that you always catch him looking at. You've only been here a month but you swear he's mentioned her every single day, if not to you then to Javier, if not to Javier then to another intern or agent. So why is he suddenly being flirtatious with you?

You leave the room and return the coffee pot, staring at the aged tiles on the wall in front of you and feeling a lump form in your throat. You really do hate it here, you don't know why you've stayed as long as you have.

Yes you do, you idiot.

--

It's raining outside by the time your work day ends and you feel yourself deflate as you walk out the front doors of the DEA; you'd been hoping for the hot weather to continue so you could go for a run and distract yourself from this weird and uncomfortable day, decide whether or not you're going to just quit already. It's like the heavy rainfall is mocking you.

You feel much too depressed to walk home so you go back inside the building and make your way back to the office to call a taxi. Steve passes you in the hallway and slows down, puts his hand up to stop you.

"Hey, I'm sorry for this morning," he says, eyes kind and gentle, "That was inappropriate, I shouldn't have touched your blouse."

You're not sure what to say, giving him a small shrug, "It's, uh, okay. I was just..." you shake your head, "Yeah, never mind, it's okay."

"You're wondering why I did it." he states, frowning, and you almost laugh at his immediate assessment of the situation; deflecting a DEA agent? Not the smartest idea.

"Well, yeah," you shrug, "It was kinda weird. You're usually, um... very respectful so-"

He winces, "I know, I'm sorry. It was just me trying to get on Peña's nerves," he shuffles awkwardly in front of you, shifting the weight from his left leg to his right and back again, "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but I owe him."

You look at him in total confusion, shaking your head, "I don't understand."

He chuckles, shaking his head, "I know, I'm just trying to figure out how to word it," he bites his lip and then seems to resign himself to something, "Javier... he likes you."

You stare.

"My wife and I, we kind of wrangled him into having dinner with us last night. They were talking, she was askin' him about women, if he'd been on any dates, typical questions," he laughs at the memory, "He said no and she asked if he had his eye on anyone. He said no again, but I know this guy like the back of my hand, I can read him like a book. I knew that second no was a goddamn lie."

Your heart is pounding in your chest but your thoughts are muddled, unable to draw a clear conclusion from what Steve is telling you. You continue to just stand there wordlessly, listening.

"A few drinks later - well, more than a few - I asked him who he had his eye on. You wouldn't believe how easy it was to get it out of him, he just smiled, took a drag of his cig..." Steve acts this out, bringing his cigarette-less fingers to his lips and pretending to take a puff, eyes heavy-lidded and bleary, "And said your name."

You can't believe what you're hearing, there's no way it's true, no way he's telling you about something that actually happened. Your heart continues to pound relentlessly, staring at Steve like he's speaking another language, a million wordless questions flying back and forth in your mind at top speed.

"She's the most beautiful creature I ever saw," he quotes, voice slurred and gravelly, "She's sunshine incarnate."

"But he doesn't even look at me!" you blurt out, eyes wide.

Steve drops his hand and laughs again, shaking his head, "Sweetheart, he looks at you all the time. You're just looking away when he does it."

This revelation hits you hard, makes your breath catch in your throat. Is this actually true? Or is this some sick inside joke they're playing to get you to finally put in your notice, one of their private little games that you're not a part of. On principle it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard; the man has spoken to you once, only once, and it was on your first day. He'd introduced himself, shook your hand, and that was that.

"What do you mean you're doing this because you owe him?" you ask, shaking the thoughts away, "Isn't this just humiliating him?"

Steve smiles again, slightly smug, "I see the way you look at him too, you know. I'm not blind," he looks at his watch then and makes a face, "Listen, I gotta go, but if you're heading back to the office, he's still there."

"But, Steve, I-"

"Trust me," he gives you one of his reassuring smiles, "He needs - scratch that - wants someone like you, someone... stable."

You don't think being on the verge of quitting a paid internship would be considered stable, but you understand what he means. You may have only been here a short time but Javier's reputation is widely known around the office, something you've found yourself sympathizing with instead of villainizing him like others do. You know his history with women is pretty bleak relationship wise.

Steve begins to walk away from you, leaving you standing there speechless, "You better hurry before he leaves," he calls. He picks up his pace but you're still able to hear him as he mutters, "and that's my good deed done," then saunters down the hall and disappears around the corner.

--

The office you share with Javier and Steve is the only one still lit on your floor, meaning everyone else has already gone home. You know that Javier likes to stay late sometimes, work on the case alone and look at things from different angles in solitude. You feel nervous as you approach the door, not wanting to bother him. But regardless of whether what Steve said is true, you still need to call a taxi.

You turn the knob and walk inside, trying to be as quiet and slow as possible. Your efforts are pointless though, as Javier looks up from his work and sees you immediately, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

"It's raining," you say softly, awkwardly, "I need to call a cab."

"Right," he nods to you and then returns to his work without an afterthought, writing something down on a piece of paper.

You stand there for a few moments just looking at him, watching his face, trying to find any indication of affection behind those focused eyes, his serious brow. He looks the same as always, lost in thought, scribbling away, handsome as he does it. The white shirt certainly isn't helping; he's unbuttoned it more now, his chest exposed and sunglasses hanging from a button near his pocket. He's so effortlessly gorgeous, it makes you ache.

He must sense you still standing there, not making any move to walk to your desk and pick up the phone. He looks up at you again, brow furrowed, "Do you need something?"

You shake your head quickly, cheeks burning, "N-no, sorry," you shuffle over to your desk and sit down in your chair, doing everything you can to avoid looking over at him again. You think about what Steve said, how Javier is always looking at you but only when you're not aware. You wonder if he's doing it right now.

You reach for the phone, unable to stop your hands from shaking slightly. You're almost sure you feel his gaze on you now, boring into you and watching every move you make, eyes deep and brown and calculating, always calculating. Assessing. What does he make of you? If what Steve said is true, what does he see when he looks at you?

Sunshine incarnate.

You can't help but smile at the words, dialing the number for the taxi slowly as your brain repeats them over and over. Had he really said that about you? And meant it? Your thoughts are so jumbled that you accidentally press the wrong button and have to start over, hanging up the phone quickly before picking it up again.

Just as you go to press the first number, a hand comes down and stops you, brushing against your fingers in a tender and gentle way. You freeze, staring at the hand, knowing it's his, knowing that if he wasn't looking at you before, he certainly is now.

"Why don't I just give you a ride, cariño?" he asks quietly, voice slightly rough around the edges, "I'm heading home now anyway."

You will yourself to look up, eyes capturing his immediately and getting lost in their depths, big and brown and soft and searching. Your lips part but no words come out. You force yourself to give him a nod, repressing the urge to jump up and kiss his mouth, envelop him, hold him close and look even deeper into those soulful eyes.

You stand shakily and walk to the door, feeling his eyes on your back as he follows behind you. The walk down to the main doors of the building is completely silent, save for the clicking of your heels against the linoleum and his heavy masculine breaths at your side. It's still raining once you get outside, and you can't help but make a face.

"Not a fan of the rain?" he asks you a bit loudly over the pelting of water against the concrete, a smile tugging at his lips.

"It's not my favorite," you admit, wincing, "Where are you parked?"

"You stay here where it's dry, I'll pull it up front."

You watch him dart out from under the eaves of the building, rain immediately soaking his white shirt without apology. You watch with wide eyes as his back becomes visible from the downpour, skin a pinkish brown beneath the suddenly translucent material. You catch sight of two dimples near his lower back before he disappears from eyesight.

You swallow, trying to pretend you don't feel yourself begin to throb within the confines of your underwear, a wetness pooling between your legs that has nothing to do with the rain.

Only a few moments later he's pulling up front, waving at you from behind the car window. You dash forward and feel the rain soak your hair, your skin, your blouse. There was nothing about rain in the forecast this morning so you hadn't thought to bring a jacket with you; you're now regretting that decision greatly.

The passenger side door is already unlocked and you slip inside gratefully, slamming it behind you and exhaling loudly. The rain continues to pelt the windows, the roof, a steady and repetitive sound as you look down at yourself to assess the damage. At least you chose a blue blouse and not a white one, although you can faintly see the shape of your nipples poking through the fabric. A bit self conscious, you cross your arms and huddle forward in the seat.

"Should heat up soon," Javier says beside you, quiet like he'd been in the office, "Seatbelt."

You glance over at him for only a second but regret it instantly, immediately noticing the way the rain has completely soaked his white shirt, exposing the taut and firm muscle beneath, his wide pecs, dark nipples, his flat stomach and belly button, the trail of hair that leads down to...

You grip the seatbelt in your hands and turn your attention to clicking it into place, feeling yourself throb even more. God, he's so fucking hot. You can't blame all the women he's slept with for wanting to get in his pants, he's a fucking Adonis. You take a few deep breaths as he pulls away from the building, focusing on the small bursts of heat that are beginning to radiate from the vents in front of you. You rub your hands together, momentarily forgetting that he could probably see your breasts through your blouse if he looked over.

But that's just it...you never know when he's looking at you. And part of you wonders what would be so bad about him seeing you like this.

You drive together in silence for a few moments, an undeniable tension building and building the longer you both sit there without speaking. Every so often you can't help but let your eyes trail back over to his body, eyeing the way his wet shirt clings to his skin, beginning to slowly dry in small patches from the car heater. You can vaguely make out the shape of a scar on his abdomen and you find yourself wanting to reach out and trace your finger along the length of it, ask him how he got it, kiss it better.

"I feel you watching me, querida," he murmurs, eyes on the road.

Your eyes widen and you sit back in your seat stiffly, "S-sorry."

In your peripheral vision you see him smile, thumbing the steering wheel, "You're always watching me, aren't you?"

You don't know what to say, swallowing tightly around the lump you feel building in your throat. Is he about to call you out? Tell you to stop?

"That's okay, I'm always watching you too," he says it quietly like it's a secret, taking a heavy breath as he continues, "But you know that now, don't you? Steve's a little shit."

You can't help but laugh, which makes him grin wider. He looks over at you and you meet his gaze, feeling shy when his eyes drop to your chest and back up again.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he murmurs, eyes back on the road, "I'll be real gentle, I promise."

You stare at him, slightly confused. It's only a moment later that it dawns on you: you never told him your address.

"Where are we going?" you ask quietly, voice shaking slightly in anticipation.

He gives you another side glance, smiling kindly at you, "I think you already know, cariño."

--

No more than twenty minutes later he has you laid out on his bed completely bare, his mouth pressed firmly against your wet core as you writhe and moan under his touch. His palms are pressed flush against your stomach, holding you to the mattress, never releasing you even when you start shaking uncontrollably from your orgasm. He just keeps going, sucking on your clit and fingering your throbbing hole, nose buried in the patch of hair on your mound.

"Javi, Javi, Javi," you repeat over and over again, thrashing in his sheets, fisting the duvet. He'd told you as soon as he had you in his bed that he didn't want you calling him Javier anymore, and you'd had absolutely no problem with amending your vocabulary.

He hums, giving your clit one last hard suck and making you almost scream with overstimulation, body heaving up off the mattress as he finally pulls away from your core and looks up at you with those big brown eyes.

"That's it, querida, feels so good, doesn't it?" he breathes, crawling back up and pressing kisses against your skin as you come down from the pleasure, heart pounding in your chest, "Your little pussy needed me so bad, didn't she?"

"Yes," you whimper, voice weak, unable to say anything else as he continues to kiss along your breasts, your neck, your cheeks. His mustache is soft and welcoming against your skin, tickling every inch of it in the best way possible as he worships you.

You can't believe you're even here, lying in his bed, lights dim as the rain continues to pelt the windows and drench the city while Javier drenches you. He's still wearing the white shirt, still damp and tucked into his jeans. You reach forward and pull at his belt, fingers trembling.

"Oh, cariño," he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth hungrily, "Want my cock now, do you? Thought that might have been too much for you."

You shake your head quickly, feeling tears sting in your eyes at the thought of him not giving you what you want, "Please," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please, Javi. I need it so bad."

"You do," he agrees, hands trailing upward to squeeze your breasts, thumbing your hard nipples, "You need to get fucked, knew it from the moment I met you. Knew it had to be me to do it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you ask, voice breathless as he begins to undo his belt, "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"Because you're so pretty, hermosa, so pure," he tosses his belt to the ground and reaches for the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. Your eyes fall to his bare chest, his stomach, so much clearer now than they'd been through the wet fabric. He's absolutely perfect, and you feel yourself salivate as you reach up to palm the soft skin of his belly, feeling the hair under your fingertips, tracing the scar you'd seen earlier. He grabs your hand gently, squeezes it, "I knew if I talked to you, you'd end up right here. In my bed."

"And that would be a bad thing?" you whisper, eyes searching his, "This is bad?"

He shakes his head quickly, unbuttoning his jeans, "No, querida, this isn't bad. This is what you need, I know that now," he unzips himself and your jaw goes slack when you see that he isn't wearing any underwear, his cock completely bare and on display beneath the denim. He pulls himself out, showing you how long and thick he is, cut and curved, leaking from the tip. Some of it drips onto your tummy and you both watch it dribble down your skin, dipping into your belly button, "You need it," he whispers, "Knew it when you started looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you breathe, still staring at his large cock, wondering how it'll possibly fit inside you without splitting you in half.

"Like the way you're looking at my cock right now," he says softly, shuffling forward a bit on the bed, "Now, sit up, okay? Give it a kiss."

You don't need telling twice, scrambling amongst the sheets and crouching forward to envelop the head of his cock inside your mouth, warm and sticky on your tongue. You close your eyes, feeling them almost roll back in your head as you suck gently and swallow down his precome, tickling the back of your throat.

"Gonna see how much you can take, okay?" he says quietly above you, and you feel his hands in your hair, stroking your scalp reassuringly, "You can stop if it's too much."

You slowly move forward to take a few more inches, eyes still closed, only opening again when you feel his hands grip your hair tighter. You look up then, eyes lidded and heavy, and he's looking down at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Such a pretty mouth," he murmurs, thumbing the base of your neck, "Just made to have my cock in there, huh?"

You nod slowly, breathing through your nose and pushing yourself further, wanting to take as much of him as you possibly can. You get about three quarters down and feel the tip prod the back of your throat. You still, inhaling deeply and feeling tears well in your eyes, silently begging yourself not to gag.

"Just a little more, querida," he whispers, stroking your hair, "You can do it, I know you can."

With his soothing encouragement you slowly take the rest of him, not stopping until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. You inhale again and your senses are overwhelmed by his masculine, sweaty, musky scent. It's heaven. You open your eyes and look up at him, tears welling over and spilling down your cheeks.

"Oh, baby," he says, biting back a moan, "That's so good, knew you could do it," he feels you trembling on his cock, throat closing around the head, and he carefully slides you off.

You start coughing immediately, drool running down your chin in long ropes. You'd feel embarrassed but he's smiling at you, leaning down to press kisses to your forehead.

"You did so good," he praises, wiping your chin with his thumb and kissing your lips tenderly, tasting himself on your tongue, "Took all of it so well, querida."

"I can do it again," you say quickly through another cough, voice rough, "Just gimme a second."

He smiles wider and shakes his head, "I know you can, but you don't need to, not tonight. Just wanted to see if you could take the whole thing in that pretty mouth," he thumbs your lips and you immediately capture it between them, sucking his thumb feverishly. He groans slightly, watching it disappear, "and now that I know you can... we need to see how well it fits inside that perfect little pussy, hm? Think it'll fit?"

You nod immediately, releasing his thumb with a pop, "I'll make it fit."

He groans again, getting off the bed and pulling his jeans down his legs, "That's what I like to hear, baby." He pulls open his bedside table and grabs a condom, tossing it over to you, "Now put that on my dick, cariño, gotta be safe."

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, ripping the condom open with your teeth and sliding it down his length. You feel his eyes on you now; you'd never been able to feel it before, had no idea he'd even been looking at you, and now it's like his gaze is burning your skin. You lean forward and press one more kiss to the head of his cock, smirking when it twitches.

"Come here, hermosa," he mutters, taking your hand and carefully pulling you off the bed. You both stand there naked in front of each other as he leans down to kiss you tenderly, hand trailing up to press flush against your back. He's so beyond everything you could have ever hoped for; you still can't believe this is actually happening, "Stay there for a second," he whispers.

You watch as he gets on the bed and sits at the top, back leaning against the headboard. His cock stands stiff and inviting beneath him as he splays his legs out and opens his arms.

"Sit on my cock, querida," he breathes, and without any hesitation you climb into his lap, legs shaking as you grip his shoulders and hover above him, "Nice and slow," he whispers, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, "That's it."

The tip of his cock breaches your entrance and you keen at the sensation, still shaking slightly as you slowly ease yourself down on him. You're so wet, his length slipping inside easily at first, but once you get about halfway down your hips stutter and you whimper.

"You got it, baby," he breathes, thumbs splayed across your belly, "Not much more," he pushes inside a bit further and you cry out in ecstasy, burying your face in his shoulder. His hands move to your back, holding you tightly against him as he continues to fill you, not stopping until he bottoms out, "There," he murmurs, rubbing circles into the skin of your back, "That's all of it, cariño. Did so good, taking it so well for me."

You sit like that for a few moments, him whispering praises in your ear and rubbing your skin soothingly. He's so thick inside you, you've never felt so full. After a few more moments he carefully grips your hips and slowly begins to move you on his cock, up and down, watching your expression and reveling in the whines emitting from your throat.

"That's it," he says, brow furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your face, "That's what a real cock feels like, querida, and it's the only one you're gonna get from now on." Your face scrunches up in pleasure and you find yourself hiding in his shoulder again, wrapping your arms around him and starting to move your hips to match his pace.

"Javi," you whimper, feeling the head of his cock pushing against the deepest part of you every time you brace down, "So big inside me, Javi."

"I know, cariño," he murmurs, soothing you again with a gentle rub to your back, "Filling you up so good, huh?"

You hum and let yourself go, nose pressed into the dip of his collarbone as you still on his cock and let him go back to working you up and down, murmuring in your ear about how good you feel, what a perfect girl you are, how you'll never fuck anyone else but him for the rest of your life. And you want to believe it's true.

"Work won't be the same anymore," you say against his skin, voice muffled.

"Christ, baby, you're thinking about work?" he taps on your neck and you pull back to look at him, shivering as he continues to fuck you relentlessly as he speaks to you, "Don't think about work right now, querida, not when I've got my cock buried inside you."

"I want you to start fucking me at work," you say suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure as he hits the deepest part of you again, "In secret, please."

He stills for a second, surprise appearing on his face before he smiles, starts fucking you again with even more fervor, grunting with very thrust.

"Of course I will, baby," he says, pressing his forehead against yours, gripping your hips tighter and fucking you fast and hard, so much so that you feel yourself writhe off the bed again, fingers clasping around nothing as you moan loudly, "I told you, ever since I met you I knew you needed this, needed my cock," he kisses you then, wet and hot, and you feel the tension in your belly start to build, "Gonna give it to you every chance I get from now on, I promise."

You whimper at his words, fucking yourself down on him as hard as you can and letting out cries of pure bliss as he begins to hit your favorite spot over and over, so impossibly deep inside you that you think maybe he will split you open. He rises off the bed with you a bit, holding you tight to him as he wildly bucks into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna come, hermosa," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and sticky against your skin, "Give me one more, get that pussy all wet for me," you let out an inhuman sound and feel yourself involuntarily bite into his shoulder, making him groan.

"I'm sorry," you moan, pulling back and seeing the crescent shaped mark in his flesh.

"For what?" he groans, and you feel his thumb start to prod your clit, rubbing it furiously, "Do it again, baby, mark me up, make me yours," you feel your orgasm overtake you at the words, fingernails digging into his back as you writhe and cry in his arms. Without hesitation you bite down on him again, not hard enough to break the skin but enough that there will most certainly be a mark there tomorrow.

He groans at the sensation, pulling you impossibly closer and stilling inside you as he pumps the condom full of his spend, twitching inside you at every pulse. He doesn't pull out right away, just lays still within you while you pant against his shoulder, eyeing the purple mark beginning to bloom on his skin.

"I bit you," you say, eyes wide.

He shifts slightly beneath you, cock still filling you up as he chuckles, "Yes, you did."

"I'm sor-"

He puts a hand up, shaking his head, "Don't apologize, cariño, I like it."

You nod slowly and carefully pull yourself off his cock, already missing the full sensation of having him deep inside you. You lay back on the bed beside him, eyes closed as he disposes of the condom and then settles himself tightly against your side, spooning you and pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck.

"Did you mean what you said?" you ask quietly, eyes still closed as you feel yourself begin to drift off in his embrace, "Will you really fuck me at work?"

He laughs, gorgeous and perfect in your ear, "Yes, mi sol, I meant it."

--

Javi takes you home early the next morning so you can change your clothes, not wanting Steve to know about what happened last night, as much as it would probably tickle him to know he had a hand in it. He waits for you outside, listening to the radio in his car and squinting against the bright sun, fingers tapping against the base of the window absentmindedly. After a few moments you come back out, wearing a yellow blouse this time in honor of your new nickname. He smiles radiantly at you and you know you made a good choice.

You both manage to keep Steve completely in the dark for the first part of the day; Javi goes back to ignoring you the way he usually does, which you have to admit makes you feel a little bad. But it's all water under the bridge when he follows you to the women's bathroom around noon and locks you inside one of the stalls with him. A few seconds later his cock is hitting the back of your throat as he proves to you that he wasn't lying.

--

"What's that?" Steve says in the late afternoon, only about an hour until you can go home. You look up from your desk but he isn't talking to you, his gaze fixed on Javi.

"What?" Javi replies, brow furrowing as he looks down at himself, "Got a bug on me or something?"

"No, you have a bite mark on your shoulder," Steve says matter-of-factly, and you feel your cheeks go hot, eyes widening as you stare at Javier and watch him figure out what to say.

He just shrugs coolly, "Yeah, slept with this wild bonita last night, she wanted to mark me," he looks back down at his work, "Your wife ever do shit like that, Murphy?"

Steve sighs deeply, leaning back in his chair, "No, she doesn't."

"Thought so," Javi smirks, still not looking up from his paperwork, and you watch as Steve twists his mouth into a scowl, shaking his head.

A few seconds later Steve's looking over at you, giving you a small look of what you can only describe as sympathy, "Sorry," he mouths, shrugging dejectedly, "My bad."

You give him a smile in return, shaking your head, unable to help the rush you feel at not getting caught.

"It's okay," you mouth back, "I'll get over it."

You know Javi is watching you this time.

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip (entirely optional of course but much appreciated).

[biteofcherry]

Does mafia Steve from Nesting like his wife's pregnant belly?

Like? Steve loves it! He's obsessed with it. He puts his hand on her belly whenever he can 😊

Nesting

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings for the part below: pregnancy; breeding kink; pregnant belly appreciation; fluff; a bit of smut; soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers;

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Magnifica." Steve murmurs in awe, his warm breath brushing your cheek as he leans his chin on your shoulder to watch his hand roam over your pregnant belly.

You're sprawled in bed, Steve leaning against the headboard and you sitting between his legs, your back resting against his chest. You've been watching a baking show on the ridiculously huge tv screen while Steve fed you bites of fruit and some chocolates.

That's until his focus switched to your belly.

He traces both hands over the flimsy fabric of the pink babydoll you're wearing, resting his palms over the swell of you, chasing little flutters beneath your skin.

He doesn't do it only in bed, though it's mostly where he gets enough time to fully immerse in his fascination with your pregnant body. But Steve touches you whenever he can - keeping an arm around you and a hand spread possessively over your big belly when you're out; lifting your shirt up and peppering your belly with kisses when you're lounging at home. Any given opportunity, really.

Occasionally his focus would switch to your tits, which filled out more and become the core of your latest torment - they're ridiculously sensitive, getting you shaking in arousal with a mere touch.

"You should always look like that." Steve states, his big palm spread over the center of your belly.

"Like a huge whale?" You snort, trying to focus on the cakes that are being currently made on the tv and not on the way Steve's touch makes your sensitive skin tingle.

"Whales can't compare." Steve chuckles, sliding one of his hands a little upwards. "They're not as hot and glowing as you."

He cups your breast - your nipple instantly stiffening under his touch - and you let out a tiny gasp.

"It's only sweat and anti-stretch marks oil." You huff; lately you were becoming more self-conscious and self-depreciating.

"The oil maybe makes your skin softer," Steve pulls down the strap of your nightie and squeezes your exposed breast. Jolt of arousal zaps straight to your clit. "But it's the pregnancy that makes you so sensitive and extra responsive."

"It's my seed growing in your belly that causes it." His voice drops into that low, deep timbre which makes your pussy pulse in anticipation.

Steve starts pulling the fabric of your babydoll upwards, his hand quickly sneaks beneath it to relish in the skin-on-skin contact.

"You are amazing." Steve turns his head to kiss your cheek. "Your body is amazing. It's creating life."

He starts mouthing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"And it takes me so well..." he growls, scraping his teeth over your shoulder.

Suddenly, in a swift yet gentle move, Steve pushes you forward.

He has you on your hands and knees before you manage to utter a single syllable of protest.

Steve nudges your thighs wider apart. You comply instantly, your body already buzzing with need. You kind of hate how quickly you rouse nowadays. Not like Steve had much trouble making you drip in rapid time without your pregnancy hormones raging.

"Already so wet for me." Steve hums, pleased, as his fingers slide between your folds.

"Or maybe, my little wife..." he guides the leaking tip of his cock to your entrance - "You're always ready for me?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He clasps one hand on your shoulder to keep you in place and rests the other hand on your belly as he pushes into your cunt in one, firm stroke.

"Gonna keep you like this for a long time, little bird." He groans in delight as your walls flutter around him. "For as long as your body can take it."

[ellecdc]

Hello beautiful! I have a request that is kinda personal! Anyways o was wondering if you could whip something up about reader and (which ever marauder you think best fits) who kinda has big boobs(like f/h) and is kinda self conscious about it (plus her weight cuz she’s chubby) because they sag and not all cute and perky and such? I could just use the comfort of a marauder and your writing 💕 -thank you lovely

I feel like we must be twins or something; I too am a plus-sized H cup girlie 🙋🏻‍♀️ thanks so much for requesting dolly; we're in this together 💖

James Potter x plus size, busty fem!reader

CW: insecurities, body image issues, negative self-talk, mentions of sex but no smut

You could hear the panicky tone of your whine teetering towards hysterical, but you swallowed past the lump in your throat as you discarded another article of clothing. The top joined the growing number of other shirts, dresses, and pants littering the floor of your closet. You were disturbingly close to tears and knew if you turned around to see your sweet, handsome boyfriend who had the audacity to sit casually on your bed without a single care in the world, it’d push you over the edge.

Apparently, he did have at least one care in the world.

“You almost ready, lovie? We have to leave soon if we want to get to Marlene’s on time.” James asked from his place, laying back on your bed as he threw a small stress ball above him and caught it only to fling it upwards again and again. 

The worst part was how sweet he was about it; you’d never know from his gentle tone or word choice that he was basically accusing you of making the two of you late.

It would have been better if he’d been rude or snide, perhaps more overtly accusative – at least then you would have felt validated in how harsh your next words came out.

“I’m going as fast as I can, James.”

Though you didn’t turn away from your closet, you could tell he paused the ball throwing as he calculated your sudden mood change.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He started carefully, moving to a sitting position. “I just know how much you hate being late, is all. I didn’t mean to rush you.”

Your next exhale came out a little shaky, but from your place in your closet, James couldn’t pick up on it. 

“I know. I’m trying.” You said, working overtime to keep your voice even. He must have picked up on some of the tension anyways, as he rose from his place and came to stand behind you, hands moving to your shoulders instinctively. Unfortunately, with your current mindset – your shoulders immediately flew to your ears, effectively shaking him off of your body.

“Maybe you should go without me.” You admitted quietly. Suddenly, the idea of putting on anything except one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of sweats felt like nothing short of torture. 

“You don’t want to go?” He murmured just as quietly.

It’s not that you didn’t want to go – although, at this point your answer was leaning heavily towards hell no I don’t. 

You loved Marlene; you were excited to celebrate her birthday, you got her a wonderful present you know she’ll be ecstatic over, and you always had fun with the group when you could all manage to get together. And besides, getting the whole group together was happening less and less now that you were all adults, living separately and working various jobs. 

So no, it’s not that you didn’t want to go.

What you didn’t want was to look at yourself in even one more piece of clothing that was either too tight, too frumpy, too lowcut, or showed off too much skin.

Who even bought these clothes? Why do you own them?

If you asked your mother, she would simply say you were ‘well-endowed’, which roughly translated to ‘you inherited your grandmothers dreadfully large breasts, darling, I’m sorry.’

Some may wonder what defines ‘dreadfully large breasts’. In your case, it was an H cup. 

Well-endowed could be used to describe one of those busty models in lingerie ads, not you.

Yours were large, and long, and marked with stretchmarks and not perky in the slightest. Nothing a good bra couldn’t fix though, right?

Wrong.

Bras that were big enough for breasts like yours were not at all cute. You had to special order them in most cases, and they were always beige or pink and they never did offer you as much lift you as much as you’d like.

If your boobs were the only part of your body causing you grief, you’d probably relent. But skinny girls don’t often have boobs this big, and it wasn’t just your tops that were bothering you.

Every pair of jeans and trousers you pulled over your hips felt too snug, too restrictive. You felt as if one wrong move and you’d pop right out of them like one of those Pillsbury biscuit containers.

James interrupted your mournful musings with a gentle “love?” and brushed the side of your wrist with his finger, clearly hesitant to touch you after you’d shaken him off earlier.

“I can’t find anything to wear.” You admitted.

James looked around at the clothing surrounding you before his bemused face turned back to yours. “What do you mean, love? It seems you’ve found a lot to wear.”

You rolled your eyes and felt the first tear fall. “James...” But he was already in problem solving mode.

“What about this?” He asked as he picked up a tank top you had discarded because the cut was too low, and the straps were too thin.

“I don’t have the right kind of bra for that.”

He looked between your bra covered form and the shirt, clearly not understanding what that meant but not willing to argue about it. 

“Okay...” He said as he dropped the offending shirt back onto the floor. “What about this?”

You didn’t even bother looking at the shirt he was holding. “If it’s on the floor, it’s a no.”

“But why is it a no?”

You looked over to see the button up shirt he was holding. “Because it makes me look...” fat, was going to be the negative ending of your sentence, but James’ face turned hard as he cut you off.

“Beautiful?”

You scoffed. “Sure James, I decided against the shirt because it made me look beautiful.”

“Okay.” James said far more sternly than you believe you’ve ever seen him. You turned and grabbed a t-shirt, so you at least weren’t being scolded by your boyfriend half-naked.

“Am I attractive?”

You reared your head back at his question – not at all where you thought this conversation was headed. “Uhm, yes? Yeah...of course.”

“I’ll forgive the hesitation on account of you being upset.” He said severely which caused you to snort a laugh as you wiped tears away from your eyes.

“Is Sirius attractive?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you could tell by James’ eyes moving towards your nose that you were scrunching it up in confusion.

“This feels like a trick.”

“You can answer the question honestly.”

“Okay...yes, Sirius is attractive.”

“Okay. And Mary? Is she attractive?”

“Yes.”

James nodded curtly. “And would you say that the three of us have good taste?”

“Wha-”

“Just answer the question.”

“Sure, you guys have good taste, but I don’t see-”

“You want to know what the three of us have in common?”

You sighed and nodded, knowing he was going to tell you regardless. 

“We have nothing physically in common – yet you find all three of us attractive. Alternatively, all three of us have had a crush on you.”

You scoffed. “Shut up, James.”

“I’m not joking.” He said, and you noticed he was almost just as stern as he was when this conversation began. “Sirius said he’d never do anything about it – bro code and all...also he’s like, happy with Moony now or whatever. But Mary had no such qualms; she told me that if things don’t work out between the two of us that she’s throwing her hat in the ring. I made her promise not to tell you - in case you left me for her - but I figured this was a good moment to share.” 

You barked a surprise laugh that seemed to ease some of the tension from James’ frame.

“Now, I don’t like the way you were just talking about my girlfriend.” He said gently, opening his arms as an invitation; an invitation you quickly accepted as you moved into his embrace. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmured into his chest.

“You should be.” He murmured into the hair on your head. 

“I just hate my body sometimes.” You admitted quietly. He never faltered in his gentle strokes of your back but hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Well, I love it all of the time, so.” 

“I don’t see how.” You whined as you pulled back. “My boobs are saggy, my tummy juts out, I’m soft everywhere, I’m covered in stretchmarks.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re just listing some of my favourite things, sweets. Your boobs?” He said as he moved his firm grip to your clothed breasts. “Look at that! Can’t even fit them in one hand.” He murmured, eyes glazing as he took in the view of your boob pooling around his large hand. “If I want to give your tits the attention they deserve, I need to use both hands! And your tummy...”

He moved his hands down your abdomen, albeit with more consideration than he’d shown your breasts. “I have to admit, this is my favourite spot to lay my head when we’re watching movies, but what I love the most about your tummy?” He said with a low growl as he spun you around aggressively, pushing the front of his hard body up against the back of yours, grabbing roughly at your hips/stomach as he moved his lips to your ears. “Gives me something to hold onto when I’m pounding into you from behind, or better yet, as you ride the fuck out of me.” 

Your face was a furnace and you were sure James could feel the heat radiating from you as he spun you back to face him. 

“What else were you worried about? Stretchmarks?” He said as he pulled his shirt off in one swift movement, showcasing his demi-god body style. “I’ve got them too.” He stated simply as he pointed to marks lining his biceps and pecs, a few on his hips, and pulled his trousers down slightly so you could see them trailing towards his ass.

“I know you’ve seen all of these before too – you’re no stranger to my body.” He said with a salacious wink.

“James...” you moaned, not able to handle anymore sexual innuendos. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sure you get the idea.” He relented as he replaced his shirt. “My point is, you’ll look lovely in anything you put on, but I’d prefer you wear something you’ll be comfortable in. I can have my girl suffering in her head all night.” 

You rested your forehead against his chest, willing away the tension headache that was forcing its way forward after all you just put yourself (and admittedly, James) through.

“What’s wrong with the shirt you’re wearing now?” He asked kindly.

You looked down at the old band-tee, it had a few holes in it and paint stains.

“It has holes in it and paint stains.” You deadpanned.

“Sirius always said to make dishevelled look intentional. Do you have a leather jacket?” He asked, turning toward your closet without waiting for an answer.

Suddenly, James was pulling a leather jacket around your shoulders, and grabbing a pair of heels.

“Now the stains and holes will look intentional. I think you look bad ass.” 

You weren’t as optimistic, but you turned to observe yourself in the mirror. Even if you didn’t see much of a difference, the sight of James looking at you like you hung the moon was enough to convince you to go for it. Either way, you’d be comfortable.

You’re not sure if James had mentioned anything, but both Sirius and Mary made sure to compliment you on your ‘punk rock look’ when you arrived to Marlene’s party 30 minutes late. 

[morgana-larkin]

Hey I was wondering if u could do Melissa x reader where reader has scars that she’s embarrassed about and so she always wear a jumpers or long sleeves but one day it’s really warm and reader refuses to take it off coz she’s embarrassed and Melissa helps her realise that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about (as always no pressure I adore your work sm 🫶)

This was really cute, I liked writing this. I must be in a mood cause it’s the second fic today I wrote and it has smut 🤦🏼‍♀️ maybe just excited to see our girl on screen again 🤷🏻‍♀️

On another note: on to the next prompt and I’m wondering where that’s gonna go, possibly heartbreak from my own creation, @esposadejoyhuerta I’m looking at you, your prompt is next.

Map Of Your Scars

Warnings: reader self conscious about her scars, smut

Words: 2.3k

You stand there looking at yourself naked in the mirror and take a deep breath. Looking at all your scars you have, either from the car accident you were in, cuts that didn’t heal all the way or acne scars.

You take another deep breath and then get dressed, getting ready for another day at Abbott Elementary. You’ve been working there for almost 9 months as a fifth grade teacher and you absolutely love it. The staff are great, the kids are great, the principal is questionable, it’s a blast there.

It’s warm out since it’s mid May so you go for a light jumper and sweater. Already you feel warm just walking into the halls of the school but you’ve done this before, just keep the sweater on until you get home.

You walk into the break room and get a coffee and you sit next to Melissa on the couch to watch the news with them. Melissa looks over at your jumper and sweater and quirks an eyebrow. “I hope you’re not going to be wearing that sweater on our recess duty today like you did last week.” She tells you and you blush. You developed a crush on the beautiful redhead, and from what you hear, she’s only dated exclusively men, bummer.

“Recess duty? Oh is that today?” You ask, you totally forgot about that. Melissa nods and you sigh. “Well I am, I think it looks good with the jumper.”

“Hun, it does look good but it’s not practical.” She points out. Melissa ignored you when you first got there but has since taken an interest in you, all the recess duties together probably helped.

“If I get too hot then I’ll take it off and wrap it around my waist, so it’s fine.” You tell her with a shrug and at that, she drops it.

At lunchtime, you still have the sweater on and refuse to take it off. You can see Melissa keeps eyeing you and the sweater.

“Can I help you Melissa?” You ask her when you see her looking at you again.

“Hun it’s like 25 degrees (77 Fahrenheit) out. You’re gonna be hot in that.” She says and you sigh.

“Actually at the moment I’m fine.” You tell her and she goes back to her phone and food.

When you two are walking together to go outside for your recess duty, she glances at you.

You both are outside, 10 minutes in to your recess duty, making sure the students are keeping out of trouble. Melissa walks up to you, “hun, take the sweater off, I can see you sweating.” She says.

“I’m fine.” You say and walk away. You’re not fine though, you are starting to get really hot but you don’t want anyone to see your scars, especially her, the red goddess that visits you in your dreams.

20 minutes later you’re really sweating and lightheaded and starting to see blurry spots in your vision. You and Melissa are rounding the kids up and she can see you’re not doing well, she’s noticed you trying to stabilise yourself more than once. Once the kids are heading inside she comes up to you again.

“Hey are you ok? You don’t look too good.” She says and puts a hand on your arm. You don’t really notice the hand on you, you’re too busy trying not to fall. You just nod at her and she helps to lead you inside.

You take one step in the school and you immediately fall. “Y/N!” Melissa yells as she catches you. Gregory is close by when he hears Melissa yelling and looks at her and sees you in her arms. He runs over to her and sees that your eyes are closed.

“What happened?” He asks her and she looks up at him.

“Heat exhaustion. I told her to take the stupid sweater off. Can you help me carry her to the nurse?” She asks and he nods and picks you up.

Once you're at the nurses office, they lay you down on the bed and Melissa takes off your sweater. The nurse instructs Gregory to leave as they need to unbutton your jumper to release the heat in your body.

You wake up and the first thing you notice is that you’re not hot anymore or sweaty. In fact, you’re perfectly fine. Then you notice there’s a breeze on the top half of you and you look down at yourself and see your sweater is off and your jumper is unbuttoned. You look over to your left and see Melissa talking to the nurse. She then notices you awake and walks over to you.

“Hey, how you feeling?” She asks you.

“Good.” You tell her, as you start to button up your jumper in a panic.

“You gave me a scare back there.” She tells you and you look up at her as you finish buttoning up your jumper.

“Where’s my sweater?” You ask her as you look around for it.

“I have it but I’m not giving it to you.” You look at her.

“Why?”

“Why? Because you fainted from heat exhaustion, that’s why. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you just take it off? Why are you wearing a jumper? It’s May right now. You can’t be dressing in hot clothes anymore.”

“I can wear what I want.” You say to her and cover up your arms as much as possible.

“Why didn’t you just take it off?” She asks you and you look over and see the nurse watching the conversation and you look away embarrassed. Melissa looks back and sees. “Do you mind giving us the room for a moment please?” She asks the nurse and she nods and leaves the room. “So why didn’t you take it off?” She asks you again.

“Because…of my scars.” You say quietly.

“You’re scars?” Melissa asked. She of course noticed them when she was helping to undress you but didn’t think much of them.

“Ya, they’re embarrassing, so I cover them up so no one else sees them.” You tell her.

“Hun, it doesn’t matter if you got scars, no one's gonna care or say anything bad about them. And if they do then I’ll take care of them.” She tells you with a wink and you look at her, still embarrassed. Melissa tries a different approach. “I saw them and I still think you’re beautiful.” She says and you look at her with wide eyes.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask her and she nods.

“Uh huh, inside and out.” She tells you and you blush. “How did you get them? Your scars.” She asked and you take a deep breath.

“Car accident, cuts and acne.”

“Your scars are a part of you and they tell a story of who you are, nothing to be ashamed of.” She tells you and you look down, you don’t quite believe what she’s telling you. Melissa notices your disbelief and knows she has to try something drastic, drastic situations call for drastic measures. She places her hand on your chin and forces you to look up at her. “Maybe you’ll believe me now.” She tells you in a low, almost seductive voice, and kisses you.

You’re stunned when she does and you don’t know what to do. She pulls back and sees your expression. “Were you not expecting that?” She jokes and you shake your head.

“I..um…well… you’re straight.” You tell her and she giggles.

“I’m not straight hun. I lean more towards men but a few women have caught my eye over the years.” She tells you and you stare at her in disbelief. “Do you have a crush on me?” She asks you since you’re staring at her and you nod your head. “Well that’s good cause I have a crush on you.” She tells you and you blink at her, looking like a deer in the headlights. She cups your cheek, “can I kiss you again?” She asks you and you immediately nod your head and she giggles, she kisses you again and this time you kiss her back. You put a hand at the back of her head and she places one on your waist. After about a minute, you pull away for air.

“Wow” you say, trying to catch your breath.

“How about you come back to my place tonight? It’s Friday night so no school tomorrow and maybe I can show you another way of how beautiful you are, with or without scars.” She tells you and you practically hear your brain crashing.

“I- you…um..what?” You ask her.

She leans in to your ear and whispers seductively. “If you come over after school then I’ll kiss all your scars and your entire body.” She says and leans back and winks at you. “Think about it.” She says and leaves.

You go back to your students, completely forgetting that you don’t have a sweater on until one of your students asks you where you got the scar on your right arm. You look at it then look at your student that looks full of curiosity. “Car accident.” You tell him and your students all look at you with wide eyes and open mouths.

“That’s so cool! Not the car accident but your scar. It makes you look cool.” He says to you and you smile.

“Thanks kiddo.” You tell him and then get back to your lesson.

After school you dismiss your last student and see Melissa standing in your doorway, your sweater in her hands. “Hey.” Just tells you and you walk towards her.

“Hi.” You tell her and blush.

“You’re cute when you blush.” She says and you blush even more. “So have you decided about tonight?” She asks and you nod. “What is it then?”

“I want to come to your place.” You say and she smiles.

“Good choice, come on then. I’ll drive us there.” She says and turns to leave.

“What about my car?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“I can drive you back here to get it tomorrow.” She tells you and you nod and follow her out.

She drives you to her place, with a hand on your thigh the entire time, that you noticed kept creeping up more and more. You try to keep your composure but it was hard when her hand was so close to where you’ve wanted her for months.

As soon as you walk in her house she spins around and traps you between her and her door. You look at her stunned and you blush. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me, trying not to kiss you for the past 5 months?” She says in a seductive voice and you shake your head. “Well I’m going to show you, come on!” She tells you and grabs your hand and pulls you upstairs to her room.

Once there she pushes you down on the bed and crawls on top of you. The sight makes you lightheaded in the best way. She kisses you passionately and she takes your breath away. While kissing you, she begins to unbutton your jumper slowly. Once done, she pulls back and looks at you as she takes the top half off of you.

“You look so beautiful.” She says and begins kissing the scars that are on your chest and arms. She then proceeds to kiss your neck then nipples and you moan. Once she’s satisfied with her work, she pulls the button part of your jumper off of you. “Omg y/n, how are you so beautiful? I feel so lucky right now.” She says and kisses the scars on your legs. After she makes sure she got all of them, she then kisses your clit, making you buck your hips.

“Oh Melissa, oh my god.” You say grabbing her hair as she sucks on your clit. She pulls away and replaces her lips with a finger.

“What is it baby? What is it you want?” She asks you with a smirk.

“You! Want you, inside me.” You tell her and she smiles.

“As you wish.” And she pushes 2 fingers inside of you and you moan. Melissa is just loving the sounds you’re making because of her, she could listen to them all day. But for now, she wants to hear you when you cum. She attaches her mouth back to your clit and continues to fuck you with her fingers. She sees you start to shake and feels you clenching her fingers. “Are you gonna cum baby?” She asks and you nod. “Go on then, cum for me.” She tells you and you cum on her fingers. She gently pulls out of you and licks her fingers that were inside of you, moaning at the taste of you. “God, you’re so beautiful and you taste so good.” She says and you blush.

Monday morning you come to school in a dress that stops mid thigh and a smile on your face. You walk into the break room, get your coffee and sit on the couch next to Melissa. She sees you in a dress and she smiles and places a kiss on your lips.

All your coworkers see this and their jaws drop. Then Ava hands $20 over to Barb and Gregory hands $20 over to Jacob and Janine. You look at them all confused. “Were you betting on something?” You ask them.

“Ya, they were betting on when I’d tell you I like you.” Melissa says with a sigh and you giggle. Melissa wraps an arm around you and pulls you in closer.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

Let me know if you want to be added!

[hopelessdazai]

Dazai and female s/o being each other first time?

✿ 》Those Promises Of Yours.

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; I got you anon. coming right up. [ holy shit zai update. apologies for my absence once again, writing hasn't been a priority recently but I'll try to start up again :) feel free 2 send in vague concepts / thirsts pls ]

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; dazai x f!reader, nsfw, slight corruption from dazais end but its still all consensual, vague mention of self harm once, dazai can't keep his fuckin promises, slightly rough sex, no aftercare but it's hinted at + he's soft at the end anyway. I suck at dialogue.

dazai osamu was a womaniser, a player anything but loyal.

that was something that everyone had learnt to know and only some could bring to love. this fact wasn't foreign to you, and neither was it ignored. though you certainly hadn't anticipated that he himself was a virgin.

so you found yourself in his lap in your apartment. he'd refused to take you back to his, claiming "a princess such as yourself should have the luxury of familiarity," but you could've easily called his bluff with the stench of alcohol on his breath. the place was probably ridden with bottles and signs of his lowest mental points.

he'd never been good at being vaunrable anyway.

dazai fumbles with your shirt, his hands shakily trying to unbutton them in a way that would hopefully erase the concept he didn't know what he was doing. you took it upon yourself to close your hand over his, giving him a soft smile, which he returned. you could almost smell the anxiety dripping from his body. was he sweating?

"it must be the drugs," he mumbles, finding an excuse. his voice is hoarse, tense, even. nothing like the usual confidence he carried himself with; his tone had never been anything but smug. and you liked this side of him. you loved it.

"you're sober." you respond, your tongue had carried nothing but truthfulness this entire time. and you were nervous too. the vaunrability that was required of both of you was enough to keep your mouth without a lie. he laughs breathily, sliding your shirt from your shoulders and unclasping your bra with only mild difficulty.

"I could be masking, no?" the brunette begins, his hand sliding down under your skirt to tap at the inside of your thigh. your breath hitches. "I've always been rather good at hiding when I'm high. you should know that." you shake your head. he didn't smell like any drug. just him. just dazai.

"you're being too conscious to be high." you respond, working to undress him back. it'd be too awkward if you were the only one shirtless, your mind wasn't foggy yet. but you still couldn't get rid of the ache between your legs. he was all you needed.

dazai doesn't respond, merely wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you into a kiss. he was acting, you could feel it. none of his gestures were the same as how you'd see him treat the ladies he'd woo at the bar. it felt real, raw. you kiss him back.

he helps you undress him, you find yourself in a state where the only covers you both possess are your underwear. completely at each others mercy, vaunrable.

he wasn't sure if he hated it or not.

dazai brings a hand down to pull your underwear aside, collecting your wetness with his middle finger. it almost felt like he himself was adjusting to your anatomy, figuring where he'd have to touch to make you feel good. he'd always spoken about wanting to give you the best experience he could.

you wince at the intrusion as he slides his finger into you, feeling him bend down to gently kiss your forehead as he worked you apart like woolen scarfs in the autumn. the warmth of a promise to carry you through to the next spring. an unvoulentary whimper leaves your lips as he brushes against a certain spot, and you swear his eyes darken a shade.

dazai had promised himself he'd make sure it wouldn't hurt for you. he promised that he'd gently ease you in. he'd promised a lot of things. but after seeing you like this, you might as well slice his pinky finger clean off.

he doesn't quite know what's coming over him when he lays you down on the couch, pulling your underwear completely down and tossing them somewhere in the room, he didn't care. he slides a second finger into you and almost lets out a gasp at how you tighten.

he'd promised to be gentle.

"osamu." you whisper, your voice almost foreign to you. his eyes met yours, then did his lips. you'd felt how desperate he'd become, sloppy open mouthed kisses where his tongue tried to cherish your taste for all eternity. maybe calling him by a name he'd never heard wasn't the best idea.

he pulls away, pulling his fingers out and making quick work of shuffling his boxers off. gently sliding his cock in-between the warmth of your folds, daring to slide in without the prep he knew you would've needed.

the prep he promised.

he meets your gaze, noticing the slight fear in your eyes. he knew it'd hurt you, dazai knew damn well the pain the stretch would cause. but something about those eyes of yours, something about the look of fear. it was almost like he didn't care. he didn't mind breaking a promise.

"..hold your breath." He mutters, gradually sliding himself into you, and you let out a whine, trying to hold your breath like instructed. he felt your nails dig into his back. they'd be nice marks to tattoo permanently, maybe you'd be a healthier method of drawing his own blood. his pelvis pressed against yours

he smiled as you let out a shaky exhale, staying still to allow you at least a small adjustment period. cupping your cheeks as a tear fell down your cheek. fuck. he couldn't even find it in him to feel bad anymore. you were so warm.

you'd only managed to focus your eyes to look up at him for a second, before clenching them shut as he snapped his hips against yours. it stung, you could feel the trickle of blood.

"ah- 'samu-.. wait-!" was all you could manage to say, hearing his breath get heavier as he set himself a pace. he wasn't waiting for you to adjust anymore, he wasn't waiting for anything. if he could prioritise himself once, this was the time.

"shh-.. shh.. 'tll feel good. I promise. fuck-" his voice broke, moving a hand to hold onto your thigh, pushing it up to meet your shoulder. you were never this flexible, it almost stung. but you couldn't do anything but trust him.

and something about it did feel good. even as the burn hit you from more areas then you would've liked; something about the desperation behind how dazai fucked you and how he was using you to relieve his stress. it felt good. you enjoyed to be used like this.

your mind fogged, feeling him hit that one spot inside you repeatedly, you were struggling to breathe. struggling to think straight, struggling to focus on anything but the man inside of you. and dazai seemed the same. his mouth half open and bangs out of order, hanging in front of his eyes. you could hear his heavy breaths and faint whines. and it only turned you on further.

your nails dug into his back, the only sensation you processed was his thumb rubbing your clit as you hit your high, chanting out his name like a mantra as he chuckled, his thrusts becoming rougher before he buried himself deep into you, an unfamiliar warmth filling your abdomen. your vision going white.

you almost blacked out for a moment.

"..sweetheart?" a sweet voice called out as you regained your ability to see. dazai's arms were shaking, obviously struggling to keep himself pinned up over you. his eyes were softer, kinder. a man you barely knew. there was a shine of concern in them.

"..are you okay? shit- did I go too far? 'm sorry.. you felt so good.. you're a good girl.." and all you did in response was smile. he'd done enough, he'd always be enough. though the stickiness between your thighs and loss of fullness as he pulled out was mildly discomforting.

"mmhm.. im fine." you reply, feeling him sit himself back, pulling you up and into his arms. pressing you close to him and peppering you with kisses. "I love you.. s'much.. my baby.. im sorry.. i know I broke my promise. i'll get you cleaned up.."

you just smiled. maybe this broken promise wasn't so bad after all.

[babygirl-riley]

Reader always wears long clothing even during the summer due to eczema and ghost gets suspicious?

Desert Heat

Ghost has been your LT for couple of months now. It made since to him why you wore long sleeves during the cold season. Now that it is hot, it made him worry, especially when you freaked out when someone tried to pull them up.

A/N: Omgggggg I love soft simon or ghost! I could only imagine that he is very understanding and kind about insecurities.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of anxiety attacks, mentions of self harm, soft!ghost, swearing

Taglist

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

Ghost always kept a close eye on you. Anytime there was a mission he would make sure to be near you or with you. Soap would tease you about it, saying that the moment you stepped foot into the team Ghost was your shadow. You never truly believed Soap until the summer came along.

In the summer your skin will flare up with your eczema. Even though it’s easier to hide during the winter the summer makes it more irritated and flares up. You had certain medications and only one type of lotion to help it keep it at bay. You never liked it, always making you feel self conscious of how it looks.

So when you didn’t change your long sleeves it was normal for you. Didn’t think anyone would mind or pay attention enough. Oh how you were dead wrong. The heat of the day was little over 100, it was nice out, and due to you used to having the sleeves on it didn’t bother you.

Oh but how it worried Ghost, when training recruits he noticed you looked flushed. Tired. His thoughts ran wild of how it could be the start of dehydration. Or heat exhaustion. You smiled as you watched the recruits reaching the full potential of your training until Ghost came up.

“Fuck,” You whispered, you thought total different reasons on why he was approaching you. You fucked up a drill that is what you could only think of. “Yes sir?” You asked as he approached.

“Ya know it’s 100 out here yeah?” He asked looking at your clothing more closely now.

Confused you nodded. “Of course I do LT.”

“Ya wearing some long sleeves that ‘M sure that is not comfortable.” He commented again, you looked at his eyes, covered worry behind them.

You shrugged. “I’m not too hot but thank you sir.” Before he could say anything a recruit called out for you. “Anything else?”

He shook his head and nodded towards the recruit. Nonverbal indication to go handle it. That didn’t stop Ghost from watching more throughout the summer. He saw that you had different military graded long sleeves. Never once he saw you in any tank, t-shirt, hell even a bra. Always a sweatshirt at night and long sleeve in the day.

It had his mind wonder into different things. One thing that made his stomach turn, could you be harming. That is the one thing that he couldn’t shake off. He has seen it before in other soldiers but never his own let alone…someone he cared for in this type of field. Ghost offered a hand to hand just you and him, practice on close combat.

You were good but long distance was your strong category. It was a long but interesting hand to hand training, you would get the best of him at times but be quickly put on your ass. You would laugh when you would miss foot or kick hard enough on his side to have a huff get out of him.

“Come on Lt, that’s not the best you can do?” You teased, you and him had that ‘married couple’ banter. Both of you were the only ones that could do that to each other. Yeah Soap would give you shit but not like Ghost.

Ghost chuckled. “Just tiring you out doll.” He said feeling sweat gather on his back.

After a couple of hits he got you pinned on the floor. At first it was going to be an easy get away that was until your sleeve was sliding up. Panic coursed through your veins, as you watched through the corner of your eye. Ghost noticed and looked over, that’s when you yelled uncle and pushed as hard as you could.

Ghost snapped from the trance of seeing your skin. He grunted as you quickly stood up. “Thank you sir,” You said breathily. “See you in the briefing.”

And that was that. Before he could even speak a word you were gone. Ghost affirmed to himself that you were harming yourself. So no, you wouldn’t see him at the briefing. You saw him an hour later.

With the knock at your private quarters, you were shocked to see Ghost. “Sir…”

“Don’ sir me,” He started to walk on shutting the door behind him. “I tryin’ to not invade ya space however,” He looked at your sleeves. “I am worried.”

You gave him a confused look then chuckled. “You don’t need to be worried Ghost.”

Ghost still wasn’t looking at you, after a couple of minutes it hit you. “Why do you wear the long sleeves? It’s hot in the summer here and I can tell when you get over heated.” He explained as he looked up at you.

You bit your lower lip as you turned away from him. “Just like them is all.”

Ghost noticed the change in your demeanor nice but standoffish. For a SAS they are trained to see these things, anything that changes can help them through a stand off or interrogation. You knew of it and tried so hard to act it off. But your anxiety said different.

“Don’ bullshit me y/l/n,” Ghost said gently grabbing your wrist having you slowly turn to him. You saw the concern in his eyes. “I-Are-Are you hurtin’…”

Your eyes went wide. “No,” You said ripping your wrist away. “Sorry no…it’s just…it’s not pretty still. My skin isn’t pretty.” You looked away wrapping yourself softly with your arms.

Ghost now was confused, scars maybe? Burns? He understood that, he had them underneath his clothing. He walked closer to you. “I highly doubt that,” You snapped your head up as he grabbed your hand. “You are a-you are beautiful I don’ think scars are gonna…”

You chuckled, not because of his answer but because of everything else it could be he goes to the worst. “No Ghost it’s just,” You sighed pulling one of your sleeves up. Showing the eczema, the way it was bright red, traveling up your arm more. Ghost looked at you then your arm. “My skin just gets irritated and it just makes me feel not beautiful. People used to tell me I was a walking plague in high school because of it. So…”

Ghost scoffed. “Them bastards are idiots to think that,” He looked at you, you can tell he started to smile. “It doesn’ hurt?”

“Not usually, sometimes it feels like it burns if it’s super irritated but nothing crazy.” You said smiling but getting more shocked at the softness that Ghost was displaying.

Ghost sighed and nodded. “Maybe we can find somethin’ more light ya know? Not get too hot,” He stepped back for a moment. “Maybe a tattoo sleeve cover.”

You chuckled shaking your head. “Jesus Ghost.”

He stood there for another moment. “That should do yeah,” He looked up at you. “Debriefing is soon we better go.”

Ghost turned around as you walked with him. “Should have recorded you saying that I was beautiful.” You teased.

“Don’t test it Sargent.” Ghost mumbled feeling his face heat up. He was fucking happy that he had that mask on. Cause he felt like a school boy all over again.

However, you had to hide your face as it turned red. Knowing that your lieutenant thought you were beautiful.

[limehaspassed]

Brahms with a Petite S/O

(Brahms Heelshire x GN!Reader)

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A collection of headcannons/ imagines about Brahms being with a petite s/o who’s insecure about their height. This is basically a self-insert, not sorry.

P.S. you basically take Greta’s place.

Content Warning: Mentions of sex and praising.

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You’ve always been short your entire life and everyone, at some point or another, has pointed it. It’s been mentioned so much to the point that it grew to be a sensitive subject. You were self conscious about your height, how small you were compared to everyone else.

Despite how self conscious you were, men would jot on you left and right, flirting and making moves you didn’t want them to make. You denied each one of them, despising them for only liking you because of how small you were compared to them, as if you were nothing more than sex doll.

When you got the job as a babysitter for the Heelshire’s, you were beyond ecstatic when you can to the realization you were babysitting a doll. Children would often tease and pick fun of you for your height, so you were glad this one couldn’t talk.

Of course, you attended your duties, following the routine, glad to be out of the sight of everyday people. You even had a grocery boy so you didn’t have to leave the house, only downside was that he seemed to be like every other man you encountered, seemingly stricken with you at first sight because of your height.

You had a suspicion that someone else lived in the house when things turned up missing, when food seemed to disappear from the fridge, and when objects seemed to clatter about in the night.

This was confirmed when you and said grocery boy had gotten into a fight, you growing tired of his advances. He had backed you against the dining table, the force of you falling practically falling against enough to knock the doll off the table.

It shattered and your heart dropped.

That was when Brahms came out of the walls, showing himself to you. He practically looked over you, even though he was across the room.

He immediately went after the grocery boy, you don’t like to remember what happened next.

When had finished his business with the grocery boy, he turned to you. You heart had dropped, you stomach churning, and your palms sweating.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to break it. We can… we can glue it back together.” Your words came out in pieces, dear gripping you tight. You were almost sure you were going to die.

He didn’t kill you, in fact, he ignored the doll and walked over to you, now towering over you. You were scared to meet his eyes. He placed a hand on your shoulder, it wasn’t aggressive but it wasn’t quite gentle.

You looked up, your eyes connecting with his, his eyes staring back into yours. You felt even smaller in this moment, tinier than you already were.

You didn’t know what to do so you just continued to follow the schedule, grabbing at strings.

“It’s bedtime, Brahms.” You whispered.

He allowed you to lead him to bed, his hand slipping into yours as you led him up the stairs. Your heart had skipped a beat at how massive his hand was compared to you, your hand was completely engulfed by his. It only reminded you of how pathetic your body was.

You tucked him in and went to leave when he asked for a goodnight kiss. You reluctantly kissed him and he met you tenfold, grabbing you and pulling your close. You felt small in his grasp, smaller than you’ve ever felt.

When he had released you from the kiss, you said goodnight and left, closing the door behind you and falling to the floor.

What the hell was that?

The next day, you had resumed the schedule, but with the actual Brahms instead of a doll. It was odd and it would take some getting used to, but a part of you didn’t mind, you were quickly growing used to his presence.

Besides the kiss from the night before, he hasn’t made any advances and he doesn’t comment about your height.

Whenever he sees you struggling to grab something, he’ll grab it for you, not saying anything rude or criticizing you.

As months passed, you two grew closed to the point you were basically dating, you both slept in the same bed now.

When it was bedtime, he would lay down next to you and pull you close against him, wrapping his body around you. It comforted you, giving you a sense of safety despite the brutality you had seen him perform once before.

For once in your life, you didn’t hate your height. However, sometimes, you couldn’t help but retreat back to those insecurities. Whenever this happened, Brahms would come up behind you and wrap you in his arms, peppering the top of your head in kisses. Sometimes he would tickle you, wanting you to smile instead of frown.

Sometimes, kisses and tickles weren’t enough, your mind far too clouded by insecurity to even recognize his touch. That was when Brahms would use his words.

“Perfect for holding.” He would say, picking you up with ease. A part of you hated how easily he could pick you up but another part of you loved it, finding it fun to be picked up and held close to the person you loved

When that didn’t work, he would bring you over to a tall surface and stand you up on top of it. He would look up at you, his blood shot eyes creasing as he smiled.

“Your tall now.” He would amaze.

You would be forced to stand up there until you had enough of being tall, missing your regular height.

Sometimes these insecurities of yours will come out in bed, when the two of you are in the heat of the moment. His hands would rest upon your body and you couldn’t help but think about how much bigger he was than you, how small and insignificantly pathetic you were next to him.

He would praise you for the rest of the night, listing off different reasons why he liked your height, why he thought you were cute, the perfect size.

Usually he liked to be praised but he would make an exception for you.

Sometimes, as a mean tease, when you wanted to kiss him, he would refuse to bend down, forcing you to try and desperately reach his lips on your owns. This usually resulted with him being slapped on the arm. He would eventually give you the kiss, always whispering something about how cute you were when you were made.

In his eyes you were perfect, no matter how short you were.

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Thank you for reading and I’ll see you next time 🖤

Also, send me Brahms requests, please. I love my silly wall man but sometimes I find it hard to make stories about him. Help a person out :)

[eoieopda]

If you’re comfortable, could you write a a drabble about Jungkook and reader being in a relationship, where reader is self-conscious about her body in comparison to his? And even though she doesn’t think she’s pretty enough for him, he thinks she’s perfect as she is?

tw: body talk / body dysmorphia / negative self-image / reader doesn’t understand that she is capable of Hot Girl Shit™️ at any & every weight. Image below is Jungkook bewitched by reader’s mere existence. (will proofread later, am so sleppy)

UPDATE (12/27/22) Anon requested this drabble from Jungkook’s POV. Read it here.

It was irrational and you knew it.

Jungkook had seen you naked more times than you could count, but virtually none of those moments happened outside the context of sex. He’d seen you bare, sweating, splayed - and yet you felt so much more exposed by simply changing out of your work attire in his presence. Somehow, this kind of nudity felt different. More intimate. Vulnerable.

He wasn’t with you that morning when you had to jump to pull your trousers on, and you were thankful - because that’s something you hadn’t needed to do until recently. He didn’t witness your attempts to make yourself smaller just to close the two buttons at the apex of your high-waisted pants. He didn’t know how many times you twisted and turned in front of your full-length mirror; or see how your body looked different - unrecognizably so - with every new angle.

But he was with you now, and his upsettingly lean frame was stretched across your bed while he waited for you to finish. Steel-cut abdominals pressed flush against the comforter, sharp jaw propped up on the heel of his hand. Even through the fabric of his t-shirt, you could chart the topographic map of his shoulder muscles, and the decidedly unfair curves of his biceps. You couldn’t fathom it - how he had the audacity to look that good without even meaning to. He was gorgeous and it was offensive.

You, on the other hand, were not chiseled from marble. You’d felt bloated all day; and the only reason you hadn’t already ripped yourself free from your trousers was that you didn’t want Jungkook to notice the imprint your waistband likely made on the softness of your stomach. You knew he’d never point it out. He wouldn’t otherwise react in any way that might hurt your feelings. He was, above all, unfailingly kind.

That understanding didn’t quiet the tiny voice in your head, though. It kept whispering that the spell would break eventually, and he’d soon realize that the princess had always been a frog. And once he did, he’d find someone better matched - who wanted to be in the photo rather than take it. Someone that made sense standing next to him.

Quickly, you wriggled out of your trousers. Instead of bending down to grab them off the floor, you stayed upright - unfolded, comparatively smooth - and kicked them in the general direction of the nearby hamper. When you glanced back over at Jungkook, he was looking idly at you - but you didn’t get the impression that he was seeing you. Judging by the odd expression on his face, his mind had wandered far away and left his body behind with you.

After determining that he wasn’t paying much attention to you, your blouse came off in record time only to be flung somewhere in the vicinity of your trousers. One of his old hoodies - not as loose on you as it was on him - was tugged on before the conditioned air could find its way to your bare torso. Still, you shivered.

Then, at long last: sweatpants. Second only to Jungkook, the most successful, long-term relationship you’d ever had was with the shapeless, paint-stained, and faded sweatpants you’d stolen from him several years ago. A security blanket that accompanied you through four years of university, and the subsequent pursuit of your advanced degree. If it turned out that you couldn’t keep him, you were hellbent on keeping them.

Swallowed whole by your clothes, you sighed with relief. And then you saw the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. So he had been paying attention.

Ugh.

Without a word, he rolled over and flopped onto his back with his arms outstretched at his sides. Upside down now, his eyes trained on you and crinkled as he silently communicated his wishes. His smile widened when you obliged, shuffling to the side of the bed and slumping into his waiting arms.

In a fraction of a second, he rolled back over until he straddled you with knees bent on either side of your thighs. The sudden change in position caused you to gasp, which only prompted his grin to spread further. Leaning down, he cupped your face is his hands and peppered silly, speedy kisses over every plane of your face.

Your giggles flew out of you in droves as you tried and failed to withstand the tickle of his lips on your skin. They buzzed with his laughter, and the barrage continued until both of you were breathless and giddy. You stared at one another without speaking for several moments until:

“I have a question and I need you to answer honestly, okay?” He asked, suddenly serious. His brows furrowed as he chewed pensively on his bottom lip.

You swallowed, nodded, anticipated.

“How are you so perfect?”

His eyes narrowed as they assessed you; and you couldn’t find the punchline in them anywhere. There wasn’t a trace of jest in his expression. Instead, he looked as if he was seeking a dissertation on a topic of great importance. Like he was waiting on some scientific justification for a blue sky, or the Northern Lights. Puzzled - and puzzlingly genuine.

Your mouth opened without hesitation, but you had no response to offer. It closed in defeat just as quickly.

He reached down to grab your hand, and then placed a soft kiss over each knuckle as he spoke, “I just don’t get it. How does someone this beautiful just exist - walking around, day by day - like it’s no big deal?”

Reduced to a puddle, your bashful whine bubbled over and dragged out the syllables of his name with it. “Jungkook, what has gotten into you, baby?”

Before he answered with words, he leaned down and captured your lips with his. The awkward tension you’d stored in your muscles evaporated on impact, and it stayed gone, even when he pulled away to run his thumb over your cheek.

“Sudden, acute love sickness, I think,” He feigned a frown, then he kissed you again. “I hear it’s incurable.”

You leaned melodramatically into the palm resting against your cheek and gasped, “Oh, no! What can possibly be done to help you?”

He tapped his chin with his free hand and hummed; his forehead creased under heavy thought. “You’ll have to stay by my side for the rest of my life -“ He held up his hand to silence an objection you’d never make, “Doctor’s orders! And I think the occasional sponge bath would -“

“Jungkook!”

(A/N: Read Jungkook’s POV here.)

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Fire fire (hwanghyunjin)

"I've always liked to play with fire fire". Fire. If it wasn't for the fact that watching Hyunjin dance gave you the ultimate chills, fire would have been a very fitting word to evoke the burning sensation at the pit of your stomach.

Which you weren't sure was due to just the insane amount of passion and talent he was clearly displaying while running through the dance routine he self choreographed... Or the fact that Yeji was dancing with him. And you. Couldn't. Help. The. Jealousy. What a horrible horrible feeling jealousy is.

You hated it with a burning passion, the same passion you could clearly see in their dancing skills. They weren't even performing yet, just rehearsing at the dance studio, and yet their energy was impeccable, the control over their bodies astounding, they exuded talent. The routine was so intense and electric evrytime they locked eyes you felt just how complicit and in synch they were.

You almost felt like an intruder at some point, like you weren't supposed to be watching something so captivating, borderline intimate. You were so immensely proud of your boyfriend and in true, genuine awe of Yeji's skills, but you just couldn't shake the creeping vile thing tugging at your insides.

"Woah! That was awesome!", Hyunjin shouts, panting and sweating abundantly as he lurches forward to grab his water bottle and theatrically falls to the ground from the exhaustion, his arms and legs spreading apart so he's laying on the floor like a starfish. The song they had been playing on loop throughout rehearsals stops and you  swallow down the uneasiness in your throat: you clap enthusiastically as Yeji bows and giggles bashfully, her bright ginger hair falling messily out of her high ponytail.

She looks lovely, you think. She is beautiful and fit and knows how to move her body so well. "You did a great job, guys. Well done very well done", you say earnestly, as they both thank you and exchange a quick, friendly goodbye hug, "I sincerely apologise but I really got to blast, I have a schedule in less than 20 minutes. Thank you so much for today", Yeji frets adorably, she bows deeply again and then gathers her stuff as she waves you and Hyunjin goodbye, a foot already out the door.

Hyunjin grabs a clean trowel from a wicker basket in the corner and alternates dabbing down his face and his neck to big swigs of water as he slowly recollects and calms down. He sprawls out on the floor next to you, his chest rising and falling quickly as his hand crawls on your lap for you to take it. You smile weakly at him and slightly play with his fingers, now that you're alone with him and the studio is silent, the sound of your own thoughts begins to grow louder, you really have to concentrate to try not to let them prevail over your mouth.

"Is everything okay?". You avert your eyes from your lap where you've been keeping Hyunjin's hand, even though you had long stopped touching him, so caught up in your head you absent mindedly just left him hanging there, your fingers suspended mid air above his own. You nod slightly, not daring to meet his eyes even though you can feel him looking at you, from the corner of your eyes you see him sucking in his cheeks and pouting as he fixes his eyes on your face in either concentration or brooding.

Hyunjin's not one to push you. He will observe you from afar and wait for you to make the first move if you wish to, but he's not going to initiate anything, this much you know. And there were certain times where you appreciated this observing, conscious side of him. You liked how he knew how to read the signs and gave you ample space and time to simmer down in order to eventually approach him. This being one of the times you're glad he isn't pushing you, though his whole demeanor speaks for itself as he's clearly not happy at how you seem to have shut down completely.

To be fair you two hadn't been very talkative the whole morning even while driving to the studio, you knew he had been working so hard to come up with the choreography for Play With Fire, endless were the days where he left at 6 in the morning and came back home at 1am. You also knew he had been practicing with Yeji for the last few weeks. The slimy seed of jealousy had been growing and growing inside of you for days on end now.

"Okay... I'm gonna go over the routine a couple more times and then we can go. You don't have to sit through this again if you don't want to", Hyunjin says lowly, already walking towards the Bluetooth speaker so he can restart the song. Something about his tone sounds a little condescending but a little meek too, and it makes you tick.

You know he's stressed out and overworked and you know you're not acting your best right now but you can't help but feel a mixture of annoyance and hurt. He had asked you to come see him at practice, you didn't just invite yourself over. You had been hesitant too, at first, mostly cause you thought the dance floor was his sacred place and you weren't supposed to invade his space.

When you eventually found out he was going to practice the whole routine with Yeji you had even insisted you weren't so sure it was right for you to be here, possibly meddling with the chemistry and coordination the performance required of them. "I want to be here, Hyunjin. I wouldn't have come in the first place otherwise", you say softly, but he doesn't hear you.

The music booms through the speakers again and he goes back into full performer mode. Somehow managing to dance just as consistently as earlier, if not with even more decisiveness and impactfulness in his movements. All the while remaining gracious, moving fluidly.

Here's something you always admired about him: he moved like water. The definition of fluidity and grace, an undertone of something very dramatic and intentional in the way he contorted his body, in the way the look on his face always matched the vibe and intensity of the song he was dancing to. His body was the show itself, in a way. And you were hypnotized.

This time he ends the routine by dropping on his knees right in front of you, the last act of his performance where he's supposed to snap to his side and point his arms and fingers to Yeji now happening before you, mere inches away from you, his eyes intense and dark as his breathing is labored and his whole body is tense.

You, on the other hand, are awestruck, your eyes wide and dumbfounded at the unexpected ending: "you are really fucking hot for doing that you know?". Your mouth moves before you can even form any other coherent thought and you slap your hand over your mouth while Hyunjin quite literally falls to the floor in high pitched giggles, hands clapping, knees shaking and all.

The tension finally breaks between you two and you laugh just as loudly, shaking you head in disbelief at the words that just came out of your mouth just like that. You fall on your back and hold your stomach from the cramps while Hyunjin crawls over to you and pecks your lips, "thank you, I really needed that", he exclaims, still giggling a little, he pushes back his newly cut red hair, his hand running through the shortened ends out of habit, he presses his forearm to his forehead, trying to dry some of his sweat.

He looks so hot, you weren't lying. You close your eyes and breath out the last of your laughter, your hand reaching for his, this time playing with his fingers with more intention to it, "I'm sorry for being so sulky, I promise I loved seeing you practice", you confess, "you sat through the same routine for over 4 hours, even if you didn't love it anymore, I would have understood that", he replies, his breathing still uneven and fast, "was there any reason for your being sulky? I thought you were mad at me", he adds after taking a swig if his water.

You open your eyes now, forced with the reality of having to fully confess. You pull yourself up a little and bury your face in your hands, "I feel terrible. I was never mad at you I'm just.....", you sigh and drag your hands down your cheeks in an exasperated manner, "I guess seeing you and Yeji dance like that made me feel... Jealous".

The cat's out of the bag and if for a brief second you felt even the tiniest but if relief in telling him, it's immediately followed by the most unnerving frustration at your own self, shame filling you right up.Hyunjin pries your hands away from your face and looks at you with fond eyes. Which is unexpected to say the least.

"Jagi...", he murmurs softly, cupping your cheek in his palm, "you're jealous of Yeji? For real?", he asks patiently, "It's so stupid I know, you guys are both so talented and so professional and you barely even touch while dancing and Yeji is so so lovely and sweet and I feel like a complete idiot". You didn't even mean to cry but fresh teardrops spill out of your eyes regardless. You feel horrible. On the other hand Hyunjin seems touched, sad for you even.

He gently kisses your tear stained cheeks as he tucks your hair behind your ears so they don't stick to your face, "it's not stupid and you're not an idiot. You just care, a lot. I'm sorry you felt like that, me and Yeji go back years and years. We were trainees together, me and Chan hyung used to hang out with her and Ryujin back in the day. As friends, just as friends. She's like a little sister to me".

You nod slightly, reaching for his hands so you can press soft kisses to his wrists and knuckles, "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I trust you, I really do. I just got too invested with how sexy the performance is", you mumble in between sobs, Hyunjin grins at you and coos, "it's okay y/n, it's okay", he slowly guides you down onto the floor, he hovers above your body and ever so gently distributes his weight on top of you.

He kisses your jaw and your neck, cushiony lips pressing on your throat, his damp hair tickles your chin and your faint sobbing mixes with the soft hiccups of your stifled laughs, "see... that's better, jagi, so much better", he murmurs.His heartbeat quickens against your ribcage, kisses become sloppier and hungrier, hands roam underneath your shirt.

Your limbs become tangled in a matter of few minutes, your pants are off, his breath is hot on you, your fingers knotting his hair. Fire. Chills. Fire again. You're burning up with lust now. Whatever trace of sadness and jealousy leaving your soul with every item of clothing that gets removed from your body.

"Hyunj-Hyune... uh" , you hiss as his teeth sink into an especially tender spot on the side of your neck, "what if-uh what if someone walks in?", you manage to ask, pulling at the last fragment of sanity left in you when Hyunjin rolls his hips into you, "door's locked", he replies hastily as he pulls down both his pants and his boxers at once to then reprise his kisses on your very swollen very red mouth, "the place is rented for another hour and half".

It has most definitely been over an hour and half but nobody has come knocking at the door. You and Hyunjin are still laying on the floor, still tagled, still breathless. The heavenly weight of his body and the feeling of him still inside of you are enough to keep you high and exhilarated long after your climax.

You kiss his cheek repeatedly as he pants, hiding in the crook of your neck. "Thank you", you mumble underneath your breath and Hyunjin lifts his head up just a bit, looking at you confusedly in his hazy, messy, wonderful state, "what are you thanking me for? For making love to you?", you giggle and peck his lips, "everything. Just everything. You certainly know how to love me good, really good".  Hyunjin smiles contentedly and readjusts himself right back into you, "no need to thank me. Especially when I'm inside you. There's nothing I won't do for you".

[hiskillingjar]

sick little games

Relationship(s): Strade/Reader, Ren/Reader, Lawrence/Reader, Strade/Ren, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Coercion, Extremely Dubious Consent, Leather, Sexual Roleplay, Sweat, Armpit Kink, Boot Worship, Blood and Injury, Chastity, Gore, Amputation, Praise, Humiliation, Daddy Kink, Teratophilia, Monster Fucking, Master/Slave, Latex, Costumes, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesome, Oral Sex, Shotgunning, Drug Use, Menophilia, Period Blood, Body Modification, Piercings, Exhibitionism, Watersports, Gags, Lingerie, Panties, Bondage, Emetophilia, Vomiting, Collars, Overstimulation, Vibrators, Breathplay, Asphyxiation Length: Multi-chaptered, 33,000+ words

Summary: [Last update: Breathplay] A collection of one-shots based around Kinktober prompts.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50629204

Leather and Latex (Strade/MC)

"Ah, look at you, little punk rocker."

You instantly stilled as Strade opened the door of your (his) room, your hands freezing at the zip of the leather skirt that was pulled tightly around your hips. In the months of being his captive, wearing and re-wearing your old clothes and borrowing some of his when you had to, you would have never been so bold as to ask Strade for clothes like this, but…you were pleasantly surprised when it had turned up with an order he'd done for you (no doubt with a bit of Ren's assistance, though).

That didn't stop you from being incredibly self-conscious when he walked in and saw you wearing something so daring though.

"Punk rocker?" You said, doing your best not to flinch at the sound of his voice, glancing towards him as he idled in the doorway of your (his) room, his arms crossed, your hands freezing at your sides and unwilling to move. "D-Do I look punk rock to you?" You then asked with an attempt at a smile, despite how nervous you now felt.

"Mm," Strade hummed as his smile grew, stepping forward and placing a hand on your hip, feeling the tight leather against his skin, the teeth of the silver zip. "Very punk rock. I like it." He dug his fingers a little harder against your soft hip, pulling you in a little closer. "What's the occasion? Trying to sneak into Berghain or something?"

You swallowed, a look of quiet confusion on your face (like he was telling a joke you didn't understand) as your hands stayed still.

"Do you always get this nervous around me?" Strade laughed and his golden eyes glittered with unique cruelty, sadistically amused, like a schoolboy pulling at a bug's wings, watching you with thinly veiled excitement as you grew more and more nervous at his presence. "Or are you just being modest, hm?"

"I'm not, mmf-!" You let out a little squeak as he gave the zip of the skirt a good yank, pulling it shut and pulling the leather even tighter around your arse. 

The skirt is maybe a size too small for you, squeezing in all of the right (or wrong, if you were being honest) places, and it's enough to make your legs tremble as he bracketed your hips with his hands, pressing you against the edge of the bed. 

"You know that your modesty is no good here, fraulein," He teased softly with a little chuckle, leaning forward to press his lips to your neck, his teeth smiling into your skin. "Especially when your body looks this good trussed up in leather. Not like I'm surprised, of course," He then pressed you down into the bed, the hem of the skirt shifting upwards and exposing your soft, scarred thighs. "You'd look good trussed up anything~"

You took in a sharp little gasp as he nipped your neck playfully, reaching up to press your hands to his chest, an attempt to push him away when all you wanted to do was pull him forward, let him take you as he wanted.

There was a predatory gleam in Strade's eyes, as there often was with you, with his prey, as he observed how the tight-fitting material hugged your soft curves, the skirt clinging and creaking as it rosee even higher up your hips and thighs.

A slow and salacious smile spread across his lips as he placed a hand on one of your scars and let it drift upwards to the exposed hem of your panties.

"So tight..." He purred softly, dragging the bridge of his nose against your jaw. "That makes one thing of yours tight, huh?"

Your face flushed bright red at how crudely he spoke to you, and your obvious embarrassment made him grin and laugh heartily as he pushed you down to the bed and leered above you, his golden eyes growing ever more excited.

"You really need to stop being so reactive, fraulein." He said, still laughing as he placed a knee on one side of your hips, the mattress dipping beneath the two of you. "It makes you too much fun to play with and tease.

Roleplay (Ren/MC)

"I think when couples talk about roleplaying in the bedroom, they have other ideas in mind."

Your voice was flat and monotone as you crossed your arms and gave Ren a somewhat irritated look, looking down at the ridiculous cosplay outfit he had somehow managed to get you dressed up in. 

It was the typical sort of thing he liked, a short skirt with ruffle after ruffle of tulle bunched up underneath and grazing your thighs, thigh-high socks with lacy bands that bit into your soft flesh, long gloves, and plenty of bows to make you feel that much more ridiculous. You didn't understand what anime he was trying to reference with the outfit, if he was referencing one at all, nor would you care to understand if he tried to explain.

"I don't even know what role I'm supposed to be playing." You continued, idly pulling at the bow at the center of your chest and eyeing him as he beamed across the room, looking pleased as punch. "Am I a schoolgirl or something?"

"I mean, not exactly," He said with a grin, standing forward and pacing to your side, his tail idly swishing behind him. "You're, like, a part-time schoolgirl and a part-time magical girl, defending the world from aliens and overlords, and that kind of thing."

"Right," You replied, looking over at him with a raised brow. You had thought he'd be more creative than just having a schoolgirl fantasy. "And that's sexy to you?"

"It's very sexy to me," He replied with a little chuckle, his cheeks flushing a healthy pink as he continued to pace around you, circling you, a sweet-faced predator assessing their stoic prey. He was deceptive in that way, masking his darker and more violent desires with dweebish sweetness. It was as scary as it was intriguing. "But, ah, this character is even better, because she has a love interest that she's obsessed with, like, scary obsessed. It makes her that much more cuter to me."

"Mm, I can guess why," You mumbled, your own cheeks flushing a little as he continued to pace around you. "You like when someone is scary obsessed?"

"Can you blame me?" He said with a slightly sardonic smile, before stopping in front of you and taking a step closer. He was a lot shorter than you, but that never stopped you from getting a little nervous around him. "The rest of the stuff doesn't matter that much, but...you know. I want you to play that role."

You let out a little huff through your nose and peered down at him through half-lidded eyes. It would be up to him how he interprets that gaze.

"You want me to be the obsessive one for a change, huh?" You asked softly, not minding completely when he reached out and rubbed the tulle of your skirt with his thumb and forefinger.

"Maybe just for tonight," He murmured back, his own eyes softening with poorly concealed lust, his tail idly wagging behind him. Always so obvious with what he wanted, you could only hope that you weren't that obvious yourself. “Maybe I’d like to understand how it feels too. For someone to be obsessed with you,” His words were soft as his touch reached up your skirt and over the bodice of the costume. "Is that a bad thing for me to want?"

"No," You mumbled back, gently taking his wrists in each hand and pushing them down to his front. "That's not a bad thing for you to want. I just need to figure out how to do it, I guess..."

"Don't think about it too hard," He replied softly, leaning in close and dragging his lips over yours, plush and full. "Just do what feels right. Do what feels natural."

You let out a shaky little sigh, still holding on tightly to his wrists, his delicate little wrists, his pale skin, his dark veins that stood out so harshly, as he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, another to your chin, another to your jaw. 

Always so obvious about what he wanted.

"I...I saw you talking to other girls at school today," You stammered slightly, your voice uncharacteristically soft and sweet sounding, enough that it made Ren pause and look at you, his eyes wide and excited, evidently pleased to be getting what he wanted. "I wasn't following you or anything...I just saw-"

"It was-" He cut you off, trying to hide just how excited he still was at this idea, that you were playing along with his fantasy. "I  had a few questions about the homework we have, that's all, I swear."

"You could have asked me," You replied quickly, an exaggerated pout to your lips, trying to get into the headspace of this kind of character...well, kind of person that Ren wanted you to be. You couldn't help but imagine how he would have reacted in a situation like this, and channel it into what you were saying yourself. "You know I'm always looking out for you, more than anyone. You know that I would do anything for you, right?"

"I know," He mumbled, his cheeks flushing a little darker as you held his wrists even tighter, digging your nails into his skin. "I didn't mean to upset you...I really didn't, I swear."

"But you did," You replied then, your gaze growing a little darker as you leaned in close to him, so close that you could feel his quick little breaths against your skin, the heat from his cheeks against your own. "And if you upset me again, I won't have any choice but to...to hurt any girl you talk to. You'll have forced me into it." 

You spoke so softly that you wondered if he had trouble hearing you, but when his ears twitched forward and his tail started to wag more rapidly, you knew that he had heard you loud and clear.

"You...y-you don't have to do that," He stammered, doing his best to play his own role of a helpless boyfriend, though he couldn't hide his excitement or obvious arousal (since the front of his jeans were already straining), no matter how much he tried to. "I really don't have eyes for anyone but you, don't you believe me?"

"Not at all," You said with a sweet smile, keening in even closer and forcing him to step backward, his butt hitting his desk. "I don't believe you at all, but that's okay...I'll just have to make sure that no girls ever talk to you again...since you only have eyes for me."

"Oh god," He took in a shaky breath, tilting his chin upwards a touch as you dragged your lips down his neck, kissing, nipping, leaving behind little bites. He reached upwards to press his hands to your chest, your own hands still around his wrists, and gripped the bows stitched to the bodice of your outfit, pulling you in even closer, the bulge in his jeans rubbing against your thigh. "Mm...please don't hurt anyone, please..."

"I won't have to if you stay with me, love," You purred then, a hidden smile on your face as you kissed his collarbone, dragging your teeth over his skin and listening to him whine and flinch. "I love you more than anything, Ren...and I'll gladly kill to keep the one I love with me, always..."

Sweat (Lawrence/MC)

Lawrence let out a soft, little sigh as you pressed your chest against their back, your hands reaching around and pressing up the front of their jacket (the branded fleece from the warehouse which matched their sweatpants), under their shirt. 

When you pressed your face into their shoulder, their long hair tickling your cheek as you did, they smelled of musk and soaked in sweat, heady and masculine, with the underlying scent of plant matter and fresh soil clinging onto them, as it always did. It was addictive and you pressed harder against them, their hips pressing into their kitchen counter as their body went rigid and tight.

"Mm," They moaned very softly, very quietly, their head going forward and their hands (big hands, bigger than yours) reaching up to feel where you're pushing up their shirt. "I-I should go shower...I've just come back from work." They shivered a little, a slight hitch to their voice as you ran your fingers over one of their nipples. "I'm all sweaty..."

"That's okay. I like it like that." Your tone was playful, teasing almost, yet your words betrayed an underlying lust and want for Lawrence's body as you leaned in closer again, now breathing into Lawrence's ear. "I like it when you're all sweaty and gross for me. It turns me on."

Lawrence moaned again as your lips trailed down behind their ear, down their neck, your lust and hunger growing too great to even try and suppress. When you ran your tongue down the side of their neck, down to the wide collar of their shirt and their exposed collarbone, you could taste the traces of salt and sweat, and it was enough to make you moan and want even more. 

"Let me worship you," You mumbled, your voice thick with lusting and want as you squeezed the soft flesh of their chest and dragged your hips against their arse. "Be mine, baby..."

"Ahh..." Lawrence groaned softly, low at the back of their throat, as you urged them to face you, your hands on their hips and pressing them back against the kitchen counter. Their sweet face was flushed and their eyes were hazy and lustful, despite how much they were shaking and trembling. "Yeah. I'm yours."

You smiled softly and leaned in to meet Lawrence's lips with your own, your free hand reaching up to cup their stubbly cheek and pulling them down to deepen the kiss, your tongue running over their chapped lips and pressing into their whimpering mouth. 

Your other hand occupied itself with peeling off their jacket, pushing it down their shoulders and their arms, before pushing their shirt up their long, trembling torso, exposing their skinny, pale form, slightly damp with a sheen of sweat.

"Let me taste you," You whispered, pulling back from the kiss (just barely, your lips still dragging over theirs) before you started to kiss along their collar, down their sternum, down towards their chest. "Let me taste your body."

"Ahhn," Lawrence groaned again, their hazy eyes squeezing shut as you dragged your tongue over their chest, barely tracing over a pert nipple before you gently pushed their shirt up even further, exposing their armpits, dusted lightly with blonde hair, and forcing their arms above their head. "Mph..."

"Be good," You mumbled softly, before pressing an experimental kiss to Lawrence's pale clavicle, keeping both hands on their hips, keeping them still. "Stay still and let me enjoy you."

When you were this close, the smell of sweat was even stronger, tangy and a little sour, potent after a long day of hard work, and it made your head spin a little, in the very best way. 

"D-Don't," Lawrence mumbled softly, their soft lips trembling, their eyes squeezing shut as their face flushed even darker in embarrassment. "Please don't..." 

You didn't say anything as you leaned down a little more and pressed a kiss to the deepest groove of their armpit, your nose nestling against the slightly damp hairs, breathing in the thick smell of their sweat. You couldn't resist a deep moan as you buried yourself more against their skin and dragged your tongue over them, tasting them, tasting the thick scent, the sour, salty taste of their sweat. 

"Fuuuck..." Lawrence drawled out with a desperate whimper, their body trembling, and when you peered towards their face, you could see that their face was that much more flushed and they were biting their lip. When you took one hand off their shaking hips and let it run over the bulge in their sweatpants, you felt how hard they were, in spite of their embarrassment (or maybe because of it). 

"God, you make me crazy," You mumbled softly, your voice thick with lust as you delved your tongue back against their armpit, moaning in pleasure as it worked its way against the sweaty and warm flesh hidden from the world, squeezing their hard cock and relishing in the hitched gasps they let out at the pressure and grip of your fist. "You smell so fucking good."

Lawrence bit their lip again, their hips keening forward as you slid a hand into their sweatpants, feeling the aching length of their cock practically tenting the fabric of their boxers. The quiet sounds of pleasure they let out were enough to spur you on to indulge even further, the taste and the smell of their armpit almost intoxicating as you sucked on the skin, the wide span of your tongue taking in every morsel of their sweat-slicked skin.

"I can only dream of how your cock smells right now, baby," You mumbled hotly, breathing heavily against Lawrence's tight bicep, your nose still nestled against their pit. "Want me to find out?"

"Mmhmm," Lawrence mumbled with a shy nod of their head, still squeezing their eyes shut and keening their hips forward, pressing their cock into the tight grip of your fist, biting their lip hard. "Please..."

You smiled and pressed one last kiss against the grove of their armpit, indulgently drinking in the flavor and the smell of their body. You were totally lost in that moment, lost in Lawrence and lost in his own intense pleasure. 

All you could hear was Lawrence's desperate moans and your own ragged breath.

"Good girl.”

Boot Worship (Strade/MC)

"Come on now, you know what the camera wants to see."

Strade's voice was a low purr as he stepped in front of you, taking the recording camera off of its tripod and moving the blinking red light, the uncaring and cold gaze of the lens, in front of your bruised and bloody face.

You swallowed a mixture of blood and mucus, pulling at your bound wrists in a weak attempt to cradle your very recently broken nose and cower away from him and his camera, though to no avail. The tight bondage bit into your skin and burned your wrists the more you pulled, adding more and more to the throbbing pain that was permeating through your body.

"How cute," He chuckled unkindly, reaching forward to grab your jaw and pull it closer to the camera, giving the unseen audience a good look at your mangled face. "Ah, though maybe not so cute now, hm? Now that little nose is all broken and bloody." He idly tapped a gloved finger against the broken bone, making you immediately whine in pain and jerk your chin upwards to get away from his grip. "Aw, don't worry, liebling. The chat still thinks you're as cute as a button."

He set the camera back on its tripod and adjusted the lens of the camera down to the concrete floor, which was now dotted with the dripping blood from your nose. He then stood back in front of you, his golden eyes dangerously amused and his brows quirking slightly, the only visible indication of his pleased expression when the mask was in the way. 

"You've made a mess," He said with a tilt of his head, idly gesturing to where you were still bleeding. "You better clean it up."

"Huh?" You stammered softly, looking up to meet his eyes with your own frightened expression. "C-Clean it up?"

"You heard me," He replied, his tone a little more terse and stern than it was. "Don't pretend to be dumber than you are, fraulein, it doesn't suit you."

Despite how much pain you were in, despite the streaming blood from your nose, the ropes biting into your wrists, and the bruises, cuts, and grazes that made your half-naked body ache and shiver, you couldn't stop a light flush coming to your cheeks when he referred to you with such intimate pet names. 

It wasn't fair that he could get you trembling with fear and trembling with want with one word if he tried to.

None of this was fair.

"Clean. It. Up." He finally said again, his voice low and authoritative, with another gesture towards the spots of blood under his feet. "You know how."

You swallowed down the mixture of blood and mucus again before you nodded hesitantly and lowered your head down to the floor the best you could, your muscles tensing and tight to hold your upper body up while your arms were still bound. 

Slowly, and without another word from him, you began to drag your tongue over the floor, the coppery taste of your own blood and grime from the cement mingling on your taste buds. You could feel yourself trembling from not only the pain and discomfort but also the humiliation of having to clean up the mess that you had made. 

You could only guess how the chat was responding to such an embarrassing act of submission.

"Oh, would you look at that?" He said casually, before teasingly pressing the tip of his shoe against your cheek and jerking your attention back up and towards him and the camera. "You've got your mess all over my boot too. Guess you'll have to clean that as well, while you're down there."

You squeaked quietly when he nudged you again but quickly did as you were told, running your tongue along the dirty rubber sole of his boot as he held it in front of your face. You knew that you must have been tasting wherever he had been that day, dirt and gravel and god knows what else, but you didn't care.

All you cared about was cleaning up your mess and looking good for the camera while you did it. All you cared about was pleasing him.

"There we go," Strade drawled, his eyes softening above his mask as he watched you indulgently. "Such a good little dog under my feet. Make sure you clean the rest too, don't forget."

You didn't forget, and he didn't need to remind you as you obediently raised your chin a little to run your tongue over the tip of his boot, tasting the musky old leather and suppressing a moan as you licked up and down, cleaning and recleaning the dripping blood from your nose, all the while panting and whimpering against the boot as you did so. 

Your spit was thick with blood as it drooled across his boot, making the old leather shine like it was brand new and polished to a luxurious sheen.

"Getting excited, hm?" He then asked, his voice sounding a little ragged as he reached forward to pull at the back of your panties, forcing a little shriek from your lips, muffled by leather, as the gusset was pulled tight against your wet cunt. "It would be nice to have a camera behind you, so I could see that wet spot growing in your panties, fraulein. So I could see how much you wanted me, even while I do things like this to you."

You whimpered again against the leather, but made no movement to stop your worship at his feet as he kept pulling at your panties, listening to each one of your muffled shrieks and watching your bent body tremble and spasm with pleasure. 

"You'll have to make sure that you've cleaned all the blood off, or we'll just have to keep this going on and on," He continued, though, from the way he said it, he didn't see much of a problem in the idea. "So, let's be sure that they're spotless, ja?"

Chastity (Ren/MC)

You couldn't hold back a little squeak as Ren locked the heavy-duty chastity belt around your hips and between your legs, the soft click of the first padlock being threaded through the metal loop that rested atop your belly being enough to make you tremble even more than you already were.

You had behaved badly, or at least, he thought you had behaved badly enough to be kept like this for a while.

The length of time was up to him, naturally, and he hadn't made a decision about it yet. 

He was happy enough just locking up the padlocks and watching you tremble and shiver, it seemed, as he stayed on his knees in front of you, focusing intently on his task.

"How long are you going to keep this on?" You asked softly with a little pout, looking down at the young man, his tail wagging gleefully behind him, as he locked the second padlock between your legs (but not before pressing the cold metal toy attached to it up inside you first, keeping you full).

"Oh, you know. However long I feel like, really." Ren replied with an innocent smile, taking both of the keys to the locks and theading them on a ball chain he fished from his shirt pocket. "It could be days. Or weeks, or months. Who knows!" He let out a laugh then, raising his brows beneath his bangs and standing up to his feet as his ears tilted forward with excited anticipation. "Maybe I'll keep it on forever."

Your eyes went wide and scared at his playful threat, which only encouraged him to step closer towards you, his innocent smile fading into a sharp grin on his face and his tail wagging even more rapidly.

"Wouldn't that be something?" He continued, bracketing his hands on the metal bands at your hips as his tail wound around your bare legs, soft and teasing. “Keeping you full and desperate for release, forever and ever, without any hope of rescue?” He let out a giddy little breath. “Just saying it is getting me hot.” 

"W-Well, why would you do something like that?" You stammered softly, biting your lip as he continued to idly fiddle with the padlock of the belt, his eyes drifting down to the thick metal waistband digging into your soft flesh, marking your skin. You could already feel that it was going to leave a stark imprint behind. "If I'm all...belted up, forever, you wouldn't get to-"

"I wouldn't get to fuck you?" He finished for you with another little chuckle, keening up (on his tiptoes) to press a kiss, a teasing bite to your jaw, digging his fingers around the metal band and pulling your hips close to his. You could already feel how hard he was getting through his jeans. He wasn’t kidding around then. "No, that's true. I wouldn't get to do that...but honestly, I think it'll be worth it to keep you so wound up and desperate all the time." He chuckled again, and ran his nose against your neck, scenting you. " I think it'll be worth it, anyway. And that’s kind of all that matters, hm?"

"But...mph," You let out a soft groan from the back of your throat as he continued to rut his hips against yours, looking for whatever stimulation he could against the hard metal despite how much he was insisting otherwise. "Why?"

"Because I want to," He said, his voice a touch softer, watching with half-lidded eyes as your own flitted to the side, trying to avoid his hungry gaze as he continued to toy with the padlock. "Because I can. Even knowing that you're unable to play with yourself right now and feeling your frustration is enough for me."

Your cheeks flushed a little (a lot) darker as he brought his face close to yours with a salacious smile, licking his fangs indulgently like a fox would as he took in your embarrassed expression.

"And...what if I beg for you to take it off?" You asked, peering back towards him, your face growing more flush as you noticed him string the ball chain around his neck, the keys to your padlocks shining against his chest. 

"Well, it'll be up to me to decide if you deserve it," He replied, the sharpness in his grin settling into a cruel smirk as he keened up again to kiss your neck one last time. "And I'm pretty tough to convince...especially when I want something as badly as this."

Gore (Strade/MC)

When your eyes finally opened, the first thing that hit you was the smell.

The air in the basement was thick with the putrid smell of blood and gore, grime and rust. Enough to make you retch, though all you managed to puke up was a foul splatter of burning stomach bile as your body hunched over the best it could. 

That, of course, only added to the disgusting smells that surrounded you already.

It added to the twisting pain in your body, added to the burning at the back of your throat.

It felt like hell.

Like you had traveled so deep into the inferno, delved into the darkest corners of your own psyche, that you were past the point of any kind of return, too far gone to even try and save.

Your head lolled back against the support beam you were tied to, vomit streaked down your chin and your eyes were hazy and dazed.

"Hmph. You're not gonna last like that," Strade said as he turned off the recording camera, tugging down the scarf that concealed his face when he was streaming before standing above you, his hands on his hips. "You might even need to see a doctor. That looks pretty gruesome, buddy!"

The pain was the second thing that hit you.

Immeasurable pain, pain that you couldn't even hope to fathom before all of this happened, before that first night in this fucking basement and the countless nights that came after it. 

It was like a deep ache, harsh and burning, that shook you to your very core, making you yank at your bondage in an attempt to cover your bile-stained lips, just so you wouldn't hear the wreaked sob you let out when you could finally feel it.

But you couldn't, so you were left to sob openly, hiccuping little breaths and desperate gasps that didn't convey even a fraction of how badly you were hurting, how badly every nerve and synapse in your body was burning and screaming.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, snot and drool were dripping onto your shaking chest, half-naked and bloody in its own right, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as your body spasmed and twitched, desperately trying to will the pain to go away, even just a little.

The jug of hydrofluoric acid loomed dangerously in your vision, placed on the wooden bench like it was there to taunt and tease you.

You spasmed again with a miserable whimper when you felt another drip of the liquid pool down your knee and eat into your already melting skin.

"The camera might have liked it, but I really can't have you staying like this," He continued with a light click of his tongue, wiping his hands off on his trousers and taking another step closer to you, crouching down to one knee to inspect the damage and running the tip of his finger along one of the worst acid burns, watching you flinch and squirm. "You'll go into shock, and, well," He let out a little chuckle. "We can't have that, can we?"

He tilted his head with a mock sympathetic look, though he looked completely unbothered by your pain. 

"Hurt, doesn't it?" He asked, his voice low and lilting as he tilted his head towards you, one of his dark brows raised in an idle question. "I know, I know." He laughed and waved one of his hands, showing off a few acid burns on his fingers, indicating a messy past, maybe a few mistakes he'd made with victims like you. "Trust me, I know."

Though, there weren't victims like you. Not really. Not that he had kept for such a long time.

"Mind if I take a look?" He then asked with a little shrug of his shoulders, though he didn't wait for a reply before he wrapped a hand around your ankle and wrenched your mangled leg out straight, hard and fast. 

You let out a pained shriek as he did so, pressing your other knee up to your vomit-slicked chest as he inspected it critically, his golden eyes scanning over each bloody, burned patch of flesh and melted skin. 

"W-What are you going t-to do?" You stammered, your voice meek and pathetic, each word wavering and your body spasming.

"Relax, fraulein," He replied, his voice surprisingly calm and authoritative, so relaxed himself that it was a tad bit disconcerting. "I'm just gonna have a look, that's all."

Your jaw trembled at the still thrumming pain as he continued to stare down, your eyes flitting shut as you let out a soft moan of subdued agony. You could feel your head getting heavy and fuzzed, and you wondered if you might lose consciousness soon from the pain of the acid burn.

Without even looking at him, you know the sight of your pain is amusing Strade. 

"You're in quite a bit of pain, eh?" He asked, a dark smile evident in his voice while he took a longer moment to observe the extent of your leg's injuries. 

Despite your attempts to fight it, your body is unable to suppress the pain and you moan loudly again.

"I know what to do...don't you fret."

Before you could even notice his hand moving from your ankle, or hear the sound of him crossing the basement floor, you felt the ragged teeth of a bone saw almost immediately cut through the burned skin and into the meat of your lower thigh.

Your eyes shot wide and bloodshot with terror and you screamed, oh, how you screamed, louder than you ever had before, like a dying animal, and tried desperately hard to lurch back, away from him. But your binds around the basement's support beam, and the grip he had on your ankle, pulled out straight once again, was stronger than a vice. 

He barely seemed bothered at all as you thrashed and bucked beneath him. 

He was just humming to himself, like this was an everyday activity for him (and maybe it was). That sadistic smirk on his face remained, despite everything.

Rivulets of blood ran from the jagged gash and down your melted skin and coagulated flesh, leaving a steadily growing puddle on the cement floor.

So much blood.

So much fucking blood.

You couldn't stop screaming, and yet he barely reacted, sparing only a glance towards your face, seemingly reveling in your torture. The sound of your screams and the sight of your visible injuries excited him more than anything, after all, a fact you had come to learn in the time you'd come to know him.

His total disinterest in your pain, your agony, made you sob even harder, tears stinging the various cuts and scrapes on your cheeks, smearing blood, snot, and bile further down your face, your chin, your spasming chest. You could hear yourself begging, pleading, stop, stop, please, I'll do whatever you want, just PLEASE-! but the voice barely sounded human, let alone sounded like your own.

It felt like dying.

In a way, you would have preferred if you had died.

You wouldn't have to live like this, live through whatever was in store for you, live with the knowledge that you had practically handed yourself to him on a silver platter.

You didn't even want to imagine.

Through your sobs, you managed to vomit down your front again from the sheer pain and disgust that was rushing through you, and it hurt even more than last time. It made you cry just a little bit harder as you jerked your head up to the basement ceiling, wide, frightened eyes fixing on the swinging lightbulb above your head, desperate not to look.

Praying to a God who had long abandoned you.

The saw ripped through your bone with a sickening crunch which sent an electric shock of white-hot agony through your spine and up to the base of your skull.

Screaming would surely do nothing to deter him, but you can't help but keep trying.

You couldn't pull away though. 

He was too strong and your body already felt like it was going to give out just from moving for even a second. Any hope that you might have had drained out of you almost as quickly as your blood drained, and you felt your head get heavier and heavier, on the precipice of consciousnesses as he persisted with his gruesome task.

Maybe fainting would have been better. You wouldn't have to see any of this, listen to his idle humming, listen to the sound of the blade through your leg.

But you'd have to wake up. And what to?

You wanted so desperately to die.

He only had to give the dangling limb a good pull before the last shred of skin snapped and your leg fell to the scum-spotted cement floor with a deafening thud.

You couldn't scream, though you desperately wanted to.

You could only lay your head back against the support beam and silently weep, your mind practically dead behind your eyes and your lips parted with spasming little whimpers, as he sat the bone saw down and yanked the belt from the waistband of his trousers to wrap around your now bleeding stump of a leg, a poor man's tourniquet to stop the bleeding for a little while. 

His nostrils flared a little and he scrunched his nose at the smell. You had pissed yourself in the midst of this, which only added to the foray of foul smells in the basement. 

“Scheiße,” He muttered softly to himself as he pulled the belt a notch or two tighter, before murmuring something else in German that you didn’t understand.

Your stomach twisted tight again. 

"Ren!" He shouted over his shoulder as he stood to his feet, his hands on his hips again. "I'm gonna need your help down here, bud, come quick."

Praise (Lawrence/MC)

"Would you...is it okay if I touch you?" Lawrence asked tentatively, looking up to meet your eyes with their own, pale grey and doe-like in their pseudo-innocence. They were very careful to not move toward you at all when they asked the question, giving you the space that you needed to reciprocate.

Granted, you were tied to a chair and they were standing tall over you, but at least they had the decency to look uncomfortable about the situation.

"T-Touch me?" You repeated with a little stammer, your pallid, sweaty face giving away your hesitance.

You swallowed hard as the two of you stared at each other for a moment, but you didn't pull back as they took a cautious step closer to you, entered your space, and idly stroked through the long, sweaty hair trailing down your shoulders, their body close to yours, their smell sickly sweet and musky, like plant matter, like rot.

Watching intently, noticing that you weren't moving back or trying to pull away, Lawrence continued to gently brush the hair back from your face, a small smile coming across their pretty features as they admired you, their head tilting to the side, just a touch. You noticed that they were still being very careful not to move too near to you, though now that you thought about it...

You couldn't help but notice just how close together you were sitting together, their knee gently rubbing against yours as their touch drifted upwards, their bony knuckle grazing your flushed cheek.

"Is this okay?" Lawrence asked, still keeping their voice as steady and gentle as they could, despite how much they were shaking, like they were scared of scaring you, scared of breaking you.

"Yeah," You murmured softly as their fingers grazed your neck and pressed into your hair, cupping against your scalp, making you gulp and your wrists flex and tremble where they were bound to the chair. "It's okay."

They let out a soft hum of pleasure as you raised your chin, just a little, letting them continue the gentle petting through your hair. 

"Your hair is so soft," Lawrence mumbled softly, their doe eyes softening just a touch as they watched the way you keened into their touch, your fingers relaxing at the arms of the chair, despite how tight the tape was still binding you. "And...so pretty. Just like you are."

You blinked curiously up at them as they placed their other hand on your knee, leaning into your space even more, their cold, stubble-dotted cheek inches from yours. Yet, they were leaning into you in such a way that suggested that they were rubbing against you, scenting you like an animal.

"You're beautiful," They murmured even quieter, their fingers drifting higher up your knee, running over the ladders in your tights and to the warmth of your inner thigh. "And...so good for me. So good, letting me touch you, not being scared of me, not making any noise..."

You couldn't hold back a tiny whimper as their knuckle grazed the hem of your skirt, still stroking your hair. 

You weren't sure what Lawrence's intentions were just yet, but even though you had a sense that they weren't dangerous intentions, you still had a feeling that they might have been a little...unstable.

You thought it best to play along, while you still had the option to.

"Thank you for being so good," They continued, their voice still hushed as they pressed a little closer, running the bridge of their nose over your jaw, chapped lips running along your neck. "You've made this so, so much easier for me..."

You nodded a little hesitantly, biting your lip and keeping quiet while your eyes flitted down to their hand drifting further and further up your thigh, the duct tape wrapped tightly around your wrists.

You were still their prisoner, however well you were behaving.

Humiliation (Strade/MC)

“Come on now, moan for me. Moan for Daddy~”

With just one word, you were yanked forcefully out of your haze of masochistic submission, your eyes wide and your expression as close to disgust as you could manage.

"Did you just-" You muttered, your brows furrowing as you stared up at him. "Oh my god, you cannot be serious," You said with a grimace, cringing more from his words than what he was actually doing to your body. 

"Ahh, I can't resist," He said with a bright laugh, a shrug of his shoulders as he raised the knife from your thigh for just a moment, a faint cut left behind on your skin, barely even bleeding yet. Almost nothing compared to what you were usually used to. "You just look so uncomfortable when I say it. It's adorable, really!" He grinned again. "You really shouldn't be so reactive, fräulein , it makes you soooo easy to tease and wind up."

You said nothing, but continued to frown as he teased you.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” He then said, pulling the knife entirely from your leg and idly tapping it against his stubbly chin. “How about…you call me ‘daddy’, like I asked you to…and I’ll let you out of the basement for the night? How does that sound to you?”

"That's...that's not fair," You mumbled softly, pulling tightly at your ropes and ducking your head down in mortified embarrassment, your face blazing bright red at the prospect of even saying the word, let alone- “You know I don’t like saying…saying that.”

"Come ooon, you have to play along!" He purred with a lecherous grin, running his tongue over his teeth as he leaned in close again, his crouching knee between your legs, dragging the blade of the knife over your scarred thigh, threatening, not cutting, not yet. "You know you want to. And I know I want to hear it."

"I'm not doing that!" You then said, loud enough that it made him flinch backward with surprise, your face bright red and angry despite how hazy your head was feeling from the humiliation at...such a demeaning demand from him. "That...has to be the worst thing you've asked me to do!"

"Oh, is it the worst? Are you sure?" He asked with a huffed-out little chuckle, still dragging the blade of the knife along your thigh, still threatening to cut. "I had no idea you were such a, ah," He paused for a moment, his eyes flitting upwards before a grin came to his face. "A prude! You certainly don't act one."

He let out another light chuckle from his nose as he angled the blade downwards and cut a shallow slice into your thigh, enough to bleed, enough to sting and scar. His golden eyes watched intently as you took in a hiss through your gritted teeth, your bare toes curling against the cold cement floor and trying to pull back to your chest.

"No, I know that you're no prude," He continued, pressing closer, his forehead against yours as he dragged another cut into your skin, relishing in the way your body spasmed at the slight pain. "I know from the way you squeal, the way you bite your lip when I hurt you, like you're not gagging for it." 

He laughed again, as his free hand reached up to cup your cheek, force your eyes together. You blushed even more, your lip trembling with a quiet whimper of shame as he leaned in closer to you, the knife at your thigh digging in even more, edging dangerously close to the hem of your panties.

"The way you want to scream and cry for more, but can't quite manage because of a ball gag or my cock in your mouth. It's all so adorable, liebling ." His voice dipped just a touch, deeper, authoritative, and tinged with lust. "But I think it's time we stop playing pretend, ja ?"

He slid the blade under the lace panel side of your panties, cutting through it easily (making you squeak even more when the blade nicked your skin) and revealing your cunt to the cool air of the basement.

"I know this is turning you on, as much as you hate to admit it." He leaned in even closer, until his warm breath was almost kissing your skin as he whispered in your ear, the tip of the blade folding aside the scraps of fabric and getting closer and closer to your core. "It's pretty cute to see you get so worked up about a word, liebling , but you know what I want to hear. So, spit it out."

The touch of the blade shifted again, its presence ever-threatening as you trembled helplessly beneath it, watching as it pressed against the ripening bud of your clit, sharp and dangerous.

"Don't make me ask you twice," He then said, after a long moment of heavy silence from you, pressing the tip of the blade down with a little more weight. "You know I'll do it."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a drawn-out and exaggerated moan, almost pornographic, tipping your head back and pressing your thighs together (though you weren't stupid enough to buck up against the knife, like you tended to).

"Ahhhnn..." You continued to moan, biting your lip for just a moment before you peered back up at him. "D-Daddy..."

"Hm?~" Strade hummed with a playful smirk, placing his blood-stained fingers under your chin to tilt your head towards him and force your eyes together again. "What was that?"

"Daddy..." You said again.

A satisfied smile came to his face as he pressed in even more against you, his nose against your temple, as your legs parted again and he moved the blade down from your clit and over the dripping parting of your cunt. 

"Good girl," He murmured against your cheek, his smile splitting into a sharp grin. "Suuuch a good girl, liebling . There now, was that so hard?"

You felt your entire body tremble and your insides plunge at the sensation of shame, though you could tell that Strade didn't mind that so much as he reached back and cut through your bondage.

"I could get used to hearing that, I think. How about we head upstairs?"

Teratophilia (Strade/Ren)

The machete slid through the amputated limb with ease, flesh, muscle, and bone unable to withstand the sharpened blade. Dark, aged blood spilled out on either side of the greying flesh of the arm, covering the bench on which he worked with a viscous spray. 

Ren instantly jumped back from the bench, looking down at his (now blood-covered) sweatpants with a wounded look. 

"Jeez, that better not stain," He grumbled softly with a frown, reaching down to rub at the new splash of blood adorning the fabric, knowing that he shouldn't. "I just got these..."

He continued to pout about his stained sweatpants, letting out a deep huff from his nose as he hacked the limb into several neat pieces, tossing each one into a metal bucket at his side with a bloody splat, like it was second nature to him. 

Ren's ears twitched at the sound of a growl behind him, the shift of chains against the cement floor, responding to each bloody splat of flesh.

"I know, I know, it's not the best we can get," Ren said softly, the pout fading just a touch as he smiled to himself, hacking through the wrist of the limb with a heavy *thwack* of the machete. "I'll get something fresher for you soon, but we need to make do with what we have for now."

He glanced over his shoulder with another bright smile, his tail wagging.

"Come on, don't be grumpy with me," He said with another playful pout, leaning down to take the bucket in hand and pacing across the basement, his bare feet cool and claws clicking against the floor. "You always love feeding time! It might not be gourmet or anything, but it's still food, right?"

He reached in to take a slice of the cut meat and squatted down, holding it out like a peace offering.

"You know you want it. Come on~" He cooed softly, with a little tilt of his head, a teasing smile, his fangs pressed into his bottom lip. "Take it."

His ears twitched again at the sound of another low growl as the chain dragged across the floor a little louder, his smile growing wider and wider as a hulking monster inched itself out of the darkness and towards Ren.

Strade sniffed cautiously as he brought his grey body closer, as sluggish and as slow as an animal. When he caught a good whiff of the meat, he licked his yellow teeth with a pleased-sounding grunt and brought his drooling mouth, his spit thick and viscous due in part to his still rotting skull, down to eat from Ren's hand.

"There we go," Ren praised with a smile, reaching up with his other hand to pet through Strade's matted hair, barely even grimacing when he caught a snag between his claws and had to pull at it. "I knew you couldn't be grumpy for long. It tastes good, huh?"

Strade let out a soft murr as he took another hungry bite of the meat, either not noticing Ren's petting or not caring about it as he shifted closer, the heavy chain hanging from his shock collar and bolted to the wall of the basement, still dragging against the cement. 

"You know, I dreamed about this before. Me doing this to you." Ren mused softly to himself. "I started to pray for it." He smiled serenely as Strade finished the last bite of meat and tongued Ren's palm messily, lapping up blood and viscera from his fingers. He was instantly reminded of feeding time at a petting zoo when he was a kid. "I fantasised about it for years, having you like this. It's kind of silly that I managed it so easily." He let out a little yip of a laugh, his tail wagging behind him as he reached for another chunk of meat to feed the lumbering beast. 

"Now you're all mine, forever and ever. My own pet monster~"

Strade raised his head from Ren's palm with another cautious sniff, temporarily distracted as the younger man reached for another chunk of the bloody flesh, before his dead eyes darted down again to the blood covering Ren's sweatpants, recognizing it as the thing he had tasted before with just a whiff.

Ren couldn't even try to stop him before he was thrown to the floor of the basement, Strade's hulking body straining against the taut chain still bolted to the wall as he caged Ren down with his heavier body, his eyes suddenly alive and stomach-churningly familiar.

Ren let out a shrill scream as Strade brought his head down to tongue at the soaking blood on his sweatpants, his hands gripping the young man's calves with a crushing amount of pressure, pinning him down to the ground (as he had so many other time before) and stopping him from struggling. Although he had no voice to gloat about how easy Ren was to overpower, Ren still felt the same surge of shame and humiliation twist in his gut and make him sick.

He frantically reached for his jacket pocket where he kept the remote to Strade's collar and pressed his thumb down on the button, emitting a sharp electric shock that burned into his skin, though that did very little to stop the lumbering monster as he forcefully yanked the sweatpants down to expose Ren's living flesh.

"No, no, no, no, nononononono," Ren shrieked, his eyes wide and frightened as he kept pressing the button of the collar, taking in desperate breathes through his teeth as his sweatpants were thrown aside and Strade started to tongue and nip his scarred thighs, hoping to pierce the skin with his flat teeth and taste the gush of fresh, hot blood. "Stop it, stop it now!"

If Strade couldn't be reasoned with when he was alive, trying to reason with him when he was dead would have been impossible.

Though he made a face of discomfort at the consistently shocking collar, that didn't stop Strade as he sat up on his knees with another rough grunt, taking one of Ren's kicking legs in hand, and forcing his body to bend in two, exposing his ass and pressing his soft cock up against his belly. 

Ren whimpered again, biting his lip hard and trying not to cry out as the monster stared down at him, tilting his head as his free hand reached down and palmed the plush flesh of his ass roughly, trying to feel the difference between living and dead flesh, and see which he preferred. 

Which one he liked the taste of more.

The shock collar was doing absolutely nothing to stop Strade, but he kept pressing the button, just to do something, to make sure that he wasn't taking this helplessly and passively as he used to, when Strade was still alive.

"Nghhh..." Ren gritted his teeth as he then felt the monster's thumb linger over the blooming, pink bud of his asshole, seemingly gauging his flustered reaction with a curious look. 

Even in death, Strade's curious nature persisted, it seemed.

To his surprise, though, Strade didn't sink his teeth into his flesh, nor did he tear him open, from groin to sternum, in a knash of bone and a rip of torn flesh. 

Instead, he felt the slimy wetness of the monster's tongue streak over his pale perineum, luxuriously and indulgently slow, before it focused intently on the hot, tight ring of muscle that twitched and convulsed so deliciously before his dead eyes, underneath his drooling, slack tongue, practically begging to be penetrated and devoured. 

Ren had never felt this sensation before, in all of his years of being with Strade, and it made his entire body go tight and his kicking legs relent as he focused in on the wet drag of Strade's tongue over his asshole. 

"AH!" Ren moaned loudly, tipping his head back, his little body arching underneath Strade's as his legs trembled and tightened around the bigger body, a surge of pleasure shooting through him, making his very core throb and burn with desperate wanting. "Hah...nghhh..."

Strade growled lowly with pleasure against Ren's hole, before his rasping tongue pressed deeper and deeper into his core and he started to thoroughly devour the younger man with fast and furious pleasure, relishing in his taste, relishing in the thrashing, living body underneath him.

It was so much better than dead meat. At least, that was what Ren assumed.

"Ahhhnn..." Ren let out a pornographic moan as he squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his free leg around Strade's broad shoulders, pulling him into his body and feeling the contradictory warmth of his mouth and the cold of his body. His tone had become restlessly needy, and the volume behind each of his moans and whimpers had picked up steadily as he got more and more wound up, his cock twitching excitedly and leaking against his belly from the maddeningly slow stimulation. "S-Strade...nghh, please..."

He pressed his thumb down on the button of the remote again, feeling the rumbling from the collar against his ankle as Strade continued on through the shock, letting out another deep growl at the sensations that were gradually growing more pleasurable than not. 

As Strade kept going, his teeth grazed against the rim of Ren's sensitive ass in a way that should have been painful, might have been painful at some point, but it just made the younger man desperately excited for even more stimulation from his monstrous lover.

"So good~" Ren drawled with a giddy smile, biting his lip hard as his vision started to blur and haze, his head lost in his own delirious pleasure. "God, I should have been doing this from the start..."

Strade let out his own grunt of agreement as a viscous string of drool ran down Ren's perineum and sloped up his arched back, cold in the cool air of the basement and enough to make him shiver all the more. He took in another sharp gasp, his eyes shooting open again as the monster somehow pushed his tongue even deeper, tasting the young man like a meal about to be devoured, an autopsy specimen about to be examined. 

Each comparison, each erotic and gory depersonalization that rendered his body as nothing more than an object for the monster's desire and hunger, made Ren's cock throb painfully, exquisitely, thrumming with pleasure as his slit oozed streams of precum against his trembling belly

He was unable to stop himself from shaking, trembling, and spasming even more as electric jolts of tortuous bliss shot through his body and melted his brain into a mush of pleasure and desperate wanting.

"God, I'm gonna cuuuum," He whined desperately, his voice high-pitched and drawling, squeezing his eyes shut and letting himself fall. "Please, please, please, please, please-!"

Perhaps knowing that Ren was seconds from orgasm, Strade managed to shove his tongue inside what little space was available, gripping the young man's ankle tightly, almost painfully, and wrenching his little body upwards even more, forcing him practically vertical and pressed tightly against his devouring mouth.

Ren let out another shriek as he was pulled upwards, though that didn't stop him from spilling over, a splatter of cum coating his belly, his chest, and reaching as far as his chin. 

After a few short moments of hungry slurping from Strade, keeping the young body totally boneless and pliable in his grip, he eventually relented and let Ren's body drop back down to the ground, lowering his head as he did so to lap up the mess of cum from the young man's belly hungrily.

Ren let out an unsteady sigh, barely cognisant as he reached down to pet Strade's hair again, simply enjoying the soft warmth of his tongue on his body and relishing in the attention and aftercare that he would have never received from the man in life. 

A slight smile came to his trembling lips as he let his eyes flit shut.

Master and Slave (Fox/MC)

"NGH!"

You let out a shriek as you fell to the marble floor and dropped the tray you were holding with a loud clatter, spilling the contents of the water jug atop it and shattering the glasses that had been stacked alongside it. 

You couldn't hold back a small whimper as you climbed up onto your aching knees, looking down at the mess you had made with a whispered curse as you tried to get your bearings and clean yourself up before anyone had the chance to notice what you had done.

You were rarely given those kinds of chances though. 

"Oh dear," Your body went rigid when you heard Fox's voice behind you, an obvious degree of humour to his tone as you heard the soft *tap-tap* of his shoes against the marble floor. "Someone's a bit clumsy today, aren't they?" He teased with a cruel chuckle. "I do hope I haven't overworked you too much, darling, you did have an awful lot of tasks to do this morning, after all."

"N-No, Master," You stammered quietly, keeping your eyes locked down as you sat up on your knees and reached for the (now) empty jug, placing it back on the tray before picking up some of the bigger chunks of glass. "I'm sorry, I'll clean it all up right away."

"Mm, I should think so," He hummed, stepping closer to you and standing behind your bent body with a soft click of his tongue. "But that's no way to clean up glass, slave. You'll cut yourself if you're not careful."

"Right," You replied quickly with a little nod of your head (your cheeks totally flushed at the demeaning title), placing down the chunks of glass and moving to stand to your feet. "I'll go get...um, I'll go get a broom to sweep it up."

"No, no."

You suddenly felt the sole of his shoe press firmly against the small of your back, keeping your body pinned down and still against the ground. You immediately froze like a rabbit in the headlights as he did so, keeping still on your hands and knees, as he pressed a touch more weight into your body, enough to make your limbs shake.

"I didn't say stop." He continued, his amused tone turning authoritative and stern, albeit as light-hearted as he always was when he was in this kind of mood. "You've made your bed, so lie in it, slave. Clean up your mess."

You gulped nervously as you did your best to look back at him over your shoulder, gauging his seriousness. 

Seeing his narrowed, golden eyes was more than enough to tell you that he wasn't joking.

You quickly looked back at the mess you had made and took in an unsteady breath, before slowly sweeping the shards of broken glass up with your hands, angling them in such a way as to avoid being cut up.

Eventually, after a few passes with your palms and the pile on the tray growing bigger and bigger, Fox took his foot off your back and continued to watch as you worked. 

"There we go. Clean it up, like the good, little slave I know you are."

And though you didn't bother to look behind you and see those eyes again, you knew that he was certainly staring down at you like a lecher, especially when you were bent over like this, your (uniform) skirt hiked up around your ass and... revealing the demeaning underwear he made you wear around the apartment, pink and frilly and barely enough fabric to keep you covered up. 

You gnawed at your lip and pressed your thighs together as you cupped your palm again, sweeping it over a heap of the smaller glass shards. You barely even registered when a shard of glass predictably lodged itself in your finger, so lost in your own thoughts that you couldn't feel the pain, though when you felt it, you immediately dropped the handful you had with a squeak and a shiver.

"Ah, fuck..." You took a slow hiss through your teeth, bringing your hand up to your face to inspect the wound a little more closely. You reached up with your other hand to pluck the glass from your skin quickly, so you could get back to work. 

"Keep going," Fox then said firmly, standing forward again. "You're not stopping just because you got hurt."

"Fox-Master, I just-"

"Don't you dare argue back," He interrupted you, his voice a harsh snap, so uncharacteristic that it made you immediately shut up. "Keep going. Now."

You bit your lip even harder, enough that you wondered if you'd made yourself bleed, before you did as you were told, placing both hands back on the ground and sweeping up more of the smaller shards with your bare palms, without another word of argument. You did your best not to whimper as your skin was cut multiple times, shallow slices dragged along the lines of your palms, tiny glass crystals lodged in your fingers, minute flecks of dust settling in the wounds, dotting blood down your skin, your wrists, on the fine marble floor. 

Once he felt that you had done an adequate job at cleaning up (and saw that your hands were beginning to shake and twitch from the blood) Fox squatted down in front of you and grabbed your wrist hard. 

Before you could even whimper or register what he was doing, he brought his mouth down to where the glass was lodged into your skin and ran his tongue along the worst wound on your palm, coating it and tasting your blood with a hungry expression on his face. 

He did this a few times, listening to you whimper and watching you squirm at the sensation, before letting your hand drop as he licked his lips, running his tongue over his fangs indulgently.

"Don't ever forget your place, slave," He said finally, before standing to his feet and leaving you to it. 

"Finish cleaning."

Costume (Ren/MC)

The zip of the latex catsuit slid easily up the small of your back, the thin metal cool against your burning skin, sealing inch after inch of your skin as it climbed up the gentle slope of your spine and to the middle of your neck, where your head was tilted forward obediently.

Your breath was already short, but it grew more and more shallow as the plastic was pulled tighter and tighter around your trembling body. 

The suit was probably a size too small for you, so it hugged every one of your curves as tightly as it possibly could, your body straining beneath the tight, breathless fabric.

"There," Ren said triumphantly behind you with an unseen smile, as he did up the little clasp at the middle of your neck and slid a small padlock through it (making you flinch again), locking you up tight, before smoothing a reassuring hand down your back. You barely suppressed a shudder as he touched you. "I knew it would fit you if we tried hard enough."

"Hmph," You grunted softly in acknowledgment, resting your gloved hands in your lap, where you were obediently kneeling down for him. 

"Don't pout," He said with a chuckle, idly running his fingers through your hair and pushing it over your shoulders so he could press a kiss to the sliver of skin that the latex wasn't covering. "You look beautiful. Like you walked right out of one of my fantasies."

"The less said about your fantasies, the better." You murmured softly, but that didn't stop your cheeks from flushing even darker at the compliments, genuine and sweet, like Ren often was when he was trying to get something he wanted.

He didn't take offense to your vaguely insulting words, it seemed, by the way he laughed again and crawled around your body to face you, his tail wagging as he admired you even further, his golden eyes gleaming with excitement.

"God, just look at you," He said, his voice a low purr as he placed his hands on your thighs, taking yours gently in his and rubbing his fingers over your latex-clad palms, careful not to drag his claws over the delicate plastic material. "All wrapped up tight in plastic." His voice dipped down into an indulgent growl as he brought his face close to your neck and ran the bridge of his nose against your jaw. "Like a doll. So perfect for me."

You took in a sharp little gasp at that particular name, your face almost beet red as you jerked your chin upwards before he had the chance to see how flustered he was getting you. 

Your breath grew even more shallow and you squirmed uncomfortably in your costume, the latex shifting and creaking with every tremble.

"Your nipples are getting hard," He mused with a hot breath against your already heated skin, his tail still wagging as he took one hand from yours and brought it up to the soft heft of your compressed chest under the tight plastic. "It looks pretty slutty, actually." He laughed again, running the pad of his thumb over the little bump, smiling at the way you twitched. "Pressing right up against the latex. Like you really are a fetish doll or something. A pretty little object made just for me."

"Mm...Ren," You whined softly, pressing your hands against his chest, your jaw trembling as he scented you, his sharp little fangs nipping at your neck and claiming what little skin he could with bruises. You knew that he was saying this for the sole purpose of teasing you even more, getting you wound up and hot, and...well, desperate for him. 

"Aw, but you're all sealed away," He giggled softly, raising his head to nip at your earlobe, nestling into your hair as he groped you a little harder, still teasing your nipples. "I can't fuck you like this, can I? And I guess I never will if I lose the key to this." 

He poked at the padlock behind your neck, making you flinch again.

"Don't tease me," You said with another little pout, biting your lip as his touch returned to your thigh and drifted up a little higher, against the plastic 'sealing' your cunt, for lack of a better word. 

"Mm, I think I will tease you, actually." He replied, pulling back and giving you a mocking smile. "It's too fun, not to. You're just so reactive~" 

It was a little unfair that he could play with you this easily.

Though you guessed that he was doing that on purpose. Just so you would begin to believe that you really were his toy.

His doll.

Orgasm Denial (Strade/MC)

"AH-AH-AH!"

You shrieked in time with each of Strade's hard thrusts, as he dragged your limp body down onto his cock, his full hips slamming against your backside rhythmically like a machine. 

He had been teasing and taunting you for what felt like hours, keeping two thick fingers inside of you, while he had you pinned in his lap and watched through one of the streams that you had edited for him ('earning your keep', he had called it when he first set you to the task), until you were so wound up and desperate that you were grinding against his thigh with whimpering little pleas, your wet cunt leaving a streak of damp in its wake. 

Eventually, after he was satisfied with your work, he took his hard cock from his slacks and pressed deep inside of you, first forcing your body to bend over his desk, your loose shorts long pushed aside, before pulling your hips back against his lap, stretching you out and filling you even deeper.

You breathed hard, your teeth grit and your eyes squeezed shut as he did so, your knees and hips already aching from the difficult, strenuous positions he was forcing you into, but you were so desperate to feel something, so desperate to cum that you didn't even care about your discomfort, as long as you got something, anything.

"I can feel your pussy clinging to me," He murmured through a hungry growl, his half-lidded eyes boring a hole into the back of your skull as he pushed you back against the desk and raised his hips, running the weeping head of his cock against your hole, listening to your pants and whimpers. "Like a fucking vice. You're close, aren't you, fraulein ?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded with a little squeak, suppressing a whimper as he kept dragging the tip of his cock over your clit and along the slit of your dripping cunt.

You didn't even think to lie to him. You couldn't think of those things anymore, you were that loyal to him now. 

"Mmm?" He hummed softly, letting his cock rest at the opening of your gasping hole as he reached up and wound your long hair around his palm. "You're gonna cum on my cock like the little slut you are, huh? You're just that fucking easy, aren't you, baby?"

"Yessss, I'm easy," You whined loudly, letting your head droop down for just a moment before you let out a yelp as he yanked your head back, digging his grubby nails into your scalp as he held your body upright. "AH! Yes, yes, I'm gonna-!"

"No, you're not," He then said, his voice quiet as he pressed his lips to your burning cheek, sliding his cock back inside you (with a disgustingly wet schlick ) and slowing down his thrusts to an even pace of shallow hip juts that barely kept you satisfied but left you hungry, starving, for even more. "You're not going to cum at all, actually."

"H-Huh?" You squeaked as he reached down in front of you with his free hand and started to rub your clit a little erratically. 

And he *never* did that.

"You heard me, dummkopf ," He replied, his voice an eager growl as he pressed deeper and deeper inside of you, entirely penetrating you like you were nothing more than a sex toy, a fuck doll in his lap, making you shriek and gasp. He hooked his stubbly chin over your shoulder and growled his next words into your neck in between bites and teasing kisses. "You're not going to cum. And if you do cum, we might have to recreate one of those scenes you edited for me."

He idly nodded toward the video that was still playing on his computer screen, and you were smart enough to know exactly what he was threatening you with. 

"Is that clear?" He purred, giving you a moment before he slapped your cunt with another rough yank of your hair. "I said, is that clear?"

"AH-! Y-Yes, it's clear!" You yelped, gritting your teeth as a tear ran down your cheek.

All the while he kept fucking you, occasionally slipping his cock out from inside you and thrusting the tip against your engorged clit (that he was still fucking rubbing) to make you squeak and shudder, your body spasming from the sudden stimulation.

It was heavenly, in the very worst possible way. As he pushed deeper inside of you and rubbed your clit, stimulating every one of your vulnerable spots, what felt like little jolts of electricity shot through your body and kept you constantly on edge, making every single nerve spark up with radiating white heat, just from the attention he was paying to you.

It felt good, so fucking good, that it was painful. 

You couldn’t and didn't try to stop the spasms or the shakes wracking your body, nor did you stop your soft whimpering from the white-hot pain that you didn’t want to ever, ever stop. 

You sort of hoped that he was misinterpreting this whole situation, hoped that he thought you hated this particular brand of torture when really, you fucking adored it, just so that he would use it against you a little more often.

You didn't have much of an opportunity to keep that secret to yourself though, before he suddenly pulled you back, forced your body into his lap again, pressing deep, *deep* inside of you and making you spill over involuntarily, covering his lap with your cum and shrieking out loud as you did so.

"Hah," He let out a short sigh of exertion as your body went slack against his desk again before he let out a bark of a laugh, flicking his hair from his face. "Ha! You really are dumb, aren't you? I thought we were clear , fraulein ."

You trembled just a touch as you tried to squirm away from him but he kept two strong hands bracketed to your hips quickly, keeping you pinned still.

"Well, well...looks like we're due for another show of our own, aren't we?~"

Threesome (Strade/MC/Ren)

"You know...I don't normally like sharing."

"Hm?"

You looked up towards your companion as the two of you worked through a pile of his laundry together, unpacking the heaving basket (he really did go through all of his clothes so quickly) and sorting through and folding up t-shirts, shorts and underwear for him to put away.

In the months of knowing Ren, you had grown fond of him. 

Maybe it was because he was a total nerd like you were, who liked the same things you did and was always happy to talk about movies or music with you while you did your daily chores, or it might have been the necessary comradery you both needed to survive, well...a place like this. 

There was something about Ren that was different from other nerdy boys you once knew, something that set him apart from a stereotypical captive of a sociopathic sadist, and you knew that from the first moment you met him.

You knew he was fucked up, in the same ways you were. 

You knew there were parts of Ren that had struggled in the same ways that you had, had struggled with darkness and being too difficult to love. Maybe he'd even had his own slew of college girlfriends (or maybe boyfriends) that had been unable to fix him, despite how much he had tried to be fixed. 

And even though the first few months had been difficult, clouded with his obvious jealousy and fear of being replaced in the eyes of his master, and your own sheer desperation to just survive until the next day, you had grown closer.

You had a routine of sorts now. You did his laundry, he cooked meatless meals for you. You showed him a game you liked and he looked up good horror anime to watch together.

It felt good to have a friend in here, someone to share all of this with, and someone who didn't think you were a freak for the slowly developing feelings you were having for the man responsible for all of this loneliness. 

"Yeah. I'm kind of the jealous type." Ren admits with a shy smile, folding one of his shirts into a neat little square, his hands trembling just a touch as your own idled over the task at hand. "I mean, I'm sure you probably could have guessed that..."

"Right," You replied with a guilty smile, glancing down. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

"But um...I do think I could get used to it...w-with you, I mean." His smile broke into a little, if slightly unsure, grin, a soft chuckle falling from his lips as his golden eyes met yours, sparkling with something you hadn't felt in months; hope. "It might actually be kinda nice to share all of this with someone else. Someone who understands."

You gulped, almost a little nervous as you felt a bit of a flush come to your cheeks, your lip trembling as you looked him up and down, as he occupied himself again with folding his laundry.

Not wanting Ren to see your watering eyes or your trembling jaw, you quickly crossed to his side of the desk, wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug, as tight as you could manage without hurting him. You buried your face against his shoulder with an unsteady breath and enveloped yourself in his soft, comforting warmth, his scent of fur and clean hair and vanilla, and allowed your silent tears of sympathy and understanding to fall down your cheeks and hopefully soak into his shit. 

And though he was shocked into stillness for a few moments (perhaps due to the sudden act of affection without any bad intentions or malice behind it, something he was not at all used to), he eventually wound his arms around your middle and squeezed you back tightly, his twitching tail curling around your bodies and tangling the two of you together even further. 

You thought, for just a moment, that he might have started crying with you, when you felt him bury his face against your shoulder and his body start to tremble and shake in your tight embrace, but neither of you wanted to pull away and let this perfect, peaceful moment be ruined.

But, when Ren eventually did pull away with a subtle sniff, his ears twitching forward, he surprised you by pressing a firm kiss against your mouth, quickly and sweetly, like he was a little kid giving his crush their very first kiss.

You too pulled back, your eyes wide open and your lips parted with surprise. 

"A-Ah," Ren let out a little breath, his own eyes wide and his ears perched up high. ""I'm sorry! I-I thought that I could..." He gulped nervously before he bashfully looked down at the carpeted floor, his ears flattening down on the top of his head (meaning he was embarrassed or ashamed). "I thought that maybe you'd want to as well, cus, we were hugging, but, ah-" His tail straightened out nervously and moved stiffly behind him. "I'm sorry..."

"No," You murmured softly, letting your arms drop down from around his shoulders as you took his hands in yours, holding them tight, squeezing them reassuringly. "No, it's okay, Ren. It's okay."

He shivered a little, looking back at you as his ears tilted back up.

"You mean it?" He asked, digging one of his fangs into his bottom lip, gnawing on it as his worried expression faded, little by little. "It's okay?"

"It's okay," You smiled encouragingly, rubbing your thumbs over his palms, letting out a little sigh as the flush on your cheeks burned a little darker. "It's really okay, I promise."

"So," He continued as he held your hands back, his golden eyes shining that much brighter as a slight smile came to his sweet face. "Can I...can I kiss you again?"

You swallowed nervously, your eyes flitting downwards and your hands shaking a little as he ran his claws over your knuckles, grazing them like needle points very gently before you nodded your head.

You didn't know if Strade would take issue with the two of you doing, well, any of this, but you couldn't care less about what he would take issue with at that moment.

"Yeah...yeah, you can kiss me again." You replied with another nod. "You can kiss me."

The second kiss came much more easily than the first, as did the third, as did the fourth, as did the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh. His mouth was warm and wet against yours, tasting as sweet and as familiar as his scent, as he tore his fingers away from your hands and reached up to press them in your hair, and when you parted your lips against his, pressing closer to him, he pressed his tongue into your mouth, as slow and as smooth as lava.

Between each kiss and as he pressed closer to you, his tail wagging frantically behind him, you managed to pull away for enough time to yank off your shirt and sports bra and fling them both to the other side of the room, exposing your bare chest for him to see. Even in the comforting warmth of Ren's bedroom, the safe haven from the rest of the house, your newly pierced nipples were perky and pink with arousal. 

Ren stared at you like a man starved, his eyes wide and his face flushed. 

It made you feel desired. You didn't realise how much you had missed that feeling, without it being associated with a particularly violent subtextual meaning. 

You felt oddly demure as you led him to the other side of his desk and fell back into the pile of clothes, cushions, and fabric scraps that made up his nest of a bed, an eager smile spreading on your lips as Ren quickly pulled off his own shirt too and threw it aside with yours, kneeling over you as he did so.

His chest was covered in scars, much like the rest of him, and though the majority of his body appeared slight, lean, and slender, there was a softness to his stomach that you couldn't help but find utterly adorable.

"You're so beautiful..." He said, his voice soft and his tone oozing with sincerity, as he loomed over you, his small body caging your own with ease as his hungry eyes continued to stare. "C-Can I...please, can I-"

"You can do whatever you want." 

With your permission granted, he immediately dipped his head to kiss your neck, paying close attention to the bruises and mocking love bites that peppered the more sensitive areas, the hollow of your throat, the skin beneath your jaw, your collarbones, mean little reminders of ownership left by his…your master. 

Your back arched with each kiss and wet streak of spit from his tongue, pressing your chest against his, and you couldn't help the long, keening moan of pleasure that spilled from your lips as he grazed his sharp, needle-point teeth against the sensitive juncture between your neck and your shoulder. 

If he wanted to bite you, really bite you and dig his teeth in and make you bleed, you'd let him, you think. 

Strade had made his mark on you a number of times already, so it was probably fair that Ren got his chance as well.

You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, curling them into a weak fist, and tugged his head downwards in a silent instruction for him to pay some attention to your chest. The whimper he let out, the keening mewl that lurched its way out of the very back of his throat, sparked a fire deep inside of your core, and you threw an arm over your face to hide just how much you were blushing, as he pressed an insistent kiss to each shuddering breast.

"You're...you're so good for me..." Ren whispered against your skin, his voice low and husky, and when he caught your barely masked gaze with his own, his eyes were half-lidded and filled with desperate, urgent need, a dreamy smile on his face. "So loud and receptive and...god, I want you so bad."

He dragged his tongue up your breast and latched his sharp teeth onto your nipple, his ears tilting back at the sound of your high moans as he sucked the swollen little nub gently and dragged the bulge of his erect cock against the growing wet patch of your shorts.

“Ahhn…” You groaned, your head swimming from the pleasure, as he dug one of his fangs into your nipple teasingly, reaching up to unbutton and unzip his jeans and shift them down his hips, taking away another barrier between the two of you and letting you feel the heat and warmth of his cock through the thin layer of his cotton boxers. “R-Ren…nghh, please…”

"Well, well, well, now isn't this a surprise?"

When the two of you heard Strade's voice, your instant reaction was to get away from each other, both of your bodies shooting backward like magnets repelling. Your face burned red with embarrassment at being so exposed as you wiped a thin stream of drool from your lips and covered your breasts with your arm, all while Ren attempted to readjust himself, pulling up his jeans to make his obvious erection a little less obvious.

Strade didn’t appear too bothered by the state of you though, as he loomed in the bedroom door casually, idly tossing and catching a ruby red apple up and down, up and down, rhythmically. 

If anything, he appeared to be somewhat pleased to find the both of you in such a compromising position, a slow grin coming to his face and his eyebrows raised, like he had found something particularly interesting.

"Strade!" Ren managed to squeak, his shaking hands still trembling and struggling to button up his jeans. "I-It isn't what it looks like, I swear, we weren't doing anything-"

"Now, now, little fox." Strade interrupted, his voice low but undeniably teasing and amused. "I'm not mad. I'm actually kind of impressed." He stopped catching the apple and raised it to his lips, taking a swift bite and smiling as he chewed, his teeth wet. "I didn't think you had it in you! Masel tov!"

A furious blush came to Ren's face as he looked away, clearly uncomfortable and maybe even a little bit frightened by Strade's sudden presence in his room, the deliberate invasion of his safe haven away from the older man. Strade appeared to be ignorant of this, that or he didn’t care enough to notice, as he continued to chew open-mouthed on his apple, still staring the two of you down.

"Well, come on now. By all means, don't stop on my account." He said, making both of you look up at him with wide, frightened eyes, as his own softened with poorly concealed lust. "I wanna see where this goes."

"You...you can't be serious," Ren mumbled softly, his quiet tone taking on a grave quality, his thin brows furrowed in concern under his bangs and his tail standing stiff with fear, his eyes meeting your own with an expression of concern and undeniable care.

"Ah, you’re misunderstanding me. I see." Strade replied with a short laugh as he casually sauntered into Ren’s bedroom, placing the half-eaten apple core on his desk before leaning against it, his hands behind his back, his feet crossed over the top of each other. 

Ever casual, never one to reveal anything. 

“That wasn’t a question. I’m telling you. Keep going. ”

"S-Strade..." Ren mumbled softly, tearing his eyes away from yours and looking back towards your captor. "Come on, we weren't...doing anything."

"Mm, of course, of course." Strade hummed, running his tongue over his teeth as he casually reached down to the pocket of his slacks. "So, our dear, sweet fraulein here just...sits around with their top off all the time, hm? How unlucky of me to have never caught that!" He laughed as he pulled out a leather holster, revealing it to you from his pocket, and yanked his well-used bowie knife from it, sharp silver shining in the low light of Ren's bedroom. "Don't make me ask twice, Ren. You of all people know what happens when I do that."

You could feel your heart beating at the very back of your throat as you heard Strade's words, a reaction that you knew Ren must have been feeling too, by the way his body stiffened, his Adam's apple bobbing against his frail throat.

"W-What do you want me to do?" Ren stammered softly, his eyes flitting down bashfully, his expression that of fear and unspoken obedience .

"Touch them like you were," Strade said curtly, though with a look of eminent satisfaction on his face, pointing the knife towards you, threatening you. "Take them. Fuck them, and fuck them hard . That’s what I want you to do, fuchs. "

Ren's eyes widened again at the sudden direction of the knife, his ears flattening again at the mean petname, and his eyes went back to you, just as frightened as you were. 

He gulped hard again and took a few steps closer to you, looking down at you with an expression of guilt and concern, because at least he had the decency to feel that, if anything, gnawing his lip as he knelt down over you again and took your chin in hand, his delicate little claws digging into your cheek and jaw. 

You knew that Ren wouldn't have had a chance in Hell at standing up to Strade if he tried, you knew that and you didn’t want him to get hurt defending you, but you couldn't help but feel a twist of betrayal in your gut at his complete lack of opposition to him, that he was doing as he was told without even the slightest argument. 

"Just...pretend it's us, okay?" Ren said quietly, his tone earnest and protective, obviously trying to make the most of the situation as a nervous smile came to his face. "Like we were before, yeah? When it felt good."

"Mm," You let out a muffled grunt as he shifted back on top of you, his hand back on your breast, his cock (slightly soft but not nearly as much as it should have been) pressing back against the warm spot in your shorts.

Ren kept looking at you intently, gauging your reaction as he tried to resume the pace that you had been going at before, teasing a nipple as he rubbed his cock up against your clothed cunt, and though it felt good, because of course it felt good, you couldn't stop your stomach from churning tight little knots at the reminder of who was watching, who was judging the two of you and seeing how well you could perform for him. 

"Ah," Ren let out a little groan, reaching back down to unbutton his jeans and shift them down his thighs with his underwear before he pressed his cock against the gusset of your shorts, rubbing the weeping head against the sodden fabric. 

Any hesitance he might have had wasn't stopping him, it seemed.

Maybe he had felt conflicted about it, conflicted in the ethics of enjoying a largely unresponsive body underneath his, but his enjoyment and evident arousal seemed to have been winning against his quickly depleting morals. 

"You're taking your sweet time, fuchs ," Strade commented dryly behind the two of you, picking dirt from his nails with the tip of his knife, his voice loud enough to make Ren flinch and his rutting hips stutter. "Show me something I want to see or I'm going to get impatient." 

“R-Right, yes, I’ll try.” Ren stammered, his sweet face blushing bright red as he brought both hands to your hips and pulled at the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down quickly, forcefully, his claws grazing the soft skin of your thighs and leaving behind shallow marks in your skin. He took a deep breath and then nodded a bit, like he was trying to amp himself up, more than anything else, before speaking quietly yet again with a soft and concerned gaze toward you. “S-Sorry if this is…ya know, uncomfortable…”

You barely managed a flat glare in his direction before he was pushing himself inside of you roughly, your cunt nowhere near wet enough to support an easy entry as he pressed up, right to the very base of his cock, where his knot was beginning to swell. You shrieked shrilly and clung tight to his smaller body, digging your nails into his back and making him bite back a whimper, as his cock slid out of you and his hips jerked backward at the pain.

Funny. You would have imagined he'd have a greater pain tolerance by now.

He bit his lip with an annoyed (almost panicked) little grunt, reaching down to the base of his cock and jerking his fist up and down it a few times, to get himself hard and ready to push back inside of you. 

"Can't keep it up, Ren?" Strade then asked with a mean chuckle, slamming the knife down into the wood of the desk and standing behind him, looming and lecherous as Ren kept trying to keep himself hard, muttering out little excuses, protests, ‘please, just give me a second’s. "Well, you know what they say...don't send a boy to do a man's job, eh, fraulein ?"

He pet the space between Ren's ears condescendingly before he made eye contact with you, raising an eyebrow as his honey-deep eyes narrowed a touch. 

"Come here, baby."

Biting your lip and shooting an apologetic look toward Ren as you do so, you obediently crawl out from underneath him and over to Strade's side, humiliation and shame making you shiver as the two men watch every move ardently. 

A slow, satisfied smile came to Strade's face when you knelt at his side, and when he stroked your hair, sweet and cloying and nothing he’d really do to you in a thousand years, you instantly keened into his touch with a pleased sigh, kneeling up even further to chase the touch when he pulled back for a moment.  

He let out a soft laugh from the back of his throat as he kept stroking through your hair, like you were a pet in his lap. 

The comparison, you thought, was quite apt at that moment.

He knew he had you in the palm of his hand, and what was worse, he knew that he could do anything to you just as long as he followed it with these moments of quiet kindness. 

All the while, Ren was watching intently, his gaze growing heated and..even a little jealous. 

It was an expression that you were familiar with.

"Hm…I’m really sorry to break this to you, buddy" Strade started, his gaze going back towards Ren, his voice domineering and demanding of all attention in the quiet room, as he pushed a hand through your hair and pulled your head forward to press against the quickly stiffening bulge in his trousers. "But your little playmate here is already a nasty little whore. Isn't that right, liebling ?"

Unable to truly answer with words, you pressed your face against his crotch, gripping his trouser leg in a desperate attempt to ground yourself when you were feeling so dazed, and took a long breath of him, enveloping yourself in his warmth, his scent.

Much like Ren’s attempt to ignore his animal impulses, the urge to fight back was weaning, quickly, as you let yourself be used by him. 

"Is someone getting jealous?" Strade asked with a teasing lilt to his voice, his smirk broadening as his eyes went up to meet Ren's heated gaze, as he twisted his fingers in your hair and kept you pinned against his broad thigh, unzipping his slacks with his other hand and palming himself, despite keeping you so still. “You can tell me, Ren…”

Ren's eyes stayed locked on Strade’s, his cheeks flushing a little as his eyes flitted down to the ground. The younger man was silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond before he said something.

"M-Maybe..." Ren stammered in a quiet voice, a slight pout to his full lips.

"Aw, how sweet~" The older man crooned as his smirk shifted into a grin. "Jealous of who, I wonder?"

Ren gulped tightly, looking more and more embarrassed as he averted his eyes, his tail swishing behind him.

“You know who,” He replied, his voice almost curt, despite how much he was blushing. 

"Ah, do I?" Strade hummed thoughftully as he tilted his head, letting out a little sigh through his teeth as he tugged his cock from his underwear and slowly jerked it, in front of your waiting eyes. "How about you tell me, fuchs ? How about you tell me with your words? It’s unlike you to be so quiet, so shy…"

Ren barely resisted a little whimper at the back of his throat, his hands balling into fists at his sides, watching the two of you intently as Strade jerked himself off, as you pressed yourself even closer to his cock, inhaling his scent.

He looked almost angry, angry about how jealous he was.

Perhaps angry that Strade always managed to wind him up like this. Always managed to get what he wanted, no matter what that might have been. 

"I- I'm jealous of you touching her..." Ren replied quietly and with a bit more embarrassment clear to his tone, his little body practically shaking with shame. “I’m jealous that you can take her so easily…and I’m jealous that you’re taking her and not me.”

Strade let out a condescending 'tut' with his tongue, before he leaned back against the desk, keeping your head pinned to his thigh as the grip around his cock tightened, just a touch, enough to make the vein next to his knuckles stand up, his eyes ever indulgent as they glanced from you and back towards Ren.

"Nothing's stopping you from joining your little friend on your knees, sweetheart," He crooned, obviously appealing to a softer part of Ren, a needier part of him that yearned for Strade, as much as you did. "Go ahead, if you're so jealous."

Your eyes shot back to see how the younger man would respond to such an invitation. Predictably, Ren blushed heavily, his ears upright and erect, his tail still, his cock hard, evidently not realizing how badly he had wanted to do exactly what Strade was telling him to do. 

"Can I...?  I really want to..." Ren mumbled quietly and in a pleading tone, feeling like he wanted nothing more than to be in the same position as you, serving his master, worsipping him.

“Get down,” Strade growled softly, his eyes dark and starving when you looked up at him and his whole expression victorious, like he had won the best possible prize at the fair. “On your knees.”

Ren sank down to his knees obediently, without even a word  and crawled over to the both of you, perching himself next to you, his naked thigh pressing to yours, his frantically wagging tail carressing your back.

In the end, the two of you did grow closer…just like you had wanted to.

Shotgunning (Lawrence/MC)

"Can I try some?"

Your voice was quiet in the heavy, moisture-dense air of the apartment, in the quiet of the city waiting outside the wide windows, as you sat up on the bed and moved a little closer to Lawrence, who had just lit up a joint.

They had taken some time to prep it after settling cross-legged on the ground, grinding up a little nugget of weed and tobacco as you idly scrolled through your phone, your eyes occasionally shooting up to watch them as they rolled the rolling paper tightly and reached for the lighter from their bedside.

"Huh?"

They looked up towards you, lowering the joint after taking their first drag and exhaling the mouthful of smoke steadily. They blinked curious grey eyes and ran their tongue over their chapped bottom lip, taking a moment to compose themselves.

"Can you try some...what? The joint?” They blinked again, before they nodded their head, shaking a heavy chunk of blonde hair across their shoulder. “Um…y-yeah, sure you can..."

They held the joint up towards you, sitting up on the knees to be closer.

You set your phone down and scooted up on their bed, throwing your legs over the side before taking the joint in hand and inspecting it closely. 

"I've, er…I’ve never tried it before, actually." You said softly, looking from the joint and towards them again. "Can you show me how?"

A light smile came to their pretty face as they let out a low chuckle, pushing their hair back behind their ear in a practiced, delicate gesture.

"Sure..." They said with a nod before they took the joint back from you. "So you gotta take a drag on it...like this,"

You watched intently as they raised it back to their lips and took a long drag on it, an indulgent look of thoughtless sleepiness on their face, which you enjoyed…maybe a little more than you should. They held the smoke on their tongue for a moment, before taking a long inhale through their nose and then exhaling, breathing out the smoke slowly.

When they breathed out, the smoke streaming from their lips and nostrils looked like worms, like tendrils, like vines, thin and white. You didn't even try shaking off that intrusive though

"Then you exhale like that. Don't try to hold it in for too long or you'll cough like crazy." They then said with another little smile, holding the joint back out to you. “Try it.”

You huffed through your nose and rolled your eyes at their instructions, feeling condescended to despite Lawrence’s sincerity, and took the joint again, raising it to your lips and taking in a slow drag. 

Lawrence watched as intently as you had as you took a second drag on the joint and held your breath, holding the smoke on your tongue, thick and smokey.

"Yeah...that's it.” They praised, tilting their head slightly. “Just take it in slowly, don't let it catch you off-guard." Their smile broke into a slight grin. "You're doing it right though. So, so far so good..."

Your brain felt like it was slowing down, bit by bit, as you held the smoke on your tongue for a moment longer, before you took in a breath, a quick inhale, too quick to let the smoke permeate your thoughts properly, and when you tried to exhale outwards steadily, as they had, your breath caught roughly in your throat and made you cough. 

Lawrence started laughing, something you had never seen them really do, but tried to suppress it with a fist raised to their lips. It was nice, even kind of sweet, but you couldn’t really pay attention to the gesture when you were still coughing.

"Aah, ah, you're getting it…” They said through quiet chuckles, sitting up from the floor to rub your back. “Well, you were getting it...it’s okay, you’re okay…"

"I don’t like weed," You groaned as you held the joint out back to them. “Or smoking, or anything. I don’t want anything in my lungs but air now, actually.”

Lawrence laughed again, taking back the joint as they kept rubbing your back, as your coughing settled down into slow breaths.  

"Mm…ah, there is a technique that you might enjoy a little more." They murmured softly, as the hand on your back slid upwards, up towards the very top of your spine, gently stroking the sharp notch of the bone. “Do you wanna try it with me?”

“Alright,” You replied, keening up a little into the touch, as Lawrence got closer to you on the bed, their bare thigh pressing against yours, knees knocking together. “Why not?” 

Their hand trembled a little, long fingers twitching, as they held the burning joint back up to their own lips, taking in a longer exhale than they had before, their grey eyes flitting shut with the pleasurable sensation of numbness that followed with it. 

They let their hand relax against your thigh then, the glowing ember of the joint warm against your skin, as they inhaled sharply and peered back towards you, and brought their face closer to yours, close enough to kiss, close enough that you could smell the heavy scent of weed on their breath, on top of the plant matter and soil that clung to them. 

"Now...inhale as I exhale...slow...steady."

When they exhaled the mouthful of smoke against your lips, you took in a shaking little inhale, feeling both the smoke and the warmth of Lawrence’s breath on your skin and tasting the haze of the weed on your tongue.  

“That's good...that's very good," Lawrence praised very softly, watching as you took in more of the smoke, rubbing your thigh encouragingly. “Taste it. Taste the smoke on your tongue.”

It was difficult to focus on what they were saying, exactly, as you felt their warm breath against your lips, their big hand on your thigh rubbing against your skin. 

This felt better than taking the joint normally, that was all you knew.

They moved forward slightly, their body leaning toward yours, sitting thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder. 

"That...feels nice," You mumbled softly as you exhaled finally, your head swimming nicely through the haze of weed, the haze of suddenly burgeoning arousal. “Mm…yeah. Maybe I get it now.” You then said with a little chuckle, peering towards Lawrence when you felt the muscles in their thigh tense up a little, felt them shiver.

Without a word, Lawrence leaned in further, their mouth hovering over yours again, but the hand on your thigh didn’t move. You felt their breath on your lips again. Their fingers were trembling ever so slightly as they keened parted lips against yours, inhaling your own scent as they did so.

"Law..." You mumbled softly, your cheeks flushing a little darker as the hand rubbing your spine spanned forward against your cheek, cupping it so gently.

"Kiss me." They then whispered against your lips, their breath warm and hot and alive in a way they so often weren't . 

You couldn't think of any reason not to.

You leaned in and kissed them softly, tasting the smokey sweetness on their lips as your tongue pressed forward and parted them, letting you deepen the kiss and properly enjoy the comforting warmth of their mouth.

The two of you tumbled back against the bed, making out hungrily like a pair of doped-up teenagers.

You didn't even notice when the ember of the joint burnt the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Menophilia (Fox/MC)

You were in trouble .

Fox had caught you trying to signal the attention of a member of staff that had flitted to and from the apartment while he was working, and naturally assumed the worst of you. Not like you could really blame him. 

You were a hostage, for God's sake, who knew what you could have gotten up to when you were out of his sight?

That's why you were sitting in the living room, your (metaphorical) tail between your legs, waiting for the scolding of a lifetime.

"So...would you like to explain to me what you were doing trying to contact my staff?" Fox said, his tone almost grave as he closed the door of his office behind him and leaned against it. "I do hope you weren't planning an escape...after all I've done to train you so well, after everything that we’ve done? I should really be more insulted than I am, you know."

"I wasn't," You murmured softly, looking down at your lap with a shake of your head as he paced to your front, kneading your fingers against your thigh. "I wasn't planning to escape, that's...not what I was doing, I promise."

"Oh? What was it, then?" He asked with a raised brow, taking a step closer to you, taking your chin in his hand and raising it up to meet his eyes, his own cold. You made a little noise of discomfort when he took your face in hand, looking down at your flushed expression with a vague look of condescending sympathy. 

Better that than anger, you guessed.

"What were you planning, if not an...elaborate escape? A surprise party, maybe? Should I have my secretary write up an RSVP?" He finished with a forced chuckle, a little shrug of his shoulders.

"I just...I needed something that I didn't have," You replied, your words a little slurred as he squished your cheeks. 

"What could you possibly need that you don't already have?" He then asked, narrowing his eyes a touch, like he couldn't believe what you were saying. "You're provided everything in the world, the best possible luxuries, and yet, you still demand more? How insatiable of you, pet. You'll be wanting to go to the opera next!" 

Your cheeks flushed again as you tried to pull back from his firm grip, but it only encouraged him to pull you in even closer, digging his claws into the soft skin.

He took a moment to brush a thick lock of hair behind your ear to reveal your flushed face to his view, smirking lightly before it twitched for just a moment, as his nostrils flared and he finally took a good long whiff of you, and...worked out the reason you were trying to ask for things from his staff in almost an instant. 

Your face flushed bright red immediately when the expression of recognition slowly came to his face, trying to avert your gaze and hide just how embarrassed you were, as a slow and hungry smirk spread on his face.

"Sooo, that's what it is," The older man chuckled darkly, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement and mischief. "Someone forgot to take their birth control, didn't they? Haha, how cute! Now you're streaming like a fountain, aren't you?"

"Oh my god," You murmured, practically trembling from how mortified you were feeling, trying desperately to pull back from him.

"Aww..." He grinned a little wider, clicking his tongue in mock sympathy. "Did you think that I wouldn't work out your little secret?" He laughed again at your blushing and trembling. "Or were you hoping I wouldn't notice? I'm a fox, if you forgot, sweetheart," He leaned a little closer, his ears twitching and his tail wagging, seemingly emphasising his point even further. "I can smell it now, actually, now that it’s just the two of us..."

"Can you please just ask someone to get me some tampons or something...?" You mumbled, keeping your eyes locked down and waiting desperately to just be dismissed.

"And why would I do that, darling?" He laughed again and rubbed your chin as he watched your embarrassed and trembling reactions indulgently. "I mean I'm enjoying this very much, personally.”

"Fox..." You whimpered softly, biting your lip as your cheeks flushed even more. "Please...I don't ask you for anything."

"I'm not giving you anything either." He replied easily, finally letting go of your face to join you on the couch, slinging an arm around your trembling shoulders and watching you with a sharp grin. "Maybe if you let me enjoy what I want first, I'll think about providing you with what you need , hm?"

You didn't move your head, not wanting to look up and be an accomplice to your own degradation, but your eyes flitted upwards to see as he placed his free hand on your thigh, digging his claws in and gently, barely jerking it to the side to meet his own thigh, wordlessly telling you what he wanted, what he expected.

You didn't say a thing as you let your legs part, showing a soaking, red stain on your white underwear and the smear of blood covering your inner thighs.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the small stain, but the older man didn't resist an even wider grin as he grabbed your thigh even harder and yanked your body down against the couch, offering him the perfect opportunity to cage you down and stare at the mess between your legs. 

"Well, would you look at that?" He said, with a voice as close to awe as a bastard like Fox could manage. "And they have no one to blame but themselves for not asking me just a little bit sooner~ You really could have avoided all of this mess, sweetheart."

"You would have said no..." You murmured softly as he got closer to you, his nostrils flared and dragging your scent in, keeping your legs parted with a firm grip on your thigh.

"Of course, I would have said no, are you kidding?" He replied with a scoff. "I would have done it just to watch you squirm like this and see the look on your face. Priceless! It would have been just too cute for me to resist."

You let out an unsteady breath, almost a whimper, through your gritted teeth as he continued to stare down at you, taking in long breaths of your heavy scent like he was indulging in a delicious meal or a fine wine. After a few moments, he finally looked you in the eye, his own blown wide with hunger, running his tongue over his jaws.

"Do you want me to clean you up?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper, and leaned closer, his clawed finger running up the middle of the soaking gusset of your panties, where the blood was still soaking through.

"H-Huh?"

"I said..." The older man repeated himself, his voice taking a teasing undertone, as his expression got hungrier. "Do you want me to clean up your little mess, pet~?"

You didn't answer properly, not with your words, not trusting them enough not to give away how nervous and frightened you were. You took in another breath, still wet blood seepeing down your thigh and soaking into your panties. Despite everything telling you to do otherwise, though, you parted your legs further, showing him the mess of blood between your legs.

"Hah..." 

With a slow, drawn-out motion, his fingers shifted from your thighs and the soft folds of your pelvis, to the soaking creases of your underwear, gently pulling the wet fabric away from your sticky labia as he stared intently at the mess. A hungry grin painted his darkened features as he looked at it, his eyes hungry and inquisitive as he smeared the blood even further down your trembling thigh.

"It looks like you leaked quite a bit." He said softly, placing himself between your legs. "It must have been all day, right? All day...you leaked all day long and didn't even try to ask me for help..." He ran his tongue over his teeth again as he leaned in a little closer, his face inches from yours. "Now...how about we get you out of those dirty panties once and for all, and I can have a proper taste, hm?"

"T-Taste?" You said quickly, sitting up.

"Well, if you've been leaking all day, I do think it is only fair to taste what you've offered up." He replied with an easy smirk. 

You didn't have the chance to react before he was dipping his head and running his tongue over your hole, delving and devouring almost immediately as soon as he got the taste of your blood.

"Oh...ohhhh," You gasped, your once wide eyes sliding shut as you felt his lips trail against your labia, your clit, completely undeterred by the blood that was still oozing from inside of you as he kept your legs parted forcibly. "Oh god, Fox..." Your gasps faded into moans as you pressed your head back against the couch and raised your hips against his tongue.

He was tasting you, well and truly, and what's more, he was enjoying it.

Almost as much as you were.

He pulled back just a touch to breathe hotly against your cunt, his tongue lightly dancing over your clit as you heard him chuckle and moan quietly, raggedly, too overwhelmed by his own pleasure to try and intimidate you. 

"You taste perfect," He mumbled softly, pressing another deep kiss to your hole, his sharp teeth grazing your skin as he tasted you. "Oh, if you only knew how much your master has been wanting this~"

You moaned softly, letting your hips tilt upwards a touch as he dragged your body down against his, letting him devour you just the way he wanted, his fingers kneading your hips as he did so, digging into the soft folds of your tummy, your thighs. 

You couldn't resist reaching down and pushing a hand through his hair, rubbing against the base of his fox ears as they twitched at the motion. You were relieved that he let you do something that invasive, and even surprised when he moaned a little and pressed against you even more, pushing his tongue deeper and tasting every drop of new blood oozing from you. 

"Fox...ahhn..." You groaned, wrapping a leg around his slim shoulders, letting you rock up against his devouring mouth a little more. You probably looked a mess but like you cared. He looked at you like a piece of art, a fine meal, so that's how you felt.

"Please keep going..." You begged, squeezing your eyes shut. "Never stop, never stop..." 

"Ah," He gasped raggedly, glaring up at you with eyes blown wide with hunger and desperation, his face smeared with blood and his sharp teeth stained with the same. "You have NO idea what you're asking of me, pet…”

Body Modification (Strade/MC)

"You know that you can just buy these online?" 

Strade's voice was casual, almost playful, as if he was talking about what he had for lunch and not vaguely threatening you (as he often did), as he used his knife to slice open a package he was holding, sifting through it with a raised brow. 

"They don't even ask for a license or anything. Wild!" He continued with a laugh, fishing out what looked like...a set of needles. 

He held it up to the flickering light of the basement, his gaze scrutinous before he looked towards you again with a smirk. 

"I can only imagine the amount of adrenaline-hopped kids shoving these things into themselves. That's what we used to do, anyway."

You swallowed hard, looking from his eyes and to the pack of needles, sparkling and silver in the light, your brows knitting together in concern.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice unnervingly soft.

"Hmph," He let out another laugh, an (unfortunately) attractive huff through his nose before going back to his drawer of tools to look for something, a clatter of metal and tools loud in the small room as he sifted through it. "You don't have enough holes yet~"

Your face flushed bright red and you felt your brain start to short-circuit just thinking about what he could be planning, shivering and trembling in the cool air of the basement.

"S-Strade..." You muttered, trying so hard to stay calm but barely able to stop your teeth from chattering. "What are you doing?"

"Shaking already, eh?" He said with a little click of his tongue, fishing out a sharp pair of pliers and facing you again. "Don't be such a baby. You've gone through way worse than this."

You were silent as he paced across the basement and to the support beam that you were tied to (as you often were), staring down at you hungrily.

"You know, I like it when you're less docile..." He continued, his voice a little softer as he lowered himself down to one knee and yanked your shirt up your chest in a clenched fist, dragging you closer to his own body and exposing your breasts all in one go. "You're a lot more fun. I like when you're fun."

"Mmf..." You shivered a little more, yanking at your bondage, as he set down his tools and reached forward to run his thumb over one of your nipples, watching indulgently as the little nub hardened and swelled. 

You took in a sharp inhale and bit your lip hard to keep from making any more sounds, trembling as your chest felt all the more sensitive.

It felt so... forbidden. And so good.

If Strade's intent was to torture you, he was failing spectacularly.

"Feel good?" Strade asked after a moment, leaning in to bring his face closer to yours. "You can admit it, you know. I like making you feel good, too." 

"Nnnh..." You gasped again when Strade started to circle his thumb around your nipple, stimulating the sensitive spot and clearly relishing in just how much you were reacting to it, your breathing growing heavier and your mouth open with each desperate gasp. "P-Please..."

"Please?" Strade raised a brow with a slight smirk, gently pinching the swelling nub, between his thumb and pointer finger. “Please what, fraulein? Please keep going, please stop?” 

You barely even registered what he was saying, hissing through your teeth as your eyes squeezed shut and you pressed yourself closer to Strade’s larger body. You were so lost to sensation now, so caught up in the burning pleasures, your body trembling as Strade's fingers worked on your chest.

"Mm, I think that's pretty good..." Strade mumbled to himself quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, before taking the pair of pliers in hand and closing the metal teeth on your sensitive nipple.

The second you felt the tight squeeze of the pliers, your eyes shot open and a harsh cry was forced from your lips, the pain causing your body to instinctively try to pull away from Strade's, though the support beam prevented you from going anywhere.

Strade didn't stop himself from giving the pliers a teasing little tug, a mean smile on his face as you screamed, a tear rolling down your cheek at the pain. It certainly wasn't the worst thing you had felt, not by a long shot, but even so, it was hideously painful.

"Very nice. Very nice, indeed." Strade hummed with an indulgent smile. "Now..." After swapping the pliers to the hand still clutching your shirt (yanking your sore breast up a little higher), he reached over to the set of needles and fished one out of the little baggie, the point sharp and dangerous as he lined it up with the swollen flesh of your nipple. 

Your body immediately went still at the sharp point, your wide eyes unblinking as you stared at him, waiting for the pain.

"I always liked piercings," He said casually, like he was just having a regular conversation. "I dated a guy in my twenties who was covered with them, you know, he was this alternative queer in Berlin with piercings and tattoos all over, and they'd always make me crazy. Of course, that was before I killed him." He laughed again, pressing a little more against the needle, a bead of blood welling to the surface as he did so. “He was the perfect guy, then.”

You grit your teeth together, still pulling at your bondage and waiting for the pain, but still, there was nothing...nothing.

"You're already pretty close to perfect in my eyes," Strade continued, with just a touch of affection in his hungry eyes, affection that might have been genuine had he not been threatening you with a needle. "Let's get you even closer, hm?"

He didn't bother counting you in, nor waiting for your guard to drop fully before he pushed the needle into the reddened flesh.

You yelped loudly in pain as blood instantly welled up to the wound and trailed down your breast. Your body was shaking and fighting against the ropes, though to no avail. 

He knew better now not to tie you down so loosely.

After fishing for what looked like a slim metal hoop from his bag of tools, he then pulled the needle from your flesh and slid the open hoop through the freshly bleeding hole with a surprising amount of care, his fingers twisting on the delicate metal ball at the end of the hoop like he'd done it before.

And maybe he had.

"There!" Strade pulled his hands back with a triumphant grin, admiring the new piercing that adorned your shuddering chest. "It's pretty cute...and your little tits are all puffy and sensitive now, eh?" He then teased, leaning forward and running a blood-spotted finger over the new piercing through your chest, stimulating it while it was now so painfully sensitive.

You couldn't answer, your muscles spasming in pleasure (in pain) as Strade's fingers trailed over the new jewelry, his other hand reaching up to palm your unmarred breast. 

The pain was still there, because of course it was, but it was now just another way to heighten the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through your body.

"Hhhh..." You moaned softly (to Strade’s evident albeit deeply pleased surprise) as he touched you, starting to stimulate your other nipple with a hungry look. "D-do you think you should... do the other one?"

"Mm, I think that's an excellent idea, fraulein ," Strade purred with a broader smile, running his tongue along your jaw, his wet teeth pressing a smile into your neck.

"Let's get right to it."

Exhibitionism (Ren/MC)

You stood still on the train carriage, crammed between bodies squeezed in tight like sardines in a can, holding onto the hanging strap like it was the only thing that would keep you from falling, keep you upright.

In the months of getting to know each other, you had earned enough of Ren's trust for him to let you out of the house on what he called a 'date' - a day out in the city where he would treat you to anything you wanted, just so long as you behaved exactly as he wanted. 

You couldn’t deny that a part of you was a little excited by the prospect.

However, that was naturally superseded by the parts of you that were incredibly anxious about giving him that much control over you. The control that he so desperately craved.

Ren kept an authoritative hand on your hip all the while, his tail idly swishing to and fro behind him (in the small space you were both crammed into) as he scrolled through his phone, ever casual, occasionally chuckling at jokes on his timeline and playing videos on silent. When you were standing so close to him, you could see a playful smile on his face.

"Oh, we're not too far now," He said, looking towards you as he clicked off the social media app he was browsing and through his phone menu. "Just a couple more stops and we'll be in the town center. I can't believe how busy the train is today!"

"Heh, yeah," You forced out a chuckle, your face taking on a reddish hue as he slid his hand lower, threading his thumb through the belt loop of your jeans and pulling you a little closer to his side. You had a bit of a height advantage, and that was more obvious the closer you stood, when his pointed ears barely grazed your cheek, but that didn't stop you from ducking your head down submissively as he pulled you close, trying to make yourself look smaller. "It's, um, it's pretty busy. But it’s a Friday, so…"

"Yeah," He mused with a low drawl, as he brought up an app screen you didn't recognise and began to fiddle with it, toying with settings and other things (written in Japanese). "We should probably be careful with what we say."

Without warning, you began to feel a soft, albeit deceptively powerful buzzing, pressed right up against a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and against your swollen clit. 

You had seen this coming.

He'd been torturing you with this particular toy all morning, and had only conceded to the date on the second condition that he could keep it inside of you while you were out in public, visible to the entire public. And, despite how much you had argued against that condition, you had ultimately relented to his whims, out of your own sheer desperation to leave the house.

You did your best not to flinch, nor to let your expression give away the surprising (and deeply pleasurable) buzzing against your cunt, lest anyone else in the packed train carriage clock what the two of you were up to. You instead reached down and grabbed his elbow tightly, digging your nails into him through his jacket and thick coat.

Ren smiled a little broader and put his phone away in his pocket, humming to himself innocently, as if he was none the wiser, as he reached down to the short hem of your skirt (another condition to you leaving the house, though this one was more of a gentle suggestion than anything else) and slid his palm against your arse, giving it a gentle squeeze, teasing you and winding you up even more.

You tried not to flinch at that either, though you were sure that your flushed cheeks were giving the game away to anyone who might have been in the know.

"We're going to have a lot of fun today," Ren murmured, letting his head rest against your shoulder, his tail wagging a little slower and gradually curling around your legs, comforting when he was (kind of) the opposite. "Because I know you're going to do as I say, aren't you, sweetie?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded, biting your lip as he squeezed your arse a little harder, one of his claws toying with the lace of your panties. 

"Full sentence, please," Ren replied, his smile spreading into a sharp grin as he put his hand back in his pocket and increased the buzzing, making you suppress a little shriek and clutch onto his arm tighter. "Use your words."

"Ngh..." You pressed your face into the crown of his head, the fur on his ears tickling your cheek. Your groan had been enough to alert someone’s attention, a guy with his headphones in, but he clearly didn’t think much of your distress when he looked back at his phone. "I'm...I'm going to do as you say."

"Good pet,” He then whispered, keening up on his tiptoes to kiss your cheek. “I just know you’re going to do so well.”

Watersports (Lawrence/MC)

"NGH!"

You grunted harshly as Lawrence tackled you down to the ground, forcing your back hard against the ground as their heavier body pinned you still and caged you down beneath them. 

"Shhh shh shh shh shhh...."

Though their face was flushed and a little frightened-looking (as if they had never done anything like this before), Lawrence shushed you in a quiet, almost sleepy tone, as they leaned forward, their breath shockingly cool against your skin, your cheeks, your lips. 

"Don't fight me, it's so much better if you don't fight, trust me," They asserted, still keeping their voice quiet as they sat up on their knees, keeping you pinned down with their hips and their strong arms pressing their weight into your shoulders. "This can be easy, we can make this so easy , if you don't fight."

"Fuck you," You muttered through grit teeth as you tried to wrestle up against them, trying to free yourself from their strong grip on your body.

"L-Language," They replied with a dirty look, as if you had offended them, before they swallowed hard, their Adam's apple bobbing against their pale throat, and pushed themselves to their feet, suddenly standing tall and towering above you.

Planting a bare foot right at the center of your chest and pressing most of their weight down onto it, Lawrence kept holding you down against the ground, their pale grey eyes locked on yours. Their breathing became shallow and quicker-paced as they stared at you hard, and even down on the ground, you got a sense that they were trembling, still scared of what they were capable of.

It would do you no good to fight against them or to swear at them, but you couldn't help your anger. 

"I, ah..." They started, making an attempt to sound nonchalant as they pushed their shaking fingers through their hair. "I think you should just...relax. A-And calm down, a little."

"Where do you get off telling me to fucking relax?" You demanded, your voice louder than theirs (which they clearly didn't like, from the way their eyes darted to the door of their apartment nervously) as you continued to fight against their body. "Why don't you relax and let me go, you fucking psycho!?"

" Psycho? "

Lawrence's eyes narrowed as they spoke, an expression that gave away their growing anger and annoyance. 

"Now that's just...unnecessary..." They continued to murmur, eyes flitting to the side as they pressed a little more weight into your chest and listened to the gasping wheeze you let out as a response, reaching up to grab and claw at their ankle. "You...you really don't wanna say things like that to me..."

You swallowed hard as your breath felt heavier and harder to get out of your lungs, your teeth gritting and your eyes fluttering at the pressure. 

They could have broken one of your ribs from this angle if they wanted to, quite easily in fact. 

You had to wonder why they weren't doing that yet.

"Or...or what?" You replied through your grit teeth, one eye squeezing shut as another surge of pressure was pressed into your chest, testing your luck beyond all better judgment not to.

Lawrence was quiet for a good moment, their eyes locked on yours before darting to the side nervously, their chapped bottom lip between their teeth. They were still breathing heavily and slowly. 

"I could hurt you." The pressure of their weight on your chest was more intense now, and they let out a brief, quiet growl. “I could really hurt you, and I would enjoy doing it too.”

"You're already hurting me," You replied through your tight frown.

"Am I...? Am I, really?"

Lawrence tilted their head to the side slightly, an expression that was almost mocking and teasing without intending to be (though you really had no idea of Lawrence's true intentions right now, their pale face was so blank and devoid of any true expression).

Their voice was still quiet, almost thoughtful and dreamy, but it was obvious that Lawrence no longer saw you as a person when they stared down at you with their doe wide, grey eyes.

No, you were more of an animal now, a pest to be gotten rid of, a bug to be squashed.

A plant to be plucked from the garden.

You swallowed hard and your body began to thrash when, after a long moment of quiet between the two of you, Lawrence started to tuck down their sweatpants and revealed their naked and...worryingly hard and lengthy cock, without saying a word.

Lawrence smiled, but there was no joy or light-heartedness behind their expression. It was a dead kind of smile that reminded you of a corpse, an ill-fated humour without feeling behind it, their grin refusing to touch their narrowed eyes with any degree of amusement. 

They then shifted their weight once more, easing up on your chest just slightly to focus a little more attention on prying their hefty cock from their sweatpants and holding it above your eyes. 

They were breathing heavily now, and they spoke softy but without any of the previous fear or hesitation, as if they knew now that they had complete control over you. 

And they certainly did, at least for the time being.

"You know...it's so rude of me, but I didn't offer you anything to drink."

Your eyes shot wide.

"Lawrence..." You said, your voice partway between a warning and a plea. "Don't-"

Though you were predictably cut off by a splash of disturbingly warm fluid on your face. 

Lawrence let out a low chuckle as the warm (disgustingly warm, despite how cool their breath had been on your skin before) liquid hit your face, but they said nothing about it, not even to gloat or goad when you immediately squeezed your eyes shut and jerked your head to the side with a shout. 

They only shifted their weight again, watching with a curious, albeit indulgent look as the dark yellow fluid ran down your skin, repulsive and demeaning, and stained the collar of your shirt.

"Is this what you wanted?" They asked, their tone dripping with contempt as the stream finally relented, the smell of ammonia thick and heavy in the humid air of the apartment. "Ah, I see now...you're one of those types that have to be forced to behave. Isn't that right?"

You stared up at them with a grimace, despite the dark flush to your cheeks, shaking your head to throw off the drops of fluid the best you could, cringing as you felt it cling to your skin and soak in your fucking hair, god-

"Are you going to be good?" Lawrence then asked with another condescending tilt of their head, the start of a smile growing on their face.

"Mph," You bit your lip again, peering up wearily towards them, drops of fluid still clinging to your eyelashes. "Y-Yeah...I'll be good."

"Good."

Gags (Strade/MC)

The fan blades turned slowly above your head, creaking and swaying in the hot air of the summer night, yellowing from age and dotted with little mold spots that nobody thought to take care of or attend to. 

Sort of like you. 

You were in a cheap motel, strange and far from any sense of home that you might have had, ridding you of familiarity or comfort you never thought you’d associate with his house. Strade had some business to attend to in the States (no doubt to do with the shitstains that ran the website he streamed on and revenue and royalties and whatnot) and he didn't trust you and Ren enough to be left alone together.

So, Ren stayed home and you stayed with him. You just hoped that there wouldn't be any animosity from the younger man when you came home.

If you came home. 

It had been a quiet night of pay-per-view movies and takeout pizza that left a grease stain behind on the cardboard and cheese that stuck to the roof of your mouth. It was the kind of food that you loved when you were younger, when you were a plucky college student who went out drinking with friends and strangers, and needed carbs to soak in the booze, lest it spill out of you.

But you weren't that person anymore. You didn't even know what kind of person you were.

The kind of person that let this happen to them, you guessed.

"You can't scream and you can't make any noise, or it's just going to get worse. But, I'm going to give you a fighting chance, okay? Because I'm just so fucking fond of you. "

Strade's voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he pressed the thick rubber ballgag between your teeth forcefully, like he was worried about possibly disturbing your neighbors in the other hotel rooms and calling attention to the two of you. He kept you pinned still to the bed with a heavy knee against your back, and though you thrashed and fought against him, you knew that he would ultimately win whatever brawl you had.

He always won.

The rubber tasted sour against your tongue and the leather belt, pulled tight around your head and buckled at the nape of your neck, was stiff and 'unlived in', and you guessed that he had bought it fresh that day in preparation for this.

With a low grunt, he pulled the belt one notch tighter, forcing the rubber ball deeper into your mouth and the leather to dig in uncomfortably on either side of your lips.

" Wunderschon ," He smirked as he took his knee from your back, satisfied that you didn't immediately try to move once he permitted you your freedom. "And I don't think I have to worry about you screaming now, either."

"Ughk..." You groaned into the gag, as he tangled his fingers in your hair and jerked your head upwards, forcing your eyes to meet again. While yours were no doubt hazy by your newly submissive headspace, his looked fond, almost affectionate.

"Mm, very cute," He crooned, reaching forward to press two fingers against the rubber ball and trailing the touch downwards, toying with your plush bottom lip. "I don't usually care about this kind of thing. Ropes, cuffs, it's a means to an end with me, but, ah..." He tilted his head just a touch as a thick stream of drool pooled from your parted lips, down your chin and coating his fingers with shining, wet silver. "You, meine liebe ? You're good enough to eat right now."

You let out a surprised grunt as Strade shoved you back against the bed, your head hitting the pillows and your back on the mattress, before shifting between your legs and yanking at the waistband of your jeans, not even giving himself a moment to unbutton or unzip them as he tore them down your trembling thighs and tossed them across the motel room.

A lot of things could just be done with brute force, and that was something you had come to quickly learn with Strade.

"Speaking of..." He let out a soft chuckle as he placed a large hand on your belly and used the other to yank your panties down with an equal amount of force, to the degree that you swore you heard a tear. "I think I'll do just that."

Any protests you might have said petered into desperate moans and whimpers into the thick rubber as he lowered his head and dragged his tongue over your cunt, immediately seeking the tight, warm heat of your hole as he kept you pinned still beneath him, a meal ready to be devoured, a helpless victim ready to be taken advantage of.

You didn't quite have the luxury of calling yourself helpless anymore though. 

He had taken that away from you. Just as he had taken so many things.

"Ghk-" You made another attempt to speak, though you couldn't manage much but a quiet vocalization, a helpless gurgle of pain and pleasure as you rocked your hips up against his ravenous mouth, desperately seeking his probing tongue despite how much you knew you shouldn't.

Evidently pleased by your jutting hips, he moaned deeply, running his tongue broadly across your cunt before focusing his attention on your swollen clit and pressing two thick fingers inside of you as he tongued and nipped and bit the sensitive little bud, just to hear you try to squeal and cry into the gag.

"Mm, I love all those desperate little noises," He growled, pressing a hungry kiss to your soft thigh, his teeth bruising and biting and leaving more evidence of his conquest over your body. "I might even like them a little more when you're gagged. They just sound so needy and pathetic, I can’t get enough."

Your face flushed bright red at the insult, though that only made him laugh and press another deep kiss to your cunt, worming his tongue into what little space was left around his fingers (which had taken to rubbing against a particularly sensitive spot inside of you that always drove you crazy). 

You breathed out heavily through your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried desperately to chase after more touches, more of the burning hot pleasure, however bad it made you feel after the fact.

You just wanted to feel good. Was that such a bad thing?

You didn't think so.

“ Ich möchte dich verschlingen, ” He whispered hotly against your skin, biting down on your thigh again before he pulled away and pressed the hard bulge in his slacks against the warm, wet space permitted by your cunt. “ Meine fleisch, meine liebe .”

He didn't even bother pulling himself out of his slacks as he rutted against you, his lip between his teeth as he stared down at you hungrily, your flushed cheeks, your watering eyes, your parted lips drooling down your chest and making the white tank covering your chest wet and almost see through.

"God, if you could look at yourself now," He growled, pressing his face against your neck and biting down, similarly hard, on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, the space where your collar didn’t cover. "If you could see what I turned you into ."

You whimpered helplessly, opening your eyes to tiny slits to peer up at him wearily, groaning into your gag.

"Fucking slut," He smirked, running his tongue along his teeth as he bit you, and bit you, and bit you and bit you and bit you and bit you- " MY fucking slut. There was no way I was going to leave you with Ren while I was gone...let him claim what was mine the second he had the chance to. No way."

Your eyes widened just a touch at that particular reveal, before he reached up with his free hand to grab your face roughly, his big hands squeezing your cheeks and keeping your eyes glued to his. 

"You're mine," He growled, his voice intensely serious. "Mine to hurt, to fuck, to kiss, to kill, to fucking love, however I fucking want to. Never forget that, ja?”

Maybe he had been granting you a mercy by gagging you. 

So you couldn’t admit your love as easily as he could, in spite of how much you wanted to.

You nodded helplessly, all the same, in place of an actual confession. “Good girl,” He murmured, his voice a little lower as his rutting hips slowed, just a tad. “Such a good girl, fraulein. A good girl for me. Just for me”

Lingerie/Panties (Ren/MC)

"Aw, you look so cute!"

Ren cooed excitedly, raising his hands up to his mouth to cover his beaming smile, his tail wagging up frantically behind his small body.

You grimaced tightly as you stood still in front of the young man, crossing your arms over your chest (trying not to push it forward or expose your cleavage too much) and shifting uncomfortably as you shivered in the relative warmth of his bedroom, your body barely covered by the skimpy lingerie he had given you (coerced you into).

"I almost can't bear it," He said as he bit his lip, barely suppressing a giggle as he stood forward to admire you more closely, his golden eyes gleaming. "You fill it out so well! All your curves and slopes," He tilted his head as he looked at you a little more intently. “You really look so perfect.”

"Asshole," You murmured, trying to adjust your position to make your outfit sit a little worse on your body, shifting your hips and dropping your chest so it was less obviously pressed against the... cat-shaped hole in your bralette. God, he was truly unbearable sometimes. "Where have you put my other underwear? I really don't want to walk around like this all night, when it’s so cold..."

"Mm, but you know I hate it when you're all covered up," He replied with a little pout, standing a little closer and idly toying with the intricate bows that kept the bralette pulled tightly around your chest and up your shoulders. "You don't really need to wear clothes anyway, not around me. Ha, how silly of me," He laughed softly again and leaned in even closer, running the tip of his nose against your jaw. "Pets don't wear clothes, you shouldn’t have been wearing them at all~"

"I'm not-" You squeaked, a flush to your cheeks and an uncomfortable burning in your core, trying to take a step backward before the edge of the bed hit the back of your thighs. It made you shiver again. "I'm not your pet..."

"Oh, are you really that cold, sweetie?" Ren said softly, completely ignoring your protest as his hands reached down to your full, scarred hips to idly toy with the matching bows that rested on your hips. "I'll have to keep the house extra warm for you then...although," He giggled again, reaching up with one hand to run a claw over the little, pierced nub of your nipple which was pressing up against the bralette. "I have to admit, it would be pretty cute to see you shivering all the time. See your cute little nipples hard all the time, too..."

Your face flushed in embarrassment as Ren drew closer and touched you so intimately. You knew that you should push him away, you knew you should stop all of this, you knew that...but part of you didn't want to, part of you wanted to let Ren do whatever he pleased with you. 

You didn't know when you had stopped fighting against this. You didn't know when he had broken you down so far.

Would you ever get your old self back? And did you even want it back?

"Do you like the idea of that?" Ren then asked, his voice soft and crooning and gentle as he gently pressed your body down to sit against the bed, so that he was taller than you (for once), his ears twitching and his tail wagging. "Me buying you pretty outfits and keeping you dressed up and warm and taken care of all the time?"

"Mph," You did your best to suppress a soft groan, looking down at the floor to avoid Ren's gaze. You struggled to maintain your composure, your voice trembling as you spoke up again, your anger gradually dissipating more and more when he spoke to you so sweetly, when he promised you such nice things. "Yeah...take care of me. Please."

"There we go," He purred with a triumphant little smile, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, making you flinch and whimper. "There's my good pet, giving up for me."

You swallowed hard, your eyes flitting back down to the ground as your cheeks flushed a little more, humiliated and defeated, like even your body was conceding that he had taken every sense of humanity from you, and had done it so easily, too.

You would be good, you would wear the outfits he wanted, the lacy frills, the fetishistic underwear, the costumes...you were tired of being bad.

You wanted to be good. You wanted him to be good to you.

He gave you another kiss on the cheek before reaching up to stroke your hair reassuringly.

"I'll get you something warmer to wear, hm? And then I can make you something warm for dinner." He said softly, a gentle suggestion that you knew there was no chance of arguing around.

"Mm...yeah, thank you." You nodded, glancing up with a little, submissive smile. "That sounds nice."

Bondage (All/MC)

🥀

"Keep still, I can't have you moving around like this."

Lawrence's voice was a low growl as they wound duct tape tightly around your ankles and down the backs of your feet, each movement too erratic and thoughtless for them to make sure they weren't hurting you or burning into your skin with the thick, tight tape. 

You yelped and squirmed as best you could when they pushed you onto your front, first winding the tape around your knees (thusly pinning your thighs together too) and then forcing your arms into an uncomfortable, prayer-hands position against the sloping concave of your back, before winding the tape around your wrists and palms and pinning them there, rendering you totally helpless as they kept going with their uncomfortable bondage. 

Their breathing was getting a little ragged the more they bound you, and when they pressed up against your body, tearing off a strip of tape and laying it flat against your forearm, you could feel their hard cock through their sweatpants, rocking up against your backside. 

"There...there," They murmured very softly, finally setting the duct tape down and letting their now unoccupied hands gently hold your hips, keeping you still, stopping your squirming. "That's...all I wanted to do. You understand that, right? I just..." They trailed off as their hands trailed down your hips, down your plush thighs pushed together by the bondage, down to your bound feet. "I just needed you to stop moving...drawing attention, just in case someone heard."

You took in a shaking breath against the cushion they had forced your head down into, trembling as you felt their thumbs run down the sensitive soles of your feet, quickly pulling back when they curled, when you let out a helpless whimper at their curious touches.

"Please let me go," You whined softly as their hands went back up to your hips, pressing themselves against you again, their cock still hard as they rocked your body into the bed. "Please, I promise I won't tell a soul about this."

"I know you won't," They replied, though their voice was a little more rasped and thick with pleasure when they found a warm spot against your backside, against the tight crotch of your jeans, to rock up against. "Because I'm not going to let you go. I...I don't even know what I want to do with you, but I know that much. I can't let you go, now." They draped themselves over your back then, pressing their chest against your shoulders, one hand staying on your hips as the other reached up to pull your hair away from your neck, so they could look at you. "I want you much too badly to let that happen."

You can feel your cheeks flush darkly as you squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip as you felt theirs press against the exposed skin of your neck in a sweet kiss, your bound body shivering and trembling as they continued to rut their hips against your ass, despite the gentleness from their trailing hands and lips.

You were trying to will it away, trying to get away from this situation, but you couldn't. And what was worse, your core was beginning to stir, responding to Lawrence's movements.

"You're beautiful," Lawrence murmured hotly against your skin, digging their shaking fingers into your hips as they tried to push harder against you, making your legs tremble and struggle to hold them up. "I...I had to have you, you know? It was like a compulsion, and I..." They attempt a weak little chuckle, nestling their nose into your hair and taking a deep inhale, smelling you. "I know it sounds crazy. I know I AM crazy, but..."

"Y-You're not crazy, Lawrence..." You stammered softly, your fists curling at the small of your back, beneath the tight duct tape. "I don't think you're crazy. Just, please, let me go and I can help you, I can get you help-"

"Ah," They cut you off as their body stilled against yours, before they let out a little breath and pulled themselves away from you. "Ah...of course you'd lie to me. I should have expected that. But...well, that's okay."

They reached over for the duct tape again, a sight that made you immediately tense up and start to struggle and squirm.

"I'm not looking for you to validate me, or validate who I am," They said softly, taking your shoulder in a strong hand and forcing you onto your back, looking at your face with dull eyes. "I know who I am. I know what I'm capable of," Their grey eyes were so blown with...arousal? Anger? You weren't sure. "But you don't know what I'm capable of, do you?"

They lowered their face close to yours, their blonde hair falling over their shoulders and tickling your burning cheeks.

A mocking smile came to their face.

"You don't know what I could do to you, how I could hurt you, how I could kill you, if I really wanted to. You don't know any of that." They murmured softly, taking another slow inhale of your scent before they sat up again, and ripped the tape away from the roll. "On second thought, I don't need you to talk. I might like you better silent, actually."

You didn't have the opportunity to argue against what they were saying before they grabbed your cheeks in a rough grip and laid the strip of tape over your lips, taking the time to wind the roll around your head a few times, catching your hair in the tight stickiness and making it all the more painful.

"That's better," They muttered softly, their voice growing even more ragged as they tore off the strip and took your cheeks in hand again, staring down at you, their gaze growing even hungrier and more flushed. "Yes, that's much better. That'll do nicely."

They smiled again, before bringing their lips down to your gagged ones, giving you a sweet kiss.

You whimpered beneath your gag, squeezing your eyes shut, the only movement you were even capable of now.

"I'll keep you like this now. Just as I want you."

🦊

Ren's hands were careful and considered as he knotted the pale pink ropes down your chest, his claws delicately catching and grazing against your skin in a way you guessed was deliberate, hungry for bloody, little wounds that marred your skin and made you his.

Having kept you in the hideously girly, pink lingerie set from the previous day, Ren wanted to make things a little more intense by presenting you with a matching, pastel pink bondage set from the top shelf of his closet, intricate, leather cuffs for your wrists and ankles, a blindfold, a ballgag, and a coil of rope to top it all off.

For now, though, your wrists were cuffed behind your back as he tied the intricate shibari tie, a tutorial on his phone screen nearby to make sure he was doing everything right. 

All things considered, Ren's dexterity and focus were pretty remarkable, as he seemed to be doing everything correctly, pulling the exact right knots into the exact right positions and making sure it didn't bite into your skin too much, still prioritising your comfort over anything else for the time being. 

"How does it feel?" He asked with a smile, his voice as mellow as ever as he took the trailing ropes in hand and gave it a little yank, making sure it was secure and the knots were taut and tight. "I've actually never tried this before...you have to tell me how it's feeling, okay?"

"Okay," You murmured softly with a quick nod, as he slowly pulled the ropes between your legs, trembling a little as he pulled them tight against the (slightly damp) gusset of your panties. The pressure against your cunt was enough to make you pull at your cuffs. "Ah, y-yeah, it's fine...it feels fine." 

His hunger was evident when he looked at your body, but you still had the impression that, though he clearly wanted to touch you, to reach out and feel you, feel the heat of your panties against the ropes, he was resisting the urge to for now, knowing that it would be disrespectful to do so while you were in such a delicate headspace.

"Hey. Don't try to escape, okay?" He warned softly, his tone chiding and matter-of-fact, like he was scolding a child and not...well, talking down what was effectively a hostage. "I'm being gentle with you for the time being, so...don't make me regret that."

"I-I'm not," You replied quickly, letting your bound wrists fall still as he shifted behind you and pulled the ropes against your cunt harder, like it was a little punishment for your indiscretion. "I'm not trying to, I won't try to...s-sorry."

"It's alright..." There was an obvious smile on Ren's face as he pulled the ropes around to your front and through the knots down your chest, pulling them taut in the pattern of a tortoiseshell (a design you recognised very quickly from the various comics and cartoons he read and watched and insisted weren't pornographic). "You're behaving now, you're being a good girl for me, and I appreciate that a lot. It's a lot more fun when you're good, isn't it?"

You nodded shyly, bashfully, swallowing a little harder as the ropes of the harness were pulled a notch tighter and fed into the quasi-collar of rope around your neck, which he quickly knotted to keep secure. 

Ren's smile grew from one of anticipation to one that was slightly more malicious and desirous as he moved back in front of you, crawling around you on his knees and staring down hungrily at the tight ropes digging into your skin, making your flesh bulge around each of the harsh lines of pale, pink rope.

"So cute..." He said softly, leaning in close, his tail wagging erratically as his ears twitched. "So pretty..." He stared at all the places where the rope had bitten into your delicate skin, relishing in the swelling and harsh redness around the knots. "You look so perfect for me like this, pet. So, so pretty and trussed up and...hah..."

You took in a shuddering gasp, raising your chin a little as he lowered his face down to the crook of your neck, almost scenting you, the tufting fur of his ears caressing your cheeks as he did so. He pressed his cheek against yours for a moment, sniffing your hair as it trailed down your shoulders, the proximity making it that much harder for him to contain himself, evident from the way he quickly straddled one of your spread thighs and began to rut down against it.

"Can I do the rest?" He mumbled hotly against your cheek, panting a little as he reached up to grope your chest through the bralette while he palmed himself. "Like, the gag and the blindfold? Can I use those...please?"

"R-Ren," You squeaked, biting your lip with a little whimper as he pressed himself against you even harder, his chest against yours, his rapid breaths hot on your skin. "I don't...I don't want you to use those things on me..."

"It'll be okay." He insisted, a little frantically. "I'll be right here looking after you, and I'll be good, I promise, I will." He pressed himself against you again, gasps against your neck, his movements slightly jerky as he rutted faster and harder, each motion almost feverish. Like he was going mad from his own desperation. "Please, please let me...I want to see it finished."

Unsure of what to say (if you could even say anything), you let out a shuddering breath, jerking your chin upwards even further and biting your lip to suppress more whimpers and cries of mercy as he continued to grope your chest and palm his cock.

"Tell me you want it," He whispered with a slightly manic edge to his voice, pressing his nose into your cheek as his tail kept wagging "Say it. Give away the power...before I take it from you. You know I will."

You swallowed hard with another little whimper.

"You've already taken it," You murmured softly, looking down towards your spread thighs, his rutting hips, as he reached for the cheap ballgag, not even bothering to wait for your reply, your consent for him to do as he wanted. "Why even give me the choice?"

"Yeah...I suppose you're right," Ren then said, his voice still surprisingly soft as he stopped rutting his hips for a moment. "I guess I just wanted to hear you say it. Feel like maybe...you wanted me like I want you." 

His softly spoken explanation was certainly counteracted as he pressed the ballgag (cheap and firm plastic, the leather already biting into your skin) against your lips roughly and slowly worked it in between your teeth as you whimpered and whined and tried to pull away from him.

"But it doesn't matter if you don't want me. Not really," He whispered, pressing his cheek against yours once again, inhaling deeply as he watched you helpless and unable to speak. "Not when I have you like this...I can pretend all I want, can't I?"

🔨

"NGH! Fucking cunt!"

You fought furiously underneath Strade's body, kicking legs and fighting fists, as he pressed both palms against your shoulders and pinned you down against the basement's cement floor with all of his weight, gritting his teeth and breathing outwards with exertion as his hair clung to his sweaty face.

You had managed to get a few punches in, probably bruising his cheek badly and bloodying up his nose as it streamed down his chin and dripped on your naked chest, which encouraged you to keep fighting, but he certainly wasn't making it easy, nor was he relenting on you in any way possible.

"Hah...I have to admit, I'm pretty impressed. Not many people put up so much of a fight however many months in!" He growled with a dirty grin, his accent especially thick, placing his palm in the middle of your chest and leaning up to wipe his bloody nose on the back of his hand before licking it clean with a dark look in his eyes down towards you. "But I really am going to need to you settle down before you do something you regret. You don't have a death wish, do you?"

"Fuck you," You spat, letting out a wheezing grunt of pain as your head fell back against the floor, your chest heaving under his weight, your lungs desperately trying to keep up with your fighting spirit. "Fuck you and fuck this fucking place, you fucking prick!"

"Hmph," He let out a huffed laugh through his nose as his brows furrowed thoughtfully. "Alright then, I'll play the way you want to." Strade then leaned back, sitting his full hips down against yours and reaching to his waist, fumbling around with his belt as if looking for something. "I'm gonna need those hands to keep still first though, okay, bud?"

"NGH!" You grimaced tightly as you attempted to punch up to his chest again, but not before he quickly grabbed your wrists in one strong hand, forcing them and your arms out straight in front of you, your shoulders straining from his strength, almost threatening to pop right out of their sockets as he forced your back off the ground with a mean pull. "FUCK, stop, STOP, they're gonna break-!"

"Ah, don't be dramatic," He said with a roll of his eyes, cuffing your wrists together tightly with a pair of metal handcuffs (where did he even get those?) and finally letting your back drop back down to the ground and letting your aching shoulders rest. "I'm not gonna break your shoulders, but those hands..."

Despite the blood still clinging to his skin, he grinned as he placed his palm against yours, admiring your trembling fingers as they curled into tight fists around the tight metal cuffs.

"I'd love to see those fingers bend backward . I wonder how far we can manage before they break ."

You shrieked again, your eyes wide and bloodshot as he held onto the thick chain of the handcuffs with one hand and grabbed the pointer finger of your right hand with the other, tilting it back, little by little, enough to get you desperately bucking and squirming underneath him. 

"Stop, stop, stop!" You pleaded, a spring of tears falling down your cheeks as the bone in your fingers started to strain. "I'm sorry, I won't fight back anymore, I won't, I promise!"

"Ah, nicht so stark jetzt , eh?" He smiled with a dark chuckle, raising a brow and tilting his head in a particularly condescending way. "Not so strong when I'm planning on breaking one of your pretty little fingers."

"Mph," You whimpered as he pulled back just a touch more, the bone in your knuckle popping against your skin painfully. "Strade, p-please, I'm sorry, I won't fight anymore, I won't..."

"You know..." He purred, his eyes softening just a touch though his smile didn't relent, even a little. "I don't think I believe you. I think I'm going to have to force you to submit to me."

With that, he pulled back your finger completely with a sickening snap , your finger breaking in his grip, an excruciatingly sharp pain shooting across your hand and down your arm, making you scream out loud.

"That's one," He said with an indulgent look, staring at your mangled finger as he took the middle finger in hand and yanked that back too. "Shall we say ' two for two '? You popped two punches at me, I get to break two of your fingers...what do you think?"

"I hate you," You mumbled with a pathetic sniffle, your breathing shaking and shuddering with sobs as you peered up towards him as tears clung to your fluttering eyelids. "I hate you so much..."

"Aw," He replied with a slight click of his tongue, tilting his head. "That's not nice to say, fraulein ...especially when I like you so much."

He yanked the second finger back forcibly with another painful snap , shooting just as much, if not more, pain through your arm. 

You screamed again, breathing heavily through your teeth, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried desperately hard to wrench your wrist from his vice-like grip. 

Strade looked down at your trembling, mangled hand, evidently satisfied, when he finally let go of your wrists and let you cradle your bound hands back to your chest with a huffed sob, a cruel smile forming on his bloody face.

"Look at how much you're trembling...you look so pathetic, liebling . And pretty hot, if I'm going to be honest." He chuckled again, wiping up his bloody nose again. "I'm enjoying this an awful lot."

He reached forward and gently brushed the sweaty hair out of your desperately flushed face, smiling broader as he did so.

"You really are adorable like this. I mean, you're in such a position to be played with, all you can do is beg for mercy. It's just so...enticing. Makes me want to do bad things to you."

You were silent as you peered up towards him, the pain still shooting down your trembling fingers and through your body. 

He had beaten any sense of fight out of you, as he so often did. 

It would have been unfair, if you weren't so fucking easy to beat down.

After a few moments of heavy silence, he reached for the chain of the handcuffs again, prying your hands away from your chest, but instead of torturing your fingers any further, he just rubbed his thumb against your palm encouragingly, gently, like he was trying to calm you down.

"I'm surprised...I thought you would be more of a challenge. But it really is quite thrilling to see you so helpless." 

Strade looked down at you and smiled mischievously, dipping his head to press a kiss to your unwounded knuckle.

"I think a night down here would do you good...remind you of your place, hm? What do you think?"

Emetophilia (Lawrence/MC)

"OH, GOD, LAW-!"

You managed a disgusted yelp, a repulsed grimace on your face as you attempted to wriggle away from Lawrence's hunched-up, still retching form, though their hold on your body stayed firm as ever as they spewed their guts out all over your naked body.

The vomit was thick and almost heavy as it weighed down on your skin, both in sensation and scent, since it smelled of beer, microwaved food, and rot, just like Lawrence always smelled. The greasy feel of it clung to your skin like slime or ectoplasm (if you could possibly know what those things felt like) and despite how still you were trying to be, it managed to drip down every sensitive area of your body and cover each of your shuddering curves. 

You cringed, looking down at your shaking stomach now painted in milky-yellow puke, trying to suppress the urge to vomit yourself.

"F-Fuck," They stammered, finally looking up towards you with an absolutely mortified expression on their face, their pale skin even paler (almost green in hue) as they reached up to cover their vomit-slicked lips with trembling fingers, looking like they were about ready to puke again. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me...I-I just couldn't hold it back, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." 

"It's okay, Law," You mumbled with an attempt at a smile, though you were still repulsed as you looked down at yourself, as the vomit slowly made its way down your stomach and towards Lawrence's still hips. "Just...just let me up and we can clean ourselves off, okay? And then we'll take care of you, okay?"

They said nothing for a moment, swallowing hard and wiping their mouth down their chin, their bottom lip pulled down and exposing pale gums, doe-grey eyes wide and panicked, before they...began to move again, pressing themselves deeper inside of you, since they were still as hard as they had been before, for whatever reason.

It felt good, of course, it did, but that didn't get rid of the fact that you were still absolutely covered in their vomit, and the more they moved, the more it moved with you.

"Lawrence," You then said, your voice taking on a note of firmness as you glared up at them, meeting their eyes with your own. "Let me up. Now." Your voice had lost a bit of its usual edge though, and your quivering lip wasn’t going to be intimidating anyone soon.

"Ah," They gasped softly, lowering their body back against yours, their chest pressing into the broad puddle of vomit still clinging to your own. "I...I want to keep going. I'm sorry I threw up, but I...I have to keep going. You understand?"

"Don't keep going!" You nearly shouted, outraged, though they quickly covered your mouth with a broad palm (god, was that the one they wiped their puke up with, fuck-), their other hand reaching round to fist in your hair and keep you pinned still.

"Be good," They growled softly, so quietly and dangerously, lowering their head down to your level, their lips inches from yours, so close you could still smell vomit on their breath. "I'm going to keep going...so enjoy it, or don't. I don't care which." 

You swallowed hard and whimpered against their palm as they continued to thrust up into you, keeping your head still.

"Be good...be good."

Barely seconds after removing their palm from your mouth, they kissed you hard, their sour tongue immediately pressing between your lips like an invasive species, and you were forced to taste the vile, acidic remnants of bile and vomit on their lips, their tongue. 

You squirmed and wriggled underneath them, trying to shove them away, your arms against their strong shoulders and broad chest, but your refusal to acclimate to what they wanted and the way you fought back against them seemed to only excite (and annoy) them more, as they started to thrust in and out of you again, with a new kind of vigor. 

The combined sensation of the crushing kiss and their tongue in your mouth, and the aching stretch of your cunt around their monstrous cock, pushing deep, so deep you felt it nudge against your fucking cervix, made you moan involuntarily against their lips and hungry mouth. You could hear every one of their pleased sounds too, as they fucked into you harder, pressing your chests together and coating themselves in their own vomit even more, like the two of you were bathing in it. 

It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up, but you couldn’t deny how arousing it was knowing that they'd fuck you, even when you were covered in their vomit and when you smelled like shit. 

You could feel your cunt clench tight around them as the burning shame in the pit of your stomach made you moan even louder against their invasive kiss. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, and, dizzy with sickening pleasure, you allowed yourself to press your vomit slick fingers into their long hair and let them fuck you as they wanted.

It’s sick. 

They were sick. 

But you were so, so much worse for wanting it so bad that it ached.

Collars (Strade/MC)

"I have a present for you."

Strade’s voice was deceptively cheerful, almost airy in how light it was, as he approached you early in the morning, while you were still nursing a cup of coffee and a slice of wholewheat toast (he had good taste in sourdough, if you were going to give him credit for anything).

"Oh?" You glanced up cautiously, taking another long sip of coffee as you toyed with the thick crust of your toast, letting it break and fall apart on your plate. You didn’t trust that any gift from him would go well for you, not even for a minute. But you weren’t stupid enough to say that. "What's the occasion?"

"Come on now, don't play dumb," He chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle your hair and curl his fingers into it, a fist at the base of your skull, giving your head a little shake as he did so (reminding you of the number of times he’d done it before, bashed your head into cement, brick, bone). "Don't tell me you've forgotten already. It's our anniversary!"

"Anniversary?" You mumbled, swallowing thickly and setting your mug down, your face tight with a grimace as he curled his fingers tighter and tighter into your hair (threatening, always threatening, always keeping you alert and ready). "It's...it's been a year? Really?" 

"Yes, yes," He said, smiling as he brought his stubbly chin down to the crown of your hand, his free hand going down to your shoulder and rubbing his palm down your bare arm, feeling your goosebumps. It's almost a hug and it almost makes you vomit. "How time flies, eh? It feels like just yesterday I was picking you up at that seedy bar and we were spending our first night together."

You swallowed again. 

You had to, or you might have been sick.

"But I'm getting off-topic," He mumbled into your hair, his hand stilling as he held your shoulder, his fingers gripping a little tighter, digging into your skin (as he had done so many times before, you had the scars to prove it, to prove how much he liked digging into you ). "I have a gift for you, to celebrate such a happy day. Would you like it?"

"Mm..." You hummed uncomfortably, biting your lip, suddenly not hungry, and thoroughly put off the idea of finishing your breakfast. "Sure...that sounds nice."

"Good," He praised you casually, carelessly, (just as he hurt you so causally and carelessly, treating you like a toy he could throw away if he so chose to) as he let go of your shoulder (and your hair) and stepped to your side, a gift in hand wrapped in brown paper and twine. It was so normal looking, you almost laughed. "Here we are. Just for you."

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip nervously (you had bit it hard enough that it started to sting, it was the least amount of pain you’ve felt in days) as you took the little package, your hands shaking. 

You half expected it to blow up in your hands, or to start oozing blood or moving, like he had cut off a still-living limb from a new playmate that had been doomed to rot in the basement and gifted it to you, but nothing like that happened.

He waited expectantly for you to unwrap the gift, and...well, you had no reason not to.

Not really.

You untied the twine and removed the brown paper from the gift, your fingers brushing up against the cool metal that lay underneath.

It was a collar. 

Brand new and polished to pristine condition, you made note of as you pulled it from the paper, and lightweight enough in your palm that it probably wouldn't have even left the bruises on your neck and shoulders that your current one did.

"Out with the old, and in with the new," He said with an amused laugh, crossing his arms over his chest proudly while you gaped at the new collar, before taking the controller for your current collar from his trouser pocket and giving the button a quick click. 

The painful, bone-achingly sharp shock didn't emit like you had expected it to (like it had so many times before, you hadn’t even done anything wrong, he just did it when he felt like it) , instead, the tight metal clasp popped open at the nape of your neck and you felt it loosen instantly.

You gasped and reached up to grab it quickly, so it wouldn't fall, before rubbing your bruised skin with a relieved groan, feeling the slightly scabby bumps that the sharp prongs from the shock mechanism had left behind at the top of your spine.

"Now, don't tell Ren, I really can’t have him getting jealous," He said with a teasing tone to his voice, pacing back to his spot behind you and removing the old collar, setting it down on the counter (no doubt to be used on another helpless plaything, a pet he decided to claim as your replacement, who even fucking knew). "But your new collar doesn't even have a shock emitter in it, not yet. I figured, well, it's been a year now...I think I can trust you not to do anything stupid, since you've been so well-behaved up until now. Acting like such a little suck-up. It’s pretty cute!"

He didn't ask permission as he took your new collar in hand and brought it up to your neck, slipping it around your throat and clicking it into place, the new metal band a little looser around your neck than the previous one, but still just as immovable.

You barely resisted a whimper as you reached up to touch the polished metal, feeling the notch at your throat that he could use for…well, whatever he wanted (a leash, an o-ring, a tag that had your name, his address, a plea to ‘please take me home, I miss my owner!’)

If anything, this new collar laid his claim on you even more so than the last one.

The last collar, as heavy and as painful as it was, implied at least a certain degree of resistance, symbolising a painful punishment for misbehavior that must have happened frequently enough to necessitate such a brutal contraption.

This one told everyone what you were with just one look, that you were truly a spineless animal who didn't even need to be threatened with punishment anymore, because they thought so little of themselves, they didn't even try to fight back.

It told everyone that you had handed him your submission on a silver plate, and he had proved his ownership of you to be long-standing, brutal, and true.

He might have been bad, so bad, maybe even evil, but God, you were so much worse.

"Ah, it looks perfect. Not like I had any doubt," He toyed with the notch of the collar with a little smirk clear to his voice, triumphant and victorious, and no doubt imagining the things he could do with it. "You always look perfect."

"Mm," You bit your lip, eyes flitting downwards towards your old collar, unable to look back at him, unwilling to, (you might have cried if you even tried to).

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" He then asked, his voice a harsh whisper in your ear after a heavy moment of quiet, a thick finger trailing along the metal and back over the tight clasp that bolted you to him, permanently, if he decided to keep you . "I went through all the trouble of making it for you, after all…I think I deserve something in return."

"Ah...yeah," You cleared your throat and looked over your shoulder, through your thick hair (it had grown out in the year of him keeping you, he hadn’t cut it, he didn’t want to) back at him, an attempt at a weak smile on your face. "Thank you…I love it, I really do."

"You're so welcome," He purred, satisfied with your gratitude (at least for now) as he pressed another kiss to the crown of your head, humming happily against your skin as he wound his arms around your waist, pulling you tight to his body. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, your hands trembling at your sides. 

"Happy anniversary, liebling ...let's hope we get to another year, hm?"

Overstimulation (Ren/MC)

"Ah-ah-ah-!" You gasped brokenly as your hips rutted up desperately against the wide, rumbling head of the hitachi, wielded like a weapon, something to be used against you and to cause you pain, as his other hand roughly groped your chest, his claws digging into your skin.

"Oh, those sounds are way too cuuute~" Ren cooed condescendingly, rolling your nipple (pert and pink and oh-so-sensitive from all his teasing) between his thumb and pointer finger, pressing the vibrator even harder against your cunt as he brought his face closer to yours, sharp teeth smiling as he watched you hungrily, like you were a squirming animal in his trap. "Is that what I do to you, baby? Do I make you sound all porny and desperate, hmmm?~"

"Mmph..." You squeezed your eyes shut, tugging hard at the zip-tie that kept you bound and secured the basement's support beam and biting your lip, hard enough that you might have been concerned about drawing blood (if you could even think). When he tilted the vibrator a little, rubbing the ridged side against your clit, you took in a broken gasp, your eyes shooting wide again, staring up at the swinging lightbulb behind his head like it was the only thing you had left. "Nghhh, stoooop, I can't-!"

Ren giggled a little, running his tongue over his shining, wet jaws before leaning in close, pressing his nose against your neck, taking in your scent. 

"Not yet, not just yet," He whispered as he pressed the vibrator down a little harder, listening to your hitched breaths as he dragged it up and down your weeping slit, stimulating every sensitive area you had. "You can take it, I know you can take it. Don't you want just a little more, anyway? Don't you want to make me proud? I can make you feel so much better..." He nuzzled his face against your neck then, his own breath growing ragged and his tail wagging erratically as he kept pawing at your chest. "I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, after all."

"R-Ren, please, I really can't take it," You whimpered desperately, your voice quivering as much as your body was, trying to plead to him as he stared intently at your sweaty face. "It hurts, please..."

"Oh, you poor thing..." Ren said with a pleased sigh, a condescending click of his tongue. "You should believe in yourself more. You just need the right kind of encouragement, I think..."

He stopped groping your chest for a moment to caress your cheek and push your hair away from your hot face, an intimate and gentle gesture reserved for lovers (that feels mocking when he does it), and then leaned in, planting a firm and deep-tongued kiss to your lips, sharp fangs nipping your lips and making you bleed.

Unable to fight back, you groaned helplessly, your eyelids fluttering and your body tensing up as he kissed you, the hand on your cheek pushing your head back against the support beam, pinning you still so he could take you exactly as he wanted you. 

"I just love the sound of your moans, you know," He whispered against your lips, parted and panting, a thin string of spittle connecting them and threatening to break. "And your reactions, god, they're getting me so hot... and I'm not even halfway done with you."

Not even halfway done. How on earth were you going to survive this?

Ren chuckled quietly, almost innocently, biting his lip to suppress a smile as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes on yours as he gradually turned the vibrator up a few more notches, the buzzing getting louder and so much more intense.

"God-!"

You gritted your teeth with a desperate whine, your toes curling against the cold cement floor and your legs trembling underneath him, where he was straddling you and gradually rutting his own hips down against you. 

"Please, please stop, I can't, I can't-!"

"Oh no. I don't think I'm ready to stop just yet." Ren replied with another little chuckle, his playful smile broadening further into a sharp grin, his smile lines dimpling. "After all, you are so very pretty when you're all turned on like this. When you're drooling as much as your cunt is." He giggled again, his pale cheeks flushed pink, like he was saying something especially naughty. "So many cute sounds just waiting to be made, like you're my very own personal hentai..." 

A lecherous look came to his golden eyes as he turned up the vibrator another notch.

"Let's see if we can make just a few more, shall we?"

"AHHHN!" You cried out, your back arching and your eyes squeezing shut tight, your lips trembling as he pressed even closer to you, his chest practically pressed against yours, tilting the hitachi again and rubbing the bumped ridge of it against your hard clit, stimulating where you were most sensitive and relishing in just how much it was torturing you. "MPH!"

"Ohhh, oh, baby, that's it. You're doing oh-so-well, doing such a good job for me." He whispered hotly, kissing up your neck, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick over already existing bruises. "Why don't you be a good girl for me and just let yourself feel every single little thing I can give you, hm?" He tilted his head, his ears twitching. "It's easier than resisting it, right? Easier to be honest than to keep lying to yourself that you don't adore this feeling~"

"Pleaseeee," You drawled, a viscous string of spittle trickling from your lips and down your chin, tears beading in your eyes, your forehead sweating from the effort of keeping yourself from breaking apart completely under him. "Please, please, fill me up then, make me cum, I can't take it-!"

Ren laughed out loud upon hearing your request, digging his knee into your spread thigh, painful and heavy. 

"Are you begging now? Really?" He chuckled. "I'm not sure if you're in the position to be doing that, sweetie. But, yeah, maybe I will fill you...or maybe I'll do something else." 

The vibe went up another notch. Your eyes rolled back in your skull and you were beginning to lose the ability to even make words anymore.

"And I can do so much more than this too..." He whispered, pressing his cheek against yours and staring at your face, watching as your expression gave away just how much you were getting lost in the pleasure, eyes going hazy and your mind fuzzing into fog behind it. "I can make you feel so many things... so many things you haven't felt before. I can make this last forever, if I really wanted to." He giggled softly and gave you a light peck on your trembling lips. "That's an idea, isn't it? Keeping you tied up in this basement, rutting against a vibrator, cumming your brains out day after day. Maybe I'll be kind enough to fuck you sometimes too, if you ask for it super nicely. Sometimes."

Another notch. You felt your body jerk and spasm, a puppet with cut strings, a toy moments from breaking.

You wondered how many other toys he had broken. Then wondered how you still even had enough of a brain to think about that.

"I can do a lot of things to you, and I intend to do each and every one. Just as I please."

Breathplay (Lawrence/MC)

Your breath hitched tightly in your chest, tight enough to hurt, tight enough that it made your lungs burn and throb, as the plastic bag was slipped over your head and pulled around your neck.

Taking in what very little air you could and making the plastic constrict even tighter as you did so, you fought desperately hard against the strong grip around your neck, big hands (beautiful hands, hands you admired and fantasised about) unrelenting as they held the plastic tightly, undeterred by your convulsing body, and utterly silent.

Like they were doing this just to listen to your wheezing gasps of breath, just to listen to you as you were about to die.

"HGK-!" You gasped again, your eyes rolling back into your skull (showing the milky whites and bloodshot veins) with each heaving breath, sucking plastic into your gasping mouth, reaching up with bound hands to Lawrence's wrists to try and pry them away, though to no avail. 

They just held on tighter, forcing your squirming, spasming body upright, almost on your tiptoes just to meet their height.

Your limbs felt heavier and heavier with each second, sluggish and slow like you were moving in slow motion. 

Every part of your body hurts.

You knew that one day, Lawrence was probably going to kill you but not this soon, not like this, not without giving you a fighting, fucking chance-

Eventually, probably seconds before you were about to pass out (or die), they relented and let you go, watching curiously as you fell gracelessly to the floor with a heaving gasp of air, like a fish out of water.

"God," You moaned helplessly as you tried to climb up to your knees and get away from your captor, your watering eyes tearing up and your shoulders beginning to shake with barely there sobs. "God, oh God, oh God…"

"Stop complaining," Lawrence murmured through a low (and familiar) monotone, taking a step closer towards you and pressing a socked foot to your thigh, forcing you onto your back so that they could stand over you and admire your helpless body as it shook. "It's not that bad…"

"Law, please," You whimpered through your sobs, watching with wide, terrified eyes as they palmed their hard cock through their sweatpants, the image of it long and hard at the sight of your suffering imprinted onto your mind. They had enjoyed doing this to you, it seemed. "Please, don't, I can't-"

"The human body can handle an awful lot," They continued with a slight tilt of their head, a faint flush to their cheeks as they groped themselves more. "It can survive without air for almost six minutes. Of course, after four minutes, it's at risk of serious brain damage. Ah-" They took in their own short gasp, pale grey eyes growing hazy and lustful the more they touched themselves, prying their heavy cock from their sweatpants and gripping it tight, the flushed head drooling with pre-cum already. "But that's not a problem for me. I don't mind a broken toy to look after."

"Mph," You tried to crawl backward, warm tears trailing down your face as they sank down to one knee, and then the other, caging your body down with their own, appearing so much bigger and more monstrous than they had before. "Lawrence, please..."

"Shhh," They shushed you softly, not out of a need to treat you gently or with any degree of care, but out of a desire to keep you as quiet as possible. "That was barely thirty seconds. Let's try and get you to a whole minute, hm?"

"WAIT-!"

You couldn't even begin to say anything as they pulled the plastic bag over your head again before you even had the chance to take a proper gulp of air and prepare yourself for this torture.

The second time was so much worse than the first, your lungs already on fire from their previous abuse, the plastic constricting even tighter somehow and sticking to your sweaty face as you took in panicked gasps, writhing helplessly underneath them as they kept you pinned to the ground.

It was even worse, though, now that you were able to see Lawrence looking down on you so intensely, their grey eyes narrowed and focused as their hands clenched even tighter at each side of your neck, keeping the plastic bag taut.

"Fifty...forty-nine...forty-eight," They murmured, their voice sounding like it was underwater as their hands shook, just a touch, and their hips dipped down to meet yours, rubbing the head of their cock against the (unfortunately) weeping mound of your cunt. 

Their expression gave away at how surprised they were that you were wet (because of course you were fucking wet, wet enough that it was soaking into your panties), but they didn't stop counting, nor did they stop bucking their hips against yours, providing you both with a modicum of stimulation while they were committing such an awful act.

"Thirty-seven...thirty-six..." 

Slightly crooked teeth bit down on their bottom lip, their words trailing into soft murmurs as their cheeks grew even more flushed.

You were helpless to do anything but slowly suffocate underneath them, any trace of oxygen long gone as the plastic constricted tighter and tighter, your body completely slack and dead beneath theirs, like a wilted flower that had its stem cut.

"Twenty-three...twenty-two..."

You weren't sure when you passed out, but it was probably after you felt the splatter of warm cum soaking through your panties. 

[jessefandomunited]

You said the top floor right????

Spencer Reid x reader (no gender or skin color specified)

-you've been feeling really close to Spencer since joining the BAU and with his new found fear of elevators you suddenly get a burst of confidence.( no sex but a make out scene)

@raythecomputerart I hope this was what you're looking for 😉

You were about to wrap up the case you were on and while you really didn't want to waste any time sleeping, you would be useless without it.

There had been a screw up with the rooms at the hotel , and while everyone else was on floor two, you and spencer were on floor 15. You instantly noticed a bead of sweat form on his brow, everyone else had already left otherwise you knew someone would have swapped. He had had a bad experience in and elevator before and now would typically opt to walk up the stairs but with us being both exhausted, we risked it.

As you pressed the button you suddenly realized how close you were to him. You had always had a thing for him but ,being coworkers and all it felt inappropriate. However being in this confined space made you suddenly feel self conscious causing you to subtly fix a fly away hair and tug your shirt back into place. Glancing back at Spencer you noticed he had gone almost completely pail . You gingerly asked," hey are you okay?" At that moment the elevator lurched causing him to reflexively grab your hand.You could feel heat rising to your face and risked a glance at him to gauge how he was feeling. His panic drained into embarrassment and he rambled " I'm so sorry I didn't mean to do that just ...you know that one time ..it kind of has me paranoid " you smiled gently and rubbed the back of his hand causing him to realize that even though he had apologize, he didn't let go.

The elevator started to rise again and you said ," hey Spenc?" He looked over , seeming to be feeling better, " yeah? What's wrong?" You felt this rush of courage and blurred out ," can you just kiss me already." It wasn't demanding , it was a desperate plea causing you to feel more embarrassed than you already were. His eyes widened and you noticed his pupils dilated , making your heart skip a beat. "Really," he gasped suddenly breathing a bit more heavily. " please," you insisted. Without hesitation he cupped your face, gently running his thumb against your cheek, starring lovingly into your eyes before pressing his lips against yours. It started gentle him being careful not to go too hard, but as you tangled your fingers in his hair, gently tugging it, a switch flipped. It became deeper , hotter, and more heavy. You bit his lip, and let his tongue explore your mouth. He trailed kissed down your neck nipping along the way causing you to moan a bit. He tugged your shirt down a bit and sucked on it, leaving a red mark, claiming you before returning to your lips.

The only thing that brought you back, was the soft ding of the elevator. The two of you almost jumped apart as the doors innocently slid open. The number at the top glowing with the number 15. As you stepped onto your floor you looked at eachother for a long moment before you innocently called," goodnight." He nodded and you both quickly went to your rooms not wanting to risk what might happen if you stayed a moment longer.

[glowingbadger]

Guarantee y'all didn't expect Shane to be my next target lmao but I've started a new sdv game and he's just such a sweet man and I want nice things for him. As the kids say- poor little meow meow

CW for a brief alcoholism mention

And damn Reader-Chan is a lot more forward in this than I usually write them lol but that's kinda necessary with a guy like Shane tbh.

Shane (SDV) x GN/AFAB Reader

A roll in the hay

NSFW 18+

Shane nudges open the door of your chicken coop with a bucket of fresh water in one hand and a hay bale balanced on his shoulder with the other.  You look up from where you’d been securing a new hinge on the smaller rolling door, and smile at the sight of him.  Truth be told, you’ve been looking at him a lot lately.  The healthy flush and subtle sheen of sweat on his skin pair nicely with the worn-in jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing to help you work.  His posture is straighter these days, and it draws your eyes up to strong shoulders that you hadn’t noticed were so broad until recently.  You’ve noticed other things, too- that he shaves more often, though by late afternoon he’s regained that five-o-clock shadow you’d always thought was strangely handsome on him.  That he positively glows and smiles in a way that brings creases to the corners of his eyes when he talks about Jas, or all the progress he and Marnie have made with the animals.  That he spends less time at the Saloon and more visiting you.

“Over here good?” he asks, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Hm?  Oh- yeah, that corner’s perfect, thanks,” you straighten up and brush off the front of your shirt and shorts, with a brief ‘whew!’  Then, you take a look around the newly-immaculate coop with your hands planted proudly on your hips. 

“Man, this place is looking as nice as the day Robin built it.  I really appreciate your help today, Shane.” you smile, catching the way he fidgets with the pocket knife in his hand as he bends to cut the bale of hay loose.

“Nah, it’s no big deal.”

“Well it is to me.  Afterall, I’ve got assistance from the Valley’s foremost chicken husbandry expert.” you’re sure to add a note of grandeur to the title.

“‘Foremost expert?’  C’mon,” he says with a short laugh.  In a practiced motion, he cleanly cuts the ropes around the hay and pulls them free, adding, “You give me way too much credit.” 

“And you give yourself no credit,” you reply, crossing your arms in a faux-pout as he rises and turns to you, “So I have to give you enough for the both of us.” 

He sighs, but he can’t seem to help the way the corner of his mouth curls into a grin.  With his dark brown eyes cast low, he tries to act like he’s focusing really hard on closing up his knife and storing it back in his pocket. 

“Well, y’know,” he mumbles, “I’m… happy to help with anything you need, just ask.  I’d like to be more reliable- at least for Aunt Marnie and Jas, and, uh… for you.”

Your smile softens, and you step closer to him, but before you can speak, he adds,

“Sorry, that must’ve sounded weird.  I- I’m gonna get this hay taken care of.” 

You almost laugh- he’s just too sweet, but you can’t risk making him feel more self-conscious.  So, stealing just a moment longer to watch him grab the nearby rake and start work in the corner, you decide to give him a bit of space and head into the house for some water. 

Shane has just finished arranging the fresh hay in a pile in the corner of the coop by the time you come back with water bottles and towels for you both.  You toss one of each to him with a nod, which he lurches back a step to catch. 

“Thanks,” he says with a heavy exhale.  He sounds exhausted from the day’s work, but pleasantly so, and you smile as you watch him wipe his face and hands clean with the towel.  Truly, it had been a huge help to have him around to help with a few things you’d been putting off, though you suppose he’s used to this kind of work.  The chickens are content to mill around in the fields outside until you finished, and two people had made for surprisingly light work all things told, so you feel you both have earned the chance to catch your breath and relax.  

Shane stretches out his arms, one and then the other, and you note for the third or fourth time that day that he actually has some impressive strength hidden on that physique of his.  You’d only recently started to take note, but it makes sense; carrying around product crates at Joja every day for so long- and now at Pierre's -not to mention the work he does to help Marnie with her own chickens, it follows that he’d have built up some muscle under his soft exterior.  Looking at him once again causes a familiar flutter in your stomach, and you smile to yourself.

He takes a swig of water, then glances over at you.

“Something on my face?”

You shrug.

“No, sorry,” you make your way towards the hay piled up in the corner and plop down onto the floor, then lie back against it, reclining comfortably with your hands behind your head and legs crossed out in front of you.  Shane follows your lead, careful to keep a respectful distance as he settles on straw beside you.  

“I was actually wondering,” you turn on your side towards him, closing half of that distance, “What suddenly inspired you to come help me out today?  Like I said, I appreciate it, you’ve been a huge help- but I figured you’d want to relax on a day off.” 

His eyes scan your face for a moment, then he looks blankly back up at the ceiling.

“Well you know, you’ve done a lot for me.  Been there for me, listened to me ramble about stupid stuff, and, uh… just figured I’d try to do something for you.” 

You smile warmly at him, but he goes on,

“And, well…” he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, “Truth is, It’s also… been one of those days, actually.  When I start feeling like… hey, a drink or two, what’s the harm?  And I guess- if it were actually one or two, that would be fine, but I know myself.” His expression darkens, and he sighs again, heavier this time. 

“So you needed something to take your mind off of it,” you say.

“Basically, yeah,” he turns back to you wearing a wry smile, “Sorry to make you babysit me.  I guess that’s pretty lame, huh.” 

“Not at all,” you shift closer to him, “I’m really happy that you trust me enough to come to me with this.  Besides, isn’t this a huge step forward?  Reaching out and doing something productive instead of falling back on bad habits?”

“I… I guess so.” he almost looks unsure of whether he can allow himself to smile at this or not, and his eyes shy from yours. 

“Shane,” you’re lying closer to him now, your bodies in that strange space where you can feel one another without touching, “I want you to know that I’m really, really proud of you.” 

His eyes flicker down for a moment, you think towards your mouth, and his face is visibly pink. 

“Man.  How do you always know exactly what to say?  It’s… totally unfair.” 

When you bring a hand gently to his cheek and lean closer, he seems to freeze at first, until he leans towards you at the last moment before your lips meet.  Shane’s are soft, his kiss slow and incredibly tender- though tentative still.  His hand rests over yours, but gently, as though he’s not yet sure whether he should touch you.  When your tongue grazes his lower lip, he gives a breathy moan that you only barely hear, and briefly, you part from the kiss.  You rest your forehead against his, and he whispers your name with audible disbelief.  He’s trembling just a little.  His hand reverently brushes your hair from your face. 

Without a word, you kiss him again, harder this time.  He can’t hold back a low groan, and the sound squeezes around your heart and warms your body.  You only break from him for a moment to sling your leg over his hips, straddling his lap and pressing yourself to him.  At last, he wraps those strong arms around you, holding you close as your tongues tease one another and your nails dig down his chest from atop his clothes.  Your pulse is pounding, and you can feel from his chest that Shane’s is too.  Yet when your hands run down his torso to ease his shirt upward, he halts, breathless.

“Y/N, wait- you… you don’t have to do this.” 

You feel his touch abandon you.  When you look curiously down at him, he’s doing his best to appear stoic. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” his eyes dart away from you, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do and everything, but… it wouldn’t feel right to go this far.  Just to, y’know, cheer me up or whatever.” 

Your heart aches as his words sink in.

“Shane,” your tone is gently admonishing, “Is it really that hard for you to believe that I like you?” 

He takes a breath, his face burning red.

“Well, uh… ki- kinda…” 

Wordlessly, you take his hands in yours and guide them to your waist.  He looks up at you, surprised, confused, and eager despite himself.  Then, you guide his touch along your sides- slowly, so he can feel each inch of your body as it passes under his palms.  When his hands reach your breasts, you encourage him, pressing his touch more firmly to you, squeezing soft flesh until you feel his cock, hot and hard between your thighs, throb conspicuously in response.  

“Shit, sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologize.” 

You grind your hips down onto him, rutting your warmth against his erection and wishing dearly that there wasn’t so much damned fabric between you and him.  He looks gorgeous like this- flush-faced, muscles tensed, watching you with rapt attention as you encourage him to touch you as he likes.  At last, it seems he no longer needs direct guidance; his hands cup and massage your breasts, firm but never rough or forceful.  Now and then, he lets his hips shift against yours, creating that wonderful friction between you.  You lean down and kiss him again, deeply and firmly, willing your feelings to reach him.  You know that words and platitudes would do nothing for a man like Shane.  You’re determined to show him how earnestly you want him. 

Once again, your fingertips play at the bottom hem of his t-shirt, slowly pulling it upward.  When your lips part from his, he’s softly panting, his breath hot and eyes hazy.  You linger near enough that your lips brush his when you speak,

“Please, Shane?” 

He nods, and you give him enough space to tug the shirt over his head.  Clumsily, he shoves the shirt beneath him to avoid scratching his back against the hay.  You think for a moment that maybe you should take this to your bedroom- but damn, he just looks too good laid out on the straw beneath you, hair mussed out of place, flushed skin still dewed with the slightest hint of sweat.

You can’t help yourself- you press your body to his and kiss down the column of his neck, stopping to bite here and there, reveling in every mark you gift him along the way.  He groans out your name, hands running along your hips, gripping the swell of your thighs, even bold enough at last to grab onto your ass and pull you against him.  Only after you’ve kissed and bitten and caressed to your heart’s content, dragged your nails down his chest and felt him arch against you, do you finally pause.  

“Wait just one second,” you whisper in the heated air between you.  Then, you get to your feet to undress.  He watches you in a state of restless arousal and lingering disbelief as you strip for him.  You’re tempted to prolong the process and really savor his adoring eyes on you- but you find you’re too eager for what’s to come.  So you remove shorts and flannel and undergarments, leaving yourself in only your work boots and returning to his lap as quickly as you can.  

“Wow…” Shane’s hands run the contours of your body as he takes you in, and you smile down at him.  

“Do you believe that I want you yet?”  Your tone is playful, but the question is at least partly sincere.  

“I dunno,” he can’t tear his eyes from your body, “Seeing you like this honestly makes it even harder to believe.  You’re just- you’re so… wow.  It feels like a dream.  Or like I’ve lost it and this is all in my head.” 

As he speaks, your hands run down his front to undo the button of his pants.  Then, you hold his gaze as you slowly drag down the zipper.  Your touch firm but gentle, you free his rock-solid cock from his boxers and let out a happy little moan at the sight of it.  On the larger side of average length, extremely thick and pleasantly veined, it’s an incredibly tempting sight.  You stroke it once with your hand, then again and again, less tentatively each time.  You enjoy the heft and shape of it, and the way Shane catches his breath at your touch.  He’s sensitive- each brush and caress of your hand, each teasing motion of your fingers, has him blushing and biting back his voice.  You consider prolonging this too, but the raw lust you can see blazing in his eyes despite himself, the way he stammers out your name when you grip him more firmly and precum slickens the head of his member- it’s far too erotic to resist.

You position yourself carefully over him, the head of his cock nestled between your lower lips- but you don’t let him enter you just yet.  Instead, you sway your hips against him, rubbing his entire length against your needy cunt.  He moans aloud, his fingers gripping tight at your thighs, his member twitching.

“Does this feel like a dream?” you say with a grin.

“No, it- it feels good,” he manages, “So damn good…” 

You continue grinding against him, bulging veins and the ridge of his crown all stroking you sinfully with each pass.  Before long, you’re able to angle yourself so your clit rubs against his cockhead as your hips sway, and you let out a pleasured whine that sends a shiver through him.  By now, he’s coated in your arousal, his length glistening with your release.  

“Can you feel how wet I am for you?”

“Nngh, yeah,” he groans, “Fuck, so hot…”

For a moment, you feel his hands at your hips trying to guide you onto him, his body bucking slightly towards you, seeking you out.  You smile and place a brief kiss to his lips, then say,

“You can stop holding back now, Shane.” 

His arm wraps around your midsection, warm and sturdy, and he turns you onto your back.  A few awkward moments pass in a frenzy as he shifts his discarded shirt under you to ensure your comfort, and you fumble a hand to the side to grab the condom from your shorts’ pocket.  He seems surprised that you’d had it on hand, but opens it and rolls it down onto his length regardless. His brow is handsomely furrowed as he guides the tip to your entrance.  You watch him in a blissful haze, arms wrapped loosely around his broad shoulders, and you gasp as he begins to push into you.  

“Ohh..!” 

Each inch of his thick cock stretches you wonderfully as he thrusts forward, and your head tilts back, your toes curl.  Once inside of you, he hooks an arm under one of your knees, holding your legs spread open as he fills you.

“Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined…” 

Your face warms at the thought that he’d fantasized about this- perhaps even pleasured himself to the thought of you.  You’ll have to pursue that train of thought later- right now, you can’t think of anything but how damn good it feels to finally have him.  To feel his body start to move in tandem with yours, massaging the bulging contours of his cock into you.  To see him looking at you like you’re some unearthly beauty.  

You pull Shane down to you and kiss him, your tongue sliding into his mouth and coaxing him further.  With a groan, he drives his hips forward, stuffing you full of him until you’ve taken him to the base of his throbbing member.  Gasping and whimpering blissfully into his mouth, your nails rake along his strong shoulders and into his hair.  Somewhere in the back of your pleasure-dazed mind, it occurs to you that if anyone happened to stop by the farm today, they’d easily hear your cries through the flimsy walls of the chicken coop.  You quickly decide that you don’t care; in this moment, nothing is more important than showing Shane how you feel about him.  He needs to know that he’s cared for, wanted, desired.  

He pulls away from your kiss, and on instinct, you tug him back down to you with your arms around his neck.  At first, he relents, relaxing back into your embrace and kissing you over and over while he bucks into you at a steady pace.  Eventually, however, he decisively straightens his back to kneel over you, his thrusts slowing but never ceasing- you’re not sure he could bring himself to stop rubbing himself against your clenching inner walls.  Just when you’re about to question him, he brings a hand between your legs, his thumb fumbling a bit clumsily at first until he strokes across your stiffened clit.  

“Ohh… fuck, right there..!” 

“Like this?”

“Yeah- ohh, yes, just like that!”

Shane takes your direction well- a bit unsure at first, the moment he finds the right pressure, the right pace, the right angle, he memorizes your preference.  Your legs wrap around his midsection, pulling him close until he’s sheathed deeply in you while his fingers tease your clit.  His free hand grips at your thigh as he watches you squirming and arching beneath him.  He’s entranced.

“S’that good?”

You nod, biting at your lower lip.

“So good, Shane… c-close- I’m gonna..!  Mmmh!” 

“Fuck-” he exhales, his hips bucking more forcefully into you, “Let me feel it.  Please, Y/N, I- I wanna feel you cum..!” 

Your thighs are trembling, your cunt squeezing tight around him.  Eyes hazy, you manage to meet his adoring gaze as you inch closer and closer to the edge.  Your hands scramble to grab onto anything, and only find the hay and his shirt beneath you.  He’s massaging your tender clit just right, his cock stretching you perfectly.  Shane is determined to satisfy you- his focus is relentless, reverent affection openly shining in his eyes.  Soon, gasping his name, your eyes roll back as you’re swallowed in a wave of mind-numbing pleasure.  And it seems bringing you to this blissful release breaks through to something in him.  

Before you’ve even fully recovered from the aftershocks of your orgasm, he lowers himself to you and wraps an arm around your waist.  His cock draws out from you nearly to the tip, then slams back in, forcing a desperate cry from your lips.  The next thrust is every bit as forceful, and you’re certain he’d be pushing you away from him if he weren’t holding you so close.  Shane maintains this pace, fucking into you with long, powerful strokes of his cock that never become fast enough to numb you to the sensation.  Your limbs feel weak, your head fuzzy and thoughts scrambled.

Shane’s lips find the crook of your neck, spoiling you with deep, erotic kisses.  When he marks you, it’s not the precious, playful little love-bites you left him; his marks are dark bruises, his teeth pressing to you until just before the pain becomes too much and leaving you branded with his lust.  Your nails scrape across his back, and in the moment, neither of you even notice.  Swollen red lines left as souvenirs will be a lasting reminder of your shared passions. 

“So tight… nngh, fuck-” he grunts your name against your skin, “Dunno… how much more of this I can take…”

“It’s okay, Shane,” you say softly between gasping moans, “I- I want it..!  Please-!” 

His kiss presses you down against the bed of hay.  His hands run up your sides, pulling you back against his thrusts, ensuring that the head of his cock hits deep with each push.  Then, panting for breath with his forehead resting on yours, you feel his climax in every part of his body on yours.  You feel the way his cock swells and lurches with each spurt of cum.  The way his hands hold almost painfully tight at your waist.  The way his muscles tense, his frame shivers, his voice stalls between grunting moans.  He’s gorgeous- and you can’t help breathing out his name as your own body feels both boneless and weightless beneath him.  Then at last, you exhale in unison, bodies still tangled together as muscles go slack.

You imagine you look an utter mess.  Stray bits of straw poke through your hair, to say nothing of the sweat shared between your body and Shane’s.  You’re marked up, red in the face and short of breath- and you can’t recall the last time you felt so wonderfully satisfied.  Gazing up at Shane as he regains his bearings- to some measure of success, anyway -he looks about the same as you figure you do.  It’s a cute look on him. 

“Always knew you had that in you somewhere,” you say with a coy, if hazy grin.  

“Did you?” his voice scratches awkwardly in his throat, but he returns your smile, “You’ll have to catch me up, cause apparently you knew where today was going a whole lot better than I did.” 

Perhaps just now remembering that his cock is still inside of you, he carefully pulls out, stifling a groan at that last precious moment of friction.  He removes the filled condom while giving a short, incredulous laugh.

“I mean, you even had this thing on hand.”

“Grabbed it when I went inside for water,” you say with a casual shrug, “Watching you working up a sweat out here got me thinking.” 

Shane repeats that same laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

“You’re a weird one, you know that?”

“And you don’t even know how hot you are,” you reply, unshaken. 

“There you go again,” he huffs out as he collapses onto the hay beside you, “Saying stuff that makes me crazy.”

Without a word needed between you, Shane loops an arm around your waist and pulls you on top of him, and you gladly follow.  Evidently, he no longer cares about the scratching of the straw at his back.  You figure it couldn’t compare with the scratches you’d left to linger there, anyway.

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe it,” you lean in, still smiling as you kiss him once more.  At long last, he kisses you back in a way that feels certain and unafraid.  When you draw away, his hand has come to cradle the side of your face, and he looks at you.  Just looks at you.  You can only imagine what he must be thinking, but when he finally breaks the silence, he says,

“Shit, what time is it?” he glances at the door but can’t seem to get his answer from the light peaking through the cracks, “I promised I’d be home for dinner… Not that- I’m not trying to- I- I wish I could stay, honest,” he stammers, and you laugh.

“Shane, it’s fine, I know it’s important.  Why don’t I walk you back?  I can vouch for you.” 

Those dark eyes search your face for a silent moment.  

“You could… stay and help me whip up some dinner for everyone.  If you wanted.  No pressure,” he quickly adds, “I’m not trying to make this more than it is, unless you want to, but this is fine and I won’t push you or anything, it’s just… Jas always likes it when you come over.” He lets the sentence end lamely, his voice flat. 

You can’t help laughing, and you press a brief but tender kiss to his lips.

“That sounds great, Shane.  But we should probably be wearing more clothes and have less hay in our hair, first.”

[tinkerbelle05]

Maybe We’ll Get Through This Part 1

Characters:Jaime Reyes x Pregnant!reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You find out that you pregnant while Jaime is at college and, you have yet to tell him.

Warnings: alludes to past sexual experiences, talks of pregnancy, adoption, and abortion, talks about financial insecurity, arguing, lying

Special thanks to @scryarchives for their help!!🫶🏿

-

You’ve been counting down the dreaded day since you found out about your pregnancy, the day you told Jaime about it. And about the house. And about the garage closing. And about his father’s heart attack. There was a lot you and his family were keeping from him.

For good reason, of course. Knowing how Jaime is, he’d drop out of college and catchthe next plane to come back home, no matter what anyone said.

And he worked too hard for that to happen or to have unnecessary stress cause him to fail his courses.

At least that's what you said to convince yourself that this was a good idea. But the doubt that laid heavy in your stomach was really convincing you that you were wrong in this decision.

You decided to wear an oversized hoodie even in the sweltering Texas heat. Your bump was growing, and you didn’t want to tell Jaime like this. You wanted to ease him into the news.

You would just have to bring a mini fan, ice cold water, and hope that most places have a working AC unit in them.

All of you huddled into Rudy’s car, and you braced yourself for the long ride. It was at least an hour or so. Maybe you could listen to music to calm yourself down.

Or you could obsessing over how you would break the news to Jaime. It was already nerve wracking telling someone your gonna be a father.

Especially when they are a new grad, especially when you were withholding this information for months, especially when you we’re struggling financially.

God, you should’ve aborted the baby the moment you found out. There was still time to do it, all you had to do was take one little pill. Why did you think this was a good idea? That this was doable?

“Everything will be fine, mija,” Mrs. Reyes attempted to reassure and handed you a tissue.

You gladly took it to wipe your tears and blow your nose, “Thank you, Mrs. Reyes.”

You had to keep your emotions in check if you wanted this to work. I mean if you showed up to the airport with puffy eyes and a snotty nose then you could tell Jaime you just really, really missed him.

Which is a case was true, you had really missed him. You missed hugging him, kissing him, and going on dates. Holding his hand, running your hands through his soft curls.

And didn’t they always say the best lie had some truth to it?

The drive to the airport came and went, everything’s a bit of a blur right now with you focused on how to tell Jaime. Your body’s basically on autopilot and before you knew it, you were in a somewhat crowed airport with good AC.

You felt the nice cool air on your flushed skin and hastily wiped some sweat from your forehead. Now you waited, and there he was. All smiles, with his graduation hat sitting playfully crooked on his head and his carry on trailing behind him.

He hugged Nana first, then Milargo, and Mr. Reyes. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of Jaime getting peppered with kisses by Mrs. Reyes. Watching him laugh and squirm under her hold, it was cute.

You imagined doing that with you kid one day. Hearing their laughter and whining out for you to stop because it tickled them too much.

No, no you're getting too far ahead now. Let’s just take this one step at a time.

Then it was your turn.

Even though you lived with the Reyes for a year now and were obviously pregnant, you still felt thoroughly embarrassed and self-conscious about showing too much affection in front of them.

So you gave Jaime a hug and quick kiss on the cheek. He held your hand as you made your way to the car and the taco place for lunch.

“How was the flight?” You asked him softly.

“Well, there was a crying baby for like half of the flight so that was great,” he answered sarcastically. “But yea other than that it was alright.”

Your eye twitched at the word “baby” and you felt yourself spiraling.

Does Jaime even want kids?

Does he want them but not right now?

Would he be happy? Angry, that you withheld this information or angry that your pregnant? Angry at both?

“Your sweating,” Jaime noted you. “That’s a pretty thick sweater, aren’t you burning up in that thing?”

You looked at Jaime then shared a knowing look with his sister, “Well, you know what they say Jaime, beauty’s pain.” You smiled tightly at him.

He did not look convinced in the slightest but he didn’t push it, and two continued your easy going conversation until you got to the taco place.

You all filed into the restaurant, at the table that you always sit at because it’s the only one big enough for everyone.

Your mind wandered to the future, as it always does. Would the kid sit on your lap or Jaime’s? Would they have a preference, or just who was holding them at the time? Or will you have to pull up an extra chair and all squeeze to make room?

You cleared your throat and attempted to clear your mind of those thoughts, but you wanted them to happen. You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t want kids, this kid.

But maybe you did want kids?

Or maybe it was just the hormones.

You were starving, the smell was intoxicating and tempted but the thought of food made you nauseous, and this sweater wasn’t making you feel any better.

The waiter came and everyone ordered food but you.

And of course Jaime noticed, he leaned closer into you and whispered into your ear, “Are you sure your okay?”

You brought out your mini fan just for it to blow the hot air back into your face, you winced at the feeling but you nodded your head anyway.

“Of course I am,” you responded. But you felt terrible and it was getting harder to keep the facade up.

Milagro, as observant her brother, noticed this too and huffed, “Okay, he’s had his tacos let’s tell him now.”

The announcement illicit different reactions: Jaime’s was confusion and everyone one else’s was shock. To be honest, there was really no concrete agreed upon time of when you would all tell Jaime the news. The only thing that was agreed on was that we would prolong it as much as possible.

You guessed Milagro was fed up then. You watched as Milagro unceremoniously dumped everything on Jaime; his father’s stroke, losing the garage, and potentially losing the house.

“Wait, so all of you hid this from me? For…for what? So I could focus on some dumb degree and get us more into debt?!” Jaime astonished.

“No, no, you had to focused on school. You worked too hard to give that all up,” Mr. Reyes explained.

“No, no I could’ve been working. I could’ve saved the shop, I….I could’ve been here for my family.” Jaime said. Then he looks at you, “Do you have anything you wanna tell me too?”

You realized that he was joking when he said that but it felt like a big bright light was under you. You wanted to tell him so badly but how?

You've been agonizing over how to do it for months now. What do you say? How do you say it? Do you ease it in or just blurt it out?

Either way, it was now or never.

You took a deep breath, “Jaime, I'm pregnant.”

-

Part 2

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