#the molding on her dress is exceptional

[heckyeahponyscans]

Alice in Wonderland statuette

[the-californicationist]

They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

[spanktony]

REASSURE ME - rosita espinosa

summary: when maggie gets to touchy, you make sure you reassure your girlfriend in the best way possible.

words: 1k+

warnings: 18+, g!p reader, smut, oral, fingering, p in v, slightly jealous rosita

notes: took too long to post this sorry guys 😢

navigation. request.

"Where are you going?" Rosita asks, watching you put your belt on. "Maggie's been begging me to help her fix our crops," you reply, adjusting the buckle. "It's like she doesn't understand she left Hilltop to relax and get away from work."

Rosita chuckles, shaking her head. "Well, you've always been the reliable one when it comes to lending a hand. Just make sure you don't overexert yourself, we don't want you burning out like last time."

She gives you a knowing look, remembering the time you pushed yourself too hard and ended up sick for a week.

You hold up your hands in surrender, "Of course, my love." You reassure Rosita, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll be back home in an hour."

Although an hour and a half passes, you're not home. Rosita decides to leave the house and check up on you and Maggie, with water in her hand, worried about your well-being.

She hopes that you haven't overexert yourself again and that everything is okay.

Only to find you both laughing and enjoying each other's company. Rosita can't help but feel a pang of jealousy, wondering if you prioritize Maggie's company over hers.

Maggie squeezes your bicep, and you lift up your shirt, revealing your toned abs and jokingly flexing.

Rosita's jealousy raises as she watching the stupid smile on your face due to Maggie's reaction. She tries her best to hide her emotions, but deep down, she feels betrayed and insecure.

She wonders if there is something more than just friendship between you and Maggie, like lingering feelings that have yet to be explored.

Rosita walks up to you, and Maggie walks away to grab a nearby bucket. "Hey, love." You smile, wrapping your arm around Rosita's waist. "What's on your mind?"

Rosita hesitates for a moment but then takes a deep breath before speaking up. "I didn't know showing off your body was part of fixing crops."

She glances over at Maggie, who is now bending over to pick up the bucket to fill it with water. "It just seems like you're more interested in impressing her than actually helping out."

Your eyebrows furrow, and you release your grip on Rosita's waist. "I...I..." You let out a chuckle, a bit surprised by Rosita's comment, and lost for words.

Rosita rolls her eyes, slapping the water bottle against your chest. "Just forget it."

You take a step back, watching your girlfriend walk away with a slight frown on your face.

Hours pass, and Rosita is awoken by the bathroom door creaking open. She groggily sits up in bed, seeing you get dressed in your boxers and sports bra in the dimly lit room.

You crawl toward her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. As much as she tries to fight it, she can't help but melt into your touch.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to upset you," you whisper softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Can I make it up to you?"

Rosita looks into your eyes, her frown slowly fading away. You place a kiss on her lips, feeling her reciprocate it with a soft sigh. Without breaking the kiss, you push away the covers, resting between her legs and deepening the kiss with a small groan.

Your hands explore every inch of her body, tracing the curves and contours that you have come to know so well. The curves that you love due to the fact they mold perfectly in your palms.

Rosita had a habit of just wearing one of your oversized t-shirts to bed, and tonight was no exception. You lift up your shirt, revealing her bare skin underneath, causing a shiver of anticipation to run through both of you.

The cool air kisses her exposed flesh, heightening the sensations of hands and their exploration.

Parting your lips from the kiss, you lean in to whisper in her ear, "You look absolutely irresistible in my shirt."

Her cheeks flush with a rosy hue as she gazes up at you, a playful spark dancing in her eyes. The soft fabric clings to her curves, accentuating her every contour and making her even more alluring in your eyes.

You kiss her stomach, tracing a path with your lips that sends shivers down her spine. She arches her back, a soft moan escaping her lips, as your kisses continue lower.

Her breath quickens and her hands grip the sheets, her body yearning for more of your touch. You hold apart her thighs, teasing her ever so slightly before finally giving in to her desires.

Rosita lets out a low whine, your tongue dancing sensually against her most sensitive spot. The taste of her arousal drives you wild, fueling your want to please her even more.

You continue to explore her with your mouth, your fingers join in the dance, and if you weren't so focused on the sight in front of you, you'd see your girlfriend trying her best to stay quiet.

Her lip tucked between her teeth, head thrown back, and knuckles white.

Rosita's hips start to move involuntarily, grinding against your face as she loses herself in the waves of pleasure crashing over her.

"Baby, fuck!" she gasps, gripping your hair tightly as her climax approaches. Her walls tighten around your fingers, and her moans become uncontrollable, "I'm cumming.."

She lets out a primal scream, her body shaking in euphoria, and you revel in the satisfaction of knowing you've brought her to the brink and beyond.

Rosita lets out another gasping moan, feeling you sink into her without warning. Her eyes widen in surprise, but her body arches with pleasure appreciating the pleasant surprise.

"You're so pretty, baby. How could I ever want someone else?" You whisper, your thumb tracing delicate circles on her flushed cheek. Rosita's breath hitches as she locks eyes with you, feeling close to the edge already.

Her lips part, but no words escape, only small whines of pleasure as she desperately tries to hold back her release. You lean in closer, your voice husky with desire. "Let go, Rosita," you murmur, your words dripping with need.

The sound of her whimpering only grow louder as she finally surrenders herself to you and the amazing pleasure you bring her and only her.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Kim Novak (Vertigo, Bell, Book, and Candle)— She fought as much as she could to be able to preserve her own identity within the crushing hollywood system. She refused to change her czech last name and fought for a higher salary once she discovered her male counterparts were getting payed significantly more, which was an incredibly risky thing to do. She went through so much hollywood bs like she was forced to drop her affair with Sammy Davis jr. She played her iconic role in Vertigo thinking about her own oppressive and significant changes she had to undergo in order to fit in the tight hollywood mold which i think is partly why the movie is so beautiful and timeless. She is a gorgeous soul and a great artist.

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Kim Novak:

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

[astriiformes]

One thing this episode really lingered on is just how much The Owl House is a story about stories -- fandom, and stories told within stories, and breaking the mold to write your own, new one, and history as a narrative and parallels to the past, but also not being beholden to repeat them.

It's Luz stumbling into a magical world and deciding to stay because of the stories she loves. It's Eda telling her there are no chosen ones there, but stories turning out to having real power even when chosen ones don't. It's Luz and Amity having their first real bonding moment in a library, battling a book that came to life. It's Azura bringing them together. It's Luz learning about Philip Wittebane first through the false, polished, carefully curated story he wrote about himself in his diary. It's Eda telling Luz and King the story of how she met Raine before they're ever able to meet them. It's the repeating cycle of grimwalkers, constructed to play roles in a story they were never privy to. It's Caleb only ever being shown through glimpses and snatches of the narrative that swallowed him up, but being present all the same. It's Gus and Hunter stumbling upon Camila's old favorite series and connecting to it the same way she did (and then some). It's the constant meta jokes about various books the characters love mirroring the show. It's the kids on a haunted hayride being told about the Wittebane brothers like they're a ghost story, except they know they were real -- and who the real monster was.

It's meeting your girlfriend because of fandom. It's the book series your dad gifted to you just before he died that brought you much-needed comfort at the time, and so much more in the future. It's looking deep inside and saying "Stories help me be the person I want to be" and "You want me to repeat the way this happened in the past, but I refuse" and "Stories help us remember those who are gone."

It's Luz finally stepping back into the Demon Realm dressed as Azura, the character that lead her there in the first place, at the end of the beginning of the end of the show's own story.

It's about how stories can save your life.

[lucysarah-c]

I would like you very much to talk about the girlfriend effect on Levi's fashion

The man has zero sense on it it's actually hurt

The way I squealed when I read this ask. I was like that TikTok sound of “OH MY GOODNESSI LOVE THIS QUESTION! I THINK..!”

*Deep sigh* Anon, you're absolutely right; it's time we face the truth about Levi's sense of style – it's hideous. Have you witnessed those panels of him in the Uprising arc with a T-shirt on top of a long-sleeve shirt? I mean, seriously, it's like, "You're lucky I adore you, Levi…"

Now, let's establish some basics. We can't delve into the "girlfriend effect" without first acknowledging Levi's life as a man. I hate to break it to many of us, but Levi is, indeed, a man – raised by Kenny, no less. Levi values cleanliness and practicality. To sum up Levi's approach to broad topics: cheap, pragmatic, and straightforward. The only exceptions to this rule are tea and cleaning. Levi grew up in poverty, so he won't waste a single penny on face cream, even if you harass him. As an example, there's a "game" that was only available, I believe, in Japan, that had side stories, and Levi literally told Erwin he wasted too much money on "pointless" stuff like hair pomade…

Levi doesn't buy much furniture, treats for his body, clothes – anything, really. I'd even venture to say he might get some of his clothes from donations. He saves his money for tea… and tea sets.

And here's where the girlfriend comes into the picture. It starts subtly; she spends a night in his personal chambers and suggests bringing in new pillows, curtains, furniture, scented candles, and bathroom appliances for her stuff. Then the full transformation happens.

Levi, pale as ever, refuses to wear sunscreen like any man would. “I'm trying to look after you!" she would insist while running her hand through his face; he's not pleased. He hates the sticky feeling, but it's just the beginning. He pretends to dislike it, but he falls asleep so easily when his face is on her legs, and she's giving him a face massage with a full face glam, mask, and gua sha.

"You have to use it like this, against the hair movement, to create volume so your hair doesn't stick to your scalp," she says, applying molding wax to his hair to give it more volume. Skincare routine? Check. Lip balms? Check. Hairstyles? Check. Personal chambers now looking comfy and homey? Double-check.

And finally, the clothes. He's against it at first, always in uniform, so why bother? But she explains how proportions and colors can make him look taller, and he's tempted to tell her he doesn't care. However, her puppy eyes beg him to wear what she chose.

The result? Levi, who once dressed like a pre-teen from the 2000s, transforms into a model. The LOOKS? He goes out with the vets for a few beers on a day off, and MPs are turning around; even Erwin is surprised. He's supposed to be the high maintenance of the group, not Levi! This transformation becomes the main giveaway that Levi is dating. Glowing skin, glass-like complexion, perfectly cut and smooth hair with ideal volume.

The cherry on top? Suddenly, he's taking days off, going out more, and knows a lot about which restaurants are "not that bad," all while dressing like a Vogue cover.

The only disadvantage? Now he has his pockets full of lip glosses, napkins, hand cream, etc. Women's clothes don't have pockets. How is he supposed to explain to the MPs when they ask for a pen, and he pulls out a pink, glittery lip gloss from his pocket? Not everything is an upside.

I ADORED this question! I hope the answer is somehow what you had in mind! Thank you so so much for sending this.

I hope you and your loved ones are doing great today and stay safe!

Lots of love!

Tags!: @nmlkys @jimoonbeau @fictiondrunk @notgoodforlife @nube55 @justkon @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @thoreeo @quillinhand @humanitys-strongest-bamf Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[cerastes]

Specter: "Have you seen Swordfish? I had some questions regarding the roster for the deployment tomorrow, best to get those inquiries done and settled before showtime, and all that."

Skadi: "I think I saw her with doctor Kal'tsit, they were going towards the dormitories together... Probably her room."

Specter: "Oh, wonderful, then I get to ask the two head honchos about it instead of just the left side of the brain, should make matters more simple."

Skadi: "Hey, now, wait a second, Laurentina. I said to slow down. Surely you don't mean to interrupt them?"

Specter: "Interrupt what? A strategic meeting? I dare think I have a voice in such sundry matters as much as anyone who is ordered to take cannonfire to the face in her duties on a nigh daily basis. The value I can add to any given conversation is not to be understated, my little Orca."

Skadi: "I'd consider that a complaint, where it to come from the mouth of anyone except you, Shark. But seriously, think about it a little... The two of them, alone, not in any of the meeting rooms or the offices, but rather in the dormitories. You can add those twos together with ease."

Specter: "Surely you jest, Orca? Are you suggesting that I could be so uncouth as to intentionally, naively, brazenly sling open the doors to the realm of intimacy between two entangled, probably very sweaty souls? Non-sense! I so confidently stride because I know that's not even a possibility!"

Skadi: "Elaborate. And seriously, slow down."

Specter: "Those two old wells haven't seen a trickle of moisture in years, I'd reckon. They are all-business, no non-sense, well oiled chaste tactical machines! Young, dumb and full of cum? Try old, cold, and full of mold! And I love them so, but let us be real for a microsecond, my little Orca, can you truly picture Swordfish and Miss Kal'tsit doing the Sargon Speedbump? Or the Laterano Excommunication? Perro Style? Get real, dearest, they are more likely to be playing checkers than they are to be making Bolivar Pancakes in there. And she's absolutely in there, reeks of that seawater with a tinge of warmth so characteristic of her behind this door."

Skadi: "First of all, never say any of those words ever again, but you're right, it smells like the Captain in there. There, past that door, with a plaque that very clearly reads 'Kal'tsit'. Let's, perhaps, mind our own business and just field your questions tomorrow early."

Specter: "You truly are insistent on these fantasies of yours, Skadi! It's so cute and endearing how you think that could even be possible! Ahem... Pardon, Swordfish, Miss Kal'tsit, I've got some inquiries regarding tomorrow's sortie that I was hoping to--"

*Specter opens the door and has a full frontal VIP seat peep at Gladiia running her hands deep inside of Kal'tsit's dress, half-lidded red eyes staring back at the intruding shark, straddling the doctor with her lithe yet strong frame, a cougar that's not yet had enough of its meal. The silence is filled only by greedy little gasps seeking to oxygenate two hearts that have very clearly not have had enough of each other just yet, an almost primal hunger in the two pairs of eyes that glared guillotines at the interloper, deafeningly silent yet clearly inquisitive as the trails of saliva that connected their lips lost its tension and threatened to snap*

Specter:

Skadi: "Hm. So, I tried to warn her, but--"

Specter: "Orca, look! Isn't it gallant, isn't it inspiring? Swordfish is hard at work, making a younger sibling for me! Oh, how splendid!"

Skadi: "LAURENTINA!"

Specter: "Oh, how simply joyous! Observe! Swordfish fully intends to cultivate that moist, fertile delta, and from it shall life spring! Orca, we'll care for a brave new Hunter soon, we must be on our best behavior and be good influ--"

Skadi: "With your pardon!"

*Skadi secures the interloping shark with a deft armlock and beats a hasty yet perfectly gallant retreat, closing the door behind her in such a hurry that the entirety of the landship shook. Many a Messenger on-board would remember this as the Localized Earthquake of 1099, which would go on to prompt emergency preparations for a sudden Catastrophe overnight, but that is a story for another time. Back in the dormitory room, as the younger Hunters exfiltrated themselves from the battlefield that was that room, after a cautionary yet eternal few minutes of silence and stillness, just in case that door decided to open again, the senior Hunter dismounted the doctor.*

Kal'tsit: "...Well? So what was that about?"

Gladiia: "My sincere apologies, Dame Kal'tsit, and you have my gratitude for having gone along with my drastic, sudden strategy."

Kal'tsit: "Don't worry about it. So?"

*Gladiia nods and, from a little corner behind Kal'tsit's bedside cupboard, carefully drags out a small table with a checkers board on it. The game is clearly quite progressed, with one side having a clear advantage.*

Gladiia: "I did not want Shark to see me, as some land-dwellers would put it, 'getting bodied' so badly in this showdown of ours."

Kal'tsit: "Because she would never let you hear the end of it?"

Gladiia: "Not for a couple of lifetimes, no."

Kal'tsit: "You have my sympathy and understanding, don't worry about it. Now..."

Gladiia: "...Yes. It's about time I reverse my fortune. Ready yourself, Dame Kal'tsit."

*Kal'tsit then proceeded to win the next game, as she did the previous seven, and they played lots more checkers afterwards*

[merakiui]

*eyes open* corruption kink with crime bosses octatrio

shy, soft, naive and innocent darling gets their attention so they kidnap her. over time, they break her in to be the perfect submissive and breedable pet wife. every day she's tied to the bed while they rail her, and put a pussy plug in her weeping hole, lick anything that drips out despite her whimpers and squirming.

darling is such a simple minded and submissive prize, it's hard not showing her off. after all, that's all she's good for, to be a pretty arm candy for the 3 of them. they don't give her any clothes, she's always naked, and they trained her well so she doesn't complain. they don't let her leave the house, and when she does go to business meetings with them, her pussy, ass and mouth are cockwarming them. or she's sitting on the floor next to them, naked with a collar around her neck. a pretty pet wife good for nothing else except for breeding and showing off. on those meetings, azul sometimes lets other crime bosses, leona, malleus, vil, riddle, idia and kamil, use his pet wife as a cumdump. and if it helps him make a contract, he's not complaining. even if she's sniffling and whimpering at being exposed to and passed around to so many hungry eyes and cocks, her pussy eventually utterly destroyed.

since octatrio have broken her in, and they fuck her boneless literally every day, darling, along with losing her mind, is unable to do anything for herself. it doesn't help that they talk down to her like she's incapable of doing anything for herself. but she comes to believe what they're saying over time. then jade is the one who bathes her, his hands focusing on certain areas more than they should so he ends up fucking her against the bathroom wall. if she's thirsty, she has to get down on her knees and suck floyd off while he's petting her hair and cooing at how cute she looks all naked kneeling on the floor, mouth stuffed with cock and pretty eyes full of tears. azul is the one who feeds her, she's on his lap, pussy cockwarming him, while he gently strokes her hair and coos about what a needy, wanton little thing she is.

when she's bad, they tie her up in the middle of their mansion, all naked with a vibrator in her pussy all day so that anyone can see her. she feels humiliated even if the staff doesn't bat an eye her way, already being used to seeing her naked.

it's worse for her when the trio have days off, she's guaranteed to be fucked silly on every single surface in the mansion. she could be walking in the house, and floyd suddenly pins her to the wall and fucks her against it.

but honestly, what was she expecting? walking around the house naked, perky tits bouncing with each step, pretty pink pussy on display to anyone even with the plug inside her.

there's just something about the 3 of them turning an innocent, pure, naive, soft and wide-eyed darling into someone forced to rely on them and quite literally fucking all disobedience out of her.

OTL anon, this is so good…… omg and you’ve been with them so long, enduring this sort of treatment, that you can’t even remember what your life was like before them or what sort of hobbies you enjoyed or what it’s like to interact normally with others or even what it felt like to be properly dressed. At most, they dress you in lingerie, but it’s always so skimpy and you never feel covered. And you’re so used to being bent over and fucked dumb that when one of the staff talk to you (if they’re daring enough) you expect them to use you as well. >_<

They’ve molded you into a submissive, sex-brained wife who never thinks of anything outside of that. Escape never even crosses your mind most days, and even if it did it’s quickly fucked out of you by one (or all three) of them. You used to fight with what little courage you had, but they’re terrifying crime bosses, smart and strong at levels you couldn’t even compare to. :( it’s only natural you’d eventually be worn down into a shell of yourself, hollowed of everything that made you you and in its place you’re filled to the brim with cum and cock. It also doesn’t help that you’ve developed such horrible separation anxiety, so when Azul tells you you’ll be spending an evening with another crime boss for the sake of a signature on his contract you panic and beg him not to send you away. Anything but that. Azul’s a comforting familiarity; this new man isn’t. You’re so scared and teary-eyed, pleading desperately at his feet. You’re really testing Azul’s restraint; you’re so pretty when you’re sniffling and crying. If not for his contracts, he’d take you right here and now just to see more of your cute face streaked with tears. :)

It’s scary to be in an unfamiliar room with an equally unfamiliar man. Depending on who you’re with, things can go either smoothly or roughly. Riddle’s the third sweetest of them. He’s stern and strict, but he hates to see you cry. He pats your back and shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He may be a crime boss himself, but he functions under lots of hyper-specific rules—rules the trio seem to forgo when dealing with you. Riddle asks if this is what you really want; you can speak for yourself in front of him. He won’t tell Azul. Though he seems sincere, you can’t bring yourself to trust him… it breaks Riddle’s heart when he’s fucking you and you ask him why he isn’t roughing you up. Oh, you poor thing. Sweetness isn’t the same as pain, yet you can’t seem to distinguish the two.

Leona is rough around the edges, but even he knows how to treat a lady. Crime boss or not, he knows very well that you ought to be respected. It’s a shame you’re stuck with that sleazy octo-punk who thinks it right to subject you to humiliation. Although Leona’s just as bad; he’s been given an opportunity here. Do you really think he’s going to sit around and talk cheesy with you? Absolutely not. >:( he’s here to get his dick wet. Why else would he ever willingly sign one of Azul’s contracts? You’re lucky you’re such a tempting herbivore. He’ll give you a fuck better than any of those slimy sea creatures ever could. :)

Kalim is the second sweetest of them. He cares immensely for you. You have to wonder how and why he’s even a crime boss. There doesn’t seem to be a bad bone in his body. Kalim comforts you so wonderfully. He won’t fuck you until you’ve stopped crying and pleading for Azul and you have to promise him to smile. You have nothing to fear here. He’ll take care of you in Azul’s place. Just think of him as a friend! He won’t hurt you. Kalim is so genuine about everything he says that it’s a stark, surprising contrast to the trio. Sex with him feels like a dream because he doesn’t degrade you or choke you near passing out. It’s not dangerous. It’s soft and passionate, yet somehow you feel unfulfilled afterwards. Maybe it’s because he’s not Azul…

Vil is strict like Riddle, but in completely different ways. He can’t believe Azul’s making you walk around naked. At the very least, you deserve equally pretty attire! If you were with him, you’d be given the finest of satins and silks. Vil’s almost offended Azul doesn’t take the opportunity to drape you in all manner of explicit finery. At the very least, he can appreciate the pretty pussy plug you wear. That has some semblance of beauty. But Vil can’t deny that Azul’s trained you well. Even though you’re scared and weeping, you spread your legs so obediently. It’s very cute. Vil supposes he can avoid scrutinizing you for now. It’s much better to shamelessly indulge than it is to be stuck criticizing.

You think Idia might be more scared of you than you are of him. He’s so jumpy and he can’t seem to look at you properly. Is this his first time in front of a naked woman? You wonder why he’s even here. But you recall he and Azul are business partners who often collaborate on certain endeavors. Somehow you don’t feel as nervous as you did before. Maybe it’s because Idia’s reflecting your anxiety and that manages to put you at ease. Though you’ve only ever known how to be submissive, it’s you who ends up taking the lead—at least until Idia familiarizes himself with your body. After that, you’re an incoherent mess. Idia doesn’t look like it, but he has stamina. Maybe it’s just the power of the horny. T-T

Malleus is by far the nicest of them all. He looks intimidating and scary, but he’s so gentle. He lies you down on the bed and spends more time kissing and reassuring you than actually fucking you. And he spends time preparing you! He’s much bigger than you’d imagined, so you’re grateful he’s going to these lengths. You were nervous before, but now you feel so calm and safe with him. <3 Malleus doesn’t intend to scare you, and he greatly dislikes seeing you cry and mourn. You seem to forget all about Azul and the twins when you’re with Malleus, and it’s a night that feels like such a comforting dream—a reprieve from all that usually happens with Azul.

But despite that, no matter which crime boss you’re handed off to, you’re still relieved to be returned to Azul. No matter how sweet they were to you, they still aren’t Azul and your separation anxiety makes you cling to him and the twins. Azul doesn’t like to bully you; he should know what separation anxiety feels like because he can’t stand to be away from you for more than a day. The twins, on the other hand, love to push you to breaking, disappearing for extended periods of time just so you’ll drive yourself mad with worry and anxiety. And when they do return to you you’re desperate to have them in bed. It’s cute how dependent and needy you’ve become. You really can’t exist without any of them, can you?

[the-main-idiot]

my chnt swap AU will now be called

camp this and that

idea originally provided by @fall3nash2339

all info about characters+ art links under cut😋😋!!

(NEWWER DESIGNS WILL COME SOON, ALL OF THESE ARE FROM A SLIGHTLY OUTDATED STYLE)

all the characters have the same physical appearance (except for sydney), personalities and roles are changed

the nurses~

head nurse: Elijah Volkov, he makes all the announcements, and is mentally decaying. Boy oh boy, is he quite the man. Silly little bpd man, collected mental illness like Pokémon. But he's caring, and will do just about anything in his power to help the campers out when needed. He has a knack for elephants, likes sharing fun facts, not only about elephants but anything and everything. No filter😋 if he's thinking it, he'll say it, obviously nothing bad will come of that. Trust issues, yummy.

assistant nurse: Adam Uptin, always carrying snacks with him, he can get you to share how your parents wronged you then shove a bag of skittles in your hand and walk away. Adam isn't a fan of leaving the nurses cabin, let alone his side office, something about being a vampire and ""ahhhh the suns"",,etc etc. Although, you can lore him outside with some sunscreen, an umbrella, and an apple.

camp counselors (all camps stay the same)

Cabin Dung Beetle: Juniper Sloan. long neck, dirty blonde. British man, he's scared of the water (blah blah blah "i'm experiencing the past, present, and future all at once and i can't breathe." yadda yadda yadda) besides the meltdowns and break downs, he's pretty silly

Cabin Grasshopper : Marisol Yuchengco, 👁️dresses in gothic attire, but she's one of the most understating counselors you'll ever meet. Salem de La Marnierre, 👁️scene kid vibes, lowkey really chill though. The two are dating<3 (basically just the same as chnt, just,,, ya'know,, swapped.)

Cabin Magpie Moth: Rowan Chow, the goofiest mother fucker in the entire camp. He can actually produce sound effects, he doesnt choose them or when they happen, that's up to the universe, they just come from his general area. This man runs off of actual cartoon logic, dont question it.<3

Cabin Silkworm: Yvonne Marley, femcel. That is truly all i have to say about her. She pull's misinformation straight from the internet and spreads it like mold on moist bread. Joshua MacHeath, tictok eboy, he can make a killer flower necklace though. Joshua will sit with the kids who can't/won't participate in certain camp activities and teach them how to make bracelets out of, well, anything and everything!

Cabin Tarantula Hawk: Lucille Bertuccelli,👁️ she's an older counselor, a sweetheart though. Not only does she keep cabin tarantula hawk up am running, but she also is in charge of the arts and crafts cabin! Gracie Liu (👁️lowkey, i forgot gracie liu existed, so all of her color are just inverted. no matter how you picture her in ur brain, just invert the colors)

Cabin Ladybug : Soren Baltimore, 👁️a bit of a quiet lad, it wears a cape given to it by fennel. soren wears pants that are cover completely in pockets, those pockets are practically infinite, anything you can imagine, soren has it in its pockets. Fennel Marlborough, 👁️our favorite camp taxidermist (don't tell anyone) they have the art of life preservation down to a tea, now if they can only get em to start moving again. soren and fennel are tightly nit, they made up two languages, one between only them and the other for the entire cabin.

Cabin Widow-spider: Matthew Napoleon, 👁️he is the void, don't be scared of him just based on looks though. Matthew will teach you about things you thought you knew (you didn't). Because matthew cant actually talk, due to all that void, he communicates in a fun mixture of sign language, charades, and various static esc noises. Matthew is also involved, if not running, most water based activities (and sometimes juno+mila helps out around the cabin)

the cafeteria: Mila Alcorn 👁️and Juno Matsouka, 👁️i say "and" instead of giving the two separate descriptions because they are inseparable, trust me, i've tried. these two fish folk work together in the kitchen to provide food for all the campers at camp this and that. Practically gourmet chefs, these two are quite creative. Even though there's two of them, you'll never have to worry about chaos in the kitchen, mila and juno always compromise with each other, causing for some never before tasted flavors

special doodads

head of camp: Warren Earthman,👁️ he's a, stern, tired, grumpy, old man. also the walls in are covered with different brands and types of chainsaws. beside the threatening aspects of him, he also openly picks favorites and doesn't listen to anything that doesn't openly concern him or the government.

the rot: Sydney October Sargent, a weird rotting man who lives in the woods surrounding the camp. Don't get to close to him without a gas mask, please, the spores that emanate off of him are damn near hallucinogenic. Besides the skin falling off his bones, the various species of bugs living within him, and all the mushrooms/fungus living from his decomposing self, he's almost harmless. I mean, he's in shambles, a corpse who just won't let go, just try not to breathe near him.

Martime: Jedidiah A.M. Martime, a man who keep appearing in my dreams, I don't have dreams often, why is here, in color no less. this annoying, clock obsessed, not even real, man keeps trying to tell me that he's "here for you," and "it's ok, you can take a brake, you have enough time." what that man needs to do is pipe down and accept the fact he doesn't even exist in the physical plane.

[usedpidemo]

You're a mess (Le sserafim Kazuha)

“Come on! We’re leaving in an hour, so finish packing whatever you’ll bring!” says your mother, fist knocking on the door like a sandbag. With the constant stomping on the stairs, you’d think there’s some kind of construction or renovation happening, but bags are in the process of being moved out slowly. You’re in the process of vacating the house for the beach, at least for a week.

“Yeah, just give me a few!” you yell back, your default line to her at this point, it might as well be your catchphrase. You know that she knows it won’t take a few. As family, it’s all customary, but she never fails to miss giving you a stark reminder, not even once.

Turning from the bedroom door—sealed shut for an extra layer of security, like the movable desk isn’t enough to let anyone in—you look toward your bed, an utter mess with sheets and pillows scattered all over the room. It’s an abominable sight everywhere you look—except for the figure laying on it.

“Gosh, your place is such a damn mess,” says the young girl, auburn hair flowing everywhere like they’re part of the clutter. With how relaxed she looked, she might as well have just woken up, ignoring the part where she’s dressed for a day out in the sun. “I mean, how old are you again?”

“This isn’t the time to joke around, Zuha,” you reply, offended, while you run to the bathroom, then to the closet, then to the three luggages on the opposite end of the room. Objects are carried from one place to another without purpose, without reason. Rinse and repeat. You’re directionless and aimless, like this is your first time experiencing living in such a chaotic environment, when in reality, this setting has molded you to who you are now. 

“Come on, help me gather my things,” you continue, shuffling random items in your hands as if you have no idea what they are or what function they serve, and she promptly obliges. Thanks to Kazuha’s help, what could have been a laborious period of cleaning and packing is completed in less than five minutes. Sure, your grooming kit is packed with your chips and soda cans, and your game console is stored next to your swimming gear, but you can sort that out later when you’re at your destination.

“And that’s about it, really,” you say, giving your girlfriend a high-five for your combined efforts —when really, she carried most of the work for you. Look at the bags you’ve prepared; they’re extremely bloated to the point of bursting open at any given moment.

“You sure about this? I mean, we’re only going to be away for like a week. It’s not like we’re not leaving the country or anything.” Lifting an eyebrow, Kazuha looks at your baggage, then turns to you, pushing her lip out, showing concern.

“Pretty sure I have everything I need!” you blurt out, nodding to her like everything’s fine, but your plastic smile and heightened tone betrays you. Most of your room is cleared of all its litter and items, mostly stowed away in your luggage as your ‘travel essentials.’ In comparison, Kazuha has prepared only one suitcase for clothing and one backpack for her personal belongings.

“Do you travel like this all the time?” she asks, more of a joke rather than an inquiry, knowing you’ll more than likely never use most of these extra possessions. “I mean, your parents only share one luggage—”

“Yeah! I’m gonna have lots of fun, and I have everything I need!” The words leave you as strangely aggressive, and even though you’re beside her, you’re verbally flailing your arms in self-defense. 

“Sure you do,” she replies, as if mumbling to herself, but still audible for you to hear. Then, she looks at her wristwatch. “We still have fifty minutes. I think we could sort out your bags so it doesn’t blow up—”

“What’s wrong with packing everything?” Face her with an upset expression on her face. “I thought you’d be okay with it, too.”

She blushes right as she looks at you, charmed at your uptightness—acting all cute and sweet, knowing how to make anyone go ‘aww’ and give you a free pass for your misdeeds—but she’s not like mom, who falls for your bluff every single time. “You don’t really need most of those, you know?”

“You know, you’re sounding a lot like mom and I don’t like it.” You pout and puff your cheeks in a last ditch effort to soften the potential blow, but she remains firm against you.

Keeping her gaze at your level, she walks over to your inflated baggage. Defensive as you are, you do nothing to stop her from opening one of your bags and clearing most of the burdensome junk inside. 

“Well, I’m not your mother, but I sure as hell am as concerned as she is,” replies your girlfriend, tone showing frustration—a rare expression. She rummages through the second and third bags, filters out all the unnecessary weight surgically like the first, and gathers them together in a garbage bag picked out from your portable desk. As she slides the desk aside to open the bedroom door and eject your garbage from the room, you’re powerless. 

“How long have you been living like this? Even when I’m here, almost every single day?” asks Kazuha, more of a demand and less of a joke as she closes the door behind her. “I should be sick and done with you, but thank your lucky stars I’m not.”

This was her breaking point, and you knew right away. 

If the little details she makes aren’t enough, her words make it oh-so apparent that you fucked up—severely. The slight force exerted when she swings the door open and close, the sharp, intimidating furrow of her brows, and the blunt drop of her words—she’s the sweetest person you know, a parent’s dream child, and the closest thing to an angel in disguise, whose patience borders on infinite, and gentle with everything and everyone. Now here she is, showing the side you’d never want anyone to see, rear her head with disdain and hate toward you. She’s not screaming her lungs out or destroying your room—at least more than you already have—but it breaks your heart watching her turn against you like this.

And it was all completely avoidable, had you been a better person.

You’d happily forego the trip if it means she’s her usual sweet, bright self again. Hell, you’d happily give up anything she asked if the end result was her looking at you fondly once more.

She sits on the edge of your bed—hers now—and takes her phone out from her pocket. You’re never this terrified of opening your mouth to speak to another person, even to your parents. Clear that lump in your throat. The next words you deliver either prolong or kill this relationship.  

“Zuha,” you say, and it comes out as a soft, terrified whisper, barely audible enough to make her notice you dropping her name. As she turns her gaze toward you, there’s still a strong ire behind those striking eyes. She doesn’t respond, doesn’t note (at least you think she doesn’t) the stiffness on your features, your fingers nervously pressing on each other, only looking on coldly as you force your brain to think maturely for once. Sure, she can wait on that mattress all day, but there’s the self-imposed pressure of time weighing on your head, as if it’s telling you, “If you don't fix it now, it will be ruined forever.”

In theory, it should be so easy. The words are right there, firmly indented on the tip of your tongue, ready to let go when you are; you just have to say them. But then, there’s a few variables that make you hesitant: your sincerity, your expression, your tone. What should be a simple apology becomes an intense, thorough examination of human psychology, and you never prepared for it. 

Still, it doesn’t hurt to try, and you’ll have to live with the consequences, one way or another.

“I’m sorry.”

She lifts an eyebrow, her eyes slowly widening with surprise. “What did you say?”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t hold your stare at her any longer because of shame, and tears are beginning to form on your eyes. It feels as if the light has been removed from you, and you don’t deserve to look at someone as angelic as her. She’s been sweet for the longest time, you’ve taken her kindness and patience for granted. Even worse, she’s younger than you, the only child in her family compared to you and your three siblings, yet she’s shown more maturity than you, with every resource and advantage handed to you on a silver spoon.

“Gosh, Zuha, you’re right. Why are you still here? I hate that you’re my girl, because you deserve way better than this. I know Kirin’s gonna give you that ‘I told you so’ comment when she finds out you had to clean out my damn room. No wonder I’m alone and I have no friends. I’m an irredeemable mess.”

You’re angry—not at her, but at yourself. Only now do you truly realize how deep of a pit you’ve dug yourself in. Even your parents couldn’t get you to open up like this. Maybe this is the way to make things right, but you’re certain she’ll be gone from your life at the top of the hour, no matter how much you cry and beg.

“I don’t care anymore. Leave.” You point your finger at the door, ashamed to show your grief-stricken face to her. It should have been a fun time for you both to strengthen your bonds, but it looks like you’ll be spending it contemplating and loathing in your sadness and weaknesses.

As you grab your fixed bags, you feel a gentle arm on your back. Turn around and she’s right behind you—smiling. 

“I’m not going to leave you,” she says, tenderly, spinning you around then wrapping you in her arms, tugging you close. 

Your cheeks burn a fiery red, caught unawares by her sudden affection. “What?” 

“You’re a mess,” chides Kazuha, pulling you closer to her warmth. Her grin has grown as wide as her unending love. “But you’re my mess. You think I’ll break-up with you because of something as small as this? Gosh, why are you so overdramatic?”

It’s difficult to take it all in: the lowest lows to highest highs in a matter of minutes, especially when she’s peppering your face with a flurry of intimate kisses, and all of a sudden, you’re falling together on the bed, then she’s on top of you a moment later, but there’s still a lesson to be learned—at least you’ll save it for another day.

“Thirty minutes before we leave!” yells mom from the floor below, mildly sounding. Kazuha withdraws her face from yours, looks behind, checks the locked door once, then twice for good measure. Your hands are gripped on her back, past her denim jacket, and glued to her creamy skin. 

“We should save it when we’re there,” you say, slightly lifting your head for a glance at the door, expressing worry. “I mean, we’re already showered and all—”

“Don’t care. I want it now.” Kazuha pins you back onto the sheets again, showers you with another round of loving pecks until she lands a passionate, deep one directly on your lips. Her hands are all over you, caressing your hair, down to your neck, on the fabric of your shirt. With nails so sharp, they can dig through your material and draw blood. You can’t really contend, not when you’re beneath her grip, and she can easily toss you around with her surprising level of strength.

A simple apology isn’t enough, and this is a form of compensation or penance, at least you think it is. You sink further into her kiss, hook your fingers on the hem of her denim jacket like hers on your clothes. The bed gently rumbles underneath you as she playfully rocks you while making out. She’s deeply engrossed in the smooch, like your lips are her primary source of life, and she’s determined to make sure anyone who sees knows who it belongs to. 

Eventually, she does pull back, and you exchange a shedding of clothes. Kazuha lifts your shirt over her head, tosses it onto the floor to be completely forgotten. You do the same with her blue jacket; slide it down her shoulders to join your garment off the bed. Afterward, your eyes meet hers in an intimate, loving gaze. There’s less than half an hour on the clock before you have to leave, and you’re both aware of that, but when her angelic eyes are on yours, as if the light has returned to shine on you, time is the least of your concern.

Her lips press and stain yours, sealing its complete ownership to her. Then she marks you down to your jawline, neck, your bare chest, and belly, in that order, etching strawberry colored lipstick stains on your skin. With her face settling at the edge of your pants, her eyes snap wide at how close she is to your growing tent. So she looks at you, breathing tensely and faint from her love, waiting for your approval. Her smile is so innocent, so charming—a contrast to the eroticness slowly building up—that you can’t deny her request.

How could you say no to a woman with a sweet face like hers?

At the drop of your first nod, her fingers immediately seize your zipper and effortlessly slides it down, dragging your boxers along. Your erection springs up, and her eyes alight with awe, like it’s the first time she’s seen your cock. Slightly you lift your head up, only to be knocked back down to earth when she grabs your shaft with her hand, as if crushing you like a can. 

Uttering a low, breathy groan, you mumble out, “Shit Z-Zuha, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“I know,” she says, that sweet, loving smile glazed on her features, loosening her grip on your cock a little, stroking you at a steady pace. “Just give me a minute.”

What should be a quick minute lasts a lot longer than you imagine. Your airy, prolonged sighs, mixed with the occasional gentle drop of her name are the only sounds that break the stillness radiating throughout the bedroom while Kazuha casually pumps you, forcing quick bursts of precum to spill onto her tender, but firm digits. It’s still relatively early in the day, and you haven’t had lunch yet, but you’re falling dizzier and dizzier, as if you’ve been directly under the hot sun for hours. 

“Here I come,” she says, releasing your shaft from her hand. You hear her loud and clear, but you’re left spiraling from pleasure. She briefly hops off the bed to shed her jeans and underwear before she climbs atop you again. On her lips is a soft smile, suppressing a quiet giggle as you look weak beneath her. 

Kazuha plants a kiss on your temple. It’s soft, but almost emphatic enough to lull you to sleep. Lining herself directly above your erection, her tunnel brushes against your tip, and you both shudder at the slightest touch of each other. Slowly but surely, she lowers her hips down, and you’re lying helplessly, watching as your length gradually disappears inside her. You’re not checking the time, and although her hands are pressed on your torso, you couldn’t waste another second without her pussy folded to your cock. 

Completely impaled to your base, her eyes go shut, and her mouth hangs open, releasing a whiny expletive while her nails dig into your skin. Your eyes briefly go out as well, only to snap open at the mild, audible racket from the ground floor. Your relationship is openly supported by your family and hers, but they definitely won’t approve of this stage—at least not yet. 

“Zuha,” you groan, fighting off the surge of pleasure from her suffocating pussy flexing on your cock. “We gotta stay—”

“Shhhhh.” Kazuha rasps, hinting a little hostility, shuffles a finger toward your lips while she acclimates to your hardness. She’s still soft-sounding, as always, but when it comes to sex, she transforms into completely different person, and it always catches you off-guard. “God, you’re stretching me out.”

Your family is still busy packing downstairs, as proven by the constant slam of the front door and luggage wheels rolling around. It’s a loud commotion, enough to block her whiny, lewd moans from detection. She’s atop you, using you as a toy and a conduit for her pleasure, and you’re on the opposite end, with the last of your will denying her, when you’ve been in the wrong—until now. So you finally give her control, and she kindly does to you in return. You’re connected by two pairs of hands placed on the other’s body: hers pressed on your chest as support, and yours on her slender, toned midriff that puts you to shame most of the time. 

Her hips roll up and down at a slow and steady tempo, delicate and purposeful in stretching herself out with your entire length. She bites her lip, trying to repress her bliss; the immense wave of pleasure she feels with each drop onto your waist makes her scream. Even with the gradual roughness in her movements when it comes to riding you, she’s still graceful, mesmerizing, and hypnotizing, down to her soft, passionate expressions.

“Yes, yes, fuck that feels so good,” she says, tossing her head back gently, lifting her sleeveless shirt over her head within seconds, leaving her as naked as you. Your gaze is magnetized to her newly exposed chest, with her round, compact breasts with their stiff nipples attracting every bit of your attention. It’s only temporary, as she lifts herself before going down on you again, and you share a collective groan of bliss, with your eyes going dark. “I want this cock inside me all day long, that’s how good you fucking feel.”

Her fingers press back down to those familiar deep marks on your chest, still riding you at her tempo, like she’s got you on cruise control. She was always a slow love maker, always preferring the sex to be steady and drawn out, but if they weren’t always the best kind. At this point, you’re certain you’ll be left behind and forgotten, and she’ll still be grinding on you until the sun goes down, but you can’t deny how incredible how suffocating and wet her pussy feels, coating your cock liberally with her wet juices. 

With your hands sliding down her arched back, you meet her halfway, reciprocating each slam of her hips with an upstroke of your cock. Your senses take in everything right in front of you: her constantly changing but still pleasure-ridden face, the endless stream of moans with profanities laced in between, and the steady sound of her ass slapping on your shaft. There’s little to make her change her mind, especially when she’s so into it, so into the act, that you might as well forget about leaving and prepare to stay home when she’s finally done with you.

“We’re almost leaving! Fifteen minutes!” shouts your dad from the ground floor, a timely distraction from the otherwise excessive pleasure drowning you. It doesn’t affect Kazuha in the slightest, and if anything, only seems to arouse and motivate her to do the opposite by firmly pressing you deeper onto your bed as it trembles with your erotic motions. Your bags are still in your room, and the sounds below are dying down, and so will your secret if you don’t keep track of the time.

“Zuha—” you try to blurt, only to be met with her familiar index finger blocking the passage between your lips. She refuses to stop until she’s filled to the brim, and she’ll get hers no matter what. Her eyes snap open, looks at the panicked expression on your face, then to the arms wrapped around her back. With her hand, she leads yours down to her supple, plump ass before planting a kiss on the bridge of your nose.

“I know,” she says, with a flattering, but charming and innocuous grin. She raises her hips and slams them down, makes you grunt sharply while keeping that cheeky smile on her face. She knows. She doesn’t want to. She has no intention to.

Even if she doesn’t outright say it, she’s practically forcing you into submission. Looks are so deceiving, yet you fall for her every single time—and with a cute, endearing face and personality like hers, why wouldn’t you?

The growing thumps on the stairs draw both your gazes to the bedroom door, and your heart is beating wildly from a mix of stress and pleasure. Your thoughts return to the bags placed on the side of the bed—reminder of the short time you have left—and you’re slapping yourself internally for not stopping her before it spiraled out of control. Then there’s Kazuha, bouncing and fucking herself on your cock, purposefully moaning with rising cadence in an act of defiance, going against everything you’ve thought about her. 

“So—close,” she purrs, toying with your chest, giving it playful slaps, as her barely coherent words quickly fall by the wayside, returning to whines and needy mewls. Her urgency to release breaks her control, and her pace quickens; she’s crashing herself onto your cock, foregoing the slow, comfortable grind she’s natural with to chase that high a stone’s throw away. 

Kazuha’s orgasm takes you suddenly, and her sweat filled face, once a realm higher than you, is suddenly inches apart from yours. Her body shudders and trembles, every muscle and nerve in her tensing up from such a powerful climax. The vicious grip of her sopping cunt, freshly drenched with waves of slick, drives you close to breaking point as well, intent on pumping all your hot, creamy seed into her. 

She continues to moan and spew curses, albeit in decreasing tones, as her hips slow down, until her limber, slim figure falls right into your hands, quivering as her orgasm dies down. Realizing her hold on you has gone nonexistent, you muster up the strength to lift yourself off the bed. Ignore the puddle that has formed on the sheets. With a worn out Kazuha in your arms, you bring her with you to the other room, slamming it shut and locking the door once you’re inside.

“We’re almost leaving, you two! Hurry up!” says your dad as he takes the remaining luggage in front of your bedroom before going down the steps again. He remains seemingly naive to your sinful act performed behind closed doors, suppressed behind another layer of defense: your bathroom. You’re supposed to be cleaning up, but here you are, dirtying up your house even more.

“Yeah! We’re coming!” you yell out from inside the shower, briefly looking behind as you pump your hard cock frantically inside Kazuha’s tight walls. It’s a familiar but different position compared to the bed. Her slender legs are wrapped around your waist, and your cock is still buried deeply inside her, but you’re carrying her in your arms this time around, and you’re dictating the pace as you fuck your girlfriend into further submission, insistent to get one off in her before leaving. 

Five minutes before the start of a new hour, your soaked watch tells. Forget it. You need yours too. 

Fortunately, he doesn’t hear your girlfriend and the lewd, arousing way she says your name as you pound her at her most sensitive spots, even as it bounces off the bathroom walls. Sure, there’s also that shower raining down both your naked, sweaty bodies as additional blockage, but even the sound of her flesh slapping against yours is loud enough to cause suspicion from a wary member. Nevertheless, it doesn’t deter you from using Kazuha to your liking, without care for her comfort or her pleasure, only focused on indulging in her rapturous, silky heat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries in your ear, resorting to the most common word available to express her sexual arousal and elation. Her hands dig into your nape and your soaked hair, practically clinging to you as her life support. The way you both fucked each other was completely different, but this hits harder for her, and it accelerates her second climax ahead of yours. “Fuck—gonna—ah!”

Kazuha utters another sharp, deafening cry as you bring her back up to that high again. By some miracle, you don’t let the wetness make you slip; it only spurs you on. Pin her against the wall, still fucking her hard through her orgasm, resolute on setting yours off. Your soft mouth grows some fangs, marks her sensitive collarbone with a fresh, sore red coat. This is your way of getting back at her in the most subtle way—and possibly the least, with how strident she sounds.

She manages to gain the strength to forcefully turn your gaze to hers, trying to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, but you’re still thrusting in her, unwilling to turn down the roughness. The butterflies in your stomach grow with every agonizing second. You’re so fucking close, so ready to finally let go—

After the constant shaking of her tight figure, she recaptures you for another intimate kiss, and it’s what ultimately sets you off. Your tongue slips into her mouth as you give in, groaning in her as you release thick ropes of cum in succession. Penetrating her depths, you fill her with every drop of your seed, draining yourself empty inside her thirsty, greedy cunt.

“So warm. So full,” she mumbles, giving your lips a soft peck in appreciation as you come down from that euphoric, heavenly high. 

You slump against the wall, going through post-orgasm exhaustion, with Kazuha still in your clutch. The noises that previously filled the bathroom are overtaken by the continuous, rushing flow of shower water, with your deep, heavy breaths in second place. Breaking the kiss, you rest your head against her reddened collarbone, having forgotten the urgency of time—and ignoring the incessant knocking on your bedroom door and shouting of your parents echoing beyond two layers of walls. 

“Do you think they know?” she asks, clingy and shuddering but satiated.

Looking over your shoulder as the barrage of demanding, door breaking knocks continues, you chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

(A/N: Another fluffy-ish one, and Kazuha looks like one of the softest girls ever, so she deserves the fluff treatment. This was supposed to be another lengthy one-shot with way more story, but I was really fixated on one specific scene, which is what resulted in this fic. Next one's gonna be very story based, for sure ;) Thank you for reading!)

[the-californicationist]

they help you practice

Team 141/Reader - Gangbang TW: explicit consent given, polyamory, vaginal sex, anal sex, face-fucking, double penetration, spitting, come as lube, bulging, Ghoap sex, bukkake, degradation, orgasm control. Let me know if I missed one, I'm sorry. Proceed with caution, please.

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “...or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, and his cock was as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slag, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come inside of you yet, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

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[jksprincess10]

Are we out of the woods 4. I can't hide from you like I hide from myself

Summary : Your father is a dangerous man who has a lot of enemies. One day, you’re taken from your home by force to go to a safe cabin in the woods to be protected from an unknown danger by three of his men: Ironhead, Pope and Catfish. You’re not really a nature enjoyer, but in your boredom, you discover a new love for nature. You also get to know the men working for your dad and interest sparks between you and the mysterious and silent Francisco.

CW: canon-like violence, explicit smut, reader is kind of a princess at first, talks of divorce, drugs & alcohol, talks of addiction, slight age gap (reader in her mid 20s, frankie in his late 30s), jealousy, tension, frankie is a mess.

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You asked for a party to celebrate your victory. After all, the fridge was overflowing with unopened beer bottles. You felt like the boys were finally respecting you and not seeing you only as an unbearable princess. So, after a well-earned nap, you got ready for the, everyone excited like teenagers hosting a secret house party.

You wear a low-cut shirt with a cardigan over it and comfortable, stretchy jeans that molds your ass. You don’t know why you feel the need to dress to impress. Well, you knew, but you were in denial. You couldn’t help but to be drawn to Francisco, even more so that he wanted to push you away so badly. Wanting something you couldn’t have has always been more exciting.

You roam around the cabin, trying to find the boys. You guess they’re all hiding in their shared bedroom. So, you knock on their door and open it when they don’t immediately respond.

“What are you guys – ”

Santiago comes up to you in a hurry, tan hands trying to cover your eyes.

“Everything here is very legal and there’s nothing to see.”

“Oh, come on.”

You take his hands in yours to bring them down. They feel rough and dry. You wonder if Frankie’s feel the same. When you’re finally free from Santi’s hands, you observe the scene before your eyes: the boys are on the carpet and are visibly rolling joints meticulously, distributing the green dried-up herb evenly on paper before rolling it up expertly. It seems like they have done this their whole life. You sit down on the carpet with them, your legs under you.

“I thought you guys were doing crack or something.”

They all laugh. Except Frankie, who clears his throat and passes his hand under his cap to tame his hair; something he often did when he was nervous.

“We didn’t know if you’d be up for it, and we didn’t want to scare you.” Will explains.

“Never smoked, but I’m up for a new experience.” You shrug.

Your dad watched you way too close for you to do one thing out of line. But he wasn’t there. And for once, there were no cameras. Well… probably. You could never be sure with him.

When your eyes go from the messy room to the men around you, your eyes lock with Frankie’s for a second. He still looks stoic; his broad shoulders under his light blue shirt visibly tense, legs covered in dark washed jeans, straight like a soldier’s. Only his fingers are indicating the slight hint of movement as he plays with the slim leather bracelet around his wrist.

“Well, this is your party.” Frankie finally says after clearing his throat and looking away.

“Perfect, so let’s do whatever the lady wants.” Pope agrees, slapping his best friend on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

“I’m thinking we could light the fireplace and take the party there when you’re ready.” You suggest.

After you have all eaten, you start drinking. You really didn’t like the taste of beer, but you knew you’d get shit for it if you complained. When you hit the bottom of a few drinks, your personal bodyguards decided to take out the weed. You were feeling pretty relaxed already, so you took only a hit, while the others shared a few. You remember vaguely your high school friends telling you about what it smelled like. You didn’t really like it. But you’d like to smell it on Frankie’s clothes.

 While you smoked, you talked about their code names. The boys shared the stories behind them. There were all sorts of heroic stories. It’s like they lived a whole lifetime before getting stuck here with you.

“I want a code name too.” You whine.

“We’ll think of one.” Will promises. He seemed to be the least affected one by the mixture of drugs and beer.

Minutes later, everything was funnier and a bit more blurry than usual.

“Okay so Frankie, please take off that ugly ass cap.” You say with a giggle, trying to make him laugh. You crawl to him and try to take it off his head. When he protests, you add: “It’s my party. I won the bet.” You extend your arm and steal it from him, hiding it under your ass. You like how messy Frankie’s hair looks; brown curls untamed around his head. You wanted to run your fingers through them, but you still had some self-control left.

You talk of random stuff with the boys, until they suggest a game. You have a brilliant idea. You put one of the empty bottles inside the circle formed by your bodies.

“Fuck no, we’re all men and you’re alone.” Santiago rolls his eyes. “I’m not kissing you, pendejo.” He says to Frankie.

“Isn’t that the most fun thing about it? Let’s see who I get to kiss, huh.”

It spins and spins until it the tip stops in front of Santi.

“Come on Santi, rules are rules.” You giggle as you invite him to get closer with a movement of your index finger.

You almost miss how Frankie looks away and sips on his beer quietly as Santiago crawls to you. Your hands grab him by the collar, and you press your lips on his. He’s not a bad kisser, but you don’t like the way his stubble scrapes your skin. When you two separate, you see that Frankie has left the room entirely.

“He’s not fun.”

“Maybe this isn’t the most responsible thing to do when you’re fucked out of your mind.” Will shrugs. “You should go lay down.”

Santiago looks disappointed, but Will shoots him a reprobating look.

You get up with some difficulty, holding on to furniture to help. You find your way through the halls and see that the men’s bedroom is open, and Frankie is nursing his beer, sitting on one of the bunk beds.

“Hey, party pooper.”

Francisco sighs dramatically and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He really tries to ignore you, but you sit beside him. Too close. You flood his mind with your floral perfume hidden under the strong scent of weed and wood.

“Please leave.”

“What’s wrong, Francisco? Tell me.” You slur.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” He says abruptly, cheeks red.

“Hmmmm.” You lay your head on his shoulder and look up at his face. “Your hair looks nice. I wanna touch it. Please.” You don’t wait for approval as you lift your hand and almost get to your target, but he stops you by wrapping his hand around your wrist. It’s softer than Santi’s, you notice. His warm brown eyes are on you.

“Can you stop trying to get into everyone’s pants?”

“You don’t understand anything, Fish.” You respond with annoyance. You clumsily put your legs over his, straddling his thighs. “M’not trying to get into Santi’s pants.”

He sets his beer down and hesitantly wraps his arm around you to keep you steady. You feel goosebumps even though you have many layers of clothing separating you from his skin.

“Then, what was that earlier?” You can’t put your finger on it, but he sounds… heartbroken and miserable.

“Was trying to kiss you, asshole. But you don’t let me in. You don’t – you don’t talk to me, Frankie.”  Your cheeks heat up. You hate how everything seems to be coming out of your mouth at once without you being able to stop them, like blood coming out of a fresh wound.

You suddenly feel hot, and your arms fight with your cardigan to rip it off, all while Frankie still holds you so you don’t hit your head on the ground.  

“I don’t want you to see what’s inside, cariño. It’s broken and put together with tape.”

“Please.” You press your forehead against his.

Your proximity makes it hard for him to push you away. He caves in, a soft palm coming up to cup your cheek as he pulls to let you get a taste of him. His lips are chapped, his beard soft and he tastes like beer and leftover weed. His mouth moves softly against yours, following the rhythm you set. You feel like your body is exploding in fireworks, sparks of you and him mixing in the night sky. You deepen the kiss, tongue exploring his mouth and lips sucking around his tongue as you push him down on the bed. You already feel how hard he is beneath you, and your mind is blurred with want. You moan his name, and he swallows the sound.

“Shh…” He never sounded so soft, and you wanted to bottle the sound for the next time he was grumpy and telling you to fuck off.

The door was still slightly open, and you could hear the laughs and animated conversations between Santi and Will. They probably thought you were asleep and frankly, you did not care. Your mind was chanting at you to keep Frankie close. Your fingers tangle in his hair, caressing and pulling. You see the way his eyes roll in his skull when you pull.

“You like that, Frankie baby?” The pet name falls out of your lips like a known song. 

“Yes.” He breathes.

On their own accord, your hips start moving, desperate to get any friction. The rough fabric of your jeans gives you some relief, but it’s not enough. You want him and you’re consumed by the thought. His hands move from your waist to your tits, and he massages your sensitive breasts through your bra. You camouflage your sighs of pleasure with kisses along his throat. He smells so fucking good, like the forest on a fresh and sunny morning. He thrusts his hips into yours roughly, and you realize he’s also desperate.

“Fuck, I could come just like that.” He whispers.

You smirk against his skin as your hips move against his, the inseam of your pants mixed with his hardness rubbing deliciously against your pussy. He feels so fucking big, and you want to take him everywhere, but you’re too consumed by your body chasing its pleasure to think about undressing.

The snap of his hips is enough after a while to send your body to a new peak, with his hands grabbing your tits.

“You’re so beautiful.” He groans like it pains him before trapping your mouth with his, tongues mixing as he chases his own high. You help him through it, until you feel his hips stutter while he comes. Hard.

You get off him and let your body fall beside his. You barely have time to relax and register what you just did when he says:

“Fuck, go.” Frankie pushes you as you hear footsteps. He hides the wet front of his pants with his blanket.

You get out of the bed as fast as you can and get out of the room without looking back, stumbling and holding the walls that were spinning, trying to look as natural as possible.

Thankfully, the boys are too high to see how weird you act as you uncoordinatedly walk to your room, grinning from ear to ear.

[madamevirgo]

Hi! This might sound really… outlandish, but I have been thinking about Thena using her cosmic energy in bed ;) Could you write a jealousy/ angst smut fic with Thena x reader , please?

Fireworks

Pairing: Thena x (f!)reader

Words: 2443

Warnings: (bad) smut, top Thena, jealousy, public sex, bit of angst, so much cheesiness I might puke, don’t read if you’re a minor but I’m not your mom so do what you want.

A/N: Tis I! Madame Ghosts Virgo coming to you with my first post in months (?) life has gotten insane. College, work, whoever decided we had to actually do something for a living? Got sick, got sick again, and as I was laying in my sick bed (let me tell you, the flu decided to remind us that she was indeed THAT bitch) my mind came up with the most horrifying car sex scenario and I remembered this request and kinda ran with it? (@poeticgal5 I’m so sorry if this doesn’t live up to your expectations but thanks for the inspo). It is 2:42am so even though I reread myself like a million times, you might find some mistakes. Also, welcome to my first public smut. Okay horn-dogs, enjoy.

The Eternals through the years had learned to fit in. They molded and changed as was asked of them by the times. Even Gilgamesh, in his own peculiar way, adapted to the years. They all did, with the exception of Thena. Blame it on Mahd Wy’ry or her stubbornness to let go of a time where human connection was valued above all; she simply refused to immerse herself in today's world more than necessary.

Then came you. Innocent in a way but with eyes full of pain and trauma. You were determined to have her experience all the joys that this world had to offer. Not that you had much experience with them yourself. A Black Widow since birth, born and raised in the Red Room, you knew nothing but darkness. You craved some light, maybe that’s why you latched onto Thena the moment you met her. She shone bright, literally and figuratively.

Since the moment you met her, you had only one goal: experience all the joys in the world with who turned out to be the love of your life.

It wasn’t an easy task. Thena was stubborn (and scary), but you were persistent and perhaps even more stubborn. A trait you’ve always paid heavily for in the Red Room.

So you didn’t let her disinterest affect you. You’ll admit that her initial harsh words gave you a pause and stung your heart a bit, but you didn’t let that stop you. Soon, she started to give in.

Thena would never admit it, but she enjoyed experiencing life with you. Although she always did so with an air of disgust and boredom, behind each sarcastic and sassy comment could be found appreciation.

Appreciation for you, and surprisingly: life.

With the holidays, came new experiences. Tons of endless new experiences. Every year, it was something. One year it was baking, another it was skiing, another it was carolling (which she learned had nothing to do with the movie with that blonde actress with the fur coat). This year, it was a New Year’s Eve party.

Of course, Kingo had been the one to come up with the idea.

Of course, you’d been more than happy to jump at the opportunity to experience something new. As always.

Of course, Thena had agreed to it in the end. As always.

Because you could show her everything there was to see in every universe, but nothing would top the joy she felt seeing a smile light up your face.

So she helped plan, she got dressed, and she made nice with the people. Even those who insisted on calling her ‘Athena’.

All in all, things were going as well as they could go given that you hadn’t been paying attention to her all evening since you’d been running around playing the perfect hostess. Things got significantly worse when some leggy blonde started following you everywhere and making you laugh.

She tried to keep her cool because if she didn’t, things would get bad and she didn’t want to ruin this night for you. But the way this girl kept touching you was testing her control. She must’ve zoned out for a second because she suddenly felt a hand on her arm. Of course, she’d recognize your touch no matter what state she was in.

“Come with me?” You asked once her eyes met yours. And she nodded. Being with you was one of the greatest joys of her life.

You dragged the blonde goddess out and into the garage, and soon enough, you were driving away from the loudness of the house. Thena had not yet been able to grasp the concept of driving. She said it confused her. You suspected that she liked being a passenger princess.

“Where are we going?” She asked as it seemed like you were getting further away from the house, and into a road she’d never taken before.

“You’ll see. We’re almost there.” You said with a smile in her direction.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a cliff that overlooked the city. The view was magnificent and the air pristine.

“If you’re planning on going sky diving, let me stop you right now. My healing abilities don’t extend to others and I don’t fancy burying my girlfriend.” She said as she gripped your wrist to stop you from getting out of the car.

“I’ve jumped out of a plane before - without a parachute, might I add.” You said with a frown.

“Yes, I know, you’re a big bad Black Widow. I don’t care. Once was already too much. I’m so glad you know how gravity works.” she insisted, making you roll your eyes.

“It was more than once.” You mumbled. Which only made her deadpan. “Would you just let us get out of the car? I’m trying to be romantic.” You finally snapped a bit. After a few seconds, she relented and you stepped out of the véhicule, breathing in the fresh air.

You glanced at Thena and saw her with her eyes closed. Taking it in. She always felt best when she was surrounded by nature. You leaned against the hood of the car and watched her for a few moments. She was majestic. A fact that you knew, but never ceased to leave you in awe.

“You wanna talk about what made you almost have an episode?” You finally asked.

“I’m surprised you even noticed.” And although she didn’t open her eyes, you could sense the storm behind them.

You leaned forward, grabbing her hand and pulling her into you. Both of you, leaning on the car for support.

“What could possibly stop me from noticing you, my love?” You wracked your brain trying to find what she was talking about, coming up blank.

“That leggy blonde, she was all over you.” Whispered your girlfriend, not meeting your eyes. It finally clicked.

“Thena, are you jealous?” That was a first.

Thena and you had experienced many emotions, jealousy had never been one of them. It had to be noted that you never really interacted outside of your small circle of comfort and they all were respectful of your relationship or too afraid of Thena to try anything. So this was definitely new. Your heart filled with warmth at another manifestation of Thena’s love for you. You grabbed her chin and gently made her face you.

“Nobody has my attention but you. Although my eyes may not always reside on you, my mind and heart always do. Worry not my love, for me, there’s no one else but you.” And you sealed that promise with a kiss.

“Cheesy,” said the goddess as you pulled away, but the bright smile on her face showed her true sentiment even as she rolled her eyes.

“Only for you.” And you added a cheeky wink.

“Is there a particular reason why you’ve brought us up here? Or did you just want to get me away so I wouldn’t lose control around the humans?” She asked once you both settled down.

“This is the best place to see fireworks in the whole city. Another joy for us to experience. You know, other than the ones caused by bombs or actual explosions.”

“You do know I’ve seen my fair share of fireworks, right? During our time in Babylon, Sprite would create some pretty phenomenal ones. Nothing has compared ever since.” At times, you would catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes as she reminisced about the past.

In this instance, you couldn’t help but feel a bit dejected. She must have seen the look on your face because she amended quickly.

“But this one will be even more special and incomparable because I’ll be sharing it with you.” She caressed your cheek with her hand, and you reached up to grab it in your hands.

“I’m sure.” And you knew that the smile you gave her wasn’t convincing, perhaps to someone less versed in the subject that was you; but not to Thena.

With a sigh, you lay down and pulled her next to you, on the hood of the car. It occurred to you that you should have grabbed a blanket for comfort. You suddenly worried that her back would hurt. This whole experience was turning out to be the opposite of what you had hoped it would be.

“We should head back. The others will be wondering where we are.” Before you could fully get up, she grabbed your hand, making you look down at her.

“I’m sure they’ll manage. Besides, I thought you wanted to see the fireworks.”

“I just realized that we came a bit too early and I forgot to bring blankets. I don’t think the hood of the car will be comfortable for long.” You wanted to cry. Like everything you planned for Thena, you wanted tonight to be perfect. It was, however proving to be an utter failure.

“I’m very comfortable, but if you’re not, we can go. Although I was hoping to have you experience something new, and you’ve set the scene for it so beautifully.” She got up and before you knew it she was standing next to the passenger’s door. The glint in her eyes told you she was up to no good, and the shiver that ran up down your spine told you you’d love every second of it.

“I’m sure they can go without us for a little bit longer.” You whispered as she slowly approached you, like a hunter creeping on its prey.

“Uh huh.” She wrapped her arms around you and claimed your lips with hers.

If it wasn’t for the car, your legs would have given out. Every time she kissed you, you turned to mush; but there was something in her energy tonight that was different.

“I have so much energy pant up from not killing that leggy blonde. I think it could be better invested in you. Don’t you agree?” She pulled back from whispering in your ear to bite the lobe and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Yes.” Was all you could manage to say as you wrapped your arms around her to steady yourself.

This seemed to be all the answer she needed before letting loose. She pushed you down on the hood of the car and the telltale gold of her powers that occurred when she was manipulating cosmic energy appeared at each one of your wrists, restraining you to the car.

“I don’t know who will enjoy this more. What I know for certain is that neither she nor anyone will ever be able to make you feel as good as I’m about to make you feel.” If that was her certainty, yours was that your pussy was currently the Nile river.

She rolled up your shirt over your head and locked your lips in a searing kiss that made your head spin from lack of oxygen; before slowly, tortuously kissing her way to your boobs. Neither of them was left without attention. She was sucking and biting on one while squeezing and palming the other with her hand, making your back arch in pleasure.

Thankfully, you could feel that she wasn’t in a teasing mood tonight. Right when you thought it couldn’t get any better, she started sending bursts of cosmic energy into your body with each bite and pinch.

You were suddenly grateful that you had driven you both up here so no one could hear the noises you let out.

“Thena, please. More.” The way you were doing your absolute best to trap her between your legs told her exactly where you needed her.

She removed her mouth from your boob and continued trailing kisses until she reached the gates of absolute pleasure. One kiss, two. It was like a silent prayer that she sent to the universe; thanking it for the feast she was about to taste.

Then she dived in and you could have come right then. You let out a loud moan and the hand that had been left on your other boob disappeared before two fingers were shoved in your mouth for you to suck on.

Again and again and again she cherished your clitoris, drinking you up like the last glass of water on earth. Her powers had always intrigued you. The beauty of it all. But the way she was using it to pleasure you right now? You would’ve given what you didn’t have to keep this feeling from ever ending.

And then she stopped. You were quick to open your eyes with a glare. How dare she deny you such pleasure? Of such a euphoric feeling? It was yours to take and hers to give.

“Relax, my love,” she pressed a kiss to your lips and then your cheek, making your gaze soften. “I’m not quite done with you yet.” And then she pushed into you.

Thena and you had used a strap more than once, but never one made from cosmic energy. It was almost alive; an extension of her, pulsating inside of you and that energy was spreading in your insides. It was pleasure like you’ve never experienced, and it felt almost sinful not to die immediately after.

“Fuck, right there Thena. Rig-” you couldn’t breathe, in the most fabulous way. It was like breathing, speaking, would take away from your experience of this feeling, this moment. You couldn’t have that.

Thena was a dancer, graceful yet impactful in her movements. They were precise and direct and carried everything that couldn’t be said. You saw it in her fighting style, and you felt it in the way she was fucking you.

“I love you”

“We are now one.”

“I love you.”

“You are an extension of me.”

It almost felt like she was speaking all these thoughts directly in your head. You honestly didn’t want to think about the probability of that. Mostly because you reached your peak and as you came undone and felt warmth unleash inside of you, you had to open your eyes to make sure you weren’t going crazy when you heard fireworks above you.

“Happy New Year,” said your blonde girlfriend, as she tried to catch her breath.

“The happiest.” You mumbled as you pulled her close and kissed her forehead.

You could have fallen asleep right there, consequences be damned. And you would’ve if it wasn’t for Thena speaking.

“I think we dented your car.” She mumbled.

“That’s okay. It’s one of Kingo’s.” You mumbled right back.

You would get up eventually. But for now, you wanted to enjoy this new bond that had been formed between you two.

[androgynealienfemme]

"Although I know my identity to be femme, I am not saying that all lesbians are either butches or femmes, nor am I saying that they should be. Many lesbians seem to be perfectly comfortable being androgynous, being femmes with femmes or butches with butches, or just being "themselves." I am not trying to fit all of the lesbian nation into my paradigm; what I am trying to do is broaden the lesbian paradigm so that women like me not only fit but are celebrated in our own right, and not derided for not being real lesbians.

I am also aware that some lesbians change their identities depending on their lovers or the time of their lives. These roles are not static, nor should they be. I know a handful of butches who have gone femme and a few femmes who have gone butch, and I say mazel tov. I also know quite a few butches who, in the privacy of their own homes, like frilly teddies and makeup (butches in drag, or transvestite femmes?). And many, many femmes who are carpenters and softball players and who like butches on their backs in bed.

I also need to say that it is not only butches who attract me. All kinds of women attract me, and for that matter, femme women who have a particular attraction for me, because they validate me by being role models who teach me that femininity is not weakness.

We have limited our options by desexualizing our community. The rhetoric says that we develop our politics from our personal experiences, except, of course, when our personal experience is too sexy. In our effort to examine the sexual exploitation of women, we have denied our lesbian heritage, as well as our current options.

Discerning what is femme and what is butch is very difficult, since most of us who use these terms use them to define who we feel we are, and do not mold our behavior to fit existing stereotypic roles. I call myself femme because it describes who I feel I am, once I figured out it wasn't a bad word. It does not mean that I love to cook, or that I never wear pants, or that I can't paint a house or seduce a woman. It does mean that I love in the feel of my femininity, that I experience my essential self, sexually and socially, ad female.

I love to dress up pretty for my lover. I love the feel of lace on my body against the feel of strong woman hands. I love to curl up in my lover's arms. I love our oppositeness- her starched white shirts against my silky ones, her sneakers and loafers in the closet next to my girly shoes, her short, neatly trimmed nails against my longer polished nails. I love the power of my femmeness, the traditional feminine power to seduce and over-power her with a gentle touch."

"Femme-Dyke", Arlene Istar, The Persistent Desire, (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

[unreadpoppy]

The making of heirs

Raphael x Gwen

Read on AO3

(Btw this is the same universe as Betrayer and Runaway Bride, it can be read on it's on own, but maybe reading both of them will help.

Warnings: 18+ this is smut. Just smut with a smidge of something in the beggining, but besides that, just straight sex. Breeding kink, there's some hands on neck but no actual choking, i think this might qualify as mating press? Also dirty talk near the end. P in V sex.

A/N: Second time i write smut let's go bitches. Also this is me setting up future dad!phael

Children. 

The topic had been on Raphael’s mind for some time. He didn’t particularly like them. They demanded attention and made a mess everywhere. Mol had been an exception, but she was already a bit older when they met, and not a toddler or a babe. 

But the idea of reproducing had its appeals. With the proper discipline and education, he could mold his children to his desires. They would be loyal to him, obey his commands, they would be the only ones he would entrust with positions of power, as they wouldn’t dare to go against their father. Besides, in the long run, he would be creating a line of tieflings, all tied back to him, just as the past archdevils had. 

Raphael looked across the table he was eating dinner from. His wife, Gwendolyn, sat on the other side. He started imagining what their children would look like. A little girl, with the same pink skin and purple hair as her mother, but with his eyes and four horns. Or a boy, as handsome and strong as his father, with the same easy going smile as Gwen’s. 

His thoughts took on a more lustful turn. He imagined ravishing her again and again, finishing inside of her until there was no doubt that his seed had taken place. He thought of her already fat belly growing bigger and bigger with his heir. 

Raphael was suddenly brought back to reality when Gwendolyn asked “What’s on your mind?” 

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

“You have that look on your face.” She grabbed a glass of wine. “The one you make when you’re scheming.” Gwen took a sip, looking at him.

“I was thinking about you.” 

“Really?” She put the glass down, raising one brow.. “And what about me were you thinking of?” 

He smirked. “About you carrying my heir in your womb.” 

If Gwen had been drinking, she would have choked. “You want to have a child, Raphael?”

He got up from his seat. “Think about it.” Raphael slowly walked towards her. “It is the next logical step. Mephistopheles and Asmodeus both had lineages of tieflings traced back to them. It is only fair I have mine. A way to secure my - our - legacy.” At this point, he had walked behind her chair and put his face next to hers, whispering in Gwen’s ear. “Just imagine. A bunch of little ones, running around, a mix of the two of us. You wouldn’t be alone.” 

“It’s a tempting thought.” She took a deep breath, moving her head slightly. “And how many children would the Lord of the Nine Hells want?”

Raphael sneaked one hand towards her neck, holding it and pulling her head backwards, making her gasp. “Eight, I think, would be a good number. One for each layer of hell, except this one, of course.” He kissed her open mouth. Raphael tightened his hold on her neck, just slightly enough to cause pressure but not to cut air supply. 

Eventually, he let go of her, allowing Gwen to breathe. She turned around in her seat to look at him. “Surely you don’t expect me to carry eight children.” She stood up, putting a hand on his shoulder, while his eyes were fixated on her heaving chest. “How about we settle on three?” 

Raphael took the hand on his chest and raised it towards his mouth, kissing her fingers. “We can discuss that later.” He murmured. “Now, let’s focus on producing the first one.” 

Gwen bit her lip and nodded her head. Not even a moment later, his mouth was once again on hers, one hand holding her cheek with force, while the other went to the back of her dress, trying to untie it. With her hands, Gwen began to slowly unbutton his vest. 

Eventually, Raphael grew frustrated and let go. He put his hands on top of the dress and in one movement, ripped the garment open, leaving her in her underwear. She gasped. “I really liked the dress.” Gwen removed her undergarments before he had any chance of ruining them as well. 

Raphael made quick work of his own clothes and replied. “I’ll get you a hundred thousand as a replacement, pet.” He was once again on her, hands roaming her soft flesh. 

Gwendolyn grabbed him by the back of his neck and reached a hand down his chest, slightly grazing his skin with her nails until she reached his half hard cock. She grabbed it, gently, rubbing it up and down. Raphael had one hand on her breasts, toying with her nipple, while the other was at her sex, inserting one finger than another, his thumb stroking her clit. 

As they were both getting close to their climaxes, Raphael snapped them away to their bed. As soon as Gwen’s back hit the mattress, the archdevil raised her legs, putting her calves over his shoulders and pushing himself inside her in one fluid motion, their previous ministrations facilitating the process. 

She moaned loudly as he pounded into her. One of Raphael’s hands wrapped around Gwen’s neck, squeezing it just a bit. 

“You take me so well, look at you.” He said, in a raspy voice. Gwen’s reply came in the form of a moan. His placed his free hand over her belly, grasping and kneading the flesh. “I can already see it, you round with my heirs.” 

“Raphael…” She managed to say, voice raspy. 

“I’ll breed you over and over again, until there is no doubt that you’re pregnant. Everyone will see how you’re mine.” He let go of her neck, and instead, held her cheek. “Tell me you want this.” 

“I…I want this.” She breathed out. 

“You’ll carry all the children I give you.”

“Yes, yes! I’m-I’m so close.” Gwen moaned. The hand on her belly traveled to her clit, rubbing it until she threw her head back, reaching her orgasm. Raphael leaned forward, engulfing her mouth with his and bringing her knees close to her chest, drinking up the scream that left her as she climaxed. 

A few more hard thrusts and he soon reached his peak, finishing inside her. As they both came back, breathing heavily, tears of pleasure running down Gwen’s face, she noticed that he continued inside her. 

Raphael saw that and smirked. “To make sure not a single drop goes to waste.” He laid on top of her, weight almost crushing. She threw her arms around him.

“If we keep doing it like this, I won’t object to the eight children.” Gwen whispered.

Raphael kissed the side of her head. “Good.”

[arealphrooblem]

Terms of Surrender -- The End!

So I already had the ending written a long time ago and decided to finish it up since I left you guys on such a bad cliffhanger lol. Thank you for all the enthusiasm for this fic, I really did not think anyone would read it lol.

Summary: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates

Part one here

Part five here

The Queen leaned back against the molded, damp walls of the cell and tried to find the relief. She had always expected to be here and now she finally was. Away from sunlight, time passed and did not pass. Time did not exist. She could not say if she had sat there for a day or a week.

The cut on her neck stung each time she swallowed. The urge to pick at the scab felt overwhelming at times, and only the fear of infection in this filthy cell kept her from touching it.

Eventually someone would come to torture her for information on whatever scheme her husband’s friend had planned. She had no information to give and she wondered idly if they would kill her for her perceived stubbornness or if she would make up an elaborate lie in order to broker for any relief.

The fear of it glowed dully through the fog of her apathy, so faint she barely acknowledged it. In fact, she almost welcomed the opportunity to get it over with. She did not blame the Warlord for not believing her. As the last remaining heir to her family’s name, she was a beacon for anyone resisting his rule. Just as she thought her lush captivity too good to be true, he must have thought her surrender and cooperation too good to believe. How easy would it have been for her to merely bide her time and lure him into false security?

She had no way to explain herself that did not sound like a desperate, self-serving lie. That felt more unbearable than her impending execution: that she would die with the Warlord thinking she was nothing more than a manipulative snake, that their strange but beautiful connection was all in his head.

And yet she could do nothing about it. Except wait.

His guards collected her at dusk. She knew it was dusk because they took her out of the cell, out of the dungeon, and to her old rooms. A bath was run for her, two foreign maids (or perhaps not foreign anymore now that their two countries were joined) scrubbed her without mercy.

This felt crueler than actual torture. What was the game here? Did the Warlord want to lure her into false security before he ripped it from her again? Would she be shuttled from cell to room over and over again until she lost her sanity?

Once they bathed and dressed her in her old, simple linen gowns, the Queen was instructed to wait.

The Warlord joined her soon after. He looked at her with guarded suspicion, his eyes as impenetrable as the city walls. She looked away.

“My men have committed a full investigation,” he announced quietly, sitting across from her. “The guard you conspired with had not appeared in the castle before the day he left with you. You had received no communication, no visitors, and you had not left your rooms. If you conspired with this enemy, you were very sneaky about it.”

If. Not when. It gave her hope, and the hope terrified her more than anything else. She said nothing, afraid to ruin it.

“Of course, you know this palace better than any of my men. You are intelligent and quiet and cooperative enough to have earned their trust and mine. It’s not impossible for you to help plan a rebellion under my nose.”

“No, it is not impossible,” she admitted, daring another look at him. “But I did not do it.”

He looked at her for a long moment, with that unnervingly penetrating gaze. She struggled not to shy away from it.

“When you came to me that night for surrender, what was your worst fear?”

The question surprised her. She could not guess his angle, but answered honestly regardless. “That you would execute me on the spot and then murder my people in their homes come morning.”

“And yet you came anyway. You gave your city to me regardless. Why? If death was inevitable, why not fight until the bitter end? Or join your husband and avoid it all together?”

A small, desperate hope had driven her actions that night. A reckless hope that inspired an insane decision she would never have made under any other circumstances.

“When I first heard your terms for our surrender they sounded very generous to me,” she answered slowly. “They did not sound like the ideas of a man bent on our destruction. I had a hope that, despite what followed, you could still be that man.”

“A leap of faith,” he said softly. “You risked everything on the small hope that you could trust me.”

This time she tried to give him a penetrating look of her own. It felt like trying to find the bottom of a murky river. He was much more skilled at hiding his thoughts than she was with hers.

“Why are you asking me questions you already know the answers to?”

He took a measured pause before answering. “I am trying to remind myself of what I know you have done. Of what it took from you.”

“I do not regret it.”

“Even now?” His eyebrow quirked upwards.

“Even now.”

She meant those words deeply. The Warlord had done more for her city and her people in two months than her husband did in his entire reign. She did not fault him for his lack of trust in her because only a fool would blindly trust their former enemy and captive. But she had no idea how to make herself believable.

“No matter how short our acquaintance may be, you have given to me far more than you have taken,” she said. If he believed anything she said, please let it be this.

The wall of his gaze cracked just a little to reveal a hint of pain, of longing. “I don’t understand how you can say that.”

“You don’t know what my life was like before you,” she said simply.

Such a statement stunned him into silence. He looked at her as if she’s a battle ground he can’t figure out.

“Why did you bring me back here?” she asked, wondering if he would lie to her. “Is this some mind game you’re playing before you have me tortured?”

He looked at her in surprise. “How underhandedly cruel you must think me to come to that conclusion.”

He sounded almost offended.

“No other conclusion makes sense. You are convinced of my guilt, regardless of the truth. I should have been tortured for information by now, and slated for a morning hanging.”

“I should have done that,” he agreed, and something in her gut curdled at the sound of it. “If you were anyone else, I would have done that. But . . .you took a leap of faith for me. I feel I owe you the same.”

“A leap of faith?”

“I will take us back to our original arrangement — with extra precautions — as a show of trust. Just like the one you gave me when you surrendered. You will not return to your cell. You certainly will not be tortured. But know this: even a whiff of suspicion will be enough for me to gut you myself. I cannot have my reign threatened. Not even by you.”

The only thing that kept her knees from buckling in relief is the rigid disbelief that tightens her insides like a bow string. The risk of believing him could cost her much indeed, in both body and heart. And she was very tired.

“You don’t believe me,” he said with that knowing glint.

“It doesn’t sound very believable.”

He stepped towards her until he was close enough to take her hands in his. His long, rough fingers closed around her wrists.

“I’m still not completely convinced of your innocence. But your company is worth the risk of my trust. Whatever has happened . . I very much enjoy your presence.”

He squeezed her wrists, as if in reassurance, and she could not hide the wince of pain. And of course it did not escape his gaze.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she said quickly — too quickly by the way his eyes narrowed. “It’s just . . .a bruise.”

“A bruise? You were not in chains.”

He held up her arm and pulled the sleeve down to reach the delicate skin of her wrist, still mottled purple and yellow.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“How did you get this?” He asked softly, dangerously.

The Queen swallowed tightly. She feared how much this reminder would erode what little camaraderie they’d gained back. “A bruise,” she said. “ . . .from when they took me.”

His gaze roved up her arms to her collarbone, her face, scrutinizing every inch of her. It caught on the small, scabbed cut on her neck and all the breath in her lungs froze. On instinct she tried to cover it with her hand but he batted it away.

“What gave you this?”

“A knife.”

“A knife,” he repeated flatly. “Held at your throat.”

Anger fell over his features like a storm, crackled like lightning in his eyes. He looked more terrifying than she had ever seen him, even when he gutted his own guard. She braced herself for his sword or even his hands around her throat. Instead, he turned around and walked briskly to the window, hands in tight, shaking fists at his side.

The Queen’s heart and her hope disintegrated to ash in her chest. For the second time, tears fell in the Warlord’s presence. She could not stop them even if she wanted to.

Even a whiff of suspicion will be enough for me to gut you myself.

“Will you please just kill me,” she whispered, begging. “You will never trust me and I cannot live with  your fear hanging over my head like a sword, waiting for the moment it will finally fall. If any respect for me remains, you would —“

“Stop.” He did not need to shout for his voice to echo like thunder. She felt it in her chest.

The Queen clenched her jaw tightly closed, body trembling, crying as she had not done since she was a little girl. It humiliated her. She covered her face with her hands, biting her lip to muffle herself. How weak and pathetic he must think of her. How stupid she was to fall in love with someone who could only ever think of her as their enemy.

Suddenly his hands were upon hers, pulling them gently away from her face. She had not even heard his approach. The Queen did not dare look him in the eye.

“I am not angry at you,” he said softly.

He tipped her chin up and forced their eyes to meet. The anger in his gaze had melted into deep, derisive shame.

“I am angry at myself. You would not have those wounds unless you resisted your own capture. And if you gave them to yourself on purpose you would not have try to hide them from me.”

His thumb brushed over the pulse of her wrist, as delicate as a puff of air. “I have been a fool. I have treated you with cruelty and dishonor.” He snorted with derision. “I offered you my forgiveness, thinking myself so magnanimous, when I should be begging for yours on my knees. I would now, if I thought I was worthy of it. But what I have done to you is unforgivable.”

He released his gentle hold on her and stepped back. The raw emotion on his face slipped back behind a calm, diplomatic mask. “Where would you like to go? I will send you anywhere, and make sure you want for nothing, and you will never have to worry about the sword of my fear hanging over your head again.”

He could not have offered her a more undesirable outcome. She swallowed back tears, trying to compose herself.                                                                                               

“If I had a choice,” she said shakily, “then I would stay here. With you.”

He gave her a pained look. “You do not have to be afraid to leave. I know I have broken your trust, but I do promise with all the honor I have left that nothing would happen to you.”

“I’m not afraid to leave,” she told him. “I just don’t want to. This is my home. And . . .”

“And?” he prompted.

She hesitated at the thought of revealing her final secret. But the worst had already happened between them. What else did she have to lose?

“And I love you.”

The confession horrified him. He flinched.

“You are my prisoner,” he said. “Ten minutes ago you were begging me to kill you. I put you in a dungeon cell.”

“I have had a happier time as your prisoner than I ever did in my marriage,” she pointed out.

He winced. “I hate it when you say things like that. It makes me furious that I did not have the pleasure of murdering your husband with my bare hands.”

“My apologies,” she said without meaning it. “I harbor no expectations that you could return my feelings. I just . . .thought you should know —“

“Marry me.”

This threw her. “ . . . What?”

To her utter shock, the Warlord sank to his knees, looking up at her beseechingly.

“Marry me. . . .please.”

“Why?” she faltered. “Why would you want me? Wouldn’t you marry someone of your own court?”

“There is no one better suited than you and I would have no other. You are careful, intelligent, and kind. You know this city and its needs. You have helped me immensely thus far even in your limited capacity. And . . .I love you.”

Now this felt too good to believe. Never before had someone expressed love to her with such raw sincerity, such simplistic purity. She wanted so badly to believe it.

The Queen knelt in front of him, searching the beloved features of his face.

“Not an hour ago you thought I had conspired to overthrow you,” she said softly. “Now you want to marry me. I do not understand it.”

“You do not trust it,” he corrected, again seeing the heart of her.

“I want to.”

“An hour ago I was a fool and a coward,” he said, not shying away from her gaze despite the disgust in his own eyes. “I am unworthy of you, I fully admit it. But if you will stay with me, then you will be my equal. No more of this captivity. You have put your life in my hands and now I will gladly put my life in yours.”

He reached out and delicately traced the line of her jaw. “I am not a man who makes the same mistake twice,” he murmured. “But if you will not have me, the offer stands to care for you anywhere in the world.”

Though she understood it, his distrust of her cut her deeply. Part of her hesitated, afraid the rug of their relationship might be pulled out from under her yet again. But the Warlord had always kept his word, and she would rather have a life cut short with him than a long one without him.

“I will have you,” she said.

A smile of soft, pure joy bloomed across his face, the sight as stunning as the sunrise. He leaned forward, capturing her face in his hands, and pressed his forehead against hers. Breathing her air.

“We will make this world a place where we can be happy,” he promises.

And they did.

If anyone is curious, I was heavily inspired by Netflix's Rise of Empires: Ottoman season 1. I loved the actor who played Mehmed II and he was in my head as the warlord this whole time. It's a great series!

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