#then use a curved metal to press on it

[nyanspirals]

ive had shrink plastic for like 3 years now but i kinda never use it because i have to bake it when i do. im considering buying a heat gun when i have the money so i can make cooler stuff w it

[slvttyplum]

when suguru got his tongue piercing you really didn't think too much into it, you thought it was just another person he was getting and that was that, but it was until that cold silver metal was rubbing against your clit you started to care.

it was like the feeling of getting a vibrator for the first time, you just had to use it over and over again until you physically got tired of it, that's what you did when you rode his face every single day and night, you could not get enough.

it was such a good feeling, and it made shivers ring around your body all around, it felt too good, better than a vibrator, that's why he had to eat your pussy every time. suguru loved the fact that you were using his mouth, as much as he loved eating your pussy, this was like christmas for him.

instead of him waking you awake to eat your pussy or just grabbing you to sit on your face, it was you with those pretty puppy dog eyes telling him to eat you out, what did he do? just that, you did not have to ask him twice.

when his tongue swiped back and forth between your folds and would repeatedly push against your clit and flick up and down, your eyes would roll to the top of your head and your body twitching with pleasure, it was a new sensation that you wanted to experience over and over again.

suguru was already good at eating your pussy and having your toes curl along with squirting your brains out, but this piercing enhanced the feeling all the way. sometimes he couldn't even get through you riding his face because you would cum in two minutes, then be on the verge of finishing for the third time in the fifth minute.

he thought it was so cute though, whenever you would hold onto him during the day not saying anything hoping he would get the hint, and he couldn't even resist. suguru fucking loved eating you out, and if you were so horny for him to use his new tongue, then he was going to use it and make sure you were orgasmed out of your mind.

your favorite position was when he would push your thighs into your chest making you hold them and just eat the fuck out of your pussy, it felt so good it had you crying and whining, but did you ask him to stop? hell no, you took that shit like a champ.

your toes twitching and curling as the grip you had around your thighs were loosening as he continues to eat you out, he wasn't going to stop even if you were begging and your face was swelling from the tears, he was going to keep going until his tongue fell off.

his spit and your fluids dripping off his tongue as he looks up at you moaning, it was a view he never got tired of seeing, he loved seeing it, loved seeing the pleasure drip down your core. suguru could never imagine seeing someone else do the faces you do when his tongue is deep inside of you.

don't let this man put his fingers inside of you while he's slowly rubbing his tongue over your clit, the small ball of metal pressing gently against your clit every 2 seconds while his fingers pushed and curved up to your sweet spot.

it was like edging but instead of the pleasure stopping for a few seconds, the pleasure just kept going but in a different way, your body begging for his tongue to go back to your clit every time he rolls it down.

this is why he was your favorite eater, he knew what the fuck he was doing.

[your-internet-bf]

We hadn't always gotten along. When our parents got married, we could barely stand each other. How could we get along with some brat we barely knew? Luckily, I had an idea. I bought a clicker - you know, the one they use to train dogs? - and got to work.

I started with "thank you". Every time you said it, maybe at dinner, in the car, at a restaurant, I pressed the clicker. You couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, and nobody else seemed to know what you were talking about. But soon, I started helping you with chores around the house and when we finished, *click*. And without really thinking about it, you'd say "thank you."

A few months passed, and you'd started to notice things about me. I took care of myself. I was clean, and I exercised regularly. You'd hang around when you knew I'd be back from the gym just to catch a whiff of the sweat and metal on me when I returned - our eyes caught once when you got a little too close, and for the first time you saw something primal, a little dark, in my gaze. But it passed in an instant.

We started getting along better, now. So one day, when you were lying on the couch with a snack bowl, I snatched it up and motioned to throw it into your mouth. Well, innocent enough, right? And it wasn't like I was eating much, so it's fine, right? Every time you open your mouth to catch, *click*, *click*, *click*.

Then, I invited you to come work out with me. Every time you did a squat, *click*. I told you it was a metronome to keep your intensity up, but you noticed the bulge in my sweatpants was bigger than usual. Wait, when did you start noticing my bulge, especially enough to know that...?

Finally, it was time. I'd been listening outside your bedroom door for weeks now, and I knew when you'd be asleep. I quietly opened your door and stepped into your room, locking it behind me. You stirred at the sound of the lock clicking, but I wasn't afraid.

I gingerly pulled down the covers and just... stared for a while. I'd never taken the time to really look at how beautiful you are, how gorgeous those curves were. I could hardly stand it. As you lay on your side, I took out the clicker, and *click* it once. Laying on your side, like you were on the couch with the snacks, you obediently open your mouth.

I pull down my pants, my long, thick cock swinging between my thighs. I brush the back of my hand over your cheek, then set it firmly against the back of your head, and push into your mouth.

You wake up almost immediately, but my hand stops you from pulling back as I force inch after throbbing inch down your throat. The more you struggle, the tighter you feel, the harder I push, until you felt your nose press into my hips. You push as hard as you can against me, but I'm so much bigger and stronger than you it doesn't do anything. I don't even budge.

I start to grind into your skull, making you swallow the thick, heavy head of my cock again and again, as I groan in pleasure. I start thrusting harder and harder, making your eyes water as I slam my hips into your face again and again, until finally, mercifully, I release inside you, deep inside your throat. You feel me pulse with your whole mouth, and you struggle to swallow each load of thick, hot, sticky cum while I'm still inside you.

With a shuddering breath, I pull out, letting you breathe properly for the first time in minutes. I watch while you cough and catch your breath, and then I ask, "what do you say?"

You breathe in intending to scream, but then you hear it, just one soft *click*, and all you can say is "thank you".

You stare at me, confused. I wipe my cum off your chin with my thumb, and *click* again. "Thank you", you say.

"I knew it. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Now," I push you onto your back, "spread for me."

*click*

You raise your legs to either side, exactly like you're doing a squat.

"I don't - I don't understand," you whimper, legs still in the air.

"You don't have to," I reply, reaching one hand between your legs to feel how wet you are.

"You're soaking, little girl," as I bring my hand up for you to see... Then make you taste it. I reach back down and slip in two of my thick, strong fingers, and cover your mouth with my other hand as you moan. I press up in just the right spot, rubbing in tight, quick circles so deliciously that you can't help but arch your back and grind into me. You feel the pleasure build and all thought leaves your mind; the only thing that matters is my fingers inside you, the scent of my hand over your mouth, and the lingering taste of me.

But before you can finish I pull my fingers out, pressing up and out, leaving you twitching and gasping. "Not yet," I mutter, and I move myself down between your legs. I line up my cock, slapping it down on your tummy first. It reaches your navel, and you feel a wave of fear that only makes you wetter. I pull back, then start pushing in.

It's thick, thick, thick, and heavy. I stretch you out wider than you thought possible, pressuring you in every direction, spreading your aching cunt and making you feel full inside for the first time in your life. Long, deep strokes, moving your whole body with every thrust, reaching inside you, my breath coming fast and hard.

And you hear it again.

*click*

"Thank you," you choke out between sobs.

*click*

"Thank you," you moan.

*click*

"Thank you," you plead, tears in your eyes.

My strokes come faster now, slamming inside you like an animal as you continue to thank me for raping you. Finally, finally, finally, you feel me tense up and slam deep, deep, deep inside you, pressing your whole body into the bed, as I cum again. Huge, hot, sticky white loads of my cum shoot inside you, filling you, as my breath comes in gasps, and as I do you feel it too, now, the wave of pleasure cresting, and you cum, your legs squeezing together, your face screwed tight, moaning with the release of months of tension. And as you cum, you hear a new sound, a familiar sound, but it's deeper than the others...

*click*

And you cum harder, knowing I'm training you like a bitch in heat.

I climb up next to you, and just gaze into your eyes for a moment. Then I smile. "Let's go again."

*click*

[uluvjay]

Just the two of us-L. Norris

Lando Norris x fem! Reader

Lando just won his second Grand Prix and all he has in his mind is getting you back to the hotel..

Warnings,: SMUT, P in v, Unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!), fingering( F receiving), Cursing, teasing, edging, pretty much porn with a plot!! Prob some errors, I hope you enjoy!

You bounced on your feet next to Adam as you waited for Lando to move towards you two. The metal of the barricade pressing into your stomach as you leaned against it, watching as Lando emerged from his car.

He ran to his team first, hugging everyone that made the win possible before he made it to you and Adam.

He hugged his father close, patting his cheek as they pulled away and moved over to you. Your hands wrapped around his neck as his went around your waist.

“Congrats baby!!” You cheered, not even sure if he could hear you but the slight pat his gloved gave to your bum assured you that he caught some part of your words.

You kissed his helmet as he pulled back, catching your eyes he sent you a small wink as he turned around and began to remove his gear.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes were glued to him as he took his balaclava off, shaking his curls and running a hand through his hair.

The mullet had been doing things for you and you couldn’t wait to get him back to the hotel and into your bed.

You watched the Podium celebration before heading to his drivers room to wait for him, sitting on the small couch scrolling through Twitter liking all the supportive tweets from devoted fans.

Hearing the creek of the door your head shot up, an eyebrow inching up at the sight of your shirtless boyfriend. Trophy and shirt in one hand, while his phone rested in the other.

“Where’d your shirt go?” You laughed, moving to stand on your feet and head towards him.

“Got hot.” He shrugged, his cheeky grin pulling on his lips he sat everything down and pulled you against him.

He tucked his head into your neck, a relaxing sigh of relief coming from him as he finally got a second to be with just you.

“How are you feeling?” You asked softly, knowing he’d had himself worried about not performing well after the summer break.

“Okay, I’m glad I was able to get that win but now I’m exhausted. Can’t wait to get into bed and sleep.” He chuckled lightly.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his eyes locked on yours as he smiled gently.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can head back?”

“Sounds good to me.” You smiled back, leaning in for what you intended to be a sweet kiss but he made quick work of moving his hand from your waist to the back of your head and pushing his lips harder against yours.

You finally pulled back at the feeling of him trying to push his tongue into your mouth, a giggle escaping you at his whine.

“Go shower big guy, that king sized bed and room service are calling my name.” You patted his chest and stepped back.

“Fineeee.” He groaned playfully, grabbing his change of clothes and heading for the small shower.

-

Opening the door to the hotel room Lando held it for you as you followed in behind him, watching as you beelined straight for the bed and plopped yourself on top.

He did his best to ignore the way the skirt of your dress flipped up showing the curve of your bum and lacy panties.

As much as he wanted nothing more than to roll your dress up and take you right then and there he could hear sleep calling his name.

He coughed as he walked past setting his things down and exchanging his jeans and T shirt for a pair of sweatpants.

“Are you changing darling?” He asked.

“Yeah, can I borrow a shirt?” You asked innocently, now sitting up to face him.

“By borrowing you mean stealing it and me never seeing it again?” He laughed as he picked you one from his suitcase.

“You’ll see it again..it’ll just be In my drawers rather than yours.” You smirked.

Lando handed you the quadrant shirt, watching as you stood on your feet and slipped off the sandals you’d picked for the day before pulling the sun dress over your head, bra quickly following as they both hit the floor.

He gulped at the way your breasts hardened from the cold breeze in the room, goosebumps covering your skin before you quickly pulled the dark shirt over your head.

“You okay?” You smirked when you caught his stare.

“Mhm, yeah.” He coughed turning away from you as he adjusted his pants to hide the now very prominent boner.

You shook your head at his antics, picking up your clothes from the floor and moving to put them in your own suitcase.

“What do you wanna get to eat?” You questioned after finding a comfortable spot on the bed, Lando climbing in right next to you with the tv remote in hand.

“You can order whatever, I’ll eat anything right now.” He laughed.

You could tell he was trying to act normal despite his tense shoulders, his eyes constantly dropping to your bare thighs that were just inches from his.

You nodded in reply, reaching across the bed for the room phone making sure the shirt you sported rose up more than usual letting him get a glimpse of your panties.

You heard the small groan he let out, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you played your games with him.

You returned to your spot next to him after ordering you both some pasta, wine, and dessert.

Lando was now laying against the headboard, his lower abdomen under the heavy duvet, you slid under it as well cuddling into his side as his arm moved to wrap around your shoulder.

“How long did they say?” He asked.

“About 45 minutes.” You replied softly.

He nodded in return his eyes glued to the show he’d picked, you decided to behave for a little allowing the both of you some time to fully relax before you started up again.

You could sense he was tired and needed some time to relax but as you counted down the minutes till the food was set to arrive you couldn’t help yourself as your hand moved from his lap to his stomach.

Truthfully he didn’t even notice your moves at first, not thinking much about your hand moving against his skin. That was until he felt your cold fingers beginning to trace the waistband of his pants.

A sharp gasp echoing from him when he felt your hand finally slip under the elastic of both his pants and boxers, his hand that rested behind you gripping the material of your shirt as pleasure begin to flow through him.

“Fuck.” He whimpered as you pumped him slowly, thumb moving around the swollen head of his cock.

His chest began to heave as he felt his orgasm getting closer and closer with every stroke of your soft hand he felt the world slipping away.

You watched as his head tipped back, soft curls tickling his forehead as beads of sweat began to gather at his hair line.

His sounds picked up, soft whimpers becoming moans as he was on the brink of his orgasm. It wouldn’t take much more to get him to cum and you knew it, flexing your wrist a bit more you had him ready until a knock on the door had you stopping your movements.

“Room service!” A woman called from outside.

“Foods here!” You smirked evilly, withdrawing your hand from his pants Lando let out a pained whimper at the loss of contact.

He stayed glued in his position watching you open the door and grab the cart from the Lady, thanking her politely before pulling it into the room and shutting the door.

He watched as you moved around as if he wasn’t even there, as if you didn’t just have him moaning and gasping on the brink of an orgasm with your hands shoved in his pants.

“Baby?!” He called catching your attention.

“Huh?”

“What the hell was that?” He exclaimed, voice shaky despite his attempted sternness.

“What was what?” You asked dumbly, eyes showing nothing but fake innocence.

He stood up at that, marching to where you stood he’d had enough. He allowed you to play your little game long enough, he was tired when you two got back not really feeling like sex was in the cards but now you had him wide awake and ready.

Reaching you he didn’t hesitate wrapping a strong hand around the base of your throat, the twinkle he saw in your eyes and the way you did your best to hide your smirk had him realizing this was exactly what you wanted.

“I’m not playing this damn game anymore Y/n.” He spat, “get your ass on the bed.”

“What about the foo-“ I don’t give a fuck about the food, on the bed.”

His shoulders relaxed when you quickly obeyed and took off towards the bed, with a sway to your hips and slight pep in your step he knew you were ready.

Stripping from his pants and boxers he made sure you were watching his movements, he made his way back to his side of the bed resuming his earlier position.

“Come here.” He called and you did as he asked.

Moving to his lap you cried out when he pushed your panties to the side, thick fingers running through your folds.

“Look at that, you’re absolutely soaked.” He scoffed, fingers continuing their slow and steady movements.

“That little game of yours get you like this baby? Getting me to the edge and stopping?”

You nodded pathetically at his words, the pleasure of his hands beginning to cloud your brain, hand reaching for his shoulder to steady yourself as your knees got shaky.

“Getting close love?” He smirked up at you, watching the way your chest heaved just like his had, how your hands were balled up just like his, your sounds getting louder by the second.

“Yes! Fuck yes.” You panted, hazy eyes locking with his.

You could feel it, it was right there all it would take was a few more strokes of his talented fingers but right as you felt yourself at the cusp everything went away.

“No, no, no, Lando please.” You begged trying to grab his hand but his reflexes were too quick for you.

He laughed, he actually laughed at you. His chest moving slightly as he put on a faux pout for you, his bottom lip sticking out as he cupped your cheek.

“Sucks doesn’t it baby?” He asked, his eyes now holding the evil look.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have teased you. Will you please make me cum?” You pleaded with the Brit, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“Hmm I don’t know..don’t know if you deserve it.” He spoke, voice dripping with a seductive venom.

“Please baby, I’ll be good I promise. Just want to cum and to make you cum.” You tried, scooting closer to him.

His large hands found a home on your hips gripping them tight, he pulled you down a bit to rub your dripping center over the tip of his angry cock.

Twin gasps escaping both of you at the bone chilling feeling, your nails digging into his skin as his dug into the material of his shirt you still wore.

He guided you until his cock was resting right against your hole, eyes locked on your face as you slid down on him.

Lando swore there was no better sight then the way your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, the air getting knocked from your lungs as you took him all the way, stopping once you reached the base of his cock for a second to adjust to his length and thickness.

“Fuck.” He breathed, hands dropping to cup your plump ass cheeks.

He moved you back and forth slowly, a hot cry leaving you as the mixed pleasure of him hitting so deep and your clip rubbing against his pelvis.

His own head dropped back at the pleasure, feet planting themselves on the bed as he began to thrust up into you.

Your body falling against his completely as you cried out wordless moans, the lingering tension from your missed orgasm adding onto the already powerful pleasure.

Lando could feel his own body quivering at the pleasure, his abs tightening with each thrust, doing his best to hold himself off until you came for him.

“Doing so fucking good baby.” He groaned out, pulling your face out of his neck he locked your lips in a hot kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip dragging another moan from you.

“Shit Lando.” You cried, arms wrapping around his neck as you held eye contact, beginning to rock your hips to match his thrusts.

Hearing your breath hitch with every thrust mixed with the way your cunt hugged his cock he could tell you were close, his lips moving to kiss the spot below your ear.

“I want you to come for me now, can you do that baby?” He cooed in your ear, basking in the whine that left your lips at his words.

“Uh huh” you babbled to him, hips moving faster as you chased your high.

“Good girl.”

Those two words were all it took to finally push you over the edge, your mouth dropping into a silent scream as your body shook against his.

He fucked you through your high, his sharp and steady thrusts never stopping even as your moans of overstimulation picked up.

“Lando! Fuck, I can’t take anymore.” You cried, hands tangling into his curls.

“I’m almost there love, just need you to be a good girl for me.” He panted, his hips begging to stutter as he felt his climax strongly approaching.

“Come for me champ, fill me up.” You spoke in his ear just like he had for you.

He groaned at your words, his grip on you tight as he thrusted a few more times before finally coming to a halt with a deep groan.

His spent body dropped back against the headboard as you laid on his chest, his hand coming to stroke your hair as you both came down from your highs.

After a few moments of silence he finally spoke up, “Well that was some celebration sex for sure.”

You both laughed as you slapped his chest lightly, “shut up.”

It was silent for a little while longer until he tapped your bum twice, “We gotta get you cleaned up.”

You groaned at his words not sure if you were even capable of moving let alone standing on your legs right now.

“I know, I know but we need to eat some food too.” He cooed and you couldn’t argue with that as the scent of the pasta across the room hit your nose.

Shifting to straddle him again you whimpered at the overstimulation, taking a deep breath before you pulled off of him.

A groan falling from Lando as he watched a mixture of your releases land on his softening cock, he placed a sharp swat to your ass when he saw a smirk itching to tug at your lips.

“Keep it up and I’ll fuck yoy even harder in the shower.”

“Promise?”

-

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn��t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault. 

“Get out!” he yells. 

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap. 

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter. 

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps. 

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear. 

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours. 

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.” 

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is. 

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value. 

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.  

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end. 

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you. 

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare. 

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister? 

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone. 

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun. 

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother. 

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses. 

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps. 

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting. 

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist. 

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches. 

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough. 

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours. 

“You're not hurt?” he asks. 

“I'm fine,” you promise him. 

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours. 

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames. 

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing. 

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours. 

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.” 

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach. 

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining doing some vent maintenence on base and getting stuck because your hips (+ utility belt) are wider than you thought.

And of course Soap is the one who finds you struggling to get free. He tries to be a gentleman and tug you out from the sides but he can't get enough leverage. So, he has no choice but to come up from behind, make you lock your legs around his hips, and put his whole back into freeing you up.

Meanwhile, Price's office is next door. He can hear your banging and struggling echoing through the vents. Out of concern he pops his head into the room to see what all the ruckus is about.

The first thought on his mind is that he really hopes whatever he's witnessing is consensual. The second thought on his mind is:

"What in the bloody 'ell are you two doing?"

Soap's is already pink with extertion, but redness creeps up the back of his neck. He glances down at your precariously inappropriate position and releases your legs from his grip.

"M' jus' trying to help." He offers.

Price huffs and walks over. He calls out to you, fingers prdding at your panting midsection. Yeah, you're stuck alright. You're definitely going to need more help getting free than from just Soap.

"C'mere." Price commands, using his fingers to gesture at his sergeant. "You grab one leg like this. Good, now, on the count of three."

You have no idea what's going on other than the fact there are two grown men with full body grips on both of your legs. Their faces are just over the curve of your ass as you can feel Soap's panting breaths through your trousers. You're so distracted you don't even hear the start of Price's countdown.

"Three."

"Guys wai-"

Instanly, you feel your hip joints pop from the pressure of the two men. The tools in your belt scratch angrily against the metal vent as you're pulled free. Unfortunately, they really did put their full strength into saving you, and so you slip away from the vent and belly flop onto the floor.

You sit up on your knees as you catch your breath. Soap and Price let go of your legs and stand up to their full heights. They press hands against your back and shoulders to stabilize you. Without thinking, you grab the first things for support you can.

Both men are stunned into silence as you sit there, out of it, and panting between their legs with your hands digging into their trouser clad thighs.

There's a cough from the doorway. It's Gaz.

"Am I...interrupting something?"

[eupheme]

— into the fire

[series masterlist]

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 1.6k

Tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, rough oral (m rec.), 2 seconds of boot riding, flashbacks, sorta implied mutual pining, threatening with a gun, light degredation, spitting

a/n: please mind the tags! 💕 I heard him say ‘sweetheart’ (derogatory) and I was a goner. (Cooper is referred to as The Ghoul because I felt like he sure as hell wouldn’t have given Reader his name yet.)

“Been a long time since I’ve had mouth as sweet as yours.”

His tone then grows sharp, as the metal digs into your skin, “Don’t make me regret it.”

(Or - when you’re captured for a bounty, you make a deal.)

Your knees sink dig into the ground, with the downward gesture of his finger.

Eyes tracking the hand that now wraps around his belt buckle, then up to the tongue that traps between parted teeth.

No more than a week ago, he had lasso’d a rope around your throat. Bringing you to the ground - his weight of his hips pinning you solidly against the earth.

“There’s a bounty out for a Vaultie like you.,” The Ghoul had growled, as you bucked uselessly against him. “You know that?”

The days since were spent leashed by his side - almost like a pet, with the way he kept a handle on the rope twined tightly around your wrists.

Making you walk ahead, a sharp tug that sent you stumbling if you wandered too far.

All the while, you still felt that gaze that slipped over you.

Dipping with the zipper that had dragged down, pinched between fumbling fingers. Just wanting to feel the breeze against your skin - luxury you never had in the Vault. It lingered where the sweat beaded, nestled down in the shadow between your breasts.

If he needed permission to want you, you’d give it to him.

“You can use me,” You had told him - desperate, one night. “Whatever you want. Please, I can’t go back.”

“You best think twice about what you’re offerin’, sweetheart.” The Ghoul has rasped. A tilt of his head, as his eyes dragged over you.

You let them, your own eyes wandering as well. Across gaunt eyes and roughened skin, trying to piece together the man beneath.

Picking up on tiny things in the days that followed. Clinking spurs, his accent - akin to old programs they used to show back at your Vault. Hints that he’s been around a long, long time.

The Ghoul was terrifying in a way that thrilled you. You’d never seen someone move like he did, drawing faster than you could blink. A nightmare shrouded in a tattered leather coat, moving like a ghost.

He could rip your throat out with his bare teeth.

But he hadn’t.

You hadn’t had much to bargain with but you begin think even if you had caps - you might have ended up right here anyways.

But he hadn’t made a move to touch you.

Not until today, when your packaged water had run dry.

Until he saw the way you eyed him, envious. Another ten miles of desert road ahead, the sun following you from above and your throat growing drier with each one.

“You want some?” He asked, letting you watch the bead of water that rolled down his chin. “Then I think you know what you need to do, sweetheart.”

He’s collecting on your offer, now.

Adjusting himself, under the shadow of a crumbling building. Your thighs parting as you find your balance, fists pressing into uneven ground. The rope tied around fixed firmly under the heel of his boot, leaving you unable to use them in a manner you’d like. 

The Ghoul’s hat shields his eyes, but he can’t hide the curve of his cock against his pants - the interested twitch, when he frees himself.

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” He clicks his tongue, fingers wrapped around the base, “This was your idea, after all.”

There’s a warmth pooling in your belly, as you shuffle closer. The part of your lips, the peek of your tongue against the tip.

It’s much like the rest of him. Pulled-tight pink skin, roughened and wrinkled divots. Velvety and warm, as you take him into your mouth and suck.

He swells, as your lips wrap around him. As he inches deeper, with the shallow bob of your head. Heavy against your tongue, it’s not long at all before he’s fully hard.

You try to take more, struggling with your limited balance, the full size of him. Teeth scraping against skin, when his hand twists in your hair.

There’s a ragged groan rattling in his throat - then there’s the cool press of a muzzle against your cheek, the low growling drawl of his voice.

“Been a long time since I’ve had mouth as sweet as yours.”

His tone then grows sharp, as the metal digs into your skin, “Don’t make me regret it.”

Your heartbeat thuds beneath your ribs. His message clear - fuck around, use your teeth on him, and you won’t live long enough to find out.

You don’t test him. His grip lingers, until you go loose. Eyes lifting to meet his, letting him guide you.

The tightness in him unknots as well, when you let him into your throat. A low grunt, risking a glance down to see how well you take him - an unconscious buck of his hips into your waiting mouth.

“Not even two weeks out and you’re already sucking cock,” He grits out, “So fucking eager to do it, too. You like ghouls sweetheart? Or just me?”

His voice rips into you, sending your nerves alight. He leaks against your tongue as you trace the rough skin, unable to help groaning.

“Fuck,” The Ghoul growls, “Just mine. Let me hear you say it.”

His grip loosens, pulling himself from you. Spit clinging from the head of his cock to your lips as you swallow. A hand pinching at your chin, forcing your face to stay tipped up to his as you answer.

“Just yours.”

“Good,” He thumbs at your chin until you open again, tongue waiting against your lip. Filling you slowly this time, until he’s nudging against the back of your throat. Tears prick at your eyes, as you try not to gag around him.

The slow saw of his hips picks up. It’s difficult without your hands - messy, with the way he uses you. Though there’s something about it that itches at you, deep inside.

Something that makes the tight Vault Suit feel even more constricting. More than aware of the dampness that pools between your thighs. How the sound of his groans, the tight tug of your hair in his fist makes you clench.

It’s has your thighs pressing together, as he fucks your mouth. A shift of your wrists so you can press the back of your hand against your center - easing some of the ache.

The pull of the rope beneath his boot has his eyes flicking further downwards. A cruel smile, when he sees.

“Getting off on this, sweetheart?”

You whine, and the smile widens.

“Filthy thing, aren’t you?” He drawls, with the shift of his thighs. The other boot knocks against your wrists to move them, before fitting it between your thighs. Nudging against your center, giving you something to grind against.

It’s not enough, but you both knew it wouldn’t be.

It would be too kind, otherwise. And he’s shown that he’s sure as hell not nice.

A tear tracks down your cheek with the steady roll of his hips, your nose brushing hot skin with each thrust.

Your eyes shut - mindless, a soft buzz in your throat as you moan around him. Focused on his breath, how it grows short and panting and ragged.

Until he’s pulling himself from you with a grunt, his fist wrapping around his length.

“Unzip, darlin’.” He growls, as he works himself, “As much as I’d love to fully use that pretty mouth of yours, I ain’t about to share my RadAway.”

It takes you a second to catch the zipper on your Vault Suit, dragging it down. From your sternum to your abdomen - revealing the worn, white cotton of your bra, the inches of smooth skin beneath.

A hand frees from his grip in your hair. Touching you again, yanking at your suit and bra until it bares the tight peaks of your nipples.

“Goddamn,” He growls, “Just look at you. Bet you’re nice and messy beneath that suit.”

Fingers cup the weight, before he’s pinching down. Eliciting a soft moan, as his eyes sweep across your face - soft and half-lidded as you watch him.

“Should’ve just fucked you. Would’ve taken me so well, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” You breathe - imagining it. Bent over one of the broken tables inside. His cock buried in your cunt instead of your mouth.

The moan he makes sounds feral - bitten back between clenched teeth. His other hand sliding to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you in place as his fist tightens.

“Look at me,” The Ghoul commands, and you do. Meeting his gaze with pupils that are blown wide, watching how pretty and ruined you look as he comes.

His groan is long and low as he spills across your cheek. The next against your lips, then chin. The jerk of his fist working himself empty across your breasts, until you’re marked thoroughly with him.

Smeared sticky against your skin, leaving you empty and aching as he admires his work. A whine when The Ghoul tucks himself away, his hat tipped down low again.

“Oh,” He mocks, “You think I forgot?”

For the briefest moment, you think he means to touch you. To ease your need - or offer something to clean yourself with - but instead he’s pulling the canteen from his bag.

“Open.” He commands, before he’s taking the last remaining pull.

The protest is caught, as his hand grips your cheeks. As your lips part, like he told you to.

His jaw rolls, pooling the water against his tongue. And with the dip of his head - he spits.

This time, you swallow.

Nothing more was said, after. A cut-up scrap of cloth from his pack, tossed at you. He still clings to your skin, beneath the suit.

But as you start traveling again - as a crop of building rise up along the horizon in the north, that you realize -

You’re pretty certain the path has changed.

ahh I just finished Fallout! What did you all think?? I loved it, and I can’t see what they do with Cooper’s arc in s2 (and of course everyone’s, I loved Lucy as well!) (And would love to know what you thought about this, as well! I have thoughts on a follow-up if there’s interest!) 💖

[porcalinecunt]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ‘𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏!

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wondered what boothill has that lasso for . . ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. mean dom!boothill. crossdressing. bondage. fingering. (reluctant) praising. dumbification. squirting.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : boothill brainrot has me going hogwild for him hmmphmmammm. my last post abt him has been popping off lately, i hear your cries boothill nation and i'm here to serve! enjoy ~♡

“quit whinin’ boy, will ya?” 

he rasped, swallowing another bullet. the taste of lead spread in his mouth, crunching noises from the ground up ammo made you flinch a bit. 

your wispy gown was bunched up to your thighs, held in place with the rope he uses as a lasso outside of the bedroom. every curve was shown in it’s full glory, soft flesh suffocated from the harsh material. you sat on your knees with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, rendering you helpless as you couldn’t even close your legs. you could only watch helplessly as the ranger pumped his metal fingers in and out of your soaked cunny. his cold palm pressed up against your clit, overwhelming you with an electrifying friction no other man could give you. 

“mm..b-boothi–” 

smack!

you flinched as your thighs instinctively tried to press themselves shut, much to the amusement of your robotic boyfriend. a shit eating grin spread across his lips, flashing his shark-like teeth. 

“what did i say baby..? too cute to understand now?” 

the bullet between his teeth moved up and down, his speech slightly glitched at the very term ‘cute’. if only he could spit out what he really ment, but then again, his sarcastic tone dripping with faux sympathy spoke volumes. boothill was a sweetheart at his metal core, but if you asked so nicely, he might flick his own switch just to see you fall apart at his touch. you were too adorable to turn down. 

you shook your head, syrupy eyes stared back into his bloodshot ones. a silent beg for release, added on by your impatient grinding. two teasing fingers were no longer enough for you, no, you needed him to do his absolute worst. fucking you while bound like the good little minx you were for the hunk of steel. to hear his annoyed tone forced to say sweet nothing while his body said otherwise. maybe, he might get the gun involved. none of it mattered. 

through mindless babbles and high pitched whines, you pleaded for more. the ranger’s eyes flicked up towards your fucked out face as he swallowed the last bullet. you were pulled forwards by the rope, forced to face boothill’s mean grin. 

“use your words doll.” 

you tried, you really did, but whatever you wanted couldn’t come out right. almost like you short circuited, spitting out all of your desires. from him fingerblasting you ‘till you soaked his whole forearm to being stuffed to the brim by his synthetic cock, his ridiculous girth stretching your cunny till you cry. as you begged, his fingers quicked until the noises were too loud to even hear him praise you in your ear. you cracked your eyes open and almost orgasmed at what was being done to you. three fingers pumping themselves in and out of you, with boothill using the strength from his forearm to dig himself deeper until he touched your cervix. your thighs shook violently, shifting the rope to reveal the marks it’s already left on your soft flesh. you were close, and he could tell so easily. the way you clenched around his fingers to how quickly your moans subsided into lewd silence was made so stupidly obvious. 

“nasty one aren’t ya? y’gonna cum already?” 

he chuckled, nipping your earlobe as the final knots in your stomach finally snapped. tugging onto his leather vest, you came and came hard. your vision blurred and your legs went numb while you sobbed out in both shock and pleasure. boothill drank up the view in front of him, his pretty baby fucked out and dumber then a lost trotter. your once flawless sundress now ruined at the bottom with the top slipping off of your shoulders. of course, the rope that’s definitely gonna leave some lasting marks, which is exactly what he wanted. 

after all, you’ll come running back with it in hand the moment they fade. ♡

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[soupywoof]

[maintenance] - a gabv1el oneshot

i sit here exposed, pieces of my body never meant to be seen lie out in open air. someone else’s blood, dried, not unlike the rust on my metal, at one point escaped through loose piping, tangled wires, damaged circuitry. you see the signs of my obsolescence.

you stare into my chassis, your face unchanged.

i can feel you, your eyes, your focus, tracing over my internals. your gentle hands disappear inside me for your fingers to follow suit, and they return cradling damaged parts, long forgotten, weathered by use and time as they gathered dust, oil, blood – the likes of which untouched by self-repair.

and, whether by your careful touch or my layered wear, your work goes unnoticed, and yet it doesn’t. i feel you, though i don’t, not as i understand it, not as i have ever felt. the presence of your hand – each muscle and tendon, contracting, extending, manipulating wrist, fingers, joints, yours - its softness, its care. your presence inside of me, i feel it ever deepen, incomprehensibly so. and thus i feel you work. softly, you tear me into pieces.

but i don’t understand the attention you give to each piece of my decommissioned body. you run each wire gently between your fingertips and with care you repair me, reconnect me anew, clip each rusted, rotting part from my chassis and replace it, pristine. you untangle my twisted internals and in return they twist around you, your delicate touch, intricately working, now interwoven, pulled into me. you hold each piece of me as though it could shatter. you treat me so softly. i am a machine designed and created for war: sturdy, persistent, self-sustaining.

and yet, here you kneel, holding my heart with careful hands, gently, dearly, nursing me to life.

and yet, as your hands leave my hollow core each time, i ache.

you wipe away old grease between the seams of my plating, and i can feel you get carried away, slowly, softly, tracing the lines of my body. every angle, every corner, every curve. every part of me. my rust. my breaks. it feels as though not an inch goes untouched, untended. why do you take care of me so?

divine, yet you use your light on me. not even mortal, an afterthought, created by the free will that damned them, of steel, of sin. and still, despite such objectionable existence, here you kneel. why?

why do you care and why do i let you?

why do i sit here, my heart exposed, letting you see into me, each detail of my making, of my being, the routing of each cable into each socket, the pipes fueling my hydraulics, my inner-workings, and why do i let you rearrange me, poke around my delicate circuitry, why do i let you in? i wasn’t made for this. i wasn’t made for you. i don’t know if i care.

as you gently press the last piece of me into place, it clicks, and through the quiet air i can hear you breathe. your scarred chest rises, falls, and rises once more as you stare expectantly into my core. i feel your hand linger inside. you feel different, vivid. like your heart is my own i feel it beat, blood racing through your body. and i twitch. my fans whirr at nothing, my pumps spur to life, and i feel warm. warmer than ever before, with your hand in my chest, against me, inside me, a part of me.

i look down at you, the glow of my visor lights up your face, the low thrum of my body fills the silence.

you look up at me, at me.

i don’t want you to let go. i grab your wrist with both hands, holding it in place against my beating, ticking heart, and this newfound warmth continues to grow. what did you do to me?

please don’t let go.

you avert your gaze and i pain, my grip tightening on you. my whole body tightening in on itself. but you don’t let go. your hand remains still against my body, my chest, my heart, heating, heating up with every moment you stay.

you look back into me, your finished work, your palm against, and mine.

time pauses.

i don’t know what you think.

but in the stillness i feel your grace, your presence, gently against my metal, held onto your flesh. you place your empty hand on mine.

you don’t look back up into my visor, but i feel your warmth course through me and my body relax, my fear subside.

we sit there, in emptiness, accompanied only by the quiet, constant sounds of our bodies.

incredible accompanying animatic made by the amazing oshasno linked here: WATCH IT PLEASE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[INSPIRED LOTS BY THIS AS THEY WORKED ON IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!]

[sophrosynesworld]

Summer Softness

Katsuki’s always had that fierce, protective streak—everyone knows it. But what happens when the paparazzi go too far?

The gala is… unexpectedly pleasant. The air inside is filled with low, refined chatter, the clink of glasses, and the soft melodies of classical music drifting through the space. For a while, it’s easy to forget about the pressures outside.

Katsuki seems more relaxed than usual, in his own way. He’s never fully off duty—there’s always an edge to him—but tonight, he’s actually engaged in the conversation, smiling down at me as we move from one painting to the next. His crimson eyes scan the pieces before he offers a comment about the colors or techniques, terms he’s learned from watching me paint in our living room.

"I’ll be right back," Katsuki murmurs, his soft lips brushing against my ear as his hand rests gently on my waist. I hum in acknowledgment, leaning into his chest and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. As he steps away, I wander toward another sculpture, drawn in by the intricate twists of her hair, each curve and detail mesmerizing.

I glance down at the plaque beneath it.

Antonio Mardie, Summer Softness.

I step closer to the sculpture, tracing the air just above her delicate features, careful not to touch. The marble feels alive under the gallery’s soft lighting, shadows dancing over her form as if she might move at any moment.

"Beautiful, isn’t she?" A quiet voice pulls me from my thoughts. An older man, dressed in a dark coat, stands beside me, his eyes fixed on the sculpture. His expression is curious, like someone who’s seen countless works of art and yet still finds wonder in them.

I nod, glancing at him. “Yeah… I think she’s waiting for someone.”

He smiles faintly, a knowing look in his eyes. “Antonio Mardie was known for capturing fleeting moments—the softness of summer love, the quiet before a storm. It’s said this piece was inspired by a lost love, the woman he could never quite forget.”

I would go crazy without him too.

“It’s amazing,” I say softly. “Did he ever show it to her?”

“No.” The man’s voice is soft, eyes fixed on the sculpture as though lost in his own memories. “She died before it was finished… cancer.” He pauses, his voice faltering slightly before he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unsure if I’m apologizing for his loss or simply for prying too much.

He nods, a faint, melancholic smile gracing his lips. “It’s all right. She’s here, in a way.” He taps the plaque lightly, the metal clinking softly under his touch. “I like to think she’d be proud.”

I smile back. “I’m sure she would be.”

As the man turns and drifts back into the crowd, I feel that familiar sensation of being watched. Scanning the room, my eyes catch on a figure with platinum hair, sitting at the bar and sipping his drink. Katsuki’s gaze is locked onto me, as if he’s been waiting the entire time.

“You’re staring,” I tease. Katsuki's eyes track my every movement, but he doesn’t respond immediately, just extends a glass of wine as I reach him.

“Couldn’t help it,” he replies, his voice low. “You were stealing the spotlight.”

I chuckle softly, accepting the wine, brushing my fingers against his. “I guess I just found something worth looking at.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he leans back against the bar. "Me too.”

I take a sip of the wine, letting its warmth wash over me, and smile at him, feeling a little lighter.

The night flows like that, with a steady rhythm of quiet moments and his sharp, witty remarks keeping things light. Katsuki's hand rests on the small of my back, guiding us toward the entrance. We finally step outside, the colder winter weather enveloping us, and the next thing I know, they’re on us—paparazzi swarming from every direction. The blinding lights, the rapid clicking of cameras, and the overwhelming noise—it’s all too much. I blink, trying to make sense of it when suddenly, someone shoves past me. Hard.

My breath catches in my throat as I stumble forward, feet catching on the concrete. My heart stops in that split second—until a strong arm wraps around me, pulling me upright. It’s Katsuki who catches me mid-fall, his grip firm but careful, instantly shifting me behind him like the first time we met.

The second he pushes me behind his back, I feel his whole body tense. He’s furious—I can see it in the tightness of his jaw, the fire burning in his eyes. Katsuki’s glare cuts through the crowd, searing into the faces of the people around us. The once-shouting paparazzi shrink back, their aggressive pursuit turning hesitant under his gaze. My arms wrap around his waist, attempting to calm him, but it’s pointless.

His voice is low, a growl barely restrained. “Who the hell touched her?”

No one dares respond. The air around us feels heavy, almost crackling with his anger. He takes a step forward, towering over them.

“I said, who did it? Step forward, or I swear to god, I’ll give you something to report about.”

The crowd of photographers seems to freeze, like they’re deciding whether getting the next big story is worth Dynamight’s wrath. There’s a moment of eerie silence, then a few of them start backing away, realizing that whatever shot they were hoping for isn’t worth the risk.

He turns back to me, his crimson eyes searching my face with a sharp, almost frantic focus. His hands lift to rest on the sides of my face, and despite everything, his touch is gentle, almost delicate.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough but quieter now.

I nod, even though my heart’s still racing, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good,” he mutters, his jaw still clenched, though his grip loosens slightly. "If anyone tries something like that again, I’ll handle it.” He glances back at the remaining paparazzi, eyes narrowing into slits. “I'll fucking kill you. Put that on the record.”

With that, he guides me forward, his arm firmly around my waist, shielding me from any more intrusions. As we walk away from the crowd, I glance up at him, noticing the way he stays on high alert, even as the commotion begins to die down.

“Thanks, katsuki,” I whisper, but he just grunts in response, his eyes still scanning for any threats. But in this moment, walking beside him, I don’t mind the danger. Because I know, without a doubt, that he’s got me.

Author's note: I was giggling and kicking my feet this entire chapter. We are so back baby.

[tbaluver]

Hi ,may I request LaDs boys headcanons with rope/handcuffs, etc.?

Using Handcuffs- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: 18+, suggestive content, MDNI, filthy filthy smut, smut with no plot i think a/n: hi anonnie i hope this was okay ! i added some smut after the head canons bc i've been busy with school but ill have some more content out for you guys later this week ! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Would use handcuffs for roleplay because him a uniform is kind of hot. The handcuffs would be from the Linkon police station so both of you have to do your best to not leave any evidence of what y'all did with the handcuffs.

He would be worried at first if the handcuffs were hurting you so you two would create a safe word just in case.

Would take his time with you, listening very carefully to the reactions he does to your body. He'll press wet hot kisses and trail his tongue all over your body. Makes sure to appreciate every part and inch. He might even tease you by pinching or rubbing swirls with his tongue on your hardened nipples while making eye contact with you.

── .✦

“You’re under arrest.”

He pulls away from the heated kiss, securing your other wrist and pinning you firmly against the bed. He gazes down at your body, one finger tracing your shapes and curve. His evol police uniform was a mess, his hair disheveled and nearly every button was undone.

 He removes his belt with ease, eagerly trying to release his throbbing cock from his work pants. As he takes off his uniform, his toned chest and muscles are fully revealed, while he leans down towards you. He sucks and swirls his tongue around your hard bud and lavishes the other with the shared attention with your other breast.

He lets one free hand slide between your legs, carefully exploring your soft lips before easing his shaft into you. You wish you could hold onto him for support but instead you can only grasp the metal restraints on your wrists.

He places open wet kisses along your neck, as he slowly eased in and out of you, pulling out with soft moans. You clench around his cock as your legs wrap around his waist, providing the only support you can manage while your wrists remain restrained.

“Xa-Xavier, please.” You begged, and he shoves himself deeper inside of you until your bellies meet. It felt as if the air in your lungs pushed out as you fought the wave of pleasure that was pounding into you.

“Sorry criminals don’t deserve rewards.”

You tried to keep yourself together but you knew you were closer to falling apart beneath him. His back muscles flexed as he thrusted sharp and fast into you. Small clips of words and pants slipped out of your lips as your legs shake around him. You were a whimpering mess below him as both of you met your sweet release. His thrusts got shallow and erratic as his breath was hot against your skin. He rested his head on your shoulders as he let out a soft sigh.

He slowly looked up at you and smiled softly. The lust and arousal in his eyes are gone, and he leans down to kiss you passionately, as if it’s been weeks since he last did. He pulls away, his fingers softly curve around your cheek.

“Xavier what did I do to become a criminal?”

“For stealing my heart.”

Zayne:

If you were being a brat or stubborn he would use handcuffs to mainly teach you a lesson. Would leave you a whimpering and babbling mess until you admit what you did was wrong.

Although he is trying to teach you a lesson, he'll always make sure to make you finish first, no matter how overstimulated you are, and he'll finish right after you. He'll start off using his fingers or using a vibrator before he fully puts his cock inside you.

Does not like to use rope because he worries that it might give you rope burn so he prefers using handcuffs to easily get you out of it.

Likes to play with your hardened nipples with his slender fingers or his tongue or at the same time. He finds it amusing to know it's that easy to get them hard.

── .✦

It didn’t have to come to this. The point of having to use restraints on you for not following his instructions. It seems you continue to be stubborn. He had to teach you a lesson or two or more.

You had no idea how long it has been since you’ve been tied to this bed. You lost count on how many rounds he has done. Taking and taking, until there is nothing left of you but only a mess he has created. 

Your legs were spread wide open as he held the vibrator to your clit again. “ngh- pl-please Zayne..no more need you.” you pleaded as you fidget your arms and the metal of handcuffs clang against the bedframe of the bed.

He scoffed, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “I’ll release you, but only on one condition.” The bed shifts and you can feel him hovering over you. Leaning in, he whispers into your ear, “No touching.” You bite your lip, nodding frantically as he frees your wrists from the handcuffs.

He pumps his cock a couple times before he enters inside of you. The sight of him and his aching red tip somehow produce more juices out of you. Whimpering at the stretch of his girth, your fingers grip the bed sheets to the point your knuckles are turning white. He trails reassuring lips to your jaw and to your neck so you can relax as he continues to fully go inside you. He holds onto your thighs for support so he can hit the exact spot that you love. He rocks his hips, his pace starts off slowly. Once he feels you squeeze him, he picks up the pace, the drag of his cock against your sweet spot leaving you in a trance.

He pounds into you, making your tits bounce. You latch your arms around his back to find some support and hold on for the ride. With every thrust, you're getting closer and closer to your sweet release. His name falling out of your mouth, gasping in between the words,  as he fucks you through your high.

Keeping a tight grip on his back, you finally let go, meeting the wave of euphoria that passes through your system and erupts out of your body. You slowly ease your arms off his back, only to feel him grasp one of your hands and secure it back onto the bed frame of the bed.

“Looks like you still haven’t learned your lesson.”

You were in for quite a long night.

Rafayel:

He likes using the handcuffs from time to time. He gets hard off watching you struggle to desperately touch him. He likes watching the puddle of mess your pussy makes all just for him.

He'll like to tease or overstimulate you by edging or putting a vibrator in you til you have you're begging him to touch you.

However if you were the one to tie him up, oh boy, this man would be a whimpering and babbling mess under or over you, depending on the position you have him in. If you wanted to be a little tease, you can blindfold him so he doesn't get to see you. It wouldn't take him long for him to be begging you to let him go so he can touch and see you.

── .✦

He had you tied up to the bed as he slipped a bullet vibrator in you. He steps away from the bed, leaving it feeling empty as he stands fully upright in front of you. He takes in your half naked appearance that’s restrained in handcuffs and he smirks in amusement. Pointing the remote at you, he turns it on, and you feel a slow, pulsing buzz begin.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t finish without me, kay?” He tilts his head with a mischievous grin and he waves the remote playfully before stepping out of the bedroom.

You bite your bottom lip, the sensation swirling around you, pulsing and making you crave his tasty cock. You let out moans and pants as he switches the modes that remind you of him. Your cunt practically fluttering around the vibrator and you struggle to not rock into it.

You're practically yelling and begging for him as the vibrations would go in a pattern of highs and lows that left you aching and stimulated without any direct touches. With your eyes tightly shut, you didn’t even notice him leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smirk on his lips, as he fiddled with the vibrators settings. He’s been watching you now for quite some time, clearly amused by the mess you made of yourself.

“Geez cutie, all this for me? I’m flattered.” He teases, kneeling between your legs, spreading your pussy lips with his fingers to take a closer look at your soaking pussy.

“I’m feeling generous from your performance earlier.” He says as he removes the vibrator and replaces it by massaging your clit in gentle circles. You roll your hips to match his pace as much as you can. He slides a finger into your pussy, massaging the insides of your walls, leaving you whining and desperate for more. His fingers speed up, filling the room with lewd sounds of his pretty fingers pumping in and out of your slick cunt.

He couldn’t help it. He’d grip your thighs as he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You can hear the sounds of him tasting you, soft lapping and little pleased whimpers from the back of his throat make your toes curl and hips jump for more. Oh how you desperately want to run your fingers through his hair and hold his head down against your pussy until he makes you cum again and again.

He latches onto your clit, sucking gently in between harsh presses with the tip of his tongue. Your cunt clenched tightly and your body finally gave in. You gasp, hips jolting towards his pretty mouth when you cum, your clit throbbing against his tongue. His chin glistened from your juices. He climbs on top of you, locking eyes with a playful grin. Tilting his head, he asks with a mischievous smile,

“How about an encore, cutie?”

Sylus:

Will use it for roleplay or for brat taming you. Sometimes he can be a sub and he'll let you tie him up. He doesn't mind if it were handcuffs or rope. He finds it arousing that you were the one dominating him. However if you do test his patience too much, don't expect him to go easy on you next time.

If he were to use rope, he doesn't tie them that tight. He would have your wrists and legs tied depending on the position.

If it were doggy, he'd have your wrists tied up and you'd use your elbows for support while he pounds into you from the behind. Sometimes he'll smack your ass.

Sometimes he'll do penetration so you can feel his cock deeper inside of you.

── .✦

“This is how you keep your prey sweetie.”

You never should doubt your lover for his way of things. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been easily restrained to your shared bed in a blink of an eye. He stands over the bed, amused at your naked form.

Sylus has taught you many things- how to handle a gun better, the art of sparring, and how to keep your prey engaged. It’s been a while since you had him restrained at the bed while searching for the brooch, only to realize he could have easily escaped the restraints. You silently cursed yourself for your oversight and for trusting the twins.

“The more you struggle, the more I plan to keep you there.” He chuckles, watching you struggling to get the restraints loose.

He steps closer to you and leans over. “Tell me, how do you plan on escaping?” 

You shift under him trying to use your legs to attack but he was able to push your legs down with ease. He presses over your restrained wrists before interlocking them with his own hands. He hovers over you with a smile as if he was taunting you. You lean up and kiss him on his lips, only to leave him laughing deeply.

“That doesn’t work so easily on me this time sweetie.” He smirks, resting his weight beside you in bed.

His slender fingers poke around your entrance. His ring and index finger slid in with ease due to your soaking cunt. He started to curl his fingers around until he found your sweet spot. He knows he found it when your back arches off the mattress and you let out a moan. He rubs the same spot over and over again before he plants his skilled wet tongue over your clit to push you right over the edge. Your walls clench and pulsate around his fingers as your legs start to shake on either side of his head. You threw your head back into the soft pillows, soft pants and his name spilling out of your mouth as the orgasm rocks through your system.

He looks up at you, his red eyes mixed with determination and arousal.

“I’m not done with you princess, just a little more.”

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 14]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

safe and sound

cw: anxiety/panic attacks, a lot of hurt, a little comfort

wc: 4.7k

“C’mon sweetheart. Stay with me, baby.” 

It’s the alleyway all over again. Reality is slipping right through your fingers faster than water or sand. It spills at your feet. Soaks into the floor and the heels of your shoes as Simon’s hands hold you steady. You can’t feel his warmth but you can feel his pressure digging into the sides of your arms. You can’t breathe. You’re trying to; desperately. Diaphragm contracting viciously over and over, and it makes no difference. Head spinning, mind reeling, you’re trapped in your apartment, eyes glued to the messy floor ruined by some malevolent intruder. You’re spiraling faster than you can handle. 

Marco’s letter rests in a half crumpled mess in the clutch of your fist, but the curve of his handwriting still haunts you. Scars your retinas until all that’s left is his warning. You’re up against that wall again with his hand up your skirt and a corpse at your feet and just like always, you fawn. Never strong enough to fight back. Always smart enough to know there’s never a chance you’d win.

Simon’s fingers wiggle through your palm, coaxing the stiff digits to unfurl as he takes the letter out of your grasp. He doesn’t read it — not on purpose, anyway — but he sees what he needs to. The late fee. The letter M — M for Marco. He tosses it haphazardly to the side to join the rest of the mess around you. No use in keeping it. In letting the reminder of this mess haunt you. 

“Chip. C’mon sweetheart, talk to me,” he presses. It’s difficult to keep his tone even as wary eyes flitter around the apartment. The blinds are drawn shut, but that doesn’t mean you’re in the clear. You’re not safe here. Every muscle in his body screams at him to just drag you out of here by your wrist but he bites back that thought as his hands gently rise to cup your cheeks. “Listen to me. Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re okay.” 

If you hear any of his comfort, it doesn’t do much. Wide, dilated eyes stare through him as your chest heaves with your breathing. It rattles along your windpipe like screaming iron, air expelling from your lungs too quickly to make any use of the oxygen. His thumbs swipe along your cheeks, briney wetness coating his skin, and he ensures you can’t look anywhere else besides him. 

“Look at me.” His plea prods something in the back of your mind, and you finally force your eyes to focus on him. Your bottom lip quivers as your hands reach up to rest on his chest, steadying the weight that suddenly throttles your body. “You’re okay.” 

Muscles seizing, you shake your head as your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt. “No. No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand what he’ll do to me.” 

“Nothin’ is gonna happen to you,” Simon attempts to rationalize. His comfort falls on deaf ears as you continue to shake your head, fists knocking against his chest as if you’re attempting to wiggle out of his grasp. “I’ve gotta get you out of here. Breathe, sweetheart. I’ll get ya somewhere safe.” 

“Nowhere’s safe!” you wail. Any further attempts you make at wiggling away is quickly thwarted by his grip on your face — loving but firm. You’d fall to your knees if it wasn’t for his strength.“I can’t get you mixed up in this, Simon. I can’t. Can’t call the police. Can’t do anything. I just- I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I just- I don’t wanna lose you, too. I can’t keep- keep doing this. Can’t keep losing people. I’m so-so fucking tired of this. Simon, please, I don’t know what to do!” 

Your prattling only makes your fear sear through your veins. It’s unforgiving. White hot metal that doesn’t care where the damage ends or begins. Where the scar forms. Where the skin adheres. He tries to soothe the ache, but it’s everywhere. How can he allay a pain when it’s ingrained in every strand of DNA that creates you? When it’s all you’ve ever been composed of?

“Alright. Alright, no police. Nothing. Just me and you, alright? I’ll take you to my place. Get ya somewhere safe, yeah?” Simon explains. “We need time to work this out, but we can’t do that here.” 

“I can’t let you do that. You don’t understand,” you babble. Snot bubbles in the back of your throat, attempts to seep down your nose, so you sniff. Its trail continues despite your efforts, and you use the sleeve of your jumper to soak up the moisture instead.

“Don’t have time to argue,” Simon huffs. He’s getting frustrated. Anxious. He doesn’t like being here in the midst of this chaos. This mess Marco — and whoever the fuck else — left for you. He needs to get you someplace safe and hidden — someplace Marco can’t hurt you. “Please. I wanna help you, sweetheart. Let me help you.” 

You freeze at his plea. Suddenly that searing hot pain doesn’t seem nearly as bad as the echo of an old ghost begins to rattle your brain. Your hyperventilation quells. Dies down until it’s nothing but pathetic hiccups and sniffles. You’re not sure if it’s because of Simon’s comfort, or the shock of his words. This deja vu will kill you. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you eventually nod. “Okay,” you breathe. “Okay…” 

As you swallow back a sob, you hope this time is different. 

Breathing doesn’t come easy. With each intersection Simon drives through your palms clench until the tips of your nails leave crescent moons in your skin. You look at each vehicle with agita. Scrutinizing every detail of the drivers, searching for any terrible familiar face. Nothing jumps out at you, but you refuse to trust anything. Anyone. You have never been safe in this city. All it has is sharp rusty teeth and hands that refuse to let go. You’ve been trying to scrub off its fingerprints your entire life and all you have to show for it is raw skin and bruises. 

A rippling scream tears through your muscles as Simon’s fingers brush against the back of your hand. Jumping, you look at him with wild eyes. His solicitude is obvious. Etches deep into the thin line of his lips as he stares at the road ahead. Thick fingers wiggle between yours until your hand is enveloped by his. He’s much warmer than you are, running off pure anger and frustration, and you try not to grimace at the way your sweat rubs off on his skin. Feeling your gaze on him, he glances at you from the corner of his eyes before he gives you a firm squeeze. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assures. It’s all he’s been saying since he found the door to your apartment kicked in. “We’ll figure this out. Promise.” 

By some miracle, you make it off the streets alive. Simon doesn’t let go of your hand until he’s pulling into the garage nestled beside his house. The neighborhood is quiet. Pushed to the edge of the city, houses are spread far and sparse with trees for coverage and large yards perfect for rambunctious animals or squealing children. It reminds you of the area John and Row live, albeit a bit less extravagant. Perfect for small families wanting to get out of the city. 

You didn’t think working security at a club would make someone that much. 

Simon retrieves your bag from the backseat before helping you out of the car. You stare at the object as he holds it in his hand. Right now, your entire life is in there. Only a handful of clothes, not having enough time to pack anything besides what was already in there from the holiday. It’s just like when you were a kid — running from foster home to foster home, living out of suitcases until you were able to be saved by Row and John. Everything always comes back somehow. Cycling over and over, forcing you to relive the things you can never seem to outrun.

Feeling your trepidation, Simon takes your hand again before he brings you into the house. Like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld, it feels like you’re stepping into a different dimension. Breathing comes easier, and warmth envelops you as he sits you in the living room. Dazed, you glance around. Everything is blurred — just out of focus — too anxious to properly take things in. You can make out the cushioning beneath you and the dark stained coffee table that separates you from the wide screen TV. Tools and metal parts to some sort of machine lay scattered along the table, something Simon apologizes for in a hushed chuckle. Abrasive cleaning solvent hangs in the air but it’s stale. Long standing. 

“Here.” Simon settles next to you and you feel the cushions shift beneath his weight. He holds a glass of water for you to take and for a moment you’re transported to the night Andrei cornered you. How you woke up in the conversation pit of one of the VIP rooms. How Simon’s first instinct always seems to be to nurture you. Protect you. “You should drink.” 

As you raise the glass to your lips, your emotions quietly quell and cocainize. Fear still attempts to rear its ugly head as it rips through your thoughts, biting through anything comforting until it’s ruined just like everything else. Cold water crashes over your tongue, fighting off the pertinacious snot that haunts your mouth from your sobs. It doesn’t make you feel better, but you can see the way Simon’s shoulders relax with each gulp, so you do it anyway. When you’re finished, he takes it from you and sets it among the mess of metal tools and parts on the coffee table before bringing his full focus to you. 

Elbows resting on his knees, his hands fiddle with one another like he wants to reach for you again. Hold you until either hell freezes over or the pain ends; but he doesn’t. Sniffling, you stare at the floor in front of you, arms wrapped around yourself. You can hear the thoughts in his head before they even manifest into words from his mouth. 

“Tell me everything,” he says. 

This might kill you — you’re certain of it. If it doesn’t kill you, it’ll kill someone else. Your dirty little secrets always have a way of coming back around in the ways you least expect them to. 

“You’re not going to believe any of it,” you say. It’s supposed to be humorous. A joke. Something to take off the edge of your worries but it comes out flat and fighting. You don’t want to tell him. You’re tired of reliving this nightmare. 

“I’ve seen a lotta crazy shit, sweetheart. Doubt this can be any worse,” Simon coaxes. He shifts and the weight echoes through the couch; forces the cushions to dip and your body to go with it, pulled toward the gravity of him. “That note. Mentioned something about a late fee. You owe someone money?” 

Solemnly, you nod. 

“How much?” 

You swallow. “Three hundred thousand.” 

Not even Simon can hide his surprise. It’s an absurd number. Something that would only be owed to a bank for a house loan, not a person or organization. It’s significantly more than what his brother owed, and the confusion settles bone deep in his body. 

“How much have you paid off?” he asks.

“That’s not how it works,” you mutter. 

Simon’s question contorts on his face well before it leaves his mouth. You see it in the shift of his body in your periphery. It’s a precarious situation — keeping this secret the way you have. It’s been decomposing inside of you, filling you with noxious gas that builds and builds. You feel the pressure. The way it tears at the seams of your body. You try to keep it bottled up — under tight lock and key — but when you finally gain the courage to look up at him, you know you’ve already lost. 

“This is my dad’s debt,” you begin. “He worked for a man named Vladimir Makarov. He’s not… a good person. Works in organized crime groups. The mafia. That sort of stuff. I guess my dad messed up badly on some sort of job and got himself killed, costing them a good chunk of cash. Since he was too dead to pay them back, they sent a man named Marco to try and pressure my mum into paying, and when she wouldn’t, he killed her. Then it was my turn.” 

Your voice cracks like a log being consumed by fire, and it burns just as bad. Keeping this noisome secret buried deep inside of you hurts just as bad coming back up as it did when it was first shoved down your throat. But Simon doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t grimace or wince. He stays firm as he listens, leaning closer as if ready to catch you when you fall. 

“Marco… didn’t give me much of a choice. I mean… I was just a kid. I didn’t know what to do, so I said I’d pay it because I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t. Threatened me saying I shouldn’t tell the cops, so when they arrived, I didn’t. Not even through their questioning, none of it. I was alone. I had lost my dad, my mum… everything.” 

There are certain things you leave out. Things you don’t think you’ll ever be able to say, even if you whispered it into some void that wouldn’t echo a single word. If you told him about what Marco did to you, the way his hands defiled you the way they did, would he still look at you the same? With what you’re so desperately hoping is love? Could it be possible for someone to care about something as broken as you? Would it be worth it — loving something tainted? Too afraid to find out, you choke back the memory before continuing. 

“Had no family, no one to stay with… Chief, Row’s dad, took me in. He worked the case of my parents murder and housed me. I think he was used to taking in fosters, it’s… fitting of him to do so. But he was too smart. Sniffed out that something more was going on and I broke. Told him everything. 

“He tried taking me to the police station to get a proper report but we got into a wreck. It was planned. Had to have been, because when I came to, Makarov was there, and Chief was stabbed. They must have been tapping his calls, or something, because they took some sort of chip out of his phone before leaving. Or, maybe I’m just wishing that because… fuck, Simon, I got him killed. I told him even though Marco warned me and he’s dead. I- I killed Row’s dad and she doesn’t even know. The coroner said he died from injuries related to the accident and they all fucking believed it and I’m the only one who knows the truth. I’m a fucking liar and- and I hate myself s-so much for it-” 

Everything begins to spin and you’re at the epicenter of the destruction. It’s too fast. Unrelenting centripetal force ripping you apart cell by cell. You fall into Simon just as he reaches for you. Face buried into his chest, he holds you with firm hands on your waist and head as your tears soak into the cotton of his shirt. Right now, he’s the only thing keeping you together. The only thing attempting to mend the cracks rapidly splitting you apart. Kissing the top of your head, he mutters quiet assurances to you as your shoulders jolt and heave with your cries. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “It’s gonna be alright.” 

“I’m not naive enough to believe that,” you cry. “This isn’t a debt I can truly pay off. They’re not gonna stop when I hit three hundred thousand. I know that. That’s not how this works. I can’t get out of this. Even if I give them all the money in the world they’re still going to follow me. Marco terrifies me so much a-and I know he’s not gonna let me go that easily.” 

There’s a heavy silence that breaks with each sob that racks your body, and instead of shushing you, or whispering useless comforts, Simon just holds you. It’s firm and unwavering just like the steady thud of his heart against your cheek. He keeps you there, tucked beneath his arm. You think he’ll keep you here until the world begins to crumble, and then long after it’s withered to dust. He breathes slow and deep, rib cage expanding against your own until you’re in rhythm with him. Even. The only flicker of solace you’ve been able to taste in ages. 

It takes some time for you to swallow the steady stream of spit that plagues your mouth and choke back the snot rummaging through your sinuses. You’ve been reduced into nothing but a babbling child — always a child. Something weak and small. Clever enough to think you can slip out of this mess yet never brave nor smart enough to complete it. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle. Your well has run dry. Any evidence of your tears now lays soaked into the fabric of Simon’s shirt, heavy and thick as it sticks to his skin. “I… I shouldn’t have told you about this. Now I’ve dragged you into this too. This is dangerous shit. So many people I’ve cared about have died already, I… shouldn’t have let myself get close to you. You don’t want to be around someone like me.” 

“I’m not leavin’ you.” His response is quick. Bursts free from his mouth like a secret he never even dreamed of keeping. Arms tensing, his hold on you only grows stronger. 

“Simon, I don’t think you understand,” you breathe. A plea bubbles up in your throat, half prepared and sour. “The one person I ever told about this died because of me, and I can’t stand that happening to you, too. You… you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. You can’t tell anyone. If you even try to do anything about this, you-you’re just gonna end up like Chief and I don’t think I could take that. Please, Simon.” 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. I handled that scuffle with Andrei fine, I’ll handle anyone else who tries to lay a fuckin’ finger on you. I’m not lettin’ you do this alone,” he promises. 

Something shifts. There’s a change in reality. A thickening of the air so palpable Simon nearly suffocates on it. He feels the way your breathing halts — yearns for that subtle rhythm to return against his chest — and his heart stutters. Begins to shred itself cell by cell. Aorta crushing in on itself, shattering all valves and cusps. 

Your movement is slow. Practiced and careful. You raise your head off of his chest and despite his better judgment, he lets you. Simon watches you carefully as you look up at him. He doesn’t like what he sees. That frost obscuring your eyes. The tightening of your lips. Brows furrowing together like you’ve found yourself caught in the den of some beast — like you’re face to face with a monster. 

“That… man in the alley… I never told you his name.” 

This is where the facade slips. Where the mask shatters and Simon is left with nothing but the horrid truth he tries to hide. It’s easy to lie. Might as well be second nature at this point. An expert storyteller, omission of truth is just as easy to spew at you as the unadulterated version itself and still, he hesitates. Simon thinks that, maybe if only for a moment, that you deserve the whole story. Something not shrouded in thick umbra. But it’s this deliberation that has your mind swirling in an inescapable tempest. You think of the worst —

— you think of Makarov. 

When you retract fully from Simon, he lets you go and it burns. It’s as if your flesh had been ripped from his, and now he holds nothing but a wound. The look you give him hurts more. Those wide, dilating eyes; lips parted as if ready to draw the breath to scream. 

“How do you know Andrei?” you demand with a waver in your tone. 

“Didn’t know him until I caught him in the alley. Swear it. But I couldn’t let the bastard get away, not after what he did to you. Figured out who he was pretty quick after that,” Simon answers truthfully. “Had Johnny’s help, ‘course.” 

“Do you know how dangerous that is? How dangerous Andrei is?” you snap. Frayed nerves, exhausted adrenals — you’re at your limit; the very edge of what you can take. “He works with Makarov! With Marco!” 

“Didn’t care how dangerous it was, sweetheart, I’ve dealt with worse.” His fingers flex. They miss your warmth. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he rests his hands on his knees. 

“This isn’t a joke Simon, this is the fucking mafia you can’t just-” 

“There’s more than just Makarov’s syndicate.” 

There’s not enough air for you to breathe in. It’s siphoned away from you. Forced elsewhere. Someplace of better use where you can’t continue to waste it. He’s insinuating something you’re not sure you want to uncover the meaning of, but your heart and body already know the answer. It trembles at the thought that this man who can hold you so tenderly could be capable of the same violence inflicted upon you by others. 

“What do you mean?” 

You need to hear him say it. 

“I’m not like Marco or Andrei, I’m not like any of ‘em,” he assures, “but I work for Price, and the Price family has been in this business much longer than Makarov has.” 

You open your mouth to call him out on his mendacity, but no words flow forward. His words rattle around in your mind, and still no matter how many times they echo off your skull, you can’t get them to make sense. It’s wrong. Contradicting everything you ever knew about your friends — about the only family you have. 

“You’re lying,” you breathe as you shake your head. 

“I’d never lie to you,” he swears.

“No, I know John and Row. For fucks sake, I lived with them for some time. They’re not like that. John isn’t like that he’d never hurt people like- like the way Marco does.”

A canyon forms between the two of you, and it only grows wider. Simon watches the way you retreat, curling away from him like his very presence forces you to wilt before you’ve even bloomed. 

“Price is a good man, but that doesn’t allow him to run away from his family legacy. Trust me, if he had a choice, he would have nothin’ to do with it. He was forced into this bloody business, and despite its reputation, he’s done a lot of good with it. One of the only reasons why I joined was because of him. Because he gave me the opportunity to do something good,” Simon attempts to explain. “His club is a front for the business. It’s how he keeps an eye on things. Keeps people in the neighborhood safe. This isn’t like the movies with bullshit senseless killings, sweetheart. There are rules and traditions to uphold.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” you sputter. “So John just… just runs this organization and you’re… fine with being a part of it? You really expect me to believe this?” 

“Why do you think I’m so good at fighting? Think I picked that up at the club? From tossin’ rowdy cunts out on the streets? You think Mrs. Price asked me to keep an eye on you just because I work for John? That she would ask some fuckin’ bouncer to protect you? Nuh uh. You think anyone would just have the resources to hunt down information about Andrei? A bastard who covers his tracks better than the goddamn American CIA? I told ya, I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m tellin’ you this because you’re safe with me. You don’t have just my protection, but John’s, and everyone else who works for him.” 

“And Row? She just…?” You gesture with your hands. Sharp and jolty. 

“She’s fully aware of everything.” 

That incessant ringing returns to terrorize your hearing and you can do nothing but sit and let it wash over you. There’s a culmination of confusion and betrayal that ferments and addles the raw neurons in your brain. The pressure builds and strains until your hand clasps over your mouth to obscure the smile on your face. It tears across your face like a wound. Then, you laugh. It is not light. Far from sweet. Razor blades slice through your throat as your titter sputters out like a dying engine. Burying your face in your hands, you rub at your eyes as if you can erase this reality away and jump into the next one. 

“So… you mean to tell me that the whole reason I kept quiet, what I was doing to keep them safe, doesn’t even matter because they’ve been in this mess the whole fucking time anyway?” you bite. 

The irony is bitter. Burns worse than bile on your tongue. Your entire reality lies in shards at your feet, and a bilious tingle gnaws at the back of your neck. Conflicting emotions throttle one another in your chest cavity and you can feel your vision begin to tunnel. Questioning everything, your hands fall from your eyes and you stare at Simon. He’s steady, tight lipped and wary. 

Can you really still trust him? 

“They wanted to keep you safe. Didn’t want to drag you into that type of life. John’s got strict rules ‘bout that,” Simon attempts to rationalize. 

“Safe? A lot of good that fucking does me.” Adrenaline peaks in your system and you feel the muscles in your legs contract. They’re telling you to flee. Run far away from this issue and never return, and you just about listen to it. Shooting up to your feet, your hand clasps over your mouth. This is too much to process. You have so many questions swirling in your mind, none of which you can fully articulate. You’re at the precipice of shutting down for good. “I need… I need time to think about this.” 

Simon mirrors your movements, and he’s on his feet within an instant. He studies you, scrutinizes every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. Careful hands extend as if ready to capture you — ready to keep you close where you’re safe in his arms — but he doesn’t make any movement besides nodding. 

“Of course. This is a lot, I know, and I’m sorry, but I’m here, yeah? Not gonna let anythin’ happen to you. I meant what I said ‘bout keepin’ you safe, sweetheart.” 

The thick pads of his fingers ghost against the side of your arm as he steps forward. He needs to swaddle you. Wrap you in his arms. It’s all selfish. It’s all for himself. He just needs to know he’s not about to scare you off for good. That he hasn’t lost you. 

Both his fingers and his heart stop when you flinch at his touch. 

“I think I need to be alone right now,” you say flatly, shoulder retracting from him. 

For a moment, the only thing Simon can do is stare. Arms wrapped around your torso, eyes reddened from irritating tears — it doesn’t feel right. None of this does. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as his jaw flexes, thick muscles dancing through his cheeks. Teeth crushing the tender flesh inside of his mouth, he can nearly taste blood. It’s nothing but bitter iron. His hand falls away from you where it rests at his side, but his fingers still twitch. Still miss your warmth. 

Eventually, even though it feels like it kills him, he nods. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

[onyourhyuck]

EXCHANGE LESSONS | L.MK

Pairing: mark lee x fem!oc

Summary: You’re the top student in every subject and your classmate!mark asks for your help in science and you offer the unprecedented exchange lessons that leave him off guard.

genre: smut, tutoring, classmates, inexperienced female oc, the concept of virginity being taken (it’s a social construct but you get it) and dominant!mark. minor groping, pussy eating and penetrating sex. Releasing on stomach, unprotected sex (please use a condom irl)

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You’re at the top of the food chain in every subject. Your desolated heart and effortless mind astounds the entire community around you. Since you’re such a smart and passionate individual, people doubt you have any flaws.

But that’s not so true. You do suck at one subject; Sex. Your body and mind leave your soul every moment you tried doing the most remote action like making out — you suck at it.

Perhaps it’s because you’re not comfortable enough with the person? Or maybe the idea of being sexually active is a new concept to you. This puts you at a frustrating disadvantage. You want to experience what it is like to be held by another person, to be worshipped and loved by every curve you have. You really want to experience intimacy. Someone’s hands holding your waist with fingers scrolling circles on your bare skin. Dancing out in heavy rain? Angry makeouts. Jealousy. You want to experience those rollercoasters of emotions. But you can’t because you’re missing the second person. This was no way a one man action.

That was until an opportunity arises. The boy in your class that wasn’t so good at any of his classes, barely scraping by. He had a thick foreign accent - and he never stops boosting about how he’s from Canada. He was visibly attractive. Most girls in your class fancy him.

Mark never really spent his day alone. Ever. There will always be people surrounding him. It’s like this was his world and we’re all just living in it you know?

“Hey Y/n,” A voice strikes up from behind. The boy standing only few inches from your height with a beige cap on backwards. It gave him a real bandboyish look today.

Your eyes dart to him. At first you look visibly confused but you manage to respond with a very soft greet. “Hey what’s up?”

You guys barely talk so this was all very new. The most talks you ever did was a simple ‘good morning’ to each other and never speak again. In fact this felt very awkward on your end.

Mark’s eyes look on the very left end of the lockers. The built tone body wearing these very baggy clothing press up on the metallic doors. Voice trailing off in an obvious direction. “Uhh, you know nothin’ much. The usual you know how it is.”

‘Yikes why does he look suddenly so guilty and suspicious?’ You question in your own mind. What was this strange feeling in your stomach? Like a hollow pit about to explode.

You mumbles quietly. “Right…”

Turning around your locker slams shut. The stuff you needed was carried by your arms. You thought this conversation had ended considering Mark wasn’t spitting out anything he wanted to say but the moment your back had turned on him, the boy quickly leaps in front of your path.

“Wait!” Mark stops you with two hands urgently.

You stop now with a small shock spread on your eyebrows and a visible streak of annoyance in your eyes.

“Tutor me! I want you to tutor me,” Mark said with a little pant to those syllables he stressed out with a stretch. Those hands come down and it really looks like for a moment he was embarrassed to ask. As if he had no idea how to ask you.

That’s all he wanted from you. It was a tutoring lesson so he could boost his grade up. Because lord knows he needs a good number. Otherwise he is finished with this class.

Your eyes line themselves on the boy. “You want me to tutor you?” You repeated back, Mark gave a simple nod. “Why me? You could have asked someone else.”

He furrows those eyebrows. “You seem- cool enough.” Mark then paused and panicked. Your expression seems unhappy by that anticlimactic response. “I mean! Your notes are cool and easy to understand. You explain things well.”

Well that came out wrong, what he wanted to say is you’re cool enough and you’re the smartest in the class. He doesn’t think he ever saw you get a bad grade.

Deep in your heart you couldn’t say no. Mark seems to be desperate for your help and you technically had an alternative motive. As bad as that sounds you can actually imagine losing your first deed to Mark. He was handsome, without a doubt you maybe fantasised getting off to him before. You don’t want to admit it but you did it more than once.

He was the new boy, wild and bright. Radiant and sweet. He was respectful, popular with everyone he hardly has any enemies. No one could hate a guy like Mark. He was a foreign exchange student from Canada and what more, he was an amazing soccer player last year. He won for your school club a trophy. He’s done pretty remarkable things.

Except his classes, which he severely needs your help with.

Sitting down in your bedroom, you constantly glance over to Mark who was sitting on the other end of your bed writing down on his notebook. To which your mind was at a war between asking him if he wants to do something else or if you should leave your stupid idea behind.

You are lost on how to approach the idea to him. You can’t just say ‘Hey let’s sleep together!’ And look like a sane person. Because that’s the opposite of normal. You barely know the guy too.

Your body lifts up your sweater and you nervously laugh it off. “Ahh it’s so hot, right? I should take this off.” Your hands pull off the warm fabric off your limbs and Mark looks up from his notes to glance at you. He looks at you for good three seconds.

The good look on your visible black tank top and cleavage exposing caught his eye but not enough for him to grasp your intentions. Instead Mark continues his work like the champ he was. Unbothered and gullible.

“Yeah? I feel normal.” Mark relies obliviously. You furrow your eyebrows and feel your stomach clench. Why was it so hard to ask Mark to have sex with you? It’s like the most difficult question for you.

And you never struggled with math questions before. You can’t believe it. Why was a simple risky move harder than school work.

He went back to doing his work. Thankfully you’re an amazing tutor so far your explanations did wonders for Mark. But you’re sat there staring at him with your eyes gawking.

You’re like an eagle pouncing, but you’re hesitant at the same time.

The boy did take notice of your stares and very acknowledged presence. But he didn’t know why and he doesn’t quite want to ask you, because what if that makes you pressured and embarrassed? Mark felt however very watched. Every movement of his pen. Every step of his breathing he makes on the same bed you’re sitting with him on.

It felt discomforting almost?

You clear your voice. “Mark have you ever had…” you pause because you’re suddenly getting to know how intrusive you are being. The boy’s head lifts up and he waits for you to finish.

“Have you ever had sex?” You begin again. You bite on your inner cheek which starts to make Mark flustered. From such a smart and disciplined girl you really have a way of starting conversations.

Mark nodded. “Yeah. Did you?”

Even if it was an inappropriate comment, Mark didn’t lie about it and he answered you truthfully. The boy didn’t know what to say at first. But what’s the harm in saying yes?

You don’t reply and you move a little closer to Mark holding your knees against your chest. Wearing shorts came in handy because Mark can see a full outline of your beautiful legs.

“What was your first time like?” You ask without answering him. Mark raised up his eyebrow thinking to himself. “Uhh,” he sits up on the mattress.

Mark brushed the pen down on the notebook. “I think it was with my girlfriend at the time.” You fully expected him to say some chick at the party but knowing his ex girlfriend was his first time, made this somehow really sweet and romantic.

Mark mumbles. “But what was your like?”

Your lips fell in a thin line. In an embarrassing way you turn away your gaze when your reply hits the taller quick.

“Mark I am a virgin,” You said it with a moment of clarity. He wasn’t sure why you’re still a virgin when you’re decently attractive and hella smart.

It somehow doesn’t make any sense.

Mark’s mouth drops like an umbrella sheet. “No way.” And you nod to show its the truth. Mark laughs a bit not in a mocking way but in a sense of disbelief to lighten up your mood.

He could tell you’re almost ashamed but he didn’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of. In any case he wonders if that’s a positive more than a con.

“Hey Y/n that’s not a bad thing you know that right?” He nudges your arms with his elbow with a smile.

You sigh a little. “I know but I want to experience it. I don’t really care about my virginity that much.”

“So how come you’re still a virgin? You’re pretty and smart.” Mark chuckles, he didn’t quite understand it. If you wanted to lose your virginity card so badly how come you still have it?

Your eyes look at him, your chance to tell him how clueless you are when it comes to sex arises. A part of you don’t want to tell him you’re bad at sex because that’s really embarrassingly stupid. Or the fact that you have no idea how to do anything. You can’t even figure out how kissing goddamn works!

You swallow down your own emotions. “I have no idea how to have sex.”

Moments later your eyes have glued together in what seems to be a staring competition. Mark didn’t think you’d be completely clueless. It came so naturally to him when he was about to do it for the first time. To you this was like a big deal.

Mark comes forward mumbling nervously. “You don’t know how to kiss either?” You shake your head a no.

The boy was silent until his eyes fell down to your lips. They look pretty, they seem very red and plum. He couldn’t grasp it but the guts clench in a sudden contraction.

“Do you want me to teach you?” Mark starts to ask you. Your face fell to the ground or it rather feels like it. He read your mind.

He was so nervous about it, he didn’t want to come off like a freaking creep to you. Little does he know you were begging for this offer.

He trails. “You know — like exchange lessons? You helped me with science and I can help with sex lessons.”

That doesn’t sound too bad to you. The deal was appealing. Your eyes sparkle up and come forward to kiss his lips. When you did the first gesture this said a lot to the boy before you. You were agreeing. You didn’t back away, your eyes were glowing at the idea of him teaching you what to do during sexual encounters. And thus, he opens his mouth slipping in slowly his tongue. Caressing your soft untouched mouth was like a dream come true. You were like melting ice the moment your mouth felt the warmth of the salivas mixing in as one. The kiss was slow at the beginning but occasionally you got the hang of the pace and Mark decided to spice it up.

He had to spice it up for you. Mark wanted to show you how it really is. What it really awaits you. The kiss springs from the bottom, a sudden piercing movement shocks you causing your moans to fall off.

Did he just bite your bottom lip? He smirks at your reaction and pulls you down on the bed. Hovering above your lean shoulders those grabby hands touch on your waist to position you a little downwards to his liking.

Mark kissed your neck, your jawline, down the side to your ears and your shoulders once your top slips off leaving you in your bra.

Your bra was a pretty blue colour. Mark smiles at your chest in slight adoration. Your eyes took a glimpse of his eyes and his lips have small kisses to your chest, to the cleavage. In between your breasts he brushed his face into the softness of your pillows.

“You know I’m surprised you’re a virgin.” He begins quietly, travelling his mouth down to your stomach till your navel touches.

Your feet curl up. This was somehow nerve wrecking but it feels good? But it’s so slow and it’s like he’s bringing you to rest.

“Why?” You ask out quietly.

Mark mumbles when his fingers reach the very entrance of your panty lining. He stops at your abdomen monitoring the shorts he took off. Your panty matches the colour to your lovely bra. You feel so warm between the flat stomach, his fingers slip your panties down to your legs half way.

Eyes look up to see your face. “You strike me as someone who knows everything.” He might be right. You come across as reliable person.

But you don’t know everything unfortunately, you’re only human and you doubt that Mark knows absolutely everything too. You smile shyly and close your thighs together.

This was embarrassing. You never really went further than kissing someone badly before. He could see everything but the moment your legs shut him off Mark gave a small nudge with his hands to pull your thighs apart gently.

“No hiding Y/n come on? Open up for me.”

Your hands cover your face as your legs open up like two doors. Mark smiles in awe but you couldn’t see that. The boy kissed your entrance, like a peck to the lips until those same lips kiss the inner thighs. He loved seeing your legs trembling from nothing but nervousness.

You really are a small ball of wreck.

He quietly says. “You’re pretty down there why are you so worried?”

He didn’t quite understand what was making you this anxious and you shudder when his tongue does kitten lick motions to your pussy. You’re unable to make any sense of what just happened, but all you know is that this feels too good to stop.

Tongue traps at your nub flicking his motions in left and right directions: your pelvis subtly lifts off the bed to roll back. Mark hums against your entrance, he was devouring you as if it’s his first time too. It feels too good for you and that’s what’s making him get off the whole idea: You feeling good.

His tongue went inside your small hole giving it a few thrusts of his tongue. His nose pressed right against your clit. Your burning hot skin flushes his face and your thighs squeeze when your stomach clenches so tightly. Without a warning you slip into oblivion.

Mumbling out highly. “Fuckfuckfuck m’gonna cum.”

Striving to give you the best orgasm of your life, Mark feverishly sucks on your edging pearl, your clit was practically swollen and this pushed you right off the edge just as he wanted you to. He was watching up at you from down there seeing your spine arch and your moans hit the back of your throat, so hoarse and sore. The way your eyes shut and your hands grip at anything nearby: the bed sheets, your breasts, his thick hair.

Pulling out of your wet slimey pussy from all the coating of saliva. You take a deep breath, Mark positions him above you he saw your bright reddish cheeks and your sparkling wet eyes. You look beautiful like this.

He whispers. “Do you still want to continue?”

Your mind was a fog but you never hesitated to reply to your classmate. “Yes, please.”

It’s definitely a sight to see. You’re being so adamant about it. Mark leans down and pulls down his rock solid crotch out. Those jeans slipped off and it leaves an ugly feeling when you’re hard in jeans.

It feels like a big weight lifted from him when it comes off. The boy sits back and gave you a glance as if he is telling you to come forward.

“Do you want to take the boxers off?” You heard him ask you. Your eyes light up and with your small hands pulling off his boxers. Mark gave you a dark gaze when his large cock springs up against his stomach. Your mouth waters just looking at it.

Your stomach made a small butterfly clutch too. You look at him in panic. “Whoa wait, will that fit?” You sound so dumbfounded. But Mark grinned and he rubs your thighs reassuringly.

“It can, it will. Trust me on this I’m the teacher here.”

He was right he was the teacher here and you’re just a mere helpless virgin. You lay down on the bed sheets when Mark moves on top of you his hard tip had to do a few teasing streaks on your entrance. You were anticipating him to just ram it in — but he wasn’t.

You were just impatient and Mark was a very patient guy who didn’t want to rush a process like this. At least for now he doesn’t have anywhere to be, what’s the rush right?

The tip was pushed out and back in, it was like a car reverse and driving forward. Your entrance was locked tight so Mark wants to stretch you out with just the tip. He had a feeling he might have to use two fingers before anything else is to happen. The boy pressed his thumb and rubs your clit. You mumble out a whine, and then his singular finger goes inside you just to do a little stretch here and there. The second finger was when it starts to feel too good for you. Your eyes shut and your voice starts to feel good.

He made his hand shake a little and then come out. Only for his tip to slip in fully in you and then gradually expand his shaft inside your pussy. You feel good, Mark was addicted to the feeling of his cock buried in your velvety new walls.

He grunts, his breath shaking. “Ah fuck Y/n, you feel better than i thought you would.”

It took every ounce of his body not to rut against you like a wild fucking beast, Mark moves up against your stomach. Your hands tremble upwards to hold his forearms.

“Mh! Fuck, it kind of hurts.” Your voice murmurs and the boy had his attention all on you. He was watching only your face when his body did the moving thing. When you told him it kind of hurts, Mark had a feeling the pain will turn to pleasure soon for you. All he could do was give a small ‘shh’ and a kiss on the forehead for you.

You’re kind of glad Mark is your first. He seems to be gentle and loving enough for this. If it was anyone else you don’t think they would be as supportive as he was to you.

A simple kiss on the forehead made your worries disappear. And you let him rut against your pussy that squelches on his shape, taking every single inch of his cock until he was balls deep.

He was right, the pain did turn to pleasure real soon.

He brushed some of your hair back from your face as his thrusts connect to his pivoting muscles and hips. Mark admires your honesty expressions too, he couldn’t help himself. You were pretty even in this state.

The boy brushed down your jawline, he leans to capture a kiss on your lips. Your voice slips off like a breathy breeze. “Mark — feels too good.”

He smiles down at you. “I know,”

Your thighs wrap themselves on his waist and that brought him deeper in a whole new position when he is pushing in your loving arms. And then you feel a strong urge in the stomach, something that’s about to explode.

Your eyebrow ends connect, furrowing. “M’think I’m gonna cum…”

You didn’t exactly know but the feeling was so intense it overlaps your hearing and your brain goes back moments later after the surging sensation washes over you.

Mark feels you cumming right on his cock, he grits his teeth together jawline attached with his remaining strength.

“Me too, I’m close, hold on.” He mumbles lowly until he fucks himself just enough to pull out of you and then flick his wrist down the shaft to paint you of his cum on your bare stomach.

Deeply breathing the boy pulls back on the bed, you achingly sit up with a small groan. You never felt your body become this sore.

Your eyes watch Mark as the boy brushed back his hair with his hand. You both look like visible messes. Sweating and panting.

Your lips curve into a small smile. “So, do you need help with anything else in your classes?”

Mark gave a visible chuckle somehow it feels like you’re going to be more of a distraction when you’re going to tutor him than he likes to believe.

“Uhh, let’s see.” He replies, looking at the studying materials you guys left unattended on the floor. Scattered is the right word more like.

“I think I prefer to Exchange Lessons.” He admits, causing you to chuckle.

Mark thinks you do too, considering you’re not disagreeing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Follow my blog for more and reblog it helps a girl out<3 ily

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Aemond has you hostage and has no plans of ever letting you go

The Red Keep felt more like a gilded cage than ever. You paced your chamber, the heavy silence pressing down on you. The door was locked from the outside, and you knew there was no easy way out. Aemond Targaryen, your uncle and now self-proclaimed Prince Regent, had ensured that you were kept under constant guard. His icy gaze seemed to follow you everywhere, a reminder of the precarious position you were in.

Aemond's plan was clear: he intended to marry you, solidifying his claim and following the Targaryen tradition of keeping the bloodline pure. But beneath the veneer of duty, there was something deeper, darker. You had seen it in his eye, the way he looked at you with a mix of possession and longing. It unnerved you, made your skin prickle with unease. You had to escape before he could bind you to him in a way you couldn't undo.

The door creaked open, and there he stood, tall and imposing, his expression inscrutable. Aemond stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You swallowed hard, your hand trembling slightly as you grasped the knife hidden in the folds of your dress. The air between you was charged, thick with unspoken words and forbidden desires.

"Aemond," you greeted him, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. He watched you, his single eye sharp and calculating, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"My princess," he replied, his tone smooth and deceptively gentle. "You look restless."

"I wonder why," you retorted, your grip tightening on the knife. "Being kept as a prisoner does that to a person."

He tilted his head, as if considering your words. "You're not a prisoner," he corrected, taking a step closer. "You're my betrothed. Soon to be my wife."

The words sent a chill down your spine. "I will never marry you," you hissed, pulling the knife from its hiding place and pressing it against his throat. Aemond's expression didn't change, not even a flicker of fear crossing his face. He stared at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

"Let me go, Aemond," you demanded, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "I swear I will use this."

He remained still, his eye locked onto yours. Then, with a sudden movement, he grabbed your wrist, wrenching the knife from your grasp with ease. In an instant, you were pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours, the knife now in his hand.

"You think you can threaten me?" Aemond whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "You should know better, dear niece."

You struggled against him, but his grip was unyielding. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Let me go," you spat, trying to sound defiant even as your heart raced.

Aemond's lips curved into a dark smile. "You belong to me," he murmured, his tone possessive. "And I will never let you go." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, a tantalizing tease before he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. It was fierce and possessive, filled with a raw hunger that took your breath away.

Your hands pushed against his chest, but he was immovable, his strength overwhelming. You could feel the cool metal of the knife's blade as he pressed it lightly against your neck, the threat clear even as he deepened the kiss. The contrast between the cold steel and the heat of his mouth was dizzying, a heady mix of danger and desire.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Aemond looked at you with a satisfaction that made your blood boil. "We will be married in a fortnight," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And you will be mine in every way."

You glared at him, anger and fear warring within you. "I will never be yours," you vowed, though even as you said the words, you knew they rang hollow. Aemond's gaze softened for a moment, and he cupped your cheek with surprising tenderness.

"You already are," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lips. "You just don't realize it yet."

He stepped back, leaving you against the wall, the knife still in his hand. With a final, intense look, he turned and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him. You slid to the floor, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your heart racing.

The weight of his words settled over you, a dark promise of what was to come. As you touched your lips, still tingling from his kiss, you felt the enormity of the situation crash down on you. Aemond Targaryen was a man who took what he wanted, and he had decided that you were his. No matter how much you resisted, he was determined to make you his in every way.

And as much as you hated to admit it, a part of you was drawn to him, to the dark, magnetic pull of his obsession. You were trapped, both physically and emotionally, caught in the web of his dangerous love. As you stared at the locked door, a single thought echoed in your mind:

How could you escape from someone who was willing to burn the world to keep you?

[glossysoap]

Gaz dosent know what he likes to see more in your pussy. His cock, his fingers, his tongue or your favorite vibrator 🫠

bloody shame ; kyle garrick

warnings/tags: 18+, fem american reader, smut smut smut, best friends to lovers, obsessive best friend gaz, squirting, overstimulation. italics = fantasies.

word count: 3.2k

Kyle’s palms stung as his calloused skin rubbed against the metal pull-up bar. He huffed as he pulled himself up, holding himself up for a few moments before slowly lowering himself down.

Pull up, hold, lower down. Up and down. Up and down. Again and again, working his way through his long set of pull-ups. Once he hit his last pull-up, he let himself land on his feet with a gentle thud.

He was walking over to the bench press station when he heard the doors to the gym push open. He looked at the reflection on the mirrored walls in front of him to see you and Soap walk in, both dressed in standard training gear.

His chocolate brown eyes automatically trailed up and down your figure, drinking in every detail and feature. He loved how that compression shirt perfectly hugged your curves and accentuated your breasts, all while showing off your muscles. He loved how your leggings hugged your waist and how the fabric smoothed over your legs like butter.

All Gaz could think of when he saw you wearing those leggings that hugged you perfectly, is how he wanted to grab you by your hips and bend you over. He wanted to hear your little shocked yelp as he pulls you against him, gripping you by your plump curves. He could imagine your eyes widen just a fraction as you look back at him, your eyes peering up at him through your lashes. He wanted to yank your leggings down your waist, revealing your white thong and your soft skin that he ached to grab and squeeze. He wanted to palm your soft flesh with his calloused hands, before bringing his hand down in a spank, letting the skin become sore under his touch.

He wanted to grind himself up against your clothed cunt, feeling you all warm up against his dick. He wanted to pull your panties to the side, ridding you of that flimsy fabric and revealing your already soaked pussy. He wanted to let the head of his cock graze your lips, teasing you with the smallest bit of contact. He could just imagine you whine and wiggle back against his cock, begging for more.

“So desperate, doll. Love seein’ you like this, all wet for me.”

“Please, Gaz,” He could imagine you whining, looking back at him. “Please touch me.”

He was brought out of his fantasies by Soap’s incredulous voice hitting his ears.

“So yer’ tellin’ me, it’s common in the states for ladies to fake it?” He overheard Soap ask, his Scottish voice filtering through Gaz’s headphones that had paused after a song.

Gaz’s brows furrowed as he picked up a dumbbell in each hand, ears perked up as he unintentionally eavesdropped on your conversation with Soap.

What in the hell.

He watched as you failed to stifle a laugh, hinting at your own surprise at the subject. Or at least, your surprise at Soap’s nonchalance on the matter.

“Past the TMI stage, are we?” You joke.

Kyle started lifting the dumbbells, alternating between arms and grunting with each lift up. He couldn’t help but look at the two of you through the mirrors reflection in front of him, curious as to where the conversation was going.

How the hell did the two of you get to that topic?

He watched as Soap brought his thermos up to his mouth, taking a swig of water and you standing next to him, sanitizing the machine you were about to use.

Kyle saw you laugh a bit, almost humorlessly, as you looked up at Soap through your lashes.

“You have no idea.” You shoot back with a roll of your eyes, moving to sit on the machine.

At the tone of your voice, Kyle made a noise of indignation deep in his throat. You sounded way too familiar with the subject of faking an orgasm.

“Speaking from experience, aye?” He heard Soap quip, only half serious as he didn’t expect you to take the bait.

No, you couldn’t have possibly faked your—

“Again, you have no idea.”

Gaz’s eyes widened.

No way. Kyle’s arms falter from pure surprise as he lifts the weights.

He saw Soap cough on his water, just as taken aback as Gaz was by your insinuation.

“What, don’t tell me you’ve had to fake it?” Johnny asks.

Gaz’s brown eyes dart right back to you.

“Okay, I won’t tell you that.” You have a sarcastic quip, uncapping your thermos.

No fucking way.

(….)

That’s how you ended up here.

In Gaz’s quarters, in his bed.

With your knees pushed up against your chest and his cock buried inside your cunt. Your head thrown back against his pillows and his face buried in your neck, mouth already marking you up.

“Fuck,” He grunts against your skin, leaving wet open mouthed kisses as he spoke. The sound of his hips slapping against your skin mixed with the sound of your moans.

He couldn’t help himself as he drank in your squirming form trapped beneath him, all sweaty and on display for him. He commits every detail to memory. Every mark and scar and curve that decorated your body, every inch that he had been so desperate to see for so long. Now, he was finally seeing it. And he couldn’t get enough.

He couldn’t get enough of how your brows knit together and your eyes scrunched shut because you were so overtaken by the raw pleasure. When your mouth wasn’t hanging open and letting whines fall out, you were biting your bottom lip in an effort to muffle your noises of desperation.

When he notices you trying to silence yourself, he angles his hips to hit that spot just right and brings one hand down to rub at your swollen clit. That’s a fool proof way to get you choking on a sharp cry of pleasure.

He couldn’t get enough of your breasts bouncing with every thrust, your nipples just aching to be sucked on and tweaked.

He couldn’t get enough of how your legs spasm and twitch as he thrusts into you, your muscles unable to control themselves as they contract. No matter how much you squirm though, he just holds your legs steady — with a firm grip right in the crook of your knees. His soft yet calloused hands squeezing the supple flesh of your leg, his thumbs tracing small circles on your skin.

He couldn’t get enough of how fucking wet you were, how wet noises filled the room while he rutted into you. He couldn’t get enough of how you were squeezing him so fucking tight, so fucking warm.

He just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Oh my god,” You moan, feeling that knot in your stomach wind tighter and tighter with every thrust of his hips. You couldn’t fucking believe it. Not even a full round into it with your best friend, your Gaz, and you were already closer to the edge than you ever were with any of your exes.

Even using a toy didn’t feel this good.

“Can’t believe you didn’t come to me for help.” Gaz mutters into your ear, angling his hips at a new, cruel angle. One that had you choking on air, your hands working to clutch him impossibly closer as his breath fanned hot against your skin.

“Gaz, fuck—,” Your cries of pleasure would be cut off by a moan as his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue lapping across the sensitive bud and moaning around it, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure.

“Bet that feels good, huh? Better than any of those other blokes you fooled around with? Yeah, that’s right.”

Moans and whines echoed throughout his room as his hips thrust inside your warmth, your face contorted in pleasure and your hands clutching at his broad back to ground you in reality. Your nails dug into his skin, dragging and leaving stripes across his back.

“You know where I am, doll. Coulda fixed this problem a long time ago.” He all but growled into your ear, feeling you squeeze around him so fucking warm and tight and perfect.

“Hm? Why didn’t you just come to me? Why didn’t you get your best friend to help you?” He asks, as if he wasn’t forcing an orgasm out of you right now. As if you could respond in any capacity.

He glances over at your blissed out face and his lips break out into a smirk.

“Please, please,” you whine, not even knowing what you were begging for.

“Oh, yeah? Feels that good, huh?” He croons in your ear, his pace never slowing as he thrusts inside your soaking pussy. Brown eyes burning into your face as moans poured from your lips and tears streaked down your cheeks. “Poor baby. Can’t even fuckin’ talk.”

Every second he was buried in your cunt and filling you so deep inside, you felt yourself grow closer to the edge. Your toes curled and your legs twitched as they were pushed up against your chest.

“But I asked you a question, love. And I expect an answer. Why didn’t you come to me?” Gaz grounds out, punctuating each word of his question with a hard thrust. Soaking up every whimper and whine and moan you let out.

When you still didn’t give him a sufficient answer, besides your mindless babbling, Kyle grips your jaw and forces you to look at him. Your eyes shoot open, all wide and glossy as you have no choice but to hold his gaze while he fucks you. “Hmm?” His eyes boring into yours, savoring your teary eyed fucked out expression as you willed yourself to form a coherent response.

“I didn’t— fuck,” You cut yourself off with a moan, “I didn’t think that was an option. I didn’t think you liked me—”

Your explanation was cut off by him closing the short distance between you and crashing his lips down to yours. Your eyes widened but you quickly melted into him as the head of his cock kept hitting that spot that made your toes curl. He swallowed any moans and whines as he forced his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you so wholly and completely. The kiss was messy and passionate, full of unspoken feelings and building tension that had finally come to a breaking point.

With each whine and moan that Gaz pulled from you, he smirked against your lips. Those noises only pushed him to make you cum even faster.

“You have no. Fuckin’. Idea.” He all but growls against your mouth, nipping your lip as his hips thrust cruelly with every emphasized word. “No fuckin’ clue how much I like you. How much I love you.” Your brows knit together at his muttered words, so taken aback by his confession that you were half convinced you had imagined it. That you had conjured it up amongst the fog that filled your head.

“But I’ll make sure you know.” Was all he murmured against your lips, eyes flitting open to drink you in. He sneaks the hand that was holding your jaw, all the way down your stomach and between your legs. His fingers quickly find their place on the swollen bundle of nerves that was your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud furiously as he kept thrusting. He could feel the itch of his curls brush up against his hand and your juices drenching the hair and creating a seal around the base of his cock.

He found himself rushing toward his own orgasm right as yours crashed over you, letting out a guttural curse as he came inside you, his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm cunt. He watched your face contort in even deeper pleasure as you felt his warmth flood your pussy, mixing with your own juices.

It didn’t take long at all for you to cry out into Kyle’s mouth, feeling him grin against your lips. He pushes past his own sensitivity and grinds hard into your cunt, his fingers still rubbing your clit as you squirt all over his cock, squeezing him for all he was worth.

“There you go. Just like that.”

(….)

He was far from finished at showing you how much pleasure you’ve been missing out on.

Only a mere few minutes had passed since you came around his cock before he had moved down your body and found his home between your legs once more.

Your heart was pounding as you came down from your high, your chest heaving and your eyelids weighing heavy. Your mind was fuzzy and clouded, and your cunt was throbbing and pulsing.

Your legs were shaking, feeling so sensitive and boneless — so when you felt his gentle hands prying your thighs apart, your legs jolted. Your breath hitched and your eyes shot open to see Gaz’s head buried between your slick covered thighs.

You could already feel his breath fanning your sensitive pussy. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

As soon as you felt his hands grab your hips and pull you down his bed, you scrambled to get away from his mouth. Your cunt was still throbbing and your legs were still weak, making it almost pointless to squirm away from his touch. Your legs that felt like jelly were no match for his strong grip, his arms full with corded muscle built from years of training.

“Kyle,” You whine, eyes glossy as you look down at him, “ ‘M so sensitive.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges as he grins, looking up at you from between your legs. His arms snake around your thighs, keeping you anchored for him and leaving your cunt on display.

Just how he likes it.

He looks up at you through his lashes while he bites at your thigh, savoring the gasp that falls from your lips. Then he sucks that bit of soft, warm skin into his mouth, forming a suction in favor of a future hickey.

“Oh, I know, baby.” He croons, voice sickly sweet, brown eyes peering up at you as he hikes your legs over his shoulders. You yelp as he pulls you impossibly close to his waiting mouth. Your hands find purchase in the sheets below you, fisting the fabric in an effort to ground you in reality.

“But you’ve never had anyone eat this pussy like you deserve, huh? I just know you haven’t.” He lowers his face down to your dripping cunt, the juices of your cum mixing with his. “Such a shame, doll. Bloody shame… for this pretty pussy to go neglected. To not be absolutely worshipped.” He traces your slippery folds with two gentle fingers, spreading your juices up and down your slit, before using those fingers to part your folds and revealing your cunt all spread out and ready for him. You gasp with every touch and trace of his delicate fingers.

“So that’s what I’m gonna do. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” Is all he said before diving into your soaked pussy.

He was messy and unabashed, with no care for how loud he was as he tasted every inch of you. He took his sweet fucking time devouring you, kissing along your folds and licking wet stripes along your slit.

“Gaz, oh my god-,” You cry out, throwing your head back against his pillow. Your hips jerking and bucking up against his mouth involuntarily.

He smiles against your cunt as he hears you moan and cry over and over, writhing in his hold from how sensitive you were. He licks a wide stripe up and down your pussy, savoring your juices and cum as if it were his last meal.

“Fuck, you taste so fuckin’ perfect.” He groaned into your cunt, his voice sending vibrations into your core and making you moan even louder.

He didn’t leave his fingers out, though.

The entire time his tongue was licking up your juices, his fingers were playing with your pussy. Starting out slow, dipping those same two fingers inside and letting the pads of his fingers gather your juices. Pushing them in and feeling around your velvet walls, feeling you squeeze around his fingers so damn tight — as if his cock wasn’t buried in your cunt only a few minutes prior.

“So fucking tight. Almost pushing’ me out, love.” He groans into your pussy, before finally dipping his tongue into your entrance.

“Kyle, fuck-,” You cry out, feeling him tongue fuck you while he pumped his fingers in your slippery cunt. Your hips bucked and twitched, making him grip your hips even tighter, grounding you against his face.

His fingers quickened as he heard your moans grow high pitched, knowing you were growing closer and closer with every passing moment.

“Mmm-hmm, that’s it.” He moans into your cunt, delving his tongue even deeper. He curled his tongue and hummed into your heat, almost even growling.

He curled his fingers inside you, enjoying the way you squirmed and jolted from all the sensations. Your legs wriggled on his shoulders, moving on their own accord as his mouth kept working in tandem with his fingers.

“Please, please, please!” You babbled mindlessly, tears stinging at your eyes and your lips sore from being bitten between your teeth too many times.

He smirked against your cunt, one last tactic popping in his head to push you over the edge.

All while pumping and curling his fingers, he used his free hand to reach into his nightstand drawer. He felt silicone beneath his fingertips before swiftly pulling it out, revealing a sleek vibrator. It was small, only about three inches long and matte black.

He clicked the toy on and felt it vibrate it in his hand, excitement flooding his veins as he imagined you jumping from the sudden vibration against your cunt.

With one more glance up at your fucked out face, he pressed the vibrating toy against your throbbing clit.

“Kyle, oh fuck!” You all but screamed, utterly overwhelmed by the mix of sensations. You were drowning in pleasure and ecstasy as his tongue lapped at your wetness and dipped into your cunt, while his fingers pumped into you at a furious pace. To top it all off, an intense wave of vibrations suddenly washed over you.

You didn’t know where the hell it came from, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not when you couldn’t even feel your face. Not when you couldn’t even tell which way was up and which way was down.

Not when your best friend was busy making you cum over and over. Not when your best friend was making you feel better than any other man ever could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You wail, feeling that knot burst deep in your stomach as you squeeze tight, pulsing over and over. You squirt all over his fingers and tongue, absolutely drenching his chin and his palm in your juices. Your slick coated the vibrator as he held it against your cunt.

“There you go.” He purred, fingers working you through your orgasm.

“Bet you wish you would have come to me sooner, doll.”

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

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[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat Chapter 11: the trap snaps shut

masterpost

Five vans peeled into view, rocketing around the curved road fast enough that they visibly tilted through the turn. They all bristled with weaponry.

Cass felt her lips press into a faint line. She glanced at Dannybaby: scared. I knew it. Here they are.

They didn’t have to talk about it. The three adults stepped out and put their backs to ring Danny, facing outwards to the threat.

“Shoot the racks,” she commanded. The mounted weapons. She didn’t like that. She pulled out a batarang herself and squinted to find her aim. The construction? Sloppy. Exposed wires. Weakness.

A gun cocked. “Aye aye, captain.” Jason hefted a gun in each hand and started shooting as the vans screeched to a stop in a circle around them. Bang! Sparks flew where he hit. Cass and Dickiebird did the same with quieter precision, slicing wires and leaving projectiles sticking into the metal monstrosities. Electricity sparked. Just in time: machines whined as they were powered on. One gave out with a huge bang!  The van attached to it jolted as the machine punched a huge dent into the roof. White smoke floated away, clouding the nighttime scene with a chemical stink.

“Whoa,” Danny breathed.

She felt a twinge of satisfaction.

Jason hit the last set-up with a bang! Bang! Then his foot scuffed across the pavement to knock against Danny’s. Check, you’re here, you’re safe, you’re little.

“They’ll come out!” Danny warned.

He was right. Doors clicked unlocked all around them and men in white suits piled out, futuristic looking guns aimed at the little group. 

She felt a twinge of disbelief. “Can’t shoot,” Cass said. No way. So dumb. They were in a circle. Friendly fire, new concept to losers??

They shot. She hit the ground in a roll and trusted that everyone else would. They did. She turned her head to see that one agent was down from friendly fire. There was no blood as he was lifted off his feet and blasted backwards against the van he came out of.

“Ghost scum!” howled one of the suits.

“We knew it!” 

The victory in their voices set her blood boiling. Cass launched herself to the closest opponent and took him down with a nasty hit. She whirled on the next one, two mean hits. Go, go, clear the area! She heard feet scuffling and weapons whining as they fired, fired, fired on the boys.

She took number 4 down as the smoke was starting to clear. She heard a pained oof from the center, where Jason and Dickiebird were blocking Danny.

“Jason!” Danny said. He sounded very young. “Oh, shit.” Cass cast a frantic glance over at his posture and sucked in a breath even as she bulleted towards the next opponent. Determined. I have to do this. Here we go! 

No, no!

Jason was down. Dickiebird was darting between Jason and the man actively firing. Danny was pale. He opened his mouth. He put his palms out. He flashbanged. 

She blinked away stars and slammed a man’s head into a van before he could aim at her. Slam, slam, drop. She stole another glance. Danny was- Danny had white hair now and he was flashing green light at their enemies. Hm. She couldn’t afford to watch. Cass bared her teeth, angry. 

Air sizzled: GIW firing wildly. Guns fired: Jason was still conscious. Danny yelped: what? 

Cass didn’t dare look more. She moved faster than Batman could ever, brutally taking down these criminals with disdainful ease. They had nothing but numbers and lasers. 

Green shot past her vision. She traced it back: Danny! Her eyes went wide. Wow. He had some kind of organic blast, like Starfire. Very useful! 

 It wasn’t enough. Danny screamed. She heard him hit the ground. Sizzling.

She howled, wordless with fury. She tackled the next agent and cracked his head against the pavement. Only two more. She flung a batarang down the barrel aimed at her and then yanked the weapon away to brutally jab the air out of the agent’s diaphragm. Cass tossed it at him as he fell. Solid thunk. It hit his head.

The last man tried to say something, white teeth flashing in the gloom. Her ears were closed to it. The only language she spoke right now was violence. She used it to get him down and wrench him into zip ties. She could hear Dickiebird talking his soothing sounds at Danny baby. Cass wanted to go there. Cass wanted to soothe him. She wanted to see his hurts. 

But she had to secure the area. She rushed around to the groaning and crying men she had put down. She immobilized them. The foolish ones tried to get up as she approached. The smart one (and there was only one) held his hands out, eyes wide in the night. He talked at her. Beseeching, reasoning, she just doesn’t understand. You’re like me. Not like them.

Cass snarled. She understood just fine. She pressed his face into the ground harshly, fingers digging into his jaw. “Shut up,” she gritted out. She left him with effort, ignoring the mean impulse to smack him. 

All the boys were on the ground. There was no blood. Eyes open. Not dead.

Something in her gun unclenched.

Dickiebird looked up at her from where he was supporting Jason, sitting halfway with a grimace as he holstered his guns. Hands shaking. “He’ll be fine!” Danny pressed his body against Jason like he was trying to absorb his body heat. His hair was black again and his eyes looked tired. “He, uh, it’s shock,” Dannybaby babbled. She knelt to rub at his back, silently encouraging the explanation. “They basically zapped his ecto, stopped circulation. It should start up again in a few minutes and he’ll feel fine.”

“Get off,” Jason grunted. He shoved at Dickiebird. Weak. “I feel fine.”

Lie.

“I feel drained,” he admitted. “But fine. Just weak. I can stand.” He struggled to stand, biting his lip. He swayed only slightly. “Man,” he cursed under his breath. Jason cast an unhappy look at the 14 agents groaning on the ground, on their bellies like the worms they were with hands ziptied at their backs. “Not my best showing.”

“Next time, you could dodge,” Dickiebird suggested lightly. 

“You’re lucky it got him and not you,” Danny snapped. “Didn’t you see that guy go flying?”

Tense. Dickiebird paused. Smile. Soothe. “I’m only teasing,” he said. “It’s fine, Danny.”

“None of this is fine!” Cass swiveled her head to make sweltering eye contact with the scumbag who was cutting in. He was bold, for someone with his cheek digging into the rocks and cement. “By the authority of the US Government, you are required to submit these ecto-entities for testing and capture into our custody. Release us, or face dire consequences!”

Cass looked at him. She felt hate. Disdain. You’re nothing, you’re a worm to me. 

“They’re telling the truth,” Danny whispered. “It’s, uh, it’s legal.” He looked haunted. He rubbed at his chest: some memory of sharp pain.

Dickiebird snorted and slung an arm over Danny’s narrow shoulders. “Maybe by US laws, but Oa has jurisdiction that supersedes. This was a clear case of assault.” He gave an unpleasant smile. Big brother. Big angry. Guard dog at the door. “I’ll make a call.” 

The next minutes felt very long. Cass pressed Danny’s face into her shoulder so that he didn’t have to make eye contact with the fallen agents. She stroked his hair with her free hand, boiling inside with fury. 

Dickiebird called. A Green Lantern answered: coming.

They waited. Jason said he felt better. His body said: mostly better. But strange. They ignored the threats and complaints from the GIW men on the ground.

Hal Jordan came, with one more Green Lantern that Cass didn’t know. He gathered up prisoners in a green veil. He talked with Dickiebird. He nodded, and left.

“I wanna go home,” Danny said quietly. “But I think that we need to get Jason to my doctor. He’s really not right. It’s… It might be time sensitive.”