#''Now THAT is some blue collar climbing''

[willygood]

.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

have you seen the video of the firefighter ice bath challenge where the firefighter sat in the ice bath with the lady and held her for how long they were in there. Can you write one where it’s Carlos x Y/N and they’re both drivers. Y/N has to do an ice bath, but she HATES being cold, so Carlos climbs in behind her and hugs her to his body and comforts her for however long they’re in there!?

Chilly Chilli || CS55

Singapore was hot. The heat you could handle but it was the humidity that was killing you. You would take another shower but the second you hopped out you began to sweat again. It was an unending cycle.

“She needs to lower her core temperature, but she’s refusing to get in the ice bath.”

You narrowed your eyes at your personal trainer as he snitched to Carlos. Your boyfriend immediately turned his whole focus on you, still sweating in your fireproofs after free practice ended. The look of disapproval had you shifting on your feet and you pointed angrily at the bath. “It’s fucking cold.”

“That’s the point, cariño,” Carlos chuckled, grabbing the zip at his collar and dragging it down his body. “Stop being stubborn.”

You watched with intrigue as he stripped down to his underwear and reached for your zip next. The blue William’s suit landed on his red Ferrari one before he stepped into the icy water and you noticed your PT had at some point discreetly left the room.

You bit your lip at the sharp intake of air he took and watched him swallow deeply as he sunk into the ice before opening his arms. “Come on, amor, it’s not so bad.”

It was inevitable that you would end up in the cold water but it didn’t seem as bad a fate to accept when you would be able to have Carlos’ arms wrapped around you. It didn’t stop your body reacting with wracking shivers and chattering teeth when you eventually stepped in between his legs and plunged neck deep with him.

“Fuck!” you hissed as your breath froze in your lungs and your ribs failed to expand for a few heartbeats. “I’d rather sweat.”

“We can do that later,” he teased in your ear as he settled you onto his lap and encompassed you in a tight hug, “if you behave now.”

You squirmed to get as close as possible to his warmth in the frigid water and tipped your head back to his shoulder. Looking up under your lashes you distracted yourself from the cold with his handsome features and couldn’t help but ask, “Behave good, or behave bad?”

“Cariño,” he groaned as you wriggled more. “As much as I want you, this is still an ice bath.”

Your brows punched together before you saw the pained look on his face and realised what he meant. “Oh,” you giggled, reaching between your bodies to confirm your thought was correct. “It’s really cold, huh? If only I knew some place warm and wet.”

“Your mind is filthy, amor,” he hummed as his fingers slipped over your body and between your legs. “I love it.”

[system-to-the-madness]

The Traitor - Zuko x Reader

Word Count: 3 089 Warnings: mentions of torture, war, injuries, betrayl Summary: When Zuko attempts to break out the Avatar from Zhao’s prison, he is forced to bring someone else along as well A/N: Can be read as a oneshot; Part One of the series Perfect (10 times Zuko thought you were perfect and the first time he told you)

“We are the sons and daughters of fire, the superior element! Until today only one thing stood in our path to victory, the Avatar. I am here to tell you that he is now my prisoner!”

Admiral Zhao’s voice was booming over the crowd before him, and as tempted as Zuko was to roll his eyes underneath the blue mask he was wearing, he held back, rather focusing on sneaking past the guards.

He had one chance, this chance, to steal the Avatar right from underneath Zhao’s nose, and keep that boy as a prisoner himself. Then all he would have to do was make his way back to the Fire Nation, and present the Avatar to his father, and he would have restored his honour. Everything would be the way it was supposed to be. He by his father’s side, the Avatar in the deepest, securest cell the Fire Nation had to offer, and soon the world under the Fire Lord’s command.

His steps were quick, and almost inaudible, as he ran along the high walls, climbed down a rope and crossed a yard. Even when he had lifted aside the lid to the sewage, and jumped down into the underground tunnels, the water around his boots barely made a sound as if it was siding with him. He had to be quick, quiet and leave no trace. He had to be like a ghost.

The first guard that crossed his way was taken out faster than the poor guy was able to comprehend. The second guard, alarmed by the helmet Zuko had kicked out from behind a corner, followed suit as he tied him up and bound him, so he was hanging from the ceiling. As two more guards came to check, what the commotion was about, he attacked them from where he had hidden between some pipes on the ceiling. The last guard was taken out by a bucket full of water.

A moment later, he was able to slip into the cell, in which the Avatar was held. Pathetic, really, Zuko thought to himself. All this trouble just for a small boy dressed in oranges and yellows. Had that child really been able to put him through so much trouble? Swiftly he pulled his swords, ignoring the fearful screams of the Avatar at the action, and severed the chains holding him up. Surprised brown eyes looked up at him, as the Avatar was rubbing his uninjured wrists. Two more swings with his swords and the shackles around the boy’s wrists and ankles fell to the floor uselessly.

“Who are you?” The Avatar’s voice sounded so young, Zuko thought to himself, already turning to make his way out of the cell again. There was no time to lose; they had to leave immediately. “What’s going on? Are you here to rescue us?”

Instead of answering, Zuko simply pushed the door open and motioned for the Avatar to follow him.

“I'll take that as a yes."

Zuko quickly walked past the tied-up guards, when he heard the light footsteps of the boy catch up to him.

“We need to find my friend,” the Avatar said, urgency thick in his voice. “(Y/n) was captured along with me! I can’t leave without her- My frogs!”

The Avatar’s even footsteps halted, and when Zuko turned around, he found the boy kneeling on the floor, trying to catch some half-frozen frogs that desperately tried escaping his grabby hands.

“Come back! And stop thawing out!”

This time Zuko did not suppress the urge to roll his eyes, and instead walked back to the Avatar, grabbing him by the collar, and dragging him along.

“Wait! My friends need to suck on those frogs! And we need to find (y/n)! Hey, put me down!”

Zuko was hit by a gust of wind, knocking him forwards a step and making him drop the Avatar.

“I said: We need to find (y/n)!”

By all the spirits, this kid was annoying.

Zuko shot him a glance, as if to say ‘then where is she?’, and sure enough the Avatar turned and raced down another corridor, Zuko following him, while he tried to remember if he knew your name. He had run into the Avatar and his little team of run-aways before. There were the boy and the girl from the Water Tribe, and of course that Sky Bison. But there was another girl, too. Zuko had never paid any attention to her, and her clothes didn’t give away where she came from. Maybe the Earth Kingdom, or a remote region of the Fire Nation even.

Traitor.

If she was Fire Nation, why was she helping the Avatar? And if she was a traitor, why should he free her? It was only another risk, one that would put his whole mission in jeopardy. But he needed the Avatar to follow him out of the base without making a fuzz. And for that, apparently, he needed to free this girl. He would simply knock her out after they had made it past the walls. Then he’d grab the Avatar and he’d be back on track with his plan.

The Avatar led him to another block of cells, these unguarded, but behind every door, there was the groaning and complaining of hungry and beaten men. Behind every door except for one. While the Avatar had kept walking, Zuko stopped in front of the only door behind which it was quiet. Maybe the cell was empty, but his instincts told him differently. Getting on his tiptoes, he spied through the bars in the door into the cell, and sure enough he saw the small, curled-up form of a girl laying on the ground.

Not hesitating for a moment, he pulled his swords and hurled them against the locks keeping the door closed. The clash of metal against metal alarmed the Avatar, who came running back to his side, but by the time he reached the door, Zuko had already stepped into the cell.

You were slowly sitting up, clearly irritated at the sudden noise, and even in the twilight Zuko could make out the bruises on your face and arms. The soldiers had beaten you. Cowards, honourless cowards. You were no bender, you barely seemed to pose any threat as it was, otherwise he’d remember you better from his previous run-ins with the Avatar, but they still had beaten you.

“What-”

Before you could ask what was going on, or protest, he had grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you to your feet. From up close, he could tell you were about his age, maybe even a little younger, and if it hadn’t been for the bruises on your face, and the dirt crusting your hair, you would have even been beautiful.

Then he saw the emblem of the Fire Nation dangling on the thin leather necklace you wore, and any sense of attraction vanished as quickly as it had flickered to life. You were Fire Nation, and you betrayed your country by helping the Avatar. He should knock you out on the spot and let you rot in this stinking cell. Who cared what the guards did to you?

In that moment a strangled cry of joy sounded from behind him, and like a lightning of orange and yellow the Avatar shot past him, practically wrapping himself around you.

“I found you,” the Avatar yelped, quickly letting go of you when you began swaying under the sudden impact of your friend. “This nice, masked man here is saving us! He’s just not very talkative.”

You were clearly dazed, from pain, a lack of water or food, Zuko wasn’t sure. But still you made him squirm in his boots as you stood up as straight as possible and took in his appearance for a moment. You weren’t as tall as him, but something in your eyes made him realize that maybe you weren’t as harmless as he had believed.

“Nice, masked stranger, hm,” you questioned, your voice raspy, and you swayed again.

Damn traitor. Who did you think you were, judging him like this?

Ignoring the racing thoughts in his mind, Zuko turned back to the door, leaving the cell without another word.

“We need to go,” the Avatar told you, and behind him, Zuko could hear two sets of footsteps following him, the light steps of the Avatar and your heavier, almost shuffling steps. You really were in bad shape. He knew it had been a bad idea to go save you. You’d only slow them down.

Together you were creeping through the corridors, back into the canalization system. As Zuko climbed out, he didn’t look back to see whether you were following. He could only hope the Avatar had enough sense of self-preservation to leave you behind, should you not even be able to climb out of a shaft like this. But a moment later, as he was standing pressed against a wall, spying around the corner, you came to a halt next to him, followed by the Avatar. Your movements were still not as fluid as his own, but you seemed not as sluggish anymore as when he had found you in the cell. Maybe the movement and the fear that was doubtlessly cursing through your veins gave you the energy to keep going.

Zuko motioned to the wall, where he had left behind the rope which he had used to lower himself into the yard, and following on his heels, you and the Avatar ran after him towards it.

“(Y/n), go first,” the Avatar encouraged, making Zuko want to shake him. Didn’t he see? You were unimportant, a traitor at that, and the slowest of the group. If anything, you should go last, so it was easiest to leave you behind.

But before even a sound of protest was leaving Zuko’s lips, you had already grabbed the rope, and pulled yourself into the air with surprising speed, immediately followed by the Avatar. He wasn’t going to get rid of you so easily, was he?

You had made it almost half-way up the wall, when suddenly an alarm rang and just a moment later a guard appeared over the edge of the wall, cutting the rope. For a moment Zuko was in free fall, having just enough time to realise that a fall from this hight would mean a few broken bones at best, when a gust of wind caught him, you and the Avatar, before you fell the last inches to the ground.

Quickly looking around, trying not to let the sudden plummet towards the ground get into his head, Zuko pointed towards the still open gates, immediately taking off with you and the Avatar close on his heels.

“Stay close to me,” the Avatar instructed and overtook Zuko and you, continuing the sprint towards the gate that was slowly closing.

A group of soldiers who had tried blocking your way simply got blasted aside by the Avatar, and Zuko couldn’t help but shoot you a glance to see your reaction. But your eyes were only focused on the gate, following the Avatar, as if you had seen him blast people out of the way a hundred times. You probably had.

That was the moment two soldiers got Zuko from the side, and even the Avatar had to grab a weapon, swinging it around, using it to create air blasts. For a moment, and with a reasoning Zuko couldn’t even explain to himself, he searched for you, fully prepared to jump to your aid, should you need it.

Instead, he found you standing over the crumbled bodies of three guards, who were groaning on the ground. In your hands, you were holding two swords, and Zuko couldn’t help but freeze. A blast of air picked up your hair, gently playing around it, as you stood proudly over your defeated enemies. Nothing seemed to be left of the sluggishness from just a few minutes ago, when Zuko had pulled you to your feet in that cell. Now, you seemed to be on high alert, perfectly aware of what you were doing, and ready for a fight. There was a light glimmering in your eyes that made Zuko wonder how he hadn’t taken notice of you before; after all he had run into you several times already. But something about the way you stood now, both feet securely anchored to the ground, this spark of defiance and determination in your eyes, fingers closed around weapons you clearly knew how to handle… for a moment Zuko couldn’t help but think how perfect you looked. The thought disappeared as quickly as it had come to him. You were a traitor to the Fire Nation, despicable, cowardly, disloyal. Before he could continue the list of negative attributes he associated with you, he picked up on the group of soldiers that were moving in from the side: Fire Benders.

Quickly pushing himself between them and you, he began attacking them with his own flames, only noticing from the corner of his by the mask limited vision, that you had picked the fight back up again. He was right in the process of firing a blast at a couple of soldiers, when suddenly a wave of fire was rolling towards him. No, not towards him, towards his left side- where you stood. Reacting faster than he would have thought possible himself, he grabbed your arm, his fingers closing around your biceps underneath that flimsical shirt you had been made to dress into as a prisoner, and quickly he pulled you aside, using his other hand to send a quick interval of fire balls back towards the attackers.

The chocked cry that suddenly reached his ears made his heart freeze over and the short shaven hair in his neck stand up. Had he been too slow? Had you been hit by the blast anyway? When he swivelled around, the smell of burnt flesh reached his nose, making sour stomach acid burn in the back of his throat. Small flames were licking at the fabric of your shirt, and when he pulled his hand away as if he had been the one who had been burnt, a fresh burn wound in the shape of his hand was wrapped around your arm. He had been in the middle of a blast when he had reached for you, burning you while trying to save you from being hit by the fire of the soldiers.

Quickly he drew in the flames on your shirt, extinguishing them, but the damage to your skin was done. He had tried to save you and instead he had burnt you. What a laughable metaphor for his whole life. But still something inside his chest tightened up, wound so tight he wasn’t sure it would ever come undone again. He shouldn’t care, he told himself as his eyes flickered to your pain distorted face. You were a traitor, a means to an end, you would be left behind the moment he and the Avatar had made it past the walls.

But still- he couldn’t help but wonder how you held yourself together. Burn-wounds were some of the most painful wounds there were, he knew that, and yours wasn’t exactly small. Still, no more sound slipped over your lips, and even though you had dropped the sword in your left hand, you were ready to keep fighting with the sword in your right.

But before it came to that, your attackers were blast away by an air current, and the Avatar came running.

“(Y/n), are you hurt,” he asked, his voice filled with worry. Envy spread in Zuko’s stomach. Nobody ever worried about him like that.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, quickly covering up your wound, hiding it from the Avatar.

But now your luck had finally run out, it seemed. You were with your backs to the closed gate, Zuko and you the last barrier between the approaching soldiers and the Avatar.

“Hold your fire!” The voice belonged to Zhao, who came stepping past the Fire Benders, that were ready for the final attack. “The Avatar must be captured alive!”

Quickly assessing the situation, Zuko grabbed the Avatar, pulling the boy so his back was to Zuko’s front, the blade of one of his swords dangerously close to cutting into the thin skin of this neck. At his side, he could tell you were moving to attack him, no hesitation in your movements when you realized he was threatening your friend’s life, but before you had even fully pointed your sword at him, Zuko had dropped one of his own, and held his open palm right into your face. One wrong move on your end, and he could blast your head away in a ball of flame. He wouldn’t, but you didn’t know that.

It seemed like the wordless demand Zuko was uttering as he stared over to Zhao was understood, because after a moment of internal debating, the Admiral pressed out: “Open the gate.”

Behind them, the gate opened, heavy metal running against the earthy ground, and Zuko dragged the Avatar backwards, motioning you to come with them. The expression on your face was one of pure disgust and hatred as you stared at the mask that was covering his face, but followed his instruction. Why was he even taking you along? He could just leave you behind now, then he wouldn’t have to deal with you later. But then again, the Admiral would start getting suspicious if he only took the Avatar and not also his friend. It would make it too obvious that he was after the Avatar. If he also took you, it would seem like one of your allies had come to your rescue. So, all in all, it would be better to take both of you.

At least that was what Zuko told himself as he was guiding the Avatar backwards, away from the slowly closing gate. You were watching each of his movements, as if you were looking for an opening to attack him. He had already hurt you; you knew what his flames were capable of, and still you were ready to take him on in a fight, just to defend your friend. It seemed as if while you were a traitor, perhaps you were not a coward after all.

That was his last proper thought before something silver shot through the night, and hit him in the head, knocking him out on the spot.

Next Chapter (04. Oct. 2024) | Masterlist

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Prison-tech is a scam - and a harbinger of your future

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

Here's how the shitty technology adoption curve works: when you want to roll out a new, abusive technology, look for a group of vulnerable people whose complaints are roundly ignored and subject them to your bad idea. Sand the rough edges off on their bodies and lives. Normalize the technological abuse you seek to inflict.

Next: work your way up the privilege gradient. Maybe you start with prisoners, then work your way up to asylum seekers, parolees and mental patients. Then try it on kids and gig workers. Now, college students and blue collar workers. Climb that curve, bit by bit, until you've reached its apex and everyone is living with your shitty technology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Prisoners, asylum seekers, drug addicts and other marginalized people are the involuntary early adopters of every form of disciplinary technology. They are the leading indicators of the ways that technology will be ruining your life in the future. They are the harbingers of all our technological doom.

Which brings me to Minnesota.

Minnesota is one of the first states make prison phone-calls free. This is a big deal, because prison phone-calls are a big business. Prisoners are literally a captive audience, and the telecommunications sector is populated by sociopaths, bred and trained to spot and exploit abusive monopoly opportunities. As states across America locked up more and more people for longer and longer terms, the cost of operating prisons skyrocketed, even as states slashed taxes on the rich and turned a blind eye to tax evasion.

This presented telco predators with an unbeatable opportunity: they approached state prison operators and offered them a bargain: "Let us take over the telephone service to your carceral facility and we will levy eye-watering per-minute charges on the most desperate people in the world. Their families – struggling with one breadwinner behind bars – will find the money to pay this ransom, and we'll split the profits with you, the cash-strapped, incarceration-happy state government."

This was the opening salvo, and it turned into a fantastic little money-spinner. Prison telco companies and state prison operators were the public-private partnership from hell. Prison-tech companies openly funneled money to state coffers in the form of kickbacks, even as they secretly bribed prison officials to let them gouge their inmates and inmates' families:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/02/mississippi-corrections-corruption-bribery-private-prison-hustle/

As digital technology got cheaper and prison-tech companies got greedier, the low end of the shitty tech adoption curve got a lot more crowded. Prison-tech companies started handing out "free" cheap Android tablets to prisoners, laying the groundwork for the next phase of the scam. Once prisoners had tablets, prisons could get rid of phones altogether and charge prisoners – and their families – even higher rates to place calls right to the prisoner's cell.

Then, prisons could end in-person visits and replace them with sub-skype, postage-stamp-sized videoconferencing, at rates even higher than the voice-call rates. Combine that with a ban on mailing letters to and from prisoners – replaced with a service that charged even higher rates to scan mail sent to prisoners, and then charged prisoners to download the scans – and prison-tech companies could claim to be at the vanguard of prison safety, ending the smuggling of dope-impregnated letters and other contraband into the prison system.

Prison-tech invented some wild shit, like the "digital stamp," a mainstay of industry giant Jpay, which requires prisoners to pay for "stamps" to send or receive a "page" of email. If you're keeping score, you've realized that this is a system where prisoners and their families have to pay for calls, "in-person" visits, handwritten letters, and email.

It goes on: prisons shuttered their libraries and replaced them with ebook stores that charged 2-4 times the prices you'd pay for books on the outside. Prisoners were sold digital music at 200-300% markups relative to, say, iTunes.

Remember, these are prisoners: locked up for years or decades, decades during which their families scraped by with a breadwinner behind bars. Prisoners can earn money, sure – as much as $0.89/hour, doing forced labor for companies that contract with prisons for their workforce:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2017/04/10/wages/

Of course, there's the odd chance for prisoners to make really big bucks – $2-5/day. All they have to do is "volunteer" to fight raging wildfires:

https://www.hcn.org/articles/climate-desk-wildfire-california-incarcerated-firefighters-face-dangerous-work-low-pay-and-covid19/

So those $3 digital music tracks are being bought by people earning as little as $0.10/hour. Which makes it especially galling when prisons change prison-tech suppliers, whereupon all that digital music is deleted, wiping prisoners' media collection out – forever (literally, for prisoners serving life terms):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/08/captive-audience-how-floridas-prisons-and-drm-made-113m-worth-prisoners-music

Let's recap: America goes on a prison rampage, locking up ever-larger numbers of people for ever-longer sentences. Once inside, prisoners had their access to friends and family rationed, along with access to books, music, education and communities outside. This is very bad for prisoners – strong ties to people outside is closely tied to successful reentry – but it's great for state budgets, and for wardens, thanks to kickbacks:

https://www.prisonpolicy.org/blog/2021/12/21/family_contact/

Back to Minnesota: when Minnesota became the fourth state in the USA where the state, not prisoners, would pay for prison calls, it seemed like they were finally breaking the vicious cycle in which every dollar ripped off of prisoners' family paid 40 cents to the state treasury:

https://www.kaaltv.com/news/no-cost-phone-calls-for-those-incarcerated-in-minnesota/

But – as Katya Schwenk writes for The Lever – what happened next is "a case study in how prison communication companies and their private equity owners have managed to preserve their symbiotic relationship with state corrections agencies despite reforms — at the major expense of incarcerated people and their families":

https://www.levernews.com/wall-streets-new-prison-scam/

Immediately after the state ended the ransoming of prisoners' phone calls, the private-equity backed prison-tech companies that had dug their mouth-parts into the state's prison jacked up the price of all their other digital services. For example, the price of a digital song in a Minnesota prison just jumped from $1.99 to $2.36 (for prisoners earning as little as $0.25/hour).

As Paul Wright from the Human Rights Defense Center told Schwenk, "The ideal world for the private equity owners of these companies is every prisoner has one of their tablets, and every one of those tablets is hooked up to the bank account of someone outside of prison that they can just drain."

The state's new prison-tech supplier promises to double the amount of kickbacks it pays the state each year, thanks to an aggressive expansion into games, money transfers, and other "services." The perverse incentive isn't hard to spot: the more these prison-tech companies charge, the more kickbacks they pay to the prisons.

The primary prison-tech company for Minnesota's prisons is Viapath (nee Global Tel Link), which pioneered price-gouging on in-prison phone calls. Viapath has spent the past two decades being bought and sold by different private equity firms: Goldman Sachs, Veritas Capital, and now the $46b/year American Securities.

Viapath competes with another private equity-backed prison-tech giant: Aventiv (Securus, Jpay), owned by Platinum Equity. Together, Viapath and Aventiv control 90% of the prison-tech market. These companies have a rap-sheet as long as your arm: bribing wardens, stealing from prisoners and their families, and recording prisoner-attorney calls. But these are the kinds of crimes the state punishes with fines and settlements – not by terminating its contracts with these predators.

These companies continue to flout the law. Minnesota's new free-calls system bans prison-tech companies from paying kickbacks to prisons and prison-officials for telcoms services, so the prison-tech companies have rebranded ebooks, music, and money-transfers as non-communications products, and the kickbacks are bigger than ever.

This is the bottom end of the shitty technology adoption curve. Long before Ubisoft started deleting games that you'd bought a "perpetual license" for, prisoners were having their media ganked by an uncaring corporation that knew it was untouchable:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

Revoking your media, charging by the byte for messaging, confiscating things in the name of security and then selling them back to you – these are all tactics that were developed in the prison system, refined, normalized, and then worked up the privilege gradient. Prisoners are living in your technology future. It's just not evenly distributed – yet.

As it happens, prison-tech is at the heart of my next novel, The Bezzle, which comes out on Feb 20. This is a followup to last year's bestselling Red Team Blues, which introduced the world to Marty Hench, a two-fisted, hard-bitten, high-tech forensic accountant who's spent 40 years busting Silicon Valley finance scams:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

In The Bezzle, we travel with Marty back to the mid 2000s (Hench is a kind of tech-scam Zelig and every book is a standalone tale of high-tech ripoffs from a different time and place). Marty's trying to help his old pal Scott Warms, a once-high-flying founder who's fallen prey to California's three-strikes law and is now facing decades in a state pen. As bad as things are, they get worse when the prison starts handing out "free" tablet and closing down the visitation room, the library, and the payphones.

This is an entry to the thing I love most about the Hench novels: the opportunity to turn all this dry, financial skullduggery into high-intensity, high-stakes technothriller plot. For me, Marty Hench is a tool for flensing the scam economy of all its layers of respectability bullshit and exposing the rot at the core.

It's not a coincidence that I've got a book coming out in a week that's about something that's in the news right now. I didn't "predict" this current turn – I observed it. The world comes at you fast and technology news flutters past before you can register it. Luckily, I have a method for capturing this stuff as it happens:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Writing about tech issues that are long-simmering but still in the periphery is a technique I call "predicting the present." It's the technique I used when I wrote Little Brother, about out-of-control state surveillance of the internet. When Snowden revealed the extent of NSA spying in 2013, people acted as though I'd "predicted" the Snowden revelations:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-writing-radicalized-young-hackers-now-he-wants-to-redeem-them/

But Little Brother and Snowden's own heroic decision have a common origin: the brave whistleblower Mark Klein, who walked into EFF's offices in 2006 and revealed that he'd been ordered by his boss at AT&T to install a beam-splitter into the main fiber trunk so that the NSA could illegally wiretap the entire internet:

https://www.eff.org/document/public-unredacted-klein-declaration

Mark Klein inspired me to write Little Brother – but despite national press attention, the Klein revelations didn't put a stop to NSA spying. The NSA was still conducting its lawless surveillance campaign in 2013, when Snowden, disgusted with NSA leadership for lying to Congress under oath, decided to blow the whistle again:

https://apnews.com/article/business-33a88feb083ea35515de3c73e3d854ad

The assumption that let the NSA get away with mass surveillance was that it would only be weaponized against the people at the bottom of the shitty technology adoption curve: brown people, mostly in other countries. The Snowden revelations made it clear that these were just the beginning, and sure enough, more than a decade later, we have data-brokers sucking up billions in cop kickbacks to enable warrantless surveillance, while virtually following people to abortion clinics, churches, and protests. Mass surveillance is chugging its way up the shitty tech adoption curve with no sign of stopping.

Like Little Brother, The Bezzle is intended as a kind of virtual flythrough of what life is like further down on that curve – a way for readers who have too much agency to be in the crosshairs of a company like Viapath or Avently right now to wake up before that kind of technology comes for them, and to inspire them to take up the cause of the people further down the curve who are mired in it.

The Bezzle is an intense book, but it's also a very fun story – just like Little Brother. It's a book that lays bare the internal technical workings of so many scams, from multi-level marketing to real-estate investment trusts, from music royalty theft to prison-tech, in the course of an ice-cold revenge plot that keeps twisting to the very last page.

It'll drop in six days. I hope you'll check it out:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

[xeeljii]

dry humping joost is peak. Shout out to dry humping joost gotta be one of my fav tropes here.

BIG SHOUT OUT TO DRY HUMPING! the dry humping community is thriving we grow each day lol (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

anyways let me share a snippet since I'm itching to post

WARNING! Explicit RPF! 

CW: 18+, f! reader, dry humping duh, alcohol.

also this is a prequel to SHE'S MY COLLAR which someone asked about some time ago ask and u shall receive <3

“Come here.” Joost grabs at your chin gently pulling you closer. He takes a long deep drag of the cigarette, lets it fill his lungs, he gently puts pressure on your jaw with his fingers so you will open your mouth and you do. He is half a breath away from your mouth, you can feels his heat, he opens his mouth slightly and pushes the smoke into yours softly, slowly, you can feel his lips ghost over yours. You inhale, so relaxed under his touch, it feels so good you want to close your eyes and melt on his hand right now but you also want to stare at his beautiful face, the way his eyes seem impossibly blue and the alluring almost white eyelashes that adorn them, all made more enticing by the small cloud of smoke that covers both of you. 

Up close you see the beauty mark right under his lip, it decorates his face perfectly, you become hyper focused on it and before you can stop yourself you are crashing lips first right into it. You place a soft peck on it, he feels his heart stop then you move upwards to actually reach his lips. He feels perfect, he tastes perfect, it is better than you could have imagined.

You chase after his touch, he moves his hand to your waist to hold you closer, you feel him breathing in an out, chests almost touching, it is addicting. Your lips move in uncoordinated harmony but it feels so good. The kiss lasts too little before you have to pull away slightly to catch your breath, you see a string of spit connecting your lips it makes you blush even deeper if that is possible, somewhere in the middle of it all you had climbed onto his lap and he had let you. You are looking down at him, stunned with how gorgeous he looks, lips slightly red from the kissings and shiny perhaps from your own lipgloss.

He puts the cigarette out on an ashtray nearby, now both his hands are at your waist, thumbs caressing softly waiting on your next move. You go back for more, feeling bolder now seeing the hunger in his eyes that you imagine matches the one in yours. His lips are soft and little chapped, they taste distantly like Bacardi and something sweet, the cigarette is there but more than anything it taste like him, you chase after it, push your tongue in his mouth desperate for it, he is just as far gone as you sucks lightly at the wet muscle and you moan in response, his hands go to the small of your back and then to your ass to pull you closer, he feels the fat there so delicious under his fingers when he kneads his hands into the soft muscle. You mewl into his mouth, this feels so fast and like time has stopped making you dizzy. 

You keep kissing, moaning into each others mouths, sucking at each others tongues in reckless abandon. Your hips started humping against his at some point, you feel heat building up in your core and keep chasing after it with soft little movements, he smiles against your kiss, feels your teeth knock together. You are so drunk,  he wonders if you would be embarrassed to know what you are up to, he is now almost lying against the side of the couch, it digs on his back uncomfortably but he can’t be bothered by it when he has such a beautiful vision losing herself on top of him.

He grabs harder at your ass and pulls you up towards his stomach so you will stop torturing him a little with your grinding right on his uncomfortably hard cock. Your little whimpers sound so delicious you are so lost on it, you keep kissing at his lips at his jaw down towards his neck, feel his pulse right under your tongue. He keeps moving your head to reach your lips, seems to be wanting to eat you alive, you open your eyes and you see his pretty face full of desire, full of need, for you. There is a hunger inside you rapidly growing and soon it has you feeling famished. He can feel you trashing against the planes of  his stomach looking for any friction, he can’t really tell if you are unaware or so unashamed in your state that you can’t stop yourself. But you are so desperate for him and he feels like a boiling pot about to explode so he uses the last of his self restrain to tell you, almost beg you.

“Have some mercy on me schat, you are driving me crazy.”

[aphroditestempleimagines]

My girl

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader - 18+

Words: 971

Warnings: Care, bath, Massage, Oral (fem!receiving), fingering, aftercare, established relationship (married), praise, fluff & smut combined

Summary: You had a long day and your husband decided to take care of you.

Author's note: It's Nanamin, what can I say?

Colour: very soft and loving like a warm hug

You close the door behind you. It's finally over. You're home. You take off your pumps and drag your feet over the soft carpet of your living room. You do not want to sit with your outside clothes on the couch, but the need to lie down has been grown exponentially ever since you were asked to work overtime. On top of that, things are work were not the best for some time now, the project you had been currently working on being thrown on the rails every other day.

"Y/n?", your husband's voice comes from the kitchen. You smile at the sound. There is nothing more soothing than hearing your name leave his lips. Behind your half-closed lids you watch his shadow approach you. His arms wraps around you as he kneels next to the couch. "Hey", he concerns, "Everything alright? I was worried"

"I bloody hate overtime", you bury your face in one of the pillows.

He chuckles before placing a kiss on your forehead. "You and me both baby", his hand rubs your back. He takes your hand and plants another kiss on your knuckles before leaning close to your ear. "How does bath and dinner sound?", he kisses your cheek.

You give him a tired smile. "That'd be lovely", you place your hand over his.

He smiles. "I'll draw some water. You just go get yourself out of these clothes"

With that, he lifts himself up and disappears into the bathroom. You rub your tired body as you force yourself to stand. Those soft pecks on your skin from him were enough to motivate you to continue. You take off of your shirt easily, yet as you try to wiggle your way out of your trousers you lose your balance and fall onto the vanity's chair.

"What happened?", the commotion has Kento running in the bedroom. He spots you immediately. "Are you alright?", he reaches for you.

"Yes just tripped", you reassure him.

His sleeves are rolled up, his collar undone. His golden hair falls in front of his blue eyes, his glasses nowhere to be seen. He looks deep into your eyes as he kneels in front of you. His hand cups your cheek as he continues to ask about you.

"Kento", you feel the feverish warmth of lust overcome your senses. You are aware of the blush creeping on your cheeks while you lean in to claim his lips as your own.

He takes a deep breath as he reciprocates. You climb down from the chair to his lap, weaving your hands behind his back. His touch is exhilarating as it moves from your hips to your shoulders, his kiss deepening at the sound of your sighs.

"I thought you were tired", he whispers against your lips.

"I am", you say in the drunken tone of your drowsiness, "You just look so hot right now"

You feel his lips curve against yours. He picks you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the edge of your bed. "How am I supposed to react when you say such things?", his hands caress your cheeks before he climbs down to the foot of the bed. He hikes your legs over his shoulders. His kisses mark the path along the stretch marks of your thighs. "Seems my wife is particularly needy today", he pushed your panties to the side, "I'll have to take care of her".

He trails his kisses closer and closer to your folds until his tongue dives between them. Your fingers thread through his golden locks as you pull him closer, a soft moan escaping your chest. Your legs push him against you as he sucks on your bud, his digit slowly entering your walls as he observes your flushed face. You can feel him smile as you call out his name. He plants a few shallow bites on the soft skin of your thigh.

"Is my girl feeling good?", he scissors his fingers inside your walls.

"Mhm", you bite your lip.

You gasp as he inserts a third finger inside you. Your thighs squeeze him as he sets a faster pace. The sound of his own moans vibrates along your walls, setting your heart ablaze. You gasp for breath. Your hips tremble and lift up as your back curves in pleasure.

"Kento! Ah, right-right there!", your hand pushes his head against you as tears prick the corners of your eyes.

He hums against your clit which does all the more to push you over the edge. He holds you high as you ride your orgasm until you collapse, panting on the bed. He climbs up to kiss your lips.

"How was that?", he asks between kisses.

"So good Kento", you pant, "So so good"

He smiles. His hand cups your cheek. His lips caress your forehead. "Let's get you to the bath, alright?", he rasps. You would protest, but the warmth of his embrace as he carries you in his arms makes your eyes even heavier than they already are. "I'm gonna go make dinner alright?", he kisses your cheek.

You reach for his arm as he tries to get up. "Can we please order?", you ask, guiding his hand around you, "I just...I just need you with me right now".

He lets out a deep breath. He sits behind the tub, his arms wrapping around your body as he rests his chin on your shoulder. He kisses your supple skin as he drags the loofa over your torso, covering it with bubbles. "More than rough day huh?", he asks. You nod, pulling his arms tighter around you. "It's gonna be alright, my love", he holds you as if he is scared to let go, "We'll get through this together, like all the rest"

[emssturniolo]

sleepy nights

pairing: christopher sturniolo x reader

summary: all you need is chris, all chris needs is you

a/n: this kind of short, but i think it's sweet. not my best work, but yeah :) enjoy ! have a good day/night

after a day out with friends, you were comforted by the familiar sound of the boys's voices coming from behind the front door of their LA house. opening the door with the spare key the boys had given you, you smiled as you lifted you head to find three pairs of blue eyes looking back at you - their faces in a soft, identical smile. “hey guys” you said, answering their soft smiles with one of your own. you got two ‘hey’s back, a missing one from chris, who was now making his way towards you - exhaustion painted on his face.  “hi my love” you let out softly. he hummed and latched onto you, hugging you as he took in your scent to comfort him. “hi pretty” he said, continuing “i missed you, can we go to bed? i have no idea why, but i'm really tired - it's fucking one in the morning, i'm always awake at one in the morning” he said. you giggled at his mumbling and asked him “you wanna go to bed?”, to which he responded with “yes please”

you exchanged a ‘goodnight’  to nick and matt, making your way to chris's room downstairs, him following close behind holding your hand. you let go  only to get changed into some comfier clothes, and both climbed into his bed, chris immediately latching onto you once again, and resting his head on your chest. he hummed in content, which made you let out a soft giggle. “what do you wanna do?” you asked, knowing he was tired. “i think i'm gonna go to sleep, i'm tired. you can stay awake if you want to” he whispered, wanting you to feel comfortable. “i can barely keep my eyes open” you said. chris pulled you closer, instantly making you feeling a rush of love him, you admitted that to him, though he already knew. “i love you, pretty boy” he kissed you collar bone, then put his head back to its original position on your chest “i love you too” and with that, you kissed his hair, and then moved to lay your head down on the pillow. chris copied your movements, without disconnecting his body from yours, and as you did with nick and matt earlier, the two of you exchanged  a ‘goodnight’. a comfortable silence fell in the room, which was tinted with a shade of love and affection. the rush of undying love you had for each other never slept, and woke you up to a lazy morning in bed, just content with each other's presence

[19burstraat]

Ok we all know guild me, build me exists due to my artistic abilities being very lacking in the visual arts, so rather than drawing the crows in the komedie brute, I had to write kaz in. however I had ideas for the others that I couldn't get into a fic, so I've put em down here

Kaz: (description ripped from guild me, build me):

a heavy black cape, sewn with stolen chains and jewels so that it jingled upon every movement (...) It was marked up and slit here and there, on the edges and at the collar, to give the impression of crow’s feathers, and it was made of some kind of shiny, velvety fabric that had the oily shine of crow’s plumage. The gloves were the same material, thinner and more embroidered than Kaz would have ever entertained, and the cane was a plain, inaccurate copy– (...) the mask; a silver crow’s head (...) crooked over the eyes and nose, almost like a Kaelish plague mask. But it left the mouth unblocked; of course it did. Dirtyhands needed to talk.

Inej:

Light and flimsy dark (doesn't have to be black; could be blue or grey) fabric for the veil and cloak. Has an element of spiderwebby fraying to it which is a nod to her being... Well, a spider lmao. But also meant to look ghostly and insubstantial, can sometimes see a metal shiny suggestion of knives underneath it. The veil can be parted just down the side of her face, so you can occasionally see a bit of her face, but never the whole thing. Would not be a practical costume to climb or spy in; too long and bothersome, the same way Kaz's Dirtyhands cloak would not be practical to pickpocket in. Sometimes productions get her a few cheap sheath knives.

Jesper:

Rabbit head mask, short cloak in some batshit colour like green or pink, lined w rabbit's fur and threaded with gambling chips, 'lucky' rabbits feet, coins, and stray bullets. Adornments tied on loosely so they swing everywhere when he moves. This way there's also a real risk of the Kaz and Jesper actors getting tangled together if they interact, which is not symbolic, just funny. This is our get-along Komedie Brute costume :) (we are stuck)

Wylan:

A once-fine red cloak with a high ruffly collar-- now tattered and singed and gone to seed. Little bits of wiring or string or pouches of powders etc sewn into it; sneakily embroidered with the Van Eck laurel around the edges. Mask, while elaborate and matching with the cloak, only covers the top half of his face, as if he's not quite as all-in as the others. For similar reasons, the cloak is half-length.

Matthias:

Wolf's head mask ofc, white fur cape a lot longer and more substantial than Jesper's, with heavy furring around the neck (made to bulk out the actor if they're not the right stature, which most will not be). Likely they also weight his boots to make his tread sound more imposing. Possibly a wig if they can afford one, since Druskelle are known for the long hair.

Nina:

Porcelain-doll Venetian style mask (you know the ones!) with a single black tear-- referential both to that bit in CK when they identified themselves that way in the crowd of Mister Crimsons, and the Queen of Mourning thing. Mask is covered with a very light veil, and she wears a long heavy silk cloak with a bit of a hint of a kefta, but not enough to get the Komedie Brute in shit from Ravkan Grisha lmao. Entrance usually heralded with a blue corpselight.

I imagine dependent on the production and the costumier they could look great and beautifully elaborate, or they could look cheap and shit lmao.

Bonus: I got bored and made a mock-up of a page of a Komedie play. I edited over the first folio for this, yes. Sorry to the Big W.S.

[rafeysbafey]

⭒ 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⭒

⭒ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

⭒ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

⭒ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 𝟏,𝟐𝟒𝟐

you snaked your way through the bodies of sweaty and horny teens, all reeking of alcohol and weed.

“top top top top!” you heard chanting from the balcony, your feet seeming to move on their own as you made your way to the commotion.

your eyes landed on rafe and kelce cheering on topper who was on the roof, a second later doing a back flip into the pool below.

“he’s fucking sick, man!” rafe said, smacking kelce on the back as they both laughed. you watched them take a seat in front of the low coffee table that had beer bottles and a bong scattered on top.

there were others with them but you couldn’t place a name to their faces. probably some tourens looking for a good time.

rafe took out a small plastic baggy you weren’t clueless too, shaking it in front of kelce before tossing it to him.

his eyes flickered up for a second before landing on your figure, pupils softening as a smile came to his face.

“hey, baby!” he called, waving you over as kelce made a line on the dirty table, grabbing a crumpled one dollar pill from the side.

you made your way to where he sat, his hands coming up to snake around your waist and pull you into his lap.

his lips found a place on your neck, leaving wet kisses on the skin as you whined at him to stop.

“rafe,” you mumbled, tugging at his collar as kelce told him it was his turn to take a line.

“give me a second, angel,” he whispered before leaning over, his hands holding your waist—keeping you in place.

“c-can you just,” you paused, causing him to pull away just inches from the white substance, “come with me?”

his eyebrows raised suggestively as he chuckled softly, humming in response, “yeah cmon, baby.”

he let you slip off his lap before placing you in front of him, his chest pressed into your back and arms wrapped around your shoulders as he moved you both through the crowd.

you climbed the stairs with him before entering the, thankfully empty, room. you were all too familiar with the bed sheets and curtains, waking up multiple times wrapped in rafe’s arms.

rafe had locked the door behind you two, guiding you towards the end of the bed as the back of your legs hit the edge.

“rafe-” you said, his lips immediately attacking your neck as he ran his hands up your shirt, causing you to let out a whimper.

he immediately pulled away, eyebrows furrowed together as his mouth went agape.

had he hurt you?

“what did i do?” he asked, worry filling his beautiful blue eyes you’ve fallen for many times.

you quickly shook your head, hand coming up to cup the side of his warm face.

“i wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

although he was confused—he nodded in response, letting you continue.

“i had another..” you paused for a moment, hand dropping to rest in your lap as he waited patiently, “another run in with my dad.”

his body tensed up at your words, eyebrows knitting together as he shook his head.

“where did he touch you?” he asked, voice quiet even though he was fuming. he wanted to leave right now and kill your dad, but he knew that would scare you—his anger.

you let your hand run under your shirt before lifting it above your head, the fabric leaving your body to reveal many bruises forming on your abdomen.

that’s why you had made that noise when he touched you.

he held your hand gently as the other ran through your tangled hair, an exhausted sigh leaving your lips as tears threatened to spill.

“where was jj?” he asked, his hatred for your brother seeming to disappear in the moment.

all he cared about was you.

“he was at the chateau with the pogues, he uh…doesn’t know,” you whispered, voice getting lower the more you went on, “i don’t want him to know.”

rafe wanted to do a lot of things right now. those being beat the shit out of your dad, kill luke, resurrect him to do it all again.

but he didn’t.

“let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” he asked, a faint smile on his lips as you nodded.

he brought you to the bathroom and placed you on the counter, your figure slouching as you sat in just your bra and shorts.

"i'm just going to clean these wounds with rubbing alcohol, is that okay, baby?" he asked, taking out the bottle from the cabinet and grabbing a new washcloth.

you nodded in response, letting him slip between your legs as he poured the liquid onto the fabric.

"alright, squeeze my hand if it hurts."

you did as he said, lacing your fingers with his as he went to dab your bruises, unknown cuts coming to the surface as you winced in pain, squeezing your boyfriend's hand a little harder than you expected.

"sorry," you mumbled, faint red marks appearing on his knuckles as he shushed.

"you're okay, baby."

you let him finish cleaning before bandaging the cuts he could see.

"there," he said, throwing the wrappers in the trash before turning to you with a bright smile, gently cupping your face in his hands, "all better."

he grabbed a clean t-shirt and boxers from his drawer to let you wear, a standard outfit you wore when staying the night.

the party seemed to die down over the hour, which wasn't much a surprise considering it was almost four in the morning.

"sorry for ruining your fun," you mumbled into his chest, his fingers running gently under your shirt and over the soft skin, an action he did to soothe you.

"you think i care about that?" he chuckled, vibrations from his laugh meeting your cheek as you shrugged, "i'd rather make sure your safe with me, than being coked out at some party."

"your party," you corrected, just now realizing he was the one throwing the party. it was in his house.

"actually, topper and kelce were the ones that threw it," rafe said while shaking his head, "always an excuse for them to get wasted and into someone's pants."

you lay in silence for a few minutes, just embracing in each other's warmth and comfort before you spoke up.

"i appreciate you, rafe," you whispered, "you take such good care of me."

"stay with me."

your eyebrows quirked together as you lifted your head, chin resting on his chest as you peered up to look at him.

"stay with me in tannyhill as long as you want, until you get sick of me," he joked, that smirk you adore so much making an appearance on his beautiful face, "i just need to know your safe."

"ok," you nodded, zero hesitation in your voice as rafe's eyebrows perked up.

"ok?"

"i want to stay with you."

his smile grew as he leaned down to kiss you, humming in satisfaction at the taste of your cherry chapstick coating your soft lips.

"i'll get your stuff tomorrow-"

"i'll come with," you cut off.

he paused for a second, hesitation covering his features before he nodded slowly in agreement.

"but if he's there-"

"i give you permission to do whatever, rafe," you smiled.

looking down at you, rafe knew he was where he was supposed to be.

[thegatesofsilverandbone]

Sophie had always been drawn to things with a history. Whether it was second-hand furniture or vintage clothes, she loved anything with a story behind it. So when she saw the listing for an old blue truck at an estate sale, she couldn’t resist. It was beat up and worn, but that just meant it had character. It felt like more than just a car; it was something with a past, and now it was hers.

After scraping together enough cash from her summer jobs, she bought it. It was her first car, and though the exterior had clearly seen better days, she felt proud driving it. This truck was going to be her companion on adventures, her ticket to freedom.

Curiosity led her to start exploring the truck as soon as she climbed into the driver's seat. She adjusted her oversized t-shirt—an old comfy one she’d thrown on—and opened the glove box, hoping to find some old paperwork or maybe a forgotten receipt. Her fingers brushed against something metal, and she pulled out a simple, tarnished chain necklace. It was an odd find, but intriguing nonetheless. Without thinking much of it, she slipped it around her neck, the cool metal brushing against her skin.

Suddenly, a tingling sensation spread from her chest and radiated through her body. Her breath hitched as her reflection in the rearview mirror shifted before her eyes. The young woman staring back at her began to change, her features subtly morphing.

Her hands were the first to change, her delicate fingers thickening and roughening, her nails taking on a chipped, unpolished look as if they had seen years of hard work. She watched in astonishment as her slim arms grew more muscular, the once soft skin darkening with a fine layer of hair. Her biceps swelled, stretching the fabric of her t-shirt, and the soft lines of her youthful form hardened into the build of a man in his prime.

Her chest expanded, muscles tightening beneath the shirt, but what caught her attention most was the hair—a thick mat of chest hair sprouted where her skin had once been smooth, rising up toward her collar. The t-shirt she wore now clung to her changing frame, the neckline dipping lower as her body became more masculine, more rugged.

Her legs followed, her slim thighs and smooth skin now bulking up, becoming more powerful, covered in a dense layer of hair. Her cut-off shorts, once feminine and cute, now looked different against the thicker, stronger legs of a man.

Sophie’s face began to shift next. Her jawline squared, her cheeks filling out with the weight of years she hadn’t lived. Dark stubble spread over her chin and cheeks, quickly growing into a full beard. Her eyes, once wide with youth, now held the depth and confidence of someone who had lived a long life. Her reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable.

And yet, as her body transformed, so did her mind. Her memories as Sophie started to blur, fading away like a dream forgotten upon waking. She no longer remembered what it felt like to be Sophie. Instead, her mind filled with the experiences of someone else entirely.

She was Matt now—had always been Matt, hadn’t she? He blinked, the confusion settling as his memories clicked into place. He remembered this truck—his truck. He’d been working on it for years, taking it out on road trips, fixing it up, and restoring it. The necklace on his chest felt familiar, a small trinket that had always been with him, a lucky charm from a friend.

He scratched his beard, his strong, calloused fingers brushing over the hair that had become so familiar. He chuckled to himself, wondering why he had been sitting there, daydreaming about something so strange. After all, he had somewhere to be. His boyfriend was waiting, and Matt had promised to pick him up for their date.

Shifting in the seat, Matt adjusted his t-shirt—it was a simple, comfortable one, much like the one he had always worn on casual days like this. His muscular chest pressed against the fabric, and his shorts rode up slightly as he shifted his weight in the driver’s seat.

With a deep breath, he turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life beneath him. The truck, worn and well-loved, felt like an extension of himself. His hands, rough and familiar, gripped the steering wheel as he pulled out of the driveway, ready to head out for a night with the man he loved.

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the landscape as Matt drove, a calm smile on his lips. The life he remembered as Sophie had faded into nothing, replaced by the confident, comfortable existence of Matt, a man who knew exactly who he was and where he belonged.

As he drove toward his boyfriend’s house, the world around him felt just right. He’d always been Matt, after all—a man with a loving partner, a life full of adventure, and a truck that had been with him through it all.

[kitten4sannie]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘

part 1

Incubus! San x Fem! Reader x Boyfriend! Wooyoung

Genre: never-ending smut 🖤

Summary: All you wanted to do was go to bed so that you could have a nice Christmas morning with your boyfriend the following day. Unfortunately, you would have a late night visitor, and it wasn’t Santa Claus delivering presents. 

W.C: 7.8k

Warnings: *possibly triggering content* mind control/manipulation, some initial resistance, dom! san, sub! reader, sub! wooyoung, mxm, brief (non sexy) choking, sacrilegious vibes, use of a crucifix (i said what i said 👀), use of a collar/leash, jealousy, pet names, name calling, degradation, praise, dirty talk, humiliation, manhandling, spit play, mutual masterbation, mutual cuckholding, oral (giving), cum swapping, wax play, nipple play, thigh riding, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, size kink, bulge kink, brief blood play, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie 

A/N: 🚂 choo choo🚂 next stop: smut city ✨ also shoutout to @cherryxsang for giving me the wonderful idea to make it christmas-themed, as well as the idea to include a collar and leash 🫶🏼 thank you, bestie!! merry xxx-mas, everyone! and i hope you all enjoy this naughty christmas present 🖤🖤🖤

Song Recs: none this time 😭 listen i was very tempted to just put carol of the bells as a joke but i had to restrain myself 😔✊🏼

Masterlist

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“Remind me why all you bought for your friend’s dog was a collar and leash?” you questioned, inspecting said gift and setting it down neatly inside the empty gift box on your lap. 

Wooyoung, who was standing by the Christmas tree and admiring the way the twinkling lights routinely switched off from red and blue to an eye-catching shade of gold, craned his neck back to look at you with a scowl. “First of all, it was on sale.”

You bit back a laugh, amused with your boyfriend’s immediate attitude, quietly closing the box and taping down the sides. 

“And, second of all,” he began, taking a few steps over to the couch and plopping down onto it, leaning his body against yours. “My friend had put it on his wishlist, so there.” 

Slapping a pretty red bow on the top of the plain box and calling it a day, you gave Wooyoung a small nudge with your elbow. “But, you could’ve gotten it custom-done at least, you know? Get their dog’s name engraved into it or something. Just getting a basic one seems a bit lazy to me.” 

Once Wooyoung grabbed the present from your hands and tossed it down onto the floor near the tree, he took a hold of your shoulders. “ ‘Seems a bit lazy to me,’ ” he said mockingly, as he eased you down onto the couch cushion below, climbing over you and leaning down near your face. “You better be careful before I put that collar on you myself.” 

“Mm…” You reached your arms out to wrap around his neck and bring him in closer. “But you better be careful before I pull the lights off of the tree and wrap them around your cock so you can’t cum until I say so.” 

“Is that a promise?” he asked softly, pressing his lips into the side of your jaw, slowly moving down to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck. 

“Don’t tempt me, Woo. I’ll tie you up right now.” You held him close, moaning a bit when you felt him grow hard against your lower abdomen, immediately taking the opportunity to reach down and grip him through his boxers. “You’re so hard for me already…” 

“It’s your fault, Y/N. Take some responsibility,” Wooyoung returned in a low voice, his fingers slipping into the neckline of your tank top and yanking it down so that your tits popped out of it. Hearing your gasp fueled him to suck one of them into his mouth and roll his tongue around it. 

“Fuck…keep going…” 

Wooyoung obliged, only stopping when you both heard the unmistakable sound of an ornament falling off of the tree and hitting the wood floor with a crunch. He sat up, watching as another, more sturdy one, dropped off of the branch it was on and rolled across the floor towards the couch where the two of you were tangled up. 

“What the fuck…” you mumbled, exchanging glances with Wooyoung, before sitting up when he got off of you and went to grab the broom and dustpan. 

Wooyoung came back and swept up the broken pieces of the ornament, chuckling at your frightened reaction. “I’m sure it was just some air blowing or something.” 

“From where?” You pulled your top back up and scanned the corner of the living room near the tree, a strangely unsettling feeling developing in the pit of your stomach. 

“From the heater, you know.” Wooyoung tossed the remaining fragments into the trash and came back to put the other bulb back onto the tree, making sure it was stable. 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense…” You stood up and rubbed your forearm, wondering why you felt so uncomfortable in that moment, like another pair of eyes were on you. 

Wooyoung took notice of this and pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Don’t be so scared, baby. I’m here…”

“Mm…okay,” you nodded, feeling a little better now that you were in Wooyoung’s warm embrace. 

“We should probably get to bed…It’s getting late.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” 

Giving you a soft smile, Wooyoung slung an arm around your shoulders and guided you up the stairs into your bedroom. 

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the both of you, a shadowy figure emerged from behind the tree. The demon’s tattooed fingers clasped around the bulb Wooyoung had returned to the branch. He leaned in to look at his devilish reflection in it, a deep-sounding chuckle erupting from his throat. 

“Rest while you can, you two…before all the fun begins.”

-

Waking up in a cold sweat, you swallowed dryly and looked over at your alarm clock, your eyes slowly focusing on the bright red numbers: 3:01 am. Groaning, you sat up and pushed yourself out of bed, figuring that you might as well get some water to satiate your parched throat. 

Once downstairs, you shuffled into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water, chugging it down as soon as possible. “Ahh…” you sighed, wiping your mouth and setting down the empty cup inside the sink.

Hearing the unmistakable sound of another bulb falling to the ground nearby, you gripped the edge of your nonexistent sleep shorts and gingerly made your way over to the living room. Once you rounded the corner and noticed a dark figure near the Christmas tree, you mumbled, “Santa…?” You desperately hoped that you were right, despite the odds being stacked heavily against you. 

The demon that you had crossed paths with only months ago was standing there, in all his naked glory, poking at another glittery bulb like an amused cat. “Did you mean San, sweetheart?” he questioned in a  velvety voice, his striking cherry-red eyes locking with your wide ones. 

“No! You are not ruining Christmas for me!” you cried, quickly making your way over to the ledge above the fireplace and picking up the crucifix that you and Wooyoung had purchased a while ago. 

San scoffed, taking a few quick steps in your direction, his length swaying a bit between his thighs. “That’s rude. Ruin is a pretty strong word.”

Once the demon got too close for comfort, you held up the crucifix in front of you and gritted your teeth. “S-stay back!” 

San took a step back and held his arms up defensively, an unexpected look of fear taking over his usually confident appearance. “Fuck, put that shit away!” 

Gaining a bit of courage, you pushed towards him, stating, “I’ll put it away when you get the hell out of here!” You held the crucifix closer to his arms, hearing him hiss as if it was burning him. 

Once you got incredibly close to him, San looked at you, his fear melting away into an eerily neutral expression. He lowered his hands and stood up straight, leaning his head back so that he could burst out in a self-satisfied fit of laughter. “You really thought you were doing something there! Holy shit, that’s gold.” 

“Huh…?” You looked up at the demon in shock, slowly starting to realize that you never had any control in the situation. 

Towering over you, San reached down to run a warm finger along your jawline, giving you a grin, his shiny white fangs glinting with the aid of the few burning candles that were sitting atop the ledge. “You know all that stuff is fake, right?” 

“But…” You pouted, your arm slowly lowering to your side in defeat, wondering why every form of media had lied about how to get rid of unwanted demonic spirits. 

San placed a hand against his lower abdomen, unable to keep himself from letting out another laugh, this one more arrogant sounding than the last. “You humans really just believe anything you’re told, huh? How pathetic.” He cracked his knuckles and moved his neck around, loosening the tension. “Now, come here, darling.” 

“No!” you argued, taking a few small steps backwards.  

Before you could defend yourself, the eager demon grabbed a hold of your neck and brought you down onto the floor, pinning you down with ease.

He chuckled, taking the crucifix from your hand and studying the fake jewels adorning the gold ridges around the top of it. “Humans were blessed with free will and yet some of them actively choose to deny themselves pleasure. What purpose does that serve? Especially when there’s so much debauchery to be a part of?” 

You weren’t really paying attention to his words, too busy trying to pull his fingers away from your neck and hitting them with your closed fist when you couldn’t peel any of them off. 

“Are you listening to me, sweetheart?” He leaned in towards your face to appreciate the anger etched into your features, his toothy, cheshire-like grin initially pissing you off a bit more than it turned you on.

Acting without thinking, you pursed your lips and sent a wad of spit in his direction, watching it land on his cheek and drip down along his sharp jaw. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” he muttered, a deep growl reverberating from his ink-covered throat. He dropped the crucifix onto the floor with a low, resounding clang so that he could reach over and grab the nearest present, ripping it open and taking out the collar. “You want to act like a disobedient pet, huh? You don’t want to be good for me?”

Once he loosened his grip on you, you could finally take in a steady breath, but were unable to wiggle yourself out from under him, his body weight keeping you pinned to the floor. “I’m not your pet!”

San shook his head, his shaggy black hair swaying slightly along with his movements. “Stupid girl.” Undoing the strap of the leash, he reached down and put it on you, making sure it was tight enough to push into your skin, but not enough to fully choke you. “You say you’re not my pet, but yet here you are, wearing a collar, with your pretty little cunt soaked for me like a bitch in heat.” 

San sure had a way with words, you would have to admit. Were you actually into this as much as he was?

Judging by the way your body was already screaming for the demon to touch you, the signs were pointing to a definite yes. 

“Get this fucking thing off of me,” you protested half-heartedly, encouraging him to tug on the edge of the leash near the collar itself and force you to look up into his spellbinding irises, keeping you still with his inhuman strength. 

“Now why would I do something like that? I’m having so much fun. Aren’t you having fun?” 

“No,” you lied through your teeth, secretly wishing that he would shove his tongue inside your mouth so that you could experience the aphrodisiac-like effects of his saliva. 

“You will soon, darling.” He leaned in close, his forked tongue slipping out past his lips to run along your jaw, tasting you. It burned your skin like last time, but you couldn’t deny that it felt incredibly good this time around.

He let go of your collar, your head lowering back down onto the cool floor beneath you. “But, why now?”

Almost annoyed, San answered matter-of-factly, “I wanted to give myself a nice present this year. So I decided I would spend another night with you and your boyfriend.” Seeing the way you were starting to look at him with less malice and more interest, he purred lovingly, “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you the most, my pretty little toy.”

Swallowing harshly, you relaxed your previously tense body, opening your mouth without his explicit order to do so. “Aah…” 

San grew incredibly hard from this, not wasting a single second to grab your jaw and keep it open, his face now inches away from yours. “Oh, I see. You’ll only be obedient if you’re feeling good, hmm? You want your body to feel so hot…” he began, running a thumb over your bottom lip, “…so sensitive, that you can’t even think straight?”

With your heart pounding away in your chest, you nodded slightly, your squished cheeks feeling warm to the touch. “Uh-huh…” 

San’s pupils formed into small slits, just as he slipped his tongue past your parted lips, using it to coil around yours, his abundant saliva filling your mouth. He broke the kiss once you swallowed it down, your own pupils resembling saucers once you had. 

“Good girl.” The demon climbed off of you and picked up the crucifix, licking his lips. “Now, since you weren’t listening to me earlier, I’m going to have to demonstrate just how passionate I am about sin.” 

You sat up and looked at him curiously, not entirely sure where he was going with this. Regardless, you were ready for anything, the arousal surging throughout your body causing your lower half to ache almost painfully in anticipation. 

San flipped the crucifix upside down, pursing his lips and letting some spit drip down the thick, long rod. “Go on and get yourself comfortable, sweetheart.” 

You slid yourself over to the cold brick wall of the fireplace and pressed your back against it. Biting into your bottom lip, you gingerly spread your legs apart, your tiny shorts giving San an eyeful of your bare cunt, your wetness already dripping down onto the floor from the fast-acting effects of his saliva. 

“Mm, look at you. All nice and wet for me, just like I knew you’d be.” He moved in your direction, settling next to you and lowering his hand down so that he could rub the polished end of the crucifix up and down your pussy, just barely teasing your hole with it. 

“Shit…” you whispered, jolting abruptly when the tip of it rubbed into your sensitive clit. 

“Hey, do you think God is watching us right now? Or a few nosy angels?” Different sounding voices, some deeper and some higher, came out as San spoke, the other beings channeling him making an early appearance. “You think they’re aroused? Or disgusted? Maybe both? Fuck, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“San…” You whined a bit, equally disturbed and turned on by his preferred kink, almost unable to believe that you were so eager to be involved in such perversion, especially with your boyfriend still sleeping peacefully just a floor above you. Did it count as cheating if you were messing around with a supernatural being? Who knows. 

“What’s wrong, love? You want it inside already, don’t you?” He chuckled into your ear, his tongue sliding out to lick along the shell of it, angling his hand down slightly and pushing the cold metal rod up into your entrance as deep as it would go. “Take it all for me…”

You responded with a sharp inhale, leaning your head back into the brick behind you, your eyes shifting to look into the demon’s glowing ones when he had begun to move it in and out of you. The rod was surprisingly thick and heavy, making you feel pleasantly full inside. “Oh my god…!” 

When he witnessed the ‘o’ shape your mouth made and the moans that began to slip out, he mirrored it, his cock throbbing at the sight of the intrepid lust that had seemed to completely take over you. “Yeah? You like having a cross inside your cunt, baby? It feels good, huh? Does it make you want to worship God or me?” 

“You, San…If you make me cum, I’ll worship you in any way you want…” You reached down to wrap your fingers around his wrist, moving it in a faster motion when you felt like he wasn't pleasuring you to the extent you truly needed.  

“Fuuuck, you’re such a dirty little slut,” he groaned, gripping the edge of the cross and shoving it in and out of you, using his free hand to rub your clit in circles. 

You couldn’t help but reach your arms out past San’s broad shoulders, your fingertips clutching his muscular back for support. “Don’t stop…” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Looking at you like you were his next meal, he slowly dragged his heavy tongue up the side of your flushed cheek, emitting a small ‘aah’ sound. 

“Sounds…good…” you exhaled shakily, shivering from the tingling sensation on your skin where he left his saliva. 

San continued to fuck you with the cross, his fingers moving rapidly across your clit, making sure to speed up his movements when your arousal began to squirt out of you and drip down the rod onto his hand. “Oh, baby, look at you…It feels so good, you’re already squirting for me?” 

“Yesyesyesyes…Fuck, San…!” A ragged, desperate cry erupted from your throat, your nails dragging down the demon’s back and giving him fresh cuts, much to his delight. 

After you came back down from your intense high, you didn’t feel fully satisfied and a little tired like you usually did with Wooyoung. Instead, you felt invigorated, your body almost vibrating at the thought of going another round with the demon sitting beside you. 

“You’re drooling, my love,” he mused, wiping some of your spit away with the pad of his thumb and swiping at it with the very tip of his tongue. When you just sat there with your lips still parted and your eyes just as dilated as before, San felt the need to inform you of some new information. “Also, we seem to have a guest.” 

You hadn’t noticed in the slightest, but Wooyoung had gotten up to investigate when he heard the muffled sounds of your blatant ecstasy coming from downstairs. He had just barely made it into the living room, standing incredibly still near the wall, not prepared to deal with this situation in the slightest. 

“Woo!” you said excitedly, about to get up when San grabbed your chin and coaxed it open. 

“Don’t swallow this time, okay? I want you to hold it in your mouth and let your cute little boyfriend have a taste.” As soon as he spoke, long strings of saliva began to drip down from his tongue down onto yours, causing you to moan in approval. Once San was done, he tugged a bit on the leash and gave you an eerie smile, whispering near your ear, “Go get ‘em.” 

Once San let go of the leash, you sprung up onto your feet and sprinted towards Wooyoung, causing him to back up into the wall and hold his hands up defensively. “Oh, god, baby, no! Just stay right there! Don’t–”

Cutting your boyfriend off when your body collided with his, you didn’t waste any time forcing his jaw open and holding his face still. “Come on, have a taste...” You eased your combined spit into his mouth, your chest pressing against his bare one. 

“M-mmn,” he mumbled, his knees almost buckling from the way your tongue lapped languidly at his. His cock instantly began to strain against the confines of his boxers from the relentless waves of arousal that were rushing through him. You opened your eyes slightly, wanting to see his next reaction.

Wooyoung groaned against your lips when your hand tugged his boxers down and off of his body, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. 

Breaking the kiss, but staying in close proximity to his face, you purred, “God, you’re so hard and I’ve barely touched you, Woo.” 

“You act like this doesn’t happen every time…” 

Delighted by his response, you bit his bottom lip and gently tugged at it with your teeth, earning a moan from him. “Mmm, your cock won’t stop throbbing either.” You began eagerly pumping your hand and drinking in the sight of your boyfriend’s flushed face and drawn eyebrows. 

“I…ahhh…can’t help it…” 

In the middle of all this, San had made himself comfortable on the couch, watching you both in silence, not even bothered that his untouched length kept twitching periodically. 

Wanting to make you feel just as good, Wooyoung slid his own hand past your shorts and rubbed two fingers into your sensitive clit, asking, when he heard you moan, “Yeah, baby? Does that feel good?” 

“Really good…” 

“You want my fingers inside you?” 

“Please, Woo…”

Wooyoung let out a soft chuckle, dropping your shorts to the floor and sliding two digits into you so that he could eagerly shove them in and out, already knowing how to find your g-spot right away.

 “Oh, fuck…Right there…!” 

“I hear you, baby. I’ll take care of you.” Wooyoung’s tongue poked out of his mouth to wet his lips, grunting as he sped up his movements, encouraging you to do the same with him. 

With your foreheads pressed together and hastily breathing in the same air, your eyes locked on one another’s, neither of you wanting to focus on anything else except for each other at that moment. 

“Baby, I’m gonna…” Wooyoung announced, just barely loud enough for you to hear, his fingers curling a bit more inside your slick hole, leading you to feel like you were about to cum as well. 

“Me too…I–…fuck…” Just as you felt the intensely warm build up inside you begin to overwhelm your senses, you slotted your lips onto Wooyoung’s, the both of you moaning into each other’s open mouths as you reached the height of your shared pleasure. 

With his chest heaving, Wooyoung pulled his wet digits out and broke the kiss so that he could push them onto your tongue, letting you savor what had just poured out of you. “Does my baby like tasting herself?” he asked breathlessly, finding it incredibly arousing how you were sucking on his fingers and nodding your head in such an adamant way. 

San brought a fist up to his mouth and cleared his throat loudly. “I hate to interrupt something this hot, but I think it’s about time you both got your asses over here.” 

You and Wooyoung exchanged glances, almost forgetting about the supposed high-tension situation you were in. “Sorry,” was all you could come up with, unconsciously pulling at the tight collar San had put on you, waiting with baited breath to see how he would respond. 

“You’re lucky I’m in the Christmas spirit.” San spread his legs open and pointed downward with one tattooed finger. “I want you both on your knees in front of me. Now.” 

Without any hesitation, you both scrambled to the floor before San, sitting on your knees and looking up at him expectantly, completely at his mercy. The demon’s eyes glowed temporarily, the tip of his spiked tail flicking around in the air. “So obedient.” 

You couldn’t even register San’s praise, too distracted by his stiff cock, the tip of it red, angry, and dripping with clear liquid. You swallowed your spit, but you couldn’t prevent a bit of drool from leaking out past your lips. 

Noticing how hungry you looked, San took a hold of the leash in one hand and pulled it, yanking you closer to him so that you came face to face with his weapon of choice. “Mm, you haven’t gotten the chance to suck my cock yet, huh? I can see why you’re so eager.” 

Wooyoung scooted closer to you, the side of his body pressing into yours, his fingers finding their way to your pussy and idly rubbing it up and down. “Go on, baby…”

Just as you lunged forward to devour San, he grabbed you by the chin and held it still. “Here’s your present,” he informed sweetly, slapping his heavy cock across your face and rubbing the tip of it over your lips, allowing you to taste his slightly salty pre-cum. 

Despite being a little dizzy from the impact, you felt a major spike of pleasure shoot through you from this particular display of dominance, as well as from the way Wooyoung’s fingers kept gliding over your dripping cunt.

“Now, suck,” San ordered, pressing his cockhead to your mouth. 

You took the initiative, dragging your tongue from the tip down to the base and sucking the side of it, cupping his balls in your warm palm and gently massaging them. “Mmm…” 

“Gooood girl.” San slid down slightly against the plush couch behind him, moving a few strands of loose hair out of your face and behind your ear. 

You teased him for an unspecified amount of time, until you suddenly felt the intense urge to feel him inside your mouth. When Wooyoung slipped a finger inside your cunt, you leaned in and allowed San’s length into your throat, your mouth stretching around it, diligently sucking him off for a while and using one hand to reach the rest of it. 

Feeling like he would cum too soon, San groaned out, running his fingers through your hair. “Slow down, darling…slow down…” When you didn’t listen, he gripped the leash and tugged in the opposite direction. “I forgot how much of a greedy whore you are,” he mused, yanking you backwards off of his cock with a lewd ‘pop’, choking you temporarily. 

You whimpered, leaning against one of San’s spread thighs, whining, “But, I wanted to make you cum.”

“You need to share. Look at your poor little boyfriend. Look at his face.”

You rubbed your throat just underneath the leather material so that you could soothe the irritated skin, looking over at Wooyoung who was drooling as well, his eyes focused solely on the demon’s curved length. 

“Think he can handle this?” San asked you, prompting you to shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” 

Retracting his hand from you, Wooyoung took major offense to your reaction and huffed, wrapping one hand around San’s cock, pumping it lightly. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you both.” 

Wooyoung took in a fair amount of San’s cock, the sides of his mouth stinging from the sheer girth of it, but pressing on and bobbing his head. “M-mmm…”

“Fuck, that’s a good boy…” the demon sighed, watching him for a while until he suddenly gripped the back of Wooyoung’s head and fucked his mouth somewhat quickly, too consumed with lust to care if he was able to breathe or not. “Mm, take it, baby…” 

Wooyoung took it the best he could, gagging profusely, with tears falling from his cloudy eyes. Due to never experiencing something so pleasurable before, his cock began dripping a large amount of pre-cum until he eventually came untouched, his load shooting out onto his chest. “Mmmnn…!” 

You swallowed hard, your heart racing inside your ribcage, never realizing how incredibly turned on you could feel just from witnessing someone face-fucking your boyfriend in front of you. You couldn’t even be jealous. At least, not yet, anyways. 

“Who knew your boyfriend was such a cockslut?” San exhaled in your direction, his dark eyes focusing solely on yours, even when he stopped thrusting and held Wooyoung still, his cock deep inside his throat. Hearing the young man gagging noisily around him, he groaned in ecstasy. “Hey, darling, you want to taste my cum too, don’t you?” 

“Yes, please…” you whined softly, prompting San to yank Wooyoung off him, causing thick strings of saliva to leave his mouth and drip down his chin. 

San slid his fingers around the back of your neck and held you in place on one side of his cockhead, grabbing the back of Wooyoung’s head, so that his mouth was positioned on the other side. “Let me see how bad you both want it…”

Exchanging a lustful gaze with Wooyoung, the two of you slurped on the tip, your lips and tongues occasionally meeting in the middle until San let out a loud strangled cry of pleasure. He pushed Wooyoung’s face away for a moment, wanting to see his favorite toy painted with his seed. 

“Here you go, baby…” San gripped the back of your head with both hands and held you still, his load gushing out in long spurts, most of it landing on your face. You made sure to catch some of his cum inside your open mouth, about to swallow it, but stopping when you heard San whisper, “Share it with him…” 

Obeying his request, you pulled your boyfriend into a sloppy kiss, his fingers interlocking with yours as you both swapped the milky liquid back and forth, the both of you moaning periodically. 

Wooyoung pulled away so that he could wipe off the remaining cum from your face, then held his coated fingers up in between your mouths, allowing you both to lick and suck them clean. 

If San had a soul, it would’ve left his body by now. Thankfully, he didn’t, so he was still good to go. However, he couldn’t help but feel a little bothered. There was so much pleasure to take part in, but so little time. He would have to make the most of it, knowing that he couldn’t truly use the two of you to the extent that he wanted, or else he risked the chance of completely draining your life sources. 

Letting the two of you recover from the overload of endorphins that were plaguing your minds, San pointed to the ledge above the fireplace, ordering, “Grab one of those candles and bring it over here. Then, the both of you can make yourselves comfortable on my lap.” 

Before you could move, Wooyoung had already jumped up and grabbed one of the melting candles, bringing it over to San and propping himself up on one of the demon’s large, muscular thighs. You got up and sat down on San’s opposite thigh, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. 

The demon took the candle from your boyfriend and tilted it sideways, dripping some of the hot liquid along Wooyoung’s collarbones, as well as down his chest. “You like that?” 

Wooyoung gasped in response, nodding his head, his cock growing hard once again from the pleasantly warm feeling of hot liquid running down his melanin skin. 

“How about this?” San questioned in a low voice, holding the candle closer to Wooyoung’s chest so that some of the candle wax poured down over one of his nipples, making sure to do the same to the other one. 

“Feels…so good…” Wooyoung arched his back, reaching up the play with one of his sensitive buds, squeezing it and pulling at it. “Play with me too, San…” 

San ran his thumb over Wooyoung’s other pert bud, rolling it around in tight, small circles. “Such a mindless little whore.” He carefully set the candle down on the couch so that he could grip one of Wooyoung’s hips, bringing his mouth down near his chest so that he could lap at one of his buds with his forked tongue. 

This, of course, drove your boyfriend crazy, leading him to begin mewling and grinding his cock into him. “It’s so good…so good…” he repeated, shuddering from how the demon’s drool began to drip down along his body. 

“I bet, baby,” San returned in a raspy voice, completely entranced by how needy he was being, pulling Wooyoung’s body against his own, who whined almost immediately.

“I’m gonna cum again…” Wooyoung moaned, his brown eyes blown out with desire, slowly rubbing his bare chest onto the demon’s muscular one, unable to handle how sensitive his body was feeling. 

“Uh-uh, you can’t be cumming so soon. At least, not until I’ve made your girlfriend squirt again.” 

You let out a small whimper, leaning your head into the crook of San’s neck, feeling ignored but not voicing it. You felt his hand move up your lower back and caress it, but he didn’t pay attention to you quite yet. 

“Want it on your cock?” Amused by Wooyoung’s eager nodding, San lowered the candle and slowly poured the warm liquid in a line across the young man’s throbbing erection.

“Fuuuck, San…!” Feeling the candle wax drip down the sides of his length, Wooyoung whined louder and continued rubbing himself into San’s lower abdomen in an unapologetic way until he cried out in ecstasy, cumming once again. 

“Didn’t I just tell you not to cum? So selfish…” San muttered under his breath, his fingers gripping into the sides of the candle, glaring daggers at Wooyoung, who was too busy milking the last few drops of cum from his softening length. “Darling, pull some of the lights off of the tree for me, will you? And wrap them around this disobedient whore’s cock while you’re at it.” 

Hearing San finally address you directly, you pulled yourself up from the couch and headed over to the tree, following his directions. 

Wooyoung gulped nervously, before gasping when San suddenly shoved him to the ground below him. San then set the candle down onto the floor, his lips forming a lewd smile. “Guess what? You’re going to sit there and watch me pleasure your girlfriend for the rest of the night. I’ll make sure to take care of her in ways that you can’t. Does that sound good?” 

“Very.” Wooyoung returned the smile and sat on his knees, shivering a bit when you began to wrap the Christmas lights around his body, binding his arms behind his back and making sure to coil the wire around his already stiffening cock. He looked up at you and frowned. “Hey, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hog all of the attention earlier…”

“It’s okay, Woo, but it’s my turn now,” you returned, running your thumb over the slit of his cockhead just to tease him. “Enjoy the show~” 

Wooyoung groaned softly, knowing he most definitely would enjoy every single second of it. It didn’t matter who was touching you, as long as you were feeling good.

“Come here, my love.” San beckoned you with his index finger, leading you to drop the rest of the lights so that you could lower yourself into his lap and straddle one of his thighs. Seeing the pout on your face, he settled his hands on your hips and pulled your body closer, tilting his head to the side. “You didn’t like being ignored, did you?” 

“Uh-uh…” 

“You want my attention that bad, huh?” 

“Yes, please…I need it…” You ran your hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck, feeling San squeeze his hands into the supple flesh of your hips and begin to grind himself into you. 

“My darling little toy…you should’ve told me how desperate you were for my attention earlier,” he murmured into your ear, lifting his thigh up slightly while he continued to drag you along it, allowing it to press harder into your clit, making you moan. 

“I didn’t want you to punish me…” You began to breathe somewhat heavily, due to San dragging your lower half back and forth at an even faster rate, your insides feeling like they were on fire. 

“I thought you liked it when I punished you.” 

“I do, but,” you started, unable to hold back a choked moan from the way San continued to control your body movements, his fingers digging deeper into your flesh and feeling the inner ridges of your hip bones. “I like it more when you’re like this…” 

“Like what?”

“Sweet to me…” you replied in a soft voice, a light blush forming on your cheeks.

San didn’t know it was possible for him to feel such a pleasant warmth inside his chest. It almost made him sick, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed such a gentle sensation. “My love…” he whispered, pulling you into a surprisingly heartfelt kiss, still encouraging you to grind on his thigh, eventually driving you over the edge. 

You cried out into his mouth, your arousal gushing out onto his lower half and dripping onto the couch cushion below. When he pulled away, you simply gazed into his hypnotic eyes, panting heavily.

“Did that feel good?” 

“Mm-hmm…” You pressed yourself up against the demon, your fingers slipping into his raven hair. “Am I your favorite pet to play with?”

“Of course you are, darling.” Bringing one of his hands up to your neck and running a finger over the collar you had on, San asked, “Do you want me to give you a collar that has your name on it? One that I’ll put on you whenever I come by to fuck your brains out?”

You hugged San close to you, nodding your head so quickly, you didn’t even register Wooyoung’s obvious jealousy — but not the kind that you expected. 

“That’s not fair,” Wooyoung pouted, his fingers twitching slightly behind his back. “I want one too…”

San looked past your shoulder down at Wooyoung, his once crimson eyes appearing to be completely black at this point. “Sorry, pretty boy. Maybe if you didn’t cum every five seconds, I would consider giving you one too.” 

Trying to reclaim San’s focus, you hooked your fingers into the hem of your tank top and lifted it up and over your head, tossing it behind you, not noticing or caring that it landed on your boyfriend’s head. He shook it off, emitting a small whimper, but not exactly bothered by the position he was in. 

“I’ll take care of you, my love. I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never be able to think about anything else, except for me.” San reached for the candle and held it above your breasts, dripping some of it across your soft flesh, using his thumbs to rub the warm candle wax across your nipples. 

“Fuck, San…” you gasped, arching your back when he poured a larger amount down the valley of your breasts, feeling it drip down your abdomen and onto your aching sex. “Please, I can’t take it anymore…” 

“Yeah?” He blew the candle out and tossed it onto the floor, not caring that it rolled into Wooyoung’s leg, who was trapped between a state of immense pleasure and agony, his cock straining against the wire to the point that the tip of it was an angry shade of red. “Is there something you want, pretty girl?” 

Feeling San’s large hands roam up your body and onto your tits so that he could grope and knead them to his heart’s content, you nodded, exhaling, “Your cock.” 

“My cock?” 

“I need it in me…” 

“In your pretty little cunt?” 

You blushed, your heart skipping a few beats inside your chest. “In my pretty little cunt…” 

“As you wish, darling.” San let out a pleased huff of air, lifting your hips up and pushing the tip of his cock against your entrance, stretching you out so that he could slide you down onto it. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so tight.” 

You let out a small cry, your fingernails digging into San’s back, trying to get accustomed to his unusually large size. 

Glancing at Wooyoung over your shoulder, San gave the suffering young man a crooked smile. “You must not be hitting it right, huh? Your girlfriend’s tighter than those lights wrapped around your cock.” 

Wooyoung bit his bottom lip, feeling humiliated, but still relishing the way San talked down to him, his tethered length twitching slightly as a response. “You should…show me how it’s done…”

San exhaled something in Latin, gripping either side of your ass and plunging himself deep inside you so that he could begin his pursuit of pleasure. 

“It’s so big, San…” you moaned out, feeling like you were already descending into madness from the way he was pounding into you at such a brutal speed, the couch creaking so loudly underneath you that the springs could snap at any given moment. “So fucking big, I can barely take it!” 

“You’re just tiny…” San squeezed his fingers into your ass and kneaded it, bringing you to let out a whine. “You think you’ll be able to go back to your boyfriend’s cock after this? Or will you be dreaming about mine?” 

“I…”

“Look at him and say it,” he chuckled darkly, prompting you to turn your head back and look down at Wooyoung, who was gazing up at you with stars in his eyes. 

“I’ll be dreaming about San’s cock the next time you–aah–fuck me, Woo…” 

Wooyoung groaned, heavy amounts of pre-cum dripping down the head of his dick and onto the floor below. “I can’t blame you, baby…” 

San was only able to take so much satisfaction at once, suddenly holding you down so that he was fully inside you. “Are you ready for me to fill her up with my cum, pretty boy?” 

Wooyoung nodded his head, his dick aching so much that his eyes started to water. “Yes, fuck–fill her up for me, San! Please!” 

San obliged, holding you completely still as he unloaded into your cunt, the gushing warmth of his cum so pleasurable that you came on the spot. 

“I need more, San…” you whispered shakily, encouraging the demon to lift you up and guide your body so that you were facing the other way, your back against his heated chest. 

“You read my mind, darling.” He shoved himself back into you, forcing some of the sticky liquid to drip down to the base of his length and pool around his inner thighs. “You’re still so fucking tight…I might actually lose it…” 

“Then you better fuck me until I get used to your size,” you exhaled lovingly, reaching a hand back so that you could slip your fingers into his damp hair, leaning your head back as well so that yours was near his. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered gruffly into your ear, his hands running down your lower abdomen and feeling his heavy cock protruding through your skin. “I bet you’d want me to fuck you day in and day out until you break for me.” 

Tears formed in your eyes due to the immense stimulation, unable to see Wooyoung clearly anymore from how blurry your vision was becoming. “You can break me as many times as you want, as long as I’m yours,” you replied in a shaky voice, turning your head to face San.

San began to drool from your words, answering confidently, “You were mine the moment I first saw you, darling. Now…let me have a little bite, okay?” He suddenly ripped off your collar and tossed the remains onto the floor, baring his sharpened teeth. He plunged them into your neck without a second of hesitation, biting down and drawing out your coursing blood. 

“Drink up…” you moaned weakly, blinking your tears away and gripping the ends of his hair, your lower half pulsing so intensely that you knew you were going to reach your mind-melting high again. 

San noisily slurped the hot liquid up into his mouth, moaning and breathing heavily against your skin, his cock throbbing inside you. “Mmmn…’M….going to…cum…” 

“Pleasepleaseplease…fill me up…” you chanted, your heart racing inside your chest, not even bothered how San gulped down your precious life source. 

The demon suddenly pulled his mouth away and brought you all the way down on his length again, cementing you in place. “Stand up, pretty boy! Now!” 

Wooyoung got up onto his feet so quickly he felt dizzy, about to sob from how insanely good it felt when San’s tail whipped down and sliced the wire off of his cock, finally allowing him to cum. “Oh my fucking god, yes!” he shouted out in ecstasy, his load shooting out all over your chest and lower abdomen. 

“Here it comes, darling!” Almost simultaneously, San groaned incredibly loud, tossing his head back onto the couch and pumping you full of his seed for the second time, leading you to your own pinnacle of pure bliss, your mind and body feeling almost completely numbed out. 

You couldn’t really acknowledge it when San slipped out from underneath you and stood up, your exhausted body simply falling down onto the couch so that you could get some rest. Wooyoung joined you as well, knocking out almost as soon as he landed next to you. 

His own brain and body tingling pleasantly around the edges, San reached down to pet both of your heads, sighing softly. “Merry Christmas, my lovely playthings. Take care, until we meet again.” 

He walked over to the tree so that he could take one of the bulbs as a souvenir, looking at his satisfied, flushed reflection inside it. “Merry Christmas to me…” And with that, he vanished into thin air. 

-

When noontime rolled around the next day, the both of you slowly sat up and rested against the couch, looking at each other, studying the various marks, chipped candle wax, and dried remnants of cum that littered your aching bodies. 

You cleared your sore throat, leaning into Wooyoung and sighing. “So…he was kind of sweet this time around…Is that crazy to say?”

“Not crazy, no.” Wooyoung wrapped his arms securely around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I mean, I got bullied towards the end there, but honestly, I was really into it.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, melting into Wooyoung’s embrace. “I could tell.” 

“But, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good before. I almost lost my mind.” 

“Me too,” you nodded, pulling away and leaning back against the couch again, your boyfriend’s arm slipping around your shoulders and hanging off of it. “I’d say it was a night well spent.”

“Agreed.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, simply holding each other and admiring the snow that was falling gently outside the frosted windows of your living room. You sighed to yourself, content with how you were filled up with more than just Christmas spirit, idly running your fingers along the deep bite marks on your neck. 

Noticing the Santa hat that was sitting near the top of the couch, Wooyoung grabbed it and put it on your head, giving you a smile. “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

You kissed his cheek, a wide smile forming on your face. “More like Merry Dickmas. Get it? Cuz San’s got a huge c–”

“No, I get it,” Wooyoung cut you off, giving you a blank stare, before erupting in a fit of giggles that you joined in on as well, the both of you hugging and falling back down onto the couch to get some more rest. Once you both quieted down, Wooyoung informed, “It’s my turn to get fucked next time though.”

You turned your head to look at him, gently running your fingers along his chest. “Sure, but he might not want to, since I’m his favorite, after all.” 

Wooyoung tsked, hugging you closer to him and nuzzling your cheek. “Are you the main character all of a sudden, or what?”

You nuzzled him back, basking in his comforting warmth and giving him a gentle kiss. “Duh.” 

➽───────────────❥

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2022.

[elswifee]

Jealousy Jealousy

Warnings: violence, drug!use, alcohol!use, future smut, flirty!ellie, dom!ellie, jealous!ellie, bsf!ellie, nerdy!reader, strong language, sub!reader, f!nger!ng (r!receiving), strap!usage (r!receiving), scissoring, angst.. I guess??

Summary: player ellie finally convinces her bestfriend's, y/n to go to a party after school, when she get jealous of people start looking at her with hungry eyes. Causing a scene, may cost her, her bestfriend.

Part 1 | Part 2

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The sound of your alarm rings through your ears causing you to jump up. The weight of an arm around your waist keeps you down. You turn around to find ellie sleeping softly, her lips slightly parted. Her soft snores making it seem as though she is in a deep sleep. She looks so pretty.

"Ellie, ellie, wake up. We have to get ready for school, c'mon." You lightly rub her arm, causing her to stur. She grunts, mumbling something about not wanting to wake up. You slip out of her arms heading to your restroom to brush your teeth. You spit out the toothpaste and look up, ellie standing behind you in her sweatpants low on her waist, showing the waistband of her black boxers and a baggy black shirt. She leans over you, slightly brushing her front on your ass. She reaches for her toothbrush that you don't mind having in your house along with a few pieces of her clothing in your drawers. You continue to brush your teeth, bending forward to spit and rinse your mouth. The fat slightly showing from the bottom of your shorts. Ellie leans back just a tad bit to check it out before fixing her posture quickly when you come up to wipe your mouth.

Leaving the restroom to go change into some low waisted, bootcut jeans before putting on a dark blue long sleeve shirt that makes your figure look like an hourglass. Ellie walks in as you pull down your shirt, making her way to your drawers looking for something to wear. "How'd you sleep?" You say in a sweet tone. "I slept good actually, just wish you didn't have that alarm so early in the morning, though." She smiles, pulling out her black jeans before putting them on. She pulls on her black tee by the collar and over her head, making her toned abs flex. She settles on her grey long-sleeved shirt, pulling up the sleeves just below the elbow, showing the tattoo on her forearm. She had gotten a new sleeve on her opposite arm.

"Well.. it's good to wake up early, therfore we won't be late and you'll be able to buy me coffe on the way." You smile, putting on your black puffer jacket. "Oh wow, so you're using me now, too?" Ellie laughs. Putting on her jacket and convers. Following you downstairs were you get your keys and your backpack. Stuffing some snacks in for later and handing ellie some too. "Just a little bit" you say making your index and thumb close, just leaving a bit of space between the fingers. "WOW, how could you just admit that so carelessly. Like you for real hurt my feelings, doll." She puts her hand over her heart, acting hurt. You roll your eyes locking the front door. Pulling your jacket closer to your body due to the cold weather.

Climbing onto Ellie's 1967 Ford mustang, you buckle up as ellie round the front of the car to get to the drivers seat.

"I'll get a black coffee,please." You say. Turning on the radio, the Christmas music low as you receive your coffee. You thank ellie before looking at her. You reach over and peck her cheek. She smirks a little blush peeking through. It wasn't a wierd thing to show affection the way you did. It has always been a comfortable friendship you had.

When you finally reach school, ellie walks you to your first class. Her arm thrown over your shoulder keeping you close. As you guys approach the classroom door the warning bell rings, signaling that class is about to start. "Alright, goodbye doll. Don't miss me too much." She hugs you and places a kiss on your head. Walking backwards before shouting,"meet me in the parking lot for dismissal!"

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Your waiting on ellie, sitting down at one of those picnic table outside your school. Listening to music and reading a new book you got, Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas.. yeah a sappich book you're enjoying way too much. Your in the hotel scene.. your so into the book that you don't realize a body next to you. A tap on the shoulder has you jumping. You look to your right, ellie looking at you in adoration. You blush, shutting the book close, before tucking it into your bag. "Hey, doll. What you readin'," That sentence had your heart racing. Your brain was for real going to explode of embarrasment. "Uhh, nothing. Just a new book I got." You state getting up from your spot and walking towards Ellie's car. "Nothing huh? What you hiding, angle?"

All of the sudden you feel your bag being shuffled through. Your heart drops to your ass. You turn around so fast ready to yank back your book. Ellie opens it up to your bookmark, her eyes widen slightly, a smirk coming up to her face. "Wow, I never knew you liked this type of shit. And here I am thinking you're reading some cute romance. You surprise me doll."

A blush creeps up on your cheeks snatching the books aways, keeping it close to your chest. Oh my gosh, that is so embarrassing! You climb into the car. The ride to your house was embarrassing. "If you tell anyone, williams. I will kill you." Your threat just making her smile. You climb out of the car, making your way around it to your front door. "I'll pick you up at 8 later tonight, sweetheart." She winks as she drives off.

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You had just finished your everything shower. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous. You had no idea what you were going to wear, you were infront of your mirror in a matching black underwear set.

You are roaming around in your closet, when you hear your front door unlock. Ellie walks into your room. Caught off guard when she sees you semi naked. She was dressed in a black button up, sleeves rolled up at the elbow, revealing her tattoos, and some washed out jeans with her convers.

She looked good, a little to good.

"Hey, doll. Why aren't you dressed yet?" Her voice coming out as a rasp. She shamelessly checked you out, the way your lace bra did wonders for your breasts, and your black underwear hugging your ass perfectly. You looked like a goddess. You always tend to surprise her, since you never really show your body like that.

"I don't know what to wear," you let out a wine.

"Why don't you wear that?" She points at a glittery black dress layed out in the pile of clothes. It was tight, well fitted, short, and made your cleavage look amazing. It truly did fit you like a glove. Ellie was mesmerized by the way you looked. You finished your makeup, a little smokey eye made them pop out, you had straightened your silky brown hair. You were applying lipgloss when you realized that ellie hadn't removed her eyes from you for a second, causing butterflies in your stomach.

"Okay I'm ready, let's go." You say wrapping the strap of your heel around your ankle. You were so glad you painted your toes two days before. Black made you look good. You felt good about yourself. You felt yourself smile a little when you realized that you and ellie were sort of matching.

"Alright, let's go." She clears her throat, wrapping an arm around your waist. "You look absolutely ravishing, doll" She whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Oh shit, this is going to be a long night.

[ilivingonmyway]

My thought for the month was that Fugi-Dove only climbed the damn-poor tree to try to get Jay's attention.

"If the Ninjas came back to save the world again, Jay will come back to save me. And then we'll finish the villainy course so he can become my new partner!" — Fugi-Dove at some point in Dragons Rising, (probably).

So he climbed the poor-damn tree to call out to Jay. The neighbors were upset and forced him to get down, but he didn't know how to get down alone, so they had to call the Ninjas to get him out. He sulked the rest of the day because it was Kai who rescued him showed up, not Jay he even tried to "scare" Kai away only to keep calling for Jay, claiming that he would come to help him.

For the next 4 weeks he did the same routine. Climb up somewhere and shout out for Jay. Fail in getting his attention and by ended up being rescued by another Ninja. Things only got better when Nya grabbed Fugi-Dove by the collar and told him that Jay wouldn't come to him because he wasn't at the Crossroads, and actually, he was still lost somewhere in the Merged Realms. Fugi-Dove just gave her a sideway glance and walked away defeated. Six hours later the Ninjas received a call saying that Fugi-Dove had climbed another tree again, but now instead of screaming for the Blue Ninja he was crying at the top of his lungs.

I can't say I like the dove-guy, but he has his moments. Sometimes. When he's not being a creepy-half-idiot.

[unusuallysubtext]

Hey, can I request a oneshot where Y/n (Mycroft's spouse) suddenly brought a puppy home; they found the puppy on the sidewalk. They brought the puppy home, cleaned him up, and then went to the pet store to buy supplies like dog food, toys, a bed, and a pad for the puppy to pee or poop on. They returned home with all the supplies.

Mycroft finally arrived home after a long day at work. He found Y/n on the floor and was confused at first until he saw the puppy they were playing with. He was perplexed and definitely against it at first, but a few weeks later, Y/n finds Mycroft in the living room with the puppy on his lap while Mycroft reads his newspaper.

Thank you in advance!

Thank you for your request! Requests are open as of 18/06/2024. Tags at end. To be removed/added to the taglist, send an ask or DM me. Critics welcomed, reblogs appreciated! :)

Today was one of those rare days off you had from work, but as usual, it was never in sync with Mycroft's busy schedule. You had awoken to a cold bed with the sun already beaming through the crack in the curtains. With a sigh, you climbed out of bed and stretched, making your way downstairs. A vase of sunflowers stood on the kitchen counter, a card beside it on top of a box of London’s finest pastries.

Good morning, my love. 

Salon appointment at two p.m. 

Take care of yourself.

Love,

M.H.

You smiled, admiring the set up and the time taken out of Mycroft’s morning. Of course he had booked out an entire salon; nails, hair, facials, drinks…

After getting comfortably dressed (a change from your usual business attire), eager to eat more than a few pastries (it would be unfair to try only a couple, after all), you ran downstairs and popped the kettle on.

As you sipped your tea, you pondered how to spend the rest of your day until a car picked you up at one-thirty. The idea of a long walk around the estate seemed appealing, especially with the rare London sun. 

Spring coat and boots on, you set out for your walk. The streets were quiet unlike the bustling inner city, and she much appreciated the calm; it allowed for decompression after high stress days at your demanding job. As she turned a corner into a small park, she noticed a small bundle of fur huddled in the bushes fronting the blue-painted metal rails. Curiosity piqued, you approached cautiously.

To your surprise, it was a puppy, shivering despite the unusual warmth, alone. You were expecting a rabbit, likely dead after the foxes got to it, not an uncommon sight in this area. The little creature looked up at you with wide, fearful eyes. You kneeled, allowing your hand to be sniffed before you picked it up. Upon further inspection, it was only a couple of weeks old, the size of your hand, and bore no collar.

"Poor thing, you must be freezing," you murmured, stroking its soft fur as you held it close to your chest. "Let's get you home."

She made a quick stop at a nearby pet store and vet clinic, purchasing everything the puppy would need—food, a bed, toys, and a small collar, which you left unetched without a name, only your phone number on the back of the tag. 

By the time she arrived back at the house, her arms were full of supplies, and the puppy seemed much more comfortable in your breast pocket. The clinic had not detected a microchip, making you wonder how long the pup had been outside as you set up a cozy corner in the living room. You watched as the puppy explored its new surroundings, following you with tiny, tentative paw taps to the kitchen, where you poured some water and food into its bowls. 

"Mycroft is not going to like this," you thought out loud with a wry smile, imagining his reaction. But the sight of the puppy, now curled up contentedly in its new bed, made her feel certain she had made the right decision.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of playing with the puppy, canceling your salon appointment and ride through Anthea, and preparing dinner after the pup grew tired enough to fall asleep in its bed. As evening fell, you found yourself anxiously awaiting Mycroft's return, wondering how he would react to your new addition and fearing his disappointment of being unable to enjoy his planned day for you.

The grandfather clock struck once, indicating five-thirty and you arose from the dining table to head to the front door. You opened it to see Mycroft, who was pleasantly surprised at your greeting.

“Good evening, darling. How was your day?” he asked, heading in. His smile immediately turned to scrutiny as he sensed something was wrong. “You didn’t go… Why do you have cat hair on you?” Mycroft asked, looking at you.

“Dog, Mycroft,” you rolled your eyes. You weren’t anxious anymore, just keen to see Mycroft discover what you’d done. You followed him to the living room, where he froze at the sight of the sleeping puppy across from you.

“Y/N, what on earth were you thinking? How will you care for it?” Mycroft cried. He never called you by your name. Only ‘Mr/Miss/Mx L/N’ before marriage, and ‘my love’ and ‘darling’ after.

“Mycroft!” you were taken aback, but still attempted to explain your situation. “She was abandoned on the side of the road, no collar, no chip. I couldn’t leave her there!”

“Do you know how many shelters there are in London? One-thousand-two-hundred-and-twenty-seven! Any one of them would have taken it in.” Mycroft was exasperated. “Y/N, please think before making such decisions…” he trailed off, softening his tone and expression as he caught sight of your teary eyes. He walked to you, touching your cheeks and kissing your forehead. “I love you. I don’t love that,” he indicated to the puppy with his head. “I do not want this matter to cause any stress to our relationship. I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll see what I can do about her as soon as possible.”

You understood where Mycroft was coming from. Both of you worked full-time, and taking care of a puppy who was rapidly transforming into a full-grown dog was like taking care of a toddler. She would need to be trained, spayed, played with for mental stimulation… it was going to be a lot.

While Mycroft showered, you heated up dinner. As the two of you ate, the puppy awoke and padded to the dining room, watching Mycroft curiously. The two of them stared at the other intently, frozen in place, and you watched in amusement. 

That night, you lay in bed on your side against Mycroft’s chest. It was a miracle that the puppy had not followed you upstairs, but was instead sleeping soundly in the living room. 

-

Mycroft had been sitting on the sofa after dinner, reading their mail while she tried to reach the seat beside him. Watching her struggle for a couple of minutes from the corner of his eye, he finally sighed and picked her up. She lay down next to Mycroft’s side, and he begrudgingly had let her. She fell asleep, as Mycroft mumbled, mostly to himself. “You don’t have a name, do you? You are rather annoying, going to places you don’t belong. Sofas are for humans, the dog bed, as implied in the name, is for you.” Mycroft thought for a moment, then chuckled in revelation. “Sheryl.” He seemed pleased with the name.

-

“Mycroft?” you say quietly, unable to see him. The curtains have been drawn for the night, the bed toasty from your combined body heat. 

“Hmm?”

“Are you jealous of her?”

There is a pause. “That is preposterous! Go to sleep,” you can feel him shaking his head as he is ripped from his near sleep.

You smile to yourself, turning around and kissing his cheek before drifting off to sleep.

-

Days went by, and you spent all of your lunch breaks and the extra ten minutes you had in the mornings at work calling animal shelters in London, despite the heartache. It would not be difficult at all to get the pup into one, just inhumane. Unsurprisingly, they were all overcrowded and underfunded. You glanced up from the website you were reading on your phone to the stack of paperwork overshadowed by your boss. You sighed.

“Working, are we, Mr/Mrs/Mx Holmes?” Ms Smallwood sneered, saying your name as if it were sour milk.

“Yes, apologies, ma’am. No excuses,” you said, grabbing a pen and opening the first file. 

Her beady eyes watched you for a moment before huffing and storming out on her four-inch heels.

You shot Mycroft a quick text.

Going to be late, sorry. Lots of paperwork, ughh. Can’t wait to get a transfer. - Y/F/I.H.

Don’t worry, my love. I’ll have dinner and a bath ready. Don’t stress, my darling. I shall see you this evening. - M.H.

You smiled at your husband’s preemptiveness, silently thanking the universe for having him to go home to. 

It was quarter-to-seven when you arrived home. You walked through the hallway past the empty study and dining room, the aroma of dinner making your mouth water. In the living room, you could see Mycroft, engrossed in reading the newspaper… out loud? Mycroft saw you, and hushed you, pointing to the sleeping puppy curled up against his belly. He finished reading one last sentence of today’s headlining news: ‘Two murdered bodies found in abandoned freezer at Wembley Sainsbury’s.’ 

“Goodnight, Sheryl, sleep well,” Mycroft said quietly, putting the newspaper down and patting her gently before picking her up and placing her in her bed. He then walked over to you. “Hello, darling, how was your day?” 

“Sheryl, huh?” you laughed.

“Too late to change it now, I have already had it engraved,” Mycroft said matter-of-factly. “I have already fed her–one cup–walked her around the estate, had her pee, and read her a bedtime story, of course.”

You squealed in joy, engulfing Mycroft in a hug. “We’re keeping her?!”

“Yes, of course we are, darling. How else will I keep in shape?”

“Oh, Mycroft! You’re already perfect. I love you! I can’t believe we get to keep her!”

Every night onwards, Sheryl lay in wait in front of the dinner table for the two of you to finish eating and take her for a walk. She would chase butterflies in the very park she was found in before returning to her home, where Mycroft would read her the headlines and let her pick her bedtime story from the papers. Some days it was stock trading tips, obituaries and juicy celebrity gossip, other days it was how her Uncle Sherlock was saving the arses of the Met Police, and gruesome murder-suicides. Every night, she fell asleep in Mycroft’s lap, even when she grew up to be a huge German shepherd. Every night, you snapped a picture of the two, compiling the photographs into an album that showed how their bond strengthened and their kinship blossomed.

-

Tagging: @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @that-ace-idiot

[blurredcolour]

Lavender's Blue, Lavender's Green

[One-shot]

Lewis Nixon x Enlisted!Female Reader

After you wind up injured in a freak accident, your relationship with Captain Nixon is forever altered.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Minor Reader Injury, Detailed Descriptions of Pain, Language, Alcohol Consumption, Weapons, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Oblique References to Nixon's Alcoholism and Infidelity, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral sex - m/f receiving, unprotected vaginal sex] - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Some liberties were taken in describing reader's family life/personal history for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 8358

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The floorboards creaked beneath your jump boots as you followed O’Keefe into the backroom of the half-destroyed café in Thalem. You could hear the strains of a string quartet rising from the square below, and the conversation between Luz and Nixon a few rooms over. O’Keefe had shown up as a replacement during Easy’s second stay in Mourmelon-le-Grand, wide-eyed and eager to get his hands dirty. The rest of you had just been glad to make it out of Haguenau alive.

But there was something about the naïve boy that reminded you of your little brother back home, the youngest of four siblings born after you, last to join the party, the most eager to experience life when the rest of you were all jaded by the loss of your mother during his birth. Add in the fact that you too had been a replacement once, joined Easy in Aldbourne for Operation Market Garden – one of twenty-seven women selected as the first female paratroopers to join the 506th – and you had felt a certain protectiveness over the kid. Which was why you found yourself watching over him now, even in this relatively harmless town.

Another groan of wood had your eyes flicking to the floor, something about the pitch of the slats not sitting right with you, but before you could open your mouth to warn him, there was an ominous ‘crack’ beneath O’Keefe. He let out a horrific shriek as the boards beneath him began to give way and you lunged forward, snapping out your left hand to grab onto any part of him you could. Seizing him by the back of the collar of his ODs, you landed flat on your stomach with a grunt with O’Keefe dangling through the newly created hole in the floor. Your helmet tumbled from your head, bouncing off his and crashing onto the tiles below.

Your arm was aching under the strain of his body weight but as you tried to spread some of the load onto your second hand, you realized the butt of your rifle was jammed between the floor and your body, pinning your right arm against you by the strap over your shoulder. The sound of multiple sets of boots running into the room was quickly followed by several pairs of hands pressing against your calves, bracing you to keep you from following O’Keefe through the hole.

“I gotta let you go, Patty.” You grit out. “It’s not far, ok?” You assured him, able to see through the ragged gap in the wood that he was dangling only a few feet from the floor below.

His response was not what you were hoping for. “Don’t let me fall!” He cried out, looking up to you with wide, calf-like eyes. “Please don’t let me go!” He began to clutch at your arm, flailing his legs as though he wanted to climb back up.

His body swung like a pendulum, bouncing and jerking before ultimately wrenching your strained shoulder from its socket and careless words born of pain from your lips.

“Augh! Jesus Christ, you fucking meatball! It’s only two feet! Let go!” You cried out, clenching your eyes shut against the blinding pain, your grip failing as your arm started to go numb.

He continued to whimper nonsensically and thrash about as heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs followed by a set of lighter ones.

“Let go of her you fucking meatball!” You heard Perconte snap at O’Keefe from below and cracked your stinging eyes open to see that Bull had seized the boy around the waist, the thrashing finally stilling before the weight of him was released from your limb as, at last, he let go of your arm.

Relief tingled through you, though did nothing to lessen the raw ache in your shoulder. Afraid to move, afraid to inhale more than tiny sips of air lest you fan the flames of pain, you laid perfectly still with your arm outstretched toward the ground below.

“What a fucking meatball.” You heard Luz giggle from behind you as he stepped forward. “Let’s get you up.” His voice grew closer as he leaned forward.

Mortifying as it was, laying there in denial was not going to make the agony end. Taking a shaky breath, you asked quietly. “George, can you go find Doc, please?” You were hoping not to arouse the suspicions of Webster, Liebgott, and Nixon who were somewhere in the room still. At least one pair of hands was still firmly gripping your calves.

“Uh, the meatball is fine, I mean Bull might tear him a new one but…” He trailed off as you turned your head slowly to look up at him, brow furrowing as lances of pain pierced your neck and shoulder. It felt as though someone were pouring boiling water down the sleeve of your uniform.

“For me, please.” You clarified, perspiration dotting your skin under the strain of masking your discomfort.

The room fell silent, whatever Liebgott and Webster had been bickering about forgotten as Luz shoved his way past them and shot out of the room. You felt the pressure against your calves ease up before Nixon was kneeling on the floor next to you, features etched with concern. “Where are you hurt?”

“Left shoulder.” You exhaled, swallowing at the way his eyes ricocheted over your prone form.

“Think you can get up for me?” He asked, his voice enticingly soft, making your heart skip a few beats as you felt suddenly willing to try anything he might ask of you so long as he kept speaking like that.

“Maybe?”

The smile he awarded you with filled your stomach with bubbling effervescence. “Good, let’s get this out of the way first.” He carefully extracted your M1 from beneath your hip before sliding it off your good shoulder, handing it off to one of the other men in the room.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he started to lift your torso from the floor, punching the air from your lungs painfully. Gnawing on the inside of your cheek viciously you did everything you could not cry out in pain. You were not the first woman in Easy to get hurt – Esther had been hit by shrapnel from a tree in Bastogne and Pearl had been shot during Dike’s disastrous assault on Foy. Both had been awarded a purple heart. You were just a girl who’d tried to hold too much weight – there would be no medal for you, so it would be best not to make a scene.

“Shit you must be in so much pain, I’m sorry.” Nixon grumbled, seemingly at a loss as to how to get your arm out of that hole and you into a more comfortable position.

Roe’s voice downstairs broke through the haze of pain, and you clenched your teeth, willing yourself to hold on a little longer as you heard him hurry up the stairs.

“You two, out.” He said firmly to Liebgott and Webster who left without comment before his hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you backwards. “Bend ya knees for me, that’s it, good job.” He spoke calmly as he worked with Nixon to lift you up into a kneeling position well away from the hole in the floor.

As your left arm drooped, your right hand quickly moved to support it in more or less the position it had been when O’Keefe’s movements had pulled it out of place. A millimetre of movement in any direction had you whimpering pathetically in the back of your throat despite your best efforts to keep the sound sealed behind your lips.

“What’s going on?” Roe asked as he knelt in front of you, taking in the way you were supporting your arm before he started to undo your ODs and then your wool shirt beneath.

“It’s my shoulder, Doc.”

He nodded as he carefully pulled open the collar to take a look, his fingers skimming along the skin of your shoulder and the strap of your undershirt. As they honed in on the hollow where your joint ought to be, you let out a yelp and nearly keeled over backward at the searing pain, grateful as Nixon pressed a hand to your lower back to keep you upright.

“Yeah it is. It’s out of joint.” Roe confirmed the sneaking suspicion you’d had.

There had been something agonizingly familiar about the whole thing, taking you back to a hot summer day when you were ten years old, riding your father’s new horse despite his explicit instructions to wait for him to be done in the field before you tried to mount it. The horse’s black coat had shone almost purple in the sunlight of the afternoon, warm to the touch as the barely broken-in animal had suffered no more than one lap around the paddock before bucking you from its back.

The force with which you had struck the ground had dislocated your left shoulder that day, and the drive into town to see the doctor had been a torturous thirty minutes during which every jolt and bump had sent pain shooting through your body. But as soon as the doctor had put it back in place, the relief had been almost immediate.

“You can put it back, right?” You asked hoping to avoid transport somewhere like this.

“Yeah, I can.” Doc smiled softly and started digging through his satchel. “Let’s get ya some morphine first, alrigh’?��

“Wait, don’t, I’ll be useless.” You said sharply. “It’s just going to hurt when you put it back in, right?”

Roe looked to you with wide eyes, hands stilling before his expression hardened a little. “It’s gonna hurt like hell when I put it back in.” He clarified firmly and you felt Nixon’s hand twitch against your back.

“And then after that I’ll be fine.” You insisted bravely.

Nixon sighed your name, and you turned your head too fast, barely stifling a cry of pain behind trembling lips.

“Maybe you should just let Doc give you the morphine.” He said gently.

“No.” You replied stubbornly despite the fact that he was a ranking officer, turning your face back to Roe more carefully this time. “Just get it over with, please.”

Roe sighed heavily at you, muttering bitterly in French. You caught a word that sounded an awful lot like ‘mule’, but before you could question him about it, he set one hand on your bicep and the other on your forearm. A noise of pain snuck past your lips unbidden, and you clamped your free hand over your mouth as he shot you a knowing look.

“Yer gonna yowl like a goddamn alley cat, take tha morphine.”

You glared up at him stubbornly until he started to move again, bending your arm at the elbow before slowly pushing your bicep in to press along at your ribs. You let out a sob of agony against your palm, aware that the murmur of conversation downstairs had faded away, but helpless to quell your involuntary reactions to Roe’s manipulations of your limb.

You felt Nixon shift at your side, watched his knee slot between yours before he carefully cupped the back of your head to guide your face to press against his neck. Your hand fell to your lap as you burrowed into the collar of his ODs, cheek pressed against his skin, the fabric of his uniform doing a much better job of muffling the sounds of pain spilling from you. His hand sought yours between your bodies, clasping your forearm, and you gripped his tightly in return as Roe turned your left arm out from your body at a ninety-degree angle before pulling downward on your bicep.

A tremendous wail wrenched from your throat with enough force that you anticipated the taste of blood before an audible ‘clunk’ sounded from your left shoulder, resonating through your torso as your joint slid home. The tension melted from your body in an instant as the pain left you, replaced by nothing more than a dull discomfort, slumping against Nixon to take a few deep breaths. Long enough to note the hint of cedar in his aftershave before you remembered yourself.

You had found Captain Nixon handsome from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him, but as he was a married officer with an English mistress you’d also gone above and beyond to steer clear of that mess. Unfortunately, it had done little to dull your body’s natural response to his presence.

Straightening quickly, you frowned to see you’d left wet patches of tear drops on his collar, releasing his hand as though it burned you to try and brush them off.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He assured you warmly and you swallowed thickly, shuffling back a little to turn to Roe.

“Thanks Doc.” You frowned to see him pulling out a sling.

“Jus’ for a few days, can’t have it slippin’ back out.” Roe muttered and unceremoniously wrapped it under your left elbow before tying it behind your neck. “I’ll let Cap’n Speirs know yer on ligh’ duties, he’ll probably send ya up ta Major Winters as a runnah.”

You let out a sigh of relief as hopefully that meant no aid station, no getting separated from the company and lost in some replacement depot. Looking down you frowned at how open the collars of your shirt and OD jacket were and began trying to reassemble yourself one-handed.

“Here.” Nixon offered softly and carefully buttoned you back up to where you usually wore your uniform before he pushed himself to his feet, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you up as well. “Ok?” He asked and you nodded, trying not to notice the way the warmth of his body seeped through your clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” You said quietly and he nodded warmly in reply.

Grabbing his things, he gestured for you to lead the way out of the room, following close behind. As you reached the main floor, Luz held out your helmet which you took with a nod of thanks, putting it on your head before retrieving your rifle from Liebgott. You could hear Perconte continuing to give O’Keefe shit outside and you frowned deeply, making a beeline for the sound of his voice.

“Hey! I’m fucking fine, knock it off.” You barked tersely before you were beckoned over by Captain Speirs.

The sound of an explosion further up the road had your eyes fluttering open, the ruined village of Thalem dissolving into the sun-drenched back of a transport truck parked on the autobahn in Bavaria just outside the SS resort town of Berchtesgaden that 2nd Battalion was supposed to be taking. You’d been sitting here for at least twenty minutes now, the road blocked by a no-doubt man made rockslide that so far had proven impervious to everything the mortar boys had thrown at it.

Just what had pulled your thoughts back to that afternoon several weeks past you couldn’t say, though it was not the first time you had found your mind wandering there during a lull in activity. In fact, it had become harder and harder to find a time when you were not thinking about Nixon, much to your chagrin. It was not good for your health, even though his impending divorce had become very public knowledge nearly two months ago.

A palpable tension had been born between the two of you that day in Thalem, something you were certain others could sense as you’d spent two weeks at Battalion HQ, running into him more often than ever before. Averted gazes, stiffened postures, cleared throats – neither of you quite knew how to behave around each other anymore when interaction had been so natural and inconsequential before. Something had been changed that day in the café and there was no going back to the way it had been previously.

Shifting higher on the wooden bench you noted a couple of the guys in your platoon were dozing in the truck with you but everyone else seemed to have emptied out to watch impatiently as though the pressure of the entire battalion’s eyes might send the rocks cascading the rest of the way down the mountainside. The scuff of jump boots on pavement pulled your attention to the rear of the vehicle and you smiled to see O’Keefe approaching.

“Hey Patty, got tired of watching the blast boys?” You smirked and offered him a hand to pull him up, swallowing at his hesitation. “Come on, I’m fine I told you.” You chided gently.

He took it carefully and allowed you to help him into the truck and that’s when you noticed his helmet tucked under his arm, filled with wildflowers of all sorts of colours. Your breath hitched in your throat as the sight smacked of summertime at home, a dart of nostalgia and longing piercing through the layers of armor you had carefully layered over your heart to make it through this war.

His eyes followed yours and he beamed as he plonked down on the bench beside you. “There’s tons of ‘em just growing alongside the road. I thought you might like some.”

Looking to him softly you took his proffered helmet, setting it in your lap as you looked them all over, picking up a particularly vibrant purple one. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” You murmured distantly, practically transported by something so simple as wildflowers.

“Do you think that one is lavender?”

A snort from the back of the truck announced Liebgott’s return and you glanced over to see him leaning against the grill of the transport parked behind yours.

“Lavender grows in France, not Bavaria.” Webster corrected O’Keefe, tucking his notebook into his pocket before hopping up to sit on the bench across from the pair of you.

“Isn’t there that song about lavender, though? Lavender’s purple, billy billy?” Perconte squeezed in beside O’Keefe, crowding his personal space.

Ignoring their usual antics, you smiled softly to yourself, hands began to move from muscle memory as plucking the longest stemmed flower you could find before carefully winding the purple flower around it, repeating the process over and over as you started to sing.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green”

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s the song!” O’Keefe declared brightly.

“Shut the fuck up, meatball.” Perconte hissed through gritted teeth, elbowing him sharply so you would keep singing.

“When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so ‘Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so”

Unaware that your voice was carrying across the rockface of the mountainside, you were lost in the chain of flowers you were weaving from O’Keefe’s helmet, the verses coming back to you easily after years of singing them to your younger siblings.

“Call up your men, dilly dilly, put them to work Some to the plow, dilly dilly, some to the fork Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corn While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm”

A hush fell over the valley, even the mortar team ceasing their attempts to break through. It was not the first time they’d heard you sing, you knew all the verses to ‘Blood on the Risers’ and happily shouted them along with the rest of the Company, but it was the first time you’d sung in such a feminine way before. You’d found the most expedient way to integrate into Easy was to be one of the boys, yet here you were, reminding each and every one of them that you were a woman.

“Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm’s way

I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing When I am queen, dilly dilly, you’ll be my king Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so”

As you finished the song, you curled the chain of blooms into a circle and wove it closed with several stems before turning to place it on O’Keefe’s head, blinking as it slipped down over his eyes. A chorus of harsh laughter at his expense broke out around you and you huffed in annoyance.

“Oh shoot, Patty, I put too many flowers in there, sorry about that. I’ll make you a new one.” You gently pried it off his head, setting the large crown aside before setting to work on a smaller one as the sound of a jeep could be heard coming up the road.

You’d barely put the finishing touches on the smaller crown of flowers when Speirs was ordering everyone to form up into their platoons and O’Keefe had to vanish. Mortifyingly, you found yourself standing on the pavement with both circlets clasped carefully in your hand, somehow loathe to leave them in the transport truck to be trampled but also aware that you couldn’t just carry them with you.

“Captain Nixon can look after those for you, Corporal.” Major Winters voice cut through the din of soldiers tramping back and forth to collect their gear and get ready. You turned to see him grinning at you from where he stood leaning against his jeep.

Nixon, for his part, was staring at you with an unreadable look on his face – Confusion? Bewilderment? Shock? Whatever it was it made you want to duck your head shyly, an impulse which you fought hard against as you hustled over to hold out your handmade treasures.

“Thank you very much, sir.” You murmured quietly, swallowing as he hesitated a moment before taking them gingerly, as if they were made of spun glass, while Major Winters watched on with a broad grin. “Sirs.” You saluted and hurried back to your platoon, not wanting to be the cause of any further delay, but still unable to put your finger on just what Nixon’s expression had been.

As it turned out you had quite a bit of time to puzzle it over. After securing the town without incident and cheering on the select few who made it up to the Eagle’s Nest, you ended up on a patrol under Major Winters where he discovered the ruins of Herman Goering’s hunting lodge. Left on guard duty overnight with Patty, you let him ramble on about all the things he wanted to see and do now that the war in Germany was practically over while you quietly tried to decipher the enigma that was Nixon.

Straightening from your lean against the stucco wall as you heard the sound of an engine approaching down the rather rough road, you swallowed painfully to see the man himself, posture quite relaxed as he cradled an open bottle of champagne.

“What is this place?” He asked as he climbed from the vehicle, dressed only in the wool shirt and pants of his uniform.

“Herman Goering’s house, we discovered it yesterday. Had it on double guard ever since.” Major Winters replied.

You nodded in greeting as they walked past you, though Nixon’s sunglasses made it even more impossible to interpret his mood than that last time you’d seen him.

“I can vouch for that, sir.” O’Keefe interjected quickly and you tried not to wince at his endearing awkwardness.

“Oh, anxious to get off duty, O’Keefe?” Winters taunted him.

“No, there’s just so much to see and do, sir.” The boy replied honestly, and you heard Nixon scoff under his breath as Winters unlocked the door.

“Heya meatball.” Nixon grinned in greeting as he followed Winters through the door and down the stairs and that time you really did wince.

O’Keefe looked at you hopefully and you motioned with your head for him follow them, knowing full well his curiosity must be eating him alive. Listening to the wind rustling in the trees, you sighed quietly, soaking in the peace of the moment before Winters made his way back up the stairs with O’Keefe, the boy yanking you into a hug.

“Victory in Europe! The Germans surrendered!” He crowed and you stared at him, stunned speechless for a moment before you hugged him back.

Major Winters chuckled behind him before nodding to you in confirmation, making you realize the bewildered expression that must have been on your face. You pulled back to slap O’Keefe on the shoulder with a grin.

“Gotta go get the others, there is so much booze down there!” He was vibrating with excitement.

Glancing over your shoulder towards the stairs you raised your eyebrows curiously.

“Go take a look, Corporal.” Winters nodded encouragingly before climbing into his jeep with O’Keefe and pulling out.

Hitching your rifle higher on your shoulder you carefully made your way down the stairs, mind still swirling with the news, fingertips buzzing with an odd energy you weren’t quite certain what to do with. As you stepped through the open gate into the expansive wine cellar, stocked from floor to ceiling, your eyes widened, trying to take it all in.

“What’s your favorite drink?” Nixon’s question interrupted your moment of shock, and you looked over to where he stood amid countless bottles of a richly colored red wine.

“Gin.” You replied walking further into the space, sliding your helmet from your head as he made a thoughtful noise in reply before beginning to hunt through row on row of bottles. You unshouldered your rifle to set the butt on the floor, leaning the barrel against a stack of crates before setting your helmet on top of them.

Gnawing on your lip you turned back to admire the intensity with which Nixon approached his task before a small cry of triumph escaped his lips and he pulled a green bottle from the corner, holding it out to you as he approached like the conquering hero. You could not stop the grin that tugged at your lips as you took it from him, looking over the unfamiliar label.

“Genever, from Holland. The precursor to gin. It should do.” He nodded with a self-satisfied smile.

“Thank you, Captain Nixon.” You replied warmly, doubting you’d need a whole bottle to yourself but still appreciating the gesture as you slid it into the jacket pocket of your ODs.

“Can you do me a favor?” He tilted his head.

“Sir?” You stood a little straighter.

“Call me Lewis.” He requested softly, his rich brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light of the cellar.

Swallowing roughly, your heart began to beat a little faster at the intimacy of his request as your mind flitted back to his earlier arrival.

“Only if you’ll do something in return?” You asked slowly.

“What’s that?” He leaned in, the sweetness of champagne still lingering on his breath.

“Can you stop calling O’Keefe ‘meatball’?” You tensed in anticipation of his reaction, your heart plummeting through the concrete floor when he recoiled as if you’d struck him. Guilt bloomed bitterly in your chest, a new crop to go alongside the one you had planted that day in Thalem. “Every time someone says it, I’m reminded of the worst thing I ever said to him.” You rushed to explain your request, cautiously optimistic as his gaze slowly returned to your face. “It…wasn’t his fault he panicked. I never should have spoken to him that way.”

Nixon’s brows furrowed a moment in consideration of your request. “You really care for the kid, don’t you.” He sounded resigned and you found yourself blinking at him stupidly as he made his way back over to continue perusing the shelves.

Slowly, your brain began to process the slump of his shoulders, the forced nonchalance as he examined various labels and added choice bottles to a wooden crate at his feet.

Could he possibly be… No, that seemed utterly improbable… and yet…

All that aside, it seemed as though it could not hurt to clarify your relationship with O’Keefe. “Reminds me of my kid brother, sir.”

Nixon raised his head slowly, turning back to look at you. “Like a brother…” He said thoughtfully and you bobbed your head in agreement. “Well, I suppose I can stop in that case then.” He smirked and you exhaled with a warm smile.

“Thank you very much, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked down his nose at you expectantly.

“Thank you very much, Lewis.” You amended, pressing your lips together as they hummed in pleasure at forming his name.

Lewis’s lips stretched into a lopsided grin as he eyed you warmly for a few moments before turning back to the task at hand, filling the crate and adding it to a growing stack by the entrance before grabbing another one to repeat the process. Shaking your head, you perched a hip onto one of the tables behind you, eyes scanning the room, reflecting on its previous owner, surprised at the sudden tightness in your throat as you remembered the fresh news of the German surrender. Clearly it was going to take some time to sink in, and frequent reminders, but the tears that were threatening to well in your eyes needed to be quashed until you could find a quiet place to unleash them as silently as possible.

Partly out of a desire to simply say his name again, and largely out of a need to distract yourself from the rising tide of your own emotions, you called out to him softly again. “Hey Lewis?”

“Hmmm?” He replied and you found yourself taking far too much pleasure in how quickly he turned back to you.

“I, uh, I was sorry to hear about your dog.” You said meaningfully, that tightness in your throat returning with a vengeance when an unveiled look of fragility overtook his features.

For the first time in nearly a month you were utterly convinced of how Lewis was feeling and more than anything you thought the man was in dire need of a hug. Before your brain even registered you were moving, your feet propelled you across the floor to wrap around arms around him, pulling him close. Almost immediately his arms slid around you tightly in return, one hand clinging to your shoulder as the other pressed some unknown bottle into your lower back, his face burrowing into your neck.

Tightening your embrace, you held him warmly, almost a mirror image of how he had held you in Thalem. You were completely oblivious to the traitorous tears that had snuck down your cheeks until Lewis was pulling back, setting the bottle of liquor aside to cradle your jaw and swipe at them with his thumbs.

“It’s a hell of a dog, but not worth you crying over.” He teased gently and you rolled your eyes, mostly in frustration at yourself, shaking your head as you sniffed.

“Is this…really all over?” You whispered in disbelief, and he pressed his forehead to yours gently as he nodded.

“We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harms way.” He uttered and you let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, burying your face into his shoulder as he pulled you tightly against him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, unable to stop the flood of tears now that they had snuck past your defences, each shake of your frame somehow causing Lewis to hold you tighter as though he might prevent you from crumbling to pieces. The bottle of genever pressed between your bodies almost painfully, digging into your hip, giving you something tangible to focus on as you reined in your shuddering breaths, lifting your head slowly.

“God, I got your uniform all wet again.” You said, voice thick with the aftereffects of your breakdown and he shook his head as you wiped at his collar with your sleeve.

“It’ll dry just fine.” He repeated his assurance from the café with a smirk, and you gave him a watery laugh, wiping at your face roughly.

“Trooper, is that a bottle of Dutch-gin in your pocket or…” He grinned deviously and your jaw dropped before you smacked his shoulder playfully as a peal of laughter escaped your lips.

You shuffled back to put a proper amount of space between your bodies though you noted his one hand remained splayed upon your back. The one that had previously been at nape of your neck dropped to retrieve the bottle from your pocket. “If anyone is in need of a celebratory drink, it’s definitely you.” He murmured gently.

He tilted it towards you, and you reached forward to tug at the red ribbon as he held the bottle steady, breaking the wax seal over the cork. You let the debris fall to the ground before unsealing the cork with a promising ‘pop.’ You scoffed in playful protest as Lewis helped himself to first sip before setting the genever in your outstretched hand. Taking a swig, you blinked at the complexity of it compared to the dry gin you were accustomed to in England or back home. It burned its way down your throat into your empty stomach, igniting a warm glow from within.

A few rogue droplets had been left on your lips, but before you had the chance to swipe your tongue out to collect them, Lewis’s fingertips were tracing along the sensitive flesh. Your breath caught in your throat at the way his eyes were focused on your mouth as he worked at gathering every bit of liquid whilst also tracing the fullness of your lips before lifting his fingertips to suck them clean. Dizzy from lack of oxygen, Lewis’s proximity, and the way his eyes were now boring into yours, you swallowed tightly as his hand pressed tighter to your back, pulling you closer once more. His lips had barely brushed against yours when a host of voices sounded at the top of the staircase.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He swore against your mouth before you darted back out of his grip, chest heaving as you shoved the cork into the bottle of genever and returned it to your pocket forcefully. You quickly began to look for something to be doing with yourself.

“I’ll start loading these into the jeep, Captain?” You asked, voice tight as a bow string and all he managed in response was a dazed nod as you quickly scooped up one of the crates filled with his choice of bottles, nodding to the newest crop of arrivals on your way up the staircase.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you set the crate into the back of the jeep Winters had left for you and O’Keefe during guard duty, trying to take deep breaths of fresh air to clear your head. Christ that had been close…close to being caught…close to kissing Lewis…You sunk your teeth into your lower lip trying to smother the broad grin that threatened to unfurl on your features. There were far too many people about now to be grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Fishing your canteen from your webbing, you took a deep sip of water before smoothing your hands over your uniform and, feeling somewhat collected, returned to the cellar to move more crates.

Lewis seemed to have regained control of his senses, not that you dared to look at him, but his directions rang out through the cellar to load most of the wine into the trucks that men has just arrived with for the enjoyment of the officers while you continued carting his personal stash up the stairs until the jeep was full to bursting. All in all, he claimed five truckloads for himself and the officers of 2nd battalion. You rode backwards in the jeep, doing your best to stabilize the crates over the rough track back into town, doing your utmost to ignore his proximity in the vehicle.

A very warm welcome awaited your return to the lavish hotel where the officers were billeted, and many hands made short work of unloading all those trucks so they might make another trip for the rest of the men. By the time you’d made your way to Lewis’s room with the last of his crates, there was barely space to move for all the alcohol stashed within. No more than a small walking path from the door to the bed, if you were being honest.

“This is the last of it, sir.” You said as you looked around for a spot to put it and he looked to you sharply.

“We talked about this…” He teased, shuffling forward to grab it from you, hoisting it over to another corner of the room but you barely heard him as your eyes fell onto the two flower crowns sitting on the window ledge beside the bed.

“You kept them?” You breathed in amazement.

He looked to you before following your gaze and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was told to look after them for you.”

Picking your way across the floor carefully, you knelt on the bed with your boots hanging off the edge behind you, smiling softly to see they were a little dried out but truly no worse for wear. “You did an excellent job of it, Lewis.” You barely whispered his name aware the door was still open.

Setting your rifle on the floor at the foot of the bed, you put your helmet on the ledge before picking up the larger crown, rolling onto your hip and then onto your butt on the mattress in time to see him closing the door. “I’d bet money this fits you.” You smiled softly.

“Save your money, I already know.” He grinned, ducking down beneath the circlet of flowers before straightening with it perched atop his dark hair.

Your eyes widened in delight. “It fits perfectly.” Your fingers gently straightened it, unable to ignore the softness of his chocolate strands at they brushed against your fingers.

Lewis’s gaze flicked to your lips briefly before looking back to your eyes and you took a slow breath before trailing your hands down to frame his face, enjoying the slight scratch of his stubble against your palms. “Lewis…” You exhaled, and he surged forward to seal his lips against yours firmly.

He settled onto his knees before you, hands gripping your waist as you parted your legs and dropped a hand to his back to urge him closer. Needing no further invitation, he scooted forward, pressing against you as his tongue licked its way into your mouth. You weren’t quite sure who started it, but your fingers were a flurry of activity, pulling at the buttons of each others’ uniforms. All he managed to reveal was the wool shirt you wore underneath, your webbing dangling limply from your shoulders, while you found his bare chest. Growing impatient, Lewis tugged your shirt and undershirt free of your pants and ODs until he was able to slide his hand against the soft skin of your abdomen, making your lips fall back from his with a whimper.

“Damn it why are you wearing so many clothes…” He growled and you pressed your face against his hair to smother your laugh, knocking the flower crown askew.

“Some of us were on duty today.” You muttered back, nipping at the shell of his ear before pushing his shirt from his shoulders, letting your hands skate along his back.

Leaning forward, he pushed you back into the mattress, nipping and sucking his way along your jaw before he methodically began to remove your layers of clothing and webbing, starting with a ruthless tugging on your boot laces, until you were left in your army issue brassiere and underwear. To say that they left a lot to be desired in terms of style was an understatement, but the reverence in his gaze as his eyes raked over his hard-won reward soothed your ego somewhat. Plucking the crown from his head, you tossed it gently onto the windowsill before hugging his hips with your knees and rolling him onto his back intent on returning the favour, your dog tags jangling against his in a metallic collision.

As you tried to slide down to reach the laces of his boots, however, he grunted in denial, hauling you in for a hungry kiss as he pulled your pelvis snug against his, making you inhale sharply through your nose at the feel of his hard length against you. “Gotta get your pants off, Lew.” You tried to speak but he kept interrupting you with brushes of his lips or darts of his tongue into your mouth. Huffing slightly, you rocked forward against him firmly, making yourself shudder, but you managed to get his attention as his head fell back, eyes staring up at you half-lidded, jaw slack in a silent moan. “Gonna start with your boots and then I’m gonna get your pants off.”

“And then you’ll do that again…” He breathed and you nodded licking your lips as he released your hips.

You were admittedly not nearly as efficient as him, fingers made clumsy with want, but through persistence you prevailed in removing his boots, pants, and boxers, adding them to the scattered heap of clothing on the small patch of floor. Skimming your hands up his bare legs you revelled in the way he trembled slightly, sitting up to watch you impatiently as you made your way up from the floor. Halting your progress a moment, you ducked your head to lick a warm, wet stripe along the needy length of his cock where it stood proud against his lower abdomen, drawing a shaky cry of your name from his lips that convinced you to linger between his thighs a little longer.

Wrapping your fingers around him, you swirled your tongue around the tip before slowly sliding his length into your mouth, watching his cheeks flush and eyes flutter close as he wrenched at the bedding violently.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” He panted, his abdominal muscles flexing erratically.

Smile curling around him, you dragged your lips up his length only to sink your mouth back down onto him, covering the last bit you couldn’t manage with your fist, allowing your saliva to run freely.

“Christ you’re good at that.” There was the edge of a whine to his voice and suddenly he was pulling your mouth from him, chest heaving. “Keep that up and this’ll be over before it begins…” He muttered and sat up, gripping your hips to guide you onto the bed properly.

His lips latched onto nipple through the thin cotton of your bra before you could open your mouth to apologize, making your hips buck up against his stomach greedily as your fingers delved into his hair. Pulling the cup down he laved his tongue along the sensitive peak, before shifting his attentions to its partner, your soft sighs of pleasure filling the room. Sliding his hands to your back, he guided you up to sit before making quick work of the hook and eye closure between your shoulder blades, tossing your bra aside onto a crate of liquor before pressing you back down into the mattress with a kiss to your sternum, just above where your dog tags rested against your bare skin.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them over your hips and down your legs before they too were unceremoniously tossed aside. “Goddamn sweetheart you are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your knee before he hooked it over his shoulder as he came to rest on his stomach between your legs.

“Lew I…” You started to protest, embarrassed about the fact that you hadn’t seen a shower in a few days, but the words died on your lips as his fingers ran through your slick folds.

“You’re so wet, did I make you this wet?” He murmured in awe, and you nodded slowly, his answering grin almost blinding in its intensity. “Well, best not let it go to waste.” Lewis winked before sealing his mouth over your core, sucking the very breath from your lungs as his tongue delved hungrily to find your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Throwing your arm over your mouth, you smothered a harsh curse of delight into the crook of your elbow as he slung his forearm across your hips to pin them down so he might better intensify the level of pleasure he was dealing you as his tongue plunged into your heat. His nose took over the stimulation of your clit, while the stubble on his cheeks and jaw made your inner thighs tremble. The sounds he was making between your legs were positively lewd and only heightened the swirling headiness that wrapped around you. You clung to his hair as he began to suck on your clit, making you see stars behind your clenched eyelids, every exhale an eager moan or keen smothered against your skin.

Lewis’s hand slid up along your side to cup your breast, his fingers shifting to pinch and roll at your nipple, vaulting you over the edge as you rambled his name over and over. The tension of ecstasy slowly ebbed from your body, and he lifted his head with a broad grin, swiping at his upper lip with his thumb before sucking it clean. “Someday I’m gonna do that somewhere so remote you can scream at the top of your lungs.” He nuzzled your hair, pressing his lips to your ear as you laughed breathlessly.

“You sound so certain…” You teased, but he merely raised an eyebrow in response, his palm cupping your still-sensitive core, making your eyes roll back in your head.

“I am, yes. Certain that I can make you cum with my hands, my mouth, my cock. Certain that I’d like the opportunity to do so again and again…” You forced your eyes open to look over his features slowly.

“Yeah?” You exhaled, not quite sure what you had been expecting when you fell into bed with him, just knowing it was what you had wanted above all else in that moment.

“Yeah, sweetheart, until you’re sick of me.” He kissed you gently, the salty tang of your release still on his lips.

Gripping the back of his head, you returned the kiss hungrily, shifting your hips to rock up against his length, swallowing his ragged moan as you finally fulfilled your promise to repeat that motion. “Show me.” You whispered, aching to feel him inside you.

Lewis exhaled hotly against your lips before shifting his hips back, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before he rocked forward to slowly sink into you. He sealed his mouth over yours almost painfully as you whimpered hungrily, his own rumble of pleasure reverberating through your chest. His head fell to rest against your collarbone, his breath caressing your skin once he was fully seated inside you, unmoving.

“Lew…” You whimpered softly, digging your fingers into his shoulders, writhing against him slightly.

“I know, sweetheart just…fuck you’ll be my undoing…” He whispered before he kissed you fiercely, pulling his hips back only to thrust forward once more, earning a moan of delight from you.

Your bodies began the push and pull of carnal pleasure, moving in tandem as though this were your hundredth coupling rather than your first. Grasping your knee, Lewis hiked it higher on his hip, angling his thrusts deeper into your willing body, making you toss your head to the side as you clenched your jaw against the desire to wail in delight.

“Wish I could…hear you so fucking badly…” He grit out before grasping your chin and turning your face back so he could press his mouth to yours as he rut against you firmly, his pubic bone grinding against your clit deliciously.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, the vicious undertow nearly obliterating your ability to think as Lewis quickly pulled out from your convulsing warmth to release across your abdomen with an agonized groan that was admittedly less than concealed before he collapsed onto the bed at your side. The pair of you lay there, speechless, covered in a sheen of sweat, chests heaving with frantic breaths before he shifted to feather soft kisses along the side of your face, reaching for a weathered scrap of green cloth that served as an army handkerchief to wipe your skin clean.

The ferocious growl your stomach emitted in the relative silence of the room had you tense as Lewis cracked up. “Sweetheart when was the last time you ate?”

“Oh, Christ I don’t know…” You muttered, covering your face with both hands in mortification.

Laughing richly, he kissed your knuckles before forcing himself up. “Alright, ok. Food. I’m going to find you some food. And then I’m going to spend the rest of this night right here in this bed with you, so don’t you go anywhere.” He looked down at you with playful seriousness as he stepped into the pants of your ODs, ruining the effect. “Shit.” He muttered.

Giggling into your palm, you shook your head before sighing as you pulled the blankets over your bare skin, feeling the chill of the mountain air now that he’d taken his body heat away from you. “Hey Lew?”

He looked to you quickly, nearly dressed – in his own clothes this time. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’ll be here.” You smiled warmly, the stretch of your lips only widened by the grin of glee he directed at you before climbing back into bed to kiss you warmly. Your poor, empty digestive system growled insistently, and he huffed against your lips.

“Alright, fine…I’ll be back with food.” Lewis kissed your cheek before sliding into his jump boots and stepping out with his laces untied in search of sustenance for you both, fully intent on not making another public appearance until the next morning.

-------------------------

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @fuckoffthanos

[anystalker707]

What do you think?

Pairing: Nami x [gender-neutral] Reader Kinktober prompt: Face sitting Tags: Oral / Dom-Sub undertones (if you squint)

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          Nami was standing in the quarters, trying on the new clothes she’d bought on the last island while you lay on her bed, checking the sketchbook you’d found around on her bed. It had some maps on it along with a few notes. Robin wasn’t around, so she insisted you be in the quarters with her while she tried new stuff.

“What about this one?” She asked, still standing in front of that mirror, turning from side to side to check on the shirt from different angles—she needed to make sure it looked fine.

You glanced away from the sketchbook; it was a red shirt with a flower print. “Not bad,” you muttered.

Although Nami asked for your opinion on everything, she would always wear and do whatever you wanted, so you didn’t put too much effort into giving your opinions until she made a choice, depending on the situation. The problem, however, was that Nami seemed to want you to give her all the compliments on Earth despite the fact you already pampered her.

“You’re not even looking!” She scowled as she turned to you, hands on her hips.

“I am!”

“Then what am I wearing? Tell me without looking!”

A sigh escaped your lips. You didn’t need to look, either way. “White slippers, light blue jeans shorts, red shirt with the plumeria print, and golden chain, aside from your usual bracelets.”

Nami was silent as her eye twitched, and she groaned while walking over to you, removing her slippers as she climbed on the bed. “It’s not like that, and you know it very well!” She was straddling your hips and holding you up by your collar, so you put the book down. “I need your honest opinion on everything, I can’t go around looking like I assassinated fashion!” She shook you back and forth.

“Oh, so my fashion opinions are that good?” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Hm…” Nami paused and thought, now just resting her hands on your chest instead of holding your collar. “Not really, but—”

“Yeah, of course.” You rolled your eyes.

“But,” she reinforced, “it’s always good having a second opinion, y’know? Even more from my sweet partner!” Her lips curled into a smile as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, chuckling despite the way you glared at her. “Do you like this outfit?”

There you go again.

“Well, I preferred the gray skirt, y’know? It looked cute.”

Nami was already scrunching her nose, of course. “Well, that one, um, it has potential, but it’s also kinda uncomfortable, so I think I’m donating it as well.”

“Right,” you sighed, placing your hands on her hips and then patting her thighs gently. “Yeah, okay, this short isn’t that bad.”

“Yeah,” Nami hummed. “Still a little uncomfortable, though. I’ve seen better.” She pulled back a little, running her tongue between her lips as she pulled her hair behind her shoulders. “Wanna see something else I got, though? It’s even better.” Pride glinted on her smile as she pulled back and got off the bed for a moment.

You raised your eyebrows, holding back a sigh. “How many clothes did you get?” The question was rhetorical, honestly—you were used to how she’d buy piles of it at once.

“No, no! You’ll like this one!” A chuckle escaped her lips as she unbuttoned her shorts and just let them drop to the ground before she placed her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one of her legs and letting her hip pop out. “So? What do you think?”

Well, damn, that really shut you up. The panties Nami wore were red and had some frills, and a tiny golden pendant hung from the middle of the waistband that went all the way up to her hips. Her pussy looked so fat in that. You gulped.

“Oh, yeah,” You mumbled, propping up on your elbows and clearing your throat—it was hard getting your eyes off her. “Well, that’s just perfect.”

“Not too tight?” Nami teased as she slowly got on the bed again. You held on to her thighs, but it was brief; she kept moving up until she was right above you, in a way you had to lay back against the bed again. “I think you need to take a closer look.”

Fuck, she was so close, already making your mouth water. It was difficult to pull your eyes away from her, the way her pussy’s shape was so obvious through the thin fabric. Her ass, too, you could see her ass now. Shit. She shifted a little, and it was a clear signal after being with her for all this time.

You held on to Nami’s thighs to carefully pull her down—she raised an eyebrow, hands on the headboard as she glanced down at you, biting her lip. She made sure she lowered herself right on top of you. A soft groan escaped your lips when her pussy finally pressed to your mouth, hot and nice. Even with the fabric on the way, you were turned on the same, feeling your heart start to beat faster as you pressed your lips to her and started mouthing at her through the panties.

Nami sighed as she relaxed a little, finding a comfortable position that didn’t demand a lot of strength from her while you kept mouthing at her through the underwear.

“Mmph, feels good,” Nami whispered as she gently pushed her hips more against you. “But you can do better, right? I know you can make me feel better, you know how to please me so well,” she whispered.

You couldn’t resist those words; they hit you straight in the gutter, and she really could touch you or something, right? She probably wouldn’t. She was too cruel for that, and unfortunately, you loved that.

Your mouth kept working at Nami through the fabric, forming a wet spot that was both a mix of her fluids and your spit, and her breath already sounded a little out of pace.

It was easy exposing her cunt to you—your finger hooked around the band of her panties to pull it to the side, and your mouth was pressing to her pussy in no time. A louder, higher-pitched moan came from Nami with the way your mouth pressed fully to it, licking from her entrance to her clit, where you let your tongue circle and press down. Nami groaned with it, thighs quivering under your hands.

You somewhat wished you could say something, tell Nami how good she felt, but she’d probably complain and tell you to keep your mouth busy, so you didn’t stop. Your lips latched around her clit, sucking on it, then nipping on her labia before your tongue trailed down to push into her.

“Mm, you’re doing so well,” Nami moaned, one of her hands traveling down to run her fingers through your hair before taking hold of your strands.

The way you hummed against her made Nami moan again, her hips shifting as you kept eating her pussy so nice and good, pushing your tongue as deep as you could inside her, tasting her, while your nose sometimes brushed against her clit. Shiver sparkled down her spine with the way your tongue lapped at her insides, but her back was fucking arching when you licked up to her clit, giving it a little attention again. Your teeth tugged gently on her folds, sometimes sucking on the skin gently, just trying to give her a little while to recover before your lips were sealed around her clit again.

Nami was loud, letting the sounds just spill from her mouth as you sucked her clit and trailed your tongue around it just the way that she liked, sometimes pressing a kiss to the swollen and abused nub. Your tongue ran flat against her clit, making her thighs quiver again.

“Like that,” Nami groaned as she tugged on your hair, nails scratching your scalp a little. “More,” she whispered, rolling her hips against your mouth.

It was difficult to coordinate it at first, with her pussy messily pressing against your mouth, but you soon found a rhythm, mouthing at her pussy whenever it came closer. Given how you were drooling and her wetness, you could feel the mix trailing down a corner of your mouth. Your jaw also ached a little from being held open and all the strength you were using, but that was a mere detail. She tasted so good, you fucking loved it.

Your fingers sunk into her thighs trying to keep her in place so that you could suck her clit, but just until she was on the edge, her hips stuttering with the pleasure that was building up into something greater and so quickly. You gripped on to her tighter to really keep her still at least while you tongued inside her. Her hold tightened around your hair without actually tugging on it a lot, and her hips stilled, thighs quivering as she finally came.

“Mmph, fuck,” Nami gasped, weakly rolling her hips into your mouth until the throbbing between her legs became more sporadic, still using your mouth as she rode down from her high. She groaned, letting you continue to suck on her clit until the first tinge of overstimulation kicked in. It took her a moment, and she was finally pulling away—you took in a deep breath as if remembering you could breathe freely, looking at her with wide and hazy eyes. “Well,” she panted, looking down at you with a grin, “I think I’m making you try something as well. I bought you a little something.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.