#CW: shock collar

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Five "You Can Chain Me, You Can Torture Me, You Can Even Destroy This Body, But You Will Never Imprison My Mind."

The torture turns violent, and Bucky struggles to cope. CW: Stab wound, shock collar, humiliation, forced nudity. Prompts filled: ‘Jugular, December 5th prompt, Dead Dove December ‘Dead’, December 5th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023 ‘Impaled’, December 5th prompt, Whumpcember ‘Got to Do What You Got to Do to Survive’, Winter Wonderland Bingo (2) ‘Humiliation’, Fandom-Free Bingo (Frosty Edition)

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

The heat sapped my strength and resistance far quicker than the cold ever did. It took a matter of hours for the dizziness and dehydration to have me slumped over, sweat pouring from my body in rivulets. The sun hadn’t yet begun to rise before the darkness closed in, finally unable to fight the weight pulling down my muscles.

I’m getting real sick of waking up to that face. Hands slapped my cheeks firmly, and I groaned weakly, lids flickering open reluctantly to find sharp green eyes staring at me through thick spectacles. “Ah – he wakes! Not dead yet, I see.” “Not yet,” I rasped, averting my gaze. “Despite your trying.” He smirked, tutting under his breath. “I suppose I will just have to keep trying, hm?” A needle sunk into my jugular, and I hissed through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to spit fury at him, his warnings from the morning still ringing loud in my ears. “What do you want from me?” I asked quietly, grimacing at the syringe of fluid being pushed into my neck. “I don’t know what the Germans did to me. I can’t tell you anything. Why not just let me go?” He tutted again – a patronising sound that set my teeth on edge, and I winced automatically. “We do not need your words, Американский. We need your body’s secrets.” With a sigh, he ran a fingertip over my sweat-sticky forehead, and I couldn’t help but sigh, his touch delightfully cool on my clammy skin. “But! First things are first. Do not let it be said we do not take care or you...” My restraints were removed, and I bolted upright, biting back a yowl as a sharp metal bar impaled my good shoulder at my haste. Another infuriating tut as the was buried in my flesh and muscle had me shaking fiercely with barely contained rage, but he only smiled sickeningly. “Will you never learn?” Bridling under his gaze, I snarled wordlessly, hand raising to wrap around the iron, intending to bury it between his eyes without hesitation- but my hand dropped in surprise as my body convulsed, torso dropping back to the table as spasms and writhes made my muscles contract, jaw clenched against my will. Each second felt like a lifetime as burning energy stirred my limbs without my consent, until I finally relaxed, shaking and panting. “... Shall we try this again, упрямый Американский? Sit.” I moved slowly, hesitantly upright, wincing at the pain in my shoulder, fingers curling instinctively as I fought to remove the rod submerged beside my collarbone. He smirked, leaning closer to yank to metal from my body, but I swallowed my grunt of pain as three inches of steel were dragged from me. “Better...” His fingers curled around the device at my throat, eliciting a pained wince as he dragged me to my feet, the skin beneath still sensitive from the shocks. “Now... Strip.” “I-I... What?” He smirked, leaning forward, a small control in his hand. “Don’t make me ask again, упрямый Американский.” Swallowing dryly, my fingers shook despite myself as I stood a little taller, meeting his eye, every bit as stubborn as he called me as I began to unbutton the heavy woollen jumpsuit still clinging to my body. I won’t let them humiliate me. I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do to survive. It’s better than dying. The wound in my shoulder ached as I wriggled free of the heavy material, kicking off my boots to remove it entirely before straightening, back stiff, to glare at him. My skin crawled as his eyes ghosted over me, and he smiled once more. “Good. It seems you can obey, with the right motivation. Ivan, hose down this dog and put him back in his cell. We are done for today.”

As it turns out, ‘hose down’ was not a figure of speech. I was forced, naked and trembling, out into the snow covered yard, where dozens of Soviet soldiers paused to stare and smirk, the only sympathy found in a pair of pale eyes that met mine steadily rather than probing my flesh like all the others. The remote now rested in Ivan’s hand, so I made no effort to resist as he secured me to manacles attached to the wall, willing to be hosed if it meant avoiding another round of electrocution – my muscles were still clenching intermittently. The temperature was below freezing, and the frost beneath my bare toes made my feet ache, but it was a welcome relief after the intolerable heat – at least, until he turned the frigid, high-powered hose on me, eliciting a yelp audible over even the sounds of the populated yard and earning a few snickers for my pains. The cold seeped into my bones immediately, nausea wracking my body at the rapid change in temperature, but I simply closed my eyes until Ivan deemed his job complete and unchained me. I was tossed back into my cell with a threadbare blanket – cold once more, but only as it had been upon my arrival. Curling up in the corner, knees clutched to my chest in a desperate attempt to preserve my body heat while I dried off, I could only wait patiently for him to come again, wondering absently about the needle plunged into my neck.

I was still trembling lightly by the time he slipped into my prison, tray in hand. The water was gone first, swallowed desperately – despite the easing of my symptoms, I was still painfully dehydrated, lips cracked and sticking to my tongue. He pressed against me to keep me warm as I ate, murmuring apologies for his failure to intervene in the yard. But I understood. The penalty for going against your unit was not one he could afford to pay – and it would, in all likelihood, end with us both dead. With a soft sigh, I rested my head on his skinny shoulder, exhausted by several nights with little sleep and shitty rations. “...What did they inject me with?” I murmured, leaning heavily against him. His fingers probed my throat gently, and I winced at the feeling of him palpation a mass under my skin. “...To track you, I think. Or maybe... Neutralise you. If they cannot control you.” I flinched, my own hand raising to my neck, fingers brushing his as I found the small, hard lump before wrapping around the collar at my throat. “They seem to be controlling me pretty effectively…” He grimaced sympathetically, one hand smoothing my hair, my eyes closing despite myself. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.” “Bucky, you-” “They’ve already left me for dead with sickness, frozen me, melted me, stabbed me, injected me, and tore my arm from my body. How much more until I can’t come back from it? Until it kills me?” I whispered, tears leaking out unconsciously, vulnerable in the darkness and his arms. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed softly, squeezing me tighter. “You’ll be okay, Bucky. I promise.” @whumpcember @hurtcember @deaddovedec @fandom-free-bingo @seasonaldelightsbingo

[greywaysart]

It's icon time again!! This one is for my character Ellie (that's not her name YET but it will be!) and she's a living science experiment! :D

I really had fun with this. I don't do profile views very often, so getting the excuse to draw one pleased me quite a lot!

[feline-gal]

The door slams loudly against the wall as it's kicked open, it's rusty old latch still stuck in the strike.

“Go, go, go!” Nightwing commands, the civilians obediently hurrying out and down the fire escape “C'mon, guys, single file, just 'cuz the landlord doesn't follow code doesn't give you a free pass.”

Once the last of the floor's tenants are out the poorly maintained door, Dick charges through the burning building, keeping an eye out for any more people in need, listening carefully for any cries for help through the roaring of the flames.

As well as the roaring of something else.

Soon enough he finds some and starts guiding them to safety, reassuring them that everything's going to be fine.

An already open fire escape door just comes into view when, as if to spite him, the ceiling suddenly starts collapsing on top of them.

“Look out!” Nightwing exclaims as he bodily shoves a couple people out of the way, taking the brunt of the falling rubble. He pushes himself up as much as he can with a groan “Everyone OK?” he asks, glancing around at the frightened civilians.

They each give an affirmation, some start trying to help the vigilante out from under the debris.

“Something's up there!” one says panickedly, pointing up towards the new hole in the ceiling.

The sounds of tromping footsteps and animalistic growling corroborate the claim.

“Great.” Nightwing comments sardonically “That's great. Gonna have to deal with that as soon as I'm out of here. Just gotta grab some..”

As he's reaching for the pocket containing his fire extinguisher pellet bombs, an unnaturally cold wind starts billowing through the room, snuffing much of the surrounding flames and leaving frost in it's wake before dying down just as suddenly as it'd started up.

Nightwing blinks “Or, that could happen.” he says as he shoves the now brittle debris off himself and stands back up on his feet, dusting himself off “Okay, everybody, let's not look a gift horse in the mouth and get back to getting the heck out of dodge.”

With that he ushers the civilians the rest of the way out of the building, then heads back over to the rubble pile and parkours his way up through the hole to the next floor, which isn't in any better condition than the others.

Through a couple charred holes in a couple walls, he sees a large hulking figure ambling about unbothered by the flames engulfing it's body.

Nightwing pulls his escrima sticks out of their holsters and makes his way towards the creature as quickly and stealthily as he can.

The beast suddenly jolts and lets out a pained roar, thrashing it's limbs wildly in an attempt to hit some unseen attacker. It's frantic swinging sends a piece of furniture flying right towards Nightwing, forcing him to leap out of the way and into the open.

“Yo! Where's the fire?” he snarks. The creature focuses on him and growls, baring it's too many razor sharp teeth at him. Nightwing grins cockily at it from under his gas mask as he takes in it's bear-like appearance “And just what are you supposed to be? Smokey Bear's arsonist cousin he never talks about?”

The flaming zombie bear thing doesn't seem to appreciate the vigilante's sense of humor and grabs another piece of furniture to throw at him.

Nightwing dashes and ducks under the oncoming projectile, gets up close to the beast and leaps into the air with a flip, aiming a kick to it's jaw..

Only for his foot to go right through like it isn't even there.

And as his backflip spins him back around, he finds himself facing an open maw full of very sharp teeth.

“Whoop!”

Nightwing suddenly feels himself being yanked back, the creature's jaws snapping shut on the air where his face just was. It snarls angrily at the loss of it's prey, then gets blasted in the face by a bright blue laser beam that leaves a chunk of solid ice.

“Careful there!” a somewhat familiar voice chides as it's owner sets the vigilante down a fair distance away from the beast now struggling to claw ice off it's face.

Looking over, Nightwing finds a tall, broad shouldered man, very similar to the one who'd saved him the other day, only his skin isn't so much green as it is unnaturally pale, his snow white hair casually defies gravity but moves nothing like the flames surrounding them, and the eyes that quickly glance him over for serious injuries are an eerie shade of green that reminds him of Jason's rare episodes of Pit Madness.

The new stranger meets his eyes and flashes a smile “Don't want you becoming a song lyric now, do we?” he quips.

Nightwing chuckles “Heh, yeah. Thanks for not letting that happen, Jack Frost.”

The stranger gives a chuckle of his own “Name's Phantom, actually.” he introduces.

“Never heard of ya'.” Nightwing comments “You new to this hero business?”

“Nah.” Phantom waves off “I've been around a while, just don't get out of my hometown very often, prefer to keep this-” he gestures to the flaming bear thing still working on it's unwanted ice mask “-particular brand of crazy contained.”

“Seems like there's been a breach.” the more local hero points out.

“Not my fault.” the newcomer states, then under his breath mutters “This time.”

“Sure.” is all Nightwing says about that “So, I'm guessing I'm a little bit totally ineffective against this thing?”

“No, actually.” Phantom declares, pointing at the strip of metal wrapped around the beast's neck “The one thing on it you can touch is the collar that's driving it crazy,” as if on cue, the lights and circuit patterns on the neckband begin glowing brighter and crackling with electricity, causing the bear thing to let out another pained roar “and said collar doesn't particularly like me touching it. Soo..”

“You'll keep Burny Bear busy while I go for his jewelry?” Nightwing asks, shifting into a ready position as he watches the creature finally break the ice off it's face.

“Exactly!” Phantom confirms with a thumbs up, also shifting his stance.

The beast lets out another roar and charges at them.

Nightwing dodges to the side while Phantom jumps backwards, keeping the thing's attention on him as he allows it to chase but never touch him.

The former boy wonder keeps to the creature's blind spots as he watches Phantom dodge it's strikes, weaving through the air with all the grace that came with several years worth of practice, his legs at some point having turned into a wispy black tail, occasionally firing off blasts of either icy blue or Lazarus Waters green.

The bear thing sinks it's claws into a larger piece of furniture and swings it's forelimbs upwards, sending the object flying at the Meta pestering it. The item goes right through Phantom like he isn't even there and crashes into the ceiling, sending dust and debris falling down around the floating hero.

Phantom pokes his head out of the dust cloud only to get smacked in the face by one of the beast's paws, sending him careening into a wall.

Nightwing's eyes widen in horror at the sight of the Meta's crumpled body, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

“Ow.” Phantom groans as he lifts his head and snaps his neck back into place with a series of sickening cracks.

The local vigilante sighs in relief at the revelation of the newcomer's healing factor, but doesn't let his guard drop.

The bear thing lunges at the downed hero, claws and fangs bared with vicious intent. Phantom throws up his hands and a wall of that Lazarus green energy materializes between him and the creature, blocking it's attacks.

“Y'see, Burny;” he quips “This shit is why you don't get invited to Thanksgiving dinner anymore.”

Burny bear roars indignantly at the comment and continues slashing and biting at the energy shield.

Seeing his opportunity, Nightwing exchanges his escrima sticks for a pair of explosive Wing-Dings as he charges towards the beast. He leaps into the air and jams the bladed weapons into the seams of the collar, priming them, before kicking off the wall and reverse somersaulting away.

The creature pauses in it's ineffectual assault to wonder at the strange new beeping devices attached to it's neck before they promptly explode. It growls and shakes it's head, seeming more bothered by the loud noise and flash of light than anything else. Meanwhile, it's collar just barely survived the dual blasts and is now sparking wildly.

Once it regains it's vision, the bear thing catches sight of Nightwing and snarls, beginning to advance upon him.

“Oh no you don't!” Phantom exclaims as he drops his shield and pounces up onto the creature's back, clamping his hands down around it's jaws. The beast reels back and thrashes, trying to dislodge the Meta from it's back.

Nightwing pulls his escrima sticks back out, with the click of a button they whir to life, electricity crackling around their ends. Once again he runs right back up to the creature and jams the charged bastons into the exposed circuitry of the collar.

The bear thing lets out another roar of pain as electric bolts dance across it's upper body in a dazzling display that Nightwing has to shut his eyes against to avoid getting blinded by.

After a moment, the collar finally breaks apart and crumbles off it's wearer, who's pained cry peters out as it starts to fall over.

Nightwing steps back from the toppling beast while Phantom simply hovers in place over it. The two heroes let out a sigh as they watch their opponent crash to the ground, it's flames dimming somewhat.

“And now;” Phantom says as he pulls an odd high-tech looking cylinder off his belt “Soup time!” with that he pops the cap off the item, points it's open end towards the bear thing and clicks the button on it's side. With a bright blue light and a rush of air, the creature is sucked into the object, which Phantom promptly re-caps.

Nightwing blinks “Is that-” he points at the item “-a thermos?”

“Yup!” Phantom confirms cheerily.

“So, when you said 'soup time'..”

“No.” Phantom waves off with a roll of his eyes “I'm not actually going to turn it into soup and eat it. I'm gonna release it into it's natural habitat as soon as I get the chance.”

Nightwing blinks again “That thing has a natural habitat?”

“Yup!” Phantom again confirms cheerily.

“Where?” Nightwing quirks a brow “In hell?”

“Prob'ly.” Phantom replies with a shrug “Speaking of which, I better start putting out all this fire.” with that he flies off, a strong gust of unnaturally cold wind following him as he makes a circuit around the floor, dowsing the flames as he goes and leaving patches of frost in his wake.

Seeing as the other hero has the situation well in hand, Nightwing makes his way out of the building and onto the rooftop of a nearby, less scorched building, watching the newcomer's work from afar.

Eventually, Phantom rises up into the air in front of the local vigilante “Nice teaming up with you, Nightwing.” he comments, not halting in his ascent “See ya around!” he says with a two fingered salute before fading into invisibility.

“Same to you.” Nightwing replies to the seemingly empty air.

He hums contemplatively to himself as he muses over this second new Meta and his familiar appearance.

Curiouser and Curiouser..

Soulmate Song

After a long day at his work, Dick starts walking back to his apartment humming his soulmate song. A large man that looks vaguely like Clark shows up and starts calling him "Dan" and telling him that he shouldn't wander off in a new city without letting him know. There was also something about "changing appearances" in the lecture too, but he wasn't able to get a word in edgewise. So, he just stood there letting the man fuss over him.

After a while, another guy shows up whistling his soulmate song! The new guy was just as tall and broad shouldered as the first but with wavy silver hair that he had in a low ponytail. The first guy called him Dan and quickly realized what had happened. He'd been mistaken for his soulmate. How did that happen?

As he starts trying to talk to the guy, the two men apologize and disappear.

Now, Dick had to find his soulmate before he leaves Bludhaven.

[jamiesfootball]

Signed up for a Bad Things Happen Bingo card, and uh. Saw a prompt.

'Shock collar'

Shock collar whump? Jamie shock collar whump? Jamie fucked up backstory shock collar whump?

Whump below the line. mind the tags

"Stop it!" he shrieked, and the stupid fucking pubescent cracking of his voice sent them all into fits again. His thoughts weren't stringing together, head stuffed tight as humiliation pooled under his skin. "Fu- quit it!"

Denbo grabbed him from behind and his mind went blank.

His legs dropped out from under him, trying to scramble away from the bigger man, but he was stronger, fully grown where Jamie was still stretching for the weight the physios wanted him to be at. Denbo moved him like a puppet, hands gripped tight around the bones of his shoulders, holding him steady while Bug sprung forward with the collar and and his dad laughed hysterically, choking on his drink.

Up close, the collar was a small and inoffensive thing, not even as thick as his dad's belt.

His mind screamed.

"C'mon, Jam-Jam," Bug sing-songed, sloppily patting him on the cheek. "Don't be like that. Heard you were getting all fancy, wearing a bit of jewelry these days -- we're just gon' see how it looks on you."

Jamie turned and bit his hand.

Bug screamed.

His dad laughed.

Denbo slapped him round the head.

His ears rang. Bug shook him loose off his hand, and Denbo let go of his shoulder to cup a hand up under his jaw, tilting his head back so that his neck was bared and vulnerable to the air.

He swung his free arm to scratch out Bug's eyes, but Bug caught him easily -- him and Denbo holding him spread open by the arms like a moth to a pinboard while his dad howled with laughter from the kitchen.

He heard the distinctive clink of glass on glass as his dad poured them all new shots.

He heard a strangled, "No!" rip from his own throat as Bug fumbled the collar around his neck. For a moment, his greasy hand slipped, and he let the collar hang loose and limp around Jamie's neck while he wiped his hands against the front of his t-shirt, right over the City logo.

He clicked the collar shut, and something broke in Jamie's chest.

He pulled the remote out of his pocket.

He hit the button.

Jamie's knees jerked out from under him.

It didn't hurt the way he thought it'd hurt. Felt like getting flicked really hard in a neck, but all over. It didn't really hurt. It didn't.

His eyes stung. He dug his nails into the carpet.

Denbo was cursing, "Fuckin' hell! Warn me next time, man. That could've shocked me."

"Ah, sorry 'bout that. But fuck, he really fell didn' he?"

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Run, Human, RUN Masterlist

Warnings: violence, death, broken bones, trapped in a pit, starvation/emaciated, blood and severe injury, torture, muzzles & shock collars, captivity, near-extinct human race (let me know if I forgot anything)

Summary: a human named Alexa lives with a group of survivors who have survived a deadly disease that has wiped out practically the entire human race. She struggles to survive with her group in the dangerous world outside the safety of their hideout, but when food finally runs out and they have to venture into the forest just to avoid starvation... Alexa learns that they are not the only ones hunting out here. The group of humans was being hunted too. And the winged natives were not happy to find trespassers in their forest. Can Alexa survive the attack and survive alone in the wilderness for a few days...?

Part 1 - Breakable Things... Like Bones

Part 2 - Predator and Prey

Part 3 - Guest... or Captive?

Part 4 - RUN

Part 5 - Ambushed

Part 6 - Accidental Betrayal

Part 7 - No Bark all Bite

Part 8 - The Power of Determination

Part 9 - Freeing a Monster

Part 10 - Shackled

Part 11 - Mercy

Part 12 - Traitor

Part 13 - Stranger Danger

Part 14 - The Outsider

Main Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal

[carnivorousyandeere]

Still thinking about Kosuke… power couple with a Cheerleader Darling— how fun would it be to make them a slasher duo, or survivors in a zombie apocalypse?

Or maybe Kosuke with a shy, nerdy little mouse of a Darling? Kosuke tests the limits a bit too much— their flirting borders on bullying at the best of times— and gets the tables turned on them~!

[ruskatuskapuskasapuska]

...But i didn't do anything.

Yay I finally finished this thing (AKA called it quits before I'd start getting frustrated with this), haven't done a big one like this in a while *p* There's a lot of things I'd like to nitpick but imma just leave it at "i prolly shoulda used some more references" this time :'D

Under this we got the unedited versions and a close-up

and heck, have the lineart and sketches too (tho i already posted the sketches but fuck it), I really like looking at WIPs :)

[justplainwhump]

Prep Protocol

In the hands of his former colleagues at the facility, Tyler's day is getting even worse.

[Way over his head | Masterpost]

Content / warning: BBU setting, facility whump, multiple whumpers, whumper turned whumpee (ig?), interrogation, shock collar, strapped to a table, threat of noncon, noncon kiss, implied future noncon, intimate whumper, creepy whumper. Yeah this is just me throwing you little bits, but hey, it's Tyler.

Tyler only noticed the plastic wrap around his wrist, when Handler Grimm ran his fingers over it, and Tyler cringed from a sudden, stinging pain. 

A piece of cling wrap peeked out under the leather strap that fixated his arm to the table. The skin underneath was red and slightly swollen, sensitive to touch.

Grimm chuckled.

Tyler felt like all air had been sucked from his lungs.

Under the plastic, thin black bars contrasted against the red.

"Mh. Yeah," Grimm said cheerfully. "002243. That's going to be you, Parker. 002244, your girlfriend. We've got both your admission files ready. Signatures and all. Just a little bit of pre-work we need to do with you." He patted Tyler's wrist. "You'll beg us to get on the Drip, 243, but you'll have to work for that mercy."

243. Just five more than 238. Despair tilted over into hysteric amusement. He could've laughed out. He really hadn't been cut out for that job, had he now?

"Smiling, Parker? Wonder what that's about." Grimm clicked his tongue. "But you know what I wonder about more? I bet you do know." He leaned in on his chair, almost casual, if his hand hadn't been playing with the remote to the shock collar. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Tyler all but giggled. As if this job allowed any of them a private life. "Who? 238? You know she actually could've been, in another-"

White pain surged through him, swallowed him for what felt like an eternity.

His muscles were screaming, everywhere, his whole body on fire and crushed under the weight of the world at the same time.

"-fucking idiot," Grimm's voice took shape in the whiteness, came in waves with the pain. "Tara McKenzie. Where is she?" 

"G-gone," Tyler said hoarsely. His voice was cracking strangely in his own ears. Had he screamed? He didn't remember. Had 238's voice felt the same to her, after he'd shocked her?

"Gone where?"

"Don't know. She hates me," Tyler croaked, and couldn't even tell, why he added, "Everyone hates handlers."

Grimm leaned in over him, eyes squinted as he looked deeply into Tyler's eyes. "Is he still high?", he asked someone else in the room, not even bothering to shock Tyler again. "What did you give him?"

"Sedated him to get him here", someone said. "Should have worn off by now."

"Well. Not enough. Can't work with him like this. At least not for an interrogation." Grimm sighed. "Let's switch to preparation protocol instead. Soften him up. Gonna help us one way or another."

Tyler swallowed. He didn't know what preparation protocol was, he realized. He'd only ever come in after the Drip. All he knew was, he'd lost already. Whatever they were going to do, he had no reason to give up Tara. He wouldn't.

Next to him, Grimm patted his shoulder. "There's really no reason for relief right now." He nodded towards the one way mirror. "There's a bunch of people here, who take what you did very personal. You've sabotaged the company, Parker. You may have heard those urban legends about maintenance pets? That's what happens to the idiot sort of handlers who fail at their work. Snitches, though? Whole different cup of tea." Grimm reached out, and Tyler could only flinch before the handlers warm hand rested on his bare stomach, stroking his skin, wandering up to his chest. Tyler's heart raced, all of a sudden. "Snitches with a body like yours, Parker? Intimate knowledge of full Romantic training specifications?" Grimm's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know what you're going to be. And prep protocol? Means to get your body acquainted with being used for one thing only. Had some of your colleagues come in, just for that. It's more fun, when it's personal. And you know, Parker, your secrets about Tara will sit very loose once you've understood that the mercy of the Drip is your only way out."

Grimm's breath was hot on Tyler's skin, suddenly, and then the other man's lips grazed along his ear. "You're going to love this, soon enough. But as long as you hate it, remember - you can end it." He pressed a kiss on Tyler's neck and Tyler's whole body stiffened under the touch. "I'm going to my office, follow up on that mess you've thrown us into, Parker, but I will enjoy knowing you in Handler Thompson's capable hands."

Tyler's breath caught.

"Hey T." Carly stepped in at his side, a hard grin on her face. "Love the look."

Grimm retreated, chuckling without any humor. "Let me know when he's ready to talk. Have fun. You can book this as overtime."

Carly reached out and grabbed a handful of Tyler's hair, jerked his head up to make him meet her gaze. "Will do, Sir," she said to Grimm, and then, pulling Tyler even closer, she whispered into his ear, "Going to make this last a long, long while." 

[highwaywhump]

BBU community days, day 3!

{Day 3} Writing prompt: Discipline

I really like how this turned out. 944 is the same guard dog as in this piece.

CW/TW for a lil whumpee being beaten up, mentions of blood and bones breaking, shock collar, prong collar, allusion to non-/dubcon, dehumanisation/animalisation.

-

“No, please, please don’t let him, please, I’ll be good! I’ll be good, I promise, please -”

944 tuned the trainee’s pleading out. He was short and skinny, and limping on one leg. He wasn’t a threat. Which meant, this wasn’t training. 

This was punishment. He was the punishment. 

He let himself roll forwards and back on the balls of his feet. His skin buzzed with excitement. He was alert. Ready. 

“Shut the fuck up, 732. You made your bed.” The trainee’s handler kicked the trainee at the back of the knees, sending him down to the tiled floor without warning. He cried out as his already bruised knees made unbridled contact with the hard surface. 944 watched in disgust as he laid there, halfway resuming an erratic version of the respect position. His begging subsided to meaningless blubbering in between heavy sobs. 

Can’t even show respect right, 944 thought, not without contempt. He leaned forwards again without really thinking about it, causing his own handler to grip his leather collar tighter. 

“Heel,” he said, and 944 yielded immediately. He was good, unlike the pathetic trainee on the floor in front of him. They’d stacked three collars on him for the occasion. The shock collar was standard issue, the heavy shock clip digging into the skin on the nape of his neck. Over it, a wide leather collar with a handle at the back, so the handler could control him. The rough leather pressed harshly against his adam’s apple whenever he’d pull on it. The last was a vicious thing made of several links of steel, hooked into one another to form a chain. Each link had prongs protruding from the inside, digging into his skin. His handler had placed it as high as it could go, tightening it snuggly right below his jaw. It was to make his reactions snappy, he’d say. 944 didn’t question it. 

“What’d he do, anyway?” another handler asked, nodding towards the bundle of shivering skin and bone on the floor. 

“Fucker bit me.” The handler who’d kicked him down winced as he gently touched the front of his pants. 

The first one barked out a laugh. “Nobody told you to use a gag the first time? Jesus Christ.” 

“He’s used it for a month. First time without one today.” 

“Hah! Well, he’ll learn. Ya hear?” he said, enunciating the question loudly as he gave the trainee a light kick with the toe of his boot. “You get an inch, you take an inch. No miles!” 

944 observed as the rest of the handlers raised their batons. “No miles!” they yelled, and it seemed like an inside joke they were all part of. He shook it off. He didn’t need to understand. He needed a target and a command. He had the first. The second wasn’t far off. 

“It’s time you got some discipline, 732.” His handler bent down to grab onto the trainee’s blonde hair, wrenching his head up towards 944. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, making his blue irises stand out like icebergs in a sea of blood. He wailed as 944 met his gaze. 944 looked calm in return. A picture perfect guard dog; collected until he was asked to engage. 

944’s handler tugged on his collar, and he bowed his head down, still keeping the trainee in his line of sight. His handler’s low voice was round with dark amusement in 944’s ears when he spoke. 

“Teach him a lesson, ‘44.” 

The grip on his collar disappeared, and 944 stopped thinking. He started acting.

He registered the sounds coming from the trainee under him and how they changed from wails and cries to groans and moans, coming in time with the movements of his fists as he swung them, over and over. He made sure to spread the hits out evenly, finding all the spots that could hurt, because this wasn’t incapacation, it was punishment. He registered the loud, raw laughter and excited yelling from the handlers around him, and it spurred him on. He registered bright crimson, stark against the white tiles and the trainee’s white shirt. He registered the deep and brittle sound of something breaking, and he registered loving it.

He didn’t register his own pain, even though his knuckles were scraped up. He didn’t register his handler snapping a command at him, then yelling it. He didn’t register the hand back on his leather collar, or how it tried to yank him away. 

He did register it when the row of metal teeth nestled just below his jaw suddenly dug into the soft skin there. He sprung back, his hands dropping everything they were doing as he moved backwards with the collar, desperate to relieve the pressure as he coughed and sputtered. 

“Off, I said!” his handler yelled at him, yanking the metal collar again. 944 yowled in pain, looking up at his handler with wide, terrified eyes from his position on the floor. He knew what was coming. 

“You’re getting too comfortable, 44!” His handler dug into his pocket until he found what he was looking for. A small, black remote. 944 only managed to whimper the start of an apology before his shock collar went off, blasting white pain up and down his spine. 

His handler hit the button again and again, until the guard dog was trembling with the aftershocks of the punishment. He was on his side, breathing rapidly and shallowly, his tongue hanging loose and spilling out the side of his mouth. Like a dog. 

The handler went down on one knee next to him, his thumb still on the button, ready. “You listen to me!” he roared, only a few inches from 944’s face. He could feel the spit droplets landing on his cheek. “I decide how far you go! No miles! You! Listen! To! Me!”

Each of the last four words were punctuated by a shock. 944’s spine jerked in time with the words. His ears were ringing. On the tiled floor, 10 or 12 feet in front of him, he could see the contours of the other trainee. The other handlers were kneeling around him, looking like they didn’t know what to do. 732 was red, red everywhere, except for his piercing blue eyes. He was staring right at him. 944 could only stare back.

-

@bbu-on-the-side

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Seven "The Only Way to Deal With an Unfree World is to Become So Absolutely Free That Your Very Existence is an Act of Rebellion."

Bucky gives rebellion another go – and his only comfort is taken from him. CW: Canon-typical violence, neglect, locked outside in the cold, homophobia, shock collar, cliffhanger. Prompts filled: ‘First Night’, December 7th prompt, Dead Dove December; ‘Broken’, December 7th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023; ‘Fainting’, December 7th prompt, Whumpcember; ‘Locked Outside’, Winter Wonderland Bingo; ‘You’re Insane!���, Multifandom Flash (Double).

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

I woke slowly, pressing closer to the warm, slender body half-beneath me, comforted by gentle hand stroking along my spine, unerring over healing wounds and fading scars. “Hey,” I whispered, shifting to rest on my chin and meet his gaze, his free hand propped behind his head to smile softly at me. “Good morning,” he breathed, fingertips moving to skirt my jaw affectionately. “I… I must go. It is getting later than I would like… I’m sorry.” I nodded once, letting those fingers guide my chin up to brush my lips against his, humming contentedly. “It’s okay… I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.” He kissed my forehead gently, slowly easing my body from his, and I couldn’t help but wince at the cold floor on against my sleep-warmed skin. “Try and get some more rest before Ivan brings your breakfast, Bucky. I will see you tonight.” I nodded softly, wincing at the sunrise that came through the door as he opened it and lighting him from behind. Ethereal.

Ivan’s typical routine was to open my cell door, toss the tray onto the floor – often scattering most of the contents onto the concrete – and back out, leaving me to eat in silence until I was called upon for more torturous experiments. But the light under the door brightened, and still, nobody came. The hours trickled by slowly, my boredom so great that I almost began to miss the torture by the time I finally heard the grate of the bolt on the door. “Американский. On your feet.” “I haven’t had breakfast,” I growled, fingers clenching into a stubborn fist, raising my head where I was propped against the wall. Short of a few broken toes, smashed with a hammer and healing slowly, I was relatively unharmed, and would not be going quietly after a day of endless waiting. All I had here was the vague routine, and taking it from me had threatened to drive me mad; I would not be meek and compliant for their ease today, no matter what they threatened me with. “Is that the next plan? To starve me out?” He snorted, and my body crumbled beneath me as he hit the control in his hand, muscles spasming automatically at the electricity flowing through my bones. My jaw clenched unconsciously, biting back the agonised scream building in my throat as he approached me. “Yпрямый Американский.” Despite my pain, the second the convulsions stopped I lashed out, his own groan of pain sounding alongside the crack of his snapping tibia as my fist collided with his shin. I scrambled upright as his leg folded grotesquely beneath him, scrabbling in a panicked excitement to my feet and towards the door. I barely made it two steps before he hit the controls once more, sending me to the ground, cursing my idiocy and clawing at the concrete, the current frying my mind until I faded from consciousness.

Awareness came slowly, with a biting wind on my bare skin and heavy weights around my limbs, shivering even in my forced sleep as I blinked into the darkness. “You will not stand? You will kneel instead.” My eyes raised at the voice, and I shifted to raise my head, but found a strong rod keeping my head bowed and knees bent. Snow swirled, eliciting another shiver, and I realised for the first time that I was outside, the drifts around my legs stretching as far as I could see, interrupted only by a pair of black boots. “Chilly out here in the evening, is it not? I thought you would be tired of the cold.” “Why am I out here?” I spat, watching the clouds formed by my words drift beyond my eyeline. “This? Oh, there is no experiment here, Американский. This… Is punishment.” The doctor’s grin was predatory as he squatted before me, eyes sharp when they found mine. “You and that предатель have been very bad boys.” “Предатель?” He smirked viciously, moving forward to drag me around by the hair, eliciting a pained hiss. My eyes rose just high enough to see the snow-smeared outline of another person opposite me, restrained in a similar manner. “Traitor.” “B-B-Bucky,” the man opposite stuttered, his teeth chattering audibly, and as I squinted through the dusk I found him dressed only in his shorts, bare legs submerged in snow, my heart stopping as pale eyes found mine. “Aleksi,” I breathed, bile raising in my throat. “No…” I can survive this, but he can’t. “Please,” I whispered, turning my eyes to the doctor once more. “Please. You can do what you want to me. I won’t fight you anymore. Please, leave him be.” He simply smiled once more, shaking his head. “Oh, I do not think so. He does not deserve forgiveness, and neither do you. Maybe watching your lover die will break your spirit.” “No!” I snarled, straining against the chains that held me fast, the bar at my back digging into my skull as I fought to straighten my head until warm liquid dripped steadily onto my bare shoulders. “You can’t do this! You’re insane!” I cried, my muscles aching as I fought. “At least I am no педик,” he spat, leaning forward with dark eyes. “Faggot.” I let out a roar of pure hatred, lunging as best my restraints allowed, hand curled into a fist as I trashed – but I was too weak, and held too fast. “Bucky.” My eyes shifted automatically at the murmur, my sensitive hearing picking up his voice even over the whirling snow and the sound of my own heart pounding. “Bucky… I-It’s okay. It’s okay.” “No. No!” I roared, tugging harder, the cuff around my throat cutting off my breath and forcing me to relent. “It’s o-okay,” he repeated, hands shaking violently as they rose to placate me. “I do not regret my actions. I-I knew this cou-could be how it ends. It is ok-okay.” “No,” I whispered, tears filling and spilling from eyes, voice cracked and broken. “It… It was just once. It was the first night. It was a mistake- it won’t happen again. Please… Please don’t do this.” The doctor smiled once more, moving closer to me, his breath warm and scotch-scented on my face. “Beg.” “Please,” I breathed immediately, trembling. “I’ll do anything. Don’t kill him – not for me. I’ll do anything you want. Please. I won’t fight; I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, just… Let him go.” He straightened up once more, hands curling into fists by his sides as he considered my request. “You want me to show him mercy? You’ll behave?” “Yes! Yes, please. Please!” I begged, straining once more. “I’ll do anything you ask of me!” He took a step back, body shifting slightly as he turned to consider the man restrained opposite me, shaking violently from the cold.

@whumpcember @hurtcember @deaddovedec @multifandom-flash @seasonaldelightsbingo

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

Since he won my last poll, heeeeere's Strex Kevin! He's not too different looking from my regular Kevin, but he is now real regardless!

[dumbbitchforuse]

Hiiii I love seeing your blog on my dash 😍 Come here and sit in my lap and take the drinks I give you, and I promise I dress you up in something pretty for when you wake. Like nothing but a shock collar 💖💖💖

I’d be so trusting at the start- and by the time I realize how strong these drinks are and try to stop-

it’s too late. But you’ll take care of me until I wake up, however long that takes. 🥰🥰🥰

[syst3merr0r]

Gonna try to do this list this year!! I'm REALLY gonna try to keep up with it w everyday!

(Which means I need to haul ass because it's 7pm on Oct 1st atm WHOOPS-)

Proud to announce our own little goretober list!!

❤️ @shocked-collar ❤️

Anyone can use this little list! We just made it for fun. Make sure to tag us tho, we’d love to see it.

[shayandwildlifepack]

More bad memories from my life as Zuki. Cause of course my brain hates me.

Tw: abuse, school abuse[? Idk what to call it], muzzles, quirk discrimination, shock collars, bullying, I think that's it for this one?

When I was younger, my bio mother was told to use a muzzle and shock collar that "neutralized" quirks on me. Cause my quirk was "dangerous" and "needed to be controlled." These were supposed to be illegal to use on anyone, even the most dangerous villain. But of course, people didn't listen and used them on those with "evil" or "villain" quirks (especially certain mutant related quirks).

It kinda makes sense that a hero like my bio mother could get one, but what's 'interesting' is that once I got into middle school, some of the teachers also had them. I don't know where they got them, but whatever. My middle school and high school both used the muzzles and shock collars on me.

When I was in middle school, I was still very cautious and shit. I never fought back, I never started a fight, I never did any of that. But yet anytime someone attacked me, I got punished. They would put the muzzle on me saying something about how I was bad and deserved it and the same thing with the shock collar. But 'luckily' the shock collar was less often used.

In high school is when I started fighting back sometimes. It was still usually only if someone else was being hurt [whether physically or verbally]. When it was just me, I would usually not fight back. Sometimes, I did fight back when it was just against me fully, though.

This is all I'm gonna talk about rn.

- Zuki Shay Lupo (They/it/he)

[eddiesxangel]

1-800-HOT-TO-GO | E.M

Anonymous asked: Can i request a fic where either the reader reveals during a pizza and beers hangout she was a phone sex operator for a brief time and everyone is shocked and one of them jokingly asks if she was any good and she whispers something dirty in their ear and it changes their friendship

Cw: fem!reader, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk 1.7k words

“Come again?”

“I used to work a sex hotline,” you shrug like it was no big deal.

“No way,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

You hear Steve and the others giggle around you, also in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

“Try me.” He wants to call your bluff because no way in hell did he not know this about you. You always were reserved when it came to talking about sex; never had you seemed promiscuous.

You hold up your hand to your ear, pretending it is a phone, and Eddie follows your lead.

“Ring ring,” he giggles.

“Hello.” You changed the pitch of your voice to be more sultry.

“Hi,” he smirks.

“Can I get a name, handsome?”

“ Eddie”

“Mmmm, hi, Eddie. I’m Candy.”

“Candy?”

He breaks character, but you don’t.

“the boys say it’s because I’m so sweet.” You fake giggle.

“This is my first time calling. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“That’s okay, I’ll walk you through it… you want to get comfortable for me?”

Eddie looks around the room at the others, who are trying to stifle their giggles. This night was supposed to be chill, with pizza and beers. He wasn’t really sure how you all ended up here.

“I’m comfortable.” He says without actually moving.”

“I wish I could see; you sound so sexy.” You sigh.

Another giggle leaves Eddie’s lips because who is this person who’s taken over your body?

“Yeah? you wish you could see be, Dollface?” Playing into it more.

You lean in to whisper so only he can hear it this time. “oh yeah, big boy; I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me.” You sit back, take a loose tendril, twirl his hair around your finger, and watch Eddie’s eyes widen at what you just said.

“Oh-okay, that’s enough.” He chuckles, trying not to give away how turned on he just got. “I believe you!”

You sit back with a giggle and grab another slice of pizza like nothing just happened.

Everyone looked at you with shock.

Eddie quickly gets up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

“What did you say?!” Robin begs.

You shrug in response like it was another day at work… which it has been.

“Damn, is it hot in here?” Steve pops the collar of his shirt.

“You guys need to loosen up, my god.”

While you were still enjoying your pizza, Eddie was having a crisis. Never had he thought of you in that way until moments ago, listening to those filthy words slip from your lips.

“I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me,” your words replayed in his mind while he tried to fight the blood rushing to his stiffening cock.

He can’t go back out there like this. Eddie splashed cold water on his face to try to snap him out of it, but it didn’t help.

A quick rap on the door startles Eddie out of his inner monologue.

“You okay, big boy? You’ve been in there fifteen minutes.” He hears you laugh from the other side.

Had it really been that long?

Eddie’s issue had not been resolved; in fact, it had worsened as he tried to push down the thought of you naked and spread out for him… talking to him like that.

“Yeah-I-uh- just a minute.” Eddie wanted to pull his hair out at how frustrated you had made him.

You were just pals, bubbies, amigos.

You weren’t attractive… were you?

Eddie never thought to look at you in that way; you’re just a friend, always had been, always will be… unless?

The more Eddie thought about it, the more he realized he did think your hair looked really pretty tonight. The way you always did your makeup really brought out your beautiful features…and when he got a whiff of your delicious perfume when you twirled his hair, he couldn’t get enough.

“You sure?” You try to jiggle the door handle, but it’s locked.

“Shit,” Eddie curses under with breath.

“Come on, Ed, talk to me, please?”

You hear the lock unlatch and watch the doorknob slowly turn as Eddie pokes his head out.

“Hi,” he’s short and sounds a bit out of breath.

“I hope what I said didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ed saw the worried look in your eyes.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but…no.”

“Yes, but no?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. He didn’t see a way out of this. He stepped aside to let you in and shut the door behind you.

“Eddie?” You look up at him.

“Hm?”

His eyes snap to your concerned face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal! It did it all the time for work; I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. clearly, I overstepped a boundary-“

“You’re not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie moves his strategically placed hands to reveal the tent formed in his jeans and watches as your face falls into amused shock.

You cup your mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.

“That’s not the reaction a guy wants when he shows a girl how turned on he is.”

“I’m sorry, I just!-didn’t think?”

“It’s okay. I’m just trying to get rid of it, but it’s not going away.”

“You mean?”

“I’m waiting it out.”

“Oh, ok.” You nod awkwardly.

An awkward silence washes over the both of you as you try so hard not to stare at his crotch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for your help if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Ok…”

Another very uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, trying to do everything in your power so as not to look down.

“I um… I guess I’ll just.” You point to the door that he’s blocking.

“Uh. Ok,” he nods and steps to the side.

You close the door behind you but don’t leave. You lean against the door and take a deep breath, trying to make sense of the evening.

Why did the thought of turning Eddie on excite you? He’s a friend. Just a friend. I always had and always will be.

With a deep breath, you go to push yourself up off the door, but before you’re able to, you hear your name being moaned from the other side of the door.

You froze. You knew you should move, but your feet were locked in place. More heavy breaths and the sound of muffled moans seeped from under the door gap, and you pressed your ear to the door.

Eddie was jerking off because of you… and you liked it?

Eddie bit back screaming your name as he finally released himself into the bathroom tissue. Finally, he could return to rejoin everyone without being physically uncomfortable.

He discarded his release, tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and unlocked the door, but he was ambushed when you fell onto him when he went to open the door.

You let out a squeak as you lost your balance, falling into Eddie as the door was opened from under you.

“Woah,” Eddie catches you before you’re able to fall. His rage hands wrap around your biceps, gripping tightly to brace your fall.

“Were you spying on me?”

“Oh god, sorry” you’re so embarrassed. The whole evening has been one shit show. You scramble to find your fitting to create space between you and Eddie.

“You were spying on me!”

“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down.”

“You totally were spying on me!” He accused.

“You’re the one who moaned my name!” You defend.

Eddie’s cheeks reddened.

“You’re the one who said all those… things!” his hands flailed.

“You’re the one who egged it on!”

“So!”

“So?”

“Yeah, so!”

“Woah, guys, what’s going on here?” Steve pops his head around the corner.

“Nothing,” you both glare.

“Ohhhhhkayyyyyyyy,” Steve turns a heel and walks back to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Eddie,” you sigh, “I don’t want to argue. This is dumb, and we can pretend it never happened.”

“We could, but I gotta know.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you like it?” He took a step closer, filling the gap between you.

“What?” You look up at him.

“I asked if you like listening to me?” he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

You gulp, not expecting Eddie’s demeanour to switch on a dime.

“I… I don’t know?”

“I think you did, and you’re too scared to admit it.” You can smell him. He is so close to you.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You watch as he leans in closer.

“Just trust me.” His hands find the back of your neck, pulling you close.

“Eddie?”

“Let me try something.”

“Kay,” you whisper.

Eddie’s lips graze yours ever so lightly before he presses them fully.

A million and one thoughts run through your mind as Eddie kisses you.

You blame the cheap beer for letting this happen. You blame the beer for liking it. You blame the beer for kissing him back. You blame the beer for the tongue slip and the beer for how you wanted to moan when he pulled away.

“Woah”

“Yea woah,” you repeated dumbly.

“um… did you like it?”

“Yeah… did you?”

“Yeah.”

“cool… now what?”

“go out with me,” Eddie states confidently.

“Like a date?”

“what else would it be?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, embarrassed that Eddie is getting you all flustered.

“You’re cute when you don’t know what to say.” He smirks.

“I’m cute?” You never thought hearing Eddie say those words would send butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

Eddie doesn’t answer verbally; he leans in to kiss you again to confirm his statement.

“We should get back to the others.” You sigh as you pull away.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Yes, I did. I asked you out.”

“No, you said go out with me. That’s a statement, not a question.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Yes, you were totally messing with him.

“Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Just say yes! You’ve been gone for half an hour!” You hear Robin yell from the living room.

“Robin!” You hear Steve scold.

“What?”

You can’t help but laugh and can’t believe the next world’s coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll go out with you, Eddie.”

[comatosebunny09]

heavy | sylus q.

— summary: who takes care of the person busy caring for everyone else? sylus. the answer is sylus. — cw: female!reader, fingering, unprotected intercourse, naughty things done in a bathtub, creampie, alcohol mention, pet names, slight choking, allusions to depression and anxiety, explicit language, praise kink, not proofread, kinda rough sex, mdni — wc: ~3.4K — dividers by: @grabby-smitten — now playing: truman show - merges & l3gion

It begins with a steady pressure behind your eyes. 

Untreated, it blossoms into something more intense, seeping through your temples like spilled liquid, and the pain borders unbearable. You can’t focus on your work, the harsh glow of your monitor worsening your plight.

You snatch your glasses from your face. Attempt to ease the pressure with kneading fingers. Pinch the bridge of your nose. Sigh. It’s useless; your vision blurs around the edges, and your head is pounding as if your brain’s seeking release from your skull.

You don’t notice Captain Jenna behind you. Jump when she comes to you in the form of a firm hand on your shoulder, voice soft. “You should go home to get some rest,” she suggests through a pitying smile.

You don’t protest. There’s more to her words than a simple plea. It’s an order, and you’re smiling small, already gathering your things and slinking out of your cubicle. 

You’re grateful for the reprieve. Maybe a restart will help ease the weight off your shoulders.

—

Something smells divine.

It jumpstarts your appetite, the rich scent of herbs and meat seeping through the cracks of your apartment door. You didn’t realize how hungry you were, your stomach snarling whilst you ease your key into the lock. 

You can’t remember if you left something in the oven. Can’t be bothered to recall much of anything, your head still pulsing like a war drum. Your curiosities are sated once you slide into your home, and the aroma is stronger here. Hearty, nearly lifting you into the air to carry you to the kitchen like one of those old-school cartoons.

You meander into your kitchen after dropping your pack by the door—by a pair of designer, red-stained loafers twice the size of your own feet. Your suspicions are confirmed when you catch sight of a familiar shock of white and broad shoulders nestled between your humble decor and drab cabinets.

Never mind how he got here because you’re reining in a giggle. He’s wearing the frilly Kiss Me apron you got him as a joke gift a few months back. Humming something, bobbing his head before he acknowledges you over a broad shoulder. His scarlet eyes are mirthful, and the soft grate of his voice is enough to put you to sleep.

“You’re home early.”

You smile, tired and swollen-eyed, leaning against the doorframe. Study him over crossed arms. He’s busy with something on the stove. Concocting something delicious, and your stomach reminds you that it’s empty and you’re cruel.

“Jenna kicked me out.”

His shoulders shake with a chuckle when he returns his attention to the pot and wooden spoon in his hands. “Good. I take it you’ve only sustained yourself on coffee and air today.” Stopping, he peers at you again, a knowing lift to his brow. 

You sputter, the heat of embarrassment prickling your neck. He knows you too well. You’re an ass who often neglects yourself, pushing food and sleep to the backburner in favor of shouldering everyone else’s burdens. 

You pout, caught red-handed. The man in your kitchen chuckles. Sets the spoon down, and you watch him stride across the tiles for something. 

He comes to you with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, already pouring the red, viscid fluid into a wine glass. Slender fingers brush over yours when he eases the glass into your hand. He angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied and red-blooded on the lips. A kiss that leaves you reeling. Craving more, the warm scent of his skin hijacking your senses as you tug on the collar of his shirt.

You whine when he pulls away, and he’s all smug smiles that crease the corners of his eyes when he steps back to tend to dinner.

A tide of warmth wades over your skin. You smile against the rim of your glass, grateful to have someone who knows you sometimes better than you know yourself.

Drinking might not be the best decision for you right now. But you haven’t the heart to tell him, watching with all the fondness of the world as he buzzes around the kitchen like a Disney princess.

—

Dinner will be ready in 30.

In the meantime, Sylus shepherds you into your bathroom, insisting you settle in with a bath. 

It’s lavender-scented inside your bathroom, the warm, wet steam washing over your cheeks. Greeted by the dull hum of the ventilation and the sound of rain lazily falling onto the world beyond your window.

You’re exhausted and hanging on by a thread. Don’t think you could manage the task of undressing on your own. So, he’s gentle as he props you on your counter, stripping you of your clothes, touching you like something to be revered.

His lashes bow when he swoops in to adorn your bare shoulders and the swell of your chest with kisses. Your body responds in kind when he nears your pebbling nipples, though he doesn’t grace them with the lazy drag of his lips. 

He promised you he would be good. At least until you’re washed up, fed, and comfortable.

He brands your skin to the crooks of your elbows, down to your wrists, your fingers. Catches your gaze when he kisses between the peaks and valleys of your knuckles, and the fire that burns beneath his irises sets your insides alight. 

Broad palms move down your sides, perch on your hips. He hefts you up with one hand fastened to your rear, and your arms and legs unconsciously shoot out to encircle him. He chuckles, swinging you ‘round, walking you to the tub. You’re the biggest baby when you’re tired, but he would never complain. He prefers you like this—all supple and pliant, desperate for the feel of his body against yours.

You watch the rose petals he sprinkled in your bathwater cling to your skin once you’re inside. And it works as a soothing balm through your person, the frothy water embracing you like a warm hug at the end of a tedious day. 

You sigh heavily, leaning back against the tub’s wall. Your eyes slide shut. You’re about to succumb to the pretty girls of slumber when the sound of shifting fabric alarms you. 

Sylus moves to leave, but your hands dart out to ensnare his wrist. He glances at you over his shoulder, a question hanging between his brows. 

“Stay,” you urge with a pout. Throw in watering puppy eyes for dramatic effect, laying the guilt on thick. 

He chuckles something hearty, settling onto the floor beside you. “I figured you could use some alone time. Besides, I’ve got dinner going. Do you want me to burn it? Cajun wasn’t on tonight’s menu, sweetheart.”

You huff. “You set a timer, right? It’ll be fine.” 

Truth is, he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this plane right now. A constant in a world filled with turmoil. Your security blanket. You never mind him impeding on your time, your space.

“Shall I help you bathe, then?” He doesn’t await your response, already reaching across you for your body wash and loofah. 

He’s tender as he works the soap into a rich lather over your shoulders. Honey-slow, dipping between the valley of your breasts, snickering when you instinctively arch into his touch when the material catches on your nipples. Once he’s satisfied your upper body is thoroughly saturated with suds, he maneuvers himself onto his haunches on the floor.

“Sit up,” Sylus instructs. You sluggishly obey, bowing forward to grant him access to your back. 

Lids shuttered, a content hum eases from your throat as he works out the knots and strain of your back. Smooths the loofah down the ridges of your spine, encircling one shoulder blade before moving onto the other. He’s gifted, trained in the art of your body. Knows just where to touch, to massage to get the cogs in your mind turning and your breaths evening out.

He dips the loofah into the water, and you giggle as it slides between the swell of your ass and the tub’s floor.

“Well, I can’t exactly get you clean when you’re sitting down like this.” 

Your gaze shifts to his. His eyes darken with something familiar, a smirk curving one corner of his lips as he salaciously cocks his head. 

You feel a pull in your tummy, and your lashes flutter, lips parting slightly. Without thinking, you position yourself onto your hands and knees, the water lazily sloshing about and licking your thighs. Curiously, you peer at him from over your shoulder and waggle your ass, playfully signaling for him to finish up.

Resigned, amused, Sylus works the loofah over the globes of your ass. Up and down the backs of your thighs. And it’s purposeful when, with each pass, he grazes your fat labia, peeking through the plush of your thighs. You shudder each time, a pleasant sigh escaping your mouth, and you wiggle to chase the harsh drag of the loofah, if only for him to mistakingly graze your clit with it.

He tsks behind you. “Sweetheart, we agreed this would only be a harmless little bath.”

How harmless could he expect it to be with him looking at you like that? Touching you like that, his palm branding your thigh whilst an errant thumb kneads the muscle there, dangerously close to the outskirts of your cunt?

“I changed my mind,” you relent in a breathy, needy whisper. And you’re rocking your hips this way and that, trying to lure his thumb into the catch of your pussy.

He laughs again, the sound of it murky, and you feel it furling in your chest. “As you wish.”

Your body vibrates with anticipation. You’re not made to wait long, a virile, wide palm stroking your legs apart. Soon after, you feel his thumb stroking down the expanse of your slit, and you jump, a shudder racking through you.

“Easy, darling,” he coos. Voice is thick as bourbon, and his thumb even thicker as he dips just the tip of it into your puckering sex.

He moves maddeningly slow as he collects some of your nectar on his thumb, smoothing it between your folds in search of your clit. He finds it with laser precision, stroking the distended pearl to life with meticulous circles that leave you baring down on nothing and moaning against the grit of your teeth.

A hand fastens around your hip. Massages one of your cheeks, holding you steady whilst he fucks his thumb into you slow and consistent, and the sticky squelch of your cunt soon fills the atmosphere as he works you into a mess of shaking tendons and sighs of “yes, yes, please. More. Fuck.”

Spurred by your words, he alternates between fingering you—trading out his thumb for his index and middle digits—and rubbing your clit. Ducks in to blister your rear with kisses, and you jerk, hypersensitive to every sensation, every sound. He pants softly behind you. Enjoys himself, watching you fall apart around his fingers, his girth pushing against the seam of his pants. He palms himself, kissing closer to your labia, the scent of it bewitching, and he wills himself not to add his tongue into the fray.  

He curls and pistons his fingers inside you, a frothy ring of lubricant collecting around the base of his digits. He eases a palm over the curve of your stomach to massage your tits and pluck your nipples, sweltering breaths fanning across your spine. 

You’re pushed closer to the precipice, towards that slurry edge of bliss. He murmurs words of praise against your skin, and you hump against his fingers like a beast in heat, chasing that sparkling rush. Chasing that crest of pleasure in your stomach, eyes screwed shut. Just a little longer. Just—

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Sylus quietly demands, pressing against that unfathomable knot of pleasure inside you. 

And as if he has some sort of hold on your body, the world falls away from you at his behest. Your orgasm ripples through you, spilling like lava, pooling in your stomach, and dripping to your extremities. Your mouth opens with a gasp. A shaky exhale with his name in it, and you pitch forward, catching yourself on your hands last minute before you nosedive into the water. 

He laughs behind you, roosting one hand on your hip and the other on your stomach to steady you. “Good girl,” he croons, rubbing your pulsing cunt with his fingers. “You look so fucking sexy when cum like that.”

You shiver, clearly overstimulated, and he resigns to help ease you back onto your rear in the bathtub, kissing the sensitive space behind your ear. 

He lures you into a languid kiss with gentle fingers beneath your chin. Licks into your mouth, groaning his approval as you lazily return his affections, loose-limbed and spent.

You prop the back of your head on the tub’s rim, lips still sealed to his, and Sylus rubs up and down your body to encourage you back down from the clouds. You whimper into his mouth when he pinches your nipples, catching his hands to twine your fingers together, the stimulation too much. 

He greedily milks what remains of your voice from your throat before drawing away from your lips with a sticky click to pepper your throat and shoulder with apologetic kisses. 

When your heart beats something steady, and your labored breaths slide into something more even, Sylus peels away. “Dinner’s ready,” he purrs, grin all toothy, smug.

You track his movements to the door through hooded eyes, a satisfied cant to your lips whilst you sink to your chin into the water, mind a delicious slurry and the tension between your shoulders nearly gone.

—

“You’re insatiable,” he breathes, hot and wanton, against your hinged-open mouth. 

You have him notched between your splayed legs on the kitchen counter, and his hands are on an unhurried mission over your thighs whilst you kiss him. Your arms snake about his shoulders, fingers, easing into delicate locks of white, and you slant your mouth possessively over his, sealing your bodies together.

Dinner cools on the stovetop. Stuffed chicken breasts, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus. All a labor of love that you promise to consume after you’ve consumed him, pushing your greedy tongue into his mouth.

His groan vibrates your tongue whilst his thumbs ease over the inner cut of your thighs, and he grazes your outer labia with each pass, sending satisfying jolts of electricity throughout.

The bath renewed you. Cleared the fog from your mind, stoked the fire of your libido. Which is why you ambushed him in the kitchen, seducing him into fucking you when he was just about to set the table. 

Your body rolls like waves licking the shore against his, your nipples rubbing against the harsh fabric of his shirt. 

He’d peeled the straps of your negligee down your shoulders, bunching the neckline beneath your tits. 

“Fuck me,” you exhale, grappling with the catch of his belt. Hands perched on your waist, he peers into your eyes, brows knit with the strain of reining in his desire.

“Can I at least get you to the bed first,” he breathes, gritting his teeth when your lips brand his Adam’s apple.

“Nope.” You finally pull his belt free, and you busy yourself with unbuttoning his pants.

He chuckles darkly. Shakily, propping his hands on the countertop on either side of your thighs, letting you do terribly distracting things to his neck with your mouth. He sucks in a breath when you palm him, hand hot and searing against the cotton of his briefs. Cranes his head back, and you exhale all triumphantly against his throat, hand dipping beneath the elastic waistband to fish him from the confines of his underwear.

“Fuck,” he curses through swollen lips. Cheeks dust with a pretty shade of crimson, and he twitches each time your hand smooths over the leaking tip of his cock. Each time you stroke down the shaft, back up to thumb his slit, smearing his pre-cum over him.

“Fuck me,” you order once more, licking behind his ear. Draw his lobe into your mouth to nibble it, and he groans something bitten off, a pliant mess of muscle and sinew beneath the artful glide of your hand.

With no further goading, Sylus encases your hips with his hands. Drags you impossibly closer toward the edge of the counter, replacing your hand on his cock with his. 

He strokes himself so well. Your mouth waters from the sight, your sticky, bare pussy clenching with anticipation. The predatory gleam in his eyes reads as one of restrained desire. Like a beast subdued behind a cage, giving you an out, a chance to escape.

You merely swallow, enraptured by the sight of him so desperate for you. So eager when, moments ago, he was resistant to your temptation. He fists himself once more, his weighted hand swallowing up the bulk of his cock. He taps his heavy dick against your folds, the sensation curving your spine and siphoning an unbidden whimper from your lips.

He undulates his hips, rubbing himself between your folds, saturating his turgid flesh with your essence. And oh, it feels so good when his tip bumps the pucker of your pussy. He teases you with the prospect of fucking you proper, drawing himself out to repeat the motion from before, each time digging a little deeper.

When he finally eases home, nestled deep in the hot channel of your sex, your rigid walls ravenously sucking him in, you share a breath out. His chest heaves when he looks at you. The need that lurks behind his gaze makes your cunt flutter, and his responding groan is strained with the effort of keeping still inside you.

You lean back on your hands. Give him the go-ahead with a flicker of your lashes, and then he’s moving inside you. Fucking into you like a well-oiled machine, and he lifts the hem of his shirt to watch your union. 

You watch the steady ripple of his abs, wanting to chase the sweat that beads between them with your tongue. For now, you’ll settle for enjoying the feel of him. Throw your head back, your heels hooking into the backs of his thighs, keeping him in motion. Refusing to let him go. 

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, do you know what you do to me?” 

A sweltering hand curls around your neck, squeezing with enough pressure to bring your pulse thrumming to your ears. His thumb finds the hang of your bottom lip, drawing your mouth open to ease it inside. Your tongue darts out to sample the taste of it. Wraps around the worn pad, and you close your lips around it to suck. 

He fucks into you harder, your eyes rolling back as his balls knock against your ass. Reluctantly draws his finger from the hot suction of your mouth, splaying his fingers down your sternum to where your bodies convulge. 

“You feel so fucking good, kitten,” Sylus breathes. Thumbs your clit, your body convulsing. “So good, squeezing me like that. Taking me like such a big girl. Look at you. So fucking good. Ah, fuck.”

That sparkling feeling pools in your stomach again. You grit your teeth, bowing forward to roost a hand on his shoulder. Your gazes interlock, and he’s so fucking beautiful like this, that carefully constructed composure giving way to something primal. Animalistic, and his hair falls into his face as he grips your hip to the point of bruising, mooring you to the countertop. Keeping you steady for him to ravage you.

After some time of skin slapping and desperate moans saturating the air, he twitches inside you. Hips stutter. Head falls back while his mouth hangs open, and he sighs, so relieved with one final stroke, molten spurts of cum painting your insides a gooey white. Branding down the inner cut of your thighs, puddling on the countertop.

You tug him into your arms, blistering his neck with open-mouthed kisses and the soft rake of your teeth. He shudders, leaning into you, propped on his hands on the counter, face nestled between your breasts.

You share a laugh as you massage his scalp. Relieved. And you’re patient as he softens inside you, stroking over the broad expanse of his back, cooing affectionate words against the crown of his head.