#Collar Strategy

[ilovedthestars]

there really are few emotions i find more compelling in a story than "you should be afraid of me. please don't be afraid of me"

[signode-blog]

Effective Trading Strategies Using Options

Options trading offers a variety of strategies that can be tailored to different market conditions, providing traders with flexibility and opportunities to manage risk. Here, we explore multiple options trading strategies, each designed to capitalize on specific market environments, including volatile markets, bull markets, bear markets, and consolidation phases. 1. Covered Call Overview A…

[sanguineterrain]

save me jason todd competency kink. jason todd competency kink save me. save me ja-

[thissying]

Max & GP and the team pre-race, GP Monaco, 2023

[silhalei]

Hmm... Viva la Revolution

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[expensiveusa]

White Collar Criminal Defense: Understanding the Complexities and Legal Strategies

White-collar crimes are non-violent offenses typically committed by individuals in business, corporate, or government positions, with financial motivations. These crimes encompass a wide range of fraudulent activities, such as embezzlement, insider trading, bribery, and money laundering, among others. The legal defense for individuals accused of white-collar crimes is a complex and intricate…

[itadorey]

𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 (?) 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄— gojo satoru

pairing: racer!gojo x race engineer!reader genre: formula 1 au, fluff summary: he's insufferable (and wants to ask you out) and you're just trying to help him win the championship notes: formula 1 has ruined my life. probably lots of inconsistencies but i sped wrote this. this turned out a lot longer than i initially planned. gn reader but mention of wearing a dress. word count: ~3.2k

It's hot.

Your nose scrunches up in mild disgust as you feel a bead of sweat trickle down your neck, quickly making it's way towards the collar of your shirt before it's wiped away with a soft towel.

"Thanks," you mutter, looking up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes accompanied by a swoon-worthy smile. You huff lightly at the wink Gojo sends your way, turning away slightly to let your eyes roam over the rest of the paddock. Your lips turn up into a smile when you catch sight of Geto Suguru walking past your garage, and you return his greeting with a wave of your own before you hear Gojo grumble from his place beside you.

"Fraternizing with the enemy," he says, annoyance coating his words. He crosses his arms, unintentionally flexing and drawing your gaze towards his torso. His black fireproofs fit him snugly, and you find your mouth going dry as you try your best not to ogle him. You wonder if the temperature's gotten hotter. "That's not very nice of you."

"He's not the enemy," you protest, turning away to grab Gojo's helmet before thrusting it into his chest. "He's your best friend."

"Off track he is," Gojo agrees, holding onto the helmet. He pulls you in slightly, raising a brow when you don't immediately let it go. "But on track, he's my biggest competition. So you should be focused on me, not him. He's only a handful of points behind me."

"I'd hardly call one hundred points a handful," you mutter, turning to the side to grab a clipboard. "I think you're guaranteed to win the championship this year. Plus, Megumi's been doing great as well. Kid is in third place and it's only his second year! I think we've got the constructor's in the bag as well."

"All I need is a couple of bad races and next thing you know, Geto Suguru is the 2024 World Champion."

"Bad races," you snort, guiding Gojo towards his car and shoving his balaclava into his free hand. "Gojo Satoru does not have bad races. I don't know how you do it. I feel like you never drop below second place."

"It's all thanks to those genius strategies of yours," Gojo quips, watching in amusement as you shake your head in mild disbelief. There's a soft glint in his eye that you never seem to notice, and he finds himself wondering if maybe he should be a little more obvious about his feelings. (Everyone else on the grid and even the majority of the fans know he has the hots for you, so really, you're just the densest person to exist).

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say, waving him off as you start to make your way towards the rest of your team. "Pull your suit up and go get settled in."

Gojo watches you for a couple of minutes, leaning against a cement column with his arms crossed. He doesn't know how, but watching you organize the team and go over your notes has become his pre-race ritual. He's so lost in thought that he fails to notice the cameras pointed at him, broadcasting the lovestruck look on his face for everyone watching the race live to see.

"Ready to go?"

Gojo snaps out of his daze when his team principal, Yaga Masamichi, comes up to him. There's a faint smirk on his lips as he motions towards you, his sunglasses hiding the teasing glint that Gojo just knows is present. "Or is there something you need to urgently discuss with your beloved race engineer?"

Gojo rolls his eyes but chooses to remain silent before pulling his balaclava over his head. He's abnormally quiet as he settles into his seat, and when he catches sight of you giving him a thumbs up from afar, he decides to ask you out right after he beats Geto and wins first place.

"Radio check."

"I can hear you loud and clear," you respond, your voice carrying the same lilt that Gojo's does. He laughs quietly, settling into the second position after the formation lap. A glance to his left leaves him scowling when he sees Geto flip him off, and he sighs deeply before realizing that his radio is still on. "Something wrong?"

"Just Suguru being an asshole," he responds, his irritation fading away when you attempt to choke down your laughter.

"Radio is still on," you manage to spit out. "Mind your language."

"You can reprimand me later," Gojo says immediately, well aware that his radio has probably drawn the broadcaster's attention. "Over dinner, maybe? Just you and me in the candlelight at that little Italian place you like."

"Win the race and then maybe I'll consider it," you hum, amusement tinging your words as you shake your head. Gojo can't help but pout when he realizes that you're dismissing his words as a joke, and he merely huffs before turning his radio off and telling himself that he has to beat Geto to the first turn if he wants any chance of winning this race.

It isn't long until lights out, and Gojo finds himself reacting just quick enough to push past Geto's car and take the lead. He catches a glimpse of Megumi gaining on Yuuji, eventually passing him and allowing him to start catching up to Geto. Seeing that his biggest competition is now being distracted by his teammate, Gojo turns his focus back to the track, trying to put as much distance between him and Geto as possible. A few laps pass before he hears his radio crackle to life, and he hears you speak softly so as to not startle him with the suddenness of your words.

"You're seven seconds ahead of Geto," you say, earning a hum of acknowledgement in return. "You also currently have the fastest lap so please focus on managing your tyres."

"The tyres are fine," Gojo's voice trills through your headphones. You glance over at Yaga, grimacing when you see him shaking his head.

"There's been reports of graining," you respond nonchalantly. "Please take better care of your tyres unless you want us to pit you earlier than planned and switch to plan B."

"Alright, whatever," Gojo grumbles, going quiet for a few seconds before speaking once more. "Now let me focus on driving. The sooner I win, the sooner I can see your pretty face."

You roll your eyes at his words, raising an eyebrow in confusion when Yaga fails to muffle his amused chuckle.

"Something funny?" you ask, leaning back slightly to look at the older man. He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the monitor in front of him. You roll your eyes briefly before turning back to the pit wall as well, ignoring the words Yaga mutters under his breath about someone being oblivious.

The race progresses smoothly, and you find yourself feeling thankful that both you and Tsumiki (Megumi's race engineer) have had an uneventful race so far. It isn't until the race is about a third of the way through that you finally turn the radio on again, holding out a hand to stop Tsumiki from doing the same. "Gojo? We are boxing next lap, do you copy?"

"Copy," he responds immediately, his tone uncharacteristically serious for once. "Are we sticking with plan A?"

"Yes, you listened for once," you confirm, nodding your head even though he can't see you. "You have enough of a gap that we can comfortably put you on hards and have you back in the top spot in no time. The track is warm enough for those tyres."

"I always listen to you," Gojo replies without missing a beat. "Anything you say goes."

A deep sigh is all he gets in return, and he can't help the small chuckles that leaves his lips as he finishes his lap and prepares to pull into the pit lane. The stop is performed without a hitch, and you sigh in relief when Gojo emerges in third place, only a couple of seconds behind Megumi. You exchanged nods with Tsumiki, and you turn your attention back to the monitor in front of you as she radios Megumi to come in for his pit stop next.

"Okay, Gojo," you speak when you see Megumi head into the pit lane. "We're getting Megumi in and out as fast as possible. Geto is about ten seconds ahead of you, it's time to push."

"Perfect, but not as perfect as you" Gojo sings, swearing as he takes a turn a little too wide.

"Make that eleven seconds," you correct, biting your lips to hold back a laugh when Gojo swears again. "Go do your thing. I'll keep you updated."

There's no response as the radio clicks off, and you find yourself wincing when you realize that Megumi's slow pit stop has dropped him down to fifth place behind Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna. You can hear hushed words coming from Tsumiki, and you can't help but feel bad for her predicament considering that Sukuna is the reason that Megumi hadn't been able to finish his race a couple of weeks ago after being pushed off track and into the barrier.

You watch with bated breath as the gap between Gojo and Geto begins to close, and you cross your fingers and hope that Shoko, his race engineer, will choose that moment to call him in for a tyre change. Your hopes go unanswered, and you're on the edge of your seat when Gojo managed to catch up to Geto after ten laps.

The air feels tense as you and Yaga watch Gojo get incredibly close to Geto, separating from him right as he turns a corner to avoid being hit. He's close to him— too close, you think— and you find yourself taking a deep breath to prevent yourself from turning on the radio to tell him to stop being so aggressive. A glance to your right tells you that Yaga isn't concerned with Gojo's driving, so you decide to let him be and see how the situation works out.

Your fingers grip onto your clipboard, knuckles going white as Gojo manages to swerve himself into the spot right next to Geto. You're slightly awestruck as you watch Geto and Gojo race wheel to wheel, their synchronicity impressive as they take tight corners and long straights in unison. There's a brief moment during which you wonder what it would be like if they were teammates, and you shake your head to clear the thoughts from your head. You fear that being teammates could damage their friendship beyond repair.

"There's been contact!" Yaga shouts, snapping you back to reality. You scramble for the radio button, a gasp leaving your lips as you watch Gojo swerve close to the edge of the track. You see Geto move in the opposite direction, and you quickly scan all the monitors before speaking to your racer.

"Gojo, there was contact but the car seems to be perfectly fine," you say calmly, watching as he straightens himself out and passes Geto. "That's P1."

"Great!" Gojo replies breathlessly, his voice sounding slightly strained. "How is Geto? Is he fine?"

You take a second to glance to the side, receiving a nod from Yaga before he motions to the pit lane. A soft call of your name has you turning your attention back to the radio, and you nod to yourself before updating Gojo. "He's fine, slight front wing damage so Shoko brought him in to get that changed along with his tyres. You're in the lead and we're waiting to see what the stewards will say about the incident. We think you might get a warning."

"Alright, better than a penalty," Gojo says, nodding to himself as he takes another turn. "Just a couple more laps and then I can take you out for that dinner."

"I said I'd think about it," you reply dryly, ignoring the giggle that leaves Tsumiki's lips. "Just bring it home. Geto had a bad pit stop so him, Yuuji, and Megumi are like fifteen seconds behind you."

"Whoa! Megumi made it past Sukuna? The kid's got balls."

"Language, Gojo," you remind him, sighing softly. "I'm turning the radio off now. Don't fuck this up."

"Language!" Gojo mocks, his laugh cutting out as you turn the radio off. You spend the last quarter of the race watching Megumi alongside Tsumiki, slightly impressed as Gojo manages to retain his now sixteen second lead. It isn't until Geto manages to break away from Yuuji and Megumi that you start to get nervous, and you watch as he begins to push the last few laps of the race.

"Gojo?" you ask, the radio crackling to life as you watch the monitors. "Just letting you know that Geto has managed to pull ahead of Yuuji and Megumi. I don't think he can catch up but there's still a couple of laps and he always manages to surprise us."

The silence you receive unsettles you, and you mutely turn the radio off and sit back to watch the end of the race. There's not much you can do but rely on Gojo to pull through, and you can vaguely hear Tsumiki talking to Megumi over the radio as he battles with Yuuji. You're on the edge of your seat when Geto manages to set the fastest lap in the race, and you begin to worry that he might be able to catch up to Gojo, only for your fears to be quelled when you realize that it is the final lap of the race.

"Last lap, Gojo!" you call out, turning the radio on in excitement. "Bring it home!"

"Last lap?" he asks, laughing breathlessly when he receives a hum from you. "How far behind me is the next car?"

"Fourteen seconds," you respond, bouncing your knee up and down in anticipation as he turns the last corner. The upcoming straight is the only thing between him and the finish line, and you feel your heart drop when Gojo's car suddenly starts to lose speed. "Gojo? Are you losing power?"

"Nope!" he chirps cheerily, humming softly to himself. "Are you feeling Italian? We can always choose a different restaurant for dinner?"

You do your best to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine, watching as Gojo trails towards the finish line at what can only be described as a snail's pace compared to the speed of Formula 1 cars. Your eyes widen when you see the gap between him and Geto close, and you do your best to not let your nervousness creep into your tone. "Gojo, is really not the time to be talking about dinner."

"But you're going out to dinner with me right?" comes his immediate response.

"Gojo, please hurry up and cross the finish line."

"Not until you agree to go out with me!" he trills. Yaga shoots you a pleading glance.

"Gojo! Please! Just win the race!" you beg, swallowing harshly as your fingers begin to tap against your clipboard. You catch a glimpse of the amused look on Tsumiki's face, but you're unable to give her the scathing glare you usually would due to the fear you're beginning to feel.

"I can stay here all day," he replies smugly, giggling to himself as he speeds the car up just to slow down once more. "Well I can't, but I can stay here until I cross the finish line in P20."

"Oh my fucking god," you nearly shriek, watching as Geto takes the final turn and begins to head down the straight. "Yes! Yes, I'll go out with you, Gojo! Now please just cross the damn finish line, you dumbass!"

"My pleasure!" he teases, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just in time to cross the finish line a second before Geto. A loud whoop leaves Yaga's mouth as everyone in the pit wall relaxes, too relieved by Gojo's win to instantly realize that Megumi has managed to cross the finish line before Yuuji. The cheers surrounding you sound muted as you put your head in your hands, trying to calm your racing heart and fight off a smile as you realize that you now have a date for the night.

You barely process anything as Tsumiki drags you towards the now parked racecars, and you try your best to ignore Shoko's smug smirk as she whispers into Geto's ear. You think it's safe to assume that she's filling him in on what happened with Gojo during the last lap.

His loud laugh accompanies by a friendly wink thrown your way confirms your assumption.

You stand near the back of the crowd as Gojo stands on top of his car, holding his pointer finger up and posing for pictures before leaping back onto the ground and proceeding to congratulate Geto and Megumi for their performances. You manage to catch his eye after a few minutes, and you feel your face grow warm when a genuine smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling as he makes his way through the crowd towards you.

"Congrats on P1," you say quietly, trying your best to ignore the way he's looking at you.

"All thanks to your genius strategies," he quips, repeating his words from earlier. The smile on his face tells you that he wants to make a suggestive comment, and you do your best to redirect the conversation before he can.

"You should probably head into the cooldown room," you comment casually, tilting your head in the direction that Geto and Megumi had disappeared to. "Podium celebration is about to start. Don't forget to get weighed."

"Don't forget to wear that pretty, red dress I like," he responds confidently. A surprised laugh leaves your lips at his comment, and you can't help but shake your head fondly as you finally look up at him.

"You know, you didn't have to give me a heart attack during the race. You could've asked me out after the race like a normal person. I would've said yes," you confess, becoming hyperaware of all the attention the two of you seem to be drawing.

"What can I say?" Gojo responds, shrugging half-heartedly as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's close enough that you can see the varying shades of blue in his eyes, and you resist the urge to jokingly push him away when he loops an arm around your waist. "I tend to have a flair for the dramatic."

"Oh boy, don't I know it," you whisper, not giving him the chance to respond before you loop your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. Both of you faintly register the whoops and cheers surrounding you, and you can't help but break apart from each other as laughter starts to bubble up in your throats.

It isn't until you fully pull away from him and usher him towards the cooldown room that you notice the sheer amount of cameras that have been pointed your way, focusing on the moment that has just been shared between the both of you. An embarrassed noise escapes your lips as you duck into your team's garage, giggling when you hear Yaga congratulating you loudly on your win. A smile spreads across your face as you settle into a seat to watch the podium ceremony, and you find yourself wondering if you and Gojo will manage to evade the press when you finally leave the track.

It's safe to say that the internet has a field day when the news of Gojo's end-of-race stunt and your spontaneous kiss breaks.

ty for reading!! rbs are appreciated <3

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here��?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

[ssahotchnerr]

Hello, I have a request. How about Aaron going costume shopping and Aaron loses her FOR A MINUTE before he finds her where all the princess and fairy costumes are. Like she is completely mesmerized by costumes that she doesn’t notice Aaron picking her up and saying “I’m reconsidering making you a leash kid, you know” but he doesn’t really mean it and she’s just pointing at a costume “I want this one, daddy!”

jumpscares

i changed this up a tiny bit but the overall concept is still there <33 cw; fem!reader, protective girl dad!aaron (small angst), jack calls reader mom, references to your usual cm violence, halloween and fluff!! wc; 1k

"Dad, c'mon." Jack whined in slight impatience and excitement, prying the door open and hanging back slightly on the handle.

"We can only move so fast bud." Aaron responded, maintaining his current pace. We as in Ellie. Her tiny legs limited her speed, she was practically skipping to keep up with just him. "The costumes aren't going anywhere."

With the holiday quickly approaching and Jack's insistent worries the cool costumes will be gone soon - while you ran necessary errands of your own, he had been tasked with taking the kids to the Halloween store.

Upon entering, Aaron lost Ellie's hand almost immediately as she halted, causing it to slip abruptly from his grasp.

She was frozen in place with her gaze directed forward, keeping a generous distance from the frightful animatronics greeting the three of them at the entrance.

A scowl was on her face; it didn't appear she wasn't necessarily scared, but a mix of disgust and worry were vividly present instead.

"They're not real sweetheart." Aaron tried to reassure, his gaze softening. "They're just decorations."

"I don't like that one." Ellie grabbed his hand, using her other to point at the menacing, horrific clown. "He looks mean."

"He does, doesn't he?" Aaron agreed, his mouth drawing into a pensive line as he played along. "But that's okay. They're meant to be for fun."

"They're not very fun."

The three began wandering through the display of frightful animatronics, led by Jack, a good idea in theory. Jack disciplinarily left Aaron's mouth a few times, as he attempted to get his sister to step on the sensors in order to get spooked.

Ellie ended up in his hold, gripping onto the collar of his t-shirt while Jack indulged himself in getting delightfully jumpscared. She merely watched, each burst of sound causing her to scoot closer into her father, more like her shield.

"Alright, let's find what we came here for." Aaron placed Ellie down, Jack beginning to browse as they reached the costumes. "It is a school night. We can't be out too late."

Selecting a costume, or even brainstorming an idea was bound to a lengthy task, the two of them utterly indecisive. Ellie adored every costume they passed, had to stop, look and point it out. Jack, on the other hand, was pursuing a more silent, observational strategy.

"Anything sticking out?"

"Maybe Spiderman?"

"You never stick to Spiderman." Aaron reminded him with a small smile, the fond memory of when Jack dressed up as him coming to mind - easily within his top five Dad moments of all time.

"Yeah... so maybe not that." Jack breathed out a huff, his eyes continuing to peer around. "Or we can all be superheroes." He poked an adult Batman costume, causing it to sway. "You can be this, and then Mom can be Wonder Woman or something."

Aaron nodded slowly, although he personally didn't plan on dressing up. But could he be persuaded by you and the kids? Maybe. "That could be fun."

"And then Ellie could be Spidergirl-"

Speaking of Ellie, she had grown suspiciously quiet - her chatter stopping altogether. Aaron's eyes shot down, only to find Ellie not besides him.

Jack was the one who verbalized it, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. "Where'd Ellie go?"

Panic immediately swept through him, his heart rate heightening and his body succumbing to a numbing freeze. Fuck.

Suddenly, he didn't know whether or not his knowledge of child abductions were an advantage or disadvantage; knowing how to act quickly, but also the unfortunate outcomes.

his mind instantly shot to the conversations he had with victim's familiies with what felt like daily. The scenario had turned- he was in their shoes. And just as they all stated in their interviews: He should've been paying closer attention. He only looked away for a minute. He knew these things - why did he look away?

Attempting to push the statistics in the back of his mind, he was on the move, Jack following right at his heels.

"Ellie?"

Luckily the fear was short lived; she was two aisles over, captivated by the girliest costumes one could imagine, very Ellie-esque.

"Eleanor." Aaron breathed out in relief as he saw his piggytail-headed daughter, sweeping her right off her feet again. "You know better than to wander off."

"I wanna be this." Ellie pried a princess costume off the rack, Aaron paused as he lifted her so she could remove it successfully. "Can I Daddy? I really wanna."

"Well, let's make sure it's your size." He took it, doublechecking and allowing his heart rate to calm down. Upon confirmation, his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure you want to be this? Or do you want to be a superhero with Jack?"

"I wanna be a princess." Ellie insisted, a pleading tone within her voice. "Pretty please?"

"Sure, if that's what you want. We'll have to find you a crown too, or use one from home, it doesn't seem to be included." She nodded as Aaron tucked the packaging under his elbow, allowing him to hold both it and her. However, his demeanor switched over to one more serious. "But hey, look at me please."

Her adjacent brown eyes met his own; a touch of fault, and sincereness. She knew she had disobeyed in one way or another. And whenever she did, it was written all over on her face.

"No running off, okay?" He instructed sternly, but gently. "It's really important I can always see you, and you can always see me. We don't want you getting lost, yeah?"

She shook her head. "That would be bad."

"Very bad. Mom would not be happy with me if I came home without you." Aaron affirmed, eyebrows raised. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes we do." She replied cheerily, oblivious to the heart attack she had just given her father. "No running away."

"Thank you." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, exhaling and the tension in his shoulders alleviating. Ellie was fine. No need for further panicking. Everything was fine.

And Jack, ever the dear, comically inputted, a witty grin plastered on his face. "Maybe Ellie should be the Flash instead."

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. New video for the Merc team and they rope the couple to answer questions in This or That. Which seems to be an instant hit among the internet. Feat their son, Jack. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

Unscripted Moments

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader, feat. Jack

Word count: 1.4k

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The sun was bright over Brackley as the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzed with activity. It was a special day—media day, where the team filmed content for their social media channels and sponsors. Among the lineup of activities, one stood out as a highlight: a “This or That” video featuring the Team Principal, Toto Wolff, and his wife, Y/n. To add an extra dose of charm, their young son, Jack, would join them.

The idea had been floated around for weeks. Fans adored Toto’s serious, calculated demeanor in the paddock, but whenever he appeared with Y/n and Jack, a different side of him came to life—one full of warmth, humor, and a little bit of mischief. The media team knew this would be gold, a perfect blend of light-hearted fun and family love that would resonate deeply with fans around the world.

As the day began, Y/n and Jack arrived at the headquarters, warmly greeted by the staff. Y/n was no stranger to the world of Formula 1; she had stood by Toto’s side through every victory and defeat, offering her unwavering support. Today, however, was different. It wasn’t just about the cars, the team, or the strategy. It was about their family.

Jack, bouncing with excitement, held onto Y/n’s hand as they made their way to the set. The production crew had transformed one of the spacious lounges into a cozy, living room-like setting. There were plush sofas, soft throw pillows, and a few framed photos of the Mercedes cars in action, giving the room a personal touch.

Toto, already on set, was talking to the director when Y/n and Jack walked in. His face lit up at the sight of them. “There’s my little man!” he exclaimed, scooping Jack up in his arms. Jack giggled, his tiny arms wrapping around his father’s neck.

Y/n watched them with a smile, her heart swelling with love. Toto was always busy, always on the go, but when it came to his family, he made sure they knew they were his top priority.

“Ready for this?” Toto asked, his voice light, but with an undercurrent of playfulness. He leaned in to kiss Y/n softly, his free hand resting on the small of her back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Y/n replied with a grin, adjusting the collar of Toto’s shirt before smoothing down Jack’s hair. “Jack’s been practicing his answers all morning.”

Jack beamed proudly. “I’m going to say ‘Airplane!’ every time,” he declared, which made both his parents laugh.

The director clapped his hands together, signaling the start of the shoot. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started. Y/n, Toto, Jack—you’re the stars today.”

The family settled into their seats, with Toto in the middle, Y/n on his right, and Jack perched comfortably on his lap. The cameras zoomed in, capturing the easy, loving dynamic between them. Toto’s arm rested casually behind Y/n, his hand occasionally brushing against her shoulder, while Jack fiddled with the buttons on Toto’s shirt, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Okay, first question,” the producer said, his voice lively. “Coffee or Tea?”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. “Tea, definitely.”

Toto shot her a mock-surprised look. “Tea? Really? I’ve been making you coffee every morning for years, and now you tell me you prefer tea?”

Y/n laughed, nudging him playfully. “You make it so well, I couldn’t break your heart by saying anything.”

Toto chuckled, shaking his head. “And all this time I thought I was being the perfect husband.”

“You are,” Y/n reassured him, leaning into his side. “Just with slightly misguided caffeine choices.”

The camera caught every bit of the banter, from Toto’s faux shock to Y/n’s playful smile. Jack, sensing the mood, contributed his own answer with a loud “Juice!” which earned a burst of laughter from everyone on set.

“Juice is a valid choice,” Toto said, ruffling his son’s hair affectionately. “But only when Mum’s not looking.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “Are you encouraging our son to sneak juice?”

Toto’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Only in emergencies,” he quipped, which caused Y/n to roll her eyes in mock exasperation.

The questions kept coming, and so did the laughs. “Mountains or Beach?” was next, and Y/n immediately answered, “Beach. There’s nothing like the sound of waves and the feeling of sand between your toes.”

Toto nodded thoughtfully. “True, but the mountains have their own charm. The peace, the quiet... Perfect for a getaway.”

“Perfect for escaping emails and phone calls, you mean,” Y/n teased.

“Exactly,” Toto admitted with a grin. “But honestly, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you two.”

The sweet comment made Y/n blush slightly, and the crew couldn’t help but let out a collective “aww.” Jack, who had been listening intently, chimed in with “Airplane!” again, sticking to his plan, which sent everyone into fits of laughter.

“Looks like Jack is sticking to his guns,” the producer said, still chuckling. “How about we change it up a bit? Dogs or Cats?”

“Dogs,” Y/n and Toto answered simultaneously, their voices merging into one. They exchanged amused looks, both remembering the countless times they’d been charmed by stray dogs during their travels.

“Especially the time we tried to bring one home from Monaco,” Y/n reminisced, her eyes sparkling.

Toto nodded. “That dog was convinced we were meant to adopt him. He followed us everywhere.”

“And he almost ended up in our suitcase,” Y/n added with a laugh.

“Jack would have loved him,” Toto said, glancing down at his son, who was now pretending to be a dog, barking softly.

“Maybe one day,” Y/n mused, resting her head on Toto’s shoulder.

The producer, sensing the perfect segue, moved on to the next question. “Formula 1 or Football?”

This one took a moment. Y/n grinned, knowing where her loyalties lay. “Formula 1, of course. How could I choose anything else when I’m married to this guy?”

Toto smiled, a bit bashful under the attention. “I’d have to agree, but,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I do enjoy a good football match. Just don’t let the drivers know.”

The cameras caught the playful exchange, the way Y/n playfully nudged Toto, the fond look in Toto’s eyes as he gazed at her. Jack, meanwhile, shouted “Cars!” in a burst of excitement, once again steering the conversation back to his favorite subject.

“You know what, Jack?” Toto said, shifting his son slightly so he was facing the camera. “One day, you’ll be in one of those cars, and I’ll be on the pit wall cheering you on.”

Jack’s eyes widened with delight at the idea. “Really, Daddy?”

“Absolutely,” Toto replied, pressing a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “But first, you have to promise Mum and me that you’ll always have your juice.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head at the promise. “That’s one way to secure his focus.”

The producer smiled, flipping to the final card. “Morning person or night owl?”

Y/n and Toto looked at each other, this time with more serious expressions, though still laced with affection. “Night owl,” Y/n said with a knowing smile.

“I’m a morning person,” Toto countered, “though I’ve learned to appreciate the night more because of you.”

Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing. “You’re sweet. But you have to admit, some of our best conversations happen late at night, after Jack’s asleep, when it’s just the two of us.”

Toto nodded in agreement, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. Those are the moments I cherish most. Even if it means less sleep.”

Jack, who had been listening carefully, suddenly yawned, earning another round of laughter from the crew. “Looks like someone’s not quite sure if he’s a morning person or a night owl yet,” Y/n said, wrapping her arm around Jack and drawing him close.

The session wrapped up soon after, with the family exchanging warm goodbyes with the crew. As they walked off the set, hand in hand, the cameras continued to roll, capturing those unscripted moments that showed just how close-knit the Wolff family truly was.

When the video was finally released, it was an instant hit. The internet exploded with love for the Wolff family, with fans praising their natural chemistry and the way they made every moment feel genuine and full of heart. Jack became an overnight sensation, with his “Airplane!” answer and infectious smile winning the hearts of millions.

“More Wolff family content, please!” was a common comment, along with “Jack is the real MVP!” and “Toto and Y/n are couple goals!”

[signode-blog]

Effective Trading Strategies Using Bearish Options

Options trading offers a versatile toolkit for traders to navigate various market conditions. Bearish options strategies, in particular, are designed to profit from declining markets. This comprehensive guide will explore several effective bearish options strategies, detailing how they can be applied across different market conditions, including volatile markets, bull markets, bear markets, and…

[worldsover]

Iff ft. Yujin

length ✦ 10.9k

genres ✧ breeding, as in breeding breeding, as in actual pregnancy kink; degrading petplay; NEVER underestimate my lack of sanity; super subby puppy gf with baby fever!Yujin

✦✧✦✧✦✧

It is necessarily true that there exists an ideal number of offspring for each human female from a purely genetic standpoint. Our distant ancestors who survived countless millennia of famine, warfare, and disease were those whose genomes encoded a certain target number for offspring; this number was close enough to just above two children that random fluctuations in fertility could never deviate much below or above that figure. For these women, at least, natural selection would penalize having either fewer or more children than their genes desired, as this would diminish the proportion of their offspring in subsequent generations. This principle extends even today: A 2021 study by Hutchings revealed significant variability in the number and size of offspring among species, driven by genetic and developmental factors. This suggests a non-fixed ideal number of offspring, adapting to societal changes and living conditions.

Even after tens of thousands of years, we are still these animals. That is, Homo sapiens sapiens does not differ greatly from its parent species Homo sapiens when it comes to such biological imperatives as sex and reproduction. Yet only a fraction of people maintain a lifestyle that mirrors contingent strategies favored by evolution, resulting in a massive imbalance between evolved psychology and modern life. Although humans may no longer face the constant threat of starvation posed by an unforgiving wilderness, problems evolve in the same way—we do not have nearly enough children to replace the adult population, at least in many developed countries. The United States, Canada, Australia, and many European countries are experiencing population decline, but nowhere is this phenomenon more exacerbated than in East Asia, with particularly acute examples in China, Japan, and South Korea. Our subject for examination lies within the context of the latter nation, wherein perhaps a solution may be found through the example of Ahn Yujin.

You and Yujin are going to work toward fixing this new, evolved problem by starting a family. With her fervor and your virility, you just might do this single-handedly—if not, at least you two will leave that target number in the dust. The world will thank you, and you, the world, for yielding you Yujin. The future is assured, so long as you can satisfy your breeding needs.

Yujin fits the archetype for having large numbers of offspring: there must have existed designs for Yujin's body as the template for prolific breeders. Even the most conservative anthropologist would admit Yujin's hips are ideal for childbearing, especially in proportion to her height. Her breasts are not the largest, but they are certainly sufficient enough for breastfeeding—and if not that, at least your own tit-sucking pleasures. Her lithe body was built to breed, and above any physical attributes, the mind within only confirms that impression.

She is eager, insatiable, and obedient. You tell her to strip, and she is naked in seconds. You tell her to go on all fours, and she is on all fours. You tell her to put her lips around your cock, and she is deepthroating you in an instant. And when you tell Yujin that she's now your little puppy to train and use as you please, she follows your command gladly.

Her greatest fantasy is being bred hard and often, and this is the fantasy most oft fulfilled by you, her master. It starts with the collar around her neck: an innocuous thing, leather and black, with a silver buckle in the front, and a ring in the back through which you put a leash. When she has that collar on, she is not the confident, witty, ambitious woman who commands everyone's attention—she is your pet, "Puppy", as so engraved in delicate silver script on the black leather.

The collar rarely leaves her neck at this point, a couple of years into your relationship. By now, she's your live-in pet.

You don't even remember the last time you used a condom. That was months ago, at least—a year? Ever since she moved in, you've been savoring Yujin's raw, slick walls on your cock, and she gets off on the all-filling feeling of your semen seeping into her fertile womb. If it weren't for the pill, Yujin would have been knocked up long ago. Despite that, each time you make love, you talk about breeding, playing at dreams of impregnating her with plenty of pups. She moans "please" on each thrust, and you know exactly what she's begging for when she whispers that "Master's cum is gonna be Daddy cum any day now." When the two of you are ready, there is no doubt that Yujin will become the mother of your children.

You and Yujin have many ways of making love, ranging from rough hair-pulling to gentle adoration. But one element always remains the same: the collar that transforms her into a wild, lustful creature, erasing all thoughts as soon as it's clasped around her slender neck. Her urgent pleas for you to release your load deep inside her are often met with little resistance, but occasionally you like to make her work for it—teasing and edging her until she whines and begs, this desperate bitch in heat. Then, you offer her a choice: continue being edged for another hour or allow yourself to impregnate her with your potent seed, guaranteed to result in triplets. Which will it be?

The answer, of course, is that both are correct. Why should we deprive ourselves of what nature gave us? If one woman loves being bred, why not breed her constantly? If another wants to be edged, why deny her? False dichotomies like these remain pervasive. Be sexually dominant or submissive; enjoy sex or romance; fuck like rabbits or make love tenderly—these can all exist together, if we so allow them to.

For example, there are always two women at play with your girlfriend: the Yujin who is a vibrant social butterfly, curious and never satisfied with sitting still; and the Yujin who lives and breathes your cock in daily routine, the Yujin who will happily let you lock her away in a dark room if you promised to give her your cum. You love both Yujins: a charming conversationalist, always cool and collected; a horny, obedient slut, who you train to do tricks in exchange for cum, who will only bark if her master so demands. There is no need to choose between these two Yujins, and you would not dream of doing so.

Or, consider the most misleading of dilemmas, being a young couple with kids, or being a young couple that stays together. Humans have grown rich enough and powerful enough to craft a society where the worst thing that could happen to a young couple—pregnancy at an inconvenient time—no longer threatens them in the same way. Now that people no longer have to marry their first stable match or die alone, now that everyone has gotten a little bit smarter and more independent, the universe is filled with possibilities for love and affection. This future child you make with Yujin could grow up in an environment where they would want for nothing, especially not siblings, for you'll give them plenty to spare. Thus, to knock Yujin up is hardly the disaster it would have been in our primitive past. Rather, you both should celebrate it.

This is not to say that every single person is the same. Not many women are as dedicated to the goal of impregnation as Yujin, and not many men are as driven to fill a receptive body with their progeny as you are. The series of coin flips and card draws that led to your personalities, to this relationship that binds you, is quite unlikely to repeat itself.

Yujin recognizes the rarity of the match. Even in the first meeting, she was as astute as a hunter dog, scenting prey, noting all the signs in the forest that you were the one. That night, after your friend invited Yujin to the bar, small talk quickly became deep conversation. Yujin asked your opinion on something. You gave it. Yujin replied, "Oh, I like a guy who takes charge." A few minutes later, she said she had to use the bathroom. She left her purse with you. Yujin did not return for another ten minutes, and when she did, it was with flushed cheeks and sweat on her brow. You asked her what took so long, and she answered, "You're so hot. I might have… been doing something naughty."

"Bad girl," you said.

At this point, your friend knew to leave.

You understand that Yujin is still the same girl, only with more of herself exposed to you—not just literally. She's been hinting at the concept of properly mating for weeks now, but she needed you to make the first move. It's a bit like old times, the nights after you met, the weeks you danced around each other's desires. Whenever she hinted at her interest, you weren't stupid enough to be oblivious—every word dripped with innuendo, every glance a flirt, every movement an invitation. But you built tension with purpose. She was too special to sleep with on the first date. In much the same way, what was once mere fantasy, empty talk of impregnating Yujin during sex, is starting to take on the shape of reality. In this sense, here returns Yujin the hunter dog, searching for a new quarry: your future family.

However, this is not lust alone. The chemicals that control desire can't do all the work in this relationship. When Yujin asks you more frequently about your opinion on having kids, you don't ignore it as simple pillow talk; she is gauging your willingness to commit. Because you love her, because she's right for you, past the sex and the fantasies, you take her seriously. Yujin speaks with infectious enthusiasm about her friends who have recently become mothers, all of whom are convinced that you two would make fantastic parents. Casually, she mentions she's not taking birth control anymore.

"I might be ovulating soon." "The doctor said I'm in my prime right now." "Do you think I'd be a good mother? You'll be a good daddy, for sure."

To that last question, you assure her, over and over, with the certainty that Yujin deserves. "The best mommy. I promise."

You find her researching baby names. Starts looking up parenting tips and ideas for nursery decorations. She's even helped you plan out your dream family home. There's something different about how Yujin looks at you. She's thinking about pregnancy, not just as a topic of conversation, not just as a fetish, but as a goal.

Concerns and fears, worries and hopes, you discuss them thoroughly, sometimes after sex, when Yujin is too tired to move and she lies in bed with your cock still inside her, cum on her lips, your hands around her belly feeling her body and dreaming of what it might become. Talks of plans become more and more serious as you set aside money and time for this future family, thinking about moving out from this modest apartment to a proper house. But ultimately, here is Yujin, in your arms, by your side, an angel's face, eyes stolen from the stars as they twinkle.

Like when you first fell in love, everything lovely about Yujin becomes magnified, so how could you deny her? You hold her close and promise that you'll do anything to make her happy, to make her dreams come true. She whispers back, "I know. I've never felt so loved."

It isn't long before Yujin becomes more brazen. As you try to fall asleep, you hear wet sounds next to you as Yujin's fingers dive in her pussy, presumably to the idea of you impregnating her. The next morning, she confirms your suspicions, this time sending you a video from the bathtub as she masturbates and talks dirty about how much she worships your cum. She sends you amateur porn of women taking three creampies three times in a row, or pregnant women squirting milk onto the camera lens while riding a man.

Then, there's the actual sex between the two of you. "Do you want to knock me up? Come on, let's just do it now. Please? Can't you tell I need it?"

You're glad to continue teasing and edging Yujin until her desire is too much to bear, her eyes watering and face contorted with desperation. Her raw pussy tightens around you even more, begging for release. You tell her it's up to Master before pulling out and spraying cum over her stomach. Obedient as ever, she cleans it up and swallows it down but her frustration is clear—she wants to be filled completely. You're truthfully equally as ready to impregnate Yujin, sooner rather than later; you want to watch your seed blossom within her, want to see her stomach swell, her tits fill up with delicious milk, and her nipples grow fat with lust. The smell of her slick sex is intoxicating whenever you slip a hand down her pants, or spread her pussy wide open to taste.

After settling all the necessary financial and personal matters, Yujin stays busy with buying pregnancy tests, making lists, and studying every bit of advice on how to conceive. You each tell your families that you're trying, which is a funny way of saying "I'm going to fuck enough sperm into your fertile daughter that she's guaranteed to bear our children, and we're going to do it so often that she might as well never leave my cock," but you suppose that "trying" is the more polite way of putting it. Yujin's mother has already started preparing the nursery, and your parents are talking about visiting to help watch over her when she gets farther along in the pregnancy. You're ready to move into your new place, but not before this apartment where you first made love has its proper send-off.

You thought you'd witnessed the limits of Yujin's vulnerability. However, you've never seen your girlfriend quite as desperate, needy, and pathetic as you do on the morning you decide it's time to breed Yujin.

For days, you've teased her relentlessly—marked her bare neck with bruises and bite marks, denied Yujin her collar until she's earned it, edged her with your fingers and mouth, fucked her fast and rough, used her as a living fleshlight, edged her more with toys. Made her watch as you jacked off onto her abs, fed her a throatful, or plugged up her ass with a thick load.

"Master, please," she begged, over and over, as her pussy clenched on nothing. With her body painted abstract expressionist—soaked in cum like you're marking territory—you needed multiple towels to clean the slumberous Yujin so that the sheets weren't too sticky. Left one towel under her legs to catch her dripping arousal. By the time she went to sleep last night, her guts were full of your cum, while her mind was void of all thoughts except for one: the place your seed had yet to reach, aching to be fulfilled like the rest of her body.

When you wake early and find Yujin's body pressed against yours in bed, her sleep is fitful, due to this very lack of semen inside her womb. She tosses, turns, her body hot. You touch her forehead with your hand to check for a fever, but it's just the heat of her arousal making her sweat. You run your fingers down her spine. Her skin feels flushed. Looks it too, how red her cheeks are. The sun has barely begun its ascent, so its color makes her glow further. Your fingertips reach her tailbone, then slip lower, where you press against her clit. Her breathing quickens as she rouses awake, and you pull your hand back.

With each breath, her tits rise and fall; they feel heavier than usual in your hands. The mingled scents of sweat and sex surround you, but beneath it all is an added note that stirs your arousal. It's a familiar smell, one that always drives you wild. You recognize the telltale signs of Yujin's hormones going into overdrive, intensifying her already insatiable desires. Her nipples, already normally sensitive, become almost painfully hypersensitive to every touch. She can't get enough of your scent, pressing her nose against your chest, armpit, neck, and groin—anywhere she can inhale your intoxicating musk.

It's time. Yujin is ovulating today.

Yesterday, you checked the calendar and the apps and the notes; however, none of the charts factor the most important variable: your instincts. Yujin looks so damn adorable when she wakes up, eyes bleary, hair disheveled, mouth still sticky with drool, legs spread, and a wet spot in the towel from where her pussy has been leaking—this was always going to be the day.

You gently stroke behind your puppy's ear, brushing her cheek with affection. "Morning, my love" comes out as your softest whisper.

Yujin stirs in response, nuzzling her head against your shoulder as she slowly wakes from her slumber. She yawns and blinks several times before finally locking eyes with you, a sleepy smile spreading across her face. "Good morning, Master," she says, shifting closer to give you a gentle kiss on the lips. Then another ten kisses. Twenty. "I had the weirdest dream."

You smile against her lips as you run your fingers through her tousled hair. "Do tell."

She seems to remember that you've been edging her for days, her thighs rubbing together, the scent of her slick arousal thick in the air. Yujin giggles and buries her face in your chest. When she finally looks up again, her cheeks are tinged red, and Yujin avoids your gaze. "I dreamed… that you were fucking me—"

"Of course," you interject, grinning. You reach down between her legs, returning to her folds, feeling how hot she's gotten overnight. It takes no effort to slide one finger inside your girlfriend.

"—and then you came inside of me, and it was so warm, and I was so full, and…" Yujin trails off as you add another finger. "And then the next day, I felt different. Like something inside of me changed."

"Oh?" Your hand moves steadily in and out of her tightness as she speaks.

"Yes," Yujin murmurs, her breath coming out in short gasps. "It felt like there was a weight in my stomach, but not physically. It was hard to explain, but it just felt off."

You continue to pleasure Yujin with your fingers, watching as she writhes beneath you. She lets out a whimper at the sensation and spreads her thighs wider for you. As her body responds to your touch, she whispers with breathless urgency:

"So I put my hands on my tummy, trying to figure out why things felt so off, and then... Oh! I can't believe I'm telling you this!" she exclaims, hiding her face in your chest again.

"Everything. I want to hear the whole dream." You push deeper, curling your fingers inside her, searching for her G-spot. She moans, and you hear the faint squelching of her slick leaking out.

"Master!" she says, panting, louder, gasping for air. "I—oh god—I just knew it! I had your pups inside me. I knew, because my belly felt heavy, and my body felt strange, and there was a pressure on my chest, and, and my nipples were so, so sensitive, and when I touched them, milk came out, and—" Yujin cuts herself off with another sharp yelp, your fingerfucking reaching a crescendo. "Master! Please!"

You chuckle. "That was quite vivid, puppy." Withdrawing digits from your girlfriend's warmth, you sit up and position yourself behind her, pressing her soft curves into your body—she's always been such a perfect fit, in your lap, in your arms, in your life. On your cock too, as it nestles comfortably between her round, plump buttocks.

She shivers at your touch, and you know from the tremble that Yujin's close to her peak.

"Today."

Yujin's eyes widen in surprise as you utter the single word. It's almost magical, the way that one word can turn a dream into a reality more than any other before it. You understand her desires and share them with equal passion—although, at this moment, could anyone want anything as much as Yujin right now? Her breathing hitches even more as desire floods through every inch of her body. Her glazed eyes stare back at you with pure love, the dilated pupils barely showing any trace of color.

You nod, confirming what she already suspects. "Yes, Yujin, today is the day."

A single tear gathers at the corner of her eye, threatening to spill over. Her voice quivers and trails off as she struggles to speak. "Master..." Her breath catches in her throat. "Are we really... going to—"

You lean in and capture her lips with a deep, passionate kiss. "Yes," you whisper against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "We are going to have a baby. Babies."

She moans loudly against your lips, unable to contain her excitement, as she grinds her body against yours. "Nngh, oh my god, yes, yes! Yes, I want to have my Master's puppies! Please, please, fuck my pussy, breed me, I love you, make my womb yours, breed me, breed me, breed, m-me, mmmh—" Her babbling dissolves into a series of incoherent noises, her mind lost to the lustful haze of your touch.

You reach up and grasp Yujin's nape firmly but gently, pulling her closer to you. "You'll be a good puppy for Master today, won't you?" You raise an eyebrow expectantly.

Yujin murmurs and whines, sounding like a dog who has been chastised, though she nods quickly.

"Good. We'll have all day today, and the whole weekend to fuck, to fill you with my seed. You can be as loud as you want. I don't want you to restrain anything. I want to see you lose yourself completely, and I don't care who hears. Fuck the neighbors. We'll be leaving soon anyway." Your smirk widens.

Stroke her cheek, then pat her head and point to the floor next to the bed.

"On the ground, puppy."

Yujin slides off the edge of the mattress and kneels, her eyes never straying from your length, soft and hanging between your legs. A small gasp escapes her lips as she leans closer to your cock, her tongue slipping out between her teeth in anticipation. She releases a soft hum, murmuring, "I adore your scent, Master." With reverence, she snuggles against your cock with her cheeks and forehead, inhaling deeply as if testing the notes of a fine wine. Her lips part and her tongue darts out to cover your balls with her saliva. She finds pleasure in drooling on them, feeling their weight, and hearing you moan with enjoyment when she takes both in her mouth. As she feels the tension building between her thighs, she rubs them together for some relief.

She wraps her arms around your thighs and pulls herself closer, burying her nose in your crotch. As Yujin looks up at you, between big and pleading eyes, your shaft lays on her face, covering her mouth and nose. Every expression of submission, lust, and desperation hardens your cock. None match her unflinching smile while she lathers your sack in attention and spit.

Though her voice is muffled by your sack, she whimpers anyway, "Pwease, Master, cahn, I suck yow cock? So… yummy, mmnh." She lets each ball pop out of her mouth slowly, lines of drool connecting them to her glistening lips.

On this small hunt, Yujin's hand snakes towards your groin, but you don't plan on letting Yujin wring your balls dry so easily; you swat her hand away. "Ah-ah. You said you'd be a good girl."

Yujin's head drops in shame, her apology barely audible.

"What was that? Speak up," you demand.

She takes a deep breath before speaking louder. "I'm sorry, sir."

You place your palm gently on top of her head, relishing the softness of her fur beneath your fingertips. "What a good little puppy!" You say it with a hint of scorn, just the way she likes it - you can tell by the way she shivers in anticipation. Your voice turns serious. "If you want a treat, you have to earn it, right?"

Yujin nods eagerly, her eyes still downcast.

"Let's make sure you remember your tricks first."

With hopeful anticipation, she looks back up at you. It has been months since you've gone through this routine, the times the two of you delved deeper into this kink. When you first broached the subject, Yujin had played coy, but she took to it so naturally. And now, she's back in character perfectly. You run your hand through her hair, scratching behind her ear like an indulgent owner would for their well-behaved pet. Yujin leans into your touch, panting softly in contentment as she nuzzles against your hand.

"Sit," you order.

Your obedient pet Yujin complies at once and sits upright on her haunches. Her posture is impeccable, with knees pressed together, hands neatly resting on her thighs, and back straight as a rod. You hold out your hand with the palm facing up, and she eagerly places her chin in it. As she gazes up at you with adoration and trust shining in her eyes, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and ownership over this beautiful creature. It's moments like these that make you believe she was truly made for this canine role.

"Stay," you command, your intense gaze bearing down on Yujin. She fights to remain motionless, every muscle in her body trembling. But she is not a perfectly trained robot; sometimes a bratty, needy side emerges from within her. Rising from the bed, sheets rustling underneath you, you hold out your cock in front of her face. As if to say, look, here's the toy, puppy, as if daring her to lick it. You could thrust it into her mouth like a gloryhole and she wouldn't even flinch. But that's not why you're here. You're testing her. As if sensing your thoughts, she parts her lips slightly and you can practically smell the saliva building up in her mouth. Not good enough. In response, you smack her face with your hard length, the sound reverberating through the room. "Stay means stay," you remind her firmly.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath and squeezes her eyes shut, fighting to regain control over her body. After a few moments, she steadies herself and stares straight ahead, ignoring the throbbing member in front of her with impressive discipline.

You run your fingers through the soft fur of her head and praise her, "Such a good girl." With your other hand, you hold out your palm and command, "Paw." Yujin doesn't hesitate; she places her paw gently in your hand and allows you to shake it. A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you see how easily she follows your commands. "And now, roll over."

Yujin's cheeks flush a bright shade of pink as she gets onto all fours before she rolls onto her back, fully exposing herself to you. The warm morning sunlight streams through the bedroom window, highlighting every curve and dip of her flawless skin. Her wet pussy is on full display, inviting and tempting you further. Every subtle movement of her hips captivates you as she meets your gaze with adoration and devotion shining in her eyes. A shy grin plays on her lips, but there is no doubt: Yujin loves being your devoted puppy, always eager to please and serve you in any way possible.

Yujin lies sprawled out on the cool, hardwood floor of your bedroom, her body aching with desire. Her thighs are parted wide, exposing her glistening, craving pussy to you. The scent of arousal fills the air as she squirms impatiently, her clit protruding from its hood in a swollen and red state. You can see the evidence of hours of teasing and foreplay in the puffy, engorged state of her labia. As you lean down and run your fingertips over the softness of her inner thighs, Yujin shudders under your touch, her muscles tensing and trembling with pleasure.

"Such a good girl. Just a few more, then you get your treat," you whisper, your voice low and seductive. "On your feet, puppy," you say, accompanied by a finger gesture.

Yujin rises gracefully, her arms lifting high above her head and crossing at the wrists. As she arches her back, pushing out her chest, she bites her lip and gazes at you with an intense longing. You come closer. As you cup her breast gently in your hand, Yujin shudders under your touch. To your caress, she arches deeper while she presses herself into your palm. Her body silently pleads for release from the building tension within her—she's not so silent. You continue to massage and explore her soft flesh, feeling the heat radiating from every inch of her skin. When you pinch her nipple between thumb and forefinger or knead the pliant tissue beneath your fingers, Yujin lets out soft whimpers.

Her nipples are hard as diamonds, and a hair's trigger away from causing another orgasm so soon with their sensitivity. They look delectable and you can't resist giving them the attention they deserve. It's also practice for when Yujin is pregnant, as you plan on sucking on them regularly then. Your lips start at her collarbone, eliciting moans from Yujin, before moving down to dive into the valley of her cleavage. You kiss and nip at the pale, sensitive skin of her tits before finally reaching her buds. You lose track of time as you lavish attention on Yujin's breasts, slicking them with your saliva until she looks like she's about to pass out in pleasure—the puppy truly is so sensitive there. But she stands strong for you, eager for more.

"Oh, god," you murmur huskily, your voice dripping with desire as you imagine Yujin's full, milk-filled breasts in your hands. "I can't wait to see them when you're pregnant. So much milk, so juicy and ripe." A smile spreads across Yujin's face at your words, her eyes shimmering with a combination of desire and love for you. You clear your throat. "Now, bow."

With practiced grace, she drops to her knees and bows her head in submission, her forehead touching the ground. Her long hair tumbles around her face, tickling her flushed cheeks. As she lifts her head to peek up at you through her thick lashes, a slight smile plays on her lips. She is proud of herself for remembering all the tricks, but her expression is still pleading for more.

"Mmm, turn around. All fours. One last time."

She complies, getting onto all fours and arching her back to present her ass to you. Her legs spread wider, revealing the slick pink folds of her pussy, glistening with moisture and awaiting your touch. For further measure, with one hand on each cheek, she pulls apart the mounds of her ass to expose her tight puckered asshole. Her juices flow freely down her thighs, leaving a trail on the hardwood floor beneath her as she quivers with anticipation.

"Well done," you praise, lowering yourself to the cool floor to caress Yujin's head, back, and firm ass. You run both your index and middle fingers along her slick slit, feeling the heat emanating from her core. With two fingertips against her entrance, you spread open her folds to inspect how ready she is for you before pushing in. Yujin moans and grinds her hips against your hand, craving more of your touch. You chuckle and withdraw your fingers from your girlfriend's dripping pussy; they glisten with her sweet nectar as you hold them up for her to see, like delicate strands of silk. You'd say she's ready.

She whimpers at the sudden lack of touch and watches intently as you lift your slick-covered digits to her nostrils. She inhales deeply, bites her lower lip, and squirms, her breathing ragged and quick.

"Does my little pup enjoy the scent of her own arousal?" you ask, a smug grin on your face. "That's the smell of a fertile bitch, eager to be bred."

Yujin eagerly nods her head, her eyes shining with desire as she opens her mouth, inviting you to let her lick your fingers clean.

You smirk at the display of submission; it sends a thrill down your spine, a jolt straight to your cock. "Beg like a good dog," you command, "then you can have my fingers to suck on."

After a deep breath, she barks like a loyal canine, then whimpers in need. Her voice is barely audible as she pleads for what she desires. "Please," she begs, her words coming out in soft whines like a dog begging for scraps. "Master, can I please suck on your fingers? I need it so badly." You let out a small chuckle at her plea, knowing that Yujin has been eagerly awaiting this moment. You smear some of her juices onto her cheek, causing her to instinctively try and lick them off but she quickly restrains herself.

You shake your head and tut disapprovingly, making a mental note to be stricter with Yujin during her training sessions. "Not quite good enough," you reprimand her lightly. Tears begin to prick at the corners of Yujin's eyes at your rejection and she sniffs back a sob. "Master..." she starts again, only to have her voice break off into whimpers and heavy breathing. "P-please let me taste myself on your fingers. I know I've been a dirty whore but you take such good care of me and my needy pussy. And I-I'm sorry for making a mess on your fingers but please, please let me clean them." Her words are rushed and desperate as she begs for your approval.

You're amazed at how well Yujin can act in these moments, pulling out all the stops to get what she wants. You suppose the intense teasing and edging you subject her to only adds to the sincerity in her words. Finally, you hold your fingers out to her, tracing teasing circles on her lips. Yujin obediently parts her mouth and takes your digits inside, her tongue swirling and dancing along the surface with eager diligence. She sucks harder, hollowing her cheeks and drawing your fingers deeper, until a low moan escapes from deep within her throat, causing a pleasurable vibration against your skin. Her gag reflex kicks in when the knuckles of your fist brush against the soft palate of her mouth, but she pushes through it, determined to please you.

As you slowly withdraw your fingers from her quivering, red lips, a slick sound echoes throughout the room. Your eyes are dark with hunger as you gaze down at Yujin, who looks up at you with adoration and submission. "How does your sweet pussy taste today, my little puppy?" you ask in a low, commanding voice.

Her breath hitches at your words, her eyes fluttering shut before she responds, "It tastes so good, Master, thank you, thank you. My pussy is always fresh and sweet for you."

You take a moment to taste her yourself and confirm her words—she's right. You continue. "You don't look satisfied. What is it that you really want?"

Her hand trembles as she reaches out to touch yours. "Please, sir," she begs in a hushed tone, "knock me up. I want your cum inside me so badly." Her cheeks flush with arousal as she continues, "I know I can be a naughty puppy sometimes, but my pussy is dripping wet and begging for every drop of your seed. I need to be bred by your big and thick cock... by my perfect Master's cock. It's unmatched and I couldn't even imagine wanting anyone else."

Yujin's grip on your hand tightens and her entire body quivers with anticipation, her eyes widening and mouth slightly agape as she takes deep breaths. She may look like a mess right now, but she's your mess and you love every inch of her in this moment.

Her breath catches in her throat as she confesses, her voice trembling with raw desire. "You're all I ever think about when I touch myself," she admits, the words pouring out of her in a torrent of pure desperation. "And I always pretend it's you who brings me pleasure, not my stupid toys when you're away at work." A deep blush spreads across her cheeks as she continues, "You own me, Master... and you own my pussy. Please cum inside me and make it yours forever."

Yujin falls silent after her confession, her face beet red. But she can't tear her gaze away from yours, as if seeking your approval and permission for her deepest desires.

"Yujin, puppy, are you sure? Once I breed you, I don't think I'll ever be able to stop breeding you." A wicked smile crosses your face as you continue, "I'm going to fuck you raw every single day and make sure to get you pregnant with my pups. It's going to be nonstop baby-making from now on. Do you understand?"

Yujin nods, her messy hair bouncing around as she lets out a small bark of excitement. Her big eyes are wide and pleading, begging for your touch.

You coo softly, a smile playing on your lips as you stroke Yujin's head with affection. You reach over the side of the bed and retrieve the familiar black leather collar, adorned with the word "Puppy." Yujin's eyes light up at the sight of her reward, and she sits patiently as you slip it around her neck, locking it in place.

"From now on, you're not just wearing the collar at home anymore," you explain. "But that doesn't matter right? You're my breedslut, so I might as well keep you leashed to the bed."

Yujin shivers at the idea, and you can feel your desire growing as your fingers brush against her skin. Gripping her hair firmly, you yank her head upward, making sure her gaze remains locked on yours.

"This means you belong to me at all times, Yujin," you growl. "You are mine, and no one else's. Do you understand?"

Release your grip, and Yujin sinks back down to her knees in front of your erection standing tall. You've never seen her so nervous about giving you head, but her determination is evident. She opens her pretty, plump lips to reveal the pink interior of her warm mouth, but all you feel is warm breaths.

Yujin moves closer to you, her body radiating heat and anticipation as she guides your throbbing cock toward her lips with a gentle hand at its base. She gives the head a teasing kiss before taking it into her mouth, eliciting a deep, primal moan from deep within your throat.

As she sucks you off, you can feel her soft, wet tongue swirling and spiraling around your shaft, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you. Every now and then, she comes up for air with a gasp, before eagerly diving back down to continue pleasuring you. Yujin is a true cocksucker, and she loves every second of it. Her eyes water as she deepthroats your cock with determination, refusing to stop even as it triggers her gag reflex.

"Such a good girl," you say, running your fingers through her hair as you thrust deeper into her throat. "You're my obedient little puppy, aren't you?"

Yujin's eyes roll back in ecstasy as she feels your cock filling her mouth and pushing against the back of her throat. With strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cockhead, she looks up at you with a mix of desire and submission.

"Yes, I'm your good puppy," she says in a raspy voice, still gagging on your cock, a few nervous giggles, a few woofs for good measure, even as tears run down her cheeks. "I'm your slutty little puppy girl, and I love your cock and I need your cock and I'm going to suck it forever." And she's back to work, sucking and licking and gagging on your dick as if this is the only thing that matters to her in life.

Yujin's technique is nothing short of impressive, utilizing all of her skills to bring you closer to the peak. Every move is calculated and precise, expertly designed to pleasure you in ways you've never experienced before. You firmly hold her head down, using her as your own personal fleshlight as you give rough thrusts into her warm, welcoming mouth. Yujin struggles for air but never pulls away, fully submitting to your desires. Her delicate hands reach up to massage your balls, adding an electrifying sensation to the already intense experience.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the brink, ready to explode down her throat at any moment. However, despite your animalistic instincts, every neuron firing within you is focused on breeding rather than covering her face and tongue with your seed. You know that it would be a waste to release such high-quality, potent cum anywhere other than inside her womb. Your rational brain understands this logic, even as your body screams for release.

Yujin will have plenty of time in her life to service you with her mouth; for now, her womb is more valuable in housing your powerful seed. Both your mind and body are in agreement on what they want - and right now, it's nowhere near Yujin's throat. As she continues to suckle on your throbbing member, you pull away from her grasp. Your hips ache with desire and a sense of incompleteness without Yujin's perfect mouth pleasuring you, yet the rush of power coursing through your body is almost intoxicating.

"Puppy, on the bed. Now."

Yujin scrambles to her feet, climbs onto the mattress. "What position, Master? Where do you want me?"

"On your back," you growl, pulling Yujin by her hair onto the bed so that her body is flat against the soft sheets. Her head falls onto the pillows behind her as she looks up at you with wide, waiting eyes."Good girl. Now lift your legs and spread them wide for me."

She immediately obeys, bending her knees and exposing her wet slit to you. You take her ankles and bring them behind her head, folding the girl in half so that you can truly mate-press her, pin her down with your body weight. Her pussy lips are engorged and puffy, and her clitoris protrudes from beneath the hood, throbbing with arousal. She opens her pretty labia wider with two fingers. The pink hole looks small enough that you would be unsure how you'd fit, even though you've fit in there plenty of times, more than you can count.

"L-look, at it, D-Daddy," Yujin stutters. "You're not just my Master, you're gonna be m-my Daddy, too."

With a low growl, you press your aching cock against Yujin's slick entrance. "You want it that bad? Beg for it."

Yujin whimpers and bucks her hips, trying to get more of you inside her. Yujin's voice fills with needy pleading. "Daddy, please, I'll do anything for you. Please, I need your cock more than anything."

"Anything?" you ask, your smirk widening.

Yujin nods eagerly, her hips bucking against yours. "Yes Master, anything! I'll do whatever you want. Just breed me like the slutty little puppy I am."

A wicked thought crosses your mind as you watch her squirm beneath you. "What if I tie you up like this and leave you here, completely at my mercy? You'll be spread open and exposed, unable to move until I decide to fill you."

Yujin gasps and moans at the idea, her body trembling with excitement. "Oh god, yes! Please do that! I'll be your fleshlight, whenever, always, please, just cum in me right now!"

An evil grin spreads across your face as you thrust into her harder, reveling in the power and control you have over her.

You slide your cock into her slowly, savoring every inch of her tightness. Her warmth envelopes you and it feels like heaven subverting God in its perfection.

Yujin's breath catches in her throat as she feels you finally sink deep inside of her, a long, primal moan escaping her lips. Her body trembles with pleasure and relief as she cries out, "Yes Daddy, I need to be bred!" With each thrust, she lifts her hips off the bed in search of more depth.

But you take control, refusing to let her dictate the pace. Your movements are strong and forceful, slamming into her again and again, igniting screams of ecstasy from her throat. "You're a breeding slut," you growl as you continue to drive into her slick heat. "My breeding slut. Mine." Her body quivers with each powerful thrust, unable to resist your dominance.

With a firm grasp on her ankles, you pull Yujin's legs down to either side of your body, opening her up completely for your pleasure. Her tight pussy squeezes around you with each thrust, driving you wild with desire. "When your breasts are swollen and full," you whisper in her ear, "I'll milk them like a cow and make you drink your own cream."

Her mouth falls open in bliss as she listens to your dirty talk. "Oh god yes!" she cries, her eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. "Master, please breed me! Milk me! N-need it, so, so bad, mmfh, fuck!"

With each forceful thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes throughout the room. Waves of pleasure course through both your bodies as you ravage her cunt without mercy. The sight of her spread open and vulnerable beneath you is almost overwhelming. To distract yourself from the intensity, you roughly slap and squeeze her breasts, relishing in the satisfying jiggles and leaving red marks in their wake. "Puppy loves being punished, doesn't she?" you taunt, reveling in her screams of pleasure mixed with pain.

As her moans crescendo and transform into frenzied screams, you instinctively cover her mouth, despite earlier boasts of being as loud as you both want. Seeing your girlfriend in such a state of ecstasy (eyes rolled back in pleasure or perhaps lack of oxygen) ignites your own desire. Determined to prolong this moment, you abruptly pull out and flip her over onto all fours. For a puppy like Yujin, what other position would be more fitting?

Without hesitation, you plunge back inside her from behind, causing her to cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The new angle allows for deeper penetration, her walls constricting around you in a tight embrace. With one hand gripping her hip and the other tangled in her hair, you claim her as yours by bending over and sinking your teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. Her skin turns from its usual pale hue to a rosy pink or fiery red as you mark her with rough fingers and sharp slaps to her ass. A mixture of sensations floods Yujin's body as she arches against you in submission.

Yujin meets your every movement with equal passion, pushing back against your length, as much as it may split her in half. Her arms give out and she collapses onto the bed as multiple waves of orgasm wash over her, until the metaphor spills out of her pussy in squirts. You have to pause for a moment and pull away from her tight heat to let her fully experience the intense pleasure engulfing her. Her thighs tremble and she struggles for breath, completely undone by your touch. And yet, this surrender to primal desires is nothing short of magic or art or beauty. She falls. Unwound, on her stomach, you give her as many moments as she needs. As she looks back at you through heavy-lidded eyes, a contented smile graces her lips.

It is necessarily true that humans have evolved a set number of genes that govern their physical form, and this number remains fairly consistent across different populations. However, there are exceptions: A 2015 analysis of DNA sequencing data found that the total number of human genes is not fixed, but varies depending on population, age, sex, diet, and other environmental factors. This finding is consistent with recent work that has demonstrated that the genetic code of a given cell is not static—instead, it changes slightly over time, as new mutations occur and older ones fade away. These mutations can affect the expression of certain proteins or alter the structure of certain RNA strands, thereby affecting how the gene is expressed and what function(s) the protein encoded by the gene fulfills. In short, our genomes evolve over time, and the process is not entirely random.

Humans have been around for thousands of generations, and yet they still exist today. Why do we believe that this pattern will continue for the foreseeable future when in reality, nothing is guaranteed? Evolutionary biologists have proposed a number of hypotheses regarding this question, including that humans are uniquely adaptable to environmental challenges and thus able to survive longer than many other species, and that our brains allow us to create tools that protect us from predators and disease. However, it is possible that these explanations are simply wrong. Perhaps humans were always meant to live forever. Maybe evolution made it so that we never grow old and die, and that death itself was merely an illusion created by our minds to keep us focused on surviving rather than procreating. Or maybe we will simply cease to exist someday. As long as chance determines our fate, we may never know for certain. But what remains clear is that relying on natural selection or external forces is not enough—we must actively make decisions in accordance with our individual interests.

This is not just abstract philosophy. This is the mindset you adopt as you forcefully drive your raw cock into Yujin's dripping-wet pussy, her body responding eagerly to your every thrust. With her submissive form lying beneath you, legs wrapped tightly around your waist, you have complete control over the pace and depth of your lovemaking. And as much as you enjoy taking her from behind, this is the best way to ensure the creampie takes. It's in your best interests. For the future's best interest.

We do not dwell on hunger pangs or fatigue, nor do we dwell on the satisfaction of satiation; we do not dwell upon the emptiness we feel after a good orgasm, because we assume that it was merely a temporary state, one which we must return from eventually. This mindset is what allows humans to achieve great feats, but also holds us back from reaching our full potential. When we fail, we often place blame on ourselves and our own perceived inadequacies, rather than acknowledging external factors. And when we succeed, we often underestimate our own abilities and attribute it to mere luck. This is the complex nature of human existence—the ability to push past pain and discomfort, to push ourselves beyond our limits without fear of consequences. It is a gift bestowed upon us by our biology and has enabled countless achievements that would otherwise be deemed impossible.

As you enter Yujin's tight and hot pussy, it feels as though it was custom-made for your cock. The fact that such a small and delicate thing can fit perfectly around you is a gift in itself. And despite having been with many women before, none have been as willing or enthusiastic as Yujin. Her moans fill the room with each thrust, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls. You no longer care about being discreet. Let them hear. This is your bond, the mother-to-be of your children, irrevocably yours.

Yujin's voice, strained and desperate, begs for you to breed her. Her arousal is evident in the way she teeters on the edge of climax so soon after her last. But you know all the ways to push her over the brink, and this is your favorite. Slowly, deliberately, you draw out each pump of your hips, driving her insane with anticipation. With one hand, you reach between her legs and toy with her clit, rubbing circles over the swollen bud and teasing it relentlessly. Your other hand wraps around her smooth neck, squeezing just enough to restrict her breathing as you pound into her desperately. She whimpers and whines, struggling for air, her wide eyes staring up at you in shock.

"I'm going to knock you up, puppy," you growl into Yujin's ear. Her body trembles with ecstasy as your cock thrusts deep within her, giving no mercy as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure racks through her, legs kicking wildly.

Humans are social creatures, defined by communication, which most commonly takes the form of exchange: exchange of ideas between individuals—we invented language for it—exchange of goods or resources, even exchange of genetic information through intercourse. This is the fundamental mechanism by which our species has survived and thrived for thousands of generations. Of course, exchange itself begets more exchange. For instance, offering food to someone may result in them giving you food back the next day, while giving advice can earn you gratitude and offers of assistance. In sexual relationships, this reciprocity can take the form of mutual pleasure and sharing intimacy. However, at times, the balance of power can become unequal and one-sided. You tighten your grip around Yujin's neck, cutting off her air supply as she gasps and wheezes beneath you with wild eyes. At that moment, you have complete control over her and plenty of DNA to put inside her. Less girlfriend, more of a mere receptacle, Yujin lays limp in your arms. You feel closer to her than ever before while you build towards your own release.

Releasing your hold on her neck, she takes in deep breaths—her chest heaving with each labored inhale. Yet even these breaths are taken from her as you steal them back with kisses before finally consummating the act. Through it all, Yujin smiles against your lips—the roughness and love intertwining in a beautiful dichotomy that continues to prove false in practice. No need for words as she tells you how much she loves you, how much you love her. It is an unspoken bond between lovers, solidified in moments like these.

As you feel yourself reaching the edge of climax, your body tenses with anticipation. The sweet ache in your loins intensifies as you know that Yujin's womb is aching to be filled with your potent seed, yearning for your offering, your gift to her. The scent of arousal fills the air, mingling with the sound of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. You are on the brink of eruption when suddenly, without warning, you feel her body spasm violently beneath you—exchange begets exchange—and her walls clench as though she's out for every last drop of your load. And if she's not out for that, at least she's out—there is not a thought left on Yujin's face, eyes crossed, her lips curled into a blissfully stupid grin as the euphoria of her climax consumes her completely, washing away all rationality and replacing it with pure ecstasy. Try as you may to hold back, there's no stopping the freight train. Your own mind burns with the image of her face, knowing that this is the moment your child will be conceived. With one final thrust, you surrender completely to the waves of pleasure crashing through you both.

Yujin's body continues to ride out the aftershocks, her walls clenching tightly around you as you fill her with your hot load. Your seed coats her insides, painting them with thick jets of sticky white liquid. She milks every last drop from your shaft as you convulse violently, lost in the throes of pure bliss. All other thoughts fade away as her pussy becomes your entire world, drowning out everything else.

In this moment, you imagine a future where Yujin remains your devoted pet forever. The thought fills your heart with joy and you know it will soon become reality. You will breed her until she is heavy with pups, and then do it again and again until… there is no until. This is your destiny, and nothing could make you happier.

As Yujin whimpers and nuzzles against you in post-orgasmic bliss, you cradle her close, stroking her hair and whispering soft words of comfort into her ear. "You're going to be such a good mommy," you groan, a swell of pride washing over you like the sunrise. And in this moment, you imagine a future where you could stay inside Yujin forever.

Before she relaxes, Yujin gestures towards the nightstand drawer and you rummage through it until you find a small dildo. She takes it from you and pushes it into her still-quivering pussy alongside your softening cock. It's a tight and intense sensation, but one that you enjoy knowing that you are still locked inside her. You smile down at Yujin lovingly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Good thinking," you murmur, "we need to keep your pussy plugged tight so my seed can take hold."

This detail may not have been mentioned in any books about conception, but you find yourself laughing and going along with it anyway. As your mind wanders to how important this is for Yujin (and how turned on she must be), you consider taking advantage of her other free hole despite your body tingling from the most intense climax of your life. But you decide to save that for another time.

As your shared exertions begin to subside, your bodies relax against each other. Yujin's breathing slows as she drifts off into exhaustion. You finally pull out, but keep the toy in place to ensure none of your precious semen escapes. Finding a pair of panties nearby, you use them to secure the toy before covering Yujin with the blankets. You slip beneath the covers as well, pulling her close and holding her protectively until she falls asleep.

"I love you so much," you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on Yujin's temple before drifting off beside her, basking in the warm glow of the morning light. In this moment, you feel fulfilled and content in ways that words cannot express. You've never been happier or felt more alive. And wrapped in the arms of your perfect puppy girlfriend, soon to be your wife and the mother of your child, you know that this is where you belong, with many more days like this yet to come.

With that comforting thought in mind, sleep claims you both.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

As consciousness slowly seeps into your mind, you are greeted by the sound of slurping and wet warmth between your legs. Your eyes flutter open to see Yujin kneeling beside the bed, her lips wrapped around your cock. In her hand is the smaller dildo from earlier in the morning; on the floor underneath her is a larger silicone dildo with a suction base, which she's slowly bouncing on. The scent of sex fills the room, accompanied by the soft moans coming from Yujin's lips, received in vibrations by your member.

She sucks back and forth between the smaller dildo in her hand and your cock, as if cleaning both with fervent desire. Her taste buds must be bombarded with the flavors of dried cum and her own nectar, yet she continues to suck on both like candy. Despite having barely been asleep for two hours, your girlfriend seems to possess boundless energy.

"What are you doing?" you murmur groggily, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Glancing at the clock, you realize it's not even noon yet. You must have only drifted off a couple of hours ago—but it seems like Yujin was too aroused to let you get any decent rest. The consequences of keeping her on edge for so long.

Setting aside the smaller dildo, Yujin pulls her lips away from your member momentarily, a strand of saliva connecting her mouth to your glistening cockhead. Her eyes sparkle mischievously as she says in a bratty tone, "Master, you promised me that you were going to breed me!"

A smirk crosses your face as you reply, "I did."

"Nuh-uh," she retorts. "I won't believe it until I feel your baby growing inside my belly." A devilish grin spreads across her face. "So until then, I'm not letting go of your cock!" With a playful giggle, she resumes pleasuring you orally while riding the dildo at the same pace. As her mouth goes down on your cock, she takes the toy deeper into herself.

You can't help but agree with her logic—even with all day and all weekend, breaks for basic needs like eating and using the bathroom are inevitable. Might as well start now. Plus, Yujin looks so damn cute with her mouth full of your meat. It makes you want to cum in her throat just for being so adorable.

Your hand reaches down to stroke her hair, gently guiding her movements. "That feels good, Yujin. But just so you know, I plan on cumming in your pussy again, not your stomach."

She nods with your shaft still between her lips, murmuring, "Yes, Daddy," before returning to fervently sucking and stroking your length.

A content smile spreads across your face as you lean back against the pillows. Watching Yujin pleasure herself on your cock reminds you that this is exactly how things are meant to be between the two of you: Her worshiping your cock with her skilled mouth; you reveling in the sight and sensation. There is, of course, one more hole you'd like to fill while you're still in bed, but it can wait till after breakfast. For now, you're happy to let your girlfriend suck away.

The blowjob feels incredible—her mouth is so soft and hot that you can hardly stand it. Your fingers thread through her hair as you encourage her to bob down further and further onto your length each time. Even with the intensity of your last orgasm, you're renewed by the sheer force of her devotion, ever a smile curling up at the corner of your lips as her eyes water with the effort of taking more of you into her throat. Yujin gags, her body convulsing as the tip of your shaft hits the back of her throat, but she refuses to stop, determined to swallow your entire length into her mouth and beyond—she loves it, craves it, needs it.

In a way, oral sex is evolutionary cheating: A female's reproductive tract is optimized for conception, which requires a relatively high amount of energy to maintain, but oral stimulation doesn't result in pregnancy; it's a waste of energy. Thus, it makes little sense biologically for females to enjoy giving oral sex, but at least in the example on her knees, they love it more than the world. You watch in awe as she sucks you off, her eyes closed in concentration as she focuses all her attention on pleasuring your manhood. She moans softly, her tongue caressing the underside of your shaft while she continues to suckle, licking every inch of you. Her technique is flawless, and she knows it—she knows that every movement, every flick of her tongue sends shivers of pleasure up your spine, and she relishes the fact that you can barely contain yourself from cumming right in her mouth. She wants it badly, too—you can tell by the way she keeps looking up at you with those wide puppy eyes, pleading silently as if to say "please cum in my mouth, Daddy, I want to taste it, to eat it. We can keep breeding later, but I need this right now."

You can tell that she's not going to let up until you finish in her mouth, so there's no point in trying to hold on. You let yourself fall over the precipice, and you groan loudly, your hips jerking forward involuntarily as you erupt, shooting hot jets of your semen straight down into her stomach, as her own orgasm hits her hard—she's already so turned on that the feeling of your seed splattering into her stomach sets off her own climax immediately after yours, and her body shakes and trembles.

You pull out from her mouth with a wet pop, your cock slick with saliva as it slips free—it's hard again already. Yujin is panting heavily, her body flushed pink from arousal and exertion. Her eyes are wide and bright, and they're locked onto you, watching every little motion you make as if afraid to miss a single thing.

"Yujin. We're getting lunch. Then we're fucking in the kitchen." She beams and jumps up, excited to follow your orders. You smile to yourself; she's such a silly girl sometimes. But you wouldn't trade her for anything in the world.

You get out of the bed. "Come on, pup."

Yujin follows after you eagerly, imagine a wagging tail behind her, and you both head downstairs to the kitchen.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

This final ending section is incomplete and reasonably should just be cut or completed, but it's what you're getting.

[halfwayhearted]

Real Love — Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: It takes an accident for him to realize just how deep your feelings for him are.

Word Count: 1.1K+

Disclaimer/s — Gunshot mention, slight violence, a little angst (?), OOC Spencer perhaps, and no use of Y/N! I think that’s it.

A/N: Clearing out the drafts, requests always welcomed… hey… Also I noticed I made the reader ask a lot of questions and then continue asking after he said he was fine, so… :3

Searching the entire bottom floor of the building, you feel the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand the longer you continue to look. Like they’re about to just up and vanish off of you. This place was quiet, too quiet, eerily quiet.

…

You get the point.

You, Reid, and Morgan were the first to walk in along with a couple SWAT officers, but when you had gotten nothing on the device used to communicate with them, you made your way up the stairs, that’s where they were. Where they were supposed to be. But, were they?

Hotch’s instructions were clear: ‘Move in, keep silent, stay vigilant.’ His anxiety was palpable to anyone within a five-mile radius. This UnSub operated with extreme precision, to an extraordinary degree. The Ohio PD had almost caught and locked him away previously; had they only been aware of his premeditated escape strategy and his precise timing for executing it.

Being careful as to not make a single sound with each step you take, you raised your gun and walked forward. God, the hallway was long. So long. The amount of horror movie vibes you got was enough to make your skin crawl.

Reaching the corner, you’re just about to round it when a gunshot sounds throughout the building. The echo making your ears ring. Morgan. Reid.

Focused solely on them and them only, you hasten ahead, oblivious to the looming shadow. Suddenly, rough hands shove you against the wall, causing your head to snap back and meet the brick surface. As you gather yourself, you witness the figure sprinting down the corridor, pursued closely by Morgan and the SWAT team.

No Reid, no Reid, no Reid, you repeated in your mind as you shook your head to dispel the dizziness, to no avail of course, yet it didn't prevent you from trying to reach him. As your vision gradually returned, you spotted Reid on the floor, propped uncomfortably close to the wall.

No, no, no.

“Spencer!” You cried out, dropping to your knees next to him. Your eyes scanning over his body for any signs of blood, leaning over him, you continue to search for anything. Nothing. Search harder!

That’s when your gaze lands on the bullet lodged into his vest, with a sharp inhale, you carefully unclasp the Kevlar vest and throw it aside. Check his pulse, what are you doing? You needed to calm down, you know you did. But this was Spencer. The man you’d—now, hold on a minute.

Focus.

Placing two fingers to his neck, you just about cheered at the sound of his heartbeat. It was racing, but it was there.

“Agent down, medical assistance possibly required.” You say shakily into the device strapped to the collar of your own vest, breathless.

“Reid,” your voice is quiet as you move your other hand to pat his cheek, “Spencer.”

Hearing his groan sounded like a melodic tune to your ears, you leaned forward and rested your head slightly on his stomach before looking up at him, you knew he was fine, but it didn’t stop the complete and utter relief you felt at hearing anything but the mans silence.

You rested a hand on his arm, “Hey, hey, easy. Are you in pain? Hurting? Talk to me.”

“UnSub is down and apprehended,” Rossi’s voice rings through your ears, and no doubt Spencer’s when you see him flinch, “Medicals almost here.”

“Fine,” he croaks out, “I’m fine.”

Nodding your head, not sure if he was trying to convince you or himself, you slowly helped him lean forward. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

“I’m not… I’m not hurt.”

That wasn’t really my question, was what you wanted to say, but decided it was… best not to mention it. “Can you stand? Do you want to stand?” You ask, looking at him with a gaze so soft he wanted nothing more than to just sit there and stare. “Reid—come on, grab my hand.”

Holding out your hand, he hesitantly grabbed ahold of it and hoisted himself up. Letting out a groan as he leaned against a random desk.

“Are you okay?” The second time you’ve asked.

“Stop,” he rasped, “I’m okay. I promise.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, your eyes scanning over his figure once more. “You were shot, Spencer,” you paused, then added, “Let’s get you downstairs, yeah?”

With a nod, he moved toward the door and stumbled. That there was enough to tell you that calling for medical was the right decision. You quickly stood beside him, took his hand, and used it to drape his arm over your shoulder.

After reaching the last stair, Hotch looked up at the two of you, “The ambulance is out front. What happened? Are you okay?”

“He was shot—it hit the vest,” you answered.

Just then, Emily and Morgan walked in, their expressions etched with worry as they helped you both the rest of the way. Emily’s eyes soon widened in alarm when she noticed something, “Hey, are you okay? Your head—” It’s bleeding.

Your head? Oh, your head. You’d almost forgotten the searing pain from being literally shoved against a brick wall.

The paramedics guide Reid to sit on the back of the ambulance, they start performing all the necessary checks, fearing the bullet might have caused unseen damage despite hitting the vest.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but trip over your own feet before even attempting to respond to Emily’s question. This prompted the other paramedic to look at you with concern, “Ma'am, are you alright?”

Looking over at him, you stammered, “I, uh, I hit my head.”

That made Spencer snap his gaze toward you, eyes wide with panic and confusion. You had hit your head, probably got a concussion, and yet you were still there, helping him. Why?

Hearing that made her partner rush to your side, directing you to a seat with a sense of urgency as he quickly checked your condition.

He furrowed his brows deeply, casting a glance over at Morgan, who was casually leaning against the ambulance. Morgan’s eyes roamed over his features while he tilted his head slightly and said with a gentle yet probing tone, “Spill it, kid.”

“She has a concussion,” he murmured, “And she was helping me.” Again, why?

The man let out a sigh, saying, “You might be a genius, but sometimes you can be anything but.” With those words lingering in the air, he strolled over to where you were sitting, ruffling your hair and laughing when you swatted at his hands.

You might be a genius, but sometimes you can be anything but.

What did that even mean?

Well, he knew what it meant. The real question was what steps could he take to act on it. Because if there was one thing he was certain of…

It was that he felt the same way.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

32 / 1.4k / soap soulmate au, part 9

...

Soap goes still and quiet, his grip loosening. "People?"

"Human trafficking."

"How do you know?"

"Because security is quadrupled in the basement lounge. The client and his inner circle are scheduled to move downstairs after midnight. They're calling it an afterparty."

"You're sure it's not drugs?"

"I'm sure. I saw the dossier given to security downstairs."

Soap's mouth twists. The target sure as hell isn't leaving this place alive if he can help it. “Could’ve mentioned that earlier."

“I tried. Who do you think tipped Laswell off?"

That gives Soap pause. "Laswell? You’ve been in touch with her?"

"Once." You curl your fingers tighter into his vest and grab his chin to make him look at you. "Johnny, listen. If you kill him now, everything locks down. You won't be able to get into the basement. You need to get down there quietly with the element of surprise."

"What have you got in mind? Covert extraction, no prep, no briefing?" He raises one hand as if to cover yours, to trace along your knuckles. After so long, he can’t help it. He just wants to touch you. "That's a lot to ask. What was your plan if we didn’t show? Go it alone?"

"Figure it out as I go along, I guess."

"Christ, you're a headache." Soap's hand tightens around yours, gently pulling it off his collar to bring your hand up to his cheek. He turns up your palm and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You're on his side this time. He can't put into words how light it makes him feel. 

He makes a low sound in his throat before he pulls back again. He clicks on his radio. "Captain, LT, you'll want to hear this."

While Soap explains the situation on his team's comms, you put yourself back together, checking your rifle and your gear. He watches you the whole time. You’re not what he remembers—not the cornered animal he met in that interrogation room before. You're in your element. If he could, he’d drag you away, take you back to some safehouse somewhere, and focus on getting to know you in every way and every position he knows. Patience, he tells himself. After this mission, he'll have all the time in the world. 

After the brief conference--and Laswell confirming she’d received an anonymous, cryptic tip about stolen goods in the target’s favorite Swiss Alps resort--he turns back to you. "Price wants the target no matter what. We're pullin' back to regroup and plan our strategy."

Your stomach drops. "What? There's no time."

"You said it yourself: we have no intel, no time to prep, and no good way in. Civilians everywhere. If it goes tits up, people die." He grabs your hand and pulls you into the hall, heading for the stairwell. "We're fallin’ back and regrouping while we still can."

You jerk your hand out of his, stumbling back. "We have intel. I was briefed on this mission. I can get downstairs,” you argue.

You mean alone. Soap doesn't like that. "Not happening,” he snaps, his voice rough with frustration. He glares down at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth. “I know you can more than handle yourself, but not against a hundred of these bastards."

"Those bastards are my coworkers," you retort. "They won't look twice at me."

That's the worst part. Your familiarity with this place makes you an undeniable asset for this mission—that’s why he sought you out. The reason that’ll be in the official report, anyway. Damn it. He's torn between the knowledge that he should be happy you’re willing to help his team out and his desire to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of the building.

"You said yourself security's quadrupled down there. If it goes loud, you're done. I'm not lettin’ you play hero. No. Ain't happenin'."

“Then we find a different plan,” you argue. You've never met someone so hard-headed.

"She might have a point," Gaz's voice says in Soap’s earpiece. "If we find a way to bring security up to the ground floor instead, you and Ghost can get down there and find the hostages. Security's already jumpy with the power out--give them a reason to come upstairs and they will. It’s just a matter of finding a distraction. And we've got snipers posted. Distractions are easy."

Hearing Gaz, you nod. “I'll take the target and lead him into view for your snipers.”

Soap curses under his breath, running a hand over his mohawk. He wishes he’d turned his radio off. He doesn't like putting you at risk.

You huff and sling your rifle over your back. Time is slipping away. "I need to find the target. I'll wait for your signal and--"

Soap grabs your arm before you can walk past him. "Jesus, stop. Give me a minute to think."

"We don't have--"

"Time, I ken." Soap's grip tightens. He tugs you against him again, one hand going to the back of your neck to hold you in place. "You're not goin'. Not without me."

"That's ridiculous!" Your voice climbs despite the way he forces you closer--folds his arm around your lower back and pulls you chest-to-chest. "They’ll see you. And they’re not just going to arrest you, okay—they’ll kill you."

Soap’s expression tightens. "How do I know you won't abscond with the target? Wouldn’t be the first time you left us high and dry."

You close your mouth and stare at him. He’s worried you’ll betray him. Your gaze falls to his chest, silent, because it wouldn't be the first time.

At the look on your face, Soap’s chest feels like it’s caving in. But he keeps going before he loses his nerve. He doesn't care if it's selfish. "You disappeared. No word. No message. Not even a thank you. I'm not lettin' that happen a second time. One wrong move and I'm pullin' you out."

He lets go of you, unhooks the collar radio from around his neck, and puts it around yours instead. "Tell my team when and where you have the target in place. They'll take care of the rest."

You put the earpiece in place and adjust the bit around your neck. "Fine."

He stands still, arms crossed, as you adjust your gear one more time. Your nerves are shot.

You glance at him, an apology stuck in your throat. "I was going to contact you, I just..."

"Just what? Had more important things going on? Assholes to protect?" he snaps. He stalks closer, towering over you again. The frustration flashing through his eyes eclipses the sudden, haunted look of a man who hasn't slept well in weeks.

You press your hand to the armor on his chest and lower your voice. "I get it if you don't trust me. Just... trust that I want your target dead as much as you do."

"Promise me you won't disappear on me again."

You bite the inside of your lip and put your hand on his cheek. Something in your chest twinges when he leans into it. "I promise," you lie.

"Good." He closes his eyes and lowers his forehead to yours. He breathes deeply, committing your touch to memory.

Then he opens his eyes and angles your jaw up toward his, his mouth slanting over yours in a hard, possessive kiss that empties your brain completely. When he pulls away, his eyes glimmer.

"You’d better stand by that promise, darlin’,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “I let you go in Las Almas because you didn’t want my protection yet. Could’ve taken you with me whether you liked it or not, but I couldn’t stand the thought of you hatin’ me. Even if it meant keepin’ you safe.” The cool leather on his knuckles brushes tenderly against your neck. "But those reservations aren’t holdin’ me back anymore. I will do what needs to be done if you play games with me. You understand?"

You stare at him, heart thumping strangely. "I don't think that's... necessary."

“I hope it’s not.” He cups your jaw in his hands and brings your lips to his again. The kiss this time is gentler, softer—just a slow, intimate press that melts you completely. You’re breathless by the time he lifts his head. "When this is over, you're mine."

You nod weakly, not trusting yourself to speak.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / [part 9] / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[gojonanami]

BLOODSUCKER - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp? ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, blood kink, gojo has fangs, biting, marking, bloodsucking, fingering (f!receiving), swearing, semi-public sex, sex against a car, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, baby), ✴︎ wc: 2,704

“Can I have a bite?” He whispers, lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending a warm flush down your body — and why did he smell so intoxicating? 

The night had gone on normally enough — yet another Halloween party you had been dragged to (after you had lost a bet and ended up being the designated driver for the evening) in another coordinated themed costume — this time for the Barbie movie. Yet another throng of costumed drunks and weirdos you had to wade through while your friends had their fun. And you thought the night would be boring. 

Oh, you were so wrong. 

He saw you first. You were only sure of that, after, because you remembered the prickling of your skin when his ice blue irises had found you lounging in the loft area upstairs — where most people had begun to clear out of after the keg had arrived downstairs. You had let your hair out of your wig, your head aching from the weight of the hair on your head and the cheap elastic band trying to work its way into your forehead. 

You unlocked your phone, looking at yourself in your camera, pouting at the state of your hair — unkempt and unruly from the wig, but you only could do what you could. 

“Great, now I can be a scary Barbie,” you murmur, locking your phone, as you pocket it. 

“Oh, you’re not scary,” and your head snaps up, eyes finding those pools of still blue that looked like you could drown in them — and you very well would. His lips were curled in a small smile, his skin looked pale in the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you be a little scary,” 

“Satoru,” your lips twist, fuck, you thought he’d never show up to this party — you had avoided him flawlessly since your breakup — if you could even call it that. You never official — you were never anything, just a situation that was more than a booty call, but less than a relationship. Every invitation was only accepted with assurance and recon that Satoru would not attend, every exit strategy was planned, and every move was carefully made. 

Except this one. 

“Oh, you recognize me?” he gasps in mock surprise, lips in that shit eating grin you had loved to kiss off of him, but now, all it did was make you want to slap him, “surprised you did after you’ve avoided me for so long, sweetheart,” 

“And apparently you’re the one with brain damage because we broke up — don’t call me that,” you sigh, eyes glancing down at his outfit — a black and white suit with a high collar, as his mouth moved as he spoke, you caught sight of fangs on his teeth, and his eyes glinted with a crimson tint dipped in an ocean of blue, “your costume is fitting — you definitely did suck the life out of our relationship,” 

“Bitter doesn’t suit you, baby,” your eye twitches, as he dares closer, eyes glinting in the low light of the kitchen, “plus y’know, you always did the best sucking,” 

Your traitorous cheeks flush, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes betray you by flickering downwards, “fuck off—“ 

“Oh, I know you want me to fuck something — don’t think it’s off though,” he looms closer, licking his lips, as he smiles — and your heart forgets to beat — did he always smell this good? He smelt of musk, wood, and everything warm and honeyed — the scent melted over you, plying your resistance with sweetness in contrast to his vulgarity, “look at you, haven’t even touched you and you’re so pliant, where’s that mouth now?” And his thumbs drag down your lips, pulling at the bottom one — “looks better wrapped around my cock, doesn’t it?” 

And his words snap you from your trance, slapping his hand away, “didn’t expect an apology from you, but I thought you’d do better than this shit,” 

“Can you blame me for missing you, pretty?” He pouts, “thought you loved me more than that,” 

“And I thought you loved me enough to commit but looks like we both are wrong,” you roll your eyes, “go find someone else to fuck with, Gojo,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Aw, baby, don’t act so unfamiliar, you had my dick in you after all, you can still call me Satoru,” and then there’s a cheer in the living room that cuts off your retort, as he turns to look. 

And that’s your cue to leave, you slip away from him, grabbing your jacket, making an Irish exit, slipping through the throng of people partying. You manage to get down the street, the streets quiet now, the sounds of the party growing more distant by the second. A sense of dread settled over you the more you walked, forming a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach. The streetlights flickered above you, the wind cutting through your jacket as you pulled it closer around you. Your car was close, right past this wooded backyard, trees lining what seemed to be an abandoned home. There was only a few more yards — and then you heard a twig snap — your head snapped around to look behind you. 

And that was your mistake. 

A hand clamped over your mouth, as you gasped against it, another tight around your middle, your scream was muffled against the palm. And then a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Boo,” before he lets you go, and you whirl around, smacking Satoru against his chest, hard. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your heart was pumping, hard, nearly banging against your ribs, body still shaking with adrenaline, “what the fuck - that’s not fucking funny,” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny — it was supposed to be spooky,” he grins, unaffected by your anger, as your fingers clench into fists, “you didn’t give me a treat so I had to play a trick. It’s the rules of Halloween, pretty,” 

“It wasn’t spooky, it was fucking scary—“ you move to hit him again, and he catches your hand by the wrist, and he’s pulling you close, “let me go, Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, his fingers caressing your cheek, and you feel your knees knocking together, the world shifting beneath your feet, “I’m sorry for frightening you, sweetheart,” and he’s helping you walk over to your car, “just wanted to make sure you get to your car safely,” 

Why were you letting him help you? Why was your body leaning against his? Why were you letting his arm slink around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip? But those same questions sunk away into the inky abyss of your mind, as thoughts blurred over each other, and all you can think about was him.  

“Satoru,” you murmur, as you stumble against him, and he catches you by your waist, steadying you, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” your head rests against his chest, but you felt so comfortable, so…content. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got you,” he purred, his words only intoxicated you further, drizzled like melted molasses down your throat, “that spook I gave you earlier really took it out of you, but,” his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours — and they glowed, a shiny blue that unnerved you, “should I show you something really scary?” 

“Satoru, what—“ and he’s kissing you, lips sliding against yours — he tastes familiar, hint of candy corn that he was always a fiend for, but he tastes even sweeter than that, headier too — before he parts, “what are you doing?” 

“Showing you just how much I missed you,” he hums, thumb gliding over the length of your cheek, “y’know how hard it was for me without you? Wouldn’t be able to sleep. I could only think about how I had screwed thing up. Would take these long walks at night when I couldn’t sleep,” and his fingers trace down your jawline, before reaching your neck, his thumb resting against your pulse, “turns out those walks were good for one thing,” 

“And what’s that?” You murmur, still utterly distracted by his touch. 

And he brushes his lips against your neck, teeth grazing against your pulse, “Finding a way to keep you — forever,” and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, as his arms press your body to his, your hands sliding up his chest, caged in by his form, “can I have a bite?” he whispers, lips against your ear now, sending a flush across your cheeks, “just wanna mark you again, like i used to, make you mine,” 

For a moment, the curtain snaps back, mask slipping, as your eyes flutter open without the rosy glasses he had slipped over your eyes, “I’m not yours,” and you only see him — the true him — for a moment. 

His muscles tighten, fingers digging into your sides harshly, gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise, his gaze is dark, navy instead of the usual cerulean with a ring of red that pierces through your skin, but his teeth — his teeth scare you the most — his fangs aren’t fake, his tongue sliding against them both, as he flashed an unnerving smile at you that sends your blood running cold.  

But not colder than his. 

“Satoru — what—“ and his lips find yours again, sending a headiness throughout your body, from your head to the tips of your toes, “I-“ 

“Just let me have this, just this one night,” he murmurs, words as smooth as glass and as needy as need itself, “please,” 

And you’re the one pulling him to you, back against the cool metal of your car, and your fingers cup his face, pulling him against your lips. He tastes like want, his tongue parts your lips, as his fingers slide up your dress, sending goosebumps up your thighs, “Fuck, all it takes for you, huh?” He murmurs, and his fangs nibble at your bottom lip making you gasp, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, until he reaches your neck. 

“Been thinking about this for far too long, sweetheart,” 

two fingers drag down your neck first, as he tilts your head for easy access, and you shiver at his touch — was he colder than before? “I’m going to be doing a lot more than marking you like I did before,” his lips press a delicate kiss to your neck, “need to taste it,” 

And his fangs drag over your soft flesh, before he finally bites you. Your mouth hangs open in a sharp gasp as his fangs pierce your skin, and your head lolls back, as pleasure floods your body. You feel your warm blood dripping from your neck, slipping down your skin, as he sucks from you. 

He pulls away for a moment to look at you, your scarlet blood dripping from his mouth, painting his pale pink lips burgundy, as his tongue darts out to catch the blood slipping down your chin. 

“You taste like everything to me,” he murmurs, pressing his nose against the nape of your neck, “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, aren’t you?” 

You whimper, “Satoru, feels so good,” and he’s kissing you again, letting you taste your own blood on his lips, it only makes you want him even more. But this isn’t right, something wasn’t right—

“Just give in, sweetheart,” he’s dragging your hands down your sides, squeezing your hips, as his palms rest under your thighs, “let me make you feel good,” 

And he lifts you, guiding your legs to wrap around your waist, as his large palm slides up your thigh, hiking your dress up. He grins, looking at your soaked panties, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp and squirm, “wonder if you taste even sweeter down here, baby?” 

You whine louder, as his fingers slide into the waistband of your underwear and snaps it against your skin, “Your blood is pumping harder than ever, bet it tastes even better like that — full of your fear, full of your pleasure,” his fingers are sliding your drenched panties down, “fuck, you’re a little freak, bet you got wet when I grabbed you, can’t all be from the last few minutes,” 

And his lithe finger sinking into you, as your lips part in a gasp as he bullies your walls, “So tight for me,” he groans, as his finger curls against you, making you moan, and his teeth graze against your neck, before sinking in. You both moan in tandem, as he drinks more of your blood, as a second finger parts into your folds, your release dripping down his palm. He’s stretching you out — fingers pistoning in and out, Pleasure courses up and down your body, toes curling, as all you can hear is the sucking of his fangs and the squelch of his fingers in your cunt. 

And then he hits that spot, and you’re cumming, slick dripping down your thighs as you moan, as your hips move against his fingers, riding out your orgasm. He pulls your fangs from your neck, letting your blood drip down your neck. 

He tilts your head back, letting him look at your fluttering eyelashes and fucked out expression, lips parted, as your blood paints your skin a beautiful maroon. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart,” he’s pulling his fingers from you, as you gasp from the emptiness. He places them in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, “think I may get addicted baby, gotta have more of you — doesn’t matter if it’s your blood or your cum,” 

And you hear the clink of your belt buckle and sound of his zipper, as he frees his cock, rubbing against your dripping pussy, “Gonna let your ex fuck you against your car? Gotta have you baby, but if I take you now, I don’t know if I’ll ever let you go,” he’s teasing the head of his cock against your pussy lips, “do you still want me to do it?”

You whine, back arching against the hard surface of the car, “please, I need you,” your fingers wrap around his neck, his lips against yours, “Satoru—“ 

And he’s sinking his cock into you, as he’s lifting your legs to your ears, ankles by his ears as his hips flush against your ass, “Fuck, can you feel me kissing the deepest part of you?” His hips roll into you now, slowly at first, again and again, as your walls throb around him, the car groans and your ankles ache against his slow thrusts, “best cunt I’ve ever had, and all fucking mine now,” 

“Toru, please, more—“ 

And he barks a laugh, sweat slipping down your forehead, his balls slapping against your ass, “so needy f’me, you’re mine aren’t you? Say you’re mine,” he’s grunting as your walls flutter around him, and he knows you’re close—

Your orgasm washes over you, toes curling, and he leans forward, fangs sinking into you, as he fucks you through it. The blood he drinks makes your head dizzy with pleasure, until he pulls away, letting your blood drip from his lips. And he’s grunting, hips stuttering as he bottoms out — making you gasp and whine again. Until he’s cumming inside you, painting your walls white, emptying his load into you. He’s fucking his cum inside your cunt.

And he’s easing your legs down as the two of you come down, his face buried in the nape of your neck, licking at the blood dripping from his bites — your neck beginning to ache and sting now. 

“So pretty, so perfect,” he coos, his lips curling still red from your blood, as he’s curling his arms around your waist, “gotta take you home so I can taste you all over again.” 

“No, I can’t. This was a one time thing—“ 

And he’s tilting your chin up, eyes flashing dangerously, as his lips curl, “I told you, I’m not going to let you go, besides,” he turns your head towards your rear view mirror, your eyes beginning to glint red, “I have to let you have a bite of me later,” and you can feel your blood run cold, “it’s only fair, isn’t it, sweetheart?” 

✴︎ a/n: was possessed to write this by the halloween spirits -- also i have a thing for bloodsucking now unfortunately. have a spooky season :)

✴︎ tag list: @d1rtv, @crazynocturnalkiki, @ichikanu, @dazailover1900, @sinnerstardoll, @bisexualpanicwentoutforasmoke, @dumbabie, @aureatekintsugi, @mooly-artistic, @happymangospot, @hiimarandin, @bunsunee, @5-xiaoo,