#Garter Strength

[salamifuposey]

anyways, nothing too interesting, just a scrappy traditional Garter I decided to whip and have dirty fun with, the red just being a very cheap red random crayon

[kkuzushi]

Aaaaaaa thinking about fking scara in the Public restroom after a photo shoot And scara scolding us because we still have alot more photo shooting to do.... AAAAAAAAGHHH you can skip this if you're not comfortable, but if you do plan on taking this, THANK YOU I LOVE YOU SO MU—

“ 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 ”

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!scaramouche x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: bratty & model scara, handjob, frotting, fingering (giving), agoraphilia, public sex, either cock or strap !

✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.501k

✦ 𝗻otes: I enjoyed this a bit too much that this became my longest work.. Also, hoyofair Scaramouche reference! Enjoy, dearest anon, I love you as well. <3

After working since 6:30 in the morning for back-to-back photoshoots, Scaramouche finally gets an hour of rest. It wasn't nearly enough, but that's the life of a model. In his private room, a few snacks were laid out on his desk as he scrolled through social media, where all he saw was his own face and fans praising him—not that he minded.

But that brief moment of peace quickly disappeared when he found himself in the company’s public restroom, with you—his impatient lover.

"Cut it out, you idiot!" Scaramouche whispered sharply, pulling away from you, though the resistance was half-hearted at best. He was enjoying it too, though he'd never openly admit it. "I still have more photoshoots to do..!"

Scaramouche tried to keep his voice steady, his hands pressing lightly against your chest as you leaned in closer, teasing him further. "I don’t have time for this,” he hissed, though his body betrayed him as he didn’t make much of an effort to stop you. His face flushed slightly, betraying his cool demeanor as you smirked in response.

You pulled him closer by the waist, one hand going down to tug his thigh garter. “You still have an hour, don't you?” You pouted, kissing the side of his face and trailing down to his neck.

“Yeah, an hour of break. Not for this nonsense!” Scaramouche hissed, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to keep his composure.

As you pepper his neck with kisses, you can feel him gulping and hitching, desperately trying to suppress any noise that might come out. His hands travel up to your shoulders, pushing you away though not with his full strength.

“This is a break. Just let me take care of you.” You whisper as you ruffle with the buttons of his cropped jacket, which soon falls to the ground, revealing his highneck undershirt along with the fishnets that surround his collarbones.

“My jacket–” Scaramouche’s eye twitched as he snatched it from the floor and threw it over the door hook. “Could you at least try not to mess up my clothes?” he huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at you.

That glare of his, you could never hate it, and especially when you knew you were the reason for it. “Sorry, sweetheart,” You apologized halfheartedly before pushing his back on the bathroom door, reaching in for a passionate kiss.

His protests are soon muffled, and everytime he'd open his lips, you'd just take the opportunity and invade his mouth with your tongue.

As you pull away, you're met with a flick of Scaramouche's tongue. “You're smudging my lipstick,” He complained, wiping the corner of his lip with his thumb, the lipstick smearing onto his skin in a faint stain.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. “If it's swollen enough, there won't be a difference, ♡” you teased, leaning in closer as his eyes narrowed at the remark, though his blush betrayed him.

“Loosen up a little, Scara,” Your voice dripped with playful affection. Your fingers played with the waistband of his black shorts, the fastened belt already removed before Scaramouche could even notice.

You could practically hear your lover scrambling and still protesting yet all you responded with was a smirk as his shorts slid down along with his garments, sagging over his feet.

All those complaints just for his tip to already be leaking with precum, the entirety of it just begging for attention. The tint on Scaramouche's cheeks increased, and even more as your palm came in contact with his shaft.

“Fuck–[name]..! ♡” The indigo haired whimpered, his fingers instantly gripping your shoulders. Your thumb swirled the fluid on his tip, smearing it across his length to create a steady pace as you stroke it.

“Look at you.. already a whimpering mess after a few strokes,” Even with his eyes closed, he could hear the smirk in every word you spit out. “S-Shut–mnnh! Shut up..” Scaramouche prompted.

Luckily for the model, the ventilation in the bathroom muffles the wet squelching sound along with his soft moans. He won't live it down if somebody comes in and hears his humiliating sounds, the industry won't react well with a scandal about him..

But with your proximity, those sounds are nowhere near soft. It's sultry; tempting. If it wasn't for your impatience, you'd keep him here and leave him writhing just with the touch of your hands.

Alas, the need was too much—your own trousers joined Scaramouche's on the floor. Your cock slips free, and you entwine it with his in one hand, stroking them simultaneously. “M-My clothessngh.. don't stainhAh♡..~” Scaramouche mewled with his eyes almost rolling back.

The extra sensation increased your lover’s sensitivity, legs shaking. If it wasn't for his tight grip on your shoulders, he'd collapse on the bathroom floor immediately.

Still, you have an extra hand, don't you? It isn't so busy now after Scaramouche feels the digits creeping up to his ass, teasing the entrance.

“No.. [name].. don't touchAH♡♡ngh?!” A whine leaves Scaramouche's lips, his hips bucking forward, making his cock stick closer with yours. This just seems like a trap now—if he moved back, he'd just feel your fingers deeper inside; if he moved forward, you'd be able to rub his cock with yours more efficiently.

As if reading his mind, you took the initiative and pressed against him further. With your lengths together and his hole stretched with your fingers, his head leaned back on the door. Biting his lip wasn't even working anymore, all he could do was moan and hope nobody would walk in at any time.

“Too mucshh.. hah–♡” Scaramouche breathed, his voice trembling as his body tensed from the pleasure. Your actions slowed to a stop, your arms snaking under his legs to his hips, lifting him up with his feet dangling up in the air.

Scaramouche looks at you with a confused look until your grip tightens, and you pressed him firmly against the door, the new angle causing his face to flush. His confusion fades as he feels your cock teasing his entrance.

“Wait– [Name], don’thngK–♡♡!” His disapproval fell short as you've already pushed your tip inside, a soft cry leaving your lover’s lips. “Bastard..! N-Not herenn..”

You fully bottom out and a gasp collectively leaves the both of you. His walls clenched as he felt himself being stretched to make way for your length.

“We'll be quick–”

“We'll be quick my ass!”

A grin appears on your lips—even when filled to the brim, Scaramouche still has the guts to dispute you. Your hips start to move, thrusting into him. His body bounced from your hold, whining every time he feels your tip hitting his prostate.

Scaramouche's back arched off the door, his hand instinctively gripping on your hair, while his head fell to your shoulder, muffling the soft sounds escaping his lips. At this point, the state of his lipstick didn’t matter—it was completely smeared, his makeup now a mess. The tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, mixed with the dark streaks of his mascara. Next time, waterproof mascara might be a better idea.

“I’m goiing to cumhnn..♡” He prompts. “Already?”

“Fuck you–!”

“Quite the opposite, isn't it?” You grinned.

It was evident that his climax was approaching, the way his breaths became shallow and uneven, each exhale mingled with soft whimpers that escaped his lips. You could feel him clenching around your cock, his body writhed against you, seeking more as he instinctively gripped tighter on your hair, as if grounding himself in the moment.

“Close.. ‘m closenh♡hn,” he gasped, eyes fluttering shut, his lips parting as he chased the sweet release that was just within reach.

You quickened your pace slightly, reveling in the way his body reacted, the desperate moans spilling from his mouth urging you on. “Cum for me, pretty boy ♡,” you whispered, your voice coaxing him toward the edge.

He bit on your shoulder, trying to stifle the cries that threatened to escape, but it was futile. “‘M comi–hngGH♡♡♡!” His eyes shot open and rolled back, ropes of cum shooting out and staining your clothes. With him tightening around you, your own climax follows.

The stall is filled with heavy breaths as you both come down from your high, Scaramouche's legs twitching in the air, now folding on your arms. His skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, and the aftermath of your shared moment hangs in the air. You gently lower him, letting his legs wrap loosely around your waist.

Scaramouche leans back against the door, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his composure.

“This is the last time we're doing this,” he mutters, a hint of playful annoyance in his tone as he wipes a tear away, smudging more of the black cosmetic across his cheek.

You laugh, the sound echoing softly in the small stall. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This was definitely not going to be the last time.

[diejager]

hiiiii! can i request a miguel x reader? miguel is a big shady business man (kinda like king pen) who owns a strip club and reader is one of the strippers who everyone knows not to mess with since she’s miguel’s girl. a guy starts sexually harassing reader and miguel kicks his ass and puts him in his place. if you’re cormfortable, i would like smut ❤️

Property Cw: smut, possessive behaviour, DUB-CON, worshipping, sex workers, strip club, pimp, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, marking, stripper/sex worker!reader, tell me if I missed any.

Despite the place being a strip club - one on the higher end of the city - there was one rule that it followed to a T without exception: do not touch the workers without consent, yet this pig decided to forgo this fundamental rule put in place in ever strip club and touched you when you’ve told him many times to back off. His sweaty and grabby hands moving across your skin left you shuddering, his hands leaving you feeling disgusted by his touch.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, moving between the bodies to get away from the man.

“C’mon babe!” He moved to try to grab you, insistent that he only wanted to share a drink and talk, “Please! One lap dance!”

Men like him just couldn’t take no, it frustrated you. That might’ve been what he said : one lap dance, but you knew his type, he would demand for more after you were done and become forceful if you didn’t comply. You tried to distance yourself from him, your heels thumping quietly on the velvet flooring, hurried and annoyed while the man followed you, his fingers grazing the naked skin of your shoulder. You wore a blue teddy, the darkest shade of navy strapped to your skin, the bust acting as a corset to push out your breasts and the thin fabric cupping the swell of your ass. It was almost sheer, the few ribbons and decorative texture hiding anything too intimate from the public and garter straps holding your sheer stockings up your thighs. Your attire seemed to be the source of his obsession and of his liking, even following you to the boss’s VIP corner.

“No!” You swung your arm back, hurrying to the bodyguards standing between the VIP and public area of the club, “I told you-”

In your frantic hiss, you walked into a wall, groaning softly. The wall was more so a wall of sculpted muscle than a plaster and drywall, a firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his protective embrace. A wide and firm palm gripped your stomach, kneading the soft flesh under the lingerie.

“When she says no, it means no, cabrón,” Miguel growled, his broad stature overshadowing the man that followed you. When you turned your head, Miguel had his wrist in hand, the man winced and whimpered at the tight hold, strength threatening to break his wrist, “You got that?”

He nodded, running away with his tail tucked between his legs, out of the club and as far as he could from the beast that held you gently. Turning you around, he led you up the stairs connected to his upstairs suite, a personal balcony that overlooked the proudest part of his kingdom.

“He’s done.”

He wouldn’t be coming back, once Miguel gave the order, the person wouldn't ever be allowed back into any of his establishments. He had rules that he wanted to be respected, towards his employees and especially you, his sweet girl that he picked up from the previous pimp in the area he now controlled with an iron fist towards the cruel and abusive.

His mezzanine was spacious, a soft, faux leather couch, a black able and a private bar area in a corner for him to indulge in his drunken pleasures with or without guests. You’ve always liked this place, a distance from the music and crowd on the ground floor, it was a solace in the busy club. He sat you on the table, the cool surface making you flinch while he faced you, the leather dipping with his weight. He tenderly cradled your cheeks, thumb running along the curve of your painted lips, his eyes roving down your coverage, smooth skin uncovered to his hungry eyes and calling for him.

“Oh, mi dulce Musa,” he cooed, his lips kissing a line down your neck, the dip of your collar, the smell of your breasts and the warmth of your cunt, wetness pooling over the fabric of the teddy he gifted you. “I’m happy you came to me first.”

He hooked a thigh over his shoulder, spreading you on your back as he slipped a finger under your lace, pulling it aside to look at your glistening folds. Sliding two fingers between your labia and collecting your slick on his calloused pads, spreading them open to admire your cunt, clenching around air —hungry for his thick digits. He bowed his head, pressing a kiss on your throbbing clit, pulsing and needy, circling the entrance of your drooling hole, feeling it clench. Wrapping his lips around your nub, he sucked on it as he plunged in, two fingers stretching your tight warmth, guiding his hand in and out.

You cried out, bucking your hips against his rugged face, grinding upwards with a slow mewl. You felt stretched wide, a finger of his counted two of yours, long and sturdy, pumping into you with a goal in mind, tapping your gummy, sweet spot and pulling you apart from the seams. You moaned, shuddering under him, body wracked with tremors when he pumped a third finger, untangling you from the seams of your salacious and confident image you built from your time as a sex worker. You were a wanton mess, back arching and legs quaking, painted nails curled around Miguel’s hair, pleasure coiled tightly in your core.

His pace was steady, hand driving in deeply, coaxing more slick out of you, curling against your warmth. You clung to him desperately, head thrown back and teary eyed as you balanced on the precipice of your climax, an agonising thrum of pleasure beating between your thighs. Sensing your end, he rolled your clit with the tip of his tongue, giving you a bit of solace before he sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh. You wailed, jerking around as your pussy closed around his fingers, your heat squirting over his hand. It was a blinding fire, eyes rolling back into a white cloud, sightless after your earth-shattering orgasm.

He whispered sweet compliments, laving over the bloodied mark with the flat of his tongue, slowly pumping in and out of you until you rode off your release, legs still shaking and hands still curled around his head. He kissed his bite, red eyes drinking in your debauched figure with his mark, a sign of ownership over you, the red indentation of his teeth bleeding you.

“Mía. Mi dulce Musa,” he whispered, gazing at you lovingly, predatory eyes glowing bright red under his lashes and wild curls.

Taglist: @yas-v @elliewilliamsbae @rinieloliver

[pepperyduck]

“wedding night” with suguru geto

word count: 1.1k

warnings: nsfw, dubcon (alochol use but just a little), toys, restraints, power imbalance/dynamics, a little dark tbh, mentions of “breaking” reader, abrupt ending

notes: this one is soooooo bad idk how to write for geto :3 but he is soo pretty and i wish i could do him more justice

“how do you feel, my love?”

a shaky breath leaves your lungs,

“nervous. i’m nervous, sugu.”

and your stomach churns with each passing second.

“you have nothing to be nervous about, it’s just me. now roll over, on your stomach,” geto’s saccharine voice does little to calm you as he demands you to get into position. white lace cascades and seldomly covers your skin, the white garter your newlywed husband fished out of your dress earlier in the evening sat above your knee again. perfection.

despite the both of you being somewhat tipsy from the nights previous activities, suguru seems all too focused, with the fingers like that of a doctor, touching a patient with the utmost care. like you’re a flower, a delicate thing to be ruined so easily, at just a touch. suguru would compare your beauty in this moment to that of a flower, too.

the rope he had chosen was a decision made with utmost care, a thin, soft, silky; all in hopes to not burn your skin too badly. that rope is no match to your strength, yes. suguru knows his wife won’t dare disobey him. smoothly, the soft threads land over your wrists, a few times, growing strength in numbers. it threads through the gap of your arms, around again, a soft tug to pull it all together. the gorgeous creamy white of the bindings are a soft touch in comparison to the way your wrists are bound.

“roll back over.”

he commands you as if you’re a dog, somewhat degradingly and yet you listen to his every command. a good girl, suguru thinks.

“suguru—,”

“aht,” he tuts, “sit up.” and you’re shut up in a few coldly toned words. and, although the words he says slip off his tongue rather harshly, there’s still humanity in his touch with you; he’s gentle, helping you sit up without the usage of your own hands. his skin is soft. you’re softer.

jingles lightly rattle in your ears, a tell-tale sign that there’s more being added into the mix. your eyes flash down to your husband’s hands—a pretty red ball gag contrasted with black leather sits atop his palm.

“sugu, i dunno—,”

“you’ll be fine, i know your limits.”

and he does, truly. suguru is too attentive and doting to not know the limitations of your body, of your mind. even though it’s a little forced, your eyes blink and you trust him. you give yourself up to him, without words, allowing for his kind hands to wrap the gag around your pretty head. the corners of his mouth tug into a grin, while yours are pried open to engulf the silicon ball halfway.  suguru tenderly locks the gag in place, something shallow of a smirk showing on his lips.

you’re nervous. anxious, and doe-eyed, staring up at your husband as he slowly begins to take away your power. he’s taken away your arms, your speech, and seemingly more as he works his way down your body with kisses. even without restraints, you’re unable to move, you know not to move, you don’t do so much as quiver as suguru’s skilled hands travel along your skin. he lays you back on the buttery pillows, stripping you of your lacy panties you were sure he’d spent your net worth on. you feel exposed, and you just can’t shake the feeling of nervousness, never having given up this much control to suguru.

“open your legs.”

you’re too dazed to even realize you had snapped your thighs shut when the cold air hit you. something in your brain short circuits. you feel frozen, your legs won’t move.

“open your legs.” suguru’s tone drops, almost dangerously, a warning sign for you to listen. against your better judgement, your thighs slowly pry open, butterflying to the side. suguru’s voice is—always has been—like mind control. a dizzying blunder of words that contort you to every syllable.

click!

bzzz

a soft buzzing begins aloud from in between your legs, causing you to look down wide-eyed at the source. it’s a wand vibrator—where did he even get that? you’d never used toys with him, never really needing to, but with everything that he somehow pulls out of thin air, you find it hard to believe he just bought this stuff.

even through the build-up of wherever suguru was about to take you, he had the always sweet, sinister smile on his face; the same one he lured you in with all that time ago. that same smile is the last thing you see before you screw your eyes shut, bracing for the impact of the vibrator he held on to. however, much to your surprise, you feel a familiar thumb run over your folds, spreading your slick arousal all over. and, much to your dismay, suguru moves to slot himself in between your legs.

oh, you can’t close them now.

there’s no running away. not from suguru, not from what he’s about to give you. his thumb sends a few waves of pleasure, although he’s ignoring the most sensitive parts, all the while you still prepare yourself for what’s to come.

“i’m going to use it now, okay?” suguru coos, as if you have a choice. “look at me.”

your eyes flutter open, landing on your husband who’s still somewhat dressed up. he’s only smiling contently, holding the buzzing vibrator inches away from your heat. you try your best to control your breathing through your nose, and you notice geto’s head bobbing up and down in time with your breaths. he knowingly locks eyes with you, and you can begin to hear his emphasized breaths, queueing for you to follow along with him. so you do.

it calms you.

just enough before the vibrating head of the toy makes harsh contact with your clit. your body jolts, the new sensation overwhelming your core within the first few milliseconds. and you, suddenly, become awfully aware of the restraints holding your arms, and the gag in your mouth, and suguru’s all-too-built body holding your legs open. the hand that isn’t holding the vibrator presses down on your thigh, consequently spreading you open for his taking.

“mm—mm!” you try to speak, but it only comes out as muffled noises to your husband, causing that sickeningly sweet smile to appear on his face again. thrashing around, you try to back away from the assault on your clit, and of course it’s all in vain. you can’t go anywhere, suguru is too strong.

and, suguru really likes the idea of torturing you with pleasure. whatever he wants, he gets. and right now, all he wants is to make you give in to it, give in to him.

truthfully, suguru wants to break you tonight.

and you won’t be going anywhere until he does just that.

[mochie85]

Laced Intentions

One-Shots Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: You try to seduce your new lover with lingerie that he can't resist. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 3.2K Warnings: SoftDom!Loki, jealous Loki, hand works, slight degradation, rough seggs, lots of thrusting, fluff, happy ending (as always). A/N: Thor, Steve, and Bucky make a brief appearance. This fic was inspired by a TikTok I saw by Delacruz Collections. Check out their store. Or their TikTok. GIF of the actual set after fic. Dividers: @firefly-graphics

You needed to hurry. Loki had texted you saying he would be home soon, and you had to finish getting all the little straps tightened and make sure that everything was secured. Tonight was going to be the night.

You and Loki had just started this relationship and have yet to do anything more than heavy petting and heated make-out sessions. You knew it was because he was cautious around you. He was scared that he didn’t know his own strength. He could get lost in the moment and unknowingly hurt you.

You told him that it was ok. You trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you purposely. Even so, you wouldn’t mind it being a little rough. Especially if he was the one commanding you and your body. But he wouldn’t relent.

You’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way his eyes devour every inch of your body. Licking his lips and rubbing his neck. You knew he ached for you. Just as much as you craved him.

He said so himself one night, as you straddled his lean frame and pushed him down on your bed. You had his hard dick in your hand, stroking him up and down, as you rubbed it against your needy clit. The pulsing veins on his hard cock kissing your wet lips, tantalizing your release. “…f-fuck…don’t stop, pet,” he panted. His eyes rolled back as his head sunk further into the pillow.  

“Baby…I need you inside me,” you whimpered as you continued to stroke him closer and closer to his release.

“Oh, gods! I want nothing more than to be inside you,” he said, his eyes closed from the exquisite torture you were giving him. He didn’t see you line yourself up over him. His leaking tip, red from need, eagerly crying to be inside you.

But Loki was quick. In an instant, he pinned you down on the bed before you could sink yourself onto his throbbing length. Both of your hands were suspended above your head in one of his strong grips. He continued to grind himself against you, making you cry out his name.

“Ah, ah, ah. Naughty little thing. I told you we can’t.”

“But you said-” he kissed you fiercely, making you forget the rest of your words as he expertly made you cum from his grinding alone.

You sighed at the memory.  Loki is such a passionate lover hiding underneath false notions of your fragility. You rolled your eyes at your many attempts to seduce him and convince him that you are not as fragile as he thinks you are. You can take whatever he wants to give you. And God did you wish he would give it all to you!

So when you first saw this lingerie masterpiece of sex and eroticism, you were left speechless. You clenched your thighs just imagining what Loki would do to you when he saw you in it. Green satin straps and ribbons were constructed and held together by gold hooks and clasps. The garter and cuffs were attached by a dainty gold chain, leading back to a central choker on your neck. Each strand was decorated with small baubles of crystal that sparkled under the light, connecting all the pieces to you. You only hoped that the links would survive his rough hands. It was rather pretty and you’d hate to see it broken.

You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror before you heard the latch of the front door. He was finally home! You put on your silk robe, leaving it untied so he can see a peek of what was underneath, and you walked out of your bedroom.

The clack of your heels echoed in the hallway, announcing your arrival. The first person you spotted was Loki. His eyes met yours and then traveled down your body in the most ravenous way possible. The beer he was about to put against his lips, forgotten. As were the words in his mouth. You stood at the threshold, surprised to see that Loki wasn’t alone. It was only now you registered the other voices and laughter you heard only seconds too late.

The room went quiet as you noted the other people in the kitchen. Steve, Bucky, and Thor, each with their own pizza box in front of them, had gone quiet. Watching you in shock. You were thankful you had put on your robe, at least, even though it was still open. Everyone could see what you were wearing underneath.

Oh fuck, you thought. Well, there’s no point hiding now. Smiling with fake bravado, you greeted Loki home. “Welcome home, handsome,” you said giving Loki a chaste kiss on his lips. “I didn’t know we were having company over. I’ll go change.” You smiled and turned to walk away.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Gentlemen,” you smiled and nodded.

“Bye Y/N.” The trio said in unison as you walked back into the bedroom to change.

Brief silence overtook the room as the men’s eyes darted between a stunned Loki and where you escaped to. “Listen, if you don’t go in there right now…” Steve pointed to your bedroom. “I will personally take Bucky’s arm off and beat you with it!” Steve threatened.

“Or, you know…I could go in there.” Bucky offered, earning a snarl from Loki’s lips.

“Leave! Now!” Loki ordered.

“Right. See ya tomorrow,” Steve said with a casual salute.

“Pfft! Knowing my brother, he will most likely take all night, and all day tomorrow too.” Thor laughed as he gathered his pizza box and a six-pack of beer.

Bucky just laughed, punching Loki in the shoulder. “Let’s go to Sam’s. That guy doesn’t have a sex life.” He said to the others.

Loki stood there, still trying to process what he saw, as each man clapped his shoulder in parting. The creak and latch of the front door closing brought Loki back to his present mind.

He stalked down the hallway, following the subtle hint of your perfume. He inhaled deeply, your scent driving him mad.

The first thing he saw when he opened the bedroom door was your robe, discarded on the bed. He followed your gentle humming into the closet where you stood looking through your sundresses. Loki quietly walked in, blocking your escape. He noted your skin, radiant and perfect, complimenting the shiny satin of the straps holding you together. Loki’s eyes followed the gold chain that dripped from your neck down to the garters and matching cuffs they hooked onto.

“That was quite a show parading into the room like that,” he said in your ear. His whispered breath tickled you, making you shiver.

“I didn’t know we would have company. Let me just pick a dress and I’ll join you shortly.”

“Will you continue to wear this underneath?” he teased, knowing full well that everyone had already left. His breath fanned the side of your face. His fingers ghosted over the ribbons, tracing them down your hips.

You craved his touch, patiently waiting for him to connect to your body. “Touch me, please” you prayed.

“Oh, and why should I give in to your requests, kitten? You’ve been awfully naughty.” His hands continued to eclipse your body. You could feel the heat from his palms traveling up and down, tracing the many straps and where they lead to. You closed your eyes at the sensation. The anticipation. Loki was a master at building you up.

“I…I didn’t know…this was only meant for you,” you whined.

“I think you did know,” Loki scoffed. “I think you wanted to make me jealous.” His voice got deeper. More dangerous. “So jealous that I would have to claim you. Is that what you want, darling? For me to claim you in front of the others? So desperate to have my cock inside you that you would parade yourself in this seductive little number so that I might take action. You should’ve seen the way Barnes was looking at you.”

“Loki, I-”

“Hands up.” He commanded and you obeyed quickly, holding on to the bar that hung all your clothes. Loki kicked your heels apart, spreading you open, and making you bend at the waist. He placed himself behind you.  His palm spanked you on your right side making you scream out and moan. It didn’t hurt. It never hurt with Loki.

“You were so brazen. Only I get to see you like this. Do you understand?” he charged as you heard the buckle of his belt loosen, the zipper of his pants being opened. He grabbed your hair gently and pulled you back to him.

“I was only trying to surprise you. I didn’t know they would be here!” you moaned as you fought hard not to bite your lip. His fingers finally caress the pulse point of your neck, trailing down to the valley of your breast. His hands got caught in the chains and you can hear the soft clink of them breaking in his grasp.

He cupped your sex, making you mewl to his touch. “This is mine, and mine alone!”

“Yours…” you sighed.

“Again!” he said dipping his agile fingers inside you.

“Yours…sir,” you said barely above a whisper. Loki closed his eyes, savoring your submission.

“Oh, you are sinful!” Loki said, his resolve breaking. “I try to be good. I try to protect you from me. But you seem hell-bent on breaking me don’t you, kitten?” His lips crashed into yours. He sucked on your lower lip as his fingers continued to work your clit.

You pushed back against him, feeling his hard erection against your back. “Please…Loki…sir.”

Loki grunted in defeat. He took a deep breath and looked straight into your eyes.  “If we do this, kitten, I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle. I’m scared I won’t be able to stop once I have you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can never hurt me, Loki.” You tried to shine your love through, showcasing how much trust you had for him.

He turned you to face him, capturing your lips in a strong but zealous kiss. He spoke in between teeth and tongue, your breath mingling with his, “If it gets too much, tell me.”

“It won’t be too much,” you tried to reassure him.

“You will tell me!” he growled, backing you out of the closet and into your bedroom.

“I’ll tell you. I promise,” you assured, looking deep into his ocean eyes.

“Good!” With that one word, he picked you up by your upper things and carried you towards the bed. You wrapped your legs around his waist as his fingers toyed with the garters gripping your thighs.

“This is beautiful, kitten,” he breathed. His cock struggling in between your pressed bodies. His teeth found purchase on the skin of your shoulder. “All wrapped up for me like a little present.” He threw you, almost carelessly, on the bed. You preened at how easily he was able to manhandle you. How effortlessly he was able to manipulate your body. You watched him take his shirt off, exposing the hard planes of his abs. The definition of his lean muscle guiding your eyes down to his exposed cock.

You felt the bed dip when he knelt in front of you. He pumped himself, once. Twice, before he teased your entrance with his stiff girth. “Loki, please. Don’t tease me.”

“Like the way you teased me with this?” he pinched the gusset of your thong and let it go, snapping the fabric on your overstimulated folds. It stung with painful pleasure as you cried out. He pushed the gusset to the side as he eased himself inside you. First, his massive tip, pulling it in and out. Teasing you relentlessly of what’s to come. Then, inch by inch, he sheathed himself inside you. Filling your walls.

Loki lost his sanity. To finally be inside you. Inside your warmth and your passion. To be surrounded by your scent and your moans, he couldn’t handle it and he was slowly going feral with each inch he fed your eager cunt. When he bottomed out, you cried as his pelvic bone rutted against your sensitive nub.

“You feel so good, pet. Better than I had ever imagined,” he said breathlessly as he started thrusting. His fingers curved around your supple thighs, bruising marks of purple and blue. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. Each gasp of air only fueled your desire for him even more. He felt so good.

So. Damn. Good.

With each stroke he would take his tip to your entrance, stretching you, and then push back inside. Loki filled you like no one has done before, and most likely never will.

“Awe, my poor darling-” thrust. “What’s the matter?” thrust. “Have I rendered you speechless?” thrust. “I thought this was what you wanted?” You nodded your head, whimpering like an untouched virgin.  He spread his thighs further apart on the bed, pushing your knees closer to your chest, to receive him deeper. He held your shoulders down, your body sinking into the silken mattress, keeping you immobile and unable to escape the onslaught of his hard cock.

“You’re going to be good for me, right kitten? You’re going to take all of me in.” He commanded, his voice barely above a whimper. Loki was going to lose it soon and he knew it. You felt so good around him. All it would take was a few more strong thrusts and he would scream out your name to the heavens.

With his new position over you, he started diving faster. More aggressive. He pushed himself further inside you. Down to his hilt, sheathing himself inside your heated folds. “Loki!” you yelled out. You grabbed hold of his arms, your nails digging into his skin leaving half-moon marks. You squeezed his cock tighter, and you were rewarded with the deepest, most beautiful, feral sound coming from his lips.

“Ah- fuck! That’s it pet, squeeze me. Gods, you feel so good. I might just have to leave myself inside you.   -heh- Would you like that, kitten?” thrust. “Want to be my cock warmer?” thrust. “Keep me cozy all night?” thrust.

You simply nodded your head. You knew Loki asked you a question, but you couldn’t make sense of anything right now besides the feel of his hard length stretching you open, over and over again.

“I asked you a question, darling,” he said grabbing your chin and squeezing your lips to pout. “I made you into a little cock-slut haven’t I?” thrust. “Can’t seem to think at all can you?” thrust.

“…Loki…” you called out with each slam of his hips.

“That’s all right. As long as it’s my name you’re calling out. My name that you’re begging for.” Loki looked down at you. Your skin was aglow from the beads of sweat and pleasure. Your hair was a crown above you tangled in a mess. And your lips had captured one of his fingers still holding onto your chin, sucking it down to the webbing of his hand.

With a pop, he took his finger out of your mouth and drew it down your neck, leaving a cold trail on your heated skin. “I’ll have use of those talents later, my dear.” Loki laid his weight on top of you, caging your head in between his arms. His sweet lips sucked hard on your salted skin leaving you crying out for more. Your hands were left clawing his back as he grunted and moaned into your ear.

“I…I…can’t…Loki…youfeel…m’soclose…” you were incoherent. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t talk. The only thing on your mind was his name. “…Loki…”

“Cum for me, kitten. Cum with me,” he growled in your ear. Your whole body tightened up. You dug your nails deep into his back and screamed your release as he slammed himself down on you hard. He grunted his pleasure in your ear, releasing a savage growl that shook your body beneath him. The euphoric wave wouldn’t stop. Loki remained still, but you could feel him throbbing inside you, coating your walls, sending you spiraling into delirious bliss.

He remained on top of you, unable and unwilling to move away from your exquisite sex. The first thing you felt after coming down from your high was Loki’s soft lips on your neck. You turned and captured them with your own, pulling his weight further down onto you.

“Are you all right, darling.” He whispered tentatively. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“Wh-what do you mean? I feel so good, baby. You feel so good!” you said smiling.

“Was I too rough? I must’ve been. I can see my marks all over your neck.” Loki lifted himself off you and he found your lingerie shredded and clawed to pieces around your sheets. “Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I was worried this would happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Loki started rambling.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You tried to quiet him down. “Loki, look at me! I’m not hurt. I feel wonderful.” You held his worried face in your hands and soothed his hair out of place. “Did you enjoy it?” you asked, and he nodded his head. He laid next to you, spooning you.

“Every second. Every thrust,” he said, burying his nose in your hair. “I just want to stay wrapped in your warmth forever. I don’t know why we waited so long.” You laughed at his admission. You lay there in his embrace, replaying the sinful moment in your head. Smiles on both your faces as you stole kisses from each other.

Until you remembered something. “Come on. The guys are probably sick of waiting for us,” you said trying to get out of bed.

“They left a while ago,” he finally confessed. Loki aggressively pulled you back onto the bed and into his arms. “I told them to leave as soon as you walked back in here to change,” he declared, straddling over you, pinning you back down on the bed.

“I’m afraid you’ve unleashed something in me, dear,” he said as he took one of your discarded ribbons and tied both your hands up with it. “Now, I did say that I was going to see to that mouth of yours, didn’t I?”

“Does Loki know you have a key to his apartment?” Bucky asked Thor.

“Of course he does. He’s my brother. He’s the one that gave me this key.” Thor said trying to act nonchalant.

“Come on guys. Grab the beer, and let’s go. I don’t want to miss the game.” Steve tried to hurry them. Thor opened the doors and all three men walked in looking for the forgotten twelve-pack that was left on the counter.

“Oh, Loki! Oh, fu-baby don’t stop. Don’t stop! Yes. Yes. YES!”

The three men paused hearing you scream from your bedroom. Steve blushed a strawberry red and walked right out the door.

“I just learned my lesson! Never come here uninvited.” Thor said shaking his head. He pocketed his key and followed Steve.

“Lucky bastard!” Bucky chuckled as he grabbed the beer and locked the door.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @vickie5446 @psychospore @mukagentropy @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallows @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine

[speaknow-sw]

𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒦𝒯𝒪𝐵𝐸𝑅 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

24/10/2024, Prompt : Crossdressing, Sex Toys & Spanking with Scott Barringer

A/N : mdni, consensual non-con, spanking, sex toys, crossdressing, slight mindbreaking, feminization. Fourth fic guys, this one is FUCKING LONG but that bratty sub Scott deserved his fic too ! Poor baby, he just need to feel safe and and loved :(

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁𝓈 𝒹𝑜

Scott lounged against the back of the chair, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. He had been testing your patience all evening, pushing boundaries, his remarks sharp and teasing. You stood in front of him, arms folded, your gaze unwavering, no longer entertained by his little game.

"You think this is funny?" Your voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it that made him glance up, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Scott shrugged, his smirk widening. "What? You’re the one getting all worked up."

You took a slow step toward him, your eyes never leaving his. The room seemed to grow smaller, the tension thickening as your presence filled the space. He straightened slightly, the shift in your demeanor finally catching his attention.

"You’ve been acting like a brat all night, Scott. And I think it’s time you learn why that’s not going to work with me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the look in your eyes silenced him. You stepped even closer, until there was barely any space left between you. Your voice dropped lower, firm and controlled, as you leaned in.

"I don’t think you realize who you’re dealing with."

For the first time that night, Scott’s smirk faltered. His pulse quickened as the air between them shifted. Whatever game he had been playing was over now. You weren’t angry—no, this was something else entirely. Something far more commanding.

He swallowed, unsure for the first time how to respond. You smiled then, slow and deliberate, leaning even closer.

"Now, are you ready to behave?" You asked, your voice silk over steel, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

« Take your costume. Panty, bralette, stockings and garters included. I want everything » You snarled

Scott's breath caught in his throat as he heard your command. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his eyes widening in shock. The room suddenly felt stiflingly hot, the air thick with tension.

He glanced down at his hands, clasped tightly in his lap, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. Swallowing hard, he met your gaze, his blue eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement.

"Y-you want me to... to put that on? Now?" His voice was barely above a whisper, trembling slightly. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The idea of wearing women's lingerie, of exposing himself like that, made his heart race.

But even as his mind reeled, he found himself nodding, almost imperceptibly. There was a part of him that craved this, that wanted to submit to your every whim. He had always been drawn to you, to your strength and confidence. And now, here you were, demanding his complete obedience.

"Yes, miss," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "I'll do whatever you say."

He reached for the bag containing the lingerie, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled out the delicate garments. The panties were sheer and lacy, the bralette barely more than a scrap of fabric. The stockings were silk, with intricate garters to hold them up.

Scott stood slowly, his legs trembling slightly as he faced you. He held the lingerie up, his eyes meeting yours questioningly.

"Where... where do you want me to change?" he asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

Scott stood there, holding the lingerie, his body trembling slightly as he awaited your response. The sheer material of the panties and bralette felt foreign in his hands, a stark contrast to the clothes he was used to wearing. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, his face flushed with embarrassment and anticipation.

He glanced around the room, searching for a place to change. The bed, the dresser, even the closet door – everywhere he looked, his eyes kept returning to you, taking in the intensity of your gaze. It was as if you were seeing right through him, reading his thoughts and feelings.

"In front of you, miss?" he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. The thought of stripping down in your presence, of revealing himself completely, made his heart race even faster. But he knew better than to disobey your command.

Slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. He pulled the shirt off, revealing his pale, smooth skin, and tossed it aside. Next, he unfastened his jeans and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them and kicking them away.

Now clad only in his boxers, Scott felt more exposed than ever before. He stood there, vulnerable and uncertain, his eyes locked on yours. He could see the desire in your gaze, the hunger that made his body ache with longing.

He shimmied out of his boxer, his cock already semi-hard from the thrill of submitting to you. He stepped into the lacy panties, pulling them up his thighs and settling them around his waist. The material was so sheer that he could feel the air against his skin, making him shiver.

Next, he slipped on the bralette, adjusting it so that his chest was pushed up and displayed for your viewing pleasure. As he reached for the stockings, his hands shook slightly, the anticipation building within him. He rolled each one up his leg, fastening the garters to hold them in place.

Your eyes racked in his body hungrily. « Such a good girl » You purred as you pushed him on the bed « Now, now, now… you were acting like a little brat earlier. Being mean, being provocative, swearing …doing anything you wanted. » You chuckled taking out a box. « Now, choose some sextoys for your punishment. »

Scott's eyes widened as he felt the bed beneath him, his body sinking into the soft mattress. He looked up at you, confusion and excitement swirling in his gaze. Your words washed over him, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Being mean? Swearing ?" he repeated, his voice uncertain. It was almost too easy, too tempting. The brat in him, the rebellious streak that had gotten him into trouble all night, surged forward.

"Fuck that," he spat, his blue eyes flashing with defiance. "I'm not your fucking doll, you know. I don't want to be punished."

He sat up, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement causing the lacy bralette to shift slightly. The sheer panties rode up his thighs as he moved, exposing even more of his pale, smooth skin.

"You can't make me do shit," he continued, his voice growing louder, more aggressive. "I'm not gonna be your little bitch, no matter what you say."

Despite his words, there was a glint in his eye, a hint of mischief that belied his true feelings. He was enjoying this, enjoying the power dynamic shifting between you.

His gaze fell to the box in your hands, and he licked his lips unconsciously. He knew what was inside, knew the kinds of toys that could bring him to his knees. But he wasn't about to admit that.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to be?" he sneered, gesturing towards the box. "Some kind of sick punishment? Well, I don't fucking want it. I'm not into that shit."

Even as he spoke, he could feel his cock twitch in the confines of the sheer panties. The thrill of defying you, of pushing your buttons, was intoxicating. He wanted to see how far he could go, wanted to test the limits of your patience.

"You know what? Fuck you," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "I'm done being your little puppet. I'm not gonna do what you want, no matter how much you try to make me."

You gripped his hair pushing his head against the mattress. « Choose some toys » You snarled angrily « Brat » You tsk-ed

Scott gasped as you gripped his hair, forcing his head against the mattress. The pain mixed with pleasure, sending a jolt through his body. He could feel the roughness of the sheets against his skin, the cool air hitting his exposed flesh.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He knew he was pushing you, testing your limits. But the thrill of it, the danger, was too intoxicating to resist.

Reluctantly, he reached for the box, his fingers trembling slightly as he opened it. Inside were an array of toys, each one more intimidating than the last. Vibrators, dildos, paddles, and restraints all stared back at him, promising pleasure and pain in equal measure.

He picked up a small vibrator, turning it over in his hands. It was sleek and black, with a tapered tip that looked like it could bring him to his knees. He tossed it onto the bed beside him, reaching for something else.

Next, he chose a pair of leather cuffs, running his fingers over the soft material. They were adjustable, with a sturdy buckle that would keep him restrained no matter how much he struggled. He set those aside as well, his mind racing with the possibilities.

As he rummaged through the box, he could feel your eyes on him, watching his every move. The intensity of your gaze made him shiver, made his skin prickle with goosebumps. He knew he was putting on a show, knew that every toy he chose was another step towards his own punishment.

But he couldn't stop himself. The brat in him, the part that craved attention and control, refused to be silenced. He continued to select toys, each one more daring than the last. A paddle with raised bumps, a dildo that looked impossibly large, a blindfold that promised to take away his sight and leave him at your mercy.

When he was finished, he tossed the box aside, the contents scattered across the bed. He looked up at you, his blue eyes defiant, his chest heaving with anticipation.

"There," he said, his voice rough and challenging. "That's what you wanted, isn't it? To see me becoming your little bitch ?"

Scott's heart raced as he lay there, surrounded by the toys he had chosen. He could see the anger in your eyes, the frustration that radiated from you like a physical force. But he couldn't bring himself to apologize, couldn't find the words to take back his defiant actions.

He knew he was playing with fire, knew that his behavior would only lead to more intense consequences. But the thrill of it, the adrenaline that coursed through his veins, was too powerful to ignore.

As you loomed over him, he could feel the heat of your body, the tension in the air between you. His skin tingled with anticipation, every nerve ending on high alert. He wanted to know what would come next, wanted to feel the full force of your dominance.

"Go on then," he taunted, his voice low and husky. "Show me what happens when I'm a bad girl."

He arched his back slightly, pressing his body against the toys scattered across the bed. The cool metal of the vibrator pressed against his cheek, the leather cuffs brushing against his wrists. He could feel the weight of the paddle, the promise of pain that it carried.

"I'm ready," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heart. "Do your worst."

"Little bitch." You spat taking his wrists and cuffing them behind his back. Next, you took the blindfold and wrapped it around his head. "I don’t like this. You choose things too easy. Let’s spice it. I bet you can take it like the good little slut you are." You seethed taking a spreading bar out of the box and clasped it to his stockings-clad ankles, making it impossible for him to close his legs. "Which gag do you want, beautiful ? The ball one or the ring one ?" You chuckled.

Scott's breath hitched as he felt the cold metal of the cuffs click shut around his wrists, binding them tightly behind his back. The sudden loss of mobility sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through his veins.

He squirmed slightly as you knotted the blindfold around his head, plunging him into darkness. The lack of sight heightened his other senses, making him hyperaware of every touch, every sound. He could hear your breathing, feel the heat of your body as you moved around him.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice muffled by the blindfold. The word was barely audible, but he knew you heard it. He knew you could sense his fear, his anticipation, his desperate need for more.

As you attached the spreading bar to his ankles, he let out a soft whine. The cold metal against his skin made him gasp, his body instinctively trying to close his legs. But the bar held them apart, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

He could feel the cool air on his most intimate parts, could feel the dampness beginning to form at the top of his cock, soaking the thin panty. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of embarrassment and arousal that made his head spin.

"I... I don't know," he stammered, his voice trembling slightly. " Fuck, none of them."

He didn't want to admit it, didn't want to give in to the desire that coursed through him. But he knew that the ball gag would muffle his cries, would keep him from begging for mercy or pleading for more. It would leave him completely at your mercy, completely under your control.

He knew he was powerless to stop you, knew that he had brought this upon himself with his bratty behavior. And yet, a part of him reveled in the submission, in the knowledge that he was completely at your mercy.

You shoved the ball gag in his mouth and clasped it behind his head, patting his head. "Good girl," You purred before gripping his hair. "Aren’t you a whiny little bitch ?"

Scott's eyes widened as he felt the ball gag press against his lips, his mouth stretching wide to accommodate the intrusion. The taste of rubber filled his mouth, the flavor foreign and slightly bitter. As you fastened the straps behind his head, he let out a muffled whimper, the sound barely audible over the thundering of his own heart.

He could feel your hand on his head, stroking his hair in a way that should have been comforting but only served to heighten his anxiety. Your words, spoken in that sickeningly sweet tone, made his skin crawl.

"Mmph!" he protested, his voice muffled by the gag. He tried to shake his head, to pull away from your touch, but the cuffs held him firmly in place. He was trapped, helpless, completely at your mercy.

As you gripped his hair, tugging sharply, he couldn't help but let out a yelp of pain. The sensation shot through him, making his toes curl and his body arch involuntarily. He hated the way his body responded to your touch, hated the way his cock twitched in the confines of the sheer panties.

"Nmph!" he whined, his voice rising in pitch. He knew he was being a brat, knew that his behavior would only earn him more punishment. But he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop the needy whimpers and pathetic pleas that spilled from his lips.

He wanted to beg you to stop, to release him from this torment. But he also wanted more, wanted to feel the full force of your dominance, your control. He was caught in a cycle of pain and pleasure, of fear and desire, and he couldn't see a way out.

You shook his head  I asked you a question. "Aren’t you a whiny little bitch ?" You snarled. Scott's head snapped back as you shook it roughly, the motion sending a jolt of pain through his neck. He let out a muffled whine, the sound barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.

He knew what you wanted to hear, knew that you expected him to admit his own weakness, his own submission. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, couldn't utter the words that would seal his fate.

"Mmph!" he protested, his voice rising in pitch as he tried to shake his head. But the cuffs held him firmly in place, his movements restricted, his body completely at your mercy.

He could feel the tears beginning to form in his eyes, could feel the humiliation burning in his cheeks. He hated the way you were treating him, hated the way you were making him feel. But he also knew that he had brought this upon himself, that his bratty behavior had only earned him more punishment.

As you continued to hold his head, your grip tightening, he felt a wave of panic wash over him. He was trapped, helpless, completely at your mercy. And he had no idea what you had in store for him next.

He tried to speak, to plead with you, to beg for mercy. But the gag muffled his words, leaving him unable to communicate, unable to express his desperation.

"Nmph!" he whimpered, his voice breaking as he struggled against the restraints. He wanted to break free, to escape this nightmare. But he knew it was futile, knew that he was powerless to stop you.

As the tears began to fall, trailing down his cheeks, he finally understood the depth of his submission, the extent of his own weakness. He was a whiny little bitch, just as you had said. And he would pay the price for his bratty behavior, no matter how much it hurt.

You saw him cry "Shhh, no babygirl, don’t cry. Don’t waste your pretty tears. Please, sweet things…" You cooed kissing all over his face.

Scott's body trembled as he felt your lips on his skin, your gentle kisses a stark contrast to the rough treatment he had received moments before. He was confused, torn between the desire to push you away and the longing to give in to your touch.

As you continued to kiss him, your soft words washing over him like a soothing balm, he felt his resolve crumbling. He wanted to believe you, wanted to trust in your kindness, in the love you claimed to have for him.

"Mmmph," he whimpered, his voice muffled by the gag. He tried to turn his face away, to escape the tenderness of your touch, but the cuffs held him firmly in place. He was trapped, forced to endure the onslaught of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

He could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, the saltiness stinging his eyes. But he couldn't stop them, couldn't control the flood of emotions that surged through him. He was tired, exhausted from the constant battle between his desire for submission and his need for control.

As your lips found his, he let out a soft moan, his body melting into yours despite his best efforts to resist. He knew he was giving in, knew that he was surrendering to your dominance. But he couldn't help himself, couldn't fight the magnetic pull that drew him to you.

In that moment, he realized that he needed you, needed your guidance, your love, and your control. He was your little girl, your whiny little bitch, and he would embrace that identity, no matter what it cost him.

As you continued to kiss him, your hands roaming over his body, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He was safe, protected, and loved. And he would do anything to keep that feeling, to stay in your good graces.

"Mmmmph," he moaned again, his voice a desperate plea for more. He wanted you to take control, to show him the depths of his submission, to make him feel alive.

He knew that he had brought this upon himself, that his bratty behavior had only earned him more punishment. But he also knew that he deserved it, that he needed to be reminded of his place

"I’m gonna take care of you baby, this is a punishment but it’s also my way to love you. I love you baby, you’re safe…" You cooed, stroking his cheek. You took the paddle and slowly turned him on his stomach. "The punishment is almost finished sweetheart, almost. I just need to spank you for you to understand the extent of my forgiveness. Ten little slaps and it’ll be over, try to count okay little one ?" You crooned.

Scott's heart raced as he felt your hand on his cheek, your soothing words washing over him like a warm embrace. He knew that the punishment was coming, knew that he had earned it with his bratty behavior. But in that moment, he also knew that he was safe, that he was loved, and that the pain would be worth it in the end.

As you turned him on his stomach, he could feel the cool sheets against his skin, the roughness of the fabric a reminder of his vulnerability. He tried to brace himself for the impact, to steel himself against the pain, but he knew it was futile. He was completely at your mercy, and he would have to endure whatever you had in store for him.

"Mmmph!" he whimpered, the sound muffled by the gag. He wanted to ask for mercy, to beg for forgiveness, but he knew that it was too late. The only thing he could do now was accept his punishment, to count the slaps and hope that they would be enough to satisfy your anger.

He felt the paddle against his skin, the cool wood a stark contrast to the heat of his body. And then, without warning, the first slap landed. The pain was sharp, intense, and he couldn't help but gasp, his body arching involuntarily.

One.

The second slap came quickly, the sting even worse than the first. He bit down on the gag, trying to muffle his cries, but it was no use. The tears flowed freely, his body shaking with each blow.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

By the time he reached five, his bottom was throbbing, the pain radiating throughout his entire body. But he didn't dare stop counting, didn't dare disobey your command. He knew that he had to see this through, had to prove to you that he could handle whatever you threw at him.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

With the final slap, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had done it, had endured the punishment and counted each blow as you had instructed. He knew that he

Scott's body trembled as the last slap landed, the pain coursing through him like a wildfire. He wanted to collapse, to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. But he knew that he couldn't, that he had to stay strong, to show you that he could handle whatever you threw at him.

As he lay there, his face pressed against the mattress, he could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, the saltiness stinging his eyes. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, but he also felt a sense of relief, a sense of accomplishment. He had done what you asked, had counted each slap, and had proven his devotion to you.

"Mmmph," he whimpered, his voice raw and hoarse from the gag. He knew that the punishment was over, that he had been forgiven, but he still couldn't help the way his body shook, the way his heart raced.

He could feel your presence beside him, could sense the warmth of your body, the tenderness in your touch. And as you gently stroked his hair, he felt a wave of love wash over him, a love so deep and profound that it brought him to tears once more. "You’re so…beautiful, all dolled up for me. Pretty little thing." You whispered, caressing his curls.

In that moment, he knew that he would do anything for you, that he would endure any punishment, any pain, just to feel this way, to know that he was loved, cherished, and protected.

Scott's body relaxed as you unclasped the spreading bar and removed the cuffs from his wrists. The sudden freedom was overwhelming, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He knew that the punishment was over, that he had been forgiven, and he couldn't help but melt into your embrace as you cradled him in your arms. The blindfold went out too, but he chose to keep his eyes closed.

He whimpered, his voice soft and vulnerable as you stroked his hair and hummed softly. He could feel the love and tenderness in your touch, could sense the affection in your words. And as you called him a sweetheart, praised him for his obedience, he felt a sense of pride swell within him.

He had done it, had endured the pain, the humiliation, and the fear, all for the sake of your love. And now, as he lay in your arms, feeling your warmth and protection envelop him, he knew that it had all been worth it.

As you continued to stroke his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp, he felt his eyes growing heavy. The exhaustion of the past few hours was catching up with him, and he could feel himself drifting off to sleep, safe and secure in your embrace.

Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard your voice, soft and soothing as you praised him for his beauty. "Shhh, sweet girl, you were so good, so good for me. Oh, you're such a sweetheart. Look at you, all pretty."

You took a pink dildo and a little one with a jewel. "You deserve a reward sweet girl. Choose one to go inside." You purred.

Scott's eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice, his gaze falling upon the two dildos you held in your hands. He couldn't believe that after everything he had endured, you were offering him a reward, a chance to find pleasure in the midst of his pain.

He looked from one dildo to the other, trying to decide which one he wanted. The pink one was larger, thicker, and he knew that it would stretch him in ways he had never experienced before. The other, with its sparkling jewel, was smaller and more delicate, but no less enticing.

"Mmmph," he whimpered, his voice muffled by the gag. He wanted to ask for your guidance, to let you choose for him, but he also knew that this was his reward, his moment to assert his desires.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he reached out and took the pink dildo, his fingers wrapping around the smooth, silicone shaft. It was heavier than he had expected, and he could feel the weight of it in his hand, the promise of the pleasure it would bring.

He looked up at you, his eyes wide and pleading, silently asking for permission, for your approval. He needed to know that he had made the right choice, that he was still worthy of your love and affection.

As you smiled down at him, nodding your approval, he felt a surge of excitement course through his body. He was ready for this, ready to experience the pleasure that only you could give him.

He laid back on the bed, his legs falling open in an invitation, a silent plea for you to take control, to guide him through this new experience. He trusted you, believed in you, and he knew that you would make this moment unforgettable.

With the gag still in place, he could only whimper and moan, his body already trembling with anticipation. He was yours, completely and utterly, and he was ready to embrace the pleasure that awaited him.

"Mmmph," he moaned, his voice a desperate plea for more. He wanted to feel you inside him, to be filled and stretched and claimed by you. He wanted to feel safe, to be your little girl. You stroked his ass. "On all fours, ass up, sweetheart."

Scott's body trembled with anticipation as he heard your command, his heart racing at the thought of what was to come. He wanted to please you, to show you just how obedient he could be, and he knew that this was his chance to prove himself.

With a soft whimper, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, presenting his ass to you as you had requested. The cool air on his exposed skin made him shiver, and he could feel his hole clenching in anticipation.

He heard you move behind him, could sense your presence, and he waited, breath bated, for your touch. When your fingers finally brushed against his entrance, he let out a soft moan, his body arching into your hand, desperate for more.

You teased him, your fingers circling his hole, applying just enough pressure to make him squirm. He could feel his arousal growing, his cock twitching and hardening as you worked him over. He wanted to beg you for more, to demand that you fill him, but he knew that he had to be patient, to wait for your signal.

And then, just as he thought he couldn't take anymore, he felt the dildo pressing against his entrance. He braced himself, his muscles tensing, as you slowly pushed the toy inside him. The stretch was intense, but not painful, and he could feel every inch of the dildo as it slid deeper into his body.

"Mmmph," he moaned, his voice muffled by the gag. He could feel the weight of the toy inside him, the way it filled and stretched him, and he knew that he was exactly where he belonged.

As you began to move the dildo in and out, he could feel his body adjusting to the sensation, his walls clenching and relaxing around the toy. He loved the way it felt, the way it made him feel so full and complete.

He looked back at you over his shoulder, his eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for more. He wanted to be used, to be taken, to feel your dominance over him. And as you continued to fuck him with the dildo, he knew that he was getting exactly what he wanted, exactly what he needed.

You unfastened the gag. "Here, you can whimper and moan all you want, sweet girl." You smoothed his stockings and strapped the sleek black vibrator on his cute little leaking cock. "Now, just enjoy little one." 

Scott gasped as the gag was removed, his mouth suddenly free to express all the whines and moans that had been building up inside him. He couldn't contain himself, letting out a series of high-pitched chirps and whimpers as you stroked his stockinged legs, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

"Ahhh! Mmmph! Ohhh!" he cried out, his voice raspy and needy. The vibrations from the toy against his sensitive cock only heightened his pleasure, making him squirm and writhe under your touch.

He felt so vulnerable, so exposed, with the dildo buried deep inside him and the vibrator buzzing against his most intimate parts. But instead of feeling ashamed, he reveled in it - in being your plaything, your little girl to use and pleasure as you saw fit.

"Please, Miss! More, more!" Scott begged shamelessly, too far gone to care about his pride. "I need it, I need you!"

His hips bucked involuntarily, trying to grind against the vibrator. The dual sensations of fullness and stimulation were driving him crazy, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

"Ahhh! I'm... I'm gonna..." Scott panted, his face flushed and eyes rolling back. He was so close, teetering right on the brink of a mind-blowing climax.

But he hesitated, remembering his place. He couldn't cum without your permission.

"Please Miss, can I? Can I cum for you?" Scott whined desperately, looking back at you with big, pleading eyes. "I wanna be a good girl!"

"Do you, really ? Are you a good girl ? Develop your answer, sweetheart, I want a whole fucking essay." You stroked his white inner thighs. 

Scott whimpered and squirmed under your touch, the sensation of your fingers gliding along his frilly stockings making his skin tingle with need. He wanted to be a good girl, wanted to please you in every way possible, but the temptation to let go and give in to the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

"Y-yes, Miss," he stammered, his voice breathy and high-pitched. "I want to be your good girl. I want to make you proud."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right words to express the depth of his desire. "I know I've been bad, I know I've disobeyed you and caused trouble. But I'm trying, Miss. I'm trying so hard to be better, to be the perfect little girl you deserve."

Scott's hips twitched, the vibrator against his cock making it difficult to focus. But he pushed through the haze of pleasure, determined to prove himself to you.

"I want to be good for you, Miss," he continued, his voice growing stronger, more resolute. "I want to follow your rules, to do as I'm told, to make you happy. I know I'm not there yet, but I'm working on it. Every day, I'm trying to be the best version of myself, the version that deserves your love and affection."

He looked back at you, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Please, Miss. Tell me what I need to do to be your good girl. I'll do anything, endure anything, as long as it means I can please you. I just want to make you proud, to be the perfect little girl you see in me."

Scott's body trembled with the effort of holding back his orgasm, the vibrator pushing him to the brink. But he knew that he couldn't cum until he had your permission, until he had proven himself worthy of such a gift.

"I'm trying, Miss," he whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm trying so hard. Please, tell me I'm doing okay. Tell me I'm being a good girl."

You couldn’t resist how cute he was being. "Shh you’re a good girl. You can cum, sweet thing." You cooed kissing all over his face.

Scott felt a wave of relief wash over him as you praised him, your words like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. He knew that he had done well, that he had pleased you, and the knowledge filled him with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

And then, when you gave him permission to cum, his body responded instantly. The coil of tension that had been building inside him for so long finally snapped, and he felt a rush of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

"Ahhh! Oh god, Miss!" Scott cried out, his voice high and breathy as the orgasm crashed over him. His cock twitched and pulsed, the vibrator sending shockwaves of ecstasy through his entire body.

He could feel his cum spilling out onto the sheets, his hips jerking and twitching with each wave of pleasure. It seemed to go on forever, his body trembling and shaking as he rode out the most intense orgasm of his life.

Through it all, he could feel your lips on his face, your kisses soft and gentle, a contrast to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. He knew that he was safe, that he was loved, and that he was exactly where he belonged.

As the orgasm finally began to subside, Scott collapsed forward onto the bed, his body limp and spent. He could feel your arms around him, holding him close, and he knew that he was home.

"Thank you, Miss," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Thank you for everything I’m sorry for being a brat earlier."

He knew that he would never be able to repay you for all that you had done for him, for all the love and care you had shown him. But he also knew that he would spend the rest of his life trying, that he would do anything and everything to make you happy.

Because that's what good girls do. That's what he was, and always would be - your perfect little girl, your devoted and loyal companion, ready and willing to serve you in any way you desired.

[giamee]

🏵️ ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ blade x poledancer!reader

request ؛ ଓ @/anon i am on my KNEES for a drabble or fic of fem or gn reader seducing blade. take full creative liberty just PLEASE

gia's notes ؛ ଓ ok this officially marks the start of my blade x the weeknd extended universe. anon thank u for this JUICY juicy prompt <3 i hope that i did it justice

word count ؛ ଓ 1.0k ( + suggestive content but nothing explicit, really unsexy description of a pole routine from yours truly, no pronouns but reader is wearing a skirt, HIGH heels and thigh garter :p )

THERE'S A NEW FACE HERE TONIGHT. near the back, dark hair and dark eyes scanning the room rather than remaining transfixed on you. that's not something you see every day. it's not just that, but it's all of his body language that makes you think that he's here for other reasons than to watch a show and maybe heckle you in hopes of getting lucky later. he's got his arms crossed against his broad chest, positioned oh so carefully to be able to survey as much of the room as possible.

you wonder who, or what exactly he's looking for as you keep doing your routine. it's a shame, you think. you'd much rather have his attention than the drunken faces hooting and hollering at you, trying to catch a glimpse up your skirt as you do a spin around the pole.

no, he's more... refined. there's an element of self-restraint to him that you rarely see here, and though it really isn't a high bar, it still draws your attention.

you wish that he would step into the light a little more. you could make out his features, just barely thanks to him being so far away and the dim lighting of the club. from what you could tell, he was handsome, all dark and brooding and serious. just your type.

here's the part where you have to focus. you tear your gaze away from the mystery man, rather regrettably, instead fixing your grip on the pole, pulling yourself off of the ground and letting your legs fan upwards as your world tilts on its axis and you're now spinning whilst upside down.

the clamoring crowd at your feet goes crazy, hooting and hollering like they always did. it was a tired routine but they were always impressed nonetheless, if the amount of bills flying at you was anything to go off of. and amidst the chaos of it all, your eyes still manage to travel past them all and meet the ruby eyes of the man stood against the back wall.

he wasn't just letting his gaze wander this time, either. he was really looking at you, all of his attention focused on your movements. a little thrill ran down your spine at this revelation, the connection between the two of you remaining unbroken even as you dismounted as the song ends.

your wish came true. his interest had been piqued.

while he may not be at your feet cheering, you still recognised that look in his eyes that he gave you. the one of lust, an underlying hunger that blazed deep and clawed its way to the surface. it draws you in, keeping you pinned in place even as you danced, and suddenly he was the only person that mattered within this entire building. suddenly, he was the only person that you were performing for.

the next song started playing, a slower one that relied more on sensuality than feats of acrobatic strength. good.

you let your fingers trail along the pole as you take sultry steps around it, finally letting your hands curl around it as you bend low, edge of your skirt brushing against the ground despite the tall heels that you wore. you roll your body upwards again, letting yourself grind against the pole, the hollering crowd distant as your gaze remains locked on him.

at the way his throat bobs as he watches your movements. the way he shifts in place as the room's temperature now feels a couple degrees higher. the way his eyes still meet yours so steadfastly.

you've definitely got his attention now.

you turn, back to the pole as you squat down again, letting your spine arch forwards as your chest meets the floor, hips remaining high. he watches you, hungrily, and you feel that electric stare of his in your core now. at this rate, you'd be leaving the pole wet.

you wouldn't mind letting him get lucky later.

and by the looks of it, he wouldn't hesitate to take you up on any offer you made him.

you're back on the pole now, just a simple pose as you do a spin first, before tucking your leg around the metal for stability and lifting off of the ground again.

more cheers from insignificant men, but what you pay attention to is how the man has pushed off from the wall now, stood up straight all while still watching you.

it gave you a little headrush seeing in real time the effect that you held over him, and you recognised the last chorus of the song, signalling that your time was almost up.

an idea pops into your head, one that deviates slightly from your regular routine.

you turn your back to the audience, glancing over your shoulder seductively as you slowly bend down, fingers trailing past the hem of your short skirt and finally hooking onto the garter you wear on your thigh.

there's cheers at your pseudo striptease, with the way you shimmy your hips more than necessary as you unclip it tantalisingly slow, letting the flimsy fabric slide down your leg until it pools on the floor.

you step out of it, another display of your ass as you bend down to pick it up, finally turning to face the audience with a grin as you twirl it around your finger.

there's men clamouring at your feet, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at their behaviour in favour of scanning the back of the crowd for him. he's there, still watching you with an imperceptible smirk at your little show.

you hoped he realised that it was just for him.

you recognised the closing notes of the song, deciding to make your exit with one final signal to the mystery man of what exactly your intentions were. you throw the garter, hoping there was enough weight to it to travel far enough to not land in the wrong hands, and that it would sail past heads before landing squarely in the man's palms.

you turn and leave before you see it happen, but when you throw back a last cursory glance, judging by his grinning face amidst a sea of disgruntled ones, you had hit your target.

you wink and blow him a kiss before disappearing offstage. your name was on the door, anyway. it wouldn't be too hard to find you.

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... fade into you

hsr men as your soulmate, and the marks you left on them in a past life

alternatively, you can find my hsr masterlist here! ୨ৎ

[pedrospatch]

wip wednesday

thank you for the tags angels 🤍 @mrsmando @honeyedmiller @mermaidgirl30 @gasolinerainbowpuddles @thelightsandtheroses

here are snippets of some of the many wips i am actively working on. or trying to anyway.

the gold room - dbf!joel x stripper!reader

“Jesus Christ.” Joel stares at you, using every last ounce of strength he has in his entire body not to let his gaze wander past your chin. He’s trying not to look at the way your skintight, neon pink dress hugs every soft, heavenly curve of your body, how the matching rhinestone garter shimmers around your deliciously plush thigh. “Is it even legal for you to be fuckin’ workin’ here?” Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and shift your weight from one seven inch heel to the other.  “You can dance at eighteen,” you inform him. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m twenty one, Mr. Miller. So with all due respect, chill the fuck out, okay?” “You went to college—“ “College is fucking expensive,” you interject with a shrug. “The job market is shit and I don’t plan on drowning in my student debt for the next ten years. Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Don’t stand there and judge me. Don’t act like what I do is so terrible when you have been paying good fucking money for girls like me to dance for you and sit in your lap all night long.” “That’s fuckin’ different. None of those girls are my best friend’s daughter.”

flutter - post outbreak! joel x pregnant!reader

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the stove, you crack a couple eggs into another, knowing the kid was on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast. “Morning!” Ellie pipes, the plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you. “Ellie,” you warn, walking over to the table. “Don’t—” “You’re bigger!” With a playful glare, you set her plate down along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks, you little jerk,” you say, feigning offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.” “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she starts to sputter. “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach—you didn’t look like this yesterday. You look great, just different.” She’s lucky your raging hormones decided to take the morning off.

chapter 10 for a safe haven

*this is just a short short snippet because it’s being heavily edited rn so i can post it soon!

He peels off his clothes, being careful not to further agitate his sore, inured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you sitting in bed under the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home.”

np tags! 🤍 @sugarcoated-lame @ozarkthedog @amanitacowboy @sp00kymulderr @ilovepedro @ezrasbirdie and anyone else who’d like to share their wips!

[bonny-kookoo]

Does cherry jk and Mc go further than just analyzing her tattoo? 🥴

A/N: Obv warning for NSFW. set right after the last drabble, it's basically a continuation of it.

He's torturing you. This is legitimate torture, and you're not sure if you'll survive this- and if you do, you'll probably die later because if he's already getting you to a point like this from simple touch alone, what else is he capable of?

Maybe it's the fact that you got a major crush on him that's making you more sensitive to things like this. Or maybe you've just never been treated like this.

He seems truly enamored by your body, most of all your tits that he's currently occupying himself with, lips and tongue combining with his hands, never staying in one place too long. You never really thought about a situation like this- typically, in the past, your chest had been nothing but aesthetics to past partners, something to maybe grab on during the act, but never really anything of importance.

Never something to focus on. Sex isn't about that- or at least it wasn't, back then, and it makes you wonder. What exactly does Jungkook get out of this himself?

But you fail to really concentrate on that topic, as he suddenly puts his teeth into the mix, gently biting one of your by now horribly sensitive buds to pull and let go, chuckling when your back arches off the couch. He's licking, kissing, now even biting- and you're by now convinced that you are one of those who can indeed cum from just this.

Maybe? Or maybe not? You're unsure, and you're also getting impatient. Your underwear must be soaking by now, thighs rubbing together unashamed. He's already sucking on your tits- there's really nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Wanna eat you out." He breathes over your chest, hands still fondling your soft flesh, and you whine.

"Please..!" You ask, because at this point, you can't take it anymore.

"Do you have a hairtie or something?" Jungkook wonders up at you at this invitation of yours, leaning up again to collect his hair with his hands.

"Uhm.. here?" You wonder, offering your wrist where a simple black elastic is resting around, one he takes with a grin, tying his hair back. You're not sure why exactly, his fingers brushing all of his hair back to collect as much of it as possible, getting most of it out of his face.

"Thanks." He grins, before he moves back to push down your shorts to let them fall down this time, hands moving over your thighs. "Hm.. what if we put some ink on those too?" He purrs, palms moving in between them before he changes his mind, leaving your fluffy overknees on after struggling a bit with the straps holding them up, which are connected to a lace garter belt. "Really pretty by the way. You like lingery?" He wonders casually, finally figuring out how to unhook the straps from your socks to be able to remove your panties, and you nod.

""I.. like to feel pretty.." You admit a bit quietly, and he smiles brightly at that, pulling down your underwear- and for a second you're confused why he stuffs your panties in the pocket of his sweatpants, but you don't get to question it for long, as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, body leaning down to dive in.

You don't care how he seems to know so well how to use his tongue and mouth- all that you do care about is that you're way too worked up to last very long.

Especially when his fingers join in and push inside you, you can't help but curl your toes as you summon all of your strength as to not push your legs closed. What you don't have any control over is the way your hips move- but it doesn't seem to bother him much, as he starts to suck, one drawn out lick with the flatness of his tongue enough to suddenly make you come undone.

His face leaves your core, but the heel of his hand gently helps you ride out your high, fingers leaving you after, the way you clenched around the digits giving him ideas for future endeavors-

and also enough material to make up scenarios in his head for days.

You can see him adjust himself in his pants a little, tent fairly evident- and you're not sure what you think of it. He's not asking for it- but isn't it something you should do?

Maybe the main reason you want to is both curiosity, and the fact that he doesn't immediately demand anything in return. He's nice.

You like him.

And you also want to see him- all of him.

"Hm?" He asks, wiping his mouth with his hand, before you sit up, cringing a bit at the wetness between your thighs. You slowly look down at him, gaze focusing on his obvious boner, and he chuckles. "Wanna see? We don't have to do anything, I can just rub one out later in the shower, no worries." He casually says, but you shake your head.

"I want to do something." You say. "But.. I might not be good at it?" You worry, and he laughs.

"Practice makes perfect." He shrugs. "If you wanna, you can." Jungkook offers, moving down his pants before he pulls himself out of his underwear.

Everything he does is always so.. normal. As if this is nothing special at all- but in a good way. There's no pressure to make things as perfect as possible. It's comfortable.

When you touch him, he hisses a bit, even his dick twitching a bit, as if startled. "Sorry- your hands are cold." He laughs, and you giggle along.

"Sorry." You apologize as well, moving around to see what makes him feel good. It's not like you've never given a handjob in your life- but this time you actually don't feel like you have to, and it's making you wonder how you can offer him the same as you've received.

But your next move surprises even yourself, because this, you haven't done before.

You lean down to take his tip into your mouth, causing a faint 'oh god' to breathe past his lips above you, hand finding your head as you circle your tongue over the head, feeling the rest of him twitch on occasion. You fail to really take him and deeper, so you instead let go of his cock to spit in your hand, unsure how else really to make movement any more comfortable for the both of you.

He groans at that. It sounds almost pained.

Hopefully your hands are now warm enough as you move, lick and suck, trying to judge from the way his balls seem to tighten in your palm how close he might be-

When his hand pushes a little, fingers digging into your hair to grab tightly, head and upper body leaning back on his unoccupied hand keeping him somewhat upright as he cums, thick seed filling your mouth in several spurts.

He breathes loudly, before he lets go of your head, surprised face clearly showing a hint of worry as he inspects you, thinking he might've hurt you as you cringe a bit. His hands hold your cheeks, eyes darting around to judge if he's been a bit too rough with that push, when you look at him.

"It's bitter." You complain, and he laughs in relief, resting his forehead against yours, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

"God you're cute!"

[jintaka-hane]

Laundry in Kuraigana (x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x f!reader Summary: Living in Kuraigana comes with its own set of rules, and with a master as inflexible as Mihawk, they must be strictly adhered to. Frustrated by his lack of attention, you craft a plan to exact revenge through household chores. Word count: 600

Circumstances have brought you to call Kuraigana your home. And it appears you'll be staying there for quite some time until the situation you've found yourself in is resolved.

It's been three months since you arrived and during this time, Mihawk has set up rules and a household routine, creating a semblance of family life with his apprentice swordsman, the ghost girl, and yourself.

Mihawk doesn't employ domestic staff in the castle, it would compromise his privacy, tranquility and security (already quite compromised considering the castle's new occupants). Therefore, you must organize yourselves very strictly following a schedule of tasks that he has assigned to each of you.

Everything must be neat and tidy, nothing can be left for the next day, and unnecessary items must be discarded to avoid clutter.

Like everyone else, he must also contribute to maintaining the castle: the garden, the orchard, meal planning, cleaning the rooms, washing the dishes and cutlery... and doing the laundry.

Laundry is done three times a week. Once with black clothes, another with colored clothes, and another with white and light-colored clothes. Mihawk will not tolerate, under any circumstances, mixing colors or washing delicate fabrics like silk in a non-gentle cycle. Everything must be carefully planned and each week it's someone's turn, expected to separate the clothes by color, select the appropriate wash cycle, hang the clothes, and fold them, dividing them into four different piles, one for each owner. Each person will collect their own pile, clean and dry.

A few weeks after arriving at Kuraigana, you realized that you were starting to feel attracted to the castle's master. His fierce appearance and strength in combat contrasted with the delicacy and perfection with which he organized something as mundane as household chores.

Without daring to confess your attraction, you have been trying to be subtle, taking small steps like lightly brushing fingers when passing the salt, trying to hold his gaze for a few seconds longer than usual when you spoke, or making comments that you thought he might find amusing or intellectual. Nothing seems to work, always so serious, so stoic, completely focused on whatever task he was doing. It is hard to get his attention. Very hard.

For this reason, you begin to feel frustrated. Is this man simply too difficult? Or are you not attractive enough? In any case, this frustration turns into anger... until you devise a plan to teach him a lesson and get revenge.

Knowing that it is his turn to do the laundry this week, you select your most scandalous and provocative lingerie to place in the laundry basket.

And, to be honest, you have quite a collection.

So, you choose shameless bras of several colors and transparencies, daring black stockings and garters, suggestive thongs, and exciting lace bodysuits. If this man isn't willing to pay attention to you, he will realize what he could have had and didn't. The opportunity he missed.

Throughout the week, you watch as your clothes appear hanging in the sun in the garden, alongside those of Mihawk, Zoro, and Perona. Thus, next to a pair of training pants, a simple white shirt and some socks, there is a sultry red lace bodysuit with transparencies.

As your clothes dry, they appear in your pile carefully folded, smelling clean and ready for you to pick up.

"Don't you think Mihawk is more grumpy than usual?" Perona asks one night, watching as Mihawk tries to concentrate on reading a newspaper, with a furrowed brow.

"Grumpy and... distracted?" Zoro adds, also observing him from afar.

"Yeah? I wonder why," you smile.

-> Alternative ending I -> Alternative ending II

[salamifuposey]

would you trust someone like Garter popping all a sudden right in front of you?

based on a scene from very early in the beginning in Orange Juice's Chapter 1, Lemmy, after having departed from a spot where he was along talking with Jayt, as he was making sure he had all his belongings, suddenly felt a strange presence~ *thinking almond noises*

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 16

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Kate: …Nn…Where is this?

I regained consciousness on the cold floor.

(That’s right…I ended up smelling something that came from behind me…)

(is this…a warehouse…somewhere?)

My head still felt heavy as I raised it, and stood up.

(I’m not tied up…)

I sighed in relief, but then—

Kate: …!

When I sensed a presence, I turned around and saw a boy and girl looking pale and trembling.

(Who are these kids?)

(...Could it be that—)

~~ Flashback ~~

Barkeep: These days you hear a lot of young men and women get attacked or go missing.

--

Liam: Lately, young people have been getting attacked or going missing.

Ellis: Do you mean the incidents Victor and Will are investigating?

~~ End flashback ~~

(...Did I end up getting involved in the incident?)

While I sat there in surprise, I suddenly heard footsteps from the darkness.

Man in a black hood: Looks like you’re all awake.

One, two, three, four men with black hoods over their eyes appeared.

(These were the criminals who attacked me…)

They each held either a gun or a knife.

(I thought I was glad that I wasn’t tied up…How naive)

The fact that I had such freedom meant that there was no way you’d get away.

Depending on what they do, my life could be taken instantly.

I went pale with fear and fell to my knees.

(Calm down…I’m a fairytale keeper trained by Roger)

(Out of everyone here, I’m the one most familiar with “evil”)

I felt for the gun strapped to my garter belt. Luckily that wasn’t taken away.

(Everyone should soon realize that I’ve disappeared)

And then Crown…Roger will come save me.

The evil Crown was the best group you could have as your ally.

(Besides, Crown’s been following this case)

(If they thought that saving me would help solve this case, then they’d be on it now)

I just had to wait.

(...I’ll need to buy some time)

(Or else…the kids and I—)

A shiver ran down my spine when it felt like the Grim Reaper was drawing near. I mustered up all my strength and stood in front of kids to protect them.

Kate: …Why are you doing this?

Man in a black hood: I don’t see a point in explaining ourselves to someone who’s about to die.

(“Someone who’s about to die”...)

Meaning they plan to kill us in the end.

(We’re not being held for ransom)

(They kidnap random youths)

(But…why would they kill all these people?)

I didn’t understand their intentions.

That made me anxious, and after putting all that effort into standing, my legs started shaking.

Look for a chance to escape

Beg for your life

Provoke him +4 +4

Kate: …It’s not like you’re going to let us run. If we’re waiting to die, then wouldn’t it be nice to have something to take with us to the afterlife? But if you can’t even give us that…then do what you want.

A look of annoyance crossed his face and he gulped audibly.

But the provocation did its job and the hooded man started to talk with an air of confidence.

Man in a black hood: In this world, there’s a thing called “being useless”. Withered flowers, abandoned buildings, dead people. However, there are some people who find value in these.

Kate: There are people who value us even after we die?

(I think…Roger and I had a conversation like this before)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Roger, what’s this law written here in “Dissection Laws”?

Roger: As you know, medicine’s advancing pretty rapidly in England. With that comes a lot of dissections performed by doctors and researchers. Now here’s a question. What do you think the problem with this is?

Kate: …They run out of specimens to perform dissections on?

Roger: Correct. So then people go and collect human specimens however they can.

Kate: Ah, I’ve heard of people who dig up graves to steal corpses.

Roger: That’s why the “Dissection Law” was established to prevent that and ensure cadavers were acquired legally.

~~ End flashback ~~

(...Being regulated by law increases the shortage of human specimens)

That’s why they were killing young people.

Not for ransom.

But the corpses had value.

With this, I came to a conclusion—

Kate: Are you all doctors or researchers who need human specimens?

Man in a black hood: Oh? You’re clever…Who are you?

Kate: I don’t have a name to share.

Man in a black hood: Hmm, cheeky. You’re not entirely wrong, but… Let’s stop chatting. My client wants silent offerings.

The hooded man took something out.

What reflected the dim light dully was—

(A knife…)

--

Roger: This is supposed to be the base, but there’s nothing here…Did we get it wrong?

When they entered, the warehouse was only filled with silence and the smell of dust.

Nica: It’s too early to give up, no? These places tend to have dummies. Like hidden passageways or hidden doors.

Roger held up a finger to stop him from talking.

Roger: …I can “hear” something. There are people in the basement.

Nica: Oh, so that’s abnormal hearing. I thought it had its limitations, but it’s pretty useful.

Ale: Arf arf.

Jude: The dumb dog found somethin’.

Picking up Ale who was sniffing around a wooden crate and moving said crate out of the way revealed—

Roger: A hidden passageway.

Nica: See, I knew it. That means you’re likely right.

They descended into the hidden passageway.

At the base of the stairs, a lone candle casted a shadow on the wall.

Roger: There’s no hiding spots though. Guess we’ll have to get out.

After they emerged, someone saw the shadows their shadows on the wall.

Man with mouth covered: …Who’s there!

10 men appeared, all with their faces covered by cloth.

Jude: Oi, quack. Keep goin’. Princess will be dead if ya don’t hurry.

Roger: …Jude

Jude: Huh? What’s with that face? It’s on your conscience if she dies. Go.

Roger: Sorry. I’ll waive your medical bill. Don’t die, Jude.

With that, Roger ran into the darkness.

Man with mouth covered: Hey, one’s running away. After him!.

The once quiet underground  space turned into a warzone full of angry shouts.

Nica: Oh, I caught something good. You might look mean, but you’re a quite the compassionate fellow aren’t you?

Jude: Don’t think ya got time to chat when you’re gettin’ attacked from behind.

Man with mouth covered: …Die!

Nica: …

Less than a second after noticing the shadow on a ceiling, a gunshot rang out from Nica’s hand.

He killed his target with precision without even looking.

Nica: Unfortunately, I’m not easy to kill. You chose the wrong people to fight.

Man with eyes covered: …Shit, I thought I had you…Gah.

Jude broke the man’s jaw with the tip of his shoe.

Jude: Shaddup.

Jude: …Who the hell are ya.

Cobalt blue eyes smiled at the cold gaze.

Nica: Nica Schwartz, a member of the German Empire’s Vogel. It’s cruel that you’ve forgotten after I’ve already introduced myself. I have a glass heart you know.

Jude: I’m not imaginin’ things when I say you’re too experienced for a mere lapdog. How’d you know ‘bout his abnormal hearin’?

Nica: Don’t worry, I know about you too. Jude Jazza, the president of a trading company. A company that deals in materials and food that don’t often face changes in demand, as well as luxury items and jewelry… You’re also skilled in handling what’s trending in the market. Having a diverse range of products limits risk, so you must be making a lot of money. …Want me to keep going?

Jude: Tch, all that snoopin’s makes me sick.

Nica: You need to know someone to get along with them. Don’t you think we’d get along, Mr. President?

Nica smiled suggestively. Then, multiple footsteps approached.

It appeared that the mens’ colleagues noticed that something unusual happened in the basement and assembled.

Nica: It’s rude to interrupt when I’m trying to solicit* someone. Let’s finish you off quickly.

Jude: Careful I don’t kick you by accident, Vogel lech.

Nica: That’s my line.

--

Meanwhile—The noises underground haven’t reached the warehouse where the kidnapped youths were being held.

Man in a black hood: Let’s stop chatting. My client wants silent offerings.

Kate: …

I gasped at the dull glint of the knife.

Man in a black hood: Ah, yes. You lot, make sure they only get one stab in the stomach. Our client wants the bodies as clean as possible…Ugh, drugging would’ve been easier.

Another man had warned the man with the knife out.

(There are 4 people…My gun has seven rounds. I can take them)

(However)

—Am I able to kill people?

Kidnapped girl: *sob* …No, I don’t want to die…

Kidnapped boy: Me too…Getting killed…In a place like this…

(...Don’t be scared, don’t hesitate)

(They need to be condemned for taking so many lives)

To not arouse suspicion, I slowly reached under my skirt and then pulled out my gun.

(Roger gave me this gun for self-defense)

(But…Now’s the time to use it)

I hated myself for being weak.

I felt frustrated and wanted to change, so I decided to get stronger by being with Roger.

(Roger would definitely kill them all)

An image of him shouldering the guilt while taking however many lives with his rifle popped up in my mind.

(That’s why, I—these people, kill evil)

I held my gun up and placed a finger on the trigger.

(...)

But my finger was shaking— 

Kate: Ah.

The bullet I resolved to fire went way off the mark and made a hole in the wall.

The hooded man turned at the sound and looked at me with my gun still aimed.

Man in a black hood: Pfft, hahahaha! You use a gun like a child playing with a toy.

Kate: Eek…

He grabbed my arm and took my gun away.

Man in a black hood: I’ll show you how you use a gun properly…When you want to kill someone.

Kate: …

The feeling of the barrel of the gun pressed against my temple was a firsthand lesson in the price of failure.

(Ah…Damn)

(So this is the end…)

The only sound I could hear was my own heartbeat, yet as I stared into the darkness, I wished that I could see Roger’s face one last time.

(Farewell, Roger…)

Letter | Next

-

*The word Nica uses can also mean flirt, hit on, make a pass at :3

[secretsecretbunny]

idk if you do drabble requests but I love your writing so much! you really have a way with words so i was wondering if maybe you'd do a drabble about new!idol fem reader (can be solo or group w/e) who really looks up to and admires BTS and they meet her before watching her perform for the first time? also maybe there's some flirting? (idc which members I'm ot7) just one of my lil day dreams I wanna get out there 🥺 anyway! keep writing, you're genuinely really good 🫶🏻

I do now!! This sounded too cute to pass up 💕

Title: "Run."

Genre: drabble, one-shot, casual??? fluff??? idk how to describe this one lmao. I hope you enjoy!

Notes: y/s/n = "your stage name". Things that are underlined are links to the outfits described.

Your nerves had you literally shaking with anticipation as you waited behind the scenes of the show. So many incredible talents were performing today and here you were, an unknown newbie who was about to take the stage in front of a live audience. Why did they even want you to debut at this big of an event in the first place? Your manager reassured you it was because they believed in your talent and knew that taking a chance on you and letting your first performance be somewhere as prestigious as this would draw in fans, who would appreciate the unique sound you bring to the table. In particular, if the responses of other idols who are more famous and well-known were captured on camera and shared with their fanbase through broadcasts or similar media channels.

The way they styled you had you feeling nervous as well, with a form-fitting pink mini skirt that hugged your curves and a white button up top that was tucked in with a black and pink tie, adding a touch of elegance to your look. The cropped black blazer and black gogo boots with heels made you feel like you were going to fall at any moment, but the white leather garter with a chain on one of your thighs added a bold touch to your outfit. You felt a little exposed but you took a moment to be silently appreciative of the safety shorts you wore beneath your skirt.

You had always dreamed of being part of a group, working together towards a common goal. That's why you were initially brought on as a trainee for the company in the first place. However, after careful consideration and evaluation of your skills and strengths, it was ultimately decided that your talents would be best utilized flying solo. But you deeply wished you had people to lean on, members who could offer support and distract from your potential mistakes. You tugged at your skirt awkwardly as you stood around waiting for your time to perform. You still had nearly 30 minutes but you were too nervous to sit, instead you opted for watching the screen positioned on the wall, showing the current performers on stage.

You smiled at the screen at the talent being shown. BTS. You had a deep admiration for the group and enjoyed watching them perform their song DNA. The members exuded confidence and comfort on stage, making it seem like they never worried about mistakes at this point in their career. You watched as they moved fluidly across the stage, perfectly in sync with one another. 

A close up of Jimin had you grinning like an idiot. God he was pretty. Fuck, they all were. Hoseok with his vibrant smile, Namjoon with his unique features and buff build, Yoongi and his piercing eyes, Taehyung sporting the flirtiest looks you had ever seen, Jungkook somehow looking both innocent and dangerously delicious, and Jin with his world wide handsome face. And even more than their looks, they were so incredibly talented and hardworking.

You had heard the detailed story of how they rose to the top, overcoming numerous challenges and obstacles along the way. Their journey was filled with both good and bad experiences, but through it all, they showed great dedication and strength. And here you were, you hadn't even had your first performance yet and you had been ready to give up multiple times just during your 4 years of being a trainee. Working for the same label as the musicians who inspired you to pursue music in the first place left you feeling both grateful and slightly out of place, as if you hadn't earned your spot there yet.

You completely dismissed those thoughts and made your way towards the snack and beverage area, specifically designated for idols and staff members. You were in dire need of water and something sweet to give you an energy boost. As the boys finished their performance, the booming cheers from the crowd echoed through the air. You froze in surprise when you heard the seven of them laughing and panting out of breath as they entered the same room you were in. You attempted to seem nonchalant as they eagerly grabbed water bottles and snacks for themselves, while you discreetly tucked your hair behind your ear and reached for a water bottle too, all the while listening intently as Jungkook and Hoseok laughed uncontrollably about some unknown joke or incident.

In their fit of laughter Jungkook backed up into you, making you stumble back a bit. He whipped around suddenly "shit, sorry!" he apologized with a small bow. "Kookie you've gotta be more careful!" came a voice from behind you. The voice placed a hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" As you turned your head, you caught sight of Jimin with a gentle smile on his face. You quickly nodded in response, your eyes wide, causing him to let out a soft chuckle. "Hey! We making new friends?" Came Hoseok's voice as he reached his hand out to you. "I'm Hoseok. Or Hobi, J-Hope, whatever's fine." he said. His signature smile was contagious, spreading warmth to the pit of your stomach as he spoke. You took his hand lightly, stifling a giggle. "I uh, I know who you are. I'm y/n. Or y/s/n. Whatever's fine." You mimicked with a warm smile. He laughed. "Nice to meet you, y/n!" His hand was warm, and making your head swim, prompting you to let go.

"Wait, y/s/n?" Yoongi asked, stepping into the conversation. "The new girl? You're debuting today, right?" As you glanced in his direction, your nervousness was evident in the rapid nodding of your head. "Mhmm! In uh.." you checked the time on your phone. "shit.. 15 minutes actually." You said, taking a shaky breath in. "Nervous?" came Taehyung's voice from behind Yoongi.

You were now the center of attention for the seven boys, who were anxiously anticipating your next words. "Incredibly so.." you replied, making them all smile at you. "Hey I'm sure you're going to do great!" Namjoon chimed in "yeah, you're going to sound amazing!" Said Jin. They all nodded as you laughed

"you guys have never even heard me sing, how would you know?" You asked with a playful lilt in your voice. "Well, you're beautiful, so I'm sure your voice matches." God. Jimin was just as flirty as people described him, with a playful smile and a wink that could light up the room. You rolled your eyes with a laugh. "Smooth, pretty boy." You chuckled out, making him smirk. Jungkook looked you up and down for a moment "Your outfit looks great, your stylists did an amazing job." You took a moment to examine your outfit, making sure every piece was in its place and smoothing out any wrinkles on your skirt.

"Thanks, I actually had to beg them to add black into the theme. They originally wanted me in all pink and white and that's just... really not my vibe." This had Hoseok raising a brow. "What's not your vibe? ...sweet and innocent?" He asked with a smirk and the tilt of his head.

For just an instant, your eyes flickered with something that looked almost like mischief before settling back into their usual serenity; however fleeting this transformation may have been, its impact left ripples. Luckily you were saved by staff running up to you. "Y/n you have 10 minutes! Please come get your hair and makeup touched up!" The girl sounded almost panicked. You gave her a sweet smile. "Be right there!" You said, putting your sweet and shy persona back on. "I should run. Thanks for the pep talk, boys!" you said with a small bow. "You got this!" Namjoon said as you turned to leave. Jin's voice stopped you "would it make you more or less nervous if we said we'll be watching?" You paused for a moment in thought. "Hmm, well, I think I'd be more motivated not to fall on my ass if I knew THE Bangtan was watching my every move." This made them smirk. "We'll have our eyes glued to you then." Hoseok said with a subtle wink, his voice low. "You better." You replied amorously as you walked away.

With you fully out of earshot now, the boys spoke. "she's cute as hell."  Jungkook said. "Hm, she acts cute, but I think she's a little darker than that." Hoseok laughed. "Her and Jimin have the same vibes" Taehyung said playfully. "Oh, so I'm cute AND sexy? Thanks Taetae." Jimin retorted playfully, making the man roll his eyes. "Alright guys keep it in your pants." Yoongi commented. "Right, let's just go watch her performance like we promised, yeah?" Namjoon stated as they headed towards the changing room to switch outfits before returning to the audience.

As you stepped onto the stage, your nerves seemed to vanish into thin air as you effortlessly slipped into your performance persona. The song you performed was sultry, sassy, and sensual. Your manager referred to it as 'the triple S.' You found that you fell into the role easier than you thought you would since you discovered that with how bright the stage's colorful lights were, you could barely even see the crowd, but you could feel their energy and passion.

As your performance was coming to a close, one of your backup dancers suddenly fell near your feet. Despite knowing you needed to continue with the choreography, it felt wrong to simply step around her and ignore her situation. So, you decided to help her up while still singing and dancing, offering a reassuring smile and squeezing her hand gently when she looked panicked. She quickly fell back into the routine and the rest of the performance went on without another issue. 

As soon as you left the stage, you were immediately ushered off to change into more appropriate clothing for sitting in the audience with the other idols who either weren't performing or had already finished their performances. A simple long black dress with two high slits on either side, though you still wore a leather garter with a chain, this time in black though. Your seat was just a row behind the bts boys, you gave a small bow and a smile as you passed them. Once you sat down, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook all turned around to give you a thumbs up or small claps, telling you that you had done a good job. Despite your best efforts you couldn't fight the bright smile that took over your features.

No more than 2 hours later you were at the after party being reprimanded by your manager for stopping mid performance to help your backup dancer. "You know you're supposed to keep going in instances like that!" She barked out. "I technically did keep going! I wasn't just going to ignore her while she was struggling!" You spat back with an eye roll, arms crossed over your chest. She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging in resignation.

However, before she could continue with whatever she was going to say, you abruptly turned and started walking away from her. Unfortunately for you though, your hasty retreat led you straight into the path of an oncoming person - or more specifically, their chest - resulting in a jarring impact that sent you stumbling backward several steps. "fuck! I mean, augh... sorry!" you bowed. "We're just always bumping into each other, huh? Now we're even." you looked up to see Jungkook with a couple of the boys not far behind. You let out a small laugh "I guess we are." as Hoseok walked up, he peeked around you for a moment, eyeing your manager as she huffed and stomped away.

"You get in trouble for something?" he asked. You nodded with another eye roll. "She's upset that I stopped to help my backup dancer when she fell." His eyebrows furrowed "she's mad at you for being a kind a decent human being?" You smiled "that's one way to put it I suppose." you replied. Jimin, hearing the conversation being had, pouted "I thought it made you look cool and likeable!" he said with a tilt of his head. You anxiously fiddled with your fingers, feeling a bit nervous. "Thanks guys, I appreciate it. I really hope it didn't ruin the performance." Hoseok shook his head. "Not at all! You were amazing up there!" Jungkook and Jimin nodded, agreeing. "Let me get you something to drink to get your mind off it, yeah?" He added. You smiled "sure, that'd be great."

As Jimin and Jungkook started mingling with the crowd, you and Hoseok headed towards the bar, located at the distant end of the room. The venue had arranged for an assortment of drinks to be served, and the bartender was busy filling orders.

He ordered you your drink of choice and something for himself as well. You two engaged in a casual conversation for nearly half an hour, exploring various topics and discovering shared interests such as music, movies, and hobbies. The ice in your second round of drinks had mostly melted, indicating they were nearing completion when he posed the question "you wanna get out of here?"

Halting your speech mid-sentence, you turned to face him with an inquiring gaze before your expression shifted into a sly grin that showed your true intentions. "Absolutely." You responded. He grinned widely as he grabbed your hand, his grip firm and confident, leading you towards the exit with purpose.

As you walked, he waved goodbye to his members, a gesture that seemed almost automatic. You spotted your manager heading towards you, her expression written in annoyance, causing your heart to race in anticipation. You gave Hoseok's hand a stern warning squeeze as your manager approached, making him raise an eyebrow at you in confusion. However, the mischievous grin spreading across your features told him everything he needed to know - you had no intention of being deterred by anyone.

"Run."

You said before pulling him into a dash towards the exit. You both burst into a fit of laughter as you rapidly made your way out of the building, the sound of your hurried footsteps on the hard floor growing fainter with each passing second until you were no longer in sight.

Tonight might be fun after all, you decided.

aaaa okay how was that? Thoughts? Critiques? Requests? Let me know what's up. Love you!! 🩷

[skele-bunny]

I am once again thinking about Phantom and him being shown more Quintessence culture by the elders...

CW - Heavy implications of abuse and slavery (but this is a fluff post! Also trauma healing for Phantom fr)

Bug has 0 fucking idea on his culture, only what he knows in his kithood and then learning from the others topside. He knows enough about their harmonies with the inner souls and connection to the astral. Phantom was taught by his captor about the importance of wind chimes and crystals, but beyond that? Nothing. No ceremonies, no basic breaking, nadda.

The Quintessence Ghouls enjoy getting together twice a month in the abbeys chapter house, and they go all out with it. It's clothing free but never sexual, just embracing their natural bodies and even their true forms. Ether ghouls even in the pits wore jewelry and body chains, they're decorative and very focused on the bodies.

Painting down multiple sigils around the room, with a giant one of protection on the floor where they meditate. Placing wind chimes near the windows and above the curtains, grounded amethyst near entrances and once again around the floor sigil. Candles lit around, incense sticks, and right in the middle being black tourmaline also in a powder form.

Phantom just sitting next to Swiss and Aether, trying to stop his laughter as they rub the tourmaline over his torso and back, then right down his forehead. He's lead by Aether on how to put it on him, whispering encouragements.

"Keep your attitude positive. When you place tourmaline on someone, your intentions matter. It's a double ended sword-- it can defend or it can put you as a target."

Since Phantom has too much trauma relating to chain bralettes and can't wear one, he's simply draped in a mesh cover, Aether weaving citrine into the cloth. He has a circlet resting against his forehead - Aether wearing a crown halo with shoulder and waist chains. Swiss only has a waist chain and garter on, but his horns are decorated with strings of chimes. Phantom is just in his unglamoured form while Aether's in his true, just fuzzy and silk at the same time. His horns are literally moving with galaxies, face still so gentle.

He's led in soft humming, then eventual prayer, how they intertwine hands and tails, moving side to side while they sit. How the sigils in the room start glowing and the room gets clouded in smoke.

He's shown to sit on his knees, hands on his lap and trying to push his essence forwards. He's... Not doing good at it. Swiss just places his hand on Phantom's back for that extra push and he's now in a projection. Sarra (1st era) is leading, calmly explaining to the group to eye their own bodies, remove their sigils of denial, cleanse themselves.

Phantom is just eyeing his body that's just covered in his Master's sigils. They're weak from the distance and how long he's been away, but it's just a sour reminder. Trying to reach out and pull it away. He's not strong with his magick so he's just left sitting there, staring at himself. He can see his physical body starting to cry, yet he isn't, but then a hand touches his shoulder in the astral. Looking over and seeing Enki (2nd era) just eyeing him.

"I could feel your distress, I'm sure the others can as well but I wanted to respond..." And now they're both looking at the sigils. "Such strong holds... Why don't we remove one together, yes? Then later, we'll stay with Sarra. He can remove a high majority of these."

Phantom just nods, and now Enki is directing him, slowly pulling at the weakest one. The mind. He's holding Phantom's hand as they start dragging the strings away, bundling it together until the very last one pulls away. Phantom pushing his hands together and smothering it, watching as it turns to stars and falls down into the void. Enki is just smiling the entire time, whispering strength into his ear while they start pulling at his hand binds.

"It always felt heavy to play or hold someone's hand... I never really understood why until now..." He's just mumbling, grabbing the strings again.

"With you being inexperienced, it's hard to understand when something is cast on you."

Stars again. Phantom just exhales, and is ready to go back in, thanking Enki with such genuine. He can see Aether and Swiss already back in their physicals, Aether holding his arm out for Phantom when he returns. For good reason, too! Phantom just completely falls forward, would've face planted if it wasn't for Aeth. He gathers himself before putting his tiny hand on Aether's giant, smiling as his hand doesn't feel heavy anymore. He takes Swiss and gives such a tight squeeze and the happiest expression.

There's mediation in between different sets, but Phantom's favorite of the entire session was the crystal exchange. Before the meeting, you were supposed to take one of the dearest crystals to you, and during the exchange you'd be led through the plane to exchange with someone who needed it most.

Phantom was led to a ghoulette he never met before, just smiling and tail wagging as he offered over his amazonite to her. She's just purring the entire time, thanking him and sharing scents before he goes back to his spot. Delta is one of three who offer theirs to Phantom. They're just purring as they hand over a tigers eye. Another ghoul he doesn't know offers a malachite, and then Sarra offers one too! It's so strange seeing this giant true form kneeling in front of this itty bitty ghoul, leaning down and speaking in ancient ghoulish that absolutely no one else knows. Sarra blessing his crystal before offering a handmade pendant of howlite.

Using his claws to carefully clip it on Phantom's wrist, moving to put his hand between his horns and continue mumbling in ancient. He's met with a tiny kiss on his forehead in the end.

After the ceremony, Enki leads Phantom to Sarra where he's now in a semi-glamour form. Aether deciding to stay just to accompany and it proves to be helpful! Settling Phantom in a pile of tourmaline as Aether, Sarra, Enki, and two others Phantom's seen in the infirmary before start slowly breaking sigils around and in him. With each sigil removed, Phantom feels lighter and lighter -- relaxed and at peace. Every now and then their hands will press against a certain spot, but Sarra has kept his hand right above his cervix the entire time.

"Whoever locked you was smart. This is my era of Magick." Sarra just mumbles, before he slowly twists his hand. "But still idiotic."

Phantom has a sudden extreme cramp before just as fast as it came, it leaves, and Sarra removes his hand. The last sigil gone. Aether is just smiling, carefully rubbing Phantom's cheek.

"How do you feel?"

He's quiet. Just slowly touching over his torso before he starts crying, being sat up and comforted. Just being sandwiched on all sides as he finally feels so... Free. There's no lingering touch, no magick restraining him. He's a bawling mess, crying his thanks over and over. Phantom is free.

[tofuxtea]

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑 | 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 + 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, lingerie, somnophilia, dark/extreme content, dub/non-con (consent was previously established tho!), diluc is distant bc of work and reader tries to distract him but it doesn’t work until after you fall asleep, basically pussydrunk diluc lol, bit of aftercare at end :)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — not proofread, ngl this shit awakened something in me LMFAOOO

diluc never had time for you anymore. at first, it wasn’t an issue — sad replies of “sorry, love, i don’t have time right now” to dinner plans or twenty minute delays to relaxing outings because of unexpected work at the winery. you understood. diluc was a busy man — a winery owner for god’s sake.

it wasn’t until the first time he stood you up because he’d forgotten about the reservations after work ran a little later than usual and the many mornings you woke up alone, and then went to sleep in the same fashion did it start to affect you. every time, he apologized until your ears nearly fell off and every time you reassured him it was alright.

he was busy. he had work. that was okay! he was doing this to provide for the both of you — and you knew he would never hurt you intentionally. all he needed was a break, even if it was just for the night. you would gladly give him that.

so you got to planning. with some help from lisa, you found a gorgeous lingerie set at a small shop she knew. a cherry red lace bra and panty set with matching thigh garters and a sheer slip to go overtop. you remembered how much diluc adored that red dress you wore to your first date and you knew he would love this.

now you had to wait for him to get home. this time around, the winery was beginning to cool down with shipments, so diluc was granted the ability to work from home at night. tonight, he came home just as the sun was setting and you expected him to head right up to bed, but you came down a half an hour later to find him shut inside his study.

you had the set on already, clutching your fluffy white robe around yourself in case he had a servant out and about downstairs. he didn’t hear you open the door, nor did he spare you a glance when you sweetly greeted him. “i’ll come to bed in a bit, okay? don’t wait up for me if you’re too tired, love.” he’d said, and that was all you got from him. he mumbled something about ‘a few more orders to situate’ before you finally shut the door and trudged back upstairs, defeat weighing down your shoulders.

even an hour later, there was no sign of him retiring to bed any time soon. so you curled up under the duvet, unable to find the strength to take the set off, and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

diluc carefully opened the door late into the night, peering inside to find you in a tiny heap on your side of the bed. the steady rise and fall of your body told him you were asleep. he sighed, suddenly aware of how long he’d been downstairs. he settled onto his side, beginning to unbutton his dress shirt to prepare for bed, and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple when he caught a glimpse of a bright red garment lazily hidden by the covers.

curiously, he nudged the duvet down to your elbows and the air was torn out of his lungs. red, elastic straps nestled into your skin, lace adorning your sleeping body so beautifully. any sane part of him would immediately cover you up and curse himself for even daring to invade your privacy, but the tired, overworked half of his mind couldn’t stop staring. it wondered what it felt like, what your skin felt like.

shit. there was a vicious battle in his head as his hand hovered over your bare arm. for now, there was a clear winner. diluc gently rubbed your arm, easing you onto your back to admire the set. it molded perfectly to your body — your breasts, your hips, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. his breath came out in staggers like he’d been presented a feast.

no. his rationale began to push through the sea of hunger that made his fingers tremble and he paused. while you had fully established that you were okay with and actually welcomed situations like this, diluc wanted you to be awake for this. he’d neglected you for so long, you deserved to feel every bit of this.

no.

screw that. diluc clumsily climbed over your body to straddle your thighs, tossing the blankets off of you and fumbling with the rest of his shirt. he didn’t know where to begin; your soft, gently parted lips, your enticing neck, your barely clothed tits, your exposed hips where your slip rode up. he tossed his bunched up shirt along with the blanket before swiftly unbuckling his belt and easing the tension in his pants.

the tips of his fingers ghosted over your hip, inching the lacy hem of your slip further up your waist. “fuck,” he hissed, slipping his hand underneath the delicate fabric to cup your breast through the thin lace bra. it wasn’t enough. diluc grasped the clip at the center of your chest, snapping it open.

you stirred in your sleep, maybe reacting to the tickle of his red hair against the dip in your stomach as he lowered his lips to one breast, letting you settle before latching onto your nipple. the way your body remained slack under his touch was foreign to him and he thought about waking you up, but a small part of him liked the idea of doing whatever he wanted with no resistance. so he kept going, kneading your other tit with his free hand, enjoying the faint whines that slipped past your unmoving lips.

diluc worked sloppy kisses down your body until he reached the thin waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into either side and shimmying them down your plush thighs. he glanced up to your serene face, now cutely twisted into a pout in your sleep. the tip of his finger prodded at your cunt. you were already fairly wet and his thumb glided over your clit with fervor. your body reacted this time, lightly twisting and turning as broken, unaware moans filled the silence.

“that’s it, love,” diluc groaned, palming himself through his boxers. he slid his middle finger into you, enjoying the tiny flinch between your eyebrows. you were more turned on than he’d anticipated, adding another digit with no resistance.

as wrong as it felt, the flush rising in diluc’s face overpowered his morale. your thighs twitched, instinctively yet gently squeezing his fist as you clenched around his fingers. diluc stumbled on a gasp and his gaze had to meet your face to ensure you were still asleep. he was in awe when he saw your expressions morph but simultaneously showed no signs of consciousness.

he hummed, pleased with the warmth he felt slowly dripping down his fingers, and removed them. you hardly reacted, only a breathy whimper at the cold emptiness.

uncaring of the mess, he tore his boxers down his hips and hurried to hoist your leg underneath his arm.

with a slow thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside of you, groaning at how tightly you squeezed him even in your sleep. his hips stuttered at first, struggling to adjust to the feeling. when he was able to quicken his pace, the bed frame began to creak and you shifted more frequently.

each thrust drew whimpers from your throat and your eyebrows knitted together. but what really egged diluc on was when his name would slip from your lips in soft fragments. he wondered if whatever you saw behind your eyelids was consistent with what he saw with his open ones.

diluc didn’t think too hard about it, only pausing to push your thigh closer to your chest before continuing. he knew he wouldn’t last much longer and while he felt bad that you wouldn’t finish, he couldn’t imagine stopping.

“shit.” the man cursed through a sharp inhale when your body instinctively contracted. it was much more intentional this time around and you started to rouse from your sleep. diluc knew he should have shown at least an ounce of guilt, but when your confused eyes met his, he just couldn’t.

your eyes clamped shut as quickly as they’d opened when his hips slammed into you and a broken cry fell from your lips. you reached out and grasped diluc’s arms, fingers digging into his skin as your body tried to process your oncoming orgasm.

“diluc, ‘m so close,” you whined. “don’t stop, please.”

he couldn’t stop if he tried. a few more deep strokes and you came undone with a weak cry of his name. he followed soon after, not bothering to pull out. after seeing you all pretty in his color, hell, he knew you were just perfect.

“i’m sorry, love. i got carried away. are you okay?” his knuckles gently stroked the side of your face and he lost the sharp edge he had just moments earlier. red eyes scanned you for any signs of a negative reaction.

instead, your hand enveloped around his and you leaned into him with a smile. “are you kidding? if i knew you’d do that, i’d have bought this ages ago.”

me crankin my kinktober shit out in late december DONT JUDGE LMFAO -r

[iamjacksragingboner]

Overbearing Soap 3

Overprotective Soap gets sick, and is hellbent on making you do things for him: feed him, wash him, jerk him off, all the regular things people do for you when you're sick.

Part 2

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Smut, hand fucking, jerking Soap off, dub con, you know the deal

A/N: Gonna be real with you, I've never actually written smut before. Shits difficult when you don't know what the fuck goes on. YOU'RE TELLIN ME THE PEENER GOES WHERE? Anyways go easy on me shawties.

You weren’t entirely sure when you got used to Johnny living with you, but you had kind of just accepted your joint occupancy at that point. You’d spied on Johnny’s laptop—apart from the various open porn tabs which you didn’t dare click on—his emails to the landlord, moving out of his apartment and putting his name on your lease as well. He hadn’t exactly discussed this with you, but then again, you figured Johnny never really tended to discuss any of his decisions with you; they just sort of happened, and you were just along for the ride.

There was a time where Johnny woke up with a fever, all sniffly and hot, yet shivering in bed next to you. “I swear, if you get me sick, Johnny, I will have your guts for garters,” you moaned, dragging yourself out of bed and away from the blubbering snot machine.

You were surprised and equally concerned to find that he didn’t have the strength to retort at all, instead settling for a groaning, almost whimpering noise, which wasn’t good in the slightest. You pressed the back of your palm to his forehead, and grimaced as it came away burning hot. “Alright,” you sighed, “let’s get you on the mend, big guy. I’m thinking a cold washer, some soup, and lots of water for you.”

You, of course, held true to your promise. You felt that you were obligated to—he’d practically bent over backwards to accompany you through your own healing process, whether you liked it or not. It would be cruel of you not to return the favour.

Johnny was not, by any means of the phrase,ba willing patient. He seemed to be outright adamant that he was a) not sick and b) able to take care of not only himself, but you at the same time. Of course, he had said this to you with his head in the toilet and you kneeling next to him, rubbing his back as he hurled once more.

“Honestly, Johnny, it’s fine,” you said, running your fingers through his now shaggy mohawk, as he rested his head against the seat of the toilet, eyes half closed. “You did the exact same for me, if not more; I’d feel bad just leaving you to fend for yourself.”

Johnny hummed, his eyes slipping closed as you scratched the back of his head. “Don’ want ye ta get sick, bonnie,” he murmured, “I’d feel worse than I do now if I did.”

You couldn’t help but sympathise with the man; he clearly cared a great deal for you, which at one point in your time spent together, confused you greatly. Why had this great big soldier that you didn't actually know all too well insisted on taking care of you, to the almost obsessive degree of moving into your home and following you around like a shadow, or guard dog?

You had to practically drag the man out of your kitchen and back to bed when you came home to him attempting to cook. You say attempting, because his eyes were half open, and he kept putting the knife down he was using to cut garlic to go blow his nose. He hadn't gotten very far in his cooking adventures.

"Lass!" he called, his voice pinched and nasally. "Go put yer feet up, 'm makin' soup for us!" His enthusiasm was punctuated by a rather loud, honking sneeze, and you grimaced at the thought of how much food he'd likely already contaminated.

"I'm good, thanks, John," you said, gently, reaching around him to grab the knife from his hand and put it down. Placing your hands on his shoulders—ignoring the way he seemed to lean affectionately into your touch—you guided him over to the couch. He would still be able to see you at work in the kitchen, which would satisfy his guard dog tendencies, and would be off his feet and relaxing, satisfying your own anxieties about the cleanliness of your kitchen. "You stay here and just chill out, I'll handle the cooking, honestly."

Johnny, a little affronted at being kicked out of the kitchen, and probably delirious, went to stand up. Within an instant, he was hit with a wave of light headedness, and stumbled into you. You were quite frankly amazed that you didn't crumble under his weight, as you guided him back down to the couch. You left your hands pressed against his chest for just a moment—in your mind it was a preventative measure to refrain Johnny from getting up again, feeling his pectorals was merely a side effect—before straightening up. "Stay," you said authoritatively, pointing at the sickly man before you for good measure.

You made the soup to the comforting sounds of the TV on low volume and Johnny's grunting little snores, tasting it every so often so that it was to your liking, but making sure to cut the onion up small—Johnny didn't like onions, the big baby. You left a bowl to cool on the counter for a bit as you tiptoed over to Johnny's sleeping form on the couch.

He looked so peaceful; curled around a cushion, one arm under his head, his lips parted just so, curls from his overgrown mohawk trickling down his face, eyelashes pressed against freckled cheeks, stubble covering those scars on his chin that you always thought about tracing with your fingers as you lay awake at night, listening to his snores.

You reached out longingly, a finger just barely brushing his chin before Johnny's eyes shot open, and he grabbed your wrist with a speed and force that made you cry out in shock. His eyes softened as he realised it was you in front of him, and he cooed, bringing your hand up to your mouth to kiss your knuckles.

"Ye scared me, bonnie," he whispered, and fuck if that groggy whisper didn't make your cheeks heat up. Maybe you'd caught his fever.

"Soup," you said simply, pointing to the dish on the counter. There was no way you were flustered. Absolutely none.

"Soup's ready, is it?" he asked gently, the words muffled by your knuckles still pressed against his lips. "Yer gonna have ta feed me, lass; I cannae feed myself, my arms are too weak, I'm too frail ‘n weak."

If you were in any right mind you would have called his bluff, given the speed at which he grabbed your wrist, but unfortunately you were too busy turning beet red at his lips still brushing against your skin. They were so soft. You had definitely caught his fever.

-

Feeding Johnny soup was surprisingly more difficult than you initially expected. This was mostly because while he kept saying he was too weak to possibly feed himself, he kept trying to grab the spoon from you to feed you.

"Johnny, don't!" you had cried out for what felt like the umpteenth time that evening. "You're sick and you've eaten off that spoon, that's so gross."

Johnny, seemingly unconcerned with possibly spreading his germs, shrugged and continued to try to force feed you soup, even adding plane noises to further entice you. It was, in fact, not working. "Ye need sustenance, let me feed ye, bonnie."

"What happened to not wanting me to get sick too, hmm?"

"Changed my mind—we die together like men."

-

Once you had finally managed to feed the sickly goblin of a man, it was time to put him to bed. This also meant breaking the news to him that you would not be sharing the bed that night.

"Whaddya mean?" Johnny asked, incredulously. "Who am I supposed to hold when I sleep?"

You sighed, hands on your hips like a tired mother. "A pillow or something? Look, Johnny, it's just one or two nights, I'm sure you'll survive."

Somehow you managed to get Johnny to agree, and you went and slept on your lumpy little couch. It was a little colder without having the living radiator sleeping next to you, but you managed.

You woke up the next morning with your arm hanging off the couch, with someone holding it. Peeking over the edge of the couch to look, you were greeted with Johnny's sleeping face once again, your hand held in his, pressed to his mouth. You had to physically restrain yourself from crawling down there and wrapping yourself in his arms, instead choosing to gently release your hand from his grip.

-

"Johnny, I'm sorry, but you reek—you need to step like three more steps away from me or have a shower, like pronto." Johnny had pressed himself against your back as you worked in the kitchen, having no real concept of personal space even when ill.

Johnny huffed and puffed like a petulant child, refusing to step back from you. "Been so weak though, bonnie, cannae wash myself. Might need ye ta wash me."

"I am not going to wash you."

-

How you ended up in the shower with Johnny, both of you more naked than you'd like, you'd never know. All you knew at that current moment was Johnny asking you to wash his dick.

"It's not gonna bite ye, lass, ye dinnae need ta worry."

"That's actually not what I'm worried about, Johnny."

You had already washed the rest of him, his skin covered in soap suds, and you were absolutely not enjoying the view. Definitely not.

'Just do it, it's for a good cause, I'm sure. He helped you, just return the favour! It definitely isn't weird, and is very normal actually. Nurses do it all the time!'

Mustering up what little courage you had, you reached down with a sponge and began to wash his lower stomach, gradually working your way down bit by bit. You made it your mission to not look at it or Johnny, keeping your eyes trained instead on the wall beside you.

"What good are ye gonna do starin' at the wall? Gotta look where yer scrubbin, lass." With a heavy hand on the back of your head, Johnny guided you to look down, directly at his dick. This definitely wasn’t doing anything for you. What was worse, was that it was pointed directly at you, twitching any time the sponge got just a little too close to it.

"You're hard."

'Nice going, captain obvious; got any other astute observations up your sleeve?'

"Well, it's a very normal bodily function, lass, nothin' ta be afraid of. Though the view I've got certainly isn't helpin' things."

If you weren't uncomfortable with the situation before, you most certainly were now. It didn't help that you were definitely going to have to dig through your drawers for your vibrator after this. For unrelated reasons that definitely weren't related to Johnny's dick.

"Fine, fine, fine, let's just get this over with." You ran the sponge across his length, stopping immediately when he grabbed your wrist and hissed.

"Not with the sponge, lass! Steamin' bloody Jesus, are ye tryin' ta kill me? Use somethin' softer!"

Unless you counted the toilet scrubber, you didn't really have any other cleaning implements in the bathroom at your disposal. Johnny seemed to notice your hesitation and grabbed the sponge with his other hand, dropping it on the floor of the shower.

"Ye can just use yer hands, love; nothin' wrong with that."

Plenty wrong with it, actually, according to you, especially with that sweet tone his voice had adopted to guide you. But, it wasn't like he was going to let up any time soon. You held your breath as Johnny steered your hand along his dick, not bothering to question the fact that he could suddenly use his hands again, instead keeping your attention glued to your hands. He guided your hand to its base, and you ran your fingers through the curls in some sort of attempt to keep this strictly professional. You were here to clean. Nothing else.

Of course, you could only do so much to the hair at the base of his dick, there was still the elephant (dick) in the room to consider: would washing his dick for him essentially be like jerking him off?

You got your answer pretty quickly in the form of the grunt he made as you finally began to properly wash his dick, your hand, covered in soap suds, gliding up and down its length. In all fairness, there wasn't really any way to wash his erection that didn't bring him any pleasure. It was just incredibly awkward.

You huffed. "I'm not washing your dick if you're going to make sounds while I do it. It's clean enough." You let go, letting it twitch and throb at the absence of touch, and Johnny whined.

"I cannae leave the shower all pent up like this, bonnie," he groaned, taking a step towards you, his dick moving with him. You tore your eyes away in exchange for looking him in the eye. Horrific mistake on your part, the combination of wet curls and those kicked puppy blue eyes was a double whammy—you'd do anything those eyes told you to. "I cannae deal with it myself..."

"There's no way I'm doing that."

"Please, lass, ye cannae leave a poor, sick man hangin' like this."

"I can and I will."

"Please..."

"... Fine."

You knelt before the man, a little uncertain about the position, but eager to get it over with—Johnny seemed eager too. It seemed that the minute your hand even grazed his aching dick, he was buckling in the knees and holding the walls of your shower for support. The tip of his dick wept petulantly, beads of precum dribbling from the slit, only to be wiped away by your thumb.

You weren't a prude, you'd slept with people before and you knew what you were doing, it was just... a little weird to do this with someone who was essentially your roommate. Who slept, pressed against your back in the same bed as you. Who held you hand any chance he got. Who grew jealous of any man who spoke to you. You were starting to think it was a bit of a stretch to call him your roommate.

"Come on," Johnny whined, wrapping his hand over yours and thrusting into it, impatient as ever. It was mesmerising, the way the head of his cock, pink and weeping, glistening in the shower lights, would peek through your closed fist and retract again, Johnny grunting above you, his eyes closed and head thrown to the ceiling. "Fuck, been waitin' for this, bonnie. Yer hand's so soft."

You didn't respond, stuck between feeling turned on and horrified. Johnny was fucking into your hand with unbridled enthusiasm, and you were there for moral support, you supposed.

"Ye look so good on yer knees for me, lass, so pretty for me."

At least he was nice about it. You didn't mind all that much, you’d decided. It wasn't like you had a particularly bad view either, staring up at Johnny's naked form, water trickling down his hairy chest, down his stomach and into his happy trail. Big blue eyes stared down at you longingly, raking across your body as if you were his and his only.

With a grunting moan, Johnny came, white hot ropes dribbling down your forearm as he thrust into your closed fist, his hand tightening around yours. With a shuddering sigh, he sank to his knees in front of you, and laced his fingers around yours. Bringing your hand up to his lips, you were met with the familiar sensation of Johnny kissing your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. You were left in silence.

"Thank ye, bonnie," he murmured against your hand, staring at you through his lashes. "I'll pay ye back, I promise. Let's get ye cleaned up, aye?"