#Men’s active Track Pants

[mens-sports-wear]

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I think a lot of what's currently informing my fellow white people curdling like milk and shitting their pants when asked to interrogate their relationship with rap is the way many people (especially well-meaning white people) still can't help but think of racism as something that you get accused of rather than something that influences the entire world in pernicious ways.

like, I think a lot of people currently posting the most cringe takes about rap right now would very much agree that Racism Is Bad and probably even acknowledge that rap has been and is still widely maligned and devalues for racist reasons.

but that last step, acknowledging that your personal tastes and interests are also influenced by systemic racism, is where a LOT of people stumble. it's very easy to assume that because you consider yourself against racism, then your tastes and interests cannot possibly be at all informed by racist. if you're a white American, that's simply extremely unlikely to be true.

speaking from personal experience, I had to Work to decenter whiteness in my media tastes. when I was like 19 I listened to a podcast where a white Jewish man talked about keeping a spreadsheet of the books he read to make sure he was reading a roughly equal number of men and women, and I started doing the same thing to track how many authors of color I was reading. at the time I took pride in my belief that I was reading diversely, but when the year ended I was shocked to discover that people of color had written barely a quarter of the books I'd read. I had been giving myself way too much credit while still unintentionally prioritizing white authors, because white authors were the ones I knew best. so I started making an extremely conscious effort to seek out books by authors of color, both fiction and nonfiction, that sounded like my kind of shit.

music was extremely similar. I grew up a little white girl in a very white city in a very white state; nobody was offering me an education in rap or r&b or soul or hip hop. as an young adult there were definitely some Black artists I liked, like Janelle Monáe, but I had to take the initiative of seeking out more artists to find out who I fuck with. you're not going to like everybody, which is fine, but are you even giving anyone a chance? are you even looking?

racism has roots everywhere, bro. it's not enough to just acknowledge it, you have to actively get digging.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ribbon, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook asks you what you would do to him if he was naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair. He really is asking for it, isn't he?

warnings: rated M (18+) – JK is insolent bc he's secretly nervous smh; reader is unafraid to challenge him; smut (fem reader, he's obv naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair, hand appreciation (?) spit kink, photography during sex, use of safe word, m-receiving oral, edging, f-masturbation); non-idol!AU; switches between reader's POV and JK's POV

--

“I’ve been wondering – do you ask me these questions because you’re bored, voyeuristic, or propositioning me?”

“W… What?”

“Hm? I’m allowed to ask that, aren’t I? Or can only you ask the questions?”

-

Truth to be told, you already had a good guess. It was just more fun to put someone on the spot. Strange that, even with the certain, ahem, reputation you had, people still took the time to misconstrue. It was tiring. Not entertaining in the slightest. Well, being entitled and self-serving was human nature. You didn’t mind it, as long as one owned up to their shamelessness.

Which never happened.

One could hope.

Regardless, you were willing to entertain when you felt like it. However, you refused to be a performance monkey. Even that practice was becoming obsolete as people realized the inhumanity of it all. If only the same could be applied to openly sexually active femme fatales. Sigh. For this reason, you avoided dating, both because it was exhausting and because we all die alone. Mhm. And, due to your rigid stance against romance, you of course kept finding yourself in long-term relationships. The universe never ceased with its paradoxes. With age came a rare lull. You figured that surely now was the time to be alone. Thus, the universe put Jeon Jungkook in your path, who did everything except for leaving you alone.

Ah.

The universe and its great paradoxes.

You were well aware of his fascination with your freak. He was green to it, too. It was the off-hand questions trying to catch you off guard paired the attempts at producing shock factor to a seasoned veteran that were the dead giveaway. Not that things weren’t moving forward as they normally did. A drag racer was slower than how you and him were progressing. Eh, you always believed time was a finite resource. So, you let him lead you along while skirting the edges of what if. Mostly to test his persistence. Alright, it was pretty fun for you as well. But the next evolution couldn’t quite continue without discussion.

Even nymphomaniacs could have morals.

Sometimes.

You watched his thoughts play out on his face. He was stuck in the mental battle of societal expectations, self-respect, and the truth. You wondered which would win.

“I… Just bored. That’s all,” he mumbled.

Hm. Societal expectations won. To be expected. Someday he would work up to the truth on the first try. He was one of those men with a pretty face, an arm sleeve of tattoos, and few reservations. But one of them was still sex, because sex was an undefined creature that he was still attempting to domesticate to that fantastical mold that media tended to favor. False idols attracted fanatics and fanatics generated payola. The most profitable subscription service was the lies that bound society.

It was what it was.

You weren’t surprised or disappointed by it. Didn’t hold it against him either. You leaned against the sofa cushions, facing him. With a smile. His jumpiness was quite cute. The tip of his tongue danced over his lower lip in involuntary nervousness. He had a tiny mole underneath his mouth, right at the center, that you were mildly obsessed with and hadn’t told him yet. Large black-brown eyes that shattered the tough image he was trying to aspire to but you weren’t going to tell him that. His style was big, baggy, and dark. Today was no exception. Black t-shirt, black track pants, gray beanie. Didn’t even dress up for the occasion of trying to bang you in his basement.

Well, trying to get you to bang him in his basement, actually.

You preferred it this way. It was authentic. You proceeded to question him. Just because you knew why he said what he said didn’t mean you had to accept it. You were trying to get to know him, after all.

“Is that so? Just bored, so you wanna get tied up?”

-

Actually, his reason was that he was horny. Which was probably obvious, but wasn’t something Jeon Jungkook felt like confirming. He learned for the start that she was not the subtle type. She did not seem to mind making the first move, so much so that Jungkook hadn’t realized she had until she had him backed in a corner that one time. It was a refreshing change. However, he had made the mistake of putting up an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude in attempt to match her confidence when he very much did give a fuck. He gave a lot of fucks. To be more precise, he was trying to get fucked. And now trying to make her think it was her idea.

It was going…

Well.

Ish.

He knew from their first meeting that she was endgame. He didn’t do anything about it, because that would have gotten him labeled as a creep. Jeon Jungkook had flaws, but he was not a creep. He wasn’t her target at the time either, so. That was that. Over the years as he learned more about her, he was even more convinced that she was it for him. She was clever, resourceful, and unafraid to be the villain in someone’s story if it meant doing what was right. Sometimes you have to be a little bad to do a lot of good, she once said. It stuck with him. He used to think that his one true love would have to be his career. Film school was not cheap either. Money was required for existing, sadly. A person would, therefore, always come second. But, right now, seeing the way that her sleek black turtleneck and those tapered slacks draped over her body as she sat beside him on his black leather sofa, knowing that she was gently chastising him with her teasing smile, and, hell, even knowing that she in no way fell for his bait – there was no one else. There would never be anyone else. He just knew.

Whether it worked out or not, uh, remained to be seen.

Outlook was currently bleak.

“Why are you into that stuff, anyway?”

She leaned her head against the back of her hand with her elbow on the back of the sofa. “I’m not so much into it as it is my very nature.” The tip of her tongue grazed the edge of her teeth. He wanted her to bite him. He could also listen to her talk all day. But he would prefer the biting first. “Personal lore aside, everyone has things they are passionate about. Such as you and your mini movie theater down here.”

She was referring to the room they were in now, with the projector and sofas. The basement allowed him to enjoy the surround sound without disturbing his neighbors. There were a couple folding chairs leaning against the far wall for extra seating when he felt like hosting a karaoke night. He was actually very interested in her personal lore but maybe it was too much childhood trauma dump for this sexually charged moment. She knew time and place like that.

“People will talk behind your back if you like sex that much,” he pointed out.

Not for the first time, it seemed. “They talk behind your back even if you don’t like sex that much,” she chuckled, the oscillating blue-and-purple mood lighting making her eyes gleam. “For instance, I know for a fact that people speculate about your sexual prowess all the time. I’ve heard stuff.”

Jungkook doubted that. People possibly couldn’t be that unhinged. “Like what?”

She mused. “Like how you have a huge dick and are super dominant in bed.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Uh… huh…”

She smiled at him.

The same way a lioness would smile at a desert hare.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be thought of in such a… nice… way. It would be an ego boost if she hadn’t made it sound so objectifying. There was something off about it. Like looking into a mirror and seeing a blemish he didn’t remember having. He watched her eyes rather than looking into them. They had a distinct, sharp shape that reminded him of his favorite female characters in video games. She leaned a little closer. She always wore very nice perfume. Her natural scent was better, though. Tasting skin on tongue and breathing in at the same time, feeling her breath scatter at his touch, now that was perfection.

She ticked her head. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He realized he was slouching and straightened. He was most certainly not leaning forward in eagerness. Or anything like that. Nope. “You didn’t answer mine either.”

“I answer your hypotheticals every day. Humor me.”

Yeah, and didn’t offer to test any of them. He did his best to not feel bitter about it. He felt bitter about it anyway. “I said I was just bored.” Her waist-to-ass ratio was accentuated by her sitting position. Unreal.

She either didn’t notice his wandering eyes or didn’t mind it. “They say the first thought you have is the thought you have been conditioned to have.” Her hand was resting on her thigh. Didn’t move. She had said earlier the glittering reflective dark blue color she was wearing was from a Star Wars nail polish collection. It made the points of her almond manicure glisten in the low lights. “True feelings take a little more time to process.”

His eyes traveled up.

He wondered if she had ever thought about chilling the fuck out.

“What if you were the one being tied up?” he asked shadowed eyes.

She frowned slightly. “Now that sounds boring. For me, personally.” She stuck out the tip of her tongue before adding, “Hate that.”

He leaned onto his knees. “Oh, but you’re ready to do it to someone else?”

Her eyes slid downward to track his movement. “In my defense, you asked,” she said softly. Dangerously. “There’s no need to stress for compatibility. It’s either there or not.”

A pause.

In all honesty, Jungkook had first started asking the vulgar questions to see if he could throw her off guard. Then it became fascinating how unbothered she was by it. At some point, he couldn’t really help it anymore because he had become suddenly aware that she was aware of her effect on him. She had begun to notice how acutely he was listening to her answers. How he always had an involuntary reaction to her standing close to him. One time, he had felt the tips of her fingernails grazing over his lower back and visibly shivered. She had paused. Given him this look. He had held it but didn’t say anything. They were amongst other people. Must have been an accident. The next time, she did it intentionally. He held himself together better this time, but still returned the same knowing stare.

It became a silent game they played, just the two if them.

He asked the question of if she ever considered being on the receiving end of the power dynamic. She always rejected. He knew by now. He was only asking to stall for time. It was a dumb question, because nothing was a front with her. He liked that. He liked that she didn’t try to control anyone around her but rather had complete control of who she was. Didn’t try to convince anyone to change their opinion of her even though Jungkook hated it when he heard other people call her a slut. They used to be his friends but he stopped talking to them. He didn’t want to deal with that shit. He could get new friends.

He tilted his head at her.

She mimicked him, intrigued.

“So, you’re all talk and no walk?”

-

Damn, Jeon Jungkook was really trying to push your buttons today. You had to admire the audacity. Or maybe he was just horny. Nah, let him have the gumption. You hard let him get pretty close already, to test the waters of your compatibility, and you were feeling pretty confident about it. In conclusion, very successful. But nothing as intense as what he was suggesting. Pushing for, really. The best course of action was to talk about logistics and follow up some other time. That wasn’t really the way you or he rolled, though.

“What’s your safe word?” you asked plainly.

Jungkook looked confused. “Safe word?” he echoed.

You nodded. “Mhm. You know what that is, don’t you?”

His dark eyes shifted. “Uh. Yeah. Of course.” He frowned. You waited. “Stop?”

You almost laughed out loud. Almost. “Try something more obscure,” you coaxed. “Sometimes we say stop out of habit but not because we mean it.”

Jungkook was giving you this look. Fiercely protective with an even split of jealousy. “Oh, so you do this often, huh?” A little accusatory.

You blinked slowly.

Gave the time to let his own words sink into his ears. Then you said, “I’m fine walking out of here and pretending you never existed. I’m really good at playing the ignoring game.”

He got the hint. Winced and looked away. There was a bit too much pride to apologize for his rude remark. You could tell he sort of wanted to, yet the seconds marched on. The silence extended. Well. As long as he got the hint that you weren’t tolerating that shit.

“S… Sorry,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

You stilled a bit, wondering if you heard correctly. “Apology accepted.” You decided not to hold it against him since he proved you wrong. “The safe word is not just for you. It’s for me, too, so I can alert you that you’re asking for something I’m not willing to do. So, technically, it’s for us.”

Us.

That seemed to reignite his interest. “There’s stuff you’re not willing to do?” Of course that was what he was curious about.

You half-smiled. “Mhm. Such as heavy physical abuse. Blood play. Also, I’m not into cages. Those types of things aren’t for me.”

His eyes widened. “O… Oh.”

You ticked your head teasingly. “Disappointed?”

His eyes darted away. His deep voice became small. “Kinda scared… What even is…” He quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, okay. Yeah. I understand.”

You didn’t fill the silence. You let him think about it. Giving him an easy out if he wanted it. To be honest, this wasn’t your plan for tonight. Maybe some making out, but you didn’t walk in the door thinking about blindfolding Jeon Jungkook, tying him up, and having your way with him. Bit of an excessive lead-in. Hm. Suited him, though. You would have worn something less boring if this was your plan for seduction. Turtleneck and slacks weren’t exactly screaming I-am-going-to-fuck-your-brains-out.

“Yanggaeng.”

You broke out of your thought bubble. “Sweet bean jelly?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I was thinking about food.”

You liked that. “Mmm. You have rope? Fabric. Preferably all-natural.”

He shook his head. “Uh… I have some leftover ribbon from wrapping Christmas presents?”

You considered it.

“Eh, that’ll work.”

-

The tight turtleneck and tailored slacks looked even better when she stood up. Her sensual figure was made imposing by the cut of the fabrics. Either she was very good or very lucky at selecting clothing. He could clearly see the enticing body lines while at the same time seeing nothing at all. Even her shadow looked good. He felt a bit like a potato next to her. Best not to think about it too much. He changed the mood lighting to red. For ambiance. She let him know what she needed. He told her to stay and wait. A spool of dark cranberry velvet ribbon, a pair of scissors, and one folding chair later, she tucked her hands in her pockets and tilted her head at him.

“Blindfold?”

Jungkook went off in search of a silk sleeping mask. Close enough, right?

“Ah, smart.” She nodded. “Okay, strip.”

He stared at her. “Uh.”

She looked back at him, unbothered.

The silence extended.

“You weren’t serious about that?” she finally asked.

Calmly, as if she was asking for clarification of his lunch order. Awkward. He bit back his tongue. He looked from the line up of collected objects on his basement coffee table and then back at her. Instead of looking expectant, she looked curious. They hadn’t seen each other fully naked yet. Just mostly. And touched. But that was different.

“What about you?”

She glanced down. Then back up. “In due time.” There she went with that lioness smile again. “It’ll be a temporary embarrassment.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he shot back instantly and then regretted it. But she didn’t taunt him. Just continued standing there. He touched the seat of the folding chair. “It’s kinda cold.”

She looked around. “You have linens down here? A hand towel in the bathroom?”

“There’s some on the bar cart back there.”

This was happening. Really happening. It was sinking in now. All the more reason to not think about it. He yanked his t-shirt off as she searched the bar cart for the spoken towels. He plucked his beanie off too, and realized how flat and unappealing his hair must look. He had not planned this, obviously. Quickly, he made his way to the bathroom by the stairs. Yup. His reflection was not it. It took some water and aggressive pushing back to fix his hair. Wet dog was a better look than compressed.

She seemed a little perplexed when he re-entered the room. There was a plush white towel on the seat of the chair now. She was holding another one in her hands. She immediately looked over to him as he approached. Made zero comment about his shiftlessness.

Rude.

“You’re wet.”

He snatched the spare towel from her hand. “Turn around.”

She blinked slowly. “Why?”

He thwacked the edge of the towel against her hip. She looked down, acknowledging the action, but didn’t react much. Raised her head with a slight tilt. He tried not to blush. Believed he had succeeded with the combined force of sheer willpower and a hearty dose of delusion. He glared.

“I’m going to see everything and you won’t get to see my reaction,” she reminded him.

He clutched the pearly white towel quite intensely. “So what?”

She smiled. In that way. “You can use your safe word if you want.”

He clenched his jaw.

“Turn. Around.”

She searched his face for a second. Then, she did as he asked, facing the other way so her back was to him. Damn. Nice ass. Not the first time he thought that. He must be crazy. She had given him the option to drop it all and go back to just the usual hot-and-heavy-almost-there. He stared at the back of her head. Her hair was twisted upwards, trapped in a claw clip. The covered nape of her neck made his blood run hot. He pressed his lips together before slapping the towel over his shoulder and reaching into his pocket, pulling his phone out and setting it on the coffee table. Then he took off his pants and boxer briefs.

He picked up the sleeping mask.

Sat down, draping the towel over his crotch before turning off the lights for himself behind black silk.

“Okay.”

Now would be a good time to get out of his head.

Sadly, that was not how life worked. And so Jungkook was forced to endure the revelation that he was not Daredevil, sigh. His hearing did not suddenly become more sensitive due to the absence of sight. Fuck. Hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider recently either. Damn. He heard nothing but the hum of the wine fridge. He tried to listen for any movement – rustling clothes, a change in breathing, even a single dust bunny shivering, but there was nothing but a looming sense of what-the-fuck-am-I-doing.

A fingertip touched his cheek.

He almost flung himself off the chair. He would have lost his chastity towel in the process though, so instead he clutched it and jerked his head, realizing partway that it was probably a bad idea. He might startle her with his sudden movement. He froze.

Her voice floated down, dreamlike and airy.

“Was I not supposed to turn around?”

“I… I wasn’t expecting…” Which was a dumb thing to say. Duh, she was supposed to turn around.

“Jumpy like a bunny.,” she purred.

His breath caught in his throat.

Her fingertip had only left for a second but it was back again, tracing his cheekbone. Then he felt the other three follow in a cascading caress. His skin tingled. Her fingers danced down, cradling his jaw. His body felt strange. It felt like his blood was burning in his veins. She gently guided his head back to face forward, cupping his chin in the base of her soft palm. He could smell her hand lotion. Herbal and warm with a hint of yuzu. The pad of her thumb touched his lower lip.

Then her lips were by his ear.

He felt her breath stroke his earrings.

“Can you see anything?” she softly asked.

He almost choked.  Somehow, he held it together. At least, he thought he did. “Fuck no.”

She tipped his head back. He realized he had instinctively closed his eyes under the sleeping mask anyway. He didn’t try to check if he could see but he heard her say, “I’d like for it to be nice and snug. That fine with you?”

He gave her the classic, “Whatever.”

That made her stifle a chuckle at least. Her hand let go of his chin. He let out the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He felt her adjust the plastic slider against the elastic so it was a little tighter and added alight pressure. Then he felt her wrist lift his chin and then her warm hand slid down his neck, fanning over his chest. He gasped and then immediately shut his mouth. Her other hand touched his forehead and tipped his head back once more.

Her lips brushed against the edge of his.

“Ready to get tied up?”

No, Jungkook was not ready. His heart was beating in his throat and cutting off all his air. His blood was on fire. What was scaring him was not what was happening but his reaction to it. The epitome of desire was too physical. It was freaking him out. Her name escaped his lips. He did not like the way it sounded to his ears. Hopefully she didn’t catch any of the nuance.

“Mhm? What’s wrong?” Her breath mixed with his breath.

He sucked in air. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

She kissed him.

He didn’t expect that at all. If it wasn’t for the damn chair, he would have tumbled to the ground. It was only a press of lips to lips, lasting for perhaps one very long second. Her lips were very soft. Plush. Fun to kiss, he had always thought to himself. And then she pulled away with a satisfied sigh.

“I know what I’m doing. Do you remember the safe word?”

He heard her pick up the scissors.

-

“I’m not going to need the safe word.”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t see it, thankfully. You could only control yourself for so long. You stood behind him, holding the velvet ribbon and scissors. “What’s the safe word?” you repeated, more sternly this time.

“Yanggaeng.” Jungkook scoffed like a bratty kid that wasn’t getting his way. If he didn’t look so good naked and if you didn’t have the patience, you would have called this off by now. “You’re not gonna get all crazy on me, are you?”

Was it your imagination, or did he sound a little bit scared?

This probably wasn’t the time to bring up snuff films. “Good thing you have the safe word,” you remarked, crouching down and unraveling the ribbon. The cranberry-colored ribbon had weight and a sleek pile. It was the high-quality velvet. The price was still on the paper spool. Damn. His family must have gotten some nice gifts. You snipped off a decent length and called out to him. “Bring your hands back here.”

He hesitated for a second. You waited. His shoulders shifted and he crossed his wrists behind the folding chair. The muscles of his arms stood out, one bare and the other accented by dark, colorful, swirling tattoos from hand to shoulder.

You did smile.

What? His obedience was cute.

But you took a moment to readjust so his hands were side by side instead of crossed. You also turned his wrists inward so the pressure points wouldn’t be stressed. He would probably twist and move around eventually but you preferred to start off like this. You made sure there was some distance between his hands before you made a loop and began wrapping around both wrists.

“How do I know that you would even listen if I said the safe word?”

“I’m not going to gag you,” you replied a matter-of-factly. After a few wraps, you turned the ends perpendicular to the loops and crossed them before beginning to weave them parallel to his extended arms. “You can yap however much you want.”

“Yeah, but are you gonna listen?”

You paused before making the knot. “You don’t think I will?”

“I dunno. What if you go beastmode or something?”

Ah. You brushed aside your initial hurt feelings once you realized he wasn’t personally attacking your character. “If I could go beastmode, I would find a way to make money off it, not use it on you when you’re tied up like a Christmas present.” You tied a square knot. Fuck it. And added a bow to finish it off. You saw him test his restraints.

“… You do know what you’re doing, huh?”

“I keep telling you that and you keep not believing me.” You unraveled another long length and snipped it off.

Jungkook heard it and flinched. “What are you doing now?”

You were about to cut another one to match but you stopped. “I’m going to tie your ankles to the legs of the chair.”

“O… Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I… It’s whatever.”

You felt a muscle in your cheek twitch. “Do you want to stop?”

He shrugged as much as he could. “Up to you. You’re in charge, right?”

You had not known Jungkook on a personal level for very long but you had enough intimate moments to know when he was being a cocky lil shit. It was mostly a bluff of false confidence to hide his nervousness. But it was annoying. He was basically low-key making fun of you. Well, not you specifically but BDSM in general. Probably unintentionally and out of ignorance, which was why you hadn’t brought down the axe yet. You licked your teeth, thinking.

He called your name.

In the same way he did before, when you had been holding his chin and asking if he was ready to be tied up. Low. Breathless. Fleeting, as if he didn’t want you to really hear it. You softened slightly at that. You cut the last length and let him hear you put the scissors and ribbon back onto the coffee table. Your misgivings would probably resolve themselves. You trusted him that much, at least. Whether or not that was a mistake would soon be known. Still, you had to teach him a lesson. You couldn’t let him think you were going to tolerate these comments forever. Then you got an idea. An awful idea.

You got a wonderful, awful idea.

You smiled the entire time as you bound his ankles to the legs of the chair.

-

“You scared?”

“Not really.”

This was fine. Everything was fine. Jungkook was not scared. One, because he totally wouldn’t be intimidated by a girl. Ever. Yup. Not him. And, two, because she had assured him that she was not going to go crazy on him and she totally wouldn’t lie. Right. So. He would be fine. His limbs were getting a bit cold now but his chest felt hot, as if someone was pointing a heater on his ribs. Cooked, if you will. He breathed in deeply yet quietly, trying to relieve the undefinable tension. She was behind him because he heard the click of her claw clip. Must be readjusting her hair. Haha. He was worrying over nothing. It wasn’t like she had whips and chains in her purse.

He heard her breathe in.

He was about to quip, are you nervous, but then he felt her hands close in around his forearms.

Her fingernails skimmed over his skin and dragged down.

He stiffened at the rising tingling sensation. It bloomed from his arms up to his shoulders, crawling down his pecs and into the pit of his stomach. His breath caught in his throat. Did time stop or was it due to the fact that he couldn’t see? Her warm touch closed in the cold backs of his hands. The binding around his wrists was secure but allowed her to turn his palms outward. Her lips touched the pads of his fingers.

She kissed his hands.

Never in a million years did he think she was going to kiss his hands. He was bound to a chair, blindfolded, naked, and the one isolated sensation he could feel was her lips traveling over the lines of his palms. His fingertips. Her breath trailing after. He could hear the delicate sound drifting up from below. He felt her fingers cup his, caressing his knuckles, and shivers slid up and down his body, diffusing the heat from his chest to his limbs. It was weirdly intimate. More intimate than sticking his dick in someone, which seemed fucking impossible, but it was. He didn’t know how to react. His entire body was frozen.

His breathing went shallow.

Her tongue slid out and curled around his right index finger.

Warm. Wet. Agile. His legs were spread open, locked in place by the binds. The towel was still draped over his crotch. He felt it shift when his dick twitched as her tongue licked his hands. There was almost no sound. Saliva dripped down his fingers. He suddenly felt her warm mouth closing in around two of them. She must be low on the ground to do that since his elbows weren’t raised at all. Jungkook bit back what was surely to be an embarrassing sound.

His fingers were halfway in her mouth when she said, “You can make noise, you know.”

Somehow, she was able to enunciate while sucking. His cock twitched again. “W-What are you talking about?” He only stuttered because he had not realized what little breath he had. “You haven’t… Haven’t done anything yet.” His racing heartbeat was choking him again.

She exhaled, low and slow.

His fingers slid out of her mouth with a wet plop. Then into the warmth went the fingers of his left hand, her tongue snaking in between, back and forth. Her pointed fingernails dug into the backs of his hands, almost pulling him. The persistent tingling danced all over his skin. He sucked in a breath. His hands were let go and then it was only her hot mouth traveling all over his fingers and palms. She hummed and the vibration coursed through his entire body. It was foreign and sensual and mind-numbing. She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to. He kept thinking about how good it would feel to wrap his wet, slippery hands around his growing erection and yet he couldn’t, trapped in her circling tongue.

He shuddered.

His right thumb was pressed against something hard and cold.

It lasted for maybe a millisecond. His brows knitted together in confusion. Then he felt her tongue slide up his right forearm, dripping saliva. Soaking the velvet. He couldn’t feel her hands anymore. The trail of kisses traveled up his arm and to his shoulder. He leaned into it, wanting more.

“Hm. I think I found a nice place to sit,” she whispered.

He would have replied with a snappy comeback but then she started kissing his right ear, melting away his thoughts. Lightly biting. Sucking. Toying with his earrings, and he heard the zipper of her pants unravel. This was familiar territory. He let himself bask in the attention, letting out a satisfied sigh. Then he heard it.

The sound of a camera shutter.

For a moment, he thought he imagined it. He was so focused on the sensations on his right ear that he wasn’t paying attention to the left. He turned his head slightly, puzzled. Her warmth shifted. Circling. He was about to ask if she had heard it too, but then he felt her knee slide between his legs, stopping just so. He became highly aware that she was right in front of him. He moved his head to face the direction of her breath, tilting upwards. He couldn’t see but it was obvious. Her fingers laced into his now mostly dry hair and she yanked. The pain was momentary.

Click.

“Woah!”

 His hands clasped instinctively. He was quickly cognizant of his compromising position. His throat exposed, the towel barely clinging to his erection, dangerously low, and it occurred to him that she was holding his head with her left hand. He heard the sound of the camera shutter again. There was no mistaking it now. Panic shot through his ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Her voice was eerily calm.

“Guess.”

Click.

Her hand turned and the base of her palm pressed against the top of the blindfold.

“Are you taking pictures of me?” he gasped, feeling his face flush hot.

She didn’t answer. She did not answer. He pulled against the velvet ribbon but his ankles and wrists were going nowhere. Her knee on the seat of the chair prevented him from moving it. He would have to throw his weight to one side to break out of her grasp but then she might be injured at the same time. His mind reeled. Click.

“Stop squirming,” she finally said.

“Stop –?” He did not know why he was hiss-whispering and yet he didn’t want to yell in her face. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Click. “You take selfies all the time.”

His cheeks were on fire. “That’s… This isn’t the same at all!” He writhed, arching his back. “You can’t… Don’t… Please!”

All of a sudden he felt her chest press against his. Or, more accurately, her breasts. Still clothed, apparently, because he felt the smoothness of the turtleneck fabric and her bra underneath. He stopped raising the volume of his voice. Her face was close to his. He was breathing very rapidly and very shallow.

“What was that?” she murmured.

His head felt hot. His pulse roared in his ears.

“D… Don’t…”

“Just the last part,” she prompted, sweet like poison.

Confusion ate through the tension. “Uh…” He racked his brain. “Please?”

“Hm.”

Click.

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but then his lover whispered, “That wasn’t the safe word.”

The safe word.

He felt the edge of the cell phone touch his collarbone.

“Y-Yanggaeng,” he gasped.

She immediately pulled back and lifted the sleeping mask.

He blinked hard even through the red mood lighting wasn’t bright at all. Hurriedly shook his head. Panting. The tension eased down his limbs, melting away. He looked up. She was right there. Her left hand was on his shoulder now, bracing herself. In her right was his cell phone. The back, showing his phone case with a print of black marble with white veining. She turned it around wordlessly.

Jungkook saw his face.

Barely. The front camera was on. The front camera was on. He frowned, confused. Huh? He glanced down at the preview of recently taken photos and it was merely a black circle. He looked up, not quite understanding. She was looking down at him with an undefinable expression.

“Eh?”

She tapped the gallery and showed him the photos. All black screens. She swiped through them until she got to the most recent photo he took – an image of falling snow in the city. It was clear that she did not actually take a photo of him. Not a single one. He tilted his head. She switched back to the camera app and turned the phone around again, bracing it against her chest before he heard the camera shutter sound again. She had used her right thumb to press the button. All of the photos were when the lens was pressed to her covered chest.

“I’m not going to need the safe word,” she echoed hauntingly.

His eyes widened.

She raised an eyebrow.

Oh. “O…Oh.” He felt his cheeks warm again.

“Using the safe word is not just for extreme pain,” she said quietly. Her expression reflected mild disappointment. “I’m not fucking around, Jungkook. The safe word is not a joke.”

“Y… Yeah.” He looked down and then immediately couldn’t focus upon seeing her naked legs. “Yeah. I get it. Sorry.” He realized he should not have made light of something that was now proven to be very important. He looked back up, hesitantly. She seemed to relax due to his reaction. Even half-smiled. Forgiven, for now. “When did you swipe my phone?”

“When I put the scissors down.”

He smirked. “Sneaky.”

She chuckled. “Surprised you didn’t notice me unlocking it with your thumb print.”

He frowned slightly. “I felt it but I wasn’t sure what that was.” He narrowed his eyes. “I was a little distracted.”

Her shadowed eyes sparkled. “I think you liked it more than you let on.” She straddled his thighs, leaning her arms around his shoulders. The towel on his crotch was barely holding on. She didn’t look down though. Just stared into his eyes. “But I had to teach you a lesson.”

“Nuh uh.” He made a face. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Her amusement was subtle like a cat. “That would have been a nasty situation.”

“You know what I mean.”

He could stare into her eyes forever.

He probably should have been madder but she was right to begin with. Plus, it was hard to care when he could feel the weight of her naked thighs on his thighs. It was hard to think when he could almost feel their bodies pressed together with little air between them.

“You can put more weight on me.”

She didn’t take the bait. “I’m good.” Her tongue slid out and traced the edge of her lips.

His eyes followed. He sucked in a breath. Glanced back up.

She regarded him curiously.

“Kiss me.”

She didn’t move. Picturesque in the shadows. Imprinted into his memory.

“Please kiss me,” he breathed, low with want.

She tilted her head and kissed him.

Pulled her body closer and he moaned into her mouth. The towel bunched up against his hard length. He felt the warm dip between her legs. So close and yet so far. She kissed him deeply, the tip of her tongue against his lip, and he craned his head forward, driven by desire. Her tongue slid inside. He sucked on it, tight. His heartbeat against his ribs. Heat rising. Intensifying.

She broke the kiss, tearing his breath apart.

He half-opened his eyes. Her lips were glossy. Gleaming in the dark.

“Hey.”

Her eyes shifted under her lashes. Pupils slightly dilated. “Hm?”

“Take a selfie.”

Bewilderment. “Right now?” She frowned a bit. “My phone is over there.”

His voice was shaking a little. “With mine.”

She pulled back her right hand. The screen was dark. She still looked perplexed but made to get off his lap.

He immediately protested. “No.”

She turned the phone around. His lock screen was his Doberman who was blissfully asleep upstairs. “I need your fingerprint.”

“Use the PIN.”

She swiped the screen with raised eyebrows. Before she could ask, he gave her the answer.

“It’s your birth date.”

Her eyes flickered to him.

“What?” He shrugged as best he could. “I have to remember it somehow.”

She looked like she wanted to say something. Didn’t. Instead, she typed it in. The last open application was already loaded. It was still on the front camera. She raised off his thighs, holding onto his right shoulder with her left hand.

“Uh. Wait. The towel.”

She paused. Looked down. Back up. “What about it?”

He pouted. “Move it.”

Something flitted across her gaze. But she didn’t ask. She angled her hips and lifted the white towel from his lap gently. Upwards, so the edges had clearance before she tossed it aside. He glanced down, just in case. He wasn’t exactly hard. Not completely limp either. He was very aroused. He could feel pre-cum leaking onto the towel under him. His eyes went back to her face. For a split second, they shared a gaze. He couldn’t quite work out her expression. She had touched him before. Sucked him when he was fully hard. But never really seen him completely naked and not hard.

Every guy was self-conscious about that stuff.

She lowered back down and slid up higher. Higher, so the top of her crotch was against his abdomen. He inhaled sharply. She reached around and cupped his head, pressing it to her chest. He almost squeaked. Her thighs pressed against his hips. He wished she was completely naked.

What? Guys thought about that stuff too!

“Only my face, right?”

“Don’t get any of me,” he mumbled to her tits. “I don’t need any pics of myself.”

“You take a lot of pics of yourself. I’ve seen your Instagram,” she chuckled and then he heard the camera shutter.

“I deleted that,” he grumbled as she let go of his head and turned the screen. He could barely make her out but the highlighted details were exquisite. The red light and deep black shadows cast her pretty face with a vampiric glow. She had said she wasn’t into blood play but Jungkook was pretty sure he would let her suck his blood.

“Satisfied?”

His mouth was open. He closed it. “Uh. Yeah.”

She smiled. “You wanna continue?”

It did not occur to him that he could stop all this right now. “What? Duh.” He wiggled in place. “I haven’t even cum yet!”

Her smile grew. “Oh?”

“Hey! You gotta hold up your side of the deal,” he complained, stressed that she wasn’t going to let him bust a nut like this. “Come on.”

She was really serving Cheshire cat now. It might have been the lighting.

“Then it’s lights out for you.”

And she pulled the sleeping mask down, leaving him in the dark.

-

There was no plan. There never was when it came to Jeon Jungkook. You just knew you would end up in some shit whenever you stepped into his place. Like tying him naked to a chair and making out with him while he was blindfolded. You loved the feeling of dragging your nails over his skin. He slipped into the darkness much more freely this time, accepting anything you did. You hadn’t removed your turtleneck or undergarments yet. It added to the ambiance. He could feel the shape of your body but not your skin and it was driving him insane. His breath caught. His body went tense.

You dragged your nails down his chest and followed it with your tongue, slithering down his legs.

His gasps were slowly turning into whines.

You pressed your hand against his hard abdomen.

You lowered your head and drenched his cock with your spit. He wasn’t hard and yet he moaned to the ceiling as you swallowed him, guiding him down your throat with your tongue. You didn’t need to use your hands. You toyed with his thigh, spreading your fingers out over muscle and tapping your manicure against his skin. Moved your head back and forth. He grew harder and harder in your mouth. You kept it soft and excessively wet, sucking out the air at the back of your throat.

His moan rocked through the chair.

You worked him to full hardness rather quickly before pulling off.

“Fuck, what…?”

“Surely you didn’t think it was going to happen right away,” you said with your tongue against his balls. You held his wet dick up and out of the way, drawing one of his balls into your mouth and swirling your tongue. His whole body went stiff. You stroked the underside of his shaft at the same time.

“C-Careful.”

You held it delicately with your teeth and said, “Sensitive?”

He made a sharp sucking sound with his cheek. “A-Ah…”

You eased, pulsing, testing the limit. Licking at the same time. Jungkook made an odd moan-yelp.

“I dunno why, the biting kinda feels good…”

You changed sides, working him with your tongue first. Took him in your mouth, sucking back and forth. Tugging a little at the same time. His erection became hot. You slid your hand up and down, keeping him hard as you chewed lightly on one of his balls.

“Feels tingly…” he murmured, more to himself than you.

You let go and slid your tongue below his balls. Pinched the skin in between your teeth and placed a little more pressure there. His breathless gasp quickly turned into a moan as you sucked while jacking him off at the same time, using your own saliva as lube.

“A-ah, fuck, I’m gonna…”

You released your teeth and licked up his balls, up the length, releasing his cock milliseconds before you crammed it down your throat. His thighs snapped against the seat of the chair. He swore, or maybe that was a prayer, but you were busy planting your hands onto his thighs and sucking him off. You took him deep so he could feel your throat close in, over and over again, keeping a steady pace while building his orgasm. It was easier using gravity to your advantage. You had to spread your knees and hold your torso up so you didn’t hit your chest into anything, but that was easy to adjust to. You slid your tongue along the underside with each descent, hearing his moan drop into a hiss.

“Gonna cum, fuck–”

You pressed your lips into the base of his cock.

You felt his hips flinch and cum shoot into the back of your mouth. It flooded into your tongue, blanketing over the throbbing head of his cock, and Jungkook groaned, his collarbones standing out from the strain. Shoulders and chest tense. His thighs were rock hard in your hands. You felt him twitch. You didn’t move. The wave of orgasm shot up and rolled down, down. Slowly, he relaxed.

You swallowed, savoring it.

He shuddered.

Soft, grazing, lazy. Barely any pressure. You rocked your head up and down, licking up any excess liquid. Your turtleneck was becoming a little too warm. But then that meant your mouth would have to let go of Jungkook’s cock. And he was still hard.

So, that wasn’t happening.

You moved your hands from his thighs.

“Holy…” He panted, struggling to breathe. “Fuck, that feels good… Aaah…”

You drew your knees together. If he was paying attention then he would have heard you, but he was too busy basking the high of the afterglow. Or your mouth was too distracting. Both were possible. You drew closer. Took him a little deeper. Closed your eyes. Time slipped away. You forgot your own heartbeat, becoming one with the rhythm you commanded. Curling tongue. Excessively wet. A tight pocket in the darkness. Licking the lower base as your throat pulsed around the swollen head, and you heard his moan vibrate to the walls, the sound spreading and then falling, drenching you in his wanton want.

He came again.

You didn’t stop.

In fact, you reached between your legs to join him.

“Are you…? O-Oh, fuck. I can hear it…”

You spread your knees and slid two fingers into your pussy, letting it make a loud, wet sucking sound as you pulled out. It was more fun than pleasurable, really. The real pleasure was letting him listen to you fingering yourself while you continued sucking him off. You placed a hand on the seat of the chair to brace yourself, increasing the speed and saliva. It was noisy and obscene, the repeated sticky separation sounds, and you kept going, getting closer, your back tingling, blood burning, closer, tucking your fingers in between your upper folds instead, rubbing your clit, feeling electricity crawl up your abdomen, closer.

You pinched your clit and moaned around his cock.

Jungkook threw his head back and groaned, his hips rising into your face.

You focused only on the head. He orgasmed with a hiss and an intelligible moan, and you tucked him all the way in the back of your throat. Thankfully you didn’t choke. The volume wasn’t as much as the first one. You locked your limbs and felt your own orgasm seep into your bones, setting your nerves on fire in heated blood. Your grip on the chair tightened, unwilling to collapse under the pressure. Wave after rolling wave, scalding you with ebbing ecstasy, and you endured it while licking him clean, feeling reborn. Proud of the session.

Pretty good if you could say so yourself.

You finally removed your mouth, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. You stood up, somewhat shakily, and righted yourself before plucking off the blindfold. You tossed it to the ground. Jungkook’s eyes were still closed. His black hair was damp with sweat. His chest, too, shone with a thin sheen of perspiration.

He panted, “Kiss me.”

“Do you want me to untie–”

“Fuckin’ kiss me now.”

-

She slid onto his aching, trembling thigh. Her lips felt like heaven in the hellfire, gentle against his racing pulse, pressing against his greedy mouth over and over. He could taste a hint of himself in her saliva. He felt the slick lips of her pussy on his upper thigh and he hissed between breathless breaths, “Rub on me, ugh, fuck, yes,” and she curled her fingers into his sweaty hair, pulling him to her. Tugging. Ah. Sweet, delicious pain.

He forgot he was tied up, really. It was just part of him now.

“Take it off,” he grumbled, realizing she was still wearing her turtleneck. It was a nice fabric but he wanted her naked. “How the fuck… How are you not hot in that?”

“I was busy sucking your dick,” she laughed, and he opened his eyes to see her peeling it off her body, crossing her arms. Pulling up and back to reveal her torso. He had seen it a few times already and every time he marveled. She tugged it off her head. It messed up her claw clip, but she looked better that way. More beautiful in chaos. She tossed the clothing aside and unclicked the front clasp of her bra.

Jungkook was convinced bras were made by the devil, but he couldn’t deny the magic of a front-clasp bra opening the gateway to heaven.

“Like what you see?”

He stared at her. She looked amused.

“Put them in my face right now.”

There was a certain rapport when it came to power dynamics. He didn’t know anything about that. Maybe he would get better at it. She laughed and lifted herself, dropping the bra to the ground, half-standing with one knee on the chair, and scooped up her perfect breasts to present those delicious-looking nipples to his face. He didn’t even care that he couldn’t use his hands. Ugh, they were just so perfectly soft and supple. She tasted so good. Was it creepy to think her skin tasted good? He didn’t care. She rubbed her breasts against his cheeks as he sucked, licked, buried his face into them like an excited puppy.

“I think we are losing the plot here,” she joked.

“Don’t talk to me,” Jungkook sighed, self-asphyxiating with her tits.

“I should be taking them away from you if I was really being dominant.”

He unstuck himself and planted his chin in her cleavage, staring up at her.

She looked down, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

He could have offered a witty comeback or even put on his best puppy eyes to convince her otherwise, but instead he stared into her eyes in stunned silence. His limbs were burning, now not from arousal but longing. Maybe also soreness. But mostly longing to hold her. The puddle between his legs was also alarming. His sweat was becoming cold as the seconds marched on.

“Don’t go.”

She tilted her head. “Did you think I was going to walk off and leave you tied to the chair?”

“What?” He frowned. “You’d never do that, right?”

She blinked at him.

“Right?”

“Maybe when you have more practice,” she chuckled. “What did you mean by, don’t go?”

The red mood lighting made her ethereal. “Don’t go home. Stay here with me.”

A pause. “In your house?”

“Yeah?” The way she said it made him question it too. “Uh, yeah?”

She sucked in a breath while pressing her tits against his face. “Huh, I dunno… That’s usually how women get murdered.”

“Hey!” He wiggled in place, or at least as much as he could. “I let you tie me up. You should trust me by now!”

She made a thinking expression. He would be much angrier if her soft breasts weren’t caressing his cheeks. “Mmm, okay. As long as I get to tie you up before we sleep.”

His eyes went wide. “What?!”

“I’ll even put a bow on your head. You would look really cute.”

“You can’t–”

She laughed. “I’m joking. I wouldn’t do that. It’s dangerous.” She slid down his body and pecked him on the lips. “Let’s get you outta these ties.” She was about to say something else but then stopped. Confusion fluttered over her features. Her eyes cast downwards. He felt his cheeks flush warmly.

“Uh.”

“Why are you hard?”

“No reason.”

Those shadowed eyes drifted back up. She gave him a slow, knowing nod. “Noted.” She got up to undo the velvet ribbon ties.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he called out.

“I don’t,” she said from behind him, loosening the knot before rubbing his forearms. “You give them to me.”

Oh shit.

He did.

And would continue to.

--

masterpost

[bunny-jpeg]

the cost of what is to come, max v.- you felt anxious, beyond anxious. the type of anxiety that seemed to tighten your throat and made every nerve feel hyper active. especially knelt there on the bed, waiting.

"you've been quite the bad girl." max's voice was honey in your head. you watched him reach for you, his hand on your jaw ever so delicately, "but that's good for you. because i quite enjoy breaking stubborn girls." and you watched him lick his top lip, something shuddered inside of you.

there were boys, and there were men. and then there was max verstappen.

the kisses trailed from your shoulder to your jaw to your mouth. his lips captured yourself and you reached out to touch him. but before you should hold onto his shoulders. he snatched you by the wrists and broke the kiss.

"tsk, tsk, tsk." he said lowly, "i own you, you don't own me." his blue eyes gleamed with something that made your stomach twist. he gave a smile at you, "i get to touch what it mine. you signed over that a long time ago."

a series of bets and a mounting metaphorical debt. max pushed you to be the best mechanic and you pushed him to make your services worth it. and as he racked up points and trophies, he only became more and more a part of your life. redbull's plucky little mechanic, turned a stress toy for the four time world champion. you whined and he shut you up with another kiss.

already nude, he laid you out on the bed. his t-shirt off over his head. his gaze hungry on you. he never considered himself a gambling man except when it came to risky moves on the track. but you were the best gamble he ever made. he could only let out a small groan as you undid his expensive belt. as he got his jeans off, he captured your lips once more. he pinned you down onto the plush bed further. he pressed his weight against you and rubbed his barely clothed cock up against you. the kisses were feverish, he wanted you. he wanted you badly.

you had been on his mind for hours now, the post-race press conference went by so slowly when he knew you were tending to his car. your baby as you called it. well maybe it was time to give you an actual baby. his baby. he peeled off his briefs. you got a good look at his cock and you swallowed at the sight of him. so powerful on top of you, his expression was near unreadable. but you felt a slight bit of fear in your soul. max could be scary. a lion had two sides after all. the relaxed creature and the hunter, both with their own aura of dominating power. he took you by the hips and brushed his cock up against you. you swallowed and arched your back a little.

"be loud." he said, "no one can hear you. i don't think anyone would care to hear you. but not me, i love hearing those noises you make." he said as he sank his cock into you. you let out a squeak-like moan and it just shook max to his core.

he loved the sight of your soft breasts slightly bounce with each of his his thrusts. he eyed your form up and down, admired every inch of skin. he wanted to mark you up. he wanted to cover every inch of skin in his affection, his devotion.

he wanted to scare off every son of a bitch on the grid, from team principals to engineers to the drivers. max might have to get a little creative over the holidays to figure out how to keep you from slipping between his fingers. he felt the hunger in his jaw, down to the bone. in his teeth, he wanted to leave heavy hickies on your skin. he wanted to make your neck a masterpiece of his design. he held onto you hips tighter, lifted your hips a little to get a better angle. he let out a heavy groan at the sensation of you. you felt like a dream, he fucked you the way he drove cars. with a certain level of skill that had you quivering. needy for more.

that was how he was able to interweave himself into your life so tightly. become a fabric of your reality and leave you panting for more. he exhaled deeply, his cheeks grew slightly pink from the feeling of it all, "you feel amazing. you always feel amazing. you have no idea what you do to me. you've changed me, and i think it's only fair that i get to change you." cryptic were his words, but they left you moaning, pathetic little pants as he fucked you roughly.

you made him a champion, now he was going to make you a bride.

trade the coveralls for a white dress, and the grime under your nails for a shiny diamond ring. he was sickeningly obsessed with you, he wanted to be entrenched in your world that he could never leave or fear that everything would collapse. he worked his hips against yours and took in the sight of your beauty as he fucked you with heavy strokes.

"please, max." you said pathetically as he continued to fuck you. his movements quick and hit in all the right places. you held onto the hotel sheets under you and let him have his wicked way with you. you couldn't help yourself. you knew were so past the line of professionalism and there was no turning back. even if you wanted to, you knew deep down there was zero chance in hell that max would ever let you slip away. not when your entire being pulled him in. he wanted you often, he wanted you in ways that would scare most. it was a deep throb in you that left you yearning for him. it was why you worked on his cars so well and why you let him strip you down and take you apart after every race.

why his words seem to float in your head as he worked your achy cunt to a full hot bliss. he groaned and you whimpered. he leaned forward and you grasped his shoulders, this time he let you touch him. your lips collided and max continued to fuck you. he continued to stretch your cunt perfectly for him. you gave him everything and he in turn would give you everything. the luxury, the wealth, the baby and the last name.

"you sound beautiful when you say my name. it sounds right on your mouth." he licked his lips as he continued to bully his cock inside of you. he felt your cunt clench around him as he worked against you. he made a nice mess of your pretty pussy. not that anyone else was going to be touching it, not while he was still upright and breathing. he went in for another searing kiss. his pace started to stagger.

his thrusts became erratic and his mind only focused on one thing. filling you until there was no room left. you were perfect, the mechanic who could save redbull. too bad you wouldn't have a lengthy career. max doesn't want you out of his grasp, at most an arm's length. you didn't need to worry about money or anything, max had enough for you, him and your growing family. and that lingering through made him fuck you faster and harder.

the bed hit against the wall as he hit against the right spots, as he watched you shudder and arch your back. his pants were heavy as he eyed the sharp rise and fall of your chest. it was a heated affair, one that max would add to the long list of other times he fucked you into a total submission.

"you drive me crazy."

"please, max." you tried not to be too loud. he captured your lips once more and you clenched around him. your nails dug into his shoulders as he worked you slick cunt. the thrum of pleasure in your core went to your brain. and soon enough you finished. you moaned into his mouth as he just shuddered against you.

his movements only got faster and he tensed up around you. he pressed into you further and with a few more heavy, heated thrusts he finished inside of you. he looked you in the eyes as he finished, his expression shifted as he came. his eyes closed for a moment as he rode out his climax.

"fuck... there we go." he groaned as he relaxed a little bit. he looked at you once more and kissed you deeply. worth it, it was all worth it. he held you face for a moment.

you looked at him with a blissed out expression. and like a good girl (that max knew you were) you nodded, "yes, max."

afterwards he held you, his grip on you was a little tighter. he kissed you neck softly and watched you breathe heavily. he wasn't done with you yet, not quite. he whispered in your ear as he held you from behind.

"it's the end of the season, my dear. why don't you come home with me? i'll show you all that monaco has to offer, and maybe we'll make another deal. if i don't get you pregnant by the new year, you can stay with the team. but if you do, you become my wife." <3

[cherie-doll]

☾ Headcanon: COD Men As Werewolves

⨯ Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

His breathing becomes ragged, hot breath fogging the clouded reflection in the mirror. His body trembles and his knuckles turn white as he grasps the mirror edges. His mind blurs as he tries to concentrate on his image in the mirror, with each pounding heartbeat, his pain grows unbearable.

He could feel the fur prick through his skin as it covered his body, a set of sharp teeth grew, and pointed claws broke through the pads of his fingers. His gaze became unclear, turning into something less than human before he lost all focus.

Ghost

He for some reason gets a lot of scars and scratches from accidentally clawing at himself

He hasn't been a werewolf for long so he's still getting used to it just like you are

You treat his injuries yourself because you can never decide whether you should take him to the doctor or the veterinarian

Soap

You find him acting odd, like truly doing the weirdest things. But when is he ever normal?

That new chewing toy you bought for your puppy? Suddenly you find Johnny with it in the living room gnawing on it, at least it's not your furniture

Will randomly lick/affectionately bite you

Dude imagine how cool he looks in his werewolf form with his mohawk

Gaz

Kyle absolutely despises being a werewolf in summer, you can always be sure to find him soaking in the bathtub all day

You both sleep with a fan in summer, just sleeping next to him makes you feel the heat radiating off of him, you can't even imagine how he must feel :(

But it's an advantage in fall and winter, practically turns into your personal heater in winter, just cuddling together the entire time, and since he bought the best conditioner for his fur it's so soft

Roach

Loves you stroking his ears and tail, gets highly sensitive with his tail

He frequently runs off for days and when he comes back he always brings something for you

You don't want to hurt his feelings so you have to pretend that the dead bird he brought you is the best gift you've ever received whilst he watches, tail wagging and seemingly content :(

Alejandro

Imagine how much hair would be on his chest ૮꒰´ ཀ ྀི꒱ა

Sheds everywhere

You have to help him shave it because the amount of thick hair he grows is insane and even gets in the way sometimes

He'll be getting it stuck in zippers, tangling it even more when he tries to cut it with scissors

Completely gives up wearing clothes and just stays inside the entire time because he overheats with clothes on

Phillip Graves

He gets territorial and stays lurking near the house, the mailman can't even come near to deliver the mail

Bares his teeth and being downright mean so you can't have anyone over but turns soft for you

And when he gets hungry you make him eat outside, you can’t stand watching him eat raw meat or making a mess inside

Keegan

Likes scaring the living daylights out of you

Sometimes it's easy to forget your boyfriend is a werewolf when he doesn't tell you exactly when he transforms

He laughs seeing your sleepy eyes widen in surprise when you wake up to a beast in your bed

He stalks around at night scaring kids too, loves scaring the little shits knowing no one is going to believe them if they ever told

König

He's strong but imagine how much stronger König becomes when he transforms

It sounds hot but also imagine how much of an inconvenience it is for him

He's constantly breaking doors when pushing/pulling on them, breaking chairs, can't get a single pair of pants or shirt on without it ripping

Horangi

Likes to tease you by biting or nipping at your skin, especially in sensitive areas like your neck, chest and thighs

His nighttime activity increases, when you wake up in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed cold and empty, you open the Find My app to track him and find that he decided to take a walk around town and even went out to eat

Sometimes you accompany him but it's almost every night he does it and you can't keep up

Nikto

He's actually really gentle as a werewolf

Although you're used to his big body weighing down on you

Since his claws grow out he has you filing them down and clipping them, as a joke you sometimes paint them and he has to go around looking like a menace until someone sees his hot pink nails

Is very protective of you, like a lot more

Won't let you go anywhere by yourself, especially at night and is by your side 24/7

[genshinluvr]

Burning Desire 4

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Al Haitham x Isekai'd!Reader)

Summary: Awaken from your slumber due to the burning pit in your stomach, you decide to take a shower early morning, hoping it will cool you off. After your shower, you leave your bedroom to see a shirtless Al Haitham reading a book at your desk. You weren't sure why Al Haitham is in your bedroom, but he has his reasons for visiting you.

Note: I've been busy dealing with some things outside of my fanfics, and I haven't been able to type as much as I would like. Therefore, Al Haitham's smut is a bit shorter than the previous routes in the Burning Desire smut series. Again, the smut routes aren't supposed to be as long as the first "chapter" of the series and Crave. It's pure smut and has no plot, so some smut will be shorter depending on how it flows. As previously stated in my previous smut-fics, I tried to keep the story as gender-neutral as possible. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, as per usual ✨ slight masturbation/groping (?), orgasm denial, mating press, fingering, handjob, cervix fucking, slight choking, doggy style, slight overstimulation, slight voyeurism

Word Count: 4.1k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

You tried to sleep, but the burning pit in your stomach was unbearable. You’re worn out from getting dicked down by Scaramouche and Tighnari, and you can use some sleep. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t look like that’s going to be happening any time soon. You would fall asleep for a few hours but wake up to the unbearable throbbing between your legs. You need someone to drill their cock into you, or else you will go crazy. 

The first thing you did when you wake up for the umpteenth time in the middle of the night is to masturbate. It provided a small amount of relief, but the same feeling will come back. The same burning desire will hit you like a sumpter beast, causing you to writhe around on your bed despite having your fingers buried deep in your entrance and cumming multiple times. Okay, well, ‘multiple times’ is a bit of an exaggeration— three times is the correct number.

Archons, you even went as far as taking a cold shower at four in the morning while everyone was still sleeping in their beds. You’re hoping the men who have a keen sense of hearing and smell don’t wake up to your activities. That would be even more embarrassing. The shower lasts almost two hours— your body’s really hot, and the cold water raining down on you feels so nice that it nearly makes you forget that you inhaled a large amount of aphrodisiac. 

You step out of your bathroom, hair still drenched from your shower. You stop in your tracks when you see the Scribe sitting at your desk, reading a book. You blink at Al Haitham and peek at the clock in your bedroom. It’s almost six in the morning, and yet the gray-haired man is in your bedroom, wearing nothing but gray silk pajama pants.

You rub your eyes and gingerly sit on your bed. “Al Haitham? What are you doing up around this time?” You ask, getting under your blanket.

You squeeze your eyes shut briefly when the ache between your legs spikes up when you press your thighs together. You’re hoping that Al Haitham either leaves your room soon or he buries his cock inside you until you wake up everyone in the abode. Your mind is constantly racing ever since you breathe in the aphrodisiac, and you can never get peace of mind. Al Haitham closes his book, turning to face you and spreading his legs wide open. You gulp and look away, running your hands through your damp hair to distract yourself from looking at the faint tent forming in his pajama pants. 

Al Haitham rests his arm on the armrest, staring at you intently in the darkness of your room. Light peeking through the blackout curtains of your room, illuminating your bedroom. You gulp and hug your knees to your chest, waiting for Al Haitham to say something. Al Haitham sighs and leans back in his seat; you can see his muscles ripple and flex whenever he moves. Archons, he is so handsome. 

“I wanted to check up on you. I didn’t think you’d be awake so early,” says Al Haitham, crossing his arms over his chest.

Archons. The way his biceps flexes when he crosses his arms over his chest. You gulp and lie down, not taking your eyes off the gray-haired Scribe. Why is Al Haitham acting so casual with you when he knows you’re having inner turmoil. You want to skin yourself alive for feeling this way. The intense need for someone to be buried balls deep inside your entrance until you’re crying and begging for them to give you a break.

You nod, trying to act casual. “My bedroom was hot, and I was sweating in my sleep. I didn’t want to lay in a puddle of sweat, so I went to take a shower,” you lie.

Al Haitham hums, nodding slowly. You curl up into a ball, waiting for Al Haitham to leave your room. Judging by the way he’s sitting on the chair near your desk, you don’t think he will be leaving your bedroom any time soon. Al Haitham suddenly stands up, stretching his arms in the air and yawning. You blink and quickly look at the tent in his pants before looking away before Al Haitham can catch you in the act. You pretend to look at the clock, gesturing to it.

“I think you should go to bed. It’s still early in the morning,” you say, pulling your blanket up to your chin and closing your eyes. 

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you. “Oh? You want me to leave already? I thought you would want me to help you with your problem,” Al Haitham says nonchalantly, walking toward your bed.

You crack an eye open and nearly jump out of your skin when you see how close he is to you. Al Haitham kneels on your bed and towers over you, caging you against your bed with his arms on both sides of your head while you look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Al Haitham tilts his head, cocking an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to respond. 

You clear your throat, snuggling deep into your blanket to distract yourself from Al Haitham’s stare and the dampness pooling in your underwear. Al Haitham is so freaking breathless— the veins on his arms are driving you crazy. He’s so handsome, and he knows it. Al Haitham clears his throat, grabbing you by the chin to have you look into his eyes. 

“Are you going to answer my question or not?” Al Haitham asks.

You nod sheepishly, making Al Haitham look at you skeptically. 

“Is that a yes to the question I just asked or the previous question?”

You stare at Al Haitham and rub the back of your neck. “I do want you to help me, but it’s embarrassing, and it’s too early in the morning to be having sex,” you mutter.

Al Haitham clicks his tongue and releases your chin, now sitting at the edge of your bed. You sit up and rest your chin on your knees, staring at the gray-haired man before you. Al Haitham leans back and runs his fingers through his bedhead. Archons, his bedhead is too cute. For someone who’s aching to get railed, you act like a prude— despite having two men fucking a couple of orgasms from you.

Al Haitham strokes his chin. “You don’t have to worry about waking the others if you can keep your volume to a minimum,” Al Haitham comments, grabbing at his aching cock through his silk pajamas.

You gulp and watch Al Haitham stroke and squeeze his cock. Heat rushes to your cheeks when you realize Al Haitham is staring at you, waiting for you to respond. How are you going to keep your volume at a minimal volume when you have something thick or long pistoning into your entrance?

“But there are people in the abode that have a keen sense of hearing, Al Haitham,” you whine.

Al Haitham squeezes the base of his cock through his pajama pants, grunting quietly when you whine his name. You cover your face, trying to get the image of Al Haitham hovering over you out of your head. Al Haitham releases his dick and crawls over you, pinning you down on your bed.

“So? What are they going to do about it, hmm? I am helping you, aren’t I?” Al Haitham mutters, brushing the tip of his nose against your cheek before peppering kisses on your cheek.

Al Haitham is not wrong about that. The aphrodisiac is still in your system, and it doesn’t seem like it’s not going away any time soon. Plus, the aphrodisiac is just the same as it was when the symptoms kicked in. You don’t think you can handle the thought of Al Haitham plowing into you while the others are asleep and when Gorou and Tighnari can wake up to the littlest sounds coming from you.

You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around Al Haitham’s shoulders as he kisses down your neck, lightly nibbling and biting your neck. You shiver and dig your nails into his back as Al Haitham latches his lips into your collarbone, lightly sucking on it. 

Al Haitham murmurs against your neck, “If you want me to stop, let me know, and I’ll stop.”

You run your fingers through Al Haitham’s hair, tilting your head to the side to give him some room to suck on your neck.

You let out a shaky sigh when he sucks on your neck. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper, tugging on his hair.

Al Haitham smirks against your neck and stops sucking on your neck. Al Haitham grabs your blanket and rips it off your body, leaving you only in your oversized t-shirt. You hear a sharp intake of breath from Al Haitham when he sees that you’re not wearing anything underneath the large t-shirt.

“You naughty little thing,” Al Haitham whispers, shaking his head with a smirk.

You whine and hide your face with one hand while attempting to pull your shirt down to cover your exposed groin with the other. Al Haitham clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval. Al Haitham grabs you by your wrist and pins them over your head with one hand while lifting your shirt until your chest is exposed. 

Al Haitham spreads your legs with his knees before kneeling between your legs. Al Haitham releases your shirt and lifts your leg. Al Haitham swipes his index and middle finger up your wet entrance, making you jolt with surprise. You tremble beneath Al Haitham as he continues to coat his fingers in your slick, muttering about how wet you are for him. 

“Al Haitham, please…” You trail off, gazing at him through your lashes.

Al Haitham plunges his middle and ring finger into your entrance. You tense up and let out a choked gasp. You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, but you couldn’t free yourself from Al Haitham’s iron grip. You wrap your legs around his waist as he pulls his fingers out from your entrance before slamming them back into your gummy walls, making you writhe and arch your back beneath him. 

Archons, you’re so wet that every time Al Haitham thrusts his fingers into your sopping-wet cavern, you and Al Haitham would hear squelching, and your juices would coat the inside of your thighs. Al Haitham groans, feeling how tight you are around his fingers. Your back arches every time Al Haitham’s long fingers jab a particular spot inside you, causing you to choke out a moan and clench around his fingers.

“Al Haitham…” You whimper, attempting to free yourself from his iron grip.

Al Haitham suddenly pulls his fingers out. You nearly whine at the feeling of emptiness. Al Haitham releases your wrists before grabbing your shirt collar with both hands, tearing your shirt in half. You watch Al Haitham toss your shirt to the side carelessly before taking his pajama pants, leaving him only in his black boxers. 

You can see his bulge clear as day— the tent in his boxers is bigger than it was before. Al Haitham cages you against your bed with his arms before pressing his lips against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your bare entrance against Al Haitham’s pulsating cock. The only thing that is getting in the way of you feeling Al Haitham’s cock is his boxers.

Al Haitham breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against your shoulders, breathing heavily. Al Haitham begins grinding his clothed cock against your entrance. You panted, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock rubbed up against your swollen bundle of nerves. You clench around nothing, biting on your lips to muffle your gasps. Al Haitham blindly reaches down to his boxers and begins taking his underwear off and tossing them to the ground beside your bed. You sigh in relief when you feel his hot cock press against your entrance. You peek down to see Al Haitham’s cock— the bulbous tip is red with need, pre-cum beading at the tip. 

Al Haitham slowly ruts his cock against your entrance, coating the base of his cock in your essence. You reach down to grab his cock by the base, gently squeezing them. Al Haitham hisses and squeezes his eyes shut. You gently stroke his cock before rubbing the mushroom tip of his cock with your thumb, spreading his pre-cum around. 

“You’re incredibly sensitive, Al Haitham,” you murmur, giving his cock a light squeeze.

Al Haitham hisses again before burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting heavily against your neck as you continue to stroke his cock. You stoke his throbbing dick slowly, making sure to lightly squeeze the tip and rub the tip of your thumb over the mushroom tip. Al Haitham releases a guttural moan and bucks into your hands, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you tighten your grip around his red cock. 

You continue pumping Al Haitham’s throbbing member until Al Haitham lets out a choked moan. Al Haitham grabs your wrist and forcibly removes your hand from his dick. Al Haitham gulps, pinning your hand to your side as he tries to catch his breath. 

You press your lips into a thin line. “I almost made Al Haitham cum.” You can’t help but feel proud of yourself for being able to (almost) have Al Haitham cum with just your hands.

Al Haitham looks at you and slowly stands, brushing his messy hair from his face. Al Haitham grabs you by the waist and pulls you down. You squeal and gasp when Al Haitham slaps your already aching entrance. Al Haitham grabs your engorged bundle of nerves and pinches them hard. You grit your teeth and curl your toes, legs shaking as Al Haitham rubs the nub at a fierce pace. 

You grab Al Haitham’s wrists, attempting to get him to stop before he makes you cum. “Stop, stop, stop, stop! I’m going to cum if you don’t stop!” You whine as you flail your legs around.

The tight knot forms at the bottom of your abdomen, getting incredibly tighter while Al Haitham continues to pinch, twist, and rub your swollen, aching nub. You shudder and tense up, preparing yourself for your impending orgasm. When the tight knot in your lower abdomen is about to snap and unleash the floodgates, Al Haitham releases your throbbing nub.

You look at Al Haitham, eyes wide and chest heaving with heavy breaths. “Al Haitham! Why’d you stop!?” you whine softly, grabbing his wrist and shaking his arm.

Al Haitham spreads your legs and slaps your sopping-wet entrance, making you involuntarily clench around nothing. You rest your head on your pillow and close your eyes, trying to catch your breath while Al Haitham coats the underside of his cock with your slick. You gasp softly when you feel Al Haitham’s hot cock rubs against your puffy entrance.

You’re not sure if you’re feeling extra needy because of the aphrodisiac or if it’s because Al Haitham denied you of your orgasm. Maybe it’s both. Al Haitham lifts your legs by the thighs, having your calves rest on his shoulders as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance. Archons, this isn’t going to be the first time getting railed by your boyfriends, but for some reason, you can’t help but feel nervous about it. Sensing your anxiousness, Al Haitham kisses the back of your calves and gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You smile at Al Haitham and swallow your saliva. You grip Al Haitham’s thighs, gently digging your nails into his flesh. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and brace yourself. Al Haitham rubs the bulbous tip of his dick against your fluttery entrance before slowly entering your drenched hole. Your jaws drop, letting out a string of moans when Al Haitham’s mushroom tip breaches your entrance. You unintentionally clench your thighs around his waist, tensing below Al Haitham the more he sinks his cock into your gummy walls with a semi-loud moan.

You whimper when Al Haitham’s thick cock stretches you out. You squeeze your thighs around Al Haitham’s waist, causing him to stop halfway in your hot cavern. Al Haitham pants, balling his hands into fists beside your head. Al Haitham closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of your gummy walls clamping around his throbbing dick.

Al Haitham leans over you, his chest pressing against your face while he buries his face into your pillow. “Try to relax for me, baby. Please,” Al Haitham rasps, reaching down to grab your hand.

You whimper, holding Al Haitham’s hands and interlocking your fingers with his. “I-I’m trying,” you whisper, eyebrows furrowing while trying to relax and adjust to Al Haitham’s size.

Al Haitham nudges his nose against yours, his lips ghosting over yours. Al Haitham presses his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers when he sinks further into your heat. You wrap your legs around Al Haitham’s slim waist, heels digging into his ass cheeks. Al Haitham grunts into your mouth, balls deep inside your entrance. 

Al Haitham stretching your hole is painful— you could’ve sworn that if Al Haitham was any thicker than he already is, he’d stretch you out so much that your entrance would rip to shreds. You can literally feel the skin stretch to accommodate his girth. You wrap your arm around Al Haitham’s shoulders while squeezing Al Haitham’s hand with the other. 

Al Haitham gently thrusts forward to test the waters. You clench around Al Haitham’s cock, panting into his mouth. Al Haitham pulls away from the kiss and kisses your jawline while pressing his chest against yours, refusing to release your hand. Your thighs are shaking as you try your best to relax and not tense up each time Al Haitham thrusts lightly into you.

Al Haitham can feel you tremble while peppering kisses on your jaws and neck. He gently massages your inner thighs, closing his eyes while trying to adjust to the tightness of your entrance.

You unclench your legs around Al Haitham’s waist and signal him to start. Al Haitham pushes himself off you and kneels between your legs, lifting your legs up, and begins thrusting into your drenched entrance at a steady pace. You pant, eyes rolling to the back of your head every time Al Haitham thrusts in and out of your hole. The veiny base of Al Haitham’s cock rubs against the gummy walls of your warm, tight cavern, sending you to Celestia and back. 

“Fuck, Al Haitham,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut each time Al Haitham buries his cock into you. 

Al Haitham chokes out a moan, hugging your legs to his chest while thrusting. Al Haitham lifts your legs up until your ass is hanging above the bed. Al Haitham leans forward, folding you in half until your feet are above your head. You grunt when you feel the muscles of your thighs strain under the pressure. Al Haitham kisses the back of your calves, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains.

Al Haitham plunges only the tip of his cock in and out of your entrance, making you wince and shudder at the strange feeling. If you could describe how it feels, it feels like Al Haitham is almost scooping your insides out. It’s hard for you to put your finger on it— it’s the best way you can describe it, and it feels strange. You don’t think anyone has ever fucked you with just the tip of their cock.

Al Haitham continues to plunge the tip of his dick into your entrance repeatedly. You tense up, whimper, and clamp your thighs together. Without warning, Al Haitham thrusts his cock all the way into your drooling hole. Al Haitham chokes a moan and collapses on top of you when your gummy walls clench around his member. 

Al Haitham props himself up on his forearms and begins pumping his cock in and out of your entrance. Your thigh muscles strain under Al Haitham’s weight, making you whimper and grunt at the feeling. Al Haitham hooks one leg over his shoulder while wrapping the other around his waist without stopping or slowing down. Al Haitham grabs your throat with one hand before aggressively pressing his lips against yours, quickening his pace.

You bite Al Haitham’s lips, making him growl and slam his dick into you so hard that you see stars dancing behind your vision. Al Haitham swallows your wails as you try to keep your voice down. Much to your dismay, a familiar feeling starts building up in your lower abdomen as Al Haitham continues to abuse your hole with his thick cock sooner than you thought.

You break the kiss, panting and squealing as Al Haitham drills his cock deep into you. “Al Haitham! I’m going to cum,” you whine, weakly punching his shoulders.

Al Haitham slides his hands down from your throat to your groin and slaps your puffy entrance, making sure to hit your bundle of nerves. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, tightening your leg around Al Haitham’s waist. Al Haitham starts rubbing your engorged nub aggressively, making sure to piston his cock into your g-spot. 

Al Haitham leans down and bites your neck hard, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when your gummy walls squeeze his cock so tightly that thick ropes of hot cum spurt into you. You whimper cum around his cock, back arching, chest pressing against Al Haitham’s heaving chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head as stars spin and dance behind your eyelids. You go limp and lay beneath Al Haitham in a daze, trying to catch your breath as your groin continues to pulse.

Al Haitham pulls his cock out from your now-sullied entrance before getting off your bed. You peek at Al Haitham to see him standing at the foot of your bed. Al Haitham slicks his hair back before grabbing your ankles and pulling you toward the edge of your bed. You’re too tired to fight back. Instead, you let Al Haitham do as he pleases. Al Haitham spreads your legs, watching his and your mixed cum spill from your pulsing hole. Al Haitham flips you over on your stomach and bends you over with your ass in the air.

“Another round?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Al Haitham grunts in response before slamming his cock back inside. You squeal and grip your bedsheets hard, burying your face into your mattress as Al Haitham pistons his cock into your entrance. Al Haitham spreads your cheeks, watching his and your cum coat his dick and spill onto your bedsheets. The only thing Al Haitham hears are the sounds of your moans and whimpers. Something in the corner of Al Haitham’s eyes distracts him for a moment. Al Haitham looks up to see your bedroom door cracked open and a shadow standing at the doorway. The shadowy figure watches Al Haitham pistons his cock in and out of your sulled, pulsating entrance. Al Haitham smirks at the person, grabs a handful of your hair, and pulls you back toward his chest. You groan and close your eyes, wrapping your arm around his neck while digging your nails into your thighs. Your gummy walls pulse around Al Haitham’s cock as you whimper and writhe in Al Haitham’s grasp. Al Haitham doesn’t take his eyes off the shadowy figure, making sure to give the unknown person a show.

Al Haitham hisses when you clench around his cock, taking his attention away from the unknown person at the door and down at you. You choke out a wail, cumming around Al Haitham’s cock for the second time before going limp while Al Haitham proceeds to pump and grind his cock into your entrance. 

‘I can do this all day,’ Al Haitham pants, filling your hole with cum.

Al Haitham pulls his cock out of your battered entrance, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Al Haitham glances at the door, only to see that the door is now shut. You curl up in a ball and groan when the mixture of your and Al Haitham’s cum spills out of you. 

You rub your eyes, muttering, “Now I know how creampuffs feel.”

Al Haitham snorts and lays beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest, and pulling a blanket over your body. Al Haitham kisses the side of your head and squeezes you lightly. You moan quietly when you feel cum leaking from your hole as the burning pit in your stomach remains ravenous. 

Note: I won't be posting next week because I decided that it would be a perfect time to take a break from writing and posting for this upcoming week. Not only have I been busy, but I haven't had the motivation to write/continue fanfics because of how exhausted I have been lately. But fear not, I will post the week after my break! I'm thinking about continuing Tragic Outcomes, but we'll have to wait and see about that 🤔 Anyway! Ready to vote for the next route in Burning Desire? Remember to vote for who you want to be in the next fic and read the instructions carefully— which should be simple enough, I hope. Vote for the next route [HERE]! Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @ins4nebish, @skyyyyackerman, @w1s-t3r1a, @urlocalheizousimp, @crinklypink, @downbadforurmom, @jadedist, @kaoyamamegami, @vynniis, @4-34-am, @iamcherryblossomsbitch, @starrry-angel, @raidenshogunsboobasword, @worldhardtibbysoft, @sagekun, @imnothungry-45, @lucifarts-boxers, @ieathairs, @akemiixx01, @probablynoposts, @mortallyshamelessfella, @odevote118, @sunlightstarr, @hispasian-otaku, @toobytub, @toshikochan, @firesunflames, @nightlysunn, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @aethersclothes (Taglist for Burning Desire has been fixed and updated— sorry for the inconvenience ;v; )

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[sunnyhvnny]

Hiii!! Could I ask for Jace, Aemond and Aegon and reader is his wife and he has locked her up in their chambers taking her however many times so that he can make sure she will get pregnant soon.

You know, I don't see this combo of men enough.

Tw: dub-con, breeding

Jace apologizes profusely as he locks the chamber doors. It doesn’t mean he won’t go through with it. He thought of it, after all, and knows that as someone in line to inherit the iron throne, he must have children.

His wife knows this, of course. She married a prince, what did she expect? As much as he loves her she has to know that it is her main duty to carry and birth his children.

She eventually stops arguing for him to unlock the door and let her leave after he has spent the entire day and night inside of her. Filling her up with his seed. When he finally takes a break, panting and sweating from fucking her he kisses her gently on the forehead and says that ‘it’ll be over soon.’ And that ‘once you start to swell with my child you will have all the freedom you want.”

It had seemed like the most obvious thing for Aemond to do. He was wed to his wife over two years ago and she had yet to swell with his child.

He was unsure if his seed just hadn’t quickened in her or if, perhaps, she was avoiding caring his child at all and taking measures to avoid doing so. So, he had eventually come to the conclusion that the only way to have his wife swell with his child, with an heir, was to lock her away in their chambers and waste no more time. He would take her several times a day and each time he would make sure to spill inside of her.

When she would whimper from the soreness of their activities or cry from overstimulation, he made sure to pull away for a moment. Holding her and stroking her hair to give her some time before he continued.

He didn’t want her to think of this as a punishment. It wasn’t. It was just another way for them to try and conceive a child and she would see that when she would eventually feel the babe he put inside of her move around for the first time.

Aegon lies to his wife and tells her that it is for the good of the realm that he is doing this. As the eldest son of the King, it is his duty to provide an heir.

“The people need to know that their rulers are stable and the best way to do that is to show them that our line can continue,” he tells her as he turns the key and locks the doors. He’s sure it’s true and something his mother or grandsire might say but that isn’t why he decided to bar his wife in their chambers and confine her to their bed for him to take whenever he pleased. Doing this only made her more accessible to him and his needs.

He hates tracking her down throw the Red Keep for her to satisfy him and he had found that it was tedious to take the servants knowing that they’d cry to his mother. His wife, however, would only be performing her duty.

He doesn’t answer her when she asks when she can leave their chambers. He’s grown accustomed to waking in the morning with his cock hard and rolling over and pushing it into his wife’s cunt. When he’s had a frustrating day, he finds her in their chambers, laying in their bed in only a nightgown, and doesn’t think twice before he’s untying his breeches and climbing on top of her. She always takes him without complaint and with tired sighs or groans. When she does begin to swell with his child he still doesn’t unlock the chamber doors as he has grown accustomed to having her anytime he wants.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 54

Warnings: non/dubcon, child endangerment, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, Andy is nasty in this, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Days pass. Weeks, maybe. There is no dawn or dusk to track the time. You are trapped in this basement, just you and Luna against the monster who took you.

Your only defense is to placate. You keep Andy happy so you can take care of your daughter. You don’t argue with his demands, you don’t push him away as he touches you, you don’t even cry when he fucks you any more. You just close your eyes and let him do what he wants. When you think about it, it’s not too much different than before.

There is no light at the end of this tunnel. If you were to get out of here, your haven is just another prison. Lloyd is only a warden with a different set of rules. For you it doesn’t matter but for Luna, she deserves better than this basement.

Andy snores next to you. It’s time like these you have the urge to hurt him. Your head is filled with violent thoughts. Not just towards your current keeper but to all the men who’ve wronged you. It’s the only strength you can find beneath the crushing weight of futility. Being angry means you still have something left.

A subtle buzz thrums through the mattress. You lean back on your shoulder and peek back at him. His phone vibrates him awake from under his pillow. You remember him tucking it under before he dozed off, likely noticing your straying eyes.

If you could just get it, you could call someone, anyone. But just like everything else, it's unreachable. The door's always locked and the conversation is already decided. He makes the rules and you follow them. It's the only way to keep Luna safe. If it was just you...

You roll onto your back as he grumbles, sliding his hand under the pillow to fumble away the notification. You glimpse the small letters before they swipe away, 'motion detected'. The screen lights up as he rubs his eyes and sits up. He bends over his lap, shrugging as he tries to loosen up his shoulders. 'Doorbell activated', the message pops up as the phone continues to jitter.

"Mmm," he searches around the floor as you sit up, your heart in your throat. Someone's here... "Better see who that is."

He grabs his grey tee shirt and swipes it over his head. You try not to show your eagerness, staying in bed as you watch him on alert. He pulls on his pants and puts the phone in his back pocket before zipping them up. Luna fusses and begins to babble. You move towards the crib and he raises a palm to wave you back.

"I got her," he goes to her as you stand, tense as he reaches in to pick her up, "shh, sweetie, daddy's got you--"

"Andy, please, answer the door," you approach him and he turns his back to you, keeping your daughter out of your reach.

"They can wait," he says as he bounces her, only for her to erupt into sobs. "Sweetie, shhh, shhh," he hushes as he rocks her, "be good for daddy, okay?"

He continues his efforts as you watch helplessly, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you try to get around him but he continues to block you out. You ball your hands, about to tear your hair out as she wails louder and louder.

"Please, let me take her--"

"Why won't she stop?" He growls, "little brat."

"Andy," you whimper as you grab for her and he elbows you away.

"I'll deal with her," he says, "can't have her making all this racket."

He stomps away from you. You're right behind him as he goes over the kitchenette and opens the lower cupboard with his free hand. He pulls out a chest under there, numbers on dials below the clasp. A lock box. He flips it open and cradles her over it.

"Andy, don't! You can't--"

"She's too loud," he bats you away, "the sooner I get up there, the sooner she can come out."

"Please don't lock my baby up," you beg shrilly, "please, let me take her. I'll get her quiet."

Your skin razes with fire and your lungs fill with acid. You try again to take her and he shoves you away so you stagger and hit the table. It jars your bad hip but you barely notice the pain as Luna's cries drive you to desperation.

"Andy!"

"Shut up!" He snarls as he forces her squirming form into the chest, "she's got about ten minutes of air..."

"Please--"

"I don't need either of you drawing attention. Got it," he braces the lid, "anything happens to me, you won't get her out in time."

Tears swell over and spill hotly as he shuts the lid and spins the dials with his thumbs. You race forward and fall to your knees, clutching at the box.

"Andy, please, I can make her quiet. We'll both be quiet!"

"Shhhhh," he pulls out his phone again, "I know you'll be quiet, honey. If you want to see our daughter again."

You nearly collapse as he spins away. You can only watch him go to the stairs and leave you to your panic. You put your ear to the top of the chest and try to hear her. It's too thick. She's going to suffocate in there. You try to pry the edge open with your nails then stagger to your feet, searching the drawers for anything to get the lid up.

Nothing, there's nothing. Your baby, your baby. You can only think of Luna and the terror of that box. You freeze only as a familiar timber rumbles from above. The walls are padded enough to dampen their words but you know that voice. Harlan...

You wait and listen. Is he looking for you? Down here, I'm down here! You want to run up and bang on the door. Even if they know you're there, they won't know the code and they won't have the time to get her out. So you have to be quiet. You have to wait.

There footsteps pass overhead like a clock counting down. You cling to the chest. Please go. Please, please, please....

You collapse over the chest and hug it. You shake as you listen to the voices above drone through the walls. Your heart beats faster and faster as the second pass. Then, it's silent.

You tremble as you stare up at the ceiling. The door opens and the footsteps come down the stairs. Andy appears, nonchalant and unbothered.

"See, that didn't take very long, did it?"

"Open it," you hiss, "please, my baby, open it!"

"Our baby," he nears and puts his hands on his hips, "don't be so dramatic."

"Please, please," you get up on your knees and grab the front of his shirt, "I'll do whatever you want, honey, please, just take her out."

He huffs and shakes his head. He rolls his eyes as he bends over the box and slowly rolls the dials.

"That jackass and his father," he scoffs as the clasp pops. He stands straight, unconcerned. "Sent them off. He... he never appreciated you. Not like I do."

You flip the lid up and scoop Luna out. She's babbling quieter than before, dazed as you touch her all over, checking her pulse and her temperature. You coo at her and rock her, quaking as your adrenaline recedes. A new wave washes for you, something hotter, something more vibrant. Anger. Hatred. Deep and pure.

You look up at Andy as you embrace your daughter. You will kill this man.

[muiitoloko]

I saw that you've written some stuff about Lionel and Turpin being fathers (which by the way I loved reading them and am still waiting for more content), that made me wonder what Sinclair Bryant would be like if he were a father

Title: The Playful Heart

Summary: Sinclair Bryant’s childlike spirit shines as he and his son embark on imaginative adventures, bringing warmth and laughter into their home.

Pairing: Sinclair Bryant × Fem! Reader & OC

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much! I'm thrilled you enjoyed the Lionel and Turpin dad content! 😊 As for Sinclair Bryant being a father, oh boy, that would be something! I imagine he'd be the kind of dad who's equal parts loving and totally clueless. Like, he'd give his kids books on advanced science when they’re five, and when they cry because they don’t get it, he’d be like, "But it’s fascinating, don’t you think?" He'd probably also lose track of time reading and forget that his toddler is still sitting in their high chair... But his heart would definitely be in the right place! 😅

I might just have to explore that more—thanks for the idea! 😄

Also read on Ao3

You stood in the doorway of the living room, hands on your hips, a bemused smile tugging at your lips as you watched the two men you loved most in this life—your husband, Sinclair Bryant, and your two-year-old son, James Bryant—crawling around on all fours, completely engrossed in their game. The sight of them together, both blond heads bobbing up and down as they moved across the carpet, filled you with warmth. But there was also a fair amount of curiosity as you tried to figure out exactly what they were doing.

“What are you two playing this time?” you asked, amusement lacing your tone as you tilted your head, trying to make sense of the scene before you.

James, ever the enthusiastic little boy, looked up at you with a wide grin, his hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’re dogs, Mommy!” he declared proudly, his voice bubbling with joy. “Daddy says we’re playing pretend to be dogs!”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the declaration. Before you could fully process the idea of your husband and son playing pretend dogs, you noticed Sinclair by the couch, and your confusion deepened.

“Clair?” you called out, your voice carrying a note of disbelief as you saw him crouched near the armrest, his expression entirely too serious for someone involved in such a ridiculous activity.

Before you could say anything else, Sinclair, in all his child-like exuberance, proceeded to lift his leg as if he were a dog marking his territory—on the couch. Your eyes widened in shock, and without thinking, you quickly approached him, your hands pushing against his shoulder as you urgently hissed, “Stop it, Sinclair! What on earth are you doing?”

James, who had been watching his father with rapt attention, burst into a fit of giggles, his laughter filling the room with an infectious joy. “Daddy’s being a doggy!” he squealed, clearly delighted by the absurdity of the situation.

Sinclair looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his blond hair slightly tousled from all the crawling around. “What?” he asked, his tone completely guileless. “Dogs do this all the time, don’t they? I was just showing James how to—”

You quickly cut him off with a mix of exasperation and affection. “Clair, sweetie, we don’t need to teach James how to pretend to pee like a dog. Especially not on the couch.”

Realization dawned on Sinclair’s face, and a sheepish grin spread across his lips. “Ah, right,” he said, his baritone voice tinged with a touch of embarrassment. “Probably not the best idea.”

James, still giggling, crawled over to you, tugging at your pant leg as he looked up with a beaming smile. “Mommy, Daddy’s funny!” he declared, his little face glowing with pure, unfiltered joy.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the situation too ridiculous not to find humor in it. You bent down to scoop James into your arms, pressing a kiss to his soft blond hair. “Yes, Daddy is very funny,” you agreed, your eyes meeting Sinclair’s with a mix of amusement and love.

Sinclair, ever the good-natured father, straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, still grinning despite his earlier misstep. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to find a different game to play,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “Maybe we could be cats instead? They don’t mark their territory quite so… noticeably.”

James clapped his hands in excitement, clearly thrilled at the prospect of a new game. “Cats! Let’s be cats, Daddy!”

You shook your head, still smiling as you watched the two of them. Despite his occasional naivety, Sinclair was a wonderful father—kind, patient, and always willing to dive headfirst into whatever imaginative world James wanted to explore. Even when his ideas went slightly off the rails, as they had today, his heart was always in the right place, and that was what mattered most.

You interrupted their game with a playful smile, stating, “Alright, my little pups—or should I say, cats—it’s time for dinner.” The mere mention of food instantly caught the attention of both Sinclair and James, their heads snapping toward you with identical expressions of eagerness. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how much alike they looked at that moment, their shared love for food shining brightly in their eyes.

“Dinner!” James exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly as he scrambled to his feet, ready to race toward the dining room.

Sinclair, ever the enthusiastic father, followed suit, his long legs easily keeping pace with his son’s hurried steps. He shot you a grin over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll be the fastest cats to the dinner table!” he declared, his baritone voice filled with playful determination.

You shook your head, laughing softly as you followed them into the dining room. Once there, you gently lifted James into his high chair, securing him with practiced ease. Sinclair took his seat next to James, his expression one of eager anticipation as he watched you with the same child-like enthusiasm as his son.

“Smells delicious, love,” Sinclair remarked, his hazel eyes shifting from brown to green in the soft light of the dining room. His nose twitched slightly as he caught the scent of the meal you had prepared, and he offered you a warm, appreciative smile.

“Thank you, Clair,” you replied, feeling a rush of affection for your husband as you served the food. Since your maid was on a well-deserved vacation, you had taken it upon yourself to prepare dinner, and you were glad to see that your efforts were so well-received.

You placed a plate in front of Sinclair, who eagerly leaned in to take a closer look. “Oh, is this your famous shepherd’s pie?” he asked, his tone bordering on reverent as he inhaled the savory aroma.

“Indeed it is,” you confirmed with a nod, moving to serve James his own portion—cut into smaller, manageable pieces for his tiny hands. “And for you, James, I made your favorite—mini shepherd’s pie just for you.”

James’s eyes lit up at the sight of his plate, and he immediately reached for his fork, though his small hand fumbled slightly in his excitement. “Yummy!” he declared, beaming up at you. “Thank you, Mommy!”

“You’re very welcome, sweetie,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his blond head before sitting down to join your two favorite boys.

As the three of you began eating, the dining room filled with the pleasant sounds of clinking utensils, satisfied hums, and, of course, Sinclair’s chatter. He regaled James with stories of dinosaurs, punctuating his words with grand gestures that had James giggling between bites of his dinner.

“And you know,” Sinclair said, leaning closer to James with a conspiratorial air, “Tyrannosaurus Rex had teeth as big as bananas! Can you imagine that? Bananas, James!”

James’s eyes went wide with wonder, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth as he stared at his father in awe. “Really, Daddy?” he asked, his voice filled with amazement. “Bananas?”

“Absolutely,” Sinclair replied with a firm nod, his own eyes twinkling with amusement. “They were big, strong, and very hungry dinosaurs. Just like us when we’re ready for dinner!”

You watched the exchange with a fond smile, your heart swelling with love for your little family. Sinclair might be a bit naive at times, but his ability to connect with James in such a genuine, playful way was one of the things you cherished most about him.

As dinner came to an end, you couldn’t help but notice how much James had eaten, his little tummy full from the meal you’d prepared. He looked up at you with drowsy eyes, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Mommy, that was so good,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleepiness.

You smiled warmly at him. “I’m glad you liked it, darling,” you said, reaching over to gently stroke his cheek. “Now, how about we get you ready for bed?”

James nodded, his head already drooping slightly as he leaned against the side of his high chair. Sinclair, ever the doting father, was quick to scoop his son up into his arms, cradling him close as he stood from the table. “Let’s get you into your favorite pajamas, buddy,” he said softly, his voice soothing and full of love.

You followed them up the stairs to James’s room, where Sinclair gently laid him down on the bed. He then walked over to the dresser, pulling out the pair of dinosaur pajamas that James adored so much. The moment James saw the familiar green and blue pattern, his eyes lit up, and he wiggled in excitement.

“Dino jammies!” James exclaimed, holding out his arms eagerly for Sinclair to help him into them.

Sinclair chuckled as he dressed his son, carefully guiding James’s small arms and legs into the soft fabric. “That’s right, little man,” he said, buttoning up the pajamas with a smile. “The best pajamas for the best little boy.”

Once James was dressed, Sinclair lifted him into his arms again, holding him close as they played a little game of “dinosaur growls,” with Sinclair pretending to be a T-Rex while James giggled and tried to imitate the sound. The room was filled with the sounds of their laughter, a pure and joyful moment that you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt.

But as the playfulness began to wind down and you noticed James’s eyes growing heavier, you stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Sinclair’s arm. “Alright, time for bed, both of you,” you said softly, your tone laced with amusement. “James needs his rest, and so do you, Clair.”

Sinclair looked up at you with a sheepish grin, clearly reluctant to end the fun. “Just one more minute?” he asked, though he was already lowering James into his bed.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss Sinclair’s cheek. “One more minute,” you agreed, your heart full as you watched the two most important people in your life share this special moment.

Sinclair tucked James in, pulling the blankets up to his chin before leaning down to press a tender kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, little dino,” he whispered, his voice full of affection.

James’s eyes fluttered closed, a contented smile on his face as he murmured, “Goodnight, Daddy… Goodnight, Mommy…”

You stepped forward, placing a soft kiss on your son’s cheek as well. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” you whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

As you and Sinclair left the room, closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Despite his occasional naivety, Sinclair was a wonderful father, and you knew that James was lucky to have a dad who loved him so fiercely.

With James now asleep, Sinclair wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you walked down the hallway together. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I think tomorrow, we should play pirates. Or maybe astronauts. What do you think?”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as you walked. “Whatever you decide, I’m sure James will love it,” you replied, knowing that Sinclair’s enthusiasm for playtime was one of the many things that made him such a great father.

As you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him, your eyes filled with love. “You’re an amazing dad, Sinclair,” you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “James is so lucky to have you.”

Sinclair smiled down at you, his hazel eyes filled with warmth as he held you close. “I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, his voice deep and sincere. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

And as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a loving embrace, you knew that there was no place you’d rather be than right here, in the arms of the man you loved, in the home you had built together, with the son who had brought so much joy into your lives.

[mimisplayground]

Captain Price, Brat Tamer Extraordinaire

tags: brat taming, spanking, thorough prep, ALL ACTIVELY CONSENTED TO, however.., power imbalance, hinted at poly!141, KINDA a free use kink BUT NOT EXPLICITLY, aftercare at its finest, dumbifcation (dick got you stupid), open to ghost sequel :3, power difference but the hot way, he calls you love and sweetie, you call him sir and his rank while hes fucking you so…

uuuhhhh i just REALLY want that old british man…

—————-

Price was an authortive man. He was firm when he spoke and he didn’t take arguments to his orders.

So when the cute little mouthy cadet glares at him and tells him to fuck off, he almost wants to be mad. He acts mad, his voice booming in your face and blood flowing to his dick when he watches you continue to glare even as tears well in your eyes, your bottom lip quivering as you do what your told. Grumbling under your breath.

This becomes a pattern. You listen well for a few days, longest he’s clocked you behaving was a week. Finally you start to get a bit mouthy and him or one of the others end up having to get loud with you to get you acting right. Though he would never forget the time he watched you roll your eyes at Ghost when he had just yelled at you. And he doesn’t think he could get the look of your face crying while Ghost has a hand wrapped around it with your cheeks smushed together out of his mind either.

Certainly not when it’s the main thing he thinks of recently when he’s got his hand wrapped tight around his own dick.

You were a crybaby. An awfully pretty one. But you were a fucking brat, and it left Price stuck with being incredibly turned on and pissed everytime he had a feeling it was gonna be another day where you wanted to run your mouth.

So he was surprised when one day, walking past the room where the men changed, he heard Soap snickering about how he wished he could fuck you, see how long you kept mouthing back. Not surprised at the statement, Price knew the others wanted to get their hands on you. But surprised at how much he himself seemed to contemplate the idea.

Which was what led to you being led into his office when you had next mouthed off. Months of your attitude had worn on him, and when you had told him to “fuck off and shove it up his own ass”, he had quickly and quietly made it clear that he expected you to follow him to his office. You stood there in front of his desk with your arms crossed, tapping your foot and huffing often.

Price stared you down for a moment. “I’m sick of your attitude.” He had practically snarled out. Watching you shift awkwardly, as if the annoyance was fading into worry. “And I think it’s time we take care of it.” Price finished off calmly. It left you nervous, he could tell. He sat down, and he waved his hand for you to come closer.

“I’m not gonna force you. If you say no it’s fine, and you’ll run 20 laps.” He saw you shudder at that. It was by no means a small track. And he knew you had only ever done 10 at the most. But it was the alternative and equal punishment he had picked for if you declined him now. “If you don’t want to do that, you’ll lay across my lap.” He finished, watching to gauge your reaction.

He saw you contemplate. “I want you to know that neither is the easy way out. Your attitude problem will be fixed when Im done with you, one way or another.” You huffed.

“Gonna spank me like you’re my dad or some shit?” You sassed at him, nodding in consent and yelping when he tugs you down and across his lap. “Yea love, that’s the plan.” He laughs slightly as he yanks your uniform pants down, happy he caught you in a moment where you didn’t have the full uniform on and he didn’t have to worry about the padding and belt. Yanking your underwear down with the pants and staring at your ass for a moment.

“Perv.” You mumbled out, yelping when a harsh, sharp smack landed on your behind. You squirmed, and Price kept a hand firm on your back. His hand raised and dropped down again quickly, 5 more smacks coming in succession.

He had never been known for being light with his hands, and it was showing in the discoloration of your behind. You were squirming around, complaining loudly. “You’re a fucking dick! I hate you, you’re awful!” You had been screaming it out practically, and his anger spiked at the idea that someone could be outside thinking he was allowing you to speak to him like that.

“Enough!” He boomed out, the harshest smack he had delivered so far landing right where your thigh and ass met. You yelped harshly and quieted down quickly. You both sat in silence for a moment, Price trying desperately to will away the blood rushing to his cock.

With another blow he had hit the other side in the exact same spot, eliciting a choked noise. He knew he had hit a sensitive spot. You remained quiet, hoping it would grant you mercy.

“Apologize now, and I’ll consider stopping. Want to hear you beg, sweet thing.” He had demanded, watching you profusely shake your head no at his order. “That’s too bad,” he sighs, rubbing your behind softly before pinching a bruise and hearing your whimper “I would’ve even been nice to you after if you listened the first time.”

His assault quickly picked back up, now focusing on the sensitive back of your thighs. He listens to you ramble out pleas of mercy and sobbing out apologies. After a good ten hits he had stopped again, not before pinching the soft spot he had just spanked raw and bruised and listen to your whimper.

You whine and cry, mumbling out apologies that has him sighing and moving you up so you’re sat gently on his lap as he hugs you and soothes your back as you cry and squirm away from where your ass meets his rough pants. He had hugged you to show comfort, but also to hide how flushed his face had gotten listening to your cries and whines.

He really couldn’t hide the bulge in his pants much though, and he full blown jolted when he heard your cries quiet down and felt your hand brush against the bulge. He leans back in his chair, quirking a brow up at your attempt at puppy eyes with him. “Lemme make it up to you…” you mumble out, fiddling with the waistband of his pants and tugging at his shirt to untuck it.

Price stares at you for a moment, sighing before he picks you up and sets you on his desk, grinning slightly at the groan you let out from the soreness of your bottom. He grins harder when you hears your grumble at the fact that he grinned. He unbuckles his belt quickly and yanks it down, and he can’t help but feel pride swell at the squeak you let out before shuffling away.

“It won’t fit,” you said, with so much resolve that Price was almost inclined to believe you. Instead he let out a loud laugh and grabbed your calf, lifting it up gently and watching you hesitantly lean back to lay on his desk. He massages your leg gently, all the way to your upper thigh before quickly giving the other leg the same gentle treatment. “Promise I’ll be gentle preparing you, we’re through most of the punishment part anyways, love.” He has your leg grasped in his hand, pulling it over and leaving a kiss on your ankle. “If you’re ok with it?”

And god grant you mercy, why did a grown man, your Captain no less, have to be so weirdly cute with the way he tilted his head as he asked the question. You stare at him for a moment, and he grins softly when you nod yes to him. He leans over, arms caging you down and leaving kisses all over your face. One of his hands runs down your body, reaching between your legs and toying with your most sensitive spots.

He plays with you until you’re putty underneath him. Gentle and just firm enough to leave you twitching and teetering the edge of release with your brain reduced practically to goo. He’s so composed as he does it too, an arm keeping you pinned so you can’t buck your hips up and his body blocking you from being able to squirm away. Stuck at his mercy and babbling incoherent nonsense and begs.

The hand finally goes further down and the tears coming from your eyes at this point are from ecstasy. A single finger prods at your entrance, and he wishes he could he felt bad about spitting into his own hand to lube it up to push the first digit inside of you with the mix of your arousal to help. But from the way your shuddering and pushing down on his finger, he would argue that you probably didn’t mind much. He was gentle with adding another finger as well, scissoring you open and listening to your loud groans.

He had gotten to three fingers quickly, stretching and thrusting them before you finally managed to cut through your own incoherency. “Please, Captain, Sir, anything, whatever you wan’ me to call you just please,” he was almost impressed with how you drew out the please into a whine, “put it in. Wan’ you in me, now Sir, please.”

That was really the only coherent thought and sentence you seemed able to string together right now. At least thats what Price would guess from the way you went back to your mumbles and moans. So he sighed and kissed at your tears as he pulled his fingers out and lined himself up, pushing in slow and firmly.

By the time he was all the way in he had to stop and give himself a moment to catch his breath. “So tight love, grippin’ me tight.” He was groaning, lifting your legs over his shoulders and into a mating press. He listened to your begs for him to move, to mess up your insides real nice. After a few moments he listened to those pleas.

He thrusts hard, snapping his hips up and stopping after he hears you squeal “It hurts!” He leans down, kissing your tears again. “Need me to stop? Don’ wan’ to hurt you love,” he kisses your lips as you pout.

It takes everything in you to pull a full thought together and even more to get it out. “Hurts where you spanked me…” you groan out, whining when he laughs and pinches a bit at the spot. “Want me to-“ hes cut off at your quick shaking of your head and a small “don’ stop.”

“Whatever you want love, call it part of the punishment.” He leaves another kiss on your lips and goes back to harsh thrusts that leave you screaming and gasping for air under him. He’s firm and rough, but the absolute perfect pace that leaves you downright shaking.

And when his hand comes down to play with your sensitive spots again as he thrusts, you feel the knot inside of you tighten and snap as your eyes roll back and your body arches up off the table and into Price. He holds onto you tight, continuing his thrusts harshly as you twitch under him, your hands reaching up and petting his hair as if to let him know to continue.

“Wan’ cum inside sweetie, can I? Please love…” he groans as you nod yes into his neck and with a final harsh thrust he feels the knot in his own stomach burst as he cums deep inside of you.

You both lay there for a moment, panting harshly with sweat all of the both of you. You look a mess, tear streaks down your face and drool from your mouth. And Price looks up at you questioningly after you giggling when he leaves a kiss on his shoulder.

“Your mustache tickles.” You say with a small smile, and he smiles back before leaning down to kiss you. He picks you up, opening a door to his private room -and straight to the bathroom- setting you down on the toilet.

You sigh in relief when he picks you up and sinks you both into the bathtub. You squirm a bit at the sting of warm bath water on your sore ass, and he kisses the back of your neck as he gets to work washing the both of you.

Price has you sleep in his room, and finds himself snickering for the next week when he catches you opting to stand when able. And holding back almost full laughter when you’re forced to sit at meetings or in vehicles as you squirm around.

And when he hears that your attitude is getting bad with the others again when you’re so sweet and almost obedient in front of him, Price shrugs and tells them to figure it out.

When he walks past the training room to see you in a headlock by Ghost while he’s clearly whispering something mean in your ear (if your tears are anything to go by), hes got a feeling your attitude will be getting a lot better for all of them soon.

————

left it open for a sequel for da cod hoes

PLS HYPE THIS UP MY OLD MAN DESERVES IT. and guys this was like, almost entirely self indulgent so… sowwy :p (pls ignore any typos guys… i literally have no beta reader its just me, my whims, and my prozac getting us through these fanfics)

again, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! SEND IN ASKS!! I WILL GET TO THEM!! im running out of ideas guys pls send asks and requests…

[milkywayes]

As someone who greatly enjoys your turian HCs and given your recent art, I must ask: How do you think Garrus feels about dressing up? Does Shep enjoy seeing him all gussied up? Was he that teen with the turian equivalent of logo tees and beanies? Did his parents dress up for Hierarchy events given Castis’ tier?

ooooh hell yeah thanks for the questions, i love this. gonna be a long one

my thoughts/HCs are as thus:

generally speaking, at least for heterosexual relationships turian women are the ones to approach a potential partner and the males will attempt attracting them by looking good / having a good reputation and accomplishments. long fringes are supposed to impress, hence why only the men evolved them, but it would make sense to me that they’d try to dress up even more to better their chances. picture men in a turian bar posing and wearing their finest outfits to stand out. hell, even turian armor is kind of fancy compared to what other species don. their civvies are very elaborate. it tracks.

but then there’s garrus, who… is just not very interested in all that. i like imagining that the ‘bad turian’ thing goes beyond not being an obedient soldier. so he does not enjoy dressing up. he’s never actively tried attracting a partner like that, and he got shepard without trying, even if he’s still not sure how he pulled that off. to say he’s out of his depth and feeling awkward is an understatement. he got the high rank in the hierarchy in the least straight-forward way imaginable, probably without precedent. he stumbled his way sideways into this gig by uhhh being himself, which is an uncompromising maverick idealist, and by trying to do right by shepard and their mission. not by acting how other turians expected him to.

shepard enjoys it, which is probably the only redeeming factor to garrus. a good chunk of that enjoyment is mirth because she loves when garrus is feeling awkward. it’s a big contrast to his usual confidence and swagger, which she also loves, but rarity’s a factor and she’s gonna take any entertainment she can get from attending these shit functions. (she’s going in utilitarian dress blues, suit and pants combo herself. no jewelry. you can’t make her. lmfao.) that said, he also looks hot in that getup. no complaints from her. or anyone else in attendance. she could point this out to garrus but he wouldn’t believe her. he can be an arrogant bastard, even after getting the scars, but he’s already feeling insecure about his place in the hierarchy and at the event, so there’s none of that right now. at least not for the first half hour. he catches her ogling him a couple times and that does end up boosting his confidence.

as a teen i think he just wore uniforms. i can’t imagine that turian schools don’t have uniforms. i don’t think he’d have had the interest to modify them, he’d have put that energy elsewhere (weapons mods. lol), so you wouldn’t have been able to tell just from looking at him that he’s a bit of a weirdo. but you’d notice fast enough upon meeting him. maladjusted child/teen garrus is important to me. he was lucky he was cute and got good grades.

as for his parents… castis wouldn’t be on palaven often enough to attend lots of hierarchy functions, and while i think mama vakarian had a very respectable tier for her age, only the real high ups who had to impress and be seen by the public really attend galas and such. the couple they did go to, they’d have dressed up, but maybe not as much as i dressed garrus up in that drawing - castis was no advisor to the primarch, and my headcanon for him says he prefers things to be utilitarian. a ‘let my work speak for itself’ kind of guy. he’ll do all that is required, and he’ll be meticulous about it, but he has no love for extravagance.

the funny thing is, castis and garrus are very alike in some ways but then their respective belief systems diverge so heavily that the things they have in common end up working against each other / their relationship lol. they both live for their ideals, they’re stubborn as all get out, they don’t do things just to appease other people.

garrus has more of a swagger though. and he’ll be extravagant - but mostly when showing off his sniping skills. put dangly, sparkly chains on him and he’ll act like a hapless cat that just had something put on their body against their will.

[wing-ed-thing]

Girl's Night (Konoha 12 Girls x Reader x Shizune x Tsunade)

Synopsis: After a long week for everyone, Ino decides it's time for a girl's night.

Word Count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Ino Blackmails Shikamaru, Dinner and Mocktails, Girls Supporting Gals, Men Being Invasive, Discussion of Nicotine Addiction

Notes: DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS TO TRACK DOWN ALL THESE SOLO PANELS???

Tsunade was still screaming by the time the door closed. Ino, still reeling from her latest interaction with the Fifth Hokage, was still frozen outside. You saw her on your way in, unaware of the horrible interaction she was still processing. And when she noted the rather pleasant look in your eye on your way to the office, she tried to warn you, but no warning could prepare you for the absolute hurricane on the other side of the office doors. 

You slumped down next to her, your important documents plopping to the floor next to you. Ino still had hers in her lap, scrunched between her lap and chest as she seemed to curl in on herself. And as your head began to droop, Ino offered you an encouraging pat on the shoulder. 

“It’s not you if that makes you feel any better,” she said, “Lady Tsunade has been chewing out everyone who’s visited her today. The guy sulking before me just left when you came.”

The long groan you let out signaled that, no, it did not make you feel any better. You ran two hands over your hairline, pushing your hitai-ate back along with the sea of strands behind it. You took your loose forehead protector in your hands.

“I need a break,” you lamented, letting your head drop again, “I don’t know how much more I have in me. When the day’s over, I’m going straight home to sleep away the entire weekend…” You groaned into your knees, slowly curling into a tighter and tighter ball.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Ino scrambled from beside you to stand and take you by the hands. “You’re not leaving me.” She heaved you up with a tight grip on your wrists, putting her back into heaving up your dead weight. Ino was surprisingly strong, something you often forgot until you were manhandled by the scrawniest muscles you’ve ever seen. You stumbled to your feet, and before you could slump back down, Ino had picked up your work.

“But Ino—” She slapped the stack of paperwork against your chest despite disgruntled protest. “Ow…”

“No!” she huffed, tugging you down the hall and the stairwell of the Hokage building. Ino marched along as if she were on a warpath. A few Jōnin leaped out of your way. “It is a Friday night, and I’ve decided that we’re going to have fun!” Ino gripped the files in her hands as a burning fury blazed in her eye. 

“We?” 

Ino whipped you around when you finally reached the exit, already spewing about all the potential activities you could do for the night. She tucked the reports under her arm to take you excitedly by the hands. 

“I’ll talk to Sakura at the hospital, and you find Hinata and Tenten. We’ll meet at my place at seven, no, six!” You flailed your hands for her to let go, which she did without a moment of hesitation in explaining her plan. “I expect everyone to be dressed to the nines, so don’t embarrass me! I have a whole plan!” 

You retied your hitai-ate, feeling more secure in organizing your stray hairs. 

And just like that, Ino was gone. 

***

Hinata was easy to find, with Tenten being a little less so. However, Tenten hadn’t needed any convincing.

“A girl’s night?” she practically cried, just about tackling you to the ground in joy. “Yes, yes, of course, yes!” When you regained a moment to breathe, she glanced around at her two teammates, who had both stopped training when you arrived. “Please tell me it’s soon.” 

“Ino’s place at six,” you relayed, “And she’s expecting everyone to be kinda dressed up.” Tenten squealed something about pants that was too high a decibel to hear. Lee raised his hand somewhere in the background.

“Can Neji and I come?” he asked, much to Neji’s complaint. You didn’t even have the opportunity to respond.

“It’s girl’s night, you idiot!” 

Tenten threw something from her arsenal that had Lee diving to the ground. 

You supposed she really needed a break from her team after all…

Hinata, on the other hand, required much more convincing. 

“I, uh— I just don’t know. I wouldn’t know what to wear.” She played with the gravel under her boot. Hinata refused to look at you, clearly stressed about Ino’s orders for attire as you lounged on the Hyūga engawa, unbothered.

“If you’re worried, you could just wear what you usually wear,” you offered. While not what Ino intended, you assumed Hinata’s usual jacket would be better than her riling herself up and fainting over picking a new outfit. 

“No!” she asserted, her sudden volume— well, volume for Hinata— surprising you enough to prop yourself up on your elbows. She cast her eyes back toward the ground. “I just, um— I don’t know…”

“I can help you pick out an outfit if you want.”

“Oh… I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

And so went the cycle until you finally strongarmed Hinata into finally letting you inside.

***

You arrived at Ino’s first. Inoichi appeared surprised, although not too shocked to see you on his doorstep. He greeted you warmly, stepping to the side to let you in.

“Another girl’s night?”

“Dad,” you heard Ino whine as you stepped into the entryway. She appeared down the hallway, hands in the middle of adjusting her hair as a bobby pin sat clenched between her teeth as she glared at him. “Go away!” 

Inoichi laughed almost sheepishly, having been through all of this many times before. You took off your shoes.

“Girl’s night, I know, but at least let me make you some tea before you all head out.” You offered Inoichi a grateful smile as he retreated into the kitchen just as Ino made her way down the hall.

“Oh my god, is that new?” She gestured to your top. You were about to ask her the same thing. Her slim, violet blouse draped asymmetrically down one arm, and you could have sworn it would have been all she talked about if it were new. Ino walked a circle around you before pushing you fully into the apartment. “Please tell me you’ll let me borrow it next time?”

“Only if you tell me where you got yours from. Sheek seventies goddess!” 

“Oh, thank you, thank you, you’re too kind.” 

You sat down across from her at a small table. You remembered when the Yamanaka’s switched it out for a larger one, but the small table had remained close to the entryway. Ino immediately settled her cheek in her hand, kicking her feet lightly as she sat. 

“It was actually Tenten’s if you’d believe it! She said she didn’t like the color, and I was like are you crazy?” Ino narrated. “But then again, I know she’s more of a warm-color babe, but I’m still trying to get her to get personally color-tested.” 

You heard Inoichi shuffle around one of the corners, and Ino sprung up to meet him, shooing him off again before returning with your tea. The amber liquid sat in handmade ceramic mugs painted with natural colors. A little sugar bowl sat on the side, a smiley face drawn in the grains with the teaspoon. 

***

The rest of your friends arrived fairly punctually, with Tenten arriving fifteen minutes before your scheduled time. (You supposed she really, really needed a break from her team.) Sakura and Hinata didn’t come a second late. After a round of fawning over outfits and eyeliner, you were off into the night to follow Ino’s detailed itinerary.

“Alright, everyone, I want pictures!” 

“Ino, where did you even get that?”

Ino set a tiny camera on a nearby planter, propping it up by the shrub that sat inside. She quickly backed up to the four of you, nearly toppling Sakura to the ground. She grabbed Hinata by the arm, ready to pose.

“It’s on a timer, you guys, quick!” Ino exclaimed through gritted teeth, and with only a few seconds to spare, you all posed together for your first documented girl’s night. She even got a few more in by the time you decided it was time to head into the lounge. 

The Silver Shurriken was the new lounge that opened up in the village’s downtown, and ever since its opening, Ino hadn’t been able to stop talking about it. You’ve all likely heard the menu several times— they specialized in Mizu no Kuni-style tapas— in addition to the wide selection of specialty mocktails. And for someone who was adamant about saying there was never anything to do in Konoha, Ino was over the moon. 

Ino just about ordered everything, and as half of the table stared over at her with wide eyes, she flashed a fat wad of cash from her wallet.

“Don’t worry about it, girlies; dinner’s on Shikamaru tonight,” she announced with a wink. 

“What the fuck, Ino! Where’d you get all that?” Sakura nearly spat out her water, leaning over to thumb through the stack in her hand. Ino fanned her smug expression with the stack before tucking it back inside her purse.

“Shikamaru’s mom doesn’t know about his new smoking habit.” 

Tenten couldn’t help the single, boisterous laugh that jumped from her throat. She slammed a hand on the table.

“So you’re blackmailing him?” 

Ino ran her fingers through her bangs, casting her almost guilty gaze off somewhere toward the ceiling. But as your food came to the table, the group grew distracted. Each of you eyed the small plates— one of everything came— and thanked your server in a chorus. Ino trailed off, forgetting what she was saying.

“I wouldn’t call it blackmail so much as…”

“As what?” Tenten snarked with another laugh, reaching to pull a seasoned pepper from one of the plates. 

Ino frowned, a pout anchoring her lips downward as she slapped Tenten’s hand away with attitude and a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, you’re really questioning my methods when dinner and drinks are being paid for?” 

She had a point.

With a motion of your brow, you held up your fruity mixed drink, a cracker with cheese halfway up to your lips. 

“To Shikamaru’s nicotine addiction!” 

You exchanged pointed eye contact with the other girls at the table before you all took a collective shrug. The other girls raised their glasses. 

“To Shikamaru’s nicotine addiction!”

***

You barely made a crack at a quarter of what you ordered before you were interrupted.

“Sakura? Sakura Haruno?” A group of shinobi who were walking by stopped at your high top as they passed through, one tapping Sakura on the shoulder and nearly causing her to jump. You almost slapped his hand off of her, but she grabbed your wrist underneath the table.

“Eh, yes?” she smiled. You exchanged a glance with Ino, who took a dip from her drink, eyes flickering up and back toward her glass. Sakura’s hand left yours to intercept the shinobi’s, redirecting him expertly.

“I thought I recognized you!” He nearly burst into tears. “This angel right here saved my life!” He turned to proclaim to the rest of his friends, who you guessed were just about as drunk as he was. Only when the shinobi began to remove his shirt did your mutual glances turn into gapes of horror. By this time, the man actually was crying. “Got stabbed through the chest! I didn’t think I’d see the light of day again!”

Sure enough, there was a scar about three inches in length on the right side of his chest. 

“Oh, well, thank you,” Sakura laughed cordially, though wearily. “I’m glad it’s healed well. Have a good night, boys.” A vein twitched on her forehead, clearly unenthused at having her work brought into her time off. As vexed as she was, she wasn’t about to get all of you kicked out of the Silver Shurriken.

“Tenten! Hey! We didn’t know you’d be here!” A voice that was unmistakably Lee carried loudly from the front entrance. Tenten immediately tensed. Facing away from the door, her eyes darted to you and Hinata as if to silently ask if what she feared was truly behind her. “Tenten!”

You soon realized that Lee wasn’t alone. 

“Oh, hey, guys!” Naruto chimed, hands clasped together behind his head. Still engaged with the band of shinobi she had apparently saved the lives of, Sakura did a double take. “Fancy seeing you all here!” 

“Lee told us you all were doing a girl’s night, so we decided to do a guy’s night!” Kiba barked. “It was meant to be!” As the guys settled into the table next to yours, Hinata flagged down your waiter to discreetly ask for a to-go box and the check.

“Hinata? Hinata, is that you?” Neji pushed through the group of guys with a stern scowl. “What are you doing here? Is this why you skipped this evening’s training?"

You didn’t know how it happened, but your entire girl’s night had devolved into chaos. Between the guys constantly trying to engage you from the table over to the line of people asking Sakura for medical advice, Tenten ripping Lee to shreds, and the fact that Hinata had apparently snuck out, your night had gone awry. Ino smacked someone who tried to touch her hair.

“Hey,” Hinata whispered. It was a miracle that you heard her. You turned, and to your surprise, your food was already packaged in boxes in her hands. A few reusable bottles clinked in the tote she slung over her shoulder, having poured your drinks in them under the table. You could only wonder where she learned that one. “Let’s go.” She gestured with her head.

With a series of rapid taps on the leg and pointed eye contact, you collected the girls quickly, each of you rising from your table with bags and jackets already in hand. Ino paid the check in full with a generous tip, ignoring protests from Shikamaru in the background. You hardly said goodbye, each of you scurrying out of the lounge as quickly as possible, pissed.

You regrouped outside. Ino nearly kicked over a potted plant.

“Can we just take a second to talk about—”

“That was unbelievable!” Tenten, who was likely the most flustered, exclaimed. “Like, what the actual fuck?” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, guys. I should have known something like this was going to happen. It’s my fault.”

You were all on her in an instant.

“Hey! Stop that!”

“No, it wasn’t your fault; it was just an unlucky night.”

“You didn’t do anything, Tenten!”

Ino sighed, starting back down the road with a defeated gait.

“So… back to my place?” she sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of you. You began to follow, but Sakura stayed, looking off toward the Hokage building. A single night continued to illuminate one of the upstairs offices. 

“Is Lady Tsunade still working?” she mused with knitted brows. “That can’t be right.”

“She was when I dropped off my mission report before I went to Ino’s,” Hinata chimed, coming up next to Sakura with your packaged food still in hand. Sakura turned to the rest of you with a sympathetic expression. Ino puffed up immediately.

“Oh, no! No! I know what you’re about to say, and no!” She pointed a finger rudely, having her hands in the air as if to physically ward off Sakura’s unspoken idea. “Tsunade is the whole reason why we’re having a girl’s night out in the first place! To forget about work!”

“I know she’s been crabby as of late, but if she’s been staying late handling all the village paperwork, that’s probably why.” Sakura’s lip turned downward into a pout. “It would be a nice thing to do. We have plenty of food.”

“I think a night in would be a great idea. Things around here have been pretty hectic.” Hinata nodded, holding up the stack of boxes. “We certainly have enough.”

“Shizune is probably still in there,” you said, causing Tenten to noticeably wince.

“Yikes.”

Much to Ino’s deflation, it appeared a consensus was made. 

***

Tsunade looked exhausted. A cup of coffee sat in front of her, and while she appeared awake enough to get her paperwork done, you could see the fatigue in her eyes. Shizune was just about dozing off at a table pushed to the side of the room. Tonton was asleep at her feet. 

“Huh?” Tsunade sounded at the opening of her office doors. She stood alert, her reading glasses at the tip of her nose. “What happened? Why are you all here so late?” She came around her desk, studying you with intent concern.

“We saw you were still working,” Sakura started, gesturing to the leftovers you brought from the Silver Shurriken. “And we were doing a bit of a girl’s night.” You watched as Tsunade’s expression appeared to soften. 

“And we brought food!” You smiled, ushering the rest of you farther into the office. Shizune sat up from her desk in acute surprise, delayed in registering everything. Tsunade’s neutral expression slowly morphed from acute concern to pleasantly surprised. 

“It’s from the new lounge that opened up downtown,” Ino added.

“Oh,” she said, a spurring noise in the back of her throat as she fought for words to say, “Thank you. Here, let me put down a blanket. We can sit.” Tsunade scurried off to a corner of the office with a certain amount of giddiness.

You helped her set out the green blanket before you sat down together. Hinata opened all the containers as Shizune ransacked the cabinets for a few paper plates. You all ate together, your girl’s night not ruined after all. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes (tw knife violence): the last time i went out with my friends, i almost got into a fight and stabbed someone... twice.

[kandisheek]

Hey friend!! Some prompts for you (choose your fave, do them all, whatever floats your boat!)

1. Steve and female Tony during a team picnic/party and Steve surprises Toni by asking her to re-marry him and renew their vows 😍

2. Steve and Tony undercover and having to make out for cover identity reasons, except then they get into it a little too much and lose track of the target

3. Bucky and Tony in a daemon au—Bucky has a white wolf (obvi) and Tony has a leopard, and when they first meet during CW their daemons touch and they both jolt and realize that they’re soulmates, effectively ending any conflict between the sides of the teams

Have fun friend!!! 🥰🥰

Hello friend! Sorry for the long wait! I chose your undercover prompt and went ham with it ;) I hope you enjoy!

---

“Can't believe they're making us do this,” Brock grumbled, toying with the gun in his pocket as he walked through yet another clothing store, surreptitiously looking around for their target. He'd known from the first moment he'd met him that Rogers was a pain in the ass, but he never would've guessed that he'd have to hunt him down in a fucking mall of all places.

When he'd joined STRIKE, Brock had thought that their missions would include a lot more active combat, something fun where he could let loose. Instead they'd been sent on their third recon mission in a row, and he was getting sick of walking around like an asshole, looking for some fucker who couldn't keep his mouth shut.

“Nothing in the back,” Rollins said as they regrouped, and Brock nodded.

“Get Piper and Flynn and spread out. Top floor.” He pointed at the remaining two of his team. “We're going to head down. Rendezvous in thirty.” Rollins nodded, marching off as Brock turned on Davis and Khan. “Let's go.”

They followed him towards the escalator, heading down to level one. Brock scanned the people coming up on the opposite side, a couple of teenage girls, an old lady, a – ugh, a fucking pair of homos kissing. Brock averted his eyes with a sneer, waiting until they passed him before he continued looking out across the hall. He stepped down onto the ground floor, checking the nearby storefronts for any sign of –

A commotion. Brock whipped around, looking up at the floor above, the one they'd just left, where the hushed murmurs of a gathering crowd could be heard. He gave Davis and Khan a sign, and they all practically sprinted up the escalator, turning towards the open space on their right to see –

Brock's mouth dropped open. For a second he couldn't believe his eyes, but there was no doubt that – yes, that was Steve fucking Rogers bending none other than Tony fucking Stark over a fucking trashcan in the middle of a public fucking mall, shoving his tongue down his throat.

“Um,” Davis said, and Brock slowly shook his head. “Is that –“

“Yes,” Brock said numbly. “Yes, it is.”

Khan shuffled his feet. “So, uh. What do we –“

“Advance on target. We just – advance on target. Yeah.” Brock cleared his throat, sticking his hand in his pocket to get a hold of his gun. “Spread out.”

Davis and Khan still looked faintly shocked as they nodded and assumed position. Neither Rogers nor Stark seemed to notice the three men closing in on them, which was understandable, given that there was already a crowd forming, Stark seemed to have both of his hands down the back of Rogers' pants, and Brock couldn't really tell whose tongue was in whose mouth at this point.

“Oh my god!”

The high-pitched screech may have made Brock wince, but Rogers and Stark sprang apart like two jacks in a box, their faces red and eyes wild. Brock wrinkled his nose. Christ, Rogers looked like he was fucking high, dazed and mussed to shit. Stark on the other hand looked like the cat who got the cream.

“What the heck do you think you're doing?” the random woman continued in the same piercing shriek, covering her two children's eyes with one hand each. “This is a public space. There are children here!”

“Oh gosh.” Rogers covered his mouth, which did nothing to hide the mortified flush on his cheeks. “Ma'am, I'm so sorry, I don't know what –“

“You better get out of here or I'll call the police,” the woman yelled, and Stark stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly.

“We'll leave. Truly, so sorry. Won't happen again.”

“See that it doesn't,” she snapped before she grabbed her children and tugged them away into the still growing crowd of curious onlookers. One of the kids kept turning back over his shoulder, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Mommy, mommy,” he said, all child-like wonder. “Was that Ironman?”

Brock glanced around the room to see several people with their phones out, obviously recording this entire mess. When he looked back at Rogers, Stark was already staring right at him, his eyes hard and full of threat. Obviously Stark was well aware of who Brock was and who he was working for. Meanwhile, the Captain looked like he was struggling not to spontaneously combust from shame.

It might have been funny, had it not been so utterly inconvenient.

He could tell that Davis and Khan were still waiting for his signal to move in, but there were too many eyes on them now. If they took Rogers in here, it would be all over the news within minutes. They couldn't afford that kind of publicity. And either way, Stark was a loose canon that they weren't prepared to deal with at this stage.

He made a subtle sign for his men to fall back, turning away from the spectacle those two idiots were still making of themselves. They'd grab Rogers out in the parking lot or something. And if Stark was still with him at that point, then Pierce could go fuck himself and his orders. Brock wasn't going to carry Rogers off while the man was saluting America in his pants.

There were limits to what he was willing to do. Even for HYDRA.

[obsessedwithpedritoofc]

Nᴏᴛ Iɴᴛᴏ Bᴏʏs (Jᴀᴠɪᴇʀ Pᴇñᴀ)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Javier Peña × Male Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2,4 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: You had been working for Escobar from the United States until he told you to move to Colombia. It was then when you met him, and he put your world upside down with a single look, and a couple threats.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: angst, violence, mentions of death, mentions of killing, drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of unholy things (such as brothels), mentions of war, 80s typical homophobia, swearing, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of Y/N. (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: sorry for breaking your hearts, writing angst is my thing. promise next one is gonna be WAY less angsty. enjoy <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It had happened. You had told yourself it wouldn't. But it had. And you were so fucked up.

You had known Javier Peña for several months. With the war against the drugs and the cartels going, everyone knew everyone. That was something you learned fast when you moved to Colombia. The very day you arrived, you were already being tracked by everyone in town, including the kids. Still, you tried to keep it on the low.

You had moved to Colombia as an order from your boss. Of course, and like everyone else was in that time, you were involved in drug activities, and were working for the Medellín cartel from the United States. Your job was as simple as keeping track of the extradited drugsters that got to the States from the cartel and visited them once in a while, informed them of the current situation in the cartel —of course, in secret code so the cops wouldn't get any of that information—, and you kept sending money into their bank accounts for whatever purposes they wanted to give it when they got out from jail or whatever. At least it had been as simple as that, until your boss, Pablo Escobar, ordered you to move to Colombia. As you had heard —from Escobar himself, the news and all the rumors—, the war against drugs had gone to another level. You assumed that was why Escobar wanted you in Colombia, perhaps looking for that extra backup you could give him and his men when they fucked up. Whatever it was, you just did what you did best: obey without questions. And the day right after Escobar told you to come to Colombia, you were already unpacking your luggage in your new appartment.

Of course, and as you expected, you had received orders that very day. Your new job consisted of organising the drug deliveries and make sure the were done just in time, and counting the money in case someone had to go take care of the fuckers that tried to trick Escobar. Soon, you were involved in most of his important plans, too. He had said that it was an... ascension for doing your job well. 

That's how you became one of his right hand men, too. You became as close to him as Quica and Limón, who you also became close to. Soon enough, the three of you were eating, drinking, partying and getting high together when Escobar didn't need you. You even went to brothels together every now and then, when you had a night to rest from all the drug war thing.

It was one of those nights in a brothel when you had met him for the first time.

You saw him walking out of one of the brothel's rooms, still fixing his belt over his pants and with a lit cigarette positioned between his lips. 

Those so good-looking lips.

You stood staring at him for a couple of seconds, checking him out. He didn't seem to notice you looking at him until he got out of the brothel, when he glanced at you for a moment. That little glance was enough to make your heart flutter. You hadn't given it much importance then, and just continued your night at the brothel with some random girl.

Or at least you hadn't given it much importance until you met him again.

It was another one of your free nights. That time, though, you had decided to give Quica and Limón some space for themselves at the brothel while you just went to some bar and had a drink. You didn't have much time alone with yourself since you came to Colombia, and you wanted to spend some time relaxing and having a chat with your inner thoughts. But it turned out, that night you weren't able to spend alone time either.

The same man you had seen getting out of the brothel some weeks ago sat next to you at the bar. He called you "the guy that was looking at him when he got out of the brothel", which was kind of embarrassing. Though you didn't give much importance to anything about that conversation either when he got out his DEA agent badge and said that he knew who you were. Of course you were scared at first, he had the authority to take you to jail or even extradite you right there and then. 

But he didn't.

Instead, he tried to convince you to help him stop the drug war. He named some of the men he and his partners at the DEA had lost those last years because of the war against the Medellín cartel, and he numbered all the innocent deaths and every battle they had to fight only so it could result in more innocent people dead. Then he threatened you, saying he'd send you back to the States as one of those extradited drugsters you had been working for not so long ago, if you didn't help him. He knew you were close to Escobar and his other right hand men, and he wanted to get from you as much information as posible.

You felt some pity for the man. He seemed a bit desperate, asking someone as you to help him get Escobar. And you felt bad because of how he looked when he named all the people he had lost because of his stupidity and desperation to do so. And you didn't want to be extradited either —death didn't scare you, but going to a jail in the States did.

So you agreed.

You started giving Peña every information he asked from you. You told him everything Escobar and his family and men did, everywhere they went, all of their plans... You gave him all the information you had access to, which was basically all of it. And after some time of being his informant, you saw how much danger you were putting yourself at. Way too much danger to risk your life just for the money Peña gave you in exchange for all the information.

That's how you realized you weren't just doing it for the money anymore. You were doing it for him.

And it was weird. It hurt.

You met him every free night you had to update him about everything going on. And that's just how it worked: you met, you gave him the information, and he headed off to get more of whatever other intel he could gather from someone else, who were usually sluts from some fancy brothel he liked. Seeing him going to see and fuck one of those sluts he called informants made you jealous, something you couldn't believe.

It kept going like that for a while, though soon, Quica and Limón started to suspect. You weren't as close to them as you had been before the night you talked with Peña. You kept telling them it was fine, that there was nothing wrong and you were just having a bunch of bad days. And it seemed to work.

Until one day, Escobar called you so he could have a private chat with you.

He said Quica and Limón had told him about you being off, not present, and distant with them. He said you were not focused on your job anymore. And he said that you were taking many breaks to go to the bathroom, and way too many free nights. Unfortunately for you, he was joking when he said he blamed it on some girl you were spending time with.

And then, he threatened you.

It was official. Your life was in serious danger. Your own boss had threatened you.

That night you went home shitting your pants. For the first time in the many years you had been working in the drug business, you were scared. And it was all his fault.

You pulled your phone out and messaged him, telling him you needed to see him and talk to him immediately. He showed up in your house shortly after, giving you a hurried "Is everythin' okay?".

"We have a problem. I have a problem and if we don't do something, so do you", you looked at him with a mix of anger and fear.

"Okay, okay, calm down. What's wrong?"

"Quica and Limón know. Escobar knows. And he said he'd kill me if I don't go watching my back from now on", you saw him looking at the ground with a slight frown on his brow, as if he was thinking of what to do.

"Alright, we do have a problem", was all he said.

"You gotta fucking help me, Peña".

"Fine, uh...", he thought for a couple of seconds. And for a moment, it seemed like he had an idea. "If you can wait a couple days, I'll get you a passport to the States or somethin'—".

"Are you fucking kidding me? I'll be dead before you can get the passport. And he'll have men in the States to kill me when I get there anyway. I can't go back", you sighed, trying to find a solution for yourself.

"Stay at my place, or Steve's. His wife can help you. We'll protect you".

"Oh, will you? 'Cause really, I love the way you've been protecting me as your informant. You've protected me so fucking well that my boss found out about me and even my own friends want to end my life now", you spat at him. "So yeah, you've been doing a great shit job at protecting me, Javier".

That moment, your world seemed to stop. Peña looked at you with a mix of anger and shock —though it seemed more angry than anything else. It was then that you realized that you had, for the first time, called him by his name.

"Peña", he said with a stern expression.

"Really? After all this, you're mad that I use your name?", you sighed. You were actually nervous —even scared— about what would happen now, since he seemed more serious and angry than anything you had ever seen on him. "Look, just—".

"You don't get to call me that. What made you think you could?", he gave you another hard look.

"I don't know, it just came out—".

"You don't get to call me that".

He stood looking at you with his eyes burning with anger. You had never been so afraid of how someone looked at you —not even with Escobar— until that very moment. And you were even more afraid knowing that it was Javier Peña.

"I'm sorry", was all you said, trying to match his seriousness. "I didn't think you'd be this mad".

He walked up to you all silent and still looking angry as hell. Your heart was beating pretty fast at the sight of how he towered over you, making you feel weak at the knees.

"No way", he smiled sarcastically. "I'm gonna tell you somethin' and I need you to pay attention, boy", you gulped at his words, scared of what he would say. "You're not one of those whores I fuck to get info from. You're doin' this for money, and I'm doin' this to save the goddamn country. You wanna fuck a big man, go get him yourself at a brothel, I'm sure you'll find one that wants to stick his dick inside a little boy like you".

That crossed your limits. Your blood started to boil, and you heart was beating so fast you'd swear you felt it break at that very instant.

As you watched him walking to your door, you turned around to face him and gave him an even harder look than the one he was giving you before.

"So the great fuckboy Javier Peña leaves once again, heading off to one of his brothels to fuck whatever slut he can find tonight!", you said with an exaggerated, dramatic tone. "You know, it's so fucking sad seeing how you stick to one night stands because you're afraid to start feeling something. And it's sad that you're pushing away the only person that will probably be the only one to feel something for you that's not desperation to get fucked by you, just because you're not into boys", you spat out, being at the very verge of tears. "So go on, have another night of fun with a girl that's gonna fucking pretend she wants you just for your money and your big boy dick, while the only person that actually wants to be with you cries because you broke their fucking heart!".

When you finally got to breathe again, you came to realize just how much you were crying. And meanwhile, Peña was looking at you with his emotionless expression.

"I'll try to get you that passport as soon as possible", were the words he ended the silence with, and then he left.

The weight of your conversation hung in the air for the rest of the night. It was something you weren't going to forget easily. Of course you had imagined something like this would happen if you talked with Peña about your feelings for him, but you didn't expect him to be so rude and hard. Though, thinking about it, that was right what you would expect from anyone else. At the end of the day, you were a man that had fallen for another man, in the 80s.

You just were so dumb to think that Peña was different, that you could've had a chance. But of course, you didn't. And you didn't know why —knowing it was this way for everyone else—, it had hurt you that much.

And so, there you were, curled up in your bed as you cried to the thought of him silently, letting your pillow muffle your quiet sobs and get soaked by your non-stopping stream of tears. That night again, you thought of how much you hated Peña for being so heartless, so selfish. And so brave, so handsome, so hot, so perfect, so... Peña.

And you thought about how much you hated yourself for having helped this man, knowing that all he gave you in return was a broken heart and some money you didn't want. You knew he was a dangerous man, but damn, had you fallen hard for him. And damn, did you hate yourself for it.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep thinking about all this. You wished you hadn't moved to Colombia. You wished you didn't have anything to do with drugs or the cartel. You wished you didn't know Javier Peña. And you wished you weren't so in love with him.

[thr4shit]

hello, and welcome back to:

Things my brain keeps screaming at me! pt. 2

My brain was especially scream-y and aggressively off track today so some of these might be all over the place, but...

HenPat edition

(for all my fellow HenPat friends)

TV watching is a very common occurrence in their dates (they typically watch at Patrick's place)

They both enjoy watching horror movies, and love seeing each other get a little startled because it means they get to cuddle closer to each other (also gives them an excuse to either comfort or tease each other). This is also a preferred activity because it helps them distance themselves from any possibly shitty things happening that day.

(action, dystopian and some romantic comedy movies are also on the menu, and their dates are complete with a side order of sitcoms)

Patrick is very possessive/protective of Henry

I don't mean in the "stalker" way, he can get that way, but he will be like a "guard-dog" around Henry. Essentially trying to keep people from messing with him, due to (in the sense of my Henry having internalized homophobia hc) I also think Patrick would have a similar situation (but Patrick would be less affected by it, essentially being like "no, f you, I'm not going to conform") So, when he and Henry become more public about their relationship, he began worrying about Henry not feeling confident enough to actually be himself. Which caused him to become very wary about Henry going places by himself (not wanting him to sort of go back in the closet because of people showing hatred towards him again).

Henry is big on cuddling (little spoon)

He will never admit it but he likes the physical and emotional stability it gives him. He will go out of his way to cuddle up against Patrick when they're alone, and over time gets more comfortable doing so when they're in public. Patrick eventually catches onto this and will jokingly begin saying that he's Henry's "chair" and will playfully refuse to let Henry sit anywhere but his lap. Patrick is also very fond of cuddling, and appreciates when Henry lets him do it.

They like to 'mark' each other

These are often in the form of hickeys or marker "tattoos"

Patrick: The hickeys are always hidden so Henry doesn't have the possibility of getting in trouble at home, but the marker tattoos are not. Those are out on his arms by Patrick so that if he is not around to 'protect' Henry, people know that Henry in a sense 'belongs' to Patrick and trying to hurt him emotionally or physically will incur Patrick's wrath and possible retaliation. While it is for 'protection', Patrick prefers the hickies.

Henry:

This is often to a less extreme extent, and only begins later in the relationship

Henry marks him because he is to an extent afraid of losing Patrick, this is because he's Henry's first genuine relationship, so as they get closer and closer he gets more (I don't wanna say clingy, cause it's not 'clingy' it's more of "nope, you're mine now, bitch") focused on making sure people know Patrick is his. So he starts putting his own marker tattoos on Patrick and giving him hickeys. While it is out of relationship anxiety, Henry prefers the marker tattooing.

Inside them, there are two wolves...

On the first hand, they're absolute MENACES to the town in general because.. well, it's Henry and Patrick. But on the other hand, they're such godfathers to all the little egg(boy)s of Derry. They're the closest thing the other queer men/boys of Derry have to community role models, and... oh boy.

They both somehow "wear the pants"

Both Henry and Patrick are oddly dominant, and refuse to fully submit to each other so they're stuck in a weird cycle of "I'm in charge" "bitch, no you're not" and it is both funny and incredibly annoying to them (and anyone in their general vicinity).

Messy Drama Bitch x Conservative Drama Bitch

Patrick is all about being in people's faces while Henry is a bit more reserved about it, not going out of his way to talk about his relationship. Patrick is very focused on trying to force people to realize that their kind of relationship is just as normal as any other, while Henry focuses on his personal enjoyment and safety (but can still be a drama bitch if someone gets in his way).

[stupid-time]

••.•´¯`•.•• 𝙰𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 ••.•´¯`••

EXTRA TAGS: NSFW, mlm, handjob, making out, MDNI, no aftercare

WARNING: NEW WRITTER

The secret affair with Simon and McTavish was obvious, a well-known fact. The glances the two give each other. Giving discreet attention to one another during debriefs, hand on thigh. Being attached by the hip, walking, sitting together.

For example, Simon loves tomatoes; yet he lies to let John eat them.

“Hey, Johnny. You like tomatoes?”

"Hell yeah! D'ye no like them?" Soap exclaimed, a grin painted on his lips. Energetic as always, eyes flashing in pure excitement.

“Er.. no.” Riley shook his blonde head, picking the tomatoes off his salad, making sure to get every one. Handing the lad the fruit, others were confused. This was not the behavior or treatment of the lieutenant. Gaz started to speak up, cut off by the glare of Ghost. His devilish brown eyes, the stone cold facade scaring off anymore voices in the mess hall within a five feet radius. Not letting anyone advise Johnny that Simon really loves tomatoes.

Then, the expression that Soap had when Riley finally showed his face, during that mission. That was way before the two have been dating, oblivious to each other's love. Johnny was practically the tomato that Simon would hand him. Like the weight of stress evaporated off of his shoulders when he saw those scars covering Simon’s face, the blonde hair was a little messy due to the balaclava; however, so silky and beautiful. Johnny's eyes wide like a full moon, orbs looking at Riley’s features. Unable to focus his gaze at anyone else in the room, the clock ticking in the background had stopped and all there was one frame, Simon. Sharp jawline and all, how could such a handsome man hide from him? Johnny felt goosebumps in his arms, yet it wasn’t cold in the facility. He couldn’t blink, scared that the sacred sight would disappear when his vision would fall black. Abruptly, his daydream would shrivel away. Hearing the felt when the new mask overlay Riley’s visage. The clock now continued ticking and people around him came into perspective.

After that day, McTavish accepted his undeniable feelings for the British man.

Finally, Price would notice the duo sneak off during training time. Some place hidden, Captain didn’t want to find out. In fear of finding an intimate sight. Seeing Johnny wrapped around Simon, lips interlocked in a passionate embrace. Simon’s calloused hands gripping the Scottish man’s thighs, not able to let go. Even with the cloth of trousers, his clasp could leave swollen marks. Perceiving McTavish's back against the hard wall. As he attempts to clutch Riley’s mask, deprived of Simon’s face. Johnny's body being lifted from the ground, stiff legs wrapped around the lieutenant's strong waist. Hips rocking against each other in hungry arousal, dry humping each other. Desperate for attention and release. Breathy pants coming from both individuals, faces flush and desperate groans at each impact on each other's hard. Bulges rubbing against each other in rough thrusts. Feeling electric waves travel from their tips through their abdomen. Each lightning strike compelling them to propel each other's hips in a monstrous frenzy.

Or that time when Laswell was walking down the hall, past some barracks. Laswell strode by a door labeled: ‘LIEUTENANT RILEY’. Some unnerving noise, muffled behind the door. Groans and sighs when the ruffle of sheets. The familiar voices make Kate stop in her tracks, prior to quickly realizing the activities the two are committing in. Laswell quickly sped up her pace, leaving the two in their time. She didn’t want to be an observer, she’s not that nosy. The sounds of the two men being halfway unclothed, each other's parts moving with sync. Johnny's backside on the mattress, while Simon is on his knees. Muscled legs right on top of Riley’s. Shafts in one hand, attached to a tattooed arm. Simon’s grand hand moving in a tight grip, slow and steady. Eachothers privates twitch in need, using their semen for easier travel to pleasure land. As these events are happening, Johnny finds his strength. He shifts his body up, lips and teeth immediately finding Riley’s breast. Mouth wrapped around his nipple, soaps much tanner hand finding Simon's side. Latching onto him like his life depends on Simon’s body.

“O- oh.. fuck Johnny.. Johnny..” Riley pleas, head falling back. dirty blonde eyebrows furrowed, teeth clenched against each other. Trying his best to hold back the arousal filled weeps. Simon’s body gets needier and needier, his hand going up and down rapidly. Held back sounds becoming unleashed between the both of them, the fluttered closed eyes. Open up, unclothing the brown orbs. Blonde lashes over the eyelids, the brown iris rolling back. Sweet beads on Simon’s nose, eyes watery in indulgence. One another’s mind going hazy, on cloud nine. The stars and clouds of Evan were so close yet so far away. The ecstasy like an electric chair, shocks going through their bodies. Pumping the vast base vigorously.

“I- Simon.. g’nna cum sir..” Johnny whined, absolutely wrecked. Simon could relate, seen in the same manner. “M’too.. P..please- same time,” Simon groaned back, a tense and shaky nod from the Scottish lad.

Suddenly, the gravid rods find release. Spraying their hot, dense output. Simon milking themselves of every last drop, in sync whimpers and whines coming from the men. Each length falling soft, the two minds finding reality. Leaving themself a wet mess, each other's faces in the crook of hickey and bite covered necks.