#Really stretching the limits and definitions of a sentence

[zerolostwalks]

The greater polyphantoms polycule + niche themed café au

The truth of the matter was, they all expected a bigger reaction from their loved ones when they announced their plans to open a fantasy tavern style cafe, none of them sure how to react when instead everyone they told simply glanced over all them and slowly relented, “yeah that makes sense.”

“If it wasn’t that it would have been some neon pastel candy shoppe,” Kayla had supplied when Carrie and Flynn had brought up their surprise over lunch, “but that seems too close to Luke’s hated diner job, and this way Carrie can live out that ‘secret dream’ of being a fairy princess.”

And while Carrie would never openly admit Kayla was right, she had to concede that combining all of their unique flair’s for the dramatic and flights of fancy really did make for quite the immersive themed cafe experience.

(Send me an AU and a pairing and I'll write a 3 sentence fic)

[simp4konig]

König jealous of your dog headcannons

Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: Definitely more than 2😎 🗿Honest to God i have no idea whay the word count is 🤦🏼‍♀️These were mewnt to be short headcannons yet as PER USUAL i got carried away 🤡🤡not abt to copynpaste every single paragraph individually into a word counter

*Slow burn

*Established relationship with König

*⚠️Google Translate German!!⚠️ (sorry guys ...💔)

*Not requested 😋😋 just something that's been on my mind.

*Pls dont worru about rqs guys!!😨 Writing two of tjem atm but I jus wanted to post this first (so my profile isnt as barren as the Sahara desert🏜️while i work at a pace that is slower than that of a turtle 🐢)! :)

*Also how tf do people make their bullet points look so good??? is it a formatting thing or sum cuz im ACTUALLT crippled 😰😰

...

König really didn't want to be jealous of your dog. He didn't.

He hadn't anticipated he would ever feel that way, especially towards a dog, of all things.

Despite not being the type to be jealous — at least, not from his perspective; he was only looking out for his darling! — his eyes would narrow whenever a soldier would approach you, being far too handsy with a stranger. His partner. It made his blood boil.

Sure, König would always stare down whoever made the mistake of flirting with you or introducing themselves with playful banter while behind you. Clearing his throat, a tense hand was placed gently yet firmly on your shoulder.

"Hör auf, mit meinem Schatz zu reden, sonst breche ich dir das Genick."

Not understanding a word of what he said, they would cower in fear nonetheless, getting the message with how he'd had spat that sentence and the venom in his voice. Glancing at their wrist despite wearing no watch, they'd insist that they were running out of time and literally run away.

When you'd look up at him in confusion, König looked back down at you innocently, paraphrasing that he had simply said you were taken.

A facepalm from you. "God, König..." you'd groan, unable to stop the silly smirk from stretching itself on your face. "You nearly made that guy shit himself. Please don't do that again."

König would likewise always straighten himself to his full height and cast a menacing shadow at the dummkopf who dared speak poorly of you.

Once they'd mumble rushed apologies and speed-walk away, you'd see him glowing with an adoring expression in his eyes, a complete 180° to the death stare he shot at the recruit and the hand gesture he made at his throat seconds before.

König would always rest a large hand on your lower back to guide you in crowds, keeping you close beside him to further drive in the point that you were strictly off limits.

Really though, he wasn't jealous. Not in the slightest!

He rationalised his behaviour as looking out for you. In no way was he being overbearing or overly territorial; if anything, people were pushing your already established boundaries and he was reminding people of them! He wasn't jealous at all, no.

Behind closed doors, however, he'd be quieter than usual and have a vulnerable look in his eyes, desperate for your reassurance and to hear you say that you loved him.

Deep down, he was insecure.

That good-looking man didn't make you swoon, did he? Why were you laughing so hard at his joke? He wanted to have made you laugh like that. You still loved him, though, didn't you? You wouldn't want to be with anyone else, right? Right?

It wasn't that König didn't trust you. Although this Colonel looked fierce in front of his collegues and used his booming voice to command others with a harsh tone he found it difficult to project at a large crowd, he had always been sensitive in secret. Being bullied in childhood could certainly do that to a person.

You were the only one he trusted to see his insecurities, and would always shower him with love and affection in private, reassuring him that yes, he was still your sweet and handsome König, and yes, of course you still loved him — that guy that got a laugh out of you was only one out of pity, as he gave you the ick anyways.

One afternoon while you two were eating dinner, König had out of the blue been the one to suggest the idea of a pet; a strong, big, intimidating dog that would protect you while he himself couldn't.

In all actuality, he had been thinking this over since the day you two started dating.

After all, as much as he'd had liked to clone himself and have one part of him fighting when duty called while the other part stayed with you to protect you at home, obviously that wasn't achievable. That afternoon seemed most appropriate to bring it up, as he was assigned for a mission in two weeks' time and was already worried sick over you despite still yet to be around you at all times for twelve more days.

You laughed, surprised by his sudden suggestion. In a way, you had already had a guard dog all along, you told him, yet König shook his head vehemently, insistent. "Nein! Was ist, wenn du verletzt bist? What if you get hurt while I am away? I won't allow it!"

Shaking your head in defeat as an amused smile was tugging at your lips, you couldn't really blame your boyfriend for being so paranoid. In a sense, he was justified in thinking so, and you couldn't fault him, him being a soldier — a Colonel — and all.

König himself came to the conclusion that you should have a German-Shepherd — "A big, strong, and intelligent dog" — smiling proudly as he said so. Laughing at his need to prove himself to you and his evident enthusiasm that proved he was deadly serious, you shook your head again with a sincere smile on your face and gave his forehead a kiss. Really, his concern over you was endearing, and you loved him so much.

On the day before the mission of his, he surprised you by leading in a fully-grown German Shepherd into your shared home as he carried a large dufflebag over his shoulder. Although you had wanted to have a puppy, König insisted a trained canine used in the police force and military operations would keep you safe, and he was firm, not budging even when you mustered the best puppy-dog eyes you could. He knew best, and he needed to relieve the anxiety that plagued him when you weren't around immediately. Finally having use for the connections he had made in his position, he was able to bring home on of Kortac's own German-Shepherds.

Standing with a self-assured manner, the dog didn't hesistate in showering you with love once the lead came off, lapping and licking at your face in excitement at seeing his new owner's face.

You laughed out loud when you saw a tactical dog collar around his neck, the same khaki colour that matched König's cargo pants. Another piece of König to remind you of him.

Still standing, König watched with his arms crossed and a huge smile across his face as he saw how happy you were. He was beginning to breathe easy with the knowledge that nothing would come to harm you while he was away.

Tongue out while panting, the dog waited expectantly under you for an order.

You looked up at König, eyes sparkling in child-like excitement. "Can he do tricks?"

Smiling, König's eyes crinkled in his love for you. "Schatz, it can do more than just tricks. It can protect you. And it will."

You looked down at the giant yet sweet dog, and raised your voice slightly.

"Sit." He did so without hesitation.

"Handshake," you prompted, and he offered his paw to you obediently.

"Stay..." you began, a finger in front of his snout, "stay..."

"Good boy!" you squealed, and fed him a dog treat from the one of the XXL bags König had bought for the occasion, along with a mountain of dog toys, and even a bed.

"What are clever boy you are, aren't you? Yes you are! You are!"

König crouched, and pet the top of the dog's head a couple of times, his eyes on you. "What do you want to call it, meine Liebe?"

Pausing, all at once it occured to you. With joyful satisfaction, you exclaimed: "Prince!" You giggled, barely able to contain your happiness. "Our Prince to my sweet, handsome King," you cooed, not failing to notice the way König looked away, his cheeks under the eye holes of his hood reddening at your comment.

While away from you for weeks, even months at a time, he could rest easier knowing that you weren't all alone at home. Although he still worried for you excessively, biting his nails when in his room as he thought over how you could be doing and what you were doing at any given time, at least he wouldn't toss and turn at night thinking over what could happen to you. He'd smile in satisfaction, pleased that his presence would still linger even when he wasn't physically there, finding comfort in the fact that a part of him still remained with you when he was hundreds of miles away.

You, on the other hand, were so happy! Obviously you were overwhelmed with the responsibility — quite frankly, you had never had a dog before, much less one this big — so you struggled to take care of it in the beginning. Knowing what food to feed it, how to keep it entertained, going so often outside you'd flop on a chair in exhaustion was physically and mentally demanding, as you wanted your canine companion to love you unconditionally and not be a bad owner to it at all.

However, it all quickly became routine to you: walking your guard dog as his ears were perked up in alertness, head darting around from side to side; playing with it in the park, and spoiling it with treats when you'd get home; and grooming his soft, dark fur and taking him to vet checkups almost made you wonder how you had managed to live this long without ever owning a pet.

Whenever you'd make yourself some food, you filled his bowl with dog food too. Whenever you had just stepped out of the shower, it would be your dog's turn to be cleaned in the bathtub. Whenever you would lazily lay on the sofa or sprawl yourself on the bed, your dog was cuddled up to you.

It was all fun and games, though, until he'd damn near suffocate you with his sheer mass and make you sneeze from the fur that tickled your nostrils, but you slowly grew used to it, using your German Shepherd as a weighted blanket and hugging it like it was your own child.

Somehow, this furry friend filled a void that König would leave behind, and you practically were both attached by the hip — well, by the ankle and hind leg, actually, but that's beside the point. You two were inseparable, and if König knew that then he'd be surely overjoyed.

When König finally had some precious minutes to himself, the first thing he'd do was call you, wanting to hear your voice and make sure you were alright. He'd nearly trip over his own two feet as he scrambled for his phone to dial your number, nearly knocking over a lamp and falling over some furniture in the process.

You'd pick up on the second ring and would nearly go deaf upon hearing the loud accented voice on the receiver. "Liebling! How are you, my sweet? I have been missing you!"

You two would exchange these sorts of questions and proclamations of love back and forth, so lovey-dovey that some of the more daring operators in König's faction made gagging noises on the other side of the door, while the more serious operators scolded them and reminded them that they were yet to feel the touch of another man/woman.

As König would listen to your ramblings about how happy you were and your lovely German Shepard, however, his ears perked up and he listened more closely.

"Prince is so lovely! He's my sweet baby and I love him so so so much! He's definitely my best friend right now, 100%. Everyone back home is getting pissy with me when I don't answer their calls because I spend more time with him than I do with them but can you really blame me when I have this beautiful prince? I mean, he's so sweet! Whenever I don't wake up at the same time in the morning he's jumping into bed and licking my face and oh my God I cannot cope with this cuteness! He's such a good boy! The very best boy! The best boy of all the boys!"

Meanwhile, König stood there, his mouth agape.

...What did you mean he was your sweet baby? Your beautiful prince? Your good boy?

Why would you call him the — not the best, but the very best — boy, the best of all boys? You couldn't have been serious.

It was just a dog. Why were you so attached to it?

It wasn't like König didn't grasp the concept of strong bonds between humans and animals — in fact, he had always been a strong believer of the "dogs being a man's best friend" common knowledge — but... this? You were coddling the thing, for God's sake! It was supposed to be fierce and threatening, not cute and cuddly. How was it supposed to protect you when all you'd do was hug it and give it compliments?

He felt his jaws tighten when you panned the camera down to show the dog peacefully laying beside you on the bed, you stroking his ears. On. The. Bed. On his and your bed. The bed the two of you would sleep on.

König couldn't believe this; he, a grown man, a disciplined soldier that moved up the ranks to be a Colonel, a 6'10 brutal killing machine who l... wanted you to be calling him those things, wanted you to run your fingers through his hair like that. Not some mutt. You were giving it star treatment and pampering it way too much than you should have.

He laughed at himself for thinking so irrationally and for being so immature. I mean, it was a dog. There was no competition to be won, nothing to prove — his rational thought repeated to him that you still loved him regardless — yet the ultimate prize would be you and your attention.

He chuckled disingenuously as you rambled on about something, and the smile under his hood didn't quite reach his eyes.

When he finally returned after grueling months away from you, those pale blue eyes still crinkled up in happiness whenever they saw you, still picked you up and spun you in the air as you'd shriek like a banshee while your legs kicked freely, still gave you a loving kiss on your lips before showering your face with wet kisses. He'd pull away, a boyish grin on his face, his face flushed, your eyes locked with his in an intimate moment...

...And then his mood would sour as your dog leaped up towards you, not wanting to be left out in the reunion.

You'd fail to notice his hands clenched into fists as your dog took the oh so comfortable spot on your lap, where he should have been laying, how below his mask a scowl was aimed at the dog you'd shower with kisses that should have been for him, how the dog would slobber your face and leave it dripping in drool, almost as if it was proving some point to him and being totally smug about it.

Of course, he didn't seem the least bit bothered to you — he wouldn't let his behaviour show. This was utter childishness, completely ridiculous, and absolutely absurd, yet somehow König couldn't control the jealousy that would stew inside of him hours after you'd fall asleep, glaring at the dog laying in between you when all he had wanted all day was to cuddle up to you and hold you close.

Somehow, his plan to keep you safe backfired, because the dog took his job as your body guard too seriously and would not let him be affectionate with you. He was beginning to despise the creature.

When you'd be walking the dog together and shower it with praise, König's hands clenched into tight fists. When you'd stroke the dog's head gently, running your fingers through his thick fur as his front paws were tucked neatly underneath him, König's nails dug into his biceps as he kept his arms firmly crossed, hating what he was seeing through his peripheral vision. When you'd glance at him as your dog was nestled between your legs, he'd turn his head, hiding the furrowed eyebrows and the clear pout on his face of an annoyed child, behaving like an annoyed child.

• In conclusion: give your König a hug. :( A kiss right on the lips and tell him that he's your sweet baby! Your beautiful prince! Your good boy! Your favourite person in the entire world and the best of the best!

• Reserve that precious spot on your lap *just* for him, and allow him to be putty in your hands!

• Run your fingers through his hair just like you would with your dog, and scratch that sensitive spot on his scalp with your fingernails!

• Don't make him regret ever getting the dog for you :'( As time goes on, it will eventually become the "father that didn't want the pet is now best friends with it and the pet is most affectionate with him" kind of dynamic.

• Just because muscular men and army-hardened soldiers like König were disciplined to be stoic and strong, sometimes they want nothing more than affection and words of affirmation from their lover from time to time. <3

So, you'd now lounge on the couch, content with your two guard dogs on either side of you; your Prince laying to your right, and your King in between your thighs, stroking the top of his head as his chest rose and fell at a steady rhythm.

...

Note: Gonna kms 🤡🔫 i have ro to go back to school tmr fucjing WHY i hate everyoje there 😭So yeah less frequent updates sorry guys 💔💔still going to be writing my long-ass fanfictions but itll take more time and ill probs have like 10 mentsl breakfowns daily 🤪 literallt cannot wait 🥰

My writing process is so incomprehensible tho 😭i jump from the first fic im writing to the second one im writing WAYY too often 🗿but ig its good because in a way im not TECHNICALLY procrastinating and beinf productive with 2 projects at once,, tho idk i guess tbats just a major cope if im beinf honest🤷🏼‍♀️

THANKS FOR 1000+ LIKES AND NEARLY 80 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🎉🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕 LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF U AND WISH YOU NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS IN LIFE 🥹🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[amymbona]

Coach Zweig who rewards you for winning a games by eating your pussy out ❤️

Coach Zweig who doesn’t let you date because you need to focus on your game.

Coach Zweig who bends you over and spanks you when you lose.

Coach Zweig who says he’ll finally fuck you if you get that grand slam.

FUCKKKKKKK😫😫😫😫💦💦💦💦 I was like yeahhh the first one is really fucking good! And then I saw the second sentence! And then the third one! And the fourth one!

The rewards begin when he offers to massage your legs for you (after the whole afternoon of you whining how sore your whole body is). He has you on his bed, laying on your tummy, fingers sliding up your calves and thighs until he can't resist it and slide his fingers under your shorts. At first he just fingers you, but soon, the sessions consist of him diving into your pussy. He never gives you enough, though, not as much as you need, rewarding you just a bit and promising that the better you get, the better the rewards will be.

He saw a boy driving you to the practice once, instantly filled with jealousy and couldn't help but be rude as fuck to you the whole time. He's always rough during practice, says it helps build the character of a player, but that one time, he was such a bitch to you. That particular day, you were pushed to your very limit. And when you attempted to confront him, he told you every time you go on a date could be spent on the court instead. He's worse than your father, really, even insisting to give you a ride every so often to be sure there is no other boy competing for you attention.

The first time Patrick bent you over his lap was after one of the first bigger matches, you out of the city. You were incredibly nervous that day, almost crying, and unfortunately lost the match. When Patrick entered the locker rooms, you hoped he was gonna hug you, perhaps, and lighten up your mood. But instead, he pulled you over his thighs, ass up, and rolled your skirt up. He made you count too, and apologise after each time his palm made a contact with your ass, for playing so poorly. "Good girls get rewarded, bad girls get punished." Ever since that say, that sentence has stuck in your brain like a mantra.

You had the fuck talk completely sober, serious and without much bickering. Patrick is definitely not stupid, and he's a man with a fair amount of sexual experience. And he can damn well see when someone is attracted to him. So when you're stretching, his frame looming over yours, hand laid on your back to help you bend further and stretch your muscles fully, he casually drops it. It's like a bomb actually, and leaves you with soaked panties for the whole two hours of your practice. You are definitely getting that slam.

[dehydrated-for-donghae]

Headcanon: Spitting with Super Junior

more Eunhyuk Mango GIFs here word count: 978

I don't have an explanation for this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it just sort of happened. Whoops, oh well, what a shame.

No Ryeowook, 'cuz he's married.

Leeteuk

Colour this mother hen shocked. Why on earth would you want him to spit on you? But then… if it comes up organically, perhaps in the form of a strand of saliva linking your lips after a particularly ardent kiss… he’ll be curious enough to try it. Nothing too hardcore, he’s definitely not going to spit in your eye, probably a good thing that doesn’t sound too sexy but his lips do look luscious when he lets you treat your tongue like a lipgloss. So lick away and be prepared for some very messy (borderline feral) making out. His mouth isn’t the only thing that’s going to end up soaked.

Heechul

You would have to be out of your motherfucking mind to think this would go well. No.

Yesung

Okay I’m just going to say it. Yesung is filth. It doesn’t always have to be kinky fun times, vanilla is always available and on the table. Yesung is an excellent lay either way. But… my question is, why? Why would you pass up a chance on the spicy stuff? He’ll pin you down, or tie you up, get you in whatever position that you’re most comfortable with, and then he is going to go to town. He’s going to soak your skin, mouthing you all over until it looks like you’ve been swimming. He’ll spit hard if you ask him to, but he’s just as happy to let his drool and gravity work it out between themselves. And when he’s finally fucking you, leaning back with your legs wrapped around his waist so he can watch your whole body stutter on his cock, he’s going to look you in the eyes while he lets his spit drip from his perfect mouth directly onto your already-overstimulated clit. And, even better, he’s a switch. He’s more than happy to spend all his attention on you, but if you take charge… it is going to get messy. Good thing he’s got an excellent recovery rate.

Shindong

I can’t see him being into this. I’m not saying Shindong isn’t kinky or maybe I am, I just can’t see him enjoying this. Maybe it’s because he’s often cited as one of the unattractive members of SuJu, and I’m not gonna take on K-beauty standards here, but I am saying he deserves to be treated like the king he is. So no spitting on Shindong please. (Unless I’m completely wrong on this and you experience the fangirl fever dream of actually meeting him/winding up in his bed, and he asks you to spit on him. In which case, my bad).

Eunhyuk

Oh yeah, Eunhyuk is definitely into this. The merest suggestion of spit puts him straight on the “Ohgodyes” train “Fuckmenowville”. So lick the shell of his ear in public, maybe disguise it as a kiss when you are having a meal together with the whole team, and reap the benefits when you get home. Those benefits including: being thrown against a wall as soon as the door closes, getting your clothes ripped off, and swapping spit for the next two hours while getting railed in every position Eunhyuk can think of. And he's a creative guy so... lucky you.

Siwon

Generally, no. I think he’d find it too disrespectful to you. And he’d just be confused if you spat on him. He might even get mad about it, once he gets over the shock. But then again… if you can get him really riled up, maybe by teasing him relentlessly when you have to be in public all day… You don’t even need to touch him (in fact, it’s better if you don’t). Just keep catching his eye. Keep your fingers near your mouth, rest your hand on your chin, tap your lips thoughtfully (but give him bedroom eyes). Make an exaggerated show of licking your lips with your mouth open just enough to stretch it around his dick… yeah, that could distract him enough that he’d fumble his words mid sentence. And if you manage to make that happen while he’s doing an interview… you better be prepared for Dark Siwon™ to make an appearance. And Dark Siwon™ has no limits.

Donghae

If you can get him to spit on you, he’s going to try so hard to stay serious. Think missionary, him resting on his elbows above you, letting his spit drip into your mouth. Yeah, he’s gonna manage that for about five seconds before bursting into giggles and hiding his face in your neck. He’ll get better with practice, if you want him to. Once he’s used to it, if he’s feeling particularly submissive… he’s too shy to ask for it outright, but you can coax the request out of him. You’ve gotta be gentle though, no heavy degradation this is not Yesung we’re talking about. So tie him up with something soft (think dressing gown belt, or even a twisted up bedsheet), straddle his waist, and let your drool drop onto his face. Make sure you tell him how good he’s doing and how much you love him, because there will be tears. The kind that comes with a raging boner and lots of little hip thrusts, trying to find some kind of release. (Your aftercare better be top notch, or I will come for you, and they’ll be finding bits of you for months.)

Kyuhyun

Absolutely not. No. The only time spit gets involved with Kyuhyun is when he’s desperate for sex and you only have ten minutes, so he needs to slick up quick. It is really hot though, the way he spits into his hand and coats his cock before shoving it in you, with none of his usual teasing or taunting. Definitely worth getting him all riled up before a schedule or a show. Bring out his needy wild side once in a while, and cum so hard you see stars.

masterlist

[pagegirlintraining]

Wilmon + Baby steps, he told himself, taking a deep, shaky breath.

Baby steps, he told himself, taking a deep, shaky breath. Sure, there were plenty of things he’d have wanted to ask the gorgeous man with the dark curls and the eyes he could see himself drown in for good, other than, “Can I buy you a drink?”, including but not limited to, “How the fuck are you this beautiful?” and “Mind if I find out for myself what that drop of sweat on your neck tastes like if I lick it off?”; but he had to start somewhere if he didn’t want to scare off this real life miracle of a man by coming off as a major creep.

The smooth timbre of the man’s voice sent a shiver down Wille’s spine when he told him with a chuckle, “I thought you’d never ask.”; or maybe it was the way the man was leaning into Wille’s space to be heard over the steady thump of the music, the way Wille’s nostrils filled with his scent for the briefest moment. A hint of citrus buried under something sugary sweet, the latter of which Wille attributed to the faintly purple beverage he’d watched him consume several glasses of throughout the night.

He must’ve looked a bit quizzical, because the next thing he knew, the man was fixing him with a knowing smirk. “You do realize you’ve been staring at me literally all night?”

To Wille’s relief - and utter confusion - he didn’t sound like he minded this observation in the least.

Really stretching the definition of a sentence here but who’s gonna stop me, right? :D

[onelocket]

Hello Krei! How are you? So I was wondering if I could request Fyodor with a fem s/o who does ballet? And like, her teacher is super hard on her, so she keeps practicing at home and he is always cheering for her and maybe even helping her (like holding her waist for support, and all). Not a NSFW but like this closure of touches and kisses? uwu

hello fyodor’s beloved cello!! i love this idea so much and incase this is more than just an idea, i do hope you’re alright! always prioritize yourself and your health,, i’m so sorry this one took a while, but thank you for requesting ♡

pas de deux Fyodor D. x fem!ballet dancer reader

involves -- domestic relationship, possible inaccuracies but i tried to limit them! ;_;

headcanons

Initially would he only keep a quiet eye on you.

Because personally I find that Fyodor wouldn't be direct with expressing his worries to you at first, even if you have a strict teacher. He trusts you knew what you're signing up for, but sometimes it gets a bit concerning. On certain days you'd see him on a seat nearby where you practicing so he can 'look', or rather — watch over you. Because be as your talent may, if concern for you was a topic, Fyodor has a lot in his head.

"Oh- Fedya, hi." You mutter with a tiny smile, sweat cradling your cheek. He didn't like seeing it. He'd rather have his hand there.

"Milaya," He smiled back, stepping closer to you. "Was that a sauté you just did?"

"...Yeah!" You eventually reply out after a minute of surprise, smile growing. When did he learn that name?

Indirect as his words were, he deep down meant each sentence to check if you were still actually thinking in that head of yours. But he only really asks when you practiced overtime, checking if you still actually had control of your head and wasn't just practicing like a bot with scripts she couldn't comprehend in her head for world forbid what her teacher said.

As time goes, he'd be there for your small break sessions

For you did one day promise you'd take breaks in between the hours you almost comically stretch to unnaturally long sets. At first he wouldn't be there, definitely busy with his own work — but eventually did he appear more often, like he knew when you'd take your breaks. He wanted to just be there for your comfort and his assurance that you're fine, but he speaks sometimes.

"(Name)," He calls out your name in his voice you'd always relax your head to, "Would you like more water? I'll get some for you."

"Ahaha, you're a bit more caring today Fyodor." You joke out quietly, a laugh to hopefully let him take the word as something light. "But yes please, thank you."

A laugh to momentarily break the pressure you put for yourself and the concern you put for him was enough to make him smile in that same moment.

Your loyal fan

If you didn't mind it; Fyodor is always delighted to watch your practices at home, especially because he's one of the firsts to see all of your dedication before the crowd gets to see your angelic play of ballet. May it be as long as practicing a section of a dance you were going to preform soon, or even just as warming up with positions — he loved watching you, soothing his mind away from his continuous thinking.

"I must say, milaya, I don't believe I've seen that position before." Fyodor's chin rests on his intertwined fingers as his elbows meet the desk he was sitting at.

"Mm? Ah- emboîté is more of a set of steps though." You reply back, staying in your position to let the talk settle. "I still find myself a bit stiff with it, so I'm practicing it right now."

"Is that so?" He puts his hands down. "I'm intrigued then. Do continue."

Usually those points get you to explain the steps you're doing if you're still energized for talk, your voice able to make your lovely viewer also a listener. Sometimes he lies about having no knowledge to it, sometimes he just wants you to explain it to him. For you would he listen to your talk and ramble about ballet, even if he didn't do ballet himself.

Your own, visible worry breaks Fyodor's barrier of hiding his

He wouldn't want to overwhelm you with his constant check-ups like "are you okay?" or "want me to do anything?", because he'd rather have you ask for it or allow his eyes to see your physical body speak for its status. Plus, he knows you're an independent beauty who can handle herself. But when you start involuntarily stressing out however.. it's not so pretty to him.

"Shh, shh shh. Milaya, I'm here." He coos to you as he leans on the mirror behind him, holding you close in his arms with your sobbing face on his shoulder.

"You did that step so well," Fyodor whispers, one hand stroking your hair. "Be proud of yourself."

Deep down it wasn't so easy for him to know what words he should say to you, finding your fear and anxiousness unnecessary for such talent you hold in something not everyone can just do. But of course was it understandable, so he tries. Be it speaking words when he thinks you need it, grabbing you something or just holding you — do expect a lot of care to try and soothe you.

Taking care of your body gently like you're a rosebud

It doesn't happen so often, Fyodor knowing you were still able to tend to yourself. But to say something doesn't happen often doesn't mean it never does — Fyodor always there for you when you ask for it.

"Milaya, perhaps its time for another break, wouldn't you say?" He quietly suggests like a lullaby, not wanting to interrupt whatever may be in your head right now.

"I'm okay." You try to assure, "My teacher requires me to perfect this in a week... I'll perfect it, and rest if I can."

"'If I can' won't do.." He replied with a more audible voice, hands meeting your feet as he gently rubs them, "While a flower like you gets watered daily, she needs her sunlight as well."

The most he can usually do for you is to massage you or rub your sore feet from all the practice, set aside the other things he can do that mostly treat your mental being than such physical. But every time he caresses your aching body is it always so careful and much more delicate, also attentive to your own saying about your comfort.

scenario

It'd been a few hours since your practice for today. You ended up promising to Fyodor that today would be shorter than the ones you took these past consecutive days, but you deep down feel guilty for doing so.

The days to attending practice in an actual dance studio again were nigh. You were going to see your teacher in two days, and you still had to compose yourself for whatever word they'll tell you.

Of course, their criticism also helped you and your progress to the world of ballet. You were treated as if a unique flower each time you hear something you can learn from — a bit overwhelming to the ears, however important to know for being the one seen with improvement.

It still made you nervous though.

As your foot finally feels the hard pressure of the floor after having your toes balance you the whole session, you pause with your hands holding onto the barre you swore was cold this morning, now all matching your body temperature.

"Milaya, are you taking a break?" You suddenly hear a familiar voice welcome itself in your ear, a smile reaching your tired face as you see your boyfriend walking inside your small studio.

He didn't visit as much today, which honestly made you a bit upset. But at least it also aided you into giving your all earlier, even if that such was for him anyway.

"Hi, Fedya." You greet, your feminine and angelic voice equally meeting a smile on your lovers. "I'm done for today. Like I promised you."

"I'm glad to hear that." Fyodor steps closer to you with a hand gesturing its desire to touch you, to which you allow.

His slightly cold hand meets your forehead as he wipes a small bead of sweat off, head tilted a little as if concerned for you. "Would you like me to get you anything?" Was his first set of words, his other hand meeting your waist as if to give you some sort of closure.

"No, I'm fine." You deny, although as you spoke you did feel your throat a bit dry.

I do need water.. but I don't want him to leave yet.

Until a thought sparks in you.

"Mm, there is something I kind of want right now." You imply with a rather smug, yet still an adorable little smile. This wouldn't slip away from Fyodor's eyes, replying to it with his own chuckle. "And what would that be? I'm here to give what I can."

"I still feel guilty for finishing practice early." You start to explain, one of your own hand meeting to press on the hand which held your waist. "I feel like I should be giving more time, since I'll be seeing my teacher soon."

You see a temporary look on Fyodor's face. A look that indicated his own dislike for you finding the need to have your own time be controlled by another person, even if you weren't in the studio of which they have right to parry through.

But he doesn't discuss it. Instead he softens his gaze, unwilling to argue with you. "I am not forcing you on this matter, milaya. I am simply suggesting you breaks in between your hard work."

"I know," You reply, an expression of what deemed to be curiosity on your now tilted head. He knew this was just to get his ears in lead, but regardless was your face cute. "But I'll finish todays practice.. after we do something first."

"(Name), I'm not experienced in ballet." He immediately recalls to you, a genuine look of his own curiosity written on his face. You nod to the note, "I know. But you're good in blending in, right?"

Silence temporarily controls the room, although Fyodor reassuring you no anger was present in the moment with his gaze on you — hands carefully holding you.

"Oh, I see." He eventually speaks up, letting go of your waist. "You'd like us to have a duet?"

His grasp of understanding your point makes you eagerly nod, "Yeah. A pas de deux is what we call it." explaining its term to your clueless looking boyfriend.

A smile meets his lips to the answer you have thoughtlessly given, enjoying your disregard to hide vulnerability with your sleepiness. "Pas de deux is French. A step of two?"

"Yes!" You exclaim rather excitedly, both of your hands finding its fingers to interlock into fists as your right palm leans back, earning you this.. almost pleading pose. "But don't worry- I won't make you do work.. I just want us to have an adagio."

"As long as I've seen you do such pose, I could give you the possibility of me doing it." He puts a side comment to before replying properly; "But of course. An adagio is where the danseur supports the ballerina's movements, am I right?"

"How do you know that..?" You furrow your eyebrows to, a small yet blithe pout on your face. "My, you suddenly rambled about that before." Fyodor hums out, a hand on his chin. "But nevermind that, milaya. We can do that if such is your wish," He stops to escape a little laugh, "however I'm not a danseur exactly."

"No but you're certainly my partner." You fight back, taking a swift glance at Fyodor's appearance. He was simply wearing a turtleneck and pants, which would do. Because really, you just wanted to feel him while you did what you loved.

Your remark makes Fyodor laugh before you two knew your place — him behind you with arms supporting your waist, toes returning into balancing yourself. You wanted to impress your lover, but with how tired you actually were you internally doubted what balance you had left in you.

So you chose one you could do right now. Little less of what you wanted, but you hoped it could impress him somehow.

One of your leg was supporting your body, the other is extended into an arabesque. You felt Fyodor's grip on you tighten a little bit, the corner of your eye catching his head turned to you.

Your arm which was adjacent to your lifted leg stays where it is as your left makes its attempt to draw its move... till you find yourself yawning.

Immediately did you bashfully cover your mouth as pink meets your cheeks, Fyodor holding onto you tightly in case you trip due to the sudden surprise. As you yawn he carefully adjusts you, enough for you to get the hint and let your feet meet the floor again.

You didn't want to see his face right now out of pure embarrassment, but his move tells you to as he turns you around, hands locking on your waist to support you.

As expected, not a look of mockery or humorous find was in his face, rather.. concern, but also still soft.

"You're too sleepy." He whispers, one hand letting go of the latch to meet your face, brushing away those strands of hair. "This lovely ballerina should sleep now."

"But the..." Your voice trails, a tiny frown painting on your face as he wipes it away with a kiss on each side of your lip, turning that into a better look. "There now, there's no need to frown." He spoke quietly, "If you want it that badly, we can try it tomorrow."

"...Okay," Defeat mourns your words in, trying to conceal the topic of your embarrassing yawn with a lean in, asking for a proper kiss by Fyodor. And it didn't even take a minute for him to allow the need, pressing his lips with yours.

Gentle and delicate circles rub your back as you melt at both the kiss and at the sudden but welcoming massage, hands holding onto his shoulders for support.

His kiss felt warm, tranquilly and clement. While his earlier, very rare visits to your practice room were gifted with kisses, they were all tiny and lacking.

And you could tell he enjoyed this as well, his fingers making subtle movements that felt like little shivers down your waist. A comforting one, at least.

The kiss takes shorter as you desired, however he makes up for it by peppering sweet kisses on your knuckles to the hand he picked up with his free one, eyes closed.

"я тебя люблю, my milaya." He mutters in between those kisses. "You're such a strong girl. Be mindful of that."

Your mousy pink cheeks meet the peachy hue he knew it'd blend to, a smile meeting your lips again as you let your fingers rest on his, your thumb catching his own to rub the skin. "I love you too."

His hand lets go of yours as he stops. His hand on your back would glide down to your waist to touch again as he pulls you in closer, you taking that as a hug. Both of your hands wrap around him, whilst his free hand continued the relieving massage.

"It's alright. Let's get yourself changed then head to bed, okay?" He whispers in your ear, to which you hum a sleepy sound to.

You didn't want to sleep right now, as much as how warm and serene he was to lean onto. But knowing he probably was also too tired to be carrying a girl even if such was his girlfriend, you had to stay awake till the envelope of sheets surround you two.

Yet staying awake till then wouldn't be as bad either. You'd get to hear and see your lover take care of you.. to rub all those sore spots away, and importantly be here for you.

"Besides, if a pas de deux means a step for two — you can technically count this in... wouldn't you think?" He suddenly adds, finding his unexpected thought carry through vocalized words.

His own surprise for himself makes him let out a tiny chuckle from it, muffling the noise with a soft peck on your shoulder.

"Because you being so strong with everything you're dealing with is already a step for us two."

⚘

[hey-kae]

If you're still down to write I would like to request something. I'm thinking of some pissed pierre smut. First him being happy about this quali and then getting the penalties and you're more then happy to help him get his anger out.

a/n: i am definitely still down to write but no one is acknowledging me🙃

Pierre was really happy about qualifying p4, happy enough that it broke your heart when you found out about his penalty. He was gonna start the race from p10 now.

But he wasn’t sad about it like you were. He was absolutely fuming when he rejoined you in the evening after the decision had been made.

If it was his fault, he would’ve kept his mouth shut, but was it really that hard to keep an eye on the radar and warn him about cars behind him that were on a fast lap?

He walked back into the room, mumbling to himself in unintelligible french as he pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor, not caring where it landed.

“Hey…” You stood up and went to him, “Are you… Are you okay?” The question hesitantly slipped past your lips.

Pierre’s hands wrapped around your waist, tugging you to him, and by the way his fingers dug into your sides, you got your answer.

“No, i’m not.” He answered, barely even answering the question before his lips were on yours and he was kissing you hurriedly and with desperation.

You felt his anger in the way his teeth bit onto your bottom lip, but you didn’t mind him taking out his anger on you. You knew he would never cross your limits, even when he was upset.

With slight pressure onto your hips, he pushed you back onto the bed until you were laying down and he was hovering over you, biting onto your neck and kissing down your chest, as far as your top would let him go.

“You’re gonna be good for me?” He stared into your eyes and asked.

You nodded and that was all it took for him to get rid of your clothes and his, tossing them into the growing pile on the side of the bed.

“Turn around.” Pierre kept his sentences brief and straight to the point, still frowning with anger in his eyes.

You gladly complied and turned onto your stomach.

Almost instantly, his hand met you ass in a light slap, then another.

“Don’t move.” He said and before you could even acknowledge his request, he slammed into you all at once, setting an exhilarating pace right from the start.

You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out and at the way his hands were tight around your waist, moving you as he pleased. Pierre already could feel you clench around him, making a smug smile appear on his face.

“Relax,” he ordered, giving your ass one last spank, “and let me fuck you properly.”

As always, you did what he asked.

Every thrust was making the bed shake and simultaneously, your knees buckle. You couldn’t help the moans, especially when Pierre would grunt himself, driving you absolutely mad.

It was barely minutes before you were struggling to keep your composure.

“You like it so much, huh? When i use you to blow some steam?” He reached forward and started rubbing your clit in rushed circular motions, discarding your leg’s last hope of survival. Your knees gave up on you as the moans turned into straggled breathing.

Pierre was still frowning tho, keeping up the same angry pace, “Tell me. Answer my question.”

“Fuck, Pierre. Yes.” You forced out the words, pushing yourself back against him since his thrusts had come to a halt.

“Exactly. Fuck yourself on my cock… And i thought i was desperate.” He huffed as his hands grabbed your hips again, hard enough to bruise this time, “Stop.”

You stopped and he took the lead again, his fingers still moving against your clit as well.

“You take what i give you, and only that. Don’t be greedy, okay?” He leaned forward and spoke right into your ear, biting the supple skin of your neck as well.

You just nodded, your eyes screwing shut as you felt him hit that spot that made you see stars.

His rhythm was speeding up as he lost control of his movements, letting instinct take over until you were contracting around him and whimpering his name, your hands holding onto the sheets like your life depended on it as an intense orgasm shook your body.

Pierre kept going even then, both his hands on your waist now, every push making your legs shake as the orgasm heightened your sensitivity. He maintained the movements until you felt him fill you up, moaning as he let go, repeating the french curse words from earlier, in different circumstances now.

He then allowed himself to fall onto the bed beside you, his arms pulling you to lay on top of him while he breathed heavily.

You stared up at him, the blue of eyes hidden behind his eyelids as he laid back silently to catch his breath, but soon enough he felt your gaze on him and so his eyes, significantly softer now, met yours.

“Merci.” He whispered, kissing your lips gently now as his arms wrapped around you.

“I love you.” You said as you rested your head on his chest, tracing small circles on his shoulder, knowing better than to bring up tomorrow’s race.

“Me too. I love you too.” He responded, thankful that you always understood him so well.

a/n: thank you for sending in your request🫶🏻

[johnwickb1tsch]

Rambling time again because-✨ late night thoughts ✨

So with each new chapter of bittersweet, (and the tex+john collab, which I could also ramble on for hours probably 😂) it's becoming more and more clear that John and the reader's relationship is currently like a stretched out elastic band. They're both very clear on what they want, they're both very stubborn about it, and aside from little sweet moments - or not so sweet moments 😏- here and there, they're basically getting pushed to the limits of their patience and sanity.

And it especially struck me with John, because let's be honest- The man is terrified of letting us go, letting our leash go in a metaphorical sense, in terms of something getting our of his control. It makes absolute sense with the life he lived, and especially with the amount of people he lost, Helen being the most relevant. Despite working for Ruska Roma and serving the Director during his early life, John has been in control for the most of his existence. He usually stays very cool and controlled from an outsider's view, but someone like Winston can easily see through him, and knows that he's anything but. He's calm, sure, but he's also impatient when it comes to things, hotheaded even if you look at the second movie - or any of them really - and what he did to Santino (who fucking deserved it, and I wanted to tap-dance on his corpse 😂). He's stubborn as a mule, and most importantly, he's not afraid to break the rules. Ever. Due to his skills, there really isn't many people who could hold his responsible if he does happen to break the rules either, and this also plays hand in hand with the fact that he was born and raised a morally dark/grey character. While all of this helps him a lot because he's practically unstoppable if he puts his mind to something, it also means that he is irrational, maybe even slightly delusional.

Have I mentioned that he's also very emotionally driven??? Look at him during the first 2 movies. The man went fucking bat-shit-crazy after people NOT disturbed him, but disrespected his late wife's memory, and pretty much ripped everything away from him that still tied him to Helen, - aside from their memories and his feelings - the very person who prompted this emotionally driven action from him to actually get out out of the life he once lived.

So now.. We have this extremely stubborn, and also extremely emotionally attached person, who lost pretty much everyone close to him, and is in fact very much so aware that his reputation means a death-sentence to pretty much anyone who interacts with him, INCLUDING little ol' us. So on a basic level, he is rightfully cautious and terrified, because people will not stop to consider whether they're bringing an innocent into this or not, they just want leverage over him.

This, combined with the fact that we, the reader, are also extremely stubborn (too), with a great amount of self-respect, an incredible display of self-esteem, and a set of although grey, but also pretty strict moral code, - where the lines do blur here and there depending on who does what, and why they do it - which he LOVES, however it also means that we're unpredictable. Attracted to him? Sure. Emotionally attached to him? Absolutely. But we're a strong individual and a free spirit, and that definitely made him doubt whether we would stay with him early on, (jealous!John intensifies 🤤) and is in fact actively making his paranoid that if he slips up, let's his defenses down, or maybe even becomes more lenient, we might be able to just slip out of his grasp, not that he'd ever allow it of course.

Buuuuuuuuuut- All of this is playing against him, against both of us really. While we might be able to get some kind of leverage over him the more he reveals, and the more time we spend learning the game, if there is to be a genuine relationship in the future like he wants there to be, like both of us want there to be really, he's doing this the wrong way, because he's basically trying to force it on us, and cage a free bird, thus the elastic band being stretched. And as we know, you can stretch an elastic band quite far, maybe even past it's limits sometimes, but at the end of the day, it will rip and it will snap back three times as hard, which is what I imagine will happen. Maybe not today, or not even tomorrow, but there is a limit to everything, including the patience of both characters, not to mention that John is already showing the signs of being tired with our constant stubbornness, (latest chapter 🤤) and if say.. He were to snap instead of us, it may very well snap us out of our helpless emotional state, in case he maybe were to overstep a line that he definitely shouldn't have.

Same goes for the reader. Poor girl is extremely strong, so, so strong, with an incredible sense of self-worth but there is a limit to that as well. She still hasn't quite processed that her family and friends practically abandoned her, and it's not like John's back and forth, their little cat and mouse games, or being punished for not behaving a certain way - which makes John an absolute hypocrite because unless he wants to change our personality completely, he should not be punishing us for showing signs of what he fell in love with, of who he fell in love with in the first place - are helping.. So honestly- I await whatever you have in store for us because it is going to be WILD.

Spooooky! LOL once again I have to ask if you've been rummaging in my WIP??? 😂 You make so many excellent points!

Especially that John's excessive enemies would definitely fuel his paranoia for keeping this girl under lock and key, after EVERYTHING he's lost. 🎡🏹 It's like it's just not enough to be John Fucking Wick. These idiots keep testing him, even though they should absolutely fucking know he's going to kill them all in the end. BUT that doesn't help you if you're the collateral damage...

AND he IS such a hypocrite because of course he fell in love with her for her independent nature, but he wants to be the one to bring her to heel, for his own peace of mind? I think she's into it to a point because she's never really met anyone who could do it (and still retain her love). It's new and mysterious but once the shine wears off and she gets her feet (because shit what are we on? Like day 2? 3? He's going to find out how stubborn she can really be. You're right, something's going to snap.

[fayamn]

Feedee or Feeder: Bridget

This is two scenes with Bridget from Guilty Gear as a feedee or a feeder. Gender neutral reader.

Feedee Bridget

E-Easy as pie...! Ayayay... I'm so full... It's fine I can count on you to prepare my food without the stuff I dislike... Yeah, you know it! Bitter herbs and shiitake mushrooms, bleh... It's not like there is space for that between the sweets and the greasy food huh? It's no good, you're filling me on quite the unhealthy diet... Don't you worry about that, I love all of it. The food, the extra weight, the attention... You just have to accept you've made it hell for me to find cute clothes, meanie! Wait! No fair! You can't threaten me with giving me less food! I know you enjoy this at least as much as I do. And you can't deny it, I almost have the imprint of your hands on my belly by now. All right feed me more, I really want to make my wasted bounty hunting career worth every single pound.

Hmph! Wait! Too fast! My limit? I'm just getting started! You're too eager, my cuteness requires you to be more gentle and - UuurRrrp! Oh... That wasn't very professional of me... Not that there much professional left on display here, except professional eater. And professional cutie of course, you're right. Hmmm... I know you wanted me to keep the handcuff hula-hoop around my waist until my absolute limit... Well... It's now... Oh, I'm dizzy... It's too tight, help me remove it! Hmmm... Aha! Much better! Behold! Unleashed lard! Oh I look so much fatter without that pressing in... I know there's no way I'm ever putting it back on, you're making sure of that - umf! Right Now by schtuffing my fache even - ulp! More. You can wait between two sentences you know, I'm not going anywhere! Urp...

Slow, huh? Of course look at what a blimp you made me! I'm short too, so my BMI shot through the roof... And I'm definitely not burning calories and yo-yo tricks and moving... Don't tell me you think those clumsy weak fat hands are for holding anything more than junk food now! And my flabby legs are for jumping around, I'm not getting an inch off the ground. I'm not even getting off my butt most of the time anyways. Hmph! Woopsies! Oh yeah that was definitely my skirt... Appropriate that my butt ruined it when I was talking about it. It's okay don't bother trying to retrieve it now, no spelunking of my fat rolls until you're done feeding me. Going easy on me? Does it look like I can't take it? Keep the calories coming, I need more belly to cover any indecent parts, and to have more of the cutest thing around~

UuuUurrrRrpp!... Oof! How's this? Okay now I'm reeaaally getting stuffed... Which means... Time to get your hands on my gut. How yeah it's huge and soft and heavy? You bet, I only have the biggest and fattest belly around. So, happy to have engorged, fattened, plumped me this much? Reaching down for the skirt? Good luck digging it out, I'm not budging while you're all up on me, it's too good. Hehe, got you! Did I fluster you pushing your head in my belly fat? S-Stop! You're making me blush~ Ah, your hands feel so good yes! Knead my plump fat dough, I'm so stretched from the stuffing but there is too much blubber on top you can even barely feel it. And what I'm digesting now is gonna make me so much fatter than now, a poor little obese thing that is filling our couch.

Now now, help me get up! I want to lie down, and we're gonna have a way better time in the bedroom anyways. Haaa... Haaa... And I'm up, aha! Huff... Look what I can do! I can stand, I can waddle... Enjoying the show of my gut reaching my thighs? You better, it's not going anywhere. What? No, I'm not jumping, I'm already tired!... Fine, I wanna try too. And... Whao! What happened? I didn't leave the ground did I? But that noise the planks made... That was scary. I better go to the bed before I break something. Well, might break the bed soon given how I'm overfed like a piggy. Aaah, finally! I'm not the nimble thin cutie I used to be... Now I'm a ton more cute~ Well, not yet. You know what? That little walk freed some space in my stomach that requires a snack...

Feeder Bridget

Whoever you are, welcome to the show! Too slow! Whoop, caught ya! Too easy! Mind holding yourself right in my yo-yo string for a while? Let me give your face a good look. Oh, you're cute... But I'm way cuter. And also I don't have a bounty on my face, meanwhile you have, and I'm going to be the one who claims it. You're not going to resist if I unbind you? Yeah, would have guessed you'd try and be a pain in my butt. Guess it's time for plan B then. Or F, for Fattening. Oh yeah, I've tried it before, it's effective at pacifying baddies like you. Oh, I wouldn't? Don't underestimate the cute ones! You already did, that's why you're bound and on the floor, and you're the one of us that is going to be morbidly obese and all docile soon. How's that? Woo boy... I'm definitely going to prefer you with cheeks too puffed up to protest.

Of course I'm prepared for that, I gotta admit it's super fun. How about a treat? Take this! Here we go! The little candy I made you swallow is just gonna make you fat. How did I get that? Money can get you a lot. Looking plushier already. And it's just the beginning! My yo-yo string is starting to feel snug huh? Don't worry, you won't break it, it's pretty solid. Not soft, unlike what you're getting. What's this, getting tubby aren't you? Ripping? Oh, that's your clothes, still not my yo-yo. Let me check those legs... Yeah should be fine, those are soft and plump now~ Here's a bonus! I should have told you before, but the fat forms by reducing your muscles, so you're gonna feel extra weak. And you're gonna feel that because you'll be. As soft and weak as a plushie!

Here you go. Get going! You're free! Are you even trying? Just kidding of course. must be so hard to be obese and weak now. Aha, you're waddling already? Out of breath... Come on, you're not that fat. You're still squeezed in your clothes! Although that's not an outfit I'd be going outside with. Huh, you're kidding me? So not cute, I'm glad I made you ruin it with lard. Too bad there aren't any cute outfits that's going to fit you once I'm done fattening you up. You thought it was over? Not done yet~ The first candy did well, but I'm sure you're gonna try something, you're not fat enough! Want some more? No? Come on, you'll love this! Oh of course it's too much. I don't know the meaning of quit. And you just had not to act tough. Aren't you happy you're given attention and a new body?

Here it goes! You're growing again! Aww, it's already too late for escaping... How slow do you waddle? My casual walking outpaces you. Aaah, giving up, that's more like it. Or is it the lack of muscles in your legs now with the extra blubber to lug around? Oh you're so tired. You're done! Just as your clothes, geez. It's so indecent... Luckily you have a natural apron to hide your crotch huh? Might have to roll you in now. I hope they'll recognize you with your bounty poster, because that lard has made you quite the disguise. I guess we'll find out when we get there. What's that look? Embarrassed? I mean, you should be, you're a bloated fatty standing in the shreds of your former clothes, just for being caught for your bounty by the cutest bounty hunter there is.

There! Come here... Oh, you won't move now? How frustrating! What can I do... It's not my first bounty not cooperating after extreme obesity you know? And I know exactly what to do with a piggy your size. Aww, blushing? Read you like a book. You're enjoying this, all of this, right fatty? Come on, you like having a cutie like me groping you, teasing you? What a wonderful thing I did to engorge you like you're cattle, don't you think? I'll charge up your batteries for you to walk, a massage of your massive body will be enough huh? Let me press right there... Aww, what a cute burp. Good, I'm sure you're going to enjoy it. I might give you a treat too if you beg enough. And if that's not enough to make you follow me, I guess I'll have to drag you in with my yo-yo string around your neck like a leash. Are you ready? Because I sure am!

[ficbandit]

Chapter III: Die Hard, Flirt Harder

(read this on AO3!)

Suga drags his eyes away from the man’s chest up to his face and, not for the first time this morning, wishes he was 6ft under.

Daichi Sawamura, partner at OKD Law and his boss, is halfway inside the doorframe, one impossibly toned arm stretched across the door, holding it open. His other is at Suga’s hip, steadying the both of them so they don’t topple out of the building. He’s so close that Suga can see the almost invisible scar just above his upper lip.

His very pretty upper lip.

“Sugawara,” the sound of his name in Daichi’s mouth—real and outside of his head—is enough to make Suga’s ears burn. “Good morning.”

Ever since he came to work at OKD Law, Suga has been resolute about avoiding the incredibly charming, impossibly attractive attorney in the office. Daichi is the kind of man who sweeps secretaries off their feet, takes clients out to dinners, and racks up crazy bills, who most definitely had women throwing themselves at his feet both at work and outside of it. It didn’t matter that Suga had a hard time looking away from the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, or that whenever they made eye contact in the office Suga felt like he was going to spontaneously combust.

That definitely did not matter at all.

It had only taken him a few hours on his first day to decide that Daichi Sawamura was completely off-limits and out of his league, and he was determined to live by that rule for however long he worked at OKD.

I didn’t think I’d see him this morning.

The thought is so quietly genuine that it takes Suga a minute to remember how to put words together for a moment.

“Uh—good morning, sir. Sorry, I was just—my train was slow this morning, and my bike—and then I realized I don’t have my keycard—”

Daichi stays perfectly still as Suga stumbles through his sentence, his smile deepening a little as he rambles. Suga watches the scar above his lip disappear and his train of thought dissolves completely. He feels the urge to reach up and trace the edge of the nearly invisible mark with his finger.

“I think I can help you with that.”

 He’s so close—

Suga swallows thickly and steps back quickly, pulling out of Daichi’s touch. The thought dissipates like it never existed, and he finds himself missing the weight of it in his mind, unlike every other thought he’s heard this morning.

Suga wants to slap himself. This, THIS, is exactly why he can’t trust himself to be around Daichi Sawamura. The man turns him into some kind of mumbling, pervy mess, the kind that ogles straight men and gets reported to HR. And fired too, probably.

“Thank you, sir. Sorry for…for…” he gestures vaguely at the door behind him. Daichi watches him, slightly amused, and waves a dismissive hand.  

“My fault. I saw you coming, and I just…couldn’t stop myself.”

Silence falls between them again, and Suga finds himself staring up at him, wide-eyed, too caught up in the idea that Daichi Sawamura saw him coming and couldn’t stop, and whether the innuendo in that is as clear to him as it is to him. He feels his ears grow even warmer.

Suga really, really, needs to slam his head in the turnstile.

It’s Yui’s voice that draws him away from those thoughts, making them both glance over to where she’s been waiting, watching them with raised eyebrows.

“Suga, I’m going to head up, maybe grab you that coffee, alright?” She gives him a knowing look that makes his stomach flop. “Good morning, sir,” she gives Daichi a quick nod before escaping to the elevators, taking Suga’s last hope of a buffer with her.

Looking back, he shouldn’t have told her about his hopeless office crush on their boss. He’d known it would probably cost him one day, and it seems like that day is today.

“Should we…?” He seems unbothered, though, almost as if he’s willing to stand there in the doorway to the building for however long it takes Suga to collect his thoughts. His heart skips more than a few beats.

“Yes!” Suga nods and manages a half-choked laugh, spinning around quickly and beelining for the turnstile. “Sorry.”

He waits off to the side for Daichi to enter first, gaze resolutely fixed on the turnstile as the other man digs around in his own bag for his keycard, ready to tap them both in. He only looks up at him when Daichi freezes in place, hand searching a little more frantically in his bag before he sighs.

No way.

“I guess it’s a bad morning for the both of us, huh?” Daichi dejectedly zips his bag back up. “I’ll ask the security guard if they can let us through without a keycard.”

Suga follows him silently to the nearby security desk, trailing like a lost duckling. It’s fine, he rationalizes. Daichi Sawamura is a named partner of one of the biggest law firms in the city. He owns an entire floor of this building. They’ll let them in.

“Sorry, no can do,” the security guard mutters, not even looking up from his phone. “No key card, no entrance.”

Suga’s gaze flits to Daichi, his eyes widening at the flutter of a muscle at the back of his jaw. It’s hot, hotter than seeing your straight boss pissed should be—if you want to keep your job—and Suga tears his gaze away quickly.

“I understand,” Daichi says, his tone polite but edged with something sharper. Suga sucks in a quiet breath. “But can you maybe call up my office? My colleague will be able to confirm—”

“No. Can. Do,” the man emphasizes. He jams a thick finger at the sign to his right that reads ALL VISITORS MUST HAVE KEYCARDS OR PRIOR AUTHORIZATION TO ENTER. NO EXCEPTIONS. He goes back to his phone like they’re not even there.

Suga thinks Daichi might reach across the desk and grab the guy’s phone from the glare he gives him. He casts a frantic look across the lobby, searching for anyone who might be able to help, when he catches sight of the mail room elevator sitting across the lobby, completely open.  

Suga puts a hand on Daichi’s forearm, trying to subtly pull him towards the elevator when his thoughts hit him with full force.

Fucking prick, he’s muttering, voice low and dark. I don’t need this right now, not this morning, and not in front of him—

The hair on the back of Suga’s neck stands up at the sound of it. He’s surprised that Daichi would care so much about him witnessing this interaction, but he assumes it has something to do with asserting authority and dominance over subordinates and whatever else men in power like him worry about. Still, the sound of it makes his mouth go a little dry.

He has to clear his throat to speak when Daichi turns towards him, eyes softening a fraction as they slip away from the security guard.

“I think I know another way,” he hisses under his breath, his eyes flitting to the service elevator. He drops his hand and feels his connection to Daichi slip away. “Over here.”

He starts for the elevator, looking back only to make sure that his boss is following him, and that the security guard hasn’t picked up on anything. Daichi hesitates at the desk for a second, before he gives the man one last glare and follows him, brow furrowed.

His confused look doesn’t dissipate as Suga presses the button for the elevator and casts a wary glance back at the security guard.

“What’s this?”

“Service elevator,” Suga says under his breath, leaning in as subtly as he can. He gives Daichi a conspiratorial look. “No keycard needed.”

The other man blinks at him for a moment before a smirk curls the corners of his lips.

“Are you breaking into our office, Sawamura?”

Suga’s eyes widen a fraction at the subtle playfulness in Daichi’s voice and the way his smirk makes him look boyish—less like his boss and more like someone Suga might meet on a night out. Someone Suga might not mind seeing again after that, either.

“I…well, I don’t think we were getting anywhere with him,” Suga jerked a thumb back at the security guard. “We shouldn’t both have to clock in late because of him.”

Daichi’s eyes brighten a little.

“Well, I don’t exactly clock in,” he murmurs, leaning in conspiratorially. “But don’t worry. I promise I won’t punish you for being late. The breaking in part, though—well, I might have to call you into my office for that.”

All at once, Suga forgets about his bike and the train and his keycard and loses himself in the way Daichi is looking at him. His blood sings under his skin. His thoughts are a chorus of This is your boss, Koushi, stop it and Do not fall for this fucking straight man, but they dissolve into the horny static that’s replaced his brain. He thinks back to the tone of voice Daichi used with the security guard and wonders—just hypothetically, of course, out of pure gay curiosity—what he’d have to do to get him to use that tone with him.

“Well, I—”

He’s interrupted by the elevator doors opening in front of them, and the security shouting at them from across the lobby.

“Hey, you two! Get back here, you can’t use that!”

Daichi’s gaze snaps back towards the security guard, who’s now vaulting over the desk like he’s fucking John McClane. Suga briefly wonders if there’s anything in the entire fucking building that’s worth that kind of effort before he feels himself being dragged into the open elevator and pushed against the wall beside the panel of buttons.

Daichi is standing over him, one hand by his head and the other punching the button to close the doors like he can block the security guard from him somehow. They both watch as the man sprints across the linoleum, only to reach the doors as they close on his face. He slams a hand on the metal doors and Suga can hear his faint shout from outside before they start moving upward.

Everything is suddenly quiet, save for the whirring of the elevator and the sound of them catching their breaths. Their chests are so close that they nearly brush against each other as they rise and fall, and Suga tries and fails not to think about it. Daichi’s chest is broader than his, and this close he can see the cords of his muscles beneath that button-up, tense and coiled after their daring escape.

Maybe he should just hand in his resignation when he walks into the office. He could write it up when he gets in, print it out, walk to Daichi’s office, set it on his desk, and announce he’s leaving. He’d probably look up at him with that same look from before, that kind of confused amusement that makes his eyes soft and the scar disappear, and Suga would probably kiss him, just because he finally could.

All in all, it doesn’t seem like that bad of a plan.

“Sugawara?”

Daichi steps back, ducking his head a little to catch his eyes. He’s giving him that boyish smile again, though it’s tinged with a bit of concern. Suga swallows thickly and collects himself.

“Sorry…what?”

“Lost you there for a moment. Are you okay?”

He drops his hand from its place beside Suga’s head, taking a few steps back to set his back against the opposite wall of the elevator. The distance feels sudden and violent after how close they’d been, and Suga crosses his arms across his chest against the feeling.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he manages to huff out a laugh. “I just…wasn’t expecting this much excitement this morning.”

Daichi gives him a nod, hands braced on the railing of the elevator behind him. He watches the number on the small screen above the doors rise slowly.

“I know what you mean,” he chuckles. He runs a hand through his hair and Suga follows the movement against his will. “My morning’s been hectic enough as it is without staging a Die Hard plot to get into the office.”

Suga’s eyes widen, and he smiles.

“Oh my god, I was thinking the same thing!” He laughs, forgetting his nerves momentarily. “Did you see him vault over the desk? That was insane!”

Thankfully, Daichi looks just as excited as he feels.

“I thought we were screwed,” he laughs. “Who knew he cared about his job that much?”

They both laugh, and the sound of it makes Suga go a little quiet. Something about it feels far more familiar and right than it should.

He watches the number rise above 25. They have a minute to go to reach the 48th floor, but Suga suddenly wishes it were moving slower. He has the intrusive urge to reach out and press all the buttons before their floor.

“We’ve never really talked in the office, have we?”

Daichi is the one to break the comfortable quiet, his eyes on Suga when he looks away from the buttons.

“No,” Suga scratches at the back of his neck, the question reminding him once again he’s with his boss. “I work on the other side of the office, with Oikawa-san.”

“Right,” Daichi nods, “that explains it then.” He can still feel the other man’s eyes on him. “Tooru’s mentioned you, you know,” he adds. “He says you do great work.”

Suga looks up at him then, surprised. Oikawa Tooru isn’t exactly one for praise—opting instead to point out mistakes curtly and assign extra work at terrible times—and Suga always assumed he just wasn’t on the man’s radar. He was a partner, after all, and the one who’d inherited the firm from his dad at that. Suga had always thought it was safer to work unnoticed beneath him than try for that praise.

Still, hearing it was nice, especially when it came from the man opposite of him. Suga gave him a genuine smile.

“That’s…good to hear. Thank you, Daichi-san.”

Daichi’s smile falters a little, his eyes hard to follow in the dim lighting of the elevator. Suga wonders if he said something wrong. Was he not supposed to thank him for that? Or was the absurdity of their morning finally striking him as horribly inappropriate for a boss and employee?

“Sorry, your…uh, your tie,” Daichi nods at his chest, “I think it’s a little. Here—”

He pushes off the opposite railing and steps back into Suga’s space before he can blink, his hands coming up to fuss with the botched knot at the base of his throat. He yanks at it a little, and Suga’s jaw tightens as his brain reduces to static again.

The only thing that cuts through it is a thought, warm and intoxicating in the way it settles into Suga’s mind like it’s his own. It’s so familiar that it takes him a moment to realize, with a start, that it isn’t his at all.

Sugawara Koushi.

The thought takes its time like it’s memorizing each syllable of his name.

Suga freezes.

Completely oblivious, Daichi finally finishes with his tie and pats his handiwork with a friendly hand, catching his eye.

“There you go.”

Another thought bubbles up, just as dizzying as the last.

I need to see you again. --- A/N: Surprise! I couldn't stop and got out another chapter lol. Enjoy! xx

[zerolostwalks]

Julie/Luke/Reggie dystopian au plz and thank

“Shh, shh, Julie it’s us,” the words were whispered right into her ear, though it took a while for her brain to recognize the voice, too caught up fighting to escape the hold she’d unexpectedly found herself in. 

Julie stopped her thrashing, Reggie’s arms tightening around her as she relaxed against him, which only made the tears overwhelming her eyes all the worse, unable to control her broken sobs. “R-Reggie?”

Another set of arms wrapped around her, Luke’s voice joining Reggie’s in trying to unsuccessfully calm her down, “that’s right, Jules, we’re here now, we're back.”

(Send me an AU and a pairing and I'll write a 3 sentence fic)

[trashcandroid]

It’s October 13th again which means it’s now my 4-year anniversary on T 🥳

Ponderous reflections under the cut, slight TMI warning for discussions bottom surgery

The biggest news in terms of trans stuff is that I got top surgery this past May and have tentative plans to get bottom surgery early next year! I already had my first consult a few weeks ago but still need another follow-up and some letters, but it seems like everything’s gonna work out fine?

I’ve decided on getting full metoidioplasty with the works. Apparently hysto, v-nectomy, urethral lengthening, etc. are all pretty uncomfortable to recover from on their own and even worse all together lol but I would rather have a shitty first month or two in recovery rather than have multiple surgeries spread over more time.

Which reminds me, I never really talked about how my top surgery recovery went/has been going. It was actually really fine, I didn’t even need painkillers? Basically once the drains were removed after a week and I could stop wearing the compression vest after a month, I haven’t thought about it much at all. I’m wearing silicon scar tape but that’s pretty much it. Actually because I felt no pain I returned to physical activities sooner than I should have—I was carrying my backpack which was definitely over the 10 lb limit and even went swimming and stuff pretty soon, and my scars are pretty stretched now lol. But I don’t particularly care about that.

Other stuff… I’ve been stealth at grad school for this past year and while it’s been cool, I’ve been considering telling some people so I can be a resource or something idk. Especially with the bottom surgery stuff since I’m getting it through the university and it’s been hard finding any information about it outside of my own meetings with the surgeons.

I’ve also been thinking about being more open about it in general, so grad/undergrad students can see me as a resource, or just to increase visibility of trans people in STEM or whatever… but that would require people actually knowing this stuff… I didn’t even tell my advisor when I had top surgery that I was getting surgery, I just said I’d be taking a week off for “family stuff.”

I’m sure most people would be cool with it but I’m also for some reason terrified of responses like “oh that explains so much” or “I thought you might be.” And of course the inevitable subconscious change in how some people will view me. I’ve heard so many stories of how people coming out of stealth start getting misgendered and I could definitely see that happening to me as well…

Stuff with family is going ok. I still don’t think my dad has ever correctly gendered me once. He will awkwardly stumble through sentences to avoid using pronouns for me, or if he gets really stuck he’ll use they/them (which I don’t use). Mostly he and some other people will just use my name a whole bunch, which I guess I should have seen coming since my name is only one syllable. Maybe I should’ve changed it to Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla huh. (I may have already used this joke so mb if I have lol)

My mom has also explicitly asked me to be more of a trans resource to my brother, who has been presenting a lot more femininely lately. But I have no idea how to bring it up and idk if I should write much about that here anyway.

I think this post is long enough lol so I will stop rambling but yeah if people have any thoughts on this stuff I’m open for discussion ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[roydeezed]

So I hadn't read any Terry Pratchett before, but I just started Good Omens. I thought it would be a good introduction as I would get a re-primer before diving into the second season and I would get an introduction to Pratchett through one of my favourite authours, Neil Gaiman. Every once in a while I read an authour who makes me envious and inspires me through their writing style, plot structure, or deft handling of characters, but it's been a while since anything's laid me out as much as these passages:

Pratchett or Gaiman or both(Honestly if Gaimans began or had much of a presence yet I have not realized, it's amazingly seamless), cut bone deep with this part.

David Tennant always played Crowley with a heartbreaking pathos, in which we could tell his shunning of rules and limitations stretched into him being a good soul despite being a demon, but this cracks my heart in two.

In only a few sentences, the pair are able to evoke the beauty and duality of humanity, in a way that the reader can't help but assigns their own definitions to it, while also creating a character that wants to be able to change. A demon more sympathetic to humans than the angels themselves.

I'm only 49 pages into my copy and I'm already on the verge of tears. What the fuck?

And I could end it here but genuinely it takes on such a wild degree of relevance in the current time of conflict. Is it better to sit on the fence as something goes on in a place far away that will never affect you, or do you voice an opinion or pick a side? And is that any better? Are you just feeding into that conflict? It kind of paints those of us removed from places of conflicts as those largely unaffected while the only thing that really separates us isn't the fact that we haven't given into something we deem a lower level of humanity in its barbarism, but purely and plainly circumstance.

Also, much like one of my favourite Mangaka, Naoki Urasawa, Pratchett seems to have this quality where he's able to discuss philosophy and build characters with the same token, albeit in a more humourous way.

I've come across some Pratchett lines before, like a few Hogfather clips and others through cultural osmosis, and his writing seems to have such empathy towards humanity while also being irreverent.

I am so curious and excited to find more quotes and moments from Pratchett, and I can't wait to find out if what I've stated is true in a few books or even a few more pages.

[cerriddwenluna]

writer asks: 16, 24, & 25 :p

*cracks knuckles* Alright, lets do this! <3

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of (yes, I'm switching them round cause this deserves to be above the cut ;))

It's an excerpt from my very first published fic Wild Rose, which is still the most honest and raw fiction I have ever written (Note: This is NOT talking about Kurt or Blaine, I could never kill my darlings ;))

“It is going to take time. It has only been a few weeks since our world got turned upside down. We are going to cry and scream and shout and want to break things and not get out of bed some days. And we will let ourselves take that time to grieve the loss of such a vital part of ourselves. We will feel it all, and then, in time, we will learn to deal. We will keep living. We will grieve and grow and miss you forever, but we will live.”

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

Rachel fucking Berry. That damn girl represents every single bully that ever made my life a living hell and I really, really wish I could just despise her but she is so goddamn useful that she somehow keeps sneaking her way into almost everything I write, and not even as a villain... -.-

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

The answer is under the cut 'cause I get semi graphic and long winded in the second part because I don't do taboo subjects. You enter at your own risk lol

The irony (yes, I know this is not the definition of that word. Blame Alanis Morissette.) of you asking me this after we spent way too long google streetviewing the highway between Scarsdale and Bushwick yesterday, just to see what the toll gate looked like, is not lost on me. Especially not considering I then went off and followed that entire route past the plethora of graveyards into Bushwick proper and tried in vain to find any building that looked like it could hold the Loft, while you were off actually being a 'sponsible adult xD

But for a serious answer, I research everything I can (even if it is really not necessary), but the most revelatory one was butt sex. As a cis woman who has no practical experience with gay butt sex, I went off into the deep end, and to my great surprise I discovered that the whole concept of 'stretching' as portrayed in some fiction is actually quite unnecessary. Imagine you are massively constipated and you are passing a truly ginormous log. Would you stretch out your anal muscles first? No! The way these muscles are designed means that they can relax and contract as and when necessary (i.e. pooping), which means that the whole 'stretching' is really quite obsolete. A thing that can be necessary, especially when dealing with a partner with limited anal experience, is to get them comfortable and relaxed which in turn means the muscles will give way easier. Despite the pleasure points located in the rectum and anal passage, it is not actually designed for things to be shoved up there, so it is completely normal to need a period of adjustment, just like with any other muscle group that is having to perform in a way they are not used to. So what actually happens when the receiving partner gets 'stretched' is that the muscles are being given an intrusion to respond to, and they will tighten when tense, but loosen when relax. An experienced bottoming partner's muscles will give way much easier because the body has learned it to be a pleasant experience, but someone who is relatively new to anal sex (or someone who is just really tense) would need to learn to relax around the intrusion. And the way to do that is not by scissoring your fingers to force the muscles apart (nevermind the strength you'd need in your fingers for that), but by making sure your partner is relaxed and comfortable. Just sticking a finger in there and gently moving it back and forth will do just fine. Also, you don't need your whole hand up there to reach the prostate, honestly. Note: You're usually better off building up to full penetration when inexperienced, especially when your partner has a massive schlong like so many fics write either Kurt or Blaine, or both, as having. It is never supposed to hurt! Note 2: I feel this might be a bit redundant too, but LUBE IS OUR FRIEND! And more importantly: SPIT IS NOT GOOD LUBE! Just to cover my own ass here, I don't actually claim to be an expert on this. Yes, there are always exceptions, there is no one size fits all, yadda yadda yadda :P

tl;dr... Butt sex, my friends. Butt sex. Oh, and also anal/penile sex toys and gay male sex positions, for funsies.

[lookatlavender]

ohhhhhhhh. fuck. that last reply to my ask REALLY got me going. next time i fuck myself i’m going to be thinking about you begging to be denied.

the thing is i’d definitely not go right back to denying you completely. i love watching you struggle not to come, baby. i’d make you come until it’s painful, with the biggest plug in your ass that you trained yourself to take like such a very good boy. then i’d take the plug out - your ass isn’t as tight as it used to be, baby, you’ve done too good of a job training yourself because you just kept wanting bigger and bigger toys. so we have to remedy that, don’t we? we need to deny your ass for a bit. i’ll just have to play with your pretty little boycunt instead 💝

and the thing is, as much as i love fucking your mouth, i fucking love the noises you make when i touch you. so i’d fuck you and make you come while you beg not, mocking you gently for knowing how much harder it’ll be for you to go back to denial after that. and then when i tell you you’re not allowed to come anymore i’d tie you down and pleasure you, however i know you’d like best - maybe sucking on your tdick while i fuck you with a toy. punishing you for every time i have to ruin you by slapping your sensitive cunt hard. or maybe making you hurt yourself for me some other way. putting more and more clamps on your nipples.

maybe i’d even let my friends use you, if you like to be shared. tell them you’re not allowed to come but you’re such a good boy they can take you however they like and you’ll hold the edge.

after they’ve all used you i’d reward you with a ruin. and then i’d close your pussy back up, maybe after edging you a couple times and making you beg to please, please let you come one last time. but i’d say no. you’ve received enough pleasure for now, love. you’re going back to throat fucking only, and after that i’ll give you your plugs back to edge on, maybe even ruin on if you’re very, very good.

beg nicely for me. make sure you thank me for using you when i lock you back up. i need to know this is what you want, okay? you want to be locked up like a good slut. 💫

🙈😵‍💫 same this whole ask is so hot, i only have one edge left for the day and you’re about to make me use it 🙈🙈 especially that you’re gonna fuck yourself thinking about me begging, just makes me want to beg really really well for you

i’m imagining you starting by fucking me with my biggest plug, popping the thickest part in and out of my hole over and over until it’s stretching me to my limit. you pull the toy out and it leaves me gaped open, my whole totally loose and wrecked and dripping with lube. i’m so loose you can just slip your fist into me like it’s nothing, just totally destroyed for you 😵‍💫 and then, when i think you’re gonna put it back into me, you don’t. you set it down right where i can see it, and let me feel empty for the first time in months

as i whine you start talking about how wrecked i am, how there’s no use for my ass if it’s so loose you can’t even use it to get off. so it has to be denied for now, until it’s nice and tight and ready to be retrained. i’m so on edge at this point but you haven’t let me cum

it would be so good if when you’re ruining me, you lay everything out and tell me exactly what to do. tie me down, and while you do tease my body and tell me that you’re going to force me to ruin over and over again, even though my boycunt is already sore from you pounding it. you’re going to make me ruin until i cry, and every single time i have to signal to you that i’m close by begging you not to cum as pretty as i possibly can. then do it over and over until i can’t even form sentences, forcing me to beg not to cum until i’m babbling nonsense, to please stop so i can edge for you, and then slapping my cunt over and over as the waves of each ruin wash through me.

i would love for your friends to use me, i would even let you do all of this in front of them so they get to see how desperate i am to be a good toy for you, even when it’s breaking my mind and you’re forcing my body to betray me over and over. and then it’s their turn, except this time i’m actually not allowed to cum, or i’ll be punished for real. not just some cute little slaps on my boycunt, which we both know i crave anyway

afterwards i’d want you to edge me until i was really needy, until i wasn’t just begging to cum because i thought you would think it sounds pretty, but because i really think that i need that orgasm. i’ll tell you how i had forgotten how good they felt, and i didn’t even know what i was missing. you’re still the only one in the world that i want to make feel good, but please please please just this one last time can i have an orgasm for me? i’ll never ask again, i swear. just this once i need it so bad, you’ve been using me and torturing me all day in the perfect ways, you always know exactly what i need, and now you have me desperate to cum in a way i haven’t been since you first denied me and i feel like if you don’t my brain is just going to explode and melt out through my ears. i’d tell you how my whole body is on fire with how much i need it, how much i need to feel a full orgasm from your fingers and tongue, just this one time and i swear i’ll be good and never ask to even ruin again, i just need it this one time please please i’ll do anything you ask after, you can treat me however you want just please

and then you pull back from touching me completely, chuckle softly and say no. my whole body would be a live wire, even a brush against my nipple or being groped hard would probably send me over the edge. but then, don’t make be thank you for locking me up. tell me that since my begging was so pretty, you want to hear more of it.

before you’ll do the honor of locking up my pussy again, force me to tell you how much i need to be locked. make me tell you how much i need you to control me, and how, actually, i really don’t want to cum one last time. i don’t want to cum ever again, unless it’s to make you feel pleasure. i want you to tie my pussy up with pretty ribbons and keep my clit numb, and i want you to deny my cunt completely. i need you to force me to service you with my mouth and throat, because more than anything i want you to force me to be a good boy for you. more than anything i want to be denied by you.

and then when you do make me thank you by making you cum in my mouth. talk me through how amazing my mouth feels, and how you know i’m so empty and numb right now and that just gets you off even more. tell me i’m such a good denial slut for begging not to cum. and once you orgasm lean down, right in my face, and so sweetly kiss me on the nose and inform me that the only orgasms i’ll ever get again will be yours 🥺

[bravewolfvesperia]

Yuri could understand that. Sometimes he had no idea how Jiri managed to keep all of this contained. Heck, the kids were probably extra fussy today because she was out. In perspective though, she probably was the way she was with all the kids because she had to be to keep things together. Even when they were kids, they were a handful by any stretch of the imagination.

As much as Yuri didn't want to put his end of the responsibility onto Flynn, he really was about at his wits end. "Yeah, I... might need the help. At least I might have learned my limits from this." He laughed tiredly, but in a way, it was true. For as much energy as he had, these kids could wipe him out completely if they wanted to.

Thankfully right now they were all content and happy, and the sounds of them playing their game made it clear enough. When it came to playtime, they were generally well behaved even as a group. It was especially nice to see given how many of them differed greatly in age. There were five year olds in the mix with ten year olds, but all things considered, the ten year olds were pretty patient with the younger children.

Even then though, he was pretty sure once he slowed down that he wouldn't be starting up again. He wanted at least some of the night to himself. Yet, he found himself eying the lemonade tray, deciding maybe they should split getting the cups over to the kids. After the day they had, the last thing they needed was Flynn to trip even the tiniest bit on his way to the room.

"Well... I'll help you with bringing the tray over. We can split it onto two trays to make it easier to bring over and less heavy. After that I'll... try to stop my body from autopilot working." He had hardly finished the sentence before he was pulling out another tray, switching some of the cups onto it. Once he lifted it a first time as a test run, he decided it was good enough. "Come on. Before those sharks get too thirsty."

They weren't in there long; just long enough to pass the drinks around to everyone. Some of the older kids got up and helped, getting a quick but soft thanks from Yuri. They were all pretty used to everyone around here helping each other, but it meant a lot more when some of the older kids could see how tired Jiri and the teens sometimes were and offered their help.

Tomorrow was... helping the kids learn to read and write more. All the other teens knew they had to be there for that at least, so if they ran off like they did tonight, they'd definitely be scolded later by Jiri... ...Heck, that was probably why they ran off tonight. They knew they'd have to work hard tomorrow. Jiri wasn't the only one capable of giving looks and Yuri was pretty sure his brothers would understand exactly what it meant when they saw it on his face.

Once he and Flynn were done with the second half of situating the kids, they retreated back into the kitchen so Flynn could clean the remainder of it. As assured, Yuri sank into a chair at the table instead. His feet would probably start feeling a bit sore soon... He was starting to wonder if maybe he should unload at least half of tomorrow's duties onto the other teens. If his thoughts were spoken right now, they'd be coming out in tired, vengeful mumbles.

About a minute was dedicated to just silence from him, arm outstretched on the table with his chin resting on his other arm as Flynn went about the kitchen, but his mind started to wander before he eventually spoke up again. "Hey... do you think it's an emergency or something? She's been gone for a pretty long time... Usually at least one of the adults would've checked on us by now if they knew the old lady was gonna be out this long."

It took a bit of silent bargaining for Flynn to finally get Cass to release him and settle down for his nap. For a while, it seemed like the poor child was seconds away from waking up and bursting into tears the second Flynn placed him down into bed but thankfully a well adjusted blanket and a random teddy bear that Flynn had spotted was enough to convince Cass that maybe sleep was worth it after all. Watching as the small toddler clung to the teddy bear, Flynn left with a warm smile on his face. 

The smile… left for a moment when one of the younger boys came in searching for his bear and Flynn was horrified that this was only going to end in one way: Disaster. Thankfully, the Gods decided to be kind for once and decided to show him mercy because after one quick lesson in “Sharing is Caring” the little boy decided to let Cass hold onto it while he slept. And that, Flynn thought as he gently ushered the child back into the main room, could be considered his big victory of the day.

As Flynn headed towards the kitchen, he did a quick head count of the children in the main room. Mostly to make sure he got enough cups out for the lemonade and also to make sure all of the kids were accounted for. Thankfully there were no missing children to be reported. Flynn muttered a near silent prayer of thanks before quietly making his way back into the kitchen.

Upon entering, he was met with the sight of a near exhausted Yuri beginning his task of cleaning the kitchen. When the man greeted him with the slight turn of his head, Flynn nodded with a hum. “Yeah, I had to borrow someone’s teddy bear but we eventually came to an agreement.” He laughed quietly as he began to search for the cups to pour the lemonade into. 

Thankfully, Yuri and Flynn had made the lemonade earlier so they didn’t have to worry about making more anytime soon. It was easy enough. Flynn had been put in charge of squeezing the lemons while Yuri measured the sugar and water and after a taste test between the two, they happily decided that it was good enough for the kids while also making sure not to waste all of their remaining sugar on the drink. As he poured the drink into several cups for the children and placed the pitcher aside, he turned and took a moment to really examine Yuri from where he stood.

It was clear that Yuri was hitting the end of his rope for the day and he definitely could understand why. Yuri had been the one who had to run back and forth after the older kids all day while Flynn mostly had to stay behind with the smaller ones and make sure their needs were met. They both had their fair share of work but it seemed like Yuri’s was more demanding at times.  And now he was in here trying to clean the kitchen? Flynn frowned and finished laying the glasses out before quietly moving over to Yuri’s side. Reaching out, he starts to tug at the corner of the rag that Yuri was using to wipe down the counter. “Hey, if you want me to take care of cleaning the kitchen, I don’t mind.” 

He could easily get the lemonade distributed amongst the children and finish cleaning the kitchen in record time while Yuri took a break. He didn’t want Yuri to crash the second that Jiri showed up. It's happened before it would definitely happen again if Flynn allowed it. But a selfish part of him wanted to hang out with Yuri at least for a little bit after the kids were taken care of for the night. And he couldn't do that when Yuri was passed out in bed. “You’ve been all over the place today. Honestly, I’m a little tired from just watching you.” Ah– Wait, maybe that was a poor choice of words. That insinuated that he had done nothing but stare at Yuri today. Moving on. As he tried not to overthink too heavily on his choice of words, he instead offered the other a tiny smile as if to try and silently coax the other into taking a much needed break.