#Soft Plastic Baits

[samatisbaits]

Master Your Fishing Game with These Soft Plastic Baits

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[icewindandboringhorror]

a littol rats 

[thebizzbaits]

Soft Plastic Bait - Catch More Fish with Bizz Baits

Experience the ultimate in fishing with Bizz Baits' soft plastic bait. Designed for optimal attraction, our baits help you reel in more fish effortlessly.

[hunglure]

Drop Shot Finesse Fishing: A Beginner's Guide

Fishing can be a relaxing and rewarding hobby, but it can also be a bit overwhelming for beginners. One effective and beginner-friendly technique is drop-shot finesse fishing. This method is particularly useful for catching finicky fish like bass, panfish, and other species. Before shopping for drop shot finesse fishing lures look at the basics of the technique, from the equipment you need to the step-by-step process of using this technique.

1. Equipment and Tackle:

Before you hit the water, you'll need the right equipment and tackle for drop shot finesse fishing. Here's what you'll need:

Fishing Rod: A light to medium spinning rod (6-7 feet) is ideal. This will allow you to make precise casts and work your bait effectively.

Reel: Pair your rod with a spinning reel that matches its power. This ensures a balanced setup, making it easier to control your line.

Fishing Line: Use a 6-10-pound test monofilament or fluorocarbon line. Lighter line allows for better sensitivity and control.

Drop Shot Weight: A drop shot weight or sinker is the key to this technique. It's usually a cylindrical weight that attaches below your hook.

Hooks: Small, fine-wire hooks (size 1 to 4) are great for drop shot fishing. They keep the presentation natural.

Drop Shot finesse fishing lures: This is where the finesse part comes in. Choose soft plastic lures like worms, minnows, or creature baits. The color and size should match the local forage and water conditions.

2. Rigging the Drop Shot:

Once you have your gear ready, it's time to rig up your drop shot setup. Here's how:

Tie a Palomar Knot: Attach your hook to the line using a Palomar knot. Leave a tag end of about 8-12 inches for the drop shot weight.

Attach the Weight: Slide the tag end through the eye of the drop shot weight, then pull it tight. This will secure the weight below the hook.

Hook the Soft Plastic: Thread the hook through the head of the soft plastic bait and let it hang naturally. This creates a lifelike presentation.

3. Casting and Presentation:

Now that your drop shot rig is set up, it's time to get it in the water. Here's how to cast and present your bait:

Choose a Spot: Look for underwater structures, rocks, or vegetation where fish might be hiding.

Cast Gently: Make a gentle cast to your chosen spot. The goal is to drop the bait vertically rather than making a long-distance cast.

Allow It to Sink: Let the bait sink to the desired depth. You can use your reel to manage the depth by reeling in or letting out line.

Work the Bait: Use gentle rod movements to give your bait a subtle, natural action. Small twitches and lifts are often all you need to entice a strike.

4. Detecting Strikes and Setting the Hook:

Detecting strikes while drop shot finesse fishing can be subtle, so pay close attention to your line and rod. Here's how to do it:

Watch your line closely. If you notice it twitch, jump, or move to the side, it might be a fish showing interest.

Feel for any unusual resistance or a "mushy" sensation when you're working the bait. A fish might have picked it up.

When you think a fish is biting, set the hook with a quick upward motion of your rod. Keep the line tight and maintain pressure on the fish.

Drop-shot finesse fishing is a technique that requires patience and practice. You may not catch fish every time, but with experience, you'll improve your skills and start reeling in more catches.

[bizzbaits01]

Pro Anglers Spill the Beans The Best Bait for Bass Fishing - Bizz Baits

Join us in the thrilling world of bass fishing as we unveil the well-guarded secret of professional anglers. In 'Pro Anglers Spill the Beans: The Best Bait for Bass Fishing we shed light on the game-changing Bizz Baits a true favorite among the fishing elite

[bizzbaits]

Top best worms for bass- Bizz Baits

Unbeatable Bass Attractors Discover the best worms for bass fishing. Our premium selection ensures successful and thrilling fishing experiences. Hook your trophy bass with "Bizz Baits".

visit us:-

[emacrow]

Damian and the Dumpster baby.

Damian was doing patrols, with a bit of a minor rescuing and feeding the strays animals until he heard a noise from a dumpster.

Tonight was going to be a storm coming, and he rather check up on the strays, feed them, fixing any of the secure hiding places he put out for them for rain occasionally, and try to smuggle 1 or 6 into the barn again without Father knowing. Alfred can keep a secret sometimes.

Jumping on the edge of the dumpster to see a plastic bag tied up on the pile of trash with something squirming inside, alive obviously. Oh if this another group of puppies, he going to find the culprit himself and break their kneecaps and arms this time.

Easily untying the plastic bag and opening to reveal.. a little baby.

Not a kitten or a puppy, a living breathing human baby, cut and tied umbilical and a pale with a unique birth mark in a shape of a lichtenberg from his tiny hand fading to his chest.

This..

This was out of Damian's comfort line.

He had dealt with saving animals, people, children, hell even toddlers. He never dealt with a baby before much less a newborn.

He could panic later as he hear the sounds of a storm brewing. Carefully picking up the baby by the back of the head and and by the body, using his cape to as a blanket to cover the obvious nudity of the baby. Climbing onto his Red Robin theme Doom Buggy.

Taking care of a baby is no different then taking care of a baby animal, right?

.....

.....

.....

.....

He got caught after 5 month and a half by Alfred during feeding Danyal time, while scolded him about hiding the baby instead of coming to him.

He had a good reason to though, last time he told Alfred about the last newest addition, Bruce sended the Jafar the Ligor to a sanctuary. He still felt betrayed by that.(even though now Jafar is happily spending his days with the other mixed big cat breed but still)

He done a good enough job taking care of Danyal, even though he had to secretly look up baby stuff, medicine, clothes, a soft bedded cot and diapers.(the smell was much less worse then the sewer) he considered himself a great care-taker.(even though in the back of his mind, he feared that he might had unlocked that genetic adopt-bat bait traits that Dick warned him about)

Damian had gotten.. a bit attached, considering the idea of putting danyal in orphanage or a foster care wasn't ideal afterall the corrupted ones that Father and him had broken through over the years left a bad gut feeling if he had actually gone through with his plan. Danyal was one of his babies, only not covered in fur, scales, or a shell.

And he didn't do everything all on his own, Cass was the only who figured it out, kept it a secret and help out.. then steph found out... and Jason, Tim and Duke unfortunately found out after Cass and steph snuck danyal in the manor for a nice bath.

Only reason Dick didn't found out because everyone know he can't keep a secret away from Bruce's ear for long after found out Jason's new girlfriend was the new therapist in Gotham, and telling Bruce would feed his adopt-holic again and he end up having baby fever. (Tim didn't tell him what that word meant but he did look it up in a baby care guide book for new parents. And EW)

They were going to wait it out til Danyal was at least toddler age before sneaking him in the manor to gatekeep gaslight girlboss Father into thinking he already adopted him. (Steph's words, not his)

New post <-

[adoreddestiny]

[Did you kiss me just to shut me up]

Zayne please!🫶🏽

ೃ⁀➷ POP UP EVENT !! — aurora’s writing corner

"did you kiss me just to shut me up?" — zayne x gn!reader

“what did i tell you about eating too much sugar?” zayne asked.

you froze, dropping the macaron onto the plastic packaging and backing up slowly. it made a soft thud against the tissue paper and, luckily, didn’t crack. though you didn’t have too much time to ruminate on it as zayne quickly closed in on you.

“but zayne…” you mumbled, looking up at him with your best impression of a wounded puppy.

he didn’t take the bait.

“there’s nothing wrong with eating sugar to a minimal degree but haven’t you had enough today?” he asked, resting his hands on his hips, “this is the seventh macaron you’ve had today alone. the box is nearly empty.”

you stare sheepishly at the half-empty box you’d been gifted by a friend recently. perhaps zayne was right. perhaps it would be safer and likely healthier if you just quit for the day. a hardy reset for tomorrow was needed.

but did he have to chatter on about the degrading effects sugar had on your health like the ingredient list on the side of a cereal box?

“are you listeni—“

you silenced him with a slight tug on his tie. your finger enveloping the fabric before crashing your lips against his in a sugary kiss. for a brief moment you swore you could taste a hint of pistachio on his lips.

his eyes widened a fraction before he kissed you back fervently. his large, calloused hand moving to rest on the small of your back.

when you can kiss him no longer (which is frankly impossible) he creases his eyebrows at you.

“did you just kiss me to silence me?” he murmurs, hand gliding up your spine.

“maybe, but do you care to explain why you taste like a pistachio macaron?”

zayne kisses you again.

[peppertoastuniverse]

the heat of summer – geto suguru

contents: geto suguru x gn!reader, switching povs, just 2 idiots in love, lots of fluff, suggestive gojo, soft sugu, suguru being the biggest doting mother hen who just wants to love you and make sure you're ok summary: suguru geto wonders if it’s the summer heat that’s the cause of his flushed face and erratically beating heart or if it’s because of you. wc: 2.8k

“stop.” he warns, voice low, tugging you to him easily. “let me,” geto whispers.

stretching out his broad frame on his bed, geto stares up at the ceiling humming casually. it was his favourite time of day. he enjoys watching the darkness of the evening overpower the golden edges of the disappearing sun, the intense heat from the day diluting into a pleasant warmth. a pleasant breeze dances through his opened window, rustling the pages of his carefully abandoned book on his bed. the book that you bought him last week. you showed up at his door during this time, slightly out of breath with excited eyes contrasting your dishevelled uniform. you must have just came back from mission with gojo. pressing a hardcover book into his palms before beaming “suguru! I brought this back for you from Kurashiki! i.. i thought you’d like it.” you were so sweet. you thought of him.

he smiles at the memory. there it was again – a temporary trespasser within his chest, stomping on all reason in his brain. a foreign warmth bathes his chest in a tenderness that he couldn't understand. his brow furrow slightly at this strange feeling. he exhaled slowly as to appease his erratically beating heart, weaving his now sweaty palms through his loose dark hair to distract himself.

huh. must be the heat. or.. was it because you were- smack. a cool package striking geto’s contemplative face, effectively knocks him out of is reverie. a welcome distraction in the form of a.. popsicle?

narrowed violet eyes trail up to his best friend's confident stance, large hands splayed across the open door, pale face immensely pleased with himself. “dude, what the fuck?” a tinge of annoyance colouring geto’s words, satoru was always so careless. raising an eyebrow, the beginnings of a cheeky grin decorating gojo’s proud face, “what? did I get the wrong flavour, baby? wanna taste mine then?” quickly crossing the threshold into geto’s tidy room, waving his own purple popsicle his best friend’s face, dark glasses sliding down ever so slightly to reveal blue eyes full of mischief. gojo was practically vibrating from boredom. "..or do you wanna taste something el-" gojo cackles, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "enough." suguru spits with an amused scoff, as gojo’s snickering lingered in the summer air. accompanied a quiet mutter of thanks, geto carefully opens the packaging of the shockingly blue popsicle. placing the plastic wrapper on his bedside table while gracefully moving his body into a seated position. he sighs softly, enjoying the coolness of the treat and the sweet flavour dancing on his tongue. “- ehhh? that's it? you usually try and beat my ass after something like that. tired again, suguru?” gojo's boisterous voice was too loud and lively to match the hot, sluggish summers of Tokyo, but geto noticed the slight tinge of worry laced in it. stepping quickly to take a seat by geto’s side, gojo intentionally jostles the bed, playfully bumping geto's knee with his own in the process. frowning geto easily takes the bait and kicks him back with a disproportionate amount of ferocity, earning a wide grin from the white haired boy. “satoru, if you want to fight go bother someone else.” "oh believe me –  i tried. nanami and haibara were sent on that mission this morning, ‘member? and shoko already threw me out of her room." gojo whines rubbing the back of his neck, licking his dripping popsicle hastily. bright eyes scanning geto’s room until he noticed the book. the book that you dragged gojo all around Kurashiki to 4 different bookstores to get. turning his head he eyes his best friend’s suspicious face in glee. “don’t tell me you’re still pouting, suguru? ….you’re still worried about them?” gojo asked poorly attempting to hide his amusement. oh. geto wonders why his heart starts beating rapidly at the mere mention of you, or why all of a sudden the intense summer sun was back in his room. "nah, it's just the heat – it must be getting to me." geto side steps, easily masking his slight frown. biting the last bit of his popsicle, voice slightly muffled as it melts in his mouth. “they just texted me, y'know. they're fiiiiiine. they'll be back in a few hours!” gojo teasing tone stifled as he chews on his purple stained popsicle stick.

geto unconsciously lets out a sigh of relief. you were okay. he was glad that you were okay – of course you were. you could hold your own during missions, you were reliable – albeit a little too reckless for his liking sometimes, and you had a tendency to be self-sacrificing when it wasn't needed but - wait.

gojo and you… texted? since when? gojo's face whips to his, the beginning of a shit eating grin threatens to spill from his lips “.. and they asked about you too.” geto's heart lurches, fighting a pleased smile. “yeah well, they ask about everyone." an easy excuse.

it's definitely not the summer heat that made his face flush.

you sighed audibly - japanese summers were really a punishment. you really couldn’t take the heat - it was too intense, too brash – it overwhelmed you until you were breathless. as you felt your uniform begin to stick uncomfortably to your skin you huffed. you couldn't wait for autumn. strained muscles, a few minor cuts on your legs and a stinging left arm were the souvenirs of your first solo mission after your recent promotion to grade 1 – thankfully this one didn’t go too badly. stretching lightly you groaned when you heard the faint pop of your aching joints. at least you had the cicadas and the faint moonlight to keep you company as you made the trek back to jujutsu tech.

a refreshing breeze danced through your hair and you hummed in pleasure, appreciatedly. gingerly you raise your arms, gathering your messy hair into a ponytail out of your face, exposing your sweaty neck. reaching to your wrist, grabbing the black hair tie that he gave you last week. you remembered his observant eyes recognizing your irritation at your unruly hair getting in your face during training. calling your name, you found yourself situated in between his long legs, his fingers, lightly weaving through your hair, slightly tugging it, coaxing your locks into a ponytail, "there, we go…" he'd mutter tying it off easily and patting your head for good measure. he thought about you.

you smiled at the memory. there it was again – a temporary trespasser that would somehow make a home within your chest. arriving so elusively, spreading to the flushed plains of your cheeks decorating your face with an air of bewilderment. you inhaled sharply, noticing the vibrations of your unevenly beating heart. you grumbled involuntarily playing with your hair, twirling it around your pointer finger.

ugh. must be the heat. passing the torii gates, you could almost feel your soft bed and plush pillows. You groaned prematurely imagining your dorm room fan, blowing on your skin. maybe you could watch a movie to wind down or take a cold bath. or maybe...he would be up and you could drop by to–

a rustle interrupted your thoughts.

turning briskly, your cautious face painted in surprise when you saw his emerging figure in the darkness.

geto.

it seems as if he wasn’t expecting to see anyone either. eyebrows quirked, sleek black hair let loose around his broad back. instantly geto's posture straightens out in the dim moonlight as your eyes meet his. was he.. nervous to see you? you shake the silly thought from your wandering mind. probably not, why would he be nervous to see you? “suguru!” you smile tiredly with a wave. "whatcha doing here?" approaching him with a slight bounce in your step despite the protest of your muscles.

"just out for a walk." he answers smile matching yours. "mission go okay?"

if you weren't as equally observant as geto, you wouldn't have noticed him tucking his fidgeting hands into his loose pants or his amethyst eyes give you a quick once over, slight crease on his brow. "it wasn't anything i couldn't handle.. but i'm all gross and tired." you answer, trying to appease his worry, ponytail swishing behind your back.

“you’re bleeding…” geto’s long strides meet your smaller figure, quickly approaching you with renewed intent. You could feel the heat of his meticulous stare on your left arm, your own eyes glancing down surveying the damage. "huh? oh. that.. it's fine, just a scratch –" geto can't help but feel exasperated by you sometimes, you're too kind almost to the point of being naive. you’re just so thoughtful, always putting other people first – trying to reassure him while you're actively hurt and bleeding. he doesn't like that. you needed to take better care of yourself, realise that you’re important too.. you’re important to him.

your eyes widen slightly when you feel his long fingers gently encircle your right wrist, effectively guiding you to sit at the benches behind you. pulling out a handkerchief out of his pocket he glances apologetically at your face briefly before pressing it to your wound to ease the bleeding. you flinch slightly in response. "suguru – really! i'm fine, it's nothing–" nose scrunching up in protest. he interrupts you with a rather sassy deadpan glare catching you off guard. if you weren’t so exasperated with his coddling you would’ve laughed. but it’s just like suguru to dote on you. picking your battles, you roll your eyes, gently slapping his knee without any real vigour. “suguruuu,” you whine dramatically. “stop.” he warns voice low, tugging you to him easily. “let me,” geto whispers. you’re about to protest again but you don’t expect his serious expression as he meets your pouting face.  you do what he asks and if he keeps looking at you like that you’ll do whatever he wants. so you sigh impatiently, admitting defeat with a grumble. with him you always folded so easily. you watch him as he works, the gentle growing glow of the moon accentuating his soft features. you notice the slight furrow in his brow as he cautiously lifts the handkerchief to peek at the wound accessing it’s severity. his sharp jaw unconsciously tensing thoughtfully, high cheekbones accentuating his sleek eyes, the curtain of black hair billowing down the nape of his long neck occasionally catching the warm breeze. you never realised how handsome he was. your fingers couldn’t resist the temptation as they brush a strand of his hair away from his face, tucking the silky threads behind his ear affectionately. geto slightly stills with the intimate action before melting to you fleeting touch. fingers trembling, you hesitantly drop your fingers, curling your hand into your lap. contact severing far too soon. geto and you sit in a comfortable but thoughtful silence as he fusses over you. with him it felt like you didn’t need to fill in the silences, you could just exist in the same space and find comfort knowing that he was beside you. his strength and raw power were always the first thing people saw but to you it was his quiet kindness. what you appreciated about him was his gentle nature, his presence was comforting and reassuring like the retreating sunlight on your skin at twilight. under his gaze, you’ve never felt so cared for.

"do we have to cut it off? am i dying? ooh dang, i was really looking forward to listening to satoru complain all day about the heat tomorrow," you quipped sarcastically, breaking the silence. "seriously? you complain just as much about the heat maybe even more–" his large hands stilling, his right resting lightly on your thigh, skin beneath his palms burning. "is that any way to talk to your patient, sugu?" you interrupt him casting a cheeky smile, as geto rolls his eyes. "hmm, it should be okay for now. but you should really be more careful next time. at least visit shoko once in a while – you're not invincible. " he chastises you. "pffff, and miss out on quality sugu time? no way!" brightly exclaiming, stretching out your legs. he chuckles, the sound adding to the vibrations of your unsteady heart. if he laughed again you swore you might have a heart attack. he looked so relaxed like this – so free. you felt that geto was one to hold his own emotions so close to his chest that they threatened to consume him from the inside. after all, he was so busy taking care of everyone else, who would take care of him? you wanted to carry his fraying thoughts, to keep the the storm above his shoulders at bay, to help him bear the weight of the curse of being human. black hair falling as he shakes his head, "you're ridiculous, you know that?” he pulls the handkerchief away to check on the wound one last time before tying the makeshift bandage loosely, satisfied. you whisper your thanks as his warm hands withdraw. you crave the missing contact immediately.

resting his hands on his knees, he looks at you in amusement before his quickly flicker to ground at your feet.

“you know that you can get quality sugu time anytime you want, right?” he says with curious sincerity.

you savour his rare bashful expression. this was a version of geto you rarely saw and you couldn’t help but coo internally. he was always so confident and sure but seeing him like this felt like you got to see the real version of him, a proposal to form a new, deeper bond of trust. “yeah, but we’re both being shipped out all the time now. I never get to see you anymore…” you voice trails off, growing softer with unexpected vulnerability. your shy eyes squint up to dark sky, choosing to be swallowed by the sky instead of the abyss of his eyes. absentmindedly you ramble, words spilling almost carelessly, "it would've been way more fun if you were there with me today." "oh, just me, eh? did you miss me that much?" lightly bumping his knee to yours. you can hear the slightly cocky smile on his face – all shyness gone – voice bright, pleased with your admission. "pfff uhh – i…. okay. i meant if everyone was together!" you added, hastily, pursing your lips realising he didn’t see through your poorly veiled bluff. "hmm… i dunno, it sounded better when it was just me," he slightly pouts, his palm cradling his cheek as he peers down at you. you bump his broad shoulder with yours, his sweet smile temporarily hypnotizing you, making you forget your injury. you stiffen with a quiet wince, hoping he didn’t hear. but nothing gets past geto, especially you. swiftly, he winds a strong arm around your lower back stilling you. geto shifts to check on your wound, you feel the rumble in his chest as he tuts. his concerned eyes flash to yours.

“hey. hey, easy there. can't have you bleeding out on me again." you fidgeted slightly looking anywhere but his face for you knew that if your eyes met that you’d simply combust. geto observantly notices your stillness and soothes you warmly, intuitively rubbing your back moving impossibly closer to your feverish body. you feel like you might die like this.

“i thought about you... when you were gone," voice soft, barely there as if he was letting you in on a secret and he was unsure if he himself wanted to admit it yet.

p­­­lunging into the abyss you looked into his twinkling eyes, perhaps the stars were hiding in his eyes tonight. “...you weren’t worrying about me, were you?”

"i know that you're capable, but sometimes i cant help it..." sighing slightly, the tips of his ears flushing at the confession.

you allowed your head to find his firm shoulder, curling into his warmth, recognizing his vulnerability. being mindful of your injury, geto rests his head on top yours with a contented hum. Your eyes softening, “don't worry sugu, i'll always come back..."

i'll always come back to you, your heart quietly admits, surprising even yourself as you further bury yourself in geto. but it's almost too soon, too overwhelming to voice it out loud. you feel his gentle caress tighten around you minusculely, interrupting your spiralling thoughts, comforting you even when you didn’t even know you needed it. the combination of the weight of his head and his comforting scent further grounding you reassuringly. your body relaxing, melting into each other.

" .. i missed you, too." he says softly, his eyes carrying a confession of something more. you feel his shy grin, before glancing back at his flushed face, finding a mutual expression reflected in his eyes.

you're not sure if it's the summer heat or this sudden close proximity that makes you feel dizzy. maybe it was the gentleness in his tender touch stroking the embers of something new in your heart.

for now you're content with holding onto him just a little longer.

a/n: u best believe i made geto and and gojo have matching popsicles lol because that’s canon

[semischarmed]

Hunter

In all aspects but his hobby, Hunter was an all around normal guy. Your interactions with the man in Apartment 1B are few and far between, but you did know a few things. You knew he used to play college football. You knew he liked to go the gym every night- 6pm on the dot. You knew he came from a small rural town in the Midwest. But above all, you knew you wanted his delectable flesh all to yourself. 

Hunter liked to go out on weekends. Usually fishing. He seemed to also have a penchant for catching and releasing snakes. Why anyone would do such a thing felt like such a foreign concept to you, but it did spark a particularly devious idea.

You feign interest, listening to Hunter drone on and on about his latest trip. You did like the way his eyes beamed whenever he talked about his interests, but as far as you were concerned, the biggest catch of all was Hunter himself.

Now came the time to strike. “Damn, that actually sounds really fun... No one ever taught me to fish.” That seemed to have shocked him to his core. You shrug. “No one ever took me”. Hunter was eating it up.

“We should go fishing! Next week. I have some extra gear with me, maybe you could get some bait?” He exclaimed in boyish excitement. It was almost cute- and to be honest it turned you on a little, knowing the real purpose of the trip.

The trap was set.

- - - - - 

You eye the bucket of live bait in front of you. A mass of worms wriggling in a plastic container. Right below was a series of strange symbols in a circle of red ink. You stare at the large cut on your hand, before giving it a squeeze over the worms. To your right is a nondescript black book, you read its words as you continue to squeeze, watching the bait seize on contact and appear to die. You hastily bandage your hand. 

You’re not too concerned about any infections, since you knew this would be a one-way trip for the both of you. You pull up a photo of Hunter as you start to chant the next paragraph of words, pumping your dick with your non-injured hand. Because it’s a photo of Hunter, and because you can still distinctly remember his decadent musk from the night before, it doesn’t take long.

You let out an exasperated sigh as your seed begins to coat the bait. It doesn’t take long before the worms begin to wriggle again, now slick with cum and imbued with a piece of you. You moan as you feel each animal as an extension of yourself. You ball your hand into a fist and the worms respond in kind. Perfect. 

- - - - -

You can’t control your sheer horniness. The lake is quiet, aside from the soft sounds of wildlife and, as far as you can tell, it was just you and Hunter for miles. The sun beats down, drawing scents out of Hunter that felt downright divine.

“Told you I knew a spot,” Hunter beams, obviously proud of his secret fishing spot.

He eyes the live bait, pondering on it for a second. You can practically see the gears in his head try to reconcile why a seemingly innocuous pile of worms felt so inherently wrong and otherworldly. He shakes the feeling as you both enter the boat, gear in hand.

The boat sways a bit as you two drift further and further from shore. Your original plan was to draw it out, make it look less intentional, but every moment outside of Hunter felt like a waste.

“Wow, I never realized how rocky these boats w- AAahhh” you scream, as you “accidentally” spill the bait all over Hunter. “Sorry!” It takes all your willpower to not get hard at the sight of Hunter unknowingly covered in pieces of yourself, soaked in your cum.

Ever the cool guy, Hunter laughs off your faked-clumsiness. Though obviously a bit disturbed. “It’s alright, can’t go fishing and not expect to get a little dirt- OOoohhh Ah!” Hunter’s back arches as he feels a cum-soaked worm slip between his clothing and travel down his spine. You order the rest of the worms to follow suit, finding any opening, any crevice to invade.

Hunter starts shaking and screeching, gesturing at you to steer the boat back to shore.

You keep the ruse, steering the skiff into a small island in the middle of the lake. As soon as you make your emergency docking, Hunter is running out of the boat attempting to shake off the worms. Somehow, he is able to catch your first worm before it can slip into his ass crack. “Fuck!” He screams as he stomps on it. That ticks you off.

As he jerks back and forth, you feel a few more parts of yourself shaken off. He can still feel the rest of your bits slipping and sliding beneath his clothes so he starts stripping as well. At last, you feel one worm slip through. 

He whimpers as he feels a cum-coated worm start to enter his piss slit. As you will it to go through, you can’t help but moan. It was an intrusion of the highest order, and feeling some of his seed mix with yours was pure euphoria. His face flashes to you in horror before he too moans involuntarily. It must have been a uniquely violating experience. To add to the confusion that must have been plaguing his mind, you start to strip down as well. He’s in full shock now, unable to stammer out any response. You use those precious moments to ram him into the ground, jamming a handful of worms right into his screaming mouth. 

The small tussle leads to a few cuts on his otherwise perfect flesh, but you capitalize on the opportunity and will the worms he shook off earlier back into his body through these makeshift orifices. You watch Hunter’s face go beet red, neck veins enlarging in struggle, as a giant mass of you floods into his screaming mouth. He manages to regurgitate a good amount, but enough of you is already inside. Before he can shake your main body off, his hips buck forward, hands grabbing his own ass in shock. More worms burrowing into him. This time, from behind. You make sure these pieces of yourself stimulate his g-spot, leaving him bound to inaction by senseless pleasure. You pin his grimy, convulsing body with the weight of yours, relying mostly on the sensory overload to lock him in place as you claim your hunt. 

Hunter’s breaths are hot, damp and shallow with struggle. You take this moment of preoccupation to take an early taste, bringing your lips over his. One of your worms already deep in his flesh stimulates a few nerves, forcing him to reciprocate. More slip in between muscle tendons, willing his arms into a loving embrace. He’s seething, as he feels his own flesh pulling you two closer. The corners of his lips tremble, fighting the commands you inundate them with. Resistance wanes, as he feels his face pull into a seductive smile. It’s entirely out of character and he feels the sheer wrongness in the personality you force him to wear.

“T-told you I could teach you to fish,” he speaks in velvet, winking before leaning in for a kiss. Hunter’s surprisingly soft lips slowly part yours, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth. 

His eyes seared with rage, but his face reflected a completely different emotion. You make him pull the most obscene smile you can sculpt with your control over his facial muscles. His tongue retracts, eyes briefly showing relief before it reenters in a more forceful manner. You stifle a moan.

Hunter shivers slightly, rubbing more of his sweat over you, as you make him shake off another attempt to reassert control. He was not going to ruin this. His smile widens as his tongue gently swirls in your mouth, coating you with his saliva and bombarding you with his taste. It then wrestles yours, briefing locking your two forms into one. With the smuggest grin you can squeeze out of him, you make him breathe into you, and you into him. His lips moving make yours move as well, though the words he is forced to speak were yours to begin with. “Fuck yeah,” he moans loudly into your mouth. You feel his deep voice reverberate into your mouth, down your throat where it resonates outward. It practically feels like he’s speaking through you. You can’t help but cum, basting more of his flesh with your seed. That sets him off enough to rip away from the extended kiss, spitting revulsion at your face.

You lick your mouth clean. Waste not, want not. Besides, Hunter tastes delicious. He is able to struggle again, rebellion renewed by the sheer horror at his brief glimpse of his future as your puppet.

You feel command waning. You try to rile yourself up in opposing anger, but you can’t help but admit the push and pull turned you on a little. Besides, to have the strength and will able to fight off all the sensations of your wriggling mass entering every port in his body at once only made you want Hunter more.

Feeling your hardening dick press upon him only served to anger the thrashing man further. You sync with your worms, commanding the wriggling mass to move in tandem. In every second of control, you make him play with your bodies, forcing him to grab your hips and center your main body above him grind into you from below. Fuck. You moan.

To be so new to his body, you lack the finesse to control your new vessel fully, so Hunter’s movements are downright vulgar. He grabs your ass with a dominating grip, pulling into a nasty smirk while licking his lips. “Make me yours.” Instantly, his demeanor changes as he fights off your control again. His hands grip dirt, clawing in agony as he tries to get his bearings. Slowly but surely, you feel the dance of authority between you two slow, as your worms settle into more efficient positions in his body. This time, it’s Hunter who’s body grabs a handful of your remaining worms, and, with the biggest shit-eating smile you can get out of him, stuffs his mouth full of it. 

Most of the worms are now safely tucked inside your new home, so you ease up on Hunter. He looks to you in rage as he continues choking, as his muscled arms and legs flail useless, and as your worms find crevices inside of Hunter to slink into. Now, he too can feel how deep into his being these pieces of you are going, so he starts hyperventilating. That just turns you on even more, feeling those powerful lungs of his heave. You couldn’t wait for these to be fully yours to play with.

His body trembles as he tries in vain to stop his kind face from contorting into another lewd smile. Seeing him as your puppet? Watching his flesh defile itself- feeling Hunter do it with your smile shining through? It’s enough to get your new jockbound dick instantly hard. You drool at the sight of Hunter’s enlarging dick. “Complete me,” he moans.

You start by hijacking his genetic material. Your wormy mass is quick. It wriggles deep into his crotch. His body grunts as his hands grasps at his own flesh. ‘Something is wrong’, He feels his body telling him. At least, even more wrong than you had already made it. And something was indeed wrong. You were not content in having, binding, commanding Hunter’s form. You wanted more. 

His face winces in pain as he feels his own brain memories recall his memories for you.

It was nice day in the park with his parents. The warmth of the sun and the light breeze framed the idyllic memory. Then you make him taint it. “Fuck yeah.” It pains his brain to continue, but you press on. “Can’t believe those two bred all this… I’m getting hot just thinking about it.” His face twitches until he is ultimately forced to lick his lips. “Get nice a strong, lil me. Build up those muscles so we can be the perfect puppet for him.” At that, Hunter recoils at feeling his own flesh generate pleasure from the thought you make him have. “I’m your perfect muscle sleeve. Use me.” He gagged as his own younger self in his memory anachronistically replied back. “Hell yeah, can’t fucking wait to be worn.”

Totality. You wanted it all. Past. Present. Future. You force his mind to linger on that last point before a payload of your worms burrow into his balls.

Instantly, you gorge the bits of yourself inside him on his seed. Squeezing each writhing worm into them. Outside Hunter’s body, your main body gasps. Mmmm. Strong genes. You make Hunter’s own hands dance across his flesh, fondling himself inappropriately. His insides fared no better. Hunter’s baby batter factory had been hijacked. Fully controlled. Fully infested. Fully yours. Your wriggling mass is no longer thin. They’ve been enhanced. Imbued with Hunter’s strength. Inlaid with your perversion. You feel them start to expand to their true size and form so you will them to spread throughout Hunter’s body and recondense. His tough muscle and flesh provides enough pressure to keep your new offspring together in a manageable size, just barely.

The next few moments are intense. You immediately back from the heat. Hunter whimpers as he collapses. Body twitching in odd places, skin bulging and then receding as your “offspring” together churn inside him. They find more areas to settle into. This time, Hunter is whining for a different reason. His body was not fighting the intrusion at all. That makes your dick stir. You feel his own seed coating your worms like your own personal Trojan horse. They easily slip into the cores of his muscles, cores of neurons. He tries to will his body into a fight but it’s useless. Betrayal and frustration. You feel these thoughts course in Hunter’s mind. He’s yours.

You can now feel every neuron, every cell and fiber of Hunter’s being scream and fight as you force him to speak his next words. He wraps you in a big bear hug, dousing you in his testosterone-laden sweat. In the sultriest voice you can force out of his vocal cords, Hunter looks to you with a convincingly earnest stare. “I want you to be my boyfriend”. 

= = = = =

The people have spoken and they want “naughty”, I may still work up the “nice” one, at some point.

There’s more parts to this one, but it’s already a bit long.

[earlysunshines]

clouded

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff(?)

synopsis: you find yourself with the girl you hate the most, she's drunk, bitchy, yet effortlessly eye-catching even as she insults you. 

warnings: cursing ; alcohol ; not proofread

a/n: hey... hi! surprise!!

the thumping bass of the music downstairs reverberated through the walls, but in the secluded room upstairs, it was muffled, distant. in this quiet corner, away from the chaos of the party, and sana joined you, settling on the floor with a weariness that mirrored your own. 

“you fucking piss me off, you know?” sana scoffs, slurring her words and failing to keep her attention on on place. “you bitch.” 

“oh shut the fuck up, who’s the one calling me fresh meat? easy to bait? and whatever else you’ve said about me.” you retort, holding a cup of water up to her lips. “drink, shouldn’t be hard since it’s the only thing you’ve been doing all fucking night.” 

leaning her head against the doorframe, sana looked tired, her features bathed in the soft glow of the lamp. you could just barely see her flushed cheeks and the bridge of her nose, accentuating the subtle curve of her plump, parted lips. her eyes, heavy-lidded with fatigue, held a strange warmth as they met yours in the soft illumination.  

you hadn’t had anything to drink, so you can’t blame the alcohol for the spike of your heart beat or the sudden warmth in your cheeks. it was probably the adrenaline from the house party, it had to be because the last person that should be holding your attention captive right now is minatozaki sana. you'll blame the adrenaline for your lingering gaze and the way you subtly admire her face. 

sana's expression twisted into a grimace as she lifted the red plastic cup to her lips. with a sloppy motion, she took a slow sip, the liquid inside trickling down her throat. holding the cup in her hands, she seemed almost childlike, as if she had just come back from running all over the playground. something like that. 

“can you just... go. your face pisses me off.” sana mumbles, opening her eyes a little more just to narrow them again at you. “you piss me off.” 

“yeah? i think i got the hint. you've said that like, five times already in the past minute, including when i helped you up the stairs.” 

 sana groans, putting her palm to her head and sighing. she's absolutely wrecked, she has to be after downing three shots of straight vodka and that nasty beer in the cooler. 

none of her friends had helped her out, and even though she had talked shit about you and been a bitch to you for most of the time you’ve known her – you couldn’t just leave her alone while she’s drunk and groggy.  

“i’m taking you home.” 

“says who?” 

“me, so shut up for once or you’ll find yourself awake tomorrow on the floor and hungover in someones house.”  

sana remained silent, her body melting into the material behind her as she found a moment of reprieve. with the cup still cradled delicately in her hands, she brought it to her lips once more, sipping the water with deliberate slowness. as she swallowed, a contented sigh escaped her lips, a small drop of water lingering at the corner of her mouth. 

your eyes darted to the droplet, a curse escaping your lips as you moved instinctively to wipe it away. with a quick motion, your thumb brushed against her skin, capturing the droplet before it could slip further down her chin.  

“you’re a fucking mess.” you groan. 

sana's intense gaze locked onto yours, her eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to pierce through your very soul. the proximity between you felt almost suffocating, with only inches separating your bodies. your hand pulled away as you sensed her closeness, a flush of embarrassment colored your cheeks.  

sana's gaze flickered down to your lips, her jaw tightening imperceptibly before meeting your eyes once more.  

the world seemed to stand still, the only sound that registered in your ears – despite the bass ringing from downstairs – was the thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  

“why are you still taking care of me?” sana groans, turning her head so she can push herself into the material behind her even more. “just leave me alone...” 

“your little friend group either found someone to fuck or completely abandoned your ass, and i actually have morals. i couldn’t just... leave you there.” you respond, feeling yourself grow bashful. you sigh, looking at sana’s state before grabbing her cup and helping her up.  

your hand instinctively found its way to sana's waist, providing support to keep her upright as you guided her towards the door. with a gentle touch, you steadied her, feeling the warmth of her body against your palm. as you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, sana's mumbling reached your ears, the words failed to register in your mind. complete gibberish was being uttered, but it was better than an insult. 

in her drunked state, sana leaned into you, her lips dangerously close to your neck. you could feel the heat of her breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as you braced yourself before going down the stairs. with each step, the proximity between you seemed to intensify as she weakly tried to tighten her hold around your neck.  

but even as you focused on maintaining your balance and guiding sana safely downstairs, the proximity between you stirred something puzzling. in that fleeting moment, as you finally reached the main floor of the house, the world around you faded into insignificance.  

"hey, wait... you’re slipping away, y/n, don’t leave," sana's voice pierced through the fog of the party, the unexpected emotion catching you off guard. it was a side of sana you hadn't seen before, vulnerable and raw, and it pulled at your heart strings.  

her words were sincere, devoid of the usual sharpness that characterized her tone. instead, there was a longing in her voice, a desperate plea for your presence that left you feeling disoriented.  

"i’m sorry for saying your face pisses me off, it— it doesn’t, it just, you’re so pretty and— please don’t leave me here, it’s so loud...” 

sana's confession hung in the air, leaving you with a mixture of confusion and warmth. was she being genuine in her apology and compliment, or was it just the alcohol talking? it was hard to decipher, and the uncertainty left you feeling perplexed. 

as you stood there with sana in your arm, you couldn't help but tighten your hold on her, a silent promise that you wouldn't leave her side. 

"sana, hey," you began, your voice soft and gentle. "i'm here, we're just a couple steps from the door. i won't leave you." 

the corners of your lips tugged up, a reassuring smile spreading across your face, genuine and unguarded. it was the first time you had smiled at sana, a rare moment of warmth breaking through the tension between you. for once, she wasn't the insufferable, sharp-tongued prick that she usually was. instead, she was vulnerable, you could get used to this, 

sana paused, her lips parting slightly as she gazed at you, mesmerized by the sight before her. in that moment, her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty, despite this—one thing became clear: she wanted to see that grin of yours again and again. maybe she’d let go of a bitchy facade, it wouldn’t hurt to throw one less insult your way. 

getting out of the house wasn't too difficult, but maneuvering past the couple making out in the doorway was definitely a challenge. sana clung to you tightly as you navigated through the crowded area, murmuring something – what had she been saying? hell, you couldn’t make out any of it – until the two of you had fully made it down to the sidewalk. 

as you reached the car, sana's grip on you tightened, her words a jumble of unintelligible syllables. despite the difficulty in deciphering her drunken words, you managed to open the door to the passenger side, guiding her inside with gentle persistence. 

once seated, sana squirmed in her seat, making it a challenge to fasten her seatbelt. after pushing the seat back for her and earning more space to maneuver, you managed to secure the buckle, before slipping into the driver's seat and starting the engine. 

as you drove, sana watched your every move with a squinty, curious look, her gaze unwavering despite the haze of alcohol clouding her senses. it was as if she was trying to piece together the puzzle of your actions, her eyes reflecting a mixture of fascination and befuddlement. despite the jumbled circumstances, there was a sense of intimacy in the way she observed you. 

“what’s your address?” you ask, turning to her and raising a brow. she stays silent, eyes threatening to close.  

you scoff, shaking your head out of frustration because the lenience towards your daily hassle is starting to run low. swiftly, you grab her face lightly, squishing her cheeks in between your fingers subtly to sober her up the best you can. sana's cheeks flush, and it’s not the alcohol fucking her up that’s making it happen. 

“i hate drunk people like you, so goddamn incompetent.” you sigh, watching her eyes widen slightly. “as if you weren’t already a pain in the ass.” 

sana furrows her brows, pouting and turning away from you before crossing her arms.  

“you’re so mean.” she whines, turning her body towards the window on her side. 

“you’re saying that to me?” you question, raising your brows out of pure disbelief. “i could write a list of shit you’ve had to say—” 

“i say things all the time, just take me home, you talk so fucking much.” sana groans, closing her eyes. “i live in the apartment closest to the shopping center in northside.” 

dealing with this intoxicated version of sana was testing your patience more than her usual, sober self ever did. her pouty and moody demeanor grated on your nerves, pushing you to the brink of simply cursing her out. despite the annoyance, you couldn't deny the inexplicable pull she had on you.  

as you drove, her squirming and murmuring only added to your exasperation, but beneath the surface irritation, there was an undeniable attraction simmering. it was infuriating how her drunken antics somehow made her even cuter, despite your best efforts to resist. her poutiness and moodiness, while frustrating, held a hint of vulnerability that made it easier to tolerate her. as much as you hated to admit it, there was a small part of you that found it endearing, a flicker of affection that you couldn't quite ignore.  

just a little bit cute, that’s all she was right now, even as you fought against the growing attraction. it was a terrible predicament to be in, but as you stole glances at her from the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but feel drawn to her in a way that defied literally everything that you’ve felt about her before. 

(though, you’ve always found her attractive, it’s that personality of hers that made you want to throw something at her.) 

it was terrible, this whole situation. she’s being a prick – nothing new – yet she looks adorable.  

- 

half of the car ride was filled with stupid sighs and incoherent rambles coming from the drowsy, intoxicated woman to your right. ten minutes pass and you’re parked in front of what you think is sana’s apartment complex.  

you help her out and she clings onto you again, temporarily getting rid of your irritation.  

“second floor, 203.” she says, holding you closer than before. 

you've been in this situation countless of times, being friends with touchy, emotional men who find themselves calling you at the ungodly hours of night every weekend with lazy, drunken voices. however, sana makes you laugh with this sudden affection. the only thing your male friends have made you feel is angry and irritated, but you’d rather have those assholes survive the night instead of outside and vulnerable. 

"sana," you mutter, realizing it would be a hassle to walk her all the way to her place, "just... hang on." with a sigh, you gently pry her clinging arms off you, before crouching down slightly. "get on my back, it'll be faster." 

sana hums in confusion, her drunken haze making comprehension a bit slow. but with a tilt of your head and patient urging, she finally gets the message. slowly, she clambers onto your back, wrapping her arms around your neck and resting her head on your shoulder as she piggybacks you. she’s closer than before, close enough that you can smell the mix of alcohol and vanilla coming from her.  

"you're strong," she mumbles, her voice slurred. 

"you're not heavy, sana," you chuckle, surprising yourself with how amused you are by the situation.  

sana really isn’t heavy, making it easier for you to walk up the stairs despite a whole woman being on your back. you reach the second floor and look for her room number, 203, and let out a small breath of relief once you reach it.  

you try to get her off your back, but she simply clings on tighter with each attempt.  

“no, this is fun, i have the code, just press.” sana mutters into your ear, “1019.”  

rolling your eyes at sana's whining, you punch in the code and the door unlocks with a soft click. with a sigh of relief, you turn the knob and let yourselves in, flicking on the lights to illuminate the dimly lit apartment. your gaze immediately falls on the couch across the room, and you guide sana over to it, ignoring her protests. 

once she's settled on the couch – although not without more grumbling – you stride over to the nearby fridge. opening it, you grab a bottle of water. with water in hand, you return to sana's side, gently coaxing her to drink a little more. 

"come on, sana, it'll help you feel better," you urge, holding the bottle to her lips and tipping it slightly. despite her reluctance, you manage to get her to take a few sips. “lightweight.” you say under your breath. 

after you wipe away at the water that managed to spill out the corner of her lips, she groggily says, “i’m so tired.”  

“then sleep, you’re home.” 

“will you leave me if i do?” 

looking at her in surprise, you respond, “what?” 

sana lays down on the couch, her cheek smushed against a pillow, a soft sigh escaping her lips. 

"why don't you stay?" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you chuckle softly at her suggestion, shaking your head in amusement. "you'd kill me in the morning. i don't know if you're aware of this right now, minatozaki, but you fucking hate my guts." 

with a wistful smile, you glance around the room, your eyes landing on a cozy-looking blanket draped over the back of the couch. without hesitation, you reach for it and gently drape it over sana -- only covered in her cropped, fit tee and jeans -- ensuring she's comfortable before responding, 

"i wish i knew why," you admit, your voice tinged with a hint of dissapointment. 

sana's response catches you off guard, her words slurred with sleepiness. "i don't. you’re just... too pretty to be interacting with someone like miyeon. she's worse than you." 

miyeon? the mention of your ex-friend only adds to the confusion of the evening, and you can't help but dismiss sana's words as nonsense ramblings brought on by alcohol. 

"you're saying stupid shit right now," you tease gently, a fond smile playing on your lips as you look at her tenderly. 

despite the chaos of the night and the annoyance she's caused you, there's something undeniably endearing about sana in this moment. it's hard to hate her when she's like this, vulnerable and unguarded, and you find yourself softening towards her despite your better judgment. 

as sana closes her eyes and falls into a peaceful silence, you take it as your cue to start leaving. with one last glance at her sleeping form, you quietly make your exit, knowing that it's best to give her the rest she needs to recover from the night's festivities. 

you can't help but feel a warmth spreading through your chest, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, dealing with this intoxicated sana isn't so bad after all—maybe even sober sana. you wouldn’t mind taking care of her again, maybe less bickering, though. maybe she’s not so bad, but you’ll come to a final conclusion later.

probably. 

[samatisbaits]

Plastic Worms For Fishing to easy catching fishes

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[papurgaatika]

Scarcely Can Speak For My Thinking, What You’d Do To Me Tonight

Pairing: VA! Joel Miller x f! reader 

Minors DNI with my work please!!

A/N: howdy howdy my lovelies. I know what yall are thinking: papaya didn't you post a fic literally less than two weeks ago? And to that I would say yes, yes I did. However, I have been working on this one for a while and somehow managed to finish it on the plane! Thank you as always to my lovely beta readers @carlynkurin and @joelsdagger The title is a Hozier lyric (are yall really surprised?) This is officially dedicated to my beloved @joeloverture and despite my darling vetty's step off of tumblr, she truly deserves the world. also if you're mean to her i will find you. that is a threat

I hope y'all enjoy the read, and that the filth keeps you going in times of need. Peace and love on the planet Earth from me!!! Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags: Erotic voice actor Joel! AU, Young Joel, No outbreak AU, smut, condescension, degradation, f! masturbation, praise, squirting, smut, LOTS of dirty talk, oral (f receiving) friends to lovers, fingering, voice kink, Joel loves thighs, Joel Miller arm appreciation, the reader is a mess, no use of y/n, Joel can pick reader up but he’s HUGE so it makes sense, no description of reader, 18+ Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: you have been using audio erotica to get off for a month, and manage to accidentally let it play in Joel's car, leading to an awkward night in 

You let out an exhausted huff as the dim light of your phone reflected on your face. Your headphones connected, your vibrator was charged, but in some godforsaken twist of fate, there was not a single thing worth listening to on the newest audio erotica page you could find. Videos hadn’t been doing it for you, the ethical concerns were too high for you to be horny, and as much as you liked a good fanfic, you had gone through most of the ones you liked and needed something new.  You click on a post with semi intriguing tags, immediately rolling your eyes and exiting out of it when you hear the all too familiar vocal fry of men trying to sound hotter. News flash: you don't. 

You were moments away from calling it a night and opening your backlog of smutty ao3 fics when another post caught your eye. You let out a snort at the username save_a_horse and glance at the tags. Okay you were definitely interested now, a degrading instructional… you hit play with baited breath, prepping for the worst, but you were so mistaken. 

“Filthy little thing aint ya?” the voice rings in your ears, heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly quickly. “Must be so pathetic if you’re clicking on a mean stranger's voice to get ya’self off” his voice was like hot honey. Sickly sweet and keeping you waiting for his every word but with an edge that stung in the best way. You shuffle yourself back onto the pillows and throw your covers off, fully prepared to enjoy this rare gem. Your breathing picks up, heavy with want as the man in your ears calls you a desperate little slut. 

“Go on, get your toy wet slut” his voice croons out at you “know ya have one, too fuckin’ needy not to.'' Always eager to please, your lips find the base of your curved g-spot vibrator and let the soft plastic fill your mouth, drawing sounds that were almost too debauched for you to be sitting in bed alone. “Bet you love havin your mouth filled like that.. Lord, I'd love to have your pretty little lips around my cock” your eyes practically roll back at that, spit running down the base of your toy before he finally tells you to put it in.  

“Atta girl, such an eager thing” The toy sinks into your sopping cunt with ease as the voice envelops your mind, solely focusing on him. You listen with intense obedience as he tells you how deep, how quick, how much you were allowed. “Go on then, fuck yourself on it. We both know you want to” 

You let out a soft cry as you slip the toy in and out, the curve just hitting the spot that makes your back arch. Your breathing hitches as you press down on the button to turn the vibrations on. “Creamin’ all over yourself I bet,” it was like he could see you. Like he was able to see your arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, how the damp sheets clung to your thighs as they shook and twitched with pleasure. 

“Bet you’re so damn close.. Go on then slut, cum while listenin’ to me'' he taunts slightly as your orgasm washes over you in waves. “Gonna ruin ya,” his words are assertive, less of a promise and almost a threat “ain’t gonna cum unless it's to my voice anymore. Good fuckin’ girl”  You take a few steadying breaths as the audio clicks off, and you blink up at your ceiling unsure of how to go on from there. You glance down at your phone which has made its way to the opposite side of your bed and move to grab it.

You hit play on another audio. 

As the weeks go on, you and the mysterious cowboy in your ears have an immensely good time together. You practically spend every night listening to every one of his audios, leaving silly comments on the ones that make you cum particularly hard. It might have been an issue, how often you found yourself waiting for him to upload, how quickly you would pause your tasks to listen to new updates, but you were having fun and it wasn’t like you were hurting anyone in the process. 

You had just finished an audio before the blaring noise of a horn outside your door rattled you. The clock on your phone taunts you as do the several missed calls and texts from your best friend. “Fuck. fuck okay” you grumble, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before tossing a pair of comfy shorts on and grabbing your bag, and heading outside “have you never heard of a virtue called patience miller?” you quip as you slide into the passenger seat of his truck 

“Had it for the first five minutes, but about 10 minutes after that, I was damn ready to break your door down myself” he scoffs “what took you so damn long?” he rolls his eyes as you fiddle with the bluetooth in his car, not wanting to be stuck with what you call ‘old home music’ 

“I was just finishi-” your words are cut off when the sound of a moan plays over the speaker. Just your luck. You kept the grumpiest man alive waiting and then played porn in his car. Hooray for you. “Jesus fucking-” you squeak, fiddling with your phone and closing out of the app “Joel-” you start, cheeks burning and excuses already at the tip of your tongue, before he silently shakes his head and puts the car in reverse. 

The ride back to his house is awkward to say the least. “Joel listen I didn't mean for-” you mumble out meekly, but his sharp gaze on yours has you clamping your mouth closed immediately. You fiddle with your fingers, thinking about playing music, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. The grip Joel has on the steering wheel is practically iron-clad, his knuckles almost white with the tension as he pulls into his driveway and puts the car in park. You walk into his house with a huff, your weekly game nights off to a bit of a rocky start, but you’ve had to deal with worse with him. Joel had given you moral support when your menstrual cup had gotten “stuck” during one of your first times using it, he could deal with knowing you listened to porn. 

You plop down onto his couch, stretching your legs out on the coffee table while he gets you a glass of iced tea. You take a sip of your drink and mentally prepare yourself for how bad he was going to tease you about this, but are met with shocking amounts of silence. For a man who is ruthless on game nights, the lack of trash talk and absolute avoidance was almost irritating you. Finally, after you beat him in uno for a third time in a row, you snap “What is your issue tonight miller?” you groan, placing a +2 card down “Listen I know that was awkward but we’re both adults I don't see what the big deal is'' 

Joel groans and places another +2, changing the color (much to your annoyance,) “just drop it, nothin’s the issue”  You, petulant and stubborn as ever, did not drop it. You huff as you have to take like 5 cards from the deck before getting one that you can play, and narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bullshit” you move to sit cross-legged on the couch “I never beat you in this game, something is wrong with you tonight,”  it was almost as if nobody had ever taught you not to poke a sleeping bear. Or maybe you figured that the bear was your best friend and probably wouldn't bite your head off… probably. 

“Just drop it peaches,” his words are terse, hands gripping his, now slowly diminishing, uno cards much tighter than he needed to. You groan again when you have to get another few cards. The irritation at his childish behavior, coupled with the stack of 20 cards in your hand makes you more of a menace than you probably should. 

“Don't be such a baby, Miller,” you poke his leg with your foot knowing full well he hates it, a yelp leaving your lips as he grabs your ankle and pulls you forward “Joel!” Your cards fly out of your hand 

“Told you to fuckin’ quit it peach.” His voice is a low timber, stirring something deep in your belly. “Never fuckin’ listen to me” 

You just snort at him when he releases your ankle, moving to pick up your cards, “you suck at uno today Joel” you hmph, rising to your feet “'m gonna get something else” you hear Joel protest and try to grab at your arm but you’re too determined and he’s far too comfy to get up quick enough.  You manage to make it to his spare room, swinging the door open, imagining you’d see a shelf with his board games only to stop dead in your tracks, “what the fuck-”

What you had always assumed was just his spare junk room or random linen closet, was what looked like an at home recording studio. A desk with a PC and speakers, full microphone set up, and what you could only assume was something to help with soundproofing  “What the fuck Miller?” Your voice is slightly full of awe, “are you recording shitty male superiority podcasts now?” you tease, a sly grin on your face. 

Despite how pleased you are with that crack at him, he looks absolutely unamused. He practically clomps over at you, big finger poking your ribs ``you know damn well I ain't doin’ that shit.” He rolls his eyes at your teasing. The idea of Joel Miller getting on the internet to talk about women in a way that wasn't him sitting at his desk going ‘they’re the best damn thing’ was laughable. He was a perfect gentleman to everyone, except maybe to you, but frankly you deserved it for all the shit you gave him. 

You squeak when his finger prods at your skin “okay, okay well what creepy shit are you doing in here then?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, sauntering to his PC set up. The computer and speakers were calling out to you like a siren, and you did not have the common sense to plug your ears. 

Joel knew you. He could read you like a fucking book with how close the two of you were. He used to say that the one braincell you had spent fifty percent of its time inside his mind with how predictable you were to him. “Peach do not fuckin’ dare-” his voice is low, warning you. 

If you had better self preservation skills you would have probably heard the alarm bells ringing in your head telling you that he was serious, or paid better attention to the way his sweats were a little more tight. But you unfortunately were a complete menace, so neither of those items really registered to you. You clap your hands in an evil little giggle when you move the mouse “still no password? Shit you make my life so fucking easy-” you grin as you see the different clips of audio layered together in whatever program he uses 

Joel has somehow silently appeared behind you, his hand pulling you away from the computer. “Quit it peach, I’m not fuckin’ around,” he grits out, the hold on your wrist almost impossibly tight. He means business this time, and despite how much of a hellion you can be to him, you didn’t have a death wish. 

You scrunch your nose at him trying to pull your wrist out of his grip “okay jesus chri-” you yank your hand away from his, elbow bumping into the keyboard and are cut off with the sound of a gravely moan coming out of the speaker. Both you and Joel look like deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes flick between Joel, whose face has gone impressively red, and the screen of his computer.  “I- joel this is-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what to say in this situation. 

“Not a fuckin’ peep.” he practically growls at you. Your mouth clamps shut as he leans over you and presses pause on the audio. Your mouth is drier than it had ever been. That was a clip of your best friend, the one who was looming over you at this very moment, moaning into a microphone. You were certain that if you had listened any closer you would have been able to hear the sounds of his hand stroking his cock. The slight creak of his chair, the wet noise of the lube, or was he a spit guy? He however, was not interested in sharing any more of the audio with you, and you would deny it if anyone asked, you were a little disappointed. 

You need to say something, you had to, and despite your better judgment telling you not to, you do. “I mean you sound nice-” You sound nice?? You were so fucking ridiculous, even you knew that wasn’t the thing to say. Joel’s eyes darken at your words, and for a moment you fear he’s going to kick you out, to get truly pissed off at you for the first time since you finished his Dr. Pepper stash.  “I didn't mean-” you try to backtrack “I just meant- it... You sounded like you were enjoying yourself at least-'' you were actively digging the hole that you were in deeper, rambling and stuttering, all while Joel just stared at you silently, his eyes burning into you

You swallow hard, his eyes still not leaving yours “listen I can go I'm sorry I shouldn't have-” you go to make a beeline out of the room but a firm hand pulling you back into the chair stops you. You fall back with an oof and look up at Joel, who by all accounts looked pissed but there was something else. His pupils were blown and his eyes trace every single one of your movements. The bear had managed to lock in the own cage you had set out for him. 

“Didn't tell you to leave.” he practically grunts at you. Ladies and gentlemen, your best friend, always the most well spoken person in the room. You move to protest again, but the look he gives you stops the words before they even form on your tongue.  you bite your lip and fiddle with your fingers unsure what to do “think I sound nice peaches?” his voice cuts through the anxious rambling in your brain and you're almost certain you've heard him wrong 

“Huh?” you look back up at him through your lashes. He was leaning against the wall where his microphone was set up. His sweats were riding low on his hips and his hoodie covered the toned muscles of his arms, that if anyone asked you had never stared at. The tanned skin you never dared to fantasize about in your bed. The hair that covered his arms, the veins that often made more appearances when you asked forced him to do manual labor that you refused to do yourself. 

“Asked if you think I sound nice, Peaches?” he hums, raising a questioning brow at you. your mouth opens and closes ridiculously a few times before you simply just nod at him  “that's good..” he muses as he comes back up to you “do you think about me?” he prods, a patronizing pout on his lips as you gape up at him. “when you're listening to those dirty little audios and lettin’ your fingers touch that needy cunt?”  you can't help but squeak at his words. the way he said them, the way he spoke was just so… familiar  “come on, pretty peach, tell daddy what you think about when you're fingering that slutty little pussy” he practically grins at you and it fucking clicks. 

Daddy. Daddy. It was him. The stupid cowboy, the random man whose voice sent your tummy into knots, the one who had been getting you off for weeks now was your best friend.  “Joel-” you practically whimper at him. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and also very distinctly between your legs. “Listen i didn’t know it was you-” there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, one that you would have told him to wipe off his face before you smack it off in any other scenario. 

“No?” he hums at you, his brow quirked up as he towers over you in that stupid recording chair “didn't know it was me when you were commenting all those pretty little reviews?” You whimper out a noise, somewhere between a no and a general sound of timidity, as his hand tilts your chin up to meet his eyes  “Lemme see if I can remember what it was you said before I got you in the car today peach?” he takes a moment to obnoxiously tap his forehead mocking the way you recall things “what was it you said? ‘This made me late to see my friend, but it also made me ruin my sheets’? Was that it peaches?” 

You take a shaky breath, your skin burning under his intense gaze, chin still in his hands. You nod softly at his question, knowing that if you didn't, he would just push you until you did. His grin turns wolfish at your confirmation, and you feel him shift his legs between yours, pushing them apart “yeah peach?” he tuts at you “made me wait for almost 20 minutes outside your house. just so you could cum to my voice… ain’t real nice of you” You take a wobbly breath at his words and try to reply, unsure of what you would even say. An apology maybe, an explanation? But before you can even move to open your mouth he’s cutting you off again 

“Woulda just given you the real thing baby,” he tuts at you “all you had to do was ask.'' His voice is low and almost condescending. You shouldn’t let it turn you on, you should tell him to fuck off, but you feel yourself gush at his tone, your bottom lip getting caught between you teeth. He whistles at the look on your face, his cock practically straining against his sweats, “bet you’re just creamin’ in those slutty little shorts baby'' his words aren’t a question, he’s stating it like he can read you like a book because he knows he can. His legs shift to press your legs further apart until your knees are bumping into the arm rests, your eyes unwavering from his.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he leans down to you, his lips pressed up by one of your ears “Listen to me like this peaches?” he whispers into your ear, a warm breath making you shiver before he moves to the other side “like having me in your ears with your legs spread?” 

“Yes.. fuck yes yes I do-” your words are rushed and lustful as you feel his hands dip into the waistband of your panties. Your hips jolt up into his touch, panties absolutely drenched with your arousal. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lips parting with a silent cry of pleasure. 

“Knew she’d be droolin’ all over” he hums as he brings his slick covered finger up to his lips and tastes you with delectable pop when he pulls off. “Tastes like I fuckin’ imagined. Like a fuckin’ peach” he groans and for a moment you swear you could cum just like that. 

“Shit Joel please-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head and a shushing noise, as he steps away from you. Your legs are still spread against the chair and you practically whine when he moves away from you, flicking on his recording set up. “Joel what-” he shushes you again, giving you a look that leaves no room for argument. 

“Quiet,” he mumbles, fiddling with the mic and pulling the rolling chair closer to it. “Like listenin’ to me so much, thought i’d use you for better effects. You okay with that peaches?” he asks, looking down at you. Despite the teasing and the mockery, you knew he would stop if you told him you didn't want it. But the idea of him stopping, even for a moment was going to make you explode. You nod, maybe too eagerly for someone about to get fucked on microphone, and he grins. 

“God always knew you were fuckin’ desperate for it” he kneels between your legs, and you stifle a giggle when his knees pop.  “Quit it you menace” He swats at your thigh playful smirk on his lips, making you jump slightly. “Gotta stay real quiet for me, understand?” you watch with bated breath as he moves the mic so it rests delicately in the tension filled space between your spread thighs and his face. 

You nod, lips parted, pupils blown, cunt practically dripping for him. He lets out a soft hum of approval, lips pressing a soft kiss to your thighs “nothing fuckin’ softer than a pair of soft thighs” he muses, half to himself, half to you and the mic “could just live between them forever, die happy if a girl pretty as a peach would let me bury my face there.” You feel yourself clench around nothing, feeling maddeningly empty all of a sudden. You shift to try to gain some friction, the chair giving a slight creak at the change in position. Joel looks up and glares at you, your body going still immediately under the intensity of his eyes. 

He sticks his hand out behind him, pausing the microphone from recording. “You need to stay. still.” he grits out at you “don't need the whole internet hearing how much of a desperate little thing you are.” You nod at his words, hands gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles turn white. He flicks the mic back on and his lips find your thighs again. Nipping and kissing the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts. He slides his hands further up, popping the button open and you have to bite down on your fist not to moan when he drags the zipper down with his teeth. He shimmies you out of your shorts, leaving your bottom half clad in your embarrassingly wet panties. 

He lets out a growl at the sight of your cunt, clothed and practically dripping for him. “Look at her… practically creaming already and I ain’t even touched you yet” He lets his thumb press against the wet spot the slight pressure just barely teasing your sopping hole dragging a breathy sigh out of you. You look down at him, eyes hooded and lips parting, practically begging for him without uttering a damn word. 

He looks up at you as he slides your panties to the side, blowing a stream of cold air straight onto your clit, making you jump. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy…” he practically salivates at the sight of you “nothin’ fucking better than seein’ a drippy, needy, little cunt in front of me…” he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right next to where you want him, where you need his lips 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words. Somehow it felt filthier being able to see the look on his face, the absolute need he had to taste you. The grip he had on your thighs was bruisingly tight, not helping your arousal die down in the slightest. His mouth finally finds your slit, tongue licking a hot wet stripe at an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a guttural moan and practically salivates at the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet” he groans, tongue dipping back down to taste more of your slick. One of your hands leaves the armrest of the chair and moves to cover your mouth when his lips place three gentle kisses around your clit before relenting and wrapping his lips around the aching bud, with a quiet hum. 

You bite down on your hand to stifle the moans threatening to spill, desperate and eager to please him. Your thighs shake when he slips a finger into your dripping cunt and curls them to hit that spot. He lets out a chuckle, lips still sucking on your clit. The vibrations of his warm breath on your aching clit elicited a desperate wine from your mouth, despite how hard you were trying to be quiet for him “Ffffuck-” 

He raises a brow at you, not even pulling away from your skin, his baby eyes just gazing at you from between your legs as his fingers work at you. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth in an effort to stop your sounds, but your attempts seem futile as your climax starts to draw near. Joel slips a second finger inside of you with embarrassing ease, the sound of his fingers curling inside you, joined only by your soft little breaths and his lips on your clit. His fingers stretch you in ways your fingers never have, scissoring and sliding inside of you with practiced precision. “Atta fuckin’ girl..” he growls as your toes curl instinctively, heels digging into his shoulder blades as the coil inside of you finally snaps. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, your thighs clamping around his head as he works you through it “squirtin’ all over daddy’s face huh like the needy thing you are.” 

He pulls your legs off from his legs and hits save on the audio, before glancing back at you with a smirk. “Ain’t posting that anywhere..” he whispers, the gentleness a shocking turn around from the filth he whispered to you earlier. Your breath is still coming out in shaky pants, looking up at him through hazy lids “keepin’ that all to myself” he hums, pressing a little kiss on your head. 

He scoops you up like you’re a ragdoll and practically clomps over to his bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. His fingers work deftly at the tie of his sweats, pushing them off. You squeak softly when you see the trail of hair going down his pelvis, the lack of boxers making heat rise to your chest. You work your top off, while he throws his hoodie across the room, a guttural groan leaving his mouth as he sees your breasts. “Fuckin’ perfect..'' His words aren’t necessarily for you, his thoughts just find themselves being voiced aloud. His calloused hands grope and knead at the softness of your tits before he presses wet kisses to each of your nipples. “Need to be inside ya” he practically begs, cock hard against his stomach leaking pre-cum. 

You could salivate at the sight, hell you truly might have a little bit. “Fuck me, Daddy, need you to fuck me Joel, please i can be good im ready, I'm on the pill-” your words were babbled, fast and rushed together, your intense desire for the man in front of you the only thing your brain could comprehend. Your legs part on the bed, your arousal dripping down your thighs calling to him like flowers call to a honeybee. 

“Christ, baby,” he groans before grabbing your legs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He fists his cock and slides it through your aching pussy, both of you letting out simultaneous cries of shit when your wetness coats his length. He slides into you with gentle thrusts, letting you adjust to his size slowly, before sinking in all the way with a soft whimper “take me so good…” his words are quiet and breathless, almost as if he was in awe of how your body made room for him. 

“Oh my god-” you cry out, your hands fisting in the dark sheets under your skin. “so fucking big joel..” you clench around him, body on fire with how good he felt inside you, with how perfect it was. It was like you were made to take him like this. His thrusts get faster and your legs curl around his waist, pulling him in as deep as you possibly could. The feeling of his hand pressing on your lower stomach has you arching your back into his touch. 

“Perfect fucking thing,” he grits huskier than usual, with a thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. “Feel me peaches?” he thrusts into you again and presses on your tummy “right fuckin’ there.. Right where I god damn belong…” his words were lust filled and hazy, his own need and orgasm clouding all judgment. Your hips roll against his, the coarse hair brushing up against you, and your head lolls back into the mattress as his thrusts get sloppier. 

“Inside, Joel fuck-” you whimper at him, eyes wide and pleading as your second orgasm builds in the pits of your belly “please cum inside me, wanna feel you please..” for a moment he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your pretty little moans and begging are like a dream come true for him. He just nodded and shifted so he was practically cradling your body under his, cock buried so deep inside you that you knew you’d be feeling it for days afterward. 

He grinds his hips lazily against yours while his thrusts are shallow and pointed. Your legs shake while you meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as you both fall apart practically molded together. “Jesus christ-” his breathing is ragged and hoarse “takin’ me so damn good, gonna fuckin’ fill you up” he gives a few more thrusts before he pulls out of your quivering pussy, your own orgasm sending stars into your eyes. 

You both stay like that for a moment, Joel's forehead resting softly on your shoulder as his cum spills out onto his bed. You shift softly to pull him next to you and curl into his touch, giving him a cheeky smile as you tilt his face to meet your eyes. “You…” a breathless little laugh escapes your lips “how long did you know I was commenting on your posts?” you ask softly, brows raised at him. 

He snorts at the question and flicks your forehead gently, earning a playful pout to be thrown in his direction. “Bout damn near two weeks ago” he replies, classic shit eating grin plastered to his face. “Figured it was you when you came over lookin’ like you’d won the damn Powerball and some little fan called peaches_and_cream left a comment about cummin’ three times to one damn post” you let out a muffled groan and bury your head into his chest, mumbling something about him being an asshole before you both shift into a comfortable silence. 

He moves, patting your hip and telling you to go use the bathroom after a few minutes, preaching his favorite safe sex speech and you roll your eyes at him before you saunter over to his bathroom. “Oh and Joel-” you call out before you walk in, eyes meeting his as he waits for you to finish your sentence “send me that audio, would ya?” 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[thebizzbaits]

Unleash the Power of Spinner Baits: Proven Technique for Trophy Fish

A spinner bait is a versatile fishing lure designed to attract fish through a combination of flash, vibration, and imitation. It typically consists of a wire frame with a weighted head at the front.

[lokis-army-77]

Piece of Cake

Dom!Eddie Munson x sub!fem reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Eddie catches you sneaking something you shouldn't and then you lie to him... so obviously you have to be punished

Warning: 18 +. spanking with a belt, handcuffs, sir kink, fingering, butt plug, aftercare, squirting, dom eddie, sub reader.

Masterlist

“And just what are you doing?” Eddie's voice startled you, causing you to jump and almost drop the cake box you were trying to remove from the fridge only a few seconds prior quietly. 

“Uh… nothing.” You quickly try to cover your actions, reaching for something random and pulling it out. “Just grabbing some…” you look at what you had snatched, “relish.” 

Eddie looked at you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised scepticly. “Oh really? Because to me, it looked like you were getting into the cake that I specifically told you not to touch.”

You stood there, back to the fridge, the cold air, and Eddie’s gaze, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “I was just moving the box so I could reach this.” You hold up the relish bottle and shake it, hoping he will take the bait.

The prolonged silence and the way he watches you with beady eyes make you uneasy. You avoid eye contact like your life depends on it, and your hands fiddle with the plastic condiment bottle. 

“You aren’t lying to me are you, baby doll?” He asks as he slowly pushes off the threshold and stalks around the kitchen counter to you. 

Shaking your head, you answer him. “No, Sir.” 

Eddie takes the relish from your hands, places it back in the fridge, and shuts the door. “You know I don’t like it when you lie to me. I’ll give you one more chance to tell me the truth.” 

You know you should tell him what you were doing, but you had to stick to the lie. So you try with all you have in you to look into those brown eyes and not look guilty as you spoke, “I’m not lying, Sir.”

Your hair stands on end when the soft features of his face turn ridges and sharp in an instant. His eyes darken and his jaw ticks. 

What scares you the most is how calm he is when he speaks next. “We have rules in this house, little girl, and you just broke two of them. And to make matters worse, you broke the most important one twice.” 

Being in trouble always made your stomach tie in knots. You hated seeing the disappointment on your boyfriend's face and this time was no exception. 

“Eddie please I’m-” 

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not my name right now and you know it.” He grasps your face in his large hand, squishing your cheeks with his thumb on one side and the other four fingers on the other. “Don’t even tell me you’re sorry, you don’t even know what that means but you will.” 

You feel dread wash over you as he forces you to look at him. 

“I want you to go to the bedroom, find the cuffs, belt, lube, and your plug, and place them on the bed. Then, I want you to take those shorts off and lay face down. Got it?” 

You nod as best you can in his harsh grip. “Yes Sir.” 

“Good. I’ll be there in a minute.” He lets go and you scurry down the hall to the room. 

Your heart beats a mile a minute as you collect everything Eddie asked for and it doesn't subside as you lay down on the bed. Nervously, you chew on your bottom lip, making it raw and red. 

The rush of blood in your ears is so loud that you only hear Eddie’s footsteps coming once he’s already made it into the bedroom. 

He doesn’t speak as he gets to work. First are the handcuffs, they are cold against your wrists as he secures them behind your back. Next, the pillow he fluffs up and shoves under your hips, helping to raise and present your ass. 

Large hands roam over the exposed skin of your thighs before they take hold of your thong and move it down below the curve of your ass. 

“You know I hate having to punish you, right?” He asks, climbing onto the bed behind you, his legs slotted on either side of your own. 

“I know, sir.” You respond. 

Eddie hums. “Do you? I don’t think you do, or else you would be my perfect little angel all the time.” 

You shake your head, “I do, I do. I’m sorry, Sir, it won’t happen again.” 

There’s a sudden smack to your ass. “Quit moving,” he commands and you do. “I want you to tell me why it is I’m having to punish you.” His words are emphasized by the creaking sound of the lube cap being opened. “Then, I will spank you with this belt until I feel you have learned your lesson.” He begins to squirt the lube generously onto your puckered hole. 

The cold makes your hips jerk but he holds you still. Then something even colder is placed onto the warm skin down there. With shaking breath, you feel him rubbing the metal butt plug through the lube, coating it. 

“Come on, tell me what you did.” 

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “I lied to you.” 

He circles your entrance with the toy. “Go on.” 

“I lied to you twice.” You turn your face into the comforter as he begins to push the plug in, the sudden stretch is a lot.

“About what?”

You groan, hands pulling at the cuffs as he takes the plug out and pushes it back in just a little farther. “Sir-”

“I asked you a question. What did you lie to me about?”

“I-I lied to you about getting a piece of cake.” You stutter. 

“And why was that against the rules?” 

“Because I had two pieces today already and you told me I couldn't have more!” The last of your sentence comes out in a jumbled moaning mess as Eddie pushes the plug all the way inside.  

“So disappointing…” He wraps the belt around his hand and begins to slowly stroke it against your ass. “You knew you weren't supposed to do what you did and yet you still disobeyed me.”

 You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the pain. He smacks you once and you gasp, feeling the sting across your skin.

“I'm sorry!” You cry out, hips moving away from the quick hits of the belt on your bare ass. 

“Sorry? I don’t think you are baby.” Eddie continues to belt you, his grip strong and unforgiving. You try to move away but he holds you in place, forcing you to take the punishment. 

Tears stream down your face as the pain settles into your skin. “Please,” you beg him, “no more.” 

He stops the belt for only a second to ask, “Color?”

“Green,” you heave through snot and sobs. “I’m green, Sir.” 

With your answer, he keeps going. Each sharp sting of the belt against your quickly welting skin has you shuddering with an ache. The punishment hurt but it also created a dull throbbing between your legs. 

Each hit had you clenching around the plug seated deep in your ass and with each contraction of your muscles, you couldn’t help but feel empty in the one place you needed Eddie: your cunt. 

You haven’t a clue how many times the belt made contact with your skin but when he eventually stopped, a cry of relief flew past your lips. 

“Did so good for me baby doll.” Eddie finally gave you praise as soft plush lips kissing the hot, reddened skin of your ass. You whimper at the feeling. 

He watches you for a moment, eyes tracing over every curve of your body. He counts every whelped, raised belt mark displayed on your ass. So when your thighs clench and your hips begin to undulate against the pillow beneath you, Eddie does not miss it. 

“My poor baby, did your punishment make you all needy?” he asks.

You nod, your hair tangling under you as you do.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” 

It takes everything in you to answer him. “Yes sir.”  

He pulls back and smirks, his eyes darkening with pleasure. “Good girl. Now, tell me what you want.”

“Want you… Please I want you so bad. Need your fingers, your cock, inside me. Please.” You are desperate. There is an emptiness inside you begging to be filled and the only thing that could ease the intense want in your bones is your boyfriend fucking into you. 

“Yeah? Is that what you need?” Eddie tosses the belt to the side, no longer needing it. “I will warn you, sweet girl, this is still a punishment. Don’t even think I’ll go easy on you.”

You lament, “Doesn’t matter, just need you in me, please.” 

Eddie wastes no time lifting your hips, forcing you to keep your weight on aching, wobbling knees. His thumb presses into the jeweled end of the anal plug, pulling a moan from your chapped lips.

“What’s your color right now baby doll?” He asks as deft fingers run down from the plug to your quivering cunt. You can feel how wet you are as he spreads your lips. The cool air of your bedroom wafts over your juices. 

“I’m green.” You whine, cantering your hips back into him. 

Without warning, Eddie's middle and ring fingers plunge into you. He wasn’t slow, his fingers pumped in and out of you at a pace so fast, it was hard to comprehend with your already fuzzy mind. 

Your wrists pull on the metal of your binds as you arch your back deeper. You open and close your fingers, wordlessly begging him.

Eddie sees your fingers flexing and asks, “What is it you need Sweetheart?” 

“Hand.” You groan. “Hold hand.” Your arms stretched as far back as they could to reach him and he eased your efforts by reaching out his free hand and grasping both of yours. 

You hold onto him tightly and he continues to finger fuck you. His long thick fingers are pushing up into your walls creating aquelching sounds and pulling noises you never knew you could make past your lips. 

It doesn’t take long for you to fill the pounding in your veins. Like the beat of a war drum, your heart beats fast and hard, pumping blood through you. The pit in your stomach has become a chasm and Eddie is doing his damndest to push you over the edge. You’re there, teetering at the side and all it takes is the introduction of a third finger, his pointer finger. 

With the stretch of that third digit, you let out a cry loud enough for the whole of Hawkins to hear you. “Gonna cum.” You scrunch your eyes hard. “Please, let me cum Sir.”   

Eddie grunts, moving his fingers faster. “Alright, baby. Cum for me.”

Your body is spasming, your hands grasp Eddie’s in a death grip, your thighs shake and lock and you feel a relieving gush from between them. 

The spasms stop and your muscles release. Eddie is quick to uncuff you and start on aftercare. 

He gives you kiss after sweet kiss as he cleans the mess you made of yourself and the bed beneath. Warm hands rub in soothing lotion over the areas he has spanked. 

You just lie there, whimpering when he touches a sore place.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry, baby. You did such a good job for me.” He praises. You smile weakly in response. He pulls you into a tight embrace and whispers, “I love you so much.” He kisses you again before letting you go.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into the sheets, suddenly still guilty for lying. 

“Shh, it’s okay, I know you are.” He lays next to you, pulling you in closer. “How about we lay here for fifteen minutes, then I take you to the bathtub?

You think about it for a second before nodding into his chest. “That would be nice. Thank you, Eddie.”

You can feel him smiling into your hair as he responds, but before you can hear the words, you've already drifted off into a much-needed sleep.

[bitterrfruit]

houndtooth [3]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut 18+ mdni - 3.4k words

“I’ll freeze to death.”  

You utter, voice low and tense; your cadence despite your effort is sheepish, as though you’re exerting every effort to reassert yourself as brave and unflinching. A mask to veil the shivering little rabbit you must spend most of your life trying to conceal.   

Ghost isn’t fooled by your disguise, by your attempts to obfuscate your vulnerability – no, he can scent your panic, that frightened wee animal at the centre of you, hidden beneath the baiting curves of your flesh. He might be able to see its reflection glistening in your nervous eyes, once he’s able to rip that sack off your head.  

The thought tempts a vengeful smirk that tugs at his lips. One he wished you could see, if only to witness your quaint bravery be exsanguinated from you at the sight of his amusement. 

Still, you’re not wrong.  

The dry air of the midwinter night must be dipping below the double-digit negatives. A frigid cold that Ghost himself had scarcely noticed on his expedition to your estate – shielded by many layers; woollen fleece under windbreaker under thick, gore-tex parka, face kept warm by his balaclava, fingers protected from frostbite by waterproof gloves. 

It’s a short ride to exfil by snowmobile, less than ten minutes – but, in all likelihood, long enough that the exposure could kill you by the time he hauled you to the helicopter.  

Long enough that it might freeze the mucus of your throat and lungs into crystalline shards, might blacken and petrify your extremities, might have your exposed skin sloughing off in a few days' time.  

Ghost knows he must return you to base alive. But, alive is the only condition that is expected of him. No expectation of unharmed. So, he is left to place bets on whether you’ll survive the journey.  

He could make a sport of it.  

He plays with your possible fates as though they were marbles in the palm of his hand, rolling them between fingers and uncaring if he drops them. 

“You might,” he chides gruffly, finally offering you a response. “It’d be your own fault for wearing a fuckin’ tissue.”  

His glower scrutinises you as he releases his hand from the doorknob, whose rattling must have informed you that he intended to drag you outdoors. He keeps his other gripped around your bicep, wrenchingly tight, he anticipates, hopes, that his grasp might leave bruises on your soft skin. You, slippery vermin, seem liable to flee at any moment, so he justifies it to himself.  

He watches your chest rapidly rise and fall, gratuitously exposed décolletage shimmering with a thin coating of sweat, it glows silky in the moonlight that illuminates you.  

You, standing as still as you can muster, covered only by your peony pink lingerie and a black hood over your head, hands bound with thick black cable ties – look like a scene out of a snuff film.  

Maybe you’ll end up in one. 

He finds himself silently appreciative you don’t have the satisfaction of seeing how long his hedonistic glare lingers on your cleavage; on the tightening of the edges of your lacy cups, cutting into the swell of your breasts with each of your quaking breaths, allowing them to pillow out of the top.  

Still, a small derisive scoff escapes you through the fabric. “I didn’t anticipate an outing.”  

You facetious little shit. Almost makes him laugh. 

Fine.  

With a shrill rip of Velcro, he tears open one of the flaps of a pocket on his tactical vest, plucking out a loudly rustling emergency blanket; a foil shawl folded neatly into a rectangle the size of a playing card, tucked into a plastic pouch.  

You step onto your back foot in an anxious reflex at the noise, little rabbit, maybe you’re expecting the worst. He hopes you are. 

But he’s doing you a favour. He grimaces in revulsion at the acknowledgement of that fact. Resents that you might be thankful for it. Tells himself it’s for the good of the mission – nothing more, nothing less. Reminds himself how much he’d otherwise relish in watching your skin turn indigo, left exposed to be ruined by the fatal ice of your country’s stark winter.  

Unwrapping it promptly, he tosses the thin foil to unfurl it, before floating it behind you. He pulls it over your shoulders, watching you wince at the sensation of it brushing against your bare skin. With rough haste he grabs hold your bound wrists, tugging them upwards and shoving the edges of the foil into your grip. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, a disingenuous show of sarcastic gratitude, as you roll your shoulders to adjust its coverage, holding the emergency cape tightly in your bound hands. The fabric of your hood sucks inward against your nose and mouth as you draw in a lengthy breath.  

“Don’t thank me,” he grunts, as he finally unlocks and pulls open the gargantuan, ostentatious entrance to your mansion; a towering double door, two thick slabs of carved wood. The frigid gale immediately floods into the gaudy foyer, forcing him to squint, its iciness pricking shards at his eyes and threatening to freeze solid the water that lubricates them.  

“Rgh – fuck,” you groan through gritted teeth, faltering bravery quickly giving way to squeaking panic. Your entire body tenses at the sudden gust of ice, toes curling and head twisting away from the blast of ice.  

He spectates amusedly as you immediately pull the thin foil to better cover yourself, admires as you struggle to do so while your wrists are bound.  

He adds, “…only delaying the inevitable.”  

Your negligée billows in the invasive wind, exposing your skin even further to the frost; not to say that otherwise it would do much to protect you from it.  

He takes an impatient grip of the back of your neck, the impact of his palm on your nape loud enough to emit a smack. He burrows his fingers into the fleshy bands of your tendons, driving you ruthlessly you towards the exit. Holds you upright by the neck like trapped game as you stumble over your bare feet.  

“Move.”  

You didn’t expect to be gracious of the sack the dog had secured over your head.  

Your unstable breathing warms your cheeks, the hot vapour of your adrenaline pumping from your lungs is trapped in by the thick black cotton, preventing the membranes of your nostrils freezing solid.  

The vice like grip of your hunter has not faltered, dragging you by the neck down the winding stone steps of your estate – the slabs free of snow by virtue of the heated coils beneath them, a renovation you yourself had requested. Of course, your husband had obliged. 

But your abductor isn’t steering you down your driveway, it seems, as you are instead led off the path.  

A gasping shriek jumps from your throat as your feet touch the layer of powder, snow packing between your toes; the frost immediately burns the soles as though you tread over shattered glass.  

“Where are we going,” you question through a clenched jaw, chattering with the cold, having to push your weak voice out of your seizing diaphragm. 

As you had anticipated, he says nothing. 

Stays dead silent, the peculiar beast.  

You’re frightened of him. Suddenly unconfident in your attempts to read him.  

It’s typically your strongest talent, a perfectly honed skill – reading men.  

Every one of them like a children’s book, predilections and intentions so blatant that they may as well have been scribbled in crayon. They believe wholeheartedly that they are mysterious, too cunning to be understood, so mistaken in their conceit; expecting that you as a mere woman are simply unable to comprehend them. 

Yet you have made a craft of determining what makes each one tick. Disassembling them like the gears and screws of a clock, surveying their quirks and components through your looking glass.  

Once reduced to their basic constituents, their most primordial parts, they are all the same. Always want the same thing. Always boil down to the same creature.  

Dogs. 

You’ve gotten good at baiting them. Leashing them. Taming them.  

This one is guarded. Keeps his teeth bared, keeps you guessing when he might maul you.  

So far, the only quirk of this one that you been able to deduce is that he wants you to be scared of him. Doing his best to terrorise you with his threats while enacting none of them.  

If he wanted to hurt you, or rape you, or kill you, countless opportunities to do so have been presented to him. You’ve been offered up to him so freely you may as well have been gifted to him wrapped in a bow.  

And yet, he hasn’t unwrapped you.  

That’s where your scrutiny has failed you. Like static distorting a radio signal.  

He provides you no tells. Tips no hand.  

He continues to act as though he is yet to impart his worst upon you. Vague about his intentions with you, in spite of his wandering eye. At least that is consistent with what you would expect from any of the dogs you have so far encountered. Acts too good, too moral, too chaste to take you; yet still gropes and licks and fingers and fucks you with his wanton glower. All the same.  

His claws cut deep into the cartilage of your neck as though he might hang you from it, unaffected by your whimpers nor your looming hypothermia. You feel it sinking beneath your skin. Freezes your nerves, turns the blood in your arteries into icy sludge, sends your muscles into irrepressible spasms. Your lungs ache, forced to suck down the very air that will inevitably freeze them solid.  

You gasp as you feel your knees knock against something solid; the dull ring of thick metal. 

His talons release your neck, finally, though you find yourself immediately longing for the warmth of his grip – the nape of your neck prickling with gooseflesh as it’s bitten by the frigid cold. 

Quick to thwart your opportunity at freedom, he takes prompt hold of you, gloved hands shoving past your foil cape and tucking under your arms. You squeak as you are lifted, uncertain how high off the ground you might be, though grateful that your frozen feet are finally free from their bed of snow.  

You’re lowered, then, your feet and ankles quickly parted by whatever frosty metal is now beneath you – then he drops you, and you land on your pelvis with a sore thud, abruptly bestriding whatever vehicle it must be. A snowmobile, you suspect.  

You feel him mount the vehicle behind you, his form hulking even when you can’t see it. You feel his breathing through the fabric on the top of your head. Heaving thighs on either side of you, you’re nestled between them. He even tugs you back with an arm hooked around your stomach, so you’re pressed more firmly against him, prevented from wriggling free. A couple fewer layers of gear and his body heat might even bring you comfort.  

Through his touch alone he seems unbothered by your proximity, by the pressure of your ass against his crotch. Not lascivious, though not disquieted. Steals no grabs, no rogue touches of any of your more intimate parts – though you’re not daft enough to assume he would shy away from it.  

You can feel the fleshy mass behind his trousers despite the thickness of the weatherproof fabric. Formidable even soft.  

Perhaps you could tempt him.  

With just a shimmy, an innocent readjustment of your ass between his legs – you offer just a touch more pressure. You might bump against him while he rides through the snow, might feel that pliable weight turn rigid against your back.  

You admit that he doesn’t seem the type to offer you special treatment if you offered your cunt to him. He’s made it known that he thinks you’re a slut, after all. In your experience, though, it works in your favour most of the time. Where’s the harm in trying?

But you feel the fabric of your sack hood twitch and quiver as his head lowers beside yours, he growls into your ear; 

“That’s not gonna help you.”  

Fine. Whatever. 

Worth a shot. 

It sounded as though he had uttered it through a grin; a very slight, near imperceptible drip of amusement in his malicious tone.  

But, with your hands bound, near naked, and blinded, your survival is dependent on him. Rather, it's entirely up to him.  

So you play it cool.  

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sheepishly respond, sweet and naïve, you get back into character. 

He huffs derisively, impatiently, perhaps. You let his arms envelop you as they reach for what must be the handles of the snowmobile in front of you, quickly deafened by the roar of the engine as he tugs on the throttle.  

Your body is abruptly forced backwards, tossed against him like a ragdoll as he suddenly accelerates - your fabric mask now provides you utterly no protection from the icy wind as it breaks through the weave. Your foil cape billows in the gale of his speed, rendering you entirely defenceless against the vicious knives of the cold as he speeds through the snow.   

Dropping your head, curling inwards on instinct, you find yourself nestling deeper into his shrouding form if only to shield yourself from the deathly cold he has purposefully exposed you to.  

After what feels like an agonising hour of having your bare skin dragged over a steel grater, you feel the snowmobile begin to decelerate, its roaring engine growing quieter and eventually grunting to a stop.   

You had thought you might be granted a reprieve from the painful gusting wind once the mobile finally came to a halt; but you’re still in a whirlwind of ice and glass, so disoriented you feel as though you’ve been spun on your heel and then cast out into the barren wilderness to find your own way.  

In the malevolent hurricane you lose your grip on your foil blanket, your only respite, it flies off into the ambiguous void of black forced upon you by your hood.  

But that mechanical thunder is unmistakable – an aircraft you were well acquainted with. A helicopter.  

A transport you frequented in your days of luxury, often to your warmer getaway home further south. To your Petit Trianon, another gift from your husband – one that acted as a clear means of getting rid of you for weeks at a time. Not that you complained. 

The begrudging protection of your hunter is stolen from you as he dismounts, leaving you utterly exposed to the blizzard, shivering with such intensity that your muscles burn with the acid they involuntarily excrete.  

But you’re quickly hauled off the vehicle, gloved grip under your arms once again, picked up with ease as you feel your body get tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour. His thick arm hooks over your hip, you feel the veil of your babydoll flutter up and expose your bare ass to the icy gale - it humiliates you as if spanking you with its frozen hand.  

You hear the metallic rumble of a rolling door amidst the bellow of the rotating blades. 

“’Bout fuckin’ time.” The irate roar of a new man.  

You bounce on the shoulder in your stomach as you are carried within, listening as the door is slammed shut. After a few steps you are unceremoniously dropped onto a seat, a weak yelp escapes you at the pain of the impact.  

“Jesus fucking Christ, LT.” Yet another. Scottish.  

LT. Lieutenant? Military?  

Blind and defenceless, you stay seated but adjust yourself so that you sit upright, exerting every effort to catch your breath and steady your chattering bones. But despite effort, your body rolls around in its seat as the helicopter presumably begins its wobbly ascent.  

“What?” Your hunter growls.  

“Couldn’t give her a jacket?”  

“Why the fuck would I do that.”  

“It’s negative fifteen out there. Look at her, she’s just about blue.”  

“Mm. Maybe I should’ve given her the chance to pick out her favourite mink coat, eh?”  

You hear a huff of laughter from another man. “You just wanted to keep her in her knickers.” 

“Mh. Might loosen up her husband.”  

A chortle. “Could loosen up anybody.”  

Dogs. 

You stay silent and listen shrewdly.  

“Bravo Six to Gold Eagle Actual – double jackpot. We’re RTB.”  

Military, you are now certain. You can tell by the codeword gibberish without needing to understand it. You wish now that you had watched enough Western war movies to be able to translate it – but they’re all banned in Russia, of course.  

There’s a quiet murmur of a static-ridden voice emerging from a radio, but it is drowned out by the humming of the helicopter. 

“Fuck’d you do to Zakhaev?” Your hunter asks, throaty voice almost taunting. 

Your husband. Was he in the aircraft with you? Could you call for him?  

“Squealed like a pig when he came to. Knocked him out again.” The Scotsman. 

But, in spite of your effort to distinguish them, the unfamiliar voices quickly begin to blur together.  

“Tracks.”  

“Separate them before he wakes up.”  

“Why?” A new voice.  

“Can’t have him knowing that we’ve got her already. We need to surprise him with it.”  

“Kinda fucked up, Cap.”  

“Ts’all in a days work, Sergeant.”  

Captain. Sergeant. British Army? Airforce?  

There’s a few moments of silence, you shuffle disquietly in your seat. Oh, if only you could see what was happening. It was already hard enough to hear them over the roaring of the chopper. Deaf, dumb, and blind. 

“Christ, she’s a looker, though, isn’t she?” The Sergeant.  

A chuckle follows from the Scotsman. “Can’t even see her face, mate.”  

“Don’t need to.”  

“Never know. Could be all botched by filler and botox and shite. All those fuckin’ oligarchs are.”  

“Mm. Nah. I’ve seen the photos.”  

“Take a long hard look at ‘em, did ye?”  

“Definitely hard. Dunno about long.”  

A laugh. “You nasty fucker.”  

Dogs. 

You’re even further discomforted by the fact that your hunter knows you can understand every single word that these men are uttering around you. And, evidently, feels no need to inform his comrades that you know exactly what they are saying about you.  

He wants you to feel uncomfortable.  

He wants you nervous.  

You hear the thud of boots against the metal floor, uncertain of whose nor which direction they are coming from, though they approach you. You shrivel on instinct, curling in on yourself to hide your near-nudity from whichever of the lecherous men is standing before you. 

You jump, squeaking in fright as something heavy is tossed around your shoulders. Fabric. Wool, judging by the thickness and scratchiness of it; you use your bound hands to grab at the edges of it to blanket yourself, finally able to conceal your body from them.  

“Согрейтесь.” Warm yourself up.  

The Captain, if you remember his rumbling cadence correctly. 

“You’re too soft, Cap. She’s a prisoner of war not a fuckin’ damsel.” Your hunter.  

The man who had given you the blanket addresses him. “We need her alive, don’t we? I’m keeping her alive.”  

“Fuck’s sake. She’ll be fine.”  

The charitable one speaks to you again, voice low and close, as though he has bent down intending for only you to hear it.  

“Он ничего тебе не сделал, да?” He didn’t do anything to you, did he? 

“Oh, piss off. Who do you think I am?” Your abductor immediately disputes, having apparently overheard.   

You consider your options. Maybe this captain could take pity on you, if you played your cards right. You can deduce his type through his words and actions already. Nobleman. White knight. It’s a façade, of course. If he’s a captain as the others say, he has probably orchestrated this entire operation.  

Though, inexplicably, you decide honesty is your safest course. You want an ally out of your hunter.  

“Нет, он меня не трогал.” No, he didn’t touch me. 

“Told you.” Your hunter grunts.  

A laboured sigh follows from the captain. “I never know with you, Riley.”  

He scoffs disdainfully.  

Leaves an ugly silence.  

“I’m not an animal.”