#ah yes it's digging its teeth in

[cowboycatd]

ava with an alolan raichu send post.

[screampied]

Omg hi can I request like a loving, cozy, domestic pronebone with Suguru?? Like he’s just like “shh be quiet Satoru is in the room next door we can’t wake him up” while pressing adoring kisses to the back of your neck omg😵‍💫

trying to keep quiet with suguru ★

cw. fem! reader, prone bone, unprotected, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise

“. . . shhhh,” he’d shush against the corner of your ear, presenting you deep low strokes. a winded gasp wretches from your throat as a palm of geto’s glues against your mouth. he’s so deep, a free hand of his ghosts against the backsides of your spine. an eye roll overtakes your pupils as he’s giving you such righteous hits against your yawning core. geto’s weight just narrowly hovers over you as he’s pressed right up against you, spit slicked lips of yours gnaw and gnash together before you whine again. “gotta be quiet sweetheart. unless you want ‘toru to hear us. you want him to hear how sloppy you are f’me, hm?”

craning your head slowly, you shake a sweet little no and he chuckles, a kiss going against the crown of your head. “so cute,” he purrs in a husky tone, a hand of his gripping against the very edges of your arced hips. fingertips of his dance alongside the very curvature of your body — he takes pride in the way your body responds to him. you’re flinging back and forth, forward against the screeching mattress. geto’s skin, coated with a sweetened sheet of sweat sticks against your own m with each ruthless thrust. “ugh, h-hey, are you licking my palm? mhm, such a filthy girl.”

you were,

with the flatness of your tongue, it lathers against the very center of geto’s palm — tasting the insipid areas of his hand. it follows the creasing flexion lines that runs against his skin.

not before long, you dig your teeth into his hand as your muffled moans vibrate against his luscious tasting flesh. “ah, let me guess. you wanna suck on my fingers too, baby?”

“mmf, y- yes,” you whine as he momentarily departs his hand away. a nice trail of spit looks almost adhesive, its stickiness pastes against his hand as he pries his hand away from your wet mouth. geto’s sharpened hips still deeply drilling into you in the background. your loving hole flutters as you’re just vigorously being pounded beneath the sheets, each wheezing gasp that snatches from your lungs feels like it’s going to be its last. “pleaseee.”

“my pretty girl,” he whispers, the head of his cock never refusing to hit the right angle. with an easy direction of his fingers attaching to your hips, he makes you raise your torso upward to reach more bottomless areas. oh, your mouth forms into the letter ‘o’ at the way he’s stuffing you full of shaft. it’s almost mouth watering,

it is mouth watering.

as you bury your head into the crook of your elbow, geto leans in to place a few kisses near the indenting lines of your back. “look at this gorgeous body,” he purrs, his hips ultimately slowing its maddened pace down — yet despite his tempo suddenly losing its quickened haste, geto’s chest deflates. as he’s leaning up closer to you, his ravened locks of his dance graze up your shoulders as he moves.

back and forth, back and forth,

his rhythm was purely enticing. your jaw aches a bit from how it’s just idly hanging open before he showers you with more delicate kisses.

this time near your neck.

geto’s slow and precise. he starts by your nape, a tongue gradually rolling out to get a taste of your saline, salty skin.

“can never get enough of your taste, fuck,” he murmurs, you’re still plugged in with a good amount of his dick. geto’s so full, swollen rotund balls of his continues to cuff and cuff and cuff against your slick pussy. your ears knell from the never ending paps your own arousal sings as a response. “open wide, baby. get my fingers wet.”

not even seconds later, your lips happily part in preparation for geto to stuff his thickened fingers into your drooling mouth. he grins, already telling how eager you were—milliseconds leisurely passes by and you’re already relishing in the taste of two of his digits curling inside of your mouth.

“thaaat’s it, get it wet ‘cause i want a taste too when you’re done.”

your long lashes flutter against your own eyes as geto starts to pick up his pace again. his other hand still grips onto your waist as he feels your ass writhe against him. fuck, he’s getting closer and closer by the second. geto groans from how you stick against him — he’s already given you a sweet velvety load already. obsidian-black irises of his leer down at the lewd scene at bay. you’re trying to keep up with his pace, but his girth. the wide end stretch alone has you hearing plethora amounts of fuzz pour out of your ears. “s-shit, you’re so perfect arched over for me, sweets..”

with a tongue still lolling around, you merely prevent yourself from gagging once you feel the tips of his digits prod against the very roof of your mouth. just a few inches away from your uvula, a sheeny trail of saliva starts to dribble down your chin before he leans in to kiss you more against your neck.

geto even creates a little trail of kisses . .

numerous times, the warmth of his lips makes your cunt twitch up in total desperation.

trying your best to stay quiet, a loud roaring whimper tugs out of your throat at the head of his cock thwacks repeatedly against your g-spot. you gasp, two fingers of his falling out of your mouth before you’re just pornographically moaning again and again. “f- fuck, right there sugu. hngh.”

“this spot, yeah i know pretty,” and he’s heaving right with you. the undersides of the bed resumes to grate and screech in harmony. he pauses for a bit, popping his own two wet fingers into his mouth. he hums at your taste, relishing in it entirely. so sweet. as geto’s body lingers over you, your ass continuously rebounds against his. a sharp throaty rasp slides out of his lips and he hisses. “gonna cum, f-fuck, ‘m gonna stuff you so full again.”

“i- inside, sugu,” you whine as he gently delves his teeth into the left juncture of your collarbone. it was all exposed—he couldn’t help but leave a little piercing mark from his pearly white canines. geto loves getting carried away and smothers your entire skin with his own homemade moist, needy kisses. airy hot breath collides against your skin, sending you various shivers before you feel your pussy throb. it’s throbbing only divides and multiplies. he hits you in every angle, the curve of his dick ruptures through you and you moan as you feel the arch in your back perk upward. “don’t miss, wan’ it s’bad, want you.”

“i want you too,” he huffs, though with a deep voice — his voice sounds a bit shaky, a bit needy..

maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you were almost positive geto just whined for you. you had him so sensitive, his jaw tightens as he continues to ram his fat cock into your compressing, dense walls.

the bed’s sobbing from the hefty weight wringing against the furniture. the same creaking sensations reverbs throughout your ears and the room itself before within seconds. he’s dumping yet another oozy load into you.

with a sleazy wry grin, geto toots your hips up and he starts to grind against you.

your head’s pressing against the silky reddened crimson sheets before you grow quiet. huffs and puffs were the only noises that could be heard, as well as geto’s whimpering that subsides as he starts to finish his longing high. “god, you always know how to m-milk the shit out of me,” he hoarsely titters, wrapping a good amount of fingers around his twitching shaft. geto fists his cock as he’s still gushing a sizable portion of cum into your rapacious hole. still being a tease, you rub up against his lap as you’re still bent over, feeling his hands trail against the very curvature areas your ass. “huh, want more, do ya?”

“don’t stop, sugu,” you mewl out in a desperate plea, craving for more of his seed. it trickles down between your thighs, leaving you so sticky, a mess.

his mess,

geto can’t help but smear the fat of his thumb over your emitting entrance. the print of his finger ghosts against your gooey slit.

the gooey warm cum that streams down and outside your slit makes him groan. “i’ll never stop, baby. y-you can milk me for as much as you’d like,” he pants, preparing to realign himself again. “now let me,” he pants, the entirety of his lungs inhaling air from each second. his lips press against your neck for a final time before he whispers. “let me love you, baby. bend back over f’me, ‘m not done with this gorgeous body yet.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the beginning

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pretty fluffy and cute tho, male masturbation, kinda creeping on reader by masturbating to pics of her?, p in v sex, brief male receiving handjob, unprotected sex, a bunch of different scenes with time gaps this isnt one continuous fic if that makes sense?

“your bikini is so cute.” you tell your friend, looking at your own swimsuit in the mirror.

“i have another one in a different color, you wanna borrow it?” julie offers.

“girl, yes!” you squeal as she digs through her closet before tossing the small material to you. you were invited on rafe camerons boat, and while you chose your best swimsuit, you just moved to the outer banks from new york city and don’t have a ton of options.

you put the swimsuit on before standing next to your friend. “we look good.” you nod.

“damn girl, the boys are gonna be all over you.” “hopefully including rafe.” you say, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. it didn’t take you long to learn that rafe was the it boy of the outer banks, the kook prince, and that all the girls wanted him. you didn’t get the hype until you met him at a party and instantly became attracted.

“there’s no way he’s gonna be able to keep his eye of you.” julie encourages you, before glancing at her phone. “we better get going.”

you nod, looking one last time in the mirror before putting your coverup on and following julie out of her room.

--

“hey rafe.” you smile at him, letting him sling his arm around your shoulder. you’ve been flirting a lot, its how you got invited onto his boat along with a few other friends, but you haven’t progressed past just talking.

“hey.” rafe tugs you into him, making you press against his shirtless torso, in just his swim shorts. “wanna come up and drive with me?”

“yeah.” you nod, briefly looking to julie to make sure she was good, but she's already twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at kelce.

you follow rafe up to the stairs to the second story of the yacht where the captains helm is. you sit next to him on the bench as he steers the boat out of the marina. 

“this is a really nice boat.” you comment. “maybe you should give some advice to my parents on what to buy, my dad is looking but has no clue what is good.” you say without thinking, before cringing at your words, worrying rafe might mistake your small talk as wanting him to meet your parents.

“ah yeah, didn’t have much opportunities to own a yacht in new york, huh?” rafes says as his arms move the wheel, making your attention shift to his muscles.

“nope.” you shake your head. “but i’m glad we moved, i love the city but its really nice to be somewhere… calmer.”

“i’m glad you moved too.” rafe says with a smile, making you blush as you nod at him. you manage to make the small talk not overly awkward as he drives the boat out towards the ocean before finding a place to drop anchor and hang out for a bit.

“wanna swim?” rafe asks as you both head down the stairs, rejoining the group.

“yeah.” you nod, pulling your coverup off over your head. you toss it onto a soft before turning to rafe, who is staring down at your body, blatantly checking you out as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

he doesn’t snap out of it until topper claps him on the shoulder. “i got the ladder in for us, man.”

“yeah, yeah thanks.” rafe nods, eyes finally flicking up to meet yours.

“y/n! jump in with me!” julie calls.

“lets go?” you tilt your head, looking to rafe.

“wait before you jump in i want to get a picture of everyone.” rafe shouts out, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to topper. “you'll take it?”

“yeah, sure.” topper says, looking at his friend a little strangely.

you all group together on the front deck, rafe moving so you’re in the center, his arm around your waist as you smile at the camera. you change your pose a couple times as topper continues to snap pictures, including turning towards rafe and placing your hand on his abs, still grinning as you pose.

rafe eyes up topper as he leans and picks you up, topper getting the message to record as you let out a shriek, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulder as he hurdles towards the water before jumping off the back deck, sending a spray of water as you let go of him and swim towards the surface.

you push the hair out of your face before sending a splash in rafes direction, scrunching your brows to show your anger at getting tossed in, but you can’t help the smile that stretches over your cheeks.

--

rafe gives you a tight hug, not caring that your hair is still wet and smelling of salt water. “i had fun today.”

“i did too.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” rafe questions.

“why, wanna take me on a date?” you ask, biting your lip as your eyes glance between his eyes and his lips.

“and what if i do?” rafe smirks.

“then i’m definitely free.” 

“pick you up at 6:30 then.” rafe says, pulling you against him again before letting you go, watching you get into julies car.

--

“fuck.” rafe groans, hips thrusting forward as he fucks his fist, phone pulled open to the pictures he had topper took. he doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, he cropped everyone out but you, in your tiny lilac bikini.

rafe groans, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut as he squeezes the head of his dick, imagining it was you instead, either your mouth on him or you spread out below him, moaning as he fucks into your cunt.

rafe thinks about texting you, about begging you to come over, but he remembers your date tomorrow, knows what is going to happen after if things go well. he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, but you’re too pretty, too enticing as he swipes to the next photo, the photo of you turned to the side, hand on his bare abdomen.

he looks at the curve of your ass, the way the bikini hugs your hips. rafe strokes faster, imagining his hand making impact with your bum, watching the skin ripple.

“y/n.” rafe groans out your name as he cums, releasing over his stomach as he squeezes himself until he’s satisfied, smiling as he swipes again, this time to the video of him picking you up and running into the water.

--

“this is easily the best first date i’ve ever had.” you say as rafe drives you home. it was surprisingly simple, a picnic on the beach all set up by rafe, and then some live music on the pier.

“mine too.” rafe says, placing a cautious hand on your thigh, relieved when you smile at him.

“you know…” you begin as rafe pulls up to your door. “my parents are back in new york this weekend.”

“really?” rafe hums, bringing the car up the driveway.

“if you’d like to come in for some… tea.” 

“tea, sure.” rafe nods, turning his truck off.

you move quickly inside. while you made up the tea excuse to get him in, you both know what the intentions are as rafe presses you against the wall of the entrance as soon as the door swings shut behind you, his lips meeting yours.

--

“good morning.” you mumble, turning over in rafes arms, both still naked from the night before.

“morning.” rafe says, his voice gruff from just waking. he moves a hand to your hair, brushing it out of your face. “you look beautiful.”

“not too bad yourself.” you smile, pressing your lips against rafes.

the kiss instantly wakes him up as his hand moves to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he turns so he’s over top of your body, your hair flared out on the pillow.

you smirk into the kiss when you can feel rafe growing against your stomach. you reach down with one hand, grasping his shoulder to keep him close and kissing you with the other while you stroke his cock, getting it to full hardness quickly.

“when are your parents home?” rafe asks suddenly when he pulls away.

“um-” your brain briefly doesn’t work at the randomness of the question. “monday evening.” “i say-” rafe says, reaching down and grasping his cock, pushing your hand out of the way as he rubs the head of his cock through your pussy. “we spent the entire weekend in bed then.”

you gasp as rafe thrusts into you, filling your cunt in one swoop. “sounds good to me.” you say, before pulling him back into a kiss.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary

[moyazaika]

indulgence.

m! yandere x gn! reader / nsfw; shadows, phantom limbs, tongues, a degree of infantilisation. stalking && obsessive thoughts. ( mdni. )

beware; for here there be monsters, and this one is hungry.

“oh, there you are, sweetheart,” he drawls, and you feel something wet and slithering against the hollow of your throat, over the drool on your slack jaw and right up to your swollen lips, which part for him in silent submission. “you taste delicious. far sweeter than any cloying nectar.”

“i think i might just…” your back arches against the soft tablecloth he has you laid over, flushed skin slotting up right against an abyss; shivering against the yawning chasm of his own body (could you call it that?) which threatens to devour you whole. through the darkness, you can make out the shape of a man barely-there. pathetic glimpses of the features of your generous host.

“yes…” two more tongues, you miraculously manage to count through the daze of your poor, confused mind—squirming helplessly under the wet muscle as it licks the tears that well up in your eyes, whilst simultaneously lingering at your belly button, moving lower and lower—a hum, “i think i might just eat you from the inside out.”

“ah!” your hips buckle. it’s something cold, and slimy. invasive in its nature, as it slips over and under your slick skin, pulsing with need. “please, please, please.” the string of pathetic pleas leaves your bruised lips like a chant. “please, please!”

and your host, who had let you in so graciously when you showed up at the door of his crumbling manor, lost and in need of shelter, has always been nothing but generous. phantom lips brush against the shell of your ear, as he promises to take such good care of a sweet, lovely, needy human like you—

“sing for me, songbird.”

—and, you do.

the loveliest little sounds just for him, for the cold, wispy touch that digs into the plush of your thighs, holds down your arms so you’re rendered completely helpless to him (it, you remind yourself. this is no mere man) as he paws at your heaving chest, kneading and pulling and pinching. a sort of detached awe. fascination for how humans can be so soft and pliable.

“how utterly adorable.” unblinking eyes look down at you, truly a feast the way you’re laid down on his expansive dining table like one. an unwavering gaze through long, dark lashes, against impossibly cold skin. “you’re so helpless, spread out like this on my table. you should know you’re also incredibly lucky, sweetness.”

“oh, so very lucky,” he grins, flickering before your eyes, shadows lurking beneath the stolen skin that’s wrapped over weary, ancient bones. those lips of his, curling into a crooked grin. “that i only want to take good care of my little human guest. lucky—” you gasp when his nails, sharper than they were only a second ago, scrape and claw and dig into the most sensitive parts of your quivering body. “—that i’m not some big. bad. monster.”

the simulacrum of a man—his facade falls apart at the seams as he has you coming on fingers and tongues with no solid state; shadows that leave you gasping through the wisps that tickle your sensitive skin, against a hand, the lithe shadowy digits willing (eager, even) to pull you past the brink you’ve been teetering on for the past hour; an act of mercy, that has you twitching in all the right places—and coming, with a long, petulant whine, incredibly and completely undone over the palms of his cold, cold hands.

“yes; you’re quite lucky,” he hums pleasantly, when the cold shadows curl against your ankles only mere minutes later, to pull them over his broad shoulders; now solid, like the sharp, greedy teeth that sink into the swell of your chest. his eyes flicker to meet yours, as he bites down. “that i love you.”

†

hours later, when you make to leave, thanking him profusely for his generosity, for allowing you a safe place to stay and… taking such good care of you; a lost traveller, in more ways than one; you fail to notice something important.

it comes as no surprise to your host, of course. you’re too soft to be left to your own devices. too sweet and darling.

it doesn’t dawn on you that your shadow is missing.

even as the sun sets, casting you in its dying glow, there is no trace of the shape of your constant silhouette that should be projected onto the forest floor. no mark of your existence, against the marvellous red sunset.

instead, your shadow is entirely separate. no longer attached to you, it follows behind instead, curling around the thick trunks of trees and slinking across the mossy forest floor; following close behind you, stepping right into every step you take, but never quite passing by; and when you find yourself lost, inevitably, it will return back to the crumbling manor you were in only hours before.

it will phase right through the main grand doors and the walls with their old, cracked paint; right besides the being who ordered it to follow you in the first place. a pleased smile on familiar lips, when he’s told the news, rejoicing in the act of ignorance; like he didn’t already know your exact whereabouts in his own domain, “oh, is my little human lost again?”

“very well,” he’ll make a show of sighing, though there is no attempt to mask the glee in his gleaming eyes. “i suppose i’ll have to find them, again. hm, it looks like i shouldn’t have let my pretty songbird fly away so soon.”

rest assured, he doesn’t intend to make the same mistake twice.

he’ll pull on a coat, then. not because he needs it, but because he’ll drape it over your shaking shoulders when he stumbles upon you, once again, ‘completely by chance.’ sweet, helpless thing like you, clinging to him in the darkness of the forest.

he descends the steps of his crumbling manor, shadows parting with every step he takes, a darkness swirling restlessly underneath cold, taut skin. he whistles a merry tune, itching to get all of his hands and tongues all over you again; driven by an insatiable hunger.

and this time, when he finds you (and he will; for there is no way you can outrun your own shadow) he intends to have his fill.

he will gorge himself, like a man long starved, on the feast that you are. oh, you’ll be dribbling down his chin and smeared all over his jaw as he works to drink you dry, and he’ll lick up every last drop. this time, the abyss doesn’t intend to let you go. you will stare into the yawning darkness and lose yourself, just as he has lost himself in you.

humans are often told not to play with their food, he recalls—

—it is a lovely thing, then, he supposes, that he was never human.

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “YOU REALLY ARE A FREAK . . . KYLAR .”

promise he didn’t mean to stupidly jack off to you , it was just hormonal urges acting up, yeah.

Fuck, underneath this thin layer of pure impulsivity, he’s undeniably aware that he should’ve stopped things here the second it escalated— Hastily shut off the cheaply recorded clips hazily shown back towards him by the dimly lit monitoring of his screen. He had his tell-tale suspicions secretly simmering deep within, yeah, lil’ freak here knew you weren’t necessarily the most loyal of people ‘round town. Didn’t mean his skittish eyes to instinctively seek yours out in a crowded room, hidden amongst the numerous people he’d usually glance over in bare disinterest when in search for your own recognizable frame. A harmless crush, he’d initially call it to soothe the lurking urges annoyingly gnawing at the back of his mind, repeatedly whispering to him the instinctual need to fervently possess you further, sweetly leave his fair share of littered marks all around your unblemished skin so that the town may notably take notice of your cherished bond.

Still, this is— this is so fuckin’ unfair, y’know?? How dare you merely prove your brazen disloyalty to him time and time again and here he is, curled fist stubbornly snug around his leaking cock, tacky globs of pre-cum profusely dribbling out of his swollen slit as if he’s not crudely getting off to the sight of you— you, fucking getting your whorish boy hole ruined by another person. Desperate bucks of his hips, jeans carelessly slung down to his ankles below, rest of his sticky with cum underwear probably thrown somewhere along the scattered mess in his room. It’s sick, downright vile and he knows it, but fuck— it has started off with a familiar scowl making its way past his normally soft features when faced with your usually placate room devoid of anyone else but his watchful eyes carefully taking in the sight of your snoozing frame comfortably tucked away under the woollen covers.

Except, you’re not truly alone and ah, here goes.. Robin? Seamlessly sneaking himself into your room instead, not him, but that fucking friend of yours constantly sticking to your sides at school, outside of there too — yes, he’s checked, no he’s not a creep for it! — Affectionately nosing along the crook of your neck, muttering out wistful words, he, himself cannot possibly hope to discern considering his— well, namely cheap equipment he has to forcibly deal with, here. Subtle brush of your best friend’s palm sneakily disappearing underneath the thick blanket, though he can barely make out the outline of his hand dizzyingly slipping its way past your boxers, probably.. hah, feeling your cute cock up, sticky mess pervertedly staining the material already. The little, heated sighs collectively tumbling forth from both of your lips, discreetly obscured within the dark corners of your narrow room shouldn’t be affecting him this much. Yet, it is as proven by the burning flush heating his cheeks, teeth instinctively digging into the rosy flesh of his bottom lip. Inwardly seething at the pure display of love intimately being shown to him — without your aforementioned knowledge too, by the way — and that his cock itself is painfully reacting to it, stupidly tented against the front of his ripped jeans, craning his neck closer as if it might magically allow him to see your movements beneath.

Don’t need to wait all that long for it since you decisively do the honours for him of course, or unfortunately Robin here, whose hands and lips are busying themselves all over your originally untouched body. Supple fingertips coyly caressing rhythmic circles along your hips, thumb lovingly circling around the edge of your hot, drooling tip freed out in the air. Relishing in the hitched gasps, slightest shivers of your curled frame snugly pressed against his, adorably pleading for more with a needy whine of his name. A name, name that should be Kylar’s — not his. Repressed freak frustratingly chewing at his chipped nails, gaze not leaving your glazed over eyes for the briefest of seconds in favour of freeing his fat, throbbing cock from the tight of confines of his pants. It’s— It’s not bad! He’s just helping himself because at the end of the day, he’s nothing but a man too, just like you. A pathetic loser who’s wracked in a mess, stupidly fisting his cock at the bare sight of your figure being sinfully defiled by your best friend hidden beneath the haphazardly spread sheets. Swollen, pink nipples shown out in the cooling air for his eyes to breathlessly take in, soon also taken by Robin’s mouth hungrily latching onto one of them. Audibly suckling on the perky buds with noisy sucks, relishing in the muted gasps gradually being drawn out of you. Noticeable scrunch of your face, timid grasp finding its way entangled along the soft strands of your best friend’s hair in a shy mewl for more cuz’ shit, it must feel good, right?

He could make you feel way better than that, promise! Though that’s the very last repetitive protest on his blurring mind, dumbly shut off as he jerks himself off. Slippery slides of his palm gliding along his cum coated length in an audible squelch!, rhythmic up-and-down motion of fisting his cock raw against his palm, furiously humping upwards in time with each controlled thrust of Robin on the other end. Hah, wonder what you’d do if you truthfully knew what he’s currently doing, how that precious owl toy gifted to you on that faithful day wasn’t for innocent intentions and all that, wasn’t to kindly look over you to make sure you’re always at ease. He means, it is! But, not necessarily that, no— in fact, it’s for opportunities like this. Like a pervert, he’s shamelessly getting off to your tight, little fucking hole being stuffed full of your best friend’s fat cock, bobbing dick cutely swaying between the tantalizing spreading of your thighs. Legs deftly locked around Robin’s hips in a tentative beg to keep going! and feels so fuckin’ good! and oh, how he wishes he was the one stupidly balls deep inside of you. Subtle arch of your back, peppered kisses being repeatedly planted against your pouty lips, lolling tongue and rolling eyes and fuuuckkk—- it’s the second you make immediate contact with him, maybe not out of purpose. No, definitely not, but the split second of eye contact you both share, slightest flicker of your gaze settling upon the owl who’s flickering camera is blinking back, recording this all — that has his hips stuttering, head impulsively thrown back and whiny moans hurriedly spilling past his open lips as hot spurts of his sticky seed spurt out of his cock and into the air. Stiffening limbs wracked with his orgasm, quivering legs sat atop his creaking chair all the while milking every last drop of his cock, till it uselessly dribbles out in pitiful droplets onto the ground.

Ah, look at the effects you have on him that he embarrassingly enough, cums so quickly from a mere glance of your eyes in his direction. And really, how he should be properly blaming you for the coated mess on his wooden floorboards which he should be currently cleaning right about now, lest his parents find out again. Truly, he should probably go and.. grab a wet rag now.

..And some tissues for later.

[sweetimpurity]

Miguel pulling off your lingerie. Maybe it's your anniversary, his birthday, your wedding night. But it's something special. And he thinks you look like an angel. An angel he wants to ruin. He pulls the lace down your soft warm thighs, pulling the soft mesh over your skin. Then his big hands rest on your knees, spreading your legs with his eyes locked on your glistening heat. For only him to play with, to fill, to soothe, to devour.

Or he'll pull it off with his teeth, warming you up, kissing down your tummy, kissing your hips, your pelvic bones until he's leaving kisses inside your thighs. Getting closer to your aching core. Your fingers in his hair as he teases, threatens you with the promise of sweet release. Eventually.

His face dips between your thighs, planting kisses along the lace covering your perfection. The heat and scent of your arousal filling his senses. Kissing your clit through the fabric, his tongue pressing flat and licking up your clothed slit until his sharp canines prick into the lace, latching on and pulling it back. Like an animal with its favorite plaything. His dark eyes lock onto yours as the panties slip down your thighs, his tongue tasting the fabric between his teeth. Resisting as his eyes want to roll back but he's determined to keep watching your pretty face. Flushed and already so fucked out. So needy. His pretty little bunny.

And when the panties are off, and you're thighs want to close in anticipation, he forces them open, looking you dead in the eyes and delving into your pussy, open mouth wet hot kisses at your core, spreading you with his tongue and slurping naughtily like he's never tasted anything so sweet before. When you squirm, his big hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you right onto his face, not letting you escape, not letting any space between his tongue and your needy hole. "Oh god..." You whine so softly only his sensitive ears could hear. "Oh yes yes yes..."

His growls and groans vibrate in your pussy, providing the most delicious friction and stimulation. "Fuck mami... nunca puedo tener... suficiente de ti..." He mumbles into your heat, his head squeezed between your trembling thighs. Eating you out, drinking you in. "Dios... ah... bella baby..." He gasps for breath, pulling away to breathe although any amount of time not buried in your heat is pure torture.

"Hah... you taste so good baby..." He pants before your fingers tighten in his hair, forcing his face back in. Back into your heat, pressing your thighs together, crossing your legs around his back and hearing him groan and moan, all muffled by your supple flushed flesh. His fingers digging into your hips, sucking and sloshing at your slick. Until he's out of all breath and you're screaming his name.

[conelluwrites]

the red means i love you

Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)

posted on my AO3

word count: 2.6k

title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking

You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.

“Mmm…”  The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?”  His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings.  His hair is just barely out of place.  Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.

“W-Wha-!”  The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist.  One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone.  Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room.  His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.

“Shhh, shhh…  There’s no reason for you to be afraid.”  He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck.  “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…”  His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries.  It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked.  “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want.  No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear.  Sounds pretty nice, hm?”  His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.

“But I gotta protect my neighbors.  My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.”  She says, her voice trembling.  Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.

“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.”  The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head.  He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist.  His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape.  There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human.  “But how many times have they let you down?  Surely they have failed you before.  People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone.  I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”

Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors.  “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”  The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have.  He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp.  If he wanted to maim her, he would have already.  “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling!  I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.”  The doppelgänger earnestly insists.  His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her.  “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours…  And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.”  He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers.  The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt.  “C’mon… please trust me.”

“But I-”  her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.

“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?”  He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans.  His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself.  “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”

She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face.  “My apartment is on the first floor.  We… We can go there together.  We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”

Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, “That sounds perfect.”  He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room.  The walk to the apartment is short.  As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space.  “Nice place.  So cozy…”

“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”

Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement.  After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone.  Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object.  “You’re so brave, you know.  C’mere.”

She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there.  The doppelgänger is taller than her.  Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing.  He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch.  He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings.  He drawings circles on his back with his free hand.  He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck.  Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck.  Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt.  Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away.  The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.

The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch.  If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion.  His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly.  “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”

“...”  She considers his words carefully.  Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can.  But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to.  She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck.  She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t.  “ I promise.”

“Good girl.”  He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck.  Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her.  His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair.  The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her.  “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”

“Oh?  Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.

Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck.  “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.”  With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening.  They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds.  With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool.  “Just relax, enjoy this moment.”  She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating.  “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly.  There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her.  Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound.  He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.

“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.

“Only for me to look at later.”  He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh.  The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away.  Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers.  “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest.  They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.”  She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.

“You should know more than that.”  He growls. “We could use your help some day.”

“We?  You want me to help the doppelgängers?”

“Of course.  Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out…  You could be helpful in our cause.”

“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest.  His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing.  “Though…”

“Though?  You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family.  Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”

“Mm.”  She weighs his words carefully.  In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet.  “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them.  Does that make us mates?”

“Indeed.”  Silence stretches between them for a moment.  “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.”  He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.

“Ah, like marriages for humans then?  Do you want to consummate our bond?”

The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing.  “Yes.  But we must proceed cautiously.”

“Why’s that, my love?  Is your genitalia that different?”  She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly.  The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.

“Hm…  No, not quite.”  There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities.  “Our release is also quite different, I believe.  Is that okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes.  I want to be your mate, so please…  mate with me the way doppelgängers do.”  Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph.  The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise.  The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform.  Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense.  His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips.  His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum.  He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.

“Lie back.”  He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger.  She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently.  There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head.  She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties.  His gaze is full of pride.  “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”

“You’re perfect.”  She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly.  Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth.  She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex.  The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size.  She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.

He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly.  “You’re tight.”  He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep.  The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.

“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected.  So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance.  “I was scared about the bars, but shit…  your cock is so perfect for me.”  The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.

“That’s it!  Take everything I got!”  He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips.  “Answer me, would you want children?”  He gasps urgently.  Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.

“I-I-!  Yes!  I want to swell with your young.”  She says lovingly, moaning.

He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips.  The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership.  “Perfect.”  He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him.  “Ride me until we’re done.”

She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt.  “Fuck, baby…”  She breathes out, her hands on his chest.  Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.

“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.”  He orders hoarsely.  He hisses as her cunt adjusts.  The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her.  His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.  

She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster.  “I-I-...”  Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence.  She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him.  Instead, she leans down to kiss him.  Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.

“Say it.  Tell me how much we mean to each other.”  He demands huskily.  His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second.  It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.

“I love you, fuck, I love you!”  She moans loudly.  Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock.  “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.”  She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him.  Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt.  His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him.  Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him.  Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen.  She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.

He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock.  He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest.  It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake.  “Our bond is sealed.”  He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.

[pedge-page]

Preggo wife Joel is the type of person who would pull out in the middle of sex and go down on her just to hear wife moan louder, I just know he would be f r e a k y af

notes: Let me tell you…all fluff and cuteness and humor aside, this man fucks like a beast. How else do you think she got knocked up?? Here’s what the man was like just days after finding out you were expecting. 

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Joel Miller - Husband, Father, Daddy

Warnings: unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral F receiving

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel’s got your waist pinned to the bed, rutting his cock into your soaked heat as your poor legs flail by his side. Harsh grunts leave his open mouth with each rut, his fingertips digging into your hips to imprint himself. You’ve cum three times now, not really having any other option but taking his thick length that has somehow made a very comfortable home inside your cunt, conformed to its hardened shape each time the tip punches your gummy walls.

“FUck baby look at ya, takin’ my cock s’deep,” he groans, pushing in all the way until his colliding with your cervix before grinding his pelvis flush against yours. "My pretty wife, all mineminemine."

“I can’t—Joel please,” you whine.

He starts thrusting again and you yelp, throwing your head back with silent cries of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes you can—took a baby in this pussy didn’t you? Fuckin’ bred ya, shit gonna look so good like a Mommy ohmygod.” He grins, nearly cumming at the thought of your tummy swelling so quickly. He keeps thinking it’s already showing, the little pudge making its way evident for the world to see. “Cum for me one more time, please baby need to hear it.”

You shake your head, covering your mouth.

He growls, pulling out and slapping your cunt hard. spankspank against your abused clit as he tosses your thighs up, presenting your slit to him. He latches his widened jaw to cover the entire area of your exposed core, humming into your sweet little pussy. your sticky arousal flows into his mouth, and he sucks every bit that tries to escape him. Eats you out like it’ll be the last thing he does. 

“Let it out,” he growls, flicking his tongue against your clit with little sucks. “Louder, scream it baby," he swats your sensitive nub again, "fuckin’ louder, I said!” His fingers plunge into your hole, twisting and slicking them up, expertly wringing you of your loud moans he all but deserves.

“Ah—ah yeah oh fuckyeah!! Yesyesyesyesohmygod Joel— Daddy please I’M—!” You body freezes in a vicious position, rolling your pussy further into his mouth as he works your orgasm over you. 

“That’s my girl.” He spanks your cunt once with a satisfied smirk, your whole body jolting from the impact before he’s forcing his cock into your tightened walls. "I'm fuckin' my wife's pussy so fuckin' good, she can't even speak."

Your eyes roll back to you skull as he sets a brutal pace again.

“Daddy’s home’s right here,” he moans.

You grip his bicep with the little clutch of sanity you have left, an erotic, delirious smile plastered on your face. He obsessively strokes your belly with his thumb. There's no intent to stop fucking you. That one more cum was total bullshit but who fucking cares, when he's claiming you so good. Despite your hoarse throat, you continue to let out desperate whimpers of encouragement for him. His tongue caught between his teeth with little snarls and pants, staring down at the spot where you're joined, soaking everything between you two. 

You’re so cock drunk for him, it’s no wonder your body was so willing to accept his seed. He just has that effect. Maybe pregnancy won’t be so bad for you after all…

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 1

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

-🐺-

The sky was dark and sheeted in heavy fog by the time that Ghost had finally come for you. It was the first time you’d seen the man in the skull mask, but not the first you’d heard of the name of his Captain. Your ears twitched at the familiarity as he spoke it, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your battered back. 

“I’m here on behalf of Captain John Price, he called ahead about the hybrid.”

You’d lifted your numb head from the concrete floor when you realised you recognised that name, painfully craning your neck just to see who’d spoken it. You tried to work the stiffness from your muscles, popping joints and rolling them as far as your bounds would allow. Water was tumbling off you like a dam all the while, creating little murky puddles all around you. Despite the flimsy tin roof above, the rain had been relentlessly blown onto you for most of the day.

As usual it was your fault you were suffering, you knew well enough you could’ve avoided the punishment. You could’ve chosen to suck up your pride. Though as your mind cycled back through the day, you wondered if maybe it was all inevitable. Perhaps they pushed you as a way of giving a last sordid goodbye gift. 

A morning lashing followed by the announcement that you were being transferred to an unnamed team, being sent off to pack up your meagre possessions, finished off by a full day tied up and abandoned on the floor of the outdoor kennels. Somewhere through the first few hours of being left there you’d begun to feel a tiny spark of anticipation at the idea of being taken away. You’d wondered if things might be better somewhere else. 

However when the mysterious man strode into your line of vision, you were right back to feeling hopeless. Every inch of the unyielding cold was digging it’s way into your aching bones, but even through that you were shivering now at the idea of being taken away by him. He was a giant, all shadows and wide angles, black cloth with a stab of white around his face. You fixed your sights onto his mask and felt your teeth almost shatter as you realised it was a skull. Was this big terrifying bastard your new handler? 

“Ah, yes…Lieutenant,” there was an awkward pause, the handler clearly felt much the same as you about the behemoth. “Just over there. You’ll have to fill out some paperwork before you leave with it, but you can have a look first and decide if you want to finalise the decision.”

The man nodded and gave a grunt, his eyes narrowing at the mention of paperwork. Oh great, you thought, he’s pissed off and now he’s about to come meet me. There was no escape from him though. You were completely trapped, hands bound tightly behind your back with thick corded rope and legs similarly tied. There was nothing for it, but to wait for him to realise that the pathetic wolf staring up at him was the one he was getting stuck with. 

“This wolf’s been serving out the last of its punishment today,” the handler said, running a nervous hand over his stubbly blonde head. 

You glared at him, throat tightening as you valiantly repressed a growl. He’d always been an asshole to you right from the very start, he revelled in the chance to pull you down a peg or twelve, and that day he’d really outdone himself. He’d hit you with the leather strap until his veins were popping out of his ridiculously oversized arms and then he’d sneered all the way through tying you down for the day. He’d been taking particular joy in telling you ‘act like a bitch, get treated like a bitch’ before leaving you stuck there.

While most soldier hybrids were treated comparatively well, given the nature of the work you did, the base personnel took particular exception to you. Right from the very start, from the day you’d been dumped there as a mere child you’d been marked as the black sheep and there wasn’t a single day that you weren’t reminded of your lack of favour. You’d arrived a shitty kid with a chip on their shoulder and come through it a shell of that past self, never quite escaping the claws of your contentious past.

You were thinking about just how many times you’d been left to rot in that exposed kennel when you finally locked gazes with the Lieutenant. You wondered how he’d see you through those cold unblinking eyes as they peered at you through the front bars. Would he want to hurt you too? 

Of course he would, you thought, they all do. 

“Why’re they tied like that? What sort of punishment is this?”

You jumped at the harshness of his tone. There was a knife edge drawn in it, meant to preface an attack. 

“It’s our version of a time out. Although with the amount this one’s been in here it’s more like a permanent residence.”

You huffed out a breath, watching as the man puffed up his chest. A useless inflatable shield. He wasn’t going to fold and pretend that he wasn’t being harsher than normal to you. He was quite happy to let the other man believe that you were deserving of the treatment. In fairness you had bitten him not long after you’d come back from your last mission, you’d been out of patience and he’d crumpled the last straw in your back. 

“And how long has this timeout been?”

The way the Lieutenant spat the word, it dripped into your ears like venom. You winced as you watched him fold his arms and openly glared at the handler now, sending the other man stuttering backwards a foot or two. 

“Only a half day, Lieutenant,” the handler faltered. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you trying to kill them before they go? What are we meant to do with a half drowned wolf, eh? Its been raining all day, they’re soaked and shiverin’ like a fuckin’ newborn, how the hell do you justify that?”

“You have to appreciate that this is a-”

“I don’t have to appreciate anything. Get that door open now!” the Lieutenant ordered, interrupting the fumbling mess in front of him. 

The handler visibly paled and suddenly thought better of trying to justify his work. He shakily got to work rattling his keys into the door, and yelped when the masked man shouldered past him, staying firmly planted outside while your cell was invaded. 

You whined when his shadow descended on you and tried to pull away, attempting to try and get into a better position to fend off any attacks. However he was on you before you could so much as shift a muscle. 

His gloved hands were quick to undo the knots keeping you pinned down and even quicker to trap you to the ground when he noticed you squirming and splashing your hands through puddles just to get away from him. It was like being held by a stone statue. He was relentless, keeping you pasted down to the floor before dragging you against him and rubbing those solid hands of his up and down your sides, willing your circulatory system to jump into a sprint. 

Your energy was too busy being directed to your head though. The jolt of human touch was nothing like you were used to, and knowing who it was coming from was enough to send you into overdrive. His warm hands and rough voice left impressions up your spine and in your head, his scent burned in your lungs. Notes of spicy orange peel and gunmetal wafted around your head, somewhere faintly you swore you detected traces of cigar smoke.

Suddenly you were thrown back to being sent out on a mission with Price, he wasn’t so bad to work for, he’d treated you well enough and even gotten some food for you afterward. It made you wonder if maybe the big man he’d sent wasn’t so bad too. Not that you’d treat him as anything other than a threat for the time being of course. 

“You with us, darlin’?”

You jumped when you realised he was finally talking to you. Your eyes connected with his, landing on those stormy blue irises before you let loose a growl. You couldn’t help it this time. Your body was kicking into its usual instincts in lieu of having any idea of how to act. Those same instincts had you flinching straight after, waiting for the retaliation. 

“None of that now,” the man chastised softly, “C’mon, stop your growlin’. You’ve gotta warm up, pup, don’t fight me.” 

Where most handlers would have slapped you or kicked you or even cuffed you round your big fluffy ears for all the noise you’d made, this man didn’t even huff at you. He just continued to rub your arms and legs and tried to coax the curl out of your shaking tail. Your usually silvery fur was drenched into a damp grey and clung wetly to his gloves as he ran his hands through it.

“Leave my tail alone!” you snarled, finally breaking free of the spell you were under. 

Your tail had been snapped and broken enough times that it was stuck permanently lopping to the right. You weren’t going to let him do any worse to it. You attempted to twist and break yourself out of his hold but the man was steadfast in keeping you locked against him. His hands fastened to your waist and back and unfortunately pressed harshly against a big welt that scorched you as soon as his fingers pressed there. You howled out a scream in response.

“Hey! Hey, easy now. Stop, I’m not trying to hurt you. Keep still. Easy!”

As if you’d listen to him. You thrashed about to no avail, breathing harshly as you fought through the bubble of anxiety that enveloped you. Your lungs were working so hard to pump that you distantly worried they might explode. Every cell in your body struggled against the masked man, but no matter what you did you weren’t a match for him in your weakened state. 

“Fuck sake, stop standing there being useless and get me a towel,” the Lieutenant shouted over you, calling over to the handler. 

“You actually want it?” The handler questioned, his face a picture of horror as he watched you screaming like a banshee against your prospective new leader. 

“Well I’m not leaving them here to freeze, am I? Get me that towel and tell your superiors to mail the paperwork, we’re leaving.”

“It’s not standard policy to-”

“It's not standard policy for me to rip your spine out your throat, but I just might do it,” Ghost threatened. “Go!”

…

You’d been bundled into a car not long after that, pinned fast to the Lieutenant’s front like a half-dead butterfly. After struggling for a good ten minutes with him, wrestling to keep the towel off you, you finally gave in. Being so good as to allow him to wrap you up and dry you off, roughly sweeping the fabric over the worst of your drowned tail, ears and hair before situating you in the back next to him. The driver started the car and got to moving without a word.

You sat ruefully folding your arms over the soaked towel, hair and fur poking in all directions, watching as your old base faded to a pin prick in the distance. The smell of your damp clothes drying was turning the air stale, but you could hardly focus on that as your mind tried to make sense of everything that had happened. That and your smarting back as it burned against the hard cushioning of your seat. 

Meanwhile the Lieutenant’s voice was a gruff murmur as he spoke to his Captain, he was quietly updating him on the situation. You didn’t really bother to listen, ears pinned to the back of your head as you tried to figure out how to proceed with your new and strange circumstances. 

Most hybrids would eventually be chosen to permanently join teams, but there’d never been any interest for you before. Plenty of Captains would praise your skills and openly admire the work you did, but you were very purposefully told after every time that they’d take a look at your disciplinary file and go running for the hills. It made you wonder what Price had seen in you. You weren’t even convinced you’d been that impressive given you were only assigned to him for a tracking mission. You hadn’t even brought anyone down or had to push yourself very hard at all, you’d only needed to locate his man and report back. 

“Hey Ghost, should I turn up the heat?” 

Your eyes flashed to the rearview mirror, catching eyes with the driver that had broken the silence. He watched you back unflinching. Ghost? You turned and faced the man next you, tilting your head when he looked up at the driver. 

Was his name really Ghost? 

“Your wolf’s shaking,” the driver continued. 

You locked eyes with Ghost again, feeling your heartbeat more than you’d ever had in your life. It felt like it’d been locked in a cage barely big enough to fit. Your tail curled when he ended his call and turned his attention solely on you.

Interrupting the higher ups was never a good thing. You gulped. 

“You still cold, pup?” He asked softly. 

You frowned at him, feeling your ears peek up at the repeated use of the nickname. You were long past being a ‘pup’ anymore. Though for some reason it didn’t feel as patronising as it should’ve. 

“I’ll be fine, sir,” you said, answering stiffly. 

“Didn’t ask if you’d be fine, I asked if you were cold.”

You flinched at his words, already knowing you must be drawing out his ire. It wouldn’t be long before had you back at whatever base he was taking you to and was tying you up to a disciplinary post, you thought grimly. In most cases you knew you could bear the punishment and would quite happily spurn him, but knowing the full size of Ghost you weren’t so sure you’d walk away quite as well as normal from that one. 

You thought carefully before answering him again. 

“I am a little cold, sir,” you shrugged. 

He nodded and motioned for the driver to go ahead and soon the car was filled with warmth, your shaking subsided but didn’t cease. It wasn’t all due to the cold. 

To make matters worse that wasn’t the end of the interaction with Ghost either. Now that he was off the phone he was giving you a proper look over. It felt as if he were assessing every inch of you while you stared back at him, willing yourself to keep your eyes from naturally casting down. Did you measure up to his expectations? 

“Are you ok?” he asked, breaking the bubble of silence that had enveloped you. 

You frowned. What did he care?

“Fine, sir?” 

“Are you asking me if you’re fine?” he snorted. 

You could see the twinkle of a smirk in his eyes. The corners were pulling upwards and you swore you caught a twitch of a smile behind the black material of his lower mask. 

“Do you care either way?” you asked, raising your brows at him. 

He lost his smile at that. 

“I appreciate honesty, pup.”

That was it. He snapped the tether to the tiny frightened wolf inside of you that begged you not to antagonise him and finally, you felt brave enough to push. The real animal inside was allowed to bark and howl uncontrolled. 

“I’m being taken away to god knows where by Mr.Bonejangles and now he’s asking me to be honest with him after I’ve spent the whole day out in the elements with a whipped back. How do you think I’m doing?” you growled.

Now that the heat was properly thawing you out, you were feeling every ounce of your irritability spark to life. Even while you waited for some kind of reprimand, you held firm through your tensed muscles. If he hit you then you would do everything not to flinch from it. 

Test me, asshole. Just do it. You won’t see me break.

He didn’t lash out at you though, he’d already proved he wasn’t like your handlers at your base, but this more than confirmed it. Instead he took a breath and kept his measured gaze on you, letting you know that he was perfectly in control of the situation. 

“My name’s Ghost. I’m taking you down to London, and you’re going to join the 141 with me as your handler. You’re going to be serving under John Price, you did a mission with him and Kyle Garrick about a month back. Do you remember them?” Ghost said, his voice even and clear. 

You blinked back at him, not even bothering to hide your surprise that he’d wanted to give you answers to the questions you clearly had. Now you were truly curious. It wasn’t often that anyone bothered to fill you in on what was happening, you were usually expected to just accept whatever happened and to keep quiet even if you couldn’t. Ghost actually wanted you to talk to him.

“Price is the one with the dodgy beard. And Garrick… he’s called Gaz right? The Sergeant?” you said slowly, still not quite believing you were being engaged with. 

Ghost huffed out a laugh. 

“That’s right. You’ll see them again in the morning, and you’ll get to meet Sergeant MacTavish as well. For tonight all you gotta worry about is getting clean and fed and having a decent night’s sleep. We’ve got a few hours till we get to the base though, so for now you can ask me whatever you like.”

You tilted your head at him and immediately got to work testing this new boundary of yours. Your ears were perked up like antennas as your brian buzzed with activity. You’d never been in a position to ask whatever you’d liked before. 

“Why’re you wearing that mask?” 

He rolled his eyes at that, causing you to shrink back. Ok, so maybe you weren’t really going to get to ask whatever you liked. 

“Gotta hide how handsome I am,” he said, leaning back in his chair and giving you an amused side eye.

You snorted at that and unclenched your hands, letting your sharp nails come away from the chair before it tore. A smile even curled its way onto your lips. 

“Not because you’re an ugly bastard then?” 

“Negative.”

You snorted again.

“So lets see, I apparently have a model handler and a new and very experienced team that I have the honour of being express delivered to. You’re letting me speak more than any of those bastards ever did in a whole day and you’ve not punished me once yet. I can’t help but wonder why you’d choose me for this, especially after you saw me back there,” you said, pursing your lips as if you might come to any conclusions on your own. “Anyone would tell you I’m a liability, but you still took me anyway. Why?”

Ghost raised his brows under the mask, the blackout makeup below shifted and you swore you could make out some of his exposed pale skin out of the corners. You watched him intently, trying to make out any hint of insincerity or anger where there was none. 

“Price said you were good. I trust his instincts.”

“No questions asked?”

“None,” he confirmed.

“Even after seeing my disciplinary record?”

“It raised a few eyebrows on the team, but Price was happy enough with what he saw on the field that he wanted you as long as I did too. And like I said, I trust him,” he sighed when he met your eyes and you still weren’t convinced. “Besides, your record’s a shit show from base but you’ve been getting consistently solid reports back for the last ten years you’ve been getting sent out. I’m willing to bet that that stunning display of incompetence I saw earlier was probably a good indicator of why you’ve not been performing very well at home.”

“Stunning display of incompetence,” you repeated, not able to help the bark of laughter you let loose afterward. 

“Exactly, pup,” Ghost smiled.

You felt something inside you dislodge, like a brick had come out of the fortress you’d built around yourself. While you weren't rushing to fawn over your new handler, but you were willing to offer him more than just your contemptible obedience. Something about that sent a small shiver down your back, but even still you were able to lie back in the chair and let it leave you. 

You didn’t have it in you to ask anymore questions after that. Your head was an overspilling cup already, you didn’t want to drown yourself with anymore knowledge. So instead you let the easy silence take over and looked off into the distance, watching with heavy lids as the car tore through fields and towns in equal measure. 

Your eyes kept closing in a series of syrupy slow blinks, one second you were driving through a hedgeway of trees and the next you were in open blue fields of sky darkened wheat. Somewhere down the line your eyes closed for the final time and you gently arrived into a dreamless sleep, letting the darkness and warmth envelop your aching body. 

…

You had the feeling that you were being lifted. The sudden shift in the air from warm to cold paired with the sensation of being jostled was enough to tip you over the edge of consciousness. In seconds you were looking for something to attack. 

Your eyes snapped open and you went in for a bite, just about to close your teeth around an arm when that same appendage snapped back and fastened your neck against a hard wall of muscle behind you. You growled and panicked, heart hammering and body struggling in a flash of snapping canines and flailing limbs. 

“Hey! Stop your nonsense.”

You stilled at the words, instantly recognising the rough manc accent that they’d come from. You breathed a little and came back to yourself, remembering that you weren’t at your old base anymore and you weren’t being captured by an enemy either. You were being taken somewhere new, not a base or a prison or a kennel, you were being brought toward a bungalow. 

“Where are we?” you asked feebly, frowning at your unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Just outside the base, darlin’,” Ghost rumbled. “This is my home, for now.”

“Why are you taking me to your house?”

You angled yourself against Ghost’s tight hold and frowned up at him, searching his face for any sign of bad intention. You’d invaded houses as part of your job, but never had you stayed inside one since you’d lived with your family. You couldn’t understand why he’d want you to live with him when you knew as well as he did that there were specialised barracks for hybrids in every military base. Why would he want his work invading his personal space? 

“I don’t want you staying at the base until you’re more settled,” Ghost said, pulling one of his hands from you so that he could get his keys out his pocket. “You can choose to stay there if you want after the first few weeks, but until then you’re staying here with me.”

Your ears flickered as the loud jingling of his keys rattled through them and you whined, oversensitive and overtired. He let his remaining arm relax around you and held you close to his chest, shushing you all the while. His spicy aroma filled your senses again and you let your whines die down to low whimpers, hoping that he’d just put you down and leave you alone soon. 

“Sh, It’s ok, pup. I know it’s been a long day, but I just need you to hold on a little longer, alright?”

You nodded and let him carry you through the doorway and down a dark hallway, setting you down on a cool tiled floor before turning on the light. You glanced up at him sheepishly and blinked furiously at the bright blue bulb, having to rub your eyes before you could properly check out your surroundings. Once you rubbed the sleep from them you realised you were in a bathroom.

“You think you can shower yourself and get changed into something for bed?” he asked. “I can run you a bath and help you wash if you need?”

“No, shower’s fine,” you said quickly, not wanting to go through any further humiliation.

“Good, I’ll leave your things for you here and let you get on with it then,” he said, setting down the hold all you’d packed just next to you. “There’s a clean towel there on the rail for you, the blue one. Once you’re clean and changed you can come to the kitchen and get some dinner. It’s just at the end of the hall.”

You checked to your right and sure enough there was a clean fluffy towel waiting right on the heated rail for you. Ghost nodded and took himself out of the room, closing the door with a soft snick and leaving you alone for the first time since he’d picked you up. 

You shivered and chanced a look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, quickly averting your eyes when you realised just how pathetic you looked. Your hair was a mess, your fur was thick with matts and your skin was plastered with dirt. You were a sore sight. You growled at yourself for getting into such a state and stalked into the joint bath and shower, not bothering to wait for the water to heat before yanking the shower on. 

Cold water jetted out and shocked you into awareness, drawing out another low whine until it started to heat up, letting you properly set to work washing all the filth away. There were a couple of bad matts that came out in thick clumps, but other than that you were glad for the shower, pleasantly surprised by how warm it could go. The heat bled through your skin and into your tired muscles and before long you were just standing there enjoying the water, already done with washing yourself. 

You didn’t want to push your luck though. So with an unwilling jostle from your survival instincts you turned the shower off and got yourself out, not wanting to risk Ghost barging in and asking what was taking you so bloody long.

Soon enough you were finding out that being wrapped in one of Ghost’s towels was also quite pleasant. These weren’t anything like the raggedy old towels from your base, like the one sitting sadly discarded on the floor, no these were warm and soft on your skin. Where the other towel scratched this one soothed and you found yourself smiling, feeling your tail wag as you found comfort in the gentle material and lingering orange scented steam. 

Again, you couldn’t stay like that forever. So you dug through the clothes in your bag until you found an old pair of sweats and tugged those on, taking care to gently pull your tail through the specially stitched opening that had long been fraying with age, and then shrugged on a baggy t-shirt afterwards. Finally you were ready and able to go see Ghost. 

You put your towel back on the rail and neatly piled your dirty things in the corner as you weren’t sure what to do with them, then marched from the bathroom and down the hall, depositing your bag outside the doorway. It wasn’t hard to pick out Ghost’s scent even in his own house, even as you now smelled like him after using his Soap. His aroma now mingled with the smell of chicken and chips and your mouth watered as you came into the room, fixing your eyes on where Ghost now stood. He was leaning over a hot oven, pulling out half a rotisserie chicken and a tray of golden brown chips just as you’d walked through the threshold. 

“How was your shower?”

You raised your brows, still taken aback by how much he cared about your feelings and opinions on things. 

“Good, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir when we’re not on base,” Ghost said, throwing you a glance over his shoulder. 

You’d noticed that he’d dressed down since coming home. He’d shed his layers and changed out of his soaked clothes into a pair of jeans and black tee, wearing a black balaclava over his face instead of his skull mask. However you realised when he fully turned around with the plated food that it still had a skull painted over it. Cute. 

“Here, I’ve just heated up some leftovers for tonight. Nothing great, but try to eat up, you’ll need energy for tomorrow.”

“This is all for me?”

You frowned when he set the plate in front of you and looked up wide eyed. He was selling it like it was crap, but it was miles better than the tinned slop they served you on the base. This was fresh, this was the type of stuff you got as a treat when you were sent away on deployments. The crispy chicken skin was already tearing through the teeth of your imagination, your mouth watered at the thought of the sensation. Even knowing it was a little shrivelled from overcooking it was still going to be one of the tastiest meals you’d eaten in a while. Some small part of you wondered if it was all some kind of trick. 

“Yeah, all yours, pup. C’mon eat up, then off to bed,” Ghost urged, giving you shoulder a small squeeze. 

You shrunk from him, but successfully resisted the urge to snap. You couldn’t lash out after how nice he’d been, so you begrudgingly had to allow him the unnecessary physical contact. Putting it out your head, you instead lowered your head to your plate and gathered up your fork, ready to wildly stab at the bits of chicken and crispy chips. You could feel your tail swishing behind you, though even in present company you didn’t care. 

You happily set about finishing your food while Ghost sat across from you, intently typing and reading things on his phone. The light from the device bounced off of his eyes, the fake blue light pooling thick on top of his shrunken pupils. You only realised you’d begun to stare at him when he looked up and seemed to smile at you. 

“Don’t get distracted, finish your dinner,” he chastised. 

Your ears pinned to your head in embarrassment and you focused back on the plate, not looking back up until the plate was empty and your belly was pleasantly full. Your tail twitched happily behind you and you leaned back in your chair with it, closing your eyes so that you could bask in the pleasant heavy feeling that was starting to overcome you again. 

“Ah ah, you’re not sleeping here. C’mon, to bed,” Ghost rumbled.

You opened your eyes again and blinked up at him, glowering under the weight of your exhaustion. Whatever bed you were imagining him having for you, you couldn’t imagine it’d be that much better than the rickety wooden chair you’d planted yourself on. Of course you’d forgotten all the nice things he’d allowed you already, and your mind was imagining something like your sleeping arrangement at the base. 

And once again your expectations were blown out of the water. He gestured for you to come follow him and with a sigh and a sharp crack in your knees you rose from your chair and huffed off down the dark hallway with him. The wood creaked as you both walked across it, groaning more heavily under your new handler’s larger steps. You didn’t have to walk very far fortunately for you. 

Ghost stopped at a door that was just next to the bathroom and opened it, ushering you in front of him as he got the lightswitch. You let him lead you round and looked into the room as it flashed to life, surprised again to see how much better your circumstances had become since leaving your original base. 

“I’m sleeping in here?”

“Yeah, this is your room. You’ve got a few blankets and pillows there on the bed so you can arrange it however you like. I know some hybrids like to nest and some don’t, so its up to you how you want to keep it. All I ask is that you make sure it’s kept clean, and I will be checking.”

You barely listened to him as you stared at the bed in front of you. It was a real bed. Not a stuffed foam pillow on the floor, not a mattress bundled in the corner, not cold barren concrete, no. It was a real bed with legs and a springy mattress and a cornflower duvet cover and an assortment of pillows and blue blankets to match. 

“I’ll let you put your things away tomorrow, for now I want you to lie down for me. You need your tail brushed and I want to check over your back.”

All at once your chest collapsed and the happiness you’d felt left your body entirely, every inch of it dropping from your ears and tail. You turned around and looked at Ghost, stopping him in his tracks just as he was taking a step toward you. He paused when he looked down at the snarl you now wore. 

“You’re not touching my tail, I’ve brushed it already myself,” you rumbled.

“And you’ve done a piss poor job of it. Go lie down and let me take a quick look,” Ghost said, his tone forceful and even. 

You growled then, letting the engine in your chest roar to life. Even if he was being nice to you, this was a step too far. You didn’t like it when people touched your tail or ears, usually it meant tugging and pulling and pain. Whenever you felt someone's hands on them it’d bring bile up everytime, your body ready to process the agony it was about to experience. 

“Alright, I can see that’s an issue for you,” he sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “What if I make sure not to touch it with my hands and just run the brush through, would that be ok?”

You paused and considered his words, growls dying low in your throat. Maybe this was the lesser of two evils, you thought. After all, if he wanted to brush your tail then he more than proved he could overpower you, so perhaps this was the only way to keep him from putting his hands on it. Unless you wanted to put vicious intent behind your attacks, the kind that would get you put down like a dog, then you had no way of actually making him stop. 

“Fine,” you snapped.

“Good. Lie down then,” he commanded, disappearing into the gloom of the hallway after. 

He reemerged again just after you finally lay down. He walked in on your internal battle, one part of you wanting to squeal with joy at how soft the bed was and the other wanting to jump up and bite the hand that held the brushes and lotion bottle. The main thing that gave you pause was knowing that the other handlers you'd known would’ve beat you black and blue for growling at them and questioning their orders, meanwhile Ghost had adjusted his plans just to suit you. He proved again that he championed your comfort. 

“I’ll make this quick, I promise,” Ghost soothed.

He sat down on the bed beside you, causing it to dip and groan under the new weight. It forced you to roll toward him too. You huffed when you came into contact with his side and scrambled to correct yourself, trying to maintain some modicum of distance from him. Once you were settled again, he placed the brushes and lotion bottle down next to you and lifted the thick toothed brush bringing it to your tail. 

You scrunched your eyes shut tightly and grit your teeth. You already felt like you were going to bring up your dinner. You couldn’t help but picture him ignoring his past promises. However instead of living up to your dark imaginings, he placed one hand on the small of your back and let the other drag the brush down your tail snagging almost immediately on a big clumpy matt that you’d missed.

“See, couldn’t let that sit there and build up. You’d end up with a skin infection,” he grunted. “If you don’t want me touching there that’s fine, but you’re going to need to help take the clumps out, ok?”

You stiffly nodded your head and opened your eyes again, feeling your cheeks heat when you realised that Ghost was staring down at you. You gulped down your embarrassment and reached your hand back, digging into your tail and pulling at the clump that the brush had brought up. 

Ghost grunted his approval and let the brush run through again and again, only pausing when it would stop at a tug. It started to become rhythmic, the noise of the brush cutting through your wiry fur and the dull thud whenever it hit a snag. He never once tried to touch you without your permission. 

“How long has your tail been twisted like this,” Ghost asked, interrupting the sound of the brush. 

You tilted your head, trying to think back to a time when it didn’t curve off to the side, you hadn’t remembered it being straight in so long. 

“I think it was fully broken when I was around sixteen maybe,” you said softly. “The doctors tried to set it properly, but it just wouldn’t come back no matter what they tried. I’ve learned to balance with it like that though and it mostly works like it used to - just a little range of movement lost they said”

“How did it break?”

You shivered at the memory. Ghost must’ve felt it underneath his hold on you because he stopped his brushing for a moment and let you speak. 

“Sergeant Maddox got mad because I couldn’t complete the training he’d set that day. I was tired from being out in the kennels the night before and I didn't have the rest of the run in me. He yanked me up off the floor by the tail and it just…snapped.”

You couldn’t see Ghost’s expression properly, but you could hear his anger through the seething breath he let out. A string snapped in your body, you felt the heat coursing from him, you tensed. Though you were soon relaxing again when he got back to brushing, silently continuing on with the rest of the treatment.

The process only lasted a couple of minutes, thankfully it wasn’t as bad as you might’ve thought, soon enough the brush was sliding down your tail like it was a boat sailing through a silver river. The second brush he’d brought, the one with the finer teeth did the same in a matter of three clumps and for a second you were grateful to be able to sleep. You smiled to yourself and got ready to readjust yourself for bed, but Ghost stopped you, his hand still firmly on your lower back. 

“You said you got lashed earlier. I need to check your back first then you can sleep.”

You whined but didn’t bother to properly protest. It would do you no good anyway. He lifted your shirt and let out another seething breath, cursing to himself about something to do with ‘the staff being leagues below incompetent’ and curled up a little, willing him just to be done and to take his venom away from you. 

“These marks aren’t good. I’m going to put a little bit of cream on you to help keep them clean. It’ll sting a bit but I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse.”

You nodded, signalling for him to proceed. He carefully worked the cream into your back, withdrawing when you hissed at the pressure or when he’d covered a particularly bad area. Though in time that was done too and he was twisting the cap back onto the bottle in no time. You breathed in a sigh of relief and worked your way onto your side, turning away from Ghost and his annoying efforts to treat you well. 

He laughed at the movement and gathered his things, rising off the bed and letting you get comfortable. Before you could think to pull up the sheets and get them over you though, Ghost took care of that for you. He stretched the duvet cover over your body and gently stroked his hand down an area of your back that he knew had been missed from your punishment. 

“G’night, pup. Sleep well and just shout if you need anything.” he murmured, voice soft as he retreated from the room. 

He turned out the light and shut the door, leaving you to lie there in the darkness with your wide eyes growing wetter with every retreating step you heard. You were more awake than you’d been the whole day, your mind was racing and your lungs were labouring hard under your heavy breaths. Somehow you tried to process the fact you’d just had someone tuck you in for the first time in…maybe ever?

You let out a little sob and buried your head in the covers, eyes streaming tears before you could bully yourself into controlling them. It felt like you were a new recruit all over again. Your head raced with images from your early years, lying in the bunkroom with all those strangers around you, wondering when your parents would come back, scared shitless of the big shouty human men that seemed so quick to anger. 

You weren’t scared of a big man trying to shout at you and punish you anymore though, now you were scared of the big man that wanted to treat you softly and give you a good home. Hard punishment felt like something you could do, but nice treatment with soft blankets and consenting touches and warm bellies full of food? That terrified the fuck out of you. 

You silenced your cries with the covers and jammed your fingers into your skin, willing yourself to shut up and go to sleep. Even while the salt stung at your cheeks and your skin protested under your sharp claws, the greatest pain felt like the sheer humiliation of enjoying Ghost’s affections.

You liked that he was babying you and taking care of you!

weakling. 

You growled to yourself and threw your head into your pillow. Fuck him. You ignored all your racing thoughts and blocked them out, scrunching your eyes closed and focusing instead on the white dots that crossed your field of vision. You wouldn’t be so weak tomorrow, you promised yourself. You wouldn’t let him dote and treat you like a puppy, you would be strong, you vowed, he’d see what you were really capable of then. 

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Sniff and Bite

Soft Yan, Scent kink, Biting, No sex but he's a little handsy and gets a boner

“Eh, Kitten? Think ya could help me with that box over there?”

Looking up from the book they were glancing at the cover off, they looked to the hyena who was currently tossing more of Leona’s dirty clothes into a hamper.

“Mmm? Yeah, sure thing Ruggie Senpai.”

“Just Ruggie.”

They paused, a soft laugh leaving them that had the beastmen flick his ears and look the side shyly.

“Yes, Ruggie.” They said, teasing in their tone.

Sitting up from the messy bed they made their way over to the box, full and random nick-nacks and rarely worm accessories that Ruggie had set aside.

They eyed it for a moment, trying to think of the best way to get the heavy box up while a certain hyena stared intently at their back.

With a hint of dramatic flair, they pushed up the sleeves of their baggy uniform shirt and crouched down to seal the top properly before digging their fingers into the edges of the bottom. They pulled it up into the air and caught it with a huff, muscles flexing, before heading to Leona’s closest. 

Blueish-gray eyes dilate as they watch the human work.

Gazing from their back to their sweaty neck, his addam’s apple bobbed down with a swallow. The dorm was stiflingly hot and that long sleeve they were wearing wasn't helping at all. He couldn't help but salivate at the scent of their sweat.

Fuck, why they gotta smell so good?

His heart thundered in his chest as blood rushed downward, where he really didn't want it going. For months he had felt the need to watch them, to keep them close, to do...something. It brought out his baser instincts, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just nature telling him what he needed.

It is annoying, frustrating, and all-around inconvenient. Especially with all he already has on his plate, but maybe this could be something good, a reward even.

He deserves to finally have something nice after all.

With a slight stretch, they were finally able to get the heavy box onto the shelf. Backing out of the closet space they closed its door before letting out a yelp as Ruggie suddenly pressed into their back, trapping them against the closet door.

"Ruggie! Wha-" they started, cut off as calloused hands trailed up their bare arms. They felt his hot breath against their cheek and shivered at the feeling, tensing as he took a deep inhale. A hand slid to their neck, and gave a gentle squeeze, before moving to the front of their shirt and pulling down, buttons popping free as shoulders were exposed.

"Ru..ah...Ruggie..." they whimpered softly. The heat of his breath on their ear made them shudder as Ruggie pressed his face into the crook of their sweat-slicked neck.

"You smell so soft en' sweet..." he murmured, and they laughed awkwardly.

"Uh...thanks?"

A possessive growl rumbled in his throat as he ground against them, and they felt something hard press into their backside. Flustered, they tried to turn their head but stopped when Ruggie spoke again, voice a deep purr.

“Hey…”

They paused.

“Uhm…yes…?”

"Just.. .just a few licks and a bite. That would be okay, yeah?"

His voice had dipped into a purring lull, they couldn't help but flush and feel butterflies at his tone. His voice was also…slurred. They were a bit muddled about what he was asking.

Confused, they stammered "Wh-what do you mean?" before letting out a soft moan as sharp fangs dragged against their neck, followed by his hot tongue.

"Don't move..." he warned.

“Wh-” That's when they felt it. Letting out a squeal they felt sharp teeth sink into the tender flesh between their neck and shoulder. 

[comet-forgot-you]

jealousy with tara maybe.. she's trying to piss you off on purpose with chad and you have to teach her bratty ass a lesson

im experimenting a little bit. never been one for spanking but im testing stuff out.

smut. 18+ pls.

her being a little too touchy with him, you know he has a thing for her. she looks at him a little too long and her hands linger far longer than they should. shes complimenting him, touching on his arms, praising him for how well hes been doing at the gym.

you watch with a clenched jaw, fingers digging into your palm. you cant take anymore of it, watching how she seems to give him her undivided attention. but every few minutes, ahe glances your way, that bratty look in her eyes as she bats her eyelashes with feigned innocence.

she keeps the act up until you have her laid across your lap, teasing her soaked cunt in between smacks against her ass. she whines desperately between each one, hips bucking against you for any sort of relief for the ache between her legs. a relief that seems to never come.

“fucking brat,” you force out between clenched teeth. “touching all up on him just because you wanted me to fuck you senseless, right?” she whines but says nothing. “fucking slut,” you smack her ass again. “i asked you a question, answer.”

she moans when your fingers swipe through her soaked folds, you raise your hand up to smack her ass again but shes quick to finally speak up. “yes! fuck! i just wanted to get a reaction out of you. ‘m sorry,” she mumbles out, fisting the sheets beneath her.

you lower your hand to massage her reddened skin. “yeah? just needed to get your thoughts fucked out of you?” she nods and you smile, bringing your hand down to smack her soaked cunt. “use your words.”

she whines loudly, body jolting in surprise. “yes! please!“

you lay her against the bed, leaving her for a few minutes to retrieve your strap before returning. shes on the edge of the bed, propped on her elbows as she eyes the strap harnessed to your waist. “wait, thats too.. thats really big,” her eyes are wide as she stars at it. you run the silicon through her folds, collecting her wetness.

“you can take it. its what you wanted, right?”

[hknightdai]

(REQUEST) A Targaryen Teaching Method - House of the Dragon

Jacaerys Velaryon x Younger Brother!Male Reader

Tags: Anal, Rough Sex

Request: Can I request Jacaerys Velaryon x younger brother where as Jacaerys is learning Valyrian by him self at the painted table his younger brother fucks him roughly while bending him across the table and everytime he has a word wrong the fucking gets more brutal

XXX

“Ugh!...Drāñot (M-Mouth),” Jace groans, gripping the painted table as you thrust into him.

“Sȳz (Good,) Jace. You remembered the word for mouth,” You say.

Turning his head to look back, you thumb his parted lips, “Maybe tolī īlon’ll dīnagon aōha relgos naejot sȳz gaomagon. (Maybe later we’ll put your mouth to good use.)”

The table makes a sound from your older brother's grip tightening. You only smirk as you tighten your own on his hip.

“Now,” You start, pulling your hips back and making him tremble. “What's the word for “fly?”

Jacaerys lets out a breathy chuckle as you sink back into him, “Sōvēs. A-are you even tryi-AH!”

You yank his head back and slam into him, the sound echoing throughout the room. His heat tightens around your cock as you hiss into his ear.

“I was being nice, Lēkia (Brother). Now, how about “Dragonglass?”

The slight shaking of his head makes you grin. Jace tries to concentrate but you give him no reprieve from your cock. His breath stutters as you tug on his hair and proceed to ram into his tight hole.

Jace groans, choking out a response, “Zīr-Zīrtyss! Zīr-!”

“What's wrong, Jace? You don't. Know. The word!” You grunt, slamming into him.

“Fine!” You grab his throat. “How about “attack?”

Your hips smack against your brother's ass, leaving him gasping as your cock repeatedly hits just the right spot. Jace grits his teeth and his eyelids flutter as he tries to fight against the pressure.

“Dra-dracary-”

You cut him off, slamming him down against the table, its old wood digging into his cheek as you bark, “Pirta (Wrong)! You're so used to only using fire, you don't even know something simple!”

His hair fills one hand as the other moves to his back, keeping him pressed against the table as you fucking into him. Stretching him open, you discipline your brother for not studying. Though that is partially your fault, wanting his lips around your cock so often leaves only one of you free to speak High Valyrian.

You chuckle, watching Jace come undone beneath you, gasping and clawing at the table.

“Careful, jorrāelagon lēkia (Dear Brother). Ao might henujagon nykeā mark (You might leave a mark),” You tease.

Had it been some other time Jace would have fumed, currently however, he is only able to clutch onto one of the table's crevices as he suffers your onslaught.

Leaning down, your chest against his back, you breathe against his neck, “How about you tell me the word I use for you?”

Jace bites his lip and tries turning his head against the table, but you yank him back, forcing a loud moan from his lips.

“Speak!” You hiss.

“Dohaerās (Serve)!” Jace lets out.

“Issa (Yes).” And you bite his neck.

Jace's eyes screw shut before letting out a choked moan and cumming. Feeling him tighten once more, you follow suit, painting his insides white.

You both lay there on the once grand painted table, now only another place you two've fucked.

Catching your breath, you pull out of Jace before tucking yourself away. Your brother takes a moment longer to push himself up and turn around, using the table to keep himself upright.

“So?” He asks, still a bit breathless.

You shrug, “I'd say you did better. You actually managed to speak this time, so that's an improvement.”

You run off laughing when Jace tries to hit you, only managing to trip on his pants.

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props! 05

summary: you learn a couple new things about Miles as you fall into your new study routine. wc: 1.1k start from the beginning prev next a/n: probs won't update regularly if i'm being transparent but i gotta wrap the story up! so expect more in the coming weeks probably. and before you ask no this does not mean i'm returning to writing reader insert i am just finishing what i started bc i feel like i owe it to my audience ! much love <3

The auditorium was empty during lunchtime, which meant that no one was there to spectate as the sound of your voice echoed through the rows of unoccupied seats. You were working on one of the numbers from the second act.

“It’s not up to me…Just let me be…Legally–”

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You sighed, not needing to look up to know who it was.

“Have you come to take me away?” you asked dryly as you descended down the steps and trudged over to where Miles stood in the middle of the aisle with a smug look on his face.

“You can finish your song, if you want.”

You brushed right past him towards the double doors.

“Stop pretending to be nice.”

Essentially being a teacher’s assistant, Miles had elevator privileges that removed the hassle of climbing up five flights of stairs to reach Mr. Sanchez’s classroom, making it the most (and perhaps the only) pleasant part of the experience.

Sanchez was digging into a bowl of salad when the two of you arrived.

“Ah! Buenas tardes,” he greeted hastily through a mouthful of lettuce. “Thank you for being on time.”

You shoved past Miles and rushed over to the professor’s desk.

“I just have to make up for last week’s missing homework and a couple quizzes, right?”

“Well, yes, but there’s also–”

“Can I just do that at home, then? All due respect, but I really don’t need a partner to–”

“Hold on,” he held up a hand to stop you. “You also have some gaps in understanding when it comes to grammatical concepts such as presente and futuro, missing assignments notwithstanding. You’ll go over those with Miles first before making up last Friday’s quiz independently. Comprende?”

You visibly deflated where you stood. To tell the truth, the different tenses were never your strong suit, but you were able to get away with that with flawless vocabulary memorization and verb conjugation (in the present tense, of course). Now? Not so much.

“Comprende,” you groaned before turning away to grab a seat.

Miles had already taken a chair and pulled it up to one of the desks in the front, and was sitting on it backwards with his notebook in front of him.

“Ready, partner?” he said with a wide, mocking grin. He knew you couldn’t tell him to shut up in front of Sanchez.

You rolled your eyes and sat down with a slump.

“Let’s get it over with.”

He opened his notebook and flipped through a few messy pages before landing on a blank sheet. Sloppily ripping it free from its binding, he took out a Sharpie (which he uncapped with his teeth) and began to draw a line down the middle. 

“What are you doing?”

He began writing a series of words down either side of the line.

“Helping you.”

Miles slid the piece of paper towards you.

It was a verb conjugation chart, labeled ‘Past Tense’ in his strange handwriting that made no distinction between upper and lower-case letters.

“I’m gonna give you a sentence, and you repeat it back to me in the past tense. Then we’re gonna do the same thing in futuro.”

You sulked, “How come you don’t have to memorize anything? You said you don’t even study.”

He gave you a blank, ‘are-you-stupid’ look.

“I speak Spanish.”

“No duh, I mean in every other class. You know the whole periodic table front-to-back.”

“Huh? Oh, photographic memory. I only need to read something once,” he tapped his forehead, “then it’s locked in.”

Stunned, you could do nothing but lean back in your chair and slowly shake your head.

“Absolutely ridiculous.”

The rest of that week had you repeating the same song and dance of trudging into Sanchez’s classroom and running drills with Miles and his impromptu conjugation charts. For every wrong answer, Miles made an incredibly irritating sound that was meant to imitate a game show buzzer, which forced you to pay more attention to minimize how often you had to hear it.

You hated to admit it, but at some point you began to retain the tenses with more ease than before and noticed a steady increase in your quiz grades as a result. 

Thursday after school saw you arrive at an empty auditorium, thirty minutes before rehearsal. Any normal student would spend this extra time studying or doing homework, but you had seen enough flashcards and charts to last you a lifetime. Instead, you pulled out your highlighted copy of the sheet music for ‘Chip on My Shoulder’ and began rehearsing as a one-man ensemble.

Your singing today felt more difficult than usual; the lyrics suddenly felt heavy on your tongue, the notes coming out strained and forced. In the middle of a line, the double doors swung open just as your voice cracked.

“Damn, were you lip-syncing this whole time? You sound rough.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course it had to be him.

Miles sounded nearly out-of-breath as he strolled past you, his uniform rumpled shirt and un-tucked, as if he’d just put it on. The band-aid on his forehead was joined by another, more colorful one on his cheek. 

“As if you could do better,” you scoffed as you watched him toss his bag onto an empty chair two seats away from where you sat.

He looked up with a mischievous grin.

“I could.”

“Oh?” You smirked and shoved the sheet music into his face. “Try it, then.”

Miles squinted at it before pushing it away.

“Pfft, this song is lightwork. I don’t need that.”

“Alright, then recite your lines. I’ll start,” you inhaled deeply and held up the lyrics. “ ‘You came out here–’”

“‘To follow a man? Harvard Law was part of that plan? Man, what rich, romantic planet are you from?’”

Startled by his near-perfect pitch, you stuttered, lowering the sheet of paper a bit to give Miles an odd look. 

He continued, “ ‘Instead of lying outside by the pool, you stalk some guy to an Ivy League School’...et cetera.”

You blinked in utter disbelief. Miles’ voice had a tone as clear as a bell, and flawless diction to match. If he had auditioned, he would’ve been a shoe-in.

“...Huh. You sing? Like, actually?”

He shrugged, “I used to lead the choir at church, but not anymore.”

Just as he finished his sentence, Sarah followed by a handful of tech kids began trickling into the auditorium.

“Oh, sweet, you guys are early!” Sarah nodded, making two check marks on her clipboard as her bag hung off of one shoulder. “Miles, d’you wanna help figure out the lighting situation for the show? Josh said you were good with color.”

“Sure, not a problem.”

“You’re amazing, dude. I don’t know how we would’ve gotten those sets done without you.”

“All in a day’s work!”

[luvnami]

𝐬𝐮𝐧.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - written for gn!reader/tav, and for myself, who needs the comfort. this was written in one seating and not proofread, so please forgive any mistakes or irregularities lol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 660

・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・ ゜・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・ ゜・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・ ゜・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ・

“sweetheart?”

astarion’s voice and a knock at the door makes you freeze.

“are you alright?”

tears trickle down your cheeks. damp spots darken the inn’s worn bedlinen, and you struggle to find your voice amidst a congested nose and tight throat. your knuckles curl around the blanket that you’ve thrown over your head. grey clouds creep across the horizon, foreboding a downpour at any second. 

“i- ah-”

in an attempt to clear your nostrils, you sniffle and snort back thick mucus. it hits the back of your throat and you go into a coughing fit. astarion shifts his weight uneasily behind the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. 

“can i come in?” 

he speaks softly; warily. 

“yes. please.”

your words come out like a plead. the door squeaks on its hinges as astarion pushes it open to your room. you see nothing but bleak rays of candlelight that creep through the threadbare blanket, yet you know the vampire approaches you judging from the quiet shuffle of his feet across the wooden floorboards. 

“whatever is the matter?” 

the edge of your bed sinks down under his weight. your teeth dig into your lower lip, heart beating against your chest. somehow, you’re embarrassed to show astarion your face (and more than that, perhaps. all of the reasons that had caused your poor heart to shatter into pieces leave your mind in an instant and you feel silly – a fool, for crying over an assortment of nonsensical reasons). astarion’s hand rests on your shoulder, even as you lay curled up with your back to him. 

maybe he would take you for a child. immature: one who knows nothing of the world but flowers that bend to a spring wind’s will and gentle, foamy waves that kiss sandy shores. you imagine astarion might even be upset. perhaps you should have told him something was wrong earlier, or he would get frustrated that you were crying in your crib like a newborn babe. 

your mind swims with a hundred tales to excuse your tears, but before you can utter a single word, you feel astarion’s warmth press against your back and his arms wrap around you. 

“you don’t have to say anything, my dear. cry all you need.”

fresh tears rise to your eyes and you instinctively clam a hand over your mouth, stifling the sobs that make your shoulders tremble. 

“i will be here – with you, for you.”

the coil in your chest relaxes. astarion holds you close as you shatter apart once again.

.

at some point, you turn over in bed and peel back the covers. your eyes meet. yet, astarion’s gaze does not change from one of love to that of disgust, of frustration. his thumb gently wipes away a last tear that clings to the inner corner of your eye. your eyelid flickers shut in response, and you sniffle once more. 

“i’m sorry,” you choke out. 

“for what?” he replies, almost incredulously. 

astarion seems puzzled. your bottom lip quivers as you rest your head on his chest, still encased in your blanket cocoon from the shoulders down. 

“i got snot on your shirt.”

he pauses. then astarion lets out a soft huff of amusement, hand finally coming to rest on your lower back. 

“why would you ever apologise for that?”

he leans forward and presses a kiss between your brow. before you can reply with a halfhearted ‘i don’t know’, astarion rests his head in the curve between your neck and shoulder. his curls tickle your cheek, but you stop him. 

“i have all of eternity. so please take your time, my love. all of mine is yours.”

astarion’s warmth feels like that of the sun meeting the earth, glowing rays spilling across the cusp of the land. you stand barefooted in the plains of faerûn. as grass blades tickle your ankles and birds leave their nest to cry the morning forth, the astarion offers you his hand. 

you take it.

[queer-n-here]

I JUST SAW YOUR POST ABOUT WANTING TO BRANCH OUT TO DIFFERENT FANDOMS

AND THAT YOURE OK WITH MHA

BAKUGOU X READER PLS PLS PLS

Like brat Bakugou x brat tamer reader, breaking down his rudeness until he’s begging for it. PLS I wanna fuck him till he cries pls

(Sorry for the hornyposting oops k bye)

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yesssssss!!!

Fuck yeahhh brat taming Bakugo let's go!

(This was my initial reaction to recieving this req, no shit)

Contents: Lil headcannons bout taming Baku! Hope you like em!

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, edging, mentions of overstim near the end.

Bakugo, his ENTIRE character, screams 'I'm a little brat' like nothing else.

So I can see him being rude to you, too, mocking and joking around about some of your habits to piss you off. What that dumbass doesn't think of, however, is the consequences of his actions.

You grab Bakugo by the wrists and pin him to the bed you two were sitting at, press your knee between his legs and push them apart, holding him down despite his struggles.

"Look at you, all riled up just from some jeering." He says, smirking and completely oblivious of his fate. "What is it, haven't taken you- mmf!"

You cut him off with a kiss first, letting go of his wrists momentarily to rip his clothes off of his body.

Bakugo wouldn't admit it if you put a gun to his temple, but he loves being manhandled like this. You're stronger than him, which is something he tried to be in denial about earlier, but not anymore.

So when you enter his asshole without preparing him, he gives up the struggle and scrambles to find purchase to ground himself.

You fuck into him, making his hips buck up into yours. You hold him down, and began thrusting into him at a pace so slow it has him losing his mind.

You're hitting all the right spots, and the stimulation is making his back arch and eyes water, but its not nearly enough. Bakugo tries clenching around you, trying to rile you up to get you to fuck him senseless the way you sometimes do, but you just hiss and tighten your hold on him, pace slower than ever.

And it doesn't take long for him to lose his composure and fall apart in your hands. He's reduced into a needy mess soon, chest jolting as his breath hitches, hands grabbing at your shoulders so tight you feel his blunt nails dig into your skin.

"More, ah! [Name] faster!" Is the only string of comprehensible words that he can utter soon.

"Oh?" You grit your teeth against the sparks of pleasure each thrust is sending up your cock. "You wanna get fucked, hmm? Then why weren't you acting like it just now, Baku?"

And he just whines, feeling your tip barely brush against sweet spot this time, the denial of that pleasure he knew you could give him so intense it made him see black spots in his vision that he had to blink to clear.

So he begs, he begs like the whore he is in bed, like the cock-addicted little slut you've made him, who wants nothing more than to have you rearrange his insides to the shape of your cock.

You take pity on him, like c'mon, you can't keep edging him forever when your own cock is pulsing with want, right?

So you bend him in half and plunge into him, your pace like that of a wild fucking animal as you thrust into him, finally giving Bakugo what he wants.

Bakugo lays there, his brain slowly turning into mush as you finally, finally fuck him, his moans loud even over the sound of skin slapping against skin with each of your thrusts, sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead.

I mean, the night is still young tho. Maybe you can overstimulate him next, rip orgasm after orgasm from him till his entire frame his shaking, till his dick is shooting blanks, till he passes out on the bed under you from exhaustion, leaving you to clean up the mess on the bed. Who knows? 😉

[vicsy]

charlos + wine

"I know your father is planning my murder right now," Charles says under his breath, then breaks into a fit of bumpy giggles.

It's like sandpaper to Carlos' ears.

He maneuvers Charles past the master bathroom door, then shuts it hard as if they're being chased by wolves. Carlos turns around to the sight of Charles leaning back on the designer bathroom counter next to the marble sink, warm and languid, his smile digging into the dimples on his cheeks, almost the same as when he hurriedly pressed a pristine, white cloth napkin to Carlos' ruined dress shirt and said, sweetly, to his mother's face across the dinner table – ah, I'm so terribly sorry.

"Charles," Carlos breathes out, awfully measured. He looks down at himself, the front of his shirt soaked in red; he looks up at Charles, at the silver of his collarbone, taunting, and then at his lips – parted, enticing. Red.

He is never hueless, a speck of color in the eyes of a charging bull with a knife stuck in his neck. Some of the red has rubbed off on Carlos, too. Perhaps it's just the wine sticking to his skin.

"Oops," Charles whispers. Tilts his head, neck bared, one of his beloved chain necklaces pooling in the hollow of his throat. A flutter of his inky-black eyelashes, a picture of tarnished innocence.

Perhaps not.

Downstairs, gathered in the isolation of a spacious dining room, a heated exchange in Spanish bounces off the walls, collides with the ceiling, making the floor beneath Carlos' feet vibrate and wobble. Charles' genuine sweetness is a perfect cover for the sharpness of his teeth; he bit the hand that's been feeding Carlos for decades without a second of hesitation once he felt it reaching for his neck. To Carlos, Charles' smile – bloody in the aftermath – was sugary and dauntless.

Or maybe it was the wine that spilt from the the glass held in his father's hand raised for a toast of mockery.

Carlos' jaw clicks. The lock on the door does, too, when he turns it without breaking eye contact with Charles, staring him down still as he undoes his shirt – a button, then a step forward; another button off and Charles hoists himself up on the counter with little grace. Carlos had gone up to change out of his ruined clothes, Charles following him purposefully, but now his vision tunnels on the distinct shape of Charles, unmarred by the heady scent of wine from a bottle that's older than both of them. His restraint fades. Carlos inhales, nostrils flaring. His shirt is gone, nothing but a handful of fabric fisted in his hand, and Charles' knees part, inviting, beaconing Carlos with a call that drowns out the rest of the noise.

"Ay, of course. Oops," he repeats, mimicking Charles slightly, eyes squinting and his breath momentarily caught. With ease, his body slots into the cradle of Charles' spread legs. He's leaning back, practically lounging, drawing out time like torn out strings. Carlos knows why, what purpose it serves. He reads it in Charles' gaze skirting over his bare chest, in the corner of his wine-stained lips when he tilts Charles' head up with a finger pressed under his chin. "It's better if you're quiet then, since you made a mess. Yes?"

Charles' defiance knows no bounds and Carlos envies him, wants to steal it for himself but Charles is in the one who relents in the end, cuts the rope before it snaps. The soft edges of him were never a curse in Carlos' eyes but he's failed to learn how to let go in time, an old dog that has run out of its tricks. And it's familiar – the way Carlos has to do nothing but Charles mouth drops open after time stretches into something unreal, just enough for him to slip the wine-soaked shirt past his lips and wait for Charles to clamp onto it, ostentatiously obedient. Carlos caresses his cheek with shaky patience, then passes his fingers through Charles' silky hair. His eyes flutter shut.

It's when Carlos moves, in the sliver of a moment when he's out of sight, pressing his face into the crook of Charles' neck and grabbing onto his waist. Downstairs, a storm brews and scratches against the door, but they're fused together now, uncaring. Carlos' lips mouth an absence of earnest words up the column of Charles' neck; he reaches down to unzip Charles' pants, wrapping deft fingers around his shamelessly hard, wet cock. Carlos steadies himself now, leaning into the habit with a few strokes. So predictable.

Charles' fingers dig into his shoulders like talons; another trap closes in, tears into his flesh but Carlos doesn't mind.

He'll blame it on the wine.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence (or more) fic about it.