#also like. admittedly. i have no idea why it's made out into such a big deal??

[shortypipatrick]

One of the things about Hans is that he's fucking lonely. His parents died when he was very young, and he's being raised by his 'uncle', who, in theory, is meant to give Rattay over to him when he's of age. In the games, he's 19 or 20 (?). And so he has no family, really, except Hanush and whatever staff is raising him. The people he spends time with are all trying to train him to be a better noble, a better politician, someone who will do what they want when he's the lord of Rattay. And anyone who isn't, isn't around for him; they're there for Hanush. And even though Hans is a noble, he has no real claim - it belongs to Hanush - and on top of that, he's very young, and a little hot-headed - and immature, admittedly - so they just don't respect him. At all. It's made very clear at different points in both games; he's at the table because he's a noble, but no one thinks he's earned more respect than that.

And then the commoners he spends time around pretend. They pretend to like him, pretend to respect him, pretend, pretend. Because he is a noble, because he does have power over them, because if they don't, they could be in very real trouble. So they laugh at his jokes, listen to his stories, play dice with him and lose at practice duels.

And as soon as he's gone, they whisper about how bad he would be as a leader, how they don't want Hanush to hand over Rattay, how hes immature and childish and snobby and annoying....

And then, this orphan from Skalitz shows up, half dead after running for his life and being saved at great danger to some great knights, and he has the AUDACITY to ask Sir Radzig to be his squire.

And then Hans hates him - and Henry hates Hans. And they argue. And they duel with swords, they compete at archery, they get in a brawl at the tavern when Hans wants to ignore the rules, but Henry doesn't think he should be allowed to. And Hanush punishes them both by making them go hunting.

And Henry doesn't laugh just because Hans told a joke - he doesn't respect him just because he should. He argues, insults him, makes jokes at his expense, and then, even after all that, he saves his life

And they carry on like that. And Hans grows fonder and fonder of this boy from Skalitz who isn't afraid of him, who actually, truly does respect him, but doesn't kiss his ass just because he's supposed to. And he isn't Lonely, anymore. And that's huge for him. And I think it's a big part of why he fell so hard for a village yokel.

Theres also a lot of times where someone is just plain disrespectful to Hans - ignoring his ideas or just whatever he said or telling him it's bad or ETC, ETC - and Henry can step in and stand up for him. It's another one of those things that I imagine no one else ever did for him. His only family was Hanush, and he's plainly more concerned with Hans figuring out how to act appropriately in court than he is with listening to his ideas or whatever

And Henry gets SO mad and fuckin fights with him at the start of KCD2, and for a while, Hans is so mad that he called him out, told him he's a spoilt brat and a fool, and then, when he sees Henry again, he keeps up his stupid act until Henry is in trouble, and he's there immediately to back him up, at the cost of his own freedom and almost his life. Because Henry is his friend, and he cares for him very deeply.

(And also! After their fight, he's all "fuck off, I don't want to see you, I'll figure it out on my own," but if you find him out poaching, he'll still say "I'm trying to get money so WE can get into the wedding")

And also the whole time he's agnozing that he might actually lose Henry because of his behavior - he admits as much to Henry, which is not easy for him at all. And Henry reassures him he does care about him, and gives "his word as a blacksmith" that he won't leave his side.

Henry is something he's never had. He's honest, and he cares about Hans. He doesn't serve him platitudes or try to make him pleased because he should. He's unafraid to argue when Hans is wrong, or call him out on stupid ideas. But, even so, he'll argue to defend Hans against people he has no business arguing with, and he'll risk his life again and again to save him.

And Henry doesn't need great romance poems or epic stories; he just needs his honesty. When he tells Hans he cares, he doesn't make a big show, he just says it, every time. "I care about you, maybe more than you know." And how often has Hans had that?

Looking at all of it through the lens of Hans, how he was raised, how lonely he must have been. He needed Henry as much as Henry needed him. Their love is so wonderful, and it makes so much sense. I do hope the beautiful folks at Warhorse are unafraid to make it a bigger part of the next game.

[chussyracing]

You should see what #his fans say about pr! something about fans connecting more with Max because he's more and I kid you not "real" and Charles fans being more superficial because he's obviously only a pr robot that doesn't have personality unlike their favorite driver 😭 who is except from pr obviously. We all see his true personality, shown by the non calculated team RBR, that just lets him "be himself". When I read things like that I have to just laugh and scroll

so true, you can allow yourself a quick pause for laughing but then it's back to scrolling for the next shitpost 🙃

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. “Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?” His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.

[minarisplaything]

A Good Boy's Reward (ft. TripleS)

summary: your biker mommies decide to reward you for doing a good job on the most recent run. aka these concept photos inspired something tags: threesome, foursome (sort of), pegging, rimming, excessive use of 'baby boy', mommy kink, daddy kink, biker gang!au, domme!Sohyun also known as just Sohyun, male reader, did i mention pegging? seriously don't continue if this isn't your cup of tea word count: 4.6k

“Baby boy, are you ready?” 

You shuddered, feeling Xinyu’s hot breath against your ear. The tall, 174-centimeter goddess stood behind you, her arms circling around your shoulders. Sohyun, who was across the room tinkering with preparations, glanced over her shoulder. Her short-cropped hair only accentuated the smirk that graced her features. 

“Look at him, he’s practically trembling,” she teased.

“He’s just excited,” Nakyoung, the third member of the group, her voice comforting. 

She was kneeling atop the bed so she was eye level with you, her hand rose to stroke your cheek. Her role as a foil to Sohyun’s demeanor was incredibly effective. “Isn’t that right?”

You could only nod at first, your mind still grappling with the situation you found yourself in. 

“I guess I am a little nervous…”

“It is his first big reward after all,” Xinyu said, one hand rising to stroke your hair while the other ran circles against your skin. Her voice was warm and flirtatious, “You’ve really been working hard for us.”

“Yeah, if it weren’t for those last adjustments you made we might have been sitting in a jail cell,” Nakyoung smiled. “You’re our little genius.”

“If you keep praising him like that he’s going to get an ego,” Sohyun chided from across the room. 

“He would never!” Nakyoung protested, a slight pout forming on her features as she looked at Sohyun before turning back to you. “Right?”

“O-of course not,” you stammered.

“Well, if you did then we’d just have to put you in your place,” Sohyun said.

Something about the words she spoke sent another tremble through you. Almost as if you hoped she’d follow through on those words. And, admittedly, a part of you definitely did. 

Xinyu craned her head over her shoulder, noting the way your body was reacting to Sohyun’s words. A small grin spread across her features, “I think he likes that idea.” 

Sohyun looked over, pausing as she tightened a buckle on her hip to look over at you with her eyebrow raised. “Does he? Do you like the idea of mommy putting you in your place, huh? Reminding you that you work for us. That you belong to us.”

You moaned at her words, your cock twitching to life, brushing against Nakyoung’s stomach and she let out an amused gasp. “He definitely does.”

“Maybe we’ll keep that in mind, if we think you deserve it,” Sohyun smirked.

“Seriously though, he did good. Kaede would have been screwed without him,” Nakyoung added.

“I agree,” Xinyu pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Her arm snaked around you, her fingers curling around your cock as she began to stroke you slowly. “That’s why he’s getting this special reward tonight. Our brave boy. Isn’t that right, Sohyun?”

Finally done with her task, Sohyun turned to face you. And what a sight it was. She was nude, her body on display for your gaze as the light from the mirror behind her provided illumination. Your eyes traveled over her soft breast down further to where a strap on dildo was secured firmly on her crotch. Her fingers smoothed over it idly while she stayed at you. The look in her eye said nothing short of her wanting to devour you. 

“Jesus, Sohyun…” Xinyu breathed out, clearly appreciating the view as much as you were. 

“You have to wait your turn. It’s his night, remember?”

Xinyu nodded weakly, her grasp tightening around your cock and causing you to let out a pleased whimper. As you watched Sohyun grab the bottle of lube off of the dresser and begin to lather the dildo in preparation of what was to come, you couldn’t help but think of how you had gotten to this moment. 

Not this moment specifically, sandwiched between two beauties with your cock out and a third beauty on the way. But rather how you became their baby boy as Xinyu had put it. 

It started with Nakyoung. Before you had been involved with their group, you were merely a freelance repair man. In this day and age it was startling how many people didn’t know basic fixes for their tech, but it paid the bills so you weren’t one to complain. Nakyoung had been one of your customers, a regular one at that. You didn’t question it really. At first you had just assumed she was bad with tech. And even if she was a cute girl getting up to no good, well, that wasn’t any of your business.

Apparently it was that exact attitude that had proven you were trustworthy. It wasn’t long before Nakyoung came to you with a job. Then another. Soon after you met the rest of the gang – not that they referred to themselves as such. Eventually, you had become their full-time support, even learning how to tune their motorcycles to peak performance. 

Was it illegal? A lot of it was, sure. But that hardly mattered. You felt safe and accepted with them. More than you ever had anywhere else.

Even now, as you watched Sohyun prepare herself for you, there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“Nakyoung, why don’t you warm him up,” Sohyun said. 

“Wasn’t I doing that already?” Xinyu asked.

“That was just the start,” Nakyoung quiped as she shifted back onto the bed. Her comforting gaze turned into a sultry look as she spread her legs for you. “It’s all yours.”

“You’re going to fuck her good, aren’t you?” Xinyu whispered, nibbling on your earlobe as she guided your cock towards Nakyoung’s entrance.

The sight of Nakyoung, looking at you with her large eyes and beckoning you forward struck a chord. Despite their repeated comments about this being your night, you felt a deep desire to bring her pleasure. 

Her hand found yours, interlacing your fingers as you began to sink into her, Xinyu’s hands on your hips guiding you deeper and deeper. You tried to resist the shudder that ran through your body at the feeling of Nakyoung’s walls around you but to no avail. And how could you when she was taking you inch by inch with an angelic look on her features. 

“She feels good doesn’t she?” 

Xinyu’s question came as her touch lingered on your hips. 

“Mhm,” was all you could manage in response along with a weak nod. 

“So tight and perfect,” her hand stroked your hair. “And all yours.” 

“Fuck…”

Nakyoung sighed as you bottomed out inside of her, filling her to the brim. Her legs moved around your waist, locking you in position as merely held each other for a long moment. 

You knew what was coming. What was waiting for you once Sohyun finally got her hands on you. But for now you would focus on this. On Nakyoung’s pleasure and Xinyu’s guidance. 

“Does it feel good?” you croaked out. 

“So fucking good, baby,” Nakyoung moaned, her bangs splayed across her forehead as her head fell back. “So full.” 

You felt Xinyu’s hand pressing against your lower back and took that as your cue to move. It was slow at first, tentatively drawing yourself out before stuffing her again. You weren’t necessarily inexperienced but it was safe to say that domination didn’t come naturally to you. And yet, this feeling – biting your bottom lip as Nakyoung’s nails dug into your forearm – was addicting. 

They might’ve joked about you getting an ego from this but now you were starting to see why. Having this sight at your fingertips was enough to make any man addicted.

“More,” Nakyoung whined, her fingers dipping between her thighs to tease her clit. “Faster.”

You felt your hesitation steadily slipping away with each thrust, as your hips snapped faster. Eliciting delightful moans of pleasure from Nakyoung. It helped that you hand Xinyu nibbling on your earlobe, continuing to whisper sinful encouragement in your ear.

“Keep fucking her just like that baby,” Xinyu said, “Our little pillow princess making you do  all the work.” 

Your eyes focused on Nakyoung, her short hair splayed against the bed as she took every inch of you with short gasps. You couldn’t say Xinyu was wrong. She looked every bit the princess right now. But was that really such a bad thing?

Xinyu continued. “I’m going to make you feel even better.”

“W-what do you mean?”

You felt Xinyu press a kiss to your nape, then another against your shoulders and back. Your neck craned slightly to try and look over your shoulder, prompting a response from the woman beneath you. Nakyoung reached up, resting on one elbow as she turned your face to look at her. 

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude not to focus on the girl your dick is in?” 

Your cheeks flushed at being called out. “S-sorry.”

To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. 

There were two women drawing your attention in different ways and a third who hadn’t joined the party yet. And that was without getting into the ways Nakyoung’s walls were squeezing your cock each time you pushed into her, as if begging you to empty your load inside of her.

“Don’t worry about her,” Nakyoung insisted.

Which was hard to do when you felt Xinyu place another kiss, this time at the small of your back. Before you could question it any further, you felt something moist tickling your backdoor. 

“Oh!” that was interesting, “Oh, fuck…” Your hips jerked involuntarily as you hunched over slightly. 

“I think he likes it, Xinyu,” Nakyoung moaned. 

Xinyu didn’t respond with words but rather with actions. Her tongue circled around your hole and your toes curled in response.  

Xinyu’s tongue pressed against you with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each flick sending jolts of electricity up your spine. You gasped, your hips stuttering as you tried to maintain your pace with Nakyoung, but the dual sensations were overwhelming. Nakyoung’s walls clenched around you, her breath hitching as she felt you twitch inside her.

“Fuck, baby,” Nakyoung moaned, her voice trembling. “You’re getting so hard.” 

Her nails dug into your shoulders, urging you to keep going even as your focus wavered. Xinyu’s tongue was relentless, teasing and probing, making it impossible to think straight. Your breath came in short, ragged bursts, and your hands gripped the sheets for stability.

“That’s it,” Xinyu murmured against your skin, her voice low and sultry. “Just relax, baby boy. Let me take care of you.” 

Her tongue dipped back inside, and you let out a strangled groan, your hips jerking forward into Nakyoung again. Nakyoung giggled. 

“God, you’re so sensitive,” Nakyoung teased, her fingers trailing down your chest. “How does Xinyu’s tongue feel, baby? Do you like what she’s doing to you? She’s getting you nice and ready for Sohyun, isn’t she?”

You shuddered, your hips stuttering as Xinyu’s tongue pressed deeper, more insistently. “Y-yes,” you managed to gasp, your voice trembling. “It feels… so good…”

Xinyu’s tongue circled your rim with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each flick sending jolts of electricity up your spine. Her hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as she worked you open with a practiced ease. You could feel the tension building in your lower belly, a coil threatening to snap, as your body responded to her every touch.

You felt her hand slide beneath you, her fingers gently nassaging your balls. The dual sensation was overwhelming—her tongue teasing your rim while her fingers applied just the right amount of pressure, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You groaned, your hips twitching involuntarily, and Nakyoung let out a breathy laugh.

“Someone’s enjoying themselves,” she said, her legs tightening around your waist as you continued to stretch her out. Her walls clenched around you, warm and wet, as if urging you deeper. “You feel so good inside me, baby. But I think Xinyu’s the one really making you lose it, huh?”

You couldn’t argue. Xinyu’s tongue was relentless, her fingers working in perfect harmony to drive you wild. Every flick, every press, every gentle squeeze sent you closer to the edge. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, and your fingers dug into Nakyoung’s hips as you tried to keep your rhythm.

“You’re doing so good,” Nakyoung whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “But I think… I think you’re ready for more, aren’t you?”

You barely had time to process her words before you felt Xinyu pull away, leaving you achingly empty. You groaned at the loss, but before you could protest, you heard the soft click of a bottle cap and the slick sound of lube being applied. Your heart raced as you realized what was coming next.

“Stay just like that.”

Sohyun’s voice cut through the haze, as she moved across the room. 

You froze, your hips still buried deep inside Nakyoung, her warmth enveloping you. Xinyu’s hands were on your hips again, steadying you as Sohyun moved behind you. You could feel the heat of her body as she pressed close, her breath warm against your back.

“You’ve been so good for us,” Sohyun murmured, “But now it’s my turn to reward you.”

Nakyoung’s hands slid up your chest, her touch soothing as she whispered, “Take deep breaths.” 

You nodded, your throat too dry to speak. Sohyun’s hands gripped your hips, her fingers digging into your skin as she positioned herself. The weight of her presence behind you was overwhelming, and you could feel the cool tip of the strap-on pressing against your entrance.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice teasing.

You swallowed hard and nodded again. “Y-yes.”

Sohyun smirked, her hand gripping the base of the strap-on as she applied pressure. “Good boy.”

The first press was slow, deliberate, and you tensed instinctively. But Sohyun’s hands were firm, holding you in place as she leaned over you, her breath hot against your ear. 

“Relax,” she said. “I’ve got you.”

You forced yourself to breathe, to let the tension seep out of your muscles. And then, with a slow, steady push, she was inside you. The stretch was intense, but the way she filled you sent a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. You moaned, your head falling forward as she bottomed out, your hips pressed flush against Nakyoung’s.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your hands clutching at Nakyoung’s shoulders. “Sohyun…”

She leaned over you, her chest pressing against your back as she whispered, “Sssh, you’re doing so well.” 

Her voice was soft, almost tender, a stark contrast to the commanding tone she’d used earlier. Her breath was warm against your ear, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You could feel her weight against you, the heat of her skin, the way her body molded to yours. It was grounding, comforting even, as you adjusted to the fullness of her inside you.

A beat passed, and you felt yourself starting to relax, the initial intensity giving way to a deeper, more insistent pleasure. Sohyun’s hands smoothed over your hips, her touch firm but gentle. 

“I’m going to move now,” she murmured, “Just keep breathing for me, baby boy.”

Her hips pulled back slowly, dragging a whimper from your lips, before she thrust forward again, deeper this time. The sensation of being filled from both ends was overwhelming, and you could feel Nakyoung’s walls clenching around you in response.

“Oh god,” Nakyoung moaned, her nails digging into your arms. “You feel so good… both of you…”

Xinyu’s hands were on your back now, her touch light and teasing as she watched the scene unfold. “Look at him,” she said, her voice filled with awe. “Taking it like a champ.”

Sohyun’s pace quickened, her thrusts becoming more deliberate, more demanding. Each movement sent shockwaves through your body, and you could feel yourself losing control, your hips moving in time with hers. Nakyoung’s moans grew louder, her legs tightening around your waist as she urged you deeper.

“That’s right,” Sohyun growled, her hands gripping your hips tighter. “He loves Mommy’s strap.”

Sohyun’s thrusts were relentless, each one hitting a spot inside you that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. It was a kind of pleasure you hadn’t known you could feel, let alone crave. The stretch, the fullness, the way she dominated you—it was overwhelming in the best way. You were completely at her mercy, and you loved it.

Nakyoung’s walls clenched around you, her body trembling as she neared her own peak. “Fuck, baby,” she gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders. “You feel so good… so deep…”

To the side, Xinyu had settled onto the edge of the bed, her legs spread as she touched herself. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, her eyes locked on the scene before her. 

“Look at him,” she gasped, “Isn’t he perfect?”

Sohyun’s hands tightened on your hips, her thrusts growing harder, deeper. 

“He is,” she agreed, her voice rough with desire. “Our perfect little toy. Aren’t you, baby?”

You could only nod, your voice lost in a moan as Sohyun’s strap-on brushed against that spot inside you again. Your hips jerked involuntarily, and Nakyoung let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours.

“Two cocks, and I’m stuck with my hand,” Xinyu pouted, her fingers moving faster, her breath hitching as she teased herself. Her eyes flicked to you, a playful glint in them as she bit her lip. “Not fair, is it?”

Nakyoung let out a breathy laugh, her hips rolling against yours as she tightened around you. “Maybe you should try taking two next time,” she teased, her grin wicked. “See how well you handle it.”

The image popped into your mind, vivid and intoxicating: Xinyu, her body arched and trembling, stretched to her limit as she took two cocks at once. One of them could be yours—the thought alone sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. You could almost hear her gasps, see the way her nails would dig into the sheets, the way her lips would part in a silent scream as she was filled completely. The fantasy was so vivid, so real, that it ripped a moan from your throat, your cock swelling inside Nakyoung as your hips jerked involuntarily.

“Oh?” Xinyu’s voice was a purr, her fingers slowing as she caught the way your body reacted. “Someone likes that idea, don’t they?” She tilted her head, her smirk growing wider as she watched you. “Maybe next time, baby boy, you can be the one to help me out. Think you can handle that?”

You couldn’t respond, your mind too hazy with desire, but the way your cock twitched inside Nakyoung was answer enough.

“You’re distracting him!” Nakyoung’s hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips parted as she panted. “Focus, baby,” she urged. “I’m so close…Fuck, I want to feel you…all of you…”

Not to be forgotten, you felt Sohyun press deep into you.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” she growled, her thrusts never slowing. “You’re going to fill Nakyoung up like a good boy. Show Mommy how much you love her cock.”

The combination of their voices, their touches, their demands—it was too much. Your hips stuttered, your rhythm faltering as pleasure overtook you. With a cry, you came, your body trembling as you spilled yourself inside Nakyoung. She cried out, her own climax crashing over her as she held you close.

Sohyun didn’t stop, her movements slowing but still relentless as she rode out your high. 

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice soft now, almost tender. “So good for us.”

Xinyu let out a breathless sob, her fingers pulled from her own snatch and coated in her juices. “That was beautiful.”

Sohyun’s hands slid up your back, her touch gentle now as she leaned over you. “You did so well,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Her movements came to a slow stop, her body still pressed against yours as she held you close. “You worked so hard for this reward, baby boy. I’m proud of you.”

Her voice was soft, almost reverent, as she smoothed her hands over your skin, her touch soothing and grounding. “You took everything so perfectly,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. “Our good boy. Our perfect boy.”

“Fuck…”

You whimpered in response, your body still shaking from the aftershocks. Beneath you, Nakyoung seemed to be in a similar state of exhaustion. But even as that exhaustion threatened to pull you under, you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A few weeks later…

“Look at you, taking his cock so well, aren’t you?”

Sohyun’s voice was low and commanding, her hand resting lightly on Xinyu’s throat as she guided her movements. Xinyu was seated atop her, Sohyun’s strap buried deep in her ass, while you stood in front, filling her from the other side. Xinyu’s head was tilted back, her lips parted in a breathless moan as she took you both, her body trembling with the effort.

You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight—Xinyu, usually so playful and teasing, now completely at the mercy of Sohyun’s control and your rhythm. Her nails dug into Sohyun’s thighs as she rocked back and forth, her breath hitching every time you thrust into her. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, of gasps and whispered praises, and you felt a surge of pride knowing you were a part of this.

You couldn’t help but reflect on how that night had changed everything. 

Before, you had been the hacker, the mechanic, the one who kept their bikes running and their operations smooth. But now? Now you were something far more undefined, something deeper. You were theirs—not just a tool, but a part of their world in a way you hadn’t imagined possible.

And it wasn’t just your role in the gang that had shifted. In the bedroom, you had grown in confidence, learning to read their cues, to take control when they wanted you to, and to surrender when they demanded it. It was a dance, one you were still learning, but every moment with them felt like a step closer to mastering it.

“That’s it,” Sohyun murmured, her hand tightening slightly on Xinyu’s throat. “Take him just like that. Such a good girl for us.”

Xinyu’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours as she moaned. “Fuck, baby,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “You feel so good… so deep…”

Her words sent a tingle down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smirk, your confidence growing with every thrust. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, your hands gripping her hips as you guided her movements.

Sohyun let out a low laugh, her free hand sliding up Xinyu’s side. “Look at him,” she said, her tone dripping with approval. “Our little hacker, all grown up.”

The praise sent a rush of warmth through you, and you couldn’t help but lean into it, your thrusts growing more deliberate, more confident. Xinyu’s moans grew louder, her body tightening around you as she approached her climax..

“That’s it,” Sohyun encouraged, her voice a low purr. “Make her come for us, baby boy. Show her what you’ve learned.”

Sohyun didn’t need to tell you twice.

Your movements became harder, rougher, as you aimed to drive Xinyu toward her release. You had quickly learned that Xinyu, for all her teasing and bravado, was every bit the princess of the gang that she accused Nakyoung of being. Sure, she could be an active participant when she wanted to, but there was something about the way she melted under your touch, the way she begged and gasped, that made it clear she loved being taken care of just as much as she loved taking control.

“Look at her,” Sohyun purred, her hand still resting on Xinyu’s throat, her thumb brushing lightly against her pulse. “So greedy, isn’t she? Couldn’t even wait for Nakyoung to join us.”

You found Sohyun’s words amusing, a smirk tugging at your lips.

In the weeks since that first night, none of the three women had seemed keen on sharing you with anyone else in the gang. It was always the four of you, a closed circle of trust and desire. You weren’t complaining—far from it. But it was hard not to notice the way they kept you to themselves, as if you were their little secret.

There had been a moment, not long after that first night, when Nien and Yubin had approached you with flirtatious smiles and suggestive comments. You’d been flattered, of course, but before you could even respond, Sohyun had appeared out of nowhere, quickly causing the other girls to scatter.

“Fuck!”

Xinyu’s moans grew louder, breaking you from your thoughts. Her voice was more desperate, her body trembling as she neared her peak. 

“Please, daddy,” she gasped, her nails digging into Sohyun’s thighs. “Finish inside me…make me come…I need it, daddy, please…”

Her use of the word sent a jolt of heat through you, and you obliged, your thrusts growing faster, more urgent. 

“You love this, don’t you?” you egged her on, your own release teetering on the edge, “Taking me and Sohyun at the same time, stuffed full like the hungry little cock slut you are. You’re so good for us, baby. Come on, come for us. Let go.”

You could feel her tightening around you, her body on the edge, and with one final, deep thrust, you pushed her over. Xinyu cried out, her back arching as she came, her walls clenching around you in waves of pleasure. The sensation was too much, and with a groan, you followed her over the edge, spilling yourself inside her as your hips stuttered against hers.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of ragged breaths and the occasional shuddering gasp. Sohyun’s hand slid from Xinyu’s throat to her shoulder, her touch gentler. 

“Good girl,” she murmured,“You did so well.”

Xinyu could only nod weakly, her body still trembling as she leaned back against Sohyun, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

And then, as if on cue, the door swung open. Nakyoung stood in the doorway, a pizza box in one hand and her mouth half-open mid-sentence. 

“I hope you like pepperoni—” she started, before her words caught in her throat. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene: Xinyu still straddling Sohyun’s strap-on, your cock slowly slipping out of her as she caught her breath, and the general state of disarray that suggested exactly what had just happened.

For a moment, there was silence. Then Nakyoung’s voice cut through the room, sharp and incredulous.

“You started without me?!”

Sohyun let out a low chuckle, her hand still resting on Xinyu’s shoulder as she shot Nakyoung a tired but amused smile. 

“She couldn’t wait,” Sohyun said, her tone dry but playful.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your own smile mirroring Sohyun’s as you leaned back, catching your breath. Xinyu, still half-delirious from her climax, tilted her head toward Nakyoung and gave a lazy wave. 

“Hey, Naky~” she slurred, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Nakyoung sighed, shaking her head as she set the pizza box down on a nearby table. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched as if she were fighting a smile. “I leave for twenty minutes…”

As you watched the three of them—Sohyun’s calm amusement, Xinyu’s blissed-out grin, and Nakyoung’s mock exasperation—you couldn’t help but think that this life, chaotic and unpredictable as it was, wasn’t so bad at all.

[leriexoxo]

SEXUAL HEALING

pairing: Changbin x Afab Reader

tags: friends to lovers, 18+, mdni, protected sex, oral (f receiving), mild angst, spanking, rough sex, post break up, doggy

word count: 4k

summary: you had a crush on your coworker Changbin who was also your friend's boyfriend for the longest time, but you had quickly accepted that he was never going to be yours, that was until she broke his heart and ran off with another man, ghosting even you. Instead of letting Changbin wallow and lose himself, you take it upon yourself to make sure he forgets.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “Changbin, this is pathetic. It’s been 3 months. You need to stop this shit!” you scold irritably, arms crossed over your chest as you scowl at the mess of a man on the couch in front of you.

  “Would you leave me alone?” he snapped, glaring right back at you.

  “No,” you said harshly. “Just look at you. Its 2:00pm on a Wednesday afternoon and you’re moping and sitting on your couch wearing a t-shirt and boxers. You need to pull yourself together.”

He stared at you. “Would you get out of my apartment?”

  “I said no.”

If you were going to be honest, he had a good reason to be mildly depressed and a little touchy. But you always thought guys bounced back quicker from breakups than girls, and the fact that Changbin was still moping around 3 months after his girlfriend left him was more than a little concerning to you.

Changbin rolled his eyes and groaned, slinking lower in his couch. “I don’t know why you keep coming around here, it’s not like it’s made much of a difference.”

  “No difference? Please. A week ago, we were having this conversation when you were wearing nothing but boxers. I consider this a big improvement.” You crossed the room so you were standing over him.

  “Now put on some pants and come down to the cafe. It’s time to start living your damn life again. Chan says you can come back to work any time, and we’ve been short staffed all week.”

Not to mention you missed working with him. He was the only person you’d ever worked with that could always make you laugh and feel better about your generally shitty life. Not that you’d ever let him know that.

  “I don’t want to go back to the cafe,” Changbin grumbled. “What if she…” he trailed off, letting out a noise of pure frustration.

   “Nobody’s seen Hanna since she ran off with that weirdo,” you muttered, a little sore.

Hanna had been your best friend after you met working at Chan’s café for the last several months before she disappeared, she was a companion to gossip with while you cleaned the back room or locked up the cafe. When she’d started dating Changbin; the guy who got a job with you a few months earlier whom you’d always had a bit of a crush on, you’d been forced to live vicariously through her, hanging on to every story she had to tell about him.

Admittedly, some of those stories had made you more than a little sexually frustrated.

  “She could come back.”

  “She isn’t coming back, Binnie!” you burst out furiously, sick of everything. Sick of wanting him every freaking minute you spend with him. Sick of hearing him pining for a girl who had never been all that worth his time. “She’s gone! We are never going to see her again and you’re going to have to damn well live with that, and come to terms with the fact that sometimes shitty things happen and there isn’t anything we can do about them!”

Your outburst had the desired effect. He was standing up, something like anger flashing in his eyes. Good. You’d take anything over that pathetic kicked puppy act he’d been pulling for the last few months.

  “Don’t pretend like you know anything about what happened!” he spat, glaring down at you. “You have no idea what it’s been like—”

  “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be kicked to the curb?!” you demanded furiously. Damn. You hadn’t intended to actually get mad, but you were now. You were shaking, so pissed off.

How dare he say you knew nothing about how hard it had been for him?! “You think I don’t know what it’s like to give my heart to someone and have them stomp all over it?! What it feels like to be… to be abandoned, and abused?!”

That shut him up. You knew it would. Hell, it had been him who’d practically beat your abusive ex-boyfriend to a bloody broken mess when you’d come in to work with a black eye and a limp. Changbin had been the one to take you home with him that night and made sure you were okay, listening to you tell him how your parents had kicked you out at sixteen and the only reason you hadn’t left the man who enjoyed beating you for fun when he was drunk was because otherwise, you’d have been out on the streets. He had told you about how he grew up too, how he’d been abandoned by his family. But he had shrugged it off as though it were nothing even when you could tell it was something, and the next day he had helped you find an apartment you could afford in his building.

How could you not have developed feelings for him after that?

And even worse, how could he now have the audacity to throw that in your face?

Changbin looked slightly mortified with himself. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Fuck what you meant!” you shouted, getting mad at yourself when you felt tears welling up in your eyes and start to spill over your cheeks. It had been a long time since you were so frustrated to the point you had started crying.

You knew you could have just minded your business about his break up and his decline after, but you just couldn’t. it hurt you to see the man you fell for lose himself over someone who didn’t deserve him, you couldn’t stand by and watch.

  “You’ve been wallowing in all this self-pity, and I know it’s hard, okay?! I know it’s hard to forget when bad shit happens, and I know it’s hard to move on, but you just have to fucking do it!”

  “I… shit. I didn’t think you were gonna start crying,” Changbin says lamely, reaching out a hand to try wiping your cheeks but you shrugged away from it.

  “You know what, I don’t give a fuck anymore,” you muttered, wiping at your eyes and turning towards the door. “You can mope around your apartment forever. Ignore the fact that there are other girls out there who’d love to be with you. Don’t go back to work anymore while you still have the chance to go back, in fact you should stop paying your rent and get kicked out. I don’t care anymore.”

That was a big ass lie. You did care. You cared so much your heart hurt, but if you were going to leave Changbin alone like he wanted, you were going to make damn sure that you were angry when you left, it would make things easier that way.

You stormed to the door and yanked it open, but just as you were about to step through, his hand reached out from behind you and firmly shut it again. You spun around, preparing to scream at Changbin again, but all coherent thoughts left you as soon as he crushed his lips against yours, grabbing your wrists and pinning you to the door.

His mouth was hot and fervent, without hesitation you felt his tongue in your mouth, exploring every part of it. He nipped at your bottom lip, just a little too hard, catching it and pulling sweetly between his teeth before his mouth was on your neck as he sucked and bit at the sensitive flesh of your collarbone.

You let out a long, shuddery moan. “Binnie…”

He broke away, his hands finding their way under your shirt to squeeze your waist. “You think I haven’t known this whole time?” he growled lowly in your ear. “You’ve never been exactly subtle about the way you feel about me y/n.”

He pressed his hips into yours, and you could feel that he was half-hard already. He still had you pinned against the door rendering you powerless to stop him, as if you even wanted to.

You wanted more. More of his hot breath on your neck, more of his desperate hands exploring your body, more rough kisses to your skin.

  “If you knew then why didn’t you say something?” you asked on a breathy exhale, arching your face up towards his.

  “I just didn’t want to hurt you or myself, and I wasn’t certain until your little outburst”

  “I- hey!” You yelped as he grabbed the back of your thighs just below your ass and lifted you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips as he moved across the room towards his bedroom door.

Well, I guess there wasn’t really any other place for this to head, you thought briefly as he crossed over into his room and threw you down on the bed. You barely had time to recover before Changbin was on top of you again, his lips captured yours again in a hot kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as his hands found the hem of your shirt and slid under the fabric, up the soft skin of your belly until he reached your bra. He dragged it down just enough for your breasts to spring free and began to knead them, squeezing and rolling them around in his large palm, sucking at your neck again as his thumbs skimmed across your nipples.

You let out a high-pitched whine, and heard him chuckle. “You like that?” he breathed, intentionally flicking them both like the menace he was.

You jolted, and the response was met with a low hum of amusement before he was fisting the fabric of your shirt in his hands, pulling it up to expose your breasts but not all the way off. He directed all of his attention to your stiff, erect nipples, tweaking and pinching them until your back arched so far off the bed it was almost concerning. He grasped at the base of your spine, holding you there as his mouth closed down on one breast, and though you tried to hold it back a whimper still escaped.

You were not sure if it was a reward or punishment when he nipped at you, teeth dragging gently across your nipple before he sucked on it so intensely you squealed. Your other breast was still being worshipped by his free hand, tweaking and squeezing until your entire body was trembling and you were squirming under him. He shoved you back into the bed and switched breasts, taking the other in his mouth while directing the attention of his fingers to the one he just left.

  “Changbin,” you gasped when he pulled away to yank up at your shirt, you raised your hands to make undressing you easier. When he tossed it aside and wrapped his arms around you, he expertly undid the clasps of your bra in one impressive snap before pulling it off your arms until it joined your shirt on the floor. You in turn reached for the bottom of his shirt, but his hands grabbed your wrists, effectively halting your intentions.

  “Nope,” he whispered into your ear, and his hot, damp breath made you shudder. “Not yet. First I’m gonna give you exactly what you deserve.”

  “Come on,” you whined, but he grinned and crushed his lips against yours again, hands moving down to your waist. He brought his head lower, kissing the dip between your breasts, running his tongue down your belly and stopping when he reached the top of your jeans.

  “Hm. These gotta go,” he muttered, giving you a doggish grin as he worked at your zipper and pulled your jeans down. You lifted your hips to help him along, and he dragged them off completely, tossing them along with your other articles of clothing on the floor. He seemed desperate.

He brought his hand up between your legs, feeling your heat through your thongs and his grin grew wider. “A bit excited, are we?” he purred, pressing against you and kissing your neck.

You wished he’d let you take off his shirt. You wanted to feel his bare chest against yours, but he was quite adamant about undressing you while he remained clothed, and though you wondered what the punishment might be if you attempted again, you were a little distracted by the way he was tugging at your earlobe with his teeth, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh of your neck. His fingers were now tugging at the waistband of your thongs, struggling to slide them off.

He wasn’t waiting for your permission, you realized. Everything was coming off now whether you were ready or not, and you weren’t entirely sure you were. You had never been completely naked while your partner remained fully clothed. But Changbin was clearly in charge here, and he wasn’t going to compromise or reason. He was driving this, and he would do what he wanted.

So, you raised your hips again, making it easier on you both as he slid your thongs down and off completely. And just like that, you were totally naked before Seo Changbin. You certainly hadn’t expected this when you woke up this morning or when you barged into his apartment to bother him for the umpteenth time.

When Changbin sat up, you thought he was finally letting up and he would let you take his clothes off him, but as you tried shifting up to a seating position as well, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back into the mattress.

  “Stay put,” he growled, gripping one of your ankles and laying a kiss to the inside of it.

You let out a tiny moan as his hands traveled up, kneading the soft flesh of your calves and thighs, before forcing your legs open to spread wide for him, you were about to say something before suddenly feeling his fingers grazing your wetness, you threw your head back mewling like a feline, and as one slipped inside your satiny walls, all coherent thoughts fled your mind because fuck that felt amazing.

You heard the sound of his low chuckling before he buried his finger to the knuckle and curled it.

  “Oh my God…” You whimpered.

Keeping his finger playing around in your cunt, he lowered himself over you and kissed your cheek, trailing his pointed nose alone your jaw. “You’re so tight,” he breathed huskily, slowly adding a second finger making you moan even louder. Changbin ran his tongue from your jawline to the sensitive spot just behind your earlobe and whispered. “Makes it so hard to control myself.”

  “God, Binnie,” you gasped as he leisurely thrust his fingers in and out of you.

  “Tell me what you want?” he asked lowly, smirking. Your legs were shaking, your knees sweating, you were right on the edge, and you knew what he wanted from you. He wanted you to beg. Even as much as you hated begging, his sweet torture was becoming too much to handle.

  “I need to come,” you squeaked as his fingers thrust in again, deeper this time. Faster. “Please… oh, god…”

He complied, curling his fingers up ever so slightly and rubbing that spot inside of you that made the stars explode behind your eyes and your hips thrust forward into Changbin’s like he’d shot electricity through your body. It felt like you were falling, falling and falling off a cliff into a sea of pleasure, your breaths becoming short and shallow as you finally came undone.

As you clung onto your high for a few moments before reality began to take root again, Changbin pulled his fingers out and grabbed your breasts again, squeezing them more gently this time. “Good girl,” he purred, pinching your nipples.

  “Fuck,” you breathed, your chest heaving. That was the most powerful orgasm you could ever remember having.

  “You better not be checking out after one little orgasm,” Changbin smirked, as he leaned in to kiss you again. When he pulled away the gleam in his eyes was hungry. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You groaned, but only half-heartedly. “Can I take your shirt off now?” you pleaded, reaching for it again. His hands grabbed your wrists again, but this time they weren’t gripping so tight.

He looked teasingly contemplative. “Well… you did cum like a good girl, so I suppose you’ve earned yourself a treat,” he decided, releasing your wrists, and you eagerly tugged his shirt up over his head and off him, tossing it aside and placing your palms on his chest, fingers curling around his pecs.

You wanted to keep exploring, but he shifted away before pushing you back to the bed again.

  “That’s enough,” he breathed, hands going to your calves. You didn’t even have time to wonder what his intentions were before he lifted your legs so the backs of your knees are on his shoulders, and you could feel his hot breath over your core, agonizingly wonderful and you just want more—

When his lips met your wet cunt, your back arched so far off the mattress it shocked even you. He made a low sound of amusement and grabbed your hips, lowering them back as far as they could go with your legs on his shoulders, holding you in place as his tongue begins to explore.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, grasping at anything to anchor yourself because it felt so good that you had to be on the verge of floating away. You tried to buck your hips but he was too strong, and instead your legs began to tremble so violently.

You couldn’t form coherent words, and as Changbin’s tongue slipped inside, probing and digging into you, you let out a howl of pleasure. You couldn’t believe one of his neighbors hadn’t come pounding on the door with a noise complaint yet, but you couldn’t help yourself. It just felt far too damn good, and there was no way you could stay silent. You wondered how much louder you were going to get when he actually fucked you.

Your second orgasm was more powerful than the first, you’d never heard yourself make the kind of noise that ripped from your throat as you sky-rocketed to the highest point of pleasure you could have imagined – surely it couldn’t get better than this. The noise was guttural and breathy at the same time, somewhere between a moan and a scream, and as soon as it escaped, Changbin’s mouth was on yours again, effectively silencing you as you rode the waves of pleasure from your climax.

Changbin released your legs and sat back, watching as you recovered, looking a bit winded himself.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, grimacing. Your eyes traveled down to his boxers, and you could tell he was fully hard with half a glance.

  “Want some help with that?” you whispered, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you.

  “Turn over,” he commanded firmly, and you hesitated.

  “Why?” you breathed out shakily, a little frightened all of a sudden. Turning over meant you wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing anymore.

You let out a yelp as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over himself, pressing his chest to your back.

  “Don’t make me ask twice,” he growled in your ear, and you shuddered as his weight disappeared from your back. “Ass up,” he ordered.

Now you were scared. He wasn’t going to fuck you there, was he? You’d never taken anything up there before. You were not sure you could.

Apparently, the time you took to think was too long for Changbin, and you feel a light smack on your left ass cheek. You jolted. Did he just spank you?! Fuck, you’d never had that done to you before. And even more alarming was that it really turned you on.

He swatted at you again, a little harder this time. Just with enough force to make this one sting. “Up,” he repeated firmly. “On your hands and knees.”

If you hesitated again, it might have earned you another smack, and while you definitely wanted to explore that new fetish later, you were just too desperate to have him filling you up, stretching you to your limit that you finally obeyed, lifting yourself up so you’re poised on your hands and knees, waiting. You heard the soft rustle of fabric and knew he was pulling off his boxers, and then came the crinkle of foil and the sound of latex and you knew he was putting the condom on, the anticipation was driving you crazy.

Finally, you felt his hands, firmly grasping your hips, holding you steady as he lined himself up. You felt his tip at your entrance and you bit down on your lip because God, you had waited so long for this, and then in a single hard thrust, he slid in making you scream and bunch the sheets in your fingers, lowering your head to bite one of your knuckles. He remained still for a few seconds and you could hear his heavy, shuddery breaths as he basked in the sensation of just being inside of you.

And then he started to move. It was slow at first, easing in and out of you, but his pace quickened rapidly, especially when you started moaning his name. One of his hands moved from your hips to trace the ridge of your spine all the way up to your neck and then back down. You bucked your hips backwards into his, meeting every thrust, trying to help him go deeper to stimulate that sweet spot in you that you wanted him to reach so much. Occasionally he barely brushed against it and you let out a loud desperate moan.

  “God you’re so big Binnie… so full…” you cried, not really caring if his neighbor heard you.

He growled in his throat and pressed down in the center of your back, forcing your chest to the mattress. You bucked your hips up again, raising your ass higher in the air. He kept fucking you relentlessly hitting that oversensitive, aching spot repeatedly and everything was suddenly trembling limbs; you trying to reach behind you to push against his punishing waist and him pushing you away and fucking you even deeper as intense waves of pleasure, not once did he even slow down.

  “I’m so fucking close, shit!!” he growled.

He kept fucking you and it felt like you’re climaxing again and again and again with every thrust, you were pretty sure you were screaming his name but you couldn’t be absolutely certain with all the blood roaring in your ears, you could feel rather than hear his guttural moan by the deep vibration in his chest as he came and collapsed against you as he pulled out before rolling over onto his back, his chest heaving and his breathing shallow.

  “Jesus – fucking – Christ,” he groaned.

You flopped to your stomach, in a bit of a daze after that intense session of fucking. “You can say that again.”

  “Why did I ever waste my time with Hanna?” he muttered, and the question seemed so ridiculous to you that you giggled. He turned his head to look at you. “What?”

  “Glad to know a good fuck was the only thing you needed to get over her,” you grinned at him, rolling over onto your side so you can see him better.

  “Huh. Guess you were right. Just needed to move on,” Changbin flashed you the cheekiest smirk you’d ever seen and you nudged him with your hip.

  “I’ll blow you next time. Make you really forget everything,” you told him, and he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in his sheets.

  “Fuck me.” He groaned into the bed, realizing how truly fucked he was.

  “Oh, I intend to,” you teased, and he laughed and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled against your mouth, and you grinned and kiss him back, wondering how something finally went right. Maybe you were finally getting what you deserved after a lifetime of crap.

There definitely would be more of these healing sessions. Of that you had no doubt.

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Authors note: Hi guys! so, this Changbin fic had been sitting in my drafts for a few months now, I just touched it up and uploaded. I hope you like it!!

feel free to reblog and drop a like! also welcome to my new followers ;)

[felassan]

David Gaider on Flemeth, under a cut for length:

"I have a type. I admit it. There are certain wells I can return to repeatedly and always find something new to explore. One of them is older female characters. Mike used to rib me about it. Consider Wynne. Meredith. Genevieve. And, of course, the biggie: Flemeth. Why are they a type? I... don't know, honestly. I guess I have a feeling that older men fade, they strive to regain their youth or establish a legacy and we've seen that story a thousand times, but older women? They become free to become something new. I guess I see so many possibilities in that. I had a conception of who Flemeth was, and why, right from the very start. Her creation went hand in hand with Morrigan, as a being whose thirst for retribution hundreds of years ago attracted an entity (slight confession: I didn't know Mythal specifically, at the time, "an elven god" was enough). I also knew where Morrigan was right and very wrong about her. Misconceptions of the truth are built into DA's foundation, and they were fundamental to this mother-daughter relationship I was building. Like many seeds I'd put in the world, however, I had no idea whether I'd ever get to explore it. Knowing that she was a character of possible future importance, if not a major player in DAO, I wasn't much surprised when she was one of the first cuts the art team made in terms of getting a unique appearance. Thus the "batty old woman" players met in DAO. Not as hard a cut as the Qunari, though."

"Going into DA2, I wanted both Morrigan and Flemeth, but we could only have one. So I picked Flemeth. This was the game where she really got to come into her own. I remember the art team coming and asking if it was OK if she got a new model, as it'd be a retcon of sorts. I didn't care. I wanted it. I honestly don't remember whether Kate Mulgrew was cast before or after Claudia. After, I think? All I recall is that Cab came into my office one day and asked if Kate might be a good fit. Asked me, the dyed-in-the-wool Trekkie who had stuck with Voyager even through the admittedly lean years? The squeal I made was un-manly. Cab took that as a "yes". 😅 I didn't get to talk to Kate until DA2, however. Schedules being what they were, we had a tight window to record Flemeth... so I had to write all her scenes before almost anything else in DA2 was written, before I even had a team! Ack! It was OK, though, for the most part. I knew where I wanted to take her, and a big part of it was going to explain her transition - to set her up for the future. So I whipped up a script in, like, two days and off we went. Kate was a marvel in the booth. She adored Flemeth and you could really tell. I didn't get to meet Kate in person, however, until DAI. This came pretty late in its development, compared to when we recorded her for DA2, and we flew down to Virginia (to accommodate her schedule - she was writing her memoir at the time, I think) for a single session. It was going to be *tight*."

"I was a mess. I was finally going to meet Captain Janeway... and yes yes, I know she's also more than that. But come ON. When we sat down, I figured I'd have to talk her through the character all over again. It'd been years since that one session at the start of DA2, right? And even more since DAO. But, no. Kate remembered Flemeth perfectly. I remember sitting there as she told me how much she loved the character, how rare it was to get one with so much texture and possibility. She called out my writing - my writing! - and waxed poetic about how she viewed Flemeth's arc. I... I was floored. 🫠 Then we began recording. One issue that quickly reared its head was how Caroline had to speed through the lines if we hoped to finish. Kate was a trooper, and most takes she'd get it in one (which is rare), but I was alarmed because we weren't giving Kate time to read the VO comments on each line. I brought it up, as there were some lines (so much sarcasm) that required nuance - Kate was getting them, oddly, but I was worried. "Oh, it's fine," Kate said. "I read the comments as we go." "How could you? We're going so fast!" "I'm a speed reader." Oh. OK, then. That certainly explained it. 😁 We got to the confrontation scene with Morrigan and she nailed it. Over and over. More than once, Caroline would make a call and, before I could even interject and say "no, Kate had it right, actually" Kate would explain exactly why she did it that way and why it worked for Flemeth. I was in love. She did the "I will see her avenged!" section all in one go. I got chills. Then we got to the final scene. You know the one. With Solas. It was this beautiful moment. She took it somewhere quiet and sad... and when she got to that last line, we all felt it: Flemeth was dead. Everyone was in tears. I suppose I could talk more about the process. How she started off aligned with Morrigan's original Delirium inspiration, but I didn't pull back her loopy way of talking as much (bet you wondered). I still don't know why it was so easy to slip into her voice, but I'm grateful I got the chance. ❤️"

[source thread]

[russo-woso]

Wicked || Leah Williamson x actress!reader

Masterlist | Prompt list

Summary You spent hours practicing songs, Leah having to deal with it all but as soon as she saw it all come to life on the big screen, all she felt was pride

A/N I saw wicked today and immediately thought of this idea

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It's time to try defying gravity

I think I'll try defying gravity

And you can't pull me down

You sang the words with emotion, practicing the scene and lyrics like you were filming then and there.

But instead of in a studio practicing, you were at home, scrubbing a frying pan because you’d burnt it.

You were playing the role of Elphaba in the new and upcoming movie ‘wicked’.

It was a breakthrough role for you, due to being a relatively new actress so you had to be perfect. Hence why you were practicing with every free minute you had.

There was one song though that you’d been dreading, defying gravity.

It was slightly out of your vocal range but you were determined to nail it.

So because of your determination, you were singing it fifty times a day

Which was admittedly, helping you, but it was also driving your girlfriend up the wall.

Leah had always been your biggest supporter, helping you practice lines or lyrics but this time, the non stop singing was driving her crazy.

She understood though, and each time you sang it, a small smile would appear on her face.

“How was that, baby? Did I hit the note?” You asked Leah, who walked into the kitchen.

“You were perfect, darling. You always were with the song and even more so now. So can you please stop singing it?” Leah said, walking behind you’d wrapping her arms round your waist and resting her head on your shoulder.

“I have to sing it, Le. I have to get it perfect. Now, sing it with me.” You said, a grin appearing on Leah’s face as you belted out the song.

I'd sooner buy defying gravity

Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity

And you can't pull me down

Leah just watched you in amazement, your voice sounding angelic.

“Darling, that’s the thirty seventh time you’ve sung it today. Don’t you think that’s enough?” Leah asked

“Fine. Anyway, my throats hurting a bit now.” You said, Leah laughing in response.

“I’m not surprised.”

—

It had been three days since then and you had flown out to America to film the final few scenes of the film, including the song defying gravity.

You and Ariana finished the final notes, the whole set silent, every single crew member speechless and mesmerised at the song.

It was incredible, even you could admit it.

The movie was officially over, it was all done and wrapped.

You flew back to England the following day, Leah welcoming you with open arms, whispering how proud she was.

Now, it was time for waiting.

—

It wad finally happening. The premiere.

Your leg bounce up and down on the taxi floor.

“Darling, it’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna do perfect, I know it. Everyone’s gonna love the film.” Leah said before pressing her lips to your temple. “I’m gonna be with you the whole time too.”

“I love you, Le.”

“I love you more, pretty girl. Now come, the crowds waiting.” Leah grinned, opening the car door and holding it for you to get out.

You stepped on the red green carpet, the press calling your name, telling you to look at them.

You gripped Leah’s hand, Leah squeezing yours in return, the two of you doing simple poses for the cameras.

You made your way inside, calming down a bit.

You had a few conversations with cast and crew members before finally taking your seats, the lights dimmed and the screen lit up.

Leah was already so proud even before defying gravity but my god, she was overwhelmed with pride.

You sang the words effortlessly, hitting the notes you’d spent weeks working on perfectly.

Tears shelled in Leah’s eyes as she watched you on the screen, her emotions getting to her.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You whispered quietly, wiping her tears.

“I’m just so proud of you.” Leah sobbed

You just pressed your lips to her cheek in response.

The credits started rolling, cheers filling the room.

The director of the film quickly said a few words before calling you and Ariana up to say a few too.

Ariana went first, before handing the mic to you.

“Firstly, I just want to say thank you to the crew members, without you the magic wouldn’t be able to come alive. Ariana, a big thank you to you. You made the god awful night scenes speed by. However The biggest thank you goes to someone who’s been with me for my when career. Leah, you have had to endure the torture of hearing me belt song after song for weeks. Thank you, Le. Anyway, enough of the tears now. Let’s get the after party started!”

“I know you said no more tears, but I can’t help it. I’m just so so proud of you.” Leah said, wrapping you in her arms.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you for everything over the past few months.”

“Don’t say thank you. Now, do you feel like going to the after party?” Leah asked, a smirk on her face.

“Why? Have something else in mind?”

“Maybe…”

[slvtforoldermen]

Pedro’s Characters: The Dick-tionary

How big are Pedro Pascal’s characters and some NSFW headcannons

(WARNING: DETAILS OF PENISES AND TALKS OF SEX - MDNI)

Part Two <3

A/N: Sorry I never continued Fluff February :(, I lost motivation so I’ll just write them and post them as a prompt list for whenever…

Joel Miller:

Okay, all his characters are big, it’s a known fact, but Joel is 100% the biggest. Probably about 8.5 inches, with a pretty pink mushroom tip, and GIRTHY AGH! There’s a vein on it that is really visible when he’s hard. Oh and his balls are big too. Everything about Joel is just big. Not only is he big but you best believe he knows how to use it too. He’s got a daddy kink… Fav positions are missionary and cowgirl, however when he’s angry doggy or the mating press are a no-brainer. Daddy kink! DOMINANT!!! There’s no way this man is a sub, it just doesn’t work, he’s just so dom yknow, and when he’s soft, he’s the sweetest he’s ever been, but if he’s angry, hard dom Joel comes out and that’s a man you don’t wanna piss off if you wanna cum. He’s got such a daddy kink. “Fuck babygirl/boy, you’re so fucking sweet, sugar. So fucking good for daddy. Yeah baby? You like that? Such a good little girl/boy, so fucking sweet.” Daddy kink is such is a big thing for him. Hair wise? Well it’s the apocalypse so it’s probably hard to find the Manscaper 3000 or whatever. He trims his hair with some scissors, honestly he didn’t really care for shaving before you, so he just let it grow, but once when you were sucking him, you almost sneezed from how much it tickled your nose and made a little joke about it after, which made Joel feel a little bad so he cut them just a little shorter. Oh I’m sorry and did I mention… DADDY KINK!!!

Javier Peña:

(Here I’m purely writing about Javier Pena in a fictional sense AS PEDRO, not the real guy, this has nothing to do with the real Javier Pena)

Okay, Javier, my baby daddy. Um, who said that- ANYWAYS! Javier is probably the second biggest, in joint place with Oberyn, definitely about 7-7.5 inches, as he’s nicknamed by moi, the Pussy Slayer of Medellin. It goes without saying that Javier is rough, as we’ve seen, side note: I don’t know why I thought watching Narcos with my family would be a good idea… I was sat on the couch like “😀 okay, I’m watching Pedro have sex next to my mum, just a normal Saturday morning…” anyways back to it (hehe Negan reference) but Javier is rough, doggy and cowgirl are his favourite positions, but sometimes when he’s feeling a little somber he likes a little missionary. As how domestically-kinky I like my men, I’m a little disappointed that Javier isn’t a committed man, but he does have a tiny 🤏 breeding kink, he defo isn’t a fan of being called daddy, in fact just call him Javi and he’s yours, and he’s dom obviously. “Oh carino, you take my cock so well, you good little whore… fuck… my sweet little angel.” I mean, we’ve all seen his hair, so do we really need address it, that also might genuinely be my fav sex scene in all of cinema history.

Oberyn Martell

Okay, admittedly, I haven’t seen any proper scenes of Oberyn, because I’ve just started GOT, so I have no clue what his character is like apart from being a HUGE BISEXUAL SLUT, so he’s just like me 🤭

Oberyn, tying with Javier, is about 7-7.5 inches, and I feel like his cock is definitely a lot more tan than others, idk why, it’s just an instinct. Defo uncircumcised. His fav positions are definitely cowgirl OH and dude is the literal definition of a pillow prince, again, just like me. Suck his dick, please, just suck his dick. Again, I don’t know how he’s presented in GOT, but I’m like 74% sure he’s dominant? From the clips I’ve seen 🫣 Hair wise, do razors exists in the GOT world? Or does my man just shave himself with a sword.

Javi Gutierrez:

Oh my sweet baby Javi… he’s so kinky. I’m fully convinced he’s into full BDSM, not so much where he has to do it every single time, but maybe like once a month. When I was watching TUWOMT for the first time, when Nick is about to go into the room with all his merch and stuff, I was dead convinced it was gonna be a sex dungeon. There’s no way a man is this sweet and adorable without being into some freaky shit.

Anyway, Javi is about 6.5 inches, with a sweet pink tip and he’s definitely a giver not a taker, don’t get him wrong, he ADORES you with his dick in your mouth, but he prefers to eat you out/suck your dick for hours on end. Oh and he’s a sweet talker, when you guys aren’t being full kinky, he’ll praise you to hours on end, mumbling in your ear how good you are in that sexy accent of his. Is a little bit of a switch, but mostly dominant, soft dom if it’s a normal night but if it’s that special night, only your safe word will pull him out of hard dom space. Definitely the type to overstimulate you in a sweet way “you can take it right sweetheart? Mi amor~ just take my cock nice and good, ahí tienes.” Um, daddy kink for surely, but not like every single night like Joel. But when he’s between your legs, and he’s stimulated you so far into sub space, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, and you’re reaching up for him, babbling how good his cock feels in your hole, he can’t help but coo down at you and praise you so hard. He’s not bald, but his hair isn’t long, just trimmed to the point where it tickles your nose when you suck his cock.

Din Djarin

Okay, so I think it’s canon that Din hasn’t really ever felt human touch, so I feel he’s really inexperienced… but the dude’s got a pretty dick. Like it’s just so… pretty. About 6 inches with a sweet baby pink tip, he’s so sensitive too. He loves head but he really can’t say it, he’s just too embarrassed. I just get the vibe that he’s mostly subby. He tried to be dom once but the poor baby couldn’t handle it all. But then he tried again and he did so good, but it tired him out, so if he’s domming, which is once in a blue moon, he’s going to be soft, maybe even softer than Javi. Mommy/Daddy kink!! “Please, I’m good right? Please, please tell me I’m doing good… you always feel so so good, I love you so much.” Please, he’s so sweet I love him. It’s rare that you guys get off together because of reasons due to his upbringing and stuff so he just likes being taken care of, the sweet boy. Before you, he never really cared for shaving, so when you first strip together, he’s a little nervous about it, and then after that he trims it, quite short.

Marcus Moreno

If anyone says this man is a hard dom they’re just kidding themselves, this man is the sweetest man out there, obviously not as much as Din ofc <3.

Marcus has an obsession with using his hands, making you cum just by fingering you. Then when he’s inside you, he slips his fingers into your mouth, or around your neck, or on your cheek. His dick is about 7 inches, and like everyone else, knows how to use it perfectly. Angel is one of his favourite nicknames to call you. “My perfect Angel, taking my cock so good baby…” whilst hes thrusting into you ever so gently. Would never EVER do it when Missy is around, so quickies before picking Missy up from school are his go to, but he loves the days where his mom can take her out for the day or even a grandma sleepover so he can be with you for hours. You under him, over him, him inside you, his good girl/boy, his good angel. Pleasuring you until you get numb. The armpit hair in the scene of the gif gets me and idk why, I have never had a thing for armpit hair but maybe I’m just really horny, but his hair down there is nice and trimmed, not bald, never bald.

Tim Rock(Hard)Ford

Here we go…

Oh Tim man! I have a teensy 🤏 detective kink so when Pedro played this role it was over for me.

Maybe it’s the greying, like Joel, but I feel like he’s huge, just like Joel. He’s 8 inches, living his best life. But he’s just a tired old man, so when he gets home, please just get on your knees for him, he’ll just lay there, stroking your hair, praising you, telling you how good you suck his cock. Then he’ll bring you up to the bed and return the favour, making sure to always get you to tell him about your day as he does so. Saturday nights are always his favourite time to rail into you, he’s had the whole day off, just resting, watching you walk around, getting him so worked up. He has a domestic kink. So seeing you do chores get him so hard. Loves fucking between your thighs when you’re sleeping because he gets home so late and just needs a little relief, but you look so cute and peaceful while you sleep and because he’s so considerate, he doesn’t wanna wake you. “So good for me baby, so good for daddy, gonna fill you up, you’re not gonna let any of my cum slip out right, gonna keep it all in your tummy, yeah, that’s it, cum for me.” TALKS YOU THROUGH IT!!! Sleeps naked. Not trimmed, not shaved, just grows it out, he’s old so he doesn’t care, it’s not like anyone but you would be seeing him like this anyways.

Dieter Bravo

I love Dieter, he’s so cute.

Not dom, but not sub either, just dom enough to see you break under him but sub enough to whimper and get soooo desperate. Such a huge pillow prince, he loves it when you suck him, especially when you grab his balls and caress them, he cums so quick when that happens. He’s about 6.5 inches, and it loves fast, not as in quickie, but he loves seeing you fall apart as he jackhammers into your hole. When you ride him he gets so sweet, and he can last long, don’t worry, but you just look so pretty on top of him, he can’t help it, please don’t be mad at him. Has a thing for dry humping, especially in the morning when he’s too lazy to move properly. “So good baby, oh yeah, fuck, grind against me just like that, mmmf fuck…” loves to beg and watch you beg, he’s so good to and for you, don’t doubt him ever. He doesn’t shave, he trims it, but he’s so goofy, so once he shaved it into a heart.

[winged-self-indulgence]

Oh my god I finally wrote it. This idea bit me and then wouldn't leave. POV is in 2nd person but it is written with my female Unnamed!MC in mind. Summary: You attempt to go shopping without Leander.

You're embarrassed to say that you didn't notice your new reputation until Ais almost had to spell it out of for you.

It was the middle of the day, and while the spring weather meant that it was not particularly hot, the sunlight beat down on your brow like a stern mother chastising you for leaving the house without a hat. At least you had your cloak, though that was more out of necessity than anything else.

Your fingers twisted beneath the fabric, out of sight and - most importantly - out of harm's way. The mid-week market was too rowdy and crowded for you to trust the thin wrap of your bandages.

Ais found you at one of the stalls. Even without your Sight recoiling at the anomalous entity clinging to the demon's soul, you would have noticed his approach long before he reached your side. Thickly muscled shoulders pushed their way between the bustling mob of shoppers, hawkers, and opportunistic pickpockets until he reached your side.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Sparrow," Ais said in lieu of a greeting. The angle of his shadow shaded you nicely from the sun, so you reluctantly allowed the man to loom over your shoulder like a particularly nosy umbrella as you carefully perused the stall's selection. The throaty laugh that escaped him made you flush, as did the low comment of, "Oh? Cute."

"What? I'm just getting some cake," you replied archly. "It's not a big deal."

"Ah, but not just any cake, Sparrow. Madame Yasmina's orange blossom cakes," Ais pointed out.

You bit your bottom lip, deliberately not making eye contact as the shopkeeper wrapped your sticky-sweet confection in oil-paper to prevent the golden syrup from dripping onto your hands. Then she pulled out a much larger box tied in sage-green ribbon.

"You're the oracle staying at the Wick, right?" It had the cadence of a question but the woman didn't wait for you to answer before handing you the distressingly fancy container. "This is for your boss, dear."

"What?" You quickly wrapped your hands around the box. Whatever was inside probably cost more than you made in a month if not more. "My boss? I don't-?"

Your questions went unanswered as the woman had already moved on to the next customer, and you were forced to retreat by the press of hungry shoppers. Bemused, you sighed and placed your cake in you satchel, careful that it wouldn't be squashed by your admittedly meagert possessions. Then you hurried off to visit the rest of the market.

You'd almost forgotten about Ais, and if you'd thought the demon would leave you alone afterwards, you were sorely mistaken. Whatever business he had come into the city for, that had been put on hiatus in favour of trailing after you on your shopping trip.

"I see Leander's upgraded from paying for your room to funding your sweet tooth," he noted, his long legs keeping up with you with ease. "I guess it was only a matter of time."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you retorted in a clipped voice. "I bought this myself. The cake, I mean. I don't know anything about the box."

"Is that so?" Ais's brows were raised in clear surprise. They quickly lowered as he tilted his head. "I did wonder why you were here alone. He finally let you out of his sight for the afternoon, huh?"

You huffed. "He didn't let me do anything. I wanted to go to the market, so I went to the market."

You covertly did not mention that you hadn't actually told Leander about your plans, and had also chosen to sneak out only after you'd seen him leave the Wick. If the barkeeper had been telling the truth, Leander was currently settling some business in another district and wouldn't be back until sundown.

It wasn't out of fear mind you, only that...honestly you didn't understand Leander. It was one thing to offer to cure your curse out of the goodness of his heart, and it was one thing to offer you free food and accommodation as part of that charity, but it was another to essentially appoint himself your de facto...benefactor, for lack of a less salacious word.

It had been fine for the first few days, when the only thing you wanted to do was shower, sleep, eat, and then sleep some more. It had been somewhat manageable when he'd proceeded to show you around the city and insisted on buying suspiciously shiny trinkets to commemorate your time together. By the time you'd started finding gloves, jewelry, and dresses by the door you'd put your foot down.

"Are you sure?" Leander had asked when you'd demanded he return the - admittedly gorgeous - cheongsam. He held it out invitingly, the deep emerald fabric shimmering under the warm candlelight. Gold embroidery traced the delicate outline of flowers along the hem. "Have you tried it on?" "No, and I'm not going to," you'd folded your arms across your chest, trying not to look too long at the silky waterfall of fabric. You'd never seen anything so gorgeous, let alone worn it. "I don't need it." His eyes had softened, and you'd flinched at the kicked-puppy-dog expression that crossed his handsome face. “It's not about need. I just thought...well...you're always taking care of yourself, but when’s the last time you let someone take care of you for a change?”

Though your heart had fluttered, you had still turned down the dress (and the matching necklace and earrings). Leander's generosity was appealing, but you hadn't traveled this far to fall into the arms of the first man with more money than wits. It was one thing to swindle a rich lech who thought the pretty fortune teller was interested just because he'd pulled The Lovers tarot, it was another to take advantage of the cheerful green-eyed mage trying to save you.

A heavy arm landed around your shoulders, and you nearly dropped Leander's package in your attempt to stay balanced while hiding your bandaged fingers. Ais leaned over you, grinning brightly. "Well, since the dragon finally let the princess out the tower for a minute, wanna see the sights with me?"

"Didn't you come here for something important?!" You asked, but Ais was already propelling you down the street.

"It can wait. I smell skewers."

"Where?!"

Ten minutes later the two of you were purchasing sticks of tender chicken, grilled and spiced to perfection. You blinked in confusion when the shopkeeper passed you an extra stick and a paper cup of hot pepper flakes.

"You're the one staying at the Wick, right? Tell Leander it's on the house."

"Uh, thank you?" You hadn't even had to ask for the extra spice. Ais grumbled something under his breath and badgered you until you handed over half your skewer.

That wasn't the end of it. At every stall you visited, and even some you didn't, you were offered items for free or heavily discounted. All the time with some mention of Leander. By late afternoon you were utterly befuddled and would have been laden down if Ais hadn't charitably offered to hold the heavier items in return for some pork strips.

"Princess loves these."

"Then why are you eating them?"

"I like them too."

You sat down on one of the wooden benches lining the edge of the fountain. Since most people were either at work or at the market, the center was unusually quiet. Ais sat down next to you, his large body instantly occupying most of the space, especially when he flung his arms across the back. He and Leander were alike in that way, you noted. The green-eyed man often did the same thing.

"Shoes are nice," Ais commented.

"You like them?" You stretched out one of your legs, admiring the thigh-high boots you'd purchased. Along with the cake, these had been your main reason for braving the mid-week horde. You'd been saving up to buy a new pair, but the slashed price had certainly helped.

There had also been a pair of gloves - black and stitched with gold geometric patterns - but you'd settled on the boots as the more pressing and less flashy option. Bandages and a cloak had worked up 'til now, but you couldn't walk the muddy streets in your old boots that were falling apart at the soles and seams.

Ais smirked, scarlet eyes flashing with something you were too late to catch. "Oh yeah. Real pretty, Sparrow. Though, I have to wonder if your boss would be happy seeing you flaunt it around me."

You groaned and rolled your eyes. "For the last time, Leander isn't my boss. Just because I tell fortunes at the Wick, that doesn't mean I work for him."

"Sure, but frankly that's the less embarrassing explanation for your reputation," Ais reached into one of his pockets and retrieved a cigarette and lighter. A flash of gold flame, and then gauzy grey smoke drifted from his lips, carrying the sweet scent of anise and cloves. He glanced down at you and saw the bemused look on your face. "Oh wow, you really don't know? He must have you on a pretty tight leash."

You bristled at the wording. "I don't go out much. There's no point." Not only did the number of people filling Eridia hurt your Sight, you also didn't want to accidentally hurt anyone. At least with Leander, you didn't have to huddle and hide. "What are you talking about?"

"Shouldn't you know better than me what the people in Lowtown call you nowadays?" Ais leaned down, his words coming out in a low, private murmur. "The pretty thing that wandered into Eridia and into the Bloodhound's nest. Leander's little oracle."

You shoved yourself away, gaping up at the monster. "I'm not...-! I don't-!"

"You don't what?" Ais tilted his head. "Don't tell fortunes from the Bloodhound's unofficial headquarters? You aren't sleeping there free of charge? You haven't been seen hanging on pretty boy's arm by multiple people on multiple days? He hasn't been trying to buy you fancy clothes?"

"I told him to stop doing that last part," you covered your face with your palms, causing your next words to come out muffled. "And he was just showing me around Eridia! In case you forgot, I'm still kind of new here!"

"I know, which is why it surprised me to hear," he turned his head to puff out a circle of smoke. Ais suddenly stiffened and the next billow of smoke slid between fanged teeth bared in a grin. To your surprise, the demon rose to his feet. "Some advice, in return for the skewers. There are more eyes on you than you think, little Sparrow."

"What are you talking about?" You asked, but Ais was already walking away, trailing sweet smoke all the way. You barely had time to wonder what all that meant when another equally large man fell into the space next to you, this time smelling of expensive cologne.

"I thought I'd find you here," Leander grinned down at you, eyes dark and crinkled at the corners. "You didn't tell me you wanted to go shopping. I would have postponed today's meeting."

You let Leander lead you back to the Wick, your bandaged arm looped around his. Your fingers rested lightly on his bicep, oh so aware of the watching eyes that followed you all the way to bar and even up the stairs to your bedroom.

On the mattress lay a pair of gorgeous, ink black gloves. Struck through with gold filigree and stitched with geometric lines.

[vyzz-undercover]

im insane have a few kilos of:

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6,600ish words) (please fucking sedate me)

{i dont usually write in whatever perspective having a 'you' in this sort of context is, so forgive any oopsies besties!!!}

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•pisspoor cliche of 'oh no you're freezing haha body warmth eh?' trope

•mr. sicarius' insufferable ego

•tumblr's dogshit formatting from phone notes to the app

———————————————————————————————————

super special thanks to all the writers im too much of a spineless coward to actually @ because i only ever lurked on anon asks on old main for, like: moodymisty, mothiir, lemon-russ, the-raven-lady, scriberye and many others. you're all the unknowing reasons why i made an alt to post this, cheers for your amazing works and ideas!!! :3

———————————————————————————————————

It was doomed from the start, honestly.

Not to say he had any hope that an assignment would ever actually go easily for once.

It's supposed to be an apparently simple diplomatic procedure. Namely, you get to stand around, run your ambassadorial trap and bat your lashes and trollop about in front of pompous baseline fools. While he, Cato Sicarius, stands at attention in pissy formal wear; pretending like he's not a hair-breadth from an aneurysm watching it all take place.

Oh, and not to forget the brother who's a head taller than him, in full plate, and isn't being held to a standard of mock-humility.

He realises belatedly he's forgotten the Primaris' name. That shouldn't happen. He never used to forget things. Eidetic memory shouldn't let him. He shouldn't be able to—or, well—maybe his subconscious deigned it unimportant and emptied it out the proverbial airlock of his mind. It was admittedly largely inconsequential. He'd been told, surely. He remembers he was a Sergeant of some sort from his markings. He also remembers being gawked at by the Primaris, borderline felated by eyes alone. He's Cato Sicarius, afterall. Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of Ultramar—of course he'd been inspiring awe. But for some warp-damned reason, alongside all those great titles, his Father'd decided to add Master Babysitter of His Ambassador to the list. But Cato does doesn't let it bother him. He's always got better things to occupy his time. Like furiously glaring at you across the thunder-hawk, even if you'd been dead-set on counting the rivets in the floor plating.

You'd looked absolutely idiotic in an Astartes troop seat. Like a toddler in an adult-sized wheelchair, draped in furs that seemed a size too big; hiding a dress that looked a size too small.

Simply put, the entire assignment was to be an event in circle-jerking—until shit hit the fan with all the painful similarity of a Nurgling thrown headlong into a thruster engine.

To begin with, it was a trap—a trap where he's separated from brother-Sergeant 'whatever-the-fuck-riel' in the commotion and responding bolter fire. That'd left Cato pointedly responsible for evacuating you, the useless little chatterbox, by the scruff of your fuzzy coat through side halls.

On another note, of all the accursed biomes, he hates tundras the most.

Pointedly, it's exactly what seventy percent of this backwater, shit-hole planet is this time of year; whereas the other thirty percent is glacial mush.

He discovers firsthand just how much sloshy ice-water there is to be found as he kicks in a shutter door and gets doused for the first time of many to follow; only to vault from the eastern rampart. Sliding down a long, raised and sleet covered run-off canal that passed over the keep's lesser residential rooftops with you in his grasp.

Melt water soaks you both as he scrambles fights to a halt on the steep decline before the drop off. Wobbling balancing on the edge for a second before he manages to scud back up and down a side chute, worming through the raucous hellscape of filthy baselines and too-tight alleys into the scrappy frozen wilds.

There was little time to hesitate when he decides breaking into a dead-sprint with a soggy ambassador thrown over his shoulder's the modus operandi of the situation.

He didn't stop until he was at least fifteen clicks away, or rather—he only stops when he's able to recognise a spot to hide and await for emergency evacuation.

A half-standing shack. Probably some peasant's hunting hovel. Clearly in poor condition, and honestly, a cave would've been preferable—but he isn't about to pass up the opportunity.

The door doesn't even swing open when he nudges it with his elbow. No, it falls inward, because of course it does, and he grumbles belatedly when it thuds.

The inside of the structure is a damnable mess, but, at the very least, it's dry.

He moves to tug you off his shoulder and toss you onto a pile of rags in the far corner, but he hesitates periodically. Even through his own wet outer attire, he can tell very little body heat is coming off you. His hearing catches on the way your breathing labours below the incessant chatter of your teeth.

Some wretched part of him implores he let you down carefully next to the nested mess of dirty cloth; and for once, he acquiesces to granting mercy.

You curl up into a ball on the floorboards almost immediately.

In his eyes, you're the pict of some drowned rat. The fur coat you'd been wearing over your dress is just as soaked through as everything else. Your hair is full of small, frozen rivulets at the ends, mixed in with powder snow and ice; and all the while, you're whining softly and trying to coil tighter into a fetal position.

He's trying very hard not to just stand there and dumbly listen to your little noises of weakness like a salivating dog.

Instead, Cato turns and lifts the door back into place against the frame; then he activates the honing beacon on his belt.

No latency pings, no close contact.

He grumbles again, eyeing your shivering form over his shoulder begrudgingly.

He hates you.

He hates that he's the one who's responsible for you.

The fact he is also currently out of his power-armour because of this charade only makes him even more irate, impossibly.

Sure, he has his combat bodyglove on under the tacky regalia, but it's no real consolation. He'd feel a lot better if there was a couple extra hundred kilos of plasteel and ceramite on him.

He could've had his armour on, had someone else been the one to babysit you.

He would have preferred anything but sole custody of your wretched, annoying existence falling on him. But because he's the only competent Astartes around ninety percent of the time, and you're the root of all problems—it means he's the only one who's capable of handling your stupidity. He can't even imagine letting anyone else do it. You'd probably deafen Trajan with your yapping if he was in his stead. Or Prabian. And if Titus had watch of you, you two'd probably be—ugh, he won't even dignify the thought. He can't believe the man'd been Captain of Second Company, or how or why Agemman gave the captaincy to him. He understands why Titus'd been struck from most records aside from high clearance. To say nothing of the fact that one would think being a Blackshield for a century would humble someone. But no, it seems crossing the Rubicon Primaris gave him his balls back.

Cato had almost flown into a blind rage when he'd heard him jokingly warning about rough weather to you on the embarkation deck the last time you'd been in each others general vicinity—because oh, of course Lieutenant Titus is suddenly a subsector-renowned fucking comedian as soon as you're there. Cato ought to subpoena the dribbling Inquisition like that little snake Leandros did. See how Titus'd like a real stage to perform on again. Maybe they'll have a new rendition of the cunted Rubicon Primaris to piece his sorry fat-arse back together once more by then. But he won't. He won't because Marneus would sulk, and Cato would feel bad. Plus, Cato's infinitely more likely to kill an Inquisitor than help one. But you—you little skank—you find Titus so funny. Hiding a giggle behind your hand, pretending to look demure and professional despite your wretched nature.

Why don't you smile at him like that?

You would be the death of him.

It was always all because of you. Every single time. Because you're so useless in any situation that can't be rambled out of. Which is all of them when you're involved, in Cato's opinion. His Father should leave the talking to professionals who wouldn't break a hip from a smack on the rear.

But now you are going to die of hypothermia, like a typical, pathetic little baseline—well, unless you start following his orders.

Cato tries not to think of how you were acting when rounds started going off earlier. Of course, like a spooked animal, you'd been all ears to his commands then. Hiding against him with your hands pawing at the side of his dress uniform as bullets careened across the dining hall, looking up at him with those big, terrified, caught-in-the-crosshair eyes—and, Throne, it had been so easy to pick you up. You were so soft flimsy, he could fling you around like a rag-doll if he really wanted. Manhandling you would be a singlehanded venture. He's liable to just hoist you up whenever you think yourself bold enough to bother him next. Grab you by your uniform's scruff and just pin you against a bulkhead, you'd be bent at the perfect height to—no—no, no.

Abruptly trying to distract himself, Cato draws his blade from it's ceremonial sheath and activates the disruption core, trying to stoke some sort of heated spark as he drove it into the fireplace.

He brutishly nudges it amidst the old wood and long dim coals. It isn't his finest moment of critical thinking, but it seems to be working; seeing as a few weak embers sputter to life.

Gratingly, he's aware that even a servitor would've known starting a fire in hostile territory was a fool's surest way at getting caught—but he has no other choice. Either he acts the moron and plays his poor hand, or you die from the shock of your chill; and if that happens, he'll have to face his Father's wrath.

And Guilliman would have his left testicle as a paperweight if you died under his watch.

In conclusion, if Cato is to choose between stupidity and complete failure, he's opting for stupidity. Which aggravatingly felt like an ongoing occurrence, ever since you started existing anywhere near him.

He reaches for your soggy swaddled form, and tugs.

Even practically hypothermic, you've still got enough of a two-faced-bitch's spirit hidden away in you to hiss and swat at him blindly. So much for his Father's claims you were of 'sweet, kind temperament.'

For a moment, he genuinely wants to throttle you for the outburst; but he swallows down the urge.

"You need to get out of those," he snaps, glowering down at you. "Or you are going to die."

Your response is a poignant little groan as you glance dizzily around the room.

Cato huffs, "There are blankets beside you, fool."

He holds up a dingy plaid throw, half fraying and stinking of stale mould. It was an assault on his vomeronasal organ, but he wasn't about to let you act the typical spoiled cunt routine of an Imperial ambassador. He would have you wrapped in it sooner rather than later, wether you liked it or not. You dying reflects poorly on him, afterall.

"T-T-Turn, p-p-please—" you say, but your stammering mangles the words into a juddering mess.

He growls, almost tempted to snarl something about 'the fucking audacity in thinking you can tell him what to do—' but acquiesces out of sheer force of will and pivots on his heel, settling into a martial line stance.

Cato can hear you struggling to wriggle free of your clothes. The whines of effort and heavy breathing, to say nothing of the almost comedic slop sound one miscellaneous article makes as it hits the rotted wooden floorboards.

Even if he's taking it to his grave, he's admittedly itching to look over his shoulder.

It's a completely degenerate urge.

But he's—he's wanted this. He's wanted this exact opportunity.

He's got it, now.

You're alone with him.

Nothing and nobody to distract or detract from your attention finally being all on him.

You make a fey little groan, and he takes that as a signal you're finished.

He rounds about-face, and, for lack of a better word, ogles the shape of your covered form.

You've dragged that pile of rags closer to the meagre fireplace, lying on it with the plaid blanket strewn over the top of you.

Even completely hidden beneath, he can see you are still shaking under the ratty thing. Even moreso than before, in all actuality. He supposes that's a good sign. It proves your feeble body is still well and keen on living.

But the suffocating concept you're bare weak, soft useless and needing pathetic underneath that scrap of fabric worms its way into his brain like a cancer.

He grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches.

Tearing his gaze away, he finds the embers his blade coaxed are a small flame eating away at the old timber now.

Looking back, your shivering's subsiding, but your rapid breathing is increasing; which is surely not good.

He has an idea, which definitely isn't influenced by depravity at all—shut up.

Cato tries for a moment to actually unbutton his attire. His fingers are too large, unsurprisingly. And with the body-suit, he's got no leverage of a nail or two to do away with the dainty fasteners. So, ultimately, he tears the regalia down the front, sending buttons flying—and continues to pry and rend the sopping garments off his arms and legs until they're a pile at his feet.

Then he sets about a more strenuous matter. He releases the locking mechanism at his clavicle, and promptly undoes the thick claps over his pectorals so he can pop free the catches beneath, peeling the layered material back and shucking his arms and hands loose of their constraints.

The top of his bodyglove hangs around his hips now, and he sighs. The chill is of no real annoyance to him. He's built to endure most conditions. Sure, it's cold—but Astartes run hot. And right now, he's boiling for so very many accursed reasons.

He settles on his side next to you and scuds himself to bracket the pile of fabric.

"Move closer," he bites out.

He tries not to groan when you actually do, and surprises himself when he manages to stifle the sound. Even through the blanket, he imagines his warmth is a welcome change to freezing.

"T-Thank you," you say softly, soaking in his body heat like a banal reptile under a sun's rays.

He likes hearing timidity on your lips.

He supposes it stems from his habit of humbling you. The opportunities are unsurprisingly plentiful. He often finds enjoyment hearing you back-pedal when he would cut you down for so much as genially inquiring on Astartesian discussions. Putting himself in the middle and shutting you out, even if you were welcomed in them prior to his arrival.

If you want to ask something of his Brothers, it'll be his answers.

All it ever took was a growl and a curt reminder to know your place. Then you'd fumble and take two steps back. Snipped down to size as you ought to be. Forced to suffer an ounce of the shame he feels. Oh, and then your big doe-eyes'd cast down at Cato's ceramite boots, fussing; trying to apologise to him.

In truth, it's adorable pathetic to watch.

You look so hurt.

It's an act, he's sure of it.

You play at being difficult to anger, and that makes you just that bit more grating. You've unknowingly caught him with an unfair advantage. One that his prowess as a statesman and a warrior cannot seem to scratch. He's always left feeling robbed in your presence. In a way that furiously giving in to the alien urge of palming himself afterwards doesn't ever fix. He's toey and irked to be excluded when you talk to other Astartes, but simultaneously darkly glad that you shy from such antics with him.

It's paradoxical, yes. But no, he's not a hypocrite. Though some part of him is scolding him for being one. No, he's aching to sink his proverbial claws into you—though he won't ever say it to a soul. He won't because he knows he's not supposed to have tastes such as this. A pit in his gut taunts that the stint he'd suffered in the Warp is to blame. But he's the commander of Roboute Guilliman's Victrix Guard. He is not aberrant. The sidelong, fraction-of-a-second glances Cato receives from his Primarch when you enter his office to give briefings surely mean nothing.

It's clear why you have his Father's favour, but he'll never admit that either. Aside from Guilliman's desperation to find baseline company for some strange reason. You're surely just a pet to him. Like a small rodent he pries off a little wheel and sets out in a clear sphere to roll about on the bridge, or something.

To say nothing of his brothers' behaviours.

They won't show it in a group, but he knows the Astartes beneath him preen at your every query.

It's complete lunacy.

It's heresy.

You must have somehow beguiled them all, just like you've done him.

But you're still right there—right where he wants you.

And damn it all, does he want you.

He wants—he wants you on your front, squirming underneath him. No, wait, he wants to see you—but then you'd need to be on top. He can watch, like that. Then afterwards he'll have you on your back, perhaps. Why not sideways? You're already like that, now. Or—or... who's he kidding, he'd take anything, and everything.

Throne, he's so hard he swears he is going to have a brain haemorrhage. He feels like he's already had one, honestly, for all his thoughts are hazing. It's a million leagues worse than the time you'd accidentally called him 'Lord Sicarius' by accident instead of your usual choice of 'Commander' and Throne, he'd rubbed himself raw after that.

Maybe if you weren't such a whorish little wretch, his fantasies wouldn't be running so rabid right now.

You wriggle and your half-covered back slides up against his front.

Cato's never held himself stiller in his life.

Your skin feels like fine silk to his spiralling mind; and even worse, your damnable wriggling doesn't stop. You start making little movements with your feet to try to get circulation back in them—and again, there's a fey similarity to your behaviours and some soaked rodent he recognises.

Decidedly, you've realised it's not enough and promptly jut your feet backwards between his quads. Still continuing the motions, but more furiously.

The touch is dangerously close to the cradle of his inner thighs.

He swears he actually feels the blood drain from his face in mortification. The touch is meagre, but it's real. It's more warming than any he's ever known. And of course, to add insult to injury, that blood drains straight to were he's already painfully hard—which is currently pushed against his navel, halfway jutting out of his bodyglove's zipper.

Thankfully, you withdraw yourself from between his legs and sigh again, snug.

Then, you shuffle closer.

Your rear scuds right up to the swell of his confined cock.

Cato's immediately beside himself in an instant, flying into a rainbow of emotion. First, he's disgusted. Then he's seething at the audacity—which makes him furious—and finally, he's... he's ecstatic.

He groans, raring like some rutting animal; but the sound ultimately leaves him as an angry, subvocal snarl of transhuman harmonics.

You flinch, and wriggle away sharply, and he repeats the sound again at the loss of contact. You're only a hair away from being there still, he can feel how close you are—but you remain just beyond him again.

"My—my apologies, Commander... I-I—" you blurt out, voice still a little chill stuttered, "I didn't... I didn't mean to overstep."

He inhales steadily. He notes you're doused in human stress hormones; but he's acutely aware of a honeyed smell just below the surface. It's so suffocatingly sugary it's actually hurting his nose to scent the air. It's addling his thoughts, turning his focus to mist.

He can smell you failing to juggle all the reactions and thankfully rottenly settling for the one that makes you reek of mollasses.

"Come back, shut up," he hisses. "And stay still."

Sweet-stink radiates again before you swallow sharply.

There's an eternal breath of time in which he's about to go mad with anticipation, and the instant you're slotted against him again.

Some base urgency sends him frotting forward, and the thick, leaking head of him that peaks out the top of his zip brushes against a warm cunt; all thanks to that blanket of yours having slipped loose slightly, and lo, the blessed horrid consequence.

He'd live off the way your surprised gasp makes his nerves thrill.

"Is—" you wheeze, "Is that...?"

He grimaces, unsurprised you're ever stupider than you look. Recklessly, instead of lying—instead of saying 'no, it's a combat knife,' his mouth decides he's to act the most pathologically honest town crier alive.

"It," he intones sharply, before the words "...is your fault," leave him as a rushed hiss.

A belated pause wins out for a moment, and he's mortified as he realises what he's just confessed. There's a leaden feeling at the back of his throat. One option to recover the situation is that he could just hit you on the head. What'd be a shiner of a punch to a brother would be a terminal concussion to a baseline. Then, he'd tell the Primarch, oh yes, you died. Very sad. How? To shreds. To shreds you say? Truthfully, he can't really bring any actual conviction to the plan. He wouldn't. The notion is merely a hypothetical, in a perfect world where violence solved everything. Because if you die, Guilliman will send him to an Agri-world to be some peasant's plough-puller or someshit for a few centuries—and Cato's going to kill himself before he has to suffer that indignity. Uriel would never let him live it down. He's bound to suffer the same consequences, ultimately. Even if he's got no idea what an Astartes with a sex drive would be liable to be punished for. Oh, right. Corruption. So now, there's a credible witness to his flaw and one that his Father'll believe, worst of all, and... abruptly, you reply instead of scream in revulsion, your voice a mumbled little squeak as you say, "I didn't know—I mean, I didn't think—"

"Believe me, I am well aware you lack the capacity to think," Cato cuts in, and swallows down a snort at his own mean spirited joke. He's fucked, and for some reason he's suddenly further struck by the hilarity of the bastard, warp-spawn wiles of fate and chance. May as well be hung for the sheep as for a lamb, he decides.

Your breathing gains a shallow edge, and he feels you make as if to inch away again.

"I said not to move," He growls, and keeps you flush against him—holding you there by way of folding an arm across you.

"I just... uh," you reply, "I'm just..."

Your ass grinds back against him.

There's contact, your skin against the flushed, drooling head of him that feels painfully tender—and then you ruin it by speaking again.

"Curious, I suppose...? I was of the belief the Adeptus Astartes didn't..." your voice is soft, at least; slow and distracted, "Have an appetite for... this sort of thing?"

Cato momentarily stays fixated on the breathiness of your tone, and has to remind himself he's supposed to be angry at being robbed of silence—so he grumbles, "I told you to shut your trap," and promptly smothers a palm over your mouth.

You make a noise that sounds vaguely like a mumbled curse and settle, breathing hard through your nose to compensate.

Still, your rear presses back against him.

Cato takes the gesture at face value and fusses, roughly wrenching his bodyglove down to his thighs with his free hand.

Unconfined, his cock slaps the small of your back, and he manhandles you to readjust so it glides between your thighs instead.

Everything in place, he skews his hips forward, and his eyes roll back at the smooth, sublime drag of skin against skin. It's genuine perfection, wet and soft and molten.

The little hitched breaths you steal through your nose with each roll of his hips make him grind faster. Pressing closer with each, until the abhorrent, sticky sound of him steadily fucking against you is nigh deafening.

"I go in or I stay out," he says, and he can feel his molars grate against each other as he adds, "...or I can stop."

You shake your head furiously, or at least as much as the huge mitt on your chin, maw and jaw allows.

"Then decide," he snaps. "In?"

Cato hears the cartilage in your gullet move as you swallow dryly and nod.

Chuffed with your allowance compliance, he hums—and then it's his turn to hesitate.

When he draws his hand from your mouth, he curtly says, "Stay silent," and starts as if to tell you to arrange one way, then decides against it; dithering uncharacteristically. Then, rarer yet, Cato stumbles his words as he adds, "Move on to y-your front, then."

He doesn't know why he asked for the least preferred option when he'd been deliberating over the hypothetical for so long previously but nonetheless you, miraculously, comply without complaint. And despite himself he frustrates as you roll, his cock slipping away from between your thighs.

Draped in covers, he can't see much of you aside from the shape of you slowly arranging onto your hands and knees; before your chest sinks, and your ass stays up.

Like a rabid dog, he scrambles onto his haunches and scuds over behind you.

He's not entirely sure what to do first, and harrumphs.

In answer, your back arches even further in a dangerously luring bow, a display of willingness whorishness that turns Cato's thoughts to mush. Ass up and still in the pile, covered in blankets and rags, it's painfully easy to tug you from them just enough so that a decent portion of your raised lower half is exposed to him.

All he's able to comprehend the very next instant in some hind-brain, primitive way is a shapely ass, and a pretty pink cunt.

He grabs your hip, and the size comparison is so stark his head swims. With the span of one hand, he could palm a whole globe of your rear.

He does just that, and spreads you to take a nice long look.

You've a glossy sheen of clear slick that's starting to string down where it's collecting between your labia, and Throne—it's that. That's the sweet smell. And it's all for him—you're everything he's wanted.

Inspecting, he finds the hole leaking lubricant and a much, much smaller one below it—the vagina and then the urethra, he reasons by way of thinking back on a baseline biologis graphics; and, eyeing lower to a hooded fold, he finds a swollen little nub.

Pointedly, he's got a suspicion of what it is and turns his curiosity to it.

It's an easy target for his large thumb, even as slippery as your lust has made you, and—

A shaky little keen, then your knees pull together; body curling.

"Keep your damn legs apart," he grunts, wrenching them wide, and splaying a big palm on your ass to lift you into an arch again.

He's tempted to just bask in the glory of it all, grope, smack, lick—make you beg for it until he's sure you know he's in charge. Until you're as high strung for him as he's ever been for you. But he's frenzied, and well beyond being able to linger on those broader wants; not when he's got an Ambassador to fill.

He's aware of what your clit's really for now, and keeps rolling the pad of his thumb over it until you're squirming. It doesn't take long until your hole is visibly twitching. Nothing but a sloppy, wet mess of your own whorish excitement for him, as you ought to be. Cato bites back a longing sigh as he gets the delight of watching a fresh rivulet of slick string down your thigh.

And when he works up the gall, he jams that same thumb to the hilt in your cunt.

Your insides squeeze around it, and you start shaking, then. But it's not from the cold. No, anything but that. You're warm now, and he's deliriously happy to find you're as soft inside as the rest of you looks and feels. Warp damn him, he's no better than some slavering genestealer wretch fiending for its pound of flesh.

Your smaller baseline frame makes every part of him look huge in comparison. Even his thumb is big. And you're so much less—and the fact the disparity is so glaringly obvious plays havoc with his brain; but he's got an idea. An idea that he refuses to acknowledge sounding painfully like a boarding action to him.

With little tact, he sidles up and positions himself so his tip slots right against you, while stretching your opening with his thumb.

Lining himself up with his other hand, he nudges your entrance, smearing precum in with your wetness while inching forward; sliding his thumb out in tandem with pushing his cock in—and his efforts succeed.

Cato's transfixed watching the head of himself fill the gap, sliding in—and you let out a muffled yelp, still half-buried in the blankets like some stuck animal; your thighs juddering as you suck in air.

Honestly, he's glad you've smothered yourself like that, because he can't imagine keeping it together if you were actively watching him. He thinks the stark reality of it would have him run right out of the shack. Even the idea of having your pretty damning eyes on him makes him swoon sick.

With an over-eager roll of his hips, a shiver races up his spine. But he earns a cry from you.

He takes a deep breath.

There's a twinge of pain-smell and the vaguest hint of blood in the air, but it's impermanent compared to the amount of lust.

He pushes a little more, and you ripple internally around him; making a racketing, breathless noise—twitching before slacking, and then twitching again. A few perfect little moans escaping you at last.

Abruptly, all he's able to give a fuck about is the sensation of wet and hot, and how you're finally all his—it's a strangling fit, but it's satisfying a craving bone-deep. Infinitely better than his war calloused hands.

You feel sublime, and it's pure bliss finally getting what he's wanted for so very long.

All those rest cycles wasted furiously humping into his own clenched hand, all those hours of torment seething about your latest unintended slight against him.

He's so dazed by the new sensation he's massaging small circles with his fingers on your flank, humming lowly. Who would have known all he really needed was to hilt in a warm, velvety, absolutely sopping wet cunt to come around to you? Maybe you're not so bad afterall. That is, for an insufferable little cock-sleeve; but it's nothing Cato can't grin and bare. He can almost imagine tolerating further babysitting assignments, if it means he can use you as a hole to ram his frustrations into like this.

He continues petting you, absentmindedly.

But the involuntary mercy didn't stop you from jackknifing when he bucks in more—each little motion seating him deeper and deeper. He's stunned he fits. You're so... small, and Throne, he feels monstrous even fixating upon the disparity; nevermind the shiver that races up his spine at the thought.

He yanks you backward and you stop squirming for a moment.

When your wriggling starts up again, he holds you still with the sheer willpower only a neurotic control-freak could muster. He stops your motion, yes—but your insides also stop shivering around his cock and he's resentful of that.

Nonetheless, you make to move again then, keening and bothering him; but you're seemingly struck daft when he bottoms out at last, hitting your cervix. Your internal muscles tense on the intrusion, practically cramping around him, blinding him with ecstasy for a heartbeat as you clench down hard; and a squeak of surprise escapes you. Your legs lock stiff for a moment, air venting out your lungs in shock.

You garble out a sweet, hoarse curse that sounds more like a sob than anything.

Cato supposes the theatrics are what an orgasm on something his size does to a woman. And he finds he's appallingly keen to see and hear you do it again. Keen to feel it, too. He adjusts himself and grinds, making sure you're getting every bit he's got to give. It's no small feat of restraint from Cato to not simply drive into you with all his might like a hydraulic press.

Maybe that'll make your tight little hole cinch up again? He thinks you'd like that. No—no, you should be begging for him to keep fucking you. You should be thanking him while you're at it too, really. Thanking him for deigning to take you to begin with.

Your arch falls away to a prone slump with a whine, thighs trembling, leaving him straining forward to stay in you.

He is irate at your antics, now; and his retaliation betrays it.

Cato seizes your hips and yanks you back up his cock, shimmying you a little so he's nice and sheathed and stuffing you full, nigh folded under him. Warm cunt stretched taut around the base of his thick cock, like a perfect scabbard.

He's suddenly absorbed in watching your covered form consciously trying to counter the overwhelming forward mass of him starting to drive into you like he was part battering-ram.

"Better than all those limp-dicked, bastard lordlings you've let empty in you to even chance a cushion near my Primarch's table, hm?" His tone is little more than a scathing drawl, pulling almost entirely out of you just to dip the head of himself in.

You moan into the fabric smothering you, and he holds you with a controlled desperation.

"Answer me, you little shit."

He watches you nodding desperately beneath the cover a second later, failing to get an actual reply out around your huffing and puffing.

Cato groans, "Far keener for Astartes cock, aren't you?"

You nod again, needy.

"Throne, you're pathetic," he chides harshly, delighting in the soft whine of protest you make when pulls out to the tip one last time. "All that haughty bullshit, just to turn out to be so—so easy," then he's sliding back to the hilt and starting his rutting anew, grinding into that perfect spot that has your insides shiver around him again and again. "Isn't that right? This is all you're really good for?"

Beneath him, you're too much of an insensible mess to even think about answering; and somewhere in that depraved miasma of sound, he swears you're trying to say his name.

So, understandably, he inches forward on his knees and boxes you under him. Pinning you under the span of his bulk, two big hands firmly planted either side of your blanketed head.

He can see a few strands of your hair sticking out from beneath it and he can see the fog of your breath and the tip of your nose through a tented section, and only one of your hands—clawing out at the scraps of fabric.

"Prick-dumb animal," he sneers, flagrantly showboating; trying to sound as if he's not feigning lucidity and completely at the mercy of his lust.

He drops from his hands to rest on his elbows, manoeuvring a forearm under your head to prop your chin up. He's so bent over you that your ass is practically glued to his massive pelvis.

You can't stifle yourself now.

The sounds you make when he starts ploughing into you again are unrestrained and absolutely debauched. Practically music to his ears. He can feel your saliva smearing across his arm, and he's absolutely stupefied at the mantra of 'Sicarius, S-Sicarius, Sica-ah—rius—' you start panting. To say nothing of the keening whimpers that escape when you're not crying out for him. Louder with each thrust, and warp damn it all—his perfect memory is never going to let those gorgeous sounds go. He's going to fiend off you mewling his surname like a full dose of battle-chems until he fucking dies.

Cato groans and delights in the involuntary squeeze you make around his cock again; your hips skewing up into his own, meeting him.

He just wants one more thing—he wants—no, needs—he needs to hear you scream his name in that reedy voice. Telling him that you like him playing guard for you, and you're all his and you love hi—

Rather abruptly however, you're cinching down on his cock as you come again. Throne, your cunt may as well be Marneus' clenched powerfist the way you're wringing him for everything he's got. Crying out like you're inconsolable, and so painfully eager and—oh, fuck. He tries to hold off, but it's of little use. The dam cracks, and it's all too much for him far too quickly.

"You rotten w-whore—" the words leave him in between ragged, staggered pants, gritting his teeth even though it's achieving absolutely nothing. "Stop s-squeezing, I-I—"

He's finishing in you the next second and letting out a rough, unbecoming moan instead of the rest of his sentence; despite trying to muffle himself against your shoulder and save face. Emptying all his pent up spend as deep as he can inside you and rutting himself deliriously into oversensitivity. The simple feeling of it is a more profound experience than he can even begin to explain—and he's rendered daft. Fighting just to stay awake against the warm, coddling bliss running rife in his nerves as his muscles twitch.

Still trying to recuperate, he's drunk with afterglow for a few seconds. Head beside yours, sharing the same air and hurried breaths.

In his stupor, he notes that your hair smells nice even after everything. And he tuts softly, resting his eyes. Lulled by the soft sound of your hyperventilating evening out and the continuous, weak fluttering of your cunt around him, hot and tight, and still a perfect fit.

He almost understands why mortal men so frequently fought over baseline women, now.

Almost.

Because then you start squirming again.

Pointedly, he opens his eyes and begrudgingly lifts himself away, slipping free and leaving a big sloppy smear of combined fluids across your ass and thighs as he settles into a kneel.

You're still presenting yourself as Cato scrubs a palm across his face, and blinks slowly.

He glances down for a moment and swallows.

He's hard—still.

Just as ready to rut as he was to start with, despite the fact he's only just finished.

And, much like a beast in season, he genuinely contemplates another round—what would be the harm, anyways? He could be sliding himself back into you, right then, and he doubted you'd do anything but buck up to meet him. So much for some diplomatic prodigy. You're little more than a mewling wreck. And what better way to prove it than another wet layer of your mixed fluids on his cock?

A soft sound escapes you abruptly and he looks back to the place he's itching to slam back inside of.

A few fat rivulets of his cum drip out your abused entrance, but you're too well-screwed to even care, it seems.

He thumbs one of your folds aside and smiles smugly at the mess.

You poor thing, it must be so humbling to be put in your place. He hopes it felt good. Having your better's cum leaking out of you like a banner on a conquered fortress.

He's tempted to stuff his spend back into you and give you another load to drip. Let it leak down your thighs as you pad past his men on the flagship, that'd make them well aware of who you really admire—

At that brilliant jarring thought, blazing post-clarity arrived; an abrupt and unsettling feeling. The fact he'd even—even dignified your almost Slaneeshi-tier temptation—the fact he's raring to go again—he must already reek of your lust, and you of his—and Emperor have mercy, one quick scenting betrays everything, his men would tell their Father, and—you—you groan and worm yourself back under the blanket, likely truly feeling the chill now without his body to warm you.

The urge to say something becomes almost suffocating all at once, and Cato opens his mouth—just to be interrupted by a beep.

Hesitation seizes him, and he eyes his pile of half-frozen attire in the far corner.

Eighteen and a half seconds pass and it beeps again, indicating a second for every minute of arrival estimation.

The tracker beacon has finally done it's job.

But the matter of hastily cleaning up what insanity just happened becomes the real concern now.

Suddenly stuffed to the brim with adrenaline, Cato gets to his feet with Astartesian speed. He tries to take a step but sways, almost toppling. Looking down, he realises himself; and gingerly stoically waddles marches away from you, his bodysuit stuck around his knees. There's a cupboard in the other corner, covered in a frosted cobweb that looks a little like gossamer. Rifling through it provides him little. Most of it's contents are iced through, but a bottle of what stinks like absinthe is good enough, and he doesn't think it matters what he cleans up with. He definitely does doesn't look like a servitor on broken wheels as he scuds on his heels back beside your pile. And if he suffers any more injuries to his ego, they definitely don't include him bungling a kneel and being forced to wobble down on to his haunches. It's not his fault he's mentally accommodating for power armour that, currently, isn't there.

Pausing, he pokes the mound of scraps you're under, trying to rouse you.

When your answer to his 'kinder' effort results in you whining and curling up tighter, he settles for tossing any mercy out the window with a petulant grunt; and identifies the shape of one of your legs and tugs you half-free by your ankle like a speared fish, earning a yelp as the cold assaults you.

Grabbing one of the loose rags in your pile, he saturates it with spirit and scoops you up under the hips, before starting to wipe away the evidence.

You begin thrashing almost immediately when the rag makes contact. Then you're practically yowling, "It hurts, it h-hurts—wait, wait—" and okay—yes, maybe using high proof alcohol to clean the smell and slime of his cum off your freshly fucked hole wasn't his best idea. In his defence, you're one of the most stubborn baselines he's ever met, and you should learn to handle a little pain. Secondly, booze is the only thing that stays liquid at freezing.

"Enough with the bloody caterwauling, woman," he barks, effortlessly holding you steady despite your struggling. "It's not that bad, toughen the fuck up."

When he's done with you, he's actually remorseful of the situation. Certainly not his finest choice. Because now you're sniffling weakly, fussing about the residual stinging; and then you promptly scramble back under the blanket.

"There was nothing else I could use, okay?" He says sourly, scowling at the bundle of fabric you disappear into; before tossing the soiled rag he'd used to clean you into the fireplace to ignite.

He grabs another from the pile and douses it, wiping himself off—and at last, he's finally able to start to pull his bodyglove up over his hips. Wiggling and straining to fit the thick, skin-tight material over his still very much erect cock.

From the edge of his vision he can see you've peaked your head out to watch as he fixes the sternum latch in place.

He gives you a cursory glance, but nothing more.

He ultimately expects you to look away like the mouse you are—but no, what actually happens is worse. You just keep silently raking him with an expression that makes him feel like he's made of glass and every secret he's ever had or ever known is laid bare.

He can't stand it.

It makes Cato want to sneer at you fiercely in the hopes it would scare you off, remind you he's an exemplar of the Adeptus Astartes and shouldn't be stared at—something, anything except that look.

"Get up," he turns sharply and snorts.

The beeping is once every two and a half seconds, now.

Two and a half minutes, then.

"You let me fuck you," he bites out.

You're sitting now. Covered in one of the larger articles of rags. A tartan, fraying thing crumpled atop you, frowning and looking dejected. Then you open your mouth to speak but promptly stop. He can tell you're trying to form a diplomatic reply, and he grumbles, fuming.

"Tell anyone of this—" Cato's well aware he's being cruel as he adds, "—and I'll wring your little neck, Father's favourite pet or not."

You finally look away.

And he finds he can't stand that either.

So, to souse his bruised ego, Cato decides he's going to burn the shack down as soon as the transport lands and you're onboard.

He also decides he's going to burn that tacky formal tunic of his too, simply because he can.

[toy-dragon]

Part of my New Years Resolutions involves trying to play more of the ttrpgs in my collection, and tonight I just finished running the first session of @anim-ttrpgs 's Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy.

Now, looking at this book (October public beta for most I bet) it looks intimidating. 600+ pages with a lot of rules.

I read through it in chunks during my work hours, small bits at a time with a few big reads on my computer. I read through certain sections again, trying to figure out how all the rules slot together in the abstract.

Then, a hilarious opportunity happened in their patreon server, people wanting to play Eureka, so I volunteered. I figured, hey why not. This could be a good time. I got an older converted module they run in their public book club and spent the time setting up and asking a handful of questions about certain bits.

Admittedly, I was a bit nervous to run it. It has been a while since I ran a game for people I didn't know well, and I felt a bit under prepared despite my preparations and note-taking.

Eased my worries a bit that a few of my players had run it before, and was getting really excited about all their characters as they were sending me their ideas and thoughts about them.

After tonight, I am shaking everyone by the shoulders to go play it, oh my god. Not only was it really easy to run, I had such a good time despite my stuttering start to the game. While I was a bit disorganized in the initial start, trying to get my legs under to set up the first scene, it was wonderful watching everyone start having their characters interact with the funeral and each other and it felt very natural. Setting up Roll20 so that everyone was using GM rolls, so only I saw all their results, but would talk about rolls required and would hurriedly whisper them their info or answers to their question if it was a bit more complicated than a yes/no. And if you're like "Hey, what about their rules about Splitting the party? That seems incredibly weird?" At first, yes, I thought that too initially, but knew what they were emulating, but it didn't quite click reading it. We played in Discord, so I set a time limit of about maximum 10 minutes each separate group just to try to give enough breathing room and still keep it snappy. I had players deafen themselves as needed and then would ping people if their turn was up. I see posts from players saying how wonderfully helpful this is to keep track of things and stay in the session, and how it leads to relationships developing wonderfully. As the Narrator, it was actually super helpful for me! Because it would help both with breaking up the scenes neatly, but also helped to get into the heads of the NPCs around the investigators in different scenes, especially when time had passed. One scene had some of the investigators running off on their own while the rest stayed behind at a funeral to talk to an NPC to try and figure out more things, and then later on two of the investigators accepted her invitation to the after funeral dinner and it was so helpful to be like "Okay, so she's at dinner with family and a friend of the deceased. How is her mood now and how willing is she to talk about certain things vs how willing she was while at the graveyard." So so so helpful in my opinion. Beautifully well done. The investigators ended up at a Denny's and it was such a fun scene because someone brought up the possibility of haunted houses and started a wild argument. Afterwards, we ended just after the investigators made plans on splitting up for next time. Wonderfully made game. Please go play or even just read it. I had such a grand old time and can't wait to see what happens to this plucky and oddball group of investigators

[pressureplus]

I need that for my comfort!🥺✨ Trans boy reader who started to have dysphoria because his hair a getting to long for his comfort. So he ask to Sebastian to help him cut them shorter, which Sebastian hesitantly agreed. Might not be the best since it’s was cut with some scissors and also because Sebastian never cut hair before. But reader is still happy with the result lol.

This is so cute

Hair and Care 101

Pairings: Sebastian Solace X TransMasc!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Mentions of Gender Dysphoria

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

“And you're sure you want me to cut it? You won't do it yourself?”

“I can't exactly see the back of my head, so yes.” You sit on a stool, hands knitted together in anxiety. You'd asked Sebastian if he would be willing to cut your hair for you today. It had been, admittedly, a bit awkward to ask. He’d been flipping through files and restocking the supplies on his tail when you'd stepped into his shop. Your long hair getting in your eyes and somewhat fanning out nearly down to your hips. You hadn't had the opportunity to get it cut in so long it made your skin crawl. You felt…feminine. Way too feminine. You can't remember the last time you let your hair grow out this long and its made it really, really hard to focus on anything else. Its not just because it gets in your eyes and you can't for the life of you find a hairtie. Its deeper than that. You've started to almost flinch away from your reflections in the water and windows.

You've started to grab at your hips, at your face, poking and prodding and wondering if you can even pass with long hair. You haven't met another person besides Sebastian and the idea of being unable to see yourself the way you should. The way you know in your heart to be right. It makes you uncomfortable. You can only pinch and poke and prod for so long before your skin gets irritated. Right now, sat here, waiting for Sebastian to cut your hair? This was like your skin getting irritated. You had to debate if you were willing to even let another person cut your hair. What if they butchered it? What if it made you look worse than before? What if he fucked it up so bad you looked like one of those weird troll dolls but worse somehow? It had been your biggest worry for quite some time, until your hair got long enough that you couldn't stand it anymore.

“I feel like I should make you sign a waiver.”

“Sebastian, Im serious. Please, just cut it, I don't care if it's the worst thing ever. I can't keep walking around like this.”

“You understand my hands are too big to fit these scissors properly, right?”

“Doesnt matter, just get it done.” He sighs and grabs a collection of your long locks, specifically the one around your face. He straightens the hair to the best of his abilities using a hand so he can make the cleanest cuts he can.

“Why does this matter so much to you? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, focused on surviving? I mean paying me for a haircut seems a bit much.”

“Its…complicated.”

“How complicated can it really be?” He hums as he continues to make cuts, the sound of scissors through hair joining the sound of dripping water and Sebastian's voice. Would he even be cool about something like this? He doesn't particularly like anyone, and he's not really friendly with you either. Would he use it against you somehow? Would he get aggressive about it?

“I just feel kind of…feminine, and it makes me uncomfortable.” You mutter and this only gets a chuckle, sounding condescending.

“Oh, Expendable, long hair doesn't make you any less of a man. Don't be ridiculous.”

“I just don't like it.”

“Look, all I'm saying is, you could have bought a medkit instead of a haircut. If its this important than fine. Who am I to tell you how to spend your collected data?”

“Whether it makes me more of a man or not, is it wrong of me to not like feeling…” You trail off, and all at once, Sebastian tenses mid cut.

“Oh…thats what this is about.” His tone softens up a bit, the mild poking he had been doing immediately being cut out as he carries on cutting your hair.

“This isn't too stupid of a purchase, I guess.” He adds on.

“Yeah?” You ask as he finishes up, putting the scissors to the side and ruffling your hair to get any loose strands out.

“Yeah. Go take a look,” he motions towards the water so you can see yourself in the reflection. You peer down into it curiously and immediately your shoulders relax. You hadn't even realized you'd been tense. Your hairs a bit choppy, admittedly, but its not ugly or particularly butchered by any means. He was oddly thoughtful and careful about taking care of your hair for you. Even saying it was ridiculous to spend your data on, he didn't ruin it for you on purpose.

“Its good, you did a good job.”

“Yeah, well, I'm sure if you keep coming to me I'll get better every time.”

“Im sure you will, then.” You give him a smile and he kind of awkwardly smiles back for a moment. A bit of hesitation as you grab the keycard off his desk and put your swimming gear back on now that its dry.

“Wait.”

“Ah- Yes Sebastian?” You turn, concerned about what he might say. He's not stupid and you're certain he's figured you out by now. If he doesn't like it, there's nothing he can do about it sure but you always tense when people get all awkward around you. He hesitates a moment longer before giving you a little wave.

“You look better with short hair anyway.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do…now go on and get out of here. I've got other Expendables to deal with and a mess of hair to clean.”

[not-wholly-unheroic]

I recently found a copy of the graphic novel version of Straight on Til Morning at my local used bookstore and got a great deal so I wanted to share a few of my likes, dislikes, and general observations. I’d been meaning to write up a proper review of the book for awhile now but have been SUPER behind. Anyway, the graphic novel follows the book pretty closely and I’ll be sharing some images from it, so this WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS for those of you who haven’t read it.

First off, the artwork for the graphic novel is beautiful and some scenes are illustrated in a really creative way. For example, I love the depiction of this particular scene where Wendy is writing her stories and Hook sort of…comes to life off the page.

I also really love that while (most of) the characters are still recognizably Disney’s version…they also look a tad more realistic and have some of the illustrator’s own personal interpretation mixed in.

George Darling is a great example. In the graphic novel he is slimmer than in the film and looks remarkably like J.M. Barrie…which I have to consider was probably intentional.

And then there’s the Lost Boys in their animal costumes…Tootles, Skipper (excuse me, this is Nibs erasure—you can add Skipper but don’t just eliminate Nibs!), Slightly, Cubby, and the Twins.

The pirates, however, are a totally different story. Who the heck are these guys???

Anyway… at least they get Hook’s personality right. I love this bit, in particular, where one of the pirates gets a little rough with Wendy and Hook is having none of it. Also, the idea of Hook capturing Wendy to be a mother to the crew is a nice nod to the book.

One big complaint I do have is that the characters are, on occasion, a little TOO self-aware. Like in this scene where one of the pirates makes a sort of on-the-nose observation about Hook’s feud with Pan.

But I will admit, I did cackle at Hook’s reaction.

He said would you please stop trying to psychoanalyze me and look for symbolism and just let the story be about a boy and a pirate? (Hook, how do you even know who Freud is??)

You may have noticed by now that I haven’t said anything about Peter… That’s because Peter barely features in the story at all and honestly when he does show up, he’s…kinda useless and clueless. Now, admittedly, Wendy is meant to be older in this (around 16) so of course, it’s reasonable to think she might not quite view him the same way she did at 12…but in having her team up with Tink to do all the heavy-lifting of the plot (because, ya know, girlpower and all that), Peter sort of ends up not really doing anything. I’d almost rather have an evil Pan, as annoying as that trope is because at least then he actually does something. In this story, it truly feels like Wendy has just…outgrown Peter altogether. And that hurts.

Speaking of which…ya know what hurts even more for me as a Hook fan? THIS.

This poor man is curled up on the deck in the fetal position, terrified of a crocodile who has been long-dead, crying out for a best friend who never even existed except inside his own mind because he was so alone that he made him up.

O W !! Why would you do this to me, Disney?!

It ends for Hook with the crew deciding to drop him off somewhere with enough gold to pay for his keep and hire a caretaker because he’s so mentally unstable they don’t trust him to live by himself.

I hate to say it, but honestly, watching him die would be less painful. At least that would be over with fairly quickly. This just hurts.

But everyone else lives happily ever after, so it’s okay, right? Right??? 😫😭 (Don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here in the corner, crying over my pirate boy.)

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #2: NOT QUITE THERE

(also on spotify!)

b-b-back once again

Round two of the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Yesterday was track one, Dyad - today is track two, Not Quite There, featuring the incomparable telebasher!

This one's a bit of a dark horse relative to the rest of the album, but it may very well be my personal favorite song on the entire thing so dammit let's Yap

---

For the uninitiated, this song pulls heavily from a song off my previous album called Gummyworm, both in vibe and by very directly quoting its synth motif.

Both of these songs deal with two sides of the same emotional coin. I actually don't want to go into too much detail about it - I feel like the lyrics spell things out clearly enough - but I will say this:

When it's all you know, it's easy to believe that a love that isolates you, a love that doesn't respect you, a love that hurts is better than no love at all.

You deserve better. There are always people who genuinely want what's best for you, who want you to feel truly loved. It certainly isn't always easy - it's genuinely good if your interpersonal relationships have a little friction sometimes - but love should make your life brighter.

You deserve a love that's fair.

---

The original version of this song was actually intended to be on Bittersweet alongside Gummyworm. The original concept for that album had a whole heady concept involving duality, songs reflecting each other, the two halves basically being reprisals of each other... Ultimately, I'm glad I scrapped that idea, because it was waaaaaay too much for me to manage after a couple years of barely making music. Maybe I'll revisit it someday though?

The drums on this song are sampled from an Instagram post by Louis Cole, where he's doing this crazy one-handed hi-hat blast by holding a drumstick sideways. I'm a drummer and that shit genuinely scares me a little like i dont know how he does half the things he does its fucked BUT. I bring this up because he's one of my biggest inspirations as a musician! I'm really big on jazz in general, in case my love for spicy chords wasn't enough of an indication, but his specific brand of freaky hyperactive bullshit just does it for me.

Seriously, go watch his band KNOWER play their song Overtime. Absolutely insane performances across the board. also Clown Core

This whole song is really just my attempt at matching some of that hectic jazzy energy with my own style of music, so I figured it only made sense to make it another collab with another musician making delightfully frantic jazz bullshit - the legend herself, telebasher! I really am such a massive fan of her work, and I struggle to think of anyone who plays guitar quite like she does. We previously worked together on another Bittersweet track, Asemic Speech, and her guitar work is a major reason why that song is still one of my favorite I've ever released!! She's just built different like listen to this oh my god!!!!

Lastly, since this song was one of the first written for this entire project... it is admittedly a case of me shoehorning the album's leitmotif in after the fact. It's a little forced when it shows up in the backing vocals! But, the choir of vocal synths during the guitar solo served an additional purpose - my own voice doesn't show up on the album again for another four entire songs, and this would've otherwise been the only song on the entire album that didn't feature any vocal synths. Thus did I attempt to bridge the gap, as it were. Hopefully it makes the final product feel more natural!!

Either way, that's all for today's post.... i think.... which means that tomorrow.... we're gonna rot.... for clout

[marcelloshdz]

name dropping

summary: after you've been mentioned in a number of snl sketches, you finally come on to host and let marcello know your feelings about them. requested by anonymous. marcello x actress!reader

*c/n = “cast member name”

“y/n have you seen this?” a friend of yours asked, walking into your living room, and handing your their phone, a tiktok video on the screen.

“no? what is this?” you asked. 

“just watch it.” they said. 

you pressed play on the video, which was of a bit from the most recent episode of saturday night live, from the weekend update segment, and they were doing a bit about the upcoming award’s season.

“here to comment is the guy who tells you what the movies are, mario lopez.” colin jost announced. marcello hernández was then wheeled out onstage, dressed in a suit and tie for his portrayal of the famous tv host. he went into his jokes about the movies that came out this year, who he hoped received nominations, and who he was excited to see on red carpet.

“personally, i’m a huge fan of y/n l/n, and i hope she wins everything.” he said before smiling wide at the camera.

your jaw dropped at the mention of your name on the show. “oh my god!” you screamed as the video continued. “this is crazy!”

“you’ve finally made it big enough to being mentioned on snl!”

“a dream come true.” you laughed. you watched the rest of the video, on the brink of tears as you laughed at the rest of the jokes. 

as the rest of the season went on, and you continued to be a name in movie news during award’s season buzz, you were continuously mentioned on snl. as more of the sketches were brought to your attention, you noticed that it was quite frequently marcello who was name dropping you. you didn’t really think much of it at first, just assuming that he was given stuff written by other people for the characters he was playing, but after a few more instances, it almost felt as though it was on purpose.

you’d just been announced as the host for their episode of prior to oscar sunday. you were excited to host, but you were also quite nervous. you’d done a few comedic roles, but the show being live was something that you were genuinely scared of. your first day in the studio was fun as the writers were pitching you their sketch ideas. you’d moved some of your things into your dressing room for the week. as you were walking out, you almost bumped into marcello, head down as he was reading something on his phone.

“shit, sorry.” he said awkwardly. “oh, hey y/n!” he said once he realized it was you.

“hi, marcello. it was nice to finally get to meet and work you. i’ve been seeing a lot of your sketches over these past few weeks, and i’ve enjoyed them a lot.” you said to him.

“thank you. that means a lot.” he said shyly. “i was nervous when you were announced as host that you were gonna be upset with the jokes that have been about you.” he admitted to you.

“no way. i thought they were all hilarious. admittedly, mainly because you were delivering the jokes.” you said with a smile. “i think you’re really funny and you’ve quickly become a favorite cast member of mine in the time you’ve been on the show.” you added, a faint blush rising to marcello’s cheeks.

“thank you. that means a lot, especially coming from someone as amazing as you.” he smiled. 

the rest of the week flew by, and before you knew it, it was saturday night. throughout the week, you and marcello grew quite close, hitting it off well and becoming fast friends. he was shy around you at first, but as the week went on, he became very talkative and friendly with you, bordering on flirtatious.

you were sitting your host dressing room taking a break from rehearsals when one of the cast members came in to talk to you.

“hey, what’s up?” you asked as they sat down.

“what’s going on with you and marcello?” they asked.

“nothing? why? did he say something?”

“not directly, but i can tell something’s up. in the three seasons he’s been here, he’s never been as giddy around a host like he’s been with you.” they said to you.

“oh. well, nothing’s going on between us. i mean, he’s been very friendly towards me, but it hasn’t been anything more than that.” you said, shaking your head.

“for what it’s worth, and i’m not trying to imply anything, but if anything does happen, he’s a great guy. and you two would be really good together.” they added before walking out of your dressing room. 

throughout the rest of the night, and leading into the show, marcello was acting even more flirty and friendly towards you. taking into account what you now knew about him, you began wondering if he had other intentions.

the show ended up being amazing, and you had a blast being there. after good nights, you went back to your dressing room to begin packing up your things to head out.

“you coming to the after party?” you heard a voice ask. you looked up to see marcello popping his head in the door.

“uh, no sorry.” you sighed. “i’ve got a busy day tomorrow, and gotta head back home pretty quickly.”

“oh, that’s too bad. i was hoping we could hang out some more, without the stress of having to put together a show.” he said stepping into the room. “can i at least walk you out?” he asked, and you nodded. he slung one of your bags over his shoulder and the two of you walked down the hall to the elevator to make your way downstairs and outside. as you walked downstairs, you and marcello quickly got to chatting, sharing your favorite parts of the week. 

marcello stood with you on the sidewalk, keeping you company while you waited for your uber. 

“hey, can i talk to you about something?” you asked him.

“what’s up?” 

“c/n talked to me earlier, while we were taking a break from dress rehearsals, and they brought something up to me that was kind of interesting.” you began, marcello raising an eyebrow at you, signaling for you to continue. “they mentioned that they hadn’t seen you as excited to work with a host as you’ve been with me.” 

“well, there is a lot of truth in that.” he began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “i may have let it slip that i have a bit of a crush on you.” he admitted.

“oh!” was all you were able to get out. that was definitely not what you were expecting him to say. 

“that’s partly the reason why i’ve been so willing to talk about you in sketches. i was hoping it would sorta grab your attention.”

“which it has, so i guess your plan worked.” you laughed. 

“i don’t mean to be too forward, and i hope this doesn’t make anything weird between us. but i do like you, and i feel like we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well over this week. i don’t know your situation, as far as if you’re in a relationship or not,”

“i’m not.” you interrupted with a smile.

“good. then maybe you and i can go out sometime. there are a lot of good date spots in the city, places that i’d love to take you to.

“i’d like that.” you nodded. a wide smile spread across marcello’s face, thoughts running through his head about how he could plan a perfect date night for you. you exchanged numbers, promising to text each other later that night, just before your uber finally arrived. 

you set your bag in the backseat before taking your other one from marcello. you hugged  him tight, , pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before climbing into the car. you waved from the window, marcello waving back as he watched you drive off. by the time you pulled up to your house and made your way inside, your phone was going off in your hand, a text from marcello popping up on the screen.

“not to sound like a broken record, but it really was so nice getting to meet and work with you this week.”

“same here. i was admittedly quite nervous about hosting, but being around you made it much easier. i can’t wait to see you again.” you replied.

“i’ve already got some ideas in mind for a date night. i hope i can continue to impress you.”

“well, you’ve been pretty good at that so far. i don’t doubt you’ll continue to do so.” you replied. you caught yourself smiling at your screen, accepting the fact that you already had strong feeling for marcello. but oh well. he did too, and you were happy that you were both already acting on them.

[n0pr0mises]

𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 :/ 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢. 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚐

“No, go away.” 

“Mrow.”

“Stop it.”

“Mrooow.”

"Go awaaaayy."

"..."

“She likes me more than you, you know.” Satoru says seriously.

Big hazel eyes stared up at him. A fluffy tail swished. There are no thoughts behind those eyes, he observed. Only hunger.

“Yeah, she does.” He said insistently. The tail swished again while he protectively held his bowl closer to his chest. He didn’t care one single bit if he looked ridiculous.

He'd already had to get up from his comfortable spot on the couch when she tried to launch herself at him, dodging her as she followed him around. 

"You look like a gremlin, and it's after midnight, so you definitely aren't getting any." He said seriously, like she was listening at all, let alone understood him.

Satoru wasn’t really a cat person. He didn’t mind them, but preferred the energy and general enthusiasm to see him that dogs had. However, he didn’t have the kind of time to dedicate to being a proper dog owner, and you, as his girlfriend who was actually home the most, loved cats.

He admittedly does like how soft they are and how funny it looks when they sit like a little loaf of bread.

He does not like how they try to steal his ice cream.

“Back off, Latte!” He did not feel ridiculous at all for taking a defensive stance against a 10lb animal.

He lifted the bowl over his head, as if there was even the possibility she could have reached it while he was already standing up. But he’s not stupid. He fights this battle almost every night with varying desserts and she is crafty. 

He’s never owned a cat before, obviously (he didn’t have any pets growing up because he never had time, always training training training), so he wasn’t aware they even ate people food. He definitely didn’t consider that one might overcome their own skittishness for whipcream. 

He gets it though.

“This is mine, as in, for me only. You don’t get any.” He also was not even remotely embarrassed to be arguing seriously with a cat that was stretched up his leg like she was going to climb her way to his dessert.

“Gah! These are expensive, you know.” He gritted out when he felt claws digging into his thigh through the fabric of his pants. 

“Meoow!” 

“Stop looking at me like that! You can’t have it!”

Just as he was considering the pros and cons of shaking his leg to get her off him, you were there, swooping up the silly animal and holding her like a baby. 

“Y’know, you could’ve been eating your ice cream this whole time, instead of trying to convince her to leave you alone,” You say, smiling, “I don’t think even you can get a cat to go away when they don’t want to.”

He made a grumbling sound, not agreeing with you, just turning his back and stuffing his face like a chipmunk. 

You reached around to swipe a finger through the whipcream and he glared over his shoulder at you when you let the cat lick it off your finger.

"...you don't let me do that." He pouted.

You looked at him flatly while your cat tried to squirm out of your arms, "Just hurry up and finish it, goof."

He manically scooped the remains into his mouth, making you laugh when he actually licked the bowl.

“Why don't you ever turn use infinity?” You asked with a raised brow, amused, as he took his dishes to the kitchen.

His mouth opened but no words came out. He blinked. "I have no idea."

he secretly liked the nightly battle. he called it 'bonding.'