#and the cage of bone thing is just what the thing is Tumblr posts

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 23

Word count: 2686

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, death, use of weapons, use of a knife, graphic depictions of violence, blood, military setting.

They keep him locked away in complete and utter darkness. Not a single sound penetrates the two-foot-thick cement walls. Anything he hears is a fabrication of his mind. An audio hallucination caused by the psychological effects of the deprivation of his senses. I’m sure that’s not the only thing he imagines as his chilled bones rattle against each other and his joints stiffen from the cold. So when Ghost cracks open the vault-like door and flicks on the lights, I don’t doubt my father thinks he’s seeing things. Maybe that I’m not real or that I’m visiting him from the dead or that I’ve come for revenge. All of these could be true.

The frigid air penetrates through my long sleeves. It’s just warm enough in here to avoid hypothermia. It’s like 141 is refrigerating him, preserving him until it’s time to transport him back to their main base. That’s where the real fun will begin. In theory, at least.

Ghost keeps his word and leaves the room only after sharing the smallest nod with me. He trusts me. It’s not his choice to make. It’s mine.

I think I subconsciously knew what had to happen long before I could admit such an idea to myself.

All I’ve ever wanted since this began was for the hurting to stop. Not just the pain inflicted on me, but on every soul involved. I hated the idea of people suffering because of me. Even if they hurt me and even if they hurt others; I didn’t see the point in furthering the cycle.

But that’s just it. It’s a cycle that won’t stop until someone interrupts it. 141 thinks that’s what they’re doing, but they’re just as much a part of it as the Ultranationalists. I’d never tell Ghost that, but I don’t see any other way you can put it.

They won’t accomplish anything by locking him away and torturing him for days on end until he gives them some outdated information on my uncle that’ll just send them on another goose chase. The only thing they’ll accomplish is causing more pain.

141’s solution isn’t permanent enough.

“Y/n? Darling?” My father’s voice is weak. “Is that really you?”

For a moment I think he might cry. He looks broken. Genuinely broken. He looks like I’ve felt ever since I found out about who he is. All this makes me wonder how much his reaction is genuine.

“Don’t call me that anymore,” I respond and it’s enough to tell him that, yes, it really is me. And no, I’m not here to help. I take a step away from the locked entrance into the claustrophobic room.

I wouldn’t doubt these rooms are designed to be small for psychological reasons. The base isn’t lacking space by any means. Some psychologists at some point determined that people are easier to break when they’re caged up like animals.

“Don’t act like that darling,” his tone remains on the verge of cracking. “Can we talk? I want to know you’re okay.”

He’s lying. Something about the squint around his eyes isn’t right. Or maybe I want him to be guilty. Maybe I just want to feel justified. What would Ghost think about his body language?

It looks like it takes a significant amount of effort for him to rise his head. The once gentle, yet strong man I knew has since withered. I want to pity him. Some part of me even wants to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. To cut him loose and let him take me back in time.

The stronger part of me won’t let that happen.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” I tell him. My voice doesn’t let on how nervous I am. The stress of the situation doesn’t seem to sink in. That’ll happen later.

“Look,” he admits. “I need your help. They’re going to kill me. Then you. We have to do something.”

Suddenly it’s we. Not me. Not I. Not your mother and I. No, she’s in New York. All he cares about is himself. I imagine Ghost standing beside me and striking him for lying. We.

“How many deaths are you responsible for?” I don’t bother entertaining his nuances. I feel uncharacteristically calm right now as I slowly approach him. My hands don’t shake or sweat. My mouth isn’t dry. My heart beats steadily. I am in complete control.

The switch blade weighs like iron in my back pocket.

“What are you talking about?” his mask starts to slip away. I need him to tell me. I can’t do this if he doesn’t admit guilt.

“The shootings: refugee centers, churches, homeless shelters. I saw videos, you know.”

“If you saw videos, what does my answer matter?”

“I want to hear you say it,” my voice is even. I almost sound unbothered by what I’m asking him to admit like I don’t care all that much. “Take ownership of your actions.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he tries to change the subject. For a moment I think he’s trying to make me feel stupid. Then I register something else in his voice. Something fearful and hesitant. What is he scared of? “This isn’t a mistake you want to make.”

“You’re ignoring me. Admit it. Admit what you did to those people. Admit what you did to me. To Mom,” The tips of my boots are just inches away from his chained feet. The air between us is charged with resentment.

“Look at what they’ve done to you, y/n,” maybe it wasn’t fear I sensed earlier. Maybe the emotion sneaking out of his chest was something entirely different. Because if I’m not mistaken now, he almost sounds disgusted. “You’re almost unrecognizable,” The flare of his nostrils confirms it. “Your mother would be so disappointed if she could see you right now.”

I feel a dull twisting sensation in my chest. Like his cold hands have wrapped around my lungs and squeezed them. Breathing feels impossible as the thick muscle twists between his bloody fingers.

My heart pumps faster and molten blood races to my neck and cheeks. My calm composure is slipping and fast.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” the words snag through bared teeth. How dare he try to guilt me. I haven’t done anything wrong. The only reason I’m here is because of him. It’s all because of him.

“Nothing about me’s changed, darling. Your mother’s always supported me. You would too if you knew where the world was heading.”

“I doubt that.”              

“You’re looking at it wrong, y/n. Not everything is about making the world better. But our job, our family, will make it more secure. Those people were a threat,” he says matter-of-factly. A threat to what, exactly? They were innocent. They were children.

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like you’re doing this for the greater good. There is no world where mass killings make things better,” I snarl.

“We work for what we want. We take things into our own hands. This little crew over here, 141,” he says with a measurable amount of distaste. “Is using you. Even now, y/n,” He says this like he knows. Like it’s the complete truth and to even think otherwise is utterly mad. “If you think you’re here on your own free will. You’re wrong.”

I blink. His absolute certainty is maddening. Never could I have imagined him to be so disconnected from reality. He truly is a stranger.

“I know why you’re really here, Little Bird, doing their dirty work like a good little whore,” he seethes. There’s a controlled sense of chaos to him that taunts me. I could pull the switchblade on him. I should. Just get it over with for god’s sake.

I close the minimal space between us. Only inches away yet the distance feels like miles.

“I’m not here on their business,” I say between my teeth. As I lean over him, it’s the first time in forever I feel like I am in control. “This all started because of you and I’ll be damn-“

Suddenly the tables turn swiftly and dangerously. He leaps from the chair and his hands are wrapped around my throat in a vice like grip before I can even process what’s just happened. My arms flail and it feels like slow motion as we fall through the air with him on top of me. How the hell did he get out of his restraints?

My head hits the cement hard and the sound of bone hitting rock echoes off the walls. Not just one, but two men are now strangling me and I struggle to make out which one is real.

“This is all your fault,” spit covers my face as he speaks. Redness runs up his throat to his cheeks as his eyes bulge from exertion. My hands desperately grasp at his arms to no avail. My ears ring as they search the floor for something, anything. Then I feel the tiny piece of metal, still in my back pocket.

Ghost’s training kicks in fast.

My brain barely regiseters the object in my hands as I thrust it toward him as quickly as possible while he’s still destracted. My vision is spotting as his grip seems to tighten even stronger. I repeat the desperate action several times more until the blade is lodged in his lower stomach and I finally manage to drag it across diagonally, completely bathing us in blood.

Only then, does he falter. The man’s hands reach for the wound as he crumples to the side and I take the chance to crawl towards the corner of the room furthest from him. I can’t feel anything but the hot, tacky substance that has fully saturated my clothes. My chest quickly rises and falls as my lungs fight to breathe, but for the life of me it doesn’t feel like any air is making it to them. Panic clouds my vision and my sight turns to static. Everything sounds distorted, like I’m underwater. For a moment I think that is exactly what happened and must be why I feel like I’m drowning.

Red emergency lights flash and an alarm blares in the background. In thirty seconds an armed team of 141’s soldiers will barge through the doors to address the security breach. When they see my father’s slumped body and the growing pool of blood around the bottom of his chair, they’ll look to Ghost for answers first, then they’ll look at me. There’s no hiding what I’ve done.

“Y/n, you’re hyperventilating,” his clear, calm voice breaks through the surface. My eyes flicker up to meet his and my whole attention focuses in on him. Simon. I don’t know where he came from or if he’s real, but right now he’s the only person that can save me. “Deep breaths sweetheart, we don’t have long before they’re here,” his gloved hands cup my bloodied cheeks. I almost don’t notice his skull mask. It’s not the scariest thing in the room anymore. I am.

I nod and Simon continues, “breathe with me y/n. Ready?” he searches my face before deeply breathing in, “and out,” he says through a deep exhale. “Keep breathing. You’re doing good, but I need you to listen very carefully about what is going to happen next,” I nod again and push through another wave of anxiety.

“A team of men is going to detain you and you’ll be brought to the med center. Once you’re cleared Price will have you locked in your room. You won’t get to see me again, but I’ll be watching, okay? You’ll stay there for a few days while the higher-ups have meetings, then eventually discharge you and put you under protective services,” Ghost’s thumb gently rubs back and forth, spreading blood across my cheek. I finally come to terms with what he’s saying. I won’t be able to see him again. They’ll have assumed he had something to do with this. Otherwise, how’d I get the knife? How’d I get through security? They’ll know it was him and they’ll punish him for it.

“But you-” My voice cracks.

“I’ll be alright y/n,” Simon is so calm that I can’t help but belive him.

I want to lean into his embrace, to feel his arms fully encompass my shaking frame and fully disappear into him. Does he mean it when he says I won’t get to see him again? My already clenched heart twists. How am I supposed to just accept that? There has to be something we can do.

I catch the silhouette of my father’s body from the corner of my eye and feel my breathing start to lose control again. I did that. I killed him. Even if it was technically self-defence, my intentions were already set upon deciding to visit him. He almost did me a favour by attacking me.

I’d be stupid to think Ghost and I could have a future after I’ve committed such a heinous crime.

In the distance I hear quickly approaching footsteps as a crew of men, armed and ready, sprint down the hall towards our direction.

“Simon, I-” my voice drifts off. There’s so much I need to tell him, but I’m at a loss. Under the mask, his eyes are calm. He knows. He always has.

“I know y/n,” his voice is low with remorse. The air is still. The alarm blares in the background and our faces are illuminated by the flashing red. My last ounce of hope is suspended by a delicate thread in the space between us. “Me too,” Simon’s brows furrow as he looks me over one sorrowful last time. His shoulders heave as he prepares himself for what he has to do next.

Ghost shifts back as he rises to his full height. The automatic riffle that is often clipped to his hip is taken into both hands and aimed directly at my heart.

“Simon?” my voice trembles. He isn’t there.

“Toss the weapon to the side and put your hands behind your back,” Ghost commands. He doesn’t have to yell or threaten me. I defeatedly do exactly as he says.

The sounds of the soldiers grow louder. Their feet loudly echo through the cement halls. The rattle of their equipment can be heard over the alarm as the leader of the crew yells something indiscernible.

Six more weapons are aimed at my chest as they storm the room. Five of the faceless, towering figures line the wall, completely surrounding me. The last one approaches my father, drops his weapon, removes his gloves, presses two fingers to my father’s carotid artery, and checks for a pulse. Thirty silent seconds pass, and nothing.

He is finally gone.

All their attention returns to me. Ghost remains in the background as one of the new soldiers approaches with a pair of cuffs dangling from his hands. He doesn’t say anything as he closes the gap. The metal is cold around my wrists as the cuffs tighten and click into place.

I fight every urge to look at Ghost. All I want is the comfort of his eyes, to know everything will be all right. I can’t risk it, my every action is being monitored. Even the wrong kind of eye contact can be incriminating. How badly will they punish him? My stomach twists at the thought.

The masked man yanks me to my feet. My knees almost buckle with the unexpected pressure. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I nearly fall. I barely have time to adjust before the familiar black cloth bag is tugged over my head.

Darkness.

I’m reminded of how I was brought to 141 in nearly the same state. It feels like so much has changed and yet nothing is different. My whole life was burned to the ground, yet for them, this is just another day. I am merely a small blip on their radar, almost small enough to disregard completely, but not quite.

I hope I never see them again.

[ladyveronikawrites]

IF PAIN IS BEAUTY, I'M A PRETTY BITCH

(Noah Sebastian x OC) 18+

Kinktober in the Concrete Jungle - Prompts: Female Domination, bondage, imapct play, humiliation

Part of the Will We Both Be Satisfied verse

CW: Power exchange, D/s, sissification, feminization, cross dressing, honorifics, roleplay, new name, suck off dildo, spanking, impact play - paddle,  orgasm denial, strap, verbal humiliation, chastity, cock cage, squirting

Word Count: 3,323 Crossposted: AO3 // Wattpad

title comes from 'Code Mistake' by Bring Me the Horizon

Click. Clack.

The heels of her modest height clear stilettos pierce the lavish marble floor of the hotel lobby. Vivian pulls out her phone from her leather tote bag as she approaches the elevator. When the metal doors slide open, she struts in, chin held high as the bodies part for her. Vivian should feel intimidated standing arm-to-arm with folks much taller than her, but she doesn’t. She may look small but she’s a spitfire. A smirk curls her lips when her phone chimes. 

Room 532.

A beast of a man waits for her behind that door. No one moves when she exits the elevator and a couple making out in the hall, stop and stare when she walks by. Vivian demands all eyes on her at all times. The sheer black floral lace corset is the only delicate thing about her. The garment is tied tight making her pert tits almost spill from the cups, her black shoulder-length hair grazes her collar bones which accentuate the sweetheart neckline of the bustier. Paired with her favorite high-waisted trousers that hug her hips and define her waist, it’s absolutely obscene. Her large sunglasses attempt to obscure her identity but it’s pretty obvious why she’s there at this time of the night and she doesn’t give a single flying fuck. When she approaches his door, he opens it before she has a chance to raise her scarlet-manicured hand to knock. Vivian struts into the room not even acknowledging the tree of a man, muscles bulging and drenched in sweat just like she asked. His head is bowed, and his knees shake when he shuts and locks the door. 

“Scared someone’s going to find out your dirty little secret and call the police?” she taunts, as she dumps the contents of her bag on the table by the bed. Noah shifts on his heels but doesn’t speak a word. Good boy.

“Speak.”

“Y-yes, mistr- I mean, Miss V,” he blurts out, nerves shaking his voice. 

“Good thing, I don’t intend for anyone to find out.” Vivian stalks over to Noah shoving a bright pink bag of toiletries onto his chest. 

“Go clean your gross gym bro sweat off.” She makes a face in disgust before opening the bathroom door. “I can’t wait to meet my pretty girl soon when you are done. Does she have a name yet?” Vivian chimes, her voice softening in excitement. A soft blush creeps over Noah’s cheeks accentuating his freckles, but he can’t meet her eyes. 

“Look at me when I ask you a question,” Vivian commands, placing her manicured hands on her hips, expectantly. 

“Y-yes Miss V, h-her name is Norah.” She can sense Noah’s hesitation, yet his gaze remains on hers. 

“What a beautiful name,” Vivian smiles approvingly. “When you wash yourself think of her, imagine her slender hands washing your body and the sweet smell of her hair and skin. Remember darling, she is you.” 

“Yes, Miss V, of course.” A bashful smile spreads across his face when her words sink in. What Noah has been longing for is becoming a reality. 

Noah practically skips into the bathroom with the bright pink bag clutched tight to his bare chest. Vivian hears the whoosh of the shower tap being turned on and busies herself with removing the expensive garment from the bag and steaming out all the wrinkles with the portable steamer she brought.  She wants this to be perfect.  

Soon enough she hears the water being shut off and Noah stepping out of the shower. 

Vivian knocks on the door, “Norah, may I come in?” 

“Y-yes.” His voice cracks as she opens the door. Before her, Noah has wrapped the starch-white hotel towel around his waist. His skin is flush and damp, highlighting every defined muscle in his arms and chest. Mentally shaking herself, she steers her derailing thoughts back to the task at hand, just before noticing Noah’s purple-painted toenails. 

“What scent did you choose?” she circles him, grazing her manicured fingertips over his glistening damp torso. His body flexes in the wake of her touch. She knows the scent he chose to wash himself with. She has every scent of her inventory memorized. The sense of smell is powerful, a primal yearning that etches itself into the brain for an eternity. Mixed with your own pheromones- your scent is unique to each individual. Noah chose something comforting and familiar. 

“Vanilla and bergamot, Miss V.” His cheeks heat with the confession.

“I-I..” Noah’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I feel good-”

“Very good. How does it make you feel?” Miss Vivian walks over to the bed, grazing her fingertips over the garment bag with anticipation. 

Vivian turns, crossing her arms over her chest, and cocks a full brow; a warning for him to continue.

“Powerful…” Noah continues, “Yet beautiful.” She beams with pride at his declaration and when she glances up at him, he smiles right back. 

“Would you feel more comfortable dressing in the bathroom or the room?” Vivian slowly unzips the garment bag, periodically glancing up to see Noah’s reaction. She watches as Noah’s mouth parts and eyes widen. She is also pretty sure she saw his eyes start to shimmer as she pulled the exquisite black mini dress from the bag. 

She hands over the velvet hanger, and he stares in awe. " It’s beautiful,” he whispers, " even better than I could imagine.” 

Vivian moves to hang up the now empty garment bag in the closet. She smiles to herself again, basking in Noah's newfound excitement. 

When she turns back, she gasps softly at the sight before her. Pooled around Noah’s ankles are his grey sweatpants and boxers. He hadn’t bothered to step out of them, too entranced by the soft fabric. Her heart leaps at the sight of the matte black chastity cage uncasing his cock, a gift from their first meeting over a month ago. 

It’s beautiful really, watching the tall, toned, and tattooed man grazing his large hand over the dress. 

“Can I help you put it on?” Vivian asks.

Noah starts to shake his ‘yes’ and then stops himself, “Yes, Miss V, please help me put it on.” Noah’s voice pitches higher with excitement. 

“Of course, dear.” She grabs a pair of lace panties from her bag. “Put on these while I ready your dress and gather your heels.” Noah swiftly discards his sweats and pulls on the lace panties that fit him perfectly. 

He shouldn’t be surprised that Vivian could size him correctly as she took extensive measurements during their first consultation. The self-proclaimed perfectionist does not overlook her care and attention to detail.  

Noah steps into the dress and sucks in a shaky breath. Vivian comes behind him to zip up the dress, admiring the ink that shows from the open back of the dress. 

“Turn around,” Vivian instructs her voice firm, despite the tenderness she feels in this delicate moment. He obeys quickly, almost stumbling over his long limbs. 

“Sit down on the edge of the bed.” Noah’s brows furrow slightly as the dress presses against his thick thighs when he sits down. It’s a little uncomfortable, forcing his legs to press together. 

Vivian can’t help but glance at his thighs, where the dress hitched higher, as she makes her way back to Noah with a pair of strappy heels in her hand. 

“Now I’m not one to kneel,” she starts, lowering herself to the ground in front of Noah. “But for a pretty thing like you, I would.” Vivian slides the heel onto his tattoo foot and fastens it around his delicate ankle and when she looks up, she finds the prettiest shade of warm pink flushing Noah’s cheeks. “I see you painted your toes, does anyone else know?” she asks fastening the other heel. 

“No, Miss V,” Noah’s voice starts to waver. “No one knows.” 

“What if we showed someone? What do you think about that? Just a picture…hmm?” Don't get carried away Viv, you know blackmail is a soft limit and you can understand why.

Her hands pause at his ankles, waiting with bated breath for his response.

“I’m not ready… I’m sorry.” Vivian can see a trace of fear in his brown eyes. 

“That’s ok darling,” she says softly, rising slowly to stand, she tilts his chin up to meet her gaze. “It’ll be something special for us then.” Noah smiles back at her and her heart flutters. He’s so soft and beautiful. She takes a step back and admires her work. 

Noah sits up straighter on the edge of the bed and crosses his legs at his ankles. The heels fit his feet perfectly and his tattoos are on full display. His leg muscles tense as her gaze wanders higher. Nervously, Noah starts to pick at his cuticles. Her small hand stills the anxious habit. Vivian glances a little too long at his large hands under hers, her small wrist against the length of his fingers. 

“Norah, look at me sweet girl,” Miss Vivian coos, caressing his jaw with her free hand. A pink blush warms the freckles scattered on his cheeks. He sighs deeply when his eyes meet hers, leaning into her touch. “Good girl, another deep breath for me.” He takes another shaky breath, the new nickname setting loose a thousand butterflies in his tummy. “That’s it,” Vivian smiles. “Shall we continue?” 

“Yes, Miss V,” Noah’s voice is stronger now, confident. 

“Stand up, l want you to see how pretty you look in your dress and heels.” Fingers entwined; Vivian leads Noah to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. He stumbles a few times, reaching out to her for extra support. She swallows down the laughter threatened to spill from her throat as the baby gazelle straightens his wobbly legs and smooths down the dress. 

“You are doing so well,” she beams. “Just a few more steps.” Vivian offers her arm to him for support, but he refuses – strutting the rest of the way into the frame. Noah oozes confidence, bright eyes, and a dazzling smile when he looks himself over in the mirror. The dress does wonders for his shapely body, cinching at the waist yet hugging the thickest part of his toned thighs. 

“Spin slowly for me, Norah,” she instructs. Vivian watches as Noah hesitates for a breath before turning cautiously in the heels. Her jaw drops when her eyes scan over Noah’s back, “Stop,” she blurts out, yet Noah complies threading his fingers together comfortably at the small of his lower back and bowing his head slightly, he slips into submission. 

The roses on his hips are red and he has had more coloring added to his tattoo. Noah shifts on his feet, tearing Vivian from her daze. “Keep going,” she clears her throat, trying to keep her cool. “How do you feel?”

“I feel amazing, Miss Vivian,” his voice pitches higher as a blush heats his cheeks. “The dress is so soft, and it makes me feel incredible. I… I didn’t know I could look this good,” he confesses, his cheeks burning crimson, yet his gaze remains transfixed on himself in the mirror.

“Can you be a good girl for me and get on your knees?” Noah drops to his knees, instantly. He still somehow towers over Vivian when she comes to his side.  “That’s it, it’s where you belong.” Her voice turns cold, her long fingers gripping his chin to force his gaze upward. “Open your mouth,” she commands. 

Noah complies eagerly even sticking out his tongue for her, his big brown eyes starting to dilate. Vivian nudges the silicone dildo closer. “You’re a little cockslut aren’t you?” she huffs a laugh, sliding the toy closer. Saliva drips from his tongue to the floor with every shake of his head. 

“Please Miss V,” Noah whimpers. 

“Begging for my cock already? Such a pathetic needy sissy,” she pats his cheek then lets the dildo rest on his tongue. He whines when she yanks it from his mouth suctioning the toy to the mirror. “Watch yourself suck this cock and don’t stop until I tell you.” Noah approaches the toy warily and, in the mirror, Vivian positions herself to tower over the kneeling man. “Begin,” she commands, setting her jaw and resting her hands on her hips. Noah starts to lick and suck at the cock. Impatient, Vivian crosses her arms and starts tapping her foot. The click-clack of her heels makes Noah’s gaze shoot up.

“Do you want me to come over there and show you how it’s done?” She raises a threatening brow to him in the mirror. He quickly hollows his cheeks and sucks down the toy. Pathetic. Vivian stalks over to the man on the floor and cards her fingers into his short brown hair, gripping the root. “Pathetic,” she sneers, forcing him to take more until he gags. She stops immediately, loosening her hold on his head but not letting go completely. “Suck.” And he does, with a fervor she’s never seen before. Saliva dribbles from his mouth and he fists the rest he can’t swallow down. 

“That’s my good girl,” she coos, stepping back to take in the sight before her. Noah starts to moan, and his long lashes flutter and his rhythm starts to falter. He groans softly, and that’s when she notices the damp spot on the fabric. Vivian grips Noah by the hair once again and pulls him off the dildo. “Get up,” she bites out. 

Noah stands with shaky legs, eyes cast to the ground. “What did you do?” Vivian asks her voice firm but not mean.

“I… I came without permission,” he whispers. 

“Say it again.”

“I came without permission, mistress,” his voice wavers but his eyes finally meet hers, sad and pleading. 

“You came without permission,” she echoes. “Bend over the bed. Now.” Vivian points at the bed, eyes still fixed on him. Noah shuffles and stumbles to the bed, trying to keep his composure. He sucks in a breath when she hikes up the dress around his hips exposing his lace panties. 

He flinches when Vivian rubs the leather paddle over his ass, “Count out loud or I start over.” 

“Y-yes Miss V,” his voice starts to shake again. “I understand.”

“Bad” slap! Noah’s body lurches forward slightly. “One!” he grunts.

“Girls” slap! “Two!” his pathetic whimper cracks his voice. Vivian glances down to see his legs starting to shake.

“Get” smack! She strikes Noah’s other ass cheek with the same intensity. “Three!” 

“Punished!” smack! “Four!” Noah hiccup sobs when Vivian rubs the puddle over this reddening ass. “I can’t wait to see if there is a lace imprint on your beautiful ass. Why don’t we see, hm? She taunts, turning from the quivering man on the bed to put away the paddle. She rummages around the bag for her harness and tosses it onto the bed right in front of him.

Without warning, she steps behind Noah and rips the panties down to his ankles where she quickly unfastens the heels from his ankles. “Stand up,” she commands, void of emotion. Noah hastily kicks off the heels and panties. He doesn't rise tall and confident, now his head hangs low and his shoulders hunch. She balls up the soiled panties and throws them on the bed before picking up the harness. “You know I could have given you the most intense orgasm of your life for your special day,” Vivian says as she slips on the harness around Noah’s hips, resting just above his cock cage. “But you had to go and ruin it.” She huffs in disappointment, gripping his wrist to turn him around. “Open up.” Noah reluctantly opens his mouth wide, and Vivian shoves the panties in. “I could have used that pretty mouth of yours for so much more.” Noah’s cheeks redden even more, and his eyes turn misty. “Awh, is the pretty girl going to cry? Good.” 

Vivian turns and stalks over to the mirror yanking the dildo off the reflective surface. Making her way to her bag for a blindfold she pays no mind to the man in the room. After attaching the dildo to the harness, Vivian slaps on her favorite cuffs around Noah’s surprisingly delicate wrists. Noah’s chest starts to heave, his breathing quickens- but he doesn’t use their gestural safeword, and doesn’t flip her off either. 

“Are you ok, sweet Noah?” her question true and full of concern as she wipes the tears from his cheeks. He nods with a muffled “uh huh” and gives her a thumbs up and she can’t help but laugh a little. She takes a deep breath to center herself and notices Noah doing the same. 

Vivian doesn’t stop herself from resting her hands on his chest as he takes in another deep breath, intently listening to the way he breathes and, on the exhale-

She pushes him back onto the bed, his eyes go wide yet a small chuckle tumbles from his gagged mouth. Leaning over Noah, she slides the blindfold over his eyes, “You don’t get to see me come undone.” She smirks, giving his cheek a slap. 

Vivian takes inventory of the scene before her, Noah on his back with his legs dangling over the bed, eyes covered, mouth gagged, and wrists bound. His breathing has steadied, and his cock remains soft in its cage. If she’s being honest, she is very impressed with how Noah is handling the scene. Without another thought, she disrobes her lower half before padding over to the table once again to her bag for lubricant. 

After coating the silicone cock in a water-based lube, Vivian straddles Noah’s hips careful not to touch any part of him. His punishment is to be deprived, touch included. 

Vivian takes her time, letting her walls adjust to the thick fake cock. Unabashed, she lets out a wanton groan deep from her throat when she takes it to the hilt before bouncing up and down pressure building in her core. Noah’s muffled whimpers fuel her desire as she rides the cock. 

“This could be you coming undone,” Vivian moans, sinking down on the silicone dildo strapped around Noah’s hips. She’s close to the edge and reluctantly stops herself. “But you broke the rules!” She accents each word rocking back onto the dildo and sliding her hand between her thighs. Her breath hitches when she circles her clit with her fingers. Throwing back her head in ecstasy, her rhythm falters when the flood gates of pleasure release and she squirts all over Noah.  

“Fuck,” she groans low in her throat When she pulls herself Off the silicone dildo. Just then her phone starts buzzing, alarm ringing, “Ha, just in time,” Vivian sneers as she cleans herself with a hotel towel. She redresses and unbinds Noah's wrists and pulls the soiled panties now soaked in saliva from his mouth and removes the blindfold. His cheeks are red and his lips raw, yet his eyes light up when he sees her. 

“Nicholas wanted me to tell you, Happy Birthday,” she whispers in his ear. His cheeks flame deep crimson, and his mouth gaps open at the revelation. “Hurry up and get dressed, I’m sure he has something else planned for your birthday.” Vivian helps Noah up from the bed and then busies herself with cleaning up as he dresses. 

“Thank you, Miss Vivian,” Noah says softly. 

“Happy birthday,” she winks at him and then stops at the door to add, “Remember good girls who follow the rules get to come. See you next month Noah.” 

Shutting the door behind her she reflects on the first phone call she received from Noah and how nervous and full of shame he was. Now - months later- she is wrapped up between him and his boyfriend as a mentor of sorts as they traverse through their own kinky dynamic.

👑Royal Readers👑

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[moonbaby26]

As we know, Oda made the original seven warlords all animal themed. With Doflamingo -duh- being a flamingo 🦩💖. But in this post I wanted to add the additional reasons I find it funny that my favorite warlord is indeed, a bird. Because most birds are chaotic, evil trainwrecks if you didn’t know! Do not be fooled by their elegant propaganda of the American bald eagle, peacock, and such.

Far more bird species are of the hissing/unpredictable/possessive/oversexed/homicidal/drama queen variety.

And as part of my example, I will be introducing my pet cockatiel! He is a male, lutino color variant. I took him to the avian vet recently to get a quick nail trim (he treats my arm like a bloodied ski slope with his little feet razors otherwise).

The likeness is uncanny, right? Spiked up blond hairdo and all. 🤣

But here is my rambling list below of why Doflamingo fits the bird theming beyond just his aesthetics. Note, all species are different. These are just generalities.

1. Birds are needy, attention whores. Realistically, this comes from wanting the attention and safety of their flock. And my bird gets plenty of out of cage time with us. But oh my god, sometimes if he hears me so much as sneeze and he can’t see me…WHY AM I IN THE HOUSE, BUT NOT WITH HIM!? WHY!? RED ALERT. He starts flock calling for me, and I must respond with at least a whistle or he will begin screaming. Because surely, someone must be murdering me if I don’t come to him immediately.

2. They are complete horndogs. Seriously, everyone thinks humping inappropriate things is a male dog exclusive problem. Nope. There are professional bird behaviorists that people literally pay to come teach them how to calm their pet birds’ sexual aggression and the nightmare that can become. You have to be mindful of how you interact with them, lest they start thinking YOU are their mate and begin attacking anyone else in the house who is not you. Because they are jealous. So jealous. I only pet/preen my bird on his head. As that is perfectly platonic flock behavior. But touching anywhere else (back or chest for example) can make them think it’s sexy time. Male birds will hump the utter hell out of “favorite” objects. Birds kept with others must be monitored that no one is getting ganged up on. But it happens in the wild too. Female ducks need pepper spray or self defense classes. I’ll just leave it at that.

3. They are murderous/violent, and easily overstimulated. So my bird weighs around 80 grams give or take. As an adult human, he’s not going to take me down anytime soon. But if he wanted to, he likely could bite me hard enough to go to the bone. He never has truly bitten me, but I watch his body language. He runs up wanting to be petted. Or sits on me long enough that he falls asleep. He likes to be together, but always on his terms. If I touched him too much, or when he didn’t want it, he’d definitely bite me. People have lost eyes to larger birds. People have had to have reconstructive surgery from parrot bites. They can crush whole nuts in their beak. So what do you think they’ll do to your face when they are sitting on your shoulder and suddenly get triggered (which they very easily are)? Humans have been drowned by swans. And forget it when it comes to something like the Cassowary. You’re already dead if they really wanted you to be.

4. They are opportunistic. Oh look, more murder! People think only birds of prey are the true meat eaters. But a pelican would eat you if it thought it could swallow you. Even the smallest birds have been observed killing other birds and small mammals if they can. Food is food. They are not cute to their victims. They are survivalists. No mercy. Ever. Some baby birds actually eat their own nestmates if one sibling is stronger than the others (sorry Rosi, there really was a precedent for that 😰).

5. They are territorial. And still more murder! In my own yard we have birdhouses made for Eastern bluebirds. They’re a species that legit benefits from human intervention as bluebirds will only nest in cavities, which they have less of now because of deforestation and competition with non native species taking said cavities. Non native species (for the US anyway) of the European house sparrow in particular. House sparrows are tiny. Smaller than a bluebird. But they will slaughter a bluebird family. All over territory during breeding season. They enter the bluebird nest and will peck even the adult bluebirds to death if they can catch them on the nest. They killed a male bluebird of ours this way. Now we put up “sparrow spookers” on our active bluebird nests once eggs are in the box. It’s just mylar streamers that blow in the wind, and the sparrows are afraid to fly through it. But every breeding season we have to go through this again. Basically Riku dynasty versus Donquixote dynasty in our backyard with the invading house sparrows.

And I could go on and on really, about greed, mood swings, vanity, etc. But you get the idea now. Murder, sex, and bright plumage. Heavy emphasis on the murder especially. He really is a bird in every sense of the word. 😅

Edit: Oh! And I forgot grudges! Some birds will hold a grudge for ages. Just ask a crow. I thought my bird would be over my betrayal of the vet visit by today. Nah. He’s still pissed. He won’t come to me right now. He fakes me out to offer my hand to him, then says, nah, bitch! And opens his mouth like he rather bite. It’ll be a few days I guess. 🤣 Never betray a Donquixote!

[misteria247]

1981 Journal Entry #2:

I've lost track of how long I've been plagued by the nightmare. All I know is that I get very little sleep, and it's starting to take its toll. I've been trying to research what I can about that Mystery Caller who had started this whole thing. There's very little I've been able to find. I'd gone through countless documents and books and everything that Gravity Falls has to offer. Yet it alludes me, the answer to this nightmarish game. I'm starting to turn to the more docile anomalies to try and find answers. And what I've been getting has been.......unsettling.

For example, the other day when me, Lee and F were on a field expedition. The Leprecorns (which I personally do not like) were talking to F and Lee. Seemingly enjoying their presence and conversation, while I took notes and drew rough sketches in my journal. When one of them approached me. He was an older Leprecorn, with a slightly weathered face and eyes that held the sheen of an older man. He was staring at me, not saying a word, to the point where it made me squirm from it. It felt like he was staring straight through me like the eyes that lurked in the shadows in my nightmare.

After what felt like eons he finally spoke.

"......You've been marked laddie."

I don't think I'd ever felt my stomach drop so fast at a simple sentence, that by all accounts had nothing to do with me. I glanced up to make sure that Lee and F were still distracted before I responded to him in a low tone.

"What do you mean by that? I don't-"

The Leprecorn interrupted me at that moment, his tone firm and damning.

"Ey, I recognize the look son. You haven't been sleeping have ya? It's because yer marked. By something foul, something dark. I've seen it before. Others who've been marked by the beast."

I couldn't breathe, because I knew somehow deep in my very bones that he was talking about that anomaly who had called into the station. The anomaly who had been haunting my dreams.

"The beast....? Who is this creature? What does it want with me?"

I'd inquired, perhaps a bit desperately, wanting to know what I was up against. Instead I was met with a grim, somber expression. Like.....like he was staring at a dead man.

"I don't know much myself lad. No one really knows about the beast. But......we do know that those who are marked do not meet a good end. Just.......be careful boy. He watches."

And then he'd left, seemingly done with the conversation. Leaving me shaken beyond belief. It took everything I had to not show it when F and Lee were finally done with their conversation and we'd packed up to head home. I don't think I was successful though, because my brother stuck to my side for the rest of the evening. As if he sensed that I wasn't okay at all. I don't know what being marked means, nor do I want to. I just want this to end, before someone else is dragged into this eldritch horror.

I'm going to try and get some sleep tonight. I can't let whatever this thing is win. I'd rather die than let him stand victorious over me. I'm going to do research on how to stop the calls as well. One encounter was enough.

Signing off

Stanford Pines

1981 Journal Entry #2 continued time 3AM:

I can't stop shaking.

I can't stop, my hands they're trembling from the nightmare. It was different, after so long with the same thing it changed.

The voices from the shadows they spoke to me. They said my name, surrounded by the static of that anomaly. His tone sounded cheerful but somehow I know that it was a rouse. He wasn't cheerful at all.

He was angry.

Like a lion in a cage, he had his fangs bared towards me. He....he'd said that if I keep digging, if I don't play his game........I was going to regret it.

I don't know what he means by that. But I can take whatever he throws at me, I'm not weak. I can handle any blows he's got for me. And yet.....

Why can I not shake the feeling that something awful is on the horizon?

Signing off

Stanford Pines

[toastedseavegetable]

brain space, bone space

[poisonf0rest]

The Best Dreams Come in Threes

♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier

♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.

♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers

♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.

art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz

Lonely star, who do you shine for?

The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole. 

Your desperation won’t bring your sun back. 

Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?

You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story. 

You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate. 

And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them. 

Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage. 

It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god. 

The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—

You wake up crying. 

A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you. 

Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning. 

But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace. 

The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.

“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.

Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.

His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.

A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.

Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"

“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”

Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.

You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.

You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.

He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”

Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow. 

You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips. 

His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”

“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.

Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast. 

You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel. 

Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.

Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.

You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.

You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.

"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.

His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.

Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!” 

The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt. 

"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between. 

God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane. 

“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Like he wouldn’t already.

But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly? 

Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers.  “I’m yours, Rafayel.”

And the fabric is ripped into pieces. 

Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.

He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.

It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer. 

“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.” 

You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand. 

He loved being used like this, so long as it was you. 

So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess. 

It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead. 

And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.

You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.

With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole. 

You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?" 

At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.

Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long. 

He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy. 

"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?" 

Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.

"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."

The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.

"No. Nope. That's not an answer."

"Raf–"

His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.

Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.

Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.

Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust. 

Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream. 

Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request. 

"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.

"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”

Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric. 

You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."

"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”

You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.

Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs. 

“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—

Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape. 

Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.

You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs. 

"You’re doing this without me?" 

Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.

"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean. 

Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."

You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.

“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"

The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.

Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."

Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.

"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."

He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment. 

Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.

Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.

"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"

You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough. 

"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"

“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”

“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”

“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.” 

They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body. 

You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher. 

“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss. 

“Shh, just take it."

You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body. 

“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”

Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again. 

You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss. 

But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace. 

Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers. 

Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.

"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.

"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”

"I don't take orders from you." 

Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh. 

"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”

The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."

“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.” 

He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.

"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”

It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down. 

A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.

And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.

"Deal.”

Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes. 

One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.

Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.

"So needy, little bunny."

"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."

Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again. 

Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears. 

Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.

“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock. 

The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body. 

Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there. 

"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."

You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.

With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind. 

 “This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”

But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart. 

It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.

You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.

"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.

You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat. 

Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win. 

The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.

Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved. 

The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust. 

And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock. 

"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"

Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.

"Shit."

"Ah, please-"

It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale. 

You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.

Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.

Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"

Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling." 

"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."

His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss. 

It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.

"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."

Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.

"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"

It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.

Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position,  and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.

"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."

The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.

"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure. 

Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.

The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.

Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing. 

You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.

Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.

And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust. 

Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum. 

"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"

Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit. 

Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."

He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.

It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.

You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.

"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."

Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.

"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"

There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."

"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”

And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure. 

Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded. 

Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.

The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.

It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.

Then, the world comes crashing back.

Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets. 

"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.

The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.

Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."

"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas. 

You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.

"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible. 

"You love it."

"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."

"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides. 

The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now. 

And the nightmares never return. 

[thehappyvet]

Just a reminder if you decide to illegally take a wild animal from the wild for yourself, even if you have the best interests at heart, you could be killing it.

If you feed it the wrong diet you can cause it's bones to break or other diseases associated with mineral imbalances. If you feed it too much you could cause issues associated with obesity including excessive fat stores.

If you aren't a trained wildlife rehabilitator you won't understand the importance of preventing imprinting or humanising. So you'll cuddle it, play with it, and let your pets play with it. So it will think it can only get food from humans, and that humans and domestic pets are part of its family.

If you take it while it's still young it won't learn the necessary foraging and social skills from its parents to survive in the wild. You might joke you don't even need a cage for it, but it isn't able to go anywhere because you've made it dependant on you.

If you aren't a wildlife carer or in the animal health industry you might not realise it's injured and needs treatment. This could lead to broken bones setting in ways that the animal can't perform normal functions and suffering from a life of chronic pain. Or it could lead to it suffering a slow and agonising death.

You might also not be aware that wildlife can contain diseases that can make you sick or even kill you. You could put yourself and your loved ones at risk of serious zoonotic diseases by bringing it home.

And, if you are found to be illegally holding a wild animal without the intention of rehabilitating and releasing it, the authorities are stuck. They can't release the animal because it thinks humans and domestic pets are friends. It can't forage for itself. It can't socialise with its own kind. It could have injuries or diet associated diseases that mean it can't perform normal functions, or is suffering from chronic pain. If they released it, it would die.

Is it fair for that animal that your choices have led to it not being able to experience its life in the wild as it should?

If you take something from the wild and intend to keep it, I hope this makes you think twice.

These kinds of stories are all over social media now, but none of them tell this side. They normalise putting a wild animal though an incredibly stressful experience purely for likes and engagement.

If you want to be a hero, get accredited to be a wildlife rehabilitator. Join an amazing network of compassionate humans just like you who understand that wild things should be wild, and do everything they can to get them back there.

If you find a wild animal and you're not sure what to do, call your local veterinary clinic or wildlife rehabilitation group. Trust that we have the knowledge to make the best choices for that animal. And if you want to make those choices, join us.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[00kittenz]

── desperation. ( psh ) 📠

pair: boss!sunghoon ㅊ employee!f!reader | warnings: smut, secret relationship, age gap (sunghoon is 10 years older), semi-public s.x (?), hoon is a needy boi, coercion, quickies, dirty talk, piv, no lube, no protection (don’t be like them!) | words: 1.4k

imagine boss!sunghoon being so needy n desperate for you at all times, he just can’t seem to keep his hands off you.. just needs to cop a feel whenever he can bc he’s that obsessed w you ;( he’s also willing to skip important business meetings just so he can bring you into his office when no one’s around and have you bent over his desk— loving the way your curves hug the work uniform in all the right places..

this is my very first ever post on enhablr !

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“please?” sunghoon’s desperation grew as time went on, nothing but lust clouding his judgement. he had you pushed up against his desk, caging his arms around the slope of your waist, hindering you from any retaliation, utterly defenseless in his hold.

“i promise i’ll be super quick..!” he pleads even more, pressing wet kisses all over your face, his pouty lips still lingering along the rim of your jaw afterwards. “just need you, so so sooo bad.”

sunghoon has been “negotiating” with you for the past ten-ish or so minutes, playing every trick in the book he possibly can in getting you to fold like a sunday lawn chair for him. what may have prompted all this you wonder ? well, he simply got hard at the sight of you and now you’re the one in ‘trouble’ because he can’t function while being bricked up at work. you two had an odd relationship to say the least… he was your boss, the man you reported to every day and pick up his morning coffee before he arrives at 8 AM sharp, but you also sleep with him sometimes?? (you thought it would be just a one off occurrence but sunghoon wanted it to be a more frequent, fwb type of deal..)

you were seriously hoping that he’d leave you alone today, you had a lot of work that needed to get done within a short timeframe and distractions weren’t going to do you any good, however, you couldn’t just say no to park sunghoon. there were dozens of other women who’d kill to be in your position, they already tried to seduce him one, two many times before— except you of course. you were like the golden employee who always followed orders, listened to directions the first time, and did everything the right way, he’s never really had to reprimand you and even on the rare chances you do mess up, he’d handle it with you in private; just like how he’s doing now.

hell, sunghoon makes it excruciatingly hard to resist him. especially when his breath inched beneath your ear, silky strands of jet black hair tickling your chin as he begs for your touch.

“i told you i was busy— hoon, s-stopp !” you helplessly whine, your mind kept telling you to refuse but your body was saying a completely different story. he knew exactly where to pull the pin, knew just how to make you give in to his not-so-safe-for-work desires.

“oh are we now ?, too busy for me ? what happened to wanting to get that new promotion, huh ?” he cocks his head to the side, turning arrogant all of a sudden now that he can use something as leverage over you. it’s a shame that he has to stoop to such low levels but he’s willing to try whatever method that’ll get him exactly what he wants.

as he whispers in further detail all the naughty things he wants to do to you, your legs were brought to a tight close, wanting nothing more than to relieve the ache you felt between your plush thighs; you feel dirty, disgusting for wanting your boss to fuck your brains out, it’s unprofessional, you shouldn’t be doing this— letting him have access to you whenever he wants almost felt dehumanizing.

though, you be lying if you said he didn't strike a bone in your body, maybe 3, or 4.. 10 at most. hell, maybe even all of them. some days you were able to keep your cool and act as though he had zero effect on you— however, he was just so unable to resist at times. you couldn’t help but be attracted to him; even if he was an asshole sometimes, you secretly liked it in a sick, twisted kind of way. if he was going to play this little game then you may as well play right along, plus you weren't gonna just walk around with soggy panties without getting something in return, right ? right.

“oh ? giving in already, guess you really do want it that bad, huh ?” he smirked childishly as you finally cave in, rubbing up against him, spreading and burying his knee between your thighs.

“shut up, do you wanna? or not ?” so over his annoying little antics, you gradually wiggled your hips against his toned, muscular thighs.

“it’s cute when you act all needy for me.” his hands caressed your waist, taking your leg to his hip, in effect your pencil skirt riding up your thigh.

you felt his clothed dick against your core as he pressed his body against you. sloppily taking your tongue against his.

you've always wondered how this man could get you so hot and sweaty all over a few words. then again, as long as you’re pleased; does it really matter ?

“fuck..” you spoke, hand grabbing at his tie, the melody of his luxury belt being unwrathed gave you a tsunami of chills. “quickly, i have a meeting in..” you checked you wrist, reading the analog watch that sat delicately along your veins. “15.” you heaved heavily, he tugged down your tights physically prepping himself with his hand.

“thats enough time to make me bust twice.” he chuckled. his length entered your puffy, dewy pussy.

“quick busser !” you laughed, knowing it'd strike a chord within whenever you tease him.

taking your ass in his hands before he paces himself. “you love when my dick coats your pussy in a thick coat. so, suck it.” he groaned, kissing onto your collarbone to keep himself quiet.

his office wasn't what people would call sound proof, but at a good distance from the door, nobody could be able to hear you. but keeping you quiet would deem to be the most difficult part.

sunghoon bear hugged you keeping you tight against him, he thought fucking you in your work attire, especially your tights, had to be the sexiest shit to dance on this earth. it's honestly why he's here. the way the thin black fabric wrapped around your thighs, he could just picture your sloppy pussy, wrapping around him. balls deep. and you took him so. so. so. well.

“ugh, yesyesyes..” your ragged breathing swam through his ears, giving him an ounce more of stamina. “shit !” your clit throbbed at his lower abdomens slight back to back friction, you grind up onto him, to feel more of that reminiscing release edging you.

he nibbled at your lips before taking them against his. “shut the fuck up. you dont— hell..wanna get caught do you ?” he swatted your thigh, thrusting himself at a slower, but rougher notion.

“fe—feel so good, nggh.. hoon..” you whispered, biting at his ear.

your forehead glistened with sweat, the buttons of your shirt leaving your perky breasts opposed and exposed. you threw your head back at the pulsating between the two of you, you could feel him. throbbing, and hardening inside of you, and it turned you way the fuck on. just as your pussy throbbed against his hard.

“c'mon mama.. you wanna drench your boss’s cock? huh ?.. wanna make it all gooey with your cum ?” he pushed you closer and closer with his words, as if him ramming into you wasn't enough.

“yes.. wan' make it gooey, baby !” you whispered under your breath. throwing your head back, leaving your boobs to bounce under the escaping light of his blinds.

“then cum, be a good girl..” sunghoon’s breath quickened, he was near the edge himself, if not on it.

the two of you, moaning into each other's lusty mouths, aching for more. your groans becoming quickened and hoarse as the burning knot in your stomach leaves you in discomfort. until a strong stroke came to pop that growing bubble inside you, releasing you of all your numbness. you came onto his thickness.

sunghoon, lost it at the feel of you tightening around him, lays you down onto the desk, pushing down on your stomach. he could feel himself through passing through your entrance. just thinking about it, left him blissful.

“fuck, fuck ! 's fuckin' right, squeeze me baby..” he finally broke, leaving all his pellent inside of you, slowly pumping himself a few more times before sliding out. his figure, breathing heavily, leaning onto your heaving chest.

you could hear him chuckling after awhile of comfortable silence. “looks like you're gonna be late for your meeting miss. y/n.”

“you so owe me.” you glare up at him as if this was all his fault.

“i do ?” he kissed your tummy.

“yeah, you do actually.”

“and what may that be?” he raises his brow, pushing up his thin framed glasses.

“a real date.”

“can i take you back to my place after ?” he kissed your tummy through your shirt once more.

“deal.” you grinned, catching your breath.

you were a dirty mess. a mess that sunghoon, had absolutely no problem with cleaning up.

[lottiies]

what, too big, sweet thing?

cw: mdni, fem!reader, drabble, size difference, breeding kink, mention of birth control, aftercare

note: he could crush me. not that he would because he’s a sweetheart, but omg pleaseee i wanna be lovingly smushed by him ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀི i cannot describe the positions well, hope you guys understand

umm anyways, yes <3 thinking about how bulky he is.

him kneeling back on the heels of his feet and shoving his cock inside you while you straddle his hips, one of his hands splayed against the plush of your ass while his other arm is slung around the small of your back, keeping your back arched so you’re pressed against him all nice and snug.

you reach back to hold onto one of his hairy forearms—the one whose hand is fondling your ass. your nails leave indents on his skin, the slight tinge of sharp pain only making him slow down his pace so he can focus more on deep thrusts and making sure he buries himself to the hilt, until his balls are pressed up against your bottom.

or when he’s prone boning you, rutting into you from behind and making the mattress shake. your hands clawing at the sheets so hard your knuckles turn white. it’s only natural to need to clutch onto something when a hunk of a man is making your vision all blurry and rearranging your insides. right?

“leon…so big…fuck.” your sentences are all chopped up and spoken through high-pitched gasps, all you can do is say whatever words come to mind first.

“i know, i know i’m big. feels good, doesn’t it? you love this dick?”

geez, what a bastard. you nod eagerly.

one of his hands leaves the side of your hip, instead reaching over to slide his hand on top of yours. massive, of course, his fingers spread yours apart to accommodate the size of his. and god, you’re sure your fingers can’t spread anymore than that.

or hello? when he has you in a mating press, murmuring false promises of getting you pregnant against the shell of your ear. “c’mon sweet girl, you’d look so pretty with your stomach all swollen. what do you think?”

yours hands settle on his biceps, squeezing the built up muscles. so beefy. the headboard is slamming against the wall so aggressively you’re scared the wood will chip and break. okay, actually, no you’re not. you’re not even worried about that. you have better things to be concerned about, like whether leon is going to break you in half or not.

leon’s very aware of how big he is compared to you, even with his mind all clouded with thoughts of how good your cunt is and how much he wants to make you gush around his cock, he still manages to keep some rationality and keeps some of his weight off of you.

“mhm, want it. wanna get knocked up by you.” you whine in response, acting as if you weren’t on birth control and way too fucking unprepared for such a thing. not a problem, a girl can fantasize, can’t she?

it’s always so cute to him when you cum, the way your entire body writhes around while he cages you in entirely, the way you babble his name out endlessly, and he has to kiss you to shut you up. “so noisy.”

he always takes care of you afterwards. cleaning you up, massaging your entire body because yeah, being manhandled into different positions as if you’re a soft pretzel is taxing!

“here?” he asks, his hands on your hips, kneading away the discomfort that had built there. you’re just glad you didn’t get a cramp while he was fucking you.

he can’t help but laugh a bit (a lot) when you try to get up and your knees buckle. what an ass. but he’s also nice, so he carries you to whatever destination you desire until you tell him you’re completely okay.

[hybbart]

Day 2506: The world almost ends...

Short story below

The last thing Tango could recall was laying on the ground in a warm pool of his own blood, staring up at a sea of faces gnashing their teeth and claws into his limbs.

And thinking, none of you are Jimmy.

Then everything burned away into darkness.

Yet the world did not end.

It reformed itself a pool of indiscernible reds, an incomplete, deafening whisper, and a biting stench.

A barrier draped itself out over it all. The first shape to ever form, outstretched to block out the colours and sounds and smells. The first feeling accompanied it, something soft and structured, dragging the whole world back down.

And Tango thought for the first time, and he thought, that is Jimmy.

The world was swallowed once more, in its infancy before anything could take form. So, it tried again.

This time it created more than just red. Blacks, blues, greens. Yellow. Tango reached out for it, but had no body with which to do so. Trapped by nothing. There were sounds but they were somewhere else where he wasn’t. Skin he did not have itched and burned. If he could only exist enough to reach, but what little there was soon slipped away. The first, last, and only thing this Tango knew was despair.

So, it tried again.

In this one Tango had a body, he knew, but it was a cage. Cold, stiff, unyielding to him rattling it, begging for freedom. He still couldn’t reach Jimmy, only a shadow in the pool. He screamed, but it made no sound, and he went unseen.

So, it tried again.

Everything burned. Not an inch of his cage went unbitten. If he could he would tear it all off. This time Jimmy heard him, but it did Tango little good. There were too many sounds, too many smells, and they all ripped him apart until there was nothing left.

So, it tried again.

And again, and again, and again.

Until finally the world began to settle into place.

Tango peeled open his eyes, staring up at the clouds, body numb and heavy from the pain. It was like his muscles had turned into snakes biting each other every time he moved, but he could move. He could feel, and think, and hear the nearby sound of bird song.

He tried calling out for Jimmy, voice like shards of glass to his throat and ears. It was good enough. There Jimmy was, leaned over him, blocking out the sun. Though it still burned to do so Tango could feel the weight of a hand on his own. He wished he could assure Jimmy that he was fine.

Jimmy watched him silently. Tango reached out for him again, tears in his eyes. “Jimmy.” He croaked, trying to beckon the avian forward. But he would not move. Tango began to sob. “You’re here. You’re here.”

He opened his mouth. It was as though the whole world went silent to listen. No voice came. Nothing but a sickening crunch. Tango’s vision swam, consumed by Jimmy. Old blood poured from his mouth, drenching Tango below, around the mangled remains of beating flesh. No light filled his eyes, not the bright light of the sun or his own inner sunshine he always carried, or even the black flames consuming his wings. They were as lifeless as the dried mould clinging to his jaw bone and the grey of his cheek.

Tango couldn’t scream.

His own heart wrenched him awake. The rest of him delayed, eyes darting and muscles cramping. Something was squeezing his left arm to death until it was numb. His eyes began to sting from the light piercing right into them. A muffled voice filled the air, and a shadow cast over to block the sun.

“Are you okay?” It asked.

Tango was in too much pain to reply. The shadow stretched out far to canopy the whole sky from view. Wings. They were wings. Tango gasped, trying desperately to call out. “J-”

But his eyes adjusted soon enough, and before him was not feathers made of fall wheat and butter. These were a dusty brown, only golden in the light of the afternoon sun. The eyes that stared down upon him were a piercing sky blue and the shoulders were far too broad. New panic settled within Tango’s bones. Too much of his body hurt to run away.

“Oh, good, you’re awake this time.” He said, voice most certainly not Jimmy’s. His grin was too sharp. “I was starting to think you were just gonna kick the bucket.” The stranger shifted, grabbing something far beyond Tango’s view. “Which would be quite a shame given how much of my supplies you’ve used up.”

Some brightly coloured cylinder was held up towards his face. A water bottle, Tango’s brain finally provided after several seconds. Tango managed to move his mouth enough to accept, its straw preventing him from spilling too horridly over himself. Even still, he quickly found himself choking, sputtering up much of what made it into his mouth. The stranger hummed to himself, waiting for Tango to cease his coughing before trying again, this time one gloved hand cradling the back of Tango’s head to hold him up just slightly. The water went down much easier. Only after it was taken away did it occur to Tango it may not be the best to trust the liquid. He was already a soft breeze away from death, what did it matter?

Because you still have to find Jimmy.

The stranger yelped, but Tango ignored him as he tried to push himself up. “Hey, there!” Hands found their way to the back and front of his torso, the only thing keeping him from collapsing back down as the brief pulse of energy abandoned him. “You took at least fifteen chomps, there, buddy, you’re in no condition to be on your feet.”

Tango tried to explain himself, tried to yell at the man. But all he could get out when he said Jimmy’s name was a squeak that tore up his throat. Insufficient. Though he tried to fight back, the stranger laid him back down. Tango tried not to sob. Everything hurt, everything was going horridly wrong, and his rancher was probably dead in a ditch somewhere. He’d follow soon enough at this rate. It was all so pointless-

Warmth wafted through the air. Sweet and achingly familiar. Tango’s head lulled to watch the stranger as he held up a fork towards him, the fluffy pasty dotted with berries and dripping syrup. “I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda live off instant pancake mix at the moment. If you can eat.”

Tango wasn’t sure he could, but he accepted the offer anyways. Even just the smell would have brought tears to Tango’s eyes if he could cry. The bites kept coming until Tango hadn’t the strength to eat anything more. His body screamed at him to both stop and eat, desperate for the food Tango had been denying it and lacking the strength to continue, stomach rolling in that fashion that he knew meant it would all come back up if he tried.

Silence returned while the stranger finished the rest, most of it still there. Anything else might have made Tango throw up from the smell anyways. All he could think of instead was breezy summer mornings, sat at an uneven oak table covered in blemishes that they never got around to replacing, throwing plastic tablecloths over instead. Coffee that became tea that became increasingly questionable flower water that became tea once more. The distant sounds of mooing and much closer sounds of barking, and, somewhere in between, a bird song matching whatever was on the stereo.

Why had they left? They should have stayed on the ranch. He should have tried harder to convince Jimmy not to go, should have put his foot down. When that bridge came into view he should have immediately turned them back around. They saw the ocean, and what good did it do them? Jimmy died, lost and far away from home, and Tango would soon join him...

The next time Tango woke up it was early morning. Something loud had ripped him from his slumber, but he could not for the life of him recall what it was. As best he could he looked around, and found the stranger shutting a cabinet set against a far wall. Tango must have made some sort of noise, because his head immediately swivelled towards him. “You’re awake again.” He said, matter of factly. There was too much energy in his hops to a kitchen. Did all avians wake up at the crack of dawn?

It was almost hard to watch the man, actually. Tango had seen it with Grian, but it hadn’t registered. Because he was a puffball and it only seemed natural, or because he���d never had reason to note it. This strangers talons similarly rarely touched the ground, taking leaps and bounds to reach for anything. Wings casually unfurled themselves to glide him across the room. It was so different to Jimmy, who stumbled his way everywhere, only used his wings for balance.

More food was set in front of him, this time a small bowl of mixed berries. “I already ate.” Explained the stranger while he held out a spoonful. “If it’s too hard to chew I can blitz it into a smoothie.”

“No.” Tango croaked. Easier than last time, but his throat still felt like it was splintering.

The stranger quietly fed him. The sun was quickly rising, but the avian didn’t seem to have anywhere to be. At some point Tango thought he heard the bark of a dog, but no one else came into the sky-lit room. The stranger’s clothes were not the sort one wore when they knew zombies were nearby. His sweater was sleeveless and his gloves were for sport, to keep frog scratching his hands and keeping a good grip, rather than the heavy leather work gloves Jimmy wore. The sort of thing they’d wear on peaceful days at the ranch, not the city Tango thought he was last in.

“So,” The man rocked his head slightly as he put the half-empty bowl aside. “You got a name, stranger? If you’re up for talkin’ of course.”

“Tango.” His voice scratched worse than it usually did, almost incoherent to his own ears. No long sentences, then. “You?”

“Wels, at your service.” He did a small bow, smile widening. “There’s not a lot of survivors out here these days, Tango. You musta come quite a ways?”

He nodded, wincing at the sting in his neck. Had he been bitten there? “We came from the mountains.”

Wels’ eyebrow rose. His hands began moving just outside Tango’s vision, fiddling with something. “’We’, huh? Run into some bad luck?”

“I’m looking.” Tango quickly snapped. “We got separated. He’s here.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

Of course he didn’t. Tango had never been the optimistic sort. It was Jimmy who comforted them when things went wrong, calmed Tango down when he lost his temper. Thought there’d be an adventure to have exploring uncharted territory. If it was Jimmy here and now instead, he’d be just as determined as day one. Tango couldn’t do that, could barely hope to even find a body. But... “If I stop looking, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The room fell quiet. A rough hand lifted the stump of Tango’s left arm, peeling something off it. It stung, but not as much as the air did seconds later. Tango grit his teeth. It last too long, but eventually it subsided into a dull ache. Even without looking he knew it was swollen and ugly, raw from wearing his arm for too long. It would take too much time to pull on and off without help. Why was he so stupid as to design it that way? Like he’d never be alone?

The dog outside continued to bark.

“Well, then,” Wels sighed. “Guess if you gotta keep looking then I’ll have to keep my eyes open, too.”

Tango strained to shake his head, “You don’t have to-

“Hey, it’s my city. Who better to keep an eye out? Besides,” He stood up, spreading his wings wide enough to block out the skylight, “You aren’t really getting out of bed any time soon, and you can’t exactly get back down without my help anyways.”

“Down?” Tango murmured to himself, turning towards the sunlight.

His vision was still a mess, but he could see it. Behind stacks of supplies and reorganized furniture was a wall-wide glass balcony, doors wedged wide open. Peeking over the rail was the very top of a half-dozen skyscrapers he recognized from the ground.

Wels hopped over towards the open doors, grabbing various items from a table. A bag, rope, a sword- was that metal gauntlets? By the time he’d kitted out he looked like he’d raided a museum exhibit. When he noticed Tango’s staring he gave him a grin and a thumbs up. “Gotta go for a water and medicine run. Be back before the sun sets.” He jumped up onto the railing, but paused. “Say, uh, what’d your buddy look like? In case I run into him.”

“Blond.” Tango rasped. “Lanky, bit taller than you. Long yellow wings. Should be with a big black dog with no eyes. Hopefully...”

Something in the man’s wings tensed, smile falling away. “A canary avian?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you- how did you say you got separated.”

“He was gone when I woke up. He kept-”

“Wandering off?”

The blazeborn’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah... What-”

But Wels unfurled his wings once more, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll talk later, when I get back. You should rest up, get back on your feet.”

With that he was gone.

Tango could feel his heart hammering in his chest, wounds pulsing down his limbs. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling. How on earth was he supposed to rest after that?

[mitsouya]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃

including michael kaiser, rin itoshi, and reo mikage with fem!reader

he sits beside you on the couch, engrossed in the random shows on tv. you, on the other hand, are busy reserving a table for your date at the new restaurant downtown. the sheer delight in your voice makes him glad he succeeded in emptying his tightly packed schedule for you.

[saturday night at 7 is available. would that be okay?]

a bright smile adorns your face upon hearing the employee's query. securing a table feels fortunate; it's not always easy on weekends, after all.

"alright, let me ask my husband first," you say to the phone and raising your eyebrows in silent expectation, demanding for his response.

⌗MICHAEL — the second that word comes off your lips, best believe michael is already grinning like an idiot.

him, your husband? seriously?

he never thinks too deeply about marriage—though he does want to tie the knot with you when the time's right—but he loves how endearing it sounds when you call him that. there's a mischievous glint in his sapphire eyes before he moves closer to your body.

"her husband says yes."

being the menace he is, he announces directly to the speaker, loud and clear, earning soft giggles from you.

"do you hear me? her husband—"

you cut him off and quickly apologize to the poor employee, all while suppressing the laugh that threatened to spill out of your mouth. he will tease you about this for the rest of the evening, and you will spend hours caged between his tattooed arms, listening to him yapping about his dream wedding. not that you complained.

⌗RIN — convinces himself he maintained his facade well, but the subtle dusting of red on his cheeks betrays him. he's unable to focus on the tv screen because did you really refer to him like that without warning?

realizing you're still waiting for his answer, rin fakes a cough to even his tone and mutters, "fine," loud enough for the employee on the other side to hear.

immediately shoots you a questioning glare after you hang up. he tries to act unaffected (which he fails miserably) and asks, "what was that?"

"what was what?" you playfully hum.

"you did that on purpose."

"i don't know what you're talking about, baby."

the slight pout on his lips amuses you more than you want to admit. he hides his burning face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something you can't pinpoint.

when you chuckle at his sudden clinginess, he looks up to you with those big, sparkling round eyes that remind you of his younger self. he's going to wife you up someday.

⌗REO — you know damn well reo's sickeningly in love with you, and somehow you think it's okay to casually address him as ‘my husband’? are you trying to make him explode?

the tv show is long forgotten and he's all over you in an instant, giving you a bone-crushing hug along with a sweet, dopey smile that you adore so much. you can whine and say it's just a prank, but it's too late to take it back. he already envisions the whole wedding thing.

"whatever my wifey wants," he speaks to the phone, all giddy and lovestruck. "rent the entire restaurant if you want, wifey. or buy it. or don't. actually, i'll just build you one."

before his rambling causes the employee even more confusion, you shut him up with a kiss and proceed to finish the reservation.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Fishbowl Bones

Jason Todd regrets a lot of things in life. He regrets how he hurt others in his Pit Madness and how he made Tim's eyes turn weary, filled with unease, like the younger boy is watching a bomb timer tick down.

Regrets how distant he feels from his family and from his friends like the part of him who knows how to socialize stayed buried in that blasted grave.

Regrets that his stupid teenage decisions lead him to his death.

Sometimes, in the darkest corner of his heart, he even regrets being taken in by Bruce. Hewonders what life would have been like if he had stayed on the streets, if he had lived as a regular unfortunate boy.

An earlier grave, maybe, but one that didn't have him come back broken like this. He would have just been another lost soul in the city, forgotten and remembered by no one, but free of the torment of fighting all his life.

It's not good to think like that, he knows, but Jason can't help the thoughts from racing through his mind on the roughest of nights. When the smell of gun powder, copper and sweat cloat him, as screams ring in his ears.

When his soul is soaked in blood.

It's hard not to think that.

Jason has so many regrets that when he stumbles across the Bracelet of Reverse on a mission in the Infinite Realms, he slips it on without second thought.

He knows the myth surrounding it. Apparently, it belonged to the old Ghost Queen, the unfortunate wife of the old Ghost King, who abused her for years with his ring of Rage and Crown of Fire. She created it to flee to a world the King could not reach.

This is a world in a timeline similar to the moment of her biggest regret—accepting Pariah Dark's proposal. She could correct the moment and live a whole new life in that timeline, trapped in a fantasy as Clockwork closed her in, caging her within her new life.

The time god made it a punishment for her overstepping into his domain, cutting that world off from the multiverse and letting it float in its solution.

"You gain what you wanted." The Ancient of Time said, "But you will lose what you had and could have had."

No one knows how her new world went—if Pariah was sealed or not, seeing as the Queen was the one to gather the Ancients in all other timelines—but the idea of correcting the biggest mistake of one's life was tempting enough that people scrambled for her bracelet, even if the world was a trap.

The very same one Jason stumbled upon. He uses the same one, ignoring the cries of his brothers, who watch helplessly as Jason slips it on.

The bracelet picks up the regrets from the darkest corner of his heart, and in a flash sends him away. Jason blinks, from one moment to the next, his world shifts and he finds himself a homeless child with a tire iron in his hand.

In front of him, rest the Batmobile all wheels ripe for the picking.

Jason stares, the weight of his choose, hanging in the air before he turns and runs. He runs away from his future, from the pain, from his salvation and damnination in equal parts.

He eventually stops running. Surprise, his feet take him to his Red Hood safe house. Right now, it's still the broken-down and condemned arcade because it's years in the past. Because he's there is no Red Hood, defender of Crime Alley, just a lonely, underfed boy standing in the middle of the room.

Outside, he hears the Batmoible race down the street, revving its powerful engine and fading away in the distance like his fading future.

Jason Todd, age thirteen but soul twenty-five, is no longer a Bat.

Life goes on, and he learns to survive the streets again. He trains his body to move as he used to, using his skills to not be a hero but a survivor, stopping crimes if they happen in front of him.

He never goes looking for danger.

Nightwing leaves the city, and Batman no longer has his bright colored shadow. There are times Bruce gets hurt when he shouldn't have because he was supposed to have back up there to help him.

Jason ducks his head and pretends to not see.

Then, one day, Robin returns because Bruce never learns. Jason expects it, having been counting the days as they move on. He's been in this world for two years and has built a reputation for being forcefully neutral.

He won't join any gangs, but he won't let them push him around. He steals from the stupid rich with the hacking skills of his past and sends it to himself as a false insurance claim for his mother. He bought the old arcade with it- under the table in a shady deal for far more then the place is worth- and slowly build his old safe house.

He's armed to the teeth, living nocturnal, only leaving his safe haven at night. Some street kids think he's a vampire, which is amusing. Jason doesn't try to go back to school. He has the money but none of Bruce's resources.

He can't fake grades or proof of guardians. CPS is a genuine threat again, and he refuses to give them a chance to try and drag him to those houses working as fronts for trafficking or, worse, the Court of Owls recruit centers.

Jason doesn't have a plan or goal to work towards. He has no friends, family, or even small connections. He sometimes goes to cafes with TVs, watching the news while drinking coffee. He also reads the newspapers, trying to keep up with whatever mission Bruce is working on.

Crime Alley citizens are weary and dismissive of him in equal parts. They know he's little Todd, but they don't know anything else, which scares them.

How is he surviving? Where is he getting the money? How does he move like that? No one knows, but they can see it—the skills of his past life resting just underneath his skin, waiting for anyone to test him.

Jason doesn't bother reassuring them. He doesn't bother with much besides the occasional food run, laundry mat visits, gas station travel centers with showers, and TV viewing in public spaces. He stays inside his arcade- still looking bad from the outside but homey and comforting inside- filling his days with books and building machines.

He just wants to survive—nothing more, nothing less.

The entire time, he wonders when Tim will finally snap and force Bruce to take him in. It makes sense to him that the only Robin who actively makes himself a vigilante would eventually become the next Robin. Tim knew Bruce's real ID for years before his death forced him to act.

This Bruce isn't that close to the violence he was when Jason died, but he's getting there. He is becoming reckless. Tim will be forced to act sooner or later, and Jason makes bets with himself on what night will be his debut.

He is not expecting someone else completely different being the new Robin.

Jason is shocked to see the hero re-appear, rescuing Tim Drake on TV, and realizes he doesn't know who this world's Robin is. Worse, his costume starkly differs from every Robin he's known. Jason risks exposal by breaking into the Batcave, having to avoid traps never before placed and hack the Batcomputer.

When he finds Robin's file, he is even more confused by what he reads. It makes no sense, especially for Bruce to bring to this level, for a Robin to have so little information.

Even Tim's clone friend Kon-El had a bigger file when he was first found.

All he gets is a name, an age, and a meta confirmation. (Even if the word meta isn't used yet in this timeline.)

Who is Danny Fenton, age fifteen, and why does he have Clockwork's amulet on his Robin costume?

Jason prays it's not because of him. He never asked for a rescue, and he won't go without a fight. He logs out, and slips though the back caves, mentally planning on hacking Lex once more to upgrade his home against "Ectoplasm" since that what this Danny's powers are based on.

Worlds away, the Waynes wait for the Ghost King outside a swirling portal. He went in to save Jason from a fantasy world before it could trap him in his worst nightmare. Before it made him forget his real life.

He may have to follow that world's rules and play whatever role the world needed him to, but the King swore he would find Jason and bring him home.

[imyourbratzdoll]

I crave a good fluffy fic with wolverine, his wife is a badass and when someone threatens him she loses her shit and kicks their ass🫡 with so much disrespect.

hey baby, I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you enjoy what I did, it's a bit more violent than you probably wanted.

summary - a dumb 'bad guy' lures you and your husband out, things take an escalated turn when he threatens your husband.

warning - SUPER violent, like extreme level probably, swearing, mentions of sex, dude talks of touching what's his but nothing triggering, dick and balls suffer rip.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You couldn’t believe this guy, he was really threatening your husband right in front of you. Thinking he was all tough because he could throw fire or some shit? You didn’t know what he could do, except talk a lot of shit. That was probably his power. What was his name again? Captain Talks Shit? Shits A lot? Little Fucker? Who cares, all you care about right now is that he’s threatening your man. 

You walk out of the shadows, having heard enough because honestly. Why do the bad guys always talk for so long? Have none of them realised or picked up from past bad guys mistakes? It was tiring and a waste of your time because you and Logan could’ve been gone by now, screwing each other silly, probably somewhere extremely risky. But, noooo. You had to listen to this jackass.

“Listen, dick licker. If you don’t stop threatening my fucking husband. I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with it.” You growl, moving to stand in front of Logan. (Sure, he would have protected himself and it may look weak to the other guy that a woman is standing in front of an extremely large man, in more ways than one, wink wink. But you happen to know that this turns your husband on and who are you to deny him his fantasies?)

“Is that a threat?” Captain Dipshit sneers.

“Did it sound like a fucking compliment, Princess?” You watch as he eyes you, sizing you up and in his mind he’s probably thinking ‘yeah, I can take this chick.’ You hope his ego deflates before you kill him.

“Listen, Babe. This is between us men, now why don’t you run along and go make us a sandwich or something. Maybe put on some cute lingerie and wait for me in the bedroom ‘cause once I’m done with your husband here. You’ll be creamin’ around me.”

Logan shakes his head, stepping way back. He remembered when he accidentally said something similar and he was in a coma for a whole month, not even his fast healing could help him. 

It was like a switch turning on, the beast that lived within you had been released from its cage and not even God could save this man now. You stalked towards him, he still smirked thinking he was safe. You jump, wrapping your legs around his neck and twisting, bringing him down using a move your good friend Natasha had taught you. You move swiftly while he is down, sending a harsh kick to his face, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose and possibly jaw breaking. You grab him by his hair and lift him, a large grin covering your face as you bring him eye level with you. 

“You wanna repeat that, Princess?” You bring him closer, whispering in his ear. “How bout you go make me a sandwich, put on a cute set and I’ll bash your dick in with a baseball bat. How do ya like the sound of that? Cause I love it.” 

He struggles within your grip, trying to swing at you but with your other hand that isn’t gripping his hair. You snap his arms, relishing in the sound of bones breaking. His screams echo the warehouse, dumbarse had lured us in here without a backup plan or backup. 

You let go of your grip on his hair, immediately switching to gripping his throat instead. “You don’t like my plan, Princess? Rethinking the whole thing? Cause ya already pissed me off by threatening the man I love, but then you had the balls to say THAT? Tell me, Princess. Just between us girls. Did mummy not give you any hugs as a kid? Cause how did you think this was gonna go? You could’ve ‘killed’ the Wolverine, but he wouldn’t have stayed dead. No. But if he heard you touching me, touching what’s HIS. He would’ve torn you to shreds, but slowly. Very slowly. It’s what makes me love him.” You pat the man’s cheek, grinning as he winces. 

“How bout an apology and I won’t kill you.”

“F–fuck you.” He spits at you, SPITS. Not even clear fucking spit, this shit has blood in it. You lift your hand, wiping the spit with the back of it and then onto his clothes. 

Your face screwed up. “Well, that was stupid.” With quick movements, you throw him, watching him crash into a wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Your hand reaches out and a bat flies into it. “You’re not wearing that cute set and I don’t have a sandwich, but this will do.” He tries to shuffle away, his eyes wide. You stalk toward him and swing, smashing his dick and balls with one hit. Think Superman merged with Hulk strength, how do you think his twig and berries did?

A scream rips out of his mouth before his eyes roll back and he falls backwards. You frown and poke him with your bat. “Hey mista, you dead?” You look at Logan, “Bitch passed out.” He shakes his head at the pout on your lips. 

He walks over and places a kiss on your head, “C’mon, let’s go home now or better yet. You ready to do something real risky, Sweets.” Your eyes light up.

“Do you mean…?!”

Logan nods, smirking. “I’ll finally let you fuck me while I drive.” Your squeals escape as you jump into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for!” And with that, Logan carries you out as you stare at him dreamily.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[amourane]

smitten

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 0.7k

summary: jeonghan is completely smitten for you and he refuses to admit it.

warnings: noneee

a/n: aaa i hope you guys like this <3 i wasn't gonna post two fics in a row but i whipped this one up in about half an hour so i hope you guys enjoy it! not sure if i should make it a mini series, lmk!

Jeonghan found it hard to breathe with you around. He found it hard to focus, to concentrate. He had always been one to keep his cool, to stay calm and collected but ever since he met you all logical thinking had been thrown out of the window. He wasn’t a type of guy that would get nervous and he certainly wasn’t the type of guy that would get distracted. Jeonghan prided himself in being the stoic and very attractive star student at Seoul National University. 

So why did he find himself completely befuddled in front of you?

You who were so beautiful, so pretty, so gorgeous yet so annoying. He had never met another girl who would claw at his bones more than you. Your tinkling laugh and bright shiny eyes. It all made him go positively crazy and he couldn’t do anything to help that. You had this magnetic pull that would drag Jeonghan along despite his protests. 

His friends had all teased him for it. They had seen the way his cheeks would flush whenever you stared at him or the way he would look at you with the most lovesick eyes. Nevertheless, he continued to deny his affections. 

It didn’t matter anyway. You were too dense to notice how everyone seemed to snicker whenever you went up to Jeonghan or the way everyone would peer over their textbooks whenever you asked to partner up with the infamous student. You, who’s smile was so bright, failed to see how everyone could tell how smitten Yoon Jeonghan was for you even if he denied it. 

“Hannie!” Your voice echoed through the hallway and Jeonghan winced at the loud sound. His expression remained neutral as you came bounding up towards him with the most adorable grin on your face. “Guess who just got full marks on her test? Me!”

The test paper you shoved in his face made Jeonghan go cross eyes as he struggled to decipher your scrawled answers and the red pen the professor had marked with. The biggest thing that caught his eyes was the 100 in the top right hand corner. 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You pouted as you removed the test paper from his face. “I worked so hard for that Hannie, I pulled all nighters and everything! I didn’t even ask you for any help, isn’t that impressive?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan felt the cage of butterflies fly open in his stomach and he gulped. “That’s amazing Y/n but you really shouldn’t stay up revising, it actually decreases the chance of taking information in. You can enter sleep deprivation and it has a really high chance of simply going blank in exams and that’s not good at all you know.”

Your smile remained on your face as Jeonghan continued to rattle off the side effects of lack of sleep. You stepped closer towards him, only inches away. Jeonghan’s breath hitched as he stared at your pretty face. His eyes flickered to your lips and then your eyes. The eyes he could stare into forever and not get bored with. 

“Then you help me revise. I could use help from that brain of yours. I actually did go blank in my exam but it wasn’t because of sleep deprivation.”

Jeonghan knew better than to ask what but he couldn’t help the curiosity that was gnawing at his mind like a beast begging to be set free. He stared at you, your bright expression rendering him speechless as he tried to come up with words to say.

“What was it then?” He croaked out, voice trembling at the close proximity. “Why did you get distracted?”

You giggled leaning in closer so that your lips were brushing his ear. “You.”

Jeonghan froze, his whole body stood still like ice and you continued to giggle and he saw the way your smile seemed to grow bigger. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you step back, the test paper still clutched in your hands. He felt his cheeks burst into flames as his jaw hung open in shock at your words. 

“See you later Hannie! I’ll pop over so we can exchange notes.” 

You waved him goodbye before skipping away as if you hadn’t just caused the poor guy to melt in his shoes. Jeonghan gripped his textbooks tightly and he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. The beating of his heart could be heard in his ears and he tried desperately to calm himself down.

You were the only one capable of making Yoon Jeonghan grow completely flustered and he hated it.

[3d-wifey]

This is such a niche ask, but I saw that you do Mortal Kombat. Can I ask for some flirty intro dialogue? You know like the conversation the characters have b4 the fight? But like with a Goddess!reader who's basically Hecate? like a Nyx/Hecate fusion if that makes sense. Oh and can you do what some of her taunts would be? I feel like those and her fatalities would be illusion and tarot based :)))

Flirty Intro Dialogue

Pairings: Johnny Cage x Reader; Noob Saibot x Reader; Erron Black x Reader; Dark Raiden x Reader; Cassie Cage x Reader; Shang Tsung x Reader

A/N: (Back to using gifs for headcanons). This is just for the MK 11 timeline. Once MK 1 comes out, I'll do new ones. Had to do a little research fan fiction-wise for this one, but I got a good amount out (plus some taunts the reader would say during the fight). I put a lot of thought into the reader's backstory in the MK universe, even though it'll never be used lol. Please, feel free to request more of these characters or some intros for different characters. Maybe even request a one-shot? Who knows ;)

Behind the Scenes: You know how when Erron Black shows up in the intro, he's looking at a Wanted poster of his opponent? I feel like Goddess!reader has something like that where she's looking at a tarot card that's different for each character before it disappears into mist. Another opening is the reader strutting in shapeshifted into her opponent, before turning back. Her friendship fatality has her stirring a comically large witch's caldron and Noob Saibot pops out in a cloud of mist.

You: Jonathan Carlton

Johnny Cage: Sexy witch goddess.

You: I…Hmm.

-

You: I can feel the magic coursing through your veins. You are one of my Night children, Jonathan.

Johnny Cage: You don’t mean that literally, right? Because it would suck to have the hots for my mom.

You: (sighs)  And what a waste.

-

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: Do you dream of me often, Mortal?

Johnny Cage: Ohho, absolutely.

-

Johnny Cage: Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming.

You: (sighs) How many times must you make that joke?

Johnny Cage: You know you love it!

-

Johnny Cage: So…what are my chances of getting you into my next movie?

You: I’ve told you. I have no desire to appear on your “big screen”.

Johnny Cage: I was thinking we’d make a different kind of movie.

-

Johnny Cage: Goddess of dreams, huh? Can I call you Sandman?

You: You may call me whatever you please, dear mortal.

Johnny Cage: Oh, you do not wanna give me that kind of power.

-

Johnny Cage: Heard you and Shinnok had a thing.

You: A…thing?

Johnny Cage: You two boned! Get it? Cuz he’s a skeleton.

-

Johnny Cage: Tarot, huh? Card tricks are cool and all, but do you got any other witchy gimmicks?

You: I'm particularly fond of palm reading.

Johnny Cage: ...So what I'm hearing is, you're good with your hands?

-

Johnny Cage: You, Fujin, and Raiden go way back, huh?

You: Since the dawn of time.

Johnny Cage: (grimace) Yeesh, they've been friend zoned that long?

-

Johnny Cage: Not so fast, Hermonie.

You: Must you always spout such inane drivel?

Johnny Cage: Someone's been using their word-a-day calendar!

-

Johnny Cage: I've never met a non-evil Eldar God.

You: Evil is quite subjective.

Johnny Cage: I'll remember that next time I'm kicking one's ass.

Noob Saibot: My Goddess.

You: Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: The shadows cling to your presence. 

-

Noob Saibot: Many have wanted me to yield to their command.

You: Oh?

Noob Saibot: Only you have succeeded, My Goddess.

-

You: You are not touched by the Night, dear Bi-Han. You are shrouded in it.

Noob Saibot: What better way to show that I belong to you?

You: It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?

-

Noob Saibot: The shadows whisper your name.

You: (smiles) What do they say about me?

Noob Saibot: That your beauty is combated by no other. They speak only the truth for their Goddess.

-

You: You have been a steadfast worshiper, Bi-Han. How shall I reward your loyalty?

Noob Saibot: I only ask for one thing: to be your consort.

You: Hmm. That could be arranged.

-

Noob Saibot: I do not want you to be upset with me, but I will not take back what I said.

You: Your brother cares for you, Bi-Han.

Noob Saibot: Yet, here we are.

-

You: Why must we fight?

Noob Saibot: I wish to prove to you my might, My Goddess.

You: Oh, dear wraith. For you, my love is freely given. You have already earned it.

-

Noob Saibot: You're different than the other Eldar Gods. You...care.

You: Do you think me weak?

Noob Saibot: Never.

-

You: Care to spar?

Noob Saibot: I'd be honored.

You: Then don't take it personally when I beat you.

-

Noob Saibot: The shadows crave your touch.

You: Only the shadows?

Noob Saibot: I'll always long for you, My Goddess.

-

You: Do you fear me, dear Bi-Han?

Noob Saibot: I respect you.

You: (sigh) That wasn't a no.

Erron Black: You've got quite the pretty penny on your head.

You: Are you here to kill me then, Erron Black?

Erron Black: With a face like that, I wouldn’t dream of it.

-

Erron Black: You got any love spells up your sleeve, witchy? I swear ’m good for it.

You: Love is not something to take lightly. Who do you have in mind?

Erron Black: (smirks)  Look in a mirror, darlin’. 

-

Erron Black: You the Goddess of lust, by any chance?

You: That is not a purpose I was created to serve.

Erron Black: Pity. You’d certainly suit it.

-

Erron Black: You had something to ask me, beautiful?

You: Yes. What is “reverse cowgirl”?

Erron Black: (smirks) How ‘bout I show you the ins and outs after this?

-

Erron Black: ’M not usually one for marriage, darlin’.

You: Neither am I.

Erron Black: I don’t have to be the only one, as long as I’m your favorite.

-

Erron Black: You ever find out why Shinnok offed you?

You: I believe he wanted to turn me into his revenant bride. He became rather desperate after I declined his proposal.

Erron Black: (chuckle) Well, I guess I can’t blame the guy.

-

Erron Black: Why don’t you take a peek into ol’ Erron’s dreams? Swear you won’t be disappointed.

You: I’ve seen your dreams. I must say, you give me very generous proportions.

Erron Black: Then you must know I’m a very generous lover.

-

Erron Black: I've struck gold

You: How so?

Erron Black: Well, you're here, ain'tcha?

-

Erron Black: You cast a spell on me, Goddess?

You: I have not, Erron Black.

Erron Black: Do you want to?

-

Erron Black: How 'bout you and I see where the night takes us?

You: Do you think you can keep up?

Erron Black: Trust me. I may be fast on the quick draw, but I don't shoot quick.

-

Erron Black: You've got the magic touch.

You: A good deal of my powers flow through my hands.

Erron Black: I want 'em on me.

You: I’ve heard of how you…disposed of Shinnok.

Dark Raiden: After what he did to you, after how I mourned, I would behead him a hundred times over.

You: It isn’t judgment you sense in my voice. I would have killed him myself if you hadn’t beat me to it.

-

You: Do you still desire me, even as you are now?

Dark Raiden: If you need to ask, then I have failed to show you my devotion.

You: Hmph.

-

Dark Raiden: Will you abandon me too, my love?

You: It is not in my nature.

Dark Raiden: They do not deserve your blessings.

-

Dark Raiden: How have you…How are you here?

You: I sensed my presence was needed and returned to my corporal form just in time to be put in Kronika's void.

Dark Raiden: You could not sense how much I needed you, how much I mourned?

-

You: We are in such uncertain times, my vision is clouded.

Dark Raiden: I’m sorry for the part I play in your duress, my love.

You: You are only doing your duty. It’s how you’re going about it that leaves me weary.

-

Dark Raiden: How can you find such beauty in their shortcomings?

You: The Night welcomes all into her shadowed embrace.

Dark Raiden: You are wasted on them!

-

Dark Raiden: I was so lost without your guidance.

You: When I died?

Dark Raiden: When you were taken from me!

-

Dark Radien: How did Shinnok do it?

You: He lied to me and attacked me when I let my guard down.

Dark Raiden: (growls) If I could, I would bring him back to enact justice upon him once more.

-

You: I have but one wish.

Dark Raiden: Anything.

You: I wish for you to come back to me.

-

You: Is it true? What you've done?

Dark Radien: It was the only way.

You: You have lost yourself.

-

You: We've never fought before, have we?

Dark Radien: We never needed to for me to know you're the stronger between us.

You: Flattery will not save you.

Cassie Cage: You know, I think I’m finally understanding why Raiden lost his marbles.

You: How so?

Cassie Cage: I think I’d lose my shit too if someone like you was taken from me.

-

Cassie Cage: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

You: I’m…afraid I do not understand.

Cassie Cage: Oh, you have got to let me take you on a movie date.

-

Cassie Cage: Who’s your favorite: Fujin or Raiden? Come on. You can tell me.

You: I’m a Goddess. Why would I limit myself to one lover?

Cassie Cage: You dirty girl.

-

Cassie Cage: What are you the Goddess of again?

You: (hesitates) …It would be easier to list what I am not the Goddess of.

Cassie Cage: (whistles) And I thought my parents expected a lot of me.

-

Cassie Cage: Come on, just one kiss!

You: I am older than you could possibly imagine.

Cassie Cage: An older woman. What’s not to love?

-

Cassie Cage: I heard you died. So, how are you standing here in all your godly beauty?

You: I have much power over death and the comings and goings of the Underworld. My soul simply dispersed there.

Cassie Cage: Yep. That’ll do it.

-

Cassie Cage: So…You didn’t happen to see that one dream, did you?

You: I’ve seen all your dreams, Cassandra. And I’m flattered.

Cassie Cage: (clears throat) …Right.

-

Cassie Cage: It’s a full moon

You: She calls to me and all who feel her light.

Cassie Cage:…You’re not gonna turn into a werewolf, are you?

-

Cassie Cage: You gonna turn me into a frog, Goddess?

You: It’s a possibility.

Cassie Cage: (shrugs) As long as you change me back with a kiss.

-

Cassie Cage: Heard you hung out with Jacqui.

You: Yes, though she didn’t mention you at all.

Cassie Cage: She is the worst wing woman.

-

You: You’ve come to my crossroads. Do you need my guidance?

Cassie Cage: Just wondering if you could teach me a trick or two.

You: So it’s my protection you seek.

Shang Tsung: Your beauty entices me

You: My power entices you.

Shang Tsung: Two things can be true at once.

-

Shang Tsung: Soon, you shall be my bride.

You: You cannot tie down a Goddess; you cannot tie down the Night.

Shang Tsung: I can try.

-

Shang Tsung: Do my powers impress you, Goddess of magic?

You: They certainly intrigue me, Sorcerer.

Shang Tsung: Allow me to give you a closer look.

-

Shang Tsung: Every time I invoke my magic, I do so in your name.

You: Your loyalty changes with the moon’s phases.

Shang Tsung: I devote myself to you, my Goddess.

-

Shang Tsung: I want something more valuable than your soul.

You: Such as?

Shang Tsung: Your love.

-

Shang Tsung: You forgave Shinnok, but not I?

You: I did not forgive him. He killed me when I refused to be his bride.

Shang Tsung: I will succeed where he has failed.

-

Shang Tsung: I kneel at your altar, my Goddess.

You: You needn’t prostrate yourself before me.

Shang Tsung: It is never a hardship to be on my knees for you.

-

You: Do you fear me?

Shang Tsung: I’d be a fool not to.

You: Then why challenge me?

-

Shang Tsung: You have the godly brothers on quite a tight leash.

You: I demand no loyalty from them.

Shang Tsung: It’s doubtful that they stray far from you.

-

You: Kronika spared me in hopes of using my powers. When I refused, she cast me into the void.

Shang Tsung: We have been similarly wronged by her.

You: That is why we must aid Luai Kang in defeating her.

-

Shang Tsung: You are the last Eldar God.

You: Yes. And I shall help Luai Kang in his creation of the new timeline.

Shang Tsung: Then this will be goodbye for now.

Taunts

You: The Wheel of Fortune comes for us all. You: Your future is uncertain. You: You cannot hide from the Night’s embrace. You: Knell in repentance. You: Your path ends here. You: You are lost. You: It is simply an illusion. You: You challenge an Eldar God? You: Will you make an offering? You: You are forgiven. You: I will lead your spirit through the gates of the Netherrealm. You: You shall not pass. You: Are you seeing double? You: Allow me to guide you.