#anyway i had fun makin this one

[team5ds]

every yugioh 5ds duel:

episode one:riding duel! acceleration!

                     yusei fudo vs tetsu ushio                      RESULT: YUSEI FUDO VICTORY.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[cerealmonster15]

i always think about that '[thing] is so good when you dont got a bitch in ur ear tellin you it's not' meme when im doing something i remember The Internet getting mad about,,, been having a lot of fun with pokemon violet this week 🙏

[bisamwilson]

url song tag

tagged by @smfstump!! thank you whiz <3

i've been listening to a friend's spooky vintage playlist nonstop so i'm making this spooky/autumn themed

B - batman, wolfman, frankenstein or dracula by the diamonds

I - i put a spell on you by nina simone

S - shout sister shout by the boswell sisters

A - autumn leaves by bing crosby

M - my man's an undertaker by dinah washington

W - witchcraft by frank sinatra

I - i'd rather be burned as a witch by eartha kitt

L - love potion no. 9 by the clovers

S - skeleton jangle by old dixieland jazz band

O - old devil moon by ella fitzgerald

N - nightmare by artie shaw

no pressure tagging @logicheartsoul @livingincolorsagain @saryasy @writerkenna @firstelevens

[peapod20001]

I wonder how many times I’ve googled whether I’m having a panic attack or an anxiety attack...

[kendev]

first post..

[dollfacefantasy]

34 + 35 ♡

older bf!toji fushiguro x fem!reader

you tell toji you can handle a 69, and he wants you to prove it to him.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, 69ing, oral sex, daddy kink, overstimulation, light praise/degradation

“Get to it, doll. You said you could do it,” your boyfriend teases from beneath you.

Toji’s hand meets your ass hard, a clear smack ringing throughout the room. You nearly topple over onto him from the jolt but stabilize yourself before you crash. Your hands grab onto his hips as you glance down at his toned body.

It’s where you were heading anyways, so you relax your arms and lower yourself. Your abdomen rests flush against his. Your face hovers a few inches from his cock. It was already hard, the tip an even brighter red against the pale skin of his pelvis. It’d been in your mouth before countless times, but never while he also had his face buried between your legs.

“C’mon. You wanted a proper 69, didn’t ya? Gotta put it in your mouth then, sweet thing,” he coos.

His own hands currently ghosted up and down the back of your thighs, leaving chills in their wake. He teasingly nips and kisses at the skin leading up to your center. Your anticipation builds, and you know you do in fact need to get to it. It was your idea after all. He’d just gotten back from a bounty, one he actually collected successfully. He was in a better mood than normal, just wanted you to sit on his face as a treat.

You couldn’t just be happy with that generous offer. Too many comments about how hard he was ended up with the two of you debating whether or not you could handle 69ing. You knew you couldn’t. You went dumb with his cock in your mouth while on your knees with nothing distracting you. But you couldn't just let him be right all the time, that was no fun.

Now you’re here though. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock tentatively as you spit a decent amount of saliva onto the head. You watch it dribble down the veiny shaft. It takes a little to go down the full length to your fingers, but as soon as it does, you start stroking. Up and down, your hand squeezes gently as you get his dick slippery.

“Daddy’s not gonna start till I feel those pretty lips wrapped around me,” he whispers, his way of saying stop wasting time while in a good mood.

Parting your lips, you take it just like he taught you to. Just like he likes it. You suckle the tip deeper and bob your head, swirling your tongue and flicking it against the little ridge. His chest deflates under you as he lets out a pleasured sigh.

It doesn’t take him long to return the favor though. His tongue darts out and laps at your clit. His large hands hold your hips firmly in place. There was no squirming away from this. Each breath gave him a hit of your heady scent. 

For him, this was heaven. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t tried this with you sooner. He got to have that precious little mouth on his cock while devouring his baby like she was the finest meal on earth.

You, on the other hand, weren’t faring as well. You were already shuddering from the sensations. Each stripe he licked over your cunt, each swipe against your swollen bud made you whine and just wanna melt on top of him.

You keep trying though. You suck more of him into your mouth, stroking the part of him you aren’t ready for yet. Spit leaks from your mouth and coats even more of his length which pulses in your mouth. The weight of it on your tongue has your mind beginning to swirl. Precum oozes from the head and coats your tongue.

“Daddy…” you whine, but it comes out garbled because of the dick in your mouth.

He chuckles and gives you another nice slap on the ass. “That’s right, baby. You’re takin’ daddy so good, makin’ me proud,” he mutters into your pussy.

He holds you down tighter, pressing your cunt right up close to his face. His tongue laves at your sensitive bundle of nerves, twirling around it, teasing it with tiny flitting motions and then overwhelming you with a harsh suck. Your whimpers get louder while your hand slows down on his cock.

You gotta make him proud though. You force yourself to take more, lodging him as far in your throat as you can get him. He hears the little gag that comes from you as you try to get your mouth all the way around his shaft. His lips morph into a smirk against your center. He continues making out with your cunt like he’s trying to take in every last drop of you.

As he gets sloppier, going from precise and calculated to messy and open-mouthed, you start to lose it a bit. Your hands shake, and you have to grip his hips to keep yourself somewhat steady. You keep sucking his cock, hollowing your cheeks and rhythmically rising and falling. More needy whimpers fall from your lips. You try to rock your hips, but he’s got a good grip on ‘em.

“It's getting harder, isn’t it baby?” he taunts. His hand slithers between your legs to rub at your puffy clit a little bit, drawing an even louder noise from you. “Now you’re seeing why daddy just wanted to play with you first.”

“I- I’m fine…” you stammer out. It’s an obvious lie, but you try to maintain the facade.

“You are? Still wanna act like a big girl, huh?” he teases.

His mouth takes over again. You’re left shivering with your eyes screwed shut. You inhale sharply before trying to return to your task. You go back to stroking him. Your hand twists as it goes, brushing over the head and smearing the sticky, white droplets over the length.

But as soon as his hand comes back and pinches your clit, you squeal and your efforts fail. Your head drops to his pelvis where your cheek squishes against his warm skin. He only wishes he could see your face because he knows the way your lips are puffing out into that cute pout. Your hips rut on instinct, and he has to lock them in place with a tighter hold.

“Stay still, babydoll. Seems like you’re getting a little distracted,” he murmurs before reattaching his lips to your pussy.

You moan loudly but scoot your head a little closer. 

“I’m not, daddy,” you whimper. Your tongue sticks out to lap at his balls. You suckle one into your mouth, but all he does is laugh.

He nuzzles further between your legs, speeding up the motions of his tongue. Your legs start to quiver and tense up. They close around his head, and he knows what’s coming.

“Let it out,” he grunts.

Your back arches and your nails dig into his flesh. You take your mouth off him all together and turn your head against his thigh to hide the expressions your features scrunch into. You groan against him, your hips bucking and jerking with each wave of euphoria. 

He lets you ride it out, but once you come down, he doesn’t stop. You claw at his legs, trying to crawl away and seek refuge between his huge thighs. He pulls you back into place though and kneads your ass cheeks soothingly.

“Not gonna happen, little girl. Not letting you go until you get me to cum at least once,” he says. With that, he’s back to using his mouth for more important things.

“Daddy!” you whine. Normally, that would be easy, but you couldn’t even do it the first time around and now you had overstimulation frying your nerves.

He’s loud between your thighs, wet, sensual noises echoing from the top of the bed where his head rests. You try to match and slurp around his shaft, but it’s difficult when you’re so shaky and it feels like your insides are melting.

You’re so whiny too. Your head drops back to its place next to his dick as you lazily jerk him off.

He keeps going and brings you to another high minutes later. You mewl even louder for him and drop his cock, letting it fall against your face and rest on your cheek. Your eyes flutter as the ecstasy takes over for a moment.

“Not so easy is it, baby?” he croons, “It’s so much easier just letting daddy take care of you, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum with a dizzy nod.

He places a tender kiss on your clit and chuckles as he sees you clench around nothing. This time he does give you a small break. You both knew he could reduce you to a puddle of sobs and moans if he so desired, but he wanted to give you a little chance.

And you don’t take it for granted. You lift your head again. Your cheek feels numb from being pressed to his hip for a while. As the blood circulates through it again, you return your lips to the tip of his cock. You spit down on it for the second time tonight and take it into the warm embrace of your mouth.

Your sucking starts off languid. He was still lapping at your cunt, but not with the dedication he had previously. He kept you simmering in pleasure but held off the real heat of bliss for now. Little sounds of delight still come from you every so often, but they're muffled around his girth.

You start increasing the speed of your head and tighten the suction of your mouth a bit. It’s his turn to let his head fall back. His thumb weakly rubs up and down your pussy while he enjoys the feeling of you sucking him off.

“Fuck, dolly,” he groans, “That’s it. Such a good girl.”

You suck more, feeling like you can actually do this. You’re drooling all over his cock, eyes going glossy like they always did when you had nothing on the brain but Toji. Your lips smack around the tip haphazardly before you take it down your throat again. You hold your breath for a moment, letting him enjoy your throat. You then rise up again before bobbing your head with the most fervor you can muster.

His hips twitch a bit, and he chokes out some moans against your dripping cunt. He starts increasing the pressure of his mouth, wanting to make you cum once more with him. Your hips tremble, but you’re determined. If you didn’t get it now, you figured you’d be spending the night with his head between your thighs.

“You’re gonna make daddy cum, doll. Fuck,” he mutters, “Actin’ like a perfect slut just for me.”

You lick his cock from the base to the tip, flattening your tongue and trying to hit every sensitive spot he had. His fingers dig into the plump of your ass more. You could feel little marks forming on your skin, but they only spurred you on.

“That’s my little girl. That’s what that mouth was made for,” he breathes.

Whimpering and twitching, you take him as deep as you can again.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts. His hips snap up a bit as he shoots his load down your throat. You can practically feel the rumbling of his groans against your tummy. They rise in his chest and seep out against your entrance as he continues fucking his tongue into you. You take in deep breaths through your nose as he works you to one more release. It’s not as intense as the first two, but the dull pleasure is still one of the best feelings you’ve experienced. 

You swallow every drop of cum he gives you before pulling off him for the final time. A string of saliva still connects you with his shiny tip as your head collapses onto him.

He takes a deep breath before lifting you up and spinning you around like it’s nothing. Your head now rests against his chest where you can listen to the thundering of his heart. He hums with satisfaction and rubs his hand up and down your back.

“Did I do good, daddy?” you mumble.

He looks down at you and the slow way you blink when you’ve cum a few times.

“Yeah, babydoll. You did as much as you could,” he says with a little smirk.

You pop your head up at the playful jab. “I tried. It’s not my fault you’re like… so good at that,” you say and shoot him a look.

“Sure, sure. I guess we’ll just have to keep practicing till you get better at it, hm?” he teases.

You nod before leaning in and kissing him. The both of you part your lips to deepen the exchange, tasting one another in the other’s mouth.

[zhukzucraft]

=> Joel: Do what must be done

You are doing what must be done when you are very rudely interrupted by a short shouty man,

Bdubs: Hey. HEY!!! Stop that. What do you have against horses anyways! They are beautiful creatures… and don’t even drop anything worthwhile - just leather!!! You wanna' know where else you can get leather?! Cows! They drop beef too!!! All horses drop is sadness and a pained death scream…

The horse you were punching lets out it’s final neigh in a melodious cadence,

Bdubs: See?!

Joel: Music to my ears-

Bdubs: Don’t tell me you enjoy that sound?! No sane person enjoys that sound!!! It’s horrible… like you. You’re horrible.

Joel: Well, would you look at that, it dropped a leather. Don’t you need three of these to craft a saddle? 

Bdubs: ...maybe

Joel: Do you want it so you can make one and ride a horse in the SINGULAR DIRECTION that isn't immediately blocked off by blummin' water!?

Bdubs: ...

Bdubs: ...I don’t want your dirty horse leather!!! I refuse - on moral principle!

Joel: Fair, you need all the high ground you can get-

Bdubs: ARE YOU MAKIN’ FUN OF ME?!?! You’re shorter than I am.

Joel: Only if you count the hair, lad. It constitutes at least a third of your height.

Bdubs proceeds to make some kind of unintelligible grumble and starts punching the two cows you saw earlier, looks like he does want leather after all. 

As for you, while you would love to finish off the job you started, Bdubs did raise one good point: horses don’t drop food… begrudgingly you pause your equestrian extermination in favor of sheep slaughter.

However you don’t get that far on mutton mutilation before your communicator goes off a ton of times. You keep getting interrupted…

As Doc’s message goes off you lock eyes with Bdubs’ uncomfortably large ones. Those things are uncanny... Well, it looks like neither of you are paired with the cyborg goat man.

But since you two were so close to where he fell you decide to check up on (read: tease) one of the servers newest members after he made such a ruckus in chat.

It turns out his soulmate was right there at spawn, and it just happened to be the other newbie. What are the odds of that?

Bdubs: Pssht, what amateurs. Don't they know it's traditional to check soulmates with the ol' fashioned punch test?

Joel: Punch test?

Bdubs: Yep. Like this-

Joel: What was that for?!

Bdubs: I told you, a punch test. 

Joel: That’s not what I meant! Why so many times!?

Bdubs: I had to be extra sure that I wasn’t soulbound with horse punching' scum like you.

Joel: …

Bdubs: HEY, OW! EXCUUUSE YOU!!!

Joel: Sorry, double checking... I had to make extra sure I wasn’t soulbound with a stupid horse lover like you.

Bdubs: …yooouuu-

Joel: at least now we definitely know we aren’t linked, 

Bdubs: For goodness sakes. If I was linked with you, I might’ve just ended my series right then and there!

Joel: Just to take me out with you!? You are an idiot. 

Bdubs: To save myself from suffering. Not everything is about you! 

Joel: Yes it is.

Bdubs: No it isn’t.

Joel: Yes it is.

Bdubs: No it isn’t!!! And to prove that, I’ll stop talking to you!

=====>

Start Over -- Go Back

[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

[bunnysbrainrot]

Guessing Game

Kinktober Prompt: Oral

Relationship: Sam Winchester/Reader/Dean Winchester (no Wincest, ew)

Content: EXPLICIT (18+ only), oral (f and m receiving), A LOT of degradation, praise, pussy slapping, p in v, DP, creampie (recreate responsibly), this is filthy so please be advised, ‘bitch’ is used in the dirty talk.

Summary: Can your body tell the difference between the brothers? If you’re correct, you’ll be rewarded. If not, well…

A/N: Writing this had me completely soaked i’m not gonna lie. ANYWAY HAVE FUN.

Darkness shrouds your vision under the blindfold, having been tied around your head by Dean moments before you were carefully stripped down, layer by layer, until you lay completely bare on his bed. He gives off hardly any sound to gauge your surroundings, as if a predator animal circling its prey.

Goosebumps run along your arms as cold air brushes by, but the presence stirring this air is different than Dean. You freeze where you lay, closing your legs and covering your aching tits with your shivering arms.

Despite your uncertainty, your exposed core is molten while you wait for Dean’s voice to ring out. Your body is rigid once more when someone else speaks.

“We’re gonna play a game.”

Sam’s voice is low and clear, and now he’s seen you stark naked, sprawling open on his brother’s bed, waiting for your boyfriend to please you. You reeled silently over where and when he could’ve made his way into the room. Had he been here the whole time, watching everything?

Familiar hands slide over your shielding arms and coax them apart, letting cool air kiss your pebbled nipples.

Dean whispers, “It’s okay, baby girl, you’re safe with Sammy. He ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Your head snaps to his voice, about to protest, but Dean’s mouth finds yours in earnest, groaning into your slacked mouth. You swallow his sounds nonetheless, hearing Sam’s voice echo around the room once again.

“Dean, want to explain what’s going on?”

Your boyfriend hums against your lips before he breaks away, mumbling against your cheek.

He mutters, “Poor Sammy’s been pretty lonely lately-“

You can sense Sam’s scowling, “No, I haven’t-“

“So I invited him to play, too.” Dean’s lips work across your slacked jaw, trailing up to the tender spot below your ear, making you squirm into his lean form.

The warmth and softness tells you that he did away with his own clothes, and all you could imagine was if Sam did the same.

“A… game?” you whisper.

A new hand wanders to your calf, radiating a deep warmth into your skin. It’s bigger than Dean’s, so you instantly know it’s Sam at your lower end.

Sam’s voice is closer to where you lay, you tense at his words, “Just one rule: guess who’s who.”

“Mhm,” Dean hums against your collarbone now, skirting his lips downward, “y’gotta guess if it’s me or Sammy makin’ you feel good, sweetheart.”

One of the brothers slides a hand to your chest, palming your tits with eagerly, since Dean was near your chest when he kissed you, surely it was him.

You nip at your bottom lip, stifling a moan as two fingers roll your nipple. “Dean.”

“Nope,” says Sam, landing a sharp slap on your tit, striking your perk nipple. You release your lower lip with a cry, panting softly at the twinge of pain.

“Wasn’t me, baby,” Dean mutters, right below your belly button, ever lowering himself, “if you get it wrong, you get punished. If you get it right, you get a reward.”

You nod dumbly at the instructions. The hand on your tits brushes your cheek, then travels between the valley of your breasts, and vanishes. The only sensation on your body is a pair of lips traveling toward your thighs, and what lies between them.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got here,” says Dean, his voice sounds from between your thighs, closing in on your dripping slit.

Somehow, the mystery of this, and Sam’s surprising involvement sends fire roiling through your gut, and straight to your needy pussy. You shift your thighs together and clench your cunt onto nothing.

Dean’s fingers spread your slick folds, gently prying your thighs apart with a free hand. You relax your legs and flex your hips wide, baring yourself to him, and giving him free reign over the sight before him.

A low whistle sounds above your tummy, “Fuck, that’s a pretty pussy, Dean. Every night?”

“Just about,” Dean replies. Their voices mix too closely to differentiate who is who, sending you into a tizzy. “But that pussy’s mine whenever I want it.”

Sam comments, “Lucky guy. If I had a girl with a pussy like this, I’d be using it every night.”

Two fingers dip between your folds, using your slick to easily slide past your entrance, and curling perfectly inside. You gasp, giving your answer with a shaky exhale.

“Dean. It’s Dean.”

He purrs, “Attagirl - you’d know my fingers anywhere, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Dean pumps his fingers one, two, three times before he removes them.

You whine at the empty feeling, rolling your hips to search for something, anything, to gain pressure from. Your clit throbs between your slick folds, aching with need.

A pair of hands pries your thighs open, holding you securely before a tongue slides into your slit. You release a soft moan and buck your hips onto the warmth. It’s familiar, but the hands aren’t the same.

“Dean?” you ask waveringly. A low hum sounds against your clit, sending the tremors through the aching bud.

Sam’s voice sounds from above Dean’s head, “Smart girl. I’m just holding you open for him, honey.”

You smile at your success, still letting yourself relish in the sensations flooding through your clit, happily lapped at by Dean. He swirls his tongue around your pearl, taking it between his teeth to make you hitch a breath. Dean smiles wickedly against your pussy.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Dean announces, breaking away from your sex. A moment passes before you hear him again. “Guess who.”

His voice is still near your thighs. You aren’t spread open again, but a tongue dips between your folds and finds your clit, teasing and light. It feels like Dean, with its soft lapping and swirling motions, mixed with thick stripes from your throbbing hole to your hardening clit.

A light pinch on your thigh instructs you to answer, “Dean.”

The mouth breaks away and is replaced with a harsh slap, directly on your clit. You cry out, loudly.

“Wrong,” growls Sam. His thumb runs a circle around your clit, pressing harshly enough to make you cry out. The mix of pain and pleasure is overwhelming enough to make you cry. Tears prick the back of your eyes, welling over and slipping past your cheeks, dampening the blindfold.

Dean’s voice startles you next to your ear. His thumb swipes along your cheekbone, collecting remnants of your tears.

“Aww, don’t cry, pretty girl,” he coos, “did Sammy hurt you?” The touches on your clit soften up. Sam’s fingers brush around further, wet with a new slickness, and he hums happily.

“I dunno, Dean. Little slut’s still getting wet,” Sam protests, dipping a finger past your tight entrance. Dean’s smile is palpable, and a new wickedness fills his tone.

His mouth brushes your ear, “You like that, baby? Y’like it when he slaps your little pussy? Never knew you were such a slut for the pain, sweetheart.”

“Whore for it, more like. Fuck. Practically dripping for me,” Sam’s fingers delve further and curl, longer than Dean’s and striking deeper than you’d ever felt. Your back arches with the motions, followed by soft, whimpering moans as Sam pumps his fingers through your fluttering walls.

Dean’s mouth finds your nipple, licking and biting with fervor. A free hand travels to the other and twists roughly, making you gasp, though another rush of heat heads to your pussy, clenching down on Sam’s fingers.

He hisses through gritted teeth, “Jesus, she’s tight.”

Humming sounds around your toyed nipple, “Mhm.” Dean’s words brush over your skin, “Perfect lil’ pussy, all for me.”

“Willing to share?” Sam asks, picking up his pace inside of you, dragging his fingers along your g-spot with each movement.

Dean snaps, “Don’t press your luck.”

Possessive bastard, you think, but moan sharply.

Sam’s tongue finds your clit once again, suckling at the small nub while his fingers stay busy. The combination unravels you quickly and your orgasm chases you in a matter of seconds.

Your walls clench around his fingers, and Sam mutters something under his breath. Dean slaps your tit this time.

“Can’t cum without permission, sweetheart,” he says. When you’re together it’s his rule that you always have his say-so, apparently it’s no different here.

You start to protest, but he stops you, “If you’re cumming at all, it’s with my permission, do you understand me?”

Sam nips at your clit to make you answer, “Y-yes, sir.”

You can feel Sam smiling on your pussy. He mumbles, “You trained her well, Dean.”

Dean pulls away from your chest, and his voice travels toward where Sam lies between your thighs. You assume it’s Dean slapping your upper thigh, close to where Sam’s head rests atop your cunt.

“Perfectly trained little bitch.”

Your orgasm is trailing behind, you gasp out, “Can I cum, sir?”

A beat passes.

“Cum.”

In an instant, you do. Your release blasts like a firework behind your eyes as you clench around Sam’s fingers, mewling softly while he pumps you through the shockwaves. Sam pulls himself from you, and you hear him shift to stand with his brother.

Dean pats your thigh, “Beautiful, isn’t she, Sammy?”

A low growl rumbles from Sam’s throat, “I want her, Dean. I want to feel her.”

The back-and-forth electrifies your nerves. You were Dean’s, but now that Sam was seemingly fighting him over you, there was no way of knowing what would be next.

“Not today, Sam.”

Not today?

Sam grunts in frustration, but concedes. You can hear him trek over to the head of the bed, close enough that you can feel a radiating heat from his, apparently, nude form. The bed dips just next to your head. You crane your neck toward him and are met with a warm, thick cock against your cheek.

You lay perfectly still, waiting.

Dean’s voice breaks the silence, “Order her, Sam. Poor thing gets too cock drunk to think. Tell her what to do.”

“Open,” Sam commands, lightly smacking your jaw. You open wide, sticking out your tongue as Dean had conditioned you to. “Tongue out and everything. She really is well-trained.”

The head of Dean’s cock eases through your folds, making you gasp around the head of Sam’s length. His voice is proud and sinister.

“Like I said - perfect. Little. Bitch.”

His cock presses into your entrance, the first substantial filling of the night. You whine around Sam’s dick, eagerly swirling your warm tongue around it and collecting salty precum along the way.

“And the best part of owning this pussy, Sam… is that I get to fill it. As often as I want.”

Relief showers over you at the mention. The thought of your boyfriend’s thick, hot cum spilling inside of you made you shiver with anticipation, tightening around his cock.

Dean lets out a low whistle, “Wish you could feel how tight she got just now. Sweet girl just loves it when I stuff her full, doesn’t she?”

You nod, bobbing your head along Sam’s considerable length, hollowing your cheeks to give him the same level of suction you do to his brother. Fuck, he was missing out on so, so much.

“Perfect mouth,” Sam comments, “you really got lucky, Dean.” Your boyfriend chuckles as his cock pushes deeper, stretching you out to fit him until he plunges in full hilt.

Sam shoves himself inward when you cry out, stuffing your mouth entirely full with his cock. The head crashes against the back of your throat, making you gag harshly around him. He grips your hair with both hands for leverage. The pace is brutal, and you’re silently thankful that Dean isn’t this ferocious with his own blowjobs.

“Gentle on her mouth, Sammy,” Dean scolds, his big-brother tone invading his words, “gotta take it slow.”

“Nah,” he dismisses, “I bet she can handle it.” Sam angles his hips and turns your head, twisting you to accommodate his girth. His cock plunges deeper into your throat from this angle, but to your surprise you do not gag this time. The thrusts are harsh but mildly painless.

Sam’s breathing grows more ragged by the second, while Dean happily sinks into your hungry cunt, filling you out with every glorious inch of his length.

“Turn her over,” Sam demands. Dean stills inside of you for a split second before he moves again. His hands find your hips and twist them around. Sam removes himself from your mouth to grant you some fresh air.

With their help, you’re on all fours between the boys. Dean at your back, Sam in the front, both with their cocks twitching at the slightest touch. Dean gives Sam a shit-eating grin as he slams his cock into you. Hard.

Sam springs into action when your mouth opens again in a cry. Your mouth is stuffed with his cock like before, but this angle is even better. You’re laid flatter for a perfect throat-fucking.

“There we go,” Sam murmurs, “that’s much better. Relax your throat, sweetheart.”

Against the new strain on your throat, you do as you’re instructed. Sam pushes himself further until your face is pressed into his abdomen.

Completely, and impossibly, full.

Dean marvels at Sam’s depth in your mouth, and gapes at the sight below him where his cock meets your cunt, stretched taught around his girth. Each moan and groan serves as more encouragement for Dean to pick up the pace.

His cock crashes through your constricting walls, striking against your cervix when he plunges deeper, deeper, and deeper into your aching cunt. Dean groans when you tighten around him, closing in on another orgasm. A free hand smacks your ass hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Cum,” Dean orders.

This one is harsher than the last, leaving you screaming around Sam’s cock, muffled and gagged by the thick head of him.

“Attagirl. You want Sammy to cum, too? Want him to fill you up?”

As much as you can muster, you nod. Sam smiles toward Dean - a wicked grin that says That’s right, I’m gonna fill your girl up before you can.

Dean glowers at his brother and thrusts faster, scowling the entire time as he urges his own orgasm to chase after him. With his competitive streak and the way you wrapped around him, he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuuuck,” groans Dean, his cock twitching inside your ravaged cunt.

Sam lets out a gasp as he shudders inside your mouth. His hips falter and he releases deep in your throat. Tears fall past your cheeks as you struggle for air, but your eyes roll back at the salty, savory taste of his cum.

And Dean isn’t far behind. He remains resilient when his orgasm reaches him - the thrusts don’t waver or lessen, but are more insistent. A groan rumbles from him as he finishes. The familiar warmth of his thick cum floods through your pussy, making you clench around his cock, eager to savor every last drop, as always.

“That’s it, babygirl, keep it inside.”

You tighten even when he leaves you, now left hollow and achey. Dean nods to Sam to pull out to let you breathe. The younger brother thumbs your bottom lip as you gasp.

You swallow Sam’s cum fully and thankfully, smiling blindly at him.

Dean lands a smack on your ass in congratulation, watching you clench your cunt into nothing, keeping his seed deep inside of you.

“Greedy girl. Don’t wanna waste any of it, do you?”

You shake your head with a smile, proud that you served them both to their desires.

Maybe not for Sam, but that was a different matter.

Dean leans forward to grab your blindfold, swiftly untying it and tossing it to the side. You slump to your side while you let your eyes adjust to the new light. The boys gently massage into your joints to ease them back to normal, though they’d surely be sore for hours, if not a day or two.

“You okay, baby?” Dean asks.

You pant softly to settle yourself, and smile, completely sated. Your words slur unintelligibly.

Sam laughs, “Fucked dumb, huh?”

“Just how she likes it.”

You pick what happens next! If you enjoyed, please help support my work by reblogging!

Happy Kinktober, you depraved lil’ things

[temiizpalace]

Hello! I was wondering (if I'm doing this right) if I could request for the fighting event?

Could I request number 4 (TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST.) with Leona Kingscholar "fighting" (maybe a hint for that?) with Jack Howl who offers Yuu a jacket without even being asked for one?

Thank you!

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (🐺 vs. 🦁)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: jack howl vs. leona kingscholar

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy

NOTES: first event request done, yay! regular posts will still be uploaded but my main focus will be on event requests! tysm for participating!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

night raven college was experiencing some of its lowest temperatures all year.

around this time, the weather usually begins to drop from scorching hot summers to calm and crisp autumns. however, this year seemed to differ. harsh winds blew past you and grim as you walked by the great seven, feeling as if they were mocking you for being without a jacket on this fatefully cold day.

“myah.. i don’t like it. feels like they’re makin fun of us.” grim grumbles, burying himself in his paws to maintain some form of warmth. he nestled on your shoulder, leaning against your cheek to also try and keep you warm. “tell me about it..” you sigh, rubbing your shivering arms.

“hey, herbivore,” a familiarly lazy voice rings, poking the back of your head. leona? what in the world is he doing out in the cold? “what’re you doin without a jacket? you goin for a new style or are ya just that scatterbrained?” he teases, flicking your forehead lightly with a raised brow. “ow! im not scatterbrained, i simply forgot.” you grunt in retaliation, holding your forehead to prevent him from flicking you again.

“anyways, what are you doing out here? savanaclaw is warm all year, i expected you to stay there til lunch.” you interrogate him, poking a finger to his chest. that’s when you noticed, he’s covering up for once. more accurately, he’s wearing a coat. unexpected for someone like him to be wearing long sleeves, even in cold weather.

“takin a stroll. got a problem with it?” he shrugs, lying through the skin of his teeth. he actually came to visit you, but by the time he had gotten to ramshackle you were already gone. “no, just doesn’t seem like you.” you grin, chuckling slightly at his silent reaction. leona turned away, eyes averting to the ground.

“tch.” he grunts, following you silently. grim looks to leona, who wasn’t as snarky as he typically was. ruggie could preach for that. leona watches as you shiver, each step you took the only thing keeping you from frostbite. he contemplated on offering his coat, but his pride fails to allow him. he stole glances at you every once in a while, but never spoke.

that was, until you all heard footsteps chasing after you. “[MC]! grim!” you all look up to see jack already a few feet away with his uniform coat in hand. “jack?!” you all collectively shout, not expecting him to see him out here. but then again, he is a jock. a good run perhaps? “housewarden? what are you doing out here?” jack asks, a bit shocked to see his housewarden awake at this hour.

“walkin. gotta problem, frosh?” leona growls, jack immediately holding his tongue for further comments. “no, housewarden. anyway, [MC], take my coat. you’ll freeze out here without one.” jack insists, already draping the coat over you. “ah! jack, it’s freezing out here. keep your coat, are you crazy?” you sigh, trying to take it off and hand it back to him. unfortunately, your strength differs greatly as he manages to keep it on you with ease.

“nothin a run can’t fix.” he laughs, his fangs showing as he smiled. it was quite charming. “awh, that’s so kind of you, jack. thank you.” you smile in return, wrapping yourself in the jacket further. while you and jack bantered back and forth as you walked towards your class. leona on the other hand, was not a fan of this exchange in the slightest. is he getting shown up by his own junior? how unacceptable.

your laughter was like music to his ears.. why’d it have to be for another man? and jack of all people? “jack,” he grunts, suddenly interjecting between you two. “your shiverin. take your coat back.” he scoffs, taking his coat off of your shoulders and tossing it back to him. “..huh?” he raises his brow, barely catching his coat on time. you, grim, and jack all exchanged looks with each other, taken aback by leona’s sudden consideration.

“leona? what are you—” he wraps his coat around you, draping it over your shoulders and buttoning it up with ease. “practically brand new. hardly wore it.” leona huffs, throwing jack a smug look. the wolf beast man took notice of it, shocked at his housewarden’s pettiness. “wow.. thanks leona! that’s sweet of you.” you smile, not finding anything suspicious with his actions.

“whatever, nothin special. just lookin out for my underclassmen.” he grins, ruffling your hair before shooting another smug look at jack. “keep your coat to yourself now, jack. i wouldn’t want ya freezing on me either.” he pats his shoulder before waving and walking off towards the botanical gardens.

“somethin’ seems off with leona today.” grim states bluntly, crossing his arms as he stared at the back of the lion beastman. “..yeah. a little.” jack adds, looking back at those smug glares he received from his own upperclassman. “really? i think he’s being a gentlemen for once.” you chuckle, adjusting the collar. a lion marks their scent as a way of courting their mate, common knowledge for beastmen.

the coat you wore practically reeked of leona definitely worn more than once. that scent was the only thing filling his nostrils, not to mention his enhanced sense of smell. wolves are not all that different, marking their territory and sticking by their mates side til they die. this was no act of kindness.

this was a warning from leona to jack, a simple sign from animal to animal. back off.

A/N: with the amount of leona requests i got, it’s gonna be like leona’s fighting off the entire school 😭😭🙏🙏

date published: 8/24/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[oceantornadoo]

toxic but in love fwb!simon with some hurt/comfort

“i know your gala is important, si, but can’t you come? just this once i just want-“ you were wringing your hands, twisting them into unfamiliar shapes as you argued with simon, your situationship. you two were always like this, pushing and pulling at the boundaries of your relationship. moon and tide, destined to move each other but never close enough. “we’re not dating an’ i have a work thing. can’t come.” he shrugged nonchalantly, turning his head so he couldn’t see the pleading look on your face. instead, he pushed himself off your couch and reached for his jacket by the door. the silence in the air turned sour, some dark ugly thing created by him. his heart was a dead thing inside his chest, unable to muster a beat or two for you. he wanted to. a want so deep it ran in his blood, turning him cold. “fine. see you in six months or whatever.” your voice was stony, bitter. you reached for the tv remote and unpaused the show you two were watching, trying not to care about the sounds of him lacing his boots and grabbing his keys. you were done, done with this tug of war. you felt his stare drill through the side of your head as he put on his mask, the final bit to his ensemble. he might think that’s what got him named ghost, but it was really this, this act of playing human when he just didn’t care. he was a poltergeist in your life, knocking things out of order but refusing to show when it mattered. you were done.

one night later and here you were at your first art show, the debut of your career. dressed in your fanciest attire, second glass of champagne in your hand as you tried to network your way through the room. your feet ached from your shoes and there was an itch in your back you couldn’t quite reach, but you put on your best smile as another potential buyer went on and on about their summer in the hamptons. simon wasn’t here but it was fine. the tears you had been swallowing back for the past thirty minutes were just tears of joy at your accomplishments, nothing more. you thanked the buyer and turned the corner, finishing off your glass as you took a much needed break. suddenly a hush went over the crowd, a slight silence broken by a small quip. the room went back to normal but you went to check it out anyways, hoping it wasn’t someone making a bad comment about your work.

you arrived at the entrance and almost passed out at the sight before you. four men-no, machines, dressed in full military regalia stood in front of you. soap and gaz were already working the crowd while price was entertaining one of your donors, but your eyes were focused on ghost. ghost, who traded his balaclava for a more crowd-friendly medical mask, stood in front of you with a bouquet of carnations and a bottle of wine. you approached him slowly like you would a skittish animal, taking patient, methodical steps. “read carnations are for celebrations.” he said, almost sheepishly, as he mechanically thrust the bouquet towards you. you took it out of instinct, eyes still focused on his. “you came?” you said unbelievingly. simon was here, simon brought his friends, simon brought you gifts? he had to have been drugged or something. there was no way. “you called.” he answered, breaking out of his awkwardness. “‘m sorry for yesterday. knew i was coming, jus’ gave you a hard time. had to celebrate my girl’s first show.” your mouth dropped at that. my girl. “but…but we’re not dating?” you took a step forward, the rest of the room falling away as his gloved hand touched your cheek, brushing back the wrinkles on your forehead. “d’ya want to, lovie? was at this gala all night, thinkin’ bout how fun it would’ve been to have you there with me. makin’ fun of all those puffed up generals.” you let out a small chuckle and his back straightened, encouraged by the sound of your laughter. he loved the sounds of your laughter, your drunk giggles and your loud snorts. most especially he loved the sharp barks of surprise you made, the ones you gave when something or someone made you happy without expecting it. like now. “yes. if you’re sure.” the foggy emotions in your head were finally clearing, letting in the sun. his warm eyes caressed your face, pride evident in his face. “‘m sure.” he sealed it with a kiss to your forehead, not wanting to be unprofessional at your work event. simon felt something in his chest. maybe a heartbeat. maybe he had one after all.

—

thought of the “you came? you called” tiktok audio with this one. currently on my period so y’all will only be getting emotional stuff for the next couple of days 🫶

[kanmom51]

Jikook and their ramen talk

Are you sure? Episode 4

We finally got to it. The poolside ramen talk.

Talk about Jikook and their underlying innuendos.

Where do we start?

With the Ramen?

With the shower talk?

With PPEURIRI?

Let's start with this first, I guess.

Something that by now we should be all very well aware of.

And it's not like it's not a running joke with Jikook already, right?

You know, just listening to the conversation, reading the translation, it can most definitley go under the radar as an innocent convo about deciding if to eat some ramen or not after their lovely playful pool time fun time.

But nope.

It most certainly ain't just that.

All you need is to:

a. Look at their faces and body language. This was not just about food. Well, not FOOD food.

b. The little additives that somehow go untranslated. The fact that each one of them finds the way to weave it into their conversation at the most interesting times of said convo. I will get to it, believe me I will.

So, basically they got out of the pool and JM was hungry.

I'm going to go with hungry and HUNGRY. And I'm not going to be swayed!!!

Sorry, not sorry. No conversation about being hungry and wanting to eat carbs is that funny.

But, a conversation about ramen laced with plenty of sexual inuendo most definitely is!!!

And that is what was going on there.

Talking about ramen and being hungry and being able to eat it all, all while at the same time there is a whole underlined conversation going on, with lots of eye contact and giggles and hints as loud as can be.

Like this here:

🐥what? you don't have to eat. i can eat it all

🐰ppeuriri~

Both giggling away.

I think a little reminder is necessary here as to what ppeuriri is all about, right?

Not really, but I'll give it anyway.

Ppeuriri = JM's 3D...

Body to body to body to body to body You and me, baby, you know that we got it So don't go gettin' me started 'Cause you know I get hot-hearted Baby, oh, baby, oh, baby, you makin' me crazy Rain, rain, rain, you can't fake it You give me brand-new emotion You got me drinkin' that potion I just wanna see you like that See you like that, uh-uh So if you're ready (so if you're ready) And if you'll let me (and if you'll let me) I wanna see it in motion, in 3D (hey, show me, girl, now, uh-uh) You won't regret me (you won't regret me) Champagne confetti (champagne confetti, hey) I wanna see it in motion, in 3D (come on, come on, come on)

Like I said, no way those two had entirely pure intentions while having that whole ramen conversation.

That was JK bringing up ppeuriri, both going all giggly. But that wasn't the end of that, now was it?

If, for some reason you would think that it was just nothing, an instinctual slip of the tongue, out of no where, with no meaning behind it...

There goes JM and does it again.

🐰We might feel differently after a shower.

🐰This might be because we just swam.

🐥ppeuriri~

This time no giggles, just a smile and then a sultry expression walking towards JK.

Cut.

Talk about showering with them off camera.

And lots of shady stuff going on to make us think that maybe, just maybe, those two kind of showered together.

Idk, am I being clear enough?

So, let's talk about that shower for a second.

We see JK going into the bathroom, JM nowhere to be seen.

Obviously he's not showering upstairs with Tae asleep there and both of their suitcases spread out open in front of the downstairs bathroom.

Next we see JM outside of the bathroom brushing his hair dressed after the shower and JK is in the bathroom partially dressed after that shower.

JM walking in behind JK, and yes, it looks like he's lifting his arms to fix his hair, but that cut there again.... I am choosing to believe that he also went in for a hug there. Hill meet Kanmom.

Oh, and hunger issue solved at this point.

Ppeuriri.

All jokes aside (or perhaps not so much a joke...), I just want to remind you one more time that 3D was released on 29 September 2023, all while this is being filmed 26 September 2023!!

[starslyt]

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲 — 𝗘. 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗿

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲!𝗘𝗿𝗲𝗻, 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝗽𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 (𝗺𝗮, 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝗲𝘁𝗰), 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵. 𝗜𝘁𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗺𝗲

𝗪𝗰: 𝟵𝟲𝟲

smut under the cut. minors do not interact

the love was strong— too strong and too good to be fucking true. eren was your home and you were his but a night out turned this reality upside down real fast

in your defense, it wasn’t even your fault that some other nigga walked up to you trynna sweet talk you, you wasn’t really thinking straight anyways— not after mixing liquor

“you mad fine..” “yeah? you think so?” those pretty two tones lips wrapping around that glass of yours eyeing the mf infront of you

even through the giggles and soft smiles you made for the nigga, you ain’t want him. it just felt nice to hear from a 3rd person perspective to hear how sexy you were

but Eren didn’t find it enjoyable. watching his girl fall for some other dudes tricks like that and that easily. he’d let you have your little fun or whatever, but when y’all got home it was gonna be game fucking over for you

that’s why now your legs were wrapped around his hips as eren messily kissed those full lips of yours. thrusting his cock in your wet cunt and as you moaned for him trying to convince him it wasn’t nothing

“’m sorry daddy— please.. shit—” you scratched up his chest as your pretty lips fell open locking eyes with his. they were so cloudy with anger and jealousy

“you think he was gon’ fuck you like this, ma? you though you was gon’ get off with that shit? don’t play with me, girl.”

a ring of cream settling at his base and some dripping down his balls as he pounded into your messy cunt with pants and whines of his own as he punished that pussy for your wrong-doings

“this pussy s’good mama, yeah keep them legs open f’me. lemme show you who you belong to.”

Eren spoke against those lips of yours as his nails dug into your thighs leaving marks. he was too inlove with this pussy to ever let it go, under some circumstances and standards.

“ouu daddy s’too much..” your lips gently biting into his. eren eyes never left your face, them faces is what had him so inlove. that magic he saw in them eyes of yours when you were screaming for more or, in this case, less

“nah, baby, take this dick. you a big girl now mama, you can do it. make daddy proud.”

Eren huffed as he stroked that swollen clit of yours trying to milk that orgasm out of you. your hands gripped the sheets hard as your back arched off the bed with a breath you sucked up to moan out coming to a halt, quickly.

“yeah there it is, sweet girl. cum f’me, gimmie that shit”

the roughness of his voice went straight to your pussy as you squirted. your liquids spraying his chest as he let out a soft sigh as he watched that pussy cream and squirt all for him

“keep going, girl. you makin’ me so proud. look at this pussy squirting f’me. this pussy s’good. i don’t know who you think you playin’ with.”

Eren pounded into you harder with a grin on this face was he watched those pretty brown eyes of yours roll back and that brown skin glistening in the light as you squirmed and moaned

“who you think you runnin’ from, ma? you finna gimme one more. don’t start runnin’ now. keep this pussy cummin’ f’me. you wanna act grown so bad be grown wi’me”

all you could do was choke back a complaint and some slick-mouthed comment but as soon as the annoyance rised it was quickly consumed by the pleasure from feeling his fat cock pumping out of those squeezing walls of yours

“fuck— you squeezin’ so tight. you gon’ make me cum, princess? make daddy cum. lemme fill this pretty pussy up with my babies. open up f’me..”

Eren’s hands squeezed around your waist as he piston fucked his way deeper inside you making your vision flash white and a loud moan escape your throat

you’d both get a complaint from the neighbors, but that was the least of your worries right now

Eren’s nimble fingers trailing down your your clit once more pulling and rubbing it trying to milk out another orgasm from you as his orgasm was quickly approaching

“you gon let me fill this pussy up?” “yeah.. please daddy.. ouu shit fill this pussy up. s’all yours” your toes were curling behind his head, those thighs that he loved so much started to shake as his orgasm was just a few thrusts away

“cum wi’me. c’mon mama, i can feel this pussy getting wetter, make a mess f’daddy again.”

“yes daddy.. oh my g— m’cumming! m’cumming! oh shit—”

once more your pussy was gushing for him again with a scream ripping out of your throat as he fucked his own orgasm into you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and uneven as his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes closed

those puffy lips of yours swallowing every drop of him in that pussy as he slowed his thrusts down so both of you could catch your breaths.

“yeah that’s my good girl, shiiit baby. such a good job. lemme fuck a baby into you. i think you’d be so pretty with my babies in you. ain’t nobody finna take yo pretty ass away from me.”

he panted as his thrusts picked up again as a whine came out of your throat it didn’t seem like you two were gonna stop for a while, not until he got you pregnant with his baby.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

For a request:

Maybe a rescue fic with ghost, price, or soap? One where they rescue their non military fem s/o? I know you’ve written some already and they are so good but I EAT THEM UP EVERY TIME and love that trope so much!!!!!!

Hurt/comfort is my drug I swear

I know that’s pretty vague so maybe I’ll think of more eventually but that’s what I’ve got for now.

I love your writing!

- 🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

None Lacking Sins

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Synopsis: It started with the incident at the grocery store and then built to the hidden gun in the nightstand and a quick, frantic, call to your boyfriend.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: Implied stalking, violence & blood, angst, protective Soap, suggestive language and conversations, implications of wanting a kid, vulgar language, fluffy banter, hurt/comfort, canon typical actions, edited in the middle of the night

A/N: I've been in a Soap mood lately, tbh. I think I'm going to flip-flop uploads for my Gaz series and Requests too...anyways. Enjoy, anon! You can never go wrong with a rescue fic!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

You called him for the first time when you were at the store, picking out dinner and asking what he wanted for a welcome home meal.

“Well,” his sly voice made you roll your eyes, but a smile still blossomed over your lips. “If you want me to be rash, Bonnie, I’d say that I wouldn't mind a good bite out of your–”

“Johnny, you finish that sentence, you’re not going to get anything besides butter on toast. Give me a recipe before it gets dark out.” Veiled glee was obvious from your tone, and the heat on your face could all but be heard over the line. Two months apart had made you both eager to be in each other's presence. 

Picking up a box of pasta, you flip it over and check the price, sticking to your budget and tilting the phone parallel to your chin. A deep chuckle meets your ears, and your chest feels light as it pierces your lungs. 

Your boyfriend was off in Australia this deployment—he’d been complaining about the heat nonstop on those few and far between video calls the two of you shared. While it was a step-up to know where exactly Johnny was this go around, the prospect of his job still made you incredibly nervous. There was never a time you could remember when he came home without a new cut or scar; bruises were all but guaranteed. 

Sucking down a soothing breath, you place the pasta into your cart and fix the phone’s position. The Scot was coming home in a day or so, you wanted to make him feel at home again. Destress.

You’ll see him before you know it. There’s no need to worry.

“Bit snappy, then, eh? Oh, alright.” The man huffs good-heartedly, and you hear the springs of those thin barracks-bed mattresses as his large frame shifts. Johnny lets off a soft sigh before continuing. You listen intently, leaning onto the handlebar ahead of you. “What about a nice plate ‘O that one you always make—hell—the…the one with the Pollock and cabbage.”

You blink through a laugh, shaking your head and pushing yourself off to go find the needed ingredients. The dish wasn’t easy to make, in fact, it took a helluva lot of time, but you didn’t mind in the slightest when it came to cooking for Johnny. He deserved it. 

“Hey, now,” He teases, smirking to himself, “What’s so funny over there, Dearie? You makin’ fun of me?”

“I would never dream of it, oh great and wondrous, Mr. MacTavish!” You huff, fake serious, as you place a box of cookies into the cart and pass a few strangers who raise an eyebrow at your conversation. A man passes by with a blue cap on, and you swerve the cart to move around him while tossing back a frown. You soon continue on like nothing happened, pulling back the sense of security from the man over the line. “Do you want mashed potatoes with that as well? Wine?”

Johnny groans, “Hey, you’re the one that asked me!” 

Divulging into giggles, you make your way around the store and stock up, holding a light conversation about how he and the rest of the boys were doing. 

“Ghost told me to let you know he appreciated the book you lent him, said he’d get it back to ya as soon as he’s able.” The Scot comments, and a hum makes its way from you as you head to the self-checkout. 

“Well, that’s good. I said he would like it – the bastard’s so tight-lipped about what he enjoys it was hard to nail-down a genre.” A chortle sounds off when you gather the chilled pollock and scan it; the phone was held against your shoulder to your ear. “High Fantasy for the win, I guess.” 

“I should get the man to read ‘The Way of Kings’ next time—form a little book club, y’know? Get all the boys in on it like some old ladies.” It was adorable how cute Johnny sounded, like a kid on Christmas. “Stemin’ Jesus, could you picture that, Bonnie?”

“I’d pay to see you pitch that, Dear.” A cheeky tone leaks through. “Price would laugh straight into your face.” 

“Please, the old man doesn’t know how to laugh….He’d just puff cigar smoke in my face and tell me to fuck off.” 

“As I said—I’d pay to see it.” Your boyfriend grumbles under his breath as you place the paper bags into your cart, the contents heavy, and grab your receipt with quick fingers. “Gaz would definitely be in for it, though.”

“I don’t doubt that. Anything beats playing cards for weeks straight, aye?” Your hand can finally grip the phone once more, and you sigh contently as the strained position of your neck finally rights itself. 

You’re about to answer but slow your pace with a scrunched look of confusion as you exit. 

Passing through the front doors, you suddenly get a strange sensation in the back of your mind to turn around. The hairs along your arms stand up as a breeze passes the steadily chilling dark sky, but the way the shiver ran down your spine wasn’t due to cold. Lips thinning, you spare a glance over your shoulder and look along the brightly lit grocery store as its windows leave cascading rays of light over the sun-bleached concrete. The black asphalt of the parking lot is hard under your feet.

There are a handful of other patrons at the checkouts—mothers with children and others buying quick meals for dinner—but none are out of the ordinary. 

You huff and roll your shoulders.

Maybe the day’s just getting to me.

“Bonnie,” Johnny’s slightly concerned voice brings you blinking back, turning your head back to the sparsely lit parking lot and realizing you had stopped walking completely. Your hand was sweaty like you’d just run somewhere. Fixing your hold on the device, your boyfriend continues, “...Everything alright? You’ve gone all quiet over there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh dismissively, trudging forward to your car, “I just got the weirdest feeling right outside the grocery store.” 

The cart makes a loud rumbling sound as it goes over loose rocks and the bumpy texture of the asphalt, the metal rattling loudly so you have to strain your ears to hear Johnny’s next words. 

“What kind of feeling?” His drowned-out voice was so serious that it shocked you—you’d only ever heard him use a tone like this when he had briefly talked about nightmares that had woken him up in your shared bed. 

The Scot’s words were monotone, slow, and even if the sound of the cart’s wheels was raging all around you and making your skull rattle, you’d still swear you would identify that tone over a hurricane. It made your gut churn. 

“Really, it’s probably nothing,” you play off with a tense shrug he can’t see, coming to a stop at your car and reaching into your pocket for your keys. “I just got a chill.” 

Your eyes look around before you open the trunk, biting into your lip at the long shadows that the tall street lamps give off. Licking over your teeth, you bink dismissively and shake your head, unlocking the vehicle and huffing as you begin loading in your purchases. 

“Anyways,” you try to ignore the hard build of your spine or the way your eyes travel back to the brightly lit store. There wasn’t anyone out here but you and the dead forms of cars, trees off in the distance, and far-off lights of other buildings. You swallow and clear your throat. “I was thinking about getting us a dog.” 

“You’re not gettin’ out of this that—wait, did you say dog?” Across the world in a shitty bed, Johnny’s once concerned eyes widen, jaw going slack. “No way in Christ’s Hell, Dearie.”

“Oh, come on!” You groan, placing the second to last bag into the car and tuning your back to the street, throwing out your hand. “It doesn’t have to be a big dog—just one I can go on walks with and keep me company. I know you have a bad past with them, Love, but I just want someone to help not make the house so empty when you’re gone.” 

Your voice slides off near the end of the sentence, and you try not to sound so sullen. Johnny frowns as he stares into the far wall of the barracks over the heads of sleeping men, itching at the back of his neck. It was no secret that the Scot wasn’t particularly fond of canines—his encounters with them were almost never pleasant unless he knew the handler. 

But…

“I’ll think it over, eh, Bonnie?” He relents, sighing, and he thinks he hears snickers from a dark form in the distant corner. The Sergeant glares over at it and continues with a pang of internal guilt about how lonely you must feel most of the time. “Promise…but you’re more likely to get a cat dressed in a suit than a mangy mutt anytime soon.” 

You laugh at the attempt of a lighthearted joke, closing the trunk with a roll of your eyes. A breeze goes by and your arms erupt into shivers, clothes not enough to keep out the chill. 

“I’ll take it.” 

“Hm, you know,” Johnny smirks, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes and grunting out huskily, “there’s another way to make sure the house won’t be all quiet when I’m gone.”

“Keep it in your pants, MacTavish. You’re not even here yet.” Smiling through the heat of your cheeks, the skin of your cheeks glows; your body rolls with heat. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“What, am I gettin’ you all worked up over there?” He hums, and you grab your cart, pushing it into one of the specific areas where someone would grab it in the morning. “‘Cause I have no problem with waitin’, Dearie, all the more perfect when I get to be with ya.’”

“You wish, handsome.” Walking back to the slight rumbling of your car, you speak through tilted lips and completely miss the form walking up beside you. “I think that—”

“Excuse me?” 

Yelping, you nearly drop your phone to the floor as it slips out of your startled grip; heart jerking at the sudden intrusion into an intimate conversation. Swiftly turning around you spot the same man as before—the one with the blue cap that had passed by quite rudely in the store. His strong face looks sheepish.

Johnny quickly calls your name through the line, and you let off a reassurance before tilting the device down.

“Holy hell, man, give a girl a warning next time, yeah?” Chuckling weakly to push back tension and the twisting of your intestines, you notice the stranger’s tall frame is covered in a heavy jacket. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually,” He’s not outwardly alarming to look at, the man, with his loose body gestures and controlled tone. “Sorry, but I was just wondering if you could lend me a hand. I found a kitten under a van back there,” he points, and you look over to the far corner of the parking lot. Sure enough, there was a large van surrounded by two black cars. Your eyes narrow on the scene, already getting a prickly feeling. “Do you have any food that might bring it out? Or maybe you’d be willing to reach under and grab the little bastard?” 

The stranger laughs and continues with a jerking of his shoulders. You watch every movement with an upticking pulse, fingers tight over the phone as Johnny listens with growing worry. 

The Sergeant's dark eyebrows pull tight, and he stands like he could run out the door to you; jaw tight and muscles wound.

“Put me on speaker.” You decline silently. Better not to get a hotheaded and protective Scot involved when he was thousands of miles away.

“Sorry,” Clearing your throat, you take a step back, attempting a friendly smile. “I have to get home to my husband.” It wasn’t the first time you’d had to use the spouse card to get away from creeps, and it won't be the last. Worked better than just the boyfriend title, honestly. And there was something about this man’s eyes that didn’t sit right with you. “Work night and all, you understand?”

“He left yet?” Johnny asks, gruff as his accent gets stronger. “Else I’m callin’ the store and sending security out to you.” 

“It shouldn’t take a long time,” the man begs and you take another slow step back to the car door, pupils going tiny. Breaths shallow. “You’ll be back to your…husband, in a few minutes. I’d hate to leave the poor guy all alone.” 

“Sorry.” You say again, firmer. “No.” 

Not wasting any time, you open the car and jump inside, wrenching it closed once more and pressing the lock. Breathing heavily, you stick the keys into the ignition, missing a couple of times, and look into the side mirrors to spy on the tall shadow that hovers like a plague. 

“Sweetheart? Hey?” Johnny calls out your name as you force the car to start driving away, face tight and limbs shaking. “Hey, are you alright?” 

The man has half the sense to wake up Price, but with the stirring bodies around him, there’s half a chance the Captain already knows something’s off. Johnny hadn’t bothered to check his noise level when the uncomfortableness seeped from you over to him. What kind of a man approaches a woman near dark and asks a question like that? The action didn’t sit right with the Scot. 

Johnny’s body hums with energy—volatile rage keeps his heart in a tight fist with a deep seething hatred of not being with you to help force back the freaks in person. He wasn’t above getting into someone's face if the situation called for it; after a couple of outings to less-than-nice pubs, all it took was a few nervous glances from you nowadays for him to create a barrier out of his own flesh.

“I’m okay,” you whisper to him, biting at your lips and peeling back flesh. “It’s all good. I-I’m on the road already.” 

A great weight falls from the man in the form of a sigh. He slowly sits back down on the mattress, lips thinning and slightly shaking his head. His free hand comes up to rub over his cheek. 

“Good. That’s good…” He snaps out of his concerned stupor quickly, but the fast beating of his heart does anything but slow. “You’re okay.” 

It wasn’t worded as a question, maybe more of a reassurance, but it helped you immensely. Your tension lessened at the comforting sound of Scottish drawl and deep, silver, voice. But you wanted him to wrap his arms around you; gaze into those cerulean orbs.

Tomorrow.

“Keep on the line until I get home?” You ask feebly, not able to resist looking in the mirrors as you turn out of the parking lot. 

The blue-capped stranger was still standing there, and one of the black cars in the far corner had turned its headlights on. A deep dread overtakes your ribs like you’d just gotten out of something very, very, bad. A sense of a lingering morality stays in between your ribs.

“‘Course. Wouldn’t be doin’ anything else, Bonnie.” Johnny utters, glaring at the floor. “I’ll be ‘ere the whole time.”

It wasn’t fair that he was unable to be there with you—never before had the constraints from his job hit him full strength in the chest like this. If he can’t protect the ones he loves back on the home field, then what was the point of the Task Force in the first place? 

By the time you get home after taking the fastest route, you quickly gather everything from the back and shuffle inside, pulse still racing. You lock the door behind you and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

Johnny’s soft breath over the call was like a lullaby, right in your ear as if he was beside you in bed. Oh, you missed his soft snores more than anything. Your gaze goes glossy, but the tears are held back stubbornly. 

As if sensing your turmoil, your boyfriend speaks lowly. 

“Y’know, I bet the rest of the boys would really love it if we kept ‘em over for a drink and a bite when we all get back. I can whip up something quick on the grill and you can take a breather, eh?” He speaks so softly it almost makes the tears worse, heart palpitating. 

You wetly laugh and place a hand to your mouth, standing in the dark foyer with groceries on the floor and a primal fear slowly leaving you. The familiar scents of charcoal and birch wood from the Scots hair product are stuck into the very walls of this shared dwelling, along with the scuffs on the floor from play-wrestling during movies; a light that needed to be replaced due to Johnny accidentally running straight into it at two am. He had thought an intruder had broken in, but it was just a bird that had snuck in through an open window.

The signs of a well-lived and loved home. 

“But you wanted pollock,” you grumble with a hidden smile and burning ears, pushing the tip of your shoe into the front rug.

Johnny beams and goes to lie back down, putting a hand behind his head against the pillow.

“Well, now I’m makin’ burgers. Guess you’re just going to have to sit back and watch my fabulous arse from the porch, yeah, Dearie? Don’t burn a hole into them, now, they’re the only pair I’ve got, and I know how much you like ‘em.”

“Shut up.” 

“I’ll even wear that apron you got me—what was it you said it did,” the cheeky Scot smirks, all teeth and crinkled eyelids, and hears your complaints get louder as your mind flies away from what had happened almost immediately. “Made me look like I should be in a porno? Hell, if you were in it with me, I’d not complain ‘bout it. Steamin’ Jesus, I’d let you do horrible things to me, Dearie.”

From somewhere in the barracks a low groan echoes out and Johnny snaps his hand down to stifle his loud laughter as you bark at him. 

“MacTavish!” 

Great bouts of laughter leave everyone glaring from atop pillows and from over fingers stuffed into ears; some even get up and gather blankets, leaving the barracks room entirely.

In your foyer, your body blazes with heat like you’d been set on fire, a hand placed over your eyes and a treacherous grin on your mouth. 

“Keep your voice down, you absolute arsepiece!”

“Aye—! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya!” 

“Johnny!”

—

The second time you called him was out of pure curiosity, only a few hours before your lover was scheduled to come home and cook for you and his Task Force. Around six o'clock. 

“When was our postbox all scratched up?” Your thumb runs over the black numbers of the sequence, blinking with wrinkled skin as you take a glance at the neighbors’ and frown. No one else's was like that. “I thought you said you compromised with the local kids and would give them money for sweets so they would stop messing with our stuff?” 

“Little fiends were sucking me dry!” Johnny huffs, “No way the devils would pass up more sugar and do something like that. What’s it look like, then? A few stray rocks manage to dent it?”

Your lips release a sigh and you pick up your mail with an annoyed grunt, closing and locking the cubby as you reply. “No way, it looks like someone took a knife to it.” Clicking your tongue, you shake your head. “God, things have just been going wrong lately.”

Shuffling his feet over the tarmac and hearing the plane engines die down behind him, Johnny takes a glance back. Price was standing at the top of the C17 arms crossed and head tilted—the Scot could imagine the raised eyebrow almost immediately. 

He grimaces and holds up a finger, walking a few more steps away as Gaz leaves the hull with his bags slung over his shoulders. 

“I can’t talk any longer, Bonnie, Price’ll wring me for not helpin’ unload the gear. He’s damn near skinnin’ me already.”

You chuckle, “Tell him I said ‘hello’ and not to damage the face.” 

“Oh, you’re a horror, you are, Dearie.” 

Quick declarations of love and see you soons were exchanged before the connection was cut, and your feet carried you back into the house. Your phone and the mail went to sit on the tiny hallways table, shoes tossed onto the plastic mat sitting on the floor with a small thump. 

Sighing, you rub over your eyes, thinking over if it was worth calling the post office or just trying to fix the scratches yourself. 

“I think we have some paint in the garage…” You trail off. 

Ultimately, you just pushed that to the back burner. Johnny was coming home. Your lips peeled into a large smile, and you’re rushing off to get into a nice outfit for the rest of Task Force who was coming a bit later than your boyfriend. Thoughts of finally being able to be picked up by your boyfriend's strong arms were all-consuming, being held into a broad chest and digging your nails to the dip of his spine. 

Just being able to be around the mohawked-man was a blessing that you’d never take for granted. 

You settled on a nice top and casual pants—you’d met the others before, so there was no need to go overboard. Smoothing your clothes down, you enter the living room and go to open the curtains, letting the light of the interior spread to the small lawn and the street. Humming under your breath, the vehicle outside doesn’t catch your attention immediately; the black metal is just another parked entity sitting still. 

When you do pause, your curtains half-opened, the delayed shock makes you lose precious time as you stare slack-jawed at one of the twin cars from yesterday at the parking lot. Your fingers clench into the fabric in a sudden moment of frozen shock. As if a mythical creature had just run past your field of view, the parting of your lips is instinctual before the widening of your eyes. 

A still second passes before you’re sprinting to the front door—locking it and snatching your phone. Heart pounding, you make a dash to the bedroom, dialing Johnny with fear-tight pupils. 

He had told you if there was ever an emergency to call him right away, he’d get there faster than any police officer; for the record, you believed that wholeheartedly. Johnny was more loyal than a dog in a pack, once someone raised the alarm the Sergeant was locked in. 

Rushing into the bedroom, you trip over the tossed covers but right yourself as the dialing tone sounds out, heavy breathing making your lungs hurt. You open the nightstand table and dig under a collection of books, hand meeting the smooth metal of an M9 pistol. 

Putting the phone on speaker, you throw it onto the mattress.

Legally, you shouldn’t even have this—while Johnny had been teaching you to shoot, you didn’t have a license for it yet. But he’d insisted on leaving you behind with something to defend yourself with.

The confused voice of your lover sounds over the open space. “Jesus, Bonnie, you miss me that much? It cannae ‘ave been more than ten minutes—”

“The car from yesterday is outside the house.” You throw the books to the floor and hear them make a clatter just as you pull out a box of ammunition. Taking out the gun’s magazine, you load bullets with a violently shaking hand. Some hit the ground with a metallic ping, but you pay little attention, just blinking back anxious tears and a harsh focus on the sounds of the front door handle being jimmied.

“I…what?” Johnny’s voice gets heavier, demanding with a snarl trapped in the back of his throat. 

Standing stationary in the doorway Base—about a twenty-minute drive from home, the man’s heart suddenly jumps in his breast. Did he hear you right? Behind him, Ghost slows to a stop at the now blocked opening, watching with narrowed eyes; a large rifle slung over his shoulder and a carry bag in his arm. Johnny’s shoulders wind tight, feet parted as he suddenly turns on his heels and takes off back the way he came in, the phone still at his ear where the Lieutenant knew you were on the call.

“What the fuck?!” Ghost’s skeletal head follows after and pointedly notices the Scots lack of care for how his bags hit the ground but keeps the pistol holstered at his thigh and the combat knife strapped to his upper shoulder. 

“Johnny?” He calls out, but only the wind answers him. “The hell are you off to?!” The gargantuan man sends a glance over to Price who was watching just as intently, lids narrowed. Gaz cleared his throat.

“....Shouldn’t we follow him? Sounds pretty serious.” 

Price sighs, taking a moment to watch Soap sprint to the main building and shove past other soldiers and staff. He grunts.

“Move light.” 

The phone call was filled with heavy breathing and hurried orders. 

Your boyfriend was running you down the basics of firing at a moving target as the sound of pounding at the front door became more hurried.

“It’s not like a stationary target—when someone’s runnin’ at ya, they're gonna be moving quick and you’re not going to be able to fire if you don’t mean it!” 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter with a shaky inhalation, loading the M9’s magazine and clicking off the safety. “What the hell do they want with me?” The whispered question is more for you than it is for anyone else, but the answer from the sprinting Scot startles you. 

At that exact moment, the pounding of a fist stops completely.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna fire at the first bastard that comes down that hallway. We’ll ask the questions later.” You hear a car door opening and a yell from Johnny’s side, soon the clammer of grunting breaths an exclamation of ‘hurry the fuck up!’

“I—”

“If you need to, leave through the window and go to the neighbors. Take cover in the foliage and slip away to the back alley.” Johnny never spoke like this to you—clipped and deathly serious. But now that you think about it, as you stay frozen and barricaded in the bedroom, if he spoke any differently you’d probably break down. “Do you copy?”

This was Sergeant MacTavish, and damn him if anything came between that man and the people he cared about. 

He barks your name, “Do you copy?!” 

“Yeah,” the gun shakes in your grip, but nonetheless you hold it at your hip and turn your eyes to the window. It would be easier to leave, you think. You’re not trained for this! “I–I think I’m going to—”

The front door’s window is broken with a shattering of glass. You rush to the phone and turn off the speaker, afraid that the sound would immediately tell these people where you were. Loud shouts flow into the foyer and spread like venom under the crack of the thin barrier separating you and the intruders. 

“Spread out and find her!”

“Yes, Sir!” 

Sir? You ask, eyes snapping this way and that as Johnny is dead silent on the other side. You think you hear the slam of a foot to the pedal, but you can’t be sure. Fuck, there was so much going on, you didn’t know what to do.

“Screw this, I’m going out the fucking window.” You gasp out, lungs tight and skin sweaty, you turn on the safety on the gun and stuff it into your belt. 

One-handed, you unlatch the lock and strain your ears, hearing feet getting closer. Grunting, you shove the heavy frame up and try to stop the ringing in your ears. Whoever these people in your house were—they were professionals. They had patience; studied your intellect with the trick in the parking lot and followed you home so they could mark your postbox number as a reminder of your address. What the hell was happening? 

Just as you’re about to make the small drop into the flower bed, a creak echoes from behind the bedroom door. You freeze in place, one foot dangling into the backyard. 

Breathing slowly, your eyes lock to the deep shadow that spreads like two distorted poles as the large feet face the very place you’d holed up. As delicately as you’re able with an award-setting tremor in your gut, you place the phone down onto the window sill; Johnny’s loud and worried voice dims as all attention moves to self-preservation. You’re just about to reach for your gun when the door busts off its hinges. 

Starling, and before your hands can find purchase, you’re tumbling backward—out of the house entirely with a stifled shout of alarm. Slamming to the ground and crushing flowers in the process, you have no time to think about the pain going up your spine or at the base of your skull before you’re scrambling for the M9. 

Just as someone peeks out from the window, face covered and holding an assault rifle, you’re firing three shots in rapid succession as you don’t even remember flicking off the safety. 

Two shots miss entirely, but on the last and final press of the trigger, as your arms catch the recoil, it connects. 

A comment is cut short as blood explodes in a great wave of velocity, coating the house upwards almost to the shingled roof. The body slumps, weight bringing it down to hang limp over the frame.

Wide-eyed, you still hold the shaking gun in the air, muzzle smoking, breathing fast through your mouth. Had you just…

Your stomach bunched, acid traveling up your throat to pool under your tongue. Perhaps you would have thrown up at that moment, the setting reality that you’d just shot someone in the head like an anvil in your pounding skull. But the barking voices from inside the house snap you back. 

Gasping down the breaths you realized you hadn’t been taking, your wobbly feet dart to shove you up like a newborn deer as sprinting bodies close in on the porch’s sliding door. God, you could only imagine what Johnny was thinking. 

Bolting out of your backyard fence, you remember your lover’s orders and run as fast as you’re able to the neighbor's open yard, using the darkening sky to help cover you. Cursing under your breath and thinking over all of the ways this should have already gone wrong, you wipe at the tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Don’t think about it—just get away.

It wasn’t long before you were down the alleyway, feet weak and lungs burning. There was a stickiness to the back of your scalp, blood, undoubtedly, from an injury caused by the fall.

It’s a damn miracle I didn’t break anything. 

What would you have done then? Just let those people take or kill you? You shiver at the idea and force yourself to go faster. Darting around a corner, your feet skid to a quick halt. 

The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at your face. 

“Had a feeling you’d be slippery.” It was the voice of the man from the parking lot—the man with the blue cap. Your face jerks to an imitation of confined horror and unease at the same eyes boring into you. He was dressed in gear like the rest of the men now exiting your house to hunt you down. The stranger shifts his feet and you flinch. “Drop the gun, Sweetheart.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You find your voice, hissing out. The pistol clatters to the floor as it slips from your grip and you hate how you flinch at the sound. 

“Your boyfriend and his buddies are hard to track down.” Blue Cap huffs, and the tall stature of the man makes you incredibly nervous. Backing up a step instinctually, he follows and smirks. “But I figured the best way to meet him was to find his little bird first—he’d come right to me. Cliche, I know, but you can’t fault me. Works every time.” 

What did this guy want with your Johnny? Gritting your teeth, your fingers shake at your sides, hips tense and ready to run.

“He’ll kill you.” You level, not keen to show this man how disgusting you felt being near him. 

He shuffles up next to you, grabbing the meat of your arm. Trying to jerk away, the barrel of his weapon is shoved into your ribs; gasping, your body goes rigid.

If your heart goes any faster, it’ll break.

“Not if I threaten to kill you first.” Forcing you forward, you glare and feel the urge to spit in the man’s face. “C’mon, hun.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, freak.” 

“Ooo…fangs. Can’t be surprised, you did shoot one of my men, after all. Not a bad trigger finger, but you do need decent work on your accuracy if you wanna make anything out of it.” Your eyebrows pull in as you’re corralled back out of the alleyway, barrel bruising your skin and blood dripping down your neck. The man’s grip hurts as a strangled whimper falls from your bitten lips. 

Feet scraping over concrete, you’re brought out into the street as neighbors peak out of windows with drawn curtains; phones to their faces. Did these intruders not care about the police? If anything, that made you sweat more. 

“Ride’s waiting.” 

“I’m not getting into that.” Grunting, your eyes are stuck on the black void of the car parked in the street. A menagerie of other armed men stands all over. “Hell no—you can just shoot me now if that’s the case.”

“Don’t tempt me, I can still go after the Sergeant’s dear old mom,” your lungs chill as the man chuckles to himself, looking down at you through dark lashes. “He has a cousin, too, am I right?” 

Rageful tears spark behind your lids as you blink. 

No way it was going to go like this. Where’s Johnny? 

The gun was taken from your ribs as you’re shoved forward. 

“Get in. Now. We’re already behind schedule.” You stare into the interior and clench your fists, lips quivering but jaw clenched. Your Lover’s voice comes to you, sure of himself and laced with stubbornness. 

If you’re ever in trouble, you wait for me, Dearie. I’ll be there ‘fore you know it, ready to defend your honor like the knight in shinin’ armor I am, eh? Why are you laughing…?

Turning back around with every ounce of courage you can muster, you splay your feet and cross your arms.

“No.” The gun is raised to your head, and you want to flinch back in terror but restrain yourself. 

“Get in.” 

“No.” How your voice wasn’t breaking was a question in and of itself, but Johnny had always said you were stubborn like him. Best time to prove him right was with a barrel to your face, apparently.

The stranger’s eyes light with anger, hands clenching over the body of the weapon as the rest of his men stare on in shock. A growl meets air.

“I’m not asking for a third time, Sweetheart—” One loud boom later and you’re ducking down with your hands over your head, ears ringing and body unsteady; a great weight hits the ground right next to you.

The sound of gunfire rattles the world all around the once quiet street, and you think that you and your Lover will have to move after this. No way the neighbors could let all this slide. Looking up, your eyes jump from the corpse spasming near you to the running men, chaos breeding in the lines between shouts and dropping bodies. 

A hand latches into your waist, and you’re being lifted into strong arms moments later. Squealing, your head snaps to the size and meets cerulean blue inlaid in a strong brow line. 

“I’ve got ya.” Your body loses all tension at the accent that you would know anywhere, even in death, a strong grip picking you up and keeping you close to his broad chest. 

Johnny carries you away in the midst of battle as the rest of the 141 get involved, making quick work of the remaining men. Breathing in his scent, you force your face under his chin, feeling the stubble scrape as your fingers dig into flesh. 

He’s here. He’s—he’s right here.

“Don’t worry, Dearie, I’m right here. It’s nearly over, now.” You try to bring him closer as he takes cover behind a wall, pressing his shoulders against the grating stone as he shields you closer to him. Sliding down to the ground.

His eyes snap back and forth, heart rapid. God, he was nearly too late. Johnny presses his nose into your hair as he breathes deeply, watching bodies fall and feeling you shake. Feeling you shiver; now finally able to let everything sink in. 

“Shh,” the Scot mutters, pressing you closer as you whisper his name in a hoarse breath. “You’re alright. I’m ‘ere, Bonnie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands filter over your skin, checking for injuries and feeling over growing bumps from under-the-skin abrasions.

His teeth clench together in hate, hotheadedness taking over for a moment as part of him wants to rush out and pick a few of these bastards off himself. But it’s just not that simple. 

Looking out into the street with serious eyes, the radio attached to his vest sounds off as the last of the firefight ends almost as quickly as it began. 

“Clear.” It was Price. “How is she?” 

Johnny sighs, looking down at you in his hold as he whispers comforting words in quick succession.

“Shaken, but alright…” The reply is muttered as you sniffle, your fingers going to wipe away tears. “She’s—she’s alright.”

Johnny beats you to it as he tries to calm down, large digits tilting your head to the side and studying intently as he swipes them away with a firm thumb and a careful frown. 

“Johnny—” Your eyes stay locked on him as the Scot gets rid of any trace of fear or sadness, calluses burning your skin just as they always did. His gaze flickers to you; lips pulling tight. None of you choose to move, too content with being this close to one another and safe, even if the situation was serious. “I…”

You trail, not even knowing what to say as the wetness of your eyes blurs your vision, body hot, and the back of your skull aching. Your hands go to cup his cheeks. It’s all the words he needs. 

Eyes soft, the Sergeant attempts a weak and worried smile. “I’m so proud of you, Dearie, y’know that? So damn proud.” Your lips quirk, a strained laugh echoing out. A finger pokes the side of your nose. “Hey, I’m serious now. Stop your foolin'.” 

Johnny’s fingers run deep circles into your temples as you trace the lines of his cheeks. 

“Shut up.” You huff, straining against a wide smile. It was easy to push all of this behind you when you were looking at him. He made everything better.

“Hm,” He moves forward and presses his lips to your forehead, quickly going to lay kisses all over your face until giggles spill out from the alleyway to the waiting three. 

Gaz smiles to himself, Price grunts lightly, and Ghost gazes off. 

“I’ll just have to prove to my Bonnie Little Lady that she’s a prime piece of work, then, eh? Smarter; more quick than a fuckin’ recon team,” he leans close and you have to try and shove him away playfully when he starts to squish you against him. Your laughter grows as his scratchy chin nuzzles your neck. “And don’t mind me sayin’ now, but a proper fine pair of tits and arse to go along with the brains of ya, Dearie.”

“MacTavish!” you squeal, “I should call your mother up and explain how you speak to me—that’s vulgar! I know for a fact she didn’t teach you that.”

“Teach me? Oh, now, then, no one could teach me a thing when you’re around. Cannae think a bit; better off talkin’ to a pile of stone.” You punch his solid chest and laugh so hard your face hurts, breath fanning against his neck as his roaming praise continues as if his mind was a bag of water punctured by a knife. “I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout you, my Little Bonnie.” 

The last sentence is quietly muttered into your temple, a kiss pressed tight. He pulls back slightly and feels at the dried blood on your locks, fingers separating to find the scalp. Johnny’s chest rattles in a sigh, hand shaking slightly when he sees it. 

He’d also seen the body on the window sill, though he knows not to mention it.

Christ, you’d had to kill someone. 

The prospect of taking a life was easy to the Scot—some days he felt like he had been born and bred to do just that. It became simple. Elementary. Like his mother could memorize a recipe, he could memorize the position of arteries; what shot to take at that instant, and which to wait on based only on past missions that resonated like past lives.

But for you…

Oh, it was never supposed to happen to you.

“Are you alright?” Johnny breaths, humor gone and left with guilt. 

He feels your lips on his raging pulse and lets his eyes close, content to feel you move against him as your head remains in his neck. Shifting his body into a more comfortable position, he cages you in protectively. Never again would he allow this to happen.

“I shot someone.” The man’s lips quivered, heart hurting at the blatant shock in your voice. It hadn’t hit you yet, and, hell, Johnny still remembered his first kill like it was yesterday. It wouldn’t be good when all this calmed down. He’d thrown up for two days straight, himself.

“Aye.” He breathes.

“His blood’s all over the house.”

“It is.”

“Is…is that,” you’re shivering, so he massages your spine soothingly until you find the words. “Is that a good thing?” 

He should say no, tell you that the situation that you’d been put in was never supposed to happen and it was just an unfortunate reality. Death wasn’t a good thing, per se. But the man had broken into your shared home—busted down the bedroom door with the intent of using you as a bargaining chip to get to him. So, to the Scot, the answer is clear.

No one messed with his family and lived.

“Yes.” Taking down the air of a dusty alleyway as sirens wail a street over, you weren't surprised that your boyfriend had managed to get to your home far faster than the police could. He said he always would, didn’t he? 

The bills for the speeding tickets and the running of red lights were going to be atrocious.

“Okay.” Your answer is muttered as you peel back, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s lips. You believed him. Always would. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His bright teeth show off a smile as your mirror. He kisses you heavily on the lips. Whispers against your lips, a promise. A vow. “As long as you put up with me, I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Soap,” Price yells, snapping the two of you out of it. “Get on with it!” 

The Scot raises a shocked brow and smirks down at you as you tilt your head and listen in happy confusion. 

“Y’know, those shots weren't half bad back there. ‘Specially after takin’ a tumble into the flowers.” Your expression freezes in denial as you’re lifted bridal style into the air. Speaking over the calls of police and firemen as they come to the scene, your voice monotones as your legs swing.

“...I missed two out of the three, you dork. That’s failing.” Johnny gapes in mock surprise and you refrain from snorting at the boyish glint in his eyes.

“Jesus, is it really? Hell, you’ll be comin’ for my job in no time, won’t ya? That’s one better than me!” 

You kiss him and feel the grunt through your lips.

TAGS ||

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[phefics]

unconventional

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: a tickle fight with billy and stu takes a turn when the boys realize how much they like hearing the reader beg. warnings: dubious consent, degrading names (slut), tickling word count: 1.6k

It’s an unconventional arrangement, dating two boys at once. You certainly hadn’t befriended Billy Loomis and Stu Macher with the intention of falling for either of them, let alone both.

But, shit happens, especially when your two best friends are attractive and fucking inseparable. Dating one of them would end up as a package deal, anyway. 

Kids at school couldn’t quite figure you out. One day, you’d be seen getting carried bridal-style by Stu, the next, you’d be holding hands with Billy. Some people thought you were a cheater, some thought you were a beard to hide a gay love affair.

None of you gave a shit what anyone thought.

Your parents weren’t home, and you had invited the boys over for a movie night. Stu had arrived first, because he lived closer, and although Billy got there only a few minutes later, he walked in on an interesting scene.

You had left the front door unlocked, and as he walked inside, he heard shrieking coming from the living room. He panicked for a moment, thinking Stu had broken the ‘Don’t Kill Y/N’ rule, but as he tiptoed into the room, all he found was Stu straddling your thighs, tickling you.

He couldn’t help but grin at the sight. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

You and Stu both jumped at his voice, so caught up in the moment that you had forgotten he was on his way.

“Billy, help!” you cried, still giggling like mad as Stu’s fingers slipped beneath your sweater, scribbling over the skin of your stomach.

“Help? Sure, I’ll help,” Billy said, giving Stu a smirk as he approached, kneeling down on the floor beside you.

He easily grabbed your flailing wrists and pulled your arms up, pinning them over your head.

“Can’t smack me anymore, hm?” Stu teased. “Thanks, Billy, I was startin’ to fear for my life there.”

“No problem. We couldn’t let that pretty face get bruised, could we?”

While you agreed that Stu had a pretty face, you wanted nothing more than to punch him in it as his fingers creeped higher, tickling your underarms with a newfound vigor, now that you were helpless to stop him.

Your laugh grew in volume, in intensity. “You fuckers,” you gasped out, kicking your legs wildly. “I’m gonna kill you both, cut it out!”

Billy let out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting over your ear. Stu, meanwhile, giggled along with you, clearly pleased with himself for starting this whole thing.

“You want us to stop?” Billy asked. “Cause it seems like you’re having fun…”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smiling like crazy,” Stu added. “Why would we stop makin’ you smile, baby?”

"Besides, we're certainly having fun."

You whined as his fingers slowed to a torturous, feather-light touch, just ghosting against your skin. “You guys suck,” you said, breathless.

Billy hummed. “Really? We suck? That’s not very nice, Y/N. Stu, I think we need to teach her some manners.”

“I agree.”

And with that, Stu’s hands began tickling you again, dancing over your entire torso, never lingering in one spot for too long. Billy adjusted his grip on your wrists so that he was only holding them with one hand, using the other to flutter over the side of your neck, making you scrunch up your shoulders uselessly.

This was awful. It was torture. But…There was something exciting about it, too. Being held down like this, helpless and pliant beneath their touches as they exploited your weak spots…Stu’s hands brushed against your chest as he went, and you weren’t wearing a bra, and you felt your nipples grow hard at the quick, barely-there contact.

“You gonna apologize to us?” Billy asked.

You shook your head. You had nothing to apologize for. They did suck, you were just telling the truth.

“Always so fuckin’ stubborn,” he sighed, before using his free hand to tickle your armpit, making you squeal.

“Maybe she’s not giving up because she likes it,” Stu said. “She’s such a slut, I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns her on.”

If the tickling itself wasn’t hot, those words certainly were. You felt your pussy throb when you were called that, felt a thrill up your spine.

Billy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. “How about we make a new deal, Y/N? Stu’s gonna pull your pants down, and if you aren't wet right now, we’ll stop. But if you are, well…Maybe we’ll take the rest of your clothes off and keep going.”

The fingers stopped, finally giving you a chance to fully catch your breath. Your skin buzzed with the phantom sensation, your head spun from their teasing words. But most of all, you knew for a fact that you were wet, and your heart pounded in your chest at the realization.

Stu gave you a mischievous grin before getting off your legs and grabbing the waist of your sweatpants, yanking them down to your knees with no preamble, and cupping his fingers over your mound, pressing against your folds through your panties, feeling the obvious dampness that only made his grin grow larger, more devilish.

“You were right,” he said. “Little slut’s getting off on this.”

You opened your mouth and shut it again. What were you supposed to say? Deny the obvious? Attempt to elaborate that it wasn’t really the tickling, it was everything combined? Would that really save your dignity?

Billy laughed. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You let out a soft whimper as Stu’s fingers rubbed against your pussy, trying to buck your hips to gather more friction.

“So needy,” Stu muttered, almost to himself.

Billy released your wrists and made quick work of pulling your hoodie over your head, the cold air making goosebumps rise on your bare skin. Your nipples hardened even more, and you grew even more aroused as you were stripped.

Stu pulled your pants down the rest of the way, and your underwear, too, leaving you naked on the carpet and blushing like mad.

“Ready for round two, baby?”

You shook your head, squirming wildly as they caged you in between their bodies. “Please, I—”

They didn’t let you finish. If you really wanted them to stop, you knew what to say, and you hadn’t, so they had no reason for showing mercy.

Stu began squeezing up and down your thighs, occasionally scratching behind your knees as well, while Billy dug into your ribs.

The combined sensations made you burst into laughter, slightly hoarse with how loud you’d been the entire time. You thrashed, but they easily dodged your flying limbs and kept tickling.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Billy cooed.

“Fucking adorable,” Stu agreed.

You wailed as Stu ran his fingers over the sole of your foot, toes curling in an attempt to block the feeling, but it did nothing to provide any relief.

“Please,” you managed to say. “I can’t take it anymore, stop it!”

To your surprise, they did. Your begging usually only turned them on more, and you doubted they were truly going to stop.

Stu positioned himself between your thighs, pushing them apart so he could bring his face to your pussy, looking up at you with those sweet blue eyes.

Billy’s hands came to grab your breasts, and you moaned softly as his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

Stu licked at your entrance teasingly before beginning to eat you out, holding your hips and easily finding your clit with his tongue.

Your head lolled back into Billy’s lap, legs spreading even wider to give Stu better access to your aching clit.

All the rough-housing, the name-calling, the teasing had gotten you so worked up, and they were finally going to give you some relief.

Or, so you thought.

Slowly, Billy’s touch became light and ticklish again, blunt fingernails tracing along the curve of your tits, up to your collarbones, down to your sides. You squirmed and laughed softly, trying to ignore it and focus on the pleasure Stu’s tongue was bringing you, but that bastard had also begun to wiggle his fingers against your hips, all while focusing the rest of his attention on your clit, causing a mixture of moans and giggles to spill from your lips.

“So pretty,” Billy murmured. “So sensitive, too. But you take it like the good girl you are, hm? You’ll take whatever we dish out, won’t you, slut?”

“Yes,” you reply, your speech slightly slurred.

“You gonna cum for us like this? Fuckin’ helpless, fuckin’ adorable…”

You whined as Stu’s mouth brought you closer to climax, and Billy’s words were certainly helping. “Yes,” you said again. “Please, make me cum…”

You felt Stu chuckle against you, the heat of his breath making you twitch.

Their fingers were still tickling, in that maddening sort of itch that made you want to crawl out of your skin more than it made you want to laugh. It kept your entire nervous system alert, buzzing like electricity as you drew closer and closer to orgasm.

“That’s our girl,” Billy said. “Begging like a good slut. You can cum baby, cum for us.”

His words were all you needed to be pushed off the edge, legs shaking as you came with a cry of pleasure.

Stu popped up from between your thighs, all wild-eyed and adorable, like he was so proud to have given you that orgasm. His lips were shining with your wetness, and Billy leaned over you to kiss it off for him.

As your boyfriends kissed, you flopped back against the carpet, breathless and spent. Your skin still tingled and you felt high off of adrenaline.

“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up, huh?” Stu said, gesturing at the sticky mess on your thighs.

You blushed. “My shower is not big enough for the three of us,” you said.

“But we could run you a bath,” Billy suggested. “And you could watch us have a little fun…You got us so fuckin’ hard.”

You could see both of their cocks straining in their pants, and grinned. “That sounds like a plan.”

An unconventional relationship, an unconventional sex life…You couldn’t care less if it was strange. It was fucking perfect.