#barking at the wall like a feral dog

[doublesidedgemini]

tw: suicide + me being crazy irrational about heart break lmfao

This is a massively long post also warning lol I’m like kinda manic :)

DISCLAIMER: I 100% know that it is domestic violence to message someone and threaten bodily harm or suicide to guilt them into staying with you. Please know I have messaged this person from my past (not the one i am messaging in the screenshots) that I am incredibly hurt BUT HAVE NOT expressed intent to hurt myself to him. The above messages are just my crazy thoughts expressed to someone where we mutually vent about our mental to each other.

Can I just say though, “I hope it grows a pit in his stomach that swallows him” goes fucking hard.

Anyway. This person I’m talking about. The one I’ve been posting about. Like I’ve been saying. Out of everyone in the world I can’t believe he would just up and abandon me. He’s watched me get torn apart by previous relationships and he’s told me how much it hurts to watch me go through that

So to know he saw my hurt and he supported me and comforted me through those times and promised me better and told me better and started showing me better only to snatch it away after just a few weeks with no fucking warning — it just hurts. So much. Fucking. Worse.

And after everything every other man has put me through in my life oh my GOD let me just say Teeth and Jennifer’s Body will always have a special place in my heart. I wish I was them. If men are going to crave and lust after my body and be willing to defile and torture and kill me to get it then let me use this as the siren call to lure them and open my rib cage like a gaping maw and devour them whole.

I can’t help but want to inflict the same pain on him. Abandonment is a huge fucking trigger for me and he was supposed to be my safe person but the thought of dropping my BMI until my heart gives out and he doesn’t find out until afterwards and checks his messages and sees I died wounded and hurting and bloodied by his hand but hating him bitterly with the rage of the trauma that has cemented in my bones I hope it fucking rots him slowly over the years until he has this huge heavy unresolved guilt he can’t get rid that coats him and everything in his life like a toxic sludge

I don’t want him to die. I want him to live. Clearly, I’m crazy and maybe finding a better woman is a better choice for him. Sure, he can be happy. But I hope my torment lifts from my body when I die and haunts him like a fucking ghost :)

Also I just want to say if he had just had the balls to have a conversation with me and tell me he was choosing not to pursue things further INSTEAD OF TELLING ME THE OPPOSITE AND BLOCKING ME JUST A FEW DAYS LATER I would not be feeling this strongly. In fact, if he had just been honest and upfront with me I could still even see myself being friends with him once I let the initial hurt fade. BUT TO JUST ABANDON ME BRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO the fucking wound this gives me

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omega verse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, double-pen, gangbang kinda, tag-team

♡ fem reader

It’s been a month since your new owner brought you home, and despite expectations, you’ve yet to be eaten by the predators you share your den with. On the contrary, the six hybrids seem to have accepted you as their seventh pack member despite you being at the very bottom of the food chain.

You’ve come to trust that, despite the look of hunger in their eyes… food isn’t exactly what they have in mind. 

The hyena seems to be the only one your age. But he’s also a bit of a bully. Always goading you with ticklish poking until you stomp your feet and whine at him to stop. 

He never listens to you, though – he just cocks his head, finding it funny how you try giving him orders – only grinning as he pins you instead, chewing some on the lops of your ears while squeezing your cottontail – smirking and giggling at your pouty face getting all frustrated.

Your weak kicking is so cute, and so is how you try clawing at him despite having but blunt nails – he can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles him. 

It’s so painstakingly clear you’re not made to fight back, and it’s so adorable how you don’t even realize you already surrendered the moment you rolled over on your back with your belly up. 

It makes him go absolutely feral when you pull on his ears and mane, begging him to stop as he laves at your slit and clit, delving his long tongue deep within your walls until the tip prods your womb. It’s course against your skin and harsh on your insides and scratches your poor clit until it’s all swollen and throbbing for him – making you sob as his feral smile teases your chubby mound with a bite – only satisfied when you cum in his mouth.

But while the hyena enjoys play-fighting with you, the rest are more prone to fight each other…

The panther and leopard are good friends, whilst the fox and wolf seem to tolerate each other – and you don’t know whether it’s unfortunate or a blessing in disguise that both pairs only want you for themselves and often end up fighting over you.

You’d say the four are the most trigger-happy of the pack – always hissing and barking at each other. But everyone knows that cats and dogs don’t get along.

The canines are a little scarier, you think. They’re rougher with you.

The wolf especially. He’s older than you, a big heap of hulking muscles that bear down over you with the daunting superiority of a seasoned hunter. 

He doesn’t take lightly to you talking back to him – acting as though he’s actually offended when you so much as open your mouth if it’s not to swallow his tongue. Even if all you ask is for him to go a little slower, he’ll just growl at you – threatening your neck with fangs while chewing your collar – and otherwise ignore your cry completely. Calling you his bitch while telling you to quit your whimpering even though he’s been breeding you sore for the past hour, ramming your poor cunt so hard your muscles have all given out and left you to lie on the floor with only his paws keeping your hips upright.

He's always extra rough when you reek of cat – as though it’s your fault. Huffing and puffing as he now has to spend so much effort scenting you again.

It’s a never-ending war between them all. You go from camp to camp, getting marked again and again like territory, only for your owner to clean you up at the end of the day.

But the wolf is the worst. One time he’d gone so far as to piss on you… 

But he was later scolded by the owner – bonking his head with a rolled-up newspaper, telling him he had to learn to share or else he’d have to go sleep out in the doghouse. He’d also been told he had to stop breaking skin when biting you unless he wanted to be muzzled.

It only made him all the more grumpier. Growling in your ear that the one who ought to be muzzled is you and your snitch-mouth always crying wolf like some bitch who never learns her place – that next time you go talking to the owner, he’s going to eat you like the piece of meat you are.

You come to learn that he’s more bark than bite after a while. 

When you get used to him and his stamina, you stop crying and start holding onto him instead. And it’s when you’re burying your face in his neck and begging for his seed that he softens up for you.

He stops biting and starts sucking instead – laying hickeys all over your neck and chest, blushing with closed eyes when suckling your tits like a pup. You learn he’s a sucker for being called good boy and will wag his tail when you sit on his face. 

He’s also the one with the most owner-sickness of the pack, always clinging to you, growling when others get close, and never ever sharing when his turn.

He only begrudgingly allows the fox to eat his scraps afterward. 

You can only mew as he mounts you next. 

His tempo is always a bit of a shock – a bit juvenile, but who can blame him when he’s had to wait for so long? He’s a little younger than you – eager and desperate for it every single time.

Pounding you sharply – hard and fast with howls and heavy panting – even whimpering as you hold you tighter and tighter, squeezing you free of air as he savors the feel of your wet pussy clamping down around him.

He doesn’t growl too much when you whine. Instead, he laughs – elated and frenzied – eyes manic as he sticks his tongue as far down your throat as he can – drooling uncontrollably as he sinks his knot inside you and spills his worth inside your womb.

It’s a relief he doesn’t last as long as his bigger partner.

He’ll suck love-bites on the chubs of your cheeks as he unswells – lick all the sweat from your skin and come down by the sweet taste. Laying sloppy kisses all over your body and lapping over all bruises and soreness in gratitude – looking at you somewhat sheepishly with big puppy-dog eyes as though suddenly embarrassed that he’d been so feral.

The felines are less spastic. 

But they also like to lick you – with sand-textured tongues scraping at your fur and skin until they’ve made sure you’re coated with their scent. They seem to enjoy grooming more than anything, always snuggling with you.

But they get flirty, too… you’ll know when they start kneading your softer parts – blinking at you slow and expectantly until you return the favor.

They’re the same age and have known each other all their life, practically brothers, and do everything together as though they were a pair of Siamese – including when they mate with you. 

They’ll lay you down on one lean chest while the other is poised above you. Purring as they take turns with you – both so gently.

The panther always has a sly smile on his face when looking down at you – his claws retracted while he sticks his slender fingers inside your mouth to play with your tongue. He says it’s one of his favorite things about you – so soft and so silky, so different from theirs when you lick his skin.

It makes the leopard pout behind you, nuzzling you tight, his cheek to your cheek, asking the other if he doesn’t like it when he grooms him. 

The panther only smiles down at both of you, promising that he likes both your tongues until he proceeds to swap between which one of you he kisses.

When the leopard kisses you, he also admits he likes your tongue – whispering all depraved things that come to mind – loves how smooth it feels in his mouth and on his lips and neck and nipples and cock and balls.

Eventually, the heat gets to their heads, and their pointy ears start to droop, looking at you with such dark glossy eyes, opium-blown with pleasure and lust for more – kissing each side of your face, asking whether you won’t allow them both inside you at the same time – their pretty pleas making your head go silly, panting while nodding your head for them, bucking your hips stuck between the two while begging for both of them.

You feel their slim tails coil around each of your thighs as they sink inside your drooling heat together – their breaths deep and shuddering while they feel your tightness squeeze around them. 

They coo at you – telling you how perfect you look trapped between them like that – as their pretty little double-stuffed toy. And you’re too cock-drunk to do anything but agree.

After flooding you with cum, they go back to cuddling – sleeping – the both of them purring with lanky limbs all tangled on top of each other and you in the middle.

The bear is also a lazy fellow – a gentle giant. Something you’re grateful for – you don’t think you’d survive if he ever tried mounting and pounding you like the other boys.

He’s the eldest of the pack. Twice your age. You feel the seniority in his movements – all unhurried, savoring every second with a warm smile.

He’s satisfied with having you on his lap – cock-warmed by your tight bunny-cunt while you hand-feed him berries. You feel a little safer with him knowing you have the same appetite and that he isn’t thinking about eating you. 

He hums, a rusty sound that comes from his gut – telling you he likes seeing you eat – that it’s cute how you take such small bites – and the way your nose scrunches and your cheeks fill.

Sometimes he’ll tell you to hop on his lap – his massive warm paws placed on your haunches with large black claws gently denting the plush flesh found there, encouraging you as you ease up and down the great length that bulges from your belly. 

The size of it makes you pant.

You’re glad he’s happy having you at the end of the day – after you’ve been loosened up by the others. You fear he’d split you in two if otherwise.

The owner collects you before bedtime after everyone’s had their share – clips a leash onto your collar, and leads you to the bathroom – crawling on all four like an actual animal. You’ll often collapse halfway there, but he doesn’t mind scooping you up to carry you instead – always with a few patronizing words leaving him while mollycoddling you, almost speaking baby to you, telling you how proud he is of how domesticated you’ve become.

There’s always a bath waiting for you – a gift for being such a good little pet, he says. 

It reminds you of when you were first brought here, as he washes you with his own hands – rubbing the filth of spit, cum, and sweat from your sore limbs, messaging your flesh into nice limber softness again.

He’s always mumbling about human matters under his breath – money, business, estate – ruffling your hair when you give him a blank stare. Apologizing while saying he won’t trouble your pretty head with such complicated topics.

All you have to worry about is being his stress-relief – something clueless and dumb and dependent on him. You realize that without him needing to say it. It’s communicated through all the other things he says anyway.

He’s always whispering in your ear before bed – sweet nothings about what a good bunny you are – how you’re the cutest, softest, sweetest little thing in the entire world – telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is that you’re finally settling in – how you’ve become the most precious little housebroken pet for him.

It feels different when he touches you. The other hybrids make you feel small, but there’s a familiarity with them – something about being hunted fairly and squarely, like out in the wild. 

With the owner, you’re reminded you’re a pet eating out of his palm – something tame warming his bed at night with your leash tied to the bed frame.

He doesn’t fuck you with the same intent as the others do – there’s no rut behind his cold movements. It’s not mating or breeding. It’s something else you can’t put your finger on. Something human. Something alien to you.

Something in the way he has his hand fisting your leash as he sinks inside your heat – something in how he babies you, calls you cute when you shake and cum around his cock like you can’t control yourself.

It all makes you feel like some mindless animal.

Impulsive and primitive in comparison to him and his calculated thrusts and how he only cums inside you after you’ve all but begged him to breed you.

♡ part 1

Owner: ♡ BNHA - Aizawa, AFO ♡ JJK - Nanami, Kenjaku ♡ HQ - Ukai Hyena: ♡ BNHA- Shigaraki ♡ JJK- Mahito ♡ HQ - Tendou Wolf: ♡ BNHA - Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK- Sukuna, Naoya ♡ HQ - Sakusa Fox: ♡ BNHA - Denki, Kirishima, Deku, Amajiki ♡ JJK- Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ - Hinata, Nishinoya Leopard & Panther: ♡ BNHA - Denki & Shinso, Dabi & Hawks ♡ JJK - Geto & Gojo ♡ HQ - Miya twins, Oikawa & Kageyama, Kuro & Kenma Bear: ♡ BNHA - Enji, Aizawa, All Might, Mirio ♡ JJK- Toji, Nanami, Higuruma ♡ HQ - Daichi, Ushijima

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Calling Them Submissive and Breedable

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Implied Dominant Reader, Implied Submissive Reader, Some Submissive MW2 Characters, Some Dominant MW2 Characters, No Pronouns used for Reader Except for ‘You’, Gendered Spanish Terms of Endearment (Fem-Leaning), Petnames, etc.

Ghost

“Careful, Darlin’,” he says, slowly, lowly, almost hushed. He has you backed against the counter, his hands flat atop it, thick, bulging arms caging you.

He presses his front against yours, his bulge catching you in just the right place.

“Pretty little mouth like that’ll send a man wild.” His breath is hot against your lips, with his just shy of yours. Ready to silence.

“And I won’t be held responsible for what happens when I lose control.”

König

“My, my,” he says, his voice heavy, eyes half-lidded. All the while, he’s approaching you, slowly.

“My little maus is being rather brave today, aren’t you?” He’s condescending. Deceptively so.

With a growl, he pounces, wrestling you down onto the bed, his weight both an unstoppable force and an immovable object as he bunches your hands in one of his, his other at the base of your throat. A warning. He grinds against you, his panting breath quivering at the friction. All the while he’s making dead eye contact with you.

He brings his mouth down beside your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “There won’t be an inch left of you that isn’t mine by the time I’m through with you.”

Soap

“Don’t tempt me, Dolly,” he whines, giving you a pleading look.

When you continue to tease him, to mess with the bull, he gives you his horns.

He pins your arms above your head, a rabid tint in his eye. Feral.

“I warned you,” he breathes, his grip tightening. “Whatever happens now is on your head.” His tone is as serious as death. “And my terms.”

Valeria

She won’t give you the chance to even finish the sentence before she has you pinned against a wall, her chest to your back and a hand around your throat.

“Don’t fuck with me, Querida,” she says, her voice low and hissing. You can feel the darkness settling over her eyes, feel the simmering, bubbling concoction of lust and rage overflow in the way she rocks her hips into the back of yours.

“Because you know I’ll fuck you twice as hard.”

Needless to say, she’s not letting you go until you are perfectly aware that it is you who is the submissive one in this relationship.

Price

“Is that so, Love?” Price’s voice carries, aromatic. His eyes crease and trail your silhouette as he hands you a smile. Throws you a bone. Gives you a chance.

His arms are folded over his chest, the image of strength, resilience, and resolve.

“You sure you don’t wanna take that back?” he says, voice lowering. His head tilts, and his smile begins to retract into a smirk. There’s a hunger to his demeanour. His voice husks.

“Before I make you.”

Horangi

Initially flabbergasted. Then, abashed. Though, he doesn’t want you to know that.

“Negative. A baseless accusation.” He says, humourless. Though, that is his effort to try and hold back the storm, to fortify the floodgates. To keep the excitement in his chest from boiling over.

He stands toe to toe with you, his eyes sharp, dark and unwavering. A look of reproach, though he was from far above it with the thoughts racing through his mind right now.

“And I’d suggest you keep them to yourself,” his hand slithers up your side, takes your shoulder, mock reassurance in his grip. “Before someone decides to punish you for your transgressions.”

Alejandro

“Oh?” His tone is playful as he turns to face you, leaning against the countertop, his arms folded and his smile a signature upon his face.

“Well, then, you’ll have to come and dominate me.” His grin is a disguise. “Only, of course,” he pushes off, walking towards you, intent in his gait. He’s before you now, his chest touching yours. “If you can get me to behave.”

His hand wraps around your hip and squeezes you. His smile is sly. “Else, you’re just a dog whose bark is bigger than its bite.”

“And I can assure you,” his other hand slides around your shoulders, pulls you closer. “That my bite is bigger.”

Rodolfo

“I have no doubt about it, Mi Amor,” he tells you, still carefully crafting you the sandwich you requested. When finished, he passes you the creation, the lack of double-sidedness to his words reassuring. Or inviting. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Little did you know that beneath his butterscotch exterior lay the heart of a lovingly maniacal masochist who, after your little conversation, took to trying to poke the bear, to feed the lion between the bars of the cage.

And you repaid him in kind by giving in to his trap and straddling him, late into the evening, pinning his arms above his head, making vibrant conversation of the obscenities you were going to perform on him.

And he didn’t resist once, instead soaking up every ounce of love you had to give.

Graves

“Sure thing, Doll Face,” he says, blasé. Dismissive. He doesn’t even turn to face you, instead making a mild hand gesture, looking down at his documents.

“Though, let’s be honest,” he flips through his papers. “There’s nothing I can’t make you do for the right sum.” The tinge in his voice is equally as void as before, as if he were stating a fact.

Graves’ fetish for finance (and its many persuasive effects) did little to protect him from your wrath.

And you told him as much – that “No amount can save you now,” before wrecking him.

Truer words were never spoken; especially now as he sat at his desk, his body and pride sore after the fact. Though, he can’t help but crack a smile at the memory. Perhaps he’ll invoke your dominant side more often…

Gaz

“Oh, really?” he says, almost challengingly. He hands you a skeptical look, smiling all the while. Practically chuckling.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Regardless of how capable Gaz is in physical training, he truly is powerless against your advances. That much is proven when he’s pinned beneath you, breathless and whining and clawing at your thighs.

He never challenged you again after that... Well, except when he wanted to.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[head-empty-just-ace]

MDNI: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This was originally meant to just be a singular post on Ace and the Monster Trio having dog ears and a tail along with dog-like tendencies, but it started to become very...long. So, I will now be giving each one their own post! Ofc, we start off with Ace. Were you expecting anything else from me?

Portgas D. Ace x AFAB!Reader

CW: Sexual content (mentions of oral, penetration, and overstimulation), established relationship, and sensory overload/overwhelmed

Word Count: 700+

The ship was docked on an island for a while. Just meant for a quick supply run since it was running low and the next island was much further ahead. You're now tasked to go around the town to procure the items needed with them. However, you stumble across a certain shop. One thing led to another and now— your company has drunken a certain potion that made dog ears and a fluffy tail appear on them!

Of course, the shop owner clarifies that it's only temporary and that it'll fade off in a month or so. He also mentioned something about dog-like tendencies??

SFW

Extreme mood swings. Hyper-active, territorial, playful, clingy— you name it.

He will be running around on the deck one second then growling at someone who comes close to his food or you. If you scold him, he'll immediately sulk (even if you did it because he was making a mess on the deck for chasing after a bird).

Uses training and sparring sessions to burn off excess energy. It helps a lot. Plus, he adores the enhanced senses and reflexes during fights as an advantage. Will definitely brag about it.

Will sleep gods know where on the ship. He'll take a nap by the crates on the deck. Maybe even curl up in your bed if you guys have separate rooms.

Lucky for you, he doesn't snore loudly anymore! He just howls at the moon.

Did I mention clingy? He'll follow your scent, wrap his arms around your waist, and bury his face into the curve of your neck. Shamelessly inhaling your scent and mumbling how good you smell.

His hat bothers his ears so you're now in charge to keep it safe for him most of the time (totally not because it reminds him that you're his and that you look hot in it).

Whenever his senses get overwhelmed from all the noises, scents, and sights on the ship— he'll drag you somewhere more quiet and private. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you close. Will bury his face against your chest to hear your heartbeat to help him relax.

Oh, does he melt when you scratch his ears and pet him. A shit eating grin on his face while his tail wags excitedly behind him. He accidentally barked when you started praising him too.

You jokingly threw a ball to watch his reaction. He chased after it and gave it back to you with his tail wagging excitedly before snapping out of it and sulking at you (just bribe him with kisses and food)

That tail? Sensitive. Extremely so. Do with that what you will.

NSFW

Did the shop owner tell you about him possibly going into heat? No? Well, he's now dragging you to his quarters with a slightly feral look on his face.

Door's locked. Your back against the wall. He's pressing kisses all over your face, asking—begging for permission. That if you're not comfortable with it, he'll stop.

You said yes? He'll pay for the clothes he tore off you (he growled at the sight of you in front of him and you found it unsurprisingly hot).

Will eat you out like it's the only thing keeping him alive. Slurs out praises while making a mess out of your sweet pussy. He'll literally moan and whine louder than you. All the while, his tail swishes contentedly behind him.

That tail. You started playing with it? While his cock was deep inside your throat? He's losing it. Whines loud enough the whole ship knows what's going on. Immediately cums inside your mouth.

He tried being sweet and keep a slow and relaxed pace. But when you were crying out that you wanted it rough— he wouldn't even think of denying you what you asked for.

Don't expect you're walking the day— or week after. That headboard is bound to at least crack. His stamina is already insane on a regular basis. What did you expect with him in heat?

Hickeys and bite marks all over. If you left some on him, he adores it. Eyes closed shut while he's pounding into you.

Will bend you every which way he sees fit. But he loves it most when he can see your face. Taking pride in the fact that he's the one making you look so well-fucked and needy.

By the end of it, both of you are overstimulated messes. You're a blabbering and crying mess while he's still fucking you with his head buried against your neck bc 'he can't stop himself when you just feel too good'.

He'll pass out immediately right after he cums for the last time. But will shower you with every bit of love and affection you deserve come morning. Massages, favorite snacks, praises, kisses— the whole package.

~~~~~

If you liked this and wanna read more, here's my masterlist!

[poetryandfluffycats]

helloooo may i ask for afab!reader degrading and pegging keito if it’s possible? maybe him whimpering too… have a great day!

A/N: i bark like a feral dog every time I get a keito request AF AF AF AF WOOF WOOF. anyway, enjoy

Pairing: Keito Hasumi x fem!reader

Content: You've been wanting to try some new things out in the bedroom, but Keito isn't one to stray away from what he believes is 'normal'. So, you come up with a brilliant plan to convince him.

Warnings: NSFW, pegging, degrading from both sides, spanking/ass slapping, handjobs, one use of the petname daddy, use of slut & whore, teasing

Words: 1.5k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

You want it?~

"You must be joking"

The green haired man who once laid relaxed on the bed now sat upright, face as red as a strawberry and hands clenching the bedsheets as if they might fly away from underneath him. A simple ask, and he had become a horrible blushing mess. God knows how he'd be during the actual act of what you were suggesting, it made your core tingle with delight.

"You think I'd lie?" You feigned sadness by sticking out your bottom lip as much as humanly possible, batting your freshly applied eyelashes at him. The perfect image of innocence. "You're very mean, Keito"

A groan left his lips, eyes darting backwards and forth from his feet to wall, like he was trying to look anywhere but your body, the racy set of lingerie you wore, and the leather strap-on and dildo held in your hand. "And I apologise for that, however, this.. thing... you have asked of me, its simply inappropriate! You cannot expect me to indulge in these silly ideas of yours"

You would have rolled your eyes if you weren't trying to keep up the image of someone innocence and sweet. Keito was clearly trying to convince himself he didn't want it just as much as he was trying to convince you he didn't, his face said it all. Flushed cheeks, fidgety hands, the faint budge growing visible through the confinements of his pants-something that he shamefully tried to hide by crossing his legs.

It was a challenge, one you were more than willing to accept.

"So you're telling me, I could strip myself naked right now, climb into your lap and ride your cock and drain your balls so much it looks like you've pissed yourself, and you wouldn't have an issue with that" You lifted the strap into the air, waving it around a few times. "But this is too scary for you?"

"Get out of that stupid outfit and put your clothes back on, (name). Now" Keito scolded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he finally made eye contact with you. "If you don't listen to me I swear I'll-"

You cut him off by jumping onto the bed, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, biting open mouthed kisses into his collar bone. "Don't go all Daddy on me now, I'm meant to be the dominant one here"

Keito gulped, his adams apple bobbing up and down as his eyes glossed over with a sweet mix of fear and anticipation. A layer of sweat had begun to form on the skin of his forehead, the redness of his cheeks moving to cover nearly his entire face. It was adorable how pathetic he looked, his hips grinding upwards into your barely covered heat.

The hard-on he had been so desperately trying to hide was now poking into your thigh, the tip leaking droplets of pre-cum and staining the front of his jeans. His teeth bit down hard against his bottom lip, drawing a tiny bit of blood as he fought back the urge to scream, to whimper, to beg for you to fuck him senseless. He was failing miserably, though, you could see right through those yearning green eyes of his.

"I know you want it~" You cooed, brushing the tip of the dildo against his cheek, coaxing a small grunt out of the man beneath you. "It's okay, you can let go. Better than cumming in your pants like some sort of horny teenager, no?"

Keitos eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of the cold silicone on his skin, his whole body tensing and untensing with each breath he took. "Just do it, please"

"What a naughty little slut you are"

"(name)~"

You giggled, bringing your hand not holding the dildo down to palm the outline of his cock through his pants. He was practically bursting through the fabric, throbbing with each tiny movement you made. You couldn't help but crack a smile at how adorable he looked. Finally at your mercy after months of teasing and denial on his part.

/--------

It wasn't long before your clothes had come off and you had Keito bent over on the bed, ass high up in the air and face pressed down into the pillows to muffle his moans and sounds of bliss. Slender fingers traced over the boney structure of his back and back down to his ass again, squeezing it and leaving bright red handprints all over.

The strap was tightly attached on your hips, the tip of the lube-covered dildo prodding against his puckered up hole. Keito let out a whimper at the feeling, arching his back even further so that just the smallest bit of the silicone spilled inside-almost like a desperate puppy begging for its masters praise.

"Don't fucking tease me-" SMACK!

You brought your hand down hard on his ass. The slapping noise echoed throughout the room followed by Keitos groans of pleasure. "Don't be a brat, or else I'll leave you here whining for me" There was a hint of sadism in your tone as you cooed out the cruel words, massaging over the area you had spanked. "Patience"

The man beneath you grumbled something unintelligent in response, probably something along the lines of 'I am patience' and 'just fuck me already'. But you decided to pay no mind to his mouthing off this time. Punishment for that could come later, right now all you wanted was to fuck your boyfriend stupid.

With that thought in mind, you at last started pushing the length of the dildo inside of Keito, slowly, inch by inch so you could indulge yourself in the sweet, beautiful moans he let out each time the toy sunk in deeper. His hole was so tight, sucking it in like a vacuum, like he was made to be used like this.

"Feels good? I bet it does, your such a whore for me, aren't you?" You bottomed out, his whines as you hit the deepest part inside him like music to your ears. "You like this?"

Keito nodded his head, whole body shaking as he reached one of his hands behind his back to wrap around his cock, which had been rock hard and leaking all kinds of juices onto the sheets this whole time.

But, you weren't going to let him get that release he craved, not by his own hands at least. So, you grabbed his wrist and pulled it back, earning another whimper and another mutter of curse words. "No touching, alright? You'll only cum when I say you can"

He didn't respond, too far deep into the pleasure he was feeling just from being full to do so. His face and the way his knuckles gripped the sheets until they turned white was enough of a yes for you, so you pulled the dildo all the way out, only leaving just a smudge of the tip inside, before slamming right back in without warning.

You set a fast paced and rough rhythm within the first couple of thrusts, your hips bouncing and slapping off of his with each one. The room immediately filled with lewd sounds; Keitos moans of pure ecstasy, your grunts of effort and sadism, the bed creaking from all the movement on top. Like an orchestrate of sex.

"Shit!~ Fuck, (name), you~!" The man was a mess, drool dripping down his chin, eyes blown wide with lust, the works. He could barely speak, only really able to let out babbles of your name and attempted insults.

You thought of how he usually acted, so prim and proper, controlling, and bossy as ever. Seeing him reduced to nothing but a dumb slut whose only thought was your fake dick inside him? It had your core clenching around nothing at all, and a ring of wetness pooling around your hole.

With one hand rested on his hips to keep you steady, you used the other to reach down and gently stroke his cock, meeting the thrusts of your hands with the thrusts of your hips. "Wanna cum, baby?" You leaned forward to lick a stripe from his ear to his neck, "Wanna cum like a little bitch? Then do it, show me how messy you can get all for me"

Keito didn't need to be told twice. Maybe half a secound after those words left your lips, hot ropes of cum were shooting out of his aching cock, covering your hand in the white sticky substance. His back arched until it looked as if it might snap in half, and his moans were so loud the whole world might have heard. It was a sight that left you in pure awe, truly, Keito had never looked more gorgeous in your eyes.

You continued to thrust into him through his orgasm, only stopping once he had gone limp and slumped down onto the bed into what could only be described as a puddle of sweat, cum, drool, and a withering mess of a man.

And damn, was it beautiful.

[trashy-tries-writing]

Hii there's absolutely no pressure but I love your writing and thought: what about Ravine working with the 141 on a mission where drugs are related and they need to find them (or something of that sort, I'm no expert in military stuff) and they bring a k-9 with them that is known for being aggressive and attacking if not treated with utmost precision, only for it to warm up to Ravine and snuggle up to him even tho he's the scary and "mean" one?

Pictures: Cooper with Ravine VS Cooper with anyone else

Dear Anon, I love your magnificent brain for coming up with this scenario!!! And thank you so much!🤗 Also no worries I don’t know anything about the military either :’)) I hope I wrote this how you imagined, do let me know 🙌

Warning: Mentions of drugs, PTSD, amputation, transplant- Probably wrong military name usages and stuff. Maybe OOC?💧

Let me know if you want a part 2 of this, where they chase down the drugs with Cooper 😀

Drug mission with an aggressive K-9 who only turns putty for the "mean” Ravine. The boys are conflicted about who to feel jealous of- Cooper or Ravine, both who usually don't let themselves be touched.

Ravine, who just finished his massacre, was sent to 141’s base once their mission to get intel turned into a drug chase. Along with the confiscated information, they found a hidden stash of high class heroin on the boat, therefore they wanted the soldier to join them.

Laswell had tracked the owner later: Caro Edgar, a well known drug lord that has been long enough on the wanted list. Price decided it was time they get the man behind bars- or dead.

Someone from the DATR (Defence Animal Training Regiment) was delivering their best narcotic detection dog to the squad per Price’s request. Some of the boys were ecstatic to have a little furry friend with them…

Until the dog actually came into the base.

The K-9, Cooper was a menace to deal with.

He bared his fangs at the men in front of him once his cage was open. Gaz, who was excited to greet their four-legged friend, took a sudden step and Cooper was already in his face, mouth ajar to bite his head off, if it weren’t for the chain being pulled back by the dog handler.

Soap flinched back from the sudden hostility and that owned him a bunch of barkings while saliva flew from the K-9’s mouth.

Safe to say, both men backed off and used Ghost as a human shield. Said man glared at the canine, his shoulders tensed. Price on the other hand looked at the soldier with a questioned look, who lent them the aggressive canine.

“I apologize but he is the only one qualified with the mission, the others aren’t ready or already on duty.”

 For the past two days, they tried to get along with the aggressive K-9 but it wasn’t getting any better.

If they moved too fast, he barked.

Breathed wrong? He growled.

Too close and shifting wrong? Cooper jumped them if it weren’t for the chain stopping him. They had to fill his bowl and slide it over from a distance due to Ghost almost losing his hand the first time he tried to fill his plate.

Price was 100% certain that Soap was having nightmares of the dog ripping him to shreds while he slept. Gaz refused to come near the devil spawn and walked along the edge while pressing his back to the wall. His eyes never left the four-legged demon when he passed around it.

Ghost? He and Cooper had a glaring contest every single time the dog started barking and growling like a feral animal when they came across each other.

 On the third day, Ravine finally reached the base and the dog hadn't lessened his bullshit which made the Task Force slowly lose it. Cooper made noises throughout the night when he felt like they didn’t suffer enough trying to take care of him.

The dog trainer admitted that she was a little afraid of the Belgian Malinois herself. The previous owner died on the mission so the dog was passed down to her. Cooper was one of the best K-9 they had so they had to keep him even if he was being hostile to the other dogs. They had to separate him into solo training with a group of supervisors to get the K-9 under control.

They were all currently all out in the open, trying to make Cooper listen to their commands. They couldn’t keep waiting due to the risk of Caro Edgar shipping a whole warehouse of drugs underground.

“Steaming bloody Jesus!”

Soap jumps back, close to losing his footing when Cooper jumps up to meet the man face to face.

“This isn’t going anywhere! We need a new dog damn it!”

Price sighs and opens his mouth to agree but notices the collar ripping from the sideline.

“Get away from him, NOW!!”

*Snap*

Cooper wastes no time to attack, Gaz who he seems to be running to, screams in fear and throws his body to the side. Only to reveal Ravine appearing from behind him, the men panic at the soldier staring at the report in his hands.

“RAVINE DUCK!”

Their hearts skip a beat when the dog comes slamming down onto him from above. Papers flew through the air as Ravine couldn’t even finish registering what Ghost was screaming about until a blur of black and brown came into his sight.

They run towards the fallen soldier, expecting blood to pour from his shoulders or any part Cooper decided to bite into.

But Ravine laid on the ground unharmed with a hand holding the front legs and the other grabbing tightly on the dog’s mouth like a muzzle as he proceeded to get the K-9’s face further away from his.

“That was close. You good mate?” Soap warily inches closer but stops when Cooper starts growling again.

“Aye.”

Ravine sits on the dirt for a moment before casting the dog to the side. As if the squad felt the change in their newcomer, they huddled together on the sideline with the dog trainer holding a brand new collar in her hands.

Cooper shakes his fur, his fangs out, ready to pounce at the threat in front of him. Ravine on the other hand stood calmly on his feet, his height casting a shadow on the dog as it came flying towards him.

“Sit.”

The dog flinches at his voice, hesitates for a split second then prepares to pounce, his jaw open-

“Sit.”

What some humans didn’t know was the highly sensitivity of a dog to pheromones. Cooper feels it, the malice from the stranger standing before him seems to grow and expand to an immeasurable size, all pointed at him and him only. Cooper was lost inside, alone, hunted down like a prey. If he didn’t listen now- he knew he was actually going to perish.

So he sat down, lowering as far as his body allowed.

 Gaz glances between Ravine and the dog in worry. “He doesn’t actually think this is going to work, is it?” His hands feel sweaty as he wiped them down on his clothes, his eyes peeking at Ghost and Soap. “He wasn’t here to see how dangerous it is.”

“I don’t think he’s dumb to believe that.” replies L.T. with crossed arms, the thought of shooting the little menace crossing his mind if the mutt decided to take a bite out of him.

“Sit.”

They suddenly find themselves on the ground before they hear Price cackle loudly on the bench. Soap’s legs felt like jelly when Ravine ordered them- the dog with a tone he hadn’t heard him use before.

Ravine stared at the quartet on the ground and Price on the bench, curious what the Captain found so funny at him getting the dog to lay down. He might never know because they avoided looking into his general direction.

Soap laid on his back, his face in his palms, Gaz pushed his hat down to hide his expression and Ghost was lucky to have his mask on as he grabbed his arms while turning away, the dog trainer pushed her head into her knees that were pulled towards her chest.

And lucky Price, who was already sitting, continued to crack up towards the squad with the occasional whines being let out from Cooper in the background.

Ravine thought the Captain told a joke that made the others react so strongly and didn’t bother questioning it, to their relief. When everyone calmed their hearts, they mentally agreed to never talk about this situation ever again but they knew Price would never let them live this down.

 They decided the little demon was Ravine’s responsibility now.

And at first they were glad to not have to risk their limbs anymore.

Cooper listened to every word Ravine spoke and slowly throughout the day, the dog started to waddle around without having to be leashed although he would still snap at the other’s who weren't Ravine.

What started out as an aggressive attack dog, turned in half a day into a puppy longing for affection and attention.

 On the fourth day, 141 was slowly getting fed up.

At one point they were jealous that Ravine gets to be on the menaces' good side. He gets to ruffle the dogs fur, pet it while they get a face full of teeth and saliva. Along with Cooper sitting on his lap, his thighs making it look really cozy to touch, the K-9 performed tricks and wagged his tail like a love-sick puppy yearning for cuddles from the man.

As if the four-legged demon didn’t plan to give Gaz a nose transplant, a hand amputation for Ghost and PTSD for Soap.

Then they couldn’t approach Ravine without Cooper getting in between them.

They weren’t allowed to be near him and had to stay at least a good few feet away. They couldn’t even hand him things over without the damn dog scaring them, so Cooper could bring the stuff to Ravine like some newspaper.

At the meeting to track down Caro Edgar, Cooper decided to interrupt by going in between his legs and standing up to put his front legs on Ravine’s chest. He wouldn’t stop bouncing until his human put an arm around him, his hand laying on top of his head for scratchies.

Price’s content that Ravine was a help to get the dog under control. They couldn’t risk flunking the mission caused by a misbehaving K-9. He lets his eyes linger on the duo, a smile spreading on his lips when the faceless man doesn't repulse from the physical affection.

He wanted to go back to the report but noticed that no one was really paying attention anymore besides Ravine, who was looking at the documents on the desk.

Gaz is tempted to pull at its tail beneath the desk so the K-9 would stop bothering Ravine so much. He snaps his eyes away from it when Cooper looks directly at him. The menace threw his attention back to the man petting him when the smell of fear slowly radiated off of Gaz.

Beside Ravine sat Soap as he wondered if one day the slouching male would give him a hug too. For a while he stared at the demon disappearing and replaced by a puppy in Ravine’s embrace.

Ghost gawks at the mutt in irritation. He fed him and got his limp nearly bitten off and now the same mutt is squeezing his teammate’s chest like some paw toy. He knows that Cooper was given him side eyes and showing his sharp fangs to mock him. Ravine looks down to check on the K-9 and there it goes acting all innocent.

‘Cunt.’

 On the sixth day, the dog trainer already left while the team wanted to get the mission done and over with, so they could immediately return the K-9 back to her.

Soap’s mind wanders around until he thinks aloud, his eyes following the dog wagging his tail at the tall man trying to train in peace. He grimaces at it for stealing his chance to bond with Ravine all to itself.

“Do you think that brat sleeps in the same bed as him?”

“I’m sure it does-” Gaz sips loudly from his bottle, his eyes glaring down at Cooper when the K-9 gets to snuggle closer to his chest before being pushed to the side, “Look at it! The dog gets to hug him before I even get the chance for Ravine to let me touch his shoulder!”

“I don’t even get a high five from him.”

“Me neither.”

Both turn their heads towards Ghost, silently edging him to answer the question. He sighs under his breath. “Negative.”

They all turn back to watching their friend from afar, occasionally cursing the dog under their breaths when they see how physical Cooper was getting with the man who was known to back away from people who wanted to touch him.

Even Ghost wasn’t that stingy.

Hell breaks loose when Cooper starts to put his paws on the man’s ass.

“ThaT’S IT-”

“Wait Soap, don’t dO THAT-!”

“JOHNNY DON’T-”

Terrified screams could be heard through the base along with a string of curses and a dog’s vicious barking. It ended with Ravine ordering Cooper to back off from his friends with a slight edge to his voice which scared the dog into laying on the ground shamefully.

On the other hand Gaz and Soap grin victoriously and pull faces at the dog behind the safety of the soldier’s back. Ghost silently curses the mutt for acting inappropriately while Price is hiding in the back, recording the whole situation to send to some people.

[thedeviltohisangel]

“Watching in awe as your partner slides their finger into their mouth with your cum on it” for Cass & Bucky please 🤭

LEGS DIVORCING PROMPT ERA

PLOT TWIST. Princess Era is the setting for this one. I am feral for the sex these two have and yes please come talk to me about it.

also. basically a full one shot.

warning: smut

Her gossamer nightgown was thin but there was a layer of sweat over her skin. She had just finished her bath and Mary had disappeared to grab her evening tea when her handsome and brooding knight had come through her bedroom door.

"Your Highness, my apologies, I-"

"Mary went down to the kitchens, John. It's just us." And that is what was nerve-wracking to her. They had developed such a familiarity with each other these last weeks. Had discovered the brush of his hand in the hall made her heart flutter into the sky. That his lips pressed against hers made her forget all her manners. That the way his hands had wrapped around her waist and pulled her close the night before...she had forgotten all her morals.

"Is that always what you wear to sleep?" He swallowed thickly as his eyes raked up and down her form, barely hidden from him by the fabric.

"During the summer months, yes." A new aspect of her to keep him up at night. He took a few steps further into her room, his sword at his side but his armor discarded in favor of a loose tunic. "Here to check for monsters?" she asked with a smile as she took a few tentative steps closer to him. Ever since the display he had put on at the tournament and the actions he had taken the night of the riot, John had been upgraded to her personal protective detail. He spent all day by her side and all night outside her room. The only person he trusted to relieve him was Gale, sneaking off to sleep for a couple hours and steal food from the kitchens before he was right back with his princess.

"Gale will be taking post outside your door. I was ordered to get a full night's sleep before the ball tomorrow." One more function to celebrate her betrothal. One more function that send a murderous desire through his heart.

"And how I am supposed to sleep with you so far away?" He smiled.

"I'm sure you'll manage, Princess." Mary gasped and the tray of tea rattled slightly as she arrived back, Butter yipping softly at John before trotting to Cass' side. The dog always liked a trip to the kitchens where the cooks gave him enough scraps for a week of meals. "I'll be taking my leave. Good night, your Highness." Butter looked up at her with confusion, perturbed the man had been in this room without him to protect her.

"Don't worry, your Majesty," Cass squatted to kiss his nose and welcome the lick of his tongue to her face, "he'll be gone all night."

-

A hand landed on his shoulder and woke him with a start. Interrupting his dream of Princess Cassandra in her nightgown.

"Someone made it over the gate. Need you to relieve Sir Gale." The man was off in a run and John wasted no time, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on his clothes before he grabbed his sword and was off in a sprint.

"Gale!" he called his name as soon as he saw him down the hall. The blonde man nodded once and took off towards the warning bells, John catching his breath before opening the double wood doors to the Princess' bedroom. Butter barked viciously once before he recognized who it was.

"There, there, my love. We're okay." Cass wrapped him in a hug where she sat by the fire.

"Don't even need a knight with this one." John held his hand out and Butter looked at him blankly before trotting to take a drink of water. "He hates me."

"He's protective. Takes a while for him to trust people." Especially after the incident with Lord Landry. "What's going on out there?" She had peered through the curtains but hadn't been able to see much.

"Someone climbed over the wall. They'll be apprehended soon." Testing his luck, John stroked a finger down the back of her nightgown strap. He could feel her warmth. Feel the way her breath caught before he even made contact with her skin. "Do you know how hard it is to breathe without you, Cassandra?"

"I'm sure it barely scratches the surface of the emptiness I felt when you said you wouldn't be outside my door tonight." She turned and pressed her palm to his chest. "You have introduced my eyes to colors they've never seen. Introduced feelings my soul hadn't uncovered. Spurned a fire in me so smoldering I'm afraid it will catch everything I touch."

"Princess," he groaned as a warning before he captured her lips with his own. She owned him. Mind, body and soul. From the moment he had looked upon her in the village, his body had yearned for her in a way that was unfamiliar to him but not unwanted. "You are to be married soon." It had been the only thing holding him back from fully giving her every inch of himself. From whisking her away from this castle on horseback until they found a land where no one knew who they were.

"I do not want him the way I want you. Do not want him in any way that I could even fathom of." Lord Landry was always too rough with her. His grip too tight and his words too harsh and he looked at her like she was prey to his predator. He was the villain of every nightmare she had. "All he will do is lock me away to bear him children."

"I won't let that happen. I won't let him touch you," he promised as he held her closer. He was already thinking of way to ensure it.

"When you touch me, when you look at me," her back hit the wall and he caged her in protectively, "there is something between my legs I've never felt before. I do not know how to mend it." Clenching her legs together helped slightly. But it was a built up pressure she knew not how to release.

"There is but many ways to mend it, Princess." His hand curled under her knee and lifted it to his waist. "I would like to show you. Will you allow me to?" At their own accord, her fingers curled into the top of his trousers and pulled him forward.

"Please." The friction of his hips against hers offered her a burst of pleasure she would spend the rest of her life chasing as his lips bruised hers with their desire.

"Unless it is pain, do not shy away from what you feel. Embrace it, Princess, let it consume you. When you've learnt to control your own pleasure, you will have learned to control your freedom." Her eyes widened in awe as he dropped to his knees in front of her. He had knelt at the altar of her many times over. Pledged his loyalty to her. Only to her. This instance was no different.

"The way you're looking at me could start a war," she breathed as his eye locked on hers but his lips pressed a path from her ankle to her thigh, the hem of her nightgown rising with it and her leg resting over his shoulder when he was finished. His nose nuzzled against her skin.

"I will answer any call to battle to preserve this feeling, Cassandra. Charge from the front to ensure your skin is unmarred by touches other than love." He was promising her a future she could be happy for by any means necessary.

"My warrior." Her fingers carded through his hair as he finally reached the apex of her thighs. There was no fabric preventing his tongue from flicking across the soft skin. No fabric preventing him from tasting her. No fabric preventing him from learning the sounds of her pleasure. "Oh, John." There was a sensation building in her stomach that scared her at first but he had told her to embrace the feelings and lean into them.

"Does my mending please you, Princess?" His lips shined in the moonlight, his cheeks flushed red and curls wild from the grip of her fingers. His own slowly continued to stroke her as he asked his question.

"This tension...a rope that might snap..." she panted as her hips began to rock into his fingers.

"Let's get it to snap then, shall we? Cure you of this affliction." His mouth was on her with a fervor as he drank from her like it was nectar. Her honey-sweet arousal coating his tongue and spurning his ministrations. Her moans and gasps escalated as she threw her head back with pleasure, nearly riding his tongue as her orgasm worked to its tipping point.

Her first orgasm ripped through her body from her toes to the top of her head. Every muscle in her body flexing and releasing in symphony with the blood rushing from between her legs. Every nerve ending was on fire and consumed by the feeling of the knight knelt before her. It spun her into the stars and then carried her back to earth where he looked at her with love and adoration. And loyalty.

He removed his fingers from her. "I offer you my sword," one wiped clean on his tongue, "my shield," the next made him moan, "and my devotion, your Highness." He took his time savoring the third.

"You have my devotion in kind, John," she whispered in awe. "You have all of me."

And no one would ever be able to take him from her.

She'd rather die.

[medusapelagia]

Seeds of Dreams, Seeds of Truth 3\11

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Magic, Regent Prince/King Steve Harrington, Knight Eddie Munson, Prison, Sick Steve Harrington, Vomiting, Attempted Murder, Poisoning, Double povs, Panic Attacks, Magic

Read it here or on AO3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, (Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11)

WC: 2232

One week.

Steve has been held prisoner in the dungeons for one week and, apart from that brief moment in which he saw Joyce, the only people he has interacted with are his father’s guards, who never speak to him, and a mysterious blond kid that quietly stares at him with his head tilted and his blue eyes pinned on him, the same boy he used to see when he was a kid. His invisible friend, he used to call him, the one he played with when he was left alone in the longest night in the castle, but seeing him right now means only one thing: Steve’s hallucinating. 

He does his best to keep himself hydrated, but he can’t force himself to eat the crust of stale bread that the guards bring to him every day. He doesn’t even stand up anymore: he feels so weak and fragile and his dreams are haunted by visions of Eddie dying in the most atrocious way while he is so close to him but can’t help him. 

Steve sighs. He is starting to think that the only blue sky he will ever see is his little square, but what is even worse he will not lose himself in the dark well of Eddie’s eye, not even one last time, and the last memory he will have will be his guard screaming his name while Jeff was trying his best to hold him back, like a feral animal.

Night after night his little star has shown himself, shining brightly just for Steve, as if it was trying to remind him that he has to be strong, Steve would like to tell her that he is doing his best, but his body is feverish and sick, his stomach hurts so badly and he has no more strength.

“I’m sorry…” Steve whispers to the star that he sees every night, lifting one arm toward the sky as if he could pat the little star like a dog.

A dog… a stray dog, as Steve called Eddie the first time they met. 

The little prince had intended it as an insult, but Eddie wore it like a compliment and it became a playful nickname between the two of them: no more a stray but a guard dog, a faithful presence at Steve’s side, ready to bark and bite everyone who got too close to his master.

A playful puppy, but also a strong defender.

Steve’s last regret is that he would not see him again, or kiss his chapped lips, and he will never glide his fingers through Eddie’s black mane again.

“I’m sorry, Eds…” Steve whispers, staring at his star one last time.

***

Like every other night, atop the stairs there is a guard that is watching the prisoner, annoyed. The man is leaning against the wall, sipping some wine that he took from the kitchen, while he hears the music coming from the banquet hall. He curses under his breath, complaining because he is freezing his ass on the stairs while the others are having fun. After all the eerie things that are happening he deserved to have some fun as well, but no, his captain put him in charge of the prisoner. As if the poor guy would be able to get anywhere. He sips more wine from the bottle, he has had horrible dreams in the last few days, maybe more wine is the solution to finally get some dreamless sleep. A suffocated thump behind him attracts his attention, so he sets the bottle of wine on the ground and he turns toward the upper part of the stairs. He squints, trying to understand what’s going on, but all he can hear is the loud music coming from the banquet hall. For a moment he remains with one foot on a different step, unsure if he should step upstairs and check what’s going on or not. He takes a couple of steps more, moving his hand toward the hilt of his sword, ready to wield his weapon if needed, but he sees no one. 

“Fucking rats…” The man murmurs to himself, turning his back to the stairs and stepping back toward his position, but as soon as he turns he feels a rope tighten against his neck and a cold voice whispering in his ear, “Rat is offensive. I’m a dog. A stray dog.” and then the guard falls to the ground, unconscious.

A shady figure kneels at the side of the guard, patting his body in search of something, and when he finally finds what he was looking for he can’t suppress a little happy giggle.

“Come on, we don’t have all night!” Another man says, and the man kneeling on the ground nods, getting up and running down the stairs but he stops abruptly at the end of the stairs, cursing under his breath.

“Holy shit! Steve… Stevie…” the man calls, but the man in the prison cell doesn’t stir.

“Fuck! Do you think he is…” the other man asks, worried.

“Don’t even think about it, Gareth!” The first voice scolds his companion while opening the cell’s door with the keys he stole from the guard. “Stevie? Steve? Can you hear me?” he tries again, freeing Steve’s arm and grimacing at the red blistered skin under the rusty metal.

“Eddie…” Gareth says, holding the torch close to the prince’s face: Steve’s golden skin is a sick shade of green and he is not moving, not even now that Eddie cradles him.

Steve’s personal guard grasps his dark hair with a pained expression “We waited too long. We should have come to get him as soon as that piece of shit took him away from us. We should have killed them all when they got to the Sacred House!” Eddie murmurs a litany of insults toward the king and his guards, while Gareth puts two fingers on Steve’s neck.

“He is alive!” he announces with a breath of relief. “His heartbeat is so faint that it’s hard to find it, but it is there. He needs a healer. And quickly!” Gareth says, “Let’s go, I don’t know how long it will take the guards to find out that no one is patrolling.”

Eddie nods, wrapping the ruler of his heart in the ratty and moldy blankets. He shivers when he touches Steve’s cold skin: the boy usually runs so warm and always complains when Eddie touches him with his cold hands, but right now he feels so cold that Eddie’s hands in comparison are hot like lava.

“Fucking piece of shit!” Eddie curses under his breath, lifting the unconscious boy bridal style, and then he and Gareth start to run. When they meet Joyce on the top of the stairs they exchange a little nod, and as soon as they leave the keep they hear the woman screaming behind them, and the sound of feet rushing in her direction. 

They have just enough time to get to their horses and run into the woods while the guards gather together and raise the alarm, waking up everyone, but Eddie and Gareth are fast and they know the woods like no one else. They had hid for a few days before finding a place safe enough to let them rest and make a plan to save Steve. They gallop into the woods, avoiding the main path and getting deeper and deeper. Somewhere behind them the dogs are howling, the guards probably gave them a piece of Steve’s clothes and now they are following his scent, so they decide to cross the river on their horses to cover their tracks. Eddie cusses as he tries to ride the horse with one hand while keeping Steve’s unconscious body tight to his chest with the other, but he manages to keep going and keep Steve safe in his arms. When they finally cross the river and the horses reemerge on the other side the two men keep galloping to the furthest part of the woods till they see a little wooden house with some white smoke coming from the chimney.

“Help! Help!” Eddie calls, halting his horse who whines in protest and shakes his head, offended, but Eddie has no time to lose. As soon as Gareth reaches him he lets the body of their prince slide into Gareth’s arms and quickly dismounts from his horse, not even stopping to tie the horse to some trees, and kicks the door of the little house open. “We need help!” he yells, letting Gareth inside.

Inside the little house, there are two women: one tall woman with short hair and a black cloak and numerous crystals around her neck, and a younger one with a white cloak and long blond ponytail. The younger one is the quicker to get to the door, but she covers her mouth with her hands when she sees how pale the young prince is. “This way. Quick!” she says, showing them a bare room with a bed where Gareth lies the unconscious boy.

“What happened?” the other woman asks, getting closer and looking at the pale boy who is barely breathing. “Was he wounded?” she asks, checking him for injuries.

“I don’t know! I haven’t seen any wounds but when we found him he was unconscious.”

The woman in a black cloak lowers his nose toward the boy’s mouth, “His breath is too feeble and I smell a hint of almond.” she declares, getting up quickly, and going through their ingredients, grabbing some of them and knocking down others in her rush. When she has gathered all she needs she starts to stir some kind of potion.

She starts to work on her potion as fast as she can, adding herbs and other ingredients that Eddie doesn’t really know what they are but that smell really bad. She keeps stirring it until a green puff of smoke rises up, and then she pours some liquid into a wooden cup.

“Make him drink this.” She declares, offering Eddie the cup once the potion is ready.

Eddie gets closer to his prince, lifting gently head and trying to help him into drinking the smelly potion, but the boy doesn’t move, so Gareth pries his mouth open and Eddie gently pours the potion inside Steve’s mouth, moving his finger on Steve’s throat, trying to coax him to swallow it.

For a few moments, it seems that nothing happens. Eddie is so tense that he feels like a string ready to snap, but he can’t move: if Steve is going to die he has to remain at his side, murmuring to him comforting words without even knowing if the boy can actually hear them. Just when Eddie is almost resigned that they were too late and that the only thing he can do is hold his lover’s hand till his last breath, Steve’s body starts to spasms and the boy suddenly opens his eyes and turns to the side, holding his stomach.

A mix of the potion and some black goo splashes on the ground, while Eddie keeps patting Steve’s back, praising him. “Good, you are doing so good, Stevie. I’m so proud of you. You are doing so well.” He murmurs while the boy keeps retching. “Let it out. Let it all out.” He whispers, sweetly, while holding the prince’s hair away from his face until the boy almost collapses. 

Eddie gently cleans his mouth with a tissue and helps him back on the bed.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he asks, offering him some water to wash away the terrible taste.

The two women, at the other side of the room, share a worried look and that doesn’t go unnoticed by Gareth, who turns toward them and asks worriedly, “What?”

The women keep staring at each other in silence, until the older one gently pushes the other toward the kitchen, “Do you mind fetching me some  flamingo potion , sweety?” she asks, and the other woman smiles softly and nods, goes back to the kitchen and comes back with a pink potion that smells like candy apple. “Drink a little bit of this. You’ll feel better after.” She says, offering the cup to Steve, but his arms shake too much, so Eddie grabs it and tilts the cup, helping Steve take a few sips, before letting him lay back in bed, his eyes already half closed.

“Sleep my king, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Steve asks in a voice so little and sweet that Eddie cannot refuse him even if he wants to.

“Promise.” He confirms, kissing his knuckles and smiling at him but he can’t avoid a shiver when Steve’s eyes close once more, the image of him half-dead in that prison cell is still engraved in his memory.

When he is sure that his love is still breathing he turns toward the two women.

“Tell us.” He demands.

“We have seen it before. That black goo.” They finally admit.

“What is it?” Gareth insists.

“Nothing good.” The older woman replies, staring at the asleep boy. “It’s a very old potion. I have no idea how someone managed to replicate a potion that was prohibited ages ago.” she murmurs almost to herself.

“Prohibited? And why is that?”

The woman lifts her blue eyes and stares at Eddie, “Because it’s dark magic.”

[nerdraging4point0]

Because @ladyveronikawrites encouraged me to create this brainworm. Based on a certain photo that made us absolutely feral! And created the beautiful photo work you see before you.

And additionally those who have been supporting me along the way. @circle-with-me @itsjustemily @tearfallpixie @thesazzb @beaker1636 @synthetic-wasp-570 @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written

I present to you a tid bit before the release in 24 hours!

Stalking slowly out of the shadows from the direction of her only means of exit was another version of this deadly beast, its brown fur and shaggy snout also clasped by a muzzle. The shaggy beast turned to his comrade, snorting, the demon dog giving a low growl.

"You fuckers can climb walls?" Her voice cracked as it escaped her throat. "Why am I not surprised?"

She turned, looking over the gap in the buildings. If she leaped across at this distance, she'd hit the wall, maybe even fall fourteen feet if she tried to cold jump it. Her escape route was looking pretty dim. Her eyes darted back to the beasts behind her; the shaggy one dropped his head, stalking toward her with determination. The hellhound barked assertively, shaggy partner stepping back, ears flattened against his skull, giving him a quizzical look. 

Can they climb walls and communicate with each other? What the fuck did these bastards create? Her mind was trying to piece together what the scientists in that lab-created. Nothing about it made sense; nothing in her life made sense.

Suddenly, a torn-out throat or a fourteen-foot fall seemed to pale compared to the more dangerous things these creatures could do; all teeth and claws with what seemed like the intelligence of the average human did not mix well. 

Well, I'm gonna die either way, aren't I?

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝒈𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 : 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 ꒰ 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒔 ꒱◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ summary, featuring alessio 781 : you are a new hero and you follow a group of criminals back to a warehouse after they caused havoc on your patrol. as you prepare to strike, you are stopped by a perculiar figure. friend or foe? you know not. your choices will have consequences and unlock further scenes and endings.

start your playthrough at the main menu. ꒱

“Just do your thing and let me do mine.”

The scoff from his mask does not wipe away the grin in his eyes. Strange. Not that you have the time to dwell on it. The warmth of his presence leaves your back. Displaying you open for attack as he rushes forward to tend to his own devices.

A wave of relief washes over you. Momentarily. For when you spring into battle you quickly realise that your new ally is no more.

He rushes ahead. Bombarding the crowd of criminals in his own way. A dance you cannot fall into step with.

It is your turn to grunt. Especially when a hit to your head leaves you dizzy. Nevertheless you persist forward. Pride sears through your very being. An incessant need to finish this. With or without the man’s help.

A bare dodge here. An attempted strike there.

Miss. Again.

Dismay makes your tongue bitter. Your heart. The flurry of attacks is most useless. At least when compared with Reaper’s.

And the worst part of all?

He isn’t batting you a single eye. A single sliver of help.

A part of you is at ease. Perhaps it is better that way. You only need to regain your focus and allow the adrenaline to steer you through. Which you surely do when you begin picking up your own pace.

Strike. Dodge. Stumble. Fall.

You leap to a wall and propel forward. Weapon slashing through a mix. A harsh pant from your lips. What great effort.

And yet they’re barely dissipating.

“Getting tired, sweetheart?”

The voice from your side makes your brow twitch.

“Shut up.”

You zip around. Aiming an attack on him yet driving it to the enemy instead. Not that you would land much of a hit with how swiftly he dashes to his own target.

“Maybe you should go back to potty training. Seems the big guns have you spinnin’, pup.” You can practically hear his smirk. That smug voice of his that you wish to silence.

Instead you hone the frustration into your attacks. Which become messy. Feral. Evidently taking more damage than dealing.

“I’ll show you pup -”

“Oh yeah? You gonna bite?”

That laugh makes your teeth grit. You barely even notice the changing of scene. The fact that bodies lay around you, a result of his hand mostly. The remainder disappearing from your line of vision.

The same gaze that would quickly become even more blurred as a tightness of thick binds find your waist, abdomen and chest. A whirling zip whistles through the air — followed by your yelp as your feet leave the ground.

With a mighty pull, you only just notice the device strung up on the ceiling. The grappler tool he had used in combat earlier. You can only assume it was designed expertly, given the strength it holds. The way it so effortlessly suspends your squirming figure in the air.

“Bastard!” Your shout meets a tut. It is only then you notice the vacant warehouse.

The rest must have ran.

“Bark bark bark and no fuckin’ bite.”

His hand makes a sock-puppet shape and flaps.

He has the nerve to ruffle his hand on your head. As though you were some dog. Your glare does nothing to deter him. Instead he takes a quick gander over your helpless form. Specifically the hits you had taken.

His head shakes. How dare he judge you?

“You’re fucking clueless.”

Reaper steps around. A quick shove to your body has you yelping. Sprawling around pitifully like a bug caught in a spider’s web. With the sound of his boots echoing through the midnight air.

“Maybe stick to your field. Playground’s at Valertos if you’re wondering.”

The insult has you grunting. But anything that leaves your lips would fall on deaf ears.

You are left there. Dangling. With a new mission: find a way back on the ground from this blasted device.

꒰ GAME OVER : bad ending 2 - strung up ꒱

𖹭. taglist◞ wanna join the taglist? fill out this form

𖹭. remember◞ you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please considering doing so<3

. ˚◞ ꒰ 🍰 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒔 ꒱ tip jar . masterist ⊹ ۪ ࣪

[robo-writing]

ohhhh my god you have no idea how much clive looks like he needs to be pegged. the sad blue puppy eyes is everything. pull out the strap and mf is screaming crying barking like a fuckin dog on his hands and knees RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH EJDHDKDHKDHDKSGKDDHKEHDDJD

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I AM A FIRM BELIEVER THAT CLIVE WOULD START CRYING INTO THE SHEETS IF YOU PEGGED HIM

Your husband is a chameleon, a talent you’ve bore witness to many a time. The red-blooded warrior, the man whose swordplay is only outmatched by the ferocity of his flame. The leader with a heart of gold, who fights to save Valisthea from itself and bring peace to the lands.

But to you, all you see is pink. The color of romance, the same color that fills his cheeks when you hold him, caress him, kiss him—

The same color that clings to his skin, adorning it in its rosy hues. The same flush that runs down to his neck, his chest, even the tips of his ears.

The same color of his cock as it ruts against the sheets. Aching and twitching, untouched save for the gentle touch of the fabric—a touch unlike the one you give. Warm hands glide against his spine, having him arch even further for you as he moans, the four walls of your room an audience to his debauched state.

“Darling, hells—“ he begins, unable to finish whatever he was to say when you roughly thrust into him, gently pulling him back by the nape as you coo into his ear.

“You should see yourself Clive, so cute,” you mutter, leaving the softest kisses against his neck even as you fuck him delirious. “Tell me how good I make you feel, hm?”

It’s almost incoherent, the way he sings your praise, desperately pushing his hips back to meet your almost violent thrusts. The contrast between your soothing words and biting movements makes him dizzy, makes him clutch into the sheets harder as an inferno spreads across his body. He’s reminded of your command when your free hands pinches at his nipple, awakening him from his lustful stupor.

“Come on Clive, say it,” you repeat, patience waning. The same hand at his chest now moves to massage his ever-so sensitive cock, the slick sensation almost bordering on painful, but yet his hips still thrust into your hands embarrassingly fast.

Clive gulps down a breath, sweat hanging from his brow as he speaks hoarsely. “So good, so fucking good—“

The slap of your hand against his backside rings loudly in his ears. You allow him to fall back onto the bed again, still whining your name as you reach lower and fist his cock with each movement, his body shaking with exhaustion.

“Please, I can’t take anymore,” he cries out, his tip steadily leaking pre-cum. “I’ve been good—fuckinghells—“

You fold yourself against his back, and for a moment you think to yourself how someone so large could fall so easily victim to you. Nearly double your size, and yet he’s begging for you to fuck him like a common whore.

A feral grin spreads out at the thought. A whore, but at the of the day, your whore.

“You have baby, I’m so proud of you,” you gasp, sensing how badly he throbs in your hands. “And good boys get to come.”

At the sound of your approval he buries his face into the sheets, shudders when your fingers trail from his shaft to his balls and lets out a heavy grunt as he cums, his cock bouncing against his stomach as he makes a mess below, the heat of it radiating against your fingertips.

For all the colors that your husband shows, his pink will forever be your most favorite.

[readmyfreak]

Logan Howlett ficlet. 18+

Bottom!Logan. GenderNeutral reader. swearing. fingering (logan receiving), spit(a bit), no lube because of healing factor reasons and they’re stupid. this is my first fic like this. please be nice.

_____________________

You didnt think that twunk could get any more annoying, but then you had to sleep with him. It was fine before, he’d roll his eyes or make some scathing comment and you’d bite and snarl at eachother until you both calmed down. After a few months of living in the same building together it become obvious how much you and Howlett got on each others nerves and Prof. Xavier had to intervene. It was starting to effect the students.

So Prof. Xavier demanded that you two either fix whatever problem you have with eachother, or you’ll both be on battle simulation duty for the next year.

It started with sparing. Anytime you two got in an argument, the closest X-man would corral you both towards the gyms and make sure it was empty before letting you two loose. This worked for awhile, but then the two of you would start arguing just for the excuse to fight eachother.

Then finally, after being at each other throats for almost 2 years, you both snapped.

It’s that fuckers fault. His short ass was barking in your face about whatever you both were being petty about now and his stupid fluffy hair bounced with every shake of his head. He was angry and feral looking and it was obvious how much he needed to be put on his ass. But his shirt was already off and he was sweaty and in your space and he had such pretty eyes. so you kissed him.

Logan immediately latched on like he was waiting for this to happen, and with the way the fucker was smiling as he bit at your lips, he was. He started backing you up towards the benches near one of the walls of the empty gym and shoved you on your ass, climbing into your lap. He planted himself down and got to work on tearing you neck apart.

“Fuck, Logan. Wait.” you say, head spinning as he sucks hard on your shoulder. He pulls back immediately but already looks impatient. Like it was in his schedule for the day to give you a necklace of hickeys.

“What? Do you not want me?” He pouted at you and honestly, for such a dangerous guy, he looked adorable in this moment.

You grabbed his hips and he grinds down against you for a second before you start talking.

“Believe me, I do. But do you want this? You were about to slice my throat open 5 minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I was flirting with your dumbass, bub. Fighting gets me going. You get me going. Can we continue going before I decide not to let you fuck me?” Logan starts grinding again and you’re not one to turn down such a nice and polite offer, so you pull down on his hips and kiss him again.

You can’t tell how many minutes pass but it’s enough for you both to be mostly naked and panting into each others mouths as you aggressively grind and grab at eachother. Leaving behind hand shaped bruises and small scratches.

“Touch me, c’mon.” He leans back and grabs your hand to shove it behind him and you snatch it back.

“We don’t have condoms or anything and i left my bag upstairs so you’re just getting my fingers. That ok?” He nods aggressively, his hair and dog tags bounce wildly with the motion.

“Fucking, c’mon!” Logan practically snarls at you, his claws popping out as he stabs through the wall on either side of your head. “Use spit, I’ll be fine. I like it. C’mon!”

You shake your head at how desperate he’s acting. Hips moving and arms tense on either side of you. His thick thighs twitching from holding himself up for so long. His eyebrows are furrowed as he switches between glaring into your eyes or down your torso.

“I should’ve known you’d like it hurting a bit.” You stick your fingers in your mouth and coat them nicely in spit before shoving them in his open, panting mouth to gather more. The moan that rips out of him is more of a growling grunt than anything, but it’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard come out of him.

“There we go, nice and wet for me.” You pull your fingers free the same time Logan rolls his eyes at the condescension in your tone. Finally, if Logan’s look of relief was anything to go by, you reach down between his legs and slowly insert a finger. You push deep in one motion and Logan’s hips finally stop moving as he freezes. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a low moan.

“Fuck! It’s been awhile.” He chuckles a bit before he cuts off with a grunt as you start to move. After a minute, thank fuck for healing factors, you slide in another finger and Logan starts moving his hips again.

Two turns to three and Logan’s grinding turns to bouncing and now you have a feral lap full of The Wolverine riding your hand. How the fuck did this become your life?

“That feel good, baby?” You smack wet, open mouth kisses down his neck and over his shoulders. The slight redness they leave behind fading almost as fast as your leaving them.

“Yeah, fuck. Almost.” You could tell he was trying to fix his angle so you spread your knees to spread his thighs so he can sink further down onto your fingers and finally use your other hand to grab his dick. The sob that leaves his mouth will be haunting your wet dreams for months to come.

“Please! Please! Come the fuck on!” You tighten your grip on him and start actively meeting his bounces with your own thrusts and he’s gone.

Logan’s eyes snap shut and his mouth drops open as a long loud groan, and some drool, pours out of his mouth. His cum hits your chest and stomach and it’s immediately smeared against you as Logan falls forward to grind harder down onto both of your hands, his claws scraping deep divots into the wall behind you.

He slows his hips as his breathing settles down, blinking at you through teary eyes. The smirk this fucker throws at you would’ve knocked your pants off if they already weren’t.

“Fucking, damn. Fuck. Your turn?” He raises an eyebrow but you just smile at him.

“Nah, baby I’m good. Seeing that was enough. Let’s get you in the shower.” you stand with him in your arms before he can protest and walk him over to the nearest stall. Setting him down on wobbly legs, you gather soap, rags, and towels.

“You sure? You can use my mouth?” Logan offers in a way that lets you know it’s definitely more for his own benefit than yours and you smile again.

“I’m fine. Save that for your next fuck buddy.” You start soaping up his back as he starts to clean his front off.

“Nah, I’m keeping you. And next time, you’re putting something in me to fuck me properly, yeah?” It wasn’t a question. And you didn’t feel the need to refuse.

[bonkywobble]

Kinktober ‘22 - Day 6

Day 6 - Edging/Bondage with Frank Castle

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Word count: 462

Warnings: Language sexual content (18+ only): edging, clit play, bondage, dom!Frank Castle, brat taming.

Disclaimer: Please heed the warnings - if this makes you uncomfortable then click away. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.  I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with it are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

A/N: Day 6! Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Kinktober ‘22 Masterlist

It’s in his tone, those deep and sharp inflections akin to the barking of rabid beasts - the easiest way to tell if you managed to successfully piss off the Punisher. And though it’s hard to tell because he’s currently facing away from you, the frustrated clenching of blunt teeth and the curling of thick fingers is all too easy to imagine right now.

Probably because you’re the one he’s pissed off at.

He shucks his bloodied tank top off and turns on the stool, revealing yet another row of stitches on the tattered canvas that is Frank Castle, and thumbs his nose. “You wanna go ahead and repeat that, sweetheart?”

By god do you not. Between the ropes tying you to the bed and the air from the cracked window chilling your sweaty, bare body, you’re uncomfortable enough as it is. Your pussy, though, is suffering the most here, folds wet and nub swollen after the brief attention Frank’s already given it.

You forgot that the man can hold a grudge.

He forgot that sometimes you can be so goddamn stubborn.

With that, you hold your head up as high as you can and bite out, “Fuck you and fuck your stupid plan.”

Lifting the whiskey bottle to his lips, he takes a deep swig before standing. “Fuck me, huh,” he sniffs, “Well, I’d offer but it looks like no one’s gonna get what they fuckin’ want today.”

The heavy thudding of his boots is slow but deliberate, a starving dog circling a pretty and frazzled bone. The mattress dips under the weight of his knees and soon he’s hovering over you pouring amber liquor all over your stomach. You hiss as it makes contact with the small graze by your left hip, the pain immediately soothed by the brushing of Frank’s tongue.

You barely hear the smashing of decanter glass against the wall, too caught up in the sensation of broad hands gripping the globes of your ass and the feel of his tongue moving lower and lower, closing in on the source of your own frustration. Dumb enough to forget his words, your head drops back onto the pillow and your eyes flutter shut as he blows hot air onto your puffy clit.

The slap catches you off guard, tears pricking now open eyes as your pussy jerks at the stinging sensation. Your hands tug foolishly at your restraints as you cuss the Punisher out.

Frank looks up, his ember gaze blown and manic, feral smile making its first appearance tonight, before smacking your abused button once more and chuckling at your whimpers. “Looks like some people don’t know when to listen to the experts. Good thing we’ve got all night for me break that fuckin’ attitude a’ yours.”

[captain039]

PART 5 Craving the wild side

Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: AOB, mentions of medical things, mentions of needles, mentions of abuse, feral alphas, light swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, sexual things, eventual smut, death

Summary: after being rescued from a police raid feral alpha Dean Winchester his placed in the rehab process where he’s a struggled case till you come along. Having his feral ness cloud over his emotions and stop him feeling it’s hard to get through till him till dreams enter his mind and yours connecting you both and doctor/patient becomes more and harder.

Part part <-

You went to bed early that night, too exhausted to do anything else. You fell asleep quickly which was a first also.

“Dean!” You yelled wandering around the farm trying to find the alpha.

“Dean!” You repeated huffing as Champ barked at your side.

“Go find him you have a better nose than me” you huffed but Champ just tilted his head.

“Good dog” you chuckled patting his head as you headed to the barn. You heard loud metal music and realised why he wasn’t answering. You saw him bopping his head and sang as he worked on his newly brought project a 67 impala.

“Hey!” You yelled and be turned grinning as he sang louder while pointing to you.

“I was calling for you!” You called over the music as he just continued his singing. You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow as he danced his way to the radio and turned it down.

“What’s up?” He asked grinning.

“Mum wants to go to that new restaurant in town tonight, thought we could ask Sam and his mate too?” you said looking at the new shiny engine he put in.

“I’m cool with that” he said wiping his hand on a rag.

“It’s nice” you commented referring to the engine.

“Isn’t it?” He grinned like proud father.

“Ok Mr big head” you teased and he smirked. He grabbed you suddenly and tickles your ribs making you squeal in laughter as you tried to get him to stop.

“Dean!” You laughed as he kept his attack on.

“Stop!” You said breathlessly as he finally did but kept his arms around your waist. He smiled at you pressing a brief kiss to your nose. You giggled softly finally controlling your breathing from his tickle attack. He had soft eyes and a loving smile as he looked at you.

“What?” You asked chuckling softly.

“I love you” he said softly and you smiled.

“I love you too” you said.

Your world changed suddenly, now at the restaurant in a nice black dress, your mum laughing with Dean and Sam about something. You laughed with them too as you enjoyed your food. Dean was being immature making you slap his thigh but he just grinned at you. Dinner finished and desert came out the waiter smiling.

“This desert literally ascends you” he said and you smiled before looking to Dean who was frozen.

“De?” You asked softly as Sam called his name too. Time whizzed by and Dean was attacking the waiter, punching him to Death as you and Sam tried to pry him off. His eyes were lit up he had fangs like a monster as he snarled.

Dean jolted away, sweat covering his body as his eyes darted around the room. He flicked on the lamp by his bed and ran hands down his face. His doctor was always in his dreams a happy life turned carnage just to remind him of how messed up he was. He swore he could always feel her in his arms, he could never smell her though but he imagined the apple pie smell would suit her. He was struggling between mindsets of wanting to blank in feral state of dealing with his emotions as the doctors put it. He had no hope here, he lost hope as soon as his mother put him up on that market and ran with the money. He protected Sammy though, got him to an orphanage hopefully. He sighed sitting up in his bed, back against the cool wall. He was used to not having clothes on, he got beaten by some owners if he did. When he was younger the thought made him cringe but now, now it was like a layer of sand paper on his skin. Despite the foam mattress the rehab provided he often stayed on the floor, after the fight today though he assumed he was placed in his bed. It felt odd having some form of comfort under him.

He thought back to the fight, the only time he ever went feral and fought was in the pits or dungeons of rich omegas had under their houses or private islands. He’d been moved around a lot no owner happy with him, too tall, too big, too small, wrong scent, wrong eye colour, wrong hair colour, whatever they wanted to pick on. Course when he did get an owner he was thankful for the roof over his head instead of a crusty shelter.

He remembers the alpha police officer shooting down his handler before getting him and five other alphas out of the shelter and into rehab. He vaguely remembers the isolation and medical injections, he may have broken a few noses and bones before they made him unconscious. He was moved her two weeks later, for the first week the beta that came him made his feral state present more and he zoned out. The second beta he attacked a few times, they reminded him of a fight pit owner. Then came you, he saw you through the glass first before you went into his room on the first day. You sat down against the wall pillow under you as you tapped at your tablet. He felt strange towards you, hated that he couldn’t catch your scent by whatever implant these doctors had. He hated not being able to read you quickly. He didn’t mean to jump you but the moment you asked about his past he was on you. You weren’t overly scared, more worried as you stared at him, his hand able to easily crush your wind pipe. He could hear the guards but didn’t care as he pressed his nose to your scent gland. If he ever did this to an owner he’d be beaten and thrown in a cage for a week. He couldn’t smell you and his rage built, he was frustrated and growled that’s when a shock went through him and to you. His fear went through the roof as you jolted and he rammed the guard off you in order to protect you from more harm. When you left he knew you wouldn’t come back, but you did. You kept coming back each day talking about your farm first, you dog Champ and your occasionally your mother before going into his questions and past. He usually shut off for those, eyes glazed over in his numb feral state. Many omega owners called his broken or strange by his ability to go feral but not attack or rage at anyone and just numbly sit still. He’d been poked and rested on many times with no answer but he didn’t care. Then the dreams started, feverish dreams that had him panting and pining, waiting for you to walk in. He knew you had them too, perhaps the same dreams even. Your cheeks would be redder, you’d fidget more and avoid his eyes. When he attacked that guard he was in a feral rage, he hadn’t seen you that morning and his alpha needed it. When you appeared it was a relief and he almost collapsed on you. You had pulled him out of a feral state and he realised what he had done. He cried on you he felt broken down far too gone and craved your touch. He wanted to be one with you, let you absorb him. Then he felt the collar go on and saw your possessiveness kick in before one of the officers took you away. He saw your body exhausted as you walked away, he’d affected you too.

He hated himself for what he did and didn’t eat or drink what was given him. He avoided his medicine too till he was forced to take it. Then he fell asleep had that dream and awoke. His body once again craved his omega.

Next part ->

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2

@globetrotter28

@deans-spinster-witch

[joestrummen]

wait yell here are the best bits from a cmjf post dog collar fic i never remotely finished

The heavens over Max are alive with flashes of starlight. Black clad figures shift and smudge around him. Holding him down. Behind them rises a pillar with broad shoulders. A carved chest. And blood on its face. The pillar turns to look at him. And all falls black.

---

He makes his circuit of the ring, lifting the blood flecked chain above his head like a title belt and the crowd roars. A wall of sound battering him with glory. He holds his hand out and they touch it, anoint themselves with the blood.

---

CM Punk is a persistence hunter. All he needs are glimpses of that golden gazelle skin through the crowd to keep going. Max had thought he'd won in Chicago but that was just the first 15 second sprint. And here Punk is months later still ready to go. And the gazelle has fallen, tired. And Punk is going to sink his teeth into him as many times as he wants.

---

"Get your hands off me, woman." Punk can barely hear the murmur of her reply. "Oh yeah honey I can believe there are plenty of backwater community colleges handing out nurse uniforms to girls with big enough tits."

---

Punk slips his hand into his shorts, shifts like he's adjusting them, but slots the diamond ring back on his finger. He raises his hand and scratches his nose, casually, as if he isn't deliberately waving the ring in Max's face.

---

"No, no, no, no! Dax, you can't leave me with him!" Max wails. "Dax, he's gonna hurt me!" Behind Punk, Max's breaths keep hitching even after Dax is long gone. Punk lets him have his moment. Now they're alone he can take his time with him. Max doesn't give up though, just gets louder, sounds like a baby crying, until Punk's curiosity gets the better of him and-

Max is sitting with that big ugly grin on his face. He lets out one last cartoon sob. "You really can't help yourself, can you?" he croons.

"The more I beat you-" Punk stalks towards Max. "-the faster you come crawling back for more."

Punk looks down at him from the bedside. "I beat you, Max."

"YOU CHEATED," Max barks, never able to resist the bait.

Punk makes himself look fed up. "Tell yourself what you want, Max. You clearly need someone to help you with" - he gestures Max up and down - "this mess you've made of yourself."

---

That's the kid's problem. He still runs from the pain. To win in this game you have to live in it. You have to luxuriate in it. That's how you find the opportunities within it. To win.

---

"What happened tonight, Max?"

"You cheated!"

"Guess that's another thing I'm better than you at. What did you do Max?" Every time Punk asks his smile gets sickly sweeter. "Say it, Max."

Breathing fast, trying to keep something wild inside him under control, he says, "... I lost" with sullen eyes and a pout and never has another 25 year old looked like he's still seven. Every unfatherly insinct rises inside Punk.

---

Punk keeps his hand on the back of Max's neck, just a little pressure under his fingertips, a reminder that Max isn't running again. Punk won't let him go.

That's the thing with Max, he wears the devil's mask but if you can get close enough to crack it... underneath there's just a guilty little feral kitten that hisses until you scruff it.

---

"You are one sick little kitten. You came here to rub salt in my wounds, because it's what you think I want. Because it's what you want."

"I'm better than you-" Max leans in close and smiles sickly sweet, "-and you can't get enough."

[mara-xx217]

Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 13.0- Wizened or Witless?

I'm doing something a little different this time and making what I guess could be called a 'multi-choice' chapter. The parts will be finished soon so I hope you enjoy!

The last of the Fellowship is the current reigning king of Ma'habre but it couldn't be the old man that stands before you, could it? Still... there's an undeniable power in his eyes that makes you shiver in disgust. Is there a point to delving any deeper, or should you just give up while you still retain the remnants of your sanity?

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Leering, Genuinely Unpleasant Discussions

“You’d do well to stay clear of that cursed, rotted place.” 

You had already delved too deep. Could you simply just… leave? The man before you was old, ancient, with dark, leathered skin and an iron-grey beard that spilled over his legs and onto the ground. He was hunched over as though pained by the years that he carried on his back. There was… something about him, what, you were uncertain of, but whatever it was, it made your stomach twist into knots and made your fingers reflexively tremble and reach for your weapon. Your companion, Frederick, already had his weapon drawn and was pointing it at the stranger, who didn’t even spare him a glance as he stared a hole straight through to your core. 

“A man cannot attain true godhood. The souls of men are too wicked and tainted, too frail to do so.” With the heel of his foot, the old man tapped on one of the cages behind him, the dog within barking loudly and lunging against the metal walls that contained its feral fury. Every time the cage jostled violently, your heart sank to the depths of the Abyss and came surging back up whenever the beast remained locked in place. 

“What do you know of godhood, old man?! You’re nothing but a fool! A fool that-” As Frederick spoke, the man burst out into laughter, though it was sharp and cruel and lacking any warmth of joy. 

“‘A fool’! Yes, yes! A fool, indeed! Though a fool that you will not best, methinks.” His eyes finally shift away from you and land on your companion, his shoulders visibly bristling under the old man’s gaze. 

“What was that?! You think I am incapable of killing the likes of you-?!”

“D-Don’t-”

“-do not TOUCH me-! You little wretch-!” As you reached for his sword arm, Frederick pulled it from your grasp. He never turned away from the stranger and spat in his direction. Phlegm landed on the man’s steel-toed foot, his facial expression never wavering as he watched your companion turn to walk away from him. 

“-you aren’t worth the effort it takes to raise my sword arm. Come-” Frederick beckoned you over his shoulder as he left the kennel. His footsteps were wet in the urine-soaked floor and echoed against the temple’s walls. A knot formed in your stomach as you watched him walk away.

“...fool. A fool’s ego is a terrible thing, indeed.” The old man was staring at you again, almost as if he was sizing you up. You feel that, if he weren’t so enfeebled and you armed, that he would have inflicted some sort of evil upon you. Sensing your discomfort, he smiled, again void of any warmth or friendliness, just as most things in this accursed place was. 

“Are you a little weasel? Or are you capable of something more?” He was looking you up and down, his eyes raking against your body with enough intensity that you could feel his gaze on your bare skin. It made you shudder in disgust and fear. 

“Hmph- No, I doubt very much that you could do more than be an extension of a foolish man’s dominion…” The old man’s laugh was harsh and kicked your body into motion. You left him, gooseflesh covering you from head to toe. 

Rounding the corner, you can still hear the man’s laugh ricocheting off the walls around you. Frederick was already down the hall, not having bothered to wait for you to follow him. He knew that you would follow him and you did, blindly and with your head down as the old man’s words still repeated in your head. 

‘I doubt you could do more than be an extension of a foolish man’s dominion…’ 

In between the clacking of your and Frederick’s heels, a loud, metallic clank snaps you out of your thoughts. It must have started Frederick too, as he stopped mid stride and exclaimed aloud-

“What the hell was-?!”

The sound of claws scraping for purchase on the urine-slick floor and barks loud enough to reverberate throughout your bones nearly deafens you and freezes you in place. Four large, ragged and frothy-mouthed dogs barreled down from the side room that the old man was standing in. Cold fear freezes the blood in your veins. W-Why would he-? 

Frederick was frozen too, eyes wide and limbs stiff, unable to raise his sword. You both only need to flee deeper into the temple to reach the end of it all. The end…? Or… another path? The temple was the beating heart of this old, decaying place and the entire reason why he journeyed to this terrible place. He couldn’t even remember what the country that he hailed from looked like. What it sounded like… What it smelled like… You were just the same as he, losing what you once were every passing second that you are in this terrible black. 

If you remain in place, you will die, but you will die as yourself and not what you could possibly become should you fall into the shadow of the last withering new god. 

However, if you don’t… 

What will you do?

Run

Stay and fight

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