#be put in the vault beneath

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

If the Sergeant knew he was going to be put in the vault beneath W.I.T. headquarters, why did he hide his teleportation device outside the cell, instead of inside it?

Oh, right, then he wouldn’t have needed Daeif and the Circuit Chaps to bust him out of the vault, thereby speeding up the course of events.

[artytaeh]

THEODORE NOTT HAS A LOT OF MONEY. and even though that's a relief that indulges his own impulsive spendings to pamper himself, it still doesn't feel like he properly makes use of it.

the large bookshelf on his bedroom, at the nott mansion, might suggest otherwise.

( what? theodore enjoys special editions; no, it's not silly to want a first edition of one of his older favorites, or a hard cover version with a better illustration, really. much less having paid more for a book on his native language, given that he's in london, a bit too far away from the city he was born, millan. )

but then, ah— there it is! the reason why his family's ridiculous wealth makes sense, now!

because what theodore nott lacks in a few matters, such as communication or spending a lot of time with you, when he needs his time alone, he'll compensate like this.

one might perceive this as a heartless, uncaring way to press bandaids over emotional wounds; believe me, it couldn't be farther than this.

theodore just likes to see you smile, and given that his black card is a means to such an end, well, why not?

things are just things; but things do bring happiness, so yes, you can buy happy feelings!

theodore would love to know if you collect something— mugs? he's bringing a new one for you, now paying extra special attention to crockery themed stores. snowglobes? there's this one he found, with a charm to it! if there's a comic series you like, theodore would discreetly surprise you every week with a new volume.

only for you to go and break his heart, standing in front of his door with his gifts in arms, extending them for theodore to take it back.

cluelessly, and looking a bit like a kicked puppy, theodore frowns. are you angry at him? isn't this the type of thing you like? should you reassure him that your only issue is the excessive money spent on you, theodore feels like a weight left his shoulders.

huff; so, he does know how to please his girlfriend and what she likes!

... but why are you rejecting him? 'hey, bella, don't offend me— this isn't going to empty nott's vault any time soon.'

should his puppy eyes work, well then, you're doomed.

because theodore will use this same excuse over and over again, when he brings another thing that reminds him of you. what? you mentioned that you like coats like these! it's a color you like to wear, and you'll need warm clothes like that in a matter of weeks!

do you not like his gifts? theodore will give you a look that, if you didn't know better about his cynical shenanigans, you'd believe that his heart was being shattered to pieces.

that's the reason why dates at hogsmeade are so dangerous. i'm being serious— you might as well keep your eyes on the road, stare at the snow beneath your feet, because if you spend more than four seconds staring at something inside a shop...

there isn't time to process anything else; theodore's mind works fast. you saw it, you seem to like it, he's buying it. in a blink of an eye, theodore already has his card between his index and middle finger, nonchalantly making his way inside.

'can't a man spoil his girl? goddamn it, dolcezza.'

clothes are almost worse. if he sees something that you're staring at, and likes it, theodore is putting so much (discreet. not so discreet,) effort into convincing you to let him buy it for you.

'you'd look good in it. see, it's a color you like, it would look really good, given your skin tone.' and then, he takes a different approach: 'trying it on doesn't hurt, right?'

a cruel plan, you see, because then you fall in love with this dress, as much as theodore fell in love with the idea of you wearing such pretty clothes.

his arms embrace your waist, like a snake slowly trapping its victim; the fabric feels right under his skin, the dress looking as if it was sketched for you, fitting better than a glove.

theodore rests his chin on your shoulder, holding back a smirk as he sees you mourning the idea of leaving the dress here— it's just so pretty! and theodore's compliments don't help!

🗯️ : but teddy, it's really cold these days. i wouldn't be able to wear it, anyways.

t : and that's why we learned simple warming charms during third year.

🗯️ : sure, but— i don't have where to use it, so it's not worth it if it's just going to look pretty in my dresser.

t : no worries, bambina. i'll think about a perfect date for you to wear this, looking so pretty for me. bellissima, la mia bella ragazza.

NO USE IN ARGUING WITH HIM; theodore nott always wins these rounds. the battle is won, and the war is benefitting his side.

even if you do not let him spoil you with such impulsive thoughts and freedom, theodore would never, for the life of him, let you pay for a single coffee or meal while you're with him.

lunches at hogsmeade are a favorite of his. obviously, he's paying. this slytherin doesn't joke about the topic; will give you the biggest side eye if you take out your wallet.

who do you think he is? his mother raised a man that knows how to treat a girl right, and a good boyfriend! no way in hell is any soul at hogsmeade, scotland, europe— hell, galaxy!— considering that he's not taking care of his amata ragazza properly.

ALL IN ALL, THEODORE FINDS IT SWEET how much you worry over it, and insist that he could spend this same money on things that he likes.

but that's what you fail to understand— what theodore likes, more than a new book with a promising synopsis, or an exquisite astrolobe— is seeing you smile for something that he got you.

﹙★﹚ won't give you gifts to earn his forgiveness earlier, though. he wants his presents to feel like he genuinely thought you'd like it, not as a bargain or bribery.

anyways, i love this man. 🌷

[nouearth]

sweet surrender.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: there's nothing better than taking your anger out on someone you hate (and fucked).

wc: 2.3k. genre: smut. warnings: bale!bruce, top!bruce, bottom!reader, bigdick!bruce, bratty!reader breeding, mouth-fucking, rough!sex, hate!sex, choking, drooling, spitting, mentions of pain slash pleasure, bruce has a dick that won't quit.

hate sex with bruce included kissing you with a sense of urgency. he overwhelmed you with the intrusion of his tongue. you resisted, but the wet muscle parted your lips so easily despite your efforts, and all you could do was fight back with a stronger force.

he held you against the wall, pinned you, but you utilized a surprising strength to push against his hold and bit down on his tongue in midst. an accidental move on your part, but you hated him. it made your chest swell hearing him cuss you out, and so you did it again, across his bottom lip where he'd groan again, before licking the insides of his mouth as if you were the potion to soothe his wounds.

fuck you. he'd grumble, breathing hot into your mouth after he slammed back into the wall. he speared a glare at you, into the fervent display of your eyes, and forced his lips back onto you. he hated kissing you. he hated the way your lips perfectly fit into his. he hated how your breath mixed sweetly with the scent of roasted coffee beans of his. he hated the sound of your moans when he pressed his body into yours. he hated the fact that he was pressing so close to you, practically attached to your hip.

and he hated the fact that there was not a single moment where he wanted to pull away.

fuck you. you spat at him, leered at the way his hair sweatily yet perfectly hung over his eyes as if it was a protective barrier that prevented you from dissecting his current feelings and emotion.

bruce vied for control—a dominance—that was proclaimed triumphant when he put his hands on you.

one strong hand of his laced over your hair, thick bundles at his grip, and he pulled your head back in one swift yank. your eyes opened in shock followed by a rattled groan, and a somewhat unnerving fear that you didn't want to admit led you to avoid his eyes.

bruce took his time eyeing your throat, the slow bob of your adam's apple as you thickly swallowed the ghost of coffee beans down, awaiting his next move. was he going to kiss you again? mark hickies all over you? bite hickies into you until you bled? looking beneath your eyelashes, his eyes sharpened, and for some reason, you suddenly felt smaller.

the silence around you fell to a quiet, menacing drone when he raised his free hand and one-by-one, slowly wrapped his fingers around your throat. everything was precise with him. he made sure the protrusion in your throat was centered at the space between his thumb and index. he made sure to let go of your hair so he could press you flat against the wall again, restricting your movements. and he made sure to squeeze, triggering a defiance in you, beating and pushing at his chest that only made him squeeze harder, harder, and harder.

your breath was vaulted in the back of your throat with staggers of profanity managing to slip out. you pretended it didn't affect you. despite your losing grasp in reality as bruce gradually stripped you of air, you powered through and wore a glare that crowned you a champion. he groaned. a warrior. he clenched his jaw. a king. he squeezed. and your crown shattered in a million pieces when your vision blurs, when your eyes gloss like varnish on wood, and when you shut them and a tear rolled down the flush of your cheeks.

and bruce knew he'd won when he let go, and you were gasping desperately for air. heaving as you rubbed at your neck, wincing because the muscle fibers were signaling in thrums that you were going to be bruising the morning after. though, it wouldn't be long until you found your breath completely stripped away from you again.

hate sex with bruce included forcing you down on your knees before finding a perfect grasp on the back of your head and pushing your mouth down his cock. you hated how thick he was, making you look even more meek because it was a struggle to even take in the first few inches. you coughed when he pushed lower, then gagged when the girth of his cock weighed down on your tongue and pushed air back down your throat, blocking your air passage.

open your mouth. he wasn't satisfied, mocking in his tone as he yanked your head back, and you'd use the few seconds to catch your breath as you drew your tongue out, hanging your mouth open. it was intimidating to see him in this position, towering over you as if you were a peasant to his kingdom, or like an animal as your pants were akin to one, but you'd never admit that as you glared upwards. he extended your head further back, yanked again, before thickly spitting into your mouth. or in bruce's own words, lubing your mouth.

as much control he had over you, you weren't going to take it—not like this. you scrunched your face before spitting up back at him, a few speckles landing at his cheek. it was a daring move, one that silenced the room until you could hear your heartbeat resonating through the stereos in his house.

do that again, i dare you. bruce warned—demanded—as his grasp only tightened, his cock hardening before you as it pulsed with anger. and instead of spitting, you let your saliva completely spill out, pushing it out in bubbly sputters as your tongue hung out, a move to mock him and his demands.

or what? going to fuck my mouth or something? despite his grip on you, it was loose enough for you to allow you to extend your neck and lick a stride at the underside of his meaty cock. he watched you in silence, his bare chest gradually heaving more with irritation. he was breathing through his nose, an obvious attempt to control the flame you ignited him, while you continued lazily tonguing at his cock at the plump head. you added to the glorious sheen his pre-cum had bestowed upon the pink flesh over time, lapping the thick musk up in several licks.

you'd get your answer when bruce threw you over the bed and onto your stomach. your cock found pleasurable refuge in the tousled duvet beneath you and you rocked your hips into the pocket of fabric as you waited for him, hearing him uncapping a bottle of some sort and the sounds of sticky lathers after.

jesus, what's taking so— without warning, bruce intruded into your tight hole with a slow, yet unbearable push. you pushed away, or attempted to escape from the sheer amount of pain beneath you, but he reeled you back by taking your shoulders and pinning them down to the mattress. it knocked the breath out of you. his cock, spreading you open so vividly painful, you could feel every stretch of muscle being pried open despite your natural will to enclose around him.

you opened your mouth, thinking your whimpers would come out, but your throat constricted instead, locking them back in until bruce delivered one hard snap of his strong hips, dispelling the gate to which your groans poured out in staggered and bitter pants. your toes curled at the stinging sensation, and your hands fisted into whatever fabric was in your had, but why did you love it? why did you love feeling like a doll with absolute no use in the world... except for fucking? for bruce's fucking?

think you can still run your mouth? bruce asked with no expectations of a coherent answer from you. he squeezed hard at every flesh and bone he'd come across. the back of your neck, your shoulders, your arms, your waist, bruising while the driving of his hips seemed to have been at competition with his own physical touch to see which could make you break first.

his hand ran over your back muscles, the dip of your spine, before traveling back upwards to shove your face into the mattress, once again restricting your way to life, to living, to breathing. his thick cock fucked into you while a glorious amount of lube creamed out of your violated hole, squelching and squishing with every thrust bruce would deliver in strong and heavy rhythms. he hated you. his bruising touch was evidence of that, already blooming beautiful against your skin, and he hated that he made the mistake of marking you because now you're marked as his.

you'd whine for him to keep fucking you, only because his movements rocked you into the duvet, making you fuck into the pocket of fabric. soft yet fuzzy against your skin, it was uncomfortable but you knew bruce wouldn't make you cum through his own touch. it was up to you, and you were selfish, needed to be selfish to achieve your own desires and pleasures.

you'd gotten used to the pain, soon turning into bittersweet, eye-rolling pleasure, finding yourself fucking your ass back into his thrusts, back into his meaty and throbbing cock. your ass rippled every time your skin met his, slapped loudly in the lust-driven air, and the sweat on your kindled bodies only made it more inviting as it stuck and glued you two together in a sticky mess, intertwined and passionate.

bruce held you by the hips, his fingers digging to the bone, bringing your ass back into him while he thrusted forward, ramming into you as hard as he could muster the power to in quick bursts before pacing back down into long and steady thrusts. he loved doing that. he loved hearing your moans ratter with the quickness of his thrusts. your long and drawn out hiss when he pulled out almost completely. you'd desperately wish for him to put it back in, and bruce wouldn't absolutely comply until you began whining, begging for him like a whore in heat.

please, please, please. i need it. you desperately cried out, the rim of your hole clinging onto for sanity—the very tip of his cock that you could feel bruce teasingly swirl around your hole.

you need what? bruce asked for clarification, a strong emphasis on what, and he'd pull his cock out to sheathe it in between your ass cheeks. his palms spanked you once, then again when you wouldn't answer, before groping your two soft globes and firmly kneading them until he could visibly see his handprints imprinted on your flesh. he'd fuck himself in between your cheeks, groaning at the lack of tightness compared to your pretty asshole. he felt himself coming close, and if he wanted to, he could come just like this, selfishly watching himself pour his spunk all over your back.

your cock, please. i need your big cock in me, fuck. i need you to fuck me until i'm thinking about that cock for weeks, fuck me like you hate me— fuck! your words croaked into the bed sheets, and you were apprehensive if it was enough for bruce. it was embarrassing because of how quickly submissive you became all because of his cock. you hated bruce, but not his cock. you could never. you needed him more than ever because you were close and you needed to come so bad, so fucking bad. you humped into the blanket, your hole quivering at the loss of girth, desperately enticing back bruce with multiple puckers.

like i hate you..? i despise you. bruce breathed out his final words near the shell of your ear before sheathing himself completely inside of you with one push, then proceeded to fucking you without caring that his full weight was toppled on you. without caring that the neighbors could hear your grunts and his mixing like a choir. the sloppy sounds of skin-to-skin contact turning it into a symphony of delectable sounds that he could simply get off to if he wanted to.

you kicked your feet, the immense pleasure quickly building up as if bruce hadn't taken a pause with you prior, and you were back to fucking into the blanket again. over and over, your cock slid into the soft fabric deeper until you were practically fucking a pile of fabric rather than a pocket.

and you came. your cock released your desires in thick, full shots that would stain the material for a lifetime, and you'd cream into them because bruce continued fucking you. continued fucking your ass, churning his cock in and out of you wildly until he felt his own release coming in heavy marches, like soldiers preparing for battle.

you could hear him pant, breathe a little harder and quicker than before, and his grasp tightens around your hips when he pulled his weight off of you. he loved using like this. not fucking you, but using your body to fuck him. he used his remaining strength to maneuver your hips—your body—almost lifting you as he fucked his thick cock, utilizing your hole like a fleshlight until he felt his balls startle, then twitch, then pumped in several course as his cock swelled with a desire to fill.

with a guttural moan, he slammed you back into his cock once more before his balls dumped his cum into you. thick and heavy, you can feel it coating every inch of your walls, then creamy as bruce pursued an ambition to milk himself. his fucking sounded sloppier than before as he churned himself inside of you, over-filling you with passionate hate, and you could feel it dripping out of you, down your thighs and legs and an unfortunate waste as it most likely stained the bed, the longer he used you like an abused toy.

once his cock went limp, bruce pulled out and watched with undeniable admiration as your loose hole squeezed his cum out in thick dribbles, unable to hold his warm loads for any longer because you were deservingly well-fucked and bred.

god, i hate you.

hate you more.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[eupheme]

— below the belt [into the fire, part iv]

part i | part ii | part iii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, brief somno, fingering, light degradation, oral (f & m), light ass play, hair pulling, swallowing, miscommunication, cooper is a diiiccckk, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: just a small warning there’s very brief references about pregnancy and infertility in this, in reference to reader’s vault (in regards to other members)

“I don’t think I‘ve ever been more desperate. Told myself I’d do anything to make sure they didn’t find me.” A small smile, then - as you remember, "But then I found you, and..."

As you turn, you notice he's gone still. Hat tipped down low, a guarded look as the pink of his tongue slips across his teeth.

"Huh. Should've known." He muses - voice slow and rough, "Think I'm startin’ to put things together."

(Or - you open up, and things don’t go as planned)

There’s a pressure at your hips. Something nudging your thighs apart, strong and solid. The ghost of fingertips at the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up.

You stir in your sleep, the dark room swimming. Jerking awake at the press of something against your core - a hand splayed across your lower back, pinning you down.

A snarl in your throat, as you try to twist away.

“Easy there, you lil’ yao guai.” The Ghoul’s voice cuts through the dark, and with it - you feel your muscles start to ease.

“What are you doing?” You croak sleepily.

“Takin’,” He husks - teeth biting into the leather of his gloves, tearing them from his fingers.

Cupping you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clothed cunt. Fingers sliding beneath the thin fabric of your underwear, as your thighs nudge wider.

Back arching, as you stretch out on your belly. A rough hum as you fill his palm. Warm against his fingers, as the tip of one rubs at your clit.

“Was just gonna sleep.” It’s quiet. You don’t know if it’s early or late - the room still bathed in moonlight, “But seeing all this skin, the way you’re offering up your pussy on a silver platter…”

He tugs at your underwear, ripping it down your thighs, “Makes a man wanna take a bite.”

Teeth sink into the soft curve of your ass - a yelp as you jerk beneath him. Glaring at him from over your shoulder, from beneath heavy eyelids.

He’d been gone all day. Something about needing to check the next place out. Not wanting you slowing him down.

There had been a spike of something in your stomach at his words. Fear. Unease.

Condescension dripping in his tone, in his “You best stay put, or I’ll make you stay put.”

Funny how after all this time, it’s him being apartfrom you that had you pacing. Checking out the battered windows, ready to dart back down to the basement. Fighting the nausea of the RadAway still that lingers in your system as the radiation purges itself, after the days before.

Busying yourself with more scavenging. Scrubbing the grime and dust from your clothes in a bucket of radiated water, your pants still hanging off the back of a chair to dry.

The hours slowly ticking by, until the sun dipped under the horizon. The thin blanket pulled up to your chin, as you waited - until finally, you drifted off.

You’re not ready to unpack that. Or the fluttering in your belly now. The relief.

His features are even more skull-like in the darkness, his hat discarded on a nearby table. Faint shadows cast across his face by the still-buzzing static of the television. Dark hollows carved out at his nose, the set of his eyes.

A smear of red against his cheekbone. Flaking off the leather of his discarded gloves. Adrenaline slowly leeching from his system, from an unexpectedly rough afternoon. Unable to resist the urge to sink into something soft and wanting.

There’s a low sound of amusement as he nudges at you, urging you onto your knees. Your back still arched, shirt riding up to where your tits still press into the bed, your face now buried in the crook of an arm.

“Ain’t this a sight.” His hands grasp at your hips, fingers denting flesh as he spreads you open. Baring all of you to him.

Spit pools on his tongue. The dip of his head as his lips part - letting it drip down, warm and wet against your holes.

It makes you gasp, clenching down around nothing. He must see it, how you string tight, with the rough exhale he makes.

Your fingers curl against the mattress. Holding you breath - waiting for the press of his cock, the sharp stretch that you know will follow. Waiting for whatever he gives you.

Not expecting the brush of his tongue, as it flattens against your folds. Languid when it flicks up to your entrance. The sound you make is ragged, thighs pressing together.

They’re caught by his hands. Wrapping around the crook of your knees, forcing them apart again.

“No you don’t.” He hums, feeling your muscles flex in his grip, “You best keep these nice and spread for me.”

Another exploratory lick, tasting you - a muffled groan as he discovers how wet you are when he parts you.

He’s never touched you like this. Your mind is still caught on the kiss, his tongue against your tits, knuckles bruised by the bite of his teeth. Never expecting to know the feeling of his mouth anywhere else.

You don’t want him to stop. Arching more, using your leverage on the mattress to hike yourself higher for him.

“That’s more like it, sweetheart.” He rasps, “You learn fast, I’ll give you that.”

You keen, as he teases at your clit. Tight flicks of his tongue that have you rocking against him. Smearing his spit and your slick across your skin, before his lips are following.

Devouring you. Groaning at your taste.

“Been dyin’ for another taste,” It’s almost a coo, with the syrupy drawl of his words - muffled against your cunt, “Sweeter than stolen honey.”

Marveling at how wet you are, for him - in this dry and dead desert landscape. Nothing but sand and death for miles but you’re here, soft and slick against his mouth, biting back a muffled whine for more.

His tongue dips into your tight heat. Feeling the tight clench of you as he presses close, unhindered by the bulk of a nose.

Your hips rock against his face. Fully awake now, eyes tightly shut. Soft sounds melding with the suck of his mouth, thigh muscles tight and trembling.

“S’good,” It’s rough from sleep. Quiet, as if afraid he’ll stop if you reveal just how good he feels, “Feels so fucking good.”

A whine when his mouth does leave you.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, as his hand leave your legs. Thumbs finding the curve of your thigh, pressing into the meat of your ass, “Like getting tongue-fucked by a Ghoul?”

Opening you up, his thumb ghosting across your clit. Your answer is half-moan, half-sound, as he pinches the tight bud.

“Only if it’s yours.”

He makes a low, rough sound at that. Palming himself from his position behind you.

“Still talkin’. Sounds like you need a little more.” It’s your only warning before two of his fingers nudge against your opening.

Your gasp rings out, turning soft when they press deep to fill you. The nudge of his thumb with each plunge of his fingers bringing you ever closer. Unable to help the rock of your hips, as his fingers curl inside you.

Each breath is a pushed from you. Ragged and high-pitched, as your fingers pinch tighter. The slight plateau spiking again as he strokes against a spot his cock had found.

Fingers twisting, as the pleasure climbs higher. A third fitting into you, one knuckle at a time. It’s almost too much, your legs pressing flush against his, knees locking as heat pools in your belly.

“Look at these tight little holes. Always takin’ what I give you,” He admires, as feels the way you clench down around him.

The tip of his thumb sweeping up. Following the path of slick and spit, until it rubs against your tight rim, “Good girl like you gonna let me in here, too?”

It shocks you. His words, that hint of praise. How unexpected his touch is. Your focus narrows to the pad of his thumb, the steady pump of his fingers. His groan rough as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck. Filthy little thing.” He grins, adding the slightest pressure.

Your own moan is wanton, loud and needy in the near-silent room. So close you can almost reach out and taste it - ready to sink your teeth into the ripe flesh.

“I’m gonna-” You manage, but it peters off, slipping into a moan.

“What? You gonna come?” He mocks, but it’s ragged. Losing its edge with his own need - too focused the wet squelch of his fingers, how your hips buck against his palm.

The mattress is rough against your cheek as you nod. Words are all but stolen from you now, leaving unable to answer. Nothing left but the ache for your release, everything inside you winding tight.

With your soft sighs, his neck bends - another lick against your pussy, where his fingers still pound.

The next slick brush is against your clit. The tilt of his head so his tongue can flick at the tight bud. Again and again - and with the third, you feel yourself shatter.

You wail, as he rips it from you. A bright pulse that radiates inside you - your release dripping from you with the clench of your cunt. A low hum as he feels how hard you come around his fingers, against his tongue.

Eyes closed so tightly that stars spark behind your lids. There’s the rough cadence of his voice, but everything is muted except the pleasure that sends your nerves alight.

Not noticing the panting whines are coming from you, until you drift back down.

Softening, when his fingers ease from you. A hiss when he leaves you empty, already missing the heavy fullness.

“Flip over,” The Ghoul growls, as he leans back on his heels.

Your muscles tight in the best way from the bend of your knees, the pounding of his fingers. A soft groan as you shift, your back pressing into the mattress as your thighs open for him.

His eyes already there, seeing the slick shine between your legs, the pretty gape where he’s worked you open. There’s the clink of his belts, as he works himself free, achingly hard in his palm.

Anticipation swelling as you wait for him to hike your legs around his waist and bury himself in you.

That heavy gaze flicks up, instead. Bare skin, the pushed-up tangle of your shirt. The cock-drunk haze of your eyes. Your soft, parted lips as you catch your breath.

He’s like a shadow as he crawls up you. Tattered coat licking at your legs, lean thighs spreading as they bracket your ribs.

A hand plants next to your head as he arcs over you. The other wrapping around his cock - where it hangs heavy, brushing your chest.

Your eyes are wide, focused on the thick shine of him as he works your slick over his cock - how the flushed head disappears with the stoke of his fingers. Lips already parted in anticipation.

His hand unwrapping, fingers slipping against your bottom lip. Hooking around your teeth, as your tongue licks at his knuckles.

A sharp inhale, when you close around and suck.

“Gonna use this mouth,” He husks, “The way it ought to be used.”

Pressure against your jaw, until you’re opening. He leans back, thighs spreading wider. The hand by your ear leaving to curl around his base.

Eyes dark as he feeds himself into your mouth. You can’t help but moan when he hits your tongue - the musky taste of you that clings to him.

Fingers slipping free, but his eyes stay fixed as he inches between your lips. How quick you are to close around him - watching the grit of his jaw. Licking over the rough and uneven flesh, swollen and leaking against your tongue.

He eclipses everything else, with how he fills your vision. A hand slipping beneath your head to angle you, so you can take him deeper.

A shallow thrust that inches towards the back of your throat, constricting around him as you moan.

Intention in the way you slide your hands up for him. Fingers wrapped around the straps of the pack you were using as a pillow. His knees framing your tits, as he rocks into your mouth.

A silent submission that he does not miss. The curl of his lip and the shine of teeth, as you let him decide how much you can take.

His weight presses into your chest, keeping you pinned. Unable to go deep at this angle, but content with the hot suck of your mouth, the wet swirl of your tongue. Finding his rhythm, the clink of his spurs as his knees dig into the ground with each thrust.

There’s an unsteady buck of his hips, and his shaft scrapes against your teeth. You go still - eyes rounding with a jolt of fear - but all he does is let loose a rough groan, chin jutting as his teeth click together.

His hand still cradles the back of your head. Fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of your neck, but not enough to hurt. Almost as if grounding himself, as he pumps into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He growls, “Should thank whoever taught you to suck cock. Gonna make me come, sweetheart-”

Your eyes do close then, resisting the urge to let your hands drift. To slide up his thighs, across his vest, aching to slip beneath. They curl instead, grasping at the straps.

Air rushing into your lungs, as he pulls from you. Eyes fluttering open to catch the way he strokes himself, angling the tip towards your parted and glossy lips.

“You gonna take it?” He rasps, and you nod - letting your tongue peek out for him.

His hand tugs at your hair, his chin tipping down to watch, “Wanna hear you say it. You gonna let me fill your pretty mouth?”

You don’t know when use became let, but if he wants your permission - he has it. It’s always been his, even when it’s been wrapped tightly around you. Tied up in a bow.

“Yeah,” Your eyes are on his when you say it. Focusing on the grit of his jaw, the dark shine of his eyes, “I wanna taste you.”

His fingers tighten, brow pinching. A jerk of his hips into his fist - something bitten back between his teeth, caught in the heave of his chest.

“Open.” The Ghoul groans, and it’s all the warning you get before he’s coming - spilling across your lips, and then into the wet heat of your mouth.

Your eyes flicking up to watch again, though you’re torn. Tempted to watch the rough jerk of his fist, all that exposed skin. But it’s nothing compared to the way he looks at you as you take him. The weight of his gaze, the baring of teeth that has nothing to do with anger.

The Ghoul still tastes like a man should, as the salt of him as it floods your tongue. The kick of his length between your lips with each throb, his eyes rolling shut as he milks himself into your mouth.

His thumb smears across your lower lip, before it sinks inside to join his cock. A ragged breath, when he feels you swallow around both. Your tongue flicking across your lips when he eases from you, the tips of your fingers wiping away the rest.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” It’s a low exhale, a held tension gone from his shoulders. Fingers finally loosening from your hair, though you would have kept your heady steady for him without them.

He flops down on the mattresses, where they are pushed together. Stretching out beside you, the long hours finally catching up to him.

A lift of his hips as he tucks himself away, as you reach down to find the twist of fabric around your knees - tugging your underwear back into place.

Your mind is blissfully quiet - drowsy again, in the late hour and your post-orgasmic haze. Warm, as you roll on your side, studying him from under half-lidded eyes.

He’s close. Enough you can see the rough cut of his cheekbones, the straight line of his teeth. A second as you wonder, not for the first time, what he might have looked like before.

Your cheek grazes his shoulder, as a dark eye flicks your way. An arm splayed out, still tucked beneath your neck from where he had angled your head.

The phantom pinch of his fingers still lingers. The taste of him on your tongue when you lick against your teeth.

“What?” He grouses - as he does, when he can’t read you. When you manage to surprise him.

“Nothing.” You murmur, sleepily, “Just glad you made it back.”

It’s easy then, for your head to tilt without thinking. For your lips to ghost against his throat, where his pulse flutters beneath rough skin.

A ragged breath rattles in his chest, when you press another kiss lazily against his jaw. He stiffens beside you, fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt.

Before he’s pushing - rolling you over. Tucking you between him and the old basement wall, his back to the locked door.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grunts. All bark now, with the way his bare fingers splay across your skin, where your shirt has ridden up.

“Get some sleep. Long walk tomorrow.”

The morning dawns, and there’s something about it that seems more clear.

Or maybe it’s just you, your mind drifting back to the night before. How you woke up with the heavy press of him against you.

It hadn’t lasted long - a rough groan against your ear. Nothing said as the hat fixed itself back where it belongs. A silent tilt of his head towards to door, indicating the departure.

He still follows behind you, but you think just a bit of that gap between you has closed. A silent corner being turned, somewhere between dusk and dawn.

Only thing shared is that he’s narrowed the bounty down to a settlement, six miles from here. Deeper into the desert, instead of the crop of trees you had been hoping to head towards. Shade would be a welcome improvement, to the miles on empty road.

Maybe before, you would have been disappointed. But somehow - today - you don’t mind.

"Yesterday." The Ghoul’s voice comes from behind you - some time later, "You didn't want to stay alone."

It's not a question, but you can hear the way his words trail off. A second as you pick through your thoughts, settling on something you’ve been carrying since the beginning.

"Didn't want to be found." The wind carries your words back to him.

A few more steps pass, before he's asking, "What'd a thing like you do to get a bounty?"

Your steps slow, until he's beside you. A sideways look sent his way, catching his eye.

"You took it." It's the first real time it's been addressed, after your init meeting, "Wouldn't you know?"

He could outpace you if he wanted, with those long legs. Content enough at the moment, to stick by your side, "I know what I know. Wanna hear your side."

You hum, contemplating. Wondering how to explain. If it would make sense to a man like him. If he’d think you were weak.

"Our Overseer had a… god complex," You start slowly - never having to explain it out loud, trying to find the words, "Had it coded in the beginning that only his direct, patrilineal bloodline could work the Vault. Everything went through him."

Food. Water. Power. Everything locked under codes and keys. Thumbprints and DNA, the role of Overseer shared across the current generation.

"All his sons, then their sons, and so on... they all got married off to other families in the Vault. Or they’d find a way to bring in new blood from the outside.” Your mother had been a Wastelander, carrying you when she had been traded. You had never seen the sun until a few weeks ago.

“If you couldn't produce a male heir, you disappeared. If you tried to leave, they'd bring you back, and then you'd disappear. Been like that a long time."

A whispered secret that many knew. Followed, because the security of control and safety outweighed the horrors of the unknown. The knowledge that whether you left or not, your bones would stay in the Vault.

"So what? Didn't want to play the role of broodmare in your utopia?" He sneers, and it's not the first time you've picked up on his distaste of the Vaults, of Vault Dwellers like you.

“Seems like a goddamn picnic compared to the shit you see up here."

“You asked.” Your arms cross over your chest, as you scowl at him.

A few weeks ago and you would have gone silent. Now, you’re starting to her used to his gruff comments, the sharp bristle. Waiting, until his eyes tear away, a small jerk of his chin to continue.

"My name got drawn. Was supposed to marry one. But… in the last five years he's gone through three wives. Not a single child." You can feel the weight of his gaze on your face, the pinch of his brow.

A beat, as you start off again, "Told you, I worked as a chemist. I saw his vitals. It wasn't them, but  for it."

"So you left." His words comes reluctantly, as he fits the pieces together, "I take it they weren't happy about that."

"Wasn't gonna let it be me next." You nod, "But no, they weren't. Like I said, no one truly leaves, but I was dead either way, right?”

A beat, as you take a breath to steady yourself. Stuck in the fear from that day and the ones that followed, afraid of your own shadow.

“I don’t think I‘ve ever been more desperate. Told myself I’d do anything to make sure they didn’t find me.” A small smile, then - as you remember, "But then I found you, and..."

As you turn, you notice he's gone still. Hat tipped down low, a guarded look as the pink of his tongue slips across his teeth.

"Huh. Should've known." He muses - voice slow and rough, "Think I'm startin’ to put things together."

"What are you talking about?" You ask with a frown, thrown off by the change in pace.

"I think you know." He presses, your eyes flicking down to watch the way his wrist reflexively presses against the butt of his revolver, where it juts from his holster.

Scowling now, stalking closer, "Not a bad plan, Vaultie. Was gonna have to fuck someone either way, right? Might as well pick the man with the biggest gun. That what you thought?”

There's venom in his tone, biting into you. The first time his fury has fully been directing at you, freezing you in place.

A shake of your head, your voice sounding small, "It's-, it’s not like that."

You haven’t been using him. Not like he thinks, though you don’t know why he’s so angry. He’s treated almost everything like a transaction - keeping you at arms length.

You’ve been the one that’s falling, not him.

"Christ, you really had me going. You're a damn good liar, you know that?" He spits, with a low shake of his head. A scoff, as his eyes narrow, "Been wondering why you’ve been offerin’ yourself up so eagerly to me."

It makes your head spin, as you try to make sense of his words. Another small shake, the words caught in your throat.

You don't know how to explain that your desperation in the beginning did have its roots in self-preservation. But in all the days and moments that have passed - that surely, surely he couldn’t still think so.

“I know how it sounds but, I-” Your words cut off, as a hand reaches out, wrapping around your bicep. Yanking you closer until you stumble.

"You do, huh? Let me tell you, all you did was trade one devil for another.” The words ground out, snarled between clenched teeth, “You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

His words chip away at your heart. With an effort you try to wrench your arm away - a shove against his chest that does nothing, as your own fury boils inside you.

"How can you say that? You found me, asshole." You snarl, "I haven't lied about anything. I could have left, but I stayed because I wanted to. Didn’t last night mean anything to you?”

“It was just business.” He growls, “Ain’t that right?”

The look he gives you is the final piece that shatters you, as his fingers pinch harder against your skin.

He never cared after all.

Your throat aches. The urge to fight, to make him understand, slips through your fingers. Another shove, harder this time, right into his gut. A ragged breath as his grip loosens, and it's all you can do to twist on your heel.

Shooting him a venomous glance from over your shoulder, "If you're going to take me in, then fucking do it."

You don’t care anymore. Waiting for the rope to lasso around your waist. Bind tightly around your throat, until it chokes you.

But, it doesn't.

You don't look back.

Tears prick your eyes, as you hoist your pack higher on your shoulder. One of the few things that has made the journey with you - so much shed over the miles.

You had endured enough. Had thought something had changed, since those first days together. That maybe, as the days had passed, he had softened. That maybe you weren’t alone in your feelings. That offer just a mask, to act on them. 

All you did was trade one devil for another.

A foolish thought. It makes your jaw grit, an angry shake of your head. You wouldn't cry over him, not after everything you've been through.

The edge of the abandoned town passes, fuzzy with the way your eyes fix ahead.

Blinded to the rest of the world, as you set off for the unknown.

Small pieces forming a loose semblance of a plan. Something about another settlement, a while down the road, into the forest. No bounty there, but you didn’t give a shit anymore.

With the food in your pack, you might be able to trade for some caps. Find some work - maybe stick around, if it's safe.

If not, it's not like you're not used to sleeping on the ground.

Sand leads to dirt paths, then to grass. Brushing your ankles as you weave through the barren forest, the bark stripped bare and bleached by the sun.

The weight of him follows you, though you do not turn around. A hand held loosely on your holster by habit more than anything, as you pick your way across fallen branches.

You didn't need him. Right now you tell yourself you didn't even want him.

But, you’ve never been a good liar.

There's the snap of a branch, then. A metallic creak.

It's cruel, how your heart leaps. How you look for him, breath held with the swivel of your head.

Only to feel like you are falling, when it's not the Ghoul. When a figure steps out from the trees. Two more from an outcropping of rock.

Your body freezes on its own, when you see them. All familiar.

The two from the town, those days ago. Springing to your mind now, as you had peered from over his shoulder at the bounty board. The amateurs - the man with the scar, and his partner.

And the other. All that blue - encased in padded leather armor. He is the one that makes your blood run cold, your fingers curling into fists.

Baine. He was from your Vault. Someone they sent out to bring people back, and every time they came home battered - left to you to patch up, if they lived that long.

"Took a bit you find you," He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes, "Had to enlist in some local help. Thought you'd never split off from that creature."

Your head whips to the side, as they shift - trying to box you in. Fear and fury licks in you, as you grit out, "He's not a creature."

He scoffs, "You keep strange company, but you'll be back where you belong soon enough. I am sure the Overseer will be... forgiving, if you come quietly."

The man with the scar lunges - reaching for your arm. At the same time, you remember yourself. Just able to get your fingers around the butt of your gun, drawing it out.

There's a snarl but you're firing - downing him just before he reaches you, his body careening over the edge of the rock. Your aim twitches towards Baine, but he's faster.

His hand wrapping around your wrist, twisting until you cry out - fingers opening. A sharp pain in your chest, as his fist slams into it.

Fingers unfurling to reveal the syringe, slipped between your ribs. The plunger flush with the base - whatever was inside, already flooding through you.

"Should've gone quietly, girl." It's faded, as if you're in a tunnel. The world tilting on an axis, as your legs give out.

You cry out, for him - the broken noise sounding like it comes from a thousand miles away.

And then… there's nothing.

(someone got their feelings hurt 👀) thank you so much for reading!! ���� I have really loved writing this and them, really appreciate all the love!!

[ddarker-dreams]

play wrestling — blade.

Embarrassment doesn’t find you easily.

To experience embarrassment implies a degree of self-awareness. While you possess some, it’s decreased significantly compared to your earlier years. Such is the natural progression of life. This is why you felt free to act on a little impulse, initially uncaring of how it’d reflect on you.

However, faced with two eyes as crimson as freshly spilled blood, you can’t help but do some reassessing.

“… What are you doing?” Blade asks, dryly. You feel the low rumble of his baritone voice against your palms, which you’ve splayed against his chest. His neutral countenance doesn’t give much away. According to your peer-reviewed scientific analysis, he alternates between three expressions — apathy, irritation, and wrath. There is an additional secret one for when it’s just the two of you and he doesn’t think you’re looking.

From what you can tell, you’ve landed yourself on the apathetic side of the spectrum. You can work with that. You’ll commit to the bit.

“Besting an intergalactic criminal in combat, obviously,” you scoff, faking a bravado you don’t have.

“Hm.”

“…”

“…”

Is he not going to do anything to free himself from this position?!

Blade had silently slid himself next to where you sat on the floor, playing with your phone. This unique opportunity activated a primal part of your brain that probably should’ve stayed in the vault. You wrangled him down. Now, he’s lying flat on his back, with you sitting victorious atop his lower abdomen. Long strands of his black hair fall along his side, painting a pretty picture. You suppress the urge to run your hands through his silky locks. That can come later, you have an objective to achieve.

“Are you finished?”

“Wh— well, no,” you frown. And here you thought he might indulge you. “You have to, y’know, fight back…?”

He raises an eyebrow and you want to groan.

“But I’d win.”

The declaration is made like it’s a foregone conclusion. Which, if you’re being honest, isn’t wrong. Still, he should give you some credit. You can hold your own in a fight! Maybe you’re not waving-around-a-three-thousand-pound-ancient-sword good, but you’re decent enough. He’s no fun. Kafka would’ve played around with you.

“How can you be so sure— eek!”

He grabs you by the shoulders and flips you around, reversing your position. Despite the immense speed he used, your head doesn’t hit the ground hard like it should’ve. He cushioned the impact by essentially cradling the back of your head with his hand. This is why you never believe him when he denies being a ‘secret softie.’ You know the truth.

“This is how,” he says.

You pout. “Did I at least put up a good fight?”

His silence speaks volumes.

After getting his fill of how nice you look beneath him, he climbs off you. The second you’re no longer restrained, you begin your counterattack. You lunge at him, intending to pin him down, only to feel the cool leather of his gloves against your wrists. You struggle valiantly to regain your freedom. All this does is amuse him further.

“We’re pretty evenly matched, right?” You ask, beginning to grow breathless from the energy you’re exerting.

The corners of his lips twitch upward.

“Mhm. Right.”

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 A Warm Body

Oviposition CW: egg laying Monster!Reader based on an Anon❤️ from a while ago, yandere!human, reader with male and female reproductive organs

Growling in frustration, (Reader's) long claws carved into the concrete flooring of the room they were kept prisoner.

Their swollen body ached with how full they were, going mad with how desperate they were for release. As soon as they emerged from the Earth to reproduce, a human shot them with enough tranquilizers to put down a herd of elephants, which is why (Reader) now found themselves in what was essentially a concrete box, locked in by a large steel vault. (Reader) cried out in need, craving release.

The metal door spun obnoxiously, multiple mechanisms whirring as it unlocked and squealed open. The man who shot (Reader) quickly entered, shutting the door closed again behind him. There were so many things he wanted to say, an entire romantic monologue planned for the creature he had spent his entire life obsessing over, researching and hunting despite no one else believing in (Reader's) existence. But before he could open his mouth, (Reader) had him by the leg, dragging him down beneath them.

(Reader) ignored the man's happy squeaks, ripping his clothes off to find a suitable hole. His face glowed with heat, blushing as he pitifully attempted to cover up his body. But his small, human body was no match for (Reader's), effortlessly holding the man up by his hips, unfazed by his weak flailing. With his ass presented to (Reader) they couldn't help groaning, nearly bursting just from the thought of being able to mate.

They pushed the man onto their large depositor, screaming in pleasure at how snuggly he fit on them. (Reader) slid him against them, animalistic grunts bouncing off the concrete walls as they mercilessly fucked him.

His smile and incoherent babbling was cute, but (Reader) didn't really care. It didn't matter that it felt good for their abductor, that he was in complete and utter bliss. Nor did they appreciate his erect penis twitching with his building climax, about ready to cum without touching it. The only thing that mattered was coating the insides of his ass with their protective slime, forming a type of pocket to protect their eggs from his bodily functions.

Squelching sounds filled the air as he slapped into (Reader's) pelvis wetly, creating strings of fluids stretching between their bodies. (Reader) could feel that they had pumped enough nesting liquid into him, with how round he was already becoming.

The man erratically spasmed as the first egg entered his asshole, hitting his prostate on the way in. Cum hit the concrete with the next egg, off-white droplets landing pathetically by (Reader's) feet and dripping onto his own face from the doubled over position.

But (Reader) wasn't done. Eggs continued pumping into his body, brushing past the overstimulated man's sensitive spot, bringing him to tears as his post ejaculated body was overwhelmed, fucking deep into his aching hole.

He couldn't stand or run away, his legs weak from his orgasm and his body tired from the sudden bloating from his unnatural impregnation. (Reader) carefully pulled out after finishing, satisfied from laying their first brood. The man wasn't a bad host for their offspring, still smiling through his drool and tears. His full body was cradled against (Reader's) protectively, feeling content with the new life laid inside of him.

(Reader) may have only needed a warm body, but they didn't mind using this one for the rest of their mating needs ❤️

[laurorne]

༊*·˚ VALYRIAN STEEL | aegon ii targaryen x sister! reader summary: you’ve found that your brother was better as a lover, in more ways than one. warnings: nsfw, minors dni, targaryen incest, top!reader, smut, p in v, riding, slight masochism, a tiny bit of a blood kink? word count: 0.6k a/n: man i love tom glynn carey 😭

Aegon II Targaryen is a messy brother. With his choppily cut hair and his dire need to do well by you, you find him endearing more oft than not. He is far from the perfect son, or the shining example of a prince. But he is loyal, to his family, to his dragon, to you.

He is messy in the sense that he's barely put together, with last minute gifts that fall apart before his eyes and half-thought out plans. Like the time he had the Conquerors crown pulled from the Red Keeps vaults, only to have the rubies removed and placed into a heavy Valyrian steel necklace —the steel from a smelted ceremonial blade mind you— accompanied by moonstones imported from the Summer Isles.

Your grandsire had yelled for a good twenty minutes before his breath left him and he needed to rest, the old fart. And your mother… oh gods she had nearly nagged both your ears off, and you hadn’t even had a clue as to why the scolding was about until Aegon sheepishly presented it to you. The nameday present spoiled now, but ever heartwarming.

After that unfortunate incident, you'd found yourself wearing that necklace nearly everyday, having dresses altered just to accommodate the sheer size and intricacy of the piece. You barely took it off, the jangling of the layered metal became a comfort over the years of your marriage.

Like right now.

Your hips roll in a slow, wide circle. Your hands pinning his chest to the bed as you work yourself atop him. He's flushed red across his neck and chest, cheeks ruddy as he pants into the night air, Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he fails to swallow down the noises he's making.

"Not much t- to say now, hmm?" You glance down at him, licking your lips as you scratch your nails down his chest and stomach.

His breath hitches at a particularly fast roll of your hips, his hands pawing at the flesh of your hips as he dares to take a peak up at you. "I don't have much to say, when you- when-"

You purposely speed up, lifting your hips only to roll back down onto him, your tits bouncing and your necklace clinking. The scarlet rubies catching what little moonlight they can as you use Aegon like a common whore.

"What was that, my sweet husband?"

"You're a cruel sister." He catches his breath, finally. His fingers pinching at the skin on your hipbone, his other hand skating over your stomach and up to your tit as you lean down into his face.

"I'm only as cruel as you are wanting."

He squeezes your breast in a soft hand, thumbing your nipple as you begin slowing your pace again. Edging him to his finish, oh-so slowly.

He hums, his thighs tensing beneath you as you pinch roughly at his nipple. He arches up into the touch as you flick over it with a nail, taking in the way his brows pinch together and his lashes flutter.

You surge forwards to catch his lips in a kiss, all teeth clashing and messy tongue. He bites down on your lip a bit too hard and you can feel the release of tension in the soft skin as blood meets your tongue.

You breathe out, pulling away by a breadths width as you begin swirling your hips, his dick heavy in your cunt as you watch a droplet of blood land on his chin. He's grinning up at you stupidly, a string of reddish spit linking your lips together before he cups the side of your face and drags you back in.

Tonguing at the cut on your lip as he moans, hips rocking up into yours finally. The other wrapping around your middle as he begins fucking up into you, punching a breath out of your lungs as he devours you.

Aegon was a messy husband, and an even messier lover. But by the Seven, did you love it.

[brittle-doughie]

Hi Brittle-doughie, sorry for bothering you. I'm pretty sure I sent this once, but If this has been asked before you can delete this.

Every relationship isn't perfect. There's bound to be some challenges.

How would Golden Cheese Cookie, Nutmeg Tiger Cookie, and Smoked Cheese Cookie apologize to their lover after an argument?

Apologies, Apologies (Nutmeg Tiger, Golden Cheese, and Smoked Cheese Cookie)

It was hard for Nutmeg Tiger Cookie, getting used to a different kind of life here in the Cookie Kingdom, where it was complete peace and quiet compared to the tough terrain of the spice desert she was used to.

She hadn’t completely lost all of her previous habits, insulting and shouting at cookies whom she considered beneath her in strength. Which leads to the fight you two have, she didn’t understand why you were defending these bumbling fools that wouldn’t even survive for long if they can’t fight!

She does come around eventually and apologizes after much hesitation. She’s just not used to this change in scenery when she’s been a warrior that valued strength above all else for so long, she’d hate to spit on your trust and care for her with her behavior. She’ll do what she can to adjust herself, but she can’t do it without you.

Golden Cheese Cookie was not budging on any suggestions to move the souls of her treasures somewhere else, they were perfectly fine where they were and she refused to put them at any risk. What if there was an accident and she loses one of her people in the process!? What were you even suggesting!?

You tried to reassure her that the vault concept you had was something planned for a while, you just wanted to give Golden Cheese that extra security that her subjects would be safe from any threats that would come to the kingdom. Golden Cheese didn’t want to hear it and demanded that you leave her alone…

She does deeply regret it once she’s calmed down, you were only trying to help in keeping her citizens’ souls safe. The Secret Vault is built and Golden Cheese spends every waking moment apologizing profusely, she didn’t mean to raise her voice towards her dearest treasure…

You had trusted Golden Cheese Cookie with the kingdom, much to Smoked Cheese Cookie’s irritation. Didn’t you see that another war was upon you all, and Golden Cheese doesn’t want to do a thing about it!

It was a source of arguments where you try to convince Smoked that Golden Cheese Cookie wouldn’t let anyone down, but he didn’t see it that way. If you didn’t want to see it his way, then so be it. He can do this on his own…

It only takes his defeat for him to fully realize what he had done. He expected you to leave him, but that wasn’t in your nature to just abandon him over a petty argument. He’ll call you a fool for being so forgiving…his wonderful fool…

He quietly shares his apologies to you as you two hold each other close together. He didn’t want to be crumbled again, and he didn’t want to be crumbled…alone.

[beenbaanbuun]

birthday present w/ yunho

words - …

genre - smut

warnings - degradation, dumbification, free use, mentions of collaring, choking, marking

you can’t help but feel a little nervous as yunho stumbles into your apartment all bright eyed and giddy

he kicks his shoes off in a hurry before practically running over to the sofa and vaulting it so he can get ti you

you can barely mutter out a ‘happy birthday,’ before his mouth is on yours, silencing you with a gentle kiss

it’s soft and sweet, and you melt into it - melt into him - leaning against his chest before he pulls away with a giggle

he takes the opportunity to tug you into his side, tucking you beneath his arm and pressing another kiss to the crown of your head

“thank you, sweetheart,” he practically giggles into your ear, “cant believe i’m so old this year.”

you can only giggle as he continues to joke, telling you all about the nursing home he wants you to put him in

it isn’t until you shift the hand holding the envelope with his gift in that his words peter out, and he gives you an excited look

“is that for me?” he points to the envelope and you nod, “can i have it?”

with an anxious smile you pass it to him

he marvels it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world, as if he’s never seen an envelope before

“sorry it isn’t very big,” you cuddle up into him, loving the way his voice fills his chest and rumbles against your ear, filling up your brain with warmth

“you think i need anything big?” he grins down at you, “you could give me a lump of coal and i’d be happy because it’s from you.”

cheesy boy, you think to yourself; it’s cute, and you savour the moment knowing it won’t last

not after he’s seen your gift to him anyway…

he tears into the envelope, briefly cooing at the cute card you’d given him until the little pink slip inside it catches his eye

you’d spent a few hours decorating it last night, making it look all pretty as if he even cared about the design of it

as if he cared about anything other than the three words written across it in cursive

he pulls it out and his breath audibly hitches in his throat

“f-free use coupon,” he stutters, words garbling as they fall from his lips, “you mean… like actual free use? whenever i want?

your anxiety rests deep in your chest as he stares at you with his jaw hanging open

still, you find it in you to nod, a pretty hum falling from your lips as you let him know that that’s exactly what it means; whenever he wants

“from now until the same time tomorrow,” you chew on your lip, “you can use me whenever, however you want.”

a groan falls from his lips at your answer, low and deep; he covers it with a cough but you still hear it

then you notice the way he shuffles his hips to accommodate the tent growing beneath his sweats, desperately trying to make it seem less obvious

clearly he’s more into the idea of using you for his own pleasure than you originally thought

not that you shouldn’t have expected this; one of yunho’s favourite things to do it move you around like his own personal rag doll

his big hands all over you as he flips you over and holds you open for him

one hand on the back of your head as he pressed your face into a pillow, the other resting on your hips, angling them perfectly so he can slam into you over and over again

the memories send a needy shiver down your spine, so you force them away and instead focus back on the present…

“are you sure, sweetheart?” his voice is deeper when he speaks, and it’s clear he’s trying to keep the horniness at bay

“i wouldn’t be giving this to you if i wasn’t sure, yuyu,” you say, a cheeky grin on your face, “i am your gift; mind, body and soul.”

at the thought of you being entirely his, he groans again, but this time he doesn’t bother to hide it

it goes straight to your core, dampening it slightly

“well i guess you won’t need your clothes,” he says through his moan, voice coming out whiny and pretty, “if i have access to your body for 24 hours, then i want real access, pup.”

… pup

that nickname goes straight to your core too

he only ever calls you that when he’s being mean in bed, tone dripping with condescension as he puts you in your place and dumbs you down to nothing

you stare at him with wide eyes as your hole involuntarily clenches; you have to admit that you love nothing more than when yunho is mean

“don’t just stare at me with those big, dumb eyes,” he smirks as your hands immediately fly to the button of your jeans, “that’s my good girl.”

you’re melting already, and yunho knows it

he must have a mental list of all the buttons he has to push to get you all pliant and obedient

not that it really takes much; you’re obedient for him most of the time

there’s just something about his deep voice drawling out a ‘good girl,’ that sends shivers running through your body

and when he holds out his hand to take possession on your panties, you don’t even think twice before putting them gently in his palm

you’re his good girl after all!

he brings them to his nose and takes a sniff, inhaling the musky scent of your juices; you turn shy at the sight of his eyes fluttering closed

“sweet as always, tiny,” he mumbles as he pulls them away and tucks them into his back pocket, “i bet you taste just as good, right? so yummy for me…”

a hand flies to your core, a single finger swiping through your folds to collect the juices that are starting to gather there

he smears them around, avoiding the sensitive nub that throbs in need; he doesn’t quite want to give into you just yet

he pulls it away after mere moments and wastes little time in slipping it into his mouth, moaning as he swirls his tongue around his digit

he pulls it out with a pop and an adorable, lop-sided grin forms on his lips

in any other circumstance it would be cute; right now it just makes you feel tiny

“your pussy is my favourite flavour, pup,” he says, “but i’ll save eating it until later, yeah? i have got all day, after all.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you until you’re flat against the couch, naked and exposed underneath him

he begins to move, shuffling until he’s towering over you making you feel even smaller beneath him

large hands land on either side of your head as he crawls over you, aligning his pelvis with your own

he grinds down once on your clothed pussy, his own grunt harmonising with your soft moan; the two of you sound like you are meant for one another

“i don’t think this gift was really for me,” he whispers as he grinds down again, harder this time, “i think this is just some twisted little fantasy of yours.”

his lips are on your neck in seconds, nibbling, biting and licking all over the sensitive flesh

no doubt you’d have marks aplenty by the time the 24 hours are over; hickeys and teeth marks littering your chest, your thighs, and anywhere else he can put his lips

there’s just something about seeing you covered in the physical proof that you are his that drives him absolutely wild

in fact, he’s often found himself in a pet store looking at their collection of dog collars and wondering which one would fit your pretty neck

it’s a nice thought, but for some reason it feels so much nicer to see you in a collar made of his hickeys instead

besides, it’s not like his hand wouldn’t do a similar job anyway, his fist wrapped around your throat, pinning you to his chest as he desperately fucks into you from behind

“i thought you’d appreciate it,” you whimper as his sweats work hard to spread your wetness around

“and i do, pup,” he grunts, “but your wet little pussy is telling me just how bad you want this; to be my personal cocksleave whenever i want.”

he pushes his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring free, painting your stomach with a splatter of pre-cum

“you’re my greedy little pup, aren’t you?”

he lines himself up and pushes himself in with one long, hard stroke

it makes you cry out as his tip rams against your cervix; he kisses you to swallow the sound

and when he pulls away, just seconds later, he begins to pull out again

you moan as he finds his rhythm, moving in and out at a painfully languid pace

hard and slow, each thrust fills you perfectly to the brim with yunho before he pulls back out and repeats

“but that’s okay, greedy little pup,” he grins as he stills deep inside of you, “i have all day to satiate you, don’t i?”

[blueicequeen19]

A Million Reasons

Warnings: theft, coercion, non-con/dub-con, overstimulation, forced orgasms, face fucking, anal play, oral, creampie, the works..

I couldn’t contain my smile as I plopped down in my new comfy chair in my new shiny apartment that I drove to in my new fancy car. It didn’t matter how I’d come into the money. What mattered is I wouldn’t be waiting tables at the fucking country club anymore, serving arrogant Kooks over priced alcohol and barely making shit from tips. This was all mine now. Paid off and no one could take it from me.

I had a five year plan now and nothing was going to stop me. I was going to go full Kook and make every one of those dumb motherfuckers look me in the eye when they realized I had more money than they did. They would respect me one way or another.

I grinned as I logged onto my new computer to pull up my accounts when suddenly there was a knock on my door that startled me so bad I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was almost midnight. Who would be here? I slowly got up and made my way to the door, my gun already laying on the table. I checked the peep hole but the person - a guy - had his head down.

What the fuck? I unlocked the door and it was suddenly shoved open, knocking me back on my ass before I could snatch my gun off the end table. I moved to jump back up to my feet when I realized who was in my apartment and smiling at me.

“Hi doll, how’s the new place?” He smirked, dropping a duffle bag onto the floor and not taking his eyes off me as he locked the door back. I was too stunned to speak, let alone move. My eyes moved to the gun but he snatched it up, tucking it in the back of his fucking khakis.

“This is a nice place. You did good? What did this put you back?” His blue eyes take in everything as he side steps me and ventures deeper into my apartment. I eye the door but I can’t run. He’s here because he knows what I did. I slowly rise to my feet, hating that I’m in a pair of booty shorts and oversized shirt as I turn to face him.

“I like the car too. That had to be at least fifty grand. And I’m sure this place is well over two grand a month unless you bought the place out right. I guess I could rent it out and flip the profits if I don’t decide to stay here.” He rambles on, tilting his head back to look at the vaulted ceiling.

“What do you want?” I finally find the strength to speak, my heart in my throat as his bright eyes level on me again.

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? What do you have that could be even remotely worth me keeping silent and not turning your ass in?” His voice hardens, that playful look long gone.

I bite my lip, my nails biting into my palms as I fight to remain calm. There was no use lying.

“How did you know it was me?”

“That stole my card information and hacked over a million dollars like it was chump change?!” I back up, his voice growing louder as he moves towards me, that look in his eyes becoming more sinister by the second, the ruse finally fading.

“It was easy. I just followed the scent of someone with new money. Someone not being cautious of their spending and paying with big items in cash.” He lunges with a growl, cutting off my scream as his hand wraps around my throat. I fight and he knocks us both onto the couch, pinning me beneath his weight. I lash out with my nails, clawing his cheek and he snarls, shifting his weight more onto my chest so I struggle to breathe. I fight harder when I feel the bulge in his pants. The sick fuck was hard.

“You feel that? Who knew I could get so hard from someone not fawning over me?” He taunts, leaning down to press his lips to my cheek.

“Girls are always tripping over one another just for a chance to suck my dick but not you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” I wheeze, tilting my face away when he leans in too close. It’s like a bucket of cold water being dumped on me when he throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh, wow, you’re funny. I’m going to have so much fun with you in MY new apartment.” He shimmies down my body, pinning me with weight and keeping his mouth dangerously close to my own.

“You can have it back. You can have it all back. I don’t care.” I bite out, slipping my hand out from under his weight in an attempt to slap him but he catches it and pins both my wrists above my head.

“We’re way fucking past that. Now I’m looking for payment.” His eyes rake over my body as his free hand comes up to tease my nipple through my shirt, making it harden.

“Stop—.”

“I don’t even know where I’d start. You’re fucking exquisite.” He chuckles, burying his face in the crook of my neck and inhaling deeply. I whimper, his free hand still playing with my nipple. I needed to get the upper hand. I needed him to think I was defeated.

“Ugh, fine fuck me. Fuck me and get out. Punish me, do whatever you need to do then leave.” I snap, hating the way my body heats as he sucks on the skin of my neck.

“Whatever I need to do, hmm?” A hum leaves his lips before he bites me and I cry out, my thighs squeezing together as my core tightens.

Suddenly, he’s off me and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He’s no longer crushing me under his weight yet I still can’t catch my breath.

“Strip. Show me what I paid for.” He throws an arm over the back of the couch, spreading his legs wide and looking every bit the entitled Kook he is.

“You didn’t pay for—.”

“Strip. Now.” His harsh words have me jumping to my feet on shaky limbs and quickly yanking my shirt over my head, the cold air hardening my nipples into painful points. My skin flushes under his intense blue gaze as he eyes me like a prize. Like he’s never seen a topless woman before.

“Not too bad. A solid handful. I can live with that.” He says, like he’s buying me from a grocery store. I grit my teeth, moving to cover myself but he gives a single shake of his head.

“Don’t you dare cover up. Remove the rest.” I try to look anywhere but the prominent erection in his pants or his hungry gaze as I slide my sleep shorts and panties down in one go. I kick them away but not before he sees the wet spot my traitorous pussy left in my panties.

“Fuck you.” I growl as his smirk grows and he palms his dick through his pants.

“No, baby girl, fuck you. Spin for me. Show me that ass.” I turn away quickly at the sound of his belt being unbuckled, my skin covered in goosebumps. I was so cold but hot at the same time. My clit was throbbing painfully and I hated it.

When I face him again, he’s still wearing that smug smirk but with his pants hanging open and his dick still safely tucked away.

“I could tie you up and just play with you for fucking hours.” He practically moans, his eyes washing over me like a warm caress. God, I hated this. I was painfully turned on and humiliated at the same time.

“Would you just—.”

“Lay down on the couch and spread your legs. If you kick me, I’ll tie your legs to your chest with my fucking belt.” Part of me wants to kick him just so he can make good on his threat but I refuse to give him the satisfaction as I lower myself onto the opposite end of the couch.

I barely get my legs spread and he’s moving between them on his stomach, his hands hot on my skin as he spreads my pussy lips wide.

“Mmm, nothing like the smell of desperation.” His eyes light up with mischief and I debate actually kicking him until his tongue suddenly swipes up my slit and my brain turns to mush.

“Fuckkkkk.” He growls against flesh, his hands tightening on my inner thighs as he tastes me again.

“Oh—fuck—.” I’m trembling uncontrollably, my body on fire and no longer under my control. He keeps cursing and mumbling praises but I can barely hear him as he feasts on me like he’ll die if he doesn’t. When he sucks my clit into his mouth and curls a single finger inside me, my back bows and I see stars. My orgasm is on the tips of my toes but he stops, pulling back with a laugh.

“Not so fast. You don’t get to cum anytime soon. I don’t care how good you taste.” He stands and quickly strips until he’s as naked as I am, his cock hard and leaking with need. I try not to stare but he’s so goddamn long.. and thick. I’m almost worried. I can’t even check to see where he’s placed the gun..

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit wherever it goes.” My worry dissolves into anger again and I narrow my eyes, attempting to get up only for him to shove me back down and straddle me. I’m confused until he moves onto my chest, his knees holding most of his weight as he positions his cock in front of my mouth.

“Do I need to warn you what will happen if you bite me?” He says, using the swollen tip to smear precum all over my lips.

“I don’t think I can—.”

“Breathe through your nose.” He pushes his cock firmly against my lips.

“You’re too—.”

“You can take it.” My jaw pops as I’m forced to open and let him down my throat. I gag immediately around the smooth length of him, tears filling my eyes as he reaches the back of my throat and holds it there.

I can’t even push against him because my arms are pinned beneath him. It takes everything in me to keep from retching.

“Fuck, that’s not even all of it. Look at you struggling. Do you regret stealing from me yet?” His eyes are hooded and his breathing heavy as he slides partly out and thrusts back inside my mouth, making me continue to gag.

“You will by the time I’m done with you.” His words have my chest tightening, afraid of what I’ve gotten myself into as he starts to fuck my mouth like he would a toy.

“Fuck, yes. You’ll be a pro in no time. That feels so fucking good.” His breathy moan has me trying to squeeze my legs shut but he reaches back, slapping my thighs apart and starts to play with my clit. I buck beneath him, humming around his cock as I try to speak. I can’t do this. I can’t handle it. Tears fill my eyes every time he pulls back enough for me to catch a breath only to force his way deeper down my throat all while rubbing my clit.

“If you cum, you’ll regret it.” He growls, scaring me while also giving me a thrill of what if? I stick out my tongue to try and make room in my mouth but he only moans louder, thrusting harder before slapping my pussy. I cry out around his length, gagging and trying to breathe.

“Get ready to swallow.” My eyes widen and suddenly he’s deep down my throat, holding his cock in place as he cums. I gag but he only groans louder, shooting his hot cum right down my throat so I have no choice but to swallow. My vision is spotty when he finally pulls out, my face streaked with tears and my throat on fire. I’d never been face fucked before and I’m given no opportunity to recover as he quickly flips me onto my stomach and comes down on my back. My cheeks are spread and he’s licking me from front to back, my body trembling with the need for release.

“P-please—.” I croak, arching into him as his tongue penetrates my pussy. I moan into the couch, my core burning with need. When his tongue moves higher, my eyes snap open but I’m unable to stop him from forcing his tongue inside my unused hole. A broken cry leaves my lips and I try to lift up only for him to shove me back down.

“Keep begging. Let me hear it, you little thief.” His voice is thick with need as he moves up my back, his cock resting against my ass.

“Please.. Rafe..” I whine, feeling him reach between us to guide his cock to my pussy.

“So you do know my name.” He chuckles, stealing my breath as he slips just the tip inside me. My body tightens and he curses, pushing down on the center of my back.

“Remember my fucking name when you cum. I want to hear you scream it.” His threat barely registers before he buries himself deep inside me with one go. I cry out, my pussy forced to stretch to accommodate his size.

“Goddamn.” Rafe bites out, rising up on one knee and keeping his hand on the center of my back as he starts to fuck me slowly.

“You’re swallowing me so fucking good. Sucking me in nice and deep. So wet and tight.” My nails bite into the cushion, my hips lifting on their own as his pace increases. The burning quickly subsides and pleasure washes over me as I moan loud and helplessly.

I hear him spit then his thumb is pressing inside my ass, triggering my orgasm as I scream into the cushion.

“Dirty fuckin slut.” Rafe chuckles, not slowing his rhythm until one orgasm turns to two and my release drips onto the couch. It becomes too much and I quickly try to pull away, pleading as best I can but he refuses to let me go.

“We’re not done so fucking take it. I want to see you break.” Another finger enters my ass as he pounds my sore pussy, an explosive orgasm wrecking me until tears stream down my face.

“Rafe— please—.” I sob, his mocking laugh reaching my ear but I’m too far gone to be pissed off anymore. He gives me a moment to rest when he pulls out and drags me onto his lap, impaling me on his cock so I’m facing him and forced to ride him.

“I can’t..” I cry, my entire body trembling as he begins to move me himself, his cock practically in my stomach.

“Should’ve thought about that.” He smacks my ass, digging his fingers in and squeezing the flesh as he thrusts up into me. My hands tighten on the back of the couch as we move in sync, his cock stroking something deep inside me to the point I’m practically mush in his hands, his throaty moans music to my ears.

It’s not until I feel my hand brush something metal that my eyes snap open and I see the gun laying on the end table against the back of the couch.

I don’t think before snatching it up and wedging it under Rafe’s chin, making him look up at me. My lips tip up in a snarl while his form a smirk, his blue eyes lost in a blissed out haze.

“Stop.” I bite out, blinking past the pleasure deep in my core. He was so deep like this. I could almost cum again.

“Stop what? You’re riding me. I’m not moving.” Rafe says with a breathless smile. My body freezes when I realize he’s right and he groans as I tense around his length.

“Keep doing that and I’ll cum deep inside you.” Rafe moans, adding to that fire deep in my belly. There was something so hot about a man being vocal during sex.

“You like that? The thought of me filling you with cum make your pussy throb? Or is it the thrill of the gun? You could kill me right now and my cock would still be hard. One or two more pumps and I’d still finish inside you.”

“Shut. Up.” His words make me break out in a sweat, his cock throbbing deep inside me. I don’t doubt that he’s telling the truth.

“Seems like a waste to not finish, don’t you think?” Rafe’s blue eyes sparkle up at me as his hands find my hips and he delivers a hard thrust to my core. I cry out, my eyes threatening to flutter as fire ignites deep within me.

“You want me to finish.” Rafe taunts, sliding one hand up to grip my throat as he begins rolling his hips until my eyes nearly cross. He was too deep and stroking my g-spot while I held a gun to his chin. My body began to tremble as another orgasm raced forward, the gun shaking in my hand.

“Cum all over my cock. I know you want to.” Black spots dot my vision as he tightens his hand around my throat, stealing my ability to breathe and giving me the most intense orgasm of my life. The gun is snatched from my fingers then he’s pounding into me with vigor, grunting and moaning as he empties himself inside me.

My eyes barely manage to stay open as he lifts me so he can stand then my back meets the couch, his cock never leaving my pussy. His lips find the shell of my ear as I try to wrap my brain around what just happened..

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, roomie.” My body stiffens and he groans, rolling his hips and making me whimper.

“This.. isn’t..”

“You didn’t think once was worth a million dollars, did you? Because I plan on thoroughly using this pussy. Call it interest on my new investment.”

[mx-jinxous]

He was in love with a dead man.

Steve found it ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. When he was forced to find a job after his parents disowned him, the museum was the last place he’d expected to fall in love. The museum gift shop had gladly taken him in as a thank you for his family’s namesake, though Steve didn’t try to pretend interested in the way. He took the job offer, anything to pay the bills.

His current living arrangement was his car until he could save enough money back to get an apartment. Sadly with his car payment and insurance, it hardly left anything to put back, not enough to pay his phone bill for the last few months. Most days it was a toss-up for gas or food, which was going to be a harder decision with the approaching winter. Since he had to drop out of college he’d been left sneaking into the community pool to even get a shower, but soon he’d have to find other options. They started to dwindle as his friends, or rather the people who acted as such, distanced themselves when he was kicked out. He came from money and that’s all that anyone ever wanted.

His first idea was to befriend or date, but he couldn’t use them as people did to him. So he asked for more work, playing it off as expanding his knowledge and role. This led him to partner with the elderly security, who was fondly nicknamed Grey, until they could get him a trainee. Steve happily accepted it. The old man was a storyteller, even his lectures were entertaining as he drifted into stories of his kids. He often let him wander around, and that’s how he found the newest addition to the royalty wing.

They had discovered an underground burial vault, hidden beneath the remains of a castle converted into a long abandoned church. It was above Steve’s pay grade how they ever managed to acquire permission to excavate the vault. One night on his explorations the young man found the exhibit and the statue of King Kas. He ruled in the 1200 c.e., a just ruler in a conflicted era. Sadly, he existed during a blip in history, and few records have been found of his rule.

Still, the statue was handsome and mesmerizing. It was carved from marble and well cared for regardless of facing time. Surprisingly for a cold material, the eyes were warm, inviting even. It’s what kept Steve returning, making him fall. Grey had found him sometimes just talking to Kas about his problems when he came to let him out for the night. He was kind enough to offer an invite to his home whenever he needed, fatherly. He’s what he’d wished his parents were like, he cared for a boy he didn’t even know and even fed him when he didn’t have food. It was nice but also painful.

Steve spent every shift studying the statue. The king was adorned in jewelry; rings, a crown, necklaces, armlets, and bracelets filled with gemstones worth more than Steve’s parents. It only enhanced the beauty of the masterpiece, but it was truly the eyes that pulled him in. Maybe it was the dry spell in his current living situation, but he wanted to reach out and hold his face in his hands. His body was doing that on its own accord, his fingers nearly brushing its cheek when the hallway door was thrown open. Steve responded immediately, hiding behind the nearest pillar. His mind caught up with him once he was out of sight, that he and Grey were the only ones this late, still didn’t want to be caught with his hand on the exhibit.

Taking a calming breath, he stepped out and was going to give him a hard time about the scare. However, he froze when he heard more than one voice, harsh whispers echoing in the unoccupied room. Steve pressed up against the pillar, trying to be silent, trying to figure out how to alert Grey without his walkie.

So he stood there, listening to things being moved, metal clinging. “This is a goldmine. Can’t believe these idiots left it open like this, just ripe for the takin’.” A man cackled, the young man risking it to get a look at the thieves. Three of them, one stripping Kas while the other two robbed his riches.

“Shuddup. You want security up our asses?” Another snapped.

“What? That old guy probably ain’t got his hearing aid in.”

“He ain't alone dipshit. He's got that kid in here. Didn’t see him leave.” The last guy grumbled, sounding like he was struggling. “He’s not gonna be a problem. If he tries anything, I’ll show him mister pew pew.” That got Steve sweating. He needed a plan, a distraction to escape. From his vantage point, he noted the doors were close to the men, there were no windows, and the fire escape was a sprint away that gave the thieves an open shot. But the fire alarm was on the wall, parallel to him. Pulling it would alert firefighters and police, and hopefully scare the men enough to give him the opening that he needed. It was as solid as a plan he could make, but of course, he should know that life loved to make him struggle.

It came in the form of a, “Pull harder numb nuts.”, followed by a clatter. Peaking out he was met with the king's bracelet skidding past him. That’s what gave away his safe spot, the men already yelling and sprinting towards him. Steve took off, snatching the bracelet on the way to the fire alarm. He pulled it as he passed, heading towards the nearest exhibit, Pharaohs of Ancient Egypt. There were plenty of places to hide, Steve choosing the curtain that framed a standing sarcophagus.

It was sheered, easy to see through, yet nearly impossible to see in the dark museum. He gripped the bracelet, trying to quiet his breathing when the men came into the room. The alarm lights flashed and blared, however, he could hear things being thrown and smashed. There was angry yelling between the three, Steve watching the best he could through the fabric. He could make out only their silhouettes, watching in horror as they destroyed parts of history, feeling powerless. Was this how it was supposed to end, hunted and afraid? A fitting end to the last shitty months.

All he knows is that he isn’t going down without a fight. The bracelet was a decent weight and could knock someone out with a strong enough swing. He hoped it was enough as the silhouettes grew closer as Steve braced for an attack.

A scream froze the moment, now four shadows appeared on the other side of the curtain. “What the hell!” The man closest to the newcomer howled before he fell, his partner's screams echoing. Gunshots rang out causing a horrified scream to escape the young man. He fell to his knees and curled up, wanting to be as small as he could. Steve couldn’t fathom, nor did he want to attempt, the horrifying noises on the other side. There were screams and then silence.

He could only hope that the perpetrator didn’t find him- but once again life loved to beat him down. The curtain was pulled back, giving him an up-close view of the mystery man. Steve met with those warm eyes that once brought him comfort, now a sign of terror as Kas stood, marble painted in blood. He wanted to beg, to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a whimper. The statue took a step forward and the younger man fell back, trying to push himself as far away from the creature.

Not taking the hint, Kas knelt in front of him, reaching out toward him. He dropped his sword as fingers brushed against Steve’s cheek, causing him to flinch at the cold stone. It was silent between the two, aside from the blaring alarm, leaving them staring at one another. Pulling back his hand, Kas scooped the young man up without warning. A squeak escaped him, fear keeping his mouth bound as he was carried through the blood-drenched room to the king's exhibit. There he was gently sitting on the edge of the stone coffin that had been cracked open to show the interior. The body had been removed before the exhibit had opened so there was no fear of a zombie popping up. Just Steve and Stone Kas.

Steve was balancing himself the best he could while stone eyes studied up and down his body. They stopped on the bracelet still gripped in his hands, causing him to fumble trying to hold it up to the marble man.

“H-Here! I-I didn’t mean to take it, but I kept it safe. See, no damage.” He shook as the statue took the bracelet, examining it closely. Steve sat there, just waiting until Kas saw fit that the bracelet was fine. He hesitated with any noise or movement, not wanting to earn the creature's ire. He wished to disappear, to be locked behind his car doors on the other side of the country, just out of the king's sight.

Unfortunately, that wish quickly broke when Kas wrapped his hand gently around Steve’s upper arm. He watched in horror and confusion as the bracelet slid onto his wrist, giving the man his first clear look at the jewelry. It was a thick gold band with some basic designs carved in it, a bright red gem enclosed in it. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, even Kas seemed to think so as a smile came to the carved face.

“Yeah, i-it’s a lovely piece, but sadly I’m not a jewelry guy.” His nervous chuckle was cut short when the smile fell, his body tensing as it was just them in silence once more. “Please-.” He whimpered.

A sob broke free when Kas leaned in, his cold lips pressing into his forehead. “Te videre iterum, amore mea.” He whispered, pulling back enough to peer down into Steve’s eyes. Without warning he was shoved back into the coffin, the lid pulled over without a struggle.

“Shit.” He mumbled, trying to push the stone lid off to no avail. “Shit! No, no, shit!” He screamed, pounding against the marble. Panicked tears dripped down his cheeks as he kept trying to push to top off. “I- I ca-. I can’t breathe! Please let me out! Please Kas!”

There was no telling how long he was screaming for, but no one came to his rescue. The fight left him abruptly as the situation set in. He was stuck in a stone prison, running out of air, no one knowing where he went. No one would notice him missing until much later after he suffocated. This was how he was going to die, as a nobody.

Steve went to cover his face, only to be splashed with water. He sat there, horrified at the thought that he was bleeding, but no. His body was sitting in water, the coffin filling at a ridiculous rate. He no longer had to wait to suffocate, now he was going to drown long before that.

A new panicked fueled fire filled his stomach, his legs coming up to kick at the lid. He figured if water was getting in, there was a chance he wasn’t completely sealed in. His head was underwater while he kicked with all his might. Soon it started sliding with each kick, giving way to enough space for his body to squeeze through. He wasted no time, the water weighing him down as he pulled himself free.

It was dark aside from a flickering archway, his body freezing as he took a minute to catch his breath. He could tell he was no longer in the museum, the only light seeming to be the only exit. A groan escaped Steve’s lips as he pulled himself towards the light, coming to a spiral staircase that only went up. It was illuminated by torches on the wall, the only warmth in this dark room. Freedom was near, and though his body wanted to give in to rest, Steve pressed on. His body ached, each step taken with a struggling limp that made the trip feel like hours.

He nearly cried when he saw the doorway, a light illuminating the stairs. He was ready for bed, or maybe he’d try to hit Grey up for a shower to get all the death dust off of him. If he was lucky, this was all a horny-induced nightmare.

That came to head when the universe decided to remind him once more of his shit luck. When he walked out of the doorway he was greeted with a group of swords pointed at him, surrounding him. His body was aching, fighting to stay standing as another wave of armored people came in. Trying to take a step back Steve’s body gave out, a mumbled “Fucking bullshit.”, escaping before he hit the ground. His world went dark once more.

________________

If you want to be tagged in the future, comment below.

Chapter 1| Chapter 2

[queenimmadolla]

A little sneak peak of a request! I was trying to finish this one before I got smashed but SOME PEOPLE did not like certain details, so I have to fix it. BUT this is proof that I do indeed be writing, I swear, I just grow very intensely annoyed when something doesn't turn out perfect and the way I want it immediately, so I throw it in The Vault! Just know, everything in The Vault will be released :)

𝐃𝐚𝐝!𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭!𝐌𝐨𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - angst, hurt/comfort 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 ♡

You’d expected it to be dramatic.

  Your water breaking that is, but as you stared down at your toes, barely visible past your baby bump, pants darkening around your crotch and the liquid trailing down your leg to gather in a small puddle beneath you, you almost felt nothing, save for ennui. 

  Your last two pregnancies had been quite the spectacle; your first being dramatic in itself for the sole reason of being your first time bringing a child into the world. The second time almost killed you and your baby.

  You’d been wary of having any more after that, fearful you wouldn’t be able to carry to term and the possibility of losing your own life. It would mean you wouldn’t get to see Penny and Wayne grow up.

  It brought both you and your husband a sense of responsibility with your sex life that you hadn’t quite possessed before. There had been almost a four year gap between your oldest and (now) middle child and the gap between he and this baby would be even longer at about six.

  Pretty good luck, considering you hadn’t wanted to get pregnant for a third time, at all. Yes, you had been wary before but now, with things between you and your husband as they were, it seemed irresponsible and senseless to bring another child into the picture.

  Hell, conceiving your baby alone was a miracle. All you did was fight and ignore each other, made easier with the fact that Eddie was always away. Always missing school awards, always missing dance recitals and shows, parent teacher conferences, always missing out on your family. 

  Ever since Corroded Coffin broke through mainstream music, you and your children had to share your husband with the world. More often than not, it was the world who got to have him.

  It led to fights, vicious ones. Words and insults thrown out, screaming, accusations ranging from spite to infidelity, and magazines thrown around with their intentionally triggering headlines featuring pretty women in the same vicinity as the man who shared your vows. 

  The man who once was just a boy you greatly admired in school, sat a couple of desks ahead of you. The boy who approached you and then followed from then on. The boy who was the first to make love to you, not fuck. The boy whose heart you had broken in the past. The boy who welcomed you back with open arms. The boy who asked you the most important question of your life while surrounded by a sea of high school graduates, caps and gowns. The boy whose baby you had a year after that.

  You’d dreamt of a life with him, at his side while he pursued music with his band. And then life happened, and you were both surprisingly at ease with putting those dreams to rest, in favor of the new ones you welcomed in little bundles of blankets, smelling of baby powder.

  You never let Eddie fully give up on pursuing music, he still played shows whenever he could, waving and blowing kisses from the stage at the tiny people in your arms with large headphones over their sensitive ears to protect them.

  But that had been small venues, overnight trips at best.

  Fame was an entirely different monster.

  Fame was weeks away, and on occasion, months. When you had imagined your future with Eddie as a teen, traveling the world with him, there hadn’t been a family in tow. Kids.

  You had them now, and you couldn’t imagine your life without them. Wouldn’t want to. It was unfair of you, and completely untrue, but you thought Eddie might.

[mischiefprincess]

I long for more Asgard content, I want to see the streets, the markets, the architecture of the simple houses, the protocols of the royal court, Loki's chambers, Loki's closet, I want to know what were Loki's duties as a prince, did people have to call him your highness? Where did he eat? Is there a feasting hall?

Do the princes have to attend to all morning and night feasts or are they allowed to eat in their chambers? Are there servants designated to help Loki specifically? To prepare his baths, fetch his wine and food and help him get dressed? Does every member of the royal family have their own personal tailors/seamsters? Who chooses the fabrics for their clothes?

If Loki decides to buy let's say a new dagger does he have to go to a shop or can he order to have the daggers brought to him so he can choose while comfortably drinking wine on his bed? And how is the payment done? Does he have his own personal finances or is everything taken from the royal vaults?

Does Odin have an office from where he can talk to his sons/generals and assign them missions while dealing with paperwork (like Tywin's office in got) or is everything done in the throne room? Does Loki has his own suite of quarters or he only has his chambers? If so does that mean that he has his own personal staff to take care of his section of the palace? Are they loyal to him?

How do the common people view the princes? Do they see Loki as a villain or is he so detached from their ordinary lives that they don't think much about him? Is Loki considered a good catch bc he's royalty or is his image so tainted by his title of god of mischief that people avoid getting involved with him? Do the cortiers have to bow in his presence?

Are Sif and the warriors three nobles? Are they above the regular courtier? What is their station? Does their position as the heir's close friends puts them above everyone else except the members of the royal family? Are they allowed to jab at Loki because Thor allows them to or even if he didn't they would face no consequence for treating him as an equal/beneath them at times?

So many questions, so many things to think about, I NEED answers (and sadly I won't get any bc marvel literally destroyed one of the most ineteresting places they had for the sake of comedy I guess)

[eupheme]

k08. hate sex + knife play | something’s gotta give

the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 3.3k

tags: dub con, hate sex, reader & cooper are both dicks, mutual dislike & implied interest, power dynamics, disparaging comments about coop’s anatomy, fighting & violence, pain kink, coercive /taunting dialogue, knife play, oral sex, spanking, rough PiV

a/n: I received a request for a hate sex fic (which I have never tried before!), I’ve been chipping away at it since and finished it for kinktober! hope you like it, anon! 💕

“Know what you’re tryin’ to do,” His voice is low. The drawl stretching the words out - a little shake of his head, as if disappointed.

The next is like a knife, slipping into you. Close enough you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek, words honey-smooth, “Thinkin’ you can goad me into fuckin’ you.”

(Or - when tempers flare, fighting quickly turns to fucking.)

You should have been paying more attention.

Heart leaping into your throat as the feral ghoul lunges at you - a lurch as the barrel of your gun swings up.

Only for something to catch you by the scruff of your vault suit - knock you to the ground just as a much louder gun fires, blood splattering across the floor and your feet.

“What the fuck?” You bite out - a hand rubbing at your left shoulder, where it collided with the metal filing cabinet.

You could’ve handled it yourself.

The Ghoul regards you with a sneer, his shotgun still smoking as it rests on his shoulder, “Well that don’t sound much like a 'thank you', Vaultie.”

It makes your teeth grind.

Always so antagonistic. Bared teeth and looking for fight.

You had hoped for something else, when your paths first crossed. Not so greedy or naive as to expect friends - you’ve been out in the world long enough to know that something like that was an old-world dream.

But you would’ve settled for partners. Even reluctant-but-civil traveling companions.

Instead you got saddled with an old Ghoul that’s meaner than a junkyard dog. Just as dried up as the rest of the Wasteland.

Who rebuffed any attempt to get to know him with sharp words and a sharper glare. Interactions turning into exchanged barbs that dug deep beneath your skin. Heavy looks and heaving chests. Everything inside you twisting up into knots.

It hadn’t taken long to start hating him.

Hating even more that you need him.

That he needs you, in return.

All you know is that he’s looking for someone. That they’re tied to Vault-Tec. The same place you’re heading, looking for information at their headquarters.

He didn’t know computers like you did, in the before. And you were always more brain than brawn.

Two months ago, maybe you would’ve thanked him. Maybe even more, for saving your hide like that.

“Fuck you.” You spit, instead.

Unsteady as you push yourself to your feet - as he scoffs, holstering his gun.

“That right?” A leer then - as he watches the way you wince, steadying yourself against the wall, “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.”

The laugh that rips from you is ragged, irritation melding with the flip in your stomach at his innuendo.

“Handle what? I bet that old pistol of yours is rusted up.” Your arms cross over your chest, as your eyes dip down.

“That’s assuming there’s anything left. Heard they rot right off old ghouls like you.” You scoff - his eyes dark, when yours jerk back up to meet them, “Bet that’s why you’re so fucking mean all the time, huh?”

You know it’s not true.

Had gotten an eyeful yourself, couple weeks ago. Stirring just before sunrise, to find him getting ready to piss on the embers of the campfire to put them out.

A scrunch of your nose, rolling over quickly before he noticed. But you hadn’t missed what he was working with.

And as much as you hate to admit… you hadn’t forgotten.

His answer comes with the swift swing of his hand. A sharp, open-palmed crack against your cheek that has your head knocking against the wall. A metal tang against your tongue from where your teeth bite into your cheek.

You’re launching yourself at him before you can think. A flurry of fists, your knuckles connecting with his ribs. He snarls, a hand wrapping vise-like around your bicep, as he pins you up against the wall.

“Wouldn’t be so mean,” His voice is rough and low in your ear, “If I had some goddamn peace and quiet from all that yappin’.”

Struggling against him as he pins your wrists - your foot kicking out in response, ankle notching around his, sending you both to the ground.

A rough grunt pushed from him as you land on top, thighs spread wide across his waist for balance. The Ghoul’s hands find your hips - his own lifting, as he presses himself flush.

The blood races in your veins - pulsing heartbeats beneath your skin that dip lower. You must make a noise, something quiet and hushed, from the way his eyes go dark beneath the brim of his hat.

“There, now.” The Ghoul rasps, rocking up into you again. Where he stiffens in his trousers, a languid roll against your clothed cunt, “That feel like nothin’ to you, sweetheart?”

The saccharine name is spit out, venomous. Teeth clenched, fingers pinching hard enough to bruise.

Fire licks through you. Heat lingering in your cheek, where he struck. It only makes you want to return it, a hundred times over.

But… there’s something about it.

How that as much as he hates you - there’s still the hard press of his cock against your vault-grown pussy. Whether it’s from the strike of his palm or the way you straddle him, you don’t really care.

It’s still from you.

Beneath that roughened skin, he’s still a man. Not the devil he makes himself out to be.

Maybe it makes you want to see how far you can push him. Maybe he’ll break. A sweet revenge that you can carry with you.

Make him hate himself more than you hate him.

“You’re one to talk,” Your chest heaves, “Seen you watching me. Checking out my ass. Can’t help it, can you?”

He bares his teeth, half-pushing himself up on an elbow, “Only part of you worth lookin’ at.”

It’s far from the truth, but it wounds you. Your hips rut against his as your own hand swings. Only for his fingers to curl around your wrist before impact, using the momentum to roll you beneath him.

The Ghoul is heavy - all that metal and leather and lean muscle pushing you into the wooden floor. A thigh wrestled between yours as you shove at his shoulder.

Your wrist slammed down, a skittering pain lancing through it. He pins you down, breath hot against your cheek as you squirm - trying to throw him off you.

“You fuckin’ want it.” He husks - his mouth so close to yours, sharing the same breath. A press of his knee against your core, a smirk when you inhale a sharp breath.

Pleasure sings through you - an involuntary jerk of your hips against his, where his cock digs into you.

“You wish,” It’s breathed out, missing the fury you intended.

He can almost smell the blood against your teeth. Your lips just ghost against his, eyes narrowed as your foot tries to kick out - but he only drops his weight.

Another nudge against your cunt, where your pulse has settled.

“Would’ve never taken you with me,” The Ghoul rasps, “If I knew what a brat you’d be. Should’ve put you in the ground.”

The threat should scare you. Maybe it would unsettle you, if you couldn’t feel him - full and straining against your hip.

It has you laughing, his eyes pulling down to the part of your lips as you challenge him, “You need me.”

He’s not getting close to what he wants without you.

“You need me a lot more than I need you, sweetie.” He volleys back.

This time it’s you flexing into him, nudging at the heft of his arousal, “That right?”

His eyes narrow. A rough scoff, as his hand moves - fingers spreading to pinch at the hinge of your jaw, holding your head in place.

“Know what you’re tryin’ to do,” His voice is low. The drawl stretching the words out - a little shake of his head, as if disappointed.

The next is like a knife, slipping into you. Close enough you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek, words honey-smooth, “Thinkin’ you can goad me into fuckin’ you.”

You glare - eyes dragging away from his. Caught, and you’re pissed he’s realized it.

“By all rights, I oughta just walk away,” He hums, “But it’ll be more fun to hear you beg for it.”

“Beg for what?” Your retort is shaky, spat in his face, “Bet you don’t know what to do with it.”

He growls, nails biting into your jaw. Rolling off you before his hand is at your collar again, dragging you up and onto your knees as he stands.

“Always runnin’ that mouth.” The Ghoul husks. His shadow spills across you, as he looms. Too tall from this angle, his eyes hidden, “Got a better use for it.”

There’s a throb in your jaw as his fingers dig into your chin. Forcing your face up to his.

“Fat fucking chance.” You hiss - the grip on your suit tightening when you shift, pushing you back down.

A low, rough laugh comes from him.

“And yet here you are, on your knees.”

Letting go of your chin so he can palm himself. Your eyes unable to help fixing on the strain, trying not to shift in place yourself.

“Open up.” He thumbs at your lower lip, your teeth clamping down. There’s the tilt of his head, a slow smirk, as his thumb presses harder.

“Sweetheart, either admit that you’re all talk,” The Ghoul growls, “Or open up. Like I said, I’ve grown tired of all your yappin’.”

You’re not about to lose.

The taste of leather floods your tongue, when he shoves his fingers past your lips. Three of them fanning out, keeping you from clamping down on them.

An added insurance, in the hand that leaves your suit. A quiet snick of the knife that he loosens from his belt. The press of cold metal against the soft spot beneath your chin.

A warning, your eyes dipping down to the blade, the cracked ceiling reflected back at you. Drool pooling on your tongue as he presses down, almost gagging you.

He hums, teeth flashing with his smirk. Waiting until there's the glossy shine in your eyes, tears that prick in the corner as he inches deep, before he withdraws.

Spit strings from your lips, with he tugs his fingers free. Your breath hitching as your teeth bite for the barest moment, his eyes dark as the metal threatens to prick flesh.

Giving you an up-close look as he tugs at the belt buckle. The yellowed resin against silver, an ancient creature caught inside.

His cock bobbing free when he loosens the button, draws down the zipper. A glossy pearl beading at the tip, and you know he sees the flash of teeth as you smile.

The playing field leveled, for the briefest moment.

Before his hand is wrapping around the base. Smearing his skin with your spit, as he works the length in front of you.

Thick and long. Reddened like his skin, and you almost forget where you are - as your head starts to tip forward. Catching yourself at the last moment. Head tipping up, feigning disinterest.

“Come on, sweetie.” He growls. The tip rubs against your lips, “Can’t fool me, I saw that fuckin’ look.”

A scowl, as you open. He inches inside, heavy against your tongue. Another press of the knife when you have to open your jaw wider - the barest scrape of teeth against his skin.

Expecting him to set a brutal pace. To treat you as his words did, but he only jerks his chin upward.

“Get it nice and wet, sweetheart. You’ll be thankin’ me later.”

You bite back the moan, eyes closing as your head bobs. Listening for the groan in his chest, as your tongue licks across his veins.

“‘pecially if you’re dead set on pretendin’ you’re as dry as this desert.”

He throbs against your tongue - velvet, as you take him deep. Fingers twisting in the fabric at your shoulder, his chest heaving as the blade dips, forgotten.

That hum loosens then. A barely-there buzz against his cock, as your thighs shift wider. Something that he still catches, those keen senses firing even as his hip cant into your mouth.

His voice pitches low, head cocking to the side.

“Bet that pussy’s leakin’ for me, ain’t she?”

Another sharp smile.

“Wet little thing, just beggin’ to get fucked.”

It makes you clench. Muscles tightening in your abdomen, thoughts rotten and wanting. Lips glossy, when you pull off him.

“Who's pretending? You really think this is doing anything for me?” You challenge, as his teeth scrape against his lower lip.

“Guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?”

The point of the blade dips down - dragging between your breasts. The tip clicks against each silver tooth, his eyes following.

“You best take this off,” He husks, “Or I’ll do it myself. Ruin your suit, but that’s fine by me.”

The space between your thighs throbs. Things turned fucked up along before you were born. Learned not to think too much about them - your eyes fixing on his, as you tug the zipper down.

Bare shoulders beneath. A threadbare white tank, the matching panties caught with the tight blue suit as you push the fabric down to your thighs.

The Ghoul’s eyes greedy - roving over skin. Narrowing, when your gaze doesn’t leave his. Daring him to make good on his threats.

He’s stronger than he looks. A hand at your bicep - yanking you up and bending you over the edge of a desk before you can draw breath. Trapping you with hands that splay across the stained top, caging you in.

Bare skin against yours. His cock nudged flush, pressing against your ass. You hold your breath, muscles tensed as you wait.

Only for his hips to rock against you. Letting his length slip low, to rub against your folds. A low chuckle, when he feels how you drip against him, slicking him up further with each cant of his hips.

“There she is."

Another lazy rock, until his cock fits between your thighs, hips cradling yours, "Filthy liar, you know that?"

Your teeth grit, fingernails denting the old wood as pleasure flares inside you.

“Not gonna be gentle,” Another rut of his hips, puling back until his cock nudges at your entrance, “Still think you can take all of it? Or you gonna tap out?”

You don’t want gentle. You don’t want his goddamn teasing, the words spat out on the ground.

“I’ve had bigger.”

The knife glints, and you only just now remember he’s still holding it.

“Christ, sweetheart.” He growls, even as he nudges into you, “Got a goddamn death wish, don’t you?”

The Ghoul is answered as your hands brace against the edge of the table - pushing yourself back.

The noise you make is near-feral. The sound made when you rip the hilt of your blade from a corpse, but it’s you that’s being speared this time - his rough curse worth the sudden intrusion.

This is what you needed. Something real, after the litany of veiled-threats and pulled punches.

Metal clattering against wood as his hands find your hips. A growl as you squirm - a lie, before. Too full now, you can’t remember the last time you’ve been stretched open like this.

You think he must know it, with the way he moves. The slow drag out, only to drive himself balls-deep. The fabric twisted around your thighs, straining as you try to inch your legs wider.

Making him feel bigger, deeper, like this. Your heartbeat in your throat, the warning sound coming out soft and pathetic from yur chest when a hand cracks against your ass.

A low chuckle as you bear down around him - spit-slick leather dragging over the curve of your hip, then underneath.

You jolt when he brushes against your clit. The low hum when they slide easily, tracing against where you’re stuffed full of him. Where you’ve dripped against your thighs, smearing against the tugged-down fabric.

Doesn’t have to say anything. Not when he feels how you clench. The minute shift of your hips, the way your back arches as your head dips, eyes closing.

Determined to hold out. Jaw aching as your teeth bite down, swallowing a moan as he pushes you further against the table. Up on tip toe, the angle sending the head of his cock against a spot that has you gasping.

The stretched-full ache bleeding into pleasure.

“Bet you haven’t been fucked like this,” He husks, bending over you - his weight pressing against your back, pinning you further as his thrusts grow shallow, “Is it as good as you’ve been dreamin’?”

That has your eyes snapping open. Pushing back against him, his fingers biting into your hip in warning.

“Haven’t been.”

The Ghoul’s teeth flash with his smile, a knowing look that you miss.

“Sure you haven’t.” He hums, “Just like you’re not aching for it.”

Another grind of his hips, as you suck in a breath. The slick, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, loud in the silent room.

“Just listen to her, honey.” He croons, “Fuckin’ lovin’ every second of this, aren’t you?”

Your snarl catches in your throat, as his fingers brush against your clit again. Sparks shoot through you, skittering up your spine.

“Come on. Say it.” His voice is gravel-rough, circling with each sentence.

“Admit that you've been wanting this.”

Air sucks through your teeth, the lie sweet, “I haven-”

The words cut sharply into a moan, as his teeth sink into the curve between neck and shoulder. Hard enough to bruise - the taste of iron beading against his tongue - a mark beneath that will match the fingerprints at your hips.

“I-,” You try again, as he hums against your skin, “Oh, fuck-”

It’s too much, the way you hover on the brink. Ready to snatch that knife and stab him, if he left you hanging. Pissed off that’s he’s so intent on ruining you.

Unable to help leaning into it. Into him, as the plunge of his cock and the swirl of his fingers tease at the promise of release.

Your hips moving. Pinned between his and the desk, but it’s enough. Bruises against your skin as you fuck yourself back onto him.

Panting, as sweat beads at the nape of your neck. Teeth biting down on your wrist to muffle the sound, though you can hear him just as loudly in your ear. Feral growls - ragged, as his teeth scrape against your shoulder.

Pain and pleasure lancing through you, your breath hitching as you’re dragged closer to the peak each time his hips snap flush.

“That’s it.” He croons, as another moan slips from you.

“Gonna make you come on my cock so fucking hard, it’s all you’re gonna think about.”

Passing a point of no return. Your body tightening in anticipation, a soft "please" mumbled out into the imprint of teeth against skin. An answering groan, and you’re there, with the next messy swipe of his fingers.

It burns through you, white-hot.

A wail ripping from your throat, nails scraping against the tabletop as your head dips. Your cunt throbs around him, as he makes you come - toes curling in your worn leather boots.

“Fucking Christ, darlin’.” It’s growled out - his rough tone tipping towards disbelief. Hips snapping harder, the desk scraping across broken tile.

“There you go. Knew you could fuckin’ do it.”

Drawing out the current of pleasure that pulses in time with your heartbeat as you come apart around him. The wet suck of your pussy as you gush, slicking up his cock.

You loosen a stilted gasp, as you suddenly find yourself empty. Wet warmth streaking across your skin as he groans filthily in your ear - barely able to wrap his hand aroundm before his cock is spilling against your ass. Between - dripping down wet and warm to where you clench around nothing.

A surge of annoyance coursing through you, at the realization that you’ve never came this hard in your life.

That you’ve always been greedy. That you already know you’re going to want more.

That you’ll wear each other for the rest of the day, and that there’s something deep down inside you that purrs at the thought.

He always did know how to get under your skin.

thank you so much for reading!! 💖 and for going on this little kinktober journey with me! (and forever loving cooper bitching about yapping with he's the one that won't shut up, haha)

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 6:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Canon violence.

--------------------------------------------------

The mission was simple.

You stood, picking at a loose splinter of wood beneath the bar, leaning on the counter as Cid explained the objective.

“Just remember I need that asset undamaged or you ain’t gettin’ paid.” She said, taking care to emphasize ‘undamaged’ as she shot a glare towards Wrecker, “That means no blowing it up, Muscles.”

“Hey! That was one time and it wasn’t my fault!”

Cid rolled her eyes, “Regardless. I want you in and out. Grab the staff and get outta there before the gang even realizes you’re there. You better not lead anything back to me. I can’t afford any more trouble around here. Especially with you lot.”

Hunter bristled but remained silent. It was a testament to his willpower that he hadn't yet told her off for the blatant disrespect she showed towards them.

You'd think she'd be more reasonable since we're the ones making all her money here, you thought, then sighed, but then again, we don't have much of a choice and she knows it.

Hunter pulled his pack over his shoulders and signaled the group to head out, not missing how quickly you turned away, not meeting his eyes.

***

The Marauder lay in quiet flight as it hurdled through hyperspace - the silence only broken by Wrecker's occasional comments and Omega’s responding laughter. Tech lay asleep on his bunk and Echo tinkered with something in the back. If it were any other day - any other time - it would've been peaceful. An oasis of relaxed preparation before the chaos of a mission.

Now the silence hung taught - stretched and pulled uncomfortably over the atmosphere. It was stifling. Stale.

Part of you longed for that normalcy - to take advantage of this time to go over strategies with Hunter, mapping out the best course of action, listening to his baritone words coaching you to think outside the box.

He was sitting right there beside you across the cockpit.

Say something, you begged silently. Anything. Ask me to stay and I will.

But no one made a sound.

Hunter sat stiffly in his chair staring directly ahead.

You sighed, pulling your feet up onto the chair, resting your chin on your knees, hugging your shivering bones.

Had space always been so cold?

Hunter shifted in his seat. You wondered if he could hear how your heart raced, desperate to relieve the tension in the room. He was staring at you again. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head.

He took a breath as if he'd finally decided to say something and you glanced up meeting his eyes.

The proximity alert went off as the ship snapped into orbit, shaking Tech from his slumber as he stumbled to his feet.

Hunter stood up - whatever he had to say was gone in a flash of professional duty. Time to do the job.

***

The ship landed smoothly on the landing pad - courtesy of Cid’s given coordinates.

“Alright, let's see what we're dealing with.” Echo said.

Hunter nodded in agreement, “Tech, how's it coming with that scanner?”

“Almost done.” He replied, fingers moving quickly over dials and screens.

“Good.”

Hunter pulled his pack on and straightened the bandana over his forehead.

“Alright, Echo you'll scomp in and locate the treasure vault. Tech you need to splice into their systems and deactivate any security systems they may have in place. Wrecker and I will keep a lookout and take care of any trouble that comes our way.” He glanced at Wrecker, “Quietly.”

Wrecker grumbled as he rolled his eyes.

Then Hunter turned to you. “I need you and Omega to stay here and keep watch. We don't know much about what we're walking into, so we need to be prepared to make a quick getaway if we have to. Got it?”

You nodded and Omega jumped to her feet. “Yes sir!”

***

Of course he doesn't trust me. You thought bitterly. He put me on babysitting duty.

A burst of regret tore from your chest as you watched her.

Omega hung upside down on a rock just outside the ship, fiddling with her trooper doll and a toy shuttle that Echo had found for her - oblivious to your traitorous thoughts.

You sighed, feeling the shame darken your cheeks.

You can't take your problems out on a kid, your inner voice scolded. Omega didn't deserve to be caught up in the middle of whatever this was.

“Heads up,” Hunter’s voice sounded through the coms, yanking you from a bored stupor, “You’ve got hostiles coming in fast.”

Omega looked over to you, eyes wide as she processed the information. She took a breath and nodded, keeping eye contact with you, lips settling in a grim determination. She unslung the bow from her back.

“Copy that,” she responded, “We’ll be ready.”

“Negative.” Hunter’s curt response came back immediately. “Do not engage. Get back on the Marauder and take off.”

You all but grabbed the com from Omega. “But what about you!?”

Silence. “We’ve been compromised.”

Omega snatched the com back defiantly, eyes narrowing in concern. “We’re not leaving you!”

“That’s an order!” Hunter hissed, keeping his voice low.

“No. Omega’s right. We’re not leaving here without you!” The com was once again in your hand.

“Listen to me!” Hunter snapped, “Get Omega out of there now! We can handle this on - “ The message cut off in a garble of static and shouting.

“Hunter!” Omega grabbed the com again in a desperate attempt to get him back. “Hunter, come in! I repeat, come in!”

Nothing.

Omega looked at you, wide eyed, shoulder’s bobbing up and down as she breathed, processing the situation.

Your head shot up. Muffled footsteps - voices echoing in the distance, carried on the wind. Gruff and unforgiving in a boastful confidence.

“Kriffing shit…” you hissed under your breath, grabbing Omega’s arm as you ran back to the ship.

“What are you doing!” Omega tried to yank her arm from your grip as you dragged her up the ramp, “They need our help! We can’t leave them!”

“Shhh!” you commanded, boosting her up into the storage hatch before clamoring up behind her.

“No!” she struggled, “We’re a squad! A family!”

A pang of hurt speared through your gut. Not me. Not anymore.

“We don’t leave our own behind!” she said adamantly, glaring daggers of betrayal and confusion at you.

Hunter’s words.

She looked up to him, constantly and unconsciously copying his mannerisms and ideals.

Hunter doesn’t trust you. The antagonizing voice of your subconscious snapped. That’s why he left you here with the kid. You’re just an asset. A body. But maybe you could be more than that. Maybe, upon rescuing them, the team would see you differently. Hunter would see you differently.

You sighed, “We’re not leaving, but we’re no help to them if we’re dead or captured.”

She nodded silently, relief palatable on her young face. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she was only 12 years old.

Is it selfish to want to prove yourself as more than just a useful tool?

Omega crouched by the closed hatch at her feet, bow in her hands, mimicking your own stance as you poised for action, blaster in hand.

Footsteps thudded up the ramp, carelessly clattering through the cockpit.

“Find anything?” one of them called out to his companion.

“Nah… there’s nobody here.” Another crash as he dumped a chest, “Nothin’ good here neither.”

Another clanging slam as another trunk was forced open. A loud chuckle came from a third voice.

“Ha! Hey, come get a load a this! The boss is gonna like this one!”

More footsteps, “Holy shit! Who keeps an entire trunk full of thermal detonators beside their bunk?”

“No clue, but they’ll go for a ton on the black market.”

“...and why is there a kriffing stuffed cat inside a trunk of thermal detonators?”

You side-eyed Omega.

“Ohh… that’s where I put her…” she whispered to herself, relieved that she no longer had to figure out a way to tell Wrecker that she lost his Lula.

“Whatever man, just grab the detonators and let’s go. This place stinks.”

“Yeah what a bunch of losers.”

Omega’s grip tightened on her bow, face contorting in anger as if she was ready to jump down and give the thieves a piece of her mind.

You placed a hand on her knee and slowly shook your head. Not yet.

“We are not losers!” she whispered harshly, insulted that the thieves had insulted her team - her family.

But not yours. You grit your teeth bitterly.

Once you were sure the offenders were gone, the hatched hissed open and you jumped down, catching Omega as she jumped.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” she looked at you expectantly. You nodded, practiced mind already running through various scenarios.

“We’ll track those thugs back to the compound. They have to be holding Hunter and the others there somewhere.”

Omega nodded solemnly. “Good plan. And then when we get there, I’ll keep a lookout while you search for a way in!”

“Right. Just follow my lead and stay out of sight!”

--------------------------------------------------

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[saintship]

humbly would like to request konig seeing s/h scars on his s/o for the first time :’)

fun fact i got dumped one time over em one time, my ex saw em on my thigh and was like “yeah no”

First of all I’m hunting this fucker down, what the hell??

People who get stranger’s IP’s do your shit

I’m so sorry that happened to you, that little boy did not deserve you, I hope you enjoy<3

SIDE NOTE I saw a headcanon on tiktok saying “König is NOT shy” And I kinda loved that so I tried to explore it a bit

Warnings: S/H scars, revealing of traumatic events

König x Reader

Outer Patrol

Of all the assignment you cycled through, outer patrol was the easiest on the eyes. The forest surrounding the base consisted of thin birch trees packed together, so that slivers of sunlight would reach through and grace the east grounds. Your favorite was the early morning outer patrol with König—he shared your fascination with the forest, and slung a loose arm around you when it had been truly freezing last winter.

Now, in the warmth of July, the sun casted its light aggressively through the gaps of branches and leaves, the humid air clouding your thoughts.

The sticks and leaves crumpled under both of your boots, König bringing up the rear on the narrow path.

“Do you think there are bears out here?” You murmur, looking carefully through the gaps of the trees.

“Nein. We make too much noise..” König pointed out. The camp certainly made itself known during artillery drills.

You hum, letting the air settle in silence again. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, causing König to nearly topple you over.

“Hey!”

“Sh!” You hold up a gloved hand, staying as still as possible. Slowly, you lifted the other to point ahead of you, where a fox pawed at the ground, investigating the lush grass.

“That’s not a bear.” König’s whisper nearly made you laugh, but you swatted his shoulder instead, smiling.

“He’s so cute..” you whisper. The fox lifted its head, spotting the two of you and bounding away quickly.

“I guess it’s not too loud for him.” You turn around and walk backwards to face your partner as the path widens ahead.

“Maybe we’ll see kits in the spring.” König said softly.

“Aw..” You cooed at the thought, smiling.

The path continued, but there was a faint fork that led off to the right.

“Have you seen this?”

König shook his head.

You pushed back a branch, stepping through the threshold. The path was littered with overgrown ferns, bushes, and a few fallen logs you had to vault over. Finally, the path opened to a clearing, where a small stream expanded into a large pond nestled underneath a trickling waterfall. The rocky ledge slanted down, the falling water sparkling beneath the late morning sunshine.

“Oh..my god..” you breathed. You turned to see König’s reaction; he was transfixed on the water, his eyes shining under the dark paint and hood.

“This is insane..” you knelt by the water, removing a glove to feel the temperature. “Not bad. I bet people used to swim here.”

Suddenly, König’s pager buzzed, and he was broken from his trance to retrieve the device from his hip.

“König, outer patrol..” He greeted.

“Price is tellin’ me to inform everyone off base to not come back until the afternoon; apparently we’ve got more people than we’re supposed to have on the property, and the hounds are here earlier than he thought.”

Simon’s voice rang gruffly through the transmitter, sounding irritated.

“So just don’t come back for a few hours, yeah?”

“Ja.” König replied.

“Thanks, Ghost!” You called from where you knelt at the water.

“Whatever.” The line clicked, leaving them alone with the sound of running water again.

“Well, we couldn’t have been in a luckier spot to stay put.” You stated, pulling off your backpack. You set down your gun next to it and hugged your knees, watching the water.

“That is true.” König conceded. He shed the bulk of his gear, along with his weapon, but remained standing, wandering along the shoreline. He knelt for a moment, seemingly inspecting something, before standing again and tossing a stone sideways, the rock skidding a total of four times before plunging into the water.

“Woah!” You got to your feet, walking over to him. “You could go Olympic..” You found a stone that seemed thin enough, turning it over in your ungloved hand.

“Just turn your hips. Put your soul into it.” König instructed, enacting his ridiculous stone-skipping stance. You laughed a bit, but followed his direction, skipping the rock twice.

“Ha!” You threw your arms up, connecting your hands with König’s for a double high five.

“Not bad..” He chided.

The sun rose in the sky over the next hour, you and König perfectly content with skipping rocks, wrestling, and splashing each other. All the movement combined with the beating sun made for a layer of sweat underneath your uniform.

“Wish we could swim; I’m melting..” you laid on your back dramatically, feeling the warm stones through your shirt.

“Why not?”

“Because, we have work, and someone might- hey!” You sat up, gaping as König lifted his shirt. He was careful to keep his hood on, but dared to strip of his pants, boots and socks.

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but smile at his tenacity.

“Just to my waist!” König gestured to his bare torso, his black briefs and hood being the only fabric left on him. You watched as he waded in, the muscles of his back enough to have a warmth climb your neck. You look away, feeling uncertain about ogling your coworker.

“It’s so nice!”

You turned back to see him hip-deep, running his hands back and forth along the surface. The definition of his chest and shoulders was criminal, accentuated by the patterns of light reflecting off the water’s surface.

“Come on!”

“No way!” You grinned, trying to hide the sense of dread the idea brought onto your mind.

“I am willing to use force!”

“Oh, god..” you sighed, removing your boots and socks. You waded to your shins, rolling up your pants so they didn’t get wet. The water was cool, washing away the sweat prickling on your legs. “Happy?”

“I don’t think so..” He sang, wading back to the shore. The water cascaded down his lower stomach, along his thighs. You found yourself furiously studying the pebbles at your feet, rendering you unaware of König’s attack.

He lifted you from the water with damp hands, ready to drop you in the further depths. You yelped, laughing but terrified of coming back with a soaked uniform.

“Alright! Alright!” You shouted. “I’ll get in, crazy!”

A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, which sounded right by your ear as he set you down. You had felt the muscle of his chest through just a layer of fabric; the thought enough for you to avoid his eyes.

With all the laughter, you almost forgot the reason you didn’t want to undress in the first place. While König returned into the water, you pulled off your shirt, your sports bra being the only covering for your chest. The high-waisted underwear that you wore so your belt didn’t dig dents into your skin acted as bottoms, but you were hesitant to remove your pants. König noticed your labored breathing, returning to your side again.

“You don’t have to..if you really don’t want to.” He said gently, holding out a surrendering hand.

“No, it’s not..I just..” you sighed, irritated, and sat down in the sand.

“Is there something bothering you?” König’s gentle question shouldn’t have made you shrink the way it did.

“I’m sorry I pressured you, I didn’t-"

“König, it’s not your fault.” Your words escaped a bit snappier than usual, your shame building into frustration. “It’s..there are parts of myself you haven’t seen. Things that might upset you.”

König continued to look in your eyes, his concern drifting to confusion.

“There is nothing I would hold against you..” he assured. “If you want to do this, you shouldn’t hold yourself back, it’s alright.”

His words grounded you. He was right; a bodily feature is not grounds for hiding yourself away for the rest of your life when you don’t want to.

You nod, finding it easier to just get to it. Your belt came off first, the sound of the sliding leather deafening in the air of trickling water and chittering birds. Sliding your pants down your legs, the scars stretching over your thighs seemed especially defined under the sunlight. You discarded your pants, resisting the urge to cover yourself. You heard an intake of breath from König; a noise of realization.

“That is why you didn’t want to?” He asked gently.

“Scars like these don’t sit well with most people.” You murmur. Standing, you wade fully into the water, letting the water come up to your shoulders. König followed quietly, the same depth with his height letting the water only reach his sternum.

“I don’t think of you differently.” He admitted softly. “I’m honored you trust me to share something like that..I believe you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

You study his eyes for a moment, the water around you soothing your worries. “Really?”

König nodded, then let the silence stretch its legs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you wanna go under the waterfall?” König asked.

You smiled. “Your hood will get wet..”

He hummed in realization. “I suppose you’ll have to go under for two?”

You laugh gently, swimming toward the waterfall with a splash at his chest. The water fell gently, soaking your hair and cooling your scalp.

“That’s nice..” you murmured, your eyes closed. “They’re totally going to know..”

Opening your eyes, you spot König already looking your way. The water is deep enough here that the edge seams of his hood are dipping into the water.

“I think it was worth it..”

You know he doesn’t mean it was worth it to escape the heat. Or threaten to dunk you underwater, or watch you tilt your head back under a glittering waterfall. You’d admitted something raw���deeply personal. There was a tie that bound you now, separate from that military based trust that everyone shared. With the others, you’d devoted the sacrifice of your body; your role in the fight. But to one Colonel, you had devoted your mind.