#fat team skull grunt

[soft5ku11]

Decided to remaster the finale from my Guzma WG drive. Hoping this communicates a little better than the OG one...

The improvement from october to now is kinda insane. I had only just started on my journey to improve my shading when I posted the original, and now I'm not as scared of adding shadows as I used to be :) Note to artists: the shading assist in CSP is crap.

Alt with a slight 5 o'clock shadow on Guzma will be on my website along with this drawing cause its not really a big enough change to warrant posting it on here.

[gentlerubz]

Looks like team skull's moomoo milk craze is starting to have visible effects 🥛🐮

[solitaryscribbles]

Sketch Commissions LIVE - January 16, 2024

Twitch Channel

Team Skull Grunt & Team Star Grunt - Pokemon Sun/Moon & Pokemon Scarlet/Violet

Fionna - Adventure Time

Lord Dominator - Wander Over Yonder

Brittany - Pikmin 3

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Drayden from Pokémon deciding a trainer and his team have no potential, with Drayden eating and rapidly digesting the trainer’s team in front of him before consuming the trainer. Could you also include disposal? Please and thank you.

Oh yeah, this is great!

D.rayden lets out a dissatisfied huff as the trainer before him returns his last P.okemon. This was simply embarrassing. While D.rayden believes that a firm and direct hand can guide most trainers to an acceptable skill level, perhaps there are some that simply nothing can be done about.

This one has a team of strong, fully evolved P.okemon. But he was so lacking in every possible sense when it came to skill and strategy. It really just shows that raw power isn’t everything. If you don’t know how to channel it, it’s a waste.

D.rayden has no patience for those who waste it.

The trainer was grumbling to himself, already turning to leave and heal his team. D.rayden grabs the trainer by his belt and pulls. It makes the young man stumble back and it rips his belt right off, taking the Pokeballs with it.

The trainer whips around, eyes wide. “Hey, what are you doing?! Those are my P.okemon!”

“And you clearly don’t know how to use them,” D.rayden retorts with a gruff voice. “They’d be more useful dead. So sit there and watch what you caused.” D.rayden opens the first Pokeball, releasing the trainer’s starter, an E.mboar.

The big pig looks around, clearly confused as to why he’s still in the gym. He tries to stand but winces and rubs his side. He’s still exhausted from his battle. So he has no hope of escape when D.rayden squeezes his shoulders and opens wide.

E.mboar blinks and stares down into the human’s drooling maw. He’s not really going to..? A hard tug pulls E.mboar down, and he lets out a startled squeal. It’s muffled by his face planting into D.rayden’s jaws and the thick swallow that rings out to suck him deeper.

Despite his bulky and large the P.okemon is, D.rayden’s hard swallows are easily dragging him down. The E.mboar’s legs kick around weakly as they’re lifted off the ground. D.rayden hoists the pig up as he gets to the chest, starting to gulp and slurp down his gut. D.rayden’s own belly is bloating out, stretched tightly over the E.mboar. As the gym leader slurps down a pair of kicking legs, his stomach drags down to rest on the ground, the massive Fire type curled up tightly inside. D.rayden looks the trainer in the eye and lets loose a deep, roaring belch.

“M…My P.okemon…” the trainer says softly, staring with wide eyes.

“Not your P.okemon anymore,” D.rayden huffs. The E.mboar is roaring inside, struggling and pushing around with what little energy it had. It was panicking. D.rayden grunts and closes his eyes, his gut starting to groan deeply. “Now it’s just…” D.rayden’s stomach begins to shrink down. The E.mboar screams louder as its mighty body reduces. Strong abs and frothing acids help to mulch it in moments. The pig’s screaming turns into low gurgling as D.rayden’s belly loses shape and size. Soon, that noise is gone, too, and the gym leader’s gut flattens out. “…a pile of shit,” D.rayden huffs out, opening his eyes again. He follows that up with a roaring, bubbling belch.

As if to make his point for him, D.rayden’s gut lets out a deep, wet groan. He undoes his suspenders and lowers his pants. With his muscular, furry ass on display, D.rayden squats down. He grunts and pushes, squeezing out a thick, dense log. It screams slightly in the open air as it slowly coils up. The E.mboar’s skeleton comes out feet first, mostly intact from its quick flush through D.rayden’s system. The pile comes up to D.rayden’s waist, the skull coming out last with its jaws open. With a huff, D.rayden stands up again and pulls his pants up.

“Look at that,” D.rayden rumbles. “You truly are a terrible trainer. No fat, no muscle—I reduced your P.okemon entirely into shit. It’s less than junk food.” D.rayden takes another Pokeball. “If none of your P.okemon can add even a pound to my figure, you’ll follow them. Shit belongs with shit.” D.rayden looks away from the terrified trainer to let out his next meal.

The next one out is a bit taller than the E.mboar but now as beefy. A towering B.eartic, who fell due to receiving a burn. Even now, he still looks exhausted and winces when he moves. He’s even easier to overpower than the boar, as D.rayden crams the bear’s head into his maw.

The B.eartic doesn’t struggle. Every deep swallow works out a distressed whine as it slowly goes down. Each gulp is tight and uncomfortable, pushing him towards a tight and sweltering out of death. When his head starts pressing into D.rayden’s stomach, and it smells like E.mboar musk, his whines start turning into panicked roars. It’s nothing like the tough and proud bear that had been in battle not long ago.

The B.eartic’s twitching feet are slurped down and he’s packed in tightly behind D.rayden’s abs. And like the E.mboar before it, they begin to shrink down. The B.eartic screams out in pure terror as the walls close in and boiling acids strip him down. The sound downs out into a wet gurgling sound as he’s swiftly compacted into meat slurry and a dense shit.

The pile is added to as B.eartic squeezes back out. Skull first, jaws open wide, baked into the man’s scat, the bear coils up steadily. Ruined white tufts of fur mark the brown mess along with bones. D.rayden grunts as he forces out a bulky ribcage. “This one was hardly mature,” he grumbles. “Screamed like a Cubchoo. Did you even train this one or just force it to evolve?” D.rayden huffs as the last of the bear drops off and moves on.

Next is a K.rookodile, who went down in battle before even being able to fight. He’s barely standing when he comes out and ends up on the ground when D.rayden grabs him. His thick tail is scooped up and slurped into D.rayden’s lips. And the swallowing begins again.

The crocodile tries to claw at the ground, still dazed and sore. His tail goes down fast and his ass starts being engulfed, his legs folding up. It makes the K.rookodile start roaring and thrashing more in confusion and distress. But it keeps going down the hatch, stomach slurped up, and then the rest of its body going down. Its roar is cut off as its head disappears, muzzle slipping past D.rayden’s lips and disappearing for good.

The K.rookodile lasts the shortest. The second it drops into the gut, it lets out a scream, which is swiftly cut off as D.rayden’s gut rumbles hard and flattens out. He grunts and closes his eyes, ripping ass in a rumbling fart that sends black and red scales scattering. The K.rookodile comes out fast, heaping up onto the pile of manure. His skeleton is entirely intact, forming one long and dense log that comes out in high pressure. The skull comes out fast, shit coming out of the jaws and sockets.

“That one was just pathetic,” D.rayden grumbles with a shake of his head. “I’m almost glad that one was dead. How you got so far with it, I’ll never know.” He moves on to the next, dropping a thick and fat S.colipede before him.

The big bug has been lazy in battle, not willing to listen to his trainer. So even standing before D.rayden and a pile of shit clearly made of his teammates, he remains unbothered. At least until he’s seized by the horns and dragged down. The S.colipede’s eyes widen as its muzzle fits into D.rayden’s maw, breath stinking of death.

S.colipede goes down fast. While it’s big and fat, it’s basically a giant sausage. And D.rayden has little difficulty slurping it down like one. The S.colipede’s thick legs kick slightly as it’s hoisted into the air, massive body disappearing from sight. D.rayden shoves down on its fat ass and sends the last of the bug horse away.

It’s easily the biggest meal he’s gotten so far and might be the only one that has a chance to let the trainer survive. The S.colipede trills and thrashes around for a good few seconds, its hide protecting it momentarily. Then D.rayden’s gut flexes hard, the bug crunches, and his gut rapidly deflates again.

The Poison typing is rough on his system. Enough so that he forced out another fart that even makes him wince. The S.colipede slops out in a mess, most of its exoskeleton reduced to chunks in the semi-solid mess that smothers the pile of shit. D.rayden grunts with a slight wince as his gut groans out in mild displeasure. “Urgh…Poison types. This one simply didn’t respect you. I have to agree on its decision…” He grunts as the last of the big drops out. No real pain, just a slight uncomfortableness. But the bug is gone, D.rayden is no bigger, and the next P.okemon is sent out to die.

A large B.raviary comes out, looking around frantically. It sees the huge pile and starts flapping its wings. It’s a coward, and that was its downfall. Now it will be again. It’s grabbed by the ankles and jerked back as it tries to fly. It squawks and flaps, trying and failing to escape. D.rayden shovels its feet into his maw and begins gulping.

The B.raviary’s squawks get more panicked and desperate as its body disappears from sight. It’s wings keep flapping around, up until they’re forward upward by D.rayden’s gullet. The panicked sound continues up until its head disappears down D.rayden’s gullet. Its wingtips follow soon after and the bird is gone.

Like K.rookodile, the process is instantaneous. The B.raviary lets out a squawk before D.rayden’s stomach suddenly flattens. It bubbles wetly and a deep belch explodes out of him, sending most of the bird’s feathers scattering into the air. The B.raviary comes out fast because of how little waste it even makes. The bird slithers our feet first rapidly, bones baked into shit up to its skull, which has cracked. “This one was hardly fit for battle,” D.rayden sighs.

There’s only one P.okemon left. One more life that has to end, but might let the trainer live. D.rayden releases it, putting the mighty Z.ekrom before him. He has no idea how the trainer got his hands on something like this outside of sheer luck. It’s mighty and powerful, but in the hands of such a worthless trainer, it’s been wasted. Terrible moves, a lack of training and strategy, a complete disservice to the sheer potential Z.ekrom has. As far as D.rayden is concerned, this is a mercy. Z.ekrom will be better off as a heap of stinking shut, killed by a human’s stomach, than being this trainer’s P.okemon. So he has no hesitation in bringing Z.ekrom’s muzzle to his jaws and engulfing it.

Z.ekrom is passive other than the annoyed huff it lets out as its muzzle is engulfed. It is just as aware as D.rayden over its misuse, but it is a being of ideals, and loyalty is important to it. It would have to die to reject a trainer it allowed to control it. But it was also defeated by D.rayden…and it accepts its punishment. So it doesn’t move as it’s devoured, slowly and methodically. Its large body disappears into D.rayden’s tight, slick gullet and presses into an even tighter pit behind the man’s abs. Even its massive tail is slurped up in the end, sealing the dragon away entirely.

D.rayden’s gut is well defined, Z.ekrom curled up tightly inside. Even if it wanted to move at this point, it couldn't. It is a mighty being, a living representation of ideals. D.rayden’s gut lets out a deep, rumbling groan and immediately begins to shrink down. Z.ekrom’s clear and identifiable form folds in on itself. The gym leader’s stomach shrinks down, grows rounder and softer, and in only a minute, has reduced to a set of abs yet again.

D.rayden shakes his head and crosses his arms. “An absolute waste in every sense of the word. Look at what you’ve done.” D.rayden looks at the trainer again as he begins to dispose of the last P.okemon. It’s the largest and densest of the piles. Thick and heavy logs weigh down the rest of the pile, dense bones stretching D.rayden one after another and deep black scales poking out of the brown mess. It takes much longer to drop off Z.ekrom than it did to kill it. Even its skull takes a minute to push out, and it plants muzzle-first into the crap pile with a soft splat, sinking in slightly.

D.rayden sighs out and stands up again. “Even a Legendary P.okemon is utter shit under your command. You are truly the lowest of trainers I’ve seen. I’ll feel no regret in being the one to get rid of you.”

The trainer in question has nothing to say. His eyes are wide and his face pale, mouth hanging open slightly. He’s completely gone mentally and hangs limply as D.rayden lifts him up by the back of his shirt. He’s lowered down feet first, allowed to stare down the piles his team got reduced to for his entire trip down the hatch. Darkness only greets him when his head sinks down D.rayden’s gullet.

The trainer is gone in seconds. D.rayden’s stomach doesn’t even bulge out. It reduces the man so quickly and thoroughly that he spends maybe a fraction of a second within the gym leader’s gut. The second his head is gone, he’s coming back out, cooking up on the ground in a meager pile of crap. D.rayden sighs deeply as he pinched the last of it off. “Finally…”

He’ll have to close the gym for a bit now. Get the mess cleaned up, have Z.ekrom’s bones cleaned and sent to the museum, and take a break. There was no effort in turning shit into shit. But it’s always mentally exhausting seeing so many P.okemon that had potential be reduced to nothing. Even before he gets his hands on them. At least they have use as shit.

[spoiled-fawn]

Lust by Nature {Part 2}

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 3

Read on ao3

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader

Warnings for this chapter: None

Word Count: 4,460

Summary: Snooping and being caught twice, Sparring with the boys when an unruly hit makes them see more than they expected, and a heated moment in the training grounds.

A/N: Chapter 2! We are slowly laying our good graces down brick by brick, and seeing a bit more from Price as you integrate into the team.

Being on the task force led you to believe Ghost, Gaz, and Soap, were an odd bunch, but they made it work. You kept quiet those first two weeks, having only followed Price around like a duckling until directed otherwise. Being respectful and keeping answers short. Staying in line with your designated work.

By the end of the first month, after you had earned your new name, you started getting comfortable. Seeming like a brass stick was shoved up your ass previously, the sergeants tread lightly around you, much to their dismay, to find out what you’re like but couldn’t disobey Price’s warning glare. 

Gaz was a sweet man, charming, and you could see that a good percent of the time he easily got his way. Soap was loud, and funny when he pleased, but he was a smart man who could easily be dangerous. Ghost was the type of person to respect your space if you respected his. Being more to himself in tasks or duties, he was actually more boisterous than when you initially met. 

As you integrated into the base, there had been quite a bit of preparation for your arrival. Being the fat paycheck that you are, the base had allocated a small wing of a barracks level to TF141. Whispers that the men got stipends just to be on a team with you had floated around. 

Good for them. 

There was a preemptive rule placed on you, designated by Price, of course. You were allowed to join the mess hall for meals during morning and lunch, but when supper time came you were stationed in the common room. 

The rule to stay in the common room wasn’t necessarily bad, and it made sense; Placed to keep you away from the rowdy soldiers looking for a way to warm their beds for the night. Keep your allure hidden and gate kept by the team, adding a brighter glare of the enigma they were. 

What didn’t make sense was how stupidly high the cabinets were in this place. 

“Living with Bigfoot couldn’t even be this hard.” Grunting, your fingertips only skim the edge of the glass as it leans before settling again. Huffing, finding no one around, you jump up to place your knees on the counter to stand on them while being able to finally peer into the top shelf. 

The cup was immediately in your hand but a tall box in the back keeps you from getting down. A stash box?

Curiosity peaks your eyebrows, placing the cup down before trying to reach for the mystery; Towards the back with paper plates and random birthday napkins kept for celebrations block its way. You can’t reach it just yet, so you take it upon yourself to stand on the counter, now having enough height to dig your arm into the cabinet. 

“Are these drugs?” It’s mat black with a worn-down print of fern trees over a forest floor. It's heavy and shaking giving no noise. 

“The fuck are you doing up there?” 

You don’t even have a moment to startle before the tight grasp of hands on your hips makes themselves known. Now almost pissing yourself, a squeak leaves you before clasping the box to your chest. 

It’s almost as if you’re a toddler, being pulled down from your place on the counter while your knees buckle before planting your feet on the ground. When looking up, you’re met with a skull mask. 

“Uhm… getting a glass.” Answering Ghost with nonchalance, offering up the box in your hand. “Then I found this.”

Incredulous brown eyes shift down for a moment, then move his hands from your hips to snatch the damn thing away. 

“Anyone ever tell you not to snoop through people’s things?” As if Bigfoot himself, he reaches up to place it back in the original spot, no effort needed. 

“Hey- What was in that?” You’re sandwiched between the counter and his body, reaching to grab his wrist in an effort of bringing it back down.

“None ya’.” Such an eloquent answer from a British brute. 

“This is open territory, I have a right to know.” Beautiful comeback on your part. 

At your insistent pawing, his free hand wraps around your wrist before securing it with the other. “You’re too small to even take it from me, Saint.” Ghost’s hips press to your lower back as he attempts to close the cabinet. “So knock it off.”

“Too small to take what, Lieutenant?”

Both you and Ghost freeze to look up into the blue eyes of Price standing in the entrance. Leaning against the wall with arms crossed, it doesn’t take a genius to see his chest is puffed out in addition to the glare on his face.

The body pressed to your back suddenly shoves you away and into the counter before stepping away. 

“She was tryna’ get into the box. Top shelf.” Turning to watch the interaction, Ghost gives a nod toward the cabinets and it's enough to soothe Price’s glare. Yet his chest is still puffed out.

Huh. Jealousy is a good look on him.

“And maybe something else.” Testing and taunting him after recovering from the shove, you take a seat on the counter. “But seriously, what's in the box?”

Price’s jaw sets at your little comment, taking slow steps towards you while giving Ghost enough side eye to send him to the couch a few feet away.

“A bottle, not to be touched. Simple as that.” Price’s presence comes to stand in front of you, eyes narrowed while glancing over you. “That satisfy your curiosity?”

“Somewhat. Just makes me wonder why I can’t see it.”

The smooth uptick of his mustache shows as he licks his teeth, settling on giving a nod before approaching. As if deja vu, Price moves to trap you on the counter making room for himself between your legs.

“Keep your head still.” The deep rumble makes you want to squeeze his hips with your thighs, but refrain as his hand holds the back of your head to tilt it down. With the cabinet opening behind you, he reaches up and leans forward to grasp the box.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t take this moment to rest your head on his chest, letting his scent and warmth feel much more than what the moment was.

“A gift from some friends. It’s empty, but kept as a reminder of them.” Taking a look at the bottle, it's a large and interesting decanter. Made of white ceramic, small details of blue brush strokes that mimic the plant its derived from; Agave. It’s a tequila bottle.

“So you keep it in a box, in the back of the cabinets, to remember them?” It’s ridiculous that they memorialize something yet refuse to display it proudly. “Why can’t you guys put it in the open- or even put it in your office.” Remembering where you are as soon as you look up, Price’s eyes that rival the blue paint are already staring at you.

“Someone would either take it or break it,” Emphasizing his words with a pointed look, “And we usually like to look at it and tell old stories when we think about our time with them. Oh, that's actually sweet of them.

“Are they… dead?”

A scoff leaves Price but Ghost, always eavesdropping, answers. “The only thing that can kill Alejandro, is Alejandro. The same goes for Rudy.” A short laugh follows before looking back down at his phone.

What an interesting thing to say.

“They seem like a lovely pair.” You answer back to both of the men in the room, but Price doesn’t allow any more time to look over the bottle. Closing the box, his hand comes back to cradle your head before putting it back. 

Pulling away after shutting the cabinet, he stays close. “Craziest cowboys I’ve ever met.” He looks far away for a moment, absent-mindedly smoothing down your hair from where he ruffled it. It only takes a moment for him to come back and realize your faces are inches apart, noticing the soft smile that bleeds into a coy smirk at how well his hand feels in your hair.

“Right, let's have some dinner.”

—

You didn’t often let your human appearance go, but some would say they’ve seen the illusion flicker. Most nights after a shower or finally alone to yourself you’d indulge. Like taking off a a helmet that was too tight, or clothes that squeezed you the wrong way after wearing them for hours, the relaxation to just be yourself was a luxury and comfort these days.

While training in hand-to-hand, it was quickly discovered that you were a sufficient predator. Having enough experience to teach Ghost and Price a few new things, you were often paired with Gaz and Soap as Price directed the scenario in what to do. Even if your body was stuck at your current age, it didn’t mean you were small; Having the human capabilities to grow your natural muscle added as a visual aid to show how hard you’ve worked for well over half of your time roaming this earth.

Sparring with the four others, Price stands on the side of the mat with arms crossed and the occasional guidance barked out at the underdog. You’re often paired with the lieutenant, serving as each other's warm-up. Gaz sits on the ground, eyes narrowed while tracking each movement. Soap, having gotten his legs tugged on too harshly by Ghost, sits opposite while stretching his hips as light grunts leave him. Ghost circles you as you do to him.

“Test his footwork Saint, man’s top-heavy these days.” Price grumbles, the amused tilt in his voice not lost on anyone especially Ghost as he grunts in response.

A few more steps around each other before taunting with a shift of your ankle that draws him to make the first move. Coming at you almost adjacently like the fucking bulldozer he is, Ghost reaches to hook his arm under your thigh and another hand around your back to push you face first into the mat.

Using the momentum of falling back and before he has a hold of you, you bring yourself down in a slide to avert him, but immediately transition to tangle yourself around his leg as you pull him by the belt, wanting to at least bring him on the ground. The man is tall as a skyscraper, and you haven't met anyone like him in the company before joining this team. The move works to an extent; Bringing him down to topple onto the mat, he rolls to grasp at your locked arms and slides his arms around your chest. “Little brat-” 

“Lock ‘im down, sweetheart.” Come’s Price’s voice as you both grapple in a heap on the ground. The pet name makes your head flutter with knowing he’s watching and rooting for you. He wants you to win. Always has since he first trained with you himself.

With the sudden hold around your chest, while Ghost is trying to pry you off, you manage to break it with a stiff elbow. The muted thud is covered by your clothes rustling before managing to turn yourself and put the man in a leglock. A few moments pass as he tries to shake you off, but leeching on his leg muscles signals his two taps on the mat.

“Cheap shot-” He groans as soon as you let go, gaze narrowed while stretching his abused leg out.

“You almost crushed me when you got on the ground, I earned those taps.” Reaching to grab your water bottle and finding Gaz already handing it to you, a shit-eating grin creeps up the corners of his mouth.

“All’s fair, love.” Ghost quips, earning a scoff from Soap.

“Aye, Dinnae think that's howtur saying goes, L.T.”  He calls out as you roll onto your back with a heave. The excitement from rolling around now calming with your breath, taking a moment to drink water as the boy's bicker. “You level’d Ghost?” 

“Peachy keen. Lovely, really.” The snark is evident, but Ghost moves to sit himself onto the sideline with a grunt. Your eyes scan over the others, their gazes shifting away as you catch theirs. Price’s eyes stay on you but wander over your body before speaking.

“Good enough warm-up for you?”

Releasing the water bottle from your lips, “Could have lasted longer in my opinion.”

“Right.” Price drones, and in your side-eye, you can make out a singular look of a chortle from Soap. Price continues, moving to the opposite end of the mat. “Well let's see if I can give a good enough ride then, eh?.”

Standing and stretching for a moment, your feet find their way back to the spot previously starting at. “Ready?”

Price matches your stance, but not as deep of a crouch. One thing you’ve been trying to get the men to work on is lower and shorter targets, so they’re still adjusting. “Steady.” Comes his reply and signal to begin.

He makes quick work of throwing a punch to get you to duck down and step back. The right hook, aiming for your jaw, comes a second too late as you duck under, countering with a jab to his ribs.

Before you can pivot and get into position on his side, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist and pull you into him. The second hand finds a place across your back and is strewn across your hip in a tight hold, leg pushing behind your right knee to get you to the ground.

Latching onto him, your body retaliates by throwing your arm across his chest with your hand at the base of his neck. Combined with a forceful twist to break his balance and pull him onto his back instead.

Price takes the immediate queue, still keeping his tight grip on you. Pulling you by the belt loop of your pants now unceremoniously being yanked down on top of him, his back against the mat while your back is against his chest. The ache in your ribs and lungs comes back at full force once the crook of his elbow finds a place at your neck and begins to squeeze in a steady pressure.

In a moment of sheer instinct, your legs fan to twist your body to be stomach to stomach, but miscalculate his legs trying to cage yours. His knee coming up at just the right wrong time; Your clit lands directly on it.

A shocked yelp is stolen from your lungs, eyes widening in surprise and shock from the unexpected sensation. The sound rings out in the room, the uptick in the pitch being involuntary and a sheer second of vulnerability as your body freezes in response.

Realizing his mistake, Price immediately lets go, sliding your body off of him. "Fuck, you alright?" He asks while crowding over you, the others looking on with their jaws dropped.

When you don't speak instead, just shake your head. It's enough to make Price scramble to a sitting position. “…Saint?”

Eyes wide and breath ragged like a fish for a few seconds as the brutal waves of electricity travel up your spine.

What they see is an entirely different scene.

Black horns look so delicately and meticulously placed upon your head as if you were a doll; the ridged black and dangerously sharp figures curl in a small turn before pointing up. Your hands- one on your groin and the other on the mat, have the tips of your fingers that are painted in an eerie black. Sharp talons decorate your nail beds in an ethereal shade. The usually subdued fangs now gleam in the yellowing lights of the gym. But the real kicker is your eyes.

Red irises that carry a depth of hell's fire look up at the ceiling as you blink slowly. Still lost in the moment as your lungs stutter, your legs pushed together as the initial thumbing calms down. The men’s blinking only confirms to each of them what they see. 

“Holy-”

“Jesus fu-”

“Fuckin-”

“Hell’s bells.”

Price sits on his haunches and leans over to get a better look. “This what you looked like the whole time?” Eyes roaming over in slow strokes, each end of his curious gaze begins again at the top of your head.

A small cough slips as you sit up, planting your palms down while shifting with a groan. Face drawn in a grimace before looking up. “Wha-”

“Ahm pure done in; she’s git a tail.”

At the sound of Soap's now ruggedly thick accent, your eyes meet theirs to be met with shock, disbelief, and morbid curiosity. On your back comes a set of black wings that mimic those of a bat while the tips are shaded with a red hue. Underneath those, is a long, thin tail that sways back and forth gently in small arcs. The tip of it shows to be a heart.

“Oh.” Looking down to see what they’re looking at and finding your glamour spell completely dropped to show you. The entirety of you. “Didn’t think that would be what did it.” Their silence still lingers. 

“Is this going to be an issue? I can cover-“

A clearing of a throat- Prices, you can tell by how many times you’ve heard it after he smokes, now making the others refocus. “No- No. Not an issue at all, Saint.” He drawls with enough time to make heady eye contact with each of the other operators. “Not a problem. At all.”

That’s as much of their first warning that you’ll be hearing. A beat of mumbled agreement leaves the men while the Captain’s hand comes out to offer you a means up. “There a reason this happened?”

“My illusion can drop when distracted or hurt suddenly. Like something plugged in the background then the power shuts off.” Giving them a small show of yourself, turning in a circle as your tail and wings move for more effect.

A low whistle before, “Wouldn't mind feedin’ ya m’self, she-devil.” Soap’s simpering makes way to you, and you’d laugh if your body wasn’t seriously thinking about the ways you could take him on the sparring mat right now.

“Johnny shut the fuck up.” Ghost having enough common sense to reel him back before he does wind up in your clutches. Always a smart man for the sergeant's sake.

A grin splits your lips, tail slightly swaying behind you with an excited flick of the tip. The red in your eyes gleams at the thought of a fulfilling experience, and your tongue can’t help but lick at the tips of your fangs. “We can go right-” 

“Like hell you will.” 

The sudden hand on the back of your neck catches you off guard, clapping your skin in a moment of control. Price, now hoisting you up once his thumb wraps the side of your neck, pulls you up. Wings fluttering to lift you in his hurried and somewhat dragging hold, a scoff passes your lips once he stands on the side of the sparring mat with you.

“Ghost and Gaz. Start up.” He quips cooly, his eyes never stray from you. Eyebrows furrowed in a disappointed stare, and it’s one you haven’t encountered from him yet. He’s not pissed but something has been stirred up inside of him.

“You get your meals when we’re on assignment. Do not tempt my men, because I know how that will end.” You’d give it to Price for holding his authority when faced with a creature so new to him, but the twitch of his gaze to your mouth knocks him down a peg in your books.

“Yes, Captain.” Your muted answer rings out clear for him but the shame of being publicly reprimanded burns your cheeks. His hand squeezes the back of your neck before dropping. Settling your gaze on the men wrestling with faint grunts, you hear Price return to your side a moment later as you both watch on. 

You don’t hide yourself for the rest of training. No one asks you to.

In the end, when tired and feeling no need to bring your illusion back up, Price comes back to your side while trailing the others out of the gym. Slick with sweat, your wings give a light beat of air that helps cool you. 

“Wear this when you leave. Don’t need others gawking at you.” Softness in the sudden murmur makes your head snap to your side. The fabric falls over your shoulders, and the scent of him wafts strongly from it. His jacket. 

The weight of his hands now rests on your shoulders, holding there while his eyes dance precariously upon your horns for a moment. “Leave the horns and eyes, eh? Should be a fun one walking you around like this.”

And while you could just simply make them disappear, wearing his scent on you is far too appealing right now. Tugging the jacket closer to you as you walk out the doors, you give a soft sniff on the neckline.

“Let the angel lead the pack if we’re showin’ ‘er off.” Holding the door open for you, Gaz’s brown eyes give a sharp glint of cockiness while a smile marks his lips. You match his look with ease, moving towards the front.

Safe to say, you felt like the team’s hidden gem; As if a scary guard dog, you made enough room in the hallway to make it seem scripted. Behind you and the group in total, Price watched on with a wry smile as his bucket hat hid the dangerous look in his eyes at the soldiers who stopped to stare.

A week later would reveal how much your natural form has been playing in his mind.

—

“Saint. Got a question for you.” He’d murmured while watching you work on infiltration drills. His cigarette occupies his mouth while eyes track your movements; He stands on a riser behind fake walls, a built scenario of a breach and clear house with fake targets marked on the walls and stands in dummies.

Deciding to finish rounding the next corner and taking aim at a wall target, it takes a few moments before approaching the spot beneath him. “Sir?”

And as if doubling the wait time you gave him, a childish game, he inhales a final pull of his cigarette while his eyes wander over you. Exhaling, “What’s comfortable for you?”

“I’m sorry?”

A chuckle leaves him, putting out the smoke against the fake wall. “Your form. Human, demon. What do you prefer?”

It’s an odd question but only in the sense that you’ve never been asked before. Your preference never mattered nor was taken into account. 

“I’d say the mix of the two. Just hybrid presenting but not fully between either.” A moment before, “Takes less energy.” Eyes squinting from the sun until he stands in your line of sight to offer you his shade from above. The glow of the sun highlights his presence.

His eyebrows quirk up for a moment while licking his lips. “How come you haven’t been doing so in the downtime? When with the team?”

“Didn’t feel that welcomed in our group, Captain.”

His grunt resonates inside the fake hallway where you stand, and he breaks his gaze from you. “S’pose that could be blamed on me.” The sunlight beams into your eyes suddenly as his steps ring out from the wooden stairs. Arriving where you stand a few moments later, his hand pulling out a tac knife. “Let’s see it then. Shouldn’t be wasting away while training, hm?”

Clicking your gun on safety, eyebrows cocked while taking a small step back. “And the knife is for?” Truly, this man seems angelic for one moment before the vibrating strings of his insanity bleed through.

“You’ve got a tail, if I recall correctly.” Stepping forward and giving you that forced grin you’ve learned to associate with danger. You’re tugged by the belt loop against him before he turns you by the hips. There isn’t a chance to protest before a quick rip on the back of your pants is heard.

As the shock passes, you purr at the scene and wish he would drag the knife down to cut an opening and expose your underwear. Better yet, just cut through the underwear while he’s at it. An uncharacteristic surprise is when he shoves two gloved fingers through the small hole of your pants, widening it enough to show a small portion of skin on your lower back. 

“Go on. Let me see it, love.”

Fuck him for being such a tease, he knows what he’s doing. This has to be a test, no attempt to even step away. By the time you unclip your helmet and turn your head to look up to him, your horns and eyes are strikingly apparent. A subtle movement from your lower back catches Price’s attention. Hands now full, you awkwardly set down your weapon and gear before attempting to fish your tail out.

His hands beat you to it. 

A pinching grip on the base of your tail alerts you to his intention, but the slow pull of it makes a chill run up your spine. Hands splaying out against the flimsy wall steady yourself when both of Price’s gloved hands slide over the smooth texture. The whoreish whimper that leaves you makes both of you freeze.

“Thought I’d hurt you but that doesn’t seem to be the case.” The husky melody of his words plays in your ear, adding a swirl of haze when the hand closest to the base of your tail gives a soft tug.

Your body follows the hold he has on you, back arching deliciously. Shooting a hand back to grab onto him, your lips part, shining in the light of the overhead sun. Your eyes, red irises, make his breath leave the pit of his lungs once joining gazes again. “Price, please-” 

The breathless whine isn’t lost on him; You can feel his essence of arousal already heating up where his hands hold your tail. You dare to arch your back by a fraction more and press into him.

Clearing his throat once your ass is flush with the buckle of his pants, he releases only one hand to hold your hips. “Back to your drills. Now.” Before taking his leave around the corner of the makeshift walls.

The burning desire is never satiable for a succubus, and it’s the reason you were gifted your powers. To get what you wanted. Patience is a virtue, but wrath and lust have always been more fun.

[ultimatecutenesspeaks]

As soon two grunts appear a boy and a girl as they do they silly pose as the grunt 1 goes to battle gladion stops them gladion just give it up already grunt 1 huh ? Gladion you know you can’t beat me you are just going to get your Pokémon hurt with no reason

Grunt B: We came all this way, and for what? For a big fat waste of our time, thanks to you. If you hadn't gotten in our way, we could've stolen the Totem Pokémon from Brooklet Hill! Let's get out of here. Look, the Murkrow are crying, and it's time we should be flying.

*She sook turns and walks away as Grunt A glances behind him at Gladion.*

Grunt A: Listen up good, Gladion. The boss does like you, that's true. But you're just some hired help we keep around for when we need you. You aren't part of Team Skull, not really. And you never will be. Got it? You better get it?

*He soon turns and walks away as well, and Gladion says nothing as he follows behind. Mizuki sucks in air through her teeth as she watches them go.*

Mizuki: Oof. Infighting, huh? For a team like that, I guess I'm not surprised.

[mewantdemonboydelight]

Cosplayed with a friend !! ( @sexocelot )at Sakura con 2018!! If you got pictures feel free to tag me!

[cannibalcreepers]

First kiss with the hiliker brothers separately

Aww first kisses with the booooois UwU 

4111 word count

 hopefully you guys enjoy it ^ ^  -------- One-Eye: 

Soft. 

He is so soft, his skin, his hair, his hands, his gaze and gosh his lips, those were the most softest part of this adorable man. But also stinky, sweaty and a little slimy that smelt of sour cheese, no matter how gross he was, One-Eye was like velvet, smooth and soft to the touch, very unlike his two brothers that seemed to be so hardy and covered in wrinkles and calluses. 

So it was no surprise to you when you first placed your lips against his, they were amazingly soft, gentle and inexperienced. You hadn’t really meant to kiss him at the start, it truly was an accident that turned into something you have secretly been desiring ever since coming across the three brothers and you were over the moon that the first of the three was One-Eye. The two of you were doing washing duties, usually you did it on your own or Three-Fingers would do the chore, but today One-Eye wanted to help you since there were some extra loads after the four of you took out a school bus filled to the brim with a college football team, which meant cleaning up any of their stinky clothing for the three boys to wear or use. You were arms deep in scrubbing some pants while One-Eye sat patiently beside you, only handing you dirty clothes and taking the wet ones to put into the other basket. He was such a helpful man, beaming all the while you talked about random stories from your past or some trivia you knew about, sure One-Eye didn’t understand but he was hanging on every word that left your pretty mouth. As you continued on rattling about the types of birds that collected items to woo their female counterparts, you wracked your knuckles against the side of the washing bucket and let out a hiss from how sore it felt, due to how raw and soaked up your skin had gotten from the water. You shook your hand and held it against your chest, having an annoyed look on your face, One-eye reaching over to touch your sore hand gently and let out soft murmurs, lifting your hand up to press a small kiss against the redness, making your cheeks just as flushed. “Thank you, you’re so lovely” You whispered to the cannibal, causing him to give you a large, goofy smile at being able to make you feel better. With your hand now better, being as it was not really that bad of a bump, you went to reach down into the water to grab the scrubber, not realizing One-Eye was doing the same to be helpful, you looked his was in surprise exactly the same time he did and bumping your faces together. Though not only did you smack cheeks but your lips had grazed over each other making you both lean back in surprise, shyness hitting you both at what just happened. One-Eye was first to react, letting out a small nervous snorted laugh, as though what just happened was a silly accident, his eye glancing away and then back at your face as though waiting to see how you would react to the incident. You had taken in a small sharp breath as so many thoughts rushed through your brain, but the loudest was screaming ‘Fucking Kiss Him!’ and so you did. You practically attacked the cannibal's face, hands lashing out and grabbing onto his cheeks, his face going from shy nervousness to complete shock at you coming at his face like this, eye going wide and his arms going up as though he was going to protect himself from an attack. Your lips pressed up against his, unmoving as you both were still against each other until you stopped to get a gasp of air. You had not yet kissed any of the boys since they took you, only just five weeks ago this man you were pressing up against almost ran a pole through your skull and now you were staring into his blue eye that looked surprised by your bold action. Sure you had fucked, or more like been fucked, licked, bitten, grabbed at and pushed around by the other two, with One-Eye not yet joining in possibly out of unsureness or shyness, you assumed as you really didn’t know why he didn’t at least attempt to fuck you like his brothers did. But none had ever properly kissed you either, so the fact that this gentle giant was now the first to kiss your lips was heartwarming, in a twisted way. The man reached up slowly to press his fingers against your bottom lip, tracing over the plumpness and across your cheek until he cupped it, his eye staring at your features as he leaned in closer and continued the kiss, going in soft at the start before pushing it into something more deeper and hungrier, as though he was pent up with need and want, hands moving from your face to your waist to drag you against his body. He was so soft, but his gentleness was starting to tighten and hurt, your pleased moans turning into pained gasps as his grip began to bruise your skin. You had to stop him, pushing back against his chest and speaking sternly “No!….no, not so rough ok”. Your tone surprised the man, his aggressive lusting melting back into his submissive, confused self, his head tilted and expression showing he didn’t understand what he did wrong. “Oh….hun, I…. you were just being a bit rough that’s all” you whispered “You just need to be more gentle, ok?” He nodded in agreement as you stroked his chest gently, leaning in to place a small peck on his nose which caused that lovely goofy smile to come again. “Going to be hard to not want to kiss you all the time now” After a few more kisses, this time more gentle and soft again, you two would return back to finishing the washing, not wanting to receive a stern chiding from Three-Fingers for slaking on the chores. --- Saw-Tooth: Itchy, rough and calloused, this man’s touch was always so intense, even just moving you around left small bumps and bruises on your skin. At the start of living with the three brothers Saw-Tooth would handle you like you were some toy, his expression so tense and he always scowled as he shoved and pushed you around whenever he wanted to have you do something, unlike his usually grunts and gestures to his brothers, mostly the reason he manhandled you so much was simply because he enjoyed feeling your softer skin under his damaged, rough hands. The large man had never kissed you, even when he placed himself onto you or touched you in any sexual manner, Saw-Tooth would always turn his head to the side if your faces ever came into close contact, eyes shifting down or to look elsewhere on your body, as though he was not ready for such an intimate act while you both were just letting out your pleasures. The closest he has ever gotten was running his slimy, fat tongue along your neck and up to your cheek, which may as well be a guilty pleasure of yours despite how grossly stinky their breaths were. It was now week 5, a whole month and 1 week had passed since you began your new life with the three boys and things were looking better than they were from week 1. You’ve proven yourself more freedoms, though there was always one of the boys by your side at all times, you were allowed a little bit of privacy when going to the bathroom or having a little nap inside the hut, but outside you were always watched and supervised. The pushing and bullying had gone down a bit, as though the excitement of a new plaything had died down and they were becoming comfortable with a fourth person living amongst them. Saw-Tooth was still forceful and gave you a bit of a stank-eye here and there whenever you did something odd or stupid, even if it amused the other two boys. You were mostly always watched by one of the younger boys, but today was the rare chance of Saw-Tooth watching you and it was purely not his choice. The large brute had gotten two make-shift spears through his thigh and hip thanks to some very determined hikers who fought back, though it was all in vain as all had ended up being slaughtered and stored to be the next few days’ meals. So now Saw-Tooth sat on the large wooden chair on the hut’s porch, a glass of unknown red fluids in one hand and his damaged leg covered in bandages, his eyes watching you craft some new arrows. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head, wondering why he couldn’t just stare into the scenery instead of making your feel scrutinized and judged, even if he was simply just staring it was making it difficult for you to work on the fletching of the arrows you were crafting, with a annoyed mumble you looked back at the staring giant and raised a brow. “Is there something you need or are your eyes just glued staring towards me?” You snarked, a little cheeky grin splattered on your face. The big cannibal let out a short huff and narrowed his eyes, but he kept his gaze on you as he lifted a hand and gestured for you to come over, in which you complied though you stilled let out a few annoyed grumbles that you were being disrupted, but it was better to do as you're told than anger a very wild beast, not that you think Saw-Tooth would ever kill or maim you for simply ignoring him but he sure would leave a large hand mark from where he may grab and pull at you. 

When you walked over and were at grabbing range, he reached over and took hold of your arms in a surprisingly gentle way, pulling you towards him so that you straddled his good leg, his hands moving from your arms to rest on your hips instead, thumbs pushing your shirt up to rub at your skin. “I don’t think your legs healed up enough for any rough action” You commented, putting your hands on his chest to keep yourself propped up, watching his expression to see how he would react to you slowly explore his features. He was definitely not a pretty man, he was always so sweaty and hairy, covered in scars, lumps and either drool or blood, it being his own or a victim you'd never know. Your hands would caress up past his neck towards that shaggy, tangled up beard of his, always dirty and filled with fluids or dirt, he smelt as bad as he looked but by now you were getting used to the scent, he would only close his eyes and let out a soft grumble when you pressed you thumb against his jaw and traced the bone structure towards his ear and past up into his messy hair, feeling how oily and tangled it was. He was silently enjoying the gentle caresses and affection, allowing you to run your fingers through his hair and drag your nails along his scalp causing him to let out a more deeper groan at how wonderful it felt. You were smiling to yourself at how much control you were currently having over the usually cruel giant, how he was just melting like butter under your touch. Biting at your bottom lip, you took the chance to run your hands back down towards his mouth, the exposed flesh and teeth from where his upper lip was so deformed it gave the man a forever scowling expression, pressing your thumb against his bottom lip caused Saw-Tooth to open his mouth and trace his tongue along your thumb, his dark eyes now open and stared into your own which made your breath hitch in surprise at how gentle he was being right now, considering every other time you felt like you were almost going to die with how rough he always was. You had to take the chance now, with how relaxed and sweet Saw-Tooth was currently being, you knew you would never get such a rare moment for a very long time. Removing your thumb from his wandering tongue and large bottom lip you placed both hands on the sides of the man’s face, checking his reaction to see if he was going to pick up on what you were planning and throw you off, but there was nothing other than a blank calmed expression.  So with sharp intake of breath you leaned in fast and closed your eyes as you were heading in towards his mouth, the large cannibal’s brows going up in surprise but he did not move away or make a sound as your lip clashes against his exposed teeth and enlarged bottom lip. It was not exactly the softest kiss, his taste was sour and oddly meaty, with how deformed his mouth was you didn’t really expect much action for a kiss, but when Saw-Tooth began to shift your eyes shot open and you were about to get off the man only to be stopped as he wrapped his large arms around your back and pulled you in deeper against his body and mouth, opening it up to drag his tongue along your lips, forcing it past them to get inside. You didn’t struggle against Saw-Tooth, you knew better than that, it was better to comply and welcome his advances, which to be honest was not really that bad of an idea with how sensual and intimate the large cannibal was being for once. His grip was usually so harsh and tight, but at this moment he was being so gentle, you were surprised that he wasn’t squeezing the life out of your body with how his arms enveloped you, his tongue rolling against your own causing you to let out moans, you eyes had once against shut as you soaked in the loving attention. But like all things in this forest, it was short lived.  A sharp, high-pitched laugh snapped you out of your hot and bothered state, almost causing you to bite down on Saw-Tooth's tongue as you pushed back off him and out of his arms in surprise at being caught by a snickering, grinning Three-Fingers and wide-eyed One-Eye. The eldest brother let out a displeased grunt and shot the youngest a frustrated look as he giggled and babbled in a mocking way before pointing to four dead bodies the two of them had just dragged from the forest, this catching Saw-Tooth’s attention enough to slowly get up and help the boys with the fresh meat. You were quite flustered and just as frustrated, letting out small huffs and muttering under your breath about their bad timing, but work was work and you had to return to crafting the rest of those arrows, plus you knew once the large man was finished helping he was going to give you more than just a kiss. --- Three-Fingers: Cruel, cunning and conniving. The youngest Hilliker was an evil little weasel, always skittering around and giggling his manic laugh, he was terrifyingly accurate with his kills and hunts, if you hadn’t been taken in you knew you’d be slaughtered like a pig. But now it was week 5 with living with them, you had proven yourself trustworthy enough to take on hunts and killing people, as well as basic chores to earn your right to belong in their strange mutant family and now you were currently on a walk with the thinly, small cannibal to check on the traps littered around the forest. The first time you went on trap checking with Three-Fingers, he was very pushy and snappy with you at times, though still showed patience as he understood you were new to this type of work and had to learn. Now though, you could handle the traps without being watched over, you were quick and diligent when setting them up and though you didn’t need it, you loved whenever Three-Fingers came over and praised you with shoulder pats and happy chittering noises. The two of you had spent almost four hours going around checking the perimeter of the forest, reaching the area of the large waterfalls, the sky was starting to darken with heavy grey clouds, you were looking up at them as Three-Fingers was tightening a trip wire. “Hey….I think we should start heading back, looks like it’s going to start raining” you piped up, looking over at the youngest Hilliker as he finished off with the trap and made his way over to you, glancing up at the sky as well, baring his teeth slightly as he nodded and let out a few incoherent grumbled words which you assumed was a ‘yeah, let’s go back’ You doubted you both would make it back to the hut in time, the clouds above growing darker and angrier to the point it had pushed both you and Three-Fingers to start running, but nature was not having it and heavy rains started falling from the sky, a crack of lightning following right after. The two of you were soaked like drowned rats and home was still another hour and half walk away, your shoes completely filled with water with mud all over your legs, you knew if you stayed out in the rain any longer you were definitely going to catch a cold. Three-Fingers was looking around frantically, grabbing your hand as he pulled you through the density of the forest, you trusted his sense of direction, but there was still a slight doubtfulness in the back of your mind saying that he got you both lost, thankfully that doubt was squashed out when you saw  the small cannibal had taken you both to a cave, pulling you under the rocky cover. The both of you were quick to start a fire and get your wet clothes off until you both were just in your underwear, which mostly consisted of you wearing a dirty undershirt and some fairly loose, dirty, boxers whilst Three-Fingers had the most nastiest tighty-whities on, or what should be whities as they were no longer white and now stained in multiple colours of brown, yellows and red, despite your attempts to washing their clothing the stains never came out. You were huddled around the fire, hands out to feel the warmth as you shivered, the rain heavier than ever with the lighting cracking across the sky, you were trapped until the storm passed, it wasn’t safe to travel in such a heavy storm in the mountain forest after all. The scrawny cannibal had settled right next to you, watching as you shivered from the cold so he scooted closer and reached one of his arms around you and pulled you in close to cuddle up. He was such a boney, thin and pasty man unlike his more plumper, larger brothers, but that didn’t stop his hugs and cuddles from being just as warm and soft. You leaned in close to Three-Fingers, feeling his oversized deformed fingers wrap around your shoulder and pull you in against his pasty chest which you placed your head against and stared into the fire. Despite the situation, it was almost romantic, sitting by the campfire and holding onto each other, the two of you rarely ever got to have such simple, quiet moments when it was always so hectic at the hut with the brothers and even when you both did get more private alone time it was always short lived, though at least with Three-Fingers, sex was much more gentler than with Saw-Tooth, but it was still just as intense, and just like his brothers, he never really gave you a proper kiss other than running his tongue over your cheek or biting your neck. A large crack from the lightning snapped you from your thoughts, looking out the entrance of the cave at the rain, Three-Fingers chittering softly and running his deformed hand through your hair. “I’m all good, it’s just cold” You said softly, looking up at the cannibal with a sweet smile who responded by leaning in and placing a small peck on your lips which was a surprise for so many reasons and by how the cannibal cackled your reaction must have been priceless. This cheeky bastard thought he could place his very first proper kiss on you so lightly and like it was nothing, oh no he was not getting away with it and you voiced that very loudly to him as you grabbed the sides of his face quickly “Oh no you don’t, we’re doing this now” You laughed, attempting to pull Three-Fingers down to give him a proper kiss, but the man was giving you a bit of a struggle as he bared his teeth in a playful manner and leaning as far back away from you as he could, letting out his signature laugh as you started to wrestle the man  for that good kiss. “Hey! Get your scrawny ass here and let me lay one on you!” You were trying to pin the wriggling Three-Fingers but only being able to land the kisses on his cheek or nose. You finally were able to pin him down long enough to narrow your eyes and go in for one more strike, if you missed this was going to be the last time and it seemed the man knew this too as he stopped struggling and accepted your smooches that you have been so aggressively trying to place on him. Finally being able to place a kiss on the toothy feral cannibal was satisfying, you would finally get to taste and feel him against your lips and to be honest it was not exactly the best but it was the best you’d ever get in your current situation. Just like his brothers, Three-Fingers taste so sourly disgusting, like you were kissing a rotten cheese carcass that had sharp teeth and a perverted tongue that was currently pushing itself into your mouth. He was making the kiss deep, his hands reaching up to tangle through your hair, his long pointed nose pressed up against your cheek. You laid atop of him, heart beating and face flushed, completely ignoring your surroundings for the passionate kiss with the deadly murderer that the both of you hadn’t even realized the storm had passed on. A deep moan lifted from your lips as Three-Fingers hands started to explore your body, his mouth leaving love bites along your jawline and towards your neck, forcing you to sit up more and straddle him. He grabbed the ends of your undershirt and you began to lift your arms up to allow him to take it off only to let out a yelp as something bit your thigh. You looked down to see what in the world was making your leg itch and feel sore only to see that during the passionate kissing you both had rolled onto an ants nest that had now gotten riled up and the ants began attacking by biting you both. You let out another ‘ow!’ as you got bit again and jumped up from the ground, swiping at your legs and helping Three-Fingers to his feet who was doing the same, scowling all the while at the mood being killed by a bunch of insects. “Christ…damn it.....” You hissed, looking around at the ground and then towards the fire by the entrance, noticing that there was no more storm. “well at least the rain stopped.” You pointed out, rubbing at your now sore red bite marks, the ants were harmless but their bites still itched. “Let’s get dressed and head back, rub some creams on these…” Though he was annoyed, Three-Fingers nodded in agreement, his poor bottom had gotten attacked by those little bastards and now itched like crazy, but the thought of you rubbing cream all over it ass cheeks lifted up his spirits. The both of you would put on your now, slightly drier, clothing and kick the fire out. It was a long walk, but you both eventually made it back to the hut and you both couldn’t wait to lay down on the bed and wrapped each other in the warm blankets, right after tending to your little ant bites. 

[littlefreya]

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira​ for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer. 

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes. 

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.  

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just…  two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.   

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance. 

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind. 

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded. 

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child. 

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries. 

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them. 

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it. 

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.” 

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening. 

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today,  no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown. 

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round. 

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now. 

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles. 

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye. 

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults. 

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.” 

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told. 

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire. 

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down. 

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?” 

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.  

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat. 

“Fuck!” 

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor. 

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading. 

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife. 

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance. 

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

 “Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”     

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby 

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal. 

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.” 

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin. 

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain. 

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.  

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly. 

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. . 

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest. 

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.” 

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me. 

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees. 

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly. 

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him. 

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…”  he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms. 

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.  

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.” 

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again. 

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now. 

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine. 

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name. 

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 3: Fly, Little Bird  (Written Chapter)

word count: 1.2k

Tendou never thought himself to be a selfless person. He didn't really consider himself a selfish person either, necessarily, but he promised himself a long time ago that he wasn't going to set aside his own dreams for the comfort of someone else. His ambition always came first, and the endgame had always been Paris. He supposed, in a way, that had never changed - so why was there a familiar pool of guilt settling at the pit of his stomach? 

The corner of his lips tugged downward at the slight, involuntary tremor that rippled through his hands - the ivory envelope with gold trim, 'La Maison du Chocolat'  written in a delicate golden font across its center clutched in between them. You knew about Paris - about his dreams, his ambitions - and not once have you given him any reason to doubt that you would regard this news in any way other than with a painfully large grin and arms spread impossibly wide, pride radiating off you like a sunbeam. So why...guilty. Thoughts wandered to the pickle jar. The drunken nights on the balcony of your tiny apartment; stupid, cheesy French music playing on one of your phones as the two of you laughed and talked about what Paris would mean for the both of you. Tendou knew exactly what to say every time, but when the conversation trailed back to you, you would grin, sometimes laugh, but your answer was always the same - 'I'll figure it out when I get there. I don't really care as long as I'm with you'.

Ah. There it was.

Paris was his dream. Not yours.

'I'll follow you anywhere, Ten.’

Even if it wasn't what you wanted.

He was neither a selfless nor selfish person, but he knew you, and you were as selfless as they came. You would give up everything you’ve worked so hard for to follow him if he asked, completely setting aside your own whims to entertain his. Tendou shoved the envelope into his bag and hurried up the stairs to your apartment, trying desperately to will away the unwanted feeling that gnawed at him as he flashed you his usual Cheshire grin.

 In 12 months, he would be leaving for Paris to begin a paid apprenticeship with one of the most famous Parisian Chocolate Boutiques, working directly under the famous Sculptor and Chocolatier Patrick Roger himself - and you would not be going with him.

There wasn’t any way to break that news to you now, not when you were still so unwilling to stand on your own. He knew he needed to nudge you out of the nest the two of you built, reminding you of your independence, and hopefully, the will to chase your own dreams. He grabbed the pickle jar from under the sink, took a little extra from his own savings, and began the search to find you a new nest, one with more room for you to finally learn to fly. 

“I’m sorry, you what?” Your body twisted toward him at the news, eyes bulging out of your skull. 

“I bought a new location. In Osaka! Trendy neighborhood, good lighting, pretty cheap actually-”

“When?! How?! With what-” your voice died in your throat as you picked yourself off the floor and scrambled to the kitchen. You ripped open the cabinet underneath the sink and fished around, a grunt of victory leaving you as you felt your fingers clasp around the familiar lid. Successfully retrieving the pickle jar from the depths of the cabinet, the faint glow of the kitchen light brought the full makeshift bank into view, and you couldn’t help but gawk when you saw its emptiness. 

“Tendou, why...” Your voice trailed off as your brain began to flood with worry. What made him decide to just buy a new location without talking to you first? It’s not like you would have said no. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of betrayal at the notion that he didn’t value your opinion as a business partner. Feet pattered against the linoleum as he rushed to stand in front of you, and your lifted your eyes to lock onto his own. The usual mirth that accompanied his features was ever present, but you knew him well enough to see the tiny sheen of something else that rippled over his features. Guilt?

“Paradis, it’s nothing against you, I promise. I just...I wanted it to be a surprise,” he explained, crouching down so he could maintain an even eye level with you. “I forgot you’re not a huge fan of them.” Your lack of response was probably beginning to gnaw at him, you thought, but whenever you tried to come up with something to say, it fizzled before it could reach your tongue.

“I saw your notebook, Y/n,” he mumbled. “You have so many plans for Paradis, and they’re all amazing! This new place has all the room to make your ideas on the page come to life. You could have a dining area, expand the menu, try new crazy things - this location can be your passion project; your baby.”  

Spontaneity wasn’t a new trait for Tendou. There were days where he would come home, tell you to collect your things, and wisk you away on a road trip for two days with no destination in mind, no other notice except a quick text to the team to take care of the shop while you two were away. Generally, you didn’t mind his antics, but this seemed next level, and you couldn’t ignore the feeling that it came with ulterior motives. 

Something else nagged at the back of your mind too - if you were going to Osaka, was Tendou coming with you? Was he staying here? What about the apartment? There’s no way he can keep it up himself. How did he get the money for a location in Osaka of all places-

Your brain shut down the moment Tendou’s finger poked in between your eyebrows.

“Paradis, you’re gonna get wrinkles. I already took care of everything, so ask me whatever you wanna know.” You sat on his words for a moment, rifling through the growing number of questions to deem which one most important.

“Are you coming with me?” His silence was loud enough to answer for him, and you looked down. You haven’t done any of this on your own before. You’ve always had someone’s arm held out to you to hang onto whenever life tried to rear its ugly head and swallow you. 

“I won’t be able to do it all myself, Ten.” Tendou frowned. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Y/n. You can always call me if you end up stuck. Also,” he pulled out his phone as if to confirm his next words. “Kuguri has been wanting to move out of Tokyo for a fat minute now. He said he’s totally down to go with you.”

The news of Kuguri accompanying you lifted a huge amount of pressure off you. At least you weren’t going up there alone. Your thoughts drifted to the potential Osaka had just granted you; A new opportunity, a blank slate for your ideas to come to life. You could finally try things you’ve always wanted to with this new location. The worry that plagued you began to dissipate, excitement taking over as you brought your eyes to meet Tendou’s once more.

“When are we supposed to leave?” Tendou grins, and places his hand over the one you had resting on top of the pickle jar.

“Three weeks.”

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Fun facts - 

I promise this is an Osamu x reader lmao just give it time

For Tendou’s apprenticeship, I combined two popular Parisian Chocolate companies: Patrick Roger, who’s style just seems so Avant Garde and very Tendou energy, and decided to make him the head of the popular chocolate boutique  La Maison du Chocolat, solely because I thought the name was very ~French~ and ~Fancy~ lol.

I know nothing of Chocolate or France tbh - I got my info from this Vogue Article that you can read here.

A/N: So sorry for the wait with Chapter three!! I was kind of struggling with which route would best keep the plot rolling the way I want it to. I hope you guys don’t mind that this chapter is entirely written, next chapter will def have more social media caps! As always, thank you so much for reading, feel free to shoot me an ask and engage or ask to be added to the Taglist!! 

ps: This wasn’t beta read so pls ignore the bad bits lmaofnjkasndfaksj

Taglist -

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy​

I heard you guys aren’t getting tagged with updates and I’m p sure its because I’m st00pid so if this doesn’t work I’ll reblog and tag again! Sorry if you guys get notified multiple times lmao

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (Prologue)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra... you.  pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 2.3k warnings: bucky and sam being little shits, setting up the backstory 🌹series masterlist // series playlist

If there was one thing to know about Bucky Barnes, it was that he didn’t back down from a challenge; certainly not one from a former fighter pilot with a superiority complex and a loud mouth.  

Bucky stared down the end of the ring, circling with careful, steady steps as he sized up his prey. Sam Wilson rolled his eyes, a slight shake of his head, because he didn’t know quite yet the humiliation he was about to experience.  

It had been a while since Bucky had knocked Sam’s ego down a few notches and it was about time someone did something about his less-than-charming attitude. Sam was starting to talk a big game in front of the rookies and, well, Bucky couldn't have them thinking Sam was some kind of Bureau legend.

“You gonna make a move or what?” Sam jabbed, throwing his arms out to the side dramatically. He let out a groan that echoed through the rafters of the training gym. Always the dramatic one.  

Bucky snickered under his breath, patient, as he continued eyeing up Sam from the distance. 

His left arm was clasped behind his back, wrapped with tape meant to secure his fist in the ring, and he stretched the fingers in his right hand against his hip. A soft cracking released the air between his joints.  

Sam was the one with the brilliant idea to make a bet, in front of a cafeteria full of agents, that Bucky couldn’t get an opponent on the mat one-handed. It was a foolish mistake he was about to regret.  

Bucky charged at Sam, catching him off guard as he let out a grunt from the impact of Bucky’s shoulder diving straight into his stomach. Sam kneed him up into his chest and shoved Bucky off of him, full force of both hands straight to his collarbone, and sent him spiraling to the ground.

“Not so easy, huh?” Sam taunted, winking over at a the young female agent with strawberry blonde hair sweeping down her shoulders as she watched from beyond the ring. Sam didn't seem bothered in the slightest when she rolled her eyes at him and passed a few dollars to the agent on her left, nodding towards Bucky.  

Meanwhile, Bucky was back to his feet, jumping around on his toes, loosening his muscles and got back into position. His only free hand was held in front of him on the offense, his feet positioned slightly more than shoulder width apart, and he bent his knees, giving him the flexibility of movement and agility.  

He didn’t give Sam another chance to provoke him before threw a hit to the side of Sam’s jaw, enough to get him off balance, but not to leave bruising. Bucky knew better than to throw full force with a friendly in the ring, no matter how much of a pain in his ass Sam was, but it would certainly give him the advantage he needed. Maybe leave a red mark for an hour or so. Just enough to make him regret betting against his own teammate.  

Sam stumbled back from the impact of the hit and Bucky made a quick turn for a roundhouse kick where he’d usually use his left hand for additional damage. Sam grunted, knocking away Bucky’s leg before it could land and rushed at him. He got in a good hit on Bucky’s left side, but that was an easy move – some might say, a coward’s move – as he was defenseless on his left.

Though when Sam attempted to get him on that side again, Bucky turned his shoulder, blocking his left side from the attack and grabbing Sam’s wrist midair with his right. Sam looked at him with wide eyes, in shock, before Bucky simply smirked and kicked his right leg to the back of Sam’s knees.  

He let out a yelp as he knees buckles and it sent him tumbling onto the mat with a heavy thud. Bucky quickly took the advantage and threw the full of his bodyweight on Sam’s back. He settled in, purposely digging his tailbone into Sam’s spine and pushing as much as his weight onto him as he could.  

He sat there, whistling to himself as Sam started to scramble under him. The rookies were laughing under their breath as they watched in hoards beyond the edge of the ring. Seemed Sam’s challenge made rounds in the rumor mill and the new recruits wanted a front row seat to the Bureau’s top agents facing off in the ring.  

“You gonna get your fat ass off of me, tough guy?” Sam grumbled, trying to pull himself from under Bucky, but it was no use.  

“I don’t know, man, are you gonna apologize for thinking you had any chance in beating me in the ring, even with one arm tied behind my back?” Bucky taunted, grinning ear to ear as he glanced up to the ranking board hung from the rafters from their year in the academy. Sure, he was listed at number two, but his ego wasn't big enough to believe he’d ever take first when the All-American-Golden-Boy Steve Rogers was in play. At least he wasn’t sitting at fourth place like a certain incapacitated agent he knew.  

“Bite me, Barnes!”

“Maybe I will, don’t temp me.”

“I’m going to kill you. I’m actually going to kill you.”

“What in the hell are you two doing?!”

Bucky looked up to find Steve pushing his way through the hoard of rookies gathered off the side of the ring watching the match with handfuls of cash passing between pockets. Steve shoved his way to the front of the crowd, hands on his hips as he saw the two of them at the center of the ring. He slumped his shoulders, a heavy sigh on the exhale.  

“Do I have to ask?” he rolled his eyes, gesturing to Bucky’s hand tied behind his back and Sam’s constant wiggling around as he tried to escape from under Bucky’s weight. “You realize you’re acting like children, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s not my fault he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I am going to mess you up so bad,” Sam threatened under his breath, but it was loud enough Bucky could hear it, so he leaned further against Sam’s back, adjusting his position as he wacked Sam on the back of the head. It pulled another groan out of him, at least, as he continued to try and crawl his way out. 

“Hey dummies,” another voice called, low and sultry, carrying over the rafters in an echo and sending a hush through the rookies despite the calm nature of the tone.  

Red hair tossed in a bun at the nape of her neck with loose strangles hanging out the sides, Natasha Romanoff eyed Bucky and Sam amusingly before she turned to Steve with raised brows. He shook his head in response.

“What’s up, Nat?” Sam asked nonchalantly as he propped his chin up on his hand, as if he wasn’t currently pinned under one-hundred-and-eighty pounds of muscle.

Nat smirked, lips pushing out as she leaned against the ropes of the ring. “Fury’s looking for us. We’ve got a new job.”

Steve started to break up the crowd as Bucky pulled himself to his feet. Sam, he noticed, was rather dramatic as he used the ropes for support and clutched onto his back as he walked, sending glares in Bucky’s direction.

“You gonna help me get this tape off my arm?” Bucky called after him, rather annoyed at his current predicament, but Sam only scoffed.  

He ended up roping some doe-eyed recruit from the Naval academy to unwrap his wrist and unwind the tape trapping his left arm to his side. The kid’s hand shook nearly the whole time.

***

Fury noticeably wasn’t pleased when he found Bucky and Sam shoving at each other like teenage brothers as they made their way into the conference room. Natasha was already seated at the front of the table, closest to the Director, and Steve was leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he sent them a warning glare.  

Bucky nudged Sam one last time and sent him a short wink before escaping to the chair closest to Steve. Sam slid in beside Natasha and they turned to the Director. He only had one good eye unobstructed by the black patch that sat over veined scars protruding from underneath and even still, Bucky could tell Fury had enough.  

“Now that we’re all settled,” he started calmly, though there was an accusation in his tone. Sam slumped into his seat as Fury slid a series of folders down the table, one for each of them. A projector lit up against the wall, displaying an image of an octopus-like creature with a skull for a head and six curving tentacles emerging from the center.  

“Hydra?” Nat questioned, surprised as she grabbed one of the folders from the middle of the table.  

Fury nodded, hands on his hips. He was proud, it seemed, like he’d been waiting on this one for a while.  

Bucky flipped open the file, a name listed in the top corner that was not his own, unlike the rest of his team sitting around him. Under it, an entire lifetime’s worth of history, of family memories and previous employments, of likes and dislikes. Bucky glanced over it, taking note of the important bullets, like the one that said he had a meeting with the head of Hydra in one week’s time.

It wasn’t the first identity he had taken on and he didn’t suspect it would be the last. Bucky Barnes had spent more of his time since his discharge from the Army and recruitment to the Bureau playing the part of a criminal than as himself.  

He had an exceptional ability to compartmentalize, to lock himself behind the walls he worked tirelessly to build. It was the reason he was able to so easily lose himself to any identity handed to him; read the file, learn the backstory, become someone new. It was refreshing, in a way, to escape from himself and into someone else entirely.

No strings. No commitments. Only the case. Only the end results.

Damn the collateral damage.  

His first cover was in an underground sex trafficking ring a few years back in Atlanta where he operated under the name Brian Victor. He worked his way into the system, posing as a John, walking amongst the likes of vile and heinous men, and dismantled the entire system from the inside, rescuing near sixty-seven young, terrified girls who had been kidnapped and brought across state lines.  

After that, he was employed on a weapons manufacturing plant in Alaska where he took on the role of Alex Smith, a low-level crewman on the shipment yard where mariners were importing illegal bumps and accessories from Russia. That job took him nearly a full year to complete but he didn’t mind that much. He’d liked the locals, poor suckers who found themselves roped up in a scheme far greater than any of them realized. He’d been sure to advocate for their release when they were taken in with the higher-ups.  

Only a week after the final trial, Bucky was given a new identity; one named Chris Roswell, a street seller for an extensive drug trafficking operation in Santa Barbara. Part of his identity was to infiltrate a crew of gang members on the west side that recruited vulnerable kids who shouldn’t have been out on the streets in the first place. He didn’t care for Chris Roswell much and he was happy to be rid of the character once the supplier was taken off the streets.  

In his most recent job, he spent few months as Noah Crestal, a wealthy businessman with an inherited trust fund, who ran with spoiled rich kids and call girls and disassembled an entire underground gambling ring in Baltimore.  

But he was never alone.

While he was on his own in the field, he had a team who kept an eye on him, watched his back, hacked into security systems, and made sense of the evidence he retained.

There was Steve Rogers, the team leader and Bucky’s best friend since childhood. An asthmatic, lanky sort of kid with a startling knack for trouble who grew up to be twice his own size. He finally learned to fit his reckless attitude into a body that could support a few punches and currently held the physical training course record at the Bureau.  

Then, there was Sam Wilson, a grade A pain in Bucky’s ass and a damn good fighter pilot in his air force days. Sam was responsible for making sense of the evidence Bucky brought back from his undercover meetups and monitoring for talk on Bucky’s identity, to ensure his cover was secure. When he wasn’t relentlessly mocking Bucky and flirting with the rookies, he was a decent agent and a better friend. He was a brother in arms and off the field. Fought like one, too.  

The last of the crew was Natasha Romanoff. A woman with more fire power in the tips of her fingernails than most men had in their entire body, Natasha was an ex-KGB agent who defected to the US following a shitshow of trauma and general maltreatment by her home country. She was the primary tech god in the Bureau and spent most of her time these days behind a keyboard. She’d spent enough time in the field and she wasn’t eager for more.  

This team was what allowed Bucky to take on new names, to dive deep undercover into new identities without fear of losing himself completely. There was always a hand stretching out to him to pull his body back to the surface when he needed it. He’d seen a lot in his years in undercover work, been asked to do things to protect his cover he’d never talk about again outside of his debriefings with Fury, and it was easy to forget who exactly Bucky Barnes was under all those lies.

His team kept him in track. It’s what made them so successful, how they were able to go from one city to the next, throw Bucky into a criminal underworld with a new name, and bring massive operations to justice.  

New name. New city. New criminals to take down.

James Karpov was just the next name on the list.

“Rumlow’s down a hitman,” Fury explained, clicking the remote on the slide as a man with dark brown hair and cold, brown eyes appeared on the screen.  

Bucky had seen that face before. He'd heard about the infamous mafia boss Brock Rumlow and his extensive team of lawyers who have been able to get him out of every charge the NYPD has been able to throw in his direction.  

He saw to the distribution of fentanyl laced drugs to the street of New York, the manufacturing of assault weapons, and the ordering of dozens of executions in the last month alone. He was a monster by anyone’s standards and Bucky could already feel the eagerness churn in his stomach. This was a job he was going to enjoy.  

“This is Jack Rollins,” Fury said as an image of a mug shot appeared next to Rumlow’s. “He was Rumlow’s last enforcer before he had the unfortunate luck of actually being arrested for his crimes. Damn field day down at the DA’s office when they finally nailed him.” Fury clicked to the next image as a crime scene photo displaying a very discolored Rollins lying with his eyes open, arm handing off the side of the bed. “He was also conveniently murdered in lock up while awaiting trial just a few days ago.”

“Bummer,” Sam snickered, nudging Natasha’s shoulder and earning a smirk in response. Rollins was behind dozens of murders under his time in Hydra. It was no real loss.

“This is our opportunity to infiltrate Hydra,” Fury continued, ignoring Sam’s remark. He leaned further onto the conference table, black leather of his trench coat swinging at his knees. “Barnes will meet with Rumlow next week to take on the role of the enforcer.”

“So, like a job interview?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.  

Fury shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Bucky thumbed through the file, skimming at the pages of information on Rumlow and his known associates; glancing over decades of monstrous crimes and gruesome crime scene photos. It was all pretty standard, nothing exceptionally out of the ordinary, except for Rumlow’s inflated ego and knack for theatrics. 

The pages were filled with crimes he’d been arrested for, crimes he’d been suspected of, and the all the ones in between. Each with their own summary as to why he was never brought it, why the charges were dropped, or how witnesses suddenly went missing hours before the trial, how evidence disappeared from lock up before it could be submitted to the court. Brock Rumlow was an entitled piece of work, it seemed, though that was no news to Bucky. 

Then, towards the back of the file, Bucky stumbled upon a single page nestled into the binding, one that took him by surprise because the image in the top right corner wasn’t that of a mugshot or one taken from a surveillance camera, it was an employee ID from Columbia.  

A bright, vibrant smile and eyes that lit up on the page, it seemed incredibly out of place amongst Rumlow’s rap sheet. Below the image, accomplishments were listed of various degrees held, charity functions hosted, employment at a prestigious university teaching courses in literary fiction and writing composition. All of which seemed to come to an abrupt halt three years ago.  

Bucky wondered if the page had been put in his file by mistake. That was, until he saw the last name listed in the top right corner.  

Y/n Rumlow. Wife of the head of Hydra.

Fury straightened his back, glancing down at his team as they absorbed themselves in the files, Steve already making notes in the margins as Natasha pulled out her laptop and the small clicks of her keyboard filtered through the concentrated silence. Sam was on his phone, calling up a contact from his former air force days who might have had some knowledge of the Rumlow family, but Bucky... Bucky was still stuck on the last page, the page with the woman who didn’t seem to fit in this world of crime and violence.  

“Get acquainted with your new identity, Barnes,” Fury ordered. “We’re taking down Hydra.”

[soft5ku11]

[drops this and runs]

[seijohsfairy]

𝙿𝙴𝚃𝚄𝙻𝙰𝙽𝚃

he does his very best to give you everything, you know this better than most. so the least you can do is not get jealous. you don’t get jealous… just maybe get a little fussy instead.

.wordc. 4k+ tw (step)daddy, size kink, belly bulge, degradation, hairpulling, spit, jealousy

+

With his teeth in the crook of your neck with his strong arms looped around your -in comparison- tiny body, he pounds his hips up into you until your eyes roll back in your skull. “Needy- fucking- bitch,” the muffled grunts come with each thrust, and all you can do is keep your fingers stuffed into your mouth and holding onto the short hairs at the base of his skull. “Like having a cock too big to stuff your dirty, cockhungry cunt?”

“Yeah, love your— fat cock.” Each wet slap of your pussy being battered by a dick too big for you rings way too loud in the quiet of the otherwise abandoned room, his huge cock going so deep it pushes up against the edge of your poor walls. Your fingers and chin are covered in spit, eyes closed tight and tits bouncing with the motions, unable to even close your legs for a little reprieve. “So deep.”

The bench creaks against the motions. And he rests his forehead onto your shoulder for a moment to hold you down, breathing deeply. “Gonna cum?” His voice so low and gravelly, body radiating heat that leaves you both with sweat rolling down exposed skin. You think you nod in response, but it’s hard to tell when your head’s so cloudy you can’t tell left from right, trying to keep from crying out. “Wanted daddy’s cock so bad you had to beg for it like a whore, so you better.” Then he’s moving again, one hand dropping to your ass to help you along with the ruthless pace he sets in your wet slit.

“C-can’t,” you cry around your fingers when his chest brushes up against your overstimulated nipples, clenching around the heat and dripping all over him. “Wanna -quit, mhm-wan’cum. ‘S too big.” Your thighs strain with the effort to drop yourself at his rhythm, your muscles clenching more each time your clit rubs against the coarse hair around his cock. “So close, daddy!” Your voice, muffled and high pitched, is still no match for the lewd sounds that fill the room and his heavy grunts. You moan at the way his frown digs a little deeper, biting his lip in focus. “Yes, yes, ah-please!” With a few more thrusts, you drop down onto his cock all the way until it pushes against your cervix, and the tight coil in your belly snaps. “Sh- mhm— thankyouthankyou daddy!”

“Fuck,” he hisses, “milk my cock, slut.” Your walls clench around him so hard you see double, pulling your wet fingers out of your mouth to dig them into the hard muscles of his shoulders with a loud string of incoherent begs. And he follows close after, filling your belly with warmth until his thick cum spills out and makes even more of a mess. But he only stops until your body slumps entirely against his chest, so fucked out your toes tingle, and the blood rushing in your head is so loud you can’t hear anything else. He keeps you tight to his hot body, breathing deeply against your sticky skin.

Everything after that moves quicker, sadly. Your head is still pounding a little as he helps you off his lap and onto your feet, wiping your drool off your face and kissing your lips until you manage to lift your arms enough to get your shirt back on. You don’t even know how many minutes pass in silence as he helps you clean up, allowing you the time to come back to earth. “Tired?” he asks, and you nod along, collapsing against his chest with a deep whine.

“I don’t think I want to try walking for at least half an hour.” You stand and watch as he drops his boxers and digs through his bag for his gear, quick to put it all on. Though his grin grows wider the longer you stare at him, you’re not even trying to hide it. Jersey stretching over his wide chest and shoulders, before he tucks himself into fresh boxers and shorts.

“Enjoying yourself?” he chuckles when you bite your lip, nodding cutely. You go to stand onto the bench with a little sigh to motion him over, taking a brief moment to fix his hair as his large hand rests at the small of your back. Pretty hazel eyes watching you with a revering gaze. When you’re done, he clicks his tongue. “Gotta rush out there, pretty thing, I gotta go to warm-ups.” He presses a quick kiss to your pouty lips as he helps your underwear back up your body, but his gaze lingers for a moment too long for you to believe the responsible front he’s putting on. Even if he doesn’t admit it, the way his hands come to paw at your tummy says enough, pushing on it a little until you grab his wrist and squeak.

“Daddy!”

The wet squelch of his cum gushing out of you into the drenched fabric is enough to have heat rising to your face again. “Leaking my cum into those pretty panties?” You fake a frown, but enjoy the way his fingers trail up your body under his shirt. “Hm, that’s too bad.” The little purse of his lips quickly morphs back into a smile when you push his arms away from your body. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he promises, stuffing his bag into the locker. Everyone’s definitely already warming up in the other gym. If anything you’re lucky that they haven’t come around to find their captain yet. “Cheer for me?”

“Of course, daddy,” you say back, eyeing him down a little longer. He really does look too damn unholy in the tight uniform, sending you a last little look that already has your insides warming again.

+

There’s very little that can make you jealous. You’ve won over a lot of obstacles to be with Meian the way you are, and though it’s technically a secret, the gazes his teammates send you when you cheer for your daddy or come around training a bit earlier than you should to watch him are far from unknowing. Of course the large majority of the crowd doesn’t know though, so it’s easy to blend into the cheers of the supporters. In all black and gold, there’s few things you enjoy more than showing off to everyone what you mean to him, jumping and cheering from the stands. You don’t care that they don’t know who you are, or that some of his fans send daggers into your back with their glares.

After all, it’s not for nothing that your skirt shows off the bruises and hickeys on your thighs, his jacket falling way down your body like it could be a dress. The number four on the back also painted on your face as you wave your banner excitedly back and forth. He sends a quick glance back, eyebrows furrowed to look for your face in the mess of people, and grins when he spots you. You wave and smile, letting your heart make a jump when he winks at you, then turning back to the team. This little game between you two is nothing new— hell, most of the players have their own little routines. The first set went by so quickly, and your side of the area is ecstatic, buzzing with excitement.

But as the whistle rings, there’s a distinct murmur right behind you that is harder to ignore by the second. “He winked this way, did you see?” “Who did? Him?” “The Captain, number 4. Meian Shugo.” You really try your best to ignore them, try to watch the game progress below you, but it’s so hard when they seem to be only one of two rows behind you. And loud at that. “At— that girl over there that’s wearing his number, you think? She looks way young.” “I know he got divorced not too long ago, you think that’s his new girl? What a shame.” The longer the conversation continues, the more you have to fight the urge to turn around, tapping your foot on the floor to quell your nerves.

“Ugh, just imagine what a man like that can do,” one of the girls sighs after a while, and even the man to your side turns around to give them a little glare. “What? Are we not allowed to talk?” she hisses, cutting her argument short when the man turns back at the sound of another whistle, the opposing team coming up to serve. They are clearly not here for the enjoyment of the sport, and though you can understand it to a degree, there’s a certain self consciousness that creeps up your spine when they continue, under their breath. “Whatever, even if he has a girlfriend, that doesn’t mean we can’t go say hi after the match. I wanna know what he’s like with a body like that.” “Yeah, same. I’d love to see what’s underneath those shorts. Ride him until he’s out of breath.”

The shrill laugh of the girls is all you can hear through the cheers, clinging a bit harder to the banner in your hands. And it’s so stupid to get jealous, but the way they talk about him hits a part of you that you don’t like giving into. After all, you’re living in the same house as him and currently have his cum soaking into your panties, but no one is allowed to know. And you’re not so sure if that’ll ever change. “If that’s really his girlfriend, I feel bad for him. She looks like she never takes charge in anything, let alone the bedroom.” Her friend snickers. “You’re so right, poor guy.” MSBY suddenly scores a point, knocking you out of your daze when the entire crowd jumps forward in cheers, squishing you to the bannister a little more. And Meian smacks the grey-haired spiker on the back with a smile, before turning back towards the stands to send you another glance.

But the smile you manage to send him is only superficial, fisting your hands into his jersey a bit tighter. The rest of the match continues mostly as normal after, with you ending up waiting patiently outside the changing rooms. And though you know you shouldn’t let it unnerve you, though you know it’s just simple gossip among friends, their words stick to the forefront of your thoughts while he keeps his distance as long as he’s with the team and through the crowd of interviewers until you both get into the car.

You get into the driver as he slumps into the passenger seat, exhausted and ready to get out of the mess of loud people to go home and sleep it off as soon as possible. “Don’t fall asleep yet, daddy, I won’t be able to get you out of the car.” You start the car with a few glances to the side of his face, a tired but contented smile on his lips when you back out of the parking lot and away from the mass of people, an agreeing hum low and calm in between you two for the first time in a few hours. Only then does his large hand find it’s way to your skin again, dropping into your lap to draw soft circles onto the inside of your thigh.

“I missed you, baby.”

“Yeah,” you drop your bottom lip from between your teeth, “missed you too.”

+

When you wake up with a jolt, the first thing you notice is how tight your chest feels. You’re hot all over, slotted against his chest on your side, and judging by how wet you are you’ve been this way for a while. Flushed, and your belly awfully empty. And you’ve learned what happens if you take care of yourself, definitely not in the mood to risk it. So you do the only thing you can do and shift your hips back more, pressing your ass against the bugle in his boxers. No wonder you woke up hot and bothered. “Hmm,” you whine a little when you push back more and rub your covered pussy up and down his center. You can’t help it, you want daddy’s cock more than anything right now.

It doesn’t take long for your motions to shake him awake, definitely when you bring your hand down between your legs to rub up against his half hard cock, grabbing him through the fabric. A deep rumble falls from his chest when you pull the boxers down enough to let his dick out, spitting onto your hand to grab for him. You rub your wet palm over the head of his cock a few times before wrapping your fingers around him— as much as you can at least with the size of it, still rocking your hips back against him and getting more wet by the second. “What d’ya think you’re doin,” he sighs under his breath as he cracks one eye open, grunting at the way you’re rubbing your desperate cunny along the length of him over and over.

“Woke up needing you so bad,” you bring out, just letting your panties get more and more wet the longer you continue. And his cock twitches in between your legs as you work your fingers around, rubbing the precum around all over the pretty head of his cock until he bucks his hips back against you. It presses up against you more the harder you try, tilting your hips to allow him to touch your clit over and over. “Need daddy’s cock inside,” you admit under your breath, shifting away for just a second to rid yourself of the fabric sticking to your pussy. When you’re barely done with that he’s already pulling you back to his body to push his cock between your folds a few times without actually going in. It makes your entire body heated, hairs standing on end and getting more slick by the second. You grab onto his wrist for support in pushing back against him. “Ha-nhg, please-daddy feels so good, so warm.”

You even shift your legs apart best you can to get more friction and access, something that makes him hum. His chest pressed up against your back makes you feel even smaller, packed muscles and strong arms caging you in against him. “You want it so bad, baby?” He shifts onto one elbow behind you to look at your face, how you’re tearing up with the overwhelming heat and need setting your body alight. The hot, leaking head pushes against your hole and pushes in a tiny bit, only to pull back and slap his fat cock against your pussy with a wet ‘pap’ each time. “Wanna have it in here, fill you up, filthy girl?”

“Yes!” you instantly reply, shivering when he uses his free hand to shove your shirt up your body to reveal your tits, rising and falling desperately against the heat. He rubs his thumb over each a few times, then grabbing your tits into his giant hand and squeezing softly. Still teasing the heavy head of his giant cock between your legs while you’re leaving your shiny wetness all over him. Your hips instinctively push back against him when he brings the head back to your hole, trying to lower onto it, only to be stopped by his hand on your hip. You can’t help the whine that comes out at that, still pushing back as much as you can.

“Pleasepleaseplease, daddy!! Ah-ple-hng.” You push his hand back away from your hip and reach between your legs again to push him back up to your dripping pussy again, slowly starting to sink yourself onto him. It never goes easy because he’s just that big, but the stretch of just pushing back on him is enough to have you moaning out, dropping your face into the plush. “Please, want your big -hm- cock. Wanna have daddy ruin me.” He keeps you in place again though, slowly rocking his hips around in circles to stretch you out more, popping back out again and you have to hold the overwhelming urge to kick your feet, instead arching your back and leaning into his hand when he pinches your nipples hard. “J-Fu— Wan’it, wan’it!”

“Oh, the fucking brat knows what she wants?” he mumbles back as he guides himself back between your legs, not holding you down this time. Instead he just grabs onto your thigh as he rolls his hips, your eyes stinging with wetness. “Go ahead then. Got my cocksleeve all needy and worked up and I haven’t even done anything yet.” It’d be easier to ignore his taunting tone if it wasn’t paired with a thrust, shoving another two thick inches into your gushing cunny until you’re crying and shaking on his cock, not sure if you want to get back off or not. The stretch is so painfully good, walls fluttering around the wide intrusion desperately. You roll your hips though, whimpering at the feeling of him spearing you open so wide. It’s not fair. You had him earlier today, but it feels like you’re being stretched for the first time all over again.

“Daddy, please, wanna cream around it, have it break me open please,” you reach back to cling to his forearm, taking a few deep breaths and crying out when it causes his cock to slide even further in. But for as much as you’re struggling, you know that there’s nothing more you want than all of him filling you out. “Need it, ack, d-deep. More, daddy, quickly!” you beg, forcing yourself back and onto him more again, your eyes rolling back in your skull when you arch your back and his cock presses up so good against your gummy, drooling walls. “Please use my holes as you need, ‘s all for you, daddy.” At this point you’re so fed up not being able to take more at once that you pound your little fist onto his thigh a few times and shake your head through your tears, pulling his hand in between your legs. “Put it— mhm-ahh, deeper, please!”

The little request along with the way you roll your hips back on half of his cock like a bitch in heat leaves him stunned, gripping you close by your belly as the hand between your legs rubs messy circles over your clit. “Fuck— What’s got you so fucking desperate?” he hisses when you clench on his cock again, pushing in more at your whimpers. “That feel good?” The way he’s filling you up alone is enough to have your belly tightening like crazy, going crazy at the touches to your puffy nub.

“Yes-hng, yeah, more, moremoremore. Want it all,” you nod, squeezing your own tits and breathing, feeling how he slides in further and further and the messy, quick motions of his two fingers to your clit go even faster. “All of you, ple-ah!” Same time as you try to catch your breath a little, going lightheaded, he bottoms out inside you with a hard thrust, and the coil in your belly pulls so tight you can feel it all the way to your feet. He keeps rubbing, rutting his cock almost in place to stretch you out a little more, but you don’t even get to warn him as your eyes pull closed and your pussy clenches around him like a vice. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck— daddy!” You squirm as your orgasm travels through you, vision spotting black and white and that enormous heat filling your belly.

But you barely take a break to breathe before you’re turning over your shoulder to lean into his collarbones, grabbing onto his shoulder and breathing heavily against his skin. “Daddy’s cock is mine, all mine. Only for me,” you bring out, lifting your leg over his thigh for better access, tears being smushed around your cheeks. He obliges though, pulling out and pushing back inside faster, inside your sensitive cunny with the flushed head of his cock kissing your cervix each time he fills you out.

Your brabbling is barely coherent anymore, sticking so close and rolling your hips as best as you can. “Only belongs inside me. Your pretty cock’s hmh-all mine.” Though you can’t see it though your tears, his lip is pulled between his teeth, pretty eyes focussed on the way your face changes with each thrust, in awe of your words. You’re not normally this mouthy, but the words just keep coming.“‘M gonna take all of your cum like a g-good- girl,” you moan and whine, and he pulls you even closer by your waist to thrust up into you a bit faster. “No one else.”

“Yeah,” he hums, now using his thighs to fuck up into you and to make your tits bounce, the bed banging against the wall with each thrust. He grabs onto your hair to keep your back arched for him and presses a kiss to your wet cheek, moaning. “S’all yours, pretty baby.”

“No one else -ah-can touch your cock or sit on it, okay?” you mumble, mindlessly nodding your head when he grunts your name under his breath, the pace now knocking the air out of your lungs. “Just— your good girl- ah, ah, ah, f-forever! Wanna feel your cock up here until you can’t give any more, daddy!” You manage to bring your hand to your belly to push a little against the bulge that shows each time he bottoms out, balls and hips slapping against you and the wetness of your creamed pussy around his cock filling the room.

“Shit- Look at you being all possessive,” Meian takes a deep breath and brings his hand back between your legs again, cock twitching inside you. Each thrust of his fat cock inside your ruined walls brings you back closer to your high, and the heavy, dirty words he growls when your walls flutter around him. “Little, slutty cunt drooling all over me— fuck, baby, taking me so well. You like feeling daddy’s huge cock filling you up to the brim?”

“Yes, feels so good! So big, hng-good- inside, ah— daddy, daddy!” The heat between your bodies building so hot you can’t think straight. All you know is that you’ve never felt so good, his length driving you open and bulging your belly so perfectly. Your heartbeat is so loud between your ears, neck and back held tight in place and your ass jiggling with his relentless fucking. “Ahng! Ah, ah, ah, always want to cream on your fat cock, no one else gets to. Only me- f-for daddy!” More, tighter, it builds to a peak again like the rhythmic pounding of the headboard into the wall, your cries choked and drool covering your lips, swollen from your consistent biting. “Ah- haaaa, please, wanna cum on your cock again. Gonna—”

“Already?” He brings out a surprised huff, but keeps going and even faster, close as well.

“Mhm! Ah- yes, love your big cock so much, feels -mhm- s’good!” you cry as you’re bounced on his cock all pathetically, squeezing your own tits and nipples for the most amount of stimulation. It’s inevitable when he notices how close you are and rubs your clit even faster again, making your legs shake. “S’g-good, please, wanna c-cum. Don’t stop, don’t stop, wan’ -hmng- d- ah, cumming! Cum—ming-hng -ah, ahng!”

You hit your high even harder than before, vision completely blacking for a few seconds as he helps you through it without hesitating, thrusting your spasming walls open again and again and again. Pushing up against your cervix a few more times with pleasurable pain that leaves your body shaking and pussy creaming around his cock all over again. “Daddy, daddy, daddy!” you mumble out, as he spurts his hot ropes of cum into your pussy, fucking it into you until you’re both twitching from overstimularion.

He lets go of your hair and slumps into you then, keeping you warm in his arms and pulling you close to his sweaty chest. Both of your hearts hammering in different patterns against your rib cages, his cock kept inside you. It’s Meian who catches his breath first, slowly untangling himself from your body to look down at you through narrowed eyes, ever so slowly pulling out of you after all. “Baby,” comes his chastising tone first, and you whine at it, but he’s quick to keep you just as close to press his lips to your jaw. “That was so stupidly hot,” he breathes, “locking around my cock like a fuckin’ vice.” You crack open one eye to watch him inspect you top to bottom, then playing with the edge of the shirt still shoved up above your tits. “What the fuck was that all about?”

But you just give him a lazy grin, and snuggle closer to his chest. “I’ll tell you later, daddy.”

[the-badger-mole]

Traditional Part 4

CW: Contains description of hunting 

The wind shifted after sunrise bringing with it a cold blast in from the arctic ocean. The biting chill made progress slow and arduous. Zuko was able to keep warm enough to function, but he was clearly the most miserable of the four men. Fortunately, the  cold was enough to make conversation a near impossibility, so Zuko only had to endure smug looks from Sokka instead of actual taunting. 

“Not much farther now!” Bato called over the wind. “These tracks are fresher!”  Zuko peered down at the tracks and noted that they did seem deeper and clearer than the tracks they’d seen the day before. He was glad. The sooner they found their prey, the sooner they’d be able to go back to the village. The sooner they’d be back to the relative warmth and shelter of Hakoda’s home. The sooner Zuko and Katara would be able to make their engagement official. The thought of Katara and of a warm bed preceded by a warm meal was more than enough to motivate Zuko to keep moving forward.

“This is it,” Sokka whispered at Zuko. “First one to spot the prey and get first blood wins!” The young Tribesman sounded excited, but Zuko found he couldn’t care less who won their bet. His prize for returning home with a fresh catch would be Katara’s hand, no matter whose spear pierced it first. Still...Zuko thought his new brother could stand a lesson in humility, so he kept his eyes peeled.

By midday, the tracks they had been following were joined by others. The sea moose they were following was likely a lone male looking to mate with some of the females of the nearby pod, Bato explained to Zuko. A few miles later, they heard the guttural barks of the large animals. Sokka shot Zuko a triumphant smirk before he started to charge up the icy hill. 

“Hey!” Zuko protested. He didn’t have time to do much else. Sokka had taken three steps before his foot slipped on a patch of ice, sending him skidding back downhill. Zuko let out a laugh before scrambling to the top of the hill. Hakoda and Bato made their way sedately up the hill behind him ,and Sokka, having righted himself crested last. Below them was an expanse of frozen beach dotted with dozens of sea moose. Zuko had never seen one up close, and the four men were still tens of yards away, but even at that distance, Zuko could see that they were all massive. His eyes fell on what seemed to be a brood of baby sea moose, and he guessed that the smallest among them would have been about the size of a well-fed twelve year old child. 

“Well, the jobs half-done,” Bato said, clapping Zuko and Sokka on their shoulders. “So, which one’s coming home with us?” Zuko and Sokka scanned the beach, and nearly simultaneously pointed out two different sea moose and cried, 

“That one!” 

“Are you kidding?” Sokka laughed. “That one is so small, it’d never feed the whole village! Clearly we have to pick the big one.”

“And how do we get it back?” Zuko demanded. “That thing is almost as big as Appa! And its tusks are as big as we are!”

“Fellas!” Hakoda’s voice boomed out over what was developing into a bickering match. “Neither of those will work. The little is too small to bring home. And that big one is the bull moose, and it’s mating season. We want to leave him alone.”

“Right,” Zuko nodded. “That makes sense. You want to make sure that there will be lots of moose born later.” 

“That and you don’t want to mess with a bull that size in heat,” Sokka snorted. He sighed and held his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Alright. I got a bit ahead of myself with that one.” Zuko huffed and scanned the beach again. He had been enjoying this trip, but he really wanted to go home. His gaze landed on a large sea moose near the edge of the colony. It was lumbering eagerly around the outskirts, nosing at cows randomly, and getting barked and snapped at for it’s troubles. Zuko guessed it was an interloper. It was about half the size of the large bull, but much larger than the moose that Zuko picked first. He raised a gloved hand and pointed it out to the others. 

“How about that one?” he asked. The others looked in the moose’s direction and considered it a moment. They exchanged grins and turned back to Zuko.

“Good choice!” Hakoda complimented him. “He’s trying to take over the harem, so either way, he was probably going to die today. Bulls don’t take too kindly to intruders. 

“I’d have picked him next,” Sokka assured the group. “But since this is for your engagement dinner, I’m glad you spotted him first.” 

“That point goes to Zuko,” Bato announced, grinning at the younger man. “That puts you ahead by two.” 

“That basically means I win, right?” Zuko asked, smirking at Sokka. 

“Hey, I could still win!” he insisted. “I could!” 

“We still have to catch and kill it,” Hakoda reminded them. “Let’s focus.” 

Hunting the sea moose was made easier by the fact that their prey had caught the notice of the giant bull moose. He hauled his bulky frame with surprising agility and speed at the intruder sending the smaller bull fleeing away from the harem and closer to the waiting hunters. 

“We’ll flush him,” Hakoda told Zuko and Sokka. “You two make the kill.” With that, they split into two teams. Hakoda and Bato circled around behind the moose as it pulled itself along the ice and hid among the snow banks. It was heading in the general direction of the sea, but it was taking the long way around the outside of the colony. When it was far enough separated from the rest of the moose, Hakoda and Bato leapt out of hiding, weapons drawn and bellowing warrior cried, and rushed in on the moose. With a startled yelp, the moose scrambled away from the men, falling right into the snare Sokka and Zuko had set. 

It had been caught off guard, but unfortunately, the beast had enough momentum to duck Zuko’s spear. He had just barely missed having his foot impaled on the sea moose’s tusk. The beast reared up to attack again, but Zuko rolled away.

“Keep it busy!” he heard Sokka shout. Zuko huffed in annoyance as he scrambled to his feet. Had he really been demoted to live bait? He reached out to grab his spear, but his hand only grasped an icy mix of snow and gravel. Where had his weapon gone? 

The sea moose let a loud, angry bark, and Zuko spotted his spear. It was on the ground in front of the sea moose, between it’s flippers and guarded by a pair of ivory tusks as long as Zuko’s arms and nearly twice as thick. Perfect.

From far away, Zuko could tell that the sea moose was big. But up close, it was massive! He was easily 15 feet long and bulging fat that concealed, Zuko knew, solid muscle beneath. Zuko was suddenly grateful they hadn’t tried for the head bull of the colony. This one was enough of a challenge. It lowered it’s head menacingly, and Zuko prepared to dive away again.

“You’re doing great buddy!” Sokka shouted. It didn’t distract the sea moose at all. 

“I dropped my spear!” Zuko said. 

“Great!” Sokka crowed. “That means first spear is mine!”  With a grunt Sokka hurled his spear at the sea moose, and for a moment Zuko thought he would miss, but the sea moose lifted it’s head to attack Zuko and spear sunk into it jugular cleanly. Sokka pumped his fist in victory, and then stepped away from the thrashing animal. Hakoda and Bato came in from behind the sea moose and stabbed the sea moose as close to it’s heart and lungs as they could get. 

“Zuko!” Hakoda tossed a cudgel to him, and Zuko managed to catch it with minimal fumbling. “Hit it as hard as you can over the head.” 

Zuko nodded once and turned his attention to the sea moose thrashing on the ground. It’s movements were erratic, but slowing as it bled out. Zuko considered the sea moose’s skull for a moment. It was thick bone, made to withstand fights with other heavy, tusked sea moose, but Zuko aimed carefully, and brought the cudgel down hard on it’s temple. The blow reverberated through Zuko’s shoulder and back painfully, but the bone crumbled under the cudgel and the sea moose went still.

For a moment, it seemed as if the entire world had gone silent, and the only sound to be heard was the heavy breathing of the four men as they stood over their kill. There was a slowly expanding puddle of blood. The still warm liquid steamed in the frigid air, and the coppery, briny smell of it hung over the hunting party. Bato broke the silence first, murmuring a prayer of thanks for a successful hunt. Then, with that ritual complete, the wind stirred again, and the distant barks and grunts of the rest of the sea moose colony brought them back to the present. 

“Alright!” Sokka cheered. “First spear! That’s gotta be worth at least ten points!”

“You get one point for each task,” Bato said. “But it was a close one. The groom to be won, though. Congratulations, Fire Lord Zuko.” Bato reached out and clasped Zuko’s arm with a wide and warm smile. “Welcome to the family.” 

Part 1, Part 2,   Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[beetlejuicesgraveyardrevue]

Cosplay in progress for SuperCon 2017 (on Saturday)! It’s super rushed and last minute and I wish I had more time to take with my sewing. I hate using machines, my hand stitching always looks neater. I’m pretty happy with it so far, though! I’ll make a neater version in the future, maybe for Halloween!

[sliggoons]

A Fluffy, Comforting Guzma x Reader

This is what we all need right now, whether you want to admit it or not.

   The rain was coming down in torrents as you walked down the main street of Po Town. You didn’t bother running, your clothes, hair and entire bag were already soaked through. Your socks squelched inside your shoes with each step you took. This day had just been plain rotten, and the heavy rain was only worsening your mood. Not only had it prohibited you from accomplishing your days worth of activities, but it wasn’t a pleasant rain. Buckets of cold, frigid water pelted into the earth, muddying the paths, and the wind brought goosebumps to your arms.

     Quietly you made your way up to Guzma’s room in the dilapidated mansion. Since you and Guzma had been together, you noticed an increase in his motivation to fix the place up. Slowly but surely the cracks in the walls and ceilings were beginning to be patched, the broken glass swept up and windows replaced.

      A few of the grunts you were closer friends with extended waves or words of greeting, but you ignored them, silently walking up the stairwell. You felt awful doing it, but you knew they’d just ask you what was wrong, and you’d stand there dripping wet, trying to explain and fighting back the lump forming in your throat. So you opted to just continue on, head down.

      Soon you reached the door to Guzma’s room. You hated to bother him, knowing he had some work to do, and he’d been in a grumpy mood. Team Skull had really been struggling with finances recently, and since Guzma was in charge he felt personally responsible for it all. But you were still there, knocking on the door to his room.

      You heard a voice snap from within. “Whaddya want? I’m real busy,” he paused, waiting for a reply as you tried to figure out how to word this. Maybe it’d be better if you just went home, Guzma had been really stressed about all the work he had to do lately. “Oh just come in already, best make it quick though.”

      You opened the door, stepping in, then closing it quietly behind you, all too suddenly self aware of the water soaking into the carpet at your feet. You looked up at him, Guzma, your boyfriend, splayed out on his "throne", his laptop balanced on his knee. You felt at ease, just standing in this room, and the stresses of your day started to unwind, in the form of tears pricking at your eyes.

      Guzma looked up, he blinked once, twice, his eyes wide. “Oh,” he stated, haphazardly throwing his laptop to the side, standing up, his eyes glued to you. “Aye, what happened, baby doll? Is everything alright?”

      Guzma noticed instantly, the difference between the water droplets falling from your soaked hair and rolling down your face, and the tears gathering in your eyes. He saw the way your bottom lip quivered so slightly and the dark circles forming under your eyes. He walked towards you, his arms awkwardly out, his instincts telling him to touch, hug, hold you in his arms. He wasn’t sure though, he learned to be cautious with you, always waiting to make sure he didn’t force you into anything you didn’t want.

      So Guzma waited, close, his big hands resting tentatively on your elbows, rubbing gentle circles into your skin. And that was enough for you, the tears started to overflow and your shoulders started to shake. His arms wrapped around you the instant you reached for him, burying your face in his chest.      One arm around your waist, the other hand cradling the back of your head, Guzma gently stroked your hair as you cried, ridding yourself of all your negative emotions.

      “You can always talk to me yaknow. About anything. I’ll be here to listen, but only if you wanna tell me.” Guzma held you for another minute before pulling away, watching as you wiped the stray tears from your cheeks. “Let’s get you out of those soppin’ clothes, okay?" Guzma suggested, his voice quiet, yet reassuring. He looked around his messy room, broken bottles piling up in the corner, clothes thrown around. Guzma managed to find a clean pair of gym shorts in all the chaos. He glanced around once more and with a sheepish, awkward grin he shrugged off his jacket and extended it in offering.

      As soon as you had changed his hands were back on you, pulling you in for another hug. He set you back at arms length, looking you once over. "You’re really wearing my clothes, huh, looking all cute n shit,” he paused, reveling in the small chuckle that fell from your lips and into the small space created between your head and his chest as you fell back into him. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Guzma asked pressing a heavy kiss to the top of your head, still damp from the storm, but he didn’t seem to mind.

      “No, I’m alright,” you replied, shaking your head and wrapping your arms even tighter around Guzma’s torso. You didn’t understand how he stayed so lean and muscular despite his horrible diet, maybe it was all the training he put himself and his Golisopod through. You weren’t complaining though, you were sure there wasn’t a place on the planet that felt safer than one of his giant, encompassing bear hugs, wrapped up in his strong arms.

      “I’m glad, I’d have to go pulverize some punks if you weren’t, and I don’t really feel like doin’ that right now.” Guzma rested his head on top of yours, gently swaying the two of you back and forth. Guzma really was a playful boyfriend, like right now you knew he wanted something, but he never liked to tell you himself.

      “What do you want to do then?” You asked, trying your best to drag it out of him. You knew he was doing this on purpose, one of his adorable games that was also good for getting your mind off of the negative.

      “Hmm, besides spending time with you, I’m not sure I know,” Guzma loosened his grip on your waist, pulling away to give you his signature smirk.

     “A Pokemon battle?”

      “Nah.”

     “A hot cup of Tapu Cocoa?”

     “Ah, you know I hardly ever pass those up, but not exactly what I had in mind…” Guzma trailed off.

     “I know!” You exclaimed, smiling, “You want to go get in bed and give your girlfriend the best cuddles ever to help cheer her up!”

     Guzma gave you his dopiest grin, “Right on, doll!” He picked you up, almost effortlessly, and carried you over to the bed where he (gently) tossed you onto the pile of pillows and soft blankets. He collapsed into bed next to you, turning on his side to face you and propping his head up with his hand. “Do ya maybe wanna talk about it?” Your boyfriend asked cautiously as you situated yourself in bed, mirroring his position.

      “Maybe later,” You muttered, looking down at the sheets, feeling the tears flooding your eyes again. You had almost stopped crying, but once you started up it was hard to stop. You felt a few fat tears roll down your cheeks before quickly reining your emotions back in. Sometimes it was just nice to cry and get all your pent up emotions out.

      “How come you still manage to look beautiful with tears all over ya face, huh, babe?” Guzma whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face and wipe your tears away with his thumbs. You laughed lightly, a smile forcing its way onto your face along with a burning blush, looking up to meet his eyes and kind smile. At that moment you were really able to see Guzma for who he really was. His eyes were warm, but the heavy, dark circles beneath them were not. Ingrained under his eyes after many cold nights alone, many sleepless and many overslept. Yet after all that, Guzma was gentle, kind, and his stormy grey eyes were calm, at least when they were turned to you. Grey like a solid, steady rock, always there for you to lean and rely on.

     “I, I want you to know. I love you, okay?” His voice was soft, shaky, a manner you had never heard from Guzma before. He paused for a second, then falling back in to his usual tough guy façade, “An I ain’t saying it again, I’m not no sap.”

       Smile bright and hands shaking, you reached up to run your fingers through the back of his undercut, bringing his face closer so you could smash your mouth to his. You conveyed all your love, trust, and appreciation in that kiss, pulling away and holding his cheek in your hand.

     “Maybe I should say that more often then,” Guzma said, winking, a chuckle rolling from deep in his chest. You still caught the delicate blush that had settled in along Guzma’s cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. You made Guzma get up to turn off the light and open the curtains so the room filled with a the gentle, dim grey light that had made its way past the storm clouds. You were too cozy to get up yourself, and Guzma was happy to do so for you. He’d do anything for you, and he hoped one day he could find the courage to tell you that, and much more.

      You smiled and hummed in contentment as he returned to bed and snuggled up close to you. With your head on his chest you could hear his heartbeat steadily thumping, the rain drizzling outside with gentle rolls of thunder, and the occasional whisper from Guzma of his newest crazy idea. Heat radiated off of him and his arm was lazily draped around your side. You knew you definitely made the right decision going into his room, and you hoped you’d never have to leave.